#i was actually just telling my wife a few days ago ab how funny it is to use this blog exactly as i did before (aka i rb what i want and

[bunnyboy-juice]

stg you’re one of those blogs that never care or notice me, but i’m into it

ok 🩷 yay 🩷

[cherrynflowergarden]

stranger? yes. danger? no. || shubman gill

summary; yn sturniolo is in italy and so is shubman gill.

@love-belle pookie wookie cookie this is for you🎀💋🫀‼️

an; hiiiiiii soooooo sorry for disappearing just like that my results for this very important exams were declared few days ago and i'm so disappointed w it :( anyways i'm back pls pls pls someone tell me how to login on tumblr web 🙏🙏🙏 picture quality in the app is horrible idk if you'll be able to read it properly 😓

imessage

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tagged: mattew.sturniolo

liked by tarayummy, shubmangill, nicholassturniolo and 679,907 others

yourusername italy through my eyes🌷

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tagged: shubmannotfound, chrislovepepsi

liked by mattybraps, birdhater, ynswife and 43 others

urbffswife italy pt 2 (heh)

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birdhater who tf

urbffswife my husband your brother in law😍💋

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chrislovepepsi go back to psyc ward yn🙏

urbffswife LEARN HOW TO SPELL FIRST YOU COMMON VILLAGE WHORE👺

yourusername via instagram stories

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username GIRL WHAT

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username did you find our father, mother?

mattewsturniolo 🤨

teeheeheehee😈

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hehe🤭🎀

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username EXCUSE ME?????????

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♫ mitski • my love mine all mine

tagged shubmangill

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yourusername cause my love is mine all mine💌

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username EXCUSE ME MA'AM?????

username yeh wali toh sundar bhi hai aur funny bhi ab hater kaise bannu 😔😔 translation; she's pretty and funny, how can i be a hater

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username not yn fighting for her man and also thirsting over him all together in the comments

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[rangerangel]

oooh how about some soft Halt giving Will marriage advice??

Here ya go, Anon <3

Halt looked down at the notes in his hands and sighed. Will was pacing. Again. To be clear, Will had been pacing on and off for about three days now, and he always seemed to do it precisely when Halt needed to get something done. He tried to turn his attention back to the notes he so desperately needed to read, when a long drawn out sigh reached his ears from across the room. Halt slammed the papers down on the kitchen table. “WHAT?” he roared, a little louder than he meant to.

Will looked up with a slightly stunned expression. “Huh?” he said, tilting his head. He looked like a big dumb puppy, Halt thought, a bit uncharitably.

“You’re pacing. Why.” Halt gritted out through his teeth.

His old apprentice shrugged slightly. “I didn’t realize, sorry. I’ll stop.” Will flopped down on the bench by the cabin door and started bouncing his knee. He gnawed on the end of one finger and stared out aimlessly into space. Halt did not return to his notes, and instead watched Will with one eyebrow raised. Sure enough, less than 60 seconds went by before Will hopped to his feet and started pacing again. Halt buried his gray head in his hands and groaned.

“Will. Please. I have never asked you to open your mouth before, but I’m begging you. What the hell has got you so worked up?” Will slid into the seat across the table from him and twisted a long strand of hair around his finger. Halt could see the worry written clearly across his face, and decided to wait patiently for the young man to form his thoughts. Well, as patiently as he could manage.

Finally Will said in a soft voice, “How do you be a good husband?”

Halt was floored. “What?” he managed to sputter.

“How do you be a good husband? And don’t give me any of the bullshit like ‘your wife is always right’ or ‘know when to shut up’ or ‘plug your ears’ or any of the stuff that old people say. I want to be a good husband to Alyss. I want to be a good dad to our kids one day. But our wedding is less than a month away and I realized I have ab- solutely no idea how to do either of those things. I don’t want her to wake up in a few years and realize she could have done so much better than me. Or that the person she chose actually has no idea how to be a family after all. You and Pauline are an amazing couple; you never fight. How do you do it?”

Halt waited a few seconds to see if Will was done speaking. His old apprentice was studying the table intently, with the slightest hint of red around his ears and neck. Halt sighed, running his hand over his face and beard. Then abruptly, he got up and closed the distance between them. He pulled Will close to him in a hug, and the younger man let his head rest on his mentor. Halt could feel the tension radiating through his young body, and gently patted the brown curls. After a minute or so, he gently pulled back and looked Will in the eyes.

“First of all, I want you to know that you do know how to be a family. You’ve been a son to me for almost a decade now. You’re intelligent, kind, and pretty damn funny when you want to be. And it’s my personal opinion that Alyss couldn’t have found a better man in all of Araluen. No, the whole damn continent.” Halt saw Will’s eyes start to well with tears, and he gently wiped them away with his rough fingers.

“Also, Pauline and I do fight. Not often, and rarely harshly. But we argue just like any other couple. Two weeks ago we got into an argument about whether or not Hibernian could be counted as rhotic language or not. It was stupid, and I still slept on the couch because of it.” He rubbed his back slightly, wincing at the memory of that morning. “Being a good husband isn’t about never fighting or being perfect. In fact, I have it on good authority that being married to a perfect person would be downright miserable. Imagine if Alyss was never wrong! No, Will. Being a good husband boils down to one main thing. Listen to what she tells you. Alyss is an articulate and intelligent young lady. Don’t guess what she wants—ask her and really listen to her answer. As long as you keep your ears and mind open, you two will do just fine together.”

Will sighed and lowered his head. “It just feels like it couldn’t be that easy. How do so many marriages fall apart if all it takes is listening?”

Halt barked out a laugh. “How many people do you know that actually listen to each other? I remember a certain apprentice who had to be told how to do something five times before he finally got the memo!”

His old apprentice smiled begrudgingly, “I guess you’re right. I really care about her, Halt.”

The older man smiled and gently clapped his boy on the back. “Then I’d say you’re exactly where you need to be. Now how about you let me get back to this work and you stop worrying about foolish things, son?”

Will picked up his bow and began to wax his bowstring. A few minutes of easy silence went by before Will said, “Hey, Halt? Was Pauline right, by the way? About the rhotic language thing.”

He looked up as he saw the face of his mentor darken slightly. “Tell you what, Will. An extra tip for your marriage: know when to shut up.”

[thegizka]

Rumors

ShikaTema Week 2020 - Day 3 - Outfit Swap

The premise for this is kind of whack, but I had a lot of fun writing it!

Genre:  Fluff

Word Count:  2,069

Read it on Ao3.

“This is probably the dumbest plan I’ve ever been part of,” Shikamaru groaned.

“It’ll work, though,” Ino promised, lounging on her couch and flipping through a magazine while her teammate paced around her living room.

“There are a thousand ways this could go wrong.”

“Hey.”  She shot him a pointed look.  “Do you want to be able to walk around with your secret girlfriend in peace or not?”

He sighed.  He and Temari had started dating a few months ago, stealing moments alone during official visits and joint missions.  Their positions in their respective villages made things complicated, so they’d agreed to keep a low profile.  Unfortunately that was easier said than done.  There were already more rumors about them swirling around Konoha than Shikamaru was comfortable with.

“You could always be open about it,” Ino had suggested.  “People are going to know eventually.”

“People knowing will be troublesome,” Shikamaru grumbled.

“It just seems like you’re putting a lot of work into something that will be irrelevant in a few months anyway.  But if you’re set on pretending your relationship is some scandalous secret, I guess I’ll help you out.”

Shikamaru didn’t want to admit that part of his motive for keeping their romance on the down low was selfishness.  He was falling in love, and it was exhilarating.  Those stolen moments with Temari were theirs alone, and he wanted to keep them to himself for as long as possible.  Plus it gave them time to work out how they would navigate their two lives in two separate villages.

“You guys should leave soon or you’ll run out of time,” Ino said loud enough for her voice to carry down the hallway to the room where Temari was changing.

“You just want us out of your hair so Sai can sneak in here,” Shikamaru teased, though he had been thinking they ought to head out soon, too.

“Oh please.”  Ino rolled her eyes, but she also didn’t deny his suggestion.  Shikamaru wouldn’t be surprised if Sai was already hiding somewhere in her apartment just waiting for them to leave.  Secrecy came naturally to him, and though Ino didn’t make any significant effort to hide their relationship, they largely remained under the radar of the village gossips.  Shikamaru was a little envious.

The sound of a door opening interrupted his thoughts.  A moment later, Temari stepped into the living room.  Shikamaru blinked, his eyebrows pulling together of their own accord because this was just...strange.  He knew Temari was standing in front of him.  The suspicious look she was giving him was certifiably her.  But he also had to remind part of his brain that she wasn’t Ino.

“What?” she demanded, troubled by his confused expression.  “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he responded.  He made a conscious effort to relax his features while his mind untangled itself.

“He’s just tongue-tied because you look amazing!”  Ino set aside her magazine to get up and circle the other woman, inspecting her work.  “How does it feel?”

“It’s a little tight in some places.”  Temari pulled the crop top and rolled her shoulders.  Shikamaru tried not to inspect the places where it hugged her body too closely.  “This skirt is super comfortable, though.”

“I know, right?  I love it.”  Ino adjusted a few strands of Temari’s hair.  “What do you think of the wig?”

“It’s a lot of hair, but I can work with it for a few hours.  Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

“Oh yeah,” she laughed.  “Half of the village thinks Shikamaru and I ought to be dating already.  It’ll take some scrutiny off of you and Sai, which works for me.”

“You’ve always been an attention hog,” Shikamaru sighed.  She just stuck out her tongue at him and returned to the couch.

“Go on,” she said.  “You kids have fun.  Be responsible.  I’ll come pick up my clothes sometime tomorrow.”

“You have fun, too,” Temari called as they left.  “She was definitely telling us not to come back here tonight.”

“Trust me, you don’t want to see what she and Sai get up to.”

“You have no real idea of what they do together,” Temari declared with such confidence that he wondered how she could see straight through him.  “Otherwise you wouldn’t be so scared of finding out.”

“I’m sorry, would you want to walk in on one of your brothers passionately making out with someone--or worse?”

“No, but they wouldn’t allow themselves to get caught in such a situation in the first place.”

“Ino and Sai are skilled enough not to get caught, but I know Ino has less shame than you think.  I mean, she walks around in that outfit almost every day.”

“What’s wrong with this outfit?” Temari demanded, hands on her hips in a challenge.  It brought his attention to the smooth skin of her exposed abs.  Funny how it captured his attention now while it had never interested him when Ino wore that crop top.

“Nothing,” he gulped, forcing himself to look away.  “Come on.”

“You’re terrible,” she sighed, but she followed after him, slipping her hand into his.

“Hey-”

“What?” she challenged.  “The purpose of this getup is to be able to go around more freely, right?”  Temari leaned towards him to whisper in his ear.  “Let’s start a few rumors.”

“I’m the one who will have to live with these rumors,” he grumbled.  He was starting to think she was enjoying this a little too much.

“That’s the price you pay,” she grinned.  “Come on, let’s see how this goes.  It’d be a shame to let all of this effort go to waste.”

“What a drag,” Shikamaru muttered, but he didn’t pull away.

The success of this date depended on how precisely they could walk the line of being seen but not letting anyone get too close.  He had carefully planned a date that would let them make a few appearances at some public but less frequented locations.  Assuming they weren’t unlucky, they’d have just enough privacy to enjoy their time together without totally hiding.

They opted to grab dinner at a little food cart tucked just off of the main street.  Neither Ino nor Shikamaru frequented it, so they were unlikely to be particularly memorable.  The plan was to grab food and eat on a previously scouted rooftop so they could enjoy the sunset.  After the sun went down, they could wander the village or return to the Nara estate for the rest of the evening.

