#it's not a float without red M&Ms

[blondiest]

NEALLO / BLONDIEST

WRITING MASTERPOST

ships i have written for:

hellcheer (eddie/chrissy from stranger things season 4)

meronia (mello/near from death note)

this blog is almost entirely SFW, but my writing, which i frequently share on here, does not always fall into that category. minors please do not interact with my mature or explicit fics! you can also find me @neallo

find below a list of fics i have posted, separated by fandom and completion status! (note: hellcheer fics not yet added to this list. also it's really out of date)

death note fanfiction

complete:

hot soup on a cold day

rating: T | category: M/M | chapters: 5/5 | words: 15.6k | series [1/2]

“Roger,” Near says urgently, tapping the old man’s shoulder. “Roger, Mello needs another pillow.” Roger gives Near a questioning look, slight disapproval in his eyes “He’s not making me get him one,” Near clarifies. “Mello is asleep right now. He just doesn’t look comfortable, that’s all.” Roger looks like he’s about to protest, so Near adds— “And I have my mask, so I won’t get sick.” The headmaster sighs, pointing down the hallway towards the linen closet. Near retrieves the perfect pillow— not so old as to be sagging, but not so new as to be overly stiff. Once he props Mello’s head up better, gingerly moving the older boy’s head as he sleeps, he finds Roger again. “I think Mello’s room is too cold. Do you have a space heater I could use?” Roger massages his temples. “Ms. Peterson may have one in her classroom,” he replies / “Very well, I’ll ask her. Thank you, Roger.” The white-haired boy shuffles away, determined. He’s distantly aware that he's being a pest to Roger, but it's all in aid of a good cause. Mello is sick. Mello almost never gets sick, and Near is the expert on being sick, so Near is going to make sure Mello is as comfortable as possible.

hot tea on a cold night

rating: T | category: M/M | chapters: 1/1 | words: 800 | series [2/2]

Mello is half-asleep when it happens. He’s half-asleep, and he thinks Near is totally asleep, but then the younger boy wriggles in his arms, burrowing closer under the covers, and murmurs: “I love you.”

Minutes to Midnight (collaboration with @empressofthewind)

[part 2 of Time Together]

rating: E | category: M/M | chapters: 3/3 | words: 14.8k

This is the only issue Near has with letting Mello do all their debriefings: it’s easy for Near to stare, undetected and uninterrupted, for a long, long time. In New York, he mitigates this by spreading out on the floor and surrounding himself with toys or cards or dice. Whatever he needs to do to occupy himself. When they’ve travelled for cases before – which isn’t common by any stretch of the imagination – Near has relied on the movements and sounds of their colleagues to pull his attention away instead. The squeak of Rester’s chair, the tapping of Gevanni’s polished shoe, the sound of Lidner shuffling through papers. He uses whatever he can to keep his eyes off Mello. Out of sight, out of mind. Right now, he’s out of luck.

it’s you and me, that’s my whole world

[part 1 of together (always)]

rating: T | category: F/F | chapters: 1/1 | words: 3.5k

Once she reaches the first floor and steps out of the elevator, Near hears a voice floating down the hall. It’s a woman’s voice, so it must be Lidner, but the pitch of it and the cadence of speech seems painfully similar to the way Mello talked, even without being able to hear the actual words. The closer she gets, the more it sounds like her dead lover, and Near curses how cruel her mind’s tricks are. She has to grit her teeth and breathe in deep to get herself to push through the door into the main office, feeling almost nauseous with grief again already. A blonde woman in a red winter jacket stands with her back to Near, but she turns when the toy in Near’s hand clatters to the ground. Mello’s eyes are tired, underlined by dark circles, but she grins. “Hey, Near.”

i know i’m gonna lose you (but god, i don’t want to)

[part 2 of together (always)]

rating: E | category: F/F | chapters: 1/1 | words: 3.5k

Near’s bedroom— her tidy little suite in her untidy little makeshift headquarters in a high-rise hotel in Tokyo— is lit only by the shine of the city and the glow of the moon. Because the moon is full and because the city is bright, Mello can see her perfectly. Every little hair on her arms and legs catch the light as she sheds her soft, simple bra. The only thing Mello has taken off so far are her gloves. -- In which Mello rings in 2010 with some good old-fashioned lesbian sex and a minor emotional crisis. prequel to it's you and me, that's my whole world.

there's nothing i want but you

[part 1 of i want to hold you (hostage)]

rating: T | category: M/M | chapters: 1/1 | words: 1.5k

Though Near doesn’t really mind Mello’s tendency towards jealousy, he also doesn’t understand it. There’s no one in the world Near wants the way he wants Mello, no one who matters the way Mello does— he’s everything to Near. There’s no reason for him to feel jealous of anyone else. Near doesn’t get jealous of anyone else. Until, one day, he does.

nothing hurts like you do

[part 2 of i want to hold you (hostage)]

rating: E | category: M/M | chapters: 1/1 | words: 3.8k

Mello shoves him against the wall, his free hand moving from Near’s hair to the center of his chest as he holds the gun just inches from his forehead. He gives Near a once-over, quick, and at first Near thinks he hasn’t noticed anything amiss, but then an unkind smile unfurls on his face. “Hands up,” Mello says, grinning manically.

i want to hold you (hostage)

[part 3 of i want to hold you (hostage)]

rating: E | category: M/M | chapters: 4/4 | words: 21.7k

Rico asks, casual, what Mello will want next, what he’ll aim for after he gets the notebook, and suddenly it’s like the ground has dropped out from underneath him, because the first thing that comes to mind is Near. His stomach sinks as he tries to regain some semblance of composure, fighting off imaginings both tender and cruel, furious with himself for being so weak-minded. Near, he thinks forcefully, is in the past. He isn’t an option for what’s to come— and even if he was, Mello wouldn’t want him. (He wouldn’t.) (He wouldn’t.) (God. He can’t even convince himself anymore.)

my only one, my smoking gun

[part 1 of our love is god]

rating: E | category: M/M | chapters: 4/4 | words: 3.3k

For as long as he can recall, he’s ached over Near. It wasn’t always like this, though; he didn’t realize he wanted Near until it was too late to actually have him. He should be grateful, really, because he’s been able to linger here after death, and that’s more than he deserves, but God, Mello would give anything to kiss him just once.

heaven is a place on earth with you

[part 2 of our love is god]

rating: E | category: M/M | chapters: 1/1 | words: 1.4k

There is no blood or body of Christ, no priest and no pews, but it’s here and now that Mello finally rediscovers a long-lost sliver of faith. Hands on Near’s hips, Mello lowers his face and presses his mouth to Near’s soft abdomen. “I love you,” he murmurs, head bowed and eyes shut as if in prayer.

replication in reverse

[part 3 of our love is god]

rating: E | category: M/M | chapters: 1/1 | words: 1.4k

Mello mumbles something into his neck, something to the effect of waiting until Near is ready for him to move, but Near only halfway registers it. Golden hair tickles his nose, and he pictures mitosis— prophase, metaphase, anaphase, telophase— then imagines cytokinesis in reverse. Two cells pushed together until, somehow, their membranes connect, two phospholipid bilayers self-arranging into one continuous structure, cytoplasms mingling. He swallows thickly and longs for something impossible.

starry eyes sparking up my darkest nights

[part 1 of you got your eyes from the stars]

rating: T | category: F/F | chapters: 1/1 | words: 930

Near has a nightmare on the flight back to New York after the end of the Kira case; Mello, still tipsy off of the red wine they served in first class, is unexpectedly tender.

fireworks somewhere far away

[part 2 of you got your eyes from the stars]

rating: T | category: F/F | chapters: 1/1 | words: 2k

It’s the fourth of July. Or, rather, it’s still the fourth of July in the United States, which is where they live, but they’re in Madrid at the moment, so technically where they are it’s the fifth. It’s not hard math to figure out what time it is back home— it’s a little before six in the morning here, so it’ll be a little before midnight in New York. Somewhere on the West Coast or in the Rocky Mountains, though, there are fireworks going off. That’s what Near is thinking when Mello kisses her for the first time.

engaged

rating: M | category: M/M | chapters: 1/1 | words: 1.4k

“So, like, I suddenly realized… Near is into me. Like, Near wants me.” He pauses as if to allow this to sink in, looking at Matt like this is still a groundbreaking revelation the second time around when it in fact was not even groundbreaking the first. Near’s crush has been obvious to literally everyone but Mello for the past ten years. “Yes. This surprised you. And also me, because I definitely did not know that Near was into you before you told me fifteen minutes ago.” Mello nods, satisfied, entirely missing Matt’s sarcasm, which might be for the best. “So, naturally, I slept with him.” “Naturally,” Matt says. Mello does not miss the sarcasm this time. “If you’re just going to be a judgmental bitch the whole time, I’m not going to explain it again. You should be smart enough to remember what I fucking said the first time anyway.” “No, yeah, I actually think most well-adjusted people would sleep with their sworn enemies the moment they find out they’re into them.” Matt smiles tightly. “It wasn’t the moment I found out,” Mello says petulantly. “I waited like, four hours.”

it’s friday, i’m in love

rating: M | category: M/M | chapters: 1/1 | words: 2.7k

Mello abandons a night out in favor of seeing (and holding and kissing and sleeping beside) Near.

early arrival

rating: E | category: M/M | chapters: 1/1 | words: 1.5k

It’s one in the morning and Near is wide awake, talking to Mello in hushed tones as the other passengers sleep soundly around them. According to the small screen on the back of the seat in front of him, they’re more than halfway through the flight, but it’s far from almost-over— it will be another three hours before they touch down in London.

Distraction (collaboration with @empressofthewind)

rating: E | category: M/M | chapters: 1/1 | words: 2.9k

The small pout Near offers in response would, under normal circumstances, result in the rapid undoing of Mello’s resolve. Worse still is that Near has begun writhing in his lap; not quite grinding on him, but shifting his weight in a way that’s troublesome nonetheless. Mello huffs. Near is fully aware of what he’s doing. He knows the effect he has on Mello. He’s teasing him. If that’s how this is going to be, then perhaps Mello will do a little teasing of his own.

wedding doves & leather gloves

rating: E | category: F/F | chapters: 1/1 | words: 1k

“Don’t tell me,” Near says, derisive tone tainted by her words wavering. “You want to hear that I’m yours.” Exquisite pain blossoms across her scalp as Mello yanks on her hair. “Don’t be a fucking brat,” Mello hisses. “Answer me. What are you, Near?” “I’m a detective,” she replies flatly. “Just like you are.”

unknown caller

rating: E | category: F/F | chapters: 1/1 | words: 3.3k

“What are you wearing?” Near’s brow furrows in confusion. “What I always have worn.” “Mm. It’s summer, so— linen, right?” “Correct.” She wonders, then, if Mello asked the question to prompt Near to ask the same in return. Sometimes people do that. This is something she has learned since Mello left. “What are you wearing?” Near asks politely. “I am wearing,” Mello says, breathy, “black lace. It’s this— this fucking expensive set, you know— nice lingerie. I look good in it.” The description is extremely vague. Near does not know what nice lingerie looks like— she wears the same kind of cotton boyshort underwear every single day and a soft, thin bra. She also does not, honestly, know what Mello’s aim is in telling her this. It seems unlikely that she would call for the first time in five years to gloat about her finery, so there must be some kind of purpose to it, she just— “I’m touching myself,” Mello announces. Near drops the phone.

shot in the dark (collaboration with @empressofthewind)

rating: E | category: M/M | chapters: 1/1 | words: 8.2k

Mello’s posture changes, abrupt but liquid-smooth, shoulders squaring and spine straightening as he raises the gun until Near is staring down the barrel of it. Blood rushes in his ears, loud. Mello licks his lips. “Get up.”

something stronger than the drinks in the bar (matt/halle)

rating: M | category: F/M | chapters: 1/1 | words: 2.3k

A former CIA agent and an exonerated felon walk into a hotel. There’s no punchline. They just fuck.

crying only because i’m happy

rating: E | category: F/F | chapters: 1/1 | words: 575

In which Mello lovingly overwhelms her good girl.

there’s an ache in you put there by the ache in me

rating: T | category: M/M | chapters: 1/1 | words: 975

The snow angels are, in all honesty, an excuse, a shameless attempt to get Near alone, to talk with him away from all these fucking people. He didn’t expect so many of their classmates to come back to Wammy’s for the holidays, but maybe he should have— after all, he hates this place, and yet here he is, half-drunk and dragging his ex-rival-turned-ex-something-else out into the cold.

three part harmony

rating: E | category: M/M | chapters: 2/2 | words: 6.1k

The thing is, whether Mello wants to admit it or not, there’s clearly chemistry between him and Near. It’s not like what he and Matt have with one another; it’s more intense. A little volatile, maybe. It used to be almost painful for Matt to watch, because it made him feel excluded, but he thinks that was probably more a product of his own insecurities than anything else. Now, though... well. Now it kind of turns him on. The first time he realized that, it startled him, because he wasn't just turned on by Mello being in his element, staring intently at Near as the two of them talked over the details of a new case. No. Something about how Near was looking at Mello, the gleam in his eye, the serious set of his jaw— Alright. Matt has a type, okay? He doesn't know why freaky little geniuses do it for him, they just do. Mello probably broke his brain when they lost their virginity to each other in L.A. five years back. It's not Matt’s fault.

untouched

rating: E | category: M/M | chapters: 1/1 | words: 2.5k

The storm is the only reason Near is here, and the only reason Mello let him in. That’s what Mello is trying to tell himself, anyway. — In which an old habit turns into something new.

good boy

rating: E | category: M/M | chapters: 1/1 | words: 5.3k

Mello’s stare is warm and constant, and the comforting exhilaration of it builds and builds within Near until he feels like he may burst. There is something he wants to say to Mello, but he doesn’t know what it is. Before he can ever say anything at all, though, Mello stands to leave. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says. Before he goes, he gives Near two lists. One for the night. One for the next morning. Near always follows them to the letter. — In which Mello and Near form a dom-sub relationship centered entirely around shared meals and to-do lists.

works in progress:

there’s nothing i hate more than what i can’t have

rating: E | category: M/M | chapters: 6/7 | words: 21.6k

“Ah, good morning,” Near says, and solely from the look on his face Mello knows he is missing some key fucking information. “I thought maybe you had left.” Mello shakes his head. He’s somewhat distracted by the fact that he still can’t tell if Near is naked; he’s shirtless, though, and that’s already ten times more of Near’s skin than Mello has ever seen before. Or, it’s more than he can recall seeing, anyways. And now Mello can’t stop staring at his chest. It’s so stupid, because Near is thin and scrawny and all pasty but Mello cannot tear his eyes away anyways— “So—” Mello’s voice fucking cracks as he finally manages to start speaking, a clear sign that some higher power is out to get him. He presses onwards anyways. “So, last night was…” He trails off, not even sure how he wants to finish the sentence, or if he wants to finish it at all. Near brings a pale hand to his hair and idly twirls a strand “Surprising,” Near completes the thought before glancing away. “But… not entirely unpleasant.” — In which Mello wakes up in Near’s bed after a night out and arrives at a wildly incorrect conclusion regarding the events that landed him there.

bury us both

rating: E | category: F/F | chapters: 11/14 | words: 20k

Mello is demonstrably capable of killing, and has perhaps more reason to want Near dead than anyone else on the face of the earth. They were once rivals, and Near knows a fragment of that resentment lingers even now. She is also likely the only person who could successfully bring Mello to justice, so her very existence is a threat to Mello’s, in a sense. If that weren’t enough, there is the fact that Mello could make a fortune, too, were she to kill Near. There are no shortage of people who would pay a handsome sum to see L’s head on a platter. And it would be so simple for her to do it, so easy. She’s had countless opportunities— the two of them alone, Near in all kinds of vulnerable positions, any number of potentially deadly weapons within reach— but she’s never taken one. Despite having every possible motive and every possible chance, Mello has not killed her. On more than one occasion, she’s even protected Near. This is how she knows Mello loves her in her way, even if she has not said it aloud. Even if it isn’t enough to make her stay. -- Mello and Near through the years, in love and in agony.

what doesn't kill me makes me want you more

rating: M | category: F/F | chapters: 3/? | words: 6.3k

“Poor Near,” Mello says, stepping closer and pulling Near’s head back further, tilting her face up as Mello cages her against the wall. “How long have you liked me?” Near’s heart is kicking against her ribcage so hard it almost hurts, and her ears are burning with embarrassment. She squeezes her eyes shut, unable to hold the blonde’s gaze. “Mello, I...” she tries to speak, hoarse. “Has it been months?” Mello asks, her voice getting closer as Near feels her lean down. She braves a glimpse through her lashes and watches as Mello bends her head to brush her cheek against Near’s, putting her lips next to Near’s ear. “Years, maybe?” The older girl teases. Near finds it in herself to squeak out a “yes,” and almost jumps at Mello’s sharp intake of breath. “Years,” Mello marvels.

all’s fair in love and war (and this is both)

rating: T | category: M/M | chapters: 3/4 | words: 15.1k

Near has Mello under siege, dragging him into a battle of wits, strategy, and stealth, one that has him in a state of constant vigilance, ever-ready for an attack. With his dignity and his ego on the line, Mello throws himself head-first into psychological warfare against his longtime rival, trying any tactic he can to help him turn the tide in his favor. The game is as complex and mind-bending as four-dimensional chess, and Mello has to think twenty moves ahead just to keep up, but he’ll be damned before losing to Near at this. Or: Near accidentally gaslights Mello into being his boyfriend, and Mello does Olympic-level mental gymnastics in order to read Near’s actions as sinister.

an unusual proposal

rating: E | category: M/M | chapters: 1/? | words: 2k

“So,” Mello says. “What do you think?” Near scrutinizes his rival. Mello fidgets with the chain attached to his pants, seemingly anxious but still gravely serious. The proposal is… unconventional, to say the least, and logistically rather complicated— there are at least four-dozen things that could go wrong, and that’s just off the top of his head. It won’t be easy. His decision, though, is easy. He does not want Mello to die, and this, strange as it may be, seems like the best way to protect him. “Yes,” Near says. “I’ll do it.”

love chained

rating: E | category: M/M | chapters: 1/? | words: 4.7k

Against his will, his mind momentarily drifts to Near. He thinks about how Near gets chilled if he isn’t held close enough after he’s been fucked, and how perfectly his body fits against Mello’s own, how comfortable it is to curl around him. It never really bugs him that Near wants to be close after sex. There’s a sort of irresistibility to him, actually, that pulls Mello in— his skin damp and flushed, his breaths uneven, his limbs slack in the aftermath of his orgasm. Near smells kind of nice even when he’s all sweaty, and he makes this happy little sound when Mello’s face finds its way into the crook of his neck, and he’s so quiet and still when he falls asleep that it somehow soothes Mello into slumber, too. God damn it. At the end of the day, this is his problem. He shouldn’t have thoughts this fond about Near; it’s weird, and not at all casual, and if he lets it continue he’s going to completely wreck what they have.

faded to oblivion

rating: E | category: F/M | chapters: 2/? | words: 3.6k

When Near phoned and asked to see him, he had a few vague guesses as to what she might need from him. This was not on the list.

[tatooedlaura-blog]

The Moon

the series read as follows:

Superman … Monday … Cheezy Pouffs … Bacon … Stumbling … Trail Mix …  Punch … Friday … Preparation … Uncle Mudler … Normal … Backseat … Mudler-sense … The FBI … Unthinkable … Patience … Elephant Jokes … Cooking … Rickety Tables … Mr. Skimmer … Bert and Ernie ... Midnight Confessions

___________________

There’s some stuff at the end .. fun stuff .. stuff the cat said was inappropriate for virgin eyes ... I told her to go take a nap ...

___________________

Frustration won.

Growling in the darkness, heart racing, mind flying, she banged the mattress with balled-up fists, “stop. I’m sorry. Can you stop?”

Mulder, having felt her getting nowhere fast and the tension building up accordingly, slowed, then stopped his fingers, burying his lips above her ear, whispering through a kiss, “can’t stop thinking, can you?” Wiggling her hips slightly, she waited for him to remove his hand before she dropped her forearm across her eyes, not daring to look at her partner in that moment, choosing dark embarrassment over honest concern. Mulder, however, wasn’t having any of it, reaching up to gently pull her arm away, “hey, it’s okay.”

Groaning now, she hauled herself up, sitting on the edge of the bed, feet resting on bedframe, elbows on knees, head in hand, “really? Because it feels fairly annoying to me.”

1am had its good moments and 1am had its bad moments, “I’m just telling you what I think and I think that maybe you went looking to forget a little too fast.”

“Are you honestly going to psychoanalyze me in the middle of the night?”

“Nope.” He stood up, then took her hand, a little rougher than usual but feeling it necessary to get her to move, “come on.”

“What? Where are we going?”

“To find you some chocolate ice cream and me a can of root beer. I’m making floats and you can’t stop me.”

Resisting as well as she could, she lost when he practically pulled her from the bed, bare feet providing the traction she couldn’t get on soft sheets a moment earlier. Stumbling slightly, she gave in by the time they reached the top of the stairs, asking him quietly to slow down, “I don’t want to fall down the steps.”

He put the brakes on, “sorry,” as he carefully stepped down, “forgot it was dark.” Once in the kitchen, however, he sat her in a stool at the island and leaning across it, “sexual frustration is easier when both parties get to deal with it. I am going to make you a root beer float, then we are going to take a deep breath while I discuss something with you.”

At that moment, she was teetering on the edge. One direction was complete and total annoyance with her partner, ready to yell and chase him out of the house annoyance while the other side of the line held compliance, slight self-depricating humor and ice cream blended with ‘I adore you’ perfection.

She chose the ice cream side.

Propping her chin in her hands, she finally took a deep breath, “will you at least wash your hands first?”

He liked when she chose the ice cream side.

With a small smile, he nodded, “probably not a bad idea considering where these hands have been in the last hour.”

Spontaneous smiles were good, “just be quiet and make me dessert, would you?”

&&&&&&&&&

Soon, he had settled beside her, spooning ice cream concoction from glass to mouth, “so, are you ready for our discussion?”

He made the world better, in every sense, “I think so. Just … don’t be too honest with me. It’s too late or too early for that.”

“How about I do just the right amount of honesty?” Once she involuntarily crooked an eyebrow for a second, he continued, “you need to listen though, absorb, remember, understand?”

“Yes, for the love of God, now will you just tell me.”

Twisting her chin to meet her gaze, “I am happy. I am happy with you. I am happy that sometime in the next 20 years, we may get married. I am happy that sometime in the next 20 years, we may have a dog or a cat or even a set of hermit crabs. I am happy that it’s me and you. I am happy just the way we are. I would be happy if we spent a bunch of money on trying to have a baby. I am happy if we don’t spend a bunch of money on trying to have a baby. I am happy if we buy a house. I am happy if we only ever buy a mattress big enough for two. I am happy if we get fat from eating ice cream and collect pictures of Big Foot and things by Van Gogh.” Seeing her hanging on his words, he went in for the kill, “I am happy with you.” Enjoying her absorbing look, he continued, “I have only ever wanted you. Everything and anything else is proverbial icing on the cake. I never should have ventured into territory like that when I knew you were exhausted and I was an idiot as well for not realizing that when you asked for a way to forget, you were really asking for what I just told you.”

“You have me analyzed down to the atom, don’t you?”

“Nope. Would never even attempt. You’re too complicated and beautiful and confusing and catastrophically brilliant for that but I will hover around the edges and try to remember when you need a root beer float and a cuddle versus when you need reality-altering sex.”

She truly wanted to be annoyed by this whole snowball of events but when she stopped, she discovered he was so damn close to the truth, it hurt. Three spoonfuls of silence passed between them before she gave him a hint of smile, “this float needs red M&Ms.”

With an ‘ah-hah’ finger in the air, he turned, rummaged in a dish, then sent a red M&M sailing across the granite towards her, “will this do?”

Eyes widening in delight, “where did you get that and how did you get it so quick?”

Thumbing over his shoulder, “the kids and I made M&M brownies a few days back and we ate them all so you didn’t get any, not sorry by the way ‘cause they were phenomenal, but I had Betsy and Toby sort the red ones out for me, then they just went and did all the colors for fun.”

“Did you sort them out just for us?”

“Of course. We both need a red M&M every once in a while and might as well have them at the ready.”

Getting up, she beckoned him to her height with a crooked finger and a smile, “you are an odd duck, Agent Mulder.”

“Do you like odd ducks?”

“I happen to love odd ducks.” Finally meeting his mouth, she tasted ice cream and sugar, “and I think I would like to take a leisurely trip out to the hammocks, maybe remove some of these clothes in the process.”

“Trying to forget again?”

Honest blue meeting questioning green, “just trying to have some sex in a hammock.”

“That sounds like the title of a biography.”

Finishing her last spoonful of ice cream, “just get outside, would you or I’ll have to go do it myself.”

Grin spreading, “think it’ll work?”

“Never hurts to try.”

&&&&&&&&&&

“Oh my God, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Scully whispered this as loud as she thought appropriate, given neighbor proximity and listening crickets. She had her hand over Mulder’s hand, which was holding his left jaw, at the exact spot where she’d just kicked him, hard, with her bare foot.

Conventional sex in a hammock was deemed impossible, Scully’s body folded at a weird angle, Mulder’s body not containing the proper, youth-enhanced muscles of years past to make a good, old-fashioned mission position work. Instead, Scully directed Mulder to lay down, v-ing his body and bringing the necessary parts close enough to the deck, sagging the material to the exact height of Scully’s necessary parts.

She carefully swung her leg over both hammock and waiting body, hands firmly on chest as she positioned, re-positioned and finally sank down on him, both more than ready for the sex to ensue.

Mid-rise, mid-move, mid-lean, all hell broke loose.

Mulder forgot to hold still, Scully forgot to move only up and down, both forgot they were on a narrow  piece of material that, when more than a quarter inch off-center, would flip and twist wildly, depositing whoever is doing whatever onto the ground.

Scully tried to save them, putting one foot down harder than the other, valiant effort all for naught … as the whole hammock kept going, Mulder’s weight a pendulum swing of naked motion. She thought enough to lift off him as not to break his parts but in doing so, brought her leg forward and smashed directly into Mulder’s jaw.

Neither ever would have assumed her legs were long enough to reach his face but reach they did and well, there was now a de-clothed Mulder lying on the deck, on his side, cross-pipe digging into his back while Scully crouched beside him, equally sans pajamas, doing her best not to giggle in mortification.

“Are you okay?”

Not real happy in that second, “what do you think?”

Her giggling was winning, her face turning red, her shoulders beginning to shake, “I think we should have stuck to the kitchen.”

Mulder scooted over to clear the pipe, “get over here, Scully.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really, get over here because from down here, there is this streak of moonlight going across your left nipple and it’s working for me and I can’t fall down any further than this so come here please and let’s finish what this fucking hammock isn’t letting us.”

Knees be damned, she grinned and climbed back on, bare ass facing the neighbor’s side door, “I like how moonlight does it for you.”

“Tell me something about the Moon.”

“It isn’t round. It’s shaped like an egg.”

Hands on thighs, he ignored the throbbing in his jaw, “another.”

Eyes closed, head drifting back, “the moon has no twilight because it has no atmosphere. Day to night happens instantly.”

Moving quickly towards the inevitable, he bit his lip, thumbs finding purchase on jutting hipbones as she sped her rise and fall substantially, “I love you in twilight.”

Tightening muscles brought her to the edge, “I love you anywhere, anytime.”

“I’d take you to the moon if I could.”

Coming around him, with him, she leaned over, finally able to reach his lips without falling, kissing him hard, “I’m perfect right here.”

[somewhatgreatexpectations]

Palace (Wanda Maximoff/ Reader)

Hello! This part is inspired by Sam Smith’s “Palace”. Let me know what you think as we move more into Wanda’s territory. I don’t want to give away much but this part would take place very close to the start of Civil War.  

Summary: Certain members of the team deal with the news that you have decided to leave. A little more into Wanda’s mind.

“I'm gonna miss you. I'm still there. Sometimes I wish we never built this palace, but real love is never a waste of time”

The sound of the quinjet landing in the early morning air was a stark contrast to the serene stillness that surrounded the compound before everyone awoke. With the morning sun still below the horizon it was easy to get lost in the peaceful image. To get lost in this brief moment of tranquility before life caught up to you. 

“Y/n?”

There. The trace was broken because the serenity wasn’t real. It was just an illusion. It couldn’t erase the damage that lurked shallowly under the surface. “Yes, Capsicle?”

Despite himself Steve couldn’t help the chuckle that slipped, “Even now and you won’t call me by my name?” you shrugged with a smirk. His expression became solemn once again. “You’re sure about this then?” he nodded towards the jet. 

Steeling your features, you nodded firmly. “I think it’ll be good for me. They need my help and you all have everything under control over here… for now.” You added cheekily. 

A sigh replaced what would have normally been a laugh. “You’re sure you don’t want to say goodbye to… anyone?” He trailed off, but you knew exactly who he was referring to. Wanda.

“It’s for the best. There’s no point dragging this out any longer. I’m just a part of her past now. Plus, I want this. My purpose in life has always been to help those who need it. I’m just fulfilling that purpose, Steve.” You answered with what you hoped was a believable smile.

What you didn’t tell him was that you used to believe that your purpose on this earth was her. It didn’t matter either way because she couldn’t be anymore. 

Wordlessly Steve pulled you into his arms. You willed yourself to stop the watering of your eyes as you hugged him back. “It’s not going to be the same without you here, kid.”

Over his shoulder you noticed the sun begin to rise on the horizon. Time was running out. Soon everyone would be up whether it be for training, meetings, or just breakfast. Then you’d lose your nerve. 

With a small sniffle you pulled back and smiled weakly up at Steve. “Try not to replace me while I’m gone.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Remember if you ever need my help, I’ll be back. And-” you took a sharp breath before continuing. “And please, don’t tell her where I am.”

Steve frowned at your final comment but nodded nonetheless. “You have my word. Take care of yourself out there. Call when you can.”

With one final nod you turned and boarded the quinjet without a glance back. Steve stayed until he saw the jet disappear in the distance, dreading the moment when everyone found out. 

Dreading the moment when Wanda found out.  

It wasn’t until mid-afternoon that the questions began. Steve breathed a sigh of relief that they weren’t directed at him.

“Has anyone seen y/n?” Natasha asked, “I have this new disarming move I want to try and she’s always saying she’s too fast for me.”

Wanda perked her head up out of reflex at the sound of your name, but quickly diverted her attention back to the book in her hands. It wasn’t like you would want to see her anyway. That didn’t stop her from eaves dropping on the conversation that was happening around her though. 

“Probably in her room, avoiding our afternoon run I’m sure.” Sam chimed in.

Natasha shook her head, “Already checked there. Anyone else seen her?” She asked the remaining Avengers in the room all of them shaking their heads except Steve who walked away to the kitchen. Wanda was the only one other than Natasha to notice. 

“What aren’t you telling us, Rogers?” Natasha questioned as soon as she entered the kitchen. Her head tilted in challenge.

He huffed out a tired sigh as he leaned against the counter. “Nothing.” He replied shortly which caused Natasha to quirk an eyebrow.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. please call y/n for me and tell her to meet me in the kitchen.” She stated firmly while maintaining eye contact with Steve.

The robotic female voiced sounded moments later. “I’m sorry, Ms. Romanoff, that is not possible as Ms. Y/ln is not currently at the compound.”

Steve rubbed his temple wearily, he had hoped this conversation wouldn’t have to happen so soon. “Where is she?” Natasha countered quickly.

Once again, the robotic voice responded, “That is classified.” Neither Steve nor Natasha noticed the figure that was stopped in her tracks at F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s words. 

For a moment Steve and Natasha remained in a silent stand-off, neither backing down. “Where is she?” she repeated, this time directed towards Steve.

“I can’t tell you that.” he replied quickly.

“What can you tell me?”

For a moment he seemed to think about it, about what he could say without breaking his word. “She’s on a mission.” 

That isn’t entirely out of the ordinary, Wanda thought to herself as she began holding her breath nervously. She had a bad feeling about this.

“Where?” Natasha fired off.

A mere shake of his head was all he gave her, “I can’t tell you that.” He repeated.

“How long?” Natasha stared at him for a moment, analyzing his solemn nature. Realization quickly dawned on her. You weren’t coming back.

There was hesitation in his words as he drew them out slowly. Almost as if he was coming to terms with the words himself. “Possibly a year, maybe two…” he drew in a breath before continuing. Wanda dug her nails into her palm. “It’s most likely indefinite. She may never come back.” He finally concluded somberly. 

Wanda couldn’t contain the gasp that slipped passed her lips. Natasha quickly turned her head in the direction of the sound, her own sadness taking a back seat when she noticed the look on the younger girl’s face.

“Why wouldn’t she tell m- tell us anything?” Wanda demanded desperately, her accent heavily pronounced and her eyes wide with distress. Steve didn’t reply, he couldn’t find it in himself to. He merely looked at her with pity. 

She knew why you didn’t tell her anything. She understood, and her legs felt like they’d give out under the weight of that knowledge any second now. 

Taking pity on the girl Natasha hesitantly made her way over to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Maybe you should go sit down.”

Erratically Wanda pulled herself out of arm’s reach and marched over to Steve, her eyes watering despite her aggressive tone. “Tell me where she is. Right now.”

Steve didn’t waver, his conversation with you playing over in his mind. “I can’t.”

Red wisps began floating around Wanda’s hands as her eyes began to glow. “That’s fine. You’ll tell me whether you want to or not.”

Natasha tried to step in, but Steve merely raised his hand. “I can’t because she didn’t tell me. She thought this might happen. She only told me that she’s leaving and how long she’d be gone. She didn’t tell me where she would be located.” He lied smoothly, surprising even himself. He refused to break his word to you.

Wanda’s eyes slowly returned to their normal shade of green as her shoulders slumped, the fight draining from her body. Steve gently placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “She wanted me to tell you that she was sorry. To all of you.” He added as he looked up at Natasha who nodded sadly in understanding.

At his words, Wanda merely shut her eyes, she knew that they should have brought her comfort, but they didn’t in the slightest. His words wouldn’t change the fact that you were gone and would quite possibly never be back. She knew she had no right to be upset. She made her decision, now she would have to live with it. That knowledge didn’t stop it from hurting though.

“Did she say anything else?” she asked quietly, clinging to any information she could get. Trying desperately to gain control of her emotions.

“That she was fulfilling her purpose by going. Helping others.” Steve offered.

Natasha smiled faintly at his words. “Sounds like destiny then. That’s definitely something she’s good at.” 

Wanda couldn’t have agreed with Natasha more. You were destined to help others. You helped her, saved her, and now you’d be a life raft for others. The secret of your love would no longer be an exclusive privilege that only a select few knew of. The true and whole-hearted way in which you loved her would be given to another. 

One day, she would merely be a ghost of your past. She would become a painful story that you’d share in the arms of another. Her heart fluttered anxiously at the thought. 

It was as though news of your departure made her aware of what her stubborn mind and your usual steady present prevented her from seeing. “Wanda?” she faintly heard a voice call out to her.

Her features remained neutral. The dull ache tightened in her chest. She knew there was nothing she could do to stop it. “Yes?” she replied flatly.

Natasha placed a comforting hand on her arm, a look of concern on her face as Steve watched curiously from where he stood. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Wanda replied, waving her hand. “I’ll be in my room if you need me.”

Both Steve and Natasha exchanged uncertain looks as they watched Wanda exit the kitchen area. With her mind so muddled Wanda just began walking, a laugh escaping her lips when she finally realized where she had gone on reflex. The roof. The same place you both had actively avoided since that fateful nights a few months ago. It was bittersweet. 

She took a seat in the same area you had both sat in countless times before as she pulled her knees to her chest and looked around. It was almost as if she could still hear the soft music playing in the background and the sound of your occasional humming from right beside her, never expecting anything more from her. An unmovable force. A quiet pillar of support that she so often relied on. That was all just a memory now.

She always dreaded the idea that one day she would lose you, she never would have guessed that she would have lost you at her own hands.

In the solitude she finally allowed a few silent tears to fall down her cheek, allowed herself to feel what she had been refusing for so long. She was going to miss you, she knew that much. She was going to miss the beautiful relationship that you had created together, the same relationship that was mere ruins now. She just hoped you would forgive her one day, she hoped that you would return one day soon. She didn’t dare allow herself to hope for more. 

“Wanda?” came the sound of another voice. The contrast of night surprising Wanda when she focused on the world around her once again, she must have been up here for hours. A moment later Vision came into her view.  “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Is something wrong?”

She bit her lip, not ready to talk about the chaos in her mind yet. “I don’t want to talk about it.” Wanda eventually mumbled.

A look of confusion covered Vision’s features, “Is this about Y/n?” he pressed.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” She repeated with growing frustration.

Again, Vision stared at her with confusion. “My findings have suggested that the only way to properly process sadness is to talk about it.” He replied matter-of-factly.

As much as she didn’t want to, she couldn’t help but compare how you comforted her to how Vision was attempting to. “Well, your findings don’t apply to everyone.” She said, her tone laced with irritation.

“My findings are rarely ever wrong.”

Wanda groaned. “Can you just hold me?” 

Cool arms wrapped around her and pulled her close. For a moment he just held her in silence. The silence did not last though. “I still believe it would be beneficial for you to talk to me about how you are feeling.” He insisted once more. 

Wanda ignored him, not having the energy to argue back.

Even though she was in Vision’s arms, all she could think of was you. About how desperately she wished to be in the arms that said they’d never let her go. The arms that she forced to let go. She couldn’t help but feel like she was sinking ever so slightly with no life raft in sight.

There you have it, part 7! Technically this is the first part of this series I wrote with a lot of touch up. As always, I hope you all enjoyed. Thoughts and comments always welcome. :)

[fandomdancer]

The Dance

In the year 2169, you are a senior in high school. You've been best friends with the same two young men since grade school. One of them is your date to the senior dance. The other is the class loner: Eobard Thawne. When your date make a suddenly unexpected move, you find yourself feeling like the perfect night is ruined. But then Eobard shows up...

Word Count: 3,754 words

Rating: T, but may be M

Pairings: OC/Reader, Eobard/Reader

A/N: First attempt at a reader-insert fic. Special thanks to @darlingpetao3 @yetanotherwells @wellsaddict and @hawk-lee for listening to me freak out about this, inspiring me, and giving me the courage to actually post it. I hope it's interesting and fun for you to read.

This is Mattobard's version of Thawne, since it takes place during his teenage years.

This fic was inspired by this song (which is the featured waltz in the story). 'Pride and Penance', from World of Warcraft: Shadowlands.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cZtBflZHIcQ

_________________________________________________________

The moment you step into the darkened dance hall, you feel as though you have been transported back in time. In fact, you can’t help but wonder if the organizers of this year’s spring formal are utilizing some of Rip Hunter’s famous Time Couriers to literally open a door to the past. Everything around is, at minimum, dated back a hundred years ago, from the DJ setting up digital playlists to the black-light-illuminated chairs seated around tables littered with drinks, plates of food, and what looks like games. The music right now is from the early 2000s, but you expect the songs to range through decades, possibly even centuries over the course of the night. Multicolored lights hang from the ceiling, giving the place an overall ‘club’ look, accentuated by the powerful underlighting at the bar.

The temperature increases as you enter on your date’s arm, the exertion from the dancing and milling bodies heating up the air in the room. The dance started only thirty minutes ago, but the excitement in the room is palpable, and kids are wasting no time yelling ‘hellos’ and ‘how are yous’ as they toss back nonalcoholic drinks. One table is already full of kids engaged in what looks like an intense card game with multicolored discs sprayed across the table in front of them.

Catching the fever of the room, you cast a huge grin up at your date, a handsome young man you’ve known since grade school. The two of you are dressed perhaps a little fancy for the event, with him in a fine, high-collared suit befitting a 20th century aristocrat and you in a deep red 1940s princess ballgown. Overdressing is okay: the two of you were expecting a slightly more ‘ballroom’ shindig, not this ‘21st century club’ event, and upon looking around you can see that other members of your class had similar ideas, wearing everything from 1800s Victorian gowns to military uniforms.

“They did a good job,” your date says. “Though one would think they could have come up with a more original theme name than ‘Blast to the Past’.”

“Don’t cheesy titles comprise part of the charm of last century?” you ask as the two of you move towards the obligatory picture arena. “Wasn’t stating the obvious considered not only funny, but…what was the word…a meemee?”

“Meme. One word, one syllable. And yes. Memes were a rather popular form of communication in the early 21st century, though I guess they started well before that.” Your date eyes the line and the picture-taking arena before them. “Is that….a phone booth?”

You are both intrigued as you watch a couple go into the booth, pulling a curtain shut and separating them from the outside world. Their feet are obvious as they scrabble into various positions, each one punctuated by a bright flash ands lots of giggling. The couple emerges, looking flushed and full of smiles, and watch as two thin strips of plastic emerged from the wall of the booth. The two grab the plastic strips and look at them, giggling as they walk away.

“It’s a photo booth.”

The voice right beside you and your date startles you, and you quickly look over to see one of the chaperones for the event, Ms. Steinway, a few feet away. The young teacher looks stunning in a green floor-length gown, her blonde hair floating ethereally around her shoulders. She gestures. “You go in, and you have five pictures taken of you in quick succession. There’s usually only three to four seconds between each photo so people often planned ahead what they would do ahead of time. You can make faces, or be serious…whatever you would like!”

“Thank you, Ms. Steinway,” you say before looking back to your date. “Well. I guess we have about a minute to come up with five different poses.”

“Why don’t we improvise? We’re both good thinkers on our feet.”

The tension and pressure of racing to beat a timed photo session is appealing to you, probably a side effect of all the time you've been spending lately with your other friend, Eobard Thawne. He has a strong taste for competition and it’s been rubbing off on you in the years you’ve known him.

The sudden thought of Thawne makes you skim the room, wondering if the class loner has actually shown up to tonight’s dance. You’re pretty sure he’s not here; this isn’t his type of thing at all. It’s certainly why you didn’t ask him to be your date. It’s also the only reason why you didn’t ask him to be your date. Eobard Thawne’s proud, handsome figure and strikingly keen intellect has drawn many a girl’s attention over the years, including yours, and you’ve made a concentrated effort to ignore it. But lately, you’ve noticed that he seems to be hovering near you much more often. And he got into a fistfight with your date a few weeks ago…you never did quite figure out what had caused that argument…

Seeing him here tonight would definitely open a lot of doors, however. Perhaps you would be brave enough to ask him for a single dance. He can be a truly arrogant ass but he has always been at least civil to you…probably because the two of you have also known each other since grade school.

Your date pushes you forward and you realize that, as usual, thoughts of Eobard have distracted you for several seconds. It is your turn in the photo booth.

The booth is small and simple, with a little touch screen that simply says ‘go’. A quick glance over the screen shows that presets are in place, with no way to change them. It is a little aggravating to not be able to customize the photos but you suppose that’s to get the line of kids moving quickly. With a quick glance at your date, the two of you reach out and tap the ‘go’ button together.

The very first thing he does is kiss you. It’s so fast and so intense that you don’t even have time to react. Suddenly his mouth is open and wet and moving on yours and his hand is in your carefully-crafted hairstyle and you are shocked beyond words because of all the poses you had considered in this run of pictures, your longtime friend kissing you was not one of them. You’ve suspected he felt this way about you and there was no doubt in your mind that he would be an excellent romantic partner, but you hadn’t really…thought about him like that. In fact, the only person you really thought about like that was…Eobard.

He finally pulls back and looks quickly at the camera, grinning widely. Your brain is fuzzed and rolling with several unfinished sentences and questions, but some little part of you keeps control and turns to smile bright and beautiful at the screen. The two of you make silly faces next, and as you are setting up for what you think is the next picture, the screen goes dark. You realize in shock that he used three of the five pictures to kiss you. Feeling frustrated and cheated, you get out of the booth, pasting a smile on your face so as not to appear angry to the line of kids waiting outside. You’ll have plenty of time to discuss his choices later.

The pictures print out and they’re definitely difficult to look at. The first one shows your obvious surprise, but the second two are worse, showcasing your desperate attempt to keep control of what is happening by grabbing at his face and responding to his kiss. It was not your best decision, but you feel like it was your only choice at the moment – and that realization makes you furious.

The two of you head to an unoccupied table, and the moment you set down the photos you whirl on your date, your insides twisted in knots and your throat almost sealed shut from the force of your anger. “What the hell?”

“What?”

It’s even hotter in this room with your anger charging you up. You are pretty sure your face is the color of your dress. “You kissed me.”

He smiles. “Of course I did. What did you think we were going to do in there?”

Your mouth drops open. “Make faces and smile! When did kissing appear on the list of things to do tonight?”

His brow furrows. “When you agreed to be my date. Come now, you can’t possibly miss all the signs I’ve given you. You know me better than that.”

His self-entitled arrogance sets your teeth on edge and you clutch the table so hard you’re amazed it doesn’t bend. “I’ve known you for almost all of my life and you have never been so rude as to just kiss someone without making sure it’s all right with them! You wait for that kind of invitation! You don’t blindside her during a timed picture taking session!”

“Spontaneity has never been your thing, and I respect that,” he begins to say.

You cut him off. “Clearly not or these wouldn’t exist!” You wave the pictures at him before slamming them down onto the table. You don’t know what you’re angrier about now; being forced into this situation before you felt ready, his seeming blindness to how the whole situation played out, or the fact that you feel like what should have been a beautiful moment is ruined and you are never going to get it back.

