#finally wearing something blue again ♥-♥

[formylovetodaryldixon]

"Marley's stickers." Daryl Dixon Imagine.

After returning from a supply run with stickers for his daughter, Daryl is no longer sure if giving them to Marley was a good idea when he finds his crossbow covered in them, especially when he has to leave again with his group.

@eline720: Allright. I see you write with a daughter. Can i please have a one shot when the daughter of Daryl have find stickers. And Daryl searches for his crossbow. Only to find it full of stickers on it. And then the daughter comes in with even more stickers but didn't see Daryl. I find it cute. But i can't write. So thank you so much if ur gonna do it :)

A/N: Hey, Love! Thank you so much for your request. I didn't have internet when I wrote it and I only read your request once, so it's not exactly how you asked :( but I REALLY hope you like it! Thanks♥

The first airs of spring enter the house the moment Daryl closes the door of his home.

He had been out of Alexandria for 3 days on the almost last supply run: there was one more on the south and that would be it. Sitting in the living room next to her mom, Marley jumps off the couch the moment her blue eyes meet her daddy's, a smile growing on her little face that her dad returns. She is about to be 5 years old, and is easy for Daryl to pick her up in his arms the second she reaches him. Marley practically presses her entire little body against her daddy's, her arms around his neck in a tight hug. For a moment, they stay like that in silence, letting the warmth of their embrace speak for them first, before telling each other how much they had missed each other.

When Marley finally pulls away a little bit to look at Daryl, he smiles the second she kisses his nose, something he did all the time as Marley grew up.

“I missed ya so much, angel.” Daryl uses one hand to push back an obstinate strand of his daughter's hair which almost always fell towards her face, looking into her eyes. “Did ya miss daddy?”

“I missed you so much, daddy.” Marley nods, pouting in her brave attempt not to cry when two nights ago, a nightmare woke her up and he wasn't there. “You will have to leave again?”

Daryl can see the sadness on his daughter's face as he walks to sit on the couch next to you, leaving on the floor his backpack and the crossbow that he held in one of the straps before sitting his daughter on his lap.

"Jus’ one more time, okay, angel? Then ya, me and Mommy can stay home all day. I'll finally let her teach me how to make those brownies ya love so much."

"But you'll have to wear the apron and everything." You try not to smile too much, but you love the way Marley's face lights up at his words. "You know, so you can get the full experience."

“Fine.” Daryl says with a slight hint of false annoyance, but he leans forward to kiss your cheek in greeting before turning his attention back to Marley. "I found some things for ya, angel. I even found some books without pictures for mommy."

“Boring!” She says giggling, but making a face she learned from her daddy.

In response, you wrinkle your nose.

"I gave birth to you but sometimes I don't recognize you as my daughter, baby."

Marley laughs, and it is a sweet and a warm sound that makes Daryl smile as he uses one hand to open his backpack and grab the things he found at a paper store. It is a book with pictures for children, some boxes of colors and sheets of stickers of cartoon animals, some with positive little messages, and when Daryl hands them to her, Marley smiles, her lips curling upward.

“I love them!” She has to tilt her head back a little to look him in the eyes, earning a kiss on the cheek that makes her giggle again. “Thank you, daddy. You are the best!”

She slides off his lap to go to the dining table behind the couch, leaving the two of you for a moment, but when your eyes meet, you chuckle.

“When we met, you swore you didn't love anyone and look at you now: you are a big softie for your daughter.”

Daryl chuckles, too.

“Dun get jealous, woman. Ya know I love ya too.” His fingers catch your chin in a gentle grip as he leans forward. Daryl presses a kiss on your lips, resting his forehead against yours for a moment. “I missed ya too, Mrs. Dixon. All of ya.”

You let out a soft giggle, loving the fact that you are a Dixon too.

“I missed you too, love.” You pull away slowly. "I'll get the food ready, okay? Marley didn't want to eat dinner until you arrived."

Daryl nods as you get up, getting up as well to walk towards his daughter. Marley is painting, with some colors scattered close to her, and she giggles when he picks her up again, sitting in the chair with her on his legs because Daryl knows she loves when he paints with her. And after a while when they finish the first picture, Marley pulls off a sticker of a yellow fox holding a sign: you did it! and sticks it on his vest at the height of his heart.

Daryl hides his smile, frowning playfully.

“You did it, Daryl Dixon.” She smiles. “You did a very good job.”

“Did he?” You joke the moment you put two plates on the table. “It seems a bit messy to me.”

"What? Ya’re crazy, woman, this is a masterpiece." Daryl looks at you as if you've gone really crazy or don't know how to appreciate art. "We should replace Marley’s drawin’ on the fridge and put mine up."

“No!” Marley frowns too. "Now I don't think you deserve the sticker, daddy."

“Hey!” Daryl covers it with his hand when she tries to take it back. “Ya gave it to me, young lady. S’daddy’s now.”

Marley giggles, forgetting the matter quickly.

When dinner is over, Daryl holds his daughter’s hand as they walk up the stairs towards the second floor to get Marley ready for bed. He does it alone to make up for the days and nights he had lost with her, finally tucking her in before telling her one of those stories about he and Uncle Merle playing when they were kids. Marley grew up loving Uncle Merle, and although she didn't know he was a jerk most of the time, Daryl knew his brother would have loved his niece.

Waking up the next morning, the sunlight in that warm season of the year bathes the place and the white walls, and finding himself alone, Daryl rubs his face with one hand, pushing some strands of his brown and long hair out of his face in the way. But the moment he stretches out his arm, Daryl can feel something sticky against his bare chest: and when he slightly raises his head to look down, he frowns as he sees a lot of stickers around his tattoo. So he just chuckles, putting his head back in the pillow.

And when Daryl walks into the kitchen; you're eating a strawberry while making breakfast as he finishes buttoning his shirt up.

“I think I’m gettin’ old, peach.” His voice is deeper in the morning, and you chuckle as he passes you by, kissing you first.

“Why?”

“I used to be a light sleeper ‘fore we had Marley, and now I can't feel when our daughter decides to put stickers on ma body while I'm sleepin’.”

You laugh.

“Where?”

“Around the tattoo on ma chest. Had to check that she didn't put ‘em on ma back too.”

You're smiling, loving the situation too much.

“But you pulled them off, right?”

Daryl clears his throat, watching the kitchen clock.

“I’m gotta get ma stuff from the garage. Told Rick we’re leavin’ before 10.” He walks the other way, leaving the room towards the garage that is behind the dining room. The hallway the connects the two parts of the house is empty until Marley walks from the other side, hiding her hands behind her back. "What are ya doin’ in the garage, lil’ mouse?"

Her hair is a little bit messy in the mornings, and Daryl smiles as he watches it.

“Nothin’, daddy.” Marley smiles back, surrounding him without turning her back on him. “Love you!”

The moment she reaches the door, she runs back to her mom, leaving Daryl alone as he walks into the room. He learned to put his stuff on the highest shelves when Marley was a baby, and although you two never left her alone in that place, now she had learned not to go near the tools, but when Daryl finally gets to the place where he had put his crossbow last night, not so high this time, he has to close his eyes for a moment.

He's not upset, just... embarrassed.

Daryl takes the crossbow, putting one of his backpack’s strap around his shoulder before walking back into the living room. The moment he takes a step into the room, he can see Marley sitting on the chair next to the table, but when you look up, you have to cover your mouth with one hand, eyes slightly open in surprise: the crossbow is full of colorful stickers, all over it.

“Marley Rose Dixon, care to explain this?”

His voice is always deep, and even though that is the first time Daryl has used his daughter's full name, she looks back at him, eyes smiling because she wasn't even the slightest bit afraid of her daddy, no matter how serious he gets.

"Last night you said that when an object has only one color it was okay for me to color it, daddy."

Daryl sighs.

“I meant the pictures on yer book, Marley. Not daddy’s stuff.”

Marley looks confused, and you rub your face with one hand, trying to kill a laugh.

“I can take them off. It will only be a few minutes.”

Daryl scratches his forehead, not ready to face the jokes and laughter that were to come from Rick and Glenn as he comes closer to you.

“S’okay. I’m runnin’ late anyways.” He holds the back of your head with one hand, pressing a kiss on your lips. “Ya can laugh after I’m gone.”

You nod, closing your mouth when he dares to slap your butt playfully, kneeling next in front of Marley to look into her eyes.

“Ya can put all the stickers ya want on daddy’s chest, but not on his stuff. Okay, ma lil’ angel?” He says softly, smiling when she smiles back. “Good. Now give me a hug.”

Marley wraps her arms around his neck, his free hand hugging her small body.

"Please take care, daddy. I love you."

“Love ya too, baby.”

Daryl kisses her cheek, getting up to leave his home once last time. The sun is warm on the exposed skin from his sleeveless shirt, but the moment he reaches Alexandria gate where one member of his family is waiting next to the passenger door of the truck, Glenn has to cover his mouth in shock, trying really hard not to laugh.

“Shut up.” Daryl says, almost threatening like when they met in Atlanta.

Glenn bites his lips, raising hands in a sign of peace.

“Now I love my little Marley even more.” He says after a few seconds, but hearing his niece’s name, Rick walks around the truck, laughing in surprise, so loudly when he sees Daryl's crossbow in his hand, so much so that he has to put his hands on his knees. “Wait! How is it that Rick can laugh?”

Daryl narrows his eyes at Rick, hating him for a moment. But ignoring the laughter, Daryl opens the passenger door and puts his things on the floor before climbing in, closing it with a little more force than necessary.

“Are ya done? I got a lil’ girl at home, ya dickfaces. Now let’s go ‘fore I shoot an arrow at yer faces.”

Rick has to put a hand on his chest to calm down, walking around the truck to get inside while Glenn does the same thing on the seat behind them. A man in charge of the gate opens it for the small group, and as the truck moves down the road, Daryl looks outside the window, waiting for the moment when he could return to his girls, no matter what jokes he had to endure first.

@fluffy-dixon

[misty-moth]

Fashionably late Rio fic for his birthday

૮ ꈍﻌ ꈍა♥~(˘ ε˘ )

This takes place when he had only recently met Mc and was therefore a very grumpy puppy 😅 I shall write sweet/precious Rio at some point, but that day is not today

Divider

Rio’s pov, Rio x mc (she/her pronouns), ~640 words, fluffyyyyy~

The eerie quiet at breakfast was my first sign. A worrisome sign. An accurate sign.

“Hey Rio, when’s your birthday?” I was steadily growing accustomed to my new roommate, and I could tell that she had been silently debating asking me something this morning… but why this?

“You know I don't remember my name, right?” Just like I knew that snapping at her wouldn’t dissuade her.

“Well, it would feel weird if we never celebrated it. It doesn’t have to be a grand event, even, just the basics!” She beamed at me, her smile always a little too bright. “Maybe we could go with the day we found you?”

“I'd rather not celebrate or concentrate on that day. It isn’t exactly a great first memory,” I grumbled, doing my damnedest to only let grumpiness show.

“Hmm…” her morning’s look of pondering returned. I swear you could read every thought crossing her mind, and it never failed to make me frustrated… and nervous.

“Give me a week. How does Friday for your birthday sound?”

