#felt like i wrote it by scratching words into a chalkboard with my nails

[pips-fics]

ask: Just discovered your fics :) - I’m missing Chan hurt comfort, so maybe a fic where he overworked himself? Either getting dizzy in front of the members or panicking or getting really sick? Pretty open but just thought I’d throw it out there :)

ask: Hi! I know you’re on hiatus, and that’s totally ok :) but I didn’t want to forget to send so. Could you possibly write a fic where Chan gets really claustrophobic in a crowd and has to be calmed down by the members (maybe by Minho?)

——

chan had been overworking himself for weeks, and it was catching up to him.  all the members had begun checking in on him regularly - felix making sure he’d eaten at least one meal in the past 24 hours, jisung making sure his water bottle hadn’t been empty for too long.  seungmin helped make sure he got to his appointments on time.  hyunjin brought him snacks whenever he went to the dance studio and jeongin often brought him hot chocolate in the early morning hours, when he was inevitably still awake, working on tracks in the office.  changbin had developed a habit of attempting to force chan to bed earlier than that, usually finding him at around 3 am and on the verge of passing out.

chan thought he was managing alright.  

when he started to feel sick, he knew it was from lack of sleep, so he ignored it and pushed forward.  this meant spending the morning retching unproductively into the toilet and then eating a full lunch not long after.  they had a free day after their fan meeting, so if he needed rest, he could get it then.

the fan meeting was… more difficult to get through than chan had expected.  his head started pounding about halfway through, and focusing on fan’s faces became a real struggle.  he was surprised to find himself relieved when it was over.

as they shuffled out of the meeting room, chan grabbed minho’s shirt sleeve without thinking.  in an instant, minho spun around, and chan let go - he wasn’t sure why he’d done that in the first place, other than a vague but powerful fear that he’d somehow be left behind.  but minho seemed, somehow, to understand something that chan did not, even without words.  he dropped back a bit, letting chan walk slightly in front of him so that minho could place a hand on chan’s back.

for a moment, chan felt his heart’s erratic beating slow.  and then, as they stepped out into the main foyer of the mall, chaos broke loose.

there were so many people.  chan got jostled and, feeling weak already, was carried towards the center of it all.  it was all noise and sweat and a sort of unintentional violence caused by the large mass of people.  it was fear and powerlessness and sheer exhaustion - a headache and a too-fast, too-loud heartbeat, shaking hands and not enough oxygen to go around.

he felt like a kid lost in a mall.  chan had done that once - it hadn’t been horrible actually, since he’d been lucky and cute enough to find someone to help.  getting swept up like this, he felt as lost and uncertain and small as he’d been back then, except now he also found he couldn’t breathe at all.

——

after he’d lost chan to the crowd, minho spent a stunned half-second cursing himself out for being so careless.  then he started making use of his elbows and made his way into the mass of bodies before him.

he wasn’t gentle, exactly, but he got the job done.

he found chan somewhat near the center of the crowd, eyes wide, breathing heavy.  minho snarled at the people surrounding chan, crowding him in even more with every second, completely ignorant that he was having a full blown panic attack.  “move!”  minho growled, and people ebbed slightly away, very briefly.  it was enough.

he grabbed ahold of chan’s arm, wincing as the older boy startled, but not letting go.  upon recognizing him, chan’s eyes filled with tears and his knees gave out.  minho hoisted him back up.

“we need to get out of here!”  minho shouted, trying not to worry too much over how badly chan was shaking.  he glanced around, looking for the closest exit.  he saw their manager with a few of the others, but they were further away than minho was hoping.  he spun, and saw a small, relatively empty hallway, about 10 feet away.  that was their best shot.

“we should— oh, no,” minho grimaced.  when he looked back at chan, his skin was ashen and he had a hand clamped over his mouth.  “hyung!  can you walk?”

looking far from certain, chan nodded.  minho adjusted his grip to chan’s wrist instead of his arm, and tugged the older boy behind him.  he looked back to check on chan often, and caught him gagging a few times, and pushed people out of his way with a bit more force.

as soon as they make it to the hallway that minho had identified as their escape, chan falls to his hands and knees, throwing up.  the few people nearby scatter, and as he rubs chan’s back, minho silently wishes luck to anyone who enters the crowd.

it takes the better part of 5 minutes for chan to empty his stomach, and there’s a sizable mess when he’s done.  minho helps him stand on shaky legs and guides chan to a bathroom to let him clean up a bit and rinse out his mouth.  as he does so, minho puts the back of his hand to chan’s forehead.

“fever,” he comments.  chan makes a strangled noise, and for a second minho thinks he’ll be sick again.  but no, it turns out he’s just offended by facts.

“‘m not sick,” chan protests.  “claustrophobic.”

minho rolls his eyes.  “yes, that too, i think.  but you’re also sick and need to spend the rest of today and tomorrow resting.  you’ve been working too much recently.”

chan makes a valiant attempt at a scowl, but with his sweaty hair and plain-to-see exhaustion, he looks, at best, like a wet puppy begging to be let inside.

“let’s go outside and get some fresh air while we wait for the others, yeah?”

suddenly chan’s eyes widen and he nearly sprints out of the bathroom.  minho runs after him, catching his wrist just before he darts back into the crowd.

“are you crazy?  chan-hyung?  are you insane?  what the—”

“jisung— we have to— we have to find him, minho, let go!”

minho gives chan’s arm a good tug and grabs him by the shoulders once they’ve got some space between them and that terrifying, ever-growing mass of people.  “he’s fine,” minho says, panting.  “he’s with the others, i saw him earlier.  come on,  i’ll call hyunjin once we’re out and prove it to you.”

chan looks skeptical, but the fight has drained out of him, and he lets minho lead him to the doors.  it’s a very nice day, fortunately, and they find a grassy place under a tree to rest.  minho, as promised, calls hyunjin, who passes the phone to jisung, who is, unsurprisingly, just fine, as he assures both chan and minho on speaker phone.

after that, minho takes the phone back to share details on their location with their manager and chat with a few of the members very briefly.

“hyunjin said there’s some big sale or something - i don’t know,” minho reports after hanging up.  “they’re going to bring the car around and meet us here.”

chan doesn’t respond and minho glances at him to find that he’s already drifted into sleep.  minho feels something uncomfortable swirl in his chest - a mixture of relief, and fear, and frustration, and something else.  gratitude, maybe.  chan does so much for the rest of them, and minho can only scratch the surface of paying it back - but he will gladly play watchdog until they can get chan home, safe and sound.

——

feel free to send more asks!

[everlastingdreams]

BETA John Constantine x Reader : Heaven And Hell Chapter 2

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Summary:  The reader has been travelling alone for a while now, running from her demons. When soon she finds herself dealing with real ones. At first she appears to be just a psychic, but as time passes John finds himself wondering if that is all she is. The rising darkness is coming closer everyday, what part does she come to play ?

Notes:  This took so long and I am so sorry. I finally found a good direction for this story. 

Chapter: 2/?

Word count: 3053 words.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The events at the house still affected you, even after almost a month. It once again reminded you that not every monster is a paranormal being. There are monsters all around, looking like your regular friendly neighbour. Or as John had put it, not all monsters hide under beds. You wondered how he dealt with these kind of things, day in day out. It wasn't the thing you dreamed of doing when you were young, but this life choose you and you were stuck with it. You closed the book you were reading and clicked off the the small reading light before pulling the covers over your body as you laid down to sleep. Soon you felt yourself drifting off .

Scratching.

That's what you heard, you could see your living room as if you were watching it all play out through a camera. It got louder. A dark form crawled out from the shadows, an arm.. no.. it wasn't just that. Long sharp nails dragged across the wooden floors as the creatures crawled from the darkest shadows. Their eyes were like fire. They moved slowly at first, then faster, some crawled on the walls, some on the ceiling as they moved up the stairwell. They begane moving faster, like a shark nearing it's prey. And that's what you were, prey. Their nails scratched the walls as they got closer to your closed bedroom door. Then they screeched loudly, like nails being dragged down a chalkboard. You jolted up gasping for air, you pushed yourself backwards on your bed until your back hit the wall. You looked around your room frantically, and saw daylight stream into your room. It was just a dream. You brushed the hair from your face as it sticked to your skin. The air inside your room felt warm, almost hot. You were shaking as you stepped out of bed, you could use a glass of water after that. You put on some clothes before walking to the kitchen. You weren't to keen on walking through your house but you weren't a scared child anymore. Dreams are just that, dreams. You poured some water in a glass and took a big swig from it before you walked into your living room, you were checking your phone when you felt something beneath your bare feet. You swallowed as you sensed it. You moved your foot carefully, as if you had stepped into glass. You looked down at the floor and your breath quickened as panic rose inside of you. Along the wooden floor were long, deep, lines that splintered the wood. You didn't have to touch that to know what that meant. You didn't bother about how you looked as you grabbed your coat and bolted out the door in one swift move. You thanked the heavens that the key of your car and your wallet was in your jacket. You had no plan for something like this, but you knew one thing. Time to find an exorcist.

You had slept in a hotel since that night, happy that you didn't wake up to scratches on the floor again. You didn't know for certain if you could trust John Constantine, you only met him once, but he was the only one you knew that had knowledge of this sort of life. This 'gift'. And after that 'problem' at your place, you didn't mind to spend some time around a guy who knew how to deal with things like this. Maybe he meant what he said, maybe he could help you learn more about your powers. Or maybe, he couldn't be trusted. But it was either John Constantine or facing whatever was after you alone. There was just one little problem in your plan, you had no idea how to find him. Let alone contact him. Really regretting the fact that you didn't take his silly card now. It was early in the day but that didn't stop you from going to a bar, for a coffee anyway. You didn't feel like sleeping much after what happened. While drinking your coffee you noticed an article on the front of the newspaper that was laying on the bar. You pulled it closer and read about the priest who came back to life and is now performing miracles. You can't help but think this would be something Constantine would be interested in and then it hits you. The priest. You quickly pull out your phone and scroll through your contacts until you find the name of the priest that had send you to help Harold. Constantine had asked you for his number so he could tell the priest that next time he should be contacted as well. There was a fair chance that the priest had John's number. The phone rang a couple of times and then you heard it being picked up. “Hello ?” the man answered. “Father Jenkins ? This is y/n l/n.” You introduced yourself hoping he would actually remember you after everything that had happened. He sounded guildridden when he spoke again “Miss l/n, I was hoping to speak to you again. I wish to apologise-” “There's no need for apologies Father. None of us knew what Harold was capable off.” you interupted him quickly. He sighed “If the need would ever arise again, I will contact the man who helped you. I do not wish to see you harmed.” You felt a spark of hope at his words “Actually, that is why I am calling. I am trying to find Constantine, I was hoping you could tell me his number ?” “I have his number in my contact list. Shall I send it to you in a text message ? Is everything alright Miss l/n ?” he sounded worried, but you didn't want him to worry about you. “Yes, please. That would be great. And don't worry Father, it's nothing I can't handle.” brushing it off. “In that case, may God be with you, y/n. Always.” he told you and you gripped your phone thighter. “Goodbye, Father.” you ended the call. It was clear that it wasn't God who was with you after seeing the scratches in your floor. You finished your coffee and at then your phone beeped as a text popped up on the screen. The priest had sended John's number to you and know you were left to think how you would handle this. Last time you saw him you had told him you prefered not to go with him and now you would have to actually ask him for help. Sighing you called the number. It clicked to voicemail and you hung up immediately. This wasn't something that should go on a voicemail. You called again and after a few seconds, someone picked up. “Heeello?” the man on the other end sounded curious, but you were pretty sure that it wasn't John's voice. “Uhm.. hello. Sorry I might have called the wrong number, I am trying to reach a guy called John Constantine ?” You heard the man chuckle “Then you have the right number, Miss. But i'm afraid John's uh... unable to talk now. He's uh.. sleeping off the drinks from last night.” You raised a brow “Oh, I see. Look, I don't want to be rude but I really need to speak with him.” You could hear that the man was walking around as he spoke “Want to tell me who you are first ? Not many people have this number, and if they do call it's usually never a good thing.” he sounded wary of you and considering who John was you understood why. “My name is y/n l/n. I met him recently, he helped me.” you explained it to him. The man was silent for a second before he let out a chuckle “He told me about you.” he was silent again before continuing “Alright, look, I'll give you the address. If you are who you say you are then I'm sure he won't mind.” He gave you the address and you wrote it down on your phone “Thank you ! I think it is closeby. Is it okay if I come over ?” “Sure. No problem, Miss. The place you're looking for is an old Mill house.” he explained. A mill house ? That was definitely the last place you would expect to find an exorcist, perhaps that is why he chose the place. “Mill house. Got it. I'll be there soon. Thank you !” you quickly said. “See you soon.” he ended the call. It dawned on you that you didn't even ask his name but he sounded genuine. You hurried to your car and started on your journey there. It was a little further then you thought it was, you even had to stop and ask some locals where you could find it. To your suprise some of them didn't even know there was a Mill house in the town. You finally found the place and yup, it sure was a mill house. You had expected it to be bigger but were suprised to see that it was actually pretty small and looked very old. A man walked out the door as you parked your car. He awkwardly waved his hand as a greeting and you walked up to him. “Hi ! I'm -” He interupted you “y/n. I remember. Glad to see you found the place. I'm Chas Chandler, nice to meet you.” he held out his hand for you to shake. This confirmed that he was the one who had answered the call. You shook his hand “Thank you for meeting me.” “Are you kidding ? I'm the lucky one for meeting you. John told me all about the woman that saved his ass.” Chas looked like he was enjoying the thought of it. You smiled shyly “It was team work mostly.” “That's what he said to me as well. But John has a tendency to make the truth sound nicer then it usually is.” he let out an audible breath “But you're here to see John, he got out of the shower couple of minutes ago. Thought I would greet you while he made himself presentable. Or at least tries to. Come on, I'll take you to him.” he nodded towards the mill house and you followed him inside. The inside of the place looked so much bigger then you had expected it to be. You followed Chas down a spiral staircase, eyes wide at all the shelves filled with strange objects and symbols carved into the wood. You were staring at the objects when John walked into the room. Chas cleared his throat before speaking up "Hey, John ! Someone's here to see you." John was putting his tie on when you walked into what looked like the living area. "What are y-" he turned to look in Chas's direction and his eyes landed on you immediately. He looked like he didn't expect you and by the way Chas was grinning at him you were sure that that was exactly the case. "It's y/n, you know, the uh.. what did you call her again ? The pretty -" John's expression switched from suprised to caught in headlights in an instant. "Weren't you going to pick up your daughter, Chas ?" John quickly stopped him from finishing the sentence. “Right.” Chas snapped his fingers before turning in your direction. “I'll leave you to it then.” He mouthed a 'good luck' at you and you gave a discreet nod. Chas left you two alone in the mill house. John looked at you intrigued and put his hands in his pockets “Wasn't expecting you.” “Clearly. I thought Chas had told you I was coming here. I tried to call you.” you explained the situation. He grimaced at that “Looks like I'll need to lock my phone with a pin next time.” John stepped closer to you “Not that I'm complaining, luv. I was hoping I'd see you again.” he winked at you before a lopsided grin grew on his face. You snapped your eyes away and cleared your throat. Oh boy, it appeared that he thought you were here for a different reason. “I was trying to contact you. I've been thinking and maybe I was wrong to turn down your offer back at Harold's place. You were right, I could use someone to guide me, to teach me in these things.” John's smile faded when he understood why you were here and he turned away from you to grab himself a drink “You made the right choice back there.” He sat down on the couch and you followed him, you took a seat next to him and watched as he pulled out his lighter to fiddle with it “Take my advice. You don't want to know what's out there.”

