#maybe my hair lightly falls on your face and you can smell my fruity shampoo | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

elizabeethan · 4 years

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Where The Love Light Gleams

Killian visits his brother and sister-in-law in Storybrooke, Maine for the holidays and runs into the woman who broke his heart three years ago.

Rated T for language

~9700 words

Read on Ao3

A/N: Merry almost Christmas! I was feeling a little angsty the other day and finally sat down to watch the Dust Storm, then had an idea for a CS AU. This isn’t based strictly on the film and a lot of it’s plot points are different, but it is somewhat similar! With a Christmas twist, of course.

With that being said, there are mentions and brief descriptions of alcohol consumption, abuse, and withdrawal in this fic (although not nearly as heavily used as in the film) so please be aware of that.

Also, the worlds largest snowman (and snowwoman), as described here, is a real thing!! It was built in 2008 in Maine, and fun fact, I was there! I think the record was recently broken in Austria, but whatever. Olympia will always be number one in my heart.

Finally, thank you to @donteattheappleshook for your beta services!!

Tagging: @courtorderedcake @kmomof4 @stahlop @klynn-stormz @laschatzi @emelizabeth88 @lfh1226-linda @kday426 @elisethewritingbeast @timeless-love-story @captain-emmajones @gingerpolyglot @ebcaver @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @tiganasummertree @gingerchangeling @jrob64 @onceratheart18 @xhookswenchx @winterbaby89 @swampmedusa @ultraluckycatnd @dancingnancyy @love-with-you-i-have-everything @shireness-says @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @ouatpost @daxx04 @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook

To say that Killian is miserable is a bit dramatic. Sure, he’s in this strange little town with only his brother to keep him entertained, but it’s a blessing to be spending the holidays with him and his new bride. Certainly better than being alone in Boston now that Liam has moved from England, he tries to remind himself. But the fact remains that he hasn’t been in much of a Christmas mood over the past few years, and he would almost rather be back at home getting some work done.

He isn’t a workaholic, honest. And he definitely isn't a scrooge, despite what his brother thinks. Really, he just hasn’t been in the mood to celebrate for a while.

Well, a few years, he supposes.

And it’s not because of a woman. No, it most definitely isn’t because of the fiery blonde who stole his heart and ran as far and as fast as she could once things started to feel real.

(She didn’t steal it; he gave it willingly.)

As the snow falls upon an overly-picturesque Main Street, Killian gets about as close as he possibly can to grumbling without any sound actually coming out. It’s freezing here— although not much colder than Boston— and if he has to spend any more time outdoors this weekend, he may very well lose a toe. It’s as he’s making his way down the slushy streets, avoiding the overly cheerful townsfolk and keeping his head down to avoid getting snow in his eyes, that he suddenly feels the warmth he’s been craving for three years.

It can’t possibly be true. The woman he’s just crashed into, the one with golden hair that smells like mint, fruity shampoo, couldn't possibly be her.

But when he looks up, he sees her.

The woman who ripped his heart out of his chest three years ago and ran off to Phoenix with it.

Bloody Hell.

“Oh my… god,” she says slowly, dumbfounded. “Killian?”

She looks stunning. Even more beautiful than he could ever imagine her becoming. Her hair is longer, a whiter shade of blonde under her gray beanie, her eyes perhaps an even more intense shade of emerald, cheeks just as round and rosy as ever, and he can tell even under the large puffer jacket that her body is even more perfect than he remembers.

This can’t actually be happening to him, can it?

He clears his throat, his hand drifting up to the spot behind his ear as he nods. “Hi.”

She laughs lightly and his entire world starts spinning at the sound he’s missed so dearly. She grounds him, though, the spinning coming to a halt when she springs on him and hugs him tight. “Oh my god,” she whispers against his neck.

He can’t stop himself from hugging her back, the scent of her shampoo back in his nose and conjuring up memories he didn’t even know he had. “Aye,” he chuckles against her hair, taking in another breath. “Long time.”

“How are you?” she asks as she pulls away, a bright smile on her face.

“I’m… fine, I guess,” he says, screwing up his face and making her laugh.

“I mean, what are you doing here in Maine? What the hell? What a coincidence that we’re both here!”

“Aye, it is. I’m visiting with my brother and sister-in-law for the holidays.”

“Liam?” He nods. “He moved here? He’s married?”

He nods once more. “He did. He and Elsa moved here after the wedding two years ago. My, uh…” he clears his throat. “My dad finally passed away, so nothing was holding him there.”

How he’s allowing himself to do this is beyond him. His willingness and ease in opening right back up to her without thought is maddening to him, but somehow so natural. Bloody hell, has he missed her. “I’m so sorry,” she consoles, lightly touching his shoulder. “Would you… would you want to grab a drink with me?”

“Yes,” he says, before he can even consider how stupid his answer is. But it’s snowing hard and it’s freezing and—

And the love of his life just crashed back into it. He sure as hell isn’t letting her go so easily this time around.

~~~~

He doesn’t tell her that he stopped drinking soon after she left. Doesn’t tell her how badly he reacted to her fleeing, turning to rum in hopes of numbing the gash in his chest that she left wide open. He doesn’t tell her that one of their favorite things to do together became the thing that almost killed him.

He ignores two phone calls from Liam.

When she takes him to the Rabbit Hole, a dive, but the only option in this horribly quaint town, she orders what used to be his favorite shot. It sends a pang of nostalgia so strongly through him that he can’t deny her anything, couldn’t possibly say no to a second when she asks. After he’s had three, his lips are so loose that he should probably staple them shut.

“So,” she says, leaning drunkenly towards him as he does the same to her. “Tell me about your life now. What else has changed?”

He laughs, as if anything since she left is the same, and holds up his left arm. “I got this,” he says, sloppily pointing towards the prosthetic.

Her mouth gapes open and she drops the glass to the table with a bit too much force as realization hits her. “Is that,” she starts, but it seems like she’s unable to get any words out.

“A fake,” he tells her, knocking it against the table. “Lost it in the Navy.”

“Oh, Killian…”

He feels nauseous at her pity because he knows exactly what she’s thinking. He always knows what she’s thinking.

“Not your fault,” he shrugs. He doesn’t have to elaborate because he knows that she knows that he joined the Navy full time because she left him. “You tell me something now,” he insists.

She clears her throat and shakes her head, glancing away from him and smiling as she thinks of the thing she wants to tell him. “I’m here because my brother is having a baby. Well, his wife is.”

“David?” he asks. Although she was adopted by David’s mother as a teenager, she still struggled to consider him a brother when the two of them were together, so to hear her label him as such was strange.

“Yes,” she giggles. “My only brother, David.”

“Ha ha,” he chortles sarcastically, bumping into her and laughing for real as he takes another sip from the drink she ordered from memory. “That’s lovely news.”

“Maybe you can come meet him once he’s born.”

“Maybe.”

“Now, what about good news?” she requests.

Good news, he thinks. Since you left?

“I don’t know,” he says with a sad shrug. “My brother got married.”

“Yes, I heard,” she laughs, always able to make any situation feel light despite how miserable he may be. “I meant for you, though. Tell me something good that’s happened to you.”

He laughs, but it comes out more like a scoff. How can he tell her that, since she left him, his life has been shit? How can he still be so hung up on this bloody woman? “I don’t know,” he says again.

She shifts, and he can tell that she understands his meaning. Liam texts him again and he locks his phone without reading it.

She laughs lightly to fill the silence between them, taking another sip from her drink before saying, “dance with me.”

It isn’t a request. It reminds him of how many times he asked her to do just that in the sleazy clubs in Boston, and how many times she was too insecure to say yes. But now here she is, asking him, and he wonders what else has changed about her.

He says yes.

They’re on the dance floor, almost completely alone, dancing to shitty old music because apparently good songs haven’t found their way to Maine yet. And she looks so wild and so free as she swings her hair from side to side, slides her back up to his front, and lifts her arms until they’re reaching behind her to the back of his head and she’s pulling him close. His mouth is so close to her ear that he could nibble on it easily— she likes that. But he doesn’t, because he knows she’ll run.

But then she’s spinning around to face him, dangerously close as she continues to swing her hips with her hands in his hair, and he leans down and kisses her.

He knows it’s a bad idea the second he does it. He’s a fool for doing this, but he hasn’t had a drink in almost two years and he isn’t thinking clearly. All he can think about is the fact that she just started kissing him back.

He’s heartbroken when she pulls away just as quickly, looking confused and torn and broken as she turns away from him. He tries to call after her that he’s sorry, he knows he fucked up, he shouldn’t have done that, but just like three years ago when she left him, she’s gone once more without a word.

As confused as he was when he ran into her, he’s far more confused now.

~~~~

When he wakes the next morning in the room he rented because Liam and Elsa were renovating their house, he’s feeling worse than he has in years. There were many reasons he quit drinking, and the hangovers were certainly one of them. The throbbing in his brain sends it slamming against the front of his skull with each move he makes, and the bright light streaming in through the blinds isn't helping. What he needs is an aspirin and a greasy breakfast sandwich, plus about a gallon of water, but he’s got to get out of bed to get any of those things, and he thinks he may be sick if he tries to stand.

He also needs to stop thinking about the fact that he saw Emma Swan last night. Maybe if he got any drunker he could’ve convinced himself that it was some sort of fever dream. Seeing her nearly killed him because he knows that he would take her back without a second thought despite how badly things ended the last time. The fact is, their relationship needed work, and instead of putting in the effort and communication necessary, Emma simply ran.

What he really, really needs is for his phone to stop ringing and that knocking to go the hell away.

“What?” He calls out, his voice groggy and thick from the dry air and his dehydration.

“Open the door,” she demands, and his heart begins racing at the sound of her voice. What the bloody hell is Emma doing here?

He tries really hard to stand up. He’s barely got his eyes open, the movements sending a rush of blood to his head with each step he takes, but he’s a damn fool and he can’t let an opportunity to speak with her pass him by. When he reaches the door, he leans his blunted, naked arm against the frame and rests his head against it as he opens the door.

She’s bright eyed and bushy tailed when he first opens it, but when she sees the state he’s in, her face falls immediately. She drops her arms to her side, coffee and to-go bags hitting against her thighs as she takes in his appearance. “Oh no,” she says. “You look like you could use some breakfast.”

He couldn’t stay away from her if he tried, truly. He can smell the bagel inside the bag already, and it’s making his mouth water. All he needs is some water and he’ll be as good as new, right?

He moves slightly out of her way so that she can brush past him, sliding gracefully into the room and placing her offerings on the small table by the bed, just beside the prosthetic he doesn’t remember removing and the half-empty bottle of rum he bought on his way back here. He should throw that away.

Once everything is settled, she takes her coffee and seats herself on his bed. Bloody hell. If the sheets smell like her tonight…

“How'd you know where my room was?”

She shrugs. “There's only three rooms here. I took a lucky guess and followed the stench of day-old rum.”

He tries to laugh but nearly falls to the ground, a wave of nausea pulsing through him once more.

“Oh,” she says, moving towards her large bag and pulling out a bottle of water to toss at him. He catches it one-handed, as he does everything, and opens it up effortlessly, gulping the entire bottle down almost instantly.

“Thank you, love,” he says, then wonders if he can still call her that. He still loves her.

“You look awful,” she remarks playfully, giving him a smirk.

“Thanks,” he grumbles. He moves across the room and takes a bagel out of the bag she brought, his stomach singing in anticipation as he takes the first bite.

“I’m only teasing,” she tells him with the soft smile he recognizes. The one he’s yearned for for years.

“Aye, I know when you're teasing. I’m just a bit hungover. It’s been a while since I’ve indulged that much.”

“Really?” she asks, turning towards him once he sits on the edge of the bed as far from her as possible. “How long?”

He clears his throat, buying time by taking another bite and practically groaning at the feeling of his body coming back to life. “Little over two years.”

She stills, her face falling, her shoulders sagging as she clearly and effortlessly puts together the timeline in her mind. “Oh.”

He says nothing in response, taking a hefty swig of his coffee made just the way he likes it.

“I’m sorry, Killian—,” she starts, but he raises his short arm to cut her off.

“No, I shouldn’t have said yes, it’s my own fault.”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” she says awkwardly.

“No, not like I shouldn't have said yes, just…” he sighs, dropping his head slightly in defeat. “I wanted to catch up, I just shouldn't have drank, that’s all.”

“You're almost three years sober and I pushed you to drink within fifteen minutes of seeing you,” she says, her tone filled with self-defeat and disappointment.

He attempts to laugh and lighten the mood by saying, “it’s not the first time you've driven me to the bottle, love,” but he can see how bad of an idea that was the minute the words leave his lips.

“I’m sorry,” she nearly whispers. “I should go. I shouldn't have come.” She’s standing, getting herself ready to leave because he’s driving her away again. It’s his fault, again.

“Emma, no,” he tries.

“No, I just… I came to apologize for running off last night. I should've stayed and talked to you and dealt with that, and I'm sorry that I didn’t. So I've said my piece, and now I should go.”

He’s thrown by her words, her statement of wanting to discuss the events that transpired, because that was always the last thing she wanted to do when they were together. All they really did was drink and fuck each other and argue, falling in love somehow despite never having a conversation of substance. Each time he tried, she distracted him with a drink or her body. And because of that, things ended the moment it became difficult between them. The moment he tried to make it real. “You want to… talk?” he asks, his shock clear in his voice.

She laughs, dejected, and responds, “is that so surprising?”

“Yes.”

She clears her throat awkwardly, wrapping her arms around her middle before moving back towards the bed to sit down again. “I just wanted to come here to say I’m sorry and that I shouldn't have run off. Or left you with the bill. That’s why I brought you breakfast, to try and make up for it.”

“You never want to talk.”

“I’m not the same person you knew three years ago.”

“Then what’s changed? Aside from the fact that you suddenly seem open to having a conversation with me?”

“Killian,” she sighs, running her fingers through her perfectly messy hair. “I didn't think I would be having this conversation with you in this ass-backwards town after not seeing you for three years.”

“Well, I didn't think I would be having any conversation with you, ever.” She sighs again, and he knows he’s being unfair. He probably can’t blame her for everything that went wrong.

“I get it, okay? I fucked up. I was fucked up. I still am fucked up. I fucked you up, obviously. I shouldn't have done most of the shit I did when we were together. But right now, I'm feeling nostalgic, and I've missed you terribly and seeing you yesterday… Well, I just missed you, okay?”

