#hell even including ratings. like my brother in christ its there for a reason? its a different story if what you werent expecting

[crimsongrimoire]

happened to see this and i still can't believe people think this way for real. but then again they're all like 13 and don't really have any business on half that site anyway.

[comicbookhyperfixationtime]

Uncanny X-men #196- What Was That?!!

CW: racial slurs

Last Issue Recap: The Power Pack made a cameo and Wolverine did not disembowel a child. Callisto in the Morlocks did show up and they are as skrungly and terrible as ever. And then there was Secret Wars 2 which I have mentally blocked out of my brain because it's too pointless and annoying to take up important Nightcrawler Obsessing Space.

Anyway, HOLY HELL, how did this cover make it to print?! Its literally a woman in a gimp suit! Have I talked about Rachel's Mutant Hunter gimpsuit before? I feel like I have, but I would once again like to say, what the actual fuck.

It's Chris Claremont so I expect to be using this a lot in the near future. Also, in this cover there are spikes around her crotch that form a thong/triangle shape (super umcomfy 😬) which (spoilers) are not there when she wears the suit in-issue. Which just makes this worse.

Gimpsuit aside I don't like this cover. The composition is meh, and its the same sort of misdirection we saw in the last issue. Is Rachel going to beat the shit out of the X-men and get stabbed by Wolverine? Of course she's not. The splash panel on the first page is pretty striking though.

The title is uncreative, but I do adore when writers try to work their issue title into the first page's dialogue or onomatopoeia or something (Thor #366 is my absolute favorite example of this). This is a fantastic first page, not only does it immediately set up tension, mystery and stakes while quickly delivering exposition, but it cleverly uses the in-universe curtain behind Professor X as a tool for adding motion and energy, whilst directing the reader's eye around the page.

I half forgot that Professor X is actually a professor and that he didn't just make that title up to sound cool. Hell, since he has a PhD it should actually be Dr X but that sounds a little too much like a porn knockoff of Dr Strange for my and Marvel's liking. Jesus Christ I bet he's the sort of proff who never ever grades essays in time because he's too busy fucking off fighting Godlike entities in space. I'd give him a 2 on Rate My Professor so fast.

Several students in this packed classroom are smoking. Oh 1985, how the times have changed!

As his students leave, Professor X laments that he cannot simply read their minds and figure out who's thought this was. Not because this would be highly unethical, but because his mind and body has been weakened ever since he got the shit kicked out of him by anti-mutant muggers a few issues back.

Meanwhile, Storm is home in Africa on her self discovery tour, where she is- shot in the head and left for dead by the racist poachers she'd fought before?!

I know logically this is just a fakeout but I'll be damned if it isn't some good tension! Also; the racist poachers are a brother-sister pair named Andreas and Andrea. Their parents must have hated them even more than I do.

We immediately cut to Kitty talking about Ororo's letters at a team meeting just to hammer the stake further into my goddamn heart. The Gang has gathered in a deli to discuss Professor X's mystery, including Magneto (whose presence goes undiscussed, probably because it was explained in Secret Wars 2) and some blonde lady named Aleytys who I have no idea who she is. (Edit: I know who she is- Lee Forrester, Scott Summers ex-girlfriend who apparently hooked up with Magneto in New Mutants. What an absolute power move.) Something I haven't mentioned yet because it hasn't come up is that Chuck has been hiding his growing frailty and power loss from his friends and teammates for some reason I've forgotten but which is probably stupid. Also he can walk at this point in continuity but that's not important.

Rachel sees the Beyonder shows up for his editor mandated plot interruption for a few pages and I'm not going to discuss it because I Don't Care.

My thoughts exactly Kitty.

Speaking of the best boy, he is off at his parish, talking to the priest about his crisis of faith.

I cannot imagine what it must be like to go into confessional with a superhero he has heard some shit someone redraw this man in that one stock photo of the priest.

The monster Kurt is talking about his the Beyonder because goddamnit I guess I can't just ignore that motherfucker. TLDR, he was the ultra-powerful being who started the excuse plot for the original Secret Wars. In Secret Wars 2 he comes to Earth to learn the meaning of life or some bullshit and wanders around causing problems before turning himself into a baby (probably, idk I never finished it, Jim Shooter did that before so he'd probably do it again.) Kurt's faith has been completely destroyed by the Beyonder's sheer power which is like no being he's ever seen before- oh please.

This whole scene sort of pisses me off. First off, its more wanking off about the Beyonder and I really don't want to hear about this guy. Second, its another reason to leave Kurt out of this weeks plot and that pisses me off, give my boy more screentime! Third, this really doesn't feel justified by the Beyonder. Nightcrawler saw Dr Doom hand him his ass in Secret Wars, he knows he's not omnipotent. Nightcrawler having a breakdown is fine but there's way more interesting stuff for him to break down over.

Back on the main plot, a group of shadowy figures sneak into Professor X's office and plant a bomb under his desk! I see someone has been reading Hitchcock's quotes on suspense.

Rogue and Rachel are flying over Columbia U having a dramatic irony-laden conversation about how much less nasty this current timeline is than Rachel's home time whilst she mind-scans for the culprits. They don't find them, but they do find a mugging in progress and stop it.

I'll tell you what else is a crime, that hairdo! Yeesh.

It turns out the civilian they saved is a anti-mutant jackass who was grafitti-ing the words "Muties die!" when he got jumped, because Marvel civilians are assholes. Kitty and Wolvie take a quick break from crimefighting and have an conversation that's too cute for me not to share.

Kitty phases into a building because she sees a light on in a lab after hours. She finds some of her student acquaintances skulking about and, despite having doubts that any of them could be murderers, is immediately suspicious. I personally think the fact they ordered pizza with anchovies on it would be enough to peg them as supervillains on the spot, but Kitty is more of an optimist than me. The terrorists realize Kitty is a mutant and confront her about it.

Kitty Pryde just said the N-word. This isn't ok. I don't know how the editors at Marvel ever thought it was ok, and it speaks volumes that they did. "Mutie" isn't a real swear. "N-----" is. That word is hateful and terrible and affects real people and it is not ok at all to equate it to a made-up slur. The X-men are supposed to be an allegory for suffering that empowers minority groups. This just hurts them more. Hell no to all of this.

I took a hot minute to absorb what I just fucking read and then moved on with the issue. The terrorist kids get the jump on Kitty and chloroform her before she can phase out, with intent to kill her. Meanwhile, Magneto, Professor X and Rachel Summers are in the Prof's office, discussing the case and the Beyonder's continued presence because he's been stalking them like a weirdo. Rachel tries to psychically link the three so they can sense the Beyonder like she can, but using her psi-powers sets off the bomb, which is actually not a bomb but a "psi-scream," a device that amplifies and reflects psychic energy back to its source. This is a massive plot-hole; how did they know Xavier was psychic?! As far as I'm aware its not common knowledge Professor X is a mutant at all, let alone what his powers are! And these are just normal Columbia U college students with no connection to any supervillains or secret organizations whatsoever, there's no way they'd have access to this info!

The bomb overloads Rachel and she accidentally destroys the office, sending out a shockwave of energy that sends Professor X and Maggie flying. Rogue has to catch them both which I find sort of curious because its always so inconsistent whether Magneto can fly or not (my personal headcanon is that his costume has metal soles and he levitates them). Rachel senses Kitty's distress through their psychic link and freaks out so bad she manifests her BDSM Mutant Hunter costume. She flies over to the lab, explodes the anti-mutant students and rescues Kitty in a very hetero way.

Cannot imagine what goes on in Kitty Pryde's head. Must a beautiful and terrifying place to visit.

The guy in the pink jacket from before regains consciousness and tries to shoot Rachel, but its a bit like trying to stab a rhinoceros with a butter knife. She's about to kill him, when Magneto shows up to stop her from making the same mistakes he has.

I don't know bout you but if Magneto in a suit told me to do anything I'd drop whatever I was doing immediately. I love reformed Magneto, such a richer and more interesting character than racist whiny asshole villain Magneto. I sure hope Marvel lets him continue to grow as a person and don't constantly regress his character for the stake of a stupid status quo! Haha. I hate the Endless Wheel of Comic Book Samsara.

The conversation between Magneto and Rachel is honestly really beautiful. Two people who've never interacted before, but understand each other's pain better than anyone else can. Its a fantastic scene only slightly marred by the final panels being of the Beyonder observing the scene and giving some pointless, longwinded commentary. Its too long for me to screenshot and post here so I super recommend you check this out for yourself!

On the plus side, next issue is Dr Doom!

Final Thoughts: This issue had some really high highs and some really low lows. I'm honestly super shocked the panel of Kitty Pryde saying the N-word isn't more infamous than it is, because holy fuck that was awful.

[hopelikethemoon]

Settling (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: Settling  Rating: PG-13 Length: 2300 Warnings: Pinning  Notes: You can find the Maybe Today, Maybe Forever Timeline here. Set a few weeks before Old Parr in May 1989.  Summary: Reader joins Javier and Steve at the bar.

Taglist:  @grapemama​​  @seawhisperer​​ @huliabitch​​ @pedropascalito​​ @rogrsnbarnes​​ @thewallpapergoesorido​​ @twomoonstwosuns​​ @gooddaykate​​ @livasaurasrex​​ @ham4arrow​​ @hiscyarika​​ @plexflexico​​ @readsalot73​​ @hdlynn​​ @lokiaddicted​​ @randomness501​​ @fioccodineveautunnale​​  @roxypeanut​​ @just-add-butter​​ @snivellusim​ @amarvelousmandalorian​​ @lukesrighthand​ @historynerd04​ @mrsparknuts​ @synystersilenceinblacknwhite​ @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​ @exrebelshocktrooper​ @awesomefandomsunited​ @ah-callie​ @swhiskeys​ @lady-tano​ @beskar-droids​ @space-floozy @cable-kenobi​ @longitud-de-onda​ @cool-ultra-nerd​ @himbopoes​ @findhimfives​ @pedrosdoll​ @seeking-a-great--perhaps​ @frietiemeloen​ @arrowswithwifi​ @random066​ @uncomicalhumour​ @heather-lynn​ @domino-oh-damn​ @cyarikaaa​ @ahopelessromanticwritersworld​ @im-still-a-pieceofgarbage (if I forget to tag you, I’m sorry)

Tonight was supposed to be a date night with Lance. You had actually been looking forward to it. He was a decent cook and you always had a good time at his place. But by the time you got dressed up, you weren’t in the mood. It was the tailend of a workweek from hell and frankly, you just wanted to wind down with Steve and Javier. 