“When we met, you looked disappointed when I turned down your offer and now you're telling me I made the right choice.. why is that, John ?” He sighed deeply before taking a swig of his drink “Had some time to think. Not long before I met you, I met a woman. Daughter of a friend that passed away. She could see the world for what it really was. It didn't take long for a demon to see what she was, and it started hunting her." He didn't look at you as he spoke, he just flicked his lighter open and close a couple of times "We had the demon trapped inside a seal of solomon, and he reminded me what happens to people who stay around me." He clicked the lighter shut. "Nothing good ?" you carefully guessed. "The woman had all her father's gifts, but not everyone is cut from the right cloth to do this thing." He looked at you "This isn't a reversible thing. You spend too much time around evil, it starts to follow you. It will always find you." the words were bitter. At this point you realised he was trying to make you understand, maybe even scare you away. But he didn't know that those things he feared would start hunting you, had already started. "She didn't want to do what her father did ?" You guessed. He nodded and gave a small smile, his eyes not able to hide his true emotion "And she made the right call. It will keep her safe." You looked at your hands in your lap "Maybe I shouldn't have been so reckless with my gift." You murmered to yourself. That snapped his attention to you "What's that, luv ?" You hadn't told him the reason you came to find him in the first place. "A couple of nights ago, I had a vision. I never had one like it. " you confessed and started to fidget with your jacket. "There were monsters in my house, dragging their nails across my floorboards and walls. I woke up before they got inside my bedroom." He thought about what you said for a moment "Your visions.. they can be tricky I'm sure. Perhaps the thing with Harry is still troubling you." You nodded but shook your head, wishing that was true "That's what I thought. But then I went downstairs.. there were long scratches on my floor, it had splintered the wood." John's whole body turned to you instantly at your words, his brows drew together for a second before he spoke hastly "Are you sure that wasn't a vision ?" You stood up "I'm sure of it. I just ran out of there right away. I have been trying to find you since then." John's shoulders heaved when he let out a breath, but you doubted it was out of relief "That was a good call." "Is something haunting me ? Something from Harold's house ?" You tried to keep your voice steady but the fear was still audible in your words. He looked at your voice, searching for the right word. "John? "You asked impatientely. "Maybe." He looked at your face "Yes, it sounds like it." He admitted reluctantly. You drew a breath and held your form. "Whatever it is, it's not coming from that house, y/n. There were no demons there." He said before he cursed to himself. He had said more then he intended to. Your eyes snapped up to him in shock "Did you just say 'demons' like actual..." He looked apologetic "Yes. The ones that crawl out of hell." You felt sick, demons.. really ? "What do they want with me ?" He dragged a hand over his chin "I don't know yet. But we'll find out, in the meantime you can stay here. This place will keep you safe. That and the fact that you've got an exorcist closeby." He looked at you hopefull. As if he was afraid that you would turn down a safe-haven against monsters. "That sounds like a good idea." You started. He smiled and put his hands in the pockets of his trousers again "On one condition." He closed his eyes, letting his chin rest against his chest as he let out an audible groan "which is ?" You smirked and crossed your arms "I don't want to be stuck in this place, I wan't to see what it's like." He looked at you "What what's like ?" He was warry of what you were asking. "What you do." You cleared it up. He narrowed his eyes at you as if he was trying to solve a puzzle, then his eyes widened "No ! No bloody way I'm taking you along." This wasn't going to be easy. "I could get hurt here too, you know. This place is filled with stuff that could be dangerous. Besides, you just said I would be safer if I stay close.” you reminded him. John drank the last of his drink in one go as he shook his head, cursing himself “Fine.” Your eyes lit up but then.. “But I have a one condition.” he turned to you again, his expression serious. “No contacting spirits unless I'm there with you. Like I said before, it's not only friendly ghosts hearing you.” He didn't have to remind you of that considering there were demons after you now “Deal.”

Reply to the post if you want me to add you to the taglist for this series. And feel free to let me know if you want to be removed from my taglist as well offcourse. 

Taglist: 

@bisexual-space-slut​  @venusofthehardsells @ buckybarnesthedoritoslut @deansinkdbitch​

[samwrights]

Still Into You - Punk!AU [Makki]

I can’t believe this is the beginning of the “end” of this series. Sorry for the long delay, I tend to go in and out with inspiration. Lyrics that are italicized are sung by you.

WARNINGS: Language, nicotine use

Word count: ~4k

Song Used: Still Into You by Paramore

A complimentary playlist can be found » here

Photo credit @scandeniall​ (I’m still so utterly in love with it, bb).

Everything about Makki’s public announcement of his breakup with Momoka was shocking, to say the least. For the most part, though, it seemed not many paid any mind save for the screams that erupted when he kissed you in front of everyone. New life surged within you well after that, giving you the fire and gumption to flow and sway through the energy of the last song—I Don’t Care if You’re Contagious. The song was a swanky creation of Kuroo’s that involved a lot of to and fro motions and lyrics, lines teetering back and forth between the two of you.

As fun and lively as it was, you were far from able to get your mind off of the song that came before it, the song that Makki had sang and wrote for you. Though it was unintentional, rather it was just a way that created fluidity within the set, it was time you returned the favor for the strawberry-brunette.

There was no little speech or segue-way into the song you’d written for Takahiro Hanamaki years ago, only the slow rolling crescendo of a symbol roll from Terushima before the poignant chime that queued your voice. With practiced performance and ease, the words flowed through your mind without concentration. It allowed your mind to wander, arriving at the question of: is this how Makki felt when he sang on stage to you?

And after all this time, I’m still into you.

Did he feel his heart thrumming in his chest out of anxiety and the rumbling of the drums? Did he constantly feel that he was on the verge of accidentally confessing? Did he feel the pride that washed over himself from hearing the audience cheer over a song that was so personal? You searched for the answer in his steel toned eyes.

I should be over all the butterflies

Did he ever think that the two of you would get to confess to each other in the form of art?

I’m into you

The look in his eyes said yes, said come closer. And without a moments hesitation, you sauntered over with microphone in hand, locking your eyes with his. The glassy, glazed over look that was typical of them was replaced with warmth, with longing. It’s raw and ready, and god damnit, you were going to take it.

Let them wonder how we got this far ‘Cause I don’t really need to wonder at all

A smile tightens over Takahiro’s face, causing a single cheekbone to protrude ever so slightly underneath his slightly sagging skin. His lanky form is relaxed, gaunt fingers slapping over the strings of his bass as he vibes to the rhythm. Minimally, he chimes in with his backing vocals but the serene look on his face unearths the peace he feels. It seems that he was just as lost in your own little world as he was.

And on the drive back to my house, I told you that I loved you

As much as you want to spend the entirety of this song gazing into Makki’s endearing eyes—something you’d already done enough of for the evening—you had a job to do. So rather than indulging yourself, you tiptoe and stretch over during the minuscule intermission between lines to place a kiss on your bassist’s cheek before sauntering off to interact with your other bandmates. There’s a slight swagger to your step, confidence fully fueling your strut as you belt every note.

We sang along to the start of forever

Even pre-confession, this song you’d written many years ago brought you to life. It’s vivacious and uplifting, even if you’d wrote it during the prime of your pining. If there could even be a definitive prime, considering you’d fallen fast and hard for Makki with only months in to knowing him.

And after all this time, I’m still into you

Now that you thought about the last twenty-four hours in a strange sense of peace, a part of you wondered how and when you’d even began falling for the bassist. Hanamaki had seen you at your most vulnerable moments—customer service tended to bring out the worst in you on occasion—when you’d been overwhelmed with menial problems. The strawberry-brunette had always been there to console you, encourage you were on the right path in whichever direction you were going. That even, maybe one day while you felt like you weren’t accomplishing enough, you were going to change the world.

Makki had actually told you that once on a blunt cruise. The proclamation had made you chuckle because, while he was applauding your tenacity and drive, he was also simultaneously rebuking your sometimes childlike wonder and tendencies. It was a game of cat and mouse in which you both loved to play since the very beginning, to the point where you wonder if you had loved Takahiro in a past life. That was the only explanation you had for the natural affection that bloomed between the two of you, even back then.

Some things just don’t make sense And one of those is you and I

No matter how much time you spent pondering a pinpoint in the timeline of when and how it all began, you realize it doesn’t matter in the slightest. What matters is the way his teeth are glistening in the spotlight as he bobs and moves along with his instrument. It’s lax yet prominent, a juxtaposition that is very much Takahiro Hanamaki. Very much your Hiro.

Not a day goes by that I’m not into you

And suddenly, as the song comes to closer and closer to the end, you’re swept and overwhelmed with a fondness for the three men that surrounded you on the stage. Not only for the man that grew up to be your person, but Tetsu and Yūji as well. These men, no matter what happened to the band in the future, were your best friends in the entire fucking planet. Considering you were only in your mid to late twenties, depending on your view, your life with them made up the better half of your cognitive years.

Regardless of the relationship between you and Hanamaki and the potential, unforeseeable future after this show, you needed to acknowledge that before moving forward. This could be the end of it all, this could be a make or break moment. But it seemed Makki acknowledges your sudden silent pessimism, that once severed mental connection stronger than ever tonight, by furrowing his brows. His two eyebrow rings move with the hairs as a pout comes to play.

Even on our worst nights

Takahiro was going to have words with you later, after the show. That much was obvious by the way he seems disgruntled at your onslaught of muted lack of perk. You should be happy, over the moon even, and you were. But recounting everything that you had in the last three minutes, you were slightly hesitant to finish this set. As if, once it were all over, Elixir was going to shatter as opposed to continuing being the remedy of your monotonous reality of life.

But there’s a look on Makki’s face, flooding his steely grey eyes that offers reassurance. It’s full of love and it makes you want to run over and kiss him, but your hand and mouth are a little occupied at the moment with a microphone. Instead, you saunter back over in his direction as you close out with your vocal range going higher and higher. The last word drops in intonation as the band ends their own respective parts, your fingers suddenly clutching at the thin fabric of the bassist’s shirt as you pulled him down for a kiss this time.

I’m still into you

“Thanks so much for hanging out with us tonight—we are Elixir if you’re just joining the party. Come visit us at our merch booth and support your local artists!” With the sound of the audience applauding, your bandmates began breaking down all the equipment to load it back up in the van while you were on merch duty. Running quickly over to your table, you began interacting and engaging with recognizable faces that were looking to grab stickers and shirts. Those recognizable faces melded into three very familiar ones—Momoka and the other two girlfriends—and each of them looking incredibly displeased to say the least.

“That was a cute little publicity stunt,” Momoka remarks. Her arms are folded over her chest as she stares you down. “Did you and Makki rehearse that?”

“Oh yeah. The last ten years were a rehearsal and last night we decided to cry over it and just use the stage to put on a show.” You rolled your eyes, fixing up a couple shirts that no longer laid neatly on the table because despite your sassy comeback, her presence was causing you to fidget. Not out of nerves, no. More so out of restraint because you were certain adrenaline was beginning to pump through your veins as a response to fight-or-flight. Momoka only sneers, hardening her glare as if to tell you she was standing her ground. “I don’t know what you want me to say to you—“

“I’d rather you say nothing,” she snapped, “just stay away from Takahiro.” The way his name rolls off her tongue sounds like nails on a chalkboard; like the sound of a worn down pencil eraser where the metal scratches along the paper.

“Bruh, how embarrassing. He broke up with you publicly in front of dozens of people and you’re still defending your non-existent relationship.” You probably shouldn’t have said that. No matter how good it felt to say it, you probably shouldn’t have done it, probably should have been the bigger person.

But with the way Momoka’s poise melts and her arms unfold are her hands are reaching for any part of you she can reach as she lunges towards you, you don’t really have time to ponder your invisible regret. Instead, all you can do is stagger backwards with hands splaying out behind you to brace yourself against the wall behind you. Though you expected to feel the plastic, painted bricks, you are instead met with a damp warmth that greets your skin. “She has a point, Momoka.”

The rich timbre of Makki’s voice sends your heart into erratic throbbing, completely disregarding the fact that the woman before you had quite literally attempted to lay a hand on you. Even in times of peril, nothing compared to the feelings that the man, your man, behind you brought to you. When you came to your senses, you relaxed ever so slightly at Makki’s gentle grip on your shoulders and the way the strawberry-brunette’s chin came to rest atop the crown of your head.

“Quit fucking around, Takahiro.” Momoka all but spits out, fingers clenching and grasping at nothing but air as if she were just itching to have something between her claws; preferably, probably, your throat.

“I meant what I said up there,” Hanamaki’s gaunt thumb gesture languidly towards the stage, all the while his chin remains rooted atop your head, grinding lovingly into your scalp. “We’re through.”

“And, what, you’re with [name] now?” The way Momoka tosses your name out like scrap paper into a waste basket forces the man behind you into the defensive. He’s no longer slouching or hunched over as he holds you protectively. Instead, Makki is standing at his full, six-foot height with his chin jutting out in pride as he nudges you behind him. The strawberry-brunette doesn’t say anything in response, merely prompts his now ex-girlfriend with his challenging pose. “You were literally making fun of her last night at practice and now—“

“She’s also been my best friend for the last ten years, we pick on each other and we picked each other. Now fuck off, Momoka.” Not wanting to entertain her further, Makki wraps an arm around snugly around your shoulder before all but dragging you outside and away from the merchandise table. Apparently it didn’t matter to him if anyone were there or not—he knew you well enough to know that you more than likely needed a nicotine break after the set and after the altercation. “Hey, I’m sorry about her. I probably should have thought out the breakup better than just deciding to do it on stage—“

“Takahiro,” you interrupt after sparking your cigarette and taking the first drag. Slouching as you stood, your free hand rested on your bicep, closing off the relaxed body language despite responding with, “it was perfect.” His shale stone eyes light up ever so slightly, almost refracting into an olive tone as he stands up straight while looking down at you.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” The two of you fall quiet once again, even as Hanamaki’s lanky arms come to encircle your closed off form. It’s a reassuring gesture, or at least you assume it’s meant to be, as his chin rests atop yours once again, smoking be damned.

“So we’re good?”

“As long as there is a ‘we’, I think so.” Your voice starts out muffled and subdued from being buried in his chest, crescendoing as Makki pulls back and tilts your chin up to look directly at you. That same thin hand guides you further until your bassist melts his lips against yours, pouring every ounce of love that he could into his kiss. Sandalwood and ink fill your nostrils as you pull him closer, tossing your forgotten cigarette onto the pavement to wind your fingers into his locks tickling the nape of his neck.

From an outsider perspective, the two of you probably looked a little trashy, for lack of better term, with the way you were clutching hungrily at each other; with the way the either refused to yield or break apart from the tongue-to-tongue contact. Like desperate lovers that hadn’t seen each other for long due to infidelity—spectators loved to write stories for situations like this.

And maybe one story teller got it right but that idea had gone completely over both of your heads because anyone else’s judgment at the moment just didn’t matter right now. The only thing that did matter was the way Makki held, trying to fuse every atom in both of your bodies as if to make up for lost time. “I love you so, so much, [name],” the strawberry-brunette pants out after needing to catch his breath, “more than anything.”

Those words became the catalyst to the start of forever.

Forever, included you not renewing the lease to your tiny duplex and Makki reciprocating the same action with his small studio in the city. Instead, the two of you took what savings you had and put money down on a cozy, three bedroom home together. It was slightly terrifying, making such a big decision together and not even just on the basis of the fresh relationship. If anything, the relationship was the least of your concerns.

Income was, of course, the biggest worry but, Makki being Makki, constantly reassured you that the two of you would without a doubt prosper. And his unfailing faith always seemed to pay off.

Takahiro, after slaving away as a journalist for the last few years, had finally risen through the ranks at the local alternative magazine he had been writing for and was promoted to editor-in-chief. The lazy guise that he wore daily never fooled you—you always knew he worked smart and hard and it was finally loud and proud for the world to see.

The same could be said for you, excelling in your field while simultaneously being approached to write songs for other artists you had the fortune to meet through Makki’s job. You could say there certainly were benefits to being his plus one to the many gala-type events he had to attend for work, and they most certainly benefitted you as an individual, as a couple, and as a band.

Elixir was still going strong, even with more years passing. The publicity stunt, as Momoka had deemed it, had been blasted through every social media platform known to man. Many found Makki’s public break up humiliating for his ex-girlfriend, but many comments defended the obvious love shared between the two of you on stage. Another vast majority of the comments laughed because whoever the ex-girlfriend was, she had to be shitty enough for that stunt to even be a plausible option for a break up — a treatment you didn’t necessarily agree with but that was your own personal opinion. Commenters also pointed out the dumbfounded look on your face and that you had absolutely no idea that any of that was going to happen.

The videos floating around online had helped the band’s fan base grow exponentially to the point where the four of you were performing at least once a month, as shitty as that may sound. The band that was originally started to just act as a friendly pasttime was growing beyond any of your wildest dreams.

Elixir was still going strong and rather than practicing and disturbing Terushima’s parents, the boys now all gathered in the Hanamaki household. Extra rooms were available for the boys if they needed to crash—namely Terushima who was still struggling to overcome his drug addiction. That was a fight for another day.

The band had bloomed exponentially to the point where Terushima, despite his personal demons, had reprised his role as makeshift manager, much like he had back in college when he was in charge of the underground distribution business the four of you had. In the group chat, he mentioned he had a big announcement for the band, which lead to the very moment of the four of you gathered in your backyard with drinks and respective smokes in hand.

