#next time i play it i’m gonna play as a girl again and romance emma <3

[lesbiancressidacowper]

i cannot believe i played all three high school story books romancing MICHAEL the first time. girl why did you do that caleb is sooooo much better omg it’s ridiculous actually

[let-it-raines]

I Hope We Never See October (3/?)

When his personal life and football career go up in flames, Killian Jones escapes England for America, finding seclusion in Martha’s Vineyard in order to hide from his demons. It’s a fresh start, or at the very least a paused moment in his life, and all he needs is a few months alone to allow his heart to heal. He doesn’t count on meeting Emma Swan.

Emma’s life depends on tourists who come to the island every summer. It’s how she makes her money working in restaurants and clubs across the vineyard, but every year, she cannot wait until autumn comes and her life returns to normal. She especially cannot wait for Killian Jones to leave.

Rating: Mature

a/n: Not gonna lie, I forget I'm writing this story, remember, and then the moment I sit down to write, I get called away. But here's part three!

AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: One | Two | Three

-/-

His head is pounding. It’s been awhile since it has pounded like this. Usually, it’s from a lack of sleep from the nightmares or the stress. This morning, he knows it’s from the rum. He did everything he could to cancel it out – coffee, water, food, medicine – but his head is still pounding. He is a bloody lightweight now.

Huh.

Killian is making it sound like that’s a bad thing, when really, it’s good. A week ago he was standing with a beer bottle in his hand early in the morning tempted to drown his entire day away. Last night, he made it the entire day without wanting to get pissed and only had two small drinks to toast his friends goodbye.

That’s progress.

This hangover, though, damn. It’s a sign he’s making progress, but damn.

Or he’s simply getting old, which is something else he doesn’t want to think about.

“Fuck,” Killian moans, pressing his fingers against his temples as he opens his eyes. His neck is also killing him, probably from how he slept on this damn couch all night. He should have driven home, but he didn’t trust himself to. Besides, Ariel had offered the couch before she went to bed.

Emma had too.

He’d nearly left after she offered. She was likely only doing it because she assumed Ariel or Eric already offered. He gets the feeling the woman doesn’t like him, which usually isn’t something that happens with him, and that intrigues him. It also makes him realize how much of an asshole he is.

How has he gotten to a point in his life where he expects women to always fancy his company?

Killian sits up, his muscles aching, and slowly, he rises from the couch. The lights in the house are all off, and he knows he can leave now with no one knowing the wiser that he slept over, that he felt bad enough to not be able to drive home. Or maybe that he didn’t want to spend another night in that giant house by himself.

The floor creaks beneath him with each step he takes, but no one seems to stir. Killian finds a notepad and pen in the kitchen and quickly scribbles a note to Ariel and Eric. He said his goodbyes to them last night, and he’ll talk to them on the phone at some point today. He doesn’t need to stick around to say another goodbye this morning. It’s still early enough that the sun hasn’t risen, and they won’t be up for hours. Killian finishes his note, grabs his wallet and keys from the counter, and heads out the front door to his car. It takes him a moment to find his car, to remember what said of the road they drive on over here, but he eventually spots it across the street under a large tree when a light from the house turns on.

Killian turns to see it’s coming from an upstairs window, and Emma Swan is standing between the curtains. He nods, and he swears he sees the slightest nod in return before the curtains rustle and she turns off the light.

She didn’t get in until two this morning, and she’s up at six. How the hell is she functioning?

Then again, how is he functioning?

Killian’s phone buzzes in his pocket, and after he gets in his Jeep, he checks the message.

Elsa Jones: The girls say thank you for their new Leggo set. My bare feet do not.

Killian laughs and puts his phone back in his pocket. That’s how he’s functioning. He may have flown across an ocean, but he’d never leave Ally and Sophia. They’ve already lost enough, and Liam will have his head, someway and somehow, if he doesn’t do everything he can to make sure all his girls are happy.

To make sure Killian is happy too.

“Bloody hell,” Killian whispers to himself as he cranks the engine, “it’s too early to be thinking like this.”

He should be able to have at least a little reprieve from the voices in his head.

-/-

Killian doesn’t leave the house much over the next few days. He doesn’t have reason to. He’s got everything he could possibly need in the house, including his own private stretch of beach that he walks along a few times a day, but the repetition of nothing begins to drive him mad. He trains in almost the same way as he did when he was playing, and while that takes up a good portion of his day, it’s not enough to keep him occupied. He reads the books that the owners of the house left behind but finds it’s mostly romance novels he can’t stomach. For a day or two, he binges Netflix, leaving a permanent imprint of his ass in the couch cushions, but there’s only so much time he can spend staring at screens.

Elsa and the girls call more than once a day with them being on summer holidays, and he gets a call or two from Scarlet, who finally had the bullocks to ask Belle out to dinner. That was good to hear since Killian has been giving Will shit about doing that for years now, and it’s good to see that people are moving on with their lives.

He’s not, not really, but he’s not trying to move on so much as he’s trying to not be a total disaster every day.

Sitting in this house alone all day every day isn’t helping. Why did anyone think sending him to be alone would be a good idea in the wake of his brother’s death? He knows it’s more so the scum English tabloids would leave him alone and he could fix his public image so he doesn’t go broke before he’s forty from loss of sponsorships and possible opportunities to get involved in the league, but damn, this was a bad idea.

At least he’s not drinking himself to sleep anymore.

Or drinking himself awake. He thinks that feat is slightly more impressive.

Killian puts his bottle of water down and opens the door that leads to the deck. It’s cool out today, the sun hidden behind the clouds, and since he cannot stay here anymore, he decides he’ll go for a run. It’s been years since he ran outside and not on a pitch or a treadmill, but maybe it’ll be a good distraction. He’s noticed more people filling into the houses around him, the summer tourists showing up in large droves now, so at the very least he can pass time watching people while hoping no one watches him.

It takes him little time to get dressed, lace up his trainers, and pop headphones in his ears before he’s out the door. The roads aren’t flat around his house, so he drives the Jeep a few miles until he finds smoother, less crowded ground. Maybe it’s a way to keep him from running that little bit longer, but mostly he knows his knees need the flat surfaces right now.

He really has gotten old, hasn’t he?

Eventually, he finds what looks like a good path behind a long stretch of beach, finds a place to park, and then he starts running.

It’s horrible, which was expected, but he does it anyway. There are families lining the beaches, music playing from speakers and phones, and he watches as boats skip out on the water. Maybe he should rent a boat for a weekend and take it out. It’d be nice to be out on the water again. He hasn’t been since Liam’s death, the fear of something similar happening to him despite the unlikeliness, but maybe one day while he’s here. It’s not as if he has anything better to do.

Killian runs until the endorphins kick in and then again until his legs get tired. He’s an idiot, however, because he doesn’t think to turn around to his Jeep.

Bloody hell.

He stops and reaches his hands over his head, stretching out his shoulders, and looks to see what’s around him. It’s mostly beach, but there are several restaurants and shops a few blocks down. He notices the familiar Blue Dog Tavern sign and the long deck filled with their outside seating. That means he’s minutes away from a populated area of shops and restaurants where he could cool down and catch his breath, but he still walks toward the Blue Dog. There’s another diner around here he went to that was horrible, and he doesn’t feel like taking the chance again. He’s still over his phase of twenty-four-hour diners. He doesn’t think he can handle more sticky tables.

Killian cools down on the walk to the restaurant, taking in the people walking along the sidewalk, and he dodges them until he’s inside and the cool air is hitting against his skin. It’s past the prime of the lunch rush, so the place is mostly empty. He thinks of going to the bar again, but as he wants to stay as out of the way as possible, he asks the hostess to seat him at a booth in the corner.

“Is someone coming to meet you?” she asks, smacking her gum as she hands him a menu.

“I’m afraid not. Just me today.”

She smiles, popping her gum again, and leans forward, casually popping a button on her shirt. Killian tries not to snicker at the obvious attempt, mostly because she is attractive, but the last thing he needs is to burn more bridges at one of the few places in towns he likes. “Well, if you want company, all you have to do is come find me. I’m Marina.”

He raises his brow. “Seems like you were born to work by the ocean then.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because your name is Marina.”

She cocks her head to the side and laughs. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing, love.” Killian smiles and nods toward the front. “I believe you’re needed.”

She jumps and walks away, obviously putting a little sway in her hips when she moves, and in another life, he’d ask her to join him for lunch and meet her after her shift. He nearly does it now, but the man he’s been and the man he’s trying to be war with each other in his mind.

No burning bridges, he reminds himself. He’s done enough of that in his lifetime.

He orders water and coffee and avoids eye contact with Marina as much as possible, especially when she keeps finding ways to come by his table despite there being no other customers in his section. He texts Will and Rob, sends Elsa some pictures of the beach to show the girls, responds to Ariel about him doing another video conference with a hospital back home, and then he puts his phone away and tries to focus on his meal.

Unsurprisingly, it does not take a hell of a lot of focus to eat a sandwich and chips.

The music coming over the intercoms keeps him occupied for awhile, so does the television hanging over the bar until someone changes it to ESPN, and eventually Killian starts fidgeting for headphones and something to do while he waits for his meal to settle and drinks another cup of coffee. He needs to start the trek back to his Jeep, but that’s the last thing he wants to do.

“Heather, I get that you don’t want to be here, but your uncle and your parents want you here. And you either need to take it up with them or start doing some actual work.”

Killian recognizes that voice, and he sinks in his booth. He was hoping to get away with not running into her here today, if only to save himself the headache. He doesn’t have any paper money on hand, so he can’t pay and leave, and he imagines there’s very little chance he’ll avoid her when she’s walking right toward him with Heather, his server from last week.

She’s in those bloody jean shorts again. They barely cover anything and hug her ass to show it off, and the blouse she’s wearing is fitted to her skin. Her hair is down, hitting past midway on her back, and she looks just as gorgeous as she has every other time he’s seen her…which is exactly why he needs her to not notice him.

So, of course, she does.

Right after she teaches Heather how to clean the tables, she looks up and over at Killian, raises both brows, and walks toward him with her arms crossed beneath her chest. “Anything I can help you with today?”

“The check may be nice, Swan. Lovely to see you again.”

“Uh-huh.” She looks over her shoulder, holds up a signal toward Killian’s server, and he hustles to the back, presumably to get the check. “I can recommend other restaurants in the area. This place is great, but I promise there are better ones.”

He shrugs. “I like the food and how calm it is during off hours. Are you enjoying your house with no Fishers in it?”

“I don’t mind when they come to stay.”

It’s a lie if he’s ever heard one. Killian points to his temple and taps. “I know this may surprise you, but I’m actually quite perceptive.”

Her smile is tight, and she tucks her hair behind her ears. “The Fishers are great landlords, and I can’t complain.”

“I’m not going to tell them what you’re saying, love.”

She smiles again, and he can tell she’s still faking it for him. “All I can say is I’m glad not to have strange men scaring me in my kitchen at two in the morning. Now they simply show up at my work.”

He lifts his glass. “It’s good food, and you’re right, I don’t know of many other reliable eateries around here. Some of them seem a little too…made for tourists.”

“And the Blue Dog Tavern doesn’t? I mean, come on. We have a giant blue animated dog cutout outside. We’re on all those lists of ‘Places in Martha’s Vineyard you have to visit.’ We’re made for tourists like you.”

“I am not a tourist.”

“Says the man who is renting one of the big houses out in Edgartown and staying here for the summer. I’m guessing you go to the beach and lounge around the pool and go through way too many of the bad books the owners of the house have on their shelves.”

Killian huffs and crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back in the booth. That was a little too spot on. “How do you know where I’m staying? Wait, no. Ariel, right?”

“Yeah,” Emma smiles, and God, it feels like a hell of an accomplishment to get her to smile. “She went on and on about the great Killian Jones.”

“Ah, so you know who I am then?” He leans forward and waggles his brows, flashing his brightest smile.

“Yeah, a rich British tourist who is friends with my landlords.” Someone calls her name from across the restaurant, and Emma holds one finger up. “Your check will be with you soon. I’ll ask Marina to give you some other restaurant recommendations on your way out. You’ll get sick of this place soon enough.”

“I’m perfectly happy with it, Swan.”

She shrugs and walks away, and Killian chuckles to himself. He doesn’t understand this woman at all, but she intrigues him.

He knows that’s a dangerous game to play.

Killian gets the check, pays it, and before he can escape, Marina corners him to give him more recommendations. She ends up veering into bars and clubs on the island and the surrounding towns, asking him if he wants her to show him around, but he declines and takes the list of places. Maybe he’ll check them out, but the last thing he needs is to go to a club. A bar, maybe, but not a club. He’s learned that there’s a hell of a difference.

He’s also learned that he’s bored to tears in this place, and no amount of calls to Ariel and Elsa can solve that boredom. He finds himself googling pre-season training information, checking up on mates and rivals, and while that’s a bit of a slip-up, he does manage to still stay away from looking himself up. He never used to have the urge to google himself or to read any of the tabloids, but ever since his retirement, he’s been curious. Were people sad? Happy? Did he leave any kind of lasting impact? Or did they all just see him as the drunk, washed up old man with a dirtied past?

That is a path he absolutely cannot go down, and since he’s already run a half marathon today, he decides to shower and get dressed to go to one of the places Marina recommended. If his time alone doesn’t start to get less depressing, he thinks he’s going to have to fly back to London and bother Elsa and the girls until they kick him out. He’ll pay for the remaining time on the house, but he won’t be staying there.

While the sun sets, Killian drives down new roads on the island, going to different towns and neighborhoods to see what others are doing, before ending up at a bar near his house. Marina said it was a spot for locals with good food and a quiet energy, so he doubts Marina has ever stepped foot into it. Killian pushes open the old oak door, and the lights inside are dimmed, the music quiet. There’s a guy playing guitar in the corner hidden between two pillars, and Killian finds himself sitting at the opposite end of the bar on a stool that’s cushion squeaks when he sits down.

Charming.

“You eating, drinking, or both?” The bartender asks, wiping his hands off with a cloth.

“Eating. Have any recommendations?”

“You have an objection to seafood?” the old man asks.

“Not a one.”

“Good. I’ll fix you up with the daily catch.”

Killian nods as the man makes his way through a door behind the bar, and then Killian swivels on his stool, looking around the place. He doesn’t know about the food yet, but Marina was right. It definitely has a quiet energy to it. There are people in nearly every booth and at every table, but there’s a hushed tone except for a laugh in the booth nearest him. His eyes are drawn there, and to both his surprise and horror, he finds Emma Swan with her head tilted back with laughter.

Fuck.

She’s definitely going to think he’s stalking her, and as hungry and bored as he is, he’s still tempted to leave. So of course, that’s when Emma stops laughing and looks directly at him.

Bollocks. Utter bollocks.

She blinks and stares at him a little longer, her brows raising before falling, and then she turns back to whoever is sitting in the booth with her. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see her arms moving, but he turns on the stool until he can see her no longer, wishing at the very least he had a water to nurse.

“Hiya. Come sit in our booth with us.”

Killian twists and looks at the brunette who’s now sitting next to him. “Pardon?”

She sticks out her hand, and he takes it, shaking it. “Ruby Lucas. You’re Killian Jones, the – ”

“There’s no need to – ”

“ – the guy who scared Emma half to death at her house in the middle of the night,” Ruby completes, grinning like the cat who ate the canary. “And I must say, you are much more attractive than she described.”

“So she talked about me then?”

“In her own special Emma way.” Ruby tilts her head back toward their booth. “And in my own special Ruby way, I’m inviting you to eat dinner with us. It’s me, Emma, and this super wholesome woman named Mary Margaret who will take you home and bake you cookies while asking you about your childhood because she had a good one of those.”

Killian chuckles, cheeks still flushed from him thinking Ruby knew who he was earlier – he is a pompous, entitled ass obviously – and from being invited to their table. “I couldn’t intrude.”

“I insist that you do.”

He likes her, he decides. She’s stunning and funny with no filter, but she reminds him too much of a dirtier version of Anna. It’s a rather peculiar comparison, but it’s true. It’s also half the reason he agrees to switch tables, rising from his stool and walking toward the booth. The other half a reason is the blonde woman with her face pressed into her forearms against the table top.

She looks beyond thrilled for him to be joining them.

“Oh, Emma, you were right, he is handsome!”

Emma bangs her head into the table as who he presumes is Mary Margaret smiles at him from across the booth. Killian slides onto the seat and elbows Emma’s side before patting her shoulder. “It’s alright, darling. I told all my mates you were beautiful, so we’re even.”

“Go to hell.”

He laughs, grinning at her, and slowly, she peels herself off the table. “Just so you know, I’m only here because Marina recommended it.”

“Remind me to fire her in the morning.”

“So,” Mary Margaret interrupts, tucking her short hair behind her ear, “tell us about yourself, Killian. Where are you from? What do you do for work? How long are you planning on being here?”

“Good God, Marg,” Emma sighs, slumping down, “give the man some room to breathe.”

“What? I’m curious.”

“You’re nosy is what you are,” Emma corrects.

“Aren’t we all?” Killian shuffles in his seat, hoping they move on to another subject, but when Mary Margaret turns to him, he knows she isn’t one to forget. “So, how long are you staying?”

“I have the keys to the house I’m renting until the first of October, but I imagine I’ll leave sooner.”

“And why’s that?” she asks.

Killian shrugs as the man behind the bar drops off a glass of water at the table and tells Killian his food will be ready in ten minutes. “I’m afraid no matter how nice it is here, I don’t know many people. I miss the people I’m closest to. A man can only spend so much time alone.”

“Then why’d you book a house for so long?”

“I needed to get away.”

“Yeah, but – ”

“Marg,” Emma interrupts, placing her hand over her friend’s, “please. You don’t have to know everything about him. Not everyone wants to reveal their entire life to complete strangers.”

She’s right. He doesn’t. But for some inane reason, he doesn’t think he’d mind revealing most of his life to her.

He has obviously lost his damn mind.

But it’s nice to spend a night with other people, to be included in the conversation, and while Mary Margaret and Ruby are delightful, he finds Emma captures his attention, not that this surprises him.

What does surprise him, however, is how much friendlier she is in this environment. He knows it’s her friends and not him, and maybe the glass of wine she had with dinner, but it’s nice to see her laugh freely and blush when Ruby tells stories of Emma he cannot imagine knowing otherwise. He can’t imagine Emma ever scaling a building to break into an ex’s apartment to get her favorite sweater back, but then again, that seems exactly like something she would do if she wanted it badly enough.

He fancies her.

He has no business fancying her, none at all, but when he ends up driving all three women to their homes because Ruby and Mary Margaret had too much to drink and Emma can’t drive the stick shift in Ruby’s car, he accepts Emma’s invitation inside for a cup of coffee.

He also accepts her invitation upstairs into her bed.

To hell with the consequences and burning bridges. He’ll deal with those in the morning when he isn’t so enticed by the trail of freckles running down Emma’s bare stomach.

-/-

-/-

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[thekitteninlove]

Okay, so i wrote another fanfic. This one is much longer, 3000+ words or 6 pages. I put some more romance in it too, since i realized the other ones kinda lack that and i want more romance. This is my way of coping with my love for Dean

Characters: Dean Tweedle

Warning: R 18+

Title: Teacher's pet, part 1

I was in the schoolyard with my friend, Maya. We were on a break, so we decided to just take a walk outside.

“So, do you wanna go to the club tonight?” she asked me

“Again? Didn’t you go to one yesterday? When do you sleep?”. Our personalities were completely different. Unlike me, she was an extrovert who liked to party. She was always cheerful, so her presence lightened my mood.

“Well, you know, during classes or after I get back from school. So, what do you say? Wanna come?”

“Nope, you know I don’t like those kinda places. The music is too damn loud. I’m gonna go deaf in there. Besides which I have to study for the finals”

“Ugh, we still have plenty of time. You should take a break and relax sometimes. You know how the saying goes, all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.”

“I think I take enough breaks. I have my own way of having fun. I’m worried that if I take more breaks I’ll fall behind in my studies and I don’t want to disappoint the teachers”. Actually, I think I have a fear of disappointing them. I wonder if this fear has a name.

“Right. How could I forget you’re teacher’s pet whose hobby is to please the teachers.”

“You’re saying that like it’s a bad thing, but my future is at stake here”

“Oh, come on, don’t be so dramatic. It’s not like your future will be destroyed if you spend a bit more time socializing. How about getting a boyfriend? Love will definitely make you happier.”

Love? I immediately thought of Dean and my heart started beating faster. I don’t know when I started having those feelings for him. It feels like it happened gradually. The feelings kept getting stronger and stronger. I began to look forward to his lessons, although I don’t particularly enjoy history. I think I love him, but he only sees me as his student, nothing more. He’s the perfect teacher, always going out of his way to help his students. He’s out of my league. I doubt he’d even consider a girl like me a potential partner. But I can’t find anyone else I’d like to date. Most of the boys in my class were acting like 5 year olds. During breaks, the classroom becomes a battlefield because they start fighting over trivial stuff, which is why we’re outside. They put bugs in girls’ bags or they play with paper airplanes. They’re high schoolers, not primary school kids, but they don’t seem to have matured much since then. There are a few other boys who act their age, but their taken. Figures. I sighed.

“I noticed how you’ve been looking at Dean” Maya said after a moment with a grin on her face. “You look at him like he’s the love of your life”

“What!? No way! Was I that obvious? Has anyone else noticed that? I don’t want him to know that. That’ll be embarrassing.” I felt my cheeks redden. I didn’t realize I was letting my emotions show on my face. I hope he didn’t notice that

“Emma, you should tell him your feelings or you’ll regret you never did that. What’s there to lose? At least give it a go. You can’t know what someone else is feeling unless you ask them.”

“Ugh, i… I guess you have a point. I’ll try to tell him how I feel” I was a bit reluctant and scared that he was going to reject me and break my heart.

“You’ll not ‘try’, you’ll do it. And don’t say ‘tie me up, teacher’. Confess like a normal person. ‘I love you’ is all you need to say to convey your feelings”

“Hey, why would you think I’d say that?” I was shocked at what she said and I tried to push away the thoughts of Dean tying me up and having his way with me

“Because that’s how masochists confess their love, duh” she said matter-of-factly

“I’m not a masochist”. Well, I guess I was a bit, but I wasn’t going to admit that.

“Uh-huh, sure thing.” She said in a teasing voice

Dammit, I need to change the subject. “So, uh… how’s it going with your boyfriend? I’ve seen him stealing your bag many times just to get your attention. He’s so childish, how can you stand that?”

“Well, he can get annoying at times, but I still like him. What I like the most about him is that he has a great sense of humor. I always laugh at his jokes”

That’s true. I really like his jokes too. I, on the other hand, suck at telling jokes. People think I’m serious when I make them. I should just give up. I like him, but he certainly isn’t my type.

The sound of the bell signaled the end of the break, so we made our way back to class. Hopefully, they didn’t destroy anything.

After the lectures were over I went to the library. I was still thinking about what my friend said. How will I go about it? What if he rejects me? I heard about the broken heart syndrome. It’s like a heart attack, but it can be caused by a sudden rush of extreme emotions. I hope he won’t break my heart, figuratively and literally speaking. I’m so anxious I can hardly concentrate on this book. Next time I get the chance to speak with him privately I need to tell him I love him. But he’s so busy. I wish I had more opportunities to talk to him. I doubt I could find a man as good as him anywhere else. He’s the only one I desire. I wonder why I feel so attracted to him. I’ve read in a book that researchers study animal behavior to explain certain behaviors in humans. It says that people are looking for a mate whose genes would increase the chance of survival of their offspring. Maybe I subconsciously want Dean’s genes. But is there all there is to it? I was so distracted by my thoughts I couldn’t hear the footsteps behind me.

“The library is closed. You’re not supposed to be here” said a stern voice behind me

“Whoa!” I exclaimed in surprise and turned around to find Dean standing there with an amused expression on his face. When I looked toward the windows I realized it was already dusk. Time passes so fast

“It’s closing time.” He corrected himself. “You need to go home”

“Oh, right” I was about to pack my things and go, but then I realized that this might be the opportunity I was looking for. “Um, I need to tell you something” I was starting to get nervous

“Yes? Do you need help with something?” he asked

His kindness warmed my heart. This was one of the things I loved about him. “Uh, i… I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately” I was quite anxious, but I tried to keep my voice steady. “but I’ve only recently realized that i…” I felt that my heart was about to explode from all the intense emotions I was feeling. Nervousness. Love. Excitement. I felt a surge of adrenaline, like I just drank coffee. Never before have I felt this way. It was something new. I felt like I was suffocating, like I was drowning in my own feelings. “I love you” I finally said it and looked at him expectantly

He opened his eyes wide. It was clear he wasn’t aware of this. Silence fell between us and after a moment that seemed to last forever he said in a confused voice “Are you sure? I’m not as good as you think I am”

Huh? He’s less confident than I thought he was. Well, that fine by me. He doesn’t have to be that confident for me to like him. “I think I am and I want to get to know you better. So would you like to go on a date?” I was feeling hopeful. He didn’t reject me straight away. It seems like I might just have a chance with him.

“Well,” he smiled “if you think you can handle me then I accept your invitation. I also want to get to know my pet better”

Wow! I can’t believe it! He said yes! YES, YES, YES! Damn, I’m so lucky. This is the luckiest day of my life. How come this hunk doesn’t have a girlfriend? Well, who cares about that, he’s mine now. I felt like dancing with joy.

He began to close the distance between us. “I will teach you about real love”. He lifted my chin up with his index finger and I looked up into his beautiful dark grey eyes. My heart began to beat faster as he moved closer and then pressed his lips against mine. I felt a rush of excitement at the sensation of his warm lips brushing against mine. I didn’t expect this. He then licked my lips and I slightly parted them to let him slip his tongue in. Our tongues coiled around each other and I felt the need to move even closer to him. I put my hands in his hair to deepen the kiss and he put his arms on my hips and pushed me against the bookshelves. He then pressed his body against mine and I let out a small gasp.

“You’re my pet. I won’t let anyone else have you. I’m your only master, do you understand?”

“Yes, master” I don’t want anyone else but him. My heart belongs to him.

“Good girl.” He smiled and kissed me again. This time he was more passionate than before. I ran my hands through his hair as he removed his gloves and slowly slid one of his hands up my outer thigh and used the other to massage my lower back.

“Mmmh” I felt myself gradually becoming hotter. I want him to do more. I want his genes in me. I hope we won’t get caught, but by now most of the students and staff should’ve left. He’s usually among the last ones to leave. He broke away from the kiss and started nibbling my neck, while his hands slid under my skirt and took off my undies, then I felt his hand rub me between my legs. I was trying not to make much noise in case there were still people in the school, but it was getting hard to control my voice and I let out a moan. “Ahh, Dean, I want you in” I was breathing hard and tightly gripping his hair. He slowly inserted two fingers in me and moved them in and out. At this point I couldn’t think straight as I pushed myself against his hand wanting more. “Ohh, I love you, Dean. I want you so badly”. He then used his other hand to take off his pants and underwear, took out a condom from his pocket and put it on.