Lance didn’t even seem upset with you for canceling. He really was a great guy. So understanding. He’d make a great boyfriend for someone, someday. Shit. 

“Look at you,” Steve remarked as you came to a halt beside their table. “Is this how you dress when you’re not stuck with us?”

You rolled your eyes, “You’ve seen me in a dress before, asshole.” You set your gaze on Javier then, waving your hand at him, “Scoot.”

He complied, scooting towards the wall to give you space to sit down on the booth beside him. “Didn’t think we’d see you tonight.” 

“You weren’t supposed to,” You shrugged, drumming your fingers over the top of the table. “I was worried you’d be gone before I got here.” It was said to both of them, but your eyes lingered on Javier longer than necessary. 

“The night is young.” Javier said with a smirk as he knocked back a shot of whiskey. 

“Looks like I need to catch up.” You gestured to the whiskey, “I’ll be back.” You said as you slid out of the booth and headed to order drinks. 

You heard Steve say something about getting refills, before he followed after you, “Did Lance cancel on you?” He questioned as he leaned against the bar beside you. 

“I canceled on him.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” You shrugged your shoulders, tilting your head to look at him. “I just really wasn’t up for it.” 

“You could’ve invited him out for drinks with us.” Steve suggested. 

“Nah,” You shook your head. “We both know how Javi would’ve reacted to that. And I’m really not looking to sit through another pointed rant about the CIA. Even if I agree with him.” 

“Are you and Lance okay?” He questioned, rubbing at the back of his neck as he turned towards you. 

You chewed on the inside of your bottom lip. “We’re not not okay.” You hung your head. “I don’t know, Steve. Sometimes I feel like I could really love him. You know? I have this whole list of reasons why I should—“

“You have a list?” Steve shook his head as he chuckled. “Poor guy.” 

“Poor guy is right,” You made a face. “It’s been almost a year and I think… He’s a lot more serious about this than I am.” You glanced back over your shoulder at Javier who was still nursing a bottle of beer. You’d rather be here than over at Lance’s. And you should’ve felt guilty about that. “Can we not talk about this at the table? I don’t wanna hear it from Javier.”

“Of course.” Steve gave your arm a pat. “For what it’s worth, if you have a list of reasons for why you should love someone, do you really love them?”

You slowly shook your head, “Probably not. But he’s a good guy. We always have fun together. We work… well enough.” 

The bartender returned with the orders. 

“It’s just… I always thought it would feel different. You know?” Your eyes flickered back towards the booth, only to find it empty. 

“Forget I was here?” Javier remarked, causing your heart to skip a beat as he slung his arms over your shoulders and Steve’s.

“We can’t talk shit about you at the table.” Steve remarked, shaking his arm off. “The drinks just got here, jackass.”

His arm was still casually slung over your shoulders and you tried to ignore just how much you enjoyed it. “Were you really talking shit about me?” Javier questioned as he tapped on the bar and ordered two shots. 

“In a round about way.” You answered, your eyes following Steve as he retreated back to the booth. “See you back at the table.”

Javier caught your arm before you could escape. “This shot has your name on it.” He said, gesturing towards the bartender as he returned with two shots. “You said you wanted to catch up.”

Your tongue traced over your bottom lip, before you relented, sitting your beer back down on the bar as you turned towards him. “Fine.” You crossed your arm with his, before bringing the shot to your lips and knocking it back with a satisfied hiss.

Something about the way the muscles of Javier’s neck showed as he leaned back to drink the whiskey caught your attention. And you tried to ignore the line of thinking that had you picturing your lips trailing over that same skin. 

“So, where’s the suit?” Javier questioned, gesturing towards your dress. “Busy sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong?”

Something burned through you and it wasn’t just the whiskey. “Oh, fuck off Javier.” You snapped, turning on your heels and heading back for the booth.

You hadn’t considered the fact that entering the booth first meant Javier’s body would effectively cage you in. And he sat himself far too close to you as he rejoined you and Steve at the table. 

Not that you hadn’t done the same before. 

“Someone’s acting cagey about the CIA tonight.” Javier remarked lightly, giving you a pointed look.

“Drop it.” Steve said firmly, knocking his knuckles against the top of the table to get Javier’s attention. “Not tonight.” 

You brought your beer bottle to your lips, glancing towards Javi. You watched the way his shoulders tensed as he stared straight ahead at Steve with body language you couldn’t quite read. 

“Did you hear the director’s gonna be at the embassy this week?” Javier questioned, looking between you and Steve then.

“Yeah,” You nodded. “Heard he’s in the city to meet with Barco. Things are going to be heating up over the next couple of months.” You explained, rolling the base of the beer bottle against the table. 

“Escobar?” Steve questioned as he took a sip of beer.

You pressed your tongue to the inside of your cheek, giving a short shake of your head. “My sources think Gacha. He’s gone rogue the last couple months. Ever since news broke on the training camps, things have been tense.” 

Javier rocked his jaw thoughtfully, “Your guy’s on the inside, right?”

Your eyes darted around warily, always cautious of who was listening. But the bar was filled with the regulars, familiar faces you’d seen weekly for almost two years. “Yeah. Matias has connections to the Ochoa brothers.” You answered Javier, keeping your voice low. “If we don’t get Gacha first, the Cali Cartel will. There’s a feud there that we could exploit.” 

He clicked his tongue against his teeth as he nodded in agreement, “Does Lance know about Matias?”

You rubbed your lips together and stared down at your bottle of beer. 

“We didn’t come here to talk shop, Peña.” Murphy must’ve kicked him under the table because Javier jerked in his seat, his leg knocking against yours. “What are your plans for the weekend?”

“I finally got my hands on a copy of Queen of the Damned. Only eight months after its release.” You answered, offering Javier a faint smile. “Thanks, by the way.” 

Javier nudged you in the ribs, “Anytime, baby.” 

“How many shots ahead of me, are you?” You questioned, chewing on your bottom lip as you tilted your head to look at him. 

His brows furrowed, “Three. Including the one at the bar.” 

“Jesus Christ, Javi.” You shoved him playfully in the shoulder. “Go get me two.” 

Reluctantly he slid out of the booth, glancing back at you, before he headed for the bar. 

“Steve, I know I said I don’t want to discuss the Lance thing, but I can handle Javier being… Javier.” You knew he hated Lance, you were basically immune to his smartass comments at this point. “I appreciate the effort, though.” 

“We both know Javier can take things too far.” 

“I really don’t mind.” You looked towards the bar, watching as Javier laughed over something the bartender had said, before starting back towards the pair of you. “He means well.” You glanced back at Steve then, brows furrowed. “What’s that look for?”

He shook his head, chuckling. “Nothing.” 

You frowned, “Doesn’t look like a nothing look to me.” 

“Nah,” He waved his hand dismissively, before rubbing at the back of his neck. “So what’s the story with the book?”

“It’s been an absolute bitch trying to get non-essential shit through the embassy.” You explained, tapping the base of your bottle against the table, “I guess they don’t think Anne Rice is a need-to-have.” You rolled your eyes. “Anyways, I’d mentioned the issue to Javier and he managed to get his hands on a copy.” You sat up a little straighter as Javier returned with the shots. “Let Connie know she can borrow it when I’ve finished.”

“She loves that shit.” Steve agreed with a nod. “She’ll get a kick out of it.” 

You pushed your beer bottle aside as Javi returned, setting your sights on the two shots of whiskey. “You didn’t have more shots at the bar, did you?” 

Javier shook his head, “We’ll be even after this.” 

You downed both in succession, the glasses clinking against the table as you sat them back down heavily. You blinked, shuttering a little as you felt the warmth of the liquor fan out through you as it slid down your throat. 

“You good?” Javier snorted, trying not to laugh. 

“Are you good?” You countered, narrowing your eyes at him, before you looked back at Steve. “Why aren’t you doing shots?”

“I don’t mix.” He gestured to his bottle of beer. 

“Weak.” 

Steve shrugged, “Probably.” 

God, you were glad you’d decided to show up here, rather than going to Lance’s. You liked the guy, you really did… but you wouldn’t trade anything for this. With Steve and Javier you felt like you belonged. And that wasn’t a feeling you were intimately familiar with. 

And maybe in the long run you could love Lance, but you weren’t ready for your relationship to reach that stage. How could you love someone who was loathed by the person who meant the — by the people who meant the world to you. Both of them, not just Javier. 

You swallowed thickly as you rubbed your lips together. 

“What are you doing this weekend, Javier?” Steve questioned. 

Javier clicked his tongue against his teeth, dragging his fingers through his hair. “I’m working on a new informant.” 

Steve pursed his lips and nodded slowly, “Alright. So work?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged.

Your eyes followed the path his fingers took as they moved through his hair, unsticking the hair that was sticking against his forehead and behind his ears. You’d never noticed the bluish green mark behind his ear.

“When’d you get a tattoo?” You blurted out. 

“What?” Javier turned to look at you, brows furrowed.

“Your tattoo.” You reached out and brushed your fingers over the spot just behind his ear. “I’ve never noticed it before.”

“Shit,” He thought for a moment. “I think I was probably eighteen.” 

You rubbed your thumb over the spot, before you gently played your fingers through his hair there, savoring the soft texture of it beneath your fingertips. 

Steve cleared his throat, “You never noticed that before?”

You shook your head, “You know, Lance hates tattoos.”

“Figures.” Javier huffed, making no attempt to stop your fingers as you played them through his hair more freely. “I’ve got more if you’d ever like a private tour of them.”

“Maybe.” You said coyly, brushing your fingers down the back of his neck before you reached for your beer again. 

Steve looked between the two of you, before shaking his head slowly. “Not that anyone asked, but Connie and I are gonna drive out to Buenaventura. Spend the weekend near the water.” 

You and Javier both gave him a skeptical look. 

“That’s ten hours away, Murphy.” You pointed out. 

“So what?” Javi questioned. “You’re gonna drive ten hours just to stare at the water?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Connie’s missing Miami.” 

“Buenaventura is not Miami.” 

“The water.” Murphy insisted. “Look, we just need a getaway.” He leaned his elbows against the table, “Come to think of it, a getaway might do you and Lance some good.”

