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leah-bobeea · 4 years ago

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Magazine Girl; Steve Rogers

You ever start writing a fic about a journalist reader at two am who’s eventually gonna end up doing steeb, over his desk, biting down on his expensive leather belt?

❀ ❀ ❀

Warnings: CEO!Steve x Journalist!Reader, Angst, Steve’s a little mean, Bossy Steve, Shy/Anxious reader, Dom!steve, mentions spanking, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, coercion (a little teensy bit), Bad writing lol

Word Count: 3.9k

A/N: Terrible writing w/ a terribly rushed ending. Written on my phone, in my notes app, not beta read, and barely proofread.

❀ ❀ ❀

Yes, your hands were busy. Not busy typing out a rough draft of this stupid article on Steve Rogers, not busy calling his secretary to set up a meeting with the man, or the closest to him you could get, not busy doing their job at all. They were busy tapping your pen against the glass tabletop of your desk, successfully annoying Wanda, who sent you an aggravated look from across the room.

“Seriously, Y/n?” Wanda moved from where she was at her desk, clearly not making a breakthrough on her article for this month's issue either. You could only shake your head in reply. Throwing your head back to stare at the ceiling, you starting explaining. “Maria gave me this huge article, Wanda. Cover! And, trust me, I know she’s testing me and doesn’t think I’ll actually be able to do it so she can fire me, or belittle me, or- or something! I don’t know what to do, help me, bestie.” As you finished rambling you looked up at her with your best puppy dog eyes, hoping for some of that amazing advice she gives.

Wanda laughed and pulled a chair over from an empty desk, sitting down and haphazardly throwing her feet on top of your cluttered tabletop. “She wouldn’t give you an article you couldn’t handle, she loves you, Y/n. If it’s truly as difficult as you’re making it out as that means that she knows you’re ready for it, and you’ll do amazing. Who’s it on anyway?”

She was doing such a good job at easing your nerves until she brought up the topic. You whined high in your throat and threw your head to the side before uttering, “Steven Rogers,” you turned your body back to Wanda, “What more do I need to say?” Her eyes widened just a little. “Sheesh...I’d start making phone calls, and praying, maybe?”

❀ ❀ ❀

“Hello, Miss. Carter, um- this is Y/n L/n with Shield Mag-“ “Please hold, dear.”

You pulled the phone away from your head and let it rest on your naked thigh, quickly pressing the speaker button. It was times like this when you were grateful that you let your grandma convince you to buy a house phone. Peggy Carter was the fifth person you’d contacted trying to get an interview with this man and she was the second lady that humored you enough to at least pretend like she’d get back to you.

She’s his main assistant so you might have better luck this time...

Thirty minutes later you had your head inches off the ground and your toes wiggling in the air. Humming the annoying hold music to yourself, you braided, unbraided, and re-braided a single strand of your hair. At thirty-nine minutes you were ready to give up until you heard a click on the other line.

You scrambled to turn off the speaker and press the phone back to your ear.

“Miss. Carter I was hoping to set up an interview with Mr. Rogers, over the phone, in person, or through email, if that’s possible?” You asked, hopeful that she wouldn’t shoot you down immediately like everyone else.

“Well, Magazine Girl, I only do in person. But I am a very busy man, so I need to know right away, what’s in it for me?” Your breath hitched and you almost fell and cracked your head open from how startled hearing his voice made you. Then, you nearly gave yourself a head rush from how fast you sat up.

“Well, um, Sir, you would get a headlining article, and uh, a cover on the June issue of Shield Magazine. That’s um, that’s if you want a cover- you don’t have to be on the cover if you don’t want to, just the interview would be mentioned on the cover, but-“ His chuckle was gritty and vivid, effective in stopping your babble. “I’ll see you Friday around noon. Goodbye Magazine Girl.” He hung up on you before you could even comprehend anything but that captivating laugh.

You rubbed at your eyes and grabbed your planner and pen. “Friday at noon...”

❀ ❀ ❀

The next day you were back in the office, sitting in Wanda’s stiff chair with twin caramel lattes sitting in front of you. That was the thing about you, you’d come to work early bearing gifts just to tell your closest friend your good news. You’re sweet like that.

When Wanda arrived it was fifteen minutes later and your latte was halfway gone. Hearing her black stilettos click on the glossy linoleum made you perk up immediately. As she approached, you stood, handing her the latte and wrapping your arms around her lithe body.

“I got an interview!” You squealed, rocking your bodies side to side. She stilled you and smiled. “Gosh, that’s great, Y/n. How’d you get it?”

“Well, I called, like everyone, and he picked up, Wanda! he picked up! I’m scheduled for Friday, and my Lord, Wanda, his laugh, it's like honey...” You trailed off, sighing at the thought of him. Your head was rested on her shoulder, a faint smile on your face. “You’ve got a crush on him!” Wanda exclaimed, grabbing your shoulders and holding you an arm's length away to get a good look at your bashful face.

You gasped, “No I do not! That would be totally unprofessional!” The cackle that erupted from her made her sound like the wicked witch of the west. And honestly, under her stare, you felt like Dorothy stuck under that house.

When Wanda was finally done laughing maliciously she let you go, plopping down in her desk chair and sipping her latte. She pointed over and your desk and gave you a look. “Better start drafting those questions... we wouldn’t want you to blank on your crush.” “Wanda!”

❀ ❀ ❀

The days leading up to Friday were excruciatingly long, yet the hours until twelve flew past all too quickly.

It seemed as if your wardrobe was never ending, full of clothes that you deemed inappropriate for a meeting with the CEO of American Enterprises. You threw yourself back onto the bed, hair and makeup done but body still wrapped in a fluffy white towel. “Oh Milky, what am I gonna wear?” The soft white kitty glared at you from the pillow she was perched on, meowing at you aggressively.

Ten thirty blinked on the clock and you sat up, glancing at all of the clothes that were scattered on the floor. “I guess this will do.” You picked up the same emerald blazer you had chosen originally and layered it over some basic Levi’s, and gray low cut blouse flowing over your form. A belt was necessary, so you grazed over your options. Brown wouldn’t go, even though it was your only fancy belt. The only black one you had was old, the leather cracked and worn, but it had to do. You slipped on some pretty black heels, lucky that you painted your toes a similar color to your blouse. After accessorizing you sprayed your signature perfume, the one that got you your first college-aged boyfriend, and the same one that you were wearing when you got your first real job.

By the time you were on the Metro, it was eleven o’ six, and you were worried. If you were late you’d lose this chance, and probably your job. The car stopped around eleven fifteen, giving you fifteen minutes to make your way to the building, check-in, and try to not seem so nervous.

Finding the building wasn’t difficult at all, after all, it is the second biggest building in New York City, competing with Stark Tower. The “A” at the top wasn’t illuminated, but it still stood out against the other buildings, cowering over them.

You found that the doors were heavy and if you denied Wanda of going to those burn boot camps you would have extreme difficulty prying them open. The inside was classy, just as you expected. The lamps had blue shades and the front desk lit up with a design that resembled the American Flag, but with less curved stripes and only one large star.

The receptionist was one of the women who shot you down immediately when you called and was a little surprised when you checked in. “Hello, I’m here for Mr. Rogers, twelve o’clock?” She searched for something on her computer, clearly trying to see if the appointment was legitimate. When you were proven correct, she handed you a temporary security badge and a sharpie to write your name on it. “Have a seat over there when you’re finished. I’ll call for you when Mr. Rogers is ready for you.” She smiled, it was fake, but it helped you feel more comfortable.

The red couch was stiff and small, clearly not meant for long periods of sitting. The badge was clipped onto your blouse, not your blazer, and the weight of it was pulling at the already low cut neckline. You thought about moving it, but your attention was quickly turned to the coffee table, where your magazine sat, opened to an article you wrote. Your hands were a little shaky as you went to close the magazine, but you were interrupted before you could grasp the bent pages.

“Miss. Y/n? Mr. Rogers is ready for your interview. Head up to floor thirty six, the door on the right.” Miss receptionist sounded bored, her eyes never left the monitor in front of her. “Thanks.”

Some of the others in the waiting area looked up to you after hearing where you were going, causing you to blush.

You felt lucky to get the elevator to yourself. Thirty-six floors is a long way to go, yet you got there in under three. In the elevator you adjusted your outfit and flattened your hair, hoping it wasn’t frizzy.

The door on the right was clearly not just a meeting room but an office, which you thought was odd. You also found it odd that no one was in the room, you expected to at least be met with his assistant or secretary, if not Steve himself.

Your eyes scanned the room to make sure it was completely empty before taking a seat on the leather chair on the opposite side of the big desk. You opened your notebook and got out your lucky rooster pen before going over your questions once again, hoping he didn’t think they were stupid.

You waited fifteen minutes for him, growing increasingly irked as the minutes built up. When he walked through the door you felt like your heart stopped.

Six-four build covered in a black suit and tie, white undershirt pristine. Blonde hair disheveled and a perfectly manicured beard. The door slammed shut and you heard the clinking sound of a glass being set down. Steve lifted his head and you snapped yours to the front, hoping he didn’t catch you checking him out.

The room was silent besides a rustling coming from behind you. You busied yourself with your notebook, highlighting the questions you wanted to ask most.

“You’re a very patient girl.” He observed. Steve made you wait on purpose. He knew from the first person you called that you wanted an interview, he was friends with Maria Hill after all. But he wanted some entertainment, and after looking into you, he knew you were the right girl. So far he’s made you wait an hour and fourteen minutes for just a smidge of his attention.

“Yes, Sir.” You mumbled, accidentally stopping the highlighter too soon, pressing it down, and letting the pink ink bleed to the next page. He hummed in approval as he rounded the corner, drink in his hand, coat jacket discarded, sleeves rolled up, first couple buttons loose. Finally, Steve sat in the big chair, keeping eye contact with you as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the mahogany table.

“Give me that.” Your eyebrows furrowed at his statement, “What?” You asked, putting your pen down on your lap. Steve motioned for your notebook, and you opened your mouth, starting to stumble over your words. “Oh? um- Okay?” You handed it over to him and he relaxed back into his chair. A question bubbled in your throat, but you didn’t let it escape. Instead, you watched as his eyes scanned the papers, blue cursive, and pink highlighter, little stars and flowers drawn in the corners. “Mr. Rogers, are you ready to start the interview?” You tapped your watch, twelve twenty four.

He nodded, “Yes, I’m ready.” You cleared your throat and went to ask for your notebook, but he beat you to it. “Miss. L/n, is there an achievement or something that you’ve contributed to me that you are most proud of?” Why was he asking you your own questions? “Sir, I-“ He cut you off once again. “Answer the question, doll.”

You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest. “I- um, no. I haven’t contributed anything to you that I should be proud of, Sir.”

“Is there a particular moment or memory of building this relationship that stands out to you?” He continued with the questions, tilting his head to the side. Why was he twisting the questions onto you? When you didn’t come up with an answer he chuckled, sounding sickly sweet like molasses dripping straight from the sugarcane. “Patience finally wearing thin, honey?” You nodded eyes staring at his chest, you couldn’t quite muster up the courage to look him in the eye.

He snapped your notebook closed and slid it towards your side of the grand desk. “You couldn’t answer my questions correctly, Y/n.” You nodded, eyes now downcast, admiring the pattern on the blue carpet. You felt like you were going to cry. This big scary man was mean and just wouldn’t let you conduct your interview and you didn’t know why. “I’m sorry, Sir.”

“I know you are, doll. But, if you can’t answer my questions how can I answer yours? You have nothing to offer me.” This was it, you were losing your chance. “Business wise, that is.” Your head shook, and your hands were clasped together, your left thumb rubbing your right nail back and forth. “I don’t understand, Sir.”

“I’m friends with Maria, Y/n. If you’re able to get this article done and get me on the cover you’re gonna get a promotion, you want that, right doll?” Your eyes went wide, “Yes, Sir.” Now, he stood, coming around to the front where you are and leaning against the desk. “She said to make it difficult, but I don’t care enough to do all that. So, doll, I’ll answer your questions. They’re quite good actually. And I’ll do a little photoshoot for the cover, but you’ll need to pay me back.” You gulped, hands suddenly sweaty, you felt like a little chihuahua, trembling under his gaze.

“How? Um, how do I pay you?” Gosh, even your voice was shaky. “Stand up. Lose the blazer.” Steve commanded, slowly unbuckling his belt. You could faintly tell from the buckle that it was Hermès. You stood and took off your blazer in a rush, folding it poorly and setting it on the arm of the chair. “Atta girl.”

He placed his hands on your shoulders and then ran them down to your hands, giving them a little squeeze before he hooked his index fingers into your belt loops, pulling you closer. So close that the tips of your shoes were touching. He leaned down to kiss your neck and you stiffened, but when he grazed his teeth over the bruised spot he just created you melted into him, your hands grasping at the pristine white button up, letting out a little whimper.

Steve pushed you back a little and took in your form, then he pulled the little security badge off, tossing it to the side. Like a little kid, he pulled at the neckline of your shirt. “Off.” You would’ve giggled at him if he didn’t look so scary right now. His blue eyes were piercing into yours, left hand so tight on your hip you thought he might leave bruises.

By the time your shirt hit the floor, he was pushing at your shoulders, hinting at you to go to your knees. “Sir, I don’t know-“

You started, knees hitting the carpet underneath you. He shushed you and guided your head to look up at him. “It's okay, baby, you don’t have to know how. I’ll do all the work, doll. Now, undo your bra.” As expected you did as he asked immediately, fumbling with the clasp until it fell down your arms. It ended up next to your thigh as you watched him pull his belt through the loops.

Steve walked around you and kneeled down, belt in his hands. “Put your hands behind your back.” You nodded immediately, so submissive, completely at his mercy. “Yes, Sir.” Steve loved how polite you were. He made quick work of restraining you, tying your hands to rest against your jean clad ass. The metal felt harsh against your skin and the soft, expensive leather snaked up your arms.

When he was back in front of you he sighed and shook his head. “I should’ve had you unzip me first.” Hearing Steve say that finally brought you to the reality of what was about to happen. You watched with big eyes as he undid the button and then the zipper, the sound making you tremble. His dress pants puddled on the floor and you were in awe as he massaged his bulge through his boxers. Slowly, he pulled them down to the middle of his thighs. His cock bounced up to hit his abdomen and he hissed as he stroked it a few times. “Open as wide as you can, honey.”

As always, you did as asked. Your tongue stuck out a little, wetting your bottom lip. He grasped the back of your head and leaned you forward a little, then you felt his blunt tip on your tongue. You gagged and spluttered when Steve was about halfway seated, he pulled out and leaned down, kissing you sloppily. “Breathe through your nose, baby. Don’t forget.” Then he was back at slowly entering your throat. “Fuck...” he grunted, finally fully seated in your throat, your nose pressed against his nicely groomed pubic hair. He caressed your throat then, rubbing the bulge in your throat, resisting the urge to press down and have you choke on his cock even more. “So good, Y/n.”

Steve started rocking into your throat, slowly fucking it as spit leaked from the corners of your mouth. After minutes of abusing your throat, he finally pulled out, adoring the way tears ran down your cheeks and how you hiccupped, wanting to desperately rub at your raw throat to soothe it. Your hands pulled at the belt and your eyes begged Steve to undo it. “Up, doll.”

He hoisted you up from your armpits and bent you over the desk. Steve pressed kisses down your back and reached in front of you, unbuckling your belt and throwing it somewhere to the left of you, then he unbuttoned and unzipped your pants, tugging them down with fervor.

Steve undid your restraints and left more kisses down your back until he reached your ass, spreading your cheeks to reveal your tight hole and glistening cunt. “I’d love to see this ass all bruised and red, but I’ll have to save that for another day.” His index and middle finger ran circles on your clit, your back arching to press into him more. “Sir, please!” You gasped, your hand flying out to the edge of the table and nearly knocking over the glass of whiskey he left on a coaster when Steve finally pushed two fingers into your aching hole.

“Gotta open you up first, doll, get you all sloppy and ready for my cock.” You cried out as he hooked his fingers, rubbing the magic spot inside of you. “Please, Steve, please.” He cooed at you, pulling his fingers out, and instead traced his name over your clit. “You gonna come, baby? Huh? You gonna drench my fingers, little girl?” You were moaning in wanton, hips humping his hand desperately. He brought his other hand down and started fingerfucking you again, giving you just enough to push you over the edge.

Your moans were breathy, your legs twitching, and you were panting by the time your orgasm faded. “I hope you know I’m not done with you yet, doll, I still haven’t come inside you.” That made you whine high in your throat and you tried, to no avail, to slam your legs shut around his hand.

Steve’s right hand fisted his cock a few times, making sure he’s rock hard and dripping with pre-cum, while his left kept your lips spread, showing him your gorgeous pussy. The blunt head at your entrance shocked you, and you yelped at the intrusion. “Sir!”

He leaned his head down and spit where you were joined, trying to make the glide even easier. “Shut up, doll.” He snapped after you cried out. Once he was as deep as possible inside of you he reached for his belt, looping it over as if he was going to spank you, and stuffed it into your mouth. “Bite down,” Steve demanded, a hand snaked around to the front of your neck where he was applying light pressure.

When you tried to push back against him he held your hips down against the wood steadily and started snapping his hips at a fast speed. Each thrust pushed you down onto the table, letting your clit rub against the mahogany wood.

Your vision felt spacey like you could black out any moment as he choked you. Your orgasm washed over you and you had to use all the strength you had in you to keep biting down on the belt. You didn’t want to know what would happen if you disobeyed his and let it go. Steve’s hips harshly snapped against your ass a few more times before he stilled inside of you, filling you with his spunk.

Before Steve cleaned you up and let you leave his office he had to finger his cum back inside of you, making sure none of it went to waste. Then, he made sure you had a way home, and a way to contact him, because, “Now you’re no longer Magazine Girl, but My Girl.”

@lo-bells

#steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve smut #steve rogers smut #dark!steve #dark!steve x reader #marvel #avengers fanfic #captain america #ceo!au #chris evans #leah-bobeea

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makeste · 4 years ago

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BnHA Chapter 294: A Half-Assed Escape

Previously on BnHA: Mirio was all “SURPRISE I’M BACK THANKS TO OUR RESIDENT SEVEN-YEAR-OLD WHO RECENTLY EARNED HER BACHELOR’S OF BEING A TOTAL BADASS.” Kacchan was all, “you know what, Dabi’s been trending long enough, time to remind the fandom what a real G looks like,” and he blasted his little bleeding body back into the fray and was all “FROM HERE ON OUT CALL ME DYNAMIGHT!!” Mirio was all, “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA... oh, you’re serious,” and Kacchan was all “!!”, and so that’s the story of how my son got murdered twice in one day. Meanwhile in the Todoroki Drama Zone, Deku was all “STOP MURDERING MY FRIEND” and Dabi was all “THAT’S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS” and fandom had a whole big debate about Whether Or Not Dabi Trying To Murder Deku’s Friends And Mentors Is Any Of Deku’s Business, which went exactly how you think it went. Anyway, so then Deku yelled at Dabi, and Endeavor was all moved by his manly words and randomly went to go uppercut Machia in the chin. And, seeing as how the Momoserum finally chose that exact moment to kick in, Machia is now down for the count.

Today on BnHA: The Miriosquad handles the Nearly High End Noumus, freeing up Jeanist to jasphyxiate (okay that one doesn’t really work so well) the rest of the League. Compress is all “TIME FOR THIS MILD-MANNERED SIDE CHARACTER VILLAIN TO SHINE”, except that by “shine” what he actually means is “use his quirk to punch a literal hole right through his own ass to free himself.” The rest of the chapter is basically just a back and forth between him and Jeanist, with Jeanist trying to recapture him, and Compress repeatedly thwarting him by chopping more holes out of himself because HE’S FRESH OUT OF FUCKS, AND THE ONES AT THE STORE ARE ALL SOLD OUT, MOTHERFUCKERS. Anyway, so with Compress basically dying and all, Horikoshi is all “you know what that means”, and delivers a freshly-baked villain flashback revealing that Compress is a descendant of Harima Ouji, a.k.a. the Peerless Thief, a.k.a. some famous guy whom Gentle mentioned this one time for like two seconds back in the day. The chapter ends with Compress finally demasking himself and dumping Tomura back onto the ground, a.k.a. The Worst Possible Place For Tomura To Be. ( •﹏•)

WHY IS CRUST HERE YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD

-- OH WAIT, SHIT. OH

AIZAWAAAA you’re alive and receiving medical help thank GOD. HOW MANY EYES DO YOU HAVE. AND MIRKO!! HOW MANY LIMBS DO YOU HAVE, OMG

so is this Aizawa dreaming about Crust’s final moments, then?? jesus. with All Due Respect to Crust’s memory, does Aizawa not already have enough misplaced guilt on his conscience as it is?? “nope, we’re gonna keep piling it on. that’s all he is now. three limbs, an indeterminate number of eyes, sexy hair, and Guilt” well shit

motherfucker y’all really out here placing an oxygen mask on Gran Torino’s corpse. fucking shounen characters. each one comes with a lifetime warranty

DAMN YOU HORIKOSHI WHY DO YOU KEEP SHOWING THESE CLOSE-UPS OF HAWKS’S UNCONSCIOUS FACE ALL WHUMPED OUT AND EXHAUSTED. HOW MUCH MORE OF THIS ARE WE GOING TO GET. ARE YOU PLANNING ON KILLING ME WITH THE UPCOMING CONVALESCENCE ARC, BECAUSE IF SO, AT LEAST HAVE THE DECENCY TO TELL ME AHEAD OF TIME SO I CAN MAKE A WILL

for a moment I considered going back and checking my previous recaps to count how many times I’ve already made a joke about Dabi’s fire incinerating Hawks’s wings but not touching so much as a hair on his five o’clock shadow, so that I could calculate whether or not I could possibly get away with making that same joke one more time. but then I realized I could just do it in this kind of roundabout way I’m doing right now instead. so there you have it

FFFFFFFMT LADY AND MIDNIGHT NOOOOO

PLEASE BE ALIVE. PLEASE RESPECT THE SIGN ON THE FRONT OF THE BUILDING. THE ONE THAT SAYS “NO LADY CHARACTERS ALLOWED TO DIE”, WITH THE FINE PRINT AT THE BOTTOM “AT LEAST NOT UNTIL HORIKOSHI GIVES US LIKE TWENTY-SIX MORE OF THEM FIRST IF THAT’S THE WAY HE WANTS TO PLAY IT.” IT’S A GOOD SIGN, PLEASE RESPECT ITS WISHES!!

so anyway though, Jeanist is giving a speech about how god knows how many people all worked together to bring Machia down. and now RHA is getting in on those fabric puns too, I see. “A SINGLE STRAND MAY BE THIN BUT TOGETHER THEY FORM A STRONG ROPE” oh so you think you guys are funny eh? I’m a frayed knot

MEANWHILE EXCUSE ME BUT WHY ARE YOU FUCKING CRYING BLOOD, HOLY SHIT

fffffff. so much for him taking over as the Number One once all this is over. so let’s just recap real quick, because Horikoshi has long since made it clear that one of his plot goals for this arc is to wipe out every single member of the Billboard Top Ten. so how we doin?

