So, this is my very first attempt at fan fiction. Really, it's my first attempt at writing any sort of unassigned fiction of any sort.
I'm a 30-year old returning college student and am a married mother of two. I've written some professionally for a small non-profit organization in my past, but have always dreamed of writing that great American novel. For now though, I'll settle for writing fan fiction about those lovely characters in one of my most favorite book series.
This story is planned to have a bit of everything: some angst, humor, romance, etc. I've written ahead, but not too far, as I'd like to get a feel for any sort of feedback. I know where I'm going but am not 100% certain which routes I'll take along the way.
It's probably a little prologue heavy, but what can I say? I must obey my muse. It's all her fault.
This story will not be a Cupcake, nor will it likely be a Babe. Most likely, it will be a tart, and I am pretty certain whom Steph will end up with. But as I haven't written that part yet, I don't want to box myself in.
This story is definitely rated M for many reasons, not least of which will be language, smut and some violence, though I will try to avoid graphic violence.
Please, if you will, review and let me know what you think. I am new at this so your reviews can only help me grow as a writer. I am new to this whole process!
And of course, they're not mine and I'm not earning a penny.
Prologue – Part I
I've always thought the sunrise here, from this very spot, had to be the most magnificent view in the entire world. Granted, I've led a relatively sheltered life and I certainly haven't been everywhere.
Still – the sentiment remains.
I watched in earnest as the sun began its slow assent in the clear, black sky. It was quiet, though not eerily so. It was a pleasant quiet that inspired introspection. As the sun began to paint the sky in glorious blues, pinks and yellows, I became completely immersed in my thoughts, as only I can.
To date, I have not made much of my life. I am thirty-one years old, working as a bond enforcement agent, a job in which I'd earned by blackmailing my sleazy cousin, Vinnie. While I know I actually have a great capture rate (94%, thankyouverymuch), I know in my heart that I am not actually very good at my job. This is my fault - my lack of personal success. If I were honest with myself, I have not tried exceptionally hard to better myself. Not in recent years, and if I really considered my past actions and decisions, not really ever, save for a tiny blip in time.
Why this introspection today, you ask? Well, it is November 10, after all. The day that I commonly think of as the day Stephanie Plum, innocent intergalactic space princess died. Exactly eleven years ago, it was the day that I lost myself. Far more accurately, I was stolen –from myself – by none other than my devastatingly handsome boyfriend's cousin, Shawn Jacobson.
The memories clouded my vision. Fall semester midterms were officially on the books. I was carrying my usual 18-credit course load and breezing through the semester. I was just 20 years old at the time. I was technically a sophomore in years, maybe, but a junior if you went by my earned credits. I was an International Studies major, with grand plans to change the world.
I was on track to graduate in three years – perhaps just five semesters if I'd played my cards right. I'd planned on going to go to law school. I was blazing a trail that no Plum had traveled before, especially a woman. I was going to become the president of the fucking United States of America. For the very first time in my life, I excelled at something; I put forth my everything into proving to myself that I could become more than The Burg. I, Stephanie Plum, was the top student in Princeton University's Woodrow Wilson School of Public and International Affairs. Watch out world, here I come!
I sighed deeply and let the recollections settle down all around me. I'd been so proud, so God damn proud of myself. I remember when I told my family the news of my acceptance to Princeton that fateful Easter. Despite my melancholy mood, I couldn't help it when a small giggle slipped out. I'd never seen my mother so drunk in my life. Sure, probably it paled in comparison to any one of her reactions of late when I've gone and blown something up, but as it was the time I'd witnessed it, it was a surprise. My gosh, was my mother horrified! Here, her daughter gets accepted into an Ivy-league school and she was ashamed. That's the Burg for you though, I guess. Un-fucking-believable.
To this day, I still can't get a read on my dad's reaction that day. He immediately slipped on his own version of a blank-face. The military must really breed that into you – assholes. He had offered me an awkward hug and told me to "go get'em". Whatever that means. My older sister, St. Valerie, had recently been married and had moved to San Diego. At least I was spared her reaction. Grandma Mazur? Bless her, she had whooped and hollered and had called all of her friends. She congratulated me, hugged me, and graced me with a giant smackeroo on my right cheek. She'd even started to make silly, outrageous plans to move in with me on campus. She was going to bag herself "a nice, firm young one with a nice package and bright future". I sighed. Oh, Grandma – how I love you so. You're the only one who has been of constant support throughout my life.