You caught the way Javier’s head turned, his eyes fixed on your face. “Trouble in paradise?”

“Nope.” You said shortly, bringing your beer bottle to your lips. You kept your gaze fixed straight ahead. “Everything is just fine.” 

He didn’t push it any further than that. 

Another round of beers made its way to the table along with another pair of shots for you and Javier to share. 

Why couldn’t it be this easy with Lance? You had fun with him, sure. But it never felt like this. And of course, it just had to be Javier. The last person in the world who would ever reciprocate anything outside of friendship.

And you were lucky you had that. 

You never imagined yourself as the type of woman to settle, but honestly? Lance wasn’t that bad. He was a good man, he was kind and smart and funny. Good at his job. He should’ve been everything and yet...You’d rather be alone and have this than be stuck with someone you had to convince yourself to love. 

Fuck. You were going to have to break up with Lance. And you were fairly certain he’d been slowly working towards popping the question with you. 

But it wasn’t fair to either of you to keep playing a game.

[dog-day-morning]

WHEN DOGS CRY

Ezekiel 3:1-4

3 Moreover he said unto me, Son of man, eat that thou findest; eat this roll, and go speak unto the house of Israel.

2 So I opened my mouth, and he caused me to eat that roll.

3 And he said unto me, Son of man, cause thy belly to eat, and fill thy bowels with this roll that I give thee. Then did I eat it; and it was in my mouth as honey for sweetness.

4 And he said unto me, Son of man, go, get thee unto the house of Israel, and speak with my words unto them.

The children of God thirst for the word of God, but there's a drought in the land for the Devil comes to steal that word from you. Behold, the days come, saith the Lord God, that I will send a famine in the land, not a famine of bread, nor a thirst for water, but of hearing the words of the Lord: And they shall wander from sea to sea, and from the north even to the east, they shall run to and fro to seek the word of the Lord, and shall not find it. We are a rebellious house who have walked in the ways of sin forgetting the will of God. The Father was the same today as He was yesterday. Our temperament, and faith can change with the current of the wind or something we may perceive as being better than the Father’s love which is what Satan wants you to believe. When Yeshua fasted for 40 days and nights Lucifer came to Him while He was weakened thinking He could get the Son of God to forsake everything for his deception.

Luke 4:6-8

6 And the devil said unto him, All this power will I give thee, and the glory of them: for that is delivered unto me; and to whomsoever I will I give it.

7 If thou therefore wilt worship me, all shall be thine.

8 And Jesus answered and said unto him, Get thee behind me, Satan: for it is written, Thou shalt worship the Lord thy God, and him only shalt thou serve.

How can you give me something you never owned? Derek Chauvin is appealing his court conviction without a lawyer, and no money. This is Satan’s downcast people, the wicked kingdom of Babylon that's falling apart in front of the whole world. Satan has no kingdom, we’re taking back everything they've taken from us including our dead, and slaughtered children. The drought will end with a Jubilee celebration of God's people who have been without, and the curses shall fall upon those who have persecuted us from the beginning. If you thirst your souls will be quenched by the waters of God, His Spirit that will enable the downtrodden to overcome and overwhelm ourselves including our enemies, the inner me; YOU!!! Satan will not go down without a fight, he's unrighteous, salty, and afraid of the judgment that's coming to this earth that will consume our open enemy without us having to lift a finger.

The dead in hell shall be given back to the Lord of host that is the army of Israel who will fight the enemies of Israel as we have been a homeborn slave to all of the Earth. We have bowed down as a broken people to all men with no one to care for our plight save our Lord. To see people defend the institution of WS is a cancer to your spiritual process that needs to be fixed before the Day of Judgment comes to claim those who are puffed up before the Lord. The missing white woman syndrome is a frustrating reality we witness throughout the year. People should be concerned about their missing loved ones, but you must realize who are the one’s going missing at an alarming rate. Becky, and Mai Ling do not have more precedent over Tanisha, or Quantasia yet they are the ones the public is asked to search for more than a Black child or woman. Asian nail salons that partake in sex trafficking on the sly use Black women as well as Asians against their will to facilitate their male, and female patrons. There are no Happy Endings for these women and children. God loved Israel when we were without fault, and could do no wrong before Him while the rest of the world compounds, and exacerbates our issues. If he didn't love us He wouldn't reprove or chastise us. In order to reign with Christ you will suffer with Christ. We suffered at the hands of our Egyptian Brothers including Esau while Esau revised the world’s history to favor him which is an abominable sin. We were children who sucked milk from our mother’s teets. Now the Lord has been feeding us meat to strengthen our spirit for what lays ahead .

Ezekiel 16:4-13

4 And as for thy nativity, in the day thou wast born thy navel was not cut, neither wast thou washed in water to supple thee; thou wast not salted at all, nor swaddled at all.

5 None eye pitied thee, to do any of these unto thee, to have compassion upon thee; but thou wast cast out in the open field, to the lothing of thy person, in the day that thou wast born.

6 And when I passed by thee, and saw thee polluted in thine own blood, I said unto thee when thou wast in thy blood, Live; yea, I said unto thee when thou wast in thy blood, Live.

7 I have caused thee to multiply as the bud of the field, and thou hast increased and waxen great, and thou art come to excellent ornaments: thy breasts are fashioned, and thine hair is grown, whereas thou wast naked and bare.

8 Now when I passed by thee, and looked upon thee, behold, thy time was the time of love; and I spread my skirt over thee, and covered thy nakedness: yea, I sware unto thee, and entered into a covenant with thee, saith the Lord God, and thou becamest mine.

9 Then washed I thee with water; yea, I throughly washed away thy blood from thee, and I anointed thee with oil.

10 I clothed thee also with broidered work, and shod thee with badgers' skin, and I girded thee about with fine linen, and I covered thee with silk.

11 I decked thee also with ornaments, and I put bracelets upon thy hands, and a chain on thy neck.

12 And I put a jewel on thy forehead, and earrings in thine ears, and a beautiful crown upon thine head.

13 Thus wast thou decked with gold and silver; and thy raiment was of fine linen, and silk, and broidered work; thou didst eat fine flour, and honey, and oil: and thou wast exceeding beautiful, and thou didst prosper into a kingdom.

He said thou wast exceeding beautiful. For every woman who looks at the European standard of po, broke, and boney as a standard of beauty don't. Love your thick lips which they pay thousands of dollars a year to get, and maintain. Breathe through your flaring nostrils that the Father gave unto you in order to run, and never grow weary. Love your wide curvaceous hips, big thighs, and thick, lovely hind they pay a Dr. in Atlanta tens of thousands of dollars every so many years to look like Shantell from the hood who was blessed in the womb with a body they get augmented in order to try and look like hers, and by all means if you're deeply melinated with dark skin do not bleach your blessing. Melanin Is responsible for our higher intelligence, those hips, and that beautiful derriere, your brother's athletic prowess, the ability to endure the hell we've endured for these hellish 500yrs. You don't have to be darkly melinated to succeed in the world of athletics or academia. Florence Joyner Griffith set a record in the 1988 Olympics that still stands today. Katherine Johnson helped pave the way for the first American astronaut to successfully orbit the Earth. Melanin is called the God particle for a reason, it can't be duplicated or created in a lab. Thanks to cloning they can produce this element close to its essential form, but not to God’s precise design. Men have been trying to manipulate God's works through science without considering that He is Spirit. I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me. They're trying to circumvent the Father’s work carnally, that's' the crux of the problem. I said all of this to say this. They have used us like lab rats from the Tuskegee Experiment, back to days of slavery when they experimented, and operated on Black women without using anesthesia, to this day with this COVID-19, catastrophic, doomsday annihilation that got out of control, and became a global pandemic that was only supposed to affect the African Diaspora. The Chinese are first cousins to Esau. They are descendants of Japheth along with the Canaanites including the other tribes of the Earth whom Israel has blessed. I may be beating a dead horse so shoot me. This is what's coming down the pipes after God has had enough of the blood shedding of His people.

Revelation 6:10-11

10 And they cried with a loud voice, saying, How long, O Lord, holy and true, dost thou not judge and avenge our blood on them that dwell on the earth?

11 And white robes were given unto every one of them; and it was said unto them, that they should rest yet for a little season, until their fellowservants also and their brethren, that should be killed as they were, should be fulfilled.

Those of us who have been slain, and suffered on this Earth who had a relationship with Christ will receive a robe of white. People are still going to hell like the police, neo Nazis, klansmen, KKKARENS, KKKENS, your 10yr old nephew Man Man. All of those who hate, and persecute Israel and our kinsman. After God has seen enough of this world's abuse of His children, that's when you'll see the miracles, signs, and wonders that will scare the junk out of everyone's pants, skid marks and all. There will not be a zombie apocalypse. What will happen is a Nightmare on Everywhere Street. This is the war they asked for.

Zechariah 14:12-14

12 And this shall be the plague wherewith the Lord will smite all the people that have fought against Jerusalem; Their flesh shall consume away while they stand upon their feet, and their eyes shall consume away in their holes, and their tongue shall consume away in their mouth.

13 And it shall come to pass in that day, that a great tumult from the Lord shall be among them; and they shall lay hold every one on the hand of his neighbour, and his hand shall rise up against the hand of his neighbour.

14 And Judah also shall fight at Jerusalem; and the wealth of all the heathen round about shall be gathered together, gold, and silver, and apparel, in great abundance.

The Mark of the Beast. We will spoil them by taking everything they've stolen from us globally. The colonization of Alkebulan is almost over and you have to believe these truths. The West, and the Far East have colonized the continent, whoring it out for its resources giving nothing back in return except paper, ink, and dust. I don't ascribe to the faith or religious doctrine of the Sabeans (Muslims) that came from the Bible of the Hebrews. The Israelites took nothing from the Quran, it didn't exist. My skepticism makes me suspicious of the biblical scholars who claim that Yeshua went to the Far East (Asia) while on Earth to study which is a misnomer in itself, He's all knowing. He may have journeyed there, but He said I come for my people Israel, and told His Apostles to minister to them only before His final ascension. I'm not trustworthy of those who are inclined to lie about everything including the world's history that is Black history. The Bible has hundreds of books that were purposely left out of the original 66 books that revealed more truths about God's people that are in the libraries of the Vatican. They will be revealed before or after Vatican city is decimated by the Father. The truths we seek will not come from a book exclusively interpreted by men, people lie. It will come from the Lord’s Spirit. Satan's time is up, and he's trying the saints who suffer not because of his torment, but for the testimony of Christ. We have been chosen by God to lead those who have deceived the world through clever deception and manipulation. Our souls are consumed with many insecurities that were intentionally placed in our spirit by men who understood how feared we were in the Old Testament because of the anointing. They have oppressed, and suppressed our powerful anointing before the Earth with a tactical methodology that if it wasn't for the Lord it would've consumed us before man. The word of God does not separate us from the love of God, it embraces, and keeps us safe with the blood covering of His Son.

