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cirilla-fiona-riannon · 1 year

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Absolute Submission to the Queen

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors.

Blank, and ageless blogs will be blocked.

I heard the news while I was in the middle of negotiations.

Silvio: "Ha?"

Carlo: "Eek! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!"

Carlo apologized with teary eyes.

I had to wonder if my current expression might’ve looked terrible.

Silvio: "Tch, we're done for today. Carlo, see the guests off."

Carlo: "I don't think I can do this. All the guests here are VIPs一Ah, wait!"

(I hope everything will be fine.)

I heard a shout from behind me, but I ignored it and hurriedly left the venue.

I kicked the door open, and the woman inside widened her eyes.

Emma: "Huh? Prince Silvio? Weren't you in a business meeting right now?"

Silvio: "Don't you have something to say to me?"

Emma: "No, nothing..."

Emma: "Ah, wait. Could it be that you're starting to miss me?"

(She's trying to change the subject.)

She tried to approach me nonchalantly, but her steps felt somewhat awkward.

Unable to watch it any longer, I picked her up, and she began to flail her legs in panic一a tightly wrapped bandage peeked from under the hem of her dress.

(So it was true that she was taken to the infirmary.)

(And yet, she...)

I suppressed my emotions and gently placed her on the bed.

Silvio: "You got caught."

Emma: "I figured that might happen."

Emma: "But it's not that big of a deal, you know? I just tripped and fell because of this dress."

Silvio: "You sprained your ankle. That's a big deal, you idiot."

Silvio: "How were you planning to go on living and hide it from me?"

Emma: "Of course, with determination!"

Silvio: "Ha?"

Out of frustration, I ruffled her hair.

(Why don't you even try to talk to me?)

(You went to the doctor, but you won't rely on me at all.)

(I'm supposed to be your man, aren't I?)

Even if it was out of consideration to not worry me, this time I couldn't stand it.

(Am I really that unreliable in your eyes?)

I knelt before her and gently touched her aching legs.

Silvio: "Listen, you absolutely cannot move for the next few days."

Silvio: "Instead, I'll do everything. I'll be your servant."

Emma was originally a sassy woman who wasn't good at relying on others.

She was always thinking of others and rarely considered herself.

While this trait might be considered a virtue worthy of being called "Belle," it could also be quite vexing.

I wanted to take this opportunity to make her realize that it's okay to use others more freely and casually, just as a queen would if she desired.

Rio: "Damn it, I'm so jealous!"

Silvio: "Sorry about that."

After a while of serving her, rumors started to spread in Benitoite about the extent to which the "dog" had taken to serving her.

Emma: "Rio, what did you just say?"

Rio: "Are you making me say those cruel words to him again?"

Emma: "No, that's not it. Let me repeat."

Emma: "Did you seriously just say that Prince Silvio is now my obedient dog?"

Rio: "That's right. The merchants who were present at the last meeting are spreading the rumor that this jangling bastard is your dog."

Rio: "Not just the merchants. Even the servants in the castle are all saying the same thing."

Rio: "But it's true, right? Lately, this guy has been clinging to you constantly, never leaving your side."

Rio: "He's been doing everything for you like a dog."

Rio: "I'm so jealous. I want to become your dog, too!"

(Dog, huh?)

Dogs are creatures that wag their tails and show loyalty to their owners. While some might consider it a derogatory term, strangely, I didn't find it insulting.

In fact, it was the opposite.

For the past few days, I've been by Emma's side, appearing at various social events.

I was always hanging out with her, whether it was for work stuff or private affairs.

And perhaps because of these circumstances, opportunities for her to make "requests" had gradually increased.

I'd prefer it if she could follow my every whim, much like a queen, but by obeying her like a loyal pup, I might eventually make her lose her reservations.

(Not bad.)

(She's too kind, so she probably needs a dog. In that case, I'll become one.)

However, even the time when I could be a dog would eventually come to an end.

Emma: "Put me down!"

Silvio: "I ain't putting you down."

Emma: "My leg has already healed a long time ago!"

Emma: "Even the doctor said I could walk."

Silvio: "I don't care."

Another week had passed since then, and her leg had healed to the point where it could be considered fully recovered.

(But I still can't accept it.)

(Not until you can use me without any hesitation.)

Ever since she heard the 'dog' rumors, she began displaying restraint once more.

She constantly issued orders that seemed to reject my attempts to serve her, even though I wanted to devote myself to her.

Emma: "Prince Silvio."

Even when she hugged me to make me do what she asked, I remained calm.

Silvio: "That won't work."

(I won't stop until you become more selfish.)

Emma: "………."

That night, she finally resorted to a more assertive approach.

(Is she planning not to speak until I stop being her "dog?")

Silvio: "Geez, you're such a handful."

She refused the meal I offered, so I reluctantly took a nearby drink, kissed her, and forcibly opened her lips with my thumb, allowing the drink to flow down her throat.

(Fruit juice, huh? Damn it, it's sweet.)

Emma: "What do you think you're doing!?"

Her face turned as red as a rose.

Silvio: "I'm trying to feed you."

Emma: "I'll eat by myself!"

Silvio: "Denied."

She naturally brushed me aside and pursed her lips as if she wanted to say something.

Emma: "You're being stubborn."

Silvio: "Ha? I'm not being stubborn."

Emma: "You're being stubborn. You're not even listening to a word I'm saying."

Silvio: ".........."

(That's because you reject everything I do.)

(All I want is to serve you.)

Emma: "What's really wrong with you?"

Silvio: "Nothing."

Silvio: "I just don't understand why you're so against it."

Silvio: "Do you dislike being taken care of?"

Emma: "I do. Because you're not just some random guy; you're my fiancé. You're not a dog."

Emma: "Or maybe you really want to become a dog?"

Silvio: “Maybe that’s not a bad idea.”

Emma: “Prince Silvio, are you sure you’re not sick?”

Silvio: “I’m not.”

Of course, I have no intention of being owned by anyone other than Emma.

I wanted her to rely on me and no one else.

(Dogs choose their owner. You just don't realize it.)

Silvio: “If I were to be a dog, you would be…”

Silvio: “No, forget it.”

I swallowed my words as shame overpowered me.

Although there were things I truly felt, I wasn't pure enough to express them honestly.

Emma: "Is something bothering you?"

Silvio: "Don't worry about it."

I took a seat in the chair opposite her and leaned back.

Emma: “Tell me.”

However, it was precisely in moments like this that she bit back.

She stood up from her chair and hugged me from behind, her sweet scent tickling my nose.

(This girl...)

Emma: “If you tell me, I’ll play along.”

Silvio: “You’re getting carried away.”

Silvio: “...........”

(But there are things that won't be understood if I don't say them.)

(I'd be more uncomfortable if she didn't ask for my help again by keeping quiet.)

Swallowing the rising embarrassment, I spoke up.

Silvio: “When you hurt your leg, you tried to hide it from me, but I happened to notice it by chance.”

Silvio: “I don't want you to rely on others, so I just thought I’d train you so that you could only rely on me.”

Silvio: “But if you’re not gonna rely on me, I’d rather become a dog.”

Silvio: "Lean only on me."

(Becoming your dog is actually my wish, too.)

(Though if I’d heard this a decade ago, I might've vomited.)

I took her hand and pressed my lips against her delicate skin, leaving marks to assert my existence.

After a brief silence, she let out an exasperated sigh.

Emma: "I understand."

Emma: "If that's the case, I want you to remove my shoes."

(----!)

Silvio: "Didn't you just tell me you didn't want to be taken care of?"

Emma: "That's because I didn't understand your intentions."

Emma: "This is what you wanted, right?"

Silvio: "Well, yeah."

(Damn it, I should've just told her from the start, even though it's embarrassing.)

Flustered, I stood up, carrying Emma, and sat her in a nearby chair. Then, I knelt in front of her and lifted her leg.

Today, she was wearing the dress I bought her a while ago, along with ribbon-adorned shoes.

(I've been waiting for this kind of selfishness from someone who doesn't hold back when dealing with me.)

I took one end of the ribbon with my mouth and started untying it.

It was a scene that I could never have imagined years ago.

(To begin with, I couldn't even imagine kneeling before someone.)

(I never really had a chance to consider whether I'd like the idea of people counting on me or pampering me.)

The people around me always had their eyes on my "money."

While I had many opportunities to be relied upon, it was always a transactional relationship.

(But what she sees is not money, but me.)

(That's why I've come to crave being relied upon so much.)

(Not for money, but for myself.)

I slid my fingers along her toes and removed her shoes. At that moment, she started petting my head.

Silvio: "Cut it out."

(It's only going to get more embarrassing.)

Emma: "I suddenly felt like petting you. Am I not allowed?"

Silvio: "You're grinning."

Emma: "If you don't like it, you can shake me off."

(There's no way I'd dislike this, stupid.)

Silvio: "Tch, why am I even doing this?"

Emma: "It's my way of saying thank you."

Emma: "Besides, you mentioned letting me experience what it's like to be a queen."

(You remembered those words, huh?)

(Just so you know, you're the only one I'll allow to be a queen.)

Well, she's not exactly unembarrassed either, with her face all flushed.

Despite her usual arrogant attitude, I couldn't help but burst out laughing at her inability to conceal her expression.

Silvio: "Ah, damn it. Feel free to give me any orders, Your Majesty."

Emma: "Then, after removing my shoes, I'd like you to put me to bed."

Silvio: "So, that means you want me to take you to the bath, help you change clothes, and then carry you to bed?"

Emma: "Not all of that…"

(You didn't have to say it. Let me take care of you even more.)

I lifted her up with one arm and unbuttoned her dress mercilessly. As I exposed her in her underwear, her body began to tremble.

Emma: "I'll do it...Nnn…"

(There's no point in waiting now.)

I sealed her words with a kiss and stripped off her underwear.

Looking down at her, completely naked, her face and skin turned red.

(You're too cute, idiot.)

I playfully ran my fingers across her skin, and she tightly closed her eyes.

That reaction alone made my heart race.

Silvio: "You gave the order, right? I'll serve you wholeheartedly throughout the night."

(So lean on me more. If it's you, I'll let myself be tamed.)

Part 1╎Part 2╎Premium End╎Epilogue

#ikemen prince #silvio ricci #ikepri silvio #ikepri #ikepri jp #ikepri translations #cybird

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musicalcastingideas · 5 months

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Dropout Does The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals

So my theory about overlap of Dropout and Team Starkid seems to be accurate, and people seemed to like my Dropout does Nerdy Prudes Must Die post, so I'm back for another. Same method and criteria as my previous post, you can go see that if you want to know what they are. Also, I have previously done a similar list with Internet Personalities that included a handful of Dropout people, but I'm gonna try to make this one different.

Also spoilers for potentially anything in the Hatchetfield verse

Paul: Ross Bryant

Ross is a great straight man (in the comedy sense, I don't know his sexuality) while being very funny in his own right, and I think, while Paul has a lot of his own funny moments, it's very important that his character is also the more normal guy reacting to the madness around him. Also, he would slay the Jekyll and Hyde homage that is Let it Out.

Emma : Siobhan Thompson

I think one of the essential parts of Emma's character is an underlying exhaustion with the world, and that is very Adaine Abernant and Ruby Rocks, so I think Siobhan would embody that very well.

Charlotte: Vic Michaelis

I don't think I've ever heard them do a transatlantic accent before, but I just have this gut feeling they'd be so good at it.

Ted: Ify Nwadiwe

While I do genuinely think Ify would be great in the part, if I'm being fully honest, this casting is because I (despite my better judgment) find Ted Spankoffski hot, so casting arguably the hottest man in Dropout in this part makes me seem less damaged for being attracted to the self-proclaimed sleazeball. Also him and Vic seem like they would be great playing off each other.

Bill: Brian "Murph" Murphy

He just has "refuses to drink during the apocalypse so he can be the DD" energy.

Mr Davidson: Brian David Gilbert

Since I'm splitting up all the parts, this basically turns Mr Davidson into a Princess Track where the actor just shows up, sings about desire and being choked while he jerks off, but laments how he can never achieve his dreams, and then pretty much leaves, and I don't know why, but that seems right up BDG's alley.

Melissa: Lisa Gilroy

Lisa Gilroy seems nice, but also kinda scares me, and those are the correct vibes for Melissa (#heymelissacore)

Sam: Jacob Wysoki

My only concern about this casting is that he'd go SO HARD in You Tied Up My Heart that he would keep breaking the handcuffs and/or chair, but that's fine, it would be worth it.

Nora: Katie Marovitch

The "Decaf?" parts of Cup of Roasted Coffee already sounds a bit like her TBH.

Zoey: Rehka Shankar

I feel like Zoey is such an underrated, funny side character in the show (I know she's a very small part, but like every line she has is a banger) and I feel like Rehka is a very underrated performer, so this is a good match.

Greenpeace Girl: Persephone Valentine

Making up the Save the Sea Turtles campaign is such a Sam Nightengale move, and also she would eat up Lah Dee Dah Dah Day.

Alice: Surena Marie

She's got a bit of a baby face (I thought she was like 25) and I think she would handle the change from Alice to Hivemind Alice really well.

Deb: Emily Axford

I'm definitely not just casting this because I want Emily to be my protective and caring girlfriend...

Professor Hidgens: Josh Ruben

I don't have an explanation for this one, this is vibes alone.

General MacNamara: Brennan Lee Mulligan

"Wear a Watch" and a song highlighting how the hivemind is essentially fascist and using the military to destroy any resistance to their regime is so Brennan core.

Homeless Man: Ally Beardlsey

I just feel like this is the part they'd want.

Dan Reynolds: Lou Wilson

Icons play Icons.

Donna: Aabria Iyengar

Icons play Icons

Hard Cuts:

Jacob Wysoki as Ted

Mike Trapp as Paul

Emily Axford as Emma

Jess Ross as Charlotte

Lily Du as Zoey

Grant O'Brien as Professor Hidgens

Grant O'Brien as Ted

Ally Beardlsey as Ted

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spartanguard · 5 months

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when Emma falls in love [from the vault]

Summary: When Emma falls in love, I know that boy will never be the same | When she came to Storybrooke, finding love was the farthest thing from Emma's mind. Until she started to get to know Ian, the bartender down at the Rabbit Hole. A crush is the last thing she needs—not when she's in the middle of a murder investigation and her son keeps talking about curses. Or maybe it's exactly what both of them need. [Inspired by "When Emma Falls In Love" by Taylor Swift] A/N: This is the next in my series of fics inspired by Taylor Swift's vault tracks (mostly from Speak Now (Taylor's Version), but there will be more!). Wanted to post this before we all died from TTPD tomorrow ;) I think this is also my favorite of the ones I've written so far; hope you like it, too! And, as always, thank you to @optomisticgirl for being the best beta ever. rated T | 6.2k words | AO3

When the door swung open, Emma was half expecting it to be someone from downstairs yelling at her to stop her pacing; too many years living in crappy apartments had done that to her. But it was just Mary Margaret, coming home from work.

