#cs pining

[metalandmagi]

I need the third Dark Rise book to come out right fucking now because I really want to make a post describing how each song on The Tortured Poets Department would fit into the story as if it were a musical like I did for Reputation and Captive Prince.

[princess-and-the-swan]

MC Fic Rec: Walking in a Straight Line

By msgenevieve447 | Rating: M

It's one of the oldest stories in the book. Two old friends have a few too many drinks, two old friends share a kiss. Happens all the time, right? But what happens when only one of them actually remembers it? A wonderful friends to lovers/roommates au, but what I love so much about this fic is how interesting Killian and Emma's dynamic remained even after getting together. If you're into domestic fluff and a side of Snowing, this is the fic for you!! Plus, there's a separate prequel AND sequel!

Read it on ff.net

Read the prequel and sequel

[donteattheappleshook]

His - A Captain Swan AU Chapter 4/10

Summary

Mature widower with good home wishes to make acquaintance of a hardworking girl or widow. No children. Object matrimony.

When Emma Swan flees scandal in New York to marry a man she’s never met in Storybrooke, Montana, she doesn’t have any illusions of finding love. But when she’s picked up at the station by Killian Jones, it finds her regardless. Despite sharing his home, his bed, and his heart, she can never truly be his.

Read it on Ao3 (where my italics work...)

Catch up on Tumblr 1 2 3

Thank you thank you thank you @elizabeethan and @the-darkdragonfly​ for all your help with this fic! the best pocket friends and besties an girl could ask for!

******

Part 4

“There you are,” Killian smiles when she finally comes outside to meet him. 

She’d stood in the kitchen for a long time, turning the comb over between her hands as she considered it, tracing her fingers over the flowers. She wanted to wear it. Of course she did, it was beautiful, a gift from someone who had cared enough to notice that she’d coveted it. But she didn’t know what it would mean to wear it. Was it just a simple gift from one friend to another, from a son to his father’s wife? Or was it something more, something inappropriate that she couldn’t even let herself consider. 

“Oh, you found it,” he says, then frowns as she continues to turn it over in her hands. “Is something wrong?”

She shakes her head no even though there is - or at least, there could be. “It’s lovely. You shouldn’t have.” 

“Of course I should. I haven’t given you a wedding present. I know there wasn’t time for a celebration or gifts so I thought you should have at least one.” Emma lets out a sigh of relief. A wedding present. A gift to celebrate her marriage to Brennan. Something perfectly sweet and acceptable. She feels silly, idiotic even to have read more into such a kind gesture. 

“I hope it’s alright,” he adds when she doesn’t answer. “It’s only that I noticed you admiring it in the shop…”

“It’s perfect,” she promises and his anxiety begins to fade. 

“I just thought you might like something nice. I know that you must have left behind a far more glamorous life for rude cows and nothing but fields and mountains. A bit of a step down, I’d assume.” 

“I like the fields and mountains.” She gives him a small, hesitant smile. “Your family and your home aren’t a step down. My life in New York wasn’t nearly as glamorous as everyone seems to think it was.”

He considers her for a moment. “I suppose I don’t know much of your life before you came here. You just showed up one day in your pretty dress from the big city and sent the whole town aflutter,” he smiles. 

She returns it as best she can, wondering how much of that life she’ll be able to keep secret, if the scandal will follow her all the way out here. “Thank you for the gift, Killian.”

Killian nods, hesitating as though he can tell she’s keeping something from him, but he only smiles again. “Would you still like to see some more fields and mountains?”

He takes her along the property line, walking the length of the fence, the other side of which, he explains, belongs to the Mills family. “She gets very austere about borders. She’s tried to report us to the sheriff a few times for encroaching on her land,” he rolls his eyes. “Best to avoid her if you can,” he cautions. 

He walks her along a creek that he explains is also a property line - that he and his brother used to play here when they were children and hiding from chores. They’d make ships from paper or sticks and race them down the stream until one of their parents found them. “It’s still a good spot to swim on a hot day.” 

They come across a herd of cattle, Robin and David waving to them from astride their horses. “What are they doing?” 

“Making sure nobody steals them.” Her eyes widen. “And catching any that run off.” 

“Does that happen a lot?” 

He shrugs. “From time to time.”

“Where’s your father?” Were these not the fields he was speaking of? 

“Plowing around the back pasture. He prefers to work alone most days. Happy to complain about the lack of help though,” he rolls his eyes. “At harvest we take on a few temporary workers.” A somewhat awkward silence settles between them as she wonders how often Brennan complains about Killian not being able to help with farm work. “Come on, I think you’ll like this place,” he promises, gesturing further out across the field. 

He takes her to an orchard, rows and rows of trees in full bloom offering a little shade from the day’s heat. It’s beautiful, brilliant green everywhere, deeper than the fields and the hills, spotted with pink and yellow. “This was mine and Liam’s favorite place when we were boys. We used to see who could climb the highest. The sweetest fruit grows at the top.”

Emma smiles. “Who won?” 

“Me, of course.” 

She laughs. She should have expected that. “My friend Lily and I used to climb the apple trees that grew behind the orphanage and sneak some back to our room. We always got in trouble for it though.” Her smile doesn’t fade at the memory. It was always worth it. 

It’s a moment before she realizes she’s mentioned the orphanage, something she usually doesn’t tell people about, and he’s watching her carefully as they walk between the branches. 

“Well, there’s nobody to get you in trouble for it here,” he says. And maybe she imagines the challenge in his words, in his raised brow, but regardless, she decides to rise to it. “What are you doing?” he asks, smile amused as she kicks off her boots. 

“What does it look like?” She takes hold of a low branch. The trees aren’t very tall, nothing like the ancient pines that she can see growing in the mountains, but she’s out of practice, heaving herself up clumsily. The last time she did this she didn’t have a corset. 

“Emma…” Killian laughs as she continues to climb. “Be careful.” 

She scoffs. “Afraid I’ll beat your record? Or was your bragging about your climbing skills just talk?”

“I’ve got one hand!” he laughs and she rolls her eyes. Alright, it’s a decent excuse. She continues, making her way up to the higher branches, until any higher would be too thin to support her weight, and shimmies out onto one of the sturdier ones, reaching for the ripe peaches that grow above her head. 

“Catch,” she calls, picking one and tossing it down to him. When he catches it with ease she throws down a few more and beams at him. Emma takes a moment to enjoy the world from up here, the sun brushing her skin in patches between the leaves, the breeze warm and the air sweet. It’s the freest she’s felt in a long time. For a few minutes, she feels like herself again. 

“Are you stuck?” Killian teases from below. 

“No,” she answers immediately, almost offended, before realizing… she might be. 

He chuckles. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” No. 

He huffs another small laugh, rubbing one of the peaches on his shirt and taking a bite, waiting. “You know,” he says after a few moments. “I’d hate to leave you out here but someone has to make dinner if you’re going to spend the night in a tree.” 

“I’m fine,” she says, snippy against his teasing. She just needs to figure out how to get down from a tree without breaking her neck or hiking her dress up in front of a strange man. She probably shouldn’t have climbed the damn tree in front of a strange man in the first place. “Just… turn around,” she orders and he smirks but does as she asks. 

Right. Well, the tree isn’t that tall anyway, she reminds herself, throwing a leg over from where she’d been straddling the branch and sitting, looking down warily. It’s not that high. 

Killian whirls back around at the sound of her small shout, reaching her just in time to see her land on her ass on the soft grass. 

“Are you alright?” he demands, kneeling next to her and placing a hand on her shoulder, then her cheek to make her look at him. He looks a little frantic and she almost laughs. 

“It was nothing.” She notices his empty arms then. “Did you drop the peaches?” 

He looks back at the small pile behind him. “I thought you were hurt.” 

“I risked my life to get those!”. 

“I thought you said it was nothing,” he smirks. 

“That was before you threw them away.” 

Killian laughs, shakes his head and stands, retrieving the fruit and handing one to her as she makes her way back to her feet. “Here.” 

“Thank you,” Emma says, dusting her hands off on her dress before taking the peach from him.

“What are you going to do with all of these?” he asks, arms full of the fruit she tossed. 

She picks another few from the lower branches, makes a basket from the top layer of her dress and tucks them in it. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll make a pie.”

“You know how to make pie?” 

Oh, right. “No. But there’s a recipe in Granny’s book and I think I could figure it out.” 

“One afternoon with the woman and you’re ready to take over her business.” 

“I’m not afraid of a challenge,” she shrugs. 

“Oh, I know,” he teases, stepping closer and her breath catches at his nearness. His hand lifts to her hair and the corner of his mouth pulls up as her heart races traitorously. Then he plucks a leaf from her braid, holding it out in front of her with an amused smirk and her face flushes in embarrassment. 

It’s all in your head, she reminds herself. Stop imagining things as more than what they are - things that aren’t even there. 

“Should we head back?” he suggests, flicking the leaf away. Then his expression grows more hesitant. “We can circle around to the eastern field if you’d like to see my father before he comes in.” 

Emma thinks of the way Brennan had dismissed her offer to visit him this morning and his unpleasant mood before he headed out. “Let’s not bother him. I should get started on dinner anyway.” A better meal than yesterday’s is her best shot at improving the impression she’s made so far on her husband. By Killian’s silence as he agrees and leads them back in the direction of the house, he’s likely also remembering his father’s harsh rejection.

“What do you grow out there?” she asks to break the awkward quiet that’s grown between them. 

“Wheat mostly. There’s corn as well but it’s for the livestock and doesn’t take much tending.”

“I thought it might be nice to start a garden,” she suggests hesitantly. “Grow some vegetables in the patch out front. It would make it easy to tend while I’m working inside.” Emma looks at him out of the corner of her eye to try and gauge his reaction. If he thinks it’s a silly idea then there’s no chance Brennan would support it. But his son might be able to convince him to agree. 

“I think that’s a brilliant idea,” he smiles. “I could help you dig it up - if you need help.”

“Help would be great, thank you.” She’d already planned ahead, ordering vegetables that grow easily from the store today that she could use for meals and then keep the scraps for replanting. “You’re sure you don’t mind? That Brennan won’t?”

There’s concern in the way he looks at her. “You don’t have to ask permission to build a garden on your own land, Swan. It’s your home too now.” 

“Right,” she answers, knowing he means it but not so sure she believes it yet. She thinks that if it were only him, then she would already be beginning to feel she belongs. But it isn’t, and she doesn’t, as badly as she may want to. Wanting for something to do, she takes one of the peaches from her skirt and takes a bite, surprising herself and Killian when she lets out a stunned, “holy shit.” 

Killian’s brows raise in surprise before he bursts out laughing as she flushes deep red at her language. Mouth still full, she forces herself to finish chewing and swallow before she explains. “I’m sorry. It’s just, you weren’t kidding. These are amazing.” 

“Aye, well don’t eat all of them,” he warns. “I was promised pie.” 

“Yeah, well, you might have to go climb some trees if you want it that badly.” She slips one into her pocket. 

“Are you stealing peaches?” 

“It’s for Jewel.”

“Swan, that animal is big and lazy enough. She doesn’t need your help growing so large she can’t fit through her stable door.” He shakes his head. “Wasting perfectly good fruit on a horse, really.”

“I thought this was my home now,” she argues, catching her smirk between her teeth as she uses his words against him. “Doesn’t that mean these are my peaches and I can do what I want with them?” 

He laughs, something in his smile softening the teasing humour they’d fallen into. “Aye. It does.” 

***

She makes one of Granny’s recipes for dinner, roasting meat, potatoes and vegetables the way the old woman had shown her that morning, adding herbs in generous quantities that she’d given Emma from her own stock. Herbs, she thinks, she’ll have to keep some to plant in her garden as well. She smiles a little as she cooks, thinking of the little patch she’ll dig up, the friends she made today, her stomach churning with anticipation tonight rather than nerves as she waits for the men to come in to eat. 

While her husband offers no compliments for the meal she serves, he doesn’t complain. Eating without comment, he mutters about the lack of help he was given today in the field - most of it directed at his son who, along with the farmhands, have been nothing but flattering in their opinions about their dinner. 

“You could hire another farmhand,” Killian tells him, another old argument from the sigh with which he suggests it. 

“With what money?” Brennan snaps.

“The money you bring with you to the tavern every night.” 

“I know some lads in town looking for work,” Robin suggests.

“I’m not paying for more help. I pay you two enough that I shouldn’t have to!” 

“It takes two of them to mind the cattle,” Killian reminds him. “We can’t risk losing any more like we did last year.”

“So I should just do all the work myself?” he argues. “What use are two farmhands who spend all day standing in a field and a cripple son who sits around reading books and calls it work?”

“I could help,” Emma offers quietly, hoping to diffuse some of the tension, hoping to find another way to be useful. 

“With the field?” Killian asks, but Brennan scoffs.

“Look at her. She can barely lift a bag of flour let alone handle a plow.” 

“You said you wanted help,” his son reminds him.

“Aye, help, not a woman who I’ll have to bring back when she faints from exhaustion.”

“Father.” 

“What? It’s not women’s work.”

“I’m not sure what other option there is if you don’t wish to hire someone or let Mrs. Jones help,” Robin points out as politely as possible. 

“I’m not sure I asked for your opinion, Locksley.” 

“No you just want to complain about not having the help you refuse,” Killian mutters and Brennan’s fist comes down hard on the table, jarring her. David sets a gentle hand on her arm, comforting, but she can also feel the suggestion in its weight: don’t get involved. 

“I won’t abide being talked down to in my own house by my son and the help,” he spits, standing brusquely, grabbing his jacket. “I’ll be at the tavern. Spending my coin however I damn well please. You best not be here when I get back,'' he warns them, slamming the door behind him and leaving the room in silence. 

“I didn’t mean to -”

“You didn’t do anything,” Killian says before she can finish apologizing. “It’s his own pigheadedness that-” He stops, takes a deep breath, calms himself. 

“Sorry, Mrs. Jones,” Robin sighs. “We’ve ruined your perfectly wonderful dinner.” 

“No, I’ll just…” She moves to gather their plates, flustered and needing something to do. “Does… does anyone want dessert?” 

The resounding yes makes her smile despite the tension, turning away to hide her flush, busying herself with serving plates of peach cobbler - pie had turned out to be beyond her skillset after all - bringing them to the table. The discomfort that had built over the course of dinner slowly dissipates as they eat, Brennan seeming to have taken the anger out the door with him. 

When Locksley and Nolan have retired for the night, she broaches the earlier subject carefully with Killian. “Do we really need another farmhand?”

“Aye, probably,” he admits, setting dishes down in the washbasin despite her protests that he doesn’t need to help her clear the table. “But the work gets done without one. I don’t know how much longer he can keep it up though with the state he’s in - it used to take three of us.” 

“What state?” she asks and he presses his lips together like he’s said too much. “Is he ill?” she asks, remembering his coughing fit from this morning.

“The doctor hasn't found anything wrong with him. He just says that he needs to cut back and give his body a chance to recover or he’ll run himself into an early grave. ”

“The work?” 

“Aye… and the rum. 

“Oh,” she says, looking towards the door where her husband just left for the tavern.

“I’m sorry,” Killian frowns, pinching his brow. “I keep speaking without thinking tonight.”

“I… is it serious?” she presses, fingers curling into fists, nails digging into her palms as she considers the possibility that her husband - who’s already not a young man and was supposed to provide her with a home and security - may be drinking himself to death. “Should I be worried?” A terrible fear of finding herself a widow so soon after marrying creeps through her, of being left again with nowhere to go like so many times before. 

“Hey,” Killian says, reaching for her hand, opening it and keeping it in his. His thumb runs over her knuckles soothingly. “You don’t need to worry. He’s too stubborn to let death get the better of him. And should anything happen…” His finger brushes against her palm as if unwittingly. “You won’t be left alone,” he promises. “I’ll take care of you.” Her heart catches in her throat at his words, racing at the declaration before he quickly corrects himself, dropping her hand. “I mean, we will. Liam and I. We won’t leave you to fend for yourself.” 

Emma’s smile is awkward as he reaches to rub at the back of his neck, clearing his throat before announcing that he should probably get the animals settled for the night. She watches him leave, the feel of his calloused fingers against her own still lingering like a reminder. 

Stop imagining things that aren’t there. 

‘I’ll take care of you.’

***

As she lays in bed later, staring at the ceiling, her husband’s side empty for the second night in a row, she reflects on how drastically her life continues to change in such a short period of time. A week ago she was Emma Swan, governess to a wealthy family in New York. Yesterday she was Emma Jones, wife of a farmer twice her age. And today, she’s married to a farmer twice her age who’s ill from a vice he won’t give up that may leave her as just Emma again, widowed and alone. Only she won’t be alone - Killian had promised. But the thought of losing her husband whom she’s only just met, whom she’s so determined to win the respect and appreciation of, is troubling to say the least. 

There’s so much she wishes she had known before she made those vows to a stranger she still doesn’t know. So many things she wishes she’d thought to ask, too focused on fleeing her own heartbreak to consider that the life that awaited her may hold even greater challenges. Maybe she should have stayed in New York. Scandal would have walked in her shadow, and she’d probably never have been able to find another employer, but she’d have had her freedom, the option to walk away. Instead she’d chosen to run. 

So when her husband stumbles into their room hours later, reeking of drink and slurring before collapsing, unconscious on the bed for the second night in a row, Emma wars with the mixed feelings of relief and despair that toil within her. This is not the life she’d have chosen for herself, but she did choose it, and now alongside her regret is a desperation to hang onto it less it be ripped from her hands too soon. It’s not the sort of fantasies she’d let herself dream up when she was young, and even for a little while when she thought Neal loved her. But for all the turmoil and uncertainty, there’s goodness - things and places she’s becoming accustomed to, a routine she’s learning to settle into, people she’s growing fond of - and she’s not ready to lose it just yet. 

