#remember that emma ended up coming out recently so there is an out woman in the film now!

[darklinaforever]

Emma D'Arcy's words about Daemyra and Daemon :

"Daemon is a deeply problematic character. Seeing Rhaenyra being seduced and manipulated as a child by her uncle confirms this, and prevents the public from blinding the public to the problematic nature of their relationship." - Emma D'arcy .

So Emma… I love you as an actor but a few things to point out.

Daemon is a gray character. People need to stop trying to turn him into a villain, or at least amplify his dark side. I'm not saying Daemon isn't a problematic character. There are aspects of it, yes. Obviously, since he's a gray character. But generally the members of the series tend to associate these problematic aspects with things that don't have to be. As does (as Emma D'arcy said so well) that apparently Daemon seduced/groom a child Rhaenyra.

So, you should know that large age differences are common in feudal times and in the world of ASOIAF. Literally, Daemyra is no exception in this. In fact, it even seems to me that they are among the couples with the least age difference in Martin's universe. In the book, when Rhaenyra is a child, Daemon seems to love her in a classic family mode. Nothing indicates anything to move in their relationship. When she is 7/8 years old Daemon is exiled by Viserys and he does not return to Kings Landing until Rhaenyra is 14 years old, without having had any contact with her before or in recent years. Here, by Westeros standards, Rhaenyra is actually a marriage-ready adult, likely already being courted by men far older than Daemon. So that Daemyra had an affair in the 6 months following Daemon's return is nothing shocking or fundamentally problematic (especially when he's not even sure they slept together) Unless you trust Mushroom's version of course. But, it's well known, trusting Mushroom is universal bullshit. The age difference in this universe inspired by feudal times, not to mention the fact of getting married young, is literally the norm. If you accuse Daemon of being problematic in attempting to seduce/woo/marry a 14 year old Rhaenyra, or worse, being a pedophile (what is particularly ridiculous), well know that you are accusing almost all the men and women of this universe and time of being, when in the end it's just about different mores. In this scenario, Daemon is not an attacker. He is simply one of the men trying to woo Rhaenyra. Not to mention the fact that he didn't see her grow up at all due to her exile, which makes the whole thing even less problematic than it might seem to a modern audience. Yes, Daemon knew Rhaenyra as a child, but he didn't see her grow up, that's the nuance. George made sure this didn't happen. He did not see her go from a child to a young woman, because yes, I remind you, adolescence in this context does not exist, there is only childhood and adulthood.

On the other hand, if you're looking for a man who actually saw Rhaenyra grow up in the book, who was extremely and actively close to her throughout this evolution, and finally tried his luck with her once she was older, like 16 years old, and who is suspected (as Alicent did for example, when she hated Rhaenyra) of having had harmful intentions towards her, especially from the age of 13… Which obviously sounds like something particularly creepy… Well you have Ser Criston Cole, knight and protector of Rhaenyra ! So placed in a position of trust in relation to her when she was 7/8 years old. Not to mention that Rhaenyra was apparently under the spell of Criston Cole from that age and that's why she wanted him as her personal knight. Obviously, this aspect of the character of Criston Cole has been completely evacuated in the series with the changes of age. But if you're looking for a man in the book who might fit into the “grooming” category or at least come close to it in his relationship with Rhaenyra, well it's actually Criston Cole. Not Daemon.

And even if Daemon would have seen Rhaenyra grow up, as is ultimately the case in the series, remember that the two are part of an incestuous family. Thus, that they end up getting married does not necessarily mean that Daemon would have tried to seduce Rhaenyra as a child. This idea is based on literally nothing. Moreover, absolutely nothing indicates in the series, contrary to what Emma D'arcy says, that Daemon tried to seduce and manipulate Rhaenyra when she was a child / that he had harmful intentions towards her in this time there. At most, he just seems to have unconscious feelings for her in the first episode when she is apparently 14 years old according to Rhaenyra's words in episode 10… Except that in episode 2, 6 months older late after episode 1, Viserys says that Rhaenyra is 16 years old… Yeah the directors and writers weren't very well done chronologically I think. Anyway, officially Rhaenyra is 19 years old in episode 4 ! You know, the age at which Daemon tries to seduce her in the series…

Tell me Emma, I didn't know that 19 was still being a child, you're teaching me a great thing there ! You too have messed up on the level of the sea chronology… ?

Rhaenyra was an adult at the time, whether by the laws of Westeros, or ours. She also consciously wanted to fuck with her uncle in this episode, no doubt, and has done so probably even since episode 1. However, Daemon didn't do anything in particular to seduce her until this episode 4. Mysaria was literally his mistress in the first 2 episodes. And no, Daemon offering Rhaenyra a necklace is not evidence of grooming. According to the book, Daemon has been showering Rhaenyra with gifts since she was little, it's just a habit he's picked up with her. And no, it wasn't creepy or sexual ! In the first episode, as I said, Daemon seemed to harbor unconscious or repressed feelings towards Rhaenyra without actually engaging in any type of seduction with her. Then he seems to realize his interest in her in episode 2 when she challenges him, and he has feelings for her in episode 4. It's as simple as that.

Also, we can't be certain that Daemon was actively shoved into Rhaenyra's paws during her youth/childhood either in the series. At the start of episode 1, Rhaenyra tells Daemon that it's literally been an eternity since he's been seen in court, and from what has been shown of Daemon's character, that he doesn't really seem to fit in with the nobles and his opinion that the court just happens to be deadly boring, well that would ultimately indicate that he spends very little time there, and therefore Rhaenyra wouldn't have not the pleasure of his company that often. I mean, he's not called, "Prince of the City" for nothing. Without forgetting the 3 years when Daemon goes to war in the Stepstones. A little crappy for someone trying to groom Rhaenyra…

Not to mention no, the situation between Daemyra in episode 4 is not grooming. It's a form of seduction and manipulation to some degree, yes, but not grooming. Already, because it's an event that happens over the course of an evening, and grooming is a fairly precise process that generally takes time, but also and above all, because Rhaenyra is not a child, not even a teenager, she is an adult, whether again by Westeros standards or ours. In addition, besides the fact that Daemon does not manage to go to the end negatively speaking with Rhaenyra, due to obvious guilt and realization of feelings, well he is not doing a fundamentally bad act in itself, he is to nuanced, as the actions of a gray character should be instead of demonized. In this episode, thanks to Daemon, Rhaenyra learns and sees what sexual pleasure can be, that she can find joy and independence in it. Not simply to be cloistered in the “duty” that is marriage, and that despite that she can always take what she really wants. So something positive in itself, and who served her.

You really need to stop with all that Daemon bullshit trying to seduce/groom a child Rhaenyra, because it's literally based on nothing. Actors and directors should really shut up when they talk about the show. Especially since once again, they seem to forget that the age difference is a common thing in this universe. For exemple, Rhaenys and Corlys in the show are promoted as a good couple as Rhaenys was 16 and Corlys 37 when they got married according to the book. Strangely, here the age difference has never challenged or disturbed anyone. It's hypocrisy to point out the age difference specifically between Daemyra as problematic (worse, not to quote, to see outright voluntarily erase the other age differences between couples judged/shown as "good", while the difference is worse than Daemyra for precisely putting a negative emphasis especially on them for x reasons) when in the book and Martin's universe in general, well, they don't particularly stand out for that, and that there are even worse than them. And no one seems to see these relationships as problematic because of these age differences, which shows the obvious bias of some against Daemyra… Not to mention that I love how much the directors and actors (except Matt Smith, because he has a working brain) love to recall the problematic aspects around Daemyra, to the point of forgetting that they are telling a story in a feudal fantasy universe, but besides never touching on Alicent's deeply toxic relationship and Rhaenyra, talking only about the tragedy that separates them and the love they still seem to have despite all the crap (which I won't name, because others have done it much better than I can't do it, and I'm too lazy) that Alicent put Rhaenyra through. But I guess that's it when the show is partly written by idiots… ?

That's all I had to say on the subject. Please feel free to share your opinion respectfully. Cheers !

[ladylooch]

Emma being a big sister to jack and Luke hughes

🤭 hehehehe. Oh Jack is so glad he didn't have an older sister after this.

My left eye puckers from a distinct twitch. Lexi is talking to me about her most recent irritation with being 8 months pregnant and hating how much Nico is gone. But I can barely listen. Instead, my eyes are focused on the Hughes brothers who have set up shop at the end of the table, schmoozing and flirting with women who came here with sinister thoughts.

“Em.” Lexi whines, grabbing at my forearm as Nico and Timo return. “I need your support! I’m about to cut this baby out of me myself.”

“Yeah, it’s like that sometimes.” I shrug, ripping at my cocktail napkin.

“Here you go baby.” My brother murmurs to Lexi, leaning down to give her a kiss. She frowns down at the soda water with a lime.

“Take a sip of your beer and kiss me.” She snaps, gripping the middle of his sweatshirt and pulling his face to hers. 

“Remember those days?” Timo chuckles as he sits down next to me, smooching my cheek.

“Yeah.” I sigh, taking a big sip of my Cosmopolitan. “Mmmm.” I’m glad to not be the pregnant one with the heat we’ve had since returning to New Jersey.

“Bitch.” Lexi mumbles.

My eyes float back over to the Hughes boys again. I frown deeply at the woman fawning over Luke. She is way too…. Bleh to be talking to him and leaning in so enthralled with every word. And what the hell is Jack doing letting his little brother drink a beer so openly? He should be at least wrapping it up in a napkin.  The three other family members of mine talk together at the table without me about the newest Hischier joining us in a few weeks.

“Em.” Timo eventually pokes at my side.

I don’t respond. Instead, my eyes are laser focused on the blonde who is too damn close to Luke for my liking.

“Baby, I need to go to the bathroom.” I say to Timo abruptly. He stands, then watches me walk immediately in the opposite direction of the restroom. Luke chokes on his drink as I come to drop my full weight onto his thigh. His hand immediately goes around my hips, practically quivering, as I toss a casual arm over his shoulder. My pink finger nail pokes into Jack’s bicep.

“Who is your brother’s friend?” I ask Jack pointedly. He furrows his eyebrows at me, then looks behind us assumingely at my husband.

“Ah… Katie or something?” He motions with his drink then shrugging like he doesn’t care. I don’t even need to say anything. My look to Luke’s older brother says it all. “Ladies, thanks for keeping us company but ah… mom’s here now and it’s about our curfew.”

“You calling me old?” I quip back with a snort.

“No. I’m calling you a helicopter parent. Poor Lio.”

“Hey. Show some respect to your mother.” Timo snaps as he comes up, resting a hand behind Luke on the bar. “And get your hand higher than that, kid.” Luke blushes a deep red, taking a big gulp of his Coors Light. His hand stays in place on my left hip.

“Luke, I expect this from Jack, but not you.” I brush a curl off his forehead. He blushes deeper. 

“He’s a bad influence.” Luke mumbles.

“And to think you’ve been nominated for the Lady Byng. What is so gentlemanly about a different woman every night?” I tisk. “Guess this is why you don’t win.”

“Fuc-” He cuts himself off with an exasperated sip of his drink. 

“Take care of your brother. Or I’ll tell your real mom.” I retort. I kiss Luke’s cheek, then pats his shoulder before walking back to the table. 

Nico grins as I sit back down at our booth.

“I tried to tell him you would be visiting if he didn’t wrap it up.” 

“Some things Jack Hughes needs to learn the hard way.” I respond after watching Jack and Luke filter back to the rest of the single guys, forgetting about the vultures for the night.

[zatdummesmadchen]

Made some hetalia ships out of picrew! <3 and some thoughts about certain au’s.

Romerica: they both are cute farmers, Catherine is an Italian immigrant and Alfred is a city boy who has recently moved near her farm uwu. He thinks he’s the shit but he comes off as boyish and awkward. Catherine is frankly very annoyed with his antics, nonetheless he’s a hardworking boy when it comes down to it and she respects that.

Fraita: Francis is an aristocrat who has fallen for middle class Alicia, she has no idea what does the guy wants and he’s pretty intimidated and shy to say anything much. She works for his cousin and so he decides to ask the man for advice on how to woo a certain Italian mademoiselle.

Gerhun: Ludwig is a young man who has fallen for an older woman, Erzsebeta, strong and beautiful. Confused and also very intimidated, he decides to try his best and plans to get closer to her, to get to know her better. His feelings are pretty obvious to the lady, finding him rather endearing and gentlemanly, not bad at all if she says so herself.

Prukraine: Gilbert finally requests Kateryna to pay him a visit at his estate to which she agrees, they both are aristocratic, Kateryna finds him charming, handsome and respectful while he is absolutely smitten by the wonderful woman. they are about to have a picnic :3 Ivan might know about this, but as long as it strengthens relationships it doesn’t matter. albeit he is wary, nonetheless they both enjoy each other’s company.

Ruseng: Anya has visited England to discuss some diplomatic matters, Arthur blushes at her beauty and tries to cover it up by chastising her for not wearing proper winter clothes; Anya is taken aback by his concerns although it’s not that cold for her but doesn’t object to him as he leads her towards his home to get her a scarf. she finds it very charming and adorable.

Scotfra: Alistair and Francine are on a date in Paris after many years they have decided to finally get together once again. Alistair is very excited and Francine remembers the moments and the reasons she had chosen him, in the end. these both charming and insufferable dorks are very much in love no matter what anyone else says.

Nedtai: Taiwan has once again dragged her lover during a winter evening to have a little date with lots of snacks and a movie night with their friends. Lars is not amused in the slightest, he would be lying tho, if he said that seeing her happiness doesn’t make him feel happiness too.

Ruspan: they both are classmates; hanging out with their friends, Ivan decides to give Sakura a flower in secret as he calls her cute; the idiot not knowing his crushing so hard on her. the others decide to let him figure it out himself as they watch the couple in amusement.

Spabel: Childhood friends au. enough said. Emma has visited Spain after a long time and Antonio is more than delighted to accompany her and in the process, maybe ask her to stay with him during the stay. It’s been a long time since they met after all. call it a surprise date.

Romabel: Lovino is a simple farmer who is completely smitten by the supposedly ice princess; Natalya who is just a simple upper class girl, having no intentions to return the man’s advances. until one day, she pulls him along with her and orders him to be her date for the dance. blushing and scowling at the same time. not that he’s complaining, an absolutely beautiful lady asking him for a dance and you think he would say no? not happening.

[caffedrine]

Rio Ortiz Chapter 6 Summary

This is mostly a summary for me - I make no promises on the accuracy of what’s happening. I’m not nearly fluent enough to get half the jokes/innuendo much less accurate plot points.

Once, when Nokto was feeling bored and whimsical, he had invited Rio to play a game of chess with him. Finding Rio to be a evenly matched opponent and entertaining to banter with, these impromptu chess games have become more regular between the two men.

Today, instead of looking like he’s having fun, Rio looks troubled. He is asking Nokto for love advice. Nokto wonders why, out of everyone, Rio is coming to him. He comments that he can read Rio’s mental state through the way he’s playing chess, and it is not very pleasant.

Right now, Rio’s thoughts are more like Nokto’s, dark and evil, but with a pleasant veneer to throw off people.

Rio complains that between the two of them, Nokto is the evil one. Nokto points out that knowing who he is, and his reputation, Rio is still coming to him for advice.

Rio admits that he wants to be a good and honest man for Emma, but with the way things are going, he needs to strategize his courtship. Nokto tells him to throw any thought of being ‘good’ or ‘honest’ while strategizing to win a woman’s heart.

Rio explains that he feels like Emma is warming up to him, but he doesn’t recall doing anything different.

Nokto asks if Rio has always been so obsessed devoted? He mentions that Rio and Emma’s circumstances have changed recently, she might be into the Master-Servant kink. It’s not unusual for noble women to fall in love with their closest servant.

Rio is happy - if he has any chance of wooing Emma, now is the time to strike! Nokto is happy they’ve moved past any pretense that Rio is a good and honest person.

Nokto asks Rio if being in love is worth it, if it makes him happy. Rio enthusiastically assures him it is, especially if it’s with Emma. The time they spend together is the absolute best thing in the world.

Nokto muses that he can kind of sort of understand Rio, but to him women and relationships are means to and end. Tools, if you will. Rio remarks that one day, Nokto is going to get himself knifed in the back.

Suddenly Rio’s smile is gone, and he wonders if getting together with Emma would be good for her. He doesn’t remember anything past three years ago, and something from back then might jingle it’s way into hurting Emma. Maybe he should follow her lead and just keep their relationship at ‘close friends’.

In another part of the castle, Emma is in a study room, trying to focus on the material in front of her. Suddenly, a hand is placed on each of her shoulders. Emma looks up to see both Clavis and Leon have joined her. They both note that she looks unusually distracted.

She tries to stand, but both of them effortlessly hold her down in her chair, telling her not to bother to get up. Leon asks if she wants to talk about Rio now.

At Emma’s dumbfounded expression, Clavis laughs and tells Leon that he thinks Emma didn’t hear him correctly. Obligingly, Leon asks if she’s making that gloomy face because of Rio.

Leon explains that her expression is similar to the one she had yesterday when she was with Rio. He asks if anything new has happened between them.

Clavis complains that he’s just catching up on all of this, and tells Emma to tell Big Brother Clavis everything, which he will definitely not use against her.

Leon tells Emma they’re joking, she doesn’t *have* to tell them what she doesn’t want to, but neither of them are so heartless to leave her alone when she’s obviously bothered.

Emma tells them that actually, since they’re here and they’re free, she was hoping to pick their brains about domestic and international affairs. Since they have bothering better to do than sit around and gossip.

Leon and Clavis don’t mind, but they also don’t work for free. Even though their hands are finally off her shoulders, and she’s no longer being restrained, when each takes a seat next her her, Emma feels just as trapped.

Leon tells her that they really are worried about her, and would like to help her work through her Rio problem.

Fine. Emma makes them promise not to tell anyone what she’s going to say, and Leon promises that they will treat it like a national secret. Hopefully better than they’ve handled the Belle secret. Clavis promises that he’s a gentleman at heart and won’t spill any lady’s secrets.

Emma admits that she’s growing closer to Rio, but shes afraid of what will happen if things progress. It’s not because of his amnesia, it’s that she knows he has a place to return to, people who love and miss him. Although she’s been playing it off as a joke, she’s not blind to the fact Rio has been trying to move their relationship past the friendship line, and now it’s really starting to hurt.

Clavis points out that Emma is making some unfounded assumptions. He reminds her that after she found Rio, she actually did put effort into asking around the town about him. No one came forward, so he might genuinely not have anyone who misses him.

Emma tells them that there a few details missing from that, while Emma has no idea who Rio was prior to his amnesia, she actually has a lot of clues.

*Flash Back Time**

Shortly after she found Rio, discovered that he had amnesia, and found that no one in town recognized him, Emma and the bookstore owner went back to the area she originally found him. They searched around, and found nearby, at the base of a cliff, was a wrecked carriage hiding in the bushes. There was no identifying noble insignia, but the carriage looked like the kind used by nobles. They guessed it must have fallen from the cliff, and Rio had enough strength/self preservation to walk/crawl to the road where Emma found him.

They found a sword and jacket in the wreckage, fine enough to be a noble’s, but again, no insignia. Even though it’s covered with mud, Emma thinks that if the jacket was washed, it could be wearable. While brushing off some of the mud, a small box falls out of one of the jacket pockets. The bookstore owner picks it up and opens it. He immediately warns Emma not to give her heart to this mysterious stranger of theirs.

**Flashback End**

Emma explains that back then, she and the owner found an engagement ring.

[mejcinta]

It's funny that they're coming out now saying how they sent employees after critics like we all didn't know from the jump that they were doing that. All you had to do was post a picture of Rhaenyra on Twitter/X and the post got 3K likes in an hour.

I don't know how long you've been following me, but I remember around about a month after the end of Season 1 when we were going through the Behind the Scenes stuff and finding all these really fucked changes that Sara Hess made along with the absolute stupidity of some of the stuff that Olivia Cooke and Emma D'Arcy said about their characters ...

The push back was fucking psychotic, like mental Asylum levels of crazy. Like people threatening to kill me and hoping my dad dies levels of crazy ...

Someone accused me of being a pedophile because I kept mentioning how Sarah Hess though it was "Cool" that Olivia Cooke had a really fucking weird headcannon that Alicent and Rhaenyra played doctor as little girls that fostered Lesbian feelings ... which was one of the most fucked up things I've heard an actress say. And when I called her out some brainlet got weirdly offended and accused me of bring it up too much ... like I shouldn't fucking bring up when actresses say really weird groomer shit.

Anyway, I make a habit of not posting hate messages unless they put their name on it ... but I got to tell you that the hate messages I got for months was unreal. And they didn't start coming in till I took issue with Sara Hess, Olivia Cooke, and Emma D'Arcy.

So you bet your ass that HBO was going after critics of their shows.

And I was already on their shit list for a decade of my activity in the Game of Thrones fandom since the show began.

They were like "That's that Mutha'fucker on those podcasts that wrote "Sister Golden Hair" get'em!"

They even sent fucking Elio Garcia after me at one point.

I bet you've got horror stories of your own ... and you just joined the fandom relatively recently.

Wow! I need to look for those interviews, because I just never got the time before to do that. It would be on brand for Sara Hess, the woman responsible for the near downfall of Hotd, to utter nonsense.

I also understand that some of the actors' comments at the Comic Con 2 years ago left the audience a bit scandalised so there's that. It's upstate, out of touch modern lib behaviour, I've observed as an outsider, to not guage the gravity and awkwardness that some statements have on the regular Tom, Jane and Harry.