“Put your legs around me, I’ll hold you” he said as he put his hands on my hips to hold me up

I did as he said and then he began to insert his shaft little by little in me. He tried not to move too much so that I could adjust to it. I put my hands on his back and held him tightly to me. My heart was beating wildly in my chest. I’d be surprised if he didn’t hear it. My desire for him overcame my anxiety and I began to move my hips back and forth. He then gripped my hips more tightly and began to move too. I was digging my nails into his back, moaning and calling his name. “Ahhh, I love you” I said in between breaths. I could hear him moaning close to my ear, which made me even more aroused. I then felt his warm and wet tongue on my neck and a bit of pain as he bit it. “Oh~, Dean~”. I felt myself getting closer and closer to the climax. He began moving faster and I could feel he was starting to lose the last bit of control he had on his body.

“Ohhh, you’re… mmh… such a… haa… naughty pet” he managed to say between moans “for tempting me… aah… I’ll… nnnh… punish you” he then bit my neck again and I moaned out his name as I arched my back and came. His movements became erratic and he soon came after me as he moaned my name in my ear.

We were breathing hard and it took a while until we regained our composure and got dressed.

“We need to clean ourselves, so we can go to my place to take a bath if you want to. I know you live farther away and you’re sweaty. You’ll catch a cold if you stay for too long outside like this” he said

It was nice of him to suggest this and I agreed to his proposal. I needed to clean myself. ASAP

It only took a few minutes to reach his apartment. After he turned on the water for the bath we sat down at the table to eat some food. This feels like a dream. I can’t believe this actually happened. I didn’t think he’d do this. Dum warned me that he was a corrupted teacher, but I didn’t believe him. But now I see he’s not as perfect as I imagined him to be. Although I don’t mind it. It felt better than I imagined it would be like. I felt my cheeks grow hot as I remembered what we did. To think he’d do something like that… Curiosity got the better of me and I asked him “Why did you agree to date me and why…” I trailed off trying to find the right words “why did you touch me like that?”

He stopped eating and turned his gaze to me. “I’ve had my sights set on you for a long time now. But I’m a teacher and hitting on a student would be considered outrageous. I was relieved to hear that you were feeling the same way about me. I was starting to worry that I needed to wait until you graduated to confess my love to you. Although…” he paused “we’ll have to keep this a secret. The others might jump to some false conclusions and I don’t want that. I care about my reputation. So could you keep it a secret?”

I was a bit disappointed that we had to keep this a secret, but as long as I could stay by his side I was happy. “Sure thing” I responded

“Great. I think the bath is almost ready, so let me spoil you for all your hard work”

We went to the bathroom, where he started taking off his clothes one by one. I watched him strip taking in his muscular body. Mmh, lookin’ good there, teach’. Looks like someone’s going to the gym. I heard he knows martial arts. Perhaps because he felt like I was staring at him he looked at me and grinned.

“Aren’t you going to undress?”

Oh, right, I should do it too. After we took off our clothes we went to soak in the warm water. The bathtub was large enough for both of us, so we sat across from each other. Ugh, it feels a bit awkward. The strained silence was broken by his voice.

“They say that actions speak louder than words. I want to praise you for being such a good pet, so come over here and let me spoil you” he said with a smile

I moved closer to him. Then, as I was closing the distance, he grabbed my shoulders and pulled me into a kiss. It was hot and passionate and I felt like I was melting in his arms. I could feel the warmth of his body against mine and his hands holding me tightly to his chest. I wrapped my legs around his hips as I placed my hands on his back. I could feel his thing harden, so I slid one of my hands down to stroke it. He then let out a moan and bit my lip, which made me gasp. He then placed his hands on my butt and squeezed it.

“Mmmh, Dean”

His lips moved to my ear and whispered “Your grades are… mmh… so good, I need to… haa… praise you… nnh… more” then licked my ear

“Yes, praise me more, teacher~” I said in a husky voice. I stopped stroking his cock and began to move my hips against his, feeling his hardness between my legs. It was getting hotter and hotter and that wasn’t only because of the water.

He grabbed my hips and began to put it in and I heard his voice close to my year “You’re such a… nnnh… good pet… ahhh” his hips were moving to and fro now and he was panting hard “a really… ohh… good pet… mmmh”

“Ahhh, I love you… mmh… master~” I was holding him tightly and moaning. I need him so much. I love him more than anything else in the world. I was getting closer and closer to my peak and as I felt him tighten his hold on my hips I moaned out his name and came. I felt him take it out and i realized he hasn’t finished yet, so I put my hands on his shaft and started rubbing it

“Ahhh… yes… do it like that… mmh” I heard him moan. He then gripped my shoulders and started licking my neck. “faster… nnh”

I started moving my hands faster around his thing. I felt it throbbing under my hands. It feels so good to hear his moans and know that I’m the one making him feel this way. After some more rubbing he came and took me in his arms. He began to caress my back, moving his hand down my back and back again. This feels so relaxing. We stayed like that for a while and then got out of the water. Since it was so late he let me stay at his place and lent me one of his shirts to sleep in.

We were lying in bed, in each other’s arms, when he said “I don’t want to ever let you go, even after you graduate… will you still want to stay by my side? Even though you know how I truly am?”

“Yes, I will. My heart belongs to you. I’m all yours”

“I’m all yours too” he said and gave me a quick kiss

I felt so relaxed and happy right now like I’ve never had before. My friend was right. Love makes you happier.

[hookedonapirate]

Figure of Speech

Summary: Killian has been in love with Emma Swan ever since he was eleven and she was his babysitter. The last time he saw her was the day he kissed her, thinking they were having a special moment… right before she headed off to college with her boyfriend.

When their paths cross years later, he’s just happy she remembers him—because while he’s a talented, free-spirited journalist who takes risks and has a knack for finding trouble, Emma is an accomplished and sophisticated politician who’s planning to run for President of the United States. 

Sensing Killian Jones—the boy who once knew her and supported her long before she entered the soul-sucking world of politics—is the key to unlocking a part of herself that’s been dormant for so long, she hires him as her speechwriter. As she travels the world to launch her 2020 presidential campaign, he is by her side, helping Emma find her voice again. 

The attraction between them sizzles, but when they eventually give into it, will their relationship withstand the demands of the election and scrutiny of the public?

A/N: Thank you @ultraluckycatnd​ for beta reading and @onceuponaprincessworld​ for your help with this! Thank you @captainswanmoviemarathon​ for starting the event and everyone on discord for all your help!

Before you read, there are a few things I want to clarify.

First off, this story is heavily based on the movie, Long Shot, for the Captain Swan Movie Marathon, with some elements of OUAT weaved in. What I’m referring to mainly is that the president in this fic is in no way based on President Trump. In other words, I am not using this fic to bash the current U.S. president in any shape or form, or any other real-life president. So if you plan on going into this with that mindset, I beg you to hit the back button right now. This story in no way reflects my opinions or views, I mainly stuck to the plot of the movie.

Secondly, I hope that I have made it perfectly clear in the beginning scene of this chapter that Killian is not actually a white supremacist, he is only going undercover to get his story. Nor is he Jewish like Fred Flarsky is in the movie. He’s the Killian we all know and love. So please don’t send me hate messages accusing me of either being a racist or writing Killian as one. I was very torn whether to include this scene or not but I feel it is relevant to the plot and shows Killian’s character in this story as very passionate about what he believes in and is a big risktaker when getting his point across, so I decided to keep it.

Third of all, I know some of you are sick of hearing about politics, especially since the U.S. election is so close. But this is not a political movie, it’s a romance. There is of course some talk of politics, but I’ve tried my best to keep it to a minimum. So if you’re worried about that, please don’t be. The movie genre is a romantic comedy.

Writing this fic was a huge wake-up call for me because it’s the first one in a while that I’m not proud of, for lack of a better word, because I have not been able to spend much time on it. I have so many wips in my docs it’s not even funny and I think that has really impacted how this chapter turned out. But because of this fic, I decided to take some time and work on finishing some of my wips before posting them, with the exception of this one because today is my posting date.

With that said, because I’ve been pushing myself to finish my wips, I finished writing my first original novel after working on it for two years, and I will be publishing it soon. So be sure to look out for Follow My Lead, a romance about a former ballerina and a gym owner.

Okay, now I am done with my rant, so please enjoy!

AO3 FF.N

Rated: M

2018

“So you guys are fairly active on social media, right?” 

“Yeah,” Jaxon answers absentmindedly, his eyes focused on the cue ball as he lines up the shot.

“How many times a day would you say you Tweet on average?” 

Jaxon taps the ball, sends it into its pocket, and high-fives Marcus, ignoring the question.

“Hey Rogers, ready to get a Swastika tattoo?!” Richard calls from the other room as the tattoo artist is finishing up with him.

“No, that’s okay, I’m cool,” Killian replies nonchalantly through the large lump in his throat, glad his British accent didn’t leak out as he takes his turn.

“Oh, come on, man, we’ve all got ‘em!”

Killian gulps and looks around the room, all the members pulling up their shirts to show their tattoos on the left side of their chest. He was hoping it wouldn’t come to this, but he can sense Jaxon is already suspicious of his motives. He forces a small smile, pointing to himself with his free hand as he holds up the cue stick in the other one. “You want me to get a swastika tattoo?”

“Yeah!” the group chants in unison.

“Then I’ll get a swastika tattoo,” he agrees submissively, hoping the anxiety he feels isn’t clear in his voice. He removes his leather jacket, or rather the jacket he borrowed from Victor, depositing it in a chair before he walks into the adjacent room where the tattoo artist is waiting for him. He sits in the parlor chair, his stomach twisted in knots as he chooses his left bicep for the tattoo and cringes at the thought of getting it. He’s never gotten a tattoo before, and not only is he afraid of needles, but his beliefs don’t at all resemble anything a swastika symbol resembles. Tattoos are removable, though, right? 

When the needle pierces his skin, he pinches his eyelids shut and yelps, “Blo-ooooody he-eeeell!” He realizes his mistake immediately when the words screech out in his thick, British accent. Plus, bloody hell isn’t exactly an American phrase. 

He’s praying no one noticed, because if they did, they would know he’s lying about who he claims to be, but when he flips his eyelids open, everyone’s staring at him.

Fuck.

Jaxon, the leader of the group, enters the room with Killian’s jacket in one hand and wallet in the other, raising it for everyone to see Killian’s driver’s license. His heart flitters with panic. “Look at this. He’s been lying to us. His name isn’t John Rogers,” Jaxon announces angrily. Marcus appears next to him, holding up his laptop. On the screen is the Storybrooke Advocate website with Killian’s profile pic on the page. “It’s Killian Jones. He works for the Storybrooke Advocate! He’s a fucking journalist!”

“Wait, wait, wait, I can explain!” Killian pleads, raising his hands in surrender. 

The members circle him like sharks, and everything becomes a blur as they yank him from the chair and slam him against a table. 

“What are you doing, trying to fucking embarrass us, huh?!” Jaxon screams at him. “Who sent you?!”

“No one sent me!” Killian claims adamantly, fear and pain crippling him as he tries to think his way out of this. “I was just…”

Before he can finish his sentence, Marcus reaches into Killian’s jeans pocket as the others hold him down, and pulls out his phone. Which is currently recording everything. “He’s been recording us this entire time!”

Jaxon’s face is red with anger, steam practically emitting from his ears as he grits his teeth and fists Killian’s shirt in a vice-like grip, pulling him so close that Killian smells his wretched breath. “You infiltrated our group! You’re gonna fucking die!”

They say your life flashes before your eyes during your very last moments. They say it’s like reliving every moment that’s ever stuck with you—every moment that’s ever made an impression on you. Killian always thought when he was finally shuffled off to sleep with the fishes, his life would appear in sequence or at least in random order, featuring all the people who have played a vital role in his life—his parents, his brother, his best friend—but he never thought one person would stick in his mind. He never thought all the images flashing before his eyes would be of one person and one person only.  

The woman he’s been in love with since he was eleven years old.

Killian remembers when he first fell in love with her like it were yesterday. Or at least an eleven-year-old boy’s version of love. He remembers the song, It’s So Hard to Say Goodbye to Yesterday by Boyz II Men, was playing on the boombox. He remembers what day it was, what he was wearing and the fuzzy feeling in his chest. He remembers thinking about one of his favorite movies, The Sandlot, how Squints tricked the lifeguard, Wendy Peffercorn, into kissing him and how she eventually married him even though she was older and way out of his league. 

Back then, a three or four year age gap seemed like a huge deal, but maybe because he was so young and she was… well she was so grown up and mature and very beautiful for her age. Not Wendy Peffercorn. Well, he supposes Wendy was too, but Killian had his real-life version of the movie character. His version of her was also blonde. She may not have been a lifeguard, but she was his next-door neighbor and also his babysitter ever since his brother left to join the Navy. Killian’s bedroom had an excellent view of her backyard and he would occasionally watch her sunbathing by the pool as she listened to music on her headphones or read a book in her bikini. Not only did she have a beautiful body, but she was wicked smart. She was passionate about the environment and the things she cared about. She was super nice to him—which went a long way with him—and had a ridiculously cute, dimpled smile. She was perfect. An angel.

Maybe that’s why, right before his death, she’s the only one he sees.

Before he met her, he never considered kissing a girl, or even liking one for that matter. He thought girls were gross and had cooties. But Emma was no girl. Not even at fifteen. She was a woman. 

Emma Swan was his Wendy Peffercorn.

She still is. Even as he’s being threatened by a group of angry white supremacists. 

She’s all he sees.

“Did you know that every year, the school throws away over five hundred tons of recyclable garbage? And no one cares!”

“Aye, it’s rubbish. But how do you get muppets to care about stuff they don’t care about?” 

Emma shrugs. “They’ll just…” She bites her bottom lip, hesitance etching her features, “they’ll just c-care because it’s the right thing to care about.” She may not have all the answers, but she’s the most inspiring person he knows.

He smiles and rests one elbow on the counter, his chin perched in his hand as he admires her passion for the environment. He admires how beautiful she is in simply a snug pair of blue jeans and a white t-shirt with a picture of a buttercup on the front. He admires her waist-length, golden hair, how it glows radiantly in the sunlight cascading through the kitchen window and how it swishes from side to side when she turns around to grab a mitt and pull the pizza out of the oven. Delicious aromas of crisp, baked bread, melted mozzarella cheese and sweet tomato sauce waft through the kitchen, making his stomach growl. Licking his lips, he jumps off the stool and heads over to grab a slice from the pan.

She gently swats his hand away. “Don’t touch, kid, you’ll burn yourself. Let it cool, first.”

He frowns as he returns to his seat. He hates it when she calls him that. He doesn’t want her to think of him as a kid; he’s almost a teenager! Heeding her warning, he does his best to resist the temptation of getting up again and grabbing a slice, even though the gooey, golden cheese, colorful toppings and toasted crust look amazing. Instead, he places the hand she’d touched on his cheek. He never wants to wash his hand or his cheek ever again.

Emma continues the speech she’d prepared for her Student Council election. She’s running for president, and he is not only her biggest supporter, but he also came up with her campaign slogan, ‘Stay calm and vote for Swan’. He was quite proud of himself when she actually thought it was clever enough to use.

“I would definitely vote for you, Swan.”

“Thanks, Killy,” she says, ruffling a hand through his hair.

Now that’s a better nickname. Though he hates when his brother calls him Killy, he never minds when Emma does. 

Once the pizza is cool enough to eat, Emma returns to the oven, using a pizza cutter on the pie. She plates two big slices, one for each of them, and brings them to the counter, sitting next to him. They eat their pizza in silence at first, besides the yummy food noises they make.

“Thanks for helping me. I know it’s probably boring hearing my speech over and over again.”

He shakes his head. “Not at all,” he mumbles through a mouth full of pizza. “I’m just happy to help,” he smiles. His hand pauses midair, still holding his half-eaten slice of pizza as he locks eyes with his beautiful babysitter. He wonders if she feels the same way he does, and normally he wouldn’t think it was possible, but the way she’s looking at him right now makes him rethink everything.

She reaches out to him, and he closes his eyes as she caresses his cheek. His heart slams against his chest and he loses all the air from his lungs. And that’s when he knows he’s totally and completely in love. Her hand feels so wonderfully warm, he wants to spend the rest of his life feeling her touch and immediately gets a chill when she pulls her hand away. 

“All better.”

His eyes flip open to see Emma wiping her hand with a napkin. She looks up at him and smiles. “You had some sauce on your face.”

He chuckles on the outside, but internally he’s berating himself for being foolish enough to think someone like Emma Swan could possibly like him. She’s way too good for him. 

Especially when he’s thirteen and has to wear glasses. As if hitting puberty isn’t bad enough, he also has to sport the most hideous pair of thick-framed glasses. By then, his father said he was too old to have a babysitter, so he didn’t get to see Emma as much. He mowed the Swans’ lawn occasionally, but she was gone most of the time with extracurricular activities and prepping for college. He convinced himself she could never be into someone like him. Someone who was nerdy and awkward and four years her junior. 

Until one day when he’s fourteen and she’s eighteen.

She’s leaving for college and he’s been in his room sulking while listening to It’s So Hard to Say Goodbye for two weeks, not looking forward to her departure. He’s afraid he’ll never see her again. But he’s also happy for her. She’s off to better and greater things, greener pastures as they say. She’s going to Harvard and leaving him in the dust.

He’s on the front porch, sitting on the top step, his chin in his hands and his elbows propped up on his knees as he watches Emma and her parents packing up her things. He wants to offer his assistance, but this seems like a very important bonding moment for the three of them and he doesn’t wish to interrupt. He can tell Mr. and Mrs. Swan are both incredibly sad but also very proud of their daughter, and there are lots of hugs and tears by the time the car is packed. Then Emma says something to her parents and they wave at Killian. He smiles and waves back before they head inside.

Emma walks over to him, and he immediately stands up, making his way down the remaining steps.

“Hey,” she murmurs, smiling at him.

“Hey,” he parrots, offering a small smile. “So, you’re all packed?”

“Yeah, we’re leaving soon.”

Nodding nervously, he scratches behind his ear as he looks away, not sure what to say.

“Look, I’m not a goodbye person, but — ”

“Let’s not say goodbye then,” he suggests and offers his hand. But instead of shaking it, she throws her arms around him. Killian’s stunned, and can’t even move at first, completely paralyzed in her embrace.

Emma’s hugging him.

He slowly molds into her body, his arms wrapping around her waist as she tightens her hold. Her hair smells like strawberries and cream as he buries his face there. He never wants to let her go.

“I’ll miss you, Killian,” she whispers in his ear.

His heart does a little somersault, and he whispers, “Not a day will go by when I won’t think of you.”

He feels her smile against his neck. “Good.”

That one simple word does something to him and he grins into her hair, holding her tighter. 

She breaks the hug long before he’s ready, and he’s still awestruck as she leans in to kiss him.

Bloody hell. 

Emma Swan leans in for a kiss as he springs forward to meet her halfway. Their lips finally connect like they had so many times in his dreams, but he doesn’t fail to miss how surprised she is when a gasp escapes against his mouth. She doesn’t pull away, but he knows he probably should after realizing she was actually going for his cheek. But her lips are so soft and warm and taste like cinnamon and cocoa, and he swears they move ever so slightly against his. He still has his arms around her, pressing her to him, and her center suddenly moves away from him. Forcing himself to break the kiss, he looks down and notices the very prominent and very hard erection tenting his pants.

Fuck.

His cheeks are on fire as he looks up, apology and embarrassment flushing his face. He’s expecting her to either slap him or storm away and never look back, but she stares down at his groin, her mouth agape. 

“Bloody hell, I’m so sorry, love.”

“It’s okay,” Emma squeaks as her eyes snap up to his.

Just then, a ‘69 Ford Mustang pulls up in front of Emma’s house, the music booming through the speakers at an obnoxious volume.

He panics when Emma’s boyfriend gets out of the car and makes his way over to them. Killian forgot Neal was riding with Emma to Harvard, where he was certainly not attending. Neal could only get into a community college.

Killian quickly pulls off the backward baseball cap from his head and uses it to cover his obvious boner. 

“Hey, babe, ready to go?” 

She nods and looks at Killian, a small smile tilting her lips. 

“Bye, four-eyes,” Neal taunts with a condescending sneer as he wraps his arm around Emma’s shoulders.

Really?

Killian bites his tongue as he rolls his eyes. That nickname really gets old. Can’t he think of something more original?

“Don’t call him that,” Emma scolds her boyfriend, swatting his chest. “He has a name.”

“Sorry, I mean Killian,” he says insincerely before turning around and pulling Emma with him.

As Killian watches them walk away, pushing up the bridge of his glasses with his finger, he would give anything to be the one with his arm around Emma, the one leaving with her instead of being the one she leaves. She cranes her neck to look at him as she walks away. He swears she’s looking at him longingly but he’s sure he’s only imagining it. She’s still gazing at him until her parents emerge from the house. Neal doesn’t even have the courtesy to open the door to her parents’ station wagon for her, and instead hurries into the back seat. 

Arsehole, Killian thinks bitterly as he watches the vehicle pull away from the curb. Emma stares at him through the passenger’s window, and their eyes connect. He flashes one last smile and waves. She smiles back at him and presses her palm to the window before she disappears down the road and out of his life, leaving a permanent gaping hole in his heart. 

He always thought not being able to see Emma anymore was the scariest thing he’s ever experienced. But that was before he was inked with part of a swastika tattoo so his cover wouldn’t be blown. That was before he fell from a two-story building and landed in a dumpster. Luckily the trash bags cushioned his fall and didn’t contain any glass or other sharp objects. He hadn’t really thought that through when he jumped. But then again, he didn’t really have time to do anything but run for his life while Marcus and Jaxon were busy trying to figure out how to stop Killian’s phone from recording. Killian took advantage of the distraction and plucked the phone from their hands, sprinting for the nearby window.

His phone.

Killian quickly lifts his hand to see that not only is his phone still in his hand but it’s still intact. He climbs out of the dumpster, his entire body sore, but he lands on his feet. He’d left his leather jacket up there, but it wasn’t even his. Killian doesn’t wear leather jackets, he’s content with his hoodies. He borrowed the jacket from his best friend, Victor. He’ll be pissed, but oh well, Killian will buy him a new one.

Three of the members are poking their heads out the window and Killian looks up at them, throwing the hand that’s still holding his phone in the air. He feels like Bennie in The Sandlot when he finally gets the baseball from the beast and hurdles the fence, still holding onto the ball. The difference is the beast chased Bennie down. The difference is the beast in the movie was not actually a beast at all. He can’t say the same about those white supremacists, though.

“We trusted you, man!” Richard calls out. He’s the one Killian had contacted through one of their social media groups. 

“Sorry, mate,” he says in his British accent, his words lacking any sort of apology as he spins around. “Peace!” he calls behind him trying to sound as American as he can, and instead of saluting the members with two fingers, which is not a peace sign for Brits, he flips them the bird as he goes. 

∞∞∞

“Tonight on Walsh News, we take an in-depth look at Emma Swan, a Rhodes Scholar, a Pulitzer Prize winner and a protégé of President Gold who tapped Swan two years ago to be the youngest Secretary of State in the history of this nation.”

As sore as Killian is from that jump out of a two-story window and as much as he hates that arsehole, Walsh, and everything the media mongrel represents, he lifts his eyes from his MacBook. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and manages a small smile when he sees Emma on the television screen. He knows what he’d done to write his article and expose the White Power group was worth it. He may have lost faith in humanity long ago, but Emma’s passion and ambition and hope have always stuck with him. He wants to believe the support he’d always shown her when they were young has always stuck with her too, but he doubts it. She doesn’t need his support. She never did. She was never a helpless duckling, and even after she lost the student council election to August Booth because of his stupid two prom platform, her wounds healed and she eventually spread her wings and soared high in the sky, leaving Storybooke in the dust. 

As Killian gazes at her wistfully at the screen, he sees the elegant swan he always knew she’d become. While everyone he knows had hopes and dreams they gave up on long ago, Emma is the one person who made hers come true. Well, not quite all of them. She always talked about saving the planet, but he knows her work isn’t nearly finished. She’s only thirty-seven, and even though they haven’t spoken to one another since the day he watched her ride away in her parents’ 1987 Pontiac Safari Station Wagon, he still believes in her. He’ll always believe in her.

∞∞∞

Emma sucks in a deep breath as she twists the knob and opens the thick, wooden door, entering the Oval Office with a little bit of forced enthusiasm. President Gold had been vague over the phone about what he’d wished to discuss with her, but his tone of voice indicated it might be something big. “Good morning Mr. President,” she greets with the smile she had practiced in her bedroom mirror repeatedly that morning. 

“Hello, Ms. Swan.” He rises from his chair and rounds the desk, gesturing to one of the couches. “Please, have a seat.”

She sits down and crosses her legs, folding her hands in her lap as he sits on the couch across from her and rests his elbows on his knees. “Ms. Swan…”

“Yes, sir?”

He blows out a long breath as if whatever he’s about to tell her has been weighing on his mind for quite some time. “I will not be seeking re-election.”

Emma’s sure the awestruck expression on her face doesn’t even come close to how surprised she actually is. “Really?” Did she hear him correctly?

He nods, clapping his hands together. “Look, I know how absurd it sounds seeing as I’m only halfway through my first term—”

“And you’re incredibly popular, sir.” But she knows most of his popularity stems from being a television star before he took office. He hosted the popular game show, Let’s Strike a Deal.

“And I’m going to use that popularity to transition into something more prestigious than the presidency. I wanna make it in the movies.”

Emma blinks, not believing what she’s hearing. She opens and closes her mouth several times, trying to process this. “Yoooouuuu… want to leave… the presidency… to be a movie star?”

“I know it’s tough to make the leap from television to film, but I think I’m going to give it a shot.”

After the initial shock washes over her, she sees this as an opportunity. She had planned on running for president in 2024, but with Gold leaving office at the end of his first term, perhaps she can use this to her advantage. And she knows just how to go about it. Gold may be good at convincing people—he is an actor after all—but Emma not only has far more education than him, her extensive political background has helped her greatly improve her cajolery tactics over the years. After she lost the Student Council election to August Booth in high school, she’s learned that in order to get ahead, sometimes you have to use a little sleight of hand to get there—give the people what they want, so to speak. Or, in this case, help Gold realize just how legendary his presidency could be.

“Mr. President, have you given any consideration as to whom you might endorse? I’m sure you’re probably thinking of Yang or Crowley. Sound choices,” she nods and purses her lips, averting her gaze, a look of contemplation on her face. “It’s so strange because I was considering a run in 2024, and I can’t stop wondering what…” she looks at Gold again, “what it would do for your legacy to endorse the first female president. I mean, wow. ” The word is breathy, almost a whisper. “Now that’s a legacy.”

Gold presses his joined hands to his lips and has a thoughtful expression embedded in his features, but she can’t discern what he’s thinking.

She looks at the floor between them while he ponders her words. 

“Emma?” he finally says after a moment.

“Hmm?” She reverts her eyes to him.

“I would like to endorse you to be the next President of the United States.” 

Her entire body is thrumming with excitement and her stomach is full of butterflies; she doesn’t even care he said it like it was his idea. She’ll even give him credit for it. Besides, trying to convince him otherwise would be like trying to teach a fish how to bark. She closes her eyes and refrains from jumping up and down on the couch. She opens her eyes again, trying to hide the excitement in her voice but fails, her tone coming out unusually high pitched. “I mean, if you think that’s a good idea, sir, I trust you completely. I’d be… I’d be honored.”