***

When she makes her way downstairs the next morning, she’s not surprised to find Killian already in the kitchen, the smell of coffee wrapping itself around her and warming the room. In fact, as she’d tiptoed quietly across the hall so as not to wake her husband, she couldn’t fight the anticipation of another morning of quiet conversation, of lighthearted teasing and banter before the sun could shine through the windows and bathe them in reality. 

The few solitary moments alone she’s had with Killian have been a godsend in these overwhelming first days in Storybrooke. And while she promises herself it’s just relief at having a friend, someone she can talk to - confide in even - the way her heart runs rampant in her chest when he looks up and smiles at her like he’d been anticipating her arrival too, leaves her a little less certain. 

When she notices the cup left out on the counter for her next to the kettle, she tries not to read into the considerate gesture. He was late picking you up because he stopped to help Granny, she reminds herself. He’s considerate of everyone. That’s just the kind of man he is.

“Good morning,” he greets, moving from the counter to the table, setting down a fresh loaf of bread and butter and taking a seat. The kitchen still smells like baking and she knows he made it himself. “Breakfast?” he offers. “There’s eggs on the stove as well though you might have to heat them.” 

Emma gives him a mirthful smirk. “Have you left me any of my duties?” 

“I thought I would give you a hand - so to speak,” he grins, waving his prosthetic. “That way your morning is clear.”

“Clear for what?” she asks, taking a seat and helping herself to bread. His is better than hers and she’ll have to ask him for some advice on that. Though, from the way she can see the muscles of his forearms shifting under his rolled up sleeves as he moves, his hand nearly twice the size of her own, she thinks it might have more to do with kneading and brute strength. She busies herself with picking apart her breakfast, forcing her attention away from him. 

Killian leans in conspiratorially. “I wondered if you’d like to come with me to the bookshop today.”

“Yes!” she says too quickly, giddy like a child at the thought of joining him in town again, of not being stuck in the house alone doing chores all day. “Do you think Brennan will mind?” 

“Mind what?” her husband demands gruffly, joining them earlier than she’d expected given his condition last night. He’s slightly more alert than he was yesterday and she thinks perhaps he may still be drunk. Brennan takes a seat at the table, waiting expectantly before demanding, “Am I supposed to serve my own damn breakfast?” with an annoyed frown at her.

Emma hurries to the stove, warming the pan and getting a plate ready. She can see Killian about to say something but she shakes her head. She doesn’t want them fighting again, not this morning when she so desperately wants him to agree to let her go. 

“Mind what?” he repeats, eyeing his son suspiciously now. 

“I was offering to show Emma the shop today. It might be worth it for her to learn how to run the place and handle the books should we ever need the extra help.” 

“What, you planning on going somewhere?” he demands. 

“No. But if you need an extra hand in the field at harvest I can free up Locksley or Noland and watch the cattle.” Emma can predict his comment and clearly Killian can too, adding, “I can sit on a horse one handed.” 

Brennan grunts as she sets his breakfast down in front of him. “Like I said, so long as the cooking gets done and the house is kept I don’t care what you do.” Despite the sting of his indifference, she beams at Killian over her husband’s shoulder. “Don’t know how you’ve got the time though. If you’re short of work there are cows that need milking and eggs that need collecting and those bloody chickens don’t catch themselves. I suppose you spent your days whiling away where you came from but there’s no room for laziness on a farm.” 

She gives Killian another pleading look to stay silent when she sees his temper flaring and to her relief he doesn’t speak, only clenches his jaw and fist, glaring at the table. “Of course not,” she tells Brennan, placatingly. “I won’t go if it gets in the way of my chores.” 

They sit and eat breakfast quietly, the lack of conversation loaded and awkward, until her husband stands, finished with his meal. He walks out without a word as he had the day before, no goodbye or see you later or kind word for his new wife. Emma sets to cleaning up, bringing the dishes to the sink. Killian helps her without comment and she doesn’t argue with him this time, too disappointed to care. She shouldn’t have gotten her hopes up.

When they’ve finished, Killian holds out a towel, hanging from the tip of his hook with an exaggerated bow and it makes her smile as she takes it. “Come on,” he tells her. “We don’t have much time to waste.” 

“What?” she frowns.

“We’ve got cows to milk and eggs to fetch, and honestly I’d be fascinated to see if you could catch a chicken - or at least I’d very much like to watch you try. We’re short on entertainment around here,” he smirks and she flicks the towel at him, making him laugh as he twists out of the way. He pulls out his pocket watch. “We still have about an hour until we need to leave to open the shop.” 

Emma can’t fight the way her grin splits her face. She could hug him. She nearly does, but instead catches her lip between her teeth, nodding excitedly and letting him lead the way outside. For all the uncertainty this new life has brought her, all the anxiety, it’s nice to know she’s got one thing she can count on. Her fingers fiddle with the comb in her pocket, tracing the flowers carefully. He pretends not to notice when she slips it into her hair.

******

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[yundeob]

A NIGHT IN HOLLYWOOD ☆ | ATEEZ SERIES

— featuring ot8!ateez in iconic HOLLYWOOD romance and rom-com movies

— TICKET BOOTH IS CLOSED! 🎟️ : the movies are about to start! all fics will have MATURE CONTENT! MDNI!

sit back, relax, grab your popcorn and tissues, and enjoy the silver screen . . .

THE PARENT TRAP ☆ | KHJ

TROPE: exes to lovers! divorced!au

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, angst, crack, slice of life

AS DIVORCED PARENTS to two twin daughters, you and hongjoong have your fair share of work cut out. Driving to piano lessons, cheering at hockey games, drop offs at each other’s houses, it can all be a little much. But could a relaxing summer retreat as a whole family possibly rekindle past emotions you’ve swept under the rug? . . .

— IN THEATRES

DIRTY DANCING ☆ | PSH

TROPE: bad boy!seonghwa, enemies to lovers!au , 60s!au

TAGS: nsfw, smut, angst, crack

THAT WAS THE SUMMER before JFK got shot, before the beatles came, and when you were working part time at your aunts summer resort. That was also the summer you met resident heart breaker and cocky entertainment crew member, Park Seonghwa. Remind yourself why you’re suddenly dance partners with him again? . . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

PRETTY WOMAN ☆ | JYH

TROPE: dilf!yunho x formerstripper!reader, strangers to lovers!au, contract lovers!au,

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, angst

LIVING IN BEVERLY HILLS comes with its perks. But for two different people such as yourself and multimillionaire business tycoon, Jeong Yunho, both of you can’t seem to find what you’re looking for in the so called ‘Land of Dreams’. So the proposal is simple really… let him spoil you with money, jewelry and clothes while in return, you stay by his side. . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

MR AND MRS KANG ☆ | KYS

TROPE: marriage!au, established relationship, spy!au, assasin!au

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, ANGST, crack

WHO WOULD’VE THOUGHT picture perfect suburban neighbourhood couple, Mr. and Mrs. Kang would be at each others necks trying to kill each other first. You’ve both come this far in your marriage while hiding your secret identities, but it looks like only one person can remain standing. I guess you both did promise “in sickness and in health”. . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

ROMAN HOLIDAY ☆ | CS

TROPE: royalty!au, princess!reader x reporter!san, strangers to lovers!

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, angst

AS CROWN PRINCESS, you’re on a tightly scheduled tour of European capital cities. But after an especially rough day in Rome, you sneak out of the embassy to explore the so called Eternal City, running into no other than celebrity news reporter, Choi San, looking out for his next big royal scandal. . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

10 THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU ☆ | SMG

TROPE: college!au, stoner!mingi, enemies to lovers!au, fakedating(?)au, y2k aesthetic

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, angst, crack, slice of life

YOUR YOUNGER BROTHER Wooyoung is desperate in getting you, his older sister in college, to date so that he can finally date in highschool. The options for potential candidates are scarce, considering men flock away like birds the second you’re near. Good thing campus stoner and weirdo, Song Mingi is the same as well. . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

HOW TO LOSE A GUY IN 10 DAYS ☆ | JWY

TROPE: fashioncolumnist!reader x advertiser!wooyoung, y2k aesthetic, fake dating(?)au, enemies to lovers!au, mutual pining

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, angst, crack, slice of life

LISTEN, IF IT MEANS getting a promotion at your editorial company as a news journalist instead of pop culture and lifestyle columnist, you’d do anything. And that includes pretending to be the most annoying and clingiest girlfriend to some guy for 10 whole days. But just so you know, Wooyoung likes clingy. . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

ROMEO & JULIET ☆ | CJH

TROPE: unrequited love, star crossed lovers!au, mutual pining, secret romance (shakespeare be rolling in his grave rn)

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, ANGST

FOR CENTURIES, a plague of hatred and hostility has been present in the relations between the House of Choi and your own. You know you can’t be together, but yet why do you keep catching that dark haired boy staring at you so longingly? And why do you want him just as bad?. . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

a/n: for updates, follow my blog! this will be a work-in-progress so I ask for your support:(🙏

taglist: @vent-stink @dazzlingstarrs @vcutparis @xpixie @potatos-on-clouds @showingmafandomlove @bibbleypoof @kpop-will-kill-me @avantalem @beabatiny @gabrielle-brugger @nsixns @amaranth1ne @stayminho @myblovedjyh @kkeshia @rebekah-reads @yoonbroom @4kwp @butterflydemons @iwaizumiismybae @soobinsputnik @stayatinykatsy @atitties @justconniez @kitten4sannie @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @cheolsthicthighs @morethingsfandom @geminiml95 @byuntrash101 @quailbagutte @syubseokie @newworldwritings @urmom26john @sleepy-kat-here @pearltinyy @hjshyhyssnmgwyjh @cursedeastern @starryunho @piratekingateez2001 @jiminbility @paumll @drinkingrumandcocacola @roomsofangel @channies-bbg-room @meanaonthemoon @teeztopia @pommelex @kiln9z @sanhwalvr @youresolivlie @edawg77 @a-0206 @summer-gyu @bvidzsoo @yoongzsmile28 @tournesol155

taglist became too long so find the second taglist here💀 no longer taking requests

[w33-b33]

i finally watched 'lisa frankenstein'

boy oh boy am i normal about this movie

SPOILERS AHEAD

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creature (played by cole sprouse) looks so beautifully pathetic the whole time, and seeing him slowly 'come back to life' was wonderful

CS really nailed the sheer devotion and pining, especially near the end (graveyard scene)

the weird girl finally gets a love interest that doesnt change her!!!!!! she stays weird!!!!!!!! the weird goth girl i used to be is cheering

"i mean, you don't need one of those to be a man. it's like the least important part." i have MANY feelings about this quote. first off, the whole quote illustrates that penetration/a penis is not necessary for sex (including "straight" sex). secondly, TBOY CREATURE!!!!!!! hes so trans i love him so much

goth wife gets her undead trans husband a phalloplasty

the tanning bed being used to bring creature back, and being what kills lisa?? INCREDIBLE.

the parts of people that they killed having previously been used to hurt lisa (janet not listening, doug sexually assaulting lisa, michael Being A Dick) being used to comfort and love her once they belonged to the creature? literally magnificent

'beloved wife' written on lisa's headstone? screaming

this is just a slasher from the slasher's pov (but she thinks shes in a romcom)

tl;dr, i love this movie. i love that the weird little goth girls finally got something for them

[teaaddictyt]

Sims 2 Neighbourhood Pine Forest Defaults!

Hey friends, so I made these aaaages ago and never got around to uploading them because I was using things from other creators and wanted to make sure I had permission to share... and now, I do!

Lowedeus made these beautiful Shastakiss CS Pine Tree conversions into default replacements for the single hood pines HERE, with lovely seasonal snowy states.

I simply took their work, played in Blender and applied it to the pine forests, which I hadn't been able to find a good default replacement for. More pictures, technicals and download under the cut.

Technical Stuff:

I have slightly tweaked some of Lowedeus's original files, so I have included them in this download. Please let my files overwrite the originals or your trees might be funny coloured.

The forests pull their textures from the individual trees, so you will need to have all of the defaults in your game for them to work.

All credit for these goes to @shastakiss for the original conversions with snowy states, @lowedeus for those original, beautiful defaults that I have been using for years, and also shoutout to @lordcrumps who assisted me with creating these defaults and troubleshooting when the tree colours weren't right 😅❤️

DOWNLOAD HERE!

Before:

After:

Snowy States:

[coconutcordiale]

“If I could stop loving you, I would.” With any of the pilots

love that's a real long shot

pairing- hangman x pilot!reader (callsign violet)

synopsis- you and jake keep running into each other over the years and jake just can’t seem to let you go

warnings- fwb! happy ending!!! angst! 18+ for slight smuttiness (if you read my normal stuff this is extremely tame comparatively - just want to manage expectations 😉) light enemies to it’s just sex to pining to lovers. naval inaccuracies but it's my pretend world y'all just live in it, sad jake's pov but he's pretty he'll be fine

length- 7.7k

an- companion piece to this 0.6k drabble one time thing but that is not required reading - pretty much all of ott is revisited in this fic

i really, really don’t know how I feel about this one but i've been tinkering and agonizing over it forever and i have to be done so LOL here ya go

credit for the cs violet goes to my soulmate @justfandomwritings thank you for loving angst as much as i do, thank you for being brilliant

title courtesy of it ain't over - the black keys

tagging those that were upset with me for the ending of one time thing - @unstablecaffeinatedmind / @ahopelessromanticwritersworld / @gigisimsonmars / @flashyourgreeneyesatme / @forever-sleepy-sloth / @gingerbreadandpaper / @lovingjakeseresin

also - @mandylove1000 ily

Virginia Beach, 2019

Jake’s glad the packed bar gives him enough cover to stay hidden when he overhears Bradshaw asking his new roommate if she’s interested in him.

He bites back a huff of annoyance, not wanting to draw attention to himself. He talked to her for all of five seconds before mustache boy strutted up to make it very clear his friend was off-limits, was barely even flirting with her. Charming smiles are basically a reflex of his at this point.

“That man has never given a girl an orgasm.”

Jake rolls his eyes but keeps his mouth shut. It’s categorically untrue, but who cares what Bradshaw’s roommate thinks?

Your back is to him too, but he hears you hum in agreement, stifling a laugh. Jake’s hackles suddenly raise, and he briefly wonders why it irritates him so much that you seem to agree with that statement.

Rooster chokes on his beer. “Excuse me?”

She shrugs, fidgeting with her drink. “You were asking if I was into your friend – Hangman, was it? That should be enough of an answer.”

“I don’t really want to think about Seresin’s like in bed.”

“You’re breaking my heart, little bird,” Jake drawls from behind Rooster, figuring he should let you guys know of his presence before you get any further. “And here I thought we had something special.”

You roll your eyes before pushing your stool back. “Well, that’s my cue to leave.”

Jake immediately wonders what the appropriate amount of time is before he can excuse himself too.

+

“If you wanted to know what I’m like behind closed doors, you could’ve just asked, darlin’,” Jake murmurs from behind you, having found the corner of the bar you disappeared to. “I’d be happy to give you a lesson. I’m very hands-on.”

“Hard pass, Hangman.”

He smiles lazily, turning the charm up to full wattage and leaning on the bar next to you. Not close enough to make you uncomfortable, but enough to make you avert your eyes from his bicep and shift a little in your seat.

“I have a pretty good idea already.”

His smirk goes a little sharp around the edges, a predator locking in his prey. “That so? And what idea might that be?”

You raise an eyebrow. The derision you manage to convey in one unimpressed glance goes straight to his cock.

His eyes flash, fingers clenching around his beer, but he makes sure the infamous smirk stays put. “Think you’ve got me figured out?”

You shrug. “Guys that look like you are rarely anything more than a disappointment in bed.”

He smiles at that, leaning towards playful instead of goading, wondering if you’ve realized what you just admitted. “I think you’re pretty too, sweetheart.”

“You’re intelligent enough to know what you look like. It’d be stupid to pretend otherwise.”

He rolls his beer between his palms, gaze far away and calculating.

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?” He asks, feigned innocence taking over as he brings his eyes back to you.

“Stop thinking about how you’re gonna get me to sleep with you.”

The problem for you is, Jake sees the way you look at him. And it’s nothing like the polite boredom he’s witnessed you grace guys with when they truly don’t have a chance with you.

“Tell me one thing, Violet,” he says, your callsign rolling off his tongue like honey. “Why is it that you’re so nice to everyone else, but so mean to me?”

“Maybe I just don’t like you that much,” you answer, but the barbs in your words are undermined by the way your eyes dart to his chest. He wants to pat himself on the back for going home to change out of his flight suit and into a threadbare grey t-shirt before coming out tonight.

Jake purses his lips, nodding like he’s seriously considering your words, leaning in, and lowering his voice. “Or maybe, you like me a little more than you’d care to admit.”

You shoot him a dirty look for invading your space. “You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you?”

Your thighs press together, almost imperceptibly. If he wasn’t completely attuned to you, he probably would’ve missed it.

Bingo.

“Tell me to fuck off and I will,” Jake rumbles, mouth ghosting over your ear now, too close to be played off as a joke. “Or let me prove you wrong.”

When you lift your eyes to meet his, refusing to shy away from him towering over you in your seat, there’s something dark, something glazed taking them over.

“A one-time thing and I’ll never bring it up again,” Jake promises. “I have new orders for Lemoore anyways; I leave in two days.”

“Fuck,” you whisper. “Take me home before I change my mind, Seresin.”

