#i put every tag possible in my black list here and on twitter

[ms-demeanor]

making my own post because nobody needs my bullshit on their post:

OP:

Reblog 1:

Reblog 2:

My response:

The IRA blogs were here and they were active and they were quite popular; their posting patterns did not match normal tumblr users (i was followed by lagonegirl and followed back only to be put off by the account reblogging the same five or ten posts every hour for a day before selecting another five or ten posts to reblog hourly the next day - it was clear engagement bait).

Tumblr has never been as transparent about these accounts as both Twitter and Facebook were, but several of the accounts had shared names across platforms and you can find a significant amount of data that was released by both facebook (ex: ads purchased by the IRA accounts) and twitter (over three million tweets from IRA accounts). Academic researchers have published papers on the data released from facebook and twitter. Several papers. So many papers. Soooooo many papers. We have a LOT of direct evidence that you can explore for yourself that there were hundreds (possibly thousands) of IRA accounts that were created on Facebook and Twitter. Of those accounts, some shared usernames across platforms, and of those accounts, a few had tumblr accounts that posted the same content on twitter and tumblr.

To quote a buzzfeed news article from the time:

The Russian-run Tumblr accounts used the same, or very similar, usernames as the account names contained on a list of confirmed IRA accounts Twitter submitted to congressional investigators. In some cases, the Tumblr and Twitter account has the same profile image or linked to each other in their bios. Some IRA Tumblrs and Twitter accounts also cross-promoted content between platforms, further linking them together.

Current tumblr user @ alwaysbewoke (who I don't want to tag because I'm sure he's got better things to do) is interviewed in that article and talks about following one of the blogs identified by tumblr as an IRA blog that had a matching account on twitter identified as an IRA account but unfollowing when the left-leaning blog supposedly run by a black creator started rooting for trump in the election.

Dr. Jonathan Albright is heavily quoted in the article; the data review he collaborated on is one of the only reviews of this subject that includes data from Tumblr and Reddit.

One of the claims that I've seen is that tumblr just deleted funny black people, but these were blogs with thousands of followers on tumblr who never recreated, never popped up on another social media site, never started a reddit account after getting banned; nobody ever showed up saying "hey this is 4mysquad, I got banned on tumblr and twitter, follow me to pillowfort". These very popular blogs got deleted and, as far as I know, nobody ever popped up claiming to be a person who was deleted - and it's not like tumblr users haven't figured out how to evade bans.

What you are doing when you make posts saying that the IRA accounts on tumblr never existed is *absolving tumblr of guilt for their utter lack of transparency.*

Tumblr is not the only tech company that has tried to fly under the radar as its larger counterparts face regular scrutiny in Congress and in the press. Earlier this month, Reddit revealed it too had deleted hundreds of accounts with ties to the Internet Research Agency. A WIRED investigation found more than a thousand links to Russian propaganda websites are still live on Reddit, and unearthed two suspicious accounts that Reddit immediately shut down.

So should you believe what Tumblr says? No, because Tumblr has been functionally fucking silent on this issue and the information about this subject aside from the list of blogs has come from the hard work of data scientists, journalists, and researchers.

(For the record; some of those bot accounts that were recorded by Dr. Albright also had Google+ accounts in 2017 - there is every possibility that they had myspace accounts).

Now, the reason that I'm popping onto this post as an annoyed anarchist is that I was tracking a similar group of blogs for a while and was discussing them and I stopped precisely because of the galaxy-brained liberals who are now trying to dunk on communists for criticizing electoralism. One of the people who was following my project was one of the ones who started calling out the "joe biden kills dogs" posts as disinfo and I realized they were using some of the guidelines I'd written up to "identify" misinformation and that is very a rock fucking stupid approach to what was clearly a leftist making jokes and was horrified and realized there was no way that I could continue documenting what I was documenting without someone attempting to call actual leftists russian bots.

I've seen the post that OP is referencing [it's one where someone makes a very obvious joke about the democrat presidential ticket and people jump on to call them a bot and then someone tries to do the "AI tell me a story" thing and OP is just like "I don't want to :(", proving that they are in fact a person and not an AI] and have deeply enjoyed the humor of watching liberals a) not understand a very, VERY obvious joke and b) become the unwitting butt of a joke they were trying to make, but also I am so exhausted by watching normie dems call leftists AI bots after years of watching normie dems call real live actual leftists who hold actual political views that real people actually have, like prison abolition, russian bots.

But I am also so fucking tired of left conspiracism and how stupid it sounds when leftists dismiss a preponderance of evidence that is easily accessible and publicly available for analysis as "lol so you just trust everything tumblr tells you?"

No, dipshit, learn to click a fucking link or twelve.

[gellavonhamster]

13 books meme

Tagged by @littlestsnicket (thank you ❤)

1) The Last book I read: One Piece Novel Heroines by Jun Esaka, which I've already been posting about enough not to elaborate here

2) A book I recommend: can I copy your homework plagiarize the answer to this from the person who tagged me? Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell by Susanna Clarke. I know a lot of people find it too long or just not their cup of tea, but it's one of my all-time favourites, one of those books that feel like they were written for me specifically, and I cannot help recommending it to others :)

3) A book that I couldn’t put down: I remember reading TFOTA #2 and #3 (The Wicked King and The Queen of Nothing by Holly Black) in a single day. I was feeling unwell, and it was cold outside anyway, so I just spent most of the day reading in bed. I recall being surprised by how engrossed I was - the first book of this series didn't grow on me until well into its second half.

4) A book I’ve read twice (or more): I have this sideblog on Twitter where I post a quote from Dracula per day (yes, manually, I don't know how to make bots lol). I just move down the text and skim it and pick sentences that catch my eye, and when I reach the end, I start from the beginning again. So, in a way, I am constantly in the process of rereading Dracula

5) A book on my TBR: Chrétien de Troyes' Perceval and a bunch of its continuations, Lolly Willowes by Sylvia Townsend Warner

6) A book I’ve put down: the thing is, if I don't really enjoy a book but still can find a good thing or two about it, I will keep reading and hoping it will improve eventually, and if I don't enjoy a book at all, I forget about it as soon as I put it down. Out of sight, out of mind - unless I particularly hate it. When I try to think of any books of the latter kind, the first to come to my mind usually is A Discovery of Witches. I found the worldbuilding really interesting, but damn, the protagonists were so annoying that I wasn't going to struggle through that brick of a book for it.

7) A book on my wish list: I need to get a copy of The Bad Beginning, The Wide Window, and The Hostile Hospital, and then I'll have the entire ASOUE collected! Would also love to get any other Snicketverse books; I only have Poison for Breakfast - bought it literally last weekend. I could buy them online, of course, but: 1) I prefer to avoid online shopping if there is realistic possibility for me to come across that item offline; 2) accidentally stumbling onto these books in bookshops (especially second-hand ones) when I least expect them feels like such a right experience for this series that I am inclined to continue acquiring them that way.

8) A favorite book from childhood: Winnie-the-Pooh and The House at Pooh Corner... truly formative shit, responsible for at least 50% of my sense of humour

9) A book you would give to a friend: I was at my friend's place recently and noticed she had the exact same copy of Something Wicked This Way Comes by Ray Bradbury as I do. When I told her about it, she told me it was I who gave her that book (I forgot 🤦‍♀️) and that she loves it and rereads it almost every autumn :') So this one has definitely passed the test.

10) A book of poetry or lyrics that you own: I have a whole shelf full of poetry books, in fact. At least half of them weren't bought by me, but by my family members long before I was born, but presently all of them are considered mine :D Those that I bought myself include collections of poems by Christina Rossetti, Emily Dickinson, Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Oscar Wilde, and Marina Tsvetaeva, among other things. And Useless Magic by Florence Welch!

11) A nonfiction book you own: I stumbled upon The Republic of Pirates by Colin Woodard in the same second-hand bookshop where I bought all the parts of ASOUE I currently have and couldn't believe my luck - I really wanted to read it after watching Black Sails! It's great.

12) What are you currently reading: Tristan and Isolde. Restoring Palamede by John Erskine. Really enjoying it so far; it sort of demystifies/disenchants Arthuriana but without excessive cynicism, with the narrator being understanding, perhaps even compassionate, when describing the characters' very realistic, human flaws. Technically I'm also reading E. W. Hornung's short stories about Raffles and Bunny through the Letters from Bunny Substack, but it's more like "desperately trying to catch up and failing". The stories themselves are delightful, but I was right to suspect that this way of reading books is not for me.

13) What are you planning on reading next? Dracula in Istanbul (the Turkish translation/adaptation of Dracula), courtesy of @seawilde <3

tagging @afoxnamedmulder, @seawilde, @lefresne, @uupiic, and @snckt; as always, feel free to ignore if you don't want to answer :)

[cresslog]

INTRODUCTION POST, PLEASE READ.

hey there! name's archie (or at least that's how i like being called on social media platforms). pronouns are she/them, but you can call me whatever if you want to, I don't mind. if you want to take a peek at my twitter account, here's a link: twitter

i am an artist and mostly focus on fan art. sometimes i post, sometimes i disappear for two months and am wanted in 50 states before i reappear again. don't expect consistency, i am a student and, unfortunately, don't have a lot of free time and motivation to draw. now let's lay down some rules.

DO NOT:

- inquire if i will make nsfw. I won't. the maximum you'll get is sweet sweet fluff and kisses. if i do post something with elements of horror/gore/blood or smth with suggestive themes i will put some trigger warnings in the description and ensure to censor the post depending on the level of possible triggering/explicit themes just in case.

- message me with an intention to send something inappropriate (even if you do message me with holy intentions there's no guarantee i will answer, sorry).

- steal.

- ask if i do commissions. if i will ever decide to do commissions i will post information about it. if you can't find it? well, i am not doing commissions then.

the list may become bigger, but all of this is basically all the stuff i already encountered by being public on social media and posting artwork. please be sensible.

WHAT I DO:

- digital art on fandoms i fancy (mostly tf2 but that, also, can change). colour is my life-long nemesis, so most of my works will be in boring black and white. my every work will be put under a tag "#my art" so you can easily find it there.

- edits! you can find my tiktok account by clicking this link: my tikitok

- shitposts! headcanons, stupid ideas, everything goes

- i do have experience with writing, so you might possibly see some of that too.

- grammar mistakes and typos. sometimes. my favourite task. i am not a native english speaker, so if you see any mistakes PLEASE speak up and point it out. thanks!

My job is to post what i manage to create AND make you feel as comfortable as i can in this blog, no matter who you are. have fun!

[jeannes-world]

Can we agree that was the most beautiful moment with the 3 of them during the movie ?

[bexterbex]

A Soul to Mend His Own | Ch. 2

A Kylo Ren x Modern! Reader in a soulmate au with some canon divergence. —————————————SLOWBURN————————————–

He is already the Supreme leader, searching the universe to find you, his Empress. Your name on his wrist has been the only constant in his life, while you have doubts about his existence and his acceptance of you. He isn’t in the database and why did the name Kylo Ren cover Ben Solo?

Originally posted on my Ao3 Crystallclover. If you missed Chapter 1, Click Here

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Chapter 2: An Arrival to be Remembered

UFO has been sited entering the Earth’s atmosphere

Unknown armed and masked being exit ship heading towards the White House, is the President in danger?

Aliens spotted in D.C.

You woke up to the sound of your alarm, and got out of bed. You have been in the habit lately to start your day without checking your phone first. Mostly to avoid early morning emails from your boss before you have even had coffee.

You head to the bathroom relieve yourself, wash your face, and brush your hair. Exiting the bathroom you head to the kitchen and make yourself some breakfast and coffee. You enjoy the sunrise through the large windows in your apartment. Finishing eating you immediately wash your few dishes and get ready for work. You pick out your work ‘uniform’ of a black blouse and black trousers. You head to the bathroom to brush your teeth, put on a little makeup and get changed.

Heading back to the kitchen you prepare a to-go cup of coffee and pull out your lunch for work. Finally, you check your phone.

First, you see an email from your boss reminding you for the 10th time about the morning meeting that you have every Thursday. It isn’t like you to forget something you do every single week for the past year. Never once have you been late, in fact, he was always the one to forget. You wonder if these emails were meant more for him and less for you. But he was always the micromanager.

Next, you check your texts. Your usual morning photo from one of your siblings about one of your nieces/nephews. Another one from Hayden asking if you were still on for tomorrow night’s weekly bar trip. You answered ‘Yes 😀 .’ Another from Carter asking what you think of the news headlines this morning. Odd, although this isn’t the first time you two had discussed something like this it was odd to receive a text like this from them first thing in the morning.

You open Twitter to see #alieninvasiondc trending. You scroll through the news tag. Every major news site around the world is talking about the shuttlecraft that landed on the White House lawn last night, and the armed and armored soldiers that departed from the craft. All of the soldiers wore white armor, except one in silver. There was one who was in all black and a red-haired human-looking man among the group. Not much is known other than they haven’t been seen leaving the White House.

You text Carter back ‘Just looked now, either this is a hoax or the world as we know it is coming to an end. I’ll see you at work.’

You packed your work bag, grabbed your car keys and set off to work. You park in the ramp attached to your building and walk to the elevator. You wave at the security attendant to the opposing skywalk like you do every morning. You arrive at your floor and buzz-in. You say hi to Nancy in reception and head to your desk.

Strangely all of the televisions in the office were muted and tuned into CBC News, normally the one in the break room and the ones in reception were on, the others only really got used during Hockey Games or events like the Olympics. Your boss was in the walkway with his attention turned to his phone.

You set down your things at your desk and boot up your work computer while setting up your laptop on its stand. You did your usual check through work emails until the 9:00 AM weekly meeting. Your boss hasn’t moved from his position in the walkway.

8:55 AM hits and you grab what you need and head to the conference room. The tv was on in here as well. The others in the Marketing department filled in after you. Your boss, Scott, had yet to move from his place in the walkway. 9:00 AM hits and you continue small talk with your co-workers, most of the conversation is directed at the events in D.C.

9:05 AM your co-worker Ally sends a Slack message to your boss. He looks up from his phone to the clock on the wall and runs into his office. After a few minutes, he rushes out and into the conference room.

“Sorry, I am late everyone the Wife is just paranoid over this Alien Invasion thing. I can’t get her to stop texting me,” he chuckles.

Ironically this isn’t the first time he has been ‘late’ to a meeting after being on the phone with his wife an hour after work already started.

Suddenly you all get an Emergency Alert System notification on all of your phones.

‘International Emergency: Please tune in to your local news broadcasting station to receive an Emergency Report.’

Scott asks, “where is the damn remote?”

Ally hands it to him, he unmutes the tv.

The headline reads: ‘President of the United States has an Important International Government Update’

Live from Washington D.C.

On the screen, it shows the President of the United States, with the silver soldier, one in all black and the red-haired man from the video of the invasion last night.

“I have an important announcement. Earth has been contacted by people from space who call themselves the First Order. The First Order has informed me that they would like to peacefully work with Earth. As long as we fully cooperate as an entire planet no harm will come to any of us. Currently, our galaxy is at war, and the First Order seeks our help, in return of offering Earth protection from a group of people called the New Republic.

They have explained to me and the U.N. as a whole that the New Republic is not to be trusted along with their mercenary army called the Resistance. It is through my decision and the decision of the U.N. that we will cooperate and join forces with the First Order to be under their protection.

All citizens of Earth in the next 7 days must register with the First Order. You will be given a citizen number, some citizens may be reassigned to work directly with the First Order. All military personal will be reassigned to be under the First Order. You should not worry as most citizens will be unaffected, life will go on as normal. As long as citizens follow these orders and any orders to come, we shall be safe,” said the President. The President moved out of the way for the man in all black and with a black mask to move to the podium.

“I am the Supreme Leader of the First Order. I promise no harm will come to those who cooperate with us. We seek to peacefully transition your planet, as you know it Earth, to a primary First Order Planet. We value honesty and loyalty, along with hard work. We strive to rebuild the Empire and to maintain order in the galaxy. That is all,” The man's voice was distorted through the mask he was wear, it sounded mechanical or digital but it had a deep sound.

The broadcast cut back to the news anchor. “Currently all citizens of earth are to report to their a local city government building or town hall within the next 7 days for First Order registration and possible reassignment. All citizens must remain calm and do as the government has directed. Any questions or concerns will be answered by local government officials and First Order personnel. All foreign citizens to Canada will follow the same protocol as citizens. All citizens are asked to bring various forms of identification, such as a Passport, driver's license, birth certificate, social insurance number card, any immunization forms, military I.D. and more. You can find a full list of required documents at the CBC website or at canada.ca. As a reminder, all citizens are urged to stay calm and to follow all orders regarding and following First Order registration. Citizens are also advised to stay tuned to local news sources for any updates.”

The conference room sat stunned at the announcement.

“Well were f*****,” said Scott. “We are all surely f*****. Who are these people to think they can just take over like that? Do they think we are just going to sit by and let them brainwash us? Let them take everything from us?”

“I don’t think we have a choice, you heard the U.S. President, the U.N. is in agreement. This is for our own safety. If you are going to go against them and get yourself killed keep us out of it,” said Daniel one of your marketing co-workers.

“I’ll talk to Henry, and see if we can all take the week off, who knows this may be the last time we even get to see our families,” and with that statement, Scott left the conference room.

You sat there not really moving, processing what you just witnessed on the tv and the confrontation between Scott and Daniel. So did the rest of your co-workers. You could tell they were all in shock, the world as you knew it was about to change, the future had shifted.

All of your phones went off again. This time it was an email from Jonathan the CEO.

‘All employees will take today, tomorrow and next week off, in order to give proper attention to the government mandate. Please be safe and I hope to see you all come -Henry G. Wells’

Everyone in the conference room got up and went to their desks. The office was silent, except for the sounds of items being put away and people gathering their things. You were almost done getting ready to go when Carter appeared next to you.

They didn’t speak, for fear of being the first one to break the ominous silence. Carter just looked at you expectantly. You finished packing up and walked with them out of the office. The elevator was packed but silent. Everyone got off and walked to their cars. Carter followed you to yours.

Keeping their voice down, almost to a whisper, they asked, “I know I texted you this morning about all this but what do you think now? Do you want to go back to your place or mine?”

You thought about it for a moment before responding, “let’s go back to mine. We can discuss it from there.”

Carter accepted your response and went to their car to leave. You followed suit. Today was not what you expected.

Tags: @sheadre 

[wayward-mikaelson]

His Little Sister--Part Two

Word Count: 2192

Requested By: @myinconnelly1​ She hyped it up for me and I am glad she did! The part where the Fan ask a questions was all her idea and I love it!

Pairing: Jared x Reader

Characters: Reader, Jared, Jensen, Richard Speight Jr, Misha, Alex, Rob Benedict, Fans, Cliff (Mentioned), Danneel Ackles (Mentioned). Ackles Twins (Mentioned).

About: Months have gone by and the Reader and Sam have successfully (and playfully) hidden their relationship from Jensen. But during a convention, the Reader and Sam don’t know that their soft conversation was heard by a fan who asks Jensen his thoughts about it in front of everyone.

Disclaimer: Language, Quickie (Unprotected--Don’t be silly wrap that willy), Angst, Fluff, Possible Pregnant Reader, 

Disclaimer 2: Any of the shorts that are hot and steamy, I want to put out there that it's in no way disrespectful towards Gen at all. I love her to death and respect that marriage between her and Jared. So when reading those shorts, know that it all takes place in an alternate world where they aren't married at all.

Forever Tag List: @donnaintx​ @myinconnelly1​ @hobby27​ @magssteenkamp​ @elansaidaris​ @440mxs-wife​ 

*18+ CONTENT. ANYONE YOUNGER THAN 18 WILL NEED TO MOVE ALONG. I DO NOT WANT TO RISK MY ACCOUNT BEING THANOSED.

**PLEASE DO NOT COPY AND PASTE MY WORK ANYWHERE WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND OR GIVING ME THE PROPER CREDIT. I WORK TOO HARD ON MY WORK TO HAVE IT STOLEN. YOU MAY COPY THE LINK TO THIS WORK AND SHARE IT. YOU MAY ADD THIS LINK TO A MASTERLIST.

***THIS WORK IS ALSO POSTED ON IG, WATTPAD, AND AO3. PLEASE GO SHOW IT LOVE OVER THERE.

****PLEASE GO FOLLOW ME ON MY OTHER ACCOUNTS IG, WATTPAD, AO3, AND TWITTER.

*****DMS ARE OPEN FOR REQUESTS

Read PART ONE

Want to read my favorite fanfics click HERE

I hold tight to the extra as he takes the fake blade out of themselves and stabs me with it. I pop the 'blood' capsule in my mouth and let it trickle out the corner of my mouth. I chuckle and take a step towards the fake cliff edge.

"Opheila, No!" Jared yells his line from a distance. I turn to him and give a smile smile before turning back to the extra.

"This is for Claire," I say my line in a wicked tone as the extra and I fall five feet into the giant air bag waiting for us below.

"Cut!" Rich yells from his chair. "Now that's what I call a wrap up!"

The extra and I roll off the bag. Jensen is waiting for me on the ground. "That was awesome," he says steadying me. I eye Jared off in the distance. He looks me up and down and winks at me before walking off. We have plans to meet up later.

Jared and I had been sleeping together for some months now. We had plans on telling my brother but, we kind of like the sneaking around. And since we were seeing each other secretly and having amazing hot sex, it made our characters chemistry on set better. Jensen and everyone just thought that it was amazing acting. So what everyone saw as Sam touching and or kissing Opheila, was actually Jared touching and or kissing me.

"So," Jensen and I walk back to the make up area so I can get this thick make up off my face. I feel like a part time clown and part time stripper. "What do you say we go out and celebrate tonight. It'll be me, you, Jared, maybe that chick Jared had talked to months ago, and that extra that keeps checking you out."

I choke on my water. "Jared says that chick," I say chick as smooth as I can. "wasn't what he's looking for. It wasn't going anywhere. Plus what extra?"

Jensen pulls me close to him and points to a dude all dressed up in black. "The demon that you killed before your fall with Claire's killer. He's been looking at you all freaking week and I've talked with him a few times. You might actually like him. Maybe get you back into the dating game."