He reclines back, wagging a finger at her. “I’ll be pulling for Team Emma. Because you’ve been a great secretary.”

“Of State,” she adds.

“Whatever. You’ve done it well, Dearie.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“So stay focused. Don’t make any major screw-ups. Don’t kill anyone. That’s probably not a problem for you. I don’t know what you’re into. Whatever. And before you know it…” He rises from the couch and hums the US Presidential Anthem. 

“I like the sound of that,” Emma says with a jubilant smile as she stands up.

“Hey here she comes, it’s the first lady president,” he chants.

“Thank you, sir.” She heads for the door, Gold following behind her still singing. 

“Who can believe she is actually a woman. She’s got a big brain and a couple other assets.”

Emma opens the door and walks through, not even giving another thought to how incredibly sexist Gold is being. She’s floating high on a cloud as she sashays proudly down the hall and raises a subtle victory fist in the air, whispering to herself, “Yessss!”

∞∞∞

“You’re gonna love this,” Killian raves as he hands the piece to his boss. “I almost died for this.”

Sidney lowers the mug from his lips, swallowing his coffee down. He offers a tightlipped smile as he glances very briefly at the draft before looking up at Killian, a serious expression clouding his face. “Got a second?”

“Of course.” 

“Come with me.”

Killian follows Sydney into his office and sits across from him at the desk, setting his satchel on the floor.

Sydney sets down Killian’s article and his coffee mug, folding his hands together on the desk. “I have some great news, Killian. We’ve just been bought by Walsh Media.” 

Killian pales and his stomach drops. “What?!” Blood bubbles under his skin at the thought of the wanker buying the Storybrooke Advocate. The thought of him owning something Killian has literally put his blood, sweat and tears into. “Bloody hell. Are you fucking kidding me?!” Ever since he was a kid, he’s dreamed of being an investigative journalist, so he’s been nothing but loyal and dedicated to the company from day one. But in the blink of an eye, Walsh has managed to ruin all that for him.

“Look, I knew you would have a poor reaction—”

“A poor reaction?!”

“Killian, this is a good thing.”

“How?! That wanker represents everything we’ve been fighting against since day one. The whole point of this paper is to fight giant media conglomerates. Now we’ve been bought by a giant media conglomerate.”

“I see the irony,” Sydney nods.

“Irony?!” Killian stands from his chair, his voice growing louder with every word. “He’s going to turn us into a giant propaganda machine! And not the good kind!” Anger pulsates through him as he paces back and forth in front of Sidney’s desk; he’s never been this worked up before in his entire life. And that’s saying something for him.

“Killian, we’re running out of options. We’ve been running as long as we can on ads for weed doctors and escorts.”

Killian stops in his tracks and raises his hands in the air. “Then run penis enlargement ads or something!”

“Come on, Killian,” Sydney admonishes.

He sighs in exasperation, trying to calm down, his voice calmer. “This Walsh guy ran fake stories to get Gold elected.”

Sydney shakes his head and raises a finger at him. “No, they couldn’t prove that.”

“We proved it!” He holds up three fingers. “I wrote three articles about it. You published them!”

Sydney nods, lowering his face into the palm of his hand. “I did.”

“The shite that comes out of this guy’s mouth? He said same-sex marriage caused tornadoes! He represents everything that’s wrong with this country!”

“Killian, it’s done, alright?”

He freezes. “It’s done?!”

“They’re upstairs, finalizing the deal right now.” 

Killian presses the pads of his fingers to his temples and turns away from his boss as he tries to process this. 

Sydney stands and rounds his desk, sitting on the edge, pleading with him. “Look, we have to cut two-thirds of our staff.”

Killian turns around, devastation in his features. “Two-thirds?”

“Yes. But we want to keep you on. They want to keep you on. It’s just,” he blows out a hesitant breath, “you just have to tone it down a little bit.”

Killian furrows his brows in bewilderment. “I don’t know how I can tone things down any more than I’m toning them down, mate,” he mutters through gritted teeth.

“Okay look, Killian, you’re a brilliant writer…”

“Thank you.”

“You’re funny, you take risks, you connect with people…”

Killian’s brows pinch in suspicion. “Why am I sensing there’s a big but coming?”

“You have a distinct, authentic voice… but… ”

“And there it is…” he sighs.

“But, sometimes you’re a little too much.”

Killian is taken aback. “I don’t think I am too much. I actually think I’m the perfect portion,” he says defensively.

“Look, you have your job, so focus on that and just toe the line a little bit.”

Killian is enraged. Toe the line a little bit?! He’s not toeing any lines. “I quit.”

Sydney’s face twists with a mixture of shock and disappointment. “Oh, come on, Killian…”

“You should quit, too. Everyone should bloody well quit.”

“No, I’m not quitting, I need my job.”

“I need my job too. I’m broke. But I can’t work for that tosser.”

Sydney sighs. “At least let me fire you so you can collect unemployment.”

Killian slices a hand through the air over his chest. “No bloody way! I want nothing from him. Besides, I want him to know I quit.”

“He’ll never know it, he’s never heard of you. You’re going to destroy your life to spite a guy who’s never heard of you?”

“Yes! You said it best! That’s exactly what I’m doing. Fuck this.” Killian grabs his satchel and walks out of Sydney’s office, closing the door behind him, announcing to all his former coworkers, “Journalism died today, people!”

∞∞∞

“So the headline is, you’re in great shape,” Mary Margaret, the polling team manager, points out as she displays the next presentation slide.

Emma’s sitting at the meeting table between her Chief of Staff, Regina Mills, and Deputy Chief of Staff, Robin Locksley, trying to follow along with the presentation, but it’s difficult for Emma to focus when her stomach is full of butterflies. She still can’t believe she persuaded Gold to endorse her. Her head is spinning.

“Ninety-two percent, that’s good,” Regina comments. 

“It’s very good,” Mary Margaret agrees exuberantly and moves on to the next slide, which shows Emma’s personality traits and how they were ranked. “Your sense of humor is eighty-two, which is solid.” Mary Margaret cocks her head to the side, as though she has to rethink that assessment. “It’s solid, but we wouldn’t mind seeing that number go up a few points… or more.”

Regina leans in to speak to Emma as she takes notes. “I’ll get some writing samples from some funny speechwriters.”

Emma sets her pen down and smiles. “Thanks, Regina.” She rests her elbows on the table, clasping her hands together as she reverts her attention to Mary Margaret and says, “But I’m really interested in knowing how people feel about my accomplishments.” 

“Right, so we don’t drill down on specific policies, and that’s only because people don’t seem to care.”

Well, that’s a blow to the gut.

“With that said, if you could broker a deal that gets you out there talking about something you feel strongly about, that would be really great.”

“Well, that’s perfect,” Emma says enthusiastically, sitting on the edge of her chair. “We’ve been looking for an opening to start a conversation about the environment.” 

“That sounds great,” Mary Margaret says with a grin, but Emma’s not sure if she’s being sarcastic and trying to hold back a laugh, or if she’s being sincere. “Now, if I may, onto your romantic life…” The brunette shows a photo of Emma and Graham Humbert smiling for the camera.

Emma refrains from rolling her eyes as she rests her chin in her palm. She doesn’t have a romantic life. One make-out session with a world leader she barely knows doesn’t constitute a romance.

However, the way Mary Margaret gushes as she looks at the couple in the photo, one would think they were actually a couple. “Remember the stir online when you and the Canadian Prime Minister were seated next to each other at the Global Business Forum?”

Emma nods, wishing she were taking a nap right now. She doesn’t care about improving her personality traits or starting a romance that will raise her numbers and appease the public. Although she is quite proud of her two highest scores, elegance and charisma, both ranked at over ninety-five percent.

“A relationship like that,” Mary Margaret points to the photo of Emma and Graham, “could push you into the high nineties.”

“High nineties? Wow,” Regina murmurs to herself, making note of it.

“That brings us to…” Mary Margaret switches to the next slide, showing Emma’s wave.

She knits her brows in confusion. “What’s wrong with my wave?”

“That kind of elbow movement is um…” Mary Margaret purses her lips as though she’s trying to figure out how to put it delicately, but then gives up, “well, it stresses people out.”

“You know what? It’s just an area of improvement,” Robin assures Emma after sensing the offended tone in her voice.

She supposes the movement in her elbow is a bit too much. It makes her look like a robot actually. “Fine, I’ll work on the wave.”

∞∞∞

“I’m not going to a fancy rich person party,” Killian declares after Victor proposed going to the World Wildlife Fund benefit in Philly tonight. Killian had shared the details with Victor and now they’re walking down Main Street discussing their plans for the evening. But Killian thought Vic was trying to make him feel better. Going to a fancy, rich person party will only remind Killian how rich he is not. He had something else in mind, something involving the closest bar and lots and lots of rum. 

“Oh, come on, Jones. Don’t be so judgemental. There will be free booze and pandas and shit. People love pandas and shit.”

Killian shakes his head. “I just lost my job, I’m not really in the mood to mingle.”

“Fine, just sit at home and do nothing. Don’t hang out with your best friend and Boyz II Men.”

Killian’s ears perk up and he stops in his tracks. “Boyz II Men will be there?”

Victor stops walking and turns around, nodding. “Yep. They’re bringing their timeless blend of R&B and hip hop to the party. The fancy rich party doesn’t sound so bad after all, now does it?”

Not at all. He used to listen to Boyz II Men and other popular musicians in the nineties. But mostly Boyz II Men because it’s what he and Emma would listen to when she was over at his house babysitting him. He didn’t know Victor then; they met in college before Victor went off to medical school, but they have similar tastes in music. Which is how Victor knew exactly how to persuade Killian into going to a fancy, rich person party. “Okay, I’m in, mate.”

“That’s the spirit!” Victor pats Killian on the shoulder, and they walk again as Victor sings Motownphilly.

∞∞∞

“I’m starving. Why didn’t you power bar me?” Emma asks Robin as they make their way down the staircase, Regina and her Secret Service agents following behind them.

The Grand Room glitters like something out of a fairy tale, all candlelight and crystal chandeliers and gilt and sophisticated shine. The attendees glitter, the women dripping in diamonds and other precious stones and the men donning suits and black ties. 

“I tried to, but you pushed my hand away,” Robin chuckles.

“Hopefully they don’t have skewered foods. I can’t eat skewered foods gracefully; I always look like a fucking cavewoman.”

“And there are cameras everywhere.” Regina points at a dutiful photographer who’s unobtrusively circling the perimeter of the room, taking pictures of as many of the guests as he can. “That would hurt your elegance score.”

“That’s my best score.”

When they reach the buffet table, Emma’s relieved to find that not all the food is on skewers. But even so, she’s so hungry, she may still look like a cavewoman trying to stuff as much food into her mouth as she can. “Cover me?”

“Of course.”

Regina and Robin both stand behind her like walls as Emma makes her first selection, grabbing a saucy meatball on a toothpick and bringing it to her mouth, being careful not to drip any sauce on her black dress. 

“Oh my god, these meatballs are really good,” Emma mumbles through a mouthful of food.

“Graham Humbert is approaching,” Regina warns her. “He’s about nine feet away.”

“Shit,” Emma whispers and shoves another meatball into her mouth before wiping her lips and chin with a napkin. After swallowing it down and discarding the napkin, she spins around, offering a bright smile. 

When Graham approaches her, giving her a once over, Regina and Robin disperse.

“Graham… how are you?”

“Good evening.” His lips twitch in a pleased smile as he takes Emma’s hand and presses a kiss to the back of it. “I am so sorry I missed you at the White House a few weeks ago,” he says in his thick, Irish brogue. He was born in Canada, but his parents are originally from Ireland, so naturally, he took on their Irish accent.

“Oh, it’s fine.” Emma waves off his apology with a flick of her hand. “Maybe next time?”

“Well, I—”

“If I may?” the photographer interrupts, holding up his camera.

“Aye, of course,” Graham turns toward him, and Emma relents, remembering what Mary Margaret said about how being seen with Graham would raise her score. She supposes if she’s going to be running for president, she must endure some things she may not like, in order to appease the public. Besides, it’s not like Graham is bad looking; in fact, he’s rather handsome with his curly brown hair and grey-blue eyes. But her hectic schedule doesn’t allow time for a romantic relationship. 

Graham wraps his arm around her as she places a tentative hand on his back. The camera flashes a few times as Emma and Graham hold their smiles.

“One more,” Graham says, just as Emma’s about to pull away. 

A few more successive shots are taken before Graham thanks the photographer and they break their pose, turning toward each other. 

He inches closer, speaking intimately in her ear. “What do you say we get out of here? Grab a drink somewhere a bit more… private?”

The music changes from something soft and elegant to something more familiar. Very familiar actually. 

Motownphilly.

Emma looks over Graham’s shoulder and her eyes light up when she sees Boyz II Men on stage. “Yeeeessss!”  

When Regina told her about the World Wildlife Fund benefit, she failed to mention Boyz II Men would be performing.

“Yeah?” Graham asks, a big smile spreading across his lips.

While he’s thinking she was saying yes to his invitation, Emma had forgotten his presence as soon as she heard the music. Not that she would’ve accepted his invitation anyway. But now she sees this as an opportunity to avoid the question altogether. “Oh my God!” Emma scurries over to the crowd that’s gathering around the entertainers of the evening.

“Alright, alright, alright, alright. Philly, make some noise. Make some noise!”

The crowd whistles and cheers, and Emma is taken back to when she was a kid again. She was ten when this song came out—when she bought their CD—and listened to it constantly throughout her teen years. 

Graham joins her on the dance floor as she moves to the music, not even caring about her elegance score. She literally hasn’t danced like this since high school, but she feels more carefree than she has in years and she hasn’t even had a sip of champagne. Stuffy music and champagne have never been her thing. But this… this is her music.

“Duty calls.” Graham’s deep voice in her ear makes her jump, and she spins around to look at him. “I’ll take a snow check on those drinks. Canadian for a rain check,” he winks.

“Okay,” Emma says, forcing a small laugh at his joke. 

“Good evening,” he bids her, slowly walking away.

∞∞∞

“I feel very underdressed,” Killian grumbles as he peers down at himself. He’d never thought to change out of his blue jeans, t-shirt and black hoody, and here he is drinking champagne in a room full of rich people who are wearing tuxes and formal dresses.

“Don’t worry, you look fine,” Victor says as they make their way through the crowd. 

Killian knows he’s just being nice though. Even Victor is wearing a dress shirt and blazer, but then again he blends in more with the other rich folk because unlike Killian, he’s not jobless or poor; he’s a doctor who makes more than a decent living.

Killian finishes his champagne and places the flute on a tray when a waiter approaches, and snatches another one, gulping it down like rum.

“Easy, buddy. You’re pounding those drinks pretty hard, don’t you think?” And that’s coming from Victor, who’s at the bar every night he’s not on call.

“I got fired today, mate.” 

“I thought you said you quit?”

Killian’s gaze moves across the room as he turns his head to look at Victor who is standing next to him. “I was forced to quit because—” His words die in his throat, his jaw dropping when his eyes land on a gorgeous blonde dancing.

But not just any blonde. Killian recognizes her. 

It’s the Secretary of State. It’s Emma Swan. His first crush. His first kiss. 

He hasn’t seen her in person since she was eighteen, but she’s even more stunning as a grown woman. And she’s even more stunning than she is on television. 

[wordofrecall]

character playlists: ori

so. let’s do this. my playlists are long and scattered, but they make me happy, so i might as well share them and the thoughts behind song choices. so. here’s some songs for runaway knights & wannabe witches, and what have you.

something holy - childhood & riches & wonders

pearl diver - mitski - oh hunter, if you didn’t want the beautiful so badly, perhaps you would’ve found it in your spirit singing softly - look. it's on the nose, considering that her title is "the pearl hunter," but also, like, that rules. this is a song for wren, i think; ori in the present reflecting on her mother and the similarities between them.

icicles - the scary jokes - i can only be forgiven if i’m giving myself up to you on a silver serving tray / must i bare myself to the stabbing of your knife & gnashing teeth while our lovely company appears so entertained? - aaand a song for childhood. 99% of ori's socialization came from her parents having important guests over, so. uh. yeah. show off your reclusive child prodigy like a pageant whenever you have the opportunity. she probably won't grow to loathe you.

life: the cruel interlude (on god) - kilo kish - why do i dare believe in me when i bleed? - questioning was. always a big thing for ori. i don't think she ever believed that the mirzha was god, and i known that she never truster her father's patron, but. in her studies, in her passions, there's always this tiny sense of desperation for something to have faith in something. not herself.

bluejays & cardinals - the mountain goats - the stars come out of hiding for you, & i would too - there is. a lot, in ori's relationship with her brother. she was the favorite child, yeah, the one destined for great things in spite of her... troubles. but he never had those troubles! she didn't, doesn't understand how he went through life so unafraid. there's envy there. i also think that the line i quoted is terribly true, like, canonically. because. she sure did do that stupid shit.

be calm - fun. - take it from me, i’ve been there a thousand times--you hate your pulse because it thinks you’re still alive! - sometimes you have intense social phobia. and that's okay!

country death song - violent femmes - kiss your mother goodnight & remember that God saves, kiss your mother goodnight & remember that God saves - i think andrei is a much less pitiable or even sympathetic man than the narrator of this song, but. like. it's a country song about a father killing his daughter while preaching godliness. i had to.

i’m all bloody inside - liam lynch - inside me, well, it’s dark & gross as hell, i’m not a pretty sight - the family business!

the hazards of love 3 (revenge!) - the decemberists - but father, don’t you fear, your children are all here - fantasies. part of the fantasy is imagining a world where she doesn't feel terrible about the thought.

shankill butchers - sarah jarosz - they used to be just like me & you, they used to be sweet little boys - "blood hunters are ghost stories." "and also, they're fucking terrible. violent, cruel, zealous. the worst."

sparrow - st. vincent - & no eyes are on the sparrow, eyes are on the sparrow, how could that be the case? the lark keeps whistling his number, silly little number, as if he isn't prey - pity for the boy. sort of retrospective, but it's a thought that's been there since she was a child.

something burning - rituals & fire & running

starchild - ghost quartet - but i will transcend & vomit this loser out of me; i will become the next big thing, i will light myself on fire - maybe she is some kind of angel? bursting with radiance and terrifying to look upon.

arsonist’s lullabye - hozier - don’t you ever tame your demons, always keep them on a leash / when i was sixteen, my senses fooled me - oooor maybe she is a sixteen year-old who is having a panic attack and setting everything in sight on fire by accident.

blood - my chemical romance - i’m the kind of human wreckage that you love! - so she's broken.

girl anachronism - the dresden dolls - it’s not the way i’m meant to be, it’s just the way the operation made me - so she's failed and she's broken and she's sick, and there's no time to fucking think.

when the chips are down - anais mitchell - cast your eyes to heaven, you’ll get a knife in the back. - so she does what her mother did before her, and she runs from that which she has always known.

body terror song - ajj - i’m so sorry that you have to have a body / one that will hurt you, & be the subject of so much of your fear - feelings on being built Wrong; feelings on your mind's undue control upon your body.

in corolla - the mountain goats - & no one was gonna come & get me, there wasn't anybody gonna know, even though i leave a trail of burnt things in my wake every single place i go - very good as an ori song in general but this is her justification to herself in the water. under the docks, she says this to herself.

the harrowed & the haunted - the decemberists - will i be so brave? - just to get that oceanic vibe up.

luna - the mountain goats - rise through the flames & end again in flames at last - an inexplicable feeling.

unwhere - reeder - a song for leaving what you've always known.

something lonely - years & woods & dreaming

runs in the family - amanda palmer - run from their pity, from responsibility, run from the country & run from the city, i can run from the law, i can run from myself, i can run for my life, i can run into debt, i can run from it all, i can run 'till I'm gone - she is broken and all she can think to do is get as far away as possible

panic attack - liza anne - i hate that i can be seen like this

black eyes - david wirsig - my hammering heart hears the voices of spirits that tempt us, the scorn that they’ve spoken

for the departed - shayfer james - they will bury me alive, but i’m not inclined to care; i am too far gone now

hurt - johnny cash - everyone i know goes away in the end; you can have it all, my empire of dirt

my body’s made of crushed little stars - mitski - i work better under a deadline! i work better under a deadline!

blood in the cut - k. flay - guess i’m contagious; it’d be safest if you ran--fuck, that’s what they all just end up doing in the end

little pistol - mother mother - i think i might be scared of the world & the way it makes you feel afraid & how it gets in the way

villains pt. 1 - emma blackery - built to create, designed to destroy

the beer - kimya dawson - & the christians gave me comic books as if i would be scared of burning in hell while i was already there [...] i tried to scream fuck you but blood was pouring out my mouth

something safe - family & finding it & fighting together

haunted house - sir babygirl - i’m running just to hide & i’m hiding just to breathe & around every corner is the same night on repeat

your heart is a muscle the size of your fist - ramshackle glory - i love you & you make me glad to be alive; i promise that i’m gonna pay you back / you always know how funny everything is, even when i’m so serious that it’s gonna be the death of me

medicines - the taxpayers - o, but our rotting corpses lying there soon began to leak & grow these lesions that all smelled just like a rose / & all the blood & guts inside us germinated into timeless pages stained with lines of lovely prose

autoclave - the mountain goats - i am this great unstable mass of blood & foam

alligator skin boots - mccafferty - i’m cool to the touch, leap to my death, i’ll die for you all, i’ll die for my friends, it goes like this

100 years - florence + the machine - lord, don’t let me break this, let me hold it lightly, give me arms to pray with instead of ones that hold too tightly

tomorrow will be kinder - the secret sisters - but i feel warmth on my skin, the stars have all aligned

armour - rae spoon - you know i placed was to build a life for you

amy aka spent gladiator 1 - the mountain goats - play with matches if you think you need to play with matches; seek out the hidden places where the fire burns hot & bright / find where the heat’s unbearable & stay there if you have to--don’t hurt anybody on your way up to the light, and stay alive

curses - the crane wives - won’t you stay with me, my darling, when my walls start burning down?

something daring - islands & visions & loss

jane’s dream - janelle monáe

beekeeper - keaton henson - hear me, o woman that has gone astray, gone astray

fire - kimya dawson - i’m reading books about how they’re corrupt [...] as long as i’m burning, i’ll keep on yearning to save the world, not sure how, but i’m learning

cosmic hero - car seat headrest - i love you, but i can’t stand the touch, & of course i’m alright with death

turn the lights off - tally hall - everbody likes to get taken for turns to see how bright the fire inside of us burns [...] should be stronger, books abandoned

eat you alive - the oh hellos - child, i’m afraid for your soul; these things that you’re after, they can’t be controlled

cry for judas - the mountain goats - hallucinate a shady grove where judas went to die

o death - monica martin - no wealth, no land, no silver, no gold, nothing satisfies me but your soul

blood of angels - brown bird - and i would wage my soul to bet that there ain’t no one throwing lightning anyhow

the universe is going to catch you - the antlers - the arms of the universe kept you from falling [...] those arms did not come back

a burning hill - mitski - i am the fire & i am the forest & i am the witness watching it / i stand in the valley watching it

something terrifying - conversations & selfhood & divination

the lamb - dessa - but blood is blood, & what’s done is done; blood is blood, & its burden is a beast

going invisible 2 - the mountain goats - i’m gonna burn it all down today & sweep all the ashes away

the lion’s roar - first aid kit - she plays a tune for those who wish to overlook the fact that they’ve been blindly deceived by those who preach & pray & teach, but she falls short & the night explodes in laughter

the villain i appear to be - connor spiotto - even if you can’t see the good inside me, i don’t have the time to tell you why i do the things that i do, just please hold on & soon you’ll seem

up the wolves - the mountain goats - there’s bound to be a ghost at the back of closet, no matter where you live; there’ll be a few things, maybe several things that you’re gonna find really difficult to forgive

thursday girl - mitski - glory, glory, glory to the night that shows me what i am

at the bottom of everything - bright eyes - we must take all of the medicines to expensive now to sel; set fire to the preacher who is promising us hell

everybody does - julien baker - i know i’m a pile of filthy wreckage you will wish you’d never touched, but you’re gonna run when you find out who i am

tongues & teeth - the crane wives - i know that you mean so well, but i am not a vessel for your good intent 

a pearl - mitski - you’re growing tired of me and all the things i don’t talk about / sorry, i don’t want your touch--it’s not that i don’t want you

[lovecanbesostrange]

Hot takes about OUaT. What a time to be alive.

@isagrimorie I loved, I adored that bit. The juxtaposition of Snow White’s ‘real world’ reputation vs how real!Snow is actually into angry rock!

I think the whole dual personality was dropped too soon. But it’s especially weird with Snow. They have her go back to the Enchanted Forest, where she immediately falls into all the badassery we love about her. Like Emma doesn’t even have the brainspace to fully compute, that her nice teacher roommate casually grabs bow+arrow and a sword and knows exactly what to do with those (while running around with her tiny handgun, oh Emma, you dork). But she is fine being called Mary Margaret, until they suddenly remember “maybe we should switch that” and give like a midlife-persona-crisis in S4 to say it out loud. Which on the one hand I like, on the other is so late in the game.

As incomprehensible as I find the story surrounding Eloise Gardner and as someone who liked OUaT in Wonderland and that Alice 1.0, I have to say that S7 was a fun watch for the most part. But I also love S4 very much, even though it’s for the shallow reason of the sexy villainess quartet. (It’s also weird how Maleficent has more bad blood with Snow than Aurora; just like Zelena is so fixated on Regina that... everything they could have done with Oz beyond flying monkeys is ignored. And I’m not just saying that because big grumpy lesbian Dorothy Gale is a thing I didn’t know I craved so much.)

@cliquestitsandicks And i actually hated that Regina never got to keep a romantic partner just because she wanted it so badly.

I felt the whole Tink showing her Robin Hood was... a bad, bad move. But also when it finally happened, I also shrugged and though “sweet, gonna be happy for Regina and hey, the guy can hold his own in dialogue, that’s great”. And then they didn’t care about him as a character?! Honestly, it would have been better if he left with (the real) Marion and never came back. Painful goodbye, but a finished story. And we could look at Tink and ask “wtf??”.

On the one hand I want to applaud the underlying choice that the most important love in Regina’s life is her love as a mother to Henry. (As someone who doesn’t want kids, btw, because me not wanting the thing doesn’t mean I don’t see value in that.) And it was a love she had to earn. because she was absolutely gaslighting him. She overcame everything she had learned from Cora. On the other hand, this show is all about True (romantic) Love - and Regina deserves this kind of happiness, too! Especially when Rumple is allowed to choose power over love - with a surprised pikachu-face when said loved ones don’t think that’s cool - again and again, only for love to come back to him anyway. (And I get they tried to tell us, that as the Dark One this lure about power is super strong, but they only remembered to have him put up a tiny bit of fight, when it was for dramatic scene reasons.)