“So? What’s this big news you got for us Teru?” Kuroo asks, languidly lounging in a wicker chair with one arm draped over the back. You and Makki were snuggled into a matching loveseat, a cigarette in your hand and a beer in his. Terushima had one hand around his cellphone, flicking through the screen while waving off Kuroo with his free one.

“Hold on, hold on—found it!” The blonde yells, almost startling you had none of you been used to the way his volume sporadically jumped at random intervals. He clears his throat before reading whatever news he gathered us to announce.

“Mr. Terushima, thank you for getting back to me promptly with your attached demo. We would like to arrange a meeting with all members of Elixir to discuss a recording deal. Please respond with a date and time the four of you are able to meet.

Sincerely,

Semi Eita, Eternal Records”

Only the crackling of the fire between all of you and the crickets chirping off in the suburban distance can be heard—everyone is silent.

“Is this—“ you start, but are immediately lost for words.

“Did we just get offered a record deal?” Kuroo finishes for you.

“We’re doing it, right?” Terushima’s eyes are hopeful and full of light and excitement, like this is the type of news he’d been waiting for. You looked between the guitarist and drummer sitting before you, both of whom looked more than eager, before you glanced upward to your left to gaze at Makki. Stone faced as ever, he was, but there was still that twinge of pride accompanied by the smallest tick of a grin.

“Any objections?” Your boyfriend looks back at the rest of the band. It was a silly question, all things considered, and Kuroo and Terushima made that obvious with the gnashing of their lips as they held back excited screams. “Babe?” The strawberry-brunette locks eyes with you once again, tightening his lax grip around your shoulder.

“As long as it’s all of us, I’ll always say yes.”

“Is that so?” Takahiro muses. The arm around you is removed as the man to your left rummages around the pocket of his old basketball shorts that he typically wore around the house to lounge in. His fingers are fumbling almost clumsily as he pulls back the lid of a small, black velvet box. “It may not be all of us, per se, but if you’ll always say yes, then will you marry me, right?” As he speaks, he sets down his beer bottle off to the side of the loveseat, clambering down to rest on one knee to better present the rose gold, diamond ring to you.

“I—w-what?” You splutter, darting back and forth between the ring and Takahiro’s face. When his face remained as stoic as ever, your eyes shifted between him and your two other friends who seemed just as dumbfounded as you did. Considering the information you gathered from your surroundings and just because that’s how Takahiro is, you figured he was being genuine. “For real?” The strawberry-brunette only nods, offering no further vocal context, and instead grabs your left hand and slips the jewelry onto your ring finger.

“Marry me.” His voice is firm and concrete with the slightest hint of trepidation, though it’s possible that it came from him pushing himself to stand at his full height. Hanamaki holds your hands in his, shale-stone eyes looking down at yours as he awaits his answer.

“I-I, yes? Yes!” In a flash, your arms wind around Makki’s neck, pulling him towards you tightly as his arms anchor around your waist and pull you as close to him as physically possible.

“I can’t believe that worked.” Kuroo deadpans from beside the two of you, shaking his head in amusement before coming over to clap both of your shoulders in congratulations. The statement alone clued you in on the fact that the boys did indeed know about the proposal.

“Makki’s always just full of surprises, ain't he?” Terushima adds, also stepping closer to offer his congrats. The blonde is grinning with his eyes shut as he fist bumps Makki when you broke apart from your embrace.

“Wait, but the record deal is real, right? Like that wasn’t planned out for Hiro’s proposal, was it?” You balk, hoping that the opportunity with Eternal Records was a genuine offer. Terushima gives a nod, opening his mouth to speak only to be cut off by Hanamaki.

“Come on, you know I actually didn’t plan anything.” The strawberry-brunette chimes, as if to try to reassure you that the record deal was in fact real while simultaneously drowning out Yūji’s spiel of how he would never make a fake announcement with such sensitive material.

“Then why’d you have a ring in your pocket?” Takahiro gives a nonchalant shrug, grabbing his once forgotten beer bottle off of the cobblestone floor of your patio and raising it to call a toast.

“Just had a feeling that tonight was gonna be the night. Besides, I’ve had it since before we bought the house.” The four of you clink bottles together in celebration—celebration of your band’s success and your apparent, sudden engagement. But while you’re cheering and drinking merrily, Hanamaki’s words are brewing and stewing in your brain as you mull them over.

“Babe, we’ve lived here for almost three years.” Takahiro tosses a languid, knowing grin at you. It was as if he were applauding you for finally putting the pieces together. “You’ve had a ring for that long? No joke?”

“No joke. I wanted to wait for the perfect moment.”

A perfect moment indeed.

A beautiful, mid-summer evening around a fire with your best friends and getting the announcement of a lifetime? There was no better time, was no better way than to start forever in the Hanamaki household. Yet, you acknowledge that his proposal could have started any time, any where. As long as it was Takahiro, as long as your best friends were there to enjoy the momentous occasion, you would have said yes because it was him.

[ A Part of Me  « Still Into You » In Bloom ]

And that is it for Makki’s route! I was asked to a couple spin-offs so those will (eventually) come about. Thank you all for sticking through this with me, I love and appreciate you all.

Taglist: @takingyouruwus​ @tamcitrus​ @norkinlove​

[chezforshire]

for the fictional kisses prompt, could you do number 12 with bubbline? sorry if this is not the right place too submit, i am new too tumblr and english is not my first language. either way have a lovely day! :)

You're doing good! And have a lovely day too!

(working under the arrangement marriage au cause im an idiot that wanted to do that instead of the easy way which was a kiss durin the war but whatever ig)

Her throat was in so much pain. Trying to speak felt like dragging her skin through concrete. Whatever noise that escaped her lips sounded like nails on chalkboard. This was a very miserable experience but she was determined to get through it.

She picked up a notebook that didn't have anything important and a farely new pen. She wrote down several phrases and words then ventured outside. She runs into Jake, one half of her personal knights, and when he greets her she's prepared by showing him the page she wrote "Good morning" down on.

Jake raised an eyebrow at her. She flipped to a different page that said "Sore throat." He made a small noise of understanding and nods at her with a smile. He offers to tell the kitchen staff to make something to sooth her throat and ask the clinic for some medicine. She nods and smiles in thanks.

"Oh and by the way, Mar-" he cuts himself off, seeing a maid wander in the hallway they were in to clean. "Her highness is in the study, having finished her workshop with the younger Banana Guards."

She raised an eyebrow at that. She doesnt remember asking her lover to conduct an audience with her guards. Jake merely shrugs at her with a sly smile. He bows to her slightly and takes his leave. She scrunches up her face in confusion and decides to merely ask her.

She finds Lady tending to some flowers by the stairs, and asks her to bring breakfast for herself and Marceline to the study and, after a moment's thought, asks her to procure some medicine as well. She was eternally glad that her friend could understand the indecipherable scratches that is her handwriting. She wasn't sure how long she would last if she had to slow her hand for others to understand he scrawl.

She slips into the study quietly and finds her lover lounging by an armchair. A soft smile comes onto her face as she makes her way to her.

Marceline cracks an eye open and returns her smile. She reached for her hand which she gladly held onto. The vampire pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles and tugged her to sit on her lap.

"Good morning, my sweet." She murmurs, nuzzling into her neck. She pulls the right page out and presents it to Marceline, tapping the woman for her to take notice of it.

She blinks and looks up at her. She pulls one of her hands in front of her and started making gestures. She tilted her head in question. "Ah, I shall teach it to you at a later date." She returns her hand around the candy golem and presses a soft kiss to her neck. "I assume you are ill. That is an unfortunate thing to wake up to."

She bobs her head in assent. She shrugs her shoulders a little, hoping to convey that she didn't see it as too much of a problem. She could communicate in other ways. Her day will not be deterred.

Their food arrived soon along with the medicine she asked for. They were placed on the low table in front of them, the servant bowing deeply to both of them before leaving. She picks up the cup of tea first and gladly takes several sips. It irritated her throat slightly, but she knew it would soothe whatever was ailling her.

She sees the apple float in from the corner of her eye. It floats towards them and lands in Marceline's palm. "If you don't mind," she murmured, "I shall accompany you throughout the day."

She absently nods. The company would be more than appreciated, it would be nice to complain to someone without having to write paragraphs to be understood.

They finished their breakfast in relative silence and spent some minutes relaxing in the room.

The day passed by and she realized why Marceline had decided to stay by her side. The vampire, swearing by her name to not have telepathy, knew precisely what she wanted to say to dignitaries and staff alike.

When she would accompany her on other days, she would stand several steps behind and interject only to make quips. But today, she stood by her side and spoke for her. She seemed to only need to glance at her then suddenly she would say the words Bonnibel was forming behind her lips.

She would rarely ask her to write dowm her words, usually only to ask for her permission for something or if she had said the right thing.

She was impressed by her and felt more than a little warm over it. Marceline showed little desire to meddle in official affairs, and yet she knew her wife so well that she could express almost exactly what she was thinking. It was such a nice feeling seeing well she knew her and how willing she was to help her in something she cared little for.

Halfway through the afternoon she had to pull her wife to a secluded room and wrap her arms tightly around her. Voice hoarse, she whispered "I love you so much, little bat." She tilts her head up and rasped "Kiss me?"

Marceline chuckles at her and kisses her cheek. She scrunches up her face, knowing full well Marceline knew what she meant. "Forgive me, love, but I have no desire to catch whatever it is you have. I quite like my voice and I know you feel the same." Marceline gives her a sly smile and she lightly flicks her pointed ear in retaliation.

Marceline smiles widely at her, all fangs and happiness. "Should this pass by tomorrow, I assure you of affection to the point you will push me away." She scoffs at her, knowing very well she was serious. Her smile softens and she nuzzles her cheek. "As it is, you are ill and hardly in any shape to speak. So allow me to be your voice, assuming I have been doing well in that task."

That last part was whispered, the vampire genuinely worried over not doing well enough. She shakes her head and pulls her closer. "Doing good," she forced out. "Thank you, love."

She feels Marceline release a tension she didn't realize she was carrying. She felt her lips curl into a smile against her cheek. "Fantastic. This is no problem, dear." She pulls away and gently taps the candy golem's nose. "I love you too, now please no more speaking."

She grabs her hand and guides her out of the room. She was very glad her wife knew her so well. She hoped this would pass soon, she wanted to sing her praises. If it doesnt, well she knows other ways to thank her that would have the added bonus of hearing her wife's beautiful voice.

[toloveawarlord]

Tomorrow

To the anon that sent in the Luka request, I will still be writing the request but I wrote this a while ago as part of the Kyle Ash Mental Health Series but hesitated to post it until now. ❤

The rooftop of the Civic Center has the most wonderful view in this warm summer evening. The rosebushes full of colorful flowers painted brilliant red and white. A crescent moon smiled down upon the residents. A picturesque scene.

But she saw none of it. It presented in tones of gray, darkened in her mind. The roses taunted her, holding more beauty that she possibly could. The moon smiled, yes, but only to bear its teeth and whisper behind her back. The scattered citizens light chatter scratched against her ears, like nails on a chalkboard. An ever present sound of isolation.

It's not you who people stop to see your beauty.

It's not you who is smiled at without malice hidden behind it.

It's not you who is invited to the lively gathering of loved ones.

You are alone.

The wind she barely felt carried all those words around her, whipping them against her skin. The silence of the night louder than every before.

In the midst of her choas, a invitation snuck its way in. The pavement below called out to her.

We will catch you.

Do not worry.

We will surely catch you.

Words crawled over her skin like the warmth of the sun. It would be easy. Tip forward a bit futher. The deceiving promise. Music to her ears. The release that she believed that she needed.

"What of tomorrow?" Kyle asked, hiding well the panic in his eyes, but not in his voice. It hard been quite hard to find her after she snuck out of headquaters.

"What?" A cracked voice answered, surely not one she was familiar with.

Kyle stepped closer, hands in his pockets to show that he would not force her down from the ledge. "You're hurting, and afraid. Backed against a corner with no way out in sight. So follow my voice and think of tomorrow."

Tomorrow. When was last time she hadn't been simply trying to wade through the muck of the present day?

"Tomorrow is when you're going to feed the Creeks with Edgar isn't it?" Kyle tried to remind her of the plans that she had agreed to, things that excited her.

Memories she had thought lost began to push through her foggy mind. Her life hadn't always been this way. She had enjoyed living before. "And the day after?"

Kyle held out his hand to her. "Focus on tomorrow. Just tomorrow. Find one thing worth getting up for tomorrow, for being here in Cradle. Hold onto it as tightly as you can."

A lifeline being cast out to a sea that had all but swallowed her up. One thing. One simple thing. She didn't know what lay on the other side of tomorrow. And maybe that was okay.

If only for one more day.

[the-girl-in-the-band-tshirt]

Captain Swan Secret Santa 2018

Hello, hello, @downeystarkjr! It is I, your Captain Swan secret Santa New Year’s baby! And with that, let me apologize profusely for how late this is. *facepalm*

I tried so hard to plot out a story based on what you said you wanted to see, but having no exposure to Zorro (*hides*), that was tough. And I just generally couldn’t come up with something to match your wishes that would satisfy. But then - BUT THEN you mentioned one of your favorite movies is 10 Things I Hate About You, and it just so happens that’s one of my all-time favorite movies AND I’ve been dying to write Captain Swan into that movie for a while now. So I started writing. And I kept writing. And I wrote some more. And this @cssecretsanta2k18 fic got much longer than I planned it to be. Oh, and there are a few details in there catered to you, and I hope those make you smile. :)

So it’s been drafted for a bit now, but the editing process is proving slower. My beta is my lovely friend @ohmakemeahercules, who I have to thank here because, dang, she’s put up with a lot from me. And she’s fabulous! And this fic would absolutely not be near as readable as it is now without her (and it’s not even done being edited yet - she’s that amazing!). And we will continue working on this thing to give you the best gift it can be. However, I didn’t want you to have to wait any longer, so here’s a partially edited story for you! When it is fully edited, I’ll make another post on here, and I’ll also post it to ao3 at that point. Until then, I hope I can keep talking to you! You and I, apparently, have a lot in common, and I’d love to get to know you better! 

I hope you’re not too disappointed it’s not exactly what you asked for. Here goes...

“What did everyone think of The Sun Also Rises?” Mr. Pendragon crossed his arms and leaned against the chalkboard as he scanned his classroom for any sign of intellectual thought.

“I loved it. It was so romantic.” That was Ashley, a sweet girl who worked two jobs after school to help her family make ends meet. But she treated Hemingway like a fairytale.

“Romantic?” Scoffed Emma Swan, the opinionated and sarcastic girl seated in the back row. Mr. Pendragon squeezed his eyes shut, already feeling a headache blooming. “Hemingway was an abusive alcoholic misogynist who squandered half his life hanging around Picasso trying to nail his leftovers.”

Nearly every student in the room rolled their eyes at her.

“As opposed to a bitter, self-righteous bitch who has no friends?” Mr. Pendragon rolled his eyes this time as Neal Gold, the rich kid bully, chimed in.

“Pipe down, Gold,” the teacher stepped in.

Emma Swan fumed at Neal from her seat before turning back to face the front of the room. “I guess in this society being male and an asshole makes you worthy of our time. What about Sylvia Plath or Charlotte Bronte or Simone de Beauvoir?”

Suddenly, everyone in the class jerked their heads toward the door as Killian Jones walked in, leather jacket despite the warm temperature outside, no books, and late as usual. He scratched behind his ear as he looked around the classroom.

“What did I miss?” He asked in a British accent.

Before anyone else could answer, Emma spoke up. “Just the oppressive patriarchal values that dictate our education.”

Killian nodded, muttering a, “good,” before leaving the room. Mr. Pendragon tried to call after him, but it was no use.

Turning back to the class, Mr. Pendragon addressed Emma. “Ms. Swan, I want to thank you for your point of view.” He paused as Emma sent a smirk Neal’s way. Just when she felt validated, he added, “I know how difficult it must be for you to overcome all those years of upper middle-class suburban oppression. It must be tough.” At that, Emma slumped back into her seat, a scowl returning to her face.

“Anything else?”

“Yeah,” Mr. Pendragon headed to the front of the classroom. “Go to the office. I don’t need to deal with this right now.”

“Mr. Pendragon! What?!”

“You heard me.”

Emma huffed out a breath as she left the room, but not before knocking Neal on the side of his head to stop his snickering.

“Emma Blanchard,” Ms. Perky, the guidance counselor, addressed the student walking into her office, “why am I not surprised to see you again?”

“It's Swan. Emma Swan. I'm adopted.” She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes, bored with the routine. Ms. Perky made a disapproving noise and proceeded to type on her computer, not even looking Emma's way.