A waltz begins to play, the very song the two of you were hoping would be the focus of the evening, and he reaches a hand out to you. “You’re right. I made a terrible mistake. I thought it would be fun and I assumed you would be all right with it. I am sorry. I truly am. We will go have the pictures retaken. But will you dance with me? This sounds like a beautiful waltz and I don’t want to have ruined the night by making a terrible decision right at the beginning.”

He sounds sincere but you don’t answer him at first. Your mind is still awash with anger and betrayal and a sudden desire to be anywhere but in this room right now. You don’t want to just forgive him for doing this to you. But you also don’t want the night to be ruined, and right now the song playing sounds like it could be a wonderful dance and you aren’t sure how many more will be played with the selection of music likely being offered. Reluctantly, you slip your hand into his.

“We aren’t done with this conversation,” you state firmly.

“Of course not.” He twirls you gently. “But this song fits you and I want to see you dancing to it.”

You don’t know the name of the song, but it has a haunting melody to it, almost ghostlike with sliding violins. Waltzes always have a kind of built-in grace to them, a slippery seduction meant to make it easy to move to. But this piece has an additionally dramatic vocalist that elevates the rhythm to something royal and aristocratic. You can almost imagine the two of you (and the couples that are joining you on the floor) dancing in the hall of an ancient, grand mansion while a dark storm swirls outside the floor-to-ceiling windows and the dry fingers of tree branches curl menacingly in shadows on the floor, trapping the dancers’ feet in their grip.

“Pardon me.”

The familiar voice snaps you out of the daydream you are drifting into, and you rock slowly back and forth in your date’s arms as you realize Eobard is standing in front of you two. Your breath catches and your heart rate picks up instantly as you look at him. He looks as though he has stepped straight out of your daydream: a young lord trapped in a dying manor, cloaked in high-collared black and red with the light shimmering blindingly on his short blond hair. Even more shocking is the dramatic flair he has added to the outfit: a full-length black cape fastened at his neck with a ruby. He is too beautiful to touch and yet your hands…and other, sweeter, deeper parts of you…ache as you stare at him.

His eyes sweep over you and you think you see his jaw clench slightly before he speaks again. “May I cut in?”

“You’re in our way, Bardo,” your date growls, all softness and politeness gone from his voice.

“I wasn’t addressing you,” Eobard responds to him but doesn’t take his eyes off of you. Your throat is growing dry from the simple intensity of his gaze. “I was addressing your partner." He nods to you. "May I cut in?”

You finally register what he is asking, and the thrill that races through you makes you shiver. You had thought you might have the courage to ask him to dance if you had seen him here, but him asking you is completely unexpected. Saying no to him might prevent him from asking again, but saying yes would probably send the wrong message to your date.

Then again, your date certainly sent you the wrong message when he forced you to kiss him in the photo booth.

It’s a very simple question with a very simple answer.

“I would be honored,” you reply, trying to sound as cool and proper as possible. As you pull away from your date, you feel his hands clench briefly on you. You quickly look up at him, seeing the betrayal in his eyes. At first you feel smug, but then you remind yourself that he did apologize. You give him your best comforting smile. “We’ll continue this later,” you say to him, making his expression soften just a little. But the look he gives Eobard is poisonous.

Eobard’s expression doesn’t change. Instead, he unfastens the cape from around his neck and whips it dramatically off, draping it unceremoniously on your date’s still-outstretched arms. “Would you be so kind as to place this on a nearby chair?”

Redness floods your date’s face, and you start to open your mouth to scold Eobard for his rudeness, but his hands grip you firmly and he spins you away into the dancing crowd before you can say a word. Your feet scrabble as you try to keep up, and you have a feeling he’s trying to get you as far away from your date as fast as possible. Focusing on your movements, you catch his rhythm and begin to move in time with him, gaining control over yourself while still permitting him to lead. You’re angry enough now that you’re tempted to just walk out the door after this dance. When did your two best friends turn into such boys? They’re acting like you’re a prize in a competition and while that might be flattering, it’s making you feel a bit like an object and not like the lady you want to be tonight.

“You dance well,” Eobard compliments.

You roll your eyes. “You dragged me out here and I just got my balance back. Don’t patronize me.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” he answers. “I mean what I say. I saw you trying to dance with your date over there. He was trying. You were succeeding.”

You snort and sigh. “I wish the two of you would tell me why you both seem to have lost your minds lately.”

Eobard tilts his head. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Your heart pounds and you know what you hope the answer is, but coming right out and saying it feels like a such a terrible risk. Eobard’s emotional difficulties make him dangerous sometimes, the wrong word or look pushing him away for days at a time. You are not going to ruin this night, this dance, this moment that has been playing in your dreams.

“Obviously not, or I wouldn’t have brought it up,” you say, trying to put an innocent look on your face. You aren’t sure if it works or not, but the hard look in Eobard’s eyes softens somewhat, and he guides you around the floor. Looking up at him, you surrender your mind to the daydream, milking this moment for all it is worth. The seductive waltz paints the image of a great hall, decadent in its decay, the memory of opulence just as romantic as the opulence itself. And Eobard, cold and proud and throat-achingly beautiful, spins you around it, commanding your body with his touch, and commanding your mind with his eyes.

“Your friend and I,” he says in a low voice, “are both seeking your approval.”

Dear God, he actually said it. You’re almost dizzy with excitement as you frantically think of how to navigate the next few sentences. Honesty is going to be key. “You have a funny way of showing it. First that fistfight a few weeks ago and now tonight he just kisses me out of the blue and then you drag me off like I belong to you or something…”

“He did what?” Eobard stops the two of you cold, and you blink, looking up at his grey eyes, watching in surprise as they turn stormy and dark. His pale face begins to flush as he gazes down at you. You can’t tell if what you’re seeing is anger or not, but as his eyebrows draw together you feel your insides flutter. It’s more than just anger. It’s jealousy.

Eobard is jealous.

The realization makes your throat close and you swallow several times as adrenaline floods your veins. The possibilities open up in your mind, and you suddenly realize that while both men are, in fact, treating you like a prize, you are still the one in control.

“He kissed me for our photo,” you say carefully, letting the frustration and hurt show on your face. “I didn’t know he was going to.”

Eobard looks at you, his jaw clenching and unclenching, and his face continuing to grow red. His hands tighten on your waist and hand, and a strange excitement blooms in your chest. Eobard Thawne, so aloof and elitist, suffering from the simple emotion of jealousy. And jealousy related to you, because he’s seeking your approval. Despite the heat of the moment, you find yourself fighting a smile.

“Did you enjoy it?” he asks tightly.

You know the truth and you know what saying it will mean. But right now, you are unable to lie to him, captivated by the thrill of his reaction and the intoxicating crescendo building around you.

“No.”

Eobard’s chin lifts and a smug satisfaction fills his eyes as the music crescendos loudly. With a climactic crash of drums, he decisively pushes you out into a firm spin, and then brings you back in, his hand slipping to the small of your back and holding you flush against his body. And for one fiery, fierce moment, you realize that you can feel him, dear God, all of him, pressed possessively against you, and a weakness makes your knees wobble and your mouth go dry as you stare into his eyes, only inches away, and realize what he is silently saying to you.

Then the two of you are moving again as he takes everything up another notch, whirling you both within the crowd as though you have all the space in the world. The music pounds with your steps, pulsing inside of you, the melody a full-throated cry from the whole orchestra, igniting adrenaline and fire within you. Your mouth falls open to gasp for air as your eyes drift closed. You don’t need to see, only to feel the clutch of his hands and the heat of his body and the light pressure on your waist as he leads you.

And then, in one powerful beat, the music stops. Eobard pushes you backwards into a dramatic dip, holding you up while your hands claw at him. You can’t see the ecstasy on your face but a few gasps from the people around you suggest that the two of you may be in a very compromising position. You don’t care. Your body is shaking and tingling. You feel sweat dampening your skin, and the heat…you’re drowning in it. But you don’t want to move. You don’t want it to be over. Most of all, you don’t want his hands leaving you. Ever.

Your breath comes in heavy gasps as he draws you up to your feet. He steadies you, and your eyes finally drift open. The sight before you makes you shiver again. Eobard is breathing just as hard as you are, and has the same slightly dazed expression on his face that you are feeling. You vaguely realize that while you were trying to keep your balance you gripped his hair and shirt because both of them are bunched and mussed. But neither of you can look away from the other for several seconds.

Finally, he is the first one to move. He gently straightens his shirt and runs a hand through his hair. He brings his heels together and reaches for your hand. He bows, lifting your hand to his lips and placing a chaste kiss on the back of it.

“Thank you,” he says, “for the lovely dance. If you’ll excuse me, I believe I need some air.”

You nod slowly. “I…think I do too.”

Something sparks in his eyes, and he offers you his arm. You consider taking it, but the sensation that sweeps through you as you realize what the implications are stop you. You are awash in powerful emotions now, enough to know that if you go with him, you’re going to do something you want…

….oh do you want….

….but on impulse, caught up in the moment.

You know you need to gather yourself. The night has only just begun.

“I will see you back in here,” you reply, offering a polite curtsey. It isn’t a blatant rejection, just more of a ‘not now’. Eobard seems to understand and his withdraws his hand before turning and striding for the door.

You head for a different exit, catching a glimpse of your date just as you leave the room. His face is a thunderstorm, and you feel a slight chill that cuts through the hazy fog of your mind.

The night has only just begun, and you have a feeling it’s going to be a long one.

[angelicamerlinbarnes]

Albus Dumbledore being an awesome teacher and human being

Bubblegum Bitch - MARINA

(Imma be honest with y’all, it’s mostly just him being a crackhead.)

He tells stories about Grindelwald, about their marriage and their beliefs and their lives together. All of the stories have lessons - sure, a lot of those lessons are about how NOT to make pasta, but they’re still lessons!

He likes to matchmake students using seating charts and certain magical spell assignments. He’s very good at it. I mean, he’s shit at figuring out who likes each other, but he is great at meddling, so Mcgonogall tells him who to mess with and he does as he’s told. They make a great team (and are invited to a lot of weddings). Couples they’ve helped include but are not limited to: Dean and Seamus, Luna and Ginny, Hermione and Harry and Ron, Sirius and Remus, Peter and Maxwell Needles, Peter and Regulus (that was later), Lily and Severus and James, Fred and Lee plus George and Lee, Charlie and Newt (queerplatonic), Leta and Newt (queerplatonic), Harry and Luna (queerplatonic), and Sirius and James and Remus (queerplatonic). They’ve been very busy.

He and Mcgonogall have teatime almost every day. They talk about their students and work on their matchmaking plans. There’s a lot of sass and deadpanning involved. Sometimes they invite Remus, Sirius, and James. (Not Peter. He doesn’t need the same level of torturing that they do.) Bubbles of all shapes and sizes and colors float around the room the whole time. It’s fantastic.

He accepts gossip in exchange for extra credit. He’s a really good secret keeper too, so a lot of students go for it. (It hasn’t broken any friendships. There’s an understanding among the student population that Dumbledore is like Ms. Potts from that Muggle film Beauty and the Beast - well-meaning and trustworthy, but terribly, terribly bored.)

Everything in his classroom is pink. And glittery. And covered in sequins. Once a student asked him why and he just smirked for a solid minute before whispering, “Lemonade.” (As if that makes any fucking sense.)

He once taught class in a full-fledged glittery ballgown that faded from light pink to deep purple. He did not once acknowledge it or act like anything was out of the ordinary. One student raised their hand and asked timidly, “Professor? Why are you wearing a ballgown?” And his brow furrowed as he frowned, looked down at himself, and muttered, “Thought it was a bathrobe.” (Harry does not let him live this one down. His dad is not much help - Severus took many, many pictures.) (Not that it mattered. On Wednesdays Dumbledore wears pink (glittery ballgowns).)

He speaks to kids who have parents, friends, and relatives in prison, whether for being Death Eaters or otherwise. He chaperones visits to Azkaban for them so they can see their loved ones. He casts protective and invisibility charms on them so only the one they’re visiting can see or hear them, and he teaches them Patronuses (with Remus’ help, of course). He often spends these visits on the other side of Grindelwald’s bars, playing wizard’s chess against him. (Sometimes Grindelwald gives him flowers. It always makes Dumbledore smile. There may be no one left in the world who understands why they love each other, but they don’t need to understand it for it to be true.)

He stands at the front of the classroom and makes funny faces during tests and waits to see how long it takes for a student to look up. His latest record is seven minutes.

When he’s teaching Grindelwald’s history, he makes snarky comments about his husband. They range from “I mean really. Who the fuck thought wizards ruling Muggles was a good idea?” (Rest in peace that one student who thought it was a good idea to say, “You did, Professor.”) to “Honestly, that man has no concept of romance. I ask him for a nice night out and he takes me to a Muggle rally about witchcraft and tries to impress me by playing practical magical jokes on the speaker. A toddler could do that.” (He often gets mushy during those stories though, usually trailing off like “But that time he took me to my childhood home for my birthday was sweet… brought me flowers for Ariana’s grave and everything. Sure, he killed her, but… he has a sweet side…” and from there on out he’s basically a lost cause and you might as well go to your next class because he’s not going to stop humming that fucking Elvis song).

He “loses” his glasses all the time by casting an invisibility charm on them and forces his students to search the classroom for them when they’re on his face the whole time. He thinks it’s funny. Harry does not. (But Severus and Mcgonogall do, and that’s really what matters.) (Severus and Mcgonogall and Dumbledore are  a fantastic trio full of snark and sarcasm and shit, I have just decided.)

He makes little animals out of multi-colored magical dust and they fly around the classroom and perch on his favorite students’ heads. Once a dragon fell asleep on Newt’s head and wouldn’t leave even when class was over. Newt had to wait for the magic to wear off so it would disintegrate. (Of course, he had named it by that point and had a meltdown when it disappeared, so Dumbledore recreates the dragon (Robert) every class and just lets Newt coo at it, even during tests.)

He conjured and charmed two giant (I mean Egypt half-animal half-man guard statue size giant) fluffy pink teddy bears that are alive and stand on either side of him like bodyguards during class. A Slytherin student punched one in the stomach once and it vomited enough M&Ms over their head to completely bury them. The student’s partner, a Ravenclaw student, punched the other one in an ill-advised burst of illogical thought and received the same treatment, but in Skittles. (Luckily their Gryffindor aro-ace friend and nonbinary Hufflepuff friend stayed after class and ate until they could move again. Safe to say no one has dared punch the bears again.) (Though I hear they do give very good hugs. And they eat homework if you ask nicely enough!)

He has a bunch of cloaks that act as portals to realms like Merlin’s Celestiums (S.G.E., Soman Chainani). He gives one to each student for tests, and they are transported to their ideal test-taking environments, complete with whatever song they feel like listening to at any given minute playing all around them. Unsurprisingly, his students have the best grades in all of Hogwarts. (He also has a secret cloak that he uses for himself, to see Grindelwald. Grindelwald has his own matching one so he can always make it home for Thursday date night.) (They have been caught. Of course they have. But no one is going to challenge Dumbledore for his right to see his husband, even if he did marry a murderer.) (Sirius and Remus used to steal the cloak for their own dates. And later on James would steal it to take the two of them on friend-dates. Inspired by that, Dumbledore made a special cloak for Mcgonogall that he gifted her on her fiftieth birthday. The smile she gave him then is his favorite of all time.)

He bickers with Fawkes constantly. This often evolves into full-fledged screaming matches with spastic hand gestures, gratuitous spit, and angry hops on both sides. Once Dumbledore drew wand on his “useless babbling bastard of a bird”. No one has bothered to tell Dumbledore that Fawkes probably can’t understand a word of their arguments. (They do evacuate the classroom when these fights start though. The last time they stayed their hair was gone for a week, and when it grew back it was glittery and pink.) (Harry looked especially fantastic. Sirius thought he looked great. He laughed until he was in tears. Harry was not amused.) (Remus was.)

Sometimes he’s absent from class and Mcgonogall teaches them instead. When asked if he’s alright, Mcgonogall simply answers, “My partner is away on personal business for the day. Now, turn to page -” Soon enough people figured out that “personal business” meant “conjugal visit with Genocidal Maniac Husband™ in prison”. They stopped asking.

He gives all of his students the red button test (without knowing what it does, do you press the red button?). Those who pass get automatic A’s and a lollipop. Those who fail get a talking pet pygmy puff. The thing that usually trips people up is that Dumbledore considers the “correct” answer to be pressing the goddamn button. (Seamus is the only one who has ever passed (enthusiastically too!). Newt half-passed because Niffy the Niffler sat on it.) (Sirius and James would have passed too if they had not been the life partners of one Remus Lupin, whose creativity with threats and extensive curse-word vocabulary rivaled Mcgonogall’s even at the tender age of fifteen.)

He has floating war maps just lying around. He plays battleship with his students on them. What he neglects to tell them is that their moves have actual consequences in the world, as the maps are magical and reflect real battles and places. When Harry finds out (he blew up Denmark, completely unawares) he shows up at Dumbledore’s door soaking wet at five-thirty in the morning with a newspaper, his fists clenched, his face red, and his chest heaving. He wouldn’t stop glaring for weeks. (Alas, Dumbledore’s glorious beard has great resistance to fire spells.) (Following an incident involving the original four Marauders in their third year. Shhh… we do not speak of that.)

He has a habit of walking into random classrooms, gesturing for a student to come with him with his finger, and then taking them to his office for teatime. He usually asks them inane questions about a specific theme (fish, pasta strainers, socks, throw pillows, mooses, etc.) for hours until finally dismissing them. It drives Mcgonogall crazy. (She’s yelled at him plenty for “kidnapping students to ask them questions you know you could easily find on that Muggle infer-het thing! They have exams, Albus -” but he just smiles at her while calmly sipping his tea and she always ends up collapsing in the chair across from him with a sigh, taking the tea from his hands and chugging it before wiping her mouth, slamming it down on the desk, and asking, “So. Fish. What’s up with them?” and Albus just beams.)

He spends half of his class lessons babbling on about how Merlin was gay for Arthur and Arthur was gay for Merlin, but not in long tangents. Just a bunch of random comments without context, warning, or explanation. (He mentions “poetry” a lot and waggles his eyebrows for some reason, so… what’s up with that? (Merlin BBC))

He overshares A LOT about his and Grindelwald’s lives. It’s a problem because 90% of the time it’s something sweet or innocent like “Oh, he brought me a tiger lily that bloomed open to show a gold and ruby ring nestled inside on our first anniversary. That’s how he proposed to me” and “He used to hum while he did the housework, you know? He’d stand in the middle of the house and close his eyes and just hum. Almost entire symphonies too, just waving his wand in the air like a conductor” to “This one time in bed he…” and there is NO warning. The amount of things these poor children’s ears have had to endure… (*shakes head in mock disappointment*)

He often cooks during class using wandless magic. The pots and pans heat themselves and float around in the air. Sometimes Dumbledore dances and then they start dancing too. He whistles and creates a base beat for the sizzling, popping, clanging, and other kitchen noises to follow. This usually happens during tests. Oh joy.

He leaves the windows open when it rains, but somehow nothing ever gets wet. Harry and Hermione have a theory that it’s protection charms. (Really it’s a spell Severus made up when he was drunk because he was angry that umbrellas don’t have enough room under them for three, and he’s always been the most self-sacrificial person in his marriage.)

He regularly makes bets with Mcgonogall about the students’ love lives. Not money, but little things the other doesn’t want to do or buy. Dumbledore usually has to handle the Marauders’ detentions or give up one of his teddy bear guards for Mcgonogall’s experimental enjoyments. Mcgonogall has to do something embarrassing or let him borrow one of her glittery hats. They should really stop making bets at this point; the stakes and the winners are dreadfully predictable. He always wins when the bet is on a student’s sexuality or gender and she always wins when the bet is on who a student will end up with. Nonetheless, the bets continue. So too does their grumbling amusement.

He figured out how to make a broom invisible when he and Grindelwald first fell in love, so they could be showy with each other at their Greater Good rallies. They later used it for dates, prison breaks, and daring escapes complete with kisses under the moon. Once Grindelwald went to Azkaban, Dumbledore used it to find some privacy where he could grieve. Now, he uses it to travel around his classroom and Hogwarts and trick everyone into thinking he can fly by sheer will. Only Mcgonogall knows his secret. (And Severus, but Dumbledore doesn’t know that because he told him when he was black out drunk. So.)

He lets pygmy puffs sleep in his beard. Sorry, I don’t make the rules.

He once taught class while teetering on his feet because he had somehow gotten himself tangled in Christmas lights from shoulders to ankles and couldn’t move. (Sirius wandered in and saw this, cried he was laughing so hard, and then warbled his off-key way through as many Christmas carols as he could remember for the rest of class.) (Dumbledore tried to Silencio him but just fell over trying to make the wand movement. He broke his nose. Sirius almost had a panic attack because he couldn’t breathe from how hard he was laughing. By the end of this he had curled up in a fetal position on the floor, Remus was lying down next to him and muttering jokes to him, Mcgonogall was trying to fix Dumbledore’s face, and Severus had taken over the class. Not that they got much done - James was visiting that day. And him, Sirius, and Remus all laughing about the same thing rarely leads to a quiet and calm learning environment.) (They gave him a joint present of rainbow Christmas lights for his birthday - “Happy Gay Day, Professor!” - and he was not amused.) (Grindelwald was though. So was everyone else.)

He tends to mix up holidays in his head and often decorates for the wrong one. He goes all out too. He’s kind of a disaster, and so is his classroom. It became such a problem that the Marauders actually took pity on him and made him a very big calendar with all the holidays marked on it in glitter and fake jewels and flowers. It sits behind his desk and occasionally works.) (Occasionally.)

He’s queerplatonic partners with Mcgonogall. They held a friend-wedding and forced Severus to be the flowergirl. Harry officiated, Remus was Dumbledore’s best man, Sirius was Mcgonogall’s, James wasn’t given a job cause he was crying too much, Lily was in charge of taking care of James, and Peter was the ring bearer (he only lost them TWICE and they were ring pops anyway). Mcgonogall screeches at him a lot and Dumbledore can be depressive and neglectful because he misses Grindelwald but they love each other so it works. (And they’re the prime source of advice for James, Sirius, and Remus regarding their own queerplatonic relationship, for better or for worse.)

He puts his feet up on the desk even though it’s bad for his knees. Mcgonogall told him it’s bad for his knees and he has stubbornly put them up there every class since. (His knees are killing him but he will not give in to “a paranoid, batty old witch who doesn’t know shit about what’s good for me and wouldn’t if she was hit with an Imperio and I told her -” “I’M YOUR FUCKING PARTNER, YOU BLASPHEMOUS ARROGANT BRAT OF AN OLD FART!”)

Instead of walking around his classroom, he struts. (Yes, it worsens his knees.) He does strike poses, he does make obnoxious expressions, and he does look fabulous. WORK! (Yes, that was a Hamilton reference.)

He once taught class without a  face because Mcgonogall cursed him for “fucking up the alphabetical organization of my tea, you old twit. Honestly, Albus, it’s not that hard”. (How did he teach without a mouth, you ask? Easy, he used intermediate BSL (deaf students, plus Azkaban isn’t great on old men’s ears and he and Grindelwald are both gettin’ up there) and Sirius interpreted.) (Incredibly wrongly, crudely, and foul-mouth-ly, but nonetheless he interpreted.)

He has difficulty understanding the straight people in his class. He is fully accepting of everyone and wants the best for all of them, but when it comes to relationship advice, he’s shit.

Excerpt pulled from Pensieve of a conversation he had with a student who identified as female:

Dumbledore: “So your boyfriend is a dick, is what you’re saying?”

Student’s best friend: “Yes. Merlin, he’s such a dick. Would you believe he -”

Dumbledore: *looks at student and points to her best friend* “Why don’t you just date her?”

*cue red faces and sputtering*

(They did not take his advice.)

He wears bowties ALL THE TIME. If he’s not wearing a bowtie, there are bows in his hair and tying the ends of his beard together. Once he wore pigtails. It was great.

He has a habit of bursting into song randomly and performing full-blown Broadway musical numbers (yes, he can rap Guns and Ships at full speed). This usually involves all of the complex moves to be expected in a musical - dramatically climbing up the stairs while looking forlorn, leaping onto the desk and squatting as you launch into a whispered limerick, speedy costume changes - you know, the works. Sometimes Sirius and James back him up, if they’re there. Severus will take over teaching with a bored look on his face (“What are you looking at, Harry?” “Dad, there’s -” “I don’t see anything interesting happening, Harry.” *glares*) while Mcgonogall screeches at Dumbledore to “GET THE FUCK DOWN, YOU NARCISSISTIC HEATHEN!” It’s a problem.

When the Marauders challenge the dress code, Dumbledore is the first Professor to encourage it. While Sirius is perfectly confident in a skirt and Regulus isn’t far behind (neither is Severus, surprisingly), James and Remus are far more insecure. Dumbledore wears a tutu to class one day to show his support, and Remus wouldn’t stop smiling the rest of the day. (James just turned bright red and beamed when Sirius started laughing.) He also backed Lily up when she wore pants (along with Marlene, Dorcas, and Mary) by convincing Mcgonogall to wear pantsuits for a week. (Sirius, despite being a hardcore gay, was quite affected by this. Remus did not appreciate the water spit in his face and refused to kiss Sirius for a week.)

He plays Cecily Smith (Will Connolly) on the ukulele on late nights and stares out at the stars thinking of Grindelwald. Sometimes he forgets to turn off the Sonorus from earlier that day and ends up broadcasting his little song to the whole school. Sirius and Remus will dance to it in the common room while James watches his partners with a happy smile on his face (and Peter sleeps, because he’s tired and doesn’t force himself to stay up simply for the purpose of being cool or finishing that one assignment that isn’t due for another two weeks) (I’m sorry, do you feel called out?).

This man has weed brownies stashed away in his desk and he does eat them during class. He also offered one to Remus once, who is the only student that knows about the stash and tends to use marijuana for medical purposes (helping with anxiety and pain regarding the full moon, courtesy of my beautiful girlfriend who has never read nor seen Harry Potter but nonetheless insists to me that Remus Lupin is a stoner who wears red beanies). This prompted Sirius to ask for one, which Dumbledore refused, but then James joined in and they started a riot by standing on their desks and pumping their fists in the air and screaming, “BROWNIES FOR ALL!” while Remus giggled into his hand and was no help at all, so Dumbledore gave them each a brownie just to shut them up. (Sirius wouldn’t stop rambling about how pretty Remus’ eyes were, James was babbling on about unicorns, Severus was hissing at something no one else could see, Regulus was hissing at the same thing for some reason, Peter was crying because he couldn’t tell the difference between hamsters and gerbils and guinea pigs, and Lily was muttering pi under her breath until she fell asleep.) (Mcgonogall was unimpressed.) (No teatime for eight weeks. Damn.)

Dumbledore cares about all of his students, however little he shows it. He wants them to lead a better life than he did. And maybe fall in love with better people than he did.

[octupus-on-the-moon]

A table

~It's been done *laughs in Dr. Frankenstein*. After a lot of sweat, cursing and repeatedly flipping of my laptop and tablet. A new part of a nightmare is ready. It's a bit longer because of my absence and I hope I can keep my motivation up~

《 Previous - Masterlist - Next 》

Ninth part of nightmare

Word count: 1,814

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Warning: Non I guess. Just some fluff and a burned gratine.

Bucky opened the door, awaiting the cold, baldness of the walls. To end up being surprised by the green he saw everywhere.

He totally forgot the little plants, y/n bought for him. They really made a difference. A welcome one. His clenched jaw and frowned eyebrows disappeared.

After taking of his jacket, he took an empty glass and went around pouring some water in all the colorful pots. He cursed under his breath, after he spilled some water for the second time. Mentally making a note to buy a watering can. Without noticing that his dark thoughts lifted and the silence around him was a welcome one, rather than a threatening menace.

Barnes looked at his wristwatch. It was still over an hour, till y/n would come back from college. He felt a sting of joy in his stomach.

That was new, Bucky wondered. It was probably just the excitement of finally having something to look forward to, instead of enduring one day after the other with the same maddening routine.

In the meanwhile, he could be useful and cook lunch. Y/n would be hungry after college and he had promised to cook the next time. Bucky looked in the fridge and cupboards. Potatoes, cheese and bacon. Exactly what he needed

Y/n had 30 minutes of lecture left, till she was free. She really wanted to go back to her little room in James’s apartment after the first class, but Monday was full of important courses, so she somehow managed to convince herself to stay.

The short call with James lifted her spirits considerably. It was his stoic way of talking, as soon as she showed a bit of interest in him, that made her feel warm inside. Her thoughts wandered off. To him. To the unpleasant night and how she finally saw the scared child he was. But then they went off to his blue eyes and the little crinkles around them when he frowned.

He must have been quite a look back in the forties.

Of course she had seen the photos in the Smithsonian, but she pictured him in a classier way. With a fitted suit and a fedora hat, walking down the street stealing hearts. Maybe a girl at his side and his eyes constantly lingering around her, as if she were the whole world and more. At the thought of it, y/n caught herself picturing a girl just like her, beside his tall figure.

That made her stop and turn back to reality. It was not a good sign. Or maybe it was. It felt like forever, since she let someone into her life and James was pretty much the last person she would have thought of. But she also did not expect her father being a criminal and her whole existence a facade.

Life was full of twists and turns lately. Some good, some bad. Maybe it was time to let something good happen.

“Ms. y/l/n, could you resume the discussed topic?” The professors sharp tone ripped y/n out of her train of thought. This will be the longest 30 minutes of my life, she thought.

A quite knock on the door distracted Barnes from intensely starring at the oven. He decided himself for a simple potato gratin, that would hopefully suite y/n’s taste. With is heart beating a bit too fast he neared himself the door.

And there she was. Her hair a little mess. A bag casually hanging around her shoulder and a beam as bright as the sun itself.

“Will you let me in or just keep starring?” Her playful greeting made Bucky’s heart stumble and without wasting words he stepped aside. He made another mental note. His gaze is not to be trusted. “How was therapy?” she asked letting her bag slide to the floor entering the kitchen in on smooth motion “Who of you two bit off the other one´s head first?” It took Bucky moment to get out of his trance.

“I….. We…. It went good” Barnes cleared his throat closing the door behind him “But she got a little suspicious about me deciding to cooperate” Y/n was drinking a glass of water leaning against the counter and once again Bucky could not get his eyes off of her.

“I did not think about that. We should have done one thing at a time. But I guess it´s too late now. Oh! And it smells amazing” she replied signing over to the oven. The quick hand move, the way her voice floated in the air, that one fuzzy hair in her face, everything captured him. “I…” A sharp smell tingling his nose interrupted Barnes. It came from the hot oven in the middle of the kitchen. His concentration fully gathered again, let him act quickly, reaching over for a rug and rescuing his gratin in the last moment. The crust was now a bit darker than needed but it was still acceptable.

“It´s a burned potato gratin” Barnes darkly commented, placing the form in the center of the already ‘set up table’.

“Hey, don´t be so hard on yourself. It still looks amazing”

“I´m not being hard with myself, I´m blaming you. It wouldn´t have burned if you wouldn´t have distracted me” Bucky’s eyes were glimmering amused.

She gasped overly dramatic, laying one hand on her chest “Me?”

“Yes. You” He broke out into a smile, without wasting another thought he reached over to her, brushing that fuzzy string of hair out of her face. Y/n’s giggle stopped for a moment at the closeness between both, making place for a shy smile, her eyes searching the floor. Barnes retreaded himself, feeling a heavy stone inside his stomach, as he realized how intimate the gesture was.

She did not expect him coming so close, her heart was already fluttering and was about to explode at his touch. Then he moved away causing an emptiness inside her. The same emptiness she always felt since the day of the notification. It was the last time she felt truly fulfilled and at ease, she had dreams and goals. Then everything changed. Life suddenly was a landscape of grey. Every task dull and meaningless. Time passed. She soon enough noticed that the emptiness would stay and the grey would only flourish.

Then the nightmare happened. And the already grey landscape had now even dark shadows to be afraid of.

James moved away to cut and serve the gratin. Giving her a little time to calm down her heart beat and ‘take a seat’ on the kitchen counter. After another heartbeat of discreetly observing Bucky serve the plates, y/n decided to break the silence “James”

He looked up with a shy grin “Yes?”

“We really need to get you a table”

….

“Is it really necessary?” Bucky and y/n were standing in front of the furniture store. Bucky incredulously, Y/n exited.

“Well at least I am not going to keep eating on the floor and, or the counter. My back is literally hurting from eating the gratin”

“Yes, it’s true. But. I…” Barnes closed and opened his fists a few times weighting his options “Okey. I guess we can take a look around” She nodded enthusiastically leading the way into the shop, James sighted heavily and followed.

The store was more or less deserted, which relieved Barnes. He didn´t like being in a already overwhelmingly filled hall with an ever more overwhelming count of people in it. The exit routs were explicitly signed which calmed his anxiety a bit more.

The most urgent thing for y/n was definitely the table, which led them to the dinning room section.

“I feel like a mafia boss” Y/n declared sitting down on the front side of a heavy wooden table. The chair, throne-like, up-holstered in a red velvet.

“Yes. A very scary mafia boss” Bucky jeered from the other side of the aisle.

“Hey! I can be scary if I want to”

“Jupp, as scary as a teddy”

She got up from the huge seat and walked over to him “Have you ever started into the cold dead eyes of a teddy bear?”

Bucky thought for an overly long moment “No, I haven´t. What about this one?”

“James. That’s a plastic table and it isn´t even a good quality one. In half a year, you will need to buy a new one” grabbing his arm she dragged him away “Come on these place is gigantic, we can find something better”

Yet, they didn´t. Every table y/n suggested was rejected by Bucky and vice versa. It was mostly to big, to small, to pompous, to dull, to much seats, to little seats and so on.

Both had almost reached the end of the section, when y/n suddenly dragged Bucky over to another exemplar. It´s design was simple, a glass top and a blond wooden frame with matching metal legs. Four chairs coated in a clear fabric rounded the dining set.

“This one. It´s the perfect size and I think I saw stools that would match, for the counter” Y/n sounded near desperate. Bucky took his time to look around the table. He was searching for something specific on it.

The price tag.

Y/n had picked out the most beautiful and practical tables, but the price was often more then exorbitantly high, which led Bucky to refuse all her suggestions. And the same happened with this one, it was by far the best table she had found today. It would look amazing between the plants, near the window, the chairs comfortable to sit on, in the early mornings to drink coffee and read the paper. It was a shame the table was out of Bucky`s scarce budget.

“I don´t know” Barnes commented “The chairs will get dirty pretty fast” Y/n´s face dropped.

She really didn´t expect it being so hard to satisfy Bucky´s furniture taste. Y/n thought that given Bucky´s cloth taste, he would have somewhat the same taste for furniture. Modern, comfy and in style with the room. Yet, every piece he had found acceptable was old styled, plastic or just straight out in a horrible color “You really liked that plastic table didn´t you?” She sighted.

For the break of a second Bucky frowned disgusted, then he nodded convincingly. But it was enough for her to know, what was keeping them from agreeing for a piece of furniture.

Cheap.

Every single table he elected was not because of its design, colour or material, it was because it was cheap. For a moment y/n felt bad. It was selfish of her not thinking that way, even though she truly believed that she didn´t have a rich complex, sometimes she did forget that not everyone had unlimited resources.

“Maybe it´s time for a little break. I think I saw a popcorn stand outside” Bucky’s conflicted face lit up a bit at her words.

All rights reserved.

《 Previous - Masterlist - Next 》

Tags: @ginger-swag-rapunzel

[vapid-slut]

A Dove Reborn; Ch.1

Warning[s]: Character death, Mentions of violence, murder, demonic possession [kinda, eh yea]

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: Reader, a catholic schoolgirl, is brought in as a sacrifice. It isn’t until she’s payed a visit in hell that she’s given a second chance at life and vengeance

A/N: This is my first michael fic so enjoy my shitty excuse for writing I’ve been think about writing this for awhile so I really you like it. Whoever you may be [this blog is a ghost town]. Also there may be some typos because it’s late and a bitch is lazy. xoxo, go piss girl

Darkness.

That's all you saw as your limp body dragged across what felt like wood. You cried out, hoping someone would have the heart to help you. Instead, they laughed at your naiveness. Before you could think any longer, a voice interrupted your thoughts. "This is y/n she has devoted her entire life to being a good little christian. Pathetic." The woman spoke with hatred in her voice as you heard others make noises of disapproval and disdain. Your breath was shaking, you knew there was little hope for you, they didn't care about you or your life, and why should they? After all, you were just a shy little girl whose own family sent her away to a convent to get rid of her.

The skin on your body crawled as you felt the burning stares of everyone gawking at your practically naked form. The woman continued to go on about how silly you were for choosing to believe in a god who couldn't even protect you now, her voice overlapping with your screams and pleas. "Well, let's not waste any more time. The honor of tonight's sacrifice shall go to one of our newest members, Jim." If you were uncertain of your fate before, this solidified it. Tonight was the night you were doing to die.

You pleaded for your life though it was ineffective, your body tensed as you felt a hand across your face remove a few stray hairs. Before you knew it, the blade held along your neck glided with ease, your eyes began to tear as you took what would be your last few breaths. There, on the floor, your once pure body laid lifeless, upper half drenched in your blood.

Eventually, the group of heinous worshippers dispersed, some going off to eat, others making their way home. All of them seemingly unbothered by the presence of your corpse. Having your body on display for everyone to see was truly humiliating. You were to be gawked at, mocked, and then forgotten. The story of your life, no one had ever taken you seriously. Your mother hated you the moment she birthed you. Your father never stayed long enough for you to remember him. With all the time you had spent laying there, your body began releasing a foul odor, making it clear that you had to go.

The blue-eyed boy towered over your figure, his head turning slightly to face the much shorter woman with hair like that of a raven. "What would you like me to do with her, Michael?" The woman named Ms.Mead asked with a calmness to her voice, almost as if she did this often. Michael sighed, letting his shoulders fall slightly. "It's such a shame she would've made a great pet." He paused, taking a breath. "Bury her or throw her in the river for all I care, whichever is easiest." He said sternly as the woman nodded, the blonde turned on his heels to exit the once full room. 

-----

You woke up from felt like an eternal sleep. Rubbing your eyes to look around the room, it all felt familiar. The soft lilac walls and crisply made bed, this was your home. Albeit one you hadn't seen in a long time. It had been almost seven years since your mother dropped you off at a convent. You observed the room with confusion, wondering why you were here.

Suddenly the door opened, revealing your strung-out mother. Your head tilted in confusion. "M-mom?" You reached to touch her, but out of nowhere, she raised the back of her hand to strike you across the face. You brought your hand to your cheek, eyes welling up with tears until suddenly she froze. 

Everything was happening so suddenly that you cowered in fear as another woman entered the room, dressed in white, she flashed you a smile. The girl reached to hold your hand, but you immediately flinched. "Don't worry. I'm not going to hurt you." She said, her voice soft and calming. You rubbed the tears away from your eyes and took hold of her warm hand. "Who are you. W-where am I?" The girl helped you to your feet. "My name is Mallory, right now you're in hell. But I'm here to take you back t-" Before she could finish, a dark figure walked in. "Ah, ah, ah. You don't get to break satans rules, my love."  The man appeared with strawberry blonde hair and green eyes.

"Asclepius, this isn't any of your concern," Mallory said, letting go of my hand as she inched closer to the man. "It is actually, I too have been tasked with bringing Y/N back to the mortal realm." You watched as the two bickered as if you weren't in their presence, tired of sitting around like a church mouse, you decided to speak up. "Okay, what the fuck are you talking about?!" The two turned to look at you, almost shocked that you had interrupted them. Asclepius sighed before stepping closer to you. "This might seem hard for you to comprehend, but you're dead. Your purity made you a viable sacrifice for satan." He paused for a moment, reading the confusion on your face. "This place is hell."

You scoffed, finding his comment ridiculous. That was until you remembered the darkness, the voice of that wretched woman, and the coldness of the knife. "Holy shit." You said, your head falling as you realize your predicament. "So, what do you two want from me?" Mallory turned on her heels. "Well, I was sent to retrieve your soul and bring it back to your mortal body until he showed up." Asclepius rolled his eyes at the brunette, annoyed by her response. "My boss, satan, has been displeased with his son's work. He thinks you'd be a fine companion, someone to give him a push to bring about the end times."

All of this sounded insane. It was simply too much to process. Mallory could sense the fear coming off of you. "Good thing is that won't happen, so long as I have a say in it." She reached to hold your face as a form of comfort. But before you could react,  her body fell limp as the red-haired man retrieved his arm from her back, her heart in his hand as you shrieked in terror. "Shhh Y/N, there is no need to fear me, soon you'll be back to normal soon." His voice overlapped with the hissing of snakes as they slithered towards you.

There was no place to run, so instead you back into one of the four corners of the room, even then, you knew it was useless. Pain pierced through your skin as the vipers sank their teeth into your skin, venom mixing with your blood. You tried to scream, but nothing left your throat, your mind slowly fading in and out of consciousness. The man gave you a half-hearted smile. "Send Michael my regards." And with that, your world faded to black once again.

-----

The skin on your body began to prune, given the countless days you had spent floating in the river. Suddenly your heart began to beat as blood rushed through your veins, your eyes opened, the water starting to irritate them. You mustered up what little strength you had left and made your way to the surface, gasping for air.

Swimming was never your strong suit, but you noticed that there was land nearby, so used your bit of energy to make sure you got there. Once you reached the dry land, your body fell, your back making contact with the soil. You wanted nothing more than to sleep. But something caught your attention, a scent. One you weren't all that accustomed to, you felt something within, almost as if your body was fighting itself.

Your body acted against you as you stood, drawing closer to the smell. As you crept, the voices become much more vivid. One, in particular, was much too familiar. "This sacrifice is much more special than anyone we've done before." You thought for a moment, and your mind brought you back to the night you lost your life, your cries and pleas ignored just like the unlucky girl they had chosen tonight. 

You yearned to do something, but you were no match for them. That was until you watched as your skin went pale, bits of it turned to scales. Part of you was horrified, but part of you relished in this new power. Before you made a move, you heard a much deeper voice speak. "I sense something, someone, a  powerful presence." Suddenly your body was completely taken over. Your once [y/e/c] eyes had now turned to a crimson red. Without thought, you suddenly appeared behind one of the cloaked figures, something you weren't aware you could do till now.

All the rage and bloodlust inside of you reached a boil. As your arm plunged into the woman's chest, you retrieved your hand to find her heart in it, and with no hesitation, you took a bite. The look of shock on everyone's face was pure bliss. You stood, wearing nothing but the underwear you had on the night of your death, covered in blood. Many of the cult members attempted to stop you, but it proved useless as you swiftly discarded them.

The few worshippers that remained had fled, hoping to keep their lives. All that was left were the corpses and Michael, along with Ms. Mead. The blonde boy gave a look of astonishment. Before anyone could break the silence, your skin reverted back to its previous form, the red in your eyes fading as your body fell to the ground. Michael approached you, kneeling to be closer to your face, cupping your chin, now drenched in blood. 

"Magnificent, my father must have sent you." His face formed a wicked smile. You were far too weak to respond and watched as he removed his cloak and placed it over your cold body. With that, he scooped you into his arms, continuing to burn into you with his gaze.

His voice was smooth and mellow as he whispered into your ear. "Let's get you home." You shook your head in disapproval and tried to push yourself off of him, but there was no point. It was clear who had the upper hand. Slowly your consciousness began to fade once again. It was clear how exhausted you were, and eventually, you drifted into a slumber. Your fate left in the hands of a man who watched you die.

----

okay wow can’t believe i actually finished a fic for the first time, this feels great! I hope you enjoyed, let me know if you wanna be tag okay toodles!

[let-it-raines]

Playing the Waiting Game

For years, Emma was told to stay away from pirates and others who did not uphold the integrity of the crown she was raised to represent. Emma was never particularly good at listening, however, and while she can still hear the words of her parents in the recesses of her mind, there’s a louder voice that keeps calling her to one particular pirate captain.

rating: a soft m

found on ao3 | here | 

-/-

Birdsong rings out from above her, wings whipping through trees and rustling the leaves, and Emma uses the sounds to keep her own footsteps quiet. There are too many leaves and stray branches scattered on the forest floor, and while she doubts there is anyone else out here when most everyone has work to attend to, she still likes to keep her presence quiet. She’s old enough to know that she’s never truly alone, and lately there seems to be some kind of danger around every corner.

Or, at least, that’s what her father was always telling her.

She was brought up with these never-ending senses of freedom and adventure and hope, and while remnants of those three remain in some of her choices, there are voices in the back of her mind reminding her to be careful with her actions.

And with her heart.

One of those voices is her father. The other is very clearly her mother.

Right now, she’d rather not hear from either of them for once.

After a few minutes of wandering, she finally finds the spot for which she was searching. Beyond the trees but before the cliffs, Emma walks upon a spring with water babbling and then rushing away as it travels to the ocean. It is not salty like the water of the sea, isn’t constantly filled with fisherman and Naval officers and the occasional pirate ship , and she seeks the peace of it and how refreshing it is to bathe without having to listen to the commotion that’s always taking place in the tavern. Emma will be forever thankful for Granny and Ruby for giving her a room and work with good pay, but the simplicity and lawlessness of the place is not what she’s accustomed to.

Well, it is now.

