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myriadxofxmuses · 2 years

Note

[ FIVE CALLS ] for Ethan

The phone bounced against the palm of his hand as he paced through his living room. The tv droned on softly in the background. His siblings' laughs could be heard along with their friends' drifted through the air as they swam in their pool. Everyone was out enjoying the sunshine while Ethan was cooped up inside, ready to explode from anger over the recent lull in acceptable prey.

He needed a fix and he needed it fast. His mind raced through a myriad of women who would be a close second to his chosen type, but would ultimately be an allowable substitute, thus sufficing his need until one could be found.

His thumb scrolled through his phonebook until slowing down when his eyes caught sight of Rose's name. A smirk tugged at his lips. She was quite a contender when it came to the finalists in his game. She knew more about him than anyone else - having seen his most sacred secret with her own eyes. She knew enough to end him should her little black heart ever desire and that was mrore terrifying than his actual, inevitable death.

He clicked into her contact info and pulled up the number, ready to touch call, when Kelly's name overtook the screen.

"Kelly!," he said with expertly feigned joy when he answered. "I was just thinking about you," he seductively lied. "That offer for Netflix and chill still stand?" An evil smirk overtook his lips when she expectedly said yes, offering a time to meet. "Sounds good. See you then," he said hanging up the phone. "Guess fate has decided to save you my little raven," he mused at Rose's name when it returned to the screen before clicking it off and getting ready for his night.

-----

His entire family sat at the dinner table, a rare occassion, discussing the upcoming familial event of the year - the grand Harrison family reunion. A get together Ethan despised since he was a child. It was a bunch of nobodies with the same last name that he had to pretend to care about. He didn't even know most of their names and yet his parents insisted on the whole lot of them going and participating in such an antiqudated tradition. Why coudn't they just all admit they cared even less than he did about this bullshit?

To save face, that's why.

"I don't see why I have to bring anybody," he countered his mother's request, picking at the food on his plate.

"So people don't think you're some weird homo," his sister teased, Ethan glaring her way. "Although I'm pretty sure you're too weird even for them," she added with a smirk carryign devilish undertones.

"Fuck you nerd," he countered feebly.

"Ethan, language," his mother tried correcting him.

"Oooo ouch," his sister said feigning offense. "Take you long to come up with that?" she asked rhetorically.

He simply rolled his eyes and continued trying to ignore her. "I'm not bringing anyone to witness this disaster of a family," he insulted, motioning to not only them, but the rest of the clan. "It's bad enough I have to show up. We don't know any of those people. Why does it matter?"

"You know why it matters," his brother chimed in, focusing more on his food than them.

"Yea, yea, reputation, tradition, blah, blah, blah. Well, I don't care about any of that. Just leave me here."

"You know we can't do that," his father started. "We are a family and I expect us to act like one. One weekend with us won't kill you Ethan."

"It just might," he grumbled.

"Stop being so dramatic and buck up," his dad ordered. "We all have to deal with this and so do you. So if your mother wants you to have a guest like your siblings, you'll find one. End of story."

And that was that.

Ethan angrily pushed away from the table and stormed off to the guesthouse he'd claimed ownership of - or rather the space his parents allowed him to use. He yelled out in frustration when the front door slammed shut. He was fuming.

Here he was, a grown ass man, still relying on mommy and daddy and forced to obey their rules. If it hadn't been for their substantial bank account he would have walked away from all of this years ago. His financial dependance sickened him, but it was the one and only sacrifice he beleived in making.

"You want me to bring a date mommie dearest?" he asked the air as he pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts to Rose's name. "Then a date you'll get, but I don't think you'll be very happy with my choice of mate," he said through grit teeth as his thumb hovered over the number.

A fleeting thought passing through his mind made him hesitate hitting call however. He was trying to ruin the reuninon by bringing the loudest outcast he knew, but what if it made Rose think there was more between them? What if there was? After all, she was his first choice when the demand for him to have a plus one was given. Did that mean she was actually important to him?

No. It couldn't.

He shook the pondering thoughts away and scrolled back through his phone book and dialed a for sure, no strings attached, wham bam thank you of a maam date - "Kenzie, my favorite girl," he lied with convincing desire when she answered. "Free for some fun this weeknd?"

-----

His head rolled back against the couch. His eyes rolled into the back of his head. His hands heavily found their way to his face and drug themselves across it, letting out a small groan. His world was reeling - alcohol and barbituates his poison of choice for the evening, feeding his recycled need to end his existence.

He forced himself to sit forward and stared at the blank television attempting to steady his double vision, the room around him buzzing in and out of focus. It wasn't that he felt any kind of remorse or regret for his actions. Nor was it any sort of depressive feelings that drove his suicidal tendencies. It was the heavy realization of life's mediocrity.

Money, girls, friends, cars, clothes. He was free to come and go as he pleased, never having to worry about the consequences. For all intents and purposes he had it all. But he wanted more than easy nights and lazy days.

He wanted a challenge.

And life was pointess witht one. Cheating death had just about the highest odds of failure, winning allowing for the satisfaction of his needs. But it never lasted.

Sloppily he grabbed his phone from the coffee table and blinking his eyes clear he dropped his gaze to the screen.

Usually when he was deep within a therapy session he just waited for the darkness to swallow him whole, only worried whether or not this would be his first loss. Tonight however was different. Tonight a million thoughts ran through his mind. Tonight a million things he wanted to say just in case came rushing to the forefornt. Tonight he worried about losing.