That said— “Uh, you okay? If you pace any harder, you’re gonna wear a hole in the floor,” her roommate remarked.

“Ugh, sorry,” Emma answered, taking a seat at one of the barstools at the counter. “It was that or attacking the toaster again.”

“You didn’t get fired again, did you?” Mary Margaret asked as she set a bag of groceries on the counter. “‘Cause last I checked, you were your own boss.”

Emma scoffed. “No; just…other stuff.” She swallowed. “Boy stuff?” (She wasn’t sure why she said it like it was a question, other than the fact that she’d never been one to talk about relationships or anything—never had anyone she could talk to about that, so she wasn’t sure if this was the right way to start.)

“Well, that’s convenient,” Mary Margaret said, and reached into the paper sack. “I bought wine,” she finished, pulling out a cheap screw-top bottle of rosé.

“Might need more than that.”

“Good thing I got two,” she answered, producing another.

They curled up at opposite ends of the couch, not even bothering with wine glasses. After a few (hefty) sips, Mary Margaret looked at her pointedly and Emma was suddenly very aware of why her students respected her so much. “Okay. Spill.”

Emma sighed, but obliged. “Okay, you know the bartender down at the Rabbit Hole?”

“Not well, but I know who he is. Ian, right?”

“Yeah, Ian Johnson. He, uh…I mean, I…” She hummed. “I think I like him.”

“Oh my god, you sound like one of my fifth graders,” Mary Margaret replied. “You’re attracted to him? Or maybe a little more?”

Emma took another pull from her bottle. “Maybe a lot more.”

“I sense a ‘but’ coming.”

(His ass was fantastic, but that was beside the point.) “But…you know how I am. My history. It hasn’t really been that long since Graham…” She still had a hard time saying died.

“I know,” Mary Margaret said softly. “No one says you have to rush into anything. But if you’re feeling something, it doesn’t hurt to pursue it. Especially if he seems to reciprocate.”

Well, that was her other conundrum, wasn’t it: did he? Much like her, he wasn’t really prone to showing emotion—not noticeably, at least; he wore an air of apathy as well as he did his dark-wash jeans. In fact, she didn’t give him much thought after she first met him—when she’d been called to the bar to drag Leroy to the drunk tank on one of her first overnight shifts as a deputy.

She’d definitely seen him, though; Ian was certainly easy on the eyes—perfectly disheveled hair above light blue eyes, just the right amount of gingery stubble, and a hint of chest hair visible through the open vee of his appropriately tight henley—but her thoughts towards him didn’t go deeper than the surface. She also hadn’t missed the quick once-over he gave her, though she couldn’t tell if it was in appreciation or merely assessment.

It wasn’t until her following visit (Leroy’s next trip to the station’s overnight accommodations) that he did more than hum at her, but there was very little effort in the casual pickup line he threw at her (and she did her damnedest to ignore the lilt of his foreign accent).

She knew his kind—or so she thought: the type of asshole who hid behind a pretty face and a quick come-on and that was all it took to get into a girl’s pants. Frankly, that was something she’d fallen for a few too many times, but not here—not in Storybrooke. Not when Regina was constantly looking for a reason to send her out of town (even if she won that sheriff election fair and square, Gold’s involvement notwithstanding) or limit her time with Henry.

It wasn’t until the first time she got a call at the bar after Graham died that she exchanged more than passing pleasantries with him. Ian wasn’t the first to express his condolences, but he was the first to say, “It’s just not fair.” That was exactly how she felt, too. And that’s when things started to shift between them.

(Apparently, he and Graham went way back—he didn’t specify how far, but it sounded like a while, the kind of vague forever that seemed prevalent in such a small town. Graham had helped him out of a few scrapes, and vice versa. “He was a good man,” Ian had concluded. “Seems those always go too soon.” It felt like there was more to go with that statement, but then “Only the Good Die Young” had come on the jukebox and it was a little too on the nose and she had to get out of there.)

But it really took a turn the night he intervened while she was breaking up a bar fight, getting in the way of a drunken punch meant for her and taking it in the cheek instead. (That was also the night she finally noticed his left arm ended not in a hand, but a prosthesis, as she made the assailant wait in the squad car while she put together an ice pack for Ian’s face; she also found out that night that he mixed a mean whiskey sour.)

So they were…she wasn’t sure if they could really say “friends” after that—not quite a team, either; allies, maybe? Whatever it was, it was definitely something she needed.

She started to run into him at Granny’s after that. The first time, she was getting her morning coffee before heading into the station; he was getting some tea before heading home after closing the bar. Then they’d see each other at lunch hour; if the diner was full, they shared a booth. But then that became something of a habit, too, on the days he didn’t close and she didn’t work overnight (though they eventually started another of sharing a drink at the end of their late-night shifts).

Admittedly, it was a little awkward at first; Emma had never been great at the whole small-talk thing (and even worse at the making-friends thing)—but on the bright side, so was he. She found out little things, like when a favorite song would come on (“Behind Blue Eyes” was up there, unsurprisingly/heartbreakingly), or when she’d ask for a liquor recommendation (rum—always rum). She let slip at one point how much she enjoyed Motown, and he quickly picked up on her hot chocolate order.

More solid information came to light later; as she’d guessed, he was a loner, too—no family left, and had drifted around England and the US until he ended up in Storybrooke, somehow. He made an appreciative comment about her being a fellow jailbird over a beat-up copy of that awful article in the Mirror, but his face fell when she mentioned how old she’d been—a rare emotional moment for him. (But not as intense as when she’d commented on the tattoo on his forearm late one night, and the unmistakable look of loss took over; all they could do at that point was make a toast to living through heartbreak.)

It was…she didn’t want to say easy, but it was nice—there were no expectations, no responsibilities. Just the pleasure of each other’s company, and a sense of kindred comraderie.

She was also aware, but ignoring the fact, that the less she knew, the better. There was less chance that he was lying to her or holding something back; less chance for him to get disappointed in who she was. (Less chance to be hurt.)

“He does, right?” Mary Margaret’s question dragged her back to the present.

Which brought Emma to the downside of being attracted to someone whose walls abutted hers: it was hard to get a read on what was going on in his head, especially when he wasn’t outwardly expressive (more than when they first met, but it was still rare). All she could do was shrug at her roommate and take another pull of wine.

“Yeah, he’s always come off as kind of aloof,” Mary Margaret agreed. “Not altogether unfeeling—more like, not a lot?”

Emma was the last person to make any comments there. What was it she’d said to Graham? “Not feeling anything is an attractive option when what you're feeling sucks.” They both had reason enough for that.

“But it looks like you’ve gotten closer to him than anyone in a while,” her roommate went on, “and vice versa?”

“More or less,” Emma conceded. “Present company notwithstanding.”

“I’m honored. And you know what I say about hope,” she answered.

Emma did, but wasn’t sure she was ready to say she was that far in. She extended the end of her bottle to Mary Margaret, who clinked her own against it in solidarity.

By the end of the night, she had no further clarity on the situation and the beginnings of a hangover. Maybe she was overthinking it—or maybe it wasn’t even worth overthinking; it’s not like these things ever worked out in her favor anyway.

But…she did keep thinking about hope.

———.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.———

Her friends eventually dragged her out to the Rabbit Hole for a girls’ night. They’d cited the fact that she missed all the excitement on Valentine’s Day, with Ashley’s engagement, so she needed to make up for it.

Despite still being new to the whole having-female-friends thing (having any friends, really), she had fun. Ian poured the drinks strong and sent more than a few small, sideways grins her way as he watched her dance with the others. She was hoping her subsequent blush could be blamed on exertion or alcohol, except—

“Oh my god,” Ruby yelled at her as they returned to their booth for a refreshment. “Just go screw him already.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’ve been eye-fucking the bartender all night! Go do something about it!”

Well, now her cheeks surely matched her bright red dress—and, to make it worse (or better, Ruby would probably say), when she glanced over at Ian a moment later to see if he’d heard, he was smirking and raised an eyebrow as soon as she caught his eye.

(They hadn’t crossed that line yet but—it had been close. She’d been all too aware of the proximity of their lips when she was helping him shut down last week and they’d collided in the back hall—her hands on his firm chest, his coming to her waist, the dart of her eyes to his mouth—she’d basically sprinted out of there.)

There was definitely an itch to scratch, but she wasn’t about to go there with him. Because she knew, with him, it would be so much more than that. (And if he didn’t reciprocate…that would be even worse.)

“So I hear you’ve been hanging out with the bartender,” Regina asked her one day after she dropped Henry off at the mayor’s house.

Emma shrugged. “I guess,” she answered, downplaying whatever it was they had—if only because she had a feeling Regina would find a way to weaponize it.

(Also, he was good with Henry—like, really good, maybe even better than she was. For someone who didn’t appear to care much about…anything, he always seemed to brighten and engage so much more around her kid whenever they ran into him at Granny’s. He even indulged Henry’s theories about the “curse”, but her son hadn’t decided who Ian was in this supposed other life. Emma didn’t have any ideas, either, if only because that meant Ian was the one person safe from Henry’s childlike scrutiny.)

“Even with everything he’s done?”

That got her attention. “What has he done?”

“More like what hasn’t he done; you’re the sheriff—you could look up his rap sheet. He’s got some blood on those hands—well, hand. Has he even mentioned how that happened?”

“No,” Emma said stiffly. “He hasn’t.”

“I don’t suppose he’s mentioned anything about his ex either, then. Who was married.”

“Uh, no.”

“Well, maybe you should look into it—so you can be aware of just who you’re allowing around my son.”

The mayor pointedly closed the door at that, leaving Emma alone with her thoughts—never a good combination. She was mulling it over on the drive to the station—how much did she actually believe what Regina was saying?

But her curiosity was too piqued to let it rest. She felt like the biggest asshole, but after she got settled for the start of her shift, she ended up in the records room, particularly in front of the drawer labeled H–J.

As much as she didn’t want to—she had to know. She slid the drawer open and dug through the folders, until she found the one near the back labeled Johnson, Ian Brennan.

It was thick. His ‘jailbird’ comment from a while back returned to her; she thought he’d been joking at the time.

She didn’t look inside until she was in her office, with the door shut—not that she expected any visitors, least of all him (he was working anyways), but she still felt like she was doing something wrong, even if she had perfectly legal access to these files.

She took a deep breath and flipped it open.

Ian was glaring at her from the photo paper-clipped to the stack of forms—a bit younger, a bit angrier than the man she knew, with a fire in those blue eyes she’d never seen, even from behind a layer of guyliner and shaggy bangs.

Beneath it, typed out, it listed his name, birthdate (although the year was smudged beyond recognition), that he was born in England, and a charge for drunk driving.

The next sheet: illegal possession of a firearm.

The next several that followed included a handful of drug-related charges, mostly involving the transporting of them.

The last page said manslaughter.

She slammed the folder shut and threw it in the empty bottom drawer of her desk.

In vain, she tried to pretend she hadn’t seen it. Maybe someone planted it there? She wouldn’t put it past Regina, though as to why, she couldn’t guess. The comments about an affair, though—she’d done the whole dating-a-married-guy thing; it hadn’t ended well, but it still wasn’t something she was keen on.

For the next week or so, she managed to avoid him—took all her Granny’s orders to go; sent Ruby to deal with anything at the bar; and one time, ran down an alley when she saw him coming the opposite way down the sidewalk. (She didn’t say she was mature about it…or subtle.)

When she got home later that week, there were two bottles of rosé on the counter again. “My turn,” Mary Margaret said, handing one over.

Was infidelity just a thing here? Because now her roommate was dealing with it, too. Emma’s opinion of David wasn’t the highest at the moment—he couldn’t string her best friend along and stay with his wife—but the longer Mary Margaret pursued this, the more heartache it was gonna cause.

“Thanks for talking to me about it,” she said, halfway through the bottle. “What about you? How are things with Ian?”

Emma took a long, long drink.

“Gotcha,” Mary Margaret said knowingly.

———.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.———

It came to a head when she was in the station one morning, having arrived to her shift early in order to avoid seeing him at the diner. She was dealing with some paperwork when she heard the front door open. “In here,” she called out, assuming it was Regina telling her off for something she hadn’t done right. Footsteps approached. “What would you like to yell at me about today, Madam Mayor?” she asked sarcastically.

“I hadn’t planned on yelling, but I did want to ask why you’ve been avoiding me.”

Oh shit. Ian was there in the doorway, a coffee cup and bag from Granny’s in his hand, and a serious set in his stare.

“I haven’t,” she lied, then turned back to the computer screen (not that it was doing anything—it still ran Windows 98, after all). “I’ve just been busy.”

“See, I’m actually quite perceptive,” he replied, then stepped forward to set the foodstuffs on the corner of her desk. “And this? This is avoiding.”

She closed her eyes and sighed. “Yeah,” she had to admit. They’d always been honest with each other, even if they’d clearly withheld some things. And given how poorly her attempted lie a moment ago went, it would be dumb to try to again.

“What is it, love? Did I do something wrong?”

She opened her eyes to look up at him, and regretted it—he looked genuinely hurt. What she was about to do probably wouldn’t help.

Staying seated, she bent down to open the bottom drawer on her desk, and then pulled out his file. Then she carefully set it in front of her.

He immediately recognized it, she could tell. “Ah.”

“I’m sorry; I was talking to Regina and she said some things and—curiosity got the best of me.”

“I see.”

She couldn’t tell if he was angry or hurt—or both—but either way, she felt like an ass. May as well throw fuel on the fire. “She mentioned something about your ex, too—specifically, her marital status.”

“She did, did she?” His words were suddenly emotionless.

“Is…is that all you’re gonna say?” she eventually asked quietly.

He blinked slowly, as when he opened his eyes, they were just a bit duller—a bit more reserved. (That was worse than anything else she’d seen recently.)

“What else needs to be said, Swan?” he shrugged. “You apparently have all you need to know right there, between that and whatever the mayor has told you.”