He huffs out a breath, taking another generous swig from the to-go cup then running his fingers through his hair. “You think I haven’t missed you just as terribly?”

“So can’t we just enjoy this time we have together? Come to town with me and we can go to that holiday festival they have going on. Something brought us together and I don't want to waste this opportunity to catch up with you.”

And that is how Emma Swan convinced Killian Jones to forget all of the heartbreak she put him through three years ago. Not by offering him a drink, not by using sex as a bargaining chip, but by talking to him. He isn’t sure if this is a horrible idea or a brilliant one.

His phone rings again, and he knows Liam will chastise him if he answers the call.

It isn't as if they talk about anything meaningful. Their conversations throughout most of the day are rather bland and lack any quintessence whatsoever, but that doesn't mean he enjoys her company any less. They were always good at this, the banter and the jokes and the lighthearted conversations. Her sarcasm is infectious, as is her laugh, and he does whatever he can to hear it ringing through his ears again and again.

The winter festival is lackluster, the small and sleepy town providing all that it can but not holding a candle to anything he’s seen in Boston. There’s supposed to be some snowman building event soon, followed by a tree lighting ceremony, but he doesn’t get his hopes up. It’s still snowing lightly somehow, and the flakes that settle on Emma’s lashes are begging to be kissed away, although he holds back. Emma said she missed him, but in what capacity, he isn't sure.

“What about your nephew?” he finally asks as they walk through the overly cheerful crowd watching a couple of children sledding.

“Not here yet,” she responds. “I’ve just been waiting and waiting. I’m glad I ran into you, otherwise I’d have to be sitting with the lovebirds all this time.”

“Ah,” he says with a falsely somber tone. “So I'm simply a means to an end?”

She knows he’s joking and looks up at him with a bright smile that could probably melt some of the snow surrounding them. “You caught me,” she laughs. “I’m using you for your company alone.”

“I am rather good company, I must admit. Who else would buy you a bloody four dollar hot chocolate?”

She laughs again, bumping his shoulder with her own, and says, “no one.”

“Precisely.”

When she starts shivering, he wraps an arm around her shoulder and pulls her close to him. She doesn’t flinch or pull away, only turning her body slightly so that she fits perfectly under his arm, then wrapping her own around his waist as they continue strolling.

The winter festival doesn’t offer them much by means of entertainment, but apparently, Storybrooke, Maine is breaking a record for the world’s largest snowman, around which the festival is built. Once they reach the center of the park, Emma enjoying her caramel corn and occasionally sharing with Killian, they’re able to watch as the townsfolk put the finishing touches on the stories-high structure. She laughs when the crane carries a giant truck tire to use as the coal eyes and mouth.

“Look at that!” she shouts, pointing at the two trees they plan to use as arms. The thing is at least 100 feet high, and it doesn’t seem like the 30 foot spruce will be big enough. She nearly collapses from laughter, apparently in utter disbelief that this is happening before her. It truly is magnificent to watch, the record-breaking snowman coming together before their very eyes. Apparently, the entire process has taken close to a month, and the festival celebrates the end of construction.

“Quite astonishing, aye?”

“Aye,” she laughs, resting her head on his shoulder as the people around them begin to applaud the final product. The thing is massive, and somewhat horrifying, but it was fun to be there to witness it’s completion. With her.

An announcement is made that the tree lighting ceremony will begin soon and Emma makes a comment about wanting to make this day as cheesy as they can by doing all of the small-town winter activities, so they head that way.

Again, Storybrooke has nothing on Boston in any capacity, but the small and homey feel of a town where everyone knows each other and welcomes the newcomers makes him feel quite at home. Though he isn't sure if it’s the town or the woman on his arm who seems more than comfortable to be there.

Everyone lets out an ooh and an aah as the lights are plugged in once the sun goes down, and Emma lets out a gentle, contented laugh, her smile beaming and blinding him. She glances to him quickly, her grin softening. He knows it must be because he’s unable to hide the look of wonderment on his face as he gazes at her. “It’s really something,” she says softly.

His smile grows and his eyes flutter, and he truly can't believe that he’s here again. He can’t believe that he’s letting himself fall so hard for this woman once more. But things feel so different. Better. When she turns so that she’s facing him completely, no longer paying any attention to the twenty-foot tree before them, he knows there isn't anything in the world that could stop him from falling back into the maelstrom that is loving Emma Swan.

She steps up onto her toes, her nose close to touching his, and threads her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. His own hand and prosthetic find purchase on her hips over her large puffy parka as he tilts his head forward until their foreheads are touching. “I’ve really missed you,” she says, her breath warming his lips as it escapes her mouth.

“Aye,” he whispers back. “Me too.”

“You’ve missed yourself?” she jests. He laughs, although he thinks she has no idea how true her words are.

“Perhaps.”

She doesn’t answer verbally, choosing instead to lean a bit further onto her toes and press her lips gently to his.

This kiss is unlike any they’ve ever shared. It’s unlike the last one because neither of their minds are altered by anything other than the presence of the other. It’s unlike all of the ones they shared during the year and a half they spent together, but he isn't sure why.

She deepens the kiss and he lets her, her tongue sliding against his as she tilts her head. Her lips are soft and sweet like the hot chocolate she was drinking. Her teeth nip lightly on his bottom lip and he sighs into her mouth. Despite the fact that he knows this could very well destroy him, he feels at home.

They kiss for several minutes, or perhaps it’s hours, before she pulls away from him and presses her forehead to his again, breathing heavily as her smile nearly touches his. To say he’s conflicted would be an understatement; every part of him wants to be with her in this moment, to forget the past and make things right with her. But the logical part, the part that his brother practically beat into him, tells him to run.

But when she says, “do you want to get out of here?” there isn't a single part of him that wants to say no.

“As it turns out, I have a lovely room that’s currently unoccupied.”

She hums as she laughs, rubbing her nose against his. “Isn’t that convenient?”

They walk hand in hand to the inn, Emma standing behind him and melting effortlessly against his back as she wraps her arms around his middle. When they get inside, she walks to the small bedside table, picking up the half-empty bottle of rum, and he thinks the worst.

It’s as if she hasn't heard a word he’s said all day. He quite literally quit drinking because of her, and if she offers him rum right now, he knows it will have to be over between them. He knows he would have to leave her now for his own good.

He thinks of Liam's words telling him how bad they were together. How the fact that they never communicated was completely unhealthy, how their excessive alcohol consumption prevented them from having an adult relationship, how their reliance on physical expression made it impossible for them to have any sort of meaningful conversation. He thinks about how close he came to death because of how excessively he drank when she left him. He thinks these things and nearly says them. “Emma, I can’t.”

But she interrupts. “I was just gonna throw this out. We don’t need it if you're sober, right? Is that okay? I don’t want to overstep.”

He feels his shoulders sagging and drops his head back with a smile, relief washing over him. “Yes,” he finally breathes out. “Yes, please get rid of that.” His heart rate starts to go back to normal almost immediately.

She smiles at him as she carries it to the adjoined bathroom, popping open the cork and ceremoniously pouring it into the toilet. She grins at him as she does so, and he smiles back, leaning on the jamb of the door and crossing his arms as he watches. She places the now empty bottle on the counter and turns to him, wiping her hands together three times as if to indicate that all is said and done. “There,” she says.

“Thank you,” he tells her softly, still leaning against the doorframe. She steps towards him, getting close enough to where he can smell the mint of the candy cane she ate earlier, and wraps her arms around him.

“I’m sorry about last night.”

“You don’t need to apologize again, Swan. It was my decision.”

“Would you have bought that bottle if I hadn’t asked you to get drinks? Would you have ordered shots if I hadn’t ordered them for you?”

He wants to lift his hand and scratch behind his ear, but she knows that’s his tell, so he wraps his arms around her in a hug and she lets him. “Probably not,” he murmurs sadly.

“Then I apologize.”

“You didn’t know.”

She giggles against his chest, the air puffing from her nose stirring the hair she leans against. “You could’ve told me.”

He shrugs. She sighs against him, squeezing once more before letting go and moving towards the bed to take a seat, patting a spot beside her.

“We never could talk about things that mattered, could we?” he asks boldly.

Her laugh is sad as she hugs her legs up to her chest, and he thinks she’s probably wishing she had a drink right about now. He wonders if she’s holding onto her legs to stop herself from running. “We weren’t all bad.”

“No,” he agrees. “But we weren’t all good either. What we had, Emma, it wasn’t healthy. I see that now.”

“Then why would you want to see me? Why would you say yes when I asked you to get a drink?” Her tone isn’t necessarily accusatory, per se, but he can see that she’s hurt by him saying that they weren’t right for each other.

“I don’t know,” he answers with a dejected tone.

Emma scoffs, shaking her head as she stands from the bed enthusiastically enough to send Killian bouncing. “So it was a bad relationship because I never communicated, but I ask you one question and you don’t have an answer.”

“Don’t do that,” he starts, though he isn’t sure where he’s going.

“Do what?! Try to actually have a conversation with you? Killian, you told me that you wanted to work on things because we never communicated.You told me you were serious about us, and instead of putting in the work, I left. I’m sorry for that. But now I’m here and I’m trying and you just don’t see that!”

“I do see that!” It’s true. It may not have been long since he ran into her, but he can see the changes in her from a mile away.

“Then talk to me! There’s a reason you said yes to drinks with me even though you’re sober, just tell me what it is. Why would you do that if you knew you would be hurting yourself?”

“I didn’t want to lose the chance to see you!”

“That’s ridiculous,” she chastises, rolling her eyes, and he stands now too.

“It’s because I never got over you. I saw you randomly in the streets after you basically destroyed me and I knew instantly that if I had the chance to be with you again I would take it.” Her face has fallen and she looks so sad and lost that it pains him. “When I saw you last night, I knew I never stopped loving you, no matter how fucked up we were. If I’d said no, I’d never have forgiven myself.”

She’s frozen. He is too. “You love me?” she asks.

“Aye.”

She’s crying. He is too. She wipes at a tear trailing down her cheek and sniffles hard. “After all this time?”

“I didn’t realize how bad we were while I was in it. After you left me, I basically got my ass handed to me by my brother and he helped me to see how toxic we were.”

“Toxic,” she repeats.

“Yes, Emma. All we did was drink and fuck and argue. We never talked. Not about the stuff that mattered.”

“I tried,” she says. “I really did try for you, Killian. You were always just so… so connected and you were always saying these profound things to me and about me, and I couldn’t handle it.”

“Why didn’t you just say that, then?”

“I didn’t know how!”

“So instead you left? Just up and leave one morning without a word? One fight and we were done?”

“There was a lot more than one fight.”

“None of the others mattered. They were over stupid, meaningless shit. The one time I tried to get you to work on us you ran off to Phoenix.”

“That was a bad move,” she admits.

“Then why did you do it?! Why would you do that to me?”

She chokes out a soft sob, dropping onto the bed and letting her face fall into her hands. He feels regretful for making her so upset, but he must admit that there’s a certain catharsis in letting this out three years later.

“I didn’t know how to handle how much I loved you. No one has ever talked to me like that, not before or since. And I thought, if my own parents couldn’t love me enough to even keep me, then you couldn’t possibly either. So a part of me never really believed you. Every time you would say that you loved me, I could tell myself you didn’t mean it.” She sniffles again, blowing her nose into a tissue before continuing. He takes the opportunity to sit beside her once more. “Then that night, you were so honest. You just kept saying how badly you wanted a future with me and how desperately you wanted to make things work between us. And I thought I had done a good job of keeping you at arm's length so that that wouldn’t happen, but I guess I didn’t. And I couldn’t believe I had done that to you. I thought you couldn’t possibly have had a happy future with me.”

“Emma,” he says, hoping to argue with her but desperately unsure of what to say. “How can you say that?”

She shakes her head, still crying although he’s managed to stop his own tears. “I tried, Killian, really. I tried so hard to let you love me the way you wanted to, but I just thought you deserved so much better.”

“You deserve to be loved, Emma.”

She sighs, hugging herself around the waist. “It’s been really hard for me to see that,” she says softly, almost weakly.

“I love you,” he says. “Every part of you. I know it’s hard for you to accept, but it’s true. I only wanted to help you see that.”

“All I did was push you away,” she chokes.

“Aye, that made things rather difficult for me,” he laughs. “And I’ll admit that I ran out of patience and had to insist that we open up to each other. And I’m sorry that you weren’t ready then, but I don’t regret it. I regret losing you, every day, but I don’t regret saying what I did.”

She looks up at him through long, tear-filled lashes and barely smiles. “I know.”

They sit in a soft silence for a moment, the remnants of what was exchanged between them comfortably heavy in the air. Finally she turns to him, still holding a scrunched up tissue covered in her black makeup, and says, “can I tell you about Phoenix?”

He scratches behind his ear, unsure if he wants to hear about the things she got up to after leaving him behind, but says, “sure, Swan.”

Her breath catches in her throat and she smiles at him. “No one has called me that in three years.” He chuckles back at her, smiling and unsure of what to say. He likes this, him sitting here beside her while she talks to him. It’s different, and exactly what he needed all those years ago. “It was miserable. I was so unhappy, I don’t even know why I went. I got a shitty job as a waitress, I barely made enough to support myself, and I missed you so much it hurt.”

“I missed you too.”

She takes his hand and continues on. “Eventually I met this asshole who I thought was good for me, but I kept comparing him to you and I couldn’t get over it. A couple weeks ago he did something really stupid, stole some watches, and I got the hell out of there.”

“So where have you been for the last few weeks?”

“Here,” she shrugs. “Waiting for the baby, using that as an excuse to avoid my problems.”

He chuckles, unfortunately understanding what she means. “Well, I’m sorry things didn’t work out for you there. Never did get that job as a cop you wanted, did you?”

“No,” she hums sadly. “I guess there’s still time.”

“Aye.”

“Can you tell me about Boston? While I was gone?”

“Ah,” he starts, scratching behind his ear and earning a smile from her. “Wasn’t all that great. I started drinking more after you left. I joined the navy full time, then dad finally died, and even though I hated the bastard, I started drinking even more. Then I got to the point where I had to have something in me to even make it to work, and one day I crushed my hand so badly they couldn’t save it. Basically went through withdrawal while I was in the hospital. Liam moved here with Elsa, I got discharged, and then rest is history.”

She’s silent for a moment, taking in a deep breath before she says, “Christ.”

“Aye.”

