#sarah's adventures in fic writing

[eternalgirlscout]

love to write a fic that i know will make 3 of my friends say "bestie i'm eating dirt about this one" and everyone else in the world go Now What The Damn Hell

[101flavoursofweird]

Thanks to @magicwhiskers29 for the tag!

Rules: Make a poll of your favorite female characters, as many or as little as you want, and see who your followers like the most!

Tagging: @northernscruffycat, @asa-liz, @wiz-witch, @tiny-knives, @pegasister60, @wordsofawanderingsoul, @fishagain5846, @call-me-rucy, @multiversal-madness

…And anyone else who wants to do this, please feel free :)

[tkwrites]

Five Days of Joy

Gif from neekshq

Title: Five Days of Joy

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts

Summary: Sarah joins Quinn at his family reunion. There’s laughter and tears and some spicy time as they sneak time alone. Sarah bonds with Jim over the loss of their mothers and explains why her dad loved Costco so much. She and Ellen bond over their partners being gone for stretches of time. A black bikini has Quinn practically drooling. The whole family goes on a beach adventure with Sarah in the lead. More than anything else, Quinn and Sarah fall more and more in love. 

Warnings: Smut (18+ Only!) There are 3.5 sex scenes spread throughout this piece: Unprotected sex - p in v (wrap it up unless you’re in a consenting relationship!), Oral & Fingering (m & f receiving), car sex, semi public sex if you squint, Angst and Fluff. Really, we’re going through the whole gamut here. 

Word Count: 16,400

Comments: This took an incredibly long time to write. Mostly because it's incredibly long. The longest fic I've written to date. I had so many days to encompass into this piece. There were several times when I thought a day was going to be quite simple, but the story demanded more.

I love the way it turned out and hope you enjoy it!

If you did, please let me know by commenting, reblogging, or sending in an ask. Your encouragement and comments truly inspire me to keep writing. 

Anonymous asked: i cant wait to see sarah come to the family reunion

Anonymous asked: omg the famiyl reunion and all the little cousins immediately loving sarah and her siting on the floor with them just playing and quinn watching with a love sick look

Anonymous asked: sarah coming to the lake house for the first time and being so exicted to see the water life there and all different living things and quinn is just sitting and walking with her as she looks at everything! did that make sense? idkkk

Anonymous asked: I've thought about Sarah taking some of Quinns cousins on a little adventure on the coast wading through tidepools during the family reunion. I think this would fit what you're thinking of a little more. 💜 AWWWW! yes this is even better!

nicenamebutitsalreadytaken asked: Some fic ideas…. #2: more Ellen and Sarah girl time! I loved their talks while they got pedis! #3: Jim and Sarah bonding over the loss of parents. Jim filling some sort of fatherly void in Sarah’s life. I know she’s too old for a father-daughter dance, but something of that vibe.

I feel like there were more asks that are being answered in this, but in looking through them, I couldn't find more.

Five Days of Joy

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

Day 1 (The Arrival):

Quinn reached over to squeeze her knee as they pulled up to the cabin. Okay, so it was more of a house, but for all intents and purposes, to his family, it was a cabin.

“Ready?” he asked. 

She pulled a deep breath into her lungs and nodded. 

At the crunch of tires on the gravel driveway, his cousins came running from the backyard, all lined up and clamoring for a front row view of Sarah’s arrival.  

“I’m sorry about this,” he said, glancing over at them. 

“About what?” 

“My cousins. They’re all really excited to meet you.”

“That’s sweet,” she said, glancing over at them. 

“They can just be a little much.”

She shrugged, “they can’t be any worse than my nieces were to you.” 

Ellen watched from the porch as Quinn laughed in the driver's seat of the car. It wasn’t that he was depressed without Sarah here, but he seemed a little looser with her beside him — quicker with a smile and a laugh. She hoped he would be a little more forgiving now that Sarah had finally arrived. Quinn always had a bit of a temper, but it seemed like she soothed some of it down. 

They got out of the car and Andrew’s kids jostled to the front of the crowd, bouncing off of and hitting each other in a way that was so reminiscent of her own boys, it made Ellen choke up a little. 

Walking around the front of the SUV, as Quinn pulled her bag from the back, Sarah waved. Even after a day of travel across the country by plane and then a two hour drive, her smile was still genuine. 

The smallest of the cousins, Nova, ran to Sarah right away. She didn’t miss a beat, squatting down to gather the five year old into her arms. 

“What’s your name?” 

“Nova! What’s yours?” 

“My name is Sarah. I like your dress.” 

“Thanks,” she said, swinging her hips as she pulled on the skirt of her striped dress printed with balooga whales. 

She ran back to her sisters, telling them in a whisper that could be heard from the next township, “she’s really pretty.” 

Laughing, Ellen stepped off the porch and gathered Sarah into a hug “I’m so glad you could come.”

“Thank you for inviting me. It’s so beautiful here,” she said as Quinn walked up and took her hand. “I’ve never been to New Hampshire.”

Introductions were made, at least 50 of them. The hardest thing for Sarah to keep track of was how everyone was related. Both Jim and Ellen’s siblings were there, as well as some friends that seemed like they were basically family. All of them were staying in houses rented nearby. On the drive, Quinn told her this was the first year they were bringing both families together. It just so happened that both were planning reunions over the 4th, so when Quinn’s parents suggested they all come together, everyone had agreed. 

“I hope it’s not too overwhelming,” one of his aunts said. 

“My mom is one of nine, so it can’t be any more confusing than my family,” Sarah assured.

“Well,” Ellen said, picking up one of her bags, “lets get you settled in.” 

Once everyone got over the novelty of her, Sarah excused herself to shower, saying she needed to “wash off the plane smell.” 

“You ready?” Ellen asked, finding Quinn in the front room, reading. 

“For what?” he asked at the same time she wondered, “where’s Sarah?” 

“The store,” she reminded. “We’re all going to make sure everyone gets what they want?”

“Oh, shit I’m sorry, mom,” Quinn said, “I completely forgot. Sarah’s in the shower.” 

Glancing at her watch, Ellen wondered if they could wait. 

“Just go. We’ll go later if we need to. I don’t want to leave her here alone.” 

His mom gave him a knowing glance and asked, “is there anything she really likes?” 

“Peppered turkey if you’re getting lunch meat,” he said, “and hot Cheetos if you’re getting chips.” 

Noting them on the shopping list, Ellen asked, “Cereal?” 

“She really likes raisin bran.” 

“Seriously?” 

He shrugged, “she has it all the time.” 

“Okay. Don’t have too much fun while we’re gone.” 

Rolling his eyes, Quinn mumbled that they wouldn’t and watched them pile into the cars and drive away.

By the time he’d waited to make sure no one was turning back, Sarah appeared in the doorway. “Where is everyone?” 

“The store. Mom wanted us all to go together, but I forgot.” If he weren’t so excited to be alone in the house with Sarah, he would call his mom to come pick them up. They couldn’t be far down the road. 

“Oh.” Guilt twisted at her stomach.

“It’s fine,” he assured, “we can go tomorrow if we need to.” 

 “That’s not really the same thing,” she said as she walked to the couch.

“It’s okay,” he assured. “My mom still loves you.”

She flopped onto the couch next to him and took his hand. She missed these simple things - the ease of touching him and the comfort of having him near. 

“I missed you,” she said, laying her head on his shoulder. 

“I missed you too,” he agreed, turning to press a kiss into her hair. 

It was so nice to just be close to her. This summer had to be this way, but it didn’t make missing her any easier. 

The longer they stayed pressed close to each other, the warmer she got. Not only from his furnace-like body heat, but also his smell and the feel of his solid, muscular chest under her shoulder. An insistent want to really feel him was growling deep in her. 

“What are you doing?” Quinn asked as Sarah climbed into his lap. 

Knees bracketing his hips, she settled on his thighs. “I thought that was obvious,” she said, tossing her hair over one shoulder and leaning in to kiss him. 

“Should we go upstairs?” 

“Want it now,” she whispered against his mouth.

“What if they come home?” he mumbled before their kiss could ignite. A trip to the grocery store wasn’t a short thing with their family, but with all of them together, he imagined they’d try to get out as soon as possible.  

“Just wanna make out for a while,” she said, lips feather light over his mouth. “We can have sex tonight.”

Quinn groaned, sinking fully into the kiss in a way he hadn’t yet allowed. It was difficult for him to convince himself to come up for air when they kissed like this, and letting that loose while his whole extended family was in the house wasn’t the best idea. 

“We have to keep this PG,” she said, moving his hands from where they were pushing her shirt up. 

“Why?” he whined. 

“Because your family is coming home. And who knows when they'll be back. I, for one, don't want to face your grandpa with my chest out because you couldn't wait."

“Which is why we should go upstairs,” he argued. 

“Just kiss me, Quinn.”

He obeyed, and as he pulled her hips flush to his own, decided he could wait until that night.   

“Jack, can you go in first and make sure Q isn’t doing something indecent?” 

Jack wrinkled his nose, “ew! Mom, no!” 

“Go,” she hissed, “they haven’t seen each other in three weeks. I don’t want one of the kids to walk in on them accidentally if they got carried away.”

“If they’re having sex in the front room, they deserve to be caught.”

“Jack, just go,” she said, leveling him with an exasperated stare. 

“Fine,” he grumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Upon entering the house, he found Sarah on top of his brother on the front room couch. They were, thankfully, fully clothed, but Quinn had a handful of her hair and a handful of her ass as they kissed. Sarah took a deep kissing breath. He could see her tongue, see the blissed set of Quinns features. He found himself smiling, glad that Quinn had finally found a girl to put up with him.

It was probably messed up, but this was the first time he’d found Sarah at all attractive. He felt pretty indifferent about her generally, but appreciated that she made Quinn happy and was willing to try with their crazy, extended family. Now, seeing Quinn hold her brought up torturous memories of Madeline - of feeling her curves and the solid weight on top of him.

One of his cousins came running up the front walk, and the sound of her sandals slapping against the concrete brought Jack back to the task at hand.

“Family’s home!” he yelled before Ellie got inside. 

Shocked, they sprang apart as if caught naked or robbing a bank. Sarah backed away so quickly that her calves hit the coffee table, and she plopped down on it to save herself from falling over. She wiped her mouth, and Quinn pulled a pillow onto his lap. They were looking everywhere but at each other. 

“Sarah,” Ellie asked, running into the room, “Sarah, did you put on lipstick?” 

Her hand went to her mouth, eyes wide as she finally looked at Quinn, who blushed. 

Jack laughed some more. “Nah,” he said, ruffling her hair, “that’s just what happens when the whole family has to go to the store to give you time to get it on.”

Sarah rolled her eyes and finally stood, adjusting her shirt. “We were not getting it on.” 

“Looked like it to me,” Jack said with a shrug. 

"Then you are watching the wrong kind of videos, my friend.” 

Quinn barked out a laugh, and Jack felt his cheeks flame at being razzed by her. He didn't know she had it in her.

After a long dinner filled with grilled steak and chicken and an enormous amount of laughter, Quinn felt even more sure of Sarah. He melted a little each time she caught on to his family's humor, and it seemed everyone loved her. At one point, his grandpa had even elbowed him in the ribs with a conspiratorial quirk of his eyebrows when they were at the food table together.

Later on, he found himself playing games with Sarah and some of his cousins' kids. The kids had begged her to join them, and she went happily. Unwilling to leave her side now that she was here, he joined in, too.  

“Can you show me all the fish?” Nova asked. 

“Of course,” Sarah said, “The next time you come to Vancouver, I’ll give you a tour. I can probably even get you backstage to meet Walter.”

“You’ve never offered to take me backstage,” Quinn said, his tone teasingly hurt. 

“I didn’t know you were interested,” she teased, “Nova obviously wants to see the fish.”

“Yeah, Q,” Nova said, sticking her tongue out at him, “I care about the fish.” 

Quinn laughed but wondered why Sarah felt like he wasn’t interested in what she did. Was he giving off the wrong impression?

“Do you think Walter will like me?” Nova asked. 

“I don’t know. He can be pretty picky about people. When you meet him, he’ll touch your hand with his tentacles,” she slowly wrapped her fingers around Nova’s arm to demonstrate. “Octopus use their suckers to suss out who’s good and bad.” 

Mia looked fascinated but horrified, “what?” 

“Yeah, they use them to taste and feel, and they can usually tell if they don’t like someone just by touching their skin.” 

“Did Walter like you right away?” Quinn asked. He’d never thought of it before. He had to like Sarah. She worked with him so much, they had to get along. 

“He was a little shy, but I kept coming back to do research, and eventually, he started to warm up to me.” 

“Can we see fish here?” Mia asked. 

Sarah glanced at Quinn, “we’re going to the beach, right?” 

He nodded, “on Friday, I think.” 

“I don’t know that we’d be able to see much in terms of snorkeling. It's mostly boring stuff out here - lobsters and fish for eating. It’s too cold for most of the fun stuff.” Mia looked instantly crestfallen, and Sarah continued, “but there’s always interesting stuff in tide pools. I’ll see if I can find us some to explore.” 

Mia beamed for the first time since they’d arrived. Since she’d turned 12, she’d been a bit moody and sulky in that teen way, wanting to hang out with her friends rather than spend the week with her family. Sarah taking her interests seriously obviously meant a lot to her.

“Quinn, there's no lock on this door,” Sarah said that evening as she closed it behind her before crawling into bed.

“So?”

“So anyone — your mom, your grandpa, one of your cousins — could just walk in.”

“They won't without knocking.”

As if on cue, the door flew open. “Is Mason in here?” It was one of Quinn's aunts. Or a friend who was basically an aunt? It was hard to keep track of who was actually related. 

“Nope,” Sarah said. 

“Oh, I’m sorry you two,” she said. “I hope I didn't interrupt anything.” 

Quinn gave her a tight smile, and she got the hint, closing the door softly behind her. 

Sarah arched an eyebrow in Quinn's direction as if to say, see? What did I tell you? 

“What does it matter if there’s no lock,” he asked, rolling on top of her, “we have to be quiet anyway.”

“We can’t have sex in here, Quinn,” she said. 

“Why not?” 

“As much as I want you to fuck me into tomorrow —” 

Burying his face in her neck, he groaned loudly as if the very prospect was painful to him.

“We can’t. Not when someone might walk in. What if one of the kids came in? We’d scar them for life.” 

He lifted his head and pouted, giving her his best begging eyes. “This is why I wanted to go upstairs before,” he said, trying to keep the whine out of his voice. 

“How was I supposed to know a bunch of kids would be sleeping in the family room across the hall?” she hissed, “or that there’s no lock on your door.” 

He knew she was right, but god, he couldn’t believe they were finally together and they couldn’t even have sex. 

“I think we could…” her voice trailed off at the same time her hand slipped between them to cup him over his pajama pants. 

“Don’t tease,” he said, jaw clenched. 

“I’m not teasing,” she said coyly. 

“Touching my dick when you won’t have sex feels like you’re being a pretty big fuckin’ tease to me.” 

“Just because we can’t have sex doesn’t mean I can’t get you off.” Her voice was a seductive whisper in his ear. 

He let out a kind of groaned whimper, tucking his face into her neck again. Fuck this room and it’s stupid fucking door without a stupid fucking lock. 

Her other hand guided his mouth back to hers. He was immediately swept up. He wanted to kiss every inch of her. 

Shivers coursed through her as Quinn’s lips trailed up to her ear. 

“I can’t stop thinking about the way you taste,” he whispered,  banking on the idea that she might loosen up a little if he got his mouth on her. Emphasizing his point, he lowered his lips to her neck, kissing and licking. 

As heat engulfed her, his name came out in a desperate whine. “That’s not fair.” 

When they were apart, it was fairly easy to pretend her own fingers were his, or her vibrator was his cock — they weren’t really the same, but her imagination could make up the difference — but nothing could simulate the feel of his mouth on her. She’d told him this just the week before when they were having phone sex while her roommates were both gone for the evening.

“Who said anything about playing fair?” Quinn asked, quirking his eyebrows. 

Her eyes darted to the door, listening as footsteps grew louder, then faded in the other direction. When she looked back at him, he was sliding down her body, his hands slipping up her thighs under her sleep shirt. 

“Quinn,” she admonished. 

“I can stay under the covers,” he said, winking as he lifted the blanket over his head. 

God, she wanted it so bad. 

“What if Nova came in?” she asked, trying to reason.

“Nova’s staying in a different house,” he reminded. They’d left at 10, her dad, Quinn’s cousin Andrew, carrying the little girl who’d fallen asleep right at the card table. 

Sarah made a frustrated noise and lifted the covers to look at him, “Quinn you know what I mean. Stop playing dirty.” 

A wicked grin took over his face, “this,” he traced a finger over her underwear that she knew were already damp, “would suggest you like when I play dirty.” 

She threw an arm over her eyes, “if someone walks in, you get to be the one giving an explanation, then.”

“I think my mouth is going to be otherwise occupied.” 

A keening, needy noise left her lips.

When he hooked his fingers in the waistband of her underwear, he paused, waiting for permission. As much as he wanted to do this, he wasn’t going to force her into anything. If she wanted to wait, he would. Begrudgingly, but he would. 

Sarah took a deep breath, her mind whirring and warring. Eventually, the side of her that wanted to make a good impression on his family won out. “I really, really want to, Q,” she said, “but —”

The resigned tone of her voice told him exactly how this was going to end. Sighing, he rested his forehead on her stomach. 

“I just… your whole family is in the house. It feels too…” 

If he thought with his brain and not his dick, he understood what she was getting at. It would be extremely awkward if anyone walked in on them. He wouldn’t put Sarah through that. 