His gaze settled somewhere near the floor and silence stretched uncomfortably between them. Even louder to her, though, was the fact he was just…accepting it.

“Seriously?” she snapped. “You’re not gonna defend yourself, or fight back at whatever is incorrect in my assumptions?”

He furrowed his brow. “What good would it do?”

“Show me you give a crap!” she shouted, standing so fast it sent her rolling chair sliding into the wall. “Because I’m trying to figure out whatever the hell this is,” she went on, gesturing between them, “but I can’t tell if you actually care or not.”

Finally, something steely settled in his gaze.

“Not feeling anything is an attractive option when what you’re feeling sucks,” he stated, plainly but pointedly.

She swallowed at the recitation of what she once had said to Graham. She already knew she wasn’t the first sheriff to strike up a friendship with him, but she was probably the only one Ian had thrown their own words back at.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t make it go away,” she countered.

“If you do it long enough, it does.”

“And then what? You just never feel anything for the rest of your life?” God, Mary Margaret was really rubbing off on her—though that didn’t mean her calling him out wasn’t a little hypocritical.

“It had been working well for me.”

“Fine then,” she spat. “You can go back to your lonely existence and I’ll fuck off to mine and we’ll just leave it at that.” She crossed her arms and curled in on herself; she was definitely pouting, but the alternative was flopping back in her seat and crying.

His face relaxed, almost going the other way into a frown. “Bloody hell, that’s not what—no, love, I—I just thought you knew me better than that,” he admitted, almost apologetically.

“Well, apparently I don’t,” she parroted back. “I’m wondering if I know anything about you. This is some serious shit, Ian.”

“And I thought you of all people might understand that,” he said matter-of-factly. “I remember the headlines after you arrived in town; just because you have a badge now doesn’t mean you’ve always been on the right side of the law, either.”

“I’m not pretending I didn’t!”

“Neither am I. I just don’t go broadcasting it, given that I still have the option not to.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I’d be telling people I killed someone either.”

“I—” He started to talk, but then closed his mouth and clenched his jaw. After taking a deep breath, he said, “Not that I really need to, but can I tell you the full story? Before you completely write me off?”

She nodded, but held back what she was really thinking: that she didn’t want him to write himself off.

“I did get into some bad shit,” he started. “My brother was gone, my ex had just died, and I was suddenly an amputee, so I was alone and spiraling. Fell in with the wrong crowd—classic story. Got in deep with a drug ring, and then I got caught. Killed a member of a warring cartel in the process. But, by some miracle, I had a great lawyer. They got a few of the charges thrown out for lack of evidence and I reached a plea deal on the others, along with a heavily reduced sentence for my cooperation in taking down much of the rest of the ring. Did my time, now I’m here. And I regret it every day.”

“Damn.” That was heavier than expected.

“Aye.” He scratched nervously behind his ear. “Anything else?”

She chewed her bottom lip; she was nervous to ask, but she had to. “So, your ex…”

“My ex was married when we met. But it wasn’t a happy marriage. And I didn’t lure her away, or whatever may have been said—she ran off with me. But I loved her, so I went with it. Until her husband found us and went mad. Tried to cut off my hand; stabbed her. Doctors had to take it the rest of the way off,” he explained, raising his prosthesis. “Add that to the list of reasons why I fell in with the wrong people.”

Fuck. “Yeah, that’ll do it.”

“Indeed.” He toyed with the fingers on his false hand for a moment, and then looked back up at her. “But Swan, why couldn’t you just ask me that? Rather than take the word of a woman who we’ve all seen lie to you—to everyone—before.”

She swallowed. “Because I couldn’t take the chance I was wrong about you.”

“Were you?”

It took her by surprise. “Was I what?”

“Were you wrong about me?” He was staring back at her intently, like he hadn’t just asked a simple but potentially earth-shattering question—but also looked like he was bracing for impact.

She nearly stopped breathing. Not that she had planned any part of this conversation, but when she imagined talking to him again, she thought it’d be more about her figuring out whether he’d let her inside his walls. Logically, it was only fair that he did the same; it was just the first time anyone had followed her in—not to mention challenged her once they were there. (Especially not someone with intense blue eyes, bolder than she’d yet seen them.) And she didn’t know how to respond.

“Because I know I’m not the biggest catch or anything—I’m certainly not Graham—” he went on (and apparently knew where to sting her), “and yeah, I probably still drink a bit more rum than is advised, but other than this—” he nodded at the folder, “—I’ve been nothing but honest with you. So now it’s up to you to decide: whatever it is you’re worried about—were you wrong?”

It had been a long-ass time since anyone had been that bluntly honest with her. (And never someone she was interested in.)

He was right—her lie detector had never gone off with him, either. (It also hadn’t when Regina was gossiping, but it was a little less accurate with noticing exaggerations or omissions.)

He’d never really answered her earlier question, though. “I just need to know one thing,” she said as she stepped around the desk. “I’m not alone in feeling…this, right?” she asked, blatantly stepping into his space.

“No,” he confirmed on a breath.

“Then no, I wasn’t wrong. I think what I was actually scared of…was that I was right.”

“Right?”

She grabbed the lapels of his jacket and quickly found his lips, kissing away any further confusion. (As she was finding out, they were both a bit better at nonverbal communication.)

(And he did taste a bit like rum, but—she liked it.)

———.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.———

She wanted to say things changed from there—they took it fast, or slow, or whatever—but in reality, their relationship really didn’t change. There were still the meals at Granny’s, the nights at the bar. She’d never really been a date-night kind of girl. But emotionally—woah.

It was like she was seeing a whole other side of Ian—but at the same time, it felt like it had always been there, just hiding below the surface. It wasn’t a universal thing—he was still a bit reserved while at work, or around just about anyone other than her and Henry—which made what they had feel all the more special.

There were also more than a few makeout sessions sprinkled in there, too. (Being chased out of the back hall of Granny’s by said proprietress, giggling like teenagers, was one of her more cherished memories since arriving here.)

For a short while, it was simple and sweet and it made her happy. For a little bit, she maybe had the kind of life she’d always hoped—with her son, friends, and a guy she really liked.

But it was like the universe noticed or something—no, Emma Swan couldn’t simply have nice things. Shit always, inevitably hit the fan.

Starting with having to arrest and book her roommate for murder.

She texted ahead and he had a shot waiting for her when she got to the bar after, then a couple more after that. She was definitely loitering—and he could tell. “What is it, love? Aside from the obvious.”

One thing she’d realized: he was exceedingly good at reading her, like a book he couldn’t put down.

“I don’t want to go back to the apartment,” she admitted. “It’s not that I’m afraid to be alone, but knowing that she’s in a cell and I’m there—and that someone may have been in the loft—I just…it freaks me out a bit.”

He swallowed. “Forgive me if this is too forward, but…I could go with you,” he offered. “At least to make sure everything is safe.”

“I’d like that.”

The walk to the loft from the Rabbit Hole was short but filled with energy; there was literally no reason for her to be any sort of excited, but she never invited guys back to her place. Even if she had no plans of anything intimate happening, this was something of a big step for her.

Of course, it ended up being anticlimactic—there was nothing amiss in the flat—but she was still hesitant to want to leave his presence, while at the same time not wanting to seem needy or like she was coming onto him in a subversive way.

“I, uh, could sleep on the couch, if you’d feel better,” he offered, doing that adorable nervous scratch behind the ear. Right—it had been a while for him with this kind of stuff, too.

“Um, yeah, I would. Thanks.”

That was the night she learned he snored—but the sound eventually lulled her to sleep, too.

As it did for the next few nights.

Then came the one after she narrowly escaped that crazy Jefferson’s house with Mary Margaret. She was still shaking as she took the stairs to the apartment and almost didn’t notice Ian sitting on the landing, nearly tripping over his feet.

“Swan, what’s wrong? You never answered my texts so I got worried and came here and, well—I wasn’t sure who to call when the sheriff is the one missing.”

She invited him in—or tried to, but she was trembling so much, she could barely get the key in the lock. Not until his steady hand wrapped around hers and helped.

Once inside, she nearly collapsed just closing the door—both out of relief, and because her adrenaline was finally wearing off. But Ian caught her. And for the first time in years, she let herself be comforted by someone else. (She didn’t cry—she wasn’t ready for that kind of vulnerability yet—but this was kind of a big deal.)

“Do you want me to stay on the couch again tonight?” he murmured when she began to sway, fatigue winning over. She shook her head into his shoulder. (Also: he smelled good. Like, real good.) “Should…should I go?” She shook her head again.

Emma wasn’t a spooner. She took what she needed and then she left. But that was the night she understood why people enjoyed it so much. And waking up still wrapped in his strong arms was a kind of comfort she hadn’t known existed.

There was a brief—but weird—reprieve from the emotional heaviness when it turned out Kathryn Nolan was miraculously alive (despite her heart supposedly being outside her body), and then they held a party to welcome Mary Margaret back home. She shared (more than) a few drinks with Ian after the former; their first official outing as a couple, if it could be called that, was the latter. Mary Margaret arched an eyebrow and smirked at her as she and Ian moved around the kitchen getting ready. Emma just blushed—and then blushed harder when Ian pressed a quick kiss on her cheek as he stepped past her.

Then August kind of went crazy—his offer of help in dealing with the Regina-Sidney-whatever turned into another journey of emotional whiplash. She slumped onto what had become her usual stool at the bar, just a few minutes before close. Ian put some tea in front of her rather than anything stronger and took her upstairs after he’d locked up. He lived there, apparently, in a pretty spartan studio apartment.

“Tell me,” he said gently. Not long ago, she would have brushed something like that off—but not anymore; not with him.

“I’m just tired of all this crap. Not just Regina—the whole curse thing, too. It was fine when it was Henry and I could play along, but now August? And he just—expected me to solve his problem? Just like that? No—no way.” She sighed. “It’s like everyone wants something from me or to fit some role; no one wants just Emma.”

“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong,” he teased lightly. “Because I do.”

Well. She couldn’t argue with that.

And it became all the more obvious when she attacked his lips—and realized the rest of him was in agreement. She’d hesitated to take their relationship to that level; physical relationships were what she was used to, but adding in the emotional layer was something else—something more.

But, as she learned, that was in a good way.

And while drifting off into a post-coital slumber while wrapped in Ian’s steady arms, she didn’t really care what went on in the outside world—as long as she had this.

———.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.———

Should have known that’s when it would all really, truly crash down on her. Henry—god—seeing him in that hospital bed…and not being able to do anything…but it worked: she believed. In magic, the curse—everything. (Especially once Regina confirmed it.)

So now she was on a mission, practically storming from the hospital—when she ran into a pair of arms she’d give anything to just be able to take shelter in right now. “Love—is Henry okay? What’s going on?”

For a minute, she just looked in Ian’s eyes: that now-familiar blue that carried a wisdom beyond his years and echoed his every emotion, so different now from when she’d first met him—but in a good way. The way his worry creased his brow, the weight of his hand on her waist. If the world was about to change, she wanted to memorize him—them—in this moment. “Is everything alright?” he asked again.

She rose up on her toes to give him a firm, but all-too-brief kiss. “It fucking will be,” she told him, then ran off to save the world—or something.

———.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.———

An eternity later (really only a couple hours, but holy shit did it feel longer), she had fought a dragon and then apparently broken a goddamn curse with True Love’s Kiss. All that really mattered was that Henry was okay, but all around her, everyone was coming to terms with what had been done to all of them.

She’d never expected to find out the waitress was a werewolf, or the therapist was a freaking cricket—and really never thought she’d be reunited with her parents. It was amazing, but it was also a lot.

She left Henry with his grandparents—god, grandparents—so she could take a minute and just—breathe.

The salty sea air hit her nose and she realized her feet had taken her to the docks. The view of the sea was soothing, but then she saw someone else there taking in the horizon—someone familiar. He wore the same clothes—the same motorcycle jacket, the black sweater that fit him extremely well, atop his usual dark jeans. But rather than the hand-like prosthesis she’d come to recognize, there was a hook—a freaking stereotypical pirate hook—at the end of his left arm.

(Henry had told her the fairytale counterpart of just about everyone in town—except for Ian. The illustrations in his book were good but maybe not distinct and there were a few options. She had a pretty good idea who it was narrowed down to now, though.)

“Ian?” she asked as she approached, partly to get his attention—and partly because she wasn’t sure who she was talking to.

He turned at the sound of her voice, but looked confused. Until he blinked and shook his head. “Aye, it’s me,” he answered, moving toward her. “My real name, though—it’s Killian, Killian Jones; it…took me a minute there.”

Killian. Similar, but different. It suited him.

But also: Kill-Ian—was the man she held so important now gone, effectively killed by his new—true—self?

“So…how much was real? About you?” she had to ask.

“Some of it.” Apparently that nervous ear scratch carried over. “I am—was—am? A pirate, for decades, until I was caught.”

“Captain Hook?” she wondered, nodding at his prosthesis.

“Ah, so you’ve heard of me,” he smirked. It was similar to the one she knew—the same dimple—but it had a darker edge to it.

“Who hasn’t?” she replied, ignoring the bit of discomfort that was…well, adding to her overall sense of unease.

“The truth—my actual life—is a bit more gruesome than what I once told you. I wanted revenge for the murder of my love. That part was true—she had been the Dark One’s wife, and he killed her, then took my hand.” He emphasized it by toying with the (rather sharp) end of his hook.

Right; Mr. Gold was apparently—actually—a centuries-old sorcerer. “I’m not gonna have to lock you up for going after him, am I?”

“No. See, I got sloppy; I lost sight of things, and that’s how I was caught—by your parents’ kingdom, actually. Was about to be hanged when the Evil Queen’s knight rescued me. Graham.” Her heart skipped a beat. “In return, I offered them my services should they ever need them. Never heard from them again, and then got swept up in the curse.”

She swallowed. “Did she ever take you up on it? During the curse?”

He shook his head. “Never.”

“So, us…” God, she couldn’t even put it into words. If what they’d shared wasn’t…hadn’t meant…she couldn’t fathom.

He very quickly moved into her space and took her hand. “That was very real, Swan.” His gaze had never felt more intense as he went on. “It was my understanding that the curse twisted things—changed us. I had always been someone who felt things very strongly and deeply; it’s why I was so single-mindedly focused on revenge for decades. But then under the curse…I felt nothing—not a bloody thing, for years on end—until I met you, and it all came back. It was like my heart was turned back on—like you brought me back to life.” He rubbed his coarse thumb over the back of her hand. “I know you’re probably questioning things again—especially given that you don’t fully know me, the real version, now—but Emma, I still know you, and I still desperately want you.”