But yes. I do believe that HBO has ever since resolved to jump into over drive, battling more and more critics, some of which are formidable and respected You Tube commentators and show reviewers that called them out on their bs. It's no secret the hotd production started on uncertain, wobbly footing. They desperately need to make the project work, despite of the shit we now know of that continues to fly in the writers' room and production.

[holyshit]

.

[feathered-serpents]

I’ve been DMing on and off for eh, five years? And I think one of the moments that helped me grow most as a DM was also objectively one of the most hilarious things to ever happen in a game 

It was a Halloween one-shot for me a three of my friends, one of the rare one-shots that actually STAYED a one-shot in fact. It was a cosmic horror game with a Victorian-England inspired backdrop (NOT run in 5e, this was a specific horror system that I can’t remember the name of), obviously, my jam. The start of the game was the party all meeting in a bell tower after being forced into its lobby to take shelter from a storm. 

Now, obviously, there was some spooky shit in the tower. I don’t remember my original plan well as this was four years ago (disgusting) and the note doc I could find was 101 words long, but, from what I remember, the tower was cursed by the bellringer Virgil Belle (I think I’m funny) completely under the nose of the tower keeper Lady Adelaide who knows about the curse rumors but also thinks they are complete nonsense. However, the tower maid Emma recently came across Virgil doing curse antics and is now terrified of him and trying to tell what she saw to anyone who will listen. That’s what I had going into the one-shot.

My plan was for Emma to burst into the tower lobby from outside claiming things about Virgil to hook the party to start the quest. 

So, that’s what I did. After the players had introduced their characters and roleplayed a little bit and I sensed a pause in the moment, I had Emma show up. “You suddenly hear loud bangs coming from the front tower door.” However, I decided her just running in terrified wasn’t quite scary enough, so, when one of the players went to the door I describe the rain as suddenly turning thick, and black, like tar. Before him is this woman, wide-eyed and white as a sheet in a grey dress, looking up at him dripping with this mysterious ooze is now falling from the sky. 

The player sees this, this terrifying woman standing in the rain that has suddenly turned black, the hook of my entire plot for this game ready to spill the beans on what’s going on in the creepy tower. What does he do? 

He closes the door in her face before she can say a single word  

And suddenly I am DMing a completely different story 

Suddenly, the story is about uncovering the horrific secrets of Lady Adelaide, or as she is truly known, Adelaide Belle, a woman bound to the clock tower living endlessly through unnatural means. Those means? Bringing an aspect of an unspeakable cosmic horror in the world by forcing her daughter, Emma Belle, to birth it, killing Emma in the process but “rewarding” Adelaide with eternal youth. Emma’s ghost appearing to the party to try and beg them to put an end to it. 

And what is that aspect? Adelaide calls it Virgil Belle, an unseen inhuman thing that lives in the shadows of the upper bell tower floors and never actually confronting the party physically, them only knowing he was truly up there when the bell started ringing. 

All of that I pulled directly out of my ass during the course of a four hour game by just watching what my players did and suspected and building off of that. A game which, by the way, ended with the party blowing up the tower in a gas explosion and walking away without looking at it

I still think of it as one of my “shining moments” in DMing. It taught me that I work best as a DM when I am forced to improvise and think on my feet, not only that, it taught me that I like to improvise and think on my feet which is pretty good if you’re going to be a dungeon master. 

But I will never forget how fucking funny it was to have the plot knock on the door, and for my player to just be like “Nah fuck that shit” and slam the door shut 

[inkdaydreams]

Hii can i request an emma swan x reader fic with prompt number 20 “i’m not playing truth or dare”. where they were having a party at granny’s and one of them offers to play truth or dare, the reader declines at first (prompt) but ultimately joins. while playing the game she was forced to admit her feelings towards emma. ty :)

Ahhh I love this sm, ty for the request :)

No chance

Pairing: Emma Swan x Reader

Synopsis:

As always, all of my fics are body and race neutral. This one is also gender neutral.

The Storybrooke police department was understaffed and overloaded. Running a town was hard enough between three people (Sheriff Emma and her deputies David and you) but the duties seemed doubled when all of its inhabitants had some sort of power. Often times it was not just the three of you working on a case. Regina still held her mayor title after the curse broke and Snow, Belle, and Killian were all heavily involved volunteers more than happy to help.

The most recent case involved a group of mischievous teenaged fairies leaving graffiti in hard to reach places and erasing all evidence of their existence on camera footage. It had taken way longer to solve than anticipated and the seven of you felt you more than deserved a reward. That's how you found yourself at Grannys on a late night, sharing two large pizzas and old Misthaven folktales and crappy jokes for the past hour or so.

"Hey, hey hey hey, everybody!" Snow exclaimed, tapping the edge of her plate on her glass to get everybody's attention.

You couldn't help but sigh. Emma was sat opposite you right in the middle of a story. Her hands were moving animatedly and she was telling you about the time Henry had tried on her heels as a joke and fallen flat on his face and knocked his tooth out. You felt bad for the kid for uncovering such an embarrassing secret about him, but you loved hearing Emma laugh. You loved hearing her tell stories. You loved the way she chewed the inside of her cheek when she was trying to remember something. You scowled in your mind as the two of you turned to face Snow.

"Let's play a game. Truth or dare! Come on!" She insisted, looking across the table to you and Emma.

To your left, Belle was explaining the game to famously old-fashioned Killian. Emma had drawn her eyes to them too and was gearing up.

"Who's going first?" She asked, looking back at her parents on the other side of the table.

"Well I'm not playing." You insisted, standing up from your seat.

You forced a yawn and looked down at your wrist, struggling to style it out as you realised there wasn't a watch there.

"I don't blame you," said Regina, shrugging and leaning back in her seat. "We've had a long day."

"Don't be such party poopers, you two!" Snow exclaimed, standing up.

Her stance was a little wobbly and the grin on her face a little too wide. As David reached up to her waist to steady her, you realised Snow was drunk.

You looked down at your team. David was only tipsy, whereas Killian was struggling to look Belle in the eye. Regina and Belle were sober but uncaring. Regina being too apathetic and Belle too kind to point out if you embarrassed yourself. The only person that you had to fear was the woman you pined for. Emma was hard to read. You'd drank with her before but you'd never seen her drunk. You supposed she wouldn't allow anyone to see that side of her. A cloud of purple smoke enveloped you.

"If I'm doing it, you are too." Regina said, appearing by your shoulder. "Sit down."

You let the bossy queen put you back in your seat and walk back to her own. After a lot of chattering on Snow's end, it was decided Killian should go first so he would get used to the game.

"Alright," he slurred, "I choose dare!"

He did not get any more sober as an hour flew by. You checked at your watch, thinking you had just narrowly missed the end of the game. It had mostly been Snow and Killian drunkenly daring each other random things that seemed a lot more rebellious in their heads, and Belle, David, and Regina giving one another truths to answer that seemed a lot more like bonding opportunities than really invasive questions. David had swapped seats with Killian long ago, and while you and Emma kept yourself occupied in conversation this whole time, you had felt the trio glancing at you and grinning.

Emma stood up, and immediately you asked, "are you leaving?"

She looked down on you and shook her head rapidly.

"No, no of course not. I'm not gonna leave you here with my drunk mom." She laughed, pointing to the direction of the bathroom instead. "I'll be really quick, see ya."

You briefly glanced over at the trio to find them staring at you shamelessly. You kept your eyes fixed on them, confused as they stared you down with massive grins on their faces.

"I might leave though. I'm a little tired and I just want to unwind tomorrow." You confessed.

Emma looked over to the group and back at you, nodding in understanding. She placed a hand on the wall beside you, leaning in to whisper something in your ear. You could barely contain your shiver as she spoke.

"You better get going then, you look like you're next." She said.

As she pulled away from your ear, she kept her face close, winking at you.

"I'll- you're right- I'll see you tomorrow, I hope," you mumbled as she stood up straight again.

"You got it, I- I hope I see you tomorrow too!" She said, mimicking your response awkwardly.

You assumed it was out of respect for you. You cursed yourself for how embarrassing you were. With a nod, she slipped to the bathroom and you grabbed your phone to check the time. A shadow covered the restaurant light that was cast on the table before you.

"You haven't joined in the game, Y/N." David pointed out, making Belle laugh.

"You guys have been barely playing the game either. Regina asked truth and you asked what her favourite colour was." You reasoned, subtly feeling for your car keys in your jacket pocket. "The only people really playing are Killian and Snow and they're drunk out of their minds."

Another shadow appeared on the table and you finally looked up.

"Truth or dare." Regina demanded, jingling your keys in front of you. "Then can go home."

You rolled your eyes, feeling another yawn coming up.

"Fine, truth."

"Wait!" Snow shouted, dramatically waving her hand over at Regina.

The group gathered around the drunken woman, except for Killian, who was also nowhere near sober enough to move. Lucky he was sat beside her so all he had to do was manage to turn his head to face her while she spoke.

David laughed at his wife's idea, and when you looked at him, he looked back to the group who all nodded at him.

"You have to do a truth and a dare if you want to go home."

You rolled your eyes, leaning back against your chair. Eh, what the hell? Drunk Snow would probably just make you have a shot yourself or do some dance one of the kids she taught had shown her. Who would record it? Killian?

"And then you give me keys back?" You asked, standing up and making your way over to the door.

"They're all yours. Now, truth AND dare. I pick truth!" Killian exclaimed, pointing a finger in your direction.

Regina raised an eyebrow at the pirate.

"We have to do the truth first anyway," Belle sighed, looking up at you once more.

A moment of silence captured the room.

"Well?" You asked, placing a hand on your hip. "Spit it out."

"Do you have a crush on Emma?" Snow blurted. "Do you have a crush on my daughter?"

"I-"

Your eyes darted around, taking in the ceiling, the floor, anything but them.

"I knew it!" Belle cried.

"I didn't even day anything!" You protested, placing your hand on the door.

"You said something alright... not with your words, but with your eyes." Regina chuckled, walking over to your side, dangling the keys in your outstretched palm.

"Now I pick dare." Killian mumbled, waving his hand over at Snow.

"Yes, I dare you to ask her out." Snow said, giggling wildly.

"Ask who out?"

Everyone's heads whipped around in the direction of the bathroom door.

"Emma- oh- what a nice surprise..." You mumbled, cringing at yourself for daring to speak.

"I thought you were leaving." She said, sitting back down in her seat.

You couldn't help but notice a crack in her voice, or the way she looked at you but not in your eyes.

"Uh uh uh," said Regina, grabbing your keys towards her and holding them to her chest, "not before you do the dare."

Emma couldn't look more uninterested. She looked down at her nails and pulled out her phone. Maybe she was upset you had accidentally lied to her about leaving. You couldn't imagine what else it could be. Well, upset or not, she was your ticket home so she'd better suck it up.

All eyes were on you as you called her name. She looked up at you once more, blank uncaring expression on her face.

"Will you go out with me?"

A relieved smile forced itself onto her face, she couldn't help it. Regina tossed your keys in your direction and you caught them in one hand. You breathed a sigh of relief. In all honesty you expected to miss and have to walk across the room for your keys in shame.

You didn't look at anyone but Emma. If you did, you would have felt more embarrassed than you already did.

"I'd love to." She replied, and a cheer vastly dominated by Snow and Killian erupted in the small diner.

You waited until it died down and pushed the door open.

"Great! That's great! Maybe here tomorrow morning at 10? Or- actually maybe not here- uh- you have my number I'll text you the details!" You said, before stumbling out of the diner and rushing to your car.

As you placed your hands on the steering wheel, you glanced once more inside the window of the diner. Emma was blushing now, shoving her mother away from her as she celebrated. Killian offered her his beer and she took a swig like it was water.

Biting back a smile, you switched on the radio very low, and drove home, mind spinning with all the ways you could plan the perfect first date.

[inawickedlittletown]

Queerbaiting and Buddie

(word count: 1,900)

I keep saying that I don’t want to spend any more time on 9-1-1 meta or fic, but the events of this weekend made me open up a document where I had some unfinished meta and in light of the S4 finale airing tonight, I thought I might at least write this: 

“Queerbaiting is a marketing technique for fiction and entertainment in which creators hint at, but then do not actually depict, same-sex romance or other LGBTQ representation. They do so to attract a queer or straight ally audience with the suggestion of relationships or characters that appeal to them, while at the same time attempting to avoid alienating other consumers.” 

That is how Wikipedia defines queerbaiting. And I really feel like everyone needs to read that and then read it again and realize that what is happening on 9-1-1 with Buddie is NOT queerbaiting. 

I don’t want to go into the long history of queerbaiting because we would be here all day and anyone that wants to do some research should go and do so. There are a lot of resources out there. Use them. 

But the short of it is this: queerbaiting has a lot more to do with the way a show is promoted, with the way that anyone involved in the show talks about a queer ship, and with the show deliberately scripting scenes that hint at a relationship without any intention of following through. Expectations and wanting a queer ship to go canon and those expectations not being met do not alone equate to it being queerbaiting. 

For any of us that have been around a long time there are a lot of perfect examples and if you compare Buddie to any of them, they are very different. I’ll name a few:

Merlin/Arthur

John Watson/Sherlock

Emma Swan/Regina

Derek/Stiles

Castiel/Dean Winchester (though they did go canon...barely)

Lena/Kara

Buck and Eddie do not fit into that list. Which isn’t to say that someday they could belong there, but I just do not believe that they will even if Buddie never becomes canon. And this all lies in how Buddie as a ship has been treated both on screen and off. I’ll break it down by season. 

S2: 

Eddie is very clearly introduced as a new character, a straight Army veteran with a disabled kid and family drama. He and Buck have immediate chemistry. We can’t deny that, or deny that from that first episode there are immediate sparks. Unintended sparks, but sparks nevertheless. And it is easy to tell that no one on the production team expected that and the story reflects that. 

Yes a foundation for their friendship is formed and yet the season long story focuses on Eddie’s relationship with his estranged wife and Buck is dealing with his own growth after being left by Abby. Their friendship shines and their scenes are great but none of them suggest romance and there are actually a lot of episodes where Buck and Eddie barely interact in S2 aside from in the background or for small work related moments (this mostly happens after Shannon returns). 

S2 does give us the first acknowledgement from the powers that be aka Tim Minear that they know what the fans have seen. This is why the elf scene exists, but it exists in a space where it’s a nod to the fans and not meant to do much more than that. The other moment is during the call with the livestreamer. But S2, places them completely and without question on a strong friendship. 

S3: 

We see a lot more conflict for Buck and Eddie in this season and we see how close and important they are to each other. Those are the two main things. That can be read as friendship easily and it’s a season where both Buck and Eddie deal with their pasts and in one way or another start to get closure while their friendship remains intact. 

Yes there are some scenes that make us squint and go huh, wtf? (I’m looking at you kitchen scene), but narratively we also know that neither of these boys is ready for a real relationship with anyone, let alone each other. But we can bask in how close they are as well as how Christopher fits in into all of it. 

But in S3 we are also introduced to Ana and we see the return of Abby. We also get to see that Buck and Eddie have become closer than ever and that the lawsuit only serves to highlight the importance that they both feel about having the other available to them. I’ll also quickly mention that Eddie Begins worked hard to highlight Buck’s devotion to Eddie. 

S4: 

Without considering the events of the finale (I am avoiding spoilers and know nothing about it or the speculation), we’ve seen Buck and Eddie both grow and get further closure on their past. This season has paralleled them well and their friendship has not faltered, they’re as close as ever. 

The beginning of the season was heavily focused on Buck and we saw him grow as a person and begin to work on himself in a healthy way and we’ve seen Eddie be supportive of that. 

We also have Ana to consider and her relationship with Eddie as well as the return of Taylor and yet the appearance of these women has not changed the Buck and Eddie dynamic. And I find it fascinating that Eddie beginning to date Ana, is the thing that prompted Buck to start dating. The parallels are all over the place but it is the strength of the friendship and the way they care so deeply about each other that remains whether that becomes romantic is still to be seen, but it could still go either way.  

Off-screen by the end of S2, Tim Minear had already addressed Buddie by throwing in that elf scene in a wink/nudge fashion that said “I see you” and in the scene with the girl with the livestream with the comments. During S3 he tweeted about being frustrated by the fans demanding and being hostile and thinking that that would make him more likely to do what they want (I’m paraphrasing what I remember seeing). Tim has never once said that Buddie will happen or shut the door on the ship entirely, but he did say he did not want to engage in conversation about it because he doesn’t want to get into arguments with fans. 

Oliver has always been enthusiastic about Buddie and has even said that he would be perfectly fine with it happening both a while ago and more recently in promo for S4. Conscious of queerbaiting and not wanting to give fans false hope, he has specifically said that he does not know if it will or won’t happen and that he wouldn’t speak on that as he’s not the one making that decision. His support for it happening does not mean he has any sway one way or the other. He’s said this a few times and even wrote a letter to the effect to make it clear to fans that the last thing he wants is to disappoint someone due to something he’s said. 

All in all, it just isn’t a constructive environment for anyone working on the show to interact with fans on this topic because any time that they do, they get attacked by overly enthusiastic buddie shippers that in many ways are making everything worse. 

In all of the interviews from Tim that I’ve seen, he has always been very quick to hint at what was coming up on the show in a way that at times has been misleading on purpose. The number one thing that comes to mind is early in S4 where Buck was said to get a new woman in his life. Tim absolutely made it out to seem like it was a girlfriend while knowing fully well that it was a therapist. This is an excellent example of what promoting and hinting is actually like. No one from this show has done that in regards to Buddie. 

No one has gone out of their way to hint that it may happen in a way that excites the fans. And this is one of my main reasons for knowing that Buddie is not a queerbait. At no point in the life of the show so far has anyone used Buddie in a promotional way to bring in viewers. Because THAT was the whole point of queerbaiting in the past. 

It was a way that some showrunners found to bring in a lot of viewers when they needed to up their numbers in order to show networks they were worth keeping around. Someone figured out that LGBTQ people wanted to see themselves represented so much so that they would tune in to anything that promised an LGBTQ character in some fashion. It was a tactic that worked well in the landscape of tv where there was so little LGBTQ content on mainstream media that anyone wanting it would latch onto anything. And then they just wouldn’t deliver on those relationships or characters. In 2021, that is not the world we live in any longer. 

In today’s tv landscape there is so much to watch and so much to pick from and diversity has grown, it is celebrated. Queer characters are well represented as are queer relationships and queer stories. The times are different. A while back I was listening to a podcast (Bait: a queerbaiting podcast) and something I found interesting was how the hosts both agreed that in today’s tv landscape there is no more real queerbait and that we won’t easily find anything like the ships I mentioned above. I think I agree more with this than I expected to, because I do think that it exists in some spaces, but it definitely isn’t what it used to be. This is a good thing. 

Specific to 9-1-1, this is a show that has that diversity and that isn’t afraid of tackling that diversity and giving us interesting and nuanced perspectives and stories embracing that. We have characters of color, women in positions of power, a F/F relationship, two multi-racial relationships, a disabled character, other queer characters including a M/M relationship. There is so much in this show that embraces diversity and that embraces the reality of what the world looks like. To call it queerbait is to disrespect everything else that this show is and has done and the hard storylines that have been tackled that we would not have seen on tv ten years ago. 

And I get that Buddie would be another breakthrough. It would be a novel way to tell a queer story, and it would be amazing if it were to happen. The set up is there, but it isn’t fully realized, and Buck and Eddie can still be read as just friends if we take off the shipping goggles. But it also isn’t queerbait or likely to become queerbait and people have to stop calling it that. 

What Buddie resembles is one of the many unintended slow burn ships that have frustrated viewers in many forms across fandoms and we just have to go along for the ride and maybe it will happen. Or maybe it won’t. But if we know anything about relationships on tv, it is that a lot of the fun comes from the journey, even if the destination is good too. 

[bamfdaddio]

X-Men Abridged: 1981

The X-Men, those back-to-the-future mutants that have sworn to protect a world that hates and fears them, are a cultural juggernaut with a long, tangled history. Want to unravel this tapestry? Then read the Abridged X-Men!

(Uncanny X-Men 141 - 152) - by Chris Claremont and John Byrne, Brent Anderson, Dave Cockrum, Jim Sherman, Bob McLeod and Josef Rubinstein

While I also committed various fashion atrocities at the age of 14 (tye-die and fauxhawks, oh my), even Liberace would find Kitty’s outfits too much. (Uncanny X-Men 149; Uncanny X-Men Annual ‘81)

We dial back from the v. epic scope of the last few arcs. Instead, 1981 is just a lot of fun! We get:

Storm and Emma doing a Freaky Friday!

the X-Men vs. Magneto (again!)

A surprisingly effective Alien rip-off

An dystopian future! (OoOoOoOo)

Last year was the year of the Dark Phoenix, this is the year of Kitty Pryde. That’s not to say Jean’s death is swept under the rug: all throughout, we see her friends mourning her loss or remembering her fondly. (Scott even gets to have a demonic adventure about it.) But in general, Claremont puts Kitty in the forefront, fleshing out his YA-addition to the team. And what would a YA heroine be without a grim dystopia? Roll out the iconic Days of Future Past!

To be fair, 2013 was a dark time for all of us: What Does the Fox Say somehow got to the top of the charts and I was still watching Glee. (Uncanny X-Men 141)

How cool would it have been to see a name like Jonothon Starsmore or Eva Bell on those tombstones?

