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mummybear · 3 years

Text

Finally, I’ve Found You.

Words: 4938

Warnings: Swearing, Smut, ABO, Protective Sam, Possessive Dean, Claiming, Scenting, Dirty Talk, Orgasm Control, Hair Pulling, Fluff, Angst, Teasing, knotting....Think that’s it :)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Bingo Square: @spnkinkbingo - Free Space - ABO Soul Mates

Summary: When your protective Alpha best friend takes you to meet his family, things don’t go quite to plan. You end up finding something, or someone, you’ve been looking for your whole life.

Beta: @negans-lucille-tblr Thank you again babe! :D

Divider: @firefly-graphics

Being an Omega in this part of the world was nothing short of a nightmare - Omegas were treated as slaves and fuck toys for Alphas. When your parents had died, you were even more scared than ever before. Being left alone in this world was terrifying, you hadn’t told anyone, not until you’d met Sam Winchester. He was an Alpha through and through,” - at least, that’s what he let the outside world believe. To you he was your best friend, and your protector. He was a complete sweetheart, even when you knew it was hard for him not to give into his nature.

The most that he ever did was snap at you, but that was only when his rut hit particularly hard or your heat or his rut started before either of you were ready. Even then though, he would lock himself away, or he would lock you away and keep you safe, until those days passed. You wanted to want Sam in that way, and you knew he felt the same, but neither of you had ever been able to bring yourselves to do anything.

There were times you’d talked about it at length; the possibility of you being his, but you’d always come to the same conclusion. It wasn’t right, for either of you, and it wouldn’t be fair. You were worried though, because if Sam wasn’t supposed to be yours, then who was? And were they even half as sweet, hot and caring as your best friend? You only knew what you’d been told by your other Omega friends, once you found your mate, you would just know.

“You ready to go?” Sam asks as he walks into your room, with a big excited grin on his face.

“Sam, are you sure about this?” you sigh as you finish zipping up your suitcase for the weekend.

“Y/N, trust me! My family are going to love you.”

“You know I trust you, more than anyone on the planet, but I don’t know if It’s such a good idea. I’m not exactly special, I’m just like any other Omega,” you sigh as he takes the suitcase from your grip, and you hear him huff quietly.

“I’ve told you before, that isn’t how any of my family see it. Besides, you’re my best friend, they know how much you’ve been there for me. Even if you are a giant pain my ass. Now come on, stop complaining,” he winks at you over his shoulder.

You roll your eyes and follow him out of the door.

“Fine, but you better not leave me on my own,” you huff out, locking the door behind you.

Luckily the drive doesn’t take as long as you thought it might, and all too soon you’re pulling up to a gorgeous home, with perfectly kept lawn and two classic cars in the driveway. You wring your hands in your lap, feeling the nerves creeping up on you even more than you’d expected. You can feel the need to be sick pressing against the back of your throat. Sam must notice because seconds later you feel a big hand on top of both of yours, and you feel a slight sense of calm start to settle over you.

“Sam, I told you not to use those Alpha powers of yours on me,” you laugh slightly, feeling grateful that he doesn’t always listen to you.

“Y/N, you’re shaking and you’re breathing too hard. I don’t want you passing out on me, just breathe,” he smiles gently, the complete picture of calm, as always.

It takes a few moments, but you finally manage to get your breathing under control, and your heart stops racing.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I don’t think that’s ever happened before,” you swallow thickly, climbing out of the car and following Sam as he pulls your suitcases out.

Sam looks you over and frowns, “now you mention it, I’ve never seen you like this. Did we work out the days wrong? Is your heat due or something?”

You think on it for a moment as Sam leads you to his parents house, and over to the front door.

“I, uh, no. I only had one a two weeks ago. You know I only have one a month, it can’t be that.”

Before Sam can respond the door is pulled open, and a grinning couple fill the doorway.

“Sam! It’s great to see you son.” The older man steps forward and embraces Sam in a tight hug, that Sam returns with a big grin. Before turning to the older woman and doing the same. It’s clear to see they’re his mom and dad. The family resemblance is beyond obvious.

“Mom, dad, this is Y/N. Y/N this is my mom and dad, Mary and John Winchester,” Sam introduces fondly.

“Great to finally meet you, Y/N! Sam has told us all about you,” John smiles warmly, giving you a quick hug which you return nervously.

“We really have heard so much about you, thank you so much for looking after our baby,” Mary grins, and pulls you into another hug.

“Now, come on inside you two,” Mary tells you both, moving aside so you can follow Sam into the house.

“Sammy!” You hear from down the hall, and you follow Sam further into the house, watching as Sam is embraced by a slightly shorter man with sandy hair. You smile at the display of affection. it’s so nice to see Sam surrounded by family, he’d always spoken about them, and you’re guessing this must be the brother he’d told you countless stories about, Dean.

Suddenly Dean looks up and his eyes lock with yours over Sam’s shoulder, you feel like a rug has been pulled from under your feet and you stumble back a little. Your heart thuds painfully in your chest, and you swallow thickly around the lump that’s lodged in your throat. You bite your lip as his nostrils flair and feel yours do the same as his scent hits you, and it’s like you can see his eyes darken before you.

Your words are stuck in your throat, until Mary comes to your side and wraps her arms around you, “Y/N? Are you feeling okay, sweetie. Do you need to sit down?”

Her voice sounds a little distant, like you have cotton wool lodged in your ears, but you hear her faintly all the same.

“Yes, please. Sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me today,” you all but whisper, tearing your gaze away from Dean, as Sam pulls away from him to come and stand by your side.

Mary and Sam lead you into the living room and help you get settled on the sofa.

“Are you okay?” Mary checks again, as she sends Sam away to help his father outside with the grill.

“Y-Yeah, I think so. I think I just need a minute, long drive,” you explain as you try and reassure her, and she nods in understanding.

“Okay honey, if you need anything we’ll just be outside okay?”

“Thank you, Mrs Winchester,” you sigh, leaning back against the soft sofa, and you let your eyes close for a moment. You feel her squeeze your hand and the sofa dips as she steps away.

You suck in a deep breath and your eyes snap open, as an unusual but tantalising mix of scents fill your nose. It’s like leather, spice, oil and something you don’t quite recognise. Then your gaze falls on the door you’d come through earlier, and on him.

You sit a little straighter and shift awkwardly in your seat.

“Hi, you must be, Dean. I’m Y/N,” you practically whisper as he walks further into the room.

He looks you up and down and licks his lips, his gaze heated, like he can see through your clothes and it makes you shiver.

“Nice to meet you, sweetheart,” his voice is almost a growl as he talks, and he takes the seat right next to you, holding out his hand for you to shake.

You take his hand and your eyes lock with his, a complete calmness settles over you and you can feel yourself leaning into him. Dean swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he repositions his hand, so that his fingers are moving between yours, intertwining your hand with his own.

“Alpha,” you whimper leaning in closer, following his lead, until his forehead is pressed against yours.

“Omega,” he practically growls, scooting his body closer to you and breathing deeply, as his free arm curls around your waist tightly, almost possessively.

“There’s something about you… I don’t understand. I’ve never felt anything like this before,” you mutter, almost disbelieving, like if you say it too loud he’ll disappear.

“Neither have I, but I can smell it. I know you’re mine.”

He says it with such finality, and you want to believe him because, fuck, he’s perfect. Gorgeous, strong, great family. But beyond that you don’t know anything about him, you’ve literally just met, but something tells you that you can trust him, that he’s right, and you are his and he’s yours.

“B-But we’ve just met, Dean,” you stutter, as the hand gripping your waist slips just beneath your t-shirt and brushes your skin.

“Don’t care. You’re mine, I know you are. I can feel it, I can smell it, and I know you can too,” he growls as your free hand rests on his thigh to steady yourself.

“I can feel it, in every bone in my body, Dean. But we can’t,” you protest weakly, trying to pull away, but he holds your body tight against his.

He pulls back and looks at your face, “Is it Sam?” he huffs, and you can hear the unease in his voice, you can tell he’s forcing down a possessive growl.

“Why would it be anything to do with Sam? He’s my best friend, and that’s it. We both feel the same,” you sigh as he pulls away further, and you groan as your stomach rolls painfully.

“I’m sorry. You’re right, I’ll let you rest, just pretend this never happened, okay?” he grits out, voice shaking as he backs away slowly.

“No, Dean, don’t. I didn’t mean you had to go!” you call after him, but before you can get up he’s already left, and you hear the back door slam closed.

Dinner had been really great, full of great conversation and stories of Sam and Dean when they were younger, not to mention the amazing food. It only made you more confused as to why Sam never cooked more often at home. But after ten minutes, something had changed with Dean, and he’d gone to eat in his room, claiming that he had to make a call for work.

You’re all now sitting in the living room, while Mary shows you photos of Sam and Dean when they were babies. When suddenly a wave of pain hits you from nowhere, and you grip Sam’s arm tightly.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” he asks immediately, and he looks really worried as he takes you in.

“No. Something’s wrong,” you whimper, wiping at your sweaty forehead with the back of your hand. Sam carefully helps you to your feet and you cling onto him tightly.

“Mine.” Comes a growl from the doorway, snapping everyone's attention away from you and towards Dean.

“Dean? What the hell do you mean ‘Mine’?” Sam questions defensively, putting himself between you and his brother, pushing your body behind him.

“Alpha,” you whine, reaching for Dean, and Sam has to hold you tighter against his side, so you don’t fall to the floor.

Everyone seems to be looking between you and Dean, before John groans quietly, “Fuck, I shoulda noticed earlier. Sammy you need to let her go, son,” he tells his youngest son gently, as he walks towards you and Sam.

Sam looks at his father as though he’s gone mad and holds you tighter.

“No way, clearly Dean’s lost his damn mind, he’s not going anywhere near her. I’ve kept her safe for years, but I didn’t think I’d have to protect her from my own family.”

Your eyes lock with Dean’s and you whimper as he starts to walk towards you, feeling the slick gathering between your thighs.

“Sam. Listen to me, Dean must be her mate. You said yourself that Y/N isn’t due a heat, right?” John asks calmly, stepping between his boys.

“Not for another two weeks, why? What the hell does that have to do with anything?!” Sam exclaims with disbelief.

“Well, your brother has literally just had his rut. So by rights, he was safe, unless…” John trails off, maybe hoping Sam is understanding.

“Sam, please. I need him,” you moan pathetically, as John growls at his eldest son warning him to step back, in an effort to calm the situation down.

“It must be another heat, Y/N, it’s the only explanation. You’re not thinking clearly-” you unintentionally cut Sam off, when a scream rips through your throat and you double over in pain, with Sam’s arms the only thing stopping you from hitting the floor.

Dean whimpers and looks around his father, locking eyes with his brother, looking like a scared puppy.

“Sammy, please. Let me help her,” Dean groans, running his fingers through his sweat soaked hair.

“No. I’m the one who looks after her, not you,” Sam growls defensively.

You’re starting to lose consciousness, and your eyes are heavy, sweat dripping from your forehead. You’ve never felt anything this intense in your entire life. Suddenly a smaller pair of arms wrap around you and help you sit back on the sofa, you look up at Mary, and she’s barely in focus.

“Honey, I need you to focus, look at me okay.”

“Can’t, Mary. I’m so tired,” you slur, feeling the sofa dip the other side of you.

“Doll, listen to me, you can’t fall asleep, you’re burning up.” Comes John’s deep voice from your other side, and you lean into him when he presses a cool rag against your forehead.

“‘mega, tell me what you need, let me help,” Dean whispers, carefully cupping your cheeks in his big warm hands. You force your eyes open, and you can see the pain in his eyes, and the tick in his jaw as though he’s clenching his teeth.

“Alpha, please. Need you, don’t go,” you beg desperately, reaching out and grabbing his shirt in your fists. Dean’s hands cover yours and he tries to hush you gently, and you notice that you’re both alone in the room now. Your legs are still like jelly, so when you try and stand you practically collapse into Dean’s arms.

You nuzzle at his neck and purr as his scent surrounds you, feeling your vision clear slightly as your lips press against his skin.

“Not here,” Dean growls, his voice deep, husky and thick with need as he scoops you up into his arms and carries you bridal style, putting a stop to your attempt to push his shirt from his shoulders.

You clench your thighs together as another wave of arousal grips you, and you feel Dean’s fingers tighten against your body as he carries you up the stairs. When you reach the second door on the left, Dean walks inside and then kicks the door closed behind him. He heads over to the large bed and lays you down carefully, before sitting down beside you, and brushing the sweat soaked hair away from your face. The familiar feeling of your heat coursing through your body is even stronger than it’s ever been before, and you can feel yourself curling around Dean as soon as he lays down beside you.

“It hurts, Dean,” you whimper, hooking one of your legs over his body as he wraps his arms around you and you find yourself rocking your hips against his thigh, trying to find some kind of release.

“Shh, sweetheart, just breathe. You’re makin’ it real hard to be a gentleman right now,” his voice is practically a growl, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

You bite your lip as you look up at him, “I don’t want a gentleman, I want my Alpha. I want you.”

Dean’s arms tighten around you and you feel the growl in his throat right before you hear it, “Fuck you smell good ‘mega. I could smell you as soon as you walked through that door. Haven't stopped thinking about it since I first laid eyes on you.”

“I don’t understand how this all happened so fast, but I know you’re my Alpha, I can feel it,” you whisper as he cups your cheek and you feel relief flood your body when he pulls you into a kiss.

The kiss starts off careful and slow but quickly becomes more passionate, he gently pushes your hands back against the mattress, and you have to clench your fists to stop yourself from touching him.

“Stay there, baby, let your Alpha make it better,” he whispers against your lips between intense kisses that seem to be turning your body to liquid. Dean’s hands are exploring every inch of you, his touch is firm and a little rough, but it’s just what you need right now. You can’t help but moan into his mouth when he starts tugging at your clothes.

When he pulls away from your lips to look into your eyes, you gasp for breath, quickly realising only your panties remain. Dean hums in approval, cupping your breasts in his big hands and he gently flicks over your nipples with his thumbs, biting his lip as he watches your face for a reaction. You arch into his touch, desperate to feel more of him.

“Oh God, fuck,” you whine needily as Dean runs his fingers over your soaked panties.

Dean chuckles deeply, breath hot against your soft skin, and you shiver as he nips at your neck, “you want me to bite down just here,” he nips a little harder for emphasis, and you can’t help but moan as you struggle to nod. You arch your hips and moan his name as he pushes your panties aside, and he eases two thick calloused fingers inside your soaked entrance, slowly edging back and forth until they’re fully inside you.

“Mmm, of course you do, my needy little Omega. You want me to claim what’s mine? Want me to fuck you until you can’t see straight, and you’re coming all over my knot?” You can tell his instincts are taking over, his voice is deeper, and his touch is almost bruising, but in the best way.

Dean rips your panties away from your body with his free hand. You barely even feel the sting of them ripping, only the slight pressure on your clit as he pulls them up and off of you. Then he leans over you, and he starts to curl his fingers inside you, pressing his free hand to your stomach so everything intensifies as he picks up a steady pace. Then his hand shifts and his thumb presses against your clit, your hands immediately reach out, and you grab hold of the first thing you can. Your nails dig into his biceps as you hold on tight, feeling the muscle bulge and relax as he pushes towards release, the look in his eyes makes you want to give in to whatever he says.

There's just something about him being fully clothed and fully in control, while you’re naked and at his mercy that makes the Omega in you purr appreciatively.

Your stomach tightens and your pussy flutters around his fingers as he pushes you towards your first orgasm. You’re breathing heavy and writhing beneath him when suddenly he pulls his fingers free, and your body slumps against the bed, with a sheen of sweat coating your skin. You whimper as you look up at him, wishing you felt a little less pathetic, because you would kick his ass if he was one of the Beta’s you’d slept with before. But this is an Alpha - your Alpha.

Dean chuckles, leaning back as he starts to pull off his clothes, and you can’t take your eyes off of him.

“Oh my beautiful Omega, don’t make all of those pretty little noises right now. I promise I’ll make it better. But the first time you come for me I want it to be with my cock inside you, stretching out this tight little cunt.” You moan at his filthy words as he throws his shirt across the room, he’s perfect, and you can’t stop staring, unable to believe how lucky you are.

“Please, Alpha. I need to come so bad, wanna feel your knot.” The desperation in your voice is clear as you cling to the sweat soaked duvet under you.

His eyes lock with yours as a filthy and cocky smirk curls at his lips. You watch with bated breath as he pulls off his jeans and boxers, and his thick cock is freed from its confines.

“Hmm, am I your first Alpha, sweetheart? Your only Alpha? Is this the first knot you’re gonna take in that perfect little pussy?” Dean sounds far too pleased with himself as he asks those questions, but in the moment they only make you squirm more.

He strokes his cock slowly in one hand as he pushes his other hand between your legs, and his thumb circles your clit torturously slow. You don’t want to stop looking at him, but your entire body is shaking with need. You clench your thighs around his hand, trying your best to stave off your orgasm.

“Dean, please. I can’t hold it,” you whine desperately.

To your relief his hand falls away, and you suck in a breath, feeling the heat of his body pressed against you forces you to open your eyes.

“You ready?” he asks quietly, voice husky and thick with need, and you feel the wide head of his cock pressing against your wet entrance.

You can feel his thighs quivering against your own, it’s pretty obvious he’s holding himself back. You meet his eyes and swallow hard, knowing that you couldn’t go back now, even if you wanted to. You need him, you can feel it deep down.

“Don’t you want me on my hands and knees, Alpha?” you ask, voice breathy, and you shiver feeling his fingers digging into your thighs.

“I’m trying to take it easy on you here, ‘mega, don’t push me,” his voice has lowered to a growl, and you know you’re poking the bear, but you can’t seem to stop yourself, you need him to lose control.

You slowly drag your hand down his chest and stomach, feeling the muscles ripple beneath your touch, and you hear him suck in a breath when your hand wraps around his thick length.

“I can take it, Alpha, want you to fuck me like you mean it.” Dean grunts as your hand moves over him and you turn your head to the side, showing him your perfectly clear skin, free of any scars and stroke your fingers down the side.

“When you claim me, right here-” you don’t get time to finish your sentence, because Dean has pulled out of your grip and his rough hands flip you over and force you on your stomach.

You barely have time to suck in a breath before he’s hauling you up by your hips. Dean spreads your legs and the head of his wide cock presses inside you slowly, but then his hips snap forward, and you scream in pleasure as you lose your balance. Your fingers curl around your pillow and your back arches painfully, as he pulls out almost all of the way and snaps his hips forward again. The grip on your hips tightens, to the point you’re sure there will be bruises left behind.

“How’s that, my needy little Omega?” he growls, wrapping his fingers in your hair and tugging your head back harshly. You can’t speak, you can hardly breathe.

“Ah fuck! Dean, please let me come!” you scream feeling your pussy spasm around his cock when he picks up a steady rhythm, deep and slow, and so hard you feel like your body is going to snap in half.

“Wait. I decide where I claim you, is that fucking clear?” he growls snapping his hips forward roughly.

“Fuck! Yes. Whatever you want, Alpha,” you whine obediently, impossibly close to the edge of a mind shattering orgasm. But even your body is refusing to disobey your Alpha.

“Mmm, good girl. C’mere,” he pants, tugging you back against him by your hair and nuzzling your neck. You don’t struggle, in fact, you find yourself relaxing against him.

“You wanna come all over my cock, sweetheart?”

“Yes. Please, Dean, I need it,” you whine breathlessly, feeling his free hand roam your body slowly, as he cock continues to thrust into you teasingly.

“Then play with your clit while I fuck you. I wanna watch you fall apart, my desperate little ‘mega.”

The sheets are soaked beneath you both, his rut and your heat are in full effect now, and you know you’d do anything he asked.

You drop your shaking hand between your legs and start to rub circles into your clit, feeling your pussy clamp down around his throbbing cock. You cry out when Dean starts to pick up his pace, his thrusts are precise, rubbing perfectly against your g-spot.

“Ah! Alpha, right there!” you practically scream as he roughly tugs your hair, pulling your head to the side, exposing your neck and you feel his teeth gently tug at your skin.

The threat of him claiming you is enough to send you hurtling into the most powerful orgasm of your life. Your body shakes in his arms as he continues to fuck into you, your tight wet heat gripping him like a vice. You’re vaguely aware of the fact that Dean’s wrapped an arm around your waist, keeping you pinned against him because you’ve gone limp in his arms.

“So sexy when you come ‘mega, such a perfect little pussy. You want it, baby girl? You want me to make you mine?” he grits out breathlessly. Your head is swimming as you feel another orgasm burning in your stomach, but his words are enough to make you moan in agreement. Dean chuckles, pushing the sweat soaked hair over one of your shoulders, “c’mon, ‘mega, need to hear you say it.”

You tilt your head to the side again and feel his tongue against your skin, “take me, claim me, Alpha. Wanna be yours.”

“Oh fuck,” he moans sucking hard at your neck, “gonna make me come ‘mega, gonna fill you up,” his voice is a broken rasp as he fucks up into you, his pace brutal.

He lets out an animalistic growl when his own release finally hits, and sinks his teeth into your neck, then you feel his knot swell inside you. His knot catches against your entrance as his cock pulses inside you, pulling another scream from you as your second orgasm shoots through your entire body. Gasping, you both crash down onto the mattress, with Dean’s body wrapped around you.

Your bodies shake against one another as Dean pulls his teeth carefully from your neck, and licks softly at his claim mark. Your heart is hammering in your chest as you take a deep shaky breath, as a feeling of being complete finally settles over you.

Dean presses kisses along your shoulder and brushes his fingers through your damp hair.

“Remind me to buy Sammy a house for bringing you to dinner,” Dean chuckles, his voice hoarse from your time together.

You giggle and lace your fingers with his, his hand feels so big against yours but it feels right.

“Just a house, huh?” you tease playfully.

He presses a soft kiss to your claim mark and he drags his teeth over your ear lobe, “mmm you’re right, maybe a mansion,” he whispers, every word punctuated with a soft kiss and roaming hands. You can’t help but be a little nervous, this is all so sudden. What if he changes his mind about you?

His cock slips free suddenly as his knot retracts, and he turns you in his arms, so that you’re facing him. The soft smile on his face is completely disarming, and you can’t help but smile back.

“I can practically hear you thinkin’, ‘mega. I promise we’re gonna figure all of this out.”

You sigh softly and lean in, kissing him for the first time in what feels like forever. When you pull away his intense green eyes meet yours.

“It doesn’t make any sense, but I trust you, Dean. You and me, it just feels right,” you tell him, and the emotion you’re feeling causes your voice to catch a little.

“That’s because it is. So, what do you say we get ourselves ready and go down to see everyone?, I think we have a little explaining to do, my beautiful Omega,” he whispers tenderly, cupping your cheek and presses a lingering kiss to your lips.

“Probably a good idea, Alpha,” you agree, feeling a blush come to your cheeks as your fingers graze over the claim mark on your neck. You weren’t expecting your life to change so drastically in a day, but you wouldn’t change it for the world.

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bryte-eyed-athena · 3 years

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Afrofuturism in the work of Janelle Monáe

Ashley Clarke, a curator for the Brooklyn Academy of Music, defined Afrofuturism as “the centering of the international black experience in alternate and imagined realities, whether fiction or documentary; past or present; science fiction or straight drama.”

Themes of Afrofuturism can be found throughout the works of Janelle Monáe. Her previous albums like The ArchAndroid and The Electric Lady showcase this through the exploration of androids as a new “other.” Today I want to talk about one of her most recent projects, Dirty Computer, and the way it contributes to the conversation on Afrofuturism. Janelle Monáe released Dirty Computer as an album and a 48 minute long Emotion Picture to draw her audience into a visual and auditory world of her own making. The dystopian future she presents to us is very similar to our own current reality, except that the voices being amplified are those that have historically been silenced. People of color and the LGBT+ community are central in this story rather than pushed off screen. Dirty Computer is so powerful because it focuses on joyful rebellion, love, and freedom in an oppressive dystopian setting.

The project, as Monáe has shared, can be split into three parts: Reckoning, Celebration, and Reclamation.

Part I: Reckoning

gif credit: scificinema

The Emotion Picture begins with Monáe’s character Jane 57821 laying out how her society has begun to capture people deemed dirty in order to “clean” them of their supposed filth against their will. This is meant to produce beings that are stripped of all individuality and ready to conform to societal norms and expectations. Jane tells the audience that, “You were dirty if you looked different, you were dirty if you refused to live the way they dictated, you were dirty if you showed any form of opposition at all. And if you were dirty it was only a matter of time.” The dichotomy between dirty and clean has created a system where an entire class of people can be demonized and oppressed. This foreboding tone at the beginning prepares the viewer for the grim implications of the cleaning process in this universe.

Dirty Computers are strapped to a table and forced to undergo the “Nevermind” which is a program that deletes memories. It is a process that is horrifying because of what it symbolizes to the individual and entire communities of people. To erase someone’s memories is to erase who a person is. The character of Mary Apple 53, Jane’s love interest, shows us just how alien a person can become once their memories are gone. The horror of erasure is also something that marginalized communities have faced for centuries and continue to face today.

In an interview on Dirty Computer, Janelle Monáe said “I felt a deeper responsibility to telling my story before it was erased. I think that there’s an erasure - of us, and if we don’t tell our stories they won’t get told. If we don’t show us we won’t get shown.” Afrofuturism is a response to this erasure of black people and people of color in culture, history, and art. Monáe has made a deliberate choice to tell her story even if it might get erased because if she doesn’t do it then no one else will. Remaining silent would be to assist in that erasure and Afrofuturism is all about refusing to be erased.

This first part of the Emotion Picture is all a reckoning with the Dirty Computers and how they are pushed to the margins. The lyrics in Crazy, Classic, Life speak about how the same mistake made by two people on different ends of the spectrum of social acceptability is punished unequally. Take A Byte follows it with a more upbeat tone, but even then the lyric “I’m not the kind of girl you take home to your mama” speaks to a feeling of being outside social norms.

There are moments of light and joy that are counterweights to the dire situation Jane is in. These come in the form of her memories which are played one final time before they are erased. Jane’s life before she was captured was filled with exploration, youth, love and celebration.

Part II: Celebration

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Dirty Computers seem to recognize that they are living on borrowed time and that any day could be the day they are forcefully disappeared. This is why they fill each moment with as much fun, life, color, and joy as they can. There are many scenes at clandestine parties where Dirty Computers live freely and openly despite the threat of drones or police that could capture them at any moment. It is important to have these scenes of celebration though because Afrofuturism is also about providing hope.

The future must be a hopeful one if we are to strive for it and Afrofuturism allows us to be creative in crafting our visions of a hopeful future. Even though Monáe’s future is dystopian, there is still room for hope and joy because those are the things that make life worth living. These Dirty Computers have to live their lives joyfully because they don’t know when they’ll be sterilized.

In the interview mentioned previously, Monáe added that “I had to make a decision with who I was comfortable pissing off and who I wanted to celebrate. And I chose who I wanted to celebrate, and that was the Dirty Computers.” The LGBT+ community, people of color, black women, immigrants, and low income people have all been mentioned as people Monáe wished to celebrate. This celebration comes intertwined with images and themes of rebellion as expressed in Jane’s memories. Screwed, Django Jane, Pynk, Make me Feel, and I Like That are the songs that embody celebration the best. Whether it's a celebration of sexuality, femininity, unity, or of self love it is all encompassed in these songs. Jane is shown connecting with others and being unapologetically proud of herself. We also see her falling in love with two people, Zen and Ché, and we see them love her in return.

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Viewing these memories and interacting with Jane seems to encourage the questioning of authority. The employee utilizing the Nevermind process seems to question why he should be deleting Jane’s memories at all. Mary Apple 53, previously named Zen, also directly questions their matriarch after speaking with Jane and realizing that she’s connected to her. It all culminates in a nonviolent escape attempt where Jane, Zen, and Ché reclaim their names, bodies, and their lives.

Part III: Reclamation

Gif credit: thelovelylights

The Emotion Picture ends with Jane 57821 and Mary Apple 53 freeing themselves, and their recently arrived lover Ché, from the facility. They escape without harming others the way they themselves have been harmed. By leaving they are reclaiming their freedom and their right to be proud of being Dirty Computers. They refuse the new names that were forced upon them and leave to rediscover the memories of the life they lived before capture.

It is a hopeful ending that plays into the themes of Afrofuturism. Even though both Jane and Zen’s memories were erased they still have the ability to create new memories and stories. Their ability to recreate their past as well as create a new future was not taken away. As they escape the song Americans can be heard in the background. The lyrics subvert the typical American patriotism expressed by racist white southerners. The trope of preserving gender roles and being a gun carrying american are satirized in these lyrics. America as a whole is being reclaimed by Janelle as a place for the people who have been marginalized.