So incredibly easy to read while impossibly difficult to understand.

~~~

So I guess today is my birthday.

“Here, Rio! I asked the baker ahead of time to make a variety of treats to try!”

“Thank you…” honestly, everything she had ever chosen to eat ended up being delicious. She was fairly accurate in finding things I like far faster than I did, though that may be because I wasn’t trying.

“I got you a gift, too,” she smiled a little shyly as she rummaged in her bag.

“You already gave me a name and a birthday,” I was starting to worry as she brought out a sizable bundle.

“It’s a new coat! I figured you could use a nice one while it’s still so rainy,” she held it out to me firmly, but her cheeks were tinged red.

“Mr. Akatsuki gave me the coat I’m wearing now. Does he need it back?”

She frowned. “Well, no. That’s yours, too. And it looks great on you, but I think this color really suits you.”

“Well…” her hand hadn’t wavered, but I watched her eyebrows crease. “Thank you. But I’m wearing a coat now, so—“

“Then I’ll trade you! Try this on!” Now that she mentioned it, she wasn’t wearing a coat and today was hardly a day to go without. It seems she’s getting accustomed to her new roommate, too.

Well played.

I shrugged out of the dark blue coat her boss had lended— err, given me, and I handed it over to exchange. The coat she handed me was a warmer brown, small detailing of orange and gold accenting the pockets and collar. Even trusting her choices on things I’d like, this was a tough sell.

I slowly put it on before glancing up to ask why the bright colors, but I froze.

Her eyes were already on mine, her blush far darker than last I saw it, and she was swathed in… my coat. She looked like she was suppressing a smile, though I wish she wouldn’t…

I was suddenly feeling too warm, though it was coming from deep within my chest. I also felt it rising to my cheeks.

Her brow began to furrow again, getting even further away from the smile I—

“What is it?” Ugh, why do I sound so tense?

“If you want this one back, it’s okay.” She was smiling the wrong smile.

I shook my head firmly. “Keep it.”

Her eyes widened. “Rio, this is yours, too. You don't have to choose.”

“You asked for a trade and I agreed to it. It was a verbal agreement, but an agreement no less. If that doesn’t cut it, consider it my one birthday wish.” She looked ready to argue, so I softly interjected with the truth. “It looks great on you, too.”

Her final gift to me was easily my favorite: her too-bright smile.

The inspo for this came from wondering if he celebrated his birthday twice a year after he gets his memory back. He still prefers “Rio” so I can see him preferring MC’s given birthday, too 🥹

Writing Masterlist

[cassandthings]

Adalynn has a crisis of faith after Mystra demands Gales life as penance, and Astarion realizes he's losing his grip on his careful plan.

Read below or on AO3 ♥

--

It’s not often that Astarion finds himself taken by surprise. He’s come to know their little group quite well in the time they’ve been together.

He knows their dinner habits, their nighttime routines. Knows that Gale is usually the first to sleep, and Lae’zel the last.

Knows that Adalynn typically whispers a prayer to her Goddess before curling up to sleep, often sharing her pack with Scratch, or Hoot. Or occasionally himself, on the nights that she’s offered him blood.

So he is surprised, tonight, to find her bedroll empty of all but a snoozing dog and cub, tucked together in such a way as to suggest the tiefling had been there, in the middle.

Anyone else, he tells himself, he wouldn’t have gone looking. Wouldn’t have tracked the faint footsteps through the sparse woods at the edge of the cliff, headed toward the overlook and the rickety old cart that served as transport down to the Monastery.

Even as he tracks her, he tells himself he's only going because she is a willing blood source. One of the strongest members of their party.

Not because he cares. Not because her smile chisels at the ice around his heart with every day that goes by.

Certainly not because her touch warms him, in a way he doesn’t find himself flinching from - a touch he finds himself wanting, beyond that initial rendezvous in the woods, that initial seduction.

No no. None of that.

“You know, Darling, I thought I was supposed to be the sneaky one.” he says when he finds her, crouched near the edge of the final cliff leading to the cart, brows lifted in curiosity. “Yet the others are all sleeping like babes, and here you are, surprising me again.”

Adalynn snorts, a sound he’s become familiar with as one of reluctant amusement, glancing back at him over her shoulder. She’s carrying her mace, but not wearing any armor - part of how she’d been so stealthy, he realizes. The red of her shirt should stand out, yet somehow she blends perfectly into her surroundings, the only part of her that shows the bright blue of her eyes.

“I need to check something out, back at the Monastery.” she says, voice soft but firm. “There’s… something pulling at me. It’s hard to explain.”

“Is it the worm?”

“No. Something else.” Adalynn glances at him again, that same glowing blue, and says “Go back, or come with me, Astarion. But I’m going.”

There’s the barest hint of a plea in her words, the slightest request. And were it anyone else, or even a week ago, Astarion would have scoffed and turned around.

And yet. And yet.

“Alright, well, if we get killed by whatever it is that’s calling you, don’t blame me.” he says, and her expression shifts in the dark, lips turning just slightly up.

It’s enough to knock him off balance again, covering it with a cough as the tiefling leaps down to the ledge below, forcing him to jump after her.

Adalynn is quiet as they clamber into the cart, and Astarion takes the time to watch her, looking for anything off.

She seems pensive, and has since Elminster showed up at their camp earlier in the day - declaring Mystra’s penance for Gale, and his way of atoning.

Mystra. He realizes, eyes narrowing on the tiefling. Who was also Adalynn’s Goddess, though of a different sort.

Neither speaks as they reach the other side of the cliff, walking quietly back through the lower halls of the Monastery and the now empty Creche Y’llek. The halls are still littered with the bodies of the Githyanki that had tried to slaughter them, blood strewn on floors and walls, and something inside of him thinks good.

They had tried to slay Lae’zel, when she had believed they would cure her - they deserved worse than they got.

“I always thought I was special, you know. Like Gale.”

Astarion’s gaze shot back to the tiefling, brows raised. “I’m sorry, dear?”

“I was touched by magic, when I was young. Healing magic, but my parents always thanked Mystra, because there was a touch of divine there, too.” Adalynn’s focus is still on the path ahead, leading them back through the twisting paths and into the Inquisitor’s Chambers, “I’ve prayed to her all these years. Prayed to a Goddess that takes advantage of young people and twists them to do her will.”

He can’t quite hold back a wince, though he does bite his tongue. What can he say, truly? From all he’s heard of the Goddess, he’s not exactly a fan, either. Not when her solution to Gale’s problem had been blow yourself up.

And if her claws were in Adalynn, too… he didn’t like the thought of that.

“You sound as though you’ve made a decision.” he says instead, careful, watching her posture as she walks - heading for a back room they hadn’t bothered with, before, moving right past a fancy casket in the middle.

“I can’t follow a Goddess who would throw someone away like that.” Adalynn steps up to one of two statues in the room, glancing it over with a frown, “And I think… I think another God has been calling to me. Ever since we stepped into this Monastery.”

Astarion vaguely recalls the emblems and notations around the place, the broken statues and plaques - and the crest they had found, earlier in the day, before all of the nonsense with the Creche.

“You’re switching Gods?”

Adalynn steps up to the statue, takes hold of it, and pushes with a grunt. “I’m going to try.”

The statue resists for a moment before turning with a click, and he really shouldn’t be surprised, but somehow he is when the wall opens, light pulsing from within.

And that part of him that’s getting too close, too attached, too comfortable makes him step forward, flashing her a cheeky grin as he mounts the step.

“Let me check for traps first, Darling.” he says, all charm and guile, “It would be a shame for you to get all the way here, just to trip on a wire.”

Adalynn pauses, then smiles, and it’s another crack in his wall of ice.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There are traps, and Astarion is able to disable them all before they can do any harm to the tiefling following slowly behind.

Soon enough they reach a cavernous room with mechanical rings beyond them, and he allows Adalynn to lead the way, wholly unsure and somewhat concerned.

There is something present in the room, some feeling of other that brushes over his senses, and it’s all he can do to keep from backing away as she walks calmly to the center.

The console rises to meet her, almost sensing her, and Adalynn places the crest into a waiting slot - one that triggers another console to rise, bearing a gift.

A mace, but one that’s glowing, giving off that same sense of other - of divine. And when Adalynn reaches out to grasp its handle, the thing gives off such a bright wave of light that Astarion winces and looks away, worried for a moment that his sunlight immunity has been banished.

It hasn’t, and when he can see again he looks back to the tiefling, catches her in time to see her dropping her old mace and strapping the new one to her back in its place, an aura of radiance about her.

And if he had been awed, secretly, by her before, he is wholly unprepared for this Adalynn. This woman he wants to know, after so many years of lying and games.

This Adalynn who finally looks complete, once more smiling, reaching for his hand as she passes him, leading him back out the way they came.

And it’s only once they’ve made it back across the chasm, and are climbing up the pathways and cliffs again in the faint morning light, that Astarion catches sight of the statue bearing the Gods name.

One that now seems to smile, as Adalynn passes with the mace.

Lathander, the Morninglord.

Astarion pauses at the base of it, only long enough to stare up at the statue's face and then down at the plaque, before catching up to the tiefling.

Thinking, quietly, May you be a better patron to Adalynn then the last. She suits the light.

[cosmicfortuna]

𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒔

I wrote this for my school newspaper a while ago and wanted to post it on here. It's based off of Christina Perri's "A Thousand Years" because why not and covers the story of two immoral lovers finally reuniting after hundreds of years.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡♥︎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━

Her breath hitched. 

It was him. 

She was sure of it. The pounding in her chest was proof enough. 

She thought she was seeing things when she saw him standing outside the building but indeed, it was him, standing under an illuminated street lamp. 

He looked beautiful, so inhumanly beautiful. His dark hair and pale skin glowed almost otherworldly under the moonlight. His sweet dark brown eyes flickering back and forth between people inside the café before they fall upon her.

She quickly moved her gaze back to the steaming cup of hot cocoa. Even though her cup of hot chocolate was steaming hot, she felt cold. It was winter, sure, and the café didn’t have really good heating but she felt a deep rooted coldness. Maybe hollow was the right word. Yes. Hollow. Like a hollowed out tree that was once home to bird and woodland rodents only for said critters to suddenly leave one day.  

She returned her gaze to the man outside. Snow started to gently fall, slowly building on his shoulders. He wasn't dressed for the weather, not like it affected him anyway. He wore a white ruffled shirt underneath a leather jacket and a pair of black pants with a belted corset. Her eyes grew sad. 

If memory served her right (which it usually did), he used to wear that outfit whenever he had a meeting with what he called the “vampiric nannies”. At the time, she disagreed with the term as she was practically raised by nannies as a half-blooded orphan. Her opinion had changed since then. Those “nannies” were the reason that the two of them were separated by a glass window of a human cafe. 

Why come back now? 

That was a silly question. She knew why. 

She stared at him for a while, then moved back to her lukewarm coffee. A queasy feeling built up in her stomach. Something inside her wanted to go outside. To him. But she couldn't. Something else inside her stirred. What was it? Fear? Nervousness? A mix of the two. 

She searched for him again. 

Still there. She thought.

The two locked eyes. Her heart throbbed at the sight of his pitifully, pained expression. Like he also wanted to jump through the window and hold her close. His shoulders dropped before turning to walk away. The ache in her heart grew.

No, not this time. 

Alice leapt from the booth and rushed out the door, the bell ringing sporadically. By the time she was outside, he had already disappeared. 

Soojin… 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡♥︎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━

It had been too long since they last saw each other. How long exactly? If he had to guess, probably a few centuries. The world had changed so much in that time. But her? She was still as beautiful as ever. Her soft, tawny, deer-like face was the same as he remembered; along with those sweet baby blue doe eyes. The only thing that really changed was her hair color. The familiar soft pinks were gone, leaving her acorn brown twists with the faintest hint of blonde streaks. 

He gazed at her longingly from the roof. She had already run out of the cafe and was now searching for him. His expression grew pitiful.

Here he was after who knows how many years separated from the love of his eternal life and yet, here he was on the roof like a scared cat. Scared of what though? Rejection? He couldn’t imagine her not feeling numb after the time spent apart. No, the pounding in his chest denied it. He knew better than to think differently of his love. 

His attention went back to the lost girl. Her shoulders began to shrug then she turned her back towards him. 

No. he thought. Never again.

Soojin had delayed this reunion for far too long. 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡♥︎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━

What’s the point? Alice thought sorrowfully. Maybe I’ve finally lost it.

As soon as she turned her back to the restaurant, she heard a familiar yet distant voice.

“Hey, Bunny.” it whispered. 

Hope hopped back into her heart.

“Jinnie?” She turned around, face to face with the man she'd yearned for. Alice could feel tears start to sting her eyes. 

“I… I’m not seeing things am I?” her voice trembled as she reached out to him. 

Soojin’s hand met hers, interlacing their fingers. His face was less gloomy and filled with life. 

Smiling, he spoke, “Last I checked, I’m real.” He pulled her into his arms. 

Despite the falling snow around them and the frosty wind, she felt scolding hot. Finally after years of separation and heartache, Soojin allowed a few tears to fall atop Alice’s head as she released all of the pent up emotion of the last few centuries on his shoulder. 

With a finger, Soojin tilted up her chin; sky blue meeting the brown earth once again. Love and eagerness filled their tears as they both went in for a long awaited kiss. Their hearts beating wildly and in-sync. 

[unladielike]

@spiritpyro​

Since Vivian wasn’t awake at the time to receive her ‘special gifts’ Hayate had already set up everything for today. He always let her sleep in whenever her birthday would come around ( because why not, he usually has her awake to at least eat something then she could go back to sleep afterwards ), and now he’s over here adding the last finishing touches to the crocheted butterfly. This time it was… bigger. The size of a pillow, probably. Hayate had started working on this weeks ago while Vivian wasn’t present in the house, he just wanted to get a good head start on it at first all due to him being busy like a fucking lunatic with work lately. It’s fine.

Yeah.

Hayate finished with the butterfly, and set it on the table that was nearby other presents that he bought. One was just a box full of assorted snacks, a few books of Vivian’s favorite manga ( clearly he wasn’t so sure on how many volumes she had so he bought… a plentiful amount. Almost the whole damn collection), there’s a comfortable blue sweater that he had made for her, too, and a stuffed bear that had a light blue ribbon around its neck. He made the ribbon for it since he didn’t want the bear to go ‘naked’.

Not today. Not on this day.

So, while Vivian had slept Hayate had made her a quick brunch that was just stuffed french toast with eggs. Something simple and nice for her to enjoy when she awakes.

[ HAPPY BIRTHDAY LIVI!!!!!!! AND VIVIAN. I'm late but its always party time. ]

    VIVIAN'S BIRTHDAY BASH. always accepting no matter how late!

    Truth be told, she had already grown accustomed to Hayate’s tendency of being nowhere in their apartment by the time she finally woke up, so it doesn’t surprise her he had left again with only a faint sagging indentation beside her on the bed to prove he had been there, just the other night. Rather than lament the fact she had missed the opportunity to kiss him goodbye, however, Vivian would soon check her phone for birthday messages or social media updates before changing out of her banana onesie into a blue hoodie and grey cargo shorts. Afterwards, she then reluctantly heads to the bathroom to freshen up for the day, and while she couldn’t say the reflection staring back at her was one she regarded fondly the whole entire time she stood by the mirror, she still manages to brush her teeth and comb her hair until there were less tangled knots at the back.

    Of course, since she figured coffee could always come later, Vivian would then head downstairs... hoping somehow, she would be able to find Bugsby loitering around the kitchen, but what she found instead were gifts, heaped generously against the table alongside the meal Hayate had so lovingly made for her. Why, it came as such a pleasant surprise, her lips would subsequently stretch upwards into a soft smile.

     Goodness... to think he would purchase almost the whole collection of Dandy Marmalade when she couldn’t even find a single volume in bookstores across Vancouver! Honestly, against her better judgment, she finds herself giggling upon imagining Hayate judgmentally eyeing the covers, featuring topless bara men, but at some point, she would reach for the crocheted butterfly, allowing her fingers to delicately skim it’s wings. Ah, talk about soft... seriously, once he comes back home, Vivian planned on giving him the biggest hug ever!

    For now, though, she would settle into a chair and begin to eat while never letting her presents stray far from her sight; in fact, she even managed to decide on a name for the adorable stuffed bear at some point... calling him Hercules. Regardless, Hayate would eventually receive a notification on his phone when next she finishes eating

    Vivian:

You are the absolute best, Hayupin! (((o(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)o))) Thank you for making my birthday the best one yet! I’ll be sure to wear nothing but the sweater you made for me when you get back home later on tonight. (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧ ...So when that time comes, bring more than a few condoms with you, okay? ( ˘ ³˘)♥

[usernelly]

Endless Buck: (22/?) » “S05E09 - “Past Is Prolouge”

[eruden-writes]

The Unexpected Human Problem - Part 20 (Yautja x Human)

Part 1 | Part 2| Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5| Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 (coming soon)

Early chapters available on Patreon for my patrons! ;)

Comments, tags, and reblogs are real motivators for me, too! ♥

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Summary: The night her abductors die, Rayelle finds herself running for her life. She doesn’t know where she is, what is following her, where to go. All she knows is she’s not on Earth any longer and the thing chasing her has the capacity to kill.

Tai'dqei never anticipated finding a human when he took the job of tracking and subduing a small contingent of smugglers. It was only when the human attacked and fled fled, Tai'dqei - hopped up on the euphoria of a successful hunt - gave chase, instinct burning at his center.

Will sense return to Tai'dqei before he catches Rayelle? Or will Rayelle be subjected to the yautja’s natural inclinations?

And what happens afterwards?

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I’m sorry to be contacting you so soon. It’s probably my imagination but…

Something doesn’t feel right. 

I think most of the staff are androids, made to look human. But there are other staff. Alien staff, which strikes me as strange, since you weren’t allowed on planet.

I also see non-humans late at night, after staff SUGGESTS we get some rest. I don’t know if they’re staff or visitors. They don’t wear Rerli uniforms.

But I’m catching sight of more of them at random intervals. There’s a buzz in the air, like something big is going to happen, too. Like an event or something. 

Something feels wrong. I don’t know how to explain it.

It’s probably nothing. I’m sorry. I’m probably bothering you. Maybe I’m just having a hard time adjusting. 

I hope you’re doing well, wherever your line of work has taken you. 

Sorry, again, for bothering you. 

~ Rayelle. 

With a heavy sigh, Rayelle threw her arm over her face as she laid on her bed. There, she sent it. And she felt like an awkward teenager for it. 

Or maybe her mind was playing tricks on her, making her see concerns that weren’t there, because she was desperate for a reason to contact Tai’dqei. How many times had she, in the past, reached out to someone under the guise of another issue? Although, to be fair, this was a genuine issue causing her concern. 

Rerli Resort had provided everything it said it would, including personal rooms for individuals. 

Rayelle’s room was a gentle blue, currently. She could change the color with the console on the wall, though, which seemed fairly anachronistic for the 2020s, but she wasn’t going to complain. Overall, the room reminded her of a hotel room. A large plush bed, a desk - equipped with a computer - and a desk chair. In one corner, there was a chair and a table, presumably so one could read. She even had her own attached bathroom with a shower. 

The first morning she had woken up there, she almost thought her whole excursion with Tai’dqei had been a dream. A very vivid, oddly detailed dream.

Of course, then Jezika popped her head in, to offer their newest resident a cheerful ‘good morning’ and all dream assumptions fled.

“Finally wrote him, eh?” From the floor, at the foot of Rayelle’s bed, Lisa laughed around her gum. It was hard to acknowledge that, by all technicalities, the young woman - with her cherry red hair and studded denim jacket and fishnets - was older than Rayelle. At least in the respect that Lisa was born in the 70s and had been a teenager in the 80s. Well, in the US.

Another thing Rayelle had learned while residing in the massive resort was the fact all the humans - men, women, and non-binary - had come from some stage of the United States. Whether it was the pre-colonial Indigneous land, the Colonies, the US, or a later iteration of the country. 

Theories had flown around as to why that was, but no one really knew. It seemed the resort was made for many more people, but fewer than 100 had arrived. Of course, Rerli was a new establishment, so perhaps that was why?

Rayelle had a growing paranoia that the reason why they were all from the US had to do with who had been snatching them all, though. She worried their captors shared more than just a proclivity for kidnapping. 

From the desk chair, which had been turned to face the other people in the room, Sandra chuckled. She was a housewife, abducted from 1956, with carefully coiffed hair and a penchant for blouses paired with long skirts. A light floral scent always wafted from her. In her hands, she worked a piece of knitting with her needles. “You have certainly agonized over that missive since you arrived!”

“It’s difficult,” Rayelle groused, faint heat nudging at her cheeks but not quite coming to the surface yet. It was a little aggravating to be teased so relentlessly from a housewife and a punk, but that was her life at the moment. She shrugged and sighed, a dollop of resignation in her voice, “He’s probably halfway across the universe.”

Though she did want to message Tai’dqei since setting foot at the resort, her reasons for doing so expanded the longer she stayed. It wasn’t simply her missing Tai’dqei, but a gut feeling that something was wrong. Though part of her still struggled against that instinct, believing she was just looking for any reason to reach out to him. It was a struggle against herself.

Before the other two could reply, one of the android staff poked their head into the room. A quizzical look passed over their features after a beat of observing the three women. “What are you three doing here together? You’re from highly disparate decades.” 

One of the few ‘guidelines’ of Rerli 3: Stick to your era. 

It was a rule few abided by, much to staff frustration. Some decades had far fewer people though. It was unfair to isolate the few from other eras, simply due to potential anachronisms. Besides, it didn’t seem there had been any successful return stories, from what Rayelle churned up. Which meant no one returning to their home could blab about the ‘wonders of the future,’ whether near or distant. 

Then again, the resort was new. Maybe there were successful stories of return trips elsewhere.

“What do you need, Jane?” Lisa asked with a tinge of irritation, her nose wrinkling as she popped her bubble gum.

Forgetting the transgression, or maybe simply not caring - as far as an android can care, - Jane made a delighted sound and clapped her hands together once. “There are guests who wish to make your acquaintance.” 

“Guests? Are they non-humans?” Rayelle pushed herself into a sitting position, trying to stifle the way her heart jumped. There was no way Tai’dqei could have gotten there so soon, right? So it had to be someone else. That itch of concern started to weasel its way into her thoughts.

“Yes, isn’t that exciting?” Jane’s smile didn’t falter, her eyes not blinking. 

Rayelle narrowed her eyes. The other two human women in the room exchanged glances, apparently already aware where she’d go with this. “What happened to not allowing non-humans here?” 

“I haven’t the slightest what you mean, Miss Brooks,” Jane replied, no hint of deception in her voice or her features. Although, maybe she was programmed not to show either. Jane folded her hands in front of herself, primly, still sporting that spotless smile on her pink lips. “We hope to facilitate strong bonds with non-humans here, in case our residents can’t go home.” 

Residents. Not guests. Rayelle narrowed her eyes, not really enjoying how her mind gnawed on the distinction of those two words. Sandra shifted in her chair and Lisa snorted, both swathed in the same aura of uncertainty that Rayele felt.

“What kind of… aliens are there?” Sandra was the one to ask, fumbling over the word aliens. Rayelle didn’t know if it was a novel word or simply her own personal experiences making it taste bad on Sandra’s tongue.

Not picking up on Sandra’s distaste, Jane twittered excitedly, “Oh, an array!” 

“Yautja?” Rayelle asked, unable to stop herself. Maybe Tai’dqei had gotten into the heads of the androids, altered their programming. Maybe he petitioned whoever ran Rerli 3 for access. Maybe, maybe, maybe. A billion wishful thoughts spun about Rayelle’s head, knowing they were all unlikely.

“Of course not!” If it wasn’t for their situation, Rayelle would have found Jane’s scandalized tone and expression funny. “They’re too much for humans’ delicate sensibilities.”  

Rayelle sucked on her teeth, before hazarding a tentative guess. “Florizian?”

“What a good guess!” Jane’s delighted tone felt like a punch to Rayelle’s gut, knocking her breath out for a moment. She wished the android had visited before she sent the message to Tai’dqei. Then she could have told him, warned him what was going on. Who was likely behind it all.

“Tell ‘em to come back later.” Lisa’s brusque voice caught Jane’s attention, the android turning a perturbed look to the red-headed punk. Waving her hand, her plastic bracelets rattling on her wrist, Lisa added with no less bite, “I don’t feel like meeting anyone new today.” 

Jane seemed about to say something when Sandra, with her working knitting needles jittering a little more than earlier, sighed, “Neither do I, I’m afraid.”