Anyway, that’s Kate. Kate’s had it rough. Mutants are at the bottom of the foodchain, most X-Men are dead and only a small cadre of resistance fighters remain, Sentinels dominate, and while she is married to Piotr, her children have been murdered. Bleak. Luckily, the rebellion has concocted the plan to shunt Kate’s spirit back in time to prevent this awful future from happening. (You’ve seen Days of Future Past, the last passably good X-Men film, you know what’s up.)

Let’s do the time warp again! 1981!Kitty’s mind gets taken over by 2013!Kitty, who promptly tries to convince the X-Men that a new Brotherhood of v. Evil Mutants will try to kill Senator Kelly, a presidential candidate who tries to put the mutant menace on the agenda. (Mutants tend to blow stuff up when he’s around.) Since the X-Men recently took a literal trip to Dante’s Infero and also befriended a cosmic world-ending entity, they basically shrug and go: “Yeah, this checks out.”

Off to Washington they go (zoommm) and there, they happen upon the Baddest Bitches in Herstory:

“How dare you hate mutants, senator Kelly! We’ll fix that by killing you!” (Uncanny X-Men 141)

This All-New, All-Different Brotherhood consists out of:

Destiny, a blind woman who can see the future. Definitely the eeriest member of this group. Badass lesbian, though that won´t be canon for years.

Avalanche. Greek who makes things shake. Is a long-standing member of the X-Men Rogue’s gallery, but rarely features in the spotlight. I think he got more characterization in four years of X-Men Evolution than he ever did in the comics.

Mystique. Shapeshifter. Ruthless and unhinged, the Cersei Lannister of the X-Men universe. Absolute legend, secretly the wife of Destiny, currently not as unhinged as she’ll be later. Immediately implied to be related to Nightcrawler: it’s the yellow-eyes-blue-skin-combo.

Pyro. Can manipulate fire, not create it. Absolute pillock, in all the best ways of the word. Originally intended as gay, but they decided to make him Australian instead. (?!)

Blob. Big, strong, immovable. We’ve seen him before.

One of the details in this fight I enjoy is that Storm is still struggling with her leadership, although she has a better grip on things than Cyclops:

Wolverine then proceeds to use those iconic but deadly claws about twice per issue for the next, oh, forty years. (Uncanny X-Men 142)

While the X-Men fight the Brotherhood in the present, we cut back and forth to the future. There, the X-Men consist out of some familiar faces - Storm, Colossus, Wolverine - and some surprises: Magneto (in a wheelchair), Franklin Richards (son of) and an unfamiliar ginger girl called Rachel. (She’ll be important later.) We even learn (one of) Magneto’s names: this is the first time he’s canonically called Magnus.

One of the strengths of Days of Future Past lies in its brevity, the way it tantalizingly taunts us with a brutal but familiar future without giving away too much. It’s single-handedly responsible for all those dark future timelines the X-lines are so fond of which will eventually culminate in time-displaced grandsons from alternative dimensions and the impossibility of a succinct answer to the question: “Who’s Cable?” Too much of a good thing and all that.

Still, what Days of Future Past does so successfully is:

Put the idea of the mutant menace back at the forefront, hammering home the metaphor of mutants being a minority. Mutants being put in camps and being forbidden to breed should - regretfully - make us think of all too many real life equivalents. (Specifically, all of the imagery harkens back to the Holocaust.)

It starkly shows what happens should the X-Men lose, reminding everyone of the stakes. The X-Men are here for a reason: bridging the gap between mutants and humankind. If they fuck up, we end up with mutant concentration camps.

It helps that the X-Men in the future almost all die horribly: Franklin is incinerated, Storm is impaled… It's brutal stuff. The only one to survive is Rachel, who wonders if their plan actually changed the future or if they created an alternative timeline. (It did the latter, sorry ‘bout it, Rachel.)

In the present, Kate chases after Destiny, who trains a gun on senator Kelly. I always wondered how this works: if Destiny saw the future, she knew that killing Kelly would trigger a terrifying future. What in the current Marvel timeline made her decide that the Days of Future Past was better? Did she see her own death? Did she see the Onslaught-crossover coming? The Chuck Austen run? What was it?

In any case, time-anomalous Kate stops Destiny from killing Kelly and the future is safe! For now. Kate disappears, Kitty returns to her body and some of the Brotherhood are apprehended. All is well, for now.

After being a key figure in DoFP, Kitty is also the main character in the Christmas special, which is basically a straight up horror and a pastiche of the Alien-movie.

Seriously, John Byrne still isn’t sure why he wasn’t sued by Ridley Scott for this. (Uncanny X-Men 143)

If you love Kitty Pryde? Read this issue. If you’re not convinced you like 80’s Kitty? Read this issue. It’s not continuity relevant and it’s basically Kitty playing the part of a Final Girl in a horror where she’s being chased by a demon, but it’s so good. It showcases all her strengths and her foibles. Kitty’s intelligent, cute (sometimes preciously so) and brave, but she’s also young, self-conscious and hot-headed. And it's not as if the other X-Men automatically adore her: Storm berates her all the time, she’s afraid of Kurt because of the way he looks (though she grows out of that) and she fights with Professor Xavier a lot. Moreover, she has a clever power-set for a young superhero who faces menaces on a daily basis: a thirteen year old who can go intangible is far less likely to have reality ensue on her and be dramatically offed because she's better at protecting herself.

I’m sure there are people who thought Sprite was hogging the spotlight, but I, for one, say she brings more to the table than, say, Angel. She’s not the Dawn Summers of this franchise.

Scott also gets a side quest. Poor guy can’t catch a break: first the love of his life dies, so he quits the X-Men, then he realizes he can’t do much else than be a superhero. He becomes a sailor on the ship of spunky captain Lee Forrester, is drawn into the sadistic plans of a demon unironically named D’Spayre and then shipwrecks in Bermuda with Lee.

The X-Men, meanwhile, are tormented by a team-up of Doom (who’s currently Latverialess and working on a comeback) and Arcade, that annoying crony. Locke, Arcade’s dom, has kidnapped the loved ones of the X-Men (Moira MacTaggart, Jean Grey’s parents, Illyana Rasputin and Amanda Sefton) in order to blackmail them into getting Doom to free Arcade. Apparently, Arcade accidentally insulted Doom and DOOM DOES NOT FORGIVE THAT FOLLY.

While the B-Squad (Polaris, Havok, Banshee and Iceman) goes to save Arcade’s hostages, the X-Men sneak into Doom’s castle. Well, except for Storm, who doesn’t give a single fuck and simply flies up to Doom, demanding an audience. Doom likes the cut of her jib and invites her to have dinner. (This is pre-Tinder, so this is a legit way of scoring a date.)

If Storm has a flaw (I said if!), it’s got to be her atrocious taste in men. (Uncanny X-Men 145)

The X-Men find Arcade’s cell empty, while Arcade casually saunters up to Storm and says hi. Storm realizes too late that this is a trap: while the X-Men are all trapped in Saw-like traps, Storm is encased in ‘living chrome’.

If you remember she’s claustrophobic, you know why this is a bad move.

While the X-Men free themselves from their traps - Polaris hilariously has to deal with a murderous merry-go-round - Storm is slowly driven mad in her prison, triggering a worldwide tempest. (She causes Lee and Scott to shipwreck.) Under the threat of Wolverine’s claws, Doom releases Storm - or rather, unleashes her.

“Instead of a Dark Lord, you would have a queen, not dark but beautiful and terrible as the dawn! Tempestuous as the sea, and stronger than the foundations of the earth! All shall love me and despair!” (Uncanny X-Men 147)

The memory of Jean brings Ororo back to herself and she starts undoing the superstorm she created. (If only climate change were reversed that easily.) Their confrontation ends by Storm easily forgiving Doom, because she apparently trespassed on his grounds without adequate cause.

Mkay.

All of Arcade’s hostages return to their homesteads, except for Illyana Rasputin, Piotr’s sister: she’s staying at the mansion for a while. Angel, who’s sort of been a part of the team since the Phoenix thing, has had it with Wolverine and his ‘tude, and decides to quit the X-Men : he doesn’t want to be a part of an outfit that has a killer like Wolverine on it. (Or maybe he’s just mad Claremont didn’t give him any storylines: his presence has been mostly pointless.) It’s too bad he left before Kitty started experimenting with her outfits: I bet he would have loved her ugly-ass costumes.

Equally inconsequential is the introduction of a brand new character, who then proceeds to disappear from the narrative for the rest of the year:

Black Tom has tried to kill you at least twice, but him sending you a long-lost daughter doesn’t give you pause? Ugh, Sean, you deserve Moira. (Uncanny X-Men 148)

Intrigued by Theresa? TOO BAD, WON’T SEE HER AGAIN ANYTIME SOON.

Another new character is the lonely, decidedly mutant looking Caliban, who can sense “people like him” and is on the lookout for companions. Like many lonely people who try and grasp at friendship, he decides to overshoot his shot and ruin the night of Storm, Kitty and Jessica Drew at a Dazzler concert. Because he tries to kidnap Kitty, the girls react a trifle aggressively. When they realize their mistake - the eerily pale Caliban is a simpleton rather than a menace - he’s already fled. No mention is made of the Morlocks yet!

There’s also another dull annual where the X-Men team up with the Fantastic Four to save Arkon’s dimension from the Badoon and yaaaaawn. Far more interesting is the landmark issue #150. Slowly, through the adventures of Scott and Lee Forrester, Claremont has been setting things up for the return of a favorite villain. While the X-Men investigate Magneto’s old base in Antarctica on a hunch of Professor X and tangle with Garruk, Scott and Lee survive Storm’s tempest, only to wake up next to a strange island that seems to have been raised from the ocean.

It’s apparently some ancient citadel from a long forgotten civilization with a fondness for squid statues. (I don’t know man, I’ve never been to the Bermuda Triangle, maybe this is just super-accurate.)The tentacles make Lee Forrester feel very amorous, but before Scott can tell her he is way too repressed to just have sex with an attractive someone he’s known intimately for a month or two, Magneto saves his ass by revealing he, in fact, raised this island from the seafloor.

Oh, Magneto. So extra.

My ambitious little mutant demagogue then proceeds to take the entire world hostage, showing how much he’s grown from the pompous, raving madman from the sixties. (Sure, Magneto is still a bit of a madman, but increasingly, he starts being on the right side of history.)

“I’m trying to make Magneto more sympathetic.”

“Just put him on a page with some bigger villains who are less noble, like the Vanisher, Count Nefaria, or…”

“Reagan, Thatcher and Brezhnov?”

“Er.” (Uncanny X-Men 150)

It’s obvious Magneto is being pivoted as a more noble villain, codified into the well-intentioned extremist we know and love today. Not only do we get the first hints at his past, fleshing out his motivations, he’s also not wrong. Humans are historically not great at taking care of the planet or each other.

When the Russians call his bluff and launch nukes at Magneto’s new island, he quickly disarms them. His retribution is swift and ferocious: the entire citadel is a machine that massively amplifies his powers. He sinks the submarine that launched the missiles, condemning the entire crew to death, and he casually erects a vulcano in a Russian city in Siberia.

Damn. Not messing around this time.

Despite his good intentions, Magneto is still definitely in the wrong: not only because of his methods, but as Scott points out: if Magneto unifies the world under his kind of benevolent dictatorship, all of that will simply fall apart as soon as Magnus dies.

In a way, Magneto is just as big a dreamer as Charles is: Charles believes in peace and integration, whereas Magneto believes his iron fist will be enough to make a perfect world happen. Both of them ignore the reality that acceptance is difficult and messy, because you’re trying to change essential human nature: the fear of the other. Magneto believes in big, sweeping gestures that will fix the world in move, while changing the world is also boring, hard work. One step forward, two steps back. Magneto just wants to leapfrog to his ultimate goal.

The X-Men fly over the citadel, returning from Antarctica, and their plane crashes into the ocean. (Magneto does not brook planes over his territory, humans!) The Professor is also nearby, looking for Scott with Moira, Peter Corbeau and Carol Danvers. The X-Men sneak onto the island, but to their horror, their powers are nullified by some machine of Magneto. They reunite with Scott, who formulates a plan to thwart the would-be ruler of the world.

While the rest of the X-Men go to trash the machine, Storm, Kitty and Lee infiltrate the control chamber where Storm finds a sleeping, shirtless Magneto. Once again showing her terrible taste in men, she is not weak in the knees at the sight of a sleeping Magnus: instead, she contemplates killing him.

Storm knows how dangerous he is, but she also knows that he’s a great man who’s fighting for ideals, no matter how misguided. She hesitates too long: Magneto stirs, suspects an attack and tosses her out of the window, to her death.

Magneto quickly undoes the sabotage the other X-Men have wrought to his machine. A fight erupts. Storm, meanwhile, has managed to grab hold of a ledge. She crawls back up and smashes an important-looking computer, restoring everyone’s powers.

The battle turns grim, but Scott sends Kitty away to wreck Magneto’s machinery. She sneaks off, following Scott’s orders and destroying both Magneto's power-up device and all of his plans by phasing though the computer circuitry. Magneto senses this and furiously gives chase. Overcome by rage, he attacks Kitty and disrupts her phasing power with a magnetic bolt, seemingly killing her?

Everything about this story beat is great: mama bear!Ororo, mournful Magnus and even the fact that Kitty’s godawful outfit serves a narrative function: highlighting to us (and Magneto) just how young she is. The fact that Kitty’s Jewish is just icing on the cake. (Uncanny X-Men 150)

And thus, the softening of Magneto commences. 1981 might be a year with wildly varying narratives, but it has given us at least three enduring legacies to the X-Mythos: a new kind of Magneto, a fondness for dystopian futures and the character of Kitty Pryde, who's really come into her own this year.

Ugliest Costume: Kitty! Purposefully, but still. Best costume, by the way, goes to Destiny, with her creepy, creepy golden mask. Just imagine this lady casually strolling across a battlefield, eerily calm and collected, dodging everything you throw at her. Awesome design.

Best new character: I usually pick one character - what good is having a shared award when declaring the best of anything? - but this year, it’s going to one of my favorite couples: Mystique and Destiny. Can’t wait to see more of them.

Most audacious retcon: Blob somehow retroactively becomes a member of the original Brotherhood, which is not what happened. Ever weirder is Xavier pondering that he never met Magneto before his attack in X-Men #1, while their cordially adversarial relationship rooted in a youthful friendship would soon become a cornerstone of the X-Men.

What to read: Uncanny X-Men 141 - 143 and 150 - 152

[lucyintheskywithxanax]

Light Shall Smite Her

Pairing: Mildred Ratched x Reader

A/N: hello @serawalkerwrites​, this is my humble gift to you as your SP secret gifter 😌😘 I’m so nervous to post this, I hope you’ll like it. If you don’t, in the words of Puck, “This weak and idle theme, / no more yielding but a dream, / gentles do not reprehend. / If you pardon, we will mend.” x

(please bear in mind English isn’t my first language, so my apologies for weird sentences)

Word count:  ≃ 5 600

“I heard the new head nurse is very beautiful.”

Rosie waited expectantly for an answer. You hummed.

“I said,” Rosie repeated, in a louder, slightly annoyed voice, for she was excited and couldn’t bear your ignoring her right now, “I heard she’s very beautiful.”

You gave her a sideways glance by way of an acknowledgment, not bothering to stop your quick scribbling.

Rosie rested her elbows on the table and leaned towards you. “Don’t you care?”

“I’m writing,” you mumbled.

“Aren’t you interested, though?”

“Listen, Rose,” you started, setting your pen down and finally meeting your co-worker’s eyes, ”my break is over in five minutes, and I want – no, I need – to finish this, so would you be so kind as to postpone this conversation until later?”

Rosie straightened up with an irritated click of her tongue. “Fine,” she hissed. “I was just trying to be nice. Knowing you’re single, and all.” She turned, made to leave, but suddenly stopped to mock over her shoulder, “And by ‘and all’, I’m referring to the pathetic rant I had to suffer through last night about how ‘lonely’ you feel and how ‘unfair’ the universe is. I’m just trying to help.”

“Thank you, Emma Woodhouse,” you called after her as she angrily stomped out of the room.

With a sigh you resumed your writing. You hadn’t meant to be so harsh with Rosie, but you really needed to get rid of your thoughts and ideas by writing them down before your break was over. If you didn’t, the words would howl reproachfully in your head for the rest of the day, make a racket and fog your brain till you were finally able to spit them out on paper.

Just a few minutes more, you begged the clock on the wall. Your wrist was aching. Two more lines, and then you finally sat back in your chair with a huff like a warrior who has won their hardest battle.

You glanced up at the clock. Break over.

The clinic was unusually quiet today. A few patients looked up at you as you passed them on your way down the corridor. You offered them smiles, blinked at the sun when you glanced outside.

The lobby was deserted. You worked at the front desk, and were in charge of most administrative tasks – a rather boring job, but it paid well and left you enough time to write.

You were sorting out schedules when Rosie crossed the lobby, pushing an old man in a wheelchair. She shot you a moody look and mouthed something you didn’t understand. Five minutes later she was back; and, planting her elbows on the front desk, mouth tight and eyes studying your face, she started, “So, as I was saying, the new –” but before she had time to finish there was the sound of a door opening, heels, a voice speaking quickly, and then two people walked briskly into the lobby.

And one of them was a male nurse you knew called James, a boring, conceited person you couldn’t care about; and the other – but someone had drugged your coffee. There was no other explanation.

James came to a halt before your desk. With a contemptuous look to Rosie, he pushed her to the side, and ignoring her angry hiss announced proudly, “Y/N, this is Mildred Ratched, our new head nurse.”

You stared at her. The world around you vanished. It was as if someone had shone a spotlight on her, the rest of the room going dark as the audience held their breath. You were suddenly too hot, the air in your lungs was burning gas and it hurt – but Mildred’s face stayed perfectly composed.  

She gave you a polite smile and extended one hand to you as if nothing terrible was happening, as if you and her were meeting for the very first time and the only thought crossing your mind, as it had two years ago, simply was, What a beautiful woman.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Mildred said, red lips curling up into a smile.

You knew that smile. It was the smile that reached her eyes but was fake and cold and meant to signify, I know what I’m doing. I’ve got this. There’s nothing you can do but submit.

You shook her hand. Mildred saw the way your arm trembled when you drew it back and pressed it against your chest.

“I’m giving Miss Ratched a tour of the clinic,” James was saying, with a note of pride in his voice. “She’s been very impressed by our equipments.”

“Yes,” Mildred answered, gaze boring into you. “The place where I used to work certainly didn’t enjoy such modern facilities.”

Your brain took over. It really was the only way you could survive this moment. You swallowed and locked up your heart and let coolness and calm seep through you.

“The place where you used to work?” you asked. You congratulated yourself on how neutral your voice sounded.

Mildred’s brow pushed up slightly, for she knew exactly what you were doing. She knew you. And despite your best efforts, you felt heat creep up your cheeks, heat creep up your ears, heat everywhere it was too damn hot.

But you would be damned, you told yourself, you would be damned before you averted your gaze from hers.

“Oh, it was a small place,” Mildred answered – and was her smile turning a little cruel? “You wouldn’t know it,” she added, and just like that, with her smile lingering on her lips, she turned from you and gestured for James to lead the way.

You stared at her back as she walked off, gait as decisive as you remembered it to be, but with that nervousness to it, as if she were constantly running from something. Do you only know where you’re headed?, you had asked her once – and she had gazed at you thoughtfully as she’d blown out cigarette smoke, and hadn’t answered.

“What was that all about?”

A door slammed shut, making you jump. Only know did you realize that your fists were tightly clenched, and your lungs were burning from lack of oxygen. You forced yourself to take a deep breath.

“What was that all about?” Rosie asked.

You glanced at her. “Don’t you have something to do?” you snapped.

**

Mildred and you. The story was a simple one.

She had been a nurse at the local state hospital, you had been a professional writer; you had met at a coffee shop, where you would both spend your Saturday afternoons. You had talked. You had laughed.

The sparkles in her eyes when she would talk about things she loved, things that made her happy, had caught your attention. So had her smiles, and her laughs, and every little thing she had said and pointed out.

You had ached. And then one day you had been bold enough, and leaned in to kiss her. And she, with a half-disgusted, half-shocked laugh, had pressed one hand to your chest to push you away – and in a voice that was only slightly shaking, had demanded what the hell you thought you were doing.

Turned out she had been hunting. For a young, happy woman, who would “fill the needs” of her brother, just recently got out of prison. You had gawped at her as she had explained the whole scheme to you, talking for all the world as if she were having a perfectly casual, perfectly normal conversation –

And then –

The anger and the disgust and the pain and the betrayal. You had stormed out of the coffee shop with the need to scream and to destroy something. To make someone bleed. To make someone pay for what you were feeling.

And the hatred – how you hated her. And yet, there had been signs, you had seen them – how she would bite her lower lip sometimes when she listened to you talk, how she would glance up at you, eyes a little darker and a little stormier and a little shy, how when she would reach out to cup your face in her hands, to comfort, to reassure, her touch would linger and her fingers would hold as if you were made of the most precious star matter in the universe – you couldn’t have been wrong. She had wanted you. You knew it. But she had been on a mission, and nothing could distract that kind of a woman from her goal.

To know you had been used, to know you had been seen as nothing more than a piece of meat to be fed to a hungry animal, made you feel dirty and disgusted with yourself. You couldn’t get rid of the feeling. So, with a desperate need to get rid of yourself, of the way you had been seen, you moved and got a new, different job – tried not to think of the reasons why you applied to a clinic of all places. You made yourself new, in a way.