Janelle sings “Don’t try to take my country/ I will defend my land/ I’m not crazy baby/ nah I’m American.” This sentiment is typically espoused by xenophobic americans, but when it is sung by Janelle she is saying that she won’t be forced out of America due to the bigoted beliefs of the people who hate her. She also pleads for the listener to love her for who she is which is something that has been denied to black women for centuries. The song ends with a powerful message of reclaiming America by Rev. Dr. Sean McMillan who said “Until Latinos and Latinas don't have to run from walls/ This is not my America/ But I tell you today that the devil is a liar/ Because it's gon' be my America before it's all over.”

This also shows themes of Afrofuturism since Monáe is reclaiming her history and is refusing to be excluded from it. She is asserting her presence and that of all the Dirty Computers by saying that they too have a claim to America. The Emotion Picture and the album are both a masterpiece of Afrofuturism art and music. Monáe masterfully weaves various musical genres and visual storytelling to show her pride in being a black queer woman. There is no other artist like Janelle Monáe, and I am excited to see what new worlds she will take us to next.

#janelle monae #dirty computer #afrofuturism #dirty computer emotion picture #blog post #space is the place #analysis #media analysis

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lovely-jily · 3 years

Text

"well my legs are jello, so i'd have to disagree"

ok this definitely is no where close to my best writing, i originally wrote it when i was like 15 and i didn't want to start over so i did a shitty revision job. regardless, please enjoy this slightly shitty fic :)

"Alright, everyone. Let's take a shot to start us off," Sirius held up the bottle of firewhisky. It was another Friday night, and tonight the James and Lily got their friends together for a classic game of truth or dare. However, in their version, you take a shot of firewhisky for every dare, and for every truth, a person drinks a little bit of veritaserum, the truth potion. It was brewed by Remus and Sirius (who were quite brilliant if they actually applied themselves to their work), and the ingredients were stolen by none other than Mary and Marlene. James had offered to go with Lily to do it under the cloak, but Lily swore she would never go under that thing with him. Sirius managed to bewitch the potion so that it only lasted a couple minutes, just long enough to answer the truth.

It was the middle of their sixth year, and Lily and James had gotten to the point where they got along quite well, both stubborn and oblivious enough to refuse to think about the apparent tension and feelings between them. Lily was refusing to admit that she was attracted to the git, much less falling for him, and James didn't think that she would ever like him in that way. Regardless, everyone knew that they were bound to get together, and when they did, it would be a historically firey moment.

The group did as they were told, passing the bottle around the circle and taking small swigs. James tried to ignore how Lily's skin glowed in the firelight, and Lily tried to ignore how James's hands looked with the bottle in them.

"First off- James," Sirius faced the boy, who messed up his hair as per usual, "Truth or dare?"

"Dare," James said dauntingly, leaning towards Sirius and smirking.

"Okay. Kiss Dorcus," Sirius said, handing James the bottle.

James took a swift swig, and Lily felt both his and Dorcus's nervous eyes on her. Set in her ways of defiance, Lily gave the subtlest of nods to Dorcus to give her permission and then tried her hardest to fight off the feelings of jealousy as James's hand reached Dorcus's cheek, kissing her softly. After a couple seconds, James pulled away and looked again at Lily, whose face seemed a little too red for someone who "wasn't interested in the slightest for a single date, you insufferable twat." Regardless, James smirked at the idea that Lily didn't seem to like him kissing other girls. Maybe his friends were a bit right after all...

"I've just about kissed everyone here now," James said pridefully. Of course, he was proud of something like that.

"Of course you have" Lily rolled her eyes, feeling the slight buzz of firewhisky.

"Yeah, we kissed one time," Sirius smirked as the boys laughed, "It was last year after a gaome. Best day of my life."

"And we accidentally kissed, so I don't think it even counts," Peter ran a hand through his blond hair.

"He came out of nowhere for ours. I was giving him an answer, and suddenly his lips were on mine," Remus shrugged, a soft smirk on his face.

"I got excited. We had been working on a figured out a terribly difficult problem in Arithmancy," James said, a happy smile on his face. James was many things: annoying, obnoxious, prideful, but one thing that Lily really admired about him was how much he loved all of his friends. He was insanely loyal and treated them like family. She knew he would die for them, and Lily couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to be someone that James would die for.

"Yeah, I'm a super good kisser in case anyone was wondering," James joked as he looked at Lily, who failed miserably at hiding her blush.

"I think it's your turn to ask," Lily said, trying to fight the intense attraction she felt at that moment. As if it didn't keep her up at night and distracted during her classes...

"Alright. Truth or dare, Lily," James said, winking at her, "I can think of a few good dares."

"Looks like I'll have to pick truth then," Lily said, rolling her eyes.

"You're no fun," Mary elbowed her gently.

Everyone laughed, Lily included. She then sighed, grabbed the bottle of veritaserum and took a shot, the honey tasting liquid burning her throat slightly.

"Who's the most attractive one here?" James asked after she swallowed, Besides Pete, of course."

"Oh James, we all know I'm the prettiest here," said a very offended looking Sirius.

"James," Lily sputtered out uncontrollably and then immediately blushed.

Everyone had a physical reaction to what she said, whether it was Marlene's giggle, Sirius's gregarious laughter, or Mary's "Oh, shit!" Everyone was shocked at the sound of James's name coming from her mouth, including Lily herself. James was smirking, his suspicions slightly confirmed. While this didn't mean that she liked him, per se, it at least told that she enjoyed looking at him a little bit. That was a step in the right direction.

"Shit," she said, still blushing, "You're never gonna let me forget that I told you how hot you are."

This got a loud roar from everyone, and James smiled wide, "What can I say, Evans, I can't help it. You know it's quite difficult being this sexy all the time. Don't even get me started on everyone who just uses me for my insanely hot bod-"

"Shut up," she said, glaring at him, the veritaserum was beginning to wear off, but not before her following sentence, "Just because you are insanely attractive does not mean that I like you at all. You're still insanely difficult to be around."

"Well, you admitted you're attracted to me so I think we should give you veritaserum more often," James winked at her.

"Alright, let's keep this moving," Peter said, clearly as over this situation as Lily was.

Lily inhaled and then looked at Mary, "Truth or dare?"

"Hmm, I think we have far too much sexual tension in this room for me to be comfortable doing a dare, so," Mary smiled, "I pick truth for my own dignity."

"You're boring," Marlene snickered as everyone laughed.

"I'd rather be boring than have to snog any of these idiots."

"That's rude," Remus said, trying to hide his smirk as he and the rest of the boys tried their best to show their offence. The looks of pouting and hurt went right over Mary and Lily's head, though.

Lily and Mary giggled as she asked her if Mary had ever had a sex dream about anyone. Mary laughed, saying that she, Sirius, and Dorcus had a threesome in her dreams the other night. Sirius shuddered, saying that there were "too many boobs" involved.

After a few more rounds, Sirius was dared to snog Lily.

So that is how she ended up straddling Sirius on the couch, giggling like a maniac. She was feeling slightly tipsy, and something in her was excited at the idea of maybe making James a little jealous.

"Can I be honest with you?" Sirius whispered in her ear.

"Of course, Pads," She smiled. While Sirius was just as obnoxious as James was, she honestly enjoyed his company. She had gotten to know him as he usually hung out with Remus as they worked on Prefect paperwork. He had a sweet side that he rarely showed.

"Clearly, I don't even like women. I'm only doing this in hopes that you and James stop dancing around each other and just fuck or something," He smirked, still whispering.

Lily glanced over at James, who was biting his lips, scowling slightly. So he was jealous already, and they hadn't even kissed yet. Good to know.

"I doubt that this will work if that's what you're trying to achieve," She looked at him.

He shrugged, "Worth a shot. Besides, I have a theory that we're the best kissers here, so how about we find out?"

"Sounds great to me," She said as she leaned in, her lips softly to his. Sirius's hand found its way to her lower back, the other on her jaw. She felt his tongue tap her bottom lip, and she copied his motion, her hands entangled in his hair.

His hands traced down her spine and on her waist as she pulled him closer. He kissed down her jaw and neck, and she caught a glimpse of James halfway across the room, frowning and looking at his hands. While Lily was kissing Sirius, all she could think about was his best friend. About how it would feel to run her hands through his hair and down his back. How his stubble would feel against her skin. She imagined his hands on her body-

This was ridiculous. Lily forced herself to focus on what was happening currently instead of daydreaming about that idiot.

Sirius's lips returned to her's, and she felt his grip tighten as the kiss turned more passionate. He moved his hand down her waist and to her bare thigh, touching and squeezing as he went. She moved her hands from his hair to his ears and jaw, feeling as they rhythmically moved together, tongues slightly teasing here and there. He kept one hand on her thigh and then moved the other from her waist to her butt, squeezing softly and then back up to her thigh, causing a laugh from both of them.

"Did you like that?" Lily asked, smirking.

"You got quite the ass, Evans," Sirius giggled.

They walked back to the circle, both still laughing. James wouldn't meet her eye, as the fire next to him was suddenly the most interesting thing in the room.

"I was too sober for that," Lily smiled and took another swig of the drink.

"Agreed," Sirius said as she handed him the bottle and took a drink. As he exhaled, he turned to James, "Truth or dare?"

"Dare," he said, looking a little annoyed still. While he didn't like what Sirius did, he knew that it was an attempt to get him to act on his feelings with Lily.

"Take off Lily's shirt," Sirius said, smirking before adding, "But do it as seductively as you can."

The group giggled and gasped while Lily's whole body heated up, "why am I getting brought into all of these?"

"You can say no," Dorcus took another shot of firewhisky.

"Well, I didn't say that I didn't want to," Lily mumbled slightly and stood up. She watched James take another shot and then walk over to her, swallowing to try to hide his nervousness.

"How about this," he grabbed her biceps and guided her to the corner of the room. Her back hit the wall, and their faces were close, less than an inch apart, and the smell of firewhisky and cologne filled Lily's nostrils. Feeling his hot breath on her lips made her feel things she both wanted and didn't want at the same time. Lily focused her eyes on the table in front of her. This was where she usually sat to do her homework or Prefect paperwork.

"This place seems familiar, doesn't it?" James whispered as his cold hands traced her biceps, making her hot skin even hotter. Although he was doing well covering it, his hands were shaking slightly. The only thing separating skin on skin contact was a small, thin layer of Lily's shirt sleeve, rolled to the elbows like James's.

Lily looked up at the ceiling. He was too much of a temptation, and looking at him, particularly his lips, would make her want for him grow exponentially, and it was already hard enough to fight her feelings off without inhaling his cologne and breath.

"This is where I do my Prefect paperwork with Remus."

"Right. And here's my plan," James said, still whispering as he moved his mouth to her ear, causing chills to cascade down her body, "From now on, every time you sit down to do your work, you'll look at the exact spot that I made you want me."

Lily swallowed as she moved her head straight forward, inhaling as his hands moved to her waist and hooked in the belt loops of her skirt, "How do you know that I'd want you? Or that this memory could possibly hinder my focus on my work?" she asked.

"Because now, every time you sit down to work here, you'll start to think of me instead," he rubbed his nose behind her ear as he slowly untucked her shirt, "and I think it's my turn to act as a distraction now."

Her breath hitched as he moved his hands onto her bare waist. They were calloused and traced their way from her stomach to her lower back repeatedly.

"Also," he added, inhaling and bringing his face in front of hers again, his voice dropping its seductive tone, "I'm sorry."

"S-sorry?" Lily sputtered. It was harder and harder to remember how to breathe normally, how to think. She knew he was right, partly. Lately, whenever she looked at him, she was starting to realize how he had matured. How much he cared about people and how much she admired him. She hated change, and perhaps that's why she hated how she felt about him. He was already enough of a distraction, and so this moment was only going to make it worse.

He brought his hands out from under her shirt to her hips. She was fighting to not reflect how she was feeling inside, fighting to keep herself from closing her eyes and biting her lip, to release under his grasp or run her hands over his body. She was fighting the instinct to release her head back and exhale harshly.

"I don't want you to feel objectified. I would rather do something like this at a time where we both wanted it," James said, moving his head to the crook of her shoulder and then to her ear again, "when it's not really forced."

"Well," Lily bit her lip. She was caving. James knew how to tease a girl, "Who says I don't want this?"

She didn't have much time to wonder if that was a good or bad decision to say what she just said. She felt James stop breathing on her ear before the corners of his mouth turned up slightly. He brought his lips to her ear and whispered, "I knew it."

He softly nibbled her ear, moving a hand up to her hair, moving it out of the way as he started planting small butterfly kisses down her neck. She tightly gripped her skirt, forcing her hands to stay stuck to her side.

"Evans," his kisses turned longer, more passionate, and his hand was on her neck, gripping her hair and the other on her waist. She closed her eyes, fought to breathe and then bit her mouth shut, "You're a bit tense."

"O-oh?" She stuttered as his hand moved from her hair to her jaw.

He nibbled the skin at the bottom of her neck, near the front of her shirt.

"And we haven't even gotten close to what the dare was actually about."

She had forgotten entirely about the dare. She also had forgotten there was a small group across the room; it felt like they were the only two people left in the world. She often felt that way with James.

Her hands were clinging to her skirt for dear life, knowing that if they were released for a second, they would be tangled in his brown curls.

"Well, this is just-" She inhaled every few words, "This is just basic- basic human instinct."

James moved his hand from her hip to her bare waist again, squeezing softly and making her fists clench tighter, "Oh, for sure. nothing else."

She closed her eyes and inhaled sharply as he moved his mouth to the top button, undoing it with his teeth and then kissing her chest. He rubbed his nose up her neck as she felt his hot breath breathe against her ear.

"Fuck it," she said, releasing her skirt and bringing her hands to his muscular shoulders, feeling one of the many benefits that quidditch brought James. She really didn't stand a chance resisting him in the first place and honestly felt proud that she had pushed through for that long.

"Hh, hey," he whispered and nibbled her ear again, making her shudder in his grasp. He snaked his hand from her waist over the top of her shirt and undid the second button, "I think we should play this more often."

"I'm sure you do," Lily ran a hand to his messy hair, grabbing a fist full and then released after a second. Her fingers played with his curls while the other moved to his broad back.

He kissed down her neck again, softly nibbling here and there as he made his way to the third button. As his arms moved to her shoulders, he again undid the button with his teeth, "I also haven't done this before, so I hope you know that I'm feeling pretty proud of myself."

"You're pretty talkative," Lily replied. The third button was undone, and he kissed the top of her cleavage, making her instinctively grip his shirt and hair.

"And you're pretty hot," he brought his face close to hers, and they looked at each other. They were both sticky with sweat and had pink faces that showed how quite excited they were. Lily's lip was in between her teeth, and she brought her hand out of his hair and to his neck.

"You're a bit tense, Potter," she joked as she felt his arm muscles, feeling how nervous he actually was, although she found it quite cute.

"Well, my legs are jello, so I would have to say that I disagree," James said, smiling. He brought his face back to behind her ear. His hands found their way to her neck and thigh, softly massaging each.

Lily chuckled as he ducked down, kissing her chest and undoing another button, but instead of bringing his mouth to her skin, which was more cleavage, he moved on to the next, crouching down slightly. She brought her hands to his hair, both of them getting tangled in his messy brown mop. She figured that since her bra was beginning to be exposed, he wanted to stay as respectful as possible. Her stomach felt a flutter at that thought. He respected her enough to not use her for her body... While that shouldn't be such the big deal that it was, she still smiled at it.

He moved his way down, undoing every button as he went. As he reached the bottom, he brought both of his hands to her waist, making her breath hitch as his cold skin touched her sticky skin. He planted a small kiss just above her belly button, then slowly straightened up, eyes closed as his nose and forehead never broke contact with her skin.

When his face was close to hers, she moved her hands from his hair to his neck. His lips were parted slightly, and her lips tingled as his hot breath hit them.

"Lily," he breathed softly.

Her breath hitched, and her stomach twisted when he said her name. This was a normal reaction when he called her by her first name anyway, as it was more sincere; however, when he said her name like that...

"Y-Yes?" she responded, closing her eyes. Her fingers softly played with his hair.

"You are so beautiful."

The moment those words breathed onto Lily's lips, it felt like everything stopped. Time, her intense heartbeat, her breathing. The only thing she could do was smile softly and put one of her hands on his cheek. His hands felt up her bare skin, over her bra and chest before going over her shoulders, sliding under her shirt. Finally sliding her shirt off her shoulders and arms and onto the floor.

She moved her head into the crease of his neck, not surprised at her feeling of disappointment, "I guess we need to return to everyone else now."

"Oh yeah," he said, wrapping his arms around her, "I completely forgot about them."

#jily #jily fic #james potter and lily evans #maruaders #maruaders fic #wolfstar #james x lily #lily x james #harry potter #jily tension #i love you all #jily fan fiction #marauders fanfiction #jily fanfiction

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iguessweallcrazyithinktho · 4 years

Text

Inferno dreams

Summary: A 23 year old girl gets the role she's been waiting to get for years. She didn't know until she got on set that she'll be working with her crush Chris. After weeks of growing clothes to each other and falling in love with out the other ones knowledge you and Chris finally express your feeling!

Chris Evans x female! Reader

Warning: fluff, friends to lover AU, implied smut

Masterlist | word count is 1.9k | Chris request are closed until I clean my inbox out | hope you all enjoy this |

Your heart is racing, palms are sweaty, legs are bouncing as you wait for that all important phone call. You've been waiting your whole life to be an actress. Many years of watching your idols on screen and learning from them how to be a good actor was going to be put to the test today.

After what felt like years your phone rang. You jumped at the sound, quickly picking up the phone. You waited a couple of seconds so that it didn't look as if you were desperate before you picked up the phone.

"Hello." You sounded like you haven't talked in years as you said hello. "Hi, is this y/n?" The voice behind the phone asked. You cleared your throat before you answered yes. There was a brief silence before you heard the voice again. "We'll Miss. Y/l/n you got the role."

You gasped, your hand coming to cover your mouth. "Oh my gosh. No freakin way." The guy on the phone laughed. "Yep you got the role; they're going to need you on set in three days so you can start filming."

You stopped freaking out to say okay, thank you and to hang up the phone. As the call ended you let out a squeal of excitement. You got the role, you finally were an actress.

You felt like crying and screaming at the same time. There were no words to describe how you felt in that moment.

Those three days passed bye with flying colors. On the third day you got up nice and early wanting to look like a million bucks. You ate breakfast, had a nice long shower, did light make-up, and dressed up in some pretty decent clothes. You packed a few clothes because you'll be spending about two month on set.

You left your home around 10am, driving to your new job. The music was cranked up in your car despite it being beginning so early. If people saw you they would've thought you were crazy. You were just super excited.

You arrived on set about an hour later. You parked Your car and got out to grab your luggage. As soon as you shut the trunk a smiling woman with brown hair and a clipboard in her hands, came up beside you. You smiled at her a little confused. "Hi."

"Hi y/l/n, I'm Maria and I'm going to be your assistant. I'll be showing you around and things. Would you like to see your trailer?" She asked in a sweet voice. "You nodded while picking up your two bags. "Lead the way."

Maria led the way to your trailer. When you arrived she opened the door for you and let you walk in. "I'll be back in about an hour so we can go on set and meet the director. Your script is on the couch so you can read it. If you need anything you can just call me."

Maria smiled before she waved bye to you. She shut the trailer door and you took a seat on the couch with a huff. I'm finally here you thought to yourself. You smiled as you picked up the script flipping through the pages. This was going to be fun, you just knew it.

You've been reading your script over for an hour when you heard a knock on the door. You rose from the couch and opened the door to see Maria. "Time to go."

You nodded before you stepped out of the trailer and followed her. You both walked a short way to the main set and entered. The place was buzzing with people, it kinda made you nervous but you kept following Marie.

"Here's the director, steven." Maria stopped in front of a man who was talking to someone else. "Oh my lead actress y/n, it's nice to meet you." He stuck out his hand and you happily shook it. "Hi."

Steven looked over his shoulder flagging someone down. "Y/n I'll like you to meet Chris." You turned to look at Chris who you thought was just a random guy, but when you saw that it was Chris Evans, you gasped slightly. Luckily he didn't catch that and stuck out his hand. "Hi y/n, I heard so much about you."

Holy shit! He knows your name… stay cool.

"Hi Chris." Your hand stayed enveloped for longer than needed which made you pull away as you felt your face heat up. You turned to Maria seeing her smiling, her lips pressed together. She definitely saw what was blossoming.

"Well set starts in a few minutes. While we wait you two can get to know each other. Steven and Maria walked away leaving you two alone. You placed your hand in your pocket, looking down at your feet. "It's very nice to meet you." You Mumbled as you looked up at him before looking back down at your feet. Chris smiled seeing how shy you were. "It's nice to meet you two y/n. I heard this is your first time acting, that's very exciting."

You laughed, "yeah, it is. I've been waiting to be an actress for a while now." Chris nodded, "well you're here."

You and Chris talked for a while. You both talked like you've known each other for years. Your shyness soon faded and you were full on talking to him.

Chris was already liking you. Your laugh made him smile harder than he was before, Your voice was soothing, everything about you made him feel good. He wasn't going to deny his crush that was growing. He's never felt this way about a woman.

Set was soon called and you and Chris soon started acting together. You loved Chris's acting just as much as he liked yours. Your chemistry was felt by everyone on set, Steven was quite happy about that too.

Around 10pm, after many hours of working, the set was done for the day. You left to go to your trailer. You didn't notice at first but Chris' trailer was beside yours and he was waiting to tell you goodnight.

When you saw him you smiled. "Hi Chris."

He smiled as he stood up from his trailer steps. "Hi y/n. Um I just wanted to say goodnight to you." He walked up to you placing his hand on your shoulder. "You chuckled softly as you looked at him. "Well goodnight to you too."

Chris winked at you before he walked off to go in his trailer. You did the same. Once you were in your trailer you plopped yourself in the bed with a smile. Yep, this was fun.

As the weeks went on you and Chris grew closer and closer to each other. He took you out for breakfast and lunch some days, he always helped you with your script, and he always said goodnight to you. You were falling more and more in love with him every second and it was getting to the point where it was hard to keep it in.

Chris felt the same way. He couldn't help but tell his family about you. He was always so energized when he spoke about you; everyone knew it was a matter of time before he asked you out.

Scott always teased Chris about it which pissed Chris off but he knew he deserved it for not telling you how he felt

You were sitting on the steps of your trailer after a night of filming. Chris was just returning when he saw you. "Hi y/n! Whatcha doing?" He came and sat down beside you. "I can't go to sleep." You said as you looked at him.

Chris nodded, "yeah there's days like that."

The both of you stayed silent for a second before you spoke. "Do you want to go inside my trailer and watch some disney classics?"

Chris eyes widened at your proposal. "Sure." You smiled before you got up and opened the door for you and Chris to walk in. You grabbed your laptop and sat down on the over size bed. Chris stood like a lost puppy, not quite sure what to do. You patted the space beside you, "come on sit."

Chris did as you said, sitting beside you. You started up your disney plus and you and Chris debated on what you'll want to watch. After a couple minutes you both settled on Lilo and Stitch. The movie played quietly as you both laid and watched.

Throughout the whole movie you felt Chris glancing over at you. It made you flustered and shy like the first day you met him. You tried your best to ignore him.

An hour later later the movie ended. "Wow that's great like it was when I was little. What do you think ch-," you stopped mid sentence when you saw Chris out.

You felt kinda guilty that you brought him over. He was probably tired and still decided to keep you company. Saint was the world to describe him.

You hopped out of bed and placed your laptop on the floor near your luggage. After that you grabbed a throw blanket and draped it over Chris before you crawled in bed and got under the blanket. You kept your distance from him the whole night thinking he wanted it but Chris didn't.

The next morning when you woke up, Your head was buried in his chest and his bulky arms were wrapped around your waist. You frowned as I tried to figure out how you got there. Chris stirred awake as you did. He was very aware you were in his arms.

"Good morning y/n." His morning voice was raspy sending shivers down your spine. "Good morning Chris." Chris chuckled as he looked down at you. You smiled softly at him. Before you could even think straight you placed your lips on his. God they were as soft as you imagined they'll be.

Chris couldn't help slip his tongue in your mouth. You moaned softly as you cupped his face. The kiss got heated, so heated the clothes were stripped off and love making was made. His body against your body, his moans mixed with yours, and his burning desire to pleasure you was too much to comprehend. He made you feel so good, like you were the only woman in the world. He didn't stop until he pleased you like you should be pleased.

When you both were done he laid down beside you chest rising and falling. You looked over at him seeing a messy haired Chris. "That's so good. I- I have no words."

Chris chuckled as he looked at you. His massive hands came to cup your cheek. "I wanted to do that for a while now." You smiled as he continued. "I wanted to show you how I felt about you, how happy you make me, and how these past few weeks you changed me." Chris ran his thumb over your cheek bone, looking at you with his baby blue eyes.

"Yeah I've been wanting to do that too." You ran your fingers in circles over his chest as you tried not to get nervous.

"Y/n." You looked back up at Chris's eyes. "Yes?"

"I was wondering if you'd be my girlfriend?" He said looking at you. You laughed, "of course you don't even have to ask." You leaned in and kissed him with a squeal.

You never thought in a million years you would be kissing the one and only Chris Evans but you were a damn you were so happy about it.

*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

I'm working on two request rn!

@chris-butt @princess-evans-addict @patzammit @bval-1 @irespostthingsiwanttoseelater @raveviolet @rynabarnesrogers-reading @enn-j @london-dreamer71 @harrysthiccthighss @captainamerica-is-bae @la-cey @weirdowithnobeardo @lovepeacefood @baby-i-am-fireproof @denisemarieangelina @evans713 @smyfmj @thereisa8ella @rororo06 @keiva1000 @ughitsnic @adriannajackson123 @marvelnaturalock @notyourtypicalrose @dummiesshort @onetwo3000 @hhiggs @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @a-little-counter-esperanto

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans imagines #chris evans smut #chris evans x plus size reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans x black reader

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shirophantomvox · 3 years

Text

Hold My Hand- Illumi x Reader

OMG thank you! My first international fan! Thank you for this wonderful prompt! This was requested by @illucilfer .

Summary: Today’s story takes place in a 1950s diner by a frequently used Interstate; Interstate 95. We know this dinner for its delicious hamburgers, hot dogs, milkshakes, and jukebox records, but every night one Patreon never returns home. A few men who were angry about your recent arrest have shot you both. As you both stare at each other exchanging mental signals, everyone around you tries to help you to the hospital. Y/N is narrating the story. I seem to have fewer grammar errors that way. FYI, Bold and italicized font will reference a thought or flashback.

Story Navigation

Let’s get started!

The leaves have turned bright yellow and orange, fluttering every second to the ground. I could hear little children a while away laughing and playing in the community park; throwing up the leaves, jumping into piles, and throwing them at each other. The smell of freshly baked donuts brightened everyone’s mood. All you had to do was take one bite and your face would brighten and crack a smile. Dining at Cupid’s Kitchen will always have your heart and interest.

Interstate 95 was always heavy with traffic during this time of year. The folks of Dallas celebrated mulch annually. The “Mulch Fest” was a street fair that stretched 1.5 miles to the east that contained music, drinks, farmer panels, homemaker Q&A, and other activities that southerners enjoy. Illumi and I are only here because of an unfinished assignment. We have worked night and day for countless days trying to catch Jack “Da Hamor” Gilberton, but he was nowhere to be found. Eventually, I allowed my anger to get the best of me and made the executive decision to take a day off. I barred Illumi from searching, tracking, or any form of hunting for our target. The life of a bounty hunter and an assassin can thrill, but it can drive you insane if you allow it.

Ironically, Illumi and I both enjoy fall. It is perfect for cuddling (although he acts as if he’s too good to cuddle), wearing creative hoodies, going to pumpkin patches, and attending apple orchids. I tend to “lose my cool” when we have dates there. When I was a child, my family did not go on trips like these because they were over an hour away from our home and I had 5 siblings. But once I made money for myself, I made it my mission to go to one at least 5 times out of the year. Illumi enjoys the different fudge, hot cider, and candy apples. He almost broke a tooth on one!

“Say cheese snag-a’-tooth!”

“Stop it. It’s not funny!”

“It is! Could you imagine if you lost your two front teeth? You’d look almost adorable as you did in the 1st grade!”

“How did you know about that?”

“Duh! It happens to everyone, but your mother showed me the pictures, of course.”