I choke again. "We will see about that."

After I'm make up I free. I avoid my brother at all costs. I even avoid the journalist that have been hounding me for months. Ever since word had gotten out about my return to acting. every magazine and online news outlets wanted some part of me. And it wasn't because I was on Riverdale before it was because I am YN Ackles the little sister to Jensen.

I do a million double takes as I walk towards Jareds trailer. No one and I mean no one knew about us. We hid it that well. I get to his door when a voice stops me.

"Hey," it's Misha. "Tell that knuckle head it's on." He tosses an empty bottle of fart spray towards me. I barely catch it and realize it still has a smell.

"Oh God, "I make a face and throw it back Misha. "You're fucking gross, Misha." Misha dodges it and laughs as he walks away. The guys and their games and pranks. One of these days one of their pranks are going to back fire on them. Now that will be worth watching.

I walk into the trailer and once the door closes, Jared hands are pulling me away from the visible windows and pushing me up on the wall where no one can see us. "Took you long enough," His voice purrs into my ear as he unbuttons my shirt. I close my eyes and exhale. This is the best way to relax after a day like this.

"Sorry," I fumble with my belt and pants. "I was too busy loosing my brother on set." I finally get my belt off and pants undone. I push Jared back towards his bed, he's already working on his pants. I kick my pants off and throw my already unbuttoned shirt to the side. I walk up to Jared, whose now just in his boxers. His hard erection extremely visible. The throbbing and wetness in my core is screaming for it to be inside of me.

I push Jared onto his bed and straddle his lap. His cock poking me hard through our thin underwear. Jared reaches down between us and shoves not only his underwear off but mine as well. I lift myself up and slowly lower myself over his long, thick and throbbing cock. Jared groans and falls back onto the bed as I begin to move my hips up and down. He feels so good inside of me.

After a minute, Jared sits up and flips us over. He grabs my hands and pins them above my head and thrust deeper and faster inside of me. I bite my lip to keep myself from making a sound. A few small whimpers escape me. I kick my leg up and throw them around Jared waist to make sure he stays deep inside. Jared thrusts go from lightning fast to average and sloppy. He's close and I start to feel myself tighten hard around him.

I look into his eyes, "Don't pull out," I manage to get out in between thrusts and whimpers. With that, I feel Jared slam himself into me releasing everything he's got inside of me. I feel myself let go and arch myself into his chest. Jared slowly thrusts through both our orgasms.

"Wasn't my plan for it to be that short," Jared rolls over and pulls me to his chest. "Still amazing though." He kisses my head. "I love you YN."

"I love you, too, Jared," I take a deep breath until theres a knock on the trailer door.

***

A month as gone by and we are all back home. Jared and I are still seeing each other secretly. Jensen is doing interviews and such about this latest season of Supernatural. I have been contacted multiple time about bringing back my character on Riverdale. Today I gave the middle finger to them. They did me dirty by cutting me off from the show without telling me or let alone talking to me about it. I have a lot on my plate.

Dallas Con.

I walk out of the bathroom of my hotel room and see Jared sitting on the couch. His wringing his hands as he looks up at me. I hand him the stick in my hand. "This one says negative, but the one from last night for sure said positive."  My period was a week late. It's never late. It's always been on time. Until now. Six tests later four say I could be pregnant but the other two say I may not be.  

"We just keep testing," Jared sits it next to the other test I took from last night. "Until we know for sure."

"Babe," I sit next to him and take his hand. "Danneel needed a blood test with the twins after getting wonky test results like this. I'll call an OBGYN tomorrow and get in as soon as I can." I lean in and kiss him.  

"Okay," Jared smiles. "I trust you." He stands up and I stand up with him. "Should we head on down?"

Walking down the hotel hallway, Jared stops us and looks at me. "You know, I can actually see this whole thing being possible."

"That I can convince you to rip a condom off and have you cum inside me," I say. My mind is in the same place. "And to not pull out when a condom isn't in play." Those nights and days where Jared cums in me were always the best.

"Quite a few times, actually," Jared licks his lips which he knows is a dead ass turn on for me. "If we are pregnant, we will need to tell Jensen." Jared leans down to kiss me. "You'll be an amazing mom."  

The convention is a blast. We laugh and joke about our time on set. We even answer questions about Sam and Opheila. I don't think I have ever laughed that hard before. Everything was settling down and it was my cue to go off stage. As I am walking off I hear the next question. 

"This one is for Jensen," a fan says.

"Ha! Mine," Jensen playfully pushes Jared.

"How do you feel about YN being pregnant, becoming an uncle, and Jared being officially apart of the family?"

I spin around wondering if I heard that right. Jared chokes on his water. My brother's eyes widen. Rich and Rob both have their mouths hanging open. I feel the color drain from my face. I look back to see Misha and Alex staring too. The whole ball room is quite. I look back and lock eyes with Jared. How the hell did this fan know?

"What's that?" Jensen asks looking my way.

"How do you feel about your sister and Jared becoming parents?" the Fan asked again. This time there was something in her voice that knew that no one knew.

"Um," Jensen looks back at Jared. The look on his face was unreadable. "I'm still processing that. How do you feel, bro?" Jensen says bro with enough emphasis that makes me make my way to the water.

The rest of the panel is awkward. All questions were about Jared and I. Jensen's entire face is still unreadable that made me nervous. He has only been like this a few times before and it usually ends with him being pissed off.

When the panel is over Jensen walks up to me and takes my arm and pulls me out of the ballroom. Jared is following behind. Jensen takes us to a whole other part of the hotel. Before we know it we are in an empty room. Jensen lets go of my arm and spins around and rubs his face. Jared steps closer to me but I stop him. I don't know what my brother was thinking.

"You guys are sleeping together?" He exclaims making a face. "My little sister and best friend are having sex and a baby. How long has this been going on?"

Jared and I exchange looks. "November," I look back at Jensen who has risen is eyebrows higher than they normally go.

"Six months?!" He claims. "And you guys didn't tell me?! This hurts guys. What hurts more is I have to learn that you guys are having a baby. From a fan!"

Jensen rubs his face again. Jared pulls out his phone and looks at the both of us. "Uh, Cliff is looking for me. Wants me for mine and Misha's photo op."

"Go," Jensen and I say.

I sit on the ground and Jensen sits as well. "We aren't sure if I am pregnant or not. The tests are wonky. Kind of like Dee's were with the twins. And we meant to tell you but we got caught up in the fun of sneaking around." Jensen takes a deep breath and just stares at me. "I'm sorry Jay," I reach for his hand. "If it makes you happy or feel any better, no one else knew either."

"I can see it now," Jensen looks down at the ground and starts to pull at a piece of rug. "It was right in front of me the whole time but I was blind to it." He looks up at me. "So, will you be getting a blood test?"

I nod. "The only way to know for sure. And if I really am," I pat Jensen's hand. "You'll be a kick ass uncle."

"Damn right I will be."

By the end of the next week, Jared and I go public about our relationship and the news that by the new year the two of us will be introducing our first child into the world. A couple months later, Jared and I tie the knot in a very intimate ceremony that included just both our families and closest friends. Three days before Christmas, Jared and I welcome a little girl into the world. She is the most beautiful thing on the planet and watching my brother fall in love with her melts my heart.

By the time New Years Hit, Jared is home on break from filming. We rent out a small apartment on the outskirts of Austin. I had a few more weeks before I was cleared to go back. Jared leads me to our apartment balcony the view is absolutely breath taking. Even at night. Jared pulls me close to him and kisses me gently as fireworks were set off in the distance. "Happy New Years, Mrs. Padalecki."

[wistfulcynic]

all the perfect things (that i doubt)

SUMMARY: Zelena is defeated and Emma returns to her quiet life in New York with Henry, leaving Killian brokenhearted and her feelings for him unresolved. Three years later they meet again and quite a lot has changed—but will these changes push them further apart or help them find their way back to each other?

Canon divergence with no time-travel adventure.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @ohmightydevviepuu! You are brilliant and amazing and a fantastic writer and a kind friend, and so to honour the anniversary of your birth I have attempted to fill this VERY LONG one-shot with all the things you like best. There’s angst and second-chance romance and people needing to sort their shit out before finding their way back to each other and angst and emotions and erotica and did I mention angst? There’s also Tinkerhook and Captain Cobra (implied, but very much there) and oh yeah it’s a 3B divergence. AND the title comes from a song! I’ll Be Good by Jaymes Young, which is just about the most Killian thing to ever Jones. I hope that it leaves your boxes thoroughly ticked. 

Much gratefulness to @thisonesatellite​ and @katie-dub​ for invaluable suggestions and encouragement ❤️❤️❤️

Rated: M Words: 20k Tags: canon divergence, angst, smut, angst with a happy ending, minor mentions of suicidal thoughts

On AO3 

-

all the perfect things (that i doubt)

Emma parked her bug in front of the red brick row house and got out, hiking her tight skirt inelegantly as she did and teetering a bit on her towering heels as she climbed the steps to the small porch. She went inside and shut the door behind her, then leaned back against it with a small sigh. It was weird being back in Boston after three years in New York—four, really, if you counted the year she and Henry had spent there without their memories—and she hadn’t quite adjusted yet. New York was pretty much home now, or at least that’s what she regularly told herself, and Boston was… well…

Boston didn’t feel like home but it did feel familiar, the uncomfortable familiarity of something—or someone—that knew her far better than she wanted them to. Emma didn’t like places that knew her too well any more than she liked people who did. It was one of the reasons she’d chosen to sublet a place in Brookline—that and the generous relocation allowance her bail-bonds firm was paying—and even though she had to drive into the city every day to help set up the firm’s new Boston branch, coming home every night to a place that wasn’t technically Boston offered at least a small respite. 

She hung her keys on a hook by the door and kicked off her heels, flexing her toes in relief. It was only a six month placement, she reminded herself. Six months to get the new office up and running, then she could go back to New York and be comfortably anonymous again. 

“Mom, is that you?” Henry’s voice called and Emma grinned, following the sound into the living room. 

“Were you expecting someone else?” she teased, collapsing onto the sofa next to her son and putting her feet up on the coffee table. “How was the first day at the new school?” 

Henry closed the book he’d been reading and turned to her, his face lit up with excitement. “Fine, fine, the school’s good and kids seem cool, but Mom! You’ll never guess.” He bounced in his seat, almost vibrating with eagerness. Even at fifteen Henry hadn’t lost the enthusiastic nature she’d found so hard to resist in the ten-year-old who’d first come to find her in this city. Despite his occasional bouts of teenage sullenness. 

“Guess what?” she asked, smiling at him. 

“Guess who my astronomy teacher is.” 

“You’re taking astronomy?” 

“I need a science and it’s better than chemistry.” 

“Well, that’s true.” 

“It’s also not important,” said Henry, impatiently refocusing the conversation back to his question. “Guess who my teacher is! You never will!” 

“Um, Carl Sagan?”

“Mom, he’s dead!” 

“Oh.” Dammit, thought Emma. She’d been pleased with herself for managing to come up with the name. “Um, who’s the other guy? Neil something Tyson?” 

“Neil deGrasse Tyson, and no, come on, you’re not even trying.” 

Emma sighed. “Henry, I genuinely have no idea. Why don’t you just tell me?” 

“It’s Hook!” 

“Hoo—what?” Emma stared at him as her heart stumbled then began to pound. He couldn’t possibly mean Hook Hook, could he?

“Captain Hook!” Henry confirmed, and Emma’s heart took off at a gallop. “He calls himself Killian Jones of course and he doesn’t wear the hook anymore but it’s still definitely him! I couldn’t believe it!” 

“But I thought…” She took a deep breath to calm herself. “Isn’t he living in Storybrooke?” 

“That’s what I said! I mean, I’ve never seen him there but I just kind of assumed. But he said no, he’s lived in Boston almost three years!” 

“You—you talked to him?” Breathe, Emma.

“Well, yeah.” Henry shrugged. “It would have been rude not to. He didn’t exactly seem thrilled to see me, but he was nice. He said not to expect any special treatment in class though if I remembered what he taught me about using the sextant that one time it would be helpful. I mostly remember, so…” 

Henry chattered on and Emma tried her best to listen but her mind couldn’t focus. She felt breathless and chaotic, buzzing with confusion and with a strange eager excitement. Hook is here, was all she could think. Here. Here in Boston. Where she was. Here. Close by. Possibly very close. Her heart felt like it was trying to escape her chest, and she pressed the heel of her hand against it.

He was Henry’s teacher. Hook was a teacher. She tried to imagine that and found to her surprise that it wasn’t actually all that difficult. Obviously he wouldn’t wear his pirate coat in the classroom like in the image her frazzled brain insisted on conjuring, but he’d always been so good with Henry, she could easily imagine him teaching other kids.  

And he’s here, her brain kept reminding her. Here. Where you are. You can see him. You can see him. You can see him…

“…and he’s actually a really good teacher, he explains things so well.” Henry was still talking. “He says he teaches math too, I’m actually thinking I might try doing pre-calc with him, you know I wasn’t going to take that until we got back to New York, but I think he might be able to help me, and…”

“That’s great, kid.” Emma felt bad interrupting him when he was so excited but she couldn’t handle any more talking about Hook or thinking about Hook teaching Henry or about him talking to Henry or really just any thinking about Hook at all. “What do you want for dinner?” 

Henry’s eyes lit with a different sort of enthusiasm and Emma hid a grin. How to distract a teenage boy 101: Offer him food, she thought.

“Pizza from Dino’s,” said Henry decisively. “But since that’s not possible, how about something Boston-y that we can’t get in New York?” 

“Like what?” 

“How should I know, I’ve only been here once. You’re the one who used to live here.” 

“Um, baked beans? Clam chowder? Lobster roll?” 

“Pah,” he scoffed. “I can get lobster rolls in Maine.” 

“Well, how about clam chowder then?”

Henry looked dubious. “Okay,” he said. “I’m willing to try new stuff while we’re here. But if it’s gross, it goes on the list forever. Deal?” 

Emma laughed. “Deal.” 

…

Later that night when Emma finally gave up after hours of tossing and turning in her bed, kicked off the covers and went to her laptop, she knew what she was going to do. She didn’t exactly like it, but she knew it, and as she opened the website for Henry’s school she didn’t hesitate. She clicked on ‘Staff Directory’ and scrolled through the list of teachers’ names and then she caught her breath. 

It wasn’t that she hadn’t believed Henry, just that in the first flush of shock at hearing his name again she hadn’t really been able to process the reality of Hook being here, in Boston, in a normal place with a normal job and presumably a normal life. Not until she actually saw his name, right there on the screen, with her own eyes. 

Killian Jones. Mathematics and Astronomy. Latin Club. Debate Team.

With slightly trembling fingers she clicked on it, releasing the breath she’d been holding and gasping in another immediately after as her heart stumbled once more and began to pound against her ribs. The picture was in black and white and tiny, just a thumbnail, but it was unmistakably him. Still with the scruff though his hair looked neater, no eyeliner of course but he’d kept the earring—a small stud barely visible in the tiny photo. And somehow, somehow he still had that look in his eye… the one that promised excitement and adventure and fun… Emma squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head to clear it. When she opened them again the look was still there. His students must love him, she thought. What kid wouldn’t want a pirate as their teacher?

She closed the school’s website and opened the professional one she used to dig up information on her skips. Using it to investigate anyone else was unethical enough that she could be fired for doing it but she was prepared to take the risk. He was teaching her son, she told herself. She had information about him that the school district did not. She had to make sure he wasn’t still doing… pirate-y stuff. Yeah, that was it. That was the reason.  

Ten minutes later she had his home address and cell number, his personal email and links to his social media accounts. Or rather, his account. Singular. He didn’t have Facebook or Twitter, which wasn’t particularly surprising she supposed, but he did have Instagram. She clicked on the link and a small smile curved her lips as her screen filled with images of the Massachusetts coastline.

He liked to take pictures of the sea. This was also unsurprising. But although various boats and ships featured prominently in many of his photos none of them were the Jolly Roger, and that did surprise her. What had he done with his ship, she wondered. Probably left it in Storybrooke; it wasn’t like he could sail a pirate ship around Boston harbour. Though he had sailed it to New York… She frowned. Hook loved that ship, it had been his home for literal centuries. Emma couldn’t imagine him just leaving the Jolly and moving someplace else. 

It was just… weird, the whole freaking thing. Hook’s presence here, his job, the quiet life he seemed to be living, his absent ship. It was a mystery, and mysteries had never sat well with Emma. Before she could talk herself out of it she copied his home address and pasted it into Google Maps, and when the results appeared on the screen she gave a wry snort. He lived a few blocks away from her sublet. Because of course he did. 

Good, she thought. It was good that he lived so close. That way, when she went to his house to confront him tomorrow she’d be able to walk there and pick up some dinner on the way home. 

…

Hook, as it turned out, lived in a very nice house on a very nice street in a very nice neighbourhood. A very nice neighbourhood, Emma thought, looking around as she strolled down the sidewalk trying to look casual and not as out of place as she definitely felt. Quiet and well-kept, with tall trees and flowers and carefully tended lawns. Not at all the kind of place you’d expect would appeal to a fairy tale pirate. 

His house was made of red brick in a sharp and tidy style, with white-framed windows and black shutters and a white portico with actual freaking columns at the top of the red brick steps. It was completely bizarre to think of him living there but also made an odd kind of sense. The house’s unfussy symmetry and clean colours gave it a nautical sort of air, and aside from a few shrubs on either side of the porch the lawn was neatly kept but bare. He’d always kept things neat, she remembered. 

 Emma’s heart was galloping again, her hand trembling as she rang the bell. She could hear it echo through the house and panic gripped her chest, and she wondered wildly if it was too late to turn around and run away. Then the door swung open and her mind went blank. 

His eyes were exactly as she remembered them, as blue as the ocean he so loved and just as deep, their expression shuttered now but still compelling. Still beautiful. They stared at each other for a breathless moment as she scrambled to think of something, anything to say to him, then he stepped back and held the door open. 

“Come in, Swan,” he said, and her heart beat even faster at the sound of her name in his voice, “I’ve been expecting you.” 

“You—you have?” 

“Aye.” He smiled wryly. “Ever since Henry appeared in my class yesterday. I knew your curiosity wouldn’t allow you to stay away for long.” 

He ushered her into a living room that was as tidy as his cabin on the Jolly Roger had been, with broad-planked hardwood floors and one wall lined with bookshelves. A large, comfortable-looking sofa sat at the centre of the room and Killian gestured to it. “Have a seat. Can I get you anything to drink? Coffee, tea, beer?” 

“Beer.” Emma latched on to the idea of alcohol like a lifeline. “I think I could use one.” 

“Aye,” he replied. “As could I.” 

He disappeared through a door in the corner of the room as Emma sank weakly onto the sofa and tried to calm her frantic heartbeat. A minute or two later Hook returned with two brown bottles, handed one to her then sat on the opposite side of the sofa and took a long drink from the other. Emma drank as well, surreptitiously studying him from the corner of her eye as she did. 

He was wearing jeans. Well-worn, soft looking ones. And a t-shirt in a similar condition with ‘Boston College’ across the front in faded letters. 

“Boston College,” she blurted, desperate to fill the stretching silence. 

“Pardon?” 

“Your shirt. Boston College.” 

“Oh, aye.” He looked down and shrugged. “Where I studied.” 

“But—you didn’t,” said Emma, feeling thoroughly off-kilter. “You couldn’t have. Did you?” 

“Obviously I didn’t,” he replied. “But I have both memories and official documentation that says otherwise. Courtesy of Tink.” 

“Tink?” Emma frowned, both at his words and the nasty tendril of jealousy that curled in her gut. 

“Indeed. She gave me what I needed to start a new life in this realm. Much as Regina once did for you.” 

“But—Regina did that for me as part of a curse. How did Tink… for you..?” 

He shrugged again. “Damned if I know. I try not to ask too many questions where magic is concerned. We… rekindled our old companionship after you left. She knew I wanted to leave Storybrooke and once her magic was fully restored she offered to help me do that. The results are as you see. She gave me what she said was the same realm-specific knowledge Regina gave the Storybrooke residents she cursed, along with an identity and accompanying memories so I could get a job outside of Storybrooke.” 

“But—” Emma’s head was spinning, the jealous tendril writhing like a snake. “Why did you want a job outside of Storybrooke?” 

“There’s nothing for me in that town,” he replied, in echo of the last time they’d sat like this, drinking together. “Why would I stay?” 

“Well… I mean…” 

He drank again, deeply, and she tried not to watch his throat work as he did. “I saw an opportunity for a fresh start in a new place,” he said. “One that thinks Captain Hook is an object of ridicule with a perm and a waxed moustache.” He smirked wryly though anger flared in his eyes. 

“You saw that, did you?” 

“And read the book.” He drank again. “And as much as I may like to wring the neck of this J.M. Barrie, he did in a roundabout way afford me the chance to slip unnoticed into this realm and become someone new. And so I did.” 

“I’ll say you did. A high school teacher?” 

“And why not?” he challenged. “You’ve said yourself I’m good with children. And I enjoy it. It’s honest work, and rewarding.” 

Emma shook her head, struggling to get to grips with everything he was saying and everything she was seeing in him. He looked so familiar; even with the drastic wardrobe change his face and his hair and his voice were all just as she remembered. But he was different. A kind of different that couldn’t be explained away by the knowledge Tink had given him or his new life. His face and eyes were so expressionless, his body language cool and distant. She couldn’t detect event the smallest hint of the flirtatious pirate who used to invade her space whenever he could, always challenging her, always understanding her, always watching her with that unnervingly intense focus—like he wanted to uncover every inch of her. That man seemed so thoroughly absent from the one now sitting opposite her that for a moment Emma wondered if she had imagined him.

“Well, you seem to be good at it,” she said brightly. “Henry can’t say enough good things about your class. He’s thinking of taking another one with you, actually. Pre-calculus.” 

“Aye. I’ve already approved his request. He’ll start tomorrow.” 

