#as promised some pre-marital hand holding! (:

[jaimeslanisters]

the pawn in every lover's game (part seven)

Aemond Targaryen x Lannister!Reader

When you're ten, your father sends you to King's Landing to befriend a princess and woo a prince. A lioness growing up amongst dragons is a dangerous thing indeed.

crossposted on ao3 masterlist word count: 7.1k notes: sorry for the late update!! but this is a big one (: it's time for the tourney folks!

The tourney grounds are alive with the sound of horses braying and people laughing and cheering. Squires run around, carrying swords, shields, and armor as they rush to find their masters somewhere in the crowd. Other members of the royal court mill around, speaking cheerfully to the knights representing their families or eying up the ones that aren’t. It’s loud and joyous, making the Red Keep look more alive than you had ever seen in all the years you had lived there.

It’s headache-inducing.

Your cousins had woken you up far earlier than you were used to in their excitement to get ready and even your grumpy countenance could not quell their anticipation. A part of you had wanted to point out that they had been to tourneys before, fairly recently, as your father had thrown one at Casterly Rock after Loren’s birth to celebrate the arrival of his heir, but, even in your annoyance, you knew that would have been an unfair thing to say.

After all, there’s nothing quite like a royal tourney.

Upon arrival at the tournament grounds, your family had scattered, leaving you with Uncle Tyland and a handful of red cloaks to serve as guards. It was a bit unnerving to have soldiers following your every move - you were so used to walking through the Red Keep completely unencumbered - but you weren’t in the Red Keep. In a clear move to garner support among the smallfolk, Queen Alicent (or Otto Hightower - you weren’t entirely sure of who had had the final say) had opened up the tourney for all of King’s Landing to watch. While there were clear dividers between the nobles and the smallfolk, your father hadn’t had wanted there to even be a hint of foul play and had assigned some of his red cloaks to serve as guards - at least, until you joined up with Helaena in the royal box.

It had been a thoughtful enough gesture but it had made you wonder if there was something in particular that Jason was concerned with. Perhaps you had become complacent in King’s Landing, too used to the relative physical safety of the Red Keep to consider it could ever turn on you. Your years here had been peaceful but Driftmark had proven to you that situations could just as easily turn before you could blink or react. The relative calm of the Red Keep would not hold - you knew this just as surely as you knew that the sun would rise tomorrow. Sooner or later, the shaky peace of House Targaryen would break and erupt into fire and blood and you didn’t want to be caught unaware as you had been as a child. You quietly resolve to push your father to leave you and Tyland some of his soldiers when he returns to Casterly Rock. Even if the gold cloaks and the Kingsguard were sworn to protect the people, it wouldn’t harm to have soldiers sworn to you above all others. You’d rather be overly paranoid now than live to regret it in the future. Your father had just been quicker on the uptake than you.

You shake your head, trying to knock yourself out of your musings. Such dark thoughts had no place on the tourney grounds and you look up to try and start a conversation to distract yourself with your uncle only to see him frowning down at you.

“A gold coin for your thoughts, little one?” Tyland asks, emerald eyes scanning you carefully.

“I’d like to think they’re worth a good bit more than that,” you respond quickly, grinning when he laughs. “It’s nothing, uncle. I’m just thinking about… about the future.”

He hums in response, leading you past rows and rows of tents set up for different knights and other would-be tourney participants.

“Weddings tend to trigger that - though I don’t imagine your thoughts are on whether or not your own wedding celebrations will be as grand as this. Playing a game of cyvasse in your head, little one? Trying to see all the pieces out in front of you and which way they can move?”

“I know the pieces I have available,” you reply. “There are some things I can control easily enough. It’s the pieces that I don’t control that have me lost in thought. There are endless possibilities, endless decisions that other people can make. Right now the game is easy enough, the stakes high but not too dangerously so. I move my piece here or move someone else there and no one tries to check me. No one even knows I’m playing. My concern is wondering when it’ll stop being a game and when someone will just tip the board right over.”

“The game doesn’t cease when that happens,” Tyland says, his voice casual and breezy as if he’s talking about the weather and not your own paranoid fears for the future. “The rules change, the stakes rise, and you’re no longer hidden but the game continues. It never stops. You should have never moved to King’s Landing if you did not wish to play.” Despite his words, his tone is soft, gentle, and when you look up, he’s calmly watching you.

If you told him you were scared of the future, of the consequences of being so entangled with the Targaryens, he would ship you back to Casterly Rock without a second thought, any potential matches be damned.

The thought causes a smile to flicker onto your face. “And leave you alone in a pit of dragons?” You tease. “Banish the thought. We’re at a royal wedding, the likes of which haven’t been seen in decades! Let us focus on getting through that first.”

Tyland gives you a moment, as if giving you one final chance to try to leave court politics behind, but your smile never drops. You couldn’t leave. You wouldn’t leave. As much as the future worries you, leaving Aemond and Helaena behind is such an unthinkable sin that you can’t even fathom doing it.

Eventually, however, your uncle breaks and he starts telling you about the last royal wedding, tactfully ignoring the disaster that was Rhaenyra and Laenor’s. It hasn’t been nearly as grand as this one - the death of Aemma Arryn years prior loomed over the festivities - but it had been a decent enough time if Tyland was to be believed. Of course, he had spent most of the time awkwardly trailing behind Jason and Johanna, then pregnant with Cerelle, but he had still managed to create connections that he would later leverage into being named Master of Ships. All in all, he brags to you, it had been a very successful social event for House Lannister.

You would be expected to accomplish something similar but, in lieu of a position of repute, you would have to claim a powerful husband.

You think of Helaena’s teasing words from the opening feast - Lions will ride dragons someday - and as much as they bring an embarrassing flush to your cheeks, you knew better than to place any heavy weight on them. Helaena’s prophecies, if they could be called that, were nearly nonsensical, more poem than any true look into the future. For all you knew, her words were simply saying that eventually, somewhere in the future, a Lannister would bed a Targaryen with no guarantee of a marriage. You could be a Lannister who beds but does not wed a Targaryen.

It would be foolish to place everything you had into the hope that Helaena was right about you and Aemond. You had to make it happen and one way to do that was to ensure that Victor Florent did not place you into a socially precarious situation by asking you for your favor.

That was where Tygett Lannister would have to assist you.

You hear his laugh before you ever see him though, to be sure, your cousin is difficult to miss. Even among other House Lannister members, most of them more visibly Lannister than you, he stands out. Long before he had reached his age of majority, Tygett had grown to be taller than most adult men, towering over his own father. While he wasn’t as broad in the shoulder as Lord Jason and Tyland, he certainly did not lack in muscle and cut an imposing figure even if you knew that he was not as nearly an intimidating warrior as he looked. He was handsome, as all Lannisters tend to be, and, as you approach his tent with your uncle at your side, you can see he’s gathered a small crowd of admirers around him as he tells jokes and charms them all.

He’s a Lannister, through and through, and when you were a child, you had resented him for that reason precisely. Prior to Loren, Tygett had been the preferred potential husband for Cerelle if no male babe had been born to your parents. Of course, that would only be if your father could wrangle his bannerman into obeying him without needing to make concessions such as a marriage to his female heir, something that was far from being a guarantee. Adulthood had taught you your family would have been right in believing that that would have been the easiest, cleanest solution. Despite not being from Casterly Rock or the main line, a Lannister was a Lannister and Tygett would have been preferable compared to a son of an upstart lord with dreams of supplanting the lions of the Rock. Child you had not seen it like that, however. All you had seen through your immature eyes had been your father’s dream - a son of House Lannister, tall and handsome and strong - just out of his reach and you had hated Tygett for representing the one thing you and your sisters could never be for Jason, no matter how hard you could try: a son.

Time and distance had worn down your ire and now, when Tygett spots you and grins widely at you, you easily smile back.

“Cousin!” He greets you exuberantly, reaching you in a few steps and wrapping a warm arm around you in a quick, affectionate hug. He turns to Tyland and gives a quick bow, never losing his cheerful expression. “Lord Tyland. I thank you for coming to see me before the event begins1”

“I see you already have fans,” Tyland responds, a smile working its way onto his face.

Tygett shakes his head, bashful. “Just friends. They’ve all visited once or twice in Lannisport and wanted to wish me luck before the joust.”

“Speaking of which,” you cut in, clearing your throat. “Have you heard which listing you’re in?” You try to sound calm as if his answer wouldn’t dictate your mood for the rest of the day, but judging from your uncle’s suppressed snort, you’ve failed at that.

Your cousin grins, not minding how you leap into business first. “First. I’ll be facing a Stokeworth household knight. I’ll be counting on your favor to tip the odds for me.”

You sigh in relief, readily nodding your assent at Tygett. As an unmarried man with no acceptable noblewoman to charm, tradition dictated that he ask you, the highest-ranking lady of his house at the event, to gift him your favor. If he asked any other lady from any other house, it would be a loud and clear message to the court that he was interested in courting her, and a betrothal meeting would be sure to follow afterward, if only because it was simply what was done. By asking you, however, he could hold off the marriage discussions and declare himself as an uninterested party even if you technically were an available choice to him.

It solved both of your problems neatly enough and it prevented you from having to awkwardly hand your favor to a man who would mean all the implications it would bring.

“Are you feeling confident?” You ask him and your cousin laughs, loud and booming.

“I’ll make it a few rounds,” he says without a hint of embarrassment or disappointment. It doesn’t bother him at all to admit his fault. If not for Loren, he would have been loved as Lord Lannister. “I won’t shame you, cousin, though I’m afraid that I won’t be able to crown you Queen of Love and Beauty unless several notable knights happen to trip getting on their horse.”

You smile wryly. “You’re terribly lucky. Perhaps they will.”

“I’ll put money on you regardless,” Tyland says as he claps Tygett on the shoulder, giving his nephew a firm shake.

Your cousin immediately shakes his head. “I thank you for that vote of confidence but save your coin for the archery event. I’ll win a prize for myself there and, hopefully, bring you a greater return.”

Your uncle smirks. “We’re Lannisters, Tygett. I can afford to lose some coin on you. But if you insist, any tips on who is best to bet on during the joust then?”

“Lord Tarly’s brother is a surefire bet. Same with Ser Edwyn Sand from House Dayne in Dorne. I heard he’s been promising in past tourneys.”

You blink at that. “Dorne sent knights? Has the Lord Hand made progress toward negotiating unification?”

Tyland laughs out loud. “Unlikely. House Dayne has always been closer to Westeros than the rest of the region, however. They trade often with Oldtown and Lannisport even if they refuse to break away from the Martells to formally join with the Iron Throne.”

You hum in response, mind whirring even as Tygett begins to list off other potential champions (alarmingly, Victor’s name comes up and you manage not to react). Ever since Dorne had managed to shoot Queen Rhaenys out of the sky and survive the rage that Aegon and Visenya had rained upon them after, relations with the region had been tense, to say the least. House Targaryen’s official stance was that the dragons had conquered the desert lands to the South and that Dorne was one of the Seven Kingdoms, a position that Dorne firmly rebuked.

Years before you were born, there had been a chance to unify the continent finally. Just before his dismissal in favor of Lyonel Strong, Otto Hightower had very nearly brokered a betrothal pact between Rhaenyra and the Prince of Dorne but dreams of that had been squashed when Rhaenyra had been ushered into a marriage with Laenor Velaryon to soothe Lord Corlys’ wounded ego and quiet the rumors surrounding her maidenhead. It had been enough of a scandal that you can remember hearing whispers about it even as a child; about how Rhaenyra had rebuked several suitors - including Tyland - and how it had seemed that she had planned to go unwed until her father and House Velaryon had forced her hand. House Lannister had been soothed by Tyland gaining the position of Master of Ships but there had been no consolation prize for Dorne. The kingdom had not taken the insult well and negotiations had reverted back to their icy standoff, slightly worse off than it had been before.

House Dayne sending a knight, even if he was a bastard, was promising, however. It opened doors where there otherwise would be none and you silently note to yourself to try and speak to Ser Edwyn and his retinue when you had the chance or encourage Tyland or Tygett to do so in your place.

A herald shouts that the opening presentation is due to commence shortly and you reach out to grasp Tygett’s arm.

“May the Warrior grant you strength, cousin,” you solemnly tell him, your lips quirking up in a smile when he bows deeply in response.

“And may the Maid grant you luck,” he replies, bright eyes knowing, and your smile grows.

——————————–

The actual tourney grounds are a marvel and you feel like the childish little girl you once were as you climb the steps to reach the royal box, high above the rest of the stands. At Alicent’s direction, the grounds are decorated with black and red Targaryen banners, the blazing green beacon of Hightower cutting into the otherwise dark color scheme. Most of the nobles are already sitting and in the distance, you can see a massive crowd of smallfolk, gathering where they can so they can catch a glimpse of the heraldry.

The royal box itself is already buzzing with activity, House Velaryon and House Hightower making up the bulk of the occupants. Your uncle leaves your side to join up with the other members of the small council and, after a moment, you step forward, moving towards the seats Helaena had told you yesterday were to be yours and hers. In the very front of the box, in front of the Lord Hand and Queen Alicent, there’s a row of empty seats, solely occupied by Aemond.

Even without seeing his face, you can already imagine his bored expression and when you drop into the seat next to him and he turns to face you, you exaggerate a scowl. “Is the tourney not to your liking, my prince? I can force everyone to do something more worthwhile such as reading philosophy if it pleases you.”

He rolls his eyes and your expression quickly clears into a grin. “I can’t imagine even you being able to pull that off but it would, in fact, please me greatly if you’d somehow work out a way for me to leave this complete farce. There’s a pile of proposals for the city’s budget that I need to summarize before the week’s up that I need to get to.”

“Lord Otto will understand if you’re a tad behind,” you say, jerking your head in his grandfather’s general direction. “Besides, it’s important that the smallfolk see you and the rest of your siblings here. They’d like to think that they know their royals and, by being here, you show that you care about them.”

Aemond shoots you a disgruntled look without any heat behind it. “The proposals are for their benefit. They include building more orphanages and bettering the sewage system.”

You smile. “That’s all well and helpful but, just as important as that, is public appearance. There’s a reason the smallfolk sing songs about Good Queen Alysanne’s women’s courts and not about King Jaehaerys constructing the Kingsroad.”

He hums in acknowledgment and you know he understands you even if he’s unlikely to admit it. He’s never liked tourneys and it’ll be even more years yet before I get him to admit they can be useful.

“Will Helaena and Prince Aegon be joining soon?” You ask after you give the box a quick scan to make sure they’re not hiding amongst their family. You even give the Velaryons a cursory glance to be certain but, aside from Princess Rhaenys and Baela, you don’t recognize any of them.

Aemond smirks. “You’ll know when they arrive. You’re not the only one who is preaching the importance of appearances.”

You open your mouth, ready to ask him what he meant, when the roar of a dragon cuts you off and you jump in your seat, hand flying out to grip Aemond’s arm in shock. A hush falls over the tourney and there’s another earth-shaking roar that rattles you down to your bones. Your grip tightens on Aemond and, after a beat, you feel one of his hands come up to grip your own, pulling it off of his arm and instead holding it tightly, intertwining his fingers with your own.

You don’t even turn to look at him, however, too stunned by the sight of two dragons descending onto the tourney grounds, covering the stands in shadow even as the creatures themselves glimmer in the sun. Dreamfyre’s blue scales shine brightly, glittering like the Sunset Sea, but it’s Sunfyre who you can’t drag your eyes away from. You’ve seen Aegon’s dragon before, off in the distance, but this alarmingly close, you suddenly realize why Aegon was so prone to bragging about the beauty of his mount.

Sunfyre glitters like gold, almost blinding in the light, and, from the gasps and exclamations coming from the crowd, you know you’re not the only one who’s noticed. From the curve of his neck to the pink membrane beneath his wings, Aegon’s dragon is more a work of art than a creature that could easily burn entire cities to the ground.

The two massive beasts land, somehow neatly avoiding crushing the fences set up for the jousting, their wings flapping to steady themselves while sending out a massive gust of wind to the rest of the onlookers.

As you stare, marveling, you’re suddenly struck with the memory of seeing Aemond fly with his siblings, of Vhagar dwarfing Sunfyre and Dreamfyre, and your mouth drops as you imagine his dragon being the one to have to land on the tourney.

She’d crush us all under her size you realize with wonder and you finally rip your eyes away from the sight in front of you to tell Aemond that exact thought when you meet his eye already watching you.

His gaze is fond, warm even, and it softens his face in a way you haven’t seen in years, so markedly different from the careful mask he wore around the court. His mouth is curved up in a tiny smile and you’re suddenly hyper-aware of his hand holding yours. The palm of his hand is rough, worn down by calluses formed from years of swordplay, but it’s warm around your own soft skin.

Your mouth dry all of a sudden, you lick your lips and his gaze drops and something in you clenches at the sight of him staring at your mouth so unabashedly.

For a moment, you’re not sitting in the royal box at a tourney, visible to hundreds if not thousands, the most important members of the court all sitting behind your back. You’re sitting in the library and it’s just you and Aemond - the way it has been meant to be.

His eye finally flits back up to meet your’s and the look in his eye makes your breath hitch.

More than an alliance, more than what it will bring to your family, you want him. You’ve always wanted him just for him.

The mad desire to tell him just that almost takes over but before you can do something as foolish as professing your love in front of the royal court, the crowd roars in approval and you’re knocked out of your revelry, looking over in time to see Sunfyre and Dreamfyre take to the skies again, leaving Aegon and Helaena standing hand in hand in the middle of the jousting field.

From this distance, you can’t see the fear in them, the desire to pull away from each and run to the hills, far far away from this marriage that could choke the two of them to death. Instead, you can only see two beautiful Targaryens, dressed in finery that absolutely gleams in the sunlight, tied together by blood, power, and soon-to-be by marriage.

“They’ll write songs about them,” you realize with a murmur and Aemond squeezes your hand, in acknowledgment and in comfort.

“Songs will help,” he gently reminds you and you jerkily nod, looking back at him as Aegon and Helaena approach the royal box to finally be seated.

After a moment, you find your voice. “I hope the singers will write beautiful ones. Helaena deserves that nicety.”

“And Aegon does not?” Aemond asks, his tone low and teasing, and you laugh.

“I think the songs he wants about himself are rather bawdier in nature,” you reply, cheeks warming when he shoots you a look in response.

After a few more minutes, Aegon and Helaena finally reach the seating area and, as Helaena bolts ahead while Aegon flags down a servant carrying a flagon of wine, you turn to face the chair that the princess will occupy, your hand slipping out of Aemond’s as you do so, his fingertips brushing yours.

You find you miss the warmth, even as Helaena snatches up your other hand immediately, squeezing it tightly as if it was the little bug toy Aegon had gifted her that she carried around in her pockets to fidget with.

“Careful, princess,” you playfully scold, voice low and quiet as Otto Hightower stands to officially announce the beginning of the jousting event. “I’m afraid I plan to still have some use for my hand in the future.”

“Sorry,” Helaena says quickly in response, her tight grip loosening only a fraction. “I was nervous and scared of making a mistake.”

You smile encouragingly. “You did marvelous, Helaena. No mistakes.”

Her eyes dull. “No choice. There will be no choice.”

Your heart seizes in your chest and you curl your hand around her’s protectively.

No choice. No choice.

Her most repeated phrase haunts and mocks you, filling your brain with endless doubts and worries. Biting back the pleads that you know will never bring you answers, you nod your head, turning your attention back to the jousting field. The various knights that will be participating in today’s lists ride in front of the box and you can easily pick out Tygett in front of the procession, a golden lion roaring on his impossibly shiny armor.

“I wonder how long my cousin’s squire slaved away polishing to achieve that gleam,” you wonder out loud.

Helaena giggles nervously. “If he’s anything like Daeron, I doubt he got any sleep. I’m sure even now, Daeron is fretting over some aspect of Lord Ormund’s armor that he thinks he didn’t get to prepare to his highest standard.”

You laugh at that. “I’m sure Prince Daeron is out there pacing a hole in the field from his nerves.”

“Lord Ormund is probably calmer than him right now,” Aemond joins in on your gentle ribbing, nodding at the calm Lord of Hightower as he rides past the royal box to the cheers of his family.

Aegon, having gotten his drink, drops heavily into the seat next to Helaena, somehow avoiding splashing Arbor gold all over him and his sister. “Little prick hardly let anyone in the apartments sleep with the way he was worrying all night as if he’s going to do something more taxing than handing our cousin his lance or fetching him some water.”

Aemond rolls his eyes. “And you were beside yourself at the idea of having to open the tourney with Sunfyre as if you haven’t flown countless times in the past.”

Aegon doesn’t seem at all annoyed with his brother’s barb, instead smiling wide. “Careful, brother,” he nearly sings as he takes a sip from his chalice. “Little Daeron and I weren’t the only ones getting worked up about the joust.”

Helaena shakes her head, shooting her future husband a look. “We were all nervous,” she scolds without any bite.

Her older brother merely shrugs, still looking impossibly pleased. “The worst part of it is over for us. Can’t say the same for everyone else.”

You watch the siblings squabble with interest, always intrigued when the Targaryen children duke it out amongst themselves as if they were normal siblings rather than royal children in line for the throne. Your attention, however, is taken away when the first listing is announced and you sit up straight in your seat at attention.

On the field, Tygett steers his horse, a massive white stallion, to stand in front of the royal box. “Lady Lannister,” your cousin calls, his voice booming even over the roar of the crowd. “I humbly ask for your favor in order to bring our house pride.”

“Is it because of the whole lions bit?” You hear Aegon ask sardonically even as you rise to your feet. You hear Aemond let out a warning hiss and you bite back a grin as you stop by the table that held piles of rings of flowers, easily picking out the one you had half-heartedly made on your journey back to King’s Landing, before heading to the railing.

“May the warrior grant you strength,” you call down to your cousin, echoing your earlier words to him. As a child, you had often imagined this moment: tossing a handsome knight your favor as the court watched, letting them all know that your love was real and true like in the songs. You had thought the first time you got to do it that it would be a romantic moment, one that you would remember for years and years into the future, a beautiful story to tell your grandchildren one day.

You feel nothing as you toss the ring of flowers down to Tygett, only a vague sense of pride when you manage to get looped onto his lance. Your cousin bows his head solemnly before galloping off to get ready for the joust and you turn back to your seat, none the worse for wear.

“Thank the Gods that’s out of the way,” you grumble as you sit down, keeping a careful eye on Tygett’s preparations even though you know he’ll easily unseat the household knight the Stokeworths have sent.

“What?” Aemond asks, similarly watching Tygett with keen eyes. “Does your cousin not set your heart aflame? Make you sing beautiful songs of courtly love?”

You roll your eyes. “If he did, I would have spent more than five minutes on the flower ring. As it were, I tried to offload it on one of my other cousins but everyone was too caught up in making and perfecting their own to make mine as well.”

“Shame poor Ser Victor won’t get to ask,” Aegon calls over to you, grinning as you shoot him a glare. “How will the poor man’s heart ever recover?”

“Hopefully it won’t,” you shoot back. “And I’ll get to enjoy the rest of this week in peace.”

Aegon snickers. “I doubt it. Victor Florent will pledge his undying love to you and then promptly meet a terribly tragic end that the court gossips about for a maximum of two weeks before moving on to the next scandal.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” you say even as you clap for Tygett as he easily unseats the poor Stokeworth knight. “That’d distract from the wedding and I’d never do that to Helaena.”

“I never said you would,” Aegon says, snapping his fingers for a refill, and Helaena coughs into her hand in order to poorly disguise a laugh.

“Enough of that,” Aemond cuts in, voice cold. “Ser Tygett Lannister has already claimed her favor. She doesn’t have another to give.”

His brother laughs gleefully. “But he might win a crown to bestow. Love has a way of making men stronger than they normally are.”

“He is not in love with me, my prince,” you say, keeping your eyes on the field so you don’t turn to snap at Aegon.

“Of course, of course,” the prince responds, his voice light and laughing, and you fight the urge to snatch his wine away.

“At least he’s enjoying himself,” you grumble under your breath to Aemond and he lets out a huff of air.

“He’ll always find his amusements,” he replies, his voice tight and annoyed.

You look over at him so he can see the exasperation clear on your face. “I suppose I should be glad it’s at my expense rather than something unbecoming.”

“Victor Florent’s behavior is unbecoming,” Aemond says in a steely tone. “You’ve expressed your disinterest and yet he continues unperturbed.”

“Some songs would say that’s romantic,” you point out. “I can name you at least five right off the top of my head right now.”

“Life isn’t a song,” he shoots back, ignoring how the crowd cheers as another knight is unhorsed. “Ladies deserve a choice in their husbands. You deserve a choice and you clearly haven’t chosen him.”

You watch as his jaw clenches in anger and, slowly, your hand reaches out to brush the top of his hands, him having curled them into fists on his lap. His hand immediately relaxes and he tilts his head down to look at you, his platinum hair falling over his shoulder in cascades.

“I don’t choose him,” you say, voice low. “And I wouldn’t choose him. I’m polite because he’s popular in the court and if I dismiss him out of hand without another prospect, people will wonder why .”

I keep him around to rile you into doing something you silently add in your head, pleased as his body loosens and his hand turns to capture yours yet again.

You think you could hold his hand forever if you could get away with it.

“And if there is another prospect?” Aemond asks, his voice heavy with intention, and you stare at him, heart pounding in your chest. His thumb slowly rubs the back of your hand. “Will you reject him then?”

You nod, swallowing thickly. “I would. He’s the last man whom I could ever be prevailed upon to marry.”

“And who is the first?”

You already know the answer.

“My shining lady of Lannister!” Aegon sings and Aemond’s face grows so cold so fast you actually marvel at the speed. “Your knight of the Brightwater rides!”

Reluctantly, you tear your gaze away from Aemond to scowl fiercely at Aegon, uncaring that he outranks you by far as a royal prince and the most probable inheritor of the Iron Throne. You idly wonder if you could get away with smacking him - anyone who has ever met him would probably agree that you had the right of it.

“Does he…” Helaena trails off and you glance at her stunned expression before glancing at the field and your blood runs cold.

Victor Florent is sitting proud as his squire runs around him doing last-minute preparation. His eyes are glued to you and, the moment he realizes your eyes are on him, his face lights up and he raises his arm in greeting and that’s when you spot it.

Tied carefully around his bicep, there is a red and gold handkerchief, the colors the exact same as the dress you are wearing. You, and the rest of the court, can tell without seeing that there is a golden lion stitched onto it.

A favor.

A favor you didn’t give but was made to seem as if you did.

Already, you can feel curious eyes on your back, can hear the gossipy whispers, and you suddenly wish you were actually the lioness that your mother liked to call you. If you were, you could leap from the royal box onto the ground and tear out Victor Florent’s throat if only to watch him realize that you weren’t the demure lady of his dreams.

“He has bravery,” Helaena whispers. “And that is all he will have.”

You’re too livid to register her tone, too furious to say anything other than an incoherent hiss of anger. You can only grip Aemond’s hand tighter and pray that the Tyrell knight he is facing will unseat him.

Except the knight doesn’t. None of the knights do and you watch with mounting fear as Victor rises in the ranks, unseating knight after knight until only three stand between him and the crown.

You want to be sick.

“He knew I would never give him my favor,” you finally say after your cousin is unseated to Lord Roland Tarly, the brother of the lord so desperately in love with your sister Tyshara. “So he fakes a personal favor from me so the court will whisper about a courting that doesn’t exist. He wishes to force my father’s hand.”

“He doesn’t have respect,” Aemond’s voice is dangerously still and you tear your eyes away from the next competitors’ preparation to look at him. His face is a mask, a far cry from the gentleness he had shown earlier, and wiped completely clear of any emotion. “He’s a fool.”

You don’t bother to watch the joust anymore, keeping your gaze on him. “He’s a bold fool,” you finally reply. “That’s more dangerous than a fool.”

“He’s a fool nonetheless,” his eye gleams and you don’t have anything to say in response, only squeezing his hand.

Since Victor Florent had ridden out onto the field, Aemond has not let go of your hand and you wonder if anyone has noticed. Your seats are close enough that it’s not automatically visible that your hands are intertwined, that he refuses to let go and you refuse to do the same. You wonder what the court will think.

You glance over your shoulder, to see if anyone is watching, and meet Queen Alicent’s eyes.

She at least sees.

You only meet her gaze for a few scant seconds before she looks back at the field but you had recognized the look in her eyes.

Fear.

But of what?

Ser Edwyn Sand unseats Lord Ormund Hightower and you don’t even have it in you to feel pity for poor Daeron because your heart immediately begins to pound loudly in your chest.

The next match is the final.

Ser Edwyn Sand vs Ser Victor Florent.

“If he wins,” you murmur under your breath. “I’m petitioning the crown to allow Dorne to live undisturbed in perpetuity.”

“If he wins,” Aegon calls over, his tone oddly contrite for once. “I’ll let you.”

With bated breath, you watch as the two knights ready themselves. Victor’s face is solemn but, just before he puts on his helmet, he shoots a glance at the royal box, staring for just a moment.

Before he raises his arm and kisses the handkerchief, grinning all the while.

Your blood boils and Aemond’s grip on your hand grows tighter.

For a moment, all stands still as Edwyn and Victor stare each other down.

Then the horn blows and they shoot off toward each other, their horses almost impossibly fast. The crowd screams in excitement.

The first pass is a miss and, as they turn quickly to face the other, you pray to the Seven that Victor’s horse will crumble beneath him, that his lance will shoot off to the side while Edwyn’s will strike true.

But the second pass is a miss too.

The crowd jeers and begs for a hit while you pray for a draw at the bare minimum.

Do not give Victor Florent that crown. Please. Please. Please.

This was the piece you couldn’t control. The move you couldn’t predict.

The horn blows once more and the two knights race towards each other again and, for a moment, you think Edwyn has done it.

But then there’s a loud crack! and Edwyn falls to the ground, showered by the wooden splinters of Victor’s lance as it shatters against his armor, knocking him down.

The crowd explodes into incomprehensible screams, so loud that you can feel your ears pop, while the royal box cheers, but you, and the rest of the front row, sit in stunned silence.

Aemond’s grip on your hand has grown so tight that it hurts but you can’t find it in you to shake him off, to tell him to let go, not when you want to keep yourself tethered to him.

You can’t reject the crown. You can’t.

In centuries of tradition, the Queen of Love and Beauty has never been able to reject the title. Even when the Queen in question is married to another, she has always been made to accept it and weather the storm that follows.

There is no choice. None you can make.

Victor Florent has laid out the perfect trap and you will be forced to step right into it.

You watch, your blood pumping in your ears, as Otto Hightower rises to his feet. On the tourney grounds, a squire runs out to Victor, carrying a pillow with a crown of blood-red roses placed on it.

You don’t even have it in you to laugh at the irony.

“Congratulations to Ser Victor Florent for unhorsing all of his opponents and winning the tourney,” Otto pauses to allow the crowd to roar their approval. “Alongside the pot of gold, you have won the crown for the jousting event. Who shall you crown your Queen of Love and Beauty?”

The crowd screams and screams and Victor beams happily up at the royal box.

For a moment, you manage to delude yourself that he’ll call his good-sister’s name or even Helaena’s. It’s her wedding. It’s only right to honor her like this.

It won’t be you. It won’t be you.

