#cs two part fic

[snowbellewells]

Finished Work: “The Weight of the Crown (is a Feather on the Waves)”

At long last here is the conclusion to @kmomof4‘s birthday fic begun back in October. I am sorry it took so long Krystal, but I hope you will enjoy! 

Summary: Newly crowned Queen Emma must face her childhood friend, now arrested for piracy, and the responsibility to her crown and people weighs all too heavily on her shoulders. Killian may be a pirate, but there is more to the story than others know, and she can hardly bear to betray him now.

This is now (maybe?) almost M-rated in the second part. I’ll let you readers be the judge of that. The last two section breaks are where that occurs, so if you don’t want to read my attempts at a love scene stop at that next-to-last page break.

Link to Part One Here on Tumblr  

Also available on Ao3, if that is your preference....

Part Two

They were hardly out on the open sea, barely beyond her kingdom’s waters, when Emma - thrilled though she was to be reunited with her dearest friend and practically trembling with awareness at the feel of his calloused hand over hers on the wheel while he guided her through steering his ship - felt the pangs of guilt creeping into her awareness. She had abandoned her post, left her duty undone. The throne she had been raised to take over, the people she had been trained to rule, all her life, were left behind with those cold, unfeeling sycophants in her absence.

Her breath hitched in her chest, a choked sort of cry stifled inside her before it could make much sound, was either heard or felt by Killian all the same. Near as their bodies were pressed together at the helm against the crisp, strident wind coming off the waves, it was no real surprise he had caught the movement, but more than that, he had always possessed an uncanny ability to recognize her moods, knowing when she was angry, amused or troubled - sometimes before she could fully realize it herself.

“Come now, Swan,” he crooned softly at her ear, his free arm not helping to steer wrapped around her waist as his warm breath ruffled the loose curls blown free about her face by the wind. “Talk to me, Princess… you always could before.”

Emma swallowed, not sure where to begin or quite how to explain. It was the truth; once upon a time he had been her trusted ally - and she his as well - but this flight from her own land had been her decision. To free him and abscond herself, she had chosen that willingly, and she did not intend to make him feel as though he were at fault. Shaking her head slightly, Emma gave no response, though she did lean into his side where they stood together at the bow, relishing the comfort of his embrace on her wrought emotions.

It would seem, however  - just as when they were young - that Killian could not leave a problem at rest if it might be within his power to solve it. Merely holding her apparently would not do, even if for several quiet minutes they each soaked up the peaceful stillness in the warmth of each other’s presence after years apart. Yet, after an interval, his low voice husked once again, pleading gently but fervently, “Princess, please… let me in. I have not been away so long as to not know when you are troubled.”

Sighing, Emma turned just slightly, pulling away merely far enough to look into Killian’s eyes and trace a finger across his furrowed brow as he studied her with concern. She felt as if she no longer deserved the title, but the way he called her Princess, the way his beloved voice enveloped the honorific, warmed her to her very soul. Rather than flattery or forced obeisance, from Killian, it felt like the birthright it had always been meant to be.

“You need not call me that,” she finally whispered, looking away with a sense of shame. She could not have stood by and seen him sacrificed, not when she was the only person who could prevent it, but had she instead sacrificed all the other lives meant to be in her care?

“What… Princess?” he questioned, knowing what she meant, but having to be sure, because of course she was the Princess - his Princess - nothing could ever change that. “Why would you say such a thing?”

“I left my people to those vultures!” she spat, pushing from his arms and taking several steps away, to lean over the ship’s rail gulping lungfuls of the brisk, chill air, needing the distance to keep herself from sinking back into his arms and allowing him to soften the blow. “I acted out of my own wishes, fleeing what I could not bear, regardless of their needs. A-and even before that…I was only…pretending. I am not my parents… I could never be the ruler that they were together.”

Killian didn’t hesitate for even a second to follow her, trailing her along the ship’s railing and reeling her into the solid warmth of his chest once more, her nose tickled briefly by the hair peeking from the open collar of his shirt as she clung to his waist, breathing in the scent of him that she had almost forgotten with the years - salt of sea spray, a spicy musk, worn wooden planks, and fresh ocean breeze. She couldn’t help but feel some sort of pressure inside her release. Since her parents’ loss, and their state funeral, the rituals and decisions which had to be made, she had put up a shield, forced herself to remain strong, to cover the fear, the despair, the trembling grief rending her heart in two. She could ill afford to show weakness; she had to embody strength. Yet, there in Killian’s arms on the open water, so far from the court and the whispers and how she had been forced to hide, Emma could finally let go.

Before she knew it was coming, she was sobbing into his skin, melting at the feel of his strong hand gently stroking her back, soothing murmurs whispered into her hair.  The whipping wind and crashing waves hid the sound and swept her tears away as they fell. She could finally grieve, and it refused to be held back any longer.

“Let it out, Darling,” he crooned, swaying slightly with her enclosed safely in his grasp, only letting go enough to lightly stay their course with a slight turn of the wheel. He would be there for her in this moment. There was nothing he wanted more. It was why he had returned, risking his mission, his freedom, his very life, to do so. He had known what the loss of her mother and father would do to her, how alone she would feel, and yet how determined she would be to carry on. Never would he have expected anything less from the young royal he had grown up beside. He had missed much in the intervening years, including the joy of seeing her blossom into the stunning woman who had first met his eyes as he was brought before her throne for judgement.

Had it truly been just yesterday? His mind reeled at how quickly so much had changed, and he could only imagine the havoc playing on Emma’s emotions already wrung and strained to the limit by grief and isolation.

Still, there were some things time and distance did not change. Even as children, she had seen him no differently than herself or any of the other highborn youth she knew. He was accepted and valued as an equal, just as he knew she had been raised seeing her parents treat the youngest or most lowly of servants with the same respect given to the highest officials and visiting dignitaries. She had come by her goodness and fair, kind heart most naturally, and it had been nurtured by loving parents who saw that gentle grace as strength rather than weakness. Of course, she feared to fail those whom she saw as her responsibility with her parents’ loss. Killian would wish her to be no other way. Still, he hated to see her in pain and regretted that his capture while seeking to ascertain if she was well had meant such a wrenching decision on her part.

Letting her have all the time she needed (the heavens above only knew how long she had been damming such raw heartache and fear inside) he only spoke again beyond soothing murmurs when he felt her drawing a large, shaky breath to steady herself and her tears finally slowed.

“Emma, darling, please know that I am in awe of you - the risk you took, the sacrifice you made to save my unworthy hide.” Here he crooked his forefinger, placing it under her chin to tilt her face up to meet his eyes. Relieved when she offered a watery smile in return, he continued. “All the same, I do not expect to keep you from your birthright any longer than necessary. Nor would I force you to choose between myself and your beloved subjects who need you. It was never my intention to stay gone from Misthaven permanently…”

Emma shook her head uncomprehendingly, her mussed golden hair flying about her face in the breeze, even as he attempted to smooth it back for her solicitously. “But Killian,” she protested, “you cannot mean to return now. It would be suicide - or madness! They intended to force your execution!”

“Oh aye,” he affirmed, eyes glittering with a banked strength and cool calculation that sent shivers up and down her spine. “I know that is their goal. However, if we find what I have been seeking all this time, I will gain redemption, and we will end their covetous grasping for power once and for all.”

************** **************************** ***************

Emma’s blunt but eagerly intrigued questions in spite of her initial confusion had bolstered Killian’s confidence when he began to haltingly explain the proof he had sought, keeping him far from her for so long. Her brow scrunched in serious thought was utterly charming, leaving him absolutely unable to resist kissing that furrow lightly before he pressed on, illuminating the plot he believed he had uncovered.

In the years since he had known Emma well, since he had set sail with his brother, newly named Captain of his own ship, full of wide-eyed dreams and the naive belief of winning glory and proving himself worthy upon his return to seek her hand, much had changed. He often felt he could barely remember that young lieutenant with the entire world in front of him. Liam’s loss, and the treachery which had caused it, had changed his life’s trajectory. Killian had vowed in the pit of anger and despair that he would not return to Misthaven until he had physical proof in hand; the supporting evidence he needed to see justice done. And he had been sailing with that goal, wandering far from home and comfort, ever since. All the same, when, in some backwater dockside tavern, word reached his ears of the king and queen’s deaths - of the loss Emma had suffered - nothing else had mattered more than reaching her side. Now that they were reunited, it was time he confided in her; she deserved to know the truth he sought.

Even as his words had barely begun to spill from his lips, Killian felt some fraction of their weight lift from his shoulders. Emma seemed to understand their magnitude almost immediately, and looked up at him with unblinking devotion, not flinching or pulling away, but trusting his word without question. She didn’t interrupt with questions or reasoning at all, even when he spoke of the duplicitous nature of their mission learned too late and whom he suspected was responsible. Only when he choked out, voice faltering tremulously, how Liam had died in his arms, did she move at all, pulling him closer and running her fingers gently through the hair at the nape of his neck in silent comfort. His eyes closed involuntarily with unshed tears at the soothing gesture, sheer relief still flooding him merely at unveiling the hurt he had carried alone for so many years.

Her unswerving support and acceptance, the sense that Emma would stand behind him whatever he revealed bolstered him as he began to explain further - painful as it was, it was needed too, like lancing a festered wound. He was finally able to purge the haunting darkness that lingered over the memories of that special, top secret quest to a distant and long-forgotten island, and how Liam’s blind faith in the honor of their superiors had led to his demise. By the time he reached the realization he had come to - that he and his brother had been used as pawns and considered an acceptable loss - and revealed the blackguards he feared were still lurking in the naval hierarchy and the royal court as well, Emma’s fingers clutched his arms with a white-knuckled grip, her lips pressed firmly in a thin line. Yet, though she appeared pale and shaken, she clearly did not doubt him. He loved her all the more for it, even as his heart broke to shatter her good faith in some of those whom her own parents had trusted and she had been led to as well.

“Killian,” she whispered, eyes wide and the tiniest of tremors coursing through her as she looked to him almost plaintively. “Could these same people have caused my parents’ deaths as well? The sickness struck them both so suddenly, seemingly from out of nowhere. Would these villains’ treachery truly aim that high?”

Her words struck new resolve into his vow. Though he had long since sworn that he would not rest until Liam was avenged, seeing Emma’s pain, and knowing all too well that the villainy she suggested was entirely possible, renewed his commitment to justice - for his brother, his hero, and for her parents as well. He might still be without the tangible proof he needed to see those responsible punished, but he would get it. He knew it was out there. He hadn’t been able to find it alone, but together he knew they would. He would never stop fighting, and he had yet to see Emma fail.

Hating that his response would almost surely rip open anew wounds that were only barely beginning to heal, Killian sighed before looking her steadily in the eye. A quick, somber dip of his chin affirmed her query as well as his weighted “Aye” that followed.

Emma’s breath felt trapped somewhere in her throat at his affirmation. Those same advisors and nobles who had wanted her to hang this man beside her, his strong arms the only thing holding her together, were likely hiding the villain he sought. Grasping, devious jackals, they had clung onto her parents’ robes for years, snapping up any rewards and morsels they could get their hands on. Did they plot to topple the King and Queen for their own gain? What more could they be seeking? They’d been well taken care of - more than Emma had often thought they deserved. Could they really think she would grant them more? They had to know better… Or did they think she would be more easily misled? Fooled and towed along under their influence?

Her thoughts richocheted around inside her head; her breaths growing more rapid and labored before she even realized, until Killian gently murmured soothing nonsense in her ear, wrapped one arm more tightly around her shoulder and lead her over to where she could sit on a large barrel near his place at the wheel.

Suddenly though, she did not wish to be soothed. She wanted to charge back into her kingdom, into the throne room and demand the truth. Challenge them all, look them in the eyes, and discover any who had actually dared to repay her mother and father’s mercy and kindness with murder. She couldn’t bear to let the indignant fire burn low. It was not to be borne!

Once more it seemed he could read her mind. “Emma, love, I know the anger you’re feeling,” he began gently, not coddling her, but lingering within reach the moment she needed him. “Your parents were the best people I know… outside of Liam… and yourself, of course.”

She couldn’t help the way her heart fluttered at Killian’s warmth and sincerity in that admission, even as her ire rose again when he continued.

“They did not deserve such repayment for their generosity - nor did Liam in his trust and dedication. But do not give all over to vengeance. It’s a dangerous slope I have nearly fallen down too many times since Liam’s death. We must be strong, Love. We will see justice done, I swear it. But I will not see you lose who you are in the process.”

Tears burned against the back of her lids as she blinked rapidly, determined not to let more fall. She wondered almost dazedly how there could be any water left within her to cry. For months now, ever since her mother had followed her father into unconsciousness and it became frightfully clear they might not recover, that she might never again see their eyes open to gaze on her with the loving, doting expressions she had taken for granted all her life, she had felt so alone. She had held her head high as they planned the funeral service, chosen their final robes and garb, accepted expressions of loyalty and support from foreign leaders, and weathered suggestions and criticism from her own counsel. Through it all, she had held fast like a rock outcropping in a raging sea, buffetted and struck by waves over and again, yet unmoved, though she felt the wearing pressure with each strike. To have him there before her now, blue gaze burning intensely into her own, hands clasping hers tightly as if to even more fervently impress upon her the sincerity of his words. His vow was sealed, he would not be swayed whatever might come, and for Emma that was more than enough, more than she could have looked for. After barely holding the tattered pieces of her life together for so long with just her own two trembling hands, his support, his added strength, was everything to her in that moment.

And so, when he bent his head to lightly kiss her brow in reassurance, Emma tipped her head back, pushed up onto her toes and brought her lips to meet his instead. Her unexpected fervor lent her unerring accuracy, and as their mouths met, Emma felt a sense of rightness unlike any she had ever known. A shudder ran through Killian at the show of passion, but he didn’t pull away, with a low rumble of pleasure in his chest, he gathered her to himself and pressed further, delving into the kiss with a fire that stole her remaining breath.

There emblazoned against the sun burning on the far horizon, Princess Emma’s roiling, storm-tossed world righted itself again. She could see the course before her, with her pirate at the helm, standing at his side. And together, they would not fail.

************** ******************************* *************

It was some months later yet, when they sailed into Misthaven’s port once more. As Killian’s ship jauntily sliced through the lapping waves of the bustling harbor, seagulls crying overhead and his crewmen calling out to those on shore as they tossed out lines and manuevered toward an empty berth, Emma stood at the rail, eyes wide to take in every detail of her beloved homeland, anxious to see if there had been any noticeable changes. The salt breeze lifted her loose blond hair off her neck, and she turned her face into it, savoring the crisp, invigorating air and the freedom it whispered to her.

In truth, if she had not felt so responsible for things here, were she not duty bound to return and see wrongs made right, she would have stayed at sea with Killian forever. The shipboard life had more than agreed with her as days, and then weeks, had rolled by - it had been exhilarating. 

And, with a wry smile and knowing shake of the head, she conceded to herself as she glanced down at the looser, lighter garb she wore, Emma found herself humorously wondering if any of those in the cabinet she had left behind would even recognize her. She had to admit to herself that she did look more like the buccaneers around her on the Jolly’s deck than the sheltered princess she had been when she left. 

She had never imagined herself leaving Misthaven at all, but now it felt strange returning to her home. Perhaps the real truth was that her home had shifted. She let her gaze scan the wooden planks and spars until they found Killian’s form standing tall, directing his men, manning the wheel; capable, in chage, and electrically commanding all her attention the moment her eyes rested on his beloved face. Home was with him now; she had cast her lot as clearly as he had his own.

And then before she knew it, they were disembarking, her hand resting warily on Killian’s arm, alert to be sure none would move to take him from her before they had said their piece. His men remained with the ship, watching over it steadfastly until their captain returned, knowing none would dare board or try to take her from them.

All eyes on the long dock turned toward their wayward ruler as she walked on the arm of a known brigand, a criminal whose visage they must surely have seen gracing wanted posters from here to the castle. As they stepped off the gangplank, Emma forced herself to hold the gaze of any who met hers, to carry herself, not only as the returning monarch of her realm, but as the pirate queen she had just begun to find within.

She could feel Killian’s muscles tense beneath her fingers, coiled and ready for action at the slightest provocation or mere hint of a threat toward her. Even by touching only his wiry forearm, she took comfort in the vigilance and surety he radiated - even moreso as he placed his hook in clear view of any who might approach them. The false casualty of the way he held himself sent as clear a message as anything could that neither of them were to be trifled with - and that he had the ability to back up his unspoken threat.

The crowd along the wharf parted for them on either side as they made their way along the streets to the path which would lead them all the way to her castle. Emma could feel countless stares peppering her skin, but she merely kept her face forward, standing tall, her hand on Killian’s arm as they passed through the throng determined not to let any of her nerves or uncertainty show.

It seemed to take no time to reach their destination, and looking up at the familiar walls of strong, unyielding stone, Emma marveled that though it had been months, and she felt changed to her very core, the castle keep seemed as it ever had - unaltered in its grandeur, and familiar as if it had merely been awaiting her return. They were let in immediately by many of the same guards who had watched over Emma and her family all of her life, and though she stiffened at the mistrustful, cold stares directed her pirate’s way, no worse action followed, and they entered unmolested.

Emma knew the way, and she did not hesitate. She felt emotion rising deep inside her, but it was not fear of what they would face next, or fear of not being welcomed back to her rightful place. Instead, it was righteous anger and the churning in her gut calling for vindication - for Liam Jones, for her parents… and for Killian himself. They had found their proof at last, gained testimony form a witness who confirmed what Killian had always suspected. Vipers in their court, posing as friends while wrecking havoc and setting up a future for themselves, no matter the cost to those sacrificed on the way.

As they reached the Grand Hall, she clutching the vial in her hand and Killian with sworn witness statement in his grasp, Emma stormed into the council meeting she knew would be in progress. She would not wait, nor give the culprits any chance to sneak off and avoid capture. They had surprise on their side, and they would rapidly lose that as word traveled of their arrival.

The mammoth wooden doors swung back with a dull thud against the stone wall as Emma charged through, heedless of the commotion, and headed right into the midst of her arguing, overdressed advisors. Marching forward, she didn’t stop until she came to a halt right at the end of the large table where the others sat. Her green eyes flashed with righteous lightning, her lithe form straight and proud, and her shoulders back as she stared them all down with a magnificence that stole Killian’s breath. He could not take his eyes off her.

Her “Uncle” Grumpy stood awkwardly, spluttering and starting off, “Now, see here…” 

But it was not the angry man or his nervous looking brothers who held Emma’s attention. She was busy watching the reactions of Lady Bleu and Sir Sidney in particular. While Granny Lucas, and even traditional old Marco, at least had the decency to express their joy and relief at seeing her home and well, Emma studied the furtive glances and anxious squirming that sought to go unnoticed in those she already knew were guilty.

And when Lady Bleu stood from her seat at the head of the table, facing Emma, clearly having become council head in the new queen’s absence, opened her mouth to begin a falsely gentle reprimand about how things were done and barging in to disrupt a meeting’s progress, Emma was ready.

Though he had been searching longer, had given so much of himself, and had every bit as strong and just a claim, Killian only stood at her shoulder, a silent, firm support as she faced them all down. He knew she must show strength and leadership here, to take back what was rightfully hers from those who had plotted to wrest it away.

“You lost sight of ‘how we do things’ long ago,” Emma warned in a voice that brooked no condescension or subterfuge, not anymore. Holding up the vial in her hand, containing the poison for all those gathered to see. “This would not exist otherwise. My parents would still be here to guide us, as would Captain Liam Jones of their royal navy,” she intoned gravely.

It was obvious to all how Lady Bleu’s admonishments died on her tongure, and she sank wordlessly to her seat; not to mention how all color drained from Sir Sidney’s visage. Not a word or sound escaped his uselessly opening and closing mouth.

They had a captive audience then, and were not interrupted as Emma placed the deadly vial on the table and explained just what it could do - the damage it had already done. Even as she then ceded the floor to Killian to explain his part of the tale, one which went back much further than she knew, none of their listeners moved or seemed to breathe. Their claims from months ago that still rang in Emma’s ear and haunted her nightmares - that he was only a filthy, marauding pirate, not even deserving to live - seemed forgotten in the wake of the revelations and evidence he laid before them. Finally they knew, as Emma always had, that he had only deserted because his orders, his superiors, had been corrupt. He had gone rogue to find the truth and make things right.

In light of the knowledge they had procured, it did not take the rest of the council long to find the conspirators for the crown guilty, leading them away until they could be tried. Perhaps it made Emma cruel, but she could not deny the satisfaction she felt at Lady Bleu, Sir Sidney, and a few keys others she knew less well, being led away to the cells as Killian had been not so very long ago.

Looking over to him, Emma found her sailor already watching her with an awed and peaceful look in his eye - one she had not seen since he and his brother set sail on that fateful mission years ago. It was finally done. He had seen his vow fulfilled.

Tears started in the corner of Emma’s eyes, though they didn’t yet fall. She had not known to make such a vow, but the image of her mother’s kind hearted, hopeful face swam before her eyes just then, remembering all the times Queen Snow had told her daughter about their duty to their people, the privilege and honor they enjoyed, and the care and respect their subjects were due in return. To think that some of those Snow had most trusted in her mission to rule an honest and fair kingdom had betrayed her; had plotted the demise of one so pure of heart and devoted to their well-being, sliced Emma’s heart open anew. Yet, to think that she had aided in some small measure in seeing that poisonous root dug out and exposed once and for all… it was the best thing she could have done to honor her mother’s memory.

Killian’s face clearly showed he could read her thoughts and understood them only too well. They lingered just long enough to see that things would be stable until morning - and to be certain all were fully aware of Captain Jones’ full pardon, before they excused themselves for the night. Exhaustion both physical and mental was beginning to take hold, and there would be much more yet to do on the morrow.

It had been a long and arduous journey, but they could at last drop anchor and draw breath in peace. As they slipped below deck into his cabin, Emma drew strength from that, and for the moment let it be enough.

*************** ********************************* **************

Below decks as her captain lit a lamp and some candles to flicker gently against the darkness, and Emma could once more feel the easy rocking of the waves she had grown to love, tension and worry slid from her shoulders like a discarded cloak. She watched Killian move gracefully about the small space while she stood near his bunk, simply drinking him in with wide eyes, finally believing that the worst battle had been won, and they were still together, standing in his sacred space, readily made hers as well.

His gaze found hers across the room, and though there was still an echo of long-held grief within his eyes, there was affection and the sparkle of dawning joy in the stunning blue as well. A smile lifted one corner of his lips as he made his way toward her, one Emma returned with warmth suffusing her at his look and her heart fluttering madly in her chest.

He had long since discarded his leather great coat over the back of a chair, but now one-handed he was deftly unbuttoning the last few buttons he had bothered with at all, and his loose shirt fell open, exposing the dark hair that trailed down his firm stomach, the sight making Emma’s mouth go dry. Though she had been presented when she came of age, courted and wooed by eligible young royals and nobles from far and wide, she was still largely innocent when it came to men, Killian standing before her in his open shirt and simple breeches the most undressed she had ever seen one - anything else she knew came from extremely furtive research in the castle library and her own imagination.

Until this very moment in fact, when she found herself lightheaded and dizzy with what she could only assume was true need and desire, she had never wanted to see more of anyone else; her memories and dreams of the man standing before her now had been enough. Her pulse pounded wildly, hammering at her temple as he continued drawing closer, holding her in his thrall, until he soundlessly came to a halt right in front of her.

“Are you alright, Emma?” he murmured, bending to peer into her face more closely, concern at her speechlessness and rapid breathing clear on his countenance as he delicately brushed a stray hair back from her face.

She tried to find her voice, but still found herself nodding mutely in response; eyes drinking him in ravenously, but her mouth dry with nervous surprise and giddy anticipation; her tongue seemingly fused to the roof of her mouth.

“My Princess,” he added, his voice as much a caress as his fingers over the apple of her cheek, trailing down her neck, and skimming across her collarbone. The rough callouses from years hauling ropes, gripping the wheel, manning his ship through all weather and danger, were a delicious contrast to the soft delicacy of her own skin, and Emma shivered despite herself. Catching her lower lip between her teeth, she continued to hold her pirate’s gaze, pleading with him to continue his ministrations, which she had no words to explain. Her face flamed at her own brazen desire even as she stepped backward just once, enough to feel the bunk against the back of her knees, and then rose on tiptoes to press her bosom more fully into his wandering hand, mewling for a kiss until his mouth fully captured hers.

Killian’s eyes widened at Emma’s actions, a groan reverberating in his chest, almost pained to hesitate longer. When he swept his tongue between her willing lips, she gasped, trembling, but far from protesting leaned further into his arms, opening gladly as her eyes slid closed in bliss.

Clutching Killian’s arms to keep herself from collapse, Emma’s senses reeled at the onslaught he brought to life within. She felt at once burning from the inside out and doused in cool relief at finally knowing his passionate touch. It was nothing to fall back upon the thin mattress which had held her sailor all the nights they had been apart, and open her arms for him, welcoming him to her embrace in turn. She felt chills at being parted from his warmth for even a second after the inferno he had stoked in her veins, and she could only feel euphoria when he lunged forward, covering her with his long, lean frame once more.

Drawing a shuddering breath, Emma brought both hands to cradle Killian’s scruffy cheeks between her palms, searching his waiting expression and lovingly stroking her thumb along the trace of the scar beneath his right eye.

“My Love?” Killian whispered, his breath bearing warm concern as he voiced the question.

“Yes, Killian,” she murmured, nodding vigorously and pulling him closer still, both answering his soft address and granting him permission, giving him all, and urging him on, at once. “Please…”

The smile which broke over Killian’s face then was incandescent, crinkling up the corners of his eyes and transforming his entire aspect to pure joy. “Oh, my Swan,” he crooned, leaning down to briefly capture her lips again, then languidly, sensuously beginning to trail down her body, eyes still watching her with a devilish humor twinkling beyond the sheer devotion. 

“Killian,” she managed, trembling at his every touch and fluttering breath along her skin, knowing they have finally neared the point when they will become one.

With purpose, he pulled one of her boots, then the other, from her feet, followed by her stockings, and then he was working the tight borrowed breeches she had worn since boarding his ship down her legs and baring the very heart of her to his hungry eyes.

Lifting her foot to bestow a kiss to its arch, Killian ran the cool steel curve of his hook up her leg with weighted portent, from the ankle he still held aloft all the way to the crease where her leg joined her body, making her squirm at the proximity to where she already sensed such need for his touch, even if the wealth of those pleasures were yet unknown to her.

Emma flushed all over at how the blue of Killian’s eyes darkened and burned as he drank her in, actually licking his lips while that devouring gaze travelled the length of her laid out before him and came to rest where she felt embarrassingly, desperately wet and clenching for his touch. She did not know what to say or how to urge him on, and as he hovered over her, she almost tried to hide or cover herself, before he worked his hips into the cradle of her quivering thighs, running his hand along her bared side and mouthing encouragements into her skin.

“Swan, Love, you are a marvel,” he proclaimed, his scruff abrading her most sensitive skin, tingling and sending shivers of ecstasy out from the very center of her to top of her head and the tips of her fingers and toes. “And I find…” here he pressed several openmouthed kisses to punctuate his words before again trailing his hook along the path his lips had made. “Pirate that I am…” until his hand and the carefully wielded steel held her open for his onslaught as she panted and writhed, torn between pleading for more and begging for mercy, “I find I must stake my claim to such decadent… unsullied… treasure.”

Then his tongue and teeth were there, feeling as if he would turn her inside out in bliss. Emma’s fingers scrabbled wildly for purchase across the sheets and fisted in his hair, her head thrashing desperately on the pillow beneath it. “It’s - Oh!....Ah! Y- y- yours!” she managed to cry before she was wailing, crying to the moon and stars overhead at the sensations he was wringing from her body, feelings she had never known she could experience to miss them before that moment.

**************** ****************************** *****************

After the wave had crested and fallen, and Killian had indeed claimed her yet again, Emma lay boneless and sated, running her fingers through his sweaty hair as his head rested on her chest, ear pressed to her still-racing heart, sprawled half atop her and half to her side. Though she had her kingdom to rule, and the person beside her who could help her, be her partner just as her parents had done and would surely have wished for her, Queen Emma of Misthaven could have happily basked in the glow of that simple quiet moment forever, never moving from that very spot.

“I’m yours,” she reiterated calmly, solemn and true, no longer pitched in the throes of passion. She stroked her fingertips over his brow lightly, as if to soothe him to his rest after such wondrous exertions. “Body and soul, Killian Jones.”

And before they both let sleep claim them, he gathered her closer still, arms wrapped around her tightly and nose nuzzling into her neck, Killian replied, “Aye, my Treasure, body and soul, just as I am yours.”

Tagging: @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @laschatzi  @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly @xsajx @anmylica @sotangledupinit @donteattheappleshook @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @winterbaby89 @wefoundloveunderthelight @cosette141 @darkcolinodonorgasm @hollyethecurious @stahlop @xarandomdreamx @lfh1226-linda​ @drowned-dreamer​ @zaharadessert​

[choism]

As you should !! Reader and wooyoung are definitely a perfect pair in my eyes

Rough Rider | j.wy

twink!Wooyoung x afab!Reader

Genre: Smut, fluff

Summary: In which you meet a hot twink at a club who has a slightly unhealthy obsession with the 2000's and y2k bimbocore.

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: reader is gn, twink wooyoung, top wooyoung, alcohol consumption, reader gets buzzed but not drunk, grinding, makeouts, cunnilingus, bathroom foreplay (pls dont do this), cumming untouched, fingering, wooyoung has pleasure piercings (tongue, nipple, dick), kind of public sex, buttplug usage, unprotected sex (no !), creampie, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, squirting, cum eating, wooyoung has a huge dick, lots of dirty talk, i went ham with the smut

A/N: IT'S FINALLY HERE! I know I've been teasing this fic for soooo long but after rewriting and editing a ton of times, I finally got it! It's not as long as I'd like it to be but eh, I still think it came out good. If you blame anybody for this ides blame @cheollipop for indulging in dms foe the past month, she is responsible for this rot! Tysm to @pyeonghongrie for beta reading for me mwah mwah and extra special thanks to @atzfilm for creating the banner! I hope you all enjoy and remember to leave feedback!

WOOYOUNG'S SHIRT COLLECTION (Includes both shirts mentioned in the fic!)

The night was brisk with the cold air of fall, leaves falling from the planted trees in the sidewalk. Cars zooming past on the busy street, traffic bustling given it’s nearly 11pm on a Friday night. You and your friends decided to go clubbing, despite the chillier than average weather. They had raved about this brand new queer inclusive club that had opened up nearby and how badly they wanted to go considering the rather lackluster amount of gay clubs in the city. Hearing about a new club piqued your interest, you aren’t one to party much, definitely a more ‘mope at the bar’ kind of person but hey, it’s new and fun and your friends seem to be excited, and that’s enough to get you to go.

The three of you are about to enter the club, excitement coursing through all of your veins.

“We are about to go in! Wanna split or group first?” Your friend says, teeth chattering. Your friends didn’t really dress for the weather, deciding to wear more skimpy, cute outfits despite your protests that they will catch a cold. Admittedly they were cute outfits, but you just couldn’t justify freezing your ass off in this weather. You had opted for something a bit more suitable, a sheer, lace long sleeve undershirt paired with a tight vest, black jeans ripped at the knees, the threads hanging on for dear life and some multi-colored doc martens for added comfort. It was practical, and cute, two of your main goals for today’s adventure. You weren’t really attempting to impress anyway– just wanted some fun with your friends.

“I think we should group at the bar and get a bit more buzzed, pre-game wasn’t enough for me and I need some alcohol to warm me.” Your other friend speaks up, rubbing both of their arms for added emphasis. You all collectively agreed and finally the bouncer let you in, your friend speaks up again, “After a round of shots maybe we can split? I want to go explore a bit, scope the grounds.” They giggle and bump your arm and you laugh in return.

Seated at the bar you order two rounds of shots, one for the buzz, second for fun. You each down your drinks and make faces of disgust, giggling at each other's quirky looks. Soon after, your two friends split off to do their own thing for a while and you decide to sit at the bar, doing a bit of scoping of your own. The crowd is bigger than you thought it would be, definitely more lively and scattered. It’s nice going to a new club and seeing fresh faces and especially being at a more open gay club, the diversity is refreshing. You order a Negroni to sip on while you people watch, not interested in exploring yet and not interested in getting fully drunk. Staying buzzed is how you relax, much to your friends dismay, and much to your dismay your usually the one dragging them home, unless they decide to go home with some stranger for the night.

Sipping the bitter drink you turn back to the crowd. You decide to look over for your friends and see who they’ve decided to unfortunately drag onto the dancefloor and grind into for the night, when your eyes land on probably the most gorgeous man you’ve seen your entire life. He was swaying his hips against a man significantly taller than him, pushing back against him seductively with his arms wrapped behind loosely around his neck. His eyes were shut and clearly enjoying his experience, but that wasn’t what caught your eye. He was beautiful, his long black hair wavy and swept lightly over his eyes, his smile curved mischievously. Looking further down to his outfit, his top cropped showing his pierced navel, and if you squint you can see his, maybe pierced, hardened nipples through the white material.

What really catches your attention are the words on the front of the tee– Rough Rider– in angry bold red cowboy font, a small cowboy hat adorning the large R. You choke a bit on your drink, laughing to yourself.

Really, you don’t expect any less from some twink in an open queer club, but it’s still amusing nonetheless. Once you get over your musings, you continue examining him. He’s wearing the lowest lowrise jeans, barely even covering his pelvis and accentuating the V of his hips and– oh my god, is that a thong? As if he can hear you he turns to face the stranger he was just filthily grinding against and there, you get your answer. A hot pink whale tale poked above his waistline. Curling over his hips sexily. It’s honestly hot and causes you to pick up your drink once again, taking a more hefty sip. Now you also have a full view of his full ass and god, you don’t think you’ve ever been this attracted to some stranger in a club. He’s clearly seductive on purpose, using his feminine wiles to make everyone in the club bow to him, and it’s fucking working.

As if sensing your stare, the man turns around again and shoos off the other guy, opting to feel himself alone on the dancefloor now. But instead of closing his eyes once again, he ends up looking in your direction, directly at you. You look to your left. You look to your right. God damnit. The bar is nearly empty on either side of you. You gulp and sip on your drink, a weak smile painting your lips as the seductive man saunters over, taking a seat next to you. He ignores you at first, ordering a cosmo for himself and watching the bartender make it intently. His drink is set in front of him and he sips it, eyes fluttering as he turns to you.

“So, what’s your name?” He asks, his light voice like heaven. Could this man be any more beautiful? 

“It’s y/n, and yours?” You sip again, fluttering your own lashes. It’s not like you dressed like a slob tonight, and you're fairly curious so you play along, wanting to see where this encounter goes. He smiles with his teeth, probably the most mischievous smile you’ve ever seen.

“Wooyoung, Jung Wooyoung.” Wooyoung crosses his legs and leans more into the bar. “So what brings you here? You don’t seem like the dancing type, and you’ve been at the bar this entire time.” Has he been watching you?

“My friends wanted to come because it’s a new club, and I wasn’t opposed.” Yes, seem disinterested, that’ll hook him. You mentally slap yourself. The stranger- no, Wooyoung giggles. He stirs the stick in his drink, swirling around the pink edible glitter he asked the bartender to put in specifically.

“Well, y/n, maybe instead of sitting here ogling strangers, why don’t you dance with me a bit?” He smirks and takes the stick into his teeth, nibbling at it. You nod your head in agreement and he swiftly hops from the bar, grabbing your hand and guiding you onto the dancefloor. You can hear his giggle as he leads you into the crowd and it’s endearing.

Instead of grinding on you however, as you had expected from watching him earlier, he spins you around so your back is flush to his chest. He doesn’t move his hips against you though, probably waiting for you to consent first by flirting more. Instead he places his hands on your hips and sways the both of you to the beat of the music. A few minutes of swaying and you're bored, you never really dance and you want to see where this could go, so you lightly press your ass back into his crotch to chase some sort of friction. You can hear his breath hitch for a second, before you feel him lean forward a bit, “How far do you want to take this, sweetheart.” Now it’s turn for your breath to hitch.

You fully press your ass into his now semi hard member, still moving your hips to the beat. “As far as you’ll let me.” You stutter over your own words a bit, and are honestly surprised by your own boldness. You can practically feel him smirk against your neck, his breath fanning of it .

“Whatever you’d like, I’m yours for the night.” He kisses along your neck and fully rolls his hips into your butt, his movements precise to pleasure you in the best way possible. His hips dip underneath your shirt and it feels like time stops, like you are the only two people in this entire club. If you could, you would let him take you right here, in front of everyone.

“B-bathroom, please, now.” You barely mutter out and he takes your hand, intertwining your fingers with his as he drags you to the club bathrooms.

Since it’s a new club, the bathroom is actually fairly clean and you breathe a sigh of relief. You’ll be damned if you have sex in an unhygienic place. Wooyoung shoves you into a stall and immediately presses his lips into yours, feverishly kissing you as if he’s been waiting his whole life for this moment. You return his kiss and slip your tongue into his mouth, he moans loudly and grins, sucking on your teeth.

He presses his now fully hardened crotch into your pelvis, grinding down slightly to chase a bit of friction, then he pulls away and you whimper. “God fuck your so hot, let me eat you out please.” He says desperately, as if it’s his life’s mission to give you head.

“Yes yes, please, yes god.” You start to unbutton your jeans and you immediately regret your decision to wear them, the tight material barely sliding down your legs. Wooyoung drops to his knees and kisses your bare thighs, stroking them lightly in anticipation. Your underwear is still on and he can see how soaked you are through the material, showing a damp spot over the front.

“So wet for me baby, wanna make you feel so good.” He places gentle kisses over your clothed pussy, sending shivers down your spine.

“Wooyoung, please.” Needing no more instruction, he pulls your underwear down with his teeth and your core is now exposed to the air. He licks against your thigh, then the other one, teasing you before he finally places open mouth kisses against your clit. Your hand flies to his thick head of hair, pulling a bit at the euphoria. He suckles and licks against your clit like he’s a master at it, bringing his thick fingers up to prod at your folds and tease your entrance. He doesn’t hesitate, slicking up one of his fingers with his spit and sliding it into your dripping hole with ease, curling it a bit to give you maximum pleasure. You moan, not caring for the other people in the bathroom. They are all probably fucking each other too.

You look down for the first time directly at the scene, taking in how his hair falls to the front of his face, his veiny arms flexing with each twist of his thick, long fingers. God, his fingers are like cock. You didn’t know a twink could have such nice hands but you’ll never doubt yourself ever again. He’s not fucking into you forcefully but opting you curl at your g spot, deriving the most pleasure out of you as possible. He moans against your clit. Was he getting off on this? He wasn’t touching himself, one of his hands in your pussy, the other on your thigh. God that’s hot.