“So are you as good a math teacher as you are an astronomy one?” She made her voice light, teasing, edging into flirtatious, hoping to draw out the pirate—even just a brief glimpse of him, just for a moment. Hook’s face remained impassive.  

“I do my job to the best of my ability in every class I teach,” he replied, then drained the last of his beer and set the empty bottle on the sea chest in front of the sofa. Emma sipped hers, feeling cold and confused and with a sharp ache of loss in her chest.  

Hook leaned back against the arm of the sofa and gave her a hard look. “So is your curiosity appeased, then, Swan?” he asked. “Do I pass muster? May I be allowed to continue with my job and my life?” 

She frowned, hurt by the harsh sarcasm in his tone. “I didn’t come here to—to investigate you,” she said, forgetting that this was the exact excuse she’d given herself for her visit. “I just wanted to see you.” I’ve missed you, she did not say. I thought maybe you’d missed me too. 

“And now you have,” he replied. “Is that all?” 

“I—I guess so.” Emma put her own beer on the table though the bottle was still mostly full. “I guess I’ll be going.” 

“I’ll see you out.” 

He could sound less eager about it, she thought, following him to the door. He opened it for her and she looked at him again, at this man so familiar and yet so strange, and realised that even though he was standing right in front of her she still missed him. She missed him. 

On impulse she leaned in close and wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly and kissing his cheek. His scruff was surprisingly soft beneath her lips and she heard him catch his breath, felt him flinch as if to hug her in return then stop himself. She lingered as long as she dared before stepping back, and when she looked into his eyes again she caught her own breath. 

There was the heat she’d started to think she had imagined. Heat and longing and that edge of danger that even a black and white thumbnail photo couldn’t disguise. In that split second he looked like he wanted to devour her, his breath hot on her cheek as he leaned closer, his eyes blazing with everything she had missed about her pirate. 

Then he blinked and his eyes were shuttered again. He grabbed her arms roughly, pulling them from around his waist and shoving her away, towards the open door. “Well, thanks for stopping by, Swan,” he said, not looking at her. “So nice to see you again. Tell Henry I said hello and not to forget his astronomy homework. Goodbye.” He shut the door behind her and she heard the click of the lock turning.

She fought the urge to cry all the way home. 

…

Killian leaned back against his front door and slowly slid down it, squeezing his eyes shut and letting his head drop into his shaking hand. Tremors racked his body and his chest was so tight he struggled to draw in gasping breaths. 

Three years. Three years since she’d left Storybrooke, left him, returned to the life she’d had when she couldn’t remember him and never looked back. Three years since she’d shattered his heart. 

Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, he thought bitterly, she walks into mine. He should have taken that job in Montana instead. Emma would surely never show up there. 

Of course, he hadn’t thought she’d show up here either, not in this city she’d already lived in and left. Emma wasn’t the sort of person to go back to places—or people—she’d put behind her. He’d thought he was safe here. 

It seemed he’d thought a lot of things that weren’t actually true. That he could withstand seeing her again, for one. That he was prepared. He’d coached himself, steeled himself, buried his feelings deep and locked them away. And all it took was one brief press of her body against his, one gentle brush of her lips across his cheek to break right through his carefully constructed defences and reduce them to dust. 

Tears prickled behind his eyes and he blinked them angrily away. He would not weep over Emma Swan, he told himself firmly, not again. Not today. Instead he would pull himself together again just as he had in Storybrooke, as he did every time thoughts of her overwhelmed him, and he  would get on with his life. Now that she’d seen him surely her curiosity would be assuaged and she wouldn’t return. He could find his peace again. 

…

The next morning Killian walked to work, a thing he did as often as possible. It wasn’t that he disliked driving, quite the contrary in fact. Cars, in keeping with many of the mechanical innovations of this realm, fascinated him, and aside from his house his car was the one possession in which he had truly indulged. 

In the staid upper-middle-class neighbourhood where he lived his sleek gunmetal-grey Aston Martin was almost acceptable, not outrageous enough to give his neighbours anything to actually complain about but more than sufficient to irk them in a way they couldn’t quite articulate when he zipped along their tree-lined streets with the top down. Had they known that the money he’d used to buy it was ill-gotten pirate treasure magically converted into the currency of their realm, they would have been even more displeased. The thought of that delighted Killian nearly as much as the car herself. 

And his car did delight him; the powerful hum of her engine and the way she responded to the smallest twitch of her wheel was the closest thing he’d yet found in this world to standing at the helm of the Jolly Roger in full sail. He’d purposely chosen a convertible for the feel of the wind through his hair, and as often as possible he took her out of the city, driving far too fast along quiet country roads and almost hoping the local police would catch him doing it. 

Once a pirate always a pirate, at least in some small ways. 

But still he preferred to walk to work. Idling in traffic was an insult to his car and a waste of her skills and anyway the walk was not a long one—hardly more than a good stretch of the legs, as Liam would have said. It took him barely twenty minutes along the shortest route and less than half an hour even if he stopped for coffee first.  

That morning, he stopped for coffee. He’d not slept well, too plagued by thoughts of Emma and then by dreams of her to manage any real rest. His eyes felt gritty and his head ached, and though the walk in the brisk morning air cleared some of the cobwebs from his brain it hadn’t made much of a dent in anything else. 

He ordered his usual black coffee and a not-so-usual blueberry muffin. The intense sweetness of breakfast foods in this realm he didn’t generally care for but this morning he needed a boost of something and sugar seemed as good a thing as any, despite the inevitable mid-morning crash it would bring. There were always donuts in the staff room, perhaps later he’d finally give one of those a try. Anything to get him through this day. 

He took his coffee and the bag with the muffin from the barista with the best approximation of a smile that he could manage and wished her a good day. She blushed. 

“Thank you, sir,” she said, and Killian shook his head as he turned to go. When had it come to pass that he, the erstwhile Captain Hook, was referred to as ‘sir’ by sweet and blushing young women? Probably right about the time he’d stopped calling himself Captain Hook. 

Still, the blush and her shy smile brightened his mood and he was just thinking that perhaps this day might not end as dreadfully as it had begun when he walked through the cafe’s outer door and straight into Emma. 

Coffee sloshed from his cup and onto his hand and he barely managed not to drop it or his muffin as he caught her around the waist with his prosthetic before she could fall, hissing in a breath at the feel of her pressed against him for the second time in less than twenty-four hours. She gave a small cry and grabbed his shoulders for balance, her eyes wide and startled. 

“Hook!” she gasped. 

“Killian,” he snarled, using the arm around her waist to steer her out of the path of the other people trying to get into the cafe. “I’d prefer it if you didn’t use that name anymore, particularly not in public,” he hissed, low for her ears only. 

“What, you think someone’s going to recognise you?” She smirked. “You don’t have enough hair for that.” 

“This isn’t a joke, Swan,” he said harshly. “I’ve left that man and his name behind me, and I don’t particularly care to be reminded of them.” Her fingers flexed on his shoulders and with a start he realised that they were still standing close together, his arm tight around her waist. He released her and stepped back so abruptly she stumbled, and cleared his throat before he spoke again. “What are you doing here, anyway?” he asked, though he had a terrible suspicion he already knew the answer. 

“Getting coffee,” she replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “This place was recommended in all the neighbourhood guides.” 

Neighbourhood bloody guides. “So you live nearby, then,” he said through gritted teeth. 

“Yep. About three blocks that way.” She gestured vaguely behind her. “I’m working in Boston, though. Setting up a new office of my bail bonds firm. What about you?” 

“You know where I live.” 

“Yeah, but I mean are you headed to work already? Isn’t it a bit early?” 

“The school day begins at 7.30, Swan, as I would expect you to know, being the parent of one of my students,” he said shortly. “And I am now officially running late. If you’ll excuse me.” He turned to go. 

“Killian.” Emma caught his arm and he flinched, both from the feel of her hand on him and the way she said his name. 

“What?” he snapped. 

“Can we—look, can’t we just—” 

“Spit it out, love.” He risked a glance at her, his fingers tightening on the muffin bag as their eyes met. 

“Can’t we be friends?” she burst out. “Please?”

 He stared at her for an incredulous moment and then the fury he’d been so carefully holding back exploded in his chest. He rounded on her, backing her up against the fence of the cafe’s outdoor seating area, keeping his voice low so as not to draw attention, spitting the words in her ear. 

“No, Swan, we cannot be friends,” he hissed. “We have never been friends.” 

It was far too tame a word, he thought, too tame a concept to ever encompass the complex tangle of emotions that Emma inspired in him. They had always been both more than friends and a good deal less, and as far as Killian was concerned she’d thrown away the more when she turned her back on him three years ago. The less was all that remained. 

They were standing much too close again, close enough that he could see the flecks of gold in her eyes and hear the rasp in her breath and he was so tempted, so bloody tempted to give in. To agree to be her friend and anything else she wanted, to accept whatever scraps of affection and attention she was willing to spare him and be grateful for them. But he’d accepted those terms before and they had all but broken him. 

With a massive effort he reined in his anger and stepped back, drawing a deep breath to calm himself. “As it appears that we are neighbours of a sort, I don’t doubt we’ll see each other around,” he said. “When that happens I will nod politely to you and exchange pleasantries about the weather and Henry’s progress in school and perhaps the latest performances of Boston’s various sports teams. Beyond that I can’t imagine that we would have anything to discuss.” 

He spun on his heel and stalked away, leaving her leaning against the fence, trembling and once more on the verge of tears. She stared at the door of the cafe for a long moment before turning away, no longer hungry but with an aching emptiness inside her that she had no idea how to fill. 

…

As he had predicted, Emma ran into Killian everywhere she went, or at least that’s how it felt. After their third encounter at the cafe—each at a different time—she’d started arriving early and lurking in her car until she saw him leave before venturing in herself. Even with that precaution she still spotted him at the grocery store and at the bank, and at the only pizza place in town Henry deemed acceptable as a temporary stand-in for Dino’s. He was everywhere she turned, nodding civilly at her each time they met and making a bland remark, his face and eyes so expressionless it made her want to claw at something. Preferably at him. 

Finally after two awkward weeks Emma found a welcome distraction, a temporary one but at least it was something to take her mind off Killian for one night: a skip that was a perfect target for a honey trap of the kind she hadn’t pulled in far too long. Anticipation buzzed in her veins as she approached the restaurant where they were set to meet, a swankier one than she usually preferred for these sorts of things but the skip was a banker who was clearly out to impress. 

Emma was out to impress too, in a dark red strapless dress that hugged every curve and heels that made her legs look endless. Her hair was perfectly curled and her makeup on point, and she flashed a smile at the doorman as she strode in, feeling slightly reckless and more confident than she had in some time, and completely failing to notice the woman standing just inside the doors until she’d bumped into her. 

“Oh, sorry!” she said, catching the woman’s arm as she stumbled. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.” 

“No problem,” replied the woman with an apologetic laugh. “I probably shouldn’t be standing in the doorway, but my boyfriend’s running late which is really not like him, and I’m not entirely sure what to do with myself while I wait.” 

She was a very pretty woman in a wholesome sort of way, with golden brown hair and dark blue eyes, and a warm smile that Emma couldn’t help responding to. 

“Well I hope he turns up soon,” she said, smiling back. 

“I’m sure he will,” replied the woman. “Have a great night!” 

“You too.” 

The skip was waiting for her at the bar, with a martini for himself and a glass of white wine for her. Emma ground her teeth behind a brilliant smile. Men who ordered for women without consulting them were the worst kind of assholes. She was going to enjoy nailing this fucker’s balls to the wall. 

“White wine!” she exclaimed, settling gracefully onto the barstool next to him and crossing her legs, making sure a generous portion of thigh was on display. “How’d you know?”

“I know what the ladies like,” he replied with a smirk he probably thought was charming. 

“You sure do.” Emma picked up the wine glass and took a sip, not missing the way his eyes lingered on her mouth as she did. She set the glass down and ran her fingertip along its rim, looking up at the skip through lowered eyelashes. “So tell me about yourself,” she cooed. 

“Well, I work for the biggest bank in the city…” he began, and Emma widened her eyes in feigned interest. From the corner of one of them she caught sight of the woman from earlier approaching a small table not far from the bar, accompanied by a dark-haired man who had his hand at the small of her back and was leaning down to whisper in her ear. Emma smiled to herself, glad that the woman’s boyfriend had finally showed, and then she got a good look at him. 

Killian. 

Emma’s heart stumbled and she froze, her eyes fixed on the couple as they arrived at their table. The woman was holding a pink rose, sniffing it with a soft smile as Killian pulled out her chair for her and kissed her cheek as she settled into it. He spoke a few words to the hovering waiter who nodded eagerly and scurried away, then sat down next to the woman and took her hand, lacing their fingers together and murmuring something that had her blushing and sniffing the rose again. 

My boyfriend’s running late… my boyfriend… boyfriend… the woman’s words rang in Emma’s ears as she watched them. They looked comfortable together but still with an undercurrent of excitement, like the relationship was new but not too new. Killian must have been dating this woman for at least a few months. Long enough for her to know that it wasn’t like him to be late, and not to feel insecure when he was. Long enough for her to casually call him her boyfriend. 

The waiter reappeared with a bottle of wine and a small vase for the rose. The woman laughed when he set it down in front of her and the look she gave Killian made Emma’s heart ache. The waiter poured their wine and they clinked their glasses together, then settled into what appeared to be easy and pleasant conversation. 

Killian looked… not precisely happy, Emma thought. But he looked content. Relaxed and at ease in a way she’d never seen him be before. He smiled often as the woman spoke and there was no flirtation in it, no smirk or leer or defensiveness. Just simple smiles from a man enjoying the company of his date. 

“Hey,” said the skip, snapping his fingers in front of her face. “You’re not even listening to me.” 

“Sorry.” Emma dragged her eyes away from Killian and tried to focus on her mark. She needed to stay sharp to spot the moment when she could jump in and cuff him with the least amount of fuss. It would be better if she could get him outside first; he looked like a runner and although she’d taken the precaution of clamping his car she didn’t really want to cause a commotion in a restaurant this nice. He started in again boasting about his job and she did her best to appear attentive but she couldn’t keep her eyes from darting back to Killian. That woman had seemed so nice, sweet and friendly and she didn’t even know who he was, thought Emma with a burst of anger. She didn’t know anything about him, not about his past and the terrible things he’d done… or about the losses he’d suffered… the way he could read her like an open book… how he used to look at her… the way he kissed…

Oh she knows exactly how he kisses, whispered a nasty little voice in the back of her head. And a lot more.   

Emma snarled at that thought, clenching her fist on her wine glass so hard that the stem snapped and its jagged point sank deep into her palm. 

“Ow!” she cried, loudly enough that several people at the neighbouring tables turned to stare. She didn’t look at Killian—she couldn’t—but she could sense his eyes on her and for a crazy moment she wished she still had magic and could disappear in a puff of smoke. 

“What the hell,” said the skip, glaring at her. “What is wrong with you?” 

“Nothing! I just—it just broke.” 

“You’re bleeding everywhere.” His lip curled in disgust but he made no move to help her. 

“Sorry,” she said. “I—I’m sorry.” 

“Fuck this,” said the skip, tossing back the rest of his drink and standing up. “You’re really hot but no lay is worth this much effort.” He tossed some money on the bar and walked away. 

“No—wait!” Emma tried to follow but as soon as she stood up a jolt of pain shot through her hand and made her woozy. Her wound was bleeding profusely now, dripping into the spill of white wine on the bar and turning it pink. The bartender was frantically trying to mop up the mess with one hand and waving a handful of cocktail napkins at Emma with the other. 

“Ma’am…”  he said faintly, “please don’t bleed on the upholstery…” Emma took the napkins and tried again to pursue the skip. She squeezed the paper against her palm in an attempt to stop the bleeding but her wound twinged agonisingly under the pressure and she stumbled, crying out again, and then a warm hand gripped her elbow. 

“Swan,” said Killian’s voice in her ear. “Let him go.” 

“No—he’s a skip—he’ll get away—” 

“You can’t chase him down with a bleeding puncture wound on your hand,” said Killian impatiently. “Let him go. You’ll get him another day.” 

Emma looked up at him, her head spinning from the combined effects of pain and blood loss, and his touch on her skin. He eased her back onto the barstool and she didn’t protest, sitting quietly as he took the napkins and dipped them into a glass of water he must have brought from his own table. Cradling her hand in his prosthetic one he gently dabbed the blood from her wound, easing out a tiny shard of glass that had been lodged within it. 

“You should get this seen to properly,” he said, his voice deep and gruff. “But I suppose you won’t.” 

“I hate doctors.” 

“Very understandable, but it might get infected. At least wash it well when you get home.” 

“In rum?” she challenged, hoping to rile him. He didn’t look up. 

“No need,” he said. “A good antibacterial soap should do the trick.” 

He finished rinsing the wound and set the used cocktail napkins aside, pulling a large cloth one from his pocket. She caught her breath as he wrapped it several times around her hand and secured the ends in a tight knot. His new prosthetic moved, she noted vaguely. Much more useful than a hook. No need to use his teeth. 

“There,” he said, stepping back. “That should do it.” 

Emma’s chest was aching, her mind whirling with how familiar and yet how strange this felt. Never, in all the times she’d thought of him over the past three years, not once had she imagined a situation in which Killian Jones didn’t flirt with her. Didn’t challenge her. Didn’t even fucking look at her. Flirty Hook she could handle, and cocky Hook. Even hot as fuck Hook breathless and wrecked after their kiss in Neverland she could handle. But this calm and controlled man who bandaged her hand without once looking at her face, this man she absolutely could not. She had no idea even what to say to him.

“I guess you think I should thank you,” she snapped. Her pain and confusion were too raw, too much for her to process right now. Anger was easier. It was hot and clean and she had more than enough to spare. 

Anger flashed across Killian’s face as well and she felt a perverse thrill at the sight of it. Good, she thought, he should be angry. She wanted to make him furious. 

“Don’t trouble yourself,” he snarled. “I have no need of any gratitude from you.”  

She hissed in a breath sharp with hurt and they glared at each other, the air thickening with the tension between them, brittle and volatile and unbearable.  

“Killian,” said a small, quiet voice, and they both turned to see the woman standing awkwardly a few feet away, twisting her hands together. “I’ve paid the bill,” she said. “I—I’m going to go.” 

The anger drained from Killian’s face, replaced by regret and guilt and a deep sorrow that made Emma feel ashamed. “Aye,” he said. “I’ll accompany you.” 

For a moment Emma thought the woman would refuse, but then she gave a small nod. Killian offered her his arm and she slid hers through it, and they left the restaurant together, not looking back. 

Emma shifted uncomfortably, feeling as if a million eyes were watching her. She swept the room with a defiant glare and as soon as Killian and the woman disappeared through the doors she headed towards them herself. With any luck she’d still be able to catch the skip before he could get the clamp off his car. She hoped so. She hoped he ran when she confronted him. She hoped he fought back and gave her an excuse to punch him in his stupid smug fucking face.

…

Killian dropped Anabel at her door with a kiss on the cheek and an apologetic smile, hating himself for the hurt confusion in her eyes. 

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said, squeezing her hand. She gripped his fingers hard. 

“Who is she?” she whispered. 

Guilt stabbed at him, followed by suffocating regret. He genuinely and deeply cared for Anabel, and he’d tried so bloody hard to be happy with her. He was almost happy, as close as he could remember being for the best part of three centuries, and so naturally he’d gone and buggered it the first chance he got. One glimpse of Emma pale and bleeding had wiped Anabel and his hard-won contentment and every other bloody thing clean out of his mind, and he had acted without a thought for anyone but her. 

“Someone from my past,” he replied. “I haven’t seen her in years. I thought I’d put her behind me but—” 

“You still love her,” said Anabel flatly. It wasn’t a question. 

Killian sighed. He really didn’t want to talk about this here, or now, or ever, but he owed Anabel the truth. 

“I don’t know how to stop.” 

She nodded, blinking hard as tears filled her eyes. He pulled her into his arms, tucking her head against his shoulder, soothing her as they fell. “I’m so sorry, Bela,” he said softly. “I care so much for you and I truly thought that we could—” 

She pulled out of his embrace and shook her head. “Don’t,” she said. “Don’t make any decisions now. Sleep on it. Talk to her, figure out whatever needs figuring. I’ll wait.” 

“I couldn’t ask you to—” 

“I’ll wait, Killian.” She leaned up and kissed him softly on the lips. “You’re worth it.” 

…

You’re worth it. Those words followed Killian home, chased him through his door and straight to his stash of rum. He’d mostly given up drinking it, needing to be sharp for his classes and limiting himself to a beer or two when he wanted to relax, but there were times that simply called for the hard stuff. 

He poured himself a generous glassful and tried not to let the words ring in his ears. You’re worth it. It was worrying, how hard such things still were for him to hear. No one had thought him worth much of anything for so long that he’d come to believe it himself. To internalise it, in the terminology of this realm.

He knew of course that he had some good qualities. He was intelligent and quick to learn, resourceful and decisive and courageous. A man couldn’t survive centuries in command of a pirate crew without at least a few of those attributes. But they counted for little when his shortcomings were constantly cast up at him by the one person he most wished to impress. Well you are a pirate… I’ve got magic, he’s got one hand… let me guess, with you?

Emma had certainly never thought he was worth much. Not worth staying in Storybrooke for. Not worth taking a chance on. Not worth loving. 

While he, fool that he was, could never stop loving her. 

He was deep into his fourth glass when his doorbell rang, and he knew without even looking who it was. Ignore it, whispered his sensible voice in his ear, but Killian was too drunk and too angry for the sensible option. 

The moment the door swung open Emma charged in, shoving him back and slamming it behind her. She rounded on him, fisting her uninjured hand in his shirt collar and pulling him against her. 

“I lost my skip because of you,” she hissed. 

In her heels and his stocking feet they stood eye-to-eye, pressed together from chest to knee, and every nerve in Killian’s body screamed in pleasure at the contact. He grabbed her hand and yanked it off him, pushing her away so forcefully she nearly fell. “You lost your skip because you broke your glass,” he snapped. “It was nothing to do with me.” 