He unlocked it and pulled up her name. His eyes began to flutter, weighed heavily with sleep as his toxic cocktail began seeping through his veins. He opened her contact info, a momentary half smirk trying to lift his lips at the irony of Ethan finally feeling like he had a heart when he was trying to stop it. A slow chuckle escaped him as he fell sideways onto the couch, his phone dropping to the floor before he could hit call and tell her what she'd done to him.

-----

"Aarrggghh!" he roared, roughly tossing the woman's body into the chair and hurriedly strapping her in. Searing pain shot through his side with every movement. Once she was secured he finally looked down at its source. Two long prongs of a sefl protection keychain stuck out of his side, buried six inches deep. He angrily yanked it free with a gutteral growl, keeping it securely in his hand once removed.

He harshly grabbed the woman's face and forced her back awake. "Look what you did bitch!" he snarled, forcing her to look at the heavily bleedin wound before forcing her attention back to him. "This could have been so easy for you, Kenzie," he said through grit teeth. "All you had to do was put out and you'd be sound asleep in your cozy little bed, home, right now. But noooo. You had to be a fucking cocktease WHO ATTACKED ME WHEN I GAVE YOU WHAT YOU WERE ASKING FOR!!"

He grimaced, shifting to stand and gare down at her. His hand instinctively went to cover his wound, the metal of her weapon cold against the hot blood seeping through his shirt.

"You know, it's not every day someone such as youself is graced with the presence of a Harrison. Let alone all of us. A nothing fuck was the least you could have done for such an opportunity. Why else do you think I invited you in the first place?" he grumbled rhetorically, his chest heaving from both fury and pain as he glared at her.

Her whimpers turned to sobs as he stood before her, covered in blood and terrifyingly manic. His body quivered from adrenaline as it electrfied his veins. His blood boiled as he glanced once more at his side.

"Should just gave it up," he said with a eeriely calm huff of a chuckle as his eyes watched the blood pour from his side. "You should have been the good little slut that you are," he growled bringing his attention her way before jamming her own protection through her throat.

He stumbled away toward his table of tools and fished his phone out of his pocket. it took three tries to unlock the screen, his blood covered fingers' touch unregistering. His eyes quickly looked to his side as his thumb instinctively pulled up his recent call list, a choked back grimace of pain falling from him as her turned to lean against the table.

His sight began to blur and his head felt as if it was swimming. He needed help. And fast.

He couldn't focus on the names scrolling past, passing Rose's name more than once as he searched for it. Tossing the phone on the table he forced his feet to shuffle across the room to a second, much smaller table, almost hidden in the corner - dropping to its chair and opting to stitch himself up instead of waiting.

------

He dropped onto his couch with a sigh and turned on the t.v.

Talk show.

Judge show.

Talk show.

News.

Kid shit.

Each channel was worse than the last. He switched over to Netflix and began scrolling through his list of movies, all just as unsatisfying, not a single title catching his interest.

Hulu was a bust.

And Tubi was just as useless.

He settled on a documentary he'd seen a million times, tossign the remote next to him on the couch. He pulled his phone out and began scrolling mindlessly throgh his socials as he ate his takeout, the t.v. softly droning on in the background.

He needed stimulation. The thought drove his thumb to back out of TikTok and pull up his phonebook, silently deciding which girl to offer the chance to do so. Ashley? No, too clingly. Erin maybe? Eh, too basic. Mary? Too stupid. Susie? Too innocent.

None of the names flying by his gaze did nothing for his temptations. He ate another bite of food, going back to the beginning with the thought over that new girl. The weird gothy bitch as Cole had so eloquently called her. Ethan hadn't shared his setiment, but she was new so it was his duty to get her number before anyone else. And that he did.

He found the newest addition to his list possible booty calls and hovered over her name. Taking another bite of food he pondered whether he really wanted to take that step with her. To invite her into his life and onto the waiting list for a tour of his inner sactum down by the lake. She did seem like she'd be fun to say the least. Something tugged weakly at him when the image of their bodies tangled under the sheets flashed through his mind. Something miniscule that would, unknowingly to Ethan, grow to a nearly overwhelming weight. That something was true desire, though he ignored it, unconvinced the newbie was worth the wait or the effort of finding out.

Deciding against calling her, he shut off the screen to his phone and tossed his food onto the coffee table. He changed the t.v. to his favorite skin-o-max channel and just took care of himself, going right back to being useless and bored once finished.

------

"We really do have our pick tonight, huh?" Taner half shouted over the music.

Ethan leaned on his elbow against the bar as eyes scanned the club before them - one group of girls after another empowering themselves by proving dressing like a slut doesn't make you one. And one group after another being infiltrated by males intent on proving them wrong.

He smirked and lightly chuckled to himself. "We sure do," he said just before drinking.

"Mm mm mm," Tanner added, lustfully sizing up his options.

"You look like a dickhead," Ethan teased when he saw the look on his friend's face. "But you are one, so I guess it works," he poked further, taking another drink.

"Yea and you're a douche," he countered.

"Can't argue with that," Ethan feigned agreement, laghing. "You find her yet?"

"Yea. I think so," he replied, his gaze locked on a blonde he motioned at not far ahead. "Wish me luck asshole."

"There's not enough in the world for you to score her, but have fun trying," he half lied, tipping his glass his way.