+

You’ve been gripping his hair for what seems like hours, thighs still shaking where they’re bracketed around Jake’s head.

“What was it – I’ve never given a girl an orgasm?” He asks smugly. “I must be some kind of prodigy, then.”

“Don’t ruin my afterglow,” you manage, voice hoarse. You’re still far too coherent for his liking, and Jake ducks his head back down, savoring the broken moan that rips from your throat.

He doesn’t stop until the only word you can form is his name.

North Island, 2020

“Look who showed up,” Jake calls from across the Hard Deck, eyes running down your body. He shifts, adjusting himself as subtly as he can. “If it ain’t Violet.”

As generic as your uniform is, all he can picture now is the body he knows lies beneath it.

“Hangman,” you say, not quite able to hide the smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“Glad to see we have a runner-up for the TOPGUN trophy.”

You look almost, dare he say, fond? “Your ego hasn’t dimmed a bit, has it Hang?”

Jake gives you another obvious once-over, smirking to balance out the warmth he can’t keep out of his voice. “Good to see you, sweetheart.”

+

Jake’s skin has been buzzing all night, high off his win, drunk off being within inches of you outside the Hard Deck after thirteen weeks of having you just out of arm’s reach.

“Congratulations,” you say, and you don’t even seem that sore about it. Your eyes linger on where his shirt has slowly been coming unbuttoned as the night wears on when you add, “Can’t believe you beat me for first place.”

“An inevitability, darlin’.” Jake leans in, pleased to see your mouth part in his proximity. “Don’t tell anyone, but I might’ve worried you were gonna give me a run for my money for a second there.”

You scoff, but don’t move away, if anything you sway closer. His fingers twitch at his sides, fighting to pull you against him, aching to run his hands up your bare legs and under your flimsy sundress, to see if you’re as wet as the heat in your eyes suggests.

You turn to face the ocean, which just pushes your hips in closer to him and makes Jake’s mouth water. “Obviously. You barely won.”

He winks, knowing you’re keeping tabs on him from your periphery even as you pretend to study the crashing waves in front of you. “That’ll be our secret. Care to congratulate me in private?”

“Thought you said that was a one-time thing, Seresin.” There’s a teasing lilt to your voice and in that moment, Jake knows he’s won for the second time today.

“Shut up and meet me at my truck.”

You smirk, turning on your heel without another word.

Jake doesn’t take his time with you this time. Only immense self restraint and the threat of being slapped with a public indecency charge keeps him from bending you over in the parking lot of the Hard Deck.

It doesn’t help that you seem less than willing to wait too, running delicate fingers along the inseam of his jeans, letting your skirt ride higher and higher as you shift in the passenger seat, giggling as he swerves when he catches a glimpse of red lace between your thighs.

By the time you reach his house you’re practically dragging him up the stairs by his belt loops, looking like you’re heading for the bedroom before he pushes you back up against the front door and takes you right there.

The second round you only make it as far as the couch, but he at least manages to get your clothes all the way off.

When you finally end up in his bed you’re both still panting and spent, Jake curling around you even though he’s tacky with sweat.

“I’ll be in Lemoore, now that I’m done with TOPGUN,” you whisper when you’re forming coherent sentences again, so quiet he can hardly hear you over the wind whipping against his bedroom window. “I think it’s short term, but we’ll see.”

Something warm lights up in Jake that he doesn’t want to examine very closely. “Good, everyone there is shit at pool. I’m in need of some actual competition.”

You smile against his skin and he drops a kiss to the top of your head, wondering if you can feel his heart speeding up.

Lemoore, 2021

You’re tracing mindless shapes across Jake’s chest, playing with his chest hair when you rip the rug out from underneath him.

“Got my new orders.”

It’s always amused him how fond you are of his chest hair, so it takes a few seconds for your words to sink in. When he does, his entire body flashes hot, then cold. He hopes you don’t notice the rigidity suddenly running through him. “When do you leave?”

Your face is blank, frustratingly neutral. “Tomorrow.”

Jake takes as deep of a breath as he can manage without being noticeable. Which given your proximity to his chest, is not very. He wants to be mad you didn’t tell him sooner, but the rational part of his brain reminds him he has no right to be.

“Where to?” He asks after a few beats of silence when he’s pretty sure it’ll come out even.

“Fallon.”

The scoff he lets out is genuine, at least. “Gross.”

Your indifference breaks as you giggle against his skin at his derision and he forgets that this is the last time he’ll get to have you like this. For now, at least.

“Are you spending the night?”

Jake doesn’t know why you ask anymore, in the last year he’s said no to sleeping in your bed zero times. He's turned down the opportunity to save you from sleazy guys hitting on you in dive bars even less than that - which is to say he does it without being asked and without even checking if you want his help anymore. Tact really is his middle name.

But like always, you ask and like always, he fights to keep the eagerness out of his voice. He’s fortunate to have decades of practice of keeping his tone level under his belt. “If you want me to.”

“I do,” you whisper, face still tucked into him, but he manages to see your lips purse, looking like you want to say more.

You don’t, though, and Jake hides his smile in your hair rather than commenting.

“Good. Wanna wake you up with my mouth on you,” he murmurs, trailing said mouth against your soft skin. He wills himself to say something else, to tell you he’ll miss you, that he doesn’t want whatever this is to end.

But his tongue stays stuck, arms tightening as his body says what his lips can’t.

North Island, 2022

Jake’s fists are clenched by his side, nails digging into his palms, pinpricks of pain the only thing keeping him from seeing red.

“I’m sorry?” You look confused. Scarlet edges into the corners of his vision. “That I didn’t tell you they sent me back to TOPGUN too? I haven’t seen you in almost a year, Jake.”

“Don’t act like we haven’t talked since then.” Jake doesn’t want to know what his face looks like, his normally careful façade shattered in favor of quiet outrage. “I think you know you were supposed to mention it.”

You had talked. Mostly sporadic, surface-level texts. Memes of an exasperated Chris Pine on his press tour he knew you would get a kick out of. In return, he received a graph detailing Leonardo DiCaprio’s age versus his girlfriends’, noting a clear age limit. You kept your jokes about him being a future Leo to a minimum, at least.

And on one memorable occasion, you called him drunk, and he got to talk to you for an hour after you snarkily admitted to missing him.

Neither of you mentioned it the next day.

You deflate. “Maybe. I don’t know what you want from me. We were always playing by your rules here.”

Jake’s mouth forms a tight line. “Right. My rules.”

Some bullshit he said, before Lemoore, way back in Oceana. Before you’d slept together, before TOPGUN, before he’d gotten to know the real you, before you’d gotten under his skin.

“Let’s just get through this mission, it’ll be easier if we’re not fighting. You do enough goading with Rooster.”

Jake’s so caught up in his own head that he doesn’t even bother to protest about Rooster. He’s grinding his teeth, jaw clenched so the rest of his body can remain still. He knows, on some level, that he’s probably overreacting. But he mentioned this return to TOPGUN to you last week and he can’t help but feel like he’s playing catch up when suddenly you’re here too.

If there’s one thing Hangman doesn’t allow, it’s being left behind.  

He doesn’t know why this is on the laundry list of things you refuse to talk about. That’s probably the most frustrating of it all. You’ve always been the puzzle he can’t quite figure out.

“We’ll stay out of each other’s way,” he finds himself saying, mask slipping back into place. “Focus on the mission.”

“Yeah, focus on the mission,” you echo, and Jake wonders if it feels hollow to you too.

+

Your head is on Jake’s chest again, bare legs tangled with his and the tension is finally bleeding from his body.

“Don’t like fighting with you,” you mumble, muffled by his arms wrapped around you.

“Ended well,” he jokes, magnanimously gesturing to your naked state just barely covered by the thin sheet. “Gave us a vigor we haven’t had in a while.”

He feels your cheeks grow warm where they’re pressed against his skin, clearly thinking back to the adrenaline laden, ‘thank God we’re alive sex’ that lead to the casualty of at least one lamp.

Jake silently thanks Maverick for being such a hot mess that the Navy is unlikely to worry about a few broken items in his bunk.  

He smirks at your embarrassment, as if falling into bed together is anything new. It’s the post-orgasm glow, he knows it is, but Jake feels the truth bubbling to the surface. Wouldn’t it be so easy not to let this end?

“Yeah.” You sigh, not meeting his eyes. “I don’t know. All the arguing, then making up so we can fool around. It’s time for us to grow up, don’t you think?”

Jake lets the words die on the tip of his tongue.

“Probably,” he manages.

He kisses you deeply, saying what his lips won’t. He doesn’t mean for it to turn heated; he just can’t bear to let you go yet.

Making love is the only way to describe what comes next. You’ve been at this for a long time, going on three years, and you’ve fucked; hard and fast and fiery. You’ve slept together; gentle and languid and easy.

It’s never felt quite like this.

When he slides into you for what he knows will be the last time, he tries to memorize every line of your face, every gasp from your parted lips, every flutter of your lashes. It’ll be months before he forgets the soft, unguarded shine of your eyes, the way your fingers feel tangled on the nape of his neck.

It feels like goodbye.

North Island, 2023

Your name is out of Jake’s mouth before he can stop himself, longing bowling over his reasoning abilities. Every urge to text you that he stomped out over the last year shows itself as a waste since any sense of self-preservation goes out the window once he lays his eyes on you.

It doesn’t hurt any less to see you without warning in Coronado, but at least this time he holds onto the reigns tightly enough to keep his tone level.

Your voice is happy when you turn towards him, and Jake tries not to outwardly react. “Hangman, hi.”

He wants to rush over, grab onto you, and never let go. Wants to tuck his nose into your hair, smell warm citrus, and have that niggle in the back of his brain soothed.

He waves as you stride towards him instead, boots cemented to the floor. “Back in California already?”

You chuckle, the adorable, lyrical sound raising goosebumps on his arms beneath his flight suit. “Thank God. Fallon’s a shithole.”

Jake’s mouth is open to respond when he clocks someone with curly dark hair behind you, moving forward decisively to your side.

“Babe,” the guy says, and Jake’s spine stiffens, noting the inch or two he has over this mystery guy out of reflex. “Hope you weren’t waiting long.”

There’s a split second where your expression shutters, where Jake thinks the fight or flight thrumming through him might not be necessary.

But as quickly as it shows up it’s gone, and he finds himself hoping the boom of jets taking off covers up the sound of his chest cracking open.

“Brandon, this is Hangman. We were in the same class at TOPGUN.”

Jake’s mouth is dry, tongue glued to the roof of his mouth as he internally winces at the obvious reduction of your history.  

“Riot,” Brandon says, sticking his hand out to shake. Jake tries not to crush the bones in his fingers.

Riot and Violet, he thinks sarcastically. How cute.

“You’re with the Eightballers.” Jake glances at his patches, making sure to keep his tone neutral.

Helicopters. He wants to roll his eyes.

Riot nods and you grin, letting it light up your whole face. “His friends can’t believe he ended up with a jet bro. Can you imagine the shit I have to endure, hanging out with these helo knuckleheads?”

You're unmistakably fond, and Jake feels bile rising in his throat. Mercifully, he’s saved from having to answer by a group of pilots trying to get your attention.

“It was good to see you." Your smile softens as you turn to leave, the sun shining around your head, painting you in gold.

He nods. “I’m sure I’ll see you guys around.”

Jake doesn’t sprint to get away from you, he’s too calculated for that, but it’s a near thing. If his strides are just a touch longer than normal, no one has to know.

North Island, 2024

“It’s nice, what you guys have,” Jake's mouth is saying outside the Hard Deck, celebrating your fucking engagement, of all things. The words taste like acid on his tongue.

“Don’t tell me, eternal bachelor, Jake Seresin is thinking about settling down. The women of California will be knocking down your front door.”

Jake wants to laugh, that that’s still what you think of him. But knowing it’ll just come out thick and wet, he keeps the noises to himself. He hasn’t done much in the last year to combat that reputation – Coronado’s smaller than he’d like and you’ve never seen him with the same girl twice because he hasn’t been with the same girl twice.

What’s that they say about old habits?

He takes another sip of his beer instead. “No.”

The teasing is still lighting up your features, barely visible in the moonlight. “Just an introspective mood then, huh? Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Thinking about what it might’ve been like.”

“What?”

“To be with you.”

You blink.

“You never gave me a shot,” Jake continues. He can’t help himself. “You were always convinced I wouldn’t pull the trigger.”

“I don’t think you would have.”

“I think you’re wrong. Doesn’t matter now though, does it?”

Jake tries to smile, but it comes out more like a grimace. He can’t help but reach out for you, squeezing your wrist one last time, studiously avoiding looking at the diamond on your other hand. “I’m happy for you, sweetheart.”

It’s only partially a lie.

+

Jake wishes he could say the noise wakes him up, but he’s already busy staring at his ceiling fan and its endless circles when he hears the pounding on his front door.

He knows it’ll be you before he finishes rubbing the tiredness out of his eyes.

“What the hell is your problem?”

Jake scrubs his hand over his chin, nose scrunching. “Sweetheart, it’s the middle of the night.”

You glower at him in response.

Whether it’s for the term of endearment or the fact that he couldn’t keep his mouth shut in the face of your blinding diamond ring or some combination of the two, he doesn’t know. What he does know is that you have every right to be mad at him, after spilling secrets he’s held close to his chest for years.

He sighs, wishing he could say the timing was an accident, but he can’t lie to himself quite that well. “Come inside at least, so the neighbors don’t call the cops.”

Apparently, your earlier question was rhetorical because the moment the door is closed, you’re rambling, talking at him, really. After a couple of minutes of watching you spew a bunch of nonsense to skirt around the issue at hand, with no end in sight, Jake sighs again and moves into the kitchen to pour himself a drink.

The wooden chair creaks as he settles his weight into it, sliding a glass over to you wordlessly. He’s not even sure you’ll notice it’s there, but you pick it up and gesticulate wildly with it before taking a sip. He’s somewhat impressed you don’t spill a drop.

You haven’t sat down, can’t seem to stop moving and Jake wishes he had a toothpick.

“We were so chaotic, Jake. We wouldn’t have worked.”

You finally look at him, taking a deep breath. Jake wonders about your lung capacity since you clearly haven’t breathed since barging into his off-base housing.

“I’m not arguing.”

You’re pacing back and forth, frustration bleeding from every pore. “What do you want me to say?”

Despite everything, Jake manages a smirk at that, albeit dimmer than normal. “I haven’t said anything for, like, ten entire minutes.”

The scowl he gets for that little comment is unbearably cute. He tries to ignore the tightening in his chest, stay in reality. “Is that what you stormed over to my house in the middle of the night to tell me, that we shouldn’t be together?”

You visibly deflate. “I don’t know why I’m here.”

There’s an inkling in the back of Jake’s brain that says he does, but he tells it to shut up.

You do not have a history of sticking around when it comes to verbal confrontation, and he’s painstakingly aware that one misstep could have you sprinting out the door.

It was something that worked well with you two, at the beginning, when everything was easy and fun. Blowing off steam with the competition, neither of you had ever been any good at talking so you figured why bother?

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Why now? Don’t you think your timing sucks a little bit?”

“I don’t know.”

It’s a lie.

He knows. As much as he’d like to tell himself he was overwhelmed, seeing the ring on your finger, watching everyone congratulate you and your fiancé, deep down he knows that’s not true.

Like everything he does, it was deliberate. There was something telling him this was his last chance. Is his last chance.

“If I could stop loving you, I would.”

You drop down into the chair across from him, stalling as your brain clearly restarts.

“Loving, present tense?”

There’s a weariness to your voice that he doesn’t like one bit, which makes his heart drop into his stomach as he’s reminded of the risk in telling you this. A calculated risk, but still a risk. One where he’s already bet big, his chips all in, but the river is flipping over, and his gut tells him before he sees it that it’s not the card he needs.

He takes a sip of his Balcones, hoping the burn scorches the rampage building beneath his ribs.

You purse your lips, waiting for a response.

Jake shrugs, but he’s aware it doesn’t have the effect he’s going for when the tension refuses to bleed from his shoulders.

You look like you’ve forgotten how to breathe and will pass out any minute now. Jake debates the merits of passing out to get out of the hell that is this confession.

He avoids your eyes instead. Coward, his brain screams at him, willing him to look up at meet your gaze. “I’ve tried to stop.”

Hangman makes strategic withdrawals. When someone can’t be needled into responding, he pulls back. This is different. He’s never backed down from confrontation out of fear and he hates it, like he’s just discovered his skin doesn’t quite fit him.

Your mouth opens and closes several times without a noise leaving and it frustrates him to no end. When he grits his teeth, he doesn’t know if it’s to hold back the pleading and desperation or frustration at having flayed himself open only to receive silence. “Say something.”

“I’m shipping out,” you tell him as if that’s any sort of answer. “On Monday.”

Jake blinks. That's only three days from now, he wants to say. Opens his mouth and closes it, once, twice. Doesn’t bother with a third time. It won't change anything.

Maybe that is his answer. Let this go, this hope he’s carried onto multiple aircraft carriers, through several states, across endless miles of sky.

This is you telling him to let you go. To start over.

Hawaii, 2025

Some things have changed in 2025. Jake’s ability to control his mouth at the sight of you is not one of them.

“Where’s our helo hero?”

He feels pretty good about that one. As hard as it is to see you, as much as his entire being aches to touch you, he’s going to be normal with you and your fiancé. He owes you that at least.

Unfortunately, for him or for you – he doesn’t know who suffers more at this point – normal includes the patented Hangman barbs he just can’t seem to let go of.

“Seresin,” Phoenix whispers harshly.

