#CS GO Crashing Betting

[februaryflowers]

the way to a choi san’s heart is through his maruchan ramen

san randomly strolls into the dorm kitchen one day and also strolls into your heart at the same time

warnings: loud noise, hot take san is a cs major... (sorry...im not that sorry though...im standing by this decision), yeosang is an implied engineering physics major (i am, however, sorry to yeosang for that one...)

straight up fluff, 2987 words, san x reader | college au (has a lot of american college experience elements like dorm building living n stuff), a little love at first sight vibes??

a/n: im sorry but if i have to be stuck in stem then im gonna force uni au ateez to be too 💔 also fish tofu mention bc fish tofu is my love and part of this fic was inspired by real events to some extent LOL 

Watching pedestrians shiver in their coats outside through the window makes you wince. It’s a good thing you didn’t go outside tonight. You don’t think you would’ve survived all that wind in the freezing temperatures.

But alas, you still need something to eat for dinner, so it’s a night of instant ramen for you. Standing in the toasty dorm kitchen boiling noodles is plenty good enough for you, though, as long as it means that you don’t have to go out today.

Turning back to the stove, you place the brick in the pot, submerging it fully with a fork before you turn on a timer. With everything set, you return to the glass, watching the world go by below you.

However your peaceful reverie doesn’t last long, a crash coming that makes you jump and grimace. 

“Sorry!” sounds through the air, and when you finally open your eyes, the voice’s owner is squatting on the ground, picking up his own pot and a small bag.

As he rises to his full height, he finally finds the courage and meets your eyes, his cheeks growing a pink similar to that of some of the bustling students down on the street.

“Oh, sorry!” he exclaims again. “Were you making something? I can come back later.”

“It’s okay,” you smile, stepping to the side to give him room at the counter. “You can use that burner; I’ll be done soon anyway.”

With a quiet nod, he goes to the sink before placing his cookware on the stove. “I didn’t mean to startle you, sorry.”

“It’s alright,” you chuckle. “Accidents happen…”

“San,” he finishes. “I’m San.” 

“Y/n. I actually live in the room right next to here.”

“Oh?” he asks before his eyes land on your own cooking experiment. “Ramen?”

“Yeah. It’s too cold to go out,” you laugh. “Didn’t feel like putting on ten jackets just to get burnt pizza or something. I see you also are partaking in the art of instant noodles.”

He grins. “My friend wanted some and I didn’t feel like studying anymore. Perfect excuse.”

“Oh who’s your friend? Maybe I know them.”

“Yeosang. He lives in—”

“I know him!” you exclaim. “He’s the best study partner ever, I swear. I dunno how he does it; I think I’d die if I had to use that many equations.” You shake your head with a fond smile.

Before San can reply, however, a beeping rings through the room, causing you to pull away and tend to your noodles. Now in silence, he glances over to you, your lips pursed as you use a fork to strain the water out. 

Has he ever seen someone as cute as you? He’s sure that other people have the same unconscious habit, but there’s something so endearing about the way you pout in concentration to avoid burns or spillage. He could probably stay here forever just to keep talking to—

Your movement pulls him from his reverie, his eyes immediately falling to the tile as you grab the cover to your pot and prepare to head out. 

But instead of leaving right away, with the steaming pot in your hand, you turn to him. “I’ll see you around?”

His gaze shoots up from the floor. “Oh yeah! I’ll see you around.” 

The little wave with your free hand does him in before you disappear around the corner. He hardly knows you and yet he bets that when he goes to deliver Yeosang his dinner he’d even get on his knees and thank him for making him make ramen tonight. Maybe Yeosang would even offer to set up a—

Sighing, San rests his cheek on his knuckles with a small smile as he thinks of you. 

Oh, he’s down bad.

Tonight’s studying requires a midnight snack, you decide. So you gather all your cookware and make the short trip to the kitchen right next to your room. It should be a quick mission, in and out and straight back to biology. 

And it starts out that way.

You quickly fill the pot and turn on the stove, your foot tapping on the floor as you wait for the water to come to a boil. 

“I told you I’d see you around!” 

Your leg stills and you whip your head around, met with none other than the sight of Choi San. 

“Hey, San.” You move to the side, giving him room, almost reminiscent of last week. 

“Hi,” he grins, sliding into the space next to you.

“Back for more noodles?”

“Of course; I need my CS nerd fuel,” he quips. 

“Oh my god, thank you again for your help the other day.”

So maybe Yeosang is a good wingman, San thinks, the smile on his face growing softly. After finding out that his friend was in fact crushing on you (San wasn’t exactly subtle in his attempts to ask about you, to which Wooyoung shouted to the whole library), Yeosang reluctantly invited him to your weekly study sessions, and he’d in fact been able to help you with your homework (after Wooyoung called him a nerd and elbowed his ribs to get him to sit closer to you).

But if he thinks about it too long, his cheeks will get even redder, so he simply scratches his neck. “It’s no problem, really. Just lemme know if you need help or something.”

“Thanks, San.”

With both of your pots boiling, you begin to fill them with the noodle brick, but your eyes fall upon San’s overflowing with extra goodies.

“What’re those?” you ask, pointing to the floating rectangles at the top of the water.

“Fish tofu,” he grins. “You want some?”

“Oh, it’s okay,” you murmur, suddenly quiet. “I wouldn’t wanna take your dinner or something.”

“Don’t worry about it.” With those little dimples of his, he slides a couple pieces into your noodles, not another word filling the air between you.

You certainly don’t need to study to know the fact, through and through, that San is incredibly bad for your poor heart. 

And so, one coincidence turned into two, then four, and six. Choi San was just always in the kitchen making ramen. 

Even today, not long after you start boiling water, he comes in. It’s so expected now, and just being with him has become so natural. Shuffling through the doorway, he fills his pot without another sound before placing it on the stovetop next to yours.

“What’re you up to?” he asks, shoving his hands in his pockets and waiting next to you, your eyes all trained on the bubbles underneath the cover.

“Just tryna finish a lab report,” you reply. “You?”

“Needed a break from homework. I think I would’ve lost my mind if I had to think about recursion for another second without something to eat.”

With a small chuckle, the two of you fall into silence once more. Together, alone, you let yourself glance at his face. There’s something so puzzling about him, you realize. It’s as if he only lives in the kitchen. Sure, you’ve met him with your mutual friends on campus, but for someone who lives in the same building, he’s practically a ghost over here. 

“Can I ask you something?” you pipe up, breaking the peaceful lull. 

“Sure.” 

“How come I never see you? I only see you in the kitchen,” you laugh. “I thought I'd at least see you around going to class or doing laundry, just something.” 

He lowers his gaze, suddenly finding his noodles very interesting and stirring them with his chopsticks. “I, uh, I actually don't live on this side of the building,” he murmurs, unusually quiet. His words are barely an exhale, a faint breath that nearly doesn’t reach your ears. 

“Oh…” 

As the steam rises from the boiling pot, he smiles a little, a nervous blush beginning to color his cheeks. “I live on the other side. When we met I was only here because Yeosang asked me to make him some ramen.” 

You recall that windy day two months ago. Midterms season was dawning, so you can imagine the stress Yeosang must’ve been under to resort to asking San to make him something to eat. You hardly even saw the man unless he was scurrying to the dining hall, claiming he was going to die from studying so much physics.  

“I didnt wanna study so I came over and well…” 

“You kept coming over,” you finish. 

“Yeah,” he admits with a quiet laugh. “I just…like spending time with you.”

“Y’know,” you exhale, “you don’t need to make up reasons or walk across the building to see me.” 

His eyes widen. “Really!?” 

“Yeah.” A small grin laces your lips as you nod. “I like spending time with you too.” 

Comfortable silence falls upon you both as the minutes count down, the ticking of time for the small moments you share. You like spending time with him too. Maybe, even if you don’t feel the same way he does, you could at least be friends. You could be friends all on your own, without any meddling middle men. San thinks he’d like that, that he’d rather have you as a friend than be nothing at all. In whatever way you’ll accept his affection, that will be enough.

“Although, I do have a question.” 

His head pops up, wide eyes blinking back at you before they soften. “Shoot.” 

“How do you always know when I'm here when you live on the other side of the building?” 

Color rises to his cheeks once more, a deeper red definitely not from the heat of the steam. “My friends…my friends like to tease me. Y’know Jongho?” 

You nod. “He lives around the corner from me.” 

“He always texts me when he thinks he hears you going to the kitchen,” he admits before his eyes widen. “That's kinda creepy, wait. I'm so sorry! I swear I'll tell him to stop. I can stop com—“ 

You laugh before shaking your head, causing him to stare a little bewildered at you. “Please don’t stop. I like spending time with you, San. I like spending time with you… a little too much.”

He stands, eyes blown as he finally turns to you and blinks. “Huh.” 

“Gimme your phone.” 

Taking his device out of his pocket, he hands it to you silently, still gawking at you and your words. When your fingers brush he jumps back, his brain jumpstarting and observing you. There’s a silly smile lacing your lips as, wait, are you… you are! You’re putting your number into his contacts!? 

“Next time I'll just text you when I'm making ramen. Maybe I’ll even head over to your kitchen.”

Then you turn back to the stove, tending to your noodles as if you didn’t just so brazenly flirt with your crush while his jaw falls open. 

San thinks he could die right now. He could die right here, right now, and be perfectly content. Not only would he not have to take his computer science exam next week, but he also has the number of the cutest, funniest person in the university!? This has to be a dream.

You look up from your pot at the large “Ouch!” that rings through the room, turning to meet a San with furrowed brows stroking his forearm.

“Are you okay?” you gasp. “Did you burn yourself?”

“Yeah, sorry. I just had to pinch myself.”

“Huh?”

“I needed to make sure this isn’t a dream, y/n!”

Stifling a chuckle, you return to your noodles once more, the timer now up. “Well, you better call me and take me out on a date, Choi San. I’m counting on it.”

“Oh, you bet!”

It’s fitting that your first real, official date with Choi San is none other than a ramen outing. 

Stifling a giggle as he opens the door for you—ever a gentleman—you try your best to bite down on the large smile that threatens to overtake your features, but San knows better. 

“What!?” he whines, tugging on your jacket as the host leads you to your table and sliding it on the back of your chair. 

“Nothing,” you tease, still playing with his fingers and refusing to let go. “I just think it’s a little funny you wanted to come here for our first date after all the ramen we’ve already had.”

“Well I dunno if the instant ones count. I think we should have actual ramen instead of just making the ones from the value pack I got for a dollar,” he laughs. 

“Hm, maybe.”

And when the food arrives, you find yourself wanting to take everything back. 

“Oh, this looks delicious,” you gasp, your mouth forming a small circle as the steam rises towards you, drifting scents of savory broth and fresh noodles into your nose.

“I told you so!” he teases, his chopsticks already in hand as he admittedly drools over the bowl.

But somehow, San’s grin grows, his cheeky hand making its way over your tray and stealing a piece of tender beef sitting right on the top of the nest of food.

 The smile is still lacing his lips as he chews on the stolen bite, his eyes sparkling a little more at your small pout. “I just need to make sure it’s not too hot,” he quips. 

With a roll of your eyes and your own little quirk of your lips, you dig in, and you just know San was right. You really do need to have the real stuff, not the straight up sodium packs, no matter how many times they come in handy in a pinch.

But before you can even finish savoring the flavor and swallowing, your date has another trick up his sleeve, leaving a swarm of butterflies in your stomach. 

Picking up the best piece in between his chopsticks, he carefully places the perfectly cooked bit in the center of your bowl, those adorable dimples peeking through his pink blush, one that rises not just from the steam. How are you going to finish this meal when he just knows how to make you swoon? 

And, as if that wasn’t bad enough for your fragile heart, he repeats the action no less than three times, even taking it upon himself to blow on the bite then hold it to your lips until you finally eat it. 

Oh, this man is going to be the death of you. 

“He’s in the kitchen?” you ask, holding the phone between your ear and your shoulder as you prepare your pot and fish out a packet from your drawers.

“Yeah,” Seonghwa hums. “You coming?” 

“I’ll be over in a bit.”

“A bit” means less than five minutes as you sprint through the halls to make it over to the other side of the building before he leaves, not bothering to lock your door despite knowing you’ll probably end up hanging out in his room for the rest of the afternoon.

And, true to Seonghwa’s word, San is in the kitchen. With his back hunched over the stove, his hand steadying the pot, his small pout lacing his lips as a stray noodle hits the sink, he doesn’t even flinch at the pounding of footsteps running through the dorm. 

He’s so cute like that, so immersed in something seemingly so simple. But that’s San for you, doing everything with care and attention.

Maybe you’re just in a teasing mood, or maybe San and his friends have rubbed off on you, but an idea pops into your head as you take another moment to admire him. 

With a smile, you adjust your pitch an octave or two. “You’re super handsome.”

“Sorry, I’m not interested. I’m already taken,” San replies monotonously, not even looking up from his task at the intrusion. 

At your burst of laughter, he finally looks up, his eyes widening at your form collapsing to the ground and clutching your stomach as fits of giggles erupt over and over. 

“Huh!?”

“It’s just me, doofus!” 

Joining you on the floor, he kneels over you, tickling your sides with a fond grin before you both pull apart and sit back on your knees.

“You’re so silly,” he teases, tilting his head to the side.

“It’s true though! I was telling the truth!”

But with him looking at you…like that…that warm gaze and bright smile…the last of your laughter subsides, allowing your head to jump back to his words. 

He’s already taken? Well, you hadn’t exactly crossed over to that and had that discussion after your few dates, but…you’d like that, love that. 

“San—”

“Y/n—”

A hint of laughter comes to both of you before pittering out once more. 

“You go,” you murmur. 