And now – now your old self slammed back into you with a vengeance. It wouldn’t have been a problem, not really, had it come alone; but it was accompanied. It stood hand in hand with hope. And hope – hope was the worst.

The rest of the day passed quickly. You focused on your work, let your brain hold the wheel and did your best to ignore the thing, the thing that was warm and insistent and that you could feel growing in your chest, from making too much noise. It was adamant it would make itself known, though, and you were well aware it would only take a spark to set the fire roaring – and sure enough, at 5:30pm, as you were gathering your things and about to leave, the warmth started to burn – for Mildred, in her nurse uniform, walked up decidedly to your desk and, lips curled up, said, “Doesn’t your shift end at six?”

You clenched your teeth as you slowly looked up at her. “You’re not the boss of me,” you retorted, low and mean.

Mildred’s mouth twitched. “I would not be so sure of that.”

“I arrive earlier in the morning so I can leave earlier in the afternoon,” you snapped, louder this time.

She hadn’t changed a bit. She still looked exactly the same. You stared at her impeccable hairdo, at her collar, trying not to pay too much attention to the pale column of her neck; up, past her lips – a shudder, at the reminder of how they had felt against yours – to meet her eyes again, and catch a glint of amusement in them.

You cleared your throat, pretended the heat that flooded your face was fueled by anger, not embarrassment.

“So how’s your brother?” you taunted.

Mildred blinked. Her smile faded. She glanced over her shoulder, then leaned towards you and said, “Can we talk somewhere private?”

“Why?”

“I have things to say to you.”

“Things to say to me?” You snorted. Crossed your arms against your chest. “I don’t care what you have to say. I’m going home. Move.”

She didn’t move. She stood resolutely planted in front of your desk, eyes boring into yours, so you picked up your bag and walked around her, bumping her shoulder to make a point.

She flinched, as she always did when you would touch her without warning. You felt her gaze burning the nape of your neck as you hurried off. It was all you could do not to run when you reached the door.  

**

“This woman isn’t trustworthy,” you told your boss the next morning.

He barely looked up from his paperwork. “Which woman?”

“Miss Ratched.” You pretended you felt nothing, pretended it was not like music, when you uttered her name. “You made a mistake hiring her.”

“Did I?”

“She doesn’t have the credentials for the post of head nurse.”

A glance at you, annoyed and distracted.

“Her credentials are excellent.”

“They’re fake,” you insisted, shaking your head. “Everything about this woman is fake. Believe me, you cannot trust –“

“Miss Y/L/N,” he interrupted with a sigh, “if you do not have proof for these allegations then you’re only making me lose my time.”

You sat at the front desk in a bad mood. Patients glared at you when you answered their questions too shortly, and you glared right back at them until they lowered their gaze. Every time you heard footsteps, every time you heard a voice, your heart would speed up and your head buzz and you would look up, half in fear, half in (but that was hard to admit and, at first, you denied it) hope, expecting to see Mildred. You didn’t, though. The hours passed by and the nervousness in you increased, but Mildred never once crossed the lobby. She wasn’t in the break room at lunch; a nurse told you she had gone out to a restaurant with a friend.

At 5:30pm you left in an even worse mood. You told yourself it was because you hadn’t had the opportunity to be mean to Mildred, to take out on her some of your resentment and anger. There was no other possible reason, and if there was, it certainly was not that you were disappointed you hadn’t had the opportunity to at least steal a glance at her.  

At home that evening you tried to write, but the words had disappeared from your brain. You sat at your desk, eyes glazed, fingers unmoving. There was something in your chest that was made of emptiness and yet weighted heavy near your heart.

As you lay in bed you tried to summon bright images in the dark, the brightest you could create, red sunsets and turquoise oceans, anything to outshine the image of Mildred. You tossed and groaned and got too hot. In the corner of your room it seemed to you something was crouching, and looking up at you, and hoping.

In the morning you opened your window and stuck your head outside. The air still carried the chill of winter and made you shiver. But your blood was boiling. It was boiling still when you got into your car, boiling when you settled at the front desk and turned on your computer.

You decided it was boiling out of anger.

And yet – did anger make one’s heart beat so very fast at the mere sound of heels on tiles?

You told yourself it did.

It wasn’t until your lunch break that you saw Mildred. As usual, you gulped down your lunch to have time to write; and you were just starting when the door opened, and without so much as an introduction Mildred walked in and stopped right in front of you.

You looked up from your work.

“What do you want?” you growled.

Mildred gave you a pacifying smile.

“Good afternoon,” she started, lacing her fingers together in front of her. “As I said the other day, I merely want to talk.”

You snorted, and pretended to focus on your writing. But just as last night, words fled from your brain. Mildred’s presence was taking all the room inside your head, filling it with her scent and her colours, her voice, the shapes of her body. Your heart was beating too fast, your pen was frozen on the piece of paper, and out of the corner of your eye the blue from Mildred’s uniform was too bright, it was too flashy, it drew all of your attention.

After a few, long seconds of tense silence, you dropped your pen on the table and almost barked, “Fine, go ahead, talk.” You met Mildred’s eyes and tried to scowl, tried to convey to her the vehemence of your anger. “Say what you have to say and then get out and don’t talk to me ever again.”

“You’re quite overreacting, wouldn’t you say?”

“You’ve got some nerves, wouldn’t you say?”

More silence, as you both stared at each other. Mildred’s gaze wasn’t cruel or angry, you noticed; if anything, she looked nervous.

“Since you want us so badly to speak,” you said before she had time to, “answer this question: what would have happened, if I hadn’t tried to kiss you?” You waited, but since she didn’t answer, merely kept on looking at you with one hand sliding up her other arm to hug herself, you went on, “What would have happened, uh? You would’ve dropped a sleeping pill in my drink, kidnapped me, locked me up somewhere for your brother to do to me whatever he wanted?”

Mildred let out a short, offended laugh. “Don’t be so crude.”

There was yet another pause, during which she looked at you, nervously, and you looked at her, angrily; and then, entirely of its own, your gaze flicked to her mouth, and she noticed it, and her eyes widened a little.

You looked away and cleared your throat, praying – praying! – that the heat you could feel everywhere didn’t show in your face.

“I would merely have introduced you to Edmund,” Mildred answered eventually.

You met her eyes again. “I don’t believe you,” you growled. A pause. “Why did you wait so long?”

“I needed to make sure you were the right one for him.”

“And how many women,” you went on, slowly standing up and slamming your fist on the table,” did you try out before me?”

Mildred’s eyes darted to your hand as it hit the table. She jumped slightly, fear widening her eyes, and for a moment regret washed part of your anger away. You took a step towards her with the intention to reassure, no longer to fight.

You caught yourself, though. You stopped, and folded your arms on your chest.

“Answer me,” you growled.

“You were the first,” Mildred said, voice a bit tight. She hesitated, stroked her arm with her thumb. “I had no idea you were the kind of woman who doesn’t like the company of men.”

You laughed mirthlessly. “And you think that excuses everything?”

“It must have made it more unpleasant.”

“Any woman would know how fucked up it was,” you growled. “Except you, clearly.”

Silence settled between you two. Mildred’s thumb was still stroking her arm nervously, and you found yourself staring at it, as if drawn by the repetitive movement.

“I apologize for what I did,” Mildred said after a few moments.

Your eyes flicked back to her face. “Do you really? Do you really mean it? Or is it another lie, meant to coax me?”

“I do mean it,” Mildred replied.

“Then prove it.”

Something like annoyance flicked across Mildred’s features; but then, as quickly as it had come, it faded, and the nervousness settled back.

“How?” she asked.

You took another step towards her, meaning to invade her space, just a little, just to show her you had the upper hand. An idea flashed in your brain, but you couldn’t quite see its contours through the mist of boiling anger, so when you voiced it, it was without fully knowing what the words would be.

“Let me make sure you’re the right one for me.”

You paused. You decided you rather liked these words.

Mildred’s mouth opened, closed again. She titled her head, eyes narrowing.

You took another step forward.

“Let me,” you breathed, extending one hand to brush invisible dust from her sleeve, “try you out and decide whether I want you for myself.”

Mildred held your gaze with a stubborn, challenging – amused? – kind of fierceness, and you noticed how she had started breathing through her mouth, how her cheeks were coloring, not with embarrassment, but with excitement it seemed; like a champion in the starting blocks, adrenaline racing through her veins.

Something was drumming in your ears. Certainly it was your heart, but maybe it was something else - and this time you couldn’t fool yourself into thinking it was anger. Anger never drummed, anger thundered. Desire – longing – had its own particular kind of music.

You wondered, vaguely, if Mildred could hear it too.

She blinked. The fierceness in her gaze faded. She looked away, the black in her eyes turning sad and shy, then looked up again, hopeful this time, and you couldn’t help but marvel at the mirror that was her gaze, always reflecting, always revealing.

“Alright,” she said.

Your lips twitched into a smirk.

And then, just when you thought you had won, she smiled that victorious smile of hers that reached her eyes but was always cold, except this time it was warm, and there was mischief shining under it like a child up to no good.

“You have 24 hours, not a minute more,” she said, playful, almost singing. “Make the best of them.”

And then, and then - she lifted one hand, brushed the back of her fingers down your cheek, to mock your previous touch and remind you who was in control. Her cold skin made you shiver and instantly ache for more; and you would have leaned in and crashed your mouth against hers had you not regained control of yourself at the last second.

She left you with a glance over her shoulder as if to dare you to follow her. She left you standing burning and aching, trying to process what had happened.

You collapsed on your chair, because this all meant, dear you this all meant – that you had been right? That she was interested in you?

You raised a hand to your chest as if that could help slow down your heart. You did not know what you should be feeling. There were too many emotions, and which one was supposed to be right? You needed someone, a guide, to point out and say, This. This is the proper emotion to feel.

You spent the rest of the day in a state of overwhelming nervousness. Every minute you expected Mildred to appear with a cup of coffee or a bouquet of flowers for you. Nothing happened. The afternoon went by as usual. Rosie stopped at your desk for a chat. An old man threw up in the lobby and the cleaning lady cursed.

When the clock reached 4pm, you almost got up and stormed into Mildred’s office to demand what she was doing. Why the hell wasn’t she trying to win your heart? Why wasn’t she being excessively nice, voice dripping with honey, wide eyes begging?

You couldn’t believe the nerves of this woman, and you were fuming, until you saw her crossing the lobby with a young nurse in tow, and she glanced your way, and smiled. And her eyes weren’t wide, they weren’t begging, but they were nice, and they reflected the genuine good intention of her smile.

This is when you realized. There would be no excessive attentions or sweet little lies to flatter. She was aiming for the exact opposite of what you had run away from. Honesty. Being herself.

A little while later she walked up to your desk with a bunch of reproaches because you had messed up with a few patients’ schedules. Her tone was firm, her gaze hard. Brief apologies dropped from your mouth before you had time to think them. You eyed her curiously as she walked away, and kept on gazing at her long after she had disappeared. Then you cleared your throat, and willed yourself to focus on your work again.

When you saw her again, you were making ready to leave. She had changed into a long, forest green pleated skirt and a creamy white blouse with cuffed sleeves. You eyed her up and down as she came close to you, which made a small smug smile tug at the corner of her lips. You prayed all the gods the heat in your cheeks didn’t paint itself pink, and pretended you were busy with your handbag.

“Dinner?” Mildred asked simply. “I know a place.”

The place in question was a small, cozy and fashionable restaurant with a menu of fancy dishes that made your eyes widen. Mildred asked for a table on the terrace, in the setting sun; the waiter pulled out a chair for her with a respectful bow of his head, and for you with merely a nod.

You said something about the sunset, about how glad you were the weather was getting warmer, how dearly you loved the spring; you pointed out flowers. Mildred lit up a cigarette and listened to you speak, her gaze kind and attentive, and it struck you how easily you two were falling back into your old routine. How peaceful it was, how natural it felt to just sit there with her as the sun yawned and stretched, as cigarette smoke and laughter curled lazily up towards the sky.

Mildred folded her napkin and set it neatly on her lap. You glanced at her as you pretended to muse over the menu; and when Mildred’s gaze met yours, an awkward laugh burst out of your mouth and danced in Mildred’s eyes.

“I honestly do not know…” you started.

“Try this,” she smiled, tapping a finger on the menu.

“I do not trust anything with asparaguses in it.”

“Trust me, then,” Mildred retorted with a laugh.

The laugh died prematurely as your face hardened. Mildred swallowed, glanced down at the menu, looked up again to meet your eyes.

“I’ll have it myself,” she said in a slightly subdued voice. “So you’ll know what you’re missing out.”

You hummed, and took a sip of your drink to swallow the lump in your throat.

Dinner passed in easy, casual conversation. Sometimes, after you had said some random thing, Mildred would smile a shy, fond smile at an object on the table or at something around her, like sharing a secret with herself. You didn’t notice the waiter when he came back. Mildred let you steal a forkful of her meal, and laughed victoriously when your eyes widened at the rich taste that filled your mouth.

For dessert you both ordered rose and lemon Turkish delights, and fell in a comfortable silence. You watched Mildred and she watched you. At one point she ran the tip of her tongue over her lower lip to lick off powdered sugar. You felt yourself blush. Mildred noticed, smiled a little smugly; when your eyes met again, hers flicked down to her glass, and her smile turned shy.

“You never answered my question,” you said.

“Which question?” Mildred smiled at her glass.  

“How is your brother doing?”

There was cruelty in your words, but you thought you were entitled to some of it. The sun had set by now, the moon and the stars were not out yet: there was no witness.

Mildred’s smile faded. She looked up at you, a little reproachfully.

“He’s doing fine,” she said after a short while, in the voice she used at work with the other nurses. “Better than I thought he would. He found a job taking care of animals at the local shelter. It makes him happy.” A pause. A soft, dreamy smile to the tree on your left. “The animals help ease his mind. They give him purpose. He says he likes caring for innocent souls, that they would never hurt anybody, not because they can help themselves, but because the very idea would never even cross their minds.”

“That’s nice, but I was referring to his love life.”

She searched your eyes. “Nothing much to say about that.”

“So you didn’t find him the perfect spouse?” you asked with a mirthless laugh. “What happened? Set the bar too high?”

A gust of wind tangled in your hair, like a reproach from the universe, but you chose to ignore it. You brushed the strands of hair from your face and scowled at Mildred, awaiting – demanding – an answer.

Someone turned on the overhead lights, which threw a sudden bright, yellow glare on Mildred’s face and chased all the shadows.

“I stopped searching after you,” Mildred replied.

You snorted. There was a need to be cruel that was growing inside you and that was too loud, too outraged to be ignored. It was a military leader, and it had at its command an army led by Resentment, Pain, Anger and Revenge.

“What happened?” you mocked. “Got tired so quickly? Got so disappointed in me you thought it wouldn’t be worth your time?”

Mildred refused to take the bait. She stayed completely calm, face impassible and gaze bold, but soft. Her behavior made Anger give a low war cry and charge.

“The truth is,” Mildred said, and she leaned over the table towards you, and smiled and with her smile was swept away the impassiveness on her face to let a loving intensity shine, “just before you left I had made up my mind to keep you for myself.”

You clenched your fist. “Then why the fuck,” you hissed, “did you push me away?”

“I didn’t! All I did was inform you what my plans had been, for the sake of honesty –”

“For the sake of honesty?” you repeated. “Are you kidding me?”

“But then you ran away,” Mildred finished. Had there been the slightest note of reproach in her voice, you would’ve jumped to your feet and broken something.

“As if you cared,” you growled.

“I tried looking for you,” Mildred said.

She paused. There was a nervous twitch to her mouth that, in the absence of shadows, you saw.

“I don’t believe you,” you growled.

“But you disappeared. You moved, didn’t you? You changed your job, you disappeared so completely and I –”

“Bullshit.”

“– and I tried to find you, but there was my job, and there was Edmund, and I couldn’t give up on him when he –“

“So you gave up on me instead.”

Mildred cut herself short. Silence hung heavy as she struggled, weighed up ugly truth against beautiful lies, until she said in a breath, “Yes.”

A sense of victory washed over you, but it felt sick, unsatisfying, and you wondered whether defeat wouldn’t have been better.

For a long moment none of you spoke. Then you realized in your anger you had leaned towards her, too, and your faces were only a few inches apart.

Mildred’s eyes flicked to your lips. You stopped breathing. You were so mad, you swore if she tried to kiss you right now you would flip the table, rip off the lights, break your chair. She had no right to ask to come back in your life, not after what she had done, and you were so mad, and definitely not leaning in and your lips were not parting as if to taste the air she exhaled –

Mildred raised her hands to cup your face. Her touch was like thunder, except you were not a tree but the sky; you had not been hit and burnt, but sublimated and illuminated.

You flinched, and sat back in your chair.

“So?” you asked, folding your arms on your chest. You couldn’t quite meet Mildred’s eyes. Your face was burning.

Mildred raised her eyebrows questioningly.

“So what happens now? What’s your plan now that you’ve found me?”

Mildred smiled. “That,” she answered, “is entirely up to you.”

Was this a blatant lie? You stared at her, forcing yourself to silence the fresh burst of anger her words triggered in you. For if there was one thing you were quite sure of, it was that Mildred Ratched never relented. When she sank her fangs into a prey, she never let go. She would forever be just a few inches behind you, the shadow gliding on your walls day and night, the fingers brushing your shoulders and making you jump.

“So tell me,” Mildred asked after a short while, “do you like what you see?”

You almost said no. Just to tempt her, just because you could and being cruel was so easy and felt so good. You almost said you would disappear again and change your name so she could never find you. Because deep down you knew that if you really, really tried, you would forget her. Only be reminded of her face once in a while in the middle of a crowd or in a poem.

But did you want that?

You pursed your lips to hold back the word “no”. Mildred would have looked confident enough had it not been for the flicker of nervousness in her eyes. They were so dark, her eyes, they sometimes reminded you of a big cat, crouching in tall grass, silent, body taut, ready to jump on its prey.

She had jumped. And you had run away. But now she was jumping again, and this time, you had seen her coming. And you let her claws sink into your flesh.

You shifted on your seat with a low noise of anger at yourself, glanced up at her and blurted out moodily, “Yes.”

Victory shone in Mildred’s eyes. A smile danced across her lips. She leaned towards you, hands coming up to rest on the table with her nails digging into the wood, her gaze so intense, so wild, and when her lips parted to say something you slipped one hand around her right wrist, pushed back your chair so you could lean across the table, and kissed her.

It was a quick, angry kiss, pulling away before it really had time to start. Mildred blinked in surprise. You scowled at her, your mouth a tight, angry line. Your hand clutched her wrist to prevent her from moving.

“Yes,” you repeated.

A smile. Soft, nervous, hopeful.

“Am I forgiven?” she asked.

“No,” you growled, eyes riveted to her lips. “You’ll have to make it up to me, times and times again.”

Mildred’s lips curled up.

“Oh,” she breathed, “I can live with that.”

[andromedasstarship]

in the stars - chapter 5

pairing - aaron hotchner x reader 

warnings - canon-typical criminal minds violence, stalking, unhealthy coping mechanisms, drinking, angst

summary -  “Please,” he said, staring you straight in the eyes. “Don’t go.” 

a/n - i really love this chapter! cant wait to hear what yall think :DD also for reference i aged jack down just a year so hes 3 when haley passes away, about to turn 5 when reader & aaron get together. i dont claim any dialogue straight from Emma as mine! (emma dialogue is in italics) 

masterlist / series masterlist / read it on ao3 

chapter 4 / chapter 6 

-----

You were hyper-aware of the new way the team was looking at you as you entered the conference room. You shot a very anxious glance up towards Aaron, grateful for the very brief- but soft- glance he gave you before the business side of him took over again. You could feel the ghost of his hand hovering over that protective spot on your back again as he led you up towards the table. 

It felt like your eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets, upon seeing the seemingly endless piles of photos in front of you. Your brain was struggling to process everything that was laid out in front of you and you felt your heart rate start to pick up; seeing it in person was worse than anything your mind had created in the drive here. 

“Y/N.” 

Your eyes shot up to meet the voice and you saw Spencer looking down at you with a look that was just on the edge of pity. “We tried to sort the pictures into piles of time relativity. Would you be able to go through them and help us create a firmer timeline?” 

You nodded at that, vaguely aware of Aaron pulling a chair out behind you. You gladly slid down into it. Seeing Emily start to pick up one pile and push them towards you made you nervously laugh, the stress of the moment and how uncomfortable you felt forcing it out. When the entire team gave you a weird look you said, “Sorry, it just reminded me of last time.” 

You gently picked up the stack of photos, trying to hold them as lightly as possible. The knowledge that the unsub had packaged these himself sent a shiver down your spine. You knew it was silly, but you somehow felt that by touching the photos you were somehow also touching the remnants of the unsub. 

The first stack you easily dated as around four years ago, just from your hair; you’d drastically changed it for a role. You thumbed through the photos and could feel the knots in your stomach growing even tighter. Most of the photos were blurry and relatively distant from you, as if the unsub was still getting comfortable with what he was doing. 

“This was four years ago, I had to change my hair for a role and I’ve never had it like that before or again.” You said quietly, pushing the pile back to Emily. 