“Your father is a Blanchard. Your sister is a Blanchard. It says ‘Blanchard’ on the roster and in the system,” Ms. Perky reminded Emma.

“And I'm a Swan.”

Ms. Perky paused, grinning to herself as she glanced between her mug and Emma, who raised her eyebrows waiting for an explanation. “Swan,” she pointed to her swan-printed mug. “Swan,” she pointed at Emma while laughing out loud. Emma nodded overdramatically as she waited for the guidance counselor to get down to business. “So I hear you were terrorizing Mr. Pendragon’s class again.”

“Expressing my opinion is not a terrorist action.”

“The point is people see you as somewhat-”

“Tempestuous?”

“‘Heinous bitch’ is the term used most often. “You might want to work on that.”

Emma’s lips slightly upturned. She was almost seemed impressed with herself, despite the unflattering connotation.

Ms. Perky went back to typing as Emma waited for her dismissal. The counselor sighed and lowered her glasses before a tired “thank you” was uttered.”

Emma grabbed her backpack from the floor. She faced Ms. Perky and said, with extreme sarcasm,  “as always, thank you for your excellent guidance.” She exited the room without another word.

That afternoon,  Emma and her best friend, Lily, waited in Emma’s car for her younger sister, Mary Margaret. However, Mary Margaret was more interested in catching the eye of Neal Gold, the most popular guy in senior year. She and her best friend, Tamara, walked by him for the fourth time that afternoon trying to get noticed. Fourth time was the charm, as Neal called out, “looking good, ladies.” Tamara sent Neal a predatory grin before leading Mary Margaret away from the boy before she started giggling and making a fool of herself in front of him.

“They’re out of reach, even for you, Gold.” Felix, another senior, said.

Neal glared at his friend. “No one’s out of reach for me.”

“You want to put money on that?”

Neal shook his head, still watching the girls walk away. “Money I’ve got. This I’m going to do for fun.”

Meanwhile, Neal wasn’t the only guy with his eye on Mary Margaret.

“Who’s that guy?” David Nolan, a new kid to Storybrooke High, asked his tour guide, August Booth.

“Neal Gold. He’s rich. He’s a model. And he’s a moron.”

“A model?” To be honest, Neal didn’t strike David as a model.

“Eh,” August shrugged. “Mostly regional stuff.  But he’s rumored to have a tube sock ad coming out.”

David gave August a look that screamed, “really?,” to which August just nodded. They both laughed.

“Man, just look at her. Is she always so-”

“Clueless? Airheaded? Into herself?” In truth, August didn’t really know Mary Margaret well, but she was easily the most popular girl in the school.

“Don’t say that about her. There’s more to her than you think. I mean, look at the way she smiles. And look at her eyes, man. She’s totally pure. You’re missing what’s there.”

“No, David. What’s there is a bratty little princess wearing a strategically planned sundress to make guys like us realize we can never touch her, and guys like Neal realize they want to. We will spend the rest of our lives not being able to have girls like her. Just move on, dude.”

David crossed his arms and took a step back from August. “No. You’re wrong about her.”

August put his hands up in surrender. “Fine. I’m wrong. You want to take a shot? Be my guest. She’s actually looking for a French tutor.”

David’s entire face lit up. “Seriously? That’s perfect!”

“Do you speak French?”

“No.” He stared dreamily at Mary Margaret, who was waving goodbye to her friend. “But I will.”

On her way to her sister’s car, Mary Margaret was stopped in her tracks by Neal Gold pulling up in his convertible.

“Hey. Would you and your friend like a ride?”

Mary Margaret barely waited to breathe before she called out to Tamara, who ran over and got in Neal’s car right behind her friend.

Emma and Lily, who had watched the drama unfold, rolled their eyes simultaneously.

“That’s a charming new development,” Lily said sarcastically.

Scrunching her face in disgust, Emma added, “it’s pathetic.” She buckled her seatbelt and prepared to drive just the two of them. Right when she was about to back out, Emma had to slam the breaks because of a stalled motorcycle directly behind her car. “Hey,” she yelled, “remove head from ass, then drive!”

The motorcyclist scooted away sans motor so Emma could pull out. She flipped him off and sped out of the parking lot.

David Nolan came running up to the rider - August. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Just a minor encounter with the shrew, your girlfriend’s sister.”  

“That’s Mary Margaret’s sister?” David was in a state of disbelief. 

August nodded, “adopted.” With that, he once again got his motorcycle working. Sending David a knowing smile, he put on his helmet and rode off.

Emma was happily lying on the living room couch reading a book when her adoptive father arrived home.

“Hello, Emma. Make anyone cry today?”

“Sadly, no, but it’s only 4:30.”

Leo Blanchard’s smile only grew as Mary Margaret came inside and greeted her father.

“Hi, Daddy.” She kissed his cheek and moved Emma’s feet so she could sit on the couch.

“Hello, precious.”

“And where have you been?” Emma bookmarked her page and closed the book, expecting some amusement as her father learns that her sister was in a car with Neal Gold.

“Nowhere.” She gave Emma a pleading look.

Emma promptly ignored her sister. “Ask Mary Margaret who drove her home.”

Leo waited for an answer from his biological daughter.

“Now, don’t get upset, but there’s this boy.” Mary Margaret couldn’t help grinning at the thought of a boy liking her.

“Who’s a flaming imbecile,” Emma chimed in.

“And I think he might ask me-”

“Please. I think I know what he’s going to ask you. And I think I know the answer: No. 1, it’s always no. What are the house rules? No. 1, no dating till you graduate. No. 2, no dating till you graduate. That’s it.”

“That’s so unfair! I’m the only girl in school who’s not dating.” She put on the puppy-dog face.

“No, you’re not. Your sister doesn’t date.”

Emma smiled proudly. “And I don’t intend to.”

“And why is that again?” Leo turned to his adopted daughter, beaming smile on his face.

“Have you seen the unwashed miscreants that go to that school?” Emma could actually see the moment a new idea sparked in her father’s brain.

“Okay. You’re unhappy with the old rule - fine. Old rule out. New rule in: Mary Margaret can date-” Mary Margaret squealed with delight; Emma gasped at the unfairness. Leo pointed at Emma, “-when she does.”

“So I was thinking.” David Nolan sat across from Mary Margaret Blanchard at a library table.

“Yeah?”

“Well, there’s no better way to learn a language than by doing, right?” She looked confused. “What about French food? We could eat some, you know, together? Saturday night?”

“That’s so cute! You’re asking me out.” Mary Margaret’s voice got dangerously high-pitched before her delight switched to disappointment.

David watched her emotions play out on her face. “Oh, I mean, I know your dad doesn’t let you date, but I thought maybe if it was for French class-”

“Oh, wait a minute!” She was smiling again. “My dad just came up with a new rule. I can date if my sister does.”

David’s face lit up.

“Don’t get too excited, David. My sister is pretty much incapable of human interaction nowadays.”

“Well, I’m sure that there are lots of guys who wouldn’t mind going out with a difficult woman,” he sounded unsure, but he was determined.

“You really think you could find someone extreme enough to date her?”

“Yeah. Why not?”

Mary Margaret reached out and touched David’s arm. “You’d do that for me?”

“Absolutely.”

After a long and fruitless search - apparently Emma Swan’s reputation precedes her - David knew he had the right guy in biology as he watched Killian Jones hack away at his dissection frog rather than delicately cut it.

“Hey, what about him?” David whispered to August, pointing at Killian.

“No, no.  Don’t look at him, okay? He's a criminal.” August slapped David’s arm down from pointing at Killian and avoided even glancing in that direction.

David watched as Killian took out a cigarette from his leather jacket pocket and lit it using his Bunsen burner. He almost got around to smoking it, but his lab partner grabbed it and put it out. Obviously frustrated, he rested his head on one of his arms that was on the lab table and brooded. Abandoning the assignment altogether, he passed his right hand through the Bunsen burner’s flame on and off. As David continued to watch Killian, he knew had found the perfect guy for Emma.

“How do we get him to date Emma?” August looked at his friend, who was staring at Killian Jones from across the cafeteria. He didn’t think dealing with Killian Jones was a great idea, but David was convinced.

“I don’t know. We could pay him, except that we don’t have any money.” David slumped in his seat, deflated at the idea of not being able to take Mary Margaret out.

“Yeah. Well, what we need is a backer.” David sat up a little straighter. “You know, someone with money who’s stupid.” David followed August’s gaze to the popular table, where Neal Gold was laughing obnoxiously loudly with his posse. August turned to David, nodding. “I got this.” With that, August walked over to Neal’s table and took an empty chair, pretending to laugh to blend in.

“Are you lost?” Neal asked August.

“I just came by to chat,” August said confidently. David couldn’t believe August wanted to work with the competition.

“We don’t chat.”

“Actually, I thought that I'd run an idea by you, just to see if you're interested.”

Neal interrupted, “I’m not.”

“You want Mary Margaret, right?” Now August had Neal’s attention. “She can't go out with you because her sister is a heinous bitch who growls if you stare too long. What I think you need to do is hire someone who doesn’t scare so easily, tame the beast, so to speak.” August turned his attention to Killian, expecting Neal to follow. He did. “Seems like a solid investment, right?”

Neal narrowed his eyes. “What’s in it for you?”

“Hey. I’m walking down the hall and say hello to you, you say hello to me. Or at least maybe you don’t treat me and my friend like crap all the time.”

“Alright. I get it.” August nodded, and Neal nodded in return - an agreement - before telling August to leave. “We’re done now.” August got up and returned to his seat next to David.

“What are you doing getting him involved?”

“Relax. We’ll let him think he’s calling the shots, but you’ll be the one spending time with Mary Margaret while he sets everything up.”

“Okay. That’s not a bad idea, actually.” David was so ready to take out the girl of his dreams.

Killian Jones sat with his friend Will Scarlet. They were smoking on the bench on the sideline of the soccer field. Killian steeled his features, abruptly ceasing his laughter over something Will had said, as none other than Neal Gold approached the bench. Killian said nothing, hoping Neal would get bored and leave. No such luck.

“Hey. How ya doing?”

Killian put his cigarette between his teeth. “Can I help you?”

“See that girl?” Neal was pointing at one of the girls playing soccer, her long blond hair pulled up in a ponytail as she fought one of the other players for the ball.

He took the cigarette from his mouth. “I see her.” He kept watching her, somehow compelled not to look away.

“That’s Emma Swan. I want you to go out with her.” Neal was grinning smugly when Killian turned his attention back to him.

“Yeah, sure, Sparky.” Killian looked at Will and the two laughed. Killian returned the cigarette to his mouth for a moment before removing it and throwing it down on the ground in front of him.

“Look; I can’t take out her sister until Emma starts dating. You see, their dad’s insane. He’s got this rule where the girls-”

Killian put a hand up, stopping Neal’s jabbering. “That’s a touching story. It really is. Also not my problem.”

“Would you be willing to make it your problem if I provide generous compensation?” Neal waggled his eyebrows, still grinning.

Killian narrowed his eyes just barely. “You’re going to pay me to take out some lass?” Neal’s grin grew as he gave Killian a single nod. “How much?” Killian could use the money, and there are worse ways to earn money than spending a night with a pretty girl.

“Twenty bucks.”

The three guys turned their attention back to the field to watch Emma. Killian crossed his arms and turned back to Neal after she violently body checked another player.

Neal sighed. “Fine. Thirty.”

Killian held up his index finger and shook it. “Well, let’s think about this.  We go to the movies - that’s, say, 20 bucks. I get gas for my car, we get popcorn - that’s 60. And if she has a sweet tooth, we’re looking at 75 bucks.”

“I’m not negotiating this. Take it or leave it.”

Killian shrugged. “Fifty bucks and we’ve got a deal.” He held out his hand to Neal, and this time, he was the one wiggling his eyebrows. Neal sighed as he pulled a $50 bill from his wallet, placing it in Killian’s outstretched hand. Pocketing the cash, he waved to Neal and said good-bye to Will as he made himself comfortable on the concrete bench to watch the rest of practice.

As soon as the coach dismissed the soccer team, Killian stood up, shoved his hands into his pockets, and prepared himself to approach Emma Swan. As she packed some things into her equipment bag, Killian came up behind her.

“Hey there, love. How are you this fine afternoon?”

Emma swung around at his voice, clearly startled, though refusing to let him know it. “First, not your love. Second, sweating like a pig, actually. And yourself?”

“Now there’s a way to get a guy’s attention.”

She rolled her eyes. “My mission in life.” Her eyes narrowed when Killian didn’t walk away. She threw her bag over her shoulder then crossed her arms. “But apparently I’ve gotten your attention, so, you see, it worked.” Emma started off back to the locker room to get the rest of her stuff so she could get home and shower. She did not expect him to follow her.

“Pick you up Friday, then?”

She swung around to face him once again. “Oh, right. Friday. Yeah, sure.”

He lowered his voice, “I’ll take you places you’ve never been before.”

“Like the alley behind the drugstore on Main Street? Do you even know my name, jackass?”

“I know a lot more than you think.”

“Doubtful. Very doubtful.”

“You’re something of an open book.” She stuttered in her movement to walk away. There was something in his face that told her he wasn’t lying. But if he thought he knew her, he had another thing coming. After taking another moment to scan her suitor, she turned around and walked inside, not letting him call after her or follow.

Alone on the field, Killian actually smiled as he said the only two words coming to mind at that moment, “bloody hell.”

Later that night, Emma was brushing her teeth before bed when her sister came into the bathroom for her nightly routine.

“Have you ever considered a new look? I mean, seriously, you could have some definite potential buried under all that hostility.” Emma stilled the hand holding her toothbrush and stared at her sister, who looked entirely unfazed.

“I’m not hostile. I’m annoyed.”

“Why don’t you try being nice? I know you are. But people at school wouldn’t know what to think.”

“You forget that I don’t care what people think. Stopped caring ages ago.”

Mary Margaret turned to Emma and put a hand on her shoulder. “You do care.”

Emma shook her head and spit the toothpaste out of her mouth. “No, I don’t. And you don’t always have to be who they want you to be. You know that?”

“I happen to enjoy being liked by people.”

Emma rinsed her toothbrush before looking back at her sister. “Wait, where’d you get that necklace?”

“It’s Mom’s,” Mary Margaret squeaked out.

Emma couldn’t believe this. Only three years after their mother’s death and Mary Margaret thought she could just take her things. “And you’ve been hiding it for three years?”

“No. Dad found it in a drawer last week.”

“And you’re wearing it now? Is that going to be a normal thing?”

“It’s not like she’s going to wear it. And she always said she thought it would look good on me.”

Emma shook her head and felt the tears threatening to spill. “Trust me,” she spat out, “it doesn’t.”

With bags of food in hand, Emma emerged from the grocery store to find Killian Jones leaning against her car.

“This is quite the vessel you captain here, Swan.”

She rested the bags on the sidewalk, but she still gripped the handles. “Are you following me?”

“I was at Marco’s. Saw your car - hard to miss, that yellow Bug. I came over to say hi.”

“Hi.” She picked up her groceries and moved to put them in her car. Killian kept a hand on the door, stopping her from opening it.

“Not a big talker?”

“Depends on the topic. Hearing people mock my car doesn’t really whip me into a verbal frenzy.”

Killian stared at her like he was putting together a puzzle, trying to figure her out. His voice was high-pitched with curiosity as he asked, “you’re not afraid of me, are you?”

“Afraid of you?” She managed to get her door open and shoved her bags in the car before turning back around to face her stalker. “Why would I be afraid of you?”

He shrugged. “Most people are.”

“I’m not.”

“Well, maybe you’re not afraid of me.  But I’m sure you’ve thought about me naked.” He gave her a knowing wink. She thought it was absolutely obnoxious.

She feigned surprise. “Am I that transparent?” He chuckled as she wedged herself into her car. Putting his hands up in mock innocence, Killian backed up onto the sidewalk as Emma started to pull away. Of course, Neal Gold parked his show-off classic car in the road directly behind her. “What is it, asshole day?” She muttered to herself. To Neal, who was walking into his father’s pawn shop, she yelled, “hey, do you mind?”

He yelled back, “no, not at all,” before walking into the shop and slamming the door behind him.

Fed up, Emma backed straight out and into Neal’s car, pushing it until it was out of the way. Her car may be old, but it was built better than his rich-kid car. She started to pull out of the parking lot, flipping Neal off as he came running out of the store.

“What the hell, bitch?!”

“Oops!” She laughed as she pulled away, even flashing Killian a smile from her window before disappearing from view.

Killian had stood on the sidewalk watching the whole scene, a delighted smile gracing his face as Neal ran to his car to assess the damage. Emma Swan could certainly hold her own.