He finished off his drink and ordered another, leaning on the bar as he waited. He pulled his phone from his pocket and began mindlessly swiping left and right, bored out of his mind. He thanked the bartender for his drink with a small nod and turned to leave when he was stopped by a bruntte.

"Not going to buy me one?"

"Buy you what? A drink? Now why would I want to go and do that?"

"You swiped right," she said wiggling her phone and motioning to his with her eyes.

He looked down and saw that he, in fact had done so. "It's the least you can do before you try and get in my pants don't you think?"

A smirk tugged at his lips and he quickly closed out of the app, unknowingly dialing Rose in the process. "Yes I do," he drawled out slightly as a plan for the evening began to form.

Perhaps this night wasn't as shot as he thought.

He flagged the bartender down. "I gotta say, for someone as beautiful as you," he started flirtatiously. "You sure are a cheap date if only one drink is all it takes to get a taste," he added as he closed the gap between them. "Must not be very good if you give it up that easily," he added challenging her initial confidence with him.

He gave her his most convincing, non threatening smile. His hand found its way to her face and cupped her cheek, her hand covering his instinctively. His aura forced her eyes to remain locked with hishe newly served drink ignored. He bit back at his bottom lip as his eyes danced to hers.

"How about a preview?" he asked rhetorically, bringing his eyes back to hers.

A soft smile tugged at her lips as she let out a shuddered breath, nodding slightly. He let his smile widen before pressing a kiss to her lips. Her tossed a twenty on the bar and grabbed hold of her hand, leading her out to his car - unbeknownst to him that his phone was recording his hungry, passionate fuck session the entire time.

#tw suicide #savagecuhnt #[bring my demons to their knees: ethan & rosalyn]#[comfortably numb: ethan]

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ohbae-me · 3 years

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I've redone my rules since it needed updating anyways, and since we have a lot of new people since I last posted! So for those who are new or want to send a request:

A little about me: You can call me KC or Shep, She/Her, 27, Leo, INFP, I have lots of furbabies and love animals in general, my favourite colour is pink, and I could eat pizza everyday of the week 🥰

✨ RULES ✨

Requests are open unless stated otherwise in my bio. If my requests are closed, any new ones will likely be deleted to keep my inbox organized.

I take sfw/nsfw, I prefer to write gn as much as possible though so that more people can connect with the writing. But you can send gendered requests too.

I typically will not write noncon, unless in certain situations. Referring to it happening past tense is okay with me, or even maybe even in a 'mc is about to be in a bad situation but one of the other characters will help before the bad thing happens' type scenarios, but I will not write noncon involving any of the main or side characters directly

I will also not write for any of the characters cheating on MC. Past cheating or reference to is fine.

I also do not write underage, vore, or any kinks that could be actually harmful.

Pretty much any kink is fine with me otherwise. BDSM, marking, daddy/mommy, femdom, edging/overstim, scenting, toys, etc. It should always be implied in any of my works that anything nsfw is done with explicit consent even if it's not necessarily discussed in the fic. We stan consent and safe sex here. Always have a safe word or an out friends!!

Please do not ask when your prompt will be done. I write in my free time and will do it as soon as I am able!

If sending me a prompt from one of the prompt lists, please include the entire prompt not just the number!!! I have multiple similar ones I write from so it really helps me

I will usually only do 3-4 characters at a time for headcanons

I write for all characters, but will not write Luke as anything but platonic

For matchups, the more info you can give me about yourself the better!

Anything that does not follow rules is simply just deleted!

If you're not sure, shoot me an ask/message and I'll be happy to let you know.

Also, my ask box will always be open to chat or if you have any questions about anything at all! I'm a fairly open person and I like to help however I can :)

Tags I use if you'd like to block:

All NSFW will be tagged as 'thirstyshep', f!mc, m!mc, obey me asks, sheptalks for personal posts, obeymetheanime, obeymeviplounge, obey me spoilers, om spoilers, I also try to tag trigger warnings as much as possible such as 'tw death, tw anxiety, etc. If you'd like me to tag anything in particular, please just let me know.

#obey me #shepwrites #lucifer #mammon #leviathan #satan #asmodeus #Beelzebub #belphegor

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hisgirlwonder · 5 years

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Side To Side (Jim Mason x Reader)

Length: 1.6K words Warning: Smut, sex, mommy/breeding kink, etc (also a bit of a tug at your heartstrings with a breakup) Synopsis: Your own engagement ended badly and now, here you are, having to fake a smile at your brother's wedding. You try to hide away and drown your sorrows, only for a “friend” to find you. Notes: I have been having some creative difficulties and all sorts going on as of late but hopefully this is all over. The “bride” in this story is an older sibling of Medina and Jim’s who I couldn’t be bothered developing at 4am. Sorry it’s absolute garbage but enjoy :’)

You’re properly acquainted with Jim at your brother’s wedding that afternoon. Prior to this, only exchanging pleasantries in passing at family gatherings. You didn’t bother getting comfortable with some kid a good eight or nine years younger. What would the two of you have in common?

Your brother, close friends with Jim, had informed you that he’d arrived back in Palos Verdes a couple of days ago. He’d been gone six months, travelling around the world with his surfboard, and apparently you’d forgotten what he looked like; you had to look twice to take it all in – he’d come back with sun-kissed skin, hair grown out into curls (and in need of a cut), as well as a five o’clock shadow colouring his face. Had he always looked like this good?

Between buzzing on champagne, needing a distraction from your breakup, and the realisation that you wanted to ride Jim like a train, your morals didn’t stand a chance.