“I guess neither of us really got our shit together, huh?”

He laughs again. “At one point I thought I had, but then I ran into this woman in the street and suddenly things just started going mad again.”

“Hmm,” she hums lightly, scooting over towards him on the bed. “What a bitch.”

He shrugs. “She’s not so bad now that I’ve had a chance to talk to her.”

“Ha ha,” she fakes. But before she can say anything more to him, she’s perching herself close to him and taking his left arm in her hands, gently stroking up and down the remaining flesh under his shirt. “Are you okay?”

He knows she’s referring to the hand he lost, probably to all the other things he went through as well. He nods, taking the opportunity to lean towards her and meet her forehead with his. “It was a while ago. Over two years now. I’m alright.”

“I’m sorry that it happened to you. And that you lost your dad.”

“Thank you.”

Before he knows what hit him, she’s kissing him. She presses one soft kiss to his mouth and pulls back, as if asking permission to go on, as if he could ever resist her. He’s kissing her back, placing a hand on her hips once she gets into his lap and running his arm up and down along her spine, wishing he could feel her against his fingertips again.

They remain in that position, her hips atop his and her fingers in his hair, for more time than he can keep track of. It doesn’t go any further, they simply enjoy each other as they get to know one another’s mouths again. If he thought he missed her before, he was a fool.

Once they break apart, he moves his arms so his hand slides up into her hair, pulling her into a tight hug and pressing their chests together until he can breathe again. They’re silent for another few minutes as they hold each other, trying to catch their breath. Her nose is pressed into his neck and he can feel the warmth of her breath against his skin. His nose is tucked into her hair and he can smell her familiar shampoo, fruit and mint mixed together.

“I’m tired,” she finally says. “I know it’s not that late, but can we go to bed?”

“I have rather missed sleeping beside you.”

“I haven’t really slept in three years.”

“Well,” he starts, moving to remove his shoes and grab his pajamas from his suitcase. “Lie down, Swan, and we’ll make sure you sleep soundly tonight. Do you want to borrow a t-shirt?”

“Yes please,” she smiles. “Did you bring face wash?”

“Of course, it’s in the bathroom.”

As they get ready for bed together, easily slipping back into the routine, he tries not to stare at her ass in his t-shirt, covered only by her cotton underwear. Once they’ve slid into bed, she slots herself up against him, one leg hitching over his hips as her arm hugs around his waist. He isn’t sure about her, but he sleeps like a rock for the first time in ages.

~~~~

When he wakes to her still clinging to him, he grins. At first, he can’t believe that she’s still here, but when he remembers their conversation, it makes sense. As much as he wants to tell himself that she could still take his heart again and run with it, he doesn’t believe it.

He detangles himself from her grasp, careful not to wake her, and stands to stretch. Once he gets out of the shower, he changes into a shirt and jeans and leaves her a note, telling her that he has to check in with Liam and asking her to meet him at the diner after.

When he finally gets to Liam's house, his brother exits his front door in a rage, marching down the front steps and grabbing him by the collar of his jacket. “Where the bloody hell have you been?”

“Good morning to you, too, brother,” Killian jests lightly, removing his hand from his coat. “I came to apologize.”

He scoffs. “You haven’t answered a single call or text, you don’t show up for the festival like we planned, what were you thinking?”

“I was busy.”

“And you could have told me you wouldn’t be home for dinner. Elsa made extra just for you!”

“I’m sorry.”

“Wait… did you say you were busy?”

Killian smirks, stepping aside from Liam towards the house to let himself in. “Aye.”

“Tell me it’s not her, little brother.”

“Younger.”

“Killian.”

“You mean you knew she was here?” he asks as he turns from the door, releasing the handle before he can get inside.

Liam sighs and moves Killian out of his way so that he can slip inside first. “Yes, I thought it may have been her when she arrived. As you know, she never wanted to meet me, so it was hard to determine from the pictures alone. But I remembered you saying she had a brother, and I knew David’s sister was in town.”

“Bloody hell,” he says as he follows his brother into the kitchen. He’s offered a coffee but he refuses. “Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

“Because, brother, think of who you were when you were with her. I didn’t want you going back to that place.”

“That’s not your concern.”

“You nearly died when she left you! How is that not my concern?”

Killian sighs, taking a seat on the stool at the countertop. He knows his brother is right, and that they still have more that they need to address, but he feels good about their conversation last night. He especially feels good about the fact that it was Emma who initiated it. “We’re both in a better place,” he starts.

“Well, you’re down one hand. What has she lost?”

“Liam,” he warns. “My reaction to her leaving is not her fault. I was the foolish one.”

“And I’m sure she agrees that it’s all your fault?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but we’ve had a conversation about this already.”

Liam laughs condescendingly and says, “really? Emma Swan had a conversation with you.”

“She initiated it.”

He’s quiet. A quiet Liam is almost never good… it means he’s thinking.

“I know you love her,” he starts. “But watching you the last time… well, it nearly ended me to see you go through that.”

“I know, brother.”

“I don't want to see you go through that again.”

“I don’t want to go through it again.”

They speak a bit more, mostly Liam talking at Killian about how concerned he is.But finding out that Emma was the one to reach out and take the first steps must have been encouraging to him. It was to Killian.

Almost an hour later, Killian finally leaves, just before he’d asked Emma to meet him at the diner, and makes his way down Main Street. It’s finally stopped snowing, and now that it’s Sunday morning and the fame-garnering festivities have ended, the town seems a bit quieter. He takes the gentle calm as a good sign. If nothing else, it’s finally showing him that perhaps this sleepy village isn’t as bad as he’d once thought.

He sees Emma sitting at the counter when he arrives, happy to see that she’s taken him up on his offer. But when he begins to walk over to her, something is off. The man seated beside her is sitting a bit too close, and he doesn't just think that because he’s fallen back into his tendency to be protective of her. When he takes hold of her arm forcefully and she tries to back away, Killian rushes towards her.

“Neal, I said stop! Get off me!”

He thinks of nothing but getting to her, grabbing the man by the shoulder and throwing him off the stool he’d occupied. She shouts when he does so, and he rushes to her to take her cheek in his hand and brush his prosthetic over her tousled hair. “Are you alright?” he asks, brushing a tear from her cheek.

“I’m fine,” she says shakily, letting out a breath in a sob. “I’m okay.”

He can only console her for so long before the man, Neal, grabs him by his own shoulder and yanks him away from Emma. He swings towards Killian and strikes his cheek, so he shoves his shoulder into the man’s gut until he falls and collides his own fist to his jaw.

He hears Emma shout his name, but whatever happens next is a blur to him. He doesn't stay on top of the man who attacked her, rising quickly to get away from him and standing in front of her in hopes of protecting her.

He forgets that her brother is the damn sheriff. It’s a small town, of course someone calls.

When he arrives, Emma tells him what's happened, blaming it on Neal and explaining that Killian was protecting her. David takes a statement from the both of them, then arrests Neal, leaving Killian with only a threatening look that he assumes means watch yourself around my sister. It’s not unlike the looks he gave him almost five years ago when he and Emma first began their relationship.

After all is said and done, Emma gets him ice from the kitchen and tenderly places it on his throbbing cheek. She apologizes relentlessly for getting him involved, as if he wouldn’t choose to do the same thing again and again. “It’s fine, love,” he tells her. “I’m alright.”

“This is all my fault.”

“No, Swan,” he insists, placing his hand on her cheek and brushing some hair behind her ear. “Don’t say that.”

She leans into his hand, soothed by his touch, and says, “let me bring you to your room. You don’t want to be out here with everyone watching.”

He finally gets his bearings back on his way up the stairs, the stars behind his eyes fading away and the feeling of her hand in his grounding him. She takes the keys from his pocket, struggling slightly to open the door with her shaky hands, so he rests his chin on her shoulder and pressed a soft kiss to her check and neck.

Once they’re inside, she pulls him to the bed and sits him down beside her. “That was my ex,” she tells him, pressing the glove filled with ice back against his cheek. He flinches away from the cold against his flaming skin and she apologizes once more. “He found me, I don’t know how. But he’s mad that I left him while he was fencing the watches he stole. He was scared I was gonna turn him in.”

“Well, he did a nice job of getting himself arrested, then.”

She chuckles, leaning close to him and pressing a soft kiss to the uninjured cheek. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay.”

“Thank you. For just… I mean, we were in a public place and I know nothing could've happened, but… I don’t know. As messed up as it sounds, it felt good knowing you were there for me.”

“‘Course I am. Always.”

She runs her long fingers through his hair lightly, soothingly, and he leans his head against her hand.

“There’s something I have to tell you.” He opens his eyes to look at her once again, urging her to go on. “I’m in therapy.”

He smiles brightly at her and she returns it. “Are you?” It explains enough, her willingness to be open with him especially.

“Yeah. I started about a year after we… after I left you. It’s been going really well.”

“That’s wonderful, darling.”

“Yeah. And, uh, it’s made me realize some things. Like… like how you’re right, I pushed you away because I didn’t think I was worthy of love. And how being abandoned affected, like, every aspect of my life. But mostly my ability to… be vulnerable with the people I love.”

He nods his head, leaning back so that he can sit against the headboard. It’s only around 10, but he’s exhausted. “That makes sense, Swan. I’m glad it’s working out for you.”

“My point is,” she continues as if she didn’t hear him, likely because she desperately wants to get her point across. “My point is that… you’re one of those people. Just like you said everything changed when you saw me, it was the same for me. The second I saw you I knew that I— that I never stopped...”

She’s practically spitting the words out, but it’s so much more than she was willing to do three years ago. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I love you. I always have, I think I always will. And you were right. We weren’t good for each other back then because I was horribly closed off and you deserved someone who would open up to you. But I’ve worked on myself and now, well, now I want to work on us, if you still want that.” He grins at her admission and leans forward to press a kiss to her lips. “And one other thing.”

He backs away just slightly so that she can speak, but isn’t willing to go far. “What’s that?” he whispers.

“I have an interview after Christmas for a position on a police force. I’d just be beat cop but… I’m gonna go for it.”

He laughs and backs away some more because it’s all he can do. He’s happy for her, of course. She’s following her dreams. But he’s also heartbroken to hear that she plans to plant roots in Phoenix.

“That’s fantastic news, love. I’m glad to hear you’ll be following the path you set for yourself.”

“Yeah,” she says. “But you missed the best part.”

“What’s that?”

“The job is in Quincy.”

He’s frozen. “Quincy? That’s—”

“Like, 20 minutes outside of Boston.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I checked a map myself.”

He breaks out of his stupor to laugh, suddenly appreciative of her ability to make light of their situation now that she’s shown her willingness to be open with him. He’s in awe of the steps she says she’s taking. Of course there’s still more to discuss, but her admission has given him something he hasn't had in quite some time: hope.

“I know we haven’t talked about this,” she says in almost a whisper. “But I haven't been happy in Phoenix. I was hoping to move back to Boston soon anyway. And then when I ran into you… Killian, I'm…” she inhales deeply, smiling at him softly before saying, “I want to try again. Really try.”

Every time he thought of her over the last three years, he felt broken and saddened, and yet he still had love for her. Whenever he thought about their relationship and how bad it really was, there was still always a part of him that would have taken her back. Each time he had these thoughts, he knew they were outrageous because he would have needed her to tell him that that’s what she wanted too, that she was willing to work with him to make their relationship something good.

He never dreamed he would actually hear those words from her mouth.

“You’re serious?” he asks, completely dumbfounded by her once more.

“Yeah, I mean… if that’s something you would want.”

Without a second thought, he says, “yes. Yes, Emma,” he laughs. “I always would have taken you back. I always would have and I always thought that would be a horrible idea because I didn't think it would work, but now you’re…”

“I want to make it work.”

He shakes his head in disbelief, standing and moving towards her so that he can scoop her into his arms and hug her so tightly that he lifts her from the mattress. Her laughter rings through his ears joyously, a sound of which he thinks he’ll never tire. “Bloody hell, woman,” he says against her neck. “You've really put me through the ringer this weekend.”

She giggles again, tucking her nose against his pulse and planting a kiss there. “We all need a little drama around the holidays.”

“You’ve certainly delivered.” He releases her a bit so he can look into her eyes, brushing some fallen hair from her face and planting a kiss to the tip of her nose. “You're really moving back to Boston?”

She nods. “The only thing keeping me in Phoenix was my therapist,” she tells him with a laugh. “I can get a new one of those.”

He breathes out in disbelief once more. “I’m very proud of you, you know. All this time I wanted you back but I never thought you would want to put in the work. Not just for us, but for yourself. I’m glad you started seeing someone, love. You deserve to love yourself the way I love you.”

With a smile that seems to never fade, she touches her fingers to his cheek, the one with the bruise forming, and nods her head. “I’m glad I ran into you this weekend. Pretty life-altering.”

“One might consider it a Christmas miracle.”

With a laugh, she takes his hand and says, “yeah. Now come on, I need breakfast.”

They spend the day together again, this time neither of them timid around the other and freely touching and kissing one another. He can’t get enough of her. He’s sure the patrons of the small diner are sick of them reaching across the table to hold hands throughout their entire meal. Well, Emma holds his prosthetic, but the concept is the same, and she doesn't seem to mind. They talk about Christmas and New Years and life when they go back to Boston. They talk about their schedules and when they'll have time to see one another. She tells him she plans to start looking for apartments as soon as she can. She’ll stay with her brother and help with the baby until she finds one.

She gets a call from the sheriff after they've finished their breakfast, more like lunch given the time, and is informed that her nephew is on his way. She tells him that she’s going to meet him at the hospital and asks if her boyfriend can come, too.

The baby is quite cute, as newborn babies go, but what’s cuter is the look on her face when she holds him for the first time.

Killian sits in the waiting room to call Liam while she sits with her brother and sister-in-law, and he asks him to come by for Christmas Eve dinner. He also tells him that he should bring Emma along, and he hopes that she’ll agree. When they were last together, she was too afraid to meet his family. But when he brings it up to her once she’s finished visiting, she happily agrees.

Emma gets along beautifully with Elsa, and Killian can see that Liam really does try to give her a chance. Christmas Eve is special not only because he gets to spend it with the people he loves, but also because Elsa surprises all of them by revealing her pregnancy. When Liam finds out he’s to be a father, he cries.

With a promise to return for Christmas morning, they head out and back to his room at the inn, Emma claiming that the only gift she wants for Christmas is to spend the morning with him.

“So,” he says once they’re seated in the lobby with a fire roaring before them. “I’m your boyfriend?”

She hums, as if considering this, and nonchalantly says, “I guess so,” as she takes his hand and pressed a kiss to his bruised knuckles.

They sleep with her back against his chest, her hips wiggling into his every so often driving him mad with desire. But there’s an unspoken agreement between them to wait before being physical with each other again. The last time, sex was something they used to distract themselves from the things that were going wrong in their relationship. This time around, he wants it to be something more. He wants it to be about them and how much they mean to each other.

He can tell that she’s sleeping as her breathing shallows, and he reaches his hand onto her hip to hold her a bit tighter. When he does, she takes his hand and pulls him over her so that every part of them is touching. It’s perfect.