“Me either,” Rayelle chimed in, leaning back on her hands on the bed and crossing her legs. She and Jane locked gazes, across the small distance between bed and entryway. Calculations, considerations, and - perhaps - a fight between original programming versus new flickered behind Jane’s eyes. Rayelle waited quietly, hoping she’d be proven wrong.

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice in the matter. Our guests are sizable investors to our organization,” Jane finally answered with a sigh. She stepped to the side, motioning to the hallway where two aliens finally emerged. One had long, wiggling tendrils - like Zav - and the other had four multi-faceted eyes and strange solid-looking growths from their cheeks. Both were built like tanks, though. 

The air in the room stilled. One side, thick with distrust. The other firm in their sense of complete control. Only Jane, who appeared unaware of the quiet clashing of forces, made a gesture to the two aliens as she continued to speak to the humans,  “You will be escorted to the assembly hall with everyone else. Please, come along now.”

With that, Jane happily flounced from the room, leaving humans and aliens to leer at one another. Rayelle considered refusing to move, but Sandra sighed and put her knitting away into her bag. The housewife stood, dusting off her skirt.

Sandra shot Rayelle and Lisa a look that read ‘let’s get this over with’ and, quietly, the two women followed her lead.

—

Apprehension lit hot and heavy in the air of the assembly hall. As per everything else in the resort, each decade had its own auditorium to keep inter-decade mingling to a minimum. However, it seemed they shoved all available humans into the 2070s hall. Likely due to the heightened tech and plush seating available. 

Jane had gathered more humans since retrieving Rayelle, Sandra, and Lisa. It seemed as if she was just going door to door, herding who-so-ever was around. With the number of humans, the number of non-human escorts also expanded. 

By the time they made it to the assembly hall, there were six non-humans and nearly twenty-five humans. No one spoke, considering every time they did, one of their escorts would gargle or growl or snarl at them. 

An alien, that reminded Rayelle of a cross between an octopus and a shark, stopped Jane’s troupe near the entryway. They regarded a holoscreen in tentacle-y hands.  “Do you have guests TDA2G, TDA3K, and TDC8P?” 

Rayelle thought she could hear the whirring of mechanics in Jane’s head, before she eventually said, “Yes, I do.” 

“Those’re Zav’s dibs,” the alien gurgled, before rushing to intercept another group. Another non-human shuffled into the spot Octo-Arms had left empty. This one was purple, blue flowers blossoming at their temples and vine-like hair pulled back into an elaborate pile atop their head.

“What an honor!” Jane crooned, as she turned to her troupe. She pointed out the three humans, bouncing on her heels with delight, “Bette, Rayelle, and Mizan, you’ll be going with this lovely Florizian gentleperson.” 

The two others - Bette, a 1940s factory worker, and Mizan, a scholarly young man from the 2050s - dawdled in the safety of the group, until Rayelle stepped toward their new escort. Bette and Mizan followed her, both staying behind as the Florizian led them away. Rayelle tried to shoot them both assured glances, but Bette’s features remained stony and Mizan looked about ready to faint.

The walk wasn’t a long one, but it did lead them to a more secluded area of the resort. It was a wing where basic administration and offices sat. Though as Rayelle traversed it, she realized it had changed since her first entry, five days ago. Cubicles had been torn out, desks shoved to the far walls. A number of aliens lingered about, some lollygagging as others moved with the purpose of a job.

Into one of the larger offices, the three humans were led. Other humans were led in, as well. Presumably from different herding groups. Faintly, Rayelle wondered what they were intending to do with the humans left behind, in the assembly hall. Her mind took her to too dark of places to focus on.

Instead, she turned her attention to the desk, behind which a figure familiar to Rayelle stood. 

“Ah, good, my darlings have arrived,” Zav said, when one of the Florizian who escorted the humans to the office got his attention. He turned, all smiles and charm while the vine-tendril hair wiggled with delight. He stood tall and lithe, dressed in a nice enough suit. Rayelle couldn’t help but picture how that smile could easily turn into a snarl, with so many teeth. 

“Let me take a look at you all,” he nearly purred as he rounded the desk and approached the roughly twelve humans in attendance.

All of them stood to attention as Zav approached, noticeably uncertain but spines straight. He tilted his head this way and that, drinking in the details of each person and occasionally touching them with a hair vine. He’d mutter instructions to another Florizian, a smaller one that tailed at his heels, but Rayelle couldn’t catch whatever he said. 

The longer the inspection went on, the more the humans lost their cool exteriors. Mizan’s shoulders arched to their ears, their lips pressed together with anxiety, while Bette glowered, with her arms crossed over her chest. Others fidgeted or tugged on their clothes. Rayelle tried to school her expression into neutrality, cover any inkling of recognition in her eye as Zav stared at her. 

His hair wavered atop his head, before he traced a single tendril down the curve of Rayelle’s jaw. It felt velvety soft and pliable, but cold. She braced against the vine, waiting to feel a thorny bite. “And you are the one who’d been traveling with a yautja, yes?” 

“That’s right,” she answered, forcing herself to remain still under the touch. Her eyes angled toward Zav’s face, hating that she had to look up into their features. Their dark eyes surveyed her for a moment. They were unreadable to her, though. She couldn’t begin to imagine what Zav saw in her, what he thought of her.

“I do hope he didn’t tarnish you,” he finally said, another brush of the vine coasted over her cheek to her chin and down her neck. A normally gentle action felt oddly like spiders, crawling over Rayelle’s skin.

Her brows furrowed at the assertion, a frown threatening to tilt at her lips. “What do you mean?” 

“Well, your importance to me is for the revitalization of the Florizian population.” He patted her cheek, his hand falling from her face. With narrowing eyes and a double-edged smile, Zav added, “Can’t do that if you’re carrying a litter of yautja spawn, can you?” 

A litter. That was curious wording. Rayelle stowed that away for later contemplation and, perhaps, to ask Tai’dqei if she ever saw him again. 

She chose not to focus on the implication of those words. Still clinging to her sense of calm, since she suspected it wouldn’t last, Rayelle managed to evenly reply, “If you’re asking if I had relationships with my traveling partner, I didn’t.”

“That is good to hear!” That edged smile softened into one of actual delight. Pity that he was a piece of shit, Rayelle realized, since the expression was actually almost sweet.

“I also don’t intend to be a Florizian broodmare,” she added, squaring her shoulders and raising her chin. At her sides, her fists clenched, her fingernails digging into her palm to keep her from trembling.

The Florizian before her blinked, owlishly. Behind him, others shifted awkwardly, aware of how the air around their boss dipped dangerously. The delighted smile was short lived as another, colder grin took its place. “You won’t be a broodmare. More like a greenhouse.”

Rayelle rolled her eyes at the wordplay. As if he could turn this into a cutesy exchange, when he was about to force the humans into perpetual parental servitude. “My tubes are tied. No babies for me.” 

Before she could register movement, one of Zav’s hands whipped out, grabbing her forcefully by the chin. A startled sound choked in her throat as his other arm looped around her back, pulling her closer to him. His hold was bruising on her face.

“Do you really think we can’t reverse that?” Zav sneered down at her, vines waggling in cruel amusement. A long green tongue flickered out from between his lips as he stared down at her, his teeth glinting in the brief moment his mouth opened. “Pity about the pheromones, though. That was more for your pleasure than anything else, but we’ll make do. Won’t we?”

He squeezed her cheeks, demanding a reaction or answer. A dull throb ached through her jaw as her heart pounded. Rayelle shot him a squinty-eyed, sarcastic smile as her hand moved carefully to her hoodie pocket.

It hadn’t taken a rocket scientist to feel the shift in the resort’s atmosphere, two days ago. Nearly every human noticed it. A few had mentioned the androids acting strange, as well. Others had mentioned actually seeing unfamiliar non-humans loping about. Two humans had gone completely missing, the staff unable to account for them, even in their own records.

Suspicious, Rayelle had spoken to others - revealing to them what Tai’dqei had told her about human breedability - and they decided to prepare for the worst.

Anything that could be used as a stabbing or bludgeoning weapon, that wouldn’t immediately be noticed as missing, was gathered. Knives and meat tenderizers from the kitchens. Scissors, knitting needles, woodcarving kits, and x-acto knives from the craft areas. Though the gardens had provided the most, with three-pronged cultivators, sharp edged trowels, shears, clippers, and even scythes. 

As far as anyone could tell, the staff hadn’t noticed at all. Which led to the bolder thefts. Shovels and automated knives and saws and anything that could feasibly have a use to protect themselves.

Larger items were hidden around the resort, in places humans could flee to. Smaller items were kept on their persons. 

Such as the hand cultivator in Rayelle’s hoodie pocket. Zav seemed too intent on snarling into Rayelle’s face - perhaps imagining what he would do to her - to realize her movement. She quickly withdrew the three-pronged weapon from her pocket, swinging it up and into the side of the Florizian’s face. 

Zav let out a shriek of shock and pain, as the satisfying squish of metal sunk into flesh and eye. As he shoved her away, Rayelle kept a tight hold on her weapon and it shlucked out of the side of his face. Dark green spurted from the injuries, sticky like sap. A scent like cut grass - but heady - filled Rayelle’s nostrils as she stumbled back. 

At her attack, the others instantly followed suit, pounding and stabbing into any alien who had the misfortune of being close enough. Bette, armed with a knife and a metal pan - wherever the hell she managed to carry that - as a shield. Mizan with their taser in one hand and a knife in the other.

The room erupted into chaos and screams. Rayelle hoped the others could hear back in the assembly hall or that they had already begun their own escape attempts. It hadn’t been a perfect plan, but hopefully the others figured out what was up and used their stolen goods to escape.

Stunned guards took a moment to react, before rushing toward the sharps and electricity. Green and red blood splattered, though more of the former spilled than the latter. Rayelle spun toward the door, absently slamming her cultivator into the back of another Florizian’s head; one that Mizan had been struggling against with his knife. 

“Let’s go!” Someone yelled heading for the hall, slamming through the door and into the corridor. High on adrenaline, and taking advantage of the shock, all the humans rushed from the room, scattering in the hallway. As Rayelle raced with Bette and Mizan, others met up with them, in similar states of bloody, bruised disarray. 

She thought to do a headcount, but there was no time. They had to get to the 1950s bomb shelter or to the 2170s radioactive shelter. There were a number of smaller holdout spaces, but most of the supplies, first aid kits, weaponry, and communication tech had been stored in those two places. 

The longer Rayelle ran, the more shrieks, the more screams she heard. Alarms started blaring through the resort, flashing red and angry, as the far-off sounds of booted footfalls and barking orders echoed. 

Trash cans and laundry carts and supply stations were overturned, to hinder alien pursuers. Anything that couldn’t be nailed down was thrown in the way. 

Ungodly howls lit behind Rayelle and she couldn’t help but look back. 

Zav was there.

Or she thought it was Zav. It was hard to tell. He’d grown and his tendrils had overtaken his body. He was a writhing mass of teeth and vines, one eye glowing and the other a bloody hole. Judging from the hate filled glare, pinned to her form, it was definitely Zav.

Her legs carried her faster, her heart stuttering as her lungs ached for more breath. She was close to safety. Others were already in the shelter, waving others in and screaming for laggers to hurry up.

Rayelle’s heart twisted. They had all agreed, if necessary, the doors would shut even if some were locked out. There was hope they could flee to another, smaller hidey hole or the vents or even the outside. 

They were banking on the fact their reproductive capabilities were too valuable to destroy. 

But they all knew it was a gamble. 

Rayelle hurtled over the threshold, with two others, before the door slammed shut. Spinning around as the locks chunked into place, Rayelle peered through the porthole - heavy glass that would deflect bullets or, presumably, lasers - as the solid door vibrated with impact. Something big and angry and vicious howled and pounded at the door. The door shook in its frame, but the metal held firm.

She stood, staring at it as her chest heaved with panting breaths. Her lungs ached and her legs twinged. Faintly, she felt the pain where Zav had held her, along her jaw, flare. It was probably bruised. 

But they had done it. At least for the moment, they had managed to rebel and get away from the aliens. The alleged ‘investors’ of Rerli 3. Likely also the aliens that had funded so many lives being ripped away from home, to begin with. Though, it wasn’t just Florizians, a small part of Rayelle realized. There had been other non-humans, ones she didn’t have names for.

Shaking her analytical thoughts away, Rayelle turned to the innards of the bunker. “Was that everyone?” 

“No one was locked out, if that’s what you mean,” replied Abe, an older man who Rayelle suspected was from the 1930s, judging by his attire. 

It had been somewhat surprising to find men at Rerli 3. Though, after some thought, Rayelle guessed there were aliens out there needing sperm, just as much as eggs and incubators. Or maybe there were non-humans that incubated via the men. 

She nodded and muttered a thanks to Abe, before glancing over the assembled people, crammed into the room. Not everyone got away in one piece, she realized. Quite a few people sat on the floor, as others tended to their medical needs. Quiet sobbing and whimpering filled the room. 

Rayelle tried not to fret or worry about familiar faces she didn’t find.

Even if everyone couldn’t get to the bunkers, they had mapped out a number of other decent hiding places. She just had to hope everyone had gotten somewhere safe. Even if those other areas weren’t stocked with as much food or intense weaponry.

With her heart still pounding, Rayelle glanced at her wrist gauntlet. Her fingers shook as she pulled up the communication app, the one she had sent a message through to Tai’dqei earlier. 

Had he seen her message?

Had he replied? 

Was he coming?

Her stomach sank as a ‘No Satellite Connection’ error flashed on the holoscreen.

[heartsmadeofbooks]

New Fic: Underneath it All [Preview]

Hi everyone!

It’s been a while since I finished posting my last fic, Sleepless in Brooklyn. My plan was to start writing and sharing a new fic right away, but life got in the way. It’s been a few difficult months, with lots of up and downs, and writing was sort of relegated to the last spot in my list of priorities. But a few weeks ago I finally managed to find some balance in my life again, and I’m now in a much better, much more creative and much happier place.

And nothing makes me happier than announcing that my new story, Underneath it All, will start on August 3rd. This fic is a book!AU that I’ve wanted to write for the longest time. It’s been a bit challenging, because it’s based on the first romance novel I’ve ever read, Wildest Hearts by Jayne Ann Krentz, a book that was written and published in the late 80s/early 90s, so it was quite challenging to adapt the story to our times and for a gay couple. But I had lots of fun with it, and I hope you guys will enjoy the ride.

Without further ado, here’s a preview of the first chapter, plus the cover art made by the amazing @nerdishedits​. My beta for this story is once again the one and only @christinejaneanderson​, who’s been my partner in crime for a decade now. I’d be lost without her ♥

See you on August 3rd!

The first time Blaine saw Kurt Hummel was at his older brother’s engagement party.

It was a very lovely night, still warm for the end of September, and both drinks and food were flowing freely in the cozy yet expensive restaurant Cooper and Joanna had chosen for the occasion, the one where they’d had their first date a few years ago, where Cooper had stopped, just outside the doors after dinner, and kissed her as pedestrians swerved around them, as the Manhattan traffic played for them like a symphony. He hadn’t been able to wait until they were at her doorstep, Cooper had told Blaine the next day. He just knew he had to kiss her right then and there, afraid there wouldn’t be another chance, afraid the magic would be spoiled.

There was music playing and a space had been cleared amongst the tables to allow for some dancing. For a few minutes, Blaine stood with his champagne glass and watched as couples danced, a little smile on his face, maybe a wisp of wistfulness behind his hazel eyes. But there would be time for that, he told himself as he turned to find his brother.

For a while, Blaine was distracted, chatting amicably with friends and colleagues, making sure everyone was having a nice time. It felt like it was his duty as best man to make sure this night went wonderfully for both Cooper and Joanna.

And then he was there.

It was hard not to notice his arrival, because the crowd suddenly grew very, very quiet. It was eerie. Blaine had been talking to his future sister-in-law, and hesitated, unsure. He spun around to see what the problem was and saw a man walking in.

He was tall and lean, but even from a distance Blaine could tell that under that designer suit he was wearing, he was deceptively strong. His chestnut hair was swept off his face, not a single strand out of place, and his eyes seemed to morph from blue to grey, an icy quality to them that seemed enough to make people part as he walked. He was so handsome it was impossible not to stare, but the set of his shoulders, the tension in his jaw, the way he moved told Blaine there was something about this man that was unlike anyone he had ever met before – he seemed powerful, and in complete control of the room within a second or two.

Cooper had warned Blaine and Joanna, when they were working on the invitations for the engagement party, that it was more than likely that Hummel wouldn’t make an appearance. He was rarely out in public, let alone social affairs, and when he did choose to attend one, it was in much higher circles than the ones the Anderson brothers moved in.

Cooper had met him five years before then. Hummel had hired Cooper, who had always been sort of a tech genius, to set up and strengthen the security systems in his extensive business empire. When Cooper had left the company he had been working at a few years later, wanting to start his own firm, Hummel had invested heavily to help him get started, becoming his biggest financial backer. They had done business together a few more times since then but, as Cooper had said to his brother and future bride, it didn’t matter how much time he spent with Kurt Hummel, he didn’t become less of a mystery.

Despite Cooper’s warning, here he was. Blaine saw his brother from across the room, the obvious surprise and pleasure at seeing him arrive. He immediately made his way to him, his arms open in welcome, a bright grin on his face. Hummel hadn’t smiled, only recognized Cooper’s joy with a brief nod. There was something about him, some sort of dark fierceness that made it hard to look away.

As he followed Cooper, who no doubt had just told him he wanted to introduce his fiancé to him, people once again parted to make way for him. Blaine was at once impressed and slightly struck by this – the way he moved, so in control, so determined, like he knew what he wanted and nothing would stop him from reaching it, made Blaine think of a leopard gliding through a flock of sheep.

“Hummel, I want you to meet my family,” Cooper said, grin still intact, when he reached them. “This is Joanna, my fiancé.”

“Nice to meet you,” Joanna said, but there was hesitation in her voice as she looked at Kurt Hummel, her brown eyes filled with uncertainty. She shook his hand so briefly they barely even touched.

“And this,” Cooper said and reached to squeeze Blaine’s shoulder, “is my little brother, Blaine.”

When Hummel’s eyes turned to him, Blaine felt torn between wanting to run and hide from that deep, steady gaze, and a much louder, larger part of him that wanted to get closer to Kurt Hummel, regardless of the risks.

A shiver went down his spine as they shook hands and Hummel’s fingers settled, very briefly, on the pulse point at his wrist.

He didn’t stay long. He stood in a corner by himself, sipping champagne absentmindedly, for less than half an hour. Except for the brief minutes he spent talking to Cooper, he held himself apart from the crowd, and no one dared approach him, as if there was a magic invisible border between him and the rest of the party.

Blaine had been intensely aware of the way Hummel’s cold eyes followed him as he danced with some of Cooper’s college friends. He could feel it, like a tickle on the back of his neck, but Hummel never stepped away from his little corner to ask him to dance.

He didn’t dance with anyone else, either.

He left as quietly as it was possible for a man that couldn’t help but pull everyone’s focus, only Cooper trailing behind to see him out. Blaine couldn’t deny the peculiar disappointment that went through him at seeing him leave. Discretely, he made his way to one of the windows and took a look outside. There was a slick black limousine parked at the curb and Kurt Hummel stood right beside it, chatting quietly with Cooper. His brother was gesticulating wildly, explaining something in that very Cooper way of his. It was such a stark contrast, seeing them side by side – while Cooper was light and breezy, always smiling, always laughing, always trying to make whoever was with him have a great time, Hummel was dark and heavy like a rain cloud, his lips set in a straight line, his posture one that showed he was always alert, that he didn’t let himself relax, not here, not now, maybe not ever.

Just as he was about to get into the limousine, once Cooper had patted his back in a friendly farewell, he turned and stared right at the window where Blaine was standing, looking at him, like he had known all along that Blaine had been there. His only acknowledgement was a small, court inclination of his head, before he got into the car and disappeared.

Blaine stood at the window for another minute, feeling, strangely, like he needed to catch his breath.

[travellingcircus]

Hi! For the obikin prompt: i loved your recent modern AU one-shot, so I was thinking maybe something in the same universe, but with some possessive/jealous Anakin? Maybe some other alpha is being creepy with Obi-Wan and he's coming to the rescue? (Love your fics btw ♥)

After weeks and weeks of prodding Anakin to do something about the kitchen pipes, Obi-Wan finally takes matters into his own hands and calls a plumber. The man arrives on his doorstep on the dot, polite and handsome and wearing blue coveralls, calls him sir and offers him the most charming smile you can imagine, that Obi-Wan aches for a moment and has to press his legs together. He shows the man the way to the kitchen. The man, to his credit, doesn’t waste time making small talk, though he does brush up against Obi-Wan when he paces alongside him. 

“I’m not very knowledgeable when it comes to these things, you see,” Obi-Wan explains, while the man hunkers down on his knees on the tile and inspects the condition of his pipes. There’s a small basin collecting water underneath the p-trap, which seems to amuse him because he pokes at it with a finger.

“I think I know what the problem is,” the man says, and starts laying out the tools from his belt: half of them Obi-Wan doesn’t even know the name of but he trusts in this man’s expertise. He looks and sounds like he knows what he’s doing. His name is stitched above the breast pocket of his coveralls: surely that must speak of skill and experience.

Then the man stands to his full height, crossing the room to stand in front of Obi-Wan. He’s got a look in his eyes that makes Obi-Wan swallow. The air around them feels suddenly charged, weighted with tension, and Obi-Wan swallows again and takes a slow step back: a bad move, it seems, as the man stalks forward in turn, startling Obi-Wan into stumbling back some more until his back hits the wall. 

Arms trap him in place, braced on either side of his head. Obi-Wan can smell the man’s eagerness, and it makes his body answer in kind. His hole, still tender from Anakin’s attentions this morning, twitches in anticipation, and his cock gives a feeble twitch. 

“Poor, lonely little omega,” the man purrs, tipping Obi-Wan’s chin up with two fingers so that Obi-Wan will look him in the eyes. “You need someone to take care of you, don’t you? Where’s your husband, hm?”

“My husband,” Obi-Wan says slowly, putting emphasis on the word, “Is at work.”

“Really,” the man says, clicking his tongue. “If I were him, I’d stay at home so I could knot you all day. Bet you’d look so pretty on my knot, sweet thing. Bet I could make you cry from how good it feels, better than your husband’s dick.”

“I beg your pardon?”

The man smirks before grabbing Obi-Wan’s arse in a greedy palm. Obi-Wan grunts as the globes of his arse are kneaded shamelessly, too stunned by this turn of events to summon an appropriate reaction. When a finger starts probing at his hole through the fabric of his sweatpants, he lets out a sharp, breathy cry as his body betrays him and starts to leak.

In response, the finger stops moving abruptly, and Anakin narrows his eyes at him, sniffing the air. “What the hell Obi-Wan, you’re already wet? Could you be a little less eager that some random plumber is coming onto you?”

Well: so much for that; Obi-Wan shoves Anakin gently off his person and straightens his cardigan where Anakin had crumpled it up with his groping hands. “If I’d known you wanted a limp fish, we could have come up with an entirely different scenario.”

“I don’t want limp fish! I’m just concerned that you’re being too forthcoming!”

“Forthcoming?” Obi-Wan repeats. “Might I remind you this was your idea, dearest, and that I was simply playing along.”

“Playing along my ass,” Anakin huffs. “You were wet as soon you opened the door, I could smell you!”

Obi-Wan doesn’t even dignify that with a response. Instead, he crosses his arms. “The question, I think, that we should both be asking here is: do you plan to do anything about it? Or would you let a handsome plumber have their way with me on the kitchen floor?”

Anakin is looking increasingly agitated. There are signs of a fuse about to blow: the gnashing of teeth, the telltale flush of his face, the intermittent twitching of his jaw that would have been funny if only Obi-Wan sometimes didn’t worry about how his moods could change at the drop of a hat. “You thought the plumber was hot?”

Obi-Wan stares at him impassively, patiently. “Dearest,” he sighs, pressing a kiss to Anakin’s forehead to settle him. He thumbs his right cheek, then his left one, pushes their bodies close together so that Anakin can smell him and center himself. “You’re the plumber. I want you. You could be a butcher, baker, or a candlestick maker for all I care. I’ll still want you.”

Anakin looks at him dubiously, but all it takes is another kiss to the forehead to buoy him back to reality. He slumps agains Obi-Wan in silent capitulation and pushes his nose against his scent gland, licking and kissing and running his teeth over the three-year old mating bite. 

“Besides,” Obi-Wan says, rubbing Anakin’s back until he starts purring. “The most unrealistic part of the whole thing was how the plumber couldn’t smell I was already pregnant.”

Anakin growls. “There, there,” Obi-Wan coos, bemused. “We won’t speak of that dastardly plumber ever again! We can be ourselves this time,” he offers, thoughtful. “Or,” he adds after a pause. “I could be the benevolent king beloved in all the land while you the striking, handsome rebel who has come to pillage and conquer.” He raises his eyebrows hopefully.

