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jane-fucking-seymour · 5 years ago

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Dancing In The Dark

It had been years since Six the Musical went dark.

The queens had since moved on with their lives:

Catherine had finally gone back home. The oldest queen took the funds given to her by the Spanish government and settled back in her home from way back when, unrecognizable at first but eventually found to be familiar. She had intended to live alone, not wanting to influence anyone else’s decisions about the next chapter in their lives, but of course Maria refused to be anywhere else but her mistress’ side. Catherine Parr, somewhat surprisingly, joined her, and the trio settled down in a comfortable estate and started up their own non-profit to help combat illiteracy for womxn around the world.

Anne Boleyn had immediately approached Maggie to live with her in France, offering her a chance to start up a new type of performance art: livestreaming on Twitch and posting blogs on YouTube. The duo became wildly popular online, filming anything from travel blogs to personal monologues to wacky edits that went viral as soon as they were published. Anne also worked closely with women’s shelters to help women affected by domestic violence get back on their feet.

Surprisingly, Anne and Maggie were not alone in the neighborhood: right next door was Jane Seymour and Joan Muertas, with some of the most successful baking and craft videos on the internet. Jane had expressed an interest in leaving England altogether long before the show ended, and once it did, she jumped at the opportunity to go anywhere but there. Anne and Jane’s friendship had come a long way since the start, and now the two were constantly collaborating, constantly working together as much as possible, the unstoppable duo of the internet being able to support themselves, their ladies, and their shared need to support women’s shelters.

Anna of Cleves had, naturally, been one of the more adventurous queens post-show, taking Bessie with her on a trip around the world before they both settled down in Germany. Bessie became Anna’s executive assistant at her fashion company, which was dedicated to creating fashionable wardrobes for womxn of all shapes, sizes, and budgets. Their company grew to become one of the most successful brands in the world, and Anna found herself sitting on a throne of her own making.

This left the fifth queen, Katherine Howard, who had decided to do something surprising: not only to stay in London, but to work at the Tower of London, of all places. At first, the other queens objected, and all offered (some begged) Katherine to come with them elsewhere. Katherine, though, always felt a pull to her death place, always felt connected to it ever since she returned. She had decided that it was where she belonged, morbidly enough, and she strived to not only overcome her fears, but to help others do so as well. She told her story to the world as the most popular tour guide in the Tower and then campaigned to strengthen laws and regulations regarding sexual assault and child exploitation, helping children around the world to never be in the place she once was. She became a beacon of hope for many around the world, dedicating her life to the cause with the Tower of London now her home away from home.

This led to present day, where Katherine was getting ready for the biggest fundraising gala of the year: the Howard Banquet.

The Howard Banquet was named after Katherine herself, who would bring in hundreds of millions of dollars to be split amongst charities worldwide. It took up much of her attention for the past few months to plan the yearly event, with celebrities and the best of people invited to celebrate the importance of the charities involved and to help campaign for better and more accessible resources around the world. It was to be done at the Pavilion at the Tower of London, as it always was, as a nod to Katherine’s own history.

The red carpet was set out and Katherine was the first to enter the building, going through the press line and meeting with some board of directors. Her flowing dark pink dress was a highlight, and she smiled brightly as she explained it was made by Cleves Designs, per usual. As she continued into the venue, her friends from the Tower of London soon joined her, and the party started.

She was enjoying herself on the dance floor when she suddenly stops, feeling… weird. Something in the back of her head was telling her to look around, that something was there… and sure enough, there was.

A woman in a dark yellow and black dress walked through the outskirts of the dancing, and Katherine barely saw her. Her hair was up in her signature ponytail, though, curly locks bouncing as she tried to swiftly move through the crowd. Even with the darkened room and strobe lights, Katherine saw the girl look for her out of the corner of her eye, eyes widen, then try to move faster through the crowd, towards the open bar.

Target acquired.

Katherine instantly was on the move, going straight past everyone else, ignoring the questioning calls from her friends as she beelined straight to the accelerating person. Just before the girl turned a corner, Katherine was suddenly in front of her, narrowing her eyes.

“... Maria?”

Maria de Salinas was trying to look everywhere but Katherine at the moment, even though she was cornered. She looked to her left, and Katherine followed. She looked to her right, Katherine moved right into her eyeline. Finally, Maria simply decided to look at the corner, and Katherine actually wedged herself between the wall and Maria to get the girl to look at her.

“Maria!!!” Katherine says, smiling brightly. “Come on, I know you can see me!”

Maria sighed, shaking her head, before she looked right at Katherine.

“Ohhh, Katherine!” She says, giving a small smile. “Fancy seeing you here!”

“Yeah-huh,” Katherine replies, raising an eyebrow and not at all hiding the smirk on her face. “In my own gala? That is named after me?”

Maria scrambles for an answer.

“Funny coincidence, eh?”

Katherine stares at her for a moment more before throwing herself into Maria’s arms. Maria laughs, holding her tightly, swinging her around before Katherine continues to talk, not letting go of Kat’s hands.

“Why are you here?!?” Katherine asks. “Did they ask you to perform? They didn’t tell me the singing list, that wasn’t my department this year, but-”

“Shh, Kat, no I’m not part of the band,” Maria replies. “I’m just here.”

Katherine tilts her head. “Alone?”

Maria blinks. “Yeah.”

Katherine narrows her eyes again. “No, you’re not.”

Maria raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Yeah.”

“You callin’ me a liar, Kitty-Kat?”

“Where is she?”

“Dunno who you’re talking about, babes.”

Katherine is still not buying it.

“You’re never too far apart, she’s definitely here.”

“Who?”

“Catherine!”

“Don’t know anyone by that name, nope.”

“Wot?!?” Katherine asks, and Maria laughs loudly.

“Listen, even if I knew where they were-”

But Maria realizes her mistake too late.

“THEY?!?” Katherine yells, so loudly it’s clear over the music and everyone stares. “THEY are here?!?”

Maria definitely realizes that she had said too much, and she mock-zips up her lips and refuses to budge afterwards, winking at the girl before rushing off. Katherine tries to follow, but Maria is lost in the crowd.

Kat huffs, annoyed, but not deterred.

She knows that Maria was headed towards the tables, so she casually wanders over there, trying to look the least suspicious possible. She sees Maria lock eyes with her across the way, then heads back towards the bar…

… but that doesn’t make sense, considering the lady was going for a drink, she assumes for Catherine and Cathy. Maria is definitely leading her astray.

With a smirk, Katherine takes her phone out and texts Cathy:

[Text: Parr] I know you’re here.

Katherine scans the room, waiting to see if there’s anyone around that opens their phone. She looks around long enough to get a reply:

[Text: Parr] Not sure what you mean, babes.

Katherine scoffs at that; she’s definitely here. No way she’s not.

She wanders around the table section, keeping a close eye on who is sitting and her surroundings: there’s not much rhyme or reason to the people around her, so she goes one by one, looking for anything

There’s a person in a tux.

There’s the host of the evening.

There’s a guy with a service dog.

There’s eight women with their backs turned to her trying to avoid being caught.

There’s a group of women from the shelter.

There’s a family receiving an award tonight.

There’s-

Wait.

She goes back to the third from last group, narrowing her eyes once again. There’s a woman in a gorgeous dark yellow dress, similar to Maria’s but a bit more lavish, golden jewelry complimenting the outfit. There’s a woman in a long, green dress, sleeves included. There’s a third woman in a black and white jumpsuit. There’s a fourth woman in a maroon tux. There’s a fifth woman in a blue suit. And finally, there are three women in dresses similar to the one in green, the one in black and white, and the one in red.

And all of them are absolutely refusing to look in any direction.

Again, the girl makes a beeline towards her target, avoiding even Maria’s call. When she gets close, she can hear them talking.

“Do you think she saw us?” Asks the girl in blue.

“I doubt it, there’s so many people here,” the woman in yellow says.

“I don’t know, she already caught Maria, I bet she’s definitely looking for Catherine,” says the woman in red.

“Maybe we should huddle up around her?” the one in black and white asks. “Might be easier to hide you.”

Katherine steps up and gently pushes her way into the group.

“Yeah, that might work,” Katherine says, as calmly as possible. “Maybe you should just call Maria back, might work.”

“Good idea, Kit-” the green dress lady says, but then she gasps.

The collective scream from the queens and ladies in the circle is enough to shock everyone around them.

Katherine is instantly embraced by the queens, laughing as they all take turns saying hello. She can barely speak with how excited she is, bouncing on her toes as she talks excitedly.

“You’re all here?!?” she asks, bouncing more and more and more. “Why are you all here?!?”

“We were invited,” Jane replies with a massive grin. “By your foundation. It was supposed to be a surprise, but, well…” Jane shrugs.

Maria happens upon them then, sighing playfully before she gently puts a hand on Katherine’s shoulder, causing Katherine to moreso bounce faster but not as big as before in place.

“I’m sorry, I thought I could sneak past her,” Maria says with a chuckle. “She’s too good at this.”

“I just! It’s been forever since last, and I miss you all, and-!” Katherine says, right before she goes for another hug to the most close person - Maggie this time, who welcomes the affection. “I missed you all a lot.”

Jane gently brings her girl into another hug. “We all missed you, too. And it was great fun catching up with everyone.”

Katherine nods happily, smiling so widely her face hurts.

The rest of the evening, Katherine is never far away from her queens and ladies, dancing the night away. Even during the performances and the awards and the speeches, Katherine is arm in arm with at least one queen, clearly showing how much she missed them.

Towards the end of the night, Katherine and the others are outside, taking a breather in the warm night air, the Tower of London now a comforting sight behind them.

“So, when’s the next time you lot will be around my neck of the woods?” Katherine asks, sipping on a glass of wine.

“Well, actually-” Maria starts, but Joan picks up.

“Jane and I are here for the next week,” she replies.

“Oh! Would you look at that?” Bessie says, looking at her smirking queen. “We’re the same.”

“Snap,” Maggie replies. “Anne and I are here for that long, too.”

“And us!” Maria finally gets in. “Cathy, Catalina and I are hanging out for the week.”

Katherine’s jaw straight drops.

“You’re… you’re all here? For the week?”

When they nod… well, Katherine tears up.

“Oh, love, I’m sorry,” Anna says, grabbing a napkin to help Katherine dry her eyes. “Is that too much?”

Jane is immediately at her side, a hand on her girl’s back, but when Katherine looks up, she’s smiling. They’re happy tears.

“I just! It’s been forever, and now I have you lot for the full week!” Katherine says, laughing loudly. “I just… I love you guys, you know that right?”

“Awww, Kit!” Anne says, moving to hug her cousin. “It’s okay. We’re here for the next week. For whatever you want.”

Katherine smiles brightly, nodding happily.

“I think this’ll be the best week ever!”

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let-it-raines · 6 years ago

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Striking Out (1/1)

For someone who has never picked up a bat, Emma Swan knows more about baseball than some of the guys on the field. To be fair, she’s that way with every sport. It’s her job, and it’s one she takes seriously. She’s been an on-air sports broadcaster for the past four years, and she’s damn good at it, better than some of the former professionals and pundits that she works with every day.

So when she gets a chance to cover the World Series, a chance to follow her home team, she knows that nothing is going to stop her from doing her job.

Well, except for Killian Jones asking her out on live television.

Rating: Teen

A/N: For @wellhellotragic who sends me the most wonderful prompts that are usually much fluffier than the things she writes...I think I’ve just given away her greatest secret 😉💙

Found on AO3 | Here |

Tag list: @ultraluckycatnd @ultimiflos @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @shireness-says @captainsjedi @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @andiirivera @superchocovian @cs-forlife @qualitycoffeethings @notoriouscs @mariakov81 @jonirobinson64 @bmbbcs4evr @thejollyroger-writer @lifeinahole27 @galaxyzxstark @idristardis

-/-

The video restarts, and she presses play again, watching it for what has to be the tenth time tonight. Or this morning, really, since she knows that it’s three in the morning, the sun long since set, and her eyes have been glued to her laptop ever since she got back to her hotel room.

Sleep would probably be a good idea right now, but she can’t seem to stop watching herself barely keep her shit together while on National television.

Seriously.

National television.