“Curses!”

Illumi’s sweet tooth is just like Killua’s; both have a weakness for chocolate. Except, Killua will admit defeat while his older brother keeps denying it.

Cupid’s Dinner has been in Dallas for over 55 years. A black woman established it in 1945 by the name of Mary-Lou Benson. Since then, Mary’s family has been running the shop, making sure all of her customers are happy with the service. During the turn of each season, Cupid’s Dinner gives its customer's food options based on the season. The fall options include donuts, candy apples, different flavored cider, fudge, and hot coffee specials. As much as everything looked appetizing, I could not order it all. Our server, Little Ben, placed our drinks in front of us and handed us the menu. I could tell he was happy with his line of work, just as I was to be with Illumi.

“You all take your time. I’ll be back in five.”

Ilumi glanced on both sides of the room, scanning for Jack Gilberton, already forgetting the agreement we established.

“Illumi, what are you doing?”

“Huh?”

“You keep looking around like you’ve seen Da Hamor. Eat your donut and relax, sweetheart.”

“I cannot relax. I must stay on alert.”

“If I can relax, so can you. It’s not that hard.”

“Fine. If I die, it’s on your head… literally.”

The jingling bell rang almost every second when a customer walked in. It was a joy to everyone's ears; the spirit of Mary Lou-Benson was alive and well. An overwhelming feeling of love seemed to have overtaken the diner. After examining the bistro for quite some time now, each customer had been using their cellphones at the table instead of chatting with their families. Many traditional families hated that about this generation but they should be open to new traditions forming. Illumi dislikes using cell phones or tablets at the table unless we use them for missions. He has emphasized how rude it is to be surfing the web about utter nonsense while someone is speaking. This is a pet peeve of his, something I’ll never step on his toe about. Although I think that is overdoing it, I respect it.

Little Ben served our table quickly, leaving us with two dishes of a classic chicken sandwich, kettle chips, one chocolate, and vanilla milkshake. Milkshakes were my weakness; I nearly foam at the mouth when I see one. When I found out that Illumi had NEVER had a milkshake, I almost fainted.

“No. I’ve never had a milkshake.”

“Huh? You’re missing out, pal.”

“What’s the big deal? Isn’t it frozen milk?”

“Not just frozen milk. You can add many flavors, toppings, and whip cream!”

“Well, then. You’ll have to show me sometime.”

We thanked Little Ben for his service as he clocked out for the day.

“I have to admit these sandwiches look very appetizing.”

“You can say that again!”

Before I nibbled on my sandwich, I wanted to take a moment and adore the man before me; Illumi Zoldyck. A man full of mysteries, professionalism, skill, and talent. His enormous eyes were immersed in the large pieces of chicken in between the sourdough bread. He licked his index finger vigorously; allowing the homemade honey mustard to drip enough from the bread to the plate in between licks. Just the sight of him actually relaxing for once has blown me away. For once, Illumi Zoldyck could be himself and I had the privilege to witness it.

“Um… why are you staring at me? Do I have food on my face,” he asked; violently wiping his mouth off with a provided cloth napkin.

“Oh! Ha, ha; no reason. I wanted to see your reaction after drinking your milkshake. That’s all.”

“Why? It’s just a drink.”

“Whatever you say, babe.”

“Babe? What happened to LuLu or Illumi-Lu?”

I gasped and pretended to be surprised… although I was a little.

“I did not know that you liked those pet names. I assumed it mortified you.”

“Who told you that? That never rolled off my tongue. “What I said was” — He bent closer to the table and to me; glancing both to the right and left to ensure no wandering ears were around — “I prefer Illumi-Lu to be said in the bedroom and LuLu when we’re alone, like how we are right now.”

“Aww…. ok,” I yelled in excitement.

“Don’t blow it out of proportion, alright?”

“Yes, sir.”

As we ate, Illumi hummed along to the tune that played a few times on the restaurant's jukebox. Illumi and I were born in the mid-90s, but listening to 50s music was a part of his aesthetic. I was told that he had an “old soul” which sounds romantic at first until you realize how men were during that era. His raging temper was a noticeable toxic trait, but it has drastically improved. Nonchalantly sipping on his milkshake and then eating more of his chips, he grazed the soft part of his left hand over mine as he continued to hum.

“What’s the name of this song? You seem to know it rather well.”

“Put your head on my shoulder, a famous song from the 60s. I heard my parents sing it once and since then, they have addicted me to it. Do you like it?”

“Yes, in fact, I love it. All of this is—”

“A surprise to you? Well, enjoy it while it lasts because once I find Jack Gilberton, this side of me will hide for a while.”

“Understood.”

Damn! I was just feeling connected to him again!

The music swelled; everyone seemed to be happy. Not an evil spirit insight to disrupt this beautiful moment. For once in my life, my raven-haired beauty actually held my hand tight, stole a few of my barbecue kettle chips, and gazed into my eyes harmlessly. His lips brushed against both of my hands, ever so lightly placing kisses on both sides of them. Illumi’s gentle smile warmed my heart as my lingering thoughts of hope stayed intact.

The welcoming bell jingled again. Two men in black leather jackets, stone-washed blue jeans, and tattooed all over their arms came into the diner. The men seemed to be bikers who had just left their own “spot” but one thing struck me as they continued to walk towards the staff. They both wore sunglasses when the sunset for the day. Not to mention that the lights were not dim in the diner and the moon was as bright as ever. The second man had his eyes glued in my direction. My heart beat faster as I wondered if Jack Gilberton had found us. Could you imagine?

Put your head on my shoulder

Hold me in your arms, baby

Squeeze me oh-so-tight

Show me you love me too

I am used to coming in contact with enemies on my hit list, but given Jack’s criminal history; I felt like I may not survive his attacks. Illumi will survive, but just barely. Both men approached the checkout, crowing over Little Ben’s sister. She was a short woman but full of might, and I could tell by the shakiness in her voice she was frightened. I wanted to step in so badly, but I didn't want to blow my cover just in case it was, in fact, Jack Gilberton. After I assume, ordering food, both men stood by the entrance, blocking it from others from entering and leaving. The sound of their old, beat up-lighters crackled as one lit a joint and the other lit a cigarette. This horrid smell ruined the atmosphere because they were not in a designated area and it drowned out the lovely aroma of the food being served.

“If you gentlemen would like to smoke, you need to go outside. There is no smoking in here.”

“What? You think you’re better than me because you don’t smoke?”

“Huh? I never said that, sir. I asked for you to go outside. Not all of our customers can deal with it.”

They did not move a muscle. The sound of their mucous laughter made everyone’s stomach turn. They laughed at the young girl and called her many slurs. Little Ben’s sister didn’t flinch, nor did she cry; she remained still, staring at the men. I had just enough of their obnoxious behavior.

“If you do not leave, I will call the police.”

“The hell you won’t.”

Put your lips next to mine, dear

Won't you kiss me once, baby?

He drew a gun from his left side. He aimed it at Little Ben’s sister and demanded that she emptied the drawer. She refused. Her stone, iron will reminded me of Illumi; no matter the circumstance, they remained intact, determined to fight until the end. Bravery is always encouraged, but too much will cause your life to be taken away. Little Ben’s sister grabbed a fake till that they kept under the real one and threw it at both men. Fake money fluttered everywhere in the small diner, mimicking confetti. Gunshots rang in all directions as the imbeciles recklessly shot, aiming for Little Ben’s sister. Everyone threw themselves on the ground to avoid being shot, but luck cannot spread itself throughout an entire room of people. A young child, an older man, and another worker were shot in their lower leg. Blood reflected from the ground as it continued to seep. Ignoring injured civilians is a jackass move and continuing to deny the fact would prove that the oath I pledge to meant nothing. Sure, bounty hunters must remain hidden, but if someone is injured, I must help them.

The child was lying lifeless on the polished marble floor. He would not respond to my shaking or my silent whispers. When I rolled him over, my heart broke into a million pieces. This child had no chance of survival; a few bullets struck his chest, one just inches away from his heart. A tear rolled down my cheek.

“Why must the good die young,” I whispered to myself.

“... Because snitches get stitches.”

Before I could gain sight of who stated this utterly corny response, I felt an overwhelming amount of pain in my lower back. It felt like a million tiny needles were jabbed so far through my skin that they entered my intestine. I could still hear, but my body would not move. I tried and tried, but my brain would not signal my legs.

Move! Move, damn it!

It’s odd; I could hear myself talk, but my body would not move at all. The sound of another thudding body made my mind jump. My heart had already been pounding enough to try to resuscitate my organs to move, but a familiar semi-blurring sight of none other than Mr. Illumi Zoldyck cleared my sight. My brain went wild. I didn’t know if Illumi died or if he became paralyzed, but one thing is for sure. We finally made eye contact that felt special; something I hadn’t felt since the day I met him. Our contact felt like magnets; an unbreakable bond. Suddenly, my icy hand felt warmth around my palm and fingers. Illumi simultaneously fell in a way that connected our hands. Our unbreakable bond, the warmth of his fingers laying on top of mine, and the gaze we shared somehow made me feel like it was just the two of us alone. I could hear his thoughts loud and clear; thoughts that came from the heart.

“Please help me. Before it’s too late, LuLu,” I cried, thinking I was going insane. “I don’t want to leave if it means leaving you behind.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Not without you.”

“Please! I want to live a life. Life as a bounty hunter, build a support system to our children, and a good lover is all I want to be.”

“You are a warrior and so am I. We have been through worse. This is nothing.”

Mere eye contact is all we need to exchange wandering conversations. The bond that we’ve created is something so strong that I haven’t realized it until now. The warmth emitted from his loose grasp seems to lose its effectiveness. It blurred my vision beyond recognition, leaving Illumi as a near figment of my imagination.

“Oh no. I guess this is it.”

My vision darkened. Illumi was slipping away as my lingering thoughts almost made my heart give out from exhaustion. I was ready to accept my fate, but it seemed like fate had other plans. My vision was still darkening by the second, but my sense of touch remained there. Smooth fingers outline my arms, torso, and chest. I heard muffled voices yelling and screaming about calling for assistance, but I didn’t care if they came or not. I made peace with my life’s end. Bit by bit, my breathing slowed down, but my sense of touch remained heightened. I felt a rubber glove touch my face and neck, examining it for any damage.

The jukebox continued to play Illumi’s favorite song, Put Your Head on my Shoulder. I remembered the day I laid my head on his shoulder; boy, what an endearing moment that was. It was something I took for granted, something I should have savored, for I never knew that this moment would have happened. The song grew muffled by the second verse. That verse repeated every time I tried to force myself to take what felt like my last gaze at my raven-haired beauty.

Just a kiss goodnight, maybe

You and I will fall in love (you and I will fall in love)

-FIN.

A/N: Since you’ve made it to the end, I’ll say something. The reader did not die in the end. They were later revived at the hospital.

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plant-flwrs · 4 years

Note

Hiii, i love your writing. I was wondering if you could do a remus lupin imagine. Were its mutual pinnin but they dont know the other like them. And sirus gets tired of it and takes pollyjuice to look like remus and get you to confess🥺

under the mistletoe // remus lupin

masterlist!

a/n: oh my god i’ve been non-stop reading atyd and it is my new obsession. it’s completely canon to me now. ty for ur request! i used they/them pronouns because you didn’t specify, so i hope that’s alright <3 oh! also! im gonna try this new thing w my fics to see if they flow better that way; instead of just jumping in time i’ll put a little indicator (-). wanted to try it out, dunno if i’ll keep using it. i’m so excited for christmas and this put me in an even more christmasy mood omg

summary: Staying at Hogwarts for the holidays seemed like the best way to avoid distractions, but with the Marauders there, distractions were guaranteed. Especially when your crush on Remus proves to be incredibly distracting.

cw: underage drinking (hangover vomiting), swearing (harmless, classic Sirius things)

(8k) (haven’t written this much in so long wow i forgot i could)

----------

The Gryffindor common room was your most favorite place in Hogwarts. It was warm and comforting, and you had some of your best memories there. With just a glance around the room you could feel your entire school career in just one room.

Though, now that you were in your sixth year, it wasn’t the leisurely place it used to be.

All around you, books touched any bare surface there was. N.E.W.T.’s were sooner than you’d like, sooner than anyone liked, and you were filled with anxiety. You knew your strenuous studying was a bit soon, but you felt like you had the weight of the world on your shoulders.

You felt so stressed, in fact, that not even Lily Evans could convince you to go home for the holidays that Christmas.

“Exams are months away, Y/n!” she sighed as you fell down onto the couch beside her, narrowly returning before curfew from the library, “You ought to enjoy Christmas.”

“I will enjoy it. Here,” you said, rolling your head back and closing your eyes.

You felt sore, as if you had run a marathon, but you had been locked away in the library all day.

Part of you, the smallest part, blamed Remus Lupin for this newfound obsession. Your fellow Gryffindor, the most studious boy in your year, was the initial reason for your new studying habits. You had started going to the library in an attempt to steal glances at him, an innocent crush that you most definitely let overcome you.

Remus had always gone to the library, you knew that, but ever since your O.W.L.’s he seemed to take extra pride in his work. You couldn’t blame him for secluding himself in the library, for that was the only place on campus that it seemed his rowdy friends did not go.

“You can’t enjoy Christmas alone,” Lily tutted, pulling the massive textbook off your lap and putting it on the table in front of you.

“You’re staying for the holidays, too?”

Sirius had just bounded down the stairs from the boys dormitories, his usual mischievous smirk on his face.

“Yes, they are,” Lily answered for you, turning to look at Sirius as he hovered behind you near the stairs.

“Well, that’s lucky,” he said, acting as if he had a secret he took pride in no one else knowing.

“Why is that, Sirius?” Lily sighed, becoming annoyed.

“Remus, James, Peter, and I are staying, too,” he said, smirk turning into a boyish smile.

“You are?” you opened your eyes and turned to face him, finally.

He met your gaze and nodded excitedly, seeming to already have the Christmas spirit in him.

“So you won’t be alone!” Lily said excitedly, then turned towards Sirius with a more dull tone, “Not the best company, but at least not alone.”

Sirius scoffed in mock offence, scrunching his face up with imaginary tears as he stomped back up the stairs.

“God, that lot is so bizarre,” she groaned, turning back to you on the couch to see you dozing off.

(-)

Snow fell on the grounds of Hogwarts, and you gazed at it from a fogged up window in the library.

Lily had gone, Mary had gone, Marlene had gone, just about everyone had gone. You had never stayed at Hogwarts for the holidays before, and you knew not many people did, but you expected more than there were.

No Slytherins had stayed, which was a welcomed absence from those who did. You knew the two Hufflepuffs that remained, but only because you had classes with them in your fourth year. The Ravenclaws that stayed, there couldn’t have been more than five of them, were often holed up the in the library with you. There were the most Gryffindors, five, including you and the marauders.

You were almost surprised that James had gone through with staying; Remus had mentioned wonderful things about the Potters and the Christmases they hosted. Still, he was here, cheerful as ever.

As your eyes blurred with tiredness and the window became nearly too fogged to see through, you sighed in frustration.

You missed your family, you missed home, and you really regretted staying at school. You decided to give yourself the day off from studying. With a glance down at your watch, you saw it was nearly lunch time anyways. You had slept in and missed breakfast, coming straight to the library, and your stomach felt empty.

You made your way to the common room, wanting to drop off the heavy books you had accumulated. Mumbling the password to the portrait, you stumbled through without noticing the rowdy conversation coming towards you.

You ran right into James’ chest, stumbling back and already mumbling an apology.

“Y/n?” he asked happily, as if he had been looking for you.

“Hey, guys,” you sighed, forcing a polite smile when all you really wanted to do was collapse on the couch and sleep for days.

“Sirius told us you were staying, but I’d thought you’d changed your mind. Haven’t seen you since the holiday started!” James’s booming and joyful voice made you want to cringe away, but you couldn’t manage anything less than a small smile at his kindness.

“I’ve been in the library,” you explained, chuckling at the horrified look on three of the four faces.

“You’re worse than I’d thought,” Sirius started, cut off by a sharp elbow to the ribcage by Remus, which only seemed to encourage him.

“We can’t have that,” James finished for him, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

“Oi,” Remus started, casting a sympathetic smile at you as he tried to stop his friends from potentially insulting you.

“Why don’t you come have lunch with us?” Peter squeaked from behind James as he glanced at the two dark-headed boys for some sort of approval, “We were just on our way down.”

“What a great idea, Wormtail!” Sirius boomed, earning himself another elbow to the side from Remus.

You glanced nervously at the boys in front of you, trying to discern if they were setting you up for a joke or teasing you.

“You don’t have to-” Remus blurted out, his cheeks pink, “-I mean, if you’re busy with your studies. I know how hard your working-”

“Nonsense, Moony!” James smiled, levitating your bag off your shoulder and easily landing it on the floor somewhere behind him, “they have to eat!”

You chuckled, ducking your head down as James slung his arm around your shoulder and escorted you back through the portrait hole.

You felt lighter immediately. Whether it was the absence of your heavy bag, or the way the boys’ easy conversation and laughter felt so inviting and warm, you did not know.

The self-pity you had been feeling only a moment ago seemed to go, too. James kept his brotherly arm around your shoulder all the way to the Great Hall, where he split his path and sat across from you. Sirius followed you down the isle, continuing his teasing conversation with Peter. James sat between Remus and Peter, his smile never faltering. He acted as if eating lunch with his mates and their tag-along was the best thing he had ever done.

Remus was quiet, almost shy, but you knew that. You had known him your entire time at Hogwarts, and the crush you had on him seemed to last that whole time. You had seen him come out of his shell as the years went on, but he didn’t seem nearly as comfortable as when he was with his friends.

You stifled your laughter with the back of your hand, blushing slightly at Sirius’s rude joke as he bumped his shoulder into yours. You looked down at your plate, pushing around the mashed potatoes that had grown cold.

“Sirius!” Peter yelped, his eyes wide in shock as he nervously glanced to you.

Sirius had made a crude joke, you knew that, but you hadn’t heard it. You and Remus had been meeting in short bursts of eye contact and the small action alone was making your spine shiver.

You looked up from your potatoes, seeing the boys fading with laughter and delve back into their food. That was something you never understood about boys; they sat down, ate and ate until they were done, and then got to talking. You, Lily, Marlene, and Mary could talk for hours while you ate, but the boys seemed unable to do more than one thing at once.

The thought brought a fond smile to your face, and you felt something bump against your shin. Looking up from your plate, you met Remus’s eyes again.

“What’s got you smiling?” he asked, his voice kind with a teasing nature behind it.

James looked up from his plate in the middle of shoving what had to be an entire chicken breast in his mouth, and began cooing at you as your cheeks flushed.

“’M just happy you lot stayed,” you blushed, refusing to meet Remus’s eyes, “would have been dreadful without your company.”

Sirius, without missing a beat, threw his arm around your shoulders and drew you into his chest. His large hand went to your head, ruffling up your hair. You cringed away, giggling and attempting to lay your hair smooth.

Everyone’s cheers in agreeance died down, and James roped Sirius into a heated discussion about Quidditch as Peter hung onto his every word.

“‘M happy you stayed, too,” Remus mumbled from across the table, his head ducked down as a blush was creeping up the back of his neck.

You fought the urge to break the eye contact, giving him a smile so wide that your cheeks burned.

You all returned to the common room with full stomachs and wide smiles, courtesy of James, who had just announced his newest plan at getting Lily’s attention. You just finished listing off all the reasons she would hate it, and he clambered through the portrait hole with a dazed smile that a lovesick puppy would have.

You trailed behind the boys, watching them all fall onto comfortable couches and armchairs. You looked at your limp backpack indignantly, choosing instead to follow them.

You curled up in an armchair that was across a large couch occupied by James and Sirius and to the left of another armchair occupied by Peter. Peter leaned forwards to rest his elbows on his knees, setting up a new chess game for him and Remus to play. Remus sat on the ground, eyelevel with the board. He noticed you looking at him and gave you a kind smile that made you look away, blushing.

The night was spent in leisure. You had barely wanted to get up for dinner, even Sirius suggested making Peter go down to the kitchens so they wouldn’t all have to go to the hall. In the end, you all went, having just as much of a good time as you did at lunch.

You wished them a goodnight after you fell asleep watching Sirius and Remus levitating the most valuable things they could find in the room, sending Peter into anxious fits every time they pretended to loose their balance. You groggily walked up the stairs to the dormitories, leaving your homework downstairs with a satisfied sigh.

For a few moments before you fell asleep again, Remus’s brilliant and bright smile was burned behind your eyes.

(-)

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Sirius groaned, throwing himself dramatically onto the couch with a huff.

“Shud up,” Remus groaned, falling into the armchair you had been sitting in. He could smell you on the chair, your scent floating into his nose like it was intoxicating.

“Really botched that one, mate,” James said with a chuckle, picking up a few of his Quidditch magazines off of the floor and putting them back on the coffee table, where Peter had accidentally knocked them off.

“Romance is confusing! How was I supposed to know?!” Remus groaned, lifting his head from his hands with a desperate look.

James gave him a knowing smirk, and Sirius groaned again.

“It was obvious! You always offer to walk a romantic interest home,” Sirius said, twirling his wand in his hand.

“They were just going upstairs,” Peter mumbled, seeming to agree with Remus.

“It’s alright, Moony,” James said, standing from the couch with a look of determination, “you’ve got all week to seduce them.”

“Shud up,” Remus groaned, repeating his request from earlier.

His eyes fell to the stairs you had climbed moments ago, remembering the peaceful look on your face as you slept, the adorable stretch you did once you woke up, the tired way you climbed the stairs, and that beautiful smile you gave them when you said goodnight.

Remus decided to stay in the common room for a bit longer once his friends had went upstairs, trying to force every second from the time you spent together that day into his memory permanently.

(-)

You woke up feeling more rested than you had in weeks. The sun was barely in the sky when you opened the curtains, your unusually empty room flooded with orange light. You dressed quickly, donning muggle clothes that you found incredibly comfortable.

You went down to the common room, seeing that the mess the boys had made last night was either cleaned by them or house elves. There was no sign of life in the Gryffindor tower, besides yourself, so you assumed the four were still soundly asleep upstairs.

You found your backpack, overflowing with loose papers, and shrugged it onto your shoulders. You had decided to get some work done today, seeing as your day off the day before was not scheduled.

You ate a quick breakfast in the empty hall, finding it odd and strangely discomforting to be in such a large room by yourself. It felt as if you were out past curfew.

The library was the same case. Madam Pince was not even at her desk yet, and you settled into a table by the window. You opened it a sliver, enjoying the cold winter air that seeped into the room. The sunlight warmed you, and the wind was gentle enough to not rustle your papers.

You dove into your work, feeling considerably better than yesterday, or the past month. Your muscles were loose, and the pressure you had been putting on yourself was no longer there. One night of fun proved to be harmless, and so did the marauders.

You smiled at the thought of it, at the thought of your little day with Remus. He had been so kind to you, so funny and charming. You had never liked someone as much as you liked Remus.

You found your gaze drifting out the window, looking past the castle and Hagrid’s hut and out into the Forbidden Forest. You couldn’t think of anything but the curly headed, dirty blonde boy. The way his eyes nervously darted to yours, his sheepish smile. The way he could easily make James, Sirius, and Peter fall into doubled-over laughter, almost as if good-naturedness came to him as easily as walking did.

The sun rose in the sky, and it was almost time for lunch. Even with your mind distracted, you had gotten done more work than you had expected. You decided that if the boys asked you to have lunch with them again, you wouldn’t decline.

It was as if your thoughts were read, because just as you were organizing your papers to put them away, Remus walked into the library. You fumbled a bit, realizing you smudged some fresh ink on your newly written Potions notes. You didn’t care, though, smiling widely and waving Remus over.

“Alright?” he asked groggily, rubbing his eyes as if he had just woken up.

“Yeah, you?” you couldn’t help but stare at him. His voice was deep and thick with sleep, and he pulled the sleeves of his sweater over his slender hands. He had a muggle novel tucked under his arm, and he put it on the table as he sat down across from you.

“Eh,” he started, looking at you with slight amusement, “James woke up at the crack of dawn to go to the pitch, and he woke up Sirius when he did. Sirius is a git if he gets woken up before noon.”

“That’s not a surprising piece of information,” you chuckled, setting down your papers and getting comfortable in your seat again.

“Yeah, best to stay out of the dorm when Sirius is in a mood. Peter went to ask for some extension on a paper he forgot to do,” Remus smiled fondly at his friends flaws, opening his book and propping it on his knee, “so I figured I’d come find you.”

“You found me,” you opened your ink bottle and dipped your quill into it, going over your Potions notes and fixing the smudged ink.

You were a bit disappointed by Remus’s reasons for coming to see you. Part of you had hoped he missed you, or enjoyed your presence. But the truth was that you were his only other option for company. Your chest deflated slightly as you stole a glance at him only to find him deeply invested in his book. Many conversation starters bubbled in your throat but you couldn’t bring yourself to voice any of them.

It was about an hour of silence in the library before Remus suggested lunch. He helped you pack up your things, humming under his breath as he led the way out of the library.

Lunch was soup, which you didn’t mind too much. Sirius was already at the table with James when you arrived. Remus sat next to you, across from his friends.

Sirius had his head propped up in his hand, lazily bringing soup to his mouth before dropping the spoon into the bowl with a clatter as his eyes fluttered shut. James rolled his eyes, shoving the bowl of soup away from him and wiping up the splattered mess from the table.

James eagerly dove into a cheery conversation about his solo Quidditch practice, and Remus reluctantly listened. You felt as exhausted as Sirius looked, even though you had a wonderful nights sleep. You hadn’t felt so tired until your upsetting thoughts about Remus, but now you could barely keep your eyes open. You hadn’t been sitting for more than ten minutes, your soup was barely eaten, but you just wanted to curl up in your dorm.

Peter came into the hall, filing down the row where you had Remus were sitting. He was getting close, and you stood.

“Here, Peter, have my seat,” you said, slowly standing as James’ face contorted with confusion. You could see him working out pleas for you to stay, and your heart warmed a bit.

“I’m gonna have a lay down,” you excused, not waiting for Sirius’s head to lift from his hand or for James to suggest all of you walking back together.

As you walked away, you heard Peter begin to chat about his essay extension.

(-)

Remus knew he had done something wrong. He knew it.

You had seemed happy to see him, you smiled at him, you were friendly, but at some point he said something to make you close off. He was looking forward to spending the morning in the library with you. He had made up the excuse of getting out of the dorm, knowing that with Pete and James gone and Sirius out cold, it would be fairly peaceful. Remus, however, wanted to see you.

You looked heavenly dressed in casual muggle clothes with the morning sun lighting your face. He was happy to sit with you, but you didn’t seem happy to sit with him.

He wondered if you were bothered by him and his friends. If yesterday hadn’t been as fun as he thought it was, and if you just wanted to be left alone. He felt a surge of annoyance with James for being so forward, but quickly drowned that out. It wasn’t James’s fault.

Remus stared into his bowl of soup, not listening to Pete as he complained about the essay he had to write.

James indulged Pete, listening to his complaints with sympathy as he dipped his bread into his soup. Sirius, however, could not be bothered.

He had come to attention when you left the table, watching your hunched shoulders and nervous hands pushing your hair off your face. He had even caught your sad glance over you shoulder at Remus before you finally turned to go upstairs. Sirius was thinking, he was thinking hard. He could read you and Remus like an open book. He had known you liked Remus since you started showing up to the library whenever Remus did, no matter how subtle you thought you were being.

Sirius looked at his friend, confusion knitted in his eyebrows as he hunched over his food. He gasped silently, catching James’s attention, as his eyes lit up with an idea.

(-)

For the next couple of days, it was not hard to avoid your fellow housemates. James and Sirius seemed to be sneaking off as often as they could, clutching their cloaks close to them as if they had something underneath them.

You avoided Remus, who presumably only had Pete to keep him company now, by staying in your dorm. The library wasn’t the only place you could study, and you spread your books all across Lily’s bed. You had begun to enjoy studying in your dorm, it was private and quiet, with no Madam Pince staring you down from her desk.

It wasn’t that you disliked the marauders’ company, because you didn’t. You really liked hanging out with the boys. You had just wanted to prevent any more heartache when hanging out with Remus. You had obsessed over your last interaction in the library, convincing yourself it would be best to stay away from the boy as to not attach yourself any further.

It was nearing the weekend, Christmas on the upcoming Saturday. You didn’t want to be in solitude on Christmas, but your pride prevented you from asking to hang out with the boys. You didn’t know what Sirius and James were up to, and you didn’t want to know. You didn’t feel like hanging out with Peter, because being in his presence alone made you just as anxious as he was. And Remus, Remus was an entirely different story. Just seeing Remus made your heart race unnervingly.