~~~~

When he wakes on Christmas morning, he’s alone. She’s tossed the sheets away so that they were folded over on top of him, and when he reaches for her pillow, it’s gone cold.

A part of him panics. Could she really leave him again? The last time, he woke and she was gone, leaving only a note that said ‘I can’t, I’m so sorry’. This time, there’s no note, and he isn’t sure if that’s a good thing or not.

The difference now is that he isn’t as worried as he could be. Sure, she isn’t here, but he trusts her more now after just two days than he thinks he did for much of their relationship three years ago. So when he collapses back onto the bed, slightly worried, he finds himself also embraced by a sense of unexpected calm.

She’s opening the door just a few moments later, and he knows his face brightens by several shades once he sees her carrying a tray of drinks and pastries. A bear claw for her and a donut for him, plus a coffee and what he’s sure is a hot chocolate. “You wouldn’t believe how hard it was to convince Granny to sell these to me.”

He sits up in bed slightly, reaching his arm behind his head as he grins at her. “Happy Christmas, Swan.”

She places the tray on the table beside the bed and tosses her shoes off before climbing into bed and onto his lap, her legs straddling his. “Merry Christmas.”

“There are some things you just won’t be able to change, my love.”

“That’s alright,” she laughs, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his lips. “I like you the way you are.”

It’s enough, he thinks. It’s perfect.

#tw alcohol #Captain swan #captain swan fanfic #cs ff #captain swan AU #cs au #once upon a time #once upon a time fanfic #ouat ff #ouat au #dust storm au #angst #fluff #angst with a happy ending

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sonderthroughthestreets · 4 years

Note

122.

Hi!! Thank you to everyone to who sent me 122 @alwaysin-myhead @franboos (according to you 112 = 122 shshdjkjk ly) and anon!! 🥺💕

This one is kind of sad (yes I gave you all fluff it’s time for the sadness to hit skdjjd) but I promise it’s super soft 🥺🥺🥺 they love each other a lot!

122. “Just relax, I’ll wash your hair”

Dialogue Prompts!

Under the heavy covers of sorrow, chilled and frozen, Sander heard the voices muffle. They carried all the way up the stairs just outside his room and maybe it was easier if he pretended he couldn’t hear them, or if he just closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep. Maybe if he closed his eyes hard enough he could fall back asleep. But he heard them all the same.

“He’s been like this for a while now. More than normal. I’ve tried to help him get out, but the usual things haven’t worked,” he heard his mother say.

The voice that spoke next shook him to the core. The one that he loved so much.

“I see,” and Sander squeezed his eyes harder. He didn’t want him to see him like this. “Does he want company right now, though?”

Sander dug his face into the pillow. Any day, any other day, he’d be overcome with such bridled joy to see the face he’d memorized like the back of his hand, drew a million times and etched it into the paper, but today, today he couldn’t handle it. Didn’t have the energy.

“Probably not, but I’m pretty sure you’re the only one he can stand right now,” his mother told him.

“I don’t know, I texted him and left him a voice message, and he hasn’t checked either. Which is understandable, but...”

Sander felt like folding into himself now. He wanted to fold and fold like an origami paper, infinitely fold until he disappeared, until he just ceased to exist. It was a horrible thought that crossed his mind, but he wished he didn’t live in this world where he knew his mother and his father, his friends or classmates, where he didn’t know...

If he could take back all the moments with all the people in his life, the good and the bad, he wouldn’t feel like they were too much and he wouldn’t have to deal with it all. Because right now, it was all far too much to deal with. He was tired. Extremely tired. He just wanted to fold and lose himself in unconsciousness.

“You can always try, Robbe. He loves you so much,” his mother’s voice still came through the crack underneath his door.

Then, he heard a muffled breath as footsteps lightly treaded away and the knob creaked as it turned and the door slowly, finally, opened.

He felt him sit on the edge of the bed and the silence was strangely comforting to him. He could maybe go back to sleep like this. He could just drift into his unconsciousness and stay there for days, maybe forever. He could-

“Sander,” he heard him. “How are you feeling?”

He didn’t mean for this question to irritate him, he really didn’t. But it annoyed him because he could see just exactly how he was feeling. And if he had enough energy he’d tell him. He’d tell him he was tired and that he felt heavy. That his limbs felt a heaviness and his brain felt a fuzziness and all he wanted was to just lay there and not do anything.

“I mean that’s a stupid question,” he heard him laugh bitterly and nervously. “But I had to start with something.”

He felt him shift even closer to him and Sander all of a sudden felt very insecure. Because whether he wanted to admit it or not, he’d been in bed for about a month now and all he’d done is sleep and sleep and barely keep his eyes open as his mother fed him soup and bread, crumbs and stains littered across his bedsheets. He hadn’t gotten out for a shower or to change his clothes, either. He’d sweat through the night under the covers, from nightmares or dreams he couldn’t really remember, the residual body odour lingering in the air. He could smell it himself as he lay there for days. But he couldn’t have been bothered to move or do anything about it. He stayed still as he felt the weight of his hand on his shoulder.

“I love you. And I’m gonna love you whether you’re the wonderful, bright and fun, lighthearted and funny Sander I know or you’re the Sander that can’t get out of bed and needs time to let all this pass.”

Sander wasn’t questioning his love until now. Because all of a sudden it felt like he was being dramatic and maybe this was nothing and he was just tired and lazy and he didn’t deserve someone loving him when he’s like this. Maybe he didn’t deserve anything at all.

“That was my voice message by the way. I was just telling you that I loved you. And that we said we’d take this minute by minute and that hasn’t changed.”

Sander listened to him breathe for a few moments. Waited for him to leave him in solitude. But when he felt the weight on the bed lighten, the warmth of his hand gone, he wanted to call out for him, scream his name pained and broken, ‘don’t leave’. His mouth felt heavy too, his tongue stuck on his palate, his jaw unwilling to move. But he mustered up all the energy he could to speak his name, his voice raspy and deep and cracked from being unused.

“Robbe,” he said.

“I’m here,” he replied. “I’m not going anywhere, just closing the door,” he clarified as he quietly shut it. Then, he came to sit next to him again. “What do you want to do this minute?”

He wanted...

He just wanted Robbe.

And Robbe seemed to sense that.

And so it went like that, them going minute my minute.

In this minute, Sander would try to keep his eyes open. He saw Robbe dressed in his dark sweatshirt and jeans.

In this minute, Sander would try to sit up.

In this minute, Sander would try to turn and let his feet touch the cool ground, soothing him almost like a balm. Sometimes it takes him more than a minute.

“I could get some fresh clothes for you,” Robbe said. “You can just change into them if you don’t wanna take a shower.”

Sander slowly nodded, the knot in his throat hard to swallow. Even harder when he knew Robbe was looking at him with warm, patient eyes. He felt him take his hand and kiss it before getting up to open his closet and fish out a grey t-shirt and new sweatpants. Sander gripped the edge of the bed, looking to the side with his jaw clenching.

He couldn’t believe Robbe was the only person that could get him out of this. That he had to come over here and get him out of this. To think that he was forced to come and be some sort of caretaker when his own mother couldn’t even get him out of bed.

But when Robbe had come over with the clothes and his fingers gripped the hem of his shirt taking it off, he felt his limbs give in to it all. He collapsed under his comforting touch, the intimate way he removed his shirt, looping his arm out through one armhole and then the other. Sander weakly took hold of Robbe’s wrist when he went to grab the clean shirt.

“Think I want that shower,” he mumbled.

Robbe nodded, leaving the fabric.

“Do you think a bath would be better?”

“Maybe,” Sander shrugged.

So, he trudged over to the bathroom while Robbe searched for a towel and carried over his clothes for him. Sander let the water run and leaned against the counter, listening to Robbe walking around outside in his room. He wasn’t sure what he was doing exactly but his mind almost felt too numb to pay attention.

Once he was in the water, he still felt a sense of emptiness, like he still couldn’t feel the warmth of it. Not without Robbe. So, he called for him. And Robbe quickly came in, surveying the sight in front of him.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Sander said softly. “Just...stay with me for a bit.”

So, he did.

Sander let his fingers trail the water, slowly moving his index finger to and fro. Then he sighed a heavy sigh, pulling his legs up to his chest, his chin resting on his knees. The silence was both reassuring and upsetting. Because Sander didn’t have the energy to really talk but he didn’t want it to be like this.

“Talk to me, Robin,” he whispered.

Robbe just crossed his arms as he leaned on the counter now, letting out a chuckling breath.

“I don’t know what to say. I’m not as good as you with talking.”

But he’d left his post at the counter and made his way over to sit on the edge of the bathtub. He ran his fingers through his wet and matted hair, bleached ends but dark roots diverging out.

“Just relax,” Robbe whispered, his voice a caress. “I’ll wash your hair.”

And Sander let him. Let him get the shampoo bottle, the fruity scent tingling his nose, albeit a little harshly, and let him lather up his hair. Robbe was careful not to get the suds in his ear, but gravity wasn’t particularly interested in letting all the soap stay out. So, he took a bit of water and gently cleansed Sander’s ear. Then he grabbed the shower-head and let the water softly trickle onto his head, washing all the shampoo off.

Sander had never felt such relaxation, his soul feeling a satisfying solace as Robbe’s fingernails scraped his scalp. He was so concentrated in the task at hand, careful and attentive. It made Sander’s heart want to burst, his eyes on the verge of tears.

“I’m sorry,” he said, barely audible.

“For what?”

“For the fact that you have to come here and take care of me. For me just shutting myself away from everyone, including you. For me bothering you.”

Robbe looked at him like there were many things wrong with those sentences, his eyes glistening in the hazy natural light coming from the window. It tinted the whole bathroom blue, fitting for how Sander felt.

“I don’t have to do anything, Sander,” Robbe said, his voice echoing through the walls. He brushed his wetted hair from his eyes, the water dripping and sliding down his nose and his parted lips. “I’m here because I want to be. And because I love you,” his hand traced his cheeks, thumb brushing over the bone. Sander instantly leaned into his touch.

“I love you,” he whispered back. “So, much,” his voice trembled.

Robbe gained closer, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, to which Sander deepened breathing him in. Their lips let loose as their foreheads touched, eyes closed.

Sander was starting to feel something like himself again. He wasn’t all the way, but he was getting there, some semblance of rejuvenation. He was grateful to have Robbe help him and to take this minute by minute like he’d said, patient and non-judgmental.

But most of all he was grateful that he was here. Just like he said. That in this universe...

He was staying with him.

#snapspotter #brenna tag💓#I’m sorry sksjjdjd #but i just wanted to write something other than fluff for a bit bc I feel like I suck at fluff lol #hope you guys like it!!#dialogue prompts #Fran🤠#cíara💫

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insfiringyou · 4 years

Text

BTS - They use sex toys with their girlfriend (all members)

Contains Soft smut. Hard smut. Various sex toys and aids. Fluff. Rimming. Anal play. Jungkook’s birthday. Mentions of marriage.

Set at various points in each member’s relationship with their headcanon girlfriend, these scenarios contain a lot of essential plot elements, Easter eggs and minor spoilers for future fics.

You may also be interested in our scenarios where the members visit an adult toy store with their girlfriends (please note Jimin’s scenario here takes place with an ex girlfriend - Angel)

Find out more about our headcanon universe and original characters here

To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here: RM / Jin / Suga / J-Hope / Jimin / V / Jungkook

& Our full masterlist can be found here

Rated content below the cut

Jimin (& Ara)

Set around 9 months before Jimin’s military enlistment

“How did it go?” Jimin’s smile was obvious as she walked through the door, placing her set of house keys in the ceramic dish on the top of the cabinet in the hallway. She cast an eye on the wooden furniture a little unfavourably, thinking that she would have to repaint it to match the pastel wallpaper she had picked out to redecorate the apartment. Her thighs ached like mad, but she matched his grin as she slipped her handbag from her shoulder and wrapped her arms around her boyfriend.

“I messed up a few steps.” Her fingers splayed across his shoulder blades, holding him close with a blush. “I never was a natural dancer.”

“It gets easier.” He promised. “I messed up all the time when I just started out.”

She pulled away with a timid smile. “I doubt that’s true.”

“It is.” He laughed. “And you have a better voice than me. I bet they’ll want you as lead vocalist.”

“Maybe…” She pressed her cheek to his, admiring how soft his skin was against hers and the fragrant, fruity scent of shampoo from his sandy hair. “You smell nice.”

“I had a bath.”

“Lucky for some.” She smirked, pressing her lips to his skin. With the older members enlisting, he had never had so much free time. At least he was keeping on top of the housework, she thought to herself. They had moved in together the month before, shortly before her audition, and while there was still work to do on the decor, his apartment was beginning to feel more homely to her.

“You could have one too?” He suggested. The claw tub was a new addition to the bathroom and one which had been getting plenty of use since she had started dance practice, with her limbs often sore and achy when she came home in the evening. Jimin had been able to help with that too...there was a bubble bath he had recommended to ease her tired muscles and, she had to admit, it had worked wonders so far.

“Maybe…in a bit.” She shrugged. Having showered after practice, all she wanted for now was to get out of her tight exercise clothes and into her favourite pajamas. With a quick peck to the lips, she led the way into their shared bedroom, loosening the cord on her latex pants as he closed the door behind them.

“Do you have a name yet?” He asked as she slid her pants down her legs, feeling his mischievous eyes burning into her backside as she revealed her panties. Even in comfy shorts, she knew he found her sexy.

“Me or the group?” She turned with a grin.

“Both.”

She shrugged, moving onto the figure-hugging vest. “Not yet. We have some ideas…”

“Care to share?” The soft sound of settling bedsprings filled the room as he climbed casually onto the duvet, watching her unclasp the front fastening of her sports bra.