“Got everything?” Shikamaru asked, balancing a sandwich and both of their drinks.

“Yes, thank you.”  Temari grabbed a few extra napkins and then took her drink from him.  “Where to?”

“The school.”

“The school?  How romantic.”

“You’ll think so once you see the view.”

“Believe it or not, I have been on the Academy roof before.”

“But were you with such charming company?”

“We were planning the chunin exam, so-”

“Shikamaru!”

They had just enough time to exchange a surprised glance before turning to greet an enthusiastic Naruto with his wife just a step behind him.

“Hello Shikamaru.  Hi I-Ino?”  Hinata’s voice rose in surprise.  She looked between them, confused, but neither had time to explain before Naruto spoke.

“What are you two up to?”

“Just grabbing dinner,” Shikamaru said carefully.  He could tell Hinata had seen through them, but he wasn’t sure whether Naruto had caught on.

“We just got done at Ichiraku.  I’m stuffed.”  He laughed, and Hinata glanced at him with an amused smile.  They had only been married a few months, but there was a new brightness to them when they were together.  Nothing significant had changed between them, but there was a palpable difference.  It made Shikamaru wonder if he and Temari would get to experience that part of their relationship.

“Hey, where’s Chouji?” Naruto asked, glancing around.  “You three are always together.”

“He’s on a mission to Kumo for a few days.”  He’d been taking a lot of missions to Kumo recently.

“So it’s just you two.  That must be kind of weird.”

“It’s fine, actually.”

“Are you sure?”  Naruto turned to Temari with a significant look.  “Ino, you’re being awfully quiet.”

“I’m just hungry.”  Her voice was elevated from nerves or an attempt to mimic Ino, but she sounded strained.  Naruto frowned.

“Naruto,” Hinata said gently before he could comment further, “we should let them eat.  Besides, you wanted to look for some dessert, right?”

“Oh yeah.  Sorry Hinata, I forgot.  See you guys later!”

Shikamaru mouthed a “thank you” to Hinata as she and her husband turned to leave.  She just smiled before walking away with a final confused glance.

“Come on,” he sighed, heading towards the school again.  Temari giggled behind him.

“Naruto can be really dense, can’t he?”

“Lucky for us.”

“We’ll have to explain everything to Hinata, though.  I can only imagine what she thinks we’re up to.”

“Let’s just hope we don’t run into anyone else.  That was a bit too close for comfort.”

“I bet it’ll get a few rumors started, though,” she grinned as they climbed up onto the school’s roof.

“Only if Hinata doesn’t run interference.”  Shikamaru picked a spot near the western edge of the roof and sat.  Temari settled beside him, and they delved into their food.  A few moments of silence stretched between them while the sky was painted in gold and lavender.  A few clouds blushed in the setting sun.  They watched a pair of birds diving through the air in the distance.

“This is nice,” Temari sighed, leaning against him while she sipped her drink.

“Yeah.”  He wrapped his arm around her but flinched when his hand met the bare skin of her waist.  She just laughed.

“You’re so jumpy,” she teased, grabbing his hand and holding it in her own.  “Relax.  Enjoy the view.  Cuddle your girlfriend.  Take it easy like you always say you want to.”

He hummed and tried to just enjoy the moment.  That was the purpose of this whole charade, right?  Temari seemed to have no problem with it.  But every time he glanced at her, he had to look away.  It was just too uncomfortable.

“Is it really that bad?” she asked, jostling him with her shoulder.

“I can’t even look at you.  You don’t look bad,” he added hurriedly.  He had seen her covered in dirt and sweat and blood, and she still looked beautiful.  She always looked beautiful.  “I just get a headache because you’re not actually Ino and the dumb part of my brain thinks you are.”

“Oh my gosh, are you attracted to Ino?”

“No!  Definitely not.  But I am attracted to you, and right now you look a lot like her.”

“So you are attracted to her.”

“I’m not!”

“I’m just teasing you,” she smirked.  “To be honest, this is all a bit too strange.  It was funny to see Naruto’s reaction, but it’s not worth it if you’re not comfortable.”

“It’s not all bad,” he admitted, kissing her exposed shoulder, the closest he could bring himself to admitting that he liked the way the crop top fit her.  She cocked her eyebrow at him.

“Do you want to expand on that?”

“Maybe at home.”

“Alright then.”  Temari stood and stretched, giving Shikamaru a moment to admire the way the late evening sunlight struck the skin of her exposed stomach.  “Can we grab some dango on the way?”

“You don’t want to watch the rest of the sunset?”

“I’ve seen better.”

“So much for trying to be romantic,” he grumbled, gathering their food wrappers.  She turned and surprised him with a kiss on his cheek.

“It was a good date,” she said with a charming smile.  “Now come on, let’s see if we can start another rumor or two before it’s over.”

-----

“I can’t believe you two!” Chouji cried.  “I’m gone for five days and you break up with Temari and Sai and start dating each other?”

“You were dating Temari?”  Naruto blinked.

“Uh,” Shikamaru stuttered, and Ino burst out laughing.

“I don’t think you should laugh about this,” their teammate frowned.  “You should be ashamed for moving on so quickly after breaking their hearts.  And not telling me about it yourselves!  I had to hear it all from Naruto.”

“Sorry Chouji,” Ino giggled.  She shot Shikamaru a triumphant look.  “I’m just happy everything worked like it was supposed to.”

Shikamaru sighed.  “What a drag.”

[lifeinahole27]

CS ff: “A Toast to Now” (Part 2) (au)

Summary: His neighbors may be brightening their own holidays, but they’re ruining the constant melancholy of his life. He’s determined to keep to himself until the single mother that lives next door to him drops literally through his door two nights before Christmas. It’s the moment that may be temporary, like everything else, but it may just change everything.

Rating: E (sorry not sorry)

Warnings: Just smut for this part. Not exactly anti-Neal but also not pro-Neal. 

A/N: Hoooooly crap it’s finally done! This is way longer than I anticipated it would be, and I thought about splitting it into more sections and posting for a couple days, but the whole thing is just over 13k so why the hell not just post the remaining 11k. This is, of course, the “second part” to @effulgentcolors secret santa gift for 2018. I’m so glad I got you, that I could take a little more time and make it something I’m really proud of writing for you, and using all the things you like to hopefully make one hell of a gift. I hope you enjoy it, dear. And I hope all of you reading enjoy. Now to get back to work on my second CSJJ! Thanks one more time to @cssecretsanta2k18 for rocking this event and staying on top of everything! 

Read Part 1 Here! 

Posted as one part to FFN & Ao3 if you’d prefer to read it there!

-x-

Emma wakes in the morning to her phone ringing, a headache, and the reminder that she did not get to spend the night in her own apartment. With groggy morning brain, she rolls from the couch, trying to locate her phone and finding it plugged into a charger that’s definitely not hers, nor did she plug it in. Killian Jones, it seems, is one of the most considerate people she’s ever met, and she’s now madder than ever that she was so drunk last night and couldn’t even enjoy their meeting to the fullest extent.

The third ring of her phone has her scrambling for it, and she greets Marco as cheerfully and as quietly as she can. She already interrupted Killian’s night; she doesn’t want to interrupt his sleep, as well. She agrees to meet the landlord at the door and hangs up, quietly gathering her clothes and phone and bag and creeping out the door. She hopes she can get into her apartment and change before her neighbor wakes up, intent on sneaking back in after she’s had a chance to change and make some coffee for the both of them. It’s the least she can do.

As soon as Marco unlocks the door, Emma thanks him and hurries in, throwing items where they need to go while rushing for the coffee maker. While it heats up and brews, she changes into her own clothes, folding Killian’s carefully and putting them off to the side to return to him.

After she’s washed up – teeth brushed, hair untangled and braided, face quickly washed free of any makeup she still had left – she heads back to her kitchen. It takes her a second to realize she’s looking straight at her keys on her counter, not so lost after all, and she groans as she stuffs them in the pocket not occupied by her phone before she pours a couple mugs of coffee and secures lids on each of them.

Maybe she just won’t tell him that they were here all along, or maybe he’ll find the humor in it like she eventually will. But eventually, because it’s certainly not so funny right this moment. Slipping on a pair of flats to walk down the hall, Emma checks her appearance in a small mirror by the entrance and balances the mugs to open and shut the door behind her.

She’s always wondered what her next door neighbor was like. Henry was always going on and on about what a cool guy Mr. Jones was, and he was one of three people in the whole complex she was comfortable with her son talking to, just because of word of mouth. She knew he was quiet and kept to himself, but in the years he has lived here beyond their length of renting, he’s known to everyone as a gentle presence. She doesn’t even know how old he is, but he’s definitely not the old man everyone claimed “Jones” to be.

A puzzle to be put together with more than rumors, if she has anything to say about it.

He seems surprised as hell when she shows up just a half hour later with two travel mugs, fresh clothes, and a smile. The somewhat sour expression he had on his face when he opened the door slowly morphed into pleasant wonder, and he opens the door further when she asks if she can come in.

“I take it you got your extra key?” His voice is rough, and she finds she likes the sound of it more than she should.

“Marco let me in a bit ago. I uh, I don’t cook or else I would’ve made breakfast. Just wanted to do something small to say thanks again for last night.”

“Never a problem, Swan. If you ever need anything, you only need to ask.”

“Well, how about helping me share a pizza tonight for dinner.”

“Pardon?”

“Henry doesn’t come back until late tonight, and I actually hate being alone during the holidays. I spent enough years on my own,” she says before she can stop herself from saying it. The look in Killian’s eyes, however, holds no further question or judgement. He, too, looks like someone who has spent quite a few holidays alone. “Anyway, I thought maybe we could get to actually know each other, seeing as we’ve been neighbors for so long and I just finally learned your name.”

He hesitates in answering, and it’s during his pause that her eyes land on the star on the wall, Henry’s rough penmanship written across the front in marker. She has a matching one on the tree. She didn’t realize she made one for Killian, too. She reaches out to run her finger along the edge, a smile on her face as she does, before she turns back to Killian. His brows are furrowed, the emotion in his eyes one she can’t quite place, but there’s a softness there she didn’t expect.

“I suppose pizza would be a good way to spend the evening,” he says after another moment.

With a brilliant smile, she gives him a time to be at her place, telling him to return the mug when he comes by before she ducks back out of the apartment.

Once back in her own place, she looks around at the chaotic mess she and Henry live in, and she cringes. Now she just needs to make it look like a tornado hasn’t blown through recently and she’ll be ready to have him over.

The day moves so slowly after the tidying takes way less time than she thought it would. Henry has a pile of mess to clean off his bed when he gets back tonight, but maybe he should’ve listened when she told him to clean up his stuff before he left for his dad’s place. She even cleaned the bathroom, just in case. When she calls the pizza place, she makes sure she’s the last one on their delivery list for their early hours, and promises a hefty tip to the kid before she hangs up.

Killian arrives only three minutes after the pizza does, and he holds up a six pack in greeting.

“Wasn’t sure if you liked beer, or what kind?”

“I do, and it’s just my kind,” she says as she takes the offering and ushers him in. When she sets it down on the counter, he also holds up the left hand – today it’s a hook, but she’s seen the artificial hand, as well – and releases the handle of her travel mug when she grabs it. “Thanks,” she says, giving him another smile. She makes a mental note to tell him about his borrowed clothes on the entryway table later on, but for now she rummages through her gadget drawer for a bottle opener before lifting it victoriously.