She nodded, giving you a gracious smile before pushing the next pile towards you. Your face fell immediately; something the team equated to how much more personal these set of photos seemed to be. You fanned the stack out in front of you. There weren’t many, as if even the unsub could recognize the inappropriate- ha!- nature of capturing you like this. In all of them you looked worn down, as if a cloud was following you everywhere you went. 

“This was about two years ago.” You said flatly. It took a moment, but you could see everyone connect the dots in their head and suddenly the room felt very small. 

Thankfully, the next pile was rather average and you guessed that this was just an ‘extra’ pile of photos that didn’t really seem to fit into a cohesive timeframe. As you scanned over them, one caught your eye and you pulled it a bit closer to you. You pointed a finger at the sign behind you. 

“This is an exclusive club house, it’s difficult to get into. Security’s intense and everyone that enters has to sign in.” You informed the team. JJ reached out and grabbed the photo, putting it to the side for later.

You turned your attention back to the pile, making sure to give each photo a proper amount of attention, desperate to notice something useful. 

“This one,” you said, pulling a blurry photo of yourself out of the pile. You were moving too fast for the camera to properly capture you, but you recognized the outfit. “I was wearing this the day Officer Reynolds told me you all were coming, isn’t this the outside of the station?” You said quietly.

JJ moved that photo to the ‘save for later’ pile as well. You gently re-stacked the pile and passed it towards Emily, waiting for the next one. 

You watched as Emily seemed to be literally holding her tongue as she pushed the next pile towards you, a certain playful glint in her eyes. Once you were able to look at it, you couldn’t help but snort. You could feel Aaron tense up besides you, but you could find the humor in it. The ‘Aaron’ pile. 

You fanned the stack out like you had done with the others, giving special attention to the details behind you. These were much more difficult to place and a much smaller pile, considering how careful the two of you had been. 

“These must’ve been in DC?” You questioned, not really expecting an answer. You looked up towards Aaron, raising an eyebrow as if to give him the opportunity to share his thoughts. “Whenever he came to LA, I had an iron grip on our security but it was a whole different field in DC-” 

Your sentence fell flat as your eyes went wide, nearly surging out of your seat up towards Aaron. He gave you a worried look, unable to place the sudden anxiety that had taken over you. “What about Jack?” You asked worriedly, “if he knows about you he must’ve found out about Ja-”

Aaron stopped you, putting a very gentle hand on the top of your shoulder, “He’s okay, I promise.” He said, using his hand to lightly push you back into a seated position. You nodded at that, eyes still wide, but your body seemed to deflate, the tension slowly leaving you. 

The rest of the team was quiet, recognizing the personal nature of the interaction. But it was impossible for them not to notice the way your bodies reacted to each other. The way your body’s natural response to a stressor had been to move closer to him and the way he angled himself in a protective stance around you near simultaneously. 

Emily pushed the final pile in front of you and you couldn’t help the corners of your lips pull up in a soft smile. You fanned out the stack of photos, taking a good look at all of them. They all seemed to either be promo photos or film photos of your time filming Mamma Mia in Greece. 

“This is definitely from Greece. But some of these are definitely promo photos, it’s why I’m ‘posing’ in a few of them.” You said, pushing out one that visually made your point. 

“What about this one? It feels a lot more intimate than a promotional piece.” Emily asked, pulling one out from the stack. In it, you were standing on the dock, face close to the camera. You had a big smile on your face and your thumbs up. 

“On set, we had a handful of little disposable cameras that everyone could use.” 

“Do you have any memory of who owned the cameras?” 

“I…,” you paused, eyebrows scrunched tightly in thought, “I don’t know. The studio distributed all the photos after the movie came out. They’re pretty public at this point, it was five years ago.” You said weakly, feeling really disappointed in your lack of help. “I’m sorry.” You added. 

Morgan stepped up closer to the table. “Don’t be okay? Now we know that the unsub has connections in Hollywood and we know he must be wealthy enough to fly to DC on a whim if he thought you were there. That helps narrow things down.” He assured you. 

“Are there any specific photographers that you’ve noticed? Or any guy you feel like you’ve seen too many times and it’s no longer a coincidence?” Spencer asked. 

You shook your head quickly. “I’m really used to cameras flashing in my face.” You said impishly. “I can remember a lot of fans that I meet, but if it’s just someone behind a camera I don’t think I’d really notice it at all.” 

You felt Aaron move away from you and towards the computer at the end of the table. He clicked a few buttons and suddenly a woman's face popped up on the screen. You recognized her immediately from all the stories and photos you’d seen. Penelope. 

Aaron brought the computer closer to where you were and her mouth dropped open for the second time today. 

“Oh my god! Hi! Wow! I am, I am such a fan. I just-, you’re always so-” 

“Garcia.” Aaron interjected but you raised your hand at him, giving him a ‘shoo’ gesture. The rest of the team had to stifle their laughter. 

“Hi, Penelope right? I’ve heard so much about you.” You said sweetly, leaning a bit closer to the camera. 

“Wow! Okay, I can’t believe this is-” 

“Garcia, I need you to pull up visitor logs from a clubhouse that Y/N used to visit. I want you to cross reference it with other visitor logs of recent film sets she’s been on and her housing development. She’ll be able to give you a more comprehensive list.” Aaron interjected, and this time you let him. 

You turned back to the screen, giving Garcia another smile. “The clubhouse is called Royal Blue, the picture couldn’t have been more than…, I think three years ago? But I’m not sure.” 

“Alright…, okay the visitor logs seem to be locked tight, but never too tight for me. What are some of those movie sets?” 

“The earliest photo is what? Five years ago?” You asked, looking around at the agents for approval. “Yeah, five years. So Mamma Mia, to start, Little Women. I’m working on Emma right now.” You droned, listing various movie sets you’d worked on in the past five years. 

“Oh my god! I have so many questions about Mamma Mia. Like what was it-,�� Garcia’s question trailed off as she caught sight of Hotch giving her a firm stare from behind you. “Right sorry, alright. I will break into the clubhouse and cross reference all of these lists to see if anyone comes up more than once. It was so nice meeting you, I hope we get to-. Alright, hanging up now!” Garcia said in a rushed voice. You watched her click a button on her end and the screen went black. 

You leaned back into your chair, staring up at the rest of the team . “So…,” you said, drawing out the word, “what now?” 

-----

“What are you doing?” Aaron’s asked, voice coming out from behind you. 

You comically froze, hand just short of picking your keys up from the table. You slowly turned to face him, straightening your tote bag over your shoulder. “Oh! There you are, I was just on my way to come find you.” You said lightly, trying to diffuse some of the tension in the room. Aaron didn’t say anything, waiting for you to go on. “Johnny and I have plans tonight.” You said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world  

On your part, you’d already forgotten about the whole ‘I’m on a date’ aspect on your earlier phone call with Aaron. In your mind, there wasn’t anything inherently suspicious about you going to spend time with him in the evening.

Aaron was viewing the entire situation in a very different light. When he had first come around the corner, he noticed how nice you looked. When the two of you had finally returned to your place you immediately went up to your room, disappearing for quite some time. He had originally thought maybe you were upset, the cognitive interview hadn’t revealed anything and even though he knew you didn’t really believe in their accuracy, he also knew how badly you wanted to be of ‘use’ for the case. 

In your time upstairs, you had changed your outfit and styled your hair just enough to give it that ‘unstyled-styled’ look. It’s not like you were glammed out or anything, the only reason you’d put on a nice outfit was on the off chance you were photographed- hopefully not by the unsub-, on your way into Johnny’s apartment. 

“And what is it that you’re supposed to be doing?” Aaron asked, trying to keep his voice as nonchalant as possible. 

“Um, nothing much,” You said with an awkward laugh, when he was still looking at you expectantly you tilted your head. “I’m supposed to go to his place and we’re gonna run lines for the scenes we’re filming this week.” You explained. 

“I can’t endorse you going out at night. Especially to someone’s home that we don’t have eyes on.” Aaron said firmly. 

You rolled your eyes at that, picking up your keys. “Johnny’s fine, he’s been in the same place as me when nearly all the bodies were discovered.” You argued, putting one hand on your hip. 

“With the recent development in the cases, I can’t let you do this.”

You started to walk towards him, intending to go around him. “Aaron-” 

His hand shot out and gently grabbed you by the arm, stopping you from getting past him. 

“Hey!-” 

“Please,” he said, staring you straight in the eyes. “Don’t go.” 

Your mouth fell open slightly in a mild form of shock. ‘We’re just running lines, I really need-” 

“I’ll do it with you.” Aaron interjected hurriedly. “We’ve done it before, I’m not too bad at it, huh?” He said teasingly. 

You pondered that for a minute. You and Aaron had run lines together plenty of times in the past, it was always something you got a kick out of, seeing Aaron try and morph into whatever character he was reading for. And while it wouldn’t be as productive as running them with your actual co-star, you reasoned it’d still be good enough. And as much as you hated to admit it, Aaron probably had a point about you not going out, especially in the evening.  

“Fine. I just need to go call Johnny and tell him something came up.” You huffed, pretending to be more annoyed than you were. 

“Here,” you said, reaching into your bag and pulling out your script, “I already have most of my lines memorized, I’ll just need you to fill in if I miss any. I have a pink sticky note denoting the scene we were going to start with. You’re reading as Knightely. I’ll meet you in the living room, alright?” You said, pushing the script into his hands as you walked around him towards the kitchen, pulling your phone out at the same time. 

----

“No, I’m just saying I think it’d be more believable or whatever if we did a few more like nonchalant meals before like, running errands together or something, ya know?” You said lazily into the phone, holding it between your ear and shoulder as you used your hands to mix up a drink for yourself. Out of the corner of your eye you caught sight of the Dalmore. You reached out with one hand and carefully pulled it down, still remembering exactly how Aaron liked to take a drink. 

“What meal really screams ‘we’re dating’? Dinner? That’s like the longest meal of the day, that’s gotta show some sort of commitment.” Johnny asked. 

“Hm…,” you droned, “well we just had a lunch. If we want to kick it into high gear, we should do breakfast. Perfect ‘just spent the night’ remedy.” You said with a snort. 

Aaron cleared his throat behind you and the sound made you jump. You pulled the phone away from your ear and saw you’d been blabbering for nearly half an hour. 

‘Oh. Sorry.’ You mouthed to Aaron, before pulling the phone back to your ear. “Hey Johnny gotta go, but we’ll figure it out later! Yeah…, for sure, bye!” You hung up and placed your phone on the counter. Then you grabbed the drink you had poured for him, holding it out. 

“It’s Dalmore.” You said plainly. 

“I’m working.” He responded. 

You rolled your eyes at that and held it out more aggressively. “Take it.” 

You watched happily as he begrudgingly took it out of your hand, though you knew it wasn’t too difficult for him. You picked up your own glass and tucked your phone into the waistband of your pants. “Ready? Sorry, got carried away.” 

While the two of you walked back into your living room, it was obvious something was bothering Aaron. You briefly wondered if something had developed in the case that he wasn’t telling you. 

‘What is it?” You asked. 

He looked down at you, confused. “What is what?” 

“Don’t play dumb, you have a tell.”  You explained, stopping to look up at him.  

“I do not have a tell.” Hotch replied annoyedly. 

“Yes you do.” 

“No, I don’t.” 

“If you want to be a baby about it, fine you don’t have a tell. Tell me what’s wrong anyway.” 

“I’m trying to understand why you lied about not having a boyfriend nor seeing anyone recently. We’ll need to fully vet Johnny and look into his files, even if you don’t see it becoming serious.” Aaron near spat.

You snorted. “What do you mean lied?” 

“You very clearly told me you weren’t seeing anyone, yet today has proven those claims to be false.” 

“I know that sometimes, I like to be a huge pain but I’m serious, what are you talking about? I’m not seeing anyone.” 

“Your co-star, Johnny? You told me you were on a date with him today. I just heard you on the phone make plans to stay with him overnight. I saw the pictures of-” 

“Stop! Oh my god, I can’t believe you actually believed that.” You said, unable to hold back the laughter that bubbled out of you. 

“Believed it? You’re the only who told me!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have assumed you read through the lines. Johnny and I have been going on publicity dates. We’re just friends.” 

“What were you supposed to be doing tonight then?” 

“We were legitimately going to run lines. Maybe get ice cream, we’re trying to determine the best ice cream in LA.” 

That’d explain the outfit, Aaron thought. 

“And the phone call I just heard?” 

“We were debating which meal screams ‘dating’. He thinks it’s dinner. I think it’s breakfast, ya know, cause it implies you spent the night.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me that, before.” 

“Don’t you remember when I had kinda the same thing with Timothee during Little Women? They made us hang out a bunch so the tabloids could just do their thing. I just assumed you’d fill in the blanks.” 

Aaron was staring at you as if you had two heads. It was almost like you could see the gears turning in that head of his. Internally, he was more than embarrassed for how upset he’d gotten over the idea of you with someone else. 

When it seemed that Aaron had nothing else to say, you started to walk again, not stopping until you were both back in your living room. You plopped down in ‘your spot’ on the couch, playfully patting the space a few cushions down that Aaron typically sat in. 

“Crack open that script, I hope you looked through it. If you’re making me stay home, you better be useful!” You said pleasantly, trying to change the atmosphere into something more playful. 

Aaron awkwardly sat himself down on the couch next to you, picking the script back up. As you watched him flip the script open and further acquaint himself with the lines you couldn’t help but feel a sharp pang in your chest. It was such an unavoidable reminder of the way the two of you used to run lines together when you were still dating. You had learned early on that Aaron best showed his affection through acts of service and he actually wasn’t that bad at delivering a line. Since the two of you were rarely together in person- it’s not like you’d let him waste a visit with you building a shelf or running an errand-, running lines with you was the easiest way for him to feel useful. 

-----

Four Years Ago

“Okay Jack, you ready?” You asked, smiling down at the young boy standing across from you. He was dressed up in his winter clothes, despite the blazing heat of the summer. You and Aaron had tried to talk him out of it, but he demanded it’d be the only way for him to fully get into character. And who were you two to deny him? The sweet boy nodded, barely being able to contain his excitement as he bounced up and down on his feet. 

“Alright, places everyone!” You yelled out, holding the diy paper clapperboard Jack had made for you. You held it out from your body and did a very exaggerated clapping motion. “Action!” You said, quickly throwing the clapperboard to the couch. 

“Carrots!” Jack said, his voice more than enthusiastic for the role. 

“Huh?” You said, heavily overselling your voice and reaction. Even with the one simple word, Jack was already in giggles, struggling to keep it together. 

He leaned in closer to you, standing up on his tiptoes. “Behind you!” 

“Oh! Right, excuse me.” You said, stepping to the side and gesturing to the ‘carrots’ behind you. 

You made your voice really low to play the next part. “Woh, a real howler in July, yea? Where ever could it be coming from?” You asked, placing your chin in between your thumb and pointer finger. 

Jack kept giggling at your ‘deep’ voice, he held his ‘script’ up to his face to read his next line. “The North Mountain.” 

You jokingly ran a hand in front of your face, signaling a character switch. “North Mountain.” You stage whispered. You ran your hand in front of your face again, going serious. “That’ll be forty.” You said, holding your hand out with a ‘gimme’ gesture. 

Jack smacked your hand gently to ‘give you’ the money. But after his face fell ever so slightly. “Can we skip to when Daddy gets to come in??” He asked, giving you those big eyes you couldn’t possibly say no to. 

You stood back, putting your weight on your back leg with one hand on your hip. “Hmm.., I think that could be arranged.” You reached over to grab the clapperboard. “Alright everyone! Back to places, but let’s start at ‘Hi everyone’, okay?” 

Jack nodded excitingly and turned back to where he knew Aaron was standing, partially hidden by the hallway. “Places daddy!” He urged, pointing to where he should come stand. 

Aaron came out from around the corner and you quickly covered your mouth with your hand, trying to hold in the laughter. Aaron had a big white hat on his head and had let Jack put a small orange dot on his nose. You and Jack had definitely double teamed poor Aaron, dragging him into your little ‘movie game’ as Jack liked to call it. The three of you had started doing this a few months ago, Jack loved ‘running lines’ with you and you were more than happy to oblige him. It had started when a sleepy Jack had stumbled into the living room one night when he couldn’t sleep and he saw you and Aaron running lines for one of your other movies. Jack had taken to it so much you ended up ‘hiring’ him to help you with your more child friendly roles. 

“Alright, alright. Quiet on set!” You said, making a big deal of you bringing your index finger up to your lips in a ‘shush’ motion. “Action!” 

“Hi everyone. I’m Olaf. And I like warm hugs.” Aaron recited robotically , very clear that he was reading directly from the paper. You smacked your hand back over your mouth, unable to control the giggles. Once you started laughing, Jack fell into his own fit of laughter; both of you fueled off the others amusement. 

Of course, when you finally pulled yourself back together, a quick look at the way Aaron was standing with fake annoyance across his face and his arms crossed tightly against his chest sent you back into fits of laughter. 

“Are you two done?” Aaron asked, no true malice in his voice. 

It was rare that the three of you all got to spend time together. He’d been wary of introducing you to Jack. It wasn’t really a ‘you’ thing, but it was more of how Jack would be able to deal with it. There were the typical worries, what if you and Jack didn’t get along? Or what if you two did get along really well but then you and Aaron broke up and it hurt him even further? While you never intended to try and replace his ‘mom’, you still worried that your chaotic schedule would somehow hurt him, skewing his perception of yet another ‘parental’ figure. Not to mention the issues with him being able to keep your identity and presence in his life a secret; he wouldn’t even be able to tell people like Uncle Rossi that his dad was seeing someone. 

But now, you’d been with Aaron for over two years. And Jack had known about you for about a year now. And everything had been going perfect. Jack was a stellar secret keeper, the unfortunate events of his childhood maturing him faster than any child deserved and he was able to fully understand the importance of the situation. The two of you had taken to each other quite quickly and every night the three of you would have a ‘bedtime’ call; even on the nights when Aaron was busy with a case you’d still call Jack on your own. You loved spoiling him with whatever hot new toy was popular among kids his age or getting him special early copies of movies before they came out. Aaron used to get on you about it, saying it wasn’t necessary, but you argued it was the most necessary thing in the world. 

And now here the three of you were. Nestled away in Aaron’s apartment in DC. You had just flown in after wrapping up a shoot abroad and were just in time for the start of summer. Even though your career was at a seemingly new high, you had managed to secure a relatively empty summer. After long consideration and planning you and Aaron decided it’d be a nice treat for Jack to go spend a month or so with you in LA. You’d consulted heavily with many of your friends who kept their children completely hidden from the spotlight and had hired an airtight security team to assist you the entire time. Aaron was supposed to come out when he could, but you were all aware of how turbulent his poor schedule could be. Schedule permitting, you all would spend the next three days at Aaron’s apartment before you and Jack took off. 

“Daddy! You sound like a robot.” Jack said, scolding Aaron. His voice brought you out of your thoughts and you looked down at him with a big smile. 

“Daddy’s just no good at this huh?” You asked, shaking your head. “He’s no match for our talent, Jack!” 

“This is really hot.” Jack said, holding up his arms. He must’ve been sweating his butt off in all those winter layers. 

“You’re kidding me! I wonder who could’ve seen that coming.” You said sarcastically, reaching over to pull off his big hat and zip down the first of multiple jackets he put on. “I’ve heard that ice cream cools you down…,” 

“Ice cream!’ Jack exclaimed, his eyes lighting up. He didn’t even look to his father for ‘permission’, knowing by now you had the most sway in the house. 

“Go put on some normal clothes okay? Wouldn’t be fun if you passed out in your ice cream bowl, huh?” You told him, ruffling his hair before he dipped under your arm, making a mad dash for his room. 

“He hasn’t even had lunch yet, you know that right?” Aaron asked, giving you a fake stern look as he walked over to where you were standing. 

You rolled your eyes at that, reaching up to snatch the white hat off his head, letting your arms fall loosely around his neck. “Does it upset you that I’m always the cool one?” You asked teasingly, reaching up on your tiptoes to press the gentlest kiss on his lips. 

He gave you one of his small smiles, reaching down to press a second kiss to your lips. “How was your flight in?” He asked, one of his hands wrapping protectively around your waist as the other one found its way by your hair, gently stroking down it the way you liked. 

You let your head relax against his touch and pretended to think for a moment. Instead of answering you reached up again, pressing your lips against his, pressing yourself closer to him. You both thought you could stay this way forever; it being the first time you saw each other, in person, in nearly two months. 

“Gross!” Jack’s voice seemingly cut through the two of you. Aaron was the one to pull away first, quietly laughing so only you could hear. 

“Later.” He promised in a whisper. 

You loosened your grip on him, turning to face Jack. “Oh Jack! Funny seeing you here, ice cream, right?” 

----- 

Present Day.

“Page 103, right?” He asked, skipping to the bright pink sticky note you had used as a place marker. 

You jolted out of your memories, feeling the heat rise up your neck as you prayed it wasn’t too obvious you had just completely zoned out. 

“Yep!” You squeaked out, “page 103, line 19, you start.” You said, waving your hands. 

“And I do envy him, Emma. In one respect he is the object of my enemy, you will not ask me why, you are, you are determined, I see, to have no curiosity but I cannot be wise-” He started, keeping his eyes near glued to the page. 

You frowned, shaking your head a bit. “Stand up.” You ordered, already getting to your feet. 

“Excuse me?” Aaron asked. 

“Stand up,” you repeated, motioning upwards with your palms. “This,” you said, motioning between the two of you, “doesn’t feel right if we’re seated, we’re supposed to move around in this scene, it’s supposed to be painful.” You explained. 