On Thursday night, you crept down the dormitory stairs and into the common room. You stopped and waited to hear for Peter and Remus, but it seemed they were still in their room. You were going down for an early dinner, hoping to eat quickly before everyone else came down.

You seemed to be successful, your plate was nearly cleared and there was no sign of anyone else. You were serving yourself pudding, your favorite pudding, when someone sat across from you.

You looked up. Your throat closed involuntarily, and your spoon froze on it’s way to your mouth. You straightened your back, eyes widening at the sight of him, and wiped your mouth nervously with your napkin.

“Hey, Remus,” you said, smiling politely at him as he began to dish himself food, “where are the rest of the boys?”

“Just me,” he said, his voice sounding a little higher than usual.

“Are you alright?” you watched him carefully as you noticed his posture was straighter than usual.

“Yeah,” he chuckled, looking at you now.

You looked at him, squinting your eyes. He seemed off, but you figured he could be nervous without his friends around.

“Okay,” you trailed off, returning to your pudding.

“Haven’t seen you much, recently,” he said confidently, the usual softness in his voice absent.

“I’ve just been up in my dorm,” you said, still gazing at him cautiously.

“Don’t want to spend time with Sirius, James, and I?”

You bit your lip, looking at him with a serious expression. Remus never excluded Peter when he was talking about his friends, but Sirius often did. You noted it, unsure what that could mean. Had Remus asked Sirius on advice at how to talk to you? The thought made you suppress nervous giggles.

“No, it’s not that,” you felt your cheeks warm under his blatant stare, “you know how crazy I am about the N.E.W.T.’s.”

Remus chuckled under his breath, slowly eating his pudding. This was also weird, because Remus usually devoured any food in front of him as if he was a starving animal.

“Remus, are you sure your alright?” you squinted at him, dropping your spoon and propping your chin up with your hand.

“Yes, I’m fine,” he said nonchalantly, squinting back at you.

He had remarkably less patience and ease than usual.

“Okay, well, I’m done eating. I think I’ll go back to the tower now,” you stood slowly, watching his face contort with urgency.

“Wait!” he called, standing too, “wait, come sit for a second.”

You joined him again, clearly suspicious. You wondered if he was distracting you while the boys set up a prank.

“I need to ask you something,” he whispered seriously, leaning closer to you over the table.

“What?”

“Do you fancy me?” he smirked at you, mischief in his eyes.

At first you wanted to shrink away, blush madly and sputter out lies to conceal your true feelings. But you didn’t. You kept his stare, a blank face looking into his daring one. You decided to make a guess.

“Sirius?” you said confidently, so it didn’t sound like a wild guess. You knew it was crazy. Surely, Sirius would never transfigure into his best friend to eat dinner alone with you and ask him about your feelings for him. Surely.

“How did you know!?” he asked, his voice now completely Sirius’s instead of his weird imitation of Remus’s voice.

“What!?” you questioned back, surprised that you were right, “It’s actually you, Sirius?”

Sirius’s face, well, still Remus’s face, dropped with disappointment, upset that he gave himself away.

“Yes,” he mumbled, moving his hand to tuck his hair behind his ear, only to remember Remus’s hair wasn’t that long.

“What are you playing at? How did you do this?” you motioned your hands at him, sounding more amazed than angry.

“Polyjuice Potion,” he said mischievously, his eyes meeting yours at the tone of your voice.

“That’s really advance stuff, Sirius,” you said, slightly impressed as you leaned back and crossed your arms.

“I had some help,” he said sneakily, and suddenly what he and James had been sneaking off for made sense.

“Are you two planning something? Testing out the costume on me?” you said excitedly, hoping the boys would let you in on whatever prank they had planned.

“Well, about that,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “you sort of were the plan.”

You looked at him, confused. It felt weird to be talking so casually with Remus, and you fought the urge to blush every time he looked at you, knowing it was actually Sirius.

“I know you fancy Remus,” Sirius said, sounding a bit guilty.

This time, you could not resist shrinking away and blushing. You looked down at your lap, feeling incredibly embarrassed.

“But,” Sirius started again, his voice oddly comforting and kind, “I know Remus likes you, too.”

Your eyes shot up to meet Sirius’s, your face becoming somehow even more flushed.

“You were trying to get me to admit it to you? That I like him?” you asked him, heart racing.

“I just wanted you to confirm it,” he said, sounding even more guilty, “I didn’t want to try and set you two up if you didn’t like him back-”

“Set us up?!” you interrupted, eyes wide.

“Yeah,” he said casually.

“How do you plan on doing that, then?” You tried to sound annoyed in an attempt to hide just how excited you were.

Sirius had waved over James immediately, who has hiding behind a pillar in the courtyard looking in on you and Sirius. The two began talking almost as animatedly as two schoolgirls stricken with an exciting prospect of romance.

You watched, lazily propping your chin on your hand as they rambled on about the ways they thought you should confront Remus.

James had been quite keen on them influencing Remus to confront you, and Sirius reckoned you ought to “grow a pair” and kiss him yourself. James was nearly affronted by the idea, insisting on a classic and romantic gesture from Remus’s behalf.

Either way, you couldn’t fight an embarrassed blush that seemed permanently glued onto your cheeks. You swallowed heavily at any mention of kissing, which was being discussed at length. You had half a mind to stop the hopeful ramblings, but James and Sirius were Remus’s best friends, they had to be somewhat right about his feelings for you.

The conversation got remarkably easier, too, once the potion had warn off and it was Sirius in front of you instead of a fake Remus.

You looked into the courtyard, enjoying the cold air lofting into the room through the open doors, when you noticed Remus and Peter entering the room. The cold air had been helping in cooling your cheeks, but at the sight of Remus’s wide and carefree smile, they warmed immediately.

“Shut up!” you mumbled harshly to the still ranting dark-haired boys in front of you, kicking them each in the shin for good measure.

They looked offended, but Sirius caught your eye and smirked once he realized why they were silenced.

“Have you guys eaten already?” Peter asked, sounding disappointed as he sat next to you and saw your empty bowl of pudding.

“Just had an early lunch,” James said merrily, moving to scoop himself another bowl of pudding after he had eaten an entire lunch while he and Sirius were talking, “but we’ll stay while you guys eat.”

You swallowed hard, looking at James with wide eyes as he quirked an eyebrow at you. You were planning on leaving the second Remus sat between James and Sirius, right across from you, but now you couldn’t be so obvious.

“Haven’t seen you in a while, Y/n,” Peter mumbled from beside you, stuffing his face with a large heaping of peas.

You looked to Remus almost automatically, only to see him looking questioningly at you. You couldn’t resist the small smile that flirted on your lips as he averted your gaze quickly.

“I can’t get much work done with you lot around,” you teased, clearing the table in front of you and resting your elbows there, “I’ve been in my dorm, most days.”

“What about for Christmas?” Peter pried curiously, “Will you leave your dorm for Christmas?”

“Of course they will!” James boomed from across the table, causing a few tired looking Ravenclaws who were just coming in to glare at him apprehensively, “Starting Christmas Eve, they won’t be able to get rid of us.”

“Oh,” you looked to him, eyebrows raised in entertainment, “I won’t?”

Remus looked between you and James with an excited smile.

“Of course not,” Sirius said for James, picking a carrot off of Peter’s plate from across the table.

“For a limited time,” James said mysteriously, “you will have the honor of becoming a temporary Marauder.”

“They what?” Peter said from his goblet of pumpkin juice, causing some to splash back in his face.

“Peter!” Sirius groaned, annoyed with the boy, “Get in the holiday spirit!”

“Don’t worry Pete, just for a limited time. The holidays are a season of extending great charity to others,” James said, talking with humor in his tone.

“Charity?” you repeated, an amused smile on your face.

“We don’t let in just anyone,” Remus said, looking only at you.

When your eyes met his, you felt all the air leave your lungs. Your jaw clenched in an attempt to gather some sort of consciousness, but all you could do was look back at Remus.

“That’s true, ‘tis a great honor,” Sirius had raised his goblet in some sort of toast, and you had barely noticed until Remus was raising his glass.

You broke the contact, finally, and sputtered for a moment before you could find your goblet on the table. You rose it, hoping to lower it quickly as you noticed a slight tremble in your hand. Remus connected his goblet with yours gently, looking at you again while you were intent on avoiding his eyes. He had some sort of knowing smile on his face, and you felt very exposed to him. It felt like he was reaching in your chest and squeezing your heart for his own pleasure, and it scared you to know you could not tell him to stop.

(-)

Christmas Eve was very celebrated amongst the boys.

So celebrated, in fact, that Sirius insisted Christmas morning was a day for hangovers.

He had brought out the firewhisky fairly early into the afternoon. James had looked at him with nervousness, but nonetheless took a heaping sip when offered a glass. You sipped casually, not feeling all too comfortable with the chaos that seemed to lurk in Sirius’s eyes.

By the time the sun was beneath the horizon, Sirius and James were dancing some sort of Irish jig on a table, and Peter was very angrily talking to himself in a mirror. You and Remus, neither of you having very much to drink, sat comfortably on a couch, watching the night unfold.

“Why aren’t you drinking with them?” you asked Remus, glancing at his full cup and tensed shoulders.

He glanced down at you, nervously biting his lip and running a hand through his hair. Oh, how you wanted to touch his hair.

“I don’t really feel like being hungover on Christmas,” he said, noticing your full cup as well, “what about you?”

“I don’t think Lily would ever forgive me if she found out I got drunk with you lot on Christmas Eve,” you teased, smiling to yourself at the fond thought of your friend.

“I miss Lily,” Remus remarked simply, bringing his cup to his lips and taking a large gulp.

“Me too,” you sighed, doing the same and hoping it would ease your nerves, “she wrote to me yesterday. She’s having a lovely Christmas. Her sister is being awful, but that’s per usual.”

You and Remus shared a knowing smile, both thinking of the complaints you had heard from Lily about her sister.

“Have you written back yet?”

“No, not yet. I was going to wait until after Christmas,” you were waiting to write Lily back so you could thank her first for the undoubtedly wonderful present she got you. You didn’t know how, but Lily Evans always gave the most thoughtful presents.

“When you do, tell her we miss her,” Remus said softly, his cheeks beginning to flush pink as he watched with a smile his friends dancing.

You nodded, ducking your head to hide a smile.

“Oi!” James yelled, stopping his dance suddenly.

You and Remus froze as he looked at the pair of you, each wearing an entertained smile. James hopped off the table with ease, as if he was not drunk out of his mind and as if the table wasn’t a good four feet off the ground.

“Come dance,” James said once he finally reached the both of you, though, only offering you his hand.

He waved his wand at a muggle radio they had in the corner, and the volume increased. Sirius smiled widely, refreshing his drink with the dwindling amount of firewhisky left. You cautiously took James’s hand, letting him spin you as you giggled.

James caught Remus’s eye, the blonde boy watching you with adoration. James pulled you close, resting one hand on your shoulder as the other held your hand, and leaned in close to your ear.

“Moony is watching you,” he slurred, sounding excited, “I reckon he’ll make a move tonight if Sirius doesn’t finish all the liquor for himself!”

James pulled away, giggling once again like a schoolgirl. You could not help his infectious laughter, your forehead falling onto his shoulder as you laughed loudly. As if on que, Remus stood and walked with determination to Sirius. He took Sirius’s goblet and downed it, smiling widely and accomplishedly afterwards. He climbed on the table with Sirius, who had long forgotten about his stolen alcohol, and began awkwardly moving his lanky body in a way that could be called dancing in the most generous of terms. This made you laugh even more, and James had to nearly fully support your weight as your knees buckled with your hard laughter.

It was shaping up to be a lovely Christmas Eve.

(-)

Christmas, as Sirius had predicted, was a morning for hangovers. You had barely glanced at your mounds of presents at the foot of your bed, instead throwing on your warmest sweater and going immediately to breakfast.

It had been decorated, as it had all week, with great care. Today, however, the tree had been alit with wonderful and delicate decorations, sparkling under the enchanted ceiling. The entire room somehow smelled of pine, and the warm feeling of a fireplace shot down your spine when you sat down.

You cradled a cup of tea, hunching over and fighting the urge to fall back asleep at the table. You couldn’t bear to look at food yet, regretting the glasses you drank once Sirius had found that second bottle of firewhisky.

There was no sign of life in the castle, besides the lovely decorations, and you found yourself grateful.

It was as if, however, that you cursed yourself the second you thought this.

“Merry Christmas, Y/n!” James shouted from the entry way of the castle, his loud voice assaulting your ears even from such a distance. Beside him, Peter, Sirius, and Remus cringed away in pain, shrinking down and walking past him into the hall.

“Bloody. Fucking. Hell,” Sirius groaned once he sat down next to you, his head hitting the table as soon as he was still.

Remus sat on the other side of you, going at once for heaping servings of the hot food. You swallowed the vomit in your throat at the sight of so much food, forcing your eyes deep into your tea. James happily sat down next to Peter on the other side of the table, patting his friend merrily on the back. Peter winced audibly, a pained look on his face.

“How are you not hungover?” you whispered once you were sure you would not vomit.

“He never gets hungover,” Remus groaned from beside you, his mouth full of beans.

“Never?” you repeated, wincing as you reached for more tea.

“Never!” James said happily, obviously enjoying his wonderful, wonderful gift.

“Oi!” Sirius groaned, his head still buried in his arms.

James smiled.

“Eating helps, really,” Remus said from beside you, glancing an earnest look at you as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Mmmmm,” you groaned in response, ducking your head down as Sirius was doing to avoid vomiting.

“What a lovely Christmas this will be!” James said, earning a unanimous groan in response.

(-)

Getting back to the tower was a slow and painful process that included many bathroom breaks and headaches. You and Sirius had both ducked into the loo twice each to vomit, and James supposed it had something to do with climbing the stairs. Peter was limping for some reason, though you could not remember him hurting either of his legs the night before. Remus was nearly as recovered as James, just looking a bit tired.

After you were sure you had emptied your stomach of the tea you drank for breakfast, you were feeling a bit better. Your legs felt a little wobbly, and Remus must have noticed, because he offered his arm for you to steady yourself on as you walked along. Your mind was so foggy you almost had not noticed, but his strong arm beneath your fingers was enough to clear you up a little. You held him close to you, hoping the hangover was excuse enough. James gave you and encouraging smile, nodding enthusiastically. You were sure Sirius would be giving you a smirk if he wasn’t basically crawling down the halls.

Once you reached the common room, Remus had not retracted his arm. In fact, he had interlocked his hand with yours, still with your arms looped, and led you over to a couch. He sat very close to you and still did not remove himself from your grasp even as you were sitting. You felt so comfortable and warm next to him, you could not help but close your eyes and let your head fall on his shoulder.

(-)

James retreated upstairs with Peter. Peter had wanted a quick and undisturbed nap, and James returned downstairs a few moments later with his practice Quidditch robes on. Sirius had collapsed on an armchair the second he crawled into the room, and showed no indication of life as he fell into a deep sleep. James gave Remus an encouraging smile and two thumbs up, but did not dare to speak in case you weren’t asleep. Remus rolled his eyes, but was truly quite happy with the position he had found himself in.

Your arms were looped, hands intertwined, and your head rested delicately on his shoulder. He leaned his head against yours, breathing in the smell of your shampoo.

He had wanted to stay there forever.

(-)

When they all awoke, James was out of his Quidditch robes and in a thick wool sweater. He was polishing his broom with what looked like a new polishing set, perched on the armrest of a couch across from you and Remus. You had woken up when Sirius did, his loud yawns and stretches filling the room. When you lifted your head, you bumped into Remus’s head, and he woke up. Your cheek felt sore from pressing into his strong shoulder, and you looked down at you hands to see them still interlocked. You were sweaty and tired, but Remus looked down at you sleepily with complete happiness.

“Happy Christmas, you lazy bones,” James tutted like a mother would, putting down his broom and standing.

“Happy Christmas,” Remus said, smiling widely.

You sat up, removing yourself from Remus. He untangled your arms, removing his hand from yours. You felt sad at the absence, looking down at your lonely hand. Remus was looking too, and when you met his eyes he bit his bottom lip. With some slight hesitation, he wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you in for a side hug. You lingered, and he made no move to pull away, so you stayed there, tucked under his arm.

“I never looked at my presents this morning,” Sirius said, standing from his chair and motioning for James to follow him.

“Neither did I,” you said to Remus only, hearing the other two retreating upstairs.

“Want me to walk you up to your dorm?” he offered, adjusting his body so he could see your face.

You uncurled from him, nodding excitedly.

You stood from the couch, walking over to the stairs. You waited for Remus, watching as he slowly stood and stretched. You leaned against the door frame, supporting yourself on your hands behind you. Remus came over to you, walking slowly with a sleepy and dazed look on his face.

“Happy Christmas,” he repeated, only to you this time.

“Happy Christmas,” you said, smiling at him as he leaned against the door frame opposite of you.

It was a narrow space, and there were only a few inches between you two, but neither of you made any movement. You wanted to go upstairs and see what your family had sent, what Lily had given you, what all your friends had given you, but you couldn’t tear yourself from the handsome boy in front of you.

Your eyes danced all over his face, admiring his curly and unkempt hair that fell into his dark and kind eyes, his sharp jaw that you wanted to run your fingers across, his soft lips.

You were both so entrance in each other, that neither of you had noticed the greenery sprouting from the door frame above you. It was mistletoe, sprouting from the wooden door frame between you and Remus. Remus noticed, his eyes darting up at it. He looked down at you, seeing you had not noticed it, and chuckled.

This seemed to snap you out of it, and you stood upright, coming closer to Remus. You looked up at the growing plant, eyes widening when you saw the red berry forming before your eyes.

“Mistletoe?” Remus chuckled, entertained as he reached up and brushed it delicately with his slender fingers.

“Is it?” you managed to say, watching his hand.

“It is,” he said, retracting his hand and bringing it to rest on your cheek.

He gently cupped your face, pulling you close to him until your chests met and neither of your backs were touching the door frame. You closed the distance, meeting his lips with urgency and desperation. You didn’t care if James thought Remus ought to kiss you, you wanted nothing more than to kiss Remus. And Remus wanted nothing more than to kiss you. His other hand came to your waist, pulling you flush against him as his hand on your cheek moved to the side of your neck. You reached up and slid your hands from his shoulders to this neck and into his hair, feeling the soft curls between your fingers as you had wanted to for so long.

Remus pulled you impossibly close to him, as if he wanted nothing to come between you, until his force was moving you to lean against the door frame. The feeling of the wood was unexpected, and you gasped into Remus’s mouth when you felt it. Remus took this as an invitation to deepen the kiss, and you allowed him, sighing softly as his tongue explored your mouth.

“Mistletoe?!”

You and Remus broke apart, his hands still on you even though your bodies were no longer touching. You both looked up the stairs, seeing James, Sirius, and Peter looking down at you.

Sirius had the most mischievous smirk you had ever seen, sure that it would make Lily’s skin crawl if she saw it. James seemed so content that you’d think he’d just been kissed and Peter anxiously twirled his fingers as he averted your eyes, obviously feeling bad for interrupting.

“Mistletoe,” Remus said, his voice husk and his lips wet. It took a lot of will power to not sigh at the sight of him, or pull him in by his collar and kiss him again. Instead, you looked up at the boys like a deer caught in headlights.

“You owe me ten galleons,” James said to Sirius, causing Sirius to groan.

“How do you know he kissed them?!” Sirius complained, digging in his robe pockets for the money.

“He didn’t, I kissed him,” you said, looking up at Remus and licking your lips nervously.

“Hah! Hand it over, James,” Sirius gloated, removing his hand from his pocket and holding it out to James.

James groaned, still a smile on his lips, and handed Sirius the money.

“You didn’t think I’d kiss them first?” Remus asked Sirius, pulling you into his chest in a loving and protective way.

“Sorry, mate,” Sirius said with no remorse in his voice, climbing down the stairs and pushing past you and Remus.

James and Peter followed him, all fiddling with some new gift they had gotten. You looked up at Remus, deciding your Christmas presents could wait until Boxing Day, and pulled him out of the door way. You fell onto the couch, Remus following you, and you fell easily into conversation with the boys. Remus wrapped an arm around you, pulling you into his chest.

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yourfriendlyneighborhoodfanfics · 4 years

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“The Real Life Mary Jane”

Tom Holland x y/n

Warnings: none, just a bunch of cute fluff. Might take this and run with it if you guys like it enough!

Tom was sitting on his laptop memorizing lines in his room when out of nowhere Harry came rushing in, seemingly out of breath. “Tom! Have you been on Instagram today?” Tom stared dumbfounded before his confusion escalated as Harrison came running in not long after. “Harry, did you show him?” Harry shook his head and jumped in front of Tom on the computer. As he began to protest, Harry shushed him, the urgency in his voice alarming Tom. “N-no, I haven’t been on Instagram, you know I try not to make a habit of it. What’s wrong?”

“Have you heard of Y/N L/N?” Harrison spoke up, grinning from ear to ear. Tom had heard of the up and coming pop star’s name, but he didn’t know anything about you. “Uh, yeah, I guess? Why?” Harry finished his search and stepped out of the way. It was one of your music videos. “What is this about mate, I need to be learning my lines-“

“Just shut up and watch it!” Harry shouted and the two boys huddled around Tom as he clicked the play button. The video started up, it was a catchy song and you looked super cute. He had never even seen you before, but you were more than he expected. However, he wasn’t really sure why he was watching it until Harry spoke up again. “Okay, now pay close attention…” in the video you were sitting on the floor wearing a Spider-Man t-shirt that was way too big for you, and nothing else. Tom smiled to himself, he thought you looked cute in it. “So, she likes Spider-Man?”

“That isn’t the half of it, hang on.” Harry reached over and clicked to another tab he already had pulled up with a different music video. In this one you were lighting your ‘exes’ car on fire, and as you danced around and sang, you grabbed a Spider-Man bumper sticker off the back and put it in your pocket to keep. Harry clicked another tab with another music video, one where you were singing a slower song and in it, you had multiple Amazing Spider-Man comics splayed out on your bed. One by one, Harry showed Tom video after video of you slowly expressing your love for Spider-Man. In some of the music videos it was less obvious, but in some it seemed to be the point. Either way, you had been able to sneak in something to do with Spider-Man into every single one of your videos. The last one Harry pulled up was one where you and a bunch of girls were making ice cream sundaes and you had a pink beanie on with the classic Mary Jane Spider-Man heart on the front.

Harrison kept lightly punching Tom’s shoulder in disbelief and Tom just stared forward. “The media is calling her the ‘real life Mary Jane’!” Harry nearly shouted, Tom switching between the tabs himself. “How have I never heard of her?”

“Well she just released the video with the t-shirt, and that seems to be what blew up overnight. The rest were subtle enough that nobody really put it together.” Harrison explained, grabbing Tom’s phone and looking up your Instagram handle. He handed it back to Tom, and sure enough there you were on the cover of Cosmo, wearing that same Spider-Man t-shirt and the same beanie, the headline reading “New Popstar is the Real Life Mary Jane” and you had a sucker hanging out of your mouth.

“What are you going to do?” Harry asked, expectantly. Tom stared at his phone, unsure of how to proceed. “I mean, do you think I should do something?” The boys stared at him, dumbfounded. “You have to, are you kidding me?” Harry shouted again, knocking Tom upside the head. Harrison added, “Mate she’s gorgeous, and she is being handed to you on a silver platter. This is a golden opportunity, you might as well, right?” Tom sat and thought for a moment before ushering the boys out. “I need a minute to think, okay?” He closed the door behind them and heard the two snickering from outside. “If he doesn’t do something, I will. I could be Peter Parker, right?” You heard Harry mumble and Tom just hollered, “Piss off!” And the two took off laughing.

Tom sat back down on his bed and pulled out his phone. He had been tagged by over 3,000 people to look at your post of the article cover. He must have been really distracted from his phone to not notice today, so he googled your name. As he was scrolling, he found a video of you dated a couple of months back, answering questions for an interview. “So, who would be your celebrity crush?” The interviewer asked. You paused and smiled at the floor before answering, “Well I guess I would have to say Tom Holland. He is about as close to Peter Parker as I will ever get!” You and the interviewer laughed, and he continued, “Yeah, you have said in the past that you are a fan of Spider-Man, when did that start?”

“Honestly, I have loved Spider-Man as long as I can remember. I grew up watching the movies, collecting the comics, tucked under the covers with a flashlight reading them every night.” You giggled again and the interviewer continued. “No kidding! So why not Tobey Maguire? Or Andrew Garfield?” Tom watched as you looked between the camera and the interviewer before landing on the camera. “Well, Tom was Stan Lee’s pick for Spider-Man so, I think that answers that!” The interviewer led the questions elsewhere, and you seemed to answer them all with ease. Tom did notice that you were blushed only when talking about him and that made him blush just as bright.

He pulled your Instagram back up and scrolled through your photos for a while. You seemed like a relatively normal girl, all your posts of new song releases or pictures of your dog. Finally, he clicked the follow button and opened his dms.

You were on set for your next music video release, busy getting your make up touched up when your phone kept buzzing in your pocket. You pulled it out, deciding that since you had a few minutes of spare time you would see what was going on. You tried not to spend too much time on your phone while you were on set, still trying to figure out the do’s and don’ts of the industry since you were so new. You glanced down as your phone screen lit up, and you almost dropped it. You tried to shout out to your best friend, but all the wind left your lungs and you just took off running. You called out to the director, “I am gonna need a five-minute break!” And kept running until you collided with your best friend, Grace. “Ow, y/n! What the hell?” You had no words, you just handed your phone to her and kept pinching yourself. “Holy shit. Holy shit!” Grace started shouting, seeing the notification.

Tom Holland (@tomholland2013) has started following you

You collapsed onto the couch and felt a shiver run down your spine. “Calm down! We figured this would happen eventually, right? You weren’t exactly being subtle, and with the new tabloids…” Grace sat next to you but fell silent after a moment. You figured she was just reading it again but after a minute of her not saying anything you looked up. “Well now what, Grace?” Her skin looked pale and she was trying to suppress a smile. “Now, you answer this.”

She handed your phone back to you and you read the dm, and then you read it again, and then you read it out loud because that had to make it real right?

“Do you prefer going by Y/N or Mary Jane?”

You couldn’t describe the feeling coursing through your body, and Grace held onto you to keep you stable. “What are you going to say, girl?” You shook your head for a moment before saying, “I have no idea.” And attempted to type out a response four different times, with feedback from your manager and Grace of course, before landing on, “Usually Y/N, but it’s never too late to pick up a new nickname. How are you?”

You felt like it wasn’t perfect, but it was the best you could come up with in the moment and you sent it. A few minutes passed of you erratically checking your phone before he responded, “I’m doing well, thanks. I was just reading up on this article I found today. Some very interesting things in there. I didn’t know I had such a huge fan.”

You smiled and answered, “I’m sure you have a million fans that love you, I just get to have a voice to talk about it!”

Several minutes passed without a response and you sighed. “Was that too flippant? I just didn’t want to seem like a crazy person or an over obsessed fan.” You asked Grace, who shook her head. “It was fine sweetie, I’m sure he just got caught up doing something.” You nodded, unsure of her reply as the director poked his head in, clearly pissed that you took off. “Can we please get back to filming?” You jumped up, apologizing profusely and followed him back to the set. After about an hour of filming dance scenes and close ups, you were done for the day. You thanked the director and apologized again for leaving him waiting before returning to your dressing room. There you found your phone unattended, and you opened it again to find two missed dms.

“You wouldn’t want to grab dinner sometime this week, would you?”

“Sorry, I hope that wasn’t too forward. If you aren’t interested, I totally understand.”

You could have thrown up right there. You probably would have if you weren’t wearing your new Spider-Man sneakers that you would avoid ever getting dirty. It gave you an idea.

Tom checked his phone repeatedly for the next hour, concerned he pushed it too far. “What if it’s a marketing scheme?” He asked his brother who shook his head. “It’s not, Tom. She is probably just busy-“ A notification going off on Tom’s phone brought them all back to reality as he pulled it out and read the message out loud.

“Sorry for the delay, I was caught up filming.” Followed by a picture of what appeared to be Spider-Man themed tennis shoes. A few seconds later another message popped up, “I would love to get dinner with you. How does Thursday sound?” Tom threw his fist in the air triumphantly before texting you back. He couldn’t wait to meet you, and you two spent the rest of the night planning your dinner. Harry stood up and patted Tom on the back saying, “I can just hear the tabloids now. ‘Extra! Extra! Read all about it!’” They both laughed and Tom shoved him playfully before he returned to his phone. Today turned out much different than either of you expected, but Tom felt like he had something really good on his hands. A notification popped on his phone from Jon Watts, the director of the Spider-Man movies.