As if the worst timing ever, you hear a ding from your phone, then another, then another. You don’t tell Wooyoung to stop, opting to quickly look at your notifications.

Friend 1: where is y/n? why aren’t they at the bar :((

Friend 2: dunno may b they r getting fucked lol

Friend 1: yea right

y/n: busy, not coming home

Friend 1: OHMYGOD OHMYGOD

Friend 2: Y/N ARE U GETTIN DICKED DOWN RN ????

Friend 1: ITS ABOUT DAMN TIME

You set your phone down, not even bothering to read the slurry of texts they sent after yours because you're too focused on your own pleasure at the moment. You look back down and Wooyoung seems wholly unbothered, also seemingly too focused on getting you off. Now that you're paying attention again, you can feel your orgasm building fast, and as if he can sense it too he adds in two more fingers, curling into your pussy harder and bringing you closer to your finish. You're gonna come, you can feel it, the hot band expanding and about to snap. Has it even been 15 minutes? When was the last time someone made you come this fast.

Soon, you feel it hit you, and it hits hard. Your thighs convulse on either side of Wooyoung’s head and you can feel the wetness rush through. Wooyoung lets out a slurry of really loud moans that vibrate through your core, overstimulating you a bit. You push his head away once you feel too much and he sits back onto his heels.

You look down to see a very visible wet spot on his jeans.

“Did you-”

“Yeah, you just tasted so fucking good, couldn’t help myself sweetheart.” 

Oh my god, he came untouched from eating you out. Fuck, that’s hot.

He smirks and stands back up, “Why don’t we get out of here so I can make you feel even better, hm?” Kind of dazed and shocked, you nod your head and get dressed again, and he pulls you out of the bathroom, then out of the club doors, calling an uber.

***

Soon the both of you arrive at his apartment, he fumbles with the keys a bit but he opens the door, and you are met with a sight.

His entire apartment is 2000s themed. This man isn’t a twink, he’s a bimbo, and somehow that’s hotter. The couch is a deep dark velvet leopard print material, there's fairy lights hanging from the ceiling, a pink lava lamp on a bookshelf in the living room. Random posters littering the walls. It was honestly cool and interesting. Wait. This is a one night stand. You can’t be interested, duh!

“Sorry my apartment is a bit trashy, do you want some water before we continue?” He says lightheartedly, you didn’t know he could be polite. It’s cute. You mumble yes and he tosses you a water bottle from his pink fridge, and you take note of the Bratz magnet holding his grocery list and you snicker to yourself. He leads you to his bedroom which is surprisingly a bit more tame, littered with figurines of all kinds. Well, the Monster High dolls neatly organized on the shelf aren't exactly tame, but it doesn’t bother you, so it’s fine. His sheets are cheetah print, silk, and as you lay on them you forget the outrageous pattern and focus on how nice they feel, how much better it would feel underneath you as Wooyoung fucks you. 

“It isn't overwhelming, is it? I know I kind of have an obsession…” Wooyoung trails off, clearly a bit nervous about the way his interests have overtaken his apartment. “A lot of my partners tend to be taken aback.” He frowns, setting his own bottle of water on the nightstand next to his bed. He sits next to you on his bed and it bounces a bit with the added weight.

“Why would that bother me? I think it’s cute, and these sheets are nice.” You wiggle your eyebrows suggestively and he fully laughs, a blush dusting his cheeks. You can see a look of contemplation sweep his expression briefly, before he grins and pins you to the bed.

“Hm enough talk, let me please you some more sweetheart.” He kisses from your chest to your neck, suckling lightly and most definitely leaving a small mark. “Are you clean?” He asks between kisses along your jaw, making his way to your mouth.

“Yes, are you?” He grins wildly and finally kisses harshly against your lips.

“I am darling, are you okay with me filling you up, nice and full.” His choice of words are so hot, it sends a wave of heat through you. He places his thigh in between yours, pressing into your core roughly. “You’d like that, me filling you up with my cum, fucking into you properly. I’d bet you look so pretty on my cock sweetheart, trembling beneath me.” You moan into his mouth as he presses his thigh harder, before pulling back to take off his shirt. You were right, he does have nipple piercings. And actually, maybe you were too buzzed at the time, but you're just now noticing the cool metal that slides against your tongue with each press of his own. Holy shit he has a tongue piercing too.

You wonder if he has any more.

You sit up to take off your clothes as well, discarding them to the side and leaving you in your underwear. You didn’t wear any sort of bralette or bra, never thinking you would get any action, so you're left in your panties. Wooyoung shimmies out of his clothes too, but he makes a show of taking off his jeans. Oh that’s right, the thong. He turns, his back facing you, as he slowly pulls them down, revealing the bright thong. It hugs his ass so nice and oh my god that’s a buttplug. You’ve literally never felt more wet in your entire life. He takes off his thong and turns his head, “Wanna take it out for me?” He asks innocently and you groan. You crawl to the edge of the bed and pull his hips to the edge, eliciting a squeal from the small man.

Making a show of it, you twist the plug a bit, slowly moving it in and out and he whimpers, before you pull it out fully. His hole gasps around the emptiness and he finally turns around, if you weren't shocked before, you're definitely shocked now. His cock is hard and leaking, for one it’s huge and thick and veiny, the pink tip dripping precum and beading onto, you guessed it, a cock piercing, a prince albert pierced through his thick head and collecting the drips of precum. You look up and he smirks, “Like what you see?” he climbs onto the bed and you scooch against the headboard.

“Fuck yes, god Wooyoung please just, please fuck me already.” He licks a stripe from your navel to your sternum, making a show of tasting you. Wooyoung reaches over to grab a bottle of lube conveniently already on top of the nightstand, drizzling some into his hands and warming it up before slicking up his cock. He spills some onto your pussy, the cold liquid sending shivers down your spine before warming up to the feeling as he spreads it around, rubbing over your clit a few times.

“‘m gonna make you feel so good baby, make you feel so full.” He whispers as he lines himself up with your entrance, slowly pushing inside and god you can feel every inch as he pushes, filling you to the brim, his cock twitches inside of you a few times and finally he bottoms out.

“So big…..fuck.” You whine, wrapping your arms around him and clawing at his back. His cock is so big it barely fits, it stings a bit but it feels so good.

“Gonna move now okay? Let me know if anything hurts.” He moves out and you gasp, the feeling of him dragging along your walls feels so good, so so good, you haven’t had sex this good in, well, ever. He pulls out about half way before pushing back in, going slow so you can adjust to his length. The lube and your slick helps immensely, and soon he picks up his pace a bit. Wooyoung licks and sucks at your neck, shoulders, collarbones, and chest, leaving plenty of lovemarks and hickeys. The pleasure is rushing through your body, between his mouth all over you, the metal of his piercing dragging along your skin, and his large cock– the metal of his dick gliding along your walls– you feel your orgasm approach fast.

“Fuck, fuck faster Youngie, please more wan’ more.” You cry, tears stinging your eyes. The nickname slips out but it does it’s job, and he fucks into you harder, raising your leg onto his should to get a better angle. Wooyoung fucks directly into your g spot, the piercing atop the head of his cock feels so delicious, so so full. “Youngie gonna come, so close please.” 

“Fuck baby, gonna come too, wanna fill you up so good with my cum.” He pants, his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. Wooyoung brings a hand to your clit and rubs in a back and forth motion, bringing you to the edge, the band that mended earlier snapping once again as you cum all over his cock. He doesn’t stop, fucking you past your orgasm. The overstimulation is too much but at the same time, and you feel a rush, a wet heat builds alarmingly fast and then you feel a gushing wetness, like your peeing.

“Fucking shit, squirt all over my cock sweetheart, jesus.” 

“Woo- Wooyoung fuck huh feels good please!” While squirting Wooyoung finishes inside, as promised he fills you up with his cum and god it’s so much, never ending hot ropes filling you up and spilling from the sides onto the sheets as he fucks you through your second orgasm. The both of you are panting as you come down from your highs. Wooyoung slips out of you and you clench around nothing, his come spilling out a bit. He bends down and laps at his own cum quickly, trying not to overstimulate you any further, but trying to clean you up.

“Fuck y/n that was so good, that was the most I’ve ever cum.” He chuckles, getting up to grab a damp washcloth to clean you up, and lifting you out of bed and knot the small couch in his room so he can change the sheets. You help yourself to his drawers and ‘borrow’ a pair of boxers and a shirt. You don’t even look at the shirt, just grabbing some random one. Wooyoung comes back in with fresh sheets and looks at your shirt, drooping them on the floor to double over cackling.

“What? What's so funny.” You frown. Wooyoung points at your shirt and you look down, reading it upside down. “I heart submissive men?” You giggle, “Why do you have so many shirts like this?” You question, quirking a brow.

“Why, did you want one?” He laughs as he changes the sheets and plops onto the bed, patting the spot next to him. You curl up next to him, glad he isn’t kicking you out.

“What if I just kept this one, I like it, maybe I do like submissive men.” He snorts,

“Didn’t seem like that 10 minutes ago when you were underneath me, moaning my name.” You elbow his ribs and he fakes his pain, being dramatic.

“Well, maybe next time I want to be on top!” You huff and turn onto your back, staring at the ceiling. Huh, cute glow in the dark stars. Everything about him is so endearing, and draws you in.

He laughs and turns over next to you, propping an elbow underneath his head, “Who says there’s gonna be a next time?” He questions, genuinely curious. You turn over to him and place a gentle kiss on his lips,

“I do.”

© Choism 2023. do not repost or translate.

[yundeob]

A NIGHT IN HOLLYWOOD ☆ | ATEEZ SERIES

— featuring ot8!ateez in iconic HOLLYWOOD romance and rom-com movies

— TICKET BOOTH IS CLOSED! 🎟️ : the movies are about to start! all fics will have MATURE CONTENT! MDNI!

sit back, relax, grab your popcorn and tissues, and enjoy the silver screen . . .

THE PARENT TRAP ☆ | KHJ

TROPE: exes to lovers! divorced!au

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, angst, crack, slice of life

AS DIVORCED PARENTS to two twin daughters, you and hongjoong have your fair share of work cut out. Driving to piano lessons, cheering at hockey games, drop offs at each other’s houses, it can all be a little much. But could a relaxing summer retreat as a whole family possibly rekindle past emotions you’ve swept under the rug? . . .

— IN THEATRES

DIRTY DANCING ☆ | PSH

TROPE: bad boy!seonghwa, enemies to lovers!au , 60s!au

TAGS: nsfw, smut, angst, crack

THAT WAS THE SUMMER before JFK got shot, before the beatles came, and when you were working part time at your aunts summer resort. That was also the summer you met resident heart breaker and cocky entertainment crew member, Park Seonghwa. Remind yourself why you’re suddenly dance partners with him again? . . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

PRETTY WOMAN ☆ | JYH

TROPE: dilf!yunho x formerstripper!reader, strangers to lovers!au, contract lovers!au,

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, angst

LIVING IN BEVERLY HILLS comes with its perks. But for two different people such as yourself and multimillionaire business tycoon, Jeong Yunho, both of you can’t seem to find what you’re looking for in the so called ‘Land of Dreams’. So the proposal is simple really… let him spoil you with money, jewelry and clothes while in return, you stay by his side. . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

MR AND MRS KANG ☆ | KYS

TROPE: marriage!au, established relationship, spy!au, assasin!au

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, ANGST, crack

WHO WOULD’VE THOUGHT picture perfect suburban neighbourhood couple, Mr. and Mrs. Kang would be at each others necks trying to kill each other first. You’ve both come this far in your marriage while hiding your secret identities, but it looks like only one person can remain standing. I guess you both did promise “in sickness and in health”. . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

ROMAN HOLIDAY ☆ | CS

TROPE: royalty!au, princess!reader x reporter!san, strangers to lovers!

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, angst

AS CROWN PRINCESS, you’re on a tightly scheduled tour of European capital cities. But after an especially rough day in Rome, you sneak out of the embassy to explore the so called Eternal City, running into no other than celebrity news reporter, Choi San, looking out for his next big royal scandal. . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

10 THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU ☆ | SMG

TROPE: college!au, stoner!mingi, enemies to lovers!au, fakedating(?)au, y2k aesthetic

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, angst, crack, slice of life

YOUR YOUNGER BROTHER Wooyoung is desperate in getting you, his older sister in college, to date so that he can finally date in highschool. The options for potential candidates are scarce, considering men flock away like birds the second you’re near. Good thing campus stoner and weirdo, Song Mingi is the same as well. . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

HOW TO LOSE A GUY IN 10 DAYS ☆ | JWY

TROPE: fashioncolumnist!reader x advertiser!wooyoung, y2k aesthetic, fake dating(?)au, enemies to lovers!au, mutual pining

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, angst, crack, slice of life

LISTEN, IF IT MEANS getting a promotion at your editorial company as a news journalist instead of pop culture and lifestyle columnist, you’d do anything. And that includes pretending to be the most annoying and clingiest girlfriend to some guy for 10 whole days. But just so you know, Wooyoung likes clingy. . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

ROMEO & JULIET ☆ | CJH

TROPE: unrequited love, star crossed lovers!au, mutual pining, secret romance (shakespeare be rolling in his grave rn)

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, ANGST

FOR CENTURIES, a plague of hatred and hostility has been present in the relations between the House of Choi and your own. You know you can’t be together, but yet why do you keep catching that dark haired boy staring at you so longingly? And why do you want him just as bad?. . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

a/n: for updates, follow my blog! this will be a work-in-progress so I ask for your support:(🙏

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taglist became too long so find the second taglist here💀 no longer taking requests

[jensthwa]

we can't be friends (CS x reader).

part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.

SUMMARY:

San is your first love. He broke your heart and played with your feelings without even kissing you back when you two were in highschool. Now, many years later, you do your best to avoid crossing paths with him because there's just no way you could ever hate him, but there's also no way you two can be friends again. But his best friend is also one of your best friends, so there's only so much you can do to avoid San when he arranges a dinner you're forced to go to.

PAIRING: first love!choi san x afab reader.

GENRE: one shot (fluff, angst, smut)

WORD COUNT: 20k (yikes).

WARNINGS: SMUT ☽ (MINORS DNI) attempt !!! at comedy, unnecesary pinning, a looot of context, bad friends :(, some arguing, tension, drinking and drunk behavior, tears, making out, description of female anatomy, oral (f reciving), fingering, love making, pet names (babe, baby), flirty seonghwa, wooyoung being a little shit again but also a genius, gyuri almost commiting a crime.

NOTES: hi everyone! this is a lenghty one, i know, but trust me when I say the context is necessary to understand what reader goes through with san. also, some of this may or may not have happened to me (have fun figuring out which part) (it's quite obvious tbh). THIS IS PART OF THE SHOW AND TELL UNIVERSE BUT CAN BE READ AS A STAND ALONE, even though there's some references and characters that you can only know if you read s&t lol. this is 100% self indulgent, as all fics should be, and i think i've re-read it so many times that if you find a typo or something that just doesn't make sense, you can blame it on english not being my first language i guess lmao. i hope you enjoy it and if you do feel free to send/reblog/type in any feedback or thoughts! <3

POSTED: august 06 2024.

permanent taglist: @hotteokkay, @potatomountain, @fairylover68

masterlist.

You and Choi San go way back. 

Well, it's nine years way back? You were only fourteen when you first saw him. 

He moved back to your area of the city a year after you moved from an entirely different one. You thought you knew every school secret there ever was, provided by your new best friend, Gyuri, but she didn't tell you about him at all. 

She claimed that it was because he didn't cause any stir the years they studied together before and after spending a whole first period in your eighth grade classroom with him at the back of the class, silently taking notes, you couldn't phantom why.

He was great at every subject, seemed to have a lot of popular friends and was, overall, a pretty nice guy. He was also very cute, skinny but you could tell he was the kind of guy who played a sport outside of school hours and he had a cute pair of dimples that showed everytime you scanned the classroom just to lay eyes on him. 

Choi San was a perfect boy to crush on, even a perfect guy just to have as eye candy during recess. You felt really strongly about him, not really forming a full opinion although your gut told you right away you were right. There was something about him… but you only figured that something until later, next year, starting your ninth grade. 

Gyuri and you were avid readers. Precocious girls, with minds way above your age. All your teachers praised came laced with the same compliment so you both decided that was the truth. You rejoiced in it, thinking you shared things in common with the grown ups and decided that that was the key to feeling a little superior in comparison to the rest of your classmates, who neither of you liked very much. 

Until they all decided to start dating each other and you two realized you were nothing but two kids with great imaginations and a love for school, praise and fictional men that couldn't be translated to the real world without sounding delusional and weird. 

So you decided to do something about it. And so, on a random Tuesday recess, you two scanned the crowd trying to find two boys (or a boy and a girl, because you always knew you liked girls too) worthy of your affections. One for her, one for you. Bonus points if the two of them were also best friends, of course. 

Double dates were all the buzz at the time anyways. 

Besides, only then they could understand the bond you and Gyuri had. Sisterhood like no other, nevermind Gyuri actually had an older sister and a niece at the ripe age of fifteen. 

And so when your index finger scanned the crowd and eliminated at least three potential crushes before landing on Choi San, you felt like it was meant to be. 

You see, his best friend, Jung Wooyoung, was perfect for Gyuri to crush on. He was almost as tall as she was at the time and his easy, outgoing personality was compatible with her book crush at the time as well. 

He also flirted with her on several occasions before that. 

So it was meant to be. 

Choi San, on the other hand, had never even glanced in your direction before. 

Just like your book crush did before he fell in love with the main character. 

See? Meant. To. Be. 

It was decided then that, although Choi San was not going to be your first crush ever, he was going to be the guy that motivated you to be at school for the time being, because math gets really boring after trying and failing at least ten times. 

You thought nothing of it when it felt a little forced, when you couldn't blush at all at the sight of him and you gathered that it didn't need to happen like in the books you read. You simply needed to say his name when someone asked you if you had a crush on anyone and that was enough to be in symphony with the rest of your classmates. 

Your longing glances were caught once or twice by him and you brushed the weird flip your stomach did everytime he looked away, blushing a little. You never really cared when it happened, really, knowing his crowd and your crowd (Gyuri and you) would never even cross paths in the first place. 

You two kept to yourselves and your little book unofficial book club, sitting on the floor at lunch time and cursing everyone who dared to call you weird for it. San and Wooyoung had a crowd of people at the loudest table laughing with them over stupid teen jokes and, uh, sports? You didn't even know. 

And then the unimaginable happened. 

Jung Wooyoung sat down, criss cross applesauce and everything, in front of you on a random Monday afternoon while you and Gyuri discussed the english assignment due next period. 

Gyuri was not too excited about that. 

Turns out, the only one excited to have a crush at school was you. She was very much still in the Lonely Hearts Club phase while you skipped all the way to your The Notebook phase and she was, in her own words, too afraid to admit it when you came up with your crush plan. 

You forgave her, of course, and decided to wait for her as long as needed because you were certainly not about to be an individual and have a crush on your own. 

And by the time Wooyoung smiled at you both and introduced himself to you, like you weren't in the same class for a year already, you thought your pretend crush on his best friend evaporated and joined the void superficial and fleeting interests you had. 

But then Choi San sat beside him, his knee brushing against yours in the process, and you knew you would have to issue a formal apology to your best and only friend for leaving her behind on this little thing. 

Because, oh boy, were you crushing on Choi San. 

You felt the blush rush to your cheeks and then fell silent while your friend and his friend discussed Fifty Shades of Grey for some reason you never cared enough to discover and you knew you were done for.

It was the first time seeing his dimples in full action, so close to you, so you completely stopped functioning all together. Amazing. 

When you decided to have a crush, you never took into account that you were, actually, quite shy. And he really wasn't, but you noticed that he knew when to talk and what to say and with your friend being a lot more outgoing that you were it gave you the comfort that she would speak for the both of you while you admired from the sidelines as your little duo became a group of friends you still miss deeply to this day. 

He was funny and you laughed at your jokes even though you pretended to be tired and completely worn out by the school day, resting your head on Gyuri’s shoulder and stealing glances at the boy while she kept arguing with his best friend. 

Wooyoung was popular and liked enough to have a few people sit with you later that week, people who never even knew you existed before that. They were good friends with San as well, so you tried your best to keep up with everyone until she sat down next to you one day. 

Arin was not really a bad person. She just was a bit conceited, calling herself princess type of conceited and you never really related to her even if she was nice to you to your face. She was absolutely gorgeous and, you found out with Wooyoung’s arm around your shoulder and a whisper to your ear, she had been San’s crush since they were both in elementary school. 

That would explain the sudden tension at the table when she sat down next to you, said hello to everyone, offered you a sweet she just bought from the cafeteria, and stared at San for the remainder of lunch time. 

You also noticed Wooyoung glaring at her a little and he later explained to you that he didn't really like her all that much. She loved attention and San gave her attention, so she would intentionally flirt with him to get her ego stroked in return. 

It didn't really matter how he felt about the girl, though, he didn't have to like her just because his best friend did. And when you caught her batting her eyelashes at San, you knew you didn't even stand a chance.

You tried to hide the disappointed look on your face but both Gyuri and Wooyoung looked at you while the two of them flirted endlessly for the remainder of lunch time and you figured you were doing a pretty shitty job at it. He didn't glance at you once either way, so it didn't really matter. 

Arin did but she just complimented your eyes and then started a conversation with someone across the table, her annoying sweet and fake voice making your right ear ring in disapproval. 

Either way, you ended up becoming her friend. Gyuri was not very fond of her and neither were you, but you all went to the bathroom together, did your makeup together, did school projects together and then sat everyday at lunch together with the rest of the guys who were, in one way or another, trying to get her to like them. 

Because, once again, she was a sight for sore eyes. 

It wasn't until later, in the middle of the year, that one of them did. Not Choi San, but Choi Yeonjun. 

You remember the day you found out they were together and the gut wrenching concern you felt when you found out that San was not at school that day. 

It was after summer break, you remember Wooyoung telling you that San and his family took a few more days of vacation and if you couldn't believe your eyes when you saw the new couple sharing a sweet kiss at the designated lunch table, you could only imagine how San felt the next day when he saw the same image right in front of him. 

Yeonjun was his friend, right? He knew about his crush and decided to get together with her anyways. Surely, San was devastated. 

But he wasn't. He just cheered them on and then laughed along when Yeonjun shoved his arm playfully after the hollering. 

But you saw through it. 

Your crush on San made you observant. Made you believe you knew him better than everyone else and so, after lunch, you took out your phone and pulled up the notes app. Writing a simple “are you okay?” in it and passing it to him the next second, you were surprised with yourself before you saw him frown a bit. And then he understood what you meant. 

Nodding, he passed you the phone back, before giving you a reassuring smile that you treasured in your heart and saw in your dreams. 

You didn't believe him, though, but stayed close enough to everything related to the situation to hold Arin in your arms when Yeonjun inevitably broke her heart. 

Starting your tenth year, he moved back to his city and decided to play the I thought we weren't even that serious card on her. Which was nasty, considering love it's very, very serious for a sixteen year old girl. 

By this point, you were all a little family and hanging out after school and on the weekends was not unusual, so it didn't surprise you when Arin invited you, and only you, to her house after choir practice on a Thursday. 

She lent you her older sister’s clothes to wear (because her's would never fit you. Her words, not yours) and took you to a walk in the park just to break your heart for the first time ever. 

“You know… I thought love was something I couldn't find in highschool anymore. But San it's really making an effort, you know? He's been there for me ever since Yeonjun left and… Well, I think he's going to ask me to be his girlfriend tomorrow.” 

Grasping the park bench she forced you to sit at, you only nodded and let out a shuddering breath that gave away what she was trying to figure out since earlier that day. 

“I'll say yes but only if you say it's okay to do so.” 

Arin was not really your friend, the same way Yeonjun was not really San’s friend. 

Because there's no way you would ever be okay with it. 

And yet, you tried your best to give her a smile and pretend the sound of your heart breaking didn't bring tears to your eyes “Of course it's okay. Why wouldn't it be?” 

A week later, they were officially dating. The rumors spread around like a wildfire and it took out of you with everyone calling San a nasty rebound and you doing your best to prioritize the ghost of the friendship you had with him. That whole fiasco lasted a few months. 

Months in which your friendship with everyone just grew stronger. Gyuri was still your best friend, Wooyoung was crushing on her hard and everyone knew, Arin and San were a steady couple, a new girl joined your class that year, named Yeri, and the principal assigned her to you because she thought you two would get along really well. 

“I like girls,” was like, the third thing she ever told you while you were showing her the school “I'm just telling you now because I don't plan on hiding it and you are wearing a pride pin.” 

“Oh, that's cool. I like girls too,” you smiled, looking at your pride pin “I didn't hide it either and no one gave me shit about it, so, don't worry.” 

Yeri also liked the mainstream music that you liked and soon she became a new addition to your group. And with Arin spending all of her free time with San, you, Gyuri and Yeri only grew closer and closer. You didn't have Arin’s voice in your ear telling you the million reasons she found Yeri uncool, but you saw it in her face every time the table laughed at one of Yeri’s jokes. 

And so, it went on for a while: 

Your mom driving all of you around in her car to the beach, to dinner, to the movies and letting you have mixed sleepovers at your house (meaning you, Arin, Gyuri, Wooyoung, Yeri and San) was fun and all, but it was not enough to distract yourself entirely. Everytime you glanced at the couple, that sinking feeling in your chest would appear and sulk your whole mood for, at least, fifteen minutes.  

Fifteen minutes of pretending you were okay with them before forgetting completely for an hour or so and then the cycle would repeat until you were alone staring at the ceiling and doing your best to not cry about it.

All it took was your first kiss being Yeri of all people for you to decide that it was time to retire your crush for Choi San once and for all. 

And for a while, it all went according to plan. You decided to tell Gyuri that it was okay because he was your friend first and the guy that you liked second and that you were not fourteen and desperate for love anymore, that it was time to go on with your life as if nothing really happened in the first place. 

You were hooking up with Yeri anyways, so it seemed like you were doing just fine. 

You grew closer to San as well and even though he mostly talked to you about Arin and whatever tantrum she was throwing at the time, you really started to feel some sense of normalcy within you when it came to just speaking to him. 

You no longer blushed when he made you laugh, you no longer looked at him with the longing of a past life lover and you were really happy for him because, at the end of the day, he was really happy with his relationship. 

Until winter break came around and Arin decided to give San his first heartbreak ever. 

She decided to call for a break in their relationship because she was, in his words, too overwhelmed with the amount of love and attention she was getting from him. 

Which was completely fucking insane considering the fact she forced him to save her contact as Princess Arin and all. 

So naturally, you sided with him. And she didn't take it to heart because everyone knew you liked San anyways. 

She told you the news herself through Facebook after asking you to explain to her the English assignment due next day and then she decided to tell you something you'll never understand because you no longer are on speaking terms with her: 

Princess Arin: u know i broke up with him because of u right? :) 

Princess Arin: one day I'll tell u all abt it. 

She never told you anything about it. And by then, you were starting your last year and San was your best friend who hung out with you everyday after school, calling you late at night and helping you with assignments through Skype. So you didn't really care. 

And as the day passed, you started understanding the connection they talked about in books and movies. You thought you did before, Gyuri being your eternal person in this world, but it felt so different with San. 

Different and good. Different and achy enough for you to want to keep it in your life. 

Your dynamic was friendly, sure, but it was alright. It consisted of banter and daring stares as well as laughter and soft moments you treasured till this day. 

“It's way too early to be this annoying, Choi San.” 

“Oh, you think this is me being annoying?”

You both got an hour of detention for disturbing the class that day. 

You loved it. 

But then, after almost a month of picking up the broken pieces of his heart one by one, and your mother giving him a self-help book to make him regain the confidence he lost during the breakup process, you realized that you were in love with him and there was nothing you could do about that. 

You noticed one friday afternoon, when he offered to pay for your and your mom's ice cream at the drive through, when he scrambled to get all the change he had on him to leave a tip for the person who handed you guys the sweet treat, that there was no way you didn't love him. 

And it was confusing as fuck when everyone else started to tell you he had feelings for you as well. 

“Think about it. You text each other good morning everyday” Yeri listed with her finger and you nodded “Then, you go to school, sit together and spend the rest of the day together” another nod “Then after school you either go get ice cream together or hang out for a bit with your mom while she drives him home. And after that, you get on Skype for the reminder of the afternoon and then he calls you on your house phone and you two spend the rest of the night talking before falling asleep on the line together,” she looked at you like you were insane for even denying the accusations made against San, but she continued anyway “And then it's rinse and repeat and it has been that way since… What? Three months ago?” 

You nodded again, defeated. 

“Girl, he likes you.” she sighed, annoyed and a little tired, before sitting on your lap and kissing your lips affectionately “And you're here making out with me instead of him. You really are a lost cause.”

That didn't stop you from hooking up with her until she found a girl who's heart was not reserved for someone else, though. Said girl went to a different school and was a year younger than all of you, but she looked very happy and stopped secretly kissing you in the school bathroom like a week after they met. 

And when she finally told everyone, you were really happy for her, but San not so much. 

It was the night you thought everything was about to change. The night you thought he was about to kiss you or you were about to kiss him, whatever happened first. 

Laying in your bed, facing each other in the dim light, he thought it was the biggest form of betrayal and pouted the whole time he explained to you why. 

He thought you liked her and you realized he didn't really pay attention to you after all. Not the way you did with him. 

Bless his heart. 

You didn't kiss him that night because he wouldn't shut up about you and Yeri. 

“I mean, why couldn't it be you? She clearly liked you if you two were hooking up for over a year” and when his hand came to rest on your back, under your shirt, you breath hitched enough for him to notice it but not enough for him to just don't do anything about it except trace the curve of your silhouette with the pad of his thumb “I don't understand why anyone would pass the opportunity to be with you.” 

Huh. Maybe he did have feelings for you. 

No. He's just being a great best friend. Don't take that for granted. 

But it was impossible for you not to take Yeri’s words seriously as time went on. 

You didn't want to think he was giving you mixed signals, but yet again there was that one time when you reached behind your passenger seat in your mothers car to pinch his leg playfully after he pulled on your hair a little bit from behind, only to end up holding his hand the rest of the car trip to his house. 

His fingers slowly caressing the back of your hand were just too much for you not to get everything mixed up. 

Or that other time when your school held a Woman's Day event, and your class president decided that all the boys in the class were going to give roses to the girls.

When it was your turn to get a rose, you knew no one would give you one. But Yeri stood in line and collected a rose from the bin before the class president had the opportunity to say anything else. 

“I'll take that, thank you very much.” She turned to you, smiling. San blocked her way to you a second after. 

“And just what do you think you're doing?” 

“Giving my best girl a rose, of course.” She peeked around him, giving you a wink that you could only roll your eyes to. 

San turned to you, the fondness in his eyes making you question the decision of not pretending to be sick that day. It was too much for you to handle. 

“To the back of the line, then. I already called dibs on her,” he turned to your friend, snatching the rose from her hand in one swift move “I'll take that, thank you very much.” 

He had no idea what that meant to you back then. It was true that, at school, he behaved a little differently than when you two were alone. 

He was athletic, so he had some friends that you were sure used to ask him what the fuck was he doing wasting his time with a girl like you instead of getting a new girlfriend. 

He had a family that didn't approve of yours, too. You felt it the first time you met his mom and, even though she was nice to you and your mom, you could feel the judgemental stare she gave both of you when your mom told her she was a single parent. 

San told you that it didn't really matter, that his mom didn't have to like you because you weren't her friend, you were his. 

He played with your feelings a little too well. Wanting him, adoring him and letting yourself be consumed by the thought of him loving you back was enough to keep it going. To ignore the fluttering way your heart kept beating whenever he talked to you which was all the time. 

You assumed the way he behaved with you in private was the real him. The one who didn't care about appearances or his family approval. 

The one who cared about you. 

It was dizzying and fantastic and you thought he just might've been the love of your life. 

But then he would tell you how much it hurted when he saw Arin at school and how much he missed her, the intimacy they shared before, and reality would come crashing down and setting your delusions on fire again. 

He had sex with Arin. You would never stand a chance. 

Or so you thought he did. Except when you overheard Arin speaking to her friends and that was the first time you ever got mad at Choi San.

“And, you know, me and San were never intimate like that so I wouldn't know but I think boys have no idea how to please a woman if they tried to.” 

What? 

Oh. So he lied to you. 

And you were so upset by the thought of him making up stories of their intimate time together that it didn't even cross your mind that Arin might've been lying to save face. 

So when he came back from the bathroom and sat at his usual desk in front of you, you didn't even think about his feelings when you decided to treat him like shit for lying about something so important like sex to your face. 

“Leave me alone, San! I don't want to fucking talk to you right now!” 

The hurt expression he gave you after that is one you would never be able to forget. 

But you grew to be stubborn and a little overprotective of your own feelings, so you thought him playing the part of your best friend all these months and sweet talking to you was just another one of his lies. 

“You guys not being friends right now doesn't make any fucking sense, sweetheart.” Wooyoung's tone is careful and laced with affection, but you knew he was playing the devil's advocate on behalf of San. With his arm around Gyuri’s shoulder (by that point, they were a thing for over two months) you could swear you saw him smirk when the nickname brought a scowl to your face. 

He might've been worried, but he was also a little shit. 

“You really are going to let Arin ruin what you two have?” Your best friend was, of course, on your side. But she was your best friend for a reason and her love included pointing out when you were behaving like an infant at the age of seventeen and a half. 

“You two are practically dating and you're going to let the evil ex-girlfriend get in the way? Over something you weren't even supposed to hear in the first place? Come on.” 

Again, Wooyoung was a little shit. And you were so upset about everything that you shyness couldn't even help the fury behind your reply: 

“Stop saying that! We are not practically dating, he's in love with Arin and I'm not sure I even like him like that anymore!” Getting tired of everyone and their mother (your mother) feeding your delusions, you came to the conclusion that putting a stop to your friendship with Choi San was for the best. 

And, in doing so, you ended up breaking your own heart for the second time in your life. 

But he didn't put up an easy fight at all. You remember the feeling of pure joy when he grabbed your hand on the way to the cafeteria one day, pulling you so hard you almost ended up sitting in his lap, and the way his pleading eyes begged you to listen to him one last time. 

“Us not being friends doesn't feel right, Y/N…” he said and the word he used to categorize what both of you had hurted you, but you pushed the feeling away “Please, let's not fight anymore. I don't even know what happened, but I forgive you for yelling at me and I hope you forgive me for whatever it is you think I did.” 

Of course, you forgave him the next second without thinking too much about it. And for a while, everything went back to normal. You Skyped as usual and occasionally you let your other friends join the call even though it didn't really feel like it used to before. 

The next thing you knew, your feelings were in full bloom again and when you realized it, it was too late. 

Because by then, you had already let your childhood friend, Sunhee, join a few Skype calls and by the fourth one she invited her friend, Minseo, to them as well. 

Terrible, terrible mistake. Because even through the screen, you could see that Minseo looked a lot like Arin with the added bonus that she was down to earth and cool and liked the same things San liked.

You liked the same things San liked as well, but it never seemed to matter. 

Because not even two months after you decided to stop talking to San over a lie you weren't supposed to find out in the first place and then became friends one more time, he gets together with Minseo and you're sick to your stomach all over again. 

You hated her. Not because she was, suddenly, his girlfriend (not girlfriend girlfriend, but in a friends with benefits arrangement you never even knew why he agreed on in the first place) but because suddlenly she was so fucking obnoxious and didn't seem to like you either. 

Was it not painfully obvious San didn't have feelings for you? Why was she mad at you then? You literally brought them together! 

And all you got in return was her telling him she didn't feel comfortable with him having a girl best friend. That ungrateful bitch. 

He stopped calling. He stopped texting, he stopped carpooling with you and your mom after school and he stopped caring whether your math assignment was done or not. 

He stared pulling away more and more and it didn't matter how hard you tried to get him to talk to you, it seemed like he never really fucking cared about you in the first place. 

And by may that year, you didn't speak to San anymore. Granted, the only person he did speak to was Wooyoung, but even their friendship was falling apart. 

For the first time ever, San broke your heart firsthand. And it felt really, really fucking bad. 

You cried to your mom about it, she reminded you that you were nothing but a great friend to him and that, if he didn't take the time to appreciate that, that was his loss not yours. 

And she started hating him from that moment on. But you couldn't hate San, not even a little bit. 

Why would you hate him for not liking you back? For not loving you the way you loved hi— 

Your laptop closes down right in front of you and when you try to look up to find out who's responsible for interrupting your writing time, you get interrupted again. 

“Ouch! What the fuck, Gyuri?” the slap to the back of your head is quick and fill with rage. 

“What the fuck are you even writing. I can read from here, you know?” 

“I'm just laying my feelings down and— Ouch! Stop that!” You try to hit her back but she turns away quickly when your hands almost knock her coffee mug out of hers. 

“You can't possibly still have love for San, Y/N. It's been years.”

It's been four and a half, to be precise. But who's counting, right? 

“And why are you writing it in third person? You don't usually do that.” 

“I don't really know, Gyuri!” 

“I’m telling you, this celebratory dinner bullshit it's affecting you way more than it should,” she sighs, plopping down on the couch of your shared living room, and you leave your seat at the table to join her “He might not even show up. He has that thing with Kyungmi.” 

Kyungmi. 

You couldn't get to that part on your open document, but San left Minseo when he met Kyungmi at one of the frat parties they love to attend. Wooyoung told you that he said that it was love at first sight and you even met her briefly when you picked Gyuri up from the apartment he and San got when they started college together. 

She’s gorgeous and doesn't look like Arin or Minseo at all. It’s a different type of gorgeous. She's a year older than San and went to the same school as them and Gyuri. 

You think you might even like her better than him. 

You tried to be happy for San when you found out, but you two barely even speak a word to each other and you convinced yourself a while ago that you couldn't care less if he sees right through you and your fake smiles. 

You gathered, after everything happened, that San knew you liked him and took advantage of that. Unintentionally, but he did anyway. 

You sigh, resting your head on your best friend's shoulder. “It’s his best friend's celebratory dinner, though, he needs to be there.” 

Two seconds pass and then you both say it at the same time: “He’s in love.” 

And when San is in love, he has a one track mind with the name of his lover as the goal. 

You nod, but you can't help but to be insistent “It's Wooyoung's celebratory dinner, he needs to show up, right?” 

“I might not even show up, he's a pain in the ass.” She replies but you can tell her annoyance is not genuine and it makes you smile. 

Gyuri and Wooyoung broke up towards the end of your first year of college but you all stayed close friends. A one year relationship was not enough to fuck up the friendship they had and they decided to stay civil until, eventually, they became close friends again. 

To this day, you wonder why you and San couldn't rekindle your friendship when it became clear to you that you missed your friend and not the guy that you liked. 