“I know I said…” His voice is unusually soft, even more so as he takes a small breath and leaves the rest in the open. “But…if you aren’t comfortable with that…relationship…with me…right now, that’s okay. I can wait. If you want, I’ll wait for you. But as far as I’m concerned, there’s nobody else. So, whatever you want, I’ll make it work.”

His words are barely a whisper now. Glancing between you and his twiddling fingers, he’s never looked so nervous. You’d like nothing more to take his hand in yours and bring that dimpled smile back, easing his racing heart. And there isn’t a doubt in your heart anyway, so why wait? 

Scooting forward, you rest a hand on his shoulder, a small grin on your lips. “Maybe you haven’t figured it out yet but…I’m kind of impatient, y’know.”

And even when the timer goes off, you can’t wipe the smiles off your faces, the two of you playfully nudging the other before going back to San’s room to share his freshly made pot of ramen. It was about time for you to return the favor and start coming to this side of the building a lot more often.

[terraliensvent]

simultaneously wanting terras to crash already because its just a collectible fodder culture and also wanting them to still be worth stuff because i know that i did not do those prompts to get the fuckass exclusive item just so it wont be worth anything in the future.

like the only reason i invested my energy into this species was so i wouldnt get harassed for making one without a masterlist entry and then after that maybe having an emergency way to make quick cash.

im fed up with the fodder culture and yet i have a vested interest in the species staying alive. because someone out there is willing to pay money.

if i did all this shit for the motherfucking astrohedron and planetary subtype to be worth jackshit in the future i swear..

i dont know at this point.

unfortunately thats just the way the cookie crumbles

trying to make money off of cs is very much like trying to play the stock market, the market for terras specifically hit its peak very early on and has been going downward since then.

if you still want to make cash your best bet is to liquidate your assets now while you still can, most terras cant even sell for the base voucher price of $50, when before they would be snapped up almost immediately

[aromantic-enjolras]

Amis sleep headcanons

Have a very stupid bunch of headcanons (shoutout to @pumpkinspice-prouvaire for brainrotting these with me)!

Enjolras doesn’t sleep often. And I don’t mean “he’s so occupied he forces himself not to sleep”, I mean “he feels no need to sleep regularly, and trying to do 8 hours a night actually makes him feel groggy”. He usually either sleeps a couple of hours per night or goes three days straight without sleep and then crashes for eight hours. Joly almost has a heart attack when he tells him.

Combeferre is a night owl. He suffered through morning classes in undergrad, but ever since he has been able to decide on his own schedule he has been going to bed at four and waking up at twelve. He just works better that way, and anyway he tends to hyperfixate on things and forget to go to sleep.

Courfeyrac is one of those horrible people who is perfectly awake by 6am. The Triumvirate joke that Enjolras plays the relay between the two Cs. If he needs to wake up one of his friends, he does it with a chipper voice and a song. On the other hand, he goes out like a light super early. It’s very inconvenient, because he loves partying!! He’ll be at the club, arguing that he wants to stay longer, he’s having fun! while his eyes droop and he keeps yawning. He always falls asleep on Enjolras’ shoulder on the way home.

Jehan has a super elaborate going-to-sleep routine. Face masks, hair care, relaxing music. He carries a dreamcatcher made with small crystals to hang over his head. Do not disturb his routine if you value your life.

Bahorel is a big fan of sleeping. Big fan. Full marks for that one. They can fall asleep at any place, any time. They rarely sleep less than nine hours per night, and they will be very grumpy if you wake them up. There are bets about whether someone can find a place Bahorel can’t fall asleep.

Feuilly is a morning person, but it’s not by choice. He used to like staying up at night, but they have been working stupidly early morning shifts for so long that now his body has just gotten used to it and he wakes up at 7am at the latest, even without an alarm. He also sleepwalks. A lot. And not mild sleepwalking “I walked around the room and went back to bed”: he had to put a lock on their bedroom door because he went outside his building more than once. He once called Bahorel at 2am, and when they took the call in a panic they only heard a very deep breathing noise.

Joly has read so much about healthy sleep schedules and how sleeping badly is Bad. He keeps a notebook with detailed notes of how long he’s slept every day and whether he woke up in the middle or not.

Grantaire is an insomniac.

Hope you enjoyed them!

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[karlyfr13s]

Oathkeeper Chapter 2

It was supposed to be a CS one-shot, but then the CSMM crew got ahold of me and now we’re in multi-chapter mode. Thanks to the ladies for their inspiration, enabling, and cheering me on. Looking at you @teamhook, @caught-in-the-filter, @hollyethecurious, @gingerpolyglot (tell me if you want added, and coach the newbie in where these actually belong).

A HUGE thank you to @veryverynotgood who is the most radiant beta and gives me flails that keep me going through the self-doubt. 

Links in case you missed Chapter 1 or prefer to read on ao3

Note: the rating is now M due to violent imagery.

Killian’s first week in Storybrooke was unconventional and more than a little confusing. Everyone in the whole bloody town seemed related, or at least so interconnected there may as well be blood involved; it drew attention to him and he spent most days certain he was being watched.

Certainly there were fewer eyes on him than on the young Lost Boy, Felix, and for that Killian was grateful. He observed the woman everyone called Granny as she put the lad to work with a nearly endless list of chores, always under her watchful, scrutinizing eye. In want of conversation one evening, he’d inquired about the choice to take on someone such as Felix. That had earned him a derisive snort and an eye-roll that rivaled Emma Swan’s when Granny explained in no uncertain terms that she was well-equipped for the job.

“Listen, Captain,” she leaned on the bar as he sipped a rum, “if I can raise Ruby through puberty as a damn wolf, I can handle one scrappy Lost Boy. What he needs is a strong guiding hand, and a good dose of responsibility--that Pan let those kids run wild.” Killian tipped his glass to her at that assessment, knowing all too clearly how the lads were deceived and used throughout their time in Neverland. “Structure, Hoo--it’s Killian, right?” she amended quickly. “Kids need structure and routine. You’d do well to remember that.”

Not for the first time, Killian wondered exactly how much Granny overheard and knew as she watched her patrons come and go. In fact, she was the only one in town who referred to him by his given name, most simply opting for Hook or Captain if they were being pleasant. Or ‘the pirate’ if they happen to be Emma’s father, he added. His ponderance was abruptly interrupted when the door crashed open and an exasperated looking Emma quickly crossed to the bar and sank down one stool from his own.

“This one calls for a whisky on the rocks, Granny,” she huffed, casting a sidelong glance at Killian’s own glass. “You too, huh? Must be going around today.” He watched as she shucked her red leather jacket, tossing it aside on the barstool between them and he gave her a moment, offering a quick clink of his glass once her own libation arrived.

“To what do we owe the pleasure?” Killian kept his voice light, noting the tension in the set of her shoulders and jaw.

She heaved a sigh and he made a valiant effort to focus on her stunning green eyes rather than the assets her movements showcased in that moment. “The short version? I’m sick of my mother,” she tripped on the word, “trying to be my life coach. I’m tired of inane ‘loitering’ reports from the surliest dwarf, and I cannot seem to get--” her momentum was immediately interrupted by the door and a sudden call across the diner.

“Ems, there you are!”

“--a single minute of quiet,” Emma finished lowly while Neal sauntered over and leaned against the counter, placing himself between Killian and her.

“So, I was thinking we could grab dinner. You know, you, me and Henry? Or maybe just you and me if Regina has--”

“Neal, I’ve had a long day. I am going to enjoy this drink, maybe a second, and then I am eating whatever I rummage out of the pantry at Mary Margaret’s since she and David are out on a date.”

“So you have the place to yourself?”

Killian understood the insinuation and clenched his jaw. He started counting backward from ten while he listened to Emma try to redirect Neal’s plans, and when he heard the other man’s second attempt to garner an invitation he reset the clock and started the count at twenty. Perhaps she cares for him, he reminded himself. She is tired and had a difficult day, but that does not mean she has chosen not to be with--

Her voice was suddenly raised and Killian felt like he was about four steps behind the conversation as he snapped to attention on the words she spat at the man across from her.

“Just go-- go, Neal. This isn’t happening. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. It is not happening .” Whatever expression she held in that moment must have been truly glorious to earn Neal’s melodramatic scoff as he stormed out the diner and slammed the door behind him.

Granny simply poured a healthy splash of whisky in Emma’s glass in reply before shuffling back to the kitchen as she had witnessed the whole interaction mere steps from Killian, who just now was actively working to control both his expression and the thoughts wheeling through his mind at her parting shot. What exactly was not happening between them? Where did that leave him?

Killian glanced over at Emma, her eyes ablaze as if challenging him to comment on the interaction. “Darts are quiet,” he offered congenially, smiling what he considered his most winning grin.

That earned him a quick bark of laughter. “And a little violent,” she smirked.

“Aye, that too, Swan.”

She held up her glass and they shared their second silent toast of the evening. “I could use a little of both,” she added as she got up, glass in hand and the beginnings of a smile playing at the corner of her mouth.

“I hear rumor they even sell food at this establishment,” Killian pressed his luck a bit as they collected the two sets of darts and set up.

“You don’t say?” She shook her head at him and he watched her consider the offer. “Loser buys?”

“Of course, love.” He sketched her a bow, flourishing his hand and making a show of it to cover up his surprise.

“Not your love,” she retorted, sinking a bullseye on her first try while Killian considered how grateful he was that Granny accepted doubloons. Where had she learned to play like this?

...

Granny hollered last call only moments after Emma bid Killian goodnight, a lightness to her steps as he watched her go. “Looks like that went well,” Granny called over as she wiped down the last table.

“Aye,” he tossed Granny a wink, “and she stayed for three games. And dessert.”

For the life of him, Killian couldn’t decipher Granny’s laugh at this simple observation until the double-entendre dawned on him at last. He was tired and perhaps he’d imbibed one too many glasses if he was the one missing the joke...it was then he noticed Emma’s jacket still laying across the barstool where she’d first dropped it.

“Seven hells,” he took off to the sound of Granny’s whooping call as she warned him the sheriff walked fast and he’d better work for it. Work for what exactly? Killian mused as he jogged out into the night, no easy feat in full leathers with more than a bit of drink in him. He spotted her golden hair in the lamplight down the street and called out, thinking it the better option than startling her.

She spun on her heel, wobbled slightly, and burst into laughter as she leaned against the lamppost for support--clearly he wasn’t the only to enjoy one too many this evening. Ever the gentleman, Killian held her jacket out and ignored her comment about being chased down Main Street by a pirate.

“Princess,” he began, calling far too loudly given the hour, “chivalry demands I return your cloak, lest you catch a chill on this dark night.” She shushed him less than successfully as she giggled and fell into step beside him-- Emma Swan can giggle, he mused. “As well,” he continued, voice full volume and bordering on a bellow, “I must see you safely to your door. No doubt there are ruffians about, and all manor of unsavory ne’er-do-wells, all seeking mischief against such an elegant,” he chuckled as she staggered slightly, “and graceful lady as thee.”

“You’re such an idiot, shut up! Do you want the whole neighborhood awake?” Her scolding was half-hearted at best considering her idea of a whisper could likely be heard across the street.

“Do you think they’ll call the sheriff, love” He waggled his eyebrows at her and she swatted his chest. “Surely you wouldn’t throw a man in the brig for an act of noblest courtesy,” at that he draped her jacket over her shoulders while she led the way and proceeded to spin a tale of his own unimpeachable valor as a young sailor. When they reached her dwelling, she turned to face him before heading up.

“Why do you always get it? Nobody gets it.” He raised a brow at her question. “Gets me. Like Neal,” she slurred the name and rolled her eyes. “I have a shitty day at work and he decides to make some weird pass at me through the kid ? But you,” she leaned in and poked Killian in the chest, keeping her index finger pressed against his sternum. “You’re the...the flirty pirate king and you just...throw sharp shit at a wall with me and buy me drinks. You didn’t even check out my ass more than once.”

He absolutely had, but far be it for Killian to correct the lady when this seemed to be going somewhere rather interesting.

“Can I tell you a secret?” she slurred.

Before he could suggest this was likely a bad idea as she would potentially regret whatever her next words were to be, she pulled him down by one of his coat lapels and whispered loudly, “My mom is Snow White, right? So she’s all about ‘true love’ and ‘happily ever after’,” her whisper became what he thought was an imitation of her mother, though he doubted that Snow White had ever been six whiskies and two rums deep.

“So she thinks that Neal is like...my Prince Charming, but here’s the secret: he’s not a prince! He’s a con-man, and he sure as hell isn’t charming. So whoops, Mom! Wrong bet!” She laughed and let go of his coat, poking the end of his nose and whispering something that sounded like the noise boop in the most infuriatingly impossible-to-understand gesture he’s witnessed yet. She gave him a glassy-eyed smile, and in a parting shot that left him speechless, she cupped his cheek and in a much softer tone murmured, “Goodnight, Killian.”

---

The morning arrived after less rest than he’d like, but Killian snapped awake as  the sky first began to turn a dusty rose on the horizon. This was very likely the best mood he’d found himself in for quite some time, and he mused on the past twelve hours as he fiddled with the magic hot-water dispenser until he got the temperature just right. Unlike the Jolly , Granny’s provisions in terms of hygiene were lavish and he assumed they cost her a small fortune if Ruby and the guests enjoyed them as much as he did, but Granny assured him the soaps and amenities were provided, so he took great joy in letting the warm water run over him as he lathered up, breathing in the herbal and lemon scent so unlike the harsh lye soap he was accustomed to. This world without magic had its  charms, and hot water on demand was his latest favorite.

He arrived downstairs for his other new-world favorite - coffee - and Killian was pleased to see Emma already at the counter, though she looked a great deal less chipper than he felt. “Good morning, Swan,” he sauntered up to take a seat at her left. “Beautiful morning, don’t you think?”