I love Robert Carlyle in this role and understand why he needed to be kept around. But they fell down the hole of “gonna have to find excuses for him” soap opera style and played it totally straight. While always going on about how Regina is a villain and doesn’t deserve happiness. And then it’s the whole plot of 4b, where it’s all glorious, but with S5... meh... also let’s keep Zelena for.... reasons. And let her have a baby, a lover and fun while being her most horrible self and then sweep it under the rug. While Regina SUFFERS. (Yeah, boohoo, she lost Hades, but it’s not like it affected her for more than two minutes, because she did have the..... let’s say dubious-consent baby..... which will never be addressed when said baby becomes a character who idolizes the father she never knew..... and doesn’t mention her brother that seems completely forgotten..... honestly, was Roland ever mentioned again? Regina cared about him, because she cares about children.)

Meanwhile Emma and Hook have one of the worst relationship build-ups with all the tropes why we are tired of “she’s a girl, he’s a boy”-romances. Which is so weird, because Snow and Charming are everything I want to see with couples. The respect, trust, friendship and also yes-I-have-punched-this-face-but-really-I-just-want-to-kiss-it. I can deal with Emma being like “yo, pirate, you don’t have to choose to be a dick, because it’s easier to be alone, I have understood that friends are awesome and you can, too”. That there is a connection somewhere. But they aren’t even friends. They are the type of couple that will constantly decide what is best for the other without talking. Which is fine to a degree for dramatic sacrificial plays, but it has to lead to “that was a stupid thing to do, talk to me next time”. And then next time they do. Or where it’s clear that one partner loves the other way more and they both know this isn’t something that will last (see Buffy/Spike for reference, ignoring of course the end of S6). Hook is a worse version of Spike and I don’t care about him that much as his own character already (dear Jane Espenson, I enjoy what you write very much across so many shows I like, but we need to have a talk, I know this is your type of character; but you also wrote Red-Handed, We are both and In the Name of the Brother, so I owe you and will let this slide).

[gothpanda]

A Little Bit of Attitude Ch.20: Dirty Little Secret

WORD COUNT: 5.1K

A/N:so sorry if the smut sucks. it was my first time 

WARNINGS: SMUT, DRUGS, (slight) abusive power, and language

TAGS: @madamsixx​

Read On Ao3 

Previous/Next

“I’m sorry?” said Sammi. Her jaw almost dropped to the floor as she stared at Sharise. Sammi’s hearing almost felt like she was going deaf, as if she got hit by a bus. Sharise pulled her ear in nervousness, looking at the ground below her.

“Please don’t get angry,” pleaded Sharise, bringing her hands up to her chest.

Sammi ran her hands through her hair, pushing it out of her face. “How-How pregnant are you? When did you sleep with Vince?!”

“I’m going on four months, it happened back in August. I promise you, I didn’t know he had a girlfriend. Every time he came down to my work, Vince and his friends made it seem like they were bachelors,”  said Sharise.

“Well you sure don’t look pregnant,” muttered Sammi, looking down at Sharise’s stomach.

“Thanks… my mom said it happens when you’re pregnant for the first time,” mumbled Sharise.

“So you didn’t know Vince was in a relationship until the party?” asked Sammi. Sharise nodded with fear, playing with her hands. Sammi only dragged a hand down her face, looking out into the distance of the neighborhood.

“Alright. You can come inside. Vince has to be home,” Sammi walked up to the door, picking out her spare key from her chain. As she pushed the door open, Sammi could hear the tv being played far into the distance of the house. The two women stepped into the house slowly, closing the door to make no noise.

“Vince! I’m home! We need to talk!” yelled Sammi, staring down at the floor and leaning on the staircase. She could see Sharise nervously play with her hair, not knowing if she should be nice to her or hate her so fast. “Vince!” shouted Sammi again.

“I’m coming babe! I’m sorry about today-,” said Vince until silenced as he saw Sharise stand in his foyer. “Sharise? Wha-Wha-What are you doing here” stuttered the blonde man. He looked over to Sammi, seeing the clear coldness in her eyes as she looked between both of them.

“Vince we need to talk about what happened back in August,” said Sharise, straightening her shoulders back.

“What are you talking about? What did we do?” asked nervously Vince, hiding his hands in his jean pockets. Sammi rolled her eyes, shaking her head at Vince.

“Vince, I know you two fucked. You might as well spell it out for Vince, Sharise,” said Sammi. In that instance, Sharise dug through her purse to pull out a yellow envelope with nothing on the front of it.

“I need you to go to the clinic on this document for a paternity test next Monday. Because as of right now I know it’s yours but I need proof,” said Sharise. Vince yanked the envelope out of Sharises hand, ripping it open to see a court order in his name.

“What the fuck Sharise? You can’t be fucking serious?” asked Vince, scrunching his eyebrows at the woman.

“Look this is a two way street and the fact you made it seem you were single makes it worse. Be a fucking man and take responsiblity,” spatted Sharise, biting the inside of her cheek. “I really am sorry Sammi,” Sharise said to Sammi right as she walked out the door to leave the couple. They were silent for a minute, Vince looking at Sammi who dared not see his face.

“Sammi I’m sorry,” uttered Vince, stepping closer to Sammi. She put her hand to stop him from coming closer, showing him her glossy eyes.

“Not even a year, and you couldn’t stop yourself from getting your dick in another woman,” said Sammi, letting out a shaky breath. “I fucking knew something was up when I met her that night. Then come to find out she was from that fucking Tropicana place,”

Vince bit his lip, throwing the envelope far away from him. “It didn’t happen! I swear I didn’t have sex with her!”

“Then why is she fucking get a court order to prove your the dad!? Huh?!”

“I don’t know but I didn’t have sex with her, please believe me, Sammi,” said Vince, grabbing Sammi’s hands. Sammi yanked herself away from Vince’s hold, stepping towards the door. “Please Sammi, I love you!”

“Shut up! And answer me this one question, who would you go to Tropicana with?” asked Sammi, biting her lip.

Vince wrinkled his nose and eyebrows together, “What? What does that have to do with anything?”

“Just answer the fucking question,” ordered Sammi, tears on the brink of escaping her eyes.

“Some guys from other bands…”

“Then why the fuck should I believe you knowing you went to a bar without my brother and the other guys? Makes you pretty fucking shady if ask me,” said Sammi, pushing Vince away from her. “If you weren’t doing anything, then at least Tommy would’ve gone with you,”

“I love you. You know that,” pleaded Vince,

“If you loved me, you wouldn’t have fucked another woman!” said Sammi right as she shut the door hard in Vince’s face. Sammi stomped to her car, letting tears roll down her face without a care in the world. Once getting into her car, Sammi took a deep breath as she turned on her ignition to tear down the street.

January 17th, 1985

‘5 miss calls and 5 voice messages. New message’ “Sammi please answer. I know to give you your space I need to know everything is okay. I shouldn’t have lied about Sharise. Plea-” * delete*

January 21st, 1985

‘6 miss calls and 3 voice messages. New message’ “I think Tommy is gonna kill me one day. Athena threw her purse at my head when she came to get your stuff. I know I’m gonna be a dad but that doesn’t have to fuck-” * delete*

January 27th, 1985

“Sunny, please talk to me. I fucking miss you. Everything is going to fucking shit with the band and I need you. I need-” * delete*

January 30th, 1985

“Hey Princess it’s Nikki. I know I’ve been a bit M.I.A and kind of a shit head. I just wanted to say I’m sorry about Vince. Trust me I hate his ass too. Call if you need anything. Uh… miss you… ,”

“Hey Sam it’s Mick. Sorry about the Vince shit. Hope to see you soon even if I don’t say it out loud. Later,”

‘No other new messages’

February 2nd, 1985

Shopping bags in one hand and an ice cream cone in another, Sammi and her friends strolled down the busy mall for Emma’s version of therapy. Emma rambled away about her swimming team mates not being a team for once. Sabrina and Sammi laughed along with Emma’s complaining that was purely humorous. Sammi’s attention quickly zoned in on a gossip magazine front and center of a newsstand kiosk right by the girls. She walked right to it, groaned at the sight of a paparazzi photo of her in comparison to Vince and Sharise. Sammi then noticed other magazines with Vince’s face in smaller corners with her right next to him.

“So that’s her face? Was trying to remember what the blonde fucking looked like,” said Emma, walking right next to Sammi and yanked the magazine from the stand for a closer look. Sabrina looked over Emma’s shoulder to read the short headlines to grab readers attention.

“Motley Crue singer leaves girl next door brunette for a busty mud wrestler blonde. What is so different this time around? Read more on page 13,” read Sabrina, frowning in concentration.

“Oh bullshit, I left his ass,” hissed Sammi, throwing her ice cream in the trash before grabbing the magazine for herself.

“Hey! You got to buy those before you read them!” a 20 something year old guy shouted at the girls from his cash register.

“I’m on this stupid magazine, so shut it!” scoffed Sammi, flipping off the sales guy and walking off. Emma withheld a laugh while Sabrina apologized to the man before following Sammi to a bench by the fountain. Sammi flipped through the paper booklet, eyes going wide to see a two page spread on her and Vince. The idea of being around famous guys didn’t hit Sammi until recently. The recent growth in constant rock magazines helped Motley Crue become infamous in the celebrity world. Motley weren’t famous rock stars to Sammi, they were a group of idiots where one of them just so happened to be her brother.

“Well at least you look hot in these photos,” said Emma reading over Sammi’s shoulder.

“Yeah not hot enough to keep Vince around,” mumbled Sammi. Straightening her shoulders, Sammi held the magazine out in front to read out loud. “Singer of heavy metal band Motley Crue apparently isn’t too young to fall in love. Vince Neil was spotted out in Santa Monica with aspiring model Sharise Ruddell. While this may seem like a blossoming romance, is it too soon from his girl next door Samantha Bass? Ew I fucking hate this,” uttered Sammi, handing the magazine to Sabrina to read the rest of it.

“Who the hell told them you were in college for medicine?” asked Sabrina

“Probably rang up a few of our co-workers to get some shit on me,” mumbled Sammi, leaning her head on Emma’s shoulder.

“Well it doesn’t say that Sharise is pregnant if that’s a plus side. It’s basically a comparison of Sharise and you being complete opposites. You’re written as a sweetheart who can do no wrong,” said Sabrina stuffing the magazine in one of her shopping bags.

“Yeah because I have half a brain to not slash all of Vince’s tires. Athena gives enough death stares to him for me,” said Sammi.

“If you want we could stalk him at his favorite hang out spots to throw drinks on him!” cheerful suggested Emma, only getting a stern look from Sabrina and a small chuckle from Sammi.

“No. I think retail therapy is doing its job for right now. I haven’t cried all day so that’s something,” said Sammi, standing up from the bench with a small smile on her face.

“That’s the spirit! Hey since we’re still on the first floor, can we check out Contempo Casuals?” asked Sabrina, wide-eyed like a child asking their mom. Sammi’s face went dead, staying silent at the sound of her old job. Emma curled her lip at Sabrina, thinking of the idea. “Please I need new skirts, I feel like I wear the same ones all the time,”

“That’s because you buy the same ones all time, but that’s okay, S. We still love you,” joked Emma, grabbing Sammi by the hand to bring her to the place she hates the most. “Let’s go!”

*

“Hey Em, that top on the mannequin is totally your style,” pointed out Sabrina as the girls approached the store. Through the windows, Sammi could see Britney in the near front to organize the denim display. She scoffed at the sight of her former friend, not hearing from her for almost a year.

“Hi welcome to Contempo Casuals,” said Britney, smile disappearing at the sight of Sammi, “let me know if you need anything,”

“Yeah, where can I find that yellow top that’s on the mannequin?” asked Emma, hanging her arm around Sammi. Britney didn’t fail to eye Sammi even with Emma and Sabrina around. She studied Sammi’s appearance, seeing how she appeared to be better than the last time Britney saw her. Emma and Sabrina gave each other questioning looks, unaware of the two.

“How’s it going, Sammi?” asked Britney with a smile.

“Great, now can you just answer my friend's question?” demanded Sammi, crossing her arms against her chest, biting the inside of her cheek. “And remember you’re at work so don’t pretended to be Amanda, sweetie,”

Britney inhaled sharply “You can find the blouses on the right in the new arrivals section. If you have any questions, don’t be afraid to ask,” said the blonde as she walked away from them and further into the store.

Sammi gently pushed Emma’s arm off her shoulders, trying to disappear in between the racks of clothes. Emma and Sabrina sandwiched Sammi between them, looking to see if Britney was around.

“Okay spill. Who was that and why did it look like she hated you?” asked Emma, gently placing a hand on her friend's shoulder .

“Long story short, I used to work here and that was one of my former best friends/roommates who sold all my shit after leaving for 5 months on tour,” whispered Sammi, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. Both Emma and Sabrina’s eyes went wide, jaws almost dropping to the floor.

“When the hell did this happen?” asked Sabrina with a frown.

“A year ago. It happened right before I met you two and I buried that shit,” muttered Sammi, pouting at the memories.

“How come you never told us you worked here?” asked Emma. Sammi shrugged.

“Is this why you tiptoe around us about hanging out?” asked Sabrina. Sammi nodded with a frown. “Awe Sammi, you shouldn’t have felt like that,” said Sabrina, hugging Sammi with Emma following in her steps.

“Let’s just leave, I can get clothes at another store-”

“Samantha?” announced Britney making Sammi turn around to see the former friend. “Can we talk? Alone?” asked Britney, switching glares at Emma and Sabrina. Sammi gave questioning looks to Emma and Sabrina, getting a nod from Sabrina.

“Fine. You have 2 minutes out in the front,” ordered Sammi. Sammi led the way for Britney, staying cold to her. Emma glared Britney down to her core, making the shorter girl scared of the athlete. Sabrina only forced a smile that had an attitude as Britney walked right out the store.

“What do you want, Britney?” asked Sammi.

 “I just wanted to see how you were. You look great…” said Britney with a hesitant tone. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you…”

“Yeah it has been a while since you and Amanda sold all my shit and kicked me out of the condo that basically belonged to me,” barked Sammi.

Britney dropped her shoulders with a heavy sigh, feeling small from Sammi. “Look I’m sorry I listened to Amanda. I should’ve stopped her from selling your stuff, its just I pissed about you leaving and-,”

“Why were you mad at me in the first place? I don’t get it. For someone who kept encouraging me to be around Tommy and the guys, you definitely flipped a switch,”

“I was jealous. You were getting such a cool new life and I was stuck living in a shadow,” muttered Britney. “I mean the fact you didn’t come back begging for your old job shows something,”

“If you hate living in a shadow then don’t fucking listen to Amanda. She’s not a friend to anyone and only cares about herself. Emma and Sabrina have been better friends to me in a year than you and Amanda,” said Sammi.

“Yeah the tall tan one looks like she was about to hit me. I just wanted to apologize and that’s it. Now we can get back on track to being friends again,” said Britney with a smile.

Sammi curled her lip and raised an eyebrow, “Fuck no. Thanks for the apology but I’m not falling your bullshit,”

“What the fuck? Why not? I would’ve done it if it was the other way around,” said Britney, “We’ve known each other for years!”

“You wouldn’t have to because I’m not a jealous follower like you. This is what happens when you get on my bad side. You fucking stay there. And be a little good employee and tell my friends I’ll be out here waiting for them,” order Sammi, shooing away Britney with her hand.

Britney scoffed at Sammi turning on her heels, “Bitch!” she yelled out.

“Yeah yeah!” shouted Sammi.

*

Thin black heels of leather boots clanked down on the stone driveway of the only gothic mansion in Los Angeles. Sammi ran fingers through her loosely curled hair right as she rang the doorbell.  She swayed her weight from each foot, checking her new black manicure and twisting the rings on her left hand as she waited. Sammi straightened up once hearing the sound of the door unlock. A red lip smile grew on Sammi’s face when seeing Nikki have a surprised look on his face. He smirked at Sammi, but looked past her for anyone else to pop out from behind.

“Surprised to see me?” asked Sammi.

“Only because you came alone. Come on in, Princess. Came to give my jacket back or what?” asked Nikki, stepping aside as Sammi steadily made her way into his room. Sammi took off the jacket on her, aiming straight for the living room. She tossed on a nearby chair, revealing a lowcut halter top. Nikki's eyes trailed to her rear in the tight pants she wore, following like a lost puppy. As Sammi sat on the leather sofa, Nikki poured out two glasses of whiskey, passing her a glass once next to her. “So what brings you to my place?”

“Well you did leave a message on my answering machine. Something about you missing me?” teased softly Sammi, taking a sip of the strong liquor before placing it on the coffee table.

“That was only to cheer you up, clearly it worked if you’re here dressed for a party,” Nikki said in a flirtatious manner.

“Oh so you don’t miss your best friend? Guess I shouldn’t have come for a visit,” playfully said Sammi, getting up from her seat. She took three steps to get reeled into Nikki’s lap, a giggle erupting in her.

“Okay I missed you. Happy to hear in person, Princess?” asked Nikki, slowly sliding his hands to rest on Sammi’s butt. Sammi moved Nikki’s bangs to get a better look at his hazel eyes, seeing dark circles growing around them. Nikki grew tense under Sammi’s tough, swallowing hard in nervousness.

“Yes. Yes I am. You know I’ve never really seen your place. Your vampire cave in the middle of fancy L.A,” said Sammi, glancing around the living room alone.

“We’re adults Sammi. If you want to see my bedroom you can just say so,” said Nikki with a smirk, kissing Sammi on the neck.

“Yeah… I do wanna go to your bedroom. Maybe that’s where you keep the heroin,” said Sammi, her sultry smile turning to a scowl making Nikki tense up from. Sammi got off Nikki’s lap, standing right in front of him with her arms crossed. “Why the fuck are you doing heroin, huh? And taking it to the fucking studio!?” questioned Sammi with sternness in her voice. Nikki rubbed the sweat from his hands onto the sofa, looking away from Sammi.

“Look I’m sorry I gave your shitty boyfriend smack. I really thought it was coke!” yelled Nikki.

“I don’t care about that right now, I just want to know how the fuck you got into heroin! Was coke not enough?” asked Sammi, crouching down to get Nikki to look her in the eye. Nikki only looked above Sammi, not wanting to see her big eyes that could make him melt.

“It just fell into my lap when I was out with some people. It’s not the worst thing,” mumbled Nikki.

“It is the worst thing when it’s coming between you and your fucking job. Do you know how bad Elektra could drop your ass if they saw what happened two weeks ago?” said Sammi in hopes to snap Nikki out of it.

“We bring in money for Elektra so I doubt they’ll want to drop us,” said Nikki.

“Trust me with all the shit you four pull, you fucking lost Elektra money at some point. You can’t bullshit me, Nik, I’m just here to whip your ass into shape. Because I really don’t want all of you to fall,”

“Even with an asshole singer?” smirked Nikki. Sammi chuckled at Nikki, straightened up as she headed towards the upstairs of the house. Nikki’s sense went into instinct mode, eyes glued to Sammi while following her. Sammi glanced into open bedrooms, seeing some rooms a mess until stopping at the master bedroom doors. Nikki’s room was dark like him, red bed sheets almost like Vince but with a different feel. With only the bedside lamp on, Sammi could see an open wooden box on the nightstand. She could see a needle reflect from the yellow light with the baggies of heroin stuffed inside. “Sammi!” Nikki yelled down the hall, making Sammi close the box as she hid it behind her back. Nikki stormed into the bedroom, wide eyes looking around the place. Sammi extended her arm between them to keep a distance when Nikki marched to her.

“Sammi, I’m going to ask just this one time. Give me the box right now,” demanded Nikki, eyes bulging out with flaring nostrils. Sammi was almost scared of what Nikki could do, but didn’t want to back down.

“Nikki, you don’t need heroin okay? We can go to the drug clinic and help you out. They have stuff for-” utter Sammi, stepping away from the bedside slowly to reach the door. Nikki followed every one of Sammi’s movements, only wanting his drugs. He stepped closer to her, Sammi pressing her hand against his chest. Nikki grabbed Sammi by the wrist with force making her jump. She could feel the pressure, wincing at the feeling.

“If you don’t give me that box right now I’m going to rip it out of your hands,” hissed Nikki through his teeth. Sammi swallowed hard at the sight of Nikki, growing scared of him. “You’re a smart girl. Don’t fuck with a mans drugs,” Nikki squeezed Sammi’s wrist tighter, feeling a real sting of pain. Sammi's heart began beating out of her chest, having no thought of how to fix this. She had never been in a dilemma of a man putting their hands on her. In the cases of Vince getting mad, he’d always keep a distance from Sammi to calm down. Was Nikki always like this with girls or wasn’t because of the heroin?

“Nikki let go of my arm, you’re hurting me. Please,” begged Sammi, eyes watering up as she looked up at the man. “You don’t need this shit, Nik. We can do whatever the fuck you want if you just stop with the heroin before it gets bad,”

Nikki let go Sammi’s wrist slowly, running hands through his hair as he stepped away from the girl. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that. I really am sorry,”  Sammi stayed frozen, only following Nikki’s pacing with her eyes. “I’ll-I’ll-I’ll flush it down the toilet. Okay? There’s only a little bit left, I’ll flush it,” stuttered Nikki, rubbing his chin with anxiety.

“If I give it to you, you’re not gonna run?” asked Sammi, stepping towards the bathroom door. Nikki shook his head, reaching out to Sammi for his special box. In one safe swoop, Sammi ran to the bathroom, slamming the door shut with the lock. Nikki banged on the door hard, yelling out profanity to Sammi. Sammi ripped open all the little baggies over the toilet, feeling gross from the residue that stayed on her finger before finally flushing. She didn’t know what to do with the needles, jumping at the sound of Nikki hitting the wooden door harder. They looked dirty and used, afraid of even touching them. Sammi dumping everything from the box onto the floor, seeing the two needles crack. She stepped on the glass carefully to avoid the sharp metal points.

Sammi had a feeling Nikki would put his hands on her again once she opened the door, standing with complete balance as Sammi unlocked it. From all his body weight on the door, Nikki fell flat on his back against the cold bathroom tile, seeing his needles broken and Sammi looking down at him. He felt like shit for his outburst, catching the sadness in Sammi’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” Nikki mumbled under his breath. Sammi crouched down to Nikki, pushing away his hair from his face with a frown.

“Promise me you’re not gonna try to get it again?” begged Sammi with a whisper. Nikki lifted his upper body up, cupping Sammi’s face with his rough hand. Sammi only sank deeper into Nikki’s tough, giving him the look that affected any man. “Please?”

“I’ll try, Princess,” muttered Nikki, pressing his forehead against Sammi’s. Nikki kissed her forehead right before bringing Sammi’s lips to his. Sammi was hesitant with the kiss yet still fell right into Nikki, wanting him. Their lips danced perfectly in sync together, tongues slipping past each other to grow more in passion. Nikki’s hand trailed down Sammi’s chested, feeling her  left breast fit perfectly in his hand. He began slipping his hand under Sammi’s blouse until she pushed him and stood up over Nikki.

“Nope. Nope. I can’t,” said Sammi, walking out into the dimly lit bedroom. She flipped her hair to one side, Nikki quickly jumping up to follow Sammi. “I can’t just jump on you after my shit with Vince,”

Nikki scuffed at Sammi, gliding his hands on Sammi’s waist to pull her closer to him. “I don’t care about Vince. If you need to be under someone to get your mind off it, it’s perfectly fine,” Sammi pushed Nikki away, rolling her eyes at his words. “Oh come on, Princess you’re telling me you wouldn’t want to take your mind off him. Especially with someone who already knows you oh so well?” said Nikki, dropping feather light kisses on Sammi’s neck. Goosebumps rose on Sammi’s skin, trying her hardest to stand against Nikki.

“Can you really know what I like from only one time?” teased Sammi, tilting her head up with a coy smile. Nikki raised an eyebrow to Sammi, matching her attitude. He lifted Sammi up by her rear only to roughly toss her on his bed. Sammi yelped in enthusiasm, a smile coming on her face. Nikki ripped off Sammi’s heels, moving right above to take her smile away with his lips. Sammi buried her hand in Nikki’s hair with a light grip as their kisses turned hungry. The bassist's hands moved down on Sammi, untying knots that held her top together, slipping the fabric off.  

“Getting daring about not wearing bras anymore are we?,” joked Nikki, kissing down Sammi’s neck & chest until he reached her breasts. Sammi sighed in pleasure, shutting her eyes at the feeling of Nikki’s tongue dance on her nipple. While Nikki’s mouth stayed on Sammi, his hands went down, unzipping her pants as he slid them down with Sammi’s thong as well. Sammi pulled Nikki by his hair to bring him to her eyes, smirking at him while he scowled. In his way to gain dominance back, Nikki placed his hand right between Sammi’s legs, forcefully spreading them open. His finger teased Sammi’s clit ever so lightly, smirking at the sound of her gasps. Sammi arched her back off the bed with a moan, holding onto Nikki’s arm as he stayed playing with her slowly. He realized he didn’t like to rush with Sammi, Nikki enjoyed seeing Sammi become hungry for him, almost begging. Nikki also loved leaving lovebites in places only he knew if Sammi was fully clothed. He sank his teeth on the top of her breast as he inserted one finger into Sammi’s pussy, fingering her slowly gaining louder moans as a reward.

Sammi pulled up the hem of Nikki’s t-shirt, running her hand up Nikki’s chest. “I think you’re wearing too many clothes,” suggested Sammi, moaning as she did Nikki’s belt. Quickly Nikki stripped himself down to his boxers, Sammi having the pleasure to slip them off him. Sammi brought Nikki down to her lips as he rested right between her legs, hands feeling his toned back muscles to then squeeze his butt. Nikki chuckled under his breath, teasing Sammi’s slit with his hard dick. He smirked to hear Sammi hold back a moan as Nikki slowly inserted himself into her with complete ease from her wetness.

“Uh god,” gasped Sammi, throwing her head back against the pillow. She wrapped one leg around Nikki’s waist, beginning to take rhythm of their hips. With a tight grip, Nikki held onto Sammi’s leg, picking up his pace on her. He hid his face in the nape of Sammi’s neck, heavily breathing on her skin. “Oh Nikki,” moaned Sammi, scratching down Nikki’s back with her sharp nails. “Like it just like this, Princess?” Nikki uttered into Sammi’s ear making a shiver run down her spine. She nodded with pure ecstasy as Nikki rammed faster into, making her curl her toes from pleasure. Her moans became louder & louder, signalling she was so close to cumming as Nikki was. They were in sync the entire time, never missing a beat of their hips meeting faster and faster.

“Fuck!” gasped Sammi, feeling a relaxing numb run all over her body. A short moment later, Nikki groaned in relief while Sammi gave light kisses on his neck. He pulled out of Sammi, dropping himself right next to on the bed with a heavy chested. Sammi rested her arms above her head, breathing heavily with a dopey smile on her face. Nikki brought Sammi close to his chest, his fingers drawing figure 8’s on her bare forearm. They stayed silent for a good while, Sammi messing with the pendant of Nikki’s necklace. A necklace Sammi randomly bought him for his birthday. “I can’t believe we just did that,” mumbled Sammi on Nikki’s chest, still smiling.

Nikki chuckled, trying his best to stay relaxed right here. “You knew what you were doing coming in here dressed to kill,”

Sammi rested her chin against Nikki’s chested, playfully smirking at him. “I knew it would get your attention talk,”

“I really am sorry about grabbing you like that. I’ll make it up to you,” muttered Nikki, playing with a lock of the brunette's hair.