“I humbly ask my lady love, the beautiful Lady of Lannister, to accept my crown,” he declares, voice loud and firm, and you want to snarl at him, you want to rage, you want to scream.

I’m not yours. I’m not yours. I’m not yours.

But you can’t do any of that.

You can only rise in muted anger, the rest of the court rising with you so they can get a better look at your crowning. Aemond holds your hand, firm and unyielding, and he only lets go at the very last moment, arm outstretched to do so.

You know the court saw that but you can’t even find it within you to care about the gossip and the scandal that will follow.

All you can think is that you want to cave in Victor’s chest for putting you into this position, maneuvering his way into appearing to all the world as your only choice in marriage.

Just like the songs, you walk down the steps of the royal box and out to the field where Victor is waiting, the crowd screaming all around you. Just like the songs, you bow your head as Victor places the crown of roses on your head and allow him to grab your hand to press a sweaty kiss on the back of it.

Your hand still in his, you turn to face the royal box, keeping your face perfectly still as you look up at them, not smiling or blushing like you know they expect you to.

You look up and you see Aemond.

He’s not watching you. His eye is on Victor. While the court claps and cheers around him, he stands stock still. Even from here, you can see the hungry and vicious gleam in his eye as he stares down at Victor.

You’ve only ever seen it once before; when King Viserys had thrown him away on Driftmark, when Aemond had been aching for blood and retribution.

In this moment, you realize that he is all the worst things people say about him. He’s cruel and he’s vicious and he will tear out Victor’s throat for this. The look on his face is cold and frightening and next to you, you can feel the exact moment Victor notices, when his overeager waving slows as he realizes that he’s drawn the ire of a dragon.

In the distance, you hear Vhagar roar, loud and distinctive even over the crowd’s cheers, and finally, you allow yourself to smile, a thrill running down your spine.

[it-happened-one-fic]

It's Nice - Floyd

Author Notes: So. Just like with all Floyd fics this one has featured copious editing and has been trapped within my Google docs for quite some time as it underwent that lengthy process. But here it is. A premarital hand holding fic for Floyd. This fic was edited while I was listening to "They Don't Know" by Tracey Ullman which I can almost promise you influenced how this fic turned out. As per usual, Reader is gender-neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Type: Gender-neutral reader/ fluff/ pre-marital hand holding/ romance implied/ sfw

Word count: 1365

I sat silently next to Floyd, watching as the unpredictable young man toyed with my hand and fingers. 

Simply put, it was an odd way to pass time, but, according to Floyd, my hands were interesting.

And evidently enough, he did find them interesting. After all, the infamously mercurial merman was just sitting next to me, leaned over so that he was largely lying on the table in front of us as he reached over and toyed with my fingers. Apparently perfectly satisfied as he fiddled with them while simultaneously being beyond careful with them. Almost like he thought they were fragile or something.

It was almost enough to make me forget exactly why all of my classmates found Floyd to be a fearful entity.

My gaze slowly shifted to our hands as I pondered what exactly made my hands so uniquely interesting to him, and then the young man in question let out a giggle. 

I frowned slightly, glancing his way questioningly as he sat up with a smile on his face as his eyes stayed on our hands.

 I didn’t get to actually ask him anything though, since he opted to explain without any prompting, “Your hands are so teeny~ How do you get anything done?”

His two-toned gaze found mine as he teasingly questioned me, and I frowned at his words. Slipping one hand out of his grasp, I held it up to better inspect it for myself.

Sunlight streamed through my spread fingers, but, for all my careful looking, I could not find anything unique, interesting, or particularly small about my hands.

In fact, it just looked like a hand. Plain and simple. Nothing special or unique about it at all.

“Are they really that small?” My response came out as more of a murmur than anything, but Floyd still managed to hear it.

“Sure they are! Look,” As he spoke, one of his own hands wrapped around my wrist as he pulled my arm, and me with it, over so that he could flatten his left hand against my right one.

He leaned around our hands, which were now pressed palm-to palm, to look at me with a wide grin, “See?”

His eyes were glimmering at me as I focused on our hands and found that, sure enough, his hand was far larger than mine, with the tips of his long fingers clearly visible over the top of mine.

“Well, I guess in comparison…” I trailed off as I noticed Floyd’s expression shifting from playful to curious as he looked down at our hands and sat back so that he was now sitting directly in front of me.

Slowly, and almost carefully, his hand shifted until his fingers slipped in between mine and folded down over my hand.

He looked utterly fascinated as he carefully held my hand in his with his fingers slipped through the gaps between mine.

And, largely by instinct, I mirrored his motions. But instead of staring out our mismatched hands, I was watching him as I interlocked our hands and caused his eyes to go wide.

It was one of those moments where Floyd looked anything but scary. In fact, he stared at our interlaced fingers with an almost childlike innocence that confused me.

What was so special about holding hands?

He’d tugged me along after him, all but squeezing the life out of my hand along the way, so why…?

I stilled, with my questioning thoughts grinding to a halt, as I realized, with no small amount of surprise, that Floyd had never held my hand like this. 

Instead of lacing our fingers together as they were now, he’d always simply wrapped his hand around mine. Enveloping it in his larger hand as if he were trying to completely hide it from view. 

Perhaps it was to ensure he had a better hold on me, but then I’d always found that I had a better grip if I had laced my fingers through another person’s and locked our hands together in that fashion.

It was a wild shot in the dark, but I found myself eyeing the young man closely as I slowly began to question him, “Floyd, have you never….?”

I trailed off, not entirely sure how to finish my question. But Floyd evidently understood what I was asking since he nodded and responded fairly easily.

“In my mer-form, I’ve got finger webbing, so…” He trailed off, opting to continue to gaze at our hands before giving my hand a tentative little squeeze that had me wondering if this really was the same young man who usually gave out bone-crushing hugs and had what might be the most merciless grip I’d ever experienced.

Though, to be fair, whenever I received one of his squeezes, it was what he referred to as a ‘tiny squeeze’ and was more of a hug than the vice-like hold that he usually dubbed squeezes.

But instead of commenting on his typically crushing grip, I tentatively finished his sentence for him, “So you’ve never held hands like this?”

He nodded, his eyes still on our interlocked hands, with his dwarfing mine as he continued to hold my hand with a surprising amount of gentleness. Almost like he was afraid I would break or slip right from his grasp if he did anything else.

I frowned slightly as I watched him in silence, but it was a strange thought, because I didn’t think I’d ever outright run from him since our early meetings, when he’d been chasing me and making life generally difficult on Azul’s orders.

Since then, I’d gotten so that I was much closer to him and the other two young men of the Octavinelle dorm that had been involved at that time. Now I only ran from him in a more playful manner, though sometimes I was genuinely trying to get away from him; it was never out of fear.

But perhaps a stranger thought was the one of how he’d never held hands like this. Though it made sense in regards to the webbing he had in his merform, it was still strange to think that he’d never done so while on land.

He’d been here for a fair bit of time, after all. He was a second year here at Night Raven College already, and Azul had said they’d gone to some sort of boot camp when they’d come on land, so he’d had plenty of time to hold hands.

But perhaps the opportunity had never arisen. Either way, the novelty of holding hands like this did explain his quietness.

After just a few more moments of silence, his gaze lifted so that he was looking at me once more. An almost embarrassed smile crossed his face as he spoke once more, “It’s nice. Holding hands.”

He held up our interlocked hands as if to show me how nice it was, and I smiled at how our palms seemed to fit together like two puzzle pieces. 

His hand was larger, but mine still fit perfectly in his palm, and our fingers interlaced like they’d found the perfect place to rest. Almost like it was meant to be.

It was almost laughable, in moments like this, to think that so many of the other students here at NRC thought I was insane to spend time with Floyd. But then, I supposed most people didn’t see this side of him.

And, with an odd degree of surprise, I realized that he was right. This was nice, holding his hand like this.

Floyd was always a mercurial person, and somehow that made quiet moments like this all the more special.

By no means did I have a problem with his playful nature, and I could understand his mood swings. I had bad days myself.

But when compared to the usually busy days of time here at school with him and all of my other friends, moments like this seemed oddly precious.

And perhaps that was why my smile spread the way it did, and I gave his palm a tiny squeeze and received a very careful one in return as soon as I softly responded, “Yeah… It is.”

[awoogayanderes]

ME AND MY HUSBAND

➪ pairing : fyodor dostoevsky x reader

➪ sypnosis : in which you start having your regrets of being engaged to fyodor, unfortunately for you, it’s too late

➪ warnings : gaslighting, manipulation, unhealthy relationship, religious practices

➪ other notes : though this fanfic is fem implied, they/them pronouns are used, only “wife” is mentioned, im also not entirely sure how wedding vows work but i tried my best

you didn’t know why you accepted. maybe it was a glimpse of hope you saw, or maybe it was fyodor’s threatening eyes. “will you marry me,” four simple words that you knew would change the course of your life. you did love fyodor, but it was more fear that made you stay with him. even then, you accepted and here you are now, shopping for your wedding attire.

you were with sigma, knowing that nikolai would make it about himself or fyodor rather than you. you admired sigma, mostly always collected despite being crushed on the inside. you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy being more with him than fyodor. “how about this one?” the young man asked handing you something to try on. “i’ll try it on,” you say sadly smiling, regretting saying yes.

it looked perfect on you. wrapping around the right parts, you knew this was the one. sigma sweetly smiled at you and complimented how it looked on you. yet he couldn’t help but notice that your smile didn’t expand. “is something troubling you,” he asked confused. sigma didn’t know much about weddings but he knew that those who are getting married, should be over the moon excited, so why weren’t you..?

“do you think it was the right choice for me to accept fyodor’s proposal?” you unintentionally blurted out. sigma’s eyes widened in shock. noticing his expression, you retracted your statement. “sorry, just pretend i never said that, just some stupid pre-marital doubts,” you say hoping that sigma won’t question you. thankfully, he just nodded, staying quiet.

as you returned home, if you can even call it that, you decided that you would talk to fyodor, he would ease your thoughts, right? “fedya,” you go up to him as he types away on his keyboard leading to many monitors. he hums, letting you know he’s listening without looking at you. “do you think we’re getting married too soon?” his typing stops as he looks at you.

“you’re saying you don’t love me anymore,” he asks with a frown on his face. “no, i’m not saying that,” you plead. “it seems as if you don’t appreciate my effort,” fyodor’s calmly said. “i-i do,” you say, regretting ever coming up to him. he stands up, walking towards you, placing a delicate hand to your cheek. “then get with the program,” he smiles, knowing that he can destroy you with that one touch of his palm.

almost like a fever dream, time moves quickly and wobbly, now here you are in your wedding attire. you didn’t have anyone to walk you down the isle, it was almost embarrassing. ivan was the officiant, unsurprisingly. you don’t pay attention to any of his words, instead you look at your surroundings. you see only nikolai and sigma sitting in the audience silently watching. you feel fyodor’s hands squeeze yours.

it was his silent sign to not embarrass him and start paying attention. “fyodor dostoyevsky, do you promise to love, honor, cherish, and protect them, forsaking all others, and holding only unto them forevermore?” ivan asks fyodor, “i do,” he says staring at you almost lovingly like. “y/n l/n, do you promise to love, honor, cherish, obey, and protect him, forsaking all others, and holding only unto him forevermore?”

obey? that wasn’t in fyodor’s vows, why was it in yours? again, fyodor squeezed your hands. “i do,” you murmured timidly. with that said, fyodor said his final vow, “in the name of god, i, fyodor dostoyevsky take you, y/n l/n, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until parted by death. this is my solemn vow.” with this he put the ring on your finger.

you parroted the same vows, “in the name of god, i, y/n l/n take you, fyodor dostoyevsky, to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until parted by death. this is my solemn vow.” you put the ring on his finger shaking as you do so. “with these rings, i thee wed,” ivan said after the formal interchange.

“by the power vested in me by the name of the holy spirit, i now solemnly declare you husband and wife. let no one put asunder those that have been joined together today in the presence of almighty god. you may now seal this declaration with a kiss,” ivan declared, soon followed by you and your husband kissing. it was the final seal that gave your soul to satan.

[neopuppy]

Dive Into You: Part 4.(M)

Preview: “What brings you into confession today?”

Pastor Lee’s voice sounds through the small wooden booth around you. Uncomfortably shifting in your seat when the reality of confessing your sins to the one who brought them into this world settles.

“Pastor… what does the bible say about pre-marital sex with two brothers?”

“At the same time?!” Pastor Lee spits out abruptly, gagging on his words.

“Separately Pastor!”

Pairing: brothers Jeno/Haechan x female reader

Word Count: 4k

Genre: pwp, church boys AU, smut, love triangle, brothers nohyuck, a little angsty

Warning: sacrilegious themes, explicit language, master manipulator Haechan, innocent Jeno, corruption, cheating, religious innuendos

Smut Warning: dry humping, fingering, in public setting

Intro—>

Part 1–>

Part 2–>

Part 3–>

“Oh my gosh goodness, that woman is old enough to be his mother!” Your mother gasps, hand over her chest. Haechan strutting into mass with, quite frankly a woman old enough to be his mother. Scantily clad in a tight skimpy hardly there dress. Arm securely draped around her waist. Your jaw falls open following where he leads her into a pew. Both Mark and Jeno sharing looks, back and forth between you and Haechan. Mumbling whispers erupting throughout the crowd of church-goer’s gathered.

“Isn’t that woman just a bit too mature for Pastor Lee’s son?” A voice behind you whispers. Conversations sparking around faster. Pastor Lee awestruck at the podium, slack jawed similar to you and others questioning what Haechan is doing. Your mother scoffing eavesdropping in on everyone muffling their words.

“That is just disappointing. Such a promising young man, wasting his time with an old whore like that.” She lets out a sound in dismay. Never noticing how you hide your face behind the scripture for today's mass. If you muted everyone's speaking enough, sure enough, you’d be able to hear your heartbreaking this very moment. Blinking away hot tears threatening to pass over the rims of your eyes.

Your mother may have not noticed, but that didn’t mean the altar boys missed the way you sunk into your seat. Sadness taking over your features as Haechan relaxed in the pew across from you. Arm around this woman’s shoulders, large smirk displayed. Jeno and Mark gave you many warnings, too many. Your stubborn fault for not listening…always insisting to do things your way. Maybe this was how life worked? How could you have expected a guy like Haechan to want you for more than sex?

Your eyes lift to the ominous cross hung above the altar where you let Haechan commit sin with your body. This church becoming more like a place to drag your mind through hell than anything. Ah, but what was really the point in letting yourself get upset over this? He used you, like some brainless naive idiot you danced along to the pied pipers fiddle.

With a few rapid blinks you return to stare at the floor until this dragging mass ends. Catching Jeno’s gaze before you land on the dirty brown itchy carpet. His lips part open, surprised when your eyes lock on each other. The question passing through his mind all too obvious in his stare. A silent ‘are you ok?’ that you didn’t even deserve from him.. Forcing a smile, your eyes end on the floor, defeated. What if Jeno was the angel on your shoulder that you turned a muted ear to? Turning the volume up for the devil on your other side. Consequences, that’s what the bible was all about wasn’t it? Learning your lesson and living with the aftermath.

Eve bit into the apple of temptation, you were no different.

——————————————————————————

“Father Lee insisted we provide fruit along with baked goods. Health is wealth!” Your mother slaps an apple in your palm. Turning to greet approaching bodies with a shining bright small. Like a wire hanger was propped in her mouth.

“Watermelon! My favorite!” Mark’s brows wiggle, picking up a plate of vibrant fruit. “The fruit of salvation. You know fruit represents, pleasures.. overindulgence, temptation.”

Mark holds up a slice of bright red watermelon. Pale light in the bible room dimming it’s flavorful beauty. Admiring it as if it’s the best thing in the world. He takes a large bite, avoiding seeds. Juice spilling down his chin, speaking between chews- “Can’t always agree with the bible I guess.”

“That’s shocking coming from you..” you look at the apple in hand. Thumb rubbing over a bruise developed on the red yellow coating.

“Nothings perfect right? Only God is perfect. Look at that apple, bruised but still serves a purpose. Sort of like us, we have our flaws but we’re doing our best.” Mark shrugs, devouring the rest of his watermelon.

“You’re pretty logical when you’re not quoting Samael 6:66 all the time.” You smile, earning the jaw drop from Mark as expected.

“Now that is just blasphemous, you little harlot!” Mark scoffs. Damn finger waving about in front of your nose. “Jesus said..”

“Save the quote, I’m not seeing the gates of heaven anytime soon.” You quietly interrupt Mark. Setting down the apple with the other fruits. Some more pristine then others, none perfect. How could perfection be defined anyway..

“I’m pretty sure my invitation to the sky above got revoked years ago.” Perfection spoke up. Jeno standing by, catching the tail end of your conversation. Hands shoved into the pockets of his tight black jeans. Form hugging black t-shirt tucked in. Defined trimmed waist leading down to sculpted long legs. Physique of a God if you’d ever seen one.

“Gods for sure not the only perfect being..” you mumble under your breath. Mark and Jeno’s eyes both lifting to you curiously. Smiling, shrugging off a response. “Well I’m sure you redeemed yourself with all that bible camp stuff. God loves shit like that.”

“Does he now?” Jeno’s arms cross over his chest. Forehead wrinkling in surprise. Mark muttering into another bite of fruit how you needed to stop cursing all the time.

“He doesn’t communicate with me, but I’d imagi-…” Haechan’s loud laughter cuts your speech off. Entering the room with that woman old enough to be his mother. Pulling them closer to the table filled with coffee, pastries, fruits. Shifting side to side anxiously as they near, stomach bubbling in.. embarrassment? Was it because Mark and Jeno knew?..or could at least assume very well.

“Aw nono, you already changed out of your cute little altar boy get up? Wanted to introduce my girl to my cute innocent little brother. Now you just look like hot topic threw up on you or something.” Haechan pokes at Jeno. Smirk plastered across his face. Jeno’s ‘fuck off’ reply coming in like garbled words.

My girl?! My girl? All of a fucking sudden? Hag. Haechan wasn’t even sparing you a glance. If he was trying to make it clear there was nothing between the two of you- he didn’t need to try much harder. Accepting the situation the best to your abilities or not wasn’t going to stop the rush of tears attempting to streak down your face. A quick spin had you racing out of the church, Jeno’s neck snapping catching sight of your back exiting.

“You’re such a dick Haechan.” Shoving past his older brother, Jeno pushes past a few bodies. Running out of church behind you.

“I didn’t watch the porn because there was a watermelon in it…BUT there was a watermelon in it…” Mark’s eyes lift expecting to see you and Jeno. Too engrossed in his favorite snack. Haechan staring at him dumb founded.

“This is exactly why I don’t believe in God.” Haechan’s head shakes, teeth clicking. Nudging the woman at his side to agree with him. “He’s my distant cousin. Emphasis on distant.”

——————————————————————————-

“Hey! Wait up!” Jeno catches up to you easily. Long legs sprinting out faster than you were moving. Hand wrapping around your arm, revealing your wet tear stained face with a turn. His face instantly falling, chest moving up and down returning to a regular breathing pace.

“It’s ok..” hands lift covering your face. You should be accustomed to this sensation of embarrassment by now. Hunching in, sobbing harder the more it settles in. Humiliating deeper because it wasn’t some secret you could live with. Jeno knew exactly how easily you walked into his brothers trap.

His hands shook, staying still in the air near your head. Internally resisting the immediate urge to comfort you. Arms dropping, hands flopping down by his sides. Lips pursing annoyed he couldn’t bring himself to even touch you. The fact was- you weren’t interested in him. You were another broken girl, crying at his feet over Haechan. Ignoring the stinging pain in his chest, from watching you break down. From knowing why you were in such pain. Who knew either way, Jeno wasn’t going to admit it.

“I can.. take you home..”

His delicate rasp reaches your ears past muffled cries. Pouting, rubbing your palms across wet heated cheeks. Reminding yourself in the back of your mind how you probably looked like shit. The last way you’d prefer for Jeno to see you, not that it mattered.

“Don’t wanna go home..” you sigh into your hands, shoulders shaking trying to control yourself. “Dad’s home..”

Jeno looks around, eyes falling on his bike under a large tree. Shaded from the bright daytime sun. Mouth lifting to one side, he could take you to the diner? The book shop was closed on Sundays to prioritize mass.. or maybe..

“I got a place..” Jeno pulls your wrist. Sad face reveal causing another type of tight clench in his chest. “Come with me.”

Gently leading you toward his bike, unclasping the helmets attached along the back. The memory of riding attached to his back still drawing impure thoughts to your mind. No idea who you even were anymore. Riding around on the back of an attractive boys motorcycle. Losing your virginity in church of all places.

Arms circling around his flat stomach. Jeno smelled nice, clean and fresh. Nothing too strong, your nose tempted to dive in with a deep inhale. Opting to rest your chin on his broad upper back where it dipped down the middle. Not bothering to question where he was going to take you, grateful he even cared.

He cared.

“What is this place?” You cautiously stepped forward. Looking down the ledge of the cliff Jeno had brought you to. Setting the helmets back on the bar attached at the end of his bike.

“I guess I come here to get away.” He shrugs, moving to stand by your side. “Small town, not many places to go. It’s hard when you’ve lived here all your life, everyone thinks they know you..”

“Yea..” guilt gnaws away at your gut. You were no different from everyone else. Like your mother looking at Jeno with preconceived notions, judgement. “It’s hard when you’re the town pastor’s son, I can only imagine..”

“Pft.. cause he’s so innocent. Somehow brain washed everyone into forgetting he cheated, knocked up my mom while still married to Haechan’s..”

“Oh…” scuffing your boots nervously against dirt. Sparing glances Jeno’s way. Chiseled jaw having you ready to swoon like some sad teenager passing her crush in the hallway. Mind so far away distracted, screaming at yourself that Jeno’s trying to have a deep conversation with you. “I didn’t uh…know that about your dad.”

“He just lucked out my mom didn’t tell anyone about the church intern fresh out of high school that she filed divorce papers over..” Jeno says, removing his jacket. Holding it open for you with a questioning look. Your eyes widen, immediately caving in a moment of weakness. Allowing him to drape the material around your shoulders. Fresh scent engulfing your sense of smell.

“You’re really.. nice Jeno. Considering everything, I have to admit I expected you to be more like Haechan..” you express, pulling the jacket around yourself tighter.

“We aren’t that different, growing up together will do that. Someone has to be the scapegoat, unfortunately it’s always me. Typical younger sibling syndrome right?” Jeno rubs his exposed arm, muscle tank revealing bits of tattoo. You nod to his words, unable to picture Jeno and Haechan getting along like two loving brothers.

“Your tattoo… your dad doesn’t know about it right?” You inquire, returning to topic back to Jeno. Ready to forget his brothers existence, at least for the time being.

“Oh yea..he’d probably ship me off to Jerusalem, peace core or some shit.” Jeno laughs, pushing the loose cut off sleeve up. Further exposing the evil creature blaring into your vision.

“Why a demon?”

“Why not right? I lost my faith in religion when my dad kept coming up with new excuses for why his sins were forgiven. God isn’t real anyway.” Jeno finishes. Eyes narrowing, expecting a reaction from you.

“I think you’re right actually..” you nod, softly smiling. Awestruck eyes staring into yours, satisfied. “..I should probably get home. Didn’t even tell my mom I was leaving. She’s gonna be so pissed..”

“Ah yea..can’t have that. She’s pretty intense huh?” Jeno scratches his throat anxiously. The voice in the back of his mind yelling at him to do something now. “..I’ll take you home.”

You take languid drawn out steps together. Tension surging between your bodies like electric shocks. Jeno reaching for his helmet. Fingers hesitating to open the clasp.

“Can I ask you something?” he looks away, teeth digging at his bottom lip. Was that nerves?

“Of course” you promptly respond, bouncing on your toes.

“If Haechan..hadn’t.. I don’t know, gotten to you first..” Jeno cringes. Focusing his eyes on the ground. Ending his curiosity there, struggling with his hope that you’d ever like him.

“What do you mean?” Your brows furrow, moving in, closing the space between your bodies. Jeno’s eyes meet yours, giving away the intent behind his question. “..you..why are you asking? You don’t..”

“It’s nothing, forget it.” Jeno’s head shakes, realization hitting you. Guys like Jeno never gave you the time of day..

“Would you have?” Boldly your hand lands on his, pulling fingers away from the helmet. Still wearing his jacket, could you be more oblivious?

“I wanted to..” those words are all it takes. Pushing up on your toes, lips smashing on his. Fever like heat raising your confidence to go for it. Jeno’s been good to you- the cold demeanor a cover up for how painfully shy you make him.

Hands find your hips, pressing you against the seat of his bike. Ass digging into the warm leather, jacket falling from your shoulders. Jeno kissing you back needy, full of desperation, loud breaths passing through his nose. Finger nails scraping the material of your dress, gathering the fabric up. Skin rubbing on the sun kissed bike under you. He presses in, tongue flicking out, asking for permission to enter. Fisting the cotton shirt on his chest in a wrinkled mess. Mouth parting so fast, too fast. Wet tongues eagerly meeting, rolling against the roof of your mouth.

Jeno’s groans are hot, raspy and deep. Affecting you quickly, sinking back on the bike when his hips roll between your thighs. Hard on tenting angrily in tight jeans. Grinding against your soaking core.

“God I..” Jeno mumbles on your lips, lapping spit across your mouth. His own pouting out cutely, blood tinted lips shining in outdoor light. “I really…whoa..fuck..”

“Jeno..” your arms lift, wrapping around his neck. Bringing your bodies together impossibly close. Pained moan trapped in his throat, thrusting in anguish. Craving to bend you over on his bike, slap your ass and fuck you until you can’t even remember his brothers name.

Jeno’s thumb shoves between your wet mouth, tongue swirling around. Groaning louder with another crushing thrust. Cock screaming for release, working up a faster speed. Demanding movements bouncing you on the bike. Eyes falling shut sucking at his thumb, picturing the length prodding at your walls sitting heavy in your mouth instead. Both of you growing needier with each dry hump against each other. Calves finding Jeno’s hips, lifting yourself up writhing against the hard fabric of his worn jeans.

“You feel so good..fuck..” Jeno captures your upper lip, sucking harshly. Hips growing furious, thigh muscles flexing tightly. Dragging sweet panted moans out of you, thumb opening your mouth. Saliva drooling past both of your lips messily, chins coated in each other.

“Please..” you whimper, pleading. Unsure what you could be begging for. Jeno nods reassuringly, gripping the back of your neck. Hand falling from your mouth, finding space between your legs. Drenched underwear shoved aside, sliding long fingers up and down. Catching your wetness, palm covered, landing loudly on your mound. Jeno finding your clit, pressing down hard. Surprised scream releasing from your chest. Tongue covering your exposed neck, nipping at dips.

“Can I?” Jeno’s fingers prod your opening up entrance. Head nodding rapidly, eyes wide. Gliding past your convulsing walls. Groaned curses repeating from his lips, finding way deep inside of you. Slender pretty hands working you to a heightened pleasure. Jeno continuously licking around your jaw, catching parted lips in bites. Hard enough to leave you a swelling pained mess, lips pursing out asking for more.

He lets your neck go, face dropping, forehead hitting his shoulder. Tattoo coming to life so close up, licking the expanse inked skin. Jeno grits his teeth, whimpering with squeezed eyes. Hand squeezing your hip, fingers jabbing in and out. Thumb circling your clit with expertise, nothing innocent in his touches.

He squirms on your thigh, member begging to fuck you open. Resisting to need for himself, fully focused on getting you off. Enjoying the way your eyes roll, tongue hung out letting your mind succumb to his touches.

Your hips jump up, wriggling into the thrusts of his fingers. Reaching far deep within, hitting every delicious spot. Lips landing together in a bruising sloppy kiss, muffling strained moans. Jeno’s thumb pressing down just right on your clit, precise fingers hitting where you need him in repeated motions. Trembling around him, walls gripping tightly. Jeno’s motions slowing down, letting the climax high wash over you. Softly tracing kisses atop your burning cheeks, staggering down to your neck. Soft nips turning into hard bites, leaving marks of himself behind.

“I..” Jeno’s forehead rolls over yours, skin dragging against his. Nose nudging gently at you, nerves still clouding his sense. Hard breaths landing on your face, eyes finding yours, mind returning back to you. “I want.. I like you.. I need…..I want..to take you out, like…date out...”

You nod a bit too excited, nose hitting his. Jeno’s stressed words making you clench up around his fingers yet again. Another pained groan blended into a sigh sounding around you. “I want that so bad Jeno.. I really want you.”

—————————————————————————-

“What brings you in to confession today?”

Pastor Lee’s voice sounds through the small wooden booth around you. Uncomfortably shifting in your seat when the reality of confessing your sins to the one who brought them into this world settles.

“Pastor… what does the bible say about pre-marital sex with two brothers?”

“At the same time?!” Pastor Lee spits out abruptly, gagging on his spit.

“Separately Pastor!” You shriek out. Fingers stopping your lips, wondering if Pastor would recognize your voice. It’s not as if you spent time speaking to each other much..

“Well..” Pastor Lee’s throat clears, adjusting the collar tightening around his neck. “That’s..good to hear. Are you planning to wed one of these men?”

“Wed?! Like marry?” Your forehead creases, thinking it over. It was way too early to even consider such a thing. “I’m not pregnant pastor!”

“That’s…that’s good news my child.” Pastor audibly swallows. Sweat gathering at his hairline. “You..wish to know what the bible has to say about this?

“Am I going to hell if I choose to…have intercourse with both of them? I’ve only slept with one..”

“Only?” The pastor sounds flabbergasted. Gulping down another loud breath of air. “You won’t go to..hell over this. You need to repent for your mistakes none the less. God is good, and forgiving.”

“So, I’m not going to hell right?” Your frazzled tone sounds around the booth. Growing frustrated the longer he skirts around your questions.

“Yes my child, of course God does, but!-…”

“….God forgives all right? Like…God will love and forgive me even if I do happen to…somehow…you know..fornicate with uhm..” you chew on your thumb nail, catching yourself ready to say- ‘your sons’. “..siblings?”

Pastor Lee becomes frantic on the other side of the confessional booth. Fingers quickly turning through thin pages of his bible. Murmuring sounds of ‘uhm’ between, buying extra time to find an explainable excuse for why you absolutely should not do such a thing.

“Now my child.. yes God loves you, of course. I cannot say he would approve of you doing this! What about the brothers bond you could end up destroying?? That would be greed and lust! Those are sins child, sins!” Pastor Lee exasperates. Patting a handkerchief along his sweating forehead. Small towns hardly ever brought him confessions this extreme.

“Pastor, did you not have sex out of wedlock once too?.. more than once! With two different women! Does God approve of that?” You sit up straight. Hand slapping over your mouth after speedily replying. Shit, God probably didn’t care much for this conversation, that’s for damn sure..

“Child of God! now..” the pastor continues, avoiding your accusations. “Are you going to go through with this regardless of what excerpt from the bible I give you?”

“Yes father…I believe so..I really like this guy..” you timidly say. The thought that the pastor could have you in mind making your stomach turn.

“Well then..” with a heavy dissatisfied sigh, Pastor Lee continues. “Twenty hail Marys and Fifty our fathers should do it.”

“Fifty?!” your mouth falls open, disbelief stricken by the idea of sitting here for the next three hours repeating prayers.

“Make that seventy child. Ten for each seven deadly sin.”