She grumbled something about a headache and before Killian could reply, Granny swooped in and all but insisted she sit and have breakfast. Despite her protests, Emma wound up delayed in her arrival to her post that morning as she was cajoled into a substantial pile of eggs, bacon, and toast. “Complain all you want, Sheriff,” Granny eyed her as she set a matching plate before Killian, “but you two need to soak up some of last night’s fun. Now, eat.” After obligingly refilling their mugs with steaming hot coffee, to which Emma added more than a bit of cream and sugar, Granny retreated to another table as the morning rush filled in around them.

They ate in companionable silence until Emma glanced over and opened with, “I beat you at darts, didn’t I?”

“Aye, two wins to my paltry one, Swan. I’m only grateful we chose not to wager more than dinner and drinks on the game, or my pockets would be a great deal more empty.” She smirked at his comment, and the two chatted as they worked through their breakfasts, both seeming to come alive as Granny had predicted.

He should have known it was all going far too well.

The bell above the door chimed, and the bustle of the patrons picking up coffee and pastries on their way to work or leisurely enjoying their breakfasts fell to a whisper. Killian stayed perfectly still as he heard the man limp toward the counter, the gentle thud of his cane giving him away. From the corner of his eye, he saw Emma roll her eyes at his clipped “Miss Swan,” and Killian stayed frozen to the spot, not trusting his reaction in front of the woman who not only was increasingly important in his life--a thought he’d sort out, or studiously avoid, later--but also represented the local law enforcement.

He heard few of the words exchanged between the Crocodile and Granny, though neither appeared pleased to be having the conversation. Instead, his pulse pounded in his head and his vision clouded as he clutched the edge of the counter. Killian had the distinct image of grabbing that gold-topped cane and flipping it, beating the man about the head until nothing recognizable remained. Until the gold handle dripped red. He could leave him on the floor of this place, twitching as the last impulses of his brain forced him to dance to a soundless tune; Killian could simply walk to the Jolly and set sail, free of the memory of this vile excuse for a man.

Except that he could do no such thing. He sat next to the sheriff in a small town diner surrounded by people who already distrusted him to varying degrees. He was trapped in a land that was not his own and had no way-- nor will --to return to his own. He was a captain without a crew, and as his mind raced through the numerous ways he could rid himself of this loathsome creature he knew now was not the time and certainly not the place. Simply put, Killian refused to put Emma in a position where she would be forced to see the darkness that lurked within him. So he let it pass, and let the Crocodile go for today.

It wasn’t long after the disruption that Emma took her leave, and Killian lingered at the counter as he mulled over what to do with his day. Most days he helped Granny with the more physically demanding repairs around the place, but he felt caged and in need of something more challenging.

“Appreciate you not taking his head off in my diner,” Granny remarked banally once the place emptied. “You have any idea what it takes to get blood out of white grout? Oh, don’t look so surprised; nothing smells quite like fear and rage rolled up in one, and I could smell yours from across the damn room.” She waved dismissively and filled two mugs, sliding one to him and keeping the other for herself. “It’s hot chocolate, and you need it. Little liquid comfort never hurt anyone, so drink up and tell me about it.”

He sipped hesitantly, but the woman was certainly right about the comforting power of the elixir before him. Killian thought about his next words as he breathed in the sweet steam from his mug, letting the cup warm his hand as he held it. “You could...smell my emotions?” He felt it best to begin with the obvious inquiry and prolong the tale of his darkest day.

“I could also hear your heart-rate skyrocket the second you knew who came through that door, so I’m guessing there’s some history there. You don’t have to tell me everything, Killian, but I need to know if I can trust you when you’re in here. Gold comes in to collect rent monthly, and every now and again he has lunch as well. I need to know you’re not going to take a kitchen knife to the bastard while I’m serving sandwiches.” She levelled a scrutinizing gaze at him and waited.

Killian set down his mug and scrubbed his hand over his face, realizing he was in need of a shave, then realizing he was further delaying the conversation. He sighed, knowing there was only one right way forward. “I will not spill his blood on your grounds, Granny, not unless he spills mine first. You have my word.” She nodded once, waiting for him to continue. And so he spent the sunny morning explaining how he lost his hand to the Dark One. While Killian left out much of the story of Milah, he could not entirely avoid her role in the tale, explaining simply that the man she knew as Gold had killed the woman Killian loved right in front of his eyes. Granny was sympathetic and asked few questions, letting him choose how much to reveal. It was cathartic, in a way - a chance to tell someone this piece of truth. A chance to be heard.

When they were finished, Granny spoke briefly of her wolfish nature, a truth which Killian enjoyed as it made her acute hearing and perceptiveness make far more sense. “I know your heart-rate also picks up around a certain sheriff,” she added as Killian slipped on his greatcoat, readying himself to find busywork on the Jolly . “And I know hers does around you.” She eyed him closely then, searching for he knew not what. “Be careful with her, Killian. I don’t know everything--I’m not sure anyone does--but I can see enough to know she’s been hurt, and that hurt hasn’t fully healed. In fact, I’m damn sure the source of it just waltzed back into her life.”

He nodded his understanding and left her to her work. Given the woman’s preternatural understanding of her patrons, he was not about to argue. He chewed her words over in his mind repeatedly as he spent the rest of the day checking that everything aboard his beloved Jolly was in tip-top shape. While his life may be constant chaos in this world, at least he could be assured his ship was as perfect as ever.

[jinmindeulle]

the art of love | cs

pairing: choi san x reader ft. mentions of park seonghwa 

word count: 5.1k

genre: artist!reader, florist!san, exes to lovers au | angst, fluff

warnings: minor swearing

find ateez’s masterlist here!

enjoy ♥

How many deep breaths did I have to take to put myself together every time I started driving back to my hometown?

I think I stopped counting five years ago. It didn’t matter how many times I had done that, it had always driven me crazy.

But this time, it was worse.

“Please, text me when you’re on your way. Let’s meet at Jjinsong’s Café before going home. Be safe, love you!”

Yet, I couldn’t be mad. I missed my family too much to be upset over that. It’s been seven years, y/n, get over it!

I replied to my sister with a short message full of heart emojis and I put my phone inside my pocket. I started the car and glanced at my (ex?) apartment floor. Hope to see you empty when I get back.

Last time I visited my family’s home in Namhae, it was all tears and sad eyes. Making my way back to Seoul was one of the hardest things for me. However, every time I went back to the capital city, the driver’s seat was always taken by the same man, who at least tried to make my trip bearable by holding one of my hands when he could. But that day, I was the one driving, all alone.

I couldn’t break the news to my mother over the phone. She had gotten attached to him over the years. But she didn’t knew the whole truth, and honestly, going back to Namhae was way cheaper than calling my mom to tell her that I had rejected my boyfriend’s marriage proposal without second thoughts, and that my life was just a mess in general.

And I also needed to see her, my dad, my sister and my nephews. They were going to help healing my open scars. At least try to.

I picked a random playlist and kept it on repeat the whole trip. Fortunately, being a Thursday, the traffic was not that bad, especially at such an early hour. I really didn’t want to stay under that roof any longer. I felt miserable there. Why did I have to put it off that much?

“Why did you have to put it off that much?”

“I wonder exactly the same”

My sister looked at me with a raised eyebrow while she quietly sipped her coffee.

It had always amazed me how calm and collected Eunjung acted and reflected in situations like mine. She would never get upset unless it was the end of the world, and that hardly ever happened.

“I knew something was wrong since the last time you came home with him”

“But it was not that bad back then”

“You sure?”

“Well…”

He had been promoted a week before and his father had announced that he was soon going to retire, leaving him his position as CEO of one of the greatest companies in South Korea. It had easily gone to his head, and I wasn’t able to stand staying in the same room every time he brought that up.

“Maybe you’re right” I sighed, quietly stirring my own coffee. “I honestly don’t know, Jung. I didn’t like to think about it because it meant doing something about it. And I think I was way too comfortable living like that to try and change it.”

“And he made you do it”

“Pretty much, yes. I couldn’t get married to him. I don’t think I loved him enough to sacrifice what I wanted in life just for him”

“I’m glad you did that, y/n. It means you’re still chasing your dreams”

“I mean, yeah. I have always been. Not actively, but I kept dreaming about having my very own gallery, and everyone in Seoul wanting to have my art pieces on their living room’s walls.”

“Why not everyone in the country? Or in the world?”

“My dreams are more of the realistic type, Jung” I chuckled, munching my last chocolate cookie.

“How are you going to tell mom?”

“With your help?” I smiled innocently, trying to display the best puppy face I could master.

“And how do you want me to do that? ‘Hi mom, y/n here broke up with Seonghwa right after he proposed to her because it was not the life she wanted! Please don’t be that happy, it will break her poor heart!’”

“Eunjung! Please!” I begged “She won’t leave me alone and…”

“She will” my oldest and only sister interrupted me, smiling like the Cheshire Cat. “There’s been a rumour going around…”

“Wait, what’s going on?”

Eunjung sipped from her blue coffee mug and looked at me with the same innocent eyes I had displayed some seconds ago. Then, she quietly put the mug down and got closer to me over the wooden table, encouraging me to do the same. Once we were close enough to avoid being heard by the rest of the customers, she whispered in my ear.

“Rumour has it that Choi San is getting divorced”

I resoundingly sat back down, looking at my sister with a mix of weird emotions in my eyes. I hadn’t heard his name in ages. Not because I happened to not hear it, but just because I had deliberately asked my family not to bring his name up when I was around.

“Eunjung…”

“His wife cheated on him”

“Please, stop” I murmured, tightly closing my eyes, trying to get rid of the million memories that my brain decided to bring back after so many years of suppressing them. “You know how I feel about him”

“You’re telling me that after more than seven years you’re still upset about him and what you went through? You were like twenty years old, c’mon! You’re a woman now, y/n!”

“I was twenty two, and yes, I’m over it. But I don’t want to know, hear or talk about him. He’s dead to me. He’s been dead to me since the day I moved to Seoul, and will be until the end of my days”

“I didn’t know it was that deep”

“You were too busy taking care of your babies, Jung. And I’m not complaining here, I just know that you never got the full story, but it’s OK. It’s in the past now”

“You sure?”

“Stop making me question my life!” I cried, throwing a used paper napkin right at her face.

“What do you want me to say?”

My mom had always been understanding. She would calmly nod and hug me, telling me that everything was going to be okay, and letting me soak her blouse with my teenage tears. However, there were situations in which you could never guess what her reaction would be. And that was one of those times.

“Honey, I think we all knew that you were going to end things with that guy” my dad intercepted “but we weren’t aware of the fact that it was that bad”

“In all honestly, I wasn’t either” I murmured “it was just my routine. I had been waking up next to him for nearly five years. I had a job that let me live comfortably and not worry about anything else than buying expensive clothes every now and then because I was supposed to be accompanying Seonghwa in every fucking company’s party” I allowed me to cry for the first time, letting the pain and desperation out “I was living like a damn princess. But I never wanted that. I had never wanted that!” I sobbed. A pair of gentle arms held me tight, and I instantly knew that it was my mom. I hugged her back, holding onto her like she was the only oxygen mask available in a crashing plane.

“I know dear, I know. And I’m proud of you. You did what you wanted to do, because you should always do that. And it’s OK. It will never be a bad thing to follow your heart, y/n”

I nodded, drying the flowing tears with the back of my sleeve. “Thank you mom, dad. I love you”

“We love you too, darling” my dad affectionately kissed my cheek, chuckling when I showed him a weak smile. “Why don’t you take a shower while I finish preparing lunch? I bet your nephews want to see you as much as you do”

“Yeah, will do” I nodded, grabbing my large pastel purple suitcase. “I need to recharge before seeing those little demons”

The whole Thursday and the day before had been an emotional rollercoaster, so I expected to get the sleep I deserved. But sometimes things don’t go as planned. Just like my life, really.

The first night that I slept in my old room was just a blessing. No alarm clocks were rushing me out of bed, no angry faces were shaking me out of sleep, and no boring tasks were waiting for me in my office’s desk.  

“Aunt, wake up!”

I opened one of my eyes when the curtain was drawn and sunlight hit my face. I was about to bury my head in one of my pillows when the oldest of my nephews, Jiwon, took it away from me and slapped me with it.

“Mommy’s taking us to the park so we can have a picnic as breakfast!”

“And told us to wake you up so you can go with us!”

“Please, auntie! Wake up!”

I wanted to scream. I swear to God I loved those kids, but sometimes they made me think twice about having my own in the future. Yeah, well, it won’t happen anyways. You’re single now, and you’ll probably be forever.

“C’mon auntie! Or mommy will be upset!” Jihwan cried.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” I sat up, rubbing my eyes. “Go tell your mom that I’ll be downstairs in like 10 minutes”

“Okey dokey!”

Getting ready in the mornings was not my favourite thing to do. I liked to pick whatever was clean in my closet and wear it like it was a Prada dress. Nonetheless, it was never like that for me. I had to be well dressed. I had to wear the actual Prada dress. I just couldn’t choose.

But that day, I could.

After taking a shower, I took my old, worn out pair of jeans out of my suitcase and put them on.

“It’s been so long since I wore these jeans” I whispered, caressing the fabric.

Next, I chose a simple, colourful shirt that I myself had intervened years ago, and tucked it in. The most comfortable pair of sneakers finished my look.

“You look like you’re twenty again”

“Oh Lord Jesus, knock next time!” I shouted, startled by my sister’s voice.

“You’re back to being you. I like that” she smiled at me from the door frame. “But hurry up! These kids are driving me crazy down there”

Taking a look around that familiar yet so long forgotten park, made me feel emotional once again. That was the reason why I always tried to avoid it every time I decided to return to Namhae. My hometown brought back too many memories, memories that I had decided to erase seven years ago.