“Oh the sex wasn’t your way of making it up to me?” jokingly asked Sammi making Nikki smile with her. “It’s okay, just try to keep your promise and maybe you’ll be rewarded,”

“Oh?” asked Nikki, raising an eyebrow with his infamous smirk. “Is this gonna be our dirty little secret then?”

Sammi shuffles up, tenderly kissing Nikki and feeling his hand cup her cheek. She could feel the difference of kissing Vince to Nikki immediately, their personalities coming to light from under Sammi’s touch.

“Just don’t fuck it up, Nik,”

“I’ll try princess,” muttered Nikki, moving them both on their side. Nikki wrapped his arms around Sammi’s waist, spooning her as he hid his face in hair. Sammi kissed Nikki’s hand one last time before drifting off to sleep.

[a-tad-bit-peculiar]

Thoughts on Book Five.

WELCOME TO THE SHITSHOW EVERYBODY BUCKLE THE FUCK UP (spoilers and some capslock under the cut, lads!)

Alright, I have too many thoughts, so I’m going to sort them into a list, starting from ten and counting down to one. Also, as a disclaimer: I really enjoyed this book! I can’t wait to see how the series ends, but I have lots of things to complain about. So, here we go!

Also, no hate to anyone who liked these parts. This is just my personal opinion!

10. The Kids

I LOVE all of the content focusing on the kids and their personalities! The dinner scene where everyone is talking about the resurrection soup is a really good Enoch scene, plus there’s SO MUCH good Hugh in this book! 

On the other hand, I noticed a few negative things about Emma and Millard.

Millard felt really bossy and arrogant, or at least, Jacob thought he was. Multiple times throughout the book, his enthusiasm and passion is twisted into something annoying and condescending. On top of that, Emma was turned into nothing but her relationship with Abe. She doesn’t do anything but mope over her failed relationships, which brings me to my next point.

9. Jemma vs. Portdesh (aka the romance plot)

What the actual fuck.

Jacob Magellan Portman, please quit thinking with your dick. It’s okay to be single. You don’t need to get into a relationship with every heartbroken girl you find, okay?

My main few problems with Portdesh are these:

For one, Jacob just dropped his feelings for Emma far too quickly to be reasonable. For instance, I’m a teenager around Jacob’s age, and I just went through an incredibly messy breakup (not going to go into details due to privacy on my partner’s part). It’s been almost two months--which isn’t a lot of time, mind you--and I’m still dealing with the repercussions. Jacob dropped Emma far, FAR too quickly, rendering an ENTIRE BOOK SERIES OF EMOTIONAL DEVELOPMENT completely null. I’m not saying that Jacob and Emma should get back together, I’m saying that Jacob isn’t dealing with his feelings in a realistic way. He’s a teenager, and an incredibly dramatic one at that. Love is messy and imperfect. It’s okay for him to be heartbroken and single. Let him have negative feelings.

Also, there’s the whole thing about him doing the exact thing Abe did to Emma. Again.

For another: NOOR’S CHARACTER IS SQUANDERED BY JACOB.

Noor Pradesh has the potential to be an amazing, relatable character--it’s just that Jacob is in the way. Instead of being her own person and allowing for solo development, Noor is thrust immediately into the role of “love interest for protag.” Instead of Noor reacting on her own to situations, she always traces it back to Jacob, because Epic Teen Romance. Please, Jacob. Quit making her into this perfect trophy girl. Nobody wants to read about that.

This book barely passes the Bechdel test, and the only reason it does is because Miss Peregrine exists.

8. Caul and the Prophecy

I’m honestly really disappointed. Caul was dead and gone. The ‘oooo he knew all along’ thing feels lazy and bland. I would’ve much preferred if Leo was the main villain; the dangers of peculiar America were much more interesting to me than reviving Caul. Also, Leo just being suddenly chill feels like a total letdown. I really hope he’s planning something nasty in secret, otherwise the whole Niece Monologue would have been for nothing.

About the prophecy, I have a single thought: cheap. I’m honestly not too interested in where it leads at this point, as it feels impossible to resolve well in a single book. I mean, come on. There are SIX MORE saviors to find. In ONE. BOOK. Riggs better have something great hidden up his sleeve.

7. Hugh’s desperation

Now HERE”S how you write some heartbreak, folks! Jacob needs to take a few notes from this man, because Hugh definitely cares more than Jacob seems to.

Despite what Jacob tells the reader, however, I feel that Hugh’s completely justified in his feelings.

NOBODY gave two shits about finding Fiona in books four or five. Everyone just accepted it, gave a sad little nod, and moved on with their lives. Hell, the only mentions of Fiona were when Hugh was upset and Jacob felt bad for him.

Miss Peregrine wore black forever because of Victor, and yet here we are. Not caring about Fiona.

As much as I love Miss P, I smell some unintentionally written favoritism.

6. Abe

Are we gonna just never tie off all of the loose ends related to Abe? Like, what the fuck happened to Leo’s niece? Is there anything else he’s hiding? Was Emma rightfully jealous of V? Are there any other agents who worked with him? Are there any more peculiars mad at him? How does Jacob feel about him? Is Abe just...a bad dude now? 

Abe being written off as a bad guy seems wrong to me. He tried so hard to protect people, and this is how he’s repaid. Such a damn shame.

5. V

(Haha, number five is V. I’m hilarious.)

Oh, want a new and interesting character who’s revealed to be an ymbryne with a badass shotgun? One you’ve been looking for for literally the entire book? Who was arguably more important than the titular event? Who you can already tell you’re going to love, just by how she’s written?

Oops, too bad, she’s dead now.

4. Horace’s cravat

The best goddamn thing in this entire book.

3. The Deadriser Loop

Jacob should’ve taken Enoch with him instead of Noor. Bonding opportunity: wasted.

2. Sharon and the Anti-Ymbrynes

Now we’re fuckin’ talking. The loop protesters are SO intriguing, I really want to see more of them! But please, Ransom Riggs, don’t just write them off as fools!

Jacob needs a reason to act so reckless. One of the reasons the fanbase is beginning to dislike him is because he acts so selfishly all the time. If the protesters were used as a springboard to drive Jacob into going against the ymbrynes, he’d be much more justifiable. ESPECIALLY if the protester group is gradually shown to be bad, not immediately.

1. Fiona

Fiona Frauenfeld I missed you so goddamn much.

Fiona is LITERALLY my favorite character in this entire series. Yes, even in front of Enoch and Horace. She’s so interesting and complex, and the fact that she’s coded to be neurodivergent (PTSD) and is CANONICALLY MUTE is so, so great!

It’s just...even with her being so wonderfully reintroduced...

She feels like a scapegoat. 

Who was the one to go missing? Fiona. Who was the one presumed dead? Fiona. Who was the one who got her tongue cut out by wights? Fiona.

I know I’m not explaining my thoughts well, so I’ll put it this way:

It feels like a bit of a cop-out to have the mute person lose their tongue, but maybe that’s just me.

Despite that, though, I missed her and Hugh so much.Their reunion broke my heart into a billion pieces! I’m glad she’s back, and I really hope she gets lots of screentime in the next book! Her tongue being gone seems like a great opportunity for character development, and my fingers are crossed that Riggs plays with that in book six.

Fiona I love you sweetie mwah...

And that’s it for my thoughts! Once more, I really enjoyed this book! I’m just picking it apart because I love this series so much. Ciao, dudes!

[crackimagines]

Monastery of Angels (FE: Three Houses Short Fic)

Trails Of Cold Steel 3H AU Masterlist

Due to complications with the White Heron Cup, they are unable to host a dancing competition. The Monastery staff rushes to find a suitable replacement, and settle on a opera-like performance. Deciding to have the most interesting choice to make this year memorable, they decide to choose two polar opposites to sing.

Instructor Sara, chronic alcoholic and the laziest staff member of Garreg Mach.

Seteth, the most uptight and square person at Garreg Mach.

And they both despise each other.

Even if the performance ends with a catastrophic result, it would at least do the job of being a memorable year for the students.

------

Rean, Elliot, and Annette walked down the dorm’s rooms together, discussing various things ranging from schoolwork to plans for the remainder of the day.

(Annette) “I’m so bummed out they had to cancel the White Heron Cup, I was looking forward to it! I don’t know what to do because I was going to practice dancing.”

(Elliot) “Oh, the Blue Lions decided on Annette?”

(Rean) “Yeah, it was either that or Mercedes, but she insisted on Annette. Though, I guess all those plans went out the window. Did the Golden Deers decide on anyone?”

(Elliot) “We were going to choose Leonie I think. The other girls in the group didn’t want to do it. I think I was about to be the one dancing but, hah I’m glad I wasn’t!”

(Annette) “Are we even going to be doing anything on that day now?”

- They sat on the benches near the lake and greenhouse, continuing their conversation.

(Rean) “Who knows? The announcement was just made yesterday and we still got a week before it happens. I doubt they could find anything in time.”

(Sharon) “Oh, I wouldn’t doubt them that much Master Rean!”

(Rean) “WOAH!”

All of them jumped hearing a voice above them. Sharon was looking over the railing with a smile.

(Annette) “EEK!”

(Elliot) “AH! O-Oh, Sharon!”

(Annette) “When were you there?!”

(Sharon) “Just now, I apologize for startling you all! I actually was looking for Elliot!”

(Elliot) “For what?”

(Sharon) “The staff requires your musical expertise! We were originally going to send the Golden Deer’s retainer, but she wouldn’t be as fast!”

(Rean) “More like she wouldn’t get here at all...”

(Elliot) “Well, all right then. I’m honestly not sure how much of a help I can be since I play only the violin.”

(Sharon) “I bid you all a good day.”

She nodded with her head and vanished behind the railing once again. Elliot waved goodbye to the two and left with Sharon.

(Annette) “How does she keep appearing out of nowhere like that?”

(Rean) “Frankly, I’m not sure I want the answer...”

Garreg Mach’s Faculty Room, 10 minutes earlier...

(Manuela) “A musical performance? My, that’s an excellent idea!”

(Hanneman) “I agree, it could be an enticing experience!”

(Jeralt) “Oh goddess, it’s not going to be a sappy love opera, is it?”

(Catherine) “Come on, nothing like a good romance tale to spark up the tears! It’ll get all the emotional students crying, and it’d be funny!”

(Shamir) “I’m not opposed to it. Can’t say I’d be interested though.”

(Seteth) “Well, it’s only a suggestion. Lady Rhea says we are to do as we see fit.”

(Byleth) “Who’s going to be our singers? Dorothea and Manuela seem to be an obvious choice.”

(Sara) “If I remember correctly, Emma from my class was about to sing before we got transported here. Maybe we can pester her to get to singing?”

(Towa) “I-I guess worse case scenario, Angelica, Crow, and I could get on stage like last year.”

(Flayn) “May I make a recommendation?”

(Angelica) “Sure kiddo. What’s on your mind?”

(Flayn) “Sara and Seteth could perform on stage! Two lovers entering the stagelights together!”

(Seteth) “WHAT?! E-Er...Flayn, I explained this before, Sara and I are co-workers. We’re not actually engaged.”

(Sara) “Psh, why keep it a secret anymore, Seteth?”

(Seteth) “SHUT. UP.”

(Sara) “In all seriousness Flayn, I’ve never sang for an audience in my life. Doubt Seteth has either.”

(Jeralt) “You two doing a musical...hell, that’s something I’d pay to watch!”

(Byleth) “Agreed.”

(Shamir) “This sounds like a horrible idea. I’m in.”

(Manuela) “Hoho, so it’s decided then?”

Sara’s smile went away as Seteth’s eyes started to widen.

(Hanneman) “This will certainly provide an interesting result, whether or not their performances are absolutely horrid.”

(Seteth) “ABSOLUTELY NOT! I reject to this!”

(Sara) “Same here! I am NOT singing with some old fart!”

The door opened and everyone suddenly went quiet.

(Rhea) “I heard screaming from down the hall. Is everything alright?”

(Seteth) “L-Lady Rhea! I apologize for the commotion. In brief, they are recommending a musical performance with Valestein and I front and center together! It’s a bad plan, you must agree!”

(Rhea) “And who was the one who suggested it?”

(Flayn) “It was me, Lady Rhea. Our job is to create an interesting year for the students. correct? I thought this line of action would be sufficient enough for that requirement!”

(Seteth) “I apologize for her abhorrent idea.”

(Rhea) “I absolutely agree. This is a terrible idea-”

(Sara) “Oh thank Adios.”

(Rhea) “A terrible idea I would like to see come true as well.”

(Seteth) “HUH?!”

Rhea smiled at the two.

(Rhea) “If you are not to agree willingly, then I order you as Archbishop to sing with Instructor Valestein. The order goes to you as well, Sara.”

(Seteth) “B-But...!” sigh “As you wish, Lady Rhea. Please excuse me.”

Seteth left the room. Sara quickly followed out the door and headed straight for the bar.

(Shamir) “Wow, you DO have a sense of humor.”

(Catherine) “Hey, don’t speak like that to her!”

(Jeralt) “Oh man, this is gonna be a good time.”

(Byleth) snrk “I’ll uh, talk with Sara to make sure she’s sober enough to teach tomorrow.”

(Manuela) “Towa, can you get your maid to gather the most musically talented of Class VII? I must speak with Dorothea in writing our song!”

(Towa) “You got it, Manuela! Come on Angelica!”

(Flayn) “I wonder why they act as if they hate each other?”

(Hanneman) “Er...-”

(Manuela) “Don’t you DARE tell her!”

(Flayn) ???

Next week, day of the performance...

Manuela and Dorothea poured all their strength into writing the song that the two would perform, and afterwards gathered the students who could play musical instruments together.

After several rehearsals and days of hangover, the day of reckoning had arrived.

(Rhea) “It is my regret that due to complications, we are unable to perform with the White Heron Cup. However, we have brought in a substitute that I hope is satisfactory to make up for this unfortunate circumstance. A musical performance by our students and staff of the academy!”

Everyone clapped gently and watched as everyone got into positions.

(Manuela) “Oh, this is it Dorothea! Our genius coming to life!”

(Dorothea) “They better do this right, or I’m killing them!”

(Elliot) “Hah, I doubt their pride would let them fail!”

(Dorothea) “Come on, Ellie! This is THOSE two we’re talking about!”

(Emma) “Oh, here they come!”

Class VII and several of the staff in the audience began clapping and cheering, in a mocking but loving way.

(Rean) “You got this instructor!”

(Alisa) “Knock ‘em dead!”

(Millium) “WOOOOOOOO! SARAAAAAAA!”’

(Laura) “I’ve never seen a musical before, and I doubt THIS would be a good representation of one.”

(Jeralt) “Make this entertaining will ya?”

(Byleth) “I made bets with the mercs to say that this will end terribly!”

(Jeralt) “That’s my boy!”

(Machias) “100 mira says that blood’s gonna spill.”

(Sharon) “200 says we have to clean up the mess!”

(Fie) “I’ll take those odds.”

(Jusis) “Whose idea even was this?”

(Towa) “It was Flayn’s...I can’t say I agree that it’s a good plan though.”

(Angelica) “It’ll be funny at least!”

(Hanneman) “While I agree, you shouldn’t doubt Manuela and Dorothea’s musical capabilities. I’m sure we’re in for a surprise!”

(Catherine) “Crap, how much is Byleth betting?”

(Shamir) “100 gold I think. We should get the coins in before the song starts.”

Meanwhile, Sara and Seteth were standing next to each other, looking at the audience.

(Seteth) “This is just a fine mess you got us into!”

(Sara) “Psh, how is this MY fault?!”

(Seteth) “Oh I don’t know, maybe it’s the fact YOU SAID TO FLAYN YOU WERE GOING TO MARRY ME?!”

(Sara) “Don’t you yell at me you old sonuvabitch! You should be lucky people other than Flayn suddenly pay attention to you! Thanks to my little joke, you’re able to even be in the spotlight!”

(Seteth) “AS IF IT’S SOMETHING TO BRAG ABOUT BEING WITH YOU! YOU’D BE WASTING AWAY IN THE BARS IF IT WERE NOT FOR ME AND LADY RHEA GIVING YOU THIS JOB! ONCE THIS IS OVER, FIND A MAN YOU CAN MARRY AND LEECH OFF OF, YOU ALCOHOLIC WENCH!”

(Sara) “HOW ABOUT I MARRY MY FOOT TO YOUR FACE, JACKASS?!”

(Seteth) “I’D LIKE YO SEE YOU TRY!”

Sara and Seteth grabbed each other’s collar ready to kill. Both rolling up their fists to punch.

When the curtains finally rolled back, most of the audience saw that they were about to murder each other. They quickly let go and cleared their throats.

(Flayn) “I wonder what love song Dorothea and Manuela wrote?”

(Manuela) “Band...BEGIN!”

---

[You’re Nothing Without Me - City of Angels]

(Seteth) 

You are some gumshoe, 

You just don’t think well

Get this straight Valestein,

You can go straight to hell!

Is your mouth lonely,

With one foot in there?

Sara your brain only holds thoughts I put in there!

Just, what you are I’ll spell out:

You, are a major pain!

One speck of lint that fell out,

The last time that I picked my brain!  

(Sara)

You are so jealous 

Of my fight record!

Seteth do tell us your feeble hack record

Your weak knees brand you,

Soft and unstable!

One small threat,

And you fold like a card table!

You, drool at my adventures!

Your, broads in bed are bored!

Go, home and soak your dentures,

Your sword is no match for my gun!

(Sara/Seteth)

You're nothing! 

Without me!

A no-one who'd go undefined!

You wouldn't exist,

You'd never be missed!

I tell you you're out of my mind!

A show off!

A blowhard!

You're equal parts hot air and gall!

And no one would doubt me,

Without me you're nothing at all!  

(Seteth)

You're in my house,

I'm still your employer,

I call each shot,

I'm your private dic-tator!  

(Sara)

You are so thick, you,

Eat, breathe, sleep fiction!

I'm your meal ticket,

Knee-deep in cheap fiction!

(Seteth)

You, gloating ignoramus!

You, haven’t any shame!

(Sara)

Hey, I’m a famous-shamus!

And most people don’t your name!

(Seteth) “Drunk.”

(Sara) “Uptight.”

(Seteth) “Child!”

(Sara) “Old man!”

(Seteth) 

“BITCH!”

(Sara) 

“ASSHOLE!”

(Sara/Seteth)

You’re nothing!

Without me!

Without me you’d just disappear!

Right into thin air,

And no one would care,

Or notice you ever were here!

A puppet! 

An upstart!

A loser who's destined to fall!

I'm everything you always wanted to be!

Let's deal with the issue:

You wish you were me!

You're nothing without me!

Without me you're nothiiiiiiiiiing,

AT AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLL!

---

Sara and Seteth were ready to go back to murdering each other before hearing a thunderous applause.

(Manuela) “GODDESS, WE DID IT DOROTHEA!”

(Dorothea) “HOLD ME! HAHAHAA-”

(Elliot) “That was a lot of fun...I-If not scary.”

(Emma) “We performed this so many times but it sounded like they didn’t even need the script to sing their hatred!”

(Flayn) “...That wasn’t a love song at all!”

(Catherine) “Ooooh crap. We owe Byleth money.”

(Shamir) “Good thing I betted for her.”

(Catherine) “YOU TRAITOR!”

(Byleth) “Hah, got some good cash tonight!”

(Jeralt) “Son of a...I lost to my own kid in a gamble...”

(Fie) “Hah, I got some Mira from you, Machias!”

(Machias) “Damn it!”

(Rean) “That was amazing! Good job you guys!”

Sara and Seteth bowed before heading out of the room.

(Sara) “Hmph. Not bad, considering it’s you.”

(Seteth) “I could say the same. Now, let us never speak of this again.”

(Sara) “Agreed. I’m going to drink myself to death tonight to forget all about this.”

(Seteth) “Please do...”

They both went their separate ways for that night. Seteth was found in his room face first into his pillow by Flayn while Sara was carried home by Byleth after being too drunk.

[revisionaryhistory]

Three Days ~ 35

Catch up on AO3

~*~Emma~*~

Sebastian's hands are incredible. The way he touched my body set me on fire. His thumb on my clit was secondary to his fingers. He stroked the perfect spot inside me. I'd never had someone touch me so intentionally. Had he asked, I couldn't have told him what I needed. I had no idea. Sebastian did. I remembered what he'd said our first night, the sex would get better as he learned how to touch me. He was learning now, paying attention to my reaction and changing accordingly. I didn't understand a word he was saying and it wasn't solely because he was speaking Romanian. He spoke in long sentences next to my ear where I could feel his breath.

I felt the pressure start to build and dug my nails into his bicep.

Sebastian's face came into view and the Romanian stopped, "You gonna come for me, baby."

That I didn't instantly was a miracle. "I am." His touch became firmer. "Oh fuck, Bastian. Your fingers. .." My words were cut off by my orgasm. The last thing I saw before I went blind, I mean closed my eyes, was his smile.

Sebastian kissed my neck and moved his fingers from inside me to my clit. "Wanna come again?"

Thirty seconds later I did. My body shook and I grabbed his wrist, too sensitive for more touch. I fisted the hair on the back of his head and pulled him away, where I could see him. His blue eyes were sparkling and the line of his lips was edging close to a smirk, "Yes?"

I loosened my hold on his hair, "You have very talented fingers."

"I couldn't leave you hanging." He pushed his head back against my hand. "I like the hair pulling."

"I think I was going to kiss you." I squeezed my eyes together for a moment, "My brain's a little scrambled."

Sebastian brought his mouth to mine, his tongue gently caressing mine. The intensity was high. Not an excited ramping up, more of a not wanting to let go holding on. Still, over time we did. He held me tight and I relaxed with my head on his shoulder. I didn't really know where to go after literally being fucked into a wall. I heard myself sign contentedly.

Sebastian laughed, "Yeah, I agree."

I stretched out across his lap, leaning back on the arm of the couch and wiggling my toes. A question popped in my mind, "What were you saying?"

"You're beautiful. You make me feel good. I’m glad I got here early to spend more time with you." He kissed me softly, "And a bunch of dirty stuff that would sound bad right now, but I'II happily repeat later."

"That sounds fun!" I ran my fingers over his cheek and down his chest. "We got the tournament bracket last night."

"Did you?" He rubbed his hand on my hip. "What seed are you? Is there a team name?"

"There is a team name. We are the Demonic Crickets." I couldn’t help but laugh.

"I feel a story coming."

"It's from Schitt's Creek." His lack of expression said he hadn't seen it. I reached behind me, patting the table to find the remote. I quickly had Season 1 Episode 7 "Turkey Shoot” pulled up on Plex. "It’s the opening." I let it play, pleased with his expression and light laughter. I paused at the credits. "I wanted milky exoskeleton, but Pete thought it sounded dirty and would be hard to pronounce drunk."

"He might have a point with the second part. Doesn't sound dirty, unless maybe your drunk and it comes out milky secretions."

I laughed, "Pete said those exact words. You two are going to get along." I remembered the first part of his question, "We're the three seed. First round is at noon. Have to be there at eleven."

"Three is good. Not the pressure of the one spot, or the angry runner up number two, or too far down to be taken seriously. Three is perfect to sneak in and take over."

I wasn't sure if he knew anything about seeding or was being supportive. "I like being a three. We play the five seed and that should be a good match, we'll get the nerves out and can make adjustments if our plan isn't working. One plays eight and two plays seven. Those mess with your head more. If you struggle you question how you'll do with a higher seed, but if you win easy you can get overconfident. Plus, if you breeze through you don't figure out what adjustments you need."

"This is going to be fun."

"I hope you’ll have fun. I'll have a blast." I picked up the remote to turn the TV off.

"No, let's watch. I've never seen Schitt's Creek. We'll find something I love that you haven't seen and trade off."

"I'll go back to episode one, so you know what’s going on." I moved around to sit a little more facing the TV with my legs still over his lap. I wanted to be able to watch the show and his face. And I just wanted to look at him.

Several episodes, tons of laughter, and making out during the credits later I heard a strange gurgling sound. I put my hand on Sebastian's stomach, "Hungry, baby?"

"Sounds like I am." He put his hand over mine, assuring I didn’t move. "I made us a reservation at the place we went last week. I hope that's alright."

"Same place?" There were several good places around town, but he wouldn't know them.

"Good food." He smiled, "Last week I wanted to take a walk by the river, but the storm ruined it."

I mumbled, "Among other things."

We both laughed. "Good memories too."

He picked my hand up off his stomach and brought it to his mouth. "Very. Reservation at seven."

I hit the info button on the remote. It was almost six thirty. "I need to change."

"The fairy costume has grown on me." He fluffed my skirt.

"My wings are smashed. Besides us out to dinner with me in a fairy costume is a guaranteed picture on Instagram that I don’t want to explain."

Sebastian pulled me into a hug. "I should change too."

"At least zip your jeans." I flipped the fabric before I stood up. He still had my hand and I waited for him to stand. I was amused by how dressed we were. His pants were open and mine were by the door. It had been a very targeted activity.

The look on Sebastian's face told me he was thinking something similar. He nodded to the door, "I'll grab my bag and your pants."

"Thank you." We separated at the stairs and I ran up. What to wear. What to wear. I ducked into the bath room to freshen up and came out in my bathrobe. Sebastian was in his boxers and a t-shirt. My mouth watered.

Sebastian was pulling things out of his bag, laying them on the bed. He paused to look me up and down. "Next weekend I'd like to take you out someplace nice."

I clasped my hands between my breasts, raising my shoulders with excitement, "Dress up in girl clothes nice?"

His eyebrows raised with the nod of his head and smile, "Exactly."

I sighed dramatically, "I miss dressing up and going out to dinner." I closed my eyes, "Live music, plays, art openings."

"Then next weekend you’re in luck." He picked up his shaving kit, heading toward the bathroom. He stopped to kiss me, "I know places to go in NY, unlike here.”

"There's some fine dining places here. Haven't dated much here, but I can research. Won't have the same energy as the city."

He closed the bathroom door, "I’m happy and sad you don't know good date spots."

I walked into my closet to find something to make my date's pants tight. Casual, cute, and a touch of sexy. I was pulling on my white mini skirt with an eyelet bottom when Sebastian came to the closet door. He was dressed in a pair of khaki shorts, a black polo, and a pair of loafers. "You look handsome." I was still adjusting to his shorn beard, with how young he looked. There was a hook on the door for my robe and I slid it off, handing it to Sebastian. He missed the hook because he wasn't looking in the right direction. He was looking at me in a bra and miniskirt. I could see him swallow hard, "This closer to your fantasy?"

"Closer, but not quite."

I took my blue chambray shirt of the hanger and dropped it over my head. It had a loose contoured cut and gathered in a knot at my hip. I added a few long necklaces and matching earrings before picking up my wedge sandals. Sebastian was blocking the door, his body filling the space. I put my hands on his waist and smoothed around to his back. Our hips connected, but there was space between our upper bodies. He kissed my head, "We look like casual summer lovers out for a night.

"Pretty accurate."

"Causal looking, not casual lovers."

The look on his face stopped my heart. I pressed my lips to his for a quick kiss that took on a life of its own, morphing in to a lazy long kiss. I broke the kiss and buried my nose against him, "You smell fucking delicious." I drew in a deep breath and let out a sigh.

"Didn’t bring cologne to move my parents."