“You look lonely and like you could do with the company. Do you need another drink?” he teased; dimples appearing on his teenage cheeks. But you aren’t really lonely, not even close. You were hiding away; trying to avoid every single person at the reception who thought it would be a good idea to comment on your own engagement falling apart. You didn’t think that your brother, a proud man’s man, would be the one walking down the aisle first.

You look down and see you’d almost finished your drink, so you throw the remainder back, and shake it to show you needed a refill. Tipsy off the third or fourth glass, you partially slur the words I definitely am not lonely but I do need another drink, James. Jim smiles while grabbing the empty cup from your hand, only to walk off and joke about how weddings aren’t really his thing. They apparently aren’t your thing anymore, either.

They used to be.

Before your heart was broken by the man you considered your “soulmate”.

You’d planned the perfect wedding for the two of you; eloping to Spain at Summertime to get married in a friend’s backyard. Your plans would have seen you celebrate the union by drinking Sangria as the sun went down, and dancing under the pale moonlight. It was everything you could ever want... until he ran away; giving no explanation to feed these vultures with when they’d pry into your personal business - they thought that just because they knew you since before you could speak, they were entitled to an answer.

“Oh, good. You didn’t run away on me.”

Ouch.

Jim had been back all of two seconds and he was already putting his foot in it. He stutters and stumbles over his words, apologising for his own stupidity. This kid is sweet; you give him that much.

Small talk ensued about his travels, the food he ate, things he saw. All sorts of meaningless conversation took place. You try to seem interested but the fact of the matter was that you just weren’t; the sight of the celebrations filling your gut with nausea.

It should have been you. You should have been the one in the off-white dress, flowers nesting in your braided hair, with the man of your dreams putting a ring on your finger; proclaiming the adoration loudly you felt. You should have been the one drunk on love and not on champagne to drown your sorrows. You should have been the one partaking in your first dance as the wife of the person you had been in love with for so long. It should have been you. But it wasn’t.

“Jim, do you want to go elsewhere? Weddings are a bit of a bummer.”

“Oh yeah, ever since... Sure. Let’s go elsewhere.”

He puts down his drink, leaving it on a table nearby and fills the vacant space in his hand with yours. You follow him through the back door, nobody notices the departure - too busy with their boring conversations at their own grownup tables - and you’re lead to his bedroom.

Looking around at your surroundings, you feel a touch out of place in the room of this nineteen-year-old boy; walls covered in posters of superheroes, surfboard (his prized possession) propped near his desk, an array of surfing magazines and comic books spread out on his nightstand. It was the complete opposite of what you were used to.

When you met your ex-beau, he had a cabinet of his own curiosities; one shelf dedicated to spirits, one shelf dedicated to cigars, and one shelf dedicated to a growing knife collection - five years your senior, and it showed. He told you that you made him feel young, but what do you expect when you surround yourself with such things?

You sit on the edge of his bed, sip away at the drink he’d poured you, and tease him for the stuffed animals by his pillow. Jim playfully snatches the one you picked up in your hands, pretending it was a child; rocking it in his arms, and explaining how Medina had picked it out for his birthday one year; despite it almost falling apart, he couldn’t part with it.

The sentiment in his statement warmed your heart (or maybe was it the alcohol?) so much that you have to fan away at your face; trying to cool down. Jim sits down beside you, your eyes catch, and suddenly you forget why you’re in this room to begin with. You forget about your ex, about avoiding people, about what today was. In that moment, hormones take the reign and leave you wanting this kid to kiss you. Why are you wanting him to kiss you?

You keep trying to remember that while he was probably in diapers, you were probably in middle school. It doesn’t work. Nothing distracts from the throbbing between your thighs. Being the irresponsible adult you are, you tell him to kiss you. The look on his face says everything; shocked, excited, hungry.

He obeys your wish like the good boy he is but breaks the kiss several times to tell me how he’s never done this before, and how your ex was so stupid. If he wasn’t so painfully attractive and kissed so well you would have given up. You break away from the kiss yourself, tugging him back by his mop of brown hair. “Rule number one: Don’t bring up anything that’s going to kill the mood.”

Jim nods with the same enthusiasm of an inexperienced child, eager to please his teacher. The kissing resumes but it isn’t long before things take a step further. You climb onto him, his greedy hands pulling your hips down, and you realise he’s more a man than a boy when you feel his tumescent member - with no signs of stopping.

Your want roars, like a lion trying to break out of its cage, fuelled by the liquid of the Gods you’d been ingesting over the past hour or two. Usually submissive to the powers of a man, weakness replaced with strength in the form of understanding what it felt like to be one of the many men you’d bedded as you gaze down at Jim; untouched by an older woman, and the blue in his eyes silently screamed baby.

Items of clothes are lost to allow for easy access, and you take him in full; the entire thickness of his erection stretching you out. You gasp and he grunts; the pair of you adjusting to how the other feels. You lean against his chest, bearing weight onto your hands, rolling your hips, and he lets out a moan of utter ecstasy.

“Does that feel good, baby? You like having your cock buried deep inside me?”

“Yes, mommy. S-s-so good. I’m so hard.”

Mommy? That was a new one. You were so used to calling men Daddy in the pursuit for the perfect fuck before your ex that you’d never thought about how it could possibly go the other way - it seems your body liked it, too.

You reach for his neck to rest a hand against his throat and played into his game. “You know you’re being so naughty right now. You have to do something for mommy or else I’ll need to punish you.”