Jake immediately thinks he’s missing a puzzle piece, that he’s flying blind, making a drop decision without a laser. Unwilling to admit anything he does what he always does; he rolls his shoulders back and smirks.

You shift from on your feet, clearly uncomfortable. “He’s not coming.”

He can’t resist the jab, but it feels sticky in his mouth. “Aw, come on, the rest of us managed to sync up our leaves, but helos are just too important?”

Phoenix pinches the bridge of her nose, scowling at him, murder in her eyes. “Hangman, shut up.”

He tries to pretend that look doesn’t send chills down his spine, but he’s man enough to admit that Natasha Trace could put the fear of God into just about anyone.

You cough, shifting uncomfortably on your feet. “Uh, we broke up.”

Jake looks around, sure the world is suddenly tilting the wrong way on its axis. Fortunately, the rest of the group seems to be trickling in, so you and Phoenix don’t detect his crisis.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs quietly while Phoenix is distracted by Bradshaw strutting towards them. “I didn’t know.”

You give him a tight-lipped smile, a mask so familiar he feels like he’s staring into a mirror. Jake’s seen this cover before, it’s fight or flight. In the next few seconds, you’ll either be pretending he doesn’t exist, or you’ll be cutting through his armor with a few well-placed, very specific remarks.

You angle away from him, surveying Fanboy and Payback to your left. “All good, Hang.”

Guess it's flight.

+

Several bars and a few too many shots later, Coyote elbows Jake in the side. “What’s up with you tonight?”

“Just bored of beating y’all in darts,” Jake insists with a cocky grin he knows doesn’t reach his eyes. He just hopes no one notices.

Luckily for him, the only person that always sees straight through his bullshit smirks is you. And you’re at the bar, waiting patiently for the bartender, politely making conversation with some cheesy tourist.

A guy in an atrocious Hawaiian shirt (that he probably bought yesterday at the nearest ABC store, his internal monologue snidely adds) is clearly hitting on you and Jake forgot what it’s like to watch this. Because it’s been years since you were single, he forgot how it feels with sharks circling in the water around you, seeing you make small talk with strangers who have no reason to stop because you’re so goddamn kind and there’s no boyfriend for you to mention that will abruptly end their interest.

There’s a chance you actually want to talk to this chump, but Jake promptly tells that line of thought to kick rocks.

He kind of wants to throw himself into the ocean and drift away from this stupid vacation he should’ve never agreed to. Mrs. Lee will be fine watering his plants if he never comes back, right?

Because once upon a time, in a shitty bar in Lemoore, he’d save you so you wouldn’t have to turn anyone down and he’d tease you, that no one that’s seen you in the air, so quick and decisive and cunning, would ever believe you’d need a knight in shining armor to keep the creeps at bay. You’d tell him to shut up before dragging him out of there by his belt.

He shakes his head, trying to rid himself of the memory. As it stands, the ocean is probably his best bet.

“Pool?” You ask when you return with a fresh mojito, sans cheesy Hawaiian shirt, and everyone rolls their eyes.

“Miss the Hard Deck already, Vi?” Fanboy teases.

Even though the ice between you hasn’t completely thawed yet, Jake ignores him in favor of getting up, making his way toward the table in silent agreement. He figures it’ll give him something to do besides staring at the side of your head.

If his mid-game trash talk is a little pointed, a little too on the nose; well, that’ll stay between the two of you.

+

Jake tenses as he hears the back door of the bar swing open behind him, footsteps heavy and likely belonging to a number of people he doesn’t want to explain his sour mood to right now.

“Surprised you and Vi aren’t still going at it at the pool table, thought it was about to be a rematch of TOPGUN in there,” Rooster says.

“Couldn’t beat me then, can’t beat me now." He chuckles out of reflex more than anything, but it feels hollow and forced. "Sometimes I just like to rile her up, get her out of that shell she always wears on the ground.”

Rooster hums in agreement. “Better than the last time I saw you two together. You barely looked at each other then.”

During the Maverick mission, Jake hears lingering in the silence in the humid Hawaii air.

“Sure,” the blond says, willing to agree to anything that stops this train in its tracks.  

“There a story there?” Rooster asks slowly, careful as ever.

“No,” he answers, but it’s rote, automatic. Even Bradshaw isn’t dense enough to miss the friction between you two, Jake knows that.

Rooster raises an eyebrow and Jake pointedly ignores him in favor of pulling a toothpick out of his pocket.

“How’s your girl, Bradshaw? Are you guys ever going to stop living in sin and tie the knot?”

He doesn’t comment on the abrupt change of subject, shrugging. “We’re happy. She’s pretty focused on her career right now. But when she’s ready.”

“I guess when you start fucking your roommate it’s nothing but sin from there on out, anyways, huh?”

The other man grins. “Jealous?’

Jake can’t help the way the corners of his mouth twitch upwards, an admission in its own right. Just not for what Rooster's implying. “Maybe.”

“Planning on coming after my girlfriend? Gotta tell you, Hangman, back in Virginia she was never very impressed by you.”

“She’s not my type. Any girl that’s into that atrocious caterpillar above your lip clearly has impaired vision.”

The other man brushes aside the dig easily. “That’s right. You only had eyes for Vi back then.”

Jake fights a full-body cringe, blaming the fact that he just walked straight into Rooster’s trap on the shots he took with Javy earlier. “What do you know? You hated me in Oceana.”

“Who says I don’t hate you now?”

“Touché.”

Rooster sighs, long-suffering like he can’t believe he’s the one that got saddled with the job of making sure Jake isn’t gonna lose it and ruin their vacation. “Seresin, you’re not the only one who notices things.”

Jake doesn’t need to dignify that with an answer. He’ll turn in his wings the day Rooster is more observant than him.

“Seems like forever ago, now, but I always thought she had a thing for you too.”

“I don’t know where you got that from, she was always arguing with me.”

Rooster waves it off. “Pulling your pigtails. Sound familiar?” He shoots him a knowing look that Jake pretends he doesn’t see, which unfortunately just gives mustache boy the idea he should continue.

“Yeah, sure,” Jake agrees, not without an air of sarcasm. Rooster may be right but it’s not like he’s going to genuinely admit that.

“D’you ever play Sudoku? My mom always loved it.”

Jake tries not to get whiplash, schooling his face into something neutral. He doesn’t know the ins and outs of Bradshaw’s childhood, but enough to know the other man’s putting a lot of faith in him by bringing his mom up at all.

“Did she?” he echoes, for lack of anything better to say.

Rooster nods, eyes far away, unfocused. “The thing about Sudoku is, you have to think about where you’re placing the numbers, so they don’t interfere with numbers in other boxes and lines.”

Jake barely bites back the word obviously, accompanied by a roll of his eyes.

“When we started dating, things weren’t always easy. We went from zero to sixty at the beginning, already living together.”

“But your mom loved sudoku,” Jake says, albeit dryly. “So, you knew to look at the puzzle as a whole.”

Rooster knocks their shoulders together in agreement, now you’re getting it.

“We had to slow down, take a look at what we were doing, where we were going, talk so that we didn’t fuck it up before it could even start.”

The blonde sighs. Leave it to Rooster to use some convoluted metaphor for Jake to parse out when his brain already feels like it’s been muddled alongside the mint in your mojitos.

“M’not the guy you should go to for relationship advice, normally.”

Jake snorts. “No shit.”

Rooster shoots him a bit of side-eye for that but nonetheless barrels on. “But I’ve known you and Vi a long time. For the better part of a decade.”

And isn’t that a thought, that Bradshaw of all people would be the one to know you and Jake better than anyone else?

“Is this your long-winded way of saying Vi and I need to slow down?”

He shrugs. “Maybe. Maybe not. Just gotta figure out the key. Whatever that looks like for you guys.”

Jake turns it over in his head a few times, pushing down his every instinct to blow this off, to make a joke that breaks the intensity that’s thicker than the Hawaii humidity.

“Patience,” he mutters, because of course it would be that for Bradshaw. “Trusting you’ll get there when you get there, not letting the pressure get to you guys.”

“Hm?”

“That’s your key.”

“Yeah,” Rooster nods, before taking a pull of his drink. “But maybe our puzzles are different.”

Jake scrunches his nose, so unused to metaphors and convoluted thinking. His head is still a jumbled mess, unpacking everything he’s learned in the last twelve hours.

“Sometimes you have to drop down and take the shot. Don’t pretend like that’s not in your wheelhouse, Seresin. You’ve always held back with her. Too scared she’s the only one that can keep up with you, maybe. That she's the only one you won’t shake off your tail.”

Rooster is frighteningly insightful tonight. Jake resolves to switch to whatever he’s drinking the moment he goes back inside.

“What would you have me do?” He asks, maybe a little more abrupt than Rooster deserves.

“Basic, normal, human communication would be a start.”

Jake flips him off.

“Not letting her go again, would be the next.”

+

It only takes Jake one Dark ‘n’ Stormy (of course, Rooster's drinking something that Jake feels like an idiot ordering) to build up the courage to follow you outside.

“You called it off.”

It’s not what he planned to say when he saw you sneaking out the back door of the bar. He was going to let you bring it up, maybe goad you into telling him what happened.

But he’s starting to realize his puzzle is less of a Sudoku and more of a jigsaw. He doesn’t know all the steps to complete the goal and won’t know until he’s in the middle of it. Each step comes up when it needs to, and he’ll have to figure it out then.

At least, he thinks that’s the point Bradshaw was trying to make. You two have to talk about something real, at some point, but patience hasn’t gotten him anywhere with you in the last six years.

You nod, staring into the distance, eyes focused on the water ahead.

“When?”

“Right before I deployed.”

Jake balks. He’s not sure what he expected your answer to be, but it wasn’t that. “And you didn’t think that was something you should tell me?”

You look down at your hands. Jake suddenly feels like an idiot, for not thinking anything of your bare ring finger. He should’ve known. He just assumed you’d become one of the many pilots that’s allergic to wedding rings.

“I wasn’t—I didn’t know what to say.”

There’s something working its way into the edges of his earshot, a timer dinging, the buzz of the right answer chiming. He laughs but there’s no humor in it. It’s only because otherwise, he’ll scream, as the puzzle pieces finally fit together.

“That was almost a year ago,” he mutters because he’s a glutton for punishment.

You continue staring at the water, still refusing to meet his gaze.

And he remembers, you’ve never been good at saying the hard things. As fierce as you are in the air, you temper your words on the ground, too wary to cut someone to the bone.

Shrinking violet, he thinks, wondering who was even well-read enough in your first squadron to know that reference.

He takes your silence for the answer that it is, nodding curtly and squeezing your wrist before turning to go back inside, a mirror of the last time his chest felt like candy glass, just waiting for the director to start the next take so it could have its turn to be shattered.

You finally turn to him, eyes glassy with tears. “Jake, I…”

He can’t wait for you to finish, doesn’t want to hear an excuse. Patience has never been his strong suit.

Jake shakes his head, biting his cheek to keep the tears at bay. You’ve never seen him cry and he’ll die before he lets that change on the back patio of this kitschy tiki bar. “Message received, Vi.”

Fucking Rooster. This is why he put this off for so long. It’s excruciating.

“No, Jake—that’s not what I—”

“Loud and clear, Violet.”

“I didn’t know if you’d feel the same way once I was single,” you say suddenly, and it stops him in his tracks. “You seem to forget you never said anything until I was supposed to marry someone else.”

“Then why?”

“Why what?”

Jake wants to pull his hair out. “Why did you call off the fucking wedding? Because it sure as shit wasn’t for me or you would’ve mentioned it sometime in the last ten months.”

“I was with him for two years, Jake. That doesn’t just go away. I didn’t want to tell you before I knew where my own head was at.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Silence.

He turns to leave again, knowing the panic is showing itself in his shaky hands and uneven voice. Desperately, he wishes he had a toothpick or a beer label, something to tear at so his expression could remain carefully blank, tone collected.

When you finally speak again, your voice is thick and heavy with emotion, muffled by unshed tears. “Because.”

Jake raises an eyebrow, not bothering to figure out what expression is playing itself out on his face.

You clear your throat. You play with the hem of your dress. You look anywhere except his eyes.

Fight or flight, he says silently. What’s it gonna be, Vi?

He hopes to God it’s fight.

“Because you don’t marry someone when you’re in love with someone else.”

It takes a few seconds for the meaning of your words to register. He feels like he’s underwater, slow and sluggish, when he finally asks, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Takes more than love to make a relationship work, Jake.”

It’s funny, how you choose the words Jake has repeated to himself in his weaker moments. When he wondered if loving you was enough, if it could overcome that you two are so much more similar than anyone would guess. You might have a reputation for mincing your words, but he’s the only one that takes that for what it is – a mask. He’s spent enough time underneath one to recognize it when he sees it. It’s your way of keeping people at bay, staying in control, not letting anyone climb those walls you’ve spent so long carefully building.

Someone would have to take their hands off the controls, even for a second. Neither of you knows what it’s like to rely on someone else. To not take the lead. To let someone else have your back.

“You have to be able to give me a chance sometime,” he counters, as gently as he can manage. “Let go of the reigns enough to let me try. Trust me to take the shot.”

“I’ve never been very good at that, especially with you,” you say, nodding and Jake’s chest is getting lighter by the second, that you've thought about this. “But I also knew it was going to take me time, to work through ending things with him. I couldn’t ask you to wait.”

“I did anyways.”

You raise your eyes to him at that. “You did?”

“I told you if I could stop loving you, I would have already.”

You exhale shakily, fingers twitching like you want to touch him, but just falling short in the air between you. “I didn’t – By now I thought you would’ve – fuck, Jake. I didn’t think you meant that. Thought you just needed time to get over me.”

He wants to laugh, feels it twitching at the corners of his mouth. “In less than a year? Have you met you?”

You grin at that, rich and bright and open like he hasn’t seen in far too long, and there’s something loosening in your defensive posture. “A lot of people would say ten months is a long time.”

Jake feels fuzzy, from his chest to his fingers as he reaches to pull you into him. You fold back against him, and he ducks his face into your hair, nudging around to get his lips on your jaw, letting his words get muffled by your skin. “Ten months is a blip on the radar.”

He feels you melt into him and finds the courage to lay the rest of it on the line.

“Doesn’t matter anyways because it hasn’t been ten months. It’s been six years. I was just waiting for you to catch up.”

“Sorry, I’m so slow. Hard to keep up with the infamous Hangman. I hear he flies like his ass depends on it.” The teasing is back in your tone, and it spreads warmth all over him.

You reach up to where his forearm rests on your collarbones, where he can’t bear to loosen his hold on you, his fingers twisting in the strap of your tank top.

The entire line of your back is touching him, his nose tucked into the crook of your neck smelling citrus and vanilla and home, but it’s still not enough, as far as Jake is concerned. Too many years spent apart, too many moments with you just out of reach have him itching for more.

“It’s okay,” he breathes against your neck. “As long as we get here in the end.”

“I trust you,” you whisper. “You know that right?”

He nods, fighting a shiver as your hand drifts across from his elbow to his hand. You run your thumb across his pulse point, fingers encircling his wrist. You squeeze, and he feels your promise.

This time he gets to start over with you.

"because you don't marry someone when you're in love with someone else" was stolen from michael westen in burn notice, episode 2.15 sins of omission (fantastic show!) although i changed the wording a little bit

thanks for reading!

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for...

~*~

1. Hi Mods, I hope you're doing well. Do you have any more Non-Yunmeng Wei Wuxian fics. I've read all the ones in the compilation you have.