Looking around once more, Emma decides there is no one around, and she shrugs off her cape before working around the buttons at the back of her dress. She doesn’t have on a corset today, can’t be forced into one unless she’s trying to earn more coin at the tavern or at the docks when she sells jewelry with Ruby, but undressing still brings her a sense of freedom and a lightness that couldn’t be found for many years.

“That’s the ability to breathe,” Granny always says. “Men take it for granted because they can wear whatever they damn well please, while we have to wear torture devices to keep our waists trim and our breasts high. Bloody ridiculous.”

When Emma’s toes sink into the water, it’s chilled. The month is not yet March, but it’s a particularly sunny day. Emma assumed the waters would be fine, and after a few minutes of shivering, they are. The Summer Isles are never too cold. Misthaven used to freeze every year, frost and snow covering all of the land, and while Emma does miss the snow, she at least doesn’t have to worry about losing her toes to frostbite.

Humming to herself, Emma takes her hair out of its plaits and then wades beneath the water, letting every inch of her long, golden hair soak, before she swims to the shore and reaches over for the lotions she brought with her. This one smells of lavender, and while she knows that Ruby is not fond of the thought of becoming someone’s wife, Emma selfishly wonders if Ruby might marry Graham so that he can continue to bring soaps and lotions to the tavern.

Then again, Emma is sure she could procure these all on her own. She has some coin stashed away, could sell some of her finer dresses and jewels that she managed to bring with her, but doing that seems like erasing her parents.

Their voices pop back up again, such hope and optimism there, and she pushes them away.

Not today, not today, not today.

“If it isn’t Ms. Swan lazing about in the spring.”

Emma’s eyes spring open, and she sinks further into the water while her heart beats an erratic pace. What the hell is he doing here? How did he find her here? How did she not hear him walk over the crunch of the leaves on the ground?

“What are you doing here?” Emma finally manages to ask. He smirks, eyes looking downward, and she crosses her arms over her chest to cover her breasts.  

“Well, I was going to endeavor to take a proper bath without being hounded by my crew, but it seems someone is occupying the spring. You’re making a mighty fine show of it, lass.” He raises his hands. “On my honor, I have seen nothing below those delicate shoulders of yours. Wouldn’t be proper.”

Emma rolls her eyes and starts floating toward her things while keeping an eye on him. He’s in nothing but his leathers and a long, dark shirt today that is open enough that it barely covers any of his chest. That’s not unusual, though, and she finds that her eyes linger at the dark patches of hair covering the strong muscle before they move up to the multitude of silver chains around his neck. Finally, though, they settle on the sharp, stubble-covered jaw and the white teeth showing in a smile that always makes her skin pebble up in gooseflesh.

One part of her wants to say that’s in a good way while the other is not so sure.

“Killian Jones, since when are you proper?”

He scoffs and places his hand on his chest, affronted. “I am always a gentleman, milady.”

“If you’re so much of a gentleman, why don’t you turn around and allow me to get dressed.”

“As you wish.”

“And don’t think I’m taking my eyes off of you for a second.”

He twists around and winks, the bastard. “I would despair if you did, but I promise to keep my eyes off of you, which is such a bloody shame.”

She has to bite her tongue. She doesn’t know if it’s to keep from laughing or scolding him, and since she seems to be at war with herself so much, she decides to keep her own mouth shut as she climbs out of the spring and moves to her clothes, pulling her shift down over her before dressing in more complete layers. The clothes cling to her wet skin, and her hair will take ages to brush through, but at least she’s no longer exposed to the elements and to Jones.  

She’s not a prude. Really, many around the village would call her a whore because she’s been in a man’s bed before marriage, but she’s not particularly interested in societal norms anymore. But she doesn’t have much of an interest in Killian Jones seeing her in the nude if it’s not on her terms.

Ruby would cheer her on for that thought. Granny would likely tell her to watch herself.

“You can turn around now.”

He makes a show of it, slowly turning and sauntering toward her, and when he’s standing but a few feet away, she gets a glimpse at overly blue eyes that she could swear he managed to steal from the sea.

“You cut quite the figure in that dress, Swan.”

“I’m not wearing a corset.” “I think it is apparent that you need not wear one.”

Emma rolls her eyes and reaches up to start braiding her hair. “So, when did you return to the Isles?”

“A few hours ago. I was planning on bringing the men to the tavern tonight. We had a successful voyage. Figured we all deserved a celebratory drink.” “There are other taverns.”

“Ah, but none with bar wenches as pretty as you.”

This time Emma can’t hold back her laughter, and even with her head tilted back to the sunlight, she knows that he’s smiling.

“I am not a bar wench, and you are not courting me.”

“Why ever not, love?” he asks with a wink. Even then, though, he steps closer to her, and she allows him to place his hand and his hook on her hip. This isn’t unfamiliar territory for them, and she knows herself enough to know that one day she’ll cave. Is it really caving when it’s what she wants? “I could court you. Believe it or not, I was taught how to properly court a woman. I simply believe my way is more thrilling.” “That’s because your way involves rum and sex.” “You forget the gambling.” Emma scoffs, and Killian leans in closer, dipping his head to her neck so that she can feel the softness of his lips and the slight scratch of his beard move against the sensitive cords of her neck.

Fuck, that feels good.

To think that at one time she would have never dared to utter that phrase nearly makes her giggle.

“How could I – however could I forget the gambling?” “Maybe you were distracted,” he teases as his teeth gently bite down before pulling away. Emma gasps before she can stop herself, and Killian’s chuckle is warm against her skin. “I have been told I can be a distracting man.”

“In your dreams.”

“Ah, well, you are indeed in my dreams.”

She allows him to trail his lips against her skin for a few minutes, letting the pleasure rumble over her and settle deep in her belly, but then the voices are back, telling her that she’s better than a pirate, that this isn’t proper.

She never did care much about proper. Why would she now?

“I’ll see you tonight,” Emma whispers as she pulls herself away, heart thumping. Killian’s cheeks are red, his chest heaving, and she knows if she looked down, his trousers would be tight. “I’ll find time to play cards with you, and you can tell me about your journey.”

“Your heart’s desire, Swan.”

And then she’s gathering all of her things and quickly moving away. By the time she’s out of the woods and back inside the perimeters of the village, she smells wood and salt, and she can’t decide if that is from the town or if it’s from Killian.

It’s been months since he’s been back. She doesn’t remember exactly when he left, but she always knows when the Jolly Roger is docked here. The tavern is usually the home to travelers and fisherman, but every few months, each bench and bed are filled with pirates. They may bring in a different type of man, but whenever they leave, Emma’s coin purse is always full from tips and Granny can afford to buy whatever materials she needs for upkeep.

They are all surprisingly well-behaved, but really, if one knows the captain, one knows that isn’t all that surprising at all. The man likes his rum and his card games, mostly because he keeps weighted dice and extra cards up his sleeve, and while a brawl or two does break out, it’s not what Emma thought to expect from a pirate.

“Pirates are no good, sweetheart,” her father once said as he paced back and forth in the library. “They come to our land and they plunder. They have been known to take women and ruin families. They threaten lives for gold. What could possibly be good about a pirate?”

What could be good about a pirate?

A part of her knows, but it’s her parents’ voices and their memory that keeps her from fully falling into finding out.

When she gets back to the tavern, Ruby is sitting in the corner on a bench with Graham, the two of them laughing at some private joke, and they don’t pay any attention to her as she sulks through and slips behind the bar and back into the kitchen where Granny is chopping up a few vegetables while water simmers over the fire.

“We’re going to be busy tonight,” Emma casually tells her, grabbing an apple. “I would get out the rum and whiskey.” Granny turns back to her and rises her brows. “How do you know that?” “I’ve heard a rumor the Jolly Roger is back.”

Granny puts her knife down and places her hands on her hips. “Did you hear a rumor, or have you seen that captain of yours already?”

Emma bites into the apple, and juices run down her face. “He is not mine.”

“Maybe not, but he’s sweet on you.” “And why is that a problem? Graham is being sweet on Ruby out there.”

“Graham is a respectable man.”

Emma opens her mouth to say that she knows for a fact that Graham isn’t quite as respectable with Ruby as Grammy thinks he is, but instead she takes another bite of her apple.

“Look,” Granny sighs, picking up her knife to cut her vegetables again, “you are a mature woman, and you are not my kin. But you also came here five years ago with a chest of expensive goods and not a lick of sense for how to live, so you cannot blame me for caring for you. That man is a sight for sore eyes, and if you want him to warm your bed over the next few weeks, I will not attempt to stop you. When he leaves, however, and he will leave, I don’t want to hear a word of melancholy out of you. Now help me cook dinner and then we’ll prepare for tonight, aye?”

Her parents would definitely be fond of Granny.

Emma helps cook and clean and knead the dough for the bread they’ll bake in the morning, and by the time the night falls and the tavern is lit by nothing more than candle and lantern light, every bench and barstool is full with the excess men leaning against walls and sitting on open window sills that allow the night breeze to waft in. None of them have had a moment to sit down or take a breath from constantly refilling drinks and serving food, and Emma’s feet are starting to ache from constantly standing. She should have had more time to soak them today during her bath, but there’s obviously something to be said about best laid plans being spoiled.

“You have an admirer,” Ruby tells her, nudging her shoulder. “I don’t think he’s been able to keep his eyes off of you all night.” “Yeah, well, we both know I’m his type. Look at all of the women surrounding him. He could easily pretend any of them are me.”

There’s a heaviness in the pit of Emma’s stomach when she looks over at Killian, at the way he commands his table with whatever tale he’s weaving and how the women bat their eyelashes at him and run their fingers over his shoulders.

“You are blind if you think any of them hold a candle to you, my dear. Why don’t you go talk to him, play a round of cards? It’s slowing down. If I need you, I can easily get you.”

“I don’t know, Rubes.”

“Why not? He’s handsome, he’s got a sense of humor, and he’s only ever here for a few weeks at a time. I know you’re not interested in a commitment. What else could you want?”

“I want,” she starts, but then she realizes she doesn’t know what to say. “I don’t know.”

Ruby sighs and turns to Emma, placing her hands on her shoulders and squeezing until Emma looks directly in Ruby’s eyes. “I don’t know who exactly you were before you came here, but I know you’re not someone who lets the opinion of others stop her from having a little fun. So don’t listen to my Granny. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. And don’t listen to whatever part of you says you can’t be with him because he’s a pirate. It’s just a job, Emma. It’s illegal in some places and not the most clean cut in others, but nearly everyone who walks through here is doing something that’s a little…crooked.” “That’s one way to put it.”

“Go,” Ruby insists with a shake of her head. “Have a good time tonight, and if you hate it, which you won’t, I will not bother you at all. I swear of it.” “I will hold you to your word.” “I know you will.” Ruby moves her hands from Emma’s shoulders and then loosens the laces on the front of her dress, exposing the tops of her breasts. Leave it to Ruby to do that. “Enjoy your night, and if you’re fortunate, your morning too.”

Emma rolls her eyes, but she listens…after she drinks a small glass of rum herself.

Killian isn’t paying her any attention as she shuffles through the tavern and moves to the back of the room where he’s sitting. He’s shuffling a deck of cards with his hand when she walks up while muttering something to the women ogling him, but he does finally look up when she learns over the table.

“What are you boys playing?”

He blinks, slowly, and his lips tick up to the right while his tongue flickers out, running over his bottom lip. It’s a look she’s seen before, but it’s not one she’s allowed herself to fully appreciate it.

That’s a damn shame.

“Smee,” Killian calls out, slamming the cards down, “come and take my place in the game.”

“But Captain – ”

“Smee – ”

“Aye, sir. I will gladly take over.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Emma chuckles. “I would have played with you.” “You would have lost,” he whispers as he stands and gets nearer to her. “It was rigged.”

Emma clicks her tongue. “I should have known.”

“Later, though, I might shuffle a new deck, and I give you my word that I will not keep any cards up my sleeve.”

“I make no such promise myself.”

He chuckles and dips his head until his lips brush against the shell of her ear. “Would you like to come back to my ship for a nightcap?”

Emma gulps.

“I don’t believe I can leave Ruby and Granny here alone when we have all of your crew.”

“Pity that. Still, have a drink with me. I did promise to tell you about my journeys.”

“That you did.”

They settle at a table in the corner of the tavern beneath one of the few closed windows. Ruby brings them a pitcher of ale and two small glasses, and before she walks away, she winks and makes a gesture that Emma hopes Killian ignored.

Or maybe she hopes that he saw it.

Emma does not know what she wants, truly, but she pushes down those thoughts and then downs a pewter of ale while Killian begins weaving a tale of his adventures. She can tell that he’s leaving parts out, that he’s curating this for her ears, and she tries to piece together the parts he is not sharing. He went to Misthaven, and she wants to know more.

How is it doing?

Are the people happy?

What about the flowers? Were any blooming despite the month?

Is there still a large rock with her name engraved in it sitting on the shore?

But why would he know any of that? He didn’t make the voyage there to quench her curiosity. He went to make a deal with another pirate captain, something about them both coming across an abandoned ship full of goods. She didn’t know pirate captains made deals like that. She thought they simply killed and attacked for what they wanted.

Then again, she’s starting to realize that maybe she doesn’t know anything about him past the rumors and few bits and pieces he’s shared over the years.

And yet she so readily lets him run his lips across her skin and was fully ready to share his bed tonight.

Emma sucks in a deep breath and slowly lets it out. Her heart is far from calm, and she suddenly can’t get enough air.

“Love,” Killian says, his thumb on her chin as he turns her attention back to him. “Are you quite alright, lass?”

Emma nods and swallows before plastering a fake smile on her face as her hand moves from her lap up to Killian’s hook, tracing along the metal. He watches her movements, and she knows she’s distracted him.

“I have a confession to make." 

"I find most women do."

“I want to know how you got the hook. You hear so many stories…”

“And what have you heard?” “Nothing that I don’t want to hear from you.”

His brows pinch together, but then he softens them while his lips stretch and she has a view of his pretty white teeth. “An enemy took it from me because he believed I took something of his.”

“Something more important than a hand?”

“More important, aye.” Blue eyes glance away before he leans in closer, his hand pressing down on her thigh. “If we’re sharing secrets, would you like to tell me how you became so educated? Or why your attention on me has increased when I was speaking about Misthaven?”

“I’ve read about it is all,” she lies. “My parents taught me to read. I was fortunate.”

“And where are these parents now? Do they know you’re associating with dirty pirate captains?”

“You bathed earlier.”

Killian tilts his head back with a big, booming laugh, and half of the tavern looks their way before he can contain himself and look directly at her, his eyes piercing. “I bathe quite frequently, but I don’t believe I could win the approval of any woman’s parents. So, where are Mum and Dad, love? Do I have to worry about dear old father want to chop off my other hand?”

“No, no you don’t.” A sob catches in Emma’s throat, and this time she can’t swallow it down. “What’d you take from your enemy?”

“That isn’t important for you to know.” “I want to know.” “Well, it’s none of your bloody business!” He picks up the jug of ale and takes a large swig directly from it, his throat bobbing as he swallows. “I think I best let you get back to work, sweetheart. I’m suddenly not in a mood for a night cap.”

He moves his hand of her thigh and reaches into his pocket before tossing a small purse onto the table. “For your trouble. Have a good night, Swan.”

And then he stands and walks away, coat swishing behind him until he disappears out the tavern door and into the darkness of night.

-/-

When the crew of the Jolly Roger comes into the tavern the next night, Emma lets Ruby deal with the Captain’s table. She feels Killian’s eyes on her the entire night, and she knows they’re a darker shade of blue than they usually are.

‘Tis no matter. If he wants to push her and wants her to talk but she can’t ask him questions, then they’ll stay at this stalemate. He’ll be gone soon enough, and he’ll be nothing but a distant memory until he comes back.

If he comes back.

She doesn’t need to be sharing her bed with him anyhow. It would be momentary pleasure only to be left and disappointed again. If she wants someone to sleep next to at night with no connection, there are plenty of other men in the village. She doesn’t need him.

So Emma lets him come and go as he pleases, serves him when she has to, sells jewelry to his crew on the days she works at the docks, and he seems to be choosing to mind his own business as well.

Good.

Days pass before they turn into weeks, and the sting when Emma sees him has dissipated to nothing but the smallest of aches, and he seems to be coming into the tavern less and less. Ruby and Granny have both mentioned it, but Emma has brushed them off, not wanting or needing to explain any piece of her life to them no matter how good they’ve been to her.

She is allowed her own bits of privacy.

Tonight she is taking that privacy by sweeping the alley outside of the tavern while Ruby, Graham, and Granny work inside. It’s unsurprisingly busy tonight. With spring sweeping in, warm weather has come too, and it has allowed the ocean breeze to settle into the air, leaving a warm salt. There’s no need for cloaks and gloves and several pairs of stockings, and Emma longs for the summer even more now.

“Where are you taking me, Captain?” Emma hears a woman giggle, and she sinks back against the building, her heart pounding as loud as horse hooves. “Are we going to your ship?”

“I’m giving you your coin, you will tell my crew I had a nice time should the question arise, and then you may go and enjoy your night.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“I’m not going to sleep with you, lass,” Killian mutters, his hook flashing in the moonlight. “Have a good night.” “Why don’t you want me to share your bed tonight?”

“My reasons are my own. Question them at your own peril.”

And then he turns and walks away, his boots crunching on the gravel.

Emma can’t quite believe what she’s just seen, and she swallows the ever-present lump in her throat before pushing off the wall and dropping the broom against the door. Her curiosity is going to get the best of her because instead of returning to her work, she follows the sound of Killian’s footsteps and then his shadow as he returns to his ship. She’s likely not welcome, but that doesn’t stop her from watching him bark at a cabin boy before he walks through the doors to his quarters.

She hesitates, lingering on her toes, and maybe she’s being dull tonight, but she quietly sneaks aboard the Jolly, making sure none of the remaining crew spot her, before she follows in Killian’s footsteps and opens the door that will lead her to his cabin.

“Jim, I said I was not to be disturbed!”

“My name is not Jim.”

There’s a clatter and a curse, and when Emma is able to climb off the ladder, she can see Killian picking up a stack of books, still muttering to himself.

At least he isn’t cursing at her. She would deserve it for having walked onto his ship without him knowing.

“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing here?”

“Curiosity,” she admits, taking in the small room filled with books and a small table, as well as a bed that looks more comfortable than hers at the tavern. He seems to have quite the collection of small goods, and her mind betrays her again by wanting to know where exactly he acquired each of them. “Frustration also. I don’t understand you, Killian Jones.”

“Not many people do. Few know me well enough to, and I don’t have most people call me by my name. Most use my more colorful moniker.”

“I like Killian better.”

He huffs and picks up a pewter cup, placing it on the table next to what looks like a map. Are these his plans for his next adventure?

“What are you frustrated about, Swan? Have I done something else to offend you? Pushed you too much? Gotten under your skin? Or are you here to pester me about my past once more?”

Emma shrugs and sits down at the edge of his bed, running her finger across the blanket. “My parents always warned me about pirates, you know?”

“I imagine most did.” “They said you were all despicable and dangerous and that I should never trust any of you.”

“You shouldn’t.”

She hums, more unconvinced now than ever before. “But there’s this weird thing about you that makes me trust you despite everything in my head telling me not to. Would I be wise to assume that you haven’t been a pirate for your entire life? You noticed that I was educated. I have noticed the same of you. The Navy perhaps? But how does someone who was educated in the Navy become a pirate?”

“How does someone who knows proper grammar and etiquette start work in a tavern? How old are you, Swan?”

“How old are you?”

“Thirty-two as of next month.”

“Twenty-six for me. In October.”

Killian clicks his tongue, and she snaps her head up to look at him. He’s not smiling, but he’s pleased. She can see the mirth in his eyes and the way the corner of his mouth twitches.

“You know,” he sighs, pulling the chair out from under the table. It screeches against the floor and then groans when he sits down. “I heard a rather peculiar tale when I was in Misthaven.”

“Did you?”

“Aye. You see, Misthaven has been under a new ruling for the past few years. It seems the King and Queen were killed while sailing to visit the court in Arendelle. Since the law had not passed for a woman to be able to take the throne without a King, the deceased King’s brother took the throne. It seems the princess had been unwilling to marry her suitor and ran away. It takes a clever lass to avoid that many palace guards.”

Emma nods and picks at a thread in his blanket, pretending not to care too much for his story even as her heart explodes within her chest.

He knows.

She knows that he does, that there’s no way he wouldn’t have figured it out, and maybe she should run away, should try to find some kind shelter. There has to be a reward out for her, and Killian may want it.

But if he did, he would have taken her already? He’s been here for weeks. He would have had his opportunities.

“It’s said she had hair made of gold and eyes made of emeralds, but to me, it almost seems that her hair is the color of sunshine and her eyes are comparable to only the ocean on a summer day. Wouldn’t you agree?”

She finally looks up, her lips parted to refute his assumption, but she finds that the words die on her tongue. Instead, she decides to ask another question entirely.

“How long have you known?”

“Since the moment I heard the tale last October. It was your birthday. They have a celebration in the village square.”

“If you knew how I was educated, why did you pester me about it back in the tavern? How is it fair that you know so much about my life and yet I know none of yours?”

“’Tis not fair. Nothing about life is.” Killian stands from the chair, its legs scraping against the wood again. He shrugs off his coat, his shirt underneath clinging to his muscles before it loosens. She can see the way his shoulders heave, the way he’s taking deep breaths, and he’s still turned away from her when he starts speaking. “I have no interest in reliving my past, but I will tell you these truths for the sake of good form. I was in the Navy until I was eighteen. My brother was killed because of our corrupt king, and I turned to piracy. Sometime later I met a woman who was my first love, but her husband took issue with this. He took my hand and since she wasn’t interested in being with a broken man, she went back to her husband. Is that everything you need to know?”

“Killian – ”

“Don’t,” he sighs, turning around with his face buried in his hand. “I don’t tell any of that for sympathy. I share because I should have ages ago. I don’t enjoy being on unequal footing with a woman I fancy, so the moment I figured out your past, I should have shared mine. It’s only right.”

“Thinking you’re on unequal footing is inane. This is not a game.”

He drops his hand and smiles halfheartedly. “No, I suppose it’s not.”

Neither of them speak next, silence lingering in between the two of them, and she keeps waiting for Killian to break the silence and fill the cabin with words. He doesn’t. And the longer it goes on, the more she thinks that the air gets thicker, heavier even.

The more she wonders how she’s even breathing.

“If you enjoy being on equal footing,” Emma finally begins, standing from the bed and sauntering toward Killian until she’s standing directly under his gaze and can smell the leather from his clothes, “then I must admit that I fancy you as well.”

He blinks, and she knows that the corner of his lips tick up.

Good.

“Aye?”

“Aye,” she whispers before pushing up her toes to glide her lips over his.

Emma has felt Killian’s lips on her before, but never like this. It was always on her skin somewhere, sometimes brief, sometimes not, but she has never actually kissed him. She’s never felt how the softness of his mouth mixes with her own or how his beard would feel rough rubbing against her chin. She’s never felt the warm swipe of his tongue or the way that he knows how to push and pull, how to give and take, and how to keep the pace slow, almost reverent when she was fully intending for this to turn into something that would have a fire burning so brightly in her belly that the entire ship would burn down.

That fire is definitely there, warming her, but she thinks she might be able to contain it if this pace continues.

Then again, this isn’t what she was expecting, and the gentleness of it all might make her lose her footing more than if they were to strip out of their clothes right now.

Killian pulls back first, but he doesn’t stray far. His forehead rests against hers, and his thumb has moves from her hair to her chin, his thumb resting in the indent so that she can feel the roughness of his skin and the cool, smooth texture of the metal making up his ring.

“I imagine your parents wouldn’t be too fond of you kissing a pirate.”

“I imagine not, but at some point, I think they would come around.” She leans into him again, brushing her lips over his as she speaks. “Tell me more about Killian Jones, the man. I’d like to know him outside of the view of everyone in the tavern.” “I’m afraid you won’t find him to be as adventurous.”

“Try me.”

Killian chuckles, kissing her once more, this time quick and dirty and absolutely breath-taking, and for a moment, Emma almost tugs him back into her and pulls him down on the bed, but she’s not ready. Now she knows more about him, now she knows something past the physical frustration and the sexual desire, and she finds that she wants to talk to someone who knows about her past but isn’t trying to push her and pull her back into that life.

He’s got a past too, one as colorful and heart wrenching, and she craves knowing more of it.

If he’ll let her.

Killian nods and tells Emma to sit down. She settles on his bed, pulling her knees to her chest and watching as he pulls a series of leather-bound journals out of the ornate cabinet carved into the ship. He doesn’t say anything, simply sitting down on a wooden chair and flipping through the pages, reading a few words to himself, turning the page once again, and then he settles on a passage.

“Today, I set foot in Misthaven for the first time in over a decade. The journey here was full of calm, fall waters, and while a chill nips at my nose, I cannot deny how beautiful this kingdom is. Evergreen trees spread across the ground as far as they eye can see, but then, in the blink of an eye, there are vast stretches of white sand that link to the sea. It reminds me of when I was a boy, of the way my mother would take us to the beach before she died, and though I am here for work, I wonder of the possibility of staying here on a more permanent basis.”

Killian looks up to her, blue eyes cast in a hazy shade of gray, and she swears his cheeks may be shaded in pink.

“Though,” he continues, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, “I would be remiss to say that if I do not return to the Isles, I’ll never seen Emma Swan again. She’s fiery, that lass, and while I was first attracted to the curves that make up her body, I find that she is the only one who is not afraid to challenge me. I fancy that about her, even when she is yelling at me, and it would be a lie to say that I do not enjoy riling her up. Her cheeks turn pink, her lips press into a firm line, and then she shows me her wit that is purely unmatched.”

“You write about me in your journal?”

He doesn’t look at her. Instead he run his tongue against his teeth and flips through a few pages.

“With the information I’ve gathered today, I believe Swan to be the lost princes of Misthaven. This seems ludicrous, but I cannot turn my mind off to keep from thinking of this. The timeline, the description, the portraits of her in the village, all piece together. It is not my place to be intrusive, and while many would say that means I’ve gone soft, I cannot help but assume that she has run for a reason. She suffered a great loss, and as someone who has experienced many of those, I understand the urge to run. I live this life because of it.”

Emma studied anatomy in her schoolings, knows where each organ is supposed to be located, but she would be damned right now if her heart isn’t in her stomach, beating faster than it ever has while her throat constricts. Killian has obviously skipped over several pages and paragraphs in his journal, has not told her more than he has told her, but what he has told her is enough.

They understand each other, and maybe beneath the physical attraction, that has been there all along.

“Would you like to meet me by the river tomorrow?” Emma whispers as the ship rocks below them.

“Aye, love, I think I would.”

Killian meets her by the river a half hour pass noon the next day. The sun is beaming down on them, a gentle breeze whistling between the trees, and while the two of them share more than they have in the past, it is still but a bird pecking at the shallows. That changes, however, as more days come to pass. During the day, the two of them meet by the river, exchanging slow, lingering kisses that sometimes stay that way and other times leaver her entire body flushing, and at night, he comes to the tavern. There, life is almost as normal as it always is. He sits at his preferred table with his crew, women often trying to gain his attention, and while they are always unsuccessful, there’s a feeling of being unsettled that comes with it.

He has a reputation to uphold, and really, who is she to ruin that for him?

Captain Hook is who the world knows.

Killian Jones is who she is getting to know.

And as the spring melts into summer, that is who she is falling for in a way that she never allowed herself to expect.  

“Swan,” Killian whispers against the back of her neck, his breath warm as it ghosts over the expanse of her bare skin.

She shifts back into him, dragging her foot along the warm skin of his calf as he presses into her so that she can feel the rise and fall of his chest and the hard planes of a sea-worn body.

“Mhm,” Emma mumbles, tugging on his hand that is lying flat against her stomach.

“I’m afraid I have some news to share with you.”

The words do not truly settle in her mind. Instead, they stay on the outskirts, waiting and wanting to get in and settle, but her sated body and tired mind don’t allow that.

“And what’s that?”

“I received a letter a few days prior from an old acquaintance who says he has news of my old king once more trying to get his hands on the poison that killed Liam. I cannot let that happen, my love. He could kill thousands, and my men are getting restless. They need to be back on the sea before I have mutiny on my hands.”

Emma blinks and swallows while her stomach swirls, the words Killian is saying finally settling in her mind.

He’s leaving.

That is what Killian is trying to tell her, and she so wishes that she could fall back asleep and not hear any of it.

She knew this would happen, but she had allowed herself to feel comfortable, content even.

Emma had allowed herself to feel love despite knowing that it can be gone in the blink of an eye.

After her parents’ deaths and after many of her courtships in her youth, Emma always believed love to be fleeting, but in actuality, it is not. It seems that it takes no time at all to fall in the kind of love that would take a lifetime to get past, and she has allowed herself to do just that.

Stupid, stupid girl.

Emma makes an attempt to steady her breathing, to someone convince Killian that she has fallen asleep once more, but she knows that he doesn’t believe her when his lips press against her shoulder once more.

“I am a pirate, my love,” he whispers into her skin. “Tis the life I have chosen, and for now, I cannot settle down in one place. In the future, I am open to every possibility, but for now, I must go. Would I be a fool to ask you to come with me? I can show you a way of the world that you did not get as a child, and if you want, we can venture to Misthaven under the cover of the night and cloaks of disguise so you can be home once more.”

Emma opens her eyes again and takes in the soft glow of the candles still burning and the moonlight shining through the windows, a mix of a golden and silver glow, and she allows herself to imagine what leaving her safe haven would be like.

What going home would feel like even if that place is no longer hers.

“But it is your choice,” he continues, each word vibrating against her skin. “Everything is up to you, and if you choose to stay, know that I will count down every minute until I can get back to you.”

Nodding, Emma squeezes Killian’s hand once more. “How much time do I have to make my decision?”

“I will not leave until you have.”

She does not know what to say or how to put her thoughts into words, and while they are pressed together so that she can feel every inch of him, that is not nearly enough. So she glides their hands downward and shifts her leg back, hooking it over Killian’s calf, and he easily takes the hint, slowly touching her in a way that has her heart racing as his lips trail along her back and her shoulder, breathing her in as she does the same to him. The ship rocks gently below them in a soothing motion that Emma has grown to love, and the slowness of the ocean sets the slowness of their pace.

A gradual building that goes higher and higher and higher with each deft movement of Killian’s hand.

But then his hand is replaced, and he slides into her in a long, slow motion, heat radiating across her skin as he fills her. It’s familiar by now, and while she will admit that it is not always thrilling, there are times like this where she cannot imagine any other feeling beside being joined with him in the early morning hours.

The pace stays the same, sometimes slowing when Emma twists her neck to capture Killian’s mouth with hers, and she lingers in living on the edge of falling over, wanting to be there but being content to wait. She’s never liked waiting for much, especially good things, but with Killian, she’s found that waiting is always with it.

Waiting for him to flirt with her, waiting for him to be honest about who he is, waiting for him to come to the tavern, waiting for him to share his past, waiting for him to turn up in the markets with her favorite dessert when she thought he was working, waiting for him to fall in love…

And the thing that always gets her is that yes, she has bided her time and waited for him in certain aspects, but she has not sat idle. She has done her job, has spent time with those closest to her, has done things that she’s wanted to do. So much of her life was controlled, and she’s not yet done with experiencing the freedom of being the only person who has any right to tell her what to do. She may have been raised to wait for a man because he makes the final decisions, but that is not the life she is living now.

Heaven knows, she has made Killian wait for her as well.

Likely far more than she has ever waited for him.

And he is not making any decisions for her. That is all up to her.

Now, though, as Killian’s hand inches to where they’re joined, his fingers working what can only be considered magic, she knows that she is no longer waiting to fall over the edge into the bliss that leaves her warm and sated almost every time.

They do not move afterward. They do not speak either. Instead, they stay pressed together under the blankets in Killian’s cabin, and when they are ready again, they once again join together. This time is not slow. It’s hard and fast, and Emma can scarcely breathe as she holds on in desperation knowing that this could be the last time for a long time.

If not forever.

She wakes not remembering having fallen asleep, and she immediately knows she’s not sharing the bed with anyone else. The mattress is not nearly warm enough for Killian to still be here. When she blinks open her eyes, she sees him standing next to his dresser. He’s not yet clothed, but she watches as a finishes attaching his brace for his hook and then slips on one of his shirts, this one long and billowy and the darkest shade of black she’s ever seen. He doesn’t button the top, leaving his chest on display, and she finds that she can’t look away from him as he tugs up his trousers and tucks in the blouse before putting on his necklaces and rings on. Emma has grown so used to seeing a variation of his clothing nearly every day, of watching him methodically get dressed and then sit down over his logs, the official ones, not the ones where he writes about her, that she cannot quite imagine the day where she is not here to witness these every day moments that are the most ordinary she has ever had.

After a life filled with extravagant and extraordinary, Emma imagines that the thrill that runs down her spine at the thought of having her own normal is greater than any thrill she’s ever possessed before.

“Ah, good morning, my love,” Killian sighs when he sees her. He tugs one last lace on his leathers before sauntering toward her and leaning down to kiss her. He tastes of mint already, and she finds herself smiling about it. “Should I call to the kitchen to get you breakfast, or will you be joining the crew there?”

“Where are you off to?”

“First, to eat,” he smiles, scratching behind his ear before brushing his hair off his forehead. “Then I have preparations to arrange before we depart. Tonight, though, I am all yours, however you want me.” “Captain, that is quite the dangerous position you’re giving me,” Emma laughs before letting the blankets fall around her as she stands and walks to the wardrobe to grab one of Killian’s shirts. “However I want you?”

“Anything for you, milady.”

Emma shakes her head and then turns back around to him, pressing up on her toes in order to wrap her arms around his neck and brush her lips over his mouth as she speaks. “I want to go with you.”

“Swan – ”

“Don’t protest,” she whispers as his hand and his hook settle at her hips. “You asked me, and I’m agreeing. I don’t know if I’ll want to go to Misthaven, but I do know that I am ready for a new adventure with you, whatever that may be.”

-/-

-/-

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[courtorderedcake]

Majestically Too Far Beyond, CSSNS 2020

Emma Swan is a Witch who has made (And apparently makes) bad decisions. Helping a desperate Witch out of a weird situation doesn't seem like a bad decision, even against her, runes, a tarot reading and her friend's Snow druid intuition - until it is and the consequences are very real.

Killian is a Demon with a long history of persecution against him, and his denizens are not much better off. His Angelic brother is on a mission to rehab Demonic image to prevent violence on the streets of Hyperion Heights, as some sort of Holy mission deeply rooted in millenia of guilt. Witches and Warlocks use them for parts, Werewolves see them as a threat, Angels mostly still hold on to the ancient feud regardless of their treatise, Fae stay chaotic neutral, Vampires don't care for others affairs - it's a perilous world where hate crimes happen without consequence. After a disastrous meeting, he attempts to drown his frustration with a trip to the bottom of a bottle, but ends up falling in bed with a mysterious Witch in her tower home. Soon he's missing a hand, has only the vaguest idea of what happened from the mess of blood he's woken up to, and a mirror shows that some strange, different, Witch is pregnant with his child.

RATED M for Mature Themes. Written for @cssns​ 2020 Beta’d by The best team ever ( @jarienn972​  @ultraluckycatnd​  @donteattheappleshook​) and Art by @kmomof4​

Read on Ao3 HERE. 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 |

Chapter 4 - For with you, earth is heaven too

"Thank the bloody stars, Liam is it really you?" 

"Killian," Liam breathed a large sigh of relief. "Yes, are you - what the bloody hell happened to you? Your hand!" 

"But a flesh wound, more importantly can you free me from this wretched tower? This mad Witch trapped me here and I need to - " He caught sight of Emma, who froze, pressing herself against the wall. "It's you."

Emma swallowed hard, Killian pulling away from his brother to stare at her with those unearthly eyes. The feeling of being dropped from a great height overcame her, knees almost buckling at the sensation of floating that eased into a strange thrum in her bones. It was an immediate revelation, her lips parting as his clawed hands balled into fists.

It was him. His name was Killian. Her heartbeat was louder in her ears, and she could somehow feel his shock as if a ripple moved in a small pond. 

"How did you -" Killian tried to ask, but Liam pushed him back, standing between Emma and Killian as Emma backed away further. 

"Is this Witch involved in the plot on your life, little brother?" Liam growled. "If she is, say the word. I had her locked away, and I'm itching to do it again, if not just to prove to my ex that I was right. She refused to listen to me about my suspicions on her delinquent friend, and now she's being frigid. She broke off things, but - "

"You and Elsa were dating?" Emma yelled, snapping out of her trance. "For fucks sake, do you know how much you probably hurt her with your bullshit? How dare you call her frigid!"

"You won't guilt me for this, Witch. I know you had something to do with this."

"Brother," Killian said, his voice trembling. Emma was suddenly full of dread, wishing to simply go home, never to think about the two ever again. "She isn't the, er, the one who -"

"Say no more. I'll have her arrested, and this time you better not even imagine getting out of that cell you -" 

"No," Killian interrupted, laying his hand on Liam's shoulder. His whisper became louder, hesitation falling away from his voice. "No. No, Emma didn't do anything." 

"It seems very clear that she did do something," Liam grunted, pointing at her. Killian looked annoyed, trying to interject through Liam's blustering. 

"She's pregnant, yes, but -" 

"And this child - It's yours?" Liam interrupted, his irritation rising. 

"Liam, could you bloody well shut up for one moment - Look, it's easier to just - let me show you. Mirror, mirror, on the wall, show me Gothel the day she removed my hand." 

Emma was immediately greeted by an enthusiastic Killian and Gothel making out as they stumbled through the same walls that she was surrounded by. Her cheeks flamed as Liam sputtered, and to her surprise the Demon's ears pinked with embarrassment. 

"Sorry, sorry," he hissed out over the sound of their groaning. "Mirror, after this, please."

The mirror showed a naked Eloise from behind seated on Killian's waist as she rocked, loud moaning echoing, causing everyone in the tower to utter a different expletive. 

"No, you bloody piece of glass, after. After all of that!" Killian gritted out with his face stained red, the mirror phasing into a dim view of Killian's sprawled form on the bed. 

Eloise approached, magic rolling off of her in thick mauve smoke, a dagger raised in her hand. The cut was inhumanly fast, Killian waking groggily with surprise to look at his missing hand with confusion, the dark blood dripping from the stump making Emma feel dizzy with returning nausea.

Eloise held the hand in triumph, using a finger to draw a symbol on her belly as light began to emanate just below her navel. Killian was standing now, sheets clutched to him, looking at her with rage as he held his wrist and yelled, but the noise was growing around him as if a tornado bore down with its wind. He was quickly drowned out while wind began to swirl around Gothel, her hair whipping around her face. 

Ripping a bedsheet that lay over a cauldron aside, she tossed in Killian's hand with a giggle. An explosion of blinding light burst forth, and she was gone, leaving a bewildered, bloodied Killian alone in the dark. 

Liam cleared his throat, crossing his arms over his chest. 

"Well, what does any of that mean in regards to -" 

In the darkness, the mirror suddenly lit, shining a gentle glow over the room. Killian walked towards it dazed, squinting at what displayed on the glass. 

Emma could hear her cries of pain, and knew at once what he was seeing. She stepped forwards, watching both brothers with clear wariness. 

"Show them what you showed me," Killian commanded. 

Emma appeared on the glass, her body contorted and stomach swelling, agony written on her face as David attempted to break down her door. 

"I'm so sorry, lass. I don't know how, or why -" Killian began, before Liam interjected. 

"Don't apologize to her. She's the one who did this to you; she made a deal with that woman, and now look." He gestured, and Emma looked down at her feet in shame. "This is just another reason to hate Witches, another proof of their disregard -" 

"Enough!" Killian growled, his eyes flashing. "I know what she did."

"Why didn't you leave? You just watched me go through this, knowing -" Emma asked quietly, her voice breaking. 

"I wanted to leave. Do you think I enjoy this luxury resort? I can't, she transferred some curse on to me." 

"Don't entertain her, little brother. This is proof, and all I need. I hope you enjoy your second trip to prison, Ms. Swan," Liam smirked. 

Killian blocked him from his approach as Emma scrambled backward. 

"I'm not pressing charges on her. Drop it, Liam. Haven't you harassed her enough?" Killian whispered. 

"Can we, um, have a moment alone?" Emma mumbled, her sideways glance catching how Liam bristled, his wing feathers puffed in agitation. "I need -" 

"That's a grand idea, actually." Killian cocked his head slightly, glaring at Liam. "Give us a moment or two, I promise that I can handle myself without you here for a moment."

Liam crossed his arms, his glare meeting Killian's so forcefully Emma would swear there was an electrical current in the air. Finally, he nodded. 

"I'll be literally perched outside, so don't get any ideas about escaping Ms. Swan." Emma nodded, looking away when Liam's gaze tore from Killian to land on her. "And don't forget: I know what your power is. Using it here just gives me more incentive to find you." 

Emma's eyes widened in shock as her head snapped up, just in time to see Liam smirk as he flapped once, disappearing out the window. 

Awkward silence fell between Killian and Emma, left alone as papers stirred in the gust. 

"Are you really not going to press charges?" Emma asked, after a long moment. Killian surveyed her carefully, her nervous fidgeting as she bit her lip and refusal to meet his eyes easing his own nerves. 

"I won't be, lass. Aye. You have my word on it." She looked up, relief flooding her face. When their eyes met, Emma felt a jolt of warmth travel up her spine, her body relaxing of its own accord. 

"And I can trust your word?" she asked, suspiciously. Killian's eyebrow raised, his lips turning upward into a mockery of a smile. "I didn't mean -" 

"Oh, no Swan." He took a breath, laughing darkly while his only hand carded through his hair. "I can guess your exact meaning." 

Pointing a finger to his horns, Emma scoffed. She pointed a finger outside at where Liam was most likely lurking. 

"I meant that your brother is trying to put me back in jail," She pointed her finger at him, jabbing it as his tail flicked in agitation, "Because you didn't have the decency to find a way to contact me," she hissed, stepping forward further. 

He growled low, his eyes narrowing. "And how was I supposed to bloody well manage that when I have been literally trapped here, eh Swan? I wrote on your mirror, should I have let down my long hair or charmed some carrier pigeons?" 

Liam poked his head back in, looking between them. "I told you she is a stubborn -" 

"For fuck's sake!" Emma threw up her hands in the air. 

"Shut up Liam, and bugger off!" 

Liam sulkily returned outside with a disgruntled noise. 

"So what," Emma asked, hands finding her hips. "You were just going to wait up here as I felt this bond thing, and hope for the best? Did you just not feel them, or is this some sort of Demon courtship I don't know about?" 

"Of course I felt the bindings, I've been watching everything, every day. It's been torture." Killian's voice rose, and he was suddenly stalking toward her as Emma backed up, her hands immediately resting against her stomach defensively. Stopping in his tracks, Killian froze, his nostrils flaring as he took a deep breath and exhaled it. "This choice didn't belong to me, or to you. Eloise worked the system, broke laws with her magic to make this happen… If you had just studied the ritual more or realized how wrong it all was, we wouldn't be here. I wouldn't be confined to a bloody tower unless I'm summoned or wearing a brand -" 

"Listen, buddy, you watched me right?" Emma gritted through her teeth. A cloud of shadow began to form around Killian, her magic crackling in pinpricks of light around her fingers. "I didn't know a bundle of Demon baby was coming my way via express mail, so if you could not blame this all on me, that would be great."

"You expect me not to be angry at you? My child was not - I had different expectations of what their life would be like. I, unlike you, wanted a family and children -" 

"I've always wanted a family, even if that didn't necessarily include kids, don't go after me for that."

"You had the choice!" he yelled, the dark around him deepening. "I have had none. I'm just an observer, caged while you -" 

"Choice? I had the choice? Well, gee, good to know I chose this with full consent. I wanted to be hospitalized by your monster baby that tried to explode out of me the first chance it got. I chose to puke up everything I eat, because it's super fun. I still haven't entirely come to terms with the fact that they won't classify this as a rape, unless I press charges - not on Eloise - but on you. I can't think straight, and people think that I did this all on purpose, because yes, I wanted to go back to jail - " 

"Alright, lass, alright," Killian put his hand out in supplication, Emma realizing that her own hands were shaking and breath was coming into her lungs in ragged rasps. She took a few breaths before collapsing onto a low stool, his face immediately falling to a look of regretful concern. She heard him mutter, her eyes closing as she rubbed the bridge of her nose. When she opened them, Killian stood with an offered glass of water. 

"Thank you." Emma mumbled quietly, taking it from him and swallowing it greedily. He nodded, opening his mouth to say something a few times, then thinking better of it. Finally, he scratched at just behind his ear, clearing his throat. 

"I'm sorry for all of that, it wasn't - it's not what I meant. We both wanted this to go differently. I didn't mean - I apologize." Taking another breath, he stepped closer, kneeling to be on the same eye level as Emma. She watched him warily, but to his surprise did not flinch away from his approach. "I can't imagine what you are going through. I haven't had a chance to really talk about everything or process that this is real, that someone would do this to me. To us." 

"Thank you. It's not exactly been… I'm not… I've been really alone." Emma admitted. Now that they were closer to each other than before, a strange sense of calm seemed to flow over both of them as if a cooling rain had started. "This isn't exactly a common thing, so there's no one to talk to. I know it's my fault, and I know that I… Thank you."