After being properly lectured about the accident by her father, who tried and failed to hide that he was definitely a tad proud, Emma’s reading was interrupted by a screech from her sister.

“Did you maim Neal’s car?!”

“Yup. Looks like you’re going to have to take the bus, or, you know, ride with your bitch of a sister.” Emma smiled, but didn’t bother looking up from her book.

“Has the fact that you’re completely insane managed to escape your attention?”

Emma shrugged. Mary Margaret let out a noise of frustration and then walked away.

Killian was at his locker talking to Will when none other than Neal Gold came strutting over and slammed Killian’s locker closed.

“When I shell out fifty bucks, I expect results.” He looked like he was two seconds from grabbing Killian’s jacket and lifting him up against the lockers, if only he wasn’t scared of Killian.

“I’m on it, mate.” He grinned at Will before turning back to a still-fuming Neal. Will slapped Killian on the back as he took his leave.

“Watching that bitch ram into my car doesn’t count as a date. If you don’t get some, I don’t get some. So get some.” Neal glared at Killian for a solid minute before starting to walk away when it was clear Killian wasn’t budging.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Killian called after him. “I just upped my price.”

Neal stared in disbelief. With what happened to Neal’s car, Killian figured he could get more out of him, though getting Emma Swan to go out with him was not about the money anymore. He liked a good challenge, and he might even like her. But the money wouldn’t hurt.

“Hundred bucks a date in advance.” Killian stood confidently as Neal stomped over to him.

“Forget it.” He started to walk away again.

“Forget her sister, then.” Killian knew he had Neal there.

Neal fished another $50 bill from his wallet. “You better hope you’re as smooth as you think you are, Jones.”

Killian said nothing, just took the money with a smug smile and walked away, leaving Neal at the lockers.

Killian Jones looked forward to his daily 45 minutes of shop class. He liked being hands-on, and it was a creative outlet. Since shop was an elective and it involved some heavy machinery, shop was the class in which the least amount of his classmates were scared of him. And the best part for Killian - his prosthetic hand was a guaranteed steady weight, and he didn’t risk cutting himself on that hand.

Their latest project was the most obvious of projects for a high school shop class: A birdhouse. However, the students could design their birdhouses to look like anything they wanted, so Killian was modeling his as a ship. His older brother had served in the navy, and Liam had gotten his younger brother fascinated with ships.

Just as Killian was working on carving the boat’s largest sail, he was approached by two guys who were absolutely not in the class.  

The blonde spoke first. “We know what you’re trying to do with Emma Swan.”

Killian put down the sander he was using on the sail. “Is that so? And what do you plan to do about it?”

“Help you out.”

That was not the response he was expecting. “Why’s that?”

The kid in the too-tight leather jacket answered. “The situation is my man David here is really into Mary Margaret Blanchard.”

Killian sighed. Of course. “What is it with this lass?”

“Look, I think I speak correctly when I say that David's love is pure - purer than, say, Neal Gold’s.”

“I really don’t give a damn who Gold nails. He’s paying me. That’s all this is.”

David reacted before his friend could get a word out. “There will be no nailing going on.”

The friend put a hand up to stop David from continuing. “Killian, Let me explain something to you here.  We set this whole thing up so David could get the girl - David. Neal's just a pawn.”

“So you two are going to help me tame the wild beast?” Killian alternated pointing between the two guys in front of him.

“We’ll do some research. We’ll find out what she likes.” Both of the guys were grinning at Killian. “Let’s start with Friday night. Matt Murdock is throwing a party - the perfect opportunity for you to take Emma out.”

“I’ll think about it.” Picking up the sander once more, Killian got back to work on his birdhouse, hoping his intruders would take the hint and go away. Once they were gone, patting each other on their backs as they walked away, the noise from the sander chased off any thoughts of Emma Swan and this plan he’d gotten mixed up in.

“So, Mary Margaret, have you heard about Murdock’s party Friday?” David looked at his walking companion.

“Yes. And I really, really, really want to go, but I can't - not unless my sister goes.”

“I know. I’m working on that. But so far, she just isn’t going for my guy.” Mary Margaret nodded slowly. Of course her sister wasn’t going for some guy. “She’s not, you know-”

“No,” Mary Margaret answered plainly. “She’s definitely into guys. I found magazine cutouts of actors she likes in her drawer once.”

“So that’s the kind of guys she likes - pretty guys?”

Mary Margaret shook her head. “I don’t know. All I've ever heard her say is that she'd die before dating a guy that smokes.”

“Okay. Helpful. What else?”

“You’re asking me to get inside my sister’s twisted mind? I don’t think so, David.”

“Well, nothing else has worked. We might have to go behind enemy lines here.”

Mary Margaret stopped in her tracks as she considered the idea. “Okay, come with me.” David couldn’t quite hide the smile blooming on his face. “You are really lucky I like you.”

Back at the Blanchard household, the two made sure Emma wasn’t home before creeping into her room.

“She keeps all her junk in this drawer.” Mary Margaret opened it slowly and started rifling through it. David stood awkwardly in the doorway, unsure of how exactly to act in Emma Swan’s bedroom. “Class schedule, reading list, planner, coffee receipts, concert tickets.” There was some potentially useful stuff there. David approached slowly, taking the items Mary Margaret had gathered. “Ah-ha! Red panties!”

David coughs. “What does that tell us?”

“She wants to have sex someday!”

“Or she’s really into red? She does wear that jacket all the time.”

“You don’t buy red lingerie unless you want someone to see it,” Mary Margaret laughed at his flustered behavior.

“Right.” David pulled the pile of Emma material closer to him as he took a step back from where Mary Margaret held out the red underwear. “You can put that back now.”

Rolling her eyes, she put the panties back in the drawer and took the pile from David. He got out his phone and took pictures of her schedule, reading list, and concert tickets. He’d take a more detailed look once they were out of Emma’s room. “You so owe me for coming in here.”

“Freedom to go to Murdock’s party?”

“I suppose that’s a start.”

Killian Jones worked part-time as a bartender at a local bar. The hours meant very little sleep, and he was late for school a lot after sleeping through his alarm, but the bar’s owner let him do homework behind the bar and he liked his regulars. The last thing he expected to see on the job was the two guys from shop class walk in. They looked entirely out of place, David in his bright plaid shirt and too-big grin on his face.

“So this is what a bar looks like.”

Killian ran to the front of the bar and pulled David by his shirt collar over to the pool table. “If my boss caught you two at the bar, I could lose my job. Why are you here?”

David pried his shirt from Killian’s fist and his grin disappeared. “We have some intel for you.”

Killian sat on the edge of the pool table. “All right. What’ve you got?”

“Wait. We can’t be at the bar, but you can work at one?” August crossed his arms.

“Owner is a family friend. If I drink, I lose my job,” Killian paused and looked between the two guys. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

Nodding in understanding, David went back to the night’s intended subject. “Well, thing No. 1, Emma hates smokers - hates.”

Killian’s jaw dropped.

“So you’re telling me I’m now a non-smoker?” August reached into Killian’s jacket pocket and took his pack of cigarettes.

“Yup.” Killian narrowed his eyes at August in anger. “But just for now.” He pocketed the cigarettes and held his hands up in innocence.

“Actually, there’s another problem,” David started. Killian turned his attention to him and raised his eyebrows in question. “Mary Margaret said Emma likes, um, pretty guys.”

Killian stared at David in silence for a second. “Are you telling me I’m not a pretty guy?”

“You’re very pretty. Gorgeous, in fact. Right, David?” August elbowed David in the side.

“Yup. Very pretty. I just, you know, I wasn’t sure.”

Killian started walking away, thinking the conversation was over.

“Wait. We have more.” David held up a crumpled up piece of paper.

Killian glanced over at the bar to make sure he was covered before turning back to David. “Go on.”

“Okay. Likes: Chinese and Indian food, hot chocolate, coffee, ‘80s music, Robert Downey Jr., and ‘90s boy bands, which I just cannot believe.” David pulled out another sheet of notebook paper. “This is for you - list of dvds she has in her room, list of books on her bookshelf that look the most read, and her most played songs on her iPod.”

“So I’m supposed to buy her Chicken Tikka Masala, a book, and sit around watching Robert Downey Jr. movies when we aren’t listening to Michael Jackson and Bon Jovi?”

Killian’s knowledge of the things David listed honestly surprised both August and him.

“Actually, have you ever heard of Avril Lavigne?”

“She has tickets to see her tomorrow night.”

“Absolutely not. I can’t be seen at an Avril Lavigne concert.”

“If it helps, she’s got a pair of red underwear.” 

Leaving Killian gaping, David and August left.

As he headed back to the bar to resume work, Killian groaned because he knew he had to go to that bloody concert the following night.

Killian could not be happier that the venue Avril Lavigne was playing had a bar with a bartender who absolutely could not tell a fake ID from a real one. Nursing a glass of rum - he limited himself to two; he had to drive home himself and he wasn’t that irresponsible - he watched Emma dance to the music with her friend. She was a vision in a green tank top and jeans, strong arms on display without her usual red leather jacket. Her hair was only just slightly wavy as she flipped it over her shoulder. He watched as she said something to her friend before heading his way. Spinning himself around on the stool, he pretended to be extremely interested in his phone all the sudden.

“Two waters, please.”

Killian could tell when she noticed him sitting there by her aggravated groan. “If you’re planning on asking me out again, you might as well get it over with.”

“Do you mind? I can’t hear the music over your voice.”

She knew perfectly well that he was not there for the music. “You’re not surrounded by your usual cloud of smoke.”

“Yeah. About that - I quit. Did you know those things are bad for you?”

“Wait. You quit?”

“Aye.” Killian took it as a win when Emma stared at him, too stunned to reply with some sarcastic retort. “You know, Swan, I was watching you out there before.”

“Stalker,” she quipped before thanking the bartender for the waters and paying him.

“I’ve never seen you look so sexy,” Killian commented when Emma turned her attention back to him, except he hadn’t noticed the song was ending, and there was a moment of silence in the club right as he spoke. His ears flashed bright red as he scratched at a spot behind his right ear. Being nearly the only male in the club, his comment was met with giggles from the female crowd, who had heard him clearly. The saving grace of his embarrassment was that Emma, gorgeously flushed from both her dancing and embarrassment, also laughed. Killian waited until the next song had started before getting the courage to talk again. “Come with me to Murdock’s party.”

“You just don’t know when to give up, huh?” She flashed him a grin as she made her way back to her friend in the crowd.

“Was that a yes?” He called after her.

“No,” she shouted in return.

“Was that a no?”

“No.”

Smiling to himself, he yelled to her once more, “I’ll pick you up at 9.”

Mary Margaret and Tamara had put on their party clothes and were close to the front door when Mr. Leo Blanchard called out from the couch, “should’ve used the window, girls.”

Tamara smacked Mary Margaret in the arm and muttered, “told you.”

Leo got up and confronted the girls. “And where are we going?”

“Well, if you must know, a small study group of friends.” Mary Margaret batted her eyelashes.

“Also known as a party?”

“Mr. Blanchard, it’s just a party. And I promise I’ll take care of Mary Margaret,” Tamara tried.

Leo called up the stairs, “Emma, did you know about some party tonight?”

“I don’t know,” Emma yelled from her room.

“That settles it. Emma isn’t going, you’re not going.”

“Emma!” Mary Margaret screeched up the stairs. “Emma, please! Just for one night, can’t you forget that you hate everyone and be my sister? Please? C’mon, Emma, please do this for me.”

Emma closed her book and sighed. Mary Margaret’s pleading was genuine enough. Grabbing her leather jacket, she headed downstairs. “Fine. I’ll make an appearance.”

Mary Margaret hugged Emma between high-pitched squeals of delight.

“Thank you, Emma. Thank you.”

Leo Blanchard just stood there in shock as Mary Margaret and Tamara ran out the door. Emma rolled her eyes and answered the door when someone knocked, expecting it to be one of her sister’s many suitors. She was taken aback when it was Killian Jones.

“What are you doing here?”

“It’s 9, right?” He glanced at his watch - 8:47. “Oh, I’m early.”

Emma barely recalled his promise to pick her up at 9. She was surprised he actually kept his word.

“Alright. The sooner we get there, the sooner we can leave.” She grabbed his left hand, which she noticed did not feel like a flesh hand, and pulled him out the door. His breath hitched immediately and it was like he forgot how to walk. She tugged before letting go. “You coming?”

He shook himself out of it. “Yeah. Of course, Swan.”

The party was exactly how Emma imagined it would be: Drunk teenagers all dry humping each other and talking far too loudly. She and Killian wandered around, neither one really sure how to act at a party. Walking upstairs, Killian was stopped by Ashley, that girl from their English class.

Ashley threw herself at Killian, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him to her. “Kiss me!”

Killian looked around, spotting a guy sitting on a beanbag placed in the hallway. He directed Ashley to that guy, forcing her into his lap. “Kiss him.”

About to walk away, Killian was stopped by a hand on his jacket - the hand of the guy he forced Ashley onto. “Hey, man! Thanks!”

Killian nodded at him and went to try to find Emma. He spotted her in one of the guest rooms, where someone had stuck a keg. She was talking to Neal Gold.

“Hey, Swan Princess. Looking good!”

Emma glared at Neal, the last person she wanted to see that night. Already wanting to leave, she turned around to find Killian to let him know she was going home. As she started walking out of the room, Neal grabbed her waist and pulled her back to him.

“Where you going, Em?”

“Away.” Emma pulled his hand off her.

“Where’s your sister? She here?”

“Stay the hell away from my sister.”

Neal put his hands up in mock surrender. “Fine. I’ll stay away from Mary Margaret, but I can’t guarantee she’ll stay away from me.” He smirked.

Emma pushed through the crowd to leave the room. She wandered around for a while as she looked for Killian. Heading into the kitchen hoping that if Killian wasn’t in there, maybe she could at least find something halfway-decent to eat, she was met with her sister on one of Neal’s arms and Tamara on his other. Both girls were giddy.

“Em,” he screamed. “Look who found me!” He led the girls away from Emma, who lost them in the crowd. So much for protecting her sister from the biggest jerk in Maine. She was an awful sister.

“Hey, want one?” She whipped her head around to see some guy who she figured was in college. He held out a tray of shots.

Glancing around the room once more, she didn’t see Mary Margaret anymore, or Killian, so she shrugged and took a shot. She downed it right as Killian found her.

“Swan, what are you doing?” He looked panicked as he took the empty shot glass from her.

“Partying. Like a normal person. My sister would be so proud.”

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Swan-” Killian was cut off as Emma spotted another tray of shots and wandered off in pursuit. Killian watched helplessly from the spot Emma just stood. “One of these days, I’m going to stop chasing this woman.” He headed after her, hoping she didn’t get too carried away.

“August, I just saw Mary Margaret.”

“Took you long enough to find her. Where is she now?”

“With Neal.” August froze, his cup of water not quite making it to his mouth.

“That wasn’t in the plan. Now what?”

David took a deep breath. “I - I don’t know. She was happy. She looked like she wanted to be here with him.”

“Go find her again. Make up a reason for her to spend time with you instead.” David nodded, sighing and turning to leave. He looked defeated. August patted David on the back as he watched his friend disappear into the crowd. “Good luck, my friend.”

Killian paced the entirety of the house twice before he found Emma, but too late. She was dancing on the coffee table in the living room, completely drunk.

“Swan, what do you say I have this shot?” He pried the glass from her hand as she continued to dance.

“No! It’s mine!” She tried her hardest to grab it back, but she was slow in her inebriated state.

“Hey, man!” Neal put an arm around Killian’s shoulders. Killian shuddered in return. “How did you do it?”

“What?”

“You managed to get her to act like a normal person!” Neal cheered as Emma kept dancing, taking off her jacket and swinging it around. Killian shook off Neal and moved closer to Emma as she made her way to the edge of the table. He was barely able to catch her as she fell off, but when he did, he carried her outside to keep her from drinking any more. He found a bench on the porch outside and put her down onto it.

“Are you alright?”

“Never better.” That was a lie. She couldn’t even sit up by herself. She leaned on Killian’s side and let her head dangle forward as she rested her eyes.

Killian rubbed her back and made sure she was comfortable. She dozed off on his shoulder. He sighed, rubbing his temples when he saw David storm out of the house.

“She wanted Neal this whole time!”

Killian helped lie Emma down onto the bench as he stepped aside to talk with David. “What’s up, mate?”

“I saw Mary Margaret and Tamara with Neal. I felt sorry for myself for a little, then went to find her again. The second time, she was so transfixed with him. I was a fool. It’s off, Killian. The whole thing’s off. Thanks for trying, but she never wanted me. She just wanted me to help her out so she could go out with him.”