Endeavor - was just figuratively eviscerated in front of the entire nation by his homicidal zombiepunk son. also burnt half to death and possibly down a lung. will almost certainly be forced to retire after this one way or the other

Hawks - lying prettily in a medical tent. wings status: gone. hair status: still perfect

Jeanist - WELL I THOUGHT HE WAS FINE BUT APPARENTLY HE’S OUT HERE DYING, JESUS CHRIST

Edgeshot - MIA, last seen fighting Re-Destro. I really want him to have kicked RD’s ass because fuck that guy, but realistically they probably fought to a draw at best

Mirko - alive but in critical condition and missing something like 1.5 limbs

Crust - dead, currently haunting Aizawa’s traumatized dreams. now he’s gonna be triggered the rest of his life by people giving him the thumbs up, THANKS A LOT

Kamui Woods - was set on fire which is His Weakness. thoughts and prayers

Wash - last seen floating hospital patients to safety as Tomura’s wave of decay descended towards him. probably dead ffff

Old Man Samurai - haven’t seen this fucker in a hot minute, who even knows where he’s wandered off to

Ryuukyuu - currently being treated for her wounds, looked pretty bad off. but it’s hard to tell how hurt she is since most of the injuries were acquired in her transformed state. SHE BETTER GET WELL SOON

anyways, so yeah. so much for the top ten. guess that’s another reason Horikoshi brought Mirio back now, huh

so there’s a big panel of everyone fighting the Noumu while Machia lies there all “blurgh.” good riddance my dude. it took like twenty chapters and a hundred people to stop this guy so I really fucking hope he stays down. you’ve had your fun

anyway so Jeanist is sending another steel thread towards Dabi! and he’s all “just a bit more!!” fklklj this is gonna go real well isn’t it

meanwhile Mirio’s fighting a Nearly High End with all of these weird rock formations jutting out of its skin. go on and kick his ass then, Mirio

“each of these guys is probably just as strong as the Noumu from Kyuushuu” hold on I thought Ujiko or Tomura or someone said that wasn’t the case? not that Mirio would know I suppose. anyways let’s just hope he’s wrong cuz if not these kids are probably screwed

kLSDKFHLSKHGLKLK OH MY GODDDD

IIDA FUCKING TENYA YOU’RE A PEACH. THINKS THE NAME IS OUTRAGEOUS, CHECK. USES IT ANYWAY, CHECK. “JUST BECAUSE I DON’T UNDERSTAND DOESN’T MEAN I CAN’T BE SUPPORTIVE.” WHAT A CLASS ACT

AND KACCHAN IS RESPONDING WITH AS MUCH DIGNITY AS HE CAN MUSTER

WOW, SON. IT’S ALMOST AS THOUGH YOU HAVE A HOLE IN YOUR TORSO, OR SOMETHING!! although listen up, real talk, the fact that Kacchan of all people can’t muster the energy to yell at someone questioning his ability to kick ass is HIGHKEY troubling and we may be in need of an intervention here soon :/

now Jeanist is finally turning his attention to the League! was... was it not already on the League. omg

ACTUAL SCREAMING AHHHHHH FUCK FUCKLK LK AHHLKHKFFFF

hey so um. what the actual fucked up hell. my soul left my body. imagine if you saw the reflection of this panel on your bedroom window. you would never sleep again

OKAY RHA TRANSLATORS ARE YOU HAVING YOURSELF A LAUGH AGAIN

THIS CANNOT BE WHAT HE’S ACTUALLY SAYING RIGHT. BUT IT’S RIGHT IN THAT UNCANNY VALLEY OF NOT BEING QUITE SURE, THOUGH... (　ﾟдﾟ)

(ETA: just a next-day clarification here, apparently my sleep-deprived ADHD word-skipping brain completely skipped right over the “a” in that last panel, so what I read was, “and Shigaraki’s limp noodle.” so yeah, the moral of this story is always read the speech bubble carefully before you start making running jokes throughout the rest of your post, folks.)

oh wow he’s really freaking out lmao

to be fair though, I’d argue that Dabi has gotten pre-tty close at this point :’) thrilled for him, really I am

but anyway, well then figure something out you big dramatic robot-armed fiend. didn’t you just say you could touch your own ass? can you not just Compress yourself to break free?? does it not work on you? or would you be stuck afterwards lol

(ETA: I was picturing him compressing his entire body at once, not just chunks of it. ghhhlkh.)

holy shit Jeanist. are you stupidly trying to cut off their air, or are you going for more of a sleeper hold (jleeper hold??) thing instead. the latter would be way smarter and faster and probably safer as well just saying

but unless Spinner is just being super dramatic, it sure looks like he’s fucking strangling them djslkjlk. this will certainly cement his popularity among the villain stans. good thing you’re not running for office any time soon bud

anyway so I have no idea what these guys are trying to do now. what is this

do you even have till the count of 5 at this rate. I mean

OH MY GOODNESS

HE’S REALLY FUCKING DOING IT!! HE’S COMPRESSING HIS BUTT!! OMFG. TOMURA HIDE YOUR NOODLE!!!

WHAT THE FUCK

DID YOU COMPRESS A PIECE OF YOUR OWN ASS. FUCKING WHAT. PUT THIS MAN’S PICTURE IN THE DICTIONARY NEXT TO THE WORD “LOYALTY”, HOLY CRAP

HOLY SHIT COMPRESS

“HOLY SHIT DID THAT GUY JUST PUNCH A HOLE THROUGH HIS OWN ASS IN ORDER TO SAVE HIS VILLAIN PALS. FUCK IT, HE DESERVES TO ESCAPE”

jeez, talk about... A HALF-ASSED ESCAPE ATTEMPT :D :D :D hahaha. but real talk though, Horikoshi has clearly never tried to leap twelve feet straight up in the air multiple times in succession with only half his glutes though. everyone, I regret to inform you that this panel right here on the left may be slightly unrealistic

also where the hell is he going to go?? did you pack a jetpack away in one of those little marbles sir. and what about Dabi?? and Skeptic too, I guess, but we don’t really care about Skeptic

(ETA: at this point I had to stop reading for about two hours because I had to go out and take care of something; that’s also why this is being posted later than usual lol. anyways so where were we.)

oh my lord

the existence of a translator’s note here implies that the earlier line about Compress being able to reach Tomura’s junk was not, in fact, ad-libbed. hmm. hmmmmmmmm

anyway so now he’s grabbing Compress again because OF COURSE HE IS, so now we’re right back to square one! except now Tomura and Spinner are secured inside of little marbles, and presumably Compress is the only one who can release them

oh nevermind he’s just maiming himself again instead, SHEESH

Skeptic a man is dying please have some goddamn respect

so, uh. is he gonna die, though??

I really can’t tell wtf is going on here, this is the most confusing the art has been in a while. Horikoshi put all of his spoons into that creepyass close-up panel earlier, that bastard

OMG WHAT ARE YOU SERIOUS

DON’T FUCKING TELL ME THE “COMPRESS IS RELATED TO THIS THIEF GUY FROM OLDEN TIMES” THEORY IS ACTUALLY TRUE WHAAAAAAT. OH SHIT

so apparently Harima was a Robin Hood type guy who stole from... heroes?? wtf. are heroes the 1% in this scenario. y’all didn’t have any Fortune 500 CEOs to steal from?

THAT’S THE BLOOD THAT FLOWS THROUGH YOU, OH SHIT. and in a related oh shit, the fact that we are getting a Compress flashback now of all times doesn’t bode super well for him. ffff

MEANWHILE THE TODOROKIS ARE STILL TODOROKI-ING

listen here boy if you touch one freaking hair on Shouto’s candy cane head I swear to god --

WHAT DID I FUCKING SAY!!!

SHOUTO NOOOOOO. WTF YOU’RE LITERALLY THE ONE GUY WHOSE WEAKNESS IS ABSOLUTELY NOT SUPPOSED TO BE FIRE. DABI YOU SHIT, YOU BETTER WATCH YOURSELF!! I’M PRINTING OUT A COPY OF THAT COMPRESS PANEL!!! KEEP AN EYE OUT ON THAT BEDROOM WINDOW YOU PUNK!!!

SO NOW POOR SHOUTO IS UNCONSCIOUS AND FALLING!! SOMEONE SAVE HIM!! WHO CATCHES THE CATCHER

COMPRESS LITERALLY HOW ARE YOU STILL ALIVE RIGHT NOW, WHAT IS HAPPENING

PLEASE DON’T CALL TOMURA LEADER OF THE “PLF” YOU KNOW I CAN’T TAKE IT SERIOUSLY WHEN YOU DO THAT. ARE YOU DYING. ARE YOU JUST A FUCKING HEAD NOW WTF

(ETA: “masks are removable, makeste” you know what it’s been a long day okay lmao. or I suppose Compress is really the one who is lmao.)

GASPPPPPP

okay. okay. looooool okay then

WHY WERE YOU COVERING THIS SEXY MOP OF HAIR UNDER THAT HOOD YOU TOOL. IT WOULD HAVE LOOKED SO GOOD WITH THE TOP HAT. I’M SO MAD AT YOU RIGHT NOW

as if it wasn’t enough for him to demask himself, he also had to get all shirtless and then do this weird attempt at a sexypose too huh

hard to say exactly how much of his torso is currently missing, but safe to say that’s proooooooobably not good. :///// fuck

on the other hand, Kacchan also has a torso hole and he’s still flying around like he just drank a dozen red bulls, so

this man lost his ass and he’s still out here monologuing like it’s the last two minutes of The Prestige. one might say he is monologuing his ass off

so he let Spinner and Tomura free, but is Dabi still trapped in his marble?? wasn’t he all on fire and stuff?? hopefully he can still turn off his quirk in there because if not that’s a pretty fucked up way to die. somewhere out there Snatch’s ghost is all “YEAH I’LL SAY.” oh how the turntables

last but not least, sooooooo. Tomura. back on the ground. that’s. um. ...shiiiiiiiit

#bnha 294 #mr. compress #...and actually that's pretty much it lol #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #sorry this is up later than usual (and mostly unedited as well)#just one of those days

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sombreboy · 4 years ago

Text

Wedding night⇢kth x jjk

⇢18+ ⇢pairing: Taehyung x Jungkook ⇢genre: Smut, fluff, mxm ⇢word count: 12.7k ⇢warnings: profanity which is mostly Tae cursing like a sailor, dirtytalk, drinking, dom!kth, sub!jjk, koo sucks tae off in a taxi lmao, slight cockwarming in koo's little throat?, more oral cuz Koo is cockhungry as hell, DADDY KINK, Tae eats Koo's ass like a fuckin champ, light choking ig but its with luv, anal (as always, this is fictional, use lube- koo loves when tae destroys his ass)

A/N: Serves as an ‘after story’ within the Love Maze series AU, however can also be read on it’s own.

“Damn, Tae.” Hoseok whistled, messing with the younger’s formal, silk bow tie whilst Taehyung examined his reflection through the mirror; set out to dismiss his hyung’s side comments, no matter how uplifting.

He was nervous— as he was expected to be. It was Taehyung’s wedding day, and although he’d been dying of excitement days prior, now that he stood in his assigned dressing room; his heart was racing . Of course he was thrilled to be marrying Jungkook--he wouldn’t have proposed to the man if he wasn’t 100% sure. But.. still . It was an important milestone in their life--Taehyung wanted it to be perfect.

“Jungkook’s jaw is going to hit the floor!” Jin’s elated voice joined in from his spot on the couch, where he sipped on a martini; legs crossed as if he was relaxing by the beach, living his best life.

“I can just imagine the look on his face.” Namjoon playfully squeezed Tae’s tense shoulders, grinning at the anxious man through the full-length mirror. Taehyung simply shrugged him off, grimacing as if Joon’s touch stung. “Hyungs.. can you be quiet? I’m trying to think.”

Namjoon stepped away from Tae, hands raised in surrender. “Sorry, sorry. I just can’t believe it— that you guys are getting married, that is.”

At that, an awkward smile tugged at Taehyung’s lips. He couldn’t believe it either; it felt like a dream. Tae didn’t regret getting down on one knee at all, he wanted Jungkook for the rest of his life. Some might think they’d been taking it too fast— or are in a hurry to secure their future; but this was what felt right to the both of them. They’d been dating for five years now, making Taehyung twenty-three; a young adult whose life was only beginning— supposedly. But that was the furthest thing from the truth. No matter how cheesy it sounded, Tae’s life began when he met Kook, his husband-to-be. He wanted to be married to the guy, to be able to call him his husband. They’d even started looking into adoption agencies, knowing the process could take up to a year’s time. Fuck what people thought of their decisions, they were theirs to assume the consequences of.

“Shit, I just hope it all goes well..”

“It will, Tae. This day will go down in the book of your lives.” Namjoon reassured.

Jin snickered, hiccuping, “You’re so poetic, Joon. Trust me, this day is going to slap.”

Meanwhile in Jungkook’s dressing room..

“You nervous? Need a cig?” One of Jungkook’s coworkers, Jia, offered; already pulling out a pack of cigarettes from her purse.

“Uhm.. I don’t think that’s a good idea..” Jisoo frowned, eyeing the other woman with uncertainty. “Just take deep breaths if you’re nervous, Jungkookie.”

“Ooor you could just smoke one.”

“For the last time—“

“You girls are so different, oh my fucking god.” Yoongi nonchalantly grumbled, arms crossed over his chest. Jia rolled her eyes, tucking the cigarettes back to where she found them.

“You guys are being annoying,” Jimin sighed, setting aside his beer before waltzing closer to Jungkook, studying the younger’s appearance with a pleased look on his face.

“Tae’s going to love you. You look good!”

''No smoking, I'm literally about to kiss Taehyung in front of everyone.'' Jungkook murmured, eyes hyper fixated on himself in the mirror. Honestly, a cigarette, or ten would be exactly what he needed right about fucking now. He was so nervous, his breathing was shallow-- his hands trembling. He took a good look at himself... He's always looked the same in his own eyes, ever unchanging. But today was different. Jungkook was different. Suddenly, he could see all the changes he's made since high school-- all the changes he'd been through with, and without Taehyung. The ever growing muscles finally at their peak, the suit flattering to his shape from his widened shoulders to his slim waist. His tattoos snaking out of the sleeve to his hands and by his neck. And his always way-too-long hair that he refuses to keep too short only because Taehyung had once said 'I like it long.'.. Now, that must've been years ago, but it stuck with the younger.

"I really look good?" Jungkook glanced at his friends through the mirror.

“Yes!” They all answered in unison— “Decent.”

“Yoongi, shush!” Jisoo playfully pushed the newly-dyed blonde’s shoulder, assuring Jungkook of how handsome he looked.

“Kidding, kid. You look okay.” Yoongi shrugged, successfully dodging Jimin’s incoming slap to his chest.

“Don’t pretend like I didn’t catch you trying to hold back your tears moments before, Min.” Jia smirked, crossing her tattooed arms over her chest; smile widening at the man’s taken-aback reaction.

“Wasn’t crying. You don’t even know me, anyways.” Yoongi huffed, now more hyper aware of his feelings, hence he snapped his head in the opposite direction of his peers.

“Never said you were crying, now did I?”

“Yo, both of you, stop bickering. If you didn’t hate each other so much, I’d think you’re secretly in love with one another.” Jimin didn’t bother looking at the pair, instead focusing his attention on the man of the night— well, one of the men. He was extremely happy for them; they deserved their happy ending after all the shit they went through. And it was a lot..

“You look hot, spicy.” Knowing it’d tickle Kook’s amusement, Jimin giggled whilst he verbally teased him, hoping to ease his mind even for a bit.

“Damn, Yoongi’s crying might rub off on me.”

“I wasn’t crying for fucks sake!”

Taehyung was left alone for some time; left to gather his thoughts once the suit was properly fitted, black hair slicked back— a couple strands falling down to his eyes. Still, he felt far from put together.. Reaching for his phone, Tae tapped on Jungkook’s profile, thumbs moving before he could think of the right words to say.

To: Kook Hey ;)) I know it’s bad luck or whatever to see each other before the ceremony, so I settled for texting I’m a little nervous, I’ve had to pee like 10 times now But fuck I’m so eager to make you my husband, bet you look gorgeous as always

Jungkooks scrunched smile and giggle grew, his friends surely knew how to hype him up; even though the nervosity was at its peak. "Thanks guys." He reached for his phone on the table as soon as it chimed, tucking his fringe behind his ear as he tapped the message. It didn't matter how long the men had been together, Tae always put a dumb grin on Kooks face with his interesting mashup of rambles and emojis. He quickly tapped back on the screen, he'd become a pretty good texter these days compared to his younger days.

To: TaeTae I'm also nervous T_T the girls (and Jimin) have been hyping me up for the past twenty minutes...I almost considered smoking a pack but I wanted to taste good lol. x) And I'm pretty sure Yoongi cried! feel so awkward in a suit, but they say I look, and I quote, "spicy" :ooo Can't wait to see you though, I can't imagine how fucking pretty you'll look in a suit.. I'll see you soon ^^ <3

Jungkook cringed, this might be the longest text he's ever sent in his entire life. But it was fun, and hopefully it would help ease the elders' nerves.

"Alright, it's time!" Jimin clapped his hands. "We will head to the audience, you got this Kook!"

Fuck, it was actually happening. They were getting married.

Taehyung comfortably sank back in his spot on the couch, chuckling at Jungkook’s use of emojis; it was fuckin’ cute. His boy was a dork, another reason Tae wanted to marry him.. The younger’s plan unknowingly worked, Taehyung felt more at peace as he typed back his reply; fingers moving quickly as he knew it was almost time to go. Now that he thought about it.. it was a waste, considering Kook probably wouldn’t see it until after the ceremony, but it did calm him down, so Tae said to hell with it.

To: Kook You always taste good tho..love everything you have to offer, you know I’m not picky And fuuuuckkk I bet you’re rocking the suit rn baby, don’t feel awkward

“Tae! Hurry.” Hoseok’s head peeked in from the other side, urging him to wrap it up— whatever had him grinning from ear to ear. Throwing his phone to the side, Taehyung looked at his reflection one last time, messing with Namjoon’s work on his tie. When jogging out of the room, Tae cursed to himself— his speech! “Shit, never mind.” The elder was so stressed out that he hadn’t noticed the slip of paper was tightly held in his hand; it was nerve-wracking. Taehyung was the one supposed to wait at the altar; after having been decided by a silly game of ‘rock, paper, scissors’. The one thing they took their utmost time deciding on was the name, however.

Jeon. Taehyung wanted to take Jungkook’s surname. Something about wanting a fresh, fresh start. His boyfriend was his everything, and his father was nothing compared to Kook. Tae felt as if change was needed, and what better way than to refer to himself as a Jeon? It drew butterflies in his stomach..

“Fuck— sorry, I’m here now.” The elder harshly whispered to the marriage officiant, nearly tripping over a random cord on the way. Of course. Fuck, his mouth was dry. Taehyung’s chest felt heavy with excitement, squeezing tightly onto the piece of paper that had his vows written inside; just waiting to be heard by Jungkook— and everyone else, but those words were meant for the younger, truly. Shit, Tae just wanted to see him..

Jungkook was trembling behind the closed doors, continuously having to be stopped by Jisoo from running his hand through his hair.

"Don't mess your hair up, kookie. We spent hours on taming it!" She chuckled quietly, fixing the tie on his neck. He was a nervous wreck, his anxiety causing his stomach to do somersaults. He wants to throw up.

"I've never been this nervous in my life." Kook bounced on the ball of his foot, taking deep breaths. He was gonna get through this. He wanted this. He just wanted to see Taehyung.

"Shh, it's time. Go get that husband, Kookie!" Jisoo patted his back, grabbing the basket of flowers that she'd share with her daughter, Yuna. She was 5 years old now, and having them as the flower girls was nothing but an obvious choice. The doors slowly opened, music playing and everyone on their seats stood up, turning to look at Jungkook. It was a mix of eyes, all showing their own version of joy, whether it be with tears in their eyes or a large smile. But the only face Jungkook could see was the one staring back at him from the altar.

"Fuck..." Jungkook whispered under his breath, his feet finally moving on their own, eyes tunnel visioned on Taehyung. His heart didn't calm down, instead raced even faster, pounding heavily in his chest. But it wasn't out of nervosity, but of excitement.

“Oh, wow..” Taehyung was whipped— in awe, too. Jungkook mirrored a literal angel sent from above, and the elder couldn’t seem to look away; not for one second. The younger one looked stunning.. “Gorgeous..” Tae’s teeth clamped down on his lower lip, preventing it from trembling due to the emotions that’d taken over his body in the form of shivers. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry..

Taehyung couldn’t believe it, they were only moments away from— “Uncle Tae! I have no more flowers..!” A fit of muffled laughter erupted from the small crowd, causing a flustered Jisoo to attempt to quiet down her daughter, murmuring shh’s.

“But mama I need more flowers!” Taehyung laughed, mouthing to Jisoo that all was well; Yuna was too cute. Tae loved the little girl to pieces. Once she was done throwing her mini tantrum— thanks to Namjoon, who quickly swept Yuna off her little feet; Tae’s big grin gradually died down now that Jungkook’s figure had gotten closer. Instead, he licked over his lips, feeling the warm tears resurface once again.

“Hurry up, I wanna hold your hands..” The needy whisper came out weaker than Taehyung had intended, voice breaking whilst he made grabby-hands towards Jungkook, wanting nothing more than to stand before the love of his life. When both men finally faced one another, the elder had the strong urge to kiss him; but he held back. The time hadn’t come yet..

“Wow.. you look so pretty, baby,” is what he settled for, nervously toying with Kook’s fingers, glassy eyes shrinking the more his smile widened.

Jungkook chewed the inside of his cheek, the only invisible release of his anxious state that he could do at the moment. Taehyung looked fucking otherwordly, it blew his mind that this man... was his. Forever.

''You too.... So handsome.'' He whispered back, doe eyes sparkling from the lights around them, enhanced by the layer of tears glazing over his dark irises. Don't cry, don't cry, don't fucking-- well, fuck, he's crying. Jungkook was always a crybaby. ''Shit...'' Kook didn't even register the warmth trickling down his cheeks until now, blinking rapidly as he looked at the ceiling to prevent the stinging in his eyes. His tattooed hands immediately intertwined with Taehyung's, squeezing to ensure that this was indeed their reality. And so, they were both reminded of this reality as the officiant's voice echoed in the venue.

"Welcome family, friends and loved ones. We are gathered today to celebrate the union of,'' The officiant paused to look at the younger. ''Jeon Jungkook and,'' And over at the elder. ''Kim Taehyung."

Jungkook's breath hitched, squeezing his husband to be's hands tighter.

"Your marriage will be a lifelong promise to love, respect, trust and honor each other through the good, the bad and the unexpected. This union represents your commitment to support one another as individual beings but share your joys, sorrows, and dreams as one." The speech continued, the officiant rambled about marriage, about love, about everything-- and Jungkook couldn't do anything but silently admire Taehyung, just as the elder did back. Their expression said it all, it always did. Ever since they were younger, the look in their eyes never changed as they found each other's gaze.

''Jeon Jungkook, do you take Kim Taehyung to be your husband?''

Jungkook swallowed tightly, it felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest at any given moment. The way he fucking loved this man was unheard of.

"I do." His voice was clear, and for that he was thankful-- even if his cheeks were damp with tears.

The officiant turned to look at the elder.

"Kim Taehyung, do you take Jeon Jungkook to be your husband?"

Taehyung didn’t need another second to think it through; he’s had five years to make up his mind—“Fuck, o-of course! I mean, I do.” He squeezed the younger’s trembling hands, twiddling with the delicate piece of metal hugging Kook's ring finger; grinning freely past the layer of tears that washed over his chocolate eyes.

“Forasmuch as Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook have consented together in holy matrimony, and have pledged their love and loyalty to each other, and have declared the same by the joining and the giving of rings, by the power vested in me, and as witnessed by friends and family, I now pronounce you married. You may kiss the groom.” The series of claps and exceptionally loud cheers (drunk Jin) from their friends barely reached Taehyung’s ears. The elder practically threw himself in Jungkook’s arms, tightly wrapping his own around the younger’s neck as Tae kissed the hell out of him, taking his sweet time with his husband. Fuck.. felt disorienting— yet extremely fitting to think that; to be able to refer to Jungkook as his husband.