Thank you so much! @iseverelydislikeeveryone

Crimson Promise by IceQueen95 (T, 148k, wangxian, JC/WQ, JYL/JZX, wen WWX, fem WWX, angst w/ happy ending, sunshot campaign, canonical character death)

🧡 Resplendence by FrozenMarVel ( E, 166k, WIP, WangXian, CS Lives, Rouge cultivator WWX, Crossdressing, Canon Divergence, Fix-It of sorts, Fluff, Explicit smut)

Heart of the Beast by WaitForTheSnitch (E, 132k, WIP, WangXian, WWX Isn’t Adopted by the Jiāngs, Adopted WWX, WWX is a Niè, Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Oblivious WWX, Protective NMJ, Scheming NHS, Protective NHS, Soft NMJ, NMJ is So Done, NHS Is A Little Shit, Pining, LWJ Has Feelings)

The Phoenix embraced the Sun by Lament_4Piligrim (M, 21k, WWX/WRH, Female WWX, Canon Divergence, No Sunshot Campaign, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Time Travel Fix-It, Donghua WRH, Good Person WRH, Past wangxian, Older WWX, Six Great Clans, Wei Clan exists, Wei Clan practises demonic cultivation and world being ok with that, Wei Ying becomes Madam Wen, She loves and is loved, Sentient Burial Mounds, Wei Ying adopts Wen Ruohan's sons and teachs them love, Protective Wei Sect, Protective Wēn Sect, WRH has some mental issues, CSSR & WCZ Live, ,Family Feels, Slow Burn, Sect Leader Wen bashing, WWX's got a little brother, Dark Past, Self-Sacrificing WWX, WIP)

When Flowers Spring from Killing Things by windsweptice (B0redaf) (Not rated, 100k, wangxian, Wen WWX, Demonic Cultivation, WWX Has No Golden Core, he's got a resentful one instead, Yīn Iron, WRH pov, LWJ pov, WWX pov, WWX Isn't Adopted by the Jiāngs, Sentient Burial Mounds, XY Is A Little Shit, WQ pov, Protective WWX, Protective WQ, Cinnamon Roll WN, Protective WN, LXC pov, BAMF WWX, Burning of the Cloud Recesses, Fall of Lotus Pier, Cultivation Discussion Conferences, BAMF LWJ, BAMF WN, BAMF WQ, Good Person WX, WWX Has a New Golden Core, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans, Weddings)

With you is all I need to know by mocheng (M, 47k, wangxian, Bottom LWJ/Top WWX, Dom WWX/Sub LWJ, Older WWX, Rogue Cultivator WWX, POV Multiple, OCs, Curses, Light Dom/sub, Embedded Images, Case Fic)

teeth pushing together, hands clasped by SpeedingCheetah (T, 24k, LSZ & WWX, wangxian, LWJ & WWX, Canon Divergence, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, POV WWX, YLLZ WWX, WWX Adopts LSZ, WWX is BSSR's Disciple, Rogue Cultivator WWX, highly implied lwj/wwx during the war, Post-Sunshot Campaign, Pining WWX, triggers are in the notes)

~*~

2. Hey there, lovely people! There are plenty of fics where WWX time travels into the past, but I'm wondering if there are any where he travels forward in the timeline (not just as some sort of 'glimpse of &/or conversation with his future self' deal, but actually ending up in the future). Like maybe something where his 13/16 years of not being around is because he literally skipped over those years? @thispatternismine

Confusion by Vrishchika (Not rated, 5k, wangxian, time travel)

Would You Come Home? by s6115 (Not rated, 46k, WangXian, Junior Quartet Centric, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Junior Quartet Dynamics) this story doesn't feature a lot of actual wwx (tho he very much plays a part) but technically it fits the prompt and it's a great fic

Through The Abyss by bluesloth (T, 53k, WIP, WWX & JL & JC, Time Travel, Canon Era, Friendship, Drama, Humor, Explicit Language, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death)

忘不了你的爱 (can't forget your love) by PorcupineGirl (G, 25k, WangXian, Time Travel, Modern with Magic, Modern Cultivators AU, Canon Divergence, Time Traveler WWX, discussion of canonical character deaths, a whole lot of handwaving, conveniently localized fires, Discussion of Canonical Suicide Attempt, mostly happy but slightly bittersweet ending)

~*~

3. Hiiiii! I’m in the mood for stalker WWX and/or LWJ aaand age difference/power dynamics btw wx :)

Obelus by Celestios (Not rated, 167k, wangxian, rape/non-con, non-con elements, NO rape, Non-Consensual Spanking, Non-Consensual Punishments, Spanking, Punishments, Dubious Morality, Dubious Consent, physical discipline, Physical Abuse, Toxic Relationships, Abusive Relationship, Kidnapping, Stockholm Syndrome, mention of violence, mention of drugs, Mention of alcohol, Possessive Behavior, Obsessive Behavior, Unhealthy Relationships, dark LWJ, Baker WWX, Bodyguard WN, Mentions of weapons, Gun mentions, Slow Burn, Long, Doctor WQ, Self Medicating, WWX has ADHD, Trauma Bonding, Psychological Manipulation, Gaslighting, Organized Crime, underground crime, Underground business, illegal business)

~*~

4. Hi! a) any canonverse fics where wwx pretends to be a woman?

b) might be overlap with above but fics where identity of yll is a secret? wwx can be though dead or doing a double life, i just wanna see ppl being afraid of this new super powerful player on the board @chellsky

4A)

By Any Other Name by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 31k, Wangxian, Canon Divergence, Crossdressing, Misunderstandings, Identity Porn, Identity reveal)

Fruit-Bearing Pool by rei_moon (T, 46k, wangxian, Mpreg, Crack Treated Seriously, Magical Pregnancy, Magical Pool, Out of Character, Inspired by Journey to the West’s Motherhood River, Historical Inaccuracy, WWX became a business mogul to feed his growing family, Minor OCs, Slow Build, Attempt at Humor, Crossdressing, For disguise purposes, Fix-It of Sorts, WWX and JZX being human disasters together, Misunderstandings, WIP)

crushed ceramic by doyeorem (pomellogranate) (T, 10k, JC & JL & WWX, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Feels, Yúnmèng Siblings Feels, Yúnmèng Jiāng Sect, Family Feels, Genderqueer WWX, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, i think, Misunderstandings, re: lxc, Disguise, Crossdressing, Whump, but it’s more mentioned/implied then detailed, Sibling Bonding, uncle bonding)

My Leaves Reach Ever for the Sun by nonplussed (T, 26k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fix-It, Crossdressing, Idiots in Love, Sharing a Bed, Happy Ending, Mutual Pining)

deeper than the ink by loosingletters (M, 44k, JC & WWX, LSZ & WWX, WQ & WWX & WN, JYL/JZX, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Fix-It of Sorts, Hurt/Comfort, Family, WQ Lives, Not Everyone Dies au, Sibling Bonding, Good Sibling JC, Good Sibling WWX, Yúnmèng Jiāng Sect, Cultivation Sect Politics, Communication, Secrets, Lies, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Trans WWX, Crossdressing, Child LSZ, Pre-Relationship, WIP) first in the series of in the name of love

今非昔比 Jīn fēi xī bǐ by XieJianRou (Not rated, 119k, wangxian, time travel fix-it, fem WWX)

4B)

The Scarlet Lotus by rainbowninja167 (M, 137k, WangXian, Marriage of Convenience, Secret Identity, Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Canon-Typical Violence, canon-typical war crimes, Yunmeng Bros, the mortifying ordeal of getting seduced by your own husband, nonlinear chronology we die like cql, just kidding nobody dies in this fic, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Miscommunication)

only the dead (have seen the end of war) by comforting_monachopsis (T, 42k, WangXian, Temporary Amnesia, BAMF WWX, Sad LWJ, Grief/Mourning, Mild Gore, Medical Inaccuracies, Secret Identity, Loss of Identity, Identity Porn, The Science of Cultivation, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, Angst and Humor, Crossdressing, WWX is Bad at Feelings)

if you can’t beat them, recruit them by moeblobmegane (T, 228k, Time Travel Fix-It, Conspiracy, Spies & Secret Agents, Team as Family, Found Family)

~*~

5. A) wwx older than jyl n jc

B) wwx taking care of/being responsible for jc n jyl

C) anything that fits the song ' we have each other - Alec Benjamin '

5A)

a decade more to breathe by loosingletters (T, 2k, JYL & WWX, JC & WWX, Canon Divergence, Older Sibling WWX, Fix-It, Family, Hurt/Comfort, WWX is a Jiāng, just a bit of sect politics)

After We Say This series by TiredAndTired (T, 10k, wangxian, LXC & LWJ, LXC & WWX, JC & WWX & JYL, Age Swap, Age Reversal, Good Parent YZY & JFM, Pining, First Dates, NHS Ships It, Give LWJ Friends, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Family Feels, Secret pregnancy, Implied/Referenced Sex, Mpreg)

~*~

6. For the the itmf can we have some classic there is only one bed / stuck in a tiny space wangxian? Can be canon or au just put them boys in situations!

The Look You Give by alightbuthappypen (dairyme) (E, 8k, wangxian, Sharing a Bed, First Time, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Anal Fingering, Bottom LWJ, PWP, Porn with Feelings)

Three Days, Two Nights by ScarlettStorm (E, 21k, WangXian, modern au with cultivation, Canadian Shack, only it's in rural china so the shack is not canadian, Comedy, Pining, snuggling for warmth, Getting Together, Trans WWX, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Kissing, Vaginal Fingering, Frottage, only wwx is a dude so it's not really cunnilingus, it's getting his dick sucked, switch rights) Stuck in a cabin, UST, trans male WWX, good stuff!

~*~

7. For your next itmf I'm looking for fics that features a petty lwj and people, especially wwz and juniors calling him out on it

~*~

8. Helloooo I sent an ask a while back about fics that go into Wei Wuxian using his "A-Xian is three years old!" Phrase as a way to cope with his childhood trauma (like him actually reverting to three sometimes or using it as a way to avoid things...etc). It's been a while since I sent it in and someone did write a fic based on that ask if I remember correctly, but I was wondering if any new fics popped up about it? Please let me know! (Also no sexual age play pls)

~*~

9. hello! thank you for your hard work, and the followers for the help. ITMF a long wwx-centric fic where he is appreciated, and there's very little romance (not much pining and mooning from wwx)

~*~

10. Hey mods ~ A) can you suggest me any fics where Lwj is extremely obsessed with Wei ying ...

B) or Any college/ university Au wangxian but with fluff @selflovingmedj

10A)

A Matter of Time by mrcformoso (E, 44k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, POV LWJ, POV JC, Dark LWJ, Manipulation, Grooming, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Consensual Underage Sex, Except problematic please read warning in first chapter, Blood and Violence, Insane LWJ, Manic LWJ, Conditioning, WWX is a Lán, Minor Character Death, Confused JC, Golden Core Reveal, Good Friend NHS, WWX Isn’t Adopted by the Jiāngs, Abusive Jiāng Family, Jiāng Family Bashing, Jiāng Family Critical, POV NHS, Dark NHS, Anal Sex, Marathon Sex, Dual Cultivation, Qīnghéng-jūn Lives, LWJ Has a Big Dick, WWX Self-Lubricates, Plot Twists, Porn With Plot, Scheming NHS, Manipulative NHS, BAMF LWJ, BAMF WWX)

Obelus by Celestios (Not rated, 167k, wangxian, rape/non-con, non-con elements, NO rape, Non-Consensual Spanking, Non-Consensual Punishments, Spanking, Punishments, Dubious Morality, Dubious Consent, physical discipline, Physical Abuse, Toxic Relationships, Abusive Relationship, Kidnapping, Stockholm Syndrome, mention of violence, mention of drugs, Mention of alcohol, Possessive Behavior, Obsessive Behavior, Unhealthy Relationships, dark LWJ, Baker WWX, Bodyguard WN, Mentions of weapons, Gun mentions, Slow Burn, Long, Doctor WQ, Self Medicating, WWX has ADHD, Trauma Bonding, Psychological Manipulation, Gaslighting, Organized Crime, underground crime, Underground business, illegal business) link in #3

10B)

But really, why? by Scrippio (T, 52k, wangxian, modern, college/university au)

how to fall in love with a catfish: a guide by wei wuxian (disaster rat) by bwyn, Yuisaki (T, 54k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, Actors, Multimedia, Online Friendship, Drunken Shenanigans, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Underage Drinking, Drinking Games, Families of Choice, Fluff and Angst, Slow Burn, Catfish AU)

we’ll get him falling for a stranger (or a catfish) by sweetlolixo (T, 38k, WangXian, Modern AU, College AU, Catfish AU, Eventual Happy Ending, Crossdressing WWX, Pining LWJ, Fluff, Humor, lwj is a grade A+ SIMP, Identity Porn)

The Twin Jade Problem by bonyenne (T, 22k, WangXian, LWJ & LXC, Getting Together, Modern AU, College/University, comedic misunderstandings, Miscommunication, Yes a little bit of angst BUT IT IS RESOLVED (relatively) quickly, POV Multiple, POV Third Person Limited, Happy endings for all involved, Humor)

(Planning the Day) To Meet You by Bettydice (E, 61k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, Mutual Pining, WWX raises A-Yuàn, minimum angst, MAXIMUM GAY, Self-indulgent fluff, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, POV LWJ, Happy Ending, Getting Together, Falling In Love, Masturbation, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Anal Sex, Intercrural Sex)

the earthquake in the room by phnelt (E, 39k, WangXian, College/University, Modern: No Powers, Canada, Getting Together, Mentions of lwj/others, inter-faculty romance, strangers to lovers to frenemies to lovers, mostly book characterisation)

Stumbling Into You by Magnolia822 (E, 39k, WangXian, College/University, Modern AU, Getting Together, Friends to Lovers, Practice Kissing, Bisexuality, Coming Out, New York City, Denial of Feelings, Mutual Pining, Hand Jobs, Jealousy, Light Angst, Fluff and Smut, Slow Burn, Past WWX/MM, Underage Drinking, Recreational Drug Use, Family Dynamics, Falling In Love, Found Family, Unsafe Sex, Minor Character Death, Grief/Mourning)

The epic college romance between Wei Ying and Lan Zhan by KizuKatana (E, 58k, wangxian, modern, college/university au, Guest-starring the belated but incendiary sexual awakening of Lan Zhan, 3rd person pov, Su She is hyperfixated on Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan does his best to pretend Su She doesn't exist, Wei Ying isn't even pretending he really doesn't notice Su She exists, MianMian exists and is awesome, implied offscreen wangxian sex, First Time, Lan Zhan's Horny Grip, Lan Zhan does not know what hit him and yet somehow he still realizes it before Wei Ying, canon wangxian dynamics, Lan Zhan starts off annoyed at Wei Ying, But quickly discovers both his competency kink and a caretaking kink, Genius WWX)

in ever deepening degrees by typefortydeductions (E, 26k, wangxian, modern, college/university au, Mutual Pining, Fluff and Angst, Dom/sub, Non-Binary NHS, trans LSZ, Smut, lil bit of genderplay)

~*~

11. (disclaimer: i appreciate the effort it takes to write every fic, and regardless of /my/ personal preference, the authors and many people love all kinds of fics obviously) so! may i ask for stories that contain some switching, but still have ****good**** novel characterization of lwj and wwx? i usually filter them out entirely due to preference (i mean yeah yiling laozu hot but he's still wei ying) and i feel like im missing out on some good stuff. thank you! (if d/s then dom lwj ofc!)

Not sure if these fit the bill, but they always read as cql but with novel characterizations. And they are so good. Post-cql setting for both:

out in the garden, there's things you hid away by saltyfeathers (E, 121k, WangXian, Possession, Animal Death, mass death event, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt(s), lotta hurt lotta comfort, wwx-centric, unfortunately there's also a bodily fluids warning, just like a lot of bodily fluids, there is sex and it is all in the last chapter, Serious Injuries, Angst with a Happy Ending, Post canon)

and

Boy Trouble, We've Got Double by saltyfeathers (E, 59k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Case Fic, betrothed to someone else, Pining, Unresolved Sexual Tension, WWX POV, Protective wwx, WWX centric, explicit stuff only happens between wangxian, (or wwx and his own hand), Masturbation, Alcohol, Consensual Non-Consent, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, straight boy WWX) both by saltyfeathers. A lot of angst in these! All of their Wangxian fics I've read are soooo good.

The Strength to Hold Him by Toshokanin (E, 7k, WangXian, Post-Canon, PWP, Porn with Feelings, Tender, horny, Bottom LWJ/Top WWX, Rimming, Blow Jobs, Light Bondage, Anal Sex, A hint of sex magic, Dual Cultivation, Overstimulation, a soupçon of sex tears, Aftercare, Established Relationship)

~*~

12. in the mood for fics where the whipping caused lwj to suffer permanent consequences (more severe than the three years of "seclusion" + permanent scars). bonus points if he dies because of it

Despair by AmiraAlzilu (M, 3k, wangxian, LXC & LWJ, LQR & LWJ, LXC & LQR, major character death, Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Grieving LXC, Grieving LQR, LQR Is So Done, Dead LWJ, Dead WWX)

Restart from the End by EmBlu (IcyDeath) (G, 72k, wangxian, major character death, resurrection, role reversal, canon divergence, yiling wei sect au, angst, hurt/comfort,  hurt LWJ, angry WWX, WIP)

the map of days by everythingispoetry (M, 20k, wangxian, canon divergence, angst, hurt/comfort, permanent injury, recovery, disability, parenthood, character study, 13 years of WWX's death)

the anteroom of golden age by everythingispoetry (M, 92k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Disability, Recovery, Mental Health Issues, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Families of Choice, Developing Relationship) Ah I just realised for #12 that the story I recced is actually the sequel to the map of days which you already had listed 🤦‍♀️ however it can be read as a stand-alone which is what I had done as I didn’t realise it was part of a series. anteroom focuses on wangxian and is set after mo manor, whereas the first story is lwj-centric and set during the immediate aftermath of the whipping and takes place during the 13 years of wwx being dead.

~*~

13. Do you know any fics similar to concord by deastar??

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14. Hello! ITMF any canon-era stories which focus heavily on spells or the more magical side of cultivation? Could be a curse gone awry, WWX creating a bunch of spells, the juniors attending a mysticism class, etc. Thank you thank you!

~*~

15. Hello, itmf for heavy angst due to misunderstandings between WWX and LWJ like something where LWJ doesn't trust WWX which upsets WWX. Would you please suggest 3 or 4 fictions like that? Thank you in advance. @paraffin22

我的皇后是農民 | sowing seeds in the cold palace by sweetlolixo (E, 78k, WIP, WangXian, Imperial Palace, Emperor LWJ, Imperial Consort WWX, Farmer WWX, Angst, Romance, Wingman LJY, Wife-chasing-LWJ, Arranged Marriage, Best Boy A-Yuan, not LWJ friendly) not bcuz trust issues b/w them, but super agnsty; i cried so much

Concord by Deastar (T, 41k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Gūsū Lán Sect Rules, Depression, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending) This is a seriously angsty fic because of LWJ's misunderstandings of WWX and he definitely doesn't trust him. Not sure if that's what they're looking for but it broke me quite a few times.