Hebrews 4:12

12 For the word of God is quick, and powerful, and sharper than any twoedged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart.

Those who rebuked the word of God will have to answer to the Lord on the Day of Judgment. People in the last days are walking away from God's will like stubborn goats. Satan will lead you away from God blindly before those who'd rather believe in a lie to foster confusion, and a selfish mentality that's unhealthy for your soul. Israel. You are blessed by the Father to overcome, forgive, show a selflessness that others do not, giving of your sustenance to bless another, sacrificing for a greater cause that's greater than oneself. I tell you things that are written in the Bible you refuse to discern or cannot determine that are coming upon us. They are meant for this day, this hour, at this time. God will lead us out of the darkness into His marvelous light. Do not don't forget that this is Tribulation. Be prepared for calamities to hit us back, to back, to back, harder, and worse than the previous as a warning He's coming for His faithful. No man can judge himself worthy of the Kingdome. Pray for one another with a fervency. This will be the day of reckoning for the unrighteous who have sought innocent blood, and the provision God set aside for His children. This battle shall be fought by the Father’s host army that is not Christian?!! I worship in the Christian faith, but I desire to know the truth. I, and many of you are in search of the Lord's truths that we’ll find in the appointed season which is coming, but this battle is the Lord’s

Ezekiel 37:7-10

7 So I prophesied as I was commanded: and as I prophesied, there was a noise, and behold a shaking, and the bones came together, bone to his bone.

8 And when I beheld, lo, the sinews and the flesh came up upon them, and the skin covered them above: but there was no breath in them.

9 Then said he unto me, Prophesy unto the wind, prophesy, son of man, and say to the wind, Thus saith the Lord God; Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe upon these slain, that they may live.

10 So I prophesied as he commanded me, and the breath came into them, and they lived, and stood up upon their feet, an exceeding great army.

It amazes me that people still don't believe after what we've witnessed the last 40 or so years. Maybe it’s somewhat my fault. The Father works in mysterious ways. Man's flesh will melt inside of his loins, he will tremble in fear, and faint after witnessing hell on Earth; God's wrath. I’ll see you when I can breathe. Good evening, Elohim. 9/26/2021

[camillemontespan]

mind over matter [interview with drake walker]

I am rolling about laughing at my attempt to make a magazine cover for Drake. God bless Hugh Jackman as a body claim. Bahahaha. 

On a serious note, this covers mental health. I’m not sure how many of my followers suffer from anxiety, depression and everything in between, but I was thinking about writing something different about Drake and it occurred to me that yeah, maybe he could have suffered from depression at some stage in his life. 

This piece is inspired by a time when I was with my male friends, we had been drinking and they all got really emotional and started talking about how they were actually feeling and Jesus Christ I didn’t realise how sad they all were. Because they don’t talk about it normally.  It took alcohol to get them to open up. So, this has shaped this ‘interview’ with Drake.  Just something a bit different.  This is part serious, part fluff. 

@pug-bitch @jovialyouthmusic @moonlightgem7 @sirbeepsalot  @drakesensworld @iplaydrake @dcbbw @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore @ifyouseekheart @carabeth @notoriouscs 

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I am sat outside overlooking the mountains of Valtoria, waiting patiently for the Duke of Valtoria to arrive. I've managed to secure an interview with the notoriously private Drake Walker and honestly, I have no idea what to expect. He often looks serious in paparazzi pictures. He's been known to grumble and not exactly offer a winning smile. I've heard he is fiercely protective of his wife and their daughter and I have also heard that he hates the press. Great news for me.

'Hey there!'

I look around and see the man himself coming out onto the terrace holding two glasses of water. He hands me one and settles down opposite me. 'Sorry for the delay, I was trying to settle Lily down to watch a Disney film.'

He looks.. happy. Smiley. He has a kind face which is a complete contrast to the paparazzi shots that everyone is used to. Drake Walker  is wearing jeans, a red Henley shirt and brown boots.  Broad shouldered, with a wide chest span and veins that stick out of his arms, he is rugged and handsome, which I think is the reason why so many nobles and commoners alike were laughing when he was named the new Duke of Valtoria. He doesn’t look like a typical Duke but I get the feeling that suits him just fine. 

I'm here interviewing him today because he has launched a campaign to promote men's mental heath, which has been named Mind Over Matter. When he first announced the campaign, which centers around men in Cordonia meeting up - Drake included - to go trekking up mountains, kayaking, abseiling, it was dismissed as just an excuse for men to get outdoors and away from family life - Cordonia is very traditional and some might say stuck in the past with emphasis on family and structure, but with King Liam and the Duke of Valtoria at the helm, its becoming thoroughly more modern. That includes encouraging men with depression, anxiety and all mental health issues in between, to get together.

'It's a safe space for men to open up while still enjoying themselves. It's not like therapy where you're stuck in a room talking for 60 minutes about feelings. This is different. While we are trekking up mountains, we talk openly. You forget that it's therapy. It's very freeing. Anyone can sign up and it pushes you to confront your emotions. When you abseil down a cliff side, you feel such adrenaline, like you can do anything. You have to place your initial fears in a box, unpack it then jump off the edge.  It’s a symbol and also literally what we do. It's mind over matter.'

The press have wondered what Drake actually knows about mental health. He sighs, clearly used to this question. 'I had depression when I was younger,' he says. 'My dad had died, my sister left, my mother abandoned me and I was left in the palace with no actual role or identity. I was only known as the prince's friend and honestly I felt I had lost who I was. I had no family and I felt very, very alone. I built up these walls and never let anyone in. I tried to protect myself in the worst way.'

I ask how he got out of it. He smiles sadly. 'I still have my dark days,' he admits. 'days where I think I don't deserve this life, this role, this family. I used to rely on whiskey, I used it as a crutch.  I still drink whiskey but definitley not at the rate I was drinking it two years ago. Anytime I felt a hint of doubt or anxiety, I would block it out with drink. It was a dark period. I'm better now but I do still struggle. I try my best to pull myself back from that, you know? I have to. I have to for my girls.'

His girls are his wife, Duchess Camille, and their four year old daughter Lily. He married Camille, a New Yorker, four years ago and their daughter followed soon after. The Duke and Duchess have proven to be a breath of fresh air for Valtoria, in that they host an Open House every month for their citizens to meet them to discuss issues. They are young and eager to make a difference, which is in stark contrast to other dukes and duchesses who don't seem to do much for their duchies.

I ask if Camille has helped him with his mental health. 'Definitely,' he answers instantly. 'It's weird, on paper, we shouldn't work as a couple. I can be grumpy, pessimistic, sometimes even rude. A dark cloud on the horizon. But she is all sunshine and positivity. God, the amount of times she's been talking to her girlfriends who are having a crisis and she's like, 'Right come to mine, I’ll get the bottle of wine and we'll just unpack everything you're feeling and talk.' Everyone needs a person like Camille in their corner. I'm lucky I have the genuine article.'

Does she encourage you to talk? 'All the time. She broke down my walls and if she sees me going to a dark place, she tells me she is there and I end up just telling her everything. She's really supportive.'

Has family life changed him? 'Definitely,' he answers, blushing. 'I didn't realise how overprotective I can be. I never visualised myself ever sat down with a child - my own child - watching Peppa Pig but hey, it happened. I know all the kids TV shows now, I know the theme songs. Baby Shark literally plays in my head when I’m trying to get to sleep, its so annoying.. '

Drake is notorious for being overprotective. He went to court to ask for a restraining order against the press when Camille was pregnant, as they kept hounding her. He has ensured that paparazzi are not allowed within 8 feet of his daughter, after photographs emerged of Lily playing in the playground. 'That was a complete violation of her privacy,' he says quietly. 'I was sick to my stomach when those pictures were published. We're trying to bring Lily up as normally as possible and when she sees herself on the front of newspapers, she does get confused because she isn't aware of how well known she is.' He sued the newspaper who printed the images and now if the family are photographed in public, pixels are placed over Lily's face.

Basically, you don't mess with family man Drake Walker.

'I like to think most fathers in my position would do that,' he tells me. 'There's nothing I wouldn't do to protect my family.'

We are interrupted by a small, dark haired girl with big brown eyes. It's Lily. She is wearing a pretty red summer dress embroidered with flowers. 'Daddy, I miss you,' she says quietly.

Drake chuckles. 'Do you mind?' he asks me. I smile and watch as Drake lifts her up onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her and resting his chin on the top of her head.

I bring the conversation back to his campaign. 'The King is involved, as is his brother. Leo loves outdoor things, he's been travelling everywhere. Give him a mountain to climb and he'll happily do it.' Drake is grinning now, his eyes lit up. Lily snuggles into her father and looks at me warily with those big eyes. She is very delicate and pretty, I must say.

I ask if he has raised money for the campaign so far. He nods enthusiastically. 'So far, 2000 euro and the campaign was only announced last week. Many people have donated and the money is going to be split and given to Cordonian charities who advocate mental health support. You can donate when you see what events we have planned. We’re planning to vlog the things we do, not everything, but say if we’re going to go kayaking, we’ll vlog it on the official website and people can watch and donate. It's a big deal.'

I suggest he creates his own charity. Drake smiles. 'Maybe in the future - ow, Lily, did you just bite me?'

He looks down at Lily who is smirking. She actually has his smirk. Drake holds out his thumb to me. 'My daughter bit me for no reason!'

He nudges her playfully then says seriously, 'What have I told you before?'

Lily sighs. 'Biting is bad..'

'Thank you. Let's remember that from now on, shall we?'

He still pulls her in close and gives her a hug. It's obvious he is wrapped around her little finger.