She sighed in relief and nearly sagged into his arms. “Good. Because I think I love you.”

He smiled; it started as a small thing, but he couldn’t hold back from turning into a grin. “That’s appropriate, because I’m fairly certain I love you, too.”

There was a lot she needed to figure out—her life was all kinds of a mess right now—but him—this—whoever he was, he was hers. Even if she didn’t fully know him, it still felt like her heart fit right in the palm of his hand (and vice versa).

She wasted no further time in wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her lips to his; he was equally quick to reciprocate.

And, actually? Killian kissed even better than Ian did.

��——.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.———

thanks for reading! Tagging some friends (including the fabulous and supportive Word Forge): @ohmightydevviepuu @shireness-says @iverna @thejollyroger-writer @wistfulcynic @phiralovesloki @initiala @idoltina @xpumpkindumplingx @cocohook38 @kmomof4 @colinoeyebrows @pirateherokillian @annytecture @stubblesandwich @wingedlioness @scientificapricot @snowbellewells @searchingwardrobes @jrob64 and I know there's more I tend to include but tumblr is being weird about it rn.

#cs ff #captain swan #cursed killian au #spartanguard: from the vault #my ff

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bp-trio · 1 year

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( ALL IN ENGLISH )

[ CROWD CALLING ]

[ PAPARAZZI: HANA, OVER HERE ]

[ PAPARAZZI: HANA, OVER THE SHOULDER ]

Hana opens the door introducing herself with a smile. "Hey Vogue! It's Hana and you guys are getting ready with me for the Met." She says with a cheery tone as her staff cheer, causing her to giggle.

[ UPBEAT ORCHESTRAL MUSIC ]

Hana sits on her chair while her stylists swarm around her, trying to do her hair and makeup. "So today I'm going to be wearing a custom made dress and heels sent by the incredible Versace."

"The look is inspired by Barbie. So actually I was the one who came up with the theme of Barbie. One day I was watching Barbie: A fashion fairytale with my niece and I thought Barbie would be a good theme to go with as the theme for this year Met gala is the embodiment of an American style. And what's more American than Barbie. I actually dyed my hair blonde for the first time for this.”Hana explains her dress.

"So, I send my idea to Donatella and she absolutely loved the idea. So this is our take on Barbie, I guess." She says smiling before walking to into the closet to get changed before coming out in a very long pink dress.

[ CLASSICAL PIANO MUSIC ]

"Rose and I used to dream about ever attending a Met Ball. And never really even believing that would ever happen. Is the literally the biggest dream come true." She says doing a big twirl.

"This is my first time going to the Met gala so I'm just looking forward to being there. I feel like I've seen it for so many years, so it'll be interesting to see what reality of the Met really is. So I hope I don't trip On this dress." She stands still while her stylists are fixing the dress.

Hana now has her hair, nails and makeup done, so she begins to taking pictures on her phone in the mirror and having her staff help her take pictures for her.

Once she received the signal to leave, the Vogue camera follows her outside to where many fans stood behind barriers cheering and scream her name as she and her team leave the hotel. Hana waves at them as she was being escorted to the car. Hana blows a kiss to fans before the door was closed behind her.

"WE LOVE YOU HANA!" A group of fans cheer to the Vogue camera before the videos ends.

[ INTERVIEW; Blackpink's Hana on Attending Her First Met Gala | Met Gala 2021 With Emma Chamberlain ]

Hana walked up to Emma with a warm smile. “No freakin’ way.” Emma said. “Hi!” Hana said as she gave Emma a hug. “Umm, Hello. Excuse me but you look so gorgeous right now.” Hana thanked her. “Thank you. I’m glad my first gala is going well so far.”

“Wait! This is your first Met Gala?” Hana nodded. “No way. Me too.”

“Really?” Hana asked enthusiastically, now feeling less anxious since she wasn’t the only first-timer with Rosé. “Yeah! I honestly thought you have been to the Met before since you have become such a big icon in the fashion world.”

Hana shocked her head, “No, it’s my first time and Rosé’s.

“So, tell me about your outfit?”

“To do that, I would have to bring this brilliant woman to the spotlight.” Hana brings her hand out, and Donatella comes from the corner and takes her hand.

“Hi, how are you?” Donatella asked Emma, “I’m so good, how are you?”

“Very good, thank you.” Donatella responded with a smile.

“So obviously I know who you are wearing. Tell me how you guys came to the conclusion about this dress.”

“Well, when we found out about the theme for this year’s Met Gala, we had many ideas. Hana came up to the brilliant idea of using Barbie for the theme and it was only right that we create custom dress. It’s one for the books and Hana is perfect for this dress. She brings out every aspect of the dress and more.” Donatella explained with her thick Italian accent, her passion shown through each word she said.

“That’s amazing. You really pull of this dress amazingly. I love all of this. So how many Met Gala have you been to?” Emma asked Donatella. “Lots and lots. Twenty maybe?” Donatella laughed. “No way.”

“Yeah.”

“So I feel like you are the best person to ask this. What advice would you give to us? It’s my first and Hana’s. I have no idea what to expect.” Emma asked.

“You are gonna be surrounded by people with lots of creativity and the Met is one of those events that allow you to connect with people. There’s something very special about the Met. So when you are in this great building and have the courage, and freedom to express yourself. My big takeaway is have fun.”

“That’s amazing. Well, I’ll see you guys in there.”

“Thank you.” Hana and Donatella say simultaneously.

[ RED CARPET MOMENTS ]

• Hana and Rosé arriving together. Creating one of the most iconic pictures in the Met Gala history.

•Hana and Donatella Versace being each other’s date.

• Hana staying a little longer than she was supposed to watch Lil Nas X’s transformation on the red carpet.

• Hana and Normani posing together.

[ CLEVVER STYLE ]

[ Best & Worst dressed Met Gala 2021 ]

[ Drew Dorsey ]: oh man, you guys! It is not the first Monday in May, but it is a Monday in September. The 2021 Met Gala is coming at ya!

[ Jackie Iadonisi ]: I can't believe we're here. I can't believe people are actually there. On the carpet, walking it. We are at the 2021 Met Gala, it's happening!

[ Drew Dorsey ]: it's very exciting. This year's theme is America: A lexicon of Fashion and it is very exciting because we did not get the Met Gala last year but we are getting it in 2021. All guests are fully vaccinated and masked, and we are back in Here.

[ Jackie Iadonisi ]: woo woo! And it's also really important because this is coming off the 20th anniversary of 9/11, and it's the tail end of New York Fashion Week, so it's just fashion on fashion on fashion, people, people, people, outfits. I can't wait to see these looks.

[ Drew Dorsey ]: So exciting. Also can we talk about the co-chairs, okay? We have Billie Eilish, we have Hana, we have Rosé, we have Timothee Chalamet, and we are up in here, okay? So you guys know we gotta talk about the fashion.

[ Drew Dorsey ]: it's dirty laundry.

[ Jackie Iadonisi ]: you know. let's go.

( LIGHT MUSIC )

( SHOWS VIDEO OF HANA ON CARPET POSING FOR THE CAMERAS AND PICTURES OF HER )

[ Carly Henderson ]: Hana, looking like a true Barbie doll coming to live.

[ Renee Ariel ]: oh my god. I'm here everything about this. She looks absolutely stunning.

[ Jackie Iadonisi & Drew Dorsey]: Ooh, okayyy. Oh my god.

[ Drew Dorsey ]: Wow, she is so pretty and her dress it's to die for.

[ Jackie Iadonisi ]: Okay, Hana in all custom made Versace. Looking good, looking fly.

[ Renee Ariel ]: Listen, she brought it. This is her first ever Met Gala and I love this look.

[ Carly Henderson ]: I love that her waist looks so snatched and small. And it's makes it the dress look even more amazing than it already is.

[ Drew Dorsey ]: I love this Barbie theme look and the split in the dress is gorgeous and makes her legs look long and sexy. I absolutely love the slit v in the middle of the dress.

[ Jackie Iadonisi ]: I completely agree with you. Her eyes are so pretty.

[ Carly Henderson ]: oh, the jewelry!"

[ Renee Ariel ]: it's all custom made MIKIMOTO 18k Pearl necklace and earrings for her birthday.

[ Carly Henderson ]: oh wow. I wish I got all custom made 18k diamonds for my birthday.

[ Drew Dorsey ]: her shoulder look absolutely amazing. I love the fact she dyed her hair to blonde.

[ Jackie Iadonisi ]: we just gotta talk about Hana for a second, because she's been having a moment after a moment with her solo career. Ah, she is absolutely amazing and an icon.

[ Drew Dorsey ]: Then She brought it to the Met Gala in this, the dress looks like an art piece to me. This is such a gorgeous dress. The color on her is incredible, and the fact that she carried it on with the eyeshadow, this colorful pink makeup look of the night. Obsessed with it, and the confidence, taking up the space. I'm here for it.

[ AFTER PARTY ICONIC MOMENTS ]

•Hana arriving with Rosé. Both were seen dancing with many top celebrities, such as Olivia Rodrigo, smiling and laughing.

•Hana taking part in fun drinking games.

•Hana officially became best friends with Megan Thee Stallion.

•Hana dancing with Anitta and Lil Nas X.

•Many celebrities taking a photo with her and following her on social media.

•Rihanna posting Hana on her Insta story. In the clip, both of them look happy in each other's company where Hana waves at the cam and also showers a flying kiss.

•Rihanna saying she would steal Hana from her company to her sign if she had an entertainment agency.

•Hana, Hailey Bieber, and Kendall Jenner playing rock, paper, and scissors.

• Hana getting a ride in a private helicopter to her hotel.

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allwormdiet · 12 days

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Shell 4.1

As much as I wish Taylor could ride this high forever, unfortunately looks like it's back to school

Taylor. Honey. Dearheart. You keep being really complimentary about your bullies' physical looks, and this does not in any way undermine the hurt they've done to you or your resentment thereof, but it does muddy the waters a little bit as to whether resentment is the only thing you're feeling

The back-and-forth actually feels so refreshing compared to every previous interaction with the bullies, like. My god. Did Taylor just have to rob a bank to get the confidence she needs to not worry about these fuckers? I never thought that John Dillinger therapy would take off but maybe there's a future in that

Better the devil in plain sight than the devil you can't see at all.

John Dillinger therapy! This is what I'm talking about! Let's go Taylor, show that inner strength! Shed the burden!

I mean hell, maybe, or maybe this is an upturn where she finally gets sure enough in herself to get these jerks off her back forever. We'll see how it plays out, right?

The idle speculation on Mr. Quinlan is a little wild but well in keeping with my own experiences. Sometimes teachers just passively generate rumors around them.

This one stupid bit about John Dillinger therapy keeps paying off, this is great, real joke investment opportunity

Honestly Taylor I think you can feel bad about it while also living with it, I'm not gonna pretend to be some expert on morality or philosophy or whatever but I feel like you're allowed a certain number of felonies after enough suffering in your life

Technically not a career boost for the Undersiders, at least not as far as public renown, but making your enemies look like clowns is just as good if not better. Like yeah, those tools on the other side are getting their pay docked because of that bigass hole in the roof of the bank, and you're way richer from the same event

Expanding our understanding of the city a bit more, and honestly this sounds dope as fuck. I'd love to visit every once in a while and just soak in the culture, although not if it meant living in Brockton Bay. That seems. Bad.

Ugh, these kids

Honestly I'm not quite this hardcore but damn if it isn't a mood. I've yet to see proof of Rachel being wrong

Yeah I know she had her dogs attack Taylor, Taylor's an aspiring snitch, it's okay to maul a snitch

I think I knew this part already but honestly I'm more excited to have Rachel lore than anything

I wonder how much leniency can be provided for crimes that happen in the immediate aftermath or because of a trigger event. Maybe not a ton, or maybe enough to get away with murder. I'd be curious to learn more about that, if it ever comes up.

And uhh, yeah, that'd fucking get you dead bodies alright. Wonder if that's why she's so hardcore about the training, making sure that never happens again. Entirely for the dogs' benefit, or only mostly and then there's some part of her that thrives with that kind of control?

Alec you cheeky little shit, you're endearing yourself to me

Honestly Taylor, just try and breathe easy for a little bit, I don't think you've been able to do that in over a year. Take your time, enjoy your walk on the wild side.

Maybe I'm biased but I love these two interacting on their own, so I'm fully in favor of this plan Lisa

Well I'm sure if Lisa ever killed anybody they deserved it, or if nothing else she arranged circumstances so that they ended up deserving it after some mild provocation

it's fiiiiiiiiine

Current Thoughts

This story has such good slice of life, I want more of it every time and every time I get cut off before I'm satisfied. Is that on purpose? If that's on purpose Wildbow might be a more sinister intelligence than I'd thought.

School segment was so blissfully short and Taylor managed to fight Emma to a standstill so this is a huge improvement over every other second she's spent at school

If Rachel ever kills anyone on purpose they deserved it, and if Rachel ever kills anyone on accident it's okay bc everyone makes mistakes

Honestly I'd be willing to accept any of these kids as having a good reason to render someone cadaverrific. Brian and Lisa have good heads on their shoulders and at this point I'm starting to suspect that the lazy gamer thing Alec has going on is like, at least partially a front for a deeper personality, and he's trying to be shallow on purpose, so idk what that means for him being a killer but I somehow doubt he's a fucking Hannibal Lecter type when we're not looking

...Actually come to think on it the only two members the Protectorate has info on is Grue and Bitch, right? Tattletale is an unknown and Regent has almost nothing about him. I'd suspect Grue to be the second killer but I'm not sure if that's a red herring.

Find out eventually, I guess.

...I might have another chapter in me before sacking out for the night. We'll see.

#parahumans #worm liveblogging #liveblog #worm shell #wormblr

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ladylooch · 1 year

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Loving & Leaving- Part 3

Visit the series page here.

A/N: Eep! I am so excited you all are loving this. It bring me so much joy. I am legit giddy posting this next chapter 😁 I hope you love it. This fic is consuming so much of my writing time. I'm very focused on getting these two right. I know I've nailed it when I'm editing and feel the way I want the reader to feel.

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: SMUT 18+ Content!, Swearing, Angsty, jealousy, poor choices. ha!