"We had many things working against up last weekend.”

"And yet here we are."

'Yes, we are." I sat down on the bed to put on my shoes. "Adversity becomes us."

Sebastian knelt on the floor in front of me, sliding my shoe on my foot, “This is the least difficult thing ever.”  He took my hands as he stood up and brought me into his arms.

We stood holding onto each other for a long time. Last weekend was touching on Friday, sharing secrets on Saturday, hugging on Sunday, and sex on Monday. Seemed tonight’s theme was romance. I closed my eyes and clung to him, feeling the hard plane of his chest against my cheek and the slight twitch of a muscle in his back. I’d ask him last week if it was crazy to think you were falling for someone after three days. Thankfully he’d said no, because I didn’t think I was falling for him now, I knew I was. I wasn’t in love with him, but it wouldn’t take long, which is different for me. I don’t get emotionally involved with people easily, except those rare times like with Angie. It takes a while for me to trust and attach. Standing here wrapped in his arms I didn’t want to let go. Part of not wanting to let go was as sure as I was that I could fall in love with him, I knew the same was true for him, and right this second it felt so good.

Sebastian kissed my head and ran his hand down my arm to take my hand before stepping away, “Ready to go?”

“Yeah.” I nodded slightly and hoped my legs were going to work. I grabbed my purse on the way out the door, “Do you want to drive?”

“Yes, please.”

I got a thrill at having this man driving my vehicle. Absolutely ridiculous. If I didn’t know better, I’d think I was fifteen going my first date. It wasn’t even our first date. “Code is 0418.” He punched the code into the driver’s side door, hit the unlock button, and walked me to the other side of the car, giving me a kiss before closing the door.

He got in and adjusted the seat and mirrors before starting the engine, “I like driving.”

“I like being driven.” I waited until he buckled his seat belt before laying my hand on his leg. I couldn’t help but touch him and his smile made my stomach flip. “Remember how to get there?”

“Yeah.” He nodded and glanced over, “I drove. If I don’t drive, I don’t remember how to get anywhere. How far away is the tournament?”

“Umm, five minutes. It’s over by the Whole Foods. We should take an Uber.”

“Planning on getting me too drunk to drive?”

“And they set up checkpoints.”

The restaurant was quite a bit busier than last week. We were parked further away, but closer to the river walk. “Don’t move.”

He jumped out of the car and came around to my side, opening the door, and taking my hand. I needed to say something about this. I waited for him to close the door. “Wait a second.”

“What’s up?” He faced me and looked expectantly.

“You driving and opening doors, the chivalrous stuff. I appreciate it. I like how you treat me. You’re a gentleman.”

Sebastian smiled sheepishly, “I just fucked you into a wall.”

I gasped, “Oh my god.” I could feel my cheeks burning.

His expression dropped, “You’re blushing.” He pulled me close, holding my head to him. “Emma, I’m sorry.”

I started laughing, pushed him away and put my hand on his chest. “Just take the compliment, Seb.”

He laughed and wrapped his hand around mine, “Thank you.”

[feelthepainofdodick]

Love For Hire - Ch. 2 - (D.D. x Reader)

Summary: David hires you to be his fake girlfriend for a month to get the diza stans off his back. This experience is the craziest thing that has ever happened to you and the emotional consequences that ensue are something you never expected.

Notes: Hey yall! Thank you all so so much for the support on my first chapter on the new series. It definitely makes me more nervous now but also incredibly excited. I hope all of yall enjoy. Also this series is definitely a slow burn kind of romance so just bare with me. Much love, Julie.

Word Count: 1392 

CHAPTER ONE - CHAPTER THREE

David walks out of his bedroom into the kitchen to find Natalie making breakfast.

“Hey” He grunts sleepily as he walks over to the refrigerator to get water.

Natalie turns away from the stove to face him. “Hey. So… Did you sleep on it?”

“Yes, I slept on it and I’m still not sure.” He says groggily, still half asleep.

“Not sure? I can’t think of any cons to this idea.”

“I know I know. You’re right. I think I’m just iffy because hiring someone to be my fake girlfriend just seems weird, ya know?” Natalie nodded in agreement.

“I know its weird but it’s your best chance at finally putting yourself first in your career.” She says sympathetically. 

David nodded. “Okay fine. I’ll do it.” He sighs in defeat.

“Great! Because she’s landing in a few hours.”

David snaps his head up at Natalie suddenly wide awake. “What!? She’s already coming? Nat! What the fuck! I know nothing about this girl. I need to make the house look decent. We need to set up the guest bedroom! I don’t even know what I’m going to say. Are we picking her up?” He questions frantically.

Natalie chuckles. “David. Calm down. I talked to (Y/N) last night. She’s super chill and nice. The house looks fine. I already made the guest bedroom. You just have to act like a normal human, dumbass. She’s a person, so treat her like you would treat any one of our friends because for the next month that is basically what she is. And, yes, we are going to the airport to pick her up.”

David does a long, exasperated sigh. “You are annoying.” He stalks off to his room to get ready to go pick you up.

(Y/N)’s POV:

When Natalie told you she booked the flight you immediately started packing. You were going to LA which meant you needed little to no sweaters or anything warm for that matter. You didn’t have much in your tiny boston apartment so it didn’t take long to pack. Natalie booked the flight for a few hours from now so you had to be quick.

On your way to the airport, you leave a quick message for your boss at the shitty deli shop you worked for. 

Hey Jim. It’s (Y/N). I’m going to California for a month. Sorry I didn’t give you longer notice. I assume you’re going to fire me so thanks for paying me like shit. Hope I never see you again.

You hung up laughing, a quiet relief resting over you; you decided to dial your best friend. She answered within a few rings.

Emma: “Hey hun. What’s up?”

(Y/N): “I’ve got something to tell you...” You say nervously.

Emma: “Oh god. Don’t tell me your pregnant. I don’t need no baby cramping our style.” She says jokingly but also partially serious.

(Y/N): You chuckle softly. “No dumbass. I’m going to LA for a month.” You blurt out.

Emma: “What the fuck. That’s worse! Why are you going to LA? I know you can’t afford it because I can’t afford that.”

(Y/N): “You know how I’ve been escorting to pay my rent?”

Emma: “Yes…?”

(Y/N): “Well I got offered to do a month long job in LA for this guy named David Dobrik to be his pretend girlfriend.”

Emma: “Wait. What? David Dobrik hired you to be his pretend girlfriend?!?”

(Y/N): “Yeah. Who is this guy anyway? Is he like super famous or something?”

Emma: “Ugh I swear to god (Y/N). You live under a rock. Do you remember that video I sent you, like, a few days ago where this girl, Natalie, was scared that there were ghosts in her house so they brought ghost whisperer people. Those videos are called vlogs and David makes them twice a week and he has like over 13 million subscribers.”

(Y/N): “That sounds intense. And yeah! I do remember that video, it was super funny. Wait did you say Natalie? I talked to some girl named Natalie about the job last night.”

Emma: “You got to talk to Natalie!?! I fucking hate you. I swear to god hoe if you don’t do your research on him and the whole vlog squad before you land in LA, I’m gonna strangle you.”

(Y/N): You laugh. “What’s a vlog squad?”

Emma: She loudly sighs. “You’ll find out.”

(Y/N): “Okay. Okay. I’ll do my research, I promise.”

Emma: “You better. I’m gonna miss you hoe. Send me updates and sneak in some photos of David for me.”

(Y/N): Chuckling, “I’ll try, weirdo. I’m going to miss you too. Just pulled over at the airport. I’ll text you when I land. Love you.”

Emma: “Have fun! Love you.”

You hung up the phone and walked into the airport towards your gate. Based on the details Natalie gave you, it was a six hour flight, making it plenty of time to do your research. You board your plane, wait for take off, and open your laptop going to David Dobrik’s youtube channel. Over the next six hours you are watching vlog after vlog, scouring over his and the vlog squad’s social medias, and watch interviews he has done. By the time the plane started descending into LAX you were stunned. This 22 year old man has made a huge career for himself over social media and it was intimidating, to say the least. You started to think about the job you had to do. After watching a few old vlogs, some interviews, and the breakup vlog; you understood why he needed you to distract the world from his ex. You were meant to be a shiny new object for his fans and the media to eat up so they wouldn’t talk about his ex so much.

After doing all your research, you had a lot more mixed emotions. On the one hand, you were excited because of the social media experience, it was a new paying job in a new city, and a new group of seemingly fun people to hang out with. On the other hand, your entire job there is to scam 13 million people into thinking you are this guy’s girlfriend, you will be heavily looked at under a microscope by the fans and the press, and you were just plain scared. You didn’t have time to process your emotions because you were already being boarded out of the plain. 

You turn on your phone to a message from Natalie saying she were waiting outside. You walk out of the airport into the California heat to find Natalie leaning on the side of a white Tesla. You walk towards her, waving awkwardly. She spots you and meets you halfway giving you a hug.

She pulls away,smiling, and says. “Oh my god hi! Wow you are just as pretty in person. Thought you might be a catfish or something.” You chuckle.

“Nope. No catfish. So where are we heading?” You question walking over to the trunk to put your bags in. You instantly felt comfortable around her.

“We are heading to David’s house so you can get you settled in and then we can explain to you what we are hoping to get out of hiring you.” 

As you open the back seat you say. “I’m supposed to be the pretend girlfriend of your boss right?” Now inside the Tesla.

“Yup.” A male voice says from the front, startling you. “That would be me.” David saying turning around, extending his hand out for you to shake.

You grab his hand to shake. “Hi sorry. I didn’t know you were here too. I’m (Y/N).” Letting go of his hand.

“I’m David.” He says facing forward, putting the car into drive, and driving out. You stare out the window as he drives out of the airport traffic when you hear Dancing Queen by ABBA playing softly in the speakers. You snap your head up, “Hey can you raise the volume, I love that song.” 

David and Natalie grin, “we are going to get along great,” he mutters as he raises the volume. You smile, laying your head back on the window staring out into the new city you were going to call home for the next month.

----

Tags: If you want to be tagged let me know... @live-awkward @roxyedobrik @pakibaddie  @duhdobrik

[idairsauthor]

Women On Fire reviews Once Upon A Time

So we have started watching Once Upon a Time and are midway through Season 2. PJ is very into it. It’s a bit weird for me for a specific reason: Because OUAT and WOF both use a lot of fairy tale/fantasy tropes, some things that I think of as very specifically WOF things show up sort of prominently in OUAT and...that’s weird. So when I watch it, I can’t help thinking about how this show would play with the WOF crowd. Behind the cut tag, some of them will be discussing their reactions. It’ll involve spoilers for seasons 1-2 of OUAT and basically all of WOF.

PLAIDDER: All right, so, for the sake of any readers who may remember this show well enough to care where we are with it, we’re about midway through Season 2. Emma and Snow have returned from the Bad Place, and Cora has followed them and has just faked Regina killing Archie, causing Emma et al. to turn on the partially-redeemed Regina, while actually keeping Archie captive on Hook’s invisible pirate ship. OK?

AINE: I suppose WOF’s plot would also sound pretty stupid if you had to summarize it in one paragraph. 

THEAMH: I don’t think it would sound THAT stupid.

PLAIDDER: ANYWAY! I just wanted to get your reactions to some of the...you know...correspondences.

THEAMH: Oh, you mean the whole reuniting the separated lovers thing? You know, “We will always find each other!”

ISTRIA: “But will we always lose each other? Is that our fate?”

PLAIDDER: To be honest I do kind of think that given that the show runs for seven seasons, it pretty much is gonna be their fate. The whole ‘waking the pseudo-dead beloved with true love’s kiss’ has already been done so many damn times and yet I fear it will happen with increasing frequency as we--

THEAMH: I’m sorry, you do not have a leg to stand on there. Istri, how many times have we--

ISTRIA: So let’s see...you lose me, you find me, you get taken prisoner, I find you. That’s all just up to Greenhaven. Then you get arrested by those traitors at Lythril’s old castle--

THEAMH: You lose me--

ISTRIA: Trial at Mypril--

THEAMH: You find me. Giant arani fight at Amranth--

ISTRIA: You lose me, you find me. 

THEAMH: I think that’s the last time. So that’s...

ISTRIA: No, no, we’re forgetting about “Homeswept.”

THEAMH: Oh FNAA. Idair’s HAIRPINS. Well I mean can you blame me?

ISTRIA: I cannot.

THEAMH: Yes. You lose me, I lose you, we manage to more or less find each other--

PLAIDDER: All right. Yes. I am a sucker for a good reunion. I mean as much as I bitch about it I actually sort of can watch that story line a fair few times before I get tired of it. It’s nice how reciprocal it is with Charming and Snow. 

THEAMH: Yes, that IS nice. Can I just ask though...why do all the men look the same?

ISTRIA: They don’t all look the same. There are two kinds. The blonde kind is a prince and the dark-haired kind is a dark user’s familiar.

PLAIDDER: Yes, I will say they made the Maerin figure a lot more interesting on OUAT. I actually kind of like both of them, which is strange, because I fucking HATE Maerin.

LYTHRIL: So do I.

PLAIDDER: Yes. Well, Lythril, since you’re here--

LYTHRIL: The reason you can...attach yourself...to Graham and Hook is that their dark users haven’t properly broken them. The bond is in the playful stage, where both partners are capable of enjoying each other. 

PLAIDDER: And...did you and Maerin have...a playful stage?

LYTHRIL: Of course.

PLAIDDER: I’m really glad I didn’t have to write that.

LYTHRIL: It was brief.

PLAIDDER: Well, as long as you’re here...I mean what’s it like for you watching Regina? 

THEAMH: Are you sure these people haven’t been reading your--

PLAIDDER: Yes, I’m sure. I’m very sure. Look, I saw Snow White just like everyone else and the evil Queen freaked me out just like everyone else and Lythril does kind of have the evil Queen’s vibe and that’s the transmission pattern. The film Snow White is the common source. WOF and OUAT aren’t borrowing from each other. I never watched the show while I was writing WOF, and I am 100% certain that nobody on the WOF distribution list ended up writing for a nighttime drama on ABC.

AINE: How can you be sure?

PLAIDDER: Look, I asked Lythril a question--

LYTHRIL: And because it will amuse me, I’m going to answer it: I find watching Regina EXTREMELY frustrating. 

PLAIDDER: Why?

LYTHRIL: It’s a very long list. 

PLAIDDER: Could we have the condensed version?

LYTHRIL: She doesn’t have the commitment. She doesn’t love the work. She doesn’t LIKE being evil.  

PLAIDDER: Oh, I think she does like it.

LYTHRIL: No. It looks that way at first, but then they give her this...

PLAIDDER: Backstory.

LYTHRIL: That simpering little girl with her stableboy lover--that was PAINFUL. There is NO way that girl grows up to be the most powerful dark user in the kingdom. 

TARIC: If I could--

PLAIDDER: Yes, of course, Taric.

TARIC: I don’t think I realized before that I was a...trope?

PLAIDDER: Yes, I did try to keep that from you. I’m sorry--

TARIC: Is that why I’m...you know...simple?

KEANRIH: Oh Taric. You’re not simple. You’re very complex. 

TARIC: No, I mean...not very smart, and not good with words, and generally...not really very interesting.

KEANRIH: Don’t SAY those things about yourself!

PLAIDDER: All right, look, there is this whole thing with girls and horses and even though I never had a horse I did sort of become fascinated with horses for a while and yes, you two were a trope, but so are Theamh and Istria. I mean there were people back in the day who categorized WOF as a Xena a/u. 

AINE: WHAT?!

THEAMH: Aine, just calm--

AINE: THERE IS NO SUBTEXT. THERE WAS NEVER ANY SUBTEXT. WE DISCUSSED THIS EXPLICITLY--

PLAIDDER: Aine, you cannot do anything about what people do with your story. You write, they read, what happens next is up to the gods. My point is: yes, Taric, you are a cheesy romance trope, I am very sorry, but I did do my best to give you the same kind of character depth that I gave everyone else, which is something that definitely DOES NOT happen with Daniel. So you are both the same trope but Daniel is a lot more...trope-y...than you are.

KEANRIH: Also I would never have turned you into a zombie.

TARIC: Thank you.

PLAIDDER: Look, speaking of zombies staggering around heartless, can we get back to Lythril’s take on--

LYTHRIL: Despite all the other fnaa you’ve pulled on me I feel almost moved to thank you for never giving me a backstory...if THIS is what it looks like.

PLAIDDER: Well...to some extent it inevitably does, because nobody’s just born evil. 

LYTHRIL: No, but not everyone has evil thrust upon them. Some of us chose it.

PLAIDDER: Well, Rumplestiltskin--

LYTHRIL: Do not SPEAK TO ME about that BLASPHEMY.

PLAIDDER: Well I don’t think they mean the same thing that you mean when they say “Dark One”--

AINE: Are you SURE they haven’t read your books?

PLAIDDER: YES I AM SURE!

LYTHRIL: She wants to be redeemed? She wants to be a better mother? WHY? Why does she want to be a mother at all? I didn’t want that for a steaming hot second.

PLAIDDER: Oh, you are obsessed with fertility. OBSESSED.

LYTHRIL: Dark magic and maternity are profoundly incompatible.

RENNA: My gleacha they are.

LYTHRIL: Your entire *existence* proves my point. Take Regina out of the Enchanted Forest and she turns into YOU. An idiot who would choose some child over magic and power. I hate Storybrooke Regina. Always weak, and incompetent, and--

RENNA: I was strong enough to kill YOU.

LYTHRIL: You had help.

PLAIDDER: I actually don’t hate Storybrooke Regina’s redemption arc. I mean I don’t know how it’s going to end, but--

ISTRIA: You call that a redemption arc?

PLAIDDER: Oh dear. 

ISTRIA: She doesn’t understand the FIRST DAMN THING about redemption. 

THEAMH: She yells at the screen a LOT when Regina’s on it.

ISTRIA: You’re all hurt when people don’t want to invite you to their parties. Of course they don’t! You ruined all of their lives! And except *sometimes* regarding Henry, you have done NOTHING to live it down!

THEAMH: Like that.

ISTRIA: Redemption is not about getting people to like you. It’s about taking responsibility for the harm you’ve done and trying to undo it. Whether people *like* you again is irrelevant. It’s not about you and what you want any more, that’s the point.

PLAIDDER: Listen, this cannot go on forever, and I don’t want to quit without talking about the hearts thing.

LYTHRIL: Yes. The hearts thing.

AINE: I just don’t see how you can be ABSOLUTELY CERTAIN that nobody who writes for that show has--

PLAIDDER: For the love of Pete, Aine, in the story of Snow White the evil Queen says she wants the huntsman to rip out Snow White’s heart and liver and bring them back to her and that is where ALL of these chest-punching heart-ripping evil women in black came from.

LYTHRIL: It’s HILARIOUS. Nobody needs THAT many hearts.

PLAIDDER: Well I think she uses these hearts for different purposes than--

LYTHRIL: Every time I watch her or Cora do that I have to pause it because I’m laughing so hard. Where’s the blood? Where are the screams? Where are the broken ribs and the--

THEAMH: Could you not--

LYTHRIL: And this glowing red Lucite thing that comes out--

ISTRIA: I know!

LYTHRIL: That’s not a heart. I don’t know what that is but it’s not...hearts are bloody, they’re warm, they pulse, they’re--

THEAMH: They’re messy. Really, really--

LYTHRIL: That’s the whole POINT of a heart, that’s why people miss them in the first place.  

THEAMH: Yeah, they’re like...that’s where the whole soul/body thing happens, at least if you’re heart seated, and it matters that it’s all squishy and misshapen and--

LYTHRIL: They’re flesh. Hearts are flesh. They’re meat. That’s the point of hearts.

THEAMH: ExACTly!

[high-five begins]

ISTRIA: HEY! Are you both INSANE?

[high-five aborted]

PLAIDDER: Can I at least get your thoughts on Regina’s fashion sense?

[Everybody laughs]

AINE: Who is MAKING all those gowns for her? Who is doing her hair? Where does she get the materials?

PLAIDDER: And why does she lead with her cleavage, even in battle?

LYTHRIL: Oh come on. I have seen your illustrations.

PLAIDDER: What? They’re nothing like--

LYTHRIL: Shriias, back me up here: does she or does she not have me doing everything tits out?

THEAMH: I do have to admit--

PLAIDDER: No! Your outfits are--

LYTHRIL: Very tight. 

PLAIDDER: Well sure but--

THEAMH: At least she’s never drawn you naked.

PLAIDDER: LOOK.

LYTHRIL: I don’t mind. Sincerely, I do not mind being the sexiest woman in this universe--

[confused and vehement shouts of protest from all assembled]

PLAIDDER: All right all RIGHT! There will be NO MORE discussion of costuming! Or hearts! Or competitive sexiness!

CHANDRA: Are we not even going to TALK about Mulan?

PLAIDDER: And another country is heard from.

CHANDRA: You know I heard there was going to be queer-baiting in this show and all through season one I was like, where is it? All the men seem very very straight to me.And then Mulan and Aurora show up and it’s like, oh, I see it now.

PLAIDDER: Yes. Well...

CHANDRA: “I promised Prince Phillip I would protect you and I will fight both of these other hot women to do it!”

PLAIDDER: All right, point--

CHANDRA: Mulan literally holds Aurora’s heart in her hands and actually PUTS IT BACK IN HER CHEST--

PLAIDDER: Sure--

CHANDRA: I mean even those two over there never got THAT close. And then the NEXT THURKING LINE: “Let’s go see if we can bring my useless dead boyfriend back to life!”

PLAIDDER: I did notice--

CHANDRA: You’ve got this intense, smoldering woman in armor staring at you with love beaming out of her eyes and--I mean if you’ve got Mulan, WHO NEEDS PHILIP?

PLAIDDER: You know, some women ARE straight, and--

CHANDRA: Everyone ELSE gets to bring their true love back with a kiss but Mulan and Aurora have to do it through open heart surgery?

PLAIDDER: OK, but the coding makes it more intense and more interesting. Admit it.

THEAMH: You didn’t code us.

KEANRIH: Or us.

PLAIDDER: Yeah, well your story was never published, was it?

AINE: You regret that?

PLAIDDER: No. I really don’t. I honestly don’t know what would have become of all of you if I’d had to really try to make you marketable.

CHANDRA: But that was the 1990s. This was freaking 2011.

PLAIDDER: All right, this has gone on long enough. Are we going to finish Season 2 or not?

LYTHRIL: I think your spawn has doomed us to it.

PLAIDDER: Well...are you enjoying any of this?

LYTHRIL: I enjoy imagining ways to kill Cora.

PLAIDDER: You know, Lythril, we never found out what your mother was like.

LYTHRIL: Thank the Dark One for that.

PLAIDDER: Or if you’d ever been in love, before...

LYTHRIL: Never.

PLAIDDER: You sure about that?

LYTHRIL: NEVER.

PLAIDDER: Because something did go on with you and Ulnach at scoil, and I go back and forth on what exactly it was, but I will tell you, sometimes in my mind it looks a lot like a Cinderella AU.

LYTHRIL: You’re not going to actually write that, are you?

PLAIDDER: Probably not. See, this is kind of interesting to me as an idea, but if I actually committed to it, I think I would--

LYTHRIL: Because that would be a GREAT way to lose a heart.

PLAIDDER: Well look. We complain, but we’re all having fun here, right? I mean you’re enjoying getting together and making fun of your...counterparts?

ISTRIA: I will admit, it is sort of fun.

THEAMH: It’s better than talking about American politics.

PLAIDDER: All right, let’s wrap this up before Conn shows up. Thanks everyone; I’ll see you at the end of season 2, maybe.

[charmingturkeysandwich]

I Could Use a Love Song - Ch 1: givin’ up on love, hey love’s given up on me

Summary: Emma Swan, small town orphan and up-and-coming country singer, is known for her voice, her penchant for leather, and her overall (earned) anger toward the world. She’s had a rough go of it – rough enough that every single song of hers is angry or sad – but on the road something (or someone) happens that might change her tune.

(Spoiler Alert: it’s Killian. Cue the gasps of shock.)

Also on AO3.

---

The upside to a truly shitty adolescence? Lyrical inspiration.

Emma Swan grew up a little bit all over the place, but primarily in a small town that was most definitely above the Mason-Dixon line and yet half its population spoke with some kind of southern-esque drawl. Confederate flags were common on Chevy trucks. Friday nights in the Fall were dedicated to high school football and absolutely nothing else. Their town’s only radio station was country, though it played seven different church services on Sunday mornings. To say that the whole town’s dynamic read like a cliché country song… it was more obvious than Emma’s bright red leather jacket in a crowd of cotton camo.

So no one was particularly surprised when the beautiful, damaged orphan with the voice of a (really pissed off) angel hit the road with a country band.

They might not have been surprised, but oh did they talk. After her falling out with the pastor’s son and her quick escape to Pittsburgh, she was every negative stereotype of famous in a small town you could conjure. Lily, the closest thing she’d had to a friend outside of Neal, son of Pastor Gold, would keep her updated on the rumors and the hearsay. Not that she wanted to know, necessarily. She’d rather imagine that her name had simply fallen out of the collective memory of that god forsaken town. But it hadn’t. Her story was on the tongues of every bar patron, Baptist, and boy scout leader north of I-80.

It wasn’t her story, though. Not really. The tales they told of Emma Swan always somehow ended up with her as the villain and not the fairy tale princess, the lost girl with no choice but to suffer at the hands of assholes.

Her parents had been shit. Drug addicts, apparently, and she’d been taken from them. She’d been passed through the foster system from ages 3-12, the best foster parents mostly ignoring her and the worst… well, she couldn’t afford the therapy to even attempt to go there.

She’d wound up with an OK but definitely half-crazy woman by the name of Sarah just before she turned 13 and that’s where she’d stayed, that hick town that just couldn’t get enough of her little sob story. That’s where she’d met Neal, the charismatic son of one of the town’s pastors. His dad had seemed nice enough, did a lot of community work and even owned several businesses, boasting of his commitment to boosting the local economy. For once she’d thought she’d found some people who didn’t suck who might make her life at least somewhat normal.

She, as usual, was wrong. Pastor Gold was… well, off. Way too angry for a dude preaching the New Testament each week. But at least he’d never hurt her. No, that privilege was reserved for Neal, who would beat her to a bloody pulp and then tell his daddy’s flock all about saving his sweet girl from a drug deal gone wrong (poor thing ended up like her parents despite the best efforts of the system, you see).

It was pathetic. And after she went to jail for having the gall to defend her own life from that sociopath, well, that was it. She dropped out of high school during the homecoming pep rally and hopped a bus to the city.

That had been years ago now, of course, but it was her origin story, as they say, and something very important to her on-stage personality. And her internal struggle.

Life had fucked her over and she was pissed. And so for five years after leaving that sleepy, secret-filled little town, all she ever really focused on was her anger. She’d write lyrics on truck stop napkins and sit in a half-stranger’s basement strumming chords on the guitar she’d stolen from the church rectory (she wasn’t sorry). She started out performing at open mic nights and then somehow found some of Her People, those who loved country music but maybe hadn’t grown up in a Dixie Chicks song (if only she could have Goodbye Earl’ed that son of a bitch high school boyfriend of hers before he ever laid a hand on someone new…).

(At least he ended up in prison. You know, eventually.)