“Yeah,” he said, flopping into the bed next to her. 

“But like I said, just because we can’t have sex doesn’t mean I can’t get you off,” she said, running a hand slowly up his thigh. 

Quinn wasn’t entirely sure how getting a handjob from her was all that different than just having sex. The bed would probably squeak less, he supposed, but it would still be awkward if someone walked in. They’d go for a drive the next night, he decided, if they didn’t get the chance to be alone before then. 

Her other hand slipped into his hair, nudging his mouth to hers. 

Even though it wasn’t exactly what he wanted, feeling her fall apart around his fingers while she stroked him and panted into his mouth was still heavenly. 

Day 2 (The Black Bikini):

The next morning, Quinn was talking with Luke when Sarah came out of the house, holding a jug of orange juice as she talked and laughed with his aunt. 

“I think it’s a…” he trailed off, the thought he’d been explaining evaporating completely the moment he saw her bikini. 

It made her look unbelievable - curvy and supple. The black cut beautiful shapes against her skin, and a shiny silver U linked the two halves together between her breasts. The high waistband of the bottoms peeking over the top of her undone denim shorts finished driving him out of his fucking mind.  She even had her hair in a braided ponytail, just like he liked. God, he wanted to put his mouth all over her.

Luke turned to follow his gaze and said, "Whoa."

"Yeah," he breathed before realizing and smacking his brother upside the head. "That's my girlfriend, dick." It felt so good at that moment to call her his. 

Luke held up his hands in surrender, "I'm not even interested in her, man. But if Ky wore a suit like that…" he trailed off, knowing better than to voice whatever he was thinking. 

She walked up the steps to the sundeck then, and he felt breathless with wanting. The metal U winked at him with every step she took. Somehow, she looked even better up close. 

Luke got up, mumbling something about needing to find someone. Sarah didn't catch who. 

She stopped next to Quinn's sun lounger and looked down, shielding her eyes from the bright morning sun. “Do I not get a good morning kiss?” 

He'd left to run around the lake with Jack, Luke, and Brendan before she'd gotten up that morning. She so rarely got to sleep in, he didn't wake her, despite the possibility of getting a few minutes alone before he had to leave.

He shook his head, “can't stand.” 

“What? Why? Did you hurt yourself?” 

He shook his head and glanced down, hoping she'd catch on. 

She followed his gaze, her mouth falling into an O as her cheeks went pink, which made it so much worse. God, why did she have to be so cute, too? 

She sat on the edge of his lounger, and he reached for her, gathering her against him, her back to his front. He wanted to hold her and also needed to cover exactly how excited this swimsuit made him.

She’d expected to lean back and feel his semi against her. Instead, he was hard and hot, fully turned on in a way he didn’t often get just from looking at her. Glancing over her shoulder, one of her eyebrows quirked.

“You come out here in this bikini when I haven't had you properly in nineteen days and expect me to just be normal about it?”

“Nineteen days?” she repeated. She knew it had been over two weeks, but she wasn't keeping a tally.

“I'm serious, Sarah,” he said, voice pained. “Do you have any idea how hot you look? How much you're driving me crazy?”

“I think I might,” she said, tracing a finger over his thigh, following the hem of his running briefs, exposed where his exercise shorts rucked up. 

He was acutely aware of her touch, of everyone around them, of her body heat seeping through his shirt and of just how much of her skin was exposed. His muscles twitched. 

“You're a tease, you know that?” 

“I'm a tease? You're the one out here all sweaty in these little shorts,” she countered as the tip of her finger traced under the elastic, “Your thighs out for everyone to see.”

That knocked him a little breathless. He knew she found him attractive. She often told him how handsome he was, but this kind of lusty wanting felt new. He sputtered.

“We could always go inside and lock ourselves in the bathroom,” she offered, her voice light and conversational, as her not-so-innocent touch trailed to his inner thigh. 

He made a noise in his throat as his body went to war with his brain. “You wouldn’t have sex in bed last night, but you’re fine with the bathroom today?” he asked, more confused than incredulous. 

“The bathroom has a lock. I guess it might be a little weird if someone saw us come out, though.” 

Quinn was struck with a vision of one of his cousins knocking on the door and how embarrassing it would be to have to walk out together, caught red-handed. Surely, his family knew how much he missed her, but there was only so far that understanding could go.

“Yeah.” Taking a deep breath, he mentally prepared himself for another day of wanting. If they couldn’t steal some time alone that day, he’d take a car and make a place for them to be alone. 

“I should go shower before breakfast,” he said, pressing a few quick kisses to her neck before darting into the house, hoping no one was paying too much attention.

All day, Quinn felt possessive of her in a way he usually didn’t.

More than once, he’d pulled her into his lap as she walked by. It wasn’t that he thought his cousins were going to do anything. He knew they wouldn’t, and he knew Sarah would never, but he had this basic, neanderthal-ish need to let everyone know that she’d chosen him. 

Every time he thought he was cool and didn’t need to remind everyone of their relationship, he’d catch someone checking her out, and it would rear up again, demanding to get his hands on her. She lets me touch her like this, the caveman inside him roared each time he did it. She likes me enough to let me do this.

Each time it happened, and Sarah suddenly ended up in Quinn’s lap, she laughed, chocking it up to finally being together after being apart for so long. To be fair, she didn’t want to go very long without touching him, either. 

“Let the girl breathe, Quinn,” his dad teased when it happened for the sixth time, “Jesus.” 

“I think it’s sweet,” his sister admonished. “Don’t you remember being that in love? I remember when Ellen had you that smitten.” 

“I do remember that, but I wasn’t ever as clingy as this guy, was I?” he asked, pointing at Quinn, who was busying himself threading his fingers through Sarah’s belt loops. 

“Oh, you were. You don’t remember mom telling you she’d never marry you if you didn’t give her some space to think?” 

Jim laughed, his face splitting into a broad grin, even as heat flooded into his cheeks. “I’d forgotten about that. That was some good advice. Ellen told me later she was thinking about breaking up with me because I was getting too clingy.”

He glanced at Sarah, only for her to give him a weak smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. 

Times like this, it always hurt to remember her mom wasn’t around to give sage advice and tease her about her new beau. She often wondered, even after her siblings and uncle had met him, how her parents would react to Quinn and to their relationship. The fact that she would never really know strangled her insides. 

Reaching over, Jim squeezed her hand, a sad, knowing look on his face. He knew what a smile like that meant. “It was pretty terrible when mom couldn’t be there for Luke’s birth,” he said. “I know it’s not the same, but we’ve been there too.”

She gave him that same, sad smile, “thanks.” 

Jim’s sister glanced between them, then seemed to remember. “Oh, sweetie,” she stood up and came to Sarah, giving her a hug. 

Even though it was awkward with her sitting down and Quinn still holding her waist, the intended comfort still came through. “Thank you,” she said, wiping a few rogue tears from her eyes. 

Quinn wound his arms around her waist to pull her flush against him so he could be the one she could lean on. He hooked his chin over her shoulder and brushed a kiss to her jaw. 

“I know when our mom died, I just wanted someone to give me a hug all the time. My husband started calling me a koala,” she said, laughing lightly. “Anyway,” she waved a hand in front of her face, “I just mean to say that if you need a hug, I’m always here.” 

It was incredibly kind. Though Sarah knew she would go to Quinn or Ellen or even Jim first, just because she knew them more, it was still wonderfully thoughtful. 

“I can’t imagine your parent’s wouldn’t be anything but thrilled to see how in love you two are,” she said. 

In a way, it was kind of a throw-away thing to say. She’d never met Sarah’s parents, but, Sarah supposed, she was a parent herself and knew something of raising children. 

“I know we sure are,” Jim said, squeezing her knee. 

“Thanks. I just really miss her, you know?” More emotion than she’d been expecting choked her voice. She leaned into Quinn, glad for his solid embrace.

Jim nodded, “of course.”

“But more than that, I miss the potential. Like, I don't get to know what she or my dad thinks of Quinn or how they feel about my degree.”

“Well, I think I can say that they’d be incredibly proud of you for your degree,” Jim said, “I'm proud of you, and you're not even my daughter.”

Quinn hoped that one day she might be something close.  

“And you know, Quinn won't get to know them,” Sarah continued, the thoughts bubbling up now that the cap had been blown off. “He won’t get to hear my mom laugh or go on a wild trip to Costco with us.”

“Costco?” Quinn repeated. 

“My dad loved Costco,” she said, her voice taking on a dreamy, nostalgic tone. “It was a whole family affair. Every second Saturday. You better keep the evening free, cause we all had to go together. Even after my brother got married, he and Lucy still came with us.”

“Why Costco?”

“Part of it’s because both of my parents grew up in such big families. My dad’s one of 6 and mom’s one of 9. But I think he just liked that you can get such a huge variety of stuff there. He always liked to find the new things, and he felt very passionately about Costco hot dogs.”

Quinn snorted. 

“Almost every gift he ever gave came from Costco.” 

“Like what?” Quinn asked, trying to keep her talking. He loved seeing these snapshots of her family. If he wouldn’t get the chance to meet them, at least he could understand a little more through her memories. 

“One time,” she adjusted to sit sideways in his lap so she could see his face, “he bought me an enormous bag of hot Cheetos for my birthday.” 

He snorted. 

“Don’t make fun. It was a very practical gift. He even printed this big label and stuck it on it that said,” she had to pause to control her giggles, “Sar-Bear’s mouth-killer birthday chips. Touch or die.” 

A laugh sputtered out of his mouth. 

“He got me my first golf clubs at Costco. And,” she emphasized the point by poking him in the shoulder, “he once built a rocket made entirely of stuff he bought at Costco.” 

“A rocket?” Jim repeated, surprised.

“Yeah, he designed rockets for a living and wanted to do it to prove that he could. He uploaded this ridiculous video to Facebook and tagged Costco in it. They gave him a free membership for a year. He said it was the fifth best day of his life.”

“Fifth?” Jim’s sister asked. 

“After his wedding and the birth of his kids.” 

“Can we see the video?” Quinn asked. 

She had family photos on a pinboard above her desk, and he’d seen a ton more when they visited her siblings. He knew she had her dads smile and her mothers eyes. But it was different seeing someone in motion. 

Digging her phone out of her pocket, Sarah said, “I’m not sure his profile is still active… I think he might have tagged me in it.” 

Glancing at his dad, Quinn found the older man looking at him with this proud, approving look on his face. It was a rare thing to get from Jim, and he was most often on the receiving end of it at the ice rink. It was nice to get it away from hockey. 

“Here,” she said, handing Quinn her phone. The screen was cracked in the corner.

His dad and aunt moved to huddle around his chair, and he played the video. 

Her dad, Michael, who was tall and reedy and wore wire rimmed glasses, introduced himself and went through an overenthusiastic explanation of where every part of the rocket came from in the store, and why he chose it, making sure to highlight what was on a special deal that month. He then assembled it with a younger Sarah’s help. Her hair was shorter, cut into a bob that hit around the middle of her neck, and she had braces. 

Quinn paused the video, “how old are you here?”

She took the phone back from him so she could look at the date. “I’d just turned twenty-one.” 

“You still had braces at 21?” 

“I had them twice,” she explained with a self-deprecating eye roll. “I didn’t wear my retainer the first time, so I had to get them again when I went to college.” 

“I think you look cute,” he said. 

“Yeah, because nothing says, ‘hey, I’m old enough to drink’ like having braces.”

They all laughed, and his dad reached forward to start the video again. 

The rocket was finished and shot off. It flew much higher than Quinn expected. “Woah.”

“And that,” her dad said, hands on his hips as he turned back to the camera, “is how you launch into a new month of Costco savings.”

“Oh my god,” Sarah exclaimed off camera. “You’re such a dad!” 

“Good thing I am one, then,” he said, pointing at her with finger guns and a wink. 

Ellen came over at their laughter, “what’s going on here?” 

“We were just watching a video of Sarah’s dad.” 

“Oh,” she tucked herself between her husband and sister-in-law, “I’d like to see that.” 

The fact that they all were interested in getting to know her parents in this way eased a bit of the grief from its strangling hold around Sarah’s heart. As Quinn restarted the video, his free hand moved to her leg and squeezed her knee. 

She glanced down at him, a thankful smile on her face. 

After an afternoon on the docks and another raucous dinner on the lawn, Quinn grabbed a set of keys from one of the hooks in the kitchen. 

“We're going for a drive,” he announced, pulling Sarah toward the front door with their clasped hands. 

His parents and aunts and uncles shared some knowing glances from their place around the dining table, and a smile he knew wasn't going to end well took over his mom's face. 

“Have fun!” she called out. “Use protection!”

“Lay down a towel!” someone else chimed in. 

“Sarah, don't be afraid to put him in his place!”

He felt his ears get hot. It didn't matter how casual he tried to be, they knew exactly what they were up to. 

Sarah pulled him off his determined course to go into the garage. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Getting a towel. That's a smart idea. I don't want to ruin whoever’s car this is.”

He laughed, “it's my parents' car.”

“All the more reason then,” she said, tucking a few towels from the clean bin under her arm and taking his hand. 

The drive took thirty minutes, and they ended up at a lovers lane of sorts - nothing more than a dirt road at the edge of a tree lined pond. They were the only ones there. Sarah tried not to think about how he knew about it. 

“I know this is really fucking cheesy, but can we get in the back seat?” he asked. 

She nodded, glad they didn't go through the whole rigmarole of squirreling over the center console. Car sex was uncomfortable enough. No point in making it more so. 

They both went to their perspective back doors, and she didn’t waist any time, crawling into his lap and kissing him. 

“Sarah,” Quinn moaned when she moved on to his neck. He was so torqued up, his desire ratcheted so high he didn't think he'd ever had bluer balls in his life. He hadn't touched her in two and a half weeks, then they had finally shared a bed, but he'd only been able to get her off with his hands and vice versa because of the bedroom lock situation. Then she'd walked out that morning in that goddamn fucking bikini and he about lost his goddamn fucking mind. THEN it took ten hours before they were able to get away on their own. 

He'd been riding the edge so long that she didn't even need to get him worked up. He felt crazy with wanting. 

“Sarah, please,” his hands, clumsy, pulled at her shirt. She let him strip it off. He reached for her shorts, and she pushed him away. He whined in earnest, in too deep to be embarrassed. 

“I want to blow you first,” she said, voice husky. 

His eyes practically rolled to the back of his head. “Fuck, Sarah. Really?”

“Really.” She gave him a coy smile and maneuvered so she was on her knees in front of him. 

“You can get me off while you recover,” she said. 

“Yeah.”

He would have agreed with practically anything at that moment. She needed a new car? Done. Tuition? She wanted to skinny dip in this pond? She wanted to marry him? Done, done, and done. He'd do it all. 

She made quick work of his pants, shoving them down until he could kick them off onto the floor. 

And then her blissful mouth was on him. She felt so good - warm and wet, and the way her tongue moved made his breathing hitch. Part of him felt 12, ready to shoot off at any moment; the other part of him wanted to savor this. 

Her hand slid up his thigh. He was so certain she was about to wrap her fingers around the base of his shaft that when she bypassed and cradled his balls instead, his hips bucked of their own volition. 

He hit the back of her throat, and she pulled off coughing through the gagging sensation.

Shit. 

Fuck. 

No, no, no, no, no. 

“I'm sorry,” he said. His voice was practically begging. “I'm sorry.”

Seeing the tears she was blinking out of her eyes as she sat up slammed him back into reality. 

He cupped her cheek, “I'm sorry, Sarah. I didn't expect that, and I just…I lost control. Are you okay?” 

She blinked a few more times to get rid of the tears and swallowed. “Yeah, I’m okay.” 

Breathing a sigh of relief, he leaned against the car door. Having sex in a backseat was really never a good idea. They were too confined to get into any of their favorite positions. 

Having sex in the backseat when he was this needy was a terrible idea — compounding all the issues with his impatience. That said, if it was the only way they would be together, he’d have sex in this goddamn car every night. 

His eyes shot open at the feel of her lips wrapping around him again. He wouldn’t lie. The way she was sucking him off, on her knees, ass in the air, was one of the most attractive things he’d ever seen her do. 

“Can I take a picture?”

She pulled back, looking up at him, “what?” 

“Can I take a picture?” he repeated, fishing for his jeans and pulling the phone out of his pocket. “You look so fucking hot like this. I just want to remember.”

“As long as it’s not shared anywhere, yeah,” she said, leaning down to take him again.

Part of him hadn’t really expected her to say yes. His mouth had run away with his thoughts before he could vet them. Fumbling, he finally got his phone to unlock and adjusted the camera settings for the dark.

The app only clicked once before she pulled off. He whined. 

“Hold on,” she said, undoing the button on her shorts and shoving them around her knees. “This'll make a better picture.” If she was going to allow it, might as well go all out. 

As she took him in her mouth again, she perked her ass in the air, showing off. 

“Holy shit,” he breathed. It took him a second to remember his phone in his hand and take another picture. In the dim light, it just barely captured the shadow of the lace. 

“You're so fucking incredible,” he moaned. 

Feeling her smile around him was something he’d never get over. 

Using every technique she knew he liked, Sarah continued on until he was panting and moaning above her. 

Gripping the seats, Quinn willed his hips to stay still. “I‘m gonna come,” he warned. 

Hollowing her cheeks, she sucked a little harder, gratified when he let out the stuttered moan she’d been aiming for. She wanted to milk him dry. 

When he came with a shout, she did just that. 

Spent, Quinn collapsed against the door, breathing heavily. 

There was no rustling or opening doors, so she could spit. As his eyes fluttered open, he asked, “did you swallow?”