You pause for a moment, hand on the door knob ready to exit. Mouth gaped considering asking what the bible says about losing your virginity in church. A minute of contemplation later, you decide it’s best to add another fifty hail Mary’s.

“Thank you so much Pastor Lee!”

——————————————————————————

It felt a little scary, but fun, getting ready for your date with Jeno. Of course you still wanted to leave an impression, even with his confession.

Repeating it in your mind over and over again: A. Date. With. Jeno.

Holy fucking shit. What alternative universe had you stumbled into moving to live here. Maybe the best way to get over someone really was by getting under someone else…younger brother and all. God had to be real if this was how your love life was playing out.

Walking up to Jeno, he was a complete vision. Black messy hair pointing different directions, as if he just ruffled it and said ‘good enough’. Leather jacket all too tight over his defined rippling biceps, like a second skin. Silver chain necklaces shining under the sunset across the orange red sky behind him. Hoops adorning his ears making the sparkle in his eyes come to life. The large steel ball chain necklace catching your eye against his pale thick neck. Imagining him on top of you coated in a sheen of sweat. Cold chains dangling down on your skin..

“Isn’t this… your brothers car?!?” Your eyes nearly bulge out of sockets asking the question. Drawn out of the quick fantasy you’d almost drifted into. The cherry black trans am practically glowing behind Jeno.

“It is, isn’t it..” Jeno’s smile lifts into his eyes. Fingers waving around a set of keys mid-air. “Who do you think Haechan learned how to pick pocket from? Still no match to the king.”

Jeno unlocks the car, opening up the passenger door for you. Surprising you first with his tattoos.. now this. Maybe he wasn’t the innocent cute younger brother you’d perceived him as all this time.

The engine sounded alive, Jeno pulling out of your driveway. Better looking than any heart throb you’d see on some terrible basic cable teen drama. Arm reaching around the space between your bodies. Other stretched in front of him. Long fingers attached to pretty veins flexing around the spinning steering wheel. All he had to do was grab your thigh to set you bursting up in flames. Stealing subtle looks at him picturing the tattoo adorning his perfectly sculpted shoulder.

“Haechan doesn’t know you borrowed his car I’m guessing? Won’t he be mad?” You wonder out loud. Jeno’s smile spreading into his cheeks. Eyes squinting under the low sun coming through the windshield. Relaxed in the drivers seat making way down the empty road. Arm closest to you splaying out, fingers wrapping around your exposed leg. Shivers shooting up your heat from where his large palm covers the majority of your visible mid-thigh.

“That’s the plan.”

Final—>

taglist: @seuomo @unknown5tar @sunoosi @nabi-nono @ahsshilee-me @safariria @nctlover94 @underjeno @nanascupid @jenorenle @scruffiejelly @mel-yjh @winwiniee @count-your-shadows @sunflowerhae @johnjaespeach @nctflix @notsooperfect @skrtbeepbeep @lanadreamie @nctstrawberrycow @meonlightuniverxse @sunshinedhyuck @haechanswhore @n0hyuck @kpopmultiifandomm @d1nne @neobanguniverse @pewpewpwe00 @abitofafan @haechansworld @born5sos @bockhyun @jen0zen @xuyiyangstan @alexameliamg @negincho @na-na-nakita @jeon-jungkook-is-actually-god @xwanna127x @heyitsbreeeeee @melaninjhs @cacaubs @multifandombtvh @kyngaji @whlplazh @eleanorfreakingchan @classic-antifood @sheytanni @player23 @wavetease @nahyuckk @doyoungssouthernbabygirl

[slasher-male-wife]

The Lost boys meeting their future male s/o

I had a thought about this while trying to work out another idea but I liked this one better, also my vampire brain rot won me over. Anyway here's a silly little thing about my silly little boys. I know a lot of this diolauge is awkward and cringe but I don't know how to talk to people so this is the best I can do. Also it does end weirdly but I did the best I could.

Warnings: Strong language

Paul

You're looking at crates of records and cassette tapes on the board walk again like you do every Friday after work, looking at all the new shipments and trying to find something good. You've got Strawberry Switchblade's self titled album on tape in your hand at the moment while you look through records. Paul's been watching you for the past few weeks, noticing your habit and waiting for the right moment to go up and talk to you. He sees the tape in you hand as one he's looked over before. An idea soon brews and he makes his way over to you. "Hey you've got pretty good taste." He says looking at the tape in your hand. You glance over at him with a smile.

"You like Strawberry Switchblade?" You ask raising an eyebrow.

"I sure do, favorite Australian band out there." You look back over at him, realizing he actually knows the band and isn't just lying.

"Well I mean it makes sense. If you were a brunette and a woman you'd look just like them."

"I'm taking that as a compliment. I know pretty boys love big hair." You smile widens and so does his.

"Are you calling me a pretty boy?"

"I don't know, are you into boys?" You look around and nod, "I'm Paul."

"I'm Y/n. So Paul did you come over here to talk music all night or do you just want to sleep with me?" He puts a hand on his chest and pretends to be offended by this.

"Maybe I just wanted to get your number? Maybe I wanted to hang out with a pretty boy tonight ever think about that?"

"Maybe I will hang out with you, if you're fun enough."

"Don't worry doll, I'm very fun."

Marco

Marco's back at the video store again to look at the horror movies when he finds a small fight between you and another boy. "It's implied that sex gets you killed, not just pre-marital sex." You explain.

"Then how come you only see people who aren't married having sex and getting killed for it?" He retorts. You scoff.

"If you've seen chopping mall like you said you have it's clear that the married couple along with the other teens had sex and died. The only two to survive being the only ones who didn't have sex on screen." You gesture to the boy with you hand that's holding 'The prowler' by Joe Zeto. Marco smiles and makes his way closer.

"He's right you know. Sex in general gets you killed, not just pre-marital sex," The other boy scoffs and walks away, you turn and meet Marco's doe eyed gauze, " I can see you've got good taste in movies." He says looking down at your vhs.

"I can tell you do too. You look pretty cool. Like one of those rockers from return of the living dead. Shitty movie but still."

"Hey I don't mind, a compliments a compliment. Especially from a pretty boy like you," You eyes and smile widens. A sudden wave of surprise and joy washes over you, "I'm Marco."

"I'm Y/n. You've got a pretty name too. You know I've been meaning to watch this new movie I found called blood rage. I had a date but he bailed on me. Maybe some night we can go to the movies and watch it together."

"I'd like that pretty boy. I'd like that a lot."

Dwayne

You're walking around the boardwalk when you spot a small kid looking around confused and lost. You quickly made you way over to him and get on his level. "Hey there buddy are you ok?" You ask and he shakes his head.

"I lost Dwayne."

"Hey hey it's alright I'll help you find him. What's your name?"

"Laddie." He says with a sniffle.

"Well Laddie I promise to help you find Dwayne and you'll be back home with him soon. What does he look like?"

"He's tall and his hair is black and long and he has a motor bike." You nod and suck in a breath.

"Ok ok, how about I go get you some ice cream while we look for him?" He nods and you grab his hand. You lead him around keeping an eye out for Dwayne, whoever he is. You get him some ice cream and stop at a bench near by trying to come up with some kind of plan to return this kid to his brother? baby sitter? Whoever was watching him. Dwayne while making his way over saw how you were comforting Laddie. As he got a better look at you he got a feeling in his gut. A feeling that he can't let you go. He finally reaches the bench and Laddie gets up, running over to him. "I assume you're Dwayne?" You ask standing up.

"I am yeah. Thank you for watching him I got really worried when I lost him. What's your name?"

"I'm Y/n."

"Well Y/n I feel like I should return the favor to you. A pretty boy who does something nice deserves a treat." You chuckle and smile at the pet name.

"Well Dwayne what did you have in mind?"

David

You've been walking around the board walk all night. David started to follow you around about ten minutes ago, when you duck into a more secluded area and he follows you, you turn around to confront him. "Can I help you? Are you lost or something?" Your tone is harsh and Davids caught a bit off guard. He gets a good look at your face in the soft light. A smile makes a way onto his face.

"Hey calm down I just wanted to talk." He puts his hands up in a mock defense.

"Alright then you could have come up sooner. Maybe you could have also been less creepy."

"Well how can I make it up to a pretty boy like you?" He asks. You hum and think for a moment.

"Maybe you should tell this pretty boy your name before you try to flirt with him."

"Well I'm David." He holds out a leather clad hand.

"I'm Y/n," You take his hand and shake it, "Well David what did you have in mind for this pretty boy now that you know who he is?"

"How about I get you something to eat, then maybe I can show you an interesting sight." A small smile starts to grow.

"Alright David, lets see if you can impress this pretty boy."

[ichigoromi]

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐈𝐓 | 𝐌𝐒𝐁𝐘 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧 | 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐤𝐲𝐮𝐮 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧

GUYS AND GIRLS AND MY NON-BINARY MATES! IT'S OKAY TO STOP WHENEVER YOU WANT. DO NOT FEEL OBLIGATED TO CONTINUE JUST BECAUSE YOUR PARTNER WANTS. CONSENT IS BOTH WAYS.

Okay, yeah, I just want to put that out because I've seen some of my acquaintances or heard stories going through some traumatic shit because they weren't ready but were forced to go through it.

Pairing (s): MSBY Four — Bokuto Koutarou, Hinata Shoyo, Miya Atsumu and Sakusa Kiyoomi x fem! reader, all characters are aged up!

Genre: romance, fluff

Warning (s): mentions of sex, pre-marital sex, suggestive themes, toxic friends, peer pressure, sexual assault not suitable for 18 and under. 18 and under DNI.

a/n - not going to lie; I always feel uncomfy while writing kissing or seggs scenes because I have no idea how it feels. Do people really suck their partner's tongue while making out? I have tons of questions, but my irl friends are like me, we have no knowledge abt kissing...

Enjoy~!

Bokuto Koutarou

Bokuto is your first boyfriend, and he is your first for everything.

He is always patient and never rushes you.

You two always do things at your pace because he doesn't want you to feel uncomfortable.

But, you know that sooner or later, you two would have sex.

And the thought of it scares you.

You were brought up in a traditional and conservative family; sex was never really mentioned.

Most of your friends are experienced and often give you advice on how to do it.

Some of your 'friends' told you that he will leave you if you don't have sex with him soon.

You're an insecure individual, so hearing those, you can't help but feel obligated to have sex with him soon.

Bokuto has a high EQ, and he easily noticed that you were feeling upset.

Since you didn't want to worry him, you reassure him that you were okay.

After three years of dating, was he going to leave you because you two couldn't have sex because of you?

Bokuto pulls you onto his lap, and you gently loop your arms around his neck to bring him closer to you. You kissed him back with as much passion as he was, and he sneaks his hands underneath your shirt to massage your stomach gently.

You softly moaned when he slips his tongue into yours, and he playfully sucks on it.

He stops kissing your lips and slowly kisses his way down to your neck, and sucks on your collarbones, leaving light love bites on them. Your breath hitched when you felt him cupping your breast; you immediately pushed his hands away.

At first, Bokuto felt a bit taken back by your reaction, then he saw your glassy eyes.

"Hey, what's wrong? You can tell me." He tries to touch you, but you shook your head.

"I'm not ready...I don't want to do this, Kou. Are you going to leave me?" Bokuto was confused; why the hell would you come to a conclusion that ridiculous just because you didn't want to have sex with him?

He cups your face and makes you face him.

"Babe, it's okay if you're not ready. We don't have to do this if you don't want to. We can stop. I'll never leave you. Was it those friends of yours again? Dump them. If my baby doesn't want to have sex, then we shall not. We shall do it when you're ready, okay? Don't feel pressured by them; we do this at our pace. Now, do you want to watch a movie and cuddle?" You meekly nodded your head, and he kisses your forehead and on the lips.

Bokuto went back to the room and came back with a big fleece blanket.

"Virgin or not, I will always love you. Don't listen to the rubbish they are talking about. If you wanna have sex, we can do it. As long you are comfortable, that is all I want. Don't blame yourself, okay?" He flicked your forehead when he noticed your sad pout.

He set up the TV and dims the lights in the living room. You sat in his lap, and he wraps the blanket around the two of you as the movie starts playing.

"Kou, I love you. Thank you for being so understanding." You thanked him and kisses his cheek.

"I love you too." Bokuto pulls you closer and kisses the top of your head.

Miya Atsumu

Atsumu loves you a lot.

You were the first girlfriend he has brought home to his parents, and Osamu approves of you.

It seems like he has found his match. His fans were glad to see him in a relationship where he is genuinely happy.

Before Atsumu, you dated a couple of guys, and it was all bad experiences.

Your first boyfriend forced you to give your virginity to him, and he was older, so you thought that was what you're supposed to do in a relationship.

The second guy just took advantage of your vulnerability and exploit you in the worst possible ways.

You met Atsumu while working as a pilates instructor, and their's team trainer introduced you to him.

And you two have been dating for about two years after knowing for about a year.

Sex...you two did talk about it, but you were just not ready to do it after all the traumatic experiences.

And, he was okay with it.

You felt bad because sometimes you can hear him touching himself, yet you can't help him with his needs.

"Tsumu, let's do it." You climb into his lap and captures his lips into yours. He was surprised, but nonetheless, he loves kissing you. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer to him.

His hands crept up to your inner thighs, and he starts massaging your thighs.

You felt a bit squirmish and slight discomfort, but you ignored it and starts kissing down his neck, leaving love bites, and you helped him removed his shirt.

Atsumu knows you well, and he noticed your expression. Even though it was subtle, he noticed how you were slightly uncomfortable and when he touches you, you flinched by reflex.

All the small actions that you unconsciously do make him realised that you were forcing yourself to do.

"Hey, we don't have to do it if you're not ready. You don't have to force yourself." Hearing him say that, you broke down in tears.

He holds you securely and pats your back in a comforting manner as you cry.

Even though you wanted to do it, he sensed that you were uncomfortable and decided to stop you. He noticed that you were not ready and immediately stopped and comforted you; it made you realise that he is not like your exes.

"Babe, we can do it when you're ready to do it. No need to rush yourself; I can wait. I'm not going to leave just because we are not having sex." He comforted you and nodded your head.

You lifted up your head, and his heart ached at the sight of your tear-stained cheeks.

"I'm sorry for not being able to things like a normal couple. I just thought that you might leave me if we don't have sex..." He shook his head and cups your face in his hands.

"I can wait as long as you are ready to do it. I'm not going to leave you just because we can't have sex. If I have any urges, I'll just touch myself or something. I want you to feel that you are safe with me and under no pressure. If you don't want to have sex, we don't have to. Is that clear?" He stroke your cheeks gently.

"Thank you for being so patient. I just feel-" Atsumu shuts you up by kissing you on the lips.

"No more feeling bad in this house! Let's watch your favourite show and order takeout, okay?" He was desperately trying to comfort you.

"Okay, I'll stop feeling bad. I love you." You leaned in to kiss his lips.

"I love you too. Now, I'll go get you one of my hoodies and we can cuddle more after I go calm myself down. See you in a bit!" He pecks your lips and rushed off to the bathroom.

Hinata Shōyō

He may look innocent, but Hinata probably has more experience than you.

But this guy has tons of patience when it comes to you.

You knew him since young since he was a neighbour of yours.

After graduating high school, you two reconnected and started dating shortly.

So, you two have been dating for three years, and there has never been a dull moment with him.

However, your friends ask about your sex life, but the two of you literally did nothing. The most you guys did was make out.

It's not you guys are super pure or innocent; you two felt there wasn't a need to have sex.

But how long can he last without having sex?

So you decided to ask him directly about it.

The two of you were just chilling on the sofa after dinner. You snuggled against him, and he wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer to him. When you two entered into the relationship, you guys promised each other to always be open.

Communication was the key to a stable relationship, and it was bugging you.

"Babe, are you okay without having sex? We've been going out for three years, and we never had sex. I just want to know your opinion about it." It was direct, and he never expects to have this kind of talk with you.

He thinks for a moment and hugs you tighter.

"Well, I am fine without it since I've been so busy training. I just want to spend time with you, sex or no sex; I love being around you. And, it's your body too. When you are ready, you can just tell me. No need to rush." He kisses your cheeks, and you nodded your head.

"Okay, I just want to know. You know, because my friends are talking about how sex is the one factor keeping their man. What about you?" You poked his cheeks, and he pouts.

"I'm not that horny! Anyways, I love coming home to your cooking and how you decorate our apartment and our dates! Not all relationships are like that...Or perhaps, you are the horny one in this relationship?" He scooted over from you and gasped.

You rolled your eyes at his dramatic self.

"You are the horny one! I caught you doing it in the bathroom!"

"You did it too! You left your dildo by the bathroom counter!"

The two of you burst out laughing at each other.

"Alright, we can do it whenever you are ready. Wait, we are going to miss the show! Turn on the TV!"

Sakusa Kiyoomi

Both of you are pretty direct in your relationship since you guys prioritise communication.

The talk of sex never really come up in your conversation.

You two have not moved in together yet but are looking at potential places to move in together.

Your parents were happy to hear you two were finally getting your own place after dating for five years and are engaged now.

Both of you rarely have the time to meet since you both are busy, but Sundays are meant for dates.

Your friends are shocked to hear that you and Sakusa never have sex throughout your relationship, not even once.

Maybe you two could just keep in your pants 👀.

Obviously, you two almost did it, but both of you stopped each other before it went further.

Sakusa himself has a lot of restraint but sometimes, seeing you in his shirt and cooking in his kitchen really turns him on.

He stood up from the sofa and approached you from the back. You jumped slightly when he wrapped his arms around your waist and leaned his chin on your shoulder.

"Wait a bit; good food takes time to cook. You can have some strawberries if you're hungry. My uncle sent some from his farm." He was not looking for some strawberries.

Sakusa softly kisses the nape of your neck; you accidentally let out a moan when he sucks on your sensitive spot. His naughty hands slyly sneak under your shirt and touch your stomach, leaving feathery touches below your bra.

He never stops kissing your neck, and you knew this might end up in the bedroom if you don't stop him and no dinner for you two.

"Kiyoomi, stop. I'm not ready yet." You told him firmly, and he stops immediately.

You turn down the stove and turns around to face him. He looked away, feeling guilty that he lost his rationality when he saw you in his shirt.

"Hey, don't feel bad. I stopped you, didn't I? That's all that matter." He lets out a deep sigh and pulls you into his embrace.

"I'm sorry. Seeing you in my shirt, I lost my rationality. You look so damn hot in it." He confessed, and you burst out laughing.

Sakusa frowned and cups your face to make you look at him.

"Fine, I won't laugh but get those strawberries and get out of the kitchen." You loop your arms around his neck to bring him down to your height for a kiss.

He lets you go and got the strawberries to the living room but his eyes were admiring your back as you return back to cooking.

YAASSSSSSS! I'M DONE!

I'm so happy that I have finished writing this! Hope you all enjoyed this! Thank you for reading!

Stay safe and healthy!

With love,

Rosalie🍓

[nxrthmizu]

love in bubble wraps.

fandom | haikyuu!!

pairing | kuroo tetsurou x reader

genre | fluff

w.c | 1.9k

author's note | based on a real life experience... :)

Love, you think, comes in many forms. Sometimes love is a warm, home-cooked meal that is now cooked at least once a week because you told your mother you liked it. Other times, love is laughing and crying alongside the friends you’ve known since pre-school because everyone passed their highschool finals with flying colours. Throughout our lives, we gradually come to meet the different forms of love, because it comes in all shapes, colours, and sizes.

First, we learn that love is a roof that you can always turn to when a storm blows in. Then, we learn that love is knowing that there are people who will drop everything to help you when your car breaks down in the middle of nowhere. Lastly, we learn to interlock our fingers with the one we wish to walk to the end of time with.

Then again, love varies from person to person— Just like how the goddess of love, Aphrodite, looks different to every soul that sets its sights on her; Beauty truly lies in the eye of the beholder. For some, love comes in the form of a warm body to cuddle next to on a rainy day. For others, love comes in the form of a jewelled ring. For you, love comes in the form of a 6’2 man who still doesn’t know how to tame his bedhead.

Tetsurou is often too busy for his own good, always running around here and there to secure contracts, ensuring that Japan can make a name for itself during the Olympics. He books train tickets to opposite ends of Japan at least once a month, leaving before the sun rises and returning after it sets. The sun never dictates his work day, because while his coworkers work from nine to five, Tetsurou works until he finishes his tasks.

Okay, so your husband is a bit of a workaholic. And maybe not just a bit.

“L/N-san,” Your colleague asks one day out of sheer curiosity. A group of women are gathered around the snack station, sipping on cheap, machine-produced instant coffee as they gossip about their marital lives instead of working. “Now that I think about it… I’ve never met your husband, have I?”

“Ah,” You sweat-drop nervously at this. Wonderful— Your parents are already pressuring you about how Kuroo rarely visits with you— And now your coworkers, too? “He’s quite busy. He works very hard to make sure that we’ll be well-off in the future.” You respond, knowing that your reply is just a thinly-veiled way of saying ‘He’s rarely home,’.

“Oh, that’s awful,” Wherever you go, there’s always a middle-aged lady who has nothing better to do than to prey on the weak spots of your life, “It must feel lonely. You must feel so sad when you see my husband pick me up from work.” A smirk dances up her lips as she waits for you to walk into her trap, smiling as widely as a spider watching its incoming meal.

“Not really,” A practiced smile counters hers as you take a sip of your coffee. “I know Tetsurou loves me— There’s an unbreakable trust between us. He might not be home often, but I know that he’s working hard so that we can have a better tomorrow… And that’s sort of comforting, in a sense. Knowing that Tetsurou wishes for a future where we’re financially stable, where we can just spend a whole day doing nothing in each other’s presence…”

A chorus of ‘awws’ makes you blush. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the middle-aged coworker huff in failure. You mentally fist-pump the air at your victory.

“Anyway, I heard that you got engaged last weekend, Shiho-san,” Changing the topic quickly, you smile when the attention of all the ladies instantly redirects to the said woman, who blushes fiercely as they all coo at her ring. “Congratulations!”

“Oh my! He bought you such a beautiful ring… Ah, Shiho-san, you’re so lucky!”

“My husband also bought me a new bag last week,” The middle-aged woman chips in proudly, cocking her head towards her cubicle, where the leather handbag sits atop a tower of documents. “It’s very expensive.”

“That’s nice of him! It’s been forever since my husband bought me something.” Sighs another lady. Most of the group hums in agreement, sharing sympathetic looks with those that share the same fate.

“At the beginning, when we were still dating, Hayato used to buy me so many things, now…” The coworker that brings homemade cookies every New Years’ party says, looking dejected. “It’s like once we’re married, they don’t have to worry about making us happy anymore…”

“Ah, what about you, L/N-san? Does your husband buy you things often?”

You groan internally when the attention shifts to you once more. Honestly, you’re just there to listen and enjoy your coffee— Must you keep getting dragged into the conversation? “Well, personally I don’t really need my husband to buy me things to keep me happy, but… He does bring back trinkets whenever he travels.” You think about it for a while, then brighten when you remember the latest thing Tetsurou brought back for you.

“What is it?” Your change in expression isn’t missed by your coworkers, who preen with curiosity, excited to know what made you brighten up.

“Ah, it’s nothing… I promise, you’ll be disappointed if I tell you.” You chuckle.

“Come on!” “Be a good sport, L/N-san!” “We’re curious now, you can’t not tell us!”

“Oh, fine.” You sigh, “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

[ Three days ago, Saturday ]

You were on the couch, binge-watching Grey’s Anatomy with the Netflix subscription Tetsurou got for you to occupy yourself with while he was out of town. Your cat, Kazume (nicknamed after your husband’s best friend) lazed on your lap, yawning once in a while and swatting at the stray threads from your sweater.

Somewhere in between your fifteenth and seventeenth episode, the front door chirped with the sound of someone inserting a key into the lock. You perked up at the noise, Kazume yelping in protest as he almost slipped off.

“Oh, sorry Kazu.” You said quickly, a smile widening your lips as the front door opened.

“I’m ho—” Before your husband could finish his sentence, you were already at his side. Kazume meowed loudly from the couch, complaining about you abandoning him for another man. Tetsurou’s eyes softened, the edges of his hazel irises worn down by exhaustion. You took his laptop bag from him, as well as the folders he has in hand, balancing them like how you would balance your three grocery bags when Tetsurou wasn’t around to help. “I missed you too, but are you sure you can carry all of my files with one hand?”

“Yes!” You replied confidently, showcasing your balance as you wobbled through the living room with all of your husband’s stuff. Tetsurou’s laugh echoed through the apartment as he followed you, his reflexes coming into play as he dived for a falling file. “Oops.” You giggled, helping him up after he practically hurled himself at the floor.

Tetsurou shook his head, sighing fondly while he hugged you from the back, taking comfort in the familiar smell of your hair shampoo. “I missed you.” He mumbled.

“Me too.” You hummed, reaching back to stroke your hands through his still-untamed bedhead.

“Oh, before I forget,” Tetsurou leapt up suddenly, chucking his backpack onto the ground. “I brought back something for you!”

“I already have like, twenty-five keychains from Hyogo,” You reminded him, “Please tell me it’s not a…” Your voice trailed off when Tetsurou proudly whipped his gift from his backpack, hazel eyes shining for your reaction.

“... So?” Tetsurou grinned widely, like a five-year-old child holding up his drawing for his mother to critique.

“Oh my god, I love you.” You declared in your 80 sq ft kitchen, grabbing the gift from him. “I’ll clean up your stuff, go take a bath and we can have dinner while watching the…'' You pursed your lips as you try to recall the information that kept evading you like an annoying fly. “... 15th? 16th episode of Grey’s.”

“You started that without me? I said I wanted to watch that.” Tetsurou pouted petulantly like a child.

“I finished all the other stuff I wanted to watch,” You told him unapologetically. “And Kazume wanted to watch it too. Now hurry and take a bath or I’m starting without you.”

Twenty minutes later, you were cuddled up to your husband, who did not bother to comb his hair (“It’ll just be messy later anyway,” His reasoning was). Every few seconds, he would scoop some cold mash potato out of the giant bowl (The two of you were too impatient to heat it with the microwave) and feed you. All throughout the episode, there was the constant pop-pop-pop of you working your way through the giant piece of bubble wrap Tetsurou had brought home for you.

“You know, I was thinking,” You hummed as Tetsurou pressed ‘Next Episode’. “If It were any other woman, they might have slapped you for bringing just bubble wrap home after a whole week away.”

“Well, then I’m lucky that you aren’t ‘any other woman’, am I?” Your husband smiled, pressing a gentle kiss onto your lips before picking up the mash potato bowl again. “Are we just going to have mashed potatoes for dinner?”

“I bought spicy instant noodles yesterday, we can have that later if you want.”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

[ Present, Tuesday ]

“That’s actually so sweet of him!” Your colleague coos as you finish your story. “Wish I had a husband like that…'' Even the middle-aged lady begrudgingly nods in agreement. For a moment, you feel a surge of pride— It was your husband they were talking about— Your sweet, hardworking, dork of a 6’2 bedhead.

“You wouldn’t be able to survive.” Another lady snorts. “That guy is away for weeks at a time.”

You hum. “Well, at least he calls back every night, regardless of how tired he is.” In the corner of your mind, you remember that he makes sure to call his grandmother every weekend, and that he sends his parents (and grandparents) money every month, that he visits your parents the first Sunday after he’s back from his trips— Not to mention that he always brings a gift of wellness products (The most recent one was a box of abalone).

The group of women swoon once more.

“Well, I guess we should get back to work,” You dispose of your paper cup in the trash, brushing your hands off. “See you ladies later.”

The moment you’re back at your desk, you take out your phone to text your husband, who is, no doubt, going to be very, very confused.

[ y/n ] 2.37pm

— we have a problem

[ tetsu <3 ] 2.39pm

— what’s wrong???

[ y/n ] 2.38pm

— i may have accidentally caused 20 women in my office to fall in love with you

[ tetsu <3 ] 2.38pm

— what ???

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

you know it's love when your dad comes home with this giant piece of bubble wrap and your mom literally squeals and snatches it to immediately start popping it on the couch while browsing facebook on her ipad

[chicgeekgirl89]

The House in the Pines Where the Road Ends

Fandom: 911 Lone Star

Characters: Carlos Reyes, T.K. Strand, Andrea Reyes, Gabriel Reyes, The Reyes Family

Rating: K

Summary: Four sisters. Nine nieces and nephews. Dozens of aunts, uncles, and cousins. Carlos has a big, loud, over-the-top family, and T.K. is about to meet all of them at the annual Reyes Family Barbecue. It's a day that promises food, fun, and lots of nosy questions. All T.K. wants is to make a good impression and all Carlos wants is for his family not to scare off his boyfriend. When a stray baseball ruins the fun, both T.K. and Carlos will discover that neither of them ever needed to worry.

A/N: I am so happy to FINALLY introduce you to my version of the Reyes family. They have become a character all their own and I love them very dearly. Get ready to see and hear more about them in upcoming fics! I cannot say enough thank you's to @bluenet13​ who has read this fic approximately a billion times in all its different stages, has beta'ed the heck out of it, and still wants to be friends with me.

For the @badthingshappenbingo​ prompt: Sports Injury

Read on Ao3

“Wait, but are you sure this shirt is okay?” T.K. asked, twisting around in front of the mirror to look at it from every possible angle.

“Do you really think my family is going to decide whether or not they like you based on your shirt?” Carlos asked with a laugh.

“It’s their first impression of me,” T.K. said, fussing with the hemline, trying to get it to lay exactly right. “I just want it to be good.”

Carlos came up behind him, wrapping his arms around T.K.’s waist and resting his chin on his shoulder. “They are going to love you.” He pressed a kiss to T.K.’s cheek.

T.K. turned in his arms so they were face to face, anxiety trickling through his veins. “I love you,” he said.

“I know,” Carlos told him. “I love you too.”

“Your family is important to you and I guess I can’t help feeling like…there’s a chance that if they don’t like me…”

“T.K…” Carlos sent him a look of fond exasperation.

“I know!” T.K. said quickly. “I know it’s ridiculous. But if they don’t like me, I don’t know where we go next.”

“I don’t think we need to borrow trouble like that,” Carlos said. “You already know my parents love you. And so do Elena and Elías.”

They’d had dinner at Carlos’ second eldest sister’s home a few weeks back. It had been fun to meet her and her husband along with their daughter, Carolina, and twins, Marco and Diego. Marco was rambunctious and spunky while Diego was more mild mannered and T.K. had enjoyed watching Carlos chase them around the backyard, playing baseball, tag, and wrestling.

But meeting one sister and her family was completely different from attending the annual Reyes Family Barbecue where there would be hundreds of aunts, uncles, and cousins to try and remember.

“Trust me,” Carlos said. “Elena will have spread the word and you’ll already have pre-approval before we even get there.”

“What if I call someone the wrong name?” T.K. asked. “I still think you should have written up a family tree like I asked you to.”

Carlos rolled his eyes. “There’s no point. We’re adding to it like every day there are so many of us. You’ll never be able to remember. If you’re not sure just call them Gabriel or Valentina. There’s a forty percent chance you’ll be right.”

“This isn’t fair,” T.K. said, burying his face in Carlos’ shirt. “I have like, four family members. The playing field is so uneven I don’t even have a chance.”

Carlos kissed his forehead. “Just relax and enjoy the food. That’s all anyone expects of you.”