“You distracted me. While I was working.” 

He glared at her. “What are you on about? I was having dinner, or about to—”

“You were flaunting that woman—” 

“Flaunting?”

“With the rose and the pulling out her chair and—” 

“That is simply how I treat the women I date, Swan,” he said, stepping closer to her again, backing her against the wall.  

Emma’s cheeks flared bright pink but she didn’t back down. “What, even when I’m not watching?” she sneered. 

“I wasn’t aware you were watching tonight!”  

“Oh, like you didn’t notice me as soon as you walked in.” 

Her breath was coming in short pants, the tips of her breasts brushing against his chest with each inhale, and his lust clawed inside him like a living thing desperate to get out. Killian leaned in until their lips were almost touching, torturing himself with her little gasp and the way her eyes darkened. “No, actually,” he growled. “I didn’t.” 

He pushed away from the wall and smirked at her. “I know this is difficult for you to grasp, love, but not everything in my life revolves around you,” he said harshly. “Until two weeks ago I thought I’d never see you again.” 

“Oh, so you just happened to be out on a date at the same place I was?” 

“That place being my girlfriend’s favourite restaurant, where we’ve dined many times before, you mean?” 

Emma’s lip curled. “Your girlfriend—”

“Aye. Of nearly a year.” 

“—you expect me to believe that Captain Hook has a girlfriend?” 

“No, Killian Jones has a girlfriend,” he hissed, stepping closer again. “What, Swan, did you imagine I would pine away in celibacy forever because you wouldn’t have me?” 

“Of course not! That was never—we were never—” 

Abruptly all his anger, his frustration, his lust, the electric thrill of sparring with her again drained away, leaving him numb but for the gnawing ache in his heart. “Indeed,” he said, and turned away. “We were never.” 

“That’s not what I meant, Killian.” 

“Isn’t it?” 

He stalked into the kitchen and retrieved his glass of rum, tossing it back and refilling it with a hand that was not quite steady. Before he could pick it up again Emma appeared at his elbow, whisking the glass away and taking a long drink. 

“Help yourself, love,” he snarked. She handed the glass back to him and he drained it, setting it down on the table. She refilled it without a word and took another drink. He sighed. 

“Why are you here, Swan?” he asked. “What do you want from me?” 

“I don’t know.” 

Fury licked at him again. “You don’t know,” he hissed. “Is that so? Well perhaps I can enlighten you.” He took the glass from her and emptied it, then slammed it down. “You wanted to make sure that I was still your faithful pet,” he spat. “That I would still come running the moment you crooked a finger, desperate for any scrap of your attention—”  

“That’s not true—”

“—despite your utter rejection back in Storybrooke and your complete lack of interest in me or my life in all the time we’ve been apart.” 

“I asked about you, or I tried—” 

“You tried.” 

“Yes! Every time I talk to my parents I ask—well, not ask but I try to—I thought you were still in Storybrooke!” 

“And so you thought you’d just use your parents to check up on me? And it never struck you as odd that they didn’t know anything?” 

“I just—I couldn’t—” 

“You couldn’t ask them directly because then they would know you were curious,” he concluded. “And we couldn’t have that, could we darling?” 

She grabbed the rum glass and refilled it. He watched as she tossed it back, wishing he could ignore his body’s reaction to her—that constant itch to touch, to trace the curves outlined by her clinging dress and sink into the softness of her hair. He still remembered how it felt beneath his fingers in Neverland, the taste of his rum on her tongue… he wanted to taste it on her again, to lick the traces of it from her lips and then deep into her mouth, wanted to rip that dress from her body and plunder her. The dark heat that flared in her eyes as she caught him staring, as she let the rim of the glass trail across her lower lip, said she knew exactly what he was thinking and she wouldn’t stop him. That she wanted everything he did. 

Slowly she set the glass down and stepped closer, close enough that he could smell her hair and feel her breath against his cheek. His cock was rock hard and he cursed it, cursed his helplessness to resist the pull she exerted on him. His hand curled around her waist without his permission, and when a small, satisfied smile curved her lips it slid down to grip her arse and pull her tight against him. 

She stiffened and for the briefest moment he thought she might pull away, and then she moaned and rolled her hips and he was lost. His arm wrapped around her waist as hers curled around his neck, he plunged his hand into her hair and she tugged at his, bringing their lips together in a clash of heat and lust and fury. She tasted just as he remembered and this time he chased it, battling her for control of the kiss. If they were going to fuck like this, he thought, in anger and animosity and not lovingly, reverently as he had so often dreamed… if they were going to fuck, they were going to do it his way.  

He slid his hands beneath her dress and hooked the index finger of his prosthetic beneath the thin strap of her thong, snapping it easily. She gasped against his mouth and he chuckled darkly, trailing into a groan as his fingers found the slick heat between her legs. She was so soft and so bloody wet—wet for him—that his head spun and his knees went weak, and he forgot his anger and their fight and sought only to pleasure her, pushing two fingers inside her and stroking her clit with his thumb, thrilling to the sound of her low moan and the sharp pain of her fingernails digging into his arms. 

He tugged her head back and trailed his mouth down her neck as his fingers worked inside her, dragging the neckline of her dress down with his teeth until her breast was freed then swirling his tongue around her nipple. 

“Oh, fuck,” she gasped. “Hook.” 

He jerked away like she’d doused him in ice water, his anger flooding back. 

“No,” he hissed. “Killian.” 

Emma’s eyes flashed defiance, “Hook,” she insisted, scraping her fingernails down his chest, popping buttons as she went. He knocked her hands away with his prosthetic and backed her up against the kitchen counter, his fingers still inside her, squeezing his hand to grind the heel of it hard against her clit, wrenching a helpless moan from her.   

“You want Hook?” he snarled. “Do you?”

“Yes!” 

“Well, you can’t have him. It’s me or nobody and I swear by all the gods in the heavens, Swan, if you call me by that name again I will kick you out of my house as you bloody are.” 

She glared at him, chest heaving, and he could see how badly she wanted to defy him. He prayed he’d have the strength to carry out his threat if she did. Their harsh breaths sounded unnaturally loud in the stillness of the kitchen until Emma bucked her hips against his hand and conceded. 

“Killian, then,” she said, grudging but breathless, like the name was an intimacy that she resented but also craved. He pressed her clit harder and she moaned again. “Killian,” she breathed, and it sent a spear of pure lust through him. 

He pulled his hand from between her legs and stepped back, holding her gaze as he put his fingers in his mouth and sucked them clean. “My bedroom is upstairs,” he said. “First door on the left.” 

Her eyes flashed again and then she straightened up, reached behind her back and in one quick movement unzipped her dress and shimmied free of it, smirking when he hissed in a breath at the sight of her naked body. She stepped out of the pile of fabric, still in her heels, and tossed her hair over her shoulder. 

“I’ll be waiting,” she said, and sauntered from the room. 

Killian ground his fist into the countertop and forced himself to count to sixty before following her. 

When he arrived she was sitting on his bed, leaning back on both hands with her legs crossed, one shoe dangling from the tip of her toe. He stopped in the doorway and feasted his eyes on the sight of her toned limbs and smooth skin as he slowly undressed, not missing the catch in her breath when he undid his trousers. 

“Curious, love?” he taunted. 

“Very.” 

He pushed the garments down, trousers and underpants together, smirking as her eyes widened and she drew a deep breath. 

“Well,” she purred, “you did promise I’d feel it.” 

He ignored the stab of anger, bit back the retort that it was Hook who’d told her that, and put a swagger in his hips as he closed the short distance between them. She sat up eagerly and reached for him but he caught her hand and held it back. 

“I want your mouth,” he said. “No hands.” 

She shot him a venomous glare but complied, laying her hands flat on the bed as she took his cock in her mouth, swirled her tongue around the tip then sucked hard. He clenched his teeth against an aching moan, wove his fingers through her hair and tried not to perish from the sheer pleasure of living out one of his favourite fantasies. 

She took him deep in her mouth, alternating hard suction with lazy strokes of her tongue and quick scrapes of her teeth until he couldn’t take any more and pushed her away, shoving her back onto the bed where she lay panting and looking very pleased with herself. 

“Too much?” she taunted. 

“For now.” He leaned over her, running his hands up the insides of her thighs and spreading them wide, then slipped his arms beneath them and buried his face in her cunt. She gave a strangled cry as he licked through her folds then sucked on her clit, pressing the tip of his tongue hard against it. Her hips bucked as she tried to push them up against his face but he held her down, licking her far more gently than he knew she wanted and forcing her to accept it. 

“Damn you, Killian,” she snarled, clutching at his head. He laughed and she gasped at the feel of the vibrations on her swollen flesh, then moaned when he resumed his onslaught, as hard as she liked this time, licking and sucking her roughly until she lay teetering just on the edge. 

“No…” she whimpered when he pulled away, blindly reaching for him as he leaned across her to yank open a drawer on his bedside table and withdraw a condom. He handled it with practiced ease, holding it securely in his prosthetic and tearing the packet open with his hand. 

Emotions flitted across her face as she watched him, anger laced this time with a touch of hurt. The hurt cut deep into his heart and made him furious. She really did think she’d had him on such a leash that he wouldn’t sleep with anyone else after she rejected him, he thought, giving her a nasty leer as he rolled the condom down his length. Her nostrils flared but she didn’t look away, and when he finished she grabbed his shoulders and shoved him onto his back, straddling him, kissing him roughly and digging her fingernails into his skin as she positioned his cock at her entrance and took him inside her.  

They groaned together at the sensation, the tight, slick squeeze of it. He thrust up as she ground down, groaning as she tilted her hips and arched her back to take him deeper, dragging her sharp nails down his chest. 

“Ugh that’s so good,” she moaned, and as they found their rhythm and began to move in perfect tandem Killian could only agree. Emma's head was thrown back, her hair curling wildly over her breasts and down her back, her muscles squeezing him as they rocked together in the most glorious dance of his life, and had he not already been as deeply in love as a man could be Killian knew that he would have fallen then. His hurt and anger ebbed away and he lost himself in sensation, in the indescribable bliss of sinking into the woman he loved and feeling her clenched tight around him, the sound of her sighs and moans in his ear. It was a feeling he never thought he’d know again after Milah, and certainly never dreamed he might know it with Emma. 

You don’t, he tried to remind himself. This is only sex. She doesn’t love you. She never will.   

He didn’t care about that though; in this moment with this woman he couldn’t care. He could only feel, and make the most of this one chance to feel these things with her. 

Emma’s breaths grew faster, harsh and short and catching in her throat, and as her rhythm began to falter he could tell that she was close. Gripping her arse tightly he flipped them over until she was spread out beneath him. She hummed in approval and hiked her leg up over his hip as he thrust in deep, driving her hard into the mattress over and again until she gasped and cried out, her eyes squeezed shut and back arching as a pink flush spread across her skin. It was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen and it sent him flying over the edge, choking out his own cry as ecstasy gripped him harder than ever before. He collapsed onto his side and pressed his face into the crook of her neck, conscious of little more than the smell of her skin and the gentle caress of her fingers through his hair. 

They lay like that until their breathing calmed and their skin cooled, and gradually reality began to encroach. Killian forced himself against every will he had to move, untangling himself from her and rolling over to remove the condom and dispose of it in the bin next to his bed then grabbing a handful of tissues to clean them both up. 

He dreaded what he would see when he turned back again but Emma still lay where he’d left her, her face calm and showing no signs of panic or regret. She took the tissues he offered without comment and cleaned herself, grimacing a little when she handed them back. He dropped them in the bin along with his own and took a deep breath, waiting for the excuses he knew had to be coming, for the sound of her getting up and running away, leaving him yet again. When the bed shifted but none of those things came he risked another look at her. 

She was snuggling back against the pillows, and as he watched she pulled back the blankets and slid beneath them. He held his breath and did the same, swallowing hard when she slid over to him and curled herself against his chest. 

“Emma—” he began. 

“No,” she said firmly. “No.” 

She cuddled closer, slipping a leg between his and an arm around his waist. He tangled his fingers in her hair, stroking a silky strand between his thumb and forefinger as she hummed in contentment and closed her eyes. A moment later so did he.  

He didn’t know how long he lay there, his eyes half-closed and his nose in her hair. He was adrift in the moment, this extraordinary, unbelievable moment of softness between them when Emma not only allowed him to hold her but actually snuggled into him, fitting her body to his like it belonged there, like there was nowhere else she wished to be. Killian suspected she would regret it in the morning and when she woke she would push him farther away than ever. But now, here, in this moment, she was his. 

Her skin was so soft, he marvelled, so silky beneath his fingertips that he couldn’t stop himself from touching her, gently stroking down her body, the dip of her waist and the curve of her hip, down her thigh and up again, over her arse and along the ridge of her spine to sink once more into her hair. 

Slowly he became aware that she was touching him as well, her hand trailing over his thigh and hip, up his back and down his shoulder, pausing briefly to explore the tattoo there then slipping further on to sift her fingers through the hair on his chest. He caught his breath as she discovered the scatter of tiny stars tattooed across his heart, almost lost among the dark strands, and traced the pattern they described with unnerving accuracy. 

She looked up at him with eyes hazy with desire, blinking slowly as he brought his hand up to cup her cheek, his thumb caressing the dimple in her chin. He kissed the dimple, thrilling to the little hum of enjoyment she gave. He kissed her nose and her forehead and both her cheeks, and then, finally, her lips. 

The kiss was slow and soft and and achingly tender. Killian poured his whole self into it and everything he felt for her, fully aware of what he was confessing but unable to care. Emma knew his feelings whether she wished to accept them or not, and he had nothing to lose. 

She opened her mouth with a soft moan and took the kiss deeper, pulled him closer, her tongue on his sending heat licking up his spine, her hands stroking it across his skin. He wanted to touch her everywhere, worship her as he had in his dreams, distil a lifetime of devotion through the prism of this one act. But there wasn’t time for all he wished to do and so he made do with what he craved the most. The soft weight of her breast in his palm and the hard peak of its nipple, how she moaned into his mouth as he stroked it with his thumb.  His fingers caressing her, slowly down her belly then between her legs, sinking deep into her velvety heat. Her tongue soft and wet as she licked down his neck, nipping at him, leaving marks that would linger on his skin for days and break his heart anew each time he saw them. 

Emma shifted beneath him, aligning their bodies and lifting her knees to cradle him, holding him close and kissing him hard as he slid inside her. The wet warmth of her mouth and her cunt made him dizzy; the squeeze of her legs around his waist and the clutch of her hands on his shoulders and back urged him on. He tried to go slowly, to make this last as long as possible, but the sounds of her pleasure, the way she clung to him, the sheer elation of sharing this with her—however illusory it may be—was too great to withstand, and far too soon they fell. 

She gasped and he groaned as ecstasy gripped them both, her fingers curling through his hair and pressing his forehead to hers, their eyes locked as she fluttered around him and that gorgeous flush suffused her skin once again. Caught in the delicate tenderness of the moment, wrapped in intimacy and awash in sensation, Killian struggled to contain the words he longed to say to her. He tried his best to hold on to what he knew was true—that this was just an interlude, a moment soon to end—but against all good sense, his better judgement, and even his will, he felt that tiny, stubborn bud of hope bloom yet again in his heart. Perhaps, it whispered to him as he rolled onto his side and Emma followed, curling herself tightly around him and sighing contentedly against his chest as they drifted off to sleep. Perhaps.

…

A prickly sensation in her arm woke Emma. She resisted it, groaning internally and trying to will herself back to sleep. It was far too early to be awake, she could tell that much even through her drowsy haze. It was early and she was so comfortable but for the prickly arm, warm and contented and relaxed, with Killian’s chest beneath her cheek and his arms tight around her. 

Killian— With a jolt Emma came fully awake, staring up at his sleeping face with eyes gone wide in dismay. What the hell had she done? 

Slept with Killian Jones was what she’d done—God, she couldn’t even call him Hook in her head anymore. She’d charged into his house and drunk his rum and had sex with him—twice!—and it had been just everything she had ever fantasised about and more. So much more. Far, far too much more. 

She forced herself to pull away, away from the warmth of his arms and of him. The fact that she had to force herself had panic gripping her chest. She wanted to stay, she realised with a flash of the same terror that had sent her running from him in Storybrooke and the same regret she’d felt on realising, not even a week after her return to New York, that leaving him had been a terrible mistake. For three years she’d tried to bury her regret over that one rash decision, buried it and ignored it and denied it, without success, and now here, finally, she had the chance to make things right. All she had to do was slip back into his arms, curl up where she wanted so badly to be and go back to sleep. 

But she couldn’t—it was too much, too fast, and she wasn’t ready. His feelings were too big for her to deal with and hers… hers she couldn’t even bear to think about. She scrambled away, trying not to jostle him, but his eyes blinked open anyway and she froze just on the edge of the bed, caught by the look in them. He had such expressive eyes, true windows to his soul as the saying went, laying bare his every thought and feeling, and it had always amazed Emma that he never seemed to mind how vulnerable they made him. He’d hidden nothing from her, not since Neverland and not until these past few weeks when the cold, shuttered blankness in those beautiful eyes had cut her more deeply than she’d realised. They weren’t blank now, though, but brimming with emotion—with hurt and anger and a weary, hopeless resignation that clawed at her heart.

“I...” she began, trailing off when she realised she had no idea what to say, how to explain. How to make him understand. 

Killian sighed and leaned over the edge of the bed. She heard a drawer opening and then a soft t-shirt landed in her lap. “You can wear that downstairs,” he said. “Your dress is on the kitchen floor.” 

“Killian—” 

Emma groped for the words to tell him that she didn’t want this to be the end, that she wasn’t trying to run from him again. She just needed some time and a bit of space to process all the things that had happened and how she felt about them. But his face was blank again and his eyes so terrifyingly hard that the words wouldn’t come. 

“Don’t,” he snapped. “Don’t fucking bother. Just go.” 

She swallowed over the aching lump in her chest. “I never meant for this to happen,” she whispered. 

He snorted. “Let’s not kid ourselves, love,” he said, and she flinched at the bitter edge in his voice. “You’ve wanted to know how I fuck since the beanstalk. Now that you’ve finally got it out of your system perhaps we can both move on.” 

“Move on,” she choked. “You’ve done that already.” 

“I’ve certainly tried,” he said. “Anabel makes me happy. She actually likes me for myself and while you may not think I deserve that I choose to believe I do. I’ve worked bloody hard to put my past behind me and build a respectable life in this realm.” 

A life that doesn’t include you, his words implied, and she nodded, fighting the tears that prickled behind her eyes. She slipped the t-shirt over her head and scrambled from the bed, grabbing her shoes as she fled, desperate to get away from him before he could see her cry. 

…

Killian managed to hold off his own tears until he heard his front door close behind her and then they came in a torrent. All the anguish he’d kept so tightly locked away these last three years—the heartbreak and the guilt, the regret over the life he’d led and the choices that had shaped him into someone a woman like Emma could never love—came rushing forth like the sea through the hull of a sinking ship. He turned his face into the pillow that still carried her scent and wept for all he had lost in the course of his long life, for every terrible deed he’d done and every beautiful thing his touch had destroyed. He wept until he had nothing left inside him, until he sank into a restless, dreamless sleep. 

 When he awoke again the sun was pouring in through his windows with offensive brightness and he groaned, rubbing his eyes and wishing that just once the habits born of centuries on the sea would leave him alone to wallow in his bed. Instead he dragged himself up and stumbled into the bathroom where he splashed cold water on his face and ignored his hollow-eyed reflection in the mirror as he brushed his teeth, then went downstairs. 

In the kitchen he found his t-shirt, folded almost neatly and draped across the back of a chair. With shaking hands he picked it up and pressed it against his cheek—just for a moment—then with a guttural cry flung it away against the wall. 

…

Emma spent the next week driving herself as hard as she could, working the toughest cases, the longest hours, hounding the staff at the new office with her demands. Anything, anything, to avoid having to think. If she stopped moving even for a second she saw Killian’s face in her mind’s eye and heard his voice telling her to go, and the ache of loss would hit her again, as fresh and raw as the moment it happened. 

Losing something she’d never really had shouldn’t hurt so much, she thought, and frankly she resented it. She felt swamped by a strange sort of untethered frustration, an uncomfortable feeling and uncomfortably familiar. She’d last felt it back in Storybrooke, that antsy itch under her skin whenever Killian was near, in the few quiet moments they’d shared in between battling flying monkeys and breaking curses. She’d managed to ignore it then, seizing on the witch and the curses and Neal as convenient distractions, excuses not to think about Killian or her feelings or what he wanted from her. What she wanted from him, what they could have. And as soon as those distractions were gone she had run. Just as she always did. As she would continue to do, damn it, until she found something that made her want to stay. 

She refused to think about how badly she’d wanted to stay in Killian’s bed. 

...

“Mom,” said Henry the following Saturday, coming into the living room to find her dusting the corners of the bookshelves, “can I ask you something?”

“Hmmm?” Emma dragged her attention away from her determined assault on the cracks in the wood. “Sure. What’s up?”

Henry shifted uncomfortably. “Um, have you—have you seen Hook at all since we moved here?” 

“Killian,” said Emma automatically.

“What?” 

She felt her face grow hot. “He prefers to be called Killian now.”

“So you did see him!” cried Henry. 

Emma set her dusting rag down with a sigh. “Yeah. I did.” 

“Did you guys have a fight or something?”

“Kind of, I guess. It’s hard to explain.” She cast a sideways glance at her son. “Grown-up stuff.”

“Mom,” sighed Henry, with his special ‘I’m a teenager now’ eyeroll. “I’m not a kid anymore and I’m not stupid. I know that you and Killian—that there was something going on with you guys in Storybrooke and I know that’s part of the reason you left.”

“Henry—”

“And I saw how you reacted when I told you he was here. It’s okay to talk to me about it.”

Emma made a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob. 

“I mean, no details,” he said with a grimace. “But like, in general.”

“Henry.” Emma rubbed her temples. “I appreciate it, really. But I can’t. I can’t even think about it.” 

“You really should. It’s not a good idea to hold stuff like that inside.” 