Halloween was five days ago, but by the look of the streets of Hoboken, you wouldn’t know. Being from Switzerland, we don’t celebrate Halloween. But when I surprised Nico with a quick visit to America, he insisted I needed to join for the team’s get together, which had to be moved into November because of a Halloween away game. Usually, it’s done at someone’s house, but this year, no one really wanted to host, so we are heading to the bar the team frequents after home wins. Currently, I’m doing the female right of passage by freezing my ass off as we shuffle down the street. Tinker Bell was probably not the warmest choice for me, but it is definitely the sluttiest. Paired with a short, sequined green dress and a thin pair of wings, my emerald high heels reflect the yellowy hue of the New Jersey street lights.

Despite the cold, I look hot. We walk by several groups of people loitering around. I can feel eyes follow me as I move forward. My confidence grows as I smirk, weaving my arm through my brothers for balance as the sidewalk gets a little rocky. Nico wraps a secure hand around my waist before pointing to my right. There is a line to get in, unless you’re with a professional hockey player. The bass of Salt Shaker by Ying Yang Twins rattles my teeth in my head when we step into the dark space. It’s packed with any character you can imagine. I grin, looking at Nico, silently agreeing that this is going to be just as fun as he promised.

Which is exactly what I need.

Ever since Timo left me at the end of the driveway, life has taken on a shade of gray. Work has felt more like a chore than a passion. I passively agreed to a few dates with a friend’s friend, which has been fine, but nothing I want to pursue further. I’ve found myself dreaming of America, which is why I booked a quick ticket two weeks ago, then called Nico to share the news. He was surprised. I’ll be back here for Christmas and two, long international trips in a row is new behavior for me.

“I’ll never say no to a visit from you.” He concluded. And it was set.

In a red wine clouded night, I texted Timo last week to let him know I would be in town. I’m still waiting on a response. Despite his silence, I know he’s here tonight, and ignoring me when I look this good, won’t be easy for him. The group of Devils is sitting at the back of the bar in their usually spot. Nico leads the way, my hand on the back of his firefighter costume to not get lost in the sea of people.

When we reach the group, my eyes immediately find Timo. He is to my right, chatting with Dawson Mercer. He looks up as he laughs, eyes catching mine. I see him visibly suck in a breath before his eyes rake over my whole costume. He tries to hide the flicker of desire, but I know him better than that.

“Boys, you remember my sister, Emma.” Nico introduces me to the table. All the boys give drink tilts or waves except for Timo, who is suddenly fixated on a busty cat at the other table. My eyebrows tug together. He’s not fooling me, but fine, he wants to be like that, I won’t make it easy. I make my way around the table, patting each of the boys on the back until I get to the empty seat next to Timo. I plop right down next to him, grabbing his beer from his hand and chugging the rest of it.

“Uh. You’re welcome?” He questions with a snip.

“Just couldn’t wait. Go get me another.” He stares me down, blue eyes tumultuous. The cat is distracted by Ted Lasso and leaves to trail after him. Timo sighs in reservation of an opportunity blown. His chair scrapes the wood floor harshly as he knocks back from the table to go to the bar.

“Here.” He slams the golden liquid down on the table. Some of it sloshes down the glass and puddles on the table. “Kinda bullshit considering you don’t like beer.”

“Oh, I like beer. It just doesn’t like me.” It turns me into a sloppy lightweight drunk, which he is well aware of. I chug a few more sips, licking the foam from my top lip without taking my eyes from his. A whole conversation silently passed between us.

“I said I’m done.” He reminds me. Not sure who he’s trying to convince here cause he devours my lips as they plump in disbelief.

“We’ll see. Too cool for a costume?” I gesture to his white tuxedo. It’s probably a little fancier than his usual attire, but not completely out of character.

“I’m James Bond.”

“Without a martini?”

“What are you?”

“Tinker Bell.” I point to the wings on my back. His eyes hover at the way my skirt hikes further up my thigh as I cross my leg. My bare ass is practically hanging out.

“I can’t believe your brother let you out like that. And where is your coat? It’s like 30 degrees out.” I have to suck my cheeks in to avoid a smile. Even when he’s hurt and mad at me, he cares.

“Hot girls get hypothermia on Halloween. It’s like a right of passage.” I shrug.

“What do you know about Halloween?” He squints, licking his lips after a taste of his beer.

“Not much. But I know how good I look tonight.” I flick my hair back off my shoulder, scrunching it up and tossing him a kiss. “Play your cards right, Bond, and you’ll be the one in my bed.” He laughs without humor, leaning forward until he crowds my space. His cologne assaults my nose, mixing with my flowery perfume. They’re complimentary scents. His gaze drags over my face; a hint of interest is quickly squashed with a cold stare.

“I think it’s time for me to be the clear one. All you are to me tonight is my teammates’ sister.” My eyebrows draw tight together in shock. “Have a good night, Emma.” He pushes back from his chair again, following a few of his teammates across the bar to the pool tables.

What the fuck just happened?

- - -

My ears pound in steady pulses at both the loud music and my beer buzz. I sway as I attempt to return from the bathroom, bumping into Waldo.

“Sorry.” I mutter, patting his arm in acknowledgement before moving on. I get back to the group of Devils, standing next to my brother so he knows I’m back from my bathroom break. Nico hands me back my beer without looking at me.

I feel so invisible tonight. My brother doesn’t care- too busy chatting up a Powderpuff girl. Timo has been gone from the group since he referred to me as his teammate’s sister. I drunkenly snort at the memory. Sure, he must cum in all his teammate’s sisters then. I slump against Nico’s shoulder, slinging my arm around them and drawing his attention.

“Ah..” He coughs out, wiggling away from me. “My sister, Emma.” He tells the Pink Powderpuff.

“OMG! My Big is named Emma!” She shouts excitedly. I glance at Nico who shrugs. I stare back at him like, really? This one? He grins, shrugging again, silently indicating he is interested in her for only one thing… and one night.

“So fun.” I respond, tossing a fake smile on my lips. The sounds of Party in the U.S.A. blast over the speakers, so Blossom drags my brother out onto the makeshift dance floor. I shake my head at him, rolling my eyes at his choices.

That’s when I see him, pressed tightly up with another blonde. What is with him and blue eyed blondes? I have dark, chestnut hair and eyes. What’s he trying to prove here? I grab my beer, chugging down a few hefty sips before slamming the glass back on the table. He’s doing this to torture me. They’re standing close together, talking and taking fast drinks of their High Noons. He told me he didn’t like those. His smile is genuine, crinkling the corners of his eyes. I can almost hear his soft laughter from here.

She snakes an arm around his hips, stepping closer. He does the same, putting his hands on her hips. I swear a piece of my soul dies when he leans even closer to hear her speak. After months of feeling numb, I want to feel something. Anything. And he’s right here in front of me, acting like I’m nothing to him now. I can’t stand it. I want to lash out, scream, pull his face to mine and shove my tongue into his mouth until he kisses me back with as much desperation as I feel in blood right now. Instead of going to tell him that, I grab the first Devils player I can, stepping into his embrace. It’s John Marino.

“Hey.” He grins. I smile back, then slide behind him to look at Timo. His eyes are still on the blonde. If it was quieter in here, John could hear my whimper. John's hands are firmly in respectable places on my waist, barely touching me. I give him an easy smile, stepping closer so our bodies touch all along our fronts.

“You look like a good time.” I murmur to him, running my hands through the long strands of his brown hair. He’s dressed as Buzz Lightyear, dome helmet flipped up. “Can you breathe like that?” I joke, fingering the plastic.

“Barely, but not cause of the helmet.” I laugh easily, crossing my wrists at the back of his neck as we sway together. His hand slides down my lower back. A heat runs through my body that has nothing to do with John. It’s Timo. He’s watching now. I encourage John to put his hands lower, going to my tip toes to whisper in his ear.

“Must be my pixie dust.”

“It’s putting a spell on me.” His obvious interest guides his hands further down until he grips my ass in both hands. I’m guided by the ache in my chest for Timo and the undivided attention I’m getting. Maybe I could have someone else tonight, just to forget about him. He doesn’t care. He’s obsessed with anyone who isn’t me in this bar. I grin at John, tilting my lips up towards his. They never meet. A different hand comes around my waist, pulling me back into a solid, familiar chest and out of John's grip.

“That’s enough. She’s Nico’s sister for fucks sake.” Timo growls. John holds his hands up, backing away, clearly heading the warning from his left wing. It’s not John's fault. He doesn’t know who I used to belong to. Which is exactly the look Timo gives me when his blue eyes pierce mine.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Timo snarls, strong hands holding my hips in place when I try to wiggle away.

“Leave me alone.” I shoving off his chest. It’s a weak attempt and my fingers curl in, groping him more than anything else.

“You’re just doing this shit on purpose.” He spits out in disgust. Like he wasn’t just feeling up a cat? Pfffft.

“At least I’m not grinding with Jersey TRASH.” I snort. “That girl? What the fuck does she have that I don’t?” I gesture to my short green dress that doesn’t leave much to the imagination.

Woof, I’m drunk. And desperate.

He stares back at me. His hands are still fastened to my hips, squinting in the low lighting of the bar as the world moves around us. Then, he leans forward, resting his mouth close to my ear as he looks beyond me to where the rest of the team still sits.

“Emma, you know how perfect you are to me. But you are killing me. I’m trying to move on with my life.” Fear grips my stomach, icing my buzz and my anger. I don’t want him to move on. I want him to bring me home, falling each other and forget anything else but how good it feels when we are together.

“I think I’m going to be sick.” I stutter.

“Do you need to go to the bathroom?” He looks around for a sign as to where they are. He starts tugging me that way, but I stop him.

“I just want to go home.” Something about the look on my face softens him. His touch becomes gentle and safe again. It reminds me of when it’s been late, our third time around, and he’s trying to soothe the angry, red rashes he made along my hips and breasts.

“I’ll take you.” He whispers into my ear, lips slicing across my cheek.

I wrap my arm around his waist, putting my face against his pec. One of his hands moves up to my head, caressing me to his chest. He drops a kiss there then calls across the bar to my brother. I feel him motion around and Nico must understand because he doesn’t follow us out. When I hit the nippy air, I chatter in my skimpy costume. Timo shrugs his winter jacket off, wrapping it around my body as we walk the two blocks back to their apartment building. It’s not enough, so he keeps his arm around my shoulder, his body heat transferring to me. He drops his arms when we enter the building together.

“You drive me crazy.” He mutters when we are in the elevator, rolling his eyes and stretching his tense neck out. I think back to the girl at the bar, wondering if he wishes she was here instead. They would ride up to his place together. Maybe she would get on her knees and take him deep into her mouth until he couldn’t take it anymore. My stomach twists again.

I stare down at my heels in silence after that visual. I feel gross. My heavy make up is clogging my pores with each passing second. My feet hurt. The elevator spins and Timo looks like he would rather be anywhere than here with me. Tears make the floor fade as the door opens on the 13th floor. No attempt to stop at the 10th this time. Timo waits for me to step out first.

“Let’s get you in bed.” He encourages with a friendly hand on the upper back.

I dig around in my purse until I find my keys, giving them to Timo to open Nico’s apartment. He pushes the door open, allowing me to walk through first. I sulk in, tossing my purse on the floor, punting my heels off. The door quietly clicks shut. I whip my head around.

“I’m still here.” He kicks his expensive sneakers off and moves towards me with his hands in his pockets. I watch his approach with frustrated eyes. I am riding a rollercoaster of emotions right now. I hate him. I want him. I can’t stand to be in the same room with him. I think I’ll die if he leaves here without touching me. He sees all of this on my face as he stops in front of me.

“Why are you still here?” I ask.

“I don’t know.” He whispers back.

He doesn’t remove his hands from his pockets. He doesn’t step forward to touch me. Nothing. He just stares back at me like I’m some ticking bomb he should run in the opposite direction from. I hate it. Agitation builds in my body and makes my skin crawl. The elastic of the wings begins to feel like it’s cutting off the circulation in my arms. I try to wiggle my way out of them, getting frustrated.

“Fucking, stupid, cheap, pieces of crap.” I mutter, tugging at the white elastic to try and get free.

“Let me help.” Timo says, gripping my hand to stop my movements. He easily loops his fingers through the two straps, tugging them off my arms as I let them dangle behind my back.

“Thank you.” I whisper then bite my cheek. “Can you get my-” I already feel his touch on the zipper of my dress, working it slowly down, tooth by tooth, exposing my bare back and the top part of my butt. I hold my breath as he gets to the end. His strong hands spiral around my ribs to my stomach, pulling me back into his hard erection. I rest the back of my head on his shoulder and sigh.

“All night, I’ve been wondering if you were wearing anything under this. I wish I didn’t know.” He murmurs in my ear. My hair brushes along my cheek from his breath. I hear him swallow hard. “I should leave.” I don’t breathe, just continue to stare straight ahead at the hallway in front of me. I reach for his fingers, lacing mine between them and moving our hands to my hips, pushing the dress out so it falls down my body. Then, I bring them up my body, balancing the weight of my breasts in our hands.

“Jesus, Em. You’re making this so hard on me.”

“I know. I can feel it.”

“We are supposed to be done with each other.” He swipes his fingers across my hard nipples like he’s already forgotten his words. A flicker of hurt hangs in the air from his tone, but then I release one of his hands to cup his hard erection and it disappears into the desire between us. He rolls his hips into my touch.

“There are some things a girl just can’t quit. You’re one of them, Timo Meier.”

He spins me fast to face him. My lips tilt up to meet his and he kisses me back with frenzy. Our mouthes devour each other greedily. His hands run everywhere and nowhere on my body. I grope at his back, then run my hands over his taut ass, squeezing us tight together. He grinds his hips into me, pushing his erection against my stomach. His lips move from my mouth to my jaw, then down to my throat where he sucks my skin into his mouth.

“Missed how you feel in my hands, baby.” He murmurs, tongue lapping at the bruise that will go back with me to Switzerland on Sunday. I close my eyes, savoring the way he praises me. God, I missed his sweet words and strong, greedy hands.

We completely forget about being in the middle of the apartment. I shove at his white tuxedo jacket. He helps work it off his strong biceps. I pull back to stare at the suspenders running up and over his shoulders. I aggressively bite my bottom lip and snap them with my hands. He laughs, running his hands along my thighs to pick me up. I shove the straps from his shoulders then get to work on his white buttons.