He slowly stood up, looking at you for permission to start again. 

“From where you left off, please.” 

“I must tell you, Emma, what you will not ask! Though I may wish it unsaid the next moment-” 

“So do not speak it.” You cut in. “If you wish to speak to me, as a friend or to ask my opinion as a friend I will hear whatever you like.”

“As a friend, Emma. That I fear is a word, tell me Emma. Have I no chance of ever succeeding?” He asked, looking up at you for further approval, you nodded and he continued. “My dearest Emma, my dearest, you will always be my dearest most beloved Emma, tell me at once. I cannot make speeches, if I, if I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more-” 

“Let’s do a different part, yeah?” You interrupted, voice incredibly tight. You ducked from his gaze, reaching to bring your glass to your lips. 

“Isn’t this the scene you have to practice?” Aaron asked, raising his brow at you. 

“It doesn’t matter,” you replied, taking a long sip, “any practice as the character will be helpful.” 

“If this is the one that’s troubling you, we should go over it.” He pressed. 

“Page 56, start at line 9.” You ordered, throwing back the rest of your glass. “Read it over, I’ll be back.” 

Before you could fully turn to go and refill your glass, Aaron lunged forward and grabbed your arm, pulling you towards him. The sudden movement caused you to stumble, throwing your hands out to steady yourself against his chest. 

“You’ve been drinking a lot.” He stated, repositioning his grip on your arm. 

“Am I not allowed to have a drink or two in my own home?” You challenged. 

“What are you running away from?” Aaron asked, his voice so gentle it made your knees weak. 

“You.” You whispered, after a long pause. You looked up at him with sad eyes and only found confusion in his. “I can’t, I-, don’t you see how funny it is? Your character is desperate for mine to be with and my character is the one to deny yours.” 

Your confession pulled sharply on his heart. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything, not sure there were any words to appropriately apologize for how he had treated you. 

“Why didn’t you ever call?” You asked, voice so quiet he almost didn’t hear you. 

“I, I-” He stuttered, unable to think of an answer fast enough. 

“I waited for weeks,” you said, looking up at him with a look that nearly brought him to his knees. “I waited so long and you never called.” 

He brushed the hair out of your face, letting his hand fall gently against your cheek. His thumb caught a stray tear that had started to fall, softly brushing it away. “I don’t know.” He responded, his voice as quiet as your. “I don’t know, you didn’t deserve that.” 

You pressed your face into his hand, closing your eyes as you felt more tears managing to sneak past you. He was finally admitting words you had dreamed of hearing for years, but yet you were unable to find any joy in them. 

“You didn’t deserve that.” He repeated, sliding his hand towards the back of your head, pulling you firmly against his chest, while his other arm wrapped tightly around your waist. You let your body relax into his, slowly bringing your own arms up loosely around his neck. 

You felt him gently press the faintest of kisses to the top of your head. “I’m so sorry angel.” He mumbled into your hair. 

You pulled your head out from under him, looking up at him with big eyes. The two of you were silent, basking in each other's presence. Your eyes flickered down to his lips multiple times; something he duly picked up on. Just as you began to push up on your toes, nearly pressing your lips to his, eyes half closed in anticipation, his phone rang out. 

You froze, falling back onto your heels with a small sigh. “Answer it, I’m getting a refill.” You said, pulling yourself out of his grasp. He gave you an uncertain look, as if he wanted to pull you back in and ignore the call completely. 

You wagged a finger in front of him, shaking your head. In on fluid movement, you grabbed your glass and nearly ran out of the room

-----

It took you ten minutes to calm yourself down and another five to hype yourself up to return to your living room. And that was after you had made yourself a new drink. 

When you entered the living room, Aaron’s back was to you; still locked on the phone. The tension was clear in his shoulders and your eyes drifted down to his free hand that you knew would be clenched in a fist. It was. 

“Thank you Garcia, tell the team we’ll be there soon.” He said, pulling the phone away from his ear and hanging up. 

“Aaron?” You asked. 

He rolled his shoulders back, trying to loosen some of the tension from his shoulders for your benefit. He slowly turned back towards you, his face pulled in frustration. 

“LAPD just reported another body.”

-------

taglist - @mac99martin @iwaizumiee @kylorendrip @hqtchner @lieswithoutfairytales​ @ssahoodrathotchner @midsummernightdream @weasleylovers @evans-dejong @itsmytimetoodream @yoshigguk @28cnn @cuddlyklaus @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @yallgotkik @sunflowersandotherthings @averyhotchner @kimmy-k-k @uwu-sebastianstan @ivebeenthinkingboutu​

a/n - if youve sent a message asking to be tagged and dont see yourself here, let me know!! im so bad at remembering to move names to my taglist form!! tysm for reading! <3 ​

no permission is given to copy or republish my writing on any other platform or account. if you see this story outside of my blog or my ao3 it is stolen work. i do not own nor claim to own criminal minds or any of the character involved in it.

[apiratewhopines]

Thanks to @teamhook for the updated artwork. She’s the only person I know who will provide a gift for her own gift 💝

Thanks to @motherkatereloyshipper for helping me pick Killian’s hometown in this story and for being an all around lovely person

Midnight

Chapter 2 — The Stroke

Summary: In which our heroine does what she does best

Chapter 2 of 7 on AO3

“And my imagination will feed my hungry heart,

Leave me one thing before we part”

-A Kiss to Build a Dream On, Louis Armstrong

The spot he was referring to was an out-of-the-way pub serving the greasiest onion rings in existence and a lively clientele that didn’t notice it was one o’clock in the morning and all decent people were in bed. After days of getting by on breakfast bars and the memory of what a full meal tasted like, Emma thought she had died and gone to heaven.

Melancholy tunes droned softly in the background as she demolished enough food to feed an army. The pretty waitress earned her respect when the woman didn’t even blink at her handsome companion, and she liked to think she earned it back when she ordered three of their daily specials without a trace of shame.

Ignoring the way Killian watched with an expression close to awe as she stuffed her face, she happily gulped down a cup of coffee and observed, “Nice place. Come here often?”

“Not as much as I used to,” he murmured, taking a sip of his drink. “Tell me about this man you’re hunting. Is it personal?”

“Please, don’t make me lose my appetite. Surely we can come up with something else to talk about,” she groaned around a mouthful of beef and melted cheese. He had removed his leather jacket when they entered the pub, and his black short sleeve t-shirt stretched across his biceps in a manner entirely too distracting for comfort. Their high-backed booth made it feel as though they were on an island all by themselves, the dark wood and Tiffany lamps creating a cozy cocoon while still allowing a view of the nearly deserted dance floor.

“Ah, definitely personal then. Did he insult your honor? Break your heart? Have you ever even been in love?”

It stung how quickly he was able to see through her. Did she wear her heartache like a stamp on her forehead announcing to everyone she was an idiot? Ignoring the last question, she replied, “He hurt the only person who ever cared about me out of petty revenge. Neal Cassidy broke me. Now I’m going to return the favor.”

“Chills, darling.” His tone was teasing, but she thought she saw him shudder at her words. “I guess you don’t abide the notion of turning the other cheek.”

“Not when the first hit cost me my home, my possessions, and my peace of mind.”

“So he’s the reason you haven’t eaten in days and don’t have any luggage? Sounds like a lovely chap.”

“I don’t need your commentary or your sympathy, Captain. While I appreciate your help tonight, and I definitely owe you one for the meal, I think my past is closed for further discussion. Let’s talk about you instead. What’s your story?”

“I don’t have one, love. What you see is what you get.”

“What I see is someone dodging my question. Guess I’ll have to fill in the details myself then. Let’s see…thirty-something-year-old man who lives a life of boredom and pines for more while feeling stuck in his white picket fence world. You have a decent career in a field that pays well but decided to start a side hustle to meet new people and have something to do after eight in the evening.” Gesturing with her chin toward his forearm, she continued, “Currently nursing his own broken heart over the woman who loved and left him. The only thing I can’t figure out is what part of England you’re from.”

“Well, aren’t you the perceptive one,” he answered with a self-deprecating chuckle. “Although, I would argue it’s cheating since I have my emotional baggage inked on my skin for everyone to see while you carry yours around like an invisible tumor on your soul. As far as where I’m from, a man likes to maintain a little mystery.”

“Come on! You really aren’t going to tell me anything about yourself? After I guessed all that about you?”

With an unfathomable look, he smiled softly and said, “Fine, I’m from Cambridge. Now you know all my secrets. And allow me to call your attention to how well my devious plan worked. My first evening with my side hustle, as you call it, and I’m already having a late night rendezvous with a beautiful woman. One full of food and dancing.”

“There will be no dancing, Captain. But I wouldn’t be opposed to more food.”

“Not sure where you’ll put it, love, there’s no more room on the table. But I’m game if you are. Come on, one dance, and I’ll buy you a whole pie.”

She wanted pie but not as much as she wanted to feel his arms around her. She wanted it so badly her mind raced with images of skin on skin and restless hands exploring. Then her stomach twisted at the knowledge they would say goodbye soon. They probably should have already said it, truth be told. As she debated what harm could come from giving in just this once, he extended his hand and pulled her gently from the seat. Slowly, she felt a small section of her walls crumble and gave him a reluctant smile. “One dance.”

The soft music wasn’t loud enough to allow for an appropriate selection of dance style, but she didn’t mind when he gathered her close and swayed gently in time with his soft humming. She felt his breath stir the hair around her face and realized this was a mistake. Now that she knew how it felt, it would be harder to deny herself an encore. Especially knowing tonight was a one-time thing.

“Tell me something, Swan. Do you believe in love at first sight?”

“No, I don’t believe in love at all,” she answered. Her words conveyed her deeply held conviction that poets and Hollywood movie producers invented love to make people so miserable with the lack of it, they had to seek out fictionalized versions to find some measure of happiness. Her tone, however, sounded as though she was open to being convinced otherwise.

“That’s a shame. I think you’ll miss out on a lot of what life has to offer by being so close-minded and scared.”

“If I were scared, which I’m not, I have every reason to be. One of my foster moms told me a long time ago that love wouldn’t buy me a diamond ring, and it was as easy to be in a relationship with a rich man as a poor one. Easier really. I used to think she was a witch, but now I think she had a point.”

“Bloody hell, what exactly did that man do to you?”

She felt his direct gaze like a physical thing caressing her even as his eyes flickered with disappointment. “I told you. He broke me. And my bank account.”

“Money isn’t everything, love.”

“Excuse me if I ignore advice telling me to count my non-monetary blessings from the man who picked me up in his Beamer. It may not be everything but not having it leaves you with nothing.”

“A person who needs forty dollars a day and makes forty is richer than someone who has everything and needs more.”

“Now you’re just being silly,” she said as she slipped from his arms. “And when a rainy day comes? What then?”

“I recently took up being an Uber driver in my spare time, love. I imagine I’ll make more on rainy days.”

Laughing as she looked at his endearing face under the dim light, she shook her head. “About my pie…”

—

She knew what she was doing. She lingered over the large platter containing a sampling of every type of pie the surprisingly eclectic menu had to offer. She watched him with affection as he critiqued each in turn, always saving the bites with whipped cream for her. The best parts, in other words.

She was stalling.

The night hadn’t turned out as she expected. While her main goal was unfulfilled, she couldn’t make herself think of it as a loss when her sides hurt from laughing, and her troubled heart felt at peace. It was a pity it had to end. And not because she had nowhere to go, although that was certainly the case.

Slowly they made their way back to his car, neither one speaking as the noises of the summer night buzzed in the background. She’d said a lot of goodbyes in her lifetime, eagerly in most cases, but was strangely reluctant to add this one to the list. “Well, Captain, it’s been an expensive night for you. I think you better drop me off at the nearest bus station before I cost you any more.”

“You’re always trying to bring the conversation back around to money. Get in,” he ordered as he handed her into the car.

The air in the cabin of his luxury sedan felt heavy with expectation. Neither of them spoke nor hardly moved a muscle. She considered asking him to turn on the radio but didn’t want to miss out on the last few moments of hearing his even breathing next to her. Minutes passed, and it took her a while to notice they had left Storybrooke and were heading back toward Misthaven. “How much further to the bus station?”

“We passed it several miles back. You’re going to stay at my place.”

Under normal circumstances, this would be where she prepared to kick someone’s ass, but she knew deep down, as surprising as his announcement was, she had nothing to fear from him. Well, nothing except a repeat of the broken heart fiasco that was getting harder to remember with every second spent in his company. “Oh no, I’m not. What happened to no strings and no funny business?”

“Calm down, Swan. Our deal stands. I’m working the rest of the night so you’ll have the place to yourself. Trust me, the bed in my guest room is much more comfortable than a seat at the bus station.” Without taking his eyes off the road, he reached into one of the compartments in the console and pulled out a key. “There are some shirts in the dryer if you need something to wear. Help yourself to whatever you want. If you hang around until nine, I’ll even make breakfast. If you don’t, leave the key under the Welcome mat.”

“I think you better keep your key, Captain. There are two ways this could end, and neither one is pretty.” She gave him a sidelong glance and was mildly irked to see him grinning at her.

“Only two? Please enlighten me with your power of premonition.”

Heaving a sigh of frustration, she wished he would be logical about this whole thing. Sure they had attraction in spades; the very air around them seemed to crackle with electricity whenever their eyes met. But she knew it would fade, and the only thing left then would be goodbye. Better to skip the messy part and go straight to the end. “The first is I stay and have breakfast, and it turns into the day and then another night….”

“That doesn’t sound so bad, love. And the second?”

“I leave the key under the mat, and we never see each other again.”

“Hmm, option two is decidedly less appealing. I’ll take what’s behind Door Number One, please,” he joked.

“You think so until reality sets in and you realize you’ve taken in a stray with a score to settle and not a cent to her name. It won’t be long before the sight of me in your shirts makes you cringe, and you resent having to share the couch with a woman who has nothing to give.” She would know having been in a relationship with a person who was only capable of taking, and she vowed never to do that to someone else.

“I have half a mind to hunt down this Cassidy fellow myself after seeing the hit job he did on you. Listen, Swan, the key has no strings. Breakfast is just food. Whatever happens, happens. But if you think I’m going to drop you off at a deserted bus station with only the clothes on your back, fetching as they are, you’ve got the wrong idea about me in more ways than one.”

“I’m not yours to rescue, Captain.”

“You could be,” he whispered in a voice that made her skin tingle. He tossed her a half-hearted smile, eyes stormy with the knowledge she was going to turn him down. Again.

“The fact we both want me to be is warning enough it’s a bad idea. Come on, Killian, let’s call it a night now so we can remember it fondly in the years to come.”

His jaw clenched, and she was worried he was going to fight with her sensible argument. People didn’t meet people in the middle of the road and form attachments in one night. This wasn’t a fairy tale, and she was as far from a princess as a person could get.

Although she had to admit he made a rather fine prince.

Pulling off into a nearby gas station, he turned to her and said almost threateningly, “We’re not through discussing this.”

Then he stepped out and slammed the door as the sky opened up.

—

It was a dirty trick. She knew even as she did it, but it was for his own good. For whatever reason, he felt like he needed to protect her, and she needed to save him from himself. So she waited until he walked into the convenience store and made a run for it.

That’s not to say she didn’t have a brief moment of whimsy. She couldn’t stop herself from placing a kiss on the key he had casually tossed to her as if inviting her into his home and his life wasn’t a big deal. Then she carefully placed it on the dash, grabbing the newspaper from his backseat as an afterthought, and scurried away before she was caught.

Like a rat.

Maybe Neal was exactly the kind of man she deserved.

The rain beat down in a punishing way, her makeshift umbrella getting soggy and soft under the onslaught. She was so busy looking over her shoulder, convinced he was going to search for her and half hoping he was successful, that the sudden absence of the storm took her by surprise.

“Here, miss, it’s raining cats and dogs tonight,” the sturdy doorman of the fancy establishment she was passing said as he reached out to place his umbrella over her. The burgundy awning extended to cover most of the sidewalk and, despite the late hour, classical music was drifting from the open door. Limousines lined the street, spilling well-dressed patrons as they approached the swanky club.

Before she could maneuver out of the way, she was swept into a tide of rich fish, all glammed out and ready for the party to start or continue as the case may be. She overheard one woman, whose hat was so large she had to tilt her head to make it through the door, complain, “Regina’s parties are always so dull even nature weeps.”

Deciding a boring party indoors was better than a lonely night in the rain, Emma changed her stance and walked over the threshold with her head held high like she belonged there. She noticed the plaque on the wall as she entered read The Rabbit Hole and couldn’t help but think it was aptly named. With its marble floors and curving staircase, it was no wonder this wasn’t one of the stops on the Captain’s tour of town. This place was as high-end as they came.

There was a man collecting tickets at a small side table and, with only a minute to improvise, she was glad to see the stubs were roughly the size of the photo she was toting around, one of the few remaining possessions to her name. Without a moment of regret, she turned the photo face down, relieved the love note Neal had written on the back was faded and worn, so only his faint signature was legible. Luckily, the sheer volume of people entering the place meant the employee merely took it from her without looking to confirm it was what it appeared to be.

Following the crowd into a large ballroom off to the side, she saw a black grand piano played with a precise kind of violence by a wild-haired man in a tuxedo. The room was packed to the gills, the group she straggled in with taking the last seats on the far side of the room. The audience was appreciative but far from silent, conversations carrying on as if private concerts of this caliber were a normal everyday occurrence for them. Every time Emma thought she found a place to rest her sore feet and sorer heart, someone took it before she could get there and, in one near miss, she almost flattened a lap dog that warranted his own seat for the show.

Finally, after pushing her way through a narrow row, she found a place and asked the man in the next chair with a hint of desperation, “Is this seat taken?”

Shrugging a silent negative with brooding eyes that lit up when she neared, she tried to ignore the searching glance he gave her as she dropped into the chair and surreptitiously removed her shoes. She could tell by the hint of a smirk he noticed the movement, but at least he had the good grace not to comment on it.

He was handsome in a careworn kind of way. His tousled dark hair and thick stubble were eerily similar to the Captain’s look, and it made her shuffle in her seat with guilt. The man kept staring, his light-colored eyes settling somewhere between gray and green, keenly taking in her appearance and finding it amusing if the continued presence of his smirk was any indication.

As the final notes of the concerto echoed through the room, a burst of applause started. Now that she was fed and able to sit for a few moments, Emma realized she was exhausted. It was a bone-deep weariness far beyond fatigue, and she was fairly confident it could be traced back to a man with blue eyes and more charm than any one person should be allowed to have.

She wondered where Killian was now. If he had already given up or if he was wasting more time and losing out on more money combing the streets looking for his erstwhile damsel in distress. Emma knew what she did was for the best as surely as she knew she would be haunted by the feeling of his arms wrapped around her for a long time.

After a brief break, the musician approached the piano again. Before he could start hammering out another song with the intensity of a madman, a raven-haired woman stepped in front of the instrument. She called out in a commanding voice, “Pardon the interruption but does anyone recognize this man? It would seem there was a mix-up at the ticket counter and someone accidentally handed in a photograph instead of their invitation to this private event.”

Resisting the urge to sink deeper into her chair, she furtively looked around as the audience murmured amongst themselves regarding the unusual disruption. She could tell by the sardonic tone of the woman’s voice and the way she emphasized the word private she wasn’t convinced it was an innocent mistake. A scene would be made if the guilty party were found and couldn’t provide the appropriate documentation.

“Really? No one is going to come forward?” With an annoyed look at the assembly, she sulked, “Fine, I won’t waste any more of your time.”

She saw the woman hurry to the corner and carry on a quick conversation with a few men before the group disbursed and fanned out to cover the room. Feeling her luck was running out, she slipped her feet back into her shoes with barely a wince and slowly stood under the watchful gaze of her neighbor.

She needed to escape for the second time that night, but now she had hundreds of witnesses. Nonchalantly, she surveyed the room, trying to determine the best way. During this perusal, a man caught her eye, and she froze as he began to cut across the room to her side. So much for a stealthy getaway.

Her pursuer had an air of refined boredom with an edge of mischief. His graying hair was an attractive finish to a lean, well-dressed form. Cocking an eyebrow in disdain or maybe curiosity, he spoke quietly to not draw the notice of the surrounding crowd. “A word, madam.”

“With me?”

“Indeed.”

“I was afraid you were going to say that.” Squaring her shoulders, she ignored the way her neighbor watched with rapt attention as she resolutely marched toward her fate.

@teamhook @kmomof4 @jrob64 @motherkatereloyshipper @stahlop @xarandomdreamx @xsajx @klynn-stormz

[shadowdianne]

Fic writer review [Or a fic writer tag game if you prefer]

I was tagged by @naralanis and I can already see her grin all the way from where I am xd Thank you, dear, for the tag, let’s see what are my answers, shall we.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

*bursts out laughing* Adding both pseuds I have… 535 according to the account info but by counting them all I’m reaching 541 so I’m guessing it’s counting some drafts I need to re-find.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

I seriously hated you for this one xd I was going to do it by hand by I decided one-third there that I value my mental stability a little bit more xd according to the stats page back at a03 that number would be 1257884. It may be wrong. I think there should be a few more numbers up there but the majority of my works are one-shots so *shrugs* There’s also the fact that counting my ao3 things only is shaving off like half of it Xd Anyway, can we laugh at the fact that I’m a pain in the ass and that I’ve written a lot? More than I should have, that’s for sure

3. How many fandoms have you written for?

Trick question because I haven’t crossposted everything I wrote back in ffnet and I actually erased some fics from my account back there so the numbers are a little blurry there.