She’s going to murder Killian Jones, and she doesn’t even care if that’ll get her on TV for reasons entirely separate from her job.

“Killian,” she starts, holding the microphone to her mouth as she speaks and Killian wipes the sweat from his brow, pushing back his long hair before placing the World Series Champion cap back on top of his head, a bright white smile between his lips, “you hit the home run that brought the Yankees to their win. You’ve had an incredible season, an even more incredible post-season. How is it all feeling right now?”

His grin somehow gets impossibly bigger, the lines around his eyes crinkling, and she recognizes the look in his eyes like she always does. She’s been interviewing him for three years now and following his career around long before she’d actually met him through work, so she recognizes a lot of his mannerisms. It’s odd for her to know every career statistic that he has, to know about all of the publicity about his private life, and yet to have only talked to him while he stands on a field sweating under the glow of stadium lights or in the dimness of the locker room.

But that’s her job. She’s a reporter for ESPN, which is pretty damn awesome, and unlike a lot of people she works with, she actually likes to know what she’s talking about. She’s not a former athlete, not some kind of all star with household recognition, and she’s a woman. Those three facts make her life impossibly harder, and if there’s anything she’s learned in her nine years working here, it’s that for every step that one of her male colleagues takes, she has to take ten. It’s idiotic, sexist, and all around wrong, but if she’s on TV spouting out facts that are incorrect, there’s twenty thousand men at home tweeting her and the network telling them to get the “dumb bitch” off their TVs.

Charming, right?

But it’s her reality. Most people only care about how she looks, about how her ass looks in a skirt, but that’s not what she cares about.

(Even if she has a good ass.)

She cares about the game.

And anyone who cares about baseball, cares about Killian Jones.

He reaches up to scratch behind his ear, which is a tick of sorts that she’s noticed, before he leans into the microphone. “Right now, it’s pretty unbelievable. It hasn’t sunk in yet, not really, but I’m happy to be here wearing this hat, having the trophy. It’s been a long road for me personally, for the team, and I’m in a bit of euphoria over it all.”

“How in the world are you not burning alive?” Ruby says in her earpiece, and she has to keep herself from rolling her eyes with the forced smile on her face. “He’s so hot. And I can’t even see his ass.”

Her producer being her best friend is both the best and worst thing to ever happen to her.

“I bet,” she says to Killian, looking up in the blue of his eyes as chants start to ring out across the stadium. Ruby won’t stop talking in her ear, and that’s definitely something the two of them are going to talk about later. “You had a bit of a rocky beginning to the season with your injury from last year, so how’s that arm feeling?”

“Good as new.”

“Perfect, it looked like.”

Even under his hat she can see the rise of his brow. “You been looking at my arms then, love?”

He is such a flirt. It’s ridiculous. At least he’s not one of the creepy ones. She gets it a lot as a part of her job and the general state of men, but she’s thankful for the fact that Jones never crosses the line. And she’s watched his interviews. He seems to simply be a flirt naturally, no trying necessary.

“Me and a couple million other people.”

He barks out a laugh, his head thrown back a bit, and she can see the sharp underside of his stubbled jaw. “Well, my sister-in-law tells me most people are looking at my ass, so that’s kind of a relief.”

“Oh my God,” Ruby groans, “there are so many things you could say. But don’t. Ask him one more question.”

“So, Killian Jones, World Series Champion and MVP, now that you’ve done something every baseball player dreams of, is there anything else that you want to do?”

His mouth snaps closed, his teeth disappearing in exchange of a closed lip smile, and he tilts his head to the side while his eyes flicker up and down her face, very obviously scrutinizing her before his lips part once more.

“Yeah,” he says, adjusting his hat, “I think I’d like to go on a date with you. What do you say, Swan? You want to go out on a date with me?”

“Emma Swan,” Ruby grits, her voice yelling in Emma’s ear, “if you do not say yes, I will lock you out of the apartment. Think of the ratings.”

Later, she’s definitely going to talk to Ruby about sexual harassment. Not that this is what that is. She could say no. Yeah, he asked her on live television. That’s kind of dickish. But he’s not forcing her into it. Ruby might be, but that’s an issue for another time. Right now her issue is that she kind of feels like both vomiting on Killian’s shoes and punching him in the stomach for putting her on the spot like this.

Three years of interviewing him, and this is what he’s going to do.

No part of it surprises her.

“Yes.”

The video has three million views, and every time she refreshes it, there are more. She’s gained fifty thousand followers on Twitter, about the same on Instagram, and she had to turn all of her notifications off because her phone was literally going to shut itself down. She once tried living off of Tom Brady’s diet for a week, but this is the craziest thing she’s ever experienced.

This is not how her day was supposed to go. Not at all.

She needs, like, an entire bottle of wine and whatever the most expensive thing on the room service menu is. But she doesn’t have that. All she has are texts from Ruby.

Ruby: Are you still mad at me?

Emma: I am literally a meme online.

Ruby: So what does that mean?

Emma: You owe me big time. I can’t believe he asked me out.

Ruby: You’re hot. I’d ask you out.

Emma: That’s not helping.

Ruby: I wasn’t trying to. You could have said no.

Emma: You threatened to lock me out of the apartment!

Ruby: Semantics.

Ruby: Our ratings today were incredible. That’s because of you.

Emma: That’s because it was the seventh game of the World Series. That has nothing to do with me.

Ruby: Eh, maybe. Have you checked your Twitter?

Emma: I turned it off. Why?

Ruby: Your lover retweeted the video of him asking you out, and added a caption to it. Go check it out, but please don’t go nuclear on him. You cannot kill someone.

Emma: I can when they ask me out knowing I can’t say no.

Ruby: KJ is literally the nicest guy in that locker room. He’s flirty, but he would go to the ends of the earth to make anyone feel comfortable. He’s the reason you get to go into the locker room in the first place. You know that, right? Most teams are still full of sexist pigs.

Emma: What? He gives me access to a bunch of sweaty men and because of that I have to sleep with him? That’s regressing women by…a lot.

Ruby: Literally, you don’t even have to go on the date. You know that, right?

Ruby: Eat a Snickers. You’re not you when you’re hungry. I don’t want you to be pissed.

Emma: I’m not pissed...anymore. I’m just confused. Why would he ask me out like that?

Ruby: Again, you’re hot. And you guys literally flirt all of the time on camera. Apparently, people have noticed.

Emma: We do not, and if you suggest that again, I will come to your hotel room and wake Graham up so that you’re stuck with him being grumpy all day tomorrow.

Ruby: Go eat that Snickers.

Her best friend may very well be the most ridiculous person in the world, but Emma loves her. She really does. Ruby is definitely a little more on the wild, unfiltered side than she is, but honestly, that makes everything all the more entertaining. And she knows that she’s right about the whole date thing. She could have said no, she doesn’t have to go, and this is something that will blow over in a few days time. Everything has the possibility to go viral now, but it always goes away and fades into oblivion. And literally, she doesn’t have to do anything she doesn’t want to. She’s an adult. She’s not going to put up with any kind of shit, and that includes being goaded into a date with Killian Jones.

…even if they may or may not have flirted with each other on and off for a few years.

But he flirts with everyone. It’s just how he is, just how he talks, and that’s what she tells herself every time he says something that’s a little more on the flirty side. That’s what she kept telling herself tonight to keep from raging over her day.

Seriously. She gets the chance as a woman not named Erin Andrews to cover the one of the biggest sporting days in the year, and all anyone can talk about is that she got asked out on a date.

(To be fair, journalistically, she understands that this makes a great story.)

Rolling over on the mattress and sinking into the plush cushions, she opens up her twitter app, her notifications flooded to the point where she gives up scrolling through them and goes to Killian’s page, knowing his handle by heart.

(It’s her job, okay?)

@killianjones29: @emmaswanespn How do you feel about pizza? I know a great place back in Manhattan.

“Oh my God,” she mutters to herself, clicking on the replies before quickly clicking out of them. The internet is a very weird place, and she does not need to see all of that.

She loves pizza, but she is not responding to that right now. He probably is out drunk right now celebrating with all of his teammates and whatever girls are around, and she doesn’t have any interest in that.

Not at all.

-/-

The date is all that she hears about at work, especially now that baseball is over for the year and she’s not on air as much as she usually is, mostly sitting behind a desk talking for segments or writing articles online, doing prep work for next season and training and everything else that she has to do. But whenever she tweets, posts a picture, writes an article, does anything with an online presence, her comment section is full of questions about her date with Killian and whether or not it’s happened yet.

BREAKING NEWS: it has not.

But it’s consuming anything she does online and taking over all of the office conversation. Granted, most of that is coming from Ruby and Ashely, but still. It counts.

And it’s going to drive her absolutely insane.

She needs a vacation or something.

Luckily, though, Killian doesn’t tweet her again. He doesn’t message her, doesn’t post a picture of the two of them on Instagram. It’s all radio silence on his end, and she chalks the entire thing up to a rush of adrenaline. He’d just won the World Series. If she had done that, she’d be asking everyone out left and right.

Well, not everyone, but a lot more people than usual.

“Are we out of milk?” Graham asks, staring into the refrigerator and very obviously seeing that they’re out of milk. “When did that happen?”

She holds up her bowl of cereal in answer. “I’m not working today, so I’ll go get some more groceries. You can leave me a list before you go to work, okay?”

He grumbles something in response, not that she can really hear over the crunch of her cereal. She loves Graham. She really and truly does, but living with Ruby and her boyfriend is definitely an adjustment to living with just Ruby. But hey, rent is cheaper, so it all works out in the end, especially when Graham cooks more than anyone else in the apartment.

“Emma Swan,” Ruby yells from her bedroom, her voice only muted because of the walls in between them. Emma doesn’t bother saying something back, knowing that Ruby is about to run into the living room and yell at her for whatever it is she’s upset about. Sure enough, not thirty seconds later, Ruby is sliding across the hardwood in her socks with her laptop in her hands until she unceremoniously plops down onto the couch, nearly making Emma spill her cheerios. “Did you see this?”

“Did I see what?”

Ruby shoves her laptop into her lap, and Emma groans before she hands off her cereal to Ruby, knowing that she’s most likely going to finish it off for her anyways. It’s a video, one paused on Kelly Rippa’s face, and she has no idea why Ruby is freaking out until she presses play and sees the video transition over to Killian Jones himself sitting on one of those barstools in a light blue checkered button down that hugs his arms and dark navy pants that make her think thoughts that she usually reserves for late at night when she’s either by herself or with someone that she met at the bar.

(And, if she’s honest, at some baseball games. The pants really work for some men.)

“So,” Kelly continues, a bright smile on her face as her hands move around, “we know all about you being a baseball star and that your biggest fans are your nieces, which is adorable by the way. But what we don’t know is about your love life. And a handsome man like you has to have a love life.”

Blush rises on his cheeks, and he does that nervous tick thing where he scratches behind is ear. If the opposing team could read Killian Jones like she can, they would win almost every game. Maybe that’s a career opportunity if broadcasting doesn’t work out for her.

“Ah, well, you’d be surprised. There are only so many women out there like you, Kelly.”

Kelly absolutely beams, laughing a big, belly laugh, and Ryan Seacrest leans forward on his chair. Seriously, how many jobs does this guy have? When does he sleep?

“What about the interviewer that you asked out? Emma Swan? That didn’t go anywhere?”

The crowd cheers, and she sinks down on the couch, finally understanding why Ruby is showing her this video. When she glances to the side, Ruby has a shit-eating grin on her face, and Graham is peering over their shoulders.

She’s going to move cities and live alone or something. Then she wouldn’t have to deal with this.

“Ah, if I’m honest, no. It was bad form to have asked her out on the spot like that, but the adrenaline pumping through my veins had me a little out of my mind. She’s a, well, I work with Emma a lot. She’s bloody brilliant, knows my game better than I do. Hell, she knows everyone’s game better than they do. And I fancy her a little and maybe didn’t think too much about the implications of asking her out on TV, so I honestly feel like I need to reach out to her and apologize.”

“He fancies you,” Graham teases, and if she could reach him, she’d slap him.

“That’s actually kind of sweet” Ruby sighs, “and not as asshole misogynistic as you thought it was.”