“It’s a secret.” She grinned, pulling the grey fabric away from her perky breasts and watching as his eyes roamed over her gentle curves. “I think Ara’s easy enough to remember though.” Moving her hands to the back of her head, she unfastened the band which held her hair up, allowing the dyed locks to fall over her shoulders. The ends were a little curled from the shower and brushed her collarbones.

“It’ll make things a lot easier...if you keep your name.” He agreed, slowly getting up from the bed to join her.

“Yeah.” She agreed, bridging the gap between them with a small smile. She pressed her lips gently to his. “I wanted to thank you…”

“For what?” Jimin asked, unable to stop himself from smiling at her sweet taste.

She sighed quietly. “I know you had something to do with getting me the audition.” His coy expression a moment later told her everything she needed to know and she hit his shoulder lightly with her fist, grinning.

He let out a cry of pain, mocking her, before he held her steady by the hips, looking her in the eye. “I thought you didn’t want to be an idol.” He teased.

She felt herself blush even harder, her cheeks stained pink. “I just want to sing...” She shrugged shyly. “It doesn’t matter where.”

Jimin touched his palm to her cheek, cupping her face. “I love you…”

She felt her chest flutter at the sight of him, his warm touch so tender after a hard, tiring day, and found herself pressing her lips against his once more, opening her mouth against his - wanting him to know how much she appreciated having him around - having his love. He moaned into her mouth as she flattened her body against his, feeling her bare breasts against his chest. A moment later, his lips were kissing them gently, sucking the little buds of her nipples as she moaned above him, moving her hands from his shoulders, to his hair, to his cheeks, unable to find a stable position to hold them in.

Feeling worked up, she eased him away from her breasts and edged him towards the edge of the bed, pushing him gently into the covers by the centre of his chest. With a grin, he let out a soft cry as he fell, bouncing his body a little dramatically on the pale-green duvet as her hands moved to his jeans.

“What are you doing?” He grinned, looking up at her as she unfastened the metal button above his zipper and began the process of freeing him from the confines of his clothes. He didn’t protest, instead aiding her by raising his hips when she moved onto his white shorts, and spreading his legs as she nestled between them on the covers. “Oh!” He let out a gasp as her lips closed around him, sinking down his length as her fingers probed further down, nails grazing his balls, moving lower still until they reached his thighs. He didn’t have time to think through what she was doing and intuitively lifted his hips as she pushed him back, his cock slipping from her mouth as she moved between his arse cheeks and began to lick around the tight pucker of his anus.

“Does that feel good?” She asked, allowing her saliva to pool around his opening before trailing her tongue along the skin. He could only nod, though she couldn’t see it and, taking his low moans as a good sign, continued to lick him gently.

“Oh, baby.” He cried, maneuvering himself to slide his arms from the loose material of his baggy shirt and lifting it over his head. She smirked at the change in motion, pulling back to observe his naked body as he lay spread-eagled on the bed. Her eyes darted to the only remaining item of clothing and she let out a small, breathy laugh.

“Do you want me to get your socks?” She offered.

He grinned in reply and she slid them from his feet, throwing them to the floor. Running his hands through his hair, he looked a little embarrassed. “Do you still have that vibrator I bought you?” He asked with a blush, his cheeks stained.

“It’s in my draw, why?”

He smiled. “It might feel good if you…”

He did not need to finish. She brushed past the bundle of socks and underwear in the bottom cabinet before finding what she was looking for. It was bubblegum pink, but she didn’t think that would matter. Turning it on with a soft hum, she returned to the bed and got herself comfy on the sheets, moving the little bullet along the pucker of skin she had moistened with her tongue. The sounds he made below her were enough to tell that the vibe had been a good call and she couldn’t help but wonder whether this was his first time trying this.

“Do you want me to put it inside?” She asked timidly, not knowing if it would feel good or not.

“It’s okay…” He whispered, protesting gently.

With a smile, she moved back in, giving him a tentative lick before rubbing the area gently, massaging him with the little toy as he whined in pleasure. She became lost in her motions, knowing she was pleasuring him in a way she had never done before, and almost forgot about his erection until he came, harshly, spilling himself on his toned stomach. Her tongue continued for a moment longer until it became obvious he was too sensitive from his orgasm and wanted her to stop.

Wiping her lips, she moved away slowly, almost unable to believe what she had just done. He looked at her in awe as she climbed from the bed, wiping her lips gently with the back of her hand.

“I hope you liked it.” She smiled, turning the device off and moving onto her panties which, in the moment, she had forgotten all about. “I’m going for a bath now.” She smirked, feeling his eyes on her as she left the room.

RM (& Ji-eun)

Set two days after the events of ‘RM’s girlfriend teases anal sex’

“Do you really have to go back?” The sheer black fabric skimmed her thighs, revealing the lacy panties underneath as she moved closer to the double bed where her boyfriend sat, propped up against the headboard, dressed in his boxers. The sight of her in the doorway made him stir, but the prospect of returning back to base the next day caused him to sigh.

“You know I do baby.” He shook his head, gesturing for her to move closer so he could admire her body in the new lingerie she had bought. The fleshy curves of her breasts arched over the delicate trim of the bodice and he wanted nothing more than to run his fingertips along them and watch her skin soften to his touch. The burgundy dress she had worn to the group dinner the previous evening was not her usual colour, but it had suited her immensely; the slit which ran along her thigh allowing him to caress her skin under the table. He had wanted her so badly last night, but she had fallen asleep upon their return to the shared apartment, the cocktails which had accompanied her plate of spaghetti causing her to pass out while he brushed his teeth in the en-suite.

Instead of moving towards him, she eyed the half full bottle of red she had opened two evenings before, shortly after he had returned home. He watched her reach for it and protested gently.

“It’s only 3pm…” Her hand snapped away and she looked at him seductively, a single eyebrow raised. “Come here…” He beckoned, pulling the bedsheet aside to allow her to straddle his lap as he pressed his mouth to hers. She opened her lips against him, running her hands along his bare shoulders, her fingernails gently skimming his skin. Pulling away, he admired her up close; the trails of dark hair which had slipped from her high, casual bun he tucked behind her ear as he kissed her again. He felt her moan against him as her fingers brushed his erection, softly at first, before holding his strained outline through the fabric of his underwear.

Moving one hand from his body, she reached over to the bedside table, her lips never leaving his as she blindly rummaged through the top draw. He was about to ask what she was searching for, but a moment later she broke the kiss with a smile.

“Do you want this on?” She asked, holding up a small, black object.

His mouth opened wordlessly as he looked at the cock ring, remembering how they had bought it together early on in their relationship. It had been part of a set, to be enjoyed by couples, but the fact it was so casually stored in the bedside table told him that it must have worked just as well for solo pleasure. The thought of her using this against her clit while he was away made him twitch against her crotch.

“Mmhmm.” He finally answered, savouring her touch as she silently grasped his waistband and slid his boxers down a couple of inches, enough to free his throbbing cock. He kissed her warm chest as she switched on the device, moving it down his member slowly; the sensation of being squeezed and constricted incredibly sexy as her hands followed, cupping and grasping him. Gently, he eased her bra underneath her nipples, watching more of her skin become visible and cupping her breasts from underneath, feeling their comforting weight in his palms. Her panties were damp against his thigh as she gently moved her hips, angling herself to allow contact with her clit, and he smoothed his fingers beneath the crotch, feeling the neat, straight trip of her pubic hair and the soft, wet skin below.

“Slip it in…” She whispered, pressing her lips to his forehead and resting on her knees to allow him to adjust position beneath her, holding himself straight as he nudged past the gusset of her panties, pressing inside her. She let out a cry as she settled against his lap, his cock filling her and the low, pulsating vibrations of the ring spreading through her lower lips. Gently, they began to rock together as she wrapped her arms tightly behind his neck, holding him close.

“Does it feel good?” He asked breathlessly.

“Yeah…” She moaned. “My clit feels amazing…”

“You feel amazing…” He replied, moving his hands to support the firm cushion of her backside as she shifted above him to rest her weight on the soles of her feet, angling more of her pussy against the soft hum of the vibrator as she began to move once more on his cock. He kept his hands against her bottom, encouraging her as she rode him.

“I’m so wet…” She gasped, feeling her eyes begin to roll back in her skull at the sensation spreading through her clit.

“Are you gonna cum for me?” He grunted, feeling his own orgasm from deep within his balls, the tight, delicious sensation of the ring combined with her slick warmth encouraging his climax.

“Yeah…” She moaned, her black hair clinging to her forehead which shone with perspiration. Her thighs and calves were beginning to ache from the position she was in and she didn’t think she could keep up her movement much longer.

“Cum around my cock…” He said between gritted teeth, watching as she gasped for breath above him, smoothing the damp strands away from her face as she whined.

“I’m cumming…” She finally cried out, fighting the cramp in her calf which threatened her balance as she kept up the rigorous pace. In reply he moaned, feeling her squeezing him down below, massaging the head of his cock while the vibe worked the base. “Fill me up…” She begged, tipping herself over the final edge as she reached her climax.

He followed moments after, clutching her forearms to hold her steady as he pumped himself into her, grinding his hips against her pubic bone as he came. Her breath was ragged and he switched off the device quickly, knowing she would be sensitive and needing to be held still for a few moments more before he finally pulled out of her, his aftermath messy on the sheets and her black panties.

They were quiet as they cleaned up. He changed the bedsheets as she showered, before stepping in himself as she left the room. She was already sleepy when he returned, despite it being early, and he stroked her bare calf lovingly as he joined her on top of the bedsheets. Cautiously, he opened his mouth to speak - to reassure her that he would be on vacation again before she knew it, but she turned away, curling her body against the duvet.

“I don’t want to think about it…” She murmured, as though anticipating what he was going to say.

“Okay.” He agreed and nestled himself against her body.

Jin (& Min-seo)

Set 3 months after the events of ‘Trouble in Paradise’

“You feel so good…” Jin cried out gently, running his hand along her hair as she worked him slowly, her lips wrapped lovingly around his cock. He was laid flat on the bed, eyes half-shut as he focussed on the pleasure she was giving him, her body nude and warm, curled at the bottom of the sheets.

Having been away from her for so long, he could never take moments like this for granted, and he could tell she was likewise getting so much from being able to have him again; to kiss and hold him whenever she liked without having to worry that he would eventually have to leave her.

Her pace was moderate, working him up slowly, and when she eventually pulled away and his eyes snapped open he couldn’t help but be thankful that she hadn’t tipped him over the edge; that he could love her more with his body. As she moved up, he cupped the bottom of her swollen breasts, running his thumbs gently over her hard nipples as she hovered above him.

“Is this okay?” He asked gently, keeping his touches light.

“Yeah…” She whispered, pressing herself into him, allowing him to be more kneady in his motions.

He complied, squeezing her breasts with the palm of his hands and enjoying the full sensation between his fingertips. “Not too hard?” He questioned cautiously.

“No...it’s fine.” She bent down to kiss him lips, her breath heavy and sweet, before moving away. He watched as she took his hands in hers and gently pulled them away from her chest, replacing them with her own as she held the edges of her breasts and moved back down the bed. He let out a surprised moan when she took his cock between them, sliding her breasts along the shaft. He watched from his awkward angle, his head propped up against two pillows, as the pink head of his cock disappeared between her fingers, cushioned in the valley she created between her full breasts. Beyond that, his eyes moved along her body; soft in all the right places; her skin radiant and beautiful.

“Min-seo…” He cried out, unable to help himself. He saw her smile tenderly, clearly enjoying the effect she was having on him as she continued pleasuring him with her breasts, only stopping once she began to ache. Slowly, she pulled away and sat up on the bedsheets, holding his hands as he joined her in an upright position.

The massage oil had been both of their ideas, though he had been to get it by himself, browsing the aisles of the small store a little timidly. He knew her body was starting to feel more sore than usual, and the candles seemed like a fun way to help her in the bedroom. He reached for the small jar and blew out the flame, allowing it to cool on the bed stand for a few minutes as they kissed sweetly.

“It smells like birthday…” She grinned as he pulled away, making his stomach flutter pleasantly as he poured a little of the hot substance onto the palm of his hands. Slowly, he reached for her shoulders and began to massage her skin, applying enough pressure to ease her stiff neck as he watched the liquid pool along her collarbones. She closed her eyes and he paused.

“It’s not too hot?” He asked, stopping his motions as a precaution.

“No…” She said reassuringly, her voice gentle as he once again began to ease the oil into her skin. He moved over her chest to her breasts, which he knew were feeling sensitive; more responsive to his touch. He took another handful of the oil, now much cooler, and slowly circled her flesh, running his wet fingers along the peaks of her nipples, pinching them slowly between his fingers as she moaned.

“That feels good…” She whined, her eyelashes brushing her cheeks as her mouth lulled open. “Keep doing it…” She asked, her voice breathy and high-pitched.

“They look so beautiful.” He whispered, circling her areolas with his fingertips before massaging the fleshier part of her bust in his palms, his soft moans of pleasure soon joining hers. Eventually, her moans began to quieten and he sensed she was becoming too sore. He took a final handful of the oil and moved further down, rubbing it over the curve of her stomach lovingly; his hand pausing in the centre for a few moments, before pulling away. She was watching him with a smile and, when he stopped, she kissed his mouth gently.

“Do you want me to try?” She asked with a timid, if slightly mischievous, grin. He nodded, letting out a breathy laugh as she reached over his body and took the candle in her hand, dipping in her fingers to collect the last of the lavender-scented liquid which had started to solidify at the bottom. She started at his shoulders, as he had done with her, and worked her fingers along his bare pectorals, making his tanned skin sheen in the soft glow of the bedside lamp. Their gaze met.

“Do I look like a bodybuilder?” He asked, face straight. A moment of silence passed between them before they let out a mutual cry of laughter and she toppled into him, snuggling her face against his wet, oily chest and dropping the now-solid candle onto the thick pile of duvet as she tried to calm down.

V (& Cassandra)

Set shortly after the events of Jin’s wedding, around a year and a half into their relationship

Cassandra’s cries were low and strained around his cock as he ran his palm along her fleshy backside, squeezing her flesh gently with a grunt, before dipping his fingers between her cheeks. Slowly, he dipped his fingertips in her cunt, pushing through the tight ring of her opening and moaning when he felt her mouth vibrate against him; her pleasure echoing through his body as he fingered her gently.