“Stuff like what?” 

“You know. Feelings. You hold yours in too much.” 

“I know. I know I do.” She frowned at him. “How did you know there was… something with us in Storybrooke?”

“It was pretty obvious, Mom. He came all the way from the Enchanted Forest to New York to get you, and then when we got back to Storybrooke you two were always talking together or at Granny’s, and when you weren’t with him you asked him to babysit me. Which you wouldn’t do unless you trusted him.”

“That’s true,” Emma whispered. She had trusted Killian. She did. 

“And then after we moved back to New York you never asked about him,” Henry continued. “When you talked to Grandma and Grandpa you asked them about everybody in Storybrooke, even my mom. Even Leroy. But you never asked about him. If he’d only been a friend you would have.” 

Emma shook her head. “Kid, when did you get so smart?” 

“Duh, I always have been. Thanks for noticing.” They were silent for several minutes before Henry spoke again. “And you know,” he said, “I wouldn’t mind. If you wanted to, you know. Date him.” 

“Really? Would you really want me to be with a pirate?” 

Henry shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s kind of hard to think of him that way anymore. But I always liked him, mostly. He took me sailing and told me about my dad. And he’s probably the best teacher I’ve ever had. And he’s been looking really sad all week.” 

“He has?” 

“Yeah. Everyone’s noticed. He’s all quiet in class, not like he usually is. And he hasn’t been having lunch with Miss Hartfield.” 

Emma’s heart gave a painful thump. “Miss Hartfield?” 

“The physics teacher,” Henry clarified. “They always used to have lunch together. All the girls in my class thought they were dating and now they’re all crying cuz they think they’ve broken up.” 

“Is Miss Hartfield a very pretty brunette with dark blue eyes?” 

“Yeah.” Henry looked surprised. “How did you know?”

“I—met her. Last weekend. She was having dinner with—with Killian. I guess they really are dating. The girls in your class should be happy.” 

“Oh.” Henry’s eyes filled with sympathy. “I’m really sorry, Mom—” 

“It’s okay.” Emma swallowed hard and forced a smile when he gave her a skeptical look. “Really! I’m okay.” 

“You’re not—” 

“I am.” Emma wrapped her arm around Henry’s shoulders and pulled him into a hug. “Or I will be. I just—need a little time. Is your homework done, by the way? Speaking of your teachers.” 

“Oh, yeah, nice segue.” Henry rolled his eyes, playing along, though it was clear from his face that he didn’t believe her. “It’s nearly done.” 

“Well, get it all done and then what do you say we order pizza and watch some bad movies. Unless you’ve got other plans?” 

“Nope. I’m all yours.” 

…

By the next Thursday, Emma had almost convinced herself that she was fine. Killian still crept into her thoughts far more than she’d like but the ache he brought she convinced herself was less severe. She didn’t have to fight so hard to stop the tears from welling up or keep herself constantly distracted.  

It’s like he said, she told herself fiercely. It was just an itch that needed scratching, and now it’s scratched that’s it. No hard feelings. No feelings at all. 

Thursday afternoon as Emma was leaving work, Henry texted her that his friend Becca was having some problems and wanted to talk and he was going to her house for a little bit. His homework was nearly done, he said, and he promised to finish it when he got home.  

Said homework was spread out over the dining table when Emma returned and she went to gather it up and put it to one side so she could sit there herself and have some dinner. Her heart skipped when she saw it was astronomy he’d been working on, the book still open to a page illustrated with several constellations. One of them caught her eye. It looked like a slightly tilted cross with bent arms, and it tickled something in her memory. 

She frowned and bent down to get a closer look. That pattern of stars looked so familiar. Emma racked her brains trying to remember where she could have seen it before. It couldn’t have been that long ago, she thought, and—oh. Oh. She flushed as the memory resolved with uncomfortable clarity, and her heart began to pound. 

She recognised that pattern because she had traced it herself through the hair on Killian’s chest, connecting the sprinkle of stars tattooed over his heart. She remembered thinking how odd it was, him having a tattoo there where it was practically invisible. His other tattoos were elaborate and brightly coloured and on places where he had less hair, but those tiny stars she would never have noticed if she hadn’t had her face pressed right up against them. 

It did make sense, she reasoned, for an astronomy teacher to have a constellation tattoo, though all his others featured names and clear associations with people from his past. But this one—Emma peered more closely at Henry’s book looking for the constellation’s name, and when she found it sank slowly into the chair, her knees gone too weak to support her. 

It was the constellation Cygnus. The swan. Killian had a swan tattoo. Right above his heart. 

He was in love with her. 

Emma let her head fall into her hands as the full force of that realisation hit her, with the strength and fury of a hurricane. She was aware he had feelings, strong ones, and though she’d never let herself think too much about them she couldn’t pretend she hadn’t known. But this… this was serious. He wouldn’t put her permanently on his body with Milah and with Liam unless it was big-L love. Killian loved her, or at least he had. Did he still? Could he still, after what had happened between them?

She closed her eyes and thought about the last words he’d spoken to her, about his girlfriend—Anabel—and how happy he was. Her breathing sped up an her hands trembled as she recalled it, the memory she’d tried hardest to escape and with the least success. The closed expression on Killian’s face and the flat tone of his voice were etched into her mind as clearly as if she were back there in his bedroom living that terrible moment all over again, and she realised with a flash of shock that he’d been lying. She’d been too upset to see it at the time but now her superpower was screaming at her. He’d lied to her, and not even well. 

A bubble of hope rose up in her heart. If Killian was lying about being happy, about having moved on, then maybe… maybe there was a chance that he still loved her. Maybe if she told him how much she missed him… if she reached out, if she tried… maybe they could actually talk. The way he’d acted the other times they’d met… his coolness, his distance, his anger… of course he was just trying to protect his heart from further hurt. She could certainly understand that. But if she told him, if they talked, then she could fix this. She could get the old Killian back again—the one who looked at her with warmth in his eyes and always believed in her. The one she could now admit to herself that she deeply and desperately missed, not the way you miss a friend you haven’t seen in a while but like a part of herself was gone. 

She sent Henry a quick text telling him where she was going and raced out the door. Ten minutes later she was standing in front of Killian’s, practically leaning on the bell. 

Killian opened his door and for the first time looked surprised to see her standing there on his small porch. 

“Swan!” he exclaimed. “Is Henry okay?” 

“Um.” Emma frowned. “Yeah, he’s fine. Why would you think he wasn’t?” 

“Why else would you be here?” 

“I wanted—” She took a deep breath. “Can we talk?” 

“Talk,” he repeated in an incredulous tone, then eyes moved from her face to something behind her and he smiled a huge, fake smile and waved his hand. Emma turned around to see a middle aged woman waving back as she walked down the sidewalk, a similar smile on her face and a very sharp look in her eye. The moment she looked away Killian grabbed Emma’s arm and pulled her through the door. 

“Come inside, Swan, before the whole neighbourhood sees you,” he hissed. 

“Since when do you care about the neighbourhood?” 

“Since I have to live in it.” He glanced around then shut the door tightly. Emma went into to the living room and perched on the edge of the sofa, trying not to fidget. Killian followed but remained standing in the doorway, watching her with a dark scowl.

“What do you want?” he asked. 

“I told you—to talk.” 

“I don’t believe we have anything left to say to each other.” When she didn’t reply he sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. “What is it you wish to discuss?”

“Your tattoo.” 

Emotion flashed in his eyes, apprehension and a hint of alarm. It flared just for an instant and then was gone, as thoroughly as if it had never been. Had she not been looking for it, Emma thought, had she not known how to read him as easily as he did her, she’d have missed it completely. “I have many tattoos,” he replied. 

“I’m talking about one in particular. The stars over your heart. It’s a constellation, isn’t it?” 

Killian’s face was like stone. “Aye.” 

“Which one?” 

“Swan—” 

“Exactly.” Emma pounced. “It’s Cygnus. The swan. You have a swan over your heart, Killian.” 

He shrugged. “What of it?” 

“What of it is I don’t think you get tattoos that have no meaning. You’ve got Milah on your arm, Liam on your shoulder, someone called Alice on your hip who I’m willing to bet is your mother, and over your heart is—is—” 

“Is you,” said Killian flatly. “Is that what you want to hear, Emma? The swan is obviously for you. Because I love you, and because I can’t resist torturing myself with permanent reminders of everyone I loved who is lost to me, etched into my bloody skin. Is that what you came here to get me to confess? It’s a poor confession when you already knew.” 

Guilt swamped her, heavy and suffocating. “I didn’t know,” she attempted to protest, her voice quiet but falling like lead in the face of his stark confession.  

Anger snapped in Killian’s eyes, fuelled by a pain she hadn’t seen before. Hadn’t allowed herself to see. “Don’t lie to me, love, and don’t lie to yourself,” he snarled. “Of course you knew. You knew when I all but begged you not to go back to New York, and you still left. You knew when you slept with me and you still tried to sneak away before I awoke. You’ve always known exactly how I felt and it has never once stopped you from breaking my heart.” 

“Killian—” 

“No. I can’t hear this.” He ran a hand over his face. “Go now, Swan, and don’t come back.” 

“Don’t come back?” she choked. 

“What would be the point? We both know where we stand and I—” his voice broke “—I can’t live with a gaping wound in my chest.” He turned to look at her, his face for once not blank but open and raw and with a plea in his eyes that tore at her heart. “Please, Emma. If you care anything at all for me, leave me alone now. Let me have the chance to heal.” 

Emma’s brain was screaming at her to say something, stop him, don’t let this happen, don’t let him go. FIX THIS. But everything he said was true, every angry, hurtful word of it. She had known his feelings and had she had taken them for granted, even used them against him, never thinking of how that might hurt him. She’d caused him so much pain already that she couldn’t now refuse this one small, heartbreaking thing he asked of her. 

It’s too late. You pushed him away one time too many and now he’s gone. 

“I talked to your girlfriend, you know,” she said, forcing the words past the clawing ache in her chest. “At the restaurant, before you got there. She seems really nice.” She risked a look at his face and almost cringed at the wariness in his expression. “I’m glad you’ve found someone like her, Killian. I really am. You do deserve it. You deserve to be happy.” She stood and moved towards the door, refusing to be hurt by the way he visibly tensed as she drew near. “I—I hope you’ll be happy.” With one last look to fix his face forever in her memory she turned and ran from his house. 

…

When she got home Henry was back, sitting at the table with his homework. He looked up to greet her, the cheerful words dying on his lips when he saw her face. He jumped to his feet and hurried over to wrap her in a huge hug. Emma gripped him tightly and let the tears she felt like she’d been holding in forever finally, finally fall. She cried as she could never remember crying before, great heaving sobs that left her empty and drained and clinging limply to Henry’s shoulders.

“What can I do?” he begged. “Mom, tell me what I can do.”  

Emma sobbed again, wondering what she’d ever done to deserve him. “Do you think it’d be okay if I came back to Storybrooke with you this weekend?” she asked. “I just really don’t want to be alone.” 

“Are you kidding?” Henry smiled, a bright smile that did nothing to disguise his worry. “Grandma and Grandpa would love that!” 

“They would. What about Regina?” 

“Honestly, I think she’d be glad to see you too. Everyone would. People have missed you.” 

“And you wouldn’t mind me tagging along?” 

Henry hugged her again. “I’d love it.” 

…

They drove up to Storybrooke as soon as Henry finished school the next day, arriving at her parents’ loft just in time for dinner. Snow and David were as thrilled as Henry had predicted, hugging her between them, smiling widely with damp eyes. Emma found her own eyes growing damp as she leaned into the comfort of their embrace, her heart tripping when David gently cupped the back of her head. 

“Dinner’s almost ready,” said Snow when they finally pulled apart, cradling Emma’s face between her hands. “Why don’t you and Henry go sit at the table?” 

“Is there anything I can—” 

“Nope,” said Snow firmly. “It’s all under control.” 

Emma seated herself at the table between David and Henry and looked around at the loft. “Wow, have you guys changed anything in this place since I was here last?” she asked. 

“Um, I think those curtains are new,” said David absently as he attempted to wrestle a protesting Neal into his high chair. Henry grabbed a toy and distracted his uncle with it long enough for David to get the toddler’s legs through the holes and settle him in. Emma’s heart tripped again. Henry was so comfortable here, far more comfortable with her father and brother than she was, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that. 

“We’re thinking of moving, actually,” said David, sitting down next to Emma. “There’s a farm just outside of town that’s for sale, we might buy it.” 

“You want to be a farmer?” said Emma blankly. 

“I grew up a shepherd,” he reminded her. “And this place won’t be big enough once Neal is older and wants his own room. Plus we haven’t entirely ruled out the idea of more kids. So I think it’s an opportunity we shouldn’t pass up. Your mother, on the other hand—” 

“I don’t object to it, exactly,” said Snow as she set a bowl of salad and a large platter of chicken on the table. “It would just mean a long commute if I’m going to keep working with Regina.” 

“You’re working with Regina?” 

“I’m the deputy mayor,” said Snow. 

“You are? Since when?” 

“Um, about two years now?” 

“Oh.” Emma fell silent as her parents launched into a debate on the merits of farm vs town in a way that made it clear that this was an old, comfortable discussion, frequently rehashed. Henry chimed in with a comment every now and then, egging them on, and Emma ate her chicken rather sullenly and tried not to feel left out. 

“So what’s it like being back in Boston after so long?” David asked her, when the conversation hit a lull. 

“It’s fine, I guess.” She shrugged. “A bit weird. I don’t normally like to go back to places I’ve left.”

An awkward silence fell and Emma felt herself flush. “I mean, I’m not saying I never would, but—” 

“How about you, Henry?” Snow jumped in. “How do you like Boston?” 

“It’s pretty cool. I like that there’s so much history. And my school’s really good.”

“Are you still having a hard time with math?” asked Snow, smiling fondly. “I remember that was always your downfall when you were in my class.” 

“No, actually, I’ve got a really great teacher at the new school.” Henry shot Emma a questioning look and she nodded. “It’s, um, actually it’s Hook.” 

“Hook?” David frowned. “What, like Hook Hook? He’s your teacher?” 

“Captain Hook?” said Snow. 

“How many Hooks do you know?” snapped Emma, irritated by their disbelief. 

“Well,” said Snow, now looking surprised at Emma’s vehemence. “It’s just a bit strange, isn’t it? That Hook’s a teacher?” 

“I don’t think so,” said Emma. “He always taught Henry stuff when he used to watch him before.”

“And my dad too,” said Henry. “In Neverland.” 

“Really?” asked David, still frowning. 

“Yeah. He’s the one who taught my dad how to navigate and how to sail. Seriously, Grandpa, he’s really good at it,” said Henry decisively. “Everyone loves his classes.” 

David shook his head. “Not that I don’t believe you, Henry, it’s just hard to imagine. It’s hard to imagine Hook as anything but a pirate.” 

“It’s not that hard,” retorted Emma, stabbing at a piece of lettuce on her plate. 

 “Well, you know, after Pan’s curse when we all landed back in the Enchanted Forest he could hardly wait to get back to his pirate’s life,” David pointed out. “He barely stayed with us for an hour.” 

“Though to be fair, it was mostly his ship he wanted to get back to,” said Snow. “And it’s not like that was an option for him here.” 

“That’s true,” David conceded. “I guess it’s hard to be a pirate when you’ve got no ship. He could’ve stolen one, but I genuinely did have the feeling he wanted to turn over a new leaf.” 

“Wait, wait—what do you mean, no ship?” demanded Emma. “What happened to his ship?” 

Snow, David, and Henry all turned to her in surprise. “Don’t you know?” asked Snow.

“Know what?” 

Snow and David exchanged a glance. “Hook traded his ship,” said David. “For the magic bean he needed to get to New York to find you. Didn’t he tell you?”

“He traded his ship…” Emma’s head began to spin. “For me?” 

“Well, yes, in a way,” said Snow. “Did he really not tell you?” 

“No. He never said a word.” 

“Well I guess we only know because David basically dragged it out of him,” said Snow. 

“He was moping around the town so much after you left,” said David. “Drinking and getting disruptive. I threw him in the cells for a night and in the morning tried to gently suggest he might be happier if he took his ship out for a few days to clear his head, and he said that would be a bloody challenge when Blackbeard had his ship.” 

“Blackbeard!” Henry exclaimed. “I didn’t know that part. He hates Blackbeard. Said he’s the worst kind of pirate, a man with no code and no honour. Why would he trade his ship to Blackbeard?” 

“He didn’t say. I guess he just really wanted to get back here and find Emma.” 

No one was looking at her but Emma could feel the weight of their attention, and she groped desperately for something to say, some way to respond to this revelation. But as always when she was overwhelmed with emotion, no words came. She poked at her food, feeling frozen and numb and so terribly sorry, and desperate for a distraction. 

One came a minute later in the form of a knock on the door. Emma had never been more glad in her life to see Regina, come to pick up Henry with Robin Hood and a delighted Roland at her side. In the bustle and confusion that followed their arrival, Emma slipped away to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water, downing half of it in one gulp then pressing the cool glass to her temple as she tried to calm her turbulent thoughts.   

Regina hugged Henry and watched as he hugged Robin and Roland, smiling a smile that made Emma blink with a new shock of astonishment. It was unnervingly soft for the erstwhile Evil Queen, warm and happy. 

“What the hell happened to Regina?” she whispered to her mother when Snow came into the kitchen with their empty plates. 

“What do you mean?” Snow frowned. “She looks just the same to me.” 

“Yeah but remember I haven’t seen her in three years. She looks… well, she looks happy.” 

“She is happy,” said Snow. “She and Robin got married last year you know, and—” she broke off when she saw Emma’s face. “You didn’t know.” 

“Huh-uh.” 

“But didn’t Henry tell you? He gave her away.” 

“I—don’t really ask Henry about his visits here. And you never mentioned it.” 

“You don’t ever seem to want to talk about Storybrooke with me either,” Snow replied. “You ask how everyone is, but whenever I try to offer details you change the subject. Have you left this place behind so completely, Emma?” 

“I’ve tried to,” said Emma, in a burst of honesty. “I wanted to get away from all of it—magic and villains and being the Saviour. I never wanted any of that and I never really felt like I belonged here.” 

“You never really tried,” said Snow. “But there’s always a place for you in Storybrooke, sweetie, whenever you want to take it.” 

…

Killian parked his car in front of Granny’s and got out slowly, taking in the sight of the familiar streets and buildings with a resigned sigh. He hadn’t been back to Storybrooke since he’d moved to Brookline, hadn’t had any desire to return until seeing Emma again had stirred up all the old feelings he’d worked so hard to bury. This past week his new life had felt like it was suffocating him—the students who looked up to him, the colleagues who respected him, Anabel who loved him. All of them so obviously concerned by the shift in his mood, caring about him, and the weight of all the pretence he’d built around himself threatened to crush him. Not a single one of them truly knew him, what he was and the things he’d done, the life he’d led for so very many blood-soaked years, and Killian hadn’t been able to bear another second of their kindness.  

The Rabbit Hole was just as he remembered, loud and raucous and full of people playing their own game of pretend, fuelled by alcohol and shielded by the brittle jocundity of such places. He looked around for Tink but couldn’t see her, and though he strained his ears could hear nothing over the pounding music. He pushed through the crowd towards the bar where he finally caught sight of her, perched on her knees atop a barstool and waving him over. 

“Hey!” she cried, leaping down from the stool and throwing her arms around him. He froze in surprise for a minute then tentatively hugged her back. 

“Tink,” he said cautiously. “Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah, fine.” She released him and stepped back, grinning as she took him in. “I guess I just missed you.” 

“That’s new,” he snorted. 

“Well you used to call me, if you remember, the first year or so after you left. Now I barely hear a word for months on end until suddenly you text to say you’ll be here in three hours and can I put you up for the night. So I have to ask, is everything okay with you?” 

Killian tried to summon his old cocky grin and some quip to reassure her, but they refused to come. Everything wasn’t okay, far, far from it, and he knew this was at the root of his spur of the moment decision to come back to Storybrooke. He needed to talk to someone who truly knew him, all of him, and who had known him at his worst. Tink was, as strange as it may be to think about, his best friend. 

“No,” he said, and watched her eyes widen at the stark honesty of his reply. “I’m not okay. At all.” 

Tink’s face softened and she looped her arm through his, and he let her lead him to an empty pair of stools at the very end of the bar. They sat and Tink ordered a bottle of rum and two glasses, then rested her hand just above his prosthetic and listened, keeping his glass filled as he told her everything. He told her of how hard he’d worked to make a place for himself in this land and build a new life to go with it, and how at times he felt that he’d succeeded in that aim but at others felt a complete fraud. He spoke about his job and how much he loved it and the joy of helping his students learn, but how he still felt unworthy of the trust placed in him by the school and by their parents. He told her about Anabel and how much he wished that he was whole enough to love her and then finally, haltingly, he spoke of Emma. About seeing her again and all that had occurred between them, and the way he’d spiralled afterwards into a depression so deep he wasn’t sure he could recover.

“I’m so tired of living sometimes,” he said. “You know what I mean.” It wasn’t a question but Tink nodded anyway, memories of long nights spent sharing rum and companionship in Neverland hanging thick between them. “Obviously time passes differently there, you have less of a—a sense of it passing, but—” 

“But it still passes,” she said. 

“Aye. It still passes, and I’ve passed so bloody much of it. And sometimes I think about how in terms of the physical age of my body I’m only about thirty-five. I could live another fifty or sixty years, easily, what with the medical marvels in this realm, and at times I just wonder—” he drew a deep breath “—I wonder if that’s really what I want.” 

“You want to die?” Tink asked carefully. 

“Not precisely.” Killian tossed back his rum and she poured him some more. “I’m just exhausted by the prospect of more living. Does that make any sense at all?” 

Tink nodded, sipping her own drink before speaking. “Years can be a burden,” she said. “Fairies are immortal so we don’t feel them the same way humans do, but we see how they affect you. Most humans your physical age would still have a lot left to look forward to but you’ve already lived the lifetimes of at least three men. It’s understandable that the prospect of living another might feel overwhelming.” 