'Who's the bad cop and good cop between you and Camille?' I ask him, gesturing to Lily. Drake laughs. 'Camille is 100% bad cop. Poor woman. She's so lovely but she always adopts the bad cop role. She complains about why she always ends up as the bad cop and I tell her, ‘Babe, you actively put yourself into that role!’ I'm the good cop. I'm a cool fun dad, huh Lily?'

Lily giggles. Drake winks at me. 'She definitely agrees.' I melt.

'I do tell her off though,' Drake continues. 'I don't want her to be a brat. No, if she does something wrong, I will pull her up on it. It's just Camille is the one who tends to take away Peppa Pig privileges.'

'How do you maintain a normal family life when you've got this world of titles and nobility?'

Drake considers the question. 'You just have to stay grounded and remember where you came from. I think everyone assumed that as soon as Camille and I were made Duke and Duchess, we would become tyrants! No way in hell was that gonna happen,' he chuckles. 'Honestly, we're pretty chill. We have a small household of staff and we have assistants to help with our diaries, but really, we do try our best to just be Drake and Camille. We treat it like a working day. So from 9-5, we're noble, we’re the Duke and Duchess of Valtora. From 5pm onwards, we are ourselves. Camille gets changed out of her usual Duchess outfits and into jeans and an oversized sweater. If the cook has made dinner, she leaves it in the kitchen for us to help ourselves. We are very self sufficient though, I hate the fact we actually have a cook but sometimes it gets so hectic, you need that sort of privilege. In the evening, Camille and I sit out on our balcony, me with a glass of whiskey, Camille with a glass of sauvignon blanc, and we just laugh and talk.'

Do you do normal couple things, I ask. He stares at me, dumbfounded. ‘Well, yeah. We’re a normal couple, of course we do!’ 

I can’t visualise them on date nights or watching box sets. Drake laughs, a deep hearty laugh that is so unexpected. ‘Oh god, we love a box set. We’re re-watching Stranger Things at the moment before the new series starts again.’

‘You watch Stranger Things!’ I exclaim and Drake nods. ‘Yeah! We love that show! Camille adores Will, he’s like her TV baby.. ‘ I try to imagine the two of them sat on the sofa watching the show. It’s hard to see.  Drake continues.  ‘It’s hard to watch anything during the day though, Lily commands the TV when she’s home from nursery. She’s obsessed with The Greatest Showman right now, constantly sings the songs and has the album on repeat. She wants to have her own circus.’

He looks down at Lily and his face softens. 'We want to be normal parents for Lily. We don't have nannies, we are not going to send her to a boarding school when she's older and she was not born with a silver spoon in her mouth. Yeah, she was born into privilege but I really want her to grow up aware of the world. You see so many kids who think chauffeur driven cars and fancy houses are the norm. I want her to be a child first, daughter of a Duke and Duchess second.'

Drake is originally from Texas while Camille is New York born and bred. Do the family visit the States often? Drake nods. 'We've got a brownstone in New York and we see my mom every summer. Texas is really important to us.'

Drake and Camille got married at the Walker ranch in Texas and although the press wasn't allowed, a photograph was released, with Drake and Camille's permission. It showed the newlyweds at their first dance and Drake has dipped Camille down near the floor and kissing her. It's a candid, beautiful moment that was caught on camera forever and published on the front page of The Valtorian Herald. 'We allowed that photo to be released because we wanted our duchy to see us as actual humans, not these stuffy nobles. It was kind of like an introduction to us.'

It is clear that Drake isn't comfortable with being a Duke. Not that he doesn't like the role, he stresses, 'with my position, I can use my platform to reach out to people about things that matter and they will listen,' but the fancy title and the trappings that come with that don't seem to sit right with him. I've interviewed many dukes in the past who show me their yachts and horses, keen to show a life that I could only dream of. Drake doesn't do that. ' I'm not materialistic in the slightest,' he admits. 'I would be happy living in a cabin in the woods with my wife and daughter if given the chance. Hell, maybe one day..'

His wishful thinking could come across as ungrateful, except the way his eyes light up when he talks about living in cabins and being outdoors actually makes you smile. He may be a Duke by name but underneath, he is still Drake Walker.

I ask him where Camille is today. He smiles proudly at the mention of her name. 'She's visiting the children's hospital this morning. She adores children, honestly.'

I joke that maybe she is planning to add to their small family. Drake smiles bashfully and holds Lily a little closer. 'She wants a whole brood,' he says. 'Maybe soon, who knows..'

He looks like he's gone into a daydream so I clear my throat to bring him back to earth. He turns red and runs a hand through his hair. 'Sorry!'

Lily clambers off his lap, repeating the word 'cookie...' Drake stops her. 'Have you finished your breakfast?'

She nods. Drake raises an eyebrow before saying, 'Fine.' Lily beams and runs back into the manor. I ask Drake if the King will be climbing mountains for the mental health campaign. Drake nods, amused. 

‘All the guys I know are getting involved. I've even got the Beaumont brothers taking part. Maxwell has told me he's packing every kind of snack he can fit into his rucksack and Bertrand.. Oh god, Bertrand.. I imagine he will be like an army captain shouting orders and telling us we've had enough rest. Or, he will be a baby and crawl up the mountain.  There will be no in between with Betrand. Leo and I have a bet on to see how long he lasts.' He chuckles, showing he's just teasing the Duke of Ramsford.

They are a close knit group. Many paparazzi shots have been taken of Camille and her friend Hana Lee walking down the street grabbing coffee to go. Maxwell Beaumont has an Instagram account which boasts 1 million followers, which shows images of his everyday life - Drake and Camille are rarely in his photos as the couple are so private, but Maxwell does occasionally post photos of Drake and Camille when they are attending royal events, captioning them with descriptions such as 'I LOVE Camille's dress here!' or, the photo that went viral a year ago showing Camille talking to the King and Drake was just looking at her with a dopey smile on his face. Maxwell captioned it, 'THE FEEEEEEELS!!' and the photo was posted everywhere. Drake groans. 'It trended on Twitter. It became a meme. Memes saying: Find a guy who looks at you like Drake looks at Camille.' Camille was laughing so much, she thought it was sweet.'

I assume Drake doesn't like to show off his tender side. He stiffens and bites his lip. 'I only really show that side of myself to my wife. That's what I need to work on and try keep my walls down. That's why I need this mental health campaign too, to show me its also okay to be open and it's okay to talk about feelings. Men are taught that they have to be macho all the time and it's unhealthy. It needs to change and men need to talk about how they feel otherwise they will feel alone and that's why suicide rates in young men are so high at the moment. I hope I can change this and also learn from it myself.’ 

We are interrupted by the appearance of Lily again. She comes out onto the terrace holding out three cookies. She hands me one shyly then gives one to Drake, before climbing back onto his lap. Drake grins at me. 

‘See, my daughter may bite people but at least she’s got manners and gifts you cookies.’ 

He brings her into a bear hug and I decide to wrap up the interview there. He stands up to give me a hug and I try my best not  to inhale his woody, masculine smell. He walks me back to my car. ‘Thank you for interviewing me,’ he says. ‘I don’t usually have interviews but since Mind Over Matter was launched, I want to get it out there. So thanks.’ He shoots me a bashful smile and waves me off as I pull away from the drive. 

As this issue goes to print, Drake has raised a further 4000 euro and the group of men signed up to the campaign has doubled in size. Maxwell Beaumont videos the group as they hike up mountains, kayak down rivers, abseil and build campfires. Drake is in the middle of it all, getting stuck in and talking about his mental health. He looks at peace and you can tell he is in his element. This is the Duke of Valtoria but more importantly, this is Drake Walker. 

[seriouslyhooked]

Scoring Your Love (Part 10/?)

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six,Part Seven, Part Eight. Story also on FF here and AO3 here. Banner by the wonderful @timetravelandfairytales

Modern AU where Killian is a world famous soccer star who has hit rock bottom and been sentenced to the place where ‘football’ legends go to die – America. While here he crosses paths with Emma, an up and coming musician and film scorer who challenges everything he thought he knew and makes him want more than the game he’s always loved. Will be filled with fluff for days, and eventually rated M.

A/N: Hello again, friends! So as promised we finally get to the M rating in this chapter, but we also get another important check in before then. I mean come on, you didn’t think I was just going to forget about Liam, did you? Well he’ll make an appearance of sorts in this chapter, and though we’ll end in my usual fluffy place, we’re sowing some seeds of intrigue for later. Hope you all enjoy and thanks so much for reading!

In all his years playing in the professional leagues, Killian had managed the intensity and the strange schedules of a sportsman’s life better than most of his fellow teammates.

To be sure there were some more destructive habits he had formed, drinking a bit too much, surrounding himself with the kind of people who were interested just in the fame and the fortune, but on the whole he hadn’t fallen victim to the same bad moods that most other men did. Leaving home for so long and being apart from family took a toll on anybody, but Killian had never felt he was leaving too much behind. Since it was only ever Liam who he had as a given in his life, and since his brother was also his manager and as such was on the road with him more often than not, Killian didn’t feel the weight of separation.

Now, however, things were changing. One might argue it was because he was on the American circuit and his new games weren’t in enthralling places like Paris or Milan, but in small suburbs outside cities he’d never thought to see. Yet Killian knew that the real reason for the change was simpler than that. The problem was home – or rather Los Angeles – had a certain person in residence who did not get to come on these trips with him, and the more he got to know Emma Swan, the harder it was to take these jaunts out on the road for the sake of a game. It was likely crazy to feel this way, but Killian wouldn’t lie to himself. He missed Emma when he was gone, and finally he understood all that regret other more settled teammates had been feeling all these years.

It was of great comfort to him then that tonight he was back at his place in LA once more. Minutes ago he’d said goodbye to Tiny down stairs and now Killian was filled with anticipation and a need to get things going. He could do with a shower straight away, and food would probably be a good thing this time of night when he’d had none so far, but any unpacking could wait until morning. Right now Killian was hoping to speed things up as much as he could to get to Emma. He pulled out his phone and started to craft a text seeing if she was still up. It wasn’t too late yet, and he knew from their conversations this morning that she didn’t have any early morning commitments tomorrow, but he’d hate to call and disturb her if her plans had changed. Unfortunately just as he was about to press send on the text, a call came in disrupting him. A picture of his brother and Liam’s name appeared on the screen and Killian groaned at the interruption, but decided to answer in the hopes of conducting a speedy conversation.