“I’m still not going out with him even if he obviously has taste in knowing that I’m brilliant.”

“Yeah, well,” Ruby shrugs, “he’d have to be blind not to realize that.”

-/-

“I want you to go out on a date with Jones.”

At the sound of the words, she immediately tosses her head down onto her desk, unable to stop herself. It’s been four and half months since the now infamous question was asked to her live on air, and while it did eventually die down, it’s never quite stopped. And maybe she’s annoyed by it, maybe she’s not really because her social media engagement has increased tenfold since then which helps a lot with work, but mostly she wants for it all to go away so that she doesn’t have to deal with it until she flies down to Florida for spring training in two weeks.

“No.”

“Emma,” David scolds, and she only opens one eye to look up at him from her desk, her picture frames and cup of pens in her way. He’s got his hands on his hips, which intimidates literally everyone in the office but her, so she knows that he means business.

“David.”

“It’s not a real date.” She opens her mouth to say something, and he holds his finger up, effectively making her press her lips together as she props her chin up on her forearm. “And don’t say it’s sexist to make you do this. If the man asked me out on a date, I’d go.”

“You’re married. To a woman, I might add.”

David chuckles at her before sitting down in the chair across from her desk, crossing his leg over his knee and looking at her with that disapproving gaze that makes her feel more like his daughter than his employee.

“You obviously don’t have to do this. This isn’t a mandatory assignment, but I’ve been talking with some of the higher ups about how to increase our coverage. You’re one of our most current and in demand on-air talents, and we get more views and clicks talking about you and Jones than anything else. It’s entertainment, Emma. Him asking you out was a huge thing, and instead of you going on an actual date with him, we’ve talked to his manager and asked if he’d be willing to do some type of interview.”

She raises her brow. “What kind of interview?”

“You fly to Florida, do some of your regular coverage of the team and of some of the others, but then you spend a day with a small production team and Jones, letting him walk you through a day in the life when they’re prepping for the season. We have it be a big segment, you get paid, there’s more exposure, we ride on the Swan-Jones media exposure that we’ve been getting before it goes away.”

“Nice to know you’re just using me.”

David shrugs his shoulders before he leans forward to take a peppermint out of the bowl on her desk, the plastic crinkling as he opens the package and pops the peppermint in his mouth. “Again, you don’t have to do it, but you have to admit that it’s a great idea. You’re breaking barriers every time you work a baseball game. One day you could get your own show, be a commentator, do whatever you want. This will help.”

It’s true. She knows that it is. It’s actually a great idea. She could do a version of Vogue’s seventy-three questions, not that she could think of that many, and it would give her the opportunity to boost her own career as well as Killian’s. Yeah, she’d have to talk to him again, but it’s probably better for it to be behind the scenes (and in front of the camera obviously) than be sprung onto the field and forced to talk to him with a camera streaming live television two feet from her face.

Can she damn herself for actually wanting to do this for her career?

And maybe so the questions and comments about the date that never even happened will stop. Killian Jones is a fascinating guy with a damn good story. How bad can this be?

-/-

Florida is a swampy wasteland, and the humidity is going to kill her. New York can be bad. She knows this. She’s experienced it for most of her life. Sometimes she has to shower multiple times in one day simply from walking outside, but she can feel the humidity seeping into her skin the moment she steps out of the car and onto the pavement in front of Steinbrenner Field.

Of course, she knows this about the weather. She comes down here every year, but there’s something particularly miserable about the weather today. She knows that it’s supposed to rain tomorrow, that the water and humidity are hanging heavily in the air, but she literally already has sweat dripping down her back underneath her blouse.

If she was allowed to wear her gym shorts and a sports bra and nothing else to work, she totally would. That would be highly inappropriate and likely get her fired or have her demeaned online, but it honestly might be worth it to handle the heat that’s happening right now. And if Jeff’s grumbling is anything to go by, he’s feeling the heat too. Considering he’s wearing jeans and a long-sleeved shirt with camera equipment slung over his shoulder, he most likely is going to pass out today.

It’s March.

How the hell do people live here during the summer?

After letting Jeff get a few exterior shots of the complex for B-roll footage, they walk through the front doors and ask a receptionist where to sign in to get their credentials and approval to get into the locker room and out on the field. It takes far longer than it should for that to happen considering the receptionist, a snippy older lady, doesn’t believe they’re there for legit reasons, but after she calls one of the Yankees team managers, they finally get approval to walk through a set of glass double doors and down a hallway lined with framed jerseys of legends of the past, Jeff filming the walk and making her slow down every few seconds even though she’s already thinking that she’ll have Killian walk through the halls while they talk since it’ll be nice backdrop.

She’s a fan of the West Wing style interview.

If she’s not walking, she’s not talking.

Okay, that’s a cheesy motto, but it tends to work when it comes to interviewing. People are more likely to be sincere and to feel comfortable when they have something to focus on other than sitting down in an uncomfortable chair with bright lights beaming down on them. Athletes, especially, are not the type to want to sit still unless they absolutely have to.

So West Wing style it is.

“Emma Swan,” a woman with red hair calls, waving her down when she and Jeff come to the end of a hall. She’s dressed in a green suit, which very weirdly works for her, and any woman who can pull off a green pantsuit has her respect. “Hi, hi, hi. I’m so sorry about the confusion up front. That is completely on me for not calling up and telling Loretta. I’m Ariel Fisher. I work in public relations for the team. I spoke with your boss on the phone. I can’t believe we’ve never met before.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” She reaches forward to take Ariel’s hand, shaking it three times before releasing it and motioning to Jeff. “This is Jeff Madden. He’s my one-man crew for the day.”

“Pleasure,” Jeff grunts, not really one for words when it comes to new people.

“So,” Ariel claps, “I’ve got a bit of a busy day today, but now that you have your credentials, if you go down the stairs and to the left, you’ll find the locker room. The team is in the gym right now, so feel free to get some footage. I think Killian should be with you within thirty minutes or so. If you need anything at all,” she hands over a card, “call me. But I think you’ll be just fine. Killian is too excited to do this interview, which I think is funny since he’s usually not one for such personal interviews. I think he nearly murdered me when I had him go on all of those morning talk shows.”

Ariel’s phone beeps, she looks down at it, immediately picks it up, and then walks away, her heels clacking against the tile before she disappears behind another door.

“Well she’s a talker,” Jeff whines as they start toward the staircase, looking out the windows at the field. It’s not Yankee Stadium, but it’s always so impressive. The view from inside the facility may be even better. Maybe she can get players from all of the teams to ask her out so she can get this kind of access everywhere. Is that weird? Or wrong? It might be wrong.

“Everyone is a talker to you.”

“True.”

When they walk in the locker room, she immediately notices the similarities to the one at home. It’s basically a replica with its deep blue carpets and chestnut lockers, leather chairs sitting in the middle over the logo with television screens placed throughout that the room. She’d bet that the door to the left leads to the physical therapy rooms while the one to the right leads to the gym, and the one at the opposite end is definitely the showers. It makes sense to keep things the same, but it makes her laugh a bit since it’s going to make their footage the slightest bit confusing.

Whatever. She’s not really here for the background footage.

That makes it sound like she’s here for Killian, and while that’s technically true, she’s here for the baseball.

It’s always been baseball.

Really, it’s always been any sport. She couldn’t play most of them growing up, not outside of school anyway, but no matter what foster home she was living in, she could always find a baseball game or a tennis match or even a swim meet. And all over the country, all over the world (even with a few changes there, especially in regards to what sports are played), sports are the same. Her life was always in upheaval, never feeling steady, but she could watch people hit the balls out of the stadiums every day and feel that comfort of knowing that it’d be the same tomorrow when she could never have that reassurance anywhere else.

For someone who could never afford to play anything, she’s always felt like someone who was destined to be a part of the team.

Meeting David Nolan was obviously some kind of fate to make that happen because this is never how she imagined her life at any age, especially not as young as twenty-seven.

A set of doors to the right opens, and all of the sudden the peace and quiet of the locker room evaporates to be filled with the sound of feet against carpet and voices bouncing back and forth as the team walks into the room, all of them drenched in sweat, the smell already reaching her nostrils. It’s a hazard of the job, but she’s kind of used to it at this point.

Most of the team knows her, having met her before or simply recognizing her since she travels to nearly every one of their games to cover them, so it’s a string of nods and short greetings before they all branch off to their lockers or the showers, the door finally closing behind the man she was waiting for.

In a totally professional sense.

Killian walks next to Robin Locksley, the two of them chatting about something, but she doesn’t really care or notice when her eyes are glancing over the way that his gray joggers hug the muscles of his thighs as they lay low enough on his hips that she can see the dip of the v into his pants and the trail of dark hair that leads…that is an entirely inappropriate thought, one that could get her fired, so even as her body hums, she looks up his body, attempting to ignore the muscles of his stomach and his arms (seriously, where is his shirt?) and look directly at his face.

His face doesn’t exactly help to make her thoughts disappear.

He’s gotten a haircut since the last time that she saw him, and while she’ll miss the long hair, she kind of likes the short cut and the few pieces of fringe that are falling onto his tanned forehead. And even if his hair is shorter, his beard is slightly longer, but not in a gross way where food would get caught in it.

(She has a lot of opinions about beards like that, okay?)

“Pick your jaw up from the ground,” Jeff whispers into her ear as he nudges her shoulder.

Her mouth snaps closed, and she has that lingering thought of how much shit Jeff is going to give her for this later. He’s not a talker to others, but man does he love to mess with her.

“Swan!” Killian says as he smiles a beatific smile at her, his step quickening a bit before he’s standing in front of her and taking her hand, shaking it once before bringing it to his lips. That is…not a handshake. “Good to see you. I figured you were going to stand me up.”

“Yeah, well, I get paid to be here.”

“Funnily enough, so do I.” He winks at her, and her stomach twists. This job is so strange. “I need to take a quick shower, but then I’ll be all ready to go for the interview. This is our free time, so I’ll try to hurry.”

“Take your time. I have to spend all day with you. I don’t want you to smell.”

Killian’s brow raises, but he doesn’t say anything else, simply smiling at her before walking away and back through the doors she thought would lead to the showers. Wow, it really is the exact same.

“Do you want something to eat, Emma?” Robin asks her as he sheds his shirt before changing into a t-shirt that looks like it’s from his days at Vanderbilt. “We’ll have lunch soon, but we have snacks.”

“Are they donuts?”

“No,” he laughs, sitting down in his locker, “they’re not. Someone should have prepared knowing that you’re going to be here.”

“Damn right. How’s Roland? Still adorable?”

“Absolutely. He’s back home with his mom, but I get calls every day asking about when I’ll be playing back home instead of here.”

“I want to know the same, kid. It’s so hot down here.”

“It is pretty miserable.” Robin reaches down to undo his shoes, loosening the laces. “So, are you and Jones going on that date for this interview?”

She groans, unable to help herself. Robin is one of her favorite players, mostly because he’s a fantastic human being, but knowing him so well also means that he likes to tease her. It’s the same with Will, Arthur…Killian. But Robin feels more like David, like a fatherly figure, than any of the others.

“Am I ever going to live that down?”

“Never. But if it helps, we all gave Killian hell for that.”

“Yeah,” she sighs, “that helps a lot.”

“Alright, Swan,” Killian claps when he comes out of the showers dressed in a pair of blue joggers and a fitted gray t-shirt, his feet still bare and hair still wet, “let’s talk.”

-/-

“Favorite player growing up?”

“Chipper Jones.”

“Because he had the same last name as you?”

“Exactly.”

“Of course. Okay, favorite cheat day dessert?”

“Cheesecake but one with fruit flavoring. Chocolate isn’t my favorite.”

“What are you most likely to be doing on an off day?”

“Either sitting on my ass watching TV or spending time with my family.”

“Sport you like to watch the most besides baseball?”

“Tennis.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I like the physicality of it and the strategy behind it.”

“Do you have a secret talent no one else knows about?”

“I can quote the entire Soup Nazi episode of Seinfeld.”