“I love you so much.” Taehyung’s faint whisper only reached four ears, his and Kook’s. Their friends lingered in the beautifully lit background, cooing; some snapping hundreds of pictures (once again, drunk Jin) of the pair. “And yeah, they were right. You do look spicy..” The elder discreetly raised a brow, having yet to part ways from Jungkook’s warmth. “But tonight, you’ll look even better naked.” The elder’s hands tauntingly slid down to Kook’s waist, where he gripped at his soft edges. Taehyung’s dim smirk diminished into yet another kiss, this time needier..

“Uh, guys? You gonna stop kissing now..?” Hoseok gave them a verbal poke, “We’re still here, you know.”

Jia cheerfully butted in, “Let’s get this party started, I wanna get wasted.”

Jungkook wiped his dry tears off his cheeks when theiy kiss is broken, wide smile mixed with his flustered blush. Tae always managed to sneak in the comments that'd make his insides stir from the mere anticipation of what's to come. Their wedding night. Somehow, that thought made it even more special. And even if they've done practically everything together, Koo was feeling a bit nervous... He wanted it to be even more special. He was thankful for the fact that a bit of liquid courage would surely help with his nerves. Honestly, tipsy sex later on didn't sound that bad...

"Don't say such things yet, or I won't be able to wait until tonight.." Jungkook whispered back, burying his face in Tae's neck momentarily until his blush would subside.

Photos were taken, from Tae popping the champagne bottle for their first drink together as a married couple, arms hooked and cheesy for the cameras, Jungkook cutting their cake and feeding it to Taehyung, with all hyungs in the back cheering like dumbasses, to Yuna smearing cream on Jungkook's nose as he held her. It was the perfect gathering for everyone that loved them, and for the ones they loved. The venue had moved into the party event of the night, Kook's suit jacket came off to only wear the pants and white dress shirt underneath, sleeves rolled up to his biceps, hair slightly messy but still put together. Drinks now in hand, hyungs, friends and the married couple exchanged laughs, memories and embarrassing stories.

''Remember when Taehyungie aaalways would give Jungkookie the marshmallows during breakfast? Ah, so wholesome. And here they are, fucking maaarrried!" Jin laughed, raising his glass for another drink.

''And when they disappeared during that party...'' Yoongi added quietly, his cheeks red from the alcohol. ''Then they came back from upstairs looking all newly fucked.''

Namjoon choked on his drink at the memory, remembering literally finding them naked in the room. But, that was something he'd take to the grave, however giving the couple a look of 'if they only knew.'

Jungkook blushed, tilting his head back to gulp down one of his drinks. ''My favorite is... McDonalds.'' he scrunched his nose at the memory, glancing over at Tae. ''Remember?''

Taehyung sat his half-empty glass of wine down. The slender fingers that once wrapped around its crystal base were now on Jungkook’s thigh, caressing over the smoother fabric of the younger’s dress pants— a different feel compared to Kook’s usual, rugged style. “How could I forget..” Tae chuckled, “That’s the place where you asked me out.”

“I knew it!” Jin’s loud voice startled little Yuna, who was busy stuffing her face with a slice of cake whilst the rest of the adults conversed about different topics that didn’t intrigue her five-year-old mind. Immediately, she hid her face in Namjoon’s chest, small fists clinging onto her father’s suit. “Remember that day in the lunchroom? When both of you were being total assholes and wouldn’t tell us who asked who out? I was right.”

Hoseok’s eyes lit up, as if the memories had just registered in his brain— “I remember! Always thought it was Tae, though.”

Taehyung’s cheeky grin evolved into a laugh, comfortably leaning his body against his husband’s, “Nope. It was him, it was right after the party, too. I remember it clearly— my ass was so sore, and the stars were really pretty.. also, the milkshakes. At that moment, he just.. asked if I wanted to be his boyfriend, so I said yes.”

Jimin’s plushy lips jutted outwards into a soft pout, cooing.

“I didn’t know you back then, but that does sound cute as hell.” Jia looked over at Yoongi, seeing as he was already looking back at her. The sensual tension between those two was pungent, anyone could tell. “This man right here cried fat tears during your vows.” Yoongi’s fond expression shifted into a frown, huffing as he poured himself another drink.

“Not true, Jia. You sure love to over-exaggerate things, don’t you?”

Yoongi definitely cried. Everyone knew.

“Whatever, I’m gonna go... to the bathroom, drank too much..” The last bit was mumbled. With a quick look towards Jia’s direction, Yoongi raised his brows— she got the hint.

“Gonna go check my dress, shit’s too tight.”

And just like that, both disappeared from the table.

Hoseok snickered, “Remind you of some people?” Taehyung smirked, bumping shoulders with Kook.

“They’re definitely hooking up. Yoongi had a tent under those pants.”

“Daddy? What’s ‘hooking up’?” It was Jisoo’s turn to glare at the man at her side, “Jin!”

"That's uhhhh..... oh look Yuna, cake!" Namjoon averted the distraction with sugary sweets, which seemed to work by the way the little child suddenly forgot about any mention of 'hookups', his dimpled smile directed to Jisoo. Jungkook leaned onto Taehyung, his fond eyes travelling across the group. The fact they all managed to still be friends was a blessing. The night went on, everyone getting more intoxicated, Yoongi and Jina still gone-- probably left to continue somewhere else.. and Jisoo and Namjoon ended up leaving because little Yuna had a bedtime to attend. The rest of the group stayed around until late hours, cheering and drinking on to celebrate the newlyweds. But all nights come to an end, everyone standing outside the building to bid their farewell.

"Time for you guys to consummate the marriage huhhhh?" Jin winked, one arm clinging onto Hoseok's shoulder to keep him up straight.

"Itll be like any other night." Hoseok snickered, hissing when Jimin kicked his shin.

"Congrats on the marriage, guys." Jimin cheered, blowing kisses in the air to the sweet couple. "I'm very happy for you guys. Ahh.. I want to marry someday too."

"Maybe Mino will marry you." Jungkook giggled, his cheeks red from the alcohol heating him up, clinging onto Taehyung's arm like a child. He surely was bigger, but in a moment like this he seemed just so small and endearing. "See you guys later."

The couple waited for their cab, as neither were in a condition to drive, anxious to get home to their first night as Mr. And Mr. Jeon.

“Someone’s had a bit too many drinks..” Taehyung drunkenly chuckled, wrapping one arm around Jungkook’s loose shoulders to pull him in closer, out stretching his neck; in the lookout for their expected cab. Once the car finally pulled up, Tae slumped down on the backseat, throwing his head back with a tired groan. It’s been a long, exciting day; almost all of the elder’s energy was spent entertaining their guests. “Fuck, ‘m tired, husband..” Like a kid, Taehyung turned his head to gaze into the younger’s eyes, cheeky grin tugging at his lips. “Dunno if I’m gonna be able to fuck you dumb tonight.” Oh, Tae definitely could. Now that he was in a hazier mindset, messing with Jungkook seemed that much more amusing.. The elder might‘ve been tired; but he never got tired of Kook’s body, and tonight was no exception. “Shit, I was really gonna take my time with you and everything.. I was gonna make love to you, hard.” He forced out a defeated sigh, diverting his attention to the various lights outside.

Jungkook turned to look at Taehyung with his wide doe eyes, hands fiddling in his lap. He pouted. "But Taeeee...." he leaned in closer, hand reaching to tug at his husband's collar for attention. He really turned into such a baby when he drank with Taehyung. And maybe, just maybe it also had to do with the fact that they were horny newlyweds, he's been teased all day. "Tired? noo.. babe, we can wake you up. I'll wake youu uuup!"

“God, you’re so fucking cute..” Taehyung scooted closer to his tipsy husband, Tae’s distant laughter now coming across as raspier than before; the slight vibrations in his broad shoulders brushing against the side of Jungkook’s arm. “You’ll wake me up, huh..” Something else was already aroused awake, and the elder couldn’t bare to keep it a secret from Kook for much longer.. “I have an idea— of how you can wake me up, that is.” Taehyung pressed a small kiss onto the younger’s cheek, alert eyes trained upfront. “Wanna know what it is? Shit, why am I even asking, of course you do..” He pulled away from Jungkook’s ear, drunken-breath clashing against the latter’s clammy skin. “Get a feel, baby.” Tae cautiously led the younger’s hand to his bulge, ragged breath hitching in his throat. He was extra sensitive, and it was hard to not make much noise.. The driver would start to get suspicious. “Ah shit.. move your hand.” With a quick peek upfront, Taehyung undid his zipper, man-spreading for Jungkook. Luckily the back was dark enough, but there was always a chance of them getting caught..

Jungkook's eyes sparkled in the dark, biting down on his lower lip to prevent the needy whimper that threatened to escape his throat. He probably wouldn't admit it so openly, but there was something about the risk of getting caught that turned him on even more than if it would've been a simple wait for them to get home. Taehyung surely knew that though. Kook was his little exhibitionist. And the latter was ever grateful that the elder indulged in his deviant desires. "Can't believe I get to call you my husband." Jungkook whispered, voice more steady this time around. One hand still palming Tae’s bulge over his pants, his other hand snaked underneath the waistband for a direct contact, sighing out a shaky breath at the silky, soft yet hard length that throbbed in his hand. Kook has seen, tasted and touched Taehyung's cock what felt like a million times before, but there was no way he could ever get enough of it. Slowly, he stroked Taehyung's rigid length with lazy movements, relishing in the response he drew out from his husband in the form of twitchy hips, the struggle to remain silent.

“Fuck..” Taehyung’s tongue swiped over his lips, temporarily wetting the dry patches. He harshly tugged at his lower lip with his teeth, and the corner of his mouth twitched once as he held back a deep, thick growl. “My fuckin’ husband; you like this, don’t you? My sneaky baby.. jerking me off in the backseat of a stranger’s car. Dirty little thing.” The elder gently rocked his hips into Kook’s hand, looking down at the way the front of his pants would bulge outwards with every stroke. “So fucking good. You imagining it’s your ass wrapping around me, baby boy? Hm? Fuckin’ bet you wanna jump my bones; you wanna feel this big cock inside of you— fuuck..” Taehyung threw his head back, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Mmhm... shit, when you talk like that..." Jungkook rubbed his thighs together, uncomfortably adjusting his erection. "Drives me mad. My little ass is throbbing, clenching just thinking about your fat cock filling it up." Koo whispered into the elders ear, squeezing Taes turgid length a little harder, his hand getting more and more slick with every stroke, focusing his attention on the swollen mushroom tip than the rest of it, rubbing his thumb underneath the crease of the head. "I love you. Do you feel a bit more awake now?" He breathed out coyly, nuzzling his nose into Taehyung's neck. For one it could look like an innocent cuddle, little drunk koo just seeking leverage. But the innocence was nowhere to be found in either of the boys.

Taehyung’s nails sank deep into the fabric of his pants, feeling the strong muscles under his thigh shift into a clenched position. The way Jungkook’s thumb kneaded the spot under the reddened tip; accentuating his vigor— it had Tae losing it. Kook knew how much that gesture drove him insane. He also knew that it turned Taehyung on to the max; if the latter wasn’t in such a trance, he would’ve had to punish Jungkook for it. How dare he tease him in a situation like this one?— knowing Tae wouldn’t be able to fuck his brains out.. “Y-yeah.. more awake. Keep rubbing under there..” The elder grew harder in Kook’s hand, the rocking of his hips gaining more momentum. “O-oh.. fuuck.”

“Everything okay back there?”

Shit— shit! As if it could possibly hide the commotion going on inside of his pants, Taehyung’s hand instinctively covered over his bulge; looking like a wide-eyed idiot. He quickly turned to look at Jungkook, silently pleading with him to answer for the both of them. His voice would betray him, Tae was sure of it. Fuck, he just wanted to arrive at their expensive suite already and fuck his husband..

"All good, siiir! Just a little too much to drink!" Jungkook chirped back, keeping his eyes fixed on Taehyung's wide ones. Mischief was evident on Jungkook's expression, he was fucking thriving off of the risky situation, the embarrassment that could possibly dawn upon them. But Kook was confident the chance of actually being caught was more unlikely. "Don't worry so much, you're way too obvious..." Jungkook whispered, although he did enjoy the tension it provided. "I wonder if I could just suck you off right here?" He added lowly, eyes lowering to watch his hand resume it's work, squeezing and rubbing at the swollen head. He licked his lips, nodding to himself as he leaned down, his raven hair barely visible in the dark anyway. "Just gonna take a little nap til we arrive." He cooed out loud, quietly tugging down Tae's pants to release his length from the strain of fabrics. He sighed, the sound coming out as a quiet moan that only the elder could hear before directly taking the tip into his mouth, no teasing-- just as much as he could possibly take down his throat, tongue brushing against the velvety skin. He remains still, his gag reflex well trained throughout their years together, allowing the elder to just feel the wet warmth of Jungkook's fleshy mouth, like a good cock warming prep. Koo knew this would drive him mad, riled up to the max to get what he wanted in their bedroom later on; a desperate, rough, punishing fuck.

“Kook— wha.. a-ah..” Taehyung gasped; he didn’t expect Jungkook to actually go through with it, but now that the younger’s mouth lingered frozen around his heated cock, Tae found that to be even more surprising. Jungkook was really testing him.. “Fuck, babe quit playing and suck my dick..” His fingers wove themselves in through his husband’s long hair, tugging at its roots. Taehyung stared down at where Kook’s warmth engulfed his most sensitive body part, desperately trying to make out the younger’s swollen lips in the darkness. Still as cautious as ever, Tae’s eyes continuously flickered between the focused driver and his husband, slightly pushing downwards on Jungkook’s head. “Baby, fuck.. so warm, shit.” Taehyung felt as if he’d be able to stay like this forever.. “You’re taking in all of it like a champ, Jesus..”

As if Jungkook was cock-warming him, Tae threw his head back, eyes closed while he visibly relaxed. It was tempting to fuck the younger’s mouth, but after a long; eventful day, this was what Taehyung needed..

“So newlyweds, huh? How does it feel?”

The elder’s eyes immediately awakened, worried that the man would be able to see Jungkook through the rear view mirror. He pushed down on Kook’s nape, feeling the younger’s drool slither down his naked length. “Oh, uh.. it— it feels great.” Taehyung bit down on his rosy lip, slowly thrusting his hips upwards. Fuck, Kook was going to be the death of him.

Jungkook placed his hand on Tae's thigh, smoothing his hand in slow circles as a way of reassurance that he's fine. But of course, Tae knew the younger could take it all. He took a deep breath through his nose, swallowing tightly around the elders swollen length. The fleshy walls of his throat constricted, the light quiet sound of the younger gasping for more air more prominent. But Kooks hand remained soothing on Tae’s thigh. It was fine. He loved this. And, the fact that Taehyung was having a conversation with the driver only made it so much more entertaining.

"That is amazing. You two make a very handsome couple. I can hear the sighs of women from here when they see the two of you together." The driver chuckled lightly.

The moan scratching at the back of Taehyung’s throat converted itself into an awkward chuckle; his posture stiff as he relished in the comforting touch of Jungkook’s hand. “Y-yeah,” another forced laughter, “He’s very good.. very handsome. Lucky to have him— o-oh shit.” Tae felt his husband’s throat close in around him, and the elder insisted Kook could make out the saltiness of his precum. Shit, he was practically squeezing it out of him at this point, Jungkook was so fucking tight..

“Everything alright?” Of course the driver heard.

“Yeah— yeah, ‘m good.”

Taehyung’s tongue swiped over his lips, his fingers having yet to part from the younger’s hair. “Wanna feel you even more..” Subtly, Tae’s hips fucked into his mouth, the tip of his cock repeatedly prodding against the back of Jungkook’s throat. “Oh god..” His body’s rhythm was steady, but anything was better than nothing. The elder stared down at him, admiring the way the boy’s plush lips would occasionally graze the skin of his pelvis. Jungkook’s gag reflex had gotten better, and Taehyung was big— it came as an initial surprise for both. Now, they were used to it. While his dick stayed snug inside of Kook's mouth, the driver decided it’d be a good idea to continue asking them questions.

“Any plans for the future?”

“Uh, buy a house, raise a baby— things like that.” Normally Tae wouldn’t have answered so quickly, but he was desperate for the man to stop asking them questions..

“That’s amazing. Babies are a handful, I have two of them myself, so I wish you guys the best of luck!”

“T-thanks. We’ll need it.”

“How does your husband feel about that? Excited to raise a kid?”

“Yeah, babe. How do you feel about raising a baby with me?” If Jungkook could tease him, so could he. “Come on, wake up from your nap honey. It’s rude..”

Jungkook clawed at Taehyung's thigh for having the guts to force the younger to interrupt what he'd started. He really didn't want to separate his throat from Tae's cock. However, he did, slowly feeling the rigid length brush against his fleshy mouth as he pulled back to sit up straight, combing his fingers through his hair with one hand and wiping his teary eyes with the other. "Yeah,'' His voice came out hoarse. He padded his eyes with the back of his hand, instead acting as if he's so touched by the very thought of children. "Yeah I am very excited, can't wait to raise a child with him." Kook glanced over at the elder as he said so, he genuinely meant every word that rolled off his tongue. However, right now, there was a hint of his mischievous annoyance present. He wanted to tease more. Instead, he opted for simply... Not going back down, leaning back in his seat as he placed his hands in his lap, covering the throbbing bulge he's rocking of his own. Fuck, this car ride felt like it was taking forever...

"How sweet.'' The driver chirped as he finally pulled over by their street.

"Well, here we are. It was a pleasure talking to the two of you, I wish you the best of luck with your future. And congratulations on the marriage."

After seconds of just.. waiting for Jungkook to dive back down, Taehyung passed as an actual idiot. He expectantly stared at his husband, dick stiff as a pole— but without anyone to take proper care of it. When it became obvious that Kook wasn’t planning on continuing, Taehyung scoffed, tucking himself back in with a sour expression. This man..

Once the sight of the massive hotel came into view, Tae was eager to get out of there. He rummaged in his back pocket for his wallet before paying the driver, thanking him for the thoughtful wishes regarding their marriage. However, part of him felt guilty that the man remained clueless about what took place in the backseats, so Taehyung gave him a big tip. It didn’t completely get rid of his gnawing guilt, but it definitely helped..

“Thanks. Drive safe.” The elder waved at the man, an innocent smile on display until the car disappeared from their sight.

At that moment, Taehyung grasped onto Jungkook’s bicep, bringing him closer. “What the fuck was that?” He growled into the younger’s ear, “You didn’t even suck me off, that’s low, babe.” His bigger hand snuck down to Kook’s ass, giving it a firm squeeze. “You teased me a lot back there, I don’t wanna hear a word from you when I do the same. Now come on, let’s get checked in, then we’ll see if I’m still up for it..”

Being manhandled in this manner had Jungkook speechless, the one and only sound he dared to allow slipping past his suck-swollen lips was a breathy whimper. Now, it was no secret that the younger was physically the one at an advantage if he wanted to be-- but the thing is, he crumbled so easily with every word hissing through Taehyung's teeth. Jungkook nodded, keeping his gaze low on the ground as his lips curled up in a small smile, legs trembling with excitement. This little game, it was the perfect thrill. Would he get teased until he physically couldn't take it anymore? Would he be left tied up on the bed for hours upon hours? Or would the elder simlpy be too impatient and just fuck him into a dumb drooling mess?

Not knowing what to anticipate drove the younger mad.

Once they made it to the door of their premium suite, he patiently waited next to his husband who had the keycard to the door, eyes occasionally daring to look at how Tae practically oozed with frustration-- like a cloud of power that followed him all the way from the car. Kook licked his lips at the sight, a soft shaky breath all that left him as he shifted his weight on his feet, keeping his head low still. He wanted to feel small.

Taehyung turned on the doorknob, stepping into the neat space that’d soon turn into a mess. The elder was annoyed, and Jungkook knew how he got whenever something was on his mind, especially something like this.. “What are you doing still standing there? Get in.” No trace of fondness remained put in Taehyung’s naturally lower voice. Tonight, he’d put Jungkook through the merciless teasing that the younger showed him in the car; and Tae was going to enjoy every minute of it. After closing the door behind them, the elder loosened his bowtie, throwing it to the corner where his suit jacket laid. He turned around to face Jungkook, forcing the latter to stare into his eyes by redirecting his chin upwards.

He really looked too cute..

“Why are you so shy? You look so innocent..” Taehyung clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, withdrawing his hand from Kook’s chin. “But you’re far from innocent, and I think you know why.”

With a bratty smile, Tae made himself comfortable on the edge of the bed, unbuttoning the first few buttons of his top. “Why should I fuck you, hm? You’ve been nothing but a pain in the ass.” He made zero efforts to meet Jungkook’s eyes, playing uninterested.

Jungkook's doe eyes widened as he stepped closer to the elder until he stood in front of him, knees almost touching. He tried to meet Tae's eyes, but they kept avoiding him like the plague. And that alone ignited the needy fires within the younger-- he craved the attention even more when he was deprived of it. "Please, Taehyung." Jungkook's voice was low, a just audible enough whine. He dropped to his knees in front of Tae, still desperately attempting to feel his husband's gaze on him. "I'll be good, so good for you." He added, his hands already unbuttoning his own shirt after loosening his tie; eager to free himself from the restraints of the fabrics. Eager to feel Taehyung's clammy skin against his own at some point. Kook threw his shirt to the side, leaving his tie loose around his neck purposefully. He leaned in, placing his tattooed hands on Taehyung's thighs daringly as his sparkly gaze seeked attention. "I'll do anything to make up for it." He licked his lips as he said so, genuine in every sense of his words. "Mr. Jeon." He quirked a brow, liking how his name sounded when addressed to the elder, giving him a new level of authority that had Kook's cock throb beneath his dress pants.

Mr. Jeon..

Taehyung’s fingers tightly curled around Jungkook’s loose tie, roughly pulling the younger’s body upwards, unbothered to be the one who put in the effort to make their gazes clash. In this moment, Jungkook was his little doll; Tae got to handle him as he pleased. “Anything?” Their noses were practically touching whilst the elder’s hot breath fanned Kook’s flustered face, his eyes dead-set on the younger’s relaxed lips. “Call me that again.” Taehyung not only wanted to hear, but he wanted to see. The elder’s stare fell heavy on Jungkook’s lips, anticipating seeing the way they moved as Kook referred to him by such a commanding name. “Fuck.. say it.”

Jungkook licked his plushy lips deliberately slow before he inhaled deeply. "Mr. Jeon... Please, use me." He said with a low voice, his dark eyes still seeking for any attention. But knowing he wouldn't get it until the elder chose to, he settled for observing every little reaction he was able to draw out of him. He knew Taehyung didn't go unaffected, whether he acted like it or not. "Jeon Taehyung." He repeated the full name, this time it came out more like a strained sigh due to the tightness of the tie around his neck, eyes fluttering shut when he felt Tae's hand tug at the fabric controlling his airways.

Fuck, Taehyung couldn’t take it any longer; he had to have Jungkook. It was annoying— how the younger more often than not got away with whatever the hell he wanted, simply because of Taehyung’s undying hunger for the man.. But, who said the teasing had to end there? Surely not the elder. It was more fun that way.. Tae’s bigger hand unlatched itself from Jungkook’s tie, instead snaking around to the latter’s nape, sinking his fingers into the rigid skin before forcing their lips together. The kiss was anything but gentle, instead it reflected off of how Taehyung was feeling at the moment; needy, controlling— rough. “You’re gonna regret messing with me..” The elder mumbled in between their breathless kisses, the grip on Jungkook’s nape now more prominent, and so was the bulge in his tight pants. “You’re gonna listen to Mr. Jeon’s every word, got it?” Taehyung’s thumb caressed over the smooth skin of Kook’s cheek, feeling the warmth radiating from it. “Now undress me, but undo my zipper with your teeth. Hold eye contact throughout all of it, can you do that, puppy?” Not waiting for a clear answer, Tae comfortably leaned back on his arms, waiting for Jungkook to get started.