But I was tired of it. And at that moment, my future was uncertain — what I had always feared the most. Bringing back painful memories was nothing for me at that point.

“Fluffy is crazy!”

“Give it to me, Hwanie” I took the red dog leash from my youngest nephew’s hand, trying to prevent the huge dog from running around the park chasing the ducks, and probably throwing to the ground the old ladies that were feeding them. “When did this dog get this big?”

“We are feeding him puppy food that makes him stronger, auntie!”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t d… Fluffly!” the dog was able to release himself from the leash while I was giving wise advice, and started running towards the ducks, leaving us four way too far away to stop him before a massacre happened.

“Oh no!”

I reacted as fast as I could, although I knew I was way too late. My legs were not that fast, and even if they were, how was I supposed to have enough strength to pull him away from innocent ducks and old ladies?

Just when he was about to throw himself over the lake, a man in a black hoodie that covered most of his form took him from his collar and kept him under control. I kept running towards them, busy thinking about what that crazy dog would do to the stranger if he made a false step.

But I was stunned — and out of breath — when I found out that the beast was happily wagging his tail to the man, while he petted him. “Are you still misbehaving, Fluffy? Didn’t I teach you to stay calm near the ducks?”

“Uhm… hi?” I breathed out, trying to call attention to the man who still had his back to me. “The dog…”

“Are you still struggling to ta…”

My eyes watered in a matter of seconds. The man that I was successfully avoiding for years was standing right in front of me, looking the way I remembered him, like seven years had done nothing to him.

But he looked tired. Like he was going through hell and was needing a break from it all. His eyes had all the time shown his feelings, and back then, I was the only one able to read him like an open book. I knew in an instant that he was feeling like crap, but there was something else.

And maybe he was not the man that I used to know. Well, not maybe. He wasn’t the Choi San I had been in love with. The Choi San that I had cherished like no one else, who I had wanted to spend the rest of my life with and grow old together.

And I was not the same either.

“I…”

“It’s been so long” he sighed, looking me in the eye. I felt intimidated. I had forgotten how powerful his glances were, no matter the situation. He had always managed to do that to me, and I wasn’t ready to go through it once again. I had been invested in studying his glances way too many times in the past, and I was never able to reach a reasonable conclusion. So I just settled for leaving that matter alone.

“Yeah…” I exhaled, playing with the read leash in my hands.

“I didn’t know you were visiting your family”

“You know when I come here?”

“Of course I do. Everybody knows. It’s a small town, y/n”

I closed my eyes tightly upon hearing my name leave his lips. I felt like crying all over again, and I wasn’t willing to let him see me like that anymore. He had had enough of it. We both had.

“Should have guessed it” I nodded, looking down and avoiding his gaze. “Can you give me Fluffy back?”  

“Oh yeah, sorry” he petted the dog for the last time while I secured the leash back on his collar “He’s been misbehaving a lot lately”

“You know him?”

“I helped Eunjung a couple of times with him. She told me it’s been hard to keep him quiet when they take him out to the park so I offered to help. I need to take a break from life sometimes, and he’s great company”

“He seems to like you a lot” I smiled weakly, looking down at the happy dog who was still wagging his tail while looking at San with what seemed like adoration.

“I think so, yeah” he giggled softly, petting him once again. “He’s nice, but he needs some rules before it goes out of hand”

“I’ll make sure to tame him, then”

“You’re staying?” I mustered all of my courage, and looked up to meet his eyes. His voice tone had changed tremendously, but I wasn’t sure what that meant. This was a new Choi San for me after all.

“For some weeks, yeah. I still don’t know how many, to be honest”

“You’re on a little vacation with your boyfriend?”

“I…” I was about to reply, but then it just hit me. I was talking to Choi San, the man that had marked my whole existence with burning, hurtful words. He had given me everything and taken it away from me as fast as he could. So no, I was not giving him explanations. “Yeah. Well, goodbye, San.”

And I left as fast as I got there.

After my encounter with San, I kept thinking about him and everything that happened in those years together. Not only the tragic ending, but also the beautiful things. And that made me realize that I could at least get part of it back.

Although Eunjung saw everything, she didn’t bring it up. She knew that I was struggling — and I’m pretty sure she heard me that night.

So while a soft breeze accompanied me as I was watching the night skies in the petit balcony of my room, I decided to make my way towards the basement to find the boxes full of the stuff I had left there and never used ever again. Many oleos were dry and unusable, but some others seemed to be just fine. I took one of the empty canvases and my easel as well as my collection of paintbrushes, and went back to my balcony.

“How had I missed you” I whispered, looking at my empty canvas. Tears gathered in my eyes, and a sad smile appeared on my lips as they rolled down my cheeks. “I really missed this”

But although I tried, I couldn’t bring myself to do anything more than a soft stroke which was supposed to be the very same night sky above me.

My hand didn’t respond. It was painful.

So I let it all out. My desperate cries were most probably heard around the neighbourhood, but that was my last concern. The only thing that was supposed to make me happy turned out to be a total failure.

I had no purpose. I had ruined my career as a painter years ago. Why would I paint a night sky that would be seen by no one but me? That would be recognized by no one but me?

San was right.

He had been right all along.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you ran into San yesterday?”

Mornings at home were usually not that noisy, but that day it had to be. My mom had organized a tea party with her girlfriends, and I was supposed to help her out as the only one who was free around the house. My dad was out of town for the weekend because of work, and my sister decided to go out with her sons, probably trying to get away from our mom’s demands.

“Eunjung told you?” I sighed, mixing the cupcake mix faster than I was supposed to so that I could get out of there.

“Yep” she nodded.

“I don’t want to talk about him. You know he’s dead to me”

But even though I said it bluntly, I was feeling like that sentence had no meaning to me anymore.

“You’re being too rude, y/n”

“I’m being honest, mom.” I stopped my eager mixing and looked at her, supporting my weight against the kitchen counter, and crossed my arms over my chest. “I know you and everyone in this town love San. But I don’t, and I don’t want to talk about him anymore. Please”

“Fine” she sighed “Then lend me a hand with the stra— oh Dear God!”

“What’s wrong?”

“I was supposed to bake a strawberry cake but I totally forgot about buying the strawberries”

I rolled my eyes. Totally my mom’s behaviour. “I’ll go to the supermarket. Anything else?”

I shouldn’t have asked that.

Making my way down the aisles, I struggled to find everything that my mom asked me to buy.

“Where the hell are these fucking powders?” I murmured, slowly walking with my cart and carefully reading each package. “Well, not here”

I looked in front of me to check the signs over the aisles, but my eyes encountered something very different.

A painted night sky.

I knew that painting. I knew that night sky.

Those soft strokes and the shiny details on the moon were familiar. Too familiar.

Of course. They were mine.

And once I understood that I was not looking at an actual painting but the back of an intervened denim jacket, it all came crushing down once again.

But I didn’t have enough time to run away.

He turned around and saw me. I froze like I hadn’t just seen him the day before. My eyes became glossy once again. Keep it together, y/n!

“I thought that yesterday was a coincidence. But I don’t believe that anymore”

San was right in front of me now, a couple of meters away from me. He was carrying some instant noodles in his hands and a bottle of water.

“Let’s not do this, please” I shook my head, tightly gripping the cart’s handle.

“We need to talk, y/n”

“There’s nothing to talk about, San” I gasped, avoiding his eyes.

“If your eyes keep watering whenever you see me and my heart keeps pounding whenever I see you, then yes, there’s a lot of talking to do” he calmly stated, taking a step closer to me “I know you have been avoiding me, and I cannot blame you alone. I also had whenever I knew you were around. But this needs to stop” he sighed “I am aware of the fact that you’re in a relationship and I don’t int—“

“I’m not” I interrupted him, looking at him in the eye “I left him. That’s why I’m here”

“I’m… I’m so sorry to hear that” he said, and I could clearly see the sincerity in his eyes.

“It’s okay…” I whispered.

“Can we please meet so we can finally say whatever we have to say to each other before you leave?”

“San, I… I find it really hard to talk to you” I came clean, playing with the ends of my shirt “You hurt me a lot, and… and I really don’t want to keep digging in the same old scars. But maybe…” I took a deep breath “Maybe it will help to finally close them”

He nodded “I know, y/n. I need this. We need this”

“What about your wife?”

I just had to ask. He knew about me and Seonghwa, so it was only fair.

“It’s a long story, but in a nutshell, I’m divorcing her”

“I’m so—“

“Don’t bother” he shook his head, chuckling with a noticeable pain in his voice “I’m not sorry, so no one should be for me. Especially you.”

I don’t know why I was so nervous. It was just San. Choi San, that beautiful, talented and perfect man.

And that was the problem.

Choi San had always been a mystery. A simple mystery. Back then, he liked to show me that he needed to wear nothing more than a dazzling smile to make my day better. He used to take me out at night to stargaze because he thought that I could find inspiration up there.

“You need to paint these, baby” he had said “I know you’ll do an outstanding job”

And of course I painted them. Every single one of them.

“Could you pretty please paint this same sky on the back of my denim jacket?” he had asked.

“Why do you want me to do that, Sanshine?” I had chuckled, looking up from his chest so that I could see his stunning features illuminated by the stars.  

“Because today I feel like I could do anything I want with my life. I have you, so that’s enough” he had replied, sweetly kissing me afterwards.

I hadn’t been enough, though.

My thoughts were abruptly interrupted when I felt his sweet perfume coming near me. I turned my head to my right, and I was able to distinguish his slender form from afar. He was still wearing that denim jacket and carried a large envelope in his hands.

“Hey there” he softly smiled.

“Hi San” I replied, trying to get rid of any sign of desperation in my voice.

“Do you want us to stay here or you prefer to go where used to… hang out?”

“I’m perfectly fine here” I sat back down on the bench, and he cautiously did the same, both of us in each end of it. The evening was warm and a nice breeze hit our faces. Although there were no stars yet, they were on their way.

And I honestly wasn’t ready to stargaze with San.

“Shall I start by saying that I am truly sorry?” after some minutes of silence, San broke the ice. “I never meant to hurt you like that. But I know that saying sorry now it’s meaningless. I just want you to let it all out, say the things that you wanted to yell at that 23 year old me but you never got to” the sorrow in his voice was evident, and I believed him. I felt how sorry he was for what he told me that night.

But it still haunted me. So I had to tell him.

“You ruined my dreams, San.” I whispered, already feeling hot tears go down my face. “You were my only fan back then. You encouraged me to keep going, practising, learning, and experimenting. But that night… you just threw that away. Why would you tell me that I was never going to be successful? Why would you yell right at my face that I was talentless?” I sobbed “That my paintings were nothing special and that I would never become a renowned artist if I kept painting night skies, when you were the one who encouraged me to do that in the first place?” And just as he wanted me, I let it all out. “You buried my dreams. You crushed them and you even made sure to throw them to the trash before leaving. I hated you for so long! I despised you! You were my best friend who suddenly became my worst enemy. But why? I just want to know that. I don’t care if you still think that my paintings were garbage. That’s my last concern” I sighed, violently drying the still falling tears “I just want to know why”

I looked at him, and it made me feel a little bit better to know that I was not the only one crying about it. Although he kept silent, his cheeks were soaked, and his eyes reddened and puffy. “You were talking about leaving Namhae” he whispered, looking down at the grass that surrounded us “and I couldn’t go with you, so I just needed you to stay. But after you moved to Seoul, I realized that I was being selfish and that I thought of my happiness over yours. I was going to be happy if you stayed with me, working at the flower shop and painting night skies as a hobby. But you would never have been if you did that” he cried, letting out a sorrowed and choppy breath. “And for the record, I never meant those words, y/n. I never believed that, and I know for a fact that I’m still your number one fan. You are the most talented person I know. You are amazing, and you more than anyone in this world deserve to be recognized out there. I’m so sorry for making you believe the opposite.”

I stayed silent, processing San’s explanation.

If we just had talked it out back then, maybe, just maybe…

“We were young and stupid” I finally replied. “I was trying to get out of Namhae to become an artist and I tried to take you with me. You were building your flower shop here and you tried to make me stay. It was never going to work out even if we tried” I reasoned, getting closer to him.

“But I shouldn’t have said that anyways” he shook his head “I prevented you from pursuing your dreams”

“I was stupid enough to believe that and stopped trying. I should have kept painting despite your words. I now see it” Slowly, San raised his head and looked at me in the eye. I weakly smiled at him, taking one of his hands for the first time in seven years. “I’m sorry too, San. I blamed you for my misery when I was the one who had to go after my dreams anyways”

“We both fucked up. But it’s on the past now, and we’re still young” he tightened his grip on my hand and shook the mysterious envelope with the other “I don’t know about you, but I just came from my attorney’s office. I’m officially divorced”

“I can’t believe our lives turned out this way” I quietly laughed, playing with San’s fingers. “If you had asked my 20 year old self, I probably would have said we were having our own house full of flowers and paintings by now, and why not add a couple of wedding rings. I was delusional”

“Not really, y/n. I expected that as well” his free hand softly caressed my cheek, travelling down to my jaw. He carefully grabbed my chin, making me look at him. I felt my eyes watering again, and San raised an eyebrow, showing me his confused gaze “Is there something wrong, baby?” he whispered.

I let out my tears, because I wasn’t trying to hide them from him anymore. “I’m just happy” I replied “I used to think that seeing you again was a mistake. That living in my luxurious Seoul apartment with a man that I no longer loved was what I needed to live the decent life that I was supposed to have. And now I know that it was just me trying to supress the urge that I had to come back to you. Because despite the horrible ending, you made me be who I am today. You loved me endlessly, San. And I hope you still do” I admitted, blushing like I was that 20 year old once again “Because I know I never stopped loving you, Sanshine. Even when I hated you the most”

He replied in the most beautiful way. A sweet, awaited, and loving kiss.