Killian didn’t have time for this.

“Nolan, look. Do you like Mary Margaret?”

David sighed and softened. “Yeah.”

“And is she worth all the trouble?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know anymore. I thought so, but-”

Killian stared David down. “Look, mate. Either she is or she isn’t. First of all, Neal is not half the man you are. Secondly, don’t let anyone ever make you feel like you don’t deserve what you want, aye?”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah.”

Emma stirred and tried to stand up from the bench on her own.

“I’m a tad busy here, Dave. Best of luck with Mary Margaret.” David nodded and took off back inside. Killian ran back to Emma just in time to catch her and get her to sit back down.

“Why are you taking care of me like this?” Emma babbled.

“It may surprise you, Swan, but I care for you.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You don’t really, though.”

“Of course I do.”

“Why?”

“If you weren’t around, I’d have to start taking out girls who actually like me.”

She snorted. “Like you could find one.”

“Ah, see that? Who needs affection when I have blind hatred?” They both laughed. “Can I ask you something now, Swan?” She didn’t answer. “Why do you let Neal get to you? I mean, he’s a wanker, but it’s like you take it personally.”

“I hate him.”

Killian opened his mouth to ask another question, but he was interrupted by Emma darting into a sitting position before puking onto the ground in front of the bench. He sighed yet again as he gathered her hair and held it back as she emptied her stomach.

“Hey, Mary Margaret, Neal’s holding an afterparty. You in?”

“I don’t know, Tam. I have a curfew. It’s my first night of freedom. I can’t take advantage like that.”

“Girls, you coming?” Neal waved from the door.

“Be right there,” Tamara called out to him in her flirtiest voice. He seemed impressed. Mary Margaret started to realize that maybe Neal wasn’t that into her. Maybe he just wanted any girl he could get his hands on.

“Last chance, Mary Margaret.”

With her recent realization, she actually didn’t want to go the party. “I think I’ll just find my sister and go home.”

“Alright. Your loss. Text you tomorrow.” Mary Margaret nodded to acknowledge her friend before sighing and looking around for Emma. It was looking like she needed a ride home. She found David instead.

“Hey. Have fun tonight?” He asked timidly.

“Look, David,” she started. She made eye contact as she asked, “do you think you could give me a ride home?”

Killian and Emma sat in his car. He was parked in front of her house, but she seemed hesitant to get out of the car.

“I should do this,” she giggles.

“Do what?”

She pointed at the car stereo.

“Install car stereos?” She laughed. He would think about that laugh for the rest of time.

“No. Start a band. Wouldn’t my dad just love that?” In that moment, she thought about her mom and how she loved to sing and play guitar - she was the reason Emma taught herself guitar.

“You don't strike me as the type to ask your father’s permission.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You really think you know me, huh?”

“I like to think I’m getting closer.”

“The only thing people know about me is that I’m a bitch.”

“Yeah, well, I’m no picnic myself.” Emma and Killian locked eyes as silence overtook the car. Killian was the one to break the moment. “So what's up with your dad?  Is he a pain in the ass like everyone makes him seem?”

“Nah. He just wants me to be someone I’m not.”

“Who’s that?”

“Mary Margaret.”

“Well, no offense to your sister or anything, but she’s without.”

Emma stared at him. She’d always been the second-choice sister. “You’re really not as repulsive as I thought you were.” The two seemed to share a moment as Emma leaned in closer to Killian. His breath hitched, and it was then and the stench of beer and tequila that reminded him how drunk she was.

“Swan, maybe we should do this another time.”

Emma pulled back, hurt flashing in her eyes at the rejection. She wrestled to get the car door open, then slammed it before walking to her house, wiping tears along the way. Killian sighed as his head fell forward to rest on the steering wheel. He just hoped she’d understand when she sobered up.

Meanwhile, in David’s car, still at the party, he couldn’t find it in himself to turn the motor on just yet.

“You never wanted to go out with me, did you?”

“Well, I kinda did.”

“But I’m not Neal.”

“I don’t know. He’s just-”

“You don’t have to say any more.”

“I do like you, David.”

“Save it. just because you're beautiful, doesn't mean you can treat people like they don't matter. I mean, I really like you. I defended you when people called you conceited. I helped set Emma up so you could get out of the house. I learned French for you. And then you just blow me off for him.”

Mary Margaret answered by pulling him to her and kissing him. Cheering to himself, David knew he had won after all. She was absolutely worth the trouble.

Mr. Pendragon opened class as he always did on Mondays, asking about the students’ weekends.

“Why don’t you ask Emma?” Neal joked.

“Why do I feel like I don’t actually want to know what you all got up to?” He looked over at Emma, who was hiding her head in her arms on her desk. “All right. I definitely don’t. Let’s get started. Sonnets!”

The class groaned.

“I know, I know. Shakespeare and poetry - not everyone’s favorite things. But I want you all to write your own sonnets.”

Emma raised her hand. Mr. Pendragon prepared himself for the worst. “Does it have to be in iambic pentameter?”

Mr. Pendragon was stunned. “You don’t want to assert an opinion here?”

“I think this is a good assignment.”

“Are you messing with me?”

“No. I’m really looking forward to writing this.” He sized her up for a minute looking for a trace of a lie. Whatever happened last weekend must have really gotten to her.

“Alright, Ms. Swan. Thank you. And, no, it does not have to be written in iambic pentameter.”

Emma nodded and took note, specifically avoiding looking behind her at where Killian’s desk was.

Killian sat on the sideline bench alone as he watched Emma practice with her soccer team. He sighed, really wishing he could smoke a cigarette at that moment.

“Hey, man.” David sat next to Killian. “What’d you do to her?”

“Nothing. And if I had done anything, she would’ve been too drunk to remember.”

“But the plan was working.”

Killian took his eyes off Emma and looked at David. “Why do you even care? I thought the plan was off?”

“It was, but you gave me that pep talk and then,” he smiled.

“And then?”

“She kissed me.”

That got Killian to smile. At least someone got the girl. “Where?”

“In my car.”

Killian was going to press for more details, but August ran up to the bench. “So I talked to Emma.”

“And?” Killian looked up at August, hopeful.

“She really, really hates you right now.” Killian’s shoulders sagged with disappointment.

“Well,” David tried to find a positive in the situation but failed. “Maybe she just needs a day to cool off.”

All three guys ducked as a soccer ball came beaming at them at a speed that seemed like it could’ve cleanly knocked one of their heads off. They turned to the field to find Emma glaring at them. She was absolutely the one who kicked it. She was absolutely aiming for Killian.

David smiled sheepishly. “Maybe two days.”

Emma and Lily were headed outside to eat lunch when they came across a flier for prom. In anger, Emma yanked it from the wall.

“Can you imagine who would go to that antiquated mating ritual?”

Lily raised her hand. “I actually would, but I don’t have a date.”

Emma shot daggers at Lily with her eyes.

“Okay, okay. We won’t go. It’s not like I have a dress anyway.”

“Hey, Mary Margaret,” Neal came up to her.

She wasn’t really interested in talking to him. “Can I help you?” She focused on the field hockey ball she was dribbling between her stick.

“You’re concentrating awfully hard for gym class.”

“What do you want?”

“I want to talk to you about prom.”

“You know the deal.” She chased the ball after losing control of it. Stopping dribbling for a minute, she finally faced Neal. “I can’t go if Emma doesn’t.”

“You sister is going.”

She crossed her arms. “Since when?”

“Let’s just say I’m taking care of it.”

Mary Margaret smiled. Maybe she’d get to go to prom after all, but she definitely didn’t see herself there with Neal.

Neal held out two $100 bills to Killian. “This should take care of the flowers, the limo, the tux - everything. Just make sure she gets to the prom.”

“You know what? I’m out. I’m sick of playing your little game.” Killian’s eyes scanned the hallway. He just wanted to see Emma again.

“Are you still out if I raise it to $300?”

Killian knew he could use the money, but Emma wasn’t a business transaction for him. He took the money. He would use some of it for prom if things went well, but he was coming up with a plan for a way to use some of the rest of it.

The next day, Killian saw Emma’s car at a record store. He stopped in to see if she was still angry at him.

“Excuse me,” he tapped her on the shoulder. “Have you seen a copy of From Under The Cork Tree? I seem to have misplaced mine.”

She whipped around and crossed her arms. “What are you doing here?”

“I was looking for a Fall Out Boy album. I thought my inquiry made that clear.”

“You’re so-”

“Charming? Devilishly handsome?”

“Unwelcome.” She started to walk to a different section of the store. He followed.

“You’re not as mean as you think you are.”

“You’re not as badass as you think you are.”

“Someone still has her panties in a twist.”

She swung around. “Don't you, for one second, think that you had any effect on my panties.”

“Then what did I have an effect on?”

“Other than my upchuck reflex, nothing.” She continued browsing through records, then pulled one out. She pressed it to his chest before leaving. Killian had to set his plan in motion quickly. Before leaving himself, he looked at the record she found him: From Under the Cork Tree.

At soccer practice the next day, Emma was in the zone. Soccer was a great way for her to channel her anger at Killian. She was so focused on perfecting the team’s newest play, she hadn’t realized her teammates all stopped playing. Trapping the ball, she turned around to face the bleachers to see what all her teammates were staring at. She was greeted by Killian at the top of the bleachers, something in his hand. He ran down a few rows of seats so Emma could make him out better. It was a microphone.

Pulling the mic to his mouth, he sang, “you’re just too good to be true. Can’t take my eyes off of you. You'd be like heaven to touch. I want to hold you so much. At long last love has arrived, and I thank god I'm alive. You're just too good to be true. Can't take my eyes off you.”

Emma found herself almost swooning. Her teammates looked at her for her reaction. She smiled, then jumped as there was a loud noise from behind her. She turned to see the marching band walking onto the field, playing along to the song Killian was singing.

She turned her attention back to Killian. “I love you, baby. And if it's quite alright, I need you, baby, to warm the lonely nights.”

The school police had gotten word of the disturbance and were running onto the bleachers to stop Killian. Taking a look at his pursuers, Killian wagged his eyebrows at Emma before running around the bleachers as he sang, dodging police officers and adding a strut or two as he sauntered around.

And he didn’t miss a note. “I love you, baby. Trust in me when I say, oh, pretty baby, don't bring me down, I pray. Oh, pretty baby, now that I've found you, stay and let me love you.”

He made his way down to the first row of seats, and Emma found herself walking over to him. She smiled and laughed as he sang the last line, staring into her eyes. “Baby, let me love you.”

Everyone who witnessed the song applauded and cheered when he finished, Emma included. Smiling back at her, Killian winked before being carried off by the police officers. Who knew Killian Jones would be one for grand romantic gestures?

Saturday detention was nothing new to Killian Jones. He had been sentenced to spend a few of his precious free days at school among his fellow delinquents before - sometimes for smoking, sometimes for ditching class or coming in late, et cetera, et cetera. But this Saturday, the prospect of spending his entire day trapped in an overheated classroom was more bothersome than usual, as he knew that Emma Swan was no longer angry with him. He wanted nothing more than to spend the day with her.

Resigning himself to twiddling his thumbs in detention all day, Killian sat back and tried to make himself comfortable. He stared at the ceiling for what must have been 20 minutes, avoiding getting on Coach Stark’s bad side - maybe he could get off early for good behavior?

Killian’s attention was pulled from the ceiling as the door to the classroom slammed closed. He sat up slowly before blinking his eyes rapidly to ensure his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him. Talking to Coach Stark at the front of the room was none other than Emma Swan. Killian immediately sat up straighter. Emma glanced at him from the corner of her eye, still talking to her soccer coach.

When Coach Stark bent down to get a pad of paper and pen from his desk, Emma mouthed to Killian, “the windows,” as she pointed to said windows. He nodded and got in position to move from his desk while not arousing suspicion from the coach. With the in-charge adult’s attention on Emma, Killian tiptoed in the aisle between the desks to the row of windows lining the left wall of the classroom.

“So I think we really need to work more on our defense for the game against the Racoons,” Killian caught a bit of Emma’s conversation as he worked to silently open a window wide enough for him to squeeze through. Emma watched him worriedly with quick glances over to him. “Ruby is a great goalie, but the team needs to have her back when she’s down after blocking a shot.”

Killian cursed to himself when his jacket zipper got caught on the window. His eyes flashed to Emma’s. She put her hands on Coach Stark to keep him facing her. “I mean, if she’s down, I just think someone needs to step into the goal and cover for her.”

“Emma, why don’t we talk about this more at practice next week.” He turned to sit back at his desk, but a quick look at Killian showed Emma he was only half out of the window.

Acting impulsively and without any real thought, she eyed the corner of the teacher’s desk and walked forward as if to keep talking to the coach as he sat down. With a precisely placed foot, Emma tripped over the desk leg and fell straight to the floor. Her fall was met with a stinging in her left wrist, but as she looked to the window, Killian was nowhere in sight. Sighing in relief, she cradled her wrist with her other hand as Coach Stark bent down next to her to tend to her. She definitely injured her wrist, but if Killian got away unnoticed, it would be worth it.

Feeling the concrete under his feet, Killian was so thankful the detention room was on the first floor. He looked into the room to see Emma and figure out how she managed to get him out unseen, but she was nowhere in sight. Disappointed over not being able to see her and properly thank her, he started making his way to his car.

Halfway across the parking lot, he spun around at the sound of his name.

“Killian! Killian, wait up!” Emma was waving and running to where he stood.

“Swan,” he grinned as she caught up to him. “Thanks for springing me from detention.”

“Yeah, well, if I hadn’t been so pissed that you wouldn’t take advantage of me in your car, you never would’ve ended up there.”

“I don’t regret it, you know.”

Emma’s eyes flashed downward as she blushed just enough for Killian to notice.

“Hey, Swan, what are you doing now?”

“Heading home to read, I guess. Or I have some homework I could do.” Truth was she was going to go home to ice her wrist; it was hurting like crazy.

He really hoped the interest he saw in her eyes was really there. “Come on, Swan.” He walked to the passenger side of his car and opened the door. “In the car.”

“What? That’s really creepy, Jones.”

“And here I thought you weren’t afraid of me,” he joked.

Emma stuck her tongue out at him as she got into the car. The wrist probably wasn’t broken. It could wait. Once he got settled into his seat, Emma asked, “so what’s going on here?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m taking you-” he booped her nose “-on a date.”

Killian took Emma to a harbor. Emma hissed when Killian took her left hand upon her getting out of the car, but she didn’t see any sign he noticed. He led her to a corner of the harbor where people were going out onto the water in little swan boats.

“The swans made me think of you, and I thought it might be fun.” He let go of her hand and scratched behind his ear. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just-”

Emma was a tad worried they wouldn’t be able to steer themselves and that they’d be stranded in the harbor, but she couldn’t chicken out when little kids were doing it. “It looks like fun. Let’s do it.”

He put a hand on her back as they walked to the man running the swan boat rentals. The boats were much bigger than Emma expected, and they were steered with two sets of pedals - one set for each of them. Killian helped her into the boat, then followed, impressively steady on his own. When they were in safely, they both found their pedals and took off. Emma was surprised how smoothly the boat moved through the water.

“We’re out far enough. Let’s just drift for a little.” She took her feet off the pedals and looked around. She felt so peaceful out there. The only thing keeping her grounded in reality was the stinging from her wrist. “You know, Swan, I thought, for sure, I was busted when I was halfway out the window. How did you keep the coach distracted?”

Not wanting to admit that she tripped on purpose to distract the teacher but accidentally injured herself, plus the fact that he’d make her go home if he knew she was in pain, she just shrugged, a smirk on her face.

Killian got the hint that she wouldn’t tell him. “So what’s your excuse then?”

“For what?”

“Acting the way we do.”

“I don't like to do what people expect. Why should I live up to other people’s expectations instead of my own?”

He was smart enough to know there was a reason for this, but he didn’t push for the backstory. “So you disappoint them from the start and then you're covered, right?

“Something like that.”

“Then you screwed up.”

Emma never would have expected him to say something like that. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve yet to disappoint me.”

Emma didn’t know what to say, so she just stared, wide-eyed.

After the silence went on long enough, Killian broke it. “So I think we should head back to shore soon. We have another destination or two.”

“Where are we going?” She had softened considerably, and she barely recognized her voice so soft.

“Try something new, darling. It’s called trust.”

After a gourmet grilled cheese lunch - he told her she went on and on about grilled cheese while she was drunk at the party - he drove them to a paintball arena. Putting the car in park, he looked at Emma. “Are you up for it?”