Because San was always your friend first and your first love second. 

But it doesn't really matter anymore, because Gyuri is forcing you to shower and reminding you that you two need to keep Wooyoung on his best behavior tonight. 

“That girl he used to like before me is going, he said. I looked her up, she's single and he needs to get together with her because I can't take him whining about it anymore.” 

They keep things with each other way too civil, you think. 

“I'm telling you, if we don't show up he's going to do that thing where he gets drunk and makes a fool of himself. I can't have that, I'm on a mission.” 

“A mission to get your ex laid?” You ask, shampooing your hair. 

“A mission to get him a girlfriend so he can stop crying to me about feeling lonely.” 

“Maybe he wants you guys to—” The shower curtain opens and you see your best friend’s scowl before covering yourself up with your hands. 

“Gyuri!”

“Don't you dare say what you were about to say or I'm divorcing you.” 

You chuckle “Sure you are.”

You're left alone again with the water stream and she goes back to do her makeup “I told you back in ninth grade that we weren't a great fit and I was right. We can't get back together,” she sighs “It'll ruin everything.” 

“I doubt it will but you guys have been friends longer than you were boyfriend and girlfriend, so I'll just have to deal with my parents being divorced and civil.” 

“God, don't ever refer to us like that again— Oh! Speaking of parents,” you see her beam at her phone when you move the shower curtain to search for your towel and then she shows it to you “Mingi and Love just celebrated their one year anniversary!” 

Love being Mingi’s best friend. Gyuri talks to you about her college friend group all the time. The drama fuels your dinner conversations, you even follow a few of them on social media. 

“What does that have to do with parents?”

“They're the mom and dad of the group.” 

San is in that friend group, you can see him in the back of the picture and you recognize his apartment layout too. He's not the main focus of it but he's all you can see until you notice the couple sitting near him on the couch. 

The picture shows both of them, her in his lap and Mingi looking at her with stars in his eyes. 

Good for them. 

“Is that the girl he was friends with forever before they finally realized that they were in love?” 

“Yeah,” she sighs in contempt, looking down at the picture again “I was there the day it happened. I mean, not physically with them, but they left Yunho's party together and I told Wooyoung that it was finally about to happen!”

Gyuri is not a romantic person at all. Her excitement shows you that she really loves them and so you soften at the news that would usually give you and your dry love life a headache “It was the day before you called me to get you out of that awful date.” 

Ah, that also happened back then. You shudder at the memory.

“Tell them I say congrats, babe.” 

“I'm bringing you as my plus one.” 

You laugh, confused “To where?” 

“Their wedding, duh.” 

“They practically just got together,” you remind her, a year is not enough time to propose “And I don't really know them, Gyuri!” 

“They love you,” she assures you as you step out of the shower “I have been speaking about your antisocial ass for years. They can't wait to meet you.” 

“So you've been shit talking behind my back for years? Is that what I'm hearing?” 

She laughs “No, babe, that's Wooyoung's job.” 

Clearing your throat and looking at your friend through the mirror, you try to be as nonchalant as you can when you ask: “Has he… Did he tell you if…” 

“No, Y/N, I have no clue if San is going or not and Wooyoung is actually mad at him at the moment.” 

“Why?” 

She looks at you, sighing “He's been lacking as a friend lately.” 

“Hm.” 

“I hope you're not planning on swooning if you see him. Fuck him, Y/N.” 

“I know…” 

“And by fuck him I mean he doesn't deserve you or your forgiveness.” 

“He didn't do anything to me, Gyuri,” you remind her, shrugging “Not reciprocating my feelings is not a crime so I don't have to forgive him for anything.” 

You can practically feel her starting the San hate train engine, so you step out of the bathroom but her voice follows you. 

“And what about that time he ditched you for Minseo when you asked him to go with you to that medical appointment, huh?” 

“Cut it out, Gyuri…” 

But her head peaks around the corner, into the hall where you're rushing towards your room “Or that time when—” 

“Can't hear you!” Turning to look at her, she gives you an affectionate middle finger and heads back to the bathroom.

Closing the door, you lean into the thin wood and sigh, getting San’s face out of your mind so you can focus on getting ready and actually show up for Wooyoung and Wooyoung only. 

He just got a permanent position after completing his internship at a company that's your company's rival. He's going to crush you and steal clients from you but you are genuinely so happy for him. 

You should've guessed he enjoyed books as much as you did back in highschool. The debates he used to have with Gyuri were not all about flirting with her but also because he has a passion for books. 

And now he's going to work in the same field as you.

You're so proud of your friend. 

As you get ready, you remember the excitement cruising through your body when your boss trusted you enough to give you the first manuscript of a new client so you could edit it. You're sure Wooyoung is going to do better than you, taking into account that he actually went to college for this. 

You didn't. 

You met your boss at the part-time job you got in senior year, when you were trying to distract yourself from all the pain and the horrors of becoming a grown up. She was chatty, got a little too drunk on soju and told you she was starting her own book publishing company. 

When she returned months later after remembering that you told her you loved books and would love to work for as a publisher one day, she offered you a job in her company right after graduating highschool. 

You took it because you didn't think an opportunity like this would show up ever again. 

She was truly a blessing, the kind of person you never really believed in until she taught you all you needed to know about publishing and editing and encouraged you to take online classes during the nights so you could get, at least, a certification on what you do. 

You're proud of yourself too. The opportunity found you in a specific moment of your life where both your heart and your self esteem were destroyed and now you're not the person you used to be. 

Maybe that's why the possibility of facing San makes you so nervous. Collective memories are dangerous because the details never match the ones on the other person's head. 

You know who you were back then but… Are you the same person in San’s head? 

You don't even want to find out. 

Scanning your outfit in the mirror for the last time, you take the shoes you're wearing tonight out of your closet and walk over to the living room. 

Only to find Gyuri laying on the carpet under the coffee table, half dressed and on her phone. 

“You're going to mess up your hair.” 

“I don't care, I'm not going.” 

Sighing, you seat down on the couch and staring at the wood of the table covering her face. 

“What happened now?” 

“The bitch canceled!” 

“Wooyoung?” 

Poking her head out, she frowns at you “No, his first love.” 

“You were his first love.” 

“You know what I'm talking about, Y/N!” 

Laughing at her, you offer her your hand “Get dressed. Who cares if she's not going? He's not going to sulk because he's going to have you and his best friends there.” 

She whines like a child when you pull her up from the floor “I had a plan!” 

“Then make a new one, babe. We're going to be late.” 

She starts to whine again but then stops mid-groan to give you a once over. You shift uncomfortably on your feet, suddenly self-conscious about your appearance for the first time in years. 

“You look really hot…” she tells you and you fake gag at her words “Really pretty. Like a fairy and a smoke show at the same time.” 

You can't possibly look like that when you have such a simple outfit on, floor length high waist black pants and a flowy sleeve top that ties in the middle. It's barely formal but now you're thinking too hard about it. 

Blushing, you wave your hand to dismiss her compliment “Oh, my god. Go and change!” 

She rushes to her room on the opposite end of the hall and you finally breathe, looking down at your choice of fit and wondering if it's too much. 

Gyuri would've told you if that's the case, but either way it haunts your mind in the car on the way there, leg bouncing up and down under your best friend's judging gaze that only softens when you pout at her. 

“They are going to love you, babe. I'm so serious, they've been waiting years to meet you.” 

You nod because, yes, you're concerned that her friend group is not all as welcoming as she paints them to be. 

And you wish your doubts would go away but you're really, really not good at making friends. You're cautious, extremely closed off to new people and not as good with conversation no matter how much confidence you gained over the past years. 

When you walk to the loudest table at the laid back restaurant their friend Seonghwa made the reservation at, you think you won't be able to fit in with everyone else. You feel like an intruder, like Gyuri is supposed to enjoy this part of her life without you here. 

That's why you rejected every invitation they ever made. 

You celebrate birthdays with her, with Woo as well, but it's all very intimate and separate from their social circle, the one that includes the man you haven't fully faced in years. 

But you can't exactly back out now, not when one of them turns to you and seems to light up when they see you. 

“Oh? Is this her?” you recognize Hongjoong from pictures, he's the only one facing you when you approach the table, lowkey hiding behind Gyuri like a child. 

“Who?” 

“Huh?”

San is nowhere to be seen. Thank god. 

Slowly, everyone turns around and you see their faces light up with both delight and surprise. Your heart is pounding, you feel it in your throat, in your eyes, in the heat that colors your cheeks. 

But Gyuri just steps aside and presents you with a smile “This is her!” 

“Oh, Y/N!” Wooyoung gets up, rushing towards you and crashing into your frame with a crushing hug “I'm so glad you're here,” he murmurs into your hair and then turns to his friends, quiet them down “Everyone, this is Y/N, one of my best friends in the entire world.” 

He's such a dramatic human being.

You love him so much. 

Raising your hand, you shyly wave at them “Hi.” 

The entire table erupts with joy. Some of them greet you, some of them are saying that they are happy to be finally meeting you and Wooyoung grabs your arm and plops you down into the seat next to Gyuri, at the edge of the table. 

Laughing, you apologize for not meeting them sooner and then you feel a pair of hands on your shoulders. 

Panic raising, you quickly turn around to see who it is before releasing a shuddering, but calmer, breath. 

“She's a very busy woman, guys. She works for the competition, my competition,” everyone gasps at that but Wooyoung is smiling at you “and she's very good at what she does. Which means she's busy, get off her case,” he puts a glass and a can of beer in front of you “Drink, babe.” 

“Thanks, babe.” You whisper back and he leans in to peck your head before going away. 

Gyuri groans “Stop stealing that from us! It's our thing, Y/N, don't indulge him.” 

“It's his celebratory dinner…” you argue with a laugh that Hongjoong and Mingi follow. 

“Yeah! Can you get off my case tonight, Gyuri?” 

She huffs, wrapping her arms around you “I hate you all.” 

“No you don't!” 

The table laughs and everyone returns to their individual conversations when Woo sits down on his spot. 

There's a few seats left, one besides Mingi and one right in front of you but you don't think too much about it because soon Gyuri gets up to ask Yeosang something and Seonghwa occupies her seat right beside you. 

You think he can sense that you're more shy than you let on, because he doesn't include you in whatever he and Yunho were talking about and waits until he stops talking to him to turn to you. 

“So, you work for a publishing company?” 

The question caughts you off guard and you swallow the beer quickly before nodding “Y-yeah, I… Yeah.” 

He chuckles “You're nervous.” 

“I'm just not as good at meeting people as Gyuri is. She usually does the job and I tag along.” 

“I feel like I know you already, though.” He says, leaning back on his chair. 

“Because she talks a lot about me?” he nods “Yeah, she tends to do that.” 

“Wooyoung also talks a lot about you, San too… Sometimes,” your cheeks heat up and he misinterprets what it means “All good things, I promise.” 

You doubt that. 

Your brain gives you a hundred and one possible things San could've said about you. 

For some reason, none of them are good. But you choose to believe the gorgeous, long haired guy in front of you. 

“Well that's good to hear,” you take another sip of your drink before smiling at him “I was sure Woo was trash talking about me.” 

He shakes his head with a smile “He wouldn't dare, he has Gyuri on his ass all the time and I'm sure she would kill him.” 

“I'm sure she would kill him even if he didn't do it.” 

His smile grows wider “That's true,” he says, looking over at them who are, very coincidentally, fighting about something. You let out a sigh and he laughs again before clearing his throat “So, the publishing company. What kind of books do you like to edit the most?” 

Your smile grows wider too. 

For the next hour, you talk to Seonghwa about your job and how you started in it. He asks you about your classes and the challenges that you face on a daily basis and Wooyoung overhears and ends up joining the conversation as well.

You don't even hear footsteps nearing until a voice cuts everyone off. 

“I'm sorry I'm late!” 

“Baby!” Mingi gets up from his seat, but no one else does so he's stuck between the table and his girlfriend. 

“Oh, that's Love, huh?” you ask Seonghwa, Wooyoung too entertained messing with the couple to hear you anyways. 

“Yeah… Is that how Gyuri refers to her?” He frowns.

“Mhm,” you answer, leaning into him like you're about to tell him an important secret “I'm not supposed to call her that, don't tell her.” 

Seonghwa leans in too, pretending to zip his mouth shut and you laugh. 

The girl wiggles her way into the seat reserved for her and everyone lets out a groan when they smooch each other. You can only giggle and the sound draws her attention to you “Y/N?” 

You quickly nod “Yeah, hi, nice to meet you.” 

“Nice to meet you! Finally, I thought Wooyoung and Gyuri had an imaginary friend,” you laugh, shrugging at the joke “Love your outfit, by the way, are those— Oh, San, hi— Are those jellyfish?” 

You want to answer. You truly do, the yes right at the tip of your tongue, but words leave you when you turn your head around and find San already looking at you with wide eyes.

He looks great, he's a bit more muscular than what the pictures show and than the last time that you saw him, his arms hugging the fabric of the dress shirt he's wearing like it was tailored for him and everything. 

How dare he. 

You wonder if his heart is beating as loud as yours is right now. If he's surprised, disappointed or happy to see you at all. 

“Her favorite animal.” He answers for you “Hi, Y/N.” 

“Hi…” you whisper back and it feels like you're in a trance. He doesn't look away but the table quieting down once again snaps you out of it and you turn to the girl with a wide smile that you hope conceals whatever the fuck you're feeling at the moment “I love jellyfishes. Had a phase as a child when I would exclusively talk about them, too,” you chuckle, nervously, reaching for your earrings instinctively “Gyuri gave them to me as a present last Christmas.” 

You definitely overshared just now. From the corner of your eye you catch your best friend getting ready to step in if needed. 

Love looks at you, then at San (who's just standing next to you without uttering a word) and then back at you again, smiling like she just figured something out “Well, I love them.” 

“Thanks…” 

Coughing unnecessarily loud, Wooyoung gets up from his seat “You're late.” 

It takes a second but San tears his gaze away from you to look at his best friend and you take the opportunity to chug down the rest of your beer “Sorry, something came up.” 

Seonghwa turns at that and looks at him as well “You good?” 

“I am. Did you guys already eat? I'm starving.” 

“Nope. We're about to order. Let me get you a drink, come here.” And just like that, he disappears from your view and you almost sigh in relief. 

“Are you good?” Seonghwa asks you next and you reckon he's very observant. But then again, you're not the most gracious human being when you're in San’s presence, so, you figure everyone else noticed your change of mood as well. 

“Yeah, I just… I haven't seen him in a while and I didn't think he was coming. I was surprised, that's all.” 

“I can see that,” his eyes move around your face for some reason, frowning a little bit but then he seems to let it go, getting the menu closer to you “Okay, good, um… I actually made the reservation here because they have the best samgyeopsal in town.”  

“Do they?” 

“Mhm, so…” 

He helps you pick your food and when it's time to order, he moves back to his seat. Gyuri asks you with her eyes if you're okay, you nod and grab her hand under the table with a tiny smile and then everyone is moving around to make space for San and Woo once they return. 

He doesn't sit in front of you. 

Relief floods you and you can finally feel your muscles relax as he is so far away, at the other end of the table and in the same row of seats, so you don't really see him unless you really try. 

Which you don't, so your food goes down easy and the rest of the night as well.

Until everyone but you and Seonghwa move around their seats and he ends up right in your point of view as you do your best to ignore him and focus on his friend. 

Seonghwa asks you about your hobbies, you tell him that you love to write movie essays on websites no one even cares to read and he asks you to show it to him so he can look it up when he gets home.

“And you've always done this? Since highschool?” 

You nod and he beams “I read like the first three lines and it looks really good, Y/N. Is that why you love books so much? Because you're a writer?” 

“I wouldn't consider myself a writer but… Sure, I love to write.” 

“Did you know this?” he turns to San and your smile drops a little. 

“Know what?” 

“Your friend is an excellent writer.” 

“Oh, I know. She, uh… Used to write stories on her notebook instead of paying attention in math class,” he sips on his drink and at the detail you didn't know he knew, you turn to him fully “I used to read over her shoulder sometimes.” 

“She's really good.” Seonghwa is looking at your phone, still reading “Really smart, too.” 

San’s jaw tenses a little and you can't understand why “I know.” He says again. 

His friend is none the wiser, blocking your phone and returning it to you “I like it,” he says, smiling and you blush “The essay.” He clarifies after a second, prompting a laugh out of you that he joins. 

San doesn't laugh, but you don't pay attention to him because Seonghwa is asking you something else. 

When it's time to leave the restaurant, Wooyoung suggests going back to his apartment to milk the get-together as much as you all can.

You all throw your napkins at him in feign disgust at the choice of words but you all accept his proposal either way. 

So now you're sitting on the couch, legs crossed and head on Gyuri’s shoulder while you listen to all of them talk (more like argue) about something that happened at their university last week, their voices drowning the soft music playing out of the tiny speaker resting on the counter. 

San is on the floor, to your right. It's hard to keep your eyes off him when you feel him looking at you when you close your eyes and let the noise fade into the background. It's not like you're able to add something to the conversation anyway and Gyuri seems to be drinking her sorrows (not being able to hook Woo up with the girl she told you about) away. 

Your best friend is slurring her words already, drink in hand and index finger pointing at Jongho accusatively because, apparently, the fight they're talking about was his fault. 

“You don't—” she hiccups “You don't even know why it was your fault and it pisses me off even more, you know?” 

“Okay, let me take that.” Taking the drink from her hand and before she starts complaining you stand up to make your way into the kitchen. 

The sink is full and a mess, so you pour the liquid into it and leave the glass sitting right beside it. Distracted by the dilemma of helping Woo out with the dishes or not, you don't notice someone else also entering the space.

That's why you jump a little when you turn and catch Seonghwa leaning on the wall by the entrance. It startles you enough to laugh the nerves out afterwards and he shakes his head, smiling. 

“Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. They're boring me to death with the fight story.” 

You nod, realizing that maybe that's because he doesn't attend the university anymore. He told you he graduated last year “They're too drunk to let it go.” 

“Too drunk to dance to this amazing song, too. Who's playlist is that?” he frowns and you rest your back into the sink, rolling your eyes because he's pretending he doesn't know “Oh! Right, it's mine.” 

“And they just don't know how to appreciate it, huh?” he shrugs and you click your tongue “They're such bad friends, Seonghwa, I truly don't know why you keep them around.” 

“You appreciate it,” it's your turn to frown and he leaves his spot at the wall to walk towards you “You were singing along to it,” he explains and you let out an ah, nodding as he extends his palm to you, clearly inviting you to dance. 

“Oh, I don't… I don't really know how to—” 

“I'll show you.” 

His kind eyes are asking you to trust him. You really, really shouldn't. 

No matter how hard you try to bury the hopeless romantic little girl who decided to have a crush on a guy back in ninth grade, she's still there, begging you to let loose and live a little. 

When you grab Seonghwa’s hand, you think the smile he gives you was worth listening to her. 

You can't even tell the song that's softly playing anymore, a mellow r&b melody reaches your ear but you are not listening. You're focused on him, on the way he spins you around even if it doesn't fit the bit, on the way he laughs softly against your ear when he pulls you close by your hand and then pulls away just as quickly. 

Laughing as well, the spell of this beautiful stranger (because you remind yourself you don't really know him that well) is hard to break. 

Until it does. 

Someone clearing their throat behind you stops you and Seonghwa's feet from moving any further. When the tall, older guy turns you around, you're face to face with San and his scowl. 

“Sorry to interrupt but I need to get started on the dishes. Everyone else is heading out too,” he looks behind you, at the man who's still standing close to you and grabbing your hand “In case you want to ask Mingi for a ride.” 

“They finally stopped fighting!” he fakes excitement, finally letting go of your hand and walking in front of you, blocking San with his body. You chuckle, barely clapping your hands to join the pretense as he's pulling up his phone “Can I ask for your number, Y/N?” 

Blinking a few times, you're not sure if your heart speeds up because he's asking or because you hear San sigh exasperated behind him “S-sure.” 

When you put your information on his phone, he bids you goodbye with a pat on your head and hugs San on his way out the kitchen. 

Now that you two are alone, you suddenly want to run and join Seonghwa. You were doing so, so well. 

Avoiding San like the plague it's much easier when you're safe hiding behind your two best friends. 

Ignoring his stare would be much easier if you weren't stuck into place. 

“I—” 

“You—” 

You both speak over each other and you force out an uncomfortable laugh that he doesn't return. Instead, he motions you to go first while he occupies the space in front of the sink, turning the faucet on. In doing so, he has to grab your waist and move you out of the way which makes you short circuit for a second “I was going to help you with that.” You finally stammer out. 

He lets out what you take as an annoyed chuckle. 

“You seemed busy, I don't know how you would've done it.” 

Ouch. 

Why do you allow his words to cut so deep when you stopped caring about what he does a long time ago? 

The band aid rips, the stitches come undone and all it took him were five seconds to melt your resolve away like it was never there in the first place. 

“I'll… I go get Gyuri so we can leave Woo and you to get to it, then.” 

“Bathroom.” You hear him mutter under his breath as you are taking the final step to leave. 

“Huh?” 

“She's in the bathroom, probably puking her breakfast out,” he looks up at you to give you a tiny smile “You left her alone with Jongho and Woo for five minutes so she got ahold of another drink.” 

“God damnit.” 

Rushing out, you run into everyone else at the door and Mingi has to let go of his very intoxicated girlfriend when she reaches you to give you a hug “Don't be a stranger, Y/N! It was lovely to be around you, hm?” 

The sudden physical contact almost makes you gasp but you cover it up with a shy giggle “O-oh. Yeah, um, lovely to meet you too. All of you.” 

“Sorry about that,” her boyfriend grabs her arms and breaks the hug “She's right, though. Don't be a stranger.” 

You nod once, smiling a little more sincerely now and everyone says bye to you, including Seonghwa, who grabs your hand one last time and gives it a squeeze before closing the front door of the apartment. 

You think you feel your heart skip a tiny bit under all the shit San’s words pulled up to the surface a minute ago. But there's no time to dwell in that: you hear Gyuri opening up the bathroom door before gagging and closing it again with a slam. 

Jesus Christ. 

You two are really getting old. You stopped drinking like an hour ago, when you were starting to feel tipsy after your second beer, and you know she didn't drink as much as she used to maybe four years ago, but the visage that welcomes you when you open the door and find her crouched down in front of the toilet certainly brings back memories of those times. 

“I left you alone for like… five minutes.” Sighing, you lean in to hold her flimsy ponytail and pat her back. 

“I'm good,” she gags again and then holds up her hand to stop you from saying anything else “I'm fine.” 

Smiling, you help her up and she grabs the counter as she's washing away the taste of whatever she ate earlier today and alcohol “Me when I lie…”

“Y/N!” she hits your arm but the movement somehow almost makes her trip. 

“You want to lay down?” 

“Is she okay?” Woo’s head peaks into the bathroom and when he sees his ex, he makes a face. 

“Does she look like she's okay?” you help her out of the bathroom and start heading for Wooyoung's room. 

“Wow, wow— Where do you think you're taking her?” 

“To your room, dumbass!”

“Why mine? San's is literally right there.” He whines, pointing at the door you pass by without a second thought. You don't want to know where his room is or what it looks like at all. 

“Yeah, well, did San get her this drunk?” 

“How was I supposed to know that she was at her almost black-out phase? She never drinks that much in front of me!” he complains again but you're already tugging Gyuri in, who mumbles something incoherent and then flips Wooyoung off “Na Gyuri if you puke on my bed I swear to God!” 

If you didn't know Wooyoung so much, the whining and the attitude would probably make you think he didn't care for her at all. But he's brushing her hair out of her forehead, securing the blanket around her and moving to take her socks off when you reach the door. 

“I'm guessing you're okay with her staying the night?” 

“Of course you guys can stay the night, Y/N.” He says and he stumbles a little to get to you, so you smile and shake your head, about to let him know that you're not staying anywhere near his roommate when he continues “You can come over whenever you like. You know that, right?” 

“I know, Woo.” 

“I barely even see you these days, I… Oh! I forgot!” he points to the end of the hall, towards the kitchen “You guys don't really like each other so maybe don't come over when he's here because I don't want to see you sad!” 

“Lower your voice,” you whisper to him, bringing a hand to his face and patting his cheek a few times to wake him up “Did the alcohol suddenly hit you or something?” you sigh for the umpteenth time “Anyways, you should lay down and I'll get going. I'll come pick her up tomorrow and—” 

“That's such a great idea! Oh, I'm a genius.” 

“You didn't come up with it, Wooyoung.”

“San!” he calls all of the sudden and you wish he was sober enough to read the panic on your features. He seems much, much sober when his best friend starts walking down the hall and stops right beside you “Take Y/N home, please, she's going to give you a bag that you must protect with your life.” 

Said best friend looks at you, his eyebrow arched in a silent question “Gyuri’s stuff.” 

“Ah.”

“Go, go. It's getting late, I'll just… I'll cuddle with my ex until you get home.” 

And she has the nerve to say he doesn't want her back. 

When the door to Wooyoung's room closes and you're left with San on the poorly lit hallway, you make a mental note to never step foot on this place or allow your friends to drink ever again. 

You don't even look at the guy before practically running down the hallway and reaching for your bag. You make sure your phone is secured in your pocket as you slip your shoes on and soon you're grabbing the front door knob and twisting it. 

Keys jingle next to you but, again, you don't spare San a glance. 

“So—” 

“I'll get out of your hair, you don't have to… walk me home or whatever he said.” 

“Y/N, it's late.” 

Turning to him, your smile is as fake as the ones you've been giving him the past couple of years “And I'm a grown up, San, I can walk myself home.” 

“What about Gyuri’s stuff?” 

“She can wear Wooyoung's clothes, it's not like they never shared before. Anyway… Thank you for having me, it was nice to see you. Goodnight.” Your response comes out fast and it sounds as planned out as it actually is, kinda robotic and devoid of actual emotion. 

San can't see through you the way you see through him. It's okay, he won't mind it. 

He probably won't mind that you close his own door on his face either. 

If that door is what you hear when you're making your way down the stairs in order to make a fast escape, you choose to ignore it. 

You have to stop mid-way to compose yourself. You don't know why you feel like crying or why your heart is beating so fast. 

You knew going in that there was a possibility of seeing him tonight. You know how San affects you, so effortless and seemingly like no time has passed at all in between senior year and present day. 

You know all of this already, it's an endless loop that will keep repeating until you either move away or decide to stop agreeing to Wooyoung's plans all together. 

So why is your chest heaving with emotion? Why is nostalgia playing mind tricks with you? Why do you want to turn back and hug him and beg him to turn back time so you can do it all differently now that you know how to look like and what to say to make him love you back? 

Ah, you're definitely not sleeping tonight. So you start distracting yourself while walking down the stairs again. You remind yourself to tell a much sober Wooyoung how proud you are of him. You think about Seonghwa, about his kind eyes and the way he grabbed your hand to dance with him just half an hour ago. You wonder how long it will take you to get home if you jog all the way there. You—

Why the fuck is San outside when you get there? 

In a comedic way, you can see your attempt to distract your mind off of him slipping through your fingers and evaporating in the warm summer night breeze. 

In a realistic way, you're fucking pissed at him for taking the opportunity of a good night sleep away from you. 

You pass him and start jogging like you planned a minute ago. Footsteps follow you until his arm brushes yours and you take a step to the side to stop it from happening again. 

“Go home, Choi San.” 

“Stop fighting it, Y/N. I'm walking you home.” 

“It's a twenty minute walk—” 

“Drop it.” 

You do. And for the first ten minutes, no one utters a word even if the tension feels electric and the street is so quiet so you can hear when his breath accelerates when he jogs to catch up to you whenever you try to leave him behind. 

Isn't that ironic. He was the one who left you behind all those years ago. 

“I didn't know that you danced.” 

He breaks the uncomfortable but safe silence to say that? 

“Well, you saw me dance so I clearly dance when I want to.” 

“You never danced with me.” 

“You never asked me to.” 

He laughs “I'm pretty sure I did on several occasions, Y/N.” 

“Well, you're wrong,” you're getting annoyed. How dare he think he remembers better than you? “It doesn't matter anyway, what's past is past and—” 

“You also gave Hwa your number,” he interrupts, his long legs taking two strides to get in front of you, still walking, facing your direction with his hands on his pockets. 

It's dangerous and stupid, even if the streets are practically empty and the sidewalk barely has any bumps. 

You hope he falls on his pretty face.

“I did.* 

“I don't have your number.” 

“Well, I changed it and you never asked for it, so…” 

“You could've called me or texted me to let me know you did it.” 

He's getting on your nerves.

“San,” you start, taking in a deep breath you hope calms you down “We don't even text anymore, why would you want my number?” 

“Do you like him?” 

“Seonghwa?” you ask, frowning and he nods “Like… As a person?” 

“As a potential love interest.” He clarifies matter-of-factly and you roll your eyes. 

“I met him today, San. Why do you want my number?” 

“Because we're friends?” he offers after a second, shifting so he's walking by your side again. 

“Are we?” you ask, laughing bitterly at that “Because we haven't spoken a word to each other in years.” 

“That's not true.” 

“It is, San.” 

“You… You don't speak to me anymore, so…” 

“Well your girlfriend at the time told me she didn't feel comfortable with me speaking to you anymore,” you sigh “so I didn't and you didn't try to talk to me either.” 

“Well, I want to talk to you now.” 

“And is your new girlfriend aware of that? Is she comfortable with that? Because I don't want anyone telling me what to do anymore and—” 

“Why wouldn't she be comfortable? We're friends, Y/N.” 

“Are we?” you insist, petty, bitter and overall very, very hurt. 

He looks offended at that “I assumed we were?” 

He's getting on your fucking nerves. 

“We stopped being friends the second Minseo asked me to stay away from you because she didn't like me, San.” 

“She’s not in my life anymore—” 

The words are coming out of your mouth without even thinking it through. His demeanor, the way he's somehow reproaching you for whatever he saw between you and his friend, the way he pretends nothing happened between you and him, thinking that you two are still friends. 

“We stopped being friends when you pulled away from me, saw me do the same and did nothing to stop it from happening, San.” 

He stops in his tracks at that. You don't, pushing forward and quickening your step even if your calves burn. 

“Either way,” you speak up “Make sure you tell your girlfriend about wanting my number and then you can ask Seonghwa for it if you want—” 

“She's not my girlfriend anymore!” 

Now that stops you, just a few buildings down from yours, you turn around just to find San closer that you thought he'll be.

“O-oh. I… I didn't know that. I'm sorry.” 

“You didn't do anything to be sorry for.” 

“Still, it must suck so I'm sorry you're going through that.” 

“We didn't want the same things and so we ended it. It is what it is.” 

You nod. 

He walks the few steps separating you and you have to raise your chin a little to look him in the eye for the first time since you left his apartment “I wanted to tell you.” 

“That you broke up with your girlfriend?” 

“Yeah, I don't know why. It happened when I broke up with Minseo too, I just… You're the first person that I thought of calling when it happened. I texted you, too, but the messages didn't go through.” 

You hum at that. 

Why would he even say that? 

You resume your step, not really knowing what to say until you reach the stairs that lead to your building’s entrance. 

“And you didn't ask Woo for my number?” 

He follows you up. 

“I don't think he would've given it to me if I asked.” 

That sounds like an excuse, so you don't let it slide as you enter the code to your building and let yourself inside, San holding the door so he can get in as well “Why would he do that?” 

“Because he…” San sighs, pressing the elevator button “Nevermind. He just wouldn't.”

Frowning, you turn to him “No, now you have to tell me.” 

“It doesn't matter, really—” 

“Tell me, San.” 

He stares for a second and then looks away, like a child, vulnerable and you can't help but soften at that “He didn't like the way I treated you.” 

Eating your words from before, you shake your head “You didn't treat me like anything.” 

The elevator dings and you get inside. 

San follows you. 

“Exactly,” he says, resting his shoulder on the metal “Like you said I just did nothing and—” 

“Well, sometimes that's just what happens,” you want to end this. You want to pack Gyuri’s bag, give it to him and never see him again. 

This conversation hurts, it reopens barely closed wounds and it creates new ones you don't really need when it comes to whatever happened between you two. 

There's only so much a person can handle and it really doesn't help that you're a fool for San. He takes advantage of it, of the fact you can't really push him away at this point and the fact that he wants to have this conversation now instead of four and half years ago? 

Mean. 

He's mean. He's evil. He's… He's staring at you with a spark in his eyes that you recognize too well. 

Hope. 

When you get to your floor, you try to wipe the image away while busying yourself with your keys. Your hands tremble a little but you're able to open the door of your apartment and get in without inviting him. 

He gets in anyway. You take off your shoes as he closes the front door. 

He stays silent as he follows you around the apartment and you don't worry about turning the lights on. You get into Gyuri’s room and start picking out a comfy hangover outfit for your friend. Some clean underwear, sweatpants, two shirts and socks. 

When you drop to the floor, in front of the closet, to look for a bag to stash all of it in, San silently clutches beside you. 

“It shouldn't have happened to us. Never us.” 

You can't take it anymore. 

“San, what is this? What are you doing? I mean, why are we—” 

“I know.” 

“It's been years…”  

“I miss you.” 

He's so mean. But the softness in his tone resembles the one he used all the way back in highschool, when he told you that not being friends with you didn't feel right and you want to cave in right there and then. 

Your heart screams at you to do it, your reason warns you that you both have been through this before and it never ends right. 

You simply can't stay friends with Choi San. 

Your love for him must run too deep, your resentment claws at it and tries to hurt it but it's an immovable force that won't budge even if you try to bury it under the years that have passed, the things he has done. 

Tears gather in your eyes and you try to blink them away as you stare at your best friend's clothes on your lap and try to come up with something to close this path up again, reconstruct the picket fence you built around it the second he broke your heart for the first time. 

“Yeah,” you whisper back, letting the walls fall a little “I miss you too but I don't think I miss whatever version of you you are right now, San.” 

“W-what?”

His shaky voice makes the walls crumble and crash. 

Turning to him, your hand shakes as you place it on top of his “And you don't miss the version of me I am right now. You miss what I was back then, the comfort and the shoulder to cry on I offered you when Arin and you broke up. You miss my availability and the way I didn't press my feelings on you because it didn't matter if I liked you or not, you were my friend first and the guy that I had a crush second but—” you choke up, tears falling down your cheeks even if you don't want them to “I can't do it anymore. I'm not that girl anymore and I won't be there for you now that you and Kyungmi broke up because I can't handle it. I can't, I'm sorry.” 

He doesn't deny any of it.

He stares at you, tears wetting his cheeks as well and it hurts even more this way. You wish you had the strength to hold it together, to treat him like you did on the street a few minutes ago, but you can't. 

There's no way you could ever hate him like you want to. 

“You know…” he starts in a whisper, letting out a humorless chuckle “That's what I used to tell myself too.” 

“Hm?” 

“That you were my friend first and the girl that I had a crush on second.” 

How dare he mutter the words you always wanted to hear, the ones you picture being said in a different setting, the ones that haunted your every waking thought that period of time you doubted your friends, your mom, yourself for even believing Choi San could ever have a crush on you. 

He doesn't get to say them. You want to tell him but the words die on your throat and form a lump that you can't swallow down. 

You don't get to say that. You don't get to say that. 

Your hand drops from his and you look away again only to grab the first bag you find on the closet floor and shove Gyuri’s stuff in it. 

If the lack of response it's what prompts the hurt in his voice the next time he speaks, you don't want to think about it. 

“I wish I didn't. Now it's too late to do something about it, huh?” 

This time the rage comes back with a mask on. Feing settlement for all the what if’s covers you like a blanket on a really hot summer night: unwanted, unnecessary. 

But you can't sleep without it, so you do nothing to push it away. 

“I guess it is.” 

You get up from the floor, leaving the room and wiping your face with bitterness coating your movements as you wait by the door for him to get out. 

When he does and he steps in front of you, you extend the bag and he takes it without missing a beat. 

Voice robotic and words premeditated, you open the front door for him “Thanks for walking me home and taking this back.” 

He leans a little into your space and you don't move away. But just as he did in highschool, he takes in your hitched breath and does nothing more.

“Thanks for letting me talk to you.” 

He didn't give you much of a choice there but it's okay. This is closure, this is the end of your story with Choi San and you convince yourself you're glad that it is. 

“Sure,” you whisper back and he steps outside, turning around to watch you slowly close the door “goodnight, San.” 

He doesn't say it back. 

When the darkness of your apartment engulfs you, that's when you let yourself breakdown. Covering your mouth with your palm, you descend until your knees are against the wood on the floor and closing your eyes you make it a point to let it all out. 

You'll let it all out, drink some water, text Wooyoung and Gyuri to let them know you're safe and go to bed. 

And tomorrow you'll begin your day with the freedom of finally knowing what would've happened if you or San ever took the next step. 

This is fine. This is moving on. This is— 

The doorbell rings. 

Opening the door again, you crease your eyebrows in a silent question that San doesn't care to answer, so you look around the floor in case he forgot something you're missing. You wipe your cheeks and under your eyes as you turn to him again “Did you—” 

Time slows down when he makes it past the threshold and you can't move an inch, gaping at who you once thought was the love of your life “What are you doing, San?” 

“Something about it.” 

“What?” 

“Forgive me,” he asks, breathless and in a murmur, fueling your confusion. And then he's closing the distance, dropping Gyuri’s bag and cupping your face so gently that it hurts “but I'm doing something about it.” 

You stopped dreaming about the possibility of San kissing you that one time you two were on your bed and, another time, you told yourself that, if it ever happened, you wouldn't kiss him back. 

It's too late to kiss him back. 

But sparks fly when he crushes you against the wall and takes in a breath before slothing his mouth against yours like he's been waiting to do this every single day for the past nine years you've known each other. 

There's nothing you can do to conceal the way yearning takes over you, pours out of you, making you breathe into his open mouth and kiss him back like you always wanted to. 

You already know it is a mistake by the time you grab his shirt to keep him in place but does it really matter when this is all you ever wanted? 

Feeling warmth leave your face, you notice the way he desperately crowds your space as his chest bumps into yours, leg claiming its place in between yours, the palm that leaves you pressing against the wall, next to your head. 

The kiss is filled with emotion, with longing and desire and it steals the air out of your lungs tragically and beautifully at the same time. Before, you used to dream about his lips making everything feel right, making you fit in in a world you didn't feel like you belonged to. 

But this kiss drops you into uncharted territory, drags you into the depths of something that should be buried by now, after all this time. It brings the flame back to life and it's dangerous. 

The fact that it feels this way, both marvelous and catastrophic at the same time, makes you so sad. 

Sorrow descends down your face until your mouth is picking it up and your tongue is mixing it with whatever emotion is cruising through San right now. 

You have to know. 

He spent your entire youth and early adulthood keeping it to himself, knowing when to show his true colors and when to hide them, choosing who to do it with and you realize the San that lives in your head is nothing but a figment of what you wanted him to be. 