Over the course of two beers and three pieces each (she’s not ashamed, she works hard at the gym for her abs and deserves her carbs when she wants them), she finds out more about Killian than she anticipated. Some of it, the standard information like his time in Storybrooke and his jobs, she was already partially aware of thanks to Henry and town gossip. The other stuff, it doesn’t look like he even means to tell her. But there’s the story of how he lost his hand, and why he ended up here. She finds out about his brother passing away, and his ultimate heartbreak when his almost-wife died tragically.

She only feels right, then, sharing as much as she can with him in return. Her foster home upbringing gets aired out quickly, along with her relationship with her adopted brother and his sickeningly cute marriage to Snow White (they call her Snow anyway, so technically, it’s not an exaggeration). She talks about her decision to get her GED while she worked bail bonds, and how that led to her going to the police academy and coming back to Storybrooke to take a position as deputy.

“I was here from the moment Ruth adopted me at thirteen until the moment I ran away with Neal my senior year of high school,” she tells him as she’s nursing the end of beer number two. He doesn’t seem in any rush to reach for the third, either, so she sets it off to the side. “Do you want hot chocolate? Coffee? I don’t know if you noticed but our windows are extremely drafty in this apartment and I need something to warm me up.”

He chuckles when she says it, shifting to help gather some of his own trash as Emma’s doing the same. “I offered to weatherproof my own after my first winter here. I can ask Marco if I can do the same for yours, if you’d like. He used to have his son to do the maintenance around here until August went off to be a writer in New York.”

“Hey, I’m certainly not gonna say no to that offer. So? What’ll it be?”

Killian fiddles with the bottle in his hand for a minute before he shrugs and nods. “I’ll have whatever you’re having. When’s your boy due home?”

“Well, according to the custody agreement, he should be home at ten. It was earlier when he was younger, but since he stopped believing in Santa, we’ve been able to play with the times a little.”

“He’s only just turned twelve, hasn’t he?”

“Yep.” She knows he’s doing the math, or at least trying to, and she’s getting ready to cringe as his brows furrow and he looks at her. The kettle whistles, saving her from a conversation she doesn’t want to have just yet, a conversation that she’s only had twice in her life – once with Henry when he asked two years ago and once with David when she showed up back on his doorstep, three months pregnant and crying.

With care, she mixes the hot chocolate in each mug and tops them with her signature whipped cream and cinnamon. “I usually make the good stuff with milk or cream, but I’m out of both and won’t be able to shop until the day after tomorrow,” she explains, not really needing to but wanting to anyways.

“Don’t usually make it, meself. So this is all new to me,” he tells her as he takes the handle of his mug and follows her back to the couch. It’s still early, with two more hours until Henry will be flying through that door.

“Well, come back over when I have all my usual ingredients. I may not cook much but I make a damn good hot chocolate.”

He stops and stares at her, and Emma tilts her head to the side in question. “What is it?”

“You want me to come back for more than just weatherproofing?”

It’s something about the tone of his words that takes her a moment to form her response. “Well, of course I do. I wouldn’t have offered pizza in the first place if I didn’t want you to come over. And I don’t know about you but I’ve been having a great time tonight.”

“I have too, Swan. Thank you. I’m sure it’s obvious, but I don’t spend much time socializing outside my apartment. It’s quite nice to have a… friend?”

“Same here,” Emma says, smiling and resisting reaching out and touching him. Because suddenly, she wants to touch his hand. Worse, she wants to kiss him. It’s going to take some time for her to unpack that thought, though.

He stays almost until the time Henry comes home. And while she told him he was welcome to stay and say hello, he still helped her clean up and said he’d catch Henry again soon. His goodnight and wishes for a happy Christmas were given quietly, their proximity in the doorway closer than she intended to be to him but unable to move away. She manages to keep her hands to herself as she repeats the words back to him, closing the door and leaning against it until she hears his door close further down the hallway.

“Crap,” Emma mutters to herself. She wanted to meet her neighbor, not fall for him.

-x-

Killian figures he’ll wait a few days and then offer to help Emma with the weatherproofing he said he would complete for her. He figures he won’t hear from her, and that he’ll just try his best to see when their schedules line up, and that’ll be that. What he does not expect is the knock on his door just past breakfast time on Christmas morning. Looking out the spy hole on his door reveals not only Emma, but Henry as well. Both of them have their hands behind their backs, and their expressions border on mischief. He runs a hand through his hair once, trying to tame it back, then opens the door for them.

“Merry Christmas!” they say in unison. They sound far too cheery for the early hour, but he can’t help but smile at the both of them and give them greetings as well.

“Why do you both look as if you’re up to something?”

“Because we are,” Henry says immediately, his smile large and toothy and almost childlike in its appearance.

“May we come in?” Emma asks, her smile smaller but no less playful.

He narrows his eyes, sizing them both up, but they stand their ground until he steps back and opens the door wider. What happens next can only be described as a Christmas ambush. They each had multiple bags behind their backs, laden and damn near bursting at the seams with all that was inside them.

“So I let slip that you have your ornament hanging on the wall,” Emma explains as she sets her bag down and Henry starts pulling out item after item, as if the bag was a clown car rather than a reusable shopping bag. “And that you don’t have a tree, or any decorations. I tried to stop him?” She says it with a shrug, and an adorable twist of his lips, and Killian still can’t believe they’re even here, and apparently setting to work giving him a Christmas miracle, by the looks of it.

“Where the blazes did you get all this?” It’s not quite the first thing he was going to say, but neither of them slow even for a heartbeat in their process.

“So when we moved from Boston, we finally had enough space for a bigger tree, and we wanted bigger ornaments with more meaning, so we started collecting them and Henry started making his own. These have been in storage until, well, this morning.”

“Mom told me you don’t have anything up in here. I like my ornament on the wall, but I think it would look much better on this tree,” Henry finally pipes up, and Killian looks over to see that he’s placed a small tree on one of his empty end tables. He’s even managed to find an outlet for it, and it twinkles merrily with its pre-lit multi-color lights. The boy is looking at him, and while he was brazen when he walked in and started unpacking, there’s an edge of uncertainty in his eyes at the moment.

With care, Killian closes his mouth and wanders over to where Henry is starting to fidget by the bag of decorations. Killian stoops to rummage through the bag for a moment and procure a package of tiny baubles that are the perfect size for the miniature tree. He tilts the box back and forth to see the way the glitter catches the lights.

“Tell me, lad. Did you pick these out?”

“Mom and I did together,” Henry responds, his eyes darting over to Emma and the smile coming unbidden to his face before he looks back at Killian. He’s going to start growing like a weed soon, Killian can tell just by looking at him, and he starts to grin with that thought. He pictures Emma and Henry picking out small ornaments for their small tree as a small family, and the image in his mind is sweet and filled with hope and love, and he can feel the life spreading through his body.

“I love them,” he tells Henry plainly. “But I want your ornament to be the first one on this tree.”

If he thought the boy was smiling before, then he’s downright beaming after Killian says that. He runs over to where the star is hanging on the wall and carefully pulls it down, hastening back to Killian’s side to hand the star over. Killian handles it just as gently, affixing the string to one of the upper branches so the star falls in the very middle.

It’s perfect.

“Yeah, it is,” Emma says, suddenly standing much closer than she was before. He wasn’t aware he said it out loud, but he’s glad he did because it’s true. With the first one done, the three of them get to work decorating his new tree, filling it with more ornaments than it should realistically fit. There’s even a tiny strand of garland that they wrap around it, and a red and white skirt which wraps around the base and ties the whole picture together nicely.

But the bags are nowhere near empty.

“Bloody hell, have you brought the whole store with you, then?”

“Yep,” Emma says, the ‘p’ popping at the end as she smirks at him.

With every item that comes out of the bags, she gives the story: It’s something she picked up ages ago but never put out, it’s something she wants to put out but doesn’t have the right space, it’s something she got from a secret Santa when she first moved to Storybrooke, it’s something she bought for David and never gave to him…

By the time they’re done, not only is there a resplendent little tree on one of his end tables, but they’ve strung lights around the window in his living room and placed holiday themed items around the room. There’s a candle that smells like cinnamon burning on his coffee table, and a wreath made of grapevines with sprays of berries and pine trimmings. All fake, of course, but the whole thing looks rustic and fits perfectly in his opinion. There’s also a very light throw with a buffalo check pattern in red and black that comes out last, and Emma carefully drapes it over the back of his couch.

“That’s one of my throws. But once I pictured it in this area, I couldn’t leave it alone.”

He can hardly believe his eyes, or that this transformation has taken place in his own living space. There’s so much more color and vibrancy to the room, and he wonders how he ever did without any of it – which goes far beyond the decorations. Emma and Henry fit here, too. Their laughter fills in all the cracks and warms his heart in ways he didn’t know he was missing. At lunch time, Henry’s stomach growls so loudly that Emma apologizes for him while chuckling.

“Would you like to join us for grilled cheese and soup?” she asks him when she finally controls herself. There’s no possible way he could turn that down.

They include him in their whole day, and Killian can’t say he minds one bit. It’s clear they had their morning together and breakfast, but lunch and dinner and every space between they spend with Killian. They bounce back and forth between apartments, as well, spending lunch at theirs and dinner at his. He only had a few chicken breasts he planned on baking and saving for dinner all week, but with their kitchen contents combined, they make a recipe Emma calls “Chicken Supreme” and they settle along his breakfast bar to eat, with Henry sitting on the counter because he only has two stools.

While Emma and Killian clean up the kitchen, Henry takes command of the remote and finds a marathon of Christmas movies. It gives him time with Emma, not that he doesn’t want Henry there, but just a moment to express his gratitude for the whole day.

“Swan, I wanted to thank you for today,” he says as she finishes packing away the leftovers and hands him the container to put into the fridge.

“It was our pleasure,” she responds, tossing a smile and a look he’s unsure of over her shoulder as she does. She goes right back to cleaning up, setting the pan in the sink to soak a bit before Killian ushers her away to finish loading the dishwasher. With the cycle started on that, they join Henry in the living room.

He’s taken up occupancy of his armchair, which means Killian and Emma are together on the couch. They sit a respectable distance apart, but as the evening draws on and they get more comfortable, he’s shocked to feel her pinky finger touching his on the cushion between them. It could be an accidental touch, so he holds perfectly still, trying to stay as natural as possible while his heart damn well beats out of his chest over the slightest bit of contact. Ah, how the suave have fallen.

It’s no accident, however, when her finger nudges his, and he looks down at their hands and up at Emma’s eyes. There’s a question there, a nervous gesture when she wets her lips and presses them together. And oh, how he wants to kiss her right now. But instead, he extends his pinky and wraps it around hers. Her eyelashes flutter a few times before she smiles, and the space between them naturally thins as the movie rolls onward. Before the credits, their hands are clasped palm to palm with their fingers linked together, and Killian is struggling to remember a time when something so small meant so much to him.

With the late hour and the long day, Henry has long since fallen asleep in the armchair. Really, for him, the extra time was a wonderful excuse for him to hold Emma’s hand a little longer. Even she seems a little reluctant when it becomes obvious that her eyes are growing heavy, as well.

“Thanks for everything today,” she says quietly. The television has been switched off and so they sit in the dim lighting of the tree, Henry’s even breathing the only sound besides their words.

“I could say the same,” he murmurs. Again, he wants nothing more than to kiss her, but it’s been two days; something tells him that they both need more time for this to develop properly. So instead, he kisses the back of Emma’s hand and rises from the couch first. He helps her to her feet, relishing the moment she sways into his space. It’s not really an embrace, but it’s something close to one. He ghosts his lips across her hair and swears to himself that he’ll do everything in his power to do this right.