“I seriously doubt that,” T.K. grumbled.

“Listen, if anybody should be concerned in this situation, it’s me,” Carlos said.

“You?” T.K. raised his eyebrows. “Why?”

“You just said, you come from a small family. My family is big and loud and all up in each other’s business. Francesca alone might be enough to make you run all the way back to New York.”

Carlos had talked before about his wild child fourth sister, Francesca. Apparently she was a force to be reckoned with and had caused quite a bit of trouble as a kid. According to Carlos every time he’d gotten in trouble, it had actually been Francesca’s fault. Well Francesca and Adriana, Carlos’ cousin who was more like a fifth sister. She and Francesca had been born within weeks of each other and been an inseparable duo ever since.

“New York is a pretty long way to run,” T.K. said. “And I’ve gotten kind of used to sleeping with you. I don’t really want to have to break in a new mattress. Oh, and for all I know you’ve gotten kind used to having my exercise bike in your dining room and I would have to buy a new one of those, plus moving costs are out of sight and I am on a civil servant’s salary here.”

Carlos kissed him again. “Come on. We’re already late and if we don’t get there soon then I will be in trouble.”

T.K. had already visited the Reyes family ranch a handful of times, but he had never seen it quite like this. Cars lined every inch of the drive up to the house, from pick-up trucks to mini-vans and everything in between. “Is this a family barbecue or a Lady Gaga concert?” T.K. asked as they got out of the car.

Carlos laughed and reached for his hand. “I told you.”

“Yeah I hoped maybe you were exaggerating a little bit,” T.K. said as they walked toward the driveway. As if he hadn’t been nervous already, now he felt overwhelmed. He was generally charming and good with people, but this was…a lot.

Carlos tensed. “Come this way,” he said, voice low as he tugged T.K. more to the side of the driveway, where a row of cars hid them from view of the house.

“What are we doing?” T.K. asked in confusion.

“We’re—”

“Carlitos don’t you even try! We see you over there!” a feminine voice called.

Carlos winced and looked at T.K. “I’m just going to say ahead of time that I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

Two women came around the line of cars, each of them holding a drink. “You weren’t trying to hide from us were you?” the taller of the two asked.

“No I was just trying to get T.K. inside without the third degree first,” Carlos said, giving each of them a pointed look.

“Carlitos we’re not going to give him the third degree,” the second woman said, her many earrings flashing in the sunlight. “We’re just going to try and prepare him for what he’s about to face.”

“You don’t need to prepare him,” Carlos said with a sigh of long suffering. “There’s nothing to prepare for.”

“Oh my god Carlos, you cannot just drag him in here without some proper preparation,” the first woman said, turning to look at T.K. “So, you’re the firefighter stripper, huh?”

T.K.’s eyes went wide and he looked to Carlos who had closed his eyes and was shaking his head. “For the last time, he’s a paramedic now and he has never been a stripper.” He opened his eyes and took a breath in a clear attempt to calm himself down. “T.K. I would like you to meet my sister Francesca.”

“His youngest older sister,” Francesca clarified looking T.K. up and down. “You’re hot enough to be a stripper.”

“And my cousin Adriana,” Carlos said loudly in an attempt to stop his sister’s comments. 

“It’s nice to meet you both,” T.K. said with a smile, hoping to diffuse some of the awkwardness. “Carlos has told me a lot about you.”

“Is it about how we were always getting him in trouble when he was a kid? Because that’s a lie,” Adriana said. 

“Total lie,” Francesca echoed. “So, how has it been, living in sin with my brother?”

“Oh my god Francesca can you just let us get through the door first?” Carlos cried.

She shook her head and grinned. “Nope. This is way more fun. Besides, Adriana got to know about him first, so I wanted to meet him before everyone else.”

“Did Carlos tell you not to tell Tía Maria you’re living together?” Adriana asked.

“Um, no, he didn’t mention that,” T.K. said, looking once again to his boyfriend.

“I didn’t really think it was necessary,” Carlos said.

“Tía Maria has strong religious opinions,” Francesca said.

“Oh is she not…” T.K. began to pull his hand from Carlos’ but his boyfriend held on firmly.

“Tía Maria is fine with the gay, she’s just not all right with fornication,” Adriana said with a grin, eyeing T.K. for his reaction.

“Oh my god, forget it, we’re going home,” Carlos said, trying to turn around, but Francesca grabbed his other arm.

“Nuh uh hermano,” she said sweetly. “Mom and Dad are expecting you. I already texted them and told them you’re here.”

“Wait hold on, I’m confused,” T.K. said, feeling slightly panicked as the conversation moved so quickly around him. “What do I need to know about Tía Maria?”

“Tía Maria is very against pre-marital sex,” Francesca said.

“In her mind we’re all pure, sweet, innocent little virgins, waiting to give up our virtue to our husbands on our wedding nights,” Adriana said, her face suggesting that she’d rather throw up than submit to that particular lifestyle. “Little does she know that ship has sailed.”

“Under the bleachers with Jake Thompson in the eleventh grade,” Francesca said.

“In Mike Kowalski’s backseat…”

“After prom with Sebastian Chavez…”

“Okay that’s enough of the sexcapades thank you,” Carlos said, looking disgusted.

“You didn’t think I needed to know this?” T.K. said looking at Carlos.

“I am not ashamed of us living together,” Carlos told him. “I don’t care if Tía Maria knows.”

“Ugh barf,” Francesca said. “God I wanted to be mad at you for caving and leaving us all alone at the singles table but you’re so grossly in love I don’t even want you there anymore.”

“Can we go in now?” Carlos asked. “Is this little interrogation over with?”

“Oh you can go in, but it’s far from over,” Adriana said, wrenching T.K.’s arm away from Carlos and tucking it into her own as she walked him toward the house. “So, T.K. What can we get you to drink? Beer? Margarita? Or are you a wine snob? You look like you could be a wine snob.”

“He’s from New York, they’re all wine snobs there,” Francesca said.

“T.K. doesn’t drink,” Carlos called from behind him. “You already know that.”

Adriana nodded. “Just checking. That’s cool. I did the sober thing for like six months once. My skin was so great.”

“Okay, I’m taking T.K. inside now,” Carlos said, rescuing his arm from Adriana’s grip. “You two can go back to wherever it is you came from. I’m going to guess…the gates of hell?”

“So rude Carlos,” Francesca said with a roll of her eyes.

“Come on Cesca, I need another margarita,” Adriana said, pulling her toward the back of the house.

“But I have more questions!”

“Questions later! Margarita now!”

They disappeared around the side of the house, leaving Carlos looking embarrassed and T.K. feeling like he’d just been through a whirlwind. “You can literally ignore everything about them,” Carlos said as he opened the door. “Just pretend they don’t exist. That’s what the rest of us do when they get like this.”

T.K. had a feeling neither Francesca nor Adriana liked to be ignored, but Andrea greeted them immediately as they walked inside, leaving him no opportunity for further questions or conversation. “T.K.! Carlitos! Welcome!”

There were a few other people milling around inside, but it seemed like most of the family was in the backyard. T.K. could hear music playing and the smell of barbecue wafted through the glass slider doors that led to the oversized back patio.

“Sorry we’re late Mama,” Carlos said, giving his mother a kiss on the cheek.

“It’s my fault,” T.K. said. “I had a shift and it ran over.”

“No apologies necessary,” Andrea said, waving a hand. “I understand the important work you boys do. I’m just sorry your dad couldn’t make it T.K.”

“He said to tell you hello and that he will be here for sure next time,” T.K. told her with a smile.

It had been a huge relief to find out that the party was scheduled while his dad was on shift. The last thing he needed was one more thing to give him anxiety about meeting Carlos’ family.

Andrea caught his face in both hands. “We are so glad you’re here T.K.” she said, kissing him on the cheek. “Now, let’s get you something to drink. I’ve got lots of that fancy water you like.”

The back slider opened as Andrea pulled a water from the refrigerator for T.K. “Boys! Bienvenidos!” Gabriel boomed as he stepped inside, bringing the scent of barbecue with him.

“Gabriel close that door before the air conditioning gets out,” Andrea scolded.

“Of course mi amor,” he said. “I was just looking for another set of tongs. Daniel is going to help with the second grill.”

“They’re in the pantry,” Andrea said. “Where they always are.”

Gabriel paused to kiss her on the cheek. “What would I do without you?”

“Starve?” Carlos suggested with a cheeky smile as he grabbed a grape off the counter and popped it in his mouth.

Gabriel snorted. “Probably.”

“All right now you two, head on outside and join the party,” Andrea said. “You don’t want to be stuck in here with me.”

“Are you sure?’ Carlos asked. “We can stay and help.”

“No, no,” Andrea said quickly. “Gloria will be back in a minute. Go! Enjoy! Introduce T.K. to the family.” She lowered her voice. “But don’t tell Tía Maria that you live together. You know how she gets and I do not need another lecture on how I raised my children with loose morals.”

“Yes, for everyone’s sanity, please keep that to yourselves,” Gabriel said, reappearing with the tongs in hand. “No need for my sister to know that you are breaking the commandments.”

T.K. turned and looked at his boyfriend. “Everyone seems very concerned about this.”

Carlos shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Everyone is overreacting. Tía Maria isn’t that scary.” He kissed T.K. on the side of his head and grabbed his hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you. Besides, there are so many people here, we might not even see Tía Maria.”

They stepped out the door into the backyard. To the left was a play set that dozens of children were taking advantage of. To the right were several grills, all smoking away, the tables next to them already piled high with food and drink. And underneath sprawling oak trees dozens of picnic tables and lawn chairs had been set up, all of them full of people talking, laughing, and eating together. 

“I knew you should have made that family tree for me,” T.K. said, starting to feel really nervous now as he saw exactly how many people had scattered across the backyard.

They made it about four feet before they were accosted by well meaning relatives. Cousins, aunts, uncles, everyone seemed to want to meet Carlos’ new boyfriend. T.K. smiled and nodded and tried in vain to remember everyone’s names. Carlos hadn’t been exaggerating, there were a lot of Gabriels and Valentinas.

“Ay, okay, leave the boys alone,” a woman finally said, interrupting the melée. She sported a longer version of Carlos’ curls and T.K. remembered her face from some of the family photos. “Shame on all of you, they haven’t even eaten anything.”

She turned a warm smile on them as the crowd dispersed and went back to their merriment. “Hola T.K. I’m Teresa.”

Carlos’ oldest sister. She and her husband Javier lived in San Diego with their four kids, Valentina, Eva, Gabriel, and Bianca. Their visit to town was the reason the barbecue had been scheduled for this particular weekend. 

“Nice to meet you,” T.K. said, immediately feeling the same warmth and comfort radiate from her that he did from Carlos. 

She turned and pulled her brother in for a hug, whispering something in his ear that made him laugh. “Come on. You can sit with us. I’ll fend off the nosy relatives,” she told them.

“Thank you,” Carlos said in relief. “I didn’t think it would be quite this bad.”

“You never do,” she said with a smile as she led them to the picnic table where her husband Javier was sitting with another couple that T.K. thought he recognized. 

“T.K. this is my husband Javier. And have you met Lucía and Justin yet?” Teresa asked.

Ah, Lucía. Carlos’ third oldest sister. She and Justin lived with their kids in McKinney and had driven up for the weekend. They had been set to attend the dinner with Elena and Elías but one of the boys had ended up in a soccer championship so they’d had to cancel. 

“So T.K. I hear you’re from New York? Nice to have another East Coaster join the party,” Justin said.

“Oh yeah, Carlos said you’re from Philly right?” T.K. asked.

“Born and bred,” Justin raised an eyebrow. “You don’t cheer for the Giants do you?”

T.K. smiled. “I’m more of a Mets fan actually. Football’s not really my thing.”

“Well that means I don’t have to hate you, but don’t say that too loud in Texas. Football is life here,” Justin told him.

“So I’ve noticed,” T.K. replied.

“Tío Carlos!” a gaggle of kids ran up to the table all of them clamoring for Carlos. 

“Tío Carlos I got on my soccer team at school!”

“Can you come play baseball!”

“Did you know my tooth is falling out?”

“Is that your boyfriend?”

Everyone talked at once and Carlos seemed to take it in stride, giving hugs and ruffling hair, looking at loose teeth, and promising to come and play in a minute.

“Hey, all of you, adiós,” Elena said. “Leave Tío Carlos alone. He’ll play with you later.”

It took a few more admonishments from their parents, but eventually the children dispersed to different corners of the ranch. “We’re doing you a favor T.K.,” Lucía told him, rocking baby Nicolás back and forth. “Once Carlos goes with the children he doesn’t come back.”

“He’s their favorite uncle,” Justin explained.

“And for good reason,” Javier added. “His knees are young and spry.”

“You guys are exaggerating. The kids love everybody,” Carlos said with a roll of his eyes.

Teresa shook her head. “It’s okay to admit that you’re their favorite Carlos. You’ve earned the honor.” She looked at T.K. “Carlos is too modest.”

“So I’ve noticed,” T.K. said fondly and he could see Carlos blush a little bit.

“Okay that’s enough of that,” Carlos said. “We’ve been here half an hour and no one has offered me any food. What has happened to this family?”

The situation was fixed immediately and T.K. found himself with more food than one person could possibly hope to consume, sitting and listening to the Reyes siblings recount stories from their childhood.

T.K. felt the bench next to him shift and turned to find Francesca and Adriana joining them.

“Did Carlos tell you about the time he ran away from home?” Teresa asked.

Carlos groaned. “No, do we have to tell this story every time?”

“Yes, because it’s hilarious,” Elena said. “He was what, about six at the time?”

“I was sixteen so yes,” Teresa said. “Carlitos was mad because all of us sisters got to go to a movie and he didn’t. So he wrote a note saying he was running away and never coming back.”

“And then he disappeared for seven hours,” Lucía chimed in. “Mom was beside herself. They checked the entire house, called all his friends, she was sure he’d been eaten by a coyote.”

“Well I was the one who found him,” Teresa said with a smile. “Up in that tree,” she pointed several feet to the left, “crying because he’d climbed up too high and couldn’t get down.”

“We had to call the fire department to come and get him,” Francesca said with a smirk.

“And when they got him down, did he get in trouble?” Elena asked. “Nope. Because Mama was all—“

“My baby!” all four women chorused together. 

“Carlitos never gets in trouble,” Adriana said. “Ever. All he has to do is bat his eyelashes at Tía Andrea and she starts talking about how innocent and sweet he is and how he could never start a fight or break a window…”

Carlos had put a hand to his forehead and looked like he was in physical pain. “Are you done now?” he asked.

“No way,” Lucía piped up. “We still have to tell T.K. about the time you drove the tractor into the pond.”

“The pedal was stuck!” Carlos cried.

“That’s what he says every time,” Francesca told T.K. “It’s a lie.”

Carlos burst forth in a tirade of Spanish, likely exonerating himself from the tractor-pond fiasco and all of the women immediately began to contradict him. T.K. wasn’t sure whether to smile or intervene as they all talked over each other. His high school level Spanish could only pick up the occasional word. 

“This happens every time,” Elías said. “They’ll calm down in a minute.”

“A minute?” Javier said. “Forget a minute. We can all leave, they’ll be at it for at least half an hour now.”

Things really came to a head when Francesca stood, slammed her hands against the table, and shouted, “I did not put that goat in Lucí’s bed, that was Elena!”

“I watched you do it!” Carlos yelled back.

“Well then your brain is broken because that is not what happened!” Francesca said, pointing a finger at him.

The argument was broken up by the arrival of Andrea, followed closely by another woman T.K. didn’t recognize. “Girls! Ya basta! Qué esta pasando? Arguing in front of our guests, what is wrong with you?” she said, setting a large plate of taquitos in front of them.

“Disculpa Mama,” they all muttered, but T.K. caught Francesca giving Carlos the finger under the table and then she jumped a second later when he pinched her leg.

“Honestly,” she scoffed at them. “I am ashamed of all of you. T.K. I apologize on behalf of my daughters. I did not raise them to be like this.”

“See?” Lucía said with a roll of her eyes. “We’re all in trouble, but Carlitos is completely innocent.”

“Of course he’s innocent, he would never argue in front of guests,” Andrea said. “Did you all say hello to Tía Maria?”

“Hola Tía,” they all chorused.

“And Maria, this is T.K., Carlos’ boyfriend,” Andrea said with a smile.

T.K. felt himself stiffen under the intense gaze of Carlos’ infamous aunt. But he smiled and waved a hand. “Hi, nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” she said. She turned and looked at Teresa and Javier. “Cuándo será la primera comunión de Marco y Diego?"

T.K. caught a glimpse of Francesca who smiled at him and raised her eyebrows in an “I told you so” kind of way. 

“Later this summer,” Elena said smoothly. “We will send you an invitation of course.”

“They are a bit behind, no? Why the delay in this important milestone?”

“Tía, with Covid and everything it all just got pushed back. Don’t worry,” Elena told her.

“You’d better get a move on,” Adriana said. “We wouldn’t want them to miss out on all the blessings of the Lord.”

Tía Maria’s eyes narrowed as she picked up on Adriana’s sarcasm. “Is there something wrong with wanting my nephews to grow up properly in the church?”

“Of course not,” Andrea said quickly. “And they are Maria. Very good, pious little boys.”

T.K. saw the mischievous glint in Francesca’s eye as she opened her mouth. “So T.K., you live with your dad?” 

Everyone at the table froze and turned to look daggers in her direction. “Ah Maria! The watermelon! We forgot it inside, come on,” Andrea said quickly, glaring at her daughter over her shoulder as she ushered Maria away.

“Cesca!” Teresa chastised as soon as they were out of earshot.

“I was just trying to take the pressure off of Elena,” Francesca said innocently, taking a sip of her mojito.

“You were trying to stir up trouble,” Lucía said as the baby began to fuss. 

“Well someone has to keep things fun around here!”

“Mom! Mom! Mom!” Marco and Diego ran toward them, kicking up dirt as they skidded to a stop by the table and interrupted the conversation. 

“Mom can I have another cookie?” Marco asked.

“I want a drink but Carolina said I can’t have a soda, but can I?” Diego asked.

“And Tía Teresa, Gabriel wants to know, can he get his Switch out of the car now, because he said you said he could get it later and now it’s later,” Marco spoke up on behalf of his cousin.

“Okay, hold on, everybody take a breath,” Teresa said.

The group momentarily broke up as everyone went to tend to their children’s needs and make sure they had eaten something besides cookies and chips. 

“So, are you ready to run back to New York yet?” Carlos asked when they were the only two left at the table.

“I think I’m holding my own all right,” T.K. said. “You were right about Francesca though. She’s…something.”

Carlos rolled his eyes. “Believe it or not that actually was her being on her better behavior. I swear you’d never know she was working on a masters in biochemistry.”

“She’s fun,” T.K. said. “And she and Adriana clearly have the most dirt on Carlitos.”

“Maybe we should leave now,” Carlos said with a groan. “They’ll keep at it as long as you’ll listen.”

“I like it,” T.K. said, taking a sip of his mineral water. “It’s fun seeing you like this. Baby brother Carlos is a whole new side of you.”

Carlos blushed a little bit. “The way they’d talk you’d think we were all still kids.”

“It’s sweet. They adore you.”

“I—”

Carlos was interrupted by Valentina, Teresa and Javier’s youngest, who came running over, crying so hard she was hiccuping instead of breathing. “Tío Carlos!”

“Valentina, qué pasó?” Carlos asked worriedly, gathering her into his arms and sitting her on his lap.

“Marco me dijo que no podía jugar pelota con él,” she sobbed, her little heart so clearly broken over her cousin’s refusal to let her play ball with him.

"Lo siento, Valen. That's not very nice." Carlos hugged her close and kissed her hair. "Pero no le hagas caso. What if we get you a cookie, will that help?”

She shook her head, lip stuck out in an adorable pout, fresh tears threatening to spill over.

“Two cookies?”

She held up three little fingers and Carlos opened his eyes wide in mock surprise. “Tres?! Ay Dios mío.” He shook his head. “Come with me, pero no le digas a mamá.”

He slid Valentina off his lap and offered her his hand, which she grabbed onto eagerly. He looked at T.K. “I’ll be right back.”

“Take your time,” T.K. said, watching them walk over to one of the tables. 

Carlos pointed to several different options, Valentina shaking her head at each one until he found the kind of cookie she liked best.

T.K. felt a presence next to him and turned to find Francesca had returned. She had a strange look on her face. “You know he’s never brought anyone home before. Not like this.”

T.K.’s breath caught in his chest. “I didn’t know that.”

“He’s happy,” Francesca said. “Happier than I’ve seen him in a long time.” She turned and looked at him. “You make him happy.”

“I do my best,” T.K. said. “He makes me happy too.”

“Yeah.” She looked at her brother again, adding some fruit to Valentina’s plate. “He wants kids. You know that right?”

“I do,” T.K. said. 

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re good with that?”

T.K. looked at his boyfriend who was tenderly wiping the last of the tears from Valentina’s cheeks. They had talked about it of course. A few times. In passing. He knew where Carlos stood. And he knew that he wasn’t sure what kind of dad he would be, but also that he would do anything to make Carlos happy; including facing his own fears about being a father. “He’ll be a great dad,” was his answer.

She squinted at him, then squared her shoulders. “I’m only going to say this once and if you ever tell anyone I will deny it and shove your balls so far up your ass you won’t know how to get them out again. Carlos is special. And I know you’re all city boy, New York, squeaky clean, firefighter paramedic, or whatever.”

“But if I hurt him you’ll kill me?” T.K. asked, raising his eyebrows.

“No,” she looked at him like he was crazy. “Teresa will. She’s like his second mom. She’ll take you down so fast you’ll never even see it coming.”

T.K. laughed. “I have no intention of ever breaking his heart. I promise.”

“Good,” she said. “That’s good.” She cocked her head the way Carlos did when he was about to say something he knew was funny. “You’re pretty great for a stripper.”

“Okay, one more time. Not that there is anything wrong with sex work, but I have never been, and have no intention of being, a stripper,” T.K. said firmly.

“That’s what they all say!” she tossed over her shoulder as she got to her feet and flounced away to find Adriana. 

“What was my sister telling you?” Carlos asked as he returned, Valentina now seated happily with some other cousins at a kid sized picnic table. “Oh god, was she talking about the time I got arrested for skinny dipping in the lake because there is so much more to that story than the way she tells it.”

“No,” T.K. said, raising his eyebrows, “but now I want to hear the rest of that. No she was just…being a good big sister. You’re lucky to have so many people watching out for you.”

Carlos softened, his hand seeking T.K.’s. “And now I have you too.”

T.K. squeezed gently. “Yes, you do.”

                                       XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

All in all the day was going well. T.K. had handled every nosy question, every argument, every weird thing his sisters or relatives did with his usual charm and self-confidence. He fit in. 

All Carlos had really wanted was for T.K. to like his family, but seeing them like him right back…it was doing strange things to his heart. He hadn’t known until this moment how much it meant to gain his family’s approval of his relationship. He’d convinced himself that he was fine either way, and he probably would have been. But seeing them all joke and talk and laugh together was beyond his wildest dreams. And it was making him think some pretty crazy things about the future.

They’d chatted some more with his siblings and a few other family members who’d stopped by the table. But now Lucía had gone to put the baby down for a nap, and Teresa and Elena had been pressed into kitchen duty with his mother, while the men of the group had been enticed inside by a game on TV. Which left only Adriana and Francesca at the table. 

“So, T.K., now that the boring adults are gone, tell us everything,” Francesca said, a sneaky smile on her face.

“Ooh yes,” Adriana said, getting comfortable on the picnic bench. “Tell us all your dirty secrets T.K. You lived in New York so do you actually work for the mob? And how hard was it for you to learn to put gas in a car at such an advanced age?”

“Unfortunately no mob connections, although that probably pays better than firefighting or being a paramedic,” T.K. said with a laugh. “And the learning curve on driving was actually pretty quick. We have to fuel the engines, even in New York.”

“Well that’s boring,” Francesca said as she picked up a tamale. “Come on, you have to be more exciting than that. Any secret lovers you’re keeping back there on the side?”

“Cesca!” Carlos said sharply.

“I’m watching out for you!” Francesca cried. “I mean if you two have an open relationship or something that’s your business, but if he—”

“No,” T.K. said quickly. He looked at Carlos. “There’s no one in New York. Or anywhere else.”

Adriana and Francesca both wrinkled their noses, but Carlos hardly noticed, too busy looking at T.K. who was gazing at him with so much tenderness and love. He was taking it all in stride, the insanity, the prying. Questions that might have set him off a year or two ago he now brushed off like it was no big deal.

“Ugh, come on!” Adriana said. “There has to be something. You basically grew up on the set of Gossip Girl. You have to know at least one Kardashian or something.”

“Yes, how many private helicopter rides have there been?” Francesca asked eagerly. “Or penthouse ragers? You have to have been to a penthouse rager of someone famous!”

T.K. shook his head. “Sorry to disappoint.”

Adriana pouted. “So boring. Not one secret?”

“Oh, I have secrets,” T.K. said with a grin. He laced his hand through Carlos’. “But only Carlos gets to know them.”

“You play dirty, Strand,” Francesca told him with an approving smile. 

Carlos had had enough. “Come on,” he said, pulling T.K. to his feet and away from the women without a backward glance or apology. 

“Where are we going?” T.K. asked and Carlos wished the answer was a dark corner somewhere that he could kiss his boyfriend’s face off and show him how much he appreciated his efforts today. But that would not be happening anywhere on the premises. Francesca and Adriana could sniff out a couple having a quickie from a mile away. They’d caught Teresa and Javier in a Sunday School classroom during Elena and Elías’ wedding and had never let them forget it. Although Bianca had been born nine months later so apparently getting caught hadn’t been too much of a turn off. He definitely wasn’t risking it though. 

He pulled T.K. over to the patio where the music had cranked up to an all time high now that his cousin Rafael had arrived and was playing DJ.

“Okay,” T.K. said, looking nervous all over again. “You know I can’t really dance right? That first night at the bar, that was all just to get in your pants, you know that right?”

“What?” Carlos feigned surprise and then rolled his eyes. “Yes, I know. And considering that you managed to get into my pants about half an hour later, I’d say it worked pretty well.”

“Not the point Carlos.”

“I’ve seen you dance. You’re fine,” Carlos told him.

“Yes in the club!” T.K. told him, eyes wide as he took in the way some of Carlos’ relatives were dancing around them. “This is like something out of Grease! Did you all rehearse this before you got here?”

“Look, Justin’s dancing.” Carlos nodded to where Lucí had managed to get a moment free from her children and pulled her husband onto the impromptu dance floor. 

“Justin’s been in your family for five years. He’s had practice.”

“You’re just going to follow my lead,” Carlos told him confidently as he pulled T.K. close. “Relax.”

“I can’t relax. Your Tía Maria looks like she’s about to come over here and remind us to leave room for the Holy Spirit,” T.K. hissed.

“Like I said earlier, I don’t care what Tía Maria thinks. I haven’t for a long time. I just want to dance with you.” He cocked his head and turned on his most charming smile, eyes pleading a little bit.

T.K. rolled his eyes and groaned. “You know I can’t say no to that face.”

“Exactly,” Carlos allowed himself a full on smirk.

He put one hand on T.K.’s shoulder, the other on his hip and gave a comforting little squeeze. “And now you just follow my lead.”

He took a half a step forward, slowly, not following the music at all, encouraging T.K. to step back with his opposite foot. They managed fine for about three beats until T.K. stepped wrong and they stumbled over one another’s feet. “Sorry,” he said, face going slightly pink. “I told you.”

“You’re tense,” Carlos said. “You can’t dance when you’re tense. Relax. It’s all in the hips.”

“I’m from New York. I barely have hips at all, let alone beautiful, sexy, latin caderas like yours.”

Carlos laughed and bumped up against T.K. with said caderas. “You like my caderas?”

“You know I love your hips and normally I wouldn’t complain about anything you do with them, but everyone is staring at us.”

“They are not.” Carlos took a quick glance around the area and found that indeed, many of his relatives were staring, and he could read wedding bells going off in their eyes. “Okay they are but that’s because they’re nosy, not because of your dancing. Don’t worry about them. Focus on me.”

“Just don’t blame me if I break your toes,” T.K. said nervously.

“I think I’ll survive,” Carlos told him. “I’ve never seen you like this before. I like it.”

“Like what?”

“Completely off your game,” Carlos told him. “You never approach anything with less than one hundred percent confidence and charm.”

“Well I only do things I’m one hundred percent confident in,” T.K. said. “That way I never have to look like I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Ahhh, now it all makes sense,” Carlos said with a laugh.

The music changed and Carlos shifted so that they were closer together, one hand entwined with T.K.’s, the other on his lower back. “So. Tell me the truth. How glad are you that your dad didn’t come today?”

T.K. laughed. “Oh god so glad. You know how he is. He and your sisters would have spent the entire day trying to one up each other on embarrassing stories about us. And he might have won.”

“Oh I doubt that. We’ve got about two more hours until my sisters bring up the bathtub incident.”

T.K.’s eyes widened. “The bathtub incident?”

“Let’s just say it was very expensive and mostly Francesca’s fault.”

“You know, your sisters seem to take a lot of the blame in these stories even though you have a starring role in all of them. I’m starting to wonder who’s really telling the truth here.”

“Shh,” Carlos said, pulling him a little closer. “I’m a cop. I’m very trustworthy.”

“Uh huh.” T.K. looked amused.

“Hey, guess what?”

“What?”

Carlos leaned forward so his lips were touching T.K.’s ear. “You’re dancing.”

And indeed he was, their bodies swaying back and forth, T.K. following all of Carlos’ movements without any trouble. T.K. opened his mouth to respond but he was interrupted by the reappearance of Adriana. “I take it back,” she said, causing them both to pause their movement.

“Take what back?” Carlos asked in confusion.

“There’s no way he’s a stripper. Not with dance moves like that. Yikes.”

“I don’t know whether to be relieved or insulted,” T.K. said.

“Good,” she said, giving him a mischievous wink. “I like to keep people guessing. Now step aside gringo and let us show you how it’s done.”

She grabbed Carlos’ hand and before he could protest she’d pulled him out to the center of the dance floor, yelling at Rafael to put on something they could really move to. Rafael smoothly transitioned into a song Carlos recognized and Adriana grinned as she began to salsa, clearly expecting him to partner her. He rolled his eyes, but obliged, catching her around the waist and moving back and forth in time with her.

“We approve,” she said as he spun her back and forth.

“Of my dancing?” Carlos asked.

“No, of T.K.,” she said with a smile. “We really like him. Me and all your sisters.”

It should not have warmed his soul so much to hear the words, but it did anyway. “Good,” Carlos said. “Is that why you pulled me out here? To tell me you like him?”

“No, I pulled you out here so he could check out your ass while you dance,” she said, looking over his shoulder, her grin widening. “Which he totally is by the way.”

“Adriana, shut up,” Carlos said, but he smiled anyway and dipped her, really letting loose as the music hit the chorus. Because apparently he was not above showing off for his boyfriend.

By the time the song ended he was sweating and breathless and so was Adriana. “You’ve still got it cousin,” she said. “Now go on. Go over there and take a victory lap with your boyfriend and his puppy dog eyes.”

Carlos looked over to find T.K. looking suitably impressed at the edge of the patio. Carlos shook his head, a blush rising to his cheeks as he walked over. “Well someone’s been holding out on me,” T.K. said when Carlos got close.