Anakin pulls back to regard him. “You think you’re so benevolent but your people are starving and dying.”

“Funds have been misappropriated without my knowledge.”

Anakin nods, seemingly having come to a decision. “I want you in those open-crotch panties that I bought you last time.”

Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow at him. “There is nothing historically accurate about them.”

“If you wanted historical accuracy, I’d get you a breeding bench, see how you like it.”

Obi-Wan opens his mouth, closes it, tries his best not to picture himself bent over and bound while Anakin pounded away at him and filled him up the way Obi-Wan needed it most days. He sighs and shakes his head. “Right, then, give me a moment and I shall get into character.”

Anakin’s amused laugh follows him all the way upstairs.

[sashi-ya]

Pt.1 Donquixote Rosinante x F! Reader ~ You Saved My Heart ~

Hi my lovelies! I know this is not requested, but I wrote this a few months ago and thought why not uploading it? It's like a first chapter, yet you can read it as it is without any other second part. I've always imagined what if Cora was still alive and someone -reader- found and saved him? Well this is the story of how I imagine it happened. If you want a second part, I will be pleased to continue ♥

TW: Of course poor Cora covered in blood and wounds. Little spoiler of how Law cure himself from the amber lead disease (if you haven't read One Piece Novel: Law I strongly recommend doing it haha, because it explains why Law has that wound over his liver)

AU: After Doffy and the Marines left Minion Island.

WC: 2.1K

Smoke is coming from that abandoned home where your ex pirate crew got their base. The smell of gunpowder all around the island was overwhelming… “Marines”, you think. Pulling from your trolley full of firewood.

In the distance, you can see several white and blue ships leaving the coast. “What the hell happened here?” you think as you keep walking through the white, freezing sand.

The remains of several cracks, fissures, cuts? over the ground got you thinking if that big thing you saw that looked like a bird cage had something to do with. You went there just to see what was going on with such outrage over an almost deserted island.

The smell of blood suddenly caught your attention. “Why is it so strong?” you think and decide to follow it. Maybe there was someone hurt?.

And indeed there is someone lying a few meters farther.

You discover the big silhouette of what you assume is a person lying on the cold ground, being covered by abundant snowflakes. You run towards it, almost sure his soul has already left his body a long time ago.

A blonde, tall man covered in blood rests on the snow with a smile. You quickly brush the snow away from his face. He is wearing some type of fancy make up, something that even in that state could make anyone smile.

“Sir, Sir! Do you hear me? Are you alive?” you shout, but of course the cold body doesn’t move. Yet, somehow you want him to be alive…. You lean your ear over his chest, praying to hear at least a weak heart beat. But there is nothing. But, you keep waiting. “Come on Sir” you whisper.

“Thump… Thump…”

You widen your eyes, “was that..was that a beat?”. You are not really sure, the sound of the snow and feral wind around is so loud. But then again, slowly, weakly…

“Thump… Thump…”

“This man is alive!” you shout, looking around you in case someone maybe could help you. But there is no one there. You are completely alone. “It’s no use, I should carry you to my home. I hope you are not dangerous” you say and get ready to use all of your strength to help the man in need in front of you.

You rip your clothes -already pretty ragged- just to cover some still slowly bleeding areas, and then after some struggling you put him over the trolley.

“How are you so tall?” you say as you strive to pull him through the snow. His long legs hang from the cart, making it even harder to move. But you don’t care, you have to save this man, even if you don’t know why.

After you go into the forest, you finally reach your little cabin. You have moved into the middle of the woods because you actually didn’t want to keep working for those filthy pirates. Inside there is no more than a bed, a fireplace and some kitchen stuff. It’s far from being a perfect house, but it’s where you are safe.

“Hi, Heart! We have visitors tonight…” you pet your little -not so little- Saint Bernard dog, who grates you waving his tail at you. After some more enduring you finally get the stranger on your bed. “Let’s see” you inspect him trying to decide which wound you will be treating first. Thankfully, your duty when you were a pirate was actually being a doctor.

The sun was already set, and the golden orangey tones that entered through the windows were now absent. You carefully took your patient's clothes off, and took care first of the several bullets that his body held. Then, the multiple broken ribs, and lastly the scratches all around his legs. He has so many past scars, so you wonder what type of person he actually is.

While he is still unconscious, yet his heartbeat seems a little bit stronger, you decide to wash his clothes and hang them so he can wear them when he -hopefully- gets better.

From the inside of his feathery blue coat, something falls to the ground as you were hanging it. A little leather pocketbook, completely soaked by the snow and blood.

Carefully, you pick it up from the ground and open it over the table. “I don’t really want to invade your privacy Sir, but if I don’t open it everything will get ruined” you excuse yourself.

Inside, there is an identificatory plate. “Commander Donquixote Rosinante. MC 10746”. You soon realize, he is a Marine officer. “Well I think I might be safe, then” you think, and keep looking at the things inside. There is also a photo, a little grumpy boy being squeezed by the man’s arms. And lastly a little drawing, something similar to a submarine perhaps, made in a paper towel.

Your heart aches, what if that boy was his son? Has something happened to him?...

You prepare something hot to eat, something similar to a soup. Your pup, Heart, eats delighted by such delicity, even if it was just water with some vegetables floating in it. “Someday you will eat a true Oden, Heart! I promise!” you tell your dog, and he barks in response.

After eating, you check Rosinante’s temperature. He is burning. “This is probably an infection, I will rub some more of this antibiotic ointment over your wounds” you inform him, even if he isn’t probably hearing you. Then, you move his abundant bangs off his forehead, and place a wet towel over it. “I wish I could do more for you, commander” you whisper.

The crackling noises of the firewood burning fills the cabin. You won’t sleep tonight, you have to be ready if something happens to him, he is in a critical state. Plus there is no other bed for you to sleep.

---

The morning comes, a golden ray of light filters through the window and hits your eyes. Sometime, in the middle of the night you felt asleep sitting on the floor with your head over the mattress, next to the man’s huge arm.

You abruptly wake up by the weight of a hand over your head. You open your eyes wide, scared, but soon realize it’s no other than your patient. He is slowly moving, trying to mumble something. You stand up quickly.

“Sir, Sir! I’m (name), I found you in a real bad state over the ground. I’m a doctor, please stay calm” you softly tell him, brushing your hand over his bicep. The man opens his eyes, ruby irises fixing on yours. The most beautiful eyes you have ever seen…

“LAW!” he shouts. “Law? Yeah. Uhm… you are a marine, yes” you tell him, assuming he is trying to tell you he is an officer. “Law!! My boy!!” he shouts again, trying to stand up from the bed, failing miserably as everything hurts. You suddenly remember the photo of the little kid.

“Is Law your son, sir?” you ask. “oh… uhm, yes!. Please, help me find him. He is sick, really sick” he shouts, with a pained expression. “Sir, uhm… I could help if you want, but you can’t leave this bed, at least not for now” you inform him, saddened.

The man looks at you with tears in his eyes, and grabs your hand. He squeezes it, and the warming sensation of that skin against yours somehow feels comforting. “Help me, please” he begs.

“Of course, Sir. I will” you promise him. And the tight squeeze of his hand gets weaker, slowly as he loses consciousness once again. “Poor man…” you pity him.

You try to think about how you are going to look for that child. You can’t leave Rosinante alone, but if you keep wasting time something bad could happen to the sick kid.

“Woof! Woof!” Heart barks at you, sitting next to the door. “Right! You can go search for him!” you tell the Saint Bernard dog. “Fine, I’ll prepare your little barrel, please be careful, and be back as soon as you find him, or if it gets darker, ok?” you tell your only companion while squeezing his flews.

Your dog gets out, running, doing what he naturally knows best, rescuing people. You watch his silhouette get lost in the tall, snow covered trees and pray for his and the little kid’s safety.

After several hours, your dog hasn’t returned yet. The sun was slowly setting and you can’t help but get anxious. “Come on, Heart. Found the little boy, please” you repeat, looking through the window.

“Agh… Law” the man in your bed grunts all of a sudden. “Sir! don’t worry. Heart, my dog went out to find him, please stay calm. He is a Saint Bernard dog, Heart has rescued a lot of people before” you tell him.

“T-thanks” he mumbles, again trying to stand up and failing miserably. “Sir, stay in bed. I assure you he will come back with the kid” you tell him. “Was he with you when this happened, Sir?” you ask. “Y-yes… Please, don’t call me Sir” he tells you. “Ok… uhm is Rosinante ok?”.

The man looks at you, surprised you know about his name. “Oh, uhm. Sorry. I know your name because I… uhm… saw your wallet. I put everything out over the table to get it dry” you say, looking at the ground. “It’s ok… thanks, you saved me” he mumbles. “You are welcome, Sir… I mean, Rosinante”. He intimidates you, not because he is scary, but because he is handsome as hell.

You turn around on your heel, and go grab a glass. Pouring some water you tell him, “You should drink some water”. “Ok” he accepts. You walk towards him, kneeling and softly help him hydrate. He takes sip by sip, he grimaces when swallowing, maybe his throat hurts too...

“You are a commander, right? Would you like me to help you contact a marine base?” you ask. But Rosinante suddenly turns his head to you, his eyes fixed on yours. “Please, don’t” he tells you. You fall back on your butt, you get scared. It’s not that he looks scary, but he is so big compared to you…

The night is already here, and Heart hasn’t come back yet… You have been stuck over the window, waiting for their silhouettes to appear… until you devise something running towards the cabin, being bathed by the moonshine.

You run to the door, opening it and going outside. “Heart!!” you shout, and realize that your dog is carrying something on his back. The puppy finally gets to your entrance with a little kid completely asleep, covered by a grey woolen blanket.

You pick him up, he is shivering, yet unconscious. He looks awful, his skin has some white spots, but not as much as the ones you saw on the picture of Rosinante.

Your bigger patient somehow manages to stand up leaving the bed to his “son”. “Please help him, he… he has the amber lead disease… he is not contagious. He has eaten the Ope Ope no mi” the man begs you. “Don’t worry, I know it’s not” you calm him.

The little kid rests over the bed, you check him, discovering a big wound on the right side of his abdomen, where the liver is located. “Did the kid have this wound before? it looks freshly done” you ask Rosinante. “He… he didn’t” he says, worried and trying to stand still. “I think he might have… uhm, gone through a surgical procedure” you inform him, wondering what happened to him.

Rosinante loses his balance, maybe because he feels weak, or because he might have tripped with his own feet, and kneels next to the bed. “Miss, please, let me, let me do something” he says. “Of course” you allow him. He is no doctor, but a dad knows best for sure.

A sudden semi transparent aura surrounds him and the kid, as you hear the man cast a spell.“Calm”. The child stops shivering, his face looks relaxed. Rosinante caresses the little cheeks of the boy, telling him how much he needs to be strong, that he is here, safe and sound.

You melt at such a sweet scene, yet wondering about the scar and disease the little child has.

After some minutes, the man stands up with your help and you lend him a chair. “Thanks” he says, petting Heart’s head.

“Cora-san…” the little boy slowly opens his eyes and mumbles something similar to the spanish word for “Heart”.

“Law!”...

[deeplywornletters]

and when you hold my hand, i see the stars

My entry for one of @thewitcherbog​ ‘s fluff bingo-prompts: Stargazing Hope you enjoy! (And thanks to @sulkyshengshou​​ for beta-reading ♥)

Summary: When everything becomes too much for Geralt at a houseparty, he flees to the garden where Jaskier checks up on him. From there, things progress...

Rating: Teens and Up Length: 1.9k

You can also find it on AO3!

It was too much.

Too loud

Too many people.

All Geralt wanted was out and so he pushed his way through the crowd, maybe a little bit too forceful, but at this moment he didn’t care.

His heart was pounding in his chest, so hard and fast that it was almost matching the song that was currently blasted from multiple speakers all around the house. He knew that it had been a bad idea to come here, and his body was making him pay for it.

He finally found an exit and let out a sigh of relief as the cool night air hit his skin, his nervous system calming down almost instantly. He looked around and saw that he was standing in what looked like the host’s garden, a few lonely plastic chairs standing on the lawn. There was no one else around, everyone busy either dancing or drinking or both, and Geralt was glad for it.

He’d only agreed to go to the house party because his best friend had been begging him, making puppy eyes at him for an entire week before Geralt had finally given in, mumbling something about “I’ll come if it means that you’re finally gonna shut up.” In reality, though, Geralt would have done just about anything for that man, because he-

“There you are!” His thoughts were interrupted by a loud voice cutting through the music, though Geralt was certain that he would have recognised it even at a whisper.

“I was looking for you everywhere, you just took off!” Jaskier said, sounding slightly offended as he approached Geralt, hands pressed to his hips.

Geralt didn’t say anything and just looked away, ashamed. He felt bad because he knew how much Jaskier had been looking forward to this evening, and he had ruined it by, well, being himself.

He was about to apologize when he felt a hand on his shoulder and a concerned Jaskier asking: “Are you alright?” He sounded sincere, but Geralt knew that the truth would only make his friend feel guilty and bring their night out to an abrupt end.

Instead, he went with a white lie: “Don’t worry, just needed some air. The alcohol was starting to get to me.” He remembered his brother telling him that the perfect lie always contained a bit of truth, and he was hoping that this was enough not to make Jaskier suspicious.

Then again, Geralt was an expert in lying to Jaskier, putting on a mask in front of him every day and burying his true feelings so deep he sometimes almost forgot how much he loved the other man. It never lasted, and when it hit him again, it hit him hard, like it did right now.

Jaskier was standing in front of him, barely an arm’s length between them, pupils wide and cheeks flushed from all the beer he’d drunk during various drinking games. He was wearing a bright blue shirt that complimented his eyes perfectly and Geralt wanted nothing more than to kiss him senseless right then and there. He had had a few shots himself; he found it harder than usual to resist the urge. It was bubbling underneath the surface, threatening to overtake him if he let his guard down even once.

His thoughts were interrupted by a gentle tug on his arm.

“Hello? Earth to Geralt, you there?” Jaskier asked, his eyebrows raised and his head cocked slightly to one side.

Shit. Had he been talking to him this whole time? Worse even, had he noticed that Geralt just stared at him?

He quickly nodded, trying his hardest not to arouse suspicion, when suddenly, Jaskier’s eyes grew wide. He grabbed Geralt’s hand in his and pointed at something behind the silver-haired man with the other, shouting: “Look, Geralt!”

Wondering what the the fuck had gotten Jaskier this excited, Geralt turned around, eyes following the other man’s finger. He squinted his eyes and saw—

Nothing.

“What the fuck?” he mumbled, looking at Jaskier with a raised eyebrow. Was he fucking with him?

“I swear it was right there!” the other man insisted, before adding: “A shooting star! I saw it!”

Ah.

Geralt gave an understanding nod, pretending to understand why that had made Jaskier so excited. To Geralt, shooting stars had always been nothing more than a bunch of rocks in space, no need to make a fuss about it. But seeing Jaskier in awe almost made Geralt blush; the child-like wonder in his friend’s eyes making him look even more irresistible than he already did.

Suddenly and without warning, the hand still holding Geralt’s tugged him down, causing him to nearly land on the grass face-first.

“Jaskier, wha—” he began, but his protest was met only with a: “Shut up and lay down, we are trying to look for more shooting stars.”

There was an unusual amount of authority in Jaskier’s voice, only reserved for instances in which Geralt hadn’t done the dishes yet again and things were starting to smell.

Not wanting to anger his friend, Geralt did as he was instructed: laying flat on his back and putting one arm behind his head. Above them, the night sky was pitch black save for a few stars scattered all across. The grass was cool and slightly damp, but Geralt didn’t even notice.

All his attention was focused on the fact that Jaskier was still holding his hand, with their fingers now interlaced. The physical contact sent shivers all throughout his body and made him long for more, yearning to be closer, to touch.

 Was he dreaming?

Once more, his line of thought was interrupted by Jaskier’s voice.

“...and see this one right there? That one’s called Pegasus,” he said, pointing at what looked like a random cluster of stars to Geralt.

He was about to ask how the hell Jaskier seemed to know so much about astronomy, when all of a sudden, a small burst of light illuminated the sky, appearing in one spot and disappearing in another. Geralt let out a tiny gasp as he stared in wonder, unconsciously tightening his grip on Jaskier’s hand.

He was completely lost in the magic of the moment when a quiet “Make a wish!” tore him out of his trance and he turned to look at Jaskier laying next to him, a soft smile on the other man’s face.

Without giving it a second thought, Geralt silently wished for one thing: courage.

Courage to finally be brave enough to tell Jaskier how he felt, and courage to have the strength to handle whatever the other man’s answer would be.

Courage to just reach out and kiss him, show him all the things he had wanted to say for years.

But Geralt did none of those things. Instead he just smiled before asking: “What did you wish for?”

“Ah,” Jaskier said, turning his gaze away, back up towards the sky. “Now that I can’t tell you, else it wouldn’t come true!”

At that, Geralt raised an eyebrow, his smile changing into a soft smirk.

“Very atypical of you, to not share something with me.” Usually Jaskier told him pretty much all of his thoughts (whether Geralt wanted to hear them or not) and it was the reason Geralt was all caught up on the newest Kardashian-drama.

“I could, however…” Jaskier began apprehensively, “...tell you what I didn’t wish for.”

Geralt looked at him dumbfounded, the music hammering in the background not helping him focus at all. What was Jaskier getting at?

“I definitely didn’t wish for my best friend to kiss me,” Jaskier whispered, his voice almost swallowed by the loud bass whummering through the air. Geralt’s heartbeat was picking up again, keeping time with the beat of the music.

 Could it be…?

Jaskier was staring at Geralt, an unreadable expression on his face. He unclasped their hands —Geralt felt a sting in his heart at the loss of physical contact— then slowly, as though he was moving through water, placed it on Geralt’s cheek. Jaskier’s hand was both warmer and softer than he’d expected, his skin growing hot where the other man’s fingertips touched his face.

Time seemed to stand still as they lay there; Geralt unable to move a single muscle as not to scare Jaskier away. Yellow met blue and nearly drowned in it, the intimacy of the moment almost too much for Geralt to handle.

He swallowed, his mouth suddenly feeling very dry.

“What a coincidence.”

Each word needed Geralt to use all of his strength to get out, but if he didn’t do it now he knew that he would never get another opportunity like it.

“‘Cause I wished for the same thing.”

That was a lie and Geralt knew it, but just this once he didn’t feel bad about telling one.

He had asked for the courage to confess his feelings, and this was the closest thing to a confession he was ever going to make. He may not have said much, but to him it felt as though he had laid his soul bare, stripped of all its barriers and walls.

He was at Jaskier’s mercy, and he silently begged him to be kind.

Jaskier was still staring at him, blue eyes sparkling even though it was nighttime, and the slightest grin was creeping onto his face. It was a sight so beautiful it would have made Geralt’s knees weak if he hadn’t already been laying down, one that he swore to cherish forever no matter the outcome of this evening.

The hand on Geralt’s cheek started to move, fingers ghosting gently over his hair and finding their way to the nape of his neck where they stayed still for a moment before pulling him forward, resting his forehead against Jaskier’s. They were so close that Geralt could feel the other’s breath on his face, hot and smelling of a mixture of beer and something that could only be described as him.

Geralt didn’t know how long they stayed like that — so close yet so far apart. It could have been just a few seconds or many, many hours, but he couldn’t bear waiting any longer when he finally, desperately, gathered all his courage and pressed his lips on Jaskier’s.

His heart skipped a beat in the time it took for the other man to react, but before Geralt knew what was happening, Jaskier was kissing him back. It was slow at first —as though the other man was asking for permission— but soon the kiss was deepened, Jaskier pushing his tongue into Geralt’s mouth whilst tightly grabbing the hair on the nape of his neck.

It felt new and good and hot. Geralt could feel the heat pooling in his abdomen, his entire body screaming for more.

This wasn’t the time nor the place for it though, and so he gently pulled back from their kiss, placing his hand on Jaskier’s cheek the same way the other man had done a few minutes ago.

They were both panting, cheeks reddened and stupid grins on their faces. Jaskier’s pupils were blown so wide they seemed almost black and his lips begged to be kissed again, plumb and pink, his mouth slightly open. It was the sexiest thing Geralt had ever seen.

For once, Jaskier seemed to be at a loss for words, and Geralt, adrenaline rushing through his veins, found yet another burst of courage:

“Let’s get out of here.”

[wingsandcoffins]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑    𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐒    

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘: @ribbedxgloves​ (Thank you love♥)

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆: @thxwxlf  @count-v-dracula @penniesfortheferryman @cariicature-of-intimacy @greatwrath @jienkora @biiscione & anyone who wants to

𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑    𝟎𝟎𝟏    :    𝐓𝐇𝐄    𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄.    

NAME:   Rayne Aleksandrovich

EYE COLOUR: Bright, Icy blue. Can change with mood

HAIR STYLE  /  COLOUR:  Long, white wavy hair.

HEIGHT:   5’ even

CLOTHING STYLE:  You can never go wrong with dark jeans and a comfy sweater. But she likes to wear skirts too. Heels are almost a must for how short she is, though boots are also a go-to.

BEST PHYSICAL FEATURE:  Her eyes are probably her best/favorite thing about herself, other than her wings when they are out.

𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑    𝟎𝟎𝟐    :    𝐓𝐇𝐄    𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄.    

FEARS:  Captivity again... to be alone...

GUILTY PLEASURE:   Rayne tries to eat healthy... but if you put sweets in front of her... she gone.

BIGGEST PET PEEVE:  ...Loud, unruly children running amok...

AMBITIONS FOR THE FUTURE: Survive.

𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑    𝟎𝟎𝟑    :    𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒.

FIRST THOUGHTS WAKING UP:   Fuck... I left the curtains open again.

WHAT THEY THINK ABOUT MOST:   Am I safe? No one dangerous knows where I live, right? I don’t have to move for a while...

WHAT THEY THINK ABOUT BEFORE BED:  Maybe I should shut the curtains now... but I want to read one more chapter... and my bed is too comfy...

WHAT THEY THINK THEIR BEST QUALITY IS:   ...

𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑    𝟎𝟎𝟒    :    𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓’𝐒    𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑?

SINGLE OR GROUP DATES:  It really depends on the mood Rayne’s in. Sometimes single dates are a bit too much if the spotlight’s always on her. Sometimes she just wants to be a wallflower watching the scene.

TO BE LOVED OR RESPECTED:   Respected. Love comes and goes, but to have respect means to finally have some worth on this god-forsaken planet.

BEAUTY OR BRAINS:  Brains.

DOGS OR CATS:   Both

𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑    𝟎𝟎𝟓    :    𝐃𝐎    𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘…

LIE:   There come a time where you need to lie to survive. There’s no other way, and to live, there can’t always be just the truth.

BELIEVE IN THEMSELVES:  Ah... no, not always. She’s had issues with seeing herself as anything worthy, though she’s working on her self worth and confidence.

BELIEVE IN LOVE:  Once, long ago. It might still exist, though it’s not very clear in some of her verses.

WANT SOMEONE: Maybe one day. Depends on if the right person comes along.

𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑    𝟎𝟎𝟔    :    𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄    𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘    𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑…

BEEN ON STAGE:  No. Rayne tries desperately to keep out of the limelight, and the last thing she wants is to end up on a stage.

CHANGED WHO THEY WERE TO FIT IN:  Of course. Rayne has had to change her appearance a few times to blend into towns and cities to avoid suspicion from those that were/are hunting her.

𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑    𝟎𝟎𝟕    :    𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒.

FAVOURITE COLOUR:  Blue

FAVOURITE ANIMAL:   Big Cats, specifically Snow Leopards

FAVOURITE BOOK:     The one last read.

FAVOURITE GAME:   Nada... closest thing she’s played is extreme hide and seek...

𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑    𝟎𝟎𝟖    :    𝐀𝐆𝐄.

DAY THEIR NEXT BIRTHDAY WILL BE: May 14

HOW OLD WILL THEY BE:   ...ah... like... 400-something?

𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑    𝟎𝟎𝟗    :    𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇    𝐓𝐇𝐄    𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄.

I LOVE: animals and nature.

I FEEL: like I’m alone in the world.

I HIDE:  from those that hunt me.

I MISS:  my parents.

I WISH:  I wasn’t so scared of everything...

[darkcolinodonorgasm]

CSJJ Day 20: Meant to be

A/N: It’s done. Finally. I’m really, really, really glad it’s over. This fic has been a labour of love for @csjanuaryjoy in so many ways but it’s finally done and I’m definitely happy about it. I want to thank all the lovely ladies in the discord chat, you rock ♥

It’s a Broadway Princess Party AU I divided in four acts on ao3 and ffnet because, well, it’s almost 20k words long. So, if you rather read it somewhere else than tumblr, I’m going to leave you the links down here. I suggest you go check the BPP playlist by the creator - Benjamin Rauhala - where you’ll also find the songs I used in this fic.

There might be something legal brought up that it might not even exist so I apologize in advantage for that. Also, whenever Killian sings and mention his brother, it's actually my doing since he would be talking about his father instead and, well, we all know how that's gone.