“Liam, I’m sorry I haven’t checked in the past few days, but I’m actually just -,”

“You’re not seriously blowing me off are you, Killian?” his brother asked from where he was half a world away, and though to others it might sound a bit standoffish, Killian could sense his brother was actually in good humor. He could envision the smirk Liam had going there across the pond, and he was glad things had started to calm between them since Killian was first shipped off to the states. “It’s been a whole week at this point.”

“Aye, it’s bad form to be dodging my manager, I know,” Killian agreed.

“Ha! Your manager – I’m your brother first Killian, as you well know. Question is, what’s got you so busy. You’re ‘on a roll’ as they say over there. Stats are looking good and there’s still a buzz about you over here. But are the States so entirely exhausting that you can’t call your family?”

“Not quite,” Killian said with a smile of his own as he looked about his apartment figuring he could kill two birds with one stone. He could straighten up a bit on the off chance Emma could come here later and also touch base with his brother.

“So what is it then?” Liam asked and Killian hesitated, not because he had any shame over his relationship with Emma. On the contrary, he was thrilled that the two of them were progressing as they were. Instead his worry came from Liam’s potential reaction, and that worry was proved of merit when Liam spoke again. “Oh for fuck’s sake, tell me it’s not some woman.”

“Liam -,” Killian wanted to immediately correct his brother’s resentfulness and assure him Emma was different and unlike anyone he’d known before, but he didn’t have the chance with Liam fully blowing up at the realization.

“God, I knew this ‘new leaf’ was too good to be true! Here I am campaigning for you, working my arse off to get your image back where it needs to be for a proper team return, and you’re shagging some random American woman and throwing it all away!”

“I’m not throwing anything away. And she’s not just some woman,” Killian growled back, his hand balling into a fist and his body tightening in anger at his brother’s harsh iterations.

“Oh I bet. If you’ve glommed on to her she’s bound to be a total disaster,” Liam said haughtily. “Let me guess: she’s a great lay right? But with her sexual abilities there’s always some kind of rubbish. My bet its either a fully-stunted personality or some sort of fucked up gold-digging ambitions. Am I right?”

“No you aren’t bloody right, and I’m telling you Liam if you don’t stop talking about Emma that way you will regret it.”

“Oh Emma is it?”

“Aye, Emma,” Killian said, releasing a breath and trying to be the bigger person here. He could admit that he had made bad choices in the past, and the fall out of those choices had made Liam’s life and job no doubt more complicated. Rationally Killian knew that he was the one the burden fell on to be the bigger person, but it was difficult when his elder brother was giving in to such theatrics. They both knew Killian hadn’t been in the habit of sleeping with every eligible lady in the whole United Kingdom, that was all a part of his unearned reputation, but hashing that point out in this moment would do nothing. What needed to be said was of an entirely different nature. “I hadn’t planned to get into this just now, I was hoping to introduce the two of you when you came in a few months so you could see that she’s different. She’s everything.”

“Everything? Christ, Killian, she’s just a woman!”

“No, she’s the woman, brother,” Killian said aggressively, and then it dawned on him – this wasn’t worth his time. If Liam was coming at this with such combative, head-strong energy he was never going to listen. As such they were just moving towards a larger fight, a bigger blow out with more hurt along the way. It would be better to shut it down now and deal with the fall out later, at least that way the whole night might not be ruined and he might yet get to see Emma. “You know what, let’s just call and end to this. It’s been a long day, and I’m not interested in whatever judgment you’ve got rattling around in your brain right now. You don’t know Emma, Liam. You don’t know us together. Hell you don’t even really know me anymore. So let’s just say I’ll call you in a week, or better yet you can email me any business particulars and I’ll see you when I see you.”

Killian ended the call before Liam could respond and turned his phone on the ‘do not disturb’ setting. Was it rude? Yes, but it felt warranted under the circumstances. He didn’t need that kind of negativity in his life, and when his brother felt a little more compassionate and a little more interested in trusting Killian’s judgment they’d speak again. For now, Killian returned once more to the text he was about to send Emma only to hear a knock at the door. Now who could that be this time of night?

“Can I help you?” Killian asked as he opened the door to his apartment. A young man with a bike stood before him and the kid nodded, handing Killian a package and a tablet for a signature.

“Delivery for Jones.”

“Right. Thanks, mate,” Killian said as he accepted. He shut the door behind him and examined the parcel. He knew he hadn’t ordered anything but when he saw the return address he grinned. It was from Emma. But what could it be?

Opening it up Killian discovered it was of all things a cassette tape and an accompanying player. Thank God she’d thought to include that last part because he certainly didn’t have one, but before he could listen he had to search for a note. He found a short one attached and read it as quick as he could.

‘This song wouldn’t exist without us.’

Killian felt his pulse quickening as he maneuvered the tape out of its holder and into the player, his conversation with his brother all but forgotten. It was a Walkman style set up, something straight out of the 90s but the fun of the nostalgia was undeniable. He was already in the best mood possible by the time he had the headphones on, but then he pressed play on the tape and he was awed into something else. 

The music that came through the device and into his ears was unexpected but brilliant. It moved him in a way he truly hadn’t seen coming. This was no mixtape of throwback songs, this was something new, something bold, and something truly remarkable. Killian was certain it was one of Emma’s own compositions, and he stood there surrounded by the essence of her music trying to fathom how one person could have such talent. Too soon the song came to an end, but just as Killian was about to hit rewind to play it again Emma’s voice flittered through the air giving the name of the song, ‘Ready for You,’ and the intended scene it should go with on the series she was working on with Tiana.

Another realization dawned at that part, not just from the title, but from the purpose of the song as well. He’d been speaking with Emma on and off all week about the orchestrations she needed to work on, and one of them was the theme for one of the show’s heroines and her love interest. According to Emma the two characters (neither of which were played by Ruby) were ‘endgame,’ and he was now sworn to secrecy because no one knew of that except for Emma and Tiana. So to have Emma saying that it was their relationship that sparked this kind of music with this intended meaning… well it was just about the clearest way he could think for Emma to show him that she was in fact ready for the next step between them.

Understanding now what Emma’s intention must have been Killian moved swiftly, abandoning his original plans and throwing on his leather jacket once more. He grabbed his phone, debating as he walked to the doorway whether or not he should call Emma on the way. Such debate was not actually needed, however, because when he opened the door again he very nearly ran into the woman he was trying to get to in such a haste.

“Emma,” he declared, shocked that she would be here but so bloody grateful he couldn’t find the words.

“Hey. I was hoping you were back by now, and I got the delivery receipt for the package, but I didn’t think you would have plans already,” Emma said as she took in his appearance that was ready for departure. “I shouldn’t have assumed. I’ll just -,”

Not wanting Emma to doubt even for a moment that he was thrilled she had come, Killian pulled her to him and kissed her out there in the hallway. He felt her wariness slip away the instant their lips met and through some sort of coordination he couldn’t actively control he maneuvered them both inside of his apartment. Words weren’t needed as he got them inside and pushed Emma against the now closed door, his body fueled by the feel of hers beneath him and the way she held on to him like she loathed the very thought of being parted. There was no space between them, no end to the passion in sight, but Killian wanted one last affirmation before they took this final plunge.

“Stay with me tonight, love,” he whispered as his mouth remained just inches from hers. He watched her eyes open, the jade color now darkened from the exchange they’d just had but they lit with the smile she shared at his request.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

With her approval Killian locked the door and now the decision wasn’t one of how far to go but just exactly how to play it. He’d fantasized about this almost since their first meeting, concocted at least a hundred scenarios in his head and imagined each corner of this apartment as having some kind of potential, but the first time he was truly with Emma, Killian knew it had to be in bed. That wasn’t to say they were in any kind of rush though, and the build up, of which he was planning quite a lot, could happen anywhere she damn well pleased.

Emma, meanwhile, had no problem indicating what she wanted. She was unwilling to break away from him, kissing him surely as she had been, both of their hands roaming, leaving trails that inspired more hunger along the way. It was as if they were famished for the connection and too long denied the promise of this part of their chemistry. In no time at all Emma had managed to rid Killian of his jacket and most of the buttons on his shirt while also leading them to the living room. She was making good time, trying to tear away the layers that separated them until they were all gone, but it seemed it wasn’t fast enough, as Emma looked at him and let out a frustrated sigh of air.

“Something wrong, Swan?” Killian asked with a grin, knowing full well there was nothing the world over that could possibly be calculated as amiss when he and Emma were like this. No, her frustration was all of a sexual nature, and he watched as his words, rough from the need he had for her, washed over her skin and sent a shiver through her.

“This is taking too long,” she said with what might have been considered a pout and Killian chuckled as they moved in through the kitchen and come up against the counter. Then he surprised her by spinning her in his embrace and coming right up behind her, his hands clasped on her waist to pull her back. 

Killian pushed her blonde hair over her shoulder, his lips trailing down from her ear lobe and lower, finding a spot at her neck he’d noticed that she was sensitive at before. He took slow, torturous care of riling her up in a way that had her wanting all the more, his hands moving across the delicate dress that clung to her figure. He knew in his heart she’d worn this for him, in the hopes of pushing things further tonight, and he had no more ability to resist. This scrap of red silk was beautiful, but it couldn’t compare to the woman underneath and Killian was ready to reveal his prize. He unzipped it with just enough patience to tease them both and then he let the garment fall as he pushed the straps off her bared shoulders.

“We have all night, Emma,” he assured her as his fingertips traced her now mostly naked flesh. “And far longer too, as you well know.”

Killian watched the harsh swallow that came at his words, but Emma wasn’t running from his actions or his words. Instead she turned back around in his arms and took control back once more, pulling him in for another needy kiss that he caved into immediately. So much for slowing this down, Killian thought to himself. Now Emma was even more set on finding release, and he was right there with her. 

“I know we have time,” Emma said when they came up for air again and her eyes locked on his, her hand trailing down to the button of his slacks, grazing down his bare chest and abs in the process and making his already undeniable ache to have her grow. “And trust me, I’m happy for it. But we’ve already waited so long… I don’t think I can stand to wait anymore. I need you, Killian. I need you now.”

What more was there to say? When the woman he loved made her wants and wishes known it was Killian’s job to see to it that he did everything he could to procure them for her. It was in no way a hardship given how much he wanted her as well, and besides, they could have the slow and steady seduction he’d anticipated later. Far, far later after he’d wrung out every last drop of passion from her tonight.