After they rouse Henry, he sees them off, wishing them one last happy tiding and a good night, as well. Back in his own apartment, he’s surprised it doesn’t feel as empty as he expected it to with the two of them gone. The glow from the tree helps, as does the evidence of their presence in almost every space he’s used to seeing barren.

-x-

Slow progress is good progress, according to Emma. Her heart had stuttered and then beat twice as hard when Killian’s finger linked with her own on Christmas. On New Year’s Eve, right as the ball drops, they kiss. It’s a mutual agreement as they watch the countdown on television. Henry’s not there, so it’s just the two of them on her couch with a bottle of champagne. They’re even both in their pajamas. It would be so easy to invite him to her bed, strip off those flannel pants, but she wants this to stay at the pace it’s going.

So they kiss – a couple sweet and simple touches of their lips that taste like champagne and chocolates from where she was snacking earlier. Shortly after that, he rises from her couch and wishes her goodnight with another kiss, and she walks him to the door as if it’s not been forever since she kissed someone and she doesn’t want to stop.

On Valentine’s Day, a bouquet of flowers shows up at the station with her name on them. They aren’t red, they aren’t roses, and they’re signed simply with “Thinking of You – K. Jones” and she almost cries. She leaves the arrangement in her car as she stops at the bar after her shift, not really caring about the few patrons scattered around the quiet little establishment as she heads straight for the man behind the worn wood. She pulls him over the divider just enough to kiss him hard, his hand barely having time to caress her cheek before she’s pulling away again. She has to go pick up Henry from David and Snow’s house still, and they have dinner being delivered in an hour, but she needed to do this in person today.

“Thanks for the flowers, Jones. See you tomorrow?”

He nods, his eyes still transfixed on her lips as she speaks, and she’s tempted to kiss him again but she won’t leave if she does. Instead, she releases her hold on his shirt and sends him a wink as she gets closer to the door. The whole bar is turned to stare at her, all with the same dumbstruck look on their faces as Killian has as he raises his hand in farewell and a smile blooms across his whole face.

On St. Patrick’s Day, neither of them make any moves at all. In fact, they hadn’t really planned on seeing each other because of the nature of both of their jobs. While Storybrooke isn’t a big party town by any means imaginable, Killian still works at a bar, and Emma still works as a deputy, which means they’ve both been wrangling drunks all night.

Thanks to David and Snow, Henry is spending the night at their house tonight. He got back sometime this evening but knowing the holiday, Neal took him straight out to her brother’s place. He’s a piece of work, but he doesn’t fight the dumb shit anymore – not that he ever should have since he all but ran when she told him she was pregnant – but he pays her a hefty amount of child support and made up monetarily for the years he missed in the beginning. As long as he doesn’t fight her on custody or try to poison Henry’s mind against her, she really doesn’t give a damn about him.

That’s a whole different story, though, and one that’s not important to Emma as she all but crashes into Killian in the stairwell that leads to the apartments. Wordlessly, and looking just as exhausted as she feels, he invites her in to his place since it’s closer.

They barely make it into pajamas before falling into his bed, which is how Emma wakes up after having slept with Killian for the first time. And not even the really fun kind, but the necessary kind. He’s still asleep but stirring awake when she opens her eyes, so she gets to see the way his eyelashes flutter and how he turns and stretches his whole body upon waking.

His hair is an absolute riot on top of his head, the dark brown and hints of gray going in every direction. She has never, in all her life, been attracted to a man so much older than her. Sure, something can be said about how she’s always gone for men older than she is, but this is definitely a different playing field. But Killian doesn’t really act like there’s an age gap between them, so she chooses to see past it as well.

Right now, he looks so much younger than the day they met. His hair is trimmed short now, as it has been since right after the Christmas. He showed up at the station with coffee for her one morning with his hair cut and styled like she imagines he may have worn it once. The unruly beard he’d sported before was suddenly shorter, bordering on the growth from not shaving for a few days, but neater.

She can’t get over the way he looks so similar to before but different, all dark brown hair with gray wings spread along his temples and up over his forehead. The same silver is just starting to pepper into his eyebrows and beard, and she idly wonders how long it’ll take for him to go fully gray. She’s really never entertained the idea of sleeping with a silver fox before, but looking at the way Killian pops his empty wrist beneath his head and rubs his hand over his face before running it through his hair, she has to admit that her thoughts are getting less pure by the minute.

Especially when Killian catches her staring, his eyebrow raising as his lips twitch up knowingly. “Good morning, love,” comes his husky whisper.

“Morning,” she responds, just as quietly and her voice just a bit breathless. “Sleep well?”

“Aye. Like a dream. You?”

She nods, her eyes still trained on him, her body nudging her to move closer, to touch, to kiss, to finally feel. It’s been almost three months since her ridiculous failure of a night before Christmas Eve. They’ve kissed more times than she can count, fallen asleep watching movies – with and without Henry in attendance – at both of their apartments, they’ve spent countless nights getting to know each other, divulging the secrets of their pasts slowly but surely. There’s been some heavy make-out sessions and she’s found that he’s learned exactly how to turn her on already.

But actually venturing into sexual activities? That’s the one place they’ve taken it slow. So really, can anyone blame her for sliding across the unoccupied space in his bed and leaning over him to kiss him senseless? She doesn’t even wait for it to start shifting into something a little deeper before she’s rising up all the way, settling over his thighs as her hands wander up under the hem of the t-shirt he slept in. She feels his muscles twitch, his stomach hollowing out as she hits a particularly ticklish spot, and then resettling when her hands brush over his pecs.

Killian’s hand tangles in her hair, the strands partially wrapped around his fingers as he caresses her neck and pulls her closer. She shimmies up a little, resting right over his hardening cock and rocking experimentally to see how he’ll react. A groan emanates from deep in his chest, and he waits until she’s done it a couple times before flipping them over with ease, settling between her thighs even with his bottoms and her underwear between them. He thrusts against her, in no apparent hurry to shed any of their clothing. Instead, he steals her breath away with his movements, with his deep kisses, with his fingers ghosting along her tank top to tease her nipples into stiffening.

She barely has time to reconcile that they’re actually doing this before she’s tightening her thighs around his hips, his name a silent whisper on repeat as she comes undone. Her nails scrape down his back and he stills, his eyes shut tightly and her name huffed out on a quiet breath. They both pause, both trying to regain their senses as they open their eyes to look at the other. Their matching smiles are almost shy, but Killian leans down to leave a tender kiss on her lips.

He clears his throat, his eyebrows furrowing a little as he holds back a salacious grin. “Would you like some coffee this morning?”

“Isn’t that what we just had?” she inquires, arching up a little and relishing in the way he scrunches one eye closed as he encounters his own release in his pajamas.

“I’ve thought of roughly three things to reply and all of them sound dirty. Out of bed with you, love. Give me a moment to change and I’ll meet you in the kitchen?”

She nods, her nose bumping into his as she does, and she can’t resist kissing him again. This is something she can get used to – all day, every day, please and thank you.

They split ways approximately three minutes and what feels like a thousand more kisses later – Emma rushes to the bathroom to tidy up a little and throw on the same plaid pj bottoms he gave to her months ago under different circumstances, and then she wanders out to the kitchen to set up his coffee maker. She’s familiar with the whole set up now, so she prepares it and hits the button to start the brew cycle at the same time Killian shows up behind her.

With time to wait until the coffee finishes percolating, he wastes no time wrapping his arms around her waist. His hand travels up to palm at her breast while his lips tease along her neck, and suddenly Emma’s thoughts have nothing to do with coffee.

“You sure you don’t need a nap or something before starting up again?”

He doesn’t even pause in his ministrations, and her breath quickens as his hand starts traveling to slip beneath the waistband of her borrowed bottoms. His fingers brush along the spot where thigh meets body and she struggles to keep herself upright on her own – her knees actually go weak for a moment.

“I may be older than you, Swan, but that just means I’ve had longer to hone my experience, and my recovery time,” he tells her, pulling her back until they’re pressed against each other from shoulders to knees. “For the record, I had a very romantic plan for our next date night that involved a lot of candles and my best set of sheets having to be replaced before morning, if you’d been agreeable to it. You and I were very naked when I imagined the course of the evening, and it was probably incredibly old-fashioned, but very worth the wait we’ve spent.”

It does sound perfect, and she’s almost tempted to tell him to wait, that they can hold out a little longer and have that perfect evening he’s imagined, but he chooses that moment to press their hips together a little more and she leans back into his touch.

“Next time,” she utters, reaching back to wrap her arm around his neck and maneuvering so he’s kissing her right as they are. The straps of her tank top get peeled off her shoulders, and Emma shudders with pleasure as he draws the material down over her breasts, leaving it bunched at her waist for the moment so he can touch without barriers for the first time. His left arm remains wrapped around her waist, providing leverage for the shallow thrusts he’s making against her backside. “You need to lose the pants or else we’re having a repeat of when we woke up,” she tells him plainly, abandoning her own needs for a moment as she turns and urges him to remove his shirt.

For all the ways she’s seen Killian at this point, self-conscious never really came to mind, but as soon as that shirt comes off, that’s exactly how he looks. But she has no idea why. The man is built beautifully. His biceps are firm, his chest broad and his shoulders strong. But more than all of that, he’s human. He has scars – more than the obvious ones around his wrist – and other places where his skin is so baby smooth that she can’t help but stroke it peacefully for both their contentment. But now is not time for simply contentment. She leans up on her toes to kiss him again, pressing her chest against his and swallowing his noise of satisfaction.

“Fast, Killian,” she mutters between kisses, and he immediately walks them towards the counter. With her nod of approval he spins them again until she’s facing the counter. Behind her, Killian slides her top and bottoms over her hips and leaves them pooled on the floor by her feet. His hand disappears for a second, but when he comes back she can feel the hard heat of him pressing between her thighs at the same time his hand reaches forward and his fingers drag along her wetness. She doesn’t know which she wants more, to lean back and fall into his embrace or move forward and ask him for more.

He brings her almost to the brink of orgasm like that, his fingers circling her clit between dipping inside of her. He presses his cock against her center, coating himself to lubricate before he silently asks her to lean forward a little, just the right angle for him to enter her slowly on the next thrust. His hand once again moves, but his fingers just cover over her clit as he pushes her against the counter with each thrust, providing the perfect pressure to build her up all over again.

“Shit, shit, shit,” she murmurs with the time of each thrust; it takes next to no time at all before she’s actually coming again, her voice loud in his quiet apartment, and she’s so glad that she’s his immediate neighbor so no one else can hear her. He slips out of her, still hard, but he’s turning her so he can kiss her again, deep and passionate, like the sex he described to her earlier.

Emma pushes them away from the counter, the coffee completely forgotten even as it beeps to signify it’s ready. She’s too busy turning him towards the bedroom and pushing him along, her hands splayed on his shoulders as she finally gets to see the whole deal from behind. Wonderful shoulders and arms, smooth back, great ass.

“I can hear your thoughts, Swan, and thank you for admiring it. I feel like I need to start attending a gym again in order to measure up to yours, though.”

“No way. This is all…” Instead of finishing her thought, she grabs two handfuls of butt and squeezes, laughing as he makes an absolutely undignified noise and spins around. And that view, well, suffice to say she has no complaints at all with his physical appearance, officially speaking. Even half hard as he is, Killian is a shape and size and length that she would consider ideal if she had preferences. But since she really doesn’t, all she takes into account is that he’s growing hard under her stare again and he’s all hers. Just as she’s all his. They haven’t really discussed their status, but one of these days she’s going to introduce him to David and Snow as her boyfriend.

Her face must change in some way because Killian’s moving forward, trailing the backs of his fingers down her arm. “What was that thought you just had, love? Let me into that mind of yours.”