A spark of excitement swirled in Jungkook's dark gaze, eager to please and serve his husband. It was so fucking hot to see him this way, a nonchalant expression oozing of power, leaned back to showcase just exactly Jungkook was yet to unwrap for himself to see. Kook was confident, thrilled; and impatient. The mix had his hands trembling as he firstly finished the job of unbuttoning every single button on Tae's dress shirt, letting it freely fall to his sides to expose the firm yet soft torso that the younger had seen and admired countless times; yet every single time it felt new. "Yes, sir." Jungkook dragged his upper teeth across his lower lip as he lowered himself back on his knees between Taehyung's legs, eyes never wavering from his husbands. He clicked the initial button of the elders pants open before inching down to clasp the zipper between his bunny like teeth. Kook still stared up at the other male, desperate for any praise at all; and it showed in his eyes. And he was ready to work for it, there was no challenge the younger male wouldn't attempt to conquer. With every tooth of the zipper unraveling, the sound triggered his cock to pulse beneath his still intact pants. He both relished and cursed the slow pace of this, he craved to feel full, yet the journey there was just as exciting. When finished, he kept his teeth clamped on the little metal piece on the zipper, not daring to let go until ordered to do so.

“Have I ever told you how fuckin’ pretty you look when you’re obedient?” Taehyung purposely stayed back to watch Jungkook’s patient expression, knowing he could tell the younger to let go of his zipper whenever he wanted. “Now’s when you decide to be good, huh.. shit, so gorgeous..” The elder leaned forward, a shit-eating smirk tugging at his slightly swollen lips. “Let go.” Right as Kook was beginning to pull away, Taehyung’s palm pressed flat against his throat, gripping at Jungkook’s neck with his slender fingers. Although his grip was too strong to wriggle out of, Tae made sure it didn’t hurt Kook.. badly. “If you were so confident in the car, how ‘bout you prove to me just how deep you can go, hm?” Taehyung’s thumb pressed down harder at the receptive spot on the side of Jungkook’s neck, loving the way his husband seemed taken-aback by his actions. “Suck my cock, no games this time.” Growing impatient, the elder let go of his hold around Jungkook’s skin, expecting him to follow through; just like he always would.

"Yes." Jungkook gasped his word out the moment Taehyung withdrew from his throat, his throbbing erection aching so badly it almost hurt. He wanted to please so badly, he was thriving as he would remain feeling inferior throughout. He placed his hands firmly on Taehyung's thighs, using only his mouth to pick up the tip into his mouth, leaning forward to take the entirety of his husband's rigid cock down his throat, tongue brushing against the soft skin as he did so. Taking a deep breath through his nose, he wasted no time in hollowing his cheeks, sucking with an evident hunger as he began to slowly bob his head up and down. Every time his plush lips pressed against the elders pelvis, he'd feel his throat fight the girth in the form of constrictions, his eyes beginning to gather a layer of tears. He looked up at Taehyung as he withdrew, keeping the tip in his mouth as he swirled his wide tongue around it, only for him to move back down until the bulbous head prodded the back of his throat. Jungkook resumed his ministrations for as long as Taehyung would desire, the wet, loud sounds of the younger sucking with greed striking in the quiet room.

The muscles underneath Taehyung’s throat bobbed with every gulp he took, jaw slack as he watched Jungkook get to work; in a trance from the way his husband’s tongue circled around his head. Ever since they were younger, Kook always knew how to please him during a blowjob. The younger knew what he was doing, and it benefited them both. Those times they’d sneak out of the classroom only for Jungkook to get down on his knees— that feeling of infinite bliss and exhilaration never left. And now here they were, married, yet acting like the horny teenage boys they once were when they properly met... That’s how Taehyung felt with Jungkook; young.

“Shit.. you’re gonna fucking make me burst..” The elder threw his head back, the raspiness of his moans now accompanying the lewd sounds in the room. “You love my cock so much.. fuuck yeah, that’s it, good boy.” Taehyung relished in the warmth a bit longer, cheeks flushed with color. He could endure it a little more..

Jungkook pressed his thighs together at the sounds he managed to draw out of his husband, his muffled moans still caught in his throat. He took it upon himself to ease the pulsating ache between his legs by reaching down with one hand, unbuttoning his tight pants to seek some relief. Never once did he waver the rhythm he'd built up, skillfully sucking and licking Taehyung's turgid length as if he was worshipping the man himself. Kook snaked his hand beneath his own waistband, palming himself through his underwear to find even the slightest of friction, his teary eyes forcing a tear down his cheek to join the mess of drool and precum on his lips and chin.

Similar to a favorite movie of his, Taehyung found the sight below him so foreseeable yet so enticing. No matter how many times the elder’s seen Jungkook’s drool glisten down his skin, each time felt like the first. Kook was working so hard for him, maybe it was about time he did the same.. “Shit.. that’s enough.” With his hands on the younger’s shoulders, Taehyung withdrew his cock from Jungkook’s mouth, instantly missing the warmth it once provided. He gazed down at the thick layer of drool on his dick, and then back at Kook’s face— he looked beautiful like this, with rosy cheeks and watery eyes.. But Tae knew something else had to be done. “Strip for me, wanna see all of you..”

Jungkook gasps for air, not bothering to wipe his glistening chin at all as he gets up on his feet. His cheeks are flushed when he sees his own erection aching beneath the fabrics of his pants. His already exposed torso clammy from working hard on Tae's cock, messy hair and the loose tie gives him a sure look of a good, submissive boy. Now all that's missing is to show off just how badly he needs Taehyung. "Am I doing well?" Jungkook asks, fishing for more praise. His tattooed, long fingers curl around his pants as he pulls them down along with his underwear, allowing the fabrics to pool at his feet before stepping out of them. Now fully in the nude (except for the little cute tie around his neck), he takes a step to stand right in front of his husband, hands limp on his sides as he awaits what's next, cock twitching in anticipation.

“You’re doing amazing, baby..” Taehyung’s hooded eyes skimmed down Kook’s exposed, awkward stance; inhaling every inch of the younger’s skin as if it was smoke to his lungs. Jungkook was drop dead gorgeous— even in such a vulnerable state, he managed to make the elder’s breath hitch. Taehyung was sure that feeling would never, ever go away.. He never wanted it to. It kept things exhilarating between the two; it gave Taehyung a rush like never before. “You look so fucking cute with your tie.” A low chuckle emitted from deep down the elder’s chest whilst his feet moved on his own, breaking the small distance between their bodies. One of his hands landed on the side of Jungkook’s waist, and his pointer finger hooked itself underneath the flimsy fabric around Kook’s neck, drawing him in closer. Their cocks gently grazed over one another, the small contact having Taehyung bite down on his lower lip— his husband’s lower lip, anything to be more than close. “You turn quiet real quick, don’t you?” The elder breathed out against Jungkook’s neck, running the tip of his nose along the responsive skin. “Hope you’re less shy when I pound into you, wanna hear you.” In that instant, Taehyung harshly drove the younger’s back against the wall, caging his relatively larger build in between his own. No matter how much stronger Jungkook was; or how tough he appeared in people’s eyes, Tae knew the younger man would always be his baby boy.

Those doe eyes made Taehyung want to corrupt him again and again.

“So fuckin’ pretty, goddamn.” The elder’s mouth latched on to his husband’s sweet spot, sucking on the soft skin as if it was the last thing he’d do. Both of his bigger hands held Jungkook’s wrists above his head, stopping him from wriggling too much. “Gonna give you so many hickeys, want everyone to know what we came here to do.. and that’s fucking mark my territory.”

"Ah~ yes, I'm yours...." Jungkook's rosy lips parted in a needy whimper, muscles in his arms and torso flexing as he lightly tugged against the restraints that were Taehyung's hands-- however not hard enough to actually set himself free. He could.. but he did.not.want.to.. He was thriving to be Taehyung's good boy. His regular day to day life always consisted of being the big guy, the strong guy. The one in charge. And ever since they were teenagers, the elder was the only person who could reduce him into a whiny, needy boy that just wanted to be manhandled, praised, and properly and utterly fucked. Jungkook's breathy moans were growing heavy, eyes screwing shut as he deliberately focused on the way Tae's lips sucked on his skin-- and trying his best to ignore the borderline painful ache between his legs. He could practically feel the precum drool from the swollen head of his tip. But it was so much easier said than done, and the younger's well repeated words throughout the years slipped past his lips in a quiet whine. "More, please.."

Taehyung’s lips attached themselves to parts of the untainted skin of Kook’s neck, down to his collarbones and shoulders, where he stamped a bundle of kisses— ranging from big to small— along every shuddering dip and arch. “Such a good boy for me, I love you.” With one last look into Jungkook’s eyes, Tae spun the younger around on his feet, hands grabbing at his small waist. “Just wanna devour you whole..” The elder’s breath clashed against the other’s nape, feeling the delicate hairs of Jungkook’s skin brush against his nose in a feather-like touch. Everything Kook had to offer was intoxicating.. Taehyung nuzzled his face in the crook of his husband’s collarbone, one of his hands snaking around to where Jungkook’s aroused cock bobbed. His long fingers didn’t wait to wrap themselves around the thick girth, accumulating the precum at the tip, and smothering it down to the rest of his length.

“Don’t cum yet, alright~?” The elder pressed himself harder onto Kook’s ass, pushing the latter’s chest against the wall. His rock-hard dick stayed snug in between his husband’s cheeks, taunting him with painfully slow thrusts. “Fuck..” Taehyung flicked his wrist a couple of times, then proceeded to carefully stroke Jungkook’s wet cock— from the base to the tip. “Your moans are so fucking pretty, I wanna hear them all the time.”

"Oh, fuck... Tae.." Jungkook pressed his cheek against the wall, heavy huffs and moans slipping past his lips. His cock twitched happily in the elder's hand, finally receiving the attention he so badly craved. But it quickly turned out to be not enough. Not enough at all. "You're so good to me-- god.." kooks voice tore into a higher pitched moan when the elders cock pressed against his plump ass, arching his back to seek more, to silently beg for his husband to fuck him already. But he knew better than that, Tae wouldn't give in so easily; even if they both knew and desired just that. "You drive me crazy, I love you so mu-uch!" He tensed his leg muscles, desperately trying to hold back how fast his orgasm wanted to creep up on him, whining louder with every stroke provided by the other male. Kook imagined their first time in that dirty locker room, this position way too familiar-- yet so different. Tae back then compared to now was a completely different man; and yet parts remained exactly the same. Just like Taehyung, Jungkook felt younger with his husband, like they're still a pair of horny teenagers. Now, they're just older; and much better at what they're doing. "Please... baby, I need more." Kook glanced over his shoulder, his dark doe eyes pleading to the elder like a puppy. "Stretch my tight ass for you... I want your fat cock in me.."

Koo paused for a moment, grinding his hips back against Tae's cock-- "Daddy..."

“You know me too well, baby..” Taehyung growled into Jungkook’s ear, grunts muffled against the side of Kook’s neck as his hips gained momentum; feeling the delicate skin of his cock glide between Jungkook’s ass, continuously rubbing against his husband’s clenched entrance. “Oh fuck, daddy’s gonna make you feel so good.” His hand’s dragging motion faltered, “Well, he always does, doesn’t he?” Taehyung’s teeth tugged at the back of Kook’s tie, forcefully ungluing the younger’s tinted cheek from the wall, choking him in the slightest. With the piece of fabric securely clamped down in his mouth, Tae tauntingly tilted his head to the side, wearing a sly smile upon properly making out Jungkook’s shift in blissful expressions. He looked too fucking good.. The elder’s hooded glance was casted downwards, admiring how the tip of his cock would pop out with every upward drag, standing tall in between Kook’s cheeks. “Hngh..” Taehyung tugged harder with his teeth, nails sinking deep into the flesh of Jungkook’s hips.

"Y-yeah, always-- ahn...." Jungkook shamelessly rolls his hips against his husband's cock, legs quaking to keep himself up, hands firmly pressed against the wall to keep some kind of leverage as he gasps from the pressure against his neck as he's tugged back. "Please, now-- need more..haah..." He breathes out in a choked whisper, licking his lips until they shine as if they were glazed with gloss. His fingers curled against the wall, not caring that it'd cause marks if he kept going. Nothing else mattered, only the boys-- reckless and messy, just like they've always been. Now that Jungkook was deprived of the friction of Taehyung's hand on his cock, all he could think about was to feel his clenching hole being stretched and filled to the brim, his agile hips continuously grinding back deliciously against the elder, showing him what he's missing out on. "Just shove it in me, I'm dying without it." He pleaded once more, screwing his eyes shut as he prayed for the tease to soon be over with-- he swore he'd combust at any moment if he couldn't have it.

Taehyung’s rigid mouth let go of Jungkook’s tie, letting the damp fabric resume to its spot on the younger’s nape. Now that he was able to, Tae trailed open-mouthed kisses along Kook’s flexed shoulder blades, the fluttering of his eyelashes grazing the man’s soft skin. “Just a little longer, babe. You’re a big boy, you can handle it.” However, Taehyung himself didn’t know just how much longer he could take it either.. He was good at teasing, but it didn’t mean he didn’t want to rearrange Jungkook’s guts right then and there. The elder kept it up for a few extra seconds, continuing to grind against his husband’s ass; his dick sandwiched in between each rosy cheek. But those seconds felt like hours, and that’s when Tae called it off. “Not gonna shove it in you now, at least wait until we’re on the bed, will ya?” His chuckle caused his shoulders to vibrate, and his cock to twitch. “It’s our first time as husbands, let’s be a little classier~”

With one last squeeze to Jungkook’s ass, Tae led them both to the spacious bed, too high on the moment to part their hungry kisses. His hand securely clasped the back of his husband’s neck, deepening their kiss until the back of their shins met the wooden edge of the bed. Taehyung lightly pushed on Kook’s chest, urging him to lay on his back whilst he discarded his dress shirt that the younger had previously unbuttoned, lower lip clasped in between his teeth. Kicking off the pants and boxers pooling at his ankles, Tae proudly showed off his naked physique before situating himself above Jungkook, towering over the younger man. “So gorgeous.. so pretty.. so fuckable.” Despite their difference in size, Taehyung was used to manhandling Koo in the bedroom, so it came naturally. The elder liked to joke that carrying his buff husband around was the reason he’d been gaining extra muscle recently.. “Gonna stretch you out first, but with my tongue.. spread those legs wide for daddy, he wants a taste of you.”

Jungkook's cheeks flushed in pink at the praise and commands hurled his way, nodding as he did as told. Shuffling up further on the bed with his husband on top, he reached behind his knees to spread his legs wide for Taehyung, exposing everything he had to physically offer like a good boy. He just looked so small like this, it was pitiful yet endearing. "With your tongue...?" Kook meekly replied, leaning his head back comfortably against the soft duvet, the blush on his face spreading fast across his features. He felt a bit embarrassed, but... He wanted it. Taehyung was skilled in many aspects, and using his tongue was definitely one of them. "Taste me, please daddy...."

“Gladly, baby.” Taehyung could pinpoint Jungkook’s obvious embarrassment from a mile away, the redness in his cheeks drawing all the more attention to his body’s natural reaction. The elder could relate, but he also knew that at the end, Koo’s initial uneasiness would soon turn into pure lust; Taehyung knew how it went— all too well, in fact. “You look so pretty all spread out for me, yeah you do.. fuuck.” Tae pressed his hands against the backside of Jungkook’s muscular thighs, leaning downwards to meet his feast in the eyes. “So pink ‘n untouched.. but not for long.” The elder’s wet tongue lapped over his husband’s clenched entrance once, giving each of them a small sample of what was to come. “So sweet, too..” Tae’s chaste kisses were sensual around the rim, his fingernails digging deep into Kook’s flesh whilst he steadied himself on his knees.

A drawn out moan passed through Jungkook's parted lips, pressing his head back against the bed. His hands withdrew from his thighs to allow the elder to take over the grip of his legs, his own hands vulnerably laying above his head. His hips jerked lightly at the sensation, his tight entrance twitching from the welcoming warmth teasing around it. "Mmh, yeah.. Feels good.." Koo announced his pleasure in small, breathy whines, indulging in the way his husband is taking care of him, worshiping his body like it was his last meal in this life. Jungkook glanced down at Taehyung, and the sight had his cock throbbing. The elders dark fringe dangled over his eyes, strong arms holding Kook's legs up, the lower part of his face hiding to please and tease with one of Jungkook's most sensitive parts. "Fuck, you're so hot.." Koo was already losing any sense of embarrassment, all he could feel was the overwhelming lust drowning him-- tunnel visioned on his husband, and his husband only.

“Fuck, I know,” Tae outwardly agreed like the cocky bastard he was, allowing his mouth to linger close to the milky skin of Jungkook’s thighs, ghosting over the smooth flesh with his plush lips. “Gonna finger you first, I know how much you love that.” The elder’s tongue slightly peeked out of the corner of his lips, switching his utmost attention to Koo’s hole; and as if an indescribable pull had taken over his senses, Taehyung’s middle finger sank in without a warning. The man was still leaning down, too focused on the way Jungkook swallowed his slender digit to look away. Soon enough, Tae added in another finger.. and another; and like a small child in a candy store, he was amazed by how much his husband could endure. His eyes were shining with anticipation, mouth watering from the simple sight.. The scissoring motions inside of Kook came to a halt, and as soon as he pulled out his dripping digits, Taehyung’s lean tongue snuck its way past the gaping opening. It was a new feeling.. he’d eaten out plenty of girls before in his High School days, but having his tongue deep inside of Koo felt new— not necessarily a bad kind of new. Shit, he was so warm and.. pleasant. Taehyung’s eyes were fluttered shut, relishing in the way he flicked his tongue in the compact space, scolding himself for not doing this sooner.

"Yeah, yea- oh god..." Jungkook's moans from the familiar fingers broke into a gasp at the new sensation of Taehyung's warm, wet, firm tongue smoothing his insides, his thighs trembling in Tae's hands. "Holy shit..." Koo almost chuckles in disbelief at the fact they hadn't done this the other way sooner, placing his hand over his face to wipe his clammy skin, cheeks flushed red. "I see why you like this so much now, wow..." Jungkook ran his fingers through his hair, slightly dry from the residue of the product, taking deep breaths as he closed his eyes, allowing himself to truly focus on the wet muscle exploring his most intimate parts. "Feels so good.."

The constant shower of praise and moans of approval amped up Taehyung’s slowly diminishing confidence. He didn’t know if he was doing any good— until Koo decided to open his mouth. He gripped tighter onto his husband’s inner thighs, knuckles turning white from his secure handle. The elder’s skilled tongue lapped at every reachable inch of Jungkook’s insides, humming in pure delight at the new taste he’s grown fond of. It didn’t take long, once and Taehyung was hooked.. “Oh wow, you taste so fucking good,” Tae murmured under his heavy breath once he’d pulled away for a quick second, gathering extra spit in his mouth before aiming at Kook’s swollen hole. He placed kitten licks on the entrance, lips slightly puckered as he roughly fucked his tongue in and out of Jungkook, one hand sneaking up to toy with the younger’s warm balls.

Jungkook's hands instinctively reached for Taehyung, combing his fingers through his dark curls as his moans had gradually grown breathier and louder. "Uh huh-- shit, you're so good at that.." Jungkook mindlessly spits his verbal reassurance of the pleasure he's put through, his words coming out as high pitched whines. Kooks hips squirm for more, greedy and needy in every sense of the word. He was an absolute puddle for his husband, always have been, always will be. "I love you, I fucking love you... please, need your cock so bad, noooow..."

The elder withdrew his mouth from Jungkook’s ass, warm spit glistening around his blood-fueled lips and the tip of his nose, making Taehyung look all the more fucked as he gazed down at Kook; making a show out of the way he slipped his tongue back in his mouth, moaning deeply whilst he savored the rest of his husband. Didn’t taste overly sweet, and that Taehyung liked.. “Wanna eat you out everyday now..” Koo’s pink entrance was slick from Tae’s previous work, the rim spread wide enough for him to poke the head of his cock through— “Shit..” Taehyung’s tip was immersed in between Jungkook’s flesh, and soon enough was the rest of his long, thick length. The younger always takes him in so well.. The first time 18-year-old Tae slipped inside of Kook might’ve been a lot to take in, but they’ve both gotten used to each other’s bodies throughout the years they’ve been together.

“Fuck, you good?” Taehyung’s veiny hand guided his dick to a more comfortable position, his long fringe falling down to his eyes. “I love you so fucking much, Koo, fuck.” The elder threw his husband’s legs over his broad shoulders, resting his muscular arms beside Jungkook’s head before beginning to grind into his man, starting at a slow pace. It was their honeymoon.. it had to be somewhat romantic. “I can’t believe you’re my husband— hngh..” Tae grunted out loud, “I-I can’t wait to have a family with you, yeah.. fuck, wanna grow old with you ‘n do everything t-together— so tight..”

"Mhm, yes." Jungkook nodded, his calloused fingers grasping around Taehyung's lower arms tightly, blunt nails digging into the skin for his own sake, he needed to claw at something to release the overwhelming warmth that spread throughout his body. "So good, I love you-- shit, I love being your husband." Koo's eyebrows were tightly knit together as he stared up at Tae with his doe eyes, his blurry vision glazed over with every single emotion he could possess at a moment like this.

Lust, love, relief.

He was just as whipped for the man on top of him as he'd always been, for years already-- and he had no doubt that this was his forever after.

Jungkook bit back a raspy moan when Tae's cock finally started to tease at his prostate, eyes fluttering in bliss, struggling to keep his gaze focused any longer, simply drowning in how amazing it felt to feel his husband's hips grind into him with the utmost affection. It was fantastic, but knowing the younger man-- slow only pleased him for so long... "A-ah, your cock is so big... I love it, fuck, more... Please, Mr. Jeon.." He purred, deliberately clenching his warm flesh around the elder's turgid length, the hint of mischief sparkling in the younger's eyes.

Tae burrowed his face in the crook of Jungkook’s neck, their bodies’ shine mingling with one another whilst Taehyung sweetly kissed the pale skin, tasting the slight saltiness of his husband’s sweat on his lips. He licked over them, allowing them to hang open as grunts and groans made themselves known in the room. The elder wasn’t shy when it came to the noises he made in the bedroom; he wanted to let Koo know just how good he was making him feel.. His husband held a tight grip on his cock, causing it to twitch in anticipation as Tae gradually thrusted deeper into him. “Love it when you call me that— hmph..!” His balls smacked harder against the younger’s ass, squelching sounds taking over the invisible bubble they’ve made for themselves. “Fuck..” It came out as a hoarse whisper, and one of Taehyung’s hands snuck between their bodies to grasp onto Jungkook’s cock, giving the stiff skin a few delicious strokes. “So good..”

"Aa-aah*..!" Jungkook snapped his head from one side to the other, pressing his flushed cheek against the bed. His body trembled like a leaf at the added sensation, a drawn out moan in relief, finally touched where it ached the most. He felt like he'd been a really good boy then and there to finally earn this as a reward. "I f-feel good? fuck--" His voice was strained and wobbly, every thrust choking his words. "Tell me, tell me please... How good I make you feel."