(And, hey, her rage got her out there and selling records. But that was on her, not him. Nobody saves me but me, she always said. And she wasn’t about to thank a monster just because she survived slaying it.)

Tonight’s show was in a dive bar in upstate New York and Emma was so damn ready for it. She and Ruby had done a few shots of tequila before slipping on their tight jeans and leather jackets, and David had just finished setting up their brand new sound system that made them sound like they could actually be on CMT and not just playing from someone’s garage. David and Mary Margaret, they were like Johnny and June with their sweetness and Emma could hardly stomach it. But they were her friends, her actual honest-to-god, wouldn’t-rat-her-out-to-the-forest-service-for-underage-drinking friends and she loved them. She loved them and Ruby and even Graham in the only way she knew how: teasing insults, cases of beer, and not running away in the middle of the night even when she was feeling like her whole world could crash town with one wrong word from herself or anyone else.

(She really did need therapy beyond the catharsis of angry singing to half-drunk strangers. Someday, maybe.)

Friend love was a strange, but manageable thing. Well, mostly. But romantic love? Absolutely fucking not. After she left Neal and that town, after she drank away the pain and the frustration, well she thought maybe she’d give romance another try. Turned out the next guy was even worse, somehow, leaving her bruised and bloody when she turned down his marriage proposal at a fancy restaurant in Cleveland (yeah, those exist). The physical pain she had been used to, but the emotional… he called her every name she didn’t deserve and a few that she probably did, and when he finished her off with a few choice comments about the baby she’d lost after Neal threw her out a moving car, well she was done. For good. Never ever would she trust a man again. Preacher’s son or furniture salesman – they were all just… evil. She couldn’t ever again take that chance.

But tonight – tonight she wasn’t thinking about romance or even the past, not beyond the bits and pieces that had made their way into her songs. She was happy, buzzed, excited. Their little tour bus (well, van) family was rising in the ranks and soon she could move far away and get her own apartment overlooking the thriving streets of Nashville. Soon she would be so busy with interviews and music video shoots that she wouldn’t have a single second to spare a thought to those who had hurt her. Soon she would be so rich she wouldn’t ever feel lonely because she’d always have male company in the form of all her Benjamins she’d backstroke through like Scrooge McDuck.

The previous night Mary Margaret had tried to set Emma up with the singer of their opening act, a guy they called August who carried a typewriter instead of a guitar (who she’d definitely seen leaving with a drunk after she’d turned him down, by the way), so Emma had already had her monthly I Don’t Want Love chat with her hopeless romantic friend. Meaning today she was free and clear to just… enjoy this new life she’d spent years building on the bones of all the good girls she could have been.

She high-fived Ruby and David kissed her on the cheek as they took the stage, starting the guitar riff as Emma sauntered out to the opening words of the song. This was one of her crowd favorites, a good one to set the tone for what kind of show to expect, and she was melting into her confident, badass, devil-may-care persona easily by the time they hit the first chorus.

I’m goin’ home, gonna load my shotgun

Wait by the door and light a cigarette

He wants a fight, well now he’s got one

And he ain’t seen me crazy yet

A few people in the front row were singing along and her heart was bursting with pride that she was on this road, that she’d turned such a goddamn nightmare of a life into something positive and productive and while overall it still wasn’t healthy… she damn well was on the road to actually being someone. To finally shutting up the idiots back in Pennsyltucky who were convinced she wasn’t going to amount to anything but a statistic just like her parents (despite having never even tried any drug beyond alcohol and nicotine, the judgmental fucks).

One thing that entertained her beyond reason was listening to Mary Margaret sing backup vocals on the songs Emma wrote. Emma liked to call Mary’s on-stage persona Snow White Trash and Ruby insisted that be the name of the band’s first mainstream album when their big break finally came and Emma actually fucking laughed in the middle of performing her angry song that night because she couldn’t stop thinking about the mismatch.

So when the song was over she apologized to the crowd, told them how much she loved her band and her friends, even the hilariously innocent of them, and asked someone to pass her a beer so she could stop the chuckles from trickling out during the next song.

Next on their set list was one that had been co-written by Emma and Ruby, two girls from two very different small towns, who still had so much shared experience. It used to hurt her to sing it, the depressing nature of where she came from threatening to swallow her whole, until Graham came to her one night after the show, quieted her tearful sobs with a kiss and told her to just pretend it was a movie. She was just telling a story. It wasn’t her town or Ruby’s… it was nothing but fiction.

And that’s how she belted it all out totally devoid of those pesky feelings that made her wish she could just crawl under a rock rather than relive her trauma for the seventy third time this fucking year.

If you ain’t got two kids by 21, you’re probably gonna die alone

At least that’s what tradition told you

This song was a lesser known of theirs so they don’t have as many mouthing the words back, but the energy in the crowd is still so high, despite this song being a little more bummer than banger. So she scans the crowd, watches the faces of the drunk, the joyful, the brooding, and best of all, those who understand.

Off to the left, just at the edge of the stage, she saw probably the hottest man she’d ever seen in real life. Black leather jacket, artfully mussed hair, a smirk that could charm her pants right off if she let him.

It’s not that hot guys didn’t come to their shows. They definitely did. But they were usually more the Jake Owen or Luke Bryan type, the ones that look like they were ready to meet your mama by the third date. This guy, he didn’t seem the take-home-to-parents type (just the kind for her, having no parents and all).

But there was something else different about him. Standing just off stage, standing alone, glancing toward David every so often. He looked a bit too confident, comfortable, like he already had some kind of connection to her makeshift little family, and that set up some red flags.

She was not accepting applications for any new friends at the moment. Or maybe ever.

She’d been staring just a little and people tended to notice stuff like that so of course he eventually locked eyes with her, for just a fleeting moment, and there was something in that one glance that told her he knew what she was singing, how she felt, on a level that most others just… didn’t.

So naturally she broke the gaze and didn’t look back.

Jack and Jill went up the hill.

Jack burned out on booze and pills.

Mary had a little lamb.

Mary just don’t give a damn no more.

From there, Mary Margaret had taken over lead vocals, her cover of Strawberry Wine a nice balm to the mood-dampener that Merry-Go-Round always was. And every show without fail, she always took that transition to gloat about how she’s most definitely not the Mary from that song because she has David and loves him so much and Emma almost always makes the universal gesture for “gag me” to the crowd eliciting laughter and a few errant woo’s.

She didn’t tonight.

First taste of love, oh

Bittersweet

And green on the vine

Like strawberry wine

(sorry Deana Carter, but there wasn’t always some sweet.)

They closed the show with Kerosene, like they always did: high-energy, twangy, and true-to-form for their actual fans. The whole bar was on their feet, jumping and swaying and shouting and spilling their $4 beers on the guy beside them but no one really cared because they were sharing a moment, Emma and each of them, singing out their anger and sadness and ten years of life’s-not-fair.

Crazy how a three minute song could effectively patch the wounds of a whole life.

And, yeah, maybe it wasn’t really patching anything. Maybe it was just distraction. Maybe she was just as much a drug addict as her parents, but her drug was the stage and the music and the connection she shared with every other person in each and every bar who didn’t get the benefit of a first love like any kind of wine.

She sang her song from the diaphragm – broadway voice – but it was like it came all the way from her toes. It was always her anger that defined her, drove her, made her feel alive.

Why not lean into it?

I gave it everything I had

And everything I got was bad

Life ain’t hard but it’s too long

To live it like some country song

Trade the truth in for a lie

Cheating really ain’t a crime

I’m giving up on love, cause love’s given up on me

Songs sung, merch sold, and bar tab closed, Emma headed toward the crew’s van, ready to sleep off the liquor in the third row seats while the lovebirds took the hotel room above the bar and Ruby and Graham found someone’s bed to put their boots under for the night.

It was odd, feeling like the fifth wheel when truly there was only one couple in the band. But Ruby and Graham, they were so in sync with where they were in their life – jand it was just not what Emma was looking for – that she still ended up left out.

Which was fine. Everything was just fine.

Until her path to the van was obstructed by the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen in her life, the smoldering-eyed, confident guy who’d nearly made her forget her own lyrics before she’d promptly remembered to forget him and any other person who might possibly hold the potential to make her heart skip.

(Hearts aren’t meant to skip. That’s not love; it’s a trip to the cardiologist.)

He was definitely about to annoy her, so shouldn’t he look properly… annoying? Not like a goddamn model. That was distracting her from her annoyance and inevitable hate. Because a girl like her? Every song lyric and leather jacket was a clear message: leave me the fuck alone.

He clearly wasn’t receiving the signal.

“Swan, I presume?” he finally spoke, her eyes certainly glaring daggers at him despite her tiredness and BAC.

“Uh, obviously? What do you want.” (It wasn’t a question.)

“To introduce myself, of course! Killian Jones, at your service.”

She stopped a few feet from him, one hand on her hip and the other reaching for the cigarettes in the back pocket of her jeans.

“I’m not interested in any services beyond handing me a lighter. Can you manage that one?”

He smirked at her and reached into his jacket, the click of the zippo lighter in his hand echoing off the brick alley the van was parked in. With a quick flick of his thumb there was a flame and he offered it to her, his eyes burning with something other than the reflection of the fire.

“Ah, yes, that’s something even a one-handed bloke like me can manage.” He clicked the lighter closed and deposited it back in his jacket, only to reveal his left arm – ending at the wrist – from where it had been tucked behind him.

Emma deflated a little, some compassion left inside her despite the unwanted nature of his approaching her. “OK, Captain Hook, what exactly do you want from me?”

(She had compassion, but also very little candor. For the record.)

“Ah, yes, I’ve never heard that one before,” he muttered, rolling his eyes and finally looking like he was receiving her please-go-away signals, but he still soldiered on. “I was meant to be here before the show started, but I had some trouble finding this hole-in-the-wall. I presume by your attitude that Dave didn’t warn you I was coming?”

“You presume correctly. Can you please get on with whatever garbage is happening here? I swear if they put you up to asking me out or something I’m going to kill them. Mary Margaret especially. Because we just talked about this and I know that it’s not your fault that they’re such meddlers but I swear I’m pretty much the same girl who sings on stage in real life and I absolutely want nothing to do with men. Or women, for that matter… I’m not a person who dates and if they thought..”

“Love, please stop. No, I’m not here to ask you out. Believe me, I know I’m not what you need. I mean, technically I am, but not in the romantic sense.”

He paused and waggled his eyebrows and Emma was too tired to roll her eyes so she just closed them, willing the moment to pass. “I’ve been hired to work for you. All of you. Roadie. Can’t play notes on a guitar anymore, but I can haul them in and out of these dumps you lot perform in.”

Ah. He was the guy David had suggested they hire but the group had then rejected the idea and apparently David decided to overrule them all because why would Prince Charming listen to a democratic band vote, anyway? (Ugh.)

“Can you maybe stop insulting the patrons that pay us since that same money is going to be what pays you?”

Drunk laugher and electronic music pulsed out of the back door of the bar they’d played in not long before. Almost closing time now. Emma needed to get out of the open before she had to break someone’s wrist for drunkenly groping her. Again.

“Ah, of course, love,” he replied, finally seeming to be at least somewhat chagrined. “Now if you could point me in the direction of our sleeping quarters, I’ll leave you to your business.”

“First of all, I am not your love. We’ve covered this already and I need you to keep up. Second, do you really think we make enough to have quarters? I’m not entirely sure how we’re going to both pay you and eat. So.”

“So, what exactly does that mean for you or I, Swan?” he emphasized her last name in an effort to prove he was capable of using titles other than ridiculous British terms of endearment.

“Well, Jones, that means that either you go shack up with David and the missus (10/10 would not recommend; Mary gets very horny while drunk and her voice carries), or you do like Graham or Ruby and find a local to make gross sex noises with. Or whatever they do. Don’t know, don’t ask, don’t care.”

“And you, princess?” His tone was a challenge. He wanted her to object to the sickly sweet nickname. And she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.

“I sleep in the van. And I do not cuddle.”

“Oh, it’s not cuddling I’m looking for,” he purred, waggling his stupid eyebrows again. (This time she did roll her eyes, annoyed enough to expend the limited energy she still possessed.)

“Then go find someone willing, buddy. Like I said.”

He shook his head and laughed, already turning back toward the van. “Damn. David said you were difficult, but I wasn’t expecting this. I’ll sleep wherever you don’t. Unless you snore?”

“No, I do not snore!”

“Great. Then we’ll get along just dandy.” He waited next to the van until Emma pulled out the fob to unlock it, sliding open the big door a second after the beep-beep to signal entry. “After you, not anyone’s love.”

“Thanks, Captain. I’ll be in the back. Touch me at your peril.”

They each crawled into the van and settled at opposite ends. Emma tossed Killian a blanket and Killian tossed Emma a pillow that had been lodged in the front seat and they both drifted off to the sounds of Garth Brooks on the Pandora radio Ruby had bought her to ward away the nightmares that inevitably accompanied the silence.

[eirian-houpe]

Disparate Pathways - Chapter 2

Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death

Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold

Characters: Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Belle (Once Upon a Time), Maurice | Moe French, Gaston (Once Upon a Time), Spinster(s) (Once Upon a Time: Think Lovely Thoughts), Mad Hatter | Jefferson, Blue Fairy | Mother Superior, Black Fairy (Once Upon a Time), Baelfire | Neal Cassidy, Emma Swan, Prince Charming | David Nolan, Colette (Once Upon a Time), Red Riding Hood | Ruby, Widow Lucas | Granny, Dove (Once Upon a Time), Captain Hook | Killian Jones, Wicked Witch of the West | Zelena

Additional Tags: Abusive Parents, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Violence, Gun Violence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Torture, Dubious Consent, Eventual Smut, UST, First Time, Drama & Romance, Kidnapping, Extortion

Summary: Gold has a past, a past that he has rejected, but it seems one that will not let him go.  Belle, daughter of Governor Maurice French has been kidnapped, along with her mother, and just as the authorities raid the organization that is holding her hostage, decides to make her own bid for freedom, unknowingly derailing an undercover sting, and Agent Milnor has not choice but to take her into 'protective custody,' but is he all that he seems?  As the threads of the story grow more tangled and the threat to Belle, and to Gold, her appointed protector, grow ever more real, a growing, mutual attraction makes everything far more desperate and far too personal for Gold to ignore what he knows to be the truth.

Read on AO3

[Chapter 1]

Chapter 2 - When Now Is the Wrong Time

Jefferson Milnor walked around six blocks out of his way, making turns at random, and heading into a late night drug store to buy himself a pack of gum and some tylenol, just to make sure he wasn’t being followed, before he headed to the seedier side of town, where ladies, and gents of the night propositioned him on street corners, and told him he didn’t really want to head into the gaudy strip joint he was headed for, and really wanted to go home with them instead.

He turned them all down, and silently paid his entry fee, passing beneath the neon, animated flashing lights that marked the building he sought, before slipping into the assigned booth.  He closed his eyes and rested his head back against the wall, totally ignoring the erotic dancer that could be seen through the gap in the grate that separated her from the clientele.

“The weather’s on the change, Ice clouds invading,” the voice from the next booth murmured softly, and Jefferson took a deep breath, counting to ten in his head before he even thought about answering. He hated this… the necessity for it, the cliche of it all that his handler insisted playing into.

“Pressure lines joint in faint discord and the stormwatch brews,” he answered, all the while thinking, Why ruin a great song by using it as a fucking code?

“Are you safe?” his handler asked.

“Until I came here,” Jefferson answered, ill tempered.  “What’s wrong with the fucking library every once in a while?  Or hell, take me to see a goddamn movie!”

“I see your language hasn’t gotten any better since you’ve been under.”

“You haven’t seen these people, Rab,” Jefferson said, “They’d make a saint swear.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Rab said. He paused then, waiting while there was a lull in the music as the dancers switched, and didn’t speak until the heavy beat started pounding through Jefferson’s body again.  “You’ve seen the girl? The mother?”

“Yeah,” Jefferson confirmed, “But… they’re keeping them under lock and key, especially the girl, and separate. I don’t know how the hell you think this is going to go down.”

“Well you better think of something fast,” Rab said quietly.  “It’s tomorrow.”

“ What !” Jefferson spat the single word as though it were the worst kind of curse word ever , following up with another string of expletives, before calming enough to say,“You can’t.  No, absolutely not.”

“Tomorrow, Jeff.” Rab repeated, “The Governor won’t wait any more, and who can blame him.  This is his wife and daughter we’re talking about.”

Jefferson shook his head even though he knew Rab couldn’t see him. “Force their hand like this and it’s gonna get ugly fast. You go back and tell the Governor that.”

“He won’t be swayed,” Rab said. “It’s going down tomorrow, Sunshine, and there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“The hell there isn’t,” Jefferson said, and started to get up.

“Don’t fuck this up, Agent.”

“Don’t agent me,” he snarled, and before Rab could do anything about it, and completely uncaring of the establishment’s policy of one patron per booth, he pushed in through the door of his handler’s booth, grabbed him by the lapels, and pinned him to the flimsy wall. “What the fuck is the point in me spending years UC with this band of fucking maniacs if no one is going to listen to my advice?”

“Take it easy, Jefferson,” Rab said, grasping his wrists and trying to push the taller, stronger man away. “I didn’t come here to get your advice. I came here as a courtesy to tell you that the takedown is happening tomorrow.”

“Take it easy?” Jefferson spat, and shifted his grasp on his handler to press and arm across his throat, making Rab’s scrabbling against his hold a little more frantic, more urgent. “Have you any idea the kind of crap I’ve been through! Years and years of it, and here we stand with the chance to take these motherfuckers down and  for good this time, and you tell me my go/no go role in all this has been not only undermined, but tossed out of the fucking window! Well fuck you.  Fuck you and the horse you rode in on.”

He let Rab go, and watched as his handler bent over, leaning his hands on his knees, and trying to catch his breath.

“I’m sorry, man,” Rab gasped, “truly.  I didn’t call this and I tried to give you time, honestly.”

Jefferson shook his head. “I don’t want to hear your excuses, Rab. I’ve busted my balls these last two weeks… took fucking risks to make sure to get everything in place, and keep the French women safe.  Well I’m telling you, not asking .  Wait.  Two more days, three at most.  If the cavalry comes in tomorrow we will lose our only chance of taking the head of this rancid pit of vipers.  She will go to ground and it might be another ten years before we catch the slightest hint of her again.”

He was pacing as he spoke, his thumb nail up against his teeth, the words tumbling around it, and his body hummed with pent up frustration.  He already knew Rab’s answer.

“We’ll take some of them in.  Someone will turn, make a deal for a reduced sentence, and we’ll use it to haul them all in, every single one of them, including Duneach.”

Jefferson just shook his head again, and closed his eyes with a sigh, finally ceasing his pacing, and just stood with his head down, breathing hard as he opened and closed his hands, like someone itching for a fight.

“I’ll send you a heads up at thirty minutes.” Rab said softly. “Just tell me you know how to get out and maintain the--”

“--integrity of my cover, yeah… thanks for nothing. I know the fucking drill.  I got out the last time you morons fucked it up, and no one on the inside the wiser.” Jefferson spat.

“You and I both know that’s not quite true.”

Jefferson looked up at Rab, meeting his eyes steadily, before he murmured a soft, “Good as.”

“You make me laugh, Milnor,” Rab said, “You really do.  You stand there for a good thirty minutes ranting at me about how it’s all going to go to crap, and at the last attempt at taking these guys out, you only went and read in perhaps the single most dangerous person you could possibly have revealed yourself to.”

“No,” Jefferson said flatly and with a certainty in his voice. “Not true. He’s out, and he won’t go back. He’s not a risk.”  Not like that, anyway.

“You don’t know that,” Rab said.

The red-head had long since fled, as Jefferson made his way down from his higher point as carefully and as swiftly as he could while making sure there were no more hostiles about.  The man writhed on the ground, conscious, surprisingly still trying to get legs beneath him, to walk on his ruined ankle.

Jefferson reached his side, kicking the man’s gun away, trying to put the man at ease, assure him that everything would be all right, but the man thought nothing of his own safety; his own comfort and health - only of the boy’s.

Jefferson sighed, pushing away the memory and the way his own emotions responded to it; knowing that the only way to have saved the man’s life was exactly as he did - to take him down him self with a non fatal shot.

“ Please...” the man whispered through the agony of the injury Jefferson had given him. “...help me save my son.”

“Yes,” he said softly.  “I do.”

[fluffy-marshmallow-heart]

Drake's Diary ch.19 - Finger Licking Good

Royal Romance canon from Drake's POV

Drake x MC (Emma)

Words: 2603

So believe it or not...this chapter is one diamond scene only. I know, I couldn't believe it myself when I wrote it, but it's true! It's the night of Madeleine's bachelorette party. Will Drake be able to spend any time with Emma?

It’s the night of Madeleine’s bachelorette party, and Drake is just sitting in his train car while Maxwell blabbers on and on about a dog Emma just adopted. Apparently, she named it Chance.

Of course, that’s something she would name a dog…and of course she would adopt a dog in the first place. I love dogs, though, and I’m definitely excited to meet it. She’s the best. I mean, dogs are the best.

 He was jarred from his thoughts by his phone ringing. Picking it up his heart skipped a beat seeing Emma’s name flash on the screen. He grinned “Hey, Rose. How’s the night?”

“Ugh, Drake, apparently Madeleine is allergic to chocolate, and Hana set up a chocolate fondue party for her. It’s so amazing and Madeleine threw a big fit and now Hana’s in tears. Are you and Maxwell up to anything? It would mean to much if we could still enjoy it, she worked so hard, and that stupid bitch…”

“Woah, woah, calm down. Of course, we’ll come!” Drake interrupted. She is absolutely adorable when she’s fired up…as long as it’s with someone else. When it’s with me it’s terrifying.

“You are the absolute best, Drake, I don’t know what I’d do without you!” Her voice now sounded flooded with relief, and Drake smiled knowing he caused it.

Not to mention she called me first and not Maxwell.

After she gave him the address, Drake tried his best to quell the excitement that brewing below his surface. He hadn’t expected to see Emma at all today, and now he was going to go eat delicious chocolate with her. He turned to Maxwell

“How do you feel about fondue?”

“As if that’s even a question! Where’s the party?” Maxwell jumped to his feet and Drake shook his head in amusement.

This kid is always ready to party.

The two men arrive at the chocolate shop. “Chocolate PAAAARTYYYYY!!! This might be my favorite kind of party.” Maxwell announced, throwing open the doors.

Drake rolled his eyes. “Every party is your favorite kind of party, Maxwell.”

Maxwell shrugged. “You’re not wrong.”

Hana gave them a small smile. “Thank you for coming, guys. I hope you weren’t already busy…”

“Nothing is more important to me than chocolate entering my bloodstream. Except maybe helping my friends.” Maxwell cut in.

“And you know Drake didn’t have anything better to do. What do you do all day when you’re not complaining about the nobility while benefitting from Liam’s hospitality?”

Drake frowned as he turned towards the redhead speaking. He definitely had not been expecting to see Olivia.  “Hey! I do…stuff. Why are you here anyway? Shouldn’t you be off licking Madeleine’s boot?”

“Hey…Can we try to keep it civil? For Hana’s sake.” Emma scolded them.

Drake glanced over at her and grimaced. “Fine.” Only because it’s you asking.

Olivia glared at Drake. “Whatever.”

“I think I’ll take you up on those corgi cuddles now, Emma.” Hana spoke in a small voice.

The dog is here?? While we’re eating…chocolate…?”

Emma smiled warmly. “I think Chance would be happy to oblige.” Chance wiggles his way into Hana’s arms and gives her face a few licks. She giggles.

“I think he likes you!” Emma laughed.

He is pretty damn cute. I can see why she got him. Just look at that adorable face. I want corgi cuddles.

Hana sighed. “I can’t believe I messed up so badly. I’m such a failure…”

“Hana, don’t beat yourself up.” Emma placed a hand on her arm.

“Yeah, everyone makes mistakes sometimes.” Maxwell added

“Have I ever told you about the time I dumped a plate of ribs on a customer’s lap?” Emma asked

“You did?” Hana gasped.

“Yep! A man at the next table had ordered our biggest, sauciest plate of ribs…the triple-baked honey BBQ Dino bone special.”

Drake was practically drooling over that. “Sounds like my kind of restaurant.”

Emma continued. “The plate was so massive that we usually had two people carry it out, but everyone else was busy. So, I hefted it onto my shoulder and started walking to the table…Which is about when I realized that my shoe had come untied. It was too late to fix it, so I kept walking and prayed that I would make it. I was almost there…five feet away…When I tripped. Face-planted into the carpet and sent the platter lying…right into another customer’s lap, ruining his suit.”

Maxwell burst out laughing. “No way!”

“True story! Suffice to say, I did not get tips from either table that night.”

Drake watched the way her eyes lit up while telling the story. I wonder if she misses New York. It’s hard to believe she was waiting tables when we met. And now she’s here among Cordonian royalty, but still with the same no-bullshit attitude.

“Hey, wasn’t I promised fondue? Where’s the fondue?” Maxwell started looking around the store.

A sly smirk crossed Emma’s face. “Maxwell, don’t you know impatience is a major fon-don’t?”

Drake groaned at the ridiculous pun. This Justin guy was wearing off on her. Her new press secretary’s most famous line is “I’m Just-in-time!” Drake wanted to punch him the first time he heard it. Actually, I still wouldn’t mind punching him in the face.

“It’s over here.” Hana leads everyone to a table with a tower of melted chocolate in the center of the shop. “I’ll go get the dipping options. Just a second...” She disappears behind the counter for a moment, then pops up with a plate of decadent desserts, which she offers the group. Grapes, strawberries, pineapple, pretzels, and pound cake were arranged on the platter.

Emma gasped. “Hana, this looks amazing!”

“Take one!” She said excitedly.

Emma plucks a strawberry off the tray and plunges it into the chocolate, covering it with an even layer before taking a bite.

“Mmmmmm”

Oh dear god…those sweet, plump lips, wrapped around a juicy red strawberry, dripping with chocolate… Drake was scraping his teeth against his bottom lip, full of desire for her. I could streak some chocolate over me and she could lick that and….

“My turn!” Maxwell leapt up.

Snapped out of his fantasy, Drake was painfully aware that he was becoming hard. He cleared his throat. Gotta talk about something else, now.  “Well, if you think Emma’s story is bad, wait until you hear my greatest mistake.”

Maxwell rubbed his hands together. “This is gonna be good!”

It sure is.  “When were kids, Liam and I would play hide-and-seek in the palace. One time, I was hiding and Liam was seeking, and I had the best hiding spot ever. It was the bottom of an old laundry chute that must have been forgotten about for decades. So, I waited…and I waited…and I kept waiting. For hours.”

Emma chuckled. “You would be competitive at hide-and-seek.”

Drake winked. “I ended up falling asleep in the laundry chute, and I only woke up when the Palace Guard found me the next day.”

“No!” Hana cried

“Yep. Turns out, when Liam couldn’t find me, he thought something terrible might have happened. The Guard turned the palace upside-down trying to find me and kept anyone from coming or going.”

Maxwell’s jaw was practically on the floor. “You caused the Great Lockdown? Legendary!”

Drake laughed at the memory. “We got in so much trouble, they made hide and seek forbidden anywhere on palace grounds.”