“There wasn’t anywhere else to put it.” 

“Damn,” he said, disappointment in his voice.

“What?”

“I didn’t see it.”

“It looks the same as when I swallow anything else,” she assured. 

“It does not,” he argued. “You never swallow.” 

She gave him a look that had him backtracking, “I mean, not that I mind that you don’t, but I just…would have liked to see it, thats all….” he trailed off.  

“I’m sorry,” she said, coming forward to settle in his lap again. “Next time, I’ll wait until you open your eyes to swallow.” 

“Next time?” he asked, quirking his eyebrows. 

“Yes, next time. You know, as well as I do, that that won’t be the last blowjob I give you.” 

“For all I know, it could be,” he said, though his voice was teasing. 

“As long as you reciprocate, it won’t.” 

“I better start reciprocating, then,” he said with a wink, sneaking his hands into the band of her underwear to push it down. He had been dreaming about her taste for weeks, and cleaning her release from his fingers the night before only made the craving worse. 

“I don’t know if in the car…” she wanted his mouth almost as much as she wanted his cock buried deep inside her but she worried it wouldn’t work in the car, at least not the way she liked. She preferred to be laid out on her back so she could totally relax and he could have full access.

Pouting, Quinn stuck his bottom lip out and met her eyes in an attempt to get her on his side. “I don’t want to use my hands again.” It came out a bit of a whine. 

“I love your hands,” she said, covering his with her own, pulling them up her body and to the clasp of her bra. He made quick work of the hooks and pulled it off, tossing it to the floor with his jeans. 

“Plus, once you’re hard again,” she reached down and cupped his sensitive dick, “I want this inside me.”

“Yeah?” 

“Fuck yes. I’ve been thinking about you filling me up for weeks.” 

Moaning, he twitched against her palm. Not bothering to remove them, his hand slipped to the apex of her thighs, rubbing over her underwear. 

Head thrown back, she moaned as her hips ground into his hand. 

It didn’t take long for her juices to soak through the flimsy lace. The fact that he was doing this to her made his whole body feel like it was on fire. 

“Quinn,” she breathed, “I want your fingers inside me.”

“Later,” he said, too intoxicated with the idea of her coming with this lace barrier between them. “I want to feel you come like this.” 

A whine escaped her, but she continued dutifully rocking against him.

He stroked her pearl, then moved down, teasing her entrance with the tips of his fingers. 

She huffed out a frustrated breath. “If you’re not going to put them inside me, stop teasing.” 

“But teasing you is so much fun,” he said, pushing in, just slightly. 

Both hands gripped his shoulders, and she moved her hips down, trying to force his digits inside her. The lace prevented him from dipping to the depth she wanted him, and she whined his name. 

“Naughty,” he admonished, slipping his fingers back to her sensitive bundle, stroking it so slowly that it was more torture than treat.

Her beautiful mouth was open and panting. “Quinn, please.” 

He usually envisioned that word coming from his lips, not the other way around.

Her hips ground down hard against his hand. He pushed back with equal force, and she winced, shrinking from his touch.

“Sorry,” he said, lightening his pressure. He’d been so caught in the moment, he forgot how sensitive she was, “sorry.”

Too intent on her orgasm, Sarah shook her head. Her hand shot to his wrist of it’s own accord,  guiding him back to her. Finding his fingers again, she started grinding herself against them. The sensation of the lace between her clit and his touch was incredible. The fabric was so soaked now that the texture of it was no longer painful. It only added another layer of stimulation.  

Quinn let her control the pace, content to watch bliss take over her body. Her head tipped back, and he leaned forward to lick one of her nipples into his mouth, hoping to give her that final push. 

She moaned his name as one of her hands came up to cradle the back of his head. He felt the other grasp onto his shoulder.

He knew she was almost there from the pace of her breathing, the racing of her heart and the way her hips stuttered. He was still glad when she clarified anyway. “I’m so close.” 

Switching to using his middle two fingers, he used the index to work under the lace. At the first sign of her orgasm, he swept the fabric aside and plunged his middle and ring fingers inside her. 

Sarah screamed. 

Feeling his fingers finally penetrate her as her orgasm began to pulse catapulted her pleasure into another dimension. 

The grip she had on his shoulder tightened, and she chanted, “Quinn…Quinn…Oh my god, Quinn…Fuck!” The last word came out a shout as he brought his thumb to her clit, drawing tight circles around the sensitive bundle still swathed in lace. Her high, which had been easing off, exploded to life again. 

He’d never heard her be so loud before. At least they were several miles from the nearest town and nowhere near his family.

Easing off when a soft whine escaped her throat, Quinn brought his hand to his mouth, eager to taste her release. 

Watching him clean his fingers through hooded eyes, she said, “I want you inside me.” 

“There’s a condom in my jeans,” he said, reaching for the material.

Pulling his hand back, she placed it over her breast. “Don’t care. Need to feel you.” 

“You’re sure?” He knew having unprotected sex without a bathroom close would mean she would be dealing with the aftermath the whole way home on top of having soaked underwear. 

Nodding, she hurriedly pulled her underwear out of the way. Taking it off would take too much time — time she wasn’t willing to give up, not when she was so close to finally feeling him again. 

The way she moaned when she sunk onto him was going to haunt his dreams for months.

Relishing the feeling of having his hard cock inside her again, Sarah paused. Head tipped back, she panted.

She moaned as he adjusted, sending him further inside her. 

“You feel unbelievable,” he said full of breathless wonder. 

“Uh hu,” she agreed, starting to move, easing up and down. 

Feeling her this way reminded him of that day in April she’d showed up at his house to congratulate him on making the playoffs. Remembering the way they’d made love that day, he spread his hands wide, ready to support her. 

Instead of leaning back, she came forward to kiss him. “Want you on top,” she said against his mouth. 

“Okay.”

As much as it pained her to, she pushed off of him so they could rearrange. He guided her onto her back, pulling the towel back in place as he did. She shimmied out of her panties.

Once his hips settled against hers as he slipped back inside her, she wrapped her legs tightly around him. It forced him into a more sensual rocking rather than fucking her hard and fast. 

Tucking his face into her neck, kissing and licking all the skin he could find, Quinn marveled at how good it felt, even squashed into the back seat of a car, she still felt amazing. 

Her hands slid up his back and buried themselves in his hair. Sarah tipped her hips so Quinn was brushing her clit each time he moved. 

She gasped his name. 

He grunted, too taken with her to form a more coherent response. 

“You feel so good.”

The praise shot a mixture of pleasure and panic up his spine and into his mouth, “can’t do that.”

“Do what?” 

“Can’t say things like that.”

“Like what? That you make me feel good?”

He whined, nodding his head. 

“Why not?”

“Gonna make me come.”

Sliding her hands to his ears, she pulled his face from her neck, so he was looking down at her. “Guess you better shut me up, then.”

Eyes widening in surprise, Quinn felt his breath shutter in his lungs. It didn’t take long for him to take the bait, crashing their lips together in a kiss that mimicked the way their bodies moved in and around each other.

His continuous, sensual rocking made Sarah’s whole body quake. Pleasure sparked in her core and rippled outward. God, everything about him felt incredible. His tongue, the hot length of his cock, the way his hips rocked into hers. She moaned into his mouth and he moaned back as if in agreement. 

“Quinn,” she panted. “Oh,” her moan cut off as he thrust a little harder. 

Unable to hold it any longer, she tipped her head back, crying out as her orgasm exploded into her veins.  

Fastening his mouth on any skin he could find, he focused on the taste of her sweat and chased her racing pulse, working her through her high. As it edged off, Quinn slowed his thrusts to match the pulse of her core around him. 

Collapsing against the seat, Sarah breathed, “holy shit,” as a sense of heady euphoria crashed over her. 

Beaming down at her, he settled his hips against hers. Torsos pressing together with every breath, Quinn shook his head, “you’re fucking amazing, you know that? First the blow job,” his cock twitched inside her just remembering it. “Now this?”

She flushed. 

“What?” he asked, laughing. 

“I needed to get you off, so you'd last for this. Don't get me wrong, I love giving you pleasure, but I'll admit, the blow job was mostly for me.”

“Minx,” he teased, but there was no heat in it. He understood her reasoning, and it was smart, really. Plus it’s not like he’d minded.

She laughed, and he bit his lip as her core flexed.

Her legs loosened around him, and she reached up to brush his hair from his face. 

“What do you want?” 

He gulped. “Wanna come inside.”

“Of course,” she said as if that wasn’t even a question. “How do you want it?” 

His brain ran away with his mouth, “wanna fuck you.” 

She nodded. 

It was the only permission he needed. Bracing himself above her, he immediately set a pace that made both them and the car shake. 

“Want to feel it,” she said, pushing her hips up to meet his every thrust. 

Had anyone else but Sarah heard the pathetic little whine that came out of his mouth, he would have been mortified.

“Come for me, Quinn.” 

Each thrust ended with her name on his tongue. When his orgasm finally shattered, he flooded her with a shout. Burring himself to the hilt again and again, he kept going until his limbs gave out, and he collapsed on top of her. 

Day 3 (The 4th of July):

The morning of the 4th was spent puttering around the bay in a two-person kayak before stopping on a far shore to eat the picnic she’d packed for brunch. 

Then they had to get back to the house so Sarah could make her dads favorite chocolate tart. Jim had suggested and requested she make it, so she and Quinn had stopped at the store on their way back from their lovers’ lane rendezvous the night before. She’d never been so thankful she’d remembered a hairbrush. 

In the middle of the afternoon, as the crust was baking, they found themselves in the house alone. 

Glancing out the window, Sarah saw the family gathered at the bay shore behind the neighboring house and locked what looked like an intense volleyball tournament. 

“Looks like the house is empty,” she said casually. 

Quinn perked up. 

She picked up the timer, “we’ve got a bit of time before I need to pull this out of the oven if you want to —” She broke off, laughing as Quinn sprinted around the island, took her by the waist and pulled her against him. 

“Yes,” he said breathlessly, “I want to.” 

She laughed again and pulled him down the hall to his room. Once there, she pulled the blinds closed before turning back to him. He was shutting the door, looking at her like he was ready to pounce. 

Glancing at the timer, she said, “we’ve got thirty minutes,” before stripping her tank top off, revealing her blue bikini top. 

He was going to spend every one of them with his face between her legs. God, he missed the way she tasted, the noises she made when he went down on her. There was nothing like it. 

“Thirty minutes,” he repeated, “just enough time to get you off a few times.” 

He tackled her into the bed, immediately wrestling with her shorts and the bikini bottoms she had on underneath them. 

“And you,” she said, reaching for his swim trunks, “I want to feel you, too.” Before she could get a good grip to pull his board shorts down, he was kissing along her stomach, intention clear. 

“Quinn,” she breathed, “you don’t have to —” 

“Want to,” he mumbled into her skin as he spread her thighs to lay between them. 

A whimper escaped her chest.

“God, I’ve missed this,” he moaned when he finally got his eyes on her. She was already glistening for him. 

“Really?” she knew he didn’t mind giving head, but to miss it? She missed getting him off, sure, but she’d be lying if she said she missed giving him a blowjob more than anything else. 

“Fuck yes.” 

She let out a small moaned whine as her hips tipped toward his mouth.

He didn't need any more invitation than that. Stuffing his face into her center, he moaned, feeling his eyes roll back. She smelled and tasted like heaven.

When he got over the initial jolt of pleasure at finally having his mouth on her again, he looked up to find she'd pulled her bikini top to the side and was toying with her nipple. The other hand was over her mouth, muffling the noises he loved so much. 

“Want to hear you.” 

Was that his voice? He sounded drunk. In a way, he supposed he was. 

“I don’t want to…” she broke off, panting. “Don’t want to draw attention,” she managed. “What if someone comes in the house?” 

Not bothering to respond, he wrapped his lips around her clit and sucked. 

Her hips tipped into him, and she moaned. 

“That’s it,” he groaned into her, “just like that.”

“Oh my god,” she breathed as the hand that was over her mouth fumbled into his hair. The other stayed at her chest, pushing her bikini off of her other breast so she could tweak and twirl that nipple, too.

Fuck, she was so sexy.

Two orgasms later, Quinn showed no signs of stopping, despite rutting his hips into the mattress every time her body and breath shook with pleasure.

“I want you.”

He didn’t make any moves to break away from her center. He was practically drinking her release, but his thirst wasn’t yet quenched.

“Quinn, I want you inside me.”

When he didn’t follow her request, she wrapped her fingers into his hair and tugged. 

He grunted and let out a pathetic little whine, but let her pull him up to her. 

Kneeling, he shoved his shorts down before hooking her right leg over his arm. 

“Quinn,” she moaned when he hovered over her. It stretched her farther than she could on her own, but it wasn’t unpleasant. 

“You want it?” he asked, nestling just the tip against her entrance. 

“Yes,” she moaned, head thrown back. 

“You’re sure?” 

“Yes, Quinn. I need your cock inside me.” 

There was only so far a man's resistance could take him, and Quinn had just run out of rope. Leaning down, he caught her mouth to capture her moans as his hips drove forward, sheathing himself in one hard thrust. 

Their shouts crashed together, their lips muffling the sound. 

After only a few harsh thrusts, she was pulling away, head tipped back against the pillows as she panted.

Guiding her hand between their bodies, he instructed, “touch yourself for me.”

He’d usually build her up slowly, but there was no time for that kind of slow seduction. 

“Fuck,” she whispered, body on fire. 

He felt her walls spasm around him and knew she'd made contact with her swollen bundle of nerves. 

“Feels good?” he asked, voice strained to a whisper in her ear. 

“So good,” she babbled, “you feel so, so good.” 

He growled something deep in his throat. 

“Yes,” she panted, not knowing or caring what she was agreeing to. 

He chuckled. 

“I’m almost there,” she said. Pressing a fraction harder, she skated that delicate line of getting off faster without causing pain. 

“Come for me, Sarah,” he commanded. 

She gasped. He never talked like this at home. Something about the possibility of getting caught brought it out of him, she was sure.

Mouth next to her ear, he growled, “come all over my cock.”

She had no choice but to obey. His filthy mouth, combined with a few more punishing thrusts, had her careening into orgasmic bliss. 

He swallowed her moans and trusted her to catch his cry of pleasure when he came hard inside her. 

After riding out their highs, he flopped beside her, and her leg fell off the side of the bed.

“Holy shit,” she whispered. 

He huffed in response.

After a few moments of panting breaths, she asked, “could you go get a washcloth?”

“I don't think I can move,” he confessed.

She giggled, “that good, hu?” 

“Fuck,” he moaned. “It was unreal.” 

“It was, or I was?” she asked, quirking her brows teasingly.

“You always are,” he said earnestly as he rolled over to throw a heavy arm over her stomach as his mouth connected with her shoulder.

The timer beeped once.

“That's the one minute warning,” she said quietly, tucking her breasts back into her top. “I need a towel or something to wipe off so I can get dressed to pull the crust out.”

Fuck this room with its stupid fucking walk in closet that should have been a en suite bathroom. 

Quinn convinced himself up with a groan and found a clean t shirt she could use, “I’m sorry,” he said sheepishly, handing it to her. 

The timer went off just as she was finishing wiping up. She threw on her bathing suit and rushed into the kitchen. 

The back door opened as she was pulling the crust out of the oven. She kept her eyes down, knowing she must look ridiculous pulling a pie out of the oven in her bikini. She hadn't even looked in a mirror yet. Her hair was likely wild, and she was probably flushed and looked over kissed. She may as well have been wearing a sign that said freshly fucked. 

“God fucking dammit,” she recognized Jack's voice, “have Quinn text me when we can come back in the house,” he said, voice too loud and dripping with annoyance, before the door snapped shut. 

She giggled and, upon coming back to the room, found Quinn freshly showered. 

“How did you do that so fast?”

“Do what?”

“Shower. I was gone for like three minutes.”

He shrugged and whipped the towel from around his waist to drag over his hair. 

She didn't try to hide her stare, admiring his hip lines, which were more defined than they'd been at the start of the summer. 

“My eyes are up here, sweetheart.”

Heat flooded her cheeks, but she pulled her eyes to his. “Jack wants you to text him when it's safe to come inside.”

He laughed. “Does that mean we can go another few rounds before I tell him anything?” he asked, slinging an arm around her and bringing her close against him. 

“I’ve got to shower and finish the tart,” she said, patting his chest lightly. “Plus, I think we’ve pushed our luck enough for one day.”

Begrudgingly, he agreed and dressed as she went to take a shower. 

When Sarah wandered back to the kitchen, hair wet, but pulled back in a french braid, she found Quinn at the sink, watching his brothers play volleyball paired up with some of their cousins. 

“You should go join,” Sarah encouraged.

“But you’re not —”

“I can finish this on my own. It’s not a big deal. Go have fun.” 

“You're sure?” 

“Yeah. I actually wouldn't mind having some time to myself for a minute.” 

“You’ll let me know if you want me to come back in?” he confirmed. 

She nodded, and he pressed a lingering kiss to her mouth before heading outside. 

After Quinn went out to join in the tournament, absorbed onto the same team as his brothers, people cycled through the kitchen as they came in to use the bathroom or grab something to drink. Each one of them offered to help, and Sarah always responded with a bright smile and an, “I'm alright. Thank you, though.” 

It wasn't until Ellen came in that the answer changed. 

She was the first one who broached the barrier of the island, coming around to lay a hand on Sarah's upper back. “Are you okay in here, sweetheart?”

It was such a motherly thing to do that it made emotion swell in her chest.  

“Yeah,” Sarah said with a sigh, “I'm fine. Just a little overwhelmed.” 