Koo knew already, the sounds his husband was making gave him no doubt about the pleasure his body brought upon the elder. But Jungkook loved to verbally hear it. Almost like back when Taehyung had gone overseas, and all they had were FaceTime. Even though they could easily look at each other through their screens-- the verbal aspect of it was Kook's favorite. And it stuck with him since, hearing that deep voice his husband possessed tell him the most filthy of things, and the highest of praise; it turned Jungkook on.

Taehyung’s head tilted upwards, the fringe no longer as smooth. Instead the dark hairs stuck together by a thin layer of sweat on his creased forehead, giving him little access to truly look into Jungkook’s doe eyes whilst he grumbled out his next words; “Your insides are always so fucking tight, no matter how many times I push my cock in you— hngh.. it never fails to drive me crazy..” The elder snapped faster into Koo, having yet to withdraw his hand from Jungkook’s dick whilst he thrusted into him at an animalistic pace, feeling the head of his cock prod at his husband’s abused prostate. “You’re so warm, too.. the warmest I’ve felt in a really long fuckin’ time. Fuck.. so soft. You make me feel so good.” Still jerking Koo off, Tae’s mouth wrapped around one of the boy’s nipples, swirling his wet tongue around the bud before lightly nibbling on it. He quickly flicked the awakened nip with his tongue, humming into the skin.

"Fuck yes, oh my good, Taehyung..." Jungkook's whiny moans turned into sobs, his abs flexing as they tightened in rapture, the pool of heat quickly ramping up in his lower abdomen. The continous prodding of his sensitive prostate drove him mad. "I'm gonna c-cum, I'm clo-ose, ahhn..." His eyes were filled with desperation, sparkling with the layer of tears and admiration swirling within them. He was completely transfixed on his husband, absolutely whipped for the attention his body is given in so many various ways at the moment. Taehyung's cock, his mouth, his hand. It was overwhelming as hell. Jungkook could easily feel his own cock drool with precum, his thick length swelling to full hardness as if it was about to explode at any moment. All he needed was just-- one. small. push.

Taehyung’s release was also knocking at his door, begging to be spread across Jungkook’s fleshy insides as every thrust of his cock dragged Tae’s energy down bit by bit. “G-gonna cum inside, so close..” Eager to make Koo break down along with him, Taehyung’s grip on his husband’s dick tightened, feeling the stickiness of the younger’s precum cover his fidgeting fingers; easing the slide of his sore hand. “I love you, I love you— a-ahh.. fuuck I-I’m cumming so much.” Spurts of warm white shot into Jungkook, dribbling out of the latter’s entrance as it was too much to hold in despite his cock staying still in its place.

“Wow.. so, does this officially make us husbands now?” The elder’s voice was raspy as he teased, breath hitching once he pulled out of Jungkook to lay on his back, chest heaving whilst he blankly stared at the ceiling. It felt different, yet not different at all.

Jungkook's clammy chest heaved up and down and placed one hand on top of his skin, mindlessly rubbing at his peck as he chuckled. The aftermath of his own orgasm still pulsated in his softening length, the pool of his release warm on his lower stomach. "Yeah, it does." Kook's voice was just as hoarse. He turned his face towards his husband with a small, toothy grin on his face. They were both exhausted, definitely sobered up, and.. sticky, to say the least. But, content nonetheless. Jungkook couldn't have imagined a better way to spend their first wedding night together.

"Hey." His voice lowered, eyes heavy on the elder as he scuffed closer, pressing a soft kiss on Tae's arm.

"I love you. Can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you, Mr. Jeon."

#fic: wedding night #taekook smut #vkook smut #taehyung x jungkook #boymeetsmxm #bangtanarmynet #bts smut #bts mxm #taehyung smut #jungkook smut #dom taehyung #sub jungkook #sombreboy

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castielslostwings · 5 years ago

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All I Want For Christmas (Are Earplugs)

Ficlet: 3k of fluffy, explicit (at the end) Christmas-y DeanCas.

The challenge: "Write something about Cas being stuck in the gas n sip where "All I Want For Christmas is You" plays on an endless loop for 3 months until he's nearly homicidal 😂 ...and then dean shows up and they bang in the storeroom while it's playing and the song is still awful and plays every 45 minutes but at least Cas has a positive memory to associate with it now!"

Read it on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21656614

Or check out this excerpt (cut because Tumblr will eat my smut):

Corporate doesn’t even hold off until Thanksgiving is over to move onto Christmas, not anymore. In the age of instant gratification and having everything a person could possibly want only a finger swipe away, waiting until after Thanksgiving to break out the Christmas theming would render it all relatively pointless. Thus, the day after Halloween, that’s when it starts these days. Castiel doesn’t get it, not really, especially considering the Gas’n’Sip is, well, a gas station. No one is looking to their shelves for holiday sales and the opportunity to grab this season’s hottest items before they sell out. Not unless one considers snack cakes and travel-sized tubes of toothpaste to be the perfect holiday gifts. Not that Castiel’s judging.

It’s just that those realities make the auditory horror Castiel’s subjected to for nearly three months straight all the more baffling. Why he has to suffer so the Gas’n’Sip can claw uselessly at retail relevance is beyond his understanding. It’s not as if they’re succeeding. That little “Last Minute Gifts!” display doesn’t get any sort of play at all until the twenty-third, and even then people have to grimace their way through choosing between cheap shower product sets and crappy mugs with teddy bears holding chocolates stuffed inside them. By November first, Castiel’s already practicing the most tactful ways to interrupt those poor procrastinating saps and suggest simply buying lottery scratch-off tickets.

The thing is, the decorations aren’t so bad. A little tinsel here, a few red glittery signs there, couple of candy-filled endcaps with Santa theming, whatever. Even the little Christmas tree that sits next to the register and Castiel can’t stop knocking into with his elbow every time he goes to make change is more festive than frustrating. None of those things are particularly bothersome at all. In fact, Castiel barely even notices them (aside from diving to catch the tree and keep it from crashing to the ground every ten minutes). And the twinkling, color-changing string lights that Castiel spent the better part of a day stapling around the top of the store, along the windows, and over the register are actually fairly enjoyable to look at. So much so that he strung a set around the shelves of the storeroom for when he’s stuck back there organizing or doing inventory. Very cheery.

But the songs. The songs are the worst. Well, no, that’s not exactly it either. The holiday songs on the corporate-provided CD that loops endlessly on a forty-five minute spiral in the background definitely still play in Castiel’s head long after he’s dumped the coffee, turned out the lights, and locked the gas station doors. They infiltrate his quiet moments in the evening after he’s returned home, dance across his mind obnoxiously when he should be enjoying his free time away. It’s only the beginning of December and already Castiel’s starting to lose his mind. Last night, full of a spectacular dinner and tucked warm and snug in bed with Dean squirming underneath him, Castiel was screwed out of an actual orgasm by the painfully catchy crooning of Mariah Carey relentlessly belting out those high notes in his head.

Because really, at the end of the day, it’s not all the holiday songs, it’s that holiday song. The bane of retail workers everywhere, Castiel’s sure of it, “All I Want For Christmas Is You” is single-handedly making his holiday season as un-merry as it could possibly get. A grating earworm that’s starting to feel more “nails on a chalkboard” than singing at all, Castiel’s forced to enjoy it on a repeat cycle every forty-two-point-five minutes of every single workday. And now, it’s messing with his off-time, his intimate evenings with Dean, those relax and reset moments that Castiel counts on to get him through the next day and the one after that. Retail is hard enough on a regular old Tuesday, never mind during the holiday season when everyone’s so desperate to squeeze in as much merriment as possible that they’re willing to steamroll right over people like Castiel to do it.

Most of the time, Castiel doesn’t mind being a faceless cog in the machine, hell, he enjoys it some days. There’s a quiet dignity in his job, in providing food and fuel for weary travelers just trying to get from Point A to Point B. Keeping the coffee pot full, the hot dogs warm, the cigarette cartons stacked. Perhaps other people might look down on him for being satisfied with that type of work, that type of life, but Castiel has no interest in what other people think of him. Well, anyone besides Dean, of course. And Dean loves him, is proud of him, and that’s more than enough to make his days, every single one of them, merry and bright.

So it would be Castiel’s preference that he subsists through the rest of the Christmas season without murdering the one man who makes his existence tolerable, and that fucking song is beginning to threaten that theoretically simple wish.

Today, for instance, it’s four in the afternoon and Castiel is working a double. Which means that since the Gas’n’Sip opened its doors at six AM, Mariah Carey’s syrupy-sweet caroling has set his teeth on edge going on fourteen times. Fourteen. Chinese water torture would be kinder. Two hours and two more rounds of the nightmare in G Major later, Castiel texts Nora, his manager, and begs her to let him change the music. “ Just for the today, just for the rest of my shift”, he pleads, even going so far as to say he’ll tune the radio to their local Christmas music station.

Nora sends back, “ LOL, Castiel you’re so funny”, and Castiel dies a little bit inside. Business is slow and the lackluster trickle of customers comes to a stop completely around ten PM, leaving an entire hour for Castiel to count down the minutes to the next time that awful song is going to play without any kind of distraction. When the bells tied to the doors finally jingle signaling a customer around ten forty-five, relief doesn’t even come close to what Castiel feels. That doubles when the face that appears across his countertop is Dean’s.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel says warmly, and he’s not exaggerating when he thinks he may never have been happier to see the man. Although, it’s never unpleasant to see Dean.

“I'll have some beef jerky and a pack of menthols,” Dean replies cheekily, leaning across the counter for a kiss which Castiel gladly provides. Not the menthols, though.

“Funny,” he murmurs and then sighs heavily. “Dean, I’m going to lose my mind if I have to put up with this—” Castiel jams his finger in the direction of the ceiling speaker above his head, “ Horror show for another three weeks.”

Dean looks up from where he’s fingering the different flavors of Bubble Yum and slides a pack across the smooth surface, reaching for his wallet to pay. Castiel waves him off, grabs a couple of singles from his own pocket and runs the transaction absently. “It can’t be that bad,” Dean says and Castiel’s fingers halt mid-button-push.

“My ears feel like they’re bleeding, Dean,” he protests with a glare. “Every forty-two-point-five minutes exactly it comes on and I’m in hell.” Clocking Dean’s badly-suppressed smirk, Castiel works his jaw and folds his arms across his chest. “Perhaps I’ll call Bobby and offer him a free month of advertising in the Gas’n’Sip window. All he’ll have to do is play a particular CD on repeat in the auto-repair bay from tomorrow until Christmas.” Satisfied with the way Dean’s face pales and the smirk disappears, Castiel feels absolutely no need to remind him that approving free advertising isn’t remotely in his job description. Honestly, if Dean can’t figure that out from the knowledge that he isn’t so much as allowed to change the store’s chosen music, that’s on him.

“Don’t mess with my classic rock, Cas,” Dean warns him. “Some shit is sacred, you know.” Annoyed again, Castiel raises his hands and gestures around him emphatically. “Alright, alright,” Dean relents. “I see your point, it sucks.” Sucking his lip distractedly in between his teeth, Dean glances around the store. “So, where are your security cameras at?”

Rolling his eyes, Castiel points to several different corners and just above his head behind the register. “There, there, there, and there. Don’t you think if I could have moved them, I would have? Changing their direction sends a notification straight to Nora’s phone.”

“That’s not what I—what about the storeroom? There any cameras there?”

Castiel narrows his eyes and regards Dean curiously. “No… There was one, but it broke weeks ago and Corporate hasn’t yet responded to Nora’s service request.” With a mild hum and another glance around that includes a sweep of the deserted parking lot outside, Dean wanders over to the doors and locks them. “Dean?” Castiel doesn’t protest, just watches as Dean flips the sign that says, “Back in 5 minutes!” Castiel rarely uses it himself, but every so often nature calls and the store has to be locked in the meantime. It’s interesting that Dean remembers that.

“C’mon,” is all Dean says on his pass back through the store, reaching out to grab Castiel’s arm and tug him out from his little alcove and across the floor to the storeroom.

“Dean, what—”

“How long until that song plays again?” Dean asks as he pulls Castiel inside and shuts the door behind them.

Checking his watch, Castiel does some quick mental math as well as cocks his head to listen for whatever song is playing now. “It’s next,” he groans, but Dean just grins.

“Awesome timing,” he replies, grabbing Castiel’s waist and manhandling him around until his back is up against some stable-looking shelving. “We’re gonna play a game, alright?” Dean’s bright green eyes are sparkling and shining and Castiel definitely knows that face. He also knows he should stop him, should tell Dean no to whatever mischievous thing he’s plotting, but it is only minutes to closing time and hell, Castiel’s day has been pure, undiluted shit.

“What sort of game?” Castiel asks, unable to keep the note of amusement out of his voice as he watches Dean’s eyes dart down to his own lips. Without answering, Dean leans in, kisses Castiel’s bottom lip and then his top, pulls back just far enough to look down and slot their groins together in a way that won’t have anyone’s belts causing unwanted, painful havoc. Then he’s back, tongue poking at the seam of Castiel’s mouth, and despite everything, Castiel recognizes that this is Dean asking for permission. If he really doesn’t want to do this, in his store or at all, he need only close his mouth.

As much as he appreciates the asking, though, Castiel knew what he was getting into when he stepped inside the storeroom. Dean has a bit of an exhibitionist side, and this isn’t their first rodeo in a semi-public space. Though the likelihood of being walked in on is extremely low, there’s still a bit of a thrill Castiel gets over doing something naughty, and maybe he’s more into it than he lets on. The whole concept has him hardening up nicely and Dean’s grinding isn’t hurting either, but just as they’re setting a pretty nice pace, the first notes of The Song come on.

Growling into Dean’s mouth, Castiel reluctantly pushes him back. “I can’t,” he says, frustrated. “I don’t want to associate having sex with you with this demonic lullaby.”

Read the rest on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21656614

#destiel #ficlet #christmas #holidays #deancas #my fic #all i want for christmas (are earplugs)#fic rec #castielslostwings

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purplesurveys · 5 years ago

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801

1. Candyland: What is your favorite type of candy? Gummies. I’m not really into chocolate or caramel candies. 2. Chutes & Ladders: Do you have a fear of going up on ladders? Does your house have a laundry chute somewhere? I’ve never had to climb up a ladder but I do think I could just as well have a fear of it since as a kindergartener I was always afraid of going up the jungle gyms. I don’t know what a laundry chute is. 3. Operation: How many surgeries have you had in your lifetime? Zero, thank goodness. The idea of having to be put under and then being sliced open makes me feel faint lmao. 4. Sorry!: Do you sometimes apologize, even when it’s not your fault? Yes, abusive people can make you pick it up as a habit. 5. Game of Life: What is your greatest accomplishment thus far? What do you hope to do with the rest of your life? I count getting into my university as my biggest accomplishment so far, but I know I can still do so much more. I don’t really have a specific career goal, but I do want to ultimately be the best at whatever job I end up in and to be the happy with whoever I end up becoming.

6. Cootie: Did you really used to think that boys/girls had cooties? No...I never heard of those until I was ten watching American cartoons. 7. Trouble: What is something big that you got into a lot of trouble for? My algebra grades in high school. I almost flunked freshman algeb and nearly had to go to summer school. Math was never my strong suit in those days, heh. 8. Puzzles: When was the last time you felt puzzled/confused? How often do you feel like you don’t fit in? The other day while making Gab’s surprise birthday video. I had never made a video before, so the program itself was very foreign to me and at first I doubted I could ever come up with anything. Luckily my sister, who is in film school, was such a big help in helping me get acquainted with the different features and buttons haha. As for feeling like I don’t fit in, I haven’t really felt that a lot in the last couple of years. Other than my experience with AIESEC, I’ve been a lot better in dealing with different groups of people and adjusting to their interests and personalities. 9. Hungry Hungry Hippos: What’s your favorite meal to eat? A nice juicy burger usually works for me. 10. Uno: Can you count to ten in another language? If so, which language? Filipino, Spanish, and Korean. 11. Go Fish!: Have you ever been fishing before? No. I've always lived in the city so I’ve never been exposed to fishing. It’s very common for those living in the province, though. 12. Old Maid: Did you ever have a maid in your house, growing up? We had house help for a short time when we first moved into our house. But because my mom is super organized and very particular about it, we went through like 15 house help in total before she realized she’d rather do everything herself. There were three who stayed longer than a few months because my mom found them very good, but they all wanted to go back to the province eventually so we had to give them up. Most stayed for like a day or two, a week at most. 13. Simon Says: Did you always do everything you were told as a child? I think so, yeah. 14. Red Light, Green Light: When you approach a yellow light, are you more likely to slow down or speed up? Depends if I’m in a hurry or not. 15. Are you any good at jump rope, hopscotch, or hula hooping? Have you ever used a pogo stick before? I can do the first three. I’ve never used a pogo stick and have only seen it in cartoons. Looks fun but I also know I’d break my bones using them lol. 16. Do you prefer chalk or bubbles? Two very different things, but I remember loving bubbles as a kid. My only encounter with chalk was when we’d draw a hopscotch court on the ground, so yeah not a lot of interaction with it. 17. Did you used to go on a lot of bike rides as a child? Not really. My lola always told us we couldn’t go too far away from home, so I followed her. 18. Capture the Flag: What is your country’s flag? What about your state’s flag, if you have one? The Philippine flag has a white triangle at the left side with three stars symbolizing our three main islands, and a sun with its eight rays symbolizing the eight provinces that had big contributions in the 1896 revolution against Spain. On the right, the flag is divided into blue on top symbolizing peace, and red symbolizing patriotism. The two colors can be switched depending if the country’s at war. 19. Tic Tac Toe: When you played, were you the “hugs” or the “kisses”? I dunno, I picked whatever symbol I felt like picking if someone would ask me to play. 20. Have you ever won a game of Marco Polo in the pool without cheating? I’ve never played Marco Polo because I don’t know how the game works. Not very common here. 21. Scrabble: Are you any good at spelling? Yes. I was That student who aced all the spelling quizzes in English class lol. 22. While playing rock, paper, scissors, which do you usually throw down first? I always mix it up. 23. Were you always stuck being the pickle in the middle? I don’t know what this means. 24. Limbo: How low can you go? We never really played this. 25. When playing, did you usually pick “Truth” or “Dare”? Truth, because I have no problem telling it and people usually pick pretty shitty dares for you to do. 26. Have you been involved in any innocent games of Spin the Bottle or 7 Minutes in Heaven? No. Not common games here. I didn’t even know about 7 Minutes in Heaven until I watched 13 Going on 30 when I was like, 14 lolol. 27. Twister: Are you a flexible person (figuratively or literally)? I’m not very physically flexible. I can adjust for a lot of situations, though. 28. Did you used to pretend that the floor was lava? Kinda? In my old school there was a line pattern on the school grounds, and when I would walk I’d try not to hit any of the lines. 29. Guess Who: Are you any good at guessing games? Sure. 30. Clue: Do you think that you would be able to successfully solve a murder case? No, I don’t really like brainteasers like those. 31. Mouse Trap: Have you ever felt trapped before, in some way? Of course, in various ways. I’ve felt trapped at home, in my course, in my own head, etc. 32. Labyrinth: Have you ever gotten lost in a maze? No, that sounds terrifying and just reminds me of The Shining, eugh. 33. Jenga: Are you careful about what choices you make in life? I try to not be reckless, at least. 34. Bop it or Skip-it? Neither. 35. Tag: Are you in shape? Do you enjoy running? I wouldn’t say I am, but my body is also not in an unhealthy shape. I hate running. 36. Kickball: Did you kick the ball over the fence a lot as a kid? No. Houses here don’t really have fences. 37. Are you any good at mini-golf? No, never played. 38. Telephone: What do you do with a rumor once it’s been told to you? I didn’t really get a lot of rumors about me. The one time I did, it was so stupid I told our head teacher about it to put it to rest immediately. 39. Hide and Seek: Have you ever hid so well that it felt like it took somebody forever to find you? What was your best hiding spot? No. I don’t like making people nervous for too long. I didn’t have a hiding spot. 40. What Time Is It, Mr. Fox?: When were you old enough to tell time on an analog clock as opposed to a digital one? Hahahaha I don’t actually remember. I wanna say 8 years old? 41. Mother May I: Did you always ask your parents for permission? Yes. Always better for them to know what I’m up to than sneaking out and being caught. 42. Follow the Leader: Can you be bossy at times? I can be bossy all the time. 43. Monopoly: Are you good with your money/finances? If I absolutely have to save, like if Christmas is coming up, I’ll surprise myself at how good I can be. Most of the time though I like treating myself :/ Lmao. 44. Chess: Have you ever wanted to be king/queen? Only when I was younger. I’d wear a blanket around and pretend it was a cape. 45. Play-doh or Slime? Ooh that’s a toughie, those are my favorite kinds of toys. I did grow up with Play-Doh though and even had a Play-Doh Factory, so I’d go with that. [a-zebra-is-a-striped-horse]

#survey #surveys

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idristardis · 7 years ago

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The Writing’s On The Wall - CSLB

Summary: Normally quiet and sleepy, Storybrooke, Maine has been going through the polar opposite of a crime wave. There hasn't been even so much as an incident of shoplifting in MONTHS. Until the day an anonymous graffiti artist starts leaving murals and street art all over prominent town buildings. Who's behind it? Why don't the townspeople want to press charges if/when the "vandal" is caught? And what does all of this have to do with Sheriff Emma Swan and local bakery owner Killian Jones?

Rating: Mild T (mainly for a little kissin’ and a little swearin’)

Word Count: 15,000 on the nose!

Possible triggers: I’m not really sure I’d consider these triggers, but this fic does contain mentions of past!Millian and past!Gremma (both in a positive light) and past!Swanfire (in a negative light), so if none of those things float your boat, I’d recommend taking a miss on this one.

Tropes: Mutual pining, friends-to-lovers, modern au (no magic), Henry-being-too-smart-and-cute-for-his-own-good, Zelena-being-Zelena, the author makes many jokes (lovingly) at Will Scarlet’s expense.

Background pairings: Snowing, Outlaw Queen, Frozen Jewel.

A/N: It’s hard to believe this day is finally here!! I felt like I ate/slept/breathed this fic for so long and then ended up having to wait the whole month of February to post, lol. Seriously, though, it’s humbling to be the “grand finale” of the CSLB, and I only hope my work lives up to the honor. This month has once again proved the depth and breadth of talent possessed by the writers and artists in the OUAT and CS fandoms. You guys all rock and should be very proud of what you’ve achieved!!

This fic was a labor of love - and it’s the longest thing that I’ve written and completed in forever - so I am extremely excited to share it with you all. I couldn’t have done it without my amazing beta, Hollie aka @the-captains-ayebrows who helped me refine the plot and pacing in so many ways - this story wouldn’t be half of what it is without her input - and my wonderful artist, Bianca i.e. @shipsxahoy who made the beautiful banner at the top of this post and a seriously awesome gifset that you can find HERE. I also want to thank the mods and the entire team at the @captainswanbigbang for running such a wonderful CSLB event (and for putting up with my frequent down-to-the-wire check ins and over-the-top word counts). You ladies have done a wonderful job and I’m so grateful to have been a part of it!! Now, without further ado (too late!!), The Writing’s On The Wall.

Also on AO3.

February 13th - Midday...

In retrospect, Emma thought, I really should have seen this coming.

Life in Storybrooke had been quiet – almost freakishly so – for the last few months. Not that the small, sleepy coastal Maine town she called home was normally a hotbed of criminal activity, but usually there was something going on that required her to flash her badge and threaten the local riffraff with a night in one of the cells at the sheriff’s station.

But not lately. It was mid-February and quite literally nothing arrest-worthy had happened since early December when she’d locked up Will Scarlet for attempting to steal the holiday decorations off the town common.