“W-what is it? I’ll do anything for you.”

“Show mommy how she turns you on; fill her with your seed and give her your baby.”

Apparently, you struck a chord in him - like a secret fetish, an untapped desire - because he becomes overridden with lust, overpowering your body; turning you to putty, malleable in his hands; throwing you down on the bed and fucking you senseless.

Your climax was hard, and, apparently so was his; panting and moaning before unloading inside you and almost collapsing on top. His heart was beating furiously, breath evading his lungs. You’ve sobered up a little by now; the feeling of your skin on his far better than any other form of intoxication. Jim catches enough of a breath to plant a kiss on your neck before rolling his weight off you and onto the mattress.

“Wow.”

“Wow indeed, Jim Mason.”

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searchingwardrobes · 6 years

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Tortures of Hell, With Lower Prices

With everyone heading back to school, I thought I would bring back this ridiculous thing I wrote about CS back to school shopping at Walmart. I wrote this ages ago, long before Hope and the combining of the realms, so this isn’t canon compliant at all. If that’s going to bother you, then just skip this. I don’t hate Hope, chill people. Also can be read on Ao3

It should have been a simple errand. Run into Dark Star Pharmacy on the way home from Granny’s, school supply list in hand. Emma should have known that nothing could be simple where Killian was concerned.

“Five dollars for a bloody notebook!” Killian practically roared. “This is practically robbery, Swan! And I should know, I’m a pirate.”

“But, Daddy!” Evan, their seven year old argued. “It has Star Wars on the front!”

“It ought to be engraved with gold for that price,” Killian grumbled.

“Honey,” Emma argued gently, placing a hand on his arm, “We’ve bought school supplies here for the past four years. And every year, you complain.” Which shouldn’t have surprised her. All prices in this realm were outrageous to her 300 year old pirate.

“Well someone has to! They’re cheating the citizens of our town. Doesn’t Regina care about this?”

Emma refrained from rolling her eyes. “It’s the only place in town that carries school supplies, Killian. They can basically charge whatever they want.”

“Well, they aren’t taking advantage of this pirate anymore, I can tell you that.” Killian snatched the notebook from Evan’s hand and put it back on the shelf, despite the seven year old’s protests. He had five year old Briar Rose hand over the Hello Kitty folder and the sparkly pink pencil case.

“But Daddy!” the little girl pouted. Emma knew Killian was serious when his little girl’s trembling lower lip didn’t sway him.

“If the game is rigged in Storybrooke, we’ll simply go elsewhere, love.”

Emma should have insisted they buy the school supplies at Dark Star; it was Friday night, and school started on Monday. But after being married to Killian for the past nine years, Emma had learned that when he set his mind to something, he was all in. And when Killian Jones was all in, he delivered.

After putting the children down for the night, Emma crawled into their king size bed where Killian was sitting up with Emma’s laptop (which he still referred to as “the magic box”). “Did you know, Emma, that this is tax-free weekend? There’s no sales tax on back to school items through midnight Sunday.”

Emma chuckled as she curled herself into Killian’s side. “There’s never any tax in Storybrooke.”

Killian’s tongue stuck out of his mouth and his eye’s narrowed as he continued clicking. “I know that Swan, but there’s sales tax everywhere else. So this is the best time to shop outside town.” A grin suddenly spread across his face. “A-ha!”

Emma leaned over to look at the screen. “No, Killian, please no! Not there!”

Killian wrinkled his brow in confusion. “Why ever not, Swan? They have the lowest prices, do they not?” Emma groaned as she pulled the covers over her head. Her voice came muffled through the fabric. “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into, Jones.”

Killian chuckled. “Now who’s being overdramatic? How bad can it be? Tomorrow morning, we’ll all head there. It will be a nice family outing.”

Emma pulled the blanket away and stared at Killian incredulously. “You want to take the kids?”

He shrugged one shoulder at her. “Why not?”

Emma opened her mouth, then closed it. At first, she wanted to flat out say no. But then a mischievous grin spread across her face. It should have given Killian pause, but it didn’t.

“Sure, sweetheart. We’ll all go to Wal-Mart.”

***********************************************

The closest town with a Wal-mart wasn’t all that far from Storybrooke. It was only a 20 minute drive. Despite that, the kids still begged to set the DVD players up in the mini-van. Yes, Captain Hook had a mini-van. They had made do with the bug until child number three came along. Two car seats would barely fit in the bug; three were impossible. To Emma’s shock, Killian had actually been the one to choose the van. Black, of course.

“You know the rule,” Emma reminded the kids. “DVDs are only for long trips – an hour or more.” The kids grumbled and complained until Emma reminded them that they had to behave if they wanted to look at the toys or get a free cookie from the bakery. Emma drove while Killian messed with his phone.

“Have you heard of this app, Emma?” he asked her, waving the device. She shook her head and grinned. He always sounded like a kid with a new toy when he discovered the wonders of modern technology. “You scan your receipt, it searches other stores, and if anyone else has a lower price, they give you the money back!”

When they pulled into the parking lot, Emma groaned. “This place is packed! We’ll have to park a mile away from the store!”

Killian’s jaw dropped. “I’ve never seen a parking lot so huge!”

The kids all began talking at once as Emma pulled into a space. If her husband and kids were this excited about Wal-mart, they really needed to start getting out of Storybrooke more often. They all piled out of the mini-van. “Six, guys,” Emma told them. “Remember the number six. That’s the aisle we parked on.”