“Ah,” she nodded knowingly, “it's a lot to take in.” 

“Yeah. I'm kind of glad to have some time to myself.” 

“Do you want me to leave?” 

“No, you can stay if you want.”

“How can I help?” 

Sarah set her to washing the raspberries while she watched the caramel over the stove. 

“Things are going okay, though?” 

“Yeah. It's a little less huge every day. I feel like I’m finally remembering people’s names.” 

“And they're okay with Quinn? I know he's really missed you when you're apart.” 

“Yeah, I've missed him a lot, too,” she said. “It's been kind of a rough go.” 

“Well, it seems like a good sign to me that you miss each other so much.” 

“Yeah. It's kind of weird. I feel like I miss him a lot physically, but I didn't realize how much I missed the little interactions until they were gone.” 

“What do you mean?” 

It felt a little strange to be talking about this with Quinn’s mom, but she was asking. “Like, I miss running into each other as we’re going through his apartment. Like, if I’m studying, he gives me a kiss as he passes by. That kind of thing.”

Ellen felt a knowing, happy smile spread over her face. Jimmy often did things like that to her, and knowing that Quinn had picked up on one of his dads sweetest habits made her heart swell with pride.

“He told us he invited you to move in when he gets back.” 

Smiling down at the caramel, which was starting to turn golden, Sarah nodded. 

“Are you going to?” 

“I think so. I mean, I will unless something changes.” 

“Quinn’ll be so relieved. I’m pretty relieved, too.”

Sarah glanced up at her. 

“He’s been all alone in Vancouver for so long,” Ellen explained, shaking the water off the berries, “I know he’s got hockey and his teammates, but I realize now how different it’s been for Jack and Luke to have each other. I’m just glad he has someone he can rely on.”

Intense pride and acceptance filled Sarah’s chest. She knew Ellen liked her, but for her to be relieved she was in Quinns life was something totally different. It dispelled some of her lingering anxiety. 

“It’s really, really nice for me to have someone to rely on, too.” Before she could stop them, words continued bubbling out of her mouth, “I’m a little worried about living there while he’s on the road, though.” 

“Yeah?” 

“I just…I’ve never lived on my own, and — I don’t know if Quinn’s told you about what happened after my mom died?”

“He mentioned you went through some hard things,” Ellen said, trying to be tactful. Quinn had told her about Sarah moving in with her sister and then her uncle because she was worried about her mental health. 

“I know it’ll only be for short stints, but I’ve never done that before.”

The older woman nodded in understanding. “I think I went through something similar when Jimmy started traveling with his coaching. I had the boys at home, and we were really busy, and at times, I just wanted to rip my hair out.”

“How did you get through it?” 

“I had friends, and I took time for myself when Jim got home. It’ll be a transition for sure, but I think you’ll settle into it just fine. And you know I’m always just a phone call away.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course,” she said, wrapping her arm around Sarah, who leaned her head on Ellen’s shoulder. “Sometimes, it’s nice to have some time away from each other, too. It cuts out the mundane.”

A laugh chuffed out of Sarah’s mouth, and she pulled the caramel off the stove to pour into the pie crust. 

“How’s your research going this summer?” Ellen asked. 

“Since I’m not in school, and the aquarium is so much busier in the summer, I do more work than research, so I’ve been doing a lot of education tours. I had to re-up my scuba certification this year, so I did that last week.” 

“Why?” 

“Sometimes we have to dive into the tanks,” she said. “It’s pretty rare, but they like all of the zoologists to have it.” 

Ellen nodded. 

“But my research is going well. It’s right on track. I’ve started writing my thesis, and as long as I can get it done, I should be able to graduate at the end of the year.”

“Oh, that’s so exciting.”

“It’s kind of daunting,” Sarah admitted. “I’ve been in school for so long, I don’t really know what I’ll do with myself when I’m done.”

“I remember feeling that way when I was in grad school. It’s just new. You’ll figure it out as it comes,” Ellen assured. “Do you have to defend your thesis?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I hope you’ll let us know when you do. We’d love to be there to support you.”

Sarah beamed. “I’d like that.” 

They finished the tart together right before Jims sisters came in to take over the kitchen. As Quinn’s families house was bigger and more recently renovated, almost all of the cooking took place there. It also didn’t hurt that it had the largest lawn for outdoor dinners to be set up. 

Sarah joined in the last game of volleyball, a battle of the sexes. The girls won, but that was mostly due to the fact that three of Quinn’s cousins played college volleyball and coached everyone else in what to do. It didn’t stop Sarah from gloating to Quinn when they embraced after the game was done. He took it all in stride, teasing her about her missed sets. 

After a cookout dinner of burgers, dogs, and all the fixings, dessert was set out, and Sarah’s tart, despite being sliced into tiny servings, was gone before everyone was done eating dinner. 

Once the sun set, they moved down to the beach to watch the fireworks, which were shot off across the bay. 

Sarah and Quinn shared a blanket. He invited her to sit between his legs so she could lean on his chest, but she opted to sit beside him. She’d always wanted to kiss under fireworks, and sitting side by side made that more of a possibility. 

Halfway through the show, she glanced over at him to find him watching her. 

Their mouths tipped together, and it was even more romantic than Sarah had imagined. Finally, the world outside matched how she felt kissing him. 

“He’s never done that before, you know,” Luke said, catching up with her as they meandered back to the house to light sparklers with the little ones before they had to get to bed. 

“What?” 

“Quinn. He’s never made out with someone in public like that.” 

“Really?” It’s not like they made a habit of kissing in front of people, but they’d kissed in front of both of their families after he won the Norris, and their first kiss hadn’t been very private at all. 

“Yeah. He’s usually more reserved.” 

“It’s probably just because we’re with family.”

Luke shook his head, “No. He’s brought other girls to the 4th before, and he never kissed any of them like that.”

Sarah felt her eyebrows raise. 

“It’s just nice to see him so comfortable with someone,” he said, knocking his shoulder into hers.  

A smile beamed over her face. “You an Kylee looked pretty cozy, too.” They’d started kissing even before the fireworks started, and from what Sarah saw, they never broke apart. Though they must have if he’d noticed her and Quinn. 

His face flushed as he gave her a chagrined smile. “Our first kiss was on the 4th of July. It’s kind of an anniversary,” he said, watching Kylee dance around with some of his cousins. 

“Yeah? Ellen made it seem like you guys didn’t start dating until you started your senior year.” 

“We didn’t. I was trying, and we kind of got somewhere over the 4th, but she didn’t think I was serious.”

“Why not?” 

Kylee came up to them then, hooking her arm around Luke’s waist. “Luke’s so shy at first, I couldn’t really tell if he was into me. And Jack talked to me all the time,” she explained. “He always brought Luke up, but never, like, facilitated a conversation between us.”

“Why didn’t he just let you figure it out?” Sarah asked, tearing her eyes away from where Quinn had Nova perched on his shoulders so she could waive her sparkler higher than everyone else. 

Luke rolled his eyes, “I think he was trying to wing-man, but it backfired constantly. We only kissed on the 4th because Jack was gone.”

Kylee giggled, “I felt like I had it figured out, and then in comes Jack chatting me up again.” 

Upon hearing his name, Jack looked over, “what about me?”

“We’re just talking about what an awful wingman you are,” Luke called back. 

“The worst!” someone else chimed in.

Jack’s cheeks, which were already pink from having one too many beers, flushed darker. 

 “Now that I know him better, I know he really was trying to talk Luke up, but I was just so confused,” Kylee explained with a laugh. “He’s so chatty, it comes off as flirting sometimes.”

“It wasn’t until he moved to New Jersey that she started taking me seriously,” Luke said, casting a fond glance at his girlfriend. 

“I was trying,” Jack called out across the lawn. 

“I know!” Kylee yelled back. 

Sarah wondered how her relationship with Quinn would have been different if Jack had behaved this way. She supposed they were already in love by the time she met Jack. Instead of the overly friendly, flirty Jack, she got the sullen, don’t take my brother Jack. At least he seemed to be getting over that particular fear. He didn’t treat her like a sibling like he did Kylee, but at least he wasn’t as standoffish as he had been and was beginning to joke with her. 

After the kids were finally in bed, some of the adults sat around the living room, planning the beach trip for the following day. Sarah was on the floor, leaning against the couch between Quinn’s splayed legs. His hands were resting comfortably on her shoulders. In an attempt to stop herself from kissing the inside of his leg, she leaned her head on his knee. 

“Mia mentioned wanting to go through the tide pools,” she said. “I looked it up, and it looks like the best beach for tide pools is Great Island Common. I don’t know how close we’re going to be to there, but it could be fun to go.”

“Its not too far from the beach we're going to.”

“Awesome. Low tide is at 5 pm, so it would be best to do tide pooling between 2 and 5 when the tide is receding.” 

Everyone glanced at each other quietly. 

“What?” 

“You looked all that up?” 

“Yeah. Mia said she wanted to go,” Sarah repeated. 

“I just,” Jenny began, “I’m surprised you looked up the best times to go tide pooling for a twelve year old.”

“It was just a few quick google searches. I’d bet the other kids would like it, too. All my nieces and nephews really love it. We might as well go at the best time if we can swing it.” 

When they fell into bed that night, Quinn pulled Sarah on top of him, just to feel her weight pressing him down. “I love you,” he said, mouth sleepily brushing her jaw. 

“I love you, too.”

They fell asleep mouth to mouth. 

Day 4 (The Beach):

“Look over here!” 

Quinn watched the kids run to gather around Sarah, a smile on his face. They’d all been tired, sun drenched and ready to go home when they got to Great Island Common, but Sarah’s love for the ocean and her knack for finding interesting creatures soon had them all invested in the hunt through the rocky tide pools. 

“Mia found a small octopus in this pool,” she said, pointing to a craggy divot in the rock. “Can you see it?”

Sam reached forward, and Sarah gently caught his hand, “we can’t touch, remember? We’re in his house. He’s not in ours.” 

Sam nodded, a shy blush spreading over his cheeks. 

Even the adults were gathered around now, along with some people they didn’t know. 

“I don’t see it,” his uncle said. 

“Octopus camouflage really well, so they’re hard to see, but if you look really closely,” she traced the outline of it with her finger above the water, “you can see where it looks just a little different from the rock, and then you can find the legs and suction cups.” 

After a moment, Quinn could see the creature, legs curlicued underneath itself, rows and rows of tiny suction cups just lighter than the body. 

“And you can see the urchin there,” she pointed to the purple creature on the other side of the pool. “Those are poisonous if the spines go through your skin, so make sure you don’t step on any of them, okay?”

The little kids nodded seriously.

“Sarah! There’s a crab!” 

“Where?” she asked as if she’d never seen one before. 

Sam proudly pointed to the crab crawling along the bottom of an adjacent pool. 

“Good job, Sam. What else can you see?” 

They fanned out and reported their findings. 

“What’s this?” Jason asked. 

Sarah walked over and laughed. “That,” she reached into the pool and plucked something out, “is a plastic bag.” 

“Oh,” he said with a laugh, “I thought it might be a jellyfish.”

“No. Jellyfish don’t like the shallow water, so they usually don’t end up in tide pools unless they get caught, and they look more like a pile of Jello if they do. Most things in tide pools like to be there because each new tide brings fresh water and fresh food. It’s sort of an all you can eat buffet without having to go very far.” 

“Sarah!” Nova screeched. 

She immediately turned around, nearly toppling over in her haste. 

Quinn caught her arm and held her steady. 

“Thanks,” she said with a grateful smile before searching for Nova. “Are you okay, sweetheart?” she asked when she spotted the small girl, squatting over a pool. 

“There’s a star in here!” 

Sharing a conspiratorial smile with Quinn, she made her way over. 

“You’re right. That is a sea star,” she said. “Oh, and look, it’s lost an arm.”

“Oh no,” Nova said, hands coming up to her pudgy cheeks. 

“Its okay. That happens to sea stars sometimes, but guess what?”

“What?” 

“They grow right back. If we come back in two months, she’d have a brand new arm.” 

“Really?” 

“Really.” 

Watching her go from pool to pool to talk to the kids about what they’d found, he understood why the aquarium liked her to do the octopus talks. She was patient and excited and willing to talk about even the most boring of topics. 

He already knew she was smart and patient and kind, but seeing all of those things directed at people he loved made his heart feel fit to burst. 

Her sister leaned over, and Ellen leaned in to hear her conspiratorial whisper, “I’ve never seen Quinn look so lovestruck before.”

“I know,” Ellen agreed, smiling.

“It’s a good look on him. She’s a great girl.”

As they walked back to the cars, ready to get dinner and head home for the day, Jack caught up with Sarah. “Can we do that in Hawaii?” he asked quietly so no one would overhear.

She smiled over at him, “sure. Or we could go snorkeling. There are a lot of really good snorkeling coves around the island. We could find some really interesting fish. Probably even some sharks or turtles.”

His face lit up in a beaming smile, “yeah, that would be cool.” 

Day 5 (Goodbye is the hardest word): 

Quinn let himself sleep in the next morning. Savoring the last few hours he had with Sarah. 

They cuddled in bed, falling in and out of slumber until someone knocked on the door. 

“Yeah?” Quinns voice rasped, and he cleared his throat. 

“Is it safe?” Luke asked. 

“What do you want?” 

Figuring he wouldn’t have responded if they were engaged in other activities, Kylee stuck her head in, breathing a sigh of relief to find them cuddled together but fully clothed. 

“Sorry,” she said. “Ellen wanted me to remind you breakfast’s almost over, so if you want food, you need to come out now.”

When they stumbled onto the lawn, still in their pajamas, someone wolf whistled. Quinn flipped them off. 

After eating, they ended up back in bed, content to hold each other for a little while longer. 

“I’m gonna miss you so bad,” Quinn whispered. 

Sarah agreed.

“Twenty-nine days,” he breathed. 

“What?” 

“That’s when I can see you again.”

Sarah opened her mouth to dispute but remembered Jack’s plan and snapped it shut. “Maybe it won’t be so bad,” she said instead.

“No?” he asked. “Because it sounds pretty fucking awful to me.” There was a harshness in his tone she didn’t recognize. 

Easing away from him, she propped herself up so she could look into his face, “why are you mad?”

“I’m not mad.”

“Bullshit. I can hear it in your voice. Why are you mad?”

Feeling caught and cornered, Quinn blew a breath through his nose. “I just…we’re not going to see each other for 29 days - probably longer than that, and you’re telling me it’s not going to be so bad? Do you not even miss me?”

Shocked, she sat up, moving further away from him.  “What the fuck, Quinn? Of course I miss you.” 

“But not as much,” he crossed his arms over his chest as he sat up, too. 

“I miss you an enormous amount. I miss you every day we’re not together.”

“But it’s going to be fine when we’re apart?”

Sarah felt her defenses go up. “That’s not what I said.” 

“But it’s what you meant.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth, Quinn,” her voice went hard. 

He glared at her, and it shocked into her stomach. 

 Fighting against the urge to put more space between them, she said, “I don’t understand where this is coming from.” 

“I’m saying that I’m going to miss you,” his voice tipped into a borderline mocking tone as if he was trying to explain something to an unruly child, “and you’re telling me to buck up because it won’t be that bad.”

Damn Jack and his surprise. It would make everything so much easier if she didn’t have to keep this a secret. 

“I didn’t say that,” she said. Anger at being mocked and told what she was thinking simmered inside her, making her heartbeat race. 

He dropped his gaze to his hands. 

Pressing her palms into the mattress, she tried to ground herself as she thought. Ever since they’d talked about the summer and he’d asked why she always ran away, she’d been working with her therapist on sitting in these tense, uncomfortable emotions. Taking a deep breath, she tried to sort through her thoughts. What did she actually want to say? 

“Quinn, I love you.” 

He didn’t look at her, but she saw his mouth twitch. 

“This summer fucking sucks. I wish all of it was like this,” she ventured to put a hand on his knee. When he didn’t shrink away from her touch, she continued, “I miss you all the time when we’re not together.” 

He sighed, focusing on the warmth from her palm on his leg. 

“All I meant was that we made it through this 17 day stint —”

“19,” he corrected. 

“19,” she repeated. “I know 29 days isn’t the same as 19 by a long shot,” also they would see each other in 22 days, but he didn’t know that yet, “but we made it this time. I’m not saying it won’t be hard, but we’ll figure it out, just like we’ve figured out everything else.”

He lifted his head, and to her surprise, the sunlight streaming through the window was shimmering off of tears pooled in his eyes. 

“Oh, Quinn,” she said,  scooting closer to him so she could gather him into an embrace. 

He tucked his face into her neck and took some deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. Her fingers slid into his hair, rubbing soothing circles on his scalp. 

“I’m sorry,” he said into her skin. “I was just thinking about how much it’s going to suck driving back from the airport without you.”

She hummed in agreement. She’d been thinking about the long flight home without him, too. The anticipation of seeing him wouldn’t be there to soothe the ache down this time. 

“I know we made it, but now that I know how hard it is to be without you for nineteen days, it just feels like,” he lifted his head to look into her face, “it feels like now I know exactly how hard it’s going to be to wait twenty-nine.” 

The pain in his eyes ripped her heart in half. If Jack hadn’t made her promise to keep it a secret, she’d tell him right now.  

Instead, she slipped her hands to cradle his jaw and said, “it’ll be hard, but we’ll get through it together. We’ll talk every day.”

“Maybe I’ll come out for a weekend,” he suggested. 

“Sure.”

Leaning forward, he tipped his mouth to hers.

They stayed there for a long time, kissing in that slow, loving way, as if they had all the time in the world. 