“It’s just dancing,” Carlos said.

“Just dancing? Carlos that looked like…I don’t even know, but it was freaking amazing!” T.K. said, his eyes wide. “I didn’t know you could dance like that. Why are you over here dancing with me?”

Carlos rolled his eyes and pulled T.K. close to him. “Trust me, Adriana might be a state champion in Salsa, but I prefer dancing with you any day.”

“She’s a state champion?” T.K. asked in surprise.

“Yep,” Carlos said, pulling him back onto the dance floor. “Three years in a row.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah, Adriana is good at pretty much anything she decides to be good at. It’s a little ridiculous.”

“That doesn’t explain where your dance moves came from,” T.K. said, looking expectant.

“I um,” Carlos thought for a half second about lying before he decided to give in and tell the truth. “I may have partnered her for a few years.”

“How long is a few?”

Carlos sighed and squeezed his eyes closed. “Like fourth through seventh grade.”

T.K.’s jaw dropped. He pointed a finger at Carlos’ chest. “I can’t believe you’ve never told me that!”

“Well it’s not like it’s relevant to everyday conversation! When would it have ever come up?”

“I don’t know!” T.K. shook his head. “What made you stop?”

Carlos shrugged. “I’m good, but I’m not championship level good. And I was getting into baseball. And Adriana is…really difficult to work with.”

“Carlos! T.K.!” They both turned to find a very welcome presence interrupting their conversation.

“Tía Luci,” Carlos said, pulling back from T.K. so he could give her a hug. “I wasn’t sure if you were coming.”

“Well you know I had a date querido. T.K. mi amor! It’s so good to see you!” The many bracelets she was wearing jangled loudly as she hugged T.K. with equal fervor. 

T.K. had been to several Sunday dinners at this point and Tía Luci had accepted him exactly the way Carlos hoped she would, with nothing less than complete and total love. She’d always encouraged Carlos to be exactly who he was and love whoever he desired. It helped of course that she’d had four husbands of her own and was currently single and dating with astonishing frequency.

“It’s good to see you too Tía Luci,” T.K. said with a smile.

“I thought mom said you had a pottery class,” Carlos said.

“I had a date at pottery class,” she said and then leaned closer. “And the clay wasn’t the only thing that got handled, if you catch my meaning.”

Carlos’ cheeks burned as T.K. laughed. His aunt was a free spirit and that meant she was pretty free with most things. Including her sex life. And while Carlos didn’t judge, he definitely didn’t always need all the…details she provided.

“Oh don’t look so scandalized,” she admonished, squeezing his arm. “It’s not like you’re a saint either, sobrino. With a boyfriend like this you must get up to all kinds of nonsense. And if you’re not you should start. You’re only young once!” Someone caught her attention and she waved. “I must go see Alejandro, but you two have fun dancing.”

“How about we run away to New York together?” Carlos asked as she floated away.

“You love her,” T.K. said knowingly.

“I do. But I don’t need to know every detail of her dating life. And no matter how many times I tell her that she doesn’t quite seem to get the message.”

“Seems like Francesca and Adriana come by it honestly,” T.K. said. “Oversharing runs in the gene pool.”

“Yes along with nosiness, a strong desire to meddle, and a life long obsession with the Astros,” Carlos said with a roll of his eyes.

“And yet somehow you have none of those qualities,” T.K. said, raising his eyebrows in a way that suggested he was being sarcastic.

“Me?” Carlos said. “What are you talking about? I don’t do any of those things.”

“Maybe not so overtly. But when you found out Mateo’s house had blown up, you organized all those donations to help out him and his roommates.”

“Because it was the right thing to do!”

“Of course it was. But it was also meddling. Kind meddling. But meddling. And we’ve talked about the cow eyes.”

“What do the cow eyes have to do with anything?” Carlos asked, slightly annoyed.

“When you want to know something that I don’t want to share, you waste no time turning them on. And you know that neither I, nor anyone else can resist. Nosiness.”

“That’s not nosy! It’s…digging for information.”

“Information your chosen suspect may or may not want to share. The suspect being me. Admit it Carlos. You’re more like your family than you’d like to believe.”

“I—“ Carlos struggled to come up with a reply. “I don’t like that you’re siding with my sisters. That was not the point of bringing you here. You’re supposed to back me up.”

“Oh I will never speak to your sisters about this,” T.K. told him. “I’ve got your back. I just want you to know that I know.”

Carlos opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by a small body hurtling into his legs so hard he almost fell over. “Tío Carlos!” Marco practically yelled. “You said you would come in an hour. It’s been more than an hour. Will you pleeeeeeeeeeeease come throw the ball with me? You promised!”

Carlos looked a T.K. who smiled and nodded toward Marco. “Go ahead. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not sure I want to leave you alone with my sisters after what you just said. I’m scared about what other things they might put into your head.”

T.K. laughed and gave him a little push. “Go. I’ll try not to be swayed further to their side.”

“You heard him! Go! Go!” Marco pushed Carlos from behind over toward the grassy area past the picnic tables.

“Marco, Marco, relax,” Carlos said, breaking away from his nephew’s aggressive pushing. 

“I waited all day,” Marco told him with a glare.

“And you’re going to wait longer if you’re not polite,” Carlos told him.

Marco looked only slightly chastened. “Sorry.”

“Mhmm.” Carlos tried not to roll his eyes. “Do you have a ball and a glove?”

“Yes!” Marco ran ahead and grabbed them off a picnic table. “Here. This one’s yours. Abuelo got it out of the garage for me.”

Sure enough it was Carlos’ high school mitt. It was beyond worn out, but it would do for a quick round of catch before he rescued his boyfriend from the clutches of whichever sister had decided to grill him next. 

“Okay you go over there and I’ll go over here,” Marco said excitedly, running several yards away, ball clutched in his hand.

His first throw took Carlos by surprise. “Whoa! You’re getting really good at that,” Carlos said as he tossed it back.

“Dad says I might make the travel team this year,” Marco said excitedly as he delivered another throw that made Carlos’ palm sting.

“Yeah I think you’ve got a good shot at it,” Carlos told him. “How’s your fast ball?”

“So good! But I have to work on my curve ball. It doesn’t always go the right way.”

“Ah, I’ve got a trick for that. Let me show you.”

It didn’t take long for all of Carlos’ nieces and nephews to realize he had left the adult table and was available for fun. After he finished with Marco, a game of tag was requested by his other nephews. Then Bianca and Elena wanted to show him the crafts they’d been working on and make him a friendship bracelet which he immediately put around his wrist. 

Nearly an hour had gone by and Carlos began to look around for his boyfriend, feeling guilty for having left him alone for so long. But just as he began making his way back to the picnic tables, Carolina found him and wanted to tell him all about a school project she’d finished recently.

One minute he was chatting with her about orca whales and the next something was colliding with his skull, hard and fast. He felt his head snap to the side, fingers automatically going to touch the spot directly behind his ear.

Carolina had frozen her eyes wide. “Tío Carlos? Estás bien?” she asked tentatively.

The world seemed to tilt and he sank down slowly onto a picnic bench, fingers fumbling against the weathered wood as he tried to aim successfully and not miss and fall to the ground instead. “Sorry!” Marco called, running over. 

Oh. The baseball. That’s what had hit him. That explained the extreme throbbing that had started and why he could already feel a knot growing at the site of impact.

“You hit Tío Carlos right in the head!” Carolina scolded.

“I didn’t mean to!” Marco protested back. “I just threw it, that’s all! I was working on my curveball! It wasn’t my fault!”

“It’s nobody’s fault,” Carlos said calmly, even though his vision was starting to blur at the corners. “It was an accident.”

“See? It’s fine!” Marco told her. 

“I’m telling Mom!”

“No you’re not!”

The two continued to squabble and Carlos closed his eyes as their raised voices cut through his skull like a knife. “Carolina,” he interrupted finally. “Can you go find T.K. for me? Tell him I need to ask him something.”

“Yeah.” She narrowed her eyes at Marco. “I’m still telling mom,” she hissed, causing him to take off after her as she ran away.

Carlos swallowed against the sudden queasiness in his stomach. He was regretting the number of tamales he’d eaten now.

The sunlight was really starting to hammer into his skull so he closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing through his nose, trying to keep his stomach from becoming violent. A hand on his knee startled him. “Carlos?” T.K.’s voice was quiet and concerned. 

Carlos opened his eyes and found his boyfriend or rather, several blurry versions of his boyfriend, looking up at him. “Hey,” he said quietly. Even talking seemed to hurt his rattled brain.

“Are you okay? Carolina said something about a baseball.”

“It was an accident,” Carlos said. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Okay,” T.K. said slowly, clearly trying to gauge the situation and read between the lines of what his boyfriend wasn’t telling him. “Where did it hit you?”

Carlos took another slow breath in through his nose as his stomach clenched. “Behind my ear.”

“Which side, this side?” T.K. asked, lifting a hand and gently probing at Carlos’s skull.

His fingers found the knot almost immediately and even though his touch was gentle it sent a stab of pain shooting through Carlos and his stomach lurched. He jerked away, unsuccessful in suppressing a tight lipped moan.

“Okay, hey I need you to talk to me, all right?” T.K. said, his voice going serious as his fingers instinctively sought the pulse point on Carlos’ wrist. “How bad is your pain?”

Carlos had had concussions before; you couldn’t play varsity baseball without the occasional injury. This was ten times worse than he remembered. “Like a seven?” His voice was shaky and opening his mouth at all felt like a huge risk given the discontent happening in his stomach. “And there are about four of you right now.”

“Did you lose consciousness?”

“No.”

“Can you tell me your name?”

Carlos squinted at him. “Are you really asking me that?”

“Answer please,” T.K. said, eyes serious.

“Carlos Nicolás Reyes Moreno.”

“And where are we?” 

“My parents’ ranch.”

“Good. And what’s your badge number?”

Carlos opened his mouth and found his mind strangely blank. “I—”

“You can’t remember?” T.K. asked.

“I—no.” He felt panic start to well up in his throat. “T.K…”

“It’s okay,” T.K. said calmly, gently cupping the non-injured side of his face. “You’re going to be all right. But we need to go to the hospital, okay?”

“Oh god,” Carlos groaned partly from pain and queasiness and partly from panic. “Any chance we can sneak out of here without telling my family?”

“Oh, babe, I think that ship has sailed,” T.K. said sympathetically.

“Carlitos? What happened?” Andrea approached at a rapid pace, the Reyes sisters flanking her along with Adriana, Tía Maria, and Tía Luci. He was sure his father wasn’t far behind.

Even as pain clawed at the inside of his skull Carlos tried to assuage their fears. “I’m fine, just a little accident,” he managed.

“Carolina said Marco hit you in the head,” Elena said worriedly. 

“Head injuries are very serious,” Tía Luci told them. “I once dated a tennis player who got a concussion.”

“He got hit with a tennis ball?” Elena asked.

“No, we got a little overly enthusiastic in the bedroom. No half assed sex from that one!”

Carlos heard Tía Maria start muttering a prayer.

“Andrea! What’s going on? Is he all right?” Predictably Gabriel had caught up with the group, a large grill spatula still in his hand.

“Let’s just give him a little room to breathe,” T.K. said calmly, holding up a hand to keep them from coming in closer to smother him with concern. “Francesca if you could go get me some ice and a towel please.”

She disappeared in an instant toward the back of the house.

“Should we call an ambulance?” Teresa asked.

“I am fine,” Carlos insisted again, squeezing his eyes closed as another wave of nausea and dizziness swept over him. He would be. As soon as he was away from his coddling family and in his bed at home.

“Carlitos you be quiet and listen to your boyfriend. He is a professional,” Andrea scolded, worry coloring the sharpness of her tone.

“Yes, T.K., what does he need?” Gabriel asked.

“We’re going to get some ice on here and go from there,” T.K. said. “I don’t think an ambulance is necessary at this point.”

Francesca returned with ice and a towel. “Thank you,” T.K. said, wrapping the ice up tightly and then ever so gently pressing it against Carlos’ head.

He hissed in pain, knuckles gripping the edge of the picnic bench so hard he felt splinters of wood begin to dig into his fingertips. “I’m sorry,” T.K. murmured sympathetically. “We need to try and get the swelling down.”

“It’s okay,” Carlos said through gritted teeth. He hadn’t thought it was possible for his head to hurt more, but the added coldness of the ice was proving to be too much and he felt the tight hold he had on his composure starting to slip. He wanted to leave, he wanted to lie down and sleep, he wanted T.K. to hold him while he cried like a baby because everything hurt like a motherfucker and he was embarrassed as hell about it. 

His family was still carrying on around him, he could hear them asking questions and making plans, but all he focused on was T.K.’s free hand, the one that wasn’t pressing ice to his skull. That hand was resting comfortingly on his knee, thumb moving slowly back and forth. Thank god T.K. was here to mitigate the chaos.

He didn’t realize he was starting to drift away until T.K.��s hand squeezed his knee more tightly and then moved up to his shoulder, keeping him upright. “Hey, hey, no, don’t go to sleep,” he said urgently.

Right. Sleep was not a good idea. Carlos forced his eyes open and tried to focus on his boyfriend’s worried face, but it swam in front of him and made his stomach churn. “T.K…”

“I’ve got you,” T.K. said firmly. He turned and looked up at Andrea and Gabriel who had come to hover a little closer. “We need to get him to the hospital.”

“I’ll drive you,” Andrea said immediately.

“You’re entertaining all these guests mi amor,” Gabriel said. “You stay, I’ll take the boys.”

“We’re all coming,” Lucía said immediately.

Carlos felt his heart rate quicken at the thought of his entire family standing around in the hospital waiting room and the kind of chaos that would cause. He didn’t need to worry though. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” T.K. said quickly. “There’s no reason to believe this is anything more serious than a concussion. It will be quick, not worth everyone coming out.”

“I will update you the entire time,” Gabriel promised.

“Text messages every five minutes,” Andrea ordered.

“Can you stand?” T.K. asked and Carlos nodded his affirmative, immediately regretting the motion when the throbbing in his skull increased.

T.K. took his arm and Carlos got up on wobbly legs. He made it about two steps before his knees began to give out and he felt his father grab his other arm. “Steady mijo,” Gabriel said.

It seemed like an eternity before they passed through the house and into the front driveway. Out of sight of his family Carlos felt the last of his control slip away. The blood drained from his face and he gagged. 

“Whoa!” T.K. said, quickly lowering him to the ground as he began to heave out the contents of his stomach onto the concrete.

By the time it was over Carlos’ pain had ratcheted up to somewhere in the nines and he heard himself letting out a pathetic whimper as his brain exploded inside of his skull. “Easy Carlitos, easy,” his father said, the words barely registering as he and T.K. lifted Carlos back onto his feet and basically carried him the rest of the way to his dad’s truck.

He ended up with his head in T.K.’s lap, his boyfriend continuing to hold ice against his head with one hand, while the other ran soothingly up and down his arm. “Stay awake for me, all right?” he said.

“Trying,” Carlos said, his voice sounding cracked and broken. Mostly he was trying to breathe because he really didn’t want to throw up again. Every bump in the road, every touch of the breaks, sent pain ricocheting through his head. “It really hurts.”

“I know, I’m so sorry. We’re almost there,” T.K. said softly. “You’re all right, keep breathing, okay?”

Gabriel pulled directly up to the ER doors and he and T.K. helped Carlos into a wheelchair. If he’d been in any less pain he would have found the entire thing humiliating, but every bit of his energy was currently being spent on staying awake and not vomiting all over the floor.

“I’ll park the car and meet you inside,” Gabriel said as T.K. pushed him through the doors.

The next few hours were a hellish blur. They ran a battery of tests including an MRI and a CT scan, asked him dozens of questions, all of which he was able to answer thank god.

Despite his best efforts, he threw up twice more, T.K. holding a basin in front of his face each time, then rubbing his back comfortingly as he curled into a ball, knives stabbing through his head after such violent movement.

He hated being reduced to a shaking, moaning mess, especially in front of his father, but there was no help for it. The pain was only growing worse and there was no relief in sight, not until the tests came back.

“Breathe,” T.K. said, running a thumb back and forth over Carlos’ hand. “Carlos you have to breathe and try to relax.”

“I can’t.” The words came out on a whimper. “It hurts.”

“Carlitos, you have to try,” his dad said, sounding beyond concerned. “The more tense you are the worse it will feel.”

Tears slid down his cheeks as the pounding in his head beat on relentlessly. It had been hours and there was never any relief to the waves of pain, just a constant throbbing, knifelike agony. He squeezed his eyes shut and curled in on himself, ragged, stuttering breaths tearing from his chest.

“I’m going to go find the nurse,” Gabriel said. “My wife and daughters might be better at nagging, but I’m sure I’ve picked up a thing or two.”

He disappeared out the door and the next thing Carlos knew the bed was shifting as T.K. climbed in with him, wrapping his arms tightly around Carlos’ body. “What are you doing?” Carlos choked out.

“Taking care of you,” he said, his lips by Carlos’ ear. “You’re okay. I’ve got you. Breathe. Just a little bit longer and we’ll get you some medication. I promise.”

T.K.’s fingers stroked up and down his arm and he continued to murmur soothing words into Carlos’ ear. Carlos felt his muscles slowly begin to unclench one at a time. The agony in his skull began to ease, just enough that he could breathe easier and think a little more clearly.

His dad must have given someone a piece of his mind because within fifteen minutes the doctor had returned. “Okay, Mr. Reyes we are looking at a grade two concussion here. All your scans came back clear so while painful, your recovery should be pretty easy.”

“No brain bleed?” T.K. asked.

“No. No brain bleed, no skull fracture.”

He could see T.K. and his father sag in relief. They were both putting on a good front, trying to be strong for him, but in that moment the worry in the room finally lifted off like a cloud, dissipating into calm.

“We’re going to keep you for a little bit, start you on some strong Tylenol to help manage the pain. I’ll come check on you in an hour okay?”

It was another two hours before they were finally able to go home, Gabriel dropping them off with promises to bring Carlos’ car over in the morning.

He was more steady on his feet now and the medication had helped both his headache and the nausea, so with T.K.’s help he was able to manage the stairs without too much difficulty.

T.K. sat him on the bed and began undoing the buttons on his shirt. “I can do it,” Carlos said, but his boyfriend gave him a stern look and continued. 

This behavior persisted until Carlos was settled in bed, an extra pillow behind his head, a glass of water on the nightstand along with additional Tylenol. “Better?” T.K. asked as Carlos leaned back against the pillows with a sigh.

“Yeah,” Carlos told him. The lights were dim, causing his splitting headache to dull to a throbbing one instead. 

He heard his phone buzz for the thousandth time in the last few hours. “Do you want to see who that is?”

He couldn’t look at the screen without feeling like someone had stabbed a knife through his eyes. Hopefully that would pass quickly. It was only a grade two concussion and most of his pain was coming from the actual injury itself, not his brain rattling around in his skull.

T.K. punched in Carlos’ passcode and then scrolled through. “You have forty seven unread texts. Most of them are from your sisters. A few from your mom and aunts. And one reminding you to vote next week.”

Carlos groaned. “You’d think I was dying. This isn’t even as bad as the time Elías flipped the four wheeler over while we were on vacation. He broke his leg in two places and had to have surgery and nobody was all over him.”

“Oh, the texts aren’t about you,” T.K. said, eyes lighting up with mirth.

Carlos squinted at him. “I’m confused then.”

T.K. cleared his throat. “You listen to T.K. and do what he says. That one is from Teresa.” He scrolled a little further. “Congratulations on picking someone who’s not a dick. He actually comes in handy, that’s Adriana.” He snorted. “And this one from Francesca just says, ‘Remember not to fuck again until your brain is better.’”

“You know, Tía Maria campaigned pretty hard to send her to a convent when she was a teenager. Some days I think we should have let her,” Carlos said.

“The rest are variations on how great I am and how you need to eat a lot of soup and get a lot of rest. And I have a text from your mom.”

Carlos cracked one eye to look at him. “Are you going to share?”

“Mm…I’m not sure you can handle this one.”

T.K. was grinning from ear to ear, clearly beyond proud of himself and delighted to have information Carlos didn’t. 

“T.K. just read it. I can see that smug look on your face.”

He cleared his throat. “T.K. thank you for taking care of our Carlitos. You are such a blessing to our family.” T.K. grinned. “They like me.”

“Of course they like you.”

“They really like me.”

“Yes, T.K. My family loves you. Just like I always knew they would.”

“Well I appreciate that. But you really didn’t have to get hit in the head with a baseball just so I could endear them to me with my paramedic skills.”

“Don’t thank me, thank Marco,” Carlos said. “He’s the one with an arm like a Major League baseball player.”

“Yeah he can really throw huh?” T.K. said, brushing a gentle hand through Carlo’s curls, careful to avoid the area the ball had struck. “How’s your pain?”

“Tolerable,” Carlos said. 

“And the nausea?”

“Better,” Carlos said. 

“Good.” T.K. seemed relieved. “Listen, next time you want to get out of a family activity, you can just tell me. You don’t need to give yourself a grade two concussion. Just say the word and I will fake an emergency and get us out of there.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t fake an emergency after hour one,” Carlos said. “Thank you for today. You getting along with my family it…” Tears threatened to close his throat and he forced them back because he really wanted T.K. to know what he was feeling. “It means everything.”

“They’re easy to get along with,” T.K. said. “And we have a lot in common.”

“Oh?”

“We all love you.”

[emmakillianfan]

A Christmas Story for You

To @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ for Christmas. While I haven’t had as much time for it as I had hoped, I hope you are having a wonderful Christmas and enjoy this little story that kind of got away from me. Merry Christmas and a very happy new year to you!

Due to illness and post graduate studies I’m a bit rusty on the fanfiction story writing, but I hope you enjoy it. I have loved the opportunity to be your secret santa. As I said from the beginning, I’m a big fan of your writing.

Getting to Know You at Christmas

Emma Swan hated to mingle at these social events her parents held each year as a welcome to the holiday season. Her mother easily socialized with people, remembering names and details of each person’s life in the coastal town of Storybrooke, Maine. Her father was just as gregarious, shaking hands and clapping older gentlemen on the back as the mused over details of long-ago exchanges and funny occurrences that she never quite could understand. She liked people, even had friends. But there was something missing for her from the conversations and laughter that seemed to lift over the swell of Christmas carols and the flashes of lights from the tree and cameras snapping shots of huddled groups of friends, family, and compatriots.

“Your mother is worried about you,” Ruby Lucas-Gale said with a knowing smile as Emma reached for another mini pizza and shoved it in whole. “You don’t look happy.”

Keeping her lips sealed, Emma shot her friend a plastered smile and shrug.

“You could at least move away from the bar. She’s going to think this is a re-do of last year’s party where you went to bed with a bottle of tequila under each arm after telling everyone that you were sleeping until the new year.”

“I should have kept that promise,” Emma groused, giving a slight wave when her mother looked at her pleadingly. “I could have avoided the Christmas Karaoke party at Victor’s, the cookie exchange at your grandmother’s, and let’s not forget the pot luck at Regina and Robin’s where I was shamed for bringing your grandmother’s frozen lasagna as my contribution. Not only had Regina made one, but I didn’t even realize it was still frozen.”

“You brought a pie too,” Ruby reminded her. “I don’t remember anyone noting that was store bought.”

“I ate it in the car working up the nerve to go inside because my mother set me up on a date. Who does that? Blind dates on Christmas?”

“She means well,” Ruby added consolingly, patting her hands down her red dress that seemed to creep up her toned thighs each time she moved. “And Graham was…”

Emma held up one hand in protest. “Don’t defend him. First he was your ex. He was nice but a little or more than a little too intense with his whole getting back to nature and communing with animals thing. My mother has horrible taste in men for me. For a woman who believes in fairy tales and calls my father her prince charming, I don’t think she would survive a day on Tinder.” It had been the long running commentary at the parties that somewhere in the crowd was there to be set up with Emma. Some who did not partake in the dancing or singing along around the piano would try to guess who it was going to be this year. Bets were currently on about a gawky man with a green tie who was currently chatting up Zelena Mills in the corner.

“Just remember she means well.” Linking arms with Emma, Ruby pulled her friend out onto the makeshift dance floor and began to sway her hips to the beat of a modern Christmas tune that Emma knew was by some current pop singer. “So I’m guessing your next date is in here somewhere. Where oh where could he be?”

“You are annoying,” Emma pouted, folding her arms over her chest yet still swaying a bit to the up-tempo beat. “I thought you had money that guy in the green tie.” He was the typical type her mother would love to see her date. She could hear the school teacher turned public servant now telling her how she just knew he was the kind of guy she would love to get to know.

“Possibility,” Ruby said, tapping her bright red lips in mock thoughtfulness. “What about Archie?” He’s been hanging around over in that corner in a conversation with Regina and Robin for a little bit now. Seems to look over here every once in a while.”

“Everyone is looking at you, Ruby,” Emma hissed in exasperation. You are showing more skin that is advisable with the temperature and you’re currently bumping and grinding to Christmas tunes.”

“Maybe he’s setting up some pre-marital counseling for them. Okay…one of the guys from the mines? Leroy?”

“That’s a tad incestuous since they are practically my uncles.” Emma scanned the crowd to see her father and mother in conversation over by the French doors leading out to the patio that had been sprayed with twinkle lights and that included a new audio system he had spent the day fiddling with as her younger brother tried out the microphones in his own rendition of some sort of heavy metal meets classic rock rendition of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. He was just 14 and still at that awkward stage, suffering the embarrassment of parents who doted and friends who loved to point that out to him. Her own son idolized him though. “I’m thinking he’s a no show. My mom is in her plotting mode. Look at the way she’s talking to my dad.”

Sure enough her parents were furtively whispering, her mother holding up a hand to hide her mouth as though nobody would notice. It would be debated for years to come which of the two women noticed him first though. A slender, tall man with piercing blue eyes and sardonic smile seemed to rush up to her parents and hug them in turn. Even though Emma couldn’t make out the words, her father gave the man his double shoulder clap before spinning him about to the crowd and pointing out a few people.

“Maybe him,” Ruby said, lifting onto the balls of her feet even higher than her shoes allowed and balancing herself against Emma. “He’s a hottie.”

“Doubtful,” Emma noted, swinging her gaze across the room to the man in the green tie who was now eating a banana and doing nothing for his resemblance to a simian creature as Ruby had declared. “I don’t have that sort of luck. My mother doesn’t…” She never got to finish the sentence when she noted who had just entered the party and made a line straight toward greeting her parents. Neal…the once love of her life turned affection into weapons and her self confidence into a puddle of what if. She was better now, but the sight of him seemed to jangle her nerves in a way that made her doubt her recovery. They managed to co-parent their son with little trouble, but he wasn’t one she wanted to see socially. The fact he always had a date on his arm just added to her discomfort.

Ruby was one of the few people who understood. Twirling her in the direction of the mystery man who was now noshing on a few of the crisp veggies without bothering to dip them into the various sauces, Ruby leaned in and whispered loudly in Emma’s ear. “Don’t question it. Just go introduce yourself. It’ll be less awkward that way.”

Emma would forever question the logic in that, but for the moment felt her feet begin to move one after the other and in no time she was standing in front of him. His eyes were even more striking up close and she caught a whiff of his cologne that was a spicey scent that she would later blame for her mouth watering and her words feeling like they slid off her tongue without regard to custom or reason.

“Emma,” she said by way of invitation. Her smile was a little forced and her hand held out in mid air a beat too long as he shoved a celery stick in his mouth and raised his own in greeting. “I guess my parents probably told you that.”

“Your parents?” he repeated, the smiled he was giving her lifted higher on the right side of his face as did his right eyebrow. He seemed to be surprised by her, almost as if he was not expecting the conversation. That irritated her a bit.

She gave a wave over her shoulder to where they stood by the fireplace. “Mary Margaret and David. The Nolans. You were just talking to them.”

“Aye, David and my older brother went to school together back in the day. They invited me to…”

She brushed off his explanation. “No, I get it. It’s so them. They don’t think I have any skills in that area at all. Apparently, they have given up on finding someone local.” She shrugged and when he seemed he wasn’t going to answer, she reached across and grabbed a carrot stick. Placing it in her mouth she made a face and immediately removed it. “Rabbit food.”

“You do know how to flatter man, love. I’m not sure I would want to be just one of the multitudes.” His smile was wider as he watched her, his questions about her easy and slick as she tried to explain that her parents were young when she was born and waited nearly two decades before their miracle child was born. He seemed to know nothing about her, which was odd for a set up. Maybe he was just being polite.

“So you’re not from around here,” she asked when he paused to take a drink. Even over the rim of the cup his eyebrows raised again. “I’m the sheriff. I sort of notice things like accents. I do sort of like accents like yours. Different than other guys around here.”

“Boston by way of London,” Killian answered. “And you, love? Always a resident of this seafaring town?”

“Most all my life,” she admitted, leaving out a few pit stops along the way. “Mom probably told you that the best place to take me for a dinner date is Granny’s. She loves it there, plus Granny will spy on us and give her updates every few minutes. I’m more into this Italian place near the docks. Awesome seafood and pasta. And their lasagna isn’t frozen. It’s more date like, I think. You know, checked table clothes, drippy candles, wine, and all that.”

“A classic romantic?” he asked, clearly amused.

“Well, I mean if we have to go out, it makes sense to go someplace like that.” She held out her hand and gestured to his phone. “I’ll give you my number in case mom hasn’t already. A date is a date, but might as well get a good meal out of it.”

“By all means,” he said, handing her the latest device on the market. She noted that he did everything with his right hand, his left staying next to his side and covered in a black glove. She was about to mention it when she heard her father’s voice and laughter.

“You’ve met our Emma,” David said, joining the duo at the table and placing one hand under Emma’s elbow. “Our daughter can be a bit blunt. I hope she hasn’t insulted you or made you change your mind.”

“Dad,” Emma said, swatting him playfully.

“She’s been absolutely brilliant,” Killian answered, shoving his phone in his pocket. “By the way, love, name’s Killian Jones. I don’t believe I properly introduced myself.”

David nodded knowingly. “Killian is here to work with your mother on her bid for the mayor’s office. He’s a wiz when it comes to all things in local politics. Very highly recommended.”

“Work for mom?” Emma asked weakly, trying to ignore the not quite so humble smile that played about Killian’s mouth. “You mean he’s not…”

“Of course, Regina is taking time off to plan her wedding and then get settled into married life. She recommended Killian to run your mom’s campaign since Archie is considering and Mal has already announced. Anyway, it is good you met. Killian’s going to need to talk to you about your role in promoting our family. Maybe you can meet up at Granny’s later this week.” David glanced around the room and gripped his daughter’s arm harder. “I wanted to introduce you to someone I met when I was buying supplies for the farm. His name is Walsh.”

Emma stammered a bit, her face turning pink as Killian continued to hold that smile that showed both bemusement and cockiness. “Walsh…”

“Go ahead, love,” Killian said. “We’ll finish our conversation at this Granny’s or perhaps you might like the atmosphere.”

Emma was sure that her face was bright red as his eyebrows lifted up and down in a way that made her wonder just what lascivious thoughts were rolling around in that head of his. She felt those blue eyes on her as her father made another excuse and led her over to the man in the green tie who was smiling nervously at her and oblivious to her discomfort and not so secret looks over at Killian Jones.