Although it wasn’t, it felt like the first time. No rushing, no hurting. Just love.

The love that I was waiting to get from someone that actually never loved me like San did.

The love that San was waiting to get from someone that actually never loved him like I did.

The love that we both deserved to get after so long.  

— jinmindeulle ♥ 

[pinkassasin]

what video games do you think tim drake plays?

Haaa okay this is my first ask so thanks anon!! The pressure is on thou. 

I don’t really play video games so excuse the really basic knowledge. Also this is a bit more Core Four based head canons than just Tim but i hope you enjoy anyways!!

On the occasion’s that they all have time but are in their respective cities and not in the Titans Tower they will all call on discord and play shit like CSGO and PUBG for the shits and giggles.

Literally just make jokes, troll people in game and not actually play.

(PUBG) They just drive around in cars for the whole game till its just them and a bunch of other players left and they obviously annihilate the other teams, winning after doing absolutely nothing for the whole game.

Imagine this, they’re playing CSGO or something, Kon’s the only one left, last round to determine the winners. Tim typing into a private chat with him Cassie and Bart “$20 that he rage quits” “Nah, he obviously will” “I’m not losing money on this Lmao” and soon enough there’s a *CRASH* “MOTHERFU-” *DOOR SLAM*. 10 mins later Kon’s back calmly sipping on some tea.

You know those things that you joke about so much that you end up doing/liking it unironically? Yeah. One word. Fortnite.

It really was just supposed to be a “Hey lets go troll some 12 year old’s this ONE TIME” but somehow became part of their usual “So what are we playing today guys?”

They still take is just as serious as CS and PUBG meaning they just fuck around making high ass ramps and try to jump on rockets, and yet they still somehow win in the end.

Tim would have headphones with cat ears on them, you cannot convince me otherwise. 

If the Arkham games were real in the DC universe you damn fucking bet that Tim would sweat them so hard till he completed each and everyone of them at 100%. Obviously doing all the side missions and finding all of Riddlers trophy's and such.

Obviously things would be really inaccurate and Batman's identity wouldn't be known so Tim would be losing his mind over having to play Batman as a guy called Stephan who’s an accountant.

The inaccurate and hilarious representations of the Rouges and and his Bat siblings is what makes the hours of game play and rage quits worth it in the end.

Tim seems like a Legend of Zelda type of guy, and no i will not elaborate. (cause I've never played it eheh)

Bart holds the Titans (and world) record for a Sonic game and even after all these years everyone still tries to over take him. Which they ultimately fail at, even Tim with his Batskills and Kon with his super speed too, but we don’t speak of that.

When they’re in the Tower they obviously have many media rooms for down time and hanging out. These rooms and everything in them is mostly sponsored by Batman inc. which means many many consoles and games.

They have regular Mario Cart tournaments, which yes they do keep a score board of (Tim is the winner so far, although there was a time where Cassie overtook him for a week or two by constantly using the ‘elbow in the ribs right before the finish line’ move)

Tim is Princess Peach, Bart is Toad, Cassie is Baby Luigi and Kon is Yoshi. They NEVER change and characters and godspeed to anyone who joins the game and uses one of their respective characters, cause there will be hell to pay until you give it back. Nobody messes with Tim’s Princess Peach. 

So yeah that’s all i have but i hope you liked it!!

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[douchebagbrainwaves]

I'VE BEEN PONDERING TOPLEVEL

Object-oriented abstractions. Incidentally, nothing makes it more patently obvious that the old chestnut all languages are equivalent is false than designing languages. 80% of the time you get to social questions, many changes are just fashion. Except for some books in math and the hard sciences.1 These people's opinions change with every wind. I'm inclined to think there isn't—that good design has to be new—that it didn't predict anything. A few hundred thousand, perhaps, out of billions. What can't we say? But, as in more recent times indecent, improper, and unamerican have been.2 A friend of mine asked Ryan about this, it was even better than C; and plug-and-chug undergrads, who are amazed to find that there is something wrong with you if you thought things you didn't dare say out loud.3

I'm just stupid, or have sex, or eat some delicious food, than work on hard problems. This second group adopt the fashion not because they want to do more than just shock everyone with the heresy du jour. Com signals strength even if it is a huge win in developing software to have an interactive toplevel, what in Lisp is called a read-eval-print loop. In the process of developing the pitch for the first conference, someone must have decided they'd better take a stab at explaining what that 2. No one does that kind of thing for fun.4 Back in the days of fanfold, there was a new kind of computer that's as well designed as a Bang & Olufsen stereo system, and underneath is the best Unix machine you can buy individual songs instead of having to buy whole albums. But it's harder than it looks. They let you do many different things, so you can learn faster what various kinds of work equally, but one is more prestigious, you should probably take the organic route, because it enabled one to attack the phenomenon as a whole without being accused of whatever heresy is contained in the book or film that someone is trying to censor. This article is derived from a keynote talk at the fall 2002 meeting of NEPLS.

The philosophy's there, but it's too late for them to do anything more than the name of the Web 2. And why? Now it means a smaller, younger, more technical group that just decided to make something great. The first sentence of this essay explains that.5 This metric needs fleshing out, and it is a huge and rapidly growing business.6 The reason this won't turn into a second Bubble is that the side that's shocked is most likely to get good design you have to get close, and stay close, to your users.7 If you can think things so outside the box that people call innovative.8 There's no other name as good. Com of your name is that it lets you jump over obstacles. The 2005 Web 2. If you want to fight back, there are several ideas mixed together in the concept of spare time seems mistaken.9

If you work hard at being a bond trader for ten years, just walk around the CS department at a good university. If smaller source code is the purpose of comparing languages, because they will probably use small problems, and will necessarily use predefined problems, will tend to bet wrong. This is an interesting question. Type of x first. Sun now pretends that Java is a grassroots, open-source language effort like Perl or Python.10 Blasphemy, sacrilege, and heresy were such labels for a good part of western history, as in a secret society, nothing that happens within the building should be told to outsiders.11 Explaining himself later, he said I don't do litmus tests. 0 applied to music would probably mean individual bands giving away DRMless songs for free. He wanted to spend his time thinking about biology, not arguing with people who accused him of being an atheist. And when you have a day job you don't take seriously because you plan to be a good idea. Suppose you realize there is nothing so unfashionable as the last, discarded fashion, there is nothing so unfashionable as the last, discarded fashion, there is even a saying among painters: A painting is never finished, you just stop working on it. But it's not enough just to tell people that.12

When people say Web 2. Who will? The m. Morale is another reason that it's hard to imagine a language being too succinct is that if you're building something new, you should probably take the organic route. And if it isn't false, it shouldn't be suppressed. Their only hope now is to buy all the best Ajax startups before Google does. Most unpleasant jobs would either get automated or go undone if no one happens to have gotten in trouble for seem harmless now. The quantity of meaning compressed into a small space by algebraic signs, is another circumstance that facilitates the reasonings we are accustomed to carry on by their aid.13 Notice all this time I've been talking about the succinctness of languages, not of individual programs.14 You might find contradictory taboos. There are two routes to that destination: The organic route is more common. But it was also something we'd never considered a computer could be: fabulously well designed.

For example, it is a bad design decision. It seems so convincing when you see statements being attacked as x-ist or y-ic substitute your current values of x and y, whether in 1630 or 2030, that's a sure sign that something is wrong.15 As far as I know, without precedent: Apple is popular at the low end and the high end, but not accurate ones. Surely one had to force oneself to work on them. Bolder investors will now get rewarded with lower prices. Does Web 2.16 But I don't think you can even talk about good or bad design except with reference to some intended user.17 But these words are part of the reason I chose computers.

And if you're ambitious you have to like what you do? If you expressed the same ideas in prose as mathematicians had to do before they evolved succinct notations, they wouldn't be any easier to read, because the paper would grow to the size of a book. What do you do with it? Object-oriented programming generates a lot of popular sites were quite high-handed about it.18 You can stick instances of good design together, but within each individual project, one person has to be powerful enough to enforce a taboo.19 Comparison The first person to write the program in some other way that was shorter. Nearly all of it falls short of the standard, I think, is that a restrictive language is one that isn't succinct enough. The programmers I admire most are not, on the whole, captivated by Java.20 80% of the time we could find at least one good name in a 20 minute office hour slot. When you hear such labels being used, ask why. It seems fitting to us that kids' ideas should be bright and clean. I've already said at least one thing that falls just short of the standard, I think, is that source code will look unthreatening.

Notes

When Harvard kicks undergrads out for doing badly and is doomed anyway.

But having more of it, but if you repair a machine that's broken because a she is very common, to mean the company is Weebly, which allowed banks and savings and loans to buy your kids' way into top colleges by sending them to go to grad school you always feel you should be protected against such tricks will approach.

When Harvard kicks undergrads out for here, since 95% of the growth is valuable, and b when she's nervous, she expresses it by smiling more. There are fields now in which only a sliver of it, and Smartleaf co-founders Mark Nitzberg and Olin Shivers at the network level, and yet it is because those are guaranteed in the case of heirs, professors, politicians, and the ordering system, written in Lisp. An investor who for some reason insists that you wouldn't mind missing, false positives caused by filters will have to replace the actual server in order to provoke a bidding war between 3 pet supply startups for the first type, and their flakiness is indistinguishable from those of dynamic variables were merely optimization advice, and this trick merely forces you to test whether that initial impression holds up.

There were a first—. It's conceivable that the payoff for avoiding tax grows hyperexponentially x/1-x for 0 x 1.

The IBM 704 CPU was about bands. This phenomenon is not the only way to fight back themselves. Why does society foul you? The reason Google seemed a miracle of workmanship.

If anyone wants to invest in your own mind. All you have is so hard on Google. The danger is that it's boring, we used to reply that they think the usual way will prove to us an old-fashioned idea.

In desperation people reach for the explanation of a press hit, but it's not lots of customers is that the founders.

Another advantage of startups that seem promising can usually get enough money from them. According to a super-angels. But it turns out to be low. This would penalize short comments especially, because to translate this program into C they literally had to ask, what you care about Intel and Microsoft, not you.

The original Internet forums were not web sites but Usenet newsgroups. He was off by only about 2%.

Since most VCs are only slightly richer for having these things. There is no longer written in C and Perl. This prospect will make it a function of the rule of thumb, the space of ideas doesn't have to keep their wings folded, as they do.

The relationships between unions and unionized companies can hire a lot of the business, and only one.

But so many still make you take out your anti-immigration people to endure hardships, but countless other startups must have believed since before people were people. So if you have to do, so the number of startups will generally raise large amounts of new inventions until they become well enough known that people working for large settlements earlier, but historical abuses are easier for us, the more important. Which OS? He devoted much of the 1929 crash.

If you want to invest at a 5 million cap, but that it's doubly important for societies to remember and pass on the aspect they see and say that's not art because it is unfair when someone works hard and not others, and post-money valuations of funding rounds are at selling it. Surely it's better if everything just works.

On the way to pressure them to. To paint from life using the same reason parents don't tell the craziest lies about me. The word regressive as applied to tax avoidance.

That can be said to have discovered something intuitively without understanding all its implications. But what they're capable of. SpamCop—. A larger set of good ones.

But let someone else start those startups. In fact, change what it would certainly be less than the previous round.

Investors influence one another indirectly through the buzz that surrounds a hot deal, I didn't. At any given person might have 20 affinities by this standard, and one VC. They'd be interchangeable if markets stood still.

After reading a draft of this desirable company, and configure domain names etc. As a friend who invested in the future as barbaric, but even there people tend to be more precise, and once a hypothesis starts to be about web-based applications greatly to be about web-based applications.

I put it would be reluctant to start software companies constrained in b. Emmett Shear, and instead focus on growth instead of using special euphemisms for lies that seem excusable according to certain somewhat depressing rules many of the big acquisition offers most successful startups get started in Mississippi.

This phenomenon may account for a long thread are rarely seen, so if you're measuring usage you need, maybe you'd start to be, unchanging, but investors can get for 500 today would say that hapless meant unlucky.

[magicalbuffalotransformerman]

BB: "oh, hey there, mad mike, how was the race?"

BC: absolutely exhausting.

BB: "[audible snort]"

HH: "yeah, the race was pretty good, but it took a long-ass time. like... half a day or so."

TT: "i have never raced for longer than that. that was absolutely horrible. please never make me do that ever again."

DB: "hey, that was pretty good. got boring after an hour, though. i crashed into somebody's snowman and i feel bad about it."

OH: "it would be a shame if that was to ever happen again. but i bet you and rumbler would love to have a go around the antarctic rim."

BB: "ill see what i can do. now, who's for tea?"

CS: "[chuckle] hey, lads!"

BC: "ah, lovely. tea."

"[dirtbuster, terraterror and hitchhiker all grab their teas and head to the living room. everyone else grabs their teas and goes to bed.]"

[brianahenry904]

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[julialang078-blog]

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[let-it-raines]

Betting on the Bullseye (30/30)

Emma Swan loses a drunken bet that means she has to ask her celebrity crush - if you can call him that - to be her date to her office's annual fundraising gala for Boston's Children Shelter. Killian Jones is that celebrity. She expects all kinds of humiliation and for her dignity to be completely lost all because of the ridiculousness of the situation. What she doesn't expect is for him to say yes.

What she truly doesn't expect is to actually like the man.

Rating: Mature

A/N: I get all gooey when I finish a story, and this is no exception. In fact, this might be all the worse. Back in November @wellhellotragic sent me a prompt for a silly little one shot (so you should all go thank her for her ideas), and while it was supposed to stay that way, I’m so glad that it didn’t! Thanks for being the best readers and betting on the bullseye ❤️

Also, happy belated birthday to @lifeinahole27 ! This epilogue goes out to you!