When his hands snuck under her top, she let him strip it off. 

It was only when his mouth went to her neck that she remembered, “Quinn, the blinds.” 

He made a dismissive sound. 

“What if someone sees?” 

Even as he thought, then let them see, he knew Sarah wouldn’t be comfortable with it. She didn’t say anything about the door, hopefully because she’d also noticed no one had opened it without knocking since that first night. 

Convincing himself to pull away only with the promise that he'd be back in bed momentarily, he got up to close the blinds. The window looked out into the forest behind the house. He supposed someone could stumble upon it - it was on the ground floor - but he hadn’t ever noticed anyone walking by. Still, if it made Sarah more comfortable, he would do it. 

He closed the shutter doors and slid the blinds up, making sure the magnets caught so they wouldn’t fall open. 

Sunlight crept in through the cracks so that when he turned back to the bed, he found her bathed in a dim, bluish light. 

As Sarah reached for him, she murmured, “lets make the most of the time we have.” 

He didn’t waste any covering her body with his own, welcoming the electricity that sparked between their bare chests. 

They kissed and touched, exploring with a kind of rushed reverence. They had some time, but there was only so long before someone would come looking for them. 

Quinn gently rocked his hips into hers, and she responded in kind.

“I love you,” she whispered, tangling her fingers in his hair as he licked and kissed the sensitive spot that drove her mad. When she’d arrived, his facial hair was just over the cusp of stubble. Now, it was a pleasant scratch against her tender skin. 

“I love you,” he responded, so quietly she felt his lips under her ear more than she heard the words. 

“Quinn,” she breathed.

“I love the way you say my name.” His voice was dim. 

It wasn’t so much that they were trying to be quiet, as it was that this moment was just for them, and neither felt the need to speak any louder than necessary. 

 “How do you want me?” she asked before he could. He asked all the time, and he deserved to get what he wanted just as much as she did. Plus, the least she could do while keeping this secret from him was give him what he wanted. 

He moaned something into her skin. She’d asked him this before, but it still made him lightheaded. “How do you want me?” Not just how do you want sex, but how did he want her — her body and mind and soul. 

“Want you on top,” he whispered. He wanted the vision of her riding him to be the last thing he remembered from her visit. 

She let out a pleasured hum, helping him roll them over. 

They made quick work of shedding the rest of their clothing, and she slowly sunk onto him. 

A quiet whine escaped his throat as he said, “you’re so perfect.”

She leaned forward slightly so her clit brushed against his pelvis with every roll of her hips. Her eyes fluttered closed. “You’re so perfect for me, Quinn.” 

A beam of light caught his eye, and he glanced over. The closet door was open at just the right angle, so the full-length mirror mounted on it reflected her, showing him a side of her he'd never seen before. 

He was mesmerized. Watching Sarah — the sway of her back rising from the white sheet pooled around her hips  — he didn't think he'd ever seen anything so lovely.

“God, you’re so beautiful.” 

She ground against him a bit harder, and he moaned, eyes snapping back to her face just as hers flittered back open. 

The memory of their first - well second - time having sex crashed over Sarah as they held eye contact. 

Moving her hips back to sink him deeper inside her before rocking forward again, she moaned his name. She was sure their emotional connection was a big reason behind it, but no one had ever felt as good as Quinn. The love and acceptance she'd always found in his eyes gave her permission to go after what she wanted. 

In this blue-gray light, she was rendered a painting — a vision — a dream he wanted to relive every night when he closed his eyes.

His hands made a slow exploratory study of her body. Over her luscious thighs to squeeze the flesh of her hips before gliding up the curve of her waist to her lovely breasts. 

The sound she made as she arched into his touch etched itself into his brain. 

Bracing her hands on his chest, she rocked with a little more intent, chasing the spark, now glowing brighter inside her. It tightened her belly and hitched her breathing. 

“Quinn,” she whispered. 

His hand slipped up to push some of her hair out of her face. “Let go.”

“I —” The fire caught, and her whole body tightened as it licked through her veins. 

She constricted around him, and her name rushed out of him as she stole his breath, “Sarah.”  

Her hips rocked and weaved through her high, siphoning his release from him with soft insistence. 

Tenderly lowering herself, Sarah tucked her face into his neck as their skin pressed together with every jagged breath. 

His arms slid around her, keeping her close as his heartbeat slowed. 

“I love you so much.” 

She pushed herself up, keeping him seated inside her. “I love you, Quinn,” she whispered, running her fingers through his hair. “I miss you so much when we're not together.”

“I know.” Tears sheened into his vision again, “I’m sorry.”

She shook her head, sending a few pieces of hair slipping out of her bun. “You don’t need to…”

“I just hate being without you.” 

Slowly, she lowered herself to lay over him again, taking care to not move too fast. She didn’t want to let go of the feeling of him inside her just yet. “I hate being without you, too,” she murmured against his lips. 

They stayed in their little cocoon as long as they could, but Quinn was right. Eventually, someone did come looking for them. The knock on the door startled his mouth away from hers. She licked and pursed her lips. 

“Quinn?” it was his dad. 

Breath hitching, she scrambled off of him, taking the sheet to cover herself along the way. 

“Yeah?” 

The door handle didn’t move, and Sarah practically collapsed beside him. 

“Just letting you know lunch is ready, and you’re going to have to leave soon to get Sarah to her flight on time. The airport security looks really busy.”

The fact that Jim was checking up on the security lines at the airport was so tender to Sarah. It was such a fatherly, responsible thing to do. 

“Okay,” Quinn responded, “we’ll be out in a minute.”

He waited for his dads footsteps to recede before throwing on a pair of boxers and racing to the bathroom to get a washcloth for her. When he got back to the room, he found her, still wrapped in the sheet, adding the last of her things to her suitcase. That ache reopened in his chest. They would get through it, but he would miss her every second. 

“I was thinking,” Sarah began as Quinn handed her the washcloth. 

“Hm?” he asked, watching her clean up. 

“Why don’t you have Jack or someone ride along to the airport? Then at least you won’t be alone for the drive back.”

“And what if I wanted to have a quicky on the road?” he asked playfully. 

She couldn’t stop the snort. “You don’t have to, I just thought it might help with some of that loneliness.”

Her care for him stopped taking him by surprise a long time ago, but he was still bowled over by it sometimes. “You wouldn’t mind?” he asked. 

“Mind what?” 

“Two hours in the car with Jack?”

 “I think I can manage,” she said with a smile, “especially if it means you won’t be so lonely going home.” 

Though she was halfway through dressing, he didn’t hesitate to wrap her in an embrace. 

The tender moment shattered when Quinn slid his hands into her underwear to grope her butt. She laughed, but jerked away from him. “If we start that again, I’ll definitely miss my flight.”

Hands on her hips, he pulled her back, “maybe that’s the idea,” he said, quirking his eyebrows. 

Laughing, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him, deep and slow, until guilt gnawed at the back of her mind. She pulled back, looking into his eyes. “You know I don’t want to leave, right?” 

He nodded, one of his hands still cradling her rump. 

“I wish it didn’t have to be like this.” 

 He was spoiled having her this way for four whole days, and now that he’d experienced it, he didn’t want to let it go. He wasn’t rushing to practice, and she wasn’t running to school. They weren’t racing to activities or commitments. They got to just be together.

When she finished packing, Quinn reluctantly took her suitcase to the car as she went out to the lawn for lunch and to say her goodbyes.  

To Sarah, goodbyes were always the hardest part of vacations like this. She still wasn’t exactly sure how everyone was or wasn’t related, but she knew most peoples names at least. 

She hugged everyone she could, stopping to squeeze Nova and Mia extra tight. “You’ll come to Vancouver over break, yeah?” she asked. They’d discovered their fall break fell over a home game stint. 

Mia nodded, flashing a metal filled smile that had come out more and more as the days went on. “I talked to dad. He said he thinks he can get work off.” 

“Great. You have my number, so call me when you’re ready to talk.” Part of the way through their beach day, Mia had asked if she could interview Sarah for her science class. She was supposed to ask a scientist about their use of the scientific method. 

Sarah had laughed and pointed out the sticker on her water bottle. “You can’t use this in school. But this is basically the theory.” The sticker had the steps of the scientific method in a circle with the words ‘fuck around and find out’ around the outside. “I’ll give you some more eloquent answers, though,” she’d promised, knocking her shoulder into Mias as they laughed.

As he watched Sarah interact with his family, Quinn asked Jack if he wanted to drive with them. He agreed if they could stop for dinner in the city on the way back. 

On the drive, Sarah made Quinn explain how everyone was related again. Jack jumped in to help when he forgot something, or he had a different way of remembering who belonged to what family. 

Watching Sarah recite their family tree from the passenger seat, a sense of deja vu passed through Jack. Like seeing how she reacted after the loss, seeing her dedication to knowing how everyone their family loved fit together, he understood how his brother had fallen so hard and so fast. 

When they arrived at the airport, Jack took care of getting Sarah’s bags out of the car so she and Quinn could have a few moments alone. Stepping onto the curb, he noticed several girls with their cell phones out, twittering and gossiping. All of their cameras were pointed at Sarah and Quinn, who were sharing a sweet goodbye. It could be a coincidence, but Jack put himself between the girls and his brother anyway. 

When they finally parted, Sarah turned to Jack and wrapped him in a tight hug. He responded in kind, briefly lifting her off her feet. “See you soon?” 

“Yeah.” 

Turning back to Quinn, she threw her arms around him again. “I love you,” she whispered against his ear. 

“I love you, too.” 

Pulling back to look into his face, her hands moved to his jaw. “Only three weeks.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, keeping his voice quiet enough that Jack wouldn’t hear the emotion choking it. 

“I’ll call when I get home.”

“And on your layover.” 

“And on my layover,” she agreed before leaning up to press another soft kiss to his lips. 

Watching her disappear into the crowd was the worst part. He sniffed. 

Jack’s hand slipped onto his shoulder, and Quinn felt a comforting squeeze. 

They got back into the car to head back to the cabin.  

As Quinn pulled onto the freeway, Jack said, “I like her. She’s good for you.”  

Though he knew Jack wasn’t feeling quite so defensive anymore, it was the first time he’d openly said he liked them together. 

Quinn beamed, holding out a fist for Jack to bump.

“So can she come to Hawaii?” Quinn asked as they pulled off to go to the Chipotle. 

Jack choked on the water he was drinking. “I don’t —” his mind scrambled for the reasons he gave before. “I mean, Sarah’s gonna be on every other family vacation until the end of time, right?” 

Smiling, Quinn nodded, glad that Jack was picking up the vision. 

“Can we have this this one just us? For the last time?” 

He understood Jack’s reasoning, even if it did mean he wouldn’t see Sarah for another two weeks. Sighing, Quinn nodded. 

Jack smiled to himself, knowing this surprise was going to be epic. 

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

[joelalorian]

Masterlist

Series

Tides of Desire

Complete: TLOU no outbreak AU. Joel Miller is a luxury yacht captain running charters in the Caribbean. You join the crew as a deckhand and unexpectedly complicate Joel's peaceful existence. Basically the TLOU bunch on a Below Deck yacht.

Chapter One - A Prelude to the Open Sea

Chapter Two - The Adventure Begins

Chapter Three - The Cut of One's Jib

Chapter Four - Cut and Run

Chapter Five - Red Sky in Morning

Chapter Six - Edging Forward

Chapter Seven - From Stem to Stern

Chapter Eight - As the Crow Flies

Chapter Nine - Close Quarters

Chapter Ten - On Your Beam Ends

Chapter Eleven - All at Sea

Chapter Twelve - Turn the Corner

Epilogue

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fall Into Me

dbf!Joel x f!reader, ongoing

Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.

Chapter One: The Day That I Met You

Chapter Two: It All Turned Around

Chapter Three: No Mirror for Monsters

Chapter Four: Until I had met you there was no sun in my sky

Chapter Five: My whole world came alive

Chapter Six: And I knew my heart wasn't mine

Chapter Seven: I'll Catch You Darlin'

Chapter Eight: We'll Dance in the Street like Nobody's Watching

Chapter Nine: I'd Fall for You Twice if That's What You Wanted

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Petals of Affection

Complete. A floral mystery in three parts featuring Jackson!Joel x f!reader

Summary: A secret admirer gifts you a different flower and a riddle ten times before you put the clues together and discover that he's been right in front of your face the whole time.

Written for @morallyinept's Flora & Fauna challenge. Please check out all the wonderful works created in Jett's honor!

Part I

Part II

Part III

One-shots

Lost Cause

Summary: Joel thinks you shouldn’t waste your time on him. You disagree. Oneshot.

Warnings: Explicit MDNI; Jackson-era Joel; canon-ish but also not; drinking; mentions of cigarettes, drugs, dark thoughts, and death; unprotected p in v; oral (m and f receiving); interesting use of red wine; unspecified age gap; despair and hope.