She knew for a fact that had been the last arrest she’d made, as Scarlet’s motives had been memorable. Apparently, he’d had some half-cocked idea of holding the decorations hostage until the mayor agreed to “ransom” them back for a hefty fee. (Emma had laughed for a solid minute when he’d explained. As if Regina would ever have gone along with that).

Since then, though - nothing.

No bar fights, no petty theft, no DUIs, no domestic disturbances, no vandalism...not even any cats stuck in trees.

Emma’d had little to do except catch up on backlogged paperwork and finally start converting the sheriff’s department’s oldest files from hard-copy to digital.

In other words, she was bored out of her freaking mind.

Or she had been.

Because now, suddenly, the crime drought had ended rather spectacularly.

Emma had practically stumbled on the scene of the crime when she’d left the station a little before noon. She’d already been running late for Galentine’s Day lunch with Mary-Margaret - a longstanding tradition they’d kept up since meeting at the University of Southern Maine nearly ten years ago - when she’d seen it.

It had been hard - if not impossible - to miss.

“What the actual hell?!” Emma exclaimed, stopping dead in her tracks and staring at the building opposite the station. The response felt entirely appropriate when confronted with fifteen foot tall graffiti that absolutely hadn’t been there that morning. Whoever the culprit was, they were pretty talented, but also extremely brazen. They’d vandalized the brick wall of a two story office building in broad daylight, not twenty-five feet away from the sheriff’s station. Apparently, they didn’t care if they got caught, Emma mused. I mean, it’s beautiful, but that’s pretty damn cocky.

Sighing, Emma pulled out her phone to call Mary-Margaret and let her know she was going to be running even later for lunch, and that she’d explain when she got there.

All the while, her eyes barely strayed from the wall looming above her, adorned with a stunning multitude of simple (yet gorgeously painted) hearts in varying sizes and shades of pink, red, white, and purple.

(If she took a few more photos than were strictly necessary for the case file, that was her secret).

January 19th - Late Afternoon...

The bell above Second Star Bakery’s door jangled loudly, signaling that said door had been thrown open with considerable force. Though he would’ve liked to offer a sharp word to the culprit about the civilized way to enter a room, Killian kept his attention on the cupcakes he’d been in the middle of frosting, slowly looking up towards the source of the noise. The polite, “customer-service” smile on his face melted into something more genuine when he saw who his visitor was, and he approached the front of the shop with a spring in his step.

"Henry, what brings you by on a Friday? I wasn't expecting you till tomorrow afternoon for your usual visit with your Mum," he said, leaning on top of the display case nearest to the door and looking curiously at Henry Swan. The boy rocked slightly on his feet, shifting his weight side-to-side and averting his eyes when Killian’s gaze landed on him.

"I know, but I needed to talk to you about something and it couldn't wait any longer.” He was unusually fidgety. It struck Killian as odd, but before he could ask about it, Henry’d started speaking again. "Um...can you take a break for a few minutes?"

A tendril of concern tickled the back of Killian’s mind, but he tamped it down. Henry’d always been a good lad, and Killian was sure that, given a chance, he would explain what was on his mind. “Of course I can,” he nodded at Henry before pointing to the case in between them. “Now, how serious is this conversation? Does it require cupcakes, cookies, or eclairs?”

Henry shook his head, and his brow briefly furrowed in thought. “Pie,” he replied firmly after a few moments of careful consideration.

Killian arched an eyebrow. “Ah, that is serious,” he said, bending down and fetching the nearest pie out of the case. “Apple spice alright?”

Henry nodded and moved through the cafe tables dotting the bakery floor, heading for one towards the back. Leaving one of his sales associates, Wendy, in charge of things up front, Killian warmed a couple of healthy-sized slices of the pie and put them on a tray. Propping the tray on his left forearm, he steadied it with his good hand and carefully navigated between the tables. (Times like these always made him wish he had full use of his left hand, but an accident nearly seven years ago had taken his naval career - and much more - with it. He’d never regained full range of motion in his left hand, but he’d adapted to the injury - the other losses had been harder to recover from). Sliding into the chair opposite Henry, he waited while the boy dug into his pie.

And waited.

Though he was determined to give Henry enough time to bring up whatever was on his mind, after several silent moments stretched between them, Killian couldn’t resist nudging the conversation along. “Henry...I thought you wanted to talk. Are you sure everything’s alright?”

Though his attention had been focused solely on his pie until that moment, at Killian’s question Henry sat back in his chair with a sigh. His eyes flicked up to meet Killian’s hesitantly. “If you thought that...someone liked you...like...that way...but they hadn’t really said anything, what would you do?”

Ah, Killian thought, inwardly relieved. Girl problems. This I can handle. I think.

He folded his arms on the table and leaned towards Henry, regarding him with a grin. “Well, first things first. Are the feelings mutual?”

Henry’s gaze locked on his. Killian had the distinct (and slightly unsettling) feeling the boy was trying to read him - but what exactly he was looking for, Killian wasn’t sure. He seemed to find it after a moment, nodding thoughtfully as he replied. “I think so. I mean...” He paused to take a large bite of his pie. “...I’m pretty sure.”

“Well,” Killian scratched lightly behind his ear. “I think you have to figure that out for definite before you decide how to approach this other person. It could be pretty awkward otherwise.”

Henry put down his fork and opened his mouth as if to speak before closing it again immediately - an action he repeated twice more before a look of determination crossed his features and he blurted, “okaywellhowdoyoureallyfeelaboutmymomthen?”

The tinny strains of a Mumford and Sons tune floating out from the kitchen were suddenly the loudest noises in the entire bakery.

But the only thing Killian could hear was his heartbeat skidding to a complete halt before promptly lurching into overdrive.

“Pardon?” he asked, sure he must have misheard Henry’s (admittedly rather garbled) question - yet simultaneously sure he hadn’t. “Say that again? Perhaps with breaths between the words?”

Henry slumped back in his chair. “I said how do you really feel about my mom?”

Right, so the lad did say those words. In that order. Right.

Killian took a deep breath, trying to school his features into something closer to nonchalance than panic. (He had a feeling he failed based on the way Henry was looking at him).

“Henry,” he began cautiously, “I don’t understand...I thought you were asking me about someone at school...someone who you thought fancied you.”

“Nope,” he said, shaking his head vigorously before pausing to contradict himself. “I mean, yeah, there kinda is someone I think I might like, but that’s so not the point of this conversation,” he finished before renewing his previously abandoned attack on his pie.

“Not the point...” Killian echoed faintly, scrubbing a hand over his face and back through his hair. This was, quite literally, the last thing he’d expected when he’d opened up shop in the morning. For the first time in the slightly more than three years since he’d owned the bakery, Killian was actually glad there were hardly any customers - with the wildfire nature of Storybrooke’s gossip mill, this conversation was the last thing he wanted anyone overhearing.

He can’t know, Killian thought. He can’t.

But then why bring it up? His inner voice countered in annoyingly logical fashion.

“Henry,” he tried again, “why would you ask me that?”

Henry stopped just short of rolling his eyes. “I was just doing what you said.”

That didn’t clarify anything. “What do you mean?”

“What do you mean, what do I mean?” Henry asked, putting his fork down. “You said finding out if the feelings were definitely mutual was really important before figuring out how to talk to the other person. So that’s what I was doing. So,” he asked again, “how exactly do you feel about my mom?”

Killian still could not fathom that this conversation was really happening, but Henry seemed as though he could - and would - stay planted in his chair until Killian answered him, so he chose his next words carefully. “You know I care a great deal for your mother, lad. We’ve known each other for several years now - her friendship means the world to me, and I wouldn’t trade having her in my life for anything.”

Henry simply looked at him for a few moments before throwing his hands up in the air. “Friendship?! Really?! That’s what you’re going with?!”

“Aye,” he said gently. “It’s the truth, Henry.”

Now, the boy did roll his eyes. “Yeah,” he scoffed, “but not all of it...especially not when I think my mom might be in love with you.”

February 13th - Lunchtime...

“Well, whoever did this...it’s gorgeous,” Mary-Margaret mused, handing Emma her phone back after looking at the photos of the mural.

“Yeah, but...unfortunately, it’s also a crime,” Emma replied, pocketing her phone after taking one last glance at the photos. “Or it should be.”

Mary-Margaret tilted her head inquisitively. “What d’you mean?”

Emma sighed, leaning her elbows on the table and picking at her last few onion rings. “I canvassed the people who work in the building, but only a couple of the offices are actually occupied, and neither tenant was bothered by the graffiti. In fact, they really liked it.” Mary-Margaret hummed thoughtfully before Emma continued. “It’s one of the few buildings in town not owned by the immortally cranky Mr. Gold, and when I called the landlord to notify him, he’d already heard about the incident and didn’t want to press charges when and if we found the ‘artist’ in question. Said it sounded like it improved the value of his property.”

The pair sat in silence for a moment. “Well,” Mary-Margaret said eventually, “I guess that’s actually lucky for you, right?”

“How so?”

“Now that you don’t have to chase down leads on this mysterious artist-vandal, you won’t have to work late on Valentine’s Day. See? Lucky!!”

Emma chuckled and shook her head. Mary-Margaret was an eternal optimist who saw the best in everyone. Emma was convinced it was this innate decency and kindness that had led Mary-Margaret to befriend her when she was a 20 year old freshman and single mother commuting to USM’s Portland campus from some no name town an hour up the coast.

Though a junior when they’d met, Mary-Margaret had been the same age as Emma, and had slipped into her life as if she’d been there forever. The fact that Mary-Margaret had gotten a job teaching at Storybrooke Elementary after graduation, and had married Emma’s friend and co-worker David Nolan ensured she probably would be in Emma’s life for the foreseeable future. Her sunny disposition generally balanced out Emma’s more pragmatic (some would say prickly) take on things - but occasionally, they just didn’t see eye to eye, and when it came to Valentine’s Day, they couldn’t be further apart.

Of course Mary-Margaret, being so kind-hearted, would be enthusiastic about a holiday devoted to love and romance. Emma didn’t have anything against actual love and romance, but an overly commercialized holiday devoted to a sappy version of it? That she could do without. “Just because I don’t have to work late doesn’t mean I don’t have to work,” Emma replied. “It’s not that lucky.”

Mary-Margaret shrugged in response, her optimism undeterred. “Well, do you at least have any plans for tomorrow night?”

Emma narrowed her eyes. “I don’t think I like where I think you’re headed with that question.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Mary-Margaret’s eyes were wide, her tone a shade too innocent.

“Uh huh,” Emma muttered. “Sure you don’t.”

Mary-Margaret frowned briefly before finishing her coffee and putting the cup down with a sigh. “I only want you to be happy, you know that, right?”

Now it was Emma’s turn to sigh. “I’ve got a wonderful family, friends who care a frankly ridiculous amount about me,” Emma raised an eyebrow, causing Mary-Margaret to chuckle, “and an amazing kid. I am happy.”

“I do know that - and I’m glad,” Mary-Margaret said, though her words were laced with concern. “But you know that’s not the kind of happiness I’m talking about. When’s the last time you went on a date?”

“I don’t need to have romantic plans on a made up holiday in order to be happy, Mary-Margaret,” Emma said, weariness creeping into her tone. They’d had similar discussions before.

“I know you don’t have to, but-”

“Besides, I’ve had dates on and off over the past few years,” Emma cut in. “You’re really talking about more than that.”

“Yeah, I am,” Mary-Margaret conceded. She paused, her gaze flicking to Emma’s before proceeding hesitantly. “It’s been almost four years since Graham died...I’m just afraid that between dealing with losing him and the impact of your past with Neal, you’ve closed yourself off. I don’t want that for you, Emma.”

Emma didn’t really have a comeback for that. Neal had been a con and a cheat, not to mention too old for her teenage self, and the only good thing he’d brought into her life had been Henry. Her history with him featured frequently in conversations about Emma’s lackluster love-life (generally with Emma tossing a good amount of expletives in his direction), but Mary-Margaret didn’t usually bring up Graham.

Graham had been everything Neal wasn’t - kind, patient, funny, and sweet. They’d fallen into an easy relationship not long after Emma’s post-college return to Storybrooke. Under the former sheriff, Art King, they and David had been co-deputies in the Storybrooke Sheriff’s Department. Graham had charmed her effortlessly almost from the start. They’d been happy for about eighteen months, until he’d collapsed one day during his morning run - ripped away out of the blue by an undiagnosed congenital heart defect.

Emma took a deep breath and released it slowly. If she were being honest, she’d have to admit that after Graham’s death, she’d turned inward - protectively walling off her heart against further hurt. She hadn’t really had a serious relationship since - but the pain of losing Graham was only one reason.

Yeah, but you can’t exactly admit that the other major reason you’re not actively looking for something serious is that you’ve gone and developed feelings for Killian, Emma thought. At least, not without Mary-Margaret completely freaking out on you and trying to get you to actually do something about them.

“Emma?” Mary-Margaret’s soft voice broke through Emma’s internal musings and pulled her back to the present. “I’m sorry if I pushed - I just care about you and I want the best for you. Sometimes I get carried away”

“It’s alright, you didn’t,” Emma said, reaching out to squeeze Mary-Margaret’s hand. “Honest. But I’m really fine - and you have my word that I’m happy. I promise if that changes, you’ll be the first to know.”

Mary-Margaret nodded, squeezing Emma’s hand in return. “Deal.”

“As far as tomorrow, I wouldn’t have time for a date anyway. I’ve got to get Henry ready for the school dance and embarrass him by taking as many photos as humanly possible,” Emma said. “That’s all the Valentine’s excitement I need.”

Emma felt slightly guilty for not revealing she did, in fact, have plans with Killian after Henry went to the dance. It wasn’t a date, so technically she wasn’t lying, but she was aware if Mary-Margaret knew, she’d take it the wrong way. Emma just didn’t have the energy to convince her that movie night with Killian, beer, and a giant pepperoni pizza was completely and totally platonic.

(Not that she wanted it to be. But the one thing she wanted more than exploring a relationship with Killian was to not lose him from her life. Anything that had the potential to wreck their friendship - like the fact she’d been well on her way to in love with him for most of the past year - was firmly off limits).

January 19th - Late Afternoon...

Killian gaped at Henry, positive his jaw was on the floor. He tried - and failed - to form words several times before finally finding his voice.

“I’m fairly certain you’re mistaken,” he said. “Granted, your mother and I are very close, but we’re just friends.”

Henry shook his head. “C’mon, Killian. I’m twelve, not stupid - and I know what I heard.”

That got Killian’s attention. “What are you talking about?”

“It was a few weeks ago,” Henry explained. “Just before New Year’s Eve. It was late, and I was getting ready for bed, but I’d forgotten some of my school books in the kitchen. When I went downstairs to get them...I overheard my mom talking to Auntie Elsa on the phone.”

“Eavesdropping is bad form, lad,” Killian admonished.

“I know - and I didn’t mean to. But she sounded kinda sad and I wanted to make sure she was okay, so I stayed and listened for a few minutes...and she was talking about you.”

Killian’s stomach churned at the thought that something about him had upset Emma. Causing her any sorrow or discomfort was the last thing Killian wanted. Against his better judgment (this felt far too much like gossiping behind Emma’s back), Killian asked, “why was she upset?”

Henry averted his gaze for a moment before looking back at Killian. “She said something about not being able to change how she feels, but not being able to tell you the truth either...and something about not knowing what to do. Then she just said ‘yeah’ and ‘uh huh’ a lot while Auntie Elsa must have been talking.”

“You still shouldn’t have listened to your mother’s conversation, Henry,” Killian said. A headache was starting to form behind his temples. “But all I can ask is that you not do it again.” He pushed back his chair and stood up, gathering their plates and cups. “I’m afraid I have to get back to work, but you know you’re welcome anytime.”

“That’s it?!” Henry cried in disbelief, following Killian towards the counter. “You’re not going to do anything about this?!”

Kilian dumped their plates into a rubber kitchen tub earmarked for used dishware and turned to face Henry, crossing his arms over his chest. “What exactly do you want me to do? I don’t think what you heard means your mum’s in love with me. Just that there’s something she feels she can’t tell me right now.”

“Yeah,” Henry retorted, “It’s that she loves you!”

“Henry, listen-”

“I’m pretty observant,” Henry cut in, “and I know both of you look at each other differently than you do anybody else - by the way, you should know it’s really sappy - and you spend a ton of time together, and...you care about each other, like, a lot. Plus, you take care of each other all the time. You’re...you’re almost as coupley as the Nolans!” he finished triumphantly, as if that statement alone proved all of his points.

“Nobody’s as coupley as the Nolans,” Killian rebutted. “Henry...I want you to know I’ve heard you,” he said seriously, “but the friendship I have with you and your mum is precious to me...I don’t want to do anything to risk it.”

It was as close to an admission of feelings as he could bring himself to allow.

Henry shook his head,disappointment filling his gaze. “But don’t you think you’re losing out on something even more special if you don’t take the risk?”

Killian didn’t quite know what to say to that, and before he could come up with an appropriate response, the bell over the door was jingling once more, signaling Henry’s departure.

January 24th - Dinnertime…in Storybrooke, at least...

“H’lo?” the voice slurred out a greeting after the person on the other end of the phone finally picked up.

“Liam?” Killian asked, before catching sight of the clock and doing a quick mental calculation. “Ah, shit...sorry. You were already asleep, weren’t you?”

“Almost,” his brother sounded slightly more alert now. “You caught me just in the nick of time, little brother. Now, to what do I owe the honor of this late night transatlantic call?”

Killian bit back the automatic correction of younger brother that itched to leap off his tongue. He felt badly enough for not thinking about the time difference before calling - he didn’t want to get sidetracked by protesting a habit Liam was never likely to change. Besides, he really needed advice. “I need your opinion on something, Liam.”

“Must be important - I can hear the nerves in your voice from here,” his brother quipped.

Killian nodded, even though he knew Liam couldn’t see him. “Possibly the most important thing.”

“Ah,” Liam said knowingly. “Must be about Emma, then. Finally decided you want to tell her you’ve been in love with her for ages, but haven’t been able to actually do it yet?”

“How in the world did you guess that?!” he blurted, speaking over Liam’s chuckle. “Have you been talking to Henry?”

Liam was silent for a long moment before responding, a bit of hesitance in his voice. “Actually, Elsa.”

“What?!” Killian was truly boggled. “When?!”

“We’ve been in touch a bit since I visited you last year,” Liam said briskly, clearly trying to change the subject - though Killian definitely filed it away for further discussion later. “Anyway, she sees the way you two moon about over each other as clearly as I do. We’re both a bit puzzled at why it’s taken this long for one of you to do something about it.”

“We’re friends,” Killian replied instantly. “She’s...my best friend, actually.”

“I’m going to pretend that doesn’t hurt, Kil,” Liam said dryly. “But truth be told, you wound me.”

“Git,” Killian replied.

“Wanker,” Liam answered, the laughter bleeding into his voice at their habitual sparring. After a brief pause during which Killian could hear him yawn, Liam spoke again, his tone more serious. “So, she’s your best friend. How long have you known her?”

“Four years. You know that, Liam.”

“Aye. You met her even before you fully moved there...it was when when you visited for your mate-”

“Robin’s wedding, yeah,” Killian cut in, unsure of where his brother was going with his trip down memory lane.

“Right - he married that mildly terrifying woman, didn’t he?”

“Regina - though I wouldn’t let Robin hear you say that,” Killian replied, impatient for Liam to cut to the chase. “What’s your point?”

“My point, little brother, is you’ve known Emma for a very long time...and you’ve each had a rough go of it. Life dealt both of you shit hands...and what’s always struck me about you both is that neither of you have ever let anything stop you from fighting for what’s important to you. Why should it be any different now, when what you want is each other?”

“You’re so certain she feels the same way?” Killian asked, afraid to let himself hope.

Liam sighed, but when he spoke again, his tone was gentler. “Elsa didn’t betray any of Emma’s specific confidences, but given what she did say...I don’t think you have to worry...and if it’s any consolation, from what I observed of you two myself when I was there, I’d say she’s right.”

Killian exhaled slowly. “It’s a big leap to make. I haven’t felt this way about anyone since…”

“Milah,” Liam finished for him. It wasn’t a question. Killian had fallen hard for Milah Clarke when he’d only been a few years into his naval career. Losing her in a car accident not long after the incident that had crushed his hand and ended his career had sent Killian reeling and it had taken him a long time - and no small amount of help from Liam - to pull himself out of his grief and heal.

“Yeah,” Killian replied. “So you can see why I’m terrified of screwing it up. I just...what if I tell her I want to be with her, and she says no?”

“Mm,” Liam hummed in agreement. “You’re forgetting one thing, little brother.”

“What?” Killian asked, pressing the phone tighter against his ear, as if he could absorb Liam’s words through sheer force of will.

“You’re not with her now, and if you never say anything there won’t even be a chance of that changing. Be brave, Kil. It’ll be worth it.”

Valentine’s Day - Mid-morning...

KJ: Alright. Operation The Writing’s On The Wall is a go!

HS: Excellent! And Killian?

KJ: Yes?

HS: I’m glad you decided to take the risk. :)

KJ: Me too, lad. Me too.

HS: Oh, and Killian...I think I’m gonna take a risk too.

KJ: ?

HS: I’m going to ask Violet to dance tonight at the school’s Valentine thing. Wish me luck!

KJ: Best of luck, Henry.

Killian sent the final text, pocketed his phone, and picked up the first can of spray paint, ready to enact the plan he and Henry had concocted during ad hoc “strategy sessions” at the bakery. The lad had been persistent - showing up at Second Star after school every day for a week with different pieces of “evidence” supporting his case. All that, plus Liam’s recent advice, had convinced Killian to take action.

Thus, Operation The Writing’s on The Wall had been born.

(The name had been Henry’s idea).

Henry had also opened up a bit during their conversations about his blossoming affections for one of his classmates, Violet Clemens. Killian was touched Henry had turned to him for advice, though given the state of his own romantic affairs, he wasn’t sure he’d been able to help him very much.

He still wasn’t sure this wouldn’t end in spectacular disaster. Though he’d known deep down for some time that he’d been falling in love with Emma, because of past hurts he’d been afraid to explore it. But he’d come to realize Henry and Liam were right, he couldn’t keep holding back the truth. No matter how this turned out, he had to at least try to tell her. He didn’t know if this was the best way, but Henry had convinced him if Emma were going to take his declaration seriously, he needed to get her attention in a big way.

When did I start taking romantic advice from a pre-teen? He thought with a shake of his head. Contemplating the stretch of blank wall in front of him he hefted the can, adjusting it slightly to get a better grip with his good hand. No matter. In for a penny, in for a pound…

He raised his arm and took a deep breath. As he exhaled, he let the paint fly in graceful arcs across the brick, nearly closing his eyes as he lost himself in the rhythm of the work.

If this works, it’ll all be worth it...

Valentine’s Day - at night…

Emma shifted from foot to foot, cradling a warm pizza box in her arms and waiting impatiently for Killian to respond to her fervent knocking. After another moment or two had passed without any sign of him coming to let her in, she reached up and thumped on the door again. “C’mon, Jones!” she shouted for good measure. “The pizza’s getting cold...and so am I!!”

Finally, she heard shuffling footsteps coming down the hallway and the door to his seaside cottage swung slowly open. Killian grinned at her. “Evening, Swan. Patient as ever, I see.”

“Uggh,” she groaned, pushing past him with a good-natured bump of her shoulder against his. “I was freezing my ass off out there. Quite literally.”

He chuckled as he closed the door behind her. “Now, that would be a shame, it’s true.”

Her stomach swooped and she felt herself flush a little - to hide her reaction to his teasing, she turned and put the pizza box down on the kitchen island. Arching a brow at him. “I’d think you’d have a little more sympathy, especially considering I brought you pizza. Instead, you’re mocking me for falling prey to the vagaries of Maine winter weather.”