Emma can’t help but chuckle at that considering it’s one of her favorite episodes of TV of all time. She can’t help but chuckle at a lot of his answers. They’ve been slowly walking through the facility for the past thirty minutes, and she’s been asking him questions off of her list to try to get to know him a bit better. For the interview, obviously. Some of the first ones were about baseball, things that she knows but her viewers might not, but then they melded into questions about favorite junk foods and movies and whether or not he washes his pants every day or if he simply buys a new pair since they’re always so damn white.

It’s entirely comfortable, especially since the date has not been brought up, and she finds herself laughing at some of his answers, at the ease and charm and cheekiness that comes with it all. She may have been reluctant to do this, but she can already tell that this is going to be a great segment.

“Okay,” she laughs, still unable to stop chuckling at the thought of him quoting that entire episode, “what would you do for a living if you didn’t play baseball?”

“I was going to enlist in the Navy.”

She’s taken back by the immediate answer and the somber way that he says it. This is very obviously something that he didn’t have to think about.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs, only one side of his lips forming a smile that makes him seem entirely boyish. “I didn’t have a lot of money growing up, and I couldn’t afford to go to college. My brother was in the Navy, so it felt like the natural conclusion for me. But then Vandy gave me that scholarship, and my entire life changed.”

“You met Locksley there, right?”

“He was a senior when I was a freshman, but yeah. We roomed together at a summer training camp, and apparently not much has changed since then.”

She laughs at that too before looking down at her phone at her list of questions, trying to decide what she wants to ask now. So many of them are dumb and playful, but she’s not entirely sure that she wants to ask him what his favorite color is.

“So, you’re twenty-eight and a World Series champion for the first time. That’s the ultimate baseball dream. How does that change expectations going forward? Has your life changed at all since then?”

Killian hums next to her and stops in front of a set of floor-to-ceiling windows with the field behind him, fresh green grass vibrant against the bright sun. It’s pretty much the perfect picture.

“Well, for one, I haven’t had a date with you.” She rolls her eyes even as she smiles. She should have known he’d say that, and from the smile on his face, he’s proud of himself. “But I don’t think my life has changed. It’s incredible to have that accomplishment, for sure. I’m proud of my team and what we’ve done. But I still wake up and put the work in every day and then spend my free time with my friends, my family. I like being a normal guy. The only reason anyone knows who I am is because I know how to hit a ball with a bat. It doesn’t make me special.”

“And going forward?” she prods, letting his answer settle within her while still trying to get a little more out of Killian.

He smiles that million-dollar grin before turning around to look out at the field, his hand pressing against the glass. “I want to play the game. I want to have fun and be competitive. Breaking my arm two years ago, not being able to play, it put me in a really dark place personally and professionally. The injury wasn’t serious, obviously, but it could have been. The wreck could have been worse, and I could have lost the sport that has really helped develop my life.”

“Have you been back on a boat yet?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, tapping his knuckles against the glass. “It was a freak accident. It’s not something that’s going to happen every time. I doubt I’ll ever be in a boating accident again, but I’ve had to learn that I can’t let fear dictate my life. And I look damn good in a pair of swim trunks.”

It’s a tactic she’s watched him use for years. He jokes in serious conversations, in serious situations, and she gets it. She does the same, but he’s being vulnerable with her and with the camera knowing this is all going to air. She’s getting to see more into the inner mechanisms of how he ticks, and it’s not something she’s going to take for granted.

“I think it’s time to go get lunch,” she tells him to change the subject. “Wouldn’t want you to wither away and lose that boat body.”

“I always knew you liked my body.”

If she rolls her eyes one more time at him, they’re going to get stuck that way.

(She listens to David too much.)

For the rest of the day, she and Jeff are pretty much flies on the wall even though she asks the occasional question to Killian or his teammates as she sits through lunch, batting practice in the cages, batting practice on the field, and more physical therapy and training. It’s a packed day, one without a lot of downtime, and she’s exhausted simply watching it happen. But none of the guys seem to mind, each of them going throughout the day without much complaining, except for Will Scarlett. That’s par for the course for him, though.

But then it’s time for their game. They’re playing the Marlins, and she camps out behind third base to simply watch, her feet propped up in the seat in front of her as she gets to enjoy it all, not having to worry about working or taking notes or preparing questions to ask when the game is all over. It’s been a long time since she actually got to sit and enjoy a game, and it’s remarkably pleasant even if she is sweltering under the heavy humidity, dark storm clouds inching closer and closer with every passing minute. She wouldn’t be surprised if it started pouring down rain within the hour.

It doesn’t, though. The rain holds off until the game is over, until the fans have left, and she’s sitting in the therapy room watching Killian get his legs messaged as she asks him a few final wrap-up questions for the interview. When it’s all over, Killian is walking with her down the hallways to exit the facility, Jeff following behind them still mumbling about how heavy his equipment is.

Seriously.

When they get to the exit, the rain pouring down outside, they both stop in front of the glass doors, Killian dropping his duffle bag to the ground.

“Thanks for today,” she tells him, meaning it. “I really appreciate it since I know it’s all kind of crazy for you guys. I’ve got to edit it, but I think it’ll air right before the first official game.”

“It was no problem, love. I enjoyed it. Truly.” He reaches up to scratch behind his ear. “Listen, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable when I asked you out. That was not my smartest move, and I’ve felt awful about it ever since even if do keep making unfortunate jokes about it.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s – I mean, I was pissed at first, but it’s fine. It was a heat of the moment kind of thing.”

“You were pissed?”

“Oh yeah. Think about it. I’m a woman covering baseball, and I get asked out on live television by one of the most well-known faces in the sport? I have to say yes for ratings. It’s not even a question. And then it opens up the opportunity for more men to think that they can hit on me or ask me out, and before you know it, I’m dating half of the men in the MLB.”

“You’d have a busy calendar.”

“Yeah,” she laughs, shaking her head, “I would. I don’t – I thank you for your apology, but I am curious about one thing. I know you say it was the adrenaline, but what was the real reason you asked me out?”

“Off the record?”

“Off the record.”

“I fancy you.” His lips press into a soft smile, and his eyes crinkle the slightest bit, blue eyes bright under the harsh lights of the room. His eyes are ridiculously blue. “You’re very obviously beautiful, but you’re also brilliant. I’ve watched you work, read your analysis of games. You know the game better than most anyone, and you kick ass showing people that you don’t have to be a former player to love and know the game. That’s always been a pet peeve of mine. Just because you don’t play the game doesn’t mean you can’t love it. And in the spirit of full honesty, I knew it would be the last time I saw you until the new season. I didn’t want to pass that up.”

Oh.

His words make her stomach twist, something unfamiliar and yet familiar all the same even if she hasn’t felt it in a few years, and she’s sure that her heart beating is visible through her shirt. Or maybe Killian can hear it from how loud it is, but really, she’s trying not to think about any of that.

This is not how today was supposed to go.

She’s always known that he was a genuine guy, if not the slightest bit cocky, but damn. She either feels like she just took a ball to the gut or hit a grand slam. She can’t tell.

“Anyways,” he continues, his hand rubbing at his stubble-covered chin, “my plan didn’t exactly work out. If you’re not interested, I sure as hell can’t ask you to be. I can’t wait to see the segment.”

With those words, he opens the door and steps out underneath the covered awning, the rain beating against the metal. She is pretty much glued to the ground, but in a move that she one day knows she is going to chalk up to adrenaline, much like Killian did, she takes the steps out the door to yell down at Killian.

“I’m interested.”

He stops walking and twists around, both brows practically in his hairline. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.” Killian smiles at her. “I’m still willing to take you to that pizza place in Manhattan.”

“What about a pizza place in Tampa?”

“I can do that too.”

After they’ve exchanged numbers, something she still can’t believe she’s doing, Killian walks away to head to his car while she’s left still standing under the awning. Jeff walks up next to her, his shoulder hitting hers, and it’s only then that she remembers that he’s here.

“Dude. You went on for months about how you were not going to date him, and you basically just asked him out.”

“Shut up.”

“I got it on film.”

She reaches back to slap his shoulder, disbelief settling down inside of her. “I hate you.”

“Just trying to document this fairytale romance.”

“You want to come to the pizza place and document that too?”

“Nah,” he sighs, beginning to walk ahead of her. “I don’t need to see that. It’s been bad enough watching you two all day.”

“It was work,” she protests.

“Work with a hell of a lot of flirting. Dinner is on you tonight since you’re getting a free one tomorrow.”

“I could pay on the date. You don’t know.”

“Come on,” he laughs, waving her ahead. “I need you to pull up the car so the camera doesn’t get wet.”

This is a weird day.

-/-

It turns out that she doesn’t have time to go and eat pizza with baseball players who charm her. She and Jeff get assigned to cover other teams and spring training games while they’re in Florida, so she has to text Killian and cancel before traveling throughout the state. It’s disappointing, but it’s kind of a relief. Jeff kept teasing her about it all, which made her second guess everything, and her stomach was beginning to twist and turn in an unpleasant way instead of the small flutters of excitement and anticipation that she felt after she told Killian she was interested.

But work is work, and it’s going to come first. So she sweats (thanks heat) and interviews players from teams she usually doesn’t interact with and films a few segments to air to give everyone a glimpse at spring training. While on the road or on a flight, she works on editing Killian’s interview all while texting back and forth with him, something they seemed to fall into without her realizing it.

And despite the fact that she talks for a living, texting seems to be so much easier.

Killian: Is this entire interview going to be me making strange faces?

She laughs under her breath at his text. She’s taken to sending him bad screenshots of the video because, well, it’s highly entertaining, and the poor man most likely thinks that she’s going to screw over his public persona with these awful little clips.

Emma: You have a very expressive face.

Killian: Where are you today?

Emma: I’m on the plane back to NYC right now. I need to get into the studio to finish this up with some of our legit editors if I want it to air on Thursday.

Killian: It really shouldn’t take so long for you to edit me to be charming.

Emma: It’s a hell of a lot of work. You have no idea.

Killian: Maybe your questions are the problem.

Emma: Shut your mouth. My questions were awesome.

Killian: They were. Are you working the game on Thursday?

Emma: Yep. I’ll be in my little corner. If you hit a home run, maybe I’ll interview you after the game.

Killian: I like that kind of motivation, love.

Emma: Good. I like winners.

They land at JFK an hour before midnight, and it takes a ridiculous amount of time for her Uber to get to her apartment. The hallway lights are all turned off, and it’s a miracle that she doesn’t wake up Ruby or Graham in her quiet tip toeing back to her bedroom, especially when she curses over stubbing her toe on an end table in the hallway. But everything is still quiet, and when she gets to her room, she drops her bag, takes off all of her clothes except her underwear, and then collapses into the mattress, falling asleep almost immediately.

She really missed her bed.

But she doesn’t get to sleep long, her alarm blaring in her ear early the next morning, and she doesn’t bother doing anything but showering and throwing her hair into a tangled bun on top of her head before going into the office and sitting down with the editing team, looking through clips and cutting questions, helping them to decided what transitions and music to use all the while she practically has all ten hours of footage memorized.

There’s a lot of weird clips, most of which come from Jeff trying to be funny. He’s an eclectic guy.

Ruby comes in the room right at the time that everyone is watching her pretty much ask Killian out, and she sinks a little further into her rolling chair hoping to disappear so as not to deal with any of it. But Ruby doesn’t say anything, doesn’t make a quip, doesn’t tease her, and of every weird thing that’s happened, that’s the one she was expecting the least.

Ruby never keeps her mouth shut about anything.

By the time midnight rolls around, she’s got a completely edited video, several clips to post online to her social media, and she’s sent it all off to David and the executives to be approved before airing tomorrow afternoon.

It’s a relief to have it finished, to have another project checked off the list, and she files away all of the video footage into her folder on Killian, which sounds much creepier than it actually is.

Killian: Good luck today!

Emma: Why are you telling me good luck? You’re the one playing a game.

Killian: Your piece is airing. That’s a big deal, Swan.

Emma: It’s really good. You only come off as a slight jackass.

Killian: That’s the ultimate level of jackass.

The snort that escapes her is through no fault of her own, and she tries to stifle it with the throw pillow on the couch.

It obviously doesn’t work.

“So did you ever go on a date with him?” Ruby questions as she swipes red nail polish over her fingernails.

Ah, there’s the question she’s been waiting for.

“Nope.”

“But you’re texting Jones, right?”