“Do you have objections to me calling you my boyfriend?”

His eyes light up as he smiles, his laughter coming out breathless as he pulls her closer again. “None at all. In fact, I would very much like to call you my girlfriend. Does that meet with your approval?”

She nods, nibbling her lower lip for just a moment before she seals their titles with a kiss. Then, she makes good on her earlier direction, walking him backwards to the bed until he’s sitting on the edge with her in his lap.

-x-

There’s a goddess straddling his lap right now and Killian Jones has not a single complaint in the world. Had you asked him three months ago if he ever imagined what Emma Swan looked like in the throes of passion, he’d have politely walked away from the question and changed topics, even if he secretly had dreamt this moment once or twice.

What makes it even better is that she’s seen him fully bared and didn’t walk away – and that’s more than just a reference to his current state of nudity. He and Emma have slowly coaxed all the scars for the both of them into the light. And maybe that’s why he’s feeling so light-headed as she slides back down onto his cock. It’s either that or the fact that he’s managed to stave off a second climax for this long and there’s no longer any blood left for his brain to function.

She is so much more than goddess – she is siren and ethereal. She is otherworldly in all the best ways, and in all the other best ways she is entirely human. Her flaws are simple and understandable, her emotions guarded for the right reasons to start. Seeing the slow transition to where they are today has been one of the most fulfilling adventures of his life. And now, with her perfectly imperfect body, she is loving him, though there’s not a chance in hell that he’d call it that right now. That’s still down the road a ways.

His focus narrows and broadens with each time she moves, his mind wholly focused and unfocused on the clasp of her body, the grip of her hands, the quickness of her breath as they chase closer to release. He could watch her riding him all day and never tire of it, he’s sure, and he already can’t wait for the next time when he gets to taste and explore every inch of her body at his leisure.

The thought alone has him gripping her hip a little tighter, urging her moves as he finds leverage to thrust up into her. He falls back to the bed, his feet still on the floor but from this position he can meet her movements to benefit both of them.

“Touch yourself, love. Come with me,” he gasps out, and she slides one hand to where they’re joined, hitting just above where he’s hard and aching at this point with each circular movement. As she starts to shudder in his arms, she presses down against him, her hand anchoring in his chest hair and tugging just to the point of pain but causing him to tumble over the edge with her.

If he thought coming in his pajamas earlier was messy, this is a whole different variety of one. They’re both sweaty, and he can feel his release sliding back down his shaft as he softens. He sits up, shifting so he slips out entirely. He shudders at the loss of her warmth, at the aftershocks of the orgasm, but he focuses on drawing her closer so he can kiss her.

“You’re bloody brilliant,” he utters, watching the smile light up her whole face even though she looks like she could use a few more hours of sleep after that. At her eyes fluttering closed a few times, he can’t help the comment from escaping. “Now who’s the one who needs a nap?” He gracefully accepts the pinch she gives to his side, chuckling as she leans forward and places a kiss to the side of his neck.

“Both of us, I’m betting,” she finally says. Still, she moves off his lap, steadying herself with a hand on Killian’s shoulder while the other pushes her hair back from her face.

“Swan, if you kiss me again, we’ll never leave the bed for the rest of the day.”

“Fair point. I’m going to your bathroom, and then I’m going to rummage through your kitchen and find us food.”

He nods, biting his lip and tipping his chin towards the door, resting back on his elbows as she raises her eyebrows at him and breezes out the door.

Okay, so all he desperately wants to do is collapse back onto the bed and sleep for days after two orgasms in such a short amount of time, but he figures they can nap after they’ve had some breakfast. Henry gets home from school right around three and that means the whole day stretches before them with no interruptions but their own.

From that day forward, it’s settled. They are dating, in a committed relationship, more than courting or “talking” – they are boyfriend and girlfriend, which sounds so mislabeled when they are both over 30. Henry is delighted when they share the news, specifically because now he doesn’t have to struggle to explain that Killian is their neighbor who may or may not be dating his mom. Maybe. Sort of. But not really. Now, Henry goes around telling everyone about his mom’s boyfriend, Killian, who lives down the hall from them.

And so they all fumble through it:

It’s two weeks later that Killian meets David and Snow, with Emma tugging on his arm and leading him to the farm house that Henry has already disappeared into.

“Your brother isn’t going to give me some protective dad speech, is he?”

“He better not. First off, you’re older than he is. Second, you’re the first man I’ve dated for longer than two weeks since before I moved here. And third, if he does, I’ll beat him up.”

“Somehow, I don’t doubt that, love.”

She spins on him before they get to the front porch, pushing up on her toes to kiss him, something heady and wonderful, sweet and sensual at the same time.

And so that’s how he first meets David, with Killian’s tongue just ghosting Emma’s lips and his hand just a touch too low on her hip. David clears his throat, causing Emma to spring away and turn to the door.

“Hi! Sorry, we were just…” But she can’t finish the statement, because what would she say? We were just making out like teenagers outside while you were waiting for us to walk in? Not bloody likely.

“Uh huh,” is all David says with a wry grin, his arms crossed across his chest as he leans against the door frame. Then his lips slowly quirk up and he shakes his head, motioning them inside. It’s April, but there’s still a bite in the air and Killian is eager to get out of the chill. He urges her forward and takes her hand again, trailing only a little behind her in trepidation.

Anything he worried about was all for naught. David is a little chilly towards him at first, but over the course of the evening, they find quite a few topics in common and he’s in the middle of a rant about American football versus actual football when he catches Emma staring at them. Snow leans over and whispers something as David is replying his own thoughts, and Emma laughs softly at whatever was said to her. He catches her eye and winks at her before turning back to the conversation.

They dive in even further when Henry asks what the big deal is. He and David both go on the attack with that one, and it takes roughly three minutes before Henry is sorry he asked, but it’s already too late – they’re going to educate him on all the intricacies if they have to.

By the end of the evening, Snow has packed up enough leftovers to last the three of them for days, somehow, and hugged him so hard he may have felt one of his organs shift. David gives him a handshake and promises to drop by the bar sometime, clapping Killian on the shoulder once as they turn to leave.

It’s like another piece falling into place. Over a decade in Storybrooke and Killian could barely string together three words to say to any one person in the whole town. Now, suddenly, he has a girlfriend, and David and Snow could be… friends. And there’s Henry, who – heavens above, let him not jinx it – if this all keeps lasting, could be his step-son.

They’re back in their building, walking down the hallway hand in hand with Henry in front of them when Killian suddenly stops at the very thought, and Emma turns to look at him, her face pinching in concern.

“You okay?”

“Of course, love. Just couldn’t remember something I put on my list for tomorrow.”

There’s a joke on the tip of her tongue about him forgetting anything because she constantly says he’s worse than an elephant as far as memory goes, but instead she just kisses him. “You wanna stay at mine tonight?”

“Are you sure?”

“Killian, do you really need to ask if she’s sure ten times before you finally come inside?”

Henry is still six months away from 13 but that certainly doesn’t stop him from acting like a cheeky teenager whenever he feels like it.

“Besides,” the boy continues, “if you’re asking because of me, I’m pretty sure you don’t have to tiptoe around that anymore. You’re mom’s boyfriend. Even though you live right there, you’re still allowed to come spend the night.”

“Thanks, Henry,” Emma says flatly, an incredulous smile on her face. “What he said.”

Forward they move again, that summer, when the admissions finally happen. Honestly, Killian would’ve told her sooner – he’d known he loved her shortly after Christmas – but there was always that fear and anxiety that it would all go wrong. So he waits, and waits, and waits, all the while hoping she’ll say it first so he can know it’s okay to finally tell her. But then it happens on its own.

During the summer, they plan two mini-vacations. One is for the three of them, where Emma, Henry, and Killian all load up into Emma’s Volkswagen Bug and drive it down to Boston. If they have more time before school starts for Henry, they’ll do it again down to New York City, just a quick weekend with hit-it-and-quit-it tourism, as Emma calls it (though not in front of Henry).

The second mini-vacation, while Henry spends two solid weeks with his dad, is for only a few days of that seemingly long time. So while a majority of the time spent without their third partner in crime consists of cleaning and working, there are four beautiful days and three memorable nights that they spend at a fancy bed and breakfast just a few miles south of Storybrooke. They’ll never admit it to Granny, but they’d stay all the time if they could.

On the second night, after dinner and watching the stars appear above the horizon, they retire to their room. While Killian is in the bathroom, he can hear Emma moving about the room, and he hears her speaking in low tones to someone before the door shuts more audibly than it opened. While he washes his hand and takes his time, he still walks into the main room with a skeptical look on his face. He clears his throat while Emma faces the dresser and fusses with something. She jumps when he calls to her attention, and when she turns she has a hidden guilty smile.

“I know you didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, but…” As she shifts out of the way, there’s a small cake for two sitting there beside plates and forks. She has a lighter in her hand, just about to light the candles, it appears. “Happy birthday, babe.”

He chuckles and shakes his head, wandering over to grasp her hip and kiss her, intent on trying to figure out how to pass over his heart for safe keeping. Which is why he isn’t quite expecting the words that come out of his own mouth. “I love you, Swan.” He’d meant to say thank you, thank you.

They both pause, and he keeps his eyes closed for a moment, praying that when he opens them it’ll all be fine, that he’ll not have royally fucked it all up. He can feel the way she’s stopped breathing for that same moment, her chest pushed against his and not moving for whole heartbeats, and it’s just as his eyes open that the breath whooshes out of her and she swoops back in, dropping the lighter in her haste to get her hands on him.

It’s clear in the way she hesitates, throws herself more into the kiss than into saying anything back, that she’s not ready. He understands, he understands so well that he pulls back for a heartbeat to tell her that she doesn’t have to say it until she’s ready, if and when she feels the same way he does. She nods, a smile cresting over her lips as she kisses him one last time. They both bask in and shake off the moment, something else to be celebrated later on when they climb the tiny steps to their massive four-poster. Emma refocuses them on the cake, struggling for a few seconds to locate the lighter.

“It’s Italian rum, no almonds. Just the way you like it,” she explains as she finally finds the lost item and turns back to it. With a little click, she starts the flames on the candles and lifts it up. “I’d sing happy birthday but you’re too old for that shit.”

At that, Killian throws back his head and laughs. “You’ll pay for that later, love. For now, let me see what I might wish for when I’ve a beautiful woman in my room.” He gives her a teasing look, letting his eyebrows lift and play for a minute before he looks back to the cake.

He thinks hard, and wishes with all his might, that this will continue, that she loves him back, that she’ll consider this an arrangement for the rest of their lives. Because he has officially entered a state where he cannot imagine living without her by his side. He wishes…. he wishes that they’ll consider moving in together in the upcoming years, and he wishes that they’ll talk of marriage and see how the other feels. And maybe, if it’s in the stars for them, Emma will also want to continue their family and consider having her implant out.

All of it he wishes for, but knows that if she only loves him back, there’s nothing else he could ask for beyond her companionship from now until forever. And that’s the thought he has in his mind when he blows out the candles.

The rest of their vacation can only be described as blissful, even as they eat breakfast with strangers and sometimes have to convince the other that they should do more than spend the whole day in bed. They do plenty of that, too, but they manage to wander the little town enough that they feel it wasn’t wasted time someplace new.

It’s not always perfect, by any means. They fight, they argue, they disagree. But they make sure to talk it out as much as possible for two people with communication problems. Henry goes through his teenage rebellion phase, but in how he acts or how he handles chores rather than smoking or stealing porno mags from the corner store. But they take all the imperfections, the sarcasm, the sometimes-unavoidable attitude by talking or laughing or making it up to each other, and that’s what really matters to all three of them.