"You're welcome. I'm sorry, if it matters." She nodded, and he grimaced. "For my part in whatever this is, and whatever she did to us to bind us, I'm sorry. I wouldn't wish this on anyone."

"If you want… I could brand you. I'll free you, and replace her brand with my own."

"No. No, I think not." He laughed lightly, smiling wryly. Suddenly standing, he pulled away and began to pace the floor in quick strides, not looking at her any longer. Emma felt the loss of his stare acutely, shivering. "I'd rather boil my tongue in piss than be another Witch's play thing, and follow your commands like some puppet. You called my child a monster just a moment ago, which means that to you, that's what I am. Absolutely out of the bloody question." Killian tried to rein in his anger, but she kept looking at him as if she cared after making remarks like that. He had tried to calm her, tried to offer an olive branch, and this was her reaction? 

Emma could feel the sting of the lobbed insult, wincing at his outright derision and dismissal. "You're right. You aren't a monster, and I - I'm sorry. The real monster here is Gothel, or anyone who would do all of this. I wouldn't - I wouldn't do that to you. I wouldn't do any of this to you. You may not like me and we both hate Eloise, but this child doesn't need to suffer for that. I… I want her to have a good life. No. Her best life, everything I couldn't - didn't have. I love her already despite everything, and I want her to be okay."

He calmed, stopping his rapid pacing. "No commands? No chopping off bits of me? And I get to see her… my child?" His blue eyes narrowed, scrutinizing her. "What's the catch, why would you do that for a Demon?"

"Because. I've spoken to your brother and Milah's ghost. They have nothing but trust in you, even if they admit that you have stumbled."

Killian felt his heart stutter. He had put her to rest so long ago, his anger completely doused in one fell swoop. "Milah? Is she -"

"Worried about you, but for the most part at peace. She's in the vast gardens of the afterlife." Emma watched the Demon physically relax, the panic she had felt from him ebbing away to a deep melancholic ache. To her surprise and utter bewilderment, the urge to hug him popped into her head, which she shook off with confusion. 

"Why did you contact her? Liam said that you were trying to raise this child by yourself. Why bind yourself to a child and an unknown father for a deranged woman in the first place?" Killian asked, not bothering to veil his suspicion. 

"I didn't… I should have realized that Eloise was hiding something." Emma nervously fidgeted again, and Killian watched as her eyes found a spot on the floor to stare sadly at. Her half smile was easy enough to read, as he was discovering were many of her tells.

 He watched her fingers trace the swell that lay beneath her t-shirt in small circles, listening intently while curiosity bested his better instincts. 

"I have a soft spot for people trapped in their situations because I've been there. She used that against me, made me believe that I was some savior. As for a baby, I thought that this would be years away and never like this. I knew that I would never have a family of my own besides my brother, and as an orphan I thought that any parents willing to give up their child like I was given up… I just decided that I would at least be able to give an unwanted child the family I didn't have. I figured that if the binding worked, great. If it didn't, fine."

"And the fact that it's part Demon?" he challenged, watching her face and body language with interest. "A monster as you called it? That didn't factor in at all? Did you decide to find me when you realized it wasn't some perfect mortal?" 

"I should not have said that. I'm actually… she's definitely not a monster." She traced the curve of her belly absentmindedly, sighing softly. All of their anger melted away as a deep exhaustion settled in its place. "It doesn't bother me for that reason. It's been hard because of my body, I don't know if you saw what this is doing to me -" 

"There are times where I felt your privacy was more important than my desperation," Killian stated, blushing slightly. Emma gave him a small smile, surprised to see the tips of his ears go pink. 

"I… I do need help, but not because I'm scared of her or resent having a partially Demon child. I'm scared because of the changes in my body, how crazy I feel, and how alone I am in this. I want her to have the best life they can, and that means guidance from someone who understands better than I do." Something shifted between them, Killian hearing the endearing honesty in her tone. "And you, you've acted a lot more humanely than many of the mortals I've met even in the brief moments I have spent around you. It's obvious that you would love your child - this child, and I do - I mean, I care about her, and I want her to have two parents - "

Killian blinked, sure he had misheard, his breath catching in his throat. "Two parents? As in - "

"You and I, yes. I can't do this alone, and your brother is already trying to draw up paperwork for me to give her up for adoption. He put me in jail, and I don't think he really believes that I didn't… Look, if you want out, I understand, but I am keeping her - I think it's a her. I can't do adoption, especially when it's orchestrated by Liam."

They both glanced at the window, Liam still out of purview. "Ah. Yes. My brother is…"

"He's a fucking asshat. The king of the dickheads." Emma smiled, Killian letting out a bellow of genuine laughter. 

"That sums it up. And then Demonic infancy... The pregnancy alone without support - I suppose this could work," Killian mused. He grinned, her smile widening. Warmth poured through the bond, and he watched her form ease into comfort, body loosening fractionally. "You have been more of a mum than Eloise by far, I guess that's fair. "

"I want nothing but the best for my child. This world is not going to be kind. It's going to try and shortchange every aspect of her existence. At least having two parents that love her -" 

"You believe a Demon is capable of love, darling? How progressive." The edge of his tone was back, both of them snapping on their armor with well tuned practice. 

Her eyes shot up to search his, in a challenge. "I don't believe. I know it's true, don't act like I'm an idiot." 

"Just who are you, Swan?" 

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"Perhaps I would." Killian said quietly. After a moment, he took in a breath and licked his lips. "Very well. I'll wear your brand, Swan. I'll find a place to stay closer to your abode and -" 

"Stay at my place. I'll make you a set of doors, and it should lessen the need for a full power brand. I think using that much magic might be tricky for me right now anyway, I get tired quickly." He nodded, sympathy leaking into her mind. It felt weird, their feelings intermingling, but not wrong. She could somehow taste it, and knew it was a grayish blue. "You can add a door to somewhere else eventually, but for now I'll put one here to lessen the blood magic that traps you. It'll go to my spare room. You can use whatever suits you best once you find a place. I won't mind, and it's safer for you than the city." 

"You'd trust me alone there, on the farm? And alone in your home?" 

"Snow will say you are a strange omen, but not in the way that makes the flowers shrivel or some other cryptic statement that is Druid for, ‘you're alright’. And then there's what your brother's pamphlets said… I would just feel better if you were nearby, if you don't mind." He nodded, and she released a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. Tension fell from her shoulders as she stepped forward, reaching out to touch him but stopping short when he flinched back. "Where do you want my brand? It's a bit large." 

Muscles rippled under his skin, and she could see where old lines of Witch brands had burned there. 

He had been a slave many times, and many of the brands were old, none quite as faded as the largest one on his shoulder. Almost completely gone, it was ornate and delicate from what was left visible; the shape of a heart and a name. Milah. Emma swallowed hard.

Gothel's wasn't there, she noted. 

The Demon's eyes were dark, black as raven feathers but for the blue flame that licked underneath long lashes. A small silver scar rested on one cheek, shimmering slightly with icy light. His body moved as if it was made of smoke, the main parts of his form solid that trailed away as if he was dissolving into stardust. Swirls of celestial light moved under the many brands, constellations spiraling as she watched. A nebula drifted lower, disappearing halfway under the waistband of his leather trousers, and Emma briefly felt heat color her face. 

Whatever lay below was foreign to her, and based on the guidebook given to her, varied vastly from Demon to Demon. As far as she knew, he could have another arm. 

"Like what you see, love?" Killian whispered lowly, and Emma shook off her thoughts on his beauty and possible anatomy. 

Emma rolled her eyes, and placed her hand to rest on the left side of his torso, just below his sternum. The touch made both of them hiss in pleasure, the gold of her brand a bright metallic color against the light blues of his skin.

"Now," Emma smiled, looking up at Killian's attempts to blink away his half lidded gaze. "If we hurry, I can add these doors and we can leave before your brother makes it back. If you're so inclined that is."

"Why Swan," Killian practically purred, "I must say that is the best idea you've had all evening."

ﾟ・.  ｡・. *✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ*⛧*.・｡*ﾟ.★.・.・✫*.・。.・゜

The first door from the house to the tower took what felt like ages to make, and its toll on Emma's magic was as if she'd been run over by a herd of unicorns. She wobbled through it into her kitchen, immediately opening a can of Red Minos. The magic restoring liquid felt smooth against her tongue, its race to replenish her magic buzzing under her skin. 

The buzzing was met with a strange undercurrent of annoyance with sudden force, and she turned to see Killian glowering at her. 

"You really shouldn't drink that in your condition. All of those magical replenishing energy drinks are terrible for you." He eyed her worriedly, and Emma sighed.

"I don't normally drink them, but I need to make extra space -" 

"It can wait for a day. I can wait for a day. I'll sleep on the floor somewhere or in the tower." He shrugged and took a step forward, standing next to her to watch her fidget nervously with the can. "It's not worth your health, or the little one. Especially given that I've only seen you eat a pop tart and a candy bar for meals today."

Emma felt her fist clench around the can, the aluminum crackling as it crushed. 

"So, the ghost I felt, that was you keeping tabs on me?" 

Killian blushed, the pink of his cheeks startling on his pale blue skin. "When you say it like that Swan, it sounds worse than it is - I was merely trying to get in contact with you and see who was carrying -" 

"Fine then. I'll just fix you up a spot in the nursery," Emma mumbled, interrupting him before she could get more annoyed. "And I'll just throw this away." With a flick of her wrist, the can dropped neatly into the bin. 

The foreign feeling of concern faded, replaced by guilt at potentially hurting the baby with her bad habits. She knew the basics of no sushi, no drinking - if those even applied. What else didn't she know? 

"Where do you keep your linens then?" Killian’s voice steadied her, and Emma pointed him toward a closet. 

"There isn't much. I'm sorry, but you can sleep in the nursery's glider, I have a few blankets somewhere…" 

"I'll be alright, Swan," he assured her, chuckling lightly. "I tend to stay rather warm." 

Emma rolled her eyes, carrying a pillow into the nursery to drop by the glider. She gestured at the murals on the wall. "This is the nursery -" 

"I know. I've watched every day," he admitted sheepishly, his ears reddening at the tips. "I know your entire schedule."

Emma blinked, then blinked again. "Oh." The surprise in her tone didn't seem to bother the Demon, who chuckled softly. "I'm sorry. This is just so weird."

Killian laughed, but the smile he gave her did not reach his eyes. A stale silence filled the room. Not one to sit on idle hands, they began to work in tandem to set up his sleeping arrangements. Finally he spoke again. 

"I'm sorry for not being here. I'm sorry for everything, truly, especially this all happening. I didn't know, I swear it-" 

Emma swallowed hard. Guilt poured through the bond, swirling itself around to the point of being indeterminable if it was hers or his. 

"It's OK, you couldn't have known," Emma soothed. "You don't need to be sorry. I'm not. I mean, it would have been nice, but… I'm a big girl. I can handle myself, and I always have." 

"I wanted to be here so badly. You shouldn't have been alone in this." 

“Hey - You're here now.” 

“Thank you.” 

“You're welcome.” 

A comfortable silence fell in place as she watched him make his makeshift bed on the glider. It was hard not to stare at him, her eyes kept catching the way his horns caught the light even in the dim; an almost mother of pearl iridescence making them shimmer. 

"Oh, your hand -" Emma realized suddenly, only to have him laugh and shrug it off. 

"It'll grow back. Just needs some time and a good potion or two."

Emma nodded, His skin was also strange and ethereally beautiful: it seemed to be a sky blue, but when she moved closer, it became clear that it was as if glittering stardust, galaxies, and things that she could not begin to describe shifted to turn or crash together. His tail was another oddity that left her lips quirking upward. It swept around him in gentle swoops, and she'd noticed it flicking with agitation when they fought earlier. 

Everything about him charmed her in the most peculiar ways. 

(It's the bond. You are bound to each other, and your child. Don't be an idiot.) 

"I can put on the skin suit - er… the glamor if you want." Killian mumbled so quietly she almost missed it, his back turned to her. His tail moved slower still, reminding her of a nervous cat. He was wary of her. 

(Adorable, how unbearably sweet that he was nervous -) 

"Only if you want." Emma shrugged. She saw his shoulders lose their tension, and heard his light chuckle before he turned to face her. 

Emma blinked. She had gotten closer to him, not noticing her drift towards him. Blushing, she watched his face settle into a sly smirk of knowing in the warm quiet. 

(This house has always been quiet, but never like this. This feels -) 

"So, you… Er, work? I guess I don't know what a 'Prince of Hell' does. Are you kissing babies and cutting ribbons all day?" Emma asked, shaking away the bizarre thoughts that seemed intent to turn her to mush. She needed her walls more than ever. 

"I'm actually quite a big deal in the Below. I'm a large feature in the Below's gossip rags and newspapers, if you'll believe it." Killian swallowed, licking his lips. "I'm sure that this will be quite the scandal I'll have to figure out. I might have to hire a publicist…" He ran a hand through his hair, gently scratching behind his ear in thought. 

"I - is the Below - is it like, democracy or monarchy or...?" 

"Ah. Yes. Of course no one up here really takes the time to learn, but I digress. I'm a Pre-fall Celestial, and I chose a side which ended in my fallen status. We designed, built, and made the laws regarding the Below, and thusly were rewarded Kingdoms or provinces in it. There were twenty or so of us, but it has dwindled down over the years from infighting, outfighting, war, and all the other things in between the two." His chest puffed with pride, the bond prickling with touches of it. 

(Get your walls back up! He's weird Hellion royalty and you're some hussy he found who was magically knocked up! This is not Cinderella - this fairytale is too weird even for the Grimm's.)

"Oh," Emma said flatly, turning and striding into the kitchen. 

Killian followed behind, with a hum of disappointment. "Oh? That's really all you have to say about -" 

She pulled a large gallon of jasmine tea out of the fridge, pouring herself a glass. "That gives me no idea or insight into what you do." 

"I'm - I write, edit, and serve as witness and or notary for all contracts that fall in my province." 

"Meaning…?" Emma gestured with her hand for a breakdown, drinking her tea. 

Killian moved closer, plucking the now empty glass from her hands to wash it in the sink. "Imagine I'm the Captain of several fleets of ships that make up a bigger navy. I make sure everyone that touches my name and status is good." 

"Hell has a navy? 

"The Below has -" He paused, and his eyes narrowed as a smirk spread across his face. "Now you're just being right cheeky to vex me. I can feel it. "

She blushed, biting her lip, their distance shrinking as they both seemed to sway into each other. He turned off the sink, the kitchen suddenly much smaller than he remembered. As if in a dream, Emma's hand found his to steady herself, the touch of her fingers soft. His senses were immediately invaded by her while everything else fell away. Catching her eye, he could see the dreamy sort of contentment that relaxed her features, the calm not brief enough to mistake for anything else. 

It disappeared just as quickly, her brows pinching and lips pressed together in a grim line. She flinched away as if burnt, immediately cradling her stomach with her palms. 

"I'll make a downstairs guest bedroom tomorrow, then. It will need, well, everything. I wasn't expecting many guests, and I can't make anything too fancy. A bed and an ensuite are as much as I can muster currently. Ask before you need anything though, I might be able to squeeze a feature in. I'll help you out to the best of my ability." 

"Aye, Swan."

"I eat dinner with my brother every Tuesday and Thursday night. Otherwise I don't really cook -" 

"I know, you eat those awful sugar encrusted tarts instead. You need vegetables and -"

"So feel free to cook for yourself."

"You have an appointment coming up too, and I was hoping to broach the subject of coming along with you. I just, I have a lot of questions; I am both not ready but also entirely ready for -" 

"Well, it's still going to be a while. A year of this, at least, and I'm already scared. I don't know anything about babies, but even less about Demons. At least your brother will chill out slightly now that you have been located."

"Ah, yes. That reminds me. Do you want to continue working? If you do, I don't mind, but you could work less. I am happy to provide a stipend -" 

"A stipend? You can't bribe me -" 

"I'm not trying to -" He stopped himself, taking a slow breath in exasperation while rubbing his hand across his face. When he looked at her again, she saw a patient frustration resting on his brow. "You know, Swan, some people just have good intentions at heart. Take a leap of faith here, and let me repay you for being absent the first four months of our child's life."

"I guess we should talk about our expectations, and intentions, or something then, because I don't want you thinking I'm some damsel in distress." Storming away from him toward the living room, Emma plopped down carefully on the couch. Killian appeared a seconds later, leaning against the wall to appraise her. "I'm not. I don't need help, I don't need you or anyone -"

"You may not need someone, but that doesn't mean you don't want someone there," Killian began striding toward her stopping a short distance away. "I get it, you're perfectly capable, strong, brilliant really - but I'm here to stay, love. I don't want you to have to do this alone, and I know you don't want to either."

"How do you know what I want?" she snapped, unable to get comfortable on the couch. She huffed in annoyance, trying to position a pillow behind her back. 

Killian sat beside her, and she glared at him openly. Reaching towards her, she flinched as his hands gently moved the pillow upwards and to the side. 

"You're an open book, love," he murmured, scooting to sit on the other side of the couch, letting her stretch her feet. 

The anger dissipated again, the bond gently thrumming in contentment at his presence. Emma realized she felt exhausted, the onset of the draining interactions and introductions catching up to her. 

"It might not be so bad, to just have you around. Only just a little bit, to help me do baby stuff, and nothing else at all."

Her eyes closed despite the Demon staring at her, and she blinked them open trying to stay awake. 

"Who knows, love," he whispered, voice a low rumbling as her eyes shut again. "You and I could become friends in this mess." 

Emma yawned, curling into the couch, feeling his presence nearby as if they were connected by a length of cord. 

"Not your love," she managed to grumble, his chuckle the last thing she heard before falling asleep. 

ﾟ・.  ｡・. *✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ*⛧*.・｡*ﾟ.★.・.・✫*.・。.・゜

When Emma woke, she was surprised to find she felt well rested, something that hadn't happened in what felt like years. Light music was playing on a radio, and the smell of something delicious was wafting from her kitchen. She blinked the bleariness away, standing with a stretch and a groan. 

"Good morning, Swan," Killian called from the kitchen. Looking around, she realized that he'd cleaned too, her floors gleaming in the pale morning sun. "I made you an omelet, if you'd like one."

"Oh, we haven't been feeling eggs much lately," Emma looked down at her stomach, surprised that the smell wasn't making her retch. "But… Maybe this morning she's decided to give them a chance."

"Probably desperate for something other than sugar and grease," Killian teased, his tail flicking as his head fell back to look at her. He grinned, and she tried to hide her own. 

This was weird. All of it. The familiarity of him, cooking in her kitchen wearing pajamas he'd somehow acquired while she had slept, humming along to the radio's music. Her friends didn't even know he was here, and he had already broken (crashed) through her walls without any of the resistance they had met. Emma bit her lip, rolling it between her teeth. 

A plate slid in front of her, breaking her from her thoughts. A beautiful yellow omelet with flecks of tomato, ham, spinach, and onion rested in front of her. Mouth watering, Emma took a small bite, letting the cheese melt on her tongue. 

She let out an indecent noise, digging into it as Killian sat beside her, amused. 

"I'd never have guessed you haven't eaten before, Swan."

"Shut up," Emma managed, swallowing another bite. "This is so good, I don't know how you did this but it just - it's so good."

"I went downtown after I was sure you were asleep. If I'm going to be staying here, I needed some clothes and the contents of my fridge." He shrugged, taking a bite and chewing slowly. "I didn't go Below, it would be too much hassle right now, and I was worried about you waking up alone."

"Oh." Emma felt surprise tug at her heart, her brows furrowing. "Why would you be worried about me being alone? I'm alone a lot." 

"Because, now you're not. It'd be bad form to take your kindness and make it look spurned." Killian blushed, and Emma stared, scrutinizing him. 

"Well, you don't have to worry, I told you before that I'm fine." 

"Aye, Swan. This was more courtesy than compulsory."

"Good."

They ate in silence, Emma finishing before him. She placed the dish in the sink, then turned to the wall of the kitchen. Focusing her magic, she made the outline of a door appear, pulling it into reality carefully and folding the plane of existence around it. Connecting the door's functioning portal to Killian’s place was the trickier part; without him there, she had to search manually for traces of him. 

Sure enough, she found his apartment in the penthouse of a downtown tower, its all glass windows and dark, minimalist, slate doors sleek compared to her white paneled addition. 

The door clicked into existence, and she fell to her knees, panting. 

"Emma, by Fenrir's blade, are you alright? What did you -" 

"Made," she panted, pointing to the door. "You, door."

"This could have waited, you scared me! The bond fell from reception for a moment and I thought -" Killian looked panic stricken. Emma rolled her eyes. 

"I'm fine. Just used more magic than I thought. It fluctuates; the baby wants more some days. Usually the days when I need it, but," Emma wiped a hand across her face, finding it sweaty as she slicked back her hair. "I make do."

"I'll get you something to -" 

"I'm fine, Killian. I promise."

He nodded and straightened, but watched her warily as she stood. Emma brushed off his worry easily, his concern as far as she was concerned, was nothing more than worry for his offspring - more bond induced nonsense that they would have to muddle through. Killian disarmed her through it, if her guard even let down the slightest bit, the link between them made her too honest, too trusting. 

(Too vulnerable?)

(No. Never again.)

(Careful, always careful; better safe than sorry.)

ﾟ・.  ｡・. *✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ*⛧*.・｡*ﾟ.★.・.・✫*.・。.・゜

Working out all the small kinks took a few days, including the call to her friends that she had found the Demon, and they needed privacy to figure things out before the coven could descend upon them. Mary Margaret, Anna, and Regina took it the hardest (the lattermost to Emma's surprise), but that was fixed with promises to visit individually when possible. Elsa had smoothed it over, truly, by offering (with a new frosty demeanor) to play bad cop to Emma's good. 

Making it clear that Emma needed space and making a case that even rattled Regina, Elsa had convinced everyone to ease up - even while she was miserable. Liam had tried to use his discovery about Killian to apologize, discovering very quickly how 'frigid' she could actually be. 

Killian for the most part seemed grateful just to be there, and out of the tower. His room was set up and Emma had attached it neatly to the tower (the door currently in his closet), and his other residences. It took time, but the house and her magic got along in a great way, the door's stability not at all in question. Killian had teased her after they toured his homes that it was a lot to baby proof - Emma was simply thankful that the two properties he favored were not out of state. The further the distance, the more taxing it got - it was among the few reasons she had that as much as she wished she could make a door to the Below for him, she couldn't. 

"It's alright, Swan. I don't mind going back and forth to get what I need from the Below. It truly doesn't bother me to commute." Dropping another box into his downtown penthouse as she looked on, he shrugged, leaning back to rest on the bar with his elbows. "I can turn in some work, touch base with my team, do the things I can't do up here that need to be done. Plus, it's not as if you would have if you could have - it's illegal to have unauthorized portals to and from the Below. It's in the DRIVES act."

"Oh," Emma blinked. "I keep seeing that, but I don't know much about it honestly. I have to sign the baby up under it at some point -"

"Not any longer. Liam said that when he suspected you initially, but now he's rescinded the request." Killian’s jaw clenched, his claw like nails ripping open the top of the box in a slash. 

Emma shook her head, looking at Killian with sheer confusion. "Why would he do that? I thought it protected -" 

"I asked him to," Killian stated, an edge to his tone. His eyes flicked to look at her, the sideways glance almost a challenge of some sort. Emma pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to understand what was going on. 

"Okay, I guess I don't get it." Shifting to step towards him, Emma frowned when she saw hurt flicker across his face. "Are you upset with me? Why would you ask Liam to do that? Is there something I should know?" 

"There's a lot you should know, love, I just - just don't fret about it. It's fine." Killian smiled, but the lie seeped from his words into his expression. "Just know that if you ask a Demon or anyone close to them, the DRIVES act is not popular. It's a hit list in the right hands, and the attributes asked in that questionnaire are very unnecessary."

"I don't -" 

"Emma, I don't want to explain all of this right now, but I promise I will. I just - I just can't until I am sure you will understand. My brother isn't great about it, but he's better than many." 

"I guess I'll leave you to this then?" Emma grumbled slightly, unaware of whatever she had done. He caught her wrist as she turned to leave, his hand warm over her skin. 

"It's fine. Please stay, we can change the subject." Killian nodded, and he encouraged her to sit at the large bar. He had impeccable taste, if a bit too modern for Emma's liking. Dark colors and steel fixtures looked untouched, gleaming in the light of a sleek fireplace built into an onyx wall. "So you have a doctor's appointment here soon, right?" 

"In two weeks, at the five month mark. I'll be a third of the way along, basically." Emma stroked along where the swell of her belly curved upwards, marveling at how fast time had passed. She was still carrying large, but had completely slowed down in growth to stay the same size. Her body was rounded out almost completely and as much as it could be, her breasts heavier and her center of gravity at risk of creating an orbit. 

Killian hummed in response, watching her intently. "Do you feel…?" 

"Her move?" Emma finished his question, and he nodded. "I'm starting to. She's the size of a plum right now, if you can believe it."

Killian nodded again, the silence once more taken over. He cast a longing look at her before returning to unpacking. The bond thrummed, and Emma found herself by his side. 

"Here." Taking his hand even as he startled, she placed it on the lower side of her stomach, pressing softly against where she felt the baby laying. Killian let out a choked noise of surprise, his hand stiff until the tension loosened and his large palm formed to her side. 

The bond exploded with warmth, as if a knit blanket had been wrapped around her shoulders and a mug of cocoa had been placed in her hands. Every muscle unwound, her thoughts hazy and free. It made her feel too comfortable, to which she accounted for the madness of what came next. 

"You could come, if you want," Emma whispered, her body resting against his in a gentle lean. "To the appointment, I mean."

"I'd like that a lot, actually," he murmured back, his other hand lazily hugging her against himself. 

They stayed like that for a few moments, the bond between them alive with its vibration, until Emma pulled away with sudden realization. 

Killian looked dazed when Emma stared at him, but said nothing when she turned on her heels and stomped back into her own house again. Emma's anger felt like it might eat her alive, the door to her special room opening with no resistance. She scooted between the boxes and ducked under the bottoms of clothes, curling into herself. 

(The bond was officially a problem.)

ﾟ・.  ｡・. *✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ*⛧*.・｡*ﾟ.★.・.・✫*.・。.・゜

For the most part after that, Emma was successful in her attempts to avoid Killian, both of them happy to stay clear of the other without risking the consequences of the tenuous bond. 

Neither of them acknowledged it openly, until a few days before the first trimester check up when Killian confronted her. 

"I don't have to go if you are uncomfortable, but I truly do want to be there for you and our child," he told her seriously, handing her a large bouquet. The flowers smelled amazing, the yellow and white blooms immediately making Emma's heart clench. "I've taken off that day, and I have a chauffeur for you to save you from the commute. I thought we might -" 

"It's fine. I said you could go, and I meant it." Emma shrugged, holding onto every bit of her armor. 

"I meant to ask, and I know what you have said, but…" Killian raked a hand through his hair, tousling it around his horns. "Mixed children tend to take after the non-Demonic parent. Are you sure that you want to keep -" 

"I'm sure," Emma growled, her attention snapping towards him. He lowered his hands in supplication, and Emma realized she was practically ready to spring: her arm had curled around her belly protectively, while the other was outstretched, and the grimace she wore was more bared teeth than anything. 

"I was only confirming. It's - I'm not -" 

"Whatever," Emma snapped, hugging herself tightly. "It's at eight am. Be here by seven." 

"Aye." 

Per his word, he was promptly waiting for her at seven am the morning of the appointment, the sleek black town car's leather seats warm as he helped her inside. 

Emma hadn't seen much of him since their tense conversation, but he cleaned up well in the skin suit - horns, claws, and tail disappearing, and his skin a pale color that made his lips seem to blush. She could tell he was uncomfortable in it, and in an attempt to calm him she took his hand in hers. 

"It grew back nicely," Emma remarked, examining the scars that still appeared, even through the glamor. "Does it hurt?" 

"No. It's prone to stiffness and some cramping, but," He gave her a grin, the unearthly blue of his eyes bright with mischief as they crinkled. "What can one expect from second hand goods." 

Emma could not help the laughter and groan that bubbled up as he gave a dramaticized sigh with a tilt of his head. "That was terrible," she managed, still giggling. 

He only grinned back, giving her hand a squeeze. They sat quietly together until the car stopped, Killian helping her out again and into the lobby of the office. It was a short wait, the doctor looking at Killian with surprise and then distrust as she ran over her checklist. 

"Still feeling movement?" 

"Yes," Emma answered, sitting sideways on the examination table. 

"Eating and drinking well?" 

"Yes," Emma answered, as Killian made a noise. 

"Are there any recipes or guidelines I could follow to cook for her, so she eats -" Killian tried, the doctor wrinkling her nose and not looking at him. 

"You are growing right on schedule, are you having intercourse at all?" the doctor asked, ignoring Killian completely. 

"I - no, I'm not, I -" Emma stammered. 

"Good. Any Demonic Malevolence?" The doctor shot a sideways glance towards Killian, and he frowned. Crossing his arms and sitting back in his chair, he tilted his head to stair at the ceiling. Emma noticed his tail had broken through the glamor as it began flicking rapidly with agitation. 

"Um, I am not sure -" 

"This would be thoughts of hurting others, destruction of items of value, cravings for raw meat, forcing contracts or actions to be done by means of thrall on others or against your own will, feelings that result in heightened fire magics -" 

"Oh, no," Emma shook her head. "Nothing like that at all."

"It's illegal to withhold reports of malevolence, are you aware of that, Miss Swan?" 

"I - Yes," she repeated, slowly. "Yes I am." 

"And you are sure there is nothing you would like to report?" the doctor asked, leering at her. Emma laid a hand over her stomach, looking at Killian. He let his stare at the ceiling drop, catching her eye, his gaze unreadable. 

"I'm sure," Emma nodded. 

The doctor clicked her pen, making a clicking sound with her tongue. "Alright, slide your pants down and lay across the table here. The ultrasound technician will be in shortly." 

The doctor left, leaving Emma and Killian alone. 

"Do you need me to -" Killian began, but Emma was already shimmying down her pants and underwear. 

"Oh, no," Emma said, realizing his attempt at giving her privacy. "I - you're going to want to see this, I think, and at this point, my vagina and you are going to become acquainted in the least desirable of ways that I doubt anyone could sexualize. I'm fine with it. If you are grossed out, let me know. I don't want you fainting - "

"I assure you that I do not intend to faint or do anything untoward," Killian stated firmly. 

"Good," Emma said simply. 

The technician came in moments after, immediately glaring at Killian as she got to work. She squirted freezing gel on the roundness of Emma's belly, making her jump. Killian snapped to attention, looking at the technician with narrowed eyes before moving his chair closer. 

The technician pursed her lips before plastering a sunny smile over her grimace. "Alright, let's see this baby! Fingers crossed for good news!" 

Taking her wand, the Fairy made a few circular motions, a glowing mist sticking to the gel of Emma's stomach. Waving her wand at the machine, the machine whirred to life, focusing in on a blurry image.

"That's her?" Killian asked, reverently, leaning forward to look at the monitor in awe. The small white blob kicked out a tiny leg, flailing in the black and gray of the background. Emma felt his fingers interlace with hers, and found that she was grateful for the grounding gesture. 

"That's our baby, oh I - Killian, she's perfect, she's -" Emma could barely recognize her own voice; the excitement, the weight, the proof that they were a part of this something forever and the giddiness of everything stealing her breath. Tears pricked at her eyes, the emotions too much. Swiping them away, Emma took in a deep breath, and steeled herself again. 

"Good call, a beautiful little princess is nice and snug in Mum." The nurse pointed to the screen at the baby's sex, before giving a sly glance towards Killian. "She looks normal enough; didn't inherit much of her father at all. Bless your luck for that." 

Emma glanced at Killian, tensing at the nurse's rudeness, but he didn't seem to notice. His smile was wide as he squeezed her hand, the grin making his eyes twinkle absolutely infectiously. All Emma could feel was adoration, the warm balm of it through the bond, and the lightness that made her squeeze his hand back in turn.

"She's beautiful," he sighed out, and Emma managed a choked nod, before his eyes caught her own. Worry immediately spread across his features. "You're crying, darling are you -" 

"I'm fine, I just got -" Emma hiccuped, trying to stop the tears rolling down her face. The nurse, to her credit, was cleaning up quickly, wrinkling her nose at them in disdain when Killian cupped her cheek, his thumb gently swiping away tears. "I just got overwhelmed for a moment. Thank you for coming, it means so much more than I thought, and -" 

"Thank you for letting me," Killian replied simply, shrugging ever so slightly. He pressed a kiss to her knuckles, and Emma shivered at the electricity that seemed to shoot down her spine. 

Emma rebuttoned her pants and pulled her sweater over her stomach, standing carefully while Killian smoothed down the knitted fabric. Swaying into his touch, he let her rest her cheek against his chest, the comfort of the not-quite embrace washing over them. Humming a noise that he reciprocated, her hands splayed across the stretch of his chest, as Killian’s nose rested against the crown of her head while his lips pressed chastely against her forehead. 

(It could be like this forever, it could be everything and a future if you just -) 

The nurse cleared her throat loudly, and Emma jumped away from Killian’s arms, looking startled. 

"Your pictures are ready," she drawled, her eyebrows raised even as her eyes began to narrow. "If you'd like them, that is." 

Emma nodded, swallowing a deep breath to calm her racing heart. 

The pictures were a blurry mess, a few profiles of their baby that were more modern art than much else. One was marked as 'thumbsucking' and Emma tried not to be overcome by the strange swell of emotions that threatened when she traced the tiny hand that met a tiny mouth. Killian’s favorite was of their baby's feet, crossed at the ankles but directly in view of the camera's viewpoint. They were so tiny, so small even with their tiny nubbins of toes. 

Leading her to the car, the chauffeur asked where they were headed. 

"We can go home if you like, Swan," Killian hesitated, taking her hand and swiping his thumb over her knuckles. "But -" 

"It's alright if you have plans today. I understand, I didn't expect you to stay," Emma mumbled, trying not to let her strange disappointment leak through the bond, or show in her downcast eyes. 

Killian laughed slightly, shaking his head. "On the contrary, I was going to ask you to lunch."

Emma looked up sharply, lips parting in surprise. "Oh, I'd - I wouldn't mind that at all -" 

"I thought we could have lunch together, then we could go shopping for her, now that we know for sure, and you could pick out anything you don't have already." Blushing, he raked back his hair with his other hand, scratching behind his ear. "If you're up for it, that is. I know that this is all…" He made a gesture with his hand, and Emma could not help the laughter that bubbled up. 

"I'd love that, but I can't afford -"

"My treat, all around." Killian squeezed her hand again, his eyes meeting hers as she bit her lip. "Please. Let me take care of you, and her. I know it's all -" 

"Fubar?" Emma suggested, his lips quirking into a grin. 

"Sure, though I would argue Snafu, as not everything has been a disaster. Some of this, it's been -" 

Emma cut him off, calling out to the chauffeur. 

"Granny's please, on Crimson boulevard and Lupine Highway." 

The chauffeur nodded, and Killian rolled his eyes. "You have to eat something besides grilled cheese and onion rings, Swan."

"You said vegetables, and that's what onion rings are. Delicious, delicious, vegetables." Emma grinned, leaning herself to rest against him. 

(So much for armor, you let him through your walls like he owns the place. Stop letting the bond win, stop letting yourself forget about your scars!) 

(Shut up, brain, and let me eat my onion rings.)

[enithinggoes]

Wanderer’s Refuge, chapter 1: departure

Chapter 1: Departure

This is a story about a family, not a bloodline, not a union officiated by the state, but just a group of people sharing their lives and experiences in such a way that their presence and company gave each other a powerful sense of safety and belonging.

The story may start at the door to a building called “St. Evans’  house for wayward children”, with a white haired, pale blue-eyed baby in a basket, on the basket was a note, “her name is Agatha Clarke, the doctor said she would never be able to walk, I am so sorry.”

The girl was taken in, and the orphanage took care of her, in a way that she wouldn’t have described as either good or bad, but certainly lonely and highly regulated. When a subtly glowing mark appeared on Agatha’s left temple, changing from time to time, the nuns told her everyone had those somewhere on their body, but it was “rude” and “uncouth” to have it showing, so she was instructed to keep her hair long to keep it discrete.

Agatha Clarke had a quiet and still childhood, she was carried everyday from the girls’ shared bedroom to the classroom. But during recess, unable to play with the other children who wanted to run around, she preferred to stay in the classroom, which also functioned as a library, both due to her interest in storybooks and wanting to cause as little trouble to her caretakers as possible.

The only break in that quiet was the regular noise and rattle from the adjacent train station, while most other youths in the dorm found it loud and annoying, seeing the trains from her window enraptured the young Agatha, she would often daydream about taking one of those and going anywhere she wished, or even places she could barely imagine from her dimly lit room, a fascination with the inner workings of those wonderful machines joined her love of fairytales and stories like that of Rapunzel and before she was 10, Agatha could draw a detailed diagram of a boiler room on her own.

On sundays, Agatha was left for a few minutes outside to “take in some sun rays”, one fateful day when she was thirteen, she met a person from the outside for the first time, someone her age, even.

“H-hi…” a stranger put her hand out towards Agatha, “I-I’m a girl!” she had an intense expression on her face, not aggressive, just very focused.

“Hello, erm… so am I.” answered the girl, a little confused about the greeting, did everyone outside the orphanage introduce themselves by stating their gender? Nevertheless, she was still excited by the prospect of meeting someone new, “my name’s Agatha Clarke, what’s yours?”

“Ursa Martin” the girl with wild black hair said, some tension leaving her body as she casually sat next to Agatha on the bench, still, she did stutter a bit when she said“I like your hair.”

The girls talked on the bench for as long as Agatha could stay. First, Agatha asked the outsider about her life, what she did for fun, what the world was like, Ursa thought the world was an angry place, where bad people would always try to hurt you and you had to be ready, but that just made finding people you could trust even more important, she said she liked exploring the town, going around alleys and rooftops and finding the most hidden places she could keep to herself. Next, it was the white-haired girl’s turn to speak about herself, but she mostly kept to what she knew about machinery and fantasy. Though Ursa left in a hurry when she saw the nun coming to pick her new friend up, she promised they’d meet again.

They met up again next week, and the week after that, it became a tradition of sorts, every Sunday they would sit down and talk about their lives, their tastes, their fears, Agatha found joy in the bravery and the wild stories of her new friend, and Ursa admired the gentle kindness and wonder in Agatha’s eyes. In about a month Agatha told her friend about having already read every book in the library that interested her, and the next week Ursa just “happened” to find a few books to bring to her as a gift, something she would do often in the years thereafter. In one of them, a book of legends, supposedly from centuries in the past, the white-haired girl found drawings similar to the mark on her temple, the stories talked about those markings being a reflection of the person’s soul, and they would change during childhood but become more fixed as development advanced.

In the stories, the mark could be used to determine what kind of sorcery was available to the person, a gift from the heavens. Agatha couldn’t help but try to use sorcery herself, but she didn’t know how, so she just put out her hands and close her eyes to try to concentrate on the things she liked, when she opened them, at first it seemed like nothing had happened. But she soon heard a ticking noise, originating from a small, metallic wind-up man, its stiff legs jolting forward and down to make it walk steadily forward.

Agatha let out a little squeal of happiness, and she examined the toy’s bolts and gears to find it was virtually indistinguishable from normal iron. She hid the toy in her cupboard, not wanting to show it to her caretakers if it was tied to the symbol she was told to hide.

As she slept that night, she had an idea, she’d seen designs of three-wheeled chairs that could be moved by hand-cranks in her books, but she knew she had no way of getting enough money to buy one for herself. However, what if she could build it just with her sorcery?

Agatha started practicing at night, building things of escalating size and complexity, from toys, to pocket watches, to model trains, slowly but surely, she started learning, she found out that she needed to picture all the intricacies of what she was creating in her mind, so higher complexity could exponentially increase difficulty, she also discovered that if she left more than a few creations out she’d quickly become exhausted, so she needed to work on her stamina.

On the night of her 14th birthday, she heard a knocking on her window; she opened it and saw Ursa, just floating about 10 feet off the ground!

“W-what are you doing!?” Agatha asked, alarmed.

“I came to see you!” came the answer, “you told me today was your birthday, right? I hope I didn’t get the date wrong…”

“No I mean how are you doing that?! Are you flying?” she asked in a sort of whisper-yell

“Oh, uhh, when I think hard about a place I want to go, I just sort of… float up there, it’s alright as long as no grown-ups see me do it,” said Ursa, worryingly casually.

“So you can do sorcery too?” Agatha was now more curious than startled

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure everyone can, we’re just not allowed to, apparently it’s a crime against the country because it’s too dangerous and unstable, but I think that’s kind of bull.”

“Oh… could you… Bring me outside? I’d like to see the city, please.” She felt embarrassed, but the chance of seeing more than the orphanage and the street in front of it just seemed too good not to try.

“Of course!” a sudden blush appeared on Ursa’s cheeks, “let me just, hold you up like this.” She grabbed Agatha in a princess carry, and together they floated up to the roof as Agatha was awestruck by the steam coming out of the taller girl’s body, especially her legs.

Once they were up Agatha could see the lights, both of the stars above and the streetlamps below, they were the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen, and they convinced her she had to find a way to live outside the orphanage someday.

She told her Ursa of her plans, her dreams of being able to move by herself, the time she was spending practicing every day while the other youths played at recess, and finally, with her eyes growing heavy, she leaned her head against Ursa’s shoulder and asked “could you bring me here again someday?”

“Of course,” Ursa smiled and put her arm around the white-haired girl, “of course I will.” Agatha felt safe under her friend’s arm, and the warmth from her body was comfortable enough for her to fall asleep without thinking of how she’d come back down.

When she woke up, Agatha was back on her bed, like it was just another normal day, but her determination to build herself a wheelchair had been redoubled. She started to fill her cupboard with as many creations as she could when not actively practicing so she could improve her stamina. To reach towards higher levels of complexity, she started building individual pieces of the design she’d been studying and manually assembling them, conceptualizing how they fit together.

Over the months, she got better and better, from wheel to wheel and crank to crank, just two weeks before her next birthday, Agatha finally got her wheelchair to fully materialize. Just in time to realize she had another problem, what would she do, just say “hey this showed up in my room”? She’d done a surprisingly good job at concealing her practice until now, but this would definitely raise at least a few eyebrows.

When night fell and Ursa came to visit, and she’d often been for the last year, even being there to watch and support Agatha while she practiced, she had an idea. “How about I bring it to you? It’s your birthday this month right?”

“Don’t you think receiving an anonymous expensive birthday gift is still a tad suspicious?”

“No, no, no. Not anonymous. Listen, what if I delivered as if it was from your parents?”

Agatha put a finger to her chin, quizzical. “That… might be good actually.”

Two weeks later, a package arrived, wrapped up haphazardly in green gift paper, with a simple red bow and a note which read “from Mr. and Ms. Clarke”, Agatha feigned surprise and amazement when she saw the contraption she could really describe better than her own face, still, internally she thought “thanks mom and dad, at least you gave me a surname I could use for this.”

Her caretakers were amazed, but they tried to say as little as possible about it being marked as from her parents, maybe to keep her from going after them, or just from being upset at never having me them.

Either way, now Agatha was much more mobile, she still had trouble with inclines or the stairs of the orphanage, but it was an enormous improvement, she was even allowed to move around the block on sundays, during which she would have pleasant jaunts with Ursa, who showed her the train station up close. This was it, this was her next project, she would learn to make her own train.

“What the heck would you do with a train?” questioned Ursa, “what tracks could you put it on?”

“Well… I don’t know, I’ll make my own tracks.” Answered Agatha, and she knew it was silly, no train made its own tracks on the fly, but she still wanted to try and create one.

The girls were somewhat scared of being discovered, but for some reason they just couldn’t resist going out at night together sometimes, Ursa would pick her up and they’d go explore the town and just have fun together, one of these days, they went to the boarder of a nearby lake to stargaze and skip little pebbles across it, Ursa was behind Agatha, leaning over her with her hands on her shoulders.

“Have you ever seen the ocean?” said Agatha.

“Nah, never really been gone out of town. Do you want to?”

“Yes, I’ve seen pictures of the waves, but it seems like the kind of thing you’ll only appreciate in movement.” She heaved a little sigh. “I’m sure it won’t happen for a long time, though. To travel I need money, and I’m not planning on marrying a man anytime soon, so I’ll need to find a job, but most of those available to us don’t pay really well.”

Ursa hung her head in front of her friend, peering into her sky-blue eyes, an intense expression on her face “I’ll take you there… I promise, by the time you’re 18, I’ll get enough money and we’ll go together to the beach, ok?”

Agatha backed away, hiding a giggle “thanks but, why would you do that? I know you’re not doing great either. So why make that kind of promise to someone like me?”

Ursa walked around to her front, getting down on one knee so they could be on the same level, “well, of course I wanna do this for you, because I…” she got closer, holding onto Agatha’s shoulders, “I love you.”

They shared a tender kiss somewhere no one could see them, under just the watchful gaze of the night sky.

After that, they started dating, and became bolder with the visits, to the point where Ursa brought books directly to Agatha’s window. About a semester after, they did something that would change their lives forever.

“So, you’ve been having a hard time with you magic thing right?” asked Ursa from the window.

“Yeah… It’s just that I feel like my progress has been slowing since I have no records of the limits of sorcery, maybe what I’m trying isn’t even possible.” She said, looking up from a small model train that refused to move

“I think I might be able to help with that.”