“Vagaries?” Killian asked, quirking his own eyebrow at her, he moved to the cabinet to get them plates. “Interesting word choice.”

She shrugged. “Hey, I do listen when you fancy-talk. Sometimes.”

He snorted and set the plates down next to the pizza. “How kind of you.”

“You know I try,” she said with a laugh before walking back to the entryway to hang up her coat. She paused as she passed back through the open plan living area, taking a moment to soak up the room’s coziness. It was one of Emma’s favorite places. An inviting, squishy-soft sofa faced a series of built in shelves crammed with books, knickknacks, and photos. The shelves flanked a squat fireplace lit with a warmly crackling fire. Killian’s television sat in one corner, and an armchair that matched the sofa was in another. Above the mantel hung a beautiful seascape that had been painted by Killian’s late mother, Alice.

(Apparently, Killian had taken after his mother artistically - though he’d long denied it, saying his talent never amounted to more than “doodling.” It frustrated Emma greatly that he’d never shown her much of his work).

When she returned to the kitchen, Killian had slipped two slices onto each of their plates and was rummaging around in his fridge for their beers. “So...what are we watching tonight?”

Killian handed her the plates, tucked a roll of paper towel under his left arm, and picked up the beers with his good hand, nodding in the direction of his television. “You can look over the selection yourself,” he murmured. “I had a bit of trouble deciding.”

“Really?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder at him as she moved to sit. “That’s not like you.”

He chuckled softly as he followed her and sat down on the other end of the sofa. “Yes, well,” he said, trading her one of the beer bottles for one of the plates of pizza. “Your list of off-limits movies was rather lengthy.”

She rolled her eyes. “I just didn’t want to be hit over the head for two hours with soppy romantic cliches. I get enough of those when I do movie night with Mary-Margaret. I’ve hit my quota for the year already, I think.”

“That is impressive, seeing as we’re only halfway through February,” he grinned, before taking a pull from his beer.

“Mm, well that’s Mary-Margaret for ya,” Emma concurred, leaning forward to look at the DVDs spread over the surface of the coffee table. There were action movies, a couple of selections from Marvel, and - predictably, where Killian was concerned - Star Wars. But a DVD set slightly apart from the others caught her eye. She grinned. Perfect. “Hmmm...how about that one?”

Killian nodded and got up to put Garden State in the player. They fell into a comfortable silence for a while, enjoying their pizza and beer, sometimes watching the movie and sometimes ignoring it in favor of trading their more colorful stories from the past week. (When Emma recounted the tale of her mysterious and artistic vandal, an odd expression flashed over Killian’s face, but it was gone and he was telling her about one of his amusing regulars at the bakery before she could process what had happened).

Around the point in the film when Zach Braff and Natalie Portman were standing on top of construction equipment at the bottom of a quarry and screaming their heads off, Killian glanced over at her, a soft smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “How’d it go...getting Henry ready for the dance?”

She sighed and rolled her head to the side so she could look at him without sitting up from where she was slumped into the couch. He was closer than he’d been before - the two of them had gravitated into each other bit by bit during the course of the film. “You just had to bring that up, didn’t you? Part of the point of this movie night was to help me forget that for a while.”

He chuckled, shifting closer as he spoke. “C’mon now, Swan. Surely it couldn’t have been that bad.” He nudged her shoulder gently with his own. “It must have been at least a little bit exciting.”

Emma didn’t answer immediately, staring at the television without really seeing it. Finally, she nodded, albeit reluctantly. “It was...a bit...but also kinda terrifying...realizing he’s old enough to be excited about going to school dances.” She let herself lean further into Killian, dropping her head on his shoulder. Normally, she’d hold herself back more - casually touching him made her want things she was sure she couldn’t have, and she usually made sure to only do it in the smallest of doses - but tonight she just needed the comfort of his solid presence. “Is it horribly cliched if I say it felt like he was a toddler just a few days ago?”

“Not at all, Swan,” he murmured, curling his arm around her shoulders and pulling her further into his side. This is comfortable, she thought to herself. Dangerously so. But she couldn’t bring herself to pull away, soaking up Killian’s warmth as he continued. “It’s only natural you’d feel that way since the lad’s started showing an interest in dating and-”

She jerked upright, the motion causing his arm to fall away from her. But the flicker of regret she felt at that was mixed with a much larger dose of astonishment. “Dating? Who said anything about Henry dating?! Do you know something I don’t know? Killian, has he told you he likes someone?! Who?”

The apples of Killian’s cheeks flushed ever-so-slightly pink, which Emma secretly found adorable - but she pushed down the flip-flopping sensation in her stomach and waited him out. She needed answers about Henry too badly to think about how Killian somehow became even more handsome when he was flustered.

Finally, he spoke, tilting his head down and glancing up at her from under a slightly furrowed brow. “The lad...err...he does talk to me from time to time, Swan. Without betraying his trust, I can say there are...things...of a slightly romantic nature...that an almost-teenage boy doesn’t exactly want to share with his mother,” he said softly, reaching out to rest his left hand gently on her knee, “no matter how close the two of you may be.”

Emma considered that for a moment, swallowing down the nervous flutter caused partly by the thought of Henry taking his first steps (however tentative) into the world of dating, and partly by Killian’s proximity. She must have been lost in her thoughts for longer than she’d realized, because Killian had started speaking again, this time rather hesitantly.

“I...I do hope it’s alright he came to me Emma. You know I would have shared it with you - or urged Henry to do so himself - if I thought it were anything for you to be worried about. I hope I haven’t overstep-”

“No!” she cut him off, dropping her hand on top of his and interlacing their fingers. His eyes followed her action, seemingly transfixed by the way she’d reached for his injured hand without a second thought. “You didn’t - not at all. Killian,” she paused, waiting for him to look up at her before continuing. “I’m glad he feels he can talk to you about things like that...you have to know, I’m so glad he has you.”

“He does,” Killian agreed earnestly, his gaze never leaving hers. “You both do.”

Emma’s pulse picked up as the air around them thickened and grew warmer. Her mouth was suddenly dry and nothing could have torn her gaze away from Killian in that moment. For his part, he seemed equally transfixed, his eyes finally breaking from hers to flick down to her lips. Is he getting closer or is that me? Emma wondered. Maybe it’s both of us. Killian opened his mouth to speak again - to say what, she didn’t know - when suddenly her phone started ringing.

Craaaaaaaap.

-/-

Killian watched as Emma leapt off the couch, struggling to yank her phone out of her pocket before the caller hung up. She managed to answer it just in time, mouthing sorry at him before disappearing into his kitchen to take the call.

He flopped into the cushions with a sigh before scrubbing his hand through his hair. How the bloody hell did that happen?! One minute they’d been having a totally normal movie night, and the next they were bang in the middle of what had felt like some sort of relationship changing moment. Almost. The truly boggling thing was that they had reached that point, but not at all in the way Killian had anticipated.

Of course, if you’d gotten over your own nerves and eased into declaring your feelings the way you’d planned, things might have been very different right about now...one way or another.

Glancing over the back of the couch, Killian could see Emma pacing around the kitchen with increasing speed, her phone still glued to her ear. She was gesturing emphatically with her free hand, the tone of her voice rising in pitch. Though he couldn’t really make out what she was saying, he had no trouble catching it when she semi-growled “are you fucking kidding me, David?!”

Killian wasn’t sure whether he was grateful or disappointed that it seemed their evening were coming to an abrupt and unexpected end. The ache of his as-yet unconfessed feelings mingled unpleasantly with relief that he hadn’t done something to utterly screw up their friendship.

“Hey, I’m so sorry, but I’ve gotta run,” Emma said, striding back into the living area, her words pulling him from his reverie. “You would not believe what I’m going to have to go deal with.”

Killian got to his feet, following her towards the entryway. He leaned against the wall, watching her bundle herself back into her coat. “Scarlet?” he guessed. She nodded. “What’s he done now, then?”

She whirled to face him, her expression a picture of exasperation. “Disturbed the peace, for one. He had the oh-so-brilliant idea that serenading his ex on Valentine’s Day would be the best way to get her back. It seems that neither she, or her new girlfriend, agreed.”

“Oh dear,” Killian said with feigned sympathy, his eyebrow quirking up. “That is unfortunate.”

“Yeah,” Emma grumbled. “Ana’s neighbors didn’t take too kindly to it either, as he decided he was going to stand under her window and belt out love songs for half an hour. David’s still on scene taking statements. I get the fun job of picking Scarlet up at the hospital and arresting him once they’re done treating him.”

“What?”

“Oh, yeah...the best part is I’m also going to have to charge him with public indecency. He decided the perfect way to carry out his plan was dressed as Cupid.”

“In Maine? In February?!” Killian asked incredulously. “What was he thinking?!”

Emma shoved her beanie back down over her curls. “Who the hell knows what, or if, he’s ever thinking. Apparently, his...loincloth or whatever...was very, um, skimpy. David mentioned they’re worried about frostbite.”

“Jesus,” Killian muttered, “I actually almost feel sorry for him.”

“Yeah,” Emma nodded. “I guess his heart was in the right place...but some guys are just not cut out for grand romantic gestures. Anyway,” she looked up at him, her gaze unmistakably tinged with regret, “I’m sorry I’ve gotta cut our movie night short, especially for this nonsense...but I’d better get a move on.”

“Don’t worry about it, Swan,” he said. “I understand - duty calls. Maybe we can get lunch this week.”

“I’d like that,” she said with a soft smile before turning to leave, her reluctance to go sparking a fresh wave of hope that perhaps he wasn’t alone in his feelings.

He shivered in the burst of cold air that swept in when she opened the door, watching her go and raising a hand to wave as she jogged down the walkway towards her car.

As the door swung shut, he leaned against it, his head falling against the wood with a thunk. He scrubbed a hand over his face and back into his hair, sighing heavily.

The plan - at least this part of it - had been simple. Movie night with Emma had already been on tap before he and Henry had concocted their “operation.” Whereas Henry had argued for boldly taking romantic action, Killian had thought highlighting the familiar would be comforting - he’d theorized it would put Emma at ease.

So this had been the compromise - dramatic romantic graffiti to get her attention, and then a quiet night in where he’d reveal that he was the artist and then tell her he was more than halfway to being in love with her. Simple, right? It had proved to be anything but. He sighed again and pushed himself off the door when something Emma had said suddenly struck him. A grin spread across his face, a new version of the plan beginning to take form in his mind.

Scarlet might not be able to pull off a grand romantic gesture...but I certainly can.

February 22 - Mid-Afternoon…

“I take it you know Kristoff finally proposed?” Elsa asked, her expression discernibly wry even through their less-than-stellar Skype connection.

“Um, yeah,” Emma laughed. “If the approximately thirty texts Anna sent me over the past week hadn’t given it away, Ingrid came around the other day to share the news.”

“And to gently probe about your own love life, right?” Elsa arched a knowing eyebrow.

“Let me guess, she called you?” It wasn’t really a question. Emma knew her adoptive mother well, and she’d been expecting her visit from the moment Anna had sent her first exclamation point riddled text. It wasn’t hard to fathom Ingrid would have contacted Elsa too.

When she’d been bouncing her way through the foster system as a kid, Emma hadn’t imagined someone like Ingrid Fisher - a fierce and protective foster mother who hadn’t given up on her even when she’d run away, met Neal, and come back to Storybrooke pregnant and alone. Ingrid had adopted Emma as well as Elsa and Anna (her two orphaned nieces) and had never looked back. It hadn’t always been easy, but eventually the four of them had become the family Emma’d never dared to let herself dream of - something she was grateful for every day.

“Yup,” Elsa confirmed with a sigh. “She was fairly disappointed to hear that work’s been keeping me so busy lately. She hid it pretty well, though. I’ll give her credit.”

“Mm,” Emma hummed in agreement. “I got pretty much the same reaction when I told her I’m more focused on figuring out Henry’s love life than my own right now.”

Elsa laughed before catching herself. “Wait a minute, are you serious? Henry has a love life? When did that happen?”

“I’m not really sure,” Emma’s brow furrowed, and she reached for the cup of cocoa sitting on the kitchen table. “He hasn’t really said too much to me about it - I only found out because Killian spilled the beans when I was over at his place last week.” She took a sip of cocoa. “Apparently, Henry’s been talking to him about someone at school that he likes, and he came home from the Valentine’s dance with a goofy grin and a friendship bracelet I’ve never seen before. I’ve tried to give him his space, but…”

“I’m sure he’ll tell you more when he’s ready, Em,” Elsa reassured. “You know you’ve got a good kid there.”

“A great one,” Emma agreed. “I just...I don’t want to pull an Ingrid on him, but...I guess I’m understanding how she feels a bit more. It’s tough when your kid gets their first real crush - he’s growing up faster than I can deal with.”

Elsa looked at her sympathetically for a moment. “If anyone can make it through the terrible tween years, it’s going to be you and Henry, Emma.”

“I know. I do. Really.” She smiled at her adoptive sister gratefully. She was still a bit rattled by Henry’s burgeoning romance and the fact he didn’t seem to want to share too much about it with her, but talking with Elsa always had a way of calming her down and making her see things more clearly. “Anyway...I know you must want to hear about all the crazy things you’ve missed out on here this past week.”

Elsa laughed. “True. I know that Anna’s engagement can’t have been the only big news. I need my weekly dose of Storybrooke gossip.”

Emma spent the next forty-five minutes filling Elsa in on the happenings of their small hometown, and listening as Elsa related the news of her week in Boston. She missed her sister deeply, but was so proud of her for pursuing her legal career even though it had taken her away from home. Weekly phone or video calls were their way of staying close even when they couldn’t be in the same space and Emma cherished them.

She was just wrapping up telling Elsa about the absolute insanity that was the ongoing Will Scarlet saga when a thoughtful expression crossed Elsa’s face. “What’s that look for?”

Elsa hesitated, then looked directly at Emma, her gaze piercing even through the computer screen. “You said earlier you were at Killian’s last week, and you just mentioned you were at his place when you had to go take care of Scarlet. Did you and Killian spend Valentine’s Day together?”

“Oh,” Emma was caught short, not having expected that. “Um...kind of.”

“Kind of? What exactly does that mean, Emma?”

“You sound like Ingrid,” Emma grumbled, putting her now nearly empty mug down and crossing her arms over her stomach.

“Emma,” Elsa chided, leveling her with a look that demanded answers more effectively than anything she could have said.

“It was a movie night. Just like every movie night we’ve ever had since we’ve been friends. Nothing else,” she replied, though she couldn’t meet Elsa’s eyes.

“Huh,” Elsa responded. “Then why are you blushing and not able to look at me?”

“Jeez! Are you this persistent in court?” Emma muttered.

“Yes,” Elsa replied calmly. “Especially when I know I’m on to something. ”

“Oh my God, El!” Emma exclaimed, finally locking eyes with her. “It was a normal movie night - it was,” she reiterated at Elsa’s skeptical look, “but then...it got a little weird.”

“In what way?”

Emma shrugged. “We started talking about Henry...that’s when I found out he’s been talking to Killian about dating...and things got a little...emotional. Killian said something about always being there for both of us and...wealmostkissed,” she finished, speeding through the last few words before she chickened out.

Elsa looked thoughtful, but not surprised. “Don’t you think this invalidates your argument?”

“Huh?” She stared at her sister in confusion.

“What we were talking about at New Year’s,” Elsa said matter-of-factly. “When you claimed you couldn’t tell Killian you were in love with him because he absolutely and positively only saw you as a good friend. Seems like that’s not so much the case, is it? I mean,” she continued, “he was about to kiss you too, right?”

Emma nodded weakly. “Yeah,” she murmured.

“Oh, Emma,” Elsa sighed ”I hate to see you so twisted up about this. You’ve got to tell Killian how you feel.”

The two women simply stared at each other for a moment, Emma spoke. “What if I’m wrong though?” she asked quietly. “Or what if he does want something more too, but it doesn’t work out? He’s one of my best friends. I can’t lose him,” she finished, emotion rendering her voice little more than a whisper.

Elsa regarded Emma candidly. “First, anybody who sees the two of you together can tell how much you care about each other. When I was back home for Christmas the amount of heart eyes the two of you were making at each other was off the charts. Plus, you spent most of Ruby’s Christmas party glued to each other’s sides.” Elsa chuckled. “You’re almost more coupley than David and Mary-Margaret.”

“No one is more coupley than David and Mary-Margaret,” Emma shot back instinctively, a hint of a smile finally breaking through the tension that gripped her.

“That may be true,” Elsa conceded, “but the two of you looked pretty darn together for people who aren’t actually dating. Liam agrees with me, by the way,” she finished before her eyes widened and she clapped her hand over her mouth.

“Oh he does, does he?” Emma queried, noting that Elsa suddenly looked like she wanted to slide off her chair and out of sight. “Just how long have you two been comparing notes?”

Elsa straightened, shaking her head firmly. “Oh no...no deflecting. This is not about me.”

“Hm, countering my deflecting with evasion,” Emma mused. “That means it’s been at least a few months. Oh!” she brightened, a thought striking her. “I bet it’s been since his last visit here - you were home then for Ingrid’s birthday. Is he the real reason you’ve not had time for dating lately?”

“Emma!” Elsa said sharply, a pink blush staining her normally pale cheeks. “I will tell you all about it. Later. I promise. Right now, this is about you, and you have to remember a couple of important things.”

“I’m listening,” she murmured.

“As you yourself said, Killian is one of your best friends...and he’s Killian. Do you really think if you tried being together and - for whatever inconceivable reason - it didn’t work out, he’d just cut you out of his life? You know him better than that, Emma. That man is as loyal as they come.”

Emma pondered her sister’s words. Elsa did have a point - Killian wasn’t the sort of person who would just cut her, or Henry, out of his life if a romantic relationship between them flamed out. She thought back over their friendship - meeting him four years ago when he’d flown over for Regina’s wedding to a childhood friend of his, and re-meeting him when he’d moved back to Storybrooke to start his bakery. Graham had died in the year in between the first and second times she’d met Killian, turning Emma’s life upside down.

But Killian had been just who she’d so desperately needed back then - her other friends had all been too concerned, too worried, too much. Killian hadn’t been a total stranger, but he’d been enough of an unknown quantity that being around him had been peaceful, a way of escaping the sometimes smothering shared history she had with all the people in her life who’d known and loved Graham too. Killian had slowly revealed his own hurts and losses, and his reasons for wanting a fresh start in a fresh country. Gradually their friendship had deepened, taking on a life of its own beyond comparing the battle wounds life had given them. He’d become her rock - and over this last year, she’d realized friendship just wasn’t enough to encompass everything he meant to her. She knew it was a cliche, but she’d gone and fallen into the deep end of love with her best friend.

Cautiously, she nodded. “You may have a point,” she acknowledged. “You said there were a couple of things, though. What was the other one?”

“You already love him, Em. You’ve admitted as much to me a few different times. Those feelings haven’t gone away, have they?”

Emma shook her head. “You know they haven’t.”

“Exactly. So things between you are already different because you have made that leap - in your heart, at least. You can’t unfeel what you feel...If you tell him, either you’ll be able to work through it and let it go, or the more likely thing will happen.”

“Which is?”

“You’ll be ridiculously and disgustingly happy together and unseat the Nolans for the Cutest Couple in Storybrooke title,” Elsa finished triumphantly.

Emma rolled her eyes, but her smile grew. “That is not possible. They’ve reigned for too long. Buuuuut...I think you’re right about the rest of it.”

“I know I am.”

Emma hesitated for a moment. “I’m scared, El.”

“Of what, exactly?” her sister asked, patience coloring her tone.

Emma had the feeling Elsa knew what she was going to say, but Emma forced herself to speak anyway. “I can’t lose him the way I lost Graham.”

Elsa was silent for a few moments. When she finally spoke her tone was serious, and her question, once again, was unexpected. “Do you regret being with Graham?”

“No!” Emma’s responded instantly. “But losing him was horrible and Killian...I know it’s not fair to compare them...but he means even more to me. I don’t know how I’d cope if we were together and he…”

Elsa nodded. “If you’d known what was going to happen, would you still have gotten involved with Graham?”

Emma sighed. “Of course. I’d never trade the time we had together.”

“I thought you’d say that,” Elsa said, her tone slightly smug. “So why wouldn’t that be true for you and Killian too?” Emma looked up to find her sister smiling at her through the screen. “The prosecution rests,” she said with a grin.

“Very clever, counselor,” Emma said with begrudging admiration.

“Thank you. Now, what are you going to do about Killian?”

Emma sighed again. “I don’t know. I’ve got to think of the right way to bring it up.”

“Well, personally I’d suggest blurting it at him and then tackle-kissing him,” Elsa teased.

Emma laughed, the tension starting to leave her body. “Just because that worked for Anna and Kristoff, doesn’t mean it’s going to work for me.”

“I know,” Elsa replied. “But whatever you decide to do...don’t wait too long. For both your sakes.”

February 23 - Early morning…

Emma left the house feeling upbeat, her conversation with Elsa the day before having instilled a new sense of determination in her to finally, finally talk to Killian about her feelings.

That determination lasted all of twenty minutes, and fizzled out abruptly when she approached Second Star after dropping Henry off at school. She’d planned on walking right into the bakery, grabbing her usual order, and confidently asking Killian if he wanted to get dinner that evening - somewhere other than Granny’s. Then at dinner she would tell him - she’d spent a lot of time the night before figuring out the best way to ease into it - and hope that Elsa was right and it wouldn’t ruin their friendship.

But as she walked up to the bakery, admiring the way the warm light from inside spilled out its wide front windows into the gray wintry bleakness of the overcast day, her steps slowed and then stopped.

What if Elsa’s wrong? It’s not like this is a gigantic town - we won’t be able to avoid each other...maybe this is a mistake. Being friends is good. It’s enough.

Except the moment she spotted Killian through the windows, emerging from the back room with a tray of freshly baked muffins, the warmth that shot through her system and the fluttering feeling that burst to life in her belly proved her a liar.

You can do this, Emma.

With that final internal pep talk, she closed the remaining distance to the bakery and pushed inside. The bell over the door jangled merrily as she entered and Killian’s gaze followed the sound. As soon as his eyes caught hers, he grinned. “Why Swan, to what do I owe this pleasure? I thought you were covering the early shift this morning.”

“I am,” she replied, “but you know me...the earlier I have to go in, the more I want bear claws to offset the pain of doing paperwork. Care to help a girl out?”

“You know it, Swan,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows ridiculously as his tongue darted out to wet his lips. Emma fought the urge to moisten her own in response, biting her bottom lip instead. Killian moved towards the front case and grabbed a couple of the biggest bear claws, dropping them into a light blue bag emblazoned with the Second Star logo and handing them to her. “Should still be warm - I put them out just a few minutes ago.”

“Thanks,” she said softly, swallowing hard. This is it - now or never, Emma. “Hey listen, I was wondering if you were free-”

Before she could finish, the door swung open with such force its bell didn’t just ring, it nearly flew off. A gust of icy wind followed the entrance of a statuesque and elegantly dressed redhead who made a beeline for the counter without sparing a glance at Emma or bothering to close the door. “There you are, Killian darling!” she exclaimed in a lightly accented voice. “I’m just bursting with news!”

Emma felt her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He glanced in her direction briefly before responding to the other woman. “Good morning, Zelena,” he said quietly. “Lovely to see you again. Give me just a moment and I can give you my undivided attention.”

The woman - Zelena, Emma mentally corrected - whirled around, noticing Emma for the first time. A smile, bright but tinged with something a bit frightening around the edges, lit up her face before she turned back to Killian. “Alright,” she practically purred, “but don’t keep me waiting too long.” With that, she brushed past Emma and moved towards the corner table, gracefully sinking down into one of the chairs and pulling out her phone.