“Possibly.”

“Definitely, Ems. I saw the footage. You basically asked him out. Why haven’t you gone out? You two have had a standing date since October.”

“We’ve been busy. We’ve got high-paced jobs.”

“It’s Opening Day, and we’re both sitting in our living room still in our pajamas. You have time.”

“I know, I know.” She waves Ruby away, twisting her head to look at her. “It’s…complicated. I don’t know. We text all the time, we both know that we’re interested. But I got called away to work and he’s just now back in New York. We’ll figure it out.”

“You better. Not everyone can say that their best friend is dating a baseball player.”

“Yeah, well, not everyone can say that their best friend is dating a detective or that she herself is a badass producer.”

Ruby waves her nail polish brush in the air. “Touché. I know we were just talking about how much time we have, but you’ve got to be at the fields in two hours. You know that, right?”

“My call time isn’t until three.”

“No, yours is at noon. You’re working the pre-show, remember?”

“Oh shit.”

She practically rolls off of the couch before running back into her room to get dressed, pulling on her pants and tucking her blue and white stripped top into them. She’s sure someone will say that she looks like a sailor, but considering she can’t wear a jersey to work, this will have to do. Luckily, she washed her hair last night, so she doesn’t have to worry about anything more than spraying some dry shampoo into her hair and curling it the slightest bit, knowing that someone will be around the studio to fix it at some point. It’s definitely not putting her best foot forward, but the pre-show completely and totally slipped her mind since she’s never gotten to work it before.

It’s likely the most high-profile day of her career, and she’s in a rush to get ready because she forgot.

How sleep deprived is she that she forgot?

(She’s going to blame Killian since she did stay up late talking to him.)

But she makes it there with time to spare and to go over her notes, especially since she’s not going on air until the second hour to introduce Killian’s interview, and by the time all of that rolls around, her entire day is a blur of muted colors and harried questions until there are claps on her backs and wishes of congratulations for her piece.

She did it.

She finished it.

And it was good.

Damn good.

And then it’s Opening Day at Yankee Stadium, and she’s sitting in an open press box near the field watching the game, reviewing stats, and cheering on the team that she’s come to call her own.

If there’s a specific player who she likes a little bit more than the others, well, that’s her business.

Killian plays an incredible game with several assists and three RBIs, and his stat sheet alone makes her realize that she’s going to get to go out on the field and interview him when it’s all over. An idea sparks in her mind, one that’s likely a little reckless but also probably ratings gold – as well as good for her personal life – and after she’s pulled her hair up into a ponytail and fixed up her makeup, she has Ruby attach her microphone pack to the back of her pants and makes her way through the gates to get out near the on-field press so that she can move in to get her exclusive.

Killian sees her before she even steps on the field, and his lips curve into a bright smile, making his cheeks more flushed than the sweat already made him. His pants have grass stains on them, his hair is drenched underneath his cap, and he looks like a verifiable mess.

She likes that mess.

“You give a girl one exclusive and suddenly she’s everywhere you go,” he teases, stopping right in front of her.

“No one even said I was out here for you, Jones.”

He clicks his tongue. “I assumed.”

“That’s a bold assumption.”

“There is so much flirting going on right now,” Ruby groans in her ear, reminding her that she really is out here to do a job. “You guys need to work out all of this sexual tension. Not on the field, obviously. But somewhere.”

“I’m a bold man.”

“Obviously. Funnily enough,” she laughs, switching her microphone on and nodding at Jeff as he follows behind her (the poor man is likely so tired of this), “I am actually here to ask you a few questions.”

“Fire away.”

Her stomach twists once more, but this time it isn’t a feeling of dread. It’s one of excitement, one she’d like to feel forever, and the thrill of anticipation works its way over her in chills that don’t match up with the heat today.

She may not have liked being put on the spot back in October, her entire world flipping and changing in a way that she wasn’t sure that she liked, but she thinks this question is about to go over a little better than the first time, especially since she’s the one asking. After all, she’s the professional here when it comes to asking questions.

“Killian Jones, you played a great game today, and I think a celebration is in order.”

He raises that one eyebrow, his smile faltering before ticking back up again, and she knows that he’s already picked up on what she’s about to do. He’s a perceptive one.

“And what do you suggest, love?”

“I hear there’s a pizza place around here that’s pretty good, and I am a hell of a good time on a date. So, what do you say? You want to go out with me?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

And then Killian dips his head down to glide his lips over hers, his hand threading into her ponytail and pulling her closer to him so she can feel the heat and firmness of his body all the while her hands grab onto his jersey, nails and microphone digging into him. She doesn’t care, though, and definitely doesn’t think about the fact that she’s making out with someone on television, mostly because that someone is Killian. His lips are warm, a little salty from the sweat, but really all she can think about is how good this kiss feels and how much she wants to keep on doing this and feeling like she’s the one who scored tonight.

(Obviously not on television, though, and maybe with fewer baseball puns.)

They eat pizza the next night.

And the morning after with Emma walking around Killian’s apartment jokingly wearing one of his jerseys because she told him under no circumstances would she be wearing one in public or showing him any bias simply because they’re together.

Two years later, though, when Jones is her actual last name, she folds and wears a number twenty-nine on her back while sitting behind the desk filming her own show.

Killian is her most frequent guest.

#cs fic #cs ff #captain swan fic #captain swan #striking out

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suckitsurveys · 6 years ago

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Do you hate your weight? Yes.

Have you ever struggled with a mental illness?  Undiagnosed but I’m like 99% sure.

Do you prefer listening to music or watching movies while you blog? Eh. I usually do them at work and I can’t really listen to music here.

Serious question, peanut butter or Nutella? Peanut butter honestly. Nutella is amazing but PB is a classic.

Have you ever stepped on a snail? It’s entirely possible my dude.

Do you prefer baked potatoes or mashed potatoes? I like all potatoes in every form.

Do you prefer ankle socks over regular socks? Yes. Except for when I wear converse or other high tops.

Last movie you’ve seen in theaters? Detective Pikachu.

Would you ever go backpacking across any country? Maybe.

Would you prefer to travel around the world by yourself or with a friend?   With my husband.

Do you like breadsticks? Who tf doesn’t?

Do you usually wear shorts around your house all year long? Yeah, or just undies and a shirt.

What state were you born in? Illinois.

Have you ever had a nosebleed? Yes, whenever use my powers to move things and see into people’s minds. Oh wait a second that’s Eleven not me.

How far away do you live from your birthplace? I’ve lived in my birthplace all my life.

Do you have a weak stomach? Nope.

Would you ever meet someone in person that you met online? I have. I met my best friend Sarah and my husband both online, as well a couple others I’ve lost touch with. I’m also meeting Ellen in October (unless she comes here first).

Have you ever had to take care of an intoxicated person? Yes.

What is so appealing about ��Twilight?’ You tell me bro.

Have you ever considered becoming a lawyer? Eh.

Do you *really* like donuts? Not really, actually. I have to be in the mood for them.

Do you think Disney World could ever get old? I haven’t even been there and it’s already old.

If you could, would you hook up with the last person you texted?   That would be Ellen. She’s adorable AF but I value our friendship above all else, so nah.

What are your favorite things to spend money on? Food and clothes.

Will you talk to the person you like on the phone tonight?   I might call him on the way home if I need to.

What do you usually order on a pizza?   Pepperoni and black olives.

Do you and your boyfriend/girlfriend fight a lot? Hardly ever. Even then it’s just petty little arguments that are resolved in seconds.

Who’s the first person with the letter “m” in your contacts? A woman who works on campus. I added her a long time ago when we were working in dorms together and I needed to text her information.

How old will you be on your next birthday?  30.

What color are your underwear? Brown with white polkadots.

Do you ever feel self-conscious when you eat around other people?   Sometimes. Not very often anymore tho.

#surveys

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hotsterfield · 7 years ago

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200 followers - Spider-Man

Word count: 1695

A/N: To celebrate hitting 200 followers, i stayed up kinda late, writing this! It’s really bad, but i really wanted to get something out tonight! Hopefully i can make it up to you in the weekend, but so far this is better than nothing. But again, THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!

It was just a normal Friday morning, but you could hardly get out of bed. Last night you had been so busy with your writing, that you completely forgot the time. You managed to get your story posted, and you had thought about going to bed, but then you started texting some of your friends overseas. To say the least, you didn’t get enough sleep, maybe about 5 hours.

You looked at your phone, to hit the snooze button, and as soon as the alarm was gone from the screen, you could see all the notifications from the night. Your Tumblr had completely blown up overnight. You suddenly felt much more awake, and you quickly checked the app, to see that you now had over 200 followers.

You couldn’t help but smile. 200 people! 200 people liked your writing! You didn’t even wait for the next alarm to go off, because right now you were more than awake. You simply could not wipe the smile of your face. You went through your daily morning routine, and for the first time every you were actually in good time. You didn’t see much of your parents that morning, but you never did in the morning.

As you walked into the school, you realized you were still in good time. This was new for you, since you almost always were late. You couldn’t help it, your bed was just too comfortable! As you walked towards your locker, your eyes spotted Ned and Peter. As you neared them, you saw their confused eyes.

“You’re early. And in a good mood” Ned said suspiciously. “Either you killed someone, or you didn’t go to bed yet” He continued, and you glared at him jokingly. “I’m just in a good mood, that’s all!” You smiled. Part of you wanted to tell them, because you were really excited about reaching 200 followers, but you also liked having the secret. You felt like you were living a secret life on Tumblr. Well that, and you had an idea that they wouldn’t exactly understand why you were spending your time writing about Spider-Man.

“Are you planning on killing someone? Because I’ve never seen you smile before noon. Well once, but you were eating. You’re not eating, it’s not even 8 yet, you have math now, a subject you hate. There’s something really strange going on, if you’re smiling before a math class” Peter continued, and you sighed.

“If you guys keep going like this, I might end up killing someone” The bell went off before they had a chance to answer, and you went into the class you hated, math.

***

“Y/n, spill it. Why are you so happy? Did you finally meet Spider-Man?” Michelle asked after math. She had noticed too. Michelle was one of your old friends. She was the reason you had transferred to Midtown a couple of years ago. You had known her for as long as you could remember.

“You know that tumblr blog I made a little while ago?” You asked her shyly. You were always shy when it came to these things. “Oh, the one you’ve been so busy for, that you haven’t done your math homework in the last few weeks? I remember” She smiled at you, rolling her eyes.

“Well. This morning, I kinda reached 200 followers” You said proudly as you neared the table, where the boys were already sitting. “Damn girl. You’re about to become a real author!” Now it was your turn to roll your eyes at her.

“You told Michelle? Why can Michelle know, when we can’t? That’s not fair! I want to know too!” Peter whined, and you laughed. “She had a blog where she writes stories, and she just got 200 followers” Michelle spilled, and playfully hit her. She wasn’t supposed to tell them that. You didn’t mind them knowing that part of it, but knowing Ned and especially Peter, you know that they would want to read it, and you were definitely not ready for that.

“That’s a lot!” Ned exclaimed. “Can I read it?” Peter quickly asked. “No! You can’t” You answered. “So, you post it online, but me. Your friend, can’t read it?” He challenged.

“I sent you guys a link to her blog. Sorry y/n, but it’s actually really good! I don’t get why you’re so shy about it” Michelle interrupted before you could answer Peter. You wanted to hide, this was so embarrassing.

“You write about Spider-Man?” Peter asked with a smirk on his face. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks. “y-yeah. Why not write about a hero, when we actually got one?” You stuttered, and you bit your lip nervously.

“These are love stories! Dude! You totally got a crush on him!” Ned said, a little too loud for your liking. “No I don’t! I just. No. No… He’s just interesting, that’s all. There’s nothing else to write about” You looked down, trying to hide your red cheeks.

“Peter know Spider-Man!” Ned continued, making you look up at Peter. “Though the Stark internship!” Peter hurried to say.

“Don’t you dare show him this! I warn you Peter, I will kill you!” Your eyes were wide, but you were still half-heartedly joking. “Maybe he’ll find it by himself. I can’t promise he don’t know about this” Peter tried to send you a smirk, but he ended up blushing a bit too.