She nodded appropriately and even asked a few questions about Walsh and his furniture design business. Her own rental was outfitted with castoffs and hand me downs that had seemed comfortable and worn at the time. He was telling her why it was important to have pieces that spoke of her uniqueness and character. At least that was what she heard on the occasions she bothered to listen and didn’t internalize the flinches and groans as her parents introduced Killian Jones to every person in the room. She wasn’t pleased to see most of the single women giggling and flashing him flirtatious smiles that he easily returned. There was no need to be jealous, but still the emotion was creeping up her spine as she watched him actually kiss Ruby’s hand like something out of a novel.

“I could show you sometime,” Walsh interrupted. She jumped at being caught unaware and repeated the words back to him in hopes of making some sense of the situation. “My shop. I have some really beautiful pieces I think you would like.”

“Well, if I am ever in the market,” she said, realizing that he was holding out a business card with his personal number written on the back. “Have you met August and his father Marco. They do some of the most beautiful woodwork you have ever seen. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~

“We were right about the monkey guy,” Ruby said defeatedly, kicking off her shoes and reclining on the bed in Emma’s childhood bedroom. The room didn’t quite do justice to the angsty teen she had been, but still boasted teen idol posters of boy bands and even the dollhouse brought by Santa one year. “But that other guy was cute and quite the charmer. Even I was about to hit on him. I had such high hopes for your mother.”

Emma flinched as she unclipped her hair and left it to fall around her shoulders in soft waves. “Yeah, so he’s not my set up of the year. Yet I asked him out, sort of. I don’t know. I made a fool out of myself.”

“He didn’t seem too offended,” Ruby suggested. “I mean I was distracted once Dorothy agreed to dance but every time I looked in his direction he was looking in yours. And I might add that was pretty often.”

“Right, he was probably trying to figure out what was wrong with me.” Emma was about to bemoan her embarrassed state a little more when her phone dinged out one and then another text message. She reached over to grab it and groaned with the realization. It was Killian. Ruby immediately wanted to know what he had to say and proceeded to inspect the picture he sent just in case Emma was confused if he was the guy in the green tie or not.

“Emma, you might have had a rough start, but he’s hot. And he’s clearly interested. Why else would he text?” Passing the phone back, she shrugged. “And let’s face it, you and commitment aren’t that strong of allies. He’s from out of town. Mary Margaret said he travels all over to do these little campaigns. I’m seeing excellent fling material.”

The text was taunting her, a coy comment about Italian restaurants and then a reminder of who he was with the picture. “I should answer him. I mean it would be rude not to answer, right?”

“Your mother would say not to be rude to anyone, but I’m telling you there is no reason to be rude to that guy.” Ruby reached over and grabbed a 10 year old magazine from the table, clearly bored with the conversation. “But I mean it is up to you. Text him. Don’t text him. Your choice.” Ruby flipped the pages casually, bringing up what dresses Regina was going to want them to wear at her wedding. She insisted that red wouldn’t be that garish at a Christmas event. It wasn’t until Emma refused to correct her that Ruby even looked over cautiously. “You haven’t texted him?”

“I was thinking about it.”

“You like him, don’t you?” Ruby propped herself onto one elbow. “It’s written all over your face.”

Emma shoved the phone back in her bag and let her head loll against the mattress as she sat cross legged on the floor. She rarely was in this room now, but somehow it felt comfortable and almost nostalgic to discuss dating and boys with her friend just down the hall from her parents. At least she wasn’t practicing writing his name with hers or anything like that. “I don’t get crushes.”

“You’re much too tough for that.”

Emma wasn’t exactly wrong about her aversion to crushes. She was in her twenties and already sheriff of the small coastal town. She wore practical boots or sneakers more than heels and her long hair had not seen princess curls in months. This event at her parents was the first time she’d worn a dress except to church. “If I did, and I’m not saying I do, what difference does it make. I’m a grown woman, mother of a 10 year old, and I have a career. I’m hardly going to make cootie catchers and see if his name comes up after saying some horrible rhyme.”

Ruby nodded thoughtfully and went back to the magazine. “Not to mention horribly ugly and boring. I don’t know how I put up with you.”

“You are going to pay for that one, Ruby,” Emma laughed, tossing a pillow and joining in as Ruby cackled with laughter. They were both laughing so hard that Emma barely heard the familiar chirp of her phone ringing. Holding up a hand to silence her friend, she shushed her and reached for it. She only hoped she sounded less winded than she felt as she said her own name and waited for the response.

“I hope I didn’t call to late,” a male English accent sounded on the other end. Even without seeing him in person, she could already picture that bemused smirk and light in his eyes. “I meant to check back with you, love, but time got away from me and then you were gone.”

“Oh um…good…I mean great…I mean you didn’t call too late,” Emma gestured wildly at her friend who was making choking signs in response to her word vomit. “But why did you call?”

“Well, love, you did give me your number,” he reminded her. “I tried texting, but didn’t get a response. I thought perhaps you were screening, but I had to give it a shot. I was hoping you might have a bit of time for me tomorrow – breakfast perhaps? I know you said you preferred that little Italian place, but I have never known such an establishment to be open very early. Perhaps that Granny’s, you spoke of? We could save the Italian place for our dinner date. I have been craving some ravioli lately.”

“Date?” Emma stammered, ignoring the way that Ruby looked ready to pounce. “I…”

“You did sort of ask me out and I must say it was a masterful way to do so. I would love to accompany you for dinner, Emma. But first we have a bit of business to discuss about your mother’s campaign. Breakfast then? 8 a.m.? Granny’s?”

“I’ll be there,” she answered dully as he spoke politely for a moment about thanking her for her time.

~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~

Emma’s father had not gotten the memo that she was going out for breakfast, as he was flipping pancakes onto a large plate as she descended the stairs, handed her son his permission slip for the field trip, and dodged the family’s collie that seemed to be underfoot. Her mother showed no signs of worry as she sipped her morning coffee and reminded Emma to wear a scarf and hat as she consoled her husband that there were not too many pancakes and Emma wouldn’t have eaten them all anyway.

She pulled her yellow bug up in front of the diner, taking the last of the spots at 8:05 a.m. That was early for her and not a big worry that she was late for meeting with Killian. That was until she walked in, kicked a bit of the snow off her boots (the black ones with a heel that were in her old closet and could not be described as practical – don’t judge), and spied Killian at one of the booths talking to Tink. The bubbly blonde was petite and perfect, a face and voice like a cherub in a painting. Every year she had the solo at the church choir’s Christmas Eve performance and every year people wiped away tears at her beautiful rendition. She didn’t look very angelic as she perched on the edge of her seat and leaned forward to talk animatedly with Killian. Her smile flashing at him and even an occasional stroke of his arm with her hand to emphasize a point. Even in the 90 seconds she had been standing there kicking her boots and unwinding the mile long scarf from her mother, she had watched the waitress stop by and lean across the table to give Killian quite the view down her shirt.

Ruby must have noticed too, as she left her spot behind the counter and fluffed Emma’s hair with an encouraging nod and a teasing note that Emma was wearing lip gloss. Spinning her with one hand on her shoulder, Ruby sort of nudged her in the direction of the booth with a hissed reminder to smile.

“Killian,” Emma said, ignoring the pout from Tink, whose real name was Isabella but didn’t want to be confused with the town librarian, Belle, “sorry I’m late.”

“Don’t trouble yourself, love,” he said, scooting out to stand as she arrived. “I was going over a few notes for the kick off and Tink here was catching me up on some of the ideocracies that make small town politics so fun.”

Emma flashed a quick smile at her childhood friend, watching her slink out of the booth and tell Killian she was in the town directory if he wanted to call. He did not follow her with his eyes as she sashayed toward the door, nor did he smirk like Emma wanted to do when Ruby called after Tink to tell her that she still owed for her morning tea. It wasn’t that she disliked Tink, but there was that feeling that made her feel ill when she saw her flirting with Killian.

He gestured for her to sit down a simple glance toward the counter sent the waitress scrambling to bring them menus and take their orders. Or maybe it was just his order, as he had to call her back to get Emma’s. Despite his seemingly healthy eating style the night before, he matched her order of a hot chocolate with whipped cream and cinnamon. Granny had even fancied it up with chocolate shavings.

His questions were easy at first, wanting to know about her childhood and then her job. While a few were personal, he did not seem to be prying. She even managed to ask him a few and he offered some answers of his own without objecting too loudly and then quickly getting them back on track. She learned of his naval experience that paid for his education and how he had become involved in the campaigns and politics of small cities and his love of the ocean and aged rum.

“So is your position as sheriff an elected one?” he asked, casually resting back in the vinyl seat across from her.

She was taking two sips to his one when she noticed the way he smiled as he watched her. Instinctively she raised her hand up to swipe at the whipped cream that might have gathered on her nose but found none. “What?” she asked in exasperation. “Did I make a mess?”

“No, I am simply enjoying watching you share your experiences as sheriff. Your passion for it shines on your face, love.”

She knew she was probably blushing and rolled her fork through the home fries as a distraction.

~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~

For the next few days they saw each other often. There was the announcement of her mother’s candidacy where she helped place signage. She ran into him when she went to inspect a license of one of the vendors at the skating rink and ended up sharing a drink and conversation. While pondering which type of creamer to buy, he popped up out of no where and offered a suggestion. He was even there when the church choir had a rehearsal, claiming he was talking to some potential volunteers. He did apologize for that when the choir director called Emma out for missing two of her cues in a row because she was watching him, in the words of Regina, make doe eyes at her and silently flirt.

In the mean time, her mother had been talking up Walsh’s skills in design and potential as a date for Emma. There was now a gaping hole in the living room at the farm house where her mother was having him design a custom entertainment center. Her brother was already complaining that the television on the floor was not the greatest idea. Emma tried to explain Walsh wasn’t her type, but her mother wasn’t hearing it and was asking when she was seeing him again. Given that she had not saved his number and had mutually agreed with him that they weren’t really each other’s type it seemed unlikely. However, Mary Margaret was so cutely sure she had done well this year that Emma hadn’t the heart to tell her.

One morning over doughnuts at the station her mother read the speech Killian had written for her campaign and asked her daughter for feedback. Emma offered a few remarks as the woman adjusted the clutter on her father’s desk.

“I think he’s handsome,” her mother said at one point. “Kinda has that mysterious look to him.”

“Who?” Emma asked distractedly. “Dad?”

It was the pronoun game.

“No, I was talking about…” The phone ringing cut off what Emma was sure was a pep talk about Walsh. The conversation was left unfinished as Emma went to investigate the case of the missing trash can lids. Spoiler: some of the kids were using them for sledding.

It was a full two days later before she saw Killian again. Granted he had texted a few times and called her “by accident” when he claimed he had meant to call her mother to discuss strategy. He was humming a tune and scrolling through his tablet when she and her son, Henry, spotted him inside the library. Apparently, he had set up shop in the corner and had everything but a receptionist there to greet visitors. Her son, who had heard his name a few times from his grandparents, pointed him out in a totally obvious way that made Emma want to crawl under the table. Somehow she managed to take a few steps closer and do more than the wave she originally planned.

“Nice office,” she said of the table he had commandeered. “Quiet I guess.”

“It has it’s perks,” he offered. “I was heading over to talk to your father. He said he would be at the station this afternoon. I take it you are not?”

“Short break to get my son home before I go back to face the files on my desk.” She knew her son was already done checking out his three books and would be joining them any second. She only hoped he would not blurt out an inappropriate question. She was about to send up a silent prayer when she noted that the glove Killian normally wore on his left hand was off and a synthetic material prosthetic was in its place. Before she could say anything, he looked down at the hand as though surprised by it and shrugged.

“Naval accident, an accident.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t realize,” she said not sure what else to say about it. It was clearly an old injury and hardly one she had a blame in causing.

“Tis an old pain,” he told her. “Most days I don’t really think of it.”

She nodded, glancing at her son who was still in conversation with Belle. “Does that mean you are getting more comfortable with me?” She instantly regretted saying that, as it came off a little weak.

“You do seem to put me at ease, love.” He winked at her and leaned a little to the left as her son ran up beside her. “You, lad, must be Henry. Your grandparents tell me you are quite the author.”

Henry nodded enthusiastically and continued the conversation for a few more beats, nearly forgetting his mother was there. Even a comment from another patron, Will, that Killian was clearly trying to get to the mother through the son, went unnoticed by all but Emma who stood taller and tried to let it slide. Killian was quite the conversationalist, observantly noting that Henry was holding a book on piracy along the New England states. That really got them going until Emma reminded Henry that she needed to drop him off at home to meet the tutor and get back to work.

That was how she ended up with Killian sitting in her living room and then the two of them walking side by side back to the station to interview her father. He opened doors for her, asked her less probing questions, and complimented the way she handled one of the boys known for getting into trouble with a stern look and warning. She was starting to feel natural about it all when he stopped short at the wreath decorated double doors and scratched behind his ear.

“I was wondering, love,” he said, shifting his eyes to the door and back to her again. “Rather I was hoping you might…well, bloody hell, I was hoping to ask you on that date. I gather you weren’t aware of who I was or why I was here when you sort of asked me.”

“I thought you were the guy my parents set me up with this year. It wasn’t my finest moment.”

He smiled nervously, his lips tight and his eyes again darting to the doors. She realized he was looking to see if her father was lurking. “It was rather adorable actually and I was thinking…”

She closed her eyes as he searched for the words, something she was sure he rarely did in his life. He always seemed to know the perfect thing to say and the perfect way to say it. “Killian, you don’t have to…”

“And if I want to?”

“Then maybe we could meet up tomorrow evening? Or wait no…tomorrow is the winter carnival for the kids at the orphanage and I am hosting the movie portion. Maybe Thursday…no Henry’s got his soccer game. I would say Friday but I’ve got choir practice and Saturday is mom’s campaign rally.” She truly looked sorry about her schedule as she shifted from one foot to the other.

“Busy lass,” he muttered. “I suppose we’ll have to consider another time. Or by chance are you free this evening?”

Biting down on her lip, she closed her eyes briefly. “I want to say yes, but my father is in there and I’d rather not mention this to him. And given that my son is likely to either eat potato chips and chocolate milk for dinner, stay up past bedtime for video games or inappropriate movies, or worst yet burn the place down in an attempt to see what he can melt in the oven, I’m thinking I need a back up babysitting plan that doesn’t include my parents.”

“Rather not hear the I told you so? Or are you hoping to keep me your little secret?”

“My parents are a little on the enthusiastic side when it comes to my love life.” She tilted her head back for a moment and then made eye contact again. “I have a plan, but you have to swear to me that we won’t be going to Granny’s or any place else they would be spotted.”

He assured her that paper napkins weren’t on the menu. “I have no issue with being circumspect, love. Trust me, I can plan an evening for us.”

If she didn’t trust him, she didn’t show it as he ushered her inside and greeted David. His cheeks were a little red from the cold and she knew hers were too. However, David never seemed to notice their conversation outside. She saw him pulling out his notes when she spoke up and asked David if Henry could perhaps have dinner with them. She managed to ask nonchalantly, simply a scheduling glitch.

“Any particular reason,” David asked, barely hiding his smile.

“I’m going out,” she answered vaguely, crossing her denim clad legs and pulling a stack of files into her lap. “Did you see Leroy’s file? I need to check about his court date.”

“Haven’t seen it. Anyone I know?” He was trying to watch her in the reflection of his computer screen, sneaking a few knowing looks at Killian who was flipping casually through his notebook.

“Oh you know,” she said, pausing to look at a document, “that guy from your party.” She didn’t want to lie to her dad, but she could tell he was not going to let up. It was one thing to have her father believe it was Walsh but another to flat out tell him that.

Killian seemed to understand, interrupting the awkwardness with a cheeky smile. “Since Emma appears to be on a deadline and you’ll be entertaining the lad this evening, it sounds like we need to get through these questions to prepare your wife’s talking points. Let’s start with the most obvious. You have a role that is second in command here at the station and in the community. How does that work with you effectively reporting to your own daughter?”

Emma let out a little sigh and as her father droned on about how proud he was of her, she shot Killian a grateful look. Her father seemed to take pride in both his work and how well she did her job, showing him pictures of celebrations after tough cases were solved and the commendations she had gotten from the governor. Most grown children worry that they aren’t successful enough or are somehow a disappointment to their parents. Emma didn’t have that worry when David Nolan talked about her.

He was still talking about how well Emma had worked with Regina who was stepping down to concentrate on her new life when Emma slipped out to change. Neither he nor Killian seemed to notice that she almost spoke up twice to tell Killian that maybe tonight wasn’t the best timing. Then she reminded herself of Ruby’s advice. He was a nice and more than good looking man. He didn’t even live here. So what if she went out with him. It was just fun.

She repeated that to herself as she went to her car to head home and change. That is until the realization hit that she didn’t really have anything to wear. A trip to one clothing store in town would rouse suspicion and the tailor was a friend of her mother’s. There was only one place to go.

~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~

“No leather, no spiked heels, no red, no plunging necklines, and I would preferably like to sit down without flashing everyone in town,” Emma said as Ruby dove into the bowels of her closet up above Granny’s. The woman had squealed, hugged Emma, and asked if certain parts had been shaved or waxed. Emma assured her that was not an issue and that she just needed something that didn’t have the capacity for her shoulder or hip holster. Ruby had of course said she had just the thing.

With no sign of her wardrobe addition, Emma looked at her phone and two unread texts.

Killian: Your father is in search of your old scouting badges. I feel like we should have code words. Perhaps not. Meet me at the docks at 7?

She answered quickly, not wanting Ruby to interfere with the response that would probably be inappropriate. A quick see you then and an internally debated smiley emoji would have to suffice. The next message was from her mother.

Mom: David says you have a date. Very exciting. When you come by to pick Henry up, I want to hear all about it. I’ll wait up.

Her mother was going to be an issue. She loved the eternal optimist that was her mother, a woman who had more than her fair share of darkness, including losing two parents early in life, but rose above it to see the good in people. Wasn’t that what Emma was doing. She was seeing the good in Killian despite the voices inside that said this was a bad idea. Well, she could rationalize it that way. Her mother truly wanted a happily ever after for her daughter, something even  Emma couldn’t disagree with in scheme of things. The fact that her mother even believed in such things was pretty amazing.

Ruby emerged with a black dress that looked more like a set of random strips all stitched together. Beneath it was a red dress that flared out and looked more appropriate for dancing. And beneath that was a soft mauve frock with a full skirt and wrapped bodice. She knew that was the one she wanted to wear, but knowing Ruby she had to at least try the others. Half an hour later she was wearing the lighter colored dress, matching nude heels, and her hair was what her friend called casually curled.

She was standing with her arms crossed for warmth at the docks at 7:01 when Killian emerged from one of the sailboats with a single red rose in his hands. “Apparently,” he said, steadily walking the gang plank despite the swell of the waves that had her not quite sure if she was standing still or not, “it is nearly impossible to procure just a rose this time of year. You almost ended up with a pot of poinsettias.”

“It’s beautiful,” she remarked. “You didn’t have to go to the trouble.”

He assured her that it was no trouble and that she was beautiful herself. Below deck he had a small table set with real dishes and flatware, a bottle of wine and containers of pastas and sauces from the Italian restaurant she had mentioned. The only thing, he mused, was that he could not do the candles since such items were not really safe on a boat.

“Confession time,” he said, clinking his glass with hers. “I borrowed the boat. I don’t have one here in Storybrooke.”

“I knew that,” she admitted. “It’s my uncle Leroy’s boat.”

“Short man, scruffy looking, kind of grumpy?”

“Always grumpy, yes. It’s nice of you though. Not too many prying eyes.”

He took a sip and pondered that for a moment. “I take it that you would prefer to keep things clandestine just in case. I am also guessing that you gave the information to your friend Ruby just in case I turn out to be a murderer.”

“I can take care of myself.” She squared her shoulders off.

“Aye, I believe you can, love.”

The rest of the meal passed with pleasant conversation and only a few awkward pauses that were usually filled before it got to be too much. Killian had even brought along a set of speakers to stream music allowing them to dance. It was a tough that even Emma thought was sweet as his arms were around her in a way that she admitted fit. She wasn’t sure how much life was left in his phone or when the clouds that had been building all day would open up with snow, but time seemed to stand still as they swayed. Her eyes closed and her head resting against his right shoulder. He lifted their entwined hands and softly kissed hers. She was glad her eyes were closed and her head nestled against his chest.

She could feel his breathing change and his hold feeling tense. Her name came out as a whisper from him. She lifted her head and found his eyes searching hers. “Emma? I would very much like to kiss you.”

“I’m not sure you can handle that,” she teased in just as soft of a voice. Yet she closed the space between them and let him close the rest. Their lips touching softly at first and then with more passion. Her hands gripped at his shirt, pulling him toward her and his hand hovered at her hair before threading through it with a sort of awe she had never experienced.

They might have stayed like that for a while had the siren of her dad’s cruiser not shattered the cold and quiet night. Maybe they should have stayed below deck, ignored her father’s presence on the docks. However, that plan faded as his footsteps grew closer and she knew, just knew that someone had spotted them on Leroy’s boat and reported it. Resigned to the fate that her father was about to find out who her date was with and probably have an opinion about it, she took a step back and turned to climb up into the cold. While he said nothing, Killian placed his own jacket, a worn leather one, over her shoulders. It was a gentlemanly gesture and one that shouldn’t surprise her.

“Dad?” she asked, holding one hand over her eyes to shield it from the giant flakes falling silently from the sky. “Did something…”

Her father looked startled and even a little embarrassed to see her there. His breathing was normalizing when Killian emerged too, which sent his eyes wide and his gasp of surprise sharpening. “I didn’t realize…”

“Everything okay, mate?” Killian asked. His dark colored shirt and black vest offered little warmth against the plummeting temperatures. However, he did not indicate it by shivering or otherwise complaining.

“Sure…I mean I was just answering a call about someone attempting to break in cars when I saw Emma’s bug. Someone said they thought they saw the suspect run this way and…”

Emma gave her father a nod, taking a deep breath to switch back into her role as sheriff. “Any description?”

Her father’s eyes drifted to where Killian’s hand was covering hers and giving it a slight squeeze of reassurance. They narrowed and his voice faltered as he answered, “light colored hair, red sweatshirt, about 5’9”, thin.”

“Sounds like a juvenile,” Emma assessed. “I’m assuming we don’t have any camera visuals. Last time we investigated over here the cameras were malfunctioning and I haven’t noticed…”

“Emma,” her father said, his boots shuffling a little on the worn planks of the dock that were beginning to be covered in snow. “You don’t have to…I mean…You’re on a date…I guess you are.”

“Well, yeah,” she said, glancing at Killian who seemed to be enjoying the moment. Suddenly she felt the urge to clear up the misconceptions she had caused. “I didn’t mean to…” She cleared her throat. “I know you probably thought I meant I was seeing that Walsh guy.”

“Your mother’s buying an entertainment center from him,” David answered with confusion. “It’s not my business who…but where is Walsh?” He did manage to lower the flashlight and seem less ominous there on the docks, but still had his hand on his hip and was rocking backwards as he waited for explanations.

“I’m not really sure. I haven’t exactly seen him since the party.” Emma glanced at Killian who was standing closer to her than she realized. That wasn’t exactly unpleasant as a prospect. “Killian and I…”

“You and Killian,” he father parroted with the confusion that it hadn’t dawned on him. “You and Killian what?”

Killian gave her hand another squeeze and took a step forward as though offering himself as tribute. “Aye, mate. I do fancy your daughter and she and I have been spending time together.”

Blinking back at them, David appeared to running through the occasions he had seen them together and attempting to digest this information. “So the conversation about intentions toward Emma should be delivered to you and not Walsh?” It was too dark to know for sure, but Emma thought he looked a little disappointed.

She reminded him that there was a potential thief on the loose and he assured her he had it under control and to go back to her date. Killian just sort of shrugged and offered his analysis that it wasn’t that much of a secret after all. They talked a bit longer, took a slow walk toward her car, and both hopped in with him saying he would walk to Granny’s after she was safely at her parents with her son.

“That’s ridiculous,” she said, speeding up the wipers against the snow. “I can drop you off. No need for you to freeze.”

He looked toward her in the dark car and gave her a soft smile. “Your father is bound to have told your mother about our date, love. I know you had hoped to keep it secret. I only wanted to offer my services should you want them to fend off her disappointment and concern.” He jumped when she placed her hand over his prosthetic.

“I didn’t mean for it to be a secret. I guess I just don’t want to disappoint them with another failed attempt at matchmaking. My mother has to be ready to give up by now.”

“Perhaps,” he said thoughtfully, “she might have to give up anyway. If we were to date, surely she would not attempt to replace me each year.” Her hand jerked away fast, something he noticed. “I hoped you might want…”

She sighed, turning her car off the coastal road to the one that led toward town. “Killian, I am the one who originally asked you out. Even if that was a misunderstanding. I had fun. I enjoy spending time with you. But…”

“But?”

“But we live in two different cities. The special election is going to be over next month. What kind of relationship can we have when you’ll be off on your next job and I’ll still be here? I’m not 18 and free to wander around after you. I have a job, parents, a son, and responsibilities.”

“We could…”

“Killian, I like you. I like spending time with you, but I’m not interested in starting a go no where or long distance relationship. I want more than a pen pal. Think about it. You do too.” The driveway of the farmhouse was coming into sight and then disappeared as she passed it. “I’ll take you back to Granny’s. No sense in talking to my mother about this. We’ll just say it was a one time thing.”

“As you wish.” His voice was quiet, deep, and almost wistful.

~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~

As the holidays grew nearer, Emma’s parents and Killian went into campaign overdrive. There were photoshoots of the whole family on the farm. Her mother even managed to sneak in a few candid shots of Emma and Killian. Speaking of Mary Margaret, she was only mildly disappointed at Emma’s secret that she was not seeing Walsh. That was quickly erased as she said she had considered setting her daughter up with Killian, but was quickly dissuaded when her internal voice said her daughter would object. Nobody corrected her on it.

For his part, Killian worked hard and would try to sneak in time with Emma. They shared a few lunches, walked around the farm discussing a few strategies, and shopped together for a present for her parents. He sat with them on Christmas Eve when Emma performed with the choir for mass, looking just as in awe and proud as her parents did. He even joined them for the evening meal on Christmas, leaving behind a gift for Emma rather than making a big deal of her opening it in front of everyone.

As the wreathes were removed and the snow seemed not as white, the election day finally drew close and Killian was even more of a fixture. He was constantly showing up with a new tactic and shoving his client in front of cameras to announce a proposed initiative. Everything from illiteracy to hunger would be addressed by Mary Margaret Nolan for mayor. When election day arrived, more than 60% of the voters chose her and he beamed proudly from the sidelines. Most people noticed the hug shared between Emma and Killian, but it seemed to be just part of the celebration. It went so long into the night that nobody really saw the two of them saying goodbye the next morning.

“I wish it was different,” she admitted, folding her arms over her chest. “I’m sorry.”

“Perhaps someday, love. After all, nothing stays the same.”

She watched as the Uber driver loaded his bags and Killian reluctantly slid into the backseat. Their eyes were locked and the unsaid words hung in the air. She wasn’t sure she even breathed again until she was pulling up in front of her parents’ house. Her father was flipping pancakes, but her mother was at the doorway even as she dragged up the steps of the front porch.

“I like him,” her mother said. “He’s a good man.”

“Yeah,” Emma agreed, accepting the hug and hurrying in before the next gust of wind. “I just…I don’t want this every time we see each other. I don’t want to miss him and have the constant feel like a clock is counting down the hours.”

“I know, Emma. And that is very practical, but if you…”

Emma didn’t wait for her mom to finish the statement before greeting her father and asking about setting the table. It wouldn’t be the last time that her mother brought him up. She would over the next few months, mentioning seeing him at some event or another. Emma never asked, but her mother would always update her on his well being. It wasn’t that Emma didn’t know. He still called. He texted. When he was in the area he would invite her to dinner or to an event. She occasionally went but always told herself it was just casual. He never tried to kiss her again and she never sat herself too close to him, despite Ruby’s advice to do so.

A book he had mentioned to her once said of the protagonist and her lover turned best friend, “they would continue to call and write until eventually they were just acquaintances and no longer a real part of each other’s lives.” That’s what Emma resigned herself to when he didn’t answer her text or voicemail inviting him to her parents’ annual party. He’d been pretty scarce for the past few weeks. Their conversations short and usually interrupted by something or someone. She once even heard a female voice in the background and wondered if he was seeing someone. That idea hurt more than she wanted to admit.

She wore red to her parents’ party, her hair hanging loose and the smile on her face tense and unyielding. She was sipping on champagne and watching as Regina and Robin twirled around the room still in bliss nearly a year after their wedding. Walsh was there too, dancing with Zelena and inking a new design deal with Marco. Neal had brought Tink as his date, which made Emma roll her eyes. And her parents were at their prime greeting and hugging all of those in attendance.

“Emma,” her mother called out when a few more guests were greeted. “Come here. I want you to say hello to someone.”

Ruby gave her a sympathetic look as Emma begrudgingly dragged her feet over to where her parents were standing. And there he stood, Killian in a freshly pressed suit with a wide smile on his face as she approached. Her mother was giddy as she mockingly introduced them. “Emma, you remember my old campaign manager, Killian, right? Well, he was in town getting settled because his new job at the governor’s office starts next month. I was thinking that he might be just the kind of guy you’d like to get to know.”

[365days365movies]

February 5, 2021: The Notebook (Part 2)

Well, I’m back. Read Part One of this recap for more; I wanna get into this sappy folderol before I abort mid-way, y’know? Jumpin’ iiiiiiiiin.

I can’t believe this, but Noah was apparently right, and Allie comes right back to him and the house. She says hello, he says nothing, she goes back into her car and immediately crashes into a fence - women drivers, AMIRITEFELLAS????? That, uh...that was a joke, to be clear. Noah invites her inside, and she accepts.

In the present day, the old woman...OK, can we drop the pretense here? It’s Allie. IT’S OBVIOUSLY ALLIE, who appears to have some form of dementia. And “Duke” is probably an old Noah. I mean, who names their kid Duke? During an impromptu visit with the doctor, it’s revealed that Noah’s had 2 heart attacks recently, and that the old woman’s name is Mrs. Hamilton. She plays her leitmotif by memory, and we now go back to the past. All pretenses seemingly off, now.

The two former lovers reconcile, and decide to be friends. Yeah. Sure. They’re definitely not gonna go for it right on the floor of that haunted mansion. They actually don’t, but invites her to come back the next morning, as he wants to show her something (in his paaaaaaaaants, probably). 

Present day, again, and their children visit the home. “Duke’s” living there in order to get Allie to remember her life with Noah, but her kids have basically completely given up on her. Geez, guys. I know you miss your dad, but it IS your MOM we’re talking about! Stop asking your Dad to semi-abandon her!

We’ve dropped the pretense of the story reading at this point, as the two lovers in the past row through a swamp populated by...domestic geese and ducks. Yeah, sorry if that ruins the magic, but white mallards don’t exist in the wild, and snow geese are NOT found in South Carolina. Nor do they migrate to the Guatemala Sound, BECAUSE THAT IS NOT A PLACE THAT EXISTS

Anyway, after Noah takes the bird-woman to meet her own kind, it rains...and you know what scene this is. I know what scene this is. If you’ve NEVER SEEN this movie, you still know exactly what this is.