~*~

16. may i ask for fics similar to this one? (It's we that you are for by Vir_Abelasan)

to quote the author's note: One of my biggest kink is for CR study arc wwx to have a teacher like post-timeskip lwj - just someone who would actually take his curiosities and ideas seriously and build a structure around that instead of just trying to stuff him into an ill-fitting, existing structure. [doesn't have to be teacher lwj]

In Walls of Glass by Comfect (T, 43k, LQR & WWX, WangXian, XiCheng, Good Uncle LQR, Teacher LQR, Canon Divergence, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fix-It, Butterfly Effect, JC friendly, Family Feels, Cultivation Theory, POV LQR, Seriously the only WWX Bashing is in the first chapter or so and is canonical in LQR’s head, Initial WWX Bashing, Eventual WWX Appreciation, JC appreciation)

~*~

17. hello!!! hope you’re having a great day!! for the next ITMF, I would like to see if there are more fics like Confusion, with the immortal cultivators in modern era! @darlingjunebug

不忘 | Don’t Forget by dragongirlG (E, 50k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Reincarnation, Fix-It of Sorts, Identity Porn, Social Media, Devotion, Reunions, Feelings, Family, Angst with a Happy Ending, Light Bondage, Names, References to Canon, Modern Era, Artist WWX, Sexual Content, Pining, POV Multiple, Additional Warnings In Author’s Note)

A Grand Immortal Made Me Soup by s6115 (G, 5k, JC & WWX, wangxian, canon divergence, Immortal JC, LWJ, Immortality, Alternate Universe, Yunmeng Duo Days, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Feels, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Jiang Cheng used his immortality to grow and mature, Wei Ying finally reincarnates and the immortal Jiang Cheng isn't going to fail this time, Jiāng Yànlí's Pork Rib and Lotus Root Soup, Good Sibling JC)

Guide by Rainewritesfanfics (G, <1k, LXC & WWX, LXC & LWJ, wangxian, modern, reincarnation au, Immortality, Brothers, Immortal LXC, Immortal LWJ, Reincarnated WWX, Family)

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If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

[writingamongther0ses]

AITA for reuniting with my childhood sweetheart?

I (25F) moved out of my hometown out in the mountains to the city for college at 18, moving in with Sister (30F). This move separated me from my parents and anyone else I knew for years, including my childhood sweetheart (27M). We started out as the typical bully pulling pigtails until CS and I grew up. We admitted feelings at 15 and 16, with him explaining that he always had feelings for me. However, he didn’t want to leave Hometown and didn’t have an interest in college, and so we broke up.

I buckled down, got my business degree, and met Ex (23M) through Sister. She works with him at their publishing company. Ex was always a little cold but he communicated his love through gifts. The biggest gift turned out to be him putting off publishing his first book in order to make sure his own reputation didn’t hurt me as I climbed up the business ladder.

All was fine in my world until last month.

Now, Sister usually visits Hometown for Christmas. I couldn’t for years because I was so busy. This year, however, our roles switched and I ended up going to Hometown.

Now, Hometown has a totally different vibe from City. It has those Hallmark movie vibes with a giant Christmas tree in the center and everything’s cozy and comfy. My parents were super happy to see me again. I was happy to see them too.

Much to my surprise, I ran into CS soon after. He has a job as a lumberjack so he’s super jacked and smells like pine. We started talking and stuff, and I realized that I still had feelings for him- I couldn’t help it! He was the love of my life my entire childhood! He soon admitted that he also had feelings for me. I admit, I got caught up in the feels…

Until Ex showed up.

He came to surprise me for Christmas. He even had a ring. Unfortunately, things didn’t go well. I told him that I had always loved CS, and his response was So our relationship was a lie? He even pointed out the thing with the book, and I pointed out that books weren’t a steady job. He ended up leaving, and I brushed it off. CS was a good distraction.

Until Sister showed up, having called off work to talk to me. Apparently, she was the one to arrange Ex to show up and knew for weeks that he was planning to propose. She told our parents about him and now my parents are freaking out, because they encouraged my reunion with CS. Now I feel bad because… My ex loved me.

So, was I the AITA?

[beanerbrujx]

Repeat after me:

ARIZONA IS NOT ALL DESERT

Yes, I live in the Valley of the Sun

Yes, our state capital is named after a mythical fire bird (Phoenix)

Yes, my city gets over 115f (46c) often in summer

But Arizona is NOT only desert

Arizona also has Flagstaff

Peyson

Sedona

Y'all hear AZ and immediately jump to the Valley when the state is so much more than that

Az is known for 5 Cs

Citrus, Cattle, Copper, Cotton, and CLIMATE

My state is one of the most diverse in terms of climate in the United States, all of these place are a short drive from my city (🐦‍🔥), you can be sweating bullets, drive a bit, and hit waterfalls, mountains, pine trees, etc

I get "it's a dry heat" is a common joke but I'm so annoyed when ppl hear "Arizona" they immediately jump to cacti and rocks

[princess-and-the-swan]

MC Fic Rec: Figure It Out

By @kymbersmith-90 | Rating: M

A lot can change in 3 years. Careers can rise and fall. Friends come and go. And relationships begin and end. WIP as of 05/20/2024. An Actors au in which Emma and Killian were former costars where they used to play the equivalent of Benson/Stabler. They are super close and after Killian finds out that his wife is cheating on him, Emma is his rock. This fic is awesome because it's a combination of so many different tropes: friends to lovers, friends to roommates, roommates to lovers, divorced!killian, etc. It's a super fun read and currently a WIP but I don't think it's been abandoned and there's a good portion of the work already complete.

Read it on AO3

[donteattheappleshook]

His - A Captain Swan AU Chapter 3/10

Summary

Mature widower with good home wishes to make acquaintance of a hardworking girl or widow. No children. Object matrimony.

When Emma Swan flees scandal in New York to marry a man she’s never met in Storybrooke, Montana, she doesn’t have any illusions of finding love. But when she’s picked up at the station by Killian Jones, it finds her regardless. Despite sharing his home, his bed, and his heart, she can never truly be his.

Read it on Ao3

Catch up on Tumblr 1 2

Thank you thank you thank you @elizabeethan and @the-darkdragonfly​ for all your help with this fic! the best pocket friends and besties an girl could ask for!

******

Part 3

Brennan is still sleeping when she wakes up in the morning, and by the sound of the consistent, heavy snores that drift over to her side of the bed, she thinks that he will be for a while. He hadn’t budged the whole night. While Emma had tossed and turned in her new, unfamiliar bed next to her new, unfamiliar husband before finally falling into a restless sleep plagued by unwanted dreams, he’d laid still as the dead. She’d have been worried if it weren’t for the snoring. 

She steps out of bed gingerly, careful to make as little sound as possible so as not to wake him. Emma doesn’t know what kind of morning person he is yet, and she doesn’t think pulling him from his sleep before dawn is a good way to find out. Besides, if she can get breakfast started now, it’ll probably be ready and on the table by the time he and Killian come down. Maybe making up for the small disaster that was dinner will help get her back into her husband’s good graces - if she was ever there in the first place. 

Fetching a clean dress from her trunk - the last one, she’ll have to do laundry soon - the simple pinstripe much more practical than the ruined lace from yesterday, she pulls it on over her shift. As she begins closing the (thankfully front facing) laces though, she feels the ghost of Killian’s fingers against her spine, the memory of his breath on the back of her neck as he’d helped her out of her dress last night. 

She shakes her head, yanking the laces harshly and banishing the memory. That was a mistake. She should have just skipped the bath and slept in her damn dress. Killian shouldn’t have been helping her undress on her wedding night. He isn’t her husband. He’s her husband’s son, she scolds herself. Finishing dressing, Emma looks back at where Brennan still lays unmoving and snoring. It was a mistake. And it won’t happen again. She just needs to keep her distance from now on. 

The stairs creak softly under her bare feet as she makes an effort to climb down them silently so as not to wake anyone in the house. But as she reaches the kitchen she stops dead in her tracks when she’s met with the sight of a kettle steaming on the stove. She sees him before he sees her, his back to her as he turns from the bowl he was busy with on the counter and reaches for a cloth to wrap around the handle of the kettle to move it off the fire. 

For a moment, she debates going back upstairs, hiding in her room until he’s gone or Brennan wakes up or she can at least get her panicked, hammering heart under control. But the stair creaks under her foot again as she takes a step backwards and he turns, blinking at her in surprise. 

“Emma,” he greets, his forced smile looking more like a wince. “Sorry, did I wake you?” 

She shakes her head, still undecided about whether or not she’s going to make a run for it and he looks relieved. Relieved and uncomfortable - possibly as uncomfortable as she is right now. It had been so easy to talk to him yesterday and now they’re both looking at each other like they’d rather be anywhere else but in this kitchen. She was an idiot. She shouldn’t have asked him. He shouldn’t have said yes. Emma had one friend in this new life and she’d blown it in less than a night. 

“I was going to make breakfast,” she says dumbly because she can’t think of anything else to say. 

“Right. I’ll just… finish the coffee then. Taking the lid off the kettle, he reaches for the bowl next to it and starts pouring the contents in. it takes her a moment to figure out what she’s seeing. 

“Wait-” she insists and he startles. “Are you putting eggs in the coffee?” She looks between him and the bowl. Yeah, she saw that right. There are eggshells mixed in with the grounds. 

Killian looks confused for a second before he follows her gaze and nods. “Aye, well, eggshells,” he explains as though that makes sense. “What?” 

“Why?” She’d only ever had coffee in restaurants or in the Gold mansion with Neal when he would sneak some into her room in the morning, and she’d only ever seen the chef make it once or twice but she’s certain there were no eggs involved. 

“It keeps the grounds from getting into the cup.” Again, he’s speaking to her and looking at her as though it’s perfectly rational. Her face must betray her confusion because she sees the corner of his mouth quirk. “You’ll be hard pressed to find a drip pot in these parts. We make due with what we can.” 

“But,” she hesitates. “Doesn’t it taste… eggy?” Emma tries to fight her slight revulsion and Killian bites his lip hard against a laugh, suddenly seeming a little more at ease.

“They’re clean, Swan.” 

She pauses at the nickname that slips from him so easily, smirk still fighting to pull across his face and thinks he doesn’t even realise he’d used it. She likes it. Swan. It feels like a reminder of who she is, her self that she's already started to lose. She’d given it up when she’d spoken her vows yesterday and now it’s as though he’s given it right back. 

“Try it if you don’t believe me,” Killian challenges, pouring the rest of the mixture in and putting the kettle back on the heat. “It’ll be ready in a minute.” 

Emma eyes him skeptically, finally toeing her way down the last few steps into the room. “How do I know you’re not just doing this so you can laugh at me?” Her tone is playful but his answer is more sincere than she’d have expected.

“I wouldn’t laugh at you, Emma,” he promises and she thinks of the way his father had laughed at her yesterday, the way he’d mocked Killian. He means it. “Besides, if I wanted to, I’m sure I could find a less involved way than ruining perfectly good coffee to do it. Just put everything back up on the top shelf or something.”   

Emma fights her own laugh. He’s teasing her again, and it feels different than being laughed at, different from how her husband mocks. Even if she can’t see his face she can picture his grin and the faint red on his cheeks. She likes it too. She likes too many things that he says and does, too many things about him. 

Pushing her way into the kitchen and making a point to nudge him playfully with her elbow as she grabs the frying pan from above the stove, she sets herself up on the counter next to him, her breath catches at the easy smile that he gives her. “Do you have any more eggs or did you put them all in your weird concoction there?” 

His brow quirks up, amused, before he reaches across her into the sink and retrieves a bowl and sets it down between them. “Already cracked. I was going to fry them up.”

“Did you go get these this morning?” Emma asks, looking out the window where the sky is barely gray. 

He shrugs. “I’m not one for sleeping late. Liam and I trained ourselves to wake up early when we were younger so we would be ready for when we, ah…” he trails off, not finishing his thought, mind somewhere else as he absentmindedly brushes the rigid fingers of his wooden hand.

“Your father said he joined the Navy?”

Killian nods, clears his throat. “Aye. We were supposed to enlist together but, well, the Navy doesn’t take one-handed officers,” he shrugs as though it’s nothing but she can see that it’s not. 

“Maybe you should consider piracy,” Emma suggests, thinking of all the pamphlets she’d squirreled away and read as a child, the stories she’d made Ingrid tell her again and again about Blackbeard and Calico Jack and Anne Bonney. “You could get a hook.”

For a moment, she worries she’s spoken out of turn, that she’s been insensitive, but when she lifts her eyes to meet his, he’s giving her that disbelieving, amused curl to his lips. 

“Perhaps I should. Though if you think eggs in your coffee is bad you should hear what they’re doing onboard. Liam said they’ve taken to using socks to filter it.” Emma grimaces and he laughs. 

“I’ll take the shells.” 

The coffee turns out to not be as terrible as Emma expected. It’s not the best cup she’s had, and definitely grittier than any she’s drank before, but it's palatable and she’s grateful for the pick-me-up when Killian pours her a mugfull. Though she could have done without the smug ‘I told you so’.

“I’m going to need to go to the store soon,” Emma broaches as she stirs the eggs in the frying pan. There hadn’t been anything to add to them apart from the last bit of salt that hadn’t been thrown in the stew last night. She’d also used up the last of the meat and the vegetables that she’d managed to find in the root cellar. She hadn’t been expecting anything like the food she’d been treated to at the Gold’s mansion where even the servants ate better than most, but Brennan had made it pretty clear that all that was expected of her was decent meals and a clean house. And she can’t do that with a bag of flour and empty cupboards. Emma wonders briefly if nobody had bothered to refill them since Cora passed. 

Killian nods. “I could pick things up for you on my way back from town if you tell me what you need. Sometimes Granny will trade some bacon for steak or peaches if I catch her in a good mood. We’ve got the chicken and the cattle for meat though.” 

“You have cattle?” Emma asks in surprise. She hadn’t seen any in the fields when she arrived yesterday and realizes the farm must be even larger than she’d first thought. 

“Aye, and Lucy in the barn. I suppose you haven’t seen the land yet.” Emma only shakes her head, moving to spoon eggs onto plates. “I could show you around when I get home from the shop this afternoon. We aren't open today but I have an order coming in and inventory to do.”

“I’d like that,” she agrees, strangely relieved, and his expression softens. 

“I apologize, love. I forget that this must be hard - a new town, a new home, and surrounded by unknown land and strange people.”

Emma shrugs. “I’m used to it,” she admits and while she can see the curiosity in his eyes, he doesn’t press. “And the people aren’t so bad,” she adds, setting a plate down in front of him and turning away so he can’t see the way her face warms at his hesitant smile. Stop it, she scolds herself. This is the opposite of keeping your distance from him.

Before either of them can say anything else, the sound of Brennan walking down the stairs fills the room. Killian’s back straightens as the lightheartedness of his expression hardens, and Emma notices the way her own shoulders tense. She busies herself pouring a third cup of coffee, it and a plate of eggs set down in front of her husband when he strides in bleary eyed and sits at the table, clearly not the morning person his sons are. 

It’s not often that Emma finds herself at a loss for what to do in a given situation, not often that she feels too uneasy to speak; yet every time she’s in this man’s presence her voice leaves her and she feels like a frightened child. Every fleeting thought feels like the wrong one, every word something that could set him off. And she wants him to like her - she needs him to. So she stumbles. 

She should wish him good morning. That seems like a reasonable thing for a wife to say to her husband over breakfast. But the dark circles under his eyes and the discontented frown on his brow suggest he’s likely feeling the effects of his night at the tavern and so maybe it’s not such a good morning at all. 

Somewhere between the hammering of her heart in her ears and the scrape of Brennan’s fork against his plate, she can feel herself being watched, turning to catch Killian’s gaze on her before it darts to his father. He looks between them again and then once more, frustration and pity in the line of his brow - though she’s not sure for who. 

“I was going to walk Emma around the property today,” he says then, voice cutting loud through the tense silence. 

Brennan barely looks up from his breakfast, muttering, “What is she, a dog?” under his breath, and she only just catches the way Killian’s fist clenches before he continues. 

“Maybe you’d like to join us. Show your wife her new home.” 

Grunting, he sets his fork down and stands. “I’ve got work to do. Not all of us can sit around reading all day,” he sneers and Emma can see by the way his son doesn’t even flinch that this is an old argument, a regular dismissal. 

“Aye, just drinking,” he spits under his breath, low enough that she knows neither of them were meant to hear it. 

“Pretty sure she can walk without me,” Brennan continues, then looks her over quickly with a wry little smirk. “If we’re chalking yesterday up to the dress.” 

She can hear you, Emma wants to snap at him. But instead she only folds her arms behind her back, digs her nails into her palm and tries to force a pleasant expression. “Of course. Perhaps we’ll see you in the field,” she ventures, hoping for any kind of olive branch, any hint that he might actually wish for her company - or at least enjoy it. 

“Why would you do that, haven’t you got enough to do in the house?” he answers with a curt snort. “Thinking of working the farm now?” he laughs.

Emma’s nails dig harder, casting her eyes to the floor. “No, of course not.”

Brennan’s laugh turns into a cough, one that grows so quickly and viciously that for a moment she thinks he’s choking. But then it’s over as soon as it started, both he and his son seeming completely unphased by the violent attack. 

“Actually we probably won't have time to visit anyway,” Killian cuts in then, coming to stand beside her and she’s grateful for a moment for the little bit steadier it makes her feel. “We’re going into town for groceries.” She looks at him quickly and there’s an invitation in his expression. She hurries to hide her smile before Brennan grunts dismissively again. 

“So long as you’re back on time to make dinner,” he answers, grabbing his hat and setting it on his head. “I don’t care what you do. And pick up some shoes for the horses if you're spending your day shopping.” 

Once he’s out the door, Emma moves to grab his plate, needing something to do to stamp down the embarrassment that won’t stop burning through her. She doesn’t even know what she’s embarrassed about - that her husband doesn’t care about her? That he’s so blatant about it? That he dismissed her so easily in front of someone else - someone who might actually care? But Killian stops her, taking the plate from her hands to clear it himself. 