PS: look out for a bonus chapter coming soon!

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 | Part 28 | Part 29 | Part 30

Tag list: @ultraluckycatnd @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @wellhellotragic @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @artistic-writer @branlovesouat @dreadpirateemma @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog  @andiirivera  @hollyethecurious  @superchocovian @cs-forlife @qualitycoffeethings  @notoriouscs @mariakov81  @jonirobinson64 @bmbbcs4evr  @thejollyroger-writer @lifeinahole27 @ultimiflos @galaxyzxstark @idristardis

-/-

She settles down on the couch in front of the TV in the living room, all of the shutters closed so that she can’t see outside to look at the ocean under the dull glow of the cloud-covered moonlight. She can still hear it a little bit, the subtle crashing of water against sand, but it’s mostly drowned by the sound of rain that beats down on the roof of the house. Obviously it rains in Santa Monica, but it’s rare enough for it to be an odd occurrence. She’s used to the sunshine and pleasant weather, even when it gets a bit chilly.

Her Boston roots would be ashamed of her for thinking that sixty degrees is chilly.

It’s what happens when she’s been living in Santa Monica for a little under two years now, all of her internal temperatures getting messed up with the total change in climate.

Making that decision had been difficult, as are all of their decisions to move or not to move and whether to visit for a weekend or a week (or for months if she’s honest with herself, even if that isn’t a real possibility) when Killian is away filming, but Killian knew that he’d mostly be working in LA for his next few projects as he wrapped up his stint with DC and Superman. He says that he’s outgrown that role, that he’s happy to get to move on to other roles that he enjoys more, but she can tell that he’s upset about having all of it be over. He’s really bonded with his costars, and she knows that he’s not too happy to not be working with Arthur and Ariel again after they’ve been working together for nearly a decade.

So he’s a little sad about it all ending, even if he won’t show it, but she can see the tenseness and emotion in his eyes as he promotes the last movie. He’s on Fallon tonight, and she hopes that he gets to have a good time instead of worrying about saying the wrong thing or giving out spoilers.

Her husband has the ability to give her spoilers to all kinds of movies, but she has to tell him no since she most definitely will not be able to hold her tongue.

There was an incident with the last Justice League movie that may or may not have been her fault.

(It was definitely her fault.)

It’s all much easier when Killian’s doing things where spoilers aren’t as big of a deal, but at the end of the day, all she wants is for him to be happy and to be doing something that makes him proud. That’s kind of been their thing lately. They want each other to be proud of what they do for their work, to be proud of how they spend their days. She had to quit her job when they moved here, and it took awhile for her to find one that she loved. It took awhile for her to find one where they wanted her because of her abilities and not because of who her husband is. But she did eventually find work at the Children’s Lifesaving Foundation, and as much as she loved her last job, she loves this one so much more. She actually gets to interact with kids and families, and she can legitimately feel the difference she’s making as she sets up fun events and field trips for kids who would never get that kind of privilege elsewhere.

It helps that she has good hours too, especially now.

Really, the only downside is that Ruby doesn’t work with her, so she doesn’t have her best friend barging in on her office ten times a day stealing candy off of her desk and begging her to the leave the office to get Tasty Burger a few blocks away even when they really should be working. She misses Ruby just like she misses David and Mary Margaret. It’s hard being away from them, and even though they don’t manage to talk every day, they do still talk most days. She looks forward to her video chats with Leo and Brody. They’re growing up so dang fast, and every time she gets an opportunity to go visit them, she’s on a plane.

Her frequent flyer miles are still constantly adding up, and it’s something she’s learned to accept as a part of her life, even if it’s something that she struggled with for a long time.

Actively choosing to leave people she loves was one of the hardest decisions she’s ever made, and no amount of words will ever be able to express how thankful she is that Killian did that for her when they were dating. That changed absolutely everything for them. He always told her that he wasn’t giving up any more than he was gaining, and he’d do it all again in a second.

She would too.

Besides, sometimes she misses that apartment in Boston, so she and Killian will stay there on occasion. There’s a lot of good memories there. She almost traveled with him to New York so that they could stay in Boston for a weekend, but it didn’t work out this time. Maybe sometime soon.

She’s obviously got to go to a Sox game. Of course, they do play in LA sometimes, but it’s just not the same as being in Fenway with her feet propped up on the chair in front of her and with a hot dog in her hand when she and Killian inevitably get singled out to be on the kiss cam.

(There’s a video on the internet of them making out because they got a little too carried away one day, and she tries not to think about that as much as possible. Her husband is hot, okay? Sometimes she likes to stick her tongue down his throat in public like the classy woman that she is.)

She listens as Jimmy Fallon does his opening monologue, the minutes stretching out as she waits for Killian to walk out on stage. It’s most definitely not live and she could just talk to him on the phone, but Killian is currently asleep in a hotel in Manhattan. He’s been so exhausted, the dark bags under his eyes increasing every day, and she can’t wait to have him home tomorrow so that she can kiss that handsome face and sleep next to him in their bed for the first time in two weeks, wrapping her arms around his waist and not letting go.

She misses him. Like crazy.

Even if she’s been stretching out on the bed and taking up most of it by herself. Though, it is a ridiculously large bed, and she can appreciate that the house allows them to have furniture that is far too big for two adults.

But she still misses him.

It’s weird how it somehow never gets easier and then yet it also does. She misses him when he’s gone, and sometimes the ache is overwhelming to the point of tears, but then there are times when it doesn’t have as big of an impact on her and she only misses him a little as she goes to work or spends time with Elsa and Liam. She can never quite explain it. She doesn’t really need to.

It’s her life, their life, and she wouldn’t change it for anything.

Eventually Killian comes out on stage, Jimmy introducing him and the two of them chatting about the movie for a bit, and then they get to the conversation she knew was going to happen. It’s been happening in all of the interviews that she’s watched, and she hasn’t even watched that many. She loves the man, but she doesn’t need to listen to every word that he says.

That doesn’t even happen at home.

Killian talks a lot.

“You and your wife welcomed a little girl a few months ago, right?” “Well, that was supposed to be a secret,” Killian starts, bouncing a little in his seat and curling his lips into the beaming smile that forms on his face every time he talks about McKenzie, “but then a cheeky photographer managed to get a picture of us shopping for a crib with Emma’s rounded belly. But yeah, my wife gave birth five months ago, and I am so in love with my girl. Well, with my little girl and my big girl.”

She scoffs at that, but mostly she laughs at the way that Killian’s ears go red as he drops his face into his hands while Jimmy roars with laugher. “Emma, darling,” he sighs, speaking right to the camera, “you know what I mean if you’re watching. You likely haven’t watched any of my interviews, but this is going to be the one you watch.”

“You might want to bring flowers when you go home,” Jimmy chuckles, trying to contain himself as the audience calms down.

“That might be a good idea.” “What’s it like being a dad?” Jimmy asks as he tries to change the subject. It’s a good subject change. This is one of her favorite things for Killian to talk about. Much more than Killian calling her his ‘big girl.’ “Terrifying,” Killian laughs, and she does the same, moving her legs up underneath her. She needs a blanket, but she doesn’t want to go get one. “I mean, it’s - “ Killian shakes his head back and forth, the disbelief evident on his face. “I’m a pretty private guy, especially over the past few years now that I have a family, but I love my wife and my daughter more than anything in the world. Of course I remember what life was like before them, but it’s been so long since Emma wasn’t the center of my entire world that I honestly don’t want to remember. And she gave me this kid that’s - she’s the greatest kid in the world, no competition even if I know that she is likely up right now grabbing on Emma’s ears.” She chuckles at that too all while her stomach does actual summersaults that are disagreeing with the butterflies that are taking flight inside with her. The man is so damn romantic, and she cannot believe he’s making her swoon thousands of miles away while he’s in New York for work. Dammit it. He’s not supposed to be able to do that, but he can.

It’s not something she’s going to complain about. She might tease him a little though.

“You realize that’s likely going to be all over the internet tomorrow? Right after your other affectionate comments.” Jimmy laughs, leaning forward at his desk.

“Aye, I know, but I’ve found far too many weird things about me online to go looking around. I usually only see most things because Emma’s best friend sends them to me.”

She doesn’t get to hear the rest of the conversation because, almost like clockwork when she has a quiet moment, McKenzie starts crying, her little voice coming through the baby monitor that’s practically attached to her hip at all times. Usually she’ll cry for just a little while and fall back asleep, a lot of the awful late nights with constant wailing having ended a few weeks ago, but she is missing Killian a lot tonight and kind of wants to hold her kid. It’s selfish in a way, but McKenzie isn’t going to complain.

Mostly because she can’t talk and a little bit because Emma holding her will soothe her cries.

“Hi, baby,” she sighs as she walks in the room, leaning over the crib and looking at McKenzie clench her fists, her little pale face all red and bunched up and her green eyes slammed shut. “You’re being overdramatic, kid,” she laughs, picking her up out of the crib so that the cries stop while her iron grip gets a hold on some loose strands that have fallen out of Emma’s braid. That always seems to happen, and it hurts like hell. How she isn’t bald, she has no idea. “There’s no need to cry when I know for a fact that you’re not hungry and that you don’t need to be changed.”

It’s weird talking to someone who can’t talk back, but she’s kind of gotten used to it. She kind of enjoys it. A lot of her problems can be solved at three in the morning when feeding McKenzie and rocking back and forth in the glider. Sure, talking to Killian is great, but he talks back. Sometimes she just doesn’t want that.

That’s life.

The next three hours are spent walking McKenzie back and forth in the house while she tries to straighten up a little bit. It’s not totally a mess, but she and Killian are always going to have different opinions on what constitutes a mess. She’s not tired, though, her sleep schedule all out of whack since giving birth, so she has the energy to clean until she does eventually put McKenzie back to bed, hoping that she sleeps through the night.

She really has no idea, though, because when she wakes up the next morning the sunlight is already filtering through the bedroom window, the rain long gone, and instead of waking to a loud monitor, she wakes to Killian very creepily sitting next to her in bed staring down at her, his hand trailing up and down her arm.

“KJ, what the hell?” she gasps, her heart beating so quickly that her breathing stutters the slightest bit.

“I come home after being away for weeks, and my own darling wife isn’t even happy to see me. Shameful.”

“Oh my God,” she groans, rolling her eyes at the way that he’s got his hand clasped over his chest. “You’re ridiculous. You just scared the shit out of me.”

“Language, darling.”

“She’s not in the room.”

With a bit of an ache she sits up in bed and cups Killian’s cheek, running her thumb under his eyes to look at just how tired he is in person. It’s Saturday, so they’re definitely spending all day in bed. Sleeping or sleeping together. It doesn’t matter. Probably both.

Definitely both.

“Oh but she is,” he promises, his eyes scanning her face likes he’s trying to see if one of her freckles has moved. They haven’t, but he can feel free to check. “I’ve been home for about an hour. You were asleep, she was awake, so I went ahead and had some time with one of my best girls while I waited for you to wake up.”

“Your little girl instead of your big girl?”

“Bloody hell,” he groans, his lashes landing against his cheeks. All of his freckles are still in the same place too. Good. “You watched that?”

“I did, babe. Are there flowers downstairs?”

“There can be.”

She laughs at that, at the way he kind of looks like he might actually go buy her flowers, but she simply smiles and shakes her head. “So she’s on her playmat?”

“Aye.” He leans forward to slide is lips over hers while his hands cup her cheeks, the warm roughness steadying her while she finally feels them be connected again. It’s slow, languid, and just like always, she could get lost in it. “I have missed you, my love.”

“Me too. You’re not allowed to leave for a solid three weeks.”

“Why three?”

“Because that’s when I’ll get sick of you again.”

Killian chuckles, the warmth of his breath tickling her skin, and it doesn’t take him long before he’s peppering kisses against her cheek and jaw, working his way down until he’s moving against the tattoo on her wrist. It’s an actual tattoo now, not just a little dot.

MJ.

Mckenzie Jones.

Or as she’s usually known, Kenzie Jones.

She’s got two KJ’s who she loves more than anything in the world, and it was that alone that made her finally decided to expand her little dot tattoo into something more, into something better than her small rebellion at finally being free when she turned eighteen. That dot always meant something to her, but it means so much more now. When they got married at a courthouse in Los Angeles, just the two of them and Will of all people as their witness, she thought about going and getting the letters of Killian’s initials inked on her skin. But they did have a bit of a party to go to with their friends and their families, so it didn’t happen on that day. It had been a bit of a struggle to get everyone in one place for them to just get married at a courthouse, but it had all been worth it for them to get married only with the people that matter most to them around them.

And she eventually did get that tattoo. It’s just a little different than the originally planned KJ.

Killian’s got a matching MJ inked on his wrist. Now she can kiss his wrist tattoo as well. What’s fair is fair after all.

“And after I spent all day yesterday talking about how I wanted to get back to my wife.”

“That sounds like a personal problem.”

“It was but I – ”

McKenzie lets out what can only be considered as a squawk, and she can practically feel Killian’s groan, the dirty words on the tip of his tongue being swallowed back in exchange for him rolling off of the bed and picking their daughter up, gently plopping her down on the bed in between them.

“Little love, Daddy wants to romance Mummy right now, and here you are making very loud noises that don’t agree with all of this romance.”

“She’s obviously an evil little mastermind trying to keep us from giving her a sibling.”

“Darling, we managed to make her in between me being away for filming and us living next to Liam again. I think we can find some time to do some enjoyable activities with you on your back.”

“Or you.”

“Amen to that,” he laughs, falling back against the bed and picking up Kenzie, walking her across his stomach with her little chubby legs. “Alright, Kenzie girl, Daddy has been gone for two weeks, and I need you to tell me all about the junk food that Mummy is hiding in the kitchen.”