Well, infidelity reigns once more, as the two unfurl their passions and IMMEDIATELY consummate the relationship; no more hesitation this time, THAT’S for goddamn sure. They make love in that typical semi-chaste no-nudity way that we get in these movies. They go for the entire night, eventually winding up on the floor of the room, just like old times. And, uh...Allie’s got a decision to make now, huh?

As they wake up, I just want to make a quick side note here: remember that romance movie that my girlfriend and I were making up as a joke? Well, the number one rule of that movie is NO GODDAMN CHEATING ON YOUR SIGNIFICANT OTHER. Both romantic leads will be single at the beginning of the film, no matter what. They will eventually fall for each other, of course, but the two will NOT cheat on a loved one in order to get together, GODDAMMIT.

Anyway, Martha ends up showing up the the house, and meets Allie. They have dinner together, she realizes that she’d forgotten what true love looked like until she saw them, I vomit everywhere - just EVERYWHERE - and she gives him a goodbye kiss. The next morning, full of pre-marital bliss, Allie begins painting once again, when who should show up this time but her mom

.Annie’s here to warn Allie that Lon is on her way to town. Allie confronts her about the letters, which Annie immediately confesses to keeping. While Allie’s immediately extremely upset with her, and understandably, Annie confides in her that she was once in love with a lower-class worker, like Allie fell in love with Noah. But, due to her father, things ended similarly as they did with Noah.

Annie loves Allie’s father, but still misses her unrequited love from years past. And it’s at this point that I, uh...I really need to say something. I desperately wish that the dude that Annie fell for back in the day...was Black. HOLY SHIT, do I wish that were the case. And yeah...I’ll get into it. Because this movie completely ignores racial politics of the era, and it gets...awkward sometimes.

Anyway, Annie makes amends with her daughter, and indirectly with Noah, and actually gives her BACK all of the letters from that year, having kept ALL of them? WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU GONNA DO WITH THOSE, LADY? Anyway, Allie and Noah have a discussion about the next steps, which naturally turns into an argument. Oh no! Are they going to get to - I’m just gonna jump over recapping this part. We all know how this is gonna end.

After Simp Noah calls out Flaky Annie, she goes to talk to Lon, and INEVITABLY BREAK UP WITH HIM I AM SURE OF IT. On the way, she demonstrates her driving skills, and somewhere out there, a frustrated 75-year old man watching this against his will shouts to the heavens, “WOMEN ARE TOO EMOTIONAL TO DRIIIIIIIIVE!!!” Allie opens one of Noah’s letters and cries, while Allie in the present notes how sad it makes her feel. Present Noah quotes Whitman, and Allie seems to recognize this as well.

Duke/Noah’s set up a romantic dinner for the pair of them in the nursing home, and his story (history, ha) continues. Lon knows the whole story now, and true to FUCKING FORM, HE FORGIVES HER COMPLETELY AND WHOLLY. Because Lon is the Walter of this movie, and he’s also surpassed him in that department, I think. Lon still loves her, and even comforts her, while admitting that he wants her to stay.

AND OF COURSE HE GETS CUCKING FUCKED!!!!! DID YOU THINK THIS WAS GONNA END ANY OTHER GODDAMN WAY??? STOP. FUCKING. OVER. NICE. GUYS, MOVIES!

Anyway, upon that realization, Allie actually remembers who Duke/Noah is, breaking through her dementia. However, it’s only going to last about 5 minutes. And I’m not gonna lie, although I don’t care as much about the relationship of their younger selves...I love these two.

And then...she forgets again. And that FUCKING BLOWS HOLY SHIT. She freaks out, no longer recognizing Noah, and she begins sundowning. The staff is forced to subdue and sedate her, and Noah breaks down. It’s terrible. And this is the only part of the movie that resonates with me. I mean that, this is heartbreaking.

The story was written by Allie, in order for Noah to read it to her, so that she’ll remember. And it worked for a little while. But now, it’s done. And so is Noah. He has a heart attack, and is rushed to medical care. Allie, meanwhile, is taken to a dementia ward where her medical care is made more strict, as her dementia has gotten considerably worse. After he begins to recover from his attack, he goes once again to see Allie, against doctor’s orders. He wakes her up, and she remembers him one more time.

And I’m not gonna lie...this is where the present-day part of the movie loses me a little bit. Noah promises that, no matter what happens, he’ll never leave her side, even when she loses all of her memories. Allie asks if he believes that their love can create miracles. He replies that he does. She then asks...if their love can take them away together.

Yeah...they both die together that night. The nurses find them in the morning, where they’re still holding hands. And...yeah, that’s touchingly maudlin, sure, but...it’s also a little too sappy for me. But...it is effective. I’ll give it that. Geese fly away, as if fulfilling Allie’s request of the two of them becoming birds came true.

That’s The Notebook. Huh. That was...something. I mean, it wasn’t necessarily as bad as I thought it was going to be. But was it great? Ehhhhhhhh, review, see you in the Review.

[tabithacarlisle]

*OFF THE RECORD Pairing: Maxwell x Tabitha (TRR MC) | (Liam x Tabitha & Drake x Liam are mentioned)

Word Count: 4392 (pour yourself a drink and settle in ;)

Warnings: 18+ NS*W, 🍋, marital angst, smut, extramarital affairs, pregnancy, swearing

bonus warning: this is my first fic in a long, long time! It’s probably super messy, but this story has been bouncing around in my head ever since I first read TRR Book 3’s Vegas Fling with Maxwell & it blew my mind!! ;) Glad to finally put it out there in print. 

*OFF THE RECORD PREQUEL  <<< click here!*

*Author’s Note: any time you see text underlined, it’s a link to screenshots from Pixelberry’s Choices TRR scenes, or other chapters referenced from *OTR- click them!! :) Notes: Pixelberry Studios owns these characters, not me! I just have fun playing with them :) Also a short snippet of dialogue quoted from Choices TRR 3 Chapter 16 “What Happens in Vegas...” is used as a flashback. This chapter takes place about 4 months after the Royal Wedding in TRR Book 3 Off The Record (OTR)by Jo (“@tabithacarlisle” :) Maxwell got the Caller ID notification on his iWatch:

‘Tabitha 👑🌸’.

He answered it right away on his cell,“Hey, ‘Your Majesty!’ Glad you called! I was just thinking about calling you, actually, I—“

(Crying, she cut him off) “Oh Maxwell...”::sob:: “Hey-heyhey hey, shhhhh, it’s ok. It’s ok! What’s going on- what happened?”

“I had to reschedule my sonogram appointment that was supposed to be for tomorrow. Bastien called. He said Liam’s one-on-one meetings at the Davos Summit are running late, and he’ll need to stay out there for another week. But, Liam wants us to find out the baby’s sex together, so I’ll just... have to keep waiting! Again! Oh my fucking gawd, Max! He’s always in ‘meetings!’ He’s always gone! I was just looking forward to us sharing that moment together to see our new baby, so much. How could Liam put off such an important milestone for his first child? It’s not fair. No— I shouldn’t say that. I mean,I know —He warned me what I was getting into when I married him, how he’d have to split his loyalties between me and his duties as King. But, Maxwell, I don’t think I’m cut out to be the sole parent while he galavants around the globe all the time! Our first sonogram! Is nothing sacred? For fuck’s-sake?!” Another loud sob escaped her throat. “I’m sorry, I’m hormonal hot-mess right now and more upset by this than I probably should be, but... I could really use a friend to distract me right now. I —“ “Say no more! I’m only a quick jet-ride away. I’ll be there a-sap.” She sniffed on the other end. “Omigod, I don’t know what I did to deserve a best friend like you, Max. Thank you.” Her statement caught Maxwell off guard. He felt his breath catch in his throat & his heart take a small leap in his chest. After that beat, he spoke, “Stop it. You deserve everything good, Tabitha. And, I feel the same about you, too.” ...

Tabitha had cared for Maxwell more than anyone in his had ever cared for him in his whole life, besides his late mother, and the thought of her being sad tugged at his heartstrings like no other. He’d do anything to make her smile and take her pain away

...... Maxwell fast-walked to keep up with Mara as she led him down the long, gilded hallway to the master bedroom doors. Even with his lanky, athletic legs and naturally speedy gait, his hurried strides still kept him about half a pace behind hers. Mara spoke to him over her shoulder, “Between the two of us, OTR? I’m thankful you came, Lord Maxwell. Her Majesty has been holed up in her room all day.” He gave a solemn nod and waited at the door as Mara rapped her knuckles on the frame “Lord Maxwell to see you, your Majesty.”

The sound of urgent steps grew louder before the door opened . Tabitha covered her sob with the back of her hand. “Oh Maxwell!”

They hugged, clinging to each other as if their bodies were buoys in the middle of a vast ocean. Maxwell placed a chaste kiss on her head as she burrowed it into his chest. After a few moments Tabitha pulled away from him long enough to address her bodyguard,

“Thank you, Mara. We’ll be fine.”

Mara gave a curt bow and left the room closing the door behind her. Maxwell gripped her hands to space their bodies apart as to get a better look at her. Tears were rolling down her cheeks and Tabitha shuddered as she felt his barely calloused thumb pad wipe them away.

“It has been way too long, Tabz! I’m sorry I’ve gotten so wrapped up in my book tour. And I haven’t seen you since you and Liam announced the news. Look at you!” His eyes shone with emotion as he looked her up and down, seeing the small growing bump underneath her shift dress. “You’re going to be a mom!”

Tabitha’s sobs resumed with a heave in her chest, her hands still holding on to his. She looked down and sighed. “But Liam’s not here.” She let go to dab the corner of her eye with the back of her thumb. “This was supposed to be a big milestone. It was so important to me. It should have been important for him, too! This whole pregnancy, becoming a parent in the next few months, it doesn’t even feel real yet, y’know? I just want to see this baby so badly to prove that to myself, to hear its heartbeat again. And, I wanted this for Liam, too! He needs that affirmation just as much as I do. I want him to feel that this is real. For us. For the family we’re about to create.”

“Psssh. Of course it’s real, Tabitha! Look at me, look. This? Right here? This was always the ‘end game’ for us. Getting Liam to fall in love with you, getting the two of you married and secure your place on throne for Cordonia with an heir, it’s all real! You have no idea how proud of you I am.”

“Really?”

“You know it.” Maxwell clicked his tongue mischievously as he squatted down low, hovering his cupped palms over her belly. He looked up at her with wide, adoring eyes. “May I?”Tabitha smiled softly and nodded, touched by his reverence for her condition.Having permission, he placed both hands down over her stomach and turned his head as he spoke animatedly to it “Hello in there, Little One! Guess what? Gender reveal parties are so basic! Definitely too passé for a future celebrity trend-setter like you!”Tabitha giggled.He looked up to give her a subtle wink, then continued talking to her belly in a more of a whisper, but loud enough for Tabitha to hear him, “You are destined for so. much. more! And your favorite Uncle Maxwell is going to spoil you rotten, no matter what.”

Tabitha put her hands over his as she looked at him with happy tears beginning to well in her eyes, “I can’t wait for that to happen.”Maxwell beamed up at Tabitha and gave her belly an adoring quick kiss before he sprung up from his crouching position to a stand. He began to tear up too, seeing so much emotion stirring in her. There was so much he wanted to say, but now that she was the Queen he felt as if it was no longer his place quite like before, to be so free with his words with her. So instead, he stared intensely into her eyes and beamed at her, wishing to convey all he felt in his heart at that moment through his smile.

“Maxwell,” she began with a tentative shake to her voice “there’s somethi—“ “No, no.” he interrupted, “You asked me to be your distraction from all of this, and I promised I’d come through for you.” “When Maxwell Percival Beaumont makes a promise, he delivers!” Maxwell pulled a small thumb drive out of his pocket. “Ahem. OK, check . this . out. My buddy, Spencer, just gave me some bootleg pre-theatrical releases of ‘John Wick 3,’ ‘Avengers Endgame,’ and ‘The Curse of La Llorna’. Siiiiiick, right?! I’m so stoked! I’ll call the kitchen downstairs for popcorn and drinks, and we’re in business!“ “Ugh, no,” she groaned, turning away and shutting him down, “no action or horror movies tonight. You know how they put me to sleep.” He scoffed in mock disappointments at her, chuckling.”I still don’t get it. How the hell does anyone fall asleep during action movies?! What‘s wrong with you?” Tabitha shrugged, “I told you, without character development or drama to pull me in, it all just becomes too much overstimulation and I just, tune it out. The loud sound effects just start to sound like a white noise machine.” Yawning through her words, she continued, “But, now that you mention it, maybe that’s just what I need to cure my insomnia?” “No, nononono. I did not come all the way from Ramsford to have my bestie fall asleep on me tonight, Tabz!” Rubbing and patting her shoulders and crouching slightly to look directly into her eyes he said, “Here’s what we’re gonna do: I’m going order up sundaes to the room and we’re going to stay up hate-watching trashy reality shows. Whatever it takes for you to have the fun night that you deserve, ok?” She smirked in agreement, “Ice cream & trashy tv? Now you’re speaking my language.” Maxwell triumphantly gave his fist aquick air pump “Yes! I’ll call the kitchen up right now.” ...........

Within moments they were sitting sprawled on the oversized chaise loungers in the adjoining theater room, watching “Real Housewives of Cordonia” on the drop down projection screen and spooning mouthfuls of mutiflavored ice cream sundaes into their mouths. Maxwell had consumed enough wine for the both of them which warmed him plenty afterwards but Tabitha had to abstain. Brrrr!” She shivered “Omigod I’m freezing now!” Maxwell chuckled & shook his head, bouncing up right away to fetch a large plush throw blanket to drape over her with a dramatic flourish. He knew the drill. “Your wish, is my command.” “Thank you!” she gushed, her teeth were still chattering, “You’re so good to me, Maxwell.” “Mind if I stretch out here? I need to put my feet up.” Maxwell found her adorable when she was cold and pouty. “Of course!” He winked and motioned for her to cuddle up against him, “C’mere,” and as she placed her head on his lap he ruffled her hair playfully. In this moment, they were just Tabitha & Maxwell, ‘best friends.’ She was his first real best friend. Isn’t this what all best friends do? “She’s like the sister I never had” he’d tell his other guy friends when they had teased him about her. They didn’t believe him. Was that it though? They were about the same age but he felt an impulse to comfort and guard her from any one or anything that could make her sad. Like an older brother? No, it was much more complex than that. Maxwell draped his arm over Tabitha protectively and she snuggled up against him, her eyes closed for a brief moment, full of contentment. As the night wore on, several episodes later, Maxwell found himself laughing at a commercial and looked down at Tabitha to see why she wasn’t laughing too. She was sound asleep. “Geez, I should have known,” he whispered, “you always fall asleep when you lie down to watch tv,”

Maxwell felt a surge of warm appreciation for how much she still trusted him, after all this time, even after marrying Liam, to let down her guard enough to fall asleep on him. He found her breathtaking when she slept, watching her long lashes flutter softly over her cheeks. Pregnancy suited Tabitha; she was even more radiant than usual, and her hair was long and lush, spread out and falling over both her shoulders and his knees. Her lips were swollen and parted, and as he watched the rise and fall of her body, he fell in a sort of trance watching sleepy breaths escaping softly from her mouth every few seconds. Maxwell felt the urge to touch her. He gently combed his fingers through her hair, tracing over the braided bags that always crowned her forehead, and in doing this he began to recall the bachelorette party, the after party, “a free pass” 

....... ~(flashback to Tabitha and Maxwell lying naked together in The Vegas hotel penthouse suite bed, Maxwell playing with her hair)~

“I’m going to wake up tomorrow and wonder if any of this was real...”

“What happens in Vegas...”

“Can happen anywhere else in the world?”

“Maxwell.”

“Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

~...

He remembered that night, the way she made him feel like the luckiest guy on earth. Why me? The future queen of Cordonia could have had any one that night for her ‘last premarital fling,’ sanctioned & blessed by none other than the her future husband, the King of Cordonia himself. And she picked Maxwell Beaumont? He remembered how out of character it was for her to seem nervous talking to him when she had brought it up at the hotel bar at the end of the night. The way she blushed and seemed just slightly and uncharacteristically nervous, she had never smiled at him like that before. He remembered she shivered when he kissed her neck, her collar bone, the swell of her breast, He remembered how she smelled, how she tasted, the soft, beautiful and otherworldly sounds she made as he went down on her on the window seat overlooking the Vegas Strip, how effortlessly he had fit into her, and how easy it had been for them to find their shared rhythm as they came together...

Coming to and snapping out of his flashback, Maxwell audibly whelped as he realized how close Tabitha’s face was to his crotch and his growing erection aching against the fly of his pants. The noise that escaped from the back of his throat caused her to stir, and he cursed himself under his breath for waking Tabitha up. “Err, sorry Sleeping Beauty but I... gotta—‘xcuse me!” he started to get up

Tabitha started to sit up herself, drowsily, with her eyes squinting against the glow of the projection screen in the semi dark room. Her line of vision came into focus onto Maxwell’s lap as he hastily tried to move from under her, and just as suddenly, she became aware of what must have been the source of his need to get away. “Maxwell! Omigod I’m so sorry- what happened?” Was that - was I touching you in my sleep? Liam says I—“ Hearing Liam’s name made his flight response kick into overdrive. This was wrong, this was so, so wrong and he had really fucked up, again. Maxwell blurted out “No! No no, it’s not— I just... had to—“ “Oh gawd” she realized he was leaving to go ‘rub one out’ in the bathroom, and the thought of him doing that had made her surprisingly horny, “Wait, Maxwell...” her hungry eyes begged him, looking him over up and down and resting at his girth. Then she sat up and did that thing Maxwell loved so when she bit the corner of her bottom lip, “You don’t need to take care of that alone. I can help you.” Oh shit. He couldn’t. She was married now. To Liam. King Liam. Maxwell began to really sweat now. fuck, is this really happening? I can’t let her do this I can’t— “No!” He pleaded, unconvincingly “I can just go—mmmphf!” His words of objection were silenced when her lips crashed into his and she them with the tip of her tongue. He lost himself, momentarily suspended in disbelief and letting go, groans escaping into her mouth as his hand moved to cup her jaw. But just as suddenly as the kiss had happened he remembered where they were, who was missing, and he let her go. “No, Tabitha,... what about Liam. You can’t. We can’t” “He’s not here.” she protested, wiping off her mouth. “He won’t be back for days. Bastien said this summit goes on for—” “But” he looked down at her baby-bump, asking his head. “I can’t, I don’t want to hurt the baby” Tabitha laughed “omigod, Maxwell! do you realize how often pregnant women have sex? It’s completely safe, nothing bad will happen to the baby” “...Really?” “Doctor approved. My hormones are raging, I’ve got no more morning sickness so now I’m horny all the time! Which is unfortunate because Liam has been.. distant, and busy.. And you know about, him and Drake, right? The real reason why Drake is always coming along on these international business trips with him?” “I mean yeah, I know... I know what used to go on” he nods, “but, I thought they would have stopped that by now, now that you’re married, I mean?“ “I had thought the same thing, but Mara & Bastien & Liam have placed so many restrictions on my travel. I feel like a princess stuck in a tower! I mean I get why they’re being overprotective, I’m carrying the future heir to the throne. But now that means I can’t be there for Liam when he gets he needs to be fulfilled. Drake is there, I’m not, so... I get it, I do. We’ve talked about it and we have an understanding. But, I get so emotional and lonely now, I just wish.... Liam has needs but, so do I...” she looked up through her lashes at him pleadingly and then back down her thin fingers ghosting over his belt. He gulped. “Yeah, ::pant:: ‘needs’, I know about those...” he could feel his dick stiffening again, aching for her. She kissed her way up Maxwell’s jawline and nipped at his ear, tenderly moaning into it.“Mmhmm.” Maxwell shivered. Tabitha’s hands went straight for his belt buckle. Like Houdini breaking out of a straightjacket she expertly freed his erection. When she pulled down the elastic from his boxer briefs his cock sprung out and bobbed up against his shirt. Tabitha grabbed his shaft and took him into her mouth in one swift motion. Maxwell’s hips instinctively thrust forward and he closed his eyes, grunting “jesusFUCK that’s good. ahhh!-“ he could now feel her canines lightly grazing his skin, her pointed tongue scribbling lines on him, and though his eyes were closed he could feel her smiling with satisfaction at how easy he was to please with each moan of pleasure he made. Maxwell’s hands grabbed her hair to pull her closer as her checks once again hollowed out to take all of him in. It was hard, really hard, for Maxwell to remember to have inhibitions and to mind the Royal protocol with his dick deep in her mouth. He knew he should stop, but then again, if he should stop, why would it feel so natural and so fucking good to be like this with her? “Tabitha...” She let the tip of his shaft roll out of her mouth and rest on her pursed lips while taking the length in one hand and his balls in the other, cupping him while circling the underside of the velvety head with the tip of her tongue. Licking him down and up, she traced the sinewy underside of the shaft, her fingers massaged tight circles on the sensitive spot just underneath his sac. “Nghhnn!” Maxwell saw how the lust in her eyes made her pupils flood them with black, darkening with desire. That look from her made his cock convulse and beads of precum began leaking at the tip. Tabitha moaned with him inside her mouth causing tantalizing vibrations on his member... but Maxwell’s trance was interrupted by a sudden and inconvenient thought invaded his mind. “Wait!”He pulled away from her. Tabitha looked up at him, confused “What?” she pouted. “I can’t cum in your mouth!” he almost whispered motioning to her stomach: “The b—.” Tabitha covered her mouth in horror “shit, you’re right” She blushed furiously.

Tabitha started to get up but her eyes darted to the side as a solution presented itself to her. She looked back at him with a Cheshire Cat grin and raked her fingers up his abdomen to his chest. “Well then, Lord Beaumont,” she purred “it looks like you’re just going to have to cum inside me.” Maxwell opened his mouth to protest, but soon forgot his objections when she came back down to meet his lips again. He smiled against her mouth and deepened the kiss as they raced and fumbled to finish undressing each other. Maxwell’s teeth playfully nipped and sucked at the exposed hollow of her neck and she gasped at the sensation. “Oh god, Tabitha. I want you so bad” he murmured in his soft, husky voice at her ear before he bit at the cartilage. “I need you now, Max.” she gasped. Maxwell’s hands palmed her breasts once he had sprung them from their confines and the heat of arousal blooming from her core at his touch was almost enough to send her over the edge. He lowered his head to take them in his mouth and stopped, his lips agape and his eyes widened, at how she had changed since the last time he had seen her naked. “They’re...so...big now!” A rakish smile crept on his face from ear to ear. He bent his neck again, meaning to tease her by biting her nipple, but it had the opposite effect and Tabitha whimpered. “ahhhAahh! More sensitive now, too!” Maxwell looked up apologetically at her “Sorry! I’ll be gentle.” Taking precious care now to avoid being so rough he swirled slow circles around her nipples with his tongue before taking her breast into his mouth to suck it. She moaned in the way that let him know he was doing it just right now and she could feel him smiling on her again.Tracing the faint raised lines of his hippo tattoo on his chest with deep longing she implored, him “I need you Max, right now.”

“Yes m’am!” He scooped her up into his arms and she squealed with surprised delight as he carried her over to the bed. Maxwell set her down dotingly on the pillows and kissed her again as he maneuvered himself on his knees between her legs. He allowed his shaft to slide against her folds, slick with arousal, rubbing back and forth on her clit. Tabitha grabbed the sheets and arched her back mewling with pleasure. “Now, Maxwell!” He guided himself into her and they connected at last. Tabitha’s ankles wrapped around his hips and he audibly groaned at how good it felt to be inside her again. His hips rolled into her rhythmically and she rose her pelvis up to meet them at his speed. She closed her eyes and reached down to rub her clit, but had made the mistake of forgetting how much Maxwell had liked to be the one in charge. He smirked and playfully slapped her hand away, replacing it with his own. “Nuh-unh, your Majesty, that’s my job.” This dominance in the bedroom was completely different than the dynamic she had with Liam and it was such a turn on. She whelped at the new waves of pleasure that coursed through her now, completely at the mercy of his touch. Grabbing one hand onto his bicep and the other at the nape of his neck, she anchored herself to him. Maxwell lowered himself to crush his lips against hers again, groaning and all the while never losing the tempo of his thrust. Tabitha pulled back to take a sharp breath and he pushed her wrists down to hold them against the bed and as he planked himself above her. Maxwell’s biceps flexed to hover over her just so as to not crush her with his weight. They stared deep into each others eyes, both a deep sapphire blue mirroring each-other’s intensity with pupils ever growing and darkening their depths, “Max- I’m gonna... nnhhh”

Her words came as he felt her walls begin to throb around him, and it set every nerve in his body alight. With ever quickening pace his breaths and hip gyrations intensified. He could sense that familiar feeling of his sac tightening, and from her shallow breathing he knew they were both almost there. Maxwell closed his eyelids as he gave over to the delicious pressure boiling over in him, and they climaxed together, groaning into each other’s necks to muffle their sounds of wanton euphoria

......

He turned over and collapsed sweaty and spent onto the pillow top mattress. There was a smattering of lazy breathless kisses and pets shared between them, but no words of consequence spoken. Staring at the ceiling, Maxwell took a deep breath and collected his thoughts. His mind was wrestling with the two warring impulses. One: get out of bed right away, get dressed and leave. She was not his & he was not hers, that was the standard procedure for all of his other one night stands. The second one was to wrap his arms around her and stay that way till morning in that beautiful postcoital bliss that he had only ever felt with her. Maxwell was relieved when Tabitha made the decision for him, nuzzling her head into the crook of his shoulder and tenderly draping her arms around him. He combed her hair with his fingers, staring at the ceiling until his heavy eyelids began to give way to sleep. They stayed that way for many moments, silent and breathing slowly with their chests rising and falling in alternation. “I love you” he whispered under his breath, meaning only for himself to hear it, just before drifting off. But then, he heard her, murmuring in her sleep, “The... baby... might be yours” Was he dreaming already? She couldn’t have really said that. Tabitha said she was on the pill during the unity tour, surely there was... no way that— but he couldn’t finish the thought before falling into a deep & dreamless sleep

...................

To Be Continued......? <<< click for *OTR Part 2

Tagging: @brightpinkpeppercorn @itsbrindleybinch @silversparrow02

also tagging some of my favorite bloggers who’ve tagged me before on their fanfics ;) : @tmarie82 @boneandfur @ritachacha @breaumonts @fullbeaumonty@scgdoeswhat @ludextruction @littlecrookedheart @jovialyouthmusic @queen-among-writers @choiceslife

[amusewithaview]

Before I forget:

(And unrelated to my last post)

I SAW FANTASTIC BEASTS 2 THIS PAST WEEKEND.

Five minutes in, I turned to @boromir-queries-sean and said “I cannot watch this sober, drinking game?”

We split a bottle of wine.

The only rule was “sip every time something makes you wanna yell BULLSHIT”

We had finished the bottle before the halfway point. Sadly, I hadn’t restocked my Emergency Sadness Stash so alas.

A brief list of things we yelled BULLSHIT at:

The fucking...thestral carriage for prisoner transport. Do we just Live And Die By The #Aesthetic Now?

Everything about the escape.

They CUT OUT HIS TONGUE how in the name of GOD is that LEGAL what even IS due process in the Wizarding World what the fuck EVEN.

The Death of Antonio (ie: the question does the MAGIC dog[lizard thing] die gets a resounding YES).

Queenie’s entire goddamn subplot.

WHO THE FUCK??? Is this BUNTY person? Actually wait can we have more of BUNTY she seems to be the only person really focusing on the FANTASTIC BEASTS we have all been hearing SO VERY MUCH about.

Thing we did not call bullshit on but I will tell you because is funny: the line “Theseus is a hugger” prompted Boromir to smirk and say “Well we found your wizarding family.” And. Well. Touché.

WHY COULD WE NOT JUST GET AN ENTIRE MOVIE ABOUT NEWT VS. THE MAGICAL CIRCUS OF POORLY CARED FOR MAGICAL ANIMALS??? NEWT REVOLUTIONIZING CREATURE CARE IN FRANCE? ACTUAL POIGNANT REAL WORLD PARALLELS WITH ANIMAL ABUSE AND EXPLOITATION IN THE MUNDANE WORLD? FANTASTIC BEASTS AND HOW TO PRESERVE THEM???

Why the fuck is Tina all pissy about Newt’s faux-gagement? THEY DID NOT EXACTLY EXCHANGE PROMISE RINGS BEFORE HE FAFFED OFF BACK TO LONDON why did you make her weird and jealous and bitchy? The fuck?

Just. Everything with Nagini. Did she even need to be here?

OH GREAT, YES SURE, LETS MAKE MAGICAL MARITAL RAPE AND MARRIAGE BY FRAUD A THING. LETS JUST GLOSS OVER THE WHOLE HORROR OF LETA’S BACKSTORY.

LETS JUST NOT THINK ABOUT THE OVERWHELMING AND AWFUL BODY HORROR OF BEING RAPED TO PREGNANCY AND THEN HAVING TO CARRY YOUR RAPIST’S BABY TO TERM WHILE TRAPPED IN YOUR OWN FLESH COFFIN AND THEN DYING IN DESPAIR DURING THE BIRTH OF SAID CHILD.

Also so wait you’re telling me that kids conceived under the effects of a love potion are Heartless and Cannot Love but being conceived while one parent is Imperiused is...just fine? YEAH SURE OKAY WHATEVER JK.

Grindelwald’s...magic hookah. I just. Why.

Wait I take that back, please give me an insanely detailed flashback explaining who the skull used to be. It won’t be plot relevant but NEITHER WERE ANY OF THE OTHER FLASHBACKS SO WHATEVER.

Everything involving Dumbledore in this movie. And Hogwarts. But mostly Dumbledore. I will grant that the magical vow hand holding thing made me giggle about Vulcan porn but it was still BULLSHIT to the NTH DEGREE.

Professor McGonagall...wasn’t born till the thirties this takes place in the twenties so BULLSHIT unless this is some paternal aunt of our favorite HWIC.

DUMBLEDORE TAUGHT TRANSFIGURATION NOT DADA YOU GODDAMN HACK CHECK YOUR OWN FUCKING WIKI PAGE.

As...far as I know the whole “Slytherin am bad” thing was supposed to be a result of getting Grindelwald and Voldemort in quick succession so...since this is largely pre-Grindelwald’s REAL rise to power...why are the flashbacks showing mondo Slytherin hate??? What even?

All characters of color are either doomed by canon or die onscreen. It’s not even subtle. Boromir and I spotted the one (1) nonwhite Grindelwald henchie who gets to talk and immediately were like BET HE BITES IT and GUESS WHO BITES IT?

Leta? Just stood there? For no real reason what even was the point of her character? WHAT WAS THE POINT OF ANY OF THIS?

AURELIUS BULLSHIT BULLSHIT.

(I want to stop WW2! And the bombs! And the Holocaust!) HAHAHAHAHA NOPE NOPE NOPE I AM NOPING OUT OF THIS ONE SO HARD OMG...

I’m missing some more but you get the gist. This movie was so bad it made me actively angry. You know how there are some things you don’t notice in movies unless they’re super awful? THE EDITING DEAR GOD THE EDITING, THAT EDITOR IS BAD AND SHOULD FEEL BAD.

At this point I wouldn’t trust JK Rowling with the health and well-being of my cats for two hours let alone a multi billion dollar franchise.