Because him holding to your waist like it's his only lifeline doesn't fit the San you remember, him telling you he liked you back then doesn't fit the guy who was just your best friend. 

You need to know. 

“San,” brokenly, you speak into his mouth and he pulls away just enough to see your face. Your eyes remain closed, your chest heaving and your lips trembling “Why are you doing this?” 

“Because I want you, Y/N.” 

You push him away, weakly, almost like you don't really mean it because deep down you don't but he steps away like you're asking to. 

Because, of course, your mind scraps the bottom of your resentment to give his words a completely new meaning. 

“You can find another girl to fuck and be your rebound, San,” more tears spill down and you wipe them away in anger but more threat to fall down so you cover your face with your hands and groan, desperate “I can't do this, especially not when I know that you know how bad I wanted you. Y-you know what you do to me San so stop—”

“I want you in my life. I don't— What? I don't want you like a rebound, I… Can we sit down and turn on a light so I can look at you when I say this?” 

His words should be reassuring but they're not, the way you tend to feel unlovable around him coming up to the surface, preventing you from thinking clearly. 

You can also feel his lips on yours still. It's dizzying but you manage to push yourself off the wall and pad around until you hit the switch of the warm light lamp near the couch and the apartment comes to life just like that. 

He takes in the space he's never seen before, walking slowly towards the living room and looking over the bookshelf that screams your name all over it. He smiles a bit as he looks over the book titles and you look away before your heart starts acting up again. 

You can't stay mad at him for long if he's looking through something so personal to you and smiling that fondly at it. It feels even more intimate than the kiss you two just shared. 

Wiping your cheeks once more, you are sure you look a mess but he doesn't seem to mind it once he comes into your point of view, sitting down on the couch, in front of your standing form. He grabs you by your hands until you're sitting next to him, close to him, cologne intoxicating your senses. 

“I told you I liked you when we were in highschool, right?” 

You nod. 

“You seemed surprised but it was dark so I'm not really sure. I thought you knew, everyone knew.” 

Oh, he's a comedian. 

“How would I have known, San? I… Yeri told me you liked me one time, in senior year, but I denied it. Then, my mom told me you seemed to want me in a non-platonic way and I dismissed her as well,” you take in a deep, shaky breath “For me, the thought of you liking me just didn't make sense. You loved Arin and she's… She doesn't look or act like I did back then at all, so how would I have known?” 

You didn't need clues and puzzles and what if’s, you needed words and actions that weren't confusing. You needed him to tell you back then, because telling you right now and kissing you senseless after he broke up with a girl he supposedly was very in love with means nothing but pain. 

“I didn't realize you liked me too,” you make a face, about to tell him off, but he interrupts “I didn't! I thought you liked Yeri and I thought you saw me as the annoying guy who wouldn't leave you alone. I only just realized it a couple years ago, because Woo told me.” 

You raise your eyebrows and mutter under your breath “I'm murdering him tomorrow.” 

The corner of his lips twitch before he shakes his head in dismissal of what you said “I liked you. I really, really liked you and never told a soul because… Well, it's scary when you fall in love, right?” 

“San, you had no problem telling Arin, Minseo or Kyungmi that you liked them.” 

He looks down to the floor, lost in thought and you want to open your mouth to take what you just said into a new direction, but you don't “Maybe that's because I didn't love them the way I love you.” 

Oh. 

Love you? As in… He loves you right now too? 

No way. 

“You didn't love me, San. You don't love me right now either, you… Maybe we both were in love with the idea of love? Maybe that's what happened and—” 

“Quit telling me what I'm feeling, Y/N. You always do that, you always assume you know what I'm feeling but you don't!” 

Raising your voice a little more, you try to get your point across in the worst way possible: by being stubborn “You don't know me! How can you possibly—” 

“I knew you back then, Y/N! And I loved you back then, too!” He looks like wants to say something more but he doesn't, instead, he takes a calming breath and then leans into your space for the third time tonight “And I might not know you now but I want to. That's what I meant when I said that I want you. I want you in my life, I want to know the person you became when we stopped talking, I want to talk to you every single day and I want to hold you and kiss you and be by your side however you want me to, I just… I can't lose you again.” 

His confession renders you speechless and you notice his chest is heaving, going up and down in sync with yours. 

But the way he pulled away from you senior year still hurts, it paints a picture of what's going to happen if you accept this. 

You can't believe his words. 

He must feel lonely and confused, like he did when Arin broke up with him. He must be looking for a shelter you can't provide. 

“And when you find another girl that's more to your liking? What then, San?” 

“There's no one that I love more than you, Y/N and I'm sorry I was shit at proving it back then and I'm sorry that it took so many years for me to come to my senses.” 

He's tearing up and your heart pangs absurdly loud at that. 

“I saw you with Seonghwa earlier today, laughing and dancing and flirting and I thought: Oh, maybe if I didn't waste that much time pretending I'm someone I'm not, that would be me.” 

You stare for a second, you watch a single tear drop down his cheek and then look away. 

“Is that what you were doing? Is that why you pulled away?” 

“Maybe?” he offers and you turn to him again. Is not enough and maybe he can see it in your expression, because he goes on “I mean, I… I thought I wanted Arin. I thought I wanted Minseo. I had people in my life who were really happy to see me with them and I just…” 

“Wanted to keep them happy,” you nod, understanding. He doesn't have to say his mothers name for you to know he's referring to her and maybe his other highschool friends outside of Wooyoung “Were you pretending with me as well?” 

“No,” he answers right away “You and Woo were the only ones who saw me for who I really was back then.” 

“And why do you think you love me now, San?” you ask, deflating against the couch and ignoring the way your heart soars at his quick response.

“Because I never stopped,” he stammers out and then clears his throat “Because I looked for you in Minseo and Kyungmi and I wondered for years why they couldn't make me feel the same way. And I told myself I didn't need to feel the same way and that I deserved to wonder for the rest of my days but seeing you tonight? I can't.” 

Straightening your spine, the pained look you sent in his direction is not intentional but it prompts him to lean closer and closer until he's cupping your cheek again. 

“I can't keep wondering.” His voice is a sweet whisper, a siren song that draws you in until your forehead is resting against his. 

All these years, you were so self-focused on changing to a better version of who he used to know, learning from your mistakes and closing off to the opportunity of letting him prove himself a better man, you forgot that time passed for him too. He’s telling you he changed, too. 

Imagination is a safe space. Is where you hide, where desire can take its wings and fly high without hurting you too much. Make belief has rescued you before but this? The way his nose nuzzles softly into yours and your breaths tangle? This is very real. And reality is prone to hurt you. 

But the want you feel is undeniable. The way your entire being wants to cave in and give him an opportunity is suffocating, it makes you choke out a sob that he follows with one of his own. 

You kiss him, softly at the beginning, but his hands on you tighten and you let yourself get lost in the way they go down your neck and your arms, caressing you softly until they reach your waist and pull you into his lap. 

Pulling away, you grab his chin with two fingers and force his teary eyes to snap open, searching for an answer on yours.

“If you hurt me,” you start, breathless “If you're mocking me, if you're using me to get over Kyungmi, if you are pulling me back in to break my heart again, Choi San, I swear to God I will kill you.” 

“I won't do that to you ever again, Y/N,” he returns softly “I love you, I'm sorry if I ever hurt you but I love you.” 

Others would argue that it is pathetic how quickly you forgive him. But then again, you could never be mad at San. 

You were only mad at yourself for how everything turned out. 

“I love you too, Sannie.” 

Saying something never felt so freeing before. 

“Oh, Y/N…” you can see the way relief washes his worries away “Y/N…” he starts to say but then leans in to kiss you again and never finishes his words. 

You don't mind it. 

Pouring out all the pent up affection you pretended to bury for years, you explore his mouth and carve into your memory the way he feels. The way he sighs into it when your tongue brushes his, the way he pulls you in closer when your fingers reach the nape of his neck and pull on his hair there, hands splayed on your back so he can keep you in place as he leans down and places you against the worn out couch. 

He maps you out, hands going down your waist in a familiar feeling that brings back that memory of you two laying down on your bed. Only this time, he's actually touching you with a purpose. This time, you two have made up your minds and your limbs are tangled in a way you can feel all of him pressing up against you. 

It starts to get stuffy, the space on the couch not nearly enough to have him the way you want to. Soon, you're both standing up, mouths still moving against each other and hands roaming everywhere until you're undoing the buttons on his shirt. 

He pulls away to fully take it off, eyes never leaving yours, dropping the shirt to the ground, next to the couch and then he's on you again, making your back crash into the wall as he works the knots keeping your blouse together. 

He walks you through the hall, stopping only to take your top off and then he's walking you to a room that has a familiar scent that doesn't belong to you.

“Wrong room, wrong room,” you say into his lips and he laughs, looking to your surroundings “Mine’s over there.” you point to the other end of the hall, taking his hand and pulling him towards it. 

You don't make it far before he's yanking you towards him again. He looks down, taking your body in and you do the same, his firm and defined stomach a sight you never thought you would be able to see. 

“You're so beautiful,” he whispers, backing you against the wall again and kissing your cheek “So, so beautiful.” 

Turning your head to chase his mouth, he lets out a heavy sigh when his lips trail a path to your neck and murmurs against the skin there “I never told you how beautiful I found you before but you're so perfect, baby.” 

“I always thought I wasn't your type, San,” you let out a noise when he grabs your hips and pulls you forward, crashing his into yours “Fuck.” 

“And I always thought you were too much for me, too smart,” he kisses his way back up, focusing on your jaw and chin until he's kissing your cheek again “too pretty,” he moves to your ear, pecking right under it and you hold him closer “too good for me.” 

It doesn't really matter that this is all new to you, the way he's speaking, the tenor of his voice, the things he's saying… It sparks something familiar in you. You're pulling his hair back to make him look at you, a moan slipping out of his lips at that. 

You want to hear it again. 

He's smiling at your reaction, hand tightening on his locks.

However, that smile drops when he seems to recognize the gleam in your eyes. 

You gather up courage, feeling empowered by the way his hooded eyes darken but wait patiently for you to speak your mind. 

“Maybe I'm too good for you now, too,” you lean in, your lips softly tracing his “Maybe you should prove to me that you deserve me, San.” 

It's a dare. One that he seems to like a lot because his eyes sparkle with the same fire they used to back in the day. 

“Oh, I'll prove it to you, alright.” He whispers, panting when you let go of his hair and he leans into you to kiss your lips briefly before pulling away again.

His hand tilts your head back and you rest it against the cold wall, his fingers touch your bottom lip before going down and down and down until they rest against the seam of your pants, unbuttoning them in one swift movement. 

Going back up, his nails softly dig into your skin and you preen, taking the soft sting of his ministrations like you two have done this a million times before.  

His mouth is on yours again, his hands are pulling you off the wall and into your room until you two land on your mattress with a soft tud, a moan spilling out of your lips when he sloths his knee in between your legs and pulls them apart with expertise. 

You don't have the mind to break down what that means. 

Opening your eyes when he kisses down your neck again, you notice your room is barely lit by the street lights outside, curtains pulled open and windows closed but, this way, you can see the way San kisses between your breasts and your belly, catching his eyes when he looks up to measure your reaction. 

You sigh, already feeling some sort of build up going on down there and he hasn't even touched you properly yet. 

You don't even want to think about how wet you actually are. 

He leans back, open palms going down your legs slowly until they reach your feet. It tickles and you can't help but let out a giggle that he joins short after, his gaze never losing the edge because of it, though. 

“San…” 

He guides your hips up so he can take off your pants and you sigh when his hands return, raising your leg up “I missed your laugh,” he says low, attaching his lips to your calf “I miss being the one making you laugh too.” 

You feel like crying again but then he's letting your leg down and grabbing the other one to give it the same treatment, so your tears can wait. 

This time, he moves upwards till his mouth nears your clothed center and your breath hitches. 

Yeah, you can definitely cry later.

“You want me to prove to you how much I want you, Y/N?” he murmurs, his lips ghosting your mound now “How much I love you?” 

“San, p-please…” 

“Fuck, look at you.” He sounds like he's too lost in the heat of the moment and you're kind of grateful, because the moan you let out when his fingers hook on your underwear and pull them to the side to expose your pussy to his hungry eyes is loud. 

When he kisses you right where you need him, you let out another moan. And when he parts your folds to lick a stripe up to your clit, you curse him under you breath until he's laughing against you softly, the vibrations accumulating heat on your belly. 

He doesn't tease you much longer and you look down at him just to catch the moment his self control slips, eating you out like a man starved while his hand stays on your hip to hold you down and keep you underwear from interrupting his feast. 

“This is like,” he dives in again for a few seconds and you grab the sheets beneath you “All my fantasies coming to life but better.” 

He's so chatty during this and the only thing you can do is stammer a yeah? and pray for it to reach his ears.

“Mhm,” the circles your clit with the tip of his tongue and your legs shake “Taste even better than what I dreamed, too.” 

The heat of his mouth leaves you, lips spreading your wetness through your stomach until he fully reaches your face, your eyes closed and lips already waiting for him. 

Tongue caressing yours, your hands trail down his torso and focus on getting his pants off. You're shaking with excitement so it proves to be more difficult than you imagined at first but he helps you in unbuckling his belt. 

Once the piece of clothing is one the floor (or the bed, you're not really paying attention on where it lands), you don't waste time in feeling him up through his boxers. 

The hiss you get in return makes you smile. 

Bringing your lips to his neck, you suckle on this pulse point and gain another pleased noise before grazing your teeth against skin and moving to his collarbone next.

In a way, you get what he means. If he truly was pining over you the way you were pining over him, the thought of exploring his tan skin and making him moan feels like a dream. 

So you kiss him again in order to make it all last longer. 

The minutes pass between the both of you, softly making out and figuring out what gets both of you going, discarding your underwear in the process. 

You realize your moans make San’s cock twitch against your leg and he seems to notice the way your hips buck up everytime his hands handle you more roughly. 

After a few minutes of just this, you feel his hand making its way down again and the pads of his fingers circle your clit until you're grasping the sheets again. He gathers your arousal and then enters one finger slowly and when it slides in and out with ease, he enters the next one. 

There's really not much prepping he needs to do, already soft and compliant under him, you relax into his comfortable touch before you're aching for something else. And your mouth is preoccupied with his, so you do something else to catch his attention. 

Hands caressing his back, you let them drop to his ass with a soft smack that wins you a soft huff on amusement and then a whine when you move his hips towards yours. 

“Condom?” 

You shake your head “I'm clean and I have an implant.” 

“Oh?” he smirks, about to tease you but you squeeze his butt again and he moans “Fuck. I'm clean too.” 

“Good,” you whisper against his cheek, laughing as he arranges his position. 

And he might've been touching you all this time, kissing you until your mind emptied and your lips are all swollen up, but the look on his eyes when he slowly enters you is what might drive you over the edge. 

Grabbing your hands, he pins them on the side of your head as he moves, dropping his head down with a groan as you take him in, nose touching yours and moth whispering sweet things you can't quite pick up. 

He feels so good. 

This all feels way too good to be real. 

In the cloud you're at, you allow yourself to dream a little more before the reality of what your confessions mean dawns on you. 

For now, you allow San to make love to you. Sweetly, slowly and with a passion you never were lucky enough to encounter before. 

Maybe it's because your previous lovers didn't have your heart the way San does. 

He rams his hips into yours hard, closing his eyes and resting his warm cheek against yours, kissing your face inch by inch when you accompany his movements with your own. 

When his pace picks up, you hug him close and secure your legs around his hips as you moan. 

“Y-yes, fuck.” 

“Like that?” he repeats the movement from before, pulling out and then in with such force it rocks the entire bed. 

“Just like that, baby, fuck.” 

“God, you sound so good,” you smile a little, forehead resting on his shoulder before your head falls down against your pillow again “I love you,” he repeats against your lips, letting your hands go to cup your face with both of his again “I love you so much.” 

Teetering over the edge, you feel happy tears stinging in your eyes. Though closed, you can feel San’s stare on you, on your face, on the way you react to his sweet words and relentless pace. 

You say it back in a whisper and he repeats it again and again and again until you're both coming and tears are spilling down your cheeks. 

He kisses them away. 

You wipe his with trembling fingers as you come down, having trouble breathing from everything that just happened. 

You don't feel suffocated anymore, you feel like you've been freed. Like this was supposed to happen at some point and you two finally got around to it. 

“I love you,” he says once more before slipping out of you with a parting kiss. 

Holy shit. 

When San gets up from the bed and you point him to the bathroom, down the hallway, you're left with a sticky mess in between your legs and a lot to think about but you settle on four things. 

San just made love to you. There's no way that was just sex. 

There's also no way you're coming back from this. 

Gyuri is probably going to kill you. 

And that, obviously, your feelings for San never left. You feel the familiar warmth of them spreading through your post-orgasmic state. They're there, mocking you, asking you who the fuck you thought you were for pushing them away. 

He returns, toilet paper in his hands before leaning in and cleaning you up, lips immediately finding home on your skin as he does. 

You both giggle at that.

You probably need to shower but you've been crying and there's no way you're leaving this bed tonight. He throws the paper away on your bedroom’s trashcan and then crashes into the bed next to you, still naked, still looking at you with so much love you're wondering what stopped you from seeing it was there before. 

Taking his hand, you bring it to his lip and give his knuckles a peck “That was really good.” 

“It was.” 

“I can't believe we actually just did that…” 

He smiles and what he says next shocks you even more than his confession “I want to take you out.” 

“San… You just came inside me not even ten minutes ago.” 

“And?” you laugh and he shakes his head, leaning into your space again “I spent many years doing everything wrong, let me do it the right way.” 

“Making love to me one time and then taking me out on a date is not the right way, sir.” 

He nuzzles your cheek with his nose and you let out a pleased sigh “Who said it was just one time, huh?” Attacking your neck with his lips again, you push him away with a laugh. 

“Oh, come on!” 

He laughs as well “Give me ten minutes and I'll make it two!” 

San makes love to you two more times. And by four in the morning, you're snuggled into his arms and sleeping soundly. 

When you wake up and find the space next to you empty, you think it was all a dream. Your naked form begs to differ and you quickly put the t-shirt you usually wear to bed on and your panties underneath it to go out and face the feelings of your actions fighting with the blender in the kitchen. 

“How do you two live with this stupid thing?” 

“We don't,” you answer, startling him “We don't use it. What are you trying to make?” 

San’s shirtless, wearing his pants and his hair messy. Looking back at the living room clock, you see it's just five past ten. 

Smiling as he approaches you, you forget you must look a mess too when he pecks your lips and barely pulls away “Good morning, beautiful.” 

You pretend to cringe at that, pulling away “Oh, God. Morning, dumbass.” 

“You like it, you're blushing,” he points out and the pink on your cheek deepens as he's going back to the blender “Does anything work here?” 

“The microwave,” you shrug “And the stove. Were you trying to make yourself a…” you look over the ingredients he has pulled out of your fridge “Green juice?” 

“I was trying to make both of us a green juice,” he corrects and your heart skips at the immediate domestic attitude he has with you “But now I can tell neither of you drink anything like it, hm? I'm buying you a blender.” 

“Please don't.” 

“Why?” 

“Why do you think that one is broken?” 

He hums, huffing out a laugh seconds later and you walk over to him, unsure on how to approach him even though what you did yesterday night and earlier this morning didn't allow your shyness to step in. 

Now you're feeling it. 

He can tell, because he stops fighting with the steel appliances to grab your waist and pull you close “I wanted to make you breakfast.” 

“We can make breakfast together and I can order your green juice,” you compromise and he nods, but he doesn't let you go “And later we can go out on that date you promised me yesterday and we can go over what we're going to tell the two idiots.” 

His smile drops. 

“Oh, fuck.” 

Grimacing, you nod “It was the second thing I thought about after waking up.” 

“What was the first?” 

“Oh, I was trying to remember if you ever asked me to dance before,” he nods with a smile “Guess what? You didn't.” 

He fake gasps at that “I did!” 

“No, you didn't!” 

“Babe, yes I did,” he insists and you laugh, which prompts him to wrap his hands around you tighter when you try to get away from him “It was when—” 

“Oh. My. God. I'm going to be sick again.” 

Now when the fuck did Gyuri come back. 

And why is Wooyoung with her too, jaw slack as he watches both of you pull away from each other and create a safe distance that doesn't help whatever your best friends just saw. 

“It worked?” he asks and you can barely hear him until he hollers like a crazy person “Oh, it worked! I am a genius!” 

“Wooyoung, hold me! I'm going to kill them!” Gyuri looks like she's about to launch towards you at any second now, so you close your eyes and accept your fate. But nothing happens “Wait— What worked?” 

When you open them again, San is hiding behind you and Gyuri’s back is to both of you as she looks at Wooyoung with, what you assume, murderous intentions. 

“Gyuri, let's talk about this,” the black haired guy puts his hands up “You were too drunk to discuss it so I made the choice of— Gyuri, no!” 

You burst into laughter when she starts chasing him around the apartment and San giggles as well, only more nervous than delighted by their little cat and mouse game. 

He's probably sensing he's next on her hit list. 

As if you would let anything happen to him in the first place. 

“Stop, stop! I'm sorry, please leave me alone!” you hear Wooyoung’s voice echoing through your hall and in a second he's entering the kitchen, rounding you and San “I'm so happy for you guys, really, this was meant to happ— Stop!” He cries when Gyur catches onto him and yanks his hair to stop him from running.  

“Y/N,” she starts, chest heaving and you take a step back, crashing into San’s chest. He holds onto you only to push you a little and protect himself from the fury of your best friend “When I told you fuck him I didn't meant this!” 

“I know.” 

Wooyoung whines but he can't get away from her grasp so he just accepts it and pouts like a child. 

“A-and you!” She points towards the guy resting his chin on your shoulder “How dare you! If this is something casual for you then—” 

“I love her.” He defends himself quickly and your heart all but stops at that. 

“You do?” Wooyoung coos, amazed at his best friend’s confession. 

Gyuri's anger falters at that. 

“You… You do?” 

“And I love him,” you let out in a shy whisper, smiling a bit “But you already knew that.” 

“Of course I already knew that, bitch, I am your other half,” she makes a point to stare at San as she says it, letting Wooyoung go and he massages the part of his scalp that was targeted by his ex “Don't forget that.” 

“Y-yes ma'am.” 

You laugh again and Woo joins the embrace, eyeing you both expectantly and rolling his eyes when neither of you say anything to him “Well, you are so welcome guys. What are we having for breakfast?” 

You and San don't get to go out on that date. 

But when you do, he asks you to be his girlfriend the next day. 

And when you say yes he almost breaks down in excited tears.

Eventually, even Gyuri comes around and threatens him into treating you right, which means he earned her seal of approval. 

You delete the document on your laptop when you find it a month into being his girlfriend and, instead, start drafting your new beginning on it, in first person this time because the story doesn't feel like it belongs to someone else now.

The first line read as it follows: 

How did I ever think San and I could be just friends? 

If you read all the way down here: THANK YOU SO MUCH. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated!

© jensthwa, 2024.

[tyunniez]

2... bttm male reader

a/n,, this fic was inspired by this fanfic that u shuld totes check out!! i wrote this a long time ago so,,,, pls give some feedback cs idk how to feel abt this one

You hated the number two. 

To other people, it was just your everyday number but to you, it reminded you of your failures. Of how you always ended up number two no matter what.

Always second to him.

Aone Kashimoto. Someone you considered your ultimate rival.

 Back in middle school you were the number one in your class. Number one in the whole school. Yet when the new kid came, everything just started falling apart.

 Now instead of you, he was always at the top. 

 No matter how hard you tried. The countless nights of you studying your ass off, pulling all nighters after all nighters. Only to end up as second.

 Even when you tried to run for the student council president in your final year of highschool you still somehow ended up second. As the vice-president for Aone.

 And what was more frustrating was that he knew. He knew how pathetic you felt when you first saw your name dropped down one spot. He knew how hard you have been trying to beat him. Yet, he knows you will never ever surpass him.

 Why? Because he's better than you. In every aspect. Be it academics, sports, or even popularity. Where you lacked he made up for it times a hundred.

 And oh, he loves seeing that look of despair wash over you. The feeling of superiority he has over you. God, he always checks your reaction first before even looking at his own score on the scoreboard just to see the disappointment on your face.

⊹₊⋆

 Students gather around the scoreboard, excitement and dread filling the corridor. 

 "Hey, who do you think is first this semester?" a distant voice whispered. "Are you dumb? Of course it's Aone! And then y/n will come second like he usually does." The two voices snickered as they searched for their own name on the board.

 The murmurs of the crowd got louder as the two most popular names finally arrived. One seemed relaxed whilst the other not so much.

 Your jaw was tight. You could feel your fingers digging into your own palm. Beside you was Aone with his arm behind his back. He was the complete opposite of you. 

 Deep down you knew that Aone was number one like usual but you can't deny that little sliver of hope, the slim chance that you might have beat him, even by one point. 

 You've poured your all into studying like you usually did. Surely this time you can finally beat him, right..?

 The crowd parted for the two of you as you took a shaky breath to see who secured the top stop. And to no one's surprise, the name Y/N L/N was written with the number two next to it. 

You stared at the name above you, rightfully towering over everyone else's names.

 A soft chuckle broke you out of your despair. "Oh y/n, looks like i won again. Better luck next time, hm?" with a simple pat on your head, you were left alone to stare at the board, gritting your teeth while holding your tears.

 You held back the urge to punch him square in the face.

 Evenings rolled by as you finally returned to your dorm. All extra classes and after-school activities were halted to give the students a break and you couldn't be more grateful for that.

 You silently prayed that he wasn't home as you slowly opened the door to your shared dorm. Yes, out of all the other students inside this school you shared a dorm with your rival Aone. Lady Luck truly hates you.

 You were glad to see that he was not at home so you finally have some alone time.

 You immediately jumped onto your bed, leaving your door a crack open. You grabbed whatever pillow was near you and cuddled it, finally letting the hot tears stream down your face.

 Soon enough, dreamland called upon you as your vision slowly darkened.

 "Hmm, y/n.. How come you're such a mess when I barely touched you?" Aone's fingertips ghosted over your cheeks.

 You whined as tried to grind your ass  over to his dick, trying to get any type of friction going. "Puh-pleasee.. just put it in!" your voice came out squakier than you remembered.

 Aone's low chuckled only made your dick mor erect, your tip blushing madly as you tried ti look back at him. "Say my name then. Come on, yell it out if you want it so bad." His teasing teal eyes stared at you.

 You, cock drunk, of course, obeyed, "Aone! Please just stick it in! I-I need your cock in me!"

 A whistle suddenly woke you up. Your vision still blurry as you tried to focus on who was in front of you.

 "Real good dream you had there." Aone's familiar voice suddenly spoke up. You, still drowsy only tilted your head to the side, failing to notice the hard-on you were sporting.

 You propped yourself up on your elbows, glaring at Aone. "What are you talking about? Why are you even in my room, creep!"

 He only chuckled, shoving his hands into his pockets while looking down at you. "How cute.. but don't act so innocent. You were moaning my name like a bitch in heat earlier."

 A flush of red washed over you. Yeah, you did have that weird dream over him but no way you were actually moaning his name out loud, right?

 "W-what! I don't know what you're talking about, shit head." 

 Aone rolled his eyes as he finally approached you, you frozen in place. He placed his feet on top of your clothes dick, rutting it in place. You choked out a moan, flabbergasted as to what he was doing.

 "Don't play dumb, y/n. You know I hate dumb people." 

 You shook your head trying your best to deny whatever he was accusing, yet low moans kept escaping your mouth from how he was rubbing you using his feet. 

 Just when you were about to reach your climax, he suddenly retreated his foot. You whined out loud over the loss of sensation. "Ugh.."

 He crouched down to your level, his head tilted to the side with that signature smirk on his face.

"Beg for it."

"Go on, I know you can." 

 You were left dumbfounded as to what to do. But a decision was quickly made. You were pent up from just studying that you never took the time for yourself. Who knows when will something like this ever happen again.

 "Aone, please give me your cock.. I-I want it so bad so please fuck me real good..."

 Something snapped inside Aone as he suddenly crawled between you. He immediately held onto both of your wrists with one hand and pinned it on top of you. "Attaboy, never thought there'd come a day where you would beg for me but here we are."

 His lips clashed themselves with your own, his tongue slithering inside your wet mouth to explore. You moaned against him, grinding on him.

He pulled away, leaving a string of saliva connecting the both of you. "Dirty boy, bet you were waiting to get dicked down like this, hm?" 

 "N-no! I-" You tried to defend yourself, only for him to shush you. "Mmh I know you so well y/n. Inside and out. So there's no use lying."

taglist,, @cheriecosmos, @lukaijah, @gay4letti, @kamote-kuneho, @mooncarvers-world

[snowbellewells]

@hollyethecurious Oh wow!! 😮 🤩😮 I seriously love this one! I have to admit I’ve gotten way behind in keeping up with my reading, reviewing and reblogging lately, but I was so excited to see more of this story. I remember loving the teaser bit of a Part One to this back when you wrote it, and I was thrilled to see more of the story emerge.

You do such a brilliant job setting the scene of Emma with her hit, her herbs and her magic, and Killian coming there to seek her knowledge and aid to free himself from Pan. It’s perfectly set up that she has pressing business to settle with Pan as well. And it makes sense with the abandonment and hardship Hook faced in childhood (and what he has seen of the suffering in Neverland, no doubt) that he would easily take up Emma’s cause to find her son as his own - even if he weren’t clearly attracted to her.

Oh, but that attraction… 😏 You’ve balanced it so well here, ebbing and flowing beneath the surface of their whole interaction, really from the moment she turns and he discovers she is far from the old crime he had expected. Their give and take, and the crackling awareness of each other despite all the more serious things swirling around them, is delicious and tangible. Hook’s honor and courage is clear in the fact that he would have stayed and fought for her against them mob, even though he had just met her, because she’d done nothing wrong and it was the right thing to do. All the same, I liked where you took it even better. My heart was fluttering with excitement when she said she was going with him and transported them both back to the Jolly Roger. I loved that moment they just stood there on the deck, arms still around each other, and you knew they would see to the mission first, but their intent to explore that closeness is far from over. “His eyes sprang open and he found himself surrounded by a swirl of white mist. Gone were the aromatics of the witch’s hut, replaced by the bite and brine of the sea. It was not a murderous mob, but the comforting snap of sails and lapping of water against the hull of his ship that filled his ears. When the mist dissipated, instead of the soft flicker of candles, it was the moon’s rays glowing off the shimmering waves that illuminated the deck. The same rays that sparkled in the witch’s eyes, her neck still craned so she could peer up at him, their arms still circling one another, their gazes locked in an enchantment far stronger than any mystic might produce.” Simply Gorgeous!!! 🩷🩷🩷

And the bit with the Jolly welcoming her aboard as well?!? And his whispering over her shoulder as they take to the sky?!? Whew!! It was steamy and had me melting!! 🫠 So, so, good!! I know the muse cannot be forced, but I really do hope she gives you more of this one!!!

CS AU: The Witch in the Woods (2/?)

Summary: “If it’s aid of a magical sort ye seek, then you’ll be wanting to find the witch in the woods.”

A/N: This is a continuation of a short ficlet I wrote back in 2021 for that year's Halloweek (link below). When I had the idea of doing a spooky season bingo, I thought it would be a good time to add to this fun little tale so I could mark out the witches square. I would love to expand on this more, but that is entirely up to the muse. As of now, she has given me zero ideas for future installments, however, she is also a fickle bitch, so... who knows??

Although her bday was technically yesterday, I am offering up this continuation to @kmomof4 as a special gift. She yelled at me back in 2021 to continue it and has brought it up every year since. I doubt this will get her off my back, but maybe it'll satisfy her for this year... maybe. Happy belated Birthday, Krystal!!

Rated T for now / Also available on ao3 and ff.net / buy me a coffee / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me! / Part One

Part Two

Hook stood stock still in shock. Her son was related to the devil who had bound him in servitude? How long had the lad been in Neverland? Was he a lost boy? Or perhaps one of the poor unfortunates the tribe of miscreants kept captive for sport? He would not put it past the deranged brat to torment and torture the boy for his own amusement, despite a familial connection.

Before Hook could voice any of this, a blinding glow illuminated from behind a cloth draped over something in the opposite corner. The witch turned and crossed the room, throwing back the cloth and revealing a tall mirror. However, in its reflection was not the witch or the interior of her meager hut, but a viewing portal, depicting a group of townspeople marching through the woods.

“Right on schedule,” the witch sighed sardonically before spinning around and murmuring an enchantment under her breath.

“What the devil is that?” Hook asked, but his question was nearly forgotten as his attention turned to the items that had begun moving of their own accord, whizzing past his head on their way to a carpet bag sitting open atop the work table.

“That-” the witch answered, gathering a few things on her own and packing them into the bag. “-is an angry mob. Note the torches and pitchforks.”

“I gathered,” Hook exasperated, attempting to duck out of the way while jars, vials, bottles, and sachets smelling of herbs continued to glide overhead. “Where are they headed?”

“Here, I'd imagine,” she replied with an unaffected air in her tone. “Most likely to hang me or burn me at the stake.”

Hook balked at that statement and the way she said it so matter-of-factly. “Come again?”

The witch stepped back towards the mirror and gestured at the figure centered within the frame. “See that man? He came here a few days ago, convinced his infant son had been cursed by the midwife and begged me to help.”

“The midwife cursed his newborn babe?”

“No,” she informed him, shortly. “She did her job and did it well. The issue with his son came later.”

“What issue?” Hook asked, making his way to stand next to her now that the objects in her hut had quieted down.

Her gaze still fixed on the mirror, she forlornly told him, “I do not believe the mother’s milk ever came in. The man said the boy would latch, but never seemed satisfied. He was slowly starving and I told the man as much. I suggested they supplement with goat’s milk and offered them an icing rod to feed him with, but…”

“But?”

The witch’s features tightened from a mixture of sadness and anger. “He said, no son of mine will be fed from a goat’s teet. That be the devil’s work.” Rolling her eyes, she turned back to the work table and began inspecting the contents of the carpet bag. “He insisted it had to be witchcraft and demanded I give him something to break the spell.”

“What did you do?” Hook inquired.

“I gave him some herbs to give his wife,” she said, glancing back over her shoulder at the mirror, her brow pinched and eyes squinted, straining to make out the details of the image. Perhaps attempting to ascertain how far into the woods the mob had traveled? “I did not tell him it was to increase her milk supply, but I did tell him it would take a few days for the ‘magic’ to take full effect. I warned him that if he did not see that his son was nourished during that time that it may well be too late, and unfortunately…”

“It was,” Hook finished, full comprehension of the situation now becoming clear to him. “So… the man blames you for his son’s death and means to see you pay for his ignorance and superstition.”

“It appears so,” she replied, focusing once more on the bag.

Hook gripped the hilt of his sword and raised his namesake menacingly towards the mirror. “I will not let that happen, love. I will protect you. I swear it.”

The witch chortled; an amused snort reverberated past her lips, causing Hook’s head to snap in her direction.

“I don’t plan for either of us to be here when they arrive,” she told him, closing the bag and lifting it from the table as though it weighed nothing at all. “Why do you think I’ve been packing?” Stepping up to him, she craned her neck to meet his gaze and said, “Shall we?”

“Shall we… what?”

Again, she rolled her eyes, another beguiling scoff huffing from her chest as she inquired, “You are a pirate, are you not?”

“I am.”

“Which means, you have a ship docked somewhere close by?”

“I do.”

“And you still wish for me to remove your binding, yes?”

“Aye.”

“And I’ve told you my fee, haven’t I?”

“Indeed,” he answered. “You wish for me to steal back your son from Pan.”

“Well, then…”

She paused and wet her lips, drawing his gaze down to her mouth. If not for the sound of the approaching mob, he may well have given in to the temptation of claiming that mouth… and other parts of her as well.

“I’m coming with you,” she said, stating that which should have been obvious to him before now.

“Very well,” he acquiesced, forcing himself to step back from her so he could make his way to the door, ready to fight his way through the mob if necessary.

“Not that way,” she said, grasping his arm and pulling him back to her. She set the carpet bag at their feet - or rather, nestled it on top of their feet - then wound her arms around his waist. “Think of your ship, Captain,” she murmured in the scant space between them. “Close your eyes and imagine us at her helm. I’ll do the rest.”

The shouts and cries echoing off the trees outside had become almost deafening. It took every ounce of trust he did not know he possessed to do as she instructed. His eyelids slid shut and his grip at her waist tightened. Images of the two of them together at the helm of his beloved Jolly Roger filled his mind’s eye and without warning a weightlessness took hold of him.

His eyes sprang open and he found himself surrounded by a swirl of white mist. Gone were the aromatics of the witch’s hut, replaced by the bite and brine of the sea. It was not a murderous mob, but the comforting snap of sails and lapping of water against the hull of his ship that filled his ears. When the mist dissipated, instead of the soft flicker of candles, it was the moon’s rays glowing off the shimmering waves that illuminated the deck. The same rays that sparkled in the witch’s eyes, her neck still craned so she could peer up at him, their arms still circling one another, their gazes locked in an enchantment far stronger than any mystic might produce.

“What’s your name, love?” Hook asked in a desperate breath, fearful that the slightest sound or sudden move might cause the woman to vanish as quickly as she’d had whisked them from her hut.

“Emma,” she replied on a breathless exhale. “Emma Swan.”

“Welcome aboard the Jolly Roger, Miss Swan,” Hook murmured, his fingers lightly skimming over the rough, woolen texture of her dress. “Captain Killian Jones. At your service.”

Hook had to force himself to not tighten his hold of her when she turned in his arms. Leaning back against his chest, she gently caressed the wheel, her fingers wrapping around one of the spokes. A crackling, the likes of which he had experienced during many a storm where lightning threatened to strike, swept through him and across the deck.

The witch - Emma - let out a giggle tinted with affection and lifted her head to gaze up at the sails. “A pleasure to meet you, too,” she said on a note of fondness, and Hook realized his ship, his enchanted ship, was also welcoming her aboard.

“I think it’s time we set sail. Don't you, Captain?” She made no attempt to move from the spot she currently occupied - the one manning the helm nor the one that kept her pressed against him.

Using the side of his boot, he shoved the carpet bag - still nestled between their feet - to the side and stepped in closer. Reaching around her, he grasped the wheel, caging her in, and gave his ship the command to set sail. The anchor was hoisted, the rigging was tightened, the sails snapped to attention, and the ship lurched forward, gliding through the waters. Once they were clear of the harbour, the mainsail lit up with a glittering sparkle and the hull lifted effortlessly into the night.

Emma gasped and braced her stance, but her surprised reaction was quickly replaced with an astonished laugh of awe and wonder.