***

“Have you even looked into law school?” Your mom asked with a raised voice. You had vaguely mentioned something about wanted to be a writer, and both of your parents had gotten a bit mad. It was always like this. They said they would support you, no matter what, but they really just wanted you to go to law school, and then work for your father.

“Yes, and I don’t want that! You want that! That’s your dream, but this is my life! Shouldn’t I be the one choosing?!” You asked frustrated. You just wanted someone to actually support you in your dreams. Every time you hoped your parents would finally do it, but every time it ended in a fight.

“Not when we’re paying! I just don’t believe you would be able to get by being an author. If you become a lawyer, you’ll be sure of having a job!” It was always the same argument. The same reason to go to law school.

“But I want to be happy! I’m not going to be happy working in law!” This was always your response. This whole argument was getting kind of old to you. “You won’t know that, till you try! Why can’t you just give it a chance?!”

“Because I want to give writing a chance! Why can’t you let me do that?!” You were now yelling. This had destroyed your day completely. “Because you need to stop dreaming, and get realistic! You need to grow up, and take responsibility for your life!” Your mother slammed her hand against the table, and you knew you were both too angry to even speak for the rest of the night.

“Just forget it!” You yelled, as you walked towards your bedroom, and slammed the door. You took your sketch book and your pencil case, and climbed out the window, onto the fire escape. You leaned your back against the cold wall, letting out a frustrated sigh.

“You okay, there?” You heard a voice say next to you, and you let a little shriek as you looked to your left, to see the one and only Spider-Man. “I-i-i-i. eh. I-I’m fine” You stuttered, still not understanding that he was next to you.

“You don’t sound okay. I can take care of emotional problems too, you know? So what’s the matter?” He asked, as he sat down next to you, almost touching you.

“I. Well. I” You took a deep breath, and tried to calm down a little. “My parents want me to law school, and I don’t want to. I want to be a writer, but my mother don’t believe I can make it” You confessed, looking away from him. You felt foolish, he had better things to do, than listen to you.

“Of course you can! You’re good! I think you can do it!” You looked up at him in horror. Did he know? How could he possibly know who you were? “Yes, I know about you’re tumblr, and I’m really flattered. Especially the, what did you call it, smut?” You could feel you cheeks turning red. This was the most embarrassing thing to ever happen in your life.

“I’m going to kill Peter” You mumbled. You didn’t have time to react, before you felt your hands stick against the wall. You looked at the spandex wearing superhero, who were now in front of you.

“I can’t let you kill anyone” He said, as he slowly pulled his masked up slightly, reviling his mouth. “besides. There’s something else I really wanted to do. It’s kinda the reason I’m here” He said, as he slowly moved his head closer to yours. He lifted the mask completely off, and you stared right into the familiar brown eyes. “If it’s okay with you?” He spoke slowly, as you felt his breath on your skin.

You gave a little nod, before he put his lips on yours. You were hit by shock, and took some time to respond the kiss, but when you finally did, you could feel Peter smile. As he pulled away, the smile was still on your lips.

“I. How? You, Spider-Man? What?” You couldn’t form a complete sentence, and you felt more confused than ever. You had just kissed Spider-Man. The Spider-Man. Your secret crush, who somehow turned out to already be your friend, and who have read the stuff you wrote about him? You could might as well just jump of the fire escape right now, because thing’s couldn’t possibly get any more awkward.

“It’s a long story. And being honest, I kind of enjoyed us not talking” He smiled, as he moved closer to you once more, and you felt the heat rise in your cheeks once again.

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #spiderman imagine #spiderman x reader #spiderman #spider man #spider man imagine #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker

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lesbiansirius · 8 years ago

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mutual(s) pining

a work brought to you by bunfox productions, aka yours truly and @lesbianremus! you can also read it on ao3, right here. big thanks to the lovely @nachodiablo who looked it over for us!

this is a prompt fill for the weekly prompt at @introvert-club. this week it was “internet crush”. anyone is welcome to participate, and use the tag #wolfstar introvert prompt for us to see! enjoy :)

Some days, scrolling Tumblr is pretty boring. A flower, a transparent backpack, a dejected joke about depression, a dead Soundcloud link, nothing to inspire. Sirius is hunched over their laptop, watching the screen with their chin resting on their hand. A long discourse post they can’t be arsed to read, gifs from a show they don’t watch, and then.

Inspiration strikes.

It strikes in the form of two selfies. The person in them is standing in a sunny garden, curls spilling out from under a snapback, and smiling with their eyes closed. You can see lilacs blooming in the background. The person has freckles and a t-shirt with a whale on it, featuring the text “I’m a little overWHALEmed”. Same, Sirius thinks.

They click follow without even looking at the blog.

Remus squints at the tiny, seemingly innocuous, line of text on her dashboard. It’s sandwiched between a masterpost of transfeminine resources Lily’s reblogged (tagged #dead useful tbh #remus i told u joining tumblr wld be worth it) and a post from one of Lily’s friends about how Glinda the Good Witch is trans agenda (shows up at the beginning of Act 2 with a new name).

padfoot has started following you

Who the fuck is padfoot?

Remus quickly opens a new chat, typing in Lily’s url. She had made Lily show her how to do this chat business first, after changing the aesthetically horrifying default blog layout.

do u kno a padfoot

Lily, eternally both awake and online, replies immediately.

wtf is a padfoot

oooh hang on actually i think i do

???

ya they’re one of my mutuals. mostly posts vids of them singing and reblogs pics of animals, iirc

why are they following me??? i don't want to be followed!!

remus chill ffs. it’s not like stalking. they just see ur posts

i dont even have any posts! well except those pics marlene took that u INSISTED i put up here

ur welcome. i bet they think ur hot ;) ;)

hilarious.

remus when will u accept ur cute n give the people what they want!! (more selfies)

im unfollowing u

my dash would be more appealing w just the staff blog posts

im ignoring ur paltry attempts at threats. also, i just went and looked and ya i had the right person. u should check out their vids

why

its polite 2 at least LOOK at someone's blog if they follow u!! honestly remus my 86 yr old grandma is more social media savvy than u

Remus chooses not to reply to that. She does click on padfoot’s blog, though. Not because Lily suggested it, just because she’s curious. What about some boring pictures of her in a garden screamed ‘good content’ to this stranger? Maybe they’re really fond of lilacs, or something.

“What the fuck?” Remus says, glaring at the still shots of the youtube videos embedded on the page in front of her. Whoever padfoot is, they’re apparently unfairly attractive. Remus clicks play on the first video, half-hoping they’re an appalling singer to make up for the ridiculously good looks.

Two hours later, Remus’ phone buzzes, jolting her out of her Tumblr coma and back into reality.

did u die? Lily wants to know. Remus calls her.

“Why would you assume I’m dead?”

“I’ve been knocking on your door for the past ten minutes, asshole.”

“Oh,” Remus looks guiltily down at the headphones she’d put on three videos in.

“Well come open the door,” Lily gripes. “We’re late.”

“Can we be late for a thing that we scheduled between the two of us?” Remus points out, as Lily tugs her down the stairs. “You barely even gave me time to put on proper clothes,” she complains.

“We said pub at five. It’s not my fault you weren’t ready.”

“Actually,” Remus says with a self-righteous sniff, “it was. You’re the one who told me to check out padfoot’s blog.”

Lily pauses, looking over at Remus.

“Yeah, three hours ago.”

“Two and a half,” Remus mutters.

“Wow,” Lily smirks. “I knew they’d be your type.”

“Shut up,” Remus grumbles. “We’re going to be late for Weekly Lion’s Den Bitch & Moan.”

“I thought it was impossible to be late for something we scheduled between the two of us,” Lily says mockingly.

Remus walks off without her, ignoring the sound of Lily’s cackles following her down the street.

Sirius straightens up from the computer and looks for James. He’s in downward dog position in the kitchen area, because of course.

“Hey,” they say, “quick question.”

“I’ve told you a million times not to interrupt me while my arse is reaching for the sky.” James sounds a little strained, but he still manages to get in a sigh.

Sirius groans. “This is important!”

“More important than my spiritual health?” But James walks slowly into a forward fold, and Sirius waits for him to get upright, one vertebrae at a time. They tap their fingers against their laptop.

James reaches his hands up towards the sun – or in this case, the orange plastic lamp in their kitchen – then finally gives Sirius attention.

“Okay, what’s the quick question?”

“How long should you be mutuals with someone before casually striking up a friendship?” It’s probably not causal to even ask that literally two minutes after the person follows you back, but whatever.

James rolls up his mat and chuckles. “You’re talking to me, literally the least casual person this side of the equator.”

Sirius frowns. They’re used to James always giving advice. Admittedly, sometimes it’s bad advice, but nonetheless.

“You mean I have to use my own judgment? Eh.”

“When I’m your manager you’ll never have to do that,” James jokes.

Sirius doesn’t reply; they’re actually checking out the pretty stranger’s blog now. The title is ‘why are they forcing me to have a title’ and the bio just says ‘she/her’. The pictures are the only thing on the blog. Well, that didn’t exactly help. Tumblr friendships are usually based on mutual interest. Maybe they could strike up a conversation about lilacs?

“Okay, well, thanks for nothing,” they tell James. “I have nothing to go on, my crops are dying, and I haven’t even posted a video in a week.”

“But your crop tops are fine.” James winks and slumps down next to Sirius, looking over their shoulder at the mysterious whale person. “Wow, pretty.”

“I know! The only good thing on Tumblr today. I need more!”

“You need chill,” James says firmly. “Wanna go to the pub?”

Sirius closes the laptop decisively. “Always.”

“Let me change, I’ll be ready in a few.” James gets up, giving Sirius an unnecessarily detailed view of his ass in yoga pants. “And you should put on one of those crop tops.”

“But remember the last time you went out in yoga pants.” Sirius grins. “Worked out well, didn’t it?”

James shakes his head. “Not tonight, honey, I’m tired.”

“It’s hard work being popular.” Sirius shrugs.

They do take James’ advice to change into a crop top, because even if James isn’t up to being hit on, Sirius could use the validation. And they look fucking awesome in a crop top and fishnets.

It’s just a few days after payday, and the time of day when people are off work, so they only barely manage to get the last free booth. Sirius sits down on the edge of the sofa, strategically placing one leg over the other so they’re visible to the people who pass by. It might not be a whale pun or lilacs, but Sirius’ legs rarely fail them.

James returns with an ale for Sirius and his own awful lager with cordial in it. The pink makes it look pretty, but that’s its only redeeming feature in Sirius’ opinion. James sighs happily when he takes the first sip, though.

“Did I tell you about that movie I found the other day? It’s like a comedy about vampires and werewolves, it’s amazing.”

Sirius listens to James try to explain it, and they then spend a considerable amount of time discussing various vampire questions. Do they get boners, and how? Can vampires be vegan? Are there vampires working night jobs that no one knows about?

Their stomach is hurting from laughing by the time Sirius gets up to get a second round. When they get back, James isn’t alone.

Remus pushes the door open to The Drunk Carnation, holding it politely for Lily, in spite of what a pain she’s being today. It is Lily’s turn to buy the drinks, which cheers Remus up slightly. At least if she’s going to be mocked she can do it over some semi-expensive alcohol.

Once they’re seated, Remus quickly changes the subject away from Tumblr.

“So how’s your acting class going?”

“Pretty well,” Lily says, sipping at her Seven and Seven. “That creep still won’t stop asking me out.”

“I thought you were going to ask the cute clumsy one to pretend to be your boyfriend?”

Lily shrugs.

“I still might. It’s sort of hilarious watching him work up the nerve to talk to me, though. I’m not sure if I want to put him out of his misery yet.”

“You’re a cruel woman, Lily Evans.”

“Anyway,” Lily says, shrugging off what she probably considers a compliment, “you aren’t getting off that easy. What did you think of padfoot?”

Remus groans, dropping her forehead onto the table and nearly tipping over her can of PBR.

“They’re fine,” she grumbles.

“Someone’s got a crush,” Lily sing-songs. “Hang on.” Her tone of voice changes slightly, and Remus looks up, following her line of sight. She recognizes when Lily’s ‘cute person’ radar is going off. “Weirdly,” Lily continues, looking back at Remus, “that’s him. They guy from acting class.”