“Hey kid, I need you to reach out to Y/N L/N. We want to get her to make a song for SM3.”

“No worries, way ahead of you.”

#tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfics #tom holland smut #tom holland fanfiction #tomholland #tom holland #peter parker fanfics #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #peter parker fanfiction #peterparker #peter parker #spiderman fluff #spiderman fanfics #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman smut #spiderman

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bananaofswifts · 4 years

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For Women's History Month 2021, GRAMMY.com is celebrating some of the women artists nominated at the 2021 GRAMMY Awards show. Today, we honor Taylor Swift, who's currently nominated for six GRAMMYs.

When we met Taylor Swift in 2006, it was immediately apparent that her songwriting approach was like ripping a page out of her diary.

"Just a boy in a Chevy truck/ That had a tendency of gettin' stuck/ On backroads at night/ And I was right there beside him all summer long/ And then the time we woke up to find that summer gone," she lamented in the first verse of her debut single, "Tim McGraw(opens in a new tab)." The way the then-16-year-old Swift could turn personal anecdotes into instantly memorable hooks mirrored the prowess of an industry veteran, appealing to more than just the teenage girls that could relate to a short-lived high school romance.

Now, nearly 15 years later, Swift has introduced another layer of intrigue with a foray into indie folk, unveiling a pair of albums, folklore and evermore, last year. Recorded entirely in isolation after the COVID-19 pandemic hit in March 2020, folklore has been widely acclaimed(opens in a new tab) as Swift's best album, touted for its intimate songwriting and cinematic dynamics; evermore has received similarly glowing reviews(opens in a new tab).

folklore was 2020's best-selling album(opens in a new tab) and earned Swift five GRAMMY nominations at the 2021 GRAMMY Awards show, including her fourth Album Of The Year nod. (evermore will be eligible for the 64th GRAMMY Awards in 2022.) As her 10 previous GRAMMY wins suggest, though, this new chapter isn't an abrupt departure for the star—it's a masterful continuation of her evolution as a singer/songwriter.

If there's one thing that Swift has proven throughout her career, it's that she refuses to be put in a box. Her ever-evolving sound took her from country darling to pop phenom to folk's newest raconteur—a transition that, on paper, seems arduous. But for Swift, it was seamless and resulted in perhaps her most defining work yet. And folklore’s radiance relies on three of Swift’s songwriting tools: heartfelt balladeering, autobiographical writing, and character-driven storytelling.

While there was always a crossover element to Swift's pop-leaning country tunes, her transition from country starlet to pop queen began with Red. The album’s lead single, the feisty breakup anthem "We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together(opens in a new tab)," was Swift's first release to reach No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100 (and, ironically, scoffed "indie records much cooler than mine"). She declared a full pop makeover with 2014's 1989, but the response proved that her bold move was the right one: Along with spawning three more No. 1 hits, the project won Swift her second GRAMMY for Album of the Year.

From there, 2017’s Reputation, a response to media scrutiny, and 2019’s Lover, an often bubbly exploration of all facets of affection, followed. Although they shared similarly grandiose production, Lover featured a handful of poetic ballads, including "The Archer(opens in a new tab)," a self-reflective love song that teased Swift's folk sensibilities through storybook lyrics and ambient textures.

Swift’s ballads are key in understanding the full essence of folklore. They’ve regularly marked standout moments on each of her albums, both thanks to her poignant vulnerability and rich tone. Fearless standout "White Horse" earned Swift two GRAMMYs in 2009; Red's painstaking "All Too Well" was an instant fan favorite; 1989's "This Love" and Reputation's "New Years Day" provided tenderness amid otherwise synth-heavy sounds.

The raw emotion she puts into her downtempo songs comes alive on folklore, introducing a new wave of neo-classical sonics that elevate her fanciful penmanship to an ethereal level. Whether or not Swifties saw a full indie-pop record coming—at least not yet—the shift isn't all that surprising. Folklore’s romanticized lyrics and relatively lo-fi production are arguably what many fans have been patiently waiting on.

Lyrically, the super-personal nature of Swift’s music has always captivated fans and naysayers alike; diehards and critics dissected each of her albums for its real-life subjects and hidden meanings. While she played into those conspiracies at the time—whether she was revealing names in titles like "Hey Stephen(opens in a new tab)" and "Dear John(opens in a new tab)" or scathing the other girl on "Better Than Revenge(opens in a new tab)"—even Swift herself admits that her teenage method had an expiration date.

"There was a point that I got to as a writer who only wrote very diaristic songs that [it] felt unsustainable for my future moving forward," she told Apple Music's(opens in a new tab) Zane Lowe in December of 2020. "It felt like too hot of a microscope ... On my bad days, I would feel like I was loading a cannon of clickbait when that's not what I want for my life."

That realization is what helped make folklore so memorable: Swift stripped away the drama to let her artful storytelling shine. Sure, there are occasional callbacks to personal happenings ("invisible string(opens in a new tab)" references sending her exes baby gifts and "mad woman(opens in a new tab)" alludes to her legal battle with Scott Borchetta and Scooter Braun). Still, she largely shies away from her autobiographical narratives to make way for her imagination.

"I found myself not only writing my own stories, but also writing about or from the perspective of people I've never met, people I've known, or those I wish I hadn't," Swift wrote in a letter to fans(opens in a new tab) on social media the day folklore arrived. "The lines between fantasy and reality blur and the boundaries between truth and fiction become almost indiscernible."

folklore might be her first full project dedicated to creating characters and projecting storylines, but Swift has shown a knack for fantasy from the start. Tracks like "Mary's Song (Oh My My)(opens in a new tab)" on her self-titled debut and "Starlight(opens in a new tab)" on Red saw Swift craft stories for real-life muses ("Mary's Song" was inspired by an old couple who lived next door to Swift in her childhood; "Starlight" was sparked from seeing a picture of Ethel and Bobby Kennedy as teens). Even when songs did pertain to her real life, Swift often had a way of flipping memories into whimsical metaphors, like the clever clap-back to a critic on Speak Now's "Mean(opens in a new tab)" or the rebound relationship in Reputation's "Getaway Car(opens in a new tab)."

To think that we wouldn't have folklore without a pandemic is almost surreal; it's already become such a fundamental piece of Swift’s artistic puzzle. There was no telling what may have come after the glittering "love letter to love itself” that was Lover, but it seems isolation made the singer rethink any plans she may have had.

"I just thought there are no rules anymore because I used to put all these parameters on myself, like, 'How will this song sound in a stadium? How will this song sound on radio?' If you take away all the parameters, what do you make?" she told Paul McCartney in a November (opens in a new tab)Rolling Stone(opens in a new tab) interview(opens in a new tab). "And I guess the answer is folklore."

Even if she hasn’t been making indie music herself, Swift has shown an affinity for the genre over the years through curated digital playlists(opens in a new tab). Those included four songs by The National including "Dark Side of the Gym," which she references on folklore single "betty(opens in a new tab)," and "8 (Circle)" by Bon Iver, Swift's collaborator on folklore's gut-wrenching "exile(opens in a new tab)" as well as evermore’s title track. (“Exile” is one of folklore’s GRAMMY-nominated cuts, up for Best Pop Duo/Group Performance.)

The National’s guitarist Aaron Dessner co-wrote nine and produced 11 of folklore's 16 tracks, soundtracking Swift's imaginative tales with sweeping orchestration and delicate piano. Their partnership started with "cardigan(opens in a new tab)," a melancholy take on teenage love(opens in a new tab) that's up for Best Pop Solo Performance and the coveted Song of the Year. The team-up was a dream come true for Swift, a self-proclaimed National superfan and a career highlight for Dessner, who shared in an Instagram post(opens in a new tab) about folklore that he's "rarely been so inspired by someone." He sees the album as a pivotal moment for both Swift's career and pop music.

"Taylor has opened the door for artists to not feel pressure to have 'the bop,'" Dessner shared with (opens in a new tab)Billboard(opens in a new tab) in September. "To make the record that she made, while running against what is programmed in radio at the highest levels of pop music—she has kind of made an anti-pop record. And to have it be one of the most, if not the most, successful commercial releases of the year that throws the playbook out.

"I hope it gives other artists, especially lesser-known or more independent artists, a chance at the mainstream," he continued. "Maybe radio will realize that music doesn't have to sound as pushed as it has. Nobody was trying to design anything to be a hit. Obviously, Taylor has the privilege of already having a very large and dedicated audience, but I do feel like it's having a resonance beyond that."

Swift's other primary folklore collaborator was Jack Antonoff. He has been her right-hand man since they first paired up on 2013's promotional single "Sweeter Than Fiction(opens in a new tab)" (Swift referred to him as "musical family" in her folklore announcement(opens in a new tab)). Even after years of creating stadium-ready pop smashes, Antonoff said in his own folklore Instagram post(opens in a new tab), "I've never heard Taylor sing better in my life / write better."

As Swift recognizes herself, folklore ushered in a new way of thinking for the superstar that not only brings out her best, but sets a promising precedent for what's to come. "What I felt after we put out folklore was, 'Oh wow, people are into this too, this thing that feels really good for my life and my creativity,'" Swift added in her interview with Lowe. "I saw a lane for my future that was a real breakthrough moment of excitement and happiness."

Her enthusiasm is tangible on both folklore and evermore. Dubbed folklore’s sister record, evermore further expands Swift’s newfound mystical atmosphere. Much to the delight of many Swifties, the follow-up also calls back to her country beginnings on tracks like the HAIM-assisted “no body, no crime(opens in a new tab),” as well as her pop expertise on more uptempo cuts like “long story short(opens in a new tab).”

Together, the albums are a momentous reminder that Swift is a singer/songwriter first. Her wordcraft is some of the most alluring of her generation, and that’s never been lost on her music, regardless of the genre she’s exploring. But now that Swift also feels she's at her best, it’s evident folklore was just the beginning of Taylor Swift in her finest form.

#taylor swift #folklore #Grammy #WOW

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once-upon-a-pirate-ship · 3 years

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it would kill me (if you didn't know)

I know. Trust me, I know. But I've been working on my novel, and when this fic slapped me in the face last night, I just went with it. And so should you.

Neverland AU - canon divergence for somewhere in 3a

(Blatant disregard of canon to follow--don't make me rewatch the show, please)

They saved Henry but all got separated in the process, and when they finally made it back to the ship, Emma realized that they were down a man. She's just gonna have to save him.

This features some pretty awesome Emma/David bonding, too.

This is a classic 'Killian's been taken while saving them and now he's being tortured and Emma isn't gonna stand for it' fic. I've read them all, and I just needed more. POV switches 3rd person between Killian and the others.

Thanks in advance for accepting the sidestepping of canon that I love to do.

Rated M for language and violence

length: 5k+

Read it on ao3

In retrospect, it wasn’t the greatest plan he’d ever had. But it also wasn’t the worst. Well, it could hardly even be called a plan, really, given that the consideration for it occurred in approximately three seconds, but he was hardly going to worry about it now. There were other things to worry about.

The thing that Killian Jones, pirate captain of the Jolly Roger and unofficial Neverland guide to Swan (and the others), needed to be worried about was the little demon child Peter fucking Pan who stood over him with that stupid evil smirk on his lips.

“Seems like you’ve finally lost, pirate,” Pan spat, but the amusement in his tone only sharpened the anger in his eyes.

Killian’s gaze flickered from the child to the grove in the distance, and when he saw not a trace of the others, he returned his attention to Pan. “Aye, I suppose so,” he said, his voice rough though calm and certain.

Pan’s brow furrowed. “Really? No witty remark? No promise to skin me alive?” he taunted. “You’ve changed your tune, Hook.”

He resisted rolling his eyes, instead gripping his wounded shoulder a little tighter. The arrow wasn’t poisoned—he’d have felt it working by now—but it wasn’t helping his predicament at all. Neither was the sizeable gash on his abdomen that Felix had been kind enough to gift him when he’d been distracted.

“Have I?” Killian asked. “I wonder what you’ll do with me now,” he added dryly. He knew. Oh, he knew.

Pan’s eyes flashed, and in an instant he was crouching towards Killian, his hand grasping the protruding arrow. “Now, I get to have my fun,” he declared with a cruel twist of his lips and an even crueler twist of the arrow.

But Killian Jones was no stranger to pain. They were intimately acquainted. That’s how he grit his teeth and buried it until nothing but a tiny grunt sounded from deep within his throat. Pan wouldn’t consider his torture much fun if he didn’t scream in agony, so he would keep playing until Killian could fight it no longer. And he’d let him. Because egging him on would make him lash out, and ensuring him of Swan’s victory would put her and the lad in danger. Pan had spent his time since their arrival playing games with them, distracting them from the important things they’d come there to do. It was only fair that Killian would return the favor.

So the demon could pull out all his toys, could whip him and carve into his flesh, could burn him until his skin was blackened ash, but nothing would stop Killian Jones from protecting his loved ones. And gods above, he loved Emma Swan.

All she wanted to know was how the fuck this happened. Their plan had been so perfect that even she couldn’t doubt it, but somehow the winds had shifted or their luck had run out or her luck had run out, and when they returned to the Jolly Rodger and the groups had reunited, they’d been down a man. Down a captain.

Neal, for all his talk of fighting for her, didn’t seem to mind not fighting for something that she actually cared about. He was running for president of the Let’s Leave the Pirate Here Club, and that wasn’t exactly a great way to get into her good graces, though that would’ve been hard enough as it was.

Regina, predictably, prioritized Henry to a fault—Emma was always for prioritizing her son, but not when it came to sacrificing her values or her morals or whatever, fine, she just didn’t want to sacrifice him. Henry was okay, he was safe, and they could take precautions to ensure that he would stay that way, but Regina just didn’t care or didn’t think it was worth it. A good option for Neal’s vice president.

In all her silent canvassing of the group’s feelings regarding Operation Save Hook (Henry was asleep, okay? He could come up with a better name when he woke up), Emma blatantly ignored Gold. For obvious reasons.

Tink was mostly for saving him, but not confident enough in any plan she could offer to make it stick. She’d tried to sway Regina, but that had been less than successful.

Then it was her parents. And, for once, they weren’t in total agreement.

Mary Margaret was sympathetic, to be sure, but not enough. She wasn’t in the Let’s Leave the Pirate Here Club, but she was Queen of Save My Kid and Her Kid Kingdom, so that was that.

But David—that’s what had caught her attention.

When they’d first discovered Hook’s absence and began discussing their options, Emma had held back and held her breath, unwilling to reveal her hand without knowing where the others stood. She’d gone into full Observant Mode, and that’s when she saw David, her father, and his reaction.

His face stiffened, an automatic move to hide his feelings, but Emma saw through it, even when Mary Margaret didn’t (or didn’t want to see it). It was a set jaw, a twitching lip that was almost a frown, tensed shoulders that eventually gave way to firmly crossed arms because apparently, Emma had gotten her Observant Mode from her father, and that’s what he was doing.

A few minutes into the conversation had nothing decided, but Emma shifted her stance, and her father looked her way. Their eyes locked, and while the others continued their pathetic excuse for a rescue discussion, father and daughter exchanged practically imperceptible nods, and then they were allies.

It’s what gave her the strength to step forward at last and disregard whatever half-assed ‘it’s too late’ speech Neal had been giving with a pointed clearing of her throat.

“David and I will go back for him while you guys get the ship ready,” Emma announced. Regina did that haughty half-step back that meant something between ‘I don’t care’ and ‘do whatever you want,’ and Mary Margaret’s only response was to look questioningly at her husband. Tinker Bell gave an enthusiastic nod of approval before busying herself with some bit of the rigging she may or may not have actually understood how to work.

Neal, however, was predictably Neal. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Ems,” he said, that stupid nickname that he had no fucking right to use.

Emma’s head turned slowly to her ex, regarding him with the coldest gaze she’d ever offered anyone. Regina had some competition as head of the Looks That Could Kill Committee. “Hm, okay. Well, you don’t have to think it’s a good idea, because you’re staying here.”

“Emma—”

“There’s no discussion, Neal. No discussion from anyone, but especially from you. You have no right to talk, or interfere, and you especially have no right to argue against saving the man who is the reason your own son is alive and safe now.”

Mary Margaret was staring at her when she turned away from him, her eyes wide and openly confused, but she said nothing. David, however, had his eyes cutting into Neal, narrowed and calculating and damn, he was putting pieces together and he wasn’t liking the picture.

“Ready?” Emma asked her father.

He forced himself to look away. “Just have to grab one thing,” he told her, shaking his head at something Mary Margaret had said before he disappeared below.

Neal had huffed away after Emma’s little scolding, and he pouted at the exact opposite end from where his father pouted. Regina looked disinterested and mildly irritated, but when Emma glanced at her, she nodded towards Gold with a raised eyebrow.

Emma’s lips curled in something like a grateful smile, and she passed her bewildered mother on her way to the Dark One.

“You have something,” Emma said as soon as she stood in front of him. “Something to get Pan.”

“I do, Miss Swan,” he replied, that stupid tone that told her he had tricks up those stupid sleeves of his.

She hummed. “No, there’s no deal this time. No price. I’m done with games. So you can either give it to me, or I can take it from you.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Take it from me?” he asked, entirely amused by the concept.

“I’m done with your shit, Crocodile. You can play Dark One with me all you want, but we both know it’s just easier to just hand it over.”

He glared at her for a long moment, but eventually he cracked, and he glanced at his son who looked out at the water and away from them both. “Fine. But only because I’ve no use for it anyway.”

She took the box he offered, resisting the urge to mutter, ‘yes, that’s why,’ as he explained how it worked. When he’d finished, she offered him a simple but genuine “thank you,” before joining her father once more.

“Here,” David said, passing her another cutlass, one she hadn’t seen before. “You need a new weapon,” he added.

“And I’m borrowing…”

“Hook’s. An extra,” he said. “Figured he wouldn’t mind.”

“Right,” she mumbled, taking it with a frown and securing it quickly. “Well then, let’s go.”

For all his talk of being intimately acquainted with pain, Killian Jones was doing a piss-poor job of hiding it. The cracks in his resolve were starting to widen, and when hums and grunts became groans and low growls, he knew it was only a matter of time before Pan started to truly have his fun.

He’d been more clever this time around, to be sure. It had to have been at least a century since Killian had gotten cozy with the demon’s knife (or arrowhead, or branding iron, or whatever particular weapon he’d chosen to use that time), but Pan had certainly honed his skills quite a bit since then.

But Killian was sure that Swan had taken her lad and the others far away by now, and the knowledge that he’d helped her, that he’d kept his word, allowed him the strength he needed to keep the screams from coming.

For a while.

Pan, though, had used a trick on him he’d never experienced, and the shock alone was enough to get it working for a little while.

That trick came in the form of her, of Emma Swan, and the name had fallen from his lips like a prayer, hope that he’d never felt before rising like a rushing tide in his chest, and she’d smiled at him, a radiant, lovely thing that he’d never imagined could’ve been gifted solely for him, useless pirate that he was.

But then she’d started talking, and he knew it was a trick (tides always come back, because when there’s a rise, there’s also a fall). Not at first, he’d give Pan that, because it was easy enough to believe that the smile hadn’t been for him, that she resented him, that she hadn’t meant to save him, that they were better off without him. It wasn’t what she said that tipped him off, it was how she said it. Because Killian Jones had studied her since the moment she uncovered his pathetic hide in that pile of bodies, and he knew her—more than she knew herself, to her dismay—and he could read her. She was an open book, after all.

When her eyes didn’t burn like he knew they should’ve when she spoke of anger and hatred, he knew. When her lips didn’t quirk in that one specific way when she mentioned abandoning him, he knew. And then she spoke about her parents and Baelfire, and it was all wrong, because Emma Swan had walls, and even Neverland wasn’t enough to break them down so quickly.

Wherever she was, Emma Swan wasn’t about to run into her parents’ arms and live happily ever after with them and her True Love, because she wasn’t there yet. He knew her. He knew how hard it was for her to open up to him, someone who understood her from such shared experiences, and that wasn’t something she could just overlook as soon as she returned home. They’d hurt her—here, in Neverland, with assumptions and confessions and automatic behaviors, but also before. And if she did wish to ride off into the sunset with Baelfire, Neal, it wasn’t going to happen right away, because Killian had watched her while she shifted away from Neal when he’d moved towards her. He’d seen the way she recoiled at his touch, how she’d narrowed those jade eyes at his words, how she didn’t trust him, not anymore.

No, the Emma Swan that stood before his beaten and bruised body was a copy, and a bad one. When she hadn’t achieved her goal, she disappeared, and Pan took her place, and though he knew the demon was mocking him and prodding him with insults and hoping they’d smash the last of his resolve, he wasn’t ready to give in just yet.

Killian Jones was waiting for something. He just couldn’t figure out what it was.

“What’d he do?”

Emma faltered, the blade missing the piece of jungle shit in her path she’d been trying to cut down. “What? Who?”

“Neal,” her father said, clearing the vines for her before they continued on.

“Oh,” she sounded, pulling her lips together as she considered what to say. He’d noticed it before, and she knew that. He wasn’t stupid, nor was he as hope-prone and naive as Mary Margaret could often be. And they had another few miles to go, at least. “He left,” she said.

David stopped, a hand on her arm that was more than just an attempt to stop her from walking, too. “He left you?” he asked, his eyes somehow tight with rage and tender with something she wanted to dub dad-ness, because no one had ever looked at her like that before.

Emma huffed, because now was definitely not the time for Feelings, now was the time to rescue a goddamn pirate from whatever the hell Peter fucking Pan was doing to him. “He set me up to take the fall for his crime and let me go to prison instead. I didn’t find out I was pregnant until I was already in jail.”

David blinked once, twice, and then his expression was consumed by dad-anger (because it was just a different brand of anger that she’d also never seen before). “Emma—”

“It was a long time ago, dad.” They both started at the name, dad, because she’d never really used it before. A few times she’d said it, but it was something she’d had to force, a correction or a pointed joke, sometimes a near-death thing, but this was different. Authentic. Slightly heartbreaking.

“We don’t have time for this,” she muttered as she turned away, but neither was surprised, and even her dad wasn’t hurt, because Emma had her walls, and that was okay, because she’d needed them to survive this long. And if he had to put in a little time and effort to help take them down, that didn’t bother him one bit.

“I was kinda surprised that you wanted to come,” she said after a while, unable to bear the tense atmosphere any longer.

David gave her a half-smile, slicing another thicket (because they’d grown over since they’d returned to the ship. Fuck Neverland, honestly). “He did save my life, you know. And he was saving Henry when an arrow hit him—before your mother and I got separated from the group. I wasn’t about to leave him for dead after he took an arrow for my grandson.”

Emma froze, nearly dropping the cutlass that wasn’t hers. “He saved Henry?”

Her father’s eyebrows furrowed. “I thought you knew that,” he said. “So why are you so eager to help him? If you didn’t know.”

Her lips parted only to press together firmly, and when she spoke, they both knew it wasn’t a lie, but it also wasn’t the whole truth. “Because I don’t leave people behind. And even without the arrow, he still saved Henry. He brought us here.”

David studied her for a moment, and these pieces were coming together faster now, and quite suddenly, the picture made a lot of sense. “He came back.”

“For Henry. And Neal,” she replied.

“And you.”

She couldn’t deny it, and he knew that. But it surprised him that he didn’t mind it as much as he had before. Emma’s walls, no matter how much he wished he could change it, were in part because of him and Snow. They saved her, yes, but they abandoned her when they did it. And Neal had likely been the cause of the other fortress that surrounded her, because he’d abandoned her, too.

So if the pirate had gained her trust and her respect because he hadn’t abandoned her, then that was good. David had seen plenty of love and devotion in his life, but he’d never seen loyalty like the kind that burned in Captain Hook. Centuries in search of revenge for the one he’d loved and lost. That wasn’t the man who would turn around and abandon her the second the opportunity arose.

No, without him or the pirate realizing it, he’d pretty much gained his blessing. Because David knew damn well that if the roles were reversed, not even if Emma herself were in danger, but if Hook were here in his place and someone she loved was being tortured, there’s no one he would trust more than Captain Hook to help her. Neal had barely batted an eye. But he was apparently quite skilled at leaving people to rot.

David was just beginning to contemplate how to handle that particular situation when the screams started.

He took his daughter’s hand, meeting her huge and watery eyes, and they ran.

He’d held on so long, but it was worth it. It was worth it. No, she was worth it. Emma Swan was worth it.

Emma. Emma. Emma.

Her name became a mantra, a song in his head to fill the space between screams.

Killian Jones had loved Milah. He never doubted that, and his love for another didn’t negate it, either. He wasn’t sure what made his love for Emma Swan sharper, deeper, but it was just different. His working theory was that they’d both loved before, both been hurt before, both lingered in something that was slightly less than pure. Whatever had happened with Baelfire couldn’t have been perfect, because it hurt her. And she’d been so young when she’d had Henry. Milah wasn’t faultless, either. Ironically enough, that point was proven by Baelfire.

Killian had spoken to her about it for hours. She’d spun tales of rescuing the lad, taking him from his pathetic father and bringing him aboard, but it never happened. It wasn’t until Henry was taken from Swan that he realized the downfall of his Milah. He’d known it, truly, but nothing would have stopped Swan from getting back her son, and it should’ve been the same with Milah.

For a moment, the pain of his guilt overwhelmed the pain of Pan’s lash that sliced into his back.

But that was what made his love for Emma Swan different.

Try something new, darling. It’s called trust.

Be a part of something.

Too bad he’d never have the chance to explain it all to her.

Emma had seen so much in her life. So much pain, so much ugliness—it had made her start to believe that there was really nothing else. But then Henry showed up at her door, and things changed.

Now, standing in her hiding place with her father, she was forced to watch as the demon child inflicted brutal and unrelenting torture to Captain Hook—no, no, he wasn’t Hook anymore. Not after this. He was Killian Jones, and she was going to save him.

She just couldn’t jump in and do it. Not without a plan.

Once they’d decided who was the distraction and who was taking the box, they were ready, but she wasn’t. Each scream pierced her heart, and by this point, the tears were just a permanent fixture that neither of them acknowledged. You couldn’t listen to that kind of pain and not feel it down to your goddamn soul. And she knew that as much as it hurt to hear it, Killian was hurting a thousand times worse while he endured it.

It had only been hours, maybe, but she’d never seen a person look so broken and not be actually dead, and it felt like her fault. Because maybe if she’d been strong and reasonable enough to let go of Henry’s hand for even a second, she would’ve realized that he wasn’t at her side like he was supposed to be. Sure, they’d all been separated into groups that slowly returned to the ship, but she should’ve known. She should’ve been there. He shouldn’t have been here.

None of that mattered now. It was time to save him, and then she could worry about everything else.

Her father kissed her forehead, brushing her tears with his thumbs and offering her a reassuring nod that said we’ve got this, and then he disappeared to play his part. When she stepped into the clearing, she was much more confident than she had any right to be.

“Pan.”

The kid snapped to attention, whirling around to look at her. “Really? You’ve come to rescue the pirate?”

His words, his face, his stupid grin pissed her the fuck off, but what really sold it, the thing that solidified everything for her was the sight of Killian’s hook tucked into Peter Pan’s pocket like it was a fucking souvenir.

“Well, you know what they say about us hero types,” Emma stalled, keeping herself from glancing at Killian where he lay in the dirt. “We don’t leave anyone behind. We come back for everyone. It’s just in our nature.” She had no idea what she was actually saying, she was just talking, just waiting until her father got into place.

“I’m afraid I can’t let you take the pirate, Emma. He’s mine, you see,” Pan told her, and she thought that he’d never looked less than a child with the straight-up evil in his eyes and the weapon in his hand.

She folded her arms across her chest, pulling on strength she didn’t have. “Hm, no, I don’t think he is,” she said, letting some of her anger seep into her voice. “He’s a pirate, sure, but you and I both know that he’s pretty determined about that good form nonsense, and he made me a promise, you know,” Emma continued. “He told me he’d see to it that Henry gets home safely. He can’t do that if he’s here.”

Pan’s shoulders shifted as his chest puffed out, and he wanted something. “How about this,” he said, “the pirate in exchange for your son.”

Emma scoffed. “As I told the Dark One earlier, I’m done playing games. No deals. I’m leaving this island with my son and my pirate and everyone else, and that’s it. You lose, kid.”