“Hold on tight, love,” Hook crooned in her ear, a smirk lifting the corner of his mouth at the wash of gooseflesh that erupted down her neck and across the swell of her breasts. “We’ll be in Neverland before you know it.”

“Will we?” she replied, her voice a bit hoarse and husky, making Hook wish the journey to their destination took longer… much, much longer.

“Aye,” he answered, molding himself to her back and pressing his cheek against hers from over her shoulder as he pointed towards starboard. “See there?” he said, turning his face towards hers, their lips now a hair’s breadth apart. “That’s the way to Neverland. To your boy.”

Emma’s eyes cut to the sky then back to Hook’s forget-me-not gaze before dropping down to his mouth. “Second star to the right and straight on ‘til morning?”

“Aye, love,” Hook murmured against her lips. “Straight on ‘til morning.”

Tagging the Curious Crew: (add to tag list)

(Please be advised that I only keep one tag list for all fic updates and new works. If at any time you wish to be removed, just shoot me an ask or a DM. No worries.)

@kmomof4 @jrob64 @zaharadessert @laianely @booksteaandtoomuchtv

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[jjoongstar]

❝LOLA'S LIBRARY❞✰.｡.✵°✵,¸.•✵´

my personal list of all of my fav fics that i really love and would like to reread again for fun. i'll always continue to add more on this list. NONE OF THESE WOKRS ARE MINE!!!

smut🔥| fluff ☁️| angst 💧| most fav & highly rec❤️‍🔥

★¸.•☆•.¸★ ATEEZ ★⡀.•☆•.★

love you goodbye 🔥💧[psh] breakup sex, i legit cried

intertwined☁️[psh] mermaid y/n, siren seonghwa

sleep talker🔥☁️❤️‍🔥[psh] enemies to lovers, one bed trope, vacation au, love the tension & plot

royal library🔥☁️[psh] royalty au, plot twist, legit ult fav, mak lurve giler

(not so) sweet dream☁️[psh] very fluffy, snuggling hihihshs

Red Dress🔥☁️[psh] enemies to lovers, amazing plot

You Come First🔥☁️[psh] drug dealer, dom!hwa went too far, y/n used safe word

Make Me Water🔥☁️❤️‍🔥[psh] friends to lovers, lots of giggling

prefect and t(h)reats🔥☁️❤️‍🔥[psh] harry potter au, slytherin hwa x hufflepuff y/n

I Know It's Over☁️💧❤️‍🔥[psh] historical au, tragic ending, cliche storyline but i cried anyways

The General's Wife☁️❤️‍🔥[psh] possessive military general husband hwa

The Way To His Heart (series)☁️💧❤️‍🔥[psh] joseon era, general sh, arranged marriage, amazing plot, scrumptious storyline, sngt lurve gilerr frr

She's a regular here... (pt.1)🔥☁️❤️‍🔥[psh] drug dealer, legit fav, trilogy

Use me like a drug! (pt.2)🔥☁️[psh]

Baby we're high on you. (pt.3)🔥☁️[psh, khj]

opposite attracts🔥☁️❤️‍🔥[psh,khj] addams!matz, love the plot

One Day At A Time☁️💧[psh, jyh] royal au, most heartbreaking fic ever, i legit cried ffs, there's comfort at the end

mafia☁️[khj, jwy] mafia au, love the part where she slept on hj's bed

pretty🔥[khj] pure steamy smut, no plot

training wheels🔥☁️❤️‍🔥[khj] prof hj x student y/n, taught her how to suck his cock, ft. woo

Ugh, As If🔥☁️❤️‍🔥[khj] ult fav, y/n has insomnia & he helped her , sngt lurve yurr

Loyalties☁️[khj] criminal hj x detective y/n, love the chemistry, had me giggling, kinda reminds me of sanzu

Dreamy (series)🔥☁️❤️‍🔥[khj] dilf hj, bestie sh's daughter, legit ult fav ever, literally drooling, i love this sm istg, the best one ever, they finally fuck at pt. 6

5:04 am☁️[smg] he help lulled her to sleep

just between friends🔥❤️‍🔥[smg, jyh] pure filthy smut, love all the consents

principia (pt.1)🔥☁️[jyh] prof yuyu x student y/n, got my heartbeat racing

opticks (pt.2)🔥☁️[jyh]

Teacher's Pet🔥☁️❤️‍🔥[jyh] college au, prof yuyu x student y/n, heavy angst (my heart ached sm, i legit cried), "it reopened wounds it never healed", (will reread when i feel like hurting myself again)

outlaw🔥☁️❤️‍🔥[jyh] cowboy yuyu x bartender y/n, amazing plot

cry for me🔥[jyh] pure smut, crying kink, aftercare

whichever way🔥☁️❤️‍🔥[jwy, cs] threesome, has plot, amazing chemistry, kinky

Hardcore🔥☁️💧❤️‍🔥[cjh] teacher jh x student y/n, heartbreaking frr, "you like me...but you love her-", the other women

oh shit, are we in love?🔥☁️[cjh] romcom, college au, bestie to lovers, virgin jh

Ateez Reactions: When You Use Safeword🔥☁️❤️‍🔥[ot8] tbh, idk how to desc this cuz i like seeing them immediately changed from rough & full in lust to soft & concerned

boyfriend!ateez discovering you write smut☁️[ot8] fake text, they're just so funny i giggles too much & accidently banged my head on the wall

★¸.•☆•.¸★ SEVENTEEN ★⡀.•☆•.★

emails i can't send💧[ot13] istg its so devastatingly heartbreaking, highly rec to read during the bloody season

step by step☁️[jww] softie but they were talking bout sex tho

the wolf and the fox☁️[kmg] spy au, the tension btwn the two tho

★¸.•☆•.¸★ P1HARMONY ★⡀.•☆•.★

cinnamon banana pancakes☁️[keeho] soft, fluffy, making breakfast

★¸.•☆•.¸★ OTHERS ★⡀.•☆•.★

idk which category these should go, so i'll place them here:

the better man🔥☁️[san, mingyu] threesome, college au, they fight for y/n

seeing double🔥☁️❤️‍🔥[seonghwa, wonbin] college au, red flag fwb hwa, soft shy wonbin

dividers are by @roseraris

[dilemmaontwolegs]

The Best Kept Secret on the Grid || Part Four

MV, CL, CS, LH, LN, PG, GR, FA, DR, OP x fem!reader Warnings: fluff and flirting (sorry there will be smut next time) Reader gets to go on a hunt of her own! WC: 3.1k F1 Masterlist || Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Part Five Thank you to @kimi240302 for being inspired to make this collage, it’s perfect! 💕 and it inspired this fic!

It was strange that the elevator had arrived on your floor, and even stranger that it was empty. Your penthouse apartment took up the entire top floor of the building and required a keycard just to use the private elevator. Only Max had the spare keycard.

Sticking your head inside you found it wasn’t entirely empty. Tucked into the corner was a gift box tied off with a delicate silver bow, your name written on the tag hanging from it. You thought about calling Max first but it wasn’t unusual to receive gifts from him so you carried it inside and opened it.

Your jaw dropped at the beautiful ball gown neatly placed inside. Each crystal of the glittering bodice was individually sewn on with meticulous care and it must have cost a small fortune to make. There wasn’t even a label to give a clue as to who the designer was, but it was clearly custom made and you knew without even stepping into it that it would fit perfectly.

Lifting the train out, you found an equally stunning half mask along with a small blank card that you turned over. Hand written in an elegant script is said: Le Bal Masqué 2200. You looked at the time and saw there was just over an hour to get ready.

You had just settled the mask over your styled hair when there was a knock on your door and you slipped your heels on before answering. Expecting to see Max waiting, you were surprised to find a stranger holding a card with your name on it, silently handing it over before you could ask what was going on.

It’s your turn to find us tonight, M.

“Your car is downstairs, madame,” the messenger said as he held the elevator door open for you.

The excitement brought a smile to your face as you stepped inside, wondering just what he had planned for you. You obviously weren’t hunting them the same way they chased you on the island, the dress was far too nice to ruin.

You were occupied by your thoughts the entire drive through the streets of Monte Carlo until you arrived at a cliff side residence. The gates opened at the car’s approach and you could see the mansion was full of men wearing their finest suits. 

“Have a lovely evening, madame,” the chauffeur said as he opened the door for you. 

You thanked him as you stepped out, your entrance garnering plenty of envious stares from the women and looks of longing from men loitering on the steps. You had scanned what you could see of the men’s faces beneath the masks and determined why this was a hunt - three had the same blue eyes and dirty blonde hair as Max while two could have easily been Charles at first glance. 

Smiling to yourself, you climbed the stairs and entered the large foyer full of men who could all pass for yours. 

“Champagne?” You took the flute from the waiter’s tray and saw two rolls of stickers beside it. Noticing the curious lift of your brow above the diamante mask, the waiter tapped the first roll. “The green sticker is for when you believe you have found one of the drivers here this evening, there are only ten so choose wisely. If you believe you have found an imposter, place a red dot on their lapel and they will be escorted off the premises. You have until midnight. Happy hunting.”

You smirked over the rim of your champagne flute and grabbed the roll of red stickers first. Turning to survey the crowd, you chuckled as you whispered to yourself, “Oh Max, you’ve outdone yourself.”

“Enjoying your evening?”

You turned to the man with a thick Spanish accent and immediately knew he wasn’t your Nando, though the jawline beneath the mask followed the same curve and his short beard was shaped similarly. The voice was too deep and the eyes were more green than hazel to match Nando’s so you plucked a red dot from the reel and slapped it on his suit as you answered, “Extremely. Thank you for coming.”

His lips turned down and a large unmasked man stepped out of the shadows, already guiding him out of the residence. You were already making your way to the ballroom where the crowd swelled, dozens and dozens congregating on the dance floor where a band were playing new hit singles but in a classical way. Perhaps band wasn’t the right term, there were so many instruments it was practically an orchestra.

An arm curled around your waist as you swayed to the music and you tipped your head back to meet a pair of brown eyes so dark they were almost black. He didn’t speak as he pulled you closer and for the first time you weren’t certain if the man was an imposter or your Esteban.

“You’re not going to ask how my night is going?” you baited him, a quick smiling parting his lips as he shook his head. Pursing your lips, you weren’t ready to rule him out with a red sticker but you needed to hear his voice to decide if he was worth one of the precious ten green dots in your hand. “Then how about a drink instead?”

His smile grew as he took your hand in his and led you to one of the small bars dotted around the ballroom. Looking at the long fingers laced with yours, you saw a thin tan line on his index finger where a ring had spent a lot of time and you tried to remember if Esteban had one too. Charles, Pierre and Lando definitely did but the memory of Estie’s hand drew a blank - you knew his fingers from how they felt between your legs not by sight apparently.

“Two piña coladas, please,” you ordered as you watched what features you could around the mask but there was no sign of disgust. “One for the road,” you added as you placed a red sticker on his collar.

“How did you know?” the lookalike asked with an English accent.

“Pineapples.” You shrugged and took the cocktail that was placed in front of you. “He hates them.”

Half an hour later the crowd had thinned dramatically. The security team had been kept busy as you felt like the Oprah meme, slapping red dots on the imposters - you get one, and you get one. With a large portion of men gone you were able to focus better and there were two men in particular you had your eye on.

All it took was one laugh and you were peeling back the first green sticker, heading for the pair of dark haired men chatting in the library. Their backs were to you as they laughed at silly book titles and you announced your arrival with a kiss to the shadow of a beard before sticking the green dot to his forehead.

“You two together was always going to be a dead giveaway,” you teased as you stuck another sticker on Lando’s nose. “Only Carlos can make you laugh like that.”

“Don’t tell me we were first?” he whined as he saw the otherwise full strip of green dots. “How have you not found George?”

You trailed a finger over the perfect lines of his suit before tugging the bow tie around his neck. He swallowed at the smouldering look in your eyes and let you drag him closer by the throat until your lips brushed his ear. “Why don’t you help me?”

His lips parted to answer but Carlos pulled him away before he could impart the information he knew. Blocking you with his body, Carlos shook his head at your attempt to break the younger driver. “Rules are rules, hermosa, and you are running out of time.”

He jutted his chin at the grandfather clock and smirked as he ducked from your reach with a laugh when you tried to take back the green sticker. “Uh uh uh, I’m well and truly yours.”

“You’re lucky you’re handsome,” you warned as you left them to their game and continued your hunt. “Alright, George, Gerorge, George, where would you be…oh.”

You had wandered through the throngs of people inside the impressive mansion but you hadn’t explored the rest of the property. It was very easy to understand Lando’s complaint when you walked out the wide open doors to the infinity pool set on the cliff face.

“I’m not sure how I’m going to get this to stick to you,” you said as you held a green dot on your finger tip. George grinned beneath his mask as he looked up from the waters edge enjoying a warm dip in the pool. Water dripped from his hair and ran down his chest as he stood up, tracing a wet palm up your calf through the slit in the dress. He was the only one at the soirée who had taken his suit off and he had also decided to put his bow tie back on before hopping in the heated pool. “You look like a stripper.”

“A very expensive one I hope,” he teased. “You look hot, love, you should join me and cool off.”

“Wish I could,” you sighed, feeling a little like the white rabbit in Alice in Wonderland, “but I’m running late and still have seven of you guys to chase down.”

George pulled himself out of the pool and grabbed a towel, a few drops of water catching on the crystal bodice as he shook his hair out. He dragged the towel down his body and you used the dry spot on the centre of his chest to plant a green dot on him. “Tagging my heart, love,” he chuckled, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “You don’t need to chase us, we are waiting for you.”

He sent you a wink as he swiped up his suit and left you poolside, confused by what he meant. “You’ll figure it out, I know you will.”

Dawdling along the balcony, you chewed over his words before realisation struck. You found Lando and Carlos together and George in the water - places where they loved to be. It seemed so obvious once you thought it and you rushed inside to the ballroom. You hadn’t questioned why the orchestra was masked but when you spotted the dark head of hair at the grand piano it made sense.

“It’s my favourite Frenchman,” you whispered in his ear and the melody bounced over a miskey.

“Monegasque,” he corrected automatically, turning to see the amusement shimmering in your eyes. “Bonsoir, mi bella.”

“You might want to rest those fingers, Charles, wouldn’t want you to get a cramp later.”

He grinned at the remark and dragged them across the keys. “Don’t worry, I’m just warming up.”

“So am I.” You reached out and stuck the green dot to the index and middle finger on his right hand before kissing the dimple on his cheek. “Those are mine.”

You followed a waiter as he slipped from the room with an empty tray and found a set of stairs leading down a floor, into a busy kitchen. Your next target stood out among the white shirt chefs and you were once again amazed at how they had managed to find strangers with such a resemblance to your drivers.

“What’s cooking, good looking?”

Fernando turned with a spoonful of something that smelled delicious and your lips parted for him. A heavenly moan hummed from your chest as you tasted what he had been stirring on the stove. Nando smirked as his eyes followed the line of your lips before he leaned in and caught them with his, rolling his tongue across your bottom lip.

“You missed a bit,” he said as he wiped the spot of sauce with his thumb before licking it clean. You momentarily forgot what you were doing but he had his wits about him as he took a green sticker and placed it on his collar. “Now this is my colour.”

“Not red?” He shook his head as you flattened the dot to make sure it wouldn’t be lost in the 25 minutes you had left. “So the Ferrari rumours…?”

“Just rumours, querida, but I don’t think you have time to gossip.” He pointed the spoon to the clock above the head chef’s station. “There’s still a few spots left.”

“Vegan special,” the chef shouted as he hit the bell for service and a waiter arrived in an instant. “Deliver this to the home theatre.”

“One less now.” You grinned and pulled another sticker out. “See you at midnight.”

You followed the waiter into the quiet depths of the mansion until he reached a door and you took the plate from the tray. “I can take it from here, thanks.”

Lewis was so engrossed in the film he didn’t notice it was you in the room with him. It was only when he looked closer he saw the green dot stuck to the white china plate in your hands and looked up with a wide smile.

“I take gratuities in orgasms, just so you know,” you said with a laugh as he moved the plate and pulled you onto his lap instead.

“It’s your lucky night, baby,” he purred in your ear as his hand slipped up the slit in your dress. “I’ve been told I’m a heavy tipper.”

His fingers teased along the lace edge of your panties and you only just managed to clear your head before he could erase all your thoughts with his touch. “Rain check,” you groaned, not wanting to leave just yet but Fernando had given you an idea before the chef had set you onto Lewis’ path. “Where would you go if you wanted to hear the juiciest gossip?”

Lewis chewed his lip as he thought it over before deciding, “The bar, a few drinks definitely loosens lips.”

“Then that’s where I need to go.” You thanked him with a kiss before leaving the theatre and made your way back to the busiest room in the place. But, before you could leave the lower levels you heard a distinctive accent and skidded to a stop.

“When they said you guys came from a land down under, I didn’t think they meant the basement.” Daniel’s smile split his face as you stepped into the games room where he and Oscar were chalking their cue sticks.

“Thank god you’re here,” Oscar sighed gratefully and placed the cue down on the table, turning to face you with a smile. “I suck at playing pool.”

“Maybe that’s because it's billiards, not pool,” you pointed out as you stepped into the space between his legs.

“I don’t even know what that is,” he admitted, his hands running over the dresses bodice and down to rest on your ass. “You look gorgeous.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a suit.” You straightened the bow that had tilted at some point and draped your arms around his neck. “It suits you, handsome.”

His nose wrinkled and you giggled as he tugged at the tie, sending it off kilter again. “It feels like I’m being choked.”

“There’s some pleasure to be found in a bit of choking. Isn’t that right?” Daniel asked in your ear as he stepped up behind you, his fingers delicately circling your throat. He guided your head back to his shoulder and traced his nose over your racing pulse, inhaling the sweet scent of your perfume. “Hmm, maybe we can show him how good it can be.”

You could feel both of them coming to life as they sandwiched you between them, digging their erections into you. Your eyes fluttered shut at the temptation to drop to your knees and taste the Australian drivers, but you forced your eyes open and squirmed free of their intoxicating embrace.

“Soon, promise,” you panted as you slapped a sticker on Daniel’s ass and made Oscar whine needily when you placed one over his tented trousers, rubbing your palm over it to make sure the green dot was secured. “Very soon.”

The largest bar was set up in what you guessed was usually a dining hall and it spanned the length of the room. Leaning against the bartop was Pierre, his chin on his fist as he listened to the revellers unravelling their innermost thoughts aloud. He was engrossed in the tale, nodding encouragement when the woman’s cheeks turned scarlet red beneath her mask.

“And what did he do?” Pierre asked eagerly.

The woman covered her lips as she giggled before leaning in and whispering her confession. Pierre’s lips parted with a gasp, his eyebrows rising over the top of his mask as he stood upright. “Non!”

“Oui!”

Pierre spun around at the sound of your voice in his ear and he tore his mask from his face. “Ma chatte, look at you,” he said with a playful bit of his lip as you gave him a slow spin to show all of your curves glittering beneath the chandelier light. “Beautiful. And just in time too.”

You followed his gaze and saw there was only three minutes to midnight. “Shit,” you whispered as you grabbed the second to last sticker and pressed it to his chest. “Gotta run.”

Your calves burned as you climbed the stairs, spiralling higher and higher, racing the hands of the clock until you reached the top floor. The entire wall was made of glass and overlooked the dark water beyond the cliffs, but it wasn’t the panoramic vista that caught your eye.

His back was to you, the black silk tie of his mask flattening the back of his hair that would usually stick up in all directions, especially after combing your fingers through the strands. But it didn’t matter if you couldn’t see his face, you would recognise him anywhere.

His hands were crossed at the base of his spine, right one holding the left. It was how he stood whenever he was on the podium, how he stood when his anthem played. It was how he stood when he desperately wanted to be elsewhere but was forced to be patient.

You wrapped your arms around his narrow waist and found his eyes reflected in the glass. “Hi.”

The grandfather clocks throughout the mansion struck 12, the loud dongs echoing through the halls. “I wasn’t sure you were going to make it.”

You smiled into his shoulder at the teasing in his voice. “I always knew where you would be.” Stepping around his body, he pulled you into the circle of his arms so you were both watching the horizon as fireworks began to light up the sky above the sea. “There was only one place my Max could possibly be…at the top.”

Click here for the next part.

[horanghaejamjam]

Jigsaw - {CS}

↪   Summary: You are the lead detective in an investigation surrounding one of the most infamous killers the city has ever seen. Unfortunately for you, Jigsaw knows you're onto him and has played you like a game at every turn, threatening the case and your status. Your determination to catch him finally gets you a lead, only for you to find yourself tangled in a special trap that he designed just for you. Let the game begin.

↪ Pairings: Jigsaw Killer Choi San x Female Detective Reader

↪   Rating: M 18+

↪   Genre: Non-idol/Slasher/Horror movie au/ Suggestive / Fluff/Friends to enemies to lovers

↪   Word Count: 5.7k

↪ Warnings/Contents: References to classic horror movies, mainly Saw, Silence of the Lambs, and Scream. Mentions of death/murder/being shot (not detailed). Seonghwa and Mingi both make cameos in this story with a few other members being mentioned. Swearing and implied smut (MDNI). San being a teasing little shit, makeout sessions, fondling over clothes.

↪ Side Notes: To the wonderful @pinkywritings hi darling I was your assigned Ghost Writer for the @atinyhalloweenproject. This is my first time writing for San and I had a lot of fun with it so I hope you enjoy it! Sorry it is so late I wanted to have it out by Halloween but due to the sudden weather change we haven't had power. I tried to make it longer to make up for that so hopefully it doesn't feel rushed and was worth the wait!

I honestly may do a part two to this or an expansion later on because I love the idea of Jigsaw San but we'll see.

↪ Click here to see my other Ateez stories

↪ Click here for other kpop masterlists

↪ Click here to join my fic taglist

“Police officials are seeking any leads in identifying the man known only to the public as the Jigsaw killer. He is believed to be linked in multiple disappearances and murders that have taken place around Seoul for the past three months. The victims were all found in various handmade traps and had a puzzle piece drawn somewhere visible on their body. At this time investigators have no leads and are asking the public for any knowledge they may have on this public threat.” 

The reporter's voice faded to nothing as the volume on the TV was lowered to zero. You groaned softly to yourself as you tossed the remote to the side, running your hands through your hair as you sat forward on your couch. It had been just over a month since you were assigned the Jigsaw murder case, the last detective backing out after the man in question threatened to target his family. The case was quickly transferred over to you, one of the best detectives in your field, but it was very quickly starting to test your patience. 

Whoever this Jigsaw was, he was a clever man. He left no trace, no evidence, nothing that would allow you to track him down. You went through surveillance, interviewed the family and friends of the victims, tried breaking down his traps for any clues, but any lead always led you right back to square one. You had tried to be patient, hoping that eventually he would slip up and give you something, but it was starting to sound like wishful thinking. Even worse, he knew who you were and started calling you out directly. You would find notes addressed to you, pictures, voice messages, all calling you out and taunting you. It was like he was playing some cruel game with you and you had no choice but to play along or risk losing everything. You couldn’t even walk to work anymore without some reporter chasing you down demanding an explanation or any evidence you had in the case. It came to a point where you only went to the office when called, and the rest of your work you did from home. 

Various evidence pictures and case files were thrown across your coffee table, a few rough notes scribbled in between. You had been looking at the same files for the past couple of hours, dissecting every last word to see if you had missed any connections. Your last victim had been found 72 hours ago, and you knew you only had a day at most before the next one. There were a few things you had discovered about Jigsaw, and the main one was that he worked on a schedule. Once someone was reported missing, it would be three days before their body turned up and the cycle would start again. Whoever this man was, he clearly enjoyed his patterns, and that is what you found yourself looking for, any pattern you may have missed. 

“Working from home again I see?” you practically jumped out of your skin as you heard the deep voice of your roommate behind you, turning around to see his tall frame leaning over the couch. 

“For Fucks sake Mingi you almost gave me a heart attack!” you whined, reaching up to lightly smack at him, “what are you doing here anyways I thought you weren’t coming home tonight.” You and Mingi had been friends for as long as you could remember, having met back in high school and staying together through college and your time at the police academy. He was like a brother to you at this point and you trusted him so you didn’t mind if he saw your work, even if he technically wasn’t supposed to. Mingi always found your work to be fascinating and would bug you randomly about cases, which only grew more when you started investigating Jigsaw, though you assumed it was just because you got to bring your work home now. Just as you predicted, he made his way to the other side of the couch and took a seat next to you, picking up one of the crime scene photos to get a better look. 

“I was going to stay at Yunhos tonight but something came up and he had to cancel,” Mingi explained, running his thumb over the picture he was holding, “ouch this looks like it would have been painful, what is it?”

“That’s one of Jigsaw's latest traps,” you answered, snatching the photo away from him, “I’m looking through it to see if I can find any missing clues.” 

“Have you found anything?”

“Sadly no, he’s very good at covering his tracks. It’s been a month and we still don’t have any leads on this guy, it’s like he’s a ghost or something.” Mingi hummed softly as he continued to look through all the pictures, careful not to mess them up knowing you would yell at him if he did. 

“Now I’m no expert but, are you sure you’re only looking for one person?” he asked, catching you off guard. 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean all these crime scenes you’ve shown me have been pretty big and this says it only took three days, seems like a lot of work for one person if you ask me.” Mingi explained, “and that’s why your patterns wouldn’t line up like you want them to.” You blinked up at him dumbly for a moment as you processed his words, looking back down at the file you had basically memorized by this point. You didn’t want to admit it, but Mingi had a point. 

“You know that’s actually not a bad idea,” you muttered. 

“I can be helpful sometimes you know,” he bragged with a laugh, earning himself a punch to the shoulder. He didn’t have time to retaliate though as you were packing up all of your things and rushing towards the door, “Wait where are you going?”

“I need to check on something, don’t wait up for me!” you called back, pulling on your coat and running out the door as he called after you. In your rush you hadn’t realized that you dropped part of your case file on your way out, nor did you notice Mingi pulling out his phone to call someone as he closed the door to your apartment.

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You made it to the crime scene in no time, an abandoned warehouse located just on the edge of the city. You parked your car a bit away and pulled out a flashlight as you made your way inside, ducking under the caution tape and pulling your jacket closer to yourself as you looked around. The clean up crew had gotten most of the scene cleaned by now, but the trap itself was still there. A weirdly broken mess of chains and blades that you wouldn’t have been able to put back together if you wanted to, making you wonder how Jigsaw even came up with the idea in the first place. You shook the thought out of your head and made your way to one of the blades, leaning down to inspect it carefully. It was sharp with a curve to it, but almost messy in design as if it was handmade. To test that theory you took a look at another one and noticed the same thing except this one was thicker and less curved despite being set up the same way. The chains themselves were also a bit sloppy when you looked at them closely, almost as if they had been done in a rush. It wasn’t as clean as Jigsaw's normal work, and now Mingis suggestion that you were dealing with more than one culprit seemed more plausible. 

You took your phone out to snap a picture just as the door to the warehouse opened, a new light pouring in and a familiar voice calling your name. 

“Over here!” you called back, flashing your light in his direction so he could see you. Quick footsteps made their way towards you before a familiar figure came into view. Park Seonghwa, a senior detective that had transferred over to your department a little over a year ago and assigned as your partner. You had been against the idea at first since your original partner had been killed only a few weeks prior during an investigation gone wrong. The chief had insisted it would be for the best though since you needed the help and Seonghwas cool and more collected nature would balance you out nicely which would prove to be true. Your impulsiveness had driven the older detective crazy a few times, but for the most part the two of you got along well and you could even consider him a friend. He was wearing a long black coat and matching gloves and his hair was long and falling into his face rather than slicked up like normal, probably because he had been at home resting when you called him. 

“Would you care to explain why you called me out here in the middle of the night when I haven’t heard from you in the last 48 hours?” Seonghwa questioned, unable to hide the annoyance in his tone. 

“I’ll make it up to you but I figured this couldn’t wait,” you muttered, going back to inspect the chain again, “I’m trying to prove a theory about something.” 

“That theory being?”

“What if Jigsaw isn't working alone?” you challenged, “what if it’s more than one person, that would explain why nothing lines up.” Seonghwas eyes widened a bit and you could have sworn you heard him mutter something under his breath, “what did you say?” 

“Oh nothing,” he brushed you off, “what made you so convinced of this new theory? Did you find something?” You froze for a second, not wanting to expose yourself for letting a member of the general public view the case file. 

“Just a hunch,” you lied, “but I mean look at the way this trap was built, it's messy compared to the others, almost as if it was made by someone else.”

“Or maybe Jigsaw just ran out of time and rushed on it,” he argued. 

“Can you just humor me for five seconds Seonghwa,” you groaned, “maybe I’m wrong yes but isn’t it at least worth looking into?” Seonghwa rolled his eyes but gave in, walking to the other side of the trap to get a better look. You were too distracted by your own work to pay much attention to him, meticulously looking through every detail of the trap despite not actually knowing what you were looking for. Your instinct was telling you that there was something there you were overlooking, something that was hiding in plain sight, you just had to figure out what that was. 

“Hey Y/N,” Seonghwa called out after a few minutes, “I think I found something.” Your head shot up and you quickly dusted yourself off before making your way over. Seonghwa was standing in the corner of the warehouse holding what looked to be a tape recorder. “I found it tucked away over here, may have gotten knocked around during the investigation,” he explained. 

“Does it say anything?” you asked, taking the recorder from his hands and pressing the play button. There was only static for a moment before a robotic voice spoke up, like someone was speaking through a voice changer. Despite that, you couldn’t help but feel like the voice seemed familiar to you, but it was hard to tell through the editing. 

“Hello Detective Y/L/N,” the tape addressed you, sending a chill through your body, “these past few weeks you have been running around in circles trying to discover who I am. You have been closer to the truth than you realize but you always end up blindsided by your work and, as a result, you overlook the answer that is right in front of you. I have enjoyed silently watching you up until this point but now it is getting quite boring so why don’t we make this a bit more fun? Do you like games, detective? I hope you do because I want to play a game with you. I have left a riddle for you, the answer to which will tell you all you need to know about who I am and what I do. You have 48 hours to find the riddle and tell me the answer or you will find yourself and those closest to you in a very undesirable situation. The timer starts the second this recording ends, let’s hope you are as clever as everyone says you are. Let the game begin.” 

  You felt your blood run cold as the tape came to an end, barely registering Seonghwas hand on your shoulder as you tried to process everything you just heard. Seonghwa tried talking to you but you ignored him, pushing his hand off and rushing back to your car, your partner not far behind you. 

“Where are you going? We should report this to the office first!” he called after you. 

“What good is reporting it going to do? You heard him Hwa I have 48 hours to figure out who this guy is or we’re all screwed, I can’t waste time.”

“So what you’re going to rush into something and get yourself killed?” he argued. 

“Better than doing nothing and getting everyone else killed,” you snapped back, “now if you’ll excuse me, I need to find this riddle he’s talking about.” Seonghwa called after you again but by this point you had gotten in your car and were already making your way back to your apartment. Part of you felt like going home was a bad idea, but you also couldn’t help but feel like something was pulling you to go there. The same feeling of familiarity that you got hearing the tape returned, making you feel more and more uneasy as you pulled into your apartment complex. Like you knew who Jigsaw was and yet the image of his face was blurred any time you tried to imagine him.

Mingi didn’t seem to be home when you got back, his shoes were gone and the light was off. You couldn’t focus on that though, as your attention was drawn to the stack of papers placed neatly on your coffee table. You carefully walked over and looked through the pile, recognizing pictures from all the different crime scenes you had investigated so far, each one marked with red ink. 

‘Y/N, doesn’t this random pattern seem a bit too random?’

‘This is quite close to home don’t you think?’

‘The truth has been in front of you the whole time.’

‘Why do I do what I do?’

‘Did you miss me?’

You ran your hand through your hair as you continued looking through the pictures, realizing that the riddle was basically going to send you on a scavenger hunt. It would take forever for you to go back through each crime scene and look back through everything to find out what he was talking about. Even worse, it was pretty late and you could feel exhaustion slowly taking over you, slouching over the coffee table and eventually laying against it as you fell asleep trying to decipher the riddle. 

You were jolted awake by the sound of your phone vibrating, groaning softly as you sat up and reached into your pocket for the device. You half expected it to be a call from Mingi or Seonghwa, but instead you were greeted with the same robotic voice from the night before. Only this time, you were able to hear his actual voice a bit more and it was one you swore you had heard before. 

“Good morning Sleeping Beauty, I hope my riddle didn’t keep you up all night,” the voice immediately woke you up, straightening your posture as you looked around. 

“Who is this?” you asked. 

“Aww I’m almost offended you don’t remember me, we go way back you know,” the voice responded, “I’ve missed you Y/N, and even if you don’t remember me now I know you miss me too.” You paused for a moment at his words before realizing now was not the time to worry about that. 

“Why are you doing this?” 

“That. my dear detective is for you to find out, you always did enjoy the thrill of a good challenge didn’t you? I figured you would have solved my puzzle by now but since I believe in giving people a fair chance I’ll give you another clue. One of those puzzle pieces doesn’t quite belong, once you find the answer I will be waiting for you in the place we last met, don’t keep me waiting Doll.” With that the call ended, causing you to groan in frustration and toss your phone to the side. 

“I’ve had about enough of these damn games,” you huffed, rubbing your hands over your eyes. You looked through the pictures again before one in particular caught your eye. It wasn’t one of the Jigsaw crime scenes, but instead it was a picture of an older house, one that you recognized from your last murder investigation with your old partner, San. The memories slowly came back to you and that’s when it finally clicked for you, the puzzle and the reason the voice sounded so familiar to you. That was impossible though, San was dead, you had been at the hospital with him when the doctors told you there was nothing they could do. There was no way that San was still alive, and yet you would recognize his voice anywhere. Shaking your head, you grabbed your phone and stood up, calling Seonghwa and telling him to meet you at the house in question as you left your apartment and got in your car. The whole ride there you tried ignoring the feeling of dread that came over you, hoping that your intuition was wrong. 

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Seonghwa was already at the house before you got there, leaning against the wall with a blank expression. “I take it you found the answer to your riddle?” he asked as you walked past him, leading him inside. 

“As much as I hope I am wrong I think I did,” you confessed, “and if I’m right the clue we are looking for should be here somewhere.” Seonghwa stood still in the middle of the room as you frantically looked around, digging through his pocket and following your movements with his eyes. 

“This isn’t one of the crime scenes,” he pointed out, “what exactly are we looking for?”

“Jigsaw said to find him at the place we last met and this place was the only one pictured that wasn’t one of the crime scenes,” you explained. Seonghwa hummed softly at your answer, but you ignored him as you continued looking around. 

“Why here then, what’s so special about this place?” you froze for a moment at the question, an action that didn’t go unnoticed. 

“This was the last place I investigated with my first partner,” you answered, “he was shot during the investigation and I thought he was dead but I’m starting to think I was wrong.” 

“You think it’s him,” Seonghwa stated rather than asked, to which you nodded. 

“I don’t know why he would do such a thing, but it all lines up.” Seonghwa sighed and glanced down at his watch before making his way towards you. 

“I’m surprised you know, you solved the riddle faster than we thought you would, we’re a bit ahead of schedule.” His words made your blood run cold, freezing as your head turned to look at him. 

“What did you just say?”

“I’m sorry about this Y/N,” Seonghwa apologized, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a syringe, “just know I don’t make the rules, I’m just the delivery guy.” Before you could react to his words he had grabbed you and injected you with what you assumed was some kind of anesthesia, your body going limp in his hold almost immediately and your vision going black. The last thing you remember hearing was his voice and footsteps approaching before you completely lost consciousness. 

When you returned to consciousness the first thing that you noticed was that you couldn’t move. Your arms and legs were handcuffed to a chair that also appeared to be bolted to the floor so you couldn’t tip it over. Tugging at your restraints, you glanced around to find that you were in some sort of workshop, various trap parts and gadgets tossed around multiple workbenches. At the front of the room were what appeared to be security monitors, each watching different parts of the city that you could just barely make out. 

“I have to hand it to you Y/N,” a voice said from behind you, “the last detective didn’t make it nearly as far.” The sound of footsteps echoed through the room before a figure appeared in your vision, wearing a full body red and black hood. Even though his face was covered by the hood, you could feel the presence of your former partner.

“How, I thought you were dead,” you whispered, not sure what to feel at the moment. In any other circumstance you would be over the moon to know he was alive, but how were you supposed to feel knowing he was the serial killer you had been anxiously tracking down. Shock, betrayal, anger, sadness, confusion, all of these emotions swirled through your brain like an endless whirlpool, pulling you in deeper and nearly bringing tears to your eyes. 

“Everyone did,” San replied, turning away from you to face one of his work benches, “the doctors said it was a miracle, that no one thought I would make it through the night let alone make a full recovery.” You could hear him messing with something, but couldn’t see what it was, struggling to look past his shoulder as he continued talking, “I tried to find you after you know? I thought you were the only one left that cared about me, and yet even you managed to turn your back on me.” 

“I always cared about you,” you argued, “that’s why I’m trying to understand why San, why did you do this?” It was at this point that he finally turned to face you, pulling the hood back so you could see him properly. He looked almost the same as you remembered, but there was a cold gaze in his eyes that almost made him feel like a stranger. This wasn’t the warm hearted and cheerful person you used to consider a friend, he was a killer. Despite this, however, you couldn’t help yourself from falling for his familiarity, almost as if you could convince yourself the old San was still in there, somewhere. 

“You never realize just how valuable life is until you are inches away from death,” he explained, “the adrenaline and the fight to survive, it almost feels like you are being reborn. The more I thought about it, the more I realized how corrupt the world we live in truly is, because no one really knows how to appreciate the life they are given until it is nearly taken from them. You may not understand it now but trust me my methods will help make the world a better place.”

“You’re killing people because you want them to appreciate life?” you questioned, wondering if he was actually being serious. There was no way a person's mind could be that twisted, right? 

“You think I’m a killer?” San asked, not needing a verbal response since your glare was enough confirmation, “that’s where you’re wrong you know. I have not killed anyone, all of my games are survivable as long as the player has the will to fight for it. Those who failed the games basically killed themselves.” You wanted to argue that putting people in these death traps still made him a killer but he cut you off, “Seven people have won so far, seven people who had that will to live and had the chance to be reborn. They understand what it truly means to be alive and now they help me spread my message. You may not understand me now, but I really do hope that you will be the next.” 

“So what, am I the next person that gets to be put in one of your death traps then?” you groaned, tugging at your restraints. San pouted a bit but shook his head. 

“Your game began the minute you took the case from Detective Kim,” he explained, “you and I always seemed to have an understanding so I had hoped you would pick up on my clues and join without a fight, but you were far too stubborn to listen. Eventually I had to cut my losses so I had my apprentices plant fake evidence to finally get you here, it was the only way.” Your heart dropped a bit at the word apprentices, your mind immediately going back to Seonghwa and how he was the one who brought you here. 