“Emma,” he says, pausing with concern as he sets the dish down in the sink and comes back to take her hand in his. Turning her palm up to see the lines left by her fingernails. He brushes his thumb carefully over them and lifts his gaze up to hers. 

She curls her fist. “It’s just a nervous habit,” she dismisses.

Killian cocks his head at her, frowning. “Does he make you nervous?” His frown depends when she doesn’t answer. “Did he do something?”

“No. Of course not.” She pulls her hand away, hiding both behind her back once more. Because what is she supposed to say? That she spent the evening hoping her drunk husband wouldn’t wake up and notice her? While he looks relieved, his expression softens with worry, and guilt. 

“Do I make you nervous?” Yes, she thinks, but not in the way he means. So she shakes her head and he lets out a breath. “Good.” After a moment where neither speak, only a small smile passing between them, he clears his throat. “Would you like to come into town with me? I can show you around.” 

“Yes,” she nods and he heads for the door, opening it and gesturing for her to go through first. 

Killian leads her out around the side of the house towards the barn she’d walked by when she first arrived - just far enough away from the house that it could be mistaken as part of it. The wagon sits outside the doors, ready to go. 

“I have to get the horses,” he says and she nods, waiting awkwardly by the cart. “Do you want to help?”

She does but, “I don’t know anything about horses.” 

“You’ll have to learn then,” he offers with a friendly smile, pushing the heavy door open in invitation. Catching her lip against an excited, nervous grin, she follows him in. The smell of hay hits her first, potent and fresh, followed by the slightly more unpleasant smell of manure and then the warm, musky smell of the horses. Killian chuckles. “You get used to it.” 

“It’s not that bad,” she tells him honestly. 

“Looks like David hasn’t come around to muck them out yet. He’ll be horribly embarrassed if he hears a lady was here to see the place like this.” The mirthful way he says it makes her think he’s absolutely going to tell Mr. Noland just that. 

Emma’s only just followed him down the beginning of the corridor before she jumps, a loud mewling bellow coming from beside her and scaring the life out of her. Turning, heart racing, she comes face to face with an enormous cow. Tan coat and mop of soft hair on top of her head, she stands eye to eye with Emma, staring at her as she hoofs at the ground behind her stable door, her stomach nearly as wide as she is tall. 

“Lucy,” Killian scolds and she realizes he’s talking to the animal. “That’s no way to welcome the new lady of the house.” The cow grunts, hoofing again and he smirks at Emma. “She thinks she’s the boss around here - hated Cora.” He walks up to the beast, reaches out to stroke her forehead. “You’ll be nicer to this one, won’t you?” Another huff, somehow managing to sound like disgruntled agreement. 

“Here,” he says then, letting his prosthetic take the place of his hand as he holds it out for Emma to take. She does, nervously, his fingers warm around hers. Gently, he guides her hand to lay it on the cow’s nose, his own covering it so they’re petting her together. Lucy gives another huff and Emma nearly pulls her arm back. He scowls at the animal. “Don’t be jealous.” She settles, letting Emma stroke her. 

“She’s huge,” Emma whispers, as though she might offend the cow. 

“She’s pregnant. She got loose one night and headed straight for the bullpen.” He rolls his eyes, addressing the cow now. “Had your sights set on Arnold since he arrived didn’t you?”

“Your bull is called Arnold?” she giggles. 

“Liam’s bad with names.” He gives Lucy one last affectionate pat and then begins down the hall again. “Do you want to meet the horses?” She nods, following him to another stall where a beautiful black stallion rushes to meet him at the door, tossing his head as he hops impatiently against the ground. Killian beams. “Locksley and Noland have taken Wilby and Little John out already. This is Roger. He’s still young and a little wild, but a good lad,” he tells her, petting the horse affectionately. Roger neighs loudly either in agreement or disagreement, she’s not sure, clearly itching to get out of his pen. 

“Did Liam name him too?” she smirks. 

Killian looks almost offended. “Roger is a fine name. Isn’t it, boy?” 

A non-committal huff comes from the horse as Killian picks up the bridle and settles the animal enough to secure it around his ears, muttering things to him like ‘you want to get out so bad you need to let me put this on’ and ‘every time, Roger, really.’ Emma tries not to laugh at the way he talks to the animals, it’s almost endearing honestly. He continues mumbling praise and reprimands as he steps inside and secures a harness around the animal’s shoulders and back. 

“There,” he says when he’s finished. “Almost ready.” He ducks out of the stall, shutting the door quickly as Roger tries to follow him. “Patience,” he scolds. “We’ll go in a minute.” 

Killian leads her to the next pen, this one quieter and she pokes her head in over the door when no animal makes itself known. In the back, munching lazily on hay is a large brown mare, this one clearly older than the stallion and seeming very content to stay in the stall - uninterested in her visitors. 

“Come on,” he says, picking up the bridle and unhooking the latch. He hands her the mess of leather straps as he steps inside, waiting for her to join him. “This is Jewel, Liam’s horse. Don’t worry,” he assures her when she hesitates to approach. “She’s about the sweetest - and the laziest,” he adds, seemingly for Jewel’s benefit - “horse you’ll ever meet.” The horse in question knickers dismissively. “Aye, seems to think she’s off the hook since my brother left. But you can’t sit around all day eating hay or you’ll end up as big as Lucy.” He turns back to Emma then. “I’ll show you how to get her tacked up,” he offers. “It’s all right,” Killian promises. “Kicking you would be too much effort for this one.” 

“How comforting.” 

He shows her how to get the bridle on, and then the harness as he’d done for Roger and there are so many straps and buckles that she’s not sure she could remember how to do this on her own. But Jewel sits patiently through all of it, nudging Emma softly on the shoulder when she’s done, mouthing at her hair, making her giggle softly. 

“You are sweet, aren’t you?” The horse begins nosing at her hands and pockets in response, looking for a treat. “I’m sorry, I don’t have anything. But I’ll bring you something back from the shop, how about that?” Jewel huffs in approval and Emma smiles. Uh oh, now she’s doing it too, talking to the animals like they understand her. 

“You okay to stay here with her while I’ll get Roger out and settled?” Killian asks and Emma nods, stroking the animal’s cheek and neck. She catches his little smile as he steps back out of the stall, overhears his ‘Are you gonna behave?’ directed at the younger horse. 

“I know you’re Liam’s,” she whispers gently to the mare. “But I think we could get along, don’t you?” Jewel nudges her chest and Emma can’t hold her smile back. “I could use another friend here.” One that she isn’t thinking about when she shouldn’t be and dreaming about while sleeping next to her husband. She stays with the horse, feeding her handfuls of hay until Killian returns, looking a little winded. 

“Do you want to lead her out?” he asks. When she looks at Jewel uncertainly, he steps inside, takes the reins from the horse’s back and holds them together under her chin. “Just like that. You might have to give her a bit of a pull to get her going.” Doing as he shows her, she takes the reins and starts towards the doors of the barn. The horse follows her easily, though at her own pace, and Killian scoffs. “I see she already likes you better.” As if in confirmation, the mare mouths at her hair again. 

When they reach the cart, Roger begins bouncing again, hopping from foot to foot and letting out excited neighs, then rears up on his hind legs, making Emma stumble back in alarm. Jewel snarls at the stallion, snapping her teeth and huffing, startling Emma who didn’t expect the reaction from such a gentle horse. Roger settles immediately and Killian snorts. 

“You tell him, girl,” he encourages, then looks at Emma. “She’s his mother - and, it would seem, a little protective of you.” 

Once both horses are rigged up to the cart, Roger far more subdued with his mother standing next to him, Killian holds out a hand to help her up into the seat. She takes it gratefully, gathering her skirt to step up more easily, happy for the steadiness he offers. Briefly, she’s reminded of her first meeting with him, of being helped up into this same cart and driven to her new life. It’s only been a day but already her life has changed so much. 

The ride into town feels shorter than the one they’d made to the farm yesterday, Killian pointing out different farms along the way, telling her about their owners, and showing her places he and his brother used to play as children. He seems to have a story for every overgrown tree and field of corn or tall grass.

“I hope I get to meet him someday soon,” she tells Killian about his brother. 

“Aye, you will. He comes home about twice a year if he can. He thinks I need checking up on,” Killian rolls his eyes. 

“Do you?” 

“No, but my brother stepped in when our mother died and Brennan… Well, he couldn’t handle it. Liam can’t seem to stop playing mother now,” he explains wryly. 

“Maybe once you’re married he’ll stop feeling the need to look after you,” she suggests, teasing. 

“Aye perhaps.” He goes quiet, looking away, staring out at the road ahead, the town growing closer and larger. 

He leads them along the single, wide road that runs through the center of the town, pointing out different buildings: the sheriff’s station, the bank, the tavern, the blacksmiths… Finally, they pull up in front of a shop, the biggest one on the street. The sign reads “Lucas General Store” and she figures they’re here. Killian hops out, coming around the side to help her down. She doesn’t need it per say but she’d rather not stumble out again, so she lets him take hold of her waist and settles her hands on his shoulders as he helps her make the jump from the cart to the ground. 

“We should add a step,” he thinks out loud, looking at the wagon. 

“My pride would definitely appreciate it,” she laughs and he turns to her, smiling back and it’s a moment before she realizes they’re still holding on to one another - out here in the middle of the street for anyone to see. Carefully, she steps back, clearing her throat and wiping her hands off on her skirt as he drops his hands immediately, busies himself with securing the horses to the hitching post. 

“Shall we?” 

The store is fairly quiet, perhaps because of the early hour, but it’s large and well stocked and Emma thinks she could definitely find what she needs here to feed them for a while. ‘General’ really does seem to be the right word. The place has everything from food to farm equipment to children’s toys and even a few dresses in the window. She supposes the town's too small for separate shops like there were in New York and this makes one simple, convenient stop for those coming in from farms way out of town.

Emma notices a small hair comb on a table of scattered, mismatched objects, smiling fondly at the small golden flowers and leaves carved into the metal. Ingrid had one like this, a family heirloom, and she’d let her wear it once around the house when she was a little girl. It was the first time she’d thought she might have a family after all - until the kind woman passed and she was moved to another home.

“Pretty,” Killian remarks. She only hums. She doesn’t have use for pretty here. Her dress showed her that well enough. This is her new life and she needs to leave her old one behind if she’s going to survive it - even the pieces that she’ll miss. 

“If you’re alright here, I’m going to go grab some things for the farm,” Killian says and she nods, leaving the comb and heading over to where the groceries are stored. She’s been browsing for a bit, making a list of what to order when a voice interrupts her thoughts.

“Just who are you?” She turns to face a tall brunette, maybe a few years younger than her and stunningly beautiful. She’s looking at Emma quizzically and then shakes her head. “I’m sorry, how rude. I’m Ruby Lucas. This is my store.” 

“Your store?” she asks in surprise. It’s not unheard of for women to have their own businesses but it’s still a shock to see - especially one so young who doesn’t seem to be wearing a ring. 

Ruby nods. “It was my father’s.” Was - so that explains it. “You’re new here.” 

“Yes. I arrived yesterday.” 

“Have you got a name?” The girl questions with a smirk. 

“Emma, Emma Swan - no, wait,” she corrects herself quickly and the other woman frowns at this stranger who seems to have forgotten her own name. “Jones. It’s Emma Jones now.” 

Ruby’s eyes widen. “You’re Brennan Jones’ new wife.” She schools her features quickly. “We heard you were coming - everyone’s been talking about it. We don’t get many strangers in Storybrooke.” She looks Emma over. “You're young,” she notes. “And very pretty.” 

“Um, thank you.” 

“Stand down, Miss Lucas, she’s married,” Killian says then, coming over and Ruby gives him a smirk which he returns. 

“I’m aware of that. I was just getting to know your new stepmother.” 

He winces at the word. “Aye, and collecting information for the town gossips.” 

The woman makes an exaggerated show of offense, putting her hand to her chest and gasping at him. “I would never. I was just going to help the new Mrs. Jones with her order. Now run along and let us ladies chat.” She turns to Emma then. “What do you need? I can take it all down and then have Will bring it out to your cart.” She motions to the young man standing at the counter, also watching them. 

“Um, quite a lot,” she admits. “Vegetables, potatoes, cornmeal, sugar, lard,” she begins listing off and Ruby gapes at her. 

“Did they leave the cupboards bare for you?” she demands, turning to Killian with a small glare and he sighs. 

“I, um, don’t really know many recipes, so anything else you could suggest,” she admits, the other woman’s boldness making her feel braver. “I’m not the best cook.” 

“Nonsense,” Killian argues. “You did a fine job.” 

Emma scoffs. “I think the bread I burned would disagree.”

“It was hardly burned. And you weren’t hired as a cook, Emma.” 

Ruby looks between the two of them and Emma tries to force her face to stop from flushing at Killian’s kindness, not wanting the other woman to see and mistake it for something else. 

“I’ll tell you what,” she says. “You come with me,” she tells her, taking Emma’s hand in hers, “and I’ll get the rest of your order sorted and filled later.”

“Where are we going?” 

“To Granny’s. Killian,” she says, surprising Emma with the informal use of his name. “You busy yourself for a bit and you can come find her at the inn later.” 

He sighs, fingers the pocket watch in his trousers. “I need a few hours at the shop. I could meet you for lunch and then we can head back.” 

Looking between the two of them and realizing she doesn’t have much say in this, Emma nods. If Killian doesn’t have an issue with her going to this “Granny’s” with Miss Lucas, then she assumes it can’t be anything to worry about. She trusts him and he seems to trust Ruby. Enough that she’s allowed to call him Killian, she thinks with a sharp pang she shouldn’t be feeling. 

“Perfect,” the other woman says. “Come with me, I’ve got just the thing,” she promises, leading her towards the door. 

When they’re on the street, Ruby links her arm through Emma’s like they’re lifelong friends and smiles at her. “It must be hard, moving out to that farm with all those men, marrying a complete stranger. Especially Brennan Jones.” Emma doesn’t answer, only looks at her feet as they walk. “I’m sorry,” Ruby apologizes, sounding abashed. “I don’t mean to be insensitive. I just think it must be an adjustment. Mr. Jones can be…” she doesn’t finish the thought. “We should be friends,” she declares. 

Emma smiles despite herself. “I’d like that.” 

“Good. Women need each other. Especially out here where there’s three men to every one of us. Where are you from? It must be wonderful compared to our sleepy town.” 

 “New York.” 

Ruby beams with excitement. “Really? Is it fabulous? I’m going to live there someday. As soon as Will gets up the nerve to ask for my hand we’re going to sell the shop and move out there.”

“It’s different,” Emma agrees, not missing the strange relief that passes through her at the mention of Ruby marrying the boy in the shop. “I’ve never seen so many mountains and blue skies.” 

She shrugs. “You see one mountain, you've seen them all. Is it true that the buildings in New York are taller than our trees?” 

They talk about New York the rest of the way down the road, back towards where Emma and Killian arrived, townsfolk giving them a second look as they pass by. She really is the town’s main source of gossip now. 

Ruby brings them inside a building called ‘Granny’s Inn’, walking straight through to the back and into a kitchen where an older woman stands kneading dough. 

She looks up and sighs, setting her hands on her hips. “Ruby, I hope you didn’t leave that boy to run the shop by himself again. He broke three plates last time.” Ruby ignores her. 

“Granny, this is the new Mrs. Jones. Emma, I’d like you to meet my grandmother.” 

The old woman wipes her hands on her apron. “Oh? You run away from that cad already?” 

“Um, no…” 

“She needs help, Granny. She’s out there cooking for the Jones’ and their farmhands, and doesn’t know where to start.” Emma flushes with embarrassment. 

“What, your mother didn’t teach you?” 

“I didn’t have a mother,” she admits and Granny softens, looking to her granddaughter with something nearing sympathy. 

“Well,” she says, less brash than she was a moment ago. “I need to get the lunch ready. You can help me with that and I suppose I can show you a thing or two.” 

Emma relaxes a little and Ruby squeezes her shoulders reassuringly. “Believe me, if Granny can teach me how to not burn bread, there’s hope for you yet.” 

‘A thing or two’ turns out to be more than Emma ever learned in her entire life about cooking. They prepare chicken and vegetables, potatoes and gravy, Granny getting a roast ready to be cooked throughout the day for dinner. As they cook, the woman giving her detailed instructions on the steps to follow - you’re chopping those too finely. They’ll turn to mush - she talks about other recipes, ones from Ruby’s childhood that she still makes at home, and how to prepare them. 

They bake coffee cake and biscuits, Granny, to her credit, not losing her patience with Emma when the dough sticks to her hands and the table, showing her how to fix it. They make bread - so much bread - until Emma has made nearly a dozen loaves, her kneading technique corrected over and over until the dough is left to rise and kneaded again before going in the oven.  

How Granny does this every day on her own, she has no idea. It’s exhausting work and she’s cooking for dozens of people. The food she prepares is impressive. Emma wouldn’t have expected much from a little country inn with a dining room, but her recipes would give the Gold’s cook a run for his money. And she does it without breaking a sweat. When they’ve finished, Emma realizes that hours have passed, the sun high in the sky, shining through the little kitchen window. 

“Not bad,” Granny tells her as she surveys the fruits of their labour, and Emma can’t help but feel proud. 

Ruby returns then, taking in the spread they’ve prepared and smiling at her. “I told you. Granny works magic.” 

“We’ll have to wait and see how it tastes first,” Emma says cautiously. 

“And you’ve got a very willing guinea pig sitting out there right now,” her new friend tells her with a knowing smile and she shouldn’t return it but she does.