Peter Pan grinned, and if she hadn’t just seen David out of the corner of her eye, she would’ve been terrified. “How’s that? I’m not going to let you leave with Henry or the pirate, no matter how much you’re convinced I’m going to,” he said, almost petulant.

“Sorry, I should’ve been clearer,” Emma smiled, “I should’ve mentioned the part about you being captured. Whoops. Too late.”

Emma surged forward, snatching the hook just before Pan was sucked into Pandora’s box from David’s outstretched hand. Neither he nor Emma hesitated for a second before they rushed to Killian where he was no more than a pile of cuts and bruises on the ground, stripped of his coat and his vest and his bravado.

David rolled him onto his side carefully, shooting her a concerned look when he didn’t even flinch.

The hook fell from her grasp and onto the ground beside them. “Killian?” Emma said softly, her hand reaching out to ghost across his sweaty forehead. If she didn’t see the rise and fall of his chest in time with the shuddering breaths he took, she would’ve been certain he was dead, because anyone else would’ve been dead.

“Emma, I have no idea how we’re going to move him when he’s like this,” her father told her, and if he were someone else, that would’ve meant that they’d run out of options, but hope was the family motto.

Emma pushed out a breath, bringing her hands back to her face, running them over her hair and locking a few fingers around her necklace. “Alright, okay, lemme think,” she said, but of course that was when her brain turned to absolute mush.

Time, nonexistent here though it was, was marked with Killian’s shaky breaths, and several minutes passed before David spoke. “Emma…” he began, and when she looked at him, that family motto was shining in his eyes. “Emma, you have magic. You can heal him.”

“I—” I can’t, she wanted to say. But it didn’t matter that she’d never done it, that she had no idea how to, because she’d do it. She’d do anything to save this stupid, ridiculous, insufferable, amazing pirate. He promised that he’d win her heart, and she wasn’t about to lose him right when she finally had a chance to let him.

“How?” she asked, hoping—yes, Emma Swan did things like hope now—he’d know something helpful.

David hesitated, as if he were gathering everything he’d ever learned about magic. “Okay, your magic is about emotion, right?” At her nod, he continued, “Well, that’s good, because you’re feeling a lot of things right now. You want to help him, to heal him, so maybe think about why?”

Emma chuckled, and it was a watery thing, but she wiped the dampness from her cheeks. “I don’t think I’ve cried this much since…I have no idea when,” she confessed.

David met her gaze, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze. “Use it.”

She took a breath, her eyes slamming shut so she could focus, but her hand didn’t leave her father’s.

Why was she crying now, this much, after everything? She wasn’t a crier (you couldn’t be in the system that long and still be a crier), so what had changed? All at once, she knew.

Captain Hook is what changed. Killian Jones had towered her walls, and now she was crying over him. Because she felt things. Things with a capital ‘t,’ and it was the first time in her life that she was finally, truly letting herself feel Things, the first time she honestly wanted to. There hadn’t really been a choice with Neal. He was just there, and that’s why she’d loved him. She was young, and he offered her this tiny piece of security and she’d latched onto it, and that was it. It wasn’t even about him, not really, not when she broke it down like that. Everything she felt for Killian Jones was about him.

Right from the start, he’d terrified her, because he could see right through her walls like they were made of glass. He read her because he already spoke the fucking language, but she hadn’t let herself understand that piece until later. But how many times had she been standing beside her family (she had that now), knowing that things were off or just not feeling right because they didn’t quite get it—but then she’d looked over and he’d been watching her because he got it. He knew. And he came back.

Killian Jones had never abandoned her. Well, there was that one time he locked her in a cell, but that was only because she’d just chained him up on the top of a beanstalk and it was honestly only fair, so that was different. Every moment when she waited for him to race off while in Neverland, when leaving her to her fate would’ve been the smart and easy thing to do, he’d proven her wrong (but she wasn’t really wrong, because she didn’t really believe it. She’d trusted him right from the start, and each time he didn’t leave her was somehow both totally surprising and totally predictable).

But it wasn’t just that. It was everything she saw in him when he thought no one was looking. The shadows that crossed his face when they ran into something familiar, the hesitance when offered assistance by anyone, the mysteriously filled waterskins that appeared by her bedroll after his watch. Everything he did for her and her family was a promise that he was no longer a villain—that maybe he’d never actually been one—and she could doubt everyone else (except for Henry), but she couldn’t doubt Killian Jones.

She was falling for him. Hard. She probably already would’ve fallen if she’d let herself, especially if she’d gone with her gut at the top of that beanstalk and trusted him, so she wasn’t about to let him die.

Emma raised her free hand, feeling all of her Feelings and thinking all of the Things, and she healed him, because she needed to. She felt the warmth that radiated from her palm, and when her eyes flickered open, there was a brilliant light that washed over his face and followed the path of her hand as she hovered along his body. The cuts shrank, sealing themselves while the blood seeped back into his skin, and when his breaths were no longer labored, she knew he was healed.

Her father gave her a proud smile (it was watery, too), but their attention was quickly brought back to the groaning pirate.

Killian’s eyes took several fluttering blinks before they focused correctly, and when he spoke, it was no more than a disoriented grunt. “Swan?”

“We’re here,” she said, releasing David’s hand to take Killian’s. “We trapped Pan, Henry’s safe on the Jolly Roger, and now all we need is for you to take us home.”

His eyes were stormy when he looked up at her, and his rough palm lined up with her soft one, and for a single, fleeting moment, it was as if he’d never felt pain in his life. The warmth, the ease, the life he felt holding Emma Swan’s hand made him briefly forget the hours of torture from Pan, and for what may have honestly been the first time in his life, Killian Jones felt safe.

There were many questions that he needed to ask, ones he hadn’t had the chance to think of with his present exhaustion, but he pushed them aside, because she was smiling that smile, the one he’d never imagined could be directed and him, and it lacked the tightness that Pan’s version had. Where Pan’s version had pranced around words, the real Swan was straight to the point and not flowery about anything. But what was most comforting about this Swan was that even though her smile was warm and lovely and nothing like he’d ever seen on her lips, he could see her walls hidden in her gaze, that lingering hesitance, and he knew. She’d come back for him.

“Think you can walk?” David asked him, and it almost made the pirate jump (centuries of always being on his guard, always prepared and aware of his surroundings, and Emma Swan gave him one smile and held his only hand and that was enough to block out the rest of the realm).

Killian nodded, and with some careful maneuvering by Swan and her father, he was upright. He wavered slightly—blood loss, he reasoned, because Emma had definitely healed him with her magic, but there was only so much magic could do—but they secured both of his arms without delay.

“Oh,” Emma paused, bending down to grab his hook. “Thought you’d want this back,” she added with a smile that was almost sheepish.

It was the way she held it that made him lightheaded (not at all related to the blood loss). Her hand was wrapped around the metal like it was nothing but also everything. She didn’t fear it, didn’t scrunch her nose at it—the way she held it was like the way she held his hand: a part of him, something she couldn’t quite bring herself to let go of.

“Thank you, Emma,” he murmured, and all three of them knew it wasn’t just for returning the hook. He gestured for her to attach it, and after a glance of confirmation, she did. And he couldn’t help but feel whole.

#once upon a time fanfiction #ouat fanfic #captain swan #captain swan fanfic #cs ff #captain swan fic #ao3 #Neverland fic #ouat neverland #this is me avoiding my novel and my other actual wip

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themosleyreview · 3 years

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The Mosley Review: Candyman (2021)

When I write my reviews I pride myself on always giving my honest and true thoughts on the film I see. In February 2020, I saw a well paced, eerie and brutal film that was true to its namesake. It had almost all the elements to be a worthy requel to a horror classic. It built upon and established a new lore for the franchise while still maintaining its own style and message. Like the audience in attendance, I had some constructive suggestions and criticism and it was great to see those notes taken into consideration. I was one of the lucky few to see Candyman months in advance. Like I said it wasn't perfect, but it was truly a love letter to the original film. Now more than a year has passed and the finished version of the film is here. I will NOT continue in this review to point out what was put in or taken out, but I will give my honest review of what I thought of the final film. That being said, this was a prime example of what happens when you have something special that gets ruined by over editing and straying away from made it so unique.

This franchise has haunted the nightmares of a certain generation and made mirrors creepy to look at. Candyman was an entity that scared me more than the Bloody Mary folktale and I never dared to utter his name in fear of a gruesome death. Now it has gotten the sequel/mid franchise reboot treatment and for the most part it was alright. It picks up more than a decade from the original film and I liked how connected it was. There were some beautifully gruesome moments and I liked that the themes of racial injustice, violence and societal stereotypes stayed true to the basis of the franchise. Where I felt the film excelled in themes, it lacked subtlety in the building of the eerie atmosphere. It felt like I was being shown a lot of images, then some violence, then a subplot that doesn't get a fair payoff and then I was rushed out the door. The film really had so many inconsistencies in tone, visuals and just the overall arc. I wanted to feel the world collapsing around the lead characters and not have it dropped in my lap with choppy editing. Luckily, the characters in the film keep you invested enough to see this new tale to the end.

Yahya Abdul-Mateen II was great and charismatic as Anthony McCoy. I liked seeing his pride and curiosity lead him down a path into madness. I did like how his art began to portray what is happening to him psychologically. Teyonah Parris as his girlfriend Brianna Cartwright, was great and I loved her chemistry with Anthony. Her story was interesting because of her traumatic life event, but it tragically was cut short and under developed. Nathan Stewart-Jarrett was the perfect as her brother Troy. He was the fun comic relief and voice of reason needed for a tonal reprieve. Rebecca Spence was perfectly stuck up and crass as the art critic Finley Stephens. Her conversations with Anthony pushes the constant message of gentrification and racial insensitivities into the forefront. Colman Domingo is one an actor that can deliver any dialogue and make it sound wise and seductive. As the laundromat owner, William Burke, he delivers a fantastic performance. He clearly was the historian of the Candyman lore and I felt the pain of the past victims in his delivery and voice. Vanessa Williams returns as Anne-Marie McCoy and she was outstanding as Anthony’s estranged mother.

The score by Robert A. A. Lowe was fantastically eerie, haunting and sometimes quite unsettling. I loved that the original theme returned and it set the tone perfectly. I just wish more scenes had time to breath without his score and THEN it would creep in. Some horror films suffer from too much music and not enough ambient noise. The fact that you can hear every bit sound makes you focus more and the sound design was great when the score wasn't present. I loved the storytelling of the past Candymen in the puppet sequences. It was heartbreaking, creative, graphic and beautiful. What I truly didn't like about this film is that it tried so hard to tie into the original film and didn't try to stand on its own. The editing in the film was off in a number of scenes as it creates a great deal of continuity errors in tone. A perfect example is when Anthony's skin is starting to decay, its rapid approaching the final stage of decomposition and then in the next shot its back to stage 2. As a whole, this was a decent horror thriller that became too indulgent on the creep factor and just about missed everything about what made the original so special. Like I said before, I saw a excellent follow up to the original 1992 classic but sadly, that was over a year ago. Let me know what you thought of the film or my review in the comments below. Thanks for reading!

#candyman #yahya abdul-mateen ii #teyonah parris #colman domingo #vanessa willams #rebecca spence #nia dacosta #tony todd

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perditaalottachocolate-blog · 4 years

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Caterwauling in the Rain

Summary: Marinette and Adrien share their very first kiss after their very first date. Chat is so overjoyed he’s ready to burst into song, albeit not all Parisians share the sentiment. Ladybug comes to investigate the complaints about a feline caterwauling in the spring rain. Luckily, it’s just her very wet boyfriend. A Miraculous Writer Zine story.

A/N: This is my piece for @mlwriterzine . I’m so happy I can finally share it! I feel honored to be among the chosen authors. I want to thank everyone, who made this zine possible, it was an amazing adventure! Make sure to read works in the zine collection, they're all a m a z i n g !

AO3

The whisper of wind in his ears, the tap of boots on the tin roofs, the pigeons nesting among the chimneys, cooing to the spring in his step. Chat Noir ran high over the streets, reveling in this late April evening, basking in the fading light of day.

Everything in his path was blooming recklessly, fueled by sunshine, turning the warmth of spring into an opulent palette of greens, whites, yellows, pinks, and every other color one could think of.

It wouldn’t have been far from the truth if Chat claimed he floated on the breeze. It certainly felt like it. Butterflies, the good kind, not the evil purple ones that’d been giving them so much grief, fluttered happily in his stomach. His chest swelled with affection as if it tried to contain all the smells and scents at once.

His heart was so full he was ready to burst into song any second now. And snugly pressed to his chest was none other than the bravest, prettiest, awesomest, and the most amazing girl he knew. The love of his life, sans the spots. Marinette Dupain-Cheng. His Lady. His girlfriend. His everything.

Her hair tickled the exposed skin under his chin, but he was too focused on carrying his precious cargo to utter a chuckle. It was her who giggled happily instead.

“I really could have gotten home myself, silly Kitty,” she murmured to his sternum. Only his enhanced hearing allowed him to pick up the words over the rush of air and the buzz of traffic.

“A gentlecat always walks the lady home after a date,” he countered, allowing a little bit of flirt to seep into his voice.

A date! he thought excitedly, his heart skipping a few beats. The very first real one, official and everything. Not that anyone paid attention to two goofy teens sharing an ice cream, walking down the banks of the Seine and doing all the carefree, silly things teens did. Bantering, picking flowers, playing tag just because. Holding hands, stealing glances, blushing. Basically half of Adrien’s bucket list went down on that date, more than he could ever hope for. It was still very fresh—the romantic side of their relationship, just like nature herself, coming to life with spring—yet he doubted the excitement of enjoying her company on both sides of their masks would ever ebb.

Alas, their time had run out all too quickly. For unfathomable reasons their parents set a curfew and warned them not to break it. Yet Adrien refused to leave Marinette to return home by herself. He announced his arrival at the mansion, claiming he was exhausted after a busy day, and dashed off to his room. The door barely had time to close behind him when Chat Noir was already leaping through the window. He scooped Marinette into his arms and vaulted them high and away from the prying eyes of pedestrians. Just a little run and they were already on the little balcony of 12 Rue Gotlib.

It wasn’t dusk yet, although darkness already settled over the city thanks to the rain clouds that flocked from the west, keeping the last rays of spring sun to themselves. A silver half-moon peeked tentatively over the rooftops, picking up the slack.

Unexpectedly the sight filled him with nostalgia. “Anything can happen at half-moon,” Chat recited absently. He didn’t remember where he’d heard the verse.

“Anything?” Marinette frowned in confusion. After all, they had just spent a delightful afternoon together. Why would his mood turn wistful so suddenly?

He decided to play it off. He grinned cheekily. “Like maybe … a kiss?”

He was pushing his luck, he knew. They hadn’t reached that milestone yet, still tiptoeing around each other after the accidental reveal, still testing the waters, although neither of them was oblivious to the other’s feelings anymore.

To his astonishment Marinette fixed him with a coy smile and threw her hands around his neck. She climbed to her toes. “Maybe,” she whispered, her lips a hairbreadth away from his. Her eyes twinkled in the moonlight.

Chat released a ragged breath against her mouth. He shuddered from head to toe as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against him. His body screamed for her, longed for her presence. But he wouldn’t dare to make the first step. He always followed her lead. He had to be sure it was what she wanted, even if he knew it wasn’t in her nature to tease him like this.

And then Marinette was kissing him. Sweetly, tenderly, with just a hint of passion simmering underneath. The gentle caress shrunk his world to just her and this moment.

He was sure he died, his heart flatlining out of sheer euphoria, his neurons fried from overjoy, his body coming apart at the seams. He floated to heaven and then her kisses brought him back to life. Back to the warmth of her embrace, to the flowery scent of her skin, and to soft kisses he knew he would never have enough of.

All too soon she withdrew, leaving his lips tingling and cold. He stumbled, dizzy with love in his heart and springtime in his lungs.

She must have thought he was being dramatic, because she ruffled his already wild mane.

“Goof,” she giggled. “Go home, before you catch a cold.”

“A cold?” He knitted his brows. “Why would I catch a cold now?”

“It’s raining, you dork.” Marinette bopped him on the nose and turned her hands up. A few plump droplets splashed on her palm.

Huh? How long did that kiss take? He hadn’t noticed when the rain started. Either those clouds had been moving faster than he’d thought, or he might have been more distracted than usual. Lately he tended to get tunnel vision in Marinette’s company, tuning out everyone and everything while soaking in her presence.

From behind the deck chair Marinette produced a black umbrella. She pressed it into his claws. “This is no dew, Kitty. It’s going to pour heavily soon.”

“Really?” He chuckled. She walked straight into this one. “I’m purring already, my Lady.” He grabbed her hand and put it to his chest. Then he released a rumble worthy of a thunderstorm.

“Besides, where I stand, the sun is shining all over the place.” He dropped the cheesy line with a flourish.

“See, you’re already delirious,” Marinette replied matter-of-factly. “Also, yes, I’m very proud of you for getting the ‘Singing in the Rain’ reference, you dorkasaurus,” she added, seeing his pout of indignation. “Now go, before you get wet for real.”

“Didn’t you mean furrrrr real?” he started, but dropped it immediately when she set him with one of Ladybug’s finest glowers. “A kiss good night, purrrhaps?” he asked hopefully.

Marinette grabbed him by the bell with such force, his hand slipped on the umbrella’s handle. She pressed her lips to his, but with more fire than sugar this time.

Snap! The black canopy sprang to its full size, startling them both.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Chat exclaimed, but Marinette just shook her head, launching into a fit of laughter. It was impossible not to join her.

“This umbrella is absolutely terrible,” she wheezed, clutching at her belly. “The ultimate killjoy.”

“You mean this is …” He trailed off, finally giving the umbrella a thorough look. Sure enough, he soon found the loopy ‘Agreste’ carved into the handle. “Oh, wow,” he whispered reverently. Marinette had mentioned the significance of that first rain they’d experienced together.

“Yup. And I want it back, mind you,” she added.

“This is an Agreste umbrella. You’d need to marry me for the name to check out, Princess.” Chat shot her with a toothy grin.

“Did you just propose on the first date, Adrien?” She raised a brow. “You might want to save something for the second one.”

“Ooops.” He feigned a horrified gasp. Incidentally, that absolutely had been on his bucket list. This was Marinette after all. “I’m gonna have to google some new ideas. But anyway, your answer would be …?”

Marinette shook her head again and thrusted her hand into his face. “You’re impossible. Just go home already before we both catch a cold.”

Right. He hadn’t noticed her shivering in the cold evening breeze, and the rain probably wasn’t helping.

“As you wish, m’Lady.” He bowed. “See you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow it is, my Prince,” she replied with a curtsy, raising the imaginary fabric of a long dress with her fingers. Then with one last playful wink, she disappeared through the skylight.

Chat sighed in contentment, drawing in the chilly, humid air. He didn’t feel even a little bit tired, more like ignited after the spectacular afternoon of romance, flirting, and banter. He leaped to the railing and elongated his baton so that it hit the pavement. Then, like a leather-clad Mary Poppins, he floated down, startling a few passersby.

“Du-dudu-du, du-du-dudu-dee-dudu,” he hummed under his breath, setting into a leisurely stroll. The rain picked up a heavier rhythm, just like Marinette predicted.

“Du-dudu-du, du-du-dudu-dee-dudu.” He continued letting his inner Gene Kelly come out and play. He always wanted to perform that song, ever since he’d watched the movie with his father ages ago. And what better place to do so than the Parisian streets, a classy background to the classic number?

He already felt the tune bubbling in his throat. He couldn’t contain it any longer even if he tried. With a theatrical shrug he folded the umbrella and propped it against his shoulder. His lips stretched into a dreamy smile when he set off again. Then came the song.

“I'm siiiingin' in the rain, just siiiiiingin' in the rain.” His voice carried over the street, earning him a few confused glances. He gave his audience a little wink.

“What a gloooorious feeling, I'm haaaaaappy again,” he claimed, jumping onto a lampost. “I'm laughing at clouds. So daaaark up above. The sun's in my heart ...” Chat’s smile turned into something more smitten as he gazed upon a certain balcony looming in the distance, “… and I'm reeeeeady for loooove.”

“Let the stoooormy clouds chase everyone from the place.” He waved at a couple making their way through the rain, hiding under an already-soaked newspaper. They chuckled at his antics and clapped, rewarding his performance.

Encouraged, Chat turned his face to the sky while throwing his arms to the sides in a truly musical fashion. “Come on with the rain! I've a smile on my face!”

He resumed his walk, nonchalantly swinging the umbrella in large circles. “I walk down the lane, with a haaaaaaaappy refrain. Just singing, singing iiiiiiiin the rain.”

Chat spotted a few phones aimed at him and chuckled inwardly. People always looked for a scoop. Alya was going to be so angry she missed this. He could almost hear her gritting her teeth. Let's give them a show, he thought as his feet carried out the routine, a mix of waltz and tap dancing.

“Daaaaaancing in the rain,” he howled. “La-daaaa-da-da-di-daaaaAAA. I'm happy again.” He grabbed the umbrella as if it were a ukulele and struck a chord, making an elated face, as if he were Luka’s more handsome twin. “I'm singin' and dancing in the rain.”

More tap dancing followed. Chat finally found a way to release all the pent-up energy that had come from the afternoon spent with the love of his life. He tapped, he stepped, he pirouetted, for his joy and for the entertainment of a significant crowd that had gathered to witness his performance. The umbrella was his partner, his pendulum, his microphone and staff. Oh, how versatile a prop this was! Chat leaped like a very wet ballerina, jumped over the puddles or right into them, frolicking in a totally unfeline manner, splashing the water onto himself and all around. A reckless, unstoppable dancing and singing machine.

Slosh! A wall of cold water washed over him, effectively ending the show. He wiped the liquid from his eyes only to see a very familiar red-clad figure holding a polka-dotted bucket, which must have been the source of his unexpected and involuntary shower.

Concern marred Ladybug’s face. She breathed heavily—she must have been running fast to get here. But why did she have to be such a … what had Marinette said? Ah, an ultimate killjoy.

“Why did you go and do that?” he complained, frowning in accusation. Water dripped from his soaked hair right into his ears. Both pairs.

Ladybug narrowed her eyes at him. “The neighbors were complaining about some caterwauling felines and I decided to investigate in case there was an akuma,” she said.

Chat shook his head, trying to get rid of the ear leak. “Well, was there?”

His partner raised a brow and smirked, taking in his drenched form.

“Oh.” It suddenly dawned on Chat that maybe performing a musical number in a city regularly haunted by mind-controlling villains wasn’t the best of ideas. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly, then shivered. “I’m cold,” he added.

“Awww, poor kitty,” Ladybug cooed. She relaxed her shoulders, no longer alert. “I need to take you home.” She tangled her yo-yo around a chimney, grabbed him at the waist and in the next moment they were already soaring over the streets.

She stopped on a roof a block away from the mansion. Her timing was perfect, as usual.

“AAAACHOOOOO!” Chat’s sneeze was so powerful Plagg flew out of the ring, taking the leather suit with him. The little kwami didn’t look happy in the least.

“Awww, shucks.” Adrien trembled. “Now it’s even colder.”

“You don’t say,” Plagg grumbled. He was dripping wet.

Ladybug sighed in disbelief. She scooped the sprite into her hand and hid him in her pigtail. Then she proceeded to lift Adrien princess style and set off in the direction of his house. Unseen and undetected by the mansion’s security system, she slipped through the bathroom window and into the warmth of his room.

A true hero, the epitome of helpfulness, she grabbed a blanket from the bed and wrapped him tight. Then, with a towel she had taken from the bathroom, she gave Plagg the same treatment.

“I’m gonna leave you to change and go to sleep,” she finally declared. “No more clowning!” She pointed a finger at Adrien.

He gave her an innocent blink. Alas, Ladybug seemed to be immune to his charm. Or maybe it was just late for her. After all he had caused her to leave the dry room and investigate an alleged akuma attack. He decided to step up his game.

“Maybe a good-night kiss?” He fluttered his golden lashes hopefully. That always got a nice fluster out of Marinette.

“Haven’t you gotten like two already?” she frowned.

“Nuh-uh, that was Chat. Adrien didn’t get any,” he complained. “Besides”—he fixed her with the delightful smile of a teenage heartthrob, his voice lowering to a murmur—“three is the charm, as Lady Luck should be perfectly aware.”

Ladybug tapped her lip thoughtfully. “Well,” she drawled, stepping closer, “you do make a compelling argument …” Then she closed the space between them.

Meowrrr, the cat in him uttered. Three was definitely the charm.

- The End -

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eurosong · 3 years

Text

Undo my ESC 2021 - Semi-final 1

Good afternoon, folks! Every year, I take a look at each semi-final and share what feasible change I would make – as small as changing a few lines of the song or an element of staging, or as big as a different song completely winning a national final – to make it even better (just in my own opinion of course!) This year will be harder than usual, but I’ll try to set aside my conviction that every 2020 artist should have been able to return to see how different SF1 might look. Let’s go!

🇱🇹 Lithuania: PiN was in the Roop's hands, and whilst I fell in love with some of the underdog songs they were up again, most notably Home and Never fall for you again I wouldn't take away the chance away from the Roop. There's nothing I'd change about Discoteque, and I love their nod to On fire, but the way that they also took things in a different direction to last time.

🇸🇮 Slovenia: I may be in a small minority, but I absolutely love Amen and I loved Voda too! Ana Soklič has so much presence and stunning vocals with so much texture and depth; she can sell me pretty much everything. My only change would be to insert Slovenian language lyrics!

🇷🇺 Russia: I was initially really disappointed that we wouldn't see the iconic Little Big on the ESC stage - but I commend the way they wanted to share the limelight with other artists. The unexpected Russian mini-NF ended up being a revelation and very diverse for its size. I liked all three songs, but I think that the best hands down won. There is nothing I have to change to Russian woman, one of the most powerful propositions of the season for me. I just hope juries will value it and we won't see a Telemóveis style situation!

🇸🇪 Sweden: After a year of being happy with the result in Sweden - I was always in Dotter's corner, but who can't love the Mamas? - we return to more familiar terrain of an MF result disgruntling me. Tusse has charisma and talent, but his song is lacklustre at best for me. My fav was, once again, Dotter, and I wish that either she'd taken the win or that the Mamas got their shot at ESC as main artists.

🇦🇺 Australia: I really enjoy Technicolour, one of the more out-of-left-field entries from Oz. I am so intrigued as to what the Diane Warren song offered to Montaigne was like, as I'm certain that this isn't it, but I'm glad she trusted her gut and went for something so distinctive. My one change would be to get rid of the unnecessary key change at the end.

🇲🇰 Macedonia: When there was a nationalistic furore with attempts to stop Vasil from representing MK, I was entirely on his side even though his song for me is one of the least appealing of the edition. I'd still want him to get his chance at ESC - but his Sudbina would have been such a more compelling entry for my taste.

🇮🇪 Ireland: Lesley Roy served nostalgic pop wonderment for the second year in a row, and another song that has etched itself already onto my life's soundtrack. I don't know what I'd change, except perhaps translate one of the choruses into Irish Gaelic - it'd make the message of a return to home even more resonant for me.

🇨🇾 Cyprus: Cyprus and I haven't seen eye to eye for several years now, and it's a shame as they were one of my favourite countries of the 90s. I do enjoy El diablo more than their last trio of songs, but I find it leans too heavy on a clear inspiration from Gaga, which takes away from some of the more original elements of the song. So, I'd rework the chorus, and also change some of the lyrics elsewhere because some lines just flat out make me cringe.

🇳🇴 Norway: I seem to have been in the minority of people delighted at MGP's final results! I had bigger favourites - the rambunctious sea shanty that is Vi er Norge, the kickass empowering Witch woods or the pulsating groove of Playing with fire - but I wouldn't take Tix' win away from him given how meaningful it was for him and what the guy has been through. My change? Revert partially or entirely to the Norwegian version, Ut av mørket; for me, it hits my heart harder.

🇭🇷 Croatia: Sincerely, my biggest disappointment of the NF season potentially - I wish Damir had been internally selected, not just because of my wish to see all ESC'20 alumni return, but because his was the best Croatian song for me since Moja štikla. Tick-tock is harmless but if we can't get a Damir return in this hypothesis, then I'd go for Rijeka, which captivated me with its epicness on first listen and has just risen in my estimation since. Though, given Nina's histrionics after coming second, maybe I'd have Albina perform the song instead.

🇧🇪 Belgium: I was prepared to not be on board with Belgium this year despite my long-lived love for the country - I found Release me, whilst orchestrated beautifully, entirely lacking in dynamism; and I really couldn't stand the way the band dumped Luka unceremoniously. And yet... this lush piece of art is one of my favs of the entire season. And there's something different and singular in Geike's voice. So the only thing I'm changing here are the dudes' attitudes to ESC so that they can value it more, especially Alex.