On that fateful day, November 10, I had spent the entire day on the Princeton campus, reveling in the beauty of the day and overcome with anticipation for the upcoming holidays. It was the only time I really allowed myself a little R&R. I'd spent the morning enjoying the lectures of some of the most brilliant minds in my future field. The day had been stunningly gorgeous, and at the time I'd felt like it was foretelling of my bright future. I bit back a sigh. How naïve I'd been! The sky had been a bright, radiant blue with a smattering of delicate, white puffy clouds strewn about. It had been nearing an unseasonably warm 70 degrees or so that day, and the campus had been so unnaturally green.
I remember wondering just how much they spent on the landscaping each year? Surely, it had been more than my parents' annual household income. The lawn and the wildflowers and the trees almost took on a surreal quality. The colors were exceptionally vivid – the reds and oranges and yellows – and there wasn't a single weed in sight. I wonder - if I went there today, would it still look the same?
I shuddered at that thought. No, it was probably best to leave well enough alone. I sat there, unable to stop my mind from its slow video playback of that fateful day. While I'd been lazing in the courtyard, enjoying a light lunch, Shawn had slipped in the vacant seat to my left. Shawn was a senior at Princeton. He was a pre-med student and had recently been accepted to Harvard Medical School. I knew this because he was my boyfriend MJ's cousin.
MJ was a junior at Princeton with me. He'd been a year older than me, but we shared many of the same classes. Our relationship had built slowly over the course of the previous year. The only previous "dating" experience I really had was my "Tasty Pastry" incident with none other than Joe Morelli and a smattering of "first-dates".
See, once I'd gotten onto campus and away from the Burg, I dove headfirst into my studies. I'd stayed much to myself - I didn't do the frat party scene. The mere thought of joining a sorority honestly terrified me, and I really wasn't interested in dating. At that time, I was pretty sure that all the boys wanted was to get into my pants. Really, I wasn't far off base; I took a moment to remind myself that most of the thirty-something men I knew really weren't all that different today. Do boys ever really grow up?
I digress. So, MJ and I had been officially dating for nearly a year. I was completely, irrevocably in love with that man. We'd both planned on attending law school upon graduation and making a big splash out there. We'd planned a future filled with wedding bells, parties hobnobbing on Capitol Hill and immersion into the DC political scene. We were definitely well matched in both temperament and in bed. He'd been my very best friend – my everything. Wow, the things that boy could do to my body.
Let us say it was a great thing that he'd had his own place off campus.
Ahem.
I'd liked his family, and I'd hidden him well from mine. We'd worked together part-time on the presidential campaign that year and saw each other most days. More than just my boyfriend, he'd been my confidant, a source of endless support, and one of my only friends on campus. I'd been on such a warpath to success that I'd alienated many of my classmates. Nobody likes the person that carries the curve.
So, when Shawn sat with me at lunch that horrifying day, I'd been pleasantly surprised; I'd thought he'd be busy getting a jump on studying for finals. I'd been feeling a bit lonely; MJ had spent the previous ten days in Madrid participating in one of our school's study abroad programs and he wasn't due home for another week.
While I'd known that it was likely that MJ had asked Shawn to look out for me, I'd been flattered that he'd sought me out nonetheless.
Naturally, when Shawn asked me to join him and some of his friends at a "get-together" at his place after dinner, I'd uncharacteristically jumped at the chance to do some socializing. When I'd finished lunch, Shawn spent the late afternoon walking me around the grounds, pointing out the various buildings in the area and sharing some funny stories about the things he'd witnessed over the previous three years.
Strangely, a couple of times it had felt like he was going to hold my hand. I'd carefully move my hand away. I remember thinking it was a little strange, but I had felt so comfortable with him that I didn't overanalyze it. He was my friend, and MJ's cousin. He walked me to my dorm so I could get ready for the get-together.