“So what the hell am I supposed to do about it?”

“Well, assuming you don’t actually want to end your life?” 

“I don’t,” he assured her. Though he couldn’t deny that the thought had crossed his mind in his more desperate moments, Killian had fought too hard for his survival to ever end himself by his own hand. 

“Then you have to find something to live for,” said Tink. “Or someone?” 

He shook his head. “Emma doesn’t want me.” 

“It doesn’t have to be Emma.” 

“It can’t be anyone else,” he muttered, glowering into the depths of his glass. “Not for me.” 

“You felt that way about Milah too.” 

“I thought I did, but this is different. Milah and I—we were in love but our relationship wasn’t healthy. I can see that now. We didn’t bring out the best in each other; in fact we probably brought out the worst. She wanted the cocksure pirate and so I leaned into that role, for her. We both leaned into it, and we enjoyed it, the plunder and the destruction and the casual cruelty. I think it made us both feel powerful.” He sipped his rum and shot a sideways glance at Tink, who was watching him attentively and still without judgement. 

“But Emma, though,” Killian continued, setting his glass down and flexing his fingers around it. “Emma makes me want to be better. Even when I thought I’d never see her again, even though I know we’ll never be together I still want to be the man she inspired me to become.” He squeezed the glass harder, almost hoping it would shatter in his hand. “But then, if I’m only being that man because of her is that truly who I am? And how can I try to build a life with someone like Anabel when I know I can’t love her as she deserves and I’m only even remotely like someone she might want because of my feelings for another woman?”

Tink wrapped her arms around one of his and squeezed it sympathetically, resting her head on his shoulder. “I wish I had an answer for you, Hook,” she said. “But who you truly are, or can be, is a question you have to work out for yourself.” She paused as they both drank. “Have you ever considered telling Anabel about your past?” 

He snorted. “Tell a sensible science teacher from the land without magic that I’m Captain Hook? Oh yes that would go over brilliantly.” 

“That’s not what I meant,” said Tink. “I meant telling her a modified version of what happened to you, with your parents and Liam and Milah. Letting her see a bit more of who you are and what shaped you.” 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Killian sighed and ran his hand over his face. “I’ve thought about it. I genuinely don’t know if it would help or just be a burden on her. For all she knows I’m just a normal man born in Bristol, England in 1981. How would I even begin to fit parental abandonment, a dead brother, and two tragic romances into that man’s life?”

“Two?” 

“She already knows about Emma.” 

“Right. Well, you’d have to get creative, but if it helped her know you better? At least you could try.” 

Killian drank again then tightened his arm to pull Tink closer, resting his cheek on her head as the the pleasant haze he craved began to settle over his mind. “Do you know why I fell in love with Emma?” he asked. Tink shook her head, her hair tickling his nose. “It wasn’t her courage or her kindness or her beauty, though those are all contributing factors. It was because she understood me. We understood each other, from the very beginning, in a way I’d never known before. It scares her but I—I crave it. And that’s what’s missing with Anabel and with every other woman I’ve known, even Milah. That connection of the whole self. It’s something that can’t be forced or—or brought into being. It is or it isn’t, and that’s that.” 

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure that I don’t have the energy to sort through all of this realm’s women in hopes of finding a pale reflection of it. I’ve found the love of my life, Tink. It took three centuries but I found her, and I offered her my heart, and she refused it. I don’t think the answer is to try to patch over that wound with another woman. I don’t know what the answer is. Perhaps there isn’t one.” 

He frowned as Tink tensed against him, her eyes going wide. “Perhaps the answer is Emma,” she said. “And you just haven’t asked the right questions yet.” 

He followed her gaze and felt his jaw clench. Tink clung to him for another brief moment, whispering in his ear. “She might still be your answer, Hook. Don’t lose hope just yet.” 

…

Once Henry left to spend the night with Regina and her parents went to put Neal to bed, Emma muttered something about taking a walk and fled the loft, desperate for some space and time alone to sort through her muddled thoughts. As painful and chaotic as they were she knew she had to think them, and feel the feelings that they brought. Already she’d lost so much by trying to run from her feelings. More even than she’d known. 

Killian had given up everything for her. That was the thought that kept echoing in her brain. He’d given up his ship, his home, his most prized possession. He’d given it to a man he hated, all so that he could get back to her, knowing she wouldn’t even remember him. All to bring her back to her family. Her home. 

And what had she done? She’d scorned him and pushed him away, denied her feelings and run away from them and from him the first chance she got. No wonder he was so hurt. No wonder that pain had turned to anger. He should be angry, she thought in disgust, he should hate her. Yet she knew that despite everything he didn’t. He may not want anything to do with her anymore but he didn’t hate her. She almost wished he did. It might actually make the weight of her guilt and regret easier to bear. 

For the first time in her adult life Emma actually, genuinely faced her feelings, and thought seriously about what they were and what they meant. She didn’t love Killian, not the way he loved her, but she could. All the elements were there, from the way they had always understood each other to how easily she’d trusted him to the electric sizzle of their sexual chemistry. It was that could that had scared her, sent her running three years ago. The vulnerability it represented, the loss of control, terrified her. It felt like standing at the edge of an abyss with her her toes hanging over the edge and a gale force wind at her back. She’d fallen into that abyss before with terrible consequences, but then Killian was not Neal. She knew, somehow, beyond any doubt, that if she let Killian Jones into her life he’d never leave her. 

If she had let him in. It was too late now. 

She began to cry again, not with the wrenching sobs she’d cried the day before but with heavy, drenching tears that flooded her cheeks and dripped off her chin faster than she could wipe them away. Her chest felt hollowed out, aching and empty and hopeless.

She caught sight of the neon sign for the Rabbit Hole and swerved abruptly to her right, cutting across the street without looking for cars. Fortunately there were none. This was Storybrooke, after all, even on a Saturday night. And she really, really wanted a drink. 

The Rabbit Hole was fairly busy, its noise and bustle comfortingly familiar. Emma kept her head down as she moved towards the bar, hoping no one would recognise her. It wasn’t until she was nearly there that she spotted Killian. 

He was sitting at the end of the bar with a half empty bottle of rum and Tinkerbelle beside him, her arms looped through his and her head on his shoulder. The obvious, comfortable intimacy between them sharpened the ache in Emma’s chest and reminded her of her suspicions about what their relationship had been in Neverland. She was certain it was more than either of them had let on. 

As she stood frozen and wondering what to do, Tink looked up, her eyes widening in recognition. Killian frowned and followed her gaze and when he saw Emma the look that flashed across his face nearly broke her heart. He shook Tink off and stood up, tossing back the rest of his glass of rum and heading for the door. 

Before she could think better of it, Emma spun on her heel and took off after him. She caught his arm just before he could reach the door and he spun around, yanking it from her grip. 

“Bloody hell, Swan, can I never be free of you!” he cried, and the hopeless defeat in his voice made her tears well again. She forced herself to remember that his feelings were justified, that she had done this to him and that he didn’t owe her forgiveness or anything else. 

“I’m sorry,” she said in a small voice. “I didn’t know you’d be here and I don’t want to bother you, but Killian—” 

“What?” 

“My dad—he told me what you did. How you traded your ship for a magic bean to come find me in New York.” 

A faint flush coloured Killian’s cheeks and he shifted uncomfortably. “It was nothing,” he said. “Anyone would have—”

“No, anyone definitely would not have,” cried Emma fiercely. “You gave up everything you had to get me back here and then I just turned my back on it, and on you. And I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry, Killian, and I don’t expect you to forgive me. I just—I wanted you to know.” 

He swallowed hard and gave her a small, guarded smile. “You made what you thought was the best decision for yourself and Henry,” he said gruffly. “That’s all anyone can do. I’m just glad you’re happy.” 

“But I’m not,” she burst out. “I’m not. I mean, I’m not unhappy exactly but I miss—I miss you.” She heard his sharp intake of breath but barrelled on before she could lose her nerve. For once in her life she knew just the words she wanted to say and she was going to say them. 

“And you were right,” she continued. “I knew how you felt about me and I threw it back in your face and pushed you away whenever I could. I was scared of my own feelings, of how strong they were, and I know that’s no excuse but all my life I’ve always run from things like that. I run from things that make me feel too much and I still can’t believe that anyone could really care as much about me as you seemed to and so I ran before I could find out that you didn’t. I know I hurt you. It wasn’t always unintentional, and God, Killian, I am so fucking sorry for that too.” 

She swallowed hard, twisting her hands together, feeling the intensity of his gaze on her but not daring to meet it. “And I know that there’s no chance for—for us anymore but I wanted you to know how much I regret it. There’s nothing in my life I regret more than ruining things between us before they could even really start.” 

Gathering her courage she looked up at him, and caught her own breath at the expression on his face, that soft, intense expression she’d missed so much. “Do you want there to be a chance?” he said hoarsely. “If there was a chance, would you—could you take it?” 

Emma gasped again as hope exploded in her heart and it began to race. She nodded. “Yeah. I think I could. I would.” 

“You think?”

She stepped closer, looking up at him, hardly daring to breathe. Music pounded through the air around them, voices shouted, bodies danced, and they were the only two people in the world. 

“I could,” Emma whispered, “I can and I will if—if that’s what you want too?”

Killian drew a shaky breath and his fingers trembled as he reached up to caress her face, brushing softly across her cheek before sliding into her hair. He pressed his lips to hers in the gentlest kiss of any they had shared, a butterfly’s wing of a kiss, a kiss of promise and forgiveness and hope. Emma sighed into it as it slowly deepened, as Killian’s fingers tightened on the back of her head and hers gripped his jacket and she couldn’t suppress a moan. 

When they broke apart she was breathless and dizzy and he was beaming, a bright, dazed grin that made her heart soar as he leaned his forehead against hers. “Do you really mean it, Emma?” he whispered. “You really want—” 

“You,” she said. “Yeah. I want you, and I want us.” 

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “I’m yours, love,” he said. “As you know.” 

“Just like that?” Emma pulled back enough to look at his face while keeping her arms tight around him. “After all the hurt I caused you, you can just forgive me?” 

“Aye, just like that. I’m not saying all the hurt is healed or that we don’t have  things to work through. But of course I can forgive you. I love you.” 

“Killian—” 

“Shhhh, let’s just leave it there for now,” he said. “It’s nothing we didn’t both already know. We’ll work on the other half later.” 

“Later,” Emma murmured, snuggling back into his arms. “I like the way that sounds.” 

…

@thisonesatellite​ @katie-dub​ @mariakov81 @stahlop @teamhook @kmomof4 @shireness-says @thejollyroger-writer​ @snowbellewells​ @jennjenn615​ @tiganasummertree​ @lfh1226-linda​ 

[1dfangirls35]

Voir Dire (N.H.) A fake dating OU about contracts, soulmates and risking it all for love.

Masterlist // Tell Me What You Think!

epilogue

Six months later...

When Kelsey was younger, she used to dream about what it would be like to be a pop star. To have an arena full of people gather just to hear your voice or get a glimpse of your face from the balcony seating. She'd imagined you'd feel like you were on top of the world, that no one could bring you down from the clouds.

Niall had told her being on stage was a mix of two things: euphoria and an intense amount of pressure. You had to live up to others expectations, but at the same time you had to revel in the fact that you were living the dreams of so many other people. Niall said when he'd first started out, the pressure had overwhelmed the enjoyment, but as time went on the nerves lessened.

He didn't look nervous now, standing at his dressing room mirror at the Forum, adjusting the collar of his navy blue button down, tufts of his chest hair peeking out of the top buttons. Kelsey smiled to herself as she watched him, totally in his element.

"What?" Niall asked, catching Kelsey's gaze in the mirror.

"Nothing," Kelsey mused, wrapping her arms around Niall from behind and resting her head against his shoulder as she gazed at their reflection in the mirror. "You just look so cute when you're focused."

"You mean I look fucking sexy," Niall teased, grabbing Kelsey's hand from around his waist and planting a kiss on the back.

"Right. That's what I meant," Kelsey laughed, her eyes twinkling. "Nervous?"

"Nah," Niall shrugged. "Just excited. Glad you could make it."

"Me too."

The past six months had been a whirlwind for Niall and Kelsey. Niall's video about Capitol had went viral (as expected) and luckily his fans were quick to jump to his defense. There were several #CapitolIsOver parties on Twitter, numerous articles questioning the promotional methods of the entertainment industry and even other celebrities expressing their experiences with PR teams. The reception was better than Niall could have possibly imagined.

Niall and Kelsey were still going strong. It wasn't always easy, especially with Kelsey being at Stanford and Niall being in LA. Niall spent his free weekends visiting her, the pair spending their Saturday mornings with breakfast in bed and their evenings wrapped in each other's arms. They still kept their relationship out of the private eye, but there was something so powerful about being able to walk down the street with their fingers interlocked without fearing what would happen if there were paparazzi hiding around the corner.

Now, Niall was about to be on the road again. Touring the world was arguably one of his favorite parts of his job and this tour felt even more special, because six months ago, he wasn't sure it would even happen. Having Kelsey here tonight, at the kickstart of his world tour, after everything that had happened- well, it already made it one of his favorite nights of all time.

There was a knock at the door, shifting Niall's attention to the door. "Five minutes," the voice behind the door booms.

"Ready?" Kelsey asked. Niall nodded.

Niall's hand gripped Kelsey's smaller one as they walk slowly from his dressing room, the calluses of his fingertips rough against Kelsey's skin. As they near the stage, Kelsey began to hear the murmurs of the crowd. There's something electrifying about it- the soft chants of Niall's name mixed with the low music.

When they reach the side of the stage, the crowd just visible out of the corner of his eye, Niall paused.

"Ready boss?" Jake asked from beside him, his guitar already in hand.

"Been waiting for this day for months," Niall exclaimed. He squeezed Kelsey's hand slightly.

The music in the crowd stopped and the crowd began to roar as the lights dimmed. Niall leaned over to plant one delicate kiss on Kelsey's lips before stepping onto the stage.

She watched him closely as he made his way to the center, picking up his guitar and slinging the strap over his shoulder before shouting a "How are we doing Los Angeles?" into the microphone. The crowd responded in incomprehensible screams. The grin on Niall's face as he began to strum the guitar tells her everything about how much he loves his job, and she began to realize just how much he had been willing to give up for her.

The thought made her heart warm. She never had thought she'd allow herself to receive that kind of love. A love so deep that nothing else in the world mattered. But here she was, looking out at the man to whom her heart belonged, without fear of what could go wrong. It's clear to Kelsey now that everything that happened to her over the past few years has led her to this very moment. This perfect moment.

Niall turned to look at Kelsey on the side of the stage, her body softly swaying to the beat. Their eyes met and Niall's smile widened. There were thousands of people in this arena yet he only wanted to stare at the face of one person, the person who against all odds was his. He thought about the past year and a half, the fears he'd had, the sacrifices he'd made, the career he'd put on the line. But looking in her eyes as he slowly begins to sing the opening line of Black and White, he can't help but think that he would do it all over again. Every lie, every contract, every forbidden kiss, every risk-it was worth it. This love was worth risking it all.

A/N: Just wanted to say a quick thank you to everyone who has read, reblogged, commented or liked this story. I’m so so grateful for your support! This was the first full story I’d published on Tumblr and I am so thankful for anyone who gave it a chance (and put up with my terribly inconsistent updates). If you have any last thoughts, comments or feedback, I would absolutely love to hear them! 

As for what’s next...I’ve got a Harry ballet minific in the works (I think I’ll post the story page for that soon) as well as a Niall weatherman AU in the early stages that will likely resemble the shorter snapshot structure of All The Love, H if you’ve read that. Definitely still in the early stages of those, but think I will try to finish them up before posting :)

Also a special birthday shoutout to the man behind it all- Mr. Niall James Horan. I'm sure in some alternate reality, he and Kelsey are celebrating accordingly :)

THANK YOU AGAIN!!!

Tag List: @awomanindeniall​​ , @ihearthemcallingforyou​ , @niall-is-my-dream​​ ,​  @stylishmuser​​​ , @thicksniall

[human-trash-fire]

Shot Through The Heart Ch. 2

Aelin:

Aelin reclined deeper into the massage chair currently working the knots in her upper back, as the water continued to fill at her feet. Mimosa in hand she sighed and closed her eyes, she was at peace for a brief moment before Lysandra shrieked. 

“OH. MY. GODS. A, why didn’t you tell me?!” She practically screamed, much to the chagrin of every patron in the upscale salon. 

“Tell you what…?” Aelin replied, rolling her head dramatically to the right to look at her friend.

“You’re trending on twitter again” she shoved her phone in Aelin’s face, “and you’ll never believe why!”

Aelin looked at the Twitter homepage and there at the top, with 1 million retweets and counting was #AelinCallHimMaybe. “What the hell? Hang on,” she put down her drink and pulled out her own phone. Flipping apps she went to Twitter to find the hashtag. There was a video linked, by someone with the handle “@moonmoon69”right at the top.

“WAIT! I wanna see this” Lysandra said at the same time Elide, on her left leaned in and said “Click it!” All three girls, heads together and mimosas abandoned, crammed in to look at Aelin’s phone.

She clicked play and immediately one of the most beautiful men she had ever seen appeared on the screen. His sepia toned skin was glowing in the sun, and he had long blonde hair pulled into a bun atop his head. He was wearing a Terrasen Army uniform, though the jacket was completely forgotten, and the t-shirt he wore instead clung to every dip and curve of muscle. He was standing in what was clearly a military post somewhere in the desert and smiling with perfect charm. “Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, you are my Queen. I, Sergeant First Class Fenrys Moonbeam, would like to humbly ask you to accompany me to the Army Ball this year. Please, call me maybe?”

Aelin’s jaw hit the floor as the scene before her cut to boots walking on the ground, and the music began. Suddenly Fenrys was back on the screen lip-syncing the lyrics to possibly the cheesiest pop song ever written, and all three women began laughing. Aelin couldn’t help it when her heart skipped a beat as Fenrys turned to the camera and winked at the end of his verse. The scene changed again and this time Fenrys, and four other men, all equally muscular and attractive, were laying on chaise lounges in nothing but short-shorts and combat boots. 

“You have to say yes, look at them!” Lysandra squealed, while Elide nodded vigorously on her other side.

The men continued to lip sync from different places on the base, always shirtless and shining with sweat. Aelin at this point had began to laugh hysterically, and all three girls crooned over the men dancing on screen. They had absolutely no talent, but seemed not to care how ridiculous they looked as they popped up from the dirt and lit off colored smoke in the background. Each of the six men had a turn to solo into the camera. Aelin’s breath caught again when, towards the end, the silver haired man with tattoos seductively danced around in what looked to be a makeshift kiddy-pool.

The last frame was all of them looking over the camera from above and smirking, before they walked away. The twitter handle @moonmoon69 popped up once more with the hashtag #AelinCallHimMaybe below it. All three girls were still giggling as she closed the link out, and looked up from her phone.

“Sweet gods,” she breathed, trying to calm herself down a bit. “Did you know the Army made men that look like that?”

“Did you see the one with long dark hair and black eyes? He looks like an angry sex God, and I think I need him in my life,” Elide replied.

“You’re saying ‘yes’ right? Do it for me, us.. Do it for Terrasen. It’s your civic duty,” Lysandra pleaded.

“For Terrasen?” Aelin replied with a conspiratorial grin, “Fuck it, i’m in. But you two are helping me figure out how to respond to this and, you’re coming with me. But first-” she chugged her previously forgotten mimosa, “Pedicures.”

***********************

“How do I even go about doing this?” Aelin asked over brunch a few hours later. The three women hadn’t stopped swooning over the men in the video, and if Aelin was being honest they had watched it three more times before ever arriving at their table.

“Well you obviously need to DM him” Elide replied, ever the voice of reason.

“Buuuuuut,” Lys dragged out the word with a smirk, “I think you should make a video of your own. It’s good press and he’s clearly in need of some feminine attention. You’ll blow his mind, and then hopefully other things,” she finished with an outrageous wink.

“LYS!” both Aelin and Elide screeched before the three erupted into a fit of laughter.

When they finally recovered, Aelin agreed that the first step should be making a video of her own. The publicity would do wonders for her, and she could reach out and worry about the logistics later. After a long debate they decided that the best way to respond would be something flirty but not embarrassing. “Let’s give the men overseas something to daydream about,” Aelin finished with a smirk.

*******************************************************

Rowan:

Half awake and entirely pissed, Rowan was sitting at the table eating breakfast with most of his Cadre when Fenrys burst in yelling “I TOLD YOUUUUU!”

“Its 0400. Why the fuck are you yelling?” He practically growled over his coffee.

“Because,” Fenrys smiled as he sat down, “She responded, you’ll never believe this… Hang on.” Fen pulled his laptop out and set it so that they could all see, then directed their attention to a video he had already pulled up. There she was, smiling at the camera with practiced ease, flanked by not one but two equally beautiful and famous women: Lysandra Ennar and Elide Lochan. Rowan’s eyebrows kissed his hairline.

“There is no way-” He began, but was quickly shushed by Gavriel, Connall, Vaughn, and surprisingly even Lorcan. Fenrys pressed play.

The three women were dressed in what could only be described as the “slutty Halloween” version of the uniform Rowan currently had on. Paired with black heeled combat boots and red lipstick, her long tan legs were on full display. Rowan hated to admit it, even to himself, but she was the literal embodiment of his “questionable” teenage dreams.

“Hello gorgeous,” Aelin practically purred. “First and foremost I’d like to thank you and your delicious Cadre for that lovely video.” Rowan choked on his coffee at the name she used for them, the name they used for themselves.

“I’d be honored to be your date to this year’s Ball, but I have a few small requests. My friends here,” she motioned to the women beside her, “would like to accompany us so that we can have a chance to properly thank you for your dedication to Terrasen. We’d like to take you Fenrys, and the men in your video on a night out in Orynth after the ball… If you’re interested.” She grinned at the camera, and the look made Rowan’s heart beat a little too fast.

“If you’ll have us,” Lysandra spoke now, “We’d like to show you around in style. A limo for the event, the penthouse suite at The Palace hotel, and a private after party for your friends and a few more of ours.”