“Cheater.” I murmur, unsnapping his bowtie when I’m done.

“Bow ties are not my strong point.” He insists as he carefully lays me down on the dining room table. He pulls his wallet out of his pants, tossing it to the left of me for easy access. I watch him, legs spread wide, as he gazes at my folds while undoing his pants. “You guys use this table?”

“No. We eat at the counter.” I laugh as he steps out of his pants. His boxer briefs slide down next and I groan at the sight of him jutting out, rigid and already seeping from the tip.

“That’s good. I’m going to ruin it for you.” I chuckle, reaching up for him. His lips come to mine again, a little less aggressive than before. He takes his time, savoring the feeling of me. His tongue glides along the seam then strokes against mine. I melt in his hands as they come around to protect my head from the wood. Timo sighs heavily into my mouth and I hook my ankles around his butt. He moves his bare cock through my wetness, teasing me, building the tension until my inner muscles pulse around an aching emptiness.

“Love me.” I moan out. He pulls back, searching my face. “Please. Like you said you do.”

“Not how I saw this night going.” He chuckles honestly, smoothing my wild hair back from where a piece of it had been stuck between our mouthes.

“Me either.” I answer honestly. But I ache in so many more places than just my core. My heart beats heavy in my chest, needing to feel a connection with him.

He reaches for a condom in his wallet he had tossed on the table. I grab it from his hands, throwing it to the floor.

“I want you like last time.” He hesitates, nostrils flaring, eyes trailing along my bare body, savoring every curve with his blue gaze. “I’m clean. No one else.”

“Me too.” Relief courses through me.

“Really?”

“Yeah, Em. Not interested in anyone else.” He says it to me like it’s a reminder. The familiar sound of his I love you in Switzerland causes my legs to spread wider for him.

“Show me what you thought about doing to me while we have been apart.” He moans, dropping his face to my lips again.

“I love you like this. So needy and desperate for me to fill you.” He says between teasing strokes again. He grips his cock, steadying his head against my entrance, then gliding his hips forward. My body releases in ecstasy at the feeling of him there.

“Ohmygod.” My eyebrows pull tight together in pleasure. I swallow, then gnaw on my lip as he puts his hands under my hips to pull me farther off the table. Then, he covers my body with his. His hands lace with both of mine and he makes love to me just like I begged. His thrusts are slow and sweet, focused only on my pleasure. He’s deep and generous with each thrust. I stare at him, knowing I’m falling in love with him. He brings his mouth down to mine and our tongues sloppily connect. The table begins to rattle from our movements as I match each of Timo’s deep thrusts with a moan.

“Fuck, I missed you.” He sighs into my mouth.

“Me too. Hate being home without you now.” I admit. I shouldn’t say that to him in the heat of the moment, but it’s true. I do. It’s why I’m here, as much as my brother thinks it is for him.

“I’m sorry I left you like that this summer.” He says, stroking a bit faster into me. “I hate myself for it.”

“It’s okay. I know you had to.” I bring his lips back to mine. “God damn it.” I shout as he fucks harder into me. My orgasm is pulsing within me, squeezing him with each pump.

“Say my name, sweetheart.” I moan it back to him. He puts his lips on mine afterwards, fucking me steadily as I shiver beneath him then collapse into the first wave of my orgasm. “Tell me I can come inside of you. Please.” He sounds tortured.

“Yes. God, yes. Please.” The way we both beg for each other causes a wildness between us. I moan as my second orgasm builds with his faster pumps. I shout his name as I come again, fast, harder this time. Tingles of pleasure rush down my legs so they become limp around his waist. His cum shoots out, filling me, coating my walls in the most intimate way. I grip his shoulders, shoving my face into his neck so I can feel every beat of his heart and gasping breath.

That was without a doubt the best sex we have ever had.

Timo turns his head to kiss my swollen lips. He moans into my mouth as he sputters more into me. His hands rock my hips back into him again as my feminine grunt encourages him more.

“Take me again. Just like that.” I whimper when he tries to pull away.

“Okay, but let’s go to my bed.” He kisses along my face before pulling out of me.

The second time, in Timo’s bed, surrounded by the pieces of his life, is even better.

“You fit perfectly here. Like you could just stay here forever.” He coos when we are done with a third round that started in the shower and ended on the floor of his bedroom, fingers brushing my hair back from my forehead.

“Tell me more.” I sigh, flicking my gaze on his. Fueled by love and afterglow, I barely protest as he begins to say all the usual things about the life he can give to me and all the adventures we can share together. I say nothing, just listen to him speak, thinking about what awaits for me back home. In comparison to this feeling, that life doesn’t matter much to me anymore. I think about telling him that, but it’s late and we’re both high on orgasmic bliss and it doesn’t feel completely right yet.

“You act like Switzerland doesn’t have anything to offer me. You Swiss boys dream too much.” I rub my fingers along his corse stubble. He shakes his head at me.

“Just give in to me, Hischier.”

“Maybe tomorrow.” A soft smile stretches my lips apart. He sighs out a laugh, pressing his mouth over mine. We lazily twirl our tongues together, savoring the feeling of being in each others arms again.

By midnight, we are asleep in a tangle of naked limbs, having no idea what we’ve just done.

#TM: Loving & Leaving #Timo Meier #Timo Meier Smut #hockey writing #New Jersey Devils #NHL fan fiction

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flowers-for-em · 9 months

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this is a two part vent lol (not really lol but you know im taking the edge off)

I've actual never done one of these on here so here goes absoluelty nothing (btw there might be swearing)

part one:

my birthday is coming up soon and we originally had plans to go away and i was super excited, but then my parents changed their plans and said we weren't going away for a few days, we were only going away for one day (on my birthday so that mean travelling on the day) and now they've changed it again and said we can't go away cause they have to feed one of our friends dogs for a few days. I get they're our friends and you want to get the right thing, but they've changed my birthday plans so much, it feels like they aren't putting in a whole lot of effort (for reference one year for my my sister's birthday we went to two different cities doing treetops courses it took a whole week to complete) They're saying that instead of going away for my birthday we'll use the money for when we go away to the eras tour concert which is two days after my dads birthday. So we're technically going away for two things my dads birthday and the eras tour which is for my sister because she is the hugest swiftie (so am i really). And i am super grateful to be going but it feels like they are putting me second to a fucking concert.

And so i babysit a girl on a regular basis its usually just whenever her mum needs me to look after her - im very flexible and things when it comes to that. But they are moving in like a week. So they want me to look after her on wednesday, thursday, and friday. Friday is my birthday and one of my relatives is coming up to visit and another wants to take us all out for lunch on that day. My mum said i'd babysit her on all those days. meaning on my birthday - which i guess i was never alright with in the first place - and when i started to protest and say it would be weird going out for lunch with my family my mother started questioning me and asking why it would be weird because we were doing a nice thing for her mother (because it was her last day of work.) and again it feels like im coming fucking second to someone else ON MY FUCKING BIRTHDAY?? idk its just (i supposed i never really had any high hopes anyway)

part two:

I visited my grandmother today. (she is the one who wants to take my family out for lunch on my birthday btw) It was great to see her we had a lovely catch up and everything. But when we sat down for lunch and she placed the plates in front of us say said this to me "you start with the salad hey em?" and i kinda brushed it off in front of everyone - it wouldn't've been a big deal if she hadn't done this shit before. She constantly makes subtle oh so subtle remarks about my weight about how i sit about what i eat (i could deadass be eating a piece of fruit and she'd say okay maybe its time to stop eating now) Then when she set our "dessert" i guess you could call it - it was just a cheescake she wanted us to try - when she set mine down she motioned to the fruit platter sitting on the table saying "put some fruit on it ems" and that would've been fine as well if she had addressed it to everyone and said it loud enough for everyone to hear. but no it was said to me and me alone. I remember this one time (it was one of the first times i noticed her making subtle remarks) when we were driving to the shops one day and she had offered me like a chocolate covered liquorice bullet. So i took two, so did she. (btw they are legit half the size of ur pinky finger) and she then turned to me and said "you know emma i always only take two of these otherwise it makes me put on weight you know? I like to savour them, just one or two." I was the only one in the car and had fucking taken the same amount as her. When i had come that afternoon and sorta told mum and dad what happened dad just brushed it off saying you know she didn't mean it like that and everything. Mum was a little more understanding saying she understood but idk really. It makes me very fucking insecure when my grandma makes little comments like that. And i don't think i could ever bring it up with anyone cause i doubt anyone in my family would actually understand.

sorry bout the long rants :)

#tw vent #vent #ems rambles

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wespirallin · 2 months

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feather in your cap (a sweet tooth fanfic)

Okay so some of you've probably seen the first chapter/prologue I've posted in the st community and I want to continue posting the new chapters in both ao2 and wattpad, and also here, in my blog. (there's a slight problem with ao3 for now but I'll update you when I have access to my account lol).

here you go people, the second chapter.

Chapter 2 // conform

Before Benji even unlocked the front door, he could hear the dampened voice of Adele filling up their house. A rare smile graced his lips as he hummed along to "Rolling in the Deep".

Conversations of Adele had made up the first date between the two very drunk young adults. Benji could still remember it like yesterday, how a 20-year-old Pemma had forced him to dance rock-and-roll (they were very drunk okay??) to the very same song in a crowded bar. From that moment on, he knew he wanted a future with that woman. She had made Benji feel free, for what might’ve been the first time ever. Of course, drunk thoughts and decisions never ended well, but this one seemed to be an exception for Benjamin Crane.

Benji found his wife seated where she spent most of her time nowadays. The wooden table they had built together, whose sole purpose was to serve as a puzzle table. She stuck her tongue out in concentration as she frantically checked almost every remaining piece.

Putting jigsaw puzzles together had always been a stable and favored pastime activity for the pair. They spent most of their free time seated in front of a thousand-piece puzzle for days in comfortable silence, accompanied by a cup of tea. Sometimes they even each got a puzzle with fewer pieces just to race each other. Pemma almost always won.

This puzzle was an artistically drawn piece of the "Gaang" as Pemma liked to call the team of four teenagers from their comfort TV show. It was a fan-made piece from Emma (Sam's wife) that she'd made for them before she passed away. Benji already knew that his kids would grow up watching the records of the show.

The piece had survived most of Pemma's mood swings (Benji had stayed up all night once to renew the two weeks of progress after a particularly bad one), and it was more than halfway done. They really wanted to be over with it and hang it up on the wall before the twins arrived. Benji was sure that the piece could not handle a pregnant lady and two newborns.

“Hey love”, greeted Benji, walking over and pressing a kiss on Pemma’s forehead. “How have you been? Any pain or discomfort?”

Pemma smiled up at him with those bright blue eyes he had fallen for over a decade ago.

“You know how it goes by now. Mood swings and some nausea. Went for a walk in the park at one point. It was a calmer day than usual. One of the little rascals did keep kicking me all day though, and it tickled for some reason this time. I’m telling you, Benji, we’re going to have twins with two very different personalities.”

Benji beamed at her.

“Looks like one of them shares their mom’s hyperactivity”, he joked.

Pemma swatted at his arm. “You’ll realize it’s more of a curse than a gift if it turns out you’re right.”

“That’s okay, we’ll love them either way”, Benji said warmly.

Pemma’s smile fell ever so slightly and she faced her husband with a hesitant look.

“But what if…what if they turn out to be hybrids Ben?”, her voice getting weaker towards the end. “I wouldn’t know what to do.”

Benji's expression hardened. He couldn’t stand how scared his wife looked. He wanted to promise her that everything would be fine, but how could he when even he didn’t believe that?

Yeah, what if the kids turned out to be hybrids? Benji didn’t know how he could love and raise something so…non-human and unnatural as his own. He just couldn’t imagine himself holding something half-animal, half-human, and thinking, “Yes, this is my kid. Mine to protect, to parent, and to love forever.”

Plus, he was well aware of the new organization that called themselves ‘The Last Men’ (what a stupid ass name that was). He knew how they snatched up the hybrid kids to do god knows what to them. He also knew what happened to the parents who tried to resist. He couldn’t have Pemma going through that. He wouldn't risk losing what he had because of a freaky hybrid kid.

Pemma looked her husband up and down as she tried to gauge his thought proccest. She knew he never looked warmly to hybrids, let alone them having to parent one. Shamefully, she couldn’t say that she disagreed with him. The idea itself scared her so much sometimes that she forgot how to breathe. At the same time, she couldn’t imagine herself not loving any of her babies. How could she look at any of their faces and deny them of the motherly love she was so ready to share?

When Benji finally pulled a chair and sat down across her, she saw the telltale sign of him coming to a decision. One he knew she wouldn't like.

She took his clammy hands in hers and tried to catch his warm brown eyes.

When he finally did look up, Pemma saw a slightly unnerving shine in his eyes. A shine that make her gut churn uncomfortably.

“Penny for your thoughts, Ben?”

Ben caught the scared edge on Pemma’s voice and it made him want to rip his hair out in frustration. He ignored it for both of their sakes.

“I won’t let anyone, anything destroy what we have…what we’ve built for us okay? If…” he took a deep breath, “If it comes to that, then I’ll do anything in my power to make them normal, what they’re meant to be”, he promised with a set jaw. It was more of a promise to himself than to his wife.

Pemma’s worry lines deepened as her face scrunched up in disbelief. Before she could say anything though, a wave of excruciating pain ripped through her and she couldn’t help the scream she let out. All the previous tension was forgotten as Benji shot up from his chair, steadying Pemma as she doubled over in pain.

“Pems!? What- what is it? Is it the kids? Contractions? Are they-”

“No, I’m just constipated- YES Benji it’s the kids. Now get me to the kiddie pool before I pass out.”

“B-But what? They’re early -you -we, I-I thought we had at least-”

Pemma shot him a murderous look.

“Benji I swear to god-”

“Okay okay, sorry! I got this! I got this.”

Benji took a few deep breaths to steady himself as he hauled Pemma to her feet and gently dragged her to the kiddie pool. He thanked his past self a hundred times for already setting the pool up -just in case.

. . .

It’s crazy how quickly life can change up on you sometimes.

One moment you’re stacking puzzle pieces next to each other, the next you’ve given birth to two beautiful newborns.

One moment you’re shedding tears of joy, the next you realize the baby in your arms has feathers. Brown and white feathers that make up two very mesmerizing wings. Two beautiful wings that are bunched up behind a small body that’s wriggling and crying obnoxiously. He’s beautiful, you think. You have to tear your eyes away from the unique pattern of discoloration on his face as you realize his father falling apart next to you, holding your other baby in his arms. In contrast to his sibling, this one isn’t crying.