When I had the entirety of my work posted both in ffnet and a03 I had written for: Twilight (Bella/Alice) Glee (Faberry and there were a couple Pezberry and I don’t fucking remember the pairing name for Santana and Quinn), Harry Potter (Hermione/Ginny, Hermione/Narcissa, Hermione/Bellatrix) OUAT (SwanQueen and several oneshots focusing on the mad hatter and the blue fairy solely back at ffnet that were written in Spanish and never translated), I actually had a veeeery old au prompt of Frozen (Elsanna in where I wrote them as non sibilings), Rizzoli and Isles (Rizzles), Dishonored 2 (Emily Kaldwin/Alexi Mayhew), Lara Croft and Wonder Woman, Supergirl (SuperCorp/Supercat) I had a 100 one -or maybe two??- (Clexa), The Shannara Chronicles (Amberle/Eretreia [Or Princess Rover], Rwby [Blake Belladona/Yang], The Worst Witch (Hecate Hardbroom and Pippa Pentangle), The Half of it, Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (Madam Satan/Zelda Spellman) and… I think that’s it(?) I may be forgetting some but probably nothing important if I’m not remembering it lol.

4. Top 5 fics by kudos?

Ah, we are going to go there, uh? Xd My works are not the kudos and comment getting type Xd So I was quite surprised when I went to check this.

1: Cracked it I wrote this one back in 2017, it was a prompt done by an anon: Lena is nerding with one of her projects at home, mumbling mostly to herself because she’s stuck and Kara casually mentions how to solve the problem like it’s nothing. I really had some fun with this. It was back when some us, SQeeners were fully doing the jump between OUAT and SuperGirl (I mean, there had already been some crossover as for fandom is related but this when the girls were actually getting their conjoined voice within the fandom)

2: Dateless I honestly needed to check what this one was about but I think I can see why this one shot has the amount of kudos it has. It’s a short and sweet idea and responds to the Teachers Au that went SO well with SQ. Everyone thinks they hate each other and try to set them up with other people whilst they, in truth, are dating. I don’t remember if I wrote them as married rather than dating but despite being from 2017 as well is one cheeky enough to be cool Xd I probably would edit some lines now *shudders*

3: After you I truly didn’t expect this one to be top 3. Makes me think of a lot of things, if I’m being honest Xd. After you was a one shot written almost feverishly as an answer to the fabulous drawings that Sejic did of both Lara Croft and Wonder Woman back at 2018 or something. It’s just Lara and Diana being himbos but not at all with each other.

4: How about… How about is one I remember perfectly, it was my answer to the ending of the Half of it film. I had SOME thoughts about it, let’s just stop there Xd I really liked the film itself but I think and I thought at the time that my response to wishing for a final scene at the very end of the credits responds to me being in a different personal moment than the characters. I really wanted to explore my feelings about it and so I wrote about them finding each other again after some time passes. It was also something I wrote after quite the hiatus so I took it as something I could write about without focusing too much on the why.

5: Come to me

Ahh, SuperCorp Xd I remember this one actually. A friend of mine and I were talking about descriptions, and she mentioned quite off-handedly how she wanted a fic in where Kara’s back was described. I complied… more or less.

Fun tidbit, despite the big volume of my work is obviously set in ouat there’s only 1 SQ fic there as you can see, the others are either SuperCorp or the random one shots I created for Wonderwoman/Lara Croft and The half of it. *sighs in deep thought* I’m also not going to look too much into how almost all of the fics were posted and written back in 2017. Nope, not at all.

*Small voice screaming you peaked in 2017 and everything else is garbage jumps back and forth*

5. Do you respond to comments? Why/why not?

I tend to always respond, yup. I truly value comments. I might have gone for spells of time in where I didn’t have the mental capacity to check in old fics because I truly didn’t know what to answer but I treasure every single comment and you all who comment know that I can start to ramble in the answers xd -sorry about that- I really really REALLY love interaction.

6. A fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending:

Ok, Nara, come on, this one is a catch for me. I’ve written angst in far too many fics to remember the angstiest one :P I have the most recent one, though, that is the easy one to think about: Goodbye.Written for @delirious-comfort. I’m just going to say “Kisses with their last dying breath” as an idea of what awaits inside but I’ve written about death and loss and angst quite a lot. There were some I wrote back to SQ with Regina needing to kill Emma during the Dark Swan arc that, to this day, I still love and some others in where Regina is the one that dies, again and again, trapped by magic while Emma watches. I have the loss in mental destruction form and… I REALLY like my angst y’know xd

7. Do you write crossovers?

Not counting Lara and Wonder Woman not really! I think it comes from the fact that I loooove worldbuilding as a whole and some pairings would require all my focus into making the world perfect which in turn would make me self conscious on the OOCness of it all.

8. Ever received hate on a fic?

*snorts* I’ve received hate due to the pairing I’ve written about, how I’ve written about it, the amount I’ve written, how slow or quick I can be, the usage of some tropes, the lack of usage of those same tropes… Let’s just go with: yuuuup.

9. Do you write smut?

I’ve written smut, yeah! But I can already see the pointed looks of some so let’s elaborate Xd I write smut when asked and sometimes when not asked but there’s a part of me I like to call a terrible tease that prefers writing the beginning of a scene, taunt it, focus on what happens before the sex scene per se as I find it more enjoyable to write. The process of escalation is always the best for me to see what can I do it by using both dialogue and descriptors tbh, so I tend to tease more than show.

9. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

A few weeks ago I’d have said: Maybe(?) But trying to follow the trail of some other fics that had been stolen from some friends -I think it was me trying to find more about the page that stole something from your Nara!- I found some pages in where my fics had been reposted. In some it was stated that the person posting the fic wasn’t the author but I had never been contacted in order to see if I’d say yes to such a thing and in some others the page was locked up but I could still see someone was pretending to be the author. I did the thing and got some of those down.

Pointed note: Ask me if you want to post or translate or anything. I will look into you and answer you if you seem honest about the thing. But despite every joke and self-deprecating comment those 500 and then some fics represent MY time so very kindly I say fuck off to those who wish to steal from me and if I catch you… you don’t really want to see me angry, trust me.

10. Ever had a fic translated?

I’ve given permission to some, yeah, but never heard it back from them so I’m guessing it didn’t stick.

12. Have you ever co-written a fic?

I’ve written series alongside other authors as @stregaomega for example. And some others that are unpublished -looking at you @carsonnieve - I’ve also done collabs… but fics co-written in the sense of two authors same chapters I don’t have anything posted I’m afraid :P

13. All-time favourite ship?

*snorts*, I guess the obvious answer is SQ uh? And I do think they were the ones that allowed me to read and write SO much. The one I feel more strongly about, however, is Bering and Wells from Warehouse 13.

14. WIP you want to finish, but don’t think you ever will?

All of them counts as a valid answer? But if I only could finish one that would be Arcadia. With A forgotten Promise second and the one I did as an Assassins Creed AU third. (I don’t remember the name so there’s no link, sorry xd)

15. Writing strengths?

Uhhhh, you REALLY want me to say that? I don’t fucking know!! To me everything I write is garbage. I always try to go for the feelings so I guess. Dunno xd I’ve been told I’m good at worldbuilding and to be honest is what I enjoy the most.

16. Writing weaknesses?

Everything Xd Pacing? What I hate the most sometimes is dialogue, I would count it as a weakness but I’m always far too focused on description rather than dialogue. I don’t think it’s a bad thing per se but it’s something that I don’t do as much.

17. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in a fic?

I’m conflicted. Always. Majorly because I think that having bilingual characters in fanfiction is portrayed and expected in a way that I don’t feel it’s honest with how bilingual people -us- talk. So if I go by what I know I do I think it’s not what readers hope to see when it comes to that and if I go for how canonically is hoped to be found I don’t think it’s logical. But that’s me and my overthinking Xd If I have the option I like to do it.

18. First fandom you ever wrote for?

Belice! Or Bella/Alice. Worst first fic ever but oh, well, I’m always saying that :P

19. What’s your fav fic you’ve written so far?

Uhh… Don’t make me do this XD Agh, I don’t know. I’ve always been very vocal about Metallic Ink because I let myself enjoy the process of creating a magic system almost out of zero and that was fun. Despite hating some of the writing process and that I’d do it differently now I think I’m going to stick with that answer. Or anything that had any steampunk-based undertone. To be honest I like more thinking of concepts, I had one in where Emma was a thief and it involved the robbery of a ring that was Regina’s one way ticket to freedom I then later repurposed that I adored thinking about so let’s go with…. Yeah, I love having the option of changing things up a little and focus on how characters would fit in different aesthetics for this one Xd

Annnd… these are four pages, gods. I’m just going to tag @waknatious @carsonnieve @stregaomega here and see what they do- Enjoy the questionnaire ladies :P

[peeterparkr]

The Holiday.|Tom Holland

chapter one: The Prince and the Pauper. (Pauper.)

↳ read Sophia’s version here and a little bit of Tom. (Tim fic)

So, the christmas series is finally here! This is a 2 fics in one, meaning I’ll write Tom’s fic and @jambrosemc will write a Tim Chalamet fic, if you’re not familiar with the concept, it’s based on the movie The Holiday, where two women after being heartbroken switch their homes and lives for a bit. Both fics are reader insert, however Emma’s character will be named Sophia in this fic and my character will be named Iris in her fic. Remember the fics are connected and that Tom’s introduction is held in @jambrosemc​ ‘s fic. And so Tim’s introduction is here. Hope it’s not complicated and we hope you love it. 

STORY SUMMARY:  Two women troubled with guy-problems, one who’s in love with love and one who doesn’t believe in it are both suffering from a broken heart, with little reasoning and nothing left to lose, they swap homes in each other's countries for the holidays, where they’ll meet a local guy who will probably change their destiny. 

chapter summary: The heartbreak of an unrequited lover. pairing: tom holland x y/n | warnings: Chad, mentions of sex, alcohol, mentions of cheating.  word count: 7.2k

story masterlist. 

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There is something unequivocally  known about love, everything that’s been said about it, is almost true. We’ve been bombarded with love songs, romantic comedies, romance novels, poetry, it’s everywhere. There can never be enough love songs, because no matter how incredible it never seems to be the same, you’ll never see two pieces that are identical, some of them are similar, of course, but they all speak from a very deep side of Love.  Love isn’t one thing that is written down, not an exact science. There’s no right formula to whatever love is. But every single thing written about love might be true, at least to someone. Love is something so personal and yet we can all relate to it, but then again there’s never two loves that will feel the same. There can be two love stories starting at the same time but you’ll never feel like it’s the same. But everytime someone dares to write or speak or sing about love, it’s most likely to be true. Or so you’ve learned throughout the years.

In Romeo and Juliet,  Romeo asked himself ‘Did my heart love till now?’, and there's common sense to it, we’ve all felt that…We’ve all wondered if you’ve known love before you met the one.  You believed you had, you thought you had it all figured out. How much can one learn about love? We’ve all felt it. At some point, or another. You had. It’s incredibly easy to understand that though love is unique in its own sense, love is universal.

You did believe that everything concerning love was true. Shakespeare also said, "Journeys end when lovers meet."

Was it true? You loved to rely on that thought, that we were meant to travel until we found the one. That two people are destined to meet in the middle and start a new one together.

You loved to think about love more than anyone did, you were hopeless. It’s incredibly complex, and subtle and it’s got the power to change someone, and a story, completely. Love is not easy.

Love is also blind, you, perfectly,  knew about that. It was smart to know that you’d been blinded yourself.

Love fades. Love is lost. Love is complicated. Love can be something eternal, or love can only last for a night.

Then, there was the one love you knew, the one you’d been living for a while. Unrequited love. No one really talks about that one. All love stories rely on the fact that the two lovers will end up together. But the unrequited love? No, no one dares to write about it. Maybe because they’re too sad in their sorrow to even think of that. You always wondered what would be of that story if someone ever dared to write it. And what’s the destiny awaiting for them?

Always the bad luck, the ones with the blinded reason, but always foreign to that one feeling of joy. Always wounded, and always left when the sun is out. The handicapped of hearts.

You were one, you were one of them, the one who is in love with that one guy who never dares to love back.

It gets even worse around the Holidays, everyone speaks of it. It’s everywhere. You go to the mall and see people buying gifts for their significant others, you turn the TV on and there’s the usual bad romantic films that you ended up watching, always the same, the girl goes from the big city back to her old town and her high school sweetheart is in love with her still, all while there’s an angel or Santa Claus, or whatever they come up this time, and she finds herself falling back in love with her old town, and she’s a painter or whatever and she lets go her dream of the big city to go back to her pathetic love interest.

Yet you always watched them, curled up in front of your TV with the candy that you were supposed to give out on Halloween but instead kept them for Christmas.

That was you, a hopeless romantic who was desperate for love.

You were there, wrapping a delicate christmas present that probably was not wanted but that you were too blinded and too stupid to see that. Also trying to wrap your own mind whether you’d give this out or not.

You were pathetic, and there he was in all his splendor. Chad.

Of course, maybe that’s what you get for being in love with a man named Chad, but he didn’t live up to his name. He was handsome, and incredibly perfect, and you were always so mesmerized by him. You had been in love with him for three years now, three miserable years. And honestly it’s been the worst years of your life, worst birthday, christmases, Halloween, New Years Eve’s that needed wine and Xanax. The biggest curse. All because you’re in love with a man who’s never and will never ever love you back.

He probably wasn’t conventionally good looking, not for most girls around anyway, but he had a confidence and a sly sexuality that could get you to your knees in the blink of an eye.

“Y/N, dear, please tell me you’re not deeply lost looking at Chad?” Angela, your coworker and probably closest thing to a friend asked.

“What?” You were snapped out of your trance. “No, no!” Though you had been.

The holidays party at the newspaper you worked at. You wrote the only good news, you’d say, the column of UNIONS, when you described marriages and gave the couples a little bit of spotlight to their recent and new found joy. You wanted to write way more than that, honestly, but you didn’t mind. Though you knew you were probably wasted potential. Potential, everyone said you had it.

“I thought that was over,” Angela pointed out.

“It is! It is—“You tried to say. “It—is, mostly.”

Angela rolled her eyes, “thought so,” she snapped. “What even was the deal with you two? You used to fuck him right?”

“I—“you coughed. “Yeah, I used to sleep with him, but more importantly I was in love with him.”

Still were, for that matter.

“Oh, great, and then—you discovered he was fucking that other girl in accounting, Denise.”

“Yes, I did find out and hence why I stopped… sleeping with him,” you whispered, embarrassed. “And I don’t want to talk about this at the party.”

“But like I always see you two together, so he cheats on you and you keep being friends with him?” Angela pushed to your own disarray. “Plus, I’m like 300% sure you’re the one who writes the articles for him, he hasn’t one ounce of talent and you do.”

You did write his stuff. But couldn’t get anywhere yourself.

“I well-”

“And he cheated, y/n.”

“Yes but he didn’t cheat, you see in his mind we weren’t in a relationship and we were in mine… but like—“

“So if you’re not in a relationship that means you have to expect he’s going to fuck other women?” She pointed out.

“I—“ you didn’t know what to say. “No, no, I mean—but I was so in love with him, but—“Somehow this had opened a gate that you hadn’t opened in a while. “Wait—No, no I can’t cry,” you said to yourself feeling like there was going to be a cascade pooling your eyes. “Does it look like I’m crying?”

“Y/n, maybe—Look,” she wiped off a tear, I—“She coughed. “Did he ever say he loved you?”

“I—yes, three times.” You had counted them. “When I reminded him of that he said it must've been a  question and it most certainly was not.”

“You see y/n, when you catch a man fucking another woman you’re not supposed to remain friends with him, you’re supposed to make a scene, threaten to chop off his dick, throw things at him, like I did with your brother.”

You rolled your eyes, “Tim didn’t cheat on you,” you said. “You slept with him once, didn’t talk to each other for like a month and he found someone else and you made a scene.”

You knew your brother was many things but he wasn’t a cheater, he was not a bad person. Tim was someone with enough confidence to know what he wanted and sure, he did find a one night love with strangers every now and then, but he wasn’t a bad person. He probably was too confused. He’s the typical man who is afraid of commitment and has no follow through.

He never fell in love, that wasn’t his thing. The opposite of you, who fell in love deeply. Tim never—wanted any commitment. He could have a one night stand and never follow through.

“But—you see that’s what you’re supposed to do,” Angela continued.

“But I’m not doing anything, we just—text,” you admitted with pity, “and sometimes we FaceTime but like that’s it, and we’ve gone out for lunch and look, he says we’d be idiots to give up our friendship but—“You couldn’t continue.

“Fucking men, they’re trash, all of them, he’s got you right where he wants you, who wouldn't want a fantastic girl like you in love with him ... hanging on his every word …?” She asked. “Chad knows anytime he wants to crawl back …”

“And he is… Look, today he—he said we should go out and he gave me a Christmas present.”

“Which was?”

“A set of lingerie but—“

“Oh my god y/n,” she snapped. “I can’t believe how pathetic you are.”

“Is it pathetic really? To think the world is near perfection every time I’m with him?”

Angela rolled her eyes. “Very. It’s...Chad.”

“I… is it wrong, really? I just want to be loved.”

“And you chose Chad?”

Before you could say anything, your boss called out. “Everybody gather around. I have an important announcement to make,” your boss said. “First of all you, I want to wish each and every one of you a Merry  Christmas. It’s been a year, hasn’t it? I’m proud of what we’ve accomplished,”he kept rambling on their achievements or whatsoever they had done throughout the year, you couldn’t care less. “Given that, we may be able to get by with a smaller announcement—Which involves y/n—y/n? Are you there?”

Angela raised your hand.

“Well y/n your column on weddings has been lovely,” he said.

Was it though?

“And—Well, a wedding was privately announced earlier, and I don’t think any other paper in town knows about it and I want you to be the first to report on this particular union,   as it is between two of our most esteemed colleagues got hitched! Bring a loud cheer for Chad Bloom and Denise Higgins!”

Boom.

It all felt...no.

You tried desperately not to cry. Everyone could see you there. Were you dreaming? This was a nightmare.

You didn’t know how you got the guts to get out of that office without crying. You’ve never felt braver before, but you had to give the politest of smiles to Chad and everyone around to then proceed to get your coat and head home. How pathetic did you look in your car crying to a guy who definitely was going to do that.

This felt like a nightmare. The love of your life was engaged.  And you couldn’t do anything about it. Because you didn’t believe in multiple loves, only one, love wouldn’t come again and knock on your door. This was it, you were destined to be lonely and stay lonely. This was your very worst nightmare, all that time wasted upon and there was nothing you could do about it.

It hurt, your heart was wrenched. You’d open the Halloween candy sooner, and you’d bought ice cream, three pints of ice cream.

Just a week before he had given you the set of lingerie and said he was eager to see you wearing it. Honestly, you had lied to Angela. You had seen him a couple of times, and sooner or later you’d end up in between the sheets because you had absolutely no self control when it came to him. He knew how to press your buttons and where to touch you and he’d try to charm you each time and you’d end up falling for it. He’d say that he’d changed and that he always believed in you.

Honestly, you always fell for it because you thought you were both destined to be in love.

But now it was all gone, you’d lost him. He was going to marry someone else.

This probably was the lowest point in your life, it really was. Because it was so stupid to fall in love with someone who was just going to step on you, and you needed someone. Time was passing by, it was getting darker and night was only drowning you more. You needed someone to talk to, who’d listen. But someone who wouldn’t judge you just as bad or who couldn’t judge you as bad.

You were getting tired of crying but you couldn’t help it. You felt insignificant and as small as humanly possible. So very crushed.

You called your brother, because though he probably would judge you, and he’d probably not care, he was kind of forced to listen because you were relatives and you did help him from time to time. Lately more than you wanted to.

“Y/N—?” Tim answered, and you could hear there was music playing behind him. Of course he’d be awake in the middle of the night. He probably was out clubbing.

“Tim—I need—I’m not okay,” you admitted.

“Y/N I can’t really—“he laughed in between. “Hear you.”

“Chad is engaged!” You said louder.

He laughed. “Chad, what a stupid name.”

“Tim I’m serious!” She stated.

“How serious can this be his name is Chad!” Tim giggled. He was clearly drunk.

“Tim! I—He’s engaged I—I can’t believe it just a week ago he said he—“

“We’ve both known Chad is an asshole y/n, his name is Chad for fuck’s sake,” Tim pushed. “We both—I thought you were over him.”

“I… well.”

“Fuckin’ hell, y/n.”

“I’m never gonna love again,” you stated.

He scoffed. “Love doesn’t exist, y/n,” he stated. “Not for someone named Chad.”

“Stop.”

“He—“Tim sighed. “Look, we both knew he was an idiot, and we both knew he was going to break your heart and—He already had! May I remind you of that? He cheated on you!” He stated. “He is an asshole who doesn’t deserve any of your tears and I’m a hundred percent sure you are crying.”

You were, for that matter. Love for you was also always shedding tears.Sad tears. Love hurts. “I love him.”

“And I love this vodka on my hand,” he stated. “That—means nothing, okay?”

“You’ve never been in love,” she snapped. “You don’t know how it feels to have your love taken away—“

“Don’t go there, y/n.”

“I—I just—I can’t—“

“Y/N you need a break,” Tim said without really caring. “I’ll call you back later alright? I’m busy.”