“In the meantime,” Elide continued, “Enjoy the care packages we’ll be sending to each of you just as soon as we get your information. If you have any special requests, don’t hesitate to ask!”

“A little something to help the days go by faster on your long, and hard deployment,” Aelin winked. “We can’t wait to meet you.” 

The last shot was all three women blowing a kiss to the camera. Rowan couldn’t believe it. The Princess of Orynth had responded to Fen. It took them nearly an entire day off to make that stupid video, more than one bottle of whiskey, and it had worked. 

“Holy shit,” he breathed, the 6 men were still staring with their jaws on the floor at the frozen image of the women on screen, lips still puckered.

“I KNOW!” Fenrys laughed, “I told you it would work, and when we get home we’ll have the most insane night of our lives. You can thank me anytime.”

“Thank you,” the entire cadre chimed in unison while still staring at the screen. The next 2 months were going to drag along knowing what was waiting for them when they returned home.

Rowan cleared his throat, “But, you’re still on laundry duty boyo.” 

__________________________________

Here’s a link to the video that inspired this fic! 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0PKiUjRSKI8

____________________________________

FIRST AND FOREMOST: MAAAAAAAAD thanks to @highqueenofelfhame​ for editing this work, your writing is an inspiration and I’m so thankful to have you there to read my nonsense before it’s published!

Secondly: Thank you all so much for the positive responses/ reblogs on Chapter 1! I’m so excited to share this chapter with you and I assure you I have many more to come <3 Feel free to follow along on ao3 glam_reaper2 <3

Tag List:

@http-itsrebecca​ @highqueenofelfhame​ @feyrethedarklady​ @someonemagical​ @thebitchupstairs​ @over300books​

[yurimother]

Top 34 Yuri Anime

From mid-February to mid-March Akiba held a poll asking viewers what their favorite anime series were. Over 50,000 votes were counted and in the end, they organized the 34 entries by votes to declare which series was the most popular. While not including every yuri series, these titles do vary wildly from pulse-pounding action to salacious dramas and subtext filled slice of life shows. Of course, the eternal problem with popularity polls is that they only show what is, well... popular. So I have decided to organize the same 34 series into my own list, based on a mixture person preference, influence, and historical importance to the genre. Note that this list is not exhaustive, as there are more than just these 34 Here we go!

34. Kuttsukiboshi – No surprise here. While impressive from a technical standpoint, as this two episode series was written, directed, and animated by one may, Nayoya Ishikawa, this impressive feat does nothing to sate the deep loathing I have for Kuttsukiboshi. I found it not only nonsensical but disgusting and offensive at almost every turn.

33. Maria Holic – Ok this one has some funny moments and a solid opening theme but mostly it is about a cross-dressing sadist abusing the hell out of one of the cringiest characters ever written.

32. Valkyrie Drive: Mermaid – ew

31. Seraphim Call – Certainly not the worst but age really took a toll on this anime. It is entirely lost to history, only obtaining 12 votes in the original poll.

30. Love To-LIE-Angle - FANTASTIC TITLE, gross series that was forgotten before it even finished

29. Kurau: Phantom Memory – whut

28. Hidamari Sketch – How did this below average series get as many anime adaptations as it did?

27. Candy Boy – 2007 - 2009 was weird. I actually like parts of this one, as it is really cute, but you have to turn your brain off because full out incest. I have not heard about this one since 2009 and that seems to be cool with everyone involved.

26. The Girl in Twilight – I had never heard of this before doing this piece, which says a lot about this anime’s cultural importance. But it is a good watch.

25. El Cazador de la Bruja – worth one good watch and that’s about it.

24. My-HiME – Raise your hand if you have heard of this one. That is what I thought, and yet it is #13 on the original list.

23. Pandora in the Crimson Shell: Ghost Urn – There is no real place to put this one and that says more about it than I ever could.

22. Blue Drop – Weird show, you should watch it, but not memorable

21. Simoun – This one is actually a sort of hidden gem but it is lost to history for most people.

20. Destiny of the Shrine Maiden – It baffles me how this mostly mediocre mecha series was so popular. That being said, the ending of episode 11 is some of my favorite directing ever.

19. Saki – Ya know, you never hear about this one but it is actually one of the most popular, and was #6 in the poll. It is basically a mahjong sports style anime so I have no idea how it is so popular but hey, lots of people swear by it. The ultimate you “love it or hate it” show for a lot of people strangely as well.

18. Netsuzou Trap -NTR – I held off as long as I could. While really popular I cannot stand this anime, my loathing of it is rivaled only by Kuttsukiboshi.

17. Sasameki Koto – A pretty well-known yuri series. The books are FAR better, but still an enjoyable watch beloved by many yuri fans.

16. Inugami-san to Nekoyama-san – It pains me to not be able to place this one higher, as it is one of my favorites and so hilarious, but overall there are other series that just deserve to be above it.

15. Konohana Kitan – Adorable, just adorable.

14. Black Rock Shooter – It's astonishing that an (admittedly awesome) character design can spawn multiple anime adaptations, a hit song, and its own franchise. The anime adaptation packs some good old-fashion emotional suffering and cool fights but nothing really beyond that.

13. Strike Witches – Far more popular and influential than it has any right to be. One of the most salacious shows on this list I always feel uncomfortable watching it but I do love the characters.

12. Yuri Kuma Arashi – The creators behind this were clearly not sober and probably could have used a cold shower for other reasons as well, but it is an INCREDIBLE anime with some of the best, although extraordinarily odd, writing.

11. Liz and the Blue Bird – Things are starting to get a bit difficult now, this one is actually hard to place. Being only a year old we are not sure of the impact it has but the movie is beautiful and stunning with some really bad pacing.

10. Sakura Trick – Full of fluffy fanservice, and pretty popular. This is one that almost every yuri fan will enjoy.

9. Maria Watches Over Us – The show that revived the sister-love story, a lot of the most popular yuri would not exist if not for this gentle diamond.

8. Yuruyuri – A yuri somehow becomes one of the best slice of life series of all time. Its fame is well deserved, as the memorable characters and dynamics can be enjoyed for many, many viewings.

7. Bloom Into You – What started as a run of the mill yuri series became one of the most well-loved. One of the biggest anime of last year and a darn good yuri to boot. I wonder how we will look back on this one a decade later.

6. Citrus – DEAR GOD. I know how controversial this series is for many people and that some of you want to grab pitchforks right about now in response to me placing this high on the list but hear me out. Whatever your feelings about Citrus, and there is plenty of valid criticism to make, it is a very influential and popular anime. It scored the top spot on Akiba’s list by over 5000 votes. For me, it holds a special spot as the first real review I ever wrote (thank you, Erica, for the opportunity).

5. Sweet Blue Flowers – We are in the top five now, yet I still feel that I have placed this series far too low. It is one of the most grounded yuri series and ten years later its impact on the genre is still clear.

4. Strawberry Panic! – This was my first yuri and will always be special to me for this. But, there is no doubt that this series is actually worse than a lot of the ones lower than it on this list. I can almost feel the seething rage directed towards me for placing what can realistically be described as an aging, parodied, melodrama so high.Yet, as I gaze through my strawberry colored glasses, I see that Strawberry Panic has a magic to it. For so many in the American community, it holds a special place and I have heard my story with it reflected so often that I just started writing it on a speech bubble on the inside of the glasses I wear at conventions so that I know what people are saying to me when my mind wanders off. There is a reason it is nicknamed the gateway of yuri.

3. Kase-san and Morning Glories – A simply stunning, beautiful, and realistic story, this OVA movie is unlike any yuri before it. It holds nothing back in its yuri in its realistic depiction of a lesbian relationship. Kase-san is the best anime to come from twenty-gay-teen it just might change the genre forever.

2. Puella Magi Madoka Magica – Speaking of changing a genre, PMMM, my favorite anime of all time, did something truly incredible. Not since sailor moon as such a social phenomenon sprung from a magical girl series. The perfect writing, postmodern use of tropes, philosophy, and just pure awe-inspiring nature of the show has not been forgotten years later. The legacy of such a widely celebrated series is nothing short of god-like.

1. Revolutionary Girl Utena – Was there ever really any doubt? This series defined what yuri is for a generation. It is one of the defining works of LGBT and feminist media and possibly one of the most important pieces to come out of 90′s anime. Yuri, as we know it may not exist, were it not for this legendary series.

Well, that was fun but exhausting. Of course, this list is not perfect and I am sure that you more than disagree with me in a few places and I would love to hear them. Send me an ask, post a reply, tag me on twitter @HolyYuriMother for the love of the great yuri goddess! I want to know what you think, what series do you love? What anime do you hate? What nonsense thing did I say that just deserves to be torn apart? I want to know!

You can check out the original list on Akiba.

Help create yuri and LGBTQ+ news, reviews, and content by supporting YuriMother on Patreon

[dylshoney]

just a crush｛part two｝

a/n: I got so many requests to do a part two, thank you so much to everyone that enjoyed the first one! more to come soon, if you want to be added to the tag list, to be notified whenever a new part comes out, lmk!

warnings: none

You ran through the crowd, your heart beating out of your chest as you grinned widely. You rushed to the platform Andrew had pointed out to you, showing the security guard your pass and climbing down the steps into the pit right in front of the stage.

 Your eyes widened at how well you could see everything, your hands shaking slightly as you adjusted the settings on your camera, ensuring that everything was perfect for ShowTime.

 You gripped your camera tighter, bringing it up to your eyes and beginning to move around as you looked for the best possible angles. You smiled, you were going to take the best damn pictures that boy had seen in his life and prove to him that you deserved this job.

 The lights began to flash, your smile widening as the entire stadium began to scream. You adjusted your lens for a second – your breath catching in your throat as you watched the gorgeous laughing boy run on stage.

 You couldn’t resist watching him for a second – almost forgetting what you were supposed to do – the smile on his face capturing your attention. You blinked, immediately straightening up, trying to snap the best possible shots of his entrance.

 You felt shivers form all over your skin as he began strumming his guitar, the opening notes to ‘There’s nothing holding me back’ filling the room. You couldn’t resist lightly humming along as you moved about in the free space.

 The songs seemed to change rapidly, the concert flying by in a whirlwind of emotions, stunning performances and endless clicks of your camera.

 You were covered in sweat by the end of it, your feet hurting and your throat sore – but you didn’t mind it one bit, you enjoyed every second.

 Watching Shawn get off the stage was a revolutionary experience for you, your heart pounding as you realized that this was now your reality. You would get to see him do this every night.

 “Y/n!” Andrew’s excited shout snapped you out of your thoughts as he beckoned you closer. You tried to ignore the overwhelming shouts of the fans, mostly asking who you were and where Adam, the previous photographer, was.

 “Hey,” you smiled once you reached him.

 “Such a thrill huh?” He asked, noticing the star-struck look on your face. You couldn’t help but nod, your mind still reeling from the adrenaline of watching one of your idols perform.

 “Come on backstage – I’d like it if you got a few pictures during the meet and greets.”

 You followed him through the dark passages, your fingers tightly wrapped around your camera, your ears still pounding from the aftershock of being so close to the speakers.

 “You can wait in here if you want,” Andrew said, taking you into a large area where you recognized some of the crew setting up, “Shawn should be out in a half hour.”

 “Okay, thank you,” you smiled, walking over to one of the couches where you saw Annie, Shawn’s hairstylist, sitting.

 “Hi,” you sat next to her, your camera placed in your lap as she faced you with a smile, “Don’t you look pretty,” she winked, her eyes trailing over your form. 

You blushed, averting your gaze, “I’m sweating like a pig.”

 She laughed loudly, “Perks of chasing Shawn.”

 You nodded, “He just – has so much energy.”

 “You should see him before shows though,” she smiled, “Bit of an emotional wreck.”

 “Huh?” You tilted your head, staring at her in confusion.

 “He just has a bit of anxiety before every performance, something about wanting to make it memorable for people.”

 You were silent as she continued, “If you ask me, he’s putting way too much pressure on himself. People are going to love him no matter what – it’s inevitable.”

 You couldn’t help but agree. There was something about Shawn that made everyone naturally flock to him – his presence was addicting to be around, you realized – your mind replaying some key moments from the show.

 “Hey,” a friendly voice spoke, your head turning to the left to see Charlie, Shawn’s opening act smiling down at you.

 “H – Hi – ”you spluttered, immediately standing up and taking his outstretched hand.

 “I’m Charlie,” he nodded once you pulled away.

 “Y/n. It’s great to meet you.”

 He smiled, “You as well. It’s nice to finally see the young photographer in person.”

 You bit your lip, “Uh – ”

 “Don’t take it the wrong way,” his grin was genuine, “You’re just a lot younger than Adam.”

 “Yeah,” you blushed, suddenly very interested in your shoes.

 “Shawn said you were eighteen,” he asked, your head perking up at his words. Shawn mentioned you? Your gut plummeted as fast as it rose – what if he talked about how awkward your first interaction was?

 You could feel your cheeks heat up involuntarily, “Unfortunately.”

 He smiled, confusion lacing his features, “Unfortunately?”

 “I’m only legal to drink in Europe,” you shrugged, “And I only happened to miss that part of the tour.”

 You grinned as he began laughing, a pretty smile coating his features, “You’re a big partier, I take it?”

 You shook your head, “No idea. Would have been nice to figure it out though.”

 That only made him laugh harder, your chest swelling in happiness as you realized you might have just made your first friend on tour.

 “You excited for the meet and greet?” You asked as the two of you adjusted your positions, moving to sit down on the couch.

 He nodded, his smile fading a bit as he whispered, “Bit nervous, to be honest.”

 “How come?”

 Charlie shrugged, “Don’t get me wrong, fans are like the best thing in my life,” you silently melted at his words, “But it’s just so nerve-wracking to actually see them all in person. I’m worried I’m going to make a fool of myself.”

 You shook your head, “That’s literally impossible. And even if you do – it’ll only make them love you more.”

 He smiled making you continue, “Seriously! They’ll probably find the whole flustered nervous thing cute. Girls are digging the soft boy look these days.”

 He snorted, “Soft boy?”

 “What?” You look back at him in shock, “Have you opened twitter recently? It’s all people are talking about.

 “I’ve never heard of it.”

 “I’m shocked – Shawn’s basically the epitome of soft.”

 “What would it take to make someone hard?”

 You paused for a moment, a teasing grin on your face as he began to realize his words, “I – uh – I meant –”

 “I know what you meant,” you covered your mouth to hide the laughter that was threatening to burst out of you, “Don’t worry.”

“See!” He groaned, “I just made a fool of myself now!”

“No, you made me laugh - there’s a difference,” you smiled, trying to control your giggle.

“Maybe I should rehearse what I’m going to say?”

You shook your head, “They’re going to see right through that, you need to be genuine. Don’t worry, it’ll be amazing, I promise.”

 He nodded, still unconvinced, his eyes traveling to look at something behind you. His gaze returned to you abruptly, “I gotta go – fans are about to start coming in – I’ll talk to you later?”

 You nodded, smiling at him and sending a thumbs up, “Relax, you’ll do great!”

 He placed a hand on his heart teasingly before mouthing a quick thank you and disappearing from behind one of the black curtains – which you guessed would provide the backdrop for the photos.

 You watched the camera crew enter the space – setting up their equipment in record time. They were the real photographer’s whose photos were meant to all look the same – clean-cut and professional. It was their website that would be selling all the meet and greet photos later.

 You were almost jealous of them for a second – their job seemed almost perfect. All they had to do was set up the tripod in a position and tell Shawn and the fans how to pose. You, on the other hand, were tasked with a bit more creative task. It was your job to take pictures of the photo- ops from different angles, playing around with the lighting and posing to make everything look candid yet professional. You knew that you would definitely be up half the night editing whatever photos Andrew approved – which would later get sent to Shawn – giving him something to post on his Instagram.

  He seemed to enjoy the aesthetic shots, you noticed once when you were stalking his profile, before you had even gotten the job. He loved black and white – the backstage pictures – the ones with raw emotion, unaware that a camera was on him.

 That was probably why you were chosen to be his photographer; it was your exceptional skill to catch people in their most raw, beautiful, unfiltered form. It was your favorite thing to see someone through the lens and snap a photo – capturing the essence of a special moment, and saving it forever.

 You snapped out of your thoughts as Annie tapped you on the arm. You were quick to stand up and follow the older girl to the middle of the room, where the barricade was set up.

 “Annie!” You spun around at the sound of the breathless voice, your eyes practically jumping out of their sockets as Shawn walked over to her, his cheeks red and hair still wet – presumably from the shower he had just taken.

 “Sit,” Annie’s voice was rushed as she led him to the table where some of her products were scattered, “You should have been here fifteen minutes ago.”

 He coughed, his eyes trailing up to look at you through the mirror. You blushed at the intensity of his gaze, immediately looking away from him and to your feet.

 “Shawn,” Annie groaned, not happy that he was ignoring her.

 “Sorry,” his voice was hoarse.

 “You can’t keep doing this, people have been waiting for over an hour,” Annie’s voice was lost as she turned on the hairdryer, beginning to style Shawn’s hair. You sighed before looking back up to see Shawn already focused on you, he didn’t seem embarrassed to be caught staring – in fact, a small smile adorned his lips.

 You could feel your cheeks catch fire as you attempted to smile back, before stepping away and turning around, as you pretended to fiddle with your camera.

 “Shawn!” Andrew’s hurried tone snapped everyone’s attention to him, “We’re letting everyone in – in ten minutes.”

 Shawn nodded in response, shutting his eyes as he slowly ran a hand through his freshly dried hair. You could feel your breath catch in your throat as you watched him, transfixed on the way his long fingers moved through the locks. You found yourself wondering how soft his hair was, what it would feel like to run your fingers through it.

 “Y/n,” you felt a hand lightly touch your back as you turned to face the sound, Charlie’s grinning face staring down at you, “Could you snap a picture of me with these roses?”

 You didn’t hesitate to nod, “Course, where do you wanna do it?”

 You were happy for the distraction, your mind momentarily forgetting Shawn and the way his eyes on you made you feel.

 “Place them to your nose,” you giggled as you watched Charlie mess around in front of the painted brick wall you had chosen for your backdrop.

 You watched him obey you, his face growing serious as he posed, in what you assumed was supposed to be sexy.

 “You look like you want to eat the camera,” you laughed, as you began snapping pictures, your words brought a small chuckle out of him – his eyes shutting and a wide grin adorning his face. You snapped the picture without a second thought, bringing your camera away from your face to look at the finished product.

 You smiled as your eyes settled on the last picture, he looked genuinely happy, “This one’s –”

 “Perfect.”

 Your words caught in your throat, your body tensing as you recognized the voice that had spoken behind you. You were quick to turn around, your eyes widening as they focused on the larger figure, “I – thank you.”

 He smiled, his eyes not leaving yours as he extended his hand, taking your camera.

 “I have to say I’m a bit jealous,” he spoke, beginning to look through the photos you had snapped of Charlie, “I thought you were my photographer.”

 You swallowed, “I – uh,”

 “C’mon Mendes,” Charlie laughed, walking up to stand next to you, “I had to take advantage of all this talent.”

 You blushed as he turned his head to wink at you, before walking away – presumably to place the roses back where he found them. Shawn seemed to not have heard his words, either that or he was ignoring them – his mouth was opened slightly, eyes narrowed as he brought the camera closer to examine whatever photo he was looking at.

 You could feel your heart drop into your stomach at the look on his face, you couldn’t recognize if it was good or bad, “I uh – didn’t know what kind of angles you like – so I kinda tried all of them. If you don’t like it I can –”

 You cut yourself off as his gaze snapped up to yours, an unreadable expression on his face, “These pictures are stunning.”

 You blinked, your mind registering his words as an involuntarily grin escaped you, “Thank you.”

 He stepped closer to you, coming to stand to your left. He brought the camera between you, leaning closer so he could show you, “This one – it’s – just wow.”

 He stuttered for a moment, your mind blanking as his arm grazed yours, “H –how did you do this?”

 “The highlight on you?” You tilted your head as your eyes left the camera and traveled to his face. He nodded, running his tongue over his lips as he looked back at you.

 “I – I,” you swallowed, trying to calm your breaths, “I followed the pattern of lights, waiting for the right one.”

 He chuckled, “You make it sound easy.”

 “It was,” you shrugged, a surge of confidence waving through you at the sensation of his eyes trained solely on you, “I had a good subject.”

 He laughed again, his eyes crinkling as he straightened up, leaning away from you, “I suppose you did,” his eyes traveled behind you, nodding at something, “I should go.”

 You nodded, taking your camera back. He turned back to you for a second, “I wanted to apologize again, I’m sorry for mistaking you as a fan.”

 “No worries,” you shook your head, “And I didn’t lie. I am a fan – you weren’t too far off.”

 You bit your lip at the look on his face, his head tilted down as a sheepish expression spread over him, color filling his already rosy cheeks.

 “That – uh- means a lot, thank you.” He said, eyes not meeting yours. You tilted your head with a smile, confused at his sudden shyness. You were tempted to ask him about it, but when your eyes locked on a frazzled Andrew you sighed, “You should head to the curtain – Andrew doesn’t look too pleased.”

 He nodded, turning his head to look at Andrew before quickly looking back at you, “Where will you be?”

 You blinked, taken aback by the question, a small smile spreading over you, “Around,” you winked, bringing up your camera, “Now go have fun – I like pictures with you smiling in them.”

 He smiled, dipping his head; “I’ll see you later?”

 You nodded, “Later.”

 You watched him walk away, his body disappearing behind the black curtain. Holy shit. You released a shaky breath, why the hell would you tell him you liked pictures of him smiling? You shut your eyes for a moment, you probably sounded like a psycho. He didn’t care what kind of pictures you liked, only that you took them.

 You bit your lip as you walked to stand behind the large camera, you adjusted your camera for a moment – trying to forget your embarrassment and calm your breathing.

 “Y/n?” You looked over at Andrew, “Don’t worry about taking pictures of everyone he meets, just try to find a few good angles and then you can go get food – you’ve done amazing today.”