“How? Have you brought me any new books?” Agatha’s face lit up a little.

“Not exactly, but I might have something better, you see, I’ve been scoping out a spot where we could get some really good info about magic, not just fiction and records of dubious authenticity, I’m talking real historical records baby, the kind of stuff they hid when sorcery was banned! I’ve found a way into the imperial archives and I know there’s nobody there from 11PM to 5AM BUT they check their storage every morning so I can’t bring it to you. My plan then, and I understand if you think this is too risky, but I could sneak you into there, then you could spend hours looking at whatever you’d like and we just sneak out at about 4AM!” Ursa sounded very excited as she spoke, it seemed like she’d been planning this for at least a few weeks, Agatha was hesitant, but very curious, and she didn’t want to have her girlfriend’s (she felt a tingle of joy thinking that) work go to waste.

“If you’re sure we can do this, I’ll trust you, should we head there today?”

They left at about 10PM, floating slowly between the roofs of houses, Ursa commented “I got inspired by you and I’ve been practicing this, wouldn’t wanna drop you am I right?” with a little smirk.

They stopped close to the central district police station, Agatha asked “so the archive is here?” some nervousness creeping into her voice.

“Yeah, I don’t like it either, but I’ve got it on good authority that they keep the archives on sorcery here, maybe the cops use it for something?”

They waited in silence for two hours, seeing all the staff leave around 11, but they wanted to be sure.

“Okay, see that open window?, we’re gonna squeeze through there and then I’ll take you to the archives okay?”

“Okay”, and with that, and a slight smile, the girls began their infiltration, it went surprisingly fine, Ursa had really done her homework in preparation for this, once they were in, they breathed a sigh of relief and Agatha was set down on an empty chair

“Alright.” Ursa whispered conspiratorially, a little excited by the adrenaline of sneaking into a place like this, “We’ve got all the time in the world, so I’ll read the titles and you tell me what you like.

Agatha just gave a thumbs up, still somewhat afraid of making noise

“Ok, “treaties on the legality of sorcery”, “magic in war throughout the ages”, “the fundamentals of magical warfare”…”

“I guess I should start with the fundamentals.”

“Okay! Then I’ll take magic in war.”

They were thick books, and both Agatha and Ursa spent the next few hours going over them, on hers, Agatha learned of the meaning of the symbols on people, there was a chart in it relating different kinds of symbols to different types of sorcery, all sorcery has an “essence” and a “shape”, the essence defining what your sorcery manipulates and the shape defining where it goes, each person had a symbol combining one essence and one shape.

There were too many essences to go over right now, but only three shapes, these were:

“Command”, which meant projecting sorcery outwards and manipulating it in the environment, it allows the sorcerer to produce large amounts of their essence and direct it at long ranges, this shaping allows precise control in a large area of effect and overwhelming attacks. Though it does leave its user vulnerable to surprise attacks from outside their line of sight, this can be mitigated by Command’s lesser known ability to sense their essence around them.

Notable historical example: Jack Austen, “the devil’s hand” a mad flame sorcerer known for taking sadistic delight in the burning of both people and structures and unnaturally red fingers, supposedly a curse put upon him after he once incinerated an army of 500 men he was a part of by himself when their commander insulted him. It is said the curse still runs in his descendants today.

“Imbue”, which meant infusing their sorcery into their own bodies and objects they directly touch, it allows the sorcerer to take in the properties of their essence into their bodies and equipment, it has the lowest range of the shapes, but can easily be used to protect oneself and improve mobility. One thing that can be used to circumvent this shape’s weaknesses is using it to make powerful essence-infused weapons that can heighten one’s range

Notable historical example: Lucius Wolf, “the untouchable”, an acid sorcerer able to maintain his body completely as a viscous liquid capable of quickly dissolving any people or objects he came into contact with for multiple days, supposedly walked at a slow steady pace through a castle to completely melt its lord in front of their whole guard, who repeatedly impaled him to no effect before he simply walked out.

“Create” The rarest of the shapes and perhaps the hardest one to use effectively, it allows the sorcerer to create complex structures and even sentient constructs with their essence, though this takes a large amount of time, with proper preparation the sorcerer can affect the battlefield without ever being present, though maintaining a construct for extended periods of time can induce fatigue, their creator is free to make them temporarily disappear and instantly reappear to save energy, the most powerful sorcerers of this shape could somehow keep their creations in existence after their death.

Notable historical example: Dorothy Clay, “The saint of green valley”, a common baker who supposedly awakened enormous latent magical reserves after her village was attacked, creating dozens of mud golems she molded with her own hands that then spread out over the village, rebuilding all the destroyed  homes and protecting the villagers from any further attacks for 200 years

Agatha learned that sorcery used to be commonplace, used in every war and considered just a part of human capabilities, “a gift from the heavens”, as the book said, and though it focused on its uses for warfare, it seemed as though people used it just to make life more convenient or express themselves and make art. She found it wonderful, and wondered why no one had told her about this.

Moving on in the book, she found just what she was looking for, advice for training with sorcery, it said: “when conjuring, one must take the phenomenon they wish to induce from inside their mind to the outside world, for this, focus must be placed in all of the sorcerer’s senses, the shape, the sound, the smell and the texture of what they wish to create, in the case of “imbue”, imagining what having a different body would be like is also important. However, perhaps even more than the senses, the emotional resonance of the sorcery affects its efficacy, understanding and evoking whatever a spell symbolizes to the sorcerer is key to creating spectacular effects that can change the course of a battle.”

The night was passing quickly, with the girls leaning on each other’s shoulders, enjoying a quiet moment of curiosity and transgression together, almost forgetting about the danger by now. Suddenly, someone appeared at the door.

It was a tall, well-built man with a tired eyes and a brown overcoat, he had a scar over his right eye. The man’s expression went from exhaustion to surprise to irritation in just one second as he clenched his fist for a moment before pointing at the girls with a leather-gloved hand, saying “who are you and what are you doing here?”

Both of them knew that it was not a good idea to answer with their full names, yet they were somehow unable to stop themselves from doing so, Agatha adding “we just came here to try to learn more about sorcery!”

“Alright, I’m taking you in. Breaking and entering and research of forbidden practices.” The man responded, reaching into his pocket

Before he could do anything else, Ursa had already grabbed Agatha and said “not a chance!” before jumping through a window, releasing a burst of steam from her feet that multiplied the force of her jump and turning her back to the glass to protect Agatha and her face from the shattering window. Despite clearly feeling a lot of pain from that slam, Ursa Martin didn’t stop for a moment before turning her feet towards the nearest wall and bouncing on it with another burst of steam to get as far away from the cop as possible. With adrenaline coursing through her whole body, she was able to move quick and unpredictably, softening her collision with the wall and then launching herself again towards the other side of the street.

He tried aiming his pistol at the girls, trying to immobilize them for capture, but with Ursa bouncing non-stop from wall to wall, he had no chance at an accurate shot, and the longer he tried to aim, the farther away they would get, so he grit his teeth for a moment before shouting “STOP!” deep and commanding.

Ursa felt the circuits of her brain get interrupted, and her muscles froze up as she flew uncontrollably at a hotel building. Agatha was left unaffected, still completely able to move as usual, but to do what ? Flail desperately before they crashed straight into the wall ? This was it for them, there would be no escaping with their broken bones if they even survived going head-first into this stone building’s second floor.

She held tightly onto her girlfriend, desperately hoping that she’d be able to save them, that something would get them out of here alright, she thought of travelling together, of seeing the ocean, of the wonderful machines she heard from her orphanage room that could take her anywhere, she closed her eyes and tried to think happy thoughts as she braced for impact.

But there was no “Thud”, there was only a familiar loud whistle of steam and a rattle she knew very well. The girls were sitting together, in the conductor’s room of an impossible machine, they were rising, and tracks were forming just a few meters in front of them and disappearing behind, Agatha wanted to move forward once they were above and clear of most buildings, and so the machine obeyed, they were flying, and they could go anywhere.

And so they did, breathing heavily and moving unstoppably through the night sky to a destination unknown, though what they did know was that this was the day that began the rest of their lives.

[alias-b]

sins of my youth. 020

Billy Hargrove x OC! Evie Fenny~ Also posted to my AO3

Summary: It was common knowledge that Billy Hargrove hated Hawkins. Hated Cherry Lane. Even loathed the strange girl next door. Evie Fenny wasn’t too fond of the chaotic Cali transfer either. An awful high school tradition sparks a chain of events that changes everything, ultimately bringing two frayed souls together.

A/N: Hello everyone. Thanks for clicking in to read. Billy and Evie continue to explore their new relationship together. Max's fourteenth birthday party marks a change for the teens, reminding them that danger isn't too far off. TW: Neil being Neil. Mentions of abuse. Something close to an almost assault/abduction off screen near the end. Light mentions of Pica & fatphobia. Sexual themes

***My tag list is wide open, just shoot me a msg to join it! Chat with me about the chapter if you have the time! Enjoy! xoxo 

Chapter 20: Rose Tint My World

  “Hold still, I’ll poke your eye again.”

   “I can’t breathe, you’re killing me.” Came a sniffled whine.

   “Such a baby. You asked.”

   “I said I was curious after you put the gunk on my nails!”

   “That gunk was a great color on you. You whine just like your big brother.” Carol had Max’s face clamped in her grip as she applied mascara. “Don’t blink, you'll smear it.”

   “Evie, she’s killing me,” Max lamented aloud. “This is not worth it.” Evie just laughed, setting a bowl of pretzels aside. Carol flicked a mirror up to let Max see her handiwork. “Whoa...It’s not terrible.” She gruffed in a mumble, tilting her head to see each angle. "Kinda like Madonna."

   “I’ll take it.” Carol stole some M&Ms from another dish as they shared a spot on Heather’s fuzzy carpet. A movie rolled on in the corner TV.

   Max about howled when Heather came in from the bathroom, face covered in green.

   “Monster!”

   “It’s a face-mask!” Heather planted her hands on her hips, prompting more laughter. “You’ll be more into them once your body really changes.”

   “Girls are way scarier than boys.” Max poked at her blushed cheek which had Carol smacking her hand away. Evie was draped across the bottom of the bed in her robe and nightie, half-watching the TV. “Can you do a zombie make-up?”

   Carol gave a snort.

   “I can do anything. kid.”

   “Eves, you want another piece of pizza?” Heather crossed with the box.

   “I’m so full.” Evie shook her head.

   “You had like one piece.”

   “I ate a big lunch. And lots of pretzels.” Evie snatched the pretzel bowl again for good measure. Truthfully, her appetite had been up and down lately. Mostly down. What with the pangs in her stomach that always passed and… “You sound like my mother.”

   “She was...extra peppy at the salon today. My mom and I got our monthly trim.”

   “Probably some guy she’s seeing, it’ll pass and another will come. Men are like Kleenex to her. Soft, strong, and disposable.” Evie shrugged to pluck up a magazine.

   “Hey,” Max began as Carol fussed over her, “so I didn’t want to make a thing of it, but my mom keeps insisting. My birthday party is coming. She and Neil saved so I could have it just at the roller rink and...they said I could invite whoever I wanted. But, I can’t ask the guys to come. So I figured I’d ask El. She’s really cool. But, maybe if you guys wanted to come? You can bring boys and pretend you’re not even at my party if it’s not your thing. I just-”

   “Max, we’d love to come.” Heather piped up first. “Evie and I rule the rink too.”

   “I look very cute in skates,” Carol agreed with a twitching smirk. “I'm in. I’ll bring Tommy, he sucks and he’ll fall down a bunch. We'll pretend we ran into each other so your stepdad can get the stick out of his ass.”

   “Billy has to go too cause Neil says it’s a family event.” Max turned to Evie. “I think he’d be happier with you there.”

   “I think Billy and I both are fine being there for you. I had my fourteenth at the rink too. It’ll be fun.” Evie beamed, legs up to sway idly. “Plus we haven’t met the Chief’s kid. She’s home-schooled, right?”

   “Yeah, she might be joining us in school next year.” Max stayed still for Carol’s brush. “Depends. She was uh...adopted under weird circumstances. You’ll like her. I taught her how to do that felting thing because of you and she made this funny one of her dad.”

   “I’ll bet Hopper loved that.” Evie winked. 

   “He’s kind of a babe in like a scruffy, rugged way,” Carol remarked. "Strong mountain man type."

   “Ew. He’s so old.” Max reeled back to laugh.

   “I’m just saying! I like a man in uniform. He rocks the khaki.” 

   “The moms in town do eat him up.” Heather shrugged, joining Evie on the bed with a handful of candy. “We all have our strange crushes. I like high cheek-bones. Guys with a little Bowie. Evie? You got one?”

   “Gia Carangi even if she isn’t modeling any more, I love her face.” Evie was flicking pages without looking. Howls from the TV went ignored through the chatter.

   “I called that. Fenny being into ladies. Try Iman.” Carol winked which earned her a look as if she hadn’t planted a kiss on Evie in a fit of rage.

   “People say Billy’s pretty like a girl.” Max had added which got the other girls giggling. 

   “I like this one, we’re so keeping her.” Carol got up to root for a bag of chips, popping them open. “Like the zombie face better?”

   “I still look too pretty.” Max appeared more goth than zombie.

   “You are pretty. Deal with it. We redheads stick together.” Carol stole Evie’s magazine. “Let us know when the party is, we’ll be there.”

   Max looked at the three older girls squished together on Heather’s bed. Chattering and supporting. Happy to have her around.

   A bright smile touched her face for the first time since Neil Hargrove walked into her home. 

** ** ** 

   Most days, all it felt like was floating. Floating through her house. Through Hawkins. Up and down streets. Through school. A stunning illusion she pulled like wool over her dark eyes.

   A woman in rippling silks walking endless halls toward a great, cherry red door at the end, but the door gets farther away and she's thrilled to continue on even still. Feather wings glittering to unfold from her back because heaven's light is beyond the door. Crystalline eyes with their hold. Waiting for her. The sky awaits her with caressing clouds. Opulent gold sun rays and twinkling stars when the world lies down.

   Evie knew she was too big for her wings most days. Too heavy to leave the Earth.

   Knew in her beating heart of hearts that was the first thing people think when they see her. This magnificent soul with drive and neon and talent reduced to a single shrewd glance. And they don't think twice until she's something vaguely sexual. Something marketable you can package and process and sell to the last drop.

   Easier to stomach something uncomely if you can slide into it ruthlessly to rut. They always come like animals, wailing as a banshee would to get off better than they ever will in their small lives. They eat it up. Cover it in sweat and regret and blame.

   These things that hang as little weights on her heartstrings swinging back and forth. They make her not want to attempt extending those wings to fly. Fear of heads shaking in judgement. Fear of looking uglier. More foolish for even trying. Poor thing.

   All because of one glance that couldn't be bothered to see worth in another human life. Sometimes Evie wanted to be skinny not because of beauty, but because she'd get a privilege pass to exist in this world.

   They think she shouldn't dress the way she does. She's probably lazy and self loathing because of added pounds. She has no real aspirations or means to achieve them. Those eyes that watch her eat. That shift away before they decide on another seat because the one open next to her just isn't right. They glare because of the extra room she might take up. Even sharing a few cordial words with fat girls seemed to be a task.

   Evie always notices and does the polite thing pretending she doesn't. She knows what her body looks like, no need to point out the obvious.

   Strange, how these snap judgements, these eyes that don't look twice; can villainize a body utterly. A body. Flesh, bone, and muscle. We're all made in heaven's image. All destined for paths we seek to control. Superiority should have been an illusion. But no, too much or too little, your worth dips low. Fetishes and internalized hatred for things that were shaped and colored differently. Blame.

   But, some days, when the wind soars just right...just strong enough...Evie can spread and illuminate. See the births and deaths of a million stars. Drop the little weights to feel the winds between her fingers. In her curls. In her wings. Feel her feet leave the floor for just a few fleeting seconds.

   The fleeting seconds of soaring always seem so worth it against a world of unsightly aches. Against snap judgements she can toss back to live in a flower petal haze.

   Evie tried hard to live in those moments when they flashed into her. Spotlights. Butterflies delicately landing on her flesh to open and close their stained glass wings for kisses. Evie felt crushed utterly in the most decadent way.

   Billy's soft lips on her neck to get lost in the pulse. Deft fingers that would push up her clothing as he moved in her. Eyes that wanted to see her. All of her. The prayers he could whisper against heating skin.

   A lot could be said about him. But, Billy was always happy to see her and that alone was air spinning into gold. His eyes would light up. Lips twitching. She could hear the single beat that his heart skipped. Even if they didn't speak, they felt this awareness for each other in the vicinity. Truly magic.

   Those eyes. That love of a face. Always staring pointedly to read her up and down. Always plucking the weights from her heart by listening. Always unafraid to touch her. Evie hoped she returned that. She really did.

   Fleeting seconds began to linger between them. Seeping slow and saccharine as fresh pouring honey.

   Sneaking away on walks while he let her hold his hand. Flirtation against school lockers that ended in several 'just one more' kisses. Double dates to the movies with Tommy and Carol. Sitting separately to make out.

   Driving up near Lover’s Lake to kiss in a parked Camaro while the sun laid itself down to sleep. Fumbling playfully to undress and explore. Watching the construction of a coming mall with Slurpees from the gas station. Tongues and lips colored all artificial cherry and strawberry.

   Evie would stretch her wings completely. Let Billy admire them until the world was all satin rose-tinted. She could forget her urges and worries and insecurities. All together. This was fine.

   She was fine. More then fine.

   He so liked to admire her wings. Pleasure crushed in as she moaned. Let his fingers explore contours and notches untouched before. Billy would take those prayers on his lips and drape them over her body. Spell them between fleshy thighs. Pulling more fleeting seconds for himself too.

   They could roll around under sheets and not worry about anything else. Have conversations that always felt silly and wonderful and weighted because they both mattered to someone so ardently. That alone was an ocean both could sink into.

   Something beautiful to behold. The real vision behind the great red door. Your soul mattering.

   Evie was in a bubble with Billy Hargrove. A stupid, dopey look on her face when Mona settled dinner down one evening. Steam rising from a huge pot.

   “Going out later?” Evie began to create sound or she'd be lost. "You colored your hair brown again."

   “Needed another change. Ah, I'm going out just with Karen and Claudia. Dessert and wine night. I asked Susan but that poor thing keeps standing me up. Did you finish Max’s gift for her party?” Mona scooped up huge portions in a bowl that Evie would only be prodding at.

   “Yeah, it’s set. Turned out perfect. She’s not much for jewelry but I think a personalized tie dye shirt will be fun. Might look cool while skateboarding. I also have that goody bag of sweets for her to fill up on we made.” Evie reminded herself to pick up her spoon. Took a few bites.

   “You’re not scarfing it down like usual, you love my crawfish soup.”

   “It’s delicious, I just had a big lunch.” A lie. Evie pressed herself to eat quicker, tearing a piece of fresh bread to chew. Thing was, she wanted to eat. She wanted to eat so badly despite the sickness welling inside her. The heavy ache made it a task. Mona eyed her daughter there. “My stomach's in knots a lot, just school stuff.” 

   “Well, you are a senior.” Mona pushed her own soup around. “I haven’t been around as much as I’d like to be. Just the salon and I met-”

   “I get it.” Evie’s lips spread in a flash, not wanting her mother to finish that sentence. “I’m with friends a lot and I keep busy with my music and the cat. I even wrote a new song.”

   “That’s two this week, you. Strumming along blissfully.” Mona gushed. “Whatever has you all creative and dewy, chase it.” Silverware clicked around and Evie stared at her dish. A broader smile crossed.

   "I will."

   “What’s it called?”

   “Ocean Eyes.” 

   Evie could be pretty transparent in the early stages of a relationship.

   These short weeks in with Billy. Lyrics flooded free. Sometimes he liked to watch her write and strum when they hung out. Trips to the lounge where she worked other nights got him a full show, but not of her original stuff. Songs marched forth.

   “Ocean Eyes.”

   “Cupid and Psyche.”

   “Honey Stardust.”

   “Neon-Tinted Hearts.”

   Rock. Pop. Lush and obscene with her glowing heartstrings. She wrote them for Fredrick too when they got together.

   “Doll Joints.”

   “Lollipop Lolita.”

   “Prince Charming.”

   After dinner, Evie stole a notebook filled with her every sinful lyrical confession of her time with Fredrick Bowers. Burnt it in an empty pot out back until Billy wandered out the back steps of his place. Asking her if she was trying to set the neighborhood on fire.

   “How can I help?” He’d snarked while the sky went all pretty peach fuzz. Evie just laughed and never explained what she’d burnt or why it felt this cathartic to watch the smoke rise toward a falling sun. She figured maybe this was the day she'd stop eating foreign and sharp objects. She could do it. She was happier. Lighter. It had to stop.

   It had to. She couldn't think about this haze shattering, it hurt too deep.

   Billy used the flame to light his cigarette comically and kissed her before inhaling the smoke. 

   “Can we take a drive? Or walk if you’re low on gas?”

   “Let’s walk, I got some cash doing my odd jobs for the damn neighbors, but I need it to last a bit longer with Max’s birthday. Got her this new board she was too chickenshit to beg our parents for.”

   “Aren’t you a darling big brother?” Evie crossed her arms to follow him when the flame dwindled low. They went around the house to the front, started down the street. “Iris has some hours for me that next Saturday night.”

   “You going to tell your mom about the secret job thing?” Billy inhaled and let smoke billow up into the afternoon light. They walked along Cherry Lane. Not touching. Counting steps while their shadows cast and the streetlights came up. A brisk night loomed, spring begging to creep through the month of March. 

   “I figured I could this summer. Around graduation. Just say I got something bigger since I’m eighteen and Iris can get me steadier hours. Gigs day or night. Maybe I’ll get to host a couple more drag shows. I miss those damn girls, the funniest performers know. I'll just let my mom down easy about the receptionist thing, hopefully she’s fine with it. Make it sound like I took initiative cause I'm a big girl.” 

   “And your grand singer plans?” He liked to ask about her and hang upon the syllables.

   “Still up in the air. I’m taking the year off to work and write. Try for a talent agent or manager. I can record maybe...try to get airtime. There’s this contest thing, they do it every year and the winners always do well. But, I’m honestly too afraid to ask my mom about it just yet. I’m saving though here and there.” Evie beamed. “You? Summer and on.”

   She was clearly asking if he was sticking around for summer. 

   “Odd lawn, house, and car jobs are getting me by. This whole street is a mess and the moms in town like to watch me work."

   "Yikes." 

   "It means better pay and tips. I’m taking Heather up on her lifeguard offer this summer. I'll save up, Dad's already going to be asking for rent when I graduate."

   "Shit."

   "Yeah. Don’t wanna bank on that mall they’re opening with all the other little shits trying to get jobs first.” Billy leaned back to let the cooler air kiss his face, sighing before he tossed his smoke out. 

   Evie came to the end of the street near the forest, swayed around a streetlamp like she was in an old Hollywood flick. Dreaming long and endless. Sometimes she worried so often that she wasn't living. Just dreaming it all away. Maybe a center line was possible.

   Maybe she'd be able to soar over it all.

   Billy waited for her to swing back around it before he pressed into her for a slow, lingering kiss. Even better, maybe they both were sharing a dream. Making it of something stronger.

   “So, how am I doing?” He joked lighter. Evie gripped the lamp to stay level, head tilting. “Two weeks in, almost three. This whole situation.”

   “Situation.” Evie mused, slyly hiding half her face behind the lamp to hum. The shadowy starlet of a femme fatale she loved to watch on television with her mother. Glinting. Dangerous. "This whole situation?" She lingered to sigh it even slower.

   "You and me." He'd sounded out, drawing nearer. "Us..." Evangeline, always the playful nymph, flitted off playfully. Spinning the other way to walk along so Billy came to her side easily.

   “I think you’re doing fine." She tapped her chin. "What about me? Evaluate my performance.” 

   “Ah. In a sea of slithery tadpoles, you’re a goddamn firecracker.” He’d laughed and Evie followed, covering her lips with one hand.

   “I don’t know how any of that correlates or makes sense, but I’ll take it.”

   “Neither do I. Just made it up to see you do that. The scrunchy thing you do when you’re too happy or upset with me.” Billy’s nose crinkled as he grinned there. Evie came up to peck his freckles.

   “You’re a total sap, Hargrove.” Evie continued, hands clasped behind her back before she inhaled the air. “Let’s hit that mini mart nearby. I’m craving a Dr. Pepper. Buy you a soda. It’s my turn.”

   “No, it isn’t. You’re just being too nice again,” Billy remarked, feet shifting slower as they crossed the street. “I can’t take you fancy places.”

   “I don’t need to go to fancy places, I just like hanging out with you wherever.” Evie turned her head to see him. “We’re both poor, we make due. Summer will be better. We can just work and...figure this out. I like it right now though, so don’t worry because I know how you shiver in those boots.”

   She pondered it.

   “Do you like it?” Evie offered quieter, earning Billy’s eyes searching her expression. Lip twitching, he tossed his arm around her. Brought Evie taut into his frame with an easier grin so they could keep walking toward the whirling, illuminated sign in the distance.

   “Yeah, I like it.” He decided. “I like you plenty. What's not to like, Evangeline?” His free hand gestured out and Evie beamed to point at that darling face. Her Eros. Encouraging her wings to unfold without pressure.

   "Wow, you're getting better and better at that." A beat. "Making me blush without rolling my eyes."

   "Please, Angel, your knees quiver every time I hit you with this smile. You might as well toss off the panties for me." For good measure, he flashed it and Evie hid from his absolute burning charm. Cheeks felt that fire bloom and billow.

    A car hurried past them. Sweeping budding flowers and loose leaves about. Delicate, they danced. Trees wobbled back and forth to the wind picking up. Evie stayed looking away to smile that time. Knew this wind would carry her easily.

   "Did you have a best friend back in California?" She moved her arm around his back as they went. 

   "I don't know. Guess I had a few in orbit."

   "Am I your best friend here?" She piped back up and Billy slowed to glance, chuckling.

   "I thought you and I were avoiding labels."

   "It's different." Came the protest.

   "No, it isn't." He paused. "Heather's your best friend."

   "Yeah, but I figured I could have more than one. Perfectly carved places for each." Evie shifted in front of him, hands smoothing up Billy's shoulders to clasp fingers round his neck. Blue eyes glittered to search.

   "You trying to push some admission outta me, Fenny?"

   Lashes batted with all the innocence they could hold.

   "Just admit it, Hargrove," she pulled him down for a lip lock, pecking his jaw and cheeks until he broke to laugh and hold her at bay. One brow lifted. "It'll be our dirty little secret."

   "Fine. Only cause you twisted my arm about it and it gets you hot. You are my very," he palmed her bottom to make her gasp in one motion, "very best friend. Happy?" Billy stole a kiss when she was still dumbfounded, molding their frames together.

   "Maybe I am." Evie sighed, sounding too raw and honest about it. She came out to see his eyes there. Tried to read them. Billy blinked to say something else.

   “So, you're already thinking about graduation and summer, huh? Moving quick.”

   “I’m optimistic is all. It’s a rare thing with me so I'm just enjoying it. I’m not used to happy and good.” Evie got cheeky to hide anything else, winking over her shoulder before she went inside the tiny store.

   Fluorescent lights washed out too many colorful packages. They picked cold cans of soda and bright yellow packs of Jujyfruit candies to curb a sweet craving. Billy gripped the paper bag in one fist and Evie snatched his free hand when they got outside.

   “C’mon!” She picked up the pace. “Let’s catch the bus to the other side of town.”

   “Billy Hargrove doesn’t take the bus. It’s all full.” He’d complained, still rushing after her to the stop.

   “Try something new.” Evie was giggling, tugging at him to get on.

   With the bus full of residents leaving work, they took some standing room with a group up front. Fingers curled into the handles above, swaying closer together due to the rocking and crowding. A hard turn sent Evie into Billy’s chest, her hand sprang out over his shoulder to catch the bar just above his head.

   “Trying to jump my bones in public, little Miss Fenny?” He feigned a look of awe, brows lifting playfully. His free arm slipped around the small of Evie’s back, bracing her there into his marble frame. “You know how much easier it is if you just ask, Angel?”

   Evie wanted to scoff. Wanted to scrunch that annoyed look she was known for. Wanted to send him to the floor and kiss him for miles and miles. But, she just stood there in the dim, flickering bus lights. Watched his expression relax. Not really breathing until she reminded herself. 

   Billy seemed to remember as well. At the back and forth shifting of the vehicle, they squished together. Forcing looks away to see the path again. Billy pushed his thigh further between her legs. Both of them idly rubbing together now. Evie felt the heat crawl up her cheeks, lungs tremoring. Billy’s fist holding the bag shifting a little lower on her back, firm and scalding hot. 

   She peered up at his jawline. Looked away. Felt Billy’s eyes wander back after before he flickered elsewhere. Denim pushed against denim. Billy hitched this breath as if he might whimper. Swallowed it down. Hips swaying back and forth and back again. A thumb pushed deftly into her back. Evie shifting in, lips parting. Trembling as Billy turned his head to see her centimeters from him. 

   “This is our stop.” She’d said in his ear. Leaning flush into him to pull the cord down. Billy inhaled the amber. Brushed his nose into her own while she came back out.

   “Don’t wanna stop.” His freckles looked especially glowy outlined in a rare blush. The bus skidded and Evie veered back with some amusement. Brown eyes casting Billy up and down before she skipped off in a hurry, leaving him to chase her because he’d always chase her. Bag still wrinkled around Billy’s fist, he caught up with her. Under the streetlamps surrounded by dancing moths. 

   “We near Lover’s Lake?”

   “Yeah, the park nearby. Figured some loitering would do us good.” Evie stepped across the grass and sand. Listened to the dark structures creak. “C’mon. I love the swings.” 

   She plopped back into one, legs kicking some before Billy joined her. He cracked one can of soda to offer it, feet shifting over the sand to sway closer together. Chains creaking. 

   They clicked drinks and guzzled fizz before Evie snagged the candy out. Stealing a few chewy pieces. The bright box got passed back and forth during a comfortable silence. Billy watched Evie as she observed the moon there. 

   “Do you know any constellations?” She’d asked quieter, forcing him out of the daze. Curls caught the illumination with stars dotting her dark eyes. 

   “Not really.” He took the candy back as she swallowed a piece.

   “You see that crooked line? Those four little guys, they call that...Salem’s Lot. And...” Evie touched her lips, pointing again. “Those two bright boys there. Called Shawshank. Oh, and that one-”

   “These are Stephen King references.” He pushed her.

   “No, I’m very smart and they’re real-life constellations. Listen and learn, Billy boy.”

   “So, are you gonna call that grouping, The Shining or The Overlook?” He pointed to a cluster and Evie snickered.

   “Obviously that’s Carrietta White’s Constellation. Duh. Cause it looks like a rain of blood.” Evie snorted and Billy joined her, heads pressing together as they giggled like school children.

   “You know she wears a crushed red velvet dress in the book? Not pink as seen in the movie.” Billy stretched out, finishing his soda.

   “You know she’s fat in the book, too?” Evie winked at him, eyed the trash, and tried to toss her can at it. Missing badly, it smacked the rim and fell in the sand with a clatter. “Damn it!” Billy laughed at her louder.

   “Don’t try for a career on the court, Evie.” He watched her pout as she plucked it up to throw it away properly. “Now, watch the master work.” He aimed as she sat down. One deft hand reeled back and launched it only to have Evie’s palm smack it easily the other direction. Almost falling out of her seat cackling, she got the candy pushed into her arm before he gawked and went to get it.

   “Oh,” she kept up without air, “I thought you were the master? You should have seen your face!”

   “Yeah, yeah.” He grumbled, dunking it in the can with an echoing clank. For some cheery consolation, she offered the rest of the box to him. Tiny candy pieces fell into his palm before he pushed them all into his mouth at once, eyes lifting to the sky again. Billy made a face and turned to go to push her swing. “Gimme another constellation.”

   “Hmm.” Evie held the chains, began to swing properly at his coaxing. Felt like they were in a secret garden together. Water rippling against the air distantly. Cold chill not bothering either of them. “Those two stars. The little one and the big guy. See?”

   Billy gripped the chains, keeping her swing up against him to follow the gaze

   “That’s Neverland. Second star to the right and straight on till morning.” She snickered again as Billy pushed her forward. “Bet I can beat you there. I’ll jump from the swing.”

   “You’re on.” Billy stole the seat next to her, both of them pumping higher. Curls fluttering. Laughing. Happy because they were together and that mattered.

   “I’m going to overthrow Pan and Hook. Become the most fantastic Lost Girl with a siren song to command the island and you’ll write your stories.”

   “Think so?” Billy pushed himself higher. Actually thought he might fly with Evie there.

   “Yes! You’ll tell the greatest stories ever heard through the land and they’ll echo back down here to be loved too.” She proclaimed that. Not having heard Billy’s stories, but believing what was in his heart. 

   Time slowed. Wild laughter crackled toward the sky. Utter sparks as they jumped together and collided to roll around the sand. Evie was still alight with joy under him, hair splayed everywhere as Billy snapped up to check her over, hovering. Evie’s giggling tapered off against the night air. She stared up at him. Framed in twinkling stars. He said something she didn’t catch.

   “You have beautiful eyes,” Evie sounded out slower, lost in the endless crystalline blue. “Did you mean it?”

   “Mean, what?”

   “What you said when we were lying in bed together. You said I was the best thing about this place. People never say things like that. Not to girls like me. I believed it when you said it though and it was easy too.” Evie skimmed her fingers over his jacket. Watched Billy’s eyes flicker to recall that moment and the clouds he floated upon like lily-pads in a pond.

   Billy swept down. Planted a hot kiss that was all lips. Swelled her mouth when he pulled out. He left Evie fluttered and came to her ear.

   “That was a yes.” He pushed up, eyes too sly. “By the way.” Evie took a hand when he offered one and got pulled to her feet, bodies stumbling together. They tried to brush the sand off fabric. 

   “Do you think about that night? The dance, I mean. Not...the sex. Well, I guess it’s okay to think about the sex actually.” She blushed there when Billy’s lip quirked. His fingers still wrapped around her wrist. “Before all that went down with Brock. It was-”

   “Not terrible.” He finished.

   “Not at all. The first part of the night, sometimes I wish we could go back and-”

   “Rewrite it.” Billy looked around, giving Evie a tug. He pulled her up on the metal roundabout, painted red and blue that was chipping away. “Hold on.” Another smile had curled as he braced to get it spinning.

   “Billy!” Evie jerked to hold tight to the bars. Hair flying up. Curls coiled out. Fire billowing gracefully. “What are you doing!”

   “Turning back the clock,” he charged and jumped on with her, wobbling to hold something, "to redo it.” Evie grabbed for his coat. Fisting the fabric when they locked eyes. Wind rushed in a thrill with memories tumbling together and apart. 

   Her wings sprang forth.

   Billy made Evie the still point to his turning world. For just a moment. Knew, if anything, that meeting her was something truly important. An unseen force that would twist his heart forever.

   Spinning round and round. He recalled the metallic confetti dancing and the way the music pulsed. The carousel began to slow, both teens holding the bars and each other to say level.

   Slower, Evie pecked a kiss upon his lips to mirror the first. Unable to come out far, Billy was already closing the distance for the second. Trying to pay her back with a thousand sweet kisses. 

   Cheers rang and fireworks burst. She remembered it all too. How dizzy and still the world seemed to be. How it hushed for her too sweetly. Billy’s hands on her face, cradling delicately to angle the second kiss a little deeper. They felt the metal clink to stillness under them and inched back out.

   “I want to go home with you,” Evie said the words she wished she had that night. Huge dark eyes glittering. She found his lips again. Not worried about air or what the future held for them. Lost on a rosy haze and perfectly fine for these stolen fleeting seconds. “Can we go?” Billy searched her, thumb sweeping a circle into her jaw. He smiled fully.

   “Only if we can take the bus again.”

** ** ** ** 

   “Happy Birthday!” Evie gushed, offering a gift to a small pile. Max had her arms around her before she’d gotten a chance to turn. One hand shifted to the shorter girl’s back. Music whirled with a campy light show, made the horribly patterned carpets glow. “Carol and Heather are on their way in. Tommy’s around but he won’t hang near the table.”

   “Neil’s going to be late. Work stuff.” This explained why Max’s smile was so bright. Evie nudged her chin, head cocking. “You brought your own skates.”

   “I know it’s dorky, but they’re my babies.” Evie gestured to the red skates swung over one shoulder. “Evie Fenny doesn’t rent her skates.”

   “That’s El, come meet her,” Max pulled Evie off after she got one wave at Susan behind the table setting up. “Billy’s grabbing stuff from the car. He drove us.” 

   El Hopper was a tiny thing. Almost like a little bird compared to Hopper’s hulking frame behind her. She peered around and seemed at instant ease upon seeing Max.

   “El, this is my neighbor, Evie," Max introduced them, "she’s cool.”

   El made this gesture like she had a needle and poked at her hand.

   “Yes!” Max got it, tugging Evie’s arm. “She taught me the felting thing.”

   “Hope the sharp objects weren’t a bother in your house, Chief Hopper.” Evie perked up at Jim with a sheepish expression. “I should have asked you, I know it might seem a little dangerous.”

   He actually laughed at that. If only she knew the danger these kids had gotten into prior.

   “Believe me, crafts are a welcomed change.”

   “El, nice to meet you. I’m Evie. Max talks about you all the time.” Evie held out her hand and the young girl looked shocked. “Good things.”

   A slower smile crossed. She took Evie’s hand to shake it. Awkward about her navigation but trying to take everything in. Clearly never been to a party like this one. Kids of various ages circled the floor on skates. Laughing. Holding hands. 

   “Max...talks about you too. I like your hair.” El mirrored. Peered to Hopper with a pleased expression he matched. She offered Max a wrapped gift. Evie grinned and touched her curls, pulled up into two high, rounded buns.

   “C’mon, let me show you the table they’re setting up.” Max took El’s wrist to usher her off.

   “Are you...staying to skate?” Evie turned to the Chief.

   “El’s, ah, not used to crowds. She came from some unfortunate circumstances. I’d like to stay close. First party. Maybe I’m hovering.” He pushed his hands into his pockets. Not in uniform. Evie beamed a little.

   “She’s young, you’re worried. It’s sweet, actually. You’re just being a good dad.” The smile seemed to dither in her eyes. Even when Jack was married to Mona, he wasn't always around. Work and trips kept him busy, but he stayed to close to Evie the moment he arrived home with his little gifts and endless stories. “Don’t come running over if she falls, we got her.”

   “Yeah, uh, if you could keep an eye on El when you see her around. That would mean a lot to me. I know you babysat the Henderson kid. El doesn’t need a babysitter, she’s just… This is new for her.” Jim gestured. Digging for a smoke he couldn’t have in the immediate area. 

   “Heather, Carol, and I will keep an eye out.”

   “Carol?” He chuckled. “Perkins?”

   “Oh, yeah, we made up. Funny thing.”

   “Almost as funny as you hanging out with the Hargrove boy through winter.” He quirked his brow.

   “What can I say, Chief...” Evie shrugged. “I’m...branching out.”

   As if on cue, Billy paced in a side door. Bag clutched under one arm. He caught Evie’s glance instantly. Both of them locked in and back out on cue. Blue eyes shifted up and down because she was wearing his denim jacket over a little lacy, floral top tucked into her jeans.

   Neil would arrive and they had an act to keep up. Ignoring each other.

   “I’ll sit far." Jim offered. "Pretend I’m not here.”

   She about cackled, lost in thought still.

   “I’ll just pretend you’re my real dad,” Evie winced at herself, saw him pause with some subtle awe, “oof, I’m not sure where that came from. Ouch. Okay. Walking away now. Sorry, Chief.”

   “Evie.” He eased a gentle hand toward her. “What I said. If there’s...anything going on. You can talk to me. On or off the record.”

   “Yeap. Right. I’m okay. I’m...I’m gonna...skate. Yeah. Sorry. Oh, my…” Evie whirled to hurry off, cringing all the way to the table. “I think I just had a mental break.”

   “What?” Heather had chuckled.

   “Nothing. Time to skate?” Came Evie’s begging. Agreement followed.

   Hopper made himself scarce with a cigarette and plate of cheese fries in the corner. Billy plopped himself into a chair behind the decorated table, looking disinterested. Not catching Evie’s eyes while she sat with the girls to put her skates on. Just watched Susan set out plates for pizza and cake. 

   Evie went out with Heather first for a lap, both of them giggling and pulling little stunts to show off for Tommy who was on the ground as Carol pulled at him. Max jumped over his leg, cackling before she tried to get El to come out with them. 

   “Kinda reminds me of us. They’re too cute.” Heather quipped, whirling to skate backward. They joined the younger girls, hoping to get El relaxed and away from the wall she seemed to cling to. Every turn, Evie shot Billy a look. Got his lips quirking before he ruefully was peering away. 

   “Do you want to skate, Billy?” Susan had asked after a beat, weary of the music already. Bit of a glittery disco mess. That same dreamy rose haze in the air.

   “About as much as I want to give my old man a sponge bath, Susan.” Billy frowned for effect and dropped it when she actually laughed at him. It was an easier thing for them to talk without Neil’s shadow. 

   “Well, the offer is open if you want to.” Susan thought to tell him Evie looked beautiful today when she caught him staring at her for the third time but decided not to be obvious. Not yet. 

   “You’re supposed to tell me I’m being inappropriate and I’m going to send your only daughter down with me.” He recited easily.

   “I was your age once, Billy, I know how to laugh still.” Susan seemed surprised at the revelation herself. Slowly, she took a seat next to him. Not leaving another chair as a buffer like she usually did. “It might not be so bad. Her following you, you know, after this. When she’s older. She still looks up to you.”

   It became clear what Susan was asking him. Max would resent her one day down the line. For the choices she made. The things she couldn’t stop no matter how hard she tried. Maybe Billy and Max didn’t always get along, but he’d be a safer place for her than whatever was leftover in that house. Susan would always be under Neil Hargrove, but she could ensure her daughter would not be. One day.

   Billy leaned forward on his elbows, palms rubbing. He felt for his ring and remembered it was hidden under Evie’s dipping sweetheart neckline. He didn’t say anything, but met Susan’s eyes.

   “Evie’s been a good friend to her.” Susan crossed her legs and sat back to watch the girls laugh. Slowly easing into the conversation. El wobbled, holding hands with Max and Evie to gain some speed. Heather was trying to help Carol steady poor Tommy. “Don’t you think so?”

   “I haven’t noticed.” Billy turned his head aside.

   “She’s very pretty. Kind. That’s all I’m saying. She and her mother, they’re nice neighbors to have on Cherry.”

   “Jesus, Susan, why don’t you date them both?” Billy shot up to go to the snack counter. Susan ghosted this smile after him, hands clasping. “Cheese fries. Jalapenos...Extra jalapenos.” He got his plate and turned to see Chief Hopper’s cigarette glow red. “You got any more of those? My pack is out and they don't have a machine in this joint.”

   Jim just eyed him.

   “I’m legal.” Billy puffed before a stick flicked across the table. “Camels. Unfiltered. Disgusting. Are you a flannel hobo of some kind with those?”

   The Chief gawked at him.

   “Don’t you smoke Reds? Baby’s first cigarette.”

   Billy matched him. Offended.

   “I’m smoking with the big boys, Hop. You should try it.”

   “You in a place to complain, kid?” Jim reached to take it back before Billy swiped, lighting up to puff. 

   “No, sir.” His lighter snapped shut. “You unable to cut the cord or is dressing like a lumberjack to hang out at a 70s roller disco a hobby?”

   “Haven’t seen you down at the station in a while. Few months, in fact. Turning over a new leaf this year?” Jim remarked instead, leaning forward on his elbows.

   “Aw. You miss me or something? Your boys finally get tired of chasing me down? Or trying to.” Billy gave this comedic pout, head turning to eye Evie again. Graceful swan that she was out there. His jacket hanging off her shoulders, exposing that neck. Little wisps of curls swayed about from her space buns decorated with matching glittery star barrettes, loose hair framing her face. Brown eyes flicked up and he snatched his gaze away. “Guess I found something else to get into that isn’t trouble. You guys bore me down there, I like to be amused.”

   “The real crime-stopper, boredom. Color me impressed and shocked.” Jim seemed to like that, eyes rolling. Billy puffed and swept a piece of tobacco from his mouth. “I guess whatever you’re doing, keep it up.” He watched Billy crunch on some salty jalapenos, plucking five gooey fries at once to swallow them down. Almost starved.

   “I intend to.” Billy flicked his greasy fingers to his brow. “Chief.”

   “William.” 

   Billy mumbled as he went off, finishing the smoke to flick it out a back door. Eyes shifting to watch the girls plus poor Tommy. El was already better than him.

   “Man, I’m dying out here. Help me. I’ll tag you in.” Tommy scrambled up the sidewall and clung, out of breath. Freckles all dewy.

   “You wanted to be a good boyfriend,” Billy cackled for good measure, "that'll teach you."

   “Feed me a fry,” Tommy begged over the barrier.

   “Fuck out of here, they’re mine. My dad will show soon so you can disappear to a corner and get your own damn fries.” To make it a point, Billy stood there and fed himself.

   Behind Tommy, Max skidded and fell with Evie barely catching her. Both girls had gone down in a fit of giggling.

   “We’re fine, go on!” Max waved to Heather and El ahead of them. Carol came to steal Tommy back as Billy craned to see his step-sister.