Summary: Emma Swan has always wanted to join the Party, it's been one of her dreams since she's been picked to play Anya on the Broadway musical "Anastasia". So when the invitation finally reaches her, Emma is over the moon. It's there that she sees Killian Jones for the first time, his voice capturing her attention while the man slowly manages to capture her heart.

Perhaps Princesses don't marry kitchen boys, but what about pirate Captains?

Tagging the lovely @kmomof4 ♥

Read on: ao3 - ffnet

Enjoy!

Act I – A girl with no name, and no memories but these

There was something to be said about the euphoria coursing through your blood after a performance. Emma knew it very well, yet it still felt strange, almost alien.

You see, Emma Swan, the face and voice of Broadway’s new show Anastasia, had always expected to be nothing, had always felt nothing. That was why her role as Anya was so important to her, because it hit too close to home and made her feel as if she was someone. Of course, she was no princess and she had no grandmother – biologically, of course, she did, but that’s not the point – she could con along with a duo of wonderful men, one of which the love of her life.

Emma snorted at that. Yeah, that ain’t gonna happen, she thought bitterly, keeping out all the thoughts of dull brown eyes and the promise of more and oh, the stolen watches he’d put in her freaking car. Fortunately for her, she had some brain and her super power.

Trying not to kick her shoes off and somewhere in her dressing room she would never find them again – she was indeed respectful of all the people working in the costumes department, thank you very much – Emma let herself fall onto the couch as regally as she could, just wanting to get out of the bright red gown and into a shower and then into bed with her cat on the other pillow.

«Come on,» Ruby said, entering the dressing room, «the sooner you get out of here, the sooner you can get into bed.»

Ruby Lucas was an angel – or the devil, depending on the situation – and she was Emma’s hairstylist/everything. But she wasn’t only that, she was also Emma’s best friend. More than once she’d helped Emma with her actual hair and dragged her to the mall, shopping for dresses and shoes Emma would probably never wear.

Emma groaned from the couch, the crown starting to get heavy on her head and her scalp to hurt. Ruby first helped her out of the ballgown, hanging it carefully next to the blue one. «Alright, work your magic,» she sighed, slipping the heels off her feet and making her way to the chair in front of the mirror. There were nights on which she almost fell asleep as Ruby swiftly removed wig, caps and bobby pins from her hair, the blonde strands falling in curls around her face. Mostly, Emma tried to fight off the tiredness removing her make-up or talking to Ruby, but sometimes she would just doze off.

As usual, her room was filled with fresh flowers and gifts from fans from all over the world sent her. It filled her heart and even made her cry sometimes, people treating her like an actual princess when she wasn’t one at all. At times, it made her feel like a fraud, but some other times, knowing that those same fans knew about her past and didn’t care, that made her heart burst.

Next to the gifts there was always a stack of fan mail she always read, always so grateful for every word the fans sent her. Above it all, though, there was a blue and white envelope with a ribbon and a gemstone holding it to place. Emma raised her eyebrows at the peculiar sight. While many fans went a bit overboard with all the decorations and gifts, she had to admit she’d never received a letter quite like that one.

Curious – and in need not to fall asleep – Emma grabbed the envelope on top and carefully opened it. Behind her, Ruby whistled. «Secret admirer?»

Emma snorted at that. «Yeah, sure, super secret.» Her laughter died when she started to read what was written in the letter. Holy shit.

You see, the Broadway Princess Party wasn’t exactly famous, not unless you were a Broadway nerd of sorts, but it was a chance to see actors singing live different songs, mostly from animated movies that didn’t make it to Broadway or their musical version, or even songs from other musicals. Emma knew about the party, but had never been invited to sing. At least, not until that night.

Excited, Emma let out a high-pitched scream that scared Ruby. «Look!» the blond exclaimed, thrusting the invitation right into Ruby’s face. «Look!»

Biting back a laugh at her friend’s excitement, Ruby complied, grabbing Emma wrist to hold it still as she read the invitation. Her eyes widened. «You’re going to let me help you dress up nicely for this. And style your hair! You’re so going to finally hook up with someone during this!»

Of course, of course Ruby would think something like that. Emma couldn’t help the laughed that escaped her lips. «Yeah, yeah, in your dreams, Rubes.»

«That’s your song, girl, not mine,» Ruby retorted, brushing Emma’s hair before putting away everything. «Now get ready for the fans, then you can go snuggle with Odette. God, I miss that girl.»

Emma rolled her eyes. «You’ve seen her two days ago.»

«Two days too long away from her,» Ruby sighed melodramatically, her hand placed upon her heart.

To be fair, Emma couldn’t blame Ruby, her Odette, a white Norwegian Forest cat, was too precious for someone to not love her. Despite her breed, Emma had actually found her in an animal shelter when she’d decided she could afford a little animal she could keep in her apartment. Odette had been there, a fragile little thing someone had abandoned, much like her parents did Emma. That had sealed the deal.

Knowing she had fans waiting to meet her, Emma changed quickly into a pair of leggings, a white long sweater and her favourite boots. Fortunately, it wasn’t too cold anymore, so she could wear her beloved red leather jacket, something her fans had started to associate with her since the show began almost a year ago.

While exiting her dressing room with her arm linked with Ruby’s, the duo met Graham, on his way towards the exit too.

Graham Humbert played Dimitri, and some didn’t understand how good he was because they didn’t know how difficult it was not only talking with an accent that wasn’t yours but also singing with a different accent. It always threw fans off, making their knees tremble – as if his good looks and proximity weren’t enough. He also was an amazing human being, and Emma was extremely grateful she had such a professional and perfect co-star.

«Graham, Graham, Graham!» Emma exclaimed jumping up and down in front of him, «guess who’s been invited to the Broadway Princess Party?!»

Playing his part, he shifted into a shocked expression, placing his hand above his heart. «Me?» he joked in a high-pitched voice before laughing and wrapping an arm around Emma’s shoulders to pull her close. «I’m happy for you, Emma.»

If you think being so excited about being invited to a party many didn’t know about is silly, then you probably never dreamed of being a princess or a superhero or whatever you wanted to be when you were young. Or you’re lying.

Being an orphan, Emma never thought she could ever be someone, that she could even be the face and voice of Anya, inspiring other orphans like her and letting them hope in a better future, something she’d never dared doing.

Stepping out of the theatre and into the cool air of New York, Emma couldn’t help the shiver that ran down her arms, a warm smile on her face as her ears were filled with screams from the fans. At the end of every show, Emma and the others usually spent almost an hour at the stage doors, chatting with the fans, taking selfies and signing autographs. Of course, Graham was the most wanted, leaving poor August third after Emma. They didn’t mind, it wasn’t a competition – yet, because god knew the two of them could turn anything into a competition.

Once the last fans went their own way and they’d told their goodbyes to the other members of the cast, Emma and Ruby walked towards their apartment building. Aside from being best friends, the two were also neighbours. It had been Ruby the one to suggest Emma to move in into the apartment next to hers, and thanks to her savings and her pay, Emma could now afford it without problems.

«I was thinking about the ombré dress you have, the blue and black one,» Ruby told her as they made a little detour for a cup of hot chocolate. «And the only sandals you have. Yep, totally those.» Leave it to Ruby to know the content of Emma’s wardrobe.

At the mention of the sandals, Emma groaned. «You know I hate sandals,» she whined, entering the nearest Dunkin’ Donuts, where they ordered their hot drinks and a chocolate donut each.

As they waited, Ruby arched a black eyebrow. «I do, but unless you want me to take you shopping tomorrow morning before the show, you’ll have to suck it up and go in sandals. In your wardrobe there’s nothing good enough for that dress, which is also one of the few sparkly dresses you own.»

The devil, Ruby Lucas was the devil.

«Fine,» Emma sighed, her shoulders slumping. It wasn’t as if she didn’t agree with Ruby, after all she didn’t have many dresses and her shoes were mostly sneakers or flats, the few heels she had nothing even remotely close to the kind of stilettos Ruby owned. The sandals had been a purchase of convenience, when she kept seeing women only wearing that kind of shoes and she’d been a tad influenced. The reason why she hated sandals was because she hated showing her toes. They weren’t ugly or crooked, she just didn’t like showing them.

Oh god, this means nail polish, Emma sighed internally, letting Ruby for their almost-midnight treats. After the first few months of knowing each other, money between them hadn’t been much of a problem, despite Emma’s reservations, and if one had forgotten to go grocery shopping, the other easily went for her or just ordered take-away for the two of them.

It was nice having someone more like a sister than a friend. Although Ruby had been raised by her Granny, she too had suffered the absence of her parents, no matter how much she loved her grandmother.

«I’m also going to work on your curls, I’d opt for a braid but Elsa and Anna will be there, too, we don’t want to confuse people, do we?»

Emma turned to look at her, swallowing the first bite of her donut as they headed home. «How the hell do you know who’s going to be there?»

Ruby rolled her eyes. «Well, aside from Ashley, who is the co-creator of the Party, Jasmine and Belle are there almost every time, plus they’ve already announced the sisters. You’re going to be the special guest or something, along with someone else, probably.»

The blonde nodded. «I guess so,» she commented, wondering which song she would have to perform, though her mind went straight to Journey to the past and Once upon a December, what with those being the most famous ones.

She would have to call Will Scarlet, the creator of the event, also known as Fairy Godfairy, the next morning. Honestly, Emma didn’t like the fact that it was on such a short notice, but who cared? She’d been invited to the party, that was on another level of awesomeness entirely!

Wolfing down the rest of her donut, Emma pushed open the door of the apartment building with her shoulder. «I assume asking if you’ll come to the Party is useless,» she mused, checking her mailbox, grateful her fans weren’t stalkers and hadn’t found her address.

«You assume correctly,» Ruby agreed, her mailbox full of magazines instead. «Besides, I need you to hook up with someone, and I need someone to hook up with, too.»

Emma rolled her eyes but smiled anyway. Aside from Neal’s betrayal, Emma didn’t just feel the need to date someone. Sure, she saw the appeal of a one-night-stand but there was also the fact that her face was plastered all around the city and even buses, for goodness’ sake. That definitely killed the mood. It didn’t mean she wasn’t accustomed to taking matters into her own hands.

«Seriously, Emma, I don’t wonder if your hymen has grown back only because I know it’s impossible.»

Emma was just grateful she’d just gulped down the chocolate.

They both burst out laughing, not stopping until their stomachs hurt and tears ran down their cheeks. Still laughing under their breaths, they took the elevator to their floor, trying to quieten down so their neighbours wouldn’t complain.

«Alright, alright, see ya in the morning. Kiss Odette for me,» Ruby waved her goodbye with the hand holding the paper cup as she opened the door to her own apartment.

«’Night, Rubes.» Emma mirrored the gesture with a smile on her face, stepping inside, welcomed by a loud meow demanding attentions. «Why, hello, sweetheart.»

Odette meowed again, rubbing her head all over Emma’s calves, stepping between her legs as the blond headed towards the kitchen, leaving the almost-empty cup of chocolate over the island. The white cat jumped on the marble counter, sniffing at the cup before meowing again.

Emma arched an eyebrow. «Nope, you have your own food, girl.» The cat grumbled as Emma finished the cocoa in front of the cat’s big blue eyes. «Nice try, still a no.» It didn’t mean, though, that she wouldn’t get her snuggles.

After a short shower, Emma finally got to slip into her bed and fall asleep with her cat and a smile on her face.

Will Scarlet was… something else.

Not in a bad way, mind you, but he wasn’t like Emma had pictured him at all. He was funny, that she knew from the videos, but he was also goddamn serious and treated the Party as if it was his child, something Emma could understand pretty well, but he was a whole new level of serious.

«Excuse me, lass, what do you mean you’ve received the invitation just yesterday?»

It was rhetoric, that she knew, but she felt herself go back to the years in which every word that’d leave her mouth would grant a beating anyway as she stood in front of him as he fumed, metaphorical smoke coming out of his ears.

Emma gulped, putting on a brave façade. «What I said,» she repeated, «I found the envelope just yesterday evening.

For a moment, she thought she was about to snap like a twig and unleash his furious when a voice interrupted them and a petite brunette reached the stage. «Will Scarlett, I told you not to trust Felix when it comes to invitations. You and I both know he’s unreliable. Ashley, knows too, which is why she has me helping you when she can’t.»

Belle French was a force of nature and Emma was in awe of her: she’d been the youngest Belle Broadway’s Beauty and the Beast ever saw and, unfortunately, also the last one.

As many people know, the production ended in 2007, but what many didn’t know unless they were in the theatre world or cared enough was that it had all come down to a scandal. Belle had been young and pretty naïve, much like Emma when she was sixteen, and had fallen for her costar, the Beast, Robert Gold. What nobody knew, not even the other members of the cast, was how crazy the man was, how obsessed he was in Belle the moment he set eyes on her. It had started out innocently, many relationships do, lots of time spent together backstage, little gifts not even so expensive, furtive touches and Belle didn’t care about Gold’s age, she just felt loved and that was enough. Only, it ended up being too much.

At first, Belle had not cared about the bruises, they didn’t last much and they were more a consequence of sex, something about her being petite and he a bit too blinded by passion. But then bruises started to mar her arms and one night she was limping because she had “fallen down the stairs” while too caught up in a book. Then, all of a sudden, everything came crashing down on Gold, he didn’t show up again at the shows and neither did Belle. She returned just for a few weeks before the last show, not before it was announced production would end.

Emma didn’t know the details, at the time she was too young, but she remembered how many whispered their thoughts, thinking it had been a miscarriage that finally made Belle open her eyes, a miscarriage caused by the beatings. Belle had never actually confirmed or denied the rumours, and thankfully interviewers knew better than asking something like that, focusing on the legal battle that would see Gold behind bars for a very long time instead.

Will sighed, bowing his head, both chastised and planning the murder of this Felix. He then looked up at Emma. «’S alright, lass, we’re not acting, we’re theatre people and we know how to put up a show fast, am I right?» The Englishman flashed her a bright smile. «I didn’t add you to the official line-up for the night because I didn’t get any response from you. My mistake, I should’ve checked in with you. I’m sorry.»

In response, Emma blinked at him a few times, not knowing how to take his sudden attitude. «No problem,» she found herself stuttering.

A polite cough brought her attention on Belle, her smile bright and gentle. «Don’t let yourself be intimidated by this one, Miss Swan, he’s all bark but no bite,» she reassured Emma, ignoring Will’s “oi!”. «As Will said, we’re used to improvising, but we have time to rehearse something. We can do whatever you want, Will is an amazing pianist, he can learn everything in so little time.»

Will’s cheeks and ears were now red as a tomato, evidently not used to being praised like that. Or, perhaps, not used to being praised like that by Belle.

Emma squinted at him for a second, wondering if the two of them were dating, her curiosity momentarily winning before she squared her shoulders and gave Will a tentative smile. «I know people would want me to sing something from the movie, but I brought In my dreams at my audition and-»

«Wait,» Belle cut her off, blue eyes wide and mouth agape, «you auditioned with a song from the musical?»

Ah, that. Right. It’s common knowledge that, unless the creators require it, it’s frowned upon to show up to an audition with a song from the musical you are auditioning for. It shows how unexperienced someone is, and although it wasn’t Emma’s first time auditioning for a musical, it was the first time a song had made her cry while reading the lyrics. In the end, it had been the raw emotion as she performed the song and her powerful voice that had brought the entire table to tears.

Blushing a deep red, Emma nodded, shocking the couple in front of her. It wasn’t that big of a deal, not to her, at least: she loved every song in the musical, each one making her tear up a bit every time.

«Well, then, lass,» Will smirked at her, «In my dreams it is.»

Her knees were trembling and her heart was beating so furiously in her chest she was deafened by the pulsating sound of the blood in her ears.

Next to her, Ruby was finishing making sure her hair wouldn’t fall from the bun she’d carefully styled her hair into. «For fuck’s sake, you seem more agitated than you were on opening night,» the brunette hissed.

On the stage, Ashley Boyd was singing a medley from various versions of Cinderella, her voice like a dream as her free hand was placed on her swollen belly.

«Pfft, I’m not,» Emma retorted, not denying she was anxious, but nothing compared to what she’d felt the night they’d premiered, when she’d almost vomited on stage. The sound Ruby made told her the brunette didn’t believe her one bit.

In the club, everyone started to clap and cheer as Will hit the final notes of Impossible. After a short bow, Ashley looked at Will, sitting next to him. «Oh, Fairy Godfairy, have you heard? There’s a rumour in Broadway! It looks like they’ve found a Princess.»

«Oh, really?» Will feigned incredulity.

Ashley nodded. «Yes! Mind you, it’s just a rumour…»

«A legend!»

«A mystery! I’ve also heard she may have gone insane!»

And that was her cue.

Stepping towards the stage, Emma coughed to catch their attention. The spotlight was now on her, her dress shimmering under the light. Ruby wasn’t an angel, she was so much more. «I beg your pardon?» she asked them once she reached the mic stand, cocking a brow as the crowd went nuts all around her.

Will gaped at her, blinking a few times. «Your Highness! You’re real!»

Emma snorted ungracefully. «Indeed I am.»

«Fairy Godfairy!» Ashley shrieked, «I’m so excited! Are you not? This is just like a dream!»

On cue, Will moved his fingers on the first keys, looking at Emma with a conspiratorial gaze. «Oh, you know a dream is a wish your heart makes, don’t you?»

«A dream, Princess?» Emma asked Ashley, winking at her. «Let me tell you something about dreams.»

Briefly closing her eyes, Emma fell back into Anya, something that’d always been so simple for her because Anya was so much like her it scared her sometimes.

«They said I was found by the side of a road, there were tracks all around, it had recently snowed. In the darkness and cold with the wind in the trees, a girl with no name, and no memories but these.»

That first part always killed her somehow, because it was her story, not Anya’s, Emma’s. Only, it wasn’t Russia, but Maine, and she’d not been a child, but a newborn.

She went on, singing about how the nurses gave Anya her name, probably knowing she was that Anastasia. Unlike her, Emma had already been named, the woollen blanket with her name on it still in her possession.

«Traveling the back roads, sleeping in the wood, taking what I needed, working when I could, keeping up my courage, foolish as it seems, at night all alone in my dreams.»

The cold winter nights spent sleeping in her Bug, the effort she put in the shitty jobs she had to take to afford enough to eat something decent, but at night there weren’t dreams, nights were for nightmares.

«In my dreams shadows call, there's a light at the end of a hall. Then my dreams fade away, but I know it all will come back, one day.»

Nightmares of finding a family and losing it because of a surprise pregnancy, of discovering painful reasons behind her parents’ abandonment, of boyfriends trying to make her fall for their crime.

Many times as she sang this piece, Emma found herself fighting the tears stinging her eyes. Being too emotional was frowned upon, especially if it led to crying in the middle of the performance when it didn’t require it. Tonight, here, was no different.

Emma was grateful about the verses about Paris, they allowed her to focus on the song, to slip back into Anya yet never actually forgetting Emma.

«You don't know what it's like not to know who you are, to have lived in the shadows and travelled this far. I've seen flashes of fire, heard the echo of screams but I still have this faith in the truth of my dreams!»

Oh god, no, people didn’t know what it was like being an orphan, always wondering why you, why your parents left you on the side of a road in a cold October night, not caring if you lived or died, leaving you to wonder why they’d not just interrupted the pregnancy or why they’d not taken her to a fucking hospital.

«In my dreams it's all real, and my heart has so much to reveal. And my dreams seem to say "don't be afraid to go on, don't give up hope, come what may". I know it all will come back, one day!»

Emma, though, had never had hope to give up, not in a long time.

The moment her voice faded away, the crowd roared, deafening her with their clapping as she gave them a grateful and slightly trembling smile, the emotions swirling inside her leaving her breathless.

Ashley stood and rushed to hug her, tears staining her face. Hormones, Emma thought, lying to herself, because even Will seemed to have been touched by her performance and there was no way he was pregnant.

After saying their goodbyes, Emma went back to Ruby, giggling like a teenager as they hugged. The experience had certainly been worth the wait.

Sitting back at the table, Emma watched the Party go on, more guests she’d already met taking the stage and making her sing a long at times as she sipped her drink.

It was towards the end of the night that he showed up.

Well, he’d been there all time long, to be fair, he just wasn’t in the line-up.

«Ahoy, mate!» he shouted, catching everyone’s attention much like Emma had done earlier.

Even though she’d never seen the show or even met the man, Emma knew who Killian Jones was. It was impossible not to, to be honest: it wasn’t everyday that the lead of a rock band turned into theatre after three albums. He was pretty young, but he also was quite famous. And hot as hell, Emma mused, watching him swagger towards the stage and greeting Will after placing a kiss on Ashley’s hand.

He was the epitome of “gentleman pirate”, not only on his show but in real life, too. The way he carried himself, even before Broadway, reminded her of a pirate, no matter what kind of clothes he was wearing, whether they were black leather pants and a long coat or a pair of skinny dark grey jeans and a waistcoat over a shirt, the sleeves rolled up just below his elbows to show muscular arms covered in black hair, fingers still adorned with rings, hands Emma felt the urge to feel on her skin. Her thighs clenched at the thought.

«If you keep your mouth open like that you’re going to eat a nest of flies or something.»

Ruby’s teasing voice brought her back to reality long enough to cast her friend a warning and disgusted glance before Killian started to sing one of the most popular songs of his musical, Revenge is gonna be mine.

The show told the story of Captain Hook before and after he became the fearsome pirate, of how his father had sold him and his brother into slavery and how, after a tempest, the brothers were the only two survivors and were hired into the Navy. The older brother, William, would die while searching in Neverland for a cure to all evils when it was a poison instead, pushing James on a path of vengeance. It didn’t stop there, the first act closing with the death of James’ lover at the hand of her husband, a wizard, and the loss of his hand. After that followed “years” in Neverland battling Pan, a much darker version of him, until he found love again in a princess that was kidnapped by Pan’s shadow, making Hook give up his quest for revenge for love.

It was a story worthy of a romance novel, yet Emma had heard it didn’t focus much on the love story, emphasizing Hook’s tragic backstory instead. She wished she could see it for herself, but her schedule didn’t allow it and she just didn’t feel like asking for a day off to go see another musical – or for any reason, really: people came to see her, she didn’t want to let her fans down.

As Killian Jones sang, Emma couldn’t help feeling drawn by him, by his low but clear voice, his British accent sending shivers down her spine and arms. Part of her wondered how it would feel in her ear, his voice low as it whispered dirty things in her ear as he pushed into her. Emma bit back a moan, clenching her thighs.

She needed to get laid, to hook up with- Oh, fuck.

«You knew he’d be here,» Emma hissed at Ruby, who merely blinked innocently in response.

«I don’t know what you’re talking about.»

Emma snorted. «Sure thing,» she scoffed, shaking her head. Ruby had never gone as far as sending her on a blind date with someone, leaving her freedom to date or do whoever she wanted, but expecting her to fall for someone specific? That was a bit too much even for Ruby.

«Aw, c’mon, Emma,» Ruby whispered, pointing at the man owning the stage, his dark jeans hugging him perfectly, tufts of black chest hair peeking out from the unbuttoned collar of his shirt, «you and the pirate over there are both single, hot as hell and it’s about time you let yourself be happy.»

People cheered all around them as Killian finished his song, both Emma and Ruby clapping their hands loudly. He deserved it. And you deserve to be happy, Emma’s mind reminded her. Yes, she did deserve to be happy, but it scared the hell out of her. Besides, he might be single, but he also could just not be interested in a relationship. Or in her.

Belle took the stage once again, but Emma’s attention was caught by the man descending it, a bounce in his steps as he sat at a table on the other side of the room, two girls sitting next to him. So much for hooking up with someone.

At the end of the show, as usual, the guests would sing When you wish upon a star, something they hadn’t rehearsed, which made Emma nervous as she made her way to the stage once again.

Apparently, the world, fate, destiny, something, wanted her to at least be within five inches from Killian Jones because, despite coming from the two sides of the room, they ended up next to each other. Suddenly, Emma’s hands started to sweat as she lifted her eyes to meet his. Huge mistake.

Blue engulfed her, drowning her in unexplored waters she wanted to further sink into. It was like the world around her disappeared, any sound or scent just was no more. And then she heard his voice, so similar to his singing voice but also completely different, as soft as a pup’s fur.

«Apologies, love,» he told her, shifting to let her step between himself and Belle, his eyes leaving her as his warm hand found her waist. Could a person melt? Emma was beginning to think it could.

«Don’t worry,» she mustered with a tiny smile, witnessing his cheeks colouring red, the pointed tips of his ears becoming even more so. It was adorable.