Inspired by the song Save Me by Jelly Roll. Some of the lyrics have been woven into the story.

~~~~~~~~~

Fevered Flame (Marcus Pike x f!reader)

Summary: When Marcus Pike lost himself in work after that debacle with Theresa, he didn’t expect to take on a sizzling new case in the quirky town of Truth or Consequences, New Mexico. Nor did he expect to meet you, an up-and-coming agent also looking for a fresh start. An unprecedented heatwave, mind-boggling art thefts, ancient Aztec legends, this case had the works. How would he ever solve the case with the temperature rising between you both?

This fic is my contribution to @iamasaddie's Little Lady Kinky May writing challenge. Prompts were Marcus Pike and Temperature.

WC: 10.4k – I’m sorry, I have no idea where all these words came from

[essjaywrites]

Hello!

I’m Sarah and I'm an artist who also loves to write. I’m currently deep in a fourth wing obsession but fantasy in general makes me happy (also, rom coms and graphic novels and coffee.)

Below is a list of all my fics on ao3. I sometimes remember to post updates here, as well as whatever I'm doodling at the moment. Feel free to say hi :)

Fic Masterlist:

Divine Fault Line (E)

Garrick's POV | Imogen/Garrick | 68.6k words | ongoing

Set in the immediate aftermath of Iron Flame, Garrick Tavis is happily surprised to find himself still alive, but the new wards only provide a brief respite from his troubles. His best friend is keeping secrets, the politics of Navarre are in turmoil, and on top of everything there’s the unsettling feelings he’s starting to develop for one of his childhood friends…

Where Does the Good Go (M)

Modern AU with the gang all as doctors and a post-apocalyptic-ish vibe | multiple POV | 55.3k words | ongoing

Dr. Violet Sorrengail, young but brilliant surgeon, is back at Basgiath General Hospital.

She just wants to focus on her career - but then she meets Dr. Xaden Riorson and everything becomes a little... complicated.

What is really happening across the border in Poromiel? Why are he and his friends always disappearing? And why does Violet feel like it's not just Xaden who isn't telling the truth?

I Belong In Your Arms (E)

Imogen/Garrick | 11k words | complete

Imogen Cardulo left Tyrrendor four years ago in an attempt to get over Garrick Tavis (spoiler: it didn't work.) Now she's back, but is she too late?

Mess It Up (E)

Imogen/Garrick | 6.8k words | complete

It’s Solstice in Aretia and all Imogen wants is Garrick Tavis. Will she actually work up the nerve to tell him how she feels?

Birthday Wishes (M)

Imogen/Garrick | 1.2k words | complete

Imogen makes a birthday wish.

🩷 Co written fics:

Grow As We Go

The Book Cat

Adventure Friends

[millerscoffee]

dancing is a dangerous game | part two

i've got a few years on you, baby, that's all.

5.6k | joel miller x f!reader

this is part 2 of the "dancing is a dangerous game" series | other parts below:

part one | part two | masterlist

rating: 18+ MDNI

warnings (for this chapter): post-outbreak au. no ellie. no clickers. character development and plot!, age gap (joel is 56, reader is late 20s or early 30s), soft!dom joel, masturbation (f), eye contact, trauma recall (reader and joel), grief, mentions of sarah, pining, kissing, angst, fluff. no use of y/n.

summary: joel is a survivalist who (after putting you in your place™️) has invited you to stay at his homestead for one (1) month, so that's cute

A/N: ok hi, bee here! reminder that this fic is inspired by "cowboy like me" by taylor swift. i couldn't stay away from these two! this is... a loose adaptation of post-outbreak world in all honesty. i enjoy writing fluff and angst a little too much to always incorporate the heavier topics such as clickers or things of that nature. maybe it'll come to me! i hope you enjoy this chapter, it's been a fun adventure so far. thank you so much for all of your kind comments!!! ♡

Still, you wake to the smell of Joel making coffee. It’s years old, but it’s coffee. You sit up from the couch, hair in different directions. "Hey, I'll have some of that." "Where’re your manners?" "Hey, I'll have some of that… now?" Your eyes are sheened from sleep, but you're almost certain that pulls a grin from him. You hear an exhale through his nose that translates something along the lines of fine. The sound of pouring fills another cup.

Dreams like these come to you more as flashbacks. The ones of your father, of his death – most of the time in different places than where it actually happened.

At the shoreline of a beach, on top of a mountain, in the bottom of a cave. This time your night terror happens exactly where it took place.

It wasn't nearly as poetic as you would've wanted it to be for him.

An abandoned town with old buildings and a valley just outside of it.

You can feel the heat of fire even in your slumber.

Your legs twitch in your sleep. Tears crawling out the sides of your eyes as they spill and expand into kaleidoscopic shapes on Joel's couch.

Even in your dreams, your hands shake. You can make out his face tonight. The sorrow painted on his features. The end he knew he had to face. You raise your loaded pistol.

You wake up and you don't remember it.

---

The first day you wake up in Joel's cabin, it takes you a minute to know where you are.

A gasp of air brings your awareness to the surface, a sudden need to fight as your hypervigilance snaps your eyes open.

"Oh...," you mutter, subconsciously, too groggy to make connections but you ease rather quickly. A chill comes over your sweat-covered body.

From your perspective, your eyes fix on the ceiling. The pattern of wood, the feeling of your teeth against the inside of your lips. Your body unconsciously doing everything it can to regulate itself.

You didn't expect to fall asleep the night before, much less so easily, considering you were under a stranger's roof. So it caught you off guard to be so... warm under the blanket Joel gave you that smelled like him. Despite the slight stickiness of sweat. From a dream you now aren't aware you even had.

Then again, it helped the said stranger wasted no time in getting to know you. The insides of your thighs ache, a clear marker for that moment in time.

Your stomach felt like things were working in reverse. The situation so complex you don't know how to approach it.

Still, you wake to the smell of Joel making coffee. It’s years old, but it’s coffee.

You sit up from the couch, hair in different directions.

"Hey, I'll have some of that."

"Where’re your manners?"

"Hey, I'll have some of that… now?" Your eyes are sheened from sleep, but you're almost certain that pulls a grin from him. You hear an exhale through his nose that translates something along the lines of fine.

The sound of pouring fills another cup.

When you begin to move up to get the cup from him, Joel makes a grunt signaling you to stop and you sit back on the cushions. Your hands reach up to grab the hot liquid, ignoring the rush of blood pool towards your middle when you brush your fingers against his.

Too early for this shit.

You grumble a satisfied sound when the hot, bitter, old liquid reaches your tongue and your shoulders soften. You take a contemplative gaze into the cup. At the black. You wonder if the indulgence of milk ever graces Joel's mouth in a place like this.

Strange thought, but it passes.

In reality, you're doing anything, thinking of anything to distract yourself from looking up. It's inevitable, and when you do, Joel seems to be using the same tactic you are.

Very interested in a cup of coffee rather than initiating conversation.

Both of you finding easier to go with physical gestures than unraveling or understanding the other's personality. Much less small talk.

You clear your throat to break the silence.

"Thanks." You chew at your cheek. Joel's orbs pour into yours and it's more fervent than you'd like it to be.

Like you were just coming to your senses from the nights sleep you had, and he was fogging it all over again.

You look past his temple at the wall instead and he mumbles something resembling you're welcome.

It's quiet for five more minutes.

There's something about it, though, that is easy fall into.

It's not intolerable the longer you sit with it. Feels like there's no pressure to do or be anything, and that sends an unfamiliar sensation through your nervous system.

You decide to lean into it than see it as a threat. Somehow, it works. Between the rare sniffs into the air and slurps, it doesn't feel necessary to speak and you find yourself sinking into the armrest of the lumpy, yet comfortable enough, couch.

"You need help today?" You finally ask. You're here for a reason, after all. Joel needed help with... well, something. You're weren't quite sure as he was vague about it in his proposition to you, but you weren't one to take handouts.

You didn't take handouts, but you did steal them.

No need to owe anyone that way.

"Uh," Joel clears his throat, a bit jarred at the break of silence as he precedes his words with a nod, "Yeah. Stables need cleanin'. That could be a good start."

"Alright then."

Joel looks over at you with a raised brow, wondering if you had fewer words than he did. The thought washes away, and soon you're both on your separate duties.

---

Joel walks out with you to the stable where a lone, but sweet looking black horse greets you. She looks fed. Actually, she looks rather taken care of and you can tell Joel has spent a lot of his time in making sure she lives a comfortable life.

You become aware the stall could use some work – there’s some wood missing, hay is scarce, but the horse seems happy enough.

"Does she have a name?" You ask, hand tempting out for the animal to engage with. Your mind quiets at the touch of her nose brushing against your skin and your eyes gaze over the large ones she has.

Her personality is a lot like Joel's in the quiet moments you spent with him this morning: calm, kind, but generally disinterested. That tugs a grin to your cheek.

"She don't have one," Joel says behind you, his voice laced with a backstory and soaked with a mysterious pain. "Don't wanna get attached."

You don't think you've heard something so relatable.

You leave it alone.

Most of your morning is spent hammering planks of wood into the gaps of her majesty's stable while Joel takes her for a joyride. Ensuring she has plenty of exercise for the day.

She's a fairly young horse, but Joel has to makes sure her joints are warm in case he needs to go somewhere. You come to learn he does this every day. Early in the morning, he makes sure she's fed and brushed. Groomed at her feet when it's needed and exercised.

When he comes back, he hums appreciatively at the work you've done. "Looks good." You deny the way his shoulders broaden in this taut position before he climbs out of the stirrups. The way his thighs tighten in their straddle.

And you barely acknowledge his civil words, much less the tightening at your jaw from them.

"Seem pretty attached to me."

"Shut up."

A sound so unusual hits your ears and vibrates your chest. You laugh. Genuinely, not the awkward one you let out when you were undressing in front of him. Not when his eyes were fucking you. A genuine, hearty laugh.

---

You promise yourself: one month and that's it. You're out of here.

It's not that Joel has made it unbearable. In fact, it's the opposite.

There's this sense of calm at Joel's. Like even though something bad could happen at any moment, it's tucked away from the pain. Like Joel made a determination in keeping one solid buoy amidst the world of chaos. Joel made that his home.

Part of you gathers you interrupted his peace by being there. Maybe the violence you brought? Nah, couldn't be.

Yet there's another part of you that can see glimpses of his gratitude in your presence. How he cooks for the both of you, not just himself. How he's taken the time to learn your name.

Lets you use his hot water for you to take a shower. Pawning it off under some snide comment on how you needed one. You see the playfulness caper around the age in his eyes.

He shares with you what he saved all those years ago and things he's acquired now.

It's in the small nods of acknowledgement when you go out of your way to make sure he has the supplies he needs, or when you both sit on the porch only to not say a word.

Then within that there's a third, silent part of you that selfishly doesn't care whether or not he cares because he invited you, and you want to soak up every moment of these simple comforts while you can.

You dance the scales of balance. Nothing and everything at once.

---

In your time at Joel's, you learn the layout of his cabin. It's a simple thing, open layout. The living room and kitchen are side by side, bathroom around the corner.

Upstairs, 'well more like a ladder' you'd hear Joel say, that leads up to his loft bedroom. The sheets are dark, the bed is humble. But it's safe up there and he has a good lookout for any danger.

There's a second door downstairs to a make-do basement that is mostly dirt and smells of sawdust. It has supplies he's collected over the years. Things he's picked up, tools, equipment, non-perishables.

This is guarded by endless locks, and hidden by a bookcase. You find it on accident somewhere in the middle of your first week staying with him. The bookcase was off to the side, the door was open. You were already looking for him, so when you walk downstairs to find him working on something it causes you both to jump.

"Sorry! I'm sorry... I just, I was looking for you. Did you need me to till the garden?" Your question is asked quickly in a heated rush, too many words flowing from your mouth to make up for how undeniably in trouble you were.

You see Joel's eyebrows drop like you weren't supposed to see this. Not supposed to know all of his secrets. But he keeps the door cracked for ventilation when he's down there and you were supposed to be busy doing something else.

"Yeah, go ahead." His voice booms. You turn around and make a beeline back up.

He doesn't like that you know, but now you do. And it's either shrug it off, or kill you. The apathy grates at your nerves considering these are things he'd probably fought over at one point.

You take it personally that he doesn't punish you in some way for finding it out, forcing you to reflect on how fucked up that is.

You go for a walk instead.

---

You sleep on the couch the first week you're there.

The two of you haven't touched each other and it’s such a stark difference from Joel having his hands in your hair, his cock buried in your cunt the very moment you two are confronted with each other.

Confronted. That's the appropriate word. Unsure if the interaction were predator versus prey, predator versus predator. Prey versus prey.

It was animalistic and visceral when the memories flood you after the two of you say goodnight. In the dark you feel comfortable enough to explore your body, even if it’s only to touch.

It feels like a luxury to let your body be soft.

You try to not think about it too much. It happens slow.

Joel's snoring just adjacently above and it gives you incentive to traverse into your pleasures.

Your hand pushes past your shorts, languidly prying your folds apart just to find release. A soft sigh from your mouth when at touch your fingertips brushing against your clit.

You think of Joel. It's hard not to. His stupid frown, the way he takes things seriously, but holds space for you. It's easy for you to get aroused by the things he does, but more difficult to think of how undeniably attractive he is.

How everything he does sends your blood racing straight to your core. His staggering breath when he works during the day, the sweat at his brow.

You want desperately to see the sweat at his brow from between your thighs. Want his mouth to work your cunt, tongue flick and swirl at your nub of thousands of nerves that you're rolling quicker and deeper in circles.

In your wandering mind you recall seeing Joel shirtless one morning. The event caused your breath to snag while you were making breakfast. It was so out of the blue considering when the one time the two of you did have sex, he was clothed. It felt intimate. That you got to see his scars, the hairs that adorned his chest.

Like he was letting you know not only did he want you, but he was waiting for you. That it was your turn to make a move. You really wanted to, but you weren't sure you could.

Your fingers run over your slick folds, over your clit harder at the thought of how the next move would go. If you were brave enough.

Maybe you'd ride his cock, your back to him. Let him get a good view of his cock buried inside of you. If you close your eyes, you could almost feel the stretch you felt a week ago. His warmth, the scent of sawdust and musk. The skill he had in making your toes curl.

Just like they were in this moment. Biting your free fist, the rush of heat greets your climax. You try to cut the whimper from the air, but it's a struggle.

"Joel," your whisper of a moan cuts the air and you hold your breath when you feel rustling from the loft. Which really sounds like a whine, and it doesn't help much at all.

You hold your breath at the peak of your orgasm, shuddering and rolling out of it when Joel's thick voice with sleep fills the space.

"Y'call me?" There's a yawn in there, too.

Your body is spasming, coming down, and the urge to exhale is so strong it stings your lungs. Your breath hitches on the way out.

It takes you precisely 45 seconds to respond.

"No, I'm fine."

Your voice sounds broken. Fucked.

"Alright." Joel doesn't seem to phased by it. Sounds annoyed he got woken up more than anything. "Hope it was good."

That leaves your cheeks redder than they could have by touching yourself.

You roll onto your side, sleeping off the wave of embarrassment.

---

"Up. Gotta go fishin'."

You groan, stretching on the couch and he tosses your pack in your direction.

"Quit whinin', y'did that enough last night."

You groan a whine more in humiliation. "Shut up," you yawn, not quite at the point of clarity where you can fight back.

"Whatever you say. Need food. So if you wanna eat, gotta work."

You've walked pretty far out from Joel's place. You know of the river he's referring to when he says he wants to go fishing, but the two of you hadn't been there together and you certain hadn't seen the collection of fishing gear the way Joel had.

Though he only brought enough for the two of you in case of raiders. In case of someone akin to yourself, your guilt reminds you.

It's not long before you're at the riverbank. Your eyes mesmerize over the water, the presence of Joel warm at your side.

He's physically closer to you today, and you know why. Your core flutters at the thought and frustration is its close friend of your nerves. Because why would it take him so long to be this close, and why did it take something slightly humiliating happen to you for him to want the proximity.

Joel tugs at your pack that's on your shoulders and you make a slight noise of surprise. The way he thinks he can have easy access to you like that, even for something simple like putting things in your backpack, sends your mind in a yo-yo.

Going back and forth between he likes me, he likes me not. You aren't used to this, and it makes you feel weak. Like you are under his whim. You grow increasingly vexed at the thought.

When you turn around you see him holding a can of corn, and it makes sense. Cordyceps and insects don't really mix with the need to eat. Opening a can of corn, Joel baits his hook with it then yours and you scoff.

"I can do that, you know." You roll your eyes, sending your line out into the water.

"Oh, you can? Thought your wrist might be out of commission. Was doin' you a favor, really."

"Month can't go by fast enough."

"No one's makin' you stay."

That's when you're quiet, your frame facing his as you hold out your rod with one hand. You look at him like he said something he shouldn't have. Like he knows you couldn't just leave now.

"I still have my gun, you know."

You threaten. It's all you've ever known how to do.

"Jesus Christ." Joel shakes his head, averting his gaze from yours.

You don't speak much after that, deep in thought of why the idea of him running you off evoked such strong emotions within you.

Neither of you have much luck which makes you both irritated that so much effort has been put into something that is clearly proving not to work today.

Worse yet, you're proving to be distracting to Joel. Especially with events from the night before burning in his mind.

He could be stoic all he wanted to, but he's not immune to the way you fill out your jeans. The curves that accentuate your frame as you send lines out. It causes his cock to stir, come to life at the thought of him pinning you against some tree. Of slipping those jeans down just enough to slide himself inside you. To stretch you.

To get you to shut the hell up.

He shifts to conceal himself.

Yet he remembers, still, of wet you were the moment you met. How eager you were to submit to him.

Joel could feel himself being called to you, and that made things... complicated. Made it harder to just fuck you. This challenged a certain lifestyle he spent years cultivating. He couldn't touch you. Not yet.

When you get back to Joel's cabin, you're both quiet. More annoyed with each other than anything. You're sweaty and your arms are sore and come back with one trout that you have to share.

Joel cleans it, you cook it, and you barely make acknowledge each other during dinner.

---

At night, you hear Joel moan something in his sleep. His body shuffles from the loft above you while you're tucked in and he sounds scared. Heartbroken. Like his world collapsed on itself. "Sarah, baby." Even in his sleep, you can hear the pain his voice.

You don't know who that is, but she must have been important. Must have been hard to see her go, if that was the case.

For yet another reason, you find resonance with Joel and it erases your tough day with him. Somehow.

The bed rattles as he flips from what you assume is his front to his back. The sounds of his night terrors pervade the night until slowly they resolve to silence. That almost seems more unnerving, but sleep takes you with him anyway.

You don't mention it in the morning.

---

In the evening, it's the last day of your first week. Somehow you made it through, you sarcastically think to yourself. Joel, despite his rough night, seems downright chipper. Like he wants to hang out with you outside of the routine you both have inadvertently created for yourself.

So you break open a bottle of whiskey and stack wood for the fire.