“Well don’t just stand there,” Granny tells her granddaughter. “Help us get lunch out on the tables.” 

They make their way into the crowded dining room, setting food out in front of patrons, each of them curious and friendly when they notice a new face, making introductions and welcoming her to town. When they’ve been served, Emma grabs two more plates and brings them over to the table where Killian sits, focused intently on a book in his hand.

“What are you reading?” He smiles widely at her, holding up the cover for her inspection - A General History of Pyrates - and she laughs. “Pirates?”

“Aye, your suggestion this morning made me think I should consider my options.”

“Hungry?” Emma holds the plates up and he nods. 

She sets them down, taking a seat herself and waiting as he sets his book down and picks up his fork. She shifts anxiously, watching him, too nervous to eat herself and Killian laughs. “I can’t eat with you staring at me like that.”

“Just tell me if it’s any good. And be honest.” 

“Granny’s food is always good - apart from that one lunch special…” he grimaces.

“Yes, but I made this one,” she tells him, gesturing to the plate. Killian raises a brow, fighting a grin as he makes a show of picking up his fork and taking a bite. “Well?” Emma presses. 

“I’d believe you if you told me Granny made it.” 

Emma catches her smile between her teeth as it tries to take over her whole face. “Try the bread. It isn’t burnt.” 

He chokes out a laugh. “How could I not, with such a strong endorsement?” She knows he’s indulging her as he takes a bite, but this is the first time she’s ever made a loaf that didn’t come out burnt or raw or some combination of both. “It’s perfect, Swan,” he promises.

Thrilled, Emma finally manages to eat some of her own lunch. When they’ve finished and he asks if she’s ready to go, the groceries already packed into the wagon, she nods but tells him she has to go say goodbye to Granny first. 

The older woman actually manages a smile in answer to Emma’s thanks. “Here,” she says gruffly, handing her a small journal. Opening it, Emma finds pages of hand-written recipes inside. “I’ll want those back but I have most of them memorized. You can copy some down and then return it. I better see you here again soon.” 

The way she says it makes Emma think that maybe she wants an excuse to check up on her, like Liam does for Kilian. And for someone who never had a mother or a grandmother, it means the world. 

“Thank you.” 

Granny startles when she hugs her, but when Emma lets her go she takes both of her arms and looks at her sternly. “If that man gives you any trouble you come right back here, understand? There’s plenty of rooms upstairs.” 

“I’m fine, Mrs. Lucas, really.” 

“Just remember what I said, any trouble at all.”

***

Emma talks about her day the whole way home, telling him how many loaves Granny made her bake and how sore her arms are from all the kneading and how she’s pretty sure the old woman could lift a horse if she does that every day. Jewel huffs in offense. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to see the shop,” she tells him as they reach the house. 

“You can come next week,” he promises, “stay as long as you want and read for free. Family discount.” 

They unload the groceries, filling the cupboards and the cold storage with the ample amount of food Ruby added to their order. She sets the notebook down carefully on the counter, running a hand over the cover. 

“What’s that?” 

“Granny lent it to me,” she explains as she continues to put things away, Killian leafing through the pages behind her. “Some of it’s a bit adventurous,” she admits. “But I think I can manage the easier ones.” 

He shuts the book, smiling at her. “I’m sure you can. We have some time if you’d still like to see the farm,” Killian offers. She doesn’t have to start cooking for at least an hour. 

“Let me just get some dough ready and I’ll leave it to rise while we walk.” 

“Are you sure your arms can take it?”

“I’ll be lifting horses in no time.” 

He laughs. “I’ll get Roger and Jewel out in the pasture, let them run around - or nap, in her case. Come find me outside when you’re ready.” 

“Wait! Here,” she says, handing him a carrot. “I promised her a treat.”

“I don’t know how Liam will feel when he comes home and finds out you’ve stolen his horse right out from under him.” 

She smirks as he heads out the door. 

Emma gathers her ingredients, mixing them without having to think anymore, the recipe repeated so many times it’s ingrained now, muscle memory. Her arms ache as she folds and pounds the dough into shape, and unlike yesterday, when she’d felt exhausted and at a loss, today she feels hopeful. She can make this work. She can settle into a life here. She doesn’t feel quite so incompetent; she has a new friend in town, even a horse she already considers her own. 

And Killian… Killian is complicated. Her favorite thing about Storybrooke so far and the one person she knows she should be avoiding at all costs - even if she doesn’t want to. But he’s her friend, her family now, really. She can learn to see him as such. 

She’s clung to him since she arrived because he was the first person she met, the first to show her kindness when she was at her lowest. That’s all. In time, she’ll get over the awkward attraction. He’s handsome and charming and she needed someone to be her friend. That’s all it is, she tells herself again. He probably doesn’t even see her as anything other than his father’s wife. It’ll be fine. It’s all in her head. 

Reaching for the recipe book to pick something to make tonight before heading out, she lifts the cover - and freezes. Resting carefully on the first page is a hair comb, little golden flowers and leaves carved into the metal. She runs her fingers over the petals, tracing the length of it as her heart begins to race. 

It’ll be fine.

******

@kmomof4 @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly @xhookswenchx @undercaffinatednightmare @jennjenn615 @dramioneswan @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @batana54 @lfh1226-linda @csalltheway @xsajx @xarandomdreamx @onceratheart18 @ownedbycaptainswan @teamhook @pirateprincessofpizza @lostintheskyfaraway @zaharadessert @thejollyroger-writer @ultraluckycatnd @justanother-unluckysoul @spartanguard @jonesfandomfanatic @deckerstarblanche @jrob64 @klynn-stormz @wefoundloveunderthelight @sailtoafarawayland @tiganasummertree @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @stahlop @superchocovian @snowbellewells @xellewoods @sals86 @karlyfr13s ​ @ouatpost ​ @skairipakomtrikru @lonelyspectator12  @anmylica   @alexa-fangirl-forever @inspiredbystardust @marcella2727 @paradiselady19 @koryandr

Let me know if you’d like to be added to/removed from my tag list!

[hyunverse]

MOOT GAME: " make up a trope for your moots and their biases. doesn’t need to be romantic. can be crackfic/funny/anything you want ^ㅇ(๑>◡<๑)ㅇ^ "

omg this is cool 😸☝️ thank u for sending this to me!!!

first of all, @mnwrld & hanji!!! gives off major college au music nerd #1 meets music nerd #2 together they meet and bond over making music together doing music nerd things while holding hands

@astraystayyh with hyunjin and make it forbidden love. 25k words MINIMUM. a lot of longing, pining, and crying together. it'd be gut-wrenching with a happy ending ☝️

@in2heartz & lee know. dare i say fake enemies... sprinkled with a there was only one bed trope. i see it tbh 😸☝️ they come out of the holiday as lovers i tell u!!!!

@forlix with lixie!!! neighbours trope 🤠 pov xian is the new tenant of the apartment and felix comes with a tray of cookies as a welcome gift... i see the vision and i like it!!!

@hwajin & hyune ofc 😋 i'm thinking... small town love... 💭 they met at a grocery store cs kathy was like hey haha get that cereal box from the top shelf for me pls then hyune falls in love this is canon and real

@facioleeknow & seungmin...💭 fake dating!!! seung's trying to get an ex girlfriend to be jealous but falls in love in the process 😔

lastly, @blondie-hyun with jeongin!!! something cute me thinks... 😋 i'm thinking the classic bumping into each other and having books fall EEEEEEK

[winterchimez]

MOOT GAME: " make up a trope for your moots and their biases. doesn’t need to be romantic. can be crackfic/funny. ^ㅇ(๑>◡<๑)ㅇ^ "

hi anon-ie!! yayyyy ok this is so fun imma just *rubs hands* cook up some scenarios 😋 (tagging the ones i talk to on a daily basis!! 💗)

@sungbeam acedemic rivals - theres something about you just being rivals with changmin and it gets on your nerve whenever he outperforms you but then all that bickering slowly turn into romance and thats something i will be watching from afar with my popcorn.

@from-izzy strangers to lovers - you and hyunjae (as much as i wanna mention the other guy but i won't bcs im trying to be nice 🥰) would meet as strangers on your first day of uni orientation, seemingly also ends up as deskmate in class and boom hes the goofy funny guy, always trying to get you involve in activities when you're just shy and reluctant and then the both of you start falling for each other

@daisyvisions best friends to lovers - we all know how much you love this, esp with hyunjae when yall be doing things that are pretty much obvious that's more than just friends 😏 so by the time yall end up together its more of a meh we've already done this before but then it gets awkward cs you're both now labelled as bf/gf

@aimeecarreros / @momhwa-agenda enemies to lovers - bcs of what you told me yesterday....but juyeon who's always teasing and bullying you...but then it's bcs he actually likes you sm but bcs of his ego he refuses to believe nor accept reality...but then it eventually hits him and hes confronted by you with a revenge dress and he goes oh. 😌

@snowflakewhispers mutual pining - realistically you and jacob would be having feelings for each other but then you both have your doubts (even though you don't look like it when you have beef with me everyday 🙄 HOWEVER it'll be cute but then the rest of us at the side will be all frustrated (aka me, daisy, elena) be like HE ALSO LIKES YOU BACK WTF but you're just "IDK MAN I DONT THINK HE WOULD"

@kimsohn unrequited love (but with a happy ending) - sunwoo's been head over heels over you since day one but you're always just ignoring his advnaces be like "this dude is hella weird", this goes on until one day you eventually see the other side of him, he makes you blush and he gets a high and giddy be like "okay confirmed maya likes me now i've won in life"

@justalildumpling rich kid au - ok i know it sounds cliché but hear me out!! na jaemin aka the rich boy from uni and he gets all the girls and naturally you fall for him too cs hell hes a fine-looking man but then maybe one day you are forced to live with him and thats when you see his true colours which makes you go ew, but then bcs of your personality you'll be like "i will change this man" (which you do) and he realises that you're not like the other girls out there

@ethereal-engene coffeshop au - you just give me calm sunshine vibes so!! you and woozi in the coffee shop, woozi as the barista (WHEW WITH A WHITE SHIRT- 😮‍💨) either you both work tgt as coworkers and eventually become a couple, or you would often visit the store not just for the good coffee but also for the good looking barista 👀

@drunkdrazed childhood friends to lovers - you're literally the sweetest human being so it would only be appropriate for this trope!! either with ten / jacob, you would fit so well 🥺 love the way how yall know literally anything abt each other and when yall reach uni / work and thats when you both realised that you're falling for one another instead 🫶

@h0mebody-heaven soulmate au - you're so funny and another ball of energy!! i can't imagine a better soulmate for hendery than you! lmao i can imagine all the chaos, the jokes that you both are gonna pull, probably asks you to film plenty of questionable tiktoks but then you oblige bcs YOLO 🤭

@strayed-quokka established relationship - do i need to say more, husband sangyeon and you're the housewife. you can replay that scenario in your mind.

@sanaxo-o arranged marriage - chanhee the rich son of dior's ceo ✨ but imagined getting pampered by him??? what a life it'll be 😮‍💨

[soov]

MOOT GAME: " make up a trope for your moots and their biases. doesn’t need to be romantic. can be crackfic/funny/anything you want

OMG OMG IM ACC SO HAPPY I LOVE THIS KIND OF ASKS (only doing some of my moots that i feel that fit these tropes 🙏 plus Yeah anon sorry..... i am not the best one w crackfics as u can see)

@isoobie : heeseung & strangers to lovers (hs bball au)

based on today’s heejay vid where jay says that hee fits the “treats everyone nicely but doesn’t know to talk to women” and heebot LMFAO imagining a hs au where he’s the popular basketball player who shares most classes with her, and has a crush on her. the whole school finds out about his crush and tries to get them together. it ends up with a bunch of students making a circle around them during lunch while heeseung sttuters and blushes the crap out of himself trying to confess, and ri accepts as equally as embarrassed cs who wouldnt 😆😆 the school’s it couple!!!!!!!

@voikiraz : sunghoon & small crochet business

mari w her lil crochet shop making the cutest bags and guess who liked them.... SUNGHOON!!! she packs his order very nicely (like she does to all cs shes the best business owner!!!!!!) but... it ends up arriving all messed up and basically destroyed. he sends her a kind dm in her shop’s insta about the order. when she checks his address, she notices they live in the same city and offers to give him a brand new bag personally. and when she arrives... love at first sight 😊 he’s def buying her whole shop and asking for delivery everytime just to see her!!

@boyfhee : jay & live jazz restaurant

why am i giggling js at the thought!! cael and jay would both go to a nice jazz restaurant every week and after some time of mutual pining, he gains enough courage and asks if he could pay her a drink!! they end up having such a good time together and after exchanging numbers, the next date gets set to jay’s house. and guess what 😂😂 private chef with meals even better than the restaurant’s, slow dances with a glass of wine in the kitchen, and jay playing his guitar after eating & having dessert OOHOHO

@haknom : juyeon & invisible string / dense and worse

Very Fitting!!!!!!! 😆😆 imagining a ton of those almost meeting moments w them like almost met each other at a convenience store, almost met at a morning stroll, almost met during a hangout with mutual friends... and in the end, they bump into each other accidentally someday. when they become friends it’s HELL because juyeon would be like Heyyy kayla 😏😏😅 and she wouldnt know hes flirting and same thing goes to him. they end up connecting the dots somehow and boom! couple 😂😂😂

@jongsie : nicholas & zombie apocalypse

HEHE THIS ONE WOULD BE SUCH A COOL DRAMA rav and nicho who aren’t really that fond of each other but a sudden zombie apocalypse forces them to work together. really angsty cs that’s what rav likes... one of them prob loses an arm or leg and dies in the end... the other suffers so bad!!! pure grief in its worst form. when the apocalypse ends the other digs a little hole in the place that they first met (and that was completely destroyed) and buries an item that one gave them before dying. (whoa i kinda ate with this one)

[urfavnegronerd]

percy jackson brain-rot as i begin the books again

as someone whos hopelessly devoted to the workings of rick riordon i absolutely never understood percabeth

like,

they're literally 12, children, CANNOT LEGALLY DRIVE OR CONSENT TO SEX at the end of the og series (chalice of the gods) and niggas really out here shipping the fuck outta them

shit dig hard enough on a03 and there's prolly smut of the two of em

never understood it, like i get a cute lil mutual pining thing where they both like each other but a whole ass ship never made sense. like no, the two don't make babies. why? CUZ THEYRE BABIES THEMSELVES

edit:

okay to clear things up cs people are in the comments saying i don't know what a ship is (i'm literally a fanfic writer on here but okay)

i'm just saying that these are literally little kids in middle school. i'm not saying that middle school kids don't have relationships, but it's still weird. and from, i'm boutta geek out about this incredibly obscure topic i'm sorry, a developmental standpoint middle grade children are nowhere near psychologically ready to be in a relationship which is why it's extremely rare to see couples who have been together since middle school (that one episode of abbott elementary). if you go on tiktok and look for people who broke up with someone they were in a relationship with from middle school- high school, those breakups are traumatic

all breakups are traumatic in some way, but there have been several people who have developed traits of borderline personality disorder because they broke up with someone they had been romantically involved with since middle school.

also let's not forget how warped your view on intimate relationships go (fucking. imma say it the way you think about fucking is skewed). the people i've spoken to who broke up with their middle school partner in their older parts of high school have recounted just how awful their view on sex was, some have even pondered if they were asexual because they couldn't picture themselves up under anyone else.

like i get it, it's cute to see little kids who like each other, but most of this fandom are of age to drive, to study for the SATS/gsces, some are able to legally drink in the united states, or applying to college. these are little baby children that high school students and young adults should not be playing match maker for. ALSO WALKER SCOBELL IS IN MIDDLE SCHOOL/ HIS FIRST YEAR IN HS HE WAS BORN IN 2009.

anyway,

i get it, we all have head canons, but shipping two middle schoolers who a) may or may not have started puberty b) did not stay at one school for too long c) don't know trig formulas d) may or may not have had their first period/ voice dropped/ you get the picture.

SO

i don't understand percabeth as a whole romantic ship, but mostly as a fluffy little middle school flirty thing (prolonged eye contact, stealing hats, asking if they can hug/kiss at a certain time, etc.)

i love love love the concept of seaweed brain and wise girl, smartwater, percabeth, whatever, I THINK THEY'RE ADORABLE but i don't understand the draw of why people feel the incessant need to make it extremely romantic. like why why whyyyyyyy. can we js let them be kids, because lets be real a lot of the newer additions to this fandom only know about the show (and its okay we love you guys anyway its just that some of us have read the books too, its not required for you to love the show that you need to read the books) and are already talking about 'annabeth and percy need to just kiss already' no they don't. cs percy just lost his mom (i know something you dooonttttttt) and our cutie patootie annabeth is still lowkey a mystery (i'm guessing?? idk i haven't watched the show yet i think im gonna pirate it soon or smth, im js assuming because idk what point the show is at in relation to the first book), etc. can we maybe not make them a whole ass ship until the show is in relation to the last few books of the series. lets js let them be kids for now.

AND THIS IS NOT TO SAY THAT I DIDN'T LIKE WHEN THEY WERE AN ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP IN THE LATER BOOKS OKAY ITS NOT TO SAY THAT im just saying that i didn't understand the concept of percabeth within the first few books because it was a little wonky to really really want two twelve year olds to be in a relationship. they're cute when its in the last few books but come on yall. lets not ship them yet. also report any smut you see of them that's not cool or rick riordon approved.

theyre still babies, even if some of the fandom has read all of the books and others didn't.

does this make sense?

xoxo,

rae <3