“Oh,” Remus frowns. “The creepy one or the one you’ve set your cap for?”

Lily snorts.

“The latter, Jane Austen.” Remus smiles over the top of her beer, but doesn’t reply. Lily looks oddly hesitant for a moment, before her expression clears. “We’re going to go say hi,” she says firmly. Remus groans, but let’s Lily tug her to her feet. “Oh stop moaning,” Lily says.

“I thought this was a dedicated romance-free evening,” Remus says self-righteously.

“It’s just a hello.” Lily strikes a pose as soon as they’re alongside the table, cocking one hip and tilting her head flirtatiously. “James. Fancy seeing you here.”

The man at the table starts slightly, looking up from his phone. He widens his eyes and nearly drops the poor phone into his drink.

“Lily? Oh. Wow, hi. Hello.” Remus stifles a smile as James glances over at her. “Erm,” he says, getting awkwardly to his feet and holding out a hand. “I’m James.”

“Remus.”

“Nice to meet you,” James says politely, before his eyes drift inevitably back over to Lily. “Would you two like to sit?”

Lily looks over at Remus, raising an eyebrow. Remus sighs inwardly, resigning herself to a dull evening of playing third wheel. She knows Lily will go back to their table without protest if Remus asks her to, but she can also see that Lily is more interested in James than her conversation about him had let on.

“Sure,” Remus says, sliding into one side of the booth. She sits on the end, so Lily and James are forced to sit next to each other. Lily grins at her from across the table, and James looks to be a strange combination of thrilled and alarmed.

Remus is just trying to think of a way to excuse herself to give the two of them some time to talk, when someone else approaches the booth.

“I leave for two minutes and you’ve already replaced me,” the person says, heaving a dramatic sigh. Remus just barely manages not to jerk up her head, but she’s staring so intently at her beer that it’s possible she looks like some sort of deranged beer label design student.

Oh no, Remus thinks. I recognize that voice. James is babbling out some kind of protest and Remus’ stomach clenches up. Have we interrupted some kind of date?

Fortunately, Lily quickly takes charge.

“You’re too late. He’s mine now,” she says with a grin. James looks like he’s struggling not to combust on the spot, and Remus stifles a laugh. She’s grateful Lily’s given her a moment to get her equilibrium back. The stranger, padfoot, Remus’ brain helpfully supplies, slides into the booth next to Remus. She turns, friendly expression carefully propped up on her face, and smiles.

“Hello. I’m Remus. The extremely rude one across the way is Lily.”

“Cheers,” Lily says, sipping her drink.

“Sirius,” padfoot says with a grin, holding out a hand. Remus shakes it, trying not to look terribly star-struck.

I can be chill about this, she tells herself firmly. A tiny voice in the back of her mind is screaming that’s a GIANT lie, Lupin. Sirius is even cuter in person and they’re right there, nearly touching her and they smell really nice and it’s horribly distracting. She can’t even escape to the bar to get her head together because Sirius has just brought new drinks and Remus is now trapped against the wall.

“So,” she says a bit desperately, “how do you two know each other?”

Lily, who has apparently decided she’s fulfilled her helpfulness quotient for the year, just smirks at Remus over her drink and lets her flounder.

“How don’t we know each other?” Sirius waggles their eyebrows and grins. They then want to punch their own face.

James laughs nervously and glances at Lily. She is pretty, but he’s pathetic. Unlike Sirius, who’s the epitome of coolness right about now.

Remus looks a little pink. It’s adorable. “Oh, were you on a–”

“I beg you not to finish that sentence,” James cuts in. “Sirius is just being a dick. We know each other from school, way back.”

“Clearly this school thing is the way to meet people,” Remus says. Sirius laughs, possibly more than the joke warrants.

But Remus is wearing another t-shirt with whales, and is so beautiful, and Sirius feels like bursting into song. They’re lucky Remus and Lily didn’t turn up after a couple more beers.

“I like your shirt,” they say and nod towards Remus’ chest.

Remus looks down on her beer and giggles. “Whale whale whale,” she says, then looks up. “Get it?”

Lily groans on the other side of the table, but Sirius laughs again. They can’t seem to help it. This person is their kryptonite. “That’s funny. Do you have more of these?”

Remus tells them about the overWHALEmed t-shirt and Sirius pretends not to already know about it. James casts a smug glance at Sirius every now and then, but he looks too nervous himself to be gloating.

“What do you do for fun?” Remus asks, turned to Sirius, her leg almost touching their skin through the fishnets.

“I like singing,” Sirius says. “But it’s not too serious.”

“Ha–” Remus starts, and Sirius groans and buries their head in their arms. “Sorry,” Remus adds quickly. “I’m sure you get that a lot.”

“You have no idea.” Sirius lifts their head again and smiles. “Anyway. What do you like?”

Remus hesitates. “I write,” she says. “But nothing too– er, consequential.”

“Nice save.” Sirius braves nudging her arm with their elbow, and Remus looks at them and smiles.

Sirius doesn’t want to look away. Remus smiles like she’s holding back a much bigger smile, giving the impression that there’s just too much sunshine in her to contain. Sirius spills over.

“I followed you on Tumblr earlier today,” they blurt out. “I liked your selfies.”

Remus goes red. That was the last reaction Sirius had anticipated, but it’s not terrible. “I know,” she admits. “I don’t understand why, though.”

Because you’re beautiful. “They were very aesthetically pleasing pictures,” Sirius improvises. “I was so uninspired and then I saw them and it was good content, what can I say.”

Remus is shaking her head. “Not as good as your singing.”

“You checked out my blog?” At this point, the point where their arms are touching feels like burning, but it’d be weird to move now. Also, Sirius doesn’t want to.

“I don’t have more than ten followers, of course I get curious,” Remus says defensively. She’s not moving her arm, either.

“Really?!” Tumblr really is a hellsite. Remus, no more than ten followers? Atrocious.

“Yes?” Remus looks puzzled.

“You don’t want more?” Sirius is grappling with this concept.

“Not really.” Remus shrugs. “Anyway, I listened to a bunch of your songs, and I really liked them. You should be the one with more followers.”

“Thank you.” Sirius doesn’t know what else to say.

Lily clears her throat. “Excuse me for interrupting what I’m sure would have been an incredibly drawn out flirting process, but I’d like my best friend back, so if you could just exchange numbers now that’d be great.”

Sirius makes a surprised exhale, and Remus moves her arm back at lightning speed. “I will murder you,” she says calmly.

Lily just smiles at her. “Sure, but let’s get drinks first.”

“I’m sorry,” Remus mutters. “May I get out?”

Sirius gets up and gives way, watching with amusement at how James tries not to die when Lily passes him in closer proximity than he could possibly have hoped to have her. They say goodbye, and Lily and Remus start walking away before Sirius finds their bearings.

“Wait!” They take a few long steps to catch up. “Actually, Remus, I’d like that number, if you want to give it to me.”

Remus raises her eyebrows and her mouth opens slightly. How she’s making “flummoxed” look hot, Sirius has no idea.

“Sure, yeah.”

Lily looks extremely smug as they exchange numbers. Sirius is not looking forward to the look on James’ face when they get back to him.

Remus gives them one last barely-contained smile before her and Lily leave, for real this time.

Sirius looks at their phone and starts laughing. Remus saved her number as ‘whale endowed’.

Yes, Sirius has definitely been struck by inspiration.

#wolfstar introvert prompt #wolfstar #trans marauders #tumblr au #bunfox productions #my fic #jamie writes lily so well i'm :')#collabing is so fun i hope yall enjoy this as much as i did lmao

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kopikokun · 5 years ago

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🍄 anon is back again! 2nd week of online school done! so tired and i have alot of work to do but taking a break is always good for your health, right? anyways sorry for not visiting ur blog! very busy but thankyou for ur sweet reply! makes my heart go 💣🔥💥 i hope you're staying safe and healthy always! how' your day? did you eat well today? maybe eaten something good? 💞 let me know your favorite food and or drinks! im curious!

hello, sweetheart ꒰⌯͒•ɷ•⌯͒꒱ฅ and yes!!! taking a break can do wonders for both your physical and mental health! don’t overwork yourself and make sure to treat yourself once in a while! you better rest up well... or else i’ll go over there and bonk u!! ᕕ(˵•̀෴•́˵)ᕗ

thank you for sending me asks, cutie! they make me really happy and i feel all fuzzy & warm inside (๑•́ ₃ •̀๑) and i’m doing well here! i hope you’re doing better now too! i’m on holiday right now which is really nice ヾ(๑⃙⃘´ꇴ｀๑⃙⃘)ﾉ i just ate some fruits and ugh,, i’m reminded of how much i love them. i’m excited for dinner tonight though hehhehe

i hope you ate well today too! make sure to drink a lot of water as well ♡

and my favourite food would probably be,,, honey fried chicken? hmm, it changes a lot honestly lol also,, any type of fruit tea is usually my go to! esp peach tea yum :) what’s your favourite food/drink? random question but! are you craving anything right now? ehe i’d luv to know

#toaster asks #toaster: 🍄 anon

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taco-calamitous · 7 years ago

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Top Ten Albums of 2017 (According to Me)