Although there's a generator that allows power, most of the time Joel uses candles and fire to save up on the supplies he has. The generator takes work and requires things that quite honestly are beyond your comprehension. He's obviously smart (annoying), and it shows in the things he tries to teach you – as if you'll be here longer than your verbal agreement.

It would feel like a dream if not for the constant worry someone or something could attack you at any moment. Especially when more times than not that person is yourself.

The location is pretty remote, but that doesn't mean much for the world you live in. Everything abandoned, including most people's empathy. Maybe even your own. Shame creeps up your spine to remind you just how you got here in the first place.

Taking the stout glasses from the cabinet, you take note of how soft your hair feels for the first time in a long time when you tuck it behind your ear. Focusing on not pouring the liquid anywhere but the glasses. Bringing the amber liquid over to Joel, your make it a point to brush your fingertips over the warm but solid hand that takes from you.

"Thank you, honey." You make it seem casual as you hold onto the edge of the couch to keep your knees from buckling at the term of endearment. Fuck him, he's not playing fair.

Like cat and mouse, when you think you have him, he buckles you under. Make you understand that he has more control over you than you care to realise.

A tangle that begs to be undone.

By the fire, you curl your legs when you sit on the couch and though at first it is quiet, by some weird miracle the two of you get to talking. The whiskey doing its job, you write off.

Joel keeps his cards close. That's plain to see.

So when he brings up the past, it blindsides you. He brings up his past. On his terms.

When he mentions life before all this, it's brief. No mentions of the people that would fill out spaces in your mind. No Sarah. It was more of what he did. Construction company. Football on Sundays. You see a genuine smile fall over his face, and he almost looks peaceful.

As the fire turns to embers, his gaze stays focused on the dull-orange glow and he looks tranquil.

"Enough about me, tell me 'bout you," Joel's eyes twinkle against the flame, and you'd give up the rest of your time here just to see that for a little while longer.

His voice sounds thicker like this. When he drinks. Like honey stuck inside his throat, the southern words are easy to string sentences together fluidly. You don't hide how it causes your heat to tilt to the side before realising just how hard-hitting that curiosity is.

A puff of breath exhales from your puckered lips when you lift both eyebrows. "Loaded request," you swallow the rest of the liquid courage and don't react when it stings your throat.

You tell him where you're from, parts of where you've been.

"Well. 'Was born a few years before... everything. Don't know much outside this type of life. This is probably one of the nicest places or... experiences I've ever had. You really know how to treat your bandits."

Even more indistinct than he was. Doesn't seem to bother him much.

Joel's toothy laugh startles you initially, but you soon register it's safe to do the same and your eyes gleam in response to each other. He keeps that contact with you as he finishes off his own drink to match you.

"Guess I got a soft spot for ones like you."

"Like me? What type of one might that be?"

"Nosy. Tender. Too mouthy."

You brush at your cheeks, exhaling a laugh and quiet slips again between the two of you. You're unsure of what to say, of how to keep the conversation going.

Your lips press together while you scan the room.

"You know, I've been here a week and I ain't seen you use that thing...," you wander off, changing the subject as you point at the record player collecting dust.

"That's 'cause it's for special occasions."

"Sounds to me like the 1988 Texas Longhorns NCAA National Championship should be a special occasion enough."

"Nosy. Mouthy."

"Inquisitive. Communicative. Tipsy, maybe."

"Definitely the latter."

You get your way.

Both of you stand from the couch to walk over to the record collection, and you see him pull out a record like it was made of glass.

"Texas's very own," Joel says with pride while gazing over the worn vinyl sheet of some Waylon Jennings record. The singer has a cigarette hanging from his lips in the picture and you stifle a giggle.

"What?" He asks, instantly defensive.

"Nothing! Just not used to seein' this type of stuff."

"You're in for a treat, babygirl." Shit. Your cheeks grows hotter if the whiskey didn't do it already.

Crackling starts off as the record adjust, and there's a part of you that feels sadness over the fact that you don't remember the last time you really heard music. Produced music before the outbreak.

You both sink into the couch again. The start of the record is upbeat, and equally your taste but not your taste at all.

You see the satisfaction slip over Joel's face though, and that makes it easier to get into as you pour you both another round.

"Neil Young wrote this song," you hear Joel drawl, unusually giddy and if you weren't at the edge of your seat hanging onto every word before, you are now.

Because you're getting a lesson and you're seeing him come alive. There's a part of you coming alive too, and you don't even get weirded out by the fact that this type of enthusiasm reminds you of your dad. It feels safe, familiar, and enjoyable to be around.

And so uniquely Joel, you don't get lost.

A completely different individual that somehow has entered your life and flipped it upside down.

If you weren't caught up being wrapped up around his finger, you could see yourself getting emotional over the ease of this interaction.

"Yeah?" you press, fist curling in your chin as you take a swig of your drink.

"Part of Harvest right after 'Heart of Gold'. Waylon changed the lyrics a little bit. He was known to do that."

You don't realise it, but you are grinning from ear to ear.

Like you detonated something you can't undo. Like you're watching the man's mind work in real time.

"That's pretty cool. Sounds like he did what he wanted to. Texan trait?"

"Somethin' like that." Joel grins, going back to his stillness and while you respect it, a part of you wants to say something to get him back on that train. You don't.

Joel turns the record and it's not long before you approach the end of it, a song that seems to resonate to him on an instant note causes him to close his eyes. Causes him to take in the music.

You begin to wonder what it's like when his fingers strum over a melody. If it's anything like what you just witnessed.

Whether it was the whiskey or attraction, Joel stands up. His hand reaches out for yours, and it looks so small in his hand when accept.

Joel doesn't give you much say in if you want to dance or not because he's pulling you to him, overwhelming your senses as your lips brush against the fabric of his shirt. You tiptoe to just graze his shoulder. "Ooph," you flush at the feeling of his head heavy against your own shoulder.

His arms wrap around you and you both sway. Your hands finding his hair, arms snaking around his neck. You don't move your feet very much. Instead, it's more you're holding each other. Like the drinks are kicking in and you're able to feel without the looming presence of consequence at your door.

The lyrics feel pointed, like they're saying everything he can't.

- I've got a couple more years on you, baby, that's all. -

Joel's chest vibrates at the response of his humming when his nose brushes against your hairline. Your skin heats, palm soft against the flesh of his neck and you know, unmistakably, that causes him to shiver.

Neither one of you able to look at each other yet. Despite it all.

Despite the obvious sign rearing its head.

- That's not that I'm wiser it's just that I've spent more time with my back to the wall. -

You tempt your cheek to brush against his. His stubble tickling and poking your skin at once while your thumb preoccupies the other side of his face. Against his temple, the shell of his ear.

Your eyes close because you feel so overwhelmed, all you want to do is memorise the way his body feels against you.

The solidity of his chest. The way his exhales filter through the hairs of his mustache. It causes your fingers to move from the side of his face to twist in his hair, pulling it gently if only to hold on tighter to him.

This stirs something within Joel. Makes him turn to face your neck.

There's a sort of dichotomy in the pound of your heart and how delicate it feels against the very ends of his lips. It takes you back to when you met. How he wouldn't touch his lips to the structure holding your head, and now he's brushing against it. Like he's wanting to be let in.

Even though it's feather light, it causes you gasp quietly. Your face goes crimson, moving your chin to face him.

Your lips now a sliver between each other.

You could run. You could scream. You could kiss him and let the throes of this take you under.

Definitely the latter, you decide. Pushing your mouth experimentally against the plush set, your ears ring in a way you weren't sure how they ever could.

- Saying goodbye girl don't ever come easy at all, but you've got to fly 'cause you're hearin' them young eagles call. -

Joel's lips chase yours, one hand cupping the side of your face and you feel the heat from it along your chin all the way up to the side of your head and behind your neck. It's inviting and feels discernibly uncomplicated for something the two of you resigned would be very complicated.

When the song ends, you pull away from him. You don't notice it straight away, but his arms have wrapped around you so tightly you can't get out of his grasp. And it doesn't feel overpowering, it feels tender. Joel's eyes soft like a doe's. Like the song absorbed into his blood. Like he feels that way about you.

You don't want him to let go, but there's an understanding when you pull back so does he and his grip is fleeting. Even if you objected, he still would back off. Leaving you warmed by the ghost of where his heat was.

The touch of him stays through your clothes.

There's two songs left on the record, but you aren't sure either of you are really listening to it. Joel turns around in the direction of the record player and is even more cautious than he was before in putting back the album, enveloping it in its label. Label in the sheet.

His hands careful, delicate amongst the thickness and roughness of them. You shudder, knowing he was this way with you. Protective.

When Joel back turns around, his eyes are dark. Like he's thirsty, but would only drink if you let him. He's deliberate in brushing past you on his way up to the loft, his presence lingering just at the end of the stairs.

"Come to bed."

It's simple, and what you come to learn, is Joel's way of asking. He don't. But he gives you room to make the choice.

You don't recall your eyes even scanning the living room. They only land on the broad frame in front of you, and you follow it like a beacon of light.

Beginning your second week, you don't sleep on the couch anymore.

---

It's in what you don't know. How Joel wakes up the night you hear his dream – covered in a cold sweat from a loop he has continuously gone through for years. What he could have done differently, how he could have positioned his body. Flashbacks.

His hands bracket over his eyes as he rubs them. Silently begging for peace. An end. Something.

You don't realise it, but the sight of you makes him calm. Even in your stubbornness and unwillingness to let him in. Even within his own set of inabilities to trust.

A true stillness invades his mind that hadn't experienced since the very subject of his nightmares.

He doesn't quite believe in fate, but if he did, Joel would be willing to bet she sent you.

Even more, he'd be willing to bet she would have liked you.

A/N (con't):

"a couple more years" by waylon jennings is the song they dance to. the lyrics the lyrics – cries in joel coded

[the-blue-eyed-firebender]

Hi!

Have I ever told you this? (Probably! But I'll say it again, ha) It's been an absolute treat reading your Royai fics. Thank you for joining this fandom!

What are your inspirations? 😃 In terms of writing style, but also ideas, etc. Please indulge us all, and please do geek out about your writing process too!

I always love learning about how fan fic writers work and write!

Thank you, and I hope you have a lovely day~

Hey there!

You are so kind. It's hard to put into words how much it means to have had such a lovely reception from the FMA fandom. I used to write a lot when I was a kid, but eventually stopped due to some unfortunate and painful circumstances. Writing for this fandom over the last couple of months has been an incredible journey. It has healed some very intrinsic parts of me that I’d forgotten were wounded, and I have written more in the last few months than I have in 15+ years.

So, first and foremost, thank YOU.

Inspirations: I've always been a lover of fantasy and science fiction. My very first fandom was Star Wars, followed shortly thereafter by Avatar: The Last Airbender. Recently, I've become a huge Sarah J. Maas fan (I read ALL of her books in the year 2023 - minus the new one that came out in January). I've also enjoyed Suzanne Collins and Leigh Bardugo (particularly her Six of Crows duology).

But really, I just love stories. I love adventure, magic, and romance. I look for complex characters, vibrant worlds, strong magic systems, and rich backstories. My favorites always involve women who embody strength (mental, physical, and emotional), capable leadership, and femininity. Characters who are equal parts war-like and compassionate, fearsome yet soft.

But my very best inspiration comes from real-life: my sweet husband. It's going to sound silly, but I feel like I write about true love because I've experienced it. This guy was 100% written by a woman (lol). He's read everything I've written, and provides the most wonderful feedback and encouragement.

As far as style/process, I feel like I am still developing it? Haha! It's only been a minute since I got back into writing. But it usually starts with daydreaming to music (often songs without lyrics; Secession Studies is a favorite), typically while I'm in the car. With my first FMA fic, The Counteroffer, I was listening to "Beautiful Things" by Benson Boone on repeat. Something about the way he sings "Please stay / I want you, I need you, oh God" really set the tone for that story. That, combined with inspiration from the infamous Chapter 54 of A Court of Mist and Fury.

There's usually an moment or a line of dialogue that pops into my brain first (for The Counteroffer, it was Hawkeye lifting the discharge paperwork to find Mustang has also given her an unsigned marriage certificate). I write that bit, then the rest of the story sort of fills in around it. I write in disjointed fragments, adding chunks here and there and then connecting them together. Sometimes I shuffle things around, moving chunks to different locations in the story to see how it changes the flow.

Beginnings, endings, and titles are usually the hardest for me to come up with.

And here's a few of my own patterns that I've started to notice:

I love stories that read with a poetic beat to them (I think the best example of this in my own work is Hourglass).

I use line breaks for emphasis a lot.

I am intentional about keeping things concise but impactful. When it comes to word count, my personal rule is quality > quantity, always.

I try not to use "said/says" without other descriptive words.

If a portion of the story is dialogue driven, I'll read it aloud to make sure it actually flows like real conversation.

I often drop "and" from sentences when I feel like it messes with the poetic flow ("She became familiar with the space between heartbeats, the squeeze of the trigger, the wet sound of a bullet finding its mark." - Hourglass).

In the same vein, I use a sort of "rule of threes" quite a bit. I break sentences into three parts, offer three descriptions of a character's observation/sensation/emotion, repeat the same phrase three times, etc. (Oh look, I've done it again.)

I write in third person, present tense, always from the perspective of one character at a time. I feel like this puts myself and the reader right in the middle of the action, as it's happening. I dive deep into the primary character's thoughts and senses, both internal and external.

I re-read/re-watch the original content (i.e. FMAB, the manga) often, even if it's just in small parts. It keeps me grounded to who these characters are, and prevents me from going OOC. It's so easy to lose track of characterization if it's been too long since I watched an episode or read a chapter.

Hoo boy this got long. Thanks so much for the delightful ask! It was a lot of fun to dive into my own writing process and habits.

[lessi-lover]

Who are your favourite writers and why? love you 💕

hmm.. 🫶🏻

recently i've been in love with @@inuyashaluver and i'll read her work everytime i can't fall asleep, my favourites of her's are; 'just best friends', 'secret' and 'lessi bear'.

another one of my favourite writers is @woso-dreamzzz my favourite series of hers are 'the big adventures' which is a pernille harder x magda eriksson series and many series from 'the kids'.

also obsessed with recent works from @sunnyaelia her alexia fics are just so good and i love the way she writes the players personalities she really does it so well.

another favourite series of mine is an alessia russo x williamson reader series by @wosounited, and i'm sitting down every time a new part is uploaded i swear-.

@lovinpelova is a really lovely writer for jessie fleming and she's got a kerstin casparij fic and victoria pelova work that i really enjoyed, so if you're interested in that go check her out.

everybody loves @sunsetkerr and i always find my way back there some way or another when i need my monthly dose of my love sammy k.

@alotofpockets (mel 🫶🏻) has got so many works and writes for so many people it's actually crazy and i'm always going back to her and some ella toone stories from @totaly-obsessed (sarah 🫶🏻) when i can't fall asleep.

[eternalgirlscout]

writing a character i don't totally Get like i'm doing lab research. taking rigorous notes on behavioral observations. hooking them up to a heart monitor while they run on a treadmill. squinting at data on a computer screen in the middle of the night and tearing out my hair.

[pricemarshfield]

in truth tempest can never be tamed

a mostly canon compliant raphtav fic, in which raphael is obsessed and tav is a mystery he can't quite figure out. it doesn't end well for him. INCREDIBLY self-indulgent content of my oc. warning for (canon compliant) major character death and graphic depictions of violence.

technically the first raphtav AND the first bg3 fic i ever started writing, back in october before i'd even finished the game! i hadn't even admitted to liking raphael yet <3 "just an interesting perspective for my oc" okay past sarah, whatever you say

Raphael's lying when he tells them he's surprised they’ve made it as far as they have, though he's honest about being impressed. The merry band of adventurers were always going to reach Baldur’s Gate with Tav at the lead, so singularly focused. It’s not some blind faith (as if a devil is capable of such a thing). But even Korrilla’s first notes had given him…conviction, in her abilities. Clear leader of the group. Skilled liar. More interested in the accolades of heroism than the good deeds itself. Seemingly unbothered by Zariel’s old blade or Mizora’s pet. Shall I keep watching? [See the tags and read the full fic on AO3 here.]

[zenaidamacrouras1]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love! <3

Oh my gosh 5 is a lot! This is so sweet and I can't wait to pass it on. I like all my fics that I have posted or I would never finish editing them, but I do have favorites.

1. I mean my favorite overall is my fic Backhoe which I think is both technically speaking more ambitious than most of my stuff and also very personally dear to me for all kinds of reasons. I have a few chapters that I think landed flat, and if I had infinite time to tinker, things I would improve. But a couple of the chapters are, in my opinion, the absolute best shit I have ever written. In some ways the areas I don't like are a compliment because I think that fic is worth some serious investment and thinking critically about themes and whatnot because I just adore it.

2. I actually really like my fic The Charming Man because it's so different than my other stuff, I am not saying I nailed all the tropes but I really enjoyed playing with the spy world. I have always loved the concept of a character falling in love with a spy as a regular person and getting caught up in their spy world and then holding their own as a civilian. It is such a delightful trope. Having small Steve being the hero mainly by using utterly mundane competency like being good at spreadsheets and really quick to hit the elevator button and generally knowing where in a cubicle office layout you could find a bandaid is a dynamic I adore. It was a huge challenge, but in the good way, for me to try and do my own version.

3. I like my short fic "Take Me Anywhere" in part because Bucky is a ballet dancer, and guhhh speaking of things I like. But I feel like that fic accomplishes a lot in relatively few words which is honestly hard for me. Everything I write ends up super long which is not a compliment. It's a real art that I admire, possibly because I am bad at it, to write something short that carries weight and depth and an arc, and so many fic writers are fucking incredible at it. More isn't always more as we all know.

4. History of American Capitalism started off as something so self indulgent when I was in an absolutely profoundly bad place mental healthwise. I was so sure that everyone else would think it was the dumbest thing anyone on the planet ever shoved into the world. I was initially sooo embarrassed to share it. But in fact it's my most popular fic, which is kinda funny. It ended up completely by accident being halfway a memoir of my college experience, with many things very different but funny things like the layout of their apartment was based on the layout of one of my college apartments, stuff like that. Also the dead mom and having panic attacks at the idea of falling in love because it makes you vulnerable. Also having the fear that every one you love will die but then you end up self sabotaging in your attempt and severely harming people you love in your twisted brains attempts to protect yourself.