   “You alright?” Evie was picking her up when Max’s shirt slipped closer to her pale shoulder, flashing a burst of purple there the size of a softball. “Oh, my god.” It slipped out before she could stop it.

   “That’s-!” Max cut herself off and fixed her shirt. Spring was creeping and all she donned was long-sleeved and frumpy. Dressing almost like Susan. “I fell, you know, on my board.” Evie tried to give her the dignity of a look that said she believed it. Must have cracked. “Evie, it’s nothing. Don’t worry. Please.”

   Dressing like Susan. Sounding like Billy.

   “Max, my house is-”

   “I know, but don’t… Don’t say anything. Not to Billy or my mom, ah… Neil’s here.” Max put her head down and skated around Evie to go away. 

   There was something particularly helpless about watching a young girl flee obediently to her monster. Evie wondered if this was what she looked like to Billy headed to Fredrick's place.

   Small. Scared. Lost.

   Neil Hargrove started with words. Lots of horrible words that whittled Max down to a hard pit. Then pushing. Then some grabbing. Then shoving. Into walls mostly.

   The hit didn’t bruise Max. It was more of a swipe to make her go to her room for talking back. Whatever that meant to Neil. But, he was drunk and he caught her jaw with an open palm. That stayed red for the day until she snuck a pack of frozen peas, not wanting Susan or Billy to know.

   But, the swipe sent her into the dining room table. Left the violet petals bursting under her skin. Evie lost the urge to skate and came out. Saw Billy’s eyes again and paused to help Heather usher El out for food. 

   “You’re a natural.” Evie complimented which earned a full smile. El opened her mouth to speak before Billy appeared in front of them.

   “They’re making us sing.” He cocked his head, peering at El. “You’re the one with the funny name, aren’t you?”

   “Jane. But,” she seemed to have trouble staring at him for more than three extended seconds and pointed to her chest, “El.” Red crept across her cheeks. Billy towered over her, cocking a wider grin to play up the fact that she was all blushy for a pretty older boy.

   “El?” He raised one brow. “What’s the L stand for?”

   “Ignore him.” Heather pulled the younger girl around Billy as he chuckled, pausing to see Evie. Her colorless expression.

   “You okay?” He said it hard with a furrowed brow.

   “Fine.” She tried to make it sound cold but it came out near silent. Head turned down as she flitted around him to join the party.

   Neil, stiff and stoic, pressing his lips like he was at the damn DMV. Susan plastered a broader grin to dote on him after his long day, lingering close to his side as they set out pizza and readied the cake.

   It was all so routine. Like getting your shots. 

   Pizza. Sing. Candles. Wish. Cake. Gifts. Thank you.

   Billy and Evie took the farthest seats from each other. Played a game of glance and ignore that they’d made up on the spot. They both were either losing or winning.

   “Strange,” Neil remarked as he pulled Max aside for another slice. “You and the high school girls.”

   “Oh, I invited El too, she’s my age. I didn’t want to leave Evie out and the girls...they’re nice to me.”

   “They don’t dress like nice girls.”

   Heather and Carol both donned perfectly normal tees and jeans. Nothing would suffice for Neil Hargrove. Max shifted her cake around. No longer hungry for it.

   “Maybe we’ll talk about the type of girl you should hang around at a later time. The Fenny girl is nice enough, even if her shirt is a little too...low. Dresses kinda tight. Bit of an odd one. She’s different. Her friends, well...I’m just not sure, Maxine.”

   “Yes, sir.” She looked at her birthday cake like it was infested with worms. Carefully forced a bite and set it aside. 

   Max hung around. Smiled and thanked everyone after each birthday present. Even hugged Neil only cause he opened his arms at her. She said bye to El then Heather. Carol seemed to be turning in as well so Tommy went out back to get the car. 

   As the party went on and dwindled, Evie caught Billy’s eyes gesturing to the rental counter. He slipped around the corner into the many shelves and Evie turned back to see Max and Susan at the table. Neil seated in a chair not helping them clean up, eyes elsewhere. Casually, she skated around and got her arm snatched. A gasp snuffed against a pair of lips. Kisses hidden away from the world. 

   “Paid the kid a few coins and a threat to leave for ten minutes."

   Music vibrated the shelves. Evie put her arms around Billy.

   “I still have skates on.”

   “Even better. I might have a thing for girls in red skates.” Billy was all hands, holding Evie steady. Pulling one leg around his hip. Pushing denim into denim. Hot friction might have done her in any other day.

   “We are not hooking up with all the smelly rental skates.” Evie laughed into his lips, still pecking back and peering over her shoulder. She paused to see his eyes. Wanted to blurt what she’d seen on Max’s body. Even to Billy now, it felt wrong. So, she said something else.

   “Hey, we should…keep an eye on your sister, you know. It’s her birthday. She’s...She needs her big brother.”

   Billy huffed into her neck.

   “Fine, fine, but you’ll regret not taking the adventure on here.”

   “Yeah, I’m sure.” Evie shifted. “My feet hurt and we can make-out in my bed later.” She kissed his neck. “I’ll do that thing you like if you promise you went easy on the product down there.”

   “Only dotted the gold crown. Scout’s honor.” Billy winked and she rolled her eyes. He peered out first. “Give it a second then follow.”

   “Wait.” Evie thumbed her red lipstick from his mouth. “Now, shoo.” Billy licked his lips and snuck out. She waited a moment. Let the happy butterflies land in her stomach then followed. Pausing, her skates came off for more comfortable tennis shoes.

   “Evangeline, do you need a ride home with us later?” Neil had asked. 

   “No, thank you, I was getting a ride with Carol now.” She smiled and looked for red hair to say her goodbyes. “Where’d Max go?” Evie collected her coat and Susan paused to peer around.

   “She was here a second ago. Neil?” Hands dropped a stack of plates into the trash.

   “Probably went to the bathroom.” He shrugged, squinting at all the moving lights that were making his head pound. “Billy, go find your sister.” 

   Billy seemed to notice the look on Evie’s face and feel the same chill before he hurried off without fighting. Susan looked through the sea of kids and teens meandering as Evie passed her to check the ajar side door. 

   "Max!" The one flickering light at the exit made her skin crawl. A cry echoed distantly followed by a dull crash in the dark. Like a bag of trash hitting the dumpster.

   Evie dropped her skates to follow the hollowed-out sound. Exhaust swept up her nose and tires gave a harsh wail, horns sounding while a faraway car disappeared around a row of trees to get to the main street with the rest. 

   “Max!” Evie charged out. Heart painfully thudding within her ribs. 

   “Evie?” Carol heard her and footsteps echoed around the building.

   “Max!” Evie was near tears now. A shift in some fallen trash bags made her pause when two sneakers appeared around the side of the dumpster. This odd scratching sound left her lips. Evie threw herself over the tiny body there, turned Max’s limp frame over. 

   Her shirt collar was ripped open where someone grabbed her. Or tried to. Dragging then dropping her when she put up a fight. Bleeding scrapes and dirt scuffed all over her pale freckled skin from the rough tumble. Carol got to them first and pulled off her sweater to cover Max’s torso while Evie gathered her up. 

   “Help!” Carol called because Evie couldn’t. More bodies arrived. Tommy. Susan. Billy. Neil. 

   “Neil, she won’t wake up.” Susan pulled her daughter out of Evie’s arms, shaking her. Moans filtered out, but nothing else. “What happened?”

   “I don’t know. I saw...a car. It was too dark. I just found her here on the ground. Someone tried to...” Evie wheezed out and never finished, gesturing aimlessly. 

   “Susan, give Maxine to Billy. She needs a hospital.” Neil swept down as Billy urged his sister’s tiny body away. This hard. flamed expression on his face as if he wasn't really here.

   Max looked broken. Not real. A doll left under the bed for too long without love or cherished stories to comfort it. Evie felt the knees of her jeans soak through from the wet pavement. Too many words hit the air and Evie’s eyes dropped to where that harsh car had gone to.

   Evangeline wondered what kind of monster would grab up a little girl and throw her out into the trash.