Instinctively, Emma placed her own hand onto his waist, her fingers digging slightly into his hip as she stepped further next to him to make space to the others.

«And now,» Ashley told their public, «this is how us princesses and princes – and a pirate – say goodnight.»

Singing with other stars was a sensation she would never forget, especially when standing next to a legend like Belle. Singing next to Killian Jones, though, made butterflies soar in her stomach. Emma got part of the answer to her question: the sound of his voice in her ear was divine.

After the last round of applauses, they all descended the stage, Emma and Killian going on their way. Emma was slightly disappointed, but couldn’t blame him: he didn’t know her, after all. There was nothing to be sad about.

Only, there was something to be surprised about when she reached her table.

Sitting with Ruby there were the two girls she’d seen earlier at Jones’ table. Perhaps not a blind date, but meddling was something Ruby would definitely do.

«Emma! These are Tilly and Margot; they’re part of Hook,» Ruby introduced them, a wide smile gracing her blood red lips as Emma took a seat.

The girl wearing glasses, Margot, snorted. «That doesn’t sound quite right, Rubes.» She turned towards Emma, explaining: «I’m the head hairstylist of the show, Tilly is the one actually singing in the musical.»

«Yeah, well, I’m not part of Hook Hook, that would be quite awkward and absurd,» said a confused Tilly, making a face at the thought.

All Emma could do was smile bashfully. «I’m afraid I’ve never seen the show before,» she admitted, but Tilly waved her off.

«Don’t worry, Emma, it’s understandable. I’ve never seen Anastasia either but I gotta say, that song needs to get a huge amount of Tonys. You should get a huge amount of Tonys.»

«Who should get a huge amount of Tonys?»

Emma’s eyes widened at Killian’s voice, not realizing he’d reached the table, his blue eyes lit up with mirth.

«Emma, of course!» Tilly replied, arching her brows. «Don’t you think so?»

Finally, Killian’s baby blues shifted onto Emma, her breath catching in her throat as their eyes met. Was it possible for her to feel like this, so light, so breathless, just by looking at him? How?

His smile widened, making the butterflies take flight in her stomach once again. «Aye, it was bloody brilliant, love. Amazing.»

He took a free chair from a nearby table and sat down next to Tilly, right in front of Emma’s flushed self, completely unaware that was a set-up. Or perhaps he did know, perhaps… No, Emma, don’t go there.

But when Killian kept smiling warmly at her for hours as they drank the night away, Emma couldn’t stop herself from hoping that, even if he didn’t know his friends were playing matchmakers, he felt the same push she did.

As scary as it was, Emma was tired of running, yet the fear of being betrayed, of not being enough was still there, lingering, reminding her she wasn’t lovable enough for people to even care a little about her. Of course, she had friends who didn’t think about her that way, friends who loved her and had never betrayed her, people who made her feel home.

Emma didn’t know if she was ready to trust someone else with her heart, nor if she was even capable of loving someone, but her gut was telling her it was worth it. Love was worth it.

 Act II – In between wondering why and finally knowing

 They didn’t become friends. At first, that is. It was a mere acquaintance, really, what with Ruby being close friends with Margot, which in turn made her friends with Tilly and allowed her to know more about Killian in a not-so-subtle way. For Emma, of course.

No, Emma couldn’t deny she fancied Killian Jones, but that was it.

Only, well, it wasn’t it, because she always hoped she’d impressed him that night at the Party a month ago, but nothing happened after that if you didn’t count Emma and Ruby having a girls’ night out with Margot and Tilly once or twice.

Emma knew it was hopeless, that she was hopeless: during the last month, she’d started fantasizing about Killian Jones more and more, always trying not to act on her feelings unless she was home alone. In her bedroom. With her toys. But that was it. For real, this time.

So when she picked up her courage and asked Killian out, it wasn’t because she had a month – okay, years, but it all started to become much more after she met Killian – of pent up sexual frustration, but because of what she saw in his eyes at the second Party she was invited to.

That night she’d already performed with Graham, singing A crowd of thousands – to say the audience went nuts when he kneeled and called her “your highness” would be an euphemism, they probably had some kind of orgasm – and was now nursing a Cuba Libre as she laughed at Jasmine and Al onstage talking about how Alan Menken decided to change the intro of A whole new world overnight.

Aladdin was one of her favourite musicals, not only because she adored the movie and the songs, but also because she loved Al like a brother from another mother. They’d lived in the same foster home for a year and a half in Cincinnati; unlike her, he got the part of Aladdin pretty soon, stealing it from another singer as easily as the actual Aladdin stole apples from vendors.

Anyway, Al found love in Jasmine – seriously, what was with Disney hiring people with the same names as the characters they had to play? – and they were now married and still on the show. It was adorable but also a great effort, yet somehow they made it work.

«You must feel trapped inside these walls, we’ll run away just you and me.» Emma’s breath caught in her throat as Al started singing; although she knew every verse of the song, that part made her feel so exposed, because she did feel trapped inside the walls she’d created to protect her heart, because no matter how much they kept out pain, they also kept out love. «Why not escape as evening falls, there’s a whole world you’ve yet to see.»

«If I go with you, will I be safe?»

«Sure, do you trust me?»

«What did you just say?»

«Do you trust me?»

«I’m not sure why, but yes.»

Whom Emma didn’t trust was herself: she wanted to open herself up, and of course was scared of being betrayed once again, but she didn’t trust herself not to run away when things got serious and too much.

She couldn’t help but glance over to Killian’s table, tonight too accompanied by Tilly and Alice. Immediately, her eyes met his and she glanced away, blushing so much she could almost feel the heat coming off her cheeks. Needing to cool down, she took a long sip of her cocktail.

Graham gave her an amused look, evidently knowing why she was so flustered and unnerved. Sometimes she hated how much he knew her, the need of keeping her feeling a secret prevailing. «You know, he asked me if we were together.»

Emma choked on her Cuba Libre. She started to cough violently, Graham patting her on the back with a smirk on his face. The bastard.

After she’d resumed breathing correctly, Emma mastered her best death glare, squinting at her friend. «Why would he assume so?» Why does he care?

In response, Graham just shrugged. «Honestly? I don’t know. But hey, be glad I’ve not told him we were madly in love just to see how he reacted to that.»

Yeah, I’m glad indeed, she thought rolling her eyes skywards. God, there was a difference between pining – she hated the word but she had to give that to Ruby, she was pining after Killian Jones – and him having an interest in her.

Because he had an interest in her, didn’t he? Otherwise it wouldn’t explain why he’d asked Graham if he had a relationship with Emma. Unless he was interested in Graham, of course. She snorted at the thought, that would be fun.

«I actually didn’t expect him to be here tonight.» Graham’s voice made her look at him, her brows furrowed in confusion. Her friend looked back questioningly at her. «You don’t know today is the anniversary of his brother’s death?»

Apparently, she didn’t. Emma didn’t know many things about Killian Jones, to be fair, and she preferred it that way, there was no beauty in dating someone you knew everything about because you’d read about them on the internet.

She felt sad for him, such a personal detail left out to the open for strangers to know. Honestly, she would feel so angry, and she was, because people knew about her past in jail, a freaking tip to the media by the girl Emma stole Anya’s role from. Oh, it had been bad, really bad. Emma had sued her, but the damage had already been done. However, many letters had come from fans, sweet and encouraging words that had brought her to tears, words she thought she didn’t deserve.

But a brother’s death? It was so much worse.

Emma shook her head, looking at Killian as he made his way towards the stage, his shoulders stiff and his expression unreadable. She sighed, knowing how much she would’ve liked to hear about his brother’s death directly from him, much like her betrayed heart was a secret only she should tell.

After a quick exchange with Will in hushed tones, Killian nodded firmly and sat on the stool next to the piano. He took a deep breath, a smile creeping up his face, extremely fake, a mask to conceal the pain, and Emma’s heart broke at the sight.

«Good evening,» Killian said politely, shifting uncomfortably on the stool, «tonight I wasn’t supposed to be here, many of you will surely know why. Will has been a good friend of mine for years, my own personal Fairy Godfairy, somehow-»

«Aww, I love you too, mate,» Will said with a high-pitched voice, probably to drive attention away from Killian so he could collect himself and fall into character, building walls all around himself. It was something Emma was known to do, that she still did out of habit.

Killian managed a smirk, winking at Will and blowing him a kiss. Emma chuckled fondly, not knowing why she felt her heart warming up at Killian’s antics but relishing in the sensation anyway. «Anyway, this is a tribute, and Al will hopefully forgive me for stealing his songs-»

«Anytime, mate!» Al shouted from the other end of the room.

Everyone laughed, and Emma could see a crack on Killian’s façade, utter gratitude for his “mates”. With a last smile, Killian nodded at Will, who started playing. Immediately, Emma knew what Killian was singing. She was grateful Ruby had introduced her to waterproof make-up. «Where has the starlight gone, dark is the day, how can I find my way home?» Emma closed her eyes, focusing on Killian’s voice, on the feelings he was pouring into the song, on the words he spoke as if he’d written them himself. «Home is an empty dream lost to the night, brother I feel so… alone.»

Fuck. No, she had not thought he would change the lyrics, but he had and fuck, Emma was going to cry all the tears in her body. She had never wondered whether it was worse to never have had someone who loved you or to have had a family, friends, lovers and then losing them all forever, she had just always felt jealous of those who had a family, but the thought of losing it was as much unbearable as not having one at all.

And then, Killian Jones changed song. «I’ve wasted time, I’ve wasted me, so say I’m slow for my age, a late bloomer, okay, I agree.» If there was one song she particularly loved in Aladdin, it was Proud of your boy, so damn powerful and painful at the same time.

Tears were running down her cheeks, clouding her vision of Killian, but she didn’t need to see him to feel his pain. It was almost as if they were linked, bonded. It couldn’t be, yet she couldn’t shake off the sensations she was feeling.

«You’d promised you’d be there whenever I needed you, whenever I call your name you’re not anywhere. I’m trying to hold on, just waiting to hear your voice, one word, just a word will do to end this nightmare.»

She heard someone sob, not realizing it was her who emitted that sound until Graham passed her a handkerchief. Though she should have, Emma didn’t feel pathetic, she just ached for that young man whose brother had left him so soon, much like she cried even now for the little lost girl who had never had anyone’s shoulder to cry on.

«Tell me that I’ve been a louse and a loafer, you won’t get a fight here, no ma’am. Say I’m a goldbrick, a goof-off, no good, but that couldn’t be all that I am.»

I’m not nothing, I was never nothing!

Those were the words Emma had shouted at the woman who’d publicized her file. Before she found her place, she’d dare say her home in Anastasia’s crew, Emma had believed for years she was nothing, that she wasn’t worth loving. Slowly, she had changed her view on herself, but it had taken years and lots of prodding and loving gestures from her friends to break down most of those walls she’d built around herself. Somehow, Killian Jones was breaking down the ones around her heart with that medley.

«When will the dawning break, oh endless night? Sleepless I dream of the day. When you were by my side, guiding my path, brother I can’t find a way.»

It was then that Emma realized why she felt a connection to Killian Jones: he, too, was an orphan. Yes, he’d had a brother, but it didn’t change the fact that he spoke of said brother as if he’d been a father to him; dedicating him such songs was a statement. She couldn’t imagine the pain of losing both parents and then the only other living relative whom you loved so deeply.

«Water flows under the bridge, let it pass, let it go. There’s no good reason that you should believe me, not yet, I know but, someday and soon, I’ll make you proud of your boy, though I can’t make myself taller or smarter or handsome or wise.»

Emma couldn’t help the watery chuckle that escaped her lips as she tried her eyes, the ache in her chest not diminishing, but increasing instead because Proud of your boy was a song Aladdin sang to his mother, someone Killian hadn’t anymore either.

«I know that the night must end and that the sun will rise, and that the sun will rise, I know that the night must end, I know that the sun will rise and I’ll hear your voice deep inside. I know that the night must end and that the clouds must clear, oh, the sun, the sun will rise.»

Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise, Emma instinctively thought hearing the lyrics. She’d always adored that verse from Les Misérables, main reason why she’d tattooed it on her ribcage, right under her left breast. It had taken her years to understand what it meant, many people letting her down, in the darkness, but in the end she’d seen the sun rise and her world fill with light.

«I’ll do my best, what else can I do, since I wasn’t born perfect like Liam or you; mom I will try to, try hard to make you proud of your boy.»

Emma almost tripped standing from her stool to applaud him, tears still shining in her eyes. As whistles and clapping sounds filled the room, Killian gave the audience a small, grateful smile before his gaze wandered, locking with Emma’s.

Although they were strangers, Emma felt a connection with him. It should scare her, and it did, but it also thrilled her. Somehow, she knew she’d found a kindred spirit, an orphan who didn’t want to risk his heart yet at the same time ached to.

She smiled at him, butterflies fluttering in her stomach as he lifted a corner of his lips in an attempt of smiling back at her. It was all so instinctive, so scary, so exciting. Honestly, Emma wanted to wait to ask him out; tonight there was too much going around, and she didn’t want Killian to think she was acting out of pity.

The night went on, and Emma downed another Cuba Libre along with an unhealthy amount of onion rings while listening to more “princesses”, Jasmine popping on the stage to sing Colors of the wind with her magnificent voice, Belle singing a medley of various Beauty and the Beast songs, a guest that had won the contest to sing here tonight, Sabine, sang Almost there from Princess and the frog so greatly Emma was stunned she was a simple baker. She also felt the urge to go down to New Orleans to taste her beignets: if she cooked like she sang, they would be simply heavenly.

At last, the Party came to an end, Emma going towards the stage thankful for her high alcohol tolerance: high heels – pumps this time, phew – and alcohol didn’t match well. Plus, no matter how much she tried to deny it, she wasn’t much coordinated when wearing heels; she decidedly wasn’t Ruby.

Somehow, she ended up standing next to Killian once again, this time behind the first row. As Will spoke, thanking the audience, Emma felt a warm, large hand on that part of her dress which was made only of lace, no white fabric underneath. She whipped her head to her right, eyes wide and a bright pink shade on her cheeks.

Killian was looking at her, a tentative, embarrassed smile on his lips. «I’m sorry I made you cry,» he apologised, his thumb tracing circles on her skin.

Who the hell apologises for that?!, Emma asked herself, eyeing him as if he’d grown a second and a third head. He was unbelievable, and it made her like him even more. «It was something worth crying for.»

His bright blue eyes widened at her response. He was about to say something when Will started playing and they were forced to turn away from each other, his hand never leaving her and his thumb somehow never stopping tracing circles as they sang.

Once again, Killian’s voice was right in her ear, so warm and strong like a fire capable of warming her up and destroying her at the same time.

Perhaps… perhaps it was the right time to ask him out.

Emma waited until she’d descended the stage, Killian motioning for her to precede him like a true gentleman. She didn’t wait too much before turning around so suddenly he stepped into her space, bumping into her and Emma would lie if she said she didn’t enjoy the contact, how his body felt pressed against hers.

«Sorry, lass.»

«I wanted to ask you out.»

Well, so much for taking it calmly.

Killian’s eyes widened and his – hopefully, definitely – soft lips parting as he exhaled. He blinked a few times, searching her face; Emma hoped he wasn’t searching for a lie, for a deception, knowing she would, knowing she would doubt whoever asked her out because she wasn’t that interesting, not for someone like him.

«Shouldn’t I be the one asking you out?»

At that, Emma laughed, shaking her head. Oh, he really was old fashioned. It was sweet, truly. «What are you, three-hundred?» she couldn’t help asking with a playful, fond smile.

Killian chuckled, shaking his head. He was still so close to her, his body heat radiating off him. «Aye, some days I feel so.» He turned serious, looking down at her. «Are you certain?»

Emma licked her lips. «I- don’t ask me why, but I want to try.» She wasn’t good with words, not good with emotions, but she was willing to put herself, her heart at risk.

For a long moment, Killian looked her in the eyes, searching, thinking, wondering, fearing. «I accept,» he said in a whisper, as if he feared saying it too loud would break the fragile confidence he’d mustered up to put his heart at stake, too.

A smile spread on Emma’s lips, soon mirrored by Killian. «Good,» she said, «tomorrow’s evening sounds good to you? Around ten, perhaps?»

Probably, Emma had thought about the date a bit too much, already kind of planning it, fantasizing on what she wanted them to do. She already had an itinerary in her head, a day for the two of them to enjoy – hopefully – and know each other.

Killian raised his eyebrows, clearly wondering where she had intention of going at such an ungodly hour, but he did something that made Emma’s heart flutter: he trusted her. «Alright, love, tomorrow at ten it is. Will you pick me up at my apartment?»

Oh, he’s cheeky, Emma mused, her smile widening. «Aye,» she replied, trying and failing to imitate his accent. It made him laugh, a loud, crystalline and joyful laugh that caused wrinkles to form at the corners of his eyes. A strange sensation warmed her from the inside, something Emma would even call happiness.

«Care for a drink, in the meantime?» he asked her, scratching behind his ear.

Emma squinted at him. «Is this your way of having a first date you can claim as yours?» Of course she was joking, she would love to have another drink with him, but she was drained and had been dreaming of her bed since the moment she left it that morning. «I’d love to, but I’d risk falling asleep on the stool. Sorry.»

He shook his head. «Don’t worry, love, I perfectly understand. It’s been quite a stressful day.» This time, his smile was tight and laced with anxiety.

Blindly, Emma reached for his hand, squeezing it. «They would be proud of you, Killian Jones.»

His breath hitched in his throat, Emma could hear it. For a moment, she feared she’d said too much, that she’d made a step too far, but Killian surprised her, bringing her hand to his mouth to kiss the back of it. «Thank you, Emma.»

There was a moment in which Emma found herself in some kind of afterlife where angels sang and unicorns wandered around. Nothing could describe the way she felt in that moment, when Killian called her Emma and placed his very soft lips onto her skin, his whiskers pleasantly scratching the delicate dermis, and his bright blue eyes boring into hers with so much intensity she would otherwise feel violated.

«Just the truth,» she breathed, her heart pounding so fast the blood pulsing in her ears almost deafened her. It took her almost a whole minute of gazing into his eyes before getting a hold on herself and getting down to business. «I’ll need your address if I have to pick you up.»

There should be nothing awkward about asking someone for their address or their number, but Emma had never had any experience in the dating territory. Part of her wondered if, had she been seeing a shrink about her relational issues, they’d tell her taking the first step was progress.

The corners of Killian’s lips curled into a cheeky smile. «I’m afraid I’ll need your phone number to do that.»

It took Emma aback. «Why can’t you just tell me?» There was a tinge of accusation in her voice, the sudden fear of being rejected flooding through her even if she’d decided to try and trust him.

As if he’d picked up on her fear, Killian turned serious, concern etching his face. «Apologies, love, I didn’t mean to sound like an idiot.» He inhaled deeply. «I’ve been out of the dating game for so long it appears I’ve forgotten manners.»

Emma snorted at that. «I honestly doubt that,» she retorted with a soft smile, her hand still in Killian’s; she wasn’t in any rush to pull it away, his thumb once again drawing circles on her skin. «It’s alright, it’s been so long for me as well.» After a deep breath, she added: «Having your number wouldn’t be that bad, actually.»

With that, she fished out her phone from the purse dangling from her wrist just when he handed her his, their hands still linked until they both chuckled, realizing they had to use both. It didn’t diminish the immediate sense of loss Emma felt inside, so absurd yet too real to not mean something.

Stifling a yawn, Emma took her phone back. Killian must’ve noticed, though, because he bit the inside of his lip to stop himself from smiling. «I’ll let you go back to your bed, Swan, I wouldn’t want you to fall asleep on our date. Not at the beginning, at least.» He even winked.

Cheeky bastard. She squared her shoulders, looking at him with an air of challenge. «I don’t pillage and plunder on the first date.»

He raised his eyebrows, his lips twitching, wanting to curl up into a smile, much like hers wanted to do, too. «Well, that’s because you haven’t been with me yet.» Only then Killian allowed himself to smile, a twinkle in his eyes that confirmed he was excited about their date. It made her smile back, happy. «See you tomorrow, love.»

Emma nodded, awkwardly waving her hand at him and smiling before turning around. And if she put a bit of sway in her step, feeling his eyes still on her, well, who could blame her?

What she’d not told Killian was that she was tired because that morning Emma had succumbed to Ruby’s power and went shopping with her.

Emma only hoped her idea of first date wasn’t too silly and didn’t drive him away. She wondered what could make him walk away when her rough past didn’t. Hopefully, she’d never have to find out.

With two paper cups, one of hot chocolate and one of coffee in a tray and a bag containing two chocolate donuts – thanks to Tilly, she had discovered Killian had somewhat of a sweet tooth – Emma waited for Killian to come down.

After he’d texted her his address – preceded by a banter that resulted in Emma bursting out laughing so loudly Odette got startled – she’d found out he didn’t live far from her at all.

Although she didn’t want to be too casual, her dress choice was strategic: they had to walk around a lot, so she’d chosen comfortable but stylish light brown ankle booties and a light pink dress that fell just below her knees, the skirt a bit sparkly. At first, it’d looked a bit too girly, too pink, but once she wore it, how it hugged her and gave her freedom of movement sealed the deal. Over it, she’d worn her usual red leather jacket, which with the light shade of pink didn’t clash.

Her hair tied in a low ponytail, some bobby pins keeping a few strands in place. Ruby had kept it simple, just like Emma had desired; Emma, though, was already contemplating letting it down and throw the pins away. What Ruby didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

«Sorry I’m late, love.»

Killian’s voice made her twirl around, only to discover he was holding a tray with two paper cups and a bag. Oh.

«Looks like we’ve had the same idea,» she smartly said, internally shaking her head at her own stupid choice of words. «Well, we’ve got half an hour of walk ahead of us, I guess we can burn both off. Not that I care, especially if there’s a hot chocolate in one of the cups and whatever you have in the bag has chocolate on it.»

He looked at the paper cups he was carrying. «There is, in fact, and it makes me owe Tilly marmalade sandwiches for a week.»

Emma raised her eyebrows at that. Her eyes wandered, noticing how Killian was dressed. She’d told him to dress comfortable, ready to walk a bit – Emma didn’t hate going to the gym per se, but if she could avoid it by burning calories as she ate them, well, all the better.

From what she was seeing and Ruby had told her, Killian seemed not to own anything lighter than a dark green shirt, unless you counted grey and the occasional white shirt for public appearances. Not that she minded: dark colours suited Killian pretty well. He was wearing black boots, skinny dark jeans and a dark blue shirt underneath a black leather jacket. Nope, she wasn’t complaining at all.

«Ruby demanded I make her breakfast for a week before telling me you love coffee with three spoonful of sugar and chocolate donuts.» At her words, Emma was delighted to see his cheeks redden in embarrassment. She wasn’t judging him, far from it; it wasn’t him the one who would be enjoying two cups of hot chocolate with whipped cream and cinnamon on top. «Ready to go?»

So they walked, Emma already knowing the way but not letting Killian know about where they were going. She wanted to surprise him, hopefully in a good way. They talked, getting to know each other over the late breakfast they were having, light topics such as favourite book or movie – or musical.

Emma was finishing the last bite of her second donut when they arrived in front of the MoMath. Expectantly, she turned to look at Killian, blinding hope in her eyes, hope that her first choice wasn’t too stupid or too boring for him.

«The National Museum of Mathematics?» Emma held back a snort, he obviously would refer to it with its extended name. When he returned her gaze, she was pleased to discover his eyes were sparkling with withheld joy, the same eagerness you’d find in a child’s eyes on Christmas’ morning. It suited him, and Emma liked that look on him, a look of pure happiness.

Cheeks aflame, she shrugged, sipping the last of her second hot chocolate before replying: «Ruby was ordered to tell me you were a bit of a science nerd and, well, I’m not big on math, but I thought it would be nice to combine math and fun.»

Once again, Killian surprised her, shaking his head and grabbing her hand. «This is perfect, Swan. I’ve never been here before but always wanted to.»

Perhaps she should consider calling the 911 because her heart was doing absurd things. She also feared she was high on happiness. «What do you say, Jones? Talk math to me?»

Killian threw his head back and laughed. In that moment, Emma realized she’d fallen in love with his laugh.

They exited the MoMath almost three hours later, Emma’s head so full of information about math she was likely to forget as soon as she stopped thinking about it and tried to find a logic in everything Killian had explained. It didn’t take much, especially not with how her stomach started to rumble loudly.

«Let’s go, I’m starving,» she told him, dragging him with her; her hand had been in his most of the time, a gesture so natural Emma even forgot it was a first date, something that should’ve been awkward, not… perfect. Almost perfect, alright, but her point still stood.

There was a street vendor from whom they bought two hot dogs and fries along with two bottles of water, Killian insisting on paying at least that, Emma grumbling under her breath. Usually, she wouldn’t complain about a free meal, but that was her date, she was the one supposed to pay for him, not the other way around.