🇮🇱 Israël: As one of the most naturally charismatic performers of 2020, I had high hopes for Eden's return and the original idea of a mega-NF for her seemed really promising. Instead, we ended up with an uninspired strewing of songs, of which the best didn't even get the chance to be recorded by her. Set me free was my favourite of the three that got to the final, but I feel they've really worsened it with the revamp, in between the hail mary pass of the whistle vote and the extra emphasis on "I'mma". I would have Eden perform Shoulders instead - I don't know how it NQd and think it would allow her to showcase her personality a lot more.

🇷🇴 Romania: I really enjoyed Roxen's selection last year - small but quite diverse, and I felt the best song won. My change would be to have seen a similar national final with 3 or 4 other songs of hers this time, because I'm not convinced in Amnesia anywhere near as much as I was of Alcohol you.

🇦🇿 Azerbaijan: I wish they had gone with something at least a bit different rather than this cut, smudge and paste from last year that is so on the nose with its "you loved Cleopatra, so you will love this, won't you?" feel that it even namechecks the previous song. Efendi has a lot of talent and could have shown more diversity here.

🇺🇦 Ukraine: I'm getting used to the surprise revamp of Šum by now, but the question still remains for me, why did they do it? They needed to cut about a minute off the duration of the track, but to me, that doesn't explain why they also had to change the melody in large parts of the song. I'd be tempted to revert to a shortened form version of Šum version 1.

🇲🇹 Malta: Another unpopular opinion, but I'm just not that into the Maltese song this year. The lyrics are great and Destiny has poise and presence and PIPES and I'm sure she'll do well, but the style - a glammed up Electro-Velvet, essentially - doesn't heat me up, and I feel like the different parts of the composition are too dissonant from each other, like we have 2 or 3 songs in one here. My change would be for her to have gone with something more soul-ish in its sound, like AOML was.

And the AQs of this semi

🇩🇪 Germany: How did juries decide upon this, especially when there seems to have been many promising artists in the German selection? No shade against Jendrick who seems like a lovely chap, but the song sounds like the cheerful four chords on a ukulele you hear repeated as royalty free background music on Youtube tutorials, merged with a post-chorus breakdown taken from a Stefan Raab b-side. I would have gotten out my phone book and given Lilly among clouds a call - she gives me the vibes of being able to create something totally show-stopping.

🇳🇱 Netherlands: My original slight disappointment at this was more because of how high I have Grow than any fault of its own. It's another gorgeous composition from Jeangu, with probably the best set of lyrics of the year, and this is going to be a moment. I change nothing.

🇮🇹 Italy: I like Måneskin and their performances at Sanremo were brilliant - but they were far from being at the top of my favourites list. I would have given the win to Madame with Voce, or Ermal with Un milione di cose da dirti. Both would have been my #1 of the entire year, both move me deeply. Madame showcases contemporary Italian style with classic songwriting, whilst Ermal almost created a companion piece to Fai rumore - Diodato wanted to hear the sound of his loved one, whilst Ermal struggles to make a noise and say what he feels about his love.

Join me soon as I take a look at SF2 and its songs (and France, Spain and the UK, the auto-qualifiers from that semi!)

#eurovision 2021 #esc #eurovision #eurovison song contest #opinion #esc 2021

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schrijverr · 3 years

Text

'Till Death Do Us Part

Part 6 out of 13

When Alex has to bring Philip to work, he and Thomas discover that they both have something in common: they lost their love. They form an unexpected bond and connection about this that grows into something more.

A medium burn with parental feelings about Philip and flowers.

On AO3.

Ships: Jamilton

Warnings: brief mention of trauma in regards to water.

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

Chapter 6: Garden Daisy Means ‘I Share Your Sentiments’

Alex and Philip played in the park the next day. He pushed Philip on the swings, they tossed a ball back and forth, making Alex feel very stereotypical, so he taught Philip how to make flower crowns from the little daisies in the grass.

Philip was especially excited about making the daisy chains, telling Alex animatedly about making one at school tomorrow: “Yeah, Theo loves flowers, so I’ll make her one, because she is my bestest friend.”

“I’m sure, she’ll appreciate that,” Alex smiled.

“Are you going to make one for Mr. Thomas?” Philip asked.

Alex shook his head: “Probably not, buddy. I don’t think Thomas is much of a flower crown person, but it’s a sweet thought of you.”

“Why?”

“What? I’m going to need more context than that, Pip.”

“Why doesn’t Mr. Thomas want a flower crown?” Philip asked, looking heartbroken about it as he then also asked, “Is a flower crown not a fun gift for your bestest friends?”

“No, no, Pip, it’s a wonderful gift for Theo tomorrow, but are Theo and Thomas really the same?” he tried to do damage control.

Philip thought about it, then said: “No, but they both think my art is the coolest and they like hearing about dinos and Uncle Laf said Mr. Thomas really liked the flowers you gave him and that he was adorable over them, so he must like the flowers. Don’t you think, so Papa?”

“Uncle Laf said what?” Alex was unable to help himself, immediately backtracking, not wanting to involve his kid in that, “Never mind, not important. You make some really good points, Pip,” he had to acknowledge that, but he wasn’t giving Thomas a flower crown.

“I do?” Pip sounded excited about it.

“Yes, you do,” building up self esteem was good, “But Papa is probably not going to do that, because there are no flowers around the office and they will wilt if I make it now,” he wasn’t going to make Philip sad, so hopefully that would be enough.

Philip hummed thoughtfully, then shook off the entire thing: “I suppose you’re right.”

They went home soon after, eating dinner, before Alex read Philip a bedtime story. When Philip had drifted off, he gave him a kiss on the forehead: “Sleep tight, Pip. You’re going places.”

In return Philip snuggled closer into his pillow with a soft sigh. Alex smiled at the sleeping kid, before retreating downstairs, planning to work a bit on his essay about biphobia within the queer community.

He had written a few good paragraphs when his phone buzzed. He picked it up and smiled when he saw it was a message from Thomas: ‘Since you told me that if I wanted to pay so bad, I would have to ask you out and because I said I would, here is me formally asking if you have time next Saturday?

Alex giggled at the wording, before shooting back: ‘dork’

‘me and pip usually hang out on saturdays, but i think hercs free to babysit’

Thomas replied: ‘I was hoping to take you on a picnic, if Philip wants to come and you don’t mind, he’s more than welcome’

That was something Alex hadn’t seen coming. He would love if Thomas and Pip got along and it seemed Thomas was willing to spend time with his son, but he worried that the man had only offered out of guilt.

He took a quick screenshot and send it to Angelic, asking: ‘is this thomas being nice and awkward abt it even though he doesnt mean it?’

After a few seconds, she replied: ‘He wouldn’t lie about shit like that, now reply before he gets anxious about your silence’

‘yes, ma’am’

Alex quickly went back to the chat with Thomas and send: ‘ill ask if he wants to come, but iwould love to take you up on the invitation :D’

‘Good’

‘Talk to you tomorrow?’

‘yeah, see you then’

‘goodnight’

‘Sleep tight, Alex’

Alex sat for a moment smiling dumbly at his phone, looking forwards to tomorrow to see Thomas again as he got up to get ready for bed.

The next day, he quickly put his stuff in his office, before going to the break room, knowing that Thomas would be in soon and meet him there. It always took a few minutes, so Alex busied himself with making coffee, trying not to look at the door.

He was just taking his first sip when Thomas came in. Almost choking he managed to wave as he greeted: “Hi.”

“Hello, be careful there,” Thomas smirked, noticing Alex struggle with the coffee.

“Shove off,” Alex told him, finally swallowing the sip that had betrayed him.

“Nah, don’t wanna,” Thomas shrugged, making himself coffee, “How was your weekend? Did you get terrorized by Lafayette as well?”

“God, he got you too?” Alex asked.

“Naturally,” Thomas replied, “He was at my house first thing in the morning on Saturday, I think he had a notepad.”

“He is such an idiot,” Alex facepalmed.

“You’re telling me,” Thomas laughed.

“But no, my weekend was good,” Alex said after a pause, “I was over at Eliza’s on Saturday, she and Maria were watching Pip and on Sunday me and Pip went to the park. You?”

“Well, on Saturday I hosted Laf, unprepared, but it was alright,” he was not telling Alex he had been draped over the couch, dramatically recounting the entire night like a teenager, “Then on Sunday I read a bit,” and botheredJames about date ideas, which he did not appreciate, before bothering him about what would bea good message to send, which he also didn’t appreciate; he added mentally.

“Are you reading anything interesting?” Alex asked.

“Yeah, I’m reading Frankenstein, just a classic I never got around to,” Thomas answered.

Alex lit up and their conversation went on, discussing the want for bodily autonomy that Mary Shelley as a woman in that era must have had and how that was integrated into the book and how the story of being otheredcould be applied to other minorities today.

The rest of the week sped by like usual. Their lunches together had felt a bit odd at first like it had gained a deeper meaning after the date, but then Thomas had spilled his coffee and Alex had snorted and inhaled a few crumbs, so that had worn off quite quickly.

When Alex had asked Philip if he wanted to come with him and Thomas on a picnic the boy had been beyond excited, which made that easy for Alex.

Now was just the issue of making sure that they had a kite for Pip, the drawing of Mr. Thomas he had made and wanted to give to the man, and sunscreen on as well as a jacket with them, because the weather was mostly good, but there might be winds later on.

Thomas came to pick them up in his car, it was a bit flashy, but the normal amount of flashy for Thomas. Still Alex said: “Hi there, show off.”

“And proud of it,” Thomas just grinned back, before he could say anything more though, Philip came running out of the house, yelling: “Mr. Thomas, Mr. Thomas, do you know how to fly a kite? Will you fly it with me?”

“Wow, calm down, kiddo,” Thomas said to the kid clinging to his waist.

“Sorry, Mr. Thomas.”

“It’s okay, and you can call me Thomas if you want to, you know that, right?”

“But it’s rude to not call people Mister,” Philip frowned.

“Well, it’s okay with me, I am hereby giving you permission to call me Thomas,” Thomas told the kid gently, the whole Mr. Thomas made him feel old.

Philip nodded, then said: “Okay, Uncle Thomas. Do you know how to fly a kite?”

Okay, that was- that was an upgrade that Thomas was unsure of how to deal with, so he just ignored it: “Yeah, I know how to fly a kite. Do you have one?”

“Yes, it’s the bestest one, it gots all the colors of the rainbow on it!” the kid was clearly beyond excited about it.

“Wow, that sounds super awesome, kiddo.”

“What is also super awesome, is car safety,” Alex interrupted them, “I got Pip’s booster seat, do you mind if I put that on the backseat?”

“Of course not, need help?” Thomas answered.

“Nah, I’ve done this before,” Alex grinned.

With Philip’s booster seat firmly in place and the kid buckled in, they got into the car. Thomas holding Alex’s door open with a flourish, making Alex blush as he called him a dork.

“Not a dork, darlin’, just Southern hospitality,” Thomas winked at him, letting his accent coat his words heavily.

And with that he closed Alex’s door and got into the car, driving off in the direction of the nearby park Alex often visited with Pip.

After they arrived Alex got Philip out of the car, while Thomas grabbed Alex’s bag andan actual basket out of the back. When he noticed Alex staring with a raised brow, he shrugged: “You were cliché, so I thought why not.”

“It’s very picturesque.”

“Papa, what is pictuu- pictuu- that word?” Philip asked.

Breaking the eyecontact with Thomas, Alex explained: “Well, sometimes things look just like a picture, they’re put in on purpose to be pretty, like with a drawing. So, we call it picturesque.”

Philip hummed thoughtfully, before he said: “Okay, can I go on the swings?”

“Sure, buddy, but first we go find a spot to sit and maybe eat something, okay?” Alex said, taking Pip’s hand, holding his other out to Thomas with a raised eyebrow.

Thomas took it with a smile, leading them to a spot near the little pond in the park, where a tree provided both shade and an easy marker to find it again if Philip wandered off on his own, which Alex was grateful for.

Out of the basket came a checkered blanket, which made Alex laugh as he and Thomas struggled to lay in down in the wind. But there were also sandwiches, orange juice, brownies, fruit salad and a thermos with coffee.

“Wow, you thought of everything, didn’t you,” Alex whistled.

He got an eye crinkle smile in return as Thomas said: “I try,” before turning to Philip and asking, “What sort of sandwich do you want, kiddo? I got PB and J, ham and cheese and one with chicken and eggplant.”

“May I please have a PB and J sandwich?”

“So, polite,” Thomas commented, handing him the sandwich, “Here you go. Alex?”

“Uhm, can I have one with chicken?”

“Of course, there you are,” Thomas handed him a sandwich, before taking a chicken one as well, nodding a cheers to the others before eating it.

It wasn’t really quiet while they ate, neither Alex nor Philip had a talent for keeping their mouths shut while Thomas was comfortable enough to mix himself into the conversation, either to argue fondly with Alex or to encourage Philip to keep going.

When most of the food was gone, Philip asked: “Can I go on the swings now, Papa?”

Alex checked if the swings were in sight, they were actually quite close and since he was trying to let Pip be more independent, he nodded: “Yeah, just be sure to stay in sight and to come tell me if you’re going somewhere else, okay?”

“Okay, Papa.”

“Can you pinky promise me?” he might be trying to let Pip be more independent, but he still worried about his son.

“Pinky promise,” it was adorable how serious Philip looked while making the pinky promise.

Then Philip skipped off to the swings to play. Alex watched him closely until he got there, then a few moments more just to be sure.

“It’s incredible to see how much you love him,” the comment startled Alex for a moment and he asked: “Wha?”

“Just- you love Philip so much and you can see it every time you two interact,” Thomas explained, “It’s kinda amazing to see. You know, with a big family it wasn’t all that one on one, so seeing how much attention you give him is weird – in the best way of course.”

Alex blushed, no one really every complimented his parenting much, with the trans thing and the single parent and the busy job, most of the PTA moms looked down on him, so it was refreshing to hear: “Oh, uhm, thanks, really means a lot.”

“No problem,” Thomas smiled, “Coffee?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Alex held out his cup and watched it get filled, nodding to Thomas gratefully as he took a sip.

It was quiet for a moment, then a thought popped into Thomas’s head, making him a bit unsure and he asked: “Philip is calling me Uncle Thomas, you okay with that?”

“As long as you are. Pip’s never had a conventional family, I’m not sure he knows exactly what the word is supposed to mean, so he just calls adults he knows well that,” Alex explained, before quickly adding, “If you want him to stop, I can talk to him.”

“Oh, no, I don’t mind – honored, actually – just, you know,checking in.”

“Okay.”

Then it was quiet again. They both stared at the little playground where Philip was now playing tag with a few other kids, obviously done with swinging on the swings.

The sun was out and there were birds in the trees that were chirping, they were sitting on a checkered blanket, nearly completely leaning on one another and Alex was enamored by how picturesque this actually was, even if it had been teasing before.

He remembered Thomas complimenting his date and how relieved and excited that had made him, so he leaned more into Thomas’s side and softly said: “This is pretty amazing, thanks for asking me out again.”

Alex couldn't see it, but Thomas grinned as he replied: “Well, I am glad for inviting you, the company makes it much better.”

“How romantic,” Alex told him, trying, and failing, not to be touched by the comment.

“I try,” Thomas merely replied.

“So,” Alex looked around for something to talk about when he spotted the daisies in the grass and was reminded of his trip to the park with Pip last week, “opinions on flower crowns?”

“What?” Thomas sounded very confused.

He sat up straighter and plucked a few flowers, making a chain and holding it up: “Opinions on flower crowns?”

Thomas laughed for a second, then saw Alex’s face andexclaimed: “Oh my God, you’re being serious.”

Alex laughed too, before schooling his face into a more serious expression: “A trustworthy source told me these are very great gifts.”

“Oh, and who might that source be?” Thomas challenge.

“Well that would be my very own flesh and blood, Philip Hamilton, UncleThomas,” Alex emphasized the title teasingly.

Thomas grinned: “Oh, you should have said so, can’t argue with such an esteemed member of society.”

They both laughed again as Alex plucked more daisies and made a flower crown. It might have been a bit of a joke, but he had never known when to stop and he wasn’t going to start now, so he concentrated on braiding the flowers together while Thomas watched with an amused smile.

“Here, a pretty flower crown, for a pretty boy,” Alex said, handing Thomas the flower crown, taking much delight in how he had a front row seat to a blush blooming over Thomas’s entire face.

Mutely Thomas took the flower crown, mentally trying not to die at Alex’s face and words, which was really hard.

“Well, aren’t you going to put it on?” Alex asked, it was kinda mean to tease at this point, but he couldn't help it when Thomas looked like that.

“Ye- yeah, naturally,” Thomas managed, putting the flower crown on as he regained his bearings, “So, how do I look?” his voice was still a bit squeaky.

“Ah, just like I thought,” Alex smiled, “beautiful.”

“You can’t just say things like that, Alex,” Thomas tried to hide his face.

“Yes, yes, I can. I don’t know if you know this, but I’m kind of known for always speaking my mind and being honest. Can’t help it if it’s true.”

“I hate you.”

“I sure hope that’s not true or this is going to be awkward.”

It was a teasing reply, but both stilled for a moment, before Thomas slowly and softly said: “No, I- I didn’t mean that, you’re- you’re pretty alright.”

“Pretty alright… Hm, I’ll take it,” Alex was smirking, trying to play off the fact that his heart was beating like a marathon runner’s as relief flooded through his veins.

Thomas shoved him over and said: “You’re an idiot.”

“Now that- that I already knew,” Alex grinned, before getting up and looking back to the playground to check in on Philip.

He didn’t have to search much, because the boy was just running their way, yelling: “Papa, Papa, I slayed the dragon.”

“Wow, really buddy? That’s so cool,” Alex caught him as the kid practically tripped into his arms as he gestured wildly while recounting his epic encounter with a dragon and a witch and some fairies who were ‘the coolest, Papa, you should have seen then, they went pow pow and it was so cool.’

Then he spotted Thomas with the flower crown perched on his head and he smiled widely: “Did you give Uncle Thomas a flower crown like I said, Papa?”

“Yeah, I did, Pip. You were right, it was a great gift.”

“I have to agree, you have way better ideas than your Papa,” Thomas budded in.

Philip’s smile widened: “Really? I think so, but Papa is an adult and people always say adults know better.”

“Well, in some instances, adults have more experiences so they can make better decisions, but that doesn’t mean they’re always right,” Thomas said, “Kids can have interesting ideas too. Think of it like painting, experiences are different colors, but you don’t need every color, you can just make a more elaborate picture with more.”

Alex watched as Philip took a moment to think about it, before he nodded in understanding and saying: “So, I may not have all the colors yet, but I can make a good picture?”

“Yeah, exactly,” Thomas was grinning so broadly that Alex was going to loose his mind with how much he adored Thomas and Philip interacting and how fucking cute it was.

Suddenly Philip’s eyes lit up and he said: “Papa, I forgot to give Uncle Thomas his picture.”

“You can give it now, buddy,” Alex told him, reaching over to the bag he brought himself and digging through it.

“My what?” Thomas asked in the background.

“I made you a picture,” Philip was bouncing in place waiting for Alex to find it. When he did, he handed it to Pip, who in turn handed it to Thomas.

“It’s you,” he said, “You’re all purple, because you like purple like me and you have big hair like Uncle Laf and Uncle Herc do, though Uncle Herc’s is smaller and I gave you a book and a laptop ad then I thought planes would be cool, so I added those.”

“Wow, Philip, this is amazing,” Thomas said, “I feel like I should donate it to a museum, but something is missing for that.”

“What?” Philip’s face fell slightly.

“I need it signed, can’t have a masterpiece and forget who made it. What if you get famous? I want to be able to brag that I got an original Philip Hamilton drawing,” he dug around in his pocket and got out the purple pen he used to sign things when he was annoyed at Washington.

Philip took it excitedly, messily scrawling his name at the bottom, before handing it back: “Here, for you.”

“Truly, I’m speechless,” Thomas said, “I’m going to have to frame this.”

“You will?” Philip’s eyes were as big as plates.

“I am a man of my word and I promise,” Thomas told him, holding up a pinky. He had alreadyfigured out that promise meant the most to Philip at this age.

Philip happily interlocked their fingers, before Thomas carefully put the drawing away. Once it was gone, Philip asked: “Can we go kiting now?”

“We first have to put it together if you want to do that, so while I do that why don’t you drink some more juice,” Alex said, already pouring juice in a cup for Pip.

“Thank you, Papa,” Philip started drinking happily.

He struggled with putting the kite together, but luckily Thomas had more experience in putting together kites, citing his big family. So, they had it assembled by the time Philip had finished his juice.

Alex forced Philip to eat a brownie too. It might not be the healthiest, but he wouldn’t let Philip run around on an empty stomach if he could help it.

“I have no clue how to do this,” Alex confessed holding the kite. He had bought it on a whim in the supermarket about twoweeksago. However, he had no childhood memories to draw from on how to do this.

“Fortunately for you, I do,” Thomas said, taking the kite from him, “Here, let me take this.”

Alex gladly gave the task away and watched as Thomas gave Philip the handle of the kite and instructed him on what to do as he threw the kite into the air.

Philip whooped when it stayed up and Thomas cheered as well. Alex took out his phone and sneakily took a picture of the two, before cheering as well.

He flew the kite for half an hour before it went wrong. It was nothing big, just a sudden gust of wind that ripped the kite from Philip’s small hands and carried the kite away from them until it dropped into the water.

They looked at the kite for a second, before Philip turned to Alex with big eyes: “Papa, we have to save the kite.”

Looking at the water, Alex shuddered before he replied: “I’m sorry, Pip, but I can’t retrieve it for you. I think you’re going to have to say goodbye to the kite.”

“I can go get it, please, Papa,” there were tears gathering in Philip’s eyes.

In his mind images of Philip drowning flashed and quite harshly he said: “No!” cringing as Philip startled slightly. In a softer tone, he repeated: “No, Pip. You can’t swim, I’m not letting you in the water, because it’s dangerous and your clothes will get wet.”

“But- but the kite,” Philip argued.

“It was an accident, but we lost the kite,” Alex tried to break the news gently.

They were distracted by Thomas, who said: “I can go get the kite.”

“What?” “Will you do that, Uncle Thomas!”

“No, I can’t ask that of you,” Alex said, “You’ll ruin your clothes and it’s in the water and it might get cold later, it’s too much to ask.”

“I’ll be fine, Alex. Unlike Philip here, I can swim, so it’s fine if I fall. And this isn’t a natural pond anyway,” Thomas explained, “It’s made to trap rainwater so the neighborhood doesn’t get flooded, but because it’s in a kids park, it’s shallower. I don’t think my shorts will get wet.”

“You really don’t have to do this,” Alex pressed again, making sure that Thomas didn’t feel obligated just because Philip would be mildly upset about it.

“I know,” Thomas smiled as he sat down to toe off his shoes and socks.

Before he stepped into the water, he looked at Pip and seriously said: “Can you watch over our spot and your Papa for me while I go rescue the kite?”

Philip nodded, equally serious: “With my life.”

“Good,” Thomas chuckled, then set his first step.

He had been right about the depth of the pond and got to the kite without any difficulties. More onlookers had turned their attention to the water, but Thomas tried to ignore them as he saved the kite.

Returning to the shore he handed it to Philip, who beamed: “Thank you so somuch, Uncle Thomas.”

“No problem, kiddo, though I don’t think we can kite any more with the kite all wet,” he replied.

“That’s okay, I can still swing,” Philip said.

As the kid ran off again to play, Alex turned to Thomas: “Really, thank you, you didn’t have to do it, but thanks.”

“Did you see Philip’s smile? Worth it, really,” Thomas assured him.

Alex smiled, he didn’t think his heart could contain all the affection he had for Thomas in that moment, so he just hugged the man and gave him a peck on the cheek.

Thomas gently touched the spot Alex had kissed before smiling like he was the happiest man on earth, which only made Alex scream more internally.

They returned to their blanket and watched Philip play. After a few minutes of silence, Thomas lightly said: “So, water. Not a fan?”

“Ah, no, not really,” Alex replied, not sure on what to say.

“You don’t have to tell me, just good to keep in mind,” Thomas told him gently.

“Oh, no, it’s okay, just not something I talk about much,” Alex shrugged.

Thomas repeated: “You don’t have to tell me, really.”

“I know,” Alex assured him, “You know how I’m an immigrant, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I come from the Caribbean and uhm- You see, there was this hurricane that hit my island when I was seventeen. It’s- uh, it’s not something I’d recommend living through,” he told Thomas.

“Oh wow, I remember that being on the news,” Thomas felt like he had maneuvered himself into an awkward position. He was bad at comfort, with John he could relate, but here he was way out of his depths.

“It’s okay now, I got over it- mostly,” Alex shrugged, trying to move on, “Just don’t like water or storms that much.”

Thomas nodded, staying quiet. Instead he slung an arm over Alex’s shoulders and let the man snuggle close as he stared off in the direction Philip was in, though Thomas wasn’t sure if he was seeing much, so he kept an eye on the kid just in case.

After a moment, Alex asked: “Do you have one of those brownies left?”

“What? Huh, oh yeah. Here.”

“Thank you, these are amazing.”

“Why thank you, I made them.”

“You did?”

“You don’t have to sound so surprised.”

“I’m not,” a beat, then Alex said, “Well, I am, but it’s more pleasantly surprised than anything else. I didn’t know you baked.”

Thomas was glad for the change in topic and that the atmosphere hadn’t been ruined by his comment. So he replied: “It’s calming, repetitive and you have something nice at the end.”

“Never pegged you to be a stress baker,” Alex commented.

“According to Jemmy it’s one of my more redeeming qualities,” Thomas joked.

Alex laughed: “James is good in pinning people, I’ll take his word.”

“He thought you to be annoying and a dick, so I don’t think you wanna do that,” Thomas raised a brow at him.

“Schematics,” Alex waved his hand, “And in my defense, I was annoying back then, maybe even a bit of a dick, butI just aged like fine wine.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“I thought you were supposed to be on my side.”

“What can I say, I’m a man of many faces.”

“You’re a dork, that’s what you are.”

“Maybe so,” Thomas smirked, before looking over to the playground again. Philip was going down the slide, before running around with another kid. Thomas said: “He looks like he’s having fun.”

“Yeah, yeah, he does,” Alex agreed, snuggling closer into Thomas’s side.

Thomas planted a kiss on the top of his head and Alex was pretty sure he was one day going to melt out of affection.

Philip stopped running for a moment, to turn to them and wave excitedly. Alex waved back and so did Thomas. Alex couldn't stop the smile on his face, this was nice, so much nicer than he ever thought he was going to get after John’s death.

He send a quick look to the sky, slightly wistful, before fully draping himself over Thomas, earning a not-that-offended offended squawk that he ignored in favor of draping even more until Thomas gave in and let them both topple over.

Alex vowed that he was going to try to hold on to this for as long as possible.

I am not a parent btw, I feel like I should have stated that early, also don’t take this fic as parenting advise. I try to write Good Parent!Alex, but that doesn’t mean it will be entirely, bc, again, no experience in this field.

Btw, Philip not understanding Uncle and Auntie and being over at the other’s houses so much is a concept I love, bc it’s a very queer way to raise a kid. Sure, Alex is his primary care giver and dad and stuff, but a village raises a kid and- ugh, I love found family dynamics.

Also this is getting incredibly fluffy, I was worried this was going to be too dark for me with my other fics, but no within a few chapters the angst has made place for this. Love that for me *gay peace sign*

#RR writing #tw: trauma mention #Hamilton #Hamilton AU #alexander hamilton #thomas jefferson #philip hamilton #Jamilton #'Till Death Do Us Part #'Till Death Do Us Part Part 6 #'Till Death Do Us Part AU

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seriouslyhooked · 4 years

Text

Feels Like This (Part 10)

Emma Swan is a once lost girl who is now making good. She has made a way in the world for her and her young son, Henry, and after years of hard work, Emma is in her last stretch of schooling for the career she’s always wanted. Unexpectedly, she finds herself in a tiny nation no one’s ever heard of for her last year of study. She knows nothing about the place except that it’s beautiful, has a world-renowned child life program, and is filled with possibility. Meanwhile, Prince Killian is hardly happy with the title he received at birth. As the second in line for the crown, Killian has long tried shaking his royal duties. He built a career in the royal navy, and has stayed out of the limelight, but his ship has been called to port indefinitely at the request of his brother, the King. Fate (in her many forms) brings Emma and Killian together and the resulting fic is a cute, fluffy, trope filled romp featuring heart felt moments, a healthy dose of insta-love and an assured happily ever after. Story rated M and will have 12 parts. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9. Available on FF Here and AO3 Here.