   And why the world bore so many of that same design.

~~~~~

Mad Max :( Her story line is gonna start to push toward the front here and there with Evie's in pieces. Thanks again for following the fic, I really appreciate it! Please please leave some words if you enjoy the fic. XOXO Taglist open

TAGLIST:: @80sbxtch​ @nottherightseason @alagalaska @alongcamedolly @kellyk-chan @10blurredsmoke10 @charmed-asylum @unmistakablyunknown @lukespatterson @arkhamasylumpatient-blog1

[illfoandillfie]

Better Than Chocolates (Non-Daddy Version)

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Reader x Brian May

Summery: It’s your first Valentines Day together and Roger, ever the romantic, has a number of surprises in store.

Warnings: Smut (18+), some sickeningly sweet fluff mixed with some absolute filth oh my god. threesome, sir kink, dom/dom/sub dynamics, orgasm delay/denial, public teasing, public oral sex, oral sex (m and f receiving), face slapping, choking, spanking, spitting, hair pulling, double penetration, degradation.

Words: 13 572 (jesus christ)

A/N: This is a reupload of my latest fic but with the daddy kink stuff taken out! If you want to read the original version it can be found HERE

There were those who would call your relationship weird or wrong. The tabloids for one seemed to take endless enjoyment from criticising you and Roger, as did the nosey and bored. The age gap would have been enough to draw attention, much less the fact he was a world-famous musician and divorced. Phrases like midlife crisis and gold digger had been whispered behind your back and printed in black and white for anyone to read. And that was without any of them knowing that you’d met while on the arm of one of his best friends and bandmates. You could only imagine the trash they’d say about you if they knew the half of it. If they knew you’d caught Brian’s eye while out at a club and then found yourself in his bed for the next few nights. If they knew that he’d taken you out  and you’d run into Roger while on your way to a bar. An unknown number of drinks later and you found yourself between them, Brian’s hands expertly slipping into your underwear as Roger teased your nipples from over your shirt, his breath warm where he leaned into your neck. When you woke in the morning you had a hangover and marks all over your body, mostly hickeys but some were left by teeth and some by hands too. Gradually the night came back to you, the insistence for them to be rougher, the way they’d complied with your request, taking it in turns to pin you down. It was worth it even with the throbbing headache. And it left you hoping for a repeat at least, if not something more. The opportunity to take them at the same time, perhaps? You’d thought you lost the chance when you and Brian sort of fizzled out, mutually deciding it had been fun while it lasted but had gone as far as it was going to. A few months later you’d run into Roger again, playing along when he acted like he’d forgotten your name. You accepted his invitation to join him for a quick drink and then the invitation to join him for dinner and before you knew it you were dating for real, holding hands in public and being gossiped about in trashy magazines. If Brian was uncomfortable with the new development, he didn’t show it and Roger assured you that everything was completely fine, so you’d kept seeing him. Now, almost a year into the relationship, you were woken up as Roger climbed back into the bed you shared and snuggled in close to you. A glance at the bright numbers on the alarm clock told you it wasn’t as early in the morning as you would have liked.    “Y’gonna have to let me go soon,” you mumbled sleepily, “gotta get up for work in a bit.”    “Not t’day,” he said back, voice still morning rough as he dropped a kiss to your shoulder, “I called you in sick f’the rest of the week,”    “What?” You rolled over to face Roger, suddenly much more awake.    He cracked an eye open at you, though the other remained tightly shut, “you have a virus,” he shut his eye again.    You flicked his nose, “Rog, explain,”    He groaned and scrunched up his nose at the attack, “First Valentines together, got something special planned.”    “Valentines isn’t until tomorrow blondie,”    “Said it was special,” he pulled you tighter against him, “now go back to sleep, doctor’s orders.”    You rolled your eyes but snuggled into him, deciding it would be easier to get answers when Roger was more prepared to wake up. And really, who were you to say no to a lie in.    “Better,” he mumbled into your neck once you’d settled, “love you.”   

 It turned out to be harder to get Roger to explain than you’d thought it would be. He’d tried to surprise you in the past but usually got too excited about it to keep it to himself for long. But not this time. This time he changed the subject whenever you asked what he had planned or why you needed half a week off work for it. Leaning across the kitchen island, hands wrapped around a mug of coffee, you again tried to wheedle more information from him, putting every tool in your arsenal to use – his favourite pet names, whiney pleases, even a cheeky peak down your shirt.  “Y’know things’ll be more fun if you stop asking and let it be a surprise,” he said, leaning over the other edge of the island, not quite nose to nose.    “Surprises make me nervous,”    “I promise you’ll enjoy it. Now why don’t you go get changed, baby, I’ve booked us into a spa,”    “Is the spa part of it?”    “Could be,”    The way he grinned at you made you want to slap his shoulder and sink to your knees in equal parts but instead you settled on pushing yourself forward on your toes to close the gap between you, saying a soft thank you as you pulled back.”     “Don’t need to thank me,”    “Think I do. I didn’t really have anything planned for Valentines. The best I’d come up with was cooking you dinner. Maybe a box of chocolates.”   “What I have planned is so much better than a box of chocolates.”    “Well, I did also buy something fun to wear,”    “You mean the teddy I found in the cupboard? The red one with the hearts?”    “Roggie! You saw?”    “You didn’t hide it that well,”    “I thought I had,” you pouted.    “If it’s any consolation, seeing it on the hanger gave me a semi, so imagine what seeing you in it is gonna do to me.”    “That is the fun part,”    He leaned in to kiss you again, softly, though his voice was closer to a growl when he spoke, “Mmhmm, definitely the fun part.”   

Upon arriving at the spa you realised your expectations were set way too low. A massage was all you’d been thinking of – in an out in and hour and a half and then home again to have a late lunch and maybe fool around a bit. But then the ridiculously calm and beautiful woman at the reception desk said the words full Valentines package and Roger had confirmed it, squeezing your hand just a little tighter. You shouldn’t have been surprised really, Roger made no secret about how much he enjoyed spoiling you. Whenever you protested, he’d just shrug and say you were his favourite thing to spend money on, although sometimes he’d add on “after the cars”, grinning at you like he’d made the world’s funniest joke. A luxurious spa day wasn’t anywhere near the most extravagant thing he’d bought you, and it definitely left you feeling completely indulged and pampered. It started with you both stripping to your bathers and being led to a private steam room, a range of muds and scrubs left for you to try. You imagined the intention was for it to be romantic and maybe just a little bit sexy – gently rubbing the different pastes into each other’s skin – and it kind of started that way with Roger’s firm hands on your shoulders, smoothing out a thick blob of something or other he’d picked at random. But then, in trying to reciprocate the gesture, you inadvertently flung some towards Roger which led to him smearing a handful over your face and any chance of soft sexiness was gone in a burst of squeals and giggles and curse words.    “Probably for the best,” Roger said when you pointed out another couple in the hall towards the baths, finger tracks of mud over every inch of bare skin and eyes locked in a nauseatingly gooey way, “would have ended with some poor bastard who works here walking in on something entirely inappropriate.”   Roger was almost correct. The scrubs were washed off under showers, Roger turning you to check your back was free of goop, his fingers making goosebumps rise despite the warmth of the water, before you returned the favour. And then you were left to relax and float around in a perfectly temperate pool.     “Christ this is nice,” Roger said after a short while. He’d never much been one for silence.     You just hummed your agreement, eyes closed as you felt your body relax, muscles loosening, worries disappearing.     “I’ll take it that means you’re enjoying yourself,”    “Mmhmm,”    “Are you ever going to say more than monosyllabic noises again?”    “Mmhmm is two syllables,”    A splash of water hit you from where Roger was.    “Hey!” you finally opened your eyes only to find him holding his hands up, a look of false innocence plastered over his face.    “Sorry, baby, accident,”    “Somehow I don’t believe you,” you shook your head but couldn’t hide your amused smile, “And I think you need to kiss me to make up for it.”    “If you insist,” he laughed as he caught your hand and pulled you through the water, backing up until he hit the pool wall which gave you the chance to hook your legs around his hips and your arms around his neck. The goosebumps returned as his hands slid down your sides, drops of water running from them, and he found your lips in a soft, unhurried kiss. The moment stretched on, neither of you interested in anything outside of your warm bubble, and you were still wrapped up in each other when the door opened, another beautiful woman striding into the room to disrupt you.     “Mr Taylor, Ms Y/L/N, your masseurs are ready for you. If you’d like to take these robes and follow me,”    “Thank you,” Roger still seemed a little distracted, but he let you go free, although not without giving your bum a small squeeze first.     You smiled at the woman as you wrapped yourself up in the soft fluffy robe and followed her out of the room and down a hallway.    Roger caught your hand as you walked and leaned towards your ear so only you could hear him, “D’you reckon you’d have to be ranked on an attractiveness scale to get a job here or is there something in the water?”    “God I hope it’s the water. Wonder if any of them would be interested in joining us one night,” you raised your eyebrows suggestively.    “Have I told you I love you?”    “Yes, but I’m happy to hear it again.”   

The massage was the part you’d been expecting but, even so, you were pleasantly surprised when you were told, in a calm soothing voice, that it was a hot rock massage, ideal for relieving muscle tension and stress. The room smelt faintly of roses which only served to calm you further, until your breathing was deep and even. Roger was on the table beside you, sighing as his masseuse gave extra attention to his shoulders and upper back, per his request. Drumming wasn’t necessarily easy on his body but a massage every so often helped. You had a stash of oils and lotions at home that you pulled out whenever he needed to ease the tension in his back or his legs or his wrists and fingers, but there was no denying how incredible a professional massage was. And being able to share the experience was even better. It certainly made it easier to endure Roger’s whispered jokes, filthy of course, when you were told a facial was next. That was followed by a manicure and that by a pedicure. Finally, you were led to the last part of the package. Two glasses of champagne and a chocolate brownie shaped like a heart awaited you by a tub large enough for both of you, full almost to the brim with rose petal infused water – one last chance to relax together before the real world came knocking. It was perhaps a little too full, some of the water spilling over the edge as you both climbed in and settled, Roger pulling you against his chest and handing you one of the glasses.    “So, my love, did you enjoy it?” Roger’s voice was soft, his fingers softer, stroking your shoulder as you leaned against him.    “So much,”    “Good,”    “Almost a shame to have to go home after all this,”    “Well, I guess I have some good news for you then,”    You sat up and turned to look at Roger quizzically.    “This was just the beginning of your surprise, I’ve got a few more things up my sleeve but we have to go on a small flight to get them.”    “A flight? Where to?”    “Well now that would be spoiling things and you know I’m not going to do that. I’ve already packed our suitcases and they’re in the back of the car.”    “When the fuck did you organise all this?”    “Oh y’know, here and there. Took me a few months to get it all sorted but it was nothing. It’s worth the effort to make you happy,”    “Rog I would have been happy with a couple of drinks and a good fuck,”    “Believe me, that’s coming. But I wanted to do something proper romantic for you. Best boyfriend ever, right?”    “Without a doubt,” you leaned in to kiss him hard.   

  ***    

 “Can you give me a hint about where we’re going?” you asked as you walked through the airport, dragging your suitcase with one hand, your other entwined with Roger’s.    “No,”    “Oh c’mon,”    “Love, I’m this close to blindfolding you and plugging your ears so it won’t be spoiled.”     You rolled your eyes at Roger’s determination to keep you in the dark and dropped the subject, letting him steer you towards a nearby coffeeshop. The opportunity to find out the truth arose while he was distracted with the menu, sunnies firmly in place so he could read the signage, boarding passes almost forgotten where they stuck out the top of his bag. With a quick glance to make sure he wasn’t about to turn around, you bent a little to examine the tickets and found the name of the destination.    “Crete? As in Crete, Greece?” you asked, louder than you’d intended as you stood up straight again.    Roger turned and held his hands up in a gesture that clearly said what the fuck.    “You can’t blame me for wanting to know, Roggie. Fucking maddening being stuck with all your ‘guess again’s and ‘that’s not its’.”    “Fucking maddening organising all this. Least you could do is play along,” he crossed his arms over his chest, ignoring the people in the queue turning to look at him, a tell-tale pout appearing on his face, the first warning sign of a potential tantrum.     “No need to sulk, Rog. If you’ve done as much as you’ve hinted then I’m completely in the dark about the rest of it.”    “I’m not sulking,”    Before you could answer back the speaker overhead crackled a staticy call for your gate number, loud enough to make you cringe, and Roger grabbed you by the hand, swearing under his breath. Being first class passengers you had plenty of room to stretch out as you waited for the plane to fill, a luxury you’d never have dreamt of before you met Roger. Brian had never had cause to fly you anywhere, so it had never come up.    “So, how come Crete?”    “A few months ago you mentioned wanting to go to the beach,” he shrugged, still sounding a little grumpy, “figured that since I was already spoiling you I might as well pull out all the stops.”    “Y’know, if this got printed in a magazine it’d only fuel all those sugar daddy rumours,”    “Who fucking cares what they think.”   “I’ll remind you you said that next time you’re going on about parasites in the press,” You turned your head towards the window and the view of the runway, able to feel Roger’s gaze on you.    “View’ll be better once we’re in the air,” he said, nudging your shoulder.     “Yeah no shit,”    “You should be nicer to me considering everything I’ve organised,”    “Once the plane takes off you can follow me to the bathroom and I’ll show you just how nice I can be,”    “Naughty,”    “Naughty, nice, whichever way you want, Roggie,”    “Keep it down, love. Or I might start to think you get a kick out of the sugar daddy rumours. Besides, we definitely don’t want anyone to get jealous hearing how filthy you are,”    “Might need to gag me then,”    Roger’s hand tightened on the armrest and his voice was a warning rumble when he spoke, “Y/N,”    “Roger,” you imitated his tone.    “I don’t want to have to tell you again to keep quiet,”    “What’ll you do if I don’t stop?”    He paused for a moment, eyeing you up as he thought, “Think I’d have to edge you for a while.”    “Is that all?”    “Believe me, it’d be worse than it sounds. I know you’re picturing an edge or two before I give in, but I’d make sure it was much more than that,” his voice seemed to get lower with each sentence, sending a shiver down your spine, “See, I have something in mind for tomorrow night. It’ll be fun regardless, but it’ll be more fun if you’re a desperate mess. So edges is all you’ll be getting for now. And if you can’t behave yourself then you’ll be getting them right here in this seat. I knows my little slut can have trouble staying quiet when she’s being edged but it’s a risk I’m willing to take.” Roger’s tone would have been enough to make you listen, it didn’t leave you any choice, but add into the mix the content of his statement, and the way his voice dropped into a quiet gruffness so as not to be overheard, and you were practically whimpering. You quietly crossed your legs, pressing your thighs together. Roger glanced down at them and then back at your face, an eyebrow slightly raised, and for half a second you thought he’d throw out another teasing remark to push your buttons and rile you up. Instead he just smiled, face softening completely, and took your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm.   

He kept up the game for most of the flight, the hours stretching as he shifted from sweet to teasing and back again, fast enough to have your head spinning. In one second he’d notice you were feeling chilly under the air conditioning and wave down a stewardess to get you a blanket, and in the next he’d be spreading it over both your laps and commenting on how it would help hide his hand when he checked how wet you were. He’d pull you into his side, drop a kiss to your temple, as you watched a movie, only to slip his fingers under your shirt and rub teasing patterns on whatever skin he could subtly reach. And, though he’d hinted at it, he never once followed you to the bathroom or let his fingers wander anywhere inappropriate, which left you almost tense with anticipation and want. Finally, hours after taking off, you landed, thankful the torture was over for the moment, and collected your luggage. It was dark outside of the brightly lit airport, night having fully settled while you’d been in the air. There was a short wait as Roger collected the car he’d rented, always hating to be without easy transport, but soon enough you were on your way, making a short stop to pick up a quick dinner before you arrived at your accommodation. A large villa awaited you, a little off the road, hidden by a pocket of trees on one side and sand dunes on the other. The automatic security lights flicked on as you approached, illuminating the white walls and bright garden out the front. Once inside Roger fumbled around for the light switch and, upon finding it, led you into the living room. It was spacious but nicely furnished and stretched out with doorways leading to more rooms in every direction.    Leaving your luggage by the front door, you made a beeline for the doorway to your right and found yourself in the kitchen. One wall was mostly taken up by a large window that you were sure would show you a view of the ocean once it was light enough to see. The rustle of plastic bags being placed on the kitchen counter was the only indication that Roger had followed you, until you felt his hands wrap around your waist and his head buried in the crook of your neck.    “You smell nice” his breath tickled your skin as he spoke, and you couldn’t help but laugh a little.    “You sure that isn’t the food?”    “‘m sure,”     “You smell nice too, blondie.”    He hummed appreciatively into your neck, squeezing you tighter, “s’pose we should eat before the food gets too cold.”    “Probably a good idea.”    “Okay, yeah, I’m pretty hungry,” he said though made no move to release you.    “Gotta let go of me if we’re gonna eat, Roggie,”    “Don’t wanna.”    “You’re such a baby sometimes,” you laughed, trying to pry his fingers loose.    “You’re a baby, I’m just here because you looked cold,”    “And who’s fault is that? Couldn’t have taken me to a beach with beachier weather? A tropical island perhaps?”    “Perhaps I should have,” he said as he let you go and moved to unpack the boxes of takeout, “could have had hours longer to tease you before we landed.”    You paused, considering how the time might have been spent and just how desperate you would have been at the end of it, “Tropical islands are overrated,”    Roger chuckled and handed you a plate, “Think I saw a fireplace in the lounge, so we can warm the place up a bit. Although I do like having an excuse to cuddle you.”   

In the end he found a midway point. Roger got a fire burning but, when he returned to the couch, he sat so his legs stretched out over your thighs, knees slightly bent, plate balanced on his lap. He flicked the TV on but mostly talked over it until you were both ready to hop into bed. From the bedroom you could clearly hear the waves lapping against the shore, though just thinking about the water made you feel a little colder. It didn’t matter so much once you’d piled multiple blankets onto the bed and Roger had climbed in beside you. He was always warm. Especially when he shuffled closer, pressing himself against your back and throwing an arm over you. You sighed contentedly and placed your hand over his, slipping your fingers into the spaces between his own.    “You excited for tomorrow, my love?”    “Of course,”    You felt his chest shake as he chuckled, “good, me too.”    “Still not gonna tell me what you have planned?”    “Absolutely not,”    “Not even a little hint?”    “Mmmm okay, one hint. Dinner will be involved.”    “Well I’d assumed that much.”    “Alright, alright, I’ll give you a proper hint. Ummm,”    “Take your time,”    “Oh shush, I don’t want to give it away entirely. Oh, okay, that thing you want is going to happen.”    “What the fuck does that mean? Which thing? You sound like a bad fortune cookie.”    “That’s all I’m saying.”    “God this is worse than knowing nothing.”    “Night baby,”    “You expect me to be able to sleep? C’mon Roggie, just tell me,”    “Y’know you should really get some rest. I want tomorrow to be really special and you’re going to need your energy to handle everything I want to do to you.”    You could tell he was smiling, even if you couldn’t see it, barely keeping his elation at being able to tease you so easily in check. And it had been ridiculously easy to get your pulse racing as your mind ran through every possible scenario he could be insinuating, “Maybe you should give me a small taste now, help tire me out,”    “You don’t want that, darling, it’ll just get you all frustrated and keep you up longer. Besides, I want to be as well rested as possible too. So close those pretty eyes and go to sleep.”    You groaned as you were once again left with nothing to satisfy you. Even pressing yourself harder against Roger didn’t get you anything other than a slight squeeze of your fingers.    

***    

Roger let you sleep in, stopping the alarm he’d set before it could wake you too and then quietly disentangling himself from where you’d rolled over and curled into his chest. He’d meant what he said about making the day special, hurrying off to set everything up before you woke. When you did finally stir it was at the sound of his footsteps coming back towards the bedroom, his head poking around the doorway the first thing you saw.    “Oh, you are up, don’t move I’ll be back in a second.”    You were still groggy with sleep, barely registering what Roger had said as you pushed yourself to sit and rubbed your eyes. But he didn’t take long to return, carefully laying a tray over your lap before leaning down to kiss you.    “Morning my love,”    “What’s all this?”    “Breakfast, obviously. Took an early run to the shop so I could make the first of the surprises I have in store for you. Or the second I guess, if we’re counting the spa.”    The tray was laden with food of all different sorts, a bowl of yoghurt topped with fruit, scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast, a small stack on their own plate with a selection of condiments in case you wanted something simpler. Plus a cup of coffee. And, in the middle of it all, a small vase with a blue flower sticking out of it.    “All of this is for me?”   “No one else here, is there. I mean, I can help you eat it if you want,” he picked a berry out of the yogurt and popped it into his mouth.   You smiled at Roger and picked up the vase, “I’ve never seen a flower like this before,”    “I found it in the garden out front. I’m sure the person who owns this house won’t mind me stealing a couple. Not sure what type it is are but it’s pretty, right?”    “Very pretty.”    “Go on, cold eggs aren’t anywhere near as good,” he took the vase from your hand, sitting it carefully on the bedside table.    You replaced the vase with the knife and fork, gladly attacking the pile of food. Roger stole a piece of toast from the top of the pile and took a bite, sitting back against the foot of the bed, “is it all okay? I didn’t burn anything too bad?”    “It’s delicious Rog. Way too much for me to eat on my own but very tasty.”    “Well I wasn’t sure what you’d want so I figured I’d give you some options, chuck us another bit of toast?”    He only just caught it, almost losing it over the side of the bed, sending both of you into a fit of laughter. He shuffled closer after that, picking at the breakfast with the spoon he’d brought up for the yoghurt, sometimes offering you bites or taking what was on your fork. Eventually you’d both had your fill though and he took the tray from you.    “You relax here, I’ll go wash the dishes,”    “Roggie, you don’t have to do that. You made breakfast, I’ll wash up.”    “You want to?”    “It’s your valentines too, I’d like to do something even if you insist on keeping it all a big secret.”    “Alright, but only because the faster we clean, the faster we can go down to the beach.”   

 The window in the kitchen drew your eye instantly. You’d been right when you guessed it would show you a glimpse of the beach but your imagination hadn’t quite got it right. The call of the gulls as they landed on the rocks a little way out in the ocean, the clear blue of the water, the little path off the sand that led to a set of white stone steps that led past the villa towards the back patio.     “You think it was worth the flight, even with not completely beachy weather?”    All you could do was nod, still trying to take in the view.    Rog laughed softly as he placed the tray down and leaned on the counter, still watching you, “we can go down in a bit, once this is cleaned up. Might be there’s another surprise down there.”    If anything was going to get you moving it was that, curiosity burning within you as you tried to think what he might have planned, what the thing he’d hinted at the previous night could be. Roger did his best to distract you from the task, wrapping his arms around you while you ran a sink of hot soapy water, letting his fingers linger on your skin as long as possible, just because he could. He did dry the dishes as you washed them though, and then sent you off to finish your morning routine and get changed with a kiss. When you were ready, shorts and a button up you’d stolen from Roger pulled over your bathers, he told you to go on ahead.    “Just follow the path, you’ll find the spot no trouble.”    There was some slight trepidation as you set off. You knew the path ended at the edge of the beach, so you hoped the direction to where Roger had set up was as obvious to you as it was to him. Out the back door, down the clean white steps, pausing to glance up at the kitchen window where Roger made a shooing motion so you’d keep moving. When you reached the edge of the sand you found an arrow drawn in front of you, pointing out where to go.   You didn’t have to walk far along the otherwise deserted beach before you found the place Roger had set up. It was marked by a bright beach towel, laid out on the sand, plus a couple extras stacked beside it in case you wanted to swim. Atop the towel sat another of the blue flowers he’d stolen from the front garden, this one sticking out of a tall glass he’d stolen from the kitchen. You took a seat, digging your feet into the sun warmed sand, and waited for him to join you. Now that it was closer to midday you felt the warmth better than you’d done during the night, although the cool breeze that blew in off the ocean almost had you wishing you’d grabbed a cardigan. Perhaps it was too cold to swim. The sound of Roger’s voice made you look around as he treaded over the sand towards you, wearing brightly patterned shorts and a red tank top, arms full of what looked to be bottles though you couldn’t quite make them out.     “Here take these,” he said when finally within reach, handing you first two cocktail glasses stacked together, and then a bottle of peach schnapps and a bottle of vodka, “thought we could treat ourselves to a little sex on the beach…on the beach.”    “Never one for subtlety were you?”    “Never one for appreciating my genius were you ?” he nudged your side with his toe before depositing the rest of the bottles on the towel and sinking to his knees to mix the drinks, making as much of a show of it as he could. When he was done and you were both holding your glasses, he sat back beside you, knees and shoulders bumping together as he leaned back on one hand.    “Cheers,” you clinked your glass against his.    “Happy Valentines, baby,”   

The alcohol certainly helped you stop feeling the chill on the breeze, as did Roger’s own body heat as he shuffled closer, your head falling onto his shoulder. For a while you just sat and watched the waves, laughing together and enjoying your drinks, until Roger decided a swim sounded like a brilliant idea and hurriedly began stripping off down to his briefs. You were on the verge of following him into the water when a loud “fuck!” rang through the air and he stumbled backwards away from the waves rushing at his feet.    “It’s fucking freezing!”     You couldn’t stop the giggle that rushed up your throat, earning a glare from Roger.    “Was that a laugh?” he was barely holding back his own amusement, “Were you laughing at me?”    “Maybe,” you poked your tongue out at him.    “Right, well, let’s see how you like it, then,”    Before you could properly register what was happening he had his arms around your wrists, pulling you to your feet and towards the waves as you struggled to break free. You managed to break his grip, darking away from him but he took chase, sprinting after you in an attempt to heard you into the waves. His legs were longer than yours and he managed to catch you, dragging you towards the edge of the water.    “You are so fucking in for it,” he said, out of breath with exertion and laughter.    “In for it how?” you tried to wriggle free again but his grip stayed firm.    “In for it in every conceivable way,” his voice was lower, closer to your ear, “but you already know what I do when I need to teach a brat to behave. And how much fun I have doing it.”    You whimpered involuntarily, knees suddenly weak as Roger stopped and turned you to face him. He took you by the chin, tilting your face upwards a little.     “Three. Two. One.”    You squealed as the icy water ran over your feet, jumping back out of the way as Roger laughed and flopped down beside the towels again.    “Prick,”    “Love you too. Come ‘ere, baby,” he held out his hand.    When you made no move to join him he pouted up at you, his fingers moving towards his palm in a ‘come here’ motion.    “Oh, alright,” you took his hand, letting him pull you down onto his lap, his arms encircling you automatically.     Roger leaned forward to snatch the flower from its makeshift vase and tucked it behind your ear, “I am so lucky I met you.”    “You’re just saying that so I’ll forget what just happened,” you buried your face in his neck, a little embarrassed to be talked about so earnestly.     “I mean it though,” he said softly, stroking your hair, “you’re incredible and I can’t imagine how I got on before I met you. And I know it’s not always easy being with me, I can be a right arsehole sometimes and then there’s the press and all that, but every day I get to wake up next to you is a good day.”    “I feel the same,” you whispered back, hand slipping up to his cheek as you leaned in to kiss him, partly to save yourself the awkwardness of being so gently praised. He didn’t seem to mind though, smiling against your lips, arms tightening around you as he lay back on the sand and pulled you down with him.         ***   

You only decided it was time to head back to the house when the tide had come in enough that the cold water was lapping at your toes, hurrying to collect all the bottles and towels Roger had brought down before they got too wet or washed out to sea.     “I can’t believe you didn’t bring a fucking bag or a basket or something.”    “I stand by my choices.”    “Oh yeah? Even the one about not touching me properly?”    “Baby, we just spent I don’t know how long making out in the sand, I’ve been touching you plenty.”    “But not properly.”    Roger let out a self-pleased hum as he followed you up the stairs.    “Don’t think I didn’t notice how into it you were getting just now, you’re shorts don’t hide it that well. Might be time to reconsider your choice…I assume we have time before dinner.”    “We do but it’s not happening. You’re fun when you’re frustrated and needy.”    You groaned, elbowing through the unlocked back door a little harder than you perhaps should have.    “Look, think of it like this,” Roger said, dumping his armful of things on the first clear surface he saw, “it’s like at Christmas when you know you’ve got a big lunch coming so you don’t eat much beforehand so you’re not full when you get to the main meal.”    “That’s stupid.”    “Alright, think of it this way then, it could be a whole lot worse. I could tie you up and leave you without so much as a kiss for the rest of the day. Now why don’t you go and wash off the sand. Take you’re time and have a good soak and let me know what you think of the surprise I left on the bathroom sink.”    He leaned forward to peck you on the forehead before turning and leaving you a little confused and a lot curious. You made your way towards the en-suite, spotting a small box tied up in a red ribbon as soon as you walked in the door. Without a second thought you untied the bow and slipped the lid off. Inside sat a shiny silver plug, similar to the one you had at home except brand new and sporting a red jewelled end that caught the light as you picked it up. And there, lined up with the soaps and scents taken from your bathroom back at home, a bottle of lube. You swallowed thickly, absentmindedly squeezing your thighs together. This was the first real clue you’d gotten as to what Roger was planning. It was exciting to say the least, though you still weren’t sure how it connected to the other clue he’d given you.    

When you’d finally deemed yourself clean enough you left the bathroom, wrapped up in a fluffy towel. Roger was stretched out on the bed, a book in his hand though his eyes didn’t seem to be focused on the page.     “So what’d you think? Has it got you wondering what I’m going to do to you?” he asked slyly, closing the book and throwing it carelessly onto the bedside table.    “Maybe a little,” you admitted, laying on your front beside him, “but I think I can work it out.”    “Baby you’ve got no idea what you’re in for tonight. You gonna show me how it looks?” he leaned forward, reaching for the hem of the robe but you rolled away from him, onto your side.    “Nope. If I have to wait so do you,”    “Touché,” he chuckled, “In that case, I’m going to go have a shower too.”    “How long before I have to start getting ready for dinner?”    “A few hours,” Roger shrugged.    “And you definitely don’t want me to join you in the shower?”    He laughed, “Nice try, but no. You should just relax for a bit.”    “Oh alright,” you sighed, not entirely sure how to kill the remaining time. Still wearing your robe, you decided to explore the villa properly. You hummed to yourself as you walked from room to room, checking out which ones had the best views, half wondering if Roger had hidden any other surprises around the house or left something that might give you a clue as to what you should expect that night. The thought of what was coming had your breath coming harder and your imagination running wild with thoughts of how Roger could fuck you in each of the rooms. The plug definitely didn’t help, only a small taste of what you should expect but a powerful one. But you found nothing other than a guest bedroom, bed fully made up, and the knowledge that turning the shower on in the second bathroom would mess with the temperature of the shower in the en-suite and that Roger’s shout could be heard rooms away. Roger was in the kitchen when you got back to it, examining the contents of the fridge.     “You wanna go for a drive?” he asked over his shoulder when he heard you approach, “Not far since we’ll have to come back and change, just do a bit of sightseeing or something.”    “Sounds fun.”    “Okay cool, meet you at the car in like five minutes?”    You nodded and hurried off to throw on some actual clothes.    

Roger kept his hand on your knee as he drove, only moving it back to the gear stick when he had to. True to his word he didn’t take you too far, following a road that ran along the coast until he found a small rest stop to pull into that overlooked the ocean. Upon spotting a couple of viewfinders he dug around in his wallet for loose change, smiling as he handed you a coin. There wasn’t a whole lot more to see that you hadn’t already but you laughed as you spun the viewfinders around first to try and spot the villa you were staying in and then towards the nearest city, trying to describe what you saw so the other could find it too. When the time on the viewfinder ran out Roger led you back towards the car, pulling himself to sit on the hood and patting the spot next to him. His arm wrapped around your shoulders and he pulled you into his side as he leaned back against the windshield. It was peaceful and calm, only a few cars passing by, both of you talking in low voices as if you’d break the atmosphere by raising your voices too much. Slowly the sun began to sink lower, turning the sky a pinky orange, and the temperature began to drop, making you grateful for Roger’s embrace.     “S’pose we should go back,” he almost whispered into your hair, “Wouldn’t want to miss our reservation.”    You hummed in agreement, “Wouldn’t want all that taunting about surprises to go to waste either, or the present I’m currently wearing.”    He laughed at that, giving you a squeeze, “definitely don’t want to waste that. God we’re going to have fun tonight.”    “I hope so. Been wet since I put the fucking thing in so it better be worth it.”    Roger laughed again, louder, as he slid off the hood and held out his hand for you, “That is so good to know.”   

  ***    

“The teddy you bought is hanging in the bedroom cupboard with some of your clothes from home, I think they should all cover it. Also, your makeup bag is on the nightstand.” Roger said as you pulled into the driveway.    “You really thought of everything,”    “Well I wasn’t going to half arse it, was I?”     You left Roger to get changed, pulling the teddy you’d bought weeks earlier from the cupboard as soon as you reached the bedroom. It was tight fitting, red and lacy with a heart shaped cut out over each nipple and your bum. Seasonal and sexy, Roger was going to love you in it and love getting you out of it. You flicked through the options he’d packed, mostly dresses and all on the fancier end of your wardrobe. Eventually you settled on a black velvet dress with a flared skirt, picking out a pair of heels to match and red lipstick in the hopes it would remind Roger of what you were wearing under the dress and perhaps get you out of dinner a little faster. You were working on your makeup, adding a thick layer of mascara to your lashes, when Roger knocked on the door and came in.    “You look phenomenal,” he said, stepping up behind you and dropping a kiss to your cheek.   “You think this is good, you should see what I’m wearing underneath,”   “You have no idea how excited I am to find out,” he laughed as he turned to reach into one of the draws of the nightstand, “Just one thing missing.”    “Holy shit, Roger,” it was all you could think to say when you caught sight of the necklace he was holding up. A teardrop of what you could only assume was actual ruby dangled from the chain, making I hard to look away or form a coherent thought as Roger draped it around your neck and fixed the clasp. The one clear thought you could come up with was that the ruby looked awfully similar to another jewel you were wearing, and you were sure that had been deliberate.    “It suits you,” he said softly, leaning down so his chin was on your shoulder, arms around your waist, “matches.”    You felt your cheeks grow warmer as he seemed to read your mind but tried to push the thoughts away, dragging a finger over the jewel, “It’s beautiful.”    “I’m glad you like it.” He pressed another kiss to your cheek before stepping back to find his own clothes, leaving you to finish your makeup.   

  ***    

The restaurant was full when you arrived, loved up couples sitting at every table, dressed to the nines in their fanciest frocks. Your waiter chatted pleasantly with you as he led you upstairs and out onto the veranda, telling you they’d already had two proposals happen and another three men had asked for rings to be placed in champagne glasses. You gave Roger a quick look, but he just shook his head. Lanterns lit up the length of the veranda, and every table you passed was decorated with a vase of red and pink roses. Except the one you stopped in front of which had a handful of the blue flowers from the villa amongst the roses.   “Here we are, and – oh, so sorry, Mr Taylor, there seems to have been a mix up, I’ll have the extra chair removed for you.”    “No, no mix up, we requested the third chair, thank you.”    “Very well, here are your menus, I’ll be back in a few moments to take your orders.”    Roger pulled your chair out for you as the waiter walked off, but you were more than a little distracted by the extra place setting, “what’s that about?”    “What’s what about?”    “The chair. Roggie, what’s going on?”    “Nothing’s going on. Should we get a bottle of wine or champagne?”    “Umm,” you were still curious about the chair and he was clearly trying to draw your attention elsewhere.    “S’pose it depends what we order really, what d’you reckon?”    “Sorry I’m a bit late,” a man said as he dropped into the seat, looking from Roger to you and back again, “what’s wrong with her?”    “Brian?”    “Were you expecting someone else?”    “I wasn’t expecting anyone,” you rounded on Roger who was grinning from the other side of the table, “is this the fucking surprise you were talking about?”    “You didn’t tell her?”    Roger shrugged, “thought it’d be more fun this way.”    “What if she’s not into it though? Jesus Christ Rog.”    “What wouldn’t I be into?”    “You worry too much Bri, she’ll be into it. Two months ago we went out for a couple of drinks, Y/N here had a little more than that and told me some very interesting things.”    You didn’t know who to look at, eyes darting between them as you tried to remember what you’d said while you were drunk.    “Seems like the little slut’s been getting off thinking about having us both again. Once wasn’t enough for her.”    A gasp escaped you, audible over the general noise of the restaurant, and you clapped a hand over your mouth too late.    

You barely remembered ordering or your food arriving, still trying to get your brain to comprehend what was happening. It didn’t help that Roger began explaining in detail what It was you couldn’t remember telling him, though everything certainly lined up with a lot of the fantasies you’d entertained yourself with.    “Should have heard her though, Bri, oh Roggie it’s not fair. I wish you’d both used me at the same time. Can’t stop thinking about it, you fucking my arse while he fucks my pussy. Or the other way around. D’you think Curly would join us again if I asked nicely? Maybe if I begged?”    “I don’t sound like that,” you tried to make your voice as steady and offended as you could in an attempt to hide how much you were squirming at the thought.    “It was actually pretty spot on,” Brian sniggered.    “Can we just go already?” you began to stand up, smoothing out the skirt of your dress.     “I’m not finished my dinner yet.”    You sat back down, earning another light laugh from Brian that had your cheeks burning.    “You’ve got her trained well.”    “Bri, you don’t know the half of it, but you’ll see once we get her back to the house. She’ll let us do just about anything we want to her.”    “I seem to recall she has a thing for choking.”    “Remember last time when she put my hand on her throat?” Roger laughed, talking to Brian but watching you struggle to stay composed, “Kept asking us to be rougher.”    You crossed your legs under the table and squeezed your thighs together in an effort to find some small relief, “that’s because you were being way too gentle. I wasn’t in the mood for gentle.”    “And what are you in the mood for right now?”    “At this point I’ll take whatever you give as long as it gets us back to the villa.”    “What if we decide we want to edge you all night? Or tie you to the bed arse up, ready for us to come and fill whichever hole we choose when we choose?”    Biting your lip didn’t quite stop the whimper that rose up in your throat.    “Ask me nicely if I’m ready to leave,”    “Are you ready to leave, Sir?”    “Not yet,” Roger flashed you an almost angelic smile before taking another sip of his drink.    “You could try asking me, nicely.”    “Are you ready to leave, Sir?”    “Good girl. But no.”    You groaned at their teasing, only just restraining yourself from stamping your feet like a child who’d had their favourite toy taken away. Instead you brought your glass to your lips and listened as they continued to discuss all the things they might do to you, hoping they’d turn themselves on so much they’d cave before the waiter came back to ask about dessert.   

Brian was just beginning to describe a scenario in which you were blindfolded and handcuffed when an idea popped into your head. With a quick glance around to make sure everyone at the other tables were preoccupied, and another large gulp of your drink for courage, you slipped off your seat and onto the floor. For a second you knelt there, the floorboards of the veranda cold and hard under your knees, listening to the two men chuckling about your disappearing act, before you crawled between Roger’s legs, reaching to undo his fly as you made yourself as comfortable as possible in the slightly cramped position.     “Such a slut,” he muttered, more to Brian than you, but he made no effort to stop you as you wrapped your hand around his base and began slowly stroking him, “she better hope she doesn’t stain that dress though or everyone’ll know.”    “She’d probably get off on that,” Brian laughed, “But she better realise she’ll have to suck us both off before we’ll even think about leaving.”    Taking care not to bump your head, you leaned forward, taking Roger's tip between your lips. His knee jolted at the contact and you heard a low oh shit leave him as you swirled your tongue around him, able to feel him getting harder with every stroke of your hand. Slowly you began to take more of him, sink deeper onto his cock, until he was almost in your throat. You paused at the first gag, pulled back to run your tongue along the sensitive head again, conscious of potentially being overheard or caught should anyone look too closely at the foot of the table where the cloth didn’t quite reach the floor. You were glad you’d made the choice not to push yourself any further when you heard footsteps approach.    “Did you enjoy your meal Mr Taylor?”    “Y-yeah, it was brilliant”    Hearing Roger trying to sound normal only made you double your efforts to break him.    “Can I interest you in our dessert menu?”    “Uhh, Yes, why not. And maybe another bottle of wine?”    “Right away, Sir.”    You whined once the footsteps had disappeared again. Dessert meant staying even longer and you were already finding it hard to resist slipping your hand into your underwear. Roger’s fist entered your field of vision, hitting his thigh as your whine sent a shockwave through him.    “Oh, Jesus Christ,”    “She always did enjoy sucking dick,” Brian said, thoughtfully.    “Mmhmm, and she’s only gotten better at it.”    “Oh? Does she like that rough too?    “Begs to have her throat fucked. You’ll have to give her a r-run once we get her back to the house.”    Roger’s legs stiffened as the waiter approached again, opening the new bottle of wine and placing it on the table. He managed to give his order with only a little strain to his voice.     “And for the lady?”    Brian was the one who answered, “She’s just had to run to the ladies' room but I’m sure she’ll be happy with the same as me.”    “Excellent choice, I’ll have them out to you as soon as possible.”    As soon as the waiter had left again Roger relaxed, shifting his hips slightly to encourage you. You picked up the pace, bobbing a little faster, matching the pace of your hand as it stroked where your mouth couldn’t reach. You could tell Roger was getting close from the way his breathing had picked up, his stomach rising and falling with each breath, a dull thump as his hand hit the table. And as much as you wanted to do more, the height of the table and the worry about being overheard stopped you from letting him into your throat properly. Instead you focused on all the spots within easy reach that you knew made him weak in the knees, tracing your tongue along the veins before sucking on his head, your nails lightly running over his thighs and up his shaft.    “God, I’m gonna-”    Brian laughed and you wished you could see what Roger looked like, how obvious it was that he was about to cum in your mouth in the middle of such a nice restaurant. It was a good thing you knew Roger so well, knew the signs of his impending orgasm. You took him as deep as you dared under the circumstances, trying to make sure no stray drops escaped your mouth. His hand dropped under the edge of the table, finding yours where it was braced on his thigh and he stroked the back of it with his thumb as you tried to stay quiet and swallow everything.     “Well fuck,” he said softly as you tucked him back into his pants, attempting to get your own breathing under control.    

“Oh she’s done is she?” Brian clicked his fingers under the table, and you crawled over to him, touching his leg to let him know you were there.    “She better be quick,” Roger warned, “The waiter’ll be here with our desserts soon and if she isn’t back in her seat he might start getting suspicious.”    The reminder that other people might notice your absence if you were gone for much longer set your heart racing as you fumbled with the fly on Brian’s pants. He was already hard, having been anticipating this since you disappeared under the table, which made it easier on you. You didn’t waste any time, leaning in as soon as he was free and licking a thick stripe up his shaft, pumping him a few times to spread the saliva along his length before taking him into your mouth proper. He was longer than Roger so you took extra care not to push yourself too far down, although the idea of the waiter or other customers hearing you choke on him didn’t make you any less aroused. Brian seemed to be thinking the same thing, his hand finding the back of your head under the table.    “Just one gag, c’mon,” he muttered, pushing you down a little further as he leaned back in his chair. You complied, relishing the small laugh he made as his grip on your hair loosened, his hand retracting until it was on the table again, letting you go back to a more comfortable level.    “She really does take orders well, doesn’t she?”    “Oh yeah, loves being bossed around.”    You hummed in agreement and Brian’s breath caught in his throat but you were sure you could get more of a reaction from him. You readjusted yourself, stroking him as you shifted your knees, trying to ease the stiffness beginning to spread through them. And then you leaned forward once more, pressing your lips to the underside of his cock and giving him a small nip with your teeth.    Roger laughed as Brian swore, somewhat louder than you’d intended though hopefully not enough to get caught out. It wasn’t until you felt a drip on the back of your hand that you realised you’d made him spill his drink.    “There you go you animal, use that,” Roger said through his laughter and you felt a cloth napkin being swiped against the back of your hand as Brian tried to clean up the mess as much as he could.    You knew you’d have to pay for that when you got home but for the moment your focus returned to finishing Brian before the waiter turned up. It didn’t take too much longer. Brian was already worked up from talking about what he wanted to do to you, and it was easy enough to push him over the edge with a tight suck on his head and a well-timed moan. His orgasm took you a little by surprise, certainly not as prepared for it as you had been with Roger’s, but you managed to catch the cum that leaked from the corner of your mouth before it could drip anywhere noticeable.     “You can stop looking so pleased with yourself,” Roger said once you were back in your seat, “If you’d been patient and not played your little stunt, you’d have been naked in bed by now cumming for the second time. Instead, you’re going to have to wait even longer.”     You took a swig of your wine to rinse your mouth out and stuck your tongue out at him.     “I’m so sorry Brian, she’s being a right fucking brat tonight.”     “I expect that’ll change once we get her in private.”     “Let’s hope so, though she’s been fucking impatient ever since we got on the plane, haven’t you baby? Tried to get me into the bathroom stall and then kept grinding against me instead of going to sleep last night. Even tried to get into my pants on the beach earlier today. And then had the audacity to ask if she could join me in the shower. I swear to god, you stop her from cumming for a couple of days and she turns into a bratty, cock crazed slut. Can’t think about anything else. Y’know, I bet if we took her into the back alley and told her to bend over, she would.”     You tried not to let on how true that was as you touched up your lipstick.  

By the time Roger finally called for the cheque you were sure you’d left a damp patch on your chair. When words had failed to be enough to tease you with Roger had taken to teasing you with light touches – running his foot up the inside of your leg, shuffling his hair closer to yours so he could lean into your ear, finding any small reason to touch your hand or your arm or even your neck. The worst was when he watched you swipe a finger through the last of the caramel sauce on your plate and caught your wrist before you could lick it clean. Your cheeks burned as he brought the fingertip to his own mouth, sucking it between his lips with a satisfied hum. You wanted to check if anyone was watching but couldn’t find it in you to draw your eyes from his lips, even when he let your wrist go. Brian didn’t help, leaning in on your other side, his hand dropping to your lap slowly inching the material of your dress higher, exposing more of your leg to the cool night air and his grasp. It was enough to draw a whine from you.     “Think we should get her home now?” Brian asked, voice closer than you’d have guessed it was.     “Yeah, I think we’ve earned it.”     You let out a sigh of relief that you were finally going to leave, finally going to get what you wanted, but it was premature. The teasing didn’t stop once you were in the car, if anything the privacy only spurred them on since there was no need to whisper or be subtle. Brian ushered you into the backseat, climbing in after and his hands were on your breasts before Roger had turned on the engine, pinching at your visibly hard nipples peeking out through the holes in the bust of your teddy. Roger damn near sped the entire way back to the villa, growing more impatient now that you’d left the restaurant.     “This is pretty,” Brian said, touching the teardrop of the necklace.     “Ro-Roggie got it for me,” your voice stuttered as Brian shifted his hand so the palm rested over the ruby, his long fingers laying against your collarbone.     “Rog has always liked shiny things. But I’m a little surprised he didn’t get you a choker.”     You whimpered as he reached behind your neck and tugged on the chain, pulling it tight around your throat.     “Oi don’t break it. Brand fucking new.” Roger said glancing into the mirror to watch.     “I won’t break it,” Brian rolled his eyes, “And tell me she doesn’t look good like this.”     “You mean how she looks completely fucked out before we’ve even touched her.”     Brian let the necklace drop back to its regular length as he and Roger laughed, leaving you feeling beyond flustered.    

 Once you were back at the villa you thought they’d pounce on you, sure that every step would be the last one you took before they pushed you against a wall or to your knees. Instead they just looked you over like predators assessing their prey.     “Are you going to behave for us?” Roger asked suddenly as he dropped the car keys on the living room coffee table.     You nodded, your voice not wanting to work.     “Take that dress off.”     Neither of them moved as you reached behind you with shaking fingers to undo the zip, even when you struggled to pull it down at first. They just stood there, watching. Brian made a noise of approval as the dress finally hit the ground, exposing the lingerie to them. Roger smiled to himself and made a circle motion with his finger. You did a slow turn for them, letting them see every inch of your outfit, from the heels and necklace you still wore to the cut outs in the front and back and the shine of the plug as it caught the light.     “If we wanted to be really mean we could just fuck her arse. Wouldn’t even have to undress her.” Roger said lowly, and then to you, “Now the necklace and shoes. Don’t want anything getting in the way. Tell Brian your safeword.”     You had to clear your throat before you could get the word out, “Red,”   “How fitting,”   “And what is it you want?”   “Your cocks, Sir,”   “Because…?”   “Because I’m a whore,”   “Good girl.”   “Behaving much better now, isn’t she.”   “I figured as much. Maybe you should give her something, Bri, make sure she understands her place.”   Brian stalked towards you, lacing his fingers in the back of your hair and tugging your head back gently to make you look at him, “Show me where the bedroom is, little slut, and we’ll see how much you can take.”   You knew you must look pathetic. Wide eyed and eager to earn his praise as you nodded with a small yes Sir. Brian let go of your hair and followed you towards the bedroom, ordering you to kneel on the bed once you were through the door. You knelt and waited. Brian traced his thumb over your bottom lip and let you suck on it.    “Probably soaked. And you’re sure she can handle it?”   “Positive. She’ll let you know if she can’t, or I will.”   That was enough for Brian who began undressing in front of you, popping the buttons on his shirt one by one. You would have watched, enraptured by the way his fingers moved, except that Roger took hold of your chin and turned your head towards himself.   “Your little performance back at the restaurant was a good way to kick things off, darling, but Bri isn’t happy you made him spill his drink. You’ll be paying for that little lapse of judgement now. And I won’t deny it’ll be hot to see you choking on him.” His grip on your chin loosened but the second you began to turn your head away Roger left a sharp slap on your cheek, “Pay attention. Now you’re going to show Brian just what a good hole you are, and if you’re lucky we’ll give you a chance to cum.” Roger turned back to Brian, “Don’t hold back.”  

 As soon as Brian’s cock was out he had a fist in your hair, pulling you towards him, his patience worn too thin. Not that you minded. This was what you’d tried to get from both him and Roger last time you’d been between them, they’d clearly learnt. He gave a handful of slow, shallow thrusts into your mouth under the pretence of letting you adjust but he soon lost any sense of mercy, relishing your gags as he pushed himself deeper down your throat. You braced your arms on his hips, his grunts as he rammed into your throat the only sound outside of your gagging. Tears began to pool in your eyes and you squeezed them shut only to feel Brian’s fingers hit your cheek in a sharp slap that didn’t quite hit the mark.   “Eyes on me while I’m ruining you, slut,”   You forced your eyes open, blinking until the mascara tinted tears ran down your face instead.   “Better. F-fuck you’re so fucking messy.”   You could only imagine the picture you must look, your freshly reapplied lipstick probably smeared over your face and Brian’s dick, hair wild from being grabbed and released and grabbed again, a mix of tears and saliva dripping off your chin onto your chest. The crotch of your teddy was definitely soaked by now, your cunt throbbing with the need to be touched. Brian gave your hair a particularly forceful tug and you moaned.   “You – fucking hell – you were right, she’s lo-ving this.”   Roger laughed, his voice getting closer as he moved away from where he’d been watching and came to stand behind you, “Hold her still a sec, I wanna get at her arse.”    Brian pulled you off him, fingers still tangled in your hair as he watched you cough and take as many gasped breaths as you could as Roger tugged your legs back, your hands falling to the mattress to hold yourself up. A sudden spank against your right cheek made you jolt and cry out.   “There we go. Can see that pretty new plug now.” Roger tapped the end of it pushing it further into you and making you gasp.    “Aww, does that feel good, fucktoy?”   You squeaked as he pulled the plug out a little, twitching under their grasps as Roger leaned forwards and spat on you before pushing it back in again.   “So wet already. Let’s see if we can’t make her drip.”   You had the chance to take one more hurried breath and then your head was being yanked back over Brian, his fingers in your hair pushing you the whole way down his length as Roger continued to play with the plug. A sudden spank caught you off guard and made you jolt and then gag, both of them making noises of approval in response. All it did was encourage them, Brian returning to his previous pace, holding you still as he used your throat relentlessly, Roger alternating between spanking you and twitching the plug inside you, both making you whine. Finally, when your bum was pink and stinging, they let you go, Brian practically throwing you from him. You landed on your side but quickly scrambled back to your knees so you could see them both.  

 “Oh good girl,” Roger cooed, swiping his fingers through the mess of saliva on your chin, “Think you took that well enough to get a chance to cum, what d’you say Bri?”   “I think so.”   “Thank you, Sirs,” you said somewhat breathlessly.   Brian moved behind you, pulling your arms behind your back and holding them in place as Roger let his fingers wander lightly over the material that covered your pussy. You hummed when he finally pressed against your clit, arching into his touch as Brian held your arms in place. You’d been waiting so long and you were so worked up it wasn’t long before you felt your orgasm beginning to build.   “Five. Four. Three. Two. One.”   Roger pulled his hand away before you could finish.    “What? No. I need more,”   Your cheek stung as Roger slapped you again, “You need what we say you need. Said you’d get the chance to cum and that’s exactly what you got. If you didn’t make it that’s because you didn’t want it enough.”   You felt Brian let go of your arms and then his hand between your shoulder blades pushing you down.   “All this on my account,” his nail tapped against the plug, “Maybe we should give her another chance.” Two fingers wormed their way underneath the teddy and pressed into your cunt with ease, “Maybe the poor little slut just didn’t have enough cock last time.” The fingers pumped into you a few times and then they were gone. You whined at the loss but it was only momentary, Roger beginning to remove the lingerie from your body and Brian pulling it all the way off your legs leaving you completely exposed to them. And then the fingers were replaced by Brian’s cock as he slowly sunk into you.    Roger’s hand wrapped around your neck, squeezing lightly as he forced you to look at him, “Is that what the whore wanted? To have her cunt filled?”   You keened as Brian pulled back, so slow you could feel every inch.   “Words.” Roger’s grip tightened a little.   “Ye-s, Sir, ‘s what I wanted.”   Each time Brian sunk into you was faster than the last and had you moaning, Roger squeezing your throat tighter.   “Five. You going to cum for us this time?”   “W-ait – fuck - more, please,”   “Four.”   “I ca-can’t,”   “You can’t? Hear that Bri, she can’t. So ungrateful, think I need to shut her up.”   Roger’s hand left your throat, the rush of air making your head spin, but then he was squeezing your cheeks until your mouth opened wide enough for his cock to fit. The counting stopped and you lost all sense of time. All you knew was them, their cocks. You could feel yourself getting closer to orgasm but Brian refused to touch your clit, just kept pounding into you, and it wasn’t enough. And when you did start to think that maybe you were going to cum Roger’s thrusts would get rougher and distract you. They didn’t care though. You were there to be used, a set of holes begging to be filled and nothing more. Even your moans were in their service, the vibrations making Roger swear. His hand found your throat again, squeezing around the dick shoved down it, making you clench around Brian. A warm, tingly feeling bubbled up in your chest as Brian grunted out something about how fucking tight you felt. And then he was gone, pulling out before he lost himself completely. Roger gave you a few more thrusts before he followed, and you collapsed in a gasping heap.   

“Still didn’t cum,” Brian said offhandedly, swatting at your hip, “should we give her another chance?”    "What do you think, fucktoy? Do you deserve another chance?”    “I think so Sir, I’ve been so good for you.”    “Hardly an unbiased opinion. But okay.”    There was a beat of silence. You didn’t want to say the wrong thing and change their minds when you were so close to getting the relief you craved. They looked at each other and then at you and within second you found yourself being rolled onto your back, each of them holding your legs wide open. Roger leaned down, his tongue tracing over the crease of your thigh, enough to make you squirm.    Brian slapped the thigh he held though it didn’t have as much power behind it as other hits you’d received, “Fucking beg for it, then.”    “Please Sirs, I want to cum so bad. Please make me cum.”    You’d barely finished speaking when you felt Brian’s finger enter you again, drawing a soft moan from you as they curled against your wall. It was nothing like the moan that came when Roger joined in. His lips latching onto your clit had your head tipping back and your hips pushing up and a long loud moan rising into the air as you finally got what you needed. Without thinking you dropped your hands and twisted your fingers in their hair, tugging lightly as your back arched. It didn’t take long to have you writhing as you came hard, all the  build up  of the last few days reaching a crescendo and finally breaking. But that didn’t mean they were going to stop. Your first orgasm had barely subsided when your stomach tightened with the second your hands clutching at their mops of hair as they expertly drew you to the edge and pushed you over. They kept fingering you and lapping at your clit as your release washed over you. For a wild moment you thought they were going to pull another orgasm from you but then they stopped, crawled up either side of you. You didn’t really notice until Roger tapped your cheek and told you to open. You didn’t know if he meant mouth or eyes so to be safe you opened both, watching as he spat onto your tongue and then as Brian did the same. You dutifully swallowed and thanked them both.    

  “You can have her first. Lube’s behind you on the nightstand.”    “You sure?” Brian asked.    “Yeah,” he looked down at you, “I don't mind sharing my toys.”    You were still a little dazed when you felt them both pulling you up onto your knees, but Roger let you wrap your arms around his neck.    “You okay?” he asked softly, “still want to do this?”    “Yes, so much.”    He chuckled and pressed a soft kiss to your jaw, “You’re fucking filthy.” He kept talking, soft words of encouragement and praise to help keep you relaxed as Brian carefully removed the plug and pressed his  lubed  up fingers into you instead. There was a pause as he coated his dick in lube but then you felt his tip pressing into you and groaned into Roger’s neck.     “Fuck. And I thought your cunt was tight. No, shit, don’t laugh.”    “Sorry,” you giggled against Roger’s skin, “just hit me how fucking wild this whole thing is.”    “‘s alright,” Roger said, trying not to laugh himself, “Just go slow,”    Brian waited to make sure you’d calmed down  before he pressed himself deeper. You whined when he started to fuck you, slowly, letting you adjust. You knew  the gentle restraint was over when you were pulled back against Brian, his hand latching onto your throat.  Roger shifted your legs and shuffled closer, sliding his cock along your slit. It was agony waiting for what you’d been fantasising about for so long, just out of reach. You tried to beg but Brian just pressed down harder on your throat, cutting you off. And then the wait ended, your head falling back into Brian’s shoulder as you grasped at them both, making Roger hiss as your nails bit into his skin.  If you hadn’t known they regularly performed together it would have been obvious from how in sync they were, picking up on small signals from each other and working in tandem to completely undo you. Brian’s hand left your throat but you barely noticed because Roger’s replaced it in a matter of seconds, keeping you twitching between them as they railed into you from both sides  until you lost all sense of who was where .  One of them dropped their finger to your clit, rubbing it in in fast harsh circles.  It was enough to have you reeling, their voices twice as loud as they mocked you , heat burning through every inch  of your body but twice as hot under their touch, your own heart beating so hard you were sure it would pound its way out of your chest.   “Stop fucking clenching like that,” Roger growled as he let your throat go, “not ready to leave your whore cunt yet,”    You inadvertently clenched around him again as he hit just the right spot, and w as  rewarded with a blow to your hip, the easiest place for him to reach. The noise seemed to echo as they drove into you , so hard and deep you could feel them in your throat. Or maybe that was just the fingers Brian had given you to suck on as he repeated  don’t cum yet  in your ear. Once he said  you couldn’t  it was all you wanted to do, all you could think about , the fingers on your clit drawing you ever closer . But  Roger was in your other ear ordering you to hold it as well. You bit your lip and squeezed your eyes shut but it was no use.    You whined around Brian’s fingers and let them slip from you, “I’m gon – gonna,” you panted out, tugging on Brian’s hair.    “Don’t you f- ucking  dare. Not yet,”    “I –” you moaned as you slipped over the edge, unable to hold it any longer, shaking as the orgasm rolled over you.    “Oh f-f-fuck,” Brian groaned, “Take it you f- ucking  sl-ut,” he pressed deep into you as he hit his release, filling you with hot spurts of cum. Roger stilled at the same time, keeping you in place until Brian, breathing hard, pulled himself free.     “My turn.”    You had a moment to feel the emptiness as  Roger  left you and pushed you onto your back before he shoved himself back inside your  sensitive  cunt.  Pressing your leg towards your head he resumed his rough pace, if anything rougher now that he wasn’t accommodating Brian as well, until his hips stuttered and his cock twitched, coating your walls.   

Roger collapsed beside you but other than that it was a while before any of you could find it in you to move. Brian was the first, shifting until he was more comfortably settled and throwing a hand over his eyes as he tried to process what had happened. You jumped slightly when Roger touched your arm lightly.    “Hey, just me. You okay?”    “Yeah.”    “You had a good time?”    “Yeah, yes.”    “Really? You seem  kinda  distant, you sure you’re alright?”    You turned your head to smile at him, “Positive. Just thinking about next valentines. You know it's going to have a lot to live up to.”    You watched him push himself up onto an elbow, his gaze shifting from you to Brian and back to you, “I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” He leaned down, his nose brushing yours as he kissed you softly.  Your moment was interrupted by Brian clearing his throat as he sat up, “Fuck next valentines, we’re going  again  tonight aren’t we? Tomorrow at the very least. I was told you had this place booked for the rest of the week.”    Roge r hummed , dragging a fingertip from your waist up towards your chest, “ Definitely going again.  There is still so much we  can do to her .” He winked at you, sending a shiver running down your spine.    “Maybe something else to drink first?”    “Of course, my love, ” He swung his legs over the bed and stood, stretching his arms above his head, “You want a drink too  Bri ?”    “If there’s one going,”    “Be back in a sec.” He stopped in the doorway and turned back to you and Brian, “but I call dibs on her arse next time.”     

[offbrandmercyplates]

Ms. Emmibee makes some Greek God AU Emster comics, so I follow immediately with a fanfic WEEEEE

The title of this post kind of says it all, but hey! I’m Yours The Author, and if Ms. Emmibee will allow it, the following story will be posted on my fanfiction and AO3 accounts, sooner or later. Like the first fanfic I posted here, it combines a few of the comics and even some fan art, to an extent (shout out to amee-racle for the inspiration of one of the scenes here!) into a semi-coherrent story. I originally started with an introduction scene that showed the Kore (Emmi) and Hades (Gaster) seeing but not meeting each other for the first time, but I realized the main scene I wanted to get to could be more concise and still deliver most of the same information, so I did some reworking. I hope you like it! This involves the “pomegranate” comic, mentions some stuff related to the “jewels” comic, and has a reference to amee-racle’s fan art of Kore and Hades with flower crowns! See you at the bottom!