-x-

She has to admit, when Killian told her he loves her on vacation, her heart actually stuttered in her chest. She hasn’t stopped thinking about the way he said the words that night. He says them occasionally, just to say them to her, without expecting anything in response. And at this point, it’s almost embarrassing that she hasn’t said it back. If they’ve been dancing around each other since Christmas, it’s been ten months since this all began – next week is her birthday – and it’s been four months since her boyfriend declared his love for her.

He is so patient and giving that she almost can’t believe that this whole thing is hers.

For her and Henry’s combined birthdays, they have a party out at David and Snow’s house, with friends she’s made over the years and people Killian has come to know, as well. It’s somewhere among the friendly laughter and warmth that doesn’t leave her limbs for the entirety of it that she decides she’s going to tell Killian as soon as they get a moment alone tonight.

Until then, they mingle and chat, enjoying the antics of the kids and adults alike. She rests her head on his shoulder while his arm slips around her back, his hand playing with the ends of her hair as they chat with their friends.

Despite being a brand-new teenager, Henry isn’t the least bit embarrassed to be ushered inside at the end of the night by both Emma and Killian. He’s barely awake, his eyes struggling to stay open, and Emma gently guides him away from walls and obstacles as they make their way inside. It’s only after he’s tucked away in his room, quiet snores disappearing behind the door that Emma closes, that she moves immediately to her almost equally tired boyfriend in the bedroom.

He’s already changed, his brace off and resting on the nightstand as he settles into the bed. Emma crawls across her empty side in order to kiss him, making sure she has his full attention before she smiles at him. “I love you.” The words are so easy to say after all this time that she wonders why she couldn’t say them sooner, but the look on Killian’s face is worth the wait.

“I love you, Swan.” He pulls her close again to kiss her once more before she shifts away to get ready for bed.

A month and a half later, their lives are in upheaval as they try to decorate for Christmas, but no one can seem to find anything amidst the mess. Of course, that’s what happens when you combine two households into one just before the holidays.

“I can’t find my tree,” Killian says, exasperation showing through as he lifts box after box in their basement. They have a basement. And three bedrooms. They already set up the big tree in the living room, decorations and all because the storage spaces were the last things they emptied and the first things that came into the house. But while Emma thought Killian’s decorations were also in his storage space, they’ve gone through everything twice and can’t seem to find them.

“Don’t worry, we’ll find it,” Emma says soothingly when he almost throws one of the boxes of Henry’s books. She reaches out and actually grabs his arm, moving close to kiss his clothed shoulder. Killian looks so crestfallen, and she takes his hand and leads him back upstairs.

It’s after he goes to work for the evening that she heads back downstairs and starts carefully sorting through the boxes still left over. Old clothes from her, books of Henry’s, kitchen items that they didn’t need doubles of… Each box is put into a pile until Emma finally unearths a box from Killian’s apartment. It’s labeled simply as “MISC” and he may have completely missed it beneath the other boxes, so she opens it to make sure.

When Killian shakes her awake when he gets home, he’s smiling softly, the expression on his face lit only by the small tree she found and set up. Henry’s star is front and center, and he looks so relieved to see it all that she can see as plain as day that he loves her son. Surely, the thought has passed through her mind before, but to see how much he cares about it – not to mention that the star is what started all of this – is something lovely.

“Thank you, love. I don’t know how you found it, but thank you.”

He kisses her gently, resting on the edge of the couch next to her, his hand in her hair and she finds his hook with her hand.

“Something I don’t think I’ve told you before, but when I woke up the morning after we met and you weren’t on my couch, I really thought that was going to be the end of it. I thought we would go back to being awkward neighbors who never spoke again.”

Emma pushes herself into a sitting position, throwing her legs over Killian’s lap as he settles fully on the couch. “But I just ran down the hall to get coffee.”

“Aye, but I didn’t know that at the time. And then you invited me over to have pizza, but I still didn’t think it was going to lead to anything further.”

“And then we barged in the next night with bags of Christmas decorations.”

“That you did, Swan. Fell in love with you a little bit more even then. You were already working on my heart only hours after our formal introductions.”

“That sounds about right,” she murmurs as she strokes along his jaw, watching his eyes flutter closed at the contact. When he opens them again, he’s staring at her with an intensity she can almost feel in her bones. “Henry named our mission, by the way. Operation Killian’s Christmas Miracle. He just couldn’t stand the thought of you down the hall by yourself with only one little star hung up on the wall.”

“You both were my Christmas miracle.”

“I’m sad now that Henry’s out of the age where he makes handmade ornaments, since technically that’s what started everything.” Killian’s eyebrow jumps a little, his lips pressing together to suppress a smile of some kind. He reaches up to scratch behind his ear and that’s the final tell; he’s hiding something from her.

“Aye, I probably would’ve wanted a few more for the collection,” is all he replies. She lets it ride. He doesn’t keep anything from her, so the need for secrecy must have something to do with a Christmas gift or else he would’ve told her already.

When she gets home from work on the eve of Christmas Eve, she gets to see exactly what was going on. There are little ornaments strung throughout the whole downstairs, both with Killian and Henry’s handwriting all over them, and they’re both trying to get something hung up by the fireplace – her weed of a teenager and Killian stretching his arm so high that his shirt has come untucked to show part of his side – so intently that they don’t even hear her come in until she swings the door shut. They both whirl around, and Emma can see the small form still dangling from Killian’s hand.

The wind from the door movement and what followed her inside hits against what she previously thought were just shapes with writing on them, so they flutter back and forth and Emma’s eyes go wide. The writing, it turns out, is dates and locations – landmarks and milestones for the three of them individually and together. The other side has photos filling the shape; they are all handmade ornaments of all the major things that have happened in their lives.

There’s Henry’s birth photo, and one of Killian in the Royal Navy. There’s Emma’s induction into the Storybrooke Sheriff Department, with Henry by her side as she smiles. There’s a picture of Killian and Henry taken on Christmas last year, one she didn’t even know existed, with Killian’s hair still long and his beard fuller. She can’t believe how different he looks, but she does still declare she’d have taken him either way.

Pictures of Emma and Killian, Killian and David, Emma and Snow, Emma and Henry and Killian – they’re all represented. Each holiday, each landmark. A picture from Killian’s birthday when they walked along the beach with the inscription of the date and “I love you, Swan” written below it. Another from her own birthday taken from afar of the moment she tucked into his side as they talked, her own words of love adorning the back. There’s one of the three of them when they decided as a unit that it was time to move house – it was pointless to keep walking back and forth down the hallway to spend time at each apartment when they were all together all the time now.

And the ones along the fireplace… those are the ones she sees last, the most important ones, because as she gets closer she can see Killian’s signs of anxiety heighten. Henry’s smile just grows and grows as he watches all of this take place. There are three along the mantel and one in Killian’s hand, and she doesn’t even have to see what’s written on them to know what she’s going to find. Still, she comes all the way into the living room after removing her boots, reaching for Henry first and pressing a kiss to the side of his head and marveling at the way he’s grown even more.

She moves to stand in front of Killian, taking his hand even as he drops to one knee, and she waits as patiently as she can for him to finish the question before blurting out her answer, but it’s a close thing.

-x-

On Christmas day, earlier than when he and Emma would’ve first held hands, she settles into his arms once more while they sneak in a movie before Henry leaves to spend the rest of the day with his father. It’s something he may have asked for as a growing teenager with a sensitivity to spend holidays with both sides of his family, or it could have something to do with two nights ago. Killian once thought that, on the rare occasion something bright happened in his life, it was only temporary.

But not all things are so temporary. The ring resting on Emma’s finger only proves further that sometimes, if you’re patient enough, it lasts.

[hope-for-olicity]

Fictober18 #20 - “I hope you have a speech prepared.”

This is today’s entry for fictober. I’m going to try to post a short story every day during October based on a quote provided by the organizer of Fictober18. All stories will be from Arrow based on the Olicity Fandom.  

Today’s quote is “I hope you have a speech prepared.” I’m going back to the storyline I used for 14, 15, 16 and 18. This is set during the Oliver and Felicity wedding reception. And I must warn you it’s super mushy - even for me! Also available on AO3.

They decided to have a small wedding with just close friends and family as guests. The reception was in the back room of a lovely Italian restaurant that was one of their favourites. It was decorated with fairy lights and candles throughout the room. Felicity’s eyes welled up when she entered the room.

Oliver kissed Felicity on the cheek. “Happy tears, I love you so much.” He knew without a doubt that he was the luckiest man alive. Oliver had never been so sure about anything in his life as marrying Felicity.

“Oliver, we’re married.” She said it with a sense of reverence. “My dreams have come true.”

*****

“I hope you have a speech prepared,” Felicity whispered in Oliver’s ear at their wedding reception. She got up, walked to a small podium. The room was small enough not to require a microphone.

“Hi, I’m Felicity Smoak Queen, the bride.” She waved hello, the guests chucked. “Thank you all so much for coming to spend this day with us. I will tell you what I told my husband moments ago, today, my dreams came true. It’s funny because I didn’t know this was a dream of mine until I learned Oliver was an option. I guess he is the only man for me. I’m so happy he picked me.” She blew Oliver a kiss. “You see I was never that girl dreaming of weddings, husbands and babies. Truthfully, as Oliver knows, I was doing just fine on my own. But then I found out that Oliver was an option. I think we all know he’s hot - really you should see those abs!” More laughter from the guests. “But what you may not know is that is the best person I know. He is kind, generous and oh so patient. He listens to me talk - on and on because talking is one of my specialities. For that alone, he deserves a round of applause but what I’d really like to do is thank him. I want to thank him for making me a priority, for loving me and for always having my back. To the rest of you, I hope you find your happily ever after whatever it is.”

The room erupted into applause. Felicity turned to go back to her seat and saw her husband with tears in his eyes. “Happy tears,” he whispered in her ear.

“You don’t have to speak, I was only teasing.” Felicity leaned in so he could hear her.

“No, I have to follow that.” Oliver winked at her. “Go, take a seat, drink some wine.”

“I’m so glad I married you.” Felicity smiled and returned to her seat.

“My wife, everyone.” The guests clapped again. “I’m not really sure how to follow that other than to tell you I love my wife and I’m so so glad she picked me. For the record, I do love listening to her talk. She talks about interesting things, it doesn’t hurt that the sound of her voice comforts me. She may have been fine without me but me, I’m lost without her. She’s my north star. Felicity has made me a better man. Her perspective on the world gives me hope. Her passion for life makes it worth living. Some people teased me about today, saying I was an old man to be getting married. I’m not.” The guests laughed. “I’m actually really glad I’m getting married now. I know just how special and significant this relationship is.” Oliver turned to look at his wife. “I love you. I love you. I love you. I will spend the rest of my life showing you this. I’m grateful for every moment we had together in the past and all those that are coming the future.” He turned back to the guest. “Please raise your glasses, to my wife Felicity.”

“To Felicity,” the room said in chorus.

Oliver walked back to his wife. He would never get tired of remembering the were now married. “How did I do?”

“I think you might get lucky.” Felicity smiled up at her husband. He leaned down to steal a quick kiss she willingly gave away.

“Too late, there is no might about it. As long as you are with me, I have nothing but luck.” Oliver beamed at his wife.

“I don’t deserve you, Oliver.” Felicity stroked her husband’s scruff.

“You’re right. You deserve better. But I’m glad you chose me anyway.” Oliver looked around at their guest then back to Felicity. “Do you think we can leave? I think I need some alone time with my wife.”

Felicity chuckled. “Not quite yet, mister. I think you have to dance with me and say hello to some of the guests first.”