So 2017 was kinda a rough year for most people not named Taylor Swift, eh? (Jeez, Taylor. Way to have a good time. That’s not allowed, or something.) American politics are shit, everyone hates each other, and people seem barely capable of not hitting each other over the heads with bike locks, or ramming their cars into each other. Personally, I drifted further into burnt out/not-giving-a-fuck territory this year, even though this is arguably the easiest year I’ve lived, this decade. I didn’t work at all (although I wanted to) I got mostly A’s or A-‘s for the classes I took, and one B, because I was too lazy to get an A in that class. I put shit off until the last minute, practically went without reading entire books that were required reading for my classes, and, by the end of the year, have spent many days entirely without getting dressed or taking a shower. It’s been easy, but I feel like shit for being this way, because just last year, I was in the Air Force and actually putting effort into life. It doesn’t help that I’m also now the fattest I’ve ever been. It could be that my medication is too high and making me too lethargic, I dunno, but something needs to change this year. So what about music? Music was pretty alright. There have been a handful of tracks I’ve really enjoyed, and some albums I’ve thought were rather good. Will I remember them with the same fondness I remember tracks and albums from, say, 2011 or 2013? We’ll see. In any case, the following is a list of the UNDISPUTED, BEST TEN ALBUMS OF 2017… according to me. Right now. Some time, next year? I can’t promise I will feel the same. But RIGHT. NOW… Number 10. The Menzingers – After the Party I was aware of the Menzingers for a bit before I paid them any mind. I got their fourth album, “Rented World,” when it came out in 2014, and thought it was pretty solid, a good album for a Summer day. However, for whatever reason, I wasn’t super in to any of the songs, though I distinctly remember “Where Your Heartache Exists.” I really liked that song at first, but then decided I didn’t by the end of the year, and I’m not really sure why. I guess I’m just a fickle piece of shit. This year’s album, “After the Party,” I decided I was getting when I heard the first single, “Bad Catholics.” I’m a Catholic. I’m often amused when comedians, musicians, or anyone else talks about being Catholic. However, that song kinda wore out on me. The rest of the album had staying power for me, though. I realized that a friend of mine would really like this album, so I played it for him, and he bought it. We’re not always big on the same music—there’s usually just an occasional crossover, and the rest of the time, we’re like, “eh, that’s alright,” about the other’s preferred tracks—so this is kinda a big deal as far as our tastes go. Standout Track: “Lookers” Number 9. William Patrick Corgan – Ogilala A few years ago, Billy Corgan had announced that, from now on, he wanted to be referred to as “William Patrick Corgan.” Shortly after this album was released, however, I read that he’s once again referring to himself as “Billy Corgan.” Perhaps that makes more sense, as it’s the name he became famous with, along side his band “The Smashing Pumpkins.” Not a lot about Corgan always makes sense to me, however. When one reads one of his blogs, one might ask oneself, “…wut?” When one hears about one of his many rantings over the years, one might again ask oneself, “…wut?” Corgan is very much this generation’s exemplar “eccentric artiste,” but not just because of his eccentricities: he is also a brilliant musician. Maybe not the best singer, but a great musician. So pretty much, I had decided, “whatever crazy shit he does, whatever obnoxious, egotistical thing he says, I will always like Corgan.” And then he went on the Joe Rogan show and said that a lot of it was an act. …I don’t even, any more. This solo album seems to be a continuation of what he was doing last year, when he was playing stripped down, acoustic versions of his songs, Smashing Pumpkins or otherwise. I got to see his show the last weekend that I was in the Air Force, down in Little Rock, AR, because he gave a special deal to members of the Armed Forces. It was an amazing show, both musically and visually, as he performed in front of these painted backdrops with moving lights and such. That show was the reason I realized that “Soma” is a pretty awesome song, in fact, and I had first heard that song about sixteen years beforehand, when I first got in to the Pumpkins—right before they broke up. I’m not sure what to say about this album, though. I like it, but not a lot of it stands out to me. There’s an acoustic version of “The Spaniards” on this, which is a pretty awesome song. Really, the album is a bit of a mesmerizing, acoustic soundscape, in which Corgan’s musicianship really shines (if that nonsense I just typed really means anything, and isn’t just cliché). Again, Corgan is the exemplar of our generation’s “eccentric artiste.” Standout Track: “Aeronaut” Number 8. Mastodon – Emperor of Sand I didn’t listen to this one until half a year after it came out. Even then, I haven’t listened to it much at all. That’s somewhat similar, for me, for Mastodon as a whole. When I first saw them perform on some late show or another, I didn’t think I liked them. It didn’t help that one of the biggest douchebags I’ve ever interacted with online also gave them high praises. However, for some reason, I decided to buy “Once More ‘Round the Sun,” their 2014 album. It was pretty awesome, although I’m not sure that I listened to it in its entirety, either; I just really liked their single, “The Motherload.” They tend to have some longish songs, so maybe that rubs me the wrong way. I might have totally forgotten about this album, but I decided to listen to it again, tonight… and I cannot deny that it’s a well-constructed, great-sounding album. The guys in Mastodon are obviously very talented musicians, and I love that one of their band members got kicked out of the 2014 Grammys, because I cannot stand the Grammys. I feel like the Grammys are not a celebration of the best music of the year, but rather a celebration of the music that most benefited from payola and the “artists’” good looks. So that dude getting himself kicked out forever makes him awesome in my book. Standout Track: “Precious Stones” (I guess… I’m not really sure) Number 7. Gwar – The Blood of Gods Back in the 90s, when I was a little kid, and my brother was going to college and living in the dorms, he borrowed my copy of The Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past. His roommate had a file in which he obliterated the game, and he had named it “Gwar.” I asked my brother, “What is ‘Gwar?’” I don’t exactly recall his answer, but I seem to remember thinking they were some crazy rock band or another. Years later, I saw their video for “Fucking an Animal,” and thought they seemed pretty fun, but for some reason, I never got into them (and given what I was listening to at the time, I probably would’ve really liked the album “Fucking an Animal” came from). In the back of my head, though, I’m pretty sure I always thought “Gwar is probably pretty cool.” Eventually, I did decide to start listening to them, due to their cover of “Carry On, My Wayward Son,” because obviously, there was a strong sense of humor to them. I got “Scumdogs of the Universe,” and was like, “this alright,” but what really hooked me was the album that came out later that year, “Battle Maximus.” It was far more brutal than anything else I had heard by them up until that point, and it just totally kicked ass. From there, I went back and listened to more of their older stuff, including “We Kill Everything” (the one “Fucking an Animal” was off of, and the one a lot of their fans apparently don’t like). …and then Dave Brockie (aka “Oderus Urungus,” the lead singer and sole remaining founding member, at that point) died of an overdose. Not only had the band just gone through an unexpected, tragic death of Cory Smoot, the final performer of “Flattus Maximus,” but they had lost the central, driving force of the band, up until that point. Most people thought they were done. Even when Michael Bishop (aka “Blowthar,” and the original “Beefcake the Mighty”) filled in for Brockie, I didn’t think they’d do another album, and wasn’t sure how much longer they would last. However, in October, they came out with “The Blood of Gods.” Is it as good as “Battle Maximus,” or the album before that, “Bloody Pit of Horror?” …eh, I dunno. It’s very different from those two albums, and seems closer to what they were doing around the time of “We Kill Everything.” Also, a few of the songs ended up irritating me, upon repeated listenings. I still like it, however (or else it wouldn’t be on here, I suppose.) It gets bonus points for featuring MC Chris, too. Also bonus points for being a Gwar album, when I wasn’t sure if we’d ever get another Gwar album. Standout Track: "Viking Death Machine" Number 6. Flatfoot 56 – Odd Boat Flatfoot 56 were the opening act for one of my more recent favorite bands, “Larry and His Flask,” in March this year. I had never heard of them, much less heard them, before I saw them at that show, and that show was the first time I ever saw Larry and His Flask live (I had bought tickets for a show in November of last year, but hadn’t been able to go). I’m actually not sure if I even knew that there was going to be an opening act, so I wasn’t exactly excited to see them. Furthermore, their van broke down, so they were like a few hours late, which in turn caused the show to start an hour and a half or so later than expected. So I was a little annoyed, as were the rest of the people waiting. They made up for it with an awesome show. It turned out they were a folk punk band with bagpipes on several of their songs (and some other folk instrument I forget on their other songs). The dude with the bagpipes fascinated me, with the faces he made and his dancing, or whatever it was. The lead singer also had a unique voice; deep and gravelly, though consistently on key. They impressed me enough that I bought their newest CD, and I don’t normally buy CDs anymore, I just get mp3 albums, or whatever. Very fun album, and I don’t think it has any swearing, even on the opening track, in which they tell about one of the meanest baseball players ever (which was almost my choice for standout track, but…) Standout Track: “Stutter” Number 5. Pet Symmetry – Vision Pet Symmetry started as a collaboration between members of the band “Dowsing” (whom I’ve never heard) and solo act “Into It. Over It.” (which I have one album of, but wasn’t super crazy about). I got their initial single on Asian Man Records (and usually, you won’t go wrong with a band signed by Mike Park) and thought their two songs with obnoxiously long titles were pretty alright. I was excited for their first album, “Pets Hounds,” although upon going back and comparing it with this year’s offering, I feel it’s quite a bit weaker. There were only four tracks that really stand out to me anymore (and even back then, the rest of the album bled together, to me). What’s more, some songs seemed to abruptly end. “Vision” is their most rockin’ album to date. Furthermore, each track more or less has a distinct sound to it, and none of it blends together at all, really. The first three tracks are very energetic and catchy, the fourth is slow, but still amusing, and the fifth is energetic and catchy again. Really, this could contend for the four albums that follow it for “number 1 album of 2017, according to me,” except that, although it doesn’t bleed together like the last album, not even my pick for “standout track” particularly stands out from the rest of the tracks as being a song I will remember years later. Though it’s still pretty catchy and fun. Standout Track: “Stare Collection” Number 4. Dead Cross – (Self-Titled) Growing up, my eldest brother was always a fan of Faith No More. One of my earliest memories is of the music video for “Epic,” and the goldfish flipping around out of its water bowl. I was highly concerned about that goldfish, so my brother told me it got back in the water after the video was finished filming. Later, my brother had a poster for their album, “King for a Day,” and it was scary to me. I didn’t decide I wanted to listen to them until years later, when my brother made me a mixed CD, with “Surprise! You’re Dead!” on it. By that time, the band had long since broken up, and Mike Patton was doing his numerous projects and/or collaborating with other bands. I guess Dead Cross is some kind of super band that Patton was gonna release on his label, and then the singer dropped out, so he did the vocals for them, too. The other members are Dave Lombardo—former drummer of Slayer, and also current drummer of Suicidal Tendencies and the Misfits, apparently—and two guys from a band I’ve never heard of before, “Retox.” The album’s songs sound as if they were originally written with Patton on the vocals, but Patton arrived after they were all written. Perhaps it’s because Patton has such a distinct voice. Also, he seems to never age. He looks almost exactly like he did in the 90s. Regardless, yeah, pretty awesome album. Standout Track: “Divine Filth” Number 3. Goldfinger – The Knife Goldfinger were at the Warped Tour this year, and they were fuckin’ awesome. Definitely one of the highlights of the day, along with Gwar and Save Ferris. My bro and I totally did NOT know that MxPx front man Mike Herrera is in the band now, so that was quite a surprise to see him up there with them (actually, it sounded like the only remaining original member was John Feldmann, their front man). In any case, I’m not sure that I’ve ever actually owned one of their albums before this new one, “The Knife.” I have a Best of somewhere, and possibly their first one, the self-titled album. My brother had like their first four albums, so I think I heard all of those, but really, they kinda fell off the map for me after that. This new album is really good, though. It’s a lot of fun, and a throwback to the Summer of Ska in the late 90’s (which to me was like three years: 96-98). Even though they don’t have a horn section (they borrowed Save Ferris’s for one song on their set at Warped) there’s a lot of horns on this album. It’s just a catchy, poppy, ska-punk album. I’ve read some comments that it was over-produced, but whatevs; I don’t get that at all from it. Standout Track: “Don’t Let Me Go” Number 2. The Dreadnoughts – Foreign Skies The Dreadnoughts have been around for a minute. You may have heard them in some video game. I haven’t, but a coworker claimed they were. I cannot find any evidence of this online. Whatevs! I first discovered them via their album “Polka’s Not Dead.” The concept of a polka-punk sound intrigued me, so I bought it. They only seem to have a few polka-esque songs, however; they’re mostly a folk-punk band. “Polka Never Dies” is still my favorite songs by them, and one of my favorites of the decade thus far (yeah, yeah, “the decade didn’t actually start until 2011, and the album that song was on came out in 2010.” I hear that, but I offer this argument: shut up.) I’ve never gone back to anything they did before then, but I probably should. Also, they claimed they were breaking up the year I discovered them, apparently, but then they didn’t, and I didn’t know about that until I read it on Wikipedia just now. So yeah. This new album is quite a departure from “Polka’s Not Dead,” or even the 2011 EP “Uncle Touchy Goes to College” that followed it. It’s a much more seriously-toned album than either of those—especially “Polka’s Not Dead.” It’s a bit slower, a bit more thematic, and a bit more traditional than those were. Because of this, I wasn’t sure how I felt about it at first. The album did grow on me quite a bit, however, after successive listens. My favorite track, “Anna Maria,” stood out to my in particular, as it had such an epic feel. The sentimental part of me also quite liked “Black Letters,” but yeah; “Anna Maria” is where it’s at. Standout Track: “Anna Maria” Number 1. Authority Zero – Broadcasting to the Nations The first album I’d ever heard by Authority Zero was previous album, “The Tipping Point.” I had heard them before, I realized, however. They did that “One More Minute” song, way back in 2005, that got a bit of radio time. Hadn’t caught my attention back then, but sampling “The Tipping Point,” they struck me as the type of 90’s Skate Punk music I wanted to listen to. They also have some ska elements to their sound, as well as some kind of Southwestern Border feel, particularly in the aforementioned “One More Minute.” (they’re from Mesa, Arizona). Not salsa, but somewhat Latin. “Broadcasting to the Nations” seems a bit more melancholic than “The Tipping Point,” which had a lot of punk tracks that seemed to say “let’s go get ‘em!” I’m particularly thinking of tracks like “Creepers,” “One Way Track Kid,” and “No Guts No Glory,” which are 3 of 4 tracks that end the album. Mind you, these tracks are still a lot of fun, as is the rest of the album. It just seems that in this album, Authority Zero has a bit less faith that “this is our time to take a stand,” or whatever. I do think that I like this album a bit better than the last one, too (although I feel like there was more competition for my attention in 2013). Standout Track: “No Guts No Glory” Honorable Mentions: Chuck Berry – Chuck (also probably the best you will hear a 90-year-old sing/perform); Municipal Waste – Slime and Punishment (also at Warped Tour, wherein the lead singer requested some drugs, because Oregon); Jonathan Coulton – Solid State (writer of "Still Alive" and "Want You Gone" does a concept album); Foo Fighters – Concrete and Gold (not as good as "Wasting Light," but alright. Lotsa Beatles-sounding songs)

#top 10 albums of 2017

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