“So you’re telling me the whole time,” you trailed off. 

“Seonghwa was working for me, yes, Mingi as well, they both survived my games and agreed to help with the cause and when you took over my case I knew I could use them to guide you in the right direction,” San explained. He took a moment to glance at a clock on the wall before sighing and making his way over to you. San rested his hands on the arms of the chair and used them to prop himself up so he was leaning over you, “As much as I have enjoyed our little chat I’m afraid we do not have much time. I really do like you Y/N so I will give you a choice. Join me and together we can help change the world for the better.”

“And if I refuse?” you challenged. 

“Well then I guess we’ll have to play a game,” he hummed, leaning away from you, “The second I walk out of this room it will lock and a timer will start. Behind you are two doors, each with a different combination, one door will lead you to the exit, and the other will lead you to me. If you choose to leave then you will be free but you will lose your chance to catch me. If you choose to come after me, then you have a chance to learn the truth at the risk of your freedom. The combinations are hidden in this room and you will have exactly one hour to find them and leave through the door of your choosing, and trust me you don’t want to know what will happen if you run out of time.” San chuckled softly before pulling away and walking behind you, “This is your last chance to accept my offer Y/N, I would hate to lose you like this.” He waited for a moment but when you didn’t respond he sighed, “Very well, let the game begin.” You felt him place something into your hand, which you quickly realized was a key, before the door slammed shut and San was gone. 

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It didn’t take you long to unlock yourself, taking a second to rub your wrists as you stood up and made your way cautiously around the room. You did your best to stay calm and not look at the clock as you examined the doors and then looked around for the combinations, which you quickly realized were hidden on his tools. The question was, do you free yourself and turn your back on the case, or do you risk it all and try to go after San. The rational part of your brain was screaming at you to just get out of there and not look back, and yet you quickly found yourself moving on autopilot. Before you could really process what you were doing, you had entered the code for the door labeled “Truth” and ran through it, stepping into a dark hallway and letting the door lock behind you. 

You took a moment to compose yourself before heading forward, placing your hands against the walls to help feel your way through the space. All the doors were locked until you came to one at the very end that was cracked open, revealing what looked to be a makeshift office space, with nothing but a desk and filing cabinet in the room. You poked your head through first, looking around for any sign of life before slowly stepping inside and making your way to the desk, only to gasp as you felt another body pin you to it. 

“I knew you would come after me,” San whispered, spinning you around so that you were facing him. Your body was pressed between his and the desk, his arms caging you on either side as your eyes locked. 

“I can’t let you get away with this,” you argued, trying to wiggle away from him but San was stronger so he held you in place. 

“Come on Doll, you and I both know that’s not why you came after me,” he teased, “maybe it was at first but if that was the case now you would be fighting me harder.” He was right, even if he was stronger you knew you could at least hold your own enough to get him away or subdue him long enough to call for help. Yet you couldn’t bring yourself to actually fight him off, struggling against him enough to save your pride but not enough to actually push him off. “So tell me,” San continued, “why did you really come after me, was it because you were curious about my work? Or, was it because deep down you missed me?” Honestly, you weren’t even sure if you knew the answer, your body having reacted before your mind could catch up. 

“This isn’t right,” you argued, reaching your hands up to push at his shoulders. 

“And yet here we are,” he teased, backing up enough to wrap his arms around you and pull you closer to him. Your bodies pressed together and your arms instinctually made their way around his neck which made him chuckle. “I always knew you were special, you understood me in a way that no one else ever did. Stay with me, nothing will be able to come between us.” San leaned down until your lips were centimeters apart, his breath tickling your lips with every word. You tried not to give into him, knowing that this was wrong, but you also couldn’t deny the thrill that ran through you just from being near him. You had always cared for San when you two were partners, hell there was even a time where you could argue that you did have a crush on him. That was back then however, when he was the sweet and easy going detective that decorated his desk with mini plushies and would whine if you forgot to get him a pastry on your morning coffee runs. This version of San wasn’t like that, even if the allure was still there, he was cold, twisted, and a killer. 

“I can’t do this,” you argued, “you’re not the man I once cared about.” You tried to turn your head away from him, but he gripped your chin to force you to look at him. 

“Yes I am, behind all of this it is still me and I can prove that to you,” he whispered, “just let me show you.” When you shook your head again he huffed, loosening his grip for a moment before it tightened again, “Fine then, how about another game?” 

“I already won your stupid game though!” you challenged. 

“Yet you still haven’t learned,” he fought back, “the least you can do is give me a chance to convince you. If you don’t give in then I will go with you to the station and turn myself in, but if I win then you quit being a detective for good and you stay with me.” You gave him a questioning look, at this point more than positive that he had gone insane. However, if playing his dumb games meant putting an end to Jigsaw, then you were more than willing to oblige. 

“Alright fine, deal,” you reluctantly agreed. You only had a moment to register Sans smirk before he was pulling you against him again and connecting your lips. One hand stayed pressed against your back to keep you against him, while the other tangled itself in your hair, tugging slightly to get a reaction out of you. The kiss wasn’t rough or forced like you had expected, instead it was gentle and passionate, like he wanted to take his time with you. His lips were surprisingly soft against yours, and you began to slowly melt against his movements. You kissed him back and allowed him to have more control, whining softly against his lips when he tugged a bit harder at your hair. Your own hands trailed down his body, tracing his shoulders and chest for a few moments before daring to go a bit lower. San groaned as he felt you palm him over his robe, tightening his grip on your hair and deepening the kiss as his own hand reached down to grab at your thighs and your ass. 

All your resolve melted away at his touch and you found yourself giving into him completely, relishing in the way he invaded your senses. All rationality had left completely, replaced with an unusual desire as San explored your body. As desperate as he was, his touches remained soft and left you craving more whenever he pulled his hand away. San walked you back until you reached the desk, lifting you up enough to sit you on top of it and slotting himself between your thighs as he finally pulled away. You only had a second to catch your breath before you were pushed back slightly and pinned down by your hands. San hovered above you with a knowing smirk, taking a moment to enjoy your flustered expression before leaning down to whisper directly in your ear. 

“Looks like I won. Game Over!” 

Ateez taglist: N/A

Please see my pinned post to be added to the taglist.

[snowbellewells]

@kmomof4 You already know how much I love and adore this whole story, and this second part in general, because my “beta work” became a lot more flailing and squealing about all the parts I adored than much helpful comment or editing. Still, it definitely deserves to be reblogged and praised again.

I loved how you wrote Emma and Killian in whole form at the start of this, the reunion with her parents, their wedding celebration — seriously SO MUCH GOODNESS all in a single addition to the story!!! 🐺😍🐺😍🐺

And the Papa Charming welcoming his daughter’s True Love and true mate into the family fold? That was the part that seriously had me tearing up. Masterful from beginning to end!!! ❤️🐺❤️🐺❤️ Thank you for sharing it with us!!!

The Arena Ch. 2 CS Spooky Season/Autumnal Bingo

I made it!!!! My first Bingo offering!!! I hope you enjoy this fluff-fest of an ending to my CSSNS24 fic The Arena! I'm so thrilled to join in this fall writing challenge where all the fics written so far have just been fantastic!!!! You can find the rest of the fics here.

Thank you to @hollyethecurious for the Bingo idea and for making the cards and collection on ao3 and thank you also to @snowbellewells for betaing this fic!! And finally, as always, thank you to @motherkatereloyshipper for her beautiful artwork that she made to accompany the fic last summer. It's still quite appropriate even though we're not actually in the arena any more... you can see her artwork under the cut.

Fic Summary:

The arena.

A place of fear. Oppression. Blood. Death.

A place of shattered hopes and dreams.

A place, for a very lucky few, of hope.

Ch Summary:

Emma and Killian return to her home.

Rating: M (for graphic depictions of violence and smut)

On ao 3 From the beginning / Ch2

On Tumblr

Words: 4600 of 7800

Tags: CSSNS24, Werewolves, True Love, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Happy Ending, Smut

Tagging the usuals. Please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed.

@jrob64 @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @the-darkdragonfly @jennjenn615

@donteattheappleshook @undercaffinatednightmare @pirateherokillian @cocohook38 @qualitycoffeethings

@booksteaandtoomuchtv @superchocovian @motherkatereloyshipper @snowbellewells  @djlbg

@lfh1226-linda @xarandomdreamx @tiganasummertree @bluewildcatfanatic @anmylica

@laianely @resident-of-storybrooke @exhaustedpirate @gingerchangeling @caught-in-the-filter

@ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite @captainswan-kellie

@soniccat @beckettj @teamhook @whimsicallyenchantedrose @thisonesatellite

@jonesfandomfanatic @elfiola @zaharadessert @ilovemesomekillianjones @mie779

@kymbersmith-90 @suwya @veryverynotgoodwrites @myfearless-love 

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

Ch. 2 Homeward Bound

Killian uncurled himself from his mate, his True Love, as the rising sun lit up the small cave they’d taken shelter in the evening before. He and Emma had been traveling together just over a month since they’d escaped the arena where they met - himself a willing captive, while his love had been kidnapped, restrained, and forced to participate in the depraved contest for the entertainment of the now forcibly deposed emperor. 

It hadn’t been long after their escape that they’d decided to return to Emma’s home many leagues to the east on the far edge of the empire. Staying in their wolf forms, for ease of traveling, they had nearly reached their destination at last. Emma recognized the forest that surrounded her small village in which her family’s farm was on the far side. After the very long day of traveling, in addition to the uncertainty of what they’d find when they arrived at her home, Emma had asked to rest overnight still under the cover of the forest. As her mate, her protector, and her True Love, Killian had of course acceded to her wishes. 

Now with the sun well into the sky, Killian lifted his head and turned his attention to the entrance of the cave. The small forest creatures had been awake for some time already, and he could hear their scurrying feet outside their resting place. Once Emma woke, they’d procure sustenance - much easier to do in wolf form than human form since they had no coin between them - and make their way to her home.

He could just detect a difference in her breathing that told him she’d soon wake. He began nosing and licking her muzzle, gently coaxing her into wakefulness. She shook her head and opened her mouth in a jaw-popping yawn before her gorgeous green eyes - that matched the forest outside - blinked open and settled on him. Killian nuzzled his snout, then his entire head underneath her upturned jaw, showering his mate with tender affection as his body curled around hers until he rested his head on her haunches and she laid her head across his back.

They rested like that for just a few moments before Emma raised her head and stood up, giving herself a vigorous shake. Killian grinned at his mate, not yet over the awe he felt beholding her beauty; anytime really, but especially in the morning light that made her white fur nearly blinding. If the gods did decide to strike him blind at that moment, he would have no cause to complain, and in fact, would be eternally grateful that his True Love was the last thing he ever beheld. He’d hold her in his mind’s eye until death parted them, even if that day was a hundred years hence.

Shaking himself as well, he stood and made his way to the front of the cave, peering out into the forest surrounding them. Looking back toward his mate to see if she was ready to head out, he took a great bounding leap into the deep green foliage, Emma right behind him. They raced through the woods, their keen eyes looking out for a deer that they might enjoy before traveling the last few miles to Emma’s family farm.

Luck was on their side, and once they’d satisfied their hunger, they took off toward the edge of the woodland that bordered the village in which Emma had been born and raised. When they finally arrived at the farm, Killian could clearly see that Emma’s fears of what she’d find when she arrived home were entirely justified. The fields of grain that she’d described to him were now nothing more than scorched earth in front of them. Emma stood next to him, still as death, until she raised her snout to the sky and released a long, mournful howl that he quickly joined.

The forlorn refrain carried over the decimated fields, their wolf song expressing their joint grief and sorrow for the destruction of her home. The place that they’d both hoped to be able to make a home for themselves and their future family. As the melancholy lay filled the sky, Killian suddenly heard two other bereaved voices join in his and Emma’s song.

Emma’s voice choked at the unexpected addition - her song cut off as if with a knife - and her ears twitched toward the other melody. Suddenly she streaked away, running faster than he’d ever seen. Killian wasted no time chasing after her and had nearly caught up with her furious flight when he could see two other wolves racing towards them. 

Killian stopped, somehow knowing exactly who these wolves were. Emma leaped at the larger of the two, who’d risen on his back legs to meet her, embracing her as well as could be expected in wolf form. The smaller of the two wolves stood nearby and transformed as the other two joyfully greeted one another, with yips, howls, and rolling around together on the ground. 

A black haired petite woman stood where the wolf had been, and Killian could see the resemblance between his Emma and this woman who could only be her mother. The only difference was their hair color and the age difference. She launched herself at the two wolves still entangled on the ground. Killian felt like his heart was going to explode with happiness as he watched the reunion between his True Love and her parents. He transformed, then waited patiently where he was until Emma and her father both transformed and she turned to him, tears in her eyes and beckoned him toward them.

“Mama, Papa,” she began, reaching out her hand toward him, “this is Killian Jones, my True Love.” The man and woman turned to him, the woman’s green eyes - so like his love’s - also filled with tears.

“True Love?” she asked, a watery smile lifting her lips.

As Killian moved toward them, he realized that her parents were utterly unconcerned with the state of their clothing, but he still felt terribly exposed with nothing on but the ragged breaches he’d been wearing the day of the contest. He was glad that Emma still had the cloak he’d given her wrapped around her. He’d hate for her father to see the rags she now wore.

“Aye,” Killian replied, coming close and taking Emma’s outstretched hand. “Emma was the prize in the arena I was competing in, and as soon as our eyes met, my wolf returned. I’d lost him when I was but a lad, when an angry shopkeeper cut off my hand.” He looked down at his restored limb, still not used to seeing it after living so many years without it. Emma’s mother grasped it firmly and pulled him to her, embracing him fiercely. He hadn’t felt the love and acceptance of a mother in almost fifteen years, and he wasn’t terribly surprised when his own eyes filled with tears of their own.

Finally releasing him, she introduced herself and her husband to him. “I’m Mary Margaret and this is David. We are so very pleased to meet you, Killian Jones.”

“You’ve brought our daughter home to us,” David said, placing his hand on his shoulder. “There’s nothing we could say or do to repay the kindness you’ve shown us.”

“You owe me nothing,” Killian replied. “We wanted nothing more than to come here and find a home where we could raise a family.”

“After we woke to the fire,” Mary Margaret began, turning questioning eyes onto her husband when he gently placed his hand on her arm.

“We should probably return to town to find a place to stay before exchanging stories,” he suggested. “It will take some time before we’ll be able to rebuild and return here for good,” he continued, turning sorrowful eyes at the fields before them.

“Of course,” his wife agreed. They all turned toward the small village in the distance and began walking as Mary Margaret continued her story. “We knew the tales. The brutality of Arthur’s rule and how he wouldn’t hesitate to steal, kill, and destroy to keep his subjects in line. We just never really thought he’d bother with us all the way out here, so far away from the capitol. But when the fire woke us, and after it was out there was no trace of Emma, we knew what had happened. That she’d been taken as either an addition to his harem or as a prize for the arena. With the farm destroyed, we set out to search for her. We were willing to pay any price, do anything to bring her home with us once we found her. We hadn’t found any trace of her at the other three arenas and were finally on our way to the capitol when we heard a rumor that Arthur had been attacked and killed by a wolf in the arena.” 

Mary Margaret paused and brought her hand to her chest as more tears filled her eyes, a single drop falling down her cheek. David wrapped his arm around her shoulder and drew her close to his side in comfort, and Killian and Emma smiled gently, encouraging her to continue.

“When we heard the tale,” she resumed after a deep fortifying breath, “we couldn’t help but hope that perhaps Emma was the wolf, and since Arthur was dead, she’d be able to escape and come home. So instead of continuing toward the capitol - that was still about a week’s travel away from where we were - we decided to come home, in the hopes of finding Emma here.”

“Killian was the wolf in the arena,” Emma supplied. “I was the prize, but they’d put a magic bracelet on me that I couldn’t remove and that kept me from changing.” She squeezed Killian’s hand in affection and looked up at him, her eyes filled with love. “When our eyes met before he transformed…” she paused, her emotions overcoming her. Killian squeezed her hand in support and after another moment or two, she was able to continue. “I felt a connection with him that I’d never known before. None of the others even registered in my mind. I noticed he only had one hand, so I was stunned when he transformed, and if I hadn’t had that bracelet on, I would have joined him. But he took care of all the other competitors and then attacked Arthur. When he came back, he had both hands. So I knew the only way that could have happened was if he was my True Love. He wouldn’t have been able to transform with only one.”

By this time they had reached the outskirts of the village and were making their way down the main street toward the inn. When they entered, Killian looked around, taking in the rough but clean interior with an older woman behind the counter. As soon as her eyes landed on them, her rather severe countenance broke into a brilliant smile full of joy and affection.

“David, Mary Margaret, Emma,” she cried, coming around the counter toward them. It was only moments before Emma and her parents were engulfed in an enthusiastic and affectionate embrace that they all eagerly returned. “When you were all gone after the fire, we feared the worst. And it’s been so long now, we’d nearly lost hope that you’d ever return.”

“Emma was kidnapped to be a prize in the arena,” David began, “and we set out to look for her. When we heard about Arthur’s death, we came home, hoping that Emma would soon be returned to us.” He turned to Killian, and brought him forward toward the old woman. “Killian is Emma’s True Love and brought her home. He was the wolf that killed Arthur. Killian, this is Granny Lucas.”

Killian nodded in greeting. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Lucas,” he said.

“Oh, no no no, Killian,” Mary Margaret interjected before anyone else could. “Everyone calls Granny Lucas Granny, and you’ll be expected to do the same.”

Granny nodded in agreement, her stern countenance back in place until Killian nodded in acquiescence. “A pleasure to meet you, Granny,” he corrected himself.  

At his words, he found himself caught up in just as fierce a hug as his companions had enjoyed only a few minutes before. Not used to such blatant gestures of affection, it took him a moment to reciprocate. Once she released him, David spoke again.

“We all just arrived back at the farm today.” Granny was obviously aware of the condition of their home, because the joy on her face abruptly turned to sorrow.

“There really wasn’t anything left for you to come home to,” she commiserated. Just as quickly, her visage turned serious and determined. “You know that you have a place here as long as you need it. All of you have a place here until you can rebuild.”

“Thank you, Granny,” David replied.

The lovable old woman directed David and Mary Margaret to a table and bustled Emma and Killian up the stairs to get decent clothes for them. Once she brought them back down in borrowed clothes from her granddaughter Ruby and her husband Graham, she sat them down at the table with David and Mary Margaret, and only a few minutes later, brought out a hearty noontime meal and fresh baked bread for the family. Business was steady, but not so busy that Granny and Ruby were not both able to visit with the small family as they enjoyed the warm food. Emma and Killian repeated their story whenever Granny and Ruby joined them and filled in the gaps that hadn’t yet been disclosed to David and Mary Margaret. Once they were finished, Mary Margaret responded.

“So you haven’t actually been wed yet?”

Emma and Killian cast shy glances at each other before Killian answered for them. 

“No, actually,” he said. “We left the arena in our wolf forms immediately, and I just followed her. She told me that she wanted to return home after being away for almost a year, and since I haven’t had a home since my mother died fifteen years ago, I was more than willing to go with her. It was much easier to travel in our wolf forms. We didn’t have to worry about paying for lodging or cooking meals - so that’s what we’ve done. Now that we’re here, and ready to settle down, we’ll be in our human forms.”

“We must arrange a wedding at once,” Mary Margaret enthused. The joy was clear on her face, and Killian could feel his cheeks heat as he glanced at his love and saw the same soft and loving smile on her face as he was sure was on his. “After losing you a year ago,” Mary Margaret continued, “I despaired of ever seeing you in love, married, and with a family of your own.” She reached across the table and grasped Emma’s hand, squeezing it tightly. “Now that you’re here - that we’re together - we mustn’t waste a day.”

Killian looked down at his love and with that silent communication between them - further proof of their True Love connection, as if they needed one - expressed their own desires for that very thing. Staying in wolf form since the day they met, they’d not consummated their relationship in any way, and now that they were truly home, the thought of making love with his True Love made his breath catch.

“Archie can perform the ceremony,” Ruby said, Granny, and Mary Margaret voicing their agreement.

“And I can prepare a feast the village hasn’t seen since your wedding, Ruby,” Granny added. She rose quickly to go find Graham so she could send him to the forest to bring back the required meat for the planned celebration that evening.

Emma rested her head on Killian’s shoulder and sighed in contentment as he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. Once the rest of their meal was consumed, Mary Margaret and Ruby took Emma upstairs to prepare her for the wedding, and David and Killian left to join Graham in the forest.

Killian pulled David aside, not wanting to be overheard.

“We could bring down a few deer much easier as wolves than humans,” he began, when David interrupted him.

“Graham is a wolf too,” he informed him. Killian gasped in shock. Never meeting another wolf in his entire life, and then in the space of a month, meeting his True Love - who was also a wolf - her parents who were both wolves themselves, and now Graham… It was completely overwhelming. 

David grinned. “Our entire village is made up of wolves. That’s why we’re on the very edge of the empire.”

Killian couldn’t disguise his surprise if he tried. His mouth hung open, and it took a moment before he could think of anything coherent to say in response. “Before Emma, I’d never met another wolf. Besides my father,” he added quickly.

David squeezed his shoulder. “You’ll be in very good company here, Killian.”

Killian swallowed hard and smiled at his love’s father. “Thank you.”

David pulled him into a quick but tight embrace that expressed everything they couldn’t yet put into words. Pulling away, they both transformed and turned to see a tawny wolf moving silently through the trees. Hunting as part of a pack was an entirely new experience for Killian, and it took almost no time at all to bring down several deer, enough to feed the entire village. 

Once the men got the animals to the village, dressed, and ready for cooking, delicious smells were already permeating the air around the inn. There was an air of celebration in the village with David greeting his friends and neighbors he hadn’t seen in a year and telling them Emma and Killian’s story.

Hours later, Killian stood in the middle of what would be his and his bride’s room for their wedding night, dressed in the finest clothes he’d ever worn, even if they were borrowed from Graham. His head was almost spinning. His life had turned completely around in the space of a month, and this day alone, it had changed in even more unexpected ways. He was about to wed his True Love. The one fated for him by the gods, whom he’d never really believed he’d meet. He was about to join his life to hers, she would join hers to him, and they would join her family in a village full of wolves to raise a family of their own. Tears filled his eyes as David approached him and clasped his shoulder.

“I have nothing to say,” he began, his own eyes shining. “Seeing you together, it is clear to me that there is no one better suited for my daughter than you, Killian Jones. I know that you will love her, provide for her and the family you raise together, cherish her, and honor her to the end of your days, and there is nothing that I could desire more. Welcome to the Swan family, son.”

David pulled Killian to him in a tight embrace that Killian returned with fervor.

“Thank you for accepting me into your family,” he murmured into his shoulder.

It was a long moment before David released him with a beaming smile. 

“Let’s get you married!” he exclaimed happily, and Killian couldn’t agree more.

They came down the stairs and met Graham. The younger men exited the inn, turning toward a beautiful multicolored tent erected a little ways down from the establishment, where stood a thin man with curly red hair, that he assumed must be Archie who would perform the ceremony. Killian and Graham approached him, Killian barely noticing all the people gathered to celebrate the nuptials. 

As soon as they took their places, they turned back toward the inn to see David and Mary Margaret, with Emma in between them, emerge from the building. Killian caught his breath at his bride’s beauty. She wore a long cream gown that, in Killian’s eyes, put the setting sun to shame. Her golden hair only added to the glow that surrounded her. In that moment, everything and everyone else faded away, his full attention on his beautiful bride. 

The ceremony itself was brief, with both of them making vows to love, honor, and cherish one another until death parted them. Once their vows were spoken, the villagers cheered as they sealed their union with a tender kiss. Killian didn’t think he’d ever forget the deep love and happiness in Emma’s eyes as they parted, knowing they reflected exactly the same thing in his.

Granny, Ruby, and Mary Margaret immediately began setting out the prepared feast for the village as everyone else surrounded the newly married couple. After the meal was consumed and everyone was happy and relaxed, David sent Killian a significant look that he had no trouble interpreting. 

“Now’s your chance to leave,” David told him. “Everyone is still enjoying themselves and no one will miss you. The other men and I will be talking about rebuilding our home, and,” he continued when Killian opened his mouth to interrupt, “a home for you and Emma will also be discussed, I can assure you.”

“Thank you,” Killian replied. He turned to Emma to see joyful anticipation dancing in her gaze. He took her hand and brought it to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on the knuckles. “Shall we, my darling one?” he asked.

“We shall, my husband,” she breathed.

With those words, he led her inside the inn and up to their room. He closed the door firmly behind him and turned to his bride. She was ethereal in her beauty. More breathtaking than anything in heaven or on earth. The thought that she was now his nearly brought him to his knees in profound gratitude.

“When they took me, I thought my life was over,” she murmured. “But instead it led me to you, my True Love.” Tears filled her eyes, and he silently took her in his arms and held her close.

“I never thought I’d actually find my True Love,” he replied softly. “When my mother told me my wolf was gone when I woke from my fever, she told me not to give up hope. That I would find her someday.”

He cupped her chin in both his hands and just stared into her eyes for a moment, getting lost in the love and joy he found there. Impatience tinged with mischief filled her gaze as she refused to wait any longer. She drew him down to her lips and claimed him with all the strength of the wolf inside of her. Killian chuckled against her lips and opened his mouth to her seeking tongue.

When their tongues met, a contented sigh fell from his love’s mouth, that he took full advantage of. The kiss at their wedding had been their first, and it had whetted their appetite for a full conflagration at the earliest opportunity.  A groan passed from his lips that she eagerly reciprocated as both of their hands roamed, utterly delighted to finally be able to touch one another.

Killian’s hands shook as he pulled back from Emma and gently pushed the gossamer fabric of her gown off her shoulders so that it cascaded in a whispered ripple to the floor. The moment she was bared to him, he drew her back into his embrace, his kiss possessive and passionate, showing her without words how much he loved her. 

Now that he held her in his arms again, she began her own explorations, undressing him quickly and efficiently until he stood naked before her. Her roaming hands and kisses were driving him mad with desire, and the wolf inside of him howled in enjoyment of her touch. 

The intrinsic True Love connection between them only heightened their passionate pleasure as they lay down together on the bed. Killian had never laid on anything so soft and comfortable as a human before - the closest he’d ever come to it was a soft pile of leaves he’d rest upon as a wolf - and the twin sighs that came from him and his love made them both grin in amused delight before bursting into laughter.

“It’s so lovely to have an actual mattress to sleep on again,” she observed once their mutual mirth faded. “It had been so long, I nearly forgot what it felt like.”

“I’ve never laid on anything so luxurious, so soft,” he replied, ducking his head slightly when her eyes grew round with surprise. Even with their True Love connection, they really hadn’t delved much into their respective pasts in the last month as they journeyed, so Killian worried for a moment that as he opened up to her just this tiny bit about his past, it might cause her to look at him differently. But as he looked into her eyes again, all he saw was sincere admiration and the same love he’d become accustomed to over the last weeks as they traveled.

“We’ll have the same, or even better, once our own home is built, Killian,” Emma promised him, a teasing smile now lifting the corner of her lips. “But for now, I think we should put this mattress to good use. Don’t you?” she asked.

His own smirk touched his lips. “I do,” he agreed, before claiming her lips once more. His touch grew bolder, his kisses more passionate, and she responded in kind until they couldn’t stand to be two individuals any longer. Killian positioned himself between her legs and made them one with a single stroke, a cry of ecstasy pulled from Emma’s lips that Killian would never tire of hearing as long as he lived.

She clenched around him as he drove himself into her, pushing them both toward that precipice that was just out of reach. Emma’s legs trembled, and Killian knew she was closer than he was, so he reached down and rubbed circles around her hardened nub until with a shattered cry she fell into the abyss of pure pleasure a second time, dragging him along with her.

It was several minutes before he was able to move and roll off of his love, drawing her into his arms as their bodies cooled. He kissed her forehead, tasting the sweat on her skin, and smiled tenderly at her.

“I love you, Emma Swan,” he whispered.

“Jones,” she corrected him, her eyes already shut and with a sleepy but sated smile on her face.

“Jones,” he agreed, smiling fondly down at her. “I’m so thankful that I am yours and you are mine.”

“Hmmmm,” she said, almost too quiet to hear, “me, too.”

“I will give you all of my life,” he vowed. “I will always be by your side. To the end of the world, or time.”

Emma didn’t respond, her breaths already evened out into the gentle cadence of sleep. As Killian drew her closer into his embrace, he was finally able to believe that this wasn’t a dream - the dream of a homeless street urchin who had despaired of ever finding true happiness, outside of his own death. 

He finally had a home. A home with Emma. A home with her family. A home within this village of wolves, just like him. He didn’t think it was possible to be happier, until the thought crossed his mind of the future children they’d raise together. But if the gods never blessed him in that way, he at least had his newfound family, and he’d be forever grateful for that.

His happy and contented thoughts ushered him into the sweetest dreams he’d ever known, and they both slept peacefully until the morning light, signaling the start of their new life. 

Together. Never to part. 

~*~*~

Thank you for reading and sharing! I'd love to know what you think!

[snowbellewells]

CSSNS24 fic: "For All Life and For All Time" {Part Two}

I certainly did not intend to keep everyone waiting so long for Part Two, but I won't ramble on with a lot of excuses, I'll just let you get right into the story. The action here picks up just after Part One left off, and with finding out what the rest of their brave band is doing in Emma's absence. I hope you'll still enjoy despite the delay - and, as always, I'd love to hear what you think!

A Victorian, Dracula-inspired AU in Three Parts written for the @cssns24 event

Summary: Having lost her dearest friend and with her own life on the line, Emma Swan joins a noble band to face an ancient evil. Three of them stand by her in honor of the one they loved and lost. The other might be the first man she could love. He might love her as well - even more than life itself. Time will tell... if they both survive the fight against their immortal enemy.

Also available on AO3, if that's your preference...

Part Two

Killian Jones could not help but worry incessantly, pacing the floor of Lord Briarling’s study without ceasing, mind assailed by all which could go wrong. He had no doubt of Miss Swan’s bravery, her determination, or her intentions - she was a wholly incomparable woman - unlike any he had ever encountered, even his Milah long ago. The problem was, he knew better than most just how powerful, how debilitating the will and control of the being they faced… that they had sent Emma to face alone.

Already, he had asked much of her in the short time he had known her. The trust Emma Swan had bestowed up on him in return was nothing short of astounding. She was smart, discerning, careful not to be falsely taken in - and yet she had not doubted or questioned him, even when his orders and conclusions must have seemed egregious to her ears. That he had been forced to lead the men who had loved her dearest friend to stake and behead the poor sweet Aurora Spindleton’s corpse on the claim that the girl had been turned into a vampire must have seemed an intolerable insult; yet she had steeled herself and accepted the dire need, not holding their actions against any of them.

Not only that, but Emma had stood forth boldly, seeking what she could do to end this creature’s reign before more were turned, their lives destroyed as her friend’s had been. Her voice might have trembled, but she stood straight and tall, her chin jutting forward in stubborn resolve. Though Killian knew she must have been afraid, her pale, perfect face looking to him for guidance had seemed like a candle’s flame breaking through surrounding darkness - more beautiful than anything he had ever seen.

It was a risk, certainly, this plan they had concocted in the hopes of ensnaring their quarry. He certainly did not relish the idea of sending Emma alone into perilous surroundings. The thought of her in the Count’s thrall without himself or at least one of their compatriots at her side was enough to bring bile rushing up his throat and a cold pit of fear to settle in his gut. The demon was unpredictable, nearly invincible, and suffered no compunction or fits of conscience to reign his actions. And yet, despite the way his limbs nearly burned for action, how he had wanted to follow behind her carriage to see to her safety, Killian knew their best possibility of luring Count Dracula von Stiltskin into their net and putting him off his guard enough to attack with success was to send her to him in the guise of a besotted innocent. Emma was beguiling enough, and the Count’s thirst, even the Count’s intention, was already turned toward her. He had to trust that she could hold her own, and that she could respond with false interest while still remaining on her guard.

Yet, it was the not-knowing which made his wait so trying. There was no way to ascertain what Emma might have already been faced with - or was already enduring - now that she was out of their reach and beyond communication with him. That morning before the sun had even fully broken across the chill sky, Killian had ridden out on his sturdy Andalusian to follow the path Emma’s carriage had taken the previous night. By the time he had reached the empty and abandoned conveyance and found no sign of either Emma or her driver, he had already known it was a futile journey, yet it was all he could think of to do. It only made his nightmarish reel of possible scenarios Emma might be suffering cycle through his mind more quickly. The poor horses were still hitched, and to Killian’s surprise, still in the area, despite having no tie or guidance, but they were pawing the ground, eyes wild with fear, and he had been able to bring them back to Lord Briarling’s chateau and see them properly tended. Where he had located the carriage though was in the forbidding shadow of the dark, austere castle towering over the area. Even the poor beasts had sensed the ��wrongness” in the air - the presence of something wild and unnatural. 

They had all tracked the monster back from his prowl across English soil to the outskirts of his own country. As fate would have it, the Briarling estate owned a hunting outpost just before one crossed over the Romanian border - long unused but perfectly suited to their needs. From there, Emma had ventured on alone, and the rest of waited unwillingly until they could follow.

Finally, Killian stood and strode from the room to find his compatriots in this almost unreal, but necessary, mission. It was now well into the new day, the sun full and warming overhead and rendering the next several hours much safer from their lurking foe. He heard the others moving in the hall and throughout other rooms on the floor below. They have much to do, and the sooner they are off to complete their part of the overall plan, the sooner he can be off to face Dracula head-on at last, after so many years and so much turmoil and waiting. Even more importantly, the sooner they can ride after Emma, hopefully finding her still well and whole, and bring her back to safety again.

He found them all - Sir Philip Thornswood, Graham Morris, and his old friend and colleague Jefferson Seward in the sun porch, partaking in coffee or tea and a late breakfast, but quietly and with an undercurrent of tension, waiting and knowing that their next move was nigh, yet not sure what that move might be. As Killian appeared in the doorway, all three heads turned toward him abruptly, eyes alert, and in Morris’ case, even half-rising from his chair, coiled to spring into action.

“Van Helsing,” Jefferson greeted simply, standing to bring him a cup of coffee and place a strong hand on his shoulder in support. The greeting jarred him in itself, as he had spent much more time recently in Emma’s company - first tending to Aurora, then listening to Emma’s fond memories and intense grief and anger, and then outlining their plan of attack for her - what she must do and how to keep herself as safe as possible. However, in her presence, he had let down his guard and allowed himself to be simply “Killian”, far more than he had done in a very long time. 

“When do we set out?” Jeff pressed, his mouth pursed in tense readiness as his eyes busily attempted to read Killian’s face. 

He took the cup from the physician and drew a long pull of the hot liquid, wincing slightly at its heat and bitterness, even as he savored its familiarity. Pausing only a moment, he then nodded sharply, as if to acknowledge all of them deferring to his direction.

“The task before us is a weighty one,” Killian began solemnly, meeting their eyes and quickly confirming each man’s commitment. “It will not be easily accomplished, but must be done - whatever the cost - if we are to stand any chance against this devil we face.”

Each man, Seward, Morris, and Thornswood in turn, nodded their assent, understanding on their faces and merely awaiting his instruction to take action. In every one of their bearing, he saw the intent and the loss that drove them; they would do what they must and would not shrink from fear or challenge.

“We are aware that the Count must have other lairs, a maze of strongholds in which to hide from the light, as he has made his way far from his citadel in the mountains - with a purpose he has not evinced in an age. Each and every one of these must be destroyed. He must be forced into the open where we stand a chance to fight him.”

“Right you are, Mate,” Graham spoke up with brisk determination, but a slightly puzzled expression marring his brow. “I’ve no question with that.  If sunshine and open space be his only weakness, then we must do away with all his shadows. But how may we know where he has chosen to hide? And, once found, how may we be certain to dismantle each lair?”

Killian’s gaze flicked over to Jefferson’s, as if gauging from his friend who knew Morris better whether or not he should bare all. At the Doctor’s subtle nod, Killian launched into his past history with the Count - how he had watched and studied the monster, waiting and biding his time until he had finally gathered enough knowledge to strike while Dracula von Stiltskin would be most vulnerable to harm. It had to make a mark, for when fighting such a one as this, he might not get a second chance.

When he had finished his condensed tale of explanation, he paused, eying Lord Briarling, Philip Thornswood, in particular with acute regret. “That I was too late to help our dear Miss Spindleton is a heavy burden I must bear,” he finally intoned, forcing the words past clenched teeth and a tight throat. “But I can only pray you will still trust the information I have and the hope that we can save ourselves and countless others, along with our brave and true Miss Swan, who was so dear to Aurora. When Jefferson’s urgent summons reached me, I was in truth already on my way to these parts. All my tracking, spying, and observation had finally bought me an opening that led me straight to this very countryside, even as you called upon me to assist.”

“No wonder you arrived so quickly,” Jefferson exclaimed, clearly taken aback by this revelation that was new to him as well.

He might have said more, but Morris had already broken in urgently. “What had you discovered then? How can it help us?”

Killian noticed that Sir Philip was silent nearest the window, clearly listening to their exchange, but not moving or speaking, a pained look of focus etched upon his features. He could not tell what the other man was thinking, or if beneath his grief the bitterness was taking poisonous root. Whether he laid blame at Killian’s feet or no, he could not judge Van Helsing more harshly than Killian already judged himself. All the time and the sweat and blood, the effort of years, and he had still been too late to thwart the vampire’s draining another innocent of life. 

Drawing in a deep breath, Killian plowed on, not having any recourse but to see the story through to the present. Whether any of them deemed his plans reliable or possible to carry out, he needed to be on his way. He would do all he knew to weaken von Stiltskin, to bring on even an ounce of human weakness he might inflict, before facing the demon once more. He would not - no, he could not survive it - if he were forced to see Emma suffer the same fate as his Milah, and Aurora, had before her.

“There was a ship,” Killian explained, holding out a staying hand as Graham began to pace - needing the movement and action so much that Killian feared the cowboy might race to the docks that very moment before he could even explain what they sought. “It made slow, hidden voyage all the way from (Varna?) near where his castle stands overlooking (Transylvania?) to our English shores undetected. Even with contacts and spies scattered throughout the distance between, I did not hear of its existence until it stopped briefly at some small port for supplies. The uneasy fear its very presence impressed upon the harbormaster there made it memorable enough for him to note when he was next questioned of any strange happenings in his jurisdiction. The description of a dark and eerily silent ship, barely in dock an hour, and odder still, with hardly enough crew to properly man its decks, was enough to convince me Von Stiltskin was on the move with some nefarious purpose in mind - especially joined as it was with reports that he himself had not been sighted on his own lands in some weeks, even at night when he usually hunts.”