A break.

Yes, that’s exactly what you needed. A break from your stupid and pathetic life, a break from your little fantasy. A break from Chad. Honestly, you were tired of it. Always having the worst of luck. You needed a break from men, though you barely had… Being completely honest, it only takes one man to lose faith in humanity. They hold that power.

You knew what love was and well, you’d never have it. You were destined to be the side character, the best friend and the one plot device. Not relevant.

Because honestly how stupid were you.

But was it really so bad to feel that way? To long for love, for someone who would run to you, and whom you could fall so deeply with. Guess now you had to build up walls. Because now you couldn’t get nobody else to hurt you again, nobody was worth this pain. Nobody should ever feel this way. You never wanted to let anyone hurt you again.

Honestly, you so needed a break.  But where and how?

You couldn’t stay in your place, it held too many memories, lots of them of you being stupid with Chad because you were such an idiot for letting him in your house and corrupt your place. You needed a break because everything would remind you of him, your car, his car, his house, this town, everything. Also your place was too sad.

You could go away. You had to, because you couldn’t let yourself drown in more sorrow. You were so unbelievably tired of it.

You had to go. Away from him, away from this place and your stupid house. Hell, if you could, you’d go to another country.

You rang Timmy again.

“What- y/n?”

“Where should I go?”

“What?”

“Yes on vacation,” you added.

“How do I-I don’t know, fuck it eh, oh wherever they speak English, bye.” He hung up on you again.

Where did they speak English?

England, of course.

Hell, maybe that’s why Chad didn’t love you, you were stupid, probably. England. London. You’d always wanted to go there. Anywhere really, but you never went anywhere because you were still waiting on Chad. Jesus, how much time did you spend wasting on that man?

England.

You opened up your laptop, ready for it. You needed to get away and not waste the holidays watching old and bad Hallmark movies eating ice cream by yourself. Or maybe yes, just far away from your own house.

Airbnb.

You went straight to London, it always seemed like a dream, besides it could work. And you scrolled through houses, big ones, small ones.

Then you found one. ‘Cozy, lovely place above a bookshop’. It did call your mind, it gave the idea of a perfect fantasy, it seemed nice enough.

And far, very far. And so different from whatever her fantasy with Chad had been, what was his thing? Island in the Caribbean.

You kept reading.

“In the other direction, the Bayswater Road will take you to Notting Hill (location of the Julia Roberts/ Hugh Grant film of the same name) and its fantastic local restaurants and bars, boutique shops, and the famous Portobello Road Market.”

That caught your mind. It seemed… perfect but to live with that fantasy of yours to live in a stupid romcom. Could it be?

No, no. You had to go in with the idea that no matter how romantic, you had bad luck and not even such a romantic place would make you have someone to love. You were really supposed to be always lonely. But the idea… of leaving did thrill you.

You didn’t think much of it, but the next morning, you still had that thought roaming in your mind, and eventually… you tried to reach out. It had closed, however. But you had saved the ad.

Sophia.

That was her name.

Hey! I’m interested in your house! That seemed too weird. Besides she had closed it.

You decided to reach out anyway.

“Hey, I was interested in your house! I don’t know if someone else rented it but I thought it was worth the shot. Is it still available? I’m sorry if it’s not. I just really liked your place! It’s okay if it’s not! Sorry! Thank you!” You sent it in. Wondering if you’d apologized just enough times.

You knew she’d probably not respond.

“Oh, sorry! I was renting it because I was planning to go on holiday with my boyfriend but plans changed. We broke up recently so I won’t be going anymore,” she answered.  That had been quick. Lucky she was online but the place was no longer available.

This was your bad luck only. Of course she wasn’t going to rent it. The dream seemed too far away. But… she had just broken up, she probably was feeling awful.

“Oh, I’m sorry!  why did you break up with him?” You asked.

Then read again what you’d just asked. What was wrong with you? This was a stranger. They didn’t need to give any explanation.

“I’m sorry you don’t have to answer that. I don’t know why I asked.” You added.

She was typing. “No, don’t worry! I guess it’s pretty complicated but long story short, he cheated on me.”

Been there, you thought to yourself. But probably at least most likely she was dating him and they were in a relationship not like you with your stupid “whatsoevership” with Chad.

“Men are trash,” you texted her.

“To say the least,” she answered.

You bit your lip. You knew you had to open up to. Well you didn’t have to, but you… felt the need to.

“I’m really sorry, I know how it feels. I was actually looking at your place to escape from a man myself. The love of my life, Chad, just got engaged.”

As soon as you sent it you saw how stupid you looked. You were absolutely pathetic.

“Chad?” Sophia asked.

You chuckled. You could see the smirk from the other side.

“I know. It’s my fault for falling in love with a Chad. Lives up to his stupid name.” Was your response.

It honestly was. But thought it seemed fun to poke on his name, it really didn’t occur to you that it was because of his name that he was an asshole, don’t blame it on a name.

“Well, I’m sorry that “Chad” had to be the love of your life. It sounds like we both need to get away.” Sophia sent.

Yes, you too were sorry.

“Definitely, but I’m gonna keep looking. I need to be at least 500 miles away from him.”

You really were going to keep looking, maybe not as perfect as the place Sophia had but at least go away.

“Maybe we could work something out?” Sophia asked.

Huh.

You grinned before chuckling. “Let’s switch lives like in The Parent Trap, although we’re not twins we’d be switching breakup lives.”

That would be a fun idea, impossible of course but you secretly hoped it could be done.

“Sounds interesting! Where are you from?” She asked.

Was she really up for it or was she just like you? Bored and alone enough to be talking to a stranger you’d met over Airbnb. Some people do tinder, but guessed you did Airbnb to make friends with other women who’d fallen under the sorrow that is falling in love with men.

“Astoria, Oregon. Pretty boring compared to London I guess.” Was your answer. Of course if she was remotely interested on switching before, all hopes would flush now.

“Not at all! All I care is that it’s far from here.” Sophia answered.

Was… it for real?

“Me too.”

You answered in hopes, but not really she’d back away.

“So, should we switch?” She asked.

You stared at the screen, not believing it. You had to make sure. “You’re serious? My place is nothing like yours.”

“Surely it’s not too horrible.”

It wasn’t, honestly. It was pretty. But not exciting, it was only normal. It was clean, it was full of books.

“I have a kitchen, bedroom, bathroom, living room. That's it. And I’m not near a romantic location like yours. I do have a dog, though.”

You didn’t know why you were sabotaging yourself. Matter of habits, maybe.

She didn’t.. Back away. “That’s perfect, I want far away from romance.”

So weird, you wanted to go near something romantic to be reminded love exists, or whatever. You didn’t understand why. Honestly, it probably was only a way to cope with this.

“Well, this is your chance.”

Honestly, this place was everything but romantic.

“Can I ask you one thing?” She asked.

She was going to back away. “Sure.”

“Are there any men in your town?” She asked.

Well, there goes your chance. You had to be honest about it. “Honestly? Zero.”

You waited for the ‘not interested' answer, instead she gave you: “When can I come?”

You scoffed with delight, not believing it. “Tomorrow too soon?” You asked, half-joking only. Honestly, you had to get away now.

“Tomorrow’s perfect actually.”

You couldn’t believe it. “wait wait wait but like are you for real?”

“Absolutely, or would it be too crazy?”

It ws for that matter, but when you’re brokenhearted you have no common sense. You didn’t have one of your own, that is. But this was exciting and this seemed like an adventure. A great idea for the one book you’d promised yourself you’d end up writing one day, instead of writing every other article for Chad.

You thought about it, you really wanted to go through with it. “It is but I’m down for it, but like, okay do you want pics of my home or something so you don’t think I’m a creepy old man who might kidnap you?”

And that would bring less of suspicion, god, why were you like this?

“Umm, yes actually :) that would be great.”

Yeah, she’d say that.

“Okay, wait, want my phone number so we’re not talking over air bnb?”

“Yes, I feel like that might be better.”

What was going on? Why were you exchanging numbers with a girl who you had never met and who lived in a completely different country. Besides, it was even crazier to think you btoh were thinking about switching places. You were crazy, completely off reason. Yet you didn’t know how or why you ended up both texting more, and talking. Showing each other’s places and ranting about men.

You couldn’t blame her for not believing in love, of course she wouldn’t. The ne guy she gives her heart to cheated on her. You wouldn’t blame her, at all. Besides, it was just…

You both had a very different version of it, but it was… Different. Yes, different, you guessed there was no other way to put it into it.

The texting didn’t cease, it continued more than you ever thought it would. Because sometimes it’s easier to rant to a stranger about life and love’s misfortunes. It seemed incredibly stupid how you both were talking about men who decided to ruin your lives. How in this world had you ended up venting to a stranger?

Danny blamed it on her. Danny seemed like the typical male who wanted to have a girlfriend and well, there was Sophia. It seemed sad, seemed like they both settled for it. Not even Sophia seemed to talk about him with love. She was just so… Not into it. Just talking about someone who she used to share time with.

She had given up on it. You couldn’t understand that. If the one who wasn’t the one could make her happy at some point, how happy would she be with the one?

However, you both seemed very alike, and both of you probably were in the same situation. Well, of course, the cheating part was different. But you’d gone through it as well. But Sophia explained that Danny, her ex, hadn’t even felt sorry for cheating.

You knew that story like the palm of your hand. Chad well… He blamed it on you, too. And he had said it, he didn’t cheat.

And though the stories were so different, the feeling was the same, of wanting to take a break from your pain, from a heartache and being so damn unreasonable to think of this. Honestly, though the idea of London seemed romantic, you knew you’d end up curled up crying on the other side of the world.

Sophia seemed to be very well put together, she had her bookshop, which added to her life. And sure, she seemed like a workaholic but she seemed to be kind. Someone who had the guts to follow her dreams and someone who barely had time to think about love.

You wished you were a bit more like her. She seemed like a main character. Even her name was a main character one.

The texting, not sure how or when, turned into a facetime call, and there you were, facetiming with a stranger about the lack of love you’d been involved with.  You pitied her, though. Not in a bad way, but in a way you could completely understand what she was going through. She seemed tough enough. But for her, love had rules. It had to be a certain way, and life had to have a certain balance and everything had to be merely perfect. But love for her was simple, the only rule was not to cheat.

Danny, her ex, had broken that rule. Which honestly, from what you’d gathered she was someone who actually tried. But… No, Sophia had seen him fade out. It always scared you to see that, to see how someone falls out of love. Sophia had seen it. But maybe Sophia’s belief, or lack of, of love was just… Surreal. But you understood it, not completely. But you did.

How could she believe in love when she’d never had it? Truly had it.

And she spoke of love as if it was a disease. Maybe it was, a disease. But was love really the disease or the aftermath the true one?

She didn’t believe in love. And not in a way that everyone has gone through, not in the way when you’re so brokenhearted that you don’t believe in it for a while. No, she didn’t want to give it a chance. For her, life was supposed to be about her success and her job, and the thrill of owning a bookshop.

Maybe she was the one who was right, after all you'd proved that love only could hurt. And how could you, after all of this, believe in it?

“So how long were you with him?” You asked her, as you were pacing around your kitchen, honestly you didn’t care if a complete stranger was seeing you in your ‘Chad reaction’, the bottle of wine, the chips, the cookies, your pj’s. Your pug dog, Tommy following you around.

Yet she was there, so elegantly, with her glass of wine. How was she handling it so well?

She gave it a thought. “About four years. What about you? How long have you loved Chad?” She smirked at the thought.

Four years. It seemed… enough. You rolled your eyes at the mention of his name. “Oh god it does sound super stupid,” you groaned. “But… Three stupid and miserable years, it’s a low point,” you said before finally opening up the wine and pouring a glass.

“No, it’s not stupid,” she answered. But it was, his name was Chad. “But, I can imagine how it would be a low point.”

Very, very low point. “But like you told me—He blamed it on you?” You couldn’t put your mind to it, at least Chad had accepted he’d slept with Denise. Of course, he didn’t say he cheated but he hadn’t… blamed it on you.

“He did,” she admitted. “He said I worked too much, and that I didn’t give him enough attention.”

You clenched your jaw, incredulous of how stupid he was. If you met the guy you’d probably slap him. “Fuck him, honestly, you’re successful bet he was intimidated by your success.” Because that’s how men work.

Sophia sighed. “Hmm, I doubt it. He just seemed… “ She paused. “bored of me.” You could see she was hurt. “I mean, he was right about one thing. I do spend most of my time at work, but that doesn’t give him any right to do that.”

“No. it doesn’t,” you agreed as you plopped on your couch, your dog jumping to your lap .” Why—Why are men—Like—”You didn’t know what you wanted to ask. “No, never mind that’s my question,” and it was. “Why are men?”

She let out a soft laugh. “Why are men indeed. More specifically, why is Chad?” She joked.

You laughed, too, with distress, running a hand through your face. “Ugh, don’t even mention him,” you whined. “He’s an asshole, can you imagine just a week ago he wanted to sleep with me?” You snaked with disbelief.

She groaned. “What I really have trouble understanding is why you ever wanted to sleep with him.” You had the question backwards, why had he ever looked at you? “Maybe his personality, but he seems like such a wad.”

You didn’t know how to answer the question. Then again, you had the same question for her. Why Danny? Why, being such an incredible woman, had she chosen Danny? Love is blind. You’d learned that over the years.

Maybe because ‘Danny and Sophia’ sounded like something with balance. But did it really? How could she see it so simply?

“Look—I—” You took a deep breath. “I believe in love at first sight,” and you did, in your own way. “and I don’t know, I guess—I saw the fantasy, you know?” You explained. “Thought we could—I don’t know, he was charming,” because he had been, at very first, he had been charming and he’d learned how to make you fall in love with him. “I guess I wanted that, you know the whole love story,” you sounded so childish and stupid but how could anyone ever apologize for being in love. “And he made me believe he could give it to me and then he just never—”You had to face the truth. “He only wanted sex and I fell in love,” it all ended so simply. Maybe Sophia was right all along. “Pathetic right?”

She watched you, and you saw it, the pity in her eyes. Yet someone else feeling sad for you.  She probably did think you were pathetic. “No, I don’t think it’s pathetic… I think… well, I’ve come to the conclusion that love isn’t worth any cost,” she answered. “Not really, especially since it doesn’t even seem real.” You wondered again, how come she’d never felt it. “Love makes people get their hopes up. It makes us… give too much of ourselves to other people, when we don’t even know what our future with them looks like,” she explained. Yes you were probably a mental woman to her. “But I don’t think it’s pathetic that you wanted to believe in something that only seems to come from fairytales, I just think that’s what most people do.”

How bad is it to want a fairytale? “Love is worth it, though,” you said, because how come a beautiful feeling could carry so much pain. “It’s men who are the problem.”

She grinned, defeatedly. “Suppose you got me there…”

You had to ask though. “But you... like really don’t believe in love?” You asked. “Then why were you with Danny? Didn’t you love him?”

She grimaced and took a sip of her wine. “You know,” she paused to think a bit. “I thought I loved him, and I thought he loved me.” You understood that part, believing someone loves you back and then it turns out they didn’t… Well, it hurt. “But, I guess he just…”She probably didn’t understand it herself. “And it just made me realize that, even if love is real, it comes so rarely that I don't believe I would ever find it.” That you could understand, though you were so enthusiastic about the feeling, you knew you weren’t meant to find it. “I just don’t think most people do.” She watched you, curiously. “Why have you put so much into it if you were hurt?”

It was an escape, really. Love seemed to make people happy and you wanted to be happy. She reminded you so much of Tim, talking trash about love and not understanding the thrill for it. Being so done with the feeling.

“I think… I dunno, love isn’t a one time thing,” you started with that, because it was true. “I think the problem is I suffered from unrequited love, but I think I… I dunno, I think we get chances,” you said. “Not me though,” you scoffed. “but it’s… I don’t know, I think I’ve always read about love and I’ve always wanted that, and love is complicated, that’s it,” you said, because love could come in so many ways. “I don’t think you can easily-“You shook your head. “I mean I do believe in a sort of thing like love at first sight but I mean, I believe in second chances, but like not for everyone,” seemed like believed in second chances for Chad. “ I guess I… I think there is such a thing as love I’m just… “ you took a deep breath. “super unlucky and maybe that sweet fantasy of any Julia Roberts’ romcom isn’t for me, I’m destined to be a side character who gets no… attention.” Or love.

Sophia probably believed you were helpless. You were. “Oh, come on Iris, that’s not true,” it was easy for her to say. She was the main character. “I mean, if you do come here then you’ll have plenty of opportunity to live a Julia Roberts movie. People seem to find this place so thrilling…” Why wouldn’t they. “I don’t seem to know much about love, or to really be the one to talk to about it, though… “ She admitted truthfully. She gave it a thought. “You know, you should talk to my friend, Tom, if you come. I think you’d get along well, he gushes on about love all the time.”

Your dog raised its head as soon as he heard his name. Tom. You smiled and petted him. “It is thrilling I mean, it’s near Notting Hill,” you were excited. “I just need Hugh Grant and that’s it but…”You knew it wouldn’t come. “You might come here and hate on love with my brother, he hates everything related to it.”

He really did. Tim was even worse than her. Tim never, ever had believed in love. He said he didn’t want to bother about it, no commitment, not ever seeing someone twice because why would he? He said it was a waste of time. Shades of gray on love. And he said he didn’t want to risk just to get hurt. He said love was… a mystery he didn’t want to explore. He liked simple things.

“Really? He sounds better than most men already,” she commented.

You laughed. “He’s not.”

If you ever bumped into someone like your brother you’d end up running the other way.

She chuckled. “Aren’t siblings meant to support one another?”

You scoffed. “You’d think that,” you pointed out. “But no, he’s a man,” you stated clearly. “I don’t know who’s worse men who hate love or men who pretend to love love,” you snaked. Probably the second one. “Your friend is probably the second one.”

Men who don’t believe in love at least are direct about it, and the second type they know and try to hurt you.

She shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. He seems to really believe in it, maybe more than you. He’s really sweet, typically… “She said. “I mean, he is a man so he has his days”

You heard her…. And then you clicked it. Tom, that friend of hers, he probably was in love with her. “Oh,” you closed your eyes. “Of course…. so… Right, right,” she chuckled. “But you don’t believe in love and...Right, right,” you thought it was ironic. You hadn’t even met the guy but you could tell that he probably was so smitten with her and she didn’t see it. A perfect love story.  Why couldn’t she see it? “Perfect setup, see?” You said. “This town is perfect for you, nothing that has to do with romance. It’s a great way to get away from everything romance.”

She seemed confused, because of course, she didn’t see it, she couldn’t, for that matter. But god, how did she not see it?

“Then I can’t wait to go, really,” she went along. “I mean, it seems perfect for you here, too. You can surround yourself in things to remember the “fantasy” of love again,” she offered. “So, are we really switching tomorrow?”

You couldn’t quite put your mind to it. It had been hours of you speaking with this stranger. And all because you wanted to change lives with a stranger. Were you actually going to go through with it? You wanted to.

“You think there are any flights?” You asked, half joking.

“I’m sure there have to be some. Should we check?” She offered.

You smirked and reached for your laptop, conveniently in front of you. “Definitely.”

You expected her to back up.

“Wonderful.” She hadn't. “How long are we doing this for?”

Forever? You wanted to say. “Uh, depends, holidays are coming soon… “ You pointed you. “So, even though I have no interest in spending Christmas here, what’s your idea?”

Because you didn’t want to spend Christmas with your family and hear that question, because you’d promised you’d bring Chad for Christmas. Why? You didn’t know. Because you were an idiot.

Sophia wrinkled her nose. “Nothing is really keeping me here for it, honestly.”

“I’m just-- you’re okay with dogs, right?” You asked as you pointed the camera at your puppy, honestly you had lied, Tommy was the love of your life. A young pug who loved to follow you around. “Because little Tommy here is going to miss me.”

She smiled at him. “I’d love to take care of… did you say…”She tried not to laugh. “l-little Tommy?”

You grinned as you hugged the dog close. “Yeah, his name is Tom. He’s the only male that matters.”

“Oh, I love that. I would love to trade Tom’s with you,” she chuckled.

Oh god, why didn’t she see it?

“As long as I don’t have to feed that one,” you chuckled.

“I do hope that you don’t have to, he seems somewhat capable of caring for himself,” she grinned. “Oh, by the way. He’ll be running my shop for me while I’m away, sometimes he stays later for work so if you hear him downstairs don’t worry.”

Of course he was, he was in love with her. You chuckled and then started to actually look for flights. “I probably won’t notice, honestly…” You scrolled through the flights and there was one. “Okay so here’s a flight, can you believe there’s actually one for tomorrow?”

She probably was looking for flights. “I found one too, shockingly enough… Are we really going through with this?”

Were you?

You were excited, scared but excited. “I think we are.”

“Well, alright then… “ She seemed to be rational yet.

“On three then….?” You asked, knowing this decision would probably change your entire life, not sure why. BUt you had a feeling that this was either the worst decision you’d ever made or the best one. This was the so-needed break you needed, you needed to breathe, and this was the perfect way to do so. Yes, this was unplanned and this was mysterious but this was what you needed an irrational decision.

“One…”She started.

“Two…”

“Three!” You said at the same time.

You’d bought the ticket. There was no going back now. You were going to London to a Stranger’s house for the Holidays.

sophia’s version <- REMEMBER TO READ TO KNOW WHAT’S UP WITH TOM. 

story masterlist.

next chapter

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