After scarfing down a quick peanut butter and olive sandwich for dinner, I'd showered, changed and headed out toward the address Shawn had provided me with. It was only about four blocks away from my dorm, and as I approached I was surprised to find the house so, well, LOUD. I had honestly been expecting to find maybe a few guys there, watching a game. Not a full-blown frat party in progress.
More than just a little confused, I'd made my way inside and I was immediately overwhelmed. Shawn was easily found, and had the decency to actually seem embarrassed; I'd turned to leave, but he'd begged me to stay, to forgive him.
"Steph, please!" he'd cried. "I am so very sorry. I asked my roommate to pull together a couple of the lower classmen for you to meet and I never once expected this. It has gotten way out of hand. Please forgive me. Give them a chance - most of them here are nice guys. A little wild, sure, but you can still get to know them," he'd pleaded.
"Shawn, I don't think these are the type of people I want to get to know. I should go. This really isn't my scene," I replied, turning to leave.
Shawn had looked so defeated; I couldn't help having felt a little sorry for him. Like a little puppy that had acci-purposely chewed its owner's shoes.
Right then, as I'd started to warm up just a bit, he'd laid on the charm. "Steph, sweetie, it's getting late and nearing curfew in your building. Why don't you let loose for once and go with the flow? Have a beer, relax, and later, you can crash in my room. You should let off some of that steam you've built up and celebrate yourself. You're fucking top of your class at Princeton, gorgeous. Few people can say that. Why don't you just take a moment to revel in your success, angel?"
At that, I'd caved. Shawn grabbed me a beer and we'd made our way down to the shared basement where many of the others were hanging out. There was a full-sized pool table, several dartboards, and what I'd imagined was a dance floor. Like a mini tavern, right there in their basement. Maybe … maybe that should have been my first clue that not all was what it seemed.
I'd drank that first beer, and then another. I had been easily on my way to being drunk for the first time in my sheltered life. I'd played a couple of the guys in darts, played against Shawn in pool, and spent the better part of an hour shaking my tail feather on the improvised dance floor. By beer #3, Shawn had sidled up next to me on the dance floor and, surprisingly, started to get a little grabby. But, oh boy, could that man dance!
When his hands skimmed my body, I was thoroughly shocked to find that I'd felt like I'd been set ablaze. This is MJ's cousin, I'd had to remind myself. You love MJ. Sweet MJ, with his wavy blond hair and bright blue eyes. MJ, Steph. Think of MJ.
Just as I nearly came to my senses, Shawn leaned in to kiss me, and God help me, I'd kissed him back. Wholly. I am pretty sure I'd attacked him with my tongue, and within minutes, what we'd been doing on that dance floor was verging on X-rated. I'd felt so fucking good. His touch had been magical, and as he slowly kissed me along my jawline, to my ear, and slowly, so very slowly, down my sensitive neck, I came. Right there, on that dance floor. All I was capable of thinking was "wow!" Well, that and, "more!"
Shawn had then lifted me, grabbing me in one swift motion from behind my thighs and wrapping my legs around his waist. My dripping-wet pussy rubbed had against his rock-hard cock, and he carried me upstairs to his bedroom. I thought his very essence was enchanted, and God help me, I hadn't been able to stop touching him. His skin was soft as silk and it tasted like salted caramel. Sweet and salty. I was a moth and he'd been my flame.
God, I'd been putty in his hands.
Of course, we'd had sex - three times - in surprisingly quick succession. I couldn't get enough of him. I had never felt that way before, and to be honest, I haven't quite felt that way since. After our second time, he'd tied me up with his belt. That frozen moment had felt so damn exhilarating. You're sure banishing that Burg girl forever, Stephanie, I remember thinking.
Following our third and final time together, I'd started to lose my buzz. I began to feel exhausted and confused. My thoughts had been about clear as mud and I was ready to go home and get my head on straight. I tried to get up, but I'd been severely lacking in coordination.
I clearly remember the dishonor I'd felt at that moment; I remembered the questions that ran rampant through my mind. What the hell? What just happened? What did I do? And how could I have done this to MJ? What will MJ think?
I can't lose MJ – my everything.
Tears began to fall down my face in earnest, as I sat and watched the sunrise and remembered what came next.