His three man audience was captivated now, motionless with eyes fixed upon him as Killian continued his ghastly tail. “However, as concerning as this news was, no one had any way to be certain where he was bound. I was at that point in Italy, seeking a holy relic - a jewel hilted dagger from the Crusades - which my studies had led me to believe might equip one to mortally wound the vampire. I needed to have it in hand before returning to English shores.”

Jefferson opened his mouth at this, no doubt to ask if the mission had been successful, but his friend’s lips snapped together again wordlessly when Killian pulled the weapon from the hidden pocket inside his heavy, dark cloak. Holding it out upon his palm for their perusal, he watched as each member of their band registered its clear import silently, seeming to straighten their shoulders and steel themselves further. This dagger signified their way forward.

“No others know this blade is in my possession,” Killian intoned seriously. “And it must remain that way. One of the very few things which can strike fear into the Count’s blackened heart is the existence of this item which can control his power and do him mortal harm. Though legends and rumors disagree upon how it was ever wrested from his possession, it almost certainly torments him not to have it - the one thing keeping him from true invincibility. I found it safeguarded by a long-forgotten hidden order of monks and managed to successfully convince them I was the correct avenger with whom to entrust the relic. Unfortunately - “

He bowed his head toward Sir Philip Thornswood once more, a heavy moment of quiet remembrance covering the room before he wet his lips and carried on at Philip’s small acknowledgement. “Unfortunately, I was too late. I was still a week’s journey from the English coast when I received Dr. Seward’s summons, along with a notification of the same dark, silent ship docking in Whitby, only to horrify all those at the harbor with the discovery that all aboard it were dead - and this only after a large, black wolf had leapt from its deck snarling and slavering and cutting a path through the area and up into the surrounding wooded hills, leaving behind it an echoing howl that set all who heard its hair on end and chilled them to the bone. They found the poor captain a mere corpse lashed to the mast, note clutched in his hand detailing how something in the dark was picking them off one by one. He was the last one alive and dared not sleep, but knew at some point his body must do so; the note was his attempt to explain what might be found remaining on board.

“The Count!” Sir Philip spat with the force of an invective. “Murdered his own crew as it transported him? For what purpose?”

“He had reached his destination,” Killian answered simply, not at all nonchalant about the slaughter, but needing to be clear how very little a life - any life - truly was to worth to Dracula. “They had served their purpose, and he could not have any witnesses who might cause complications to his plans or raise an alarm (too soon?) If one could sully and drain the beauty and sweetness of an innocent such as your betrothed, my Lord, please be assured, no atrocity is beyond him.”

The sharp, almost spasmodic dip of Philip’s chin showed his frank agreement, having learned all too well the appalling truth of Killian’s words. “Right you are, Van Helsing,” he rasped with a voice that sounded almost rusted with disuse from the last few days’ wordless grief and brooding thought. “So tell us what we must do.”

“Indeed,” Morris chimed in readily, stepping forward once more. “You have the dagger, how will you wield it, and how shall the rest of us work to insure you succeed? We must be off and doing it.”

Killian inclined his head to each of his compatriots, acknowledging their eagerness and desire to be of use. “We will not have to wait much longer,” he assured them. “There is only one last part to my tale, and then we will be on the move, following the tracks he has recklessly left for us - too overconfident in his long invulnerability.”

Here he nodded to Jefferson to take over the narrative, the doctor having gone with him to see almost as soon as Killian had reached Whitby - nigh on a week ago. Emma Swan had requested a mere hour or two alone with her dear friend, promising she knew how to do the few things left to them which would bring Aurora any comfort, and that she would send for them if there were an emergency. The young lady had been wasting away at that point, nothing to be done for her but attempt to ease her discomfort and bide the time. He had seen no harm to leaving Aurora in Emma’s capable hands, nor did he begrudge them any last feminine secrets or promises of the heart in the sweet Miss Spindleton’s final hours. He had needed to see for himself what had been found on the ship in any case, and he did wish for Jefferson’s accompaniment and the added benefit of his insight. 

“On that ship,” Jefferson began, picking up the story’s thread adroitly and pulling it taut again with speed. He held the other two men’s attention as rapt as Killian had done - perhaps more so even, due to their greater connection and shared history, “very little had been found at all, until Van Helsing and I ventured below, into the depths of the hold.”

Killian gratefully turned away as the Doctor raced through the rest of the information needed. He was thankful to have focus off of his person for a moment as he clenched and unclenched his fists and forced himself to draw in and release several deep, cleansing breaths. Every bit as impatient as Graham Morris to be riding into the fray, he only barely kept his impatience from showing through herculean effort. Staring out the window as he swallowed a long pull of rum from the flask discreetly hidden at his hip - he didn’t give a bloody damn how early in the day it was, though others might - Killian stared out the window and forced himself to remember that Emma knew what she was doing, of how often he had marveled at her strength, rather than letting his mind fly to all the ways she could have already been overpowered, tormented, broken beyond - 

With a harsh jerk of muscles that he feared could hardly be missed by the astute men around him, Killian spun away from the view out the window of the morning dew on the nearby fields and caught the last of Jefferson’s explanation.

“So, to the best of our knowledge and deduction, this metal casket full of raw earth must have been the one our Dracula traveled in - his shield by day, as it were. He has, no doubt, others scattered throughout the countryside at intervals so that he may move around as needed, stalking his chosen victims and adding to his cursed ranks while maintaining safe places to retreat from the light of the sun. We must split up, find these strongholds, and destroy the caskets within, leaving him no place to left to rest concealed.”

“Aye,” Killian resumed, signaling Jefferson seamlessly, and the doctor turned to get the maps he had brought, marked with the targets for them to hand to Thornswood and Morris. “We dare not travel and enter these possible lairs completely alone, but if we break into pairs and reconvene this evening when the task is completed, then we can make our way toward Castle Dracula itself as a reunited band. The fiend himself will have no choice but to flee back from whence he came when he sees that there is no other place for him to hide. We can only hope and pray that our brave Miss Swan has remained safe from his influence in body and mind, has been able to use her quick wit and feminine wiles as planned to infiltrate and put him at his ease. He will wish to prolong and savor his enjoyment of such a rare delicacy…” His abhorrence for the way the creature would view this woman as a mere object, as a possession to be enjoyed and then tossed aside, was clear in his pained expression and the way he nearly spat the words, even as he strove to be realistic about what she and the rest of them faced. “His last casket will no doubt be in his castle. If Emma can find and destroy it while he is unaware, and we arrive before his return to find it so… we will be ready for him. He will have to face us - once and for all - desperate and with no other hole in which to hide, weakened enough that we just might stand a chance against his evil power.”

As one, the other three were on their feet standing before him; all reached in, hands clasped between them in solemn promise. They would chase this demon to his end, or die in the attempt. If he had more than a moment to dwell in such thoughts, he would have been almost overcome with a surge of conflicting emotions. For years now, Killian had been a man apart - had forced himself to be so, out of duty and penance, and for the safety of any who might have joined him. The sense of brotherhood and belonging which flooded him before their tight huddle was broken seemed more than he could have hoped to find again in this life.

If only they might succeed in their wild hope of a quest… and he could reach Emma Swan to find her still well and whole… he might at last cease to be only his mission and a vindicating shadow of a man, and find himself once more a man of flesh and blood - with a life of warm reality - for her sake.

They had much to do before they could ride after her. It was time they began.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Emma held her breath while she crept through darkness thick and gray, heavy as hanging vines or a thick curtain, as she made her way determinedly through the bowels of Count Dracula von Stiltskin’s castle. Guided only by the small flare of a single candle in hand, a mere pinprick in the black veil surrounding her, for she dared no more, Emma slunk as soundlessly as possible down one long, deserted hall and corridor after another, moving lower floor by floor, her breath shallow with dread that kept her lungs from drawing in a full breath.

She had to be near the lowest level of the massive structure; it felt as though she had been alone in the dark for hours, for so long that it seemed she might never reach the end, even as she scolded herself it had to be fear and paranoia working on her nerves and overriding her good sense. When Killian had instructed her where to seek out the Count’s lair, he had reasoned that the further below the surface and into the Earth should could get, the more likely to find Dracula’s true resting place. His nest would be removed from all else, far from any risk of light or accidental exposure and discovery, and difficult to reach. The monster had not survived so long without caution and numerous safeguards - no matter the preternatural strength he wielded. 

Even at that, however, Emma still doubted her chances at finding his coffin bed - even if on the surface far above her all was still and von Stiltskin was far from home. It could not be so straightforward as all that. She feared all that could go wrong with her heart in her throat, even as she forced herself forward, one foot in front of another. 

Killian had also advised, and she had agreed with him - as daunting a challenge as it would be - that her best hope was to feign intrigue, curiosity, and an impulse she could not fight, once she encountered Dracula upon his own land. To implore him to expose her to the wonders, freedoms, and power at which her dear friend had only vaguely hinted. Their chance at convincing him she was stronger, that she would survive where Aurora had not, and that she, Emma, could be useful to him, was her prayer of survival and the way in for the rest of them following after - if she could keep up the charade that long.

It had turned her stomach to pretend interest, perhaps even wide-eyed attraction, when Dracula had met her waylaid coach in the darkness the night before - seeming to separate from the shadows so subtly that he must have been part of them. Every fiber of her being had teetered on rebellion at batting her lashes like some ninny and simpering coquettishly to wheedle a welcome into the vampire’s abode - so much so that she had fisted her hands into the fabric of her skirts to keep her fingers from balling up and smashing violently into the creature’s cold-eyed face.

But gain entrance she had, and the ancient being had played a dutiful host, a rich and generous nobleman offering food and shelter to a weary, lost traveler. He had smiled as he asked Emma of herself and what brought her to the area, but the whole time an undercurrent of knowing malice ran between them. He was already aware of her, had allowed her admittance because he wanted her there. Von Stiltskin watched her ever movement avidly - a spider waiting for the hapless, innocent fly to tumble into his web and be ensnared. Just as Emma knew what he was, the Count had been aware of her too, and had already decided she would add nicely to his macabre collection. It was eerie, unsettling knowledge that only served to put her further on edge, though the Count had not shown himself since bidding her adieu near midnight, telling her he was rarely available - “a busy man” - in daylight hours, but to make herself at home.

She had done just that, though certainly not for the sake of simply enjoying fine hospitality. Thankfully, her thoughts were saved from continuing on the same whirling cycle of wondering if the vampire knew exactly what her intentions were, where he might be, and if he watched her from the shadows, even at that very moment. Before her stood a heavy wooden door, solidly barring the passage she had begun to fear unending.

Having come too far at this point to give up, Emma struggled to pull the door open with one hand, not willing to put down the candle and risk its going out - the utter darkness she would be plunged into if that occurred struck sickening fear to her very core. Careful not to wrench too quickly and make more noise than absolutely necessary, the heavy barrier finally began to move as she continued to tug steadily with all her might.

The vault of sorts which greeted Emma beyond the door seemed exactly the sort of hidden nest she had sought. Though she felt her cheeks heat at how pleased and playfully self-satisfied he would be at hearing it, Emma allowed herself a mere moment to savor the image of Killian’s face when she was able to tell him how well he had guided her; it was almost exactly as he had attempted to describe. It might not be proper, but the effect even his image had on her pulse and shivering frame was a comfort there in the nightmare depths.

She moved forward with pure determination and force of will, though her knees trembled beneath her. Feeling for the satchel which hung at her waist, Emma tried to draw strength from the vial of holy water and the communion wafers she knew were stowed within. All was ready. She was ready. She needed only to find and open the coffin which must be von Stiltskin’s, put the emblems within the dirt it contained, and it could no longer house the vampire - his last refuge would be ruined for him.

As the light of her candle illuminated the small space, it was hard to miss the large, ancient-looking casket nearly central in the room on a sort of plinth.

‘Not a bit dramatic,’ Emma grumbled to herself in nervous comment. ‘Not at all.’  Still, she shook herself from the uncertain pause and hurried forward, not about to linger if she needn’t do so.

Having waited until the dusk of evening and for dinner once again to be concluded and for the Count to excuse himself from her presence for the night, Emma had only undertaken this venture when as sure as possible that he must be gone - out hunting or gathering his minions. That hardly made it easier to stand beside the coffin though - feeling more fragile and small than she’d ever had cause to in her life.

Finally, she forced out a tense breath and shoved the lid from the casket, not allowing herself to hesitate a moment longer. Every second she lingered was another second in which she could be discovered.

As the heavy lid fell away, clanging to the stone floor, Emma couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her, horror in every pore of her being. Dracula was there, lying still as Death in the coffin before her. Shock held her rigid in indecision for terrifying moments as her mind tried to process what to do, the other possible plan if given the miraculous opportunity.

Hands shaking, she fumbled for the hidden blade at her thigh, bypassing the elements and hoping to move right to staking the creature before it woke to find its stronghold breached. She raised her hand to strike, aiming to pierce the monster’s heart and paralyze him against any attack until she could manage to sever the head.

But before she could let the blow fall, those inhuman eyes flicked open, a garish sneer on his face as the reptilian eyes froze her in place helplessly. “Oh Miss Swan,” Dracula chided silkily, as one might scold a wayward soul who knew they’d earned their punishment. “You must know better than that. You see, I’ve been expecting you.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The hoofbeats of their horses pounded on the hard ground as the four riders raced desperately along the treacherous pass as quickly as they dared in the rapidly failing light. Night was falling fast, and though they had managed to ruin the numerous hideaways Dracula had planted along his route from ancient castle to the English soil he meant to claim, it still seemed an empty victory until they reached the end of this frantic ride. Only seeing Dracula himself reduced to ash and vanquished forever with absolute certainty would allow any member of the band rest or peace. That the first prong of their attack had been managed, allowed a flicker of hope but little more, as they careened around sharp corners of rocky cliff face and whipped past the grasping fingers of bare branches and thorned hedges; little green lived here, in what seemed a dark waste of gray stone and deathly stillness. Was it merely their horrified fancy, or had the entire region come to resemble its horrid master?

Killian could not bring himself to pull back on his mount’s reins, even as rocks skittered from the edges of the narrow, uneven path as it wound higher, and crashed down the steep incline with disturbing regularity - sharply reminding that their own fall would be no less swift if one step went wrong. Still, the tremor running through his hand clenched tightly on the braided leather leads was not fear for his own safety, or even that of the companions at his side, but the sense that their arrival had already taken far too long for the woman awaiting them. 

The sturdy Andalusian’s dark flanks were flecked with sweat as they at last crested the final winding rise and plunged into a dense copse of gnarled trees. As they left the shadows of the twisted grove minutes later, the grouping thick but not wide, they emerged upon a wide open expanse in the shadow of tall walls surrounding a wide gate on yet another sharp rise. Startlingly close to the Count’s forbidding stronghold at last, nearly on the proverbial doorstep before realizing it.

Killian did pull up then, his horse’s tossed head and the shivering of its coat making even the animal’s unease clear. The courtyard and grounds seemed quiet and deserted before them, but he looked to the other three men for any hesitation, a last warning to be alert and on their guard needless on the tip of his tongue that he swallowed back with effort.

Seeing no hint of hesitation in them either, Killian wheeled around to press onward. His horse had just begun to move again when a sharp jolt nearly wrenched him from his saddle. Searing pain clutched his insides, squeezing his gut until he couldn’t help doubling over his mount’s withers. Blinding light overtook his vision for a moment, and when it receded, he knew. Something had happened to Emma - or was happening even that moment as he struggled to regain his breath. He knew no science, history, or legend of such visceral physical connection, but the knowledge was certain in his blood all the same. They were somehow connected, and he was experiencing her turmoil and fear in his own veins.

Having managed to retain his seat, if only just, Killian charged forward, teeth grit in determination against the quivering in his limbs from the easing onslaught and the pounding of his traitorous heart. Seward, Morris, and Thornswood at his back had never been more welcome than in that moment, his heart gone cold within his chest no matter how hard he tried to steel himself for what awaited.

As they reached the towering doors in the surrounding wall, the entrance into the fortress itself, Killian swung from his horse’s back, pleased to find himself stumbling only slightly upon impact with the ground, his strength returning with every breath. A sharp swat to its flank sent the majestic creature off to safety, Killian musing idly that at least perhaps the Andalusian would survive the night. He was prepared to pry open the door with his bare hands until his fingers bled or beat at the sturdy wood with sticks and stones until he chipped the barrier away, so heedless was his need to get inside and reach Emma Swan before it was too late. Oh aye, he still desired the end of his long-sought foe, and would see it accomplished if it took another unfathomable stretch of years, but there was no hiding the truth from himself any longer. It was more important that Emma Swan lived - that her shining light not be extinguished by the vampire as had so many been before her. She was paramount - and beyond her, little else truly mattered, not in his deepest heart of hearts.

However, though they had all raised their hands or put shoulders to the gates to push, to see if the sturdy boundary could be moved, before they could, the portal shifted and with heavy groan began to move inward of its own volition. That, or it was rolled back dramatically by some powerful unseen force.

It didn’t bod well. Killian looked sideways to Jefferson, brow arched in suspicious query as if to confirm his suspicion. Their quarry knew they had arrived and was granting them entrance. His friend did not hold his gaze long; a stiff nod of agreement, and then his eyes fell with a terrible resignation and turning of his head to hide the expression. If the beast awaiting them wished their approach, what would surely greet them could only be horrendous.

None of that mattered though. Striding forward, the four men entered Dracula’s castle, needing only to step fully into the large entry hall before the thick doors were swung shut behind them with a bang, sealing them within. They could see by the flickering light of candles and torches throughout the wide, high-ceilinged space, but the fading evening’s natural light was held outside by the lack of windows in the stone walls and the heavy draperies concealing what apertures did exist, shielding the vampire from the rays that would burn him irreparably.

Eyes adjusted, all came up short, frozen at the nightmare tableau across the room, glowing a sickening amber and red in the flickering flames that illuminated it for their human sight. Not in the least slowed or phased by discovery, the creature continued what he had been about before their entrance. Held before him as a shield, stood Emma Swan, the vampire’s arms seemingly holding her upright as she slumped frighteningly limp within such firm grasp. Her blonde tresses streamed down her back like a flood of molten gold, but bile clogged Killian’s throat at the sight of the white-pale clawed hand that held it aside to bare her neck. From what he could see of her face, Swan’s eyes were open but unfocused in some sort of trance - though her hands did appear to be raised to push back futilely against von Stiltskin’s chest in hopes of holding him off.

The only thing granting him any sort of relief was the subtle rise and fall of her breast barely visible across the space separating them. She was still breathing, still trying to fight.

And then, as though he had merely been waiting for an audience to his depravity, Dracula sent one evil, calculating look at those who had hoped to defeat him, and bent to sink his fangs into Emma’s flesh.

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@grimmswan @ultraluckycatnd

[driaswrld]

one night only! — gojo satoru and geto suguru.

wc : 2.1k

summary : fem!reader goes to a club with shoko to be free from her scary guard dog besties, satoru and suguru show up anyway, just a bunch of intimacy really. maybe one lil suggestive part w satoru?? mention of wlw shoko and possible insinuation of stoner geto lmao

part of : the star paradox collection.

notes : i headcanon poly satosugu as often toeing the line between platonic love and romantic love bcus these three idiots rlly can't tell the diff sometimes. also shoko is gay and is my gf don't @ me. also this is ooc of how satoru and suguru would be at a club cs lets be fr satoru would be an emotional drunken mess while suguru is in the bathroom smoking or smth

other : im having so many teenage romance thoughts ab poly satosugu. also this was kinda inspired by a poly marauders fic i read agesss ago

current casette : i was never there - the weeknd. me and your mama - childish gambino.

You can feel the bass of the music in your throat, your heartbeat racing to catch up with it.

Parties like these only had one common thread : brainless, brainless fun.

“That one over there,” Shoko murmurs against your ear as discreetly as she can, but just as loud as for you to hear her over the thumping music inside the club. Your gaze moves from the sequin strap across Shoko’s shoulder and over to a girl across the way, a redhead, leaning against the bar and knocking back an expensive looking drink. “She’s pretty.” You turn your head to Shoko’s ear.

Satoru and Suguru have been… hovering these past few weeks.

You love them, truly, the bestest best friends anyone could ask for. But two popular conventionally attractive men by your side at all times? It does put a damper on your love life. Shoko would be able to understand your point of view — if she wasn’t playing for the other team at least.

The redhead looks over her shoulder out at the mass of bodies on the dancefloor, the dark blue dress she has on really accentuates her figure — among other things. “You should go tal–” Before you can finish, Shoko’s mouth is agape, eyes fixed on the girl, and being the wingwoman that you are, you shove her forward a little. “Talk to her.”

“You sure?” Shoko wobbles forward, tipsy but sober enough to take a pretty girl home. The neon lights inside the club flash pink and blue then red and green then pink and—

“I don’t wanna abandon you, name.” You only laugh at Shoko, giving her two firm thumbs up, nudging her forward again, and still, she stands there contemplating. That is, until the redhead turns around and locks eyes with Shoko.

Oh, she’s far gone already.

“Don’t leave my peripheral.” Shoko kisses the side of your cheek and begins to saunter off, just as the song playing in the club changes to a softer, more sensual song.

There’s something about parties. Something that gives you the uneasy feeling two specific people could pop up at any time – two people you’re trying very hard to make clear to that you’re your own woman.

What makes a grown man wanna cry?

You slide back to the spot on the dancefloor you and Shoko shared moments ago, and with a sigh of near relief, you let the music transcend you to a different realm. Your body sways among the masses, a tinge of alcohol probably clouding your judgement because on any other occasion you’d find dancing in public embarrassing—

When it’s time, when it’s time, when it’s time, it won’t matter

There’s a sense of complete euphoria that washes over you, and before you know it, a slender arm snakes around your waist. And despite your better judgement, you know who it is before you look over your shoulder.

It’s an eerily intimate thing, feeling the chill of the six eyes raking over you.

You’re sure Suguru must be the only other person to feel how it feels, the goosebumps that rise on your flesh, hair standing on end. But not in fear. In something else entirely—

“You’re so pretty.” Satoru whispers against the edge of your ear. He doesn’t sound drunk. At the very least he barely sounds tipsy, just a small slur of speech in between, and you look over your shoulder at him.

“Prettier than you?” You stop moving and let out a laugh, and he goes brainless. Crystalline orbs stare down at you, and he pulls your body flush against him, pressing his body into yours from behind.

“Don’t stop,” he mumbles and your body sways, resuming with the rhythm of the blaring music. A whisper of the lyrics leaves his mouth, and you nearly forget how he knows the song — must’ve been in one of Suguru’s playlists. One of those playlists he keeps.

“Satoru—” you’re about to scold him, maybe tell him this is a thin line, one you’ve been toeing for too long.

Satoru brings his other arm around your waist, both his hands meeting in accord atop the flesh of your stomach. He waits for a beat, waits for you to tell him no, but it never comes.

I’m on the edge of something breaking

His head dips to your height, his hair tickles the back of your neck. You can feel the heat from his lips on your skin as he hums along to the lyrics. “Just feel it for a little...” He whispers.

Even in his tipsy but not-so-tipsy state, he knows exactly what he's doing. You think, maybe he’s always known. At least in body but not in mind.

If I keep going I won’t make it

A sigh escapes your lips, something akin to a breath of relief, like a weight lifts off your shoulders.

Satoru’s body grinds forward onto you, and your head tilts back onto his chest, a mouthful of lyrics leaving your mouth in a gasp. “Feels good, yeah?” He grins down at you, pleased, his voice a bit off-key in a more Satoru-like fashion.

“Didn’t know you knew the song,” the words leave your lips as you both lock eyes. He rolls his eyes and sinks his teeth into the exposed flesh of your shoulder playfully.

“Suguru plays it all the time—” He replies, then continues to hum along with the song, his voice barely sounding like his own. “It’s too sexy to not know.”

There’s a sense of comfort in not knowing the depth of what you feel in this moment.

Satoru spins you around to face him, and the breath leaves your lungs. And the moment in between knowing what your relationship is and not knowing all but fades to black.

And with the way he looks into your eyes, and leans forward, you think he just might break the line two.

And it’s all because of you—

The song fades out, to a more upbeat one, and Satoru’s hands fall limp at his sides. Suddenly, you remember how to breathe. And you swallow the lump in your throat, all while he gives you the signature goofy grin you’ve come to cherish.

You turn your head to look across the mini crowd, and Shoko is still there, one arm slung around the redhead as they both knock back shots.

Temporary. It’s no big deal, you and Satoru were just tipsy.

But that sense of relief is short-lived.

Embarrassingly so.

“Boo.” A sharp exhale leaves your lips as soon as you turn your head, and instead of Satoru staring down at you, your view is blocked by Suguru.

You look at him like a lost child, and he rears his head away to laugh at you. “Don’t look so scared, name.” He smirks, slyly, like Suguru always does when he’s taunting.

“You dumbass—” You breathe, a hand colliding with the edge of his shoulder in a soft shove and Satoru can’t help but laugh at the sight before him.

Then, Suguru’s fingers wrap around your wrist, two, then four then he’s tugging you forward, straight into him and Satoru. “Don’t be so mean to me, you’ll break my heart.” He says it so condescendingly, with such a smile that makes your heart leap at your current predicament.

Satoru really wasn’t done. He just brought in reinforcements.

“As if—” You grumble, and the lights dim for a second before flashing a neon purple. And that’s all the time Satoru and Suguru need.

“—I have a heart?” Suguru towers over you, and he bends his knees just a little, resting his chin against your shoulder so you can hear him. “Or as if you could break it?”

You think Suguru’s been smoking. The warmth of his breath against your bare skin makes you shiver a little. You think you feel a little dizzy just from looking at him.

The way his eyes are downcast, eyelids heavy, like he’s bordering on the precipice of eternal sleep or the best dream he’s ever had, one he doesn't want to wake from.

He looks at you like you're the latter rather than the former.

Satoru swings his hand forward, interlocking his fingers with yours, pale slender digits finding purchase between yours as he moves to your side. “As if to both.” He rolls his eyes, and Suguru lets out a soft whistle, “You’re so cold, Satoru.”

The song playing begins to fade out, and Suguru takes advantage of the few seconds before the song switches, that small gap of silence, and he whispers, “Dance with us..?”

“Duh.” You grab ahold of Suguru’s hand with your free one, all while Satoru’s grip on your other hand tightens just a little. “Who else would I dance with?”

These things are no secret, never have been and never will be. And you have a funny feeling you know why your love life remains so stagnant.

How does the old age thing go? Never let your girl have a boy bestfriend. Or worse, two.

The three of you saunter to the middle of the dancefloor, the neon lights flashing shades of blue.

And if you didn’t know better, you’d say whoever the DJ is, they’ve got a sick sense of humor.

Because they manage to play the most romantically erotic song you could ever hear in a club setting. Ironically, a song you recognize from your playlist — no doubt you learned it from one of Suguru’s tracklists. A very extensive one titled with a leaf emoji.

I’m in love when we are smoking that—

Suguru’s arm moves to wrap around your waist from in front, and he tugs you close as the soft tempo reverberates through the room. He shrugs some of his hair off his shoulder, dark eyes finding yours and he doesn’t dare look away for a second.

Suguru must think you're a pipe dream. That you’ll disappear if he blinks.

Your bodies rock from side to side and Satoru doesn’t let go of your hand, instead he slides behind you, following the rhythm you and Suguru have set in tune, raising your intertwined hands to his lips, and for a moment he uses them as a makeshift microphone to sing—

La-la-la-la-la

Suguru grins and he presses his chin atop your head, his other arm coming around to hug you close to his chest, while Satoru meets you both halfway, and it’s really just a sandwich swaying side to side with you in the middle.

I’m in love when we are smoking that—

What initially started off as something so simple, you coming to a club with Shoko wanting to finally get laid since your best friends managed to scare all the guys off — has turned into something so soft, so intimate.

There are never many words, never much explanation when you’re with Satoru and Suguru.

And it’s clear none of the three of you know what this is or where you stand. But for now, that’s okay.

La-la-la-la-la

“You okay?” Suguru dips his head to mumble into your ear, and you nod, words failing you.

In truth, you’ve never felt so soft, so safe yet so… vulnerable. But that’s also okay.

Satoru cranes his neck and leans his body over yours to look between you and Suguru, having not heard a thing. “You two okay?”

And you laugh. Suguru does too.

Suguru’s arms around you keeps you grounded against him, and Satoru’s weight against your back keeps you firm between them. “If you need us to stop… if you need a drink I can—” Suguru tries, but you cut him off with a soft pat to his shoulder.

“Don’t stop,” you mimic Satoru’s words from earlier as your own into Suguru’s chest and he melts. “Yeah?” He whispers.

“Yeah.” You affirm, and he nods, his chin going back to rest atop your head. And you wrap a free arm around Suguru’s middle, the other still softly interlaced with Satoru’s at your side. “M’ happy here.”

“In the club?” Suguru asks, albeit a little louder so you can hear him an amused smile slipping onto his features. “No, just—” Your words fail you. But this, there can’t be any intent without feeling, true unbiased feeling.

And you feel it, coursing through you in soft waves for them.

That unbiased wavy feeling, almost like you’re floating. That feeling for them. Though you don’t quite know what to call it yet.

“Here,” you mumble and a smile stretches onto your face. “With you, and Satoru too.”

Suguru stops swaying a bit, and at the change in movement Satoru stops too, peering over your shoulder to see what’s happening.

But Suguru only grins a little. “I’m happy too,” he says. Then he glances at Satoru, and Satoru glances to you. “I guess if you two are so happy, then me too.” Satoru chuckles.

[hoshigray]

https://www.tumblr.com/hoshigray/725915919672573952/sit-down-for-this-one-alright-how-bout-a-gigolo

your fic with toji i love it sm 🫶🫶🫶 BUT how would he react if reader tried someone elses services cs her friends told her to try it out…

noonie, you're so real for this bc damn, why the hell didn't i think of that :OOO lol hope you like this, hon~~ spin-off of this → ☆;

cw: gigolo! Toji x fem! reader - smut so minors DNI - dumbification - toji being jealous/possessive bc duh - cunnilingus (f! receiving) - clitoral play (biting/grazing + pinching) - degradation (toji calling you a whore and slut) - scratching (f! receiving) - impact play; pussy slaps - prone bone + full nelson position - pet names (baby, mama, princess) - new playboy may or may not be Gojo *shrugs* ;) - just Toji fucking you dumb, lol - mention of drool and tears. wc: 1.6k

What should've happened today was Toji enjoying a night to himself because tonight he's seeing a client he hadn't seen in a long while. Nothing wrong with spending an afternoon with an old acquaintance, specifically when it entails a good night of getting his dick wet for a thick sum of cash. Besides, he planned on seeing you afterward — his little sweet thing — stopping by your place and spending the night.

It's funny, isn't it? He met you because of this little hustle of his, and here he is fawning over you like some dumb schoolboy. It makes him feel a bit of a wimp, catching feelings for a customer? That's rookie moves. But he couldn't care less; long as he gets to see your darling smile and fuck the ever-loving shit out of you once per week, all is good in the books.

Seeing and swooping you off your feet later tonight is what was supposed to happen. That's all he was thinking about exiting the hotel room after his client left and paid for his services as promised. So, why the hell were you the first person he saw out of the room? Your face utterly petrified when you turn to see him with another man's arm dropped over your shoulders. A familiar man — another playboy who seemed elated to be around with you. Toji could assume the worst from what he was seeing. Oh, hell no.

What happened today was meant to be kept between two people — you and this new playboy. It came out of fucking nowhere when your friends crowding you about this "new guy in town," elucidating how handsome and pretty the guy is and how great he was in bed ("I'm telling you, Y/n, you really outta try him out!" "No, for real though. Like, here's a pic of him we took right after he ate me out! Don't you think he has the most gorgeous eyes~?"). You had to admit the young man was charming, but that didn't necessarily mean you wanted to do anything explicit with him. So, why did your friends schedule a night with him for you!?? Still puzzled over the fact, you can't seem to answer.

Regardless, you did have sex with another guy today — another Gioglo at that. It wasn't anything serious between you two, just casual sex for money. Plus, it was a pleasure to hang out with him, as the guy seemed fun to be around! Even with his dark shades on, the brightest thing was his dashing smile. However, a deep part of yourself felt guilt over the charade because you haven't had services with anyone else other than Toji. Sure, you and the older man aren't in a labeled relationship outside of an escort and his client. But still, he's the only man you've been intimate with. He's the only one who knows your body more than you, what you like, and how to turn you on. You were his favorite after all.

To be in the hold of another man just felt wrong...That's why your eyes go wider than golf balls when you unexpectedly bump into him when leaving your hotel room with your new one-night stand. Oh, fucking shit...

It all happened relatively quick. One moment, Toji snatches your wrist and pulls you off the young playboy, having you follow his storming march to the hotel room he just left. The next moment, you're gasping for dear life with Toji propping you against a wall, his head buried between your legs dangled on his shoulders, and his mouth ravishing your soaked folds.

"Ahhh!!Ahhhh!! Toji, too fast, please st—Ohooo!!!"

"Shut the fuck up," he says coldly, giving your clitoris a light bite before giving it a slow lick. You jerk and shiver at the tease. "Stay still, or I'm droppin' ya."

Toji smacks on your chasm, a scream leaving your lips, and you just know the others next door heard. And a pinch to your clit results in incoherent babbles, drool pooling in your mouth drips down your chin.

It doesn't stop there. All your clothes discarded to the floor, he has you pinned on the bed by your shoulders, your legs trapped between his, and his pelvis hammering down on you. Forced wails erupt from your throat with every hash rut to the ass, your slit clamping onto him with every graze to your sweet spots. You grip the sheets from his vigorous pace, tears coursing down your hot face and staining the cream cotton pillowcase.

"...Ahhhaaa!!Nnmmph!! Ohhhhfuckingshiiiiit!!" It isn't the first you've had Toji drill his cock into you with a harsh cadence. Yet, with how each fierce and snappy thrust turns your mind to mush, being pinned to the mattress as your breath gets snatched away, you knew long before that what Toji was doing to you was different than all the other times you've had sex. A lot more aggressive — a lot more deadly.

And the older man doesn't falter at all, nope. If anything, your cries only fuel his drive even more, a grin lifting his scar on the right of his lip. "Hmm, what's wrong, baby? Not fast 'nough for ya?" You open your mouth, but your words are comprised of euphoric wails. Ticked, Toji smacks your ass, and a yelp escapes your sore body. He comes down to your ear while grinding his hips on your ass, choked shrieks are muffled by the pillow. "Hey, I'm talkin'. Hmm? You thinkin' bout that other fucker's dick inside ya, huh? He fuck ya real hard like this?"

"N-Nmmm....Noooo, I—OhhhhJesusssss...."

"You what?" A sharp thrust to your chasm prompts you to howl and your eyes roll back, too fucked out of your mind to know how loud you are. "Heh, y're lookin' real stupid right now. I bet you can't think a fuckin' thing with my dick in—Mmmm! fuck....Grippin' on me hard, actin' like a real whore, princess." More abrupts hits to your ass as his nails dig to your bare shoulders; the pain coincide with the pleasure you're experiencing has you seeing stars.

He fucks you like this for what feels like an hour, your ass and pussy hot from the constant contact of his pelvis and balls smacking deep into you. The feeling of his dick being practically the only thing rotting your mind.

But you don't get rest just yet, though. Towards the end, the sun is completely down, the city lights are displayed from the hotel window, and your ecstatic moans still fill the room. Your back is to his chest, your legs pulled back to your chest by his arms and forcing you in a headlock, while his intense ruts return and his cock churns your spongey insides. Here is where you've given up restraining yourself, letting Toji use your body as his plaything, tears and drool painting your face into a gorgeous mess.

"....Ohhoooo, Ahhhoooo—Hmmmm," your brain is too long gone to think proper sentences, your mouth sprouting out nonsense. It all humors the man beneath you, his gruff chuckles vibrating your back balanced on his chest. "Soooo deeep — sosodeeeep..."

"Feelin' good there, mama?" You only respond with a euphoric hum, another snicker from the older man. "Too fucked outta're mind to answer me. Lettin' another man touch this pussy; you take dick from everybody, huh. What a fuckin' slut..." He pushes his length upward to your hole. Come leaking from you, and a white ring around the base of his dick is evidence of your session. "Hnngh! But I made ya like that..."

"....Fuuuuck, Tojiiiii, don't stooop!!" You cry out to him with gritted teeth, your haze only worsening with his cock brushing up on your G- spot precisely. "Ohhhhhh, right there, right thereeee!!"

"Mmmph—Ohhhh shit," the way your cunt contracts around him almost makes him give in to another orgasm, biting on your shoulder to compose himself. "....Shit, shit, shit, so fuckin' tight, baby...."

The hot air and thick musk of your buddies get to your head, your head ringing and pounding. Screams grow higher with every stroke, and the cold shivers crawl up your spine. It's almost here. "Toji, Tojiii, I'm gonna cumm—hic—sooocloseee!!"

Toji sneers once more. "Yeah, you are. Cumming is all y'r pretty, dumb brain can think about." And with that, his pace increases speed, drilling your walls with his veiny girth. It all electrifies your nerves, your breathing off the rails, and your climax slapping you hard with the deep thrusts he gives you.

With a cloudy mind and a mindless smile, your slit flutters on Toji's length beautifully. Too enraptured with the blissful sensation to worry about the spit streaming down your puffy lips. And it doesn't take long for Toji to be under the same spell as you, his rhythm falling back with the spill of his load inside you. His brows trenched while pumping into you, his balls pulsing with your velvet walls.

Heaving bodies soon fall into a tranquil state, your breathing finding its way into a steady flow. Finally, Toji permits your body and mind to relax from his relentless hold, releasing your body from the full nelson and gently sliding your tired body next to his.

He wipes the saliva from your mouth with the back of his hand, his hooded jade eyes never leaving your fatigued ones. "Hehe, sorry 'bout that, baby. You just feel too good to share."

You purr into his touch, his hand cupping your cheek. "Too good that you'd break my ass?" He barks an exhausted laugh at your remark, a tired giggle fleeing your lips.

"For you, I'd break anyone else that thinks they can have you." Toji kisses your temple.

"And my ass?"

"...Only if I'm the one breakin' it." You playfully hit his abs, and another laugh leaves the older man before you two sleep in each other's warmth.

want more like this? plz send me more thirsts ♡

[snowbellewells]

@whimsicallyenchantedrose Oh my goodness! Alice and Henry are being so adorably sneaky - I was practically giggling along with them as they reported back to each other. Still, they have their parents’s best interests at heart. And we all know Emma and Killian really will be happy enough with each other in the end that I’m sure they’ll forgive the “parent trapping”. 😂🤣

I loved their decision to buy the book 50-50 and discuss possession elsewhere so Leroy didn’t cart them out of the bookstore! Their conversation over coffee and hot chocolate was true perfection. I am really adoring this one!! 😍😍😍

Thanksgiving Reruns--Day 4: Black Friday (2/3)

Title: Black Friday—Chapter 2 of 3

Rating: G

Words: 1713

Summary: CS as single parents AU. As the holidays approach, Emma’s son Henry and Killian’s daughter Alice ask for a specific storybook which will ONLY be available for purchase on Black Friday.