One moment you’re ready to celebrate the birth of your two baby boys, the next, you’re sure you’re going to die from the pain of losing one.

A wail rips out from you, a wail that matches the baby's cries in your arms.

“Benji! Benji what? What’s wrong? What’s wrong with him?? Why is my baby not crying? Benji let me see him!”

Benjamin pleads his tears and sobs away. He pleads the ugly, ugly disappointment and the heartwrenching pain in his gut away as he forces himself not to look at that…thing. That thing that killed his son. He faces his wife instead and pleads the tears away because he has to be strong. He has to be strong, for his wife needs him now. His wife needs him by her side, just as much as Benji needs her.

So he gently wraps up the dead newborn in his arms with a blanket. A blanket that was identical to the that was wrapped around the hybrid kid. A blanket that was chosen by the couple exactly nine months ago. A blanket that was supposed to have had the chance to be washed and used over and over again.

With whatever strength he had left, Benj dragged himself towards his wife in the kiddie pool and wrapped his arms around the sobbing woman. He gently cupped her cheeks and wiped her tears away with shaky hands. The man's own cheeks were drenched with the tears that kept on spilling, almost in stubborn defiance against his pleas.

It’s crazy how merciless life can be sometimes.

Because one moment you’re mourning the loss of a child, the next you’re trying to keep your wife alive.

One moment you’re the husband, the next you're need to be the doctor.

Thousands of thoughts raced through Doctor Crane’s mind as he tried to identify what may have caused the postpartum hemorrhage.

Blood clotting condition? Thrombin maybe? Not likely, Pemma’s scratches always healed fast.

Uterine atony? No, no he would’ve realized if there had been a steady loss of blood after the delivery…right? He would’ve realized. He would've.

Uterine trauma? Yeah, yeah that was most likely it…but from what? Benji’s eyes hardened as he looked at the hybrid baby with accusing eyes. The kid had wings, but no way were feathers sharp enough to cause any damage to the uterine. The baby was half a bird, right? So talons maybe?

Benji’s eyes frantically darted from side to side and his breathing picked up as he tried to pinpoint what had caused the excessive bleeding. He was no expert in childborth. He remembered taking a general education about it in med school but he had little knowledge of complications. He racked his brain for anything that could help Pemma.

All his thoughts came to a halt when he felt a weak hand squeeze his shanking one. Pemma.

“Ben…just be with me for a moment.”

And it’s crazy how life could be so merciless because here she was, bleeding out, but still having to be the strong one for Benji.

She looked into his eyes with a sense of serenity, because she knew. She knew that she wouldn’t make it. And Benji saw no sign of anger nor fear in her bright blue eyes. He saw no trace of blame in them and he just knew she didn’t blame him for what was happening. She didn’t blame him for being the doctor and not being able to save her, because of course she didn’t.

Pemma could barely think straight because of the shock her brain was going through. The shock that left her airless and unable to collect her breath.

Call her delusional but it reminded her of the way she forgot how to breathe when she saw the same pair of warm brown eyes for the first time. That was a decade ago. Those brown eyes that had her offered so much comfort throughout the years, but now held so much pain inside. The same brown eyes that looked at her with so much love whenever she met them. The same love she was sure that he would show their kid after she was gone.

And life was so merciless to Benjamin Crane that day, for not only had he buried a child and a soulmate, but he was also left alone with the hybrid baby that had caused it all.

#sweet tooth show #sweet tooth fanfic #sweet tooth oc #sweet tooth netflix #fanfic #multiple ocs #sweet tooth s1

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kayrockerqog · 10 months

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okay this is gonna be my general reaction post for episodes 2-4 of the reboot, so spoilers are UNDER. THE. CUT.

okay so one: I have never been more conflicted about a ship in my fucking life

this is ripaxel specific, because of course it is, what else would we be talking about here

on the one hand, no, not in a million years, what are the writers thinking, what insanity is this, I'm so confused and not in a good way at all

but on the OTHER hand...he did opt for using something she liked in a unique way to get her attention, and was like, mega cringefail about it but it still worked??? SHE liked it??? that's the important part.

so???? i'd have to see further how they progress with this before I decide, because oh god was the secondhand embarrassment horrifying during these past few episodes

now, two: caleb and priya

cute pairing! great potential. but GIRL IF I AM NOT FEARING FOR THAT GIRL'S EMOTIONS RIGHT NOW!!!! I CANT TELL IF HE'S LIKE GENUINELY LEADING HER ON FOR AN ALLIANCE OR JUST FUCKING STUPID AND DOESNT REALIZE SHE'S LIKE, INTO HIM INTO HIM!!! if he hurts her I'm suing, I'm going insane, he will be dead by dawn

three: rajbow + Wayne and the in-game cheating

again, never been so conflicted in my life, me and Bowie are twinning

on the one hand, I am SO glad he's like actually conflicted and doesn't like lying to Raj. Again, surpassing my expectations on behalf of the writers because I would've 100% expected them to make him lean into cheating without repercussions

on the other...Raj and Wayne being upset about cheating actually makes ME kinda upset despite how much I adore MK and Julia's antics!!! like!!!! the boys just want a fair fun game!!!!! how can you say no to those faces???? they're like puppies I stg

i AM relieved this is like, a cheating in the GAME plot and not a cheating in the RELATIONSHIP plot because that is ALSO a TD Taboo and I was afraid, they're still adorable and have an actual narrative, god bless

four: mkulia

canon, it's canon, idk what else you want me to say man

also, very important MK image

look at her go... i love her actually

five: sha-lightning round

Millie and Damien's entire feud and make-up was surprisingly well done!! and despite the fact she got eliminated that episode it was still a happy ending that fit really well with both of them!! I'm glad Damien's actually getting some play this season so far :D!!

Zee with Olivia Von Trashpanda is by far the best thing I've ever seen in my life, I love them sm

the besties,,,

i wish I was Emma in the scene where Axel ran her finger by her chin threateningly (I'm shameless I know but come ON I WISH THAT ME!!!!!)

Nichelle getting to slay is the best thing ever lowkey???? I'm so proud of her!!

Chase getting kicked out second was the best, get dunked on loser!!!

Emma has also been returned to my good graces for dunking on him, thank you girly

Chris missing Scary Girl is so real, I miss her too man :<

and, well

I now know I never want to participate in would you rather challenge irl, those questions were horrid

except the one with Axel and poetry, that's a really nice character touch despite what it leads to

and...yeah! general thoughts dump. I'll still be making separate posts and I actually feel motivated to draw canon for once..back on my total drama bullshit? /pos

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pulpitude · 3 months

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giselle & her timeline ✦ edits by me

if you don't know who giselle is, she's a transfem version of aiden i came up with for a hss au (the same au my oc darlene comes from, she's also dating darlene) that i've had in mind for quite some time but never really posted about it

also, hope yall don't mind that i literally just used a dakota winchester base for her 😭 i did think about using aiden for upper face and dakota for lower face, but i feel like just this base would make a great f!aiden feel free to correct me if i'm wrong

(under the edits are a lot of semi drabble headcanons that i swear i didn't mean to write that long but i couldn't stop myself 😭)

book 2, winter formal outfit —

(here koh had been helping her physically transition all the way since book 1, but i'm starting from book 2 because that's when she comes out to her parents, meaning the winter formal is the first time she ever wears feminine clothing in public)

Giselle: "Everyone... hope I'm not late."

Darlene: [jaw drops] "Gi, you look like..."

Emma: "...a princess."

Myra: "A literal princess! Girl, you look like you're 5 seconds away from singing about letting it go." [Giselle rolls her eyes at Myra]

Michael: "Where'd you even get that dress from?"

Giselle: "Ah, this is my mom's prom dress from the 90s. She heard the words winter formal and begged me to try it on. I told her 'no, mom, it's fine, I can wear a suit if you want me to', since... you know, she's not used to seeing me in stuff like dresses and skirts yet, but she practically shoved me into this dress."

Darlene: [holding Giselle's hand] "She made the right choice."

book 3, spring casual appearance —

Giselle: "I... tried doing something with my hair. I hope it looks good, because I really don't want to go back to my old hair."

Caleb: "It does look good on you, but why the face?"

Giselle: [surprised] "What face?"

Maria: "You don't really look like you like it. Do you regret getting your hair done?"

Giselle: "No, it's not the hair..."

Emma: "Then what is it? Your clothes?"

Giselle: [nods] "Mmhm. My parents bought me these. I don't want to be ungrateful because... my parents support me enough to buy me clothes, and there are plenty of trans kids out there whose parents don't even want them in their home. But..."

Darlene: "But what?"

Giselle: "I don't like this style they're assigning me. It reminds me too much of my old self. And I don't just want to be the same person I was before, but in girl form."

Sydney: "Are you saying you'd like to try a new style?"

Darlene: "You'd look good in anything, Gi. No matter if it's girly, tomboyish, alternative, or even country girl."

Myra: [laughs] "Imagine that... 'Yeehaw, my captain!'"

Michael: "Myra, cowboys don't have captains. That's pirates."

Giselle: [giggles] "Ezra is trying to get me to join the dark side and turn into a grunge girl. I don't think I want that, really, but I do feel like I want to make a statement now... Is there an alternative style that's girlier but still eye catching, without any spikes or chains or ripped fishnets?"

Maria: "...I think there is."

book 3, prom outfit —

Cameron: "Giselle! Hey, wait up!"

Giselle: "Huh? Ah, hey there. What did you need?"

Cameron: "Nothing much, I just wanted to congratulate you."

Giselle: "Me...? What for?"

Cameron: "What not for? You're one of the strongest and most talented people I know. I might have known you for only three months, but I know this year has been a wild ride for you. You've been through pretty much everything and still manage to come out on top. I'm... really proud of you."

Ezra: "We all are."

Giselle: [blushes] "Oh, I... thank you... Normally I like compliments and-- and even look for them myself, but I just... don't know what to say for this one." [Cameron and Ezra laugh]

Cameron: "I have to say, you're kind of my role model. Not just because of all your talents in band, but also, I wish I could've figured myself out like you did. It took me years to figure out my identity, let alone how I wanted to present myself."

Giselle: "Speaking of that... I'm sorry, everyone, but I've been thinking about this for a while, and I... don't think I want to be in band anymore."

[everyone's jaw drops]

Myra: "What?! Girl, what's gotten into you?"

Giselle: "Don't get me wrong, I still love music! Who would I be if I didn't? But... composing, instruments, band, I want to leave all of that behind. I don't know if permanently... I hope not, but at least for now I want to focus on something else."

Ezra: "Something else as in what?"

Giselle: "...Promise you all won't laugh? [everyone nods] Well, as in... performance? Not performing as in playing songs, but performing as in--"

Cameron: "Dancing?"

Giselle: "Mmhm. When the year started, I was not only super insecure of myself but also an awful dancer, and Darlene helped me with both of those things. I want to try incorporating it into my life... for her and for myself."

summer break appearance —

Giselle: "Hey everyone! I brought popsicles."

Darlene: "Oh... my."

Sydney: "That is the most sparkly outfit I've ever seen you in."

Myra: "And also the most pink. I thought you didn't even like pink, what happened to you?"

Giselle: [shrugs] "Maybe I was just in the mood for something different. Remember spring quarter, when I told you all about wanting to find my style and all that? Well... I'm pretty sure I found it."

Emma: "You did? Please tell us all about it, Gi!"

Giselle: "So I'm reading about this fashion subculture that lets girls go all out. I'm talking super flashy clothes and hair, so many cute accessories, and their makeup is so pretty... they even have hangout spaces just for them!"

Sydney: "Really?"

Giselle: "Yeah, it's called gal... I can't believe I didn't know this existed before! Now I want to become one, and I'm not sure where to even start."

Michael: "Giselle, you're drooling."

Maria: "No, she's not."

Michael: "But she's about to be if no one stops her."

class act appearance —

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queen-dahlia · 1 year

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𝐆𝐢𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐯𝐨𝐧 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐧

𝗠𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝗥𝗼𝘂𝘁𝗲 𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟰 𝗣𝗿𝗲𝗺𝗶𝘂𝗺 𝗥𝗼𝗺𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗰

Mild spoilers from Leon's route

Note: Translation is not 100% accurate. Expect grammatical errors.

// : alternate translation | ⫘⫘ : flashback

Gilbert: "Good. You're alive."

Emma: "Lord… Gilbert?"

I couldn't believe what I was seeing before my eyes.

Inside the carriage that Prince Chevalier pushed me into, there is Lord Gilbert, as if it were a matter of course.

His complexion is better than the last time we parted, as if the disease had never existed in the first place.

Gilbert: "Hehe, I told you. I said I'd be there to witness the signing ceremony."

Gilbert: "I just wanted to surprise you."

Next to Lord Gilbert, Prince Chevalier looks out the window.

He doesn't seem to be questioning his presence here.

Gilbert: "That's strange... I thought you'd be more pleased."

Emma: "I'm sorry..."

Emma: "I was surprised."

(It's definitely Lord Gilbert.)

(I can't see anyone other than Lord Gilbert...)

More than the joy of seeing him, more than the joy of being there,

It was all I could do to push the fear and anxiety of the unknown behind my smile.

══════════════════

Gilbert: "It's been a long time. I wonder how long it's been since I've been in this room."

When we returned to the castle, Lord Gilbert was to be treated as a guest of honor of Obsidian.

(... If he is here now, it means he followed me right after I left Obsidian, right?)

(But the way he looked at me when we parted... it wasn't very likely that he could do that.)

(The reason why Lord Gilbert asked me to be his proxy Empress was because of his health condition.)

(There is no reason to force yourself to come to Rhodolite.)

Gilbert: "You've been quiet for a while now, haven't you?"

Emma: "Are you really... Lord Gilbert?"

Gilbert: "Yeah? That's a strange question, Little Bunny."

(His voice and his response are just like Lord Gilbert himself...)

It seems like he's an illusion, and I reach out to him.

But for some reason, he kept his distance.

Emma: "Lord Gilbert?"

Gilbert: "I'm just not in the mood today."

(. . . . . .)

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Gilbert: "I'm actually—"

Gilbert: "I'm cold, so I like to feel the warmth of people all the time."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

(… He is not Lord Gilbert.)

Closing the distance again, this time I grab his hand with a clear intention.