The Meeting and the Benefits of Breaking the Rules of the Underworld

“My name is Kore. I’m the goddess of spring,” the floating humanoid in the long dress stated.

The skeleton god stared at her. “I am Hades, the King of the Underworld.” He looked a little prideful when he said that, but his expression quickly reverted to one of bewilderment. “Now I’ll ask again: how did you get down here?”

“You left the cave open when you came down here,” Kore replied.

“…Oh.” It was silent for a few moments, aside from the distant drips of water from the cave’s ceiling and the breeze Kore naturally stirred. Hades slowly pointed behind her. “The exit is that way.”

“I know.”

“…Then why don’t you leave?”

“I don’t wanna.”

“…Why?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“Ah, you’re here on business. Very well; what do you wish to discuss?”

Kore held out her cupped hands. In the light of the crystals hanging from the walls and ceiling, a small pile of jewels glittered in her palms. All sorts of stones, in all sorts of colors. “You’re the one who’s been leaving these for me to find, right?” She asked.

“A-ah…” Hades blushed and tightened his grip on his golden staff. “I just—you—you liked that star sapphire I dropped, so I thought I’d let you find more,” he admitted.

Kore shifted the stones around to examine the smooth blue gem with a white star pattern in the middle. “Well… thank you!” she grinned happily, and Hades quickly adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses.

“Y-you’re welcome…”

“And I have something for you!”

“…You do?”

“Yep! I made this for you!” She put the stones away in the pouch tied to her waist, then lifted the flower crown off of her head and placed it over his own shiny crown of metal.

Hades blinked and lifted the flower crown a bit to inspect it. It was a crown of large roses, alternating between yellow blossoms with red tips and lavender blooms. The woven stems weren’t thorny at all, and they didn’t wilt, suggesting they were made with magic. “…Oh.” He slowly let the crown settle on his head. “…Thank you.”

“You’re welcome!”

It was quiet again. The pink and yellow blossoms woven into Kore’s long and wild locks shed their petals into the breeze, only to regrow and repeat the process. It was a very picturesque scene.

If Hades had lips, he’d probably be biting them nervously. This little goddess was stirring… unnecessary feelings, as well as a breeze. “You should probably go—” he began.

“Got any snacks around here?”

“…Wouldn’t… you rather eat the food from above?”

“I want to try new things.”

“Well…” he thought for a moment, then raised his free hand towards the wall of the cave. It shifted open, revealing a path that led to a garden. Kore floated through the garden, technically impolite for not having waited for permission to enter, but forgiven nonetheless. Hades followed after her. “Many from above believe that no life can exist in the Underworld,” he explained. “This is both true and misleading. Plants that die above ground regrow down here; their life force entwining with the Underworld’s logic. The food in this garden can be eaten by gods and even mortals who live above, bUT–!” He gestured wildly for her to stop.

Kore had picked a shiny red pomegranate and ripped it in half with her bare hands, revealing the glistening seeds. She had been about to dig in, but paused and looked up at him, awaiting an explanation. Hades straightened his long black tunic and tried to look calm. “But you must not eat that pomegranate.”

“Huh?” Kore cocked her head to the side, hovering at eye level. “Why not?”

“The pomegranate is sacred here. It represents the very nature of the Underworld: life,” he gestured to the little spring goddess, “and death,” he put a hand to his sternum. “It is connected to the Underworld, just as I am. If you eat its seeds, you will be bound to the Underworld, and…” he blushed, “to me.”

“Ooooh,” Kore hummed.

“Indeed.”

“…”

Without breaking eye contact, Kore shoveled every seed in both halves of the pomegranate into her mouth. Hades’ jaw dropped open, sputtering sounds barely escaping his teeth as she licked the juice from her fingers, still looking him right in the eye sockets.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” He finally managed.

“You just explained to me what it means.”

“YES, BUT—”

“So when should the wedding be?”

“THE WHAT?!”

Kore pulled some of the flowers out of her hair and began to weave them together as if she didn’t just seal her soul to a cave under the ground. “Oh, can we invite my mother, too? I feel like the Goddess of Nature wouldn’t take kindly to not being invited to her daughter’s wedding.”

“M-mother Nature?”

“Mm.”

“She is going to destroy me…” Hades covered his face with his hands.

Kore finished the new crown and set it on her head: an alternating mix of yellow primroses and pink cherry blossoms. “Don’t worry, I won’t let her. Besides, being a goddess bound to the Underworld doesn’t mean I have to be here all the time, right?”

“Well… technically, but—”

“So I can spend some time above ground and spend the rest of the time with you!”

“I—I! I…”

Kore’s smile grew smaller. “Do you not want to…?”

“No! I mean—I… won’t make a very good husband. I’ll disappoint you.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” She hovered next to him and gently bumped his skull with her head. “C’mon, let’s go say hello to your new mother-in-law!”

“This will not end well…”

***

I don’t know much about the logic of eating food from the Underworld in this AU (Hades specifically mentions the significance of the pomegranate, and that had to have come from somewhere), so I went with the concept that plants that die before their time or under specific circumstances can grow and bear fruit in the Underworld, and anyone can eat any of that food /except/ the pomegranates. In reality, you likely can’t eat any food from the Underworld, but it was just a thought.

Hades can open a cave to go back to the Underworld, but sometimes he forgets to close it behind him, hence how Kore got in.

Flower and jewel symbolism:

Roses generally mean affection, but the color of the rose is often extremely important! Yellow roses with red at the tips of the petals represents falling in love, while lavender-colored roses represent love at first sight.

Star sapphires are often called “the stones of destiny”, and can extend mental focus and knowledge.

Sakura blossoms are practically the living symbol of spring and can represent renewal.

Primroses represent young love, and yellow primroses can represent spring and the sun.

Hades’ “I’ll disappoint you” line is based on something similar he says in a Zarla MercyPlates comic, where Papyrus tells him to be good, and Gaster says something like “I’ll try, but I’ll just disappoint you.” Ah… parallels.

Alright, I think that’s everything. Let me know if it’s okay to post these on my fanfiction and AO3 accounts. I’ll see you around! Keep being awesome! ~~~ No YOU keep being awesome!!! This is absolutely lovely hhhhhh

You’re more than welcome to post this on AO3 and FF. I’ll definitely post it here!

Now to respond to the notes!!

The pomegranate thing is great! The pomegranate symbolism from the comic is actually based on its IRL symbolism, which is similar across many cultures (representing life and death, and also love sometimes), and I think your explanation is really cool!

Hades forgetting to close the cave door is a big mood tbh.

I recognized the “I’ll disappoint you” quote and i CRY

Have I mentioned how much I love flower symbolism??? I LOVE how you used that in this!!

Thank you so much!!!!

[bangtanbetchfics]

Aperitivo (m) | jinkook capsule

genre: smuttiest of smut, fluff, angst rating: explicit pairing: kim seokjin x female reader x jeon jungkook word count: 5.0k suggested listening: taste - red velvet | miniskirt - aoa | ice queen - baekhyun | melting point - gwsn | playlist warnings: explicit language, explicit/casual sex, masturbation, vouyerism, alcohol use summary: on the heels of a breakup, you fall hopelessly in lust with two pastry chefs on your vacation in venice. notes: this is smut with a plot, but i'm warning you now to get your life together before reading. put your seatbelts on, read safely and enjoy! *** collaboration info: come join us as we explore europe with BTS through fanfiction. our members chose an european location and a bts member/combo to adventure with, inspired by the group’s most recent extended time off. our fics range from fluff to smut, exploring our fantasies and ideations of what it would be like to travel with the boys. we invite you to go on this journey with us! fellow collaborators: smuttymess | som-siren | chaosbulldog navigation: part ii | kim taehyung on vacation - (eros) | masterlist

A · PER · I · TI · VO | A pre-meal drink specifically meant to whet your appetite.

The pulses of your breath escape your mouth as you run down the platform to catch your train. You’ve only got three minutes to reach your car before the doors shut, and of course you’re in second class — the very last car. 

The extreme burn in your chest overtakes you as you reach the doors of your car and slide them open. The train wiggles a bit before you find your seat. You attempt to sit and almost fall down, but you catch yourself.

The city you were once in starts to whisk away through the window, and you put your hand in your chin to look out at the view for a moment.

Your hands make their way into your purse, and you sift through it, pulling out your phone. A few buzzes radiate from it, and a rapid succession of text notifications pop up.

[14:18] [DELETE HIS NUMBER NOW]: bb pls, gimme one more chance

[14:19] [DELETE HIS NUMBER NOW]: pls pls pls i won’t do it again

[14:19] [DELETE HIS NUMBER NOW]: come ON

The desperation dripping through the texts causes you roll your eyes. A low growl develops in your throat before you click the contact. 

Your thumb hovers over the word [BLOCK] for a moment. 

Suddenly, you give in and press it. 

You were done with this. You weren’t quite sure when you became a magnet for men who liked to cheat, but you were done with second, third and fourth chances. When you found out your boyfriend was cheating on you while you were on vacation, you decided to call it quits.

Fuck him. 

He was never that good in bed anyway, and this vacation was a welcome reprieve from your recent breakup. 

As far as you were concerned, all men were now cancelled until further notice.

A sigh escapes your lips as you toss your phone back in your bag. As you lean your head against the window, your eyes flutter to a close and you drift off to sleep. 

***

The train glides over a sea of blue as you open your eyes, and it immediately feels like you’re floating across the sea. 

A smile curls up on your lips as you prepare to deboard. A wave of calm washes over you as you exit and the salty scent of the sea hits your nose.

Your eyes meet the expanse of the sun setting over the Venetian harbour, and you release a warm sigh.

***

As you get off one of the — as you now knew — vaporetto, you pull your array of luggage behind you. You never did know how to pack light. You grumble as you continue to drag your luggage over the small cobblestones covering the streets of — you look down at your map — Giudecca. 

You heard staying on the Venetian mainland in the middle of the summer was probably not the best idea, so you found a place to stay a bit off the beaten path.

Beads of sweat start to form on your head, and you let out a few breaths as you stop in front your destination.

[PANETERRIA DE JIN]

The sweet aroma of pastries detracts your attention for a moment before you look down at your phone and conclude that this is indeed the location. 

A little jingle rings from the bell above your head as you enter the bakery, and it catches the attention of a tall man behind the register.

“One moment, I’ll be right with you!” 

The man shouts out as he looks over in your direction. He hands a small older woman cash, nodding and smiling to hurry her. 

“Yes Ms. Kim. Of course, Ms. Kim.”

As you look around, you find that the bakery is cozy and filled with subtle nods to both Korean and Italian culture. Pastel pink accents fill the place and give it a genial charm.

You get closer to a display case by the register to look at some of the treats: Sweet Red Bean Cream Cannolis, Fish-Shaped Pastries, Fresh Honey Doughnuts — the works. Every single pastry was beautiful, and you were in awe at how uniform every single one was.

The man then washes and dries his hands before jogging past you. He quickly flips the sign at the front door of the shop to “closed” and jogs back over to you. He then grabs the handle of your suitcase before extending a hand out to you.

“Hello, so sorry.” His voice comes out in a gentle, sing-song manner and it makes the corners of your lips lift.

Your eyes grow wide as you drink him in: Deep brown almond eyes, poreless skin, shiny plump lips and his satiny-pink hair was swooped into a middle part over one of his eyes. You wonder to yourself how a man this attractive found himself working in a bakery. 

You shake your head to snap yourself out of your daze.

Remember. Men are cancelled.

“I’m Jin. Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Y/N. Y- You own this place?” The lump in your throat becomes apparent as you shake his hand in return. Jin lifts one of his dark brows at you before his lips curl into a smile. 

“Wow, were you just checking me out?” Jin’s eyes turn into little crescents as he laughs and he places a finger gun under his chin. He laughs even harder as your cheeks flush in embarrassment at him calling you out. He pats your shoulder to relieve you.

“Aigoo. I’m kidding...I’m kidding . And yes, I own this bakery. Come on, I’ll show you to your room.”

“Oh, you don’t have to-” Jin begins to lift one of your suitcases up a hidden set of stairs in the back of the bakery.

Chivalry wasn’t dead? Okay. Noted.

***

The room is small, clean and simple —- just as described. A small picture window looks out onto the Ventian harbour, adding charm to the room.

“Modest, but it works for you, right?” Jin looks to you and you give him a nod. 

“My assistant and I have rooms next door, and the shared bathroom is in the hall as well.” You nod again in affirmation, before your stomach makes the loudest and most ungodly sound from hunger. 

“Also, guests can get as many pastries as they want from downstairs for free.” Jin winks at you, and you let out a soft chuckle. 

As Jin leaves the room, you throw yourself back onto the plush sheets and sigh. 

You look over to the night table and you pluck a pink rose from its vase. You press it to your nose before you reach into your pocket and pull out a worn photo of you kissing a man.

Your eyes study it for a moment, but you quickly tear it and toss the remnants over you.

***

The summer sun settles on your features, and the warm rays tickle you awake. A small yawn slips from your mouth, and you sit up to stretch your arms. 

The toasty essence of bread travels up your nose as you look around the room.

“Oh.” A small plate of various breakfast pastries is on the night table next to your bed. You immediately grab the pastries, scarfing them down before taking sips of the hot tea next to it. 

“Gonna need more of those.”

***

As you approach the bakery, you pause for a moment as you see a new man at the counter.

You double back and peek around the corner, peering at him. Your eyes flick to the strong veins in his hands as he continues to write. A tattoo sleeve runs down the same arm from his short-sleeved chef's jacket.

“Can I help you?” The man asks without looking up from the paper he’s writing on. 

The fact that he notices your presence makes you jump, and you slowly walk into the bakery — guilty as charged.

“W-Who are you? Do you work here?”

“Who are you ?” He inquires, standing up to lean against the counter.

Your defenses fall at how his dark doe eyes take you in. His earrings — silver swords —- catch the morning light and accentuate the sparkle in his eyes. 

A few other piercings line his ears, and his dark hair hangs in his eyes. His muscles all still somehow protrude through the fabric of his chef’s uniform. 

“I’m Jungkook. You can call me JK, though. I’m Jin’s assistant chef.” 

Jungkook grins at you, and he watches closely as you lose yourself in his eyes. 

"What is it? Cat got your tongue?" He tucks a few long strands of his hair behind his ear before he extends his hand out to you. 

“Uhm, I’m Y/N. I’m staying above the bakery for a few nights.” You shake his hand in return, and you're sure he can detect the nerves radiating from your fingers.

“Oh, is that so?” 

Your pulse increases in pace as he studies your features. He looks down to pull one of the pastries you point your finger at, and he packages it nicely before your eyes. 

“That’ll be ten-fifty euros, Y/N.” 

"For two doughnuts ?" Your mouth drops open in shock, and Jungkook’s smile extends wide over his face. 

“But Jin sai-” Jin appears, and laughs before he moves behind the counter.

“Ah, I see you’ve met Jungkook,” Jin gives him a look, and he stands down. “He’s kidding.” 

Jungkook suppresses his smile a bit as he looks at you, before folding his arms. Jin hands you the bag, and you take it. 

“We’re about to open, but I’ll take you around the city this evening —- and then a baking class with us tomorrow, as promised in the listing.” 

You look outside, and a line of frantic women are waiting eagerly outside the door. You nod at Jin, and you exit, noticing as Jungkook’s eyes follow you. 

A heat burns your cheeks as you clutch the bag of treats to your chest.

Fuck. 

Men are cancelled. Men are cancelled. Men are cancelled. Men are cancelled.

You repeat the mantra over and over in your head as you ascend the stairs back to your room, but that doesn’t alleviate the twinge you feel in between your legs.

***

“Ah-ah-” You quietly mewl as a wave of pleasure hits you, and you pull your right hand from your underwear. You run your fingers through your hair and run your tongue over your lips as your heart rate slows.

No, no. You definitely didn’t just fantasize about those two incredibly attractive pastry chefs fucking you. You most definitely didn’t. What the fuck was wrong with you?

Your eyes float to the picture window above your head, and you spring up as you take in the sunset. 

You pull a towel and a washcloth from the drawer beside you, and head toward the bathroom in the hall. 

The door is shut, and you quietly rap at it.

“Excuse me, I need to use the bathroom if you don’t mind.”

The soft trickles of the shower end, and after a moment —- the door whips open. 

The crisp scent of soap hits your nostrils before you notice Jungkook is towering over you, half-naked. A small towel over his lower body is the only thing covering him. It takes you a moment to draw your eyes away from his body, but you quickly bring yourself back to Earth.

“All yours, but my eyes are up here.” A few stray beads of water drip from the hair that clings to his face down the golden, muscular dips in his body. Your body is still frozen as you look at him.

“And hot tip: maybe you should be a little quieter next time?” Jungkook whispers in your ear, and you can hear the smirk in his voice. It takes you a second to realize what he means, and you watch him as he enters his room — the one directly next to yours. He shoots you a wink before shutting the door. 

As you scurry into the bathroom, you force the breath from your throat and cup your forehead in embarrassment.

Did he know? 

Jungkook absolutely knew what you just did in your room. 

Shit.

***

“Are you ready?” Jin stands outside of the bakery, and lights up as soon as he sees you. 

The moonlight glimmers on the sea as the two of you approach the vaporetto, heading to San Marco.

“I’m taking you to St. Mark’s Square, and to one of the best Italian places in the city.”

You nod, following him into the boat.

***

“What brings you to Italy?” The two of you deboard the vaporetto and head toward the square. “I just needed a break from my real life to be honest.” 

“Oh?” Jin raises a brow as the two of you dodge the pigeons littering your path.

“Bad breakup,” You pause. “He was a cheater anyway.”

“Gave the rest of us men a bad name, huh?” Jin tries to lighten the mood and you nod. 

A man is nearby and selling single roses, and Jin swoops one into your hands — handing the man a euro coin.

“Well, hopefully I can get your mind off things.” Jin smiles at you, and it makes you smile in relief.

***

“We’ll take the gondola back over to Giudecca.” You shrink in embarrassment. 

“Isn’t that just for couples?” Jin shakes his head. 

“No, it’s a handy form of transportation, too.” He lets out a squeaky laugh and you giggle with him as he pulls you into the boat. "You're in Italy. You just have to do it."

As you’re halfway towards the bakery, the gondolier starts to break out into a serenade. 

Jin senses your embarrassment, and he suddenly breaks out into song with the man. 

"Jin stop!" You clutch your gut in laughter and after awhile Jin sits back down. 

You wipe the happy tears from your eyes and Jin smiles at you. 

Both of your smiles suddenly drop as you look at each other just a moment too long.

You weren’t sure what got into you: Jungkook’s subtle flirtations in the back of your mind, Jin’s smile and his lips, remnants of your breakup, the moonlight — it was all too much for you to hold in right at that moment. You put your fingers on Jin’s collar and press your lips to his. Jin takes the kiss in, and cups your chin in his hands.

The gondolier smiles to himself as he watches the two of you.

***

Jin leads you into his room, and presses you into the wall. The door shuts lightly and is left slightly ajar, but the two of you are too caught up in each other to notice.

Jin kisses you, pressing himself between your legs. You take in his scent — the essence of what smells like a sweet vanilla. His caresses on your hair are soft, and his skin glides over yours like silk. He reaches below to slide his fingers into your underwear and you let out a moan.

“Thin walls.” Jin whispers into your ear as he covers your mouth. You heave as his fingers torturously work inside you, and you clutch his wrist to try to slow his pace. You try to keep quiet as he asks, but it’s no use.

Jungkook jogs up the stairs and hears soft moans filling the hall, and he realizes Jin’s door is slightly open. 

Jungkook peeks at the scene between the two of you for a few moments before he feels the tug of fabric tightening around his bulge. The stifled and needy moans that fall from your lips only serve to turn him on further. 

Jungkook returns to his room and starts to massage his throbbing cock — but he imagines himself pleasuring you instead as he hears your moans through the wall.

***

You jolt from your sleep in the dead of the night as you feel your bed shake. It takes you a bit to orient yourself, but you hear the moans of two females through the walls. 

It sounded like Jungkook was fucking two females in the room next to you. 

He was. So hard that your bed was shaking.

Of course he was.

You roll your eyes and press a pillow over your head before you force yourself back to sleep.

***

The bustle of people outside in the morning wakes you, and you spring from your bed to head to the bathroom.

As you look around, you spot a lacy pair of underwear on the rack. You take a second before you snatch them and crumple them in your hand. 

You head to Jungkook’s door, banging at it with your fist.

“Is there a problem?” Jungkook looks down at you as he opens the door and hangs in its frame.

“I’m going to give you zero stars on this listing is the fucking problem.” You fling the underwear in his face. “All I heard last night was you fucking. I barely got any sleep.” 

“Oh, so you were listening, huh?” Mischief dances in Jungkook's eyes and he grins. You glare up at Jungkook, your expression still brimming with displeasure.

“You’re being so uptight. You know it’s 2019 and people fuck, right?” You scoff at him. 

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch.” He bites his lip before he runs his fingers through his hair.

Uptight. 

The word swirls around your head and it makes the blood boil in your veins. Everyone in your life seemed to throw that phrase at you, and this moment was the crescendo to your breaking point. 

You were tired of hearing it.

Uptight.

In a split second, you grab Jungkook’s shirt to pull him down to your level.

“I’m not uptight.” An animalistic anger overtakes you as you crash your lips into his and then pull at them with your teeth. 

Jungkook moans into the kiss and you feel a deep hunger from him each time your lips meet.

The moans that escape your mouth start to sync with his as he guides you in the room and closer to his bed. Your hand slides underneath his shirt, and your fingers skate over the hard dips that line his abdomen and chest. 

“I think you wanted me to find them. Is that right?” Jungkook hums as he sits on the bed, pulling you down to his lap. 

“And why would I want to do that?” The kisses between you grow in heat as your mouths open wider and your tongues intertwine. 

“You imagined one of those girls was me, didn’t you?” You grit out in a whisper. Jungkook presses his fingers firm into the meaty flesh of your thighs as he pulls you tighter to his frame.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” You snap your lips from his and look from the new glint on his mouth up to his eyes. He runs his hands up your shirt, eagerly anticipating your next move. 

"I want you inside of me." You feel him twitch below you before your teeth grab his ear. You steady your breaths and your eyes close as he enters you.

"Is that big enough for you?" You let out an involuntary moan as you feel him fill you, but you refocus your thoughts. 

“I hate you.” You nibble at his lips, and your fingertips squeeze the back of his neck for support.

You grind your hips into him —- slow at first —- but quickly picking up pace. You let out a whimper at how hard his cock is inside you as you start to lift your hips, slamming up and down on him.

"I'm gonna cum if you go that fast," There’s a strain to his moans as you move on top of him and it satisfies you. He throws his head back, trying to pace his breaths, but it fails.

"Ah, sh-" He whimpers as your slick walls squeeze him relentlessly. You moan in pleasure as you feel his warm load fill you. You steal one more kiss from his lips before you look at him.

“How’s that for uptight?” You pant, as you look at him below you — his face fucked out and glistening with sweat.

“Fuck you.” Jungkook breathes out as he watches you catch your breath.

"You loved it." He says as he smacks your ass.

You give him the middle finger, and he chuckles.

***

As you enter the bakery, Jungkook looks up from what he’s writing to look at you. 

You look refreshed from your shower, but Jungkook smirks at you — pleased that just moments ago he filled you to the brim with his cum. 

"Please don't look so satisfied." You glare at him and he hands you an apron. You try to snatch it, but he pulls it behind his back. 

Jungkook closes in on you and lets out a chuckle as he watches your cheeks grow red. He places a hard kiss on your lips before the two of you hear footfalls approach. 

"Behave." You point your finger at him before you immediately separate. He gives you another smirk as he hands you the apron.

“So sorry I'm late. I had to run some errands this morning. Are you ready, Y/N?” Jin slips behind the counter and looks at the two of you. 

You don’t make eye contact with either of them as you put on your apron. 

“Today we’ll be making a simple puff pastry.”

Jin starts to demonstrate the process and you watch him. You can't help but get swept up in how sexy he is while he's working, and Jungkook takes notice. 

Jungkook clears his throat and it catches the attention of both you and Jin.

"That's only one way of getting it done. You could also drop it into the mixer for a faster process."

"You're right. But we like to show off to our guests a little bit, right?" Jin winks at you and you can't help but giggle at his natural charm. 

Jungkook rolls his eyes in jealousy and Jin smiles to himself.

Jungkook and Jin continue to knead at their own pile of dough as they each sneak glances over at you. You continue at your pile of dough to distract yourself from the encounters you had with the two of them.

"Oh, mine is getting super sticky." You wail, and Jungkook jogs over to assist you. 

Jungkook stands behind you and tosses flour over the dough. 

"It’s okay, it's just too wet ." Jungkook says into your ear, and then puts his hands on top of yours to help you knead the dough. It sends a shiver down your spine, and you try to suppress the urge to bite your bottom lip.

Jungkook shoots Jin a satisfied look as he walks by, and Jin glowers at him. 

You realize at that moment that they both reached the same conclusion at the same time: they both fucked you.

The air between the three of you thickens as you all knead in silence — all of you attempting to sneak glances at each other. 

After a few moments, Jin clears his throat.

“We should all have aperitivo here tonight.” 

You and Jungkook nod, sensing Jin is up to something.

***

The three of you sit on the floor with your legs underneath a small coffee table that’s adorned with small candles. A decadent spread of meats, cheeses and wines is before you. 

There’s still a certain silence between all of you, Jin and Jungkook on either side of you.

“The class was nice,” You start, trying to clear the air. 

Jin reaches his hand out for the last cheese cube and Jungkook steals it. Jin hums and then glowers at him, before feeding you a slice of meat. 

“So, thank you,” You can still sense a certain electricity between the two. 

As you take a sip of prosecco, your eyes lock with Jin’s — his sensual expression drawing you in as he looks at you.

“Something you must know about me is that I don’t like sharing,” Jin begins and you place your glass down to focus your attention on him. “But...I wouldn’t mind doing so tonight.” 

Jin‘s voice hits your ears like honey. You feel your pulse pump in your throat before Jin starts to close in on your lips. He stops just before his lips meet yours to look at you, and you nod.

Jungkook observes the two of you and gets the hint before turning your chin to face him. 

You're taken by surprise as he looks down at your lips, and then up to your eyes a few times before he envelops your lips in his. 

The two continue the fight for your lips: Jungkook’s kisses were unrestrained and bold. Jin’s kisses were more drawn out — torturous and focused. You pant as the different sensations and sudden switches between the two men start to overwhelm your senses.

The two of them smooth their hands over your bare inner thighs under your skirt as they move to kiss your neck and shoulders. They peel off the straps of your bra as they watch you, and you gasp in desperation as they reveal your fully erect nipples. 

Jungkook and Jin move to lick your breasts, but they only lick just outside of your nipples. You whine as you comb your fingers through their hair, desperate for relief. Jungkook and Jin always just miss contact with your dampening folds below — and you can’t help but think they’re trying to punish you. 

Your try to squeeze your legs together to alleviate the ache, but the two part your legs, holding you firmly open. 

"Please." You whine out before Jungkook slips his palm over your underwear and then moves to press his fingers to rub circles into your throbbing clit. You sigh in relief as you turn your head to look at him.

Jin slinks away —- standing up to slowly unbutton his shirt as he watches the two of you.

Jungkook takes you over and unleashes the full fury of his lips and tongue on your mouth. His hands frantically roam the curves of your body as you let out achy moans. Your fingers pull at his hair as he squeezes one of your legs between his thighs — and you feel him start to grind his rock solid cock on your leg. 

Jungkook nibbles on your neck, his hot breaths moving to the depths of your ear. He starts to unbutton his shirt as he continues to kiss you.

All you can do is let out a cry of pleasure as Jin moves back in, capturing your breast in his mouth. You whine as you feel Jin pull your underwear to the side —- beginning to slide his slender fingers into your wet crevice. 

“Does that feel good?” Jungkook asks, placing small kisses on your lips as you try to nod through the pleasure.

Goosebumps veil your skin as Jungkook trails kisses down your body — his long hair tickling your skin until he reaches between your legs. 

You’re now fully able to concentrate on Jin’s plush lips, taking them into your own. You reach down and massage his bulge before he pulls his lips from yours after a moment to watch Jungkook.

Jungkook hooks his fingers into your underwear and starts to roll them down, inch-by-inch, as he places light kisses on your sensitive inner thighs. 

You bring a finger to your mouth to bite your nails as Jungkook’s eyes fuck into yours — relishing in how he’s torturing you. 

Jungkook finally slips your underwear off in one quick motion before he dives into you. You let out a guttural groan, but Jin captures it with his lips.

“How does my little kitten taste?” Jin asks you through kisses. Your brows furrow together after he suddenly releases your lips, and you watch him slink down between your legs.

Jin watches Jungkook lap at you for a minute. 

“Is she sweet?” Jungkook nods, and then pulls back. Jin licks a few stripes up you before the two take turns licking you, and you hook your arms over the back of the couch as you watch them.

Jin pulls you over to his bed, resting your head in his now-naked lap. You grab his cock and start to suck at it as Jungkook enters you. You moan onto Jin, and he starts to caress your head as you work. 

Jungkook lets out strained groans as he takes in the scene between you and Jin as he pumps into you. 

The pleasure Jungkook provides you causes you take Jin deeper into your mouth, despite his large size. Jungkook’s pace gets sloppier and more frantic as he watches you, and you stop sucking Jin to look at Jungkook pounding into you. 

"You're so fucking tight. Shit." The eye contact between you two causes Jungkook to lose it, and he pulls out — exploding his load onto your abdomen.

Jungkook pants as Jin flips you onto your stomach —- lifting your hips into the air. 

Jin enters you from behind and you groan at his thickness as you take him in. Jungkook slides down next to you, watching as Jin snaps his hips into yours. You moan at each thrust, and Jungkook takes your lips into his. 

“You like that?” Jungkook asks between kisses, and you give him a frantic nod. 

“Fuck her. Harder.” Jungkook’s kisses grow firmer — and Seokjin’s thrusts deeper and more ruthless, and it sends you over the edge. You freeze from the intensity of the pleasure, and the pressure of your walls causes Jin to release inside of you.

All three of you pant as you collapse next to each other. 

You press your head into the bed as you catch your breath. It exposes your neck, and the two press kisses into the vulnerable skin.

“I don’t think I can ever leave this bed now.” You say as your fingers push through their hair, and you feel their lips curl up on your skin.

“Whatever do you mean?” Jin props his head up in his hand. “We haven’t even eaten dinner yet.” 

Jungkook looks to Jin and the both of them smile down at you.

You bite your lip and cover your eyes before you let out a buoyant laugh.

Fuck.

Maybe men weren’t quite so cancelled after all.

notes: y'all alive after that? ;) fellow collaborators: smuttymess | som-siren | chaosbulldog navigation: kim taehyung on vacation - (eros) | masterlist

[artificialqueens]

and i'll call you when the party's over (jan/gigi) - aries

summary - there are two sides to every story, but that doesn’t make either one less complicated.

a/n - (dj khaled voice) Another One. i liked the oneshot i posted a few days ago enough to attempt a companion/prequel thing that turned out to be half as long, apparently! thanks as always to alex for being a great beta and providing me with the idea for this in the first place <3

Sunday, November 29th

‘-But I’m not really a popcorn person,’ Jackie sighs. ‘It’s too salty. I don’t want to have to keep stopping to drink water if I’m watching a movie too, you know? That’s, like, triple multitasking.’

Gigi laughs, grabbing the bucket of popcorn and pulling it closer to herself, taking a handful. 

‘I like it,’ she says, her mouth now half-full. ‘You can get it sweet, though.’

‘No, but that defeats the point, i’d rather just get chocolate or something.’ Jackie turns to her left and nudges Jan on the shoulder. She doesn’t look up from her phone.

‘Who are you texting?’ Nicky asks, stealing the bucket from out of Gigi’s lap. ‘They’re stealing you from us. We need your opinion on movie snacks.’

Jan smiles and her eyes light up as she locks her phone and places it on the cushion beside her. ‘Nobody,’ she replies, but the mischievous, almost childlike grin on her face says otherwise. ‘Movie snacks?’

‘We’ve been talking about this for like ten minutes,’ Gigi sighs, irritated. ‘Weren’t you listening?’

Jan grins back at her, mock offended. ‘I was totally listening!’ She gasps. Her phone vibrates, as does the cushion. Gigi looks at it in disgust, and pretends to be nonchalant as Jan’s Fleetwood Mac ringtone echoes through the room. She sits in silence, trying her best to twist her expression into something less sour.

‘ God, just answer the phone,’ Nicky laughs. ‘We can live without your input on this for once.’ Jan grabs her phone and laughs, walking out of Jackie’s living room and closing the door behind her. 

‘Who do you think it is?’ Asks Jackie, turning her head back to face the others. Gigi shrugs, grabs the popcorn back, and shoves a handful in her mouth to stop the bitter comments before they can escape.

‘She’s been talking to that Jake guy a lot,’ Nicky suggests, picking up the tv remote. ‘From biology, or something. He seems okay, I don’t really know him.’

Jackie nods, entertained, and returns the topic of conversation to the important distinction between types of M&Ms. Gigi grabs another handful of popcorn, and stays silent.

Wednesday, December 23rd

Jackie’s never one to half-ass anything, and holidays are no exception, apparently - when Gigi arrives at her house, gift box in one hand, bottle of Bailey’s in the other, she has to take a second to drink it all in. She’s hung fucking mistletoe. Christ.

They’re all sat around the dining table, Mariah Carey is playing in the background, and for a self-proclaimed Christmas hater, Gigi’s pretty content. Jackie pulls a spinner from some board game or other out and flicks it, grinning when it lands on Gigi.

‘okay, G, you go first,’ she smiles, rubbing her hands together. ‘Who’d you get?’

Gigi grabs the gift box from the floor next to her and pushes it across the table to Nicky, whose mouth drops open in surprise. ‘No way,’ she squeals. ‘You bitch, you kept that so secret!’

‘That’s the whole point,’ laughs Jan, tapping the table in excitement. ‘Go on, open it, I wanna see!’

Nicky unties the gift bow and slides the lid off the box, grabbing its contents. ‘A necklace?’ She questions, squinting at the piece of jewellery in her hands. ‘What does it say?’

‘Prettier,’ Gigi replies. the other three glance at her, confused. ‘There was one that just said pretty,’ she explains, ‘and this, and I didn’t think you’d appreciate being second best.’

They continue around the table with gifts. Nicky buys Jackie some kind of expensive perfume that would seem insincere and impersonal from anyone else, but is so quintessentially Nicky that nobody seems to mind. Jackie gives Jan some cute flower earrings and a gift card to a bakery that she loves. 

‘So you can stop hassling us for cupcakes,’ she explains, and Jan laughs in response, and it’s music to Gigi’s ears, always has been.

‘My turn, then,’ Jan smiles, pushes a gift bag across to Gigi. She pulls out sheets of lilac tissue paper to find what feels like a weirdly-shaped sack. When she lifts it out of the bag, the others’ confusion is evident.

‘It’s a cat,’ Jan clarifies, reaching over to tap one of the points on the gift that Gigi thinks, if she squints, could resemble ears.

‘Is it?’ Asks Jackie, face twisted. 

‘You sure?’ Nicky snorts and whacks her on the arm.

‘Yeah!’ Jan fake glares at them, and locks eyes with Gigi. ‘I made him for you, because you mentioned that one time that you wanted a cat but your mom’s allergic.’ 

Gigi thanks her, and the smile doesn’t leave her face all night. 

She names the cat Charlie. He sits at the foot of her bed from then on, and she can’t help but grin every time she sees him.

Sunday, March 6th

‘If we can’t agree on something, we can always just rewatch Mean Girls,’ Gigi suggests, leaning her head back against her pillow and rubbing her eyes. ‘It’s a classic for a reason.’

Nicky groans, throws a cushion across the room, laughs as it flies and hits Gigi in the head. ‘I’m so fucking bored of mean girls.’ Gigi flips her off and picks up her phone, busying herself by scrolling through the same ten instagram posts in her feed she’s seen twenty times today already.

‘We could watch Stranger Things or something?’ Jackie pipes up, scrolling through Netflix. ‘I’ve heard that’s good.’

‘Ooh, Jake said he didn’t like it, though,’ Jan replies, looking up from her phone for a whole second before glancing back down and laughing at something she sees. 

‘Ooh, Jake isn’t fucking here, ’ Gigi snaps, slamming her phone onto the couch beside her. ‘Can’t you think for yourself, or would he not like that either?’

It’s so quiet, you could hear a pin drop. Jan’s face drops, and Gigi feels a guilt unlike anything she’s ever known before at the sight of her staring blankly across the room, eyes welling up with tears. Her eyes narrow and she shakes her head, stands up, and walks out silently. The sound of the door slamming behind her echoes and hits Gigi like a bullet through the chest.

Monday, March 7th

nicky - hey babe, u doing okay? (2:07am)

            i just spoke to jan. i know u probably don’t want to but i think u should apologise. wouldn’t want her to be too upset u know? (2:08am)

            anyway did u see that cat vine i tagged u in on ig?? (2:15am)

-

gigi - hey can i call you? i feel like doing this over text isn’t right (10:12am)

jan <3 - of course! give me a min. (10:12am)

-

jan <3 - make sure you send me the link to that cat video!!!🐱💞 (1:45pm)

Saturday, June 11th

For Jan’s birthday, they congregate in her kitchen and take shot after shot of cheap tequila until Nicky can’t take a step without falling face-first onto the cold linoleum tiles. Jackie sighs, picks her up like it’s nothing and carries her into the living room, rolling her eyes. 

‘She’s such a mom,’ Jan comments, pulling herself up to sit on the counter, swinging her legs back and forth like a kid on a swing. If she notices her heels hitting the cabinets a bit too hard, she doesn’t say anything. Gigi laughs and jumps up beside her, grabbing onto Jan’s arm when she nearly falls, collapsing into giggles on her shoulder when she makes it up successfully.

‘Happy birthday,’ she says, holding onto Jan’s hand just a bit too tight. Jan thanks her, still laughing.

‘It’s weird to do this on a Saturday,’ Jan muses, squeezing Gigi’s hand. ‘I’m so used to Sundays with you all, it feels wrong.’

‘No!’ Gigi replies, and Jan winces at her volume. ‘You’ve had a really nice day!’

‘I have, yeah,’ she giggles, nodding.

‘What’d you get?’ Gigi asks, swings their hands back and forth. ‘From people that weren’t me.’

‘A lot of gift cards,’ Jan replies. ‘And chocolate. Pretty boring.’

‘What about Jake?’

Jan scrunches up her face and shudders. ‘He got me a fucking Forever 21 gift card.’

Gigi scoffs, lets go of Jan’s hand and places both hands on her face, turning Jan’s head to meet her eyes. ‘ Fuck him,’ she says, more force in her words than she realises. Jan smiles, but it doesn’t meet her eyes. Gigi looks at her, confused.

‘No, I didn’t mean to make you sad,’ she mumbles, shaking her head. Don’t be sad, it looks weird on you, you’re so pretty.’

Jan tilts her head up and there’s something in her eyes, soft and weird and wonderful, that makes Gigi feel like she’s floating. She swears she sees Jan glance down at her lips and lean in for a split second, but she’ll never know. 

Jackie pushes open the kitchen door and Jan springs back, pulls her hands away to fiddle with something on the other side of the counter. Jackie asks if they have any aspirin, Nicky’s complaining about a headache. Gigi hops off the counter, makes her way to the bathroom, and locks the door behind her.

Thursday, August 18th

There’s something about the way Nicky’s looking at her from across the table that scares the shit out of Gigi, but she tries her best to ignore it and grabs another slice of pizza, glancing around the restaurant. Neither of them have spoken much the whole time they’ve been out - it’s weird, for the lack of a better phrase.

‘So what, did you just feel like treating me?’ Gigi asks, laughs nervously, takes a sip of her Coke through its red-and-white striped straw. Nicky looks at her and her eyes are so full of poorly disguised pity it makes Gigi feel like a child.

‘You know I’m not one to avoid bringing shit up, right?’ Nicky replies, stirring her drink absentmindedly. Gigi nods. ‘What’s up?’

‘And it’s only coming from a place of love-’

‘Nicky.’

‘You,’ she says, slamming one hand on the table, ‘need to suck it up and get the fuck over Jan.’

Gigi’s eyes widen and she inhales too fast in shock, choking on her drink. Nicky watches, failing miserably to bite back laughter.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Gigi takes another sip and her eyes dart around the room, trying to find something distracting to focus on.

‘Don’t bullshit me,’ Nicky laughs. ‘It’s been two months since her birthday party, and I don’t know what the fuck happened, but I haven’t seen you speak to her since, and I hate it. You’re acting as if she’s poisonous.’

She is, now, thinks Gigi. She may as well be. 

‘I don’t need to get over anyone,’ she stresses. ‘Nothing happened , we just haven’t spoken much recently.’

‘I do talk to Jackie, you know,’ Nicky replies, reaching across the table to grab Gigi’s hand. ‘I’m just saying this because I care about you. I don’t want anything between us all going sour. I love you all too much. Also, she has a boyfriend.’

Gigi smiles, but she’s sure it comes out as more of a grimace. ‘If you care so much, can you drop it? Nothing will go sour, because nothing happened.’

Nicky shoots her a knowing look, but does as she asks.

Saturday, October 1st

When Jake breaks up with Jan, she messages their group chat in floods of tears, and Gigi’s never invited them over faster. A stupid move, maybe, but for a second, as she types, she’s just Jan’s friend, and she wants to be there for her.

It was a stupid move. Definitely a stupid move.

She sits with Jan, holds her for hours on end, wipes her tears and orders the other two around to try to cheer her up as much as possible. There’s a kind of sick sadistic enjoyment in knowing she’s the only person that can make Jan feel better and she doesn’t want to acknowledge it in the fucking slightest, so she doesn’t, lets it bubble underneath the surface but keeps it contained until she can’t handle it anymore. When it gets to that point, she grabs the wine.

She lays next to Nicky making stupid Grease references and then Jan leaves and they’re alone, and her mood shatters into pieces, and all she wants to do is sweep them under the coffee table with the rest of the overpriced breakup cupcakes and leave them there.

‘What’s wrong, doll?’ Nicky grabs her hand and squeezes it comfortingly.

‘Is it bad that I’m happy about it?’ Gigi asks, tilting her head towards the door, avoiding eye contact at all cost. ‘Does that make me a bad person?’

‘What, being happy that your best friend just got dumped? Yeah, maybe?’ Nicky comments, narrowing her eyes. ‘Didn’t we talk about this? I don’t think this is the best time to let your feelings come into play, G.’

‘It’s not my feelings,’ Gigi replies, her voice quiet. ‘I just mean because he was kinda gross to her, that’s all.’ There’s not much conviction in her voice, and it seems like she’s trying to convince herself more than anything. Nicky buys it, somehow.

Sunday, October 16th

She kisses Nicky for the first time outside of a bar. It’s too early to warrant them being anywhere near drunk, and she tastes like cheap wine, and it feels rushed, and impulsive, but not wrong. She checks her phone and they’re late to meet Jan and Jackie, and she feels like she shouldn’t feel as bad about it as she does, because Nicky doesn’t seem to care at all.

They stop at a corner store on the way to Jackie’s house to pick up some snacks, and Gigi tries her best to ignore the tightness in her throat when Nicky grabs her hand as they’re walking along the street.

She turns to Gigi suddenly, grabs her other hand as she walks backwards, and almost makes her drop the plastic bag. 

‘What are we?’ She asks, her dramatic faux-old Hollywood movie accent strong. She looks at Gigi with dark, worried eyes, stays silent for a good five seconds, and then she laughs, and Gigi laughs with her, relieved she was joking, unsure of how she’d have coped if Nicky was serious. Nothing , she thinks. And I think I want to keep it that way .

Nicky kisses her again, spontaneous and odd, against the wall of an alley near Jackie’s house. Gigi feels like a kid, sneaking around in the sunset, but she thinks maybe she could get used to it. If she closes her eyes and focuses hard enough, she can almost mess up the mental picture enough to turn Nicky’s hair blonde, and her eyes blue, and her hands softer, and make everything how she wishes it was.

They get to Jackie’s, and neither of them say a word. Gigi sees Jan’s dejected eyes when they show up, and she wishes she’d gone to that stupid fucking family party after all.

Sunday, October 30th

They stick a dumb horror movie on the tv and let it play as background noise once Jackie leaves. It hits one in the morning and Gigi and Nicky are the only ones awake. It’s weird of Jan to fall asleep so early, but Gigi can’t bring herself to engage her in conversation long enough to keep her up and Nicky’s too busy shit-talking people on her instagram feed to create much of a compelling reason for her to be up, either.

Gigi looks between them and feels suddenly, overwhelmingly lost, and she wants to get up and escape, get a glass of water, clear her head, but it’s like she’s frozen in place. She doesn’t want to be around either of them right now, but lucky for her, she’s with both, and acknowledging whatever the hell’s going on with either would be equally painful. 

So she sits, eyes glued to the shitty slasher flick on the screen in front of her, and tries to focus on the plot enough to distract herself from the room she’s in. 

Nicky taps her on the shoulder and breaks her trance, beckons her over to the corner she’s in.

‘Look at this,’ she whispers, pushes her phone towards Gigi to show her some kind of gross-looking outfit picture taken by god knows who. ‘Can you believe people leave the house like that?’ Gigi laughs, but it’s more of a formality than anything else. Nicky scrolls down and finds an old favourite vine and they laugh together, genuinely this time, watch it on repeat a few times.

Nicky looks at Gigi and sighs, hooks a finger under her chin and tries to pull her closer. ‘ Stop it,’ she objects, the sternness she tries to convey masked by the last of her laughs at the joke. ‘Not with Jan here.’

‘She’s asleep, baby,’ Nicky insists. ‘It’s fine.’

Gigi shakes her head and pushes herself back across the wooden floor, leaving Nicky confused. ‘Later?’ She mouths, and Gigi gives her a half-hearted nod, pulling herself to her feet. As she walks to the kitchen, trying to ignore Jan’s heavy breathing from the couch, she wishes she could just leave, walk off into the night, and not have to talk to either of them for as long as possible.

[ohtheseboysilove]

Omg, I’m living for the winter writing prompts! Could you possibly combine 1 and 6, smutty and fluffy with Ben?

01. we just had a one-night stand but a massive storm hit so now we’re snowed in, hello awkward.

+

06. we always carpool home for the holidays from college but a storm hit and now we’re taking the last room at the local b&b (bonus: bedsharing! we’re adults!)

4248 words (???). Smut and fluff.

!!! Christmas / Winter prompts !!!

"You got everything ?"

You nodded with a tired smile and slid into the car seat, buckling your belt, immediately turning on the heater. The weather was bloody cold and foggy, making you winced.

"You’re sure it’s safe to drive home ?” You asked as Ben jumped behind the steering wheel, taking off his favourite brown beanie from his head.

You chuckled at the mop of curly blond hairs emerging on the top of his head, making him looked much younger than his age.

"My mom said it must be alright, if it’s not snowing we should be okay" He shrugged, always the positive one and started the car, letting you decided for the music. "And I don’t know you but I, really want to go back home for Christmas, no way I’m staying in my shitty uni room for the holidays” He smirked, one hand on the wheel and the other hand scratching the stubble on his chin, eyes focusing on the busy road.

“Yeah, true" You agreed and changed the radio station until you stopped when you heard the familiar rhythm of an old Arctic Monkeys’ song.

You and Ben were from the same little town in the north of England so for every holidays — when the two of you went back home at least — the both of you did the travel together. You shared the petrol price and sometimes when Ben was really tired, he would ask you to drive. It was a win-win situation. So for the third year in a row, you were driving to home, only five little hours away from your native town.

Only two hours into the travel, the traffic was still awful, cars barely moving as everyone wanted desperately to go home for Christmas.

"Ben, close this fucking window ! It’s bloody cold" You scolded him as he took a big puff of his cigarette, blowing the smoke outside the car.

"If I don’t have my fag right now, I’m gonna wreck this asshole who is honking for the past five minutes" The blond groaned and yelled something to the man, giving him his middle finger when he finally managed to pass him. “What a prick" Ben scoffed and watched him drive away, his hands and lips red from the coldness.

"You have literally no patience" You chuckled and popped a m&ms in your mouth, lazily chewing it.

The blond shrugged and threw his cigarette butt on the road, earning a warning glance from you. He gave a big innocent smile and you would lie if you said that your heart didn’t miss a beat at this moment.

"Gimme one, missy" He opened his mouth, head lightly turned toward you.

You threw it one which fell on his lap then somewhere on the floor, he complained about your aptitude to throw correctly and you gave him your middle finger for all answer. He asked again and this time the sweet hit him square on the teeth, a pathetic whine escaping from his plump lips.

"You’re such a baby" You rolled your eyes.

"Am not, you could have break my fucking teeth" He scolded and ran his tongue on his mouth, checking if everything was still here in the little mirror above his head. "Now gimme one correctly please"

"For a rugby player you’re a total pussy, you know that ?" You sighed and handed him the packet, ignoring the memories about the few times you had the chance to witness Ben in his tight little rugby short. It was true sight for the eyes. The blond smirked with amusement but didn’t move his hand, simply opened his mouth. "I’m not gonna feed you, Benjamin" You stated with a death glare, pushing another m&m’s in your mouth instead.

"My hands are busy" He gave you a cocky grin, wiggling his fingers firmly wrapped around the wheel. "Come on, pretty please ?" He fluttered his eyelashes exaggeratedly but you simply ignoring him, gaze looking outside the window.

"Ouch !" You gasped when you felt a harsh pinch on your right thigh. "Asshole" He simply smiled wider, still waiting for his chocolate.

He squeezed your thigh again and this time you decided to cave. The warmth of his hand around your leg was distracting you way too much. And you still have few more hours before arriving home so it wasn’t really the time to get naughty thoughts about Ben. You pretended to be annoyed and grabbed two m&ms, popping them between his pink, pillowed lips. You felt warmth spread around your neck when he playfully bit your digits, giving you a teasing smile.

"Thanks, love" He sent you a smirk and gazed back at the road, a satisfied smile floating in his face.

You mumbled a low ‘you’re welcome’ and swallowed nervously, hoping your cheeks weren’t as red as you were feeling hot. That was the thing with you and Ben, this constant...sexual tension. You knew each other for three years, hanging out together sometimes, no quite as usual as you did with your other friends but still friends nonetheless. Ben was hot, you couldn’t denied that and you weren’t bad yourself, you caught him checking you out more than once and he probably did the same with you but nothing never happened. Mostly because when you met, you had a boyfriend for most of the year. Then he started seeing this girl from his class when you broke up with Chris. Timing was always a bitch for the two of you and honestly you weren’t a fan of one night stand with one of your friend. It could be really awkward. But for the first time that you found the both of you stuck in the car for hours, you were both completely single. Meaning anything could happen. But you weren’t sure if you wanted something to happen. Or if he wanted that.

**

You were already three and half hours into the drive home but still bloody far away as the roads were busy and slowed down because of the bad weather. You both decided to stop for a wee and a coffee at the first gas station.

"I took you a latte" Ben yawned when you came back from the toilet, seating in front of him at the little picnic table outside.

"Thanks Benny” You lazily replied, the cold wind making winced.

You drank in silent and quickly, stealing little glances to each other. You hated how cute he looked with his beanie back on his head, few curls escaping from it.

"I’m gonna buy fags, do you need anything, love ?" You shook your head and thanked him when he threw you the car keys.

You rapidly went back into the warmth of the car and slid off your shoes before dropping your clothes feet on the dashboard, stretching lazily your arms.

"It’s so bloody cold" Ben complained when he came back few minutes later, rubbing his hands together as he sat back. "And bad news, it’s snowing"

"It is ?" You gasped and opened the window to check, few snow flakes falling slowly onto your hands before melting. "Shit"

"The cashier said a storm is coming and most of the road would be close soon enough" You dropped your head back into the seat with a desperate groan. "He said there is a little motel not far from here but we should get going if we want to find available rooms" He sighed and looked at you, a grimace on his face.

"Great, this is great" You crossed your arms above your stomach and shrugged. "Well let’s go I guess. We don’t really have any choice, right ?" You watched Ben nodded weakly as he started driving again, fingers drumming nervously on his thigh.

You only had fifteen little minute to the cheap motel but the weather turned out absolutely horrible. It was now heavily snowing, you could barely see the road and it was quite dangerous to keep going without snow chains. When Ben finally reached the motel you were both relieved and quickly made your way to the reception, praying there way still rooms.

"Hi, could we rent two rooms for tonight, please ?" You asked with your nicest, pleading smile.

The old lady at the reception checked the reservation on a clipboard, her glasses pressed on her nose as she looked for available rooms.

"Unfortunately we have only one room left for tonight, would you still have it ?"

You and Ben exchanged a quick glanced and immediately accepted. The options were pretty limited anyway. She handed you the keys of the fifteenth room on the second floor and the blond told you he would go grab your and his stuffs. You walked to the room and sadly, it wasn’t twin beds but only a double one in the middle of the room. The situation was awfully cliché but it did make you nervous.

You sighed and checked the tiny little bathroom, your body craving for a hot shower. You decided to take one now, it would be done for the night as it was already six in the evening.

"Feeling better ?" You almost jumped as you found Ben laying on the bed, one arm flexed under his head as he watched something on the small t.v hanging on the wall.

"Yeah, much better" You tightened your grip around the white towel around your body as you entered the room, looking into your bag for some comfy clothes.

You felt your heartbeat quickened as Ben’s eyes followed your movements, glancing at your legs freshly exposed. It was certainly going to be a tense and long evening.

**

The both of you were munching on ham sandwiches nicely made by the lady owning the hostel as mostly everything around was close because of the snowstorm, the electricity was long gone because of the weather. No t.v or lights. That why you were in a strange romantic atmosphere with candles and flash lights, seating criss-crossed on the bed, sharing a bottle of rhum together. The heater wasn’t really good and there was nothing much to do expect play cards and get drunk.

"Alright, you won again" Ben sighed and threw his cards on the night table after losing for fifth time in a row against you. "Can we do something else ? It’s not fun anymore” He complained as you beamed with pride, loving teasing him about your wins.

"You’re a sore loser Benjamin” You smirked and took a good swing of the rhum, grimacing a bit at the strong taste. "But I agree, it’s a bit boring to always beat your ass"

He rolled his eyes and snatched the bottle from your hands, taking an equal big sip as you.

"Never I have ever...suck a dick" Ben grinned, apparently really proud of his phrase as he knew you would probably drink.

"Very mature, Benny" You clicked your tongue but took a sip, feeling like in a fucking teenage movie. You played to this kind of game quite often but with much more people in the room usually. You felt like the situation could get out of hand really quickly. "Never I have ever...lick a pussy" You decided to play his little game and childishly blew him a raspberry.

"You don’t know what you’re missing. Pussies are delicious" He shrugged and drank, running his tongue on his pillowed lips to catch a lost drop of rhum. Your neck warmed at the thought of Ben eating you out, his pretty red face buried deep inside your thighs could certainly be a beautiful view.

The game went on with stupid sex questions which had for only goal to make the other drank more. When you both ran out of ideas you stopped the games and instead told each other awkward and a bit embarrassing anecdotes.

"He didn’t not !" You giggled loudly as Ben’s eyes were wide open after you told him about the time you ended up spending the night with a weirdo. "God, that’s crazy"

"Right ? And fuckin’ embarrassing, I was so drunk" You giggled more and squeezed Ben’s knees. "You turn now, mister Jonesy"

He nodded and wiggled his button nose, thinking about something funny to tell you. Your gaze lingered on his face, admiring his strong and perfectly well-define jaw, his high and beautiful cheek bones or his large shoulders barely hiding by his thin white cotton tee-shirt. You felt your features burned when you met his — gorgeous — green eyes, catching you checking him out shamelessly. He held your gaze for few seconds, wetting his pink lips with his tongue. You quickly looked away, pressure bubbling in your belly at his intense stare.

"Okay, I have a good one" Ben announced with a raspy voice. You looked back at him, ignoring the goosebumps spreading on your arms. How where you supposed to sleep next to him tonight ? "Do you remember Sasha’s party for his twenty-two birthday ?"

"Of course I do" You snorted at the memories, it had been a wild night.

"And this girl I brought home with me ? Natalia ?" You frowned your brows then nodded, remembering the beautiful blond girl from Sasha’s class. "So we hum...we had sex but I called her the wrong name" He confessed, the tips of his ears reddening.

"What ? Oh Ben, this is awful" You cackled loudly, covering your mouth with your hand to stop the stupid giggles.

"I know I wasn’t very proud" He playfully smiled and swallowed quietly, his Adam’s apple bobbing harshly. "And now she hates me"

"Can’t really blame her" You teased him.

"True but I can blame you" Ben said bluntly, his large palm rubbing his chest under his top. Thing he did when he was embarrassed.

"Me ?" You squealed with arched brow, not sure where he was going with this information.

"You" He repeated and you shared a long, heavy gaze, only broke when you watched his hand slowly rubbed on your clothed thigh. "I...I said your name that night" Your eyes widened but you stayed silent, not knowing if you were supposed to laugh or not. "I saw you wearing this tiny little skirt, the brown one and I couldn’t think about anything else that night" You felt your breath stopped for a long second, excitement bubbling inside your stomach.

"Y—yeah ?" You murmured quietly as he crawled next to you, his hot breath falling against your face.

"It’s wasn’t the first time I thought about when I was with someone else" He whispered back, the shadows of light from the candles were dancing on his face, the green of his eyes deeper than ever. "Thought about you a lot, more than I should" He slowly trailed a pad on your burning cheekbone, testing the water.

You were silent, a bit shocked by his words. Ben, probably one of the hottest person you ever met had naughty thoughts about you. It was insane. A pool of wetness was already forming in your knickers.

"I did too" You breathed quietly, shivers rolling down your spine at the just filling his pretty eyes. It was happening. For real.

"Can I kiss you ?" His nose bumped slightly against yours and for all answer you pressed your needy lips against his.

The kiss was hungry and hot, tongues quickly messing with each other, hands roaming on both of your bodies. It was a kiss from years of building tension finally exploding in a rough, eager kiss. You tugged on his top and he took the hint pretty quickly, throwing it somewhere on the floor as you immediately sponged pecks against his strong and smooth chest, heavy sighs escaping both of your mouth.

"God, I need to see you, love. Please" The blond murmured and you let go of his nipple, taking off your tee-shirt and exposing your bare breasts to the gorgeous man under you. "Holy shit, you’re so hot" He cursed, tongue trailing around your tits, one of his hand already working inside your pants, fingers rubbing against your socked panties.

"Ben, need more" You cried, hips bucking against his frame, your hand firmly gripping his curly hairs. "Take my pants off” You said in a panting pleading, watching him with quickly did it before doing the same with his own.

He didn’t lost a second and dove two fingers inside your mouth, making you suck them before caressing your folds, earning loud moans from you. Soon enough it wasn’t his fingers anymore but his burning tongue inside you, legs bended on his shoulders, his thumb taking great care of your throbbing clit.

"Oh shit" You whimpered, pressure building inside you dramatically quickly and you couldn’t do much expect pushing his mouth further between your legs. "Keep going Ben !" You rolled your left nipple between your digits, babbling incoherent words as you reached the edge of your orgasm.

You came in a shamefully loud pleading of Ben’s name, waves of pure bliss crashing down you. You could here him sucked his fingers clean, making you whimpered at the obscene sound. He grabbed your chin for a lusty kiss, teeth knocking against each other but frankly you couldn’t care less, you just needed him at this moment.

"Oh god, love !" Ben cried when you wrapped your fingers around his cock, giving few pumps on it.

"Do you have a condom ?" You breathed quietly, nails sinking into the skin of his neck as he nibbled naughtily your collarbone.

"Yeah" He pushed himself of the bed and you didn’t miss the occasion to look at his perky pretty ass before he came back, proudly shaking a condom. "Come here, love" You did as he said, spreading your legs just for him and he quickly rolled the protection on his hard length, his chest panting up and down. "You’re ready ?" You nodded, bottom lip trapped between your teeth as you watched his thick shaft disappeared inside you, a grunt falling from Ben’s throat at the same moment.

It was clearly better than you could have imagined.

**

You were freaking out. Hands against the sink and your gaze facing you into the mirror.

What now ?

You just had sex with Ben. Incredibly good sex by the way. But still, what now ? You hated this kind of awkwardness, you were already overthinking every little details of the evening and it was wasn’t looking good. You still have two hours and half of driving tomorrow with the blond, why on earth did you sleep with him ? Was it only a one-night stand ? Probably. He never mentioned any feelings toward you.

You swallowed nervously and after peeing, you splashed fresh water onto your face, taking a deep breath before joining Benjamin. He was casually laying under the covers, only wearing his boxer and it was incredibly distracting but you didn’t look at this chest, feeling already too uncomfortable. He was lazily scrolling on his phone and gave you a little, tight smile when he met your gaze. Awkward. He seemed as uncomfortable as you were. Great.

You hurried up to the bed, wearing your fluffy pyjama and slid under the heavy covers, barely looking at him.

"Goodnight, (Y/N)" He called your by your name and it was a very rare fact. You felt even worse, rolling the covers until your nose to hide your flushed face.

"Night, Ben" You closed your eyes and quickly fell asleep, as far away as possible from him, — without being too obvious — tired by the amazing sex you just had.

**

The next morning was even worst. Few words were exchanged as you both packed your things after a quick shower and a disgusting cup of coffee, making your way to the reception in a dead silence.

"Oh my dears, but the roads aren’t clear yet, the snowstorm is probably going back in the end of the morning so no circulation before at least tomorrow afternoon" The old lady explained when you handed her back the room’s keys.

"What ? Are you sure ?" You asked with nervousness, the thought of staying stuck here with Ben was making your stomach churned. You weren’t one for confrontation, more like avoiding awkward situation like this one.

"It’s all over the news, sweetie. The electricity is back but I’m not sure for how long" She gave you an apologetic smile and you kept the keys, not having much choice anyway.

Ben was surprisingly silent as you made your way back to the room, a ball of stress eating you alive. It was the worst fucking scenario ever.

"I’m gonna for a smoke" The blond said before disappearing quickly, leaving you all by yourself in the bedroom.

"Bloody hell" You cursed and let your face fell in your palms, wondering how the fuck you were supposed to spend more time together in this tense atmosphere.

You opted for a coward escape and slid under the covers, pretending to nap when you heard Ben in the hallway. He opened the doors and silently took his shoes off, seating on the side of his bed, sighing quietly.

"(Y/N) ? Are you awake ?" He murmured and ran a hand into your messy hairs, making you swallowed silently. "Come on, love, I know you don’t nap so early in the morning" You simply buried your face further into the covers, neck bright red with shame. "We need to talk" He added and tugged on the covers, trying to see your face.

"I’m sleeping" You mumbled and he simply chuckled, opting for an other tactic. He slid under the cover and moved until he was face to face with you.

"Hi there" Ben murmured with a little smile. "It too hot under these covers, how can you even breath ?" He exclaimed and you simply shrugged, nose buried into the pillow to avoid his intense gaze. "(Y/N), come on. I wasn’t that bad, was I ? Can you at least look at me ?" He tried to joke but the glance you gave him making stopped immediately.

You were so uncomfortable and Ben was just making the situation worse.

"I don’t wanna talk about it" You whispered. "We just had sex, it’s not a big deal" You mumbled with a bitter tone and wished you could just disappear from here right now.

The blond chewed on his lip for few seconds, one of his finger gently caressing the shape of your jaw, making you froze.

"I think it’s a big deal. Or you wouldn’t react like that. Not talking to me, barely looking at me" He stated the fact and you felt even more ashamed. It wasn’t your fault if you were the kind who get too easily attached or who couldn’t just have sex with someone then pretended it never happened. "I can’t read your mind, love. You need to talk to me" He slid two fingers under your chin, forcing you to finally look at him and you probably never felt more vulnerable than right now.

"Does it mean something to you ?" You murmured anxiously, cheeks burning from how uncomfortable you were. "Or was I just a...random shag ?"

"Of course not, (Y/N) ! You’re my friend, I would be totally stupid to go to you if I only want a quick fuck" Ben frowned his brows, a bit destabilised by your words. "I like you, (Y/N), I thought it was quite obvious" A delicate shade of pink painted on his face, his voice less confident than usual. "Especially after yesterday night"

You were both a blushing mess, the memories of the night before still freshly inked in your minds.

"I...didn’t know" You replied in a whisper. "You barely talked to me this morning, I thought you regretted it" You voice broke at the last word and Ben’s face fell when he noticed that you were hurt because of him.

"I’m sorry, I should have said something yesterday but you were so uncomfortable, practically running to the bathroom then going straight to bed..." He sighed heavily, his warm hand softly cupping your cheek. "I didn’t want to push you to talk to me so I thought we can talk about it today but it was even worst, I didn’t know how to speak about the subject anymore. I’m sorry if you felt like I used you like for a cheap and easy shag, it’s not true"

You let out a shaky breath, relief rolling down your body and pressed a hand on Ben’s cheek, giving him a timid smile.

"I’m sorry too, I hate awkward conversation and I didn’t know what to say so I just...avoid it" He rubbed his thumb against your skin before pressing a butterfly kiss on your cold nose. "But I like you too, Ben. For few months now" You admitted with a shiver.

"Try few years" He chuckled softly and you looked at him with shock. "It’s alright our timing had always been awful but we finally got it right” He winked and you nodded shyly, biting on your lip before capturing his mouth for a slow and tender kiss.

"You know what ? I’m pretty glad for this shitty snowstorm" You giggled as he trailed few pecks on your face, looking at you with tenderness.

"I think people called that a Christmas miracle" Ben smirked and you cackled louder before he found your lips again, sweet and perfectly shaped for each other.

**