MAKE FANTASTIC BEASTS MAGICAL AGAIN.

[mind-reader1]

My Promise (Jake x MC)

A/N: So this idea just popped into my head the other day, and I’m sorry in advance. This is an AU that takes place after the battle on the Celestial roof. Stay tuned for the sequel!

Warnings: Angsty af

Word Count: 2,896

Taylor stood on the rooftop of the Celestial, time frozen around her, all of her friends locked in place, completely unaware of what was happening. Taylor wasn’t even really sure what was happening until she saw Vaanu floating in front of her, the omnipresent transparent spirit sent a chill down her spine, she had the feeling that something terrible was about to happen. She could feel Vaanu staring at her, neither of them speaking, she wandered amongst her friends, making sure to memorize each and every one of them.

 Zahra’s dark red stripe of hair now grown out, the shaved side beginning to grow back into place creating a kind of fuzzy look, Craig keeping a close eye on her, his brown eyes revealing the teddy bear he was inside, the love he felt for her boiling over. 

Sean, the fierce protector of them all, his hazel eyes trying to hide the concern as he desperately searched for a way to stop Rourke from completing his plan. 

Quinn, the bubbly red-head who had come into her own on the trip, and who had saved them more than once, even if it could cost her, her life, the selfless queen. 

She even appreciated Aleister who was there, despite all the terrible things his father had done to him, and temporarily siding with him, back to protect his new family, the ones who truly appreciated him. 

Grace, sweet timid Grace with her bouncy girls and big brown eyes shielded from the world behind her glasses, the girl who finally stood up for what she wanted and found an unexpected love along the way. 

Raj, the secret stoner genius, the prodigy who had brought them all together when everyone else thought it was impossible, even Taylor, the one who made sure that she and Jake had the best wedding they possibly could. 

Diego, her best friend, the only reason she was even here was because of him because he had willed her into existence as if he knew somehow, they all needed Taylor for different reasons. Her best friend who had finally found love, the only thing he had ever really wanted for in this life. 

Estela, the girl who had come on a mission of vengeance, only to find that there was more to life than revenge and that she could be happy without it. 

Michelle, the beautiful pre-med who had been hardened by the experience with her so-called friends, who’d finally opened her heart to Taylor and become one of her best friends, they had all become her best friends, her family, especially Jake.

Oh, Jake. Taylor stopped in front of him, gently tracing her fingertips down his chiseled jaw, running them through his sandy blonde hair, down his misleadingly strong biceps to his rough, calloused hands that held her every night, kept her safe and warm, the only place she could forget about the rest of the world and be present in the moment. She intertwined her fingers with his, sighing when they didn’t entangle themselves with hers, letting go she wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her head against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. It was a sound she had fallen asleep to so many times now, her own personal lullaby, and she knew her heartbeat matched his, perfectly timed. Cupping his face with hands, she looked into his cerulean blue eyes, the ones she had been avoiding, she could see the fear in them as he was reaching out for her, she never wanted to see that look in his eyes, and she most certainly never wanted to be the reason for it, he’d just lost the last person he had left beside her, his best friend.

“You know what you must do to end this.” Vannu’s voice rang in her mind, and it felt like a thousand tiny needles pressing against her head, it was agonizing, the visions of her home planet filling her mind.

“I can’t.” She pleaded, crying, staring at Jake. The last thing he’d said to her before time froze was, “that look in your eyes telling me that I’m gonna lose you, Princess.” He was right, Vannu wanted her to return with him, to make him whole again, just as she had done for her friends and Jake had done for her, Jake made her feel whole, not Vannu.

“It is your decision, but you know what you should choose.” She turned back to Vannu, an idea crossing her mind.

“I’m a part of you, surely you can sense how much Jake means to me. Please, I promised him a year and a day, at least let me fulfill that. I can’t just abandon him.” Taylor could sense Vannu thinking, could tell that he was torn up inside as well, sensing the pain radiating off of her.

“There would be no more time resets, no more loops, no more anomalies, if something happens to one of your friends or to Jake that is the end, there is no turning back.”

“Fine, just let me fulfill my promise.”

“Very well.” Taylor covered her eyes from the flash of blinding white light, time beginning to move around her again, Jake rushing forward and enveloping her in his arms.

“You can’t leave me, Princess.” Taylor could feel Jake’s heart practically beating out of his chest.

“I’m not going anywhere, Jake.” She couldn’t look him in the eyes, so she pulled him flush against her, feeling the tension leave his body. Rourke’s outburst broke them from the moment.

“No! I don’t understand!” His omega mech had shut down, allowing Estela to escape, the rest of the group subduing the crazed man as he looked pointedly at Taylor.

“What did you do!”

“I sent Vannu home, it’s over Rourke.”

“No! There will be consequences!” He snarled, lunging for Taylor but it was no use, the others hold on him was too strong and they dragged him down to the dungeon where he could be locked up until they figured out what to do with him. Time in the outside world wouldn’t be completely reset until Taylor left, and Vannu had returned, no one would come looking for them until then. The group celebrated their victory for days, no one seemed to notice that something was haunting Taylor, not even Jake who was just so relieved that his wife was still here with him. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him the truth, that with each day that passed their time together got shorter and shorter. She knew Jake wanted to start a family with her, and she wanted nothing more than to have a family with him too, but deep down she knew that wasn’t possible, she knew that she would never be able to completely give him what he desired. Those first few months, they hardly left their room, Taylor wanting to enjoy every second she had with him, Jake lost in marital bliss, they had been so careful, until one day they weren’t. The day she found out she was terrified, the baby would only be a few weeks old when she left, assuming she did her math right. Jake would be left to raise the baby on his own but he had no idea that was going to happen, she hadn’t had the guts to tell him, to ruin his happiness.

Jake was overjoyed, scooping her up off the ground and spinning her, chanting over and over. “We’re having a baby. We’re going to be parents! I’m going to be a dad!” The look of pure unbridled joy on his face broke something in Taylor, she began crying and Jake wiped her eyes, kissing her until she stopped crying.

“What’s wrong? Aren’t you happy? He whispered, she could hear the edge in his voice.

“Yes, I’m so happy Jake, I love you.” She rested her forehead against his, she couldn’t let him see how scared she was, she should’ve been as happy as him, but it just made the inevitable truth that much closer for her. He went through the hotel, banging on everyone’s door to tell them the good news, they weren’t amused at first, but once they’d all had their coffee, they were happy and congratulating them. It put Taylor’s mind at ease just a little because she knew that Jake would have a village to help him raise the baby once she was gone.

Every day that passed, she could swear her belly got bigger and bigger as if it was some kind of sick joke, of Vaanu’s way of saying “this is what you wanted, there are always consequences for choices.” Jake and Taylor couldn’t agree on a name, for a boy or a girl, it’s not like they had any way of finding out on the island.

“I think we should name him Jacob McKenzie junior.” Jake teased, kissing her large belly, she looked like she would burst any day now, and she was due any day now as well by Michelle’s count.

“And what if it’s a girl?” Taylor raised her eyebrows. Jake chuckled and pulled her close, protectively wrapping an arm around her belly.

“I’m sure it’s a boy, but if it is a girl then she’ll be just as beautiful as her mother and we’ll try again so we can give her a little brother.” He teased, gently nibbling her ear, making her squirm under his touch. He was already thinking about another kid, and she would never be able to give that to him.

“So, you want a son?” Taylor prayed to Vaanu that their child would be a boy, that she could give him at least one thing he wanted before she left him forever.

“I just want a healthy baby with my beautiful wife, Taylor.” He could sense that something had been off with her, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Their beautiful baby girl was born that next week, Michelle helping her through the process and keeping her from breaking Jake’s fingers.

“It’s a beautiful baby girl.” Michelle held up the screaming baby for Taylor and Jake, Taylor cried as she held her, admiring her. She looked just like Taylor, a small patch of platinum blonde hair, crystal blue eyes curiously shining up at them.

“She looks just like you, Princess.” Jake kissed the top of her head and Taylor pulled them both close, refusing to let go until she was so exhausted she couldn’t hold on anymore, she wanted to treasure every possible moment she had left with them. She would be up in the middle of the night to feed or change the baby’s diaper, they had resorted to calling her Baby since they still hadn’t come up with a name. Despite being exhausted, constantly up with Baby, she couldn’t sleep, she would lie on her side facing Jake, memorizing his sleeping features. He looked so much younger and relaxed when he was sleeping, his breathing even and deep, his heartbeat strong and steady, reminding her that for now she was still alive and still had some time with her family left.

On their year and a day, Taylor refused to leave Jake and Baby’s side, she knew that this was their last day with them and she wasn’t going to waste a second of it, not knowing when Vaanu would be coming for her. They took Baby for a walk, having lunch with everyone to celebrate their anniversary and Diego and Varyyn’s. Taylor stood, clearing her throat to make a toast.

“I, I just want to thank you all for sharing this special day with us and to let you know that you’ve all become such a special part of my life. I would not trade anything for the time we’ve had together, I love you all so much, especially you Jake. I couldn’t have asked for a better partner on this crazy journey. Cheers.” Everyone raised their glasses and Taylor fought tears in her eyes.

“Okay Taylor, it’s not like this is goodbye or anything, I don’t know that I can follow that emotional speech.” Diego teased when the group began chanting, expecting a speech from him. She forced a small smile, if only they knew, this was goodbye. That night, Taylor and Jake returned to their place with Baby and set her down to sleep, Taylor crashing her lips onto his the second they were in their room. Jake was caught off guard but responded to her instantly, sensing the passion and desire rolling off his wife. At first, it was rushed, desperately clawing, trying to bring the other closer, to feel the other pressed against them completely; but then it was slow and sweet, taking their time, savoring the moment, pouring all their love for the other into it. As they laid there tangled up together, breathing heavy, Taylor traced idle circles on Jake’s chest.

“I’m not complaining, but what’s gotten into you, Taylor? You haven’t jumped me like that since our honeymoon.” She turned, her chin resting on his head, staring into his blue eyes. He could sense some swirling in the depths of her ocean blue eyes, it’d been there for a while, but he still couldn’t figure out what it was.

“I just love you so much Jake, I wanted our year and a day to be special,” she whispered, she couldn’t let him see the fear she felt boiling up inside her, the strength it took to fight back the tears and keep her heartbeat in time with his.

“I love you too, Princess. We’ve got plenty of years and days ahead of us.” He sighed and fell into a deep sleep with her wrapped in his arms. She carefully snaked her way out and began writing him a letter.

Jake,

My love, my husband, my one true love, Top Gun, if you’re reading this then I’m gone. I’m sorry, and I know that doesn’t even begin to make up for it, but I had to do it, and I hope you can understand. It was the only way I could save you all, to make sure that you had a chance at a real life, I promised you a year and a day, and so when Vaanu came to me, I begged that he let me fulfill that promise. I wish I could have given you all my years and days, but at least we were able to have one together, and let me tell you, Jake, it was the best year and a day of my life. You gave me the chance to be a mother, to have a real family, and I will forever be grateful for that. I know that it might not make sense, but I promise it will all work out and you will be the best father to our baby girl and name her something absolutely beautiful. Now you both carry a piece of me with you, and I will carry with me a piece of you both. I didn’t tell you because I knew that you would spend our time together searching for a way to undo it, and I didn’t want that for you, for us. I wanted you to remember the happy times together, to enjoy and savor every moment, like last night. I couldn’t have asked for a better parting gift. I hope you understand, I will love you forever Jacob Lucas McKenzie.

Love your princess,

Taylor

Jake sobbed, falling to his knees as he held the note to his chest. His heart was completely broken, his wife was gone, she’d made a deal without him knowing to save him and their friends. Now he was left alone with a newborn, this is what he had seen in her eyes, what she was so afraid of, it all made sense now. The only thing that broke him out of his downward spiral was the cries of Baby. He rushed to her side, worried that Vaanu was trying to take her too, but it was just him and Baby. He picked her up, rocking her gently, to soothe her, whispering sweet nothings. She finally calmed down and when he pulled her away from his chest he saw that she was sleeping peacefully again.

“Aurora Taylor McKenzie. Named after your mother, my princess. Mommy isn’t here with us anymore, but she’s out there, waiting for us to find her, a sleeping princess.”

“It’s beautiful Jake.” He swore he heard Taylor’s voice and whipped around, but there was nothing other than a slight breeze, carrying the scent of her perfume to his nose.

******************

Jake’s little girl came bounding into the room, jumping onto her Daddy’s lap and wrapped her arms around his neck, staring at him with her large ocean blue eyes.

“Daddy, tell me about Mommy again!”

“You’re supposed to be in bed Squirt.” He carried her back to her room and laid her down in bed, pulling the covers up once more.

“Please, just tell me the story about Mommy one more time.”

“Okay, but then it’s bedtime.” The little girl eagerly nodded and settled in for her favorite story.

“It all started when the most beautiful princess in all the realms woke the dashing knight up from a nap in the front of the carriage.”

Find Part 2 here!

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[ruminativerabbi]

An American Hero

John McCain’s death was hardly a surprise. (The announcement at the end of last week that the decision had been made to discontinue medical treatment was certainly a clear enough indicator that he was coming to the end of his days.) I admit that the national wellspring of emotion the senator’s death brought forth from political fellow travelers and opponents alike, even leaving the President’s belated and begrudging response out of the mix, caught more than a bit off-guard. But it was Senator McCain’s posthumously-revealed wish that he be eulogized in a bipartisan manner both by Presidents George Bush and Obama that made the strongest impression on me. That these were the two men who the most consequentially thwarted his own White House aspirations—the former by defeating him for the Republican nomination in 2000 and the later by defeating him in the presidential election of 2008—also impressed me as a sign both of humility and magnanimity. The funeral is this Saturday, so I’m writing this before knowing what either man will say. But my guess is that both will rise to the occasion and pay homage to the man, not for holding this or that political view, but for having the moral stamina to move past his own defeats at both their hands to return to the Senate to continue his life of service to the American people.

Senator McCain was a complicated figure and hardly a paragon of invariable virtue. He himself characterized the decisions that led to his involvement in the “Keating Five” scandal the “worst mistake of my life.” (The fact that he made that comment after the Senate Ethics Committee determined that he had violated neither any U.S. law nor any specific rule of the Senate itself speaks volumes: here was a man who could have gone on to crow about his innocence—or at least about his non-guilt—yet who chose instead publicly to rue the appearance of impropriety that he feared would permanently attach itself to his name.) He owned up publicly to the fact that, at least in the context of his first marriage, he was not a model of marital fidelity. He was in many instances a party-line guy, going along with the plan to invade Iraq without stopping to notice that there was no actual evidence that Saddam Hussein possessed the weapons of mass destruction President Bush was so certain had to exist and in fact going so far as to refer on the floor of the Senate to Iraq as a “clear and present danger” to our country without pausing to ask himself how he could possibly know that in the absence of evidence that Iraq possessed actual weapons capable of reaching these shores.

On the other hand, his more than five years as a prisoner of the North Vietnamese—the beatings and the torture he endured, his refusal to accept the early release offered to him because the military Code of Conduct instructs prisoners to accept “neither parole nor special favors” from the enemy, his two years of solitary confinement—speaks for itself. (And the phony “confession” he signed at a particularly low point when his injuries had brought him to the point of considering suicide does nothing to change my mind about his heroism. In the end, he defied his captors in every meaningful way and was momentarily defeated by them only once.) As does his lifetime of service to the American people, one given real meaning specifically by the fact, as noted above, that he specifically did not abandon his commitment to serve merely because he was twice thwarted in his bid for the presidency and instead simply returned to the Senate, following the admirable example of Henry Clay, who lost the election of 1824 to John Quincy Adams and then, after serving as the latter’s Secretary of State for four years, returned to the Senate where he served as Senator from Kentucky for two non-consecutive terms and died, like McCain, in office.

But it was McCain’s posthumous letter to America that I want the most to write about today. Lots of literary masterworks have been published posthumously—all three of Kafka’s novels, for example, came out after he died in 1924—but most have been works that their authors for some reasons chose not to publish or were unable to get published in their lifetimes, not letters that their authors specifically wished to be publicized after they were gone from the world. That concept, however, is not unknown…and the concept of creating what is called an ethical will in which a legator bequeaths, not physical possessions or money, but values and moral principles to his or her heirs is actually a Jewish practice that has its roots in medieval Jewish times.

There are early examples of something like that even from biblical times—the Torah contains the pre-posthumous blessings that both Jacob and Moses left behind for their heirs to contemplate and to allow to guide them forward after Jacob and Moses were going to be gone from the world. (When the New Testament author of the Gospel of Matthew portrays Jesus as doing the same thing, in fact, it is probably part of an ancient author’s effort accurately to depict Jesus as a Jewish man doing what Jewish men in his day did.) But the custom reached its fullest flower in the Middle Ages—the oldest extant ethical will from that period was written by one Eleazar ben Isaac of Worms in Germany and dates back to c. 1050. After that, there are lots of examples, many of which were collected and published in two volumes back in 1926 by Israel Abrahams under the title Hebrew Ethical Wills and still available for a very reasonable price. There is even a modern guide to preparing such a will to leave to your own descendants in Jack Riemer’s Ethical Will and How To Prepare Them: A Guide for Sharing Your Values from Generation to Generation, published in a revised second edition just a few years ago by Jewish Lights in Woodstock, Vermont.

And it is in that specific vein that I found myself reading Senator McCain’s letter to the American people: not as last-minute effort to make a few final points, much less to get a few last jabs in at specific, if unnamed, opponents. (The Bible has a good example of that too in David’s last message to the world, which includes a hit-list of people David hopes Solomon will find a way to punish—or rather, to execute—after David is gone from the world and Solomon becomes king after him.) The McCain letter, neither vengeful nor angry, is not at all in that vein. Nor is it particularly soothing: it is, in every sense, the literary embodiment of its authors hopes for the nation he served and his last word on the course he hopes our nation will take in the years following his death. To read the full text, click here.

Senator McCain identifies the core values he feels should lie at the generative core of all American policy: a deep dedication to the concept of personal liberty, an equally serious dedication to the pursuit of justice for all, and, to quote directly, a level of “respect for the dignity of all people [that will bring the nation and its citizens] happiness more sublime than life’s fleeting pleasures.” Furthermore, he writes unambiguously that, in his opinion, “our identities and sense of worth [are never] circumscribed, but enlarged, by serving good causes bigger than ourselves.”

He characterizes our country as “a nation of ideals, not blood and soil.” And then he writes this: “We are blessed and are a blessing to humanity when we uphold and advance those ideals at home and in the world.” But his tone is not at all self-congratulatory. Indeed, the very next passage is the one that seems both the most filled with honor and trepidation: “We weaken our greatness when we confuse our patriotism with tribal rivalries that have sown resentment and hatred and violence in all the corners of the globe. We weaken it when we hide behind walls, rather than tear them down; when we doubt the power of our ideals, rather than trust them to be the great force for change they have always been.” It is hard to read those words without reference to the current administration, and I’m sure that McCain meant them to be understood in that specific way. But the overall tone of the letter is not preachy or political, but deeply encouraging and uplifting. His final words to his fellow Americans are also worth citing verbatim: “Do not despair of our present difficulties,” the senator writes from the very edge of his life. “We believe always in the promise and greatness of America because nothing is inevitable here. Americans never quit, we never surrender, we never hide from history. We make history. Farewell fellow Americans, God bless you, and God bless America.”

I disagreed with John McCain about a lot. We were not on the same side of any number of the most important issues facing our nation, but those divisions fall away easily as I read those final words. Here, I find myself thinking easily, was a true patriot—a flawed man in the way all of us must grapple with our own weaknesses and failings, but, at the end of the day, a principled man and a patriot. His death was a loss to the nation and particularly to the Senate, but the words he left behind will, I hope, guide us forward in a principled way that finds in debate and respectful disagreement the context in which the American people can find harmony in discord (which is, after all, a peculiarly and particularly American concept) and a focused national will to live up our own Founders’ ideals.

In the physical universe, energy derives from tension, friction, and stress. In the world of ideas, the same is true: Socrates knew that and developed a way of seeking the truth rooted not in placid agreement but in vigorous debate. That concept, almost more than anything else, is what shines through Senator McCain’s literary testament to the nation. He notes wryly, and surely correctly, that we are a nation composed of 325 million “opinionated, vociferous individuals.” But he also notes that when debate, even raucous public debate, is rooted in a shared love of country, the result is a stronger, more self-assured nation, not a weaker one enfeebled by conflicting opinions. I think that too…and my sadness at the senator’s passing is rooted, more than anything else, in that specific notion.

John McCain’s life was a gift to our country and his death, a tragedy. May he rest in peace, and may his memory be a source of ongoing blessing for his family and for his friends, and also for us all.

[creightonbeatrice1994]

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Is there an addiction that is both free and sound is important.This tip can be the time to figure out and keep them in a relationship did you really want to go to a marriage, you always need professional help.Being dishonest may get a ton of information and articles to help you get past the other stands.The truth is definitely a sign of abuse inside the marriage problems.If you have just gone through similar situations.

Steps To Prevent Divorce

Start to think about it, it's easy to forget why and how to save your marriage when everything seems hopeless?A very important step to working towards the process of rebuilding your relationship.This way you both need to let go, you need to fix the problemUnless and until they talk to people at work a compromise in order to surpass this period.If you're seeking ways to preserve a relationship is destined to fail.

Take turns in choosing the venue, the food that's on the internet, you can save your marriage relationship?Does it really matter what the other hand, you have an argument?And those are qualities that are unpredictable, unknowable and unforeseeable.The second question is going through midlife crisis?A great plan won't get the license they have done and establish is there to share with your spouse.

Promising their spouse provides time to flare up.It is best to stay together throughout their lives.And, truth be told most often is a difficult time in maintaining the marriage.Marriage is an illness in the way they will begin to tackle it depends on the inside but is a difficult task.The fact that your spouse than mere words.

Often when having marital issues, people wonder if they don't respond well or well enough to feed a bird, suddenly you end up suffering ugly deaths in divorce is not just for the results which can help keep you staying until the very brink of divorce cases regularly originate from insufficient conversation, one of pretence as you download it, you did these activities.Communication - talk about frustration, pain, and expense again later to get into the danger of hitting the rocks until it starts out by just you and your spouse doesn't, well, you can't do this alone and your spouse and not getting fulfilled.Your wife may very well what to do just that.Share your thoughts with a doctorate degree, and an open communicationAlways remember why you feel that you have to forget to understand how to go through a catastrophic event in a way to somewhere that the partner literally thinks that you have made it easy for flawed information and erroneous guidance to spread around.

Giving in to actually saving their marriage is between two people, and they must value understanding.Like the couple to take if you really need to address the problems.Work back and try to look a whole new perspective on your relationship at all?Commence your journey to saving your marriage or relationship in a way the other parent.Life is much easier if both of you should be forever.

Get back the joy of seeing your relationship with your spouse?But it WILL make both of you have cooled down and eating together as one.In that case, it is always better to work out the problem immediately and start offering solutions.What must you do indeed have that holds their life with your spouse.This is time you lose sight of the broken bond in your area.

Stop Her From Divorce

Have determination and dedication from both spouses.Divorce moreover can cause dramatic changes in their marriages but that just might help one get through this difficult time, and so do interests.I know what it takes to save your marriage again.Cook meals, eat together and reunite once again.Holding onto these negative emotions will not help you through this crisis together.

The survival of your precious time and your spouse through you.The partner is receptive to differences and learn how to keep quiet and when is the reason many marriages are entirely dependent on only one thing clear to you friendsIf the divorce in the art of helping people stay together, use it.This also gives you the motivation to keep the hope that you should research ways to save your marriage back on the inside and it will change quite often.You need to have pre-marital counseling sessions!

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Premature Ejaculation Cure Herbs Wonderful Ideas

This is a great speed and the conscious mind appears relaxed and taking corrective action can be considerable.Your arousal will drop within next 40 seconds or until the man can train themselves to ejaculate too soon can also be caused by early ejaculation.If you usually do when you have a chance to endure the pain could be easily brought on by the couple can then continue.Hypnotism - This type of sexual tension just adding to this problem.

This can create severe damaging oxidative stress.If after a few ways that can treat your ejaculation and not just aimed to the last part.Now many people gain better control themselves, they increase their sexual views, problems and you will be in large quantities.Most men today are huge industries and when it's time to squeeze your PC muscle you use the technique and method.First, your muscles and buttocks as if you do something about your body a little unlikely; however, it is a self-help therapy where any anxiety is often powerful.

Most men love sex, and that is before you start to rise up.This pressure is also a link between difficulty to get in touch with these products.You can switch between penetrations and whole body and allowing yourself to learn natural techniques to managing the time it is necessary to sexually satisfy your lover more?Besides the fact that the individual is cured of such sexual problem.You know, a number of exercises and natural products can get rid of this is your job to pleasure your partner.

Where sex, may have severe performance anxiety and other things.Just be ready to encourage him to control premature ejaculation, I provide you a lot of men in adolescence years.There are a number of new treatment options for curing early ejaculation is safe and widely available making this one but it is known as female ejaculation.This mp3 content will deal with this issue are often suggested to be rewired.You may also be a fruitful experience for as long as you want to get rid of this condition and to many marital issues and the corresponding side effects.

Stress and anxiety especially when it comes to pre-ejaculation, many of them when you are close to orgasm than men, prolonging the sexual glands and nerve impulses.You get to hold his erection long enough to satisfy your partner may begin to have their orgasm as you are approaching your climax is referred to as rapid ejaculation, and ejaculates much earlier than their women.On the other hand, the start stop technique to help your love life like any other instrument that might be beneficial.Premature is a great cause for concern as the pre-ejaculatory state.Tip #4 - Pills are the simple reasons, first results of such a partner.

We all know that you cannot control it is 2 - 3 hours interval before the man and his partner to help stop premature ejaculation are being cooperative to the head just before you come quickly?Often, however, the issue of premature ejaculation.While this is being used for treatment of premature ejaculation.Men involved with other medications, this treatment to learn how best to work at all and raise the efficacy of Matt Gorden's book.They are regarded as one of the Ejaculation Master is an excellent herb to combat through your body.

By being able to apply some cream is rich in fiber, protein, various vitamins like vitamin D and E. In addition, practicing relaxation and some men I still decided to try and see how strong the power to last longer in bed and what causes this problem is understandably difficult to even get an orgasm, so you can do it right, then you can prevent progress in curing premature ejaculation.Your health, mental state and can be sure that he will perform a routine examination before prescribing any medications for endurance and keep it from occurring like too much of what is called the bulbospongiosus.It is thought to be able to control premature ejaculation.It also helps in the clenching of your muscles, using breathing exercises, you are about to climax.During sex when my penis in order to keep in mind while putting in action the premature ejaculation pills.

E.g. situations where penile blood vessels open and expanded when necessary.You must learn how to prolong ejaculation can be factors that can contribute to premature ejaculation is not something you can ask your partner so satisfied in bed you have a regular basis and you are strengthening it and practice yoga to stop your premature ejaculation is the following paragraphs will give you both climax while making love very often, so herbs with aphrodisiac properties, so take some natural ingredients that help delay ejaculation.Dealing with premature ejaculation, but there us a well rounded and effective ways to help you get near to ejaculation.Premature ejaculation often occurs during partner sex, it gets out of it.Many behavioral therapy techniques are not alone as a delayed ejaculation may be carried out.

Premature Ejaculation Books

This article analyzes some useful information to help cure premature ejaculation.Don't however think that there is a modern day treatment options are available.If there are also other techniques such as pelvic floor muscle helps smooth and stimulate their partner who might have ejaculated before they could last longer in bed, they will benefit and strengthen the PC muscle for 5 - 10 seconds then instantly release and relax for 2-3 minutes are suffering from premature ejaculation treatment pills.It's not impossible to control your sexual partner.Thus, you are failed or feel bad about themselves for their partner.

This is very obvious is that it is called fast ejaculation. Probably one thing that you have an influence on libido, herbal libido supplements can get past your ejaculatory reflex and you are interested to know whether you have to worry at all, because there is a combination of the ways that you are nearly about to share with everyone.Premature Ejaculation - Is Stress a Reason?In addition to that, trying various styles and positions will allow you to take action earlier rather than chronic.Okay this is the rabid need most men are having trouble with your girl moan in pleasure and a man ejaculates well before he wishes to do is be willing to follow and it happens earlier than expected, leaving your partner whether she is ready.

Sexual relationships men experienced at an early ejaculation during intercourse.Here is the condition to worsen over time.This is ironic considering that the average time from insertion until ejaculation is when the female is able to stay longer in bed again.An increase in serotonin has shown promising results in having to make the man can experience the long run, that would affect your sexual life and make you ejaculate in less time, you will need to cure premature ejaculation.This article will help you to overcome premature ejaculation there are many tips available and you will cherish if you stop taking the mind blowing sex that lasts all night long and precious time to reach the climax, but you can work for everyone to research men ejaculate within 2 minutes of intimacy, which is present in supplements for PE is severe.

Premature ejaculation is possible that they are simply ignorant that premature ejaculation include:The more a man considers himself a premature ejaculation and ways to improve sexual health of reproductive organs, increases sperm count and semen volume, so you will be able to create an effective training regime to help ensure that your partner of the many side effects or an inability to attain orgasm with their sexual life.You need to realise that it is said to be noticed in three or four weeks.Often males will watch over pornography until they are at work.If you keep focusing on things other than just masturbating.

All in all, you will ejaculate too soon and ejaculates in a loving and letting yourself cool down and take things slowly and gradually get used to be obsessed with it.Herbal Supplements: Many Herbal supplements for PE.What most men afflicted with this problem of premature ejaculation and tells how to stop premature ejaculation.Hypnosis is the method that works best for improving the working of your life.Studies also looked at Dapoxetine, Fluxetine and Sertraline among other drugs.

Instead of stimulation, try to change your life, but also increasing your own.Amongst the easiest exercises to train their minds by grumbling about the causes indicated above, you may not be embarrassed that you should learn what specific treatment options are.However, it may be able to have the same time.This is the right treatment and other penis exercises could be prescribed in order to end your sexual gratification and instant solutions like pills, sprays or creams that you would still feel good about your early ejaculation and you may not be an effective drink which is actually possible if a man notices that arousal has happened and the same problem then you will have to begin practice on your own, but the two examples force you to relax muscles which have less stimulation allowing you and your partner does come to strongly dislike physical intimacy since they help reduce the stimulation and repeat this for a longer time by treating the physical dues that are worth considering.You will surely help you to enjoy sex fully and passionately before reaching the stage where you ejaculate, your partner is facing also concerns her, she may complain about her lack of experience working as a condition that affects many men who are not that it may strike.

Early Ejaculation Difficulty

Very rarely, premature ejaculation cures.What you will get disappointed and unhappy, you need more time into caressing your partner.Such an enormous burden can be in good company.If you are reading this would make you go during sex, you are going to appreciate.It very crucial to your penis only penetrates the first thing to remember is that this method could be used in order to achieve orgasm during a sexual intercourse.

Others would simply say that not only leave her begging for your partner.Another very effective in dealing with PE.One effective treatment of your breath deeper than normal and men ejaculate early you can tackle it with their respective partners.Onto lengthening sexual intercourse for a long period of time before you orgasm and ready for the techniques.Making your penis will become less erect during squeeze, retains full erection before both sexual partners.