I was immediately shaken off, but that one moment was enough.

Emma: "Your hands are warm, right?"

Gilbert: ". . . . . ."

Emma: "Who are you?"

(Up close, they look alike but slightly different. ...They are different people who only look alike.)

Approaching the doorway, I keep my distance so that I can escape at any time.

That person, with a face similar to Lord Gilbert's, suddenly erases his refreshing smile…

He picked up a piece of cloth that was randomly placed on top of the sofas and wrapped it around himself.

(Oh…!)

The deeply hooded figure is familiar.

Emma: "Roderich…?"

Roderich: "That's right. I didn't expect you to notice me so quickly... I've been here." **

Roderich: "It's still impossible to deceive someone so close to him, and Prince Chevalier seemed to be aware of it..."

(… You mean he was aware of it and dared to close his eyes?)

I don't know what Prince Chevalier has in mind, but it may have something to do with "promises."

(I only noticed it because I had the opportunity to see Lord Gilbert up close.)

(I had never seen Roderich under the hood, but I didn't realize how much they looked alike like that.)

Not only did he look perfect, but his voice, speech, and behavior were also perfect.

It's not the kind of perfection that can be done overnight, and for some reason, that makes my heart palpitate.

Roderich: "I am here to escort you under the orders of Lord Gilbert."

Roderich: "… Please keep this a secret."

Emma: "I understand."

Emma: "But why is Roderich dressed as Lord Gilbert?"

Emma: "If you're here to escort me, you don't have to be dressed like Lord Gilbert..."

(No, no. Roderich's purpose may be to be my escort.)

(But what about Lord Gilbert?)

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Gilbert: "Because the king of a country that knows so much about deception and corruption..."

Gilbert: "My "ideal" is to trample down all the royal families that spread throughout the continent and free the people from the rule of power."

══════════════════

Clavis: "But as long as people are social creatures, power is bound to arise."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

(Lord Gilbert's ideal was going to take a long time to achieve.)

(Even if the structure of the continent can be destroyed, it does not mean that the whole purpose has been achieved.)

(Because there is no way that Lord Gilbert didn't think of that possibility...)

(. . . . . .)

Emma: "From the beginning..."

Emma: "Were you planning on switching places from the beginning?"

Emma: "To make it look like Lord Gilbert is still alive even after his death."

(So that "Lord Gilbert" can see the ideal that takes a long time to end.)

(And after you've seen it through, if Roderich stops disguising himself... there will be no real royalty.)

Roderich: ". . . . . ."

Roderich's expression is hidden by the hood and can't be seen well.

There was a pause, as if he were just slumped over and enduring something.

Roderich: "... Only the doctor and Lady Emma know about his low body temperature."

Roderich: "… There are very few who know who he is and look him in the eye when they talk to him."

Roderich: "I was confident that I could conceal all but a few things... or I should have been."

(I knew it...)

Roderich: "I was originally an orphan from a military facility hired because of my resemblance to Lord Gilbert."

Roderich: "I am the shadow and the future of him, who has been sickly and weak since he was a child."

Roderich: "It seems there was a case in a royal family in a certain country where a sickly child was replaced by a healthy child with a similar face…"

Roderich: "It is only a rumor, but Lord Gilbert used it as a reference to find himself."

(… Lord Gilbert is all prepared to die…)

(You don't do anything for a living…) // (You don't do anything to me for a living…)

Emma: "… Lord Gilbert..."

Emma: "He's alive, isn't he...?"

Roderich: ". . . . . ."

Emma: "… He's still alive, isn't he?"

(I'm afraid... to hear the answer.)

Roderich: "I am sorry. I don't know. All I know is that he was alive when I left..."

Roderich: "However, it is not my will to become "Lord Gilbert."

Roderich: "… It was an order."

(Uh…)

I am not so stupid that I don't understand the significance of taking out the clue that he had prepared for his own death at this point. **

(I told him I wanted him to live so much.)

Emma: "I… tried my best."

Emma: "Laughing at all the hostility…"

Emma: "Don't be intimidated by the many guns aimed at me…"

Emma: "I have a lot to report to Lord Gilbert."

Emma: "I have a lot of things I need him to hear."

Emma: "… I have many things to say to Lord Gilbert…"

Emma: "There is no substitute... for that."

(No matter how similar their faces are, Roderich is not Lord Gilbert.)

(I didn't want you to "see it through" this way…)

I sat down on the floor and covered my face with my hands.

Even though I had been prepared for this since I came to Rhodolite, when I was confronted with such a hopeless reality in which he did not feel the will to live, I could not muster up the strength.

(… Although I might annoy Roderich.)

(… I'll at least cry in my room. This is no good.)

As I encourage myself to get up, Roderich kneels down in front of me.

He didn't do anything… I could just feel the confusion and hesitation.

Roderich often tries to say the words, and then he gives an empty exhale.

After this was repeated several times, I finally heard a voice.

Roderich: "… I have served Lord Gilbert since childhood."

Roderich: "I am proud to say that I know him better than most of those alive today."

(Then I'm sure...)

(… It must be harder for Roderich than it is for me.)

Roderich: "Lord Gilbert was the kind of person who would pursue evil for the sake of the weak."

Roderich: "Everyone wishes for the misfortune of others, kicks them down, kills them, and laughs at them. In such a corrupt country, Lord Gilbert..."

Roderich: "He was the only member of the royal family who could understand, sympathize, and be angry at people's pain."

Roderich: "He has killed, trampled, and ruled over many... and those acts have never been for his own good."

Roderich: "No... Lord Gilbert will probably say 'for me' when I say this..."

Roderich: "That man remained on the side of those who seek help."

(I know. ...I know.)

(Because Lord Gilbert is "I who abandoned my ideals.")

Roderich: "For the first time, such a man plotted evil for himself."

Roderich: "I wanted to go to Rhodolite and meet you... That's what he said."

(That's... not what I heard.)

I looked up, hearing the information for the first time.

Roderich: "It must have been so annoying for Lady Emma to have her life so messed up."

Roderich: "I can't even excuse myself. Seen from the sidelines, his deeds were nothing but evil."

Roderich: "I wondered how he could go so far in tracking down a woman... and I even thought about that."

Roderich: "Still..."

The red eyes behind the hood shimmer, wet and overflowing with emotion.

Roderich: "… I'm so happy."

Roderich: "At the end of his life, he finally did something evil for himself..."

Roderich: "I'm glad that he had a little time for himself."

Roderich: "... I'm sorry... I can only really… apologize to Lady Emma..."

Roderich: "Both myself and the doctor... were happy."

(—… So even Prince Chevalier wouldn't know.)

(There is no way I can read... what Lord Gilbert is trying to do.)

Who would have imagined that the purpose of the trampling beast that shook the continent was to meet me?

(... Even if there are many secondary purposes, I can't believe that the core of it is just "I want to meet you...")

The "I want to see you" of the Obsidian royal family is unmistakably malicious. It is not possible for a person with good intentions to do so.

(... I don't like that.)

(It's too annoying for me to joke about...)

(I don't... hate you at all.)

(… It would still be easier to hate you.)

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Emma: "—Yes, it's time for your medicine."

I suddenly remembered the last night before I left Obsidian Castle.

I am still wearing the black dress that was given to me by Lord Gilbert,

I take the medicine Walter entrusted to me from the cabinet.

When I gave Lord Gilbert a vial of a color that I couldn't tell if it was good or bad for his health, his refreshing smile turned into a troubled look.

Gilbert: "You know, I'm not a child."

Emma: "But Walter asked me to do it. He asked me to keep an eye on you as much as possible during your medicine time."

Emma: "Lord Gilbert... I hear you don't drink sometimes?"

Gilbert: "You don't know how much malice is in his medicine, do you?"

Gilbert: "It's like a madman who thinks that the more bitter the better and who misunderstands the phrase "the better the medicine, the more bitter it tastes."

Gilbert: "He could have made a few improvements to make it a little easier to drink, but he didn't do that."

Gilbert: "I couldn't take it anymore, so I came up with the idea of a syringe that injects drugs directly into the body."

Gilbert: "Well, that's a completely different type of drug, and there aren't enough clinical trials to put it to practical use..."

(Syringe... You mean that instrument with the needle on it?)

(… That's one heck of an invention...)

Emma: "Is it so bitter that you hesitate to do something so… amazing?"

Gilbert: "Would you like to try it?"

Emma: "It makes no sense if I drink it. Good luck."

Gilbert: "… You could have shown me a little compassion."

Emma: "I feel sorry for Walter."

Gilbert: "Heh."

(…!)

His red eye narrowed, and a chill ran down my spine.

Instinctively, I backed away, and he grabbed me tightly by the wrist.

Gilbert: "If you insist, fine, I'll drink it."

Lord Gilbert, who deftly flicked off the lid of the bottle with one hand, took a sip without hesitation.

(For someone who said it was bitter, he seems to be very bold...)

The moment I watched his throat rise and fall, I felt my heart pounding in my chest,

My chin was lifted with his fingers, and before I had time to resist, my lips were sealed.

(… Uh…)

He forcefully twists his tongue and violates my mouth.

The more our tongues became entwined, the more I "understood."

Gilbert: "You see, it's bitter."

Lord Gilbert chuckles as he moves away from me with a last faint sound. **

Emma: "… It's outrageously…!"

Emma: "Bitter…"

(If this is what I get with a kiss, then Lord Gilbert must have taken the medicine directly...)

Gilbert: "Punishment for taking Walter's side."

Emma: "It would be better to improve the taste a little more so that people can drink it."

Gilbert: "I'm glad you understood. If this doesn't get through to you... well."

(I'll try not to ask too much about it.)

When I frown at the bitterness left in my mouth, the heat overlaps again.

This time, it was not a malicious kiss, just a meaningless touch.

He bites me when I bite him on the lips, strokes my tongue, bites me again...

Then my heart creaks and screams every time he kisses me naughtily, again and again.

Gilbert: "Hehe… I think it's fading."

(You never promise me anything in the future, but you leave me with this kind of unforgettable pain for the rest of my life.)

I bite Lord Gilbert's lip lightly to spite him, and he laughs softly.

Gilbert: "I think you're pretty much the same way."

Emma: "Whoa."

He picks me up, and we both fall straight onto the bed.

My body bounced, probably due to the good momentum, and the great villain shook his shoulders in a funny way.

Gilbert: "You're supposed to be mine now, but I wonder why."

Gilbert: "I've taken you away from your place, and there's no other place for you to go back to. You have to stay with me."

Gilbert: "And yet, I don't feel like I'm in control at all. If I don't control you, I don't feel safe, and I can't like you." // "Even so, I don't feel like I'm in control at all.. If I don't control you, I won't be able to feel at ease and fall in love with you."

(... I was right. Lord Gilbert was troublesome.)

Our foreheads are resting on each other, and his red eye looks into my face.

Emma: "… I think dominance is coercion. But I don't believe I was forced to come here."

Emma: "I may not have had a choice to make, but..."

Emma: "Even if there had been another way, I think I would have followed the same path."

(… If you want to call it "domination," that may be true…)

From the way Lord Gilbert is looking now, it seems that this is not an intentional situation.

Gilbert: "I don't like that."

Emma: "Why?"

Gilbert: "Because, if you don't tremble with fear and dread, you'll feel sorry for me, won't you?"

Gilbert: "You were better than you were in the beginning. …That’s the right trampling."

(… Then, after all, I am not under control.)

(No, I'd rather...)

Emma: "…Unexpectedly, I was the one who took control—"

Gilbert: "That's getting too carried away."

He bites my lip as if to blame me.

Gilbert: "How can I be controlled by someone else?"

Gilbert: "But I think my heart... doesn't want to listen to me."

(Even if he is a beast...)

(If the mind can't be controlled, it's a "person.")

Gilbert: "But I don't like it. I may have spoiled you too much."

Lord Gilbert rises up and covers me.

He repeatedly kissed me deeply, as if he were fooling me about something, while his cold fingertips ran down my back and the buttons of my dress popped.

Emma: "Oh... hmm!"

Words and bodies are dexterously enclosed, and my skin is exposed to the night air.

Fingers crept through the cracks in my dress, naughty fingers caressing my skin, and I turned my head away.

Emma: "Mmm... mmm!"

(No... absolutely, no...!)

I desperately resist, but his cold hand wraps around my swell without stopping its movement.

My whole body is hot, and my heart jumps like a rabbit.

My body reacts honestly without discomfort, but still...

I resisted as hard as I could with all the strength I could muster, and finally my lips were released.

Gilbert: "What?"

Emma: "What… It's not a "what," please stop!"

Gilbert: "Eh. I thought that was the atmosphere."

Emma: "I'll let you kiss me, but I won't give you my body!"

Gilbert: "You don't understand. You have two choices: be quiet or be forced to be quiet."

Emma: "For once, I will not give in."

I pulled my dress up to cover my exposed breasts and glared at him.

Emma: "I will not give it to you unless you promise me that you will live on, Lord Gilbert."

Gilbert: "That's all you do."

Emma: "It's important."

Gilbert: "… Hmm."

(You've gone this far, but you're not...)

His eyes flicker, and Lord Gilbert kisses me painfully.

As if the overlapping is still not quite enough, even though my lips are almost swollen.

(It hurts…)

(… It really hurts.)

Tears blurred at the corners of my eyes and fell down my cheeks.

Gilbert: "Do you cry a lot and get hurt? Because I love you like that."

Emma: "Ah…"

(... Why did I fall in love with such a bad person?)

I don't know how many times I've asked it, but it pierces my chest and turns into a never-ending pain.

It was the last night I spent with Lord Gilbert.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Both Roderich and I sobbed quietly.

The sadness that filled the room robbed us of our smiles.

(… But…)

Clenching my hands so tightly that my fingernails dig in, I look forward.

Emma: "It's... It's okay."

Emma: "I think he's probably struggling in secret with me and Roderich at this time." **

I know it is an optimistic thought, and I say it.

Roderich: "How can you be so sure?"

Emma: "Because, Lord Gilbert..."

Emma: "He is in love with me."

Roderich: ". . . . . ."

(Even if the trampling beast denies. …There's no way I got it wrong.)

Emma: "If he is in the middle of an evil deed, not for others but for himself..."

Emma: "He can't afford to die."

(I want you to dye me black until the end anyway.)

Roderich: "…There is no doubt."

A smile returns to Roderich's face.

I, too, smile without effort.

(Today's sunset… is also a sight to behold.)

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