Killian woke her from her reverie by smacking a kiss on her cheek. «You can offer me dinner,» he told her with a wink, the apples of his cheeks bright red because of the kiss.

There was a tiny part of her mind still hung up on scientific explanations wondering if she was about to die of spontaneous combustion. Probably. Definitely.

It was strange: they didn’t know each other, practically not at all if not through their acquaintances, yet they understood each other. Emma had never experienced that, not on such an exciting and scaring level.

«Yeah, you might want me to buy you dinner after I tell you we have to go back to where we were this morning,» she mumbled after her lungs started to function properly again. She really was bad at planning dates.

Next to her, Killian huffed, shaking his head. «Emma, it’s just a thirty minutes’ walk, forty at best, not three hours. Besides, it’s more time spent with you; I won’t be complaining about that.»

If she wasn’t about to die from spontaneous combustion already, Emma would probably start dying now.

In that moment, she didn’t care about the food in her hands, the fact that she couldn’t just grab the lapels of his jacket, because it didn’t stop her from stepping into his space, raising herself on her tiptoes and kiss the holy hell out of him.

It was awkward at the beginning, they couldn’t touch themselves, hold on to each other, but then Killian, somehow, wrapped his arms around her middle, drawing her closer to himself, the hard planes of his chest deliciously pressed against her body.

Emma traced his lower lip with the tip of her tongue, seeking entrance, ready to deepen the kiss, to taste coffee and chocolate on her tongue since they’d not had any chance to eat anything. Delicious.

They kissed in the middle of the sidewalk ignoring catcalls and whistles, simply losing themselves in one another, chocolate with just the right amount of coffee for the both of them, a perfect combination.

After a minute, an hour, a year, a century, Emma lowered herself back onto the balls of her feet, slowly opening her eyes in fear it’d all disappear. But when she did, she found herself looking at Killian’s wide, warm, hopeful smile illuminating his face.

In that moment, Emma knew that if she had to describe the rising sun, she would only see his smile.

 Act III – With everything to win the only thing I lose is you

 There was someone murmuring in the distance. It was disturbing her sleep. She shuffled even more beneath the blankets, covering her head with them but leaving an open spot for oxygen.

The murmuring didn’t stop, but it wasn’t as loud as before. Humming and relishing in the warmth of her bed, Emma tried to fall back asleep. Apparently, her cat had other ideas.

Odette jumped on her, all her four legs pressing into her back and side and a loud meow this close to ripping her eardrums as Emma groaned loudly.

«What have I told you, lass?» Emma heard Killian sigh at her cat. She smiled in her dark cocoon: he was perfect with Odette, and Odette had warmed up to him with time. It helped that he treated her like a woman rather than a cat, or at least this was what Emma believed. There was something about Killian Jones that made everyone fall in love with him.

Ah, yeah, that.

It had been almost six months since their first, wonderful date – they had to repeat the experience at SpyScape because of how wonderful it had been and how much competitive they both had been, challenging each other – and time had just flown by.

Dating someone with the same working hours as yours was quite perfect: it gave both of them time for ourselves and away from each other, but also didn’t stress them because of clashing schedules. Whoever finished first – usually Killian, Emma usually lost track of time at the stage doors with the fans – went to pick up the other and, when Killian showed up, fans went crazy, the same thing happening when Emma was the one surprising Killian’s fans.

At first they just spent time together, eating or watching a movie, or even just talking until one or both of them were tired. More than once Emma had fallen asleep on Killian’s couch and woken up in his bed, the other side of which not slept in because her boyfriend – the term making her feel like a damn schoolgirl – was a perfect gentleman.

They kissed, a lot, hands wandering, but never went too far. That is, until Emma just decided she had had enough and, into two months of their relationship, she’d organized a dinner date at her apartment, wearing sexy lingerie bought for the occasion underneath a tight red dress that Killian took his time to give his attention to before passing to her body. And oh, he was an extremely attentive man.

She felt the mattress dip and a deep breath of fresh air filled her nostrils with the scent chocolate. Emma didn’t need Killian to gently woke her, she just sniffed her way out of under the blanket, the light slightly blinding her as she blinked rapidly to focus on the tray of baked goods Killian had prepared.

«Mhm, something smells delicious,» she mumbled sitting up, her eyes going straight to the spread of pancakes, French toast and croissants. There were two mugs of hot chocolate topped with whipped cream and cinnamon. Emma frowned. «Did I miss an anniversary or something?»

It was the first time she had someone to mark milestones with, and the thought of forgetting something important scared her, especially because she cared about Killian, so much she even-

«Only your birthday, love,» Killian chuckled, leaning forward to kiss her on her cheek.

Oh. It was already October 23rd, how strange. She blushed and smiled, turning her head to kiss him. He tasted like chocolate. «Thank you.» I love you.

Yes, she knew she loved him, during the last months she had fallen for him and her feelings kept growing and growing she was afraid she’d burst. The only thing that was holding her back from saying the words was that fear she had that, once she did, everything would fall apart.

«You’re welcome, Swan.» Killian handed her a plate and a fork, which she filled with two French toasts, leaving Killian the other two. Inside, they were stuffed with chocolate and strawberries. God, she could marry this man. She almost chocked at the thought, Killian’s face filling with worry.

Emma shook her head, managing a smile and a sip of hot chocolate. «I’m okay,» she breathed, gulping down another mouthful of chocolate. «You’re spoiling me.» Not that she was complaining, she just never had a breakfast in bed on her birthday before – Killian had brought it to her every once in a while, making her always feel loved.

She devoured the toasts, immediately passing to the pancakes, on which she poured chocolate sauce. Killian chuckled and did the same, their passion for desserts never diminishing. They’d probably end up getting diabetes.

«You’re amazing,» Emma said with her mouth stuffed with pancakes.

«Aye, you tell me every time I cook for you,» he joked, settling himself against what had become his pillow, the one upon Odette once used to sleep every night. Emma inched towards him, settling into him. Odette had wrapped herself like a donut at the foot of the bed, softly purring in her sleep. «You’re amazing too, love. Happy birthday.»

Emma looked up at him, hoping all her love for him was visible even if she hadn’t said the words. She loved him, she couldn’t nor wouldn’t deny it, and although she didn’t feel brave enough to say it, Killian deserved to know he was loved. «Thank you, Killian. I mean it. I’ve never had someone caring for me as much as you do. I-I love it.» I love you. It wasn’t it, but the way his eyes lit up made her feel as if she’d said those three words out loud.

«And I love taking care of you.»

It wasn’t “I love you”, but it was a close thing, it was something no one ever said to her, something that made her heart flutter and love him even more, because he too wasn’t ready to say the words yet she could see the way he looked at her, the way he not so secretly glanced her way every time he thought she wasn’t looking, how he treated her with respect and love, as if she was the most precious thing in the world.

Perhaps, well, perhaps words were overrated.

«What do you mean you’ll arrive just in time for the Party?»

Honestly, Emma couldn’t blame him, Killian didn’t have any power over British airlines or storms. But Emma had also missed him, her bed too empty without him. It was so strange how much attached to Killian she’d become, sometimes making her wonder if she was too attached, until she realized the longing, the want of spending most of her free time with him was completely normal.

«I know, love,» Killian grumbled, not angry at her rather at the flight company and the fact that he had been away from her for too long.

On Wednesday, in fact, Killian had flown to London to supervise the casting of a new Captain Hook for the London musical. However, it had been a disaster. While there were many qualified candidates, it was also true Hook had been built around Killian, Killian was James, there wasn’t someone like him, someone capable of giving Hook depth, this tormented soul air, something only someone who’d known pain could. This meant Killian would have to go to London again, for more than a week even, to train whoever they’d choose.

Emma sighed. «I can talk to Will and ask him to-»

«No, no, no, no, no, no. No. Absolutely not, love: I won’t let time zones and jet lag ruin Will’s Halloween night. I owe him. And I want to sing with you.»

That was the problem: it was the first time they would sing together in public, per Will’s request, they knew the song but had never rehearsed it. «I want to sing with you too,» she confessed with a sigh, looking at Killian on her screen. She had to go back on stage soon, she could hear Cruella finishing her song, and though she had to wait for her duet with Hades – who the hell named their son that? – Emma didn’t want to cause any delay just because she missed her boyfriend too much. They had already used the couch behind her for more enjoyable activities that time Killian had taken a night off and attended her musical, coming backstage and insisting he be the one taking off her red gown.

She must’ve blushed because Killian chuckled. «Don’t worry, love, I’ll soon be back to you.»

«You can start by going to bed, Killian! It must be past one in the morning for you!» Emma knew jet lag was a bitch, but if he didn’t wake up in time he risked losing the plane and would have to delay his return of another day. She definitely didn’t want that.

«Aye, Captain,» he joked, making her smile. «Now go, make them see Heaven, love.»

In a total schoolgirl fashion, Emma blew a kiss at him, which he pretended to catch with a wink, and closed the call.

«Seriously, Emma, you’re going to have to pay for my denture.»

Fortunately for her, Emma had Ruby to lighten her mood.

The costume department would kill her. Or maybe not. They had let her borrow the dress, made her sign lots of paperwork, she now hoped she didn’t ruin it. She’d opted – alright, Ruby had – for a higher pair of heels, and she wasn’t wearing a wig, her real hair twisted into a bun with a few strands framing her face and a headband serving like a tiara.

Will, in fact, had asked the guests to come dressed up as the characters they’d played, or at least something that resembled them. If they were able to give them a horror twist, even better. Emma had decided not to wear the gloves, the charms bracelet Killian had gifted her for her birthday shining under the lights.

«Where the bloody hell is that wanker?» Emma heard Will grumble under his breath. As far as they knew, Killian had landed and was making his way to the Party. Will had already scheduled their performance as the last one, but if the man didn’t show up, goodbye performance.

Emma placed her hand on the man’s arm. «You start with the party, I’ll go call him. He’s promised he’ll be here, and he will.»

«He better, or I know where I’ll put that hook of his.»

Great, Emma sighed to herself as Will slipped into his Fairy Godfairy being. He didn’t need to know Emma had been trying to call her boyfriend for half an hour already, letting the fear that he wouldn’t show up overcome the one the lyrics of the song had instilled in her.

Almost an hour went by, Emma tormenting paper napkins instead of her fingernails only because Ruby was watching her like a hawk, ready to cut her hands off if she even tried to bring them to her mouth unless it was for eating or drinking.

«Sorry I’m late.»

Killian’s voice made her jump and whip her head around. His appearance, instead, made her heart stop beating.

Unlike Killian, Emma had never seen one of his shows, and seeing photos or videos was completely different than seeing him clad in his pirate costume with her own two eyes. Fuck me.

Her boyfriend chuckled, the tips of his ears a deep red. «We can talk about our love for roleplays when there’s only the two of us.»

Oh fuck, she’d said that out loud. Next to her, Ruby was biting her lip not to laugh in her face. «I’ll definitely hold you on to that,» Emma replied, trying to maintain what little dignity was left in her. She let her gaze wander hungrily, from the boots up to his leather-clad legs, the red velvet vest over the black shirt that let her see a wide expanse of his chest and chest hair she was very familiar with, the charms he always wore even when not on stage nestled among the dark hair. Last, there was his long leather coat, the one she knew was so heavy he had to keep a certain position. Only when she looked him in her eyes she noticed one last touch. «You put guyliner on.» It should be illegal, the make-up making his already oh so blue eyes stand out.

Killian grinned, using his hand to move a strand of hair from her face. No, not his hand, his hook. «Again, apologies, love. I had to stop by the theatre and pick the costume up. I didn’t want to ruin the surprise.» He leaned forward, whispering in her ear: «And I get to keep it until Tuesday.»

A shiver ran down her spine at the implied promise in his words, her mouth suddenly dry. «Good.» Needing to feel him, she stretched her neck to kiss him, not caring of the fans snapping photos of them. He was finally back, and she didn’t want him to fly back to London anytime soon.

He sat down next to her, his ringed hand finding its place on the small of her back, the hook set on the table until it was time to perform. It was so good having him there again, his presence bringing her peace even though he was able to stir a tempest in her.

Emma relaxed into him, not caring much about her hair – Ruby had yet to bite her head off –, immediately feeling him circling her waist with his arm. «I’ve missed you,» Killian murmured against her temple, pressing a kiss there. She’d noticed he loved doing that, and she’d grown rather fond of the gesture. More than fond, to be honest.

His words made her smile. «I’ve missed you too.» The fact that she’d missed him, that she missed him every time they were separated, confirmed what her asshole of an ex-boyfriend once told her, that home was the place that, when you left, you just missed it. For Emma, home wasn’t just a place, it wasn’t just New York, but it was a person. For Emma, home was Killian.

In these past days, Emma had decided she would tell Killian she loved him tonight. After the Party, after their performance, she would tell him-

«And now, since he’s finally joined us, I summon the terror of the seven seas – and of my schedule – and his lovely lady. Ladies and gentlemen, please on your feet for the Captain and his Mistress!»

The crowd went wild, making Emma laugh, laughter that carried on as Killian stood, hook in place, bowing to her as he offered her his arm. «Milady.»

Her eyebrows shot up in amusement but accepted his hand nonetheless. «Captain,» Emma teased him, preceding him towards the stage, their fingers intertwined. People all around aahed and oohed at the sight of the lost princess and her pirate. For many that was probably the first time seeing either one – or even both – of them with their signature costumes on.

«My dear, you look wonderful,» Will told Emma the moment they reached the stage. At his words, Killian lifted their hands and made her twirl around, the light catching the jewels that adorned the dark blue dress.

Emma laughed, bowing mockingly in Will’s direction. «Thank you, Fairy Godfairy.»

«Captain, you’re… fit to be seen.» Will added a grimace for good measure.

«Oi! Watch your tongue, mate,» Killian threatened him, his voice holding no malice.

Will rolled his eyes. «Aye aye, Captain. What I’m interested in, though, my dear, sweet children, is how the two of you have met: a princess and a pirate, the perfect fairytale, isn’t it?»

As Will pronounced the last words, Emma turned her head towards Killian, her eyes locking with his. «Indeed it is,» she confirmed dreamily speaking into the microphone she had picked up from the piano lid, handing the other one to Killian. The moment they stopped holding hands, Emma’s had immediately found the hook, her fingers curling around the cool metal as if it was a normal thing to do. She turned to Will, a glint in her eyes. Not having rehearsed it, they didn’t know how the intro would work, but since Emma had shown up before Killian, she and Will had worked something out. «We actually met here, you know? It was the first time we ever saw each other, but somehow we clicked right from the start.»

«Aye,» Killian agreed fondly, «and you’d think I was the one doing the courting, but it was her who asked me out instead!»

The crowd burst out laughing at that, and Emma shook her head, her smile widening. «Of course I did! I may be a princess, but I’m not a damsel in distress: the only one who saves me is me.» She even patted him on the cheek. He turned his head immediately, kissing her palm.

«As I told you, love, you are bloody brilliant,» he told her devoutly, love pouring from his eyes. I love you, she thought, hoping her smile would tell him what she couldn’t say yet. He then turned towards the crowd, hand a hook swinging between them. «So, I went and picked her up in my brother’s car,» Killian began, turning towards her, «and you were wearing your pink dress-»

Emma snorted at that, the fact that just like in the song it was pink. «Blue,» she corrected him, her cheeks hurting from how much she was smiling.

«Oh, you always look great in blue,» he amended giving her a once-over, «and I’m in my rented tux, looking like a total dork. Ah, it is all kind of cheesy, but… nice. And then you drag me onto the dance floor, and of course I hate dancing, but it’s the last night, the last dance of senior year, and I’m with you. The most incredible person I know.»

Deep down, Emma knew it was part of the song, and though their relationship was real, she couldn’t detect any lie in Killian’s words. He wasn’t lying: to him, she was the most incredible person he knew.

A blush spread over her cheeks at the realization. «Yeah, right,» she dismissed his words shaking her head, «all I do lately is mess up.»

But Killian held her gaze, cerulean irises looking right into her soul. «I mean it. You don’t give yourself enough credit.» And then, he began to sing: «If you could see the way that you look to me, I bet that you'd be amazed at the sight.»

«Killian-» Fuck, she was supposed to call him Tommy, not by his true name. Her eyes widened, much like his smile did as he kept singing.

«You'd see a heart that's fearless and true. From my point of view oh, you shine.» No, Killian wasn’t just singing, he was describing her, he was… declaring his feelings.

Gulping, Emma swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. «What about you? Why is it all so easy for you?» Why do you love me when I’m such a mess?

He shook his head. «Man, if you only knew,» Killian scoffed, «half the time I'm just faking it, hoping that no one will discover I'm a complete fraud.»

Emma knew what he meant: he was afraid people discovered how broken he truly was after all the pain he’d gone through. She wanted to squeeze his hand, or his hook, but they’d stepped away for acting purposes.

Tears welled up in her eyes. Yes, tonight was the right night to tell him she loved him. «I think you hide so much you feel inside, but I know deep down there's a fire burning bright. From where you stand it might not be clear, but you shine from here.»

Just like a couple arguing over who shone the brightest, they both sang at the same time: «No doubts, no more fears, I see you shine and the dark disappears.» And it was true: since the moment he’d stepped into her life, Killian had brightened up her life like nobody before ever had.

Still looking into her eyes, Killian stepped closer, reaching out with his left arm. «Then I know everything is gonna be fine, because you shine, oh how you shine.» The moment her fingers closed around the curved metal, Killian lifted their arms above their heads and made a giggling Emma twirl. «You shine.» He then drew her closer to his chest, the hand holding the microphone placed on her waist, making it look like as if they were dancing.

Emma looked up at him, blinking furiously to keep the tears at bay as Killian started to sway them and she followed his movements, knowing he was the perfect dancing partner as he’d already showed her on many occasions. «What a surprise, gazing into your eyes, I swear that I still get lost in the light. No photograph could possibly show the you I know.»

She hoped with all her being that he, too, understood how much he meant to her, how bloody brilliant he was: Killian was the best person Emma had ever met.

«No doubts, no more fears, I see you shine and the dark disappears. I'll be your mirror and you can be mine, look to me and you'll see just how you shine.»

They sang those words to each other, the song connecting them in so many different and invisible ways Emma was surprised she could almost feel the fire burning in Killian’s eyes, a fire that wouldn’t burn, a fire that made her feel home.

Stepping away from her and into character, Killian brought the hook to his forehead. «Bloody hell, I’ve got to go pick up my tux before they close.»

When he went to step down the stage, Emma rushed to stop him. «Killian?» Well, you can’t just change names, can you? Killian stopped and turned around, looking at her from below. «Thank you.»

Her heart started to beat frantically in her chest, knowing which words he was about to pronounce, words she would have to say back, words they both would’ve taken their time to say out loud without that musical push.

«I love you.»

In that moment, Emma felt as if she could burst with joy. A lonely tear rolled down her cheek, making concern flashing over Killian’s visage. «I love you,» she repeated, knowing he should’ve already turned around, so she instead stepped at the center of the stage, talking to the crowd to restrain herself from flying into his arms and kiss him breathless. «He never said that before. That’s what I remember most about that day.» Emma smiled, closing her eyes for a brief second. «No doubts, no more fears. I see you shine and the dark disappears. And I know everything is gonna be fine, because you're mine. You shine.»

Everyone went wild, screaming and applauding them and Emma was about to walk towards the steps and go back to her table when something cold and solid grabbed her around the arm and made her whip around. She barely had the time to register Killian’s face before his lips were on hers, desperate, hungry as never before.

She kissed him back, not caring it was in front of everyone and they would end up on social medias: in that moment only she and Killian counted, only them and the words Killian whispered against her lips.

«I love you,» he murmured low enough for only her to hear, «I love you, Emma.»

If someone asked Emma to describe what love was, she would only come up with one name.

«I love you, Killian.»

November had come and gone, and for the first time ever Emma had attended Ruby’s Granny’s Thanksgiving dinner to which she’d dragged her boyfriend. Emma adored Granny, she fixed her with free hot chocolate every time she went to the diner, what she had feared was Granny would pull out her crossbow and confront Killian on his intentions. She hadn’t, but Emma wouldn’t have put it past her.

They were now in the middle of December and Emma had no idea what to gift Killian for Christmas. He had given her a bracelet for her birthday, but she wanted their first Christmas together to be perfect.

He was a science nerd, but she had no way of knowing whether what she was looking for was nerdy or accurate enough. So she had moved onto another of Killian’s passion: the sea. Her moral support, this time, had been Tilly.

The girl had been so helpful Emma had decided to gift her an old copy of Robin Hood she had found and hoped Tilly would love. In fact, Tilly had not only told her what Killian could like, but also made the gift herself.

Aside from a great voice, Tilly was a talented painter: Emma had witnessed her art in Killian’s changing room when she’d visited between shows – it wasn’t fair he got to see hers but not the other way around, was it? – and had found paintings and drawings Tilly had made representing various things, people or animals or landscapes and even a sketch made on a napkin of their kiss at the Halloween Party, the one that had changed everything yet changed nothing.

Emma stretched onto Killian’s bed, finding the other side empty and cold. Lately, Killian seemed distant, something that had never happened before. It scared her, but she wanted to trust him, to trust that he would confide in her.

She stood, picking up his shirt and wrapping it around herself, closing only two buttons and wearing a pair of boxers she found in his underwear drawer. It wasn’t the first time she stole his clothes, and they were more comfortable than her own.

Blinking the sleep away, Emma made her way to the kitchen, where she found Killian bent over the island, hands gripping his hair and eyes framed by dark circles. Sensing his distress, Emma moved towards him, circling his waist from behind and burying her face between his shoulder blades. «What is it?»

She didn’t want to know, afraid of what his words would mean, of what would happen to them once they left his mouth.

«They want me to go to London.»

Emma frowned. It wasn’t nothing new. In fact, Killian had flown to London at the end of November again for another week of auditions, but he was not like this, not so… haunted.

Then, suddenly, it sunk in: Killian didn’t have to go to London for another round of auditions, they wanted him to go to London to play Hook.

«They’re going to end the production?» There was as lump in her throat, tears welling in her eyes at the realization of what meant for them. That was one of the difficulties of being a Broadway performer: relationships weren’t easy, and while it wasn’t frowned upon, not many actors had one.

Killian nodded, gulping loudly. «Next month.»

It was as if he’d plunged his hand into her chest and pulled her heart out, crushing it and reducing it to ash. Emma didn’t need to look at him to see an anguished expression, to see he was angry at the world and couldn’t do anything to change it.

«That’s… soon,» she breathed, fisting her hands onto his t-shirt, as if trying to anchor herself to him.

«Aye,» he spat, his hands covering hers, his fingers tightening around hers. «Too soon.»

Rationally, Emma knew what it meant for them, she knew that a show in London would kill their relationship, if not immediately, in time. But she still had to ask. «You can’t turn them down?»

It was selfish, she knew that, and she didn’t know if she’d do the same, if she was able to give everything up for Killian, for someone whom she wanted to believe would stay but had no guarantee that he would.

Killian sighed, turning around and bringing her close, burying his nose in her hair. «I was a bloody fool, Swan.» He tightened her grip around her, as if he didn’t want her to go away. «My contract ties me to the show. I-I don’t know how I could be so stupid.»

That was it. The end of them. It didn’t matter, there was a contract, there was a fucking contract neither of them could rip no matter how much they wanted to. If Killian was forced to leave, he would have to stay in London for years, even, and their relationship would just… fade away until nothing was left.

Emma knew he’d tried to find a solution, a way to stay there, with her, but now he would just… leave.

She pulled away from him, her walls starting to rise again around her heart. «This is it, then,» she murmured, fighting back the tears, «this is how it ends. And don’t try to tell me we can make this work. We both know how difficult it would be.»

There was a moment in which silence filled the air, until Killian spoke, his voice broken. «I don’t want to lose you.»

Emma closed her eyes, feeling the tears rolling down her cheeks. «I don’t want to lose you either, Killian,» she admitted, «but it won’t work, not with an ocean between us, not when it could take us months before seeing each other in person. I- Killian, I don’t know if I could do that.»