The five of them walked through the front doors of the massive store and headed to the rows of shopping carts. Killian tugged one loose, then turned to the kids. He turned frantic eyes to Emma. “Where’s Evan?”

“Seriously?” asked Emma, scanning the store. “We lost one already?”

Killian pointed half way across the store. “There! See him?”

Emma let out a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding. “Evan!” she called. “Get back over here!”

“But the sign says bakery,” Evan said, pointing at the neon sign. “You said we could get a cookie.”

“As a reward when we’re done,” Emma sighed. “Get back over here, and don’t wander away from us like that again.”

Evan grumbled and dragged his feet, but obeyed. Emma then turned to hoist three year old Ian into the seat at the front of the shopping cart. Ian shook his head vehemently. “I wanna walk!”

Emma took a deep breath and counted to three. They weren’t even all the way into the store yet! Why the hell had she agreed to this? “You’re too little to walk, honey. It’s a big store.”

Ian crossed his little arms and stuck out his lower lip. “Evan and Briar Rose get to walk. I a’ways too wittle!”

“Come on, Swan,” Killian argued, giving her his best puppy dog look. “Let him walk.”

Killian always caved when Ian complained about being little. Something about Liam always calling him “little brother.” Emma sighed in exasperation. “Fine! But if he takes off, you’re chasing after him!”

Killian took Ian’s hand and smiled down at him. Briar Rose jumped up to hang off the side of the cart like she always did at Storybrooke market. But since Ian wasn’t in the front seat, the cart began to tip. Emma and Killian grabbed it before it fell over on top of her. In her fear, Emma shouted at Briar Rose to watch what she was doing. It was the wrong thing to do. Their middle child was extremely sensitive and tender-hearted. Her lip immediately began to tremble and her green eyes filled up with giant crocodile tears. Before the wailing could begin, Killian scooped her up and began whispering in her ear. A tremulous smile crept across her face. Killian tickled her, and all was well. Another crisis averted.

“Shall we?” Killian asked her gallantly with a cocky grin. Emma narrowed her eyes at him, squeezing the handle of the shopping cart until her knuckles turned white. She would see that grin wiped off his face if it was the last thing she did in this stupid store.

They headed to the school supply section, which was pretty simple to find. All you had to do was follow the sounds of scolding parents, whining children, and general pandemonium. Killian muttered, “Bloody hell!” under his breath, and Emma couldn’t help tossing him her own cocky grin. “Why are Ziploc bags and Kleenex in the school supply section, Swan?”

“I asked my wife the same question,” complained a man to Killian’s left. “We didn’t have to buy all this crap when I was in school. Do you know what expo markers are?”

“Haven’t a clue.”

“Yeah,” the man muttered as he shouldered past a woman who was arguing with her twelve year old about a back pack, “neither do I.”

Out of curiosity, Killian grabbed one of the school supply lists from the nearby yellow display. He whistled under his breath at the list and was suddenly thankful for tiny Storybrooke Public School, K-12. Killian was suddenly shoved from behind, sending him tumbling into Emma, which caused the shopping cart she was maneuvering to crash into a plump woman in front of her.

“I am SO sorry!” Emma apologized.

The woman scoffed. “Well watch it next time, lady!”

Emma turned the cart (a difficult task, since one wheel wobbled ineffectually, not even touching the ground) down the paper aisle. Killian shifted Briar Rose to his other arm so he could pull the supply list out of his back pocket with his good hand.

“Spiral bound notebook; color of choice,” he read off for Emma.

“Which kid?”

Killian shuffled the two papers. “Um . . . both.”

Briar Rose scrambled down out of Killian’s arms, darting off between people and carts. Killian nervously kept his eyes trained on her dark bob with the giant pink bow. It had killed him and Emma at first to see her hair chopped off, but he had to admit the bob was adorable on Briar Rose and made her look uncannily like her grandmother. It was all the hairdresser could do to salvage Evan’s handiwork. They were acting out the end of Tangled, he had explained.

“I want this one, Mommy!” Briar Rose exclaimed, weaving through the mass of people. She held up her notebook of choice. “It’s Belle! And she’s reading a book in the library, just like in Storybrooke!”

Emma hurriedly tossed the notebook into the cart, glancing around nervously. But no one was paying a bit of attention to their daughter. Briar Rose scrambled into the cart, admiring the cover of her brand new notebook.

“Ok, Evan,” Emma asked. “What about you?” “I wanted Star Wars,” Evan whined. Emma and Killian bobbed and weaved amongst all the people, searching in vain for a Star Wars notebook. People behind them started grumbling for them to move along.

Emma straightened, pushing her hair out of her face in frustration. “Just pick something else, honey, ok?” She held up two notebooks. “Captain America or Ninja Turtles?”

Evan rolled his eyes. “Captain America.” Killian had a sudden urge to back-hand the boy. You would have thought Emma had handed him cow dung.

“I want one, too!” Ian begged, jumping up and down.

“Sure, little man,” Killian agree. “Which one would you like?”

Ian grabbed a notebook identical to his older brother’s and hugged it to his chest. Evan groaned, “That’s the one I picked! He’s always copying me!”

Emma rolled her eyes. The combined eye rolls of the Jones family was probably going to set some kind of record. Emma grabbed two other notebooks.

“What about this one Ian? It has cars on it? Or dinosaurs?”