Her movements were slow to the point of being agonising, but he enjoyed how wet her mouth was; how her saliva dribbled from between her lips and down the shaft of his erection, collecting in his bush of pubic hair as her filled her. She had kept the position, her body tightly curled into itself and resting on her knees with her head in his lap, for the past half hour and her eyes had begun to stream a little; long lines of thick mascara running down her cheeks. Still, she was holding out; determined to keep him in her mouth until he stopped her, his fingers constantly playing with her pussy and the cold, metal plug in her arsehole, but keeping her from orgasm until she gave in and begged him for it.

He shifted his hand once more, moving to the edge of the plug which filled her up, feeling blindly along its edges until he had a tight enough hold on it to slip it out, centimeter at a time, hearing and feeling her moans beneath him, before pushing it back in slowly, stretching her. His lips parted in concentration as he repeated the motion, her heavy breathing becoming more and more pronounced as he stimulated her.

He felt himself slip out of her mouth, the cool air of the bedroom hitting his erection as she let out a full-bodied, cathartic groan, taking in a few gasps of refreshing air without the constriction of his cock in her throat. He stopped his motions against her, letting go of the plug to grasp the slippery base of his penis and move it against her parted lips.

“Keep sucking…”

J-Hope (& Nana)

Set shortly before Hoseok’s military enlistment, around six months into their relationship

“I’m starting to think this was a mistake…”

Hoseok’s was good-humoured but a little out of breath behind her, his fingers digging into her sides as his hips refused to slow and she sensed an edge of panic in his voice.

“Are you close?” She asked. It wasn’t that she was frustrated with him, but her body had started to ache and her last orgasm, the second of the evening, had left her feeling a little drained. The bedsheets were still a little damp below her forearms from where she had come, surprising them both.

“No…” He answered honestly, eyebrows furrowing into his forehead as he loosened his tight clutch on her bony hips, sensing she was getting a little bored with doggy. If limbs could speak, she thought, they would be thanking her, as he slipped from her opening, as rigid as ever, and she eased herself onto her back. The patchwork quilt was soft against her skin as she settled down, smoothing the damp lock of hair from Hoseok’s slick forehead as he nestled against her. He kissed her sweetly, his toothy smile pressing against her lips as he stood at the edge of the bed and wrapped her long legs around his waist. She felt him enter her, long and stiff against her inner walls, and knew he wasn’t lying when he said he was not yet close.

“I don’t think I can cum again…” She said a little weakly as he broke the kiss, voice full of apology.

He shook his head, forehead wrinkled, equally apologetic. “I don’t expect you to.”

He hadn’t needed the viagra; in fact, Nana thought, he could probably live to a hundred and still be able to get it up without needing an aid, but he had been curious, wanting to see if it would make the sensation even more pleasurable. Now, an hour later, he was beginning to panic.

“Do you want me on top?” She offered, watching his brow become increasingly sweaty beneath his red fringe.

“We can try…”

They once more switched positions, and she crouched over his body, feet flat against the bed and supporting her weight by clutching the headboard with both hands, hoping the bigger movements as she eased herself onto his cock would allow him to finish. He watched as she moaned above him, the head of his penis hitting her deep and causing her to scrunch her eyes shut, despite the fact her body was too exhausted to manage another orgasm. Her tightly wound curls bounced in all directions as she kept up the pace for another five minutes, enjoying the way his hands roamed along her ribcage and the outlines of her pronounced stomach muscles as she made love to him. Eventually, her hips began to slow and she opened her eyes.

“I don’t think I can keep going.” She muttered breathily, finally stopping. He was still hard inside her and she slipped him out. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be...I shouldn’t have done that.” He uttered sympathetically, seeing how tired she was.

She smirked, kneeling on the sheets as she tied her hair back with a band she kept on the bedside table. “No you shouldn’t.”

“Lesson learned.” He smiled a little worriedly.

She moved against his upright body, shifting into a more comfortable position. “Maybe if I suck you…”

He shook his head. “You’ve done enough.” Pressing his lips to her cheek, he sighed against her. “I love you so much Nana.”

“I love you too.”

They were silent for a moment, and she observed the way he kept his hand resting lightly on his shaft, fingertips skimming the rosy and flushed head. “Maybe you should masturbate.” She suggested, seeing the way his face relaxed; his body craving its release.

“Yeah, maybe…” He seemed cautious, as though worried she would be offended, but she smiled easily.

“Let me wash myself, and I’ll come and help you.”

“You don’t have to do that…” He looked at her seriously, feeling embarrassed for putting her through this. “Go take a shower…”

She pressed her lips once more to his soft cheek, happy to find his skin did not feel so clammy as it had minutes before. “Okay…” She agreed, getting off the bed slowly to ease the pain in her limbs and joints. She showered quickly, eager to make sure Hoseok was okay, and was happy to find he seemed almost there when she came back into the bedroom. His eyes snapped open at the sound of the bedroom door opening, and his eyes roamed over her naked form, his left hand frantically working himself at a rate she had never seen before.

With a relieved smile, she perched beside him, moving her hand over his to help him along.

“Nana…” He whined, meeting her eyes across the short space, his hand moving to palm the scant swell of her breast, her nipples hard against his skin.

“You’re nearly there…” She whispered soothingly, letting out a small whimper as he squeezed her skin gently, enjoying how sensitive her breasts felt in his hand as he moved to touch the other.

“I think I’m going to…” Before the words left his lips, she felt the warmth of his seed against her fingers, seeping across her skin from the tip of his cock, his ejaculation taking them both by surprise.

“Oh…” She let out a little gasp, but encouraged him to finish, stroking the flushed head gently as he continued to spurt. Eventually, his breathing slowed and he stopped his movements. Looking at his expression, she thought she had never seen him look so tired.

“Woo.” He let out a long, slow breath of air, making her grin. “That’s a relief...I thought we were going to have to call a doctor.”

Suga (& Jeong-sun)

Set around 8 months after they meet again following Yoongi’s discharge from the military

“Oh fuck!”

Jeong-sun’s thighs trembled beneath Yoongi’s hands as she continued to grid herself against his tongue, his mouth open and sucking at her desperately, taking her clitoris between his lips and encouraging her to move against him, wanting to tip her over the edge. She clutched at the metal bedframe with both hands, steadying her body as she felt a wave of heat wash over her, making her toes curl and body clench with pleasure. She felt him moan beneath her, his nose nudging at her clitoris as tongue entered her, savouring her taste on his tongue. She clung to the frame, knuckles turning white as she tried to keep her weight on her shaking knees, breath finally slowing as the waves began to ebb away through her body. Her cheeks felt warm and she closed her eyes for a moment, trying to get a grip over her body which she seemed to have lost all control over. She wasn’t sure how long she was still for, but when she opened her eyes again, she became suddenly aware that Yoongi was still beneath her, his face buried beneath her crotch and between her thighs.

“Sorry Yoongi…” She murmured breathily, sounding less apologetic than she truly felt in her exhausted state as she slowly moved away from his body, having ridden his face for the past ten minutes. He licked his lips lavisciously and she couldn’t help but laugh out loud, quickly handing him a tissue from the box on the bedside table to wipe his face. He slowly sat up, joining her against the pillows as her heart rate finally slowed.

“How was that?” He asked, straight-faced as he curled the tissue into a bundle and threw it across the room. She watched it hit the litter basket with a smirk.

“That shot or the orgasm?” She asked equally dryly.

He grinned gummily, revealing nothing and she couldn’t help but match it, feeling her chest grow warm. Slowly, her body aching and tired, she crawled onto his naked lap, straddling his body closely and stroking the back of his black hair.

“I read somewhere sex was supposed to get worse once you got married.” She quipped, meeting his soft gaze.

In reply, he scrunched his nose in mock-disgust, making a face which caused her to laugh out loud. “Where did you read that?”

She shrugged lightly, wrapping her arms loosely around his neck. “I think it was in a magazine at the dentist’s office.”

He laughed breathily. “What dentist do you go to?”

She grinned, pressing her lips to his forehead. “I’m guessing that means you have no complaints?”

“Ask me in ten years…” He mumbled, shifting his head from beneath her to capture her lips in a soft, sinking kiss. She felt her thighs tremble once more on either side of his body and he held her steady by the hips, his thumbs caressing her naked skin as his lips opened against hers, eventually moving one hand to brush through her thick black hair and rest at the back of her head. He kissed her for what felt like an eternity; she lost track of everything but the sweet, loving caresses of his mouth and the warm, fluttery sensation between her ribcage as he held her close. When he eventually pulled away, she felt as breathless as when she first climaxed, his lips moist and slightly parted.

They looked at each other for a while, not needing to say anything; the memory of the week before and what they had done, the lifelong promise they had made to each other, swam in the silence, making their cheeks glow and bodies ache for each other. Eventually, his gaze fell to her hand where he had been quietly stroking her fingers for the past few minutes, his thumb brushing along her fourth digit lovingly. She looked down, watching it trace over her knuckle.

“I don’t need a ring.” She murmured softly, wondering if he was mourning its absence.

He shook his head with a small smile. “I know you don’t.” He whispered, continuing the motion with his thumb and looking down once more. “I was thinking I might like to wear one.” He eventually said, meeting her eye once more.

Jeong-sun felt her stomach and chest grow warm and wondered if her face had turned red as she looked at him, having to bite the inside of her cheeks to stop herself from grinning, her entire body aching with her love for him in that moment. It didn’t take long for her to crack and she turned her face away from him, trying to cover the huge smile which spread over her lips. She heard him laugh softly, his face turned downward as he smiled shyly to himself, and, feeling bashful, she slid from his lap, shuffling position to sit between his parted thighs, her back nestling into his chest where he couldn’t see her face. His grin remained as he leaned against the pillows at the head of the bed, holding her body against his and placing the sole of one foot against the mattress, allowing her to rest her cheek comfortably against his upright knee.

“I love you.” He murmured against her neck, kissing the back of her shoulder tenderly as they got comfortable. She mumbled in agreement, making him laugh once more as he gently stroked her thigh. Calming down, he trailed his fingers to the soft skin on her stomach.

Silently, he felt her take his hand in hers and move it between her parted thighs, rubbing along her outer labia gently, soothingly. He followed her lead, stroking her folds, brushing the nub of her clitoris without question and, finally, dipping into her opening with two slick fingers. She let out a moan, throwing her head back to rest on his shoulder and his hand moved to cup her bare breast.

“Do you want another?” He purred against her ear, inhaling her familiar scent; sweet and milky. Her cunt contracted delightfully around his long, bony digits and, taking it as an answer, he pressed deeper inside, his palm hugging her clitoris as he held her body to him, using his other hand to splay across her midriff.

She reached behind her, between their bodies, to take hold of his flaccid cock. His orgasm had come shortly before the oral and she knew he wouldn’t be able to go again for another hour or two, but he felt comfortable in her hand and he seemed to appreciate the gesture. He trailed his fingers from her opening to her clitoris and circled the bud gently, enjoying the way she moved her hips against him to gain extra contact as he teased her.

“Are you going to make me cum or what?” She moaned breathlessly, angling her body into his touch. She could sense his grin behind her, though she couldn’t see in her current position, and a moment later, she heard him rummaging through the bedside cabinet, the one on her side of the bed, and gasped when she felt the cold metal surface of her sex bullet against her clitoris. With the flick of his finger, it hummed to life and she groaned at the contact, feeling him trail it delicately along her swollen nub.

“How did you know?” She asked, knowing that while she did not deliberately hide things from him, she had never explicitly shown him the sex toy before. Nor did she think he would go snooping in her cabinet without her permission.

“I didn’t…” He let out a breathy laugh behind her, filling her with butterflies. “Just a guess…”

Jungkook (& Young-soon)

Set around four months after Jungkook and Young-soon rekindle their love at Jin’s wedding

“I love how sensitive your nipples are…” Young-soon murmured, tugging gently on the chain which connected to the metal clamps on his flesh. Jungkook’s brow furrowed, eyes temporarily snapping shut at the sensation. While he had been shy to first try them, he could not deny how good they felt now they were attached. He had blushed furiously when Young-soon suggested they buy them in the store, claiming they were for her, but now he realised her plan all along.

“Do you want me to pull a little harder?” She asked, an eyebrow raised as she regarded his expression.

“Yes…” He moaned, not realise he was going to speak until the words left his mouth. Moments later, he felt the tug of the chain; the pleasure of the sensation counteracting any underlying pain he might have otherwise felt. He knew his girlfriend was doing this for his pleasure rather than her own, and he felt safe in the knowledge that she would never take things too far.

Eyes still tightly closed in anticipation of the next tug, he was surprised when he the release of the clips; the cold, sharp sensation being replaced with the soft, warm caress of a tongue as Young-soon took his nipples into her mouth one at a time. He let out a loud moan, clutching her head to his body, loving her so much for knowing exactly what he wanted; the soothing motion of her lips causing as much pleasure as the clamps had done moments before.

“Young-soon…” He gasped, opening his eyes to guide her to his mouth. They kissed passionately and he ran his hands along her cheeks, opening his lips against hers. Eventually, she pulled away, the teasing look in her eye still apparent.

“Did you want to try the pocket pussy now?” She asked.

He sighed breathily as she edged away from the bed and towards the carrier bag which was hooked over the back of the chair in the corner of the room.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” He asked, despite knowing it had been her suggestion that they buy it. She had seen the nervous glance he had taken at the object on the shelf in the store, the crude, silicone rendition of a famous American porn star’s vagina on the cover. It was enough to tell her that he was curious about the sex toy, and she had thrown it in their shopping basket without question.

She shrugged, reaching into the bag and pulling out the box. He watched her remove the cardboard, his cock rock hard, as she slipped the cylinder from its case. “I wouldn’t have bought it for you if I minded.” She removed the cap and reached for the bottle of chocolate flavoured lubricant on the dresser, silently pouring it between the lips of the fake vagina.

Jungkook was stunned into silence as she edged closer to the bed, clutching the object in her hand and climbing beside him.

“And it’s your birthday.” She smiled, pressing her lips gently to his forehead as she slipped his cock into the tube, lowering it until he disappeared completely. His eyes scrunched closed once more and his lips parted in an almost-silent moan. “How does that feel?” She whispered against his skin, fucking him slowly with the object.

“A-amazing…” He uttered breathily, forcing his lids open to look at her, his wide eyes dark and beautiful. “But not as good as you…” He finished.