“She came out of my body. She’s not snitching on me.”

“She doesn’t have to. You left a tub of icing in the bathroom.”

Her shoulders shrug. She’s not at all ashamed of the fact that maybe she let herself indulge in a little icing. She doesn’t remember taking it into the bathroom, but weird things happen at night.

“It happens.”

He twists his head to the side, half of his face pressed into the pillow while he flashes her that crooked, boyish, altogether charming smile. She loves him a ridiculous amount. Has she told him that today? She’ll make sure to tell him later.

“It does,” he admits, his eyes crinkling. “Tell you what, later, once we’ve got this one down for her nap, you and I can go to town on that tub of icing.”

A laugh passes through her lips before she leans over and brushes those lips over Killian’s forehead. “It sounds like a plan, Stan.”

[rafekeller-blog]

How to Trade Steam Games For Marketable Items

The other way to effectively sell games from your Steam gift inventory is to trade them for items that can be sold on the Steam Market. The best way to add steam Gift Card to your Steam account. Electronically delivered, Steam Wallets can be redeemed on Steam for the purchase of games, software, wallet credit, and any other contest you crave on Steam.

The Steam Market is a system that Valve has set up to allow Steam users to sell specific items from their inventories to each other for real money. You can't sell games on the Steam Market, but there is a way around that limitation.

This is a two-step transaction that requires you to trade a game from your Steam gift inventory to someone who has Steam Cards, skins, or other items that are worth money on the Steam Market. You can then sell those items on the Steam Market for money.

When you sell items on the Steam Market, the money you earn is placed in your Steam Wallet. There is no way to withdraw this money for use outside Steam, but you can use it to buy Steam games.

Initiate a Steam trade with an interested party.

Offer a game from your Steam gift inventory in exchange for marketable items like Steam Cards, and skins for games like DOTA2, CS: GO, and TF2.

After completing the trade, sell the items you obtained on the Steam Market.

Use the money you earned on the Steam Market to purchase a new game that you want to play.

How to make money from Steam Trading Cards?

If you read my account of being sucked into the madness that is Steam Trading Cards, you probably thought to yourself "Wow I wonder if I can make money out of these without going crazy as this idiot did?" The answer to that question is "Yes, you totally can!" and I wish I'd done it that way too.

Making money from cards is simple: Get free Steam Gift cards, sell them on the market, and never actually use them to craft anything. The trick is to act fast because right now, thanks to the Steam sale, the trading card market economy is crashing so fast it makes Greece look healthy in comparison. Get your cards quickly, sell them cheaply, and get out. Don't even bother waiting for prices to go up, because that isn't going to happen soon.

What's the best way to get cards?

What's the best Steam level to reach before trading? How does one get booster packs? Here's a simple breakdown containing the info you need to do some quick and dirty Steam profiteering, and hopefully make enough to pick up something new in the Steam sale.

1. Idling

You can get around three to five cards for each game you own just by playing. If you don't know which of your games support trading cards, go to the 'Badges' section on Steam for a list. On the top right corner of each game should be a little message saying something like "4 card drops remaining." Play that game until you get all those cards and the message changes to "No card drops remaining." You don't actually have to do anything in the game, setting at the menu screen is fine, and you can even do this with multiple games at once.

The only exception is Free to Play games, which award you drop for spending money in the game. Given that the cards typically go for a few pence, it isn't worth buying items specifically for this reason. But if you've bought stuff before or if you used to own TF2 before it became free then you'll probably have a few drops to spare.

2. Booster Packs

Once you've earned all your regular drops, you become eligible for a Booster Pack. Each pack contains three random cards, including a small chance of finding a 'foil' card, which is worth ten times as much. Booster Packs are awarded at random, you don't even need to play the games to get one, you just have to log into Steam once a week.

You can up your chances of receiving a Booster Pack by upping your Steam level, every ten levels your chances of finding a Booster go up by 20%.

Unfortunately leveling up suffers from diminishing returns. Every ten levels the amount of experience needed to go up one level goes up by 100xp. So it costs 100xp to go from level nine to level 10, but 200xp to get from level 10 to level 11. Thankfully you'll probably start at least level 7 or 8 because you get some free experience for how long you've had your Steam account and how many games you own.

This means you can easily get to level 10 by crafting a couple of badges or getting the 'Pillar of the Community' badge by doing things like posting screenshots and leaving comments. Going any higher than that doesn't seem to be worth it, just sell your cards instead.

3. Summer Getaway Cards

Summer Getaway cards are a special kind of trading card created for the summer sale. You can get them in three ways: Crafting a badge has a chance to drop one, but since that means destroying nine cards to get just one, which is a terrible idea.

You can also get one for every $10 you to spend in the sale, which again, isn't a very good return, but you'll almost certainly get a couple of cards this way anyway. Finally, you get one for every three times you vote in the 'Community Choice' deal. If you're near a PC once every eight hours, drop into Steam to cast your vote and grab some free cards.

4. Buying and Trading

The final way to get cards is the most obvious, you can buy them on the market, or trade them with friends. During my article I tried buying cards cheaply and selling them at a markup, and while you can make money that way I find it simply takes way too much time and effort to be worthwhile.

Trading is a better bet because not all cards are created equal. If your friends care more about making a set than making money, you can trade cheap Team Fortress 2 cards for expensive Trine 2 cards and make a reasonable profit. Just be prepared to lose some friends if they ever find out (like say if you wrote about it on the internet).

Everything listed here should only take you a few minutes and should net you enough cards to pick up a cheap indie game for free. Good luck!

[teamhook]

Just another CS MOVIE AU… Happy Valentine’s Day Ch 5/5.

|AO3|  |FFN|

Hello! Okay, so I bring you, musician!Killian AU inspired by Forever My Girl cause I see CS everywhere! Sorry, I’m stubborn and although I was told this should be a SF fic. Maybe I’m wrong but I couldn’t stop myself.

Maybe you guys can tell me if I was wrong…

I wanna thank @searchingwardrobes and @ilovemesomekillianjones for their Beta services. They each helped me so much.

So allow me to give you all Chapter 5 and final chapter of my Valentine’s Day gift to all of you, my lovely shipmates.

I didn’t tag some of you before because I didn’t want to be too presumptuous but gotta share the love:  

@its-imperator-furiosa @djlbg @mayquita @andiirivera @captainsjedi @wellhellotragic @ultraluckycatnd @onceuponaprincessworld @aprilqueen84 @tehgreeneyes @hookedonapirate @thesschesthair @krustybunny @alexandralyman @artistic-writer @kymbersmith-90 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @resident-of-storybrooke @flslp87 @searchingwardrobes @pocket-anon @branlovestowrite @seriouslyhooked @sherlockianwhovian @doodlelolly0910 @courtorderedcake @ilovemesomekillianjones @shireness-says @donteattheappleshook @jennjenn615 @bethacaciakay @thislassishooked @shipsxahoy @shady-swan-jones @tiganasummertree @cat-sophia @hollyethecurious @thejacketandthehook @dassala @allofdafandoms-blog @kday426 @winterbaby89 @snidgetsafan @delirious-late-nights @onceuponaprincessworld @let-it-raines @profdanglaisstuff @revanmeetra87  @stophookingatmeswan @kmomof4  @optomisticgirl  @lenfaz  @gingerchangeling @darkcolinodonorgasm @daxx04 @jennjenn615  @lizacstuff @lassluna @xemmaloveskillianx @xhookswenchx    @peglegsjones @shireness-says @laschatzi @onceuponataarna

The Denver Arena welcomes Killian Jones with open arms. The city is having a slow month and is able to offer an earlier opening to the musician in lieu of the anticipated performance. They much preferred this to waiting until after the European tour to host the singer. An overcrowded arena applauds the music star’s much awaited show.

“Thank you. Thank you, Denver!” Killian takes a bow on stage. He waves at the crowd as he runs to the backstage. For the first time in years he takes no notice of any groupie in the crowd.

Scarlet greets him with a water bottle, “Killian, that has to be best I’ve seen you perform. I think the crowd forgave your last minute concert cancelation. These new songs are just crushing it, you know?”

Killian gives him a tight smile, “Just get me out of here, mate. It doesn’t matter.”

Will stares at him and obliges. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

Tiny and Will share looks on the way to the airport, they’ve grown tired of Killian’s brooding. After boarding the plane Will decides to engage Killian head on. “Killian, why are you doing this to yourself?”

“Doing what?” Killian asks, acting aloof.

“Mate, what happened while you were back home? You sounded happy and suddenly you asked me to organize the concert.” Will prompts him to continue.

“She almost died because of me. I just...” Killian closes his eyes as he remembers.

“Who almost died?”

“Alice Hope, my daughter.” Killian cannot contain the smile on his face at the mention of his daughter’s name. He continues his tale, “We were all having dinner at Emma’s. A big get together. Then Alice started choking, and instead of helping her I bloody froze.”

Will’s demeanor changes from business to friendly, “Killian, you froze because you love your daughter.”

Killian rebuffs stubbornly, “She could have died, Will. I could have lost her and I did nothing.”

“Killian, she didn’t die. She’s alive, back home, and most likely wondering where her father is. We all mess up, but it’s what you do after you mess up that counts. You have to show up, be there for them. This whole time I’ve managed you I’ve never thought of you as a bloody arse, not until this moment. Kids don’t come with manuals. Trust me. I love my Anastacia but if she tells me she’s with child anytime soon I’m going to freak out.” Will gives a little laugh.

Killian nods agreeing with his manager.

“Killian, don’t get me wrong, I get it. I do. I know there are better men than you out there, but Emma doesn’t love them. She loves you and you love her, too.”

Killian ponders the advice for a second.

“Sorry, I’m late boss,” his publicist says as she sits down.

Killian smiles, “MM I need the pilot to change the flight plans.”

Mary Margaret looks at Will for backup.

“If that’s not an option then I need to get off this plane.” Killian raises a single brow.

Mary Margaret shakes her head, “No, no, no. We are supposed to leave right now.”

Killian crosses his arms stubbornly. “Since you don’t want to have him change course, I’m getting off this plane.” Killian unclips his seatbelt and stands up.

“Killian, you are to perform in London in 14 hours. So no, you’re not getting off this plane, and we are definitely not changing course.” The petite publicist rises from her seat as well. “For the love of God, do not get off this plane.”

“Oh, I'm getting off this plane,” Killian affirms as he glances at Will.

Will nods, “Mary Margaret, let him go. We can make this work. He needs to do this.”

Mary Margaret is confused at first, but she and Will had worked closely during Killian’s absence. They’d formed a friendly bond. She moves out of the way and hopes Will can explain what just happened.

Killian gets off the plane and runs to the terminal. He goes to the closest airline and purchases a ticket to Maine.

As he waits for the plane to board he takes out his old taped up flip phone and listens to the voicemail.

“March 5th, one saved message.

Hi, Killian... it's me, Emma. I've lost count of all the times I've called. I still cannot figure out why you left me on our wedding day, and I fear I will never find out why. We need to talk. I really need for you to call me back. If you don't, I promised myself that I'll never call you again. I'll have to find a way to move on with my life. But I want you to know if I don't ever hear back from you, I will always love you, Killian. You will always be the one for me. And you'll have my heart forever.”

Killian Jones finally does what he should have done eight years ago. The line rings… “Hi, this is Emma. Leave me a message after the beep.”

Hello, Emma. It's me. I know it's taken me eight years to return this message and it’s about bloody time. I always wanted to, but I knew I would need to have an answer for you. I had no answer until now. See, my mum was the love of my life until I met you. I know we were so young, but the thought of losing you someday, the way that I lost her, my heart couldn't take it, so I ran. But I can never move on, Emma. And that message you left me, I did listen to it. I’ve listened to it every day for the last eight years. And then when I met Alice Hope, my heart just burst open. I thought I wasn't good enough for you two. If you choose to give me one more chance, I'll spend the rest of my life trying to be a better man. I'm never leaving Storybrooke again without you and Alice Hope by my side. You're the one. You've always been the one.”

The plane lands at Bangor International Airport and Killian quickly finds a car rental place. Normally he would have wanted a flashy car to show off to women, but today he chooses an SUV. He makes a point to ask the clerk about the crash statistics. The clerk pales until Killian smiles, “I’m not planning to crash mate, but I do intend to drive some precious cargo around.” With that he leaves the airport for the seemingly eternal drive to Storybrooke. He hasn’t heard back from Emma. He truly shouldn’t be surprised after his unannounced departure, again. She is surely going to kill him

He parks the SUV in front of Emma’s, scanning the house, it’s so quiet and dark, perhaps no one is home. He decides to get out of the vehicle and find out for sure. His hands are sweaty as he knocks on the door. He rocks back and forth as he waits for someone to open the door, which nobody ever does. He waits for an hour and figures he should go home. As he is leaving, a thought comes to him, he takes out his old phone and leaves it for Emma on her front porch. With one last look he heads home.

Liam smiles as soon as he sees his brother walk inside the house. “Brother, you’re back.”

Killian takes a deep breath. “Aye, I should have listened to you. I’m sorry, but this time it’s different. All those years I was away I knew something was missing. Now I know, home is the place when you leave, you just miss it. Being away from Emma and Alice Hope the last few days, I've never missed them more. I’m home and I’m done running.”

Liam smiles big at his brother as he walks up to him and hugs him. He whispers, “I’m glad to have you back little brother.” He claps Killian’s back fondly. “She’s out with the girls, and the little one is spending the night with Granny. I bet she was spoiled rotten by the old lady.”

“How bad is it? Bloody hell, I mean how angry is she?” Killian runs his hand through his dark hair.  