A/N: Hi everybody! I am so excited to FINALLY be back with a new chapter of a fic that so many of you have fallen in love with. This response has been truly unprecedented in my writing experience. I have had lots of fics that many of you rooted for and supported me in, and I am always so grateful for that, but having a hiatus from writing this story showed me just how invested so many of you are. This is a great feeling as a writer, and that excitement you all have is the only reason I have been able to write more of this fic. My ability to write at my usual pace has been tested this fall, and there’s been some ups and downs in my attempts to reengage, but I love this story and I am so excited to share the rest of it with you all. I hope you will all like this new installment, I thank you again for continuing this with me, and I cannot wait to hear what you think!

“Mmmm, this smells delicious,” Henry said, hovering over the skillet not for the first time this evening, and breathing in the pasta sauce Killian had been working on the past half hour. To the boy’s credit, it did smell absolutely wonderful, a comforting classic anyone would love, and which the three of them had earned, after a day of unexpected meetings and introductions. This pasta was a traditional Montennaran recipe, not far off from a classic Sicilian pomodoro, but with the benefit of a few of this country’s specialties. It was a favorite of his personally, and one of the few meals he’d learned to cook well during his time in the service.

“Seriously. Who knew you could cook like this?” Emma said, still stunned at the display before them. She must have assumed from pizza night and the slow cooking speed of their first date that he was fully a novice, and he was in many ways. But he did have a few small tricks up his sleeves, and one was this sauce, which was easy to make as long as he had the right ingredients. It was quick, but precise, and it gave off the perception that he had mastered something difficult, even though that wasn’t true.

“This dish is a special one for me and for my unit. This is the spread each of us waited for during deployments. You crave so many things when you’re without them for so long, but this meal symbolized something else. The moment we’d touch down on Montennaran soil, this is the first thing we would eat. It represents safety just as much as it does a good meal.”

“You always had this?” Henry asked, his brow furrowed in confusion. “No matter what time?”

“Breakfast, lunch, or dinner. This was it,” Killian said, smiling at the memory of early morning pasta meals that he’d enjoyed more than most other moments in his time at sea. Those were the times when they all felt at peace again, and where they allowed themselves to breathe and heal no matter what dark moments had been withstood. “We took turns preparing it, tired as we’d all be from the tour and the travel, but the pressure was on. The last thing you want to do is disappoint newly anchored sailors. It’s a mistake that may just be your last.”

“No kidding,” Henry said, surprised but taking the words at face value. “It sounds so cool though. Being in the Navy, I mean. You meet all those people, people who are your family too even if you’re not related.”

“Aye, lad, they are my family. Always will be.”

“I can’t wait to meet them someday,” Henry said eagerly. Killian noticed Emma tense a bit but she didn’t need to worry. It was always his intention to introduce them all, because it was his plan to keep Emma and Henry with him forever. “Will it be like today do you think?”

“That depends on how you think today went.”

Killian’s quip earned a laugh from Henry and a soft smile from Emma. He was teasing as if the afternoon had been anything but excellent, when of course that was not the case. Despite the unexpected nature of it all, his family had been on their best behavior and they’d all immediately loved Emma and her boy. He knew in his heart they would, but it took a lot of pressure off and hopefully would help ease some of Emma’s worries about where this was going and if his family would approve.

“Today was totally awesome!” Henry said. “Everyone was so nice and cool. But Gran was definitely my favorite.”

“For now maybe,” Killian said, knowing full well what the draw of his Gran was and how her energy and feistiness made her infinitely lovable. “But give it time. My Mum and Liam both have a few more tricks up their sleeves.”

“What did you think of today, Mom?” Henry asked, and Killian was intrigued to know her thoughts. He doubted that Emma would go very deep with her assessment, but she was always honest with her son, of that Killian was totally assured.

“It was… easy,” Emma confessed, smiling at the memories of the day. “I never expected to feel so welcomed right away, but everyone was so normal, it was nice.”

“Normal is pushing it a bit, love. My grandmother’s revelations alone somewhat undermine my family’s classification as something so benign.”

“Maybe,” Emma said with a shrug. “But the families I’ve seen all have some kind of well-meaning meddling, don’t they? Hers just has a bit more royal flare.”

“Oh, Gran’s got flare all right. No doubt about that,” Henry said cheekily as he took the dishes and silverware from Emma and headed to the dining room to set the table.

It wasn’t a statement the boy had meant to be impactful, but it hit Killian right in the heart. That was another special moment from today. There was no formality with his family and Henry and Emma, and he had witnessed the moment his grandmother insisted that Henry call her Gran as well. To have Henry accept that so quickly was a blessing, and another bright spot in what had been a beautiful day.

“And what about you?” Emma asked him when they were alone. “How did you think today went?”

Instinctively Killian turned off the burner, knowing the food was ready to serve but not wanting it to be ruined. He wiped his hands clean of any rogue tomato and then he pulled Emma straight into his arms in one fluid motion. Without pause, he pressed a kiss to her lips that was meant to be soft and nonintrusive in case Henry returned, but quickly morphed to something heated when Emma clutched at his shirt and arched in closer. By the time they pulled apart, he almost forgot the question, but Emma’s curious green eyes prompted him to reassure her of the truth.

“Today was one of the best days I’ve ever known, love. The most important people in my world came together, and if my instincts are correct, it’s gone just about as perfectly as it could. I couldn’t ask for anything more than that…”

“Sounds like there’s a ‘but’ hanging in that statement,” she said, running her fingers across his cheek as she looked at him, searching for answers. “Talk to me.”

“It’s just that I -,”

“Okay, table’s set!” Henry said, barreling back into the kitchen and prompting Killian to step back from Emma but to keep his hand in hers.

Emma and Killian exchanged a look that silently said they would pick up this conversation again later, but Killian squeezed her hand in what he hoped was a calming and comforting gesture. The hanging words he’d yet to say were hardly bad ones, he just had to admit that as beautiful as today was he wanted so much more. He’d never have enough days like this one for his liking. He would always want more, no matter what came, and that was what he’d have to ask her for if not today then someday very soon.

Dinner proceeded without a hitch, and not only was his cooking a success, but the meal was fun and lively. Henry made for so much conversation, and his thoughts on the day were long and varied. He was so full of excitement and energy that it was contagious, and Killian learned more from both the boy and his mother about what they’d taken from meeting his family. They all talked about the center too, about Marco and Marie and Cecelia, and then at length about Anna and especially Elsa.

“Do you think anything will come from it?” Emma asked Killian at one point, after they’d already dissected how undeniable the moment was between Emma’s friend and Killian’s brother.

“Oh for sure,” Henry said before Killian could respond. Both Emma and Killian laughed at his confidence.

“You seem rather certain, lad.”

“Well it’s pretty obvious. I mean he looks at Elsa the way you look at Mom. They’re totally gonna get together. It was love at first sight. Just like with you two.”

“Henry,” Emma said, chastising him somewhat but in a measured way.

“What?”

“Well not for nothing, but you didn’t even see Killian and I meet how could you know it was…”

“Love at first sight?” Killian offered, grinning at her, knowing in his heart that was exactly what they’d felt the moment they laid eyes on each other.

“Exactly.”

“Oh, come on, Mom,” Henry said, rolling his eyes in a move Killian rarely ever saw, but which looked exactly like his mother when she was exasperated. He nearly choked on his water, but he powered through, biting back a laugh at Emma’s shocked face. “It was totally love. You came home extra happy and you had a dreamy look on your face all the time when Killian started volunteering. And since then you’ve been kinda… what does Mrs. H call it again? Oh right, scatterbrained. Love can do that, you know. I asked Gran about it today and she said it’s a telltale sign.”

“You asked her that?” Emma asked, shocked and maybe just a little bit mortified as Henry nodded like it was no big deal.

“Yup. She knows everything. She said that’s what happens when you’re old, and since Mrs. H says that too I think it’s probably true. Come to think of it, they’d be great friends don’t you think?”

“Mrs. H and Queen Eleanor?” Emma asked, as if the thought of their neighbor and Killian’s grandmother being ‘friends’ was too much to handle. “Well I mean, now that you mention it, there are a few similarities there.”

“Totally. And if Mrs. H was here she’d agree with me about Liam and Elsa. It’s totally love, and that’s awesome. Queen Elsa. It has a nice ring to it. Like she was meant to be a royal.”

Killian didn’t think Elsa was the only one with a name suited for royalty. In his estimation Princess Emma and even Prince Henry were rather fitting as well, but he bit that statement back, not wanting to overwhelm Emma or bring something up in front of Henry that she wasn’t ready for. Instead he steered the conversation in other directions, enjoying himself thoroughly as they all enjoyed dessert together that Emma had put together before watching a movie the three of them. It was a totally natural thing, and at more than one point Killian thought that they really looked like a family. It filled his heart with hope, and he wished one day he could officially claim both of them as his. But tonight, he’d just enjoy how good it felt to be with two such special people who seemed to see something in him too.

“Okay, kid, it’s about that time. It’s late already, so PJs and then you can read two chapters and then that’s all she wrote. You got me?”

“Sure, Mom. But can I read to Killian tonight? I’m at a great part in the story. The pirates are about to board the ship.”

“Um, I’m not – I mean, if you want?” Emma asked deferring to him though she was obviously flustered.

“Sounds good to me,” Killian said prompting relief in Emma and a sound of excitement from Henry.

Henry hurried to get himself ready for bed, and just as he’d promised, he proceeded to read Killian two chapters of his current book. The title was one Killian recognized from his youth, but he was impressed that a ten year old had such command of the story. Henry was a good reader but also theatrical, keeping Killian’s attention all the while. Only when he closed the book did Killian leave the swashbuckling alternative universe the story took place in.

“Quite the tale there, lad. You’ll have to keep me apprised of what happens next.”

“No need, I’ll save it until you come back again,” Henry said easily, gesturing to his bookcase which was full of books in so many shades and shapes. “I’ve got tons of them to read.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Killian said truthfully standing back up and heading towards the door. “Well thanks again for the story, Henry. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Killian,” Henry said, letting out a yawn and settling into bed. “Love you.”

The words placed a direct hit on Killian’s heart, and he was unsure if Henry had meant to say it or if sleep was getting the better of him, but Killian could only go on instinct. He answered honestly, telling the boy he loved him too and seeing him smile and settle to sleep before slipping into the hall and walking right into Emma who had tears in her eyes.

“Emma?” he asked, mindful to keep his voice more a whisper than something that could wake up Henry. “Is everything all right?”

“He said he loves you,” Emma whispered, and Killian nodded, brushing her tears away as he held her close.

“He did, love, and it made me feel ten feet tall.”

“Because you love him too,” she whispered, awed at that as if were some kind of stunning revelation and not a given fact of life.

“Of course I do. He’s an amazing boy, and his mother… well she’s the beating of my heart. How could I do anything but love him when he’s a piece of you, Emma?”

“What were you going to say earlier?” Emma asked, abruptly pulling them back to that moment in the kitchen. He debated holding back, but he decided ultimately it was better to put all of his cards on the table. Transparency was key if they had any shot of making this work.

“I was going to say that you, Emma Swan, are the reason. You’re my reason for everything, this impossible gift I never saw coming, and I’m lost in you. I see this perfect moment and forever when I look in your eyes, I see a life I’m desperate to pursue and real hope for the future. I still can’t believe that you’ve chosen me and that I’m standing here with you at all, and a day as good as this one only reminds me that I’ll always have this want - this need - for you. I love you, Emma, irrefutably, incandescently. In a forever and so much longer kind of way.”

“I love you too. Just as much,” Emma said, her voice stronger this time though her tears still came. They appeared to be the product of joy instead of sadness, but they still clutched at his chest like a vice. The only antidote was pulling Emma somewhere private, in this case her bedroom, and confirming he was right.

Once the door was closed behind them, locking them into a sound tight suite on the other end of Emma’s temporary home, their actions blended together. He didn’t lead the way, but moved with Emma, a dance that felt so much more practiced than it was. Emma pulled him for steamy kisses, and he savored her taste on his tongue as he held her close and moved her back towards the bed in her room. The lights were dimmed, but washed the room in a warmth he felt upon his skin. He was burning up from the closeness and the promise of what was to come, but the only thing he could think was that he needed more.

In the back of his mind, Killian also realized that this moment needed quiet. With Henry in the house, they didn’t have the freedom he might yearn for, but no matter. He had the love of the most incredible woman and she’d accepted his love in return. That needed celebration and merited some long-desired reveling. He wanted to show her how he felt, and though he’d finally said the words and attempted to make her understand, the feelings he had went so much deeper. Looking in her eyes right now, he could tell she felt just as much, but the time for waiting and wondering was over. They had put the truth between them and now it was time to truly immerse themselves in it.

Instinct and hunger soon took over for Killian, melding with the love he felt and the softer feelings in his heart in a wickedly wonderful way. He wanted Emma bared to him as soon as could be, spread out on the sheets of this bed and ready for his taking. They’d been flirting with the pleasures they could have for a while now, and they’d been intimate before, but this was different. This was a first in many ways, and Killian was intent on having this moment be one they wouldn’t rush, and that they’d remember for the rest of their lives.

A primal voice in his brain urged him to take her fast and hard, to make a claim they’d both feel branded by, but Killian anchored himself to an idea of something slower and more sensual. He knew taking his time would prove so much more gratifying, and he wanted to make this as good for his Swan as it could possibly be. He helped Emma out of clothes, noticing the tremble of her hands as he did. She was buzzing with excitement and electricity, but she matched his pace, understanding that if they drove each other crazy for just a little longer it would be sublime.

He was entranced by her entirely, and as her clothes from the day fell away, revealing two extremely unexpected scraps of red lace underneath, he couldn’t help but groan. No woman had a right to be so lovely, to claw at him so surely, and to set him alight in this way, but God did he love it. Emma was impossible, but somehow she was real. He felt her responsiveness to him and tracked the way that she noticed how his appreciative gaze moved up her body. A flush spread across her creamy skin, but she stood there, proud and sure as her hands moved across his body, removing his clothes as he’d done hers.

“I didn’t know that I could want this much,” she whispered, the honey-laced tone of her voice a sweet melody to his ears. “I need you, Killian. I love you.”

“Fuck me,” he grumbled, surprising her by taking her in his arms and lowering her to the bed. She let out a gasp before giving into laughter, her eyes bright and sparkling in the lamp light.

“Believe me, I’m trying,” she quipped, but her feistiness faded somewhat as he shed the rest of his clothes. Now her attention had switched, she was watching him steadily, and unconsciously licked her lips. That was it. His patience broke and he was on her, hands roaming, mouth teasing, and hellbent on more.

“Much as I might love that idea, Swan, tonight isn’t about fucking. Tonight I make love to the woman of my dreams. Tonight I show you my heart in full. It’s so much more than sex.”

“I know,” Emma whispered, running her hands along his cheek. “So show me.”

Bound by her request, Killian set out to do just that. It began with roaming hands and removing the last two scraps of red that shielded her from him. Once she was bare, he let himself explore and learn every spot and lick and nip that made her breathless. He traced the sensitive places on her body that made her hum in pleasure, and cherished each freckle on her skin that had come from the summer sun. He riled her up with his hands and his mouth until she was pleading for release, and then he gave it to her, touching her tender flesh and prompting a thready moan from her lips.

“Killian.” Emma’s croon was ragged and gorgeous, making him harder than he ever thought possible. The sound of her desire reached within his soul and engulfed him completely. Unable to resist, he felt himself growing addicted, unsure if he could ever stop. He needed her sighs like he needed to breath, and he purposefully pulled as many sounds of pleasure from her as he could.

There was nothing like Emma lost in lust. She’d never been more beautiful and he didn’t know how that was possible. As his thumb swirled against her clit and his fingers filled her, she gave more away, revealing herself and her needs in ways that made him dizzy. Every response set Killian aflame, and every breathy sigh and plea for more was a sign he intended to follow until he’d led her right over the edge and she shattered beneath him.

“You destroy me, love,” he found himself saying as he looked down at her and brushed some strands of her curled blonde hair out of her eyes. “Destroy me and make me into so much more. I’m in awe of you.”

In the face of her release, and the sincere words that he meant completely, Emma blushed again but smiled. Her expression was one he’d only ever seen her share with him, and it made him feel indestructible. He’d never met a person with more impact on his soul, and he’d never met a woman who so effortlessly created hope and good in his heart. Emma Swan was everything a man could ever want made real, and Killian still couldn’t comprehend how he was lucky enough to be here.

“I can’t imagine this is real,” Emma said, her words still dazed, but happy and content. “But I know it is. I know you are. I’m in this, Killian. I’ve never been more in.”

“Thank God for that, love,” Killian said with a grin and one more kiss before he trailed lower.

With careful attentions designed for maximum pleasure, Killian hit each peak point on her body, bestowing licks and nips that made her jump and mewl. By the time he’d reached her inner thighs, she was breathing heavy, anticipation clear as day. Killian looked up to her now emerald colored eyes as his hands held her steady, needing to know that this was what she wanted and what he saw was irrefutable. Emma was just as desirous for this as he was, and Killian was never so glad for anything in his life.

When his tongue met her sex, he tasted her need for him. Her body writhed beneath him, but he held her still, knowing she needed this from him now. She was wound up tight, the desire twisting around inside her and making her try to break away, but he built it up wanting to give her something she’d never get enough of. With slow, languid licks, he built the moment for him and her. The higher she climbed, the more crazed he himself became, but he waited until she shattered again to take his own pleasure. Once she had, though, all bets were off.

Their coming together was sensational serenity, walking the line between hard and gentle, tender and heated. Further and further they moved towards bliss, but time was off its normal tracks and their minds were filled with only this glorious moment. Soon enough, and yet not soon enough at all, they met that magic, crashing into climax. Minutes later they remained, both spent and breathing heavy, glowing from the aftermath and intertwined together, two bodies hell bent on never being parted. Killian found himself speechless in the aftermath, though his hands drew unknown figures on her skin. He had to touch her, had to hold her, even though he had just felt heaven itself. Truth be told, Killian was totally complete, and more invigorated than ever. Life had never felt more perfect and nothing had ever made more sense.

These revelations were all thanks to Emma. She was the one who made him believe love could be honest and true. She showed him depths he’d never dreamed of, and right now, as the swift and gentle tug of sleep came beckoning, she was a vision. Smiling at him, holding him close and whispering a promise he almost couldn’t bear.

“Forever, Killian,” she breathed, cuddling towards his chest after pressing one last kiss upon his skin. “That’s how long I know I’ll love you.”

“Forever, Emma,” he replied, though he knew even now she may already have succumbed to slumber. “Forever and whatever exists beyond.”

……………

Sneaking back into the castle now was a stark contrast to the many mornings he’d snuck out for a bit of space. Killian couldn’t resist smiling at how much things had changed since that time, and on those days when he walked out in the hills to watch the sunrise. However, unlike those other mornings, Killian knew the moment he walked through the great oak doors that he was not the only one up at this God forsaken hour. Call it instinct or intuition, but Killian could sense uneasiness in the palace, and as he moved up the corridor and saw light emanating from one of Liam’s studies, his hunch was proven right.

With measured steps he approached the open door. It remained ajar, a beacon to anyone who may pass by that his brother was here but still approachable. What Killian saw when he walked to the doorway, however, was the undeniable truth that Liam was not well, and that he likely had no idea the door was open. He’d been up all night, burning the midnight oil, and studying files and photos strewn about his desk.

“For your information, you’re about…” Killian’s words trailed off as he checked the clock on the mantel to clarify the time, “twenty-two and a half minutes from being discovered by Francine or Claudette. Give or take or minute or so.”

The mention of two of the maids on the morning shift in the palace seemed to ground Liam into the reality of this moment and the predawn light outside. He looked up at Killian and then out the antique windows which offered a familiar view of the palace grounds, now bathed in the early morning sunshine. Liam let out a sigh, running a hand through his dark hair that had already been mussed with some frequency. There was no way his brother had slept this evening. He was wild and unkempt, and so far from his state of normal it was fascinating to see.

“Any other day and I’d be focused on your early morning return,” Liam mused, offering something like a smile. It surprised Killian, given how infrequent smiles had become for his brother, but before he could mention it, Liam looked back to the papers and the books strewn about the mahogany desk. Killian wasn’t sure what he expected, but these archives of the family’s public events was not it. His curiosity grew, and he urged his brother to explain himself.

“But it’s not so ordinary, is it?”

“No, she isn’t,” Liam whispered, slipping up and referring to the woman who had turned his head completely, instead of the morning itself. “I didn’t plan for this.”

“No one ever does,” Killian quipped. “Gran will be the first to tell you that to love is to surrender. Planning has no place in affairs of the heart.”

“That old bird is too crafty,” Liam said shaking his head as Killian’s brow furrowed in confusion. “All these years of talk, throwing opinions here there and everywhere. She never met a moment where words failed her and she never lets a day slip past where she doesn’t share her every whim. But I’ve always written it off as her opinion or some grandiose turn of phrase that sounds ripped from a book of clichés rather than something rooted in truth.”

“The worst are the riddles. The woman loves a riddle,” Killian added and Liam groaned, a sound of actual pain that Killian felt, despite its humor.

“I hate the bloody things. The flowery words, the abstract philosophies. It’s all just meaningless. Or so I thought. A whole life spent listening to this woman, and I never took much of it seriously. To be sure there were some times when she offered sage counsel, but I found it unlikely that she was actually providing me with answers to anything really sentimental. Half the time she’s as vague as can be. I wrote off nearly all her musings for the better part of my life.”

“Yet here we are,” Killian said evenly and Liam nodded.

“Aye, here we are.”

Liam stood from his chair and walked towards the windows. Killian watched as his brother’s arms crossed over his chest, his gaze turned out to the world, looking but not really seeing. He was lost in his own thoughts, struggling to give voice to them, and so Killian was patient. There was no use dragging Liam to conversation. His brother was guarded and grappling for control. Only when he was ready, would the truth come out. A few minutes later, after a prolonged bit of silence, they finally did.

“I’ve long put off the inevitable, brother. Royal expectation demands that I choose a bride, but for years I’ve hesitated, unwilling to commit to any kind of match. The press has questioned my delay for ages, but that talk is mostly harmless. Still, I have always known that would change. A day would come when talk became more, and I needed to settle, to choose duty over heart.”

“You’ve said as much before, brother, but nothing in the law says that you have to forsake your heart for the sake of the country. A love match is allowed. You know this.”

“Aye, I do, but I never entertained the premise, not really. After our parents’ fiasco of a marriage, I ruled it out entirely. My best hope was for what had existed before, something arranged where, if I was lucky, love may bloom. Look at Gran and Grandad. It was love, absolutely, but it was also a merger. There was very little choice involved at all, just logic and good reasoning. At least in those situations you know what you’re getting into. There’s a safety in settling for that which is known. But fuck if I want that anymore. Truth be told the thought makes me sick, and I barely spoke to her.”

“To Elsa, you mean?” Killian prodded and Liam’s eyes brightened as he nodded.

“How can she move me like this already? One day in her presence and I hardly know myself. One day and I know that everything I thought would happen will never come to pass. I’ll never be the man that settles, not when I know she’s out there. I can’t describe it except to say that I have to know her, have to pursue this, have to hope she’ll give me a chance. I’ve never felt this out of my depths. I saw her and the rest of the world just ceased to matter. I wasn’t the King, or a ruler, or a politician. I had no duty and no course. I was just a man, and she was the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, plain and simple. I know it’s mad, but damn if it’s not true.”

“If it’s mad, you’re in good company. That’s exactly how I felt the first time I saw Emma.”

“That’s reassuring, and yet… it’s the strangest thing, I swear I looked at Elsa and I was halfway in a memory. I was a boy again, but the details were hazy. It just felt familiar, like we’ve met before. My heart had skipped that particular beat. My gut had felt that strongly. Now though I’m lost. I’ve been trying to figure out if it’s more than what it is. Maybe I missed something, but how could anyone ever miss her?”

“Ah that explains these books,” Killian said gesturing to everything here. “But let me guess, no sign of her in these.”

“None. But the feeling still lingers. It’s like I dreamed her up. The recognition is strong, but just barely out of grasp. God, listen to me. I’ve become an absolute melt.”

Killian couldn’t help but laugh at the slang of their youth. Their boarding schools had been filled with Brits and other Europeans, and to be a melt was to be a sop, a sap, someone who had given in to their most romantic feelings.

“Maybe, but if that’s true, God knows I’m happy for it.”

“You are?”

“Of course I am. I’ve always wanted more for you, Liam. You shouldn’t aim for mere contentment, or to just be comforted by honor and duty. The goal is to be genuinely, honestly happy, and this morning, despite the anxiety of newness, I see the start of something in you. Something good.”

“I fear I’ve been too hard on you, Killian,” Liam said, his voice softer and his tone sincere. “Not lately I mean, and hopefully you’ve noticed the shift over the past few weeks, but in the beginning, I didn’t see how you could feel so much. I asked a lot of you, with the parade and royal obligations, and I didn’t realize what the risk was. Slowly I’ve grown to understand that the changes in you I have seen can only be attributed to love. You are happy and it is clear for the world to see. I’ve respected that, but now to know it’s more than hypothetical, I just think it bears repeating. To lose this feeling…” Liam brushed his hand against his heart absentmindedly, as if his chest ached from some physical pain. “Anyway, I hate that I forced that choice upon you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s forgiven, brother. Well, it will be, if you grant me one wish.”

“Anything.”

“I’d like your blessing, and not a royal one, not a King’s well wishes. Just you, as my brother, backing me when I ask Emma to be my wife.”

The look of surprise on Liam’s face quickly morphed into a grin. There was his brother of old, the one who had existed before royal training. He was truly happy and a bit mischievous as well. The two of them had long been told they shared that smile, but coming from Liam, it felt like a most precious gift.

“You plan to ask her already?”

“Already?” Killian laughed. “It feels like I’ve been waiting forever. But I suppose you’re right. It is fast.”

“Fast seems to run in this family,” Liam said thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t have said that before yesterday, but as it stands, I understand. You have my backing, Killian. Emma is right for you, and if she’ll have you, we’d be lucky to have her.”

Liam came around the table, hugging Killian and showing him the depth of his joy. It was genuine, this support from his brother, and it made a world of difference. No matter what, Killian would ask Emma to be his wife, but knowing that his family felt as good about this as he did settled something in him. Now all he had to do was find the perfect moment. It was hard to be patient, especially when they’d admitted how they felt, and when he knew his feelings for Emma would only ever grow, but he’d find away. More than anything he wanted Emma to have a perfect moment, one they could build their future on forever more.

“And what of you and Elsa? Where do you go from here?”

“The only way I can go,” Liam said, resuming his assured control even though he was at the precipice of something totally foreign to him. “Towards her.”

“Good man. Trust in that feeling. It’s yet to steer me wrong.”

The two of them would have no doubt shared more, but at that moment, the voices of the morning staff could be heard down the hall. Their privacy had expired, the day had dawned, and reality beckoned, yet Killian knew even without proof, that things would work out. For now, there was a tremendous amount of hope for both him and Liam, hope that had been missing for many many years. Things may still be a bit uncertain, hearts needed to be won and vows needed to be made, but in his soul, Killian knew it would all work out. For Gran was usually right in the end, and he and Liam would both certainly surrender to love. Killian, for his part, already had, and honestly, it was the best damn thing he’d ever done. Soon, though, he would need to do more, to take the steps he so badly wanted with Emma, and to build a life with her and Henry worthy of them both. It was a mission he felt down to his bones, and one he simply would not fail. He’d find a way to their happily ever after, whatever it may look like, and the excitement of that would keep him going as long as it took.

Post-Note: So there we have it – a new chapter of this story, and the setup for the next chapter which will have more of the Elsa/Anna backstory for you all. From there we get to move towards my typical happily ever after recipe, a proposal, a wedding, and the joyful thereafter. I think there’s going to be about 4 more installments left total (though one of those will be an epilogue and it may be quite a while before I am ready to publish that). But I promise to do my best to update more frequently than I have been. I have had so many of you sending love and wishes for faster updates, and those requests have not fallen on deaf ears. In fact, every comment and message makes writing that much easier, and I am so grateful for the overwhelming support. I promise I am doing my best to get you all this story, and just hope it’ll live up to everyone’s excited expectations. Either way, I thank you all so much for reading, and I wish you all well and healthy in this time. Sending you all the best!

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