“All those poor children who will never get to play because of you…” Hana said, smiling

Oh my god, she does have a sense of humor.

“What about you, Maxwell? What’s your big mistake story?” Emma asked.

Maxwell shrugged. “You know me. My life is a series of mistakes, really.”

“What about all those dance-offs you’ve won?” Hana asked curiously.

“Ask Bertrand whether those were successes or mistakes!”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Come on, Maxwell. I bet you have a particularly embarrassing moment you could share.”

“Alright, alright. Let me think. Ooh! I’ve got one! I used to have a crush on a noble girl, who shall remain nameless for her own good. I didn’t know how to tell her, but I just had to express all the emotions bubbling up inside me. So, I wrote the most heartfelt and romantic note my 12 year old self could muster…”

“Oh, no…”

“You know, about her songbird voice and effulgent smile.”

“Effulgent?” Hana rose an eyebrow

Maxwell narrowed his eyes. “No one understand my poetic heart…Anyway, I gave her the note on Valentine’s Day, and she read it to everyone. I was mortified.”

Olivia was looking around the group in amusement. “Is this what you do? Just sit around telling each other how pathetic you are?”

“We’re cheering each other up. It’s called having friends…You should try it.” Emma snapped.

“You don’t have friends at court, you have allies.” Olivia retorted.

“You don’t seem to have too many of those, either.”  Drake countered.

“Hey, maybe let’s all have some more fondue and not fight?” Maxwell was watching them, and seeing Hana frowning again.

“Yes, let’s.” Emma said sharply, shooting Olivia a Look.

“Thanks, you guys. I do feel a bit better now.” Hana told them.

“See? There’s nothing some sweet treats with your friends can’t fix.” Emma grinned.

“Are you sure about that?” Maxwell asked.

Drake looked at him suspiciously. “What?”

“What about a FOOOONDUE FIIIIGHT!!” Maxwell grabs a handful of chocolate-covered pound cake and lobs it right at Drake!

“Hey!!” Drake yelled, attempting to get out of the way. He wasn’t fast enough though, and he was hit square in the chest.

“Maxwell…I’m going to get you next!” Emma exclaimed.  She reaches for the plate of treats, grasping for a sugary weapon to wield against Maxwell. Her fingers wrap around a plump strawberry, which she launches through the air at Maxwell. It hits his shoulder with a splat.

Oh no. Not the strawberry. And I am actually covered in chocolate now…

“Ow! Like a tasty little choco-grenade…”

Hana grimaced. “Maybe not the strawberries.”

“Yes, definitely not.” Drake agreed, not liking…except really liking…the direction his thoughts were  turning again

“Take that!” Emma threw some pound cake at Maxwell.

“So, you’re on his side? I see how it is.”

Emma scoffed. “I’m on my own side!” She lobs the next fondue at Drake, who dodges her attack only to be hit by Olivia.

“Really?” He glared

Olivia smirked. “What? I’ve studied the Art of War. I never turn down an opportunity to practice my craft.”

Maxwell slowly turned to Drake. “Drake, does that mean…?”

“Team-up!” Drake called

“Battle of the sexes?” Hana asked excitedly

“Let’s do it!” Emma returned

“If you insist.” Olivia agreed, with a glint in her eye.

Just then Maxwell volleys a ball of gooey cake at Emma. She successfully leaps out of the way of the incoming projectile and lobs a rebuttal back at Maxwell.

Maxwell slaps a hand over his heart. “Direct hit! I’m not sure I’m gonna make it.”

God he is so dramatic.

Hana grins, “I think we’re winning! This is our chance! Hit them with everything we’ve got!” Hana, Olivia, and Emma grab at what remains of the platter as Drake and Maxwell dive behind a counter for cover.

“They’ve got us on the defensive!” Maxwell whispered loudly

Drake nodded. “We have to strike now!” Drake and Maxwell emerge, fists full of fondue-flavored fury. The girls pelt them, forcing them back into cover.

Maxwell moaned. “Alas, we failed…”

“Wooo! We did it!” Hana yelled

“Go team!” Emma shouted.

“Yes. Beating Drake and Maxwell was just such a challenge.” Olivia quipped.

Hana looked at each of them gratefully. “Hey, thank you all for coming tonight. I…really appreciate it.”

Maxwell laughed. “It was a really hard sell. Free chocolate with your friends? Sounds awful.”

“Still. It means a lot to me to know that I can count on you.”

Emma slung her arm around her friend.  “Of course, you can count on us.”

“Anytime.” Drake said softly, looking at a chocolate covered Emma, and catching her eye.

“It is getting late, though. We should probably head back to the train.” Hana told them.

Emma nodded, still looking at Drake. “Yeah, I’m getting tired.”

Maybe…maybe she’s thinking the same thing I am. Her, me, alone, covered in sugary sweetness…

“Everyone on the trainy train…next stop? The train!” Maxwell exclaimed.

Drake shook his head and broke eye contact to face Maxwell. “Please never be a conductor.”

After a long walk back, they’re a few blocks away from the train when a taxi stops just ahead. A familiar voice rings out, and Olivia squints to get a better look.

“Is that…”

“Choo chooooooo! Party train!” Madeleine is hanging out of a car, waving at them excitedly

“Madeleine, be quiet! Do you want someone to see you like this?” Kiara scolded. Pulling to a stop, Madeleine, Kiara, and Penelope tumble out of the taxi. Madeleines shoes are missing.

“Too late!” Olivia grinned and snapped a picture with her phone.

“Oh, no…” Penelope said sadly as the camera flashed.

“I’d…better go. Before Madeleine sees me.” Hana cast her eyes downward and started walking away.

Drake took one last look at Emma and said farewell to his fantasy of licking chocolate off each other. He sighed, then started after Hana. “I’ll walk you back.” They continued toward the train, while Emma and Olivia approach the drunken remains of the bachelorette party.

Hana barely spoke two words to him the entire way back, and before they parted ways, Drake just had to say something

“Hana, the fondue party truly was brilliant. Madeleine just…hates everything, and she only hates you because you’re nice. Don’t let it get to you.”

“That’s sweet, Drake, and I know you’re right. I just wish this whole thing were easier. I only came back for Emma. If she wasn’t here I never would have returned after the Coronation.”

Drake nodded in understanding. “Yeah, I get that.”

Hana started to leave but paused and turned back to him. “If Emma wasn’t here…would you be on this engagement tour?”

Drake stared at her in surprise. “Wh-what?”

“I’m only asking because it seems like you spend more time with us than you do Liam. Everyone thinks you’re here to support him, but that’s not the real reason, is it? You’re only here to support her. Just like I am.”

“I uh…erm…well…” But as Drake looked at the expression on Hana’s face, he realized that he didn’t need to pretend with her. She already knew how he felt, and he could tell just by the way she was looking at him now.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “If Rose weren’t here…no, there would be no need for me to be on this train. I love Liam like a brother, but I hate all these events. These big displays of nobility, the sucking up to rich assholes who don’t give a damn about anyone or anything other than their bank account. And that’s basically what this entire tour is. Hell, it’s what the entire social season is for.”

“You’d be good for her Drake.” Hana said softly. “She does well no matter what situation she’s thrown in, but…I’ve noticed she’s only completely herself when she’s with you.” She gave him a small smile and continued on to her car, leaving Drake speechless behind her.

I guess this is getting difficult to hide. I wish I could say I’d be more careful. But that would be a lie even to myself. I hadn’t thought twice about joining this tour. But damn it, she’s right. I wouldn’t be here if Rose wasn’t.

    @blackwidow2721 @sleepwalkingelite @flowerpowell @annekebbphotography @carabeth @gardeningourmet @eileendannie @dancetothestoriesinyoursoul @alesana45 @thequeenofcronuts @agent-bossypants @zigortega4life

 @hrhdes @drakewalkerisreal @akrenich @feartheendlesssummer @moonlightgem7 @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction​

@notoriouscs

[searchingwardrobes]

Natural Opposite 8/16

* Before writing this fic, I did some -not a ton, but some - research on Dancing With the Stars. Every source I looked at said that the pro dancers on the show are forbidden in their contracts from getting romantically involved with their partners. That's why relationships are only ever "rumored" until after the season is over. While many hook ups have happened - even marriages - nothing is ever official while filming is happening. That doesn't stop the hosts from asking questions, of course, but the dancers and celebs are usually coy about it. Until this season!!! I don't know how many of you watch DWTS, but Alexis Ren told her partner Alan that she was developing feelings for him - on camera. The following week, Alan told her he had feelings for her to, and kissed her! On camera! Believe me, this has NEVER happened before! Derek Hough even got in trouble ages ago when compromising paparazzi pictures came out of him and his partner. I based my fic on what I knew of the show in the past as a fan and through my research. So thanks a lot DWTS for making me seem like I don't know what I'm talking about!

* Once again, many thanks to my artist @optomisticgirl. There isn't chapter art this week, but some AMAZING stuff is coming that I can't wait for ya'll to see!

* And my beta, @distant-rose, was incredible. Her insights on Henry's character especially influenced this chapter. So thanks, Ro!

Also on Ao3

Tagging @bethacaciakay @teamhook @kmomof4 @snowbellewells @whimsicallyenchantedrose @kday426 @snidgetsafan @delirious-latenight-laughs @jennjenn615 @followbatb @onceuponaprincessworld @hollyethecurious @ohmakemeahercules

Chapter Eight: See the Light

Emma snuggled into the corner of the couch with a mug of hot chocolate in her hands. A box of pizza lay open on the coffee table. She honestly couldn’t believe she agreed to this. The rules on how much time partners on the show could spend together was hazy. Romantic relationships were expressly forbidden in everyone’s contracts. However, there were no strict guidelines to prevent them. And honestly, since rumors of romance helped ratings, the producers typically looked the other way.

So the fact that Killian Jones was currently sitting on her living room floor playing video games with her son wasn’t a shock because of contractual agreements. No, it was a shock because Emma Swan didn’t do things like this. She didn’t invite men over to hang out and eat pizza with her and Henry. She enjoyed hanging out with her fellow pros on set, but that was as deep as things ever went. One night stands were also common in Emma’s social life, but she had strict rules for those. It was never anyone she knew (even a first name was more than she needed or asked for), and she never brought them home. Most of her one night stands happened on tour while Henry was spending the summer with Ingrid; a way to release pent up frustrations with her social life.

Killian groaned as he dropped the video game controller in his lap, and Henry fist pumped in victory.

“Hey,” Killian protested, gesturing at the screen, “in my defense, it’s been awhile since I played one of these. They’ve gotten way more complicated. Am I right, Swan?”

Emma shrugged when he turned to her for back up. “I don’t know, or maybe you’ve never had game.”

“Oooh, good one mom!” Henry laughed.

“Ouch,” Killian said, pretending to grimace with genuine hurt, “how quickly my partner turns on me!”

“That’s because I’m her kid, right Mom?” Henry replied with a grin.

Emma smiled back. “True. And because you’re my kid, I also have to tell you it’s bedtime.”

“Aw, Mom!” Henry groaned. “I thought we were gonna watch some Star Wars.”

Killian slapped his hand on Henry’s shoulder. “Maybe next time, lad.”

His words caused Emma’s throat to constrict, and she felt a sudden, familiar urge to flee. Killian had talked her into doing this because he said they had to celebrate their great scores. She never expected him to bond with Henry or expect a “next time.”

Henry, however, had no such qualms. “Sweet,” he said, giving Killian a fist pump. Then he brushed a kiss to Emma’s cheek and whispered in her ear, “Thank you, Mom! The kids at school are gonna die!”

Once Henry’s door shut behind him, a slight awkwardness descended on the room. Killian glanced her way, ducking his head when she turned her gaze intently into her mug of cocoa. She took a sip as he grabbed some of the pizza boxes and took them to the fridge.

“I wonder why Elsa’s not home yet,” she muttered. The words fell flat. Why should he care where her roommate was?

“You want these boxes taking up your fridge, or should I get some aluminum foil or something?” Killian asked, pausing in front of the open refrigerator.

Emma waved her hand. “Oh, just shove the boxes in. Henry will scarf the rest down in no time.”

Killian nodded and did as she asked. Then he shuffled awkwardly in the middle of her kitchen. “He’s a good kid, Henry.”

Emma smiled wistfully. “The best.”

Killian eyed her a bit warily as he came closer and eased down next to her on the couch. He was treating her as if she were a skittish animal who might bite him. She rolled her eyes. This was ridiculous! They were in each other’s personal space constantly rehearsing and dancing. Why was it awkward now? Emma shifted away from the corner of the couch and offered Killian half her blanket. He shook his head that he was fine, but the gesture had its intended effect. He relaxed and settled back against the couch, flinging his arm across the back of it, his hand resting just behind her shoulder.

“Can I ask you a question?” he asked.

Emma hesitated, biting her lip.

“I think I’ve earned it, don’t you?” he asked her softly.

She set her mug down on the coffee table. “I thought my life was an open book. With everything reality TV has dug up.”

Killian nodded. “Aye, but you managed to keep some things private.”

Emma held her breath, clutching the blanket in her fists. Henry’s dad. That was the only thing he could be referring to.

“Why is your name Swan and David’s isn’t?”

Emma let out a long, relieved breath. If Killian picked up on her emotional reaction, he didn’t let on. “That’s simple, really. He’s an optimist. I’m not.”

Killian tilted his head. “Meaning?”

“He still clings to the hope that our parents had a good reason for doing what they did. I just can’t. Who leaves their babies on the side of the highway? We could have been killed!” Emma toyed with a frayed edge of the blanket. “Our names were stitched into our baby blankets. We both still have them, actually. David thinks it’s a sign,that they loved us.” Emma shrugged.

Killian nodded thoughtfully. “Has he tried to find them? I mean, I’m guessing it’s possible if you know their last name was Nolan.”

“Yeah,” Emma answered as she picked up her mug again, “social workers found records at a local hospital of twins named David and Emma Nolan being born a week before we were found. To a Ruth and Robert Nolan. But they must have changed their names or something, because after that, they completely fell off the grid.”

“So they don’t want to be found.”

“Exactly.” Emma agreed, sitting up and clutching her mug tighter. “I’ve tried to tell him a million times to drop it, but . . . every once and awhile, he starts digging again. Ingrid’s the one who loved us and accepted us. She’s the one who gave us a home.”

Emma stared off in the distance, thinking back to the dance class she and David took at the Boy’s and Girl’s club. They were eleven years old and in a group home. Ingrid volunteered her time teaching the dance lessons. Emma always loved how patient she was, so calm. Her gentle smile when she told Emma that she had raw talent was like someone offering a cup of water in a desert.

“I hated how people judged Ingrid,” Emma said aloud. “They tried to make it seem like she only cared about grooming David and I for stardom. Elsa too. But it wasn’t like that. She wasn’t some crazy stage mom. We all just love to dance.”

“What about your other sister, Anna?”

Emma chuckled. “I’m surprised you even know about her.” Emma cut her eyes to look at Killian. “Did you cyber stalk me?”

He shrugged and gave her that disarming smile of his. “I had to learn a little bit about my partner. And actually, I have a confession.” He took a deep breath, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “I was a fan. When you were on So You Think You Can Dance. When I said I was hoping it would be you, I meant it.”

Emma blinked, her throat suddenly going dry. “You . . . were a fan?” she finally squeaked.

Killian raised his hands quickly. “I’m not saying I had some celebrity crush.”

Emma exhaled loudly and they both laughed. “Good, I was starting to worry you were a stalker.”

“No, I always liked that show. The performances are so incredible.”

Emma’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “Thank you. But you said before you never watched Dancing with the Stars. So why do it?”

“I know Regina told you. This is Neverland’s final season. Do you know how many TV stars have one hit show and little to no career afterwards?”

Emma abandoned her mug for good and leaned against the back of the couch, shifting to face him, “A lot, now that I think about it.”

“Exactly. And a lot of times it’s because people see them only as that character they played. Captain Hook is a larger-than-life role. I wanted people to see that there’s more to me.” Killian shrugged. “And I know the tabloid stories haven’t helped. I won’t lie – I got caught up in the sudden fame at first. Partying almost every night, keeping my romantic entanglements . . . casual.” He blushed as he glanced her way. “So you were right about me, Emma. But Rose and other friends helped snap me out of it. And I’ve left that all behind. I’m trying to be a better man.”

Emma tapped the arm of the couch. “You don’t have to defend your past to me. I get it.”

Killian seemed to visibly relax at that. “Good. So . . . your other sister?”

Emma nodded. “Anna. Well, poor thing was the clutz of the family. Tried dance classes when she was little, but it just wasn’t her cup of tea. Anyone who claims Ingrid was just adopting kids with dance talent should see her with Anna. She’s the reason Ingrid moved out to Colorado.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. Anna and her husband Kristoff run a ski lodge out there. They’ve got four rambunctious boys who are seven, five, three, and eight months.”

Killian whistled, his eyebrows raising to his hairline. “She’s got her hands full!”

“Which is exactly why Ingrid’s out there. She needed the help desperately.”

Silence fell between them, but not an awkward one. Emma rose and took her mug to the sink, pouring the last bit of hot chocolate down the drain. Once she’d rinsed it and set it in the dishwasher, she turned to find Killian up and collecting his jacket.

“I should probably get home,” he told her, “we have to start a whole new dance first thing in the morning, right?”

“Right,” Emma agreed with a nod and followed him to the door. She was genuinely surprised that he hadn’t pried about Henry’s dad. It also made her like him a bit more. As a friend, anyway.

He opened the door, then turned to her with a light in his eyes and mischief in his smile. “It was a lovely evening, Swan,” he told her, taking her hand and lifting it to his lips. His eyes never left hers as they lingered there for half a beat.

Emma scowled and snatched her hand away. “Why do you have to go and do that?”

Killian’s eyes widened. “Do what?”

“Get flirty like that. We were talking, and having a nice evening, and then you have to go and ruin it.”

Killian arched a brow at her. “And how did I ruin it, exactly? I merely thanked you for the nice time we spent together.”

“This wasn’t a date,” Emma hissed through her teeth.

He sauntered closer to her, leaning down to whisper in her ear, his breath fanning hot across her cheek. “And yet, you’re the one who brought up the subject. You sure it didn’t feel like a date?” Killian pulled back, grinning at her scandalously, his tongue darting out of the corner of his mouth. “Or were you waiting for a goodnight kiss?”

“You’re full of it Killian Jones,” she snapped, giving him a firm push out the door. “I’m not so sure you’ve changed at all.” Then she slammed the door in his handsome, cocky face.

Emma jumped when she turned to find Henry standing in the hallway behind her.

“Why were you so mean to him?” Henry accused. “I like him!”

Emma sagged against the door, rubbing her forehead wearily. “He’s an actor, Henry. You can’t trust him.”

Henry stood there, regarding her silently for a moment. “I think he likes you, Mom. And not every guy is like my dad. Not every guy’s gonna leave you.”

Henry didn’t wait for her to respond. He just turned and went back to his room, shutting the door gently behind him. Emma turned and pressed her forehead to the door with a groan. She couldn’t figure out Killian Jones. There were times he was full of swagger, then other times he was sweet and even a bit nerdy. Sometimes he seemed he wanted to be her friend, then other times it felt he wanted more. Then there were times he flirted outrageously and it seemed all he wanted was to get in her pants.

Emma pushed away from the door, resolute. It didn’t matter. They had a show to win. And after that, they would go their separate ways. She loved Henry, but he was too young to understand what men like Killian Jones were really like.

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

Emma dashed up and down the corridors backstage, swearing under her breath. This was the last thing she needed right now – a missing partner. She was already having to deal with a thick blonde Rapunzel wig that weighed a ton and a gimmick for their routine which hadn’t worked at all in dress rehearsals.

It was Disney week, and Killian had been both relieved and excited when they had been assigned a waltz to “I See the Light” from Tangled.

“I was worried they would make me Captain Hook – the cartoon version,” he had told her honestly.

“What?” she had teased. “Waxed mustaches and perms aren’t your thing?”

Despite the door slam to his face at her apartment, Killian had gone right back to their usual friendly, sometimes snarky banter. The only stress, honestly, this past week was the pressure they felt to deliver another high scoring routine. It may have been why Emma decided to open their number with Emma in a tower. Literally. It involved wires and the two of them actually rappelling down the side of a fake tower. Seriously. What had she been thinking?

And now it was only ten minutes till show time, and Killian had disappeared. Suddenly, Belle crashed right into Emma. She wore a blue dress identical to the one her namesake wore in the opening scene of Beauty and the Beast. She and Jefferson were doing a quickstep to “Bonjour,” with Jefferson as Gaston. They really had cast everyone perfectly, including Killian, who made an excellent Flynn Ryder.

But suddenly, Emma realized that Belle was trembling and crying. “Belle? What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“I – I didn’t mean to cause any trouble . . . I was looking for Jefferson . . . “

Emma hurried past Belle when she saw Killian behind the brunette, shoving Robert Gold into a wall. Killian held the other man, who was dressed like Facilier from The Princess and the Frog, by the front of his shirt.

“Killian!” Emma called out. “What the hell?”

The snarl that had marred Killian’s face melted when he saw Emma. Belle ran past her then with Jefferson at her heels. She ran forward and pulled gently on Killian’s arm. He allowed her to pry him free of Gold.

“He’s not worth it, Killian, please,” Belle spoke to him gently, “you’ll only get yourself in trouble.”

Killian deflated and nodded, giving Belle a tremulous smile. Then he turned to Gold and got right in the man’s face.

“I’m honoring the ladies’ wishes. A quality of a gentleman that I suggest you learn.”

Killian turned away, jaw clenching even as Gold laughed sarcastically. Jefferson shoved the older man in the shoulder and told him to shut the hell up before escorting Belle towards the dance floor. As she and Killian fell in step behind them, she elbowed him in the ribs.

“So, you, uh . . . want to explain what that was all about?”

Killian rubbed his jaw and continued scowling. “It just angers me when a man won’t take no for an answer.”

Emma’s eyes widened. “If Mr. Gold has hurt Belle, the producers won’t stand for it. I mean she needs to –“

“No,” Killian assured her quickly, “it isn’t that. He just keeps pestering her to go out with him. She tried to be nice at first, but it’s gotten to where he just won’t leave her alone. I caught him taking her by the arm just now, and when she tried to pull away . . . “

Emma squeezed his bicep, as they neared the wings. The introduction was already playing, and they had to make their appearance in less than five minutes. “Hey, I get it. The man’s a jerk, but you’ve got to calm down. Think of it as acting. Okay, Flynn Ryder?”

Killian grinned down at her, slipping easily into character, his hair falling rakishly over his eyes. “Are you ready for the smolder?” he teased.

Emma rolled her eyes, but was secretly relieved to have such an utter professional as a partner. They came out on stage doing the little bit they had practiced. A stagehand gave Emma her prop: a frying pan, and she made a big show of threatening Killian with it while he waggled his eyebrows charmingly. The rest of the cast was announced to roaring applause. Disney week was always popular.

Luckily, their dance came early in the show. Emma wanted to get their risky stunt out of the way so they could enjoy the rest of the afternoon. Killian came to the tower and made a show of calling up for “Rapunzel” to let down her hair, then grasped onto the vines snaking around it to climb up to her. They embraced at the window, then repelled down the tower together on the system of wires. Once at the bottom, they unsnapped the harnesses and started the waltz.

Once the opening stunt was out of the way, Emma fully enjoyed their waltz. It had been the easiest dance style for Killian to pick up, having done it on episodes of Neverland. Emma felt like a true Disney princess in her lavender gown, and the lanterns dangling from the ceiling washed the entire dance floor in a romantic glow.

“All at once, everything is different,” sang the studio band as Killian sank to one knee. Emma sat on the knee he offered, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her forehead to his. “Now that I see you,” the singers crooned the final line of the song.

Emma cheered, shaking Killian’s shoulders excitedly, knowing it was the best they had danced it. The studio audience agreed, cheering and surging to their feet. The cheers soon turned to boos, however, when Blue complained about the elaborate opening, telling them they should just stick to the waltz. Tiana and Teach weren’t all that thrilled with the stunt either, and in the end, they got two 8s and one 9 (from Tiana, of course). Emma was more frustrated this time than Killian, and as soon as they suffered through a short interview with Ashley, she stalked backstage in irritation.

Killian found her leaning against a wall backstage, her arms crossed tight around her. She knew the cameras couldn’t be far behind. It didn’t stop Killian from putting his arms around her and resting his chin on her shoulder.

“I think we killed it,” he told her.

Emma sighed and rolled her eyes.

“You know I can actually feel it when you roll your eyes at me?”

That managed to get a chuckle out of her. He eased her around to face him, gently lifting her chin so their eyes met.

“I just feel like I cost us a better score with my stupid tower idea,” Emma said, gesturing with her arms in irritation.

Killian shrugged. “The scores were still pretty good.”

“But we’re favorites now! The judges are going to keep nitpicking us, and I let the pressure get to me this week.”

He pulled her into a hug, and even though she knew this would probably end up in the recap footage next week, she let him.

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

The studio audience and the celebrities were shocked when it was announced that no one would be going home this week. The pros, on the other hand, pretended to be shocked. There was always a “non-elimination” week, and nine times out of ten, it was Disney week. Killian turned to her with a grin and a hug once the taping was over, but Emma was less enthusiastic.

“That means there will be a double elimination next week, so don’t get cocky, Jones.”

Liam came out on the dance floor to join them, giving them both hearty hugs. “Great job, little brother!”

Killian opened his mouth as if to correct him, then seemed to decide it wasn’t worth his breath. “Thanks,” he said instead.

Liam’s eyes suddenly lit up as he glanced over Killian’s shoulder. “Belle! Lovely to see you again! You were perfectly cast, of course.”

“Thank you,” Belle replied, grasping her skirt and making a little exaggerated bow. “With my name and a vlog called Beauty and Brains I was sort of asking for it.”

“Have you two watched Belle’s youtube channel?” Liam asked Emma and Killian. “It’s incredible! She gives young women fashion and makeup tips but also recommends classic literature for them to read.”

Killian glanced at Emma, his eyes alight as he quirked a brow. “And my brother is watching a fashion vlog . . . why? Need eyeliner tips, Liam?”

Liam turned a bright shade of red and started gaping like a fish. Belle, meanwhile, smiled up at him beneath her batting lashes. “I think it’s sweet,” was all she said as she took his hand and gave it a squeeze. Jefferson called for her then, and she dashed off, leaving a bewildered Liam behind.

“Liam,” Emma said, clearing her throat, “I thought you’d be heading back home by now.”

“Umm . . . I’ve . . . decided to stay a bit longer,” he murmured distractedly, his eyes still fixed on Belle’s retreating form.

Killian gave his brother a little shove. “Then go talk to her, you git.”

Emma and Killian both laughed as he nervously approached the petite brunette. Emma turned her head from studying the elder Jones brother to study the younger one. His face was relaxed, his eyes filled with delight as he watched his brother smile and laugh with Belle. As if he felt her eyes on him, Killian turned to her suddenly. She blushed and glanced quickly away.

“It was the smolder again, wasn’t it?” he teased. “I really can’t control it, you know.”

Emma rolled her eyes and punched him lightly in the gut. “And what I wouldn’t give for a frying pan right now,” she quipped.