They hurried back to his room, both of them of the same mind this time and now words weren’t needed any more. Their remaining clothes were stripped away, and by the time they’d hit the bed they were both beyond rational planning or design. This was pure instinct, and all Killian could think was that he had to make her come, had to satisfy every last desire his Swan could have. He knew he was on his way to accomplishing that as he moved above her, his lips tracing down her body past the tender peaks of her breasts, over the gentle swell of her stomach, and down to the space between her thighs that had been driving him mad for weeks.

“Killian.”

Emma said his name not in warning or in censure but as a sigh of need. His eyes flicked back up to hers and he saw the nearly wild appearance that had settled in them. Lust had consumed her, and Killian had known as much without even looking. Every sound, every movement that came from Emma told him exactly what she wanted, and he was nothing if not persistent when it came to reading the signs. Because of this he knew that even as she pleaded for him to sate her desire immediately, she actually wanted just a touch more anticipation. He bit lightly at her inner thigh, feeling her jump and then shake underneath the soothing of his tongue after. He did the same thing to the other side, moving closer to her sex, and only after a few more heartbeats did he give in, tasting her on his tongue as she let herself go to the sensations.

It was an out of body experience to know he was giving Emma so much all at once. Nothing could compare to it, and he didn’t even think to try and draw connections. This was already so much more than a simple shag; it was intimacy designed with meaning and with purpose. Every flick of his tongue, every suck, every kiss, was all done in the name of seeing Emma reach heaven itself, but when she finally fell into the ecstasy she was seeking it was Killian who was flush with fulfillment. It became clear that this was rapidly becoming an addiction, and as he kissed his way back up her body and came above her, looking at the pink that had crept into her cheeks and the satisfaction that swam about her gaze, Killian realized there would be no coming back from Emma Swan. This woman had run away with his heart completely and he was fundamentally changed from knowing and loving her.

Their tender moment was short lived however, for Emma had sacrificed none of her energy in finding her enjoyment. Indeed she surprised him, switching their positions and undertaking a perusal of her own that left him reeling. Damn she was a siren, a bloody minx who was hell bent on riling him to a state that would be unforgiveable, but how could he blamed when she had her mouth on him? It was sublime and indescribable, but when he was just at the edge of falling apart himself he stopped her and took back the reins once more. The time for waiting was over. All he could think about was filling her, sheathing himself inside her and never turning back.

“Fuck,” he grunted to himself as he paused just before taking what they both wanted.

“That’s kind of the idea,” Emma said with a laugh that turned into a slight moan from her still lingering desire. “What’s the hold up here, Jones?”

“I left the condoms on the counter. Just a minute, love.” He moved to get them but Emma held tighter and shook her head.

“You don’t have to. I’m on the pill.”

Holy shit, he didn’t know what to say to that and his hard length jerked at the words. The thought of being with Emma without a barrier was enough to drive him mad. If things were already blindingly glorious between them, what indescribable ecstasy would be procured from taking her bare?

“Are you sure, Emma? I’m clean of course. Just had my physicals with the new team doctors, and I’ve never actually gone without…”

“Me either,” Emma replied softly as her hand came to brush some of his hair from his forehead. “But I want to. With you.”

Since that want was of a fully mutual variety Killian offered no rebuttal, only giving in and taking what they both were craving so desperately. The moment he filled her was too fantastic to put to words, and he could have stayed there forever if Emma hadn’t begged him to move. The rhythm they set was perfection itself, crafted from a bond needed between two people that couldn’t ever be contrived. It made the claims of stories and fairytales, the ones about soul mates and perfect matches seem a little more realistic, for surely this could never be this way with another. This love he felt for Emma was cosmic, causing a shift Killian swore he could feel down to his bones, but when it came to an end and they both cried out in relief, it was the aftermath that truly took his breath away.

Holding onto Emma and having her in his arms cuddled beside him was a luxury he knew she rarely bestowed on others. Emma was guarded, cautious, and careful with her heart. She had been wary at the start, and with good reason, but as weeks went on Emma admitted that getting close to people always scared her. Truth be told Killian had often felt the same way. Love was a means of getting hurt, a fanciful notion that distracted from the game and never worked out in the end, but his old cynical notions of love no longer held water. For in this moment there was no way to deny what was between them. Tonight both Emma and Killian had shed the last pieces of doubt and of caution, and now they were truly in this together.

“So that was…” Emma paused as her fingers traced over his chest and a smile bloomed upon her lips. “Definitely worth waiting for.”

“On that we most certainly agree, love,” Killian said happily, seeing the call of sleep washing over Emma and feeling a similar tug into slumber himself.

“And I’m waking you up in a few hours for more,” she joked with a yawn. “You promised, no more waiting.”

“Aye, Swan. No more waiting. Not any more.”

He pressed a final kiss to the crown of her head, and a few moments later, as sleep finally claimed them both, Killian fell asleep smiling, knowing that life held so much promise now that he had Emma. And no matter what came next, and no matter where their paths might lead, Killian would do whatever it took to keep them like this – happy, connected, and together – for now and for always.

Post-Note: So there we have it. Another chapter come and gone and we find our couple just about in the happiest spot they can be. Rest assured this story, like all my stories so far, intends to give CS truly happy situations, and while there will be some bumps in the road ahead, it’s smooth sailing for the time being. Anyway I thank you all so much for reading, commenting, and messaging me! Your enthusiasm has been wonderful and I love hearing your thoughts. Hope you have a great rest of your weekend and thanks for being fabulous!

[shireness-says]

Second Verses and Happy Beginnings

Summary: Killian Jones never expected his life to end up like this when Emma Swan walked into his bar, all those years ago. A follow-up to Maybe I Won’t Die Alone. ~3.1K. Also on AO3.

A/N: Look, Ma, I posted something this week! Even if it is in, barely under the time limit. This story was written as a sequel to Maybe I Won’t Die Alone, my RockStar!Emma AU, and you should definitely read that first, since this piece assumes knowledge of what happened (links to AO3, Tumblr). 

Special thanks to my karaoke consultant, @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713, who helped me pick songs for everyone back before I realized that would be way too clunky to actually include. Thanks, boo - you were an enormous help!

Rated T for a little swearing and vague mentions of more enjoyable activities occurring. Un-beta’d, in the true spirit of the original.

Enjoy!

Watching the love of his life hold back the scowl lurking just beneath her forced smile on the red carpet, Killian Jones still has trouble believing this is his life.

------

Their courtship had been almost shockingly traditional, really. The tabloids are particularly disappointed in this - undoubtedly expecting to be some sort of drama or tension associated with a famous rock star dating a normal bloke who runs a bar in London - and Emma is almost giddy with amusement over their confusion and annoyance and outrage. But they’re really… Killian doesn’t want to say boring, but honestly, they’re not that exciting. The most high-profile thing they do is sometimes go and see other bands, established or up-and-coming, and even that doesn’t make for a particularly good story. At the end of the day, they’re just a pair of people desperately in love who want to be left in peace.

But he’s liked this sedate courtship - they both have. After six months, they move in together, selling Emma’s place and hauling everything across town again. True, her old apartment would definitely have been large enough for both of them, but Killian likes this new start - a place that’s for the both of them to grow in together. So they buy a little house in a cute suburb and fill the house with pictures of their family. There’s a nice kitchen, and space for Emma to have a designated music room, and two extra bedrooms he might have thought about filling with children. One day. In the meantime, it’s everything they need, with space to grow.

He and Emma have been dating for nearly two years when he finally proposes. He does it right, too; they’d flown back to Maine for Christmas that year, and Killian had very nervously asked Ruth for her permission to marry Emma. In retrospect, he’s not sure why he was so nervous - Emma’s mother more than approves of the two of them, especially since she views Killian as one of the few people with the patience to handle living with Emma - but he’s a shaking mess of nerves all the same. Ruth excitedly grants her blessing, of course, and then proceeds to grill him about every detail of a proposal he hasn’t planned yet. It’s the Nolan way. Anything less would be out of character.

He probably should have dropped down on one knee that very evening - he has a ring and everything, it’s not like he’s not prepared - but her whole family is there, and watching, and it doesn’t feel like the right time.

The right moment, as it turns out, is all the way in the beginning of March, when he’s still fretting about perfect dates and whether she’ll want flowers or music or something else he hasn’t thought of yet. They’re in the bar before he opens for the afternoon, which is probably the most predictable setting he could have asked for in taking their relationship to the next level. So many of their milestones have happened at the Jolly Roger - it’s probably only appropriate that this one happen here as well.

He’s checking the liquor stocks, making sure everything is ready for the evening to come, with Emma leaning against the counter and watching him with a funny look in her eye. Killian knows that look; it usually means plans and trouble. Killian also knows damn well she’ll say her piece in her own time, usually for greatest dramatic effect. It’s the Emma Swan way. So he smiles the special smile that’s just for her and continues with his pre-opening routine.

He’s just wiping down the bar top one last time when she finally speaks up. “Are you ever going to ask?” she says, the smile evident in her voice.

“Ask what, darling?” he replies absentmindedly, attention focused on scouring one particularly stubborn sticky spot. Honestly, what the hell are these people spilling?

“Me to marry you,” her voice pipes back in, causing Killian to jerk his head up suddenly. He must look ridiculous, all wide eyed surprise at her question. Even if the words are said in a teasing tone, he knows she means them. They’ve talked about marriage before, like the mature and responsible adults they’re trying to be, and both know it’s a step they’re not adverse to. That doesn’t mean he was expecting the matter to come up this particular afternoon, in this particular setting.

Even if they’ve discussed the matter, he’s not sure how she knows he’s on the verge of taking that step. “How do you know about that?” he somehow manages to stutter out past his own tongue. Christ, this is not how this was supposed to go.

She shrugs. “Mary Margaret can’t keep a secret.”

Ah. Of course. He should have figured on that one. Emma’s sister-in-law probably didn’t mean to, but when she has a piece of information she’s not supposed to share, you can practically see it bursting from every one of her pores. It would have taken Emma nothing at all to weasel the information out of her.

Lost in his thoughts, and probably his embarrassment, he doesn’t notice Emma leaning across the bar until she takes his hand, their fingers entwining automatically after months and years of practice turned instinctual reflex. “I’m gonna say yes, you know,” she says softly, and if Killian was shocked before, you could knock him over with a feather now. He knows, somewhere in his mind, that she’ll say yes if he asks, but it’s one thing to know that, and quite another to hear it. He takes another moment to stare, slightly open-mouthed, before responding.