I also enjoy exploring the concept of celebrity which I do in a few fics but it's an interesting concept given my interest (brainrot) for these famous people who, to be clear I don't want to actually know and date, honest, but what could it look like to have a "normal person" be in a relationship with a famous person and have it be equal?

Haha it's also very cheerful and light hearted despite that description.

5. Probably Monoclonius because dinosaurs! 🦖🦕 And I was recently in DC for work and it is a bit of a love letter to the city. I don't know if the chapter where Bucky and Sarah ride on the metro together on their little adventure is actually a perfect chapter, but it is perfect to me. And I will always be proud of how everyone describes that fic as wholesome and innocent and tender and sappy and yet it is like wall to wall sex scenes at points. Me and my wholesome, earnest smut.

[avatarskywalker78]

Need to Knows

(Redone because it wouldn't let me add links to the old version)

My AO3

My SquidgeWorld

My FFN (all but abandoned tbh but if you’re curious about my old fics)

OC Masterlists (still under construction)

DC & Marvel

Sci-fi & Fantasy

Action, Adventure, Drama

Canon Fancasts

My WIPs (both Active and Backburner, though as is the nature of fic writing these can easily change around if the mood strikes me!)

OC taglists so far (you don’t have to respond, this is a reminder for me!)

@shrinkthisviolet (All)

@starstruckpurpledragon (All)

@ocappreciation (all)

@negative-speedforce (Steph Taylor, Alyssa Clayton, Charlie Kumar, Tanya, Theodore Edward Thawne, Teri Merlyn, Brianna Thawne, Zoe Thawne, Ashton Thawne)

@daughter-of-melpomene (Steph Taylor, Alyssa Clayton, Charlie Kumar, Tanya, MCU, Brianna Louise Wilson, Meri Solo, Nellith Skywalker, and Mel Hathaway)

@vexic929 (Steph Taylor, Alyssa Clayton, Charlie Kumar)

@dream-beyond-the-fantasy (Miyagi-verse, Emilie Brooke, Hannah Edwards, Lissa Blackwood, Alex Thompson, Maia Curry, Magni Thorson, Sophia Reynolds, Meri Solo, Nellith Skywalker, and Brianna Louise Wilson)

@ofbriarandrose  (Nicky Connors, James Connors, Leah Barnes, Elaine Barnes, Sarah Barnes, Alex Barnes, Javed, Gemma Laura McKinney, Lizzie McKinney)

@dawnquafam (Maia Curry, Tina Curry, Teri Merlyn, ,Magni Thorson, Módi Thorson, Thrúd Thorsdottir, Fenrisúlfr Lokison, Mel Hathaway, Devon Avery)

@captainsophiestark (Sarah Matthew Thompson, Christina Thompson, Nathaniel Thompson, Olivia Thompson, Alex Thompson, Kathy Williams)

@lady-of-the-spirit (Meri Solo, Maia Curry and Lexa Sullivan)

@ormymarius (Maia Curry, Tina Curry, Devon Avery)

@highlordofkrypton (Maia Curry, Tina Curry)

@fezwearingjellybananas (Theodore Edward Thawne)

@mischiefmanaged21 (Teri Merlyn)

Feel free to ask me anything about my fics or my OCs!! Also any ask games I reblog are always open, though do please specify which one you’re asking for! Likes, asks and follows will be from @goldheartedchaoticdisaster

[shaperaverse-brainrot]

@steampunk-raven thank you so much, I'm going to do Han first and then maybe Sarah in a reblog at some point.

First Impression

Gotta admit I kinda panicked at first when Helen introduced her with "dark oriental magic she brings to us from the east" but literally the next line it turned out Paul Shapera was critiquing the trope rather than making her play right into it so...

Impression now

Where do I even begin. I love her. She's awesome. I wish I could draw or write her more but I really struggle making her look/sound as awesome as she does in my head. She might not be my absolute all time favourite Shaperaverse character but she's at least top six. Maybe top five.

Favourite moment

I really like the storytelling in Han Mi's storytime theatre. It's probably just her actor's voice (Psyche I think? My mind is blank right now) but the narration style in it is amazing. Oh and Han saying Mary "wouldn't send someone on a dangerous journey she wouldn't do herself" THE SIDE EYE IN THE VOICE I'M SORRY

My favourite oddly specific moment has to be when Han Mi shaking with tears and having just gone through one of the most awful moments of her life is begging Henry to get it up

Idea for a story

Well I asked for these characters to be sent just to procrastinate on writing a fic with Han in so...

Apart from that I would be really interested in exploring her flowering in comparison to Lloyd's. Maybe Lloyd can find her after a nightmare or she could admit that she's really been struggling dealing with everything and Lloyd draws comparisons between her and him hiding away after Matt's death.

Unpopular Opinion

I don't think I really have one? I think the closest I would have is that I wish we got more of her and Raven growing closer, especially given how important she is to Raven's while redemption arch thing. Like we have little snippets from twitter tales, Raven in Lost Fairy, and of course the postie cabaret, and it may just be me wishing for more happy postie content but yeah. And I wish we got Raven's reaction to finding out he not only had a daughter, but that daughter got to grow up, and start a family of her own

Favourite relationship

I have already ranted about her and Raven in the Raven ask I got, so I'll choose to speak about Han and Henry in this one. They're the only surviving members of the cabaret, and the fact that if Han could go on an adventure anywhere with anyone she'd go on a pirate adventure with Henry???? (If I recall correctly). I love them so much. And it is of my opinion that a big reason she couldn't skip Henry's wedding was because she was his best man (best woman?)

Favourite headcanon

She looks almost nothing like Raven or Isabela. Sure, maybe there's something in her smile, or in a curious expression she wears that looks so much like David getting used to the August Sky Playhouse, or when you see her from a certain angle and she holds herself in a similar way Isabela did, but you wouldn't know they were related unless you were told.

Even so, Raven likes to joke that she truly is their grandkid. She may not look like them, but she has a similar sense of humour to Raven, she can hold her own and plan shenanigans in a similar way Isabela did. She likes to give shiny gifts to people and experiment with her appearance and expression like her great-grandpa does.

And Raven is prouder of her than anything else. He doesn't know if Isabela would be, but he tells Han she would have been, anyway.

[trentcrimminallybeautiful]

AO3 Tag Game!

Tagged by @mvshortcut :) I'm gonna stick with just this fandom/this account for this one to make it less confusing

How many works do you have on AO3?

44. (Including snippet collections.) For this fandom/account. Far more if you count bi-demon-ium or my old account or my older account or

What’s your total AO3 word count?

Okay this one it won't let me separate by pseud or fandom so you're just gonna have to live with being lumped in with all my MBS and a few other misc fics at "653,461". Didn't get the other accounts though. Man, I'm a mess

How many fandoms have you written for, and what are they?

Okay, well, this one by nature is also not solely for this fandom,

(number in parentheses is number of ao3 works posted)

Ted Lasso (obviously) (44) (including snippet collections)

The Mysterious Benedict Society (116) (also including snippet collections)

Instinct (2) (one is a small snippet collection--)

House MD (1)

Death by Dying (1)

Gravity Falls, technically, but it was one crossover (1)

ditto with The Legend of Zelda (1)

King Falls AM (1)

The House in the Cerulean Sea (6)

Shadowhunters (??? at least 36) (some now hidden/lost)

Professor Layton (1)

The Librarians (2)

The Sandman (1)

The Mentalist (2)

Star Trek (AOS) (1)

Sanders Sides (at least 1)

Miraculous Ladybug (1)

Rosewell: New Mexico (2)

The Dresden Files (1)

That's stuff posted to ao3/finished. There's also, technically,

for stuff I published when I was twelve and I now refuse to acknowledge (not all bc of the fandom but bc the fic was Bad):

Doctor Who

Supernatural

Sherlock

Psych

Castle

Welcome to Night Vale

Avengers

A Series of Unfortunate Events

And then stuff I've written for but never finished:

Warehouse 13

Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (2016)

Dirk Gently (2010)

SurrealEstate

Zoo (podcast)

Once Upon a Time

Scooby Doo

Person of Interest

The Goes Wrong Show

Spy Kids (???)

Ace Attorney

The Adventure Zone

Criminal Minds

Star Trek (TOS, TNG, and DS9)

Haven

MacGyver

Trollhunters

exactly one (1) joke The Magnus Archives fic

Percy Jackson and the Olympians + The Kane Chronicles + Tales of Apollo

Leverage

Pushing Daisies

The Sarah Jane Adventures

Megamind

Bones

Avatar: the Last Airbender

Lucifer

Some of these are deeply questionable and/or only have like two (2) wips or even posted works at most, but I'm thorough. Also, I will write about almost anything bc my brain loves to process things like this. I may have even missed something

Top five fics by kudos:

Ted Lasso Kisses Trent Crimm On The Mouth (1125)

semaphore (977)

off the handle (719)

linger (699) (nice)

a preacher, a bikini, and a kiss or two (641)

Do you respond to comments?

I really try to, but then I get all in my head about it and/or am really really tired and put it off so long it then feels like it would be weird to respond because it's been forever. However, if there's a direct question or something I want to address/respond to, as in, I have something particularly unique to say or a question to answer, then I'll usually respond really fast

What’s the fic with the angstiest ending you’ve ever written?

Honestly, I'm not a huge unhappy ending person, a lot of the time I'll have a first chapter I was initially going to end really angsty (see ink sunset and make a mess of you) and then added more to fix it at least somewhat. As is... maybe the somewhat unresolved emotional tension (for Ted and Trent, at least, Roy's doing great) in something to get off my chest, the +1 for betrayal's sting / absolution's balm? I have some worse ones in an old fandom on an old account but. meh.

Do you write crossovers?

Not often, but I rotate them in my brain. Honestly, though, I'm more inclined to write a fusion than a crossover proper. And even so, I tend to just be thinking about it rather than actually writing it. I've only written one crossover in recent memory (recently, that is) and it was mostly a joke about a shared actress made into actual angst.

Have you ever gotten hate on a fic?

Yeah lmao

Do you write smut?

😏 sure do

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

👁️👁️ not in this fandom

Have you ever had a fic translated?

yes!! also not in this fandom

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

In this fandom? Trent/Ted. overall? no idea, because recency bias, my all-time favorite is whatever I'm into right now, which isn't really objective but hyperfixationitis.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish, but don’t think you ever will?

:( so many. AND there are a lot of posted fics I want to write a sequel/companion piece for and idk if I'll ever get the energy...

I guess off the top of my head, for this fandom, I'd go with lost sight of (who you are) (motivation died because it's old enough no one knows it exists anymore lkfgjh) and ink sunset (I WANNA FINISH IT I DO I DO I DO)

What are your writing strengths?

I think I can write a really funny string of dialogue, and I'm also fond of fun metaphors, both in the elegant poetic way and in the more Douglas Adams/Terry Pratchett way (which is to say, still potentially elegant but also comedic as hell)

What are your writing weaknesses?

Motivating myself to write anything; being overly self-indulgent

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fics?

I'm extremely bad at linguistics in general, so if I must include someone talking in another language in my fic, I think I'd tend to cheat and do italics or some other indication that this is 'in another language' (ie "Where are you going?" she asked in Russian), but that's admittedly a lazy approach. But I also think it's probably better than butchering it with an auto-translator? Also, when people just include the translation in the end notes, even with a link (although that makes it marginally better) it breaks the flow of the story and makes it hard to read. Making an effort to at least match grammar is good (which I would do if it was for longer than a single scene, probably) but I think the best solution is when people know what they're doing and like, have an actual translation with a little html code so you can click on it and it reveals what it means? Or if you're clever, revealing what it means using context around it, but that has its own limitations. So that both like, uses the actual language and doesn't break up the flow. It balances accessibility, flow, and respect for the other language in question well. But you've got to both know what you're doing with the language (either asking someone/hiring someone/knowing the language yourself) and the html (although there are guides for that you'd have to spend time figuring it out + know it exists in the first place to look). And this is fanfiction, something we ultimately do for free in our spare time, so the lazy approach, I think, can be understandable. Maybe not in every context, but it's not worth stressing a lot over in a few random lines or anything, you know? It is really cool when people do know a language well enough to include it properly in a fic, though, it can say a lot about a character or dynamic; and their background(s) and like. it's neat :)

What was the first fandom you ever wrote for?

Ever? Doctor Who. In a shitty little notebook in middle school. Then there was some Star Trek (both TNG and TOS) and Avatar: the Last Airbender and Marvel and such, and then Supernatural (my first smut? extremely terrible Destiel smut. rip) and I think the first thing I ever posted was Welcome to Night Vale? Not sure.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written so far?

Oh, man. I have no idea. Here's a few favorites from this fandom:

matters of the heart

trick & treat

vita nova

melt like this

"second impressions"

"reveal"

probably those time travel snippets, just in general

tagging:

PLEASE, if you want to do this, I'm begging you, tag me in it and do it. i'm too tired to come up with names im so sorry

[questinwitchface]

Force me to work on a WIP

For every vote each option gets, I will write a sentence. If you want to vote for more than one, tell me in the tags/replies/reblogs.

If you come across this poll after it ended and still want to participate, just add your response in the notes :) Also if you want to know more about a WIP, send me an ask. Always happy to chat about my WIPs!

[blackboxtheater]

For that 40 questions thing, 4, 14, and 40 please?

4. How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Care to share one of them?

There's nothing I'm nurturing right now in the sense that it would be a serious story I would ever publish. When I have an idea I tend to write it rather quickly so it doesn't drive me totally insane, which just gives me a lot of random scenes thrown together in a giant messy document lol. But there are some things for non-mcyt fandoms and some original work that are kicking around in my head.

But all that being said......I listen to a lot of actual play Dungeons and Dragons podcasts and I'm constantly fitting situations and characters from mcyt into D&D mechanics. So I keep coming back to that idea a lot. I even got pretty far into a loosely connected series of one-shots about a D&D party of hermits that I'll share the summary for.....

Xisuma, the chosen one of the Goddess Craft, is starting to wonder if there really is an epic quest. Because all he seems to be doing is collecting idiots who can destroy monsters as easily as they destroy his patience. That doesn’t mean he loves his party any less. And at least they saved the server from disaster. For now anyway. Until someone lights something on fire....again OR: A series of moments from the very long life of an adventurer and the people he meets along the way 

14. What’s the worst writing advice you’ve ever come across?

It's less advice, and more the sense that a premise is a plot. And it's just......not.

A plot is a plot. Things need to happen in a story. (This is talking about longer stories, not one-shots or short fics.)

Like, do I love a good soulmates AU? Absolutely! But the idea that someone will have the first words their soulmate says to them written on their body is not a series of events that makes me want to keep reading to discover what happens next. Who are the soulmates? What are they doing? How does this condition affect them and their lives? Why does that matter? What happens in the story?

Another example of this, for anyone familiar with the Sarah J Mass books/universe, is the first Crescent City book "House of Earth and Blood". The premise is bringing this big interconnected fantasy universe into a modern urban setting, and that's a great fun premise! But the plot is a murder mystery. The actual thing the characters do for 800 freaking pages is solve a murder. 'Woman tries to solve her best friend's murder with a bad boy cop' is the plot of that novel.

40. Write an alternative ending to [insert fic title] (or just the summary of one).

So I'm going to take this as an open ended ask for an alternative ending of any of my fics, but if you meant it differently, please let me know!

And y'all KNOW I am a staunch believer in talking about feelings.

But...... for funsies here is an alternate ending that diverges at chapter 12 of my gemtho fic We Were Shy where Pearl and BDubs are a little more proactive, inspired by the joke at the time that Gem was the boss of Decked Out level 4 and she would just be released into the dungeon to kill Etho.

----

Pearl's POV:

Pearl was waiting for Tango in the control room.

“Pearly pop? Why aren’t you running the dungeon?” He looked between her and the empty dungeon.

“Tango. We need your help.”

“We?”

“Yeah. We.” BDubs said. Pearl laughed at the extremely high pitched noise Tango made when he finally noticed BDubs standing behind him in the shadow of the door.  Pearl appreciated that she wasn’t the only one who could be a little sneaky when she wanted to be.

----

<You whispered to GeminiTay> gem want to kill Etho in the dungeon?

<GeminiTay whispered to you>  YES

<You whispered to GeminiTay>  no follow up questions?

<GeminiTay whispered to you> TIME AND PLACE

----

On one monitor, Pearl, Tango, and BDubs watched Etho climb into the minecart to start a Decked Out run that he had no indication would be out of the ordinary. On another, they watched Gem crouched and hiding on level 2, her hand twitching on the hilt of her diamond sword as she prepared to hunt Etho through the dungeon. Or at least, that's what Pearl had told her she would be doing.

They let Etho get most of the way through level 1, waiting until he commented on how strange it was that he hadn't seen any Ravager yet, before Pearl cleared her throat before she leaned into the microphone in Tango's control room.

“Attention Etho and Gem. Yes Etho, Gem is in the dungeon with you. Tango’s gonna, yup, stop any more cards from playing. Now Etho, you should know that Gem has a massive crush on you.”

“And Gem,” Bdubs poked his head close to the mic. “Etho has a crush on you. Super big crush. Embarrassingly really how big.”

Pearl giggled as Bdubs shot her a smile and stepped away from the mic.

“Now. You two can continue to avoid each other, or kill each other, or whatever it is you two do. That much I don’t really care. But figure it out.”

She smirked in spite of herself. Then she bowed out of the way for Tango to step up.

“And Etho, before you find a loophole, you both respawn at the bed in the top of the dungeon, I’ve removed all your gear from the chests, and the doors won’t open until two different players step on two different pressure plates in front of it. I’m sure you can find a way to sneak out, but not before Gem finds you.”

“And if you want to have fun we’re turning the cameras off!” Bdubs jumped up to add as a final comment.

“Bdubs don’t you dare-" echoed from Etho through the speakers before Tango flicked the lever to kill the video and audio feeds.

“You think it will work?” He asked, turning to Pearl.

“Honestly? I don’t know.”

“What if they crawl out of the dungeon walls? Bdubs suddenly asked. “I mean some of the crypts are just ice. Etho could absolutely punch through that rather than talk about his feelings.”

“You think he’d rather punch through a wall with his bear hands than get laid?” Pearl couldn’t fathom wanting to avoid a conversation that badly. Especially when they already did the hard part for them.

Tango shrugged. “He’s Etho. He might try.”

Then Tango giggled, the little laugh multiplying until his shoulders were shaking and he was whipping tears away from his eyes.  

“You okay man?” Bdubs finally asked, looking to Pearl for an explanation she clearly didn’t have.

“If they get out they have to escape level 5!” Tango wheezed.

“There’s another level?” Pearl nearly sputtered out. If the fucking door in level four led to a secret extra level she was going to lose her mind.

“No the redstone!” Tango finally said, gesturing widely around him with a spin. “Even if they get out of eh dungeon they don’t have elytra. They’d have to walk out of the redstone spaghetti. And I’m laughing imagining Gem chasing Etho through it.” Tango finally explained giddy smile on his face.

“I’m going to ping the rest of the hermits that the dungeon is closed.” Pearl said, opening the door to the control room and leading everyone out into the hall.

“Another question Tango,” Bdubs said, eyeing the door. “Do you have a washing machine in the dungeon?”

“Downstairs. I do actually live here you know.” Tango rolled his eyes at Bdubs. “But why.”

“Just maybe wash the sheets in the bed before anyone else runs. Just…”

Pearl watched Tango’s expression warp from confusion to realization to horror to embarrassment. “Yes. Yup. On the list. Good idea.”

<PearlescentMoon> dungeon’s closed for maintenance

<Cubfab135> :(

<GoodTimeWithScar>TANGO! Go fix your dungeon!

<Tango> like pearl said. CLOSED FOR MAINTENANCE. DO NOT DISTURB.

<Etho> dungeon set to do not disturb mode

They all looked at Etho’s message at the same time as they stood on the bridge leading away from the Citadel.

“So do we think that’s a good thing?” Bdubs finally asked.

<GeminiTay> STRICTLY ENFORCED

Pearl raised an eyebrow at Gem's message.

“Maybe?”