 Other chapters: 1 2 3 5

 Black Friday—Chapter 2

“Um excuse me,” Emma said with a frown, “this book is mine.”

The person standing before her didn’t relinquish the book in question, and Emma glanced up at him…and then promptly wished she hadn’t.  This guy was hot.  Like middle-of-summer in Phoenix hot.  Like compared-to-him-the-sun-was-kind-of-warm hot.  No one had a right to look that damn good this early in the morning.  She should just arrest him and haul him off to jail for that alone.

Very much against her will, her heart swooped and her breath caught at his very proximity.  She saw the exact moment he noticed her reaction.  A sly, maddening, delighted (sexy) grin came over his face.  Emma frowned thunderously up at him, as angry with herself at her reaction as she was at him for his…well, his very existence.

“Much as I hate to contradict a lady,” he drawled (Oh gods, even his voice and accent were hot.  She was in serious, serious trouble), “I believe this book, in fact belongs to me.  I was here first.”

Her frown deepened.  “I don’t think so.  Give me my item before I punch you in the face.”

He chuckled, leaning forward and crowding her space. (Her stupid, traiterous heart picked up yet again.)  “Oh Darling, I can think of some far, far more pleasant ways we can spar than a bout of fisticuffs.”

Was it suddenly hot in here?  

“Look, I don’t have time for this,” she said with a sigh, her voice beginning to raise.  “Just stop being a jackass and give me the book.”

Suddenly a small man with a brown beard, a grumpy look on his face, and a hat that read “security” stepped forward.  “There a problem here folks?”

“None I can’t handle,” Emma gritted out.  “Soon as this guy admits I got here first and gives me my merchandise I’ll get out of your hair.”

“On the contrary,” the man said.  “I was the first one to claim this particular prize.”

The security guard, who wore the name tag “Leroy”, glanced back and forth between the two of them for a moment, and then shrugged.  “Look, I won’t have any fighting in this store.  Work it out among yourselves, or I’m kicking you both out.  Then neither one of you gets the stupid book.”

For a moment Emma merely glared at the man, and he looked back at her, a look of steely determination on his face.  Finally he sighed.

“Look, love, the security guard’s right,” he said. “While quite enjoyable, our standoff will get us nowhere.”

Was the (hot as hell) guy going to actually be reasonable and give in?

“So here’s what I propose,” he said.  “We purchase the book and then adjourn elsewhere to discuss the particulars of whose prize it will be.  Perhaps you’ll allow me to buy you a cup of coffee at Granny’s?”

She crossed her arms across her chest.  “Are you seriously asking me out right now?”

He chuckled, and the sound did things to her, things that brought the color to her cheeks and stole her breath clean from her lungs.  He leaned even closer, so close she could feel his minty-fresh breath against her cheek.  “Sadly no.  I was merely proposing a parlay of sorts, a chance for us to settle our differences like adults.  However, if you’re hoping for a romantic evening out on another occasion, I could certainly accommodate you.”

“In your dreams!”

He wiggled his eyebrows.  Actually wiggled them!  “Perhaps.”

Emma growled.  “Are you kidding me right now?  It’s too early for this!”

He seemed to sense he’d pushed her as far as was prudent, and he sighed.  “I vow to be the perfect gentleman.  IIf we at least secure the item, we can then decide later who is the victor.”

She gave him a quick look and could see the sincerity in his eyes.  She was good at spotting when someone was lying, after all.  Finally she sighed.  “Fine.  But we both buy it–split the cost fifty-fifty.  That way neither one of us can claim ownership of the book before we get everything ironed out.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Here you are folks,” the perky brunette waitress said half an hour later.  “One black coffee and one hot cocoa with cinnamon.

Killian heard the waitress lean whisper “Emma, he’s hot” to the woman on the other side of the booth.

She growled and whispered “Ruby, shut it!” back.

He chuckled.  This was turning into one of the most delightful mornings he’d had in ages.  When the waitress had flitted over to another set of customers, Killian leaned back and grinned at his companion.  “She’s right, you know,” he said.  ‘I have been called devilishly handsome.”

“I’ll give you the devilish part,” she said with a wry quirk of her brow.  “Look…what did you say your name was?”

“Did I fail to introduce myself?  How very rude of me.  Killian Jones, at your service,” he said with a bow.  Her cheeks colored alluringly at his formality, and Killian was delighted at her reaction to him.

She was utterly captivating, and the truth was, he hadn’t been so quickly, completely and charmingly smitten with anyone since Milah.  Though he very much wanted to attain the fairy tale book for his Alice, he couldn’t say he regretted the complications this morning had brought.

He didn’t know what possessed him to ask this woman to coffee.  All he knew as they stood facing off in the bookstore was that he did not want their time together to be at an end anytime soon.

“Emma Swan,” she muttered.

A fit of pure devilishness came over him, and he reached over, took her hand and brought it to her lips.  “Enchanted.” he whispered.

Her quick, indrawn breath made his grin widen, and she quickly pulled her hand back and busied herself with taking a sip of her beverage.

“So, Killian Jones,” she said, her voice not quite steady, “what are we going to do about this book?  I don’t mean to be a jerk about it, but I really need this book.  My son…well, this is the only thing he’s asked for, and it’s been a rough year for him.  I just…I just want to be able to give him this one thing so maybe I don’t feel like such a failure as a parent.”

His heart turned over.  He could tell she’d said more than she’d intended.  Emma Swan didn’t strike him as someone who let her walls down quickly or shared her feelings of inadequacy with strangers.

“As a single parent myself, I can relate to the feelings, love,” he said, “but I’ve no doubt book or no book, you’re hardly a failure as a parent.”

“Yeah, well,” she said, glancing uncomfortably aside.  “I feel like it.”

Killian was silent for a long moment, taking a sip of his coffee.  If it weren’t for Alice, he’d give up his claim on the book in a moment, but it was for Alice.  Was there any way they could both get what they wanted?

“I don’t wish to be intransigent either,” he said finally, “and my behavior today is not a matter of mere stubbornness.  My daughter also has her heart set on this particular book.”

Her eyes softened at his statement, acknowledging their dueling claims as parents wanting the best for their respective children.  “Yeah, I get it, so that brings me back to my original question.  How do we decide who gets the book?”

Suddenly an idea struck him.  It was unorthodox to say the least, unorthodox to the point of being downright bizarre, but it did have it’s merits–namely the fact that, should she agree to it, they’d be forced to see each other again on a fairly regular basis.

“I do have an idea,” he said slowly, “but it may sound positively daft.”

She gave him an assessing look, taking another dainty sip of her cocoa.  “Okay, I’m listening.”

“What if we share the book?” he blurted out.

“Share it?  What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he said, “what if we trade off?  Your lad gets the book one week, and then my Alice gets it the next, and so on.”

Her brow furrowed.  “You mean like…joint custody…of a book.”

He shrugged with a grin.  “I told you it would sound daft.”

Killian was encouraged by the fact that Emma didn’t outright shoot down his (odd) idea.  She seemed to consider it, staring into space for several moments, before briefly nodding.  “It is a weird solution, but I think it might be the best way we can both get what we want.  Can’t believe I’m saying this, but you have a deal.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

"It worked!" Henry said excitedly he following Monday morning as he got off the school bus and sprinted over to Alice.  "My mom told me all about it.  Your dad and my mom decided to share the storybook!"

"I know!" Alice said, smile wide and delighted.  "My papa explained the situation to me.  I could tell he felt bad that he didn't get the book, and I wanted to make him feel better, but then I thought maybe it would be better to act kinda disappointed."

"Good thinking," Henry said with a nod as they reached their classroom and headed for their desks.  "If they feel guilty, then they'll make sure to always make the drop off, and then they'll have to meet every week.  We'll be brother and sister by Easter!"

"I hope you're right," Alice said with a sigh.  "I know my papa gets lonely sometimes, and it would be nice if he had someone besides me in his life."

"Exactly," Henry agreed. "And my mom needs to know that not every guy's like my dad.  Not every guy's gonna leave her.

Henry busied himself setting his backpack on the floor and getting out his books and then he looked back at Alice with a troubled look.  "You don't think they'll be mad at us, do you?  You know, for being sneaky and everything."

Alice shook her head vehemently.  "They'll be too happy together for that.  Sometimes adults are just too busy to see what's right in front of them.  That's when their kids have to step in and parent trap them."

Next Chapter-->

[callsign-mayhem]

i'm with the band (part 2)

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Female!Reader & Bradley Bradshaw x Female!Reader (final pairing to be revealed at the end...) Word count: 5.1k CW: Use of Y/N; reader wears Dr Martens, but that's the only specific detail.

You discover that your best friend Bob can play the drums, and since you have some musical gifts of your own, you decide to start a navy band. It's supposed to be a bit of harmless fun, but what happens when lines get blurred between you and Bob, feelings come to the surface, and a certain Rooster gets jealous?

This is a multi-part fic.

Find part one here!

The Hard Deck was bustling like it always was on a Saturday night. Bradley was the last of the daggers to arrive, so he headed straight to the bar to get caught up. When he was eventually next in line to be served, he was more than a little surprised to see Maverick behind the bar.

‘What’re you doing, Mav?’ He asked.

Maverick handed two pints of beer to a young aviator, flashed him a million-dollar smile and then turned on Bradley. ‘Helping Penny,’ he replied. ‘One of her girls called in sick.’

Bradley’s lips quirked. ‘Does this mean I get free beers all night?’

Penny suddenly appeared beside him, a tray of empty glasses in hand. 

‘No, Rooster, it doesn’t. And if Pete wants to keep his balls attached to his body, he’ll agree with me.’

‘Remind me never to get on your bad side.’ Bradley grumbled.

‘There’s a beer in the tap for you, anyway,’ Maverick explained. ‘From Y/CS.’

‘What?’

‘Three beers, actually. She paid for them when she got here, something about getting you back for the sex on the beach.’ Maverick grinned, seemingly pleased that he’d successfully embarrassed his son for all intents and purposes. ‘Hope you used protection.’ 

‘Oh god, Mav. Stop. That’s not what she meant.’

‘I know what she meant,’ he said, pouring Bradley’s beer. ‘She’s drunk already. Phoenix too.’ 

Bradley’s stomach somersaulted. He’d seen you drunk a handful of times, and he was obsessed with the way it made you more confident. 

‘Yeah, that’s my fault.’ 

‘Keep an eye on them, alright?’

‘Always do.’ Bradley saluted him and headed towards your space in the corner. 

Somebody had the good sense to push three high tables together. Much to Bradley’s annoyance, Bob and Mickey had already taken the seats on either side of you. Nat was sitting opposite you like she had at the restaurant, so she saw Bradley before you did. 

‘ROOSTER’S HERE!’ She yelled.

You spun around so fast that you almost slid off your stool. Before Bradley could steady you, Bob was already there with his hand on your arm. 

‘ROOOOOOOOOOO!’ You cried. ‘Did Mav tell you about your drinks?’ 

You weren’t drunk to the point of heavy eyes and slurred speech, but you were the furthest from sober next to Nat. The last empty seat was right at the edge of the tables, next to Jake. Bradley didn’t feel like chatting to him all night, so he picked the stool up and put it at the head of the table by you and Natasha. 

‘Yes, he did. You shouldn’t have, doll.’ 

You practically swooned at the pet name, a reaction Bradley filed away for later. He wondered how else he could make you swoon. 

‘What did I miss?’ He asked, settling himself on his stool.

‘Me and Y/CS duetting Limp Bizkit in Bob’s truck,’ Nat informed him. ‘It was something to behold, really.’ 

‘Penny should start doing karaoke nights,’ you said. ‘Imagine the fun we’d have.’

‘Nobody would want to do karaoke with you, Y/N.’ Bob said. He had two Corona Extra bottles in front of him and a full one in hand. Bradley supposed that you weren’t the only one who needed a bit of Dutch courage tonight. ‘You’d smoke every single one of us with that voice of yours.’ 

You blushed deeply. Mickey and Natasha shared a knowing look, all but confirming Bradley’s suspicions. 

‘He’s not wrong,’ Bradley chimed in. ‘We should get behind the piano later.’

So maybe he was swinging his dick around. Either way, the way your eyes widened at his suggestion was worth feeling like a dick for a couple of seconds.

‘Really?’ 

‘Yeah, it’s been a minute.’ 

‘I’d love that, Roo.’

Nat jumped down from her stool. ‘Let’s get another drink, Y/N. I think Penny wants to talk to us about that thing.’

‘She does? What thing?’

‘The thing,’ Mickey interjected. ‘You know, the surprise for Mav.’

One second, two, three. Then realisation suddenly dawned on you, and you disappeared with

Mickey and Natasha, out of Bradley’s grasp yet again. 

What he wouldn’t give to be a fly on the wall during that conversation. 

Natasha led you through the swarm of people around the bar and out to the decking. Part of it was undercover, which is where you stood to keep out of the rain. Clusters of people were huddled underneath the shelter, smoking cigarettes and sharing drinks. Mickey had followed you out, which you found highly amusing. 

‘You’re not one of the girls.’ You toyed, poking him in the chest. 

‘I am tonight. I know what’s going on, and I wanna be involved.’

Nat rolled her eyes so hard they disappeared into the back of her head. ‘You’re such a child, Fanboy.’

‘Oh, let him stay. Maybe it’d help to get a guy’s perspective. He texted me at the restaurant to tell me Rooster was looking at my tits.’

Natasha scowled. ‘Don’t let me hear you say tits, Fanboy. It doesn’t suit you.’

You and Mickey both howled with laughter. ‘That’s exactly what I said!’ 

‘We’re getting off track here,’ Phoenix said, flapping her hands. ‘Pay attention.’

Mickey nodded, face grave. ‘Attention on deck.’ 

‘First of all,’ she started, ignoring his pun. ‘Bradley was looking at your tits. Let’s get that out of the way. Second of all, Bob was also looking at them.’

‘Well, he was trying not to, which made it obvious that that’s where he wanted to look.’ Mickey corrected. 

‘Right.’ Nat agreed.

Heat pooled in the bottom of your tummy. ‘What am I supposed to do with this information?’

  ‘You gotta make a decision.’

‘What if I don’t want to be with anyone right now?’

‘Don’t you?’

It sounded even more stupid out loud. Of course, you wanted to be with someone, but how were you supposed to pick out of the two most incredible guys in the whole world?

‘Why do I have to make a decision now?’

‘Cause they aren’t gonna wait around forever.’ Natasha told you. 

‘Bob might.’ Mickey said, earning him a smack around the back of the head. ‘What the fuck was that for?’

‘Bob has just as much chance of finding someone else as Bradley,’ Natasha chided. ‘Don’t talk down about him.’

‘Right, sorry.’ 

‘Me and Bob are starting a band,’ you blurted out. ‘We’ve been getting close lately, practising and stuff. A few navy guys are coming to his place next week to audition.’ 

‘Oh boy,’ Mickey grinned. ‘You’re starting a navy band and didn’t ask Rooster to join?’

‘His name didn’t even come up,’ you admitted. ‘I doubt he’d wanna be part of it anyway. He’ll probably say it’s lame.’

Nat tucked a loose curl behind your ear. ‘If you think that, you don’t know him at all. He lives and breathes music, and he won’t think it’s lame if you and Bob are there.’

‘If she’s there, you mean.’

Nat raised her hand, and Mickey flinched. ‘I swear to God, your honorary girl membership isn’t gonna mean shit if you say one more word.’

‘Damn.’

‘We should go back inside.’ You said. 

‘Tomorrow, we’re gonna talk about this. Once we’ve dropped Bob off at his truck. You’re not gonna keep getting out of it.’ 

‘Breakfast? What breakfast? Can I come?’ 

‘Fanboy, for fuck’s sake.’ 

Bob was arguing with you over the songs in the jukebox again. A fuzzy feeling had overtaken his body, filling the empty spaces with warmth and giving him confidence he’d never known until now. Sure, he’d been drunk before—well, drunk by his definition—but this was something else entirely. He’d come to the conclusion that even though he was enjoying himself immensely, it wasn’t something he wanted to feel on the regular. He didn’t understand how people did this every weekend. 

‘If you had to pick one song in this jukebox to listen to for the rest of time, what would you pick?’ You asked, leaning against the machine.

Bob scanned the song titles that were becoming so familiar to him that he’d probably be able to recite them in his sleep soon enough. 

‘That’s an impossible question.’ 

You smiled lazily. ‘Come on, Bobby.’

‘You’re expecting me to pick one when there’s The Clash, Bon Jovi, Bruce Springsteen and AC/DC in this jukebox.’ 

‘And Billy Idol. You can’t forget Billy.’ 

‘Exactly my point.’ 

You leaned over to reread the song’s titles. Bob admired the way your hair slipped over your shoulder, brushing the hand he was using to steady himself against the jukebox. You were closer to him now than at the restaurant earlier, and he wished he could bottle your scent and carry it around with him all day. He was obsessed with your perfect, glossed lips and the idea of kissing them. 

His small crush on you wasn’t small right now, and being intoxicated made it harder for him to stop himself from doing something about it. You reached out and pressed the number for Dancing In The Dark before taking his hand in yours—a small feat, maybe, but not to him. Your hand was soft and warm, and he wanted to feel it on his face again, like in his truck. 

‘Where are we going?’ He questioned. 

‘To dance.’ 

‘I can’t dance, Y/N. You know that.’ 

‘Everyone can dance when they’re drunk,’ you reassured him. ‘Just don’t overthink it.’

It was easier said than done, but with your hand in his, his newfound confidence grew three sizes until it was almost too big for his body. You two were something straight out of a movie just then, dancing in a small space you’d found in the middle of the bar, singing along to the lyrics at the same time. 

He respectfully rested a hand on your waist, and you put the hand that wasn’t holding his other one on his shoulder, so you were like ballroom dancers. You sure looked the part, being too overdressed for The Hard Deck; the only thing missing was an actual ability to dance, but you were both too happy to care. Little did you know that Natasha was filming the whole thing on her phone and taking pictures now and then. 

When the song ended, you both waited to see what would play next, but nothing did. Instead, Bob was brought harshly back to reality, to the sounds of glasses clinking and loud chatter. That’s when it dawned on him that the jukebox had been unplugged. Once people realised what was happening, they moved to the piano on the other side of the bar from where you and Bob had been dancing. He hadn’t even noticed Bradley leaving the table to unplug the jukebox or take his seat at the piano because he’d been too wrapped up in your energy, your touch, and the sound of your voice. 

He wasn’t happy to have been interrupted by Rooster yet again, but the idea of hearing you sing properly—not just under your breath while dancing—was highly alluring. 

‘I think it’s piano time.’ You grinned. 

Still holding tightly onto his hand, you weaved your way through the massive crowd to the rest of the daggers, all of whom were at the front, waiting for their friends’ performance. When Bradley saw you, his face broke out into a toothy grin. He’d donned his aviators as per usual, and he watched you walk over to him over top of them like it was just you in the room. 

Bob couldn’t exactly blame him. Most of the time, you were the only person in the room for him, too. 

When Bradley patted the spot on the bench, you hurried yourself, clearly excited to perform. The alcohol was probably helping, as he’d yet to convince you to get behind the instrument sober. 

Bob moved to stand between Natasha and Reuben. 

‘Been having fun?’ Nat quipped. 

‘I was.’

‘Is that a little jealousy I hear in your tone, Floyd?’ 

Reuben nudged him playfully. ‘Come on, man. Phoenix didn’t raise you to sit on the sidelines. If you like Y/CS, don’t just sit around and watch someone else sweep her off her feet.’ 

Keys tinkled as Bradley got reacquainted with the piano. He looked to you earnestly, silently asking if you were ready. In response, you nodded and offered him an anxious but excited smile. 

Bob recognised the song immediately. 

Bradley sang the first verse, and you sang the second. Where his was husky and deliciously rough around the edges, yours was full and velvety. 

Slow down, you crazy child You're so ambitious for a juvenile But then, if you're so smart, tell me Why are you still so afraid?

Where's the fire, what's the hurry about? You better cool it off before you burn it out You got so much to do, and only So many hours in a day

When the chorus came around, both you and Bradley sang together. Paired with his expert piano playing, it was the most beautiful cacophony. Your voices welded together like precious metals, and the result was priceless. 

But you know that when the truth is told That you can get what you want Or you can just get old You're gonna kick off before you even get halfway through  When will you realise, Vienna waits for you?

You were bouncing off one another. When Bradley sang louder, you sang louder. When Bradley’s voice deepened, it made yours sound more angelic. When you held a particularly long and high note towards the end of the song, Bradley stopped singing altogether to give you and your voice a very deserving moment in the spotlight. Everyone around the piano was singing along, even Bob. He was helpless to stop the urge. Bradley’s stage presence was infectious, even when you weren’t performing with him, but there was something about you singing Billy Joel that made it virtually impossible not to join in. It wasn’t just the song or the fact that you were singing it, but the apparent joy that performing brought you and Bradley. Someone would have to be deaf and blind not to notice it. 

Bob was half considering asking Bradley to join the band. He was talented, and Bob could see that he’d be an asset, what with how much you loved singing with him. 

But that was also the problem, wasn’t it? 

He hadn’t even wanted to be in the band, but now he was protective of the whole idea. He didn’t want band practice to become another place where he competed for your attention and affection. 

Bradley managed an expert transition from Vienna straight into his usual crowd-pleaser, Great Balls of Fire. Bob had no idea how he’d managed it, but he had, and the crowd roared with delight. Mickey and Javy—who had somehow overtaken you and Nat and currently held the position of the drunkest daggers—were jumping around like maniacs. Bob, Nat, Jake and Reuben were laughing amongst themselves, totally distracted by their shenanigans. 

As a result, Bob missed the smouldering look that you and Bradley shared, the way you reached up and stole his aviators with a wink, all while never missing a word of the song. He was singing at you, and you were singing at him. Now, not only were you the only ones in The Hard Deck, but you were also the only ones left on planet Earth. 

It was gone 1 AM when the cab pulled up in front of your home. Stars twinkled in the night sky—looking much like your dress—and your front garden was bathed in moonlight. It had been a night for the ages, but as brilliant of a time you’d had, you were looking forward to taking off your boots and putting your pyjamas on. 

Natasha seemed to share your sentiment—she’d taken her shoes off in the cab and walked up your front path in her socks, trainers swinging absentmindedly from her hand. You were glad she was spending the night because you felt you needed an entire debrief after the evening’s events. 

Bob’s presence was perhaps more exciting than the prospect of gossiping and making breakfast with Nat. He was drunker than you’d ever seen him, humming to himself as he led you to your front door. He held your arm to keep you steady, and the contact felt out of this world. 

‘Bobbyyyy—’ you slurred. ‘Please, can you get my house key out of my bag? I don’t think I have any base brain functions.’

He laughed, taking your bag off your shoulder to find your house key. ‘I knew I should’ve stopped Seresin when he started ordering shots.’

‘Nah. That might have been the best idea he’s ever had.’

‘I think we’re gonna have to agree to disagree on this one.’

You and Bob were standing on your porch with the front door open. He gestured to Natasha, who was doubled over next to your rosebushes. 

‘Example A.’ He smirked.

You facepalmed. ‘Not the fucking roses, Nix!’ 

She heaved once, twice, then promptly threw up. You started down the steps, but Bob reached out and grabbed your arm again. 

‘You can’t even stand up straight,’ he said. ‘Go inside, I’ll get her.’ 

‘Yes, sir.’ 

You stumbled through to the kitchen, turning lights on as you went. The air in your house still smelled like the autumn candle you’d been burning earlier and clean laundry. At heart, you were a homebody. Nothing was more satisfying than returning to a clean, organised space, cooking a meal and watching a movie tucked under blankets after a long day. It was rare for you to enjoy a night out like this, to be the one begging everyone to stay for one more drink. The atmosphere had been charged tonight, especially at The Hard Deck. When you’d performed ‘Vienna’ with Bradley, it had been like touching a live wire. The current still reverberated through your body, and your body ached from unused energy. 

In the time it took Bob to get Natasha inside, you poured three glasses of water, added some ice, and nearly tripped over your own feet. She looked a bit worse for wear, but it was nothing that some aspirin and long rest wouldn’t fix. 

‘I think you two should get upstairs to bed.’ Bob said sternly.

‘Okay, dad.’ Nat sniggered. ‘You gonna tuck us in?’

‘Well, I just held your hair back while you threw up, so we’ve already crossed a line.’

‘Girls do that for each other all the time,’ you said. ‘It’s normal.’

‘But I’m not a girl.’

Nat wagged an accusing finger at him. ‘You know what, if Fanboy was here, he’d have appreciated that. He loves being one of the girls.’

‘So true,’ you murmured in agreement. ‘Bob, you’re being ungrateful.’

‘For what?’

‘Your hon-honourary girl membership.’ You said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

‘Alright, let’s go. Get your waters.’ 

Both of you did as you were told but weren’t happy about it. You headed towards the staircase, Bob following close behind. He turned lights off as he went, ever thoughtful. 

Upstairs, Nat collapsed face-first onto your bed. You rummaged through your chest of drawers for three sets of pyjamas while Bob switched your lamps on and closed your blinds. 

‘Bobby, are you okay with one of my oversized band tees?’ You asked.

When he didn’t answer, you spun around. He was perched on the edge of your bed, the photo frame you kept on your side in his hand. He was cradling it like it was worth a million dollars, eyes misty and far away. It was a photograph of you and him on the carrier after the special detachment mission when everyone had gone out to meet Maverick and Rooster. There seemed always to be people taking pictures in moments like those, and when you’d seen this one, you had to frame it. You and Bob were standing facing one another, faces bright with triumph and relief. He cradled your tear-streaked face in his hands, and you were both laughing in disbelief that you were together again. 

‘You keep this next to your bed?’ He whispered. 

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you said: ‘Of course I do.’

‘Why?’

‘Because you’re my best friend, and I like it being the first thing I see when I wake up in the mornings.’ 

Bob set the photo down gently. He seemed to be having a hard time breathing. ‘One of your T-shirts will be fine, thanks.’ 

Natasha sat up, rubbing her head. ‘You guys are so cute,’ she said. ‘Do you want me to sleep in the guest room?’ 

Your eyes flew to Bob. He was playing with his hands, clearly still stuck on the photograph. 

‘No, Nix. You should sleep in here with me in case you choke on your vomit.’ You threw a pair of Spongebob pyjamas at her. ‘Go put those on.’ 

‘Both of you are so bossy.’ She grumbled. ‘You’re perfect for each other.’

She padded across your bedroom floor and out into the hallway. Once you heard the bathroom door close, you sat next to Bob on the edge of the bed.

‘It’s a Radiohead t-shirt.’ You informed him. ‘I don’t think any of my pyjama pants will be long enough for you.’ 

He took the shirt and set it on your pillow, ignoring the unsaid words that hung in the air like rain clouds. It was all you could do to sit still when Bob took his glasses off and ran his fingers through his sandy hair. 

‘Thank you for letting me stay,’ he said quietly. ‘And for the shirt.’

You looked at him earnestly, waiting for him to meet your eye. ‘Thank you for existing.’

His leg bounced nervously. When you laid a hand atop his thigh to stop it, his eyes darted to and from your face so fast you almost missed it. There was no way you were letting him shy away from this time. 

‘Bobby, look at me.’ You pleaded.

He did as you asked with some difficulty, and you were met with a hesitant gaze. 

You touched the middle of his head with your index finger. ‘What’s going on in there?’

He leaned against your hand, smiling bashfully like a child. ‘It’s a secret.’ 

‘We don’t keep secrets.’

It seemed like he was going to spill his guts for a moment, but then he stood up. He grabbed your t-shirt, pausing above you.

‘Get some sleep, Y/N. I’ll see you in the morning.’

And with that, he took himself off to the guest room, leaving your heart racing and your head spinning. When Natasha returned, you were still staring at the doorframe, desperately trying to figure out what had just happened. It seemed like Bob was upset with you. 

‘What happened?’

‘I think Bob’s angry with me.’ 

‘Why?’

You picked up the picture frame and handed it to her. ‘He was looking at this, and I tried to talk to him—see if I could see what was going on in his head—and he couldn’t even look at me. He told me to go to sleep.’

Nat’s brows knitted together in confusion. ‘I don’t think he’s upset with you.’

‘He is.’

‘No, he’s not. Hear me out: he’s in love with you, and most of the time, you guys act like more than best friends. Short of sleeping together, you’re basically already a couple. Then, tonight, you have that moment with Bradley—’

‘It-’

Nat held a hand up. ‘Don’t deny it, we all saw it. There’s chemistry there.’ She insisted. ‘Bob’s probably super confused because he can see it too, and then he comes here and sees this. The poor guy probably doesn’t know whether he’s coming or going.’ 

Your heart withered in your chest at the realisation. ‘He’s in love with me.’

‘Yes, Y/N, and you need to do something about it. If you think you might feel the same way, you need to stop fucking around with Rooster and give it a shot with Bob. Or, you need to let Bob down gently because otherwise, someone is gonna get seriously hurt.’ 

God, how you wished it were that simple. You took the clips from your hair and kicked off your boots while Natasha took her makeup off at your vanity. All seriousness put aside, it did feel a lot like the kinds of sleepovers you had with your friends in high school. 

‘Nix, can you unzip my dress?’

‘Damn, now you’re trying it on with me too?’

You laughed. ‘You make me sound like a whore.’

‘I mean, if the shoe fits…’

You grabbed one of your throw pillows and launched it at her. She squealed with laughter, jumping up to grab her own pillow. After dealing a few revenge blows, she unzipped your dress for you. 

Breathless from laughter, you said: ‘Hangman would have a field day if he saw us.’

‘When he asks how our sleepover was on Monday morning, we should tell him we had a pillow fight in lingerie.’ Natasha grinned devilishly. 

‘He won’t be able to focus on his manoeuvres.’

‘Good, then I’ll beat him all day.’ 

Natasha crawled into your bed and propped herself up on your throw pillows. You went through the motions of your night routine, taking off your makeup and changing into pyjamas. It was gone 2 AM by the time you got into bed. You had lots to think about. Natasha was right about somebody getting hurt if you didn’t do something soon. She’d told you everything you needed to hear except what you were supposed to do about it. 

Why couldn’t there be a blueprint, a map that showed you which path to follow and where you’d end up? 

As you drifted off to sleep, you thought about band auditions with Bob on Tuesday afternoon and the expression on his face when he’d seen the picture on your bedside. But this wasn’t all you thought about. You couldn’t help but reminisce about your performance with Bradley and the pure, unadulterated joy you felt while singing with him at the piano. 

Rain pelted against the roof of Bob’s garage. The weather had been awful the last couple of days, the build-up to the storm that had been forecasted for San Diego. Bob loved being cosied up inside when it was storming and falling asleep to the comforting sound of rain. What he didn’t love was the fact that it kept the dagger squad grounded and bored at work. Sure, there were other things to get on with, but he preferred being airborne. 

It had been a tedious week thus far. The only thing getting him through it had been the prospect of band auditions this evening. Considering he didn’t even want to start a band to begin with, he was in his element now. You and Bob were sitting on the sofa in his garage, leaning forward in your seats as you listened to Elliot Green play bass with expert precision. Elliot was one of the air and space operations guys, and he’d seen the poster you’d made on his way to work one morning. Bob wasn’t sure anyone would notice your posters, even though you’d spent ages creating them. 

He’d never been happier to have been wrong about something because Elliot was a natural on the bass. He was precisely the kind of person you needed for the band, and Bob could tell from the glint in your eye that you felt the same.

When he was finished, you both gave him a hearty applause. Elliot was tall and lean, with sandy blonde hair slightly longer than Bob’s and glasses. At work, he wore the same glasses as Bob, but he had a different pair for out of hours. These were round with tortoiseshell rims, and Bob couldn’t help but think Elliot was an artsier version of him. 

‘Well,’ you said dreamily. ‘I don’t think Bob and I need to discuss anything.’

‘No, we don’t.’

‘The spot is yours if you want it.’ You beamed.

Elliot’s blinked behind his glasses, taken aback. ‘Isn’t there anyone else trying out?’

‘Not for bass,’ Bob explained. ‘We've got someone else coming over in the next hour, but he’s trying out for guitar.’

‘You wanna stay?’ You offered. ‘Since you’re part of the band now, it might be a good idea.’

‘Yeah, sure.’ He smiled. ‘Thanks, guys. I’m excited.’

Not even half an hour later, Fletcher Adams showed up with the sexiest-looking guitar Bob had ever seen. It was a matte black Strat, and it suited him perfectly, what with his slicked-back raven hair, grey eyes, and sharp jawline. He introduced himself as Fletcher, but you and Bob knew him as something else. 

Fletcher Adams. Callsign: Phantom. 

He was part of another squadron, and although Bob didn’t know him well, Phantom’s reputation preceded him. If Bob weren’t part of a better squadron than Fletcher, he’d have found him intimidating. 

‘Thanks for having me, guys.’ Fletcher said. ‘I’ve been fixing to join a band for a while now, but there’s not much happening in the San Diego music scene.’ 

Somehow, Bob found that hard to believe. As you grabbed a cherry coke from the mini fridge, Fletcher eyed you like you were something to eat. If he’d wanted a bandmate with a massive crush on his best friend, he’d have called Bradley up.

‘Let’s see what you’ve got.’ Bob said, gesturing towards the guitar. 

Fletcher made a ballsy choice for his audition song: Master of Puppets by Metallica. Part of Bob had hoped that Fletcher was shit at guitar, but he was anything but. It was as if his instrument was an extension of his body, the strings extensions of his fingers. If that wasn’t enough, he played the most challenging part of the song with his eyes closed in bliss. 

It appeared the band was complete. 

Before wrapping things up for the night, you all made plans for the same time and place on Friday night to start putting some songs together. You also pooled all your equipment and made a short list of things you were missing. Everyone contributed, and you and Bob arranged a trip into the city over the weekend to get the last few bits you needed.

The whole thing had come together remarkably quickly, perhaps too quickly for Bob’s liking. At work, he was trained to keep his cool in stressful situations. It was different then, when he could use his nervous energy for problem-solving and quick thinking. He wasn’t unused to feeling like a fish out of water, but this was the furthest from the pond he’d ever been. Bob liked to keep his head below the parapet where it was less likely to get cut off. He stayed off the radar and made as little noise as possible, but starting a band was the exact opposite of that. 

And falling in love with you was the noisiest thing he’d ever done.

A/N: Part two is finally here! This fic isn't doing as well as I thought it would, but I'm still going to finish it because I'm enjoying writing it. I guess my uni professor was right in saying that the projects you're super attached to are the worst received. I have such big plans for the next parts, and it's kind of writing itself at this point. I have no idea whether the reader ends up with Bob or Bradley, so I'll be just as surprised as you guys!

Taglist: @dearsnow

[shady-swan-jones]

Captain Swan Fic Recs are back, baby! - April Edition

Hello, cs friends! It's been like, what, seven years since I last did this? Who's counting. Enjoy the fruits of y'all's labour and some amazing stories. Keep writing, we need you

-Sophie

when Emma falls in love [from the vault] by @spartanguard

Inspired by "When Emma Falls In Love" by Taylor Swift, part of series based on songs from the vault

everyone's wondering why Emma doesn't screw the hot bartender already, it's not like he hasn't given signs. but with emma's romantic past it's not like she's throwing chances to anyone, scruffily attractive as they may be. yet, it's not her past that's worrisome. will they break the curse?

rated T | 6.2k words | AO3

Untie Me | captain swan fic | office romance | mature | 3/5 | 5.9k | in progress, by me

“Didn’t you pay attention to trigonometry, Jones?” she balances her weight on the stick, languidly, in a way that ticks something into his already drowsy brain.  “Is this the part where you offer to teach me, Swan?” he says, advancing to her. 

Read on Ao3 or ff.net

I, lost, was passing by - by @dykelilypage

Five years ago, Emma's father had given her a necklace for her birthday. It was a beautiful ruby encased in a golden chain, that sat heavy on her chest. It was safe to say then, that Emma was more than a little bit pissed off to discover that it had been stolen from right around her neck. The one stroke of luck to the whole ordeal was that she knew exactly who had taken it. Killian Jones. rated E | 6267 words

love scare by @exhaustedpirate

it's a little canon-compliant one-shot that i place during the six weeks of peace, more specifically, like a day or so before 4B rated G | 922 words | ao3

Expecting a Secret [3/3] by @walviemort

Summary: After the events of 3x19, Killian is at his lowest after being rejected by Emma. When Snow’s labor turns out to be a false alarm, Zelena offers Killian a deal: she’ll leave the Charmings alone…if he gives her the baby she needs for her spell instead. There’s just one hitch: he has to keep it a secret. At least it will only take 10 days, right?

The Heart of a Villan (5/5) by @beckettj

There are only two people that can make me care about football: Ted Lasso and this. Words: 6181 ~ AO3

Perilous Harbor by @veryverynotgoodwrites

Emma Swan is heir apparent to her parents' kingdom in the Enchanted Forest, and a powerful wielder of light magic. This makes her the most wanted woman in the realm, not only for marriage, but for leverage against the king and queen. While her parents have been able to keep her safe so far, an attack is launched on Princess Emma that leaves her no choice but to seek the protection of her worst enemy - Killian Jones, infamous captain of the Jolly Roger and his pirate crew. ao3 in progress 19/23

a work of art by @sotangledupinit

“I always have to clean up your messes,” she mutters to herself angrily, eyes glaring down at the red liquid on the floor.

Between Waking Life and Our Dreams (12/?) by @nachocheese-itsmycheese

Season 3b canon divergence: Storybrooke is still missing when Emma, Killian, and Henry reach the town line. AO3 T

The Fluffy Problem by @ineffablecolors

"Oh, I'm going to have fun paying you back, Captain."

ff.net

The Cure for Loneliness (4/?) by @laianely

Killian went to the world without magic to finally kill Crocodile, but instead he met Emma in Gold's shop. And his whole life turned upside down overnight.

E 16k words in progress AO3

Pan Says... (8/?) by @hollyethecurious

After waking up in a strange room with a naked stranger, Emma and Killian must endure the twisted game their kidnapper insists they play in order to gain provisions and avoid punishments.

To Cleave Destiny by @iamstartraveller776

She was going to pass the night the same way she did every year in adulthood: by getting drunk enough to forget that the world was incredibly unfair. Ao3, in progress, T, 4k

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