Emma looked at Killian, whose attention was still on the woman in the corner. She had no idea who this woman was or why she was treating Killian with such familiarity, but suffice it to say that the big moment she’d been gearing herself up for was gone. Gesturing to the door, Emma broke the brief silence that had fallen between them. “I, uh, actually do have to get going,” she said, “but I’ll text you later, alright?”

What looked like disappointment flickered across Killian’s face, and he opened his mouth to say something, but Zelena piped up, her voice piercing the silence. “Whatever you’re doing tonight, cancel it,” she said, her words clearly aimed at Killian. “We’re going to need to celebrate and I’ve got just the place in mind.”

Suddenly, Emma couldn’t stand being in the bakery for one more moment. Barely meeting Killian’s eyes, she muttered a quick goodbye and stepped out into the coldness of the day, the freezing air seemingly penetrating her heart instantly. She thought she heard him call her name, but didn’t stop or look back. She was finding it hard to draw breath and emotions she refused to name had tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.

There’s probably a rational explanation. Killian would have told you if he were seeing someone new, she tried to reassure herself. Wouldn’t he?

The uncertainty followed her all the way to the station, and she had trouble concentrating for most of the morning. She was actually grateful for the call that came in just before lunch. It seemed the artistic vandal had struck again, this time down at the Cannery.

Thankful for anything to take her mind off Killian, she picked up her radio, let David know they had a case, and headed for the docks.

-/-

As Emma bolted from the bakery, not even stopping when he called after her, Killian’s heart sank. He’d been so glad to see her, but Zelena’s somewhat unexpected appearance and ill-timed interjections had thrown everything off. He needed the large contract she was offering him - supplying baked goods for the local chain of B&Bs she owned with her partner would have a huge impact on his business - but he wished she’d shown up at literally any other time.

Turning back to her after it was clear Emma was truly gone, he mustered up a smile and agreed to meet Zelena and her partner, Cruella, at a quiet restaurant near the waterfront that evening to sign the contract and - as she put it - “celebrate properly.” As soon as they’d confirmed their dinner plans, she whirled back out the door in a flurry of red curls and a cloud of expensive perfume. He was momentarily frozen in place as he processed the events of the morning before shaking himself out of his stupor.

Before he could meet Zelena he had to finish setting out the rest of the items he’d already baked that morning, and in the afternoon he and his head bakery assistant, William Smee, had to start on several special order cakes. But first, he had a very important errand to run. He finished putting the muffins into the front case and headed back to the kitchen.

“Smee,” he said loudly in an attempt to get the other man to look up from where he was piping thin streams of melted chocolate in elaborate shapes onto waxed paper. Smee didn’t respond and Killian belatedly realized he’d popped headphones in. “Smee,” he repeated more loudly, tapping him on the shoulder. Smee startled, smudging one of the chocolate designs with the side of his hand.

“Oh dammit,” Smee muttered, dropping the piping bag on the counter and reaching for a rag. Pulling his headphones off, he glanced up at Killian. “Was that really necessary?”

“Sorry,” Killian replied, “but I need to head out a bit earlier than planned for that errand. Wendy should be in soon to cover the front, but can you finish setting everything else out and keep an eye out in case there are customers before she gets here? I’ll be back after lunch and we’ll get going on the first of those orders.”

Smee nodded. “Sure thing, boss. Hey, would you mind bringing back-”

“A tuna melt on rye and a double order of fries?” Killian guessed, and Smee nodded again. “Not a problem. See you in a bit.”

Killian took off his apron and hung it on a peg by the back door before grabbing his jacket, keys, and a satchel filled with several canisters of spray paint. Pulling his hat out of his jacket pocket, he tugged it down over his ears as he shouldered the door open and stepped out into the cold, crisp air. Walking down the alleyway that ran behind Second Star, he moved with purpose in the direction of the waterfront.

He was about to take the next step in his plan to court Emma - he only hoped it worked.

-/-

Emma stared at the back wall of the Storybrooke Cannery, her mouth slightly open in awe. Writing scrolled across the entire back wall of the building in looping, elegant lines. She’d not been immediately familiar with it, but a quick websearch had revealed it was part of a Shakespearean sonnet.

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,

But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

She gazed at the words - lines of green and gold boxed them in like a frame - for a moment longer. There was something vaguely familiar about the swoop and swirl of the writing, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on where she’d seen it before. She turned to Eric Prince, the Cannery’s day shift supervisor, with a frown. “You’re sure no one saw who did this?”

Eric shrugged. “The first shift was in full swing and all my guys were on the line - it’s pretty quiet back here unless it’s lunchtime or shift change.”

Emma nodded. “Of course,” she said, feeling a bit defeated that once again she had nothing to go on. “Do you want to press charges when we find who did this?”

Eric looked at her, then up at the graffiti. “That’s not really up to me - I kind of like it. But you’re going to have to ask the owner.”

Emma sighed. Talking to old Mr. Svendsen, whose family had run the Cannery practically since Storybrooke had first existed, was not high on her list. (He was a sweet man, but getting on in years and notoriously hard of hearing - conversations with him tended to last forever and she just did not have the time). Still, she knew she had to see this through. “Alright,” she said. “Is he in his office?”

“Uh, yep.” Eric turned towards the building and Emma followed him inside.

Emma found, after a roughly half hour conversation, that Mr. Svendsen didn’t want was to press charges. He apparently liked the graffiti, and decided it gave the building a nice change of pace.

Shaking her head as she stepped back outside, she turned to look at the graffiti once more. “I’ve got to be missing something here,” she muttered. “Twice in a month? In this town? It’s got to be the same person...but no one wants to press charges. I don’t get it.”

“Talking to yourself, Emma? That’s not good,” David said with a grin as he came around the corner of the building.

“Ha ha,” Emma rolled her eyes. “I’m just frustrated this has happened again and we’re no closer to figuring out who’s behind it than we were the first time - and that the building owner doesn’t want to press charges this time either. I mean, it is a crime.”

“Well,” David said thoughtfully, “I see your point...but this isn’t the worst thing we’ve had to deal with on the job. It’s actually kinda romantic, isn’t it?”

“Not you too!” she cried, throwing up her hands in disbelief. “That’s practically the same thing that Eric and Svendsen said.”

“Well maybe we’re onto something,” he said with a grin, falling into step beside her as she headed back towards the cruiser.

“It’s more like you all have some kind of Valentine’s hangover,” she grumbled. “We’re supposed to enforce the law, David, not admire the work of vandals.”

“I know that,” he said jovially. “But we can’t do anything if the owners don’t want to press charges...besides, you’ve got to admit, that,” he pointed over his shoulder at the graffiti, “is not just vandalism...whoever’s doing this is really good.”

“I guess,” she conceded, though privately she did agree with David. “Still wish we had some clue to go on though.”

David looked at her thoughtfully as they got in the cruiser and backed out of the parking lot. “I think that’s the real root of the problem.”

“What is?”

“It’s not that this is - technically - a crime that’s bothering you,” he replied. “You’re more upset you can’t figure out who did it.”

Emma was silent for a moment before she groaned. “Okay. Yes. Fine. There are no real clues and no one will press charges so I feel like it’d be kind of pathetic if I keep investigating anyway, and the not knowing is driving me nuts, I’ll admit it. Okay?!”

“As long as you admit it,” David said, trying - and failing - to muffle his laughter.

“You are impossible,” she said, doing her best to inject a glare into her tone since she couldn’t take her eyes off the road long enough to actually look at him.

“Yeah, but I put up with you, so…”

“You’re just asking for it, aren’t you Nolan?” she replied, teasingly. “Well, just for that, you’re buying lunch,” she said as she parked near Granny’s.

They got out and headed towards the diner, David grumbling good-naturedly. As they reached the steps, the door swung open. Before Emma knew it, she was face to face with a slightly harried looking Killian.

After their encounter at Second Star earlier in the morning, Emma had hoped to have a bit more time to process her jumbled thoughts and emotions - but as she’d been actively trying to avoid thinking about how awkward it had been, she hadn’t actually dealt with anything she’d been feeling.

All of which led to more awkwardness now. They stared silently at each other for what felt like an absurdly long amount of time. Killian recovered more quickly, breaking their shared gaze and looking down at his feet for a moment before glancing back up at her. “Swan, I’m glad I bumped into you. You left so quickly this morning, I never got to explain-”

“You don’t have to explain anything,” Emma cut in, acutely aware of the fact they were standing in Granny’s open doorway and David was only a couple of feet behind her. “I had to get to work, you had plans to make. We’re both adults,” she said, dropping her voice so David couldn’t overhear her. “Not everything we do has to revolve around each other’s schedule.”

She’d been aiming for breezy and unaffected, but her tone must have come off as slightly bitter, because Killian flinched before plastering on a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Right, of course. I know that, but I rather enjoy spending time with you, Swan...and I’d hoped you did too,” he muttered, before raising his voice to a more normal pitch and addressing both her and David. “Got to head back now. Smee gets disgruntled if I don’t feed him regularly,” he joked, lightly shaking the bag of food he had clutched in his hand.

He brushed past her gently, giving her one last fleeting, emotion-filled glance before heading down the steps. She didn’t have time to react before he was gone and David was urging her inside.

She muddled her way through lunch, only half paying attention to David’s theories about the art vandal and his stories about what he and Mary-Margaret had done last weekend. She responded in the appropriate places, but part of her attention was elsewhere.

She was still thinking about Killian when they headed back to the station for the rest of their shift. As they walked into the office, Emma’s phone buzzed. Fishing it out, she was a bit nervous to see a text from Killian. But when she read it, the tension she’d unconsciously been carrying leached out of her body and a smile spread across her face.

KJ: Sorry if I was a bit rude when I saw you earlier, Swan. Big business dinner tonight - that slightly scary woman you met this morning is a new client who’s been keeping me on my toes.

She breathed a sigh of relief, which was quickly followed by a cringe of embarrassment - she couldn’t believe she’d been so ready to be jealous of someone who turned out to be a client of Killian’s. She was the one who owed Killian an apology for acting so strangely that morning - but she couldn’t really apologize without explaining why she’d been out of sorts in the first place, and confessing your undying love for your best friend over text message just seemed unbearably like something out of one of Mary-Margaret’s beloved rom coms.

ES: Nothing to apologize for - I was the one who got kinda short with you. Sorry about that, btw. Hope all goes well tonight. Tell me all about it soon. Lunch tomorrow?

His affirmative response came back nearly instantaneously, and Emma smiled. Her day was suddenly looking up, and tomorrow she’d have another chance to try to change things for the better between her and Killian. This time, she wouldn’t screw it up.

Late February-Early June…

Emma didn’t screw up that second chance with Killian - but it wasn’t due to any great show of bravery on her part.

Their lunch the day after their awkward encounter at Granny’s had been interrupted by Leroy, one of the workers at the town’s mine, getting into a fight with a group of bikers. Emma had had to dash out of the diner mid-lunch, apologizing profusely to Killian. He’d understood and they’d agreed to try for a movie night the following week.

But then Henry’d come down with the flu and Emma’d spent two weeks taking care of him and all thoughts of movie nights - and confessing feelings - were strictly off the table. When Henry was finally feeling better, it was Killian’s turn to be less available. The Easter season was always busy at Second Star, and ever since he’d signed the contract to be the main bakery supplier for Zelena and Cruella’s local chain of inns, he’d been flooded with work. He’d had to hire and train two new bakers just to keep up with the orders for the inns so he and Smee could focus on the rest of the bakery’s pre-existing workload.

In the middle of all of that, Elsa had spontaneously visited for Ingrid’s birthday in late April, and, in a move that pretty much confirmed Emma’s suspicions about the two of them, Liam had turned up for an extended vacation around the same time - he’d stayed until almost the middle of May. Killian had been grateful to have the time with his brother (not to mention another set of hands in the bakery - the pair of them had practically been raised in their aunt and uncle’s bakery in England. Liam was almost as skilled as Killian, even if he’d not pursued baking as a career), but by the time Liam had headed back home to London the spring had flown by.

Emma also had been pursuing the artistic vandal all over town. In March, the side wall of the flower shop, Game of Thorns, was painted with “If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more,” from Jane Austen’s Emma. April saw the convent’s garden retaining wall get decorated with a portrait of a woman. Her face was mostly hidden, but her long golden hair seemed to float on an invisible breeze and her arm was outstretched. Most striking of all, she held a vibrant crimson heart in her hand.

In May, the artist (Emma had finally given up on calling him a vandal) was back to Shakespeare. This time it was a quote from Much Ado About Nothing - “I were but little happy if I could say how much. Lady, as you are mine, I am yours” - covering the sidewalk in front of the middle school. The words were outlined and embellished with golden flourishes, and followed by a pair of clasped hands, the fingers interlaced. Something familiar about that image tugged at the back of Emma’s brain, but it refused to cohere into a usable clue.

Emma was still frustrated she couldn’t uncover the artist’s identity - particularly since after the art at Game of Thorns and the convent, it had become clear that whoever this artist was, they intended these messages for her. A little voice in the back of her mind had wondered - at first - if she should be creeped out by that.

But there was just something about this art that was familiar. It made her feel warm and safe, as though the artist’s emotions were bleeding through the work, reaching out, and wrapping around her. It made her feel cherished - she couldn’t bring herself to take a cynical view of it. After several pieces had appeared around town, she created a photo array of them all at the station, and spent far too many hours staring at them when she should have been working.

(If a little voice in the back of her head insisted it was Killian...well, she chalked it up to her own wishful thinking and forced herself to set the thoughts aside).

The last several months had also wrought a difference in her relationship with Killian. Though they’d never really talked about the Valentine’s Day Near Kissing Incident, and the circumstances of their hectic lives had kept Emma from making another serious attempt to discuss her feelings with him, things had slowly and subtly shifted between them.

In the few times they’d been able to spend any significant time together over the past few months, they’d been far more tactile - Killian curling an arm around her shoulder at Ingrid’s birthday party, Emma looping her arm through his as they strolled through the park, his hand on the small of her back as they listened to Liam tell stories about his work, and on and on.

They were almost testing the waters of couplehood without explicitly discussing it - afraid if they examined what they were doing too closely, they wouldn’t have the courage to actually keep doing it.

Emma wasn’t sure what had prompted it, but she was definitely enjoying it - it had made her even more hopeful that when she finally got a damn moment to make her confession, it would be well-received.

But she was beaten to the punch before she could ever put her newfound resolve to the test.

First Saturday in June…

“Hey Mom?” Henry’s voice preceded him down the stairs of their apartment, his heavy footfalls thunking from his room to the kitchen where Emma was sitting at the table enjoying her morning coffee and flipping through the Storybrooke Mirror.

“Yeah, kid?” she replied, looking up as he plopped himself down across from her.

“Could we go to the library today? Like, soon-ish? There’s a couple of books I need for a project, and uh...I really need Belle’s help finding them,” he said, fidgeting as he waited for her reply.

“Why’s it so urgent?” she asked, raising a brow expectantly. She had a feeling that she knew what was coming - she just needed Henry to say it.

“I, uh, didn’t exactly start it as soon as I should and...I can get it done in time, don’t worry!” he reassured her, “but I need to go pick up these books today if I’m going to make it happen,” he said, flashing her his best i’m-cute-and-usually-better-prepared-than-this-so-please-don’t-punish-me-for-leaving-homework-till-the-last-minute-just-this-once grin.

After holding his stare for a moment, Emma shook her head and laughed under her breath. “Sure kid.” She had no doubt Henry would create something amazing, and it really wasn’t like him to leave things late, so she wasn’t worried it would become a habit. “But why do you need me to go? Usually, you head down there on your own.”

“Yeah,” Henry agreed, “but I was kinda hoping we could go to Granny’s for pancakes after.”

“Ahhh, now the truth is revealed,” Emma laughed. She pretended to think for a moment, but really, Henry had gotten to her the moment he’d said pancakes. “Alright, kid. Let’s go.”

-/-

Emma should’ve suspected something was up when - after they’d finally left the library and headed for the diner- she started getting slightly strange looks from the townsfolk. Everyone was smiling at her, and a few people gave her a thumbs up - most disturbingly, Leroy winked at her.

Shrugging it off and following Henry into Granny’s, she noticed her son was absorbed in his phone, texting with dizzying speed. “What’s up?” she questioned as they slid into a booth.

“Huh?” he looked up for a moment before his phone buzzed and he was engrossed again. “Oh, um, it’s just Avery...we’re trying to figure out plans for tomorrow. He was asking if I could come over for the afternoon. Can I, please?”

“Maybe. If you get that project finished first, okay. Do that and then we’ll talk.”

“That’s fair,” Henry said with a grin as the waitress arrived at their table.

“I’m glad you think so,” Emma said with a chuckle. They ordered and spent the time waiting for their pancakes to arrive chatting about what Henry had done in school the prior week and some of the plans they’d already been making for his summer vacation (which, according to Henry, couldn’t start soon enough).

It wasn’t until Emma was paying their bill that Henry’s phone started buzzing again. He looked at it briefly and fired off a text before they headed out the door. As they descended Granny’s front steps, Henry spoke again. “Mom, do you mind if we walk home by the park?”

“Yeah, sure...You still need to get to your homework as soon as we get home, but I don’t see why not as long as we don’t stay too long,” she agreed. “It’ll help work off the mountain of pancakes we just inhaled.” They turned in the direction of the park, enjoying the warm breeze and dappled sunlight as it fell through the trees lining the wide streets.

Though Emma began to regret agreeing to Henry’s suggestion as even more passers-by shot odd looks and smiles her way. Seriously, what is UP with everyone today?!

She didn’t have much longer to wonder. As they approached the park, Emma saw her name, painted in large, looping curls and swoops, stretching across the sidewalk in front of the main entrance gate. An arrow, outlined in gold, pointed down the walkway leading away from the gate, and she could just make out the clustered shapes of several hearts a few feet beyond that. “What?” she asked, dumbstruck. “Henry, did you know this would be here?” she glanced back at her son, who had stopped a few feet behind her.

Well, this certainly explains all the strange looks.

“Uh, maybe?” he replied sheepishly, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Yes, kinda,” he corrected. “Okay, yes.”

“Wait a minute,” she turned back to face him. “Do you know who’s been behind this? Have you known the whole time?”

“Look, Mom...but don’t you want to find out who’s at the other end of that path?” he asked. “I’m going to head home and get started on my project, and,” he continued, seeing she had opened her mouth to interject, “I’ve asked Mary-Margaret to come around and keep an eye on me - so don’t worry. I’ll be fine. Go!” he smiled at her encouragingly and shooed her towards the park entrance.

“Don’t think you’re getting out of telling me every single thing later, Henry David Swan,” she warned, though the grin tugging at the corner of her mouth made her words far less stern than she’d intended. He nodded and took off down the street as she turned back to the park entrance.

She gazed at her name again for a moment before stepping into the park and onto the path. As she followed the arrow to the cluster of hearts, her pulse accelerated and a sense of nervous excitement settled over her. A little further into the park, the path diverged and she looked around in momentary confusion before spotting more words painted on the left-hand path, the one leading towards the gazebo in the center of the park.

“This is it. This is life...” she murmured aloud, reading along with the words. There was something vaguely familiar about the phrasing - it tugged at her memory, and she must have recognized it on some subconscious level, because her pulse kicked up even further.

She followed the path a bit further and saw more words painted on the old, cracking asphalt.

“...And I'm in love with you...I think that's the only thing I've ever really been sure of in my entire life…” she whispered, again reading along with the text. Another group of hearts and another golden arrow followed that part of the quote, which she now recognized was from Garden State.

In that moment, she was certain.

She’d had her suspicions - and hopes - as to who the mystery artist was. But that quote cemented it. Her steps picked up speed as she headed for the last stretch of the path, looking ahead as she approached the gazebo.

There, stretching along the last section of the pathway, were the final words. “... I don't want to waste any more of my life without you in it.” Killian stepped out from under the roof of the gazebo, a small smile on his face. “Hello, Swan,” he murmured.

She didn’t stop moving, she didn’t slow down - in fact she sped up as she got closer to him, and when she reached him, she promptly punched him in the shoulder.

“Oi!” he cried, “what was that for?”

“It was you all this time?!” she shouted. “Do you know how crazy you’ve been driving me?!”

“I’ll have to admit, I’d envisioned you saying something like that - but in a decidedly different tone,” he muttered, wincing a bit and reaching up to rub at where she’d punched him. “Look...I realize this might’ve been a rather...elaborate...way of confessing my feelings...but you have to know, Emma. It’s you...it’s been you for quite some time now, and that’s not going to change.” He raked his hands through his hair, nerves visibly increasing as her silence continued. “I’m trying to say I love you, Swan, and thinking of how to tell you has been bloody terrifying-”

“So you decided to do it in the most public way possible?” she asked, finally finding her voice. “That was a big risk.”

“Aye,” he said, taking a few cautious steps closer to her. He reached out and cupped her face in his hand, his fingers sliding just into the hair behind her ear as his thumb brushed her cheek. “But you deserved the grandest of romantic gestures, love. I was willing to take the chance.”

Her arms wound around his waist as she stepped even closer to him, until there was really no space left between them at all. She took a deep breath. Here goes. “I love you, Killian. It was you...all this time,” she continued, her tone infinitely softer and laced with her abundant affection. She pressed up on her tiptoes, whispering, “do you know how crazy you’ve been driving me?” against his mouth before sealing her lips to his.

They sank into the kiss, their embrace growing closer and closer until Emma’s arms were draped over Killian’s shoulders and his were wrapped firmly around her waist. They had difficulty parting from one another, even when breathing became a pressing issue. They dove back in for kiss after kiss, becoming lost in each other.

It’s really amazing how different this is when you love someone so deeply, Emma thought hazily as Killian nibbled at her lower lip. She gasped sharply at the sensation, his tongue flicking out and soothing the spot before darting into her mouth to curl around her own. Just like that, their kiss took on another dimension, growing more passionate, hotter, wetter, and deeper - and Emma could no longer think at all.

Long moments later, they finally drew back, but kept their foreheads pressed tightly together. As they tried to regain their breath, Emma chuckled.

“What, love?” Killian said, a soft smile on his face.

“Oh, just...clearly Henry was in on this whole thing, I know that much now,” she said, pulling back to look at him. “But you’re going to have to tell me how you pulled all of this off without anyone wanting to press charges over any of the paintings...how much of the town was part of your master plan?”

“Well, love,” he said with a grin, taking every chance he could to use her new nickname. “That sounds like a perfect story for our first date.” He turned and started walking back up the path away from the gazebo, curling his arm around her shoulders when she fell into step next to him. “Can I pick you up tomorrow night at seven?”

She looked up at him, her face feeling like it would split in two from the force of her grin. “That sounds perfect.”

One year later…

The graffiti appeared once again, after another sleepy year in Storybrooke - but this time, Emma had no doubts as to its source. One morning when she opened the door of the seaside cottage she and Henry now shared with Killian, the simple question, Will you marry me, Swan? looped its way down the front walk to the welcome sight that was Killian, down on one knee, at their gate.

(His smile was bright, his cheeks were flushed, and while one hand held a very particular type of jewelry box, the other nervously tugged at the hair behind his right ear).

Killian grinned when she used her own can of spray paint (shoved in her hand by Henry before he’d nudged her out the door) to write her simple, but perfect, response right next to his knee.

Yes.

#cslb #cslb 2018 #cs ff #captain swan #ouat ff #my fic #the writing's on the wall #this has been a labor of love #and i'm intensely proud of it #and excited to share it #but also sad to realize it's really finished #it's a bittersweet feeling to be sure #but i'm really happy with how this fic turned out #and can't wait to see what you all think!!#enjoy!!!!!!!!

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