Yes, it was selfish, but Emma knew he couldn’t do it either, no matter how much they loved each other.

Killian gulped, his hands buried in her hair, desperate of keeping her here, of staying. «I love you, Emma Swan. So bloody much.»

Shock coursed through Emma when she realized it was the first time Killian cried in front of her. It didn’t help quench her sobs. «I love you, too.»

They kissed, a wet, desperate, last kiss containing everything they wouldn’t and couldn’t say to each other, feelings that couldn’t simply be expressed in words, emotions so painful when they should’ve only brought them joy.

He rested his forehead against hers, his fingertips brushing away Emma’s tears. «I don’t want to go-»

«But you need to,» Emma cut him off, not ready to hear his excuses, or anything that would make him beg to stay when it was taking all her strength not to.

«Aye, I do, but I won’t stop fighting for us, Emma.»

She pulled away, looking at him with a hurt gaze. «Do not make promises you can’t keep, Killian.» Her tone was sharp despite her wobbly chin and the lump in her throat. She wouldn’t accept false promises, not now, not from him.

«I’m not, I’m not promising I will return soon, and I’m not-» he gulped, looking away from her for a moment, a muscle ticking in his jaw. «I’m not asking you to wait for me, but know this: I will try to find a loophole. Don’t give up hope, come what may.»

I know it all will come back, one day.

Emma wanted to be mad at him, she wanted to hate him, yet she loved him even more. «I won’t,» she promised, not daring looking him in the eyes. «I need to go.»

Understanding, Killian placed a kiss first on her forehead, then on her hand, squeezing her fingers as she pulled away. It was better that way, breaking up without screams, because they both knew what they’d signed up for when they’d started dating, because they’d both thought they could have a long and lasting relationship when others hadn’t.

Because, for the first time in forever, they had thought their love was enough to keep them together. But instead, their love for music was driving them apart.

For the first time in her career, once snuggled on the couch with Odette close to her heart, Emma called in sick.

 Act IV – Meant to be

 Christmas was a disaster.

It was supposed to be their first one together, yet they spent it separated, not bearing to spend more time together knowing it wouldn’t last. It was better that way. Yes, yes, it was a lie, but there was nothing they could do to change things.

Their break-up could seem strange, as if neither of them wanted to fight for each other, but it wasn’t like that: Emma and Killian had entered a relationship knowing one day their shows would end, forcing them to decide where to go, where to search for a new role. They could end up acting in a tour, and that would separate them anyway.

What Emma regretted, though, was she hadn’t fought alongside Killian to try to find a loophole, a solution, something that didn’t involve them having to break up. After the first week, Emma had gone over her contract to see if there was a similar clause, but the fact that it wasn’t didn’t cheer her up, especially after she saw the no-pregnancy clause. Not that she wanted children right away, not so soon, at least, but on day. Unfortunately, pregnancies could happen at any time, and Emma didn’t want to think what the consequence would be.

She’d been quick to banish the thought, not wanting to dwell on what might have been if Killian had stayed.

The painting Tilly had made for Killian still sat wrapped up in a corner of her closet. The calm before the storm, indeed.

New Year’s Eve came and went by in silence, with a marathon of romantic movies she didn’t really watch, her eyes too full of tears.

While it wouldn’t be the first time she saw the ball drop, she had hoped she would be kissing her boyfriend at midnight. The only one she kissed at midnight was Odette, just as Buttercup and Westley reunited.

«Death cannot stop true love, all it can do is delay it for a while.»

Emma cried into her cat’s fur at the words.

Focusing on her performances, Emma’s life went on. Her friends often voiced their opinion, saying she looked like a shell. It was true, she was almost lifeless, hollow, and Emma didn’t really care, she only wanted Killian back but knew it couldn’t happen.

Tilly and Margot still kept in contact with her and Ruby, never actually talking about Killian – of which Emma was thankful – but it didn’t stop Tilly from dropping hints about how he was faring. He too was miserable.

It didn’t help. Emma wanted him to be happy, no matter how much she wasn’t. Funny, though, somehow she knew he felt the same miles and miles away.

It was the middle of March, now, just days away from Killian’s birthday, almost a month into the opening of his musical in London and Emma was still there, singing, acting, but not living. It was starting to irritate her, honestly: how were people able of moving on after a break-up? It had been months, and Emma still hoped her door would open and Kilian would enter or that he would be here, waiting for her after a stressful day. She was scared of how many times she’d crumpled to the ground at the realization he wasn’t there, nor he would be ever again.

Tonight she didn’t want to go outside, she didn’t want to go to another Broadway Princess Party. Emma had denied Will too many times already, and the producers had decided to have her and Graham record At the beginning after the increasing demand from the fans, so singing it at the party wouldn’t be so bad, would it? She just needed to put her usual mask on and face the world like the most coward of superheroines.

Emma sighed, looking into the mirror. Ruby had passed her a green and black dress, a nice one Emma would enjoy wearing hadn’t she lost sight of any fashion lately. Around the middle of January, she had found one of Killian’s shirt in the depths of her closet. She wore it for almost a week before Ruby almost ripped it off her to put it in the washer.

Oh, it had been a very rough few months indeed. What she hated the most, was that she didn’t know how much longer she would keep feeling like this, how long would it take for her to feel whole again. Some days, Emma felt as if she would never be complete anymore; a look at the anchor dangling from her wrist confirming her suspicion.

She sighed again.

«Come, now, Ems, we need to go. I promise you I’ll buy all the alcohol and onion rings you want. Chop chop,» Ruby came to stand next to her, reaching out with her hands to fluff up Emma’s hair, the curls she’d carefully styled earlier not one of Emma’s first priorities.

«Do I really need to do this?»

Ruby’s expression was unreadable, yet it didn’t show any pity. Nah, Ruby had never been one to pity people, she was more like an “act first, talk later” kind of girl, much like Emma, which was another aspect that tied them together: they were so similar but different at the same time, that’s why they worked well together.

Emma’s reflection squinted at Ruby. «Add one or two donuts on the way home and we’re good.»

«Deal! Now, hurry up! Graham promised the first round if we could make it in time and you know how much I hate losing a bet.»

Emma couldn’t help the snort that escaped her: Ruby was more worried about losing a bet, especially with Graham, than being late. She applauded Graham for finding the perfect bet for Ruby.

After gracing her with a tiny smile, Emma grabbed her coat and bent down to kiss Odette on the head. The cat growled a bit as she was sleeping curled up on a couch cushion, clearly not wanting to be disturbed. «Love you too, missy.»

One of the things Emma was glad of, was that Ruby hadn’t tried to meddle with her love life. Honestly, she wasn’t expecting her to do it, her friend must’ve seen how crushed she still was and decided not to try and introduce her to someone she would probably simply ignore. Or punch them in the face.

Graham greeted them with a Cuba Libre for Emma and a Hurricane for Ruby. «Right on time, you two,» he joked, kissing them on the cheeks before sitting back on his stool, offering a basket of fresh made onion rings.

«As if you were never late,» Emma retorted, hugging the basket to her chest and popping a ring into her mouth. Warm, crispy and delicious. She’d missed them, honestly, no matter how good Granny’s were.

«Remind me when you’re singing?» Ruby asked, not so subtly changing the topic, her phone already out and her fingers ready to fly over the keyboard. Emma wondered if she would finally meet her new girlfriend.

«We’re last, nothing new,» Graham snorted, his finger tracing a path towards the onion rings basket.

Emma was swift to slap it and glare at him. «Try that again if you want to find out what’s like lacking a limb.» Her voice was as cold as ice, just like her stare, but both knew she would never act on her threat. Probably. Hopefully. «You like fries better, order yours and don’t steal mine.»

Graham rolled his eyes, but ordered two basket of fries, knowing Ruby would steal them anyway. «Will you stop with that phone?»

The glare he received from Ruby could’ve killed him on the spot. In fact, Graham blanched and gulped, ducking his head between his shoulders.

With her blood red lips stretched into a radiant smile at his reaction, Ruby turned to Emma. «So, have you fangirled over Nick Pitera already? Did he run away scared?»

Heat rose to Emma’s cheeks. Nick was probably the actual reason why Emma had accepted to sing tonight. He was amazing and she loved his videos and his voice was perfect, how he could go from one octave to another. Oh, she looked forward for his duet with Jasmine; she’d even cried from laughter during the rehearsal, catching Graham’s look of surprise and his fond smile. It’d probably been the first time she laughed since that fatidic day, completely out of nowhere. Perhaps she would be alright with time.

She laughed again that night as Nick and Jasmine performed, Nick stealing her part with his wonderful voice. As time ticked by, Emma caught Ruby’s stare on her, worrying her when she started to bite down on her nails. Not once Emma had seen her friend doing that. «You alright?» she whispered, worried.

Ruby was quick to nod, a fake smile on her face as she munched on a fry. «All perfect, really. Dorothy should be here at any moment.»

Emma’s eyebrow shot up. «We’re going to finally meet her?» For someone so extroverted like her, Ruby liked to keep her personal life private, especially when it went past one-night stands, which she was really glad to gossip – or complain – about.

«Yep! She’s just running late because of work, she’s a vet and someone brought her a dog involved in an accident of sorts at the very end of her shift.»

«Hey, it’s alright,» Emma calmed her down, laying a hand on her friend’s arm. «Animals always come first, and if she can’t make it you can still introduce us another day.»

The small smile Ruby conjured was tiny but grateful. It was strange seeing Ruby so insecure, and Emma somehow knew it was also her fault: Ruby had found someone to be happy with just after she’d lost the love of her life. Truth to be told, Emma felt awful herself for her selfishness, the least she could do was assure her best friend that she didn’t need to put her life on hold because of her. Ruby deserved to be happy.

After one last sip on her cocktail, Emma stood, the Party now coming to an end. Graham had already reached the other side of the room, just like they’d planned. She couldn’t help but remember the last time she’d attended the Party, singing with Killian, telling him she loved him.

Gulping down the lump that had formed in her throat, Emma faked a smile and stepped on stage just as Will presented her as the wandering Princess.

«I’m so excited to have finally arrived!» Emma lied, the mask she was wearing not giving anything away as she faced the crowd. She sighed long and loud for the act, one hand on her hip and the other holding the mic. «It’s been a very long, long road to Broadway, Fairy Godfairy: Saint Petersburg, and Paris, oh, Paris. And Hartford, Connecticut.»

The fans laughed at that, her smile becoming more genuine. They deserved a good performance, especially after all the letters she’d received from fans saying they were sad to hear about her break-up.

She was about to go on with her piece when Graham cut her off earlier than planned. «Princess!»

Blinking in surprise, Emma followed the script. «Dimitri!»

Graham made his way to the stage wriggling his way between the tables and the many screaming fans. «Princess! I’ve finally found you!» He reached her, paying his respects with a bow that made her heart clench, memories of someone else bowing before her threatening to overwhelm her.

Forcing herself to stay in character, Emma widened her smile, her cheeks hurting from the stretch. «What took you so long?»

Graham shrugged. «Had to escape the police, train a girl to become a noblewoman, take a train, go to Paris, lose the girl of my dreams, then take said girl to a place called Hartford, then accompany her to Broadway.»

«Sounds quite the tale.»

«More like a very long journey.»

That was Will’s cue to begin, his fingers pressing gently onto the keys as Emma brought the mic near her lips. «We were strangers starting out on a journey, never dreaming what we'd have to go through. Now here we are and I'm suddenly standing at the beginning with you.»

What Emma loved about that song was that she could see her and Killian’s story as the lyrics went on. They both were strangers at the beginning, and wouldn’t know how their journey would end, especially not so abruptly, not… forever.

She kept her gaze locked with Graham’s, his eyes twinkling with mischief. But as the music went on, he didn’t appear to be getting ready to sing.

«No one told me I was going to find you, unexpected, what you did to my heart.»

That voice.

That voice didn’t belong to Graham. Emma turned around, her eyes meeting deep blue pools that could only belong to one man, the man that had left her and should be an ocean away, the man that, somehow, was in front of her.

«When I lost hope-»

«You were there to remind me: this is the start.» Emma was singing by inertia or something: she couldn’t believe Killian was really here. There were at least two million questions swirling in her mind she wanted an answer to, but right now, all that mattered, was that Killian had finally come back to her.

Taking a careful, disbelieving step towards him, Emma reached out a trembling hand. With her fingertips, she traced his scruffy cheek, passing with the thumb over his faint scar under his eye. Killian lifted his own hand, tucking a strand of golden hair behind her ear.

«And life is a road that I wanna keep going, love is a river I wanna keep flowing, life is a road, now and forever, wonderful journey.»

Killian smiled softly at her, his knuckles brushing her cheek and drying the tears that had started to fall. It was a miracle her voice wasn’t affected by hiccups, and she wondered for a brief second if crying out of joy was completely different than crying out of pain.

«I'll be there when the world stops turning, I'll be there when the storm is through, in the end I wanna be standing at the beginning with you.»

Emma launched herself into his arms, Will thoughtfully improvising a longer bridge to allow them to allow that reunion to happen.

«I love you,» Killian whispered in her ear, his face buried in her hair, his thundering heart beating beneath the hand she’d placed on his chest.

«I love you.» God, she’d thought she would never say those words ever again, that she wouldn’t be happy anymore, yet here she was, in her true love’s arms.

Neither of them moved to kiss the other. Instead, Emma stepped back a little, catching the right note to continue the song. They had a show to continue, and it would be bad form to cut it off now.

«We were strangers on a crazy adventure,» she sang, reaching out for his hand and squeezing it. Yes, they’d been strangers on the craziest adventure of all.

«Never dreaming how our dreams would come true.» Oh, how she’d missed Killian’s warm voice; not even her dreams could do it justice.

Emma shook her head slightly. Despite the pain, somehow fate had decided to make their dreams come true: they were together, now, and this time Emma would never leave him walk away. «Now here we stand, unafraid of the future, at the beginning with you.»

There was no storm they couldn’t outrun, not if they stayed together and fought for their love. Once before they’d made that mistake and it nearly cost them themselves.

They kept singing, their eyes lost in each other’s, the crowd of fans now forgotten. It might sound like something happening in a cheesy rom-com musical, yet it was real, they were doing exactly that, they were letting what had separated them reunite them.

«I knew there was somebody, somewhere, like me alone in the dark. Now I know my dreams will live on, I've been waiting so long, nothing's gonna tear us apart,» they vowed to each other, promising they would never be teared apart again.

After one last chorus, the song ended, but neither Emma or Killian left the stage, not even stepping away from each other.

«You’re here,» Emma breathed, her eyes wandering all over his face, taking in all the minor changes: his hair was a bit too long, his face hollowed and dark rings circled his eyes. He probably had just arrived from the airport. «How are you here?»

Killian smiled, Emma’s heart dancing in her chest. «I couldn’t stand away from you anymore.» He turned serious, taking her hand in his and dragging her down the stage towards a more secluded corner. When he turned around, his showed his nervousness. «I paid the fine. It wasn’t much, not as much as a movie would require, probably, but-»

«Killian,» she stopped him, dreading where he was going. «What did you do?»

He gulped, closing his eyes for a brief second as he exhaled. «I sold the Jewel.»

The Jewel as in the Jewel of the Realm, the last link to his brother he had. And he gave it up. For her. «Killian-»

«I don’t regret it,» he said, looking her dead in the eyes, blue irises shining with honesty, «I would do it again. Liam always wanted me to follow my heart, to be happy, and if he’d been here he would’ve sold the boat himself. I’m here, Emma, and I’m here to stay. Forever. If you still want me, that is.»

Mouth agape, Emma kept shaking her head as he explained what he did, something nothing in a thousand years she would’ve ever wanted him to do, knowing the Jewel meant so much to him and making her wonder how he could just trade his boat for her. She knew he loved her, she did, but he’d found a way to go back to her, not caring he would have to lose the last physical thing that tied him to the other person he loved the most.

Being the usual Emma, she didn’t reply with words: she gripped the lapels of his leather jacket and brought him closer, their mouth crashing against each other as they desperately kissed as if they were divers gasping for air.

Hands wandered, caressing and pulling one against the other, the time spent apart catching up with them. In that moment, though, the last months were forgotten, only the present mattered, along with the promise of a future together.

Tongues danced and twisted around one another, teeth sunk onto lips and pulled, quenching the hunger they had for each other.

At one point, their straining lungs forced them to come up for air. Emma smiled, suddenly whole once more. «Killian,» she sighed, resting her forehead against his and breathing in his scent, «take me home.»

«As you wish.»

 What’s meant to be,

is meant to be,

I see it at a glance

 Fin.

[sashi-ya]

Hi

For the event can you please do #3, #6, #23 and #24 for Law?

Like a scenario if its not a problem.

THANKS

When is LawxYonko!Reader part3 coming out?

Hi!! Of course darling! I hope you enjoy it! ♥. I will try to update Law x Yonkou!Reader Part 3 on thursday! ♥

NSFW ~ Trafalgar Law x Reader ~ Medical Play

Kinks: 🌶 #3: Face sitting 🌶 #6: Uniform 🌶 #23: Nipple play 🌶 #24: Medical play

TW: Nsfw. Mentions of blood and medical terminology.

WC: 1.7K

A/N: I mention medical terminology, such as the parts of a stethoscope. You can see them from this photo if you have any doubt.

“Dr. Y/n-ya, could you pass me the number 18 scalpel, please?”, “Of course Dr. Trafalgar”.

You are the trainee surgeon of Dr. Trafalgar D. Water Law. He has chosen you from a bunch of residents. He teaches you the best ways to become the best surgeon in cardiology. He is your teacher, your mentor. You respect him, you adore him, you… wish you could fuck him. Every time he asks for a tool during a surgery you have to make an effort to focus on the patient, and not on how appealing he looks wearing that dark blue scrub. That scrub that has a huge neckline, and every time he moves you can see his tattooed collar bones and even down if you are feeling adventurous.

Surgeries for the day are over, and you are all getting ready for leaving the hospital. You’ve been on call for almost 48 hours straight, and the only thing you wish right now -besides be over Law- is to die on your bed. But… that’s not something you can choose when you are a resident on med school…

“Y/n-ya, don’t leave, a huge crash happened on the driveway, we will have to operate on at least two patients. Come to the ER right now”, Dr. Law tells you on your phone. “Fuck me”, you say after hanging the phone and putting it on your white coat pocket… or at least that’s what you think you did.

Running through the hospital halls you arrive at the ER zone where Law is waiting for you already using white gloves that cover his tattooed hands. The ambulances arrive and you both go receive the patient from the paramedics. “Woman. 25 to 30 years approximately. Bleeding wound on the stomach, vital signs unstable. We intubated her in the ambulance. Already passed 250ml of colloidal fluids”, tells you the paramedic. “Thank you, guys”, says Law, while you auscultate the poor patient.

Once you hear the heartbeat from the wounded woman, you take the stethoscope off your ears. Law bends next to you and whispers to your ear “So you want me to fuck you, heh”. You turn your head towards him with your eyes widened asking yourself if he has really said that. Law smiles at you, and points to the pocket of your coat, “Next time, make sure you have hung up your phone properly”. Deep inside you wish you were the lady on the hospital bed…

After a long surgery, your patient is already out of danger, and you are heading to your locker room so you can finally leave the hospital as fast as you can. This time, mostly because you wanted to hide in a hole on the ground, and never come back. You are mortified…

Suddenly someone grabs you by your wrist. “Y/N-ya, you forget paperwork…”. You close your eyes, regretting the day you were born. Law is once again scolding you; you are seeing your professional career go to waste.

“I- I’m sorry Law… I mean, Dr. Trafalgar”, you tell him, looking at the ground. He smirks and tells you “It’s ok! come to my office, we can fill the paperwork together so we can make it faster”. You nod and follow him to his office. For some reason he always takes a quick shower after big surgeries, so you can smell the subtle fragrance he usually wears. You bite your lower lip imagining your nails carving on the skin of that wide back.

Once you are in the office, Law sits on his desk, and you are facing him. The paperwork seems endless, and the exhaustion of your body is beginning to hit you by making you a little dizzy. You let the pen over the wooden desk and take your hands to your eyes. “Are you ok, Y/n-ya?” Law asks you, worried. “I- I’m ok, Dr. It’s just that I’m a little lightheaded”, you tell him.

“Oh, Y/n-ya… come here”, he tells you and passes his arms around your waist, helping you to stand up. You don’t really understand why he is doing so, but a simple touch of this doctor and you are completely surrounded to him.

Law lets you on the medical gurney and takes the stethoscope off his neck and puts it on his ears. Two fingers hold the bell, his other hand moves subtly the neckline of your scrub out of the way. The cold metal of the diaphragm of the medical instrument plays over your skin. Law looks for your heart, so his hand slowly and gently wanders inside the cloth of your surgical gown. The exhaustion and the dizziness seem to be gone from your body, your heart beats faster and violently. Law notices it and gives you a side smirk.

“Are you feeling better?”, he asks you, still with his stethoscope inside your clothes. “Uhum…”, you tell him, wishing he would keep on with that “medical assessment”. “Mmm, I don’t know. Let me make you a quick check up, I don’t want you to drive home in this state”, he tells you, now with a bigger grind. You know he wants you, tomorrow you’ll probably regret it, but hey, how could you say no to Trafalgar Law?...

“Ok, doctor”, you assent and let him continue. “Let me hear your lungs, ok?”, he tells you, and you turn yourself back at him. Law is now brushing the cold metal from his stethoscope on your back. A shiver runs through your spine, as he little by little lifts your scrubs. You can feel his warm breathing next to your flesh, followed by a chaste, but sexy kiss over your right scapula. A low moan escapes your lips. “Turn around, give me your hand”, he says, and grabs you as you turn back at him. His index and middle fingers over the radial artery of your wrists evaluate the pulse. Your blood pumps faster, you don’t really get if he is playing with you or for real checking your health.

“Uhm, you are a bit tachycardic, Y/n-ya. Let me hear your cardiac hums…”, he says and without any warning he lifts up your blue scrubs letting yourself completely exposed in front of him. Your cheeks turn to fire when he discovers you are not wearing any bra under it. But he is pleased, and his eyes show how horny he is.

Law reaches one more time your chest with this stethoscope, and the diaphragm of it travels all around your thorax. He subtly brushes one of your nipples with the back of his hand, and you squeeze your thighs together as your legs hang from the bed. Your core is searching for stimulation, you need to release what you are feeling inside.

Law side smirks and now the cold metal material of his medical instrument is over your already hard and erect nipples. You gasp with the first touch and squeeze your legs one more time. The cold sensation is changed by a more warm and wet one, as Law rejoices himself by licking and sucking your breasts. He sometimes bites your nipples, and even pulls them. You can't help but moan with that heavenly sensation. He looks at you, fixing his grey eyes on yours while tasting your boobs. His hands travel on your back, sometimes squeezing your butt when they reach the lower part of your waist.

Once he is satisfied with your now overstimulated nipples he stops and looks at your messy image. You are burning in desire, you want to kiss him, you want to ride him. So, you spread your legs and grab him by the sides of his immaculate white coat and pull him towards you. Law reaches to your mouth, and you make out so lustfully, erotically, sinfully… you feel how your hot doctor rubs his hard bulge over your core, making you even more wet.

Law helps you to undress and now you are left completely naked from the waist up. He kneels down and pulls your blue pants down. You are now sitting on the cot with only your panties.

His mouth reaches your sex, and he kisses and licks your slit over the already wet cloth of the panties. He sniffs and taste, he is delighted with your sex even if the panties are still covering them.

"I bet it tastes amazing, I want your pussy all over my face, Y/N-ya" he tells you while a playful finger moves the fabric out of the way and reaches for your dripping wet sex.

You gasp, whine and moan, when he takes off your panty completely. He kisses, licks, sucks everything you got, but he is not satisfied yet. Law pulls you from your ass directly onto his face. Your sex is pressing his mouth and pretty nose. You are trying not to asphyxiate him, when you realize he indeed wants that. So you let all your body weight fall over his face, and the equilibrium not to fall from the gurney is now Law's matter.

His tongue tastes your core completely, you hear him struggling to breath in between your arousal juices and the sensitive flesh of your sex. You are about to burst; the pleasure is too damn high. How many nights have you dreamed of riding that pretty handsome tanned face of your sensei?... you grab and pull from his black spiky hair when his mouth is now pressed over your clit. "Fuck, Law", you scream and can hear and feel how he laughs seductively with your core on his face.

You finish with a huge orgasm that makes your thighs press his cheeks. Law stands up and cleans his mouth with his forearm. He pushes onto the bed and pulls down his pants, releasing his hard erect and swollen member. He penetrates you while you are still sitting.

Your legs crossed over his back and violent thrusts fucked the hell out of you while you grabbed the collar of his white coat.

Your thighs dripping from your and his sticky juices, and your body totally collapsed over his chest, is what Law's college found the next morning on Dr. Trafalgar office… ♡