“I’ll be right back.”

And after that, it’s just a matter of dashing upstairs to the apartment he may not live in anymore but still keeps in case he needs to crash one night. With fumbling hands, he yanks open the drawer to retrieve the little blue velvet box from its hiding place. At the time, the apartment’s junk drawer was the only place he could be certain she wouldn’t stumble across it on accident. That planning has certainly come in handy now, with an impatient fiance-to-be waiting downstairs at the bar.

He practically skids around the corner on his way back down, bursting back into the main bar area a few minutes later.

Killian is sure he must look a sight - practically tripping over his own feet, hands faintly trembling with nerves - but Emma’s light laugh as he attempts to arrange his legs into a kneeling position helps.

He had a speech at one point, or half a speech, ready to go, but that was when he had grand plans of dinners and river cruises and Moments with capital letters, but those scripts never took into consideration that he might be having this moment on his questionably clean bar floor. But Emma’s still smiling at him from her perch, and really, that’s all the encouragement he’ll ever need. Killian takes a final deep breath, soaking in one last moment before his life changes forever.

“Emma Swan, love of my life, would you do me the great honor of marrying me?” There’s no need for grand speeches, really; it’s just the two of them, and they’ve never needed the grand gesture.

Emma’s grinning so widely her cheeks must hurt, before she finally opens her mouth and says the word probably their entire family has been waiting to hear:

“Yes.”

------

The wedding is as small as they can reasonably arrange - which is still larger than either would like, but oh well. The point is, it happens, and they’re married.

It’s a very traditional affair, to the shock of none of their friends and all of the magazines. They find a nice garden and Killian wears a black suit and Emma finds a beautiful white dress - fitted enough to suit her tastes, with a lace top that she wears for the ceremony and formal reception to avoid scandalizing Killian’s handful of elderly aunts and uncles any further. But she looks like a princess, the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, and he’s not ashamed to admit that he tears up at the sight of her brother walking her down the aisle.

Killian feels like he should probably remember the ceremony more, but so much of it is a blur. He says the words; she says the words. Mostly, he’s so focused on Emma and the way there’s a couple of wisps of loose hair around her face and how the veil makes her look like some sort of angel, especially with the way she’s smiling at him, that the rest of it is a blur. He’s told to kiss the bride almost before he knows it, and they’re married.

They have two receptions. It’s not for any classy reason, or a celebrity excuse to spend more money, it’s just that there are people they should allow to be there for the cake cutting and first dance and everything else, and the people they actually want to let loose with later. So, two parties it is. The rest of the Lost Girls, with an assist on guitar from Robin,  sing the song Emma first wrote for him (ignoring the disapproving looks of the older crowd), Liam makes the entire room cry with his best man speech, and the cake is this rich chocolate concoction from a local bakery they discovered near the house right after they moved in. It’s… nice, in that way that it’s nice that people are there to be happy for the two of them, but a little formal.

No, the real party is afterwards, when all the people they’re obligated to invite go home and just their immediate family and friends are left - the members of the Lost Girls and Band of Thieves, Regina, Merida, both their siblings. Ruth had been graciously invited, but turned their offer under the excuse of exhaustion. But the rest of them hightail it over to the Jolly Roger for the afterparty of the century.

(And maybe he and Emma are a little later than expected after they sneak in a quickie in the reception hall’s dressing room under the guise of Killian helping Emma detach her veil, but their friends don’t really need to know that, not for sure.)

There’s laughing, and drinking, and fun. They’d arranged for an extra sheet cake to be delivered to the bar, and Smee agrees to man the kitchen in his dress clothes, so they’re all treated to a steady stream of junk food, which Emma in particular appreciates. Really, this is the kind of party they both wanted - small and casual and theirs.

Inevitably, as the hour grows later and the drinks grow stronger - thank you, Merida - things turn to karaoke. It seems appropriate; weirdly enough, karoake kind of brought Emma and Killian together. It’s only right that it features as a highlight of their reception as well. Some participants are more enthusiastic than others - Mulan’s girlfriend, Dorothy, flatly refuses to sing, and Mulan herself threatens to choose “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald” if forced to participate - but most of the attendants take a turn. Ruby is particularly enthusiastic (though the cocktails may be to blame for that), and seems to be on stage every other song, aggressively making eye contact with Killian through the entirety of “Goodbye Earl” and serenading the pianist from Band of Thieves with Bob Seger when he attempts to leave and go home to his daughter. Emma chooses a Killers song - “You all know I’m nothing if not predictable” - and Killian is even coaxed onstage after losing a bet with Robin to croon a few love songs at his new bride. Personally,  Killian’s favorite moment is when Will Scarlet drunkenly selects a song in French on accident and refuses to just let it pass, instead insisting on tripping over every word and dedicating the whole mess to Belle, “the only French I speak.” It’s a thoughtful gesture, if somewhat nonsensical in its wording.

(There’s quite a bit of teasing about the seductive powers of bad French karaoke when Nellie Rose French Scarlet enters the world nine months later from a motley collection of doting aunts and uncles.)

Killian and Emma stay at the reception afterparty probably far longer than is typical for a newly married couple, but they do eventually make their farewells, leaving the key with Smee and Merida to lock up. It’s a surprisingly sedate ride home, but then again, there’s only so much you can get away with in the back of a taxi.

“Are you happy, Mr. Jones?” she asks with a smile, words only slightly slurred.

Killian smiles right back at her - at his wife! - before dropping a light kiss on her upturned lips. “Blissful, Mrs. Jones.”

------

And life goes on. A new album is released, not long after Nellie is born, and the Lost Girls embark on a severely abbreviated tour. It’s hard, he’ll admit; Emma leaving for extended periods of time is like a throwback to the days before she was based in London, but now with the added bonus of not being able to sleep properly at night in an empty bed and expecting her around every corner of their house. Killian misses his wife, dammit, and no amount of calls and video chats can replicate the warm weight of her body curled up next to his.

It’s that desperate missing that’s landed them in this latest adventure, most likely. They weren’t actively trying for kids, by any means, but Emma has never been great about adjusting her pill schedule to the various time changes associated with a tour and really, can a man be blamed for wanting to spend some quality naked time with the love of his life when she’s been gone on this latest leg of the tour for four weeks? Absolutely not.

But those actions have consequences - results, really, consequences makes it sound like some awful punishment - and the results in this case are a positive pregnancy test, followed by a sonogram and a tiny, fluttering heartbeat. A baby.

And all those convoluted paths, traditional and less so, have led to this moment: standing on the red carpet at the Grammys, watching the love of his life be interviewed by a reporter Emma looks like she’d rather snap in two.

The interviewer is some tiny slip of a woman, all auburn hair and sweet simpering attitude that Emma has sworn in the past hides the most backhanded comments. Killian can’t help but agree - asking the prerequisite questions about the album that brought the band here tonight, the interviewer sounds dismissive at best, like she doesn’t expect anything from such a record.

“Well this is such an… interesting look for tonight, very daring!” she’s saying, and Killian thinks the strain in Emma’s polite smile could be spotted from the next state. Possibly across the ocean. He takes a step closer to wrap his arm around her waist, hoping she can draw upon his own patience for just a few minutes longer.

“Well thanks, Aurora, I’m not much for the gauzy fairy looks formal maternity wear usually offers.”

She looks stunning, really, all snippy comments aside. Emma’s dressed in some tight, black concoction of a cocktail dress in a fabric he doesn’t pretend to recognize, with gold studs lining the neckline, short sleeves, and under the bust and her hair pulled back in a kicky ponytail to match her dramatic eye makeup. It’s quite the look, one that had left Killian awestruck when Emma wandered out of the bedroom, but he can see why Aurora might have objections, since the dress does nothing to soften or mask the five-and-a-half month bump. He likes seeing the bump, really, even if the interviewer is weirded out by Emma’s tight fashion choices - it’s a easily visible reminder (not that he needs one) that there’s a child in there, a child they made together and will love beyond all reason.

That pest is trying to grill Emma about the babe now, and honestly, that’s about Killian’s limit. What have he and Emma done in their lives that leads this harpy to think it’s alright to demand to know her due date and the baby’s gender? Nothing.

“We’re letting it be a surprise,” Emma replies in that sickly sweet voice Killian knows means she’s at the end of her patience. Thankfully, it seems to be obvious to the brunette as well, as they’re finally allowed to break away and wander inside the concert hall.

“I hate that vulture,” Emma grumbles. Killian is just trying to focus on how cute she gets when she’s angry in an effort to not think about how much he’d prefer to go throttle that awful Aurora.

“I know love, but it’s over, at least. You were very diplomatic, even if I did know you were about to commit a murder.”

She glowers at him, but it doesn’t hold too much threat when they both know the statement is true. It’s with no small relief that they find and take their seats, even if it is earlier than most of the attendees. Emma sinks into her chair with a groan of relief, and Killian can’t help but worry.

“How are you feeling, love?”

“Like this kid is way too excited. We’re in a different time zone, shouldn’t he think he should be sleeping or something?”

Killian laughs, reach over to softly rub his hand over Emma’s stomach, searching for the little kicks and punches from their son. And ok, maybe they lied. Maybe they both jumped at the chance to find out the sex of the baby. But maybe, also, it’s no one’s business but their own.

“I don’t think Wiley got the memo, darling.” As if on cue, the little guy himself kicks out at Killian’s hand, receiving a collection of shushing noises and gentle rubbing to where he’s been aiming in response. It doesn’t always work to calm the little lad down, but Killian hopes it will this time, because his poor love deserves a break. The swollen feet are quite enough to deal with, especially in strappy heels.

Glancing back up at his Swan’s face, she’s wearing that soft look he’s come to associate with hormones. “I love you so much, you know that?” she asks with a smile and a small trace of wonder. “Thank you for coming tonight even though you hate the attention, and for keeping me from committing a murder, and for calming down our little kickboxer.”

There’s only one answer, really. “You’re very welcome, darling,” he murmurs back. “I love you too, so very much. You and Wiley both.”

And it might be hard to believe this is his life some days. They might have taken a few paths neither expected that first night she walked into his bar and changed his entire world.

But he wouldn’t change a thing.

Songs mentioned are by Gordon Lightfoot and the Dixie Chicks, because why the hell not.

Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!