Ian shook his head, clutching the notebook tighter. “Uh-uh. I want Cap’n ‘Merica.”

Emma glanced around the shelves. “What about this one? It has Captain America, too.”

Ian stomped both legs and scrunched his face up until it turned red. “Not Iron Man! Just Cap’n ‘Merica!”

Emma began rubbing her temple. She was definitely getting a headache. “What about this?” Killian asked behind her. “It’s Captain America’s shield.” Emma held Killian’s gaze, both of them holding their breath as the toddler contemplated the choice.

“kay,” Ian finally agreed, grabbing the notebook and tossing it into the cart. Emma and Killian both let out a relieved breath.

“Killian!” Emma cried out, giving his shoulder a shove. “Quick, 2nd-3rd grade lined paper! Behind you; there’s only one pack left!”

Killian whirled around, frantically scanning the shelves. There! He grabbed for it, but just as he did, so did another hand with long, sharp red fingernails. He looked up into the determined eyes of a frazzled mother. Killian sighed. Good form and all of that. He relinquished the paper.

Emma’s frustrated voice came from over his shoulder. “Killian!”

Just then, his salvation came in the form of a blue vest with a name tag that read “Brittany.” The crowd in the aisle seemed to magically part before her. She ripped open a cardboard box, setting out several new tablets of 2nd-3rd grade lined paper. Out of nowhere, dozens of other shoppers descended on them like locusts. Killian found himself in a struggle for the coveted paper, but finally, finally, he had some in his hands! “Pre-k/1st grade paper too, Killian!” Emma shouted behind him. After a brief struggle, he pushed himself out of the throng, paper in hand.

“My hero!” Emma teased, giving him a peck on the cheek.

Killian pulled the supply lists out of his pocket once again and groaned as he looked it over. At least it didn’t include the elusive expo markers, but they still had a long way to go.

“Okay, kids!” Emma said brightly. “On to the pencil aisle!”

Evan flung himself onto the floor, right there in the middle of the aisle. Killian looked around in a panic, expecting his son to be run over at any moment. “I want my cookie NOW!” he whined in the most annoying way imaginable.

“Get. Up.” Killian hissed between gritted teeth.

“Not only does he look just like you,” Emma quipped, “he inherited your flair for the dramatic.”

Killian glared at Emma, then nudged his oldest son with the toe of his boot. “Get off your arse, son. You’re making a spectacle of yourself.”

Evan groaned and did as his father asked. To Killian’s right, an older woman huffed and narrowed her eyes at Killian. “Well I never in all my days heard a father talk that way to a child,” she complained to her husband, loud enough for everyone around her to hear.

Emma grabbed Killian by the arm just as he opened his mouth to speak. “Don’t, Killian,” Emma said sternly as her husband clenched his jaw. “It isn’t worth it. Judging parents at Wal-mart is almost a national past time. Let it go.”

Killian sighed and rubbed his forehead. Now he was getting a head ache. Emma decided to have pity on him. Rubbing his arm she asked, “Why don’t I finish the list on my own? You can take the kids over to look at the toys.”

The kids all perked up at that. “Toys!” they all cried in unison. Briar Rose scrambled out of the cart, tossing her Princess Belle notebook heedlessly to the bottom. Killian grinned down at Emma. “I love you.”

She smirked back. “I know.”

Killian handed Emma the school supply list, Ian yanking impatiently on his arm. When he turned around, the older two had almost sprinted out of sight. “Evan! Briar Rose! Wait for me!” Killian jogged after them, scooping Ian up in his arms. He couldn’t believe the size of the toy section when they reached it. Toyland, Storybrooke’s lone toy store, wasn’t even as big as this one section of Wal-mart. Immediately, Killian faced a dilemma. Briar Rose wanted to look at the doll aisle. Evan wanted to look at the Lego sets. Ian wanted to look at the Thomas trains. Killian ran his hand wearily down his face. “Okay. Evan, you’re old enough to go over to the Legos by yourself I suppose. Just don’t go anywhere else. Ian, we’ll look at Thomas trains AFTER we look at dolls with your sister. She’s always having to do boy things, so it’s only fair.”

Ian, of course, stomped his little feet again in frustration. When Killian continued to tell him no, he sprinted down the aisle and around the corner. “Ian!” Killian yelled. He glanced back at Briar Rose, then down the end of the aisle where his three year old had disappeared. Growling in frustration, he scooped up his daughter and raced for the aisle that said “Thomas,” but when he got there . . . no Ian. His heart suddenly constricted in his chest. Where was he? And what would Emma say? “Ian! Ian!” he continued to shout as he raced up one aisle and down another. He finally found him in the last place he had thought to look – the Lego aisle, standing next to his big brother, both admiring a Lego set of the Millenium Falcon. Killian let out a shaky breath, setting Briar Rose down as his heart slowed its erratic beating.

But there was no rest for the weary, apparently. Evan turned suddenly to his father, legs crossed, hands cupping his privates. “I gotta pee. Now!”

Killian groaned. “Do you know where it is?”

“Yeah, I think.”

“Ok, well, run in that direction. You too, Briar Rose. Ian and I will be right behind you.”

Killian turned to find that his three year old had turned into a helpless puddle on the floor. “Nooo!” he wailed. “Toys!” Killian picked him up, but the child’s limbs dangled and dragged on the floor. How did toddlers will themselves to become heavy when having a tantrum? Killian hoisted Ian over one shoulder, still kicking and screaming as he raced down the aisle. When he came out into the large center aisle, Evan and Briar Rose were nowhere to be seen. Thankfully, it only took him a moment to find the sign that said “Restroom.” He ran as fast as he could in that direction, following the signs until he ended up in front of the men’s room just as Evan was exiting. Once again, Killian found himself looking around frantically.