***

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redfoxwritesstuff · 5 years

Text

Clover and Lace- Chapter 5

Things get a bit hot and heavy toward the end. No other warnings. Please do let me know what you think. Prior chapters can be found on my masterlist by doing a quick search for ‘kit’s masterlist’

Chapter 5

“I had no idea we even had a movie theater.” Rosemary whispered as she leaned against Steve’s arm. They’d walked to the movie theater from her apartment and she was honestly very annoyed she had never noticed it in the past. Long ago had she stopped paying attention to what was around her in each little town she called home for a short time.

“You live here.” Steve laughed, looking down at the woman who’s arm he had wrapped around his. It felt right to have her on his arm. He tried to tell himself it was too soon to feel like that. Yet he couldn’t help the way it felt, the way she made him feel.

“I hardly ever leave the cafe.” She protested.

“Why is that?” Steve was honestly curious. “This is a great little town.”

“I just...” She knew she messed up. He shouldn’t be curious. She shouldn’t allow the door of curiosity to open. Yet it felt… nice to have someone want to know about her. “I just spend most of my time painting is all.”

“Well, now you know. Maybe we can explore more of this little town.” Holding the door open for her, they entered into the nearly empty theater. Steve loved how easily her small frame slipped around him. It made him feel good to be so much bigger than her.

“We?” She looked at him in question as she slipped passed him. He was so much bigger than her that she felt small whenever he was close. It felt nice, if she was honest.

The idea of them spending more time together, doing more things together made her heart beat faster. It was naive. She couldn’t allow it. It was too much of a risk. She knew better. Julian would kill her himself.

“Yeah, we. At least, I’d like to if you would like to...”

It was clear he was nervous when he looked down at her. It seemed he was always assuming things, assuming he would have the thing he wanted- more time with her. The words just seemed to leave his mouth before he could think through the sort of pressure he was putting on her with his assumptions. All he could do once the words were spoken however was either backpedal awkwardly or shut up and hope for the best. This time he was aiming for shutting up. His dignity couldn’t take anymore backpedaling.

“I’d like that too.”

The answer came suddenly and she even looked surprised when the words left her lips. That was for good reason, she intended to spit out some excuse about needing to go visit a long lost friend and be out of touch for a bit. Drop off his radar and be done with it. That wasn’t what came out however.

Steve purchased the tickets to the only movie starting anytime soon titled “Before Dawn” and refused to allow her to pay him back. A starving artist shouldn’t be spending money on a movie when it was his idea, he told her.

“Firstly, I’m pretty sure this was actually Mrs. Jones’ idea. Second, I’m not a starving artist, I could have gotten it and the popcorn.” That was a mistake. It opened the door to questions and she realized she slipped up as soon as the words were out. He just shut her brain off and she wanted nothing more than to be normal with him.

“What do you do, then? I assumed the painting was your career.” Steve asked but quickly added, “Not that you’re not good enough to provide for yourself- it’s just I know how hard artist can work and see little return for it. Not that I’m assuming you get little return for it. I should stop talking, shouldn’t I?”

Rosemary laughed and it felt good. She shouldn’t be laughing however, he asked the question she had dreaded. He wasn’t dumb and it seemed he really wanted to get to know her, to learn of her. It was sweet and made her heart flutter in her chest. It was no good.

“I do some data entry for a few small businesses. Accounting and stuff.” Sure, that sounded good. Why not? File that away mentally in the folder of ‘lies thought of on the spot that may or may not bite me in the ass later’. The answer seemed to satisfy him however and the talking returned to easier topics as they found their seats in the dark theater.

“Do you know what this is about?” Steve leaned over and whispered as the previews played on the large screen. The theater was mostly empty.

“Romantic comedy I think. Some cross cultural love story. Posh London city boy meets country cowgirl I think. Mrs. Jones was going on and on about it- some actor she has a crush on leads. Tom something or another.”

They watched the movie itself mostly in silence. It was good in that it gave Rosemary a way to spend time with him without opening the door to more questions. Yet as time passed, each time he would move his arm would brush up against hers. Finally, with a sly look in her direction, Steve draped his arm over the back of her chair.

He was so mindful in the action to avoid touching her more than a little. He didn’t pull her to him and he didn’t wrap his arm around her but she could feel the heat of him just the same. A while later, she found herself leaning into his side completely unsure when the armrest between the seats had been pushed up.

His arm no longer was draped around the chair but rather was wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her snugly in place. The warmth radiating off him was relaxing and she wondered for a moment what it would be like to fall asleep tucked into his side. She could feel his chest move with each breath and when he would laugh she could feel him move with it.

Never in her life had she been held like this. As she rested her head against him, she prayed she would have the strength to do what had to be done. This couldn’t be allowed to continue. She needed to stop it. But she could at least finish out their time together today first, right?

As the movie played she relaxed without even noticing it. The warmth of him, the smell of him combined in the dark room to lull her into comfort. With a heavy sigh she decided she could indulge for the next hour or so. His hand rubbed against her arm, drawing her somehow closer still.

On the screen they watched a posh English man bumble his way through small town life in the country while setting up a local branch of a global company. With a fierce and sassy cow girl pushing him to do more, try more and learn to see more than what he knew the Englishman slowly fell in love with a woman who was nothing like what he was taught to expect. Their love story unfolded on the screen in a make believe world where all important conversations took place at sunset or dawn and the weather was always perfect for a romantic horseback ride.

At some point she had moved to be completely cuddled up to his side, his arm was heavy and warm around her. She could feel the tips of his fingers resting on her hip while her own legs were drawn up, knees resting against his thick thighs. One hand rested in her lap and the other was relaxed against his abdomen.

She could feel every breath he took, every soft chuckle. Nothing made it passed her. Yet she was surprised when she felt his nose nestle against the top of her head while the characters on the screen proclaimed their love for each other. His breath was warm against the top of her head and she could feel his mouth pressed against her head. Was it a kiss in the dark? She had no way to know.

Closing her eyes, Rosemary pushed back the tears as she realized she could easily fall in love with Steve. Without trying to, without meaning to she could give her heart to him. It felt so good to be with him and he was everything she wanted when they would talk. He was everything she could want and she couldn’t have it.

Taking a deep breath, she made her choice. This would be the end. There would be no more talking to Steve. Never again would she open the door to him. She wouldn’t take his calls. In time, he would forget about her. She was unremarkable.

“Everything okay?” Steve’s hushed whisper made her realize a tear slipped down her face, dripping onto his shirt and her breath was not as even as it should have been. Silently, she nodded her head and prayed he would assume it was happy tears from watching the love story unfold.

When he held her just a little closer she whispered back, “I’m fine.” and he hummed in acknowledgment as the movie played on. On the screen in front of her, the couple kissed and held each other close in a way Rosemary realized she would probably never experience. This was all she would get. This would be all she could get.

With a deep breath she told herself she would enjoy the time she had. It was only maybe another hour that she could have this sweet warmth that he gave her. The credits began to roll as she took a deep breath to steady herself for a walk home.

Steve glanced down at her as they walked. The conversation seemed to flow freely enough between them but it was as if there was some sort of wall between them that wasn’t there when they sat down in the theater. It confused him in that things seemed to have been going so well.

Even as he walked chatting lightly with her, he could remember the warmth of her body pressed into his side. As he thought back to the dark theater it was like the smell of her fruity shampoo was stuck in his memory. He analyzed everything he did during the movie but she seemed fine with everything. Not once did she pull away or did he pick up on any discomfort.

“Come up for a drink?” The timid way she asked made him smile. It warmed his heart how naive she seemed to be. It wasn’t often he ran into women that reminded him of another time, of his time.

True, the dresses she wore were lower cut or higher hemmed than would ever be considered appropriate. They also clung to her curves in a way that the fabrics of his time and financial means at the time would never have allowed. Her hair flowed down in loose waves and curls of red that mesmerized him.

She mesmerized him, plain and simple. Yet apparently he had done something to cause upset in this sensitive unnamed thing that they had. What even was it that they had? Things worked so differently now, did he get to call her his girl yet?

“I’d love to.” The smile she gave him was sweet but looked almost pained.

Crossing the cafe toward the steps to her apartment it took everything Rosemary had to not look at Mrs. Jones. The old woman was still working the cafe counter and to anyone else, it would look like she just decided to stay open a bit latter into the afternoon than was normal.

Rosemary knew however Mrs. Jones was staying to get the pleasure of wiggling her eyebrows at them as they crossed the floor and disappeared up the stairs. Surely, just as soon as Steve left the old woman would be up the stairs somehow free of pain and asking twenty questions with a slice of pie in hand to buy answers.

Once inside her apartment she made quick work of opening the bottle of wine and pouring two glasses. After a few deep breaths she turned to face Steve, handing him his glass.

“It’s not nearly as nice as the one you brought for the picnic but...”

“It’s fine- I didn’t even pick that, Tony did.” Rosemary knew Tony was a friend and coworker of Steve’s. Silence stretched on as they both stood awkwardly in the small space between the living and dining areas of her small apartment. They where standing an arms length away and her body was tense with nerves.

“Look, Sara.” This time she cringed when he called her name. She hated that name. “I don’t want you to think I’m ever going to make you do anything. I-” She cut him off.

“I can’t do this. We-” She motioned between them. “can’t do this.”

“Do what?” Steve ran his hand through his hair, turning to look out the window for a moment before facing her. “Talk? Watch movies? Drink wine?”

“Be together.” Rosemary pressed, not stepping away when he took a step toward her. She downed her glass of wine and turned to fill it again.

“Be together?” Steve parroted back, making Rosemary worry that she had misread the situation all together. “Are we together?” Steve asked softly.

“I don’t know.” Rosemary admitted. “I’ve never done this before. I’ve never been on a date before you. I’ve never held someone’s hand. I’ve never...” Rather than finishing where her rant was going she decided to finish the glass of wine.

“You’ve never?” Steve stepped closer to her and took the bottle from her. Two glasses of wine in ten minutes was impressive.

“We can’t do this.” She pleaded.

“I’m not going to do anything unless you want me to.” Steve tried to reassure, thinking she was worried he was after more than just her time today.

“I can’t be with you.” She pressed, looking at him with tears in her eyes.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“It’s dangerous. You have to stop coming. You have to stop calling. We’ve got to stop.” Closing her eyes she tried to tell herself to tell him that she just didn’t want him. She should yell, scream and push him away but her heart was hurting too much.

“I’m not worried about dangerous.” Steve reached out and ran his hand up and down her arm as a tear slipped down her face. “Are you in trouble? Did you do something?” She laughed and looked away.

“I can’t talk about it.” She answered honestly.

“Are you hurting people?” Steve asked and she shook her head ‘no’ though it wasn’t the whole truth. She avoided hurting people when at all possible and tried to balance the evil things she sometimes helped happen with good deeds. “Not really. I try not to.”

“Is someone after you?” Steve asked stepping closer and setting his wine glass down on the counter behind her.

“A lot of people are after me.” She admitted and blamed the wine. “I can’t talk about it. I can’t tell you about it. But we can’t do this. It’s not safe for you. It’s not safe for me.”

“Do you not like me?” Steve asked sadly.

“No- that’s the thing. I like you, Steve. I like you a lot. That’s why we can’t-”

She couldn’t finish what she was saying. He reached out for her so suddenly that she had no way to process what was about to happen. With one arm wrapped around her waist and his other hand softly around the back of her neck, his lips were on hers in the blink of an eye.

Her hands reached up and braced themselves against his chest but she did not push him away. It was over as soon as it began. Steve pulled away just as she relaxed, allowing her eyes to slide closed. Each breath fanned over her as he held her close.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. That was out of line.” She cut his rambling off.

“Do it again.” Taking a deep breath, she repeated herself. “Do it again if you’re really okay with me having my secrets, if you understand that I’m scared and have never done this before. Do it again?” She was practically begging him as a few tears escaped her eyes.

Steve knew he should walk away, secrets were never the way to start a relationship but didn’t he have his own? She had no idea who he was and what he did for work. Just security- the idea would have made him laugh if not for the tears running down her face.

“Please?” The word was more a whimper than anything as she looked up to him, clutching his shirt.

She desperately wanted him to kiss her again and make her mind stop working for a while. She wouldn't be surprised however if he walked out. Why would he stay? She told him she had people potentially after her and that she wouldn’t be able to tell him more. It was better if he didn’t kiss her. If this is what scared him away that would be a good thing. The risk of opening herself up, of allowing him to get closer when he could never know the truth was too great. One day no matter how much she cared for him and he for her, he would wake up in the morning and all trace of her would be gone.

His kiss was softer this time however she clung to him just the same. Without experience to guide her, she let him lead and followed instinct. His lips felt amazing against hers. Slowly, he walked them backwards and she trusted him not to run them into anything.

His tongue swept across her lower lip and she sighed. It wasn’t a feeling she had expected to like but in reality she did. The slick muscle slipped between her lips and she was lost as to what she should do so she copied him. Their tongues twisted and rubbed against one another.

A strong arm reached down and pulled her legs out from under her. Still, he kept kissing her as he sat down on the couch, her legs stretched across his lap. Her hands ran up his chest, enjoying the feel of the strong muscle under the shirt to warp around his shoulder and tangle in his hair.

“I want to be here for you.” Steve whispered as his lips finally left hers only to begin kissing along her jaw. “I will be here for you, if you let me.”

“I can’t ask you too.” She sighed as she tried to hold herself closer to him.

“You don’t have to ask.” Steve sucked her earlobe between his lips and gave it a soft nibble, enjoying the way a shudder ran down her back. Leaning to the side, he guided her down to rest on her back as he kissed and nibbled his way down her neck to her shoulder.

“Trust me.” Steve breathed the words against the hollow of her throat. “You don’t have to tell me all your secrets right now but in time, try to trust me.”

“Okay.”

She couldn’t even think right as he began to work his way up her neck again. Their lips met again as Steve nestled his weight over her. The heat from his body was radiating down at her and she wouldn’t have it any other way. He was pressed into her hip and thighs but she didn’t mind at all.

He shifted and rocked against her as he deeply kissed her and she could feel him against her. It was something she’d never thought she would feel but he was stiff and firm in his jeans. She moaned as he rocked against her again. Desire she didn’t understand flooded her. It was terrifying and addicting all at the same time.

“You’ll give me a chance?” Steve whispered as he pulled away, hovering just an inch above her. She leaned up and kissed him, pulling him to her but he resisted the urge to delve into her kiss again. “Will you not push me away?”