Emma was so excited, she momentarily forgot about the pain in her wrist. She should’ve figured he wouldn’t be into any of the usual boring date stuff; he’s never been boring.

So she played paintball and absolutely painted Killian multiple different neon colors. And then they made out behind a makeshift shield until their game was over and they had to leave. Emma’s wrist was throbbing by the time she got back to the school parking lot, but she’d never laughed that much ever in her life. She didn’t even care that it was going to take four showers to get the neon pinks and greens from her hair. Emma Swan was happy, and it was because of Killian Jones.

Back in the school parking lot, they sat on a curb drinking milkshakes and talking.

“Can I ask you something?”

“How I’m so devilishly handsome? I’m afraid that’s a secret I can’t share.”

Emma rolled her eyes. Killian nodded for her to ask her real question. “What’s with the accent? I mean, you know how it is with people who act like us. The rumors are, frankly, ridiculous.”

“I was born in England. Lived there most of my life, until my mum got sick, my father abandoned me, and my brother died in the Navy. And there was the accident that gave me this,” he held up his left hand, which was a prosthetic. Emma had, of course, noticed before, but she had never given it thought.

“I’m sorry, Killian. None of those are rumors going around school. I never expected-”

“It’s okay, Swan. I moved here after all that. I didn’t want to be surrounded by those memories any longer.” She stared into his crystal clear blue eyes as he divulged his tragic past to her. “Became emancipated early on, so I live alone now. I have to support myself, but it’s better than being forced to face my father back in England, which is what I was supposed to do when Liam died.”

“Liam - your brother?”

“Aye.”

Emma felt like she really understood why he acted the way he did - it was much the same as the reasons she acted the way she did. They were kindred spirits.

“Enough of that for one date. It’s going to ruin the mood.”

“There’s a mood?”

“Well, I was hoping there was because I have something to ask you.” She waited for him to continue. “Will you go to prom with me?”

“Killian, I- no.”

His eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “No?”

“No.”

“Can I ask why not?” She tried not to feel awful at his high-pitched, shaky voice.

“Because I don’t want to. It’s a stupid tradition.”

“People don’t expect you to go. You love surprising people.”

“Killian, I said no. Why are you pushing this?”

He broke eye contact. “Nothing, love. I just wanted to go to prom with the girl I fancy,” he huffed.

Emma sensed something was off. “What’s in it for you?”

“So now I need a motive to want to be with you?”

“You tell me.”

“Emma!” He threw his hands up.

“Answer the question, Killian.”

“Nothing.” He stood up in anger and headed back to his own car. “Nothing is in it for me. I just wanted to take you and give you a great night.” He stopped, turning around to face Emma again. “I know love has been all too rare in your life. It would do you good to not push it away when you have it.” Turning back around, he got into his car and slammed the door before driving away in anger. That certainly hurt worse than her wrist did.

Emma and Lily were at their lockers packing their backpacks before they headed home. Lily opened her locker to find a gorgeous dress with a note attached.

“Emma,” she smiled, “I have a secret admirer! He asked me to prom!” She held the dress up to herself and grinned even harder.

Emma wanted to be happy for her friend, she really did, but she wasn’t feeling it. So she forced a smile onto her face and told her friend to have fun at the dance before shutting her locker and heading home.

“Come in,” Emma muttered to whoever was knocking on her door. She was lying in bed staring at the ceiling. Her TV was on, but she hadn’t been watching it for hours.

Mary Margaret didn’t enter the room, just poked her head into the door. “Just so you know, you’re not the only girl not going to prom. Dad said I can’t go because you aren’t. So, you know, if you want to stop hating yourself and do something, I’ll be around.”

Emma sat up. “Mary Margaret, wait.” Her sister walked in the room and sat on the corner of Emma’s bed. “I know you don’t like being stuck here just because I’m not dating, but don’t think I don’t care. I do care about your feelings, but I’m also big on doing something for your own reasons, and not someone else's.”

“But that’s selfish, Emma.”

“It’s protection.” She could see the questions in her sister’s brain. Emma decided she needed to tell Mary Margaret something she’d been avoiding for three years. “I guess Neal never mentioned that we went out, huh?”

Mary Margaret’s eyes widened.

“When we were freshmen, we went out for a month.”

“You hate Neal,” Mary Margaret pointed out.

“Now,” Emma corrected.

“Well, what happened?” Mary Margaret crawled closer to Emma.

“We - well, we - you know.”

Mary Margaret seemed to stop breathing. “Tell me you’re kidding.”

“I really wish I could.” Emma bit her lip before continuing. “It was only once. Mom had just died, and I didn’t know how to process anything. He kept pressing the issue, so I gave in and did it. Once it happened, things became - I don’t know - clearer somehow. I told him that was it; I didn’t want to do it again. He got mad and dumped me.” Taking a breath, Emma kept talking. “After that, I swore I’d never do anything when I didn’t want to just because someone else did.”

“Why hasn’t he said anything? That doesn’t make sense.”

“I threatened him - told him if he ever told anyone, then I’d tell people how bad he was at it.”

“But you didn’t tell me either, Emma.”

“I wanted you to make your own mistakes, I guess.”

Mary Margaret seemed to understand to an extent, but a part of her was clearly still mad at everything she’d missed out on. “You helped Dad keep me hostage!”

“I’m sorry. Not all experiences are good ones, Mary Margaret!”

“I guess I’ll never know.” With that, she stood up and went to her own room.

Emma sighed and fell back on her pillows. Welp, she was going to prom after all.

“Well, no one will expect this,” Emma mumbled as she stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror. She was wearing a pale pink dress - it wasn’t a floor-length dress, but Emma in a dress was still something.

Emma grabbed a jacket and ran down the stairs as quickly as she could in heels. “Bye, Dad. I’m going to prom.”

Leo Blanchard didn’t even look up away from the television set. “Funny, sweetie.”

Emma kept walking, not wanting to draw attention to herself. Leo only looked up when he heard the front door shut behind her. Getting up and going to investigate, Leo found his youngest daughter coming down the stairs in a floor-length gown.

“What’s going on, honey?”

“Prom,” she answered perkily.

“Yeah, that seems to be the word of the night.” He paused to think for a moment. “So Emma-”

“Went to prom. For me, Daddy. So now I can go.” As if on cue, there was a knock on the front door, which Mary Margaret answered.

David Nolan stood on the other side of the door, jaw dropping to the ground. “Hi.”

“Hi, David.” She took a step out of the house and linked arms with him before addressing her father. “Remember how you said I could date if Emma dated? Well, she found this guy who’s actually perfect for her, which is actually kind of perfect for me, because David asked me to go to the prom, and I really, really, really want to go. And since Emma went, I guess I’m allowed to.”

“It’s nice to meet you, sir.” David extended a hand out to Leo, who shook it.

“I know every cop in town, young man,” Leo stared down David.

“Noted.”

“Okay, David. Let’s go.” Mary Margaret pulled David to his car, waving goodbye to her father on the way.

Wandering around the ballroom hallway aimlessly, Emma came face-to-face with Killian, dressed in an all-black tux.

“Wow, Swan. You look stunning.”

“And you look-”

“I know.” He smirked, and she laughed.

“Where did you get a tux?”

“Just something I had lying around.”

“Oh?”

“Where’d you get the dress?”

Emma grinned. “Just something I had lying around.”

“I wasn’t sure how this was supposed to work, but” he pulled his hand from behind his back, and in it was a single red rose.

“Thanks.” She took it, still smiling. “So, look; I’m really sorry I questioned your motives. I was wrong.”

“All forgiven.”

“So, are you ready to do this thing?”

Meanwhile, back at the Blanchard household, Leo was interrupted from his favorite show yet again when the doorbell rang. He opened it to find Neal Gold standing on the other side.

“Hello, Mr. Blanchard. I’m Neal. I’m here to pick up Mary Margaret.”

Leo narrowed his eyes before telling him, “she’s not here,” and slamming the door in his face.

Back at prom, Emma and Killian walked into the ballroom hand-in-hand. Emma immediately spotted Mary Margaret dancing with her date. Mary Margaret noticed Emma, too, mouthing a “thank you” and smiling at Emma and Killian’s entwined hands.

“Have you seen him, Emma?” Emma spun around on the spot to find Lily looking frantic.

“Who?”

“My secret admirer! He said he’d be here, and he’s supposed to have a purple bowtie.”

“Lily, I don’t know how to tell you this, but-”

“Lass,” Killian tapped Lily on the shoulder and pointed toward the front of the room, right in front of the stage.

Lily ran over to her secret admirer, none other than August Booth, who greeted her with a kiss on the hand.

Turning her attention back to her date, Emma tucked the rose into Killian’s jacket pocket.

“So do we dance?”

“Yes, but wait thirty seconds.”

“What?” Emma furrowed her eyebrows. “Why do we have to wait?”

“Song’s ending.”

They both clapped as the band finished a song. The next song started playing, but the band’s lead singer wasn’t singing. Emma recognized that voice.

“No way!”

Killian was grinning ear-to-ear.

“It’s Avril!”

“I called in a favor.”

“You did this?” He shrugged, ears tinged red. She stepped up onto her toes and kissed him.

By the time they pulled away, the song was a quarter over. When they finally parted, Killian held out his hand. “Can I have this dance?”

“Of course.”

Freshening up in the bathroom, Mary Margaret was joined at the sink by Tamara.

“I just thought you should know that Neal’s here with me tonight.”

Mary Margaret froze. “Well, he’s all yours, Tam.”

“How generous, Princess.” Tamara checked her makeup and smirked as she turned to face Mary Margaret. “And just so you know, Neal only liked you for one reason. He had a bet going with his friends. He just wanted to get in your pants tonight.”

Mary Margaret dropped her phone into the sink as she stared at Tamara, who strutted out of the bathroom.

Back on the dance floor, Emma and Killian continued to dance.

“How are you so good at this? I usually have two left feet when I dance.”

“You’re a soccer player.”

“I can play soccer. I can’t dance.”

Killian pressed a kiss to Emma’s cheek and pulled her impossibly closer.

“Lucky for you, there’s only one rule for dancing: Pick a partner who knows what he’s doing.”

Emma threw her head back with laughter as Killian’s eyebrows jumped.

Unfortunately, their dance was interrupted by Neal, who grabbed Killian’s shoulder and pulled him aside.

“What the hell is Mary Margaret doing here with that asshat? I didn’t pay you to take out Emma so that some little punk could steal Mary Margaret from under me!”

Emma actually gasped out loud at the revelation. The hurt flashed over her. She confronted Killian. “Nothing in it for you? Yeah, right.” Emma ran from the ballroom, tears already falling. Killian followed.

“Emma, please let me explain.”

Emma turned to him, not caring how she looked mid-crying fit. “You were paid to take me out by the one person I truly hate. I knew it.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Really? What was it like - a down payment now and then a bonus for sleeping with me?”

“No. No, I didn’t care about the money, okay? I cared-” he sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “I cared about you.”

She stared him down for a minute, neither of them talking. She shook her head. “You are so not who I thought you were.”

Neal went straight up to David, flaring with anger, and punched him in the nose. David fell to the ground.

“Oh, come on. Get up, you wuss.”

Neal turned around to leave, just in time to be socked in the jaw by Mary Margaret.

“What the hell, Mary Margaret! I have a modeling gig tomorrow!”

“That’s for making my date bleed.” She punched him in the nose. “That’s for my sister.” She kneed him in a particularly sensitive male area. “And that’s for me.”

Watching Neal rolling on the ground, Mary Margaret helped David up, asking him, “are you okay?”

Despite the blood flowing from his nose, he grinned, answering honestly, “never better.”

Emma was listening to music in her room when Mary Margaret walked in with a mug.

“Hot chocolate and cinnamon.”

Emma took the mug. “Thanks.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come to lunch with David and me?”

“I’m sure.”

“It’ll be fun,” she gently nudged Emma with her elbow.

“It’s fine, Mary Margaret. I promise.”

“I’m sorry I dragged you to prom. And everything with Killian. You’re miserable because of me.”

Emma took both of her earbuds out. “It’s not because of you. It’s because of Killian and Neal. And I’m glad I went. Now I know.”

“Well, I really appreciate that you went last night. It means a lot to me.”

“I’m glad you had a good night.”

The girls were interrupted by a knock on the front door. “That’s probably David.”

“Go, Mary Margaret. Have fun, okay?”

Mary Margaret nodded as she slowly left Emma’s room.

Emma’s next guest was her father, who came in basically as soon as her sister left.

“So tell me about the prom. You seemed pretty upset when you came home.”

“It wasn’t all bad, I guess. Parts of it were fun.”

Leo made himself comfortable on the bean bag chair on Emma’s floor. “Which parts?”

“The part where Mary Margaret beat the crap out of this guy.”

“Mary Margaret did what?”

“Are you upset I rubbed off on her?”

“No. Impressed, actually.”

Emma was thrown off by her father’s approval.

“You know, when you moved in with us, Emma, your walls were up pretty high. Over the years, you let them down and opened up to us. Then your mother died, and you closed yourself off again. You haven’t been the same since the accident. But these last few weeks, you’ve been almost happy.” Emma took a sip of her cocoa. “You don’t tell me much these days, but whatever was going on, I liked seeing you smile again.”

“I’m sorry, Dad. It’s just - everyone I’ve ever loved left me. I was abandoned as a baby, the one family I felt a part of before yours gave me back, and then Mom died. I just didn’t want to feel like that again. But now-” Emma sighed.

“Emma,” Leo started, “why do you think I refused to let your sister date? I wanted to protect her from that. You know, I still don’t know how to deal with it sometimes.”

Emma looked at her father, feeling an understanding for the first time in years.

“But I promise, Emma, your sister and I aren’t going anywhere.”

“You can’t guarantee that.” Emma wiped a tear falling down her cheek.

“I know. But-”

“I know.” Emma smiled at her father before putting her mug down and hugging him. “I’m sorry about the last three years.”

“Oh, Emma. No. There’s nothing to be sorry for.” Leo stood up to leave, things cleared up between them for the first time in years. “Whatever has you feeling down again, I hope it gets worked out.”

“Me too.”

“I assume everyone has found the time to complete their sonnets,” Mr. Pendragon opened class. “Anyone brave enough to read theirs aloud?”

Every student in the room tried to avoid eye contact with Mr. Pendragon so they wouldn’t be called on.

“Anyone?”

Emma slowly raised her hand. “I’ll do it.”

Killian’s head jerked up, and Mr. Pendragon expected the worst.

Emma grabbed her notebook and went to the front of the room. Opening it to her bookmarked page, she started reading, keeping her voice as monotone as her emotion would allow.

“I hate the way you talk like that and the way your hair stands up. I hate the way you drive my car. I hate it when you stare. I hate your big dumb jacket and the way you read my mind. I hate you so much it makes me sick. It even makes me rhyme.” Emma paused, then continued, slowly feeling the emotions bubbling over. She took a deep breath. “I hate the way you're always right. I hate it when you lie. I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry.” Emma wiped her eyes and continued, crying in front of the whole class. “I hate it when you're not around and the fact that you didn't call. But mostly, I hate the way I don't hate you - not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.” Fully crying and not able to cope, Emma clutched the notebook to her chest and took off out the classroom, not risking a look at Killian.

After school that day, Emma walked to her car, more than ready to go home after the day she had. She opened the door of her car to put her backpack on the seat, and she was met with a brand-new guitar. She threw her backpack into the backseat and pulled the guitar out.

“No way!”

“Nice, huh?” Emma swung around to see Killian smirking behind her.

“Yeah! Is this- is this for me?”

“Aye. I thought you could use it, you know, when you start your band. I also may have talked to your sister. She said your mum used to play.” He talked to her sister for her?! Emma wasn’t sure what was more shocking - the fact that he spoke to her sister for intel or that her sister kept the whole thing a secret. “Besides, I had some extra cash. You know, some asshole paid me to take out a really great girl.” He closed her car door and leaned back against it.

Emma couldn’t quite keep from smiling. “Is that right?”

“Yeah,” he scratched the spot behind his ear. “But I screwed up. I - well, I fell for her.”

Both of them blushed at the confession.

“Really?”

“Don’t you know, Emma? It’s always been you.” She balanced the guitar against the side of her car before grabbing the lapels of his leather jacket and pulling him to her, kissing him hard.

He pulled away but kept his face within mere inches of hers. “It’s not every day you find a girl who will sprain her wrist to get you out of detention.”

“Oh, god. You were never supposed to know about that.” She laughed anyway. He peppered her face with kisses - her cheek, her chin, her jaw, her nose. She pushed his head away when he got back to her lips. “You can’t just buy me a guitar every time you screw up, you know?”