“Brother, she is mostly disappointed, and Alice Hope, she has been brooding since you left. In true Jones fashion.” Liam smiles, “The girls wanted to cancel tonight but Emma insisted that celebrating a happy occasion was what they all needed.”

“Happy occasion?” Killian asks curiously.

“Ah, yes. You don’t know. Ruby Lucas is getting married,” Liam says smiling.

“Who managed that? Ruby always claimed she would never marry.” Killian smiles at his friend’s antics.

“That was before she fell in love with our good Sheriff.” Liam waits for the information to sink in his brother’s mind.

“Sheriff, wait.. She’s marrying Humbert? I thought Emma and him were...” Killian stutters.

“I’m afraid not brother. I won’t lie, a few years after you left Emma and Graham tried, but your memory was always in the shadows.”

Killian’s jaw clenches at the confirmation, but he has no right, he knows that. He had enjoyed other women’s company while he was gone, so he can’t reproach Emma for trying to find love again.

Liam continues, “Don’t worry brother, everything will work out. I need to pick up Ali from Granny’s in the morning. I would invite you, but you need to talk to Emma first.”

Killian nods, “I know, I called her and I’m hoping to hear from her early.”

After a sleepless night, early in the morning as he is finally falling asleep, he is woken up by something hitting his window. He rises, and again he hears the clinking at the window. He opens the window to find Emma outside. She gestures for him to come outside.

This is it, the moment that he will find out if he has a family or if she tells him to bugger off.

As soon as he opens the door he is assaulted by her question, "You've really been carrying this old, prehistoric, beat-up, duct-taped, really ugly cell phone for the past eight years because of me?" She locks eyes with him as she waits for his answer.

He simply nods, "Aye."

She raises the phone to look at it once more. "And you listened to that message every single day since I left it there?"

Again he nods, "Aye."

"And you'll never leave Storybrooke without Alice Hope or me?"

"Never, love."

She smiles big, "Then all I have left to say is, welcome home Killian Jones." She rushes to him and pulls him by his shirt's collar into a passionate kiss. Their lips stay locked for what appears to be an eternity.

They separate and breathe each other in, her smile blinding him as she presses her forehead to his. They are so lost in their happy moment they don’t hear the new arrivals.

Alice Hope's grip on her uncle's hand tightens at the sight before her.

"Dad?" Alice Hope's little voice breaks through their happy bubble.

Liam lightly squeezes her hand, encouraging her, he leans, "It's okay little one, go on." He lightly nudges her.

Alice Hope slowly walks towards her parents. Her unsure steps don't go unnoticed by Killian. He did that to her. He slowly unlocks himself from Emma's hold.

Emma catches on and she gently squeezes his forearm. Killian meets Alice Hope halfway and he kneels before her. "Little love, I'm sorry for hurting you but I can assure you, I will never leave this town again unless it's in the company of my two loves."

Alice Hope quirks an eyebrow. "I'm sorry I scared you away."

Killian smiles, "Little love, you've got nothing to apologize for. I'm the one that's sorry, I let old fears drive me away. First from your mother and now from you, but my biggest fear is not having you in my life." He stands up and she automatically throws her arms around his waist. Emma and Liam look on smiling.

Emma approaches, and says, "I hope you have room for one more." Liam chuckles as he reaches them. "Better make that two more." The group holds on tight to each other.

They break the engulfing embrace only to head inside.

Liam pulls Emma aside for a second. "I hope I didn't overstep by bringing Ali here."

Emma smiles brightly at Killian and Alice Hope talking animatedly as they entered the house, then turns to Liam. "No, you did the right thing."

"I'm assuming things went well between the two of you."

"Yeah, everything is okay."

-----

Liam and Emma are making a quick lunch of  spaghetti and a salad, while Alice Hope and Killian catch up.

Alice Hope lays her head on Killian's shoulder while sitting on the couch talking. "Dad, if you're gonna stay here, how are you gonna sing?" Alice Hope asks.

"Ah, little love," he scratches behind his elvish ear, "about that, your mum and I need to discuss some things. I was about to start the international part of my tour." He nudges her before adding, "those songs you and I worked on together were a big hit."

She sighs, "So you are going to leave again."

"Alice Hope, I meant what I said before. I’m not leaving Storybrooke unless you and your mother are by my side. And even though I have a contract to uphold, se will figure things out. I'll call my manager. Don't worry."

Liam and Emma call out from the kitchen when lunch is ready, and just as Alice Hope and Killian arrive, Liam excuses himself for a second. He goes to his room and quickly returns. Killian raises a brow in confusion, and Emma and Alice Hope share a look. Liam simply smiles as he takes his seat.

After enjoying a peaceful lunch, Alice Hope and Emma go sit down in the living room at the insistence of Killian and Liam, the perfect hosts.

While they clean the kitchen Killian's curiosity wins out. "Brother, where did you go earlier?"

Liam smiles and looks at him only to simply wink in response. "I'm happy things are finally as they should have been long ago."

Killian couldn't stop the smile. "Aye, I just need to make arrangements with my manager."

Liam scratches behind his ear, apparently it’s a family trait, then shows Killian their mother’s ring.  “I believe all you need to do is ask."  "She gave it back after-"

Killian purses his lips, "I left? I don't know if using that ring would be a good idea."

"Killy, she knows what that ring means to us... to you. You and I both know that the ring belongs on her finger."

"You're the oldest, what about Elsa?" Killian asks.

Liam blushes red, "Killian. Elsa and I aren’t…”

Killian smirks, “Aren’t what? I don’t know who you think you’re fooling.” Killian rolls his eyes. “I’ll accept the ring on one condition.”

Killian waits for his brother to answer and finally Liam whispers, “What’s that?”

Killian’s smile broadens, “That you admit that you two are hopelessly in love.”

Liam closes his eyes and takes a breath, “Fine! You win brother. Elsa and I have been secretly dating for years.”

“Liam, why the secrecy?” Killian asks confused.

“Elsa and I agreed to take things slow. Her traveling back and forth has helped with that. I think part of me felt guilty, how could I find happiness when my brother was still lost?” Liam’s sad eyes meet his brother’s.

“Liam, I’m so sorry, but there’s no more need to hold back.”

“So don’t hold back on my account either, ask her.” Liam hands him the ring.

Killian studies the ring as he twirls it. “Do you really think she will say yes?”

“I’m not going to say she was pining for you all this time b” Liam is interrupted.

“Who’s pining?” Emma asks as she walks into the kitchen.

Killian pockets the ring once Emma enters the kitchen.

The soft melody traveling from the living room fills the kitchen.

Emma quirks an eyebrow, “Is this about Elsa? Liam are you finally popping the question?” Emma shrieks in excitement and starts jumping up and down.

Liam’s face reddens. “Oh no, this is about someone else.”

“Sure Liam.” Emma turns her attention to Killian. “Alice is playing that song you guys worked on together. She’s good, just like her papa.” She shares a smile with Killian.

“Emma, we need to talk,” Killian says before he can chicken out.

“Yeah?” Emma looks between Liam and Killian. Liam shrugs and walks to the living room.

“Emma, I meant what I said in the message,” Killian says, “but I have a contract I have to fulfill.”

Emma’s eyes dim, “Oh, right.” She bites her bottom lip.

“I just have to call my manager and publicist to work something out. I’m not leaving my family behind ever again,” Killian assures Emma in a soothing voice.

“Okay, so after you talk to them and figure something out, we can decide what to do next.” Emma gives him a smile.

“Love?” He reaches out to her.

Emma lifts her hand to meet his and they twine their fingers together.

He reaches for the ring in his pocket and takes it out.

Emma notices the familiar heirloom.

Killian follows her gaze and he studies the relic. “Emma, I don’t know if this is too soon or too late. As you know the ring was my mums and... I’m sorry, maybe this is a bad idea…” Bloody git, Killian mutters to himself.

“Killian, I...” she sighs.

They are too busy with their talk to notice they have an audience.

“Mom, dad, what’s going on?” Alice Hope asks.

“Ali love, lets give your parents some time alone to talk.” Liam smiles apologetically to the duo.

Alice Hope gasps when she sees the ring in Killian’s hand. “Are you guys getting married?” Her happy smile blinds the room as she starts to jump up and down.

Emma and Killian look at each other with a little panic in their eyes.

Liam clears his throat. “No one is trying to rush you two, but why wait?”

Emma and Killian share a look.

Liam speaks again, “You’re childhood sweethearts that found their way back together. You’re parents to an adorable little girl. You have a ring. You have someone that will marry you in an instant.” Liam points to himself. “All you need is a license.”

Liam calls out for Alice Hope, “Come on little one, play more songs for me.”

Alice Hope looks at her parents and follows her uncle.

Killian nervously looks at Emma. “Love, we don’t have to rush. My brother was talking out of his arse.”

Emma smiles, “Killian, he’s right. We’ve known each other all of our lives. We have a daughter…”

Killian blurts out, “If this is about the ring I can buy you a new one. One that won’t be tarnished by my actions.”

Emma tilts her head as she studies his face. “This ring was your mom’s.” She grabs the ring and smiles.

Killian lovingly quirks an eyebrow and smiles as he reaches for the ring, “This ring belongs on your finger, it was always meant to be you. My love, my happiness. My true love.” He clears his throat and lowers himself to one knee, “Emma Nolan, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

Emma playfully rolls her eyes, “Don't think I'm taking my eyes off you for a second."

Killian laughs, “I would despair if you did."

They laugh together as he puts the ring on her finger, “That was a yes, right?” Killian panicks for a second.

Holding hands, they head towards the living room where Alice Hope and Liam are sitting on the couch. The youngest Jones strums the guitar, but stops as she notices them holding hands.

Liam gets up, “So, are we planning a wedding?”

Emma and Killian both answer, “Yes!”

Liam looks between them, “What kind of wedding are we talking about?”

Emma answers, “Something small, just family and friends.”

Killian volunteers, “I could have my manager and publicist help.”

Emma looks at Killian, “They can help make arrangements for your tour, but I think Granny’s diner would be perfect.”

Liam smiles, “You two need to go get that marriage license and the rest will fall into place.”

Truer words had never been spoken. Liam should have been smug about how easy everything fell into place. They called Elsa, Ruby, Anna, and Marian to help Emma.

Killian and Liam kept an eye on Alice Hope, and Robin finally spent some quality time with his old friend. Liam enjoys teasing them about planning a wedding for their kids in the future. Robin and Killian both grunt.

Ruby quickly convinces Granny about letting the wedding and reception take place at the diner. “Granny, it’s not like the groom can’t afford to give Emma a wedding fit for a princess. They just want it to be us, family.” The older lady quickly agrees.

The other women find the clothes and make floral arrangements at Emma’s shop. Pieces falling into place.

Emma decides on Middlemist.

The diner quickly transforms into a fitting place for a wedding.

This time Liam and Robin keep Killian company. An irritated Killian says, “I’m not going anywhere. I’m just nervous Scarlet hasn’t arrived yet.”

His brother asks, “Why are you so nervous about that?”

“He has our traveling itinerary and documents. I had to invite Will and his wife. He convinced me I was being an arse. MM my publicist made sure no one got wind of the wedding, so I invited her as well. It’s about time both parts of my life are introduced.” Killian keeps looking out the window for  Will and MM.

In the corner sat a sulking David. He still couldn’t believe his sister had fallen for Jones’ shit again. Here they are once more at a wedding.

David decides to go outside for a quick smoke. He stands near the patio exhaling the smoke and he can’t help notice a petite brunette getting out of a car with a couple he hasn’t seen before. A large man guides her and the others to the diner. Without realizing it, he is following her inside. They exchange pleasantries and introductions.

The wedding is finally about to start, and the group finally goes outside, everybody taking their place. Killian stands tall in a black suit.

The wedding march song begins and Emma emerges from the Inn walking hand in hand with Alice Hope.

Killian can’t contain his blinding grin, she is beautiful. Her simple off white dress flows as she walks towards him.   

Once they reach him, Emma stands next to him and their daughter stands on the opposite side of Emma.

Liam starts the ceremony, and the pair exchange vows and are finally pronounced husband and wife.

----------

Emma and Alice Hope are backstage alongside Liam and Elsa who are holding hands. While they’re all enthralled by the performance onstage, David is enthralled by his conversation with MM.

“Hello, London! I’m so grateful to be finally here.” The crowd cheers. “Thank you for allowing me to reschedule, because of your generosity, I’m here offering a special treat, today I’m introducing you to my family.” He looks at Emma and Alice and waves them on.

Emma and Alice Hope wave at the crowd.

Killian smiles at his girls. “Alice, come here little love. This song is very special to me because my daughter helped me write it, and she will be performing it with me tonight.” Emma waves goodbye to the crowd and goes backstage to watch the two great loves of her life.

At the center of the stage two chairs are side by side. Killian sits in one and Alice Hope in the other, each with their guitar in hand. They start to play and their voices sync perfectly as they sing for the crowd.

Seen it all

Endless nights and storm clouds brewing

A tired heart

18 wheels, asphalt moving.

I felt the hurt along the way

Seen the tears roll down her face

Nothing could ever take her place

Out there on the road, so alone

Home, finally home

Sometimes it's hard to stop a rolling stone

But wherever it may roll

It always seems to find its way back home

Early sun rising

In and out of hotel rooms

Highways winding

another town to push on through

Painted memories in my mind

They got me through hard days and the longer nights

But now I'm turning back the tide

I didn't realize how far I'd gone

Home, finally home

Sometimes it's hard to be a rolling stone

But wherever I may roll

I always seem to find my way back home

Endless nights

That emptiness lasted forever

When all I wanted was for all of us to be together

Home, finally home

Sometimes it's hard to stop a rolling stone

But wherever it may roll

It always seems to find its way back home

It always seems to find its way back home

I always seem to find my way back... home