“Where’s your sister?” “I dunno,” Evan said with a shrug of his shoulders. Killian wanted to back-hand him for the second time that day. Didn’t he know Briar Rose was a helpless five year old girl?

“Well – think son! When did you see her last?”

“She got distracted by Zootopia. On the TVs.”

Killian raced back out into the main part of the store.

“Look, Daddy, Star Wars!” Killian looked behind him, frustrated to see Evan looking at DVDS.

“I don’t have time for this Evan! We lost your sister!” Killian stomped back over to Evan, grabbing him by the elbow and dragging him away from the DVDS. As Killian turned back around, he saw the same older couple from earlier. The woman was muttering and giving him the most condescending look, but at that point, he could really care less. He had to find Briar Rose! She was such an adorable little thing; what if someone had grabbed her? He saw the movie Evan had mentioned, but there was a whole row of dozens of televisions playing the same thing. Finally, he heard the sound of crying. Ahead of him, at the end of an aisle stood Briar Rose, turning frantically in circles. Killian raced to her, falling to his knees and enveloping his little girl in a hug, managing to keep hold of the boys in the process.

“Anything I need to know?” came a familiar voice from behind them.

Killian stood to face Emma, holding tight to all three children. “Yes, Swan,” Killian growled. “We’re leaving. NOW.” He deposited Ian in the seat at the front of the cart, ignoring the child’s protests as he buckled him in.

“Have a rough time?” Emma asked, trying to keep a straight face.

“This place is worse than torture in hell, Swan!” Killian snapped. “And I should know!”

Emma scoffed. “Please, Killian, don’t exaggerate. Besides, you were in the underworld, not hell.”

“Well I’d rather face Hades a million times over than endure this place one second longer. Come on children, don’t dawdle.”

All three of them began to protest: “But what about our cookies?” “We didn’t get to look at the toys at all!” “Thomas trains!”

“NO!” Killian cut them off firmly, raising his good hand in the air. “I lost each of you –“

“You did?” Emma asked, but Killian continued without even acknowledging the question.

“ – got knocked over by who knows how many people, had to endure more whining from the three of you than any father should have to endure, and there’s a lady in her somewhere who’s probably calling an orphanage as we speak because she thinks I’m an unfit parent.”

“Children’s services, Killian, not an orphanage.”

“Whatever. Let’s pay for this rubbage and get the hell out of here.”

Killian turned the dilapidated cart awkwardly towards checkout, the children for once completely silent.

************************************************

An hour later, Killian sat in a booth at McDonald’s his head resting wearily against Emma’s shoulder. The kids had acted like total brats at Wal-mart, but they were all starving by the time they left the store, and they hadn’t gotten the cookies, after all. Storybrooke didn’t have a McDonald’s either, and Emma and Killian felt like Wal-mart had been just as much torture for the children as it had been for them. Besides, after Killian’s outburst they had been perfect angels.

“Swan, next year, just tell me to shut up and buy the damn school supplies at Dark Star.”

Emma chuckled, running her fingers through Killian’s dark hair. The children were burning off all their energy on the playground. Hopefully, they would all sleep on the trip home. Emma could have told Killian “I told you so,” but instead, she just kissed the top of his head. Killian’s phone dinged and Emma picked it up from where it sat on the table. She giggled when she saw what it was. She stuck the phone in front of Killian’s face. “Look how much you got back with savings catcher, honey.”

“Bloody hell,” Killian groaned, slumping forward to rest his forehead on the table, “you’ve got to be kidding me!”

“Nope,” Emma replied, still laughing, “we got back a whopping twenty-nine cents. They say they’ll transfer it to a Wal-mart gift card.”

Killian lifted his head and scowled at Emma. She leaned over and began massaging his shoulders. Leaning even closer, she whispered in his ear, “You know, I did pick up a little something after I got all the school supplies. Something for me to wear . . . tonight.”

Killian suddenly sat up eagerly, all smiles. “Really?”

Emma withdrew a Wal-mart bag from her purse and dangled it teasingly in front of him. Killian snatched it out of her hands and peeked inside. His face fell. “That’s cruel, Swan.”

Emma’s laughter was spilling out now in hiccupping gasps. Briar Rose came bouncing over. “Mommy got you a present?” she asked, looking inside the bag. She pulled out the pink grandma nightgown. “Ooohh, Mommy, pretty! It’s got kitty cats!”

Emma doubled over laughing now, tears streaming down her face. Killian waggled a finger at her, a cocky grin spreading across his face. “Just wait until tonight, Swan. I know how to wipe that grin right off your face.” As hideous as the nightgown may be, Killian knew it would look rather fetching in a heap on the ground after he had removed it from his Swan’s lovely figure.

Emma wiped the tears of laughter from her eyes. She knew this wasn’t exactly the fun Killian had envisioned back in Neverland, but her husband versus the modern world was an endless source of amusement for Emma. She was suddenly eager for the holiday season.

She couldn’t wait to introduce Killian to lay-away.

#cs ff #future fic #no longer canon compliant #back to school humor #fluff #ridiculous shenanigans #daddy!killian #mommy!emma #walmart #my shopping with the captain series

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