“I know. But there’s always drums and bass, and maybe even one day a tambourine.” He kissed her as her grin grew.

She broke the kiss apart again. “And don’t just think you can-”

He shut her up with a kiss. And this time, neither one pulled away.  

[snarkyperson]

i don’t wanna take you down with me

I think I need to document what’s going on and also try to purge some of the whirlwind of my thoughts.

Three weeks ago my psychiatrist doubled my dose of lithium.  I was okay for a few days but then the weirdest thing happened.  I lost all my emotions.  I wasn’t sad.  I wasn’t happy.  I wasn’t angry.  I was just… nothing.  Blank.  Empty.  Stony like a statue, or like a Tranquil from Dragon Age.  I would just lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about absolutely nothing.  I didn’t want to get up, because why should I?  I didn’t feel like eating (I have been having a really rough time with this in particular.  I’m losing weight, which is awesome, but that’s a result of, using yesterday as an example, eating nothing more than four crackers in a day).  But I just had no thoughts.  No emotions.  Nothing.

It freaked me the fuck out.

After three days of this, the hysteria started.  It was even weirder because I still felt blank, but then it would feel like a scream was bubbling up inside me and I couldn’t stop it.  And then I would start freaking out, sometimes crying, or hyperventilating.  I could not get myself under control.  I’ve always had issues with panic attacks and anxiety, but this was so much worse.

Thursday night of the week before last, I was sitting on the balcony staring at the trees.  I had posted on Facebook in a rare bout of honesty about my lack of emotions and how much it was scaring me.  It was about 8:00.  Suddenly, like someone outside of myself had said it, I thought I should kill myself.  It was so clinical.  It felt so logical:  this will never get better, and you’re not a person anymore, so this is what you should do.  I swear to god it felt like a doctor was telling me to do it.  And unlike usual when this makes me panic and reach out for help, I just thought, “Oh, yeah, that makes sense.”  So I was musing about the best way to do it, and wondering if I should leave a note to explain or something.

My phone rang.

People don’t call me.  I barely answer the phone even if they do; I just like texting better.  But my phone rang, and it was my dear friend Amy, and my instinct was to not answer but something made me take the call.

Amy saved my life that night, without even realizing she was doing it.  I will always be grateful to her for that.

I called my psychiatrist at Amy’s behest the next day.  It was Friday, and I woke up late, so I called late and he didn’t call me back.  I had a whole weekend to get through.  By the end of the weekend, thankfully, I was starting to feel a little more like myself.  I still wasn’t having appropriate emotional reactions to things, but I wasn’t quite so empty.  However, the bouts of hysteria were getting worse.  My roommate washed a raw piece of chicken in the sink, and I freaked out so bad about salmonella that I actually threw up.  Wain swallowed an aluminum piece of tassel and I stayed up the entire night watching him to see if he died from it.  And on, and on, and on.  

Monday, my psychiatrist’s secretary called and said he wanted to see me immediately.  He got me in that day, which is highly unusual because he books up weeks in advance.  A small part of me thought, wow, it must be really bad if he’s doing all this.  I went in at 5:00.  I told him start to finish everything that was happening.  He did not take me off the lithium, which really surprised me.  However, he pointed out that I have been on an anti-psychotic for years, and now I am suddenly not on one, which explains the anxiety and panic and hysteria.  He put me on rxsperadol which will, I hope, in time, even this shit out.

I have only been on the new medication for five days.  I KNOW that.  I KNOW that meds take like four to six weeks to kick in.  But I guess I was just hoping that this would be some miracle that would cure me immediately and give me some damn relief.

It has not.

I actually feel like it has gotten worse, not better.  Vel ate a plum with a bad spot on it and I had to leave the room.  We announced that we are moving to Chicago in March and suddenly all the things that could possibly go wrong with that plan were all I could think about.  Last night, the hysteria was the worst it’s ever gotten.  It was the middle of the night and Vel was working a double shift so I was alone and suddenly I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t stop crying, couldn’t calm myself down.  It felt like it went on forever.  It’s all kind of a jumble in my memory now, but I know that I sat on the balcony for hours.  I know that I put a desperate post on Facebook and my aunt messaged me to tell me to call the National Suicide Prevention hotline, which I did.  The person I spoke to told me to do yoga.  At 4:00 I was collected enough to go inside and go to bed, but even with Haby and Thatcher snuggling with me, I couldn’t fall asleep until about 7:00.  

Well, that’s about as bad as it can get, I thought to myself when I woke up this afternoon.  Surely now that I have gotten that out of my system, I will have a calm day.  Ha!  Ha ha ha ha ha!  Get a grip, Aaz.  You know the universe is never that kind to you.  I was on the balcony drinking coffee and posting the last act of my story on Ao3 and suddenly I had a massive panic attack.  I have no idea what set me off.  It started with the chest pains that I immediately thought indicated a heart attack.  But then my jaw locked up and my shoulders locked up and I knew it was just another fucking panic attack.  At least I didn’t waste my money going to the ER this time.  I was texting my mom when it happened and she called me and talked to me while it went on.  How long ago was that?  Three hours?  Four hours?  I don’t even know, but I do know that my jaw only stopped being locked about half an hour ago.  

I am tired, mentally and physically, and I am frustrated, and I feel like the equivalent of nails scratching down a chalkboard.

Worst of all (best of all…?), the support I have gotten is incredible.  It makes me wish I had reached out sooner, when all this started in March.  But I was so embarrassed and I was so scared of my coworkers finding out what was going on that I said nothing save to a handful of close friends for two months.  I don’t know what prompted me to start being honest.  But once I started to talk about what’s happening, people just poured out of the woodwork with support.  It has been, well, a little overwhelming.  And I’m trying not to let guilt get the best of me.  I hate worrying people.  I hate making people upset.  I hate that I have nothing to offer anyone in return because I just don’t have the spoons for it.  

“If you didn’t have anything to offer, why do you think we’d be fighting for you, for fun?”  Vel said that last night.

But there’s that little voice that keeps saying that I’m not worth anyone’s concern, and all I will do is hurt everyone in the end when I inevitably kill myself.  Better to fade away into the background so less people are upset when I die.  Yes, I really think that.  Yes, I still am convinced that suicide is going to be the way I inevitably die.  I don’t know if it will be tomorrow or six months from now or in ten years, but I know that one day I will stop fighting and just do it.  It’s so exhausting to keep fighting.  I just don’t know if I have the energy for it anymore.

There has been one good thing that has happened in the past two weeks.  I wrote a story!  It’s just a dumb fan fiction but it ended up being 42,000 words and I wrote it in six days.  It turned out pretty well, actually.  I am happy with it, and it is very, very rare that I say that.  You know I haven’t written anything since 2017?  That blows my mind.  It was therapeutic.  I have another couple ideas for more stories, but we’ll see if I can get myself together enough to write any of them.

I’m so tired.  My head hurts.  It’s cold outside but I am afraid to go inside because it always feels like the walls are closing in on me.  But my cats are there, so that might win out.  We’ll see.

[mingyaus]

Words: 2k 

Genre: Crack and friendship fluff

Characters: Mainly Jimin and Taehyung, but ot 7

Summary: Camping in the PNW for Tae’s b-day. 

Deeper, deeper, the wound just gets deeper

No one meant for this to happen. It was an honest mistake.

Taehyung knows that that, but Jimin just can’t accept Tae’s forgiveness and continues whining about his guilt as Taehyung sits on a log slightly annoyed 40% because of Jimin’s unending sobs and 60% because an unusually sharp branch has been lodged into his forearm. They got it out, but now the wound is bleeding. Jimin tripped and fell on top of Taehyung who fell and used his arm to soften the landing on the oddly sharp branch.

The younger boy groans as he tries to avoid looking at the blood flowing down his arm, instead he turns his focus to Jimin who is kneeling on the ground in front of Tae with his head quite literally in the dirt. Jimin continues to sob and shake and bow and after ten more minutes Tae has had enough.

“Get up and help me!” Tae growled, allowing his annoyance to overcome him. Jimin quickly scrambled to his feet and begins to take off his shirt. “WhaT ARE YOU DOING? JIMIN! THIS ISN’T ONE OF THOSE OVERLY FAN-SERVICEY DANCE PERFORMANCES I KNOW YOU DO ON CAMPUS SOMETIMES, THIS IS MY ARM. IT’S GUSHING OUT BLOOD. DO SOMETHING OR FIND SOMEONE WHO CAN ACTUALLY HELP ME.”

“A-ah! I’m sorry. I thought I could use my shirt as a tourniquet! Uh, but it might actually be more helpful if I find someone because I’m not an actual doctor and I can’t help and--ah gosh diddly darn I feel so bad and I want to help and, hm, maybe I should become a doctor?” As Jimin continues to ramble, and he moves his fingers away from the hem of his henley long-sleeve and sets his hand against his smooth chin then taps a finger on his lips. “Oh speaking of doctors, you know Jin our friend the doctor? I think he’s staying at the campsite right next to ours, oop–“

“THEN GET HIM!” Taehyung nearly screams. The pain is becoming unbearable. It’s like nails on a chalkboard, if the nails had been torn off whatever demon was scratching the board and the nails were lodged nearly an inch into Tae’s arm as the nail-less demon grabs the chalkboard off the wall and continually hits Tae’s arm with it. All that pain bundled into one.

Jimin, with his hand on his lips and wide eyes gets up and scurries off to find Jin.

Despite Tae feeling all the pain, he maintains a calm exterior. His nestles his chin on the palm of his right, uninjured arm.

Why did he even agree to go on this camping trip? Especially now, it’s winter and it’s not snowing, but it feels like it should be. He’d much rather be somewhere in Europe shopping at brand name stores, not here in the woods of the Pacific Northwest with Jimin, the one who suggested they go on the trip to celebrate Taehyung’s birthday. But how could Tae say no? He really didn’t want to spend the day alone.

Two weeks earlier, Tae and his friends met up for brunch and apparently everyone (except for Jimin) had something going on. Yoongi, Hoseok, Namjoon, and Jungkook (the fresh out of college assistant) were to have a business meeting in Canada as part of the boys’ PI company named Cypher. Jin said he had something going on and rushed off because of some emergency doctor call--Tae never found out why he couldn’t come. So Tae had to cancel his plans to visit his favorite buffet in Las Vegas and three days ago he accepted Jimin’s camping offer because he didn’t want to be alone.

“Oh dear, that looks really bad. Good” Jin calmly strolls right up to Taehyung and takes his arm. He gives it a quick once-over and pulls out his phone. “Thank God the genius named Kim Seokjin decided to get an extended data plan because now I can call 911 to get you some real help. While I’m doing this, Jimin, can you please get something to help me clean off all that blood?”

“I have some bandanas in my bag,” Taehyung says to Jimin before he can start pulling his shirt off again. Meanwhile, Jin dials.

Now, they’re at the edge of the forest right by the entrance at 3 pm, though it looks more like dusk because they’re in a forest and it’s winter. The trees cover the sun as Jimin compresses an ice pack they found from friendly backpackers onto Taehyung’s now somewhat clean and covered wound.

It takes the emergency vehicle twenty more minutes to arrive and Jin is low key furious at their tardiness especially since it’s Taehyung’s birthday. He is soon calmed when the first responder praises the handiwork done on the arm.

“It’s still a good idea to bring him in though. Just to check for an infection. It took you how long before cleaning the wound?”

“Uh-“ Jimin starts bowing his head in shame.

“Fifteen minutes max. It’s fine, Jimin, you eventually got help.” Tae smiles and pats his friend’s back. Jimin looks up with a newfound brightness in his eyes.

As they continue the thirty-minute commute to the hospital, Jin flirts with both the driving and non-driving paramedics while Jimin is furiously texting on his phone. Tae doesn’t bother asking what Jimin is doing because the last time Tae tried inquiring about the older’s phone, Jimin pounced on him. And that was this morning and Jimin’s been acting suspicious all day.

Tae really wants to ask Jin why his plans suddenly went away and he ended up camping right next to them. And also why didn’t Jin tell him that? If Tae knew Jin had the day off then the three of them could have gone to Las Vegas together.

“We’re here.” The driving paramedic says as they all pull up to the hospital’s entrance. He’s also giggling at some joke Jin probably just said. The three men get off and walk into the emergency room.

“Ah, it feels just like the workplace.” Jin says with a smile.

“Speaking of work, why are--” Taehyung begins, and suddenly Jimin who is no longer furiously texting, points to the front desk.

“They want you, Tae.”

“Oh, okay.” And Tae walks over to the front with his friends following.

“Jin, they said it’s fineeee. We don’t have to stay here any longer, can we just check into a hotel and stay there for the night?” Taehyung rolls his eyes at Jin who is pestering at Taehyung to wait a little longer because there may be side effects from his antibiotics.

“No, no please, just a few minutes, pleaseee,” Jimin butts in. He’s begging again, but without tears in his eyes this time.

“What is up with you today? First, you drag me to the forest and then Jin shows up and then you’re texting non-stop on the way over here?” Taehyung harshly whispers. He’s trying to be quiet mainly because of the strangely high amount of babies in the waiting room. The three are standing by the door next to the seating area. Taehyung can smell the coffee and it’s fueling his growing annoyance toward Jimin.

“Ugh, okay!” Jimin throws his hands up and sighs. He’s being quite dramatic and it’s shushed anyone passing through the waiting room area. “Today is your birthday. We know that and I was trying to surprise you. I was acting weird because I don’t like keeping secrets from you. Jin’s here because I made him take the day off--”

“Also, I found out they haven’t been paying me properly for all the overtime. Ugh, hospital management, they’re so--” Jimin nudges at Jin and the older boy smiles widely at Taehyung. “And, of course, I love you, bro!” Jin hugs Tae who lets out a quiet groan from the pain in his forearm.

“Yeah, so Jin’s here yay!” Jimin says. “And I was texting because…” Jimin pauses for a few seconds while staring at the emergency room door.

“What?” Taehyung asks. He’s slightly smiling now. Any annoyance he felt earlier has been melted away. Taehyung wants to hug Jimin too, but he wants to know the rest of the plans first.

“Ah, never mind. I wanted them to walk through the doors with their fancy suits and combed back hair, ah they look so cool in their PI formal outfits. Anyways, Cypher plus Jungkook is supposed to drop by. Their trip turned out to be in Vancouver, and I probably should’ve just driven us up there from California, but I didn’t want to make the surprise too obvious because I knew you knew they’re up in Canada. Also, you mentioned you’ve never been to the Pacific Northwest. And Jin’s new job is in Seattle because as you know his dream job is to work here like a Gray’s Anatomy doc--”

Taehyung silenced his friend by squeezing him into another tight hug not caring about the slight pain. Jimin’s smiling and Taehyung’s smiling, even Jin is smiling while staring at the younger boys’ sweet embrace. Jin soon joins in and then another warm body enters the hug circle and another and another and Taehyung looks up expecting to see one of the onlookers joining in, but it’s not.

“Taehyung, surprise!” Hoseok smiles brightly while backing out of the hugging circle. The other two Cypher boys line up on Hoseok’s sides. They could kind of look like Charlie’s angels if they stood together properly. Their outfits are perfect for that look because they bought them out of an LA thrift shop Taehyung suggested.

“Happy birthday, man.” Suga walks up to Taehyung and does that cool handshake-hug while gracefully avoiding the injured arm.

“Heard about the arm, I’m glad you got some help.” Namjoon gives another hug, and he grazes Taehyung’s arm slightly.

“Where’s Jungkook?” Taehyung asks looking around. He’s glad his other friends are here, but everything’s saucier with the youngest boy around.

“He couldn’t make it,” Namjoon says solemnly.

“HAHA! JK I’m here!” Jin’s laughing the hardest at the sight of Jungkook’s meme-like expression and crab-like gait as Jungkook walks into the area holding a red velvet cake in one hand and trying to hold seven birthday hats steady on top of his head. The laughing from all seven boys prompts the head nurse to kick them out, and the three end up at a nearby park. It’s freezing, but Taehyung is happy. He’s with his closest friends and that beats any fancy shopping trip to Europe.

A/N: the ending feels kinda rushed and I’m not super happy about the way I wrote Jimin (my actual ult, why do I write him so badly??), like he pulls through in the end, but yah he seems really childish in the beginning. It’s kinda cute though?? Also this was just supposed to be less than 2k, but oops got carried away. 

Main divider cred.

Anyways, happy birthday to my official BTS bias wrecker Kim Taehyung. He’s a complex, wonderful, funny man. Tae, I’m glad you’re a part of my life and I hope you are happy today and even when times are tough know that there are a lotta happy days too. <3 admin aye