“But after that?” Oliver looked hopeful.

“Oliver, I love you. I promise I’ll let you take me home as soon as it’s respectable. We don’t want people to talk, do we? Plus, you married me remember?” Felicity wiggled her ring finger in front of his face flashing her wedding band. “We have lots of time.”

Oliver heard their song starting. “May I have this dance?” Oliver extended his hand.

Felicity took her husband’s hand, letting him lead her to the dance floor. She sighed as she fell into his arms. Right, where she was supposed to be.

Oliver loved holding his wife in his arms as they danced. He leaned down so she could hear him, “Felicity, I will cherish every moment with you but I will always want more time. I’m selfish like that.”

Felicity turned her head to find her husband’s lips. “Me too.”

Hope you enjoyed. I’m going to tag a few people. Let me know if you want to be tagged or untagged!

@mindramblingsfics @memcjo @mel-loves-all @wherethereissmoak @green-arrows-of-karamel @spaztronautwriter @wrldtravler @tdgal1 @vaelisamaza @oliverfel4 @lucyyh @swordandarrow @smoaking-greenarrow @it-was-a-red-heeler @miriam1779 @coal000 @blondeeoneexox  @laurabelle2930 @loutendiena @oliverandhisqueen @crys4728

[kaylaarann]

Rules: tag 10 people you want to know better.

I was tagged by @youbuildmeupbeliever - Thanks, Morgz! 💙

Highlight the truths about you: (I then made copy and pasting so much harder by adding caption to everything because i’m cruel and unnecessary like that ;)

I am 5'7 or taller (killing it at 5′5)

I wear glasses (24/7)

I have at least one tattoo (my father would kill me, I live vicariously through others)

I have at least one piercing (two..)

I have blonde hair (Never have, never will)

My abs are somewhat defined (PAH!)

I have or have had braces (My teeth are very good to me)

I love meeting new people (Always!)

People tell me I’m funny (Quiet often, I strive to be the clown.)

I enjoy physical challenges (Hahahaha, no.)

I enjoy mental challenges (All kinds)

I’m playfully rude to people I know well (Of course)

I started to say something ironically, now I can’t stop saying it (... so many things, bae. Like seriously, cobber. Maaaaate, legit.)

There is something I would change about my personality (its all round not too bad, but everyone wants to better themselves.)

I can play an instrument (I can play riffs from four songs on a gutair, i can play one hand of several songs on piano and I hit drums in something that resembols an on time beat...)

I can sing well (Fairly well, yes.)

I can do 30 pushups without stopping (Can do like 3 and I’m out.)

I’m a fast runner (Used to be the fastest in my school as a kid, things change.)

I can draw well (Quite well, yes. I have many hidden talents... just i work in Real Estate - I’ll do something more exhilarating with my life one day, I’m sure.)

I have a good memory (When it comes to trivial factoids, fantastic memory. Remembering I had to be somewhere 10 minutes ago... not so great.)

I’m good at doing maths in my head (I’m good at doing Cole in my head.)

I can hold my breath underwater for over a minute (I’m a people, not a fish.)

I have beaten at least two people in an arm wrestle (I beat most people... I’m easily offened when I don’t.)

I know how to cook at least 3 meals from scratch (I’m from an Italian family... I feel i would be disowned if I couldn’t.)

I can throw a punch (Couldn’t take one though...)

I have learned a new song in the past week (I find new songs like everyday... I’m weirdly in love with MIC Drop - BTS (Ft. Desiigner) [Steve Aoki Remix] at the moment - Even though I’m first and foremost a Metal head.)

I’ve gone running at least one week in the summer (I don’t understand the question, but running and I don’t mix... my breasts are far too large for that business.)

I work out at least once a week (Gotta take my pupper for walks or he goes all gump-old-man on me.)

I have drawn something in the last month (I am going to two pieces for my two best friends new babies for Christmas, but been too involved in writing to be drawing.)

I enjoy writing (Why yes, yes I do. You should probably read Tempting Fate if you’re a Bughead fan.)

I have done martial arts (Taekwondo)

I have had my first kiss (Many years ago.)

I have watched an entire season of a TV show in one sitting (I have done that for a few shows... I’m obsessive and don’t value my sleep enough)

I have had alcohol (Like.. today? Nahhh, its only 10:15am. But yes.)

I have scored a winning goal in sports (Ye’!)

I have been to an overnight event (I used to have a fab social life before I started wrighting... hah.)

I have been in a taxi (I have, but more often I AM the taxi.)

I have been in hospital/er in the past year (To visit, but not for myself.)

I have beaten a video game in one day (Close, but not quite.)

I have visited another country (America, Japan and Indonesia... PS. I live is Australia.)

I have been to one of my favorite band’s concert (YES! Soundwave gave the goods for years! - That’s a rock/metal music festival, it’s gone now... and that honestly breaks my heart. Favorite band: A Day to Remember, have seen them in concert 4 times.)

I have at least one person I consider a best friend (I have about 5... My bestest friend is my Rawni, though.)

I live close to my school (....I’m 23. I USED to live about a 10 minutes drive from my school... Then when I was at TAFE and then University I lived like 2 minutes away. THE MORE YOU KNOW.)

My parents are still together (26 years now 💙 )

I have at least one sibling (One older sister, Anastasia... yeah, she got the cool name. Fun fact: My name is actually Michaela Anne Ierace.) 

I live in the US (Nope, in the south west corner of Western Australia. #I’m from the Southside.)

There is snow right now where I live (I have never seen snow in my entire life.)

I have hung out with friends in the past month (I live with 3 of my friends... and my boyfriend... and our three dogs. Hard not to see them!)

I have a smartphone (Iphone 6S incase you were curious.)

I have at least 15 CD’s (I have hundreds... but that has nothing on my boyfriends collection.)

I share my room with someone (My darling boyfriend, Dylan.)

I have a crush on a celebrity (... Um. Cold Sprouse. Crushing hard just like I was at 14.)

I have a crush on someone I know (Unless my boyfriend counts, but I doubt it.)

I have been in at least 3 relationships (Indeed...)

I have asked someone out or admitted my feelings to them (All the time, gotta spread the love.)

I get crushes easily (On people like Cole, yes. But otherwise not so much.)

I have had a crush for over a year (I’ve had a crush on Cole for like 10 years.)

I have been in a relationship for over a year (Almost two years now.)

I have had feelings for a friend (Hasn’t everyone..?)

I have break danced (I’m sure that would be amusing to see...)

I know a person called Jamie (Like 10 of them. Fun fact: My uncle Jamie’s wifes name is Jaymie. Crazy right?)

I have made a new friend in the past year (I make new friends all the time :D)

I have had a teacher with a last name hard to pronounce (... many. I was that teacher at one point... (studied teaching for a few years))

I have dyed my hair (Like ten times a year.)

I have broken a bone (Never. I’m too cautious, I have no pain threshold.)

I am listening to a song on repeat right now (I get hung up on songs easily.)

I have punched someone in the past week (I’m not that violent of a person... all the time)

I have known someone who has gone to jail (Friends of Friends.)

I have eaten a waffle today (I havn’t eaten a waffle in like 2 years.)

I know what to do with my life (More or less, it’s going well enough at the moment)

I speak at least two languages (I speak english... a bit of italian but not fluently and even less, but like 10 words of indonesian.)

 I honestly down think a single person is going to read all that...

I don’t even know 10 people on Tumblr, lets just go with people I enjoy popping up on my feed: @bughead @paperlesscrown @mothermaple @thugheadjones @riverdalesource @bugheadcentral …that’s all I got right now :O

[jjkookie07]

Always and Forever- Chapter 6

Jungkook x Reader ( Mayze) warlock x vampire AU

genre: Angst x Fluff x Smut

Chapter 5 Chapter 7

January 4th 2018

-Hoseok and Momo

"Are you going to follow me the whole day?" She stopped in the middle of the road and moved her head to look over her shoulder. Hoseok then appeared behind her with a displeased look on his face.  " Why are you back, Momo? Where's your pack?" He asked in a loud voice. She turned around to face him. Her legs were slightly parted and her arms were crossed in front of her chest. Her brown hair was braided on the side of her head. The view was breathtaking to him.  "They were killed by some dark witch. I ran away and where else to be safe than with family" She showed him a polite forced smile. " Stop following me, your wife would be mad if she finds you drooling after another woman."  "She doesn't care. She is with the witch" He clenched his fists at the thought of her being with him. His dominant personality was taking control and all he ever desired was to murder him.  "Jungkook?! That's unexpected." She couldn't deny the pain that was growing in her chest at the thought of him using her. She stared at him for what felt like ages. She still had his touch imprinted on her skin, his words were vivid in her ears. She remembered the nights they spent on the mountain and the cities he took her to visit. How used to dance under the full moon not having a care in the world. "I missed you" His voice finally pulled her away from the memories. Only once in life, he truly believed, he would find someone who can completely turn his world around. He told her things that he never shared with another soul and she absorbed everything. She knew his fears and his goals, she knew him inside out and it pained her to see him this lost. She wanted to help but she believed there was no room for her back in his life. And she couldn't be more wrong.

 "Maybe some things are not meant to stay in our life forever. Maybe they come just to help us heal the old wounds then leave." She said lowering her head.  "Are you talking about yourself or Mayze? Because let me tell you this. Neither you or her helped me heal, you both created deeper wounds; you for leaving me behind and Mayze for saying so easily that she loves me when she never meant it." Hoseok fired back "I never wanted to leave you but I had no choice. It may sounds like an excuse but it's the truth." She looked at him. He didn't change, his eyes were as beautiful as she knew them. She wanted to touch his face, his lips, that soft lips she missed so much.  "Look, I'm glad you came back. What happened to your pack is terrible. If I'll ever cross paths with that witch I'll make her pay. " She smiled hearing those words and it suddenly brought up memories of how they used to protect each other. She wanted to make him happy again and this time forever.

 January 4th 2018

-Jungkook and Mayze

 Jungkook continued mixing the ingredients but his mind couldn't help but wonder if the witch did her job. Maybe she didn't since Mayze didn't say anything about that. Few hours later his door open and his heart skipped a beat knowing who the intruder was.  "I got you some dinner" She walked closer and placed a kiss on his lips and made her way towards the kitchen to bring a plate.  "Jungkook!" She screamed making him drop the potion bowl and run towards the kitchen. His face showed concern and he looked towards the wall she was looking too. There was a snake biting its tail and that could only mean one thing: death.  "What the hell!" he exclaimed and pulled her closer, pressing her body against his . "Why is that showing here?" She asked and Jungkook grabbed the plate with the food and pulled her out of the kitchen and upstairs. She sat on his huge bed and looked at his worried face as he picked up a piece of meat to eat. "It's not just here baby" He said sitting next to her "There were 3 other cities around the world that reported to have seen this sign on old buildings." She suddenly stood up."We have to find you another place then!" He let out a raspy laugh making her stomach flip and her heart beat like crazy.  "It's going to be fine. I like this place, it's vintage". He chuckles and placed his knees on each side of her hips pushing her to lay on the bed as he started kissing her neck trying to distract her from what she has seen,

She touched him on his arm, and then he pulled her closer kissing her neck with a hunger he didn't know he had. She moved forwards, wrapping her arms around his neck, when he looked at her, her eyes were zooming from his eyes to his lips and back. He grabbed her hips and gently pulled their bodies together, and she bit her lip eagerly. Then he pressed his warm and soft lips against her cold, marble lips. They shared a few more kisses before he pulls away. He looked at her and he was mesmerized by her beauty. Her skin was almost without pigment and her hair the most beautiful shade of blonde possible. And he'd never seen such dark eyes with so much light in them. He hold her hand and placed a soft kiss on it. He was in love with her more then he could imagine. He'd sold his soul for her or give up his magic just to know her safe.