Finally she nodded. With that settled, Steve needed to settle down himself. He slipped his arm under the small of her back and up between her shoulders. When he sat up, he took her with him. She was straddling his lap with her knees on either side of his hips when his back rested against the couch.

“I won’t ask the things you don’t want me to right now. I won’t ask them next week or even next month. Eventually I hope you’ll trust me enough to tell me. Eventually I’ll need to know but now isn’t the time. Okay?”

More tears slipped down her face as she meekly nodded. It would never be the right time to tell him. She would never be able to trust him enough. But for now, he wouldn’t ask. As she nestled herself onto his chest and allowed him to hold her, a small voice in the back of her mind spoke hopeful what-if’s.

What if she could trust him enough in time? What if she could tell him in a few months? What if he could come with her next time she had to disappear? What if he fell in love with her? What if she fell in love with him? What if?

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bizarrebird · 7 years

Text

leave room for space jesus

Prompt from @orangeycookiekay - helloooooo how about a tuckington fluff prompt-- slow dancing (or very noble attempts)??

This was a super cute prompt and I really hope I did it justice!

Also on AO3 here

Warnings: N/A

Rating: T

Pairings: Tuckington, implied Grimmons

“Wash, c’mon, it’s not that hard.”

His eyes are still doubtful, but he takes Tucker’s hand anyway and lets him pull him to his feet again. “I still don’t see what the point of this is. I doubt Grif and Simmons are going to want to dance much.”

“So? Other people will.”

“What do you mean, so? It’s their wedding, Tucker.”

Tucker snorts and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, but if it was up to them, they’d just hop a ship to the Vegas quadrant to get married and never tell anyone. The reception is for Donut, and he wants people dancing, so c’mon.”

Wash still thinks it’s pointless, and that it’s weird for someone’s wedding reception to not actually be for them, but he lets Tucker drag him to the middle of their room. They’ve shoved all the furniture aside for these little ‘dance lessons’. Which Wash is still pretty sure he doesn’t need, although Tucker hadn’t backed down once he’d made his off hand comment about never dancing much.

That had been his first mistake.

So now they’re in their shared room, Tucker’s ‘slow lovin’ jams’ playlist on in the background. The fact that Wash knows it’s called that is such a problem itself, but that’s neither here nor there. He’s known he’s in too deep for a while now. Ever since the end of the war when he and Tucker ended up tipsy and touchy in a closet, they’ve been in weird sort of relationship limbo.

He’s not sure quite what they are and he’s pretty sure Tucker doesn’t either, but they’re both waaaay too emotionally stunted to ask. Or Wash is anyway. Tucker usually seems a little less emotionally constipated, but that might not be saying a whole lot. Sensitivity training was one of that things that every level of Freelancer seemed to miss out on.

But he knows Tucker’s dealing with enough right now and the last thing he needs is to try to deal with Wash’s issues on top of his own. So whatever they are now, Wash is good with it. Mostly.

That still doesn’t mean that spending time alone with just the two of them in close proximity with lots of touching is a good idea. Because there’s touching. Lots. Definitely more than necessary as Tucker pulls him close and nudges him into the position, one hand holding Wash’s, the other at his hip.

Tucker grins and looks a little too pleased with himself. “Alright, now just watch my feet and follow my lead. Once you’ve kinda got it, we can switch off and I’ll be the girl.”

“Right.” He bites back a comment about how he’s pretty sure Tucker’s hand doesn’t need to be quite as low as it is, but he’s pretty sure drawing attention to it isn’t going to help. Tucker waits for a moment, head nodding with the music for a beat or two before he starts moving in time with it.

Wash’s eyes are on his face and not his feet and he’s not expecting it and Tucker just walks into him. His face scrunches up, one eyebrow rising. “Dude? C’mon, we haven’t even started.”

“Sorry, I was distracted. Let’s try again.” He gives himself a little shake, forcing his eyes to Tucker’s feet as he feels his face heat up. There’s a soft chuckle that he knows is at his expense, but he’s just going to ignore it.

This time, he sees Tucker’s feet moving and follows him. It’s a little awkward, but they haven’t stepped on each other yet. After a few moments though, Tucker tugs him to a stop. “Okay, yeah, this shit isn’t working.”

Wash blinks at him, finally looking up. “What? I thought I was doing alright. Was I going too slow?”

“No, it’s--you’re way too tense for this, dude. You need to loosen up a little. Here, let me go a sec.” Tucker pulls away, flexing the hand that had been holding Wash’s hand, and it suddenly occurs to him that his grip might have been a little tight. Shit.

As his hands fall back to his sides, he realizes just how clammy they both are. Damn it. This shouldn’t be so difficult. Wash knows his footwork is good in a fight. Hell, he’s been the one giving Tucker tips about that. Dancing shouldn’t be any harder than that. Then again, in a knife fight, he’s usually not overly concerned with stepping on his partner’s feet.

Still, it stands to reason that some of the same techniques should apply. Maybe if he had a knife…

The music changes and pulls Wash out of his thoughts. This one’s familiar too, a little softer and gentler than the one before. He blinks at Tucker, one eyebrow rising as he draws closer. “I’m not sure going even slower will make things better.”

Tucker shakes his head. “You’re too busy thinking about shit. When you’re not leading you’re supposed to just like… let the other person kinda pull you around a little more, trust your partner, y’know?”

Wash blanches, guilt gnawing at him. “I do trust you.”

That makes a strangely soft smile spread over Tucker’s face as he steps closer and reaches for Wash’s hands, pulling at him. “I know, Wash. Now c’mere.”

He moves with the tug and lets Tucker guide his hands to his shoulders before Tucker’s hands go to his waist. The position reminds him of the awkward middle school slow dances he’s tried very hard to block out (there’s a few memories he would be okay with not getting back after the Epsilon incident).

“Alright, now what?” Wash asks, cocking an eyebrow.

“Now you fucking relax and just sway a little.” Tucker huffs when he keeps staring. Reaching up, his hand moves to the back of Wash’s neck, carefully curling around the old scars there. It’s the kind of touch that would make Wash body slam anyone else into the floor. Even now, it still makes him go still, but Tucker’s hand is gentle as he slowly guides Wash’s head forward to rest on his shoulder.

“Just like this. Actually, put your hands on my waist instead.” Wash does and a little sigh goes out of him as Tucker’s other arm loops around him, palm pressing flat just between his shoulder blades. “There, okay, now just let me do all the work.”

Wash snorts. “That would be a first.”

“Hey, fuck you, dude, I do plenty of work.” But there’s a laugh in Tucker’s voice as he starts them swaying, walking Wash backwards in a slow little circle. The music keeps going, another song coming on, just as slow, and with… pretty sappy lyrics if he’s hearing them right.

But it isn’t too bad, really.

Wash is fairly sure that actual dancing requires a little more focus and grace than this, but it’s… kind of nice just leaning against Tucker, letting him steer them around. They’re close enough that he can feel Tucker’s chest brush against his. His hands slowly creep around to the small of Tucker’s back. They move in smaller and smaller circles until they’re just turning and swaying on the spot.

Eyes falling shut, he lets out a breath as Tucker’s fingers move gently over the back of his neck. This definitely isn’t the kind of dancing they’re supposed to be doing at the wedding, but he can’t bring himself to say something to make it stop. Tucker’s warm and he can feel the firm lines of his muscles through the slightly too tight shirt he’s wearing.

There’s a million different things he shouldn’t be noticing. Like how Tucker smells like that nice fruity shampoo Donut found, or how his hair tickles a little where it brushes Wash’s cheek, or how he’s faintly humming along to the song and drumming his fingers gently to the beat against Wash’s back.

A knock at the door makes Wash realize two things. First, that they left the door to the room open in the first place, meaning dozens of people could have seen them. And second, that they’ve basically stopped moving at this point without him noticing.

He looks over as he freezes in Tucker’s arms. Sarge and Donut are both there, because of course they are. Donut’s got his hands pressed to his mouth like he’s about to start cooing at them. There’s a very loud throat clearing from Sarge. “Well someone ain’t leaving much room for space Jesus.”

It sounds like a joke, but it makes Wash abruptly spring back from Tucker, nearly stumbling over himself. Glancing back, he finds Tucker making a face at the intrusion, not at him, strangely enough. His face burns as he turns back toward Sarge and Donut, who’s definitely laughing behind his hands now.

Wash takes a breath, trying to collect himself. “Did you two need something?”

“I just wanted to stop by to see how the dance lesson was going.” Donut’s innocent smile doesn’t fool Wash for a second. Someone is getting a talking to at their next wine and cheese hour.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Wash cocks an eyebrow at the pair of them. “It’s going just fine. I’m… getting there.”

“I’d offer to help show you a two step, but I ain’t sure if that’d work if your fixing to feel up--” Sarge cuts himself off with a loud fake cough as Donut drives an elbow into his side. “I mean, good work, soldiers, keep at it. But remember, space Jesus.”

“We’ll just leave you to it. C’mon Sarge, we’ve got things to do, you’re in charge of confetti.” Wash feels a tiny surge of gratitude as Donut grabs the old soldier by the arm and drags him off down the hallway.

There’s a muttered curse from Tucker as he stomps over and shuts the door with probably a little more force than necessary. He turns and presses his back to it, crossing his arms over his chest as he lets out a huff. “Someday they’re gonna learn to mind their own fucking business.”

Frowning, Wash tips his head a little to one side, eyes flicking to the door. “We did leave it open, they could have just been passing by.”

Tucker scoffs and cocks an eyebrow at him. “Seriously? Dude, they were checking up on us. Everyone’s been doing it all fucking week, it’s pissing me off.”

He pushes himself off the door and walks across the room to flop down face first on his bed. Wash hesitates for a moment before approaching, tentatively sitting next to him as he reaches out to lightly grab Tucker’s shoulder. “I don’t think they mean anything by it… or nothing bad anyway.”

Because that’s the only part he’s sure of here. Wash isn’t quite going soft just yet, and he’s noticed more than a few lingering stares from the other Reds and Blues whenever he and Tucker sit together in the mess hall, or head off for a workout. It hasn’t really been something he’s thought about much, everyone likes gossip now and then. (He would be lying if he said he hadn’t had a few too many talks with Donut about when Grif and Simmons would finally tie the knot.)

But maybe that’s been a mistake on his part. Tucker hasn’t knocked his hand away yet, so he gently rubs his back. “I can… try to talk to them if you want, and explain that there’s… nothing going on that they need to be concerned about.”

Tucker pushes himself up and fixes Wash with a strangely intense look, a few of his dreads falling into his face. “So there’s nothing going on here?”

That is definitely a trick question. So Wash just stares at him for a moment, a deer watching an eighteen-wheeler barreling down on him. He’s tempted to say no, but… he’s not sure that’s true, and he’s even less sure that yes is the right answer. “Uh.”

Glancing away, he rubs at the back of his neck. “I’m not sure,” he says slowly, trying to pick his words carefully. “But… whatever’s going on, it’s nothing that the rest of them need to worry about. It’s between us.”

He risks a look down at Tucker. There’s not a smile there, but his frown is a bit less intense now. His teeth are doing a number on his lower lip and there’s this little wrinkle between his eyebrows that Wash wants to kiss away. And that’s a thought that sort of throws him for a loop for a minute.

He’s in way too deep.

And yet, he doesn’t stop himself from reaching out to gently brush Tucker’s hair back from his forehead, tucking it behind his ear. His knuckles lightly skim over Tucker’s cheek and there’s a sharp inhale.

The music changes, another slow song. Tucker must have put on another playlist. This one’s very familiar, though he’s not quite sure why. It’s nice though, his foot tapping along to it. “I like this song,” he says, almost absently.

Rising from the bed, he offers his hand to Tucker and manages a half smile. “Let’s try again. I think I almost got those steps you were showing me before.”

Tucker eyes his hand before he takes it and Wash pulls him to his feet. He doesn’t let go as he tugs Tucker toward the center of the room again. This time, he puts his hand on Tucker’s waist, which gets him a raised eyebrow. Smile growing, Wash shrugs. “I think I’ll try leading this time.”

“I like it when you take charge,” Tucker says, with a teasing wiggle of his eyebrows.

Wash snorts. “No you don’t.”

“Okay, yeah, most of the time. Dude, just let me hit on you in peace.”

“Oh, is that what you’re doing? I wasn’t sure.” Wash smirks as he repeats the steps from earlier, steering Tucker along as he tries to keep time with the song.

“Don’t be a dick.” But Tucker’s smiling as he shakes his head, letting Wash lead him along.

It seems so easy for him, to just go where Wash moves him, his eyes never straying to their feet. Tucker moves naturally, even when the song changes and Wash almost trips over his own feet trying to adjust to the slightly different tempo. His hand moves from Wash’s shoulder to the back of his neck again, fingertips lightly running over his hairline.

Wash steps on Tucker’s feet twice and nearly steers him into a wall once, but there’s no major disasters by the time the songs start repeating, so he’s going to call that a win for now.

“I think you’re getting it, Wash,” Tucker says, the corners of his eyes crinkling a little. Pulling away, he plops down on his bed again, rubbing at one of his feet. “Think I’m done for the day though. If I sway anymore, I’m gonna get sea sick all over your shoes.”

“Please don’t.” Wash laughs a little as he moves to turn off the music. “I might need a few more lessons though. I’d rather not step on anyone at the reception.”

“Eh, I don’t really give a shit if you step on me a few times,” Tucker says, shrugging. “Better you than Caboose. I tried teaching him ages ago and he almost broke three of my toes.”

“Fair enough, but if I end up dancing with anyone else, they might not feel the same.”

Tucker scoffs and Wash looks over as he flops back on the bed. “We both know I’ve called dibs for the whole reception, dude. Just accept it.”

That catches Wash a little by surprise, but… maybe it shouldn’t. He glances back at the stereo and flicks through Tucker’s music, pulling up the ‘slow lovin’ jams’ playlist. Tucker’s looking at him, confusion on his face when Wash turns around and moves to sit next to him.

“You have decent taste in music,” is all Wash says as he flops back against the bed and drapes an arm over his eyes.

“Decent?” There’s a little snort next to him and then he feels Tucker’s weight settle against his side. “Fine, you pick the music for next time.”

“Maybe I will.” And suddenly, he’s really, really looking forward to that next lesson.

#rvb fluff week #my writing #tuckington #mostly just cutesy nonsense #background grimmons #i'm really bad at titles i'm so sorry

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