She caressed his cheek and pressed her lips flat against his plump ones. She loved the taste of him and she always craved for more. Her hands wrapped around his lower back and bringing his pelvis to meet hers. The friction was not enough though. Just as she was about to undo the first button of her chemise a loud scream could be heard from outside. Jungkook's fingers dig into her skin and all movement stopped. Both their eyes snapped and his head moved towards the window. "Stay here" He whispered and stood up walking to see what was happening outside. "Oh my..." He turned to her " We have to talk to your dad."

 Januray 5th 2018

"Be hole, be dust, be dream, be wind/Be night, be dark, be wish, be mind,/Now slip, now slide, now move unseen,/Above, beneath, betwixt, between." Jungkook threw the stones in the potion and they melted as soon as they touched the liquid. It was dark and Namjoon liked it, somehow making him feel home. Jungkook turned around and threw the potion on a canvas provided my Mayze. The potion was absorbed and started turning into some words. "Mors reptans tardius vestris per venas sanguine extinguitur." Jungkook read the words and his eyes widden."It means death flows through your veins". Namjoon took the canvas and smiles. "I am going to hang it in my living room" Jungkook's eyes turned dark and he moved his hand, ripping it from Namjoon's hands. "This is not a joke. Those words are a curse that a very powerful witch made and it was to kill vampires. I think you know about her." Jungkook spoke and Namjoon turned around, his eyes turning red. "You tried to be funny because you pissed the witch and she is back. There are some covens that are worshipping the witch. I can get you a map." Jungkook continued. "Why do you care so much about what I did?" Namjoom asked. "Because Mayze is a vampire and she can die too if you don't wake up and stop pretending this is a game. It's not! " Jungkook fired back yelling at the vampire only to fly across the room with a bleeding mouth when Namjoon punched him "Don't tell anyone."

Jungkook was shocked trying to process what just happened. He had his doubts about Namjoon but now he was sure; he could never trust this vampire. He stood up and looked the Namjoon. " I can still curse you and let you die in excruciating pain, but I don't want to lose Mayze. Note my words, vampire, I still can end your life by making you mortal again." Namjoon looked at the young boy surprised. " The only person who said that was the witch I killed a long time ago. I always wanted to ask. Who are you, young warlock ? " "Curiosity killed the cat" said Jungkook. " It's none of your business who I am. "

"And you punched him because he was triggering some form of guilt inside you. Great. Just great. We don't need a witch on our side, don't worry. Want me to pour you some wine?" Seokjin stood up and walked out of the room. In a second Namjoon was in front of him. "I don't want you to be mad at me" He spoke softly. "Then control your anger. It's okay to feel sorry for what you did before, for what we did before." Seokjin placed a hand on his husband's cheek and pressed his mouth against his in a short kiss. "Mayze is going to be furious. Good luck with that" He pushed past Namjoon walking out towards Jungkook's place. It was a small old creepy looking house, before he could knock the door opened itself and he stepped inside. "Jungkook?" He called as his eyes studied the room. Shelves with potions and herbs hanging out from the ceiling, it smelt like burnt stone and a bit of mint. "Yes I am here" Jungkook came out from a room that seemed to be the kitchen holding an ice pack on his mouth. "Oh God. I am sorry for what he did. He can be a beast sometimes."  "Why are you here?..." Jungkook cut the vampire. "Tell me about the witch and the spell and how can we stop it" Jungkook placed the icepack on a bowl on the table and opened a map for Seokjin, motioning him to come closer." These words appeared on all these lands . I had some friends that tried it for me. It's all the places he made a community of vampires. She is not here yet but she will be on the first blood moon that is next week. I am trying to find the covens and stop them. Maybe cast a powerful spell to stop magic from happening that night. I can try and reach the ancestors." Seokjin placed a book on the table, it looked old actually antique and as he opened it Jungkook's eyes turned wide. "It was her mother's book. She was powerful, so powerful she was able to make Namjoon have a child" Seokjin whispered. "Does she know? " Jungkook asked slowly touching the book, feeling its power." No, don't tell her yet, let Namjoon do it". "You are asking me to lie to her" Jungkook took his hand away pushing the book away. "I will think about it"

 "I can't lie to her. Namjoon must tell her as soon as possible. Her mother is considered a traitor for loving a vampire and giving birth to his child." Jungkook said at the same time Namjoon came inside the room. "I will tell her but I'm sure she already must figure out. I'm going to give her the letter her mother left." He was looking at Jungkook."I apologize for my earlier actions. Jungkook, I want to ask you a favor. Please never leave her side. Since the moment you came in her life she changed. She is the old and bright Mayze I used to know.”

[thoughtsfromparis]

I Just Had Surgery and It Was Pretty Fun, Actually • Part One

I couldn’t have been more excited the day of the operation.

Well, not this excited.

Only once had I been cut up before, and it was for this laser eye surgery vision thing. It’s not exactly the biggest deal. The doctor doesn’t make you wear a gown with the open fanny area. You’re not doped up with medical grade opiates. You can wear your business suit during the procedure. You open your eye lids, hold still for 20 seconds, and congrats, you now have eagle vision. You’re back in your cubicle by lunch.

I remember thinking after that procedure, “Well, gee, I hope my next surgery is more thrilling.” Maybe I’d be lucky and get my hand chopped off in a lumber mill accident and have to get a cadaver hand sewn on. (I don’t work in a lumber mill, but a boy can dream, no?) What if the donor’s hand was more tan than me and the coloring didn’t match at the wrist? Or what if they gave me a woman’s hand because that was the only one in the freezer at the time? What if after the surgery I was at an important business meeting and I went to shake someone’s hand, and my new hand came right off my arm and the other guy stood there shaking an orphaned hand? That would be embarrassing.

As it turns out, my second surgery wasn’t much more exciting than the first. It was just a boring old umbilical hernia surgery. I wish I something way cooler to report. But I don’t. I only had like a 2% chance of death while in the operating room. Snore. I didn’t even bother to update my will beforehand.

So, what is an umbilical hernia and how did I develop one? No idea. I guess it just happens. A natural part of aging, the surgeon told me. I didn’t even bother Googling it after the diagnosis, that’s how boring the thing is. How I found out that I HAD an umbilical hernia is sort of interesting, however. Several months ago I was dating a woman named Maureen and she was staring at my belly button one evening (as women do). All of a sudden Maureen’s face turned sour and scrunched up. I asked her what was wrong. She said, “You have something wrong with your belly button.” I looked down because, well, I wanted to see what she saw.

I’ve probably only looked at my own belly button one other time in my life and that was back in high school when I at a party and poured a shot of Early Times whiskey into it and asked if any girl would care to slurp it out. No takers.

But when I looked down, at now forty years old, to examine my navel for exactly the second time ever, I sort of saw what she was referencing. There was something wrong. My belly button wasn’t totally fucked up or anything. But it wasn’t, well, normal, either. It was misshapen. The best I can explain it without having you retch all over your Pumas is that some of the inside parts started making a dash for it. A move toward the light. To freedom!

Okay, I can’t lie. My belly button will never be as cool as Steve McQueen.

I could have showed 20 of you my belly button at the time and 18 of you would have said, “Dude, you have a really sexy belly button. I mean, aside from the dark hair surrounding it. Wait, aren’t you blonde? Shouldn’t those stomach pubes be lighter?” In other words, to the non-medical professional, it looked no different from the male models gracing the cover of Men’s Health. Well, a little different. Less ab definition. I’m talking about the actual hole. It’s a pretty killer hole, if I do say so myself. And I do. Or rather, I just did.

But now it was less killer. Like an aging Hollywood starlet, it had lost symmetry. And like an aging Hollywood starlet, there was only one reasonable option – surgery.

Oh wait, let me go back to the discovery. I’m not good at linear storytelling.

So, Maureen, being a senior graphic designer at a prestigious advertising agency, knew a fucked-up belly button when she saw one. That previous sentence was meant to be sarcastic, because Maureen had no medical training at all. Her best skill was designing print advertisements for the largest cheese distributor in Utah. A noble skill, but not one that included the hippocratic oath. But since I believe virtually anything anyone tells me, I assumed she knew stuff about hernias.

I started freaking out and ran to the bathroom to see my now-imperfect belly button staring back at me. I yelled over to Maureen to ask why she was confident that I had a hernia. I pressed my right index finger directly into the hole, because I thought hernias were supposed to hurt. I was a little grossed out, but there wasn’t any pain. She replied that her last boyfriend had the same shape in his belly hole and it turned out to be an umbilical hernia. She went with him to the hospital for the procedure. Also, nursed him back to health. She promised she’d do the same for me.

The next day I called a surgeon that knows about this stuff. I walked into his office and fifteen seconds later he confirmed what my ladyfriend had asserted. I had an umbilical hernia. He told me there was nothing I could have done to prevent it and that it was not a big deal. He suggested I get the surgery, but said I didn’t have to do it immediately. I had a suspicion that Maureen was on the verge of dumping me and I wasn’t about to go back out in the dating world with a messed up belly button. It’s hard enough being single. The doctor told me to think about it and I said, “No need. Let’s do it!” He didn’t say so, but he must have been impressed by my decisiveness. It was an act of leadership.

On the way out, I casually mentioned to the surgeon, “Actually, doctor… I’ve had a hernia before. TWO, actually.” He stopped and said, “Oh, really?” And yes, that much IS true. I did have a double hernia once. But, to be honest, I was just showing off. I told him that when I was born the doctors screwed up my mom’s epidural and hit her spine with the needle. It immediately put her in a coma. I was born and hustled off to my two grandmothers while she recovered. And from day one, my two grandmothers put me on human food. A tactical error in hindsight. My dad probably didn’t know any better (I was the first child), and he was probably bummed his wife was in a coma. So, he didn’t notice I got fat pretty quick.

When my mom woke up from the coma a few weeks later and they took her home, I was already obese. A big, fat, disgusting baby. And babies are already disgusting, even when they’re not huge slobs like I was. It was so bad I was raced back to the hospital where the doctors performed an emergency double-hernia surgery on me. The doctor yelled at my mother for letting this happen and said, “I’ve never had to cut through so many layers of fat in a baby before. You ought to be ashamed!”

Funny enough, I’ve never had a weight problem since. I was only fat as a baby. Which is the best possible time to have a weight problem, now that I think about it.

Anyway, after I was done telling this story the doctor laughed. I’m not sure if he believed me, but he clasped his hand on my shoulder and said, “Well, D.J., congrats. You’re about to have a second hernia surgery.” I corrected him and said, “Third.” His mouth started to open to correct me that a double hernia isn’t really two hernia surgeries, but he realized I was just making a joke. He laughed and pointed at me with a look that said, “Good one!”

I left the office and took stock of my emotions. I wasn’t sad. Nor scared. Not even angry. I was kind of excited, actually.

I called Maureen and said, “Remember that thing about my belly button? You were right!” She was in the middle of a cheese video shoot for an Instagram campaign. I told her I’d need a ride to and from the hospital in two weeks. and reminded her of her promise.

My belly button was about to get back to perfect. And, even if Maureen dumped me, I’d once again have a perfect hole and likely a cool scar and we all know chicks dig scars. The only scar I had at the time was a two-incher on my butt where I fell through a glass table in high school. It’s not exactly the kind of scar that you’d call a panty-melter.

I was excited. Who wouldn’t be?

See? Not lying. Excited. And they hadn’t even given me the good drugs yet….

… part II coming up …

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