 You couldn’t resist the smile, “Thank you, Andrew.”

 “Anytime,” he nodded, “Shawn just told me about the pictures he saw. I’ve never seen him that impressed with anything.”

 You tiled your head, your eyes widening, as Andrew continued, “He seems really happy with you, you don’t know how much that means to me – after Adam … ”

 You were tempted to ask what had happened with the mysterious Adam, but you knew better than to pry in things that didn’t concern you.

 “That’s – I’m – That means a lot,” you finally managed to say.

 He smiled, his eyes traveling to the opening doors to your left, a line of screaming on the outside as the first one walked inside. You smiled at the crying girl, she looked to be a lot younger than you, her wide eyes taking everything in.

 You brought your camera up to your eyes, the lens trained on her. Your breath caught in your throat at the expression on her face as she laid her eyes on Shawn for the first time as he walked out from behind the curtain.

 You snapped the picture, watching her walk up and practically jump in his arms, shaking as he hugged her. He said something in her ear that made her cry harder, your camera snapping another picture of the emotional exchange.

 She separated from him, his face flushed as they stood side by side. He put a hand over her shoulder as they both put up a peace sign. You narrowed your eyes at his close-mouthed smile – a guarded look on his face, bringing your camera down to get a closer look at him.

 The second your camera was no longer obstructing your face, his eyes found yours, widening as he saw how close you were. He looked at your camera for a second, before a wide – exaggerated grin spread over his face, winking at the change in your expression.

 You rolled your eyes with a grin, bringing your camera up to snap another picture, happy that this time he was smiling – even if it was only for your sake.

*

Later that night you were up past two am, which was strictly against Andrew’s orders. He had informed everyone that you were to get up early the next morning so that Shawn could participate in some of the interviews in Vancouver, the next stop on the tour.

 You rubbed your eyes as you shut your laptop and took it off your lap. You had been editing for the past few hours, even though Andrew told you that the pictures didn’t need to be done so soon.

 You were a perfectionist, however, and wanted Shawn to post the pictures of Portland while still in Portland. There was something about seeing your images lining his feed that made you work harder than ever.

 You yawned, sitting up in your bunk before quietly jumping out of it. You hazily walked through the bunks, heading toward the kitchen.

 You looked up at the curtain that separated the bunks from the living area, your eyes widening at the flashing lights that peaked through. You were tempted to turn back and head to your bunk, but your throat was far too dry to go to bed.

 Your hand grabbed the curtain before you could talk yourself out of leaving and opened it, your eyes flickering as they tried to adjust to the brightness of the room.

 Your gaze focused on a figure that was lying on the couch, watching what you recognized as ‘Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets’.

 “Shawn?” You said softly.

 He flinched at the sound of your voice, “Y/n?” He sat up quickly on the sofa, turning so he could look at you, a small smile on his face, “What are you doing up?”

 You grabbed a glass out of one of the cupboards, filling it with water and leaning on the counter as you watched him, “Was editing some pictures, you?”

 “Couldn’t sleep,” He shrugged, his smile fading as he looked down.

 “Everything okay?”

 He cleared his throat, “Yeah – I just – I miss home, I guess.”

 You felt an unrecognizable emotion rock through you as you listened to him, “I love touring, don’t get me wrong, I just – ” He trailed off, fidgeting with the frayed edges of his blanket.

 You bit your lip, trying to think of something to say, “I understand. I’ve been gone for barely two days and I’m already homesick.”

 He chuckled, the sound surprising him as he swung his feet off the bed, moving the blanket as he looked at you with a smile, “You wanna sit?”

 “Sure, thanks,” you sat on the couch, placing your cup on the coffee table as you faced the TV, unsure what to say next.

 “Harry Potter huh?” You regretted the words as soon as they left your mouth, but Shawn didn’t seem to notice, his face lighting up, “Yeah – have you seen it?”

 “I went through a pretty intense Harry Potter phase, I think I’ve seen all the movies about fifty times each.”

 He began to smile even wider, “Which one’s your favorite?”

 “Oh my God.” You groaned, “There’s no way I can choose.”

 “Good answer.”

 You grinned, turning your body so you were facing him completely, “What’s your house?”

 “Gryffindor,” he said without hesitation.

 “Really? I would have guessed Hufflepuff.”

 He groaned, “Oh God, that’s what everyone says.”

 “What’s wrong with Hufflepuff?”

 “Nothing – just a bit boring is all.”

 Your smile faded as you gasped, “You did not just say that.”

 “What are you gonna do about it, eh?” He winked, but you were far too insulted to think about it right then, “Don’t tell me you’re also one of those people that thinks all Slytherins are evil.”

 “Guilty,” he shrugged.

 “That’s the worst kind of fan!”

 “What do you mean?”

 “You only like Gryffindor cause that’s the main character’s house.”

 “What’s your house then?” Shawn smirked, leaning closer to you, his leg brushing yours.

 “Hufflepuff.”

 He blinked, straightening up, as he looked over at you, “No way.”

 “What?” You smiled, brushing your hair behind your ear.

 “Didn’t peg you as the type.”

 You smirked, “Not boring enough for you?”

 “W- What? No!” He shook his head, “Now you’re making me sound like an asshole!”

 “Hufflepuff haters are assholes.”

 “I’m not a Hufflepuff hater!” He gasped, placing his hand on his heart in mock hurt.

 You hummed, a teasing smile on your face as he pouted next to you.

 “I’m not,” he mumbled again, making you start giggling softly, covering your face as you turned away from him.

 You heard him huff, before the sofa dipped as he began adjusting himself, stretching his legs until they were practically on your lap.

 “Excuse me,” you gestured to his legs, your eyebrows raised.

 “I’m not gonna sit here and let you call me a Hufflepuff hater – that’s – it’s unacceptable.”

 “So why – ?” You laughed, pointing to his legs as a cheeky smile spread across his face.

 “I’m going to pretend you’re not here and enjoy my movie.”

 You gasped – it sounded like a mix between a laugh and like you were chocking – and lightly nudged his shoulder. This only made him laugh, and begin moving around until his legs were completely on your lap.

 “Wow,” you crossed your arms, sinking back into the couch, but making no move to remove his legs from you.

 You were both silent for a few minutes – your mind focused on Hermione getting petrified, until you felt a nudge on your shoulder again, making you turn and face Shawn.

 “Why are you a Hufflepuff?”

 You opened your mouth, confusion lacing your features, “What?”

 “Like – what characteristics make you a Hufflepuff?”

 “Oh,” you paused for a moment, never before answering that question, “I guess I’m loyal and friendly – that’s probably it, but my friends say that I could be a Slytherin as well, so I guess it depends.”

 He didn’t respond, processing your words for a few moments before a small smile spread over his face, “So you’re kind but evil?”

 You groaned again, “Stop saying that they’re evil!”

 He raised his hands in mock surrender, “They all served Voldemort!”

 “Most of them were too young to know better!”

 He shook his head with a smile, obviously enjoying getting a rise out of you, “Not too sure about that.”

 You rolled your eyes, “They’re cunning and ambitious – doesn’t sound evil to me.”

 “You don’t need to defend the fact that you’re half evil, y/n.” He laughed, throwing his head back, “I’m not going to fire you.”

 “You don’t get to decide that,” you winked, “I technically work for Andrew.”

 He gasped, his face immediately serious, as he pretended to be offended, “Ouch.”

 “Shush,” you nudged his shoulder, “You thought I was a fan – I’m glad you don’t control my paycheck.”

 “Hey,” he groaned, “I thought we were over that.”

 You laughed, “We are, doesn’t change the fact that Andrew treats me better.”

 “I’m letting you watch Harry Potter with me!”

 “You’re insulting my house!” Your laughter was growing, and soon it was getting hard to breath, you were practically hiccupping as you tried to contain your breaths.

 It took you a minute to realize that Shawn was no longer laughing but was instead watching you with a small smile on his face.

 You tried to contain your giggles, holding your stomach as it was beginning to cramp, “What?”

 “Nothing,” He shook his head, the grin never leaving his face, “Just good to have a friend I can talk to about Harry Potter.”

 You calmed down at his words, your mouth set in a small o, “I agree.”

 You turned back to the TV screen, hoping that he didn’t recognize the color in your cheeks, pretending to watch the movie.

 “Y/n?” He asked after a few seconds, making you hum in response.

 “Our next show is in Vancouver and I haven’t been skating in forever.”

 You nodded, looking at him, a bit confused as to where he was going with this, “And I really want to go – but Andrew isn’t going to let me without a reason, so – uh – could you please tell him you think a few shots of me skating would be beneficial …” He trailed off.

 You bit your lip, “Yeah – uh – Andrew told me it’d be good to get a few pictures of you enjoying the cities.”

 “Thank you,” his smile was so wide that you felt like you were going to melt, “You’re slowly becoming one of my favorite people on this tour.”

 You rolled your eyes with a smile; “I already said yes, you don’t need to butter me up more.”

 He laughed, “I’m not! It’s good to have someone my age around.”

 You were tempted to ask about Geoff since you hadn’t seen him around, but knew it was probably creepy to know about Shawn’s best friends.

 “You’re different than I expected,” you said instead.

 “Really?” He smiled, making you nod in response, “Yeah – to be completely honest I thought you’d never talk to me – that I’d just take pictures and then edit them alone, Mason was worried I wouldn’t make any friends.”

 “Mason?” He tilted his head.

 “My brother,” you smiled.

 “Oh,” he nodded, “Well I’m glad to be different than you thought.”

 You nodded, biting your lip as you turned back to face the TV, the intensity of his gaze hard for you to concentrate.

 “It’s 3am,” he mumbled, making you look up at the clock on the wall.

 “Should probably get to bed then,” you nodded.

 Shawn coughed, slowly removing his legs from your lap, and sitting up. You stood, stretching your back for a moment before looking up at him as he stood as well.

 “Night Shawn,” you smiled, taking your glass and placing it in the sink.

 “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he nodded, stretching his arms behind his back – his t-shirt riding up to uncover a small section of his lower stomach, your eyes immediately shutting as you turned away, so he wouldn’t catch the blush coating your cheeks.

 “See you,” you mumbled, disappearing behind the curtain before he could say anything else that could make your heart beat faster.

 tag list: @egg-in-a-spork @tw-stydiaaf @countingstarsmylove  @alone-in-madness  

[eloquent-music]

THE POSITIVE & NEGATIVE: MUN & MUSE

Fill out & Repost ♥ This meme definitely favors Canons more, but I hope OC’s still can make it somehow work with their own lore and Lil’ fandom of friends & mutuals. Multimuses pick the muse you are the most invested in atm.

Tagged by: @polyhexianchicken​

Tagging: anyone who wants to do it!! Just go ahead and say I tagged you

> Putting under a read more bc of the length <

MY MUSE IS.   canon / oc / au / canon-divergent / fandomless

* is your character popular in the fandom? YES/NO

* is your character considered hot™ in the fandom?  YES (from what i see from a lot of people in the fandom including myself)/ NO / IDK.

* is your character considered strong in the fandom?  YES / NO / IDK.

* are they underrated?  YES ( I believe there’s more depth to him that some don’t see) / NO.

* were they relevant to the main story?  YES (Sorta?) / NO.

* were they relevant to the main character?  YES (Kinda sorta esp to Megatron) / NO

* are they widely known in their world?  YES / NO.

* how’s their reputation?  GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL.

HOW STRICTLY DO YOU FOLLOW CANON?

I try my best to follow canon as best as possible. I do put in my own twists here and there.  I have added things into his character have been shared later on through Tweets on Twitter from Jro and Milne. I take their portrayals and incorporate them into my Tarn. For example, Milne said that Tarn was Pharma’s new lover and they had a special relationship and since I’m weak for that pairing I really wanted to incorporate that in. Also Red doesn’t help we both feed into each other ilu <3  ALL IN ALL though, I do like to keep him canon and not too much off character to where he isn’t Tarn anymore. I want him to be Tarn not someone else

SELL YOUR MUSE! (aka try to list everything, which makes your muse interesting in your opinion to make them spicy for your mutual.)

I could sell Tarn for hours and a few friends know this very personally. IM SORRY. ANYWAYS. Some may find what I love about Tarn to not what they like but it’s my opinion on him! So here goes.

I love his damaged nature (I’m sorry Tarn muse). I find his addictions interesting, even though they weren’t technically shown in the issues. It’s part of who he is from who he used to be (however they came about). I will always love his flaws and I enjoy showing those sides of him so be aware that I will show his addictive personality (through Transformation, Nuke abuse, and murderous tendencies).

Which brings me to... His murderous/torturous nature. We see killers a dime a dozen in the series but to be a leader of a torturous group? Like that’s pretty rad and completely different from a lot of other characters. Can you tell I like the baddies? sdifhoisdf This brings up this ONE side of him. He doesn’t like killing / taking part in the demises of SOME of their victims. Why? I think I may know the answer to that. Why does a mech like him want to advert his gaze while the others have their way with them. Talk about something deep we never got to understand that.

He has a soft spot for musical pieces, especially classical piano music. I love Chopin the most, so you’ll see me post that all the time!

He apparently loves pineapples and just I LOVE THAT SO MUCH UHG.

He’s a big tank with Daddy (Megatron) Issues! You gotta love it LOL  He’s got biolights literally everywhere. FLASHY

When he’s only around his team, he can be a little bit more calm even though he can drop it at the drop of a dime.

He’s a touch starved mech odifhsodif

NOW THE OPPOSITE! (list everything why your muse could not be so interesting (even if you may not agree, what does the fandom perhaps think?)

Even though I kinda sold him on this I thought I should mention it here too. I don’t think people find him interesting for how dark he is as a mech. Push aside everything and look at how purely evil he can be. He’s cruel. He’s torturous and very sadistic. He will thrive off of every little bit of pain you give him. He can be manipulative at times.

Tarn is a huge hypocrite. It shows so much throughout the comic issues if you really look at it. I show it a lot (he will deny it sometimes but don’t worry I know he’s one) Probably one of the biggest hypocrites in the whole 2005 IDW Series.

Tarn is easily-influenced and persuaded by certain situations (to not look weak) and mechs.

He is very easily angered from the smallest things.

He holds onto grudges

WHAT INSPIRED YOU TO RP YOUR MUSE?

I know I’ve been asked this before and when I’m asked again I forget the GOOD reasons why I was so inspired to write him so I hope i do okay this time around. Even though I know I will leave out the good shit. Idk why I just dont draft on what truly inspired me. Just watch, itll come a day later and I’ll add it in just wait and see

I started rp’ing him on here as soon as he debuted in the MTMTE series (i think it was back in 2013 or 2012?) I did kind of poof for a few years due to being so busy sdiufhs. Anyways, I fell instantly in love with his character. I loved his dark ways and how he was so drastically different of a villain. His musical tendencies. And how he could offline a mech with ONLY his voice? Like damn sing to me all day you Musical Angel. He is dark and mysterious. NOT TO MENTION, black and purple my favorite colors.

His design was flawless and MTMTE #7 sold me on who he was and from then on I just couldn’t stop loving this murderous tank. I love how Jro and Milne have come out later on to answer more questions about him and just I love him that much more. Looking back years later on it, I see a little bit of myself in him.  

WHAT KEEPS YOUR INSPIRATION

He’s pretty easy to flow out honestly. Just like my other muse I have. If he does struggle some, I just pop on some Chopin and he’s good to go. What really does keep me going more than anything is continuously exploring who he is as a mech and as a Decepticon. I want to know so much about him literally everything. Even though I could write headcanons all day and drabbles too, I love making him interact with others to find that personality.  It’s really just my never-ending curiosity for him.

SOME MORE PERSONAL QUESTIONS FOR THE MUN.

* do you think you give your character justice?  YES / NO. ( i hope I do! )

* do you frequently write headcanons?  YES / NO.

* do you sometimes write drabbles? YES / NO.  ( i love writing drabbles!!!)

* do you think a lot about your muse during the day? YES / NO.

* are you confident in your portrayal?   YES / NO.

* are you confident in your writing?  YES / NO. (Most of the time, I know sometimes I mess up and its honestly just me not seeing it for whatever reason. Im so sorry if my replies come through scattered sidfhfs)

* are you a sensitive person?  YES / NO. (Not really at all. I don’t get offended or anything but certain things can bug me)

DO YOU ACCEPT CRITICISM WELL ABOUT YOUR PORTRAYAL?

Only if its constructive criticism. I love it when friends bounce ideas or talk to me about him. I will take into consideration of changing him slightly from only my close friends and that’s because we’re close. I will not change my character for anyone because they don’t like how I portray him because he is my portrayal of him, not yours.

DO YOU LIKE QUESTIONS, WHICH HELP YOU EXPLORE YOUR CHARACTER?  

I love all the questions you all send him, either on anon or not. Even the most awful ones! Tarn may not like them but most I find absolutely hilarious. I think the more personal questions really help for exploring who he is or if I post drabble prompts, go ahead and send me one! Even if I dont send in one and you wanna know more about him I will try my best to respond to it.

IF SOMEONE DISAGREES TO A HEADCANON OF YOURS, DO YOU WANT TO KNOW WHY?  

This is a hit or miss question. I don’t really want to exactly know why unless if I ask you personally on it (which is usually just between close friends because sometimes I just aint thinkin straight). I don’t mind bouncing off ideas but ishdfoisdfh i really truly don’t know the answer to this one

IF SOMEONE REALLY HATES YOUR CHARACTER, HOW DO YOU TAKE IT?

I honestly don’t care. People won’t like every character out there and that’s just part of being human. I understand why people would hate his character in the series in all honesty. But I love him for all his flaws.

I don’t blame people for hating Tarn but I do not want hate sent to me. That is unacceptable and not okay. You don’t have to like my portrayal but please don’t shove it at me that’s just uncalled for. If your character hates him that’s totally different but don’t come attacking me for any reason.

DO YOU THINK YOU ARE EASY GOING AS A MUN?  

I think I am. I’m usually fairly quiet. But once you get to know me, I am kinda strong on the goofy/funny side and a bit blunt/straight-forward sdoifhodsf. I tend to be really easy going and laid back. My personality has drastically changed since I’ve gotten into my mid-20s. I don’t like drama and dont wanna be apart of it.

[canumoveurseatup-no]

Rot (Myself pt. 2)

Summary: It's easy to say you're over someone if you aren't seeing them. The challenge is to look them in the eye and see their smile and hear their voice and still be able to say "this is not what I want anymore"

Pairing: Doctor Strange x Black!Reader, Steve Rogers x Black!Reader

Warnings: Call me the Queen of angst becaaauuuuuuse that's what this is, some fluff, manipulative Steve (again, not condoning it or anything, just coping from my own recent experience), descriptions of an anxiety attack, some quotes from twitter

Word Count: 6k

PLEASE READ A/N: If you asked for a part two/ asked to be tagged in this or permanent tags PLEASE LEAVE VERBAL FEEDBACK! Likes are nice and I don't wanna sound unappreciative but I'd like to know what you guys are thinking and that all the time I spend writing this for you guys and all the mental breakdowns I had is worth something, thank yooou <3

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

-Flashback-

"And the cute waitress sitting beside me. What's her specialty?"

You giggled at his compliment. It was good to hear a compliment from a man who didn't creep you out.

"I do this thing that's unheard of around these parts of New York," you whisper.

"Oh yeah? and what's that?," he leaned in and whispered right back, entertaining your game of secrecy.

"I heard only the well raised ones know what it is. But I clean up after people who are too much of simpleton slobs to do it themselves," you snorted and he shook his head as you before laughing along at your slightly terrible joke.

"Well, I certainly won't be adding to your list of simpleton slobs," he smirked at you and took another bite of his pie.

"What list will you be adding to then?," you took another sip of your cup and eyed him over the rim.

"Hopefully the list that makes the cut of being able to take you out,"

His boldness made droplets of your milk slip out of your mouth as you damn near choked.

"Me?!," you looked around and eyed the diner, seeing if he was possibly talking to someone else.

"Yes, you, Miss? Miss, right? No Mrs?,"

You giggled at his uncertainty.

"Y/N, and yes, Miss. No Mrs, not even close. And who might you be, mister mysterious?,"

He turned to you fully in his chair before extending his hand.

"Strange. Dr. Stephen Strange and I would like to take you, Miss Y/N, out on a date."

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

It'd been another three months since that night in the diner with Stephen. He took you on many public dates the first month and a half of you guys getting to know each other. You were upfront and him that you did indeed have baggage, but that didn't seem to scare him off though. You told Stephen about the one relationship you were in before this, you told him about how good things were at first and then things had went to shit. You talked about how you were afraid of that happening again and how you wanted to take things slow because you were enjoying Stephen's company, you wanted this to work.

Starting over was scary, you had to allow someone new to get to know you all over again. You had to let them see the darkest parts of you all over again, you had to allow someone to see you naked on more than just a physical level, but with Stephen it was natural. He'd explained to you how he was in a dark place as well before he got to where he was now. He was in a bad accident that tested his faith but he was able to overcome it.

He trusted you enough to let you know what he really did now, it was a beautiful thing. He even told you once things became more serious between the two of you he would take you under his wing to teach you. Your boyfriend is a Master of the Mystics Arts, how the hell did that happen? But he told you your soul and intentions are pure, you're a person who has struggled and still struggles which makes you the perfect student, because you believe and want to heal.

He was a breath of fresh air and you felt safe around him. He never made fun of you when you just wanted to sit in his study with him as he worked with Wong when you felt lonely and just wanted to be around him, he never for once made you feel lesser than him, you were his equal and he made sure to build you up every chance he could. His communication skills? They were liberating, you never hesitated to talk to him about things and vice versa.

It'd only been three and a half months and although you didn't want to jinx it, you could see this becoming a healthy long term thing. That might just be the hopeless romantic in you talking, but something you've learned over the course of you getting over Steve was this- Love isn't dangerous. Love is pure, love is patient, love is beautiful, love is gentle. No way is love dangerous, yeah the person you could be in love with could be dangerous, but love itself is not dangerous.

It took you a while to understand that, especially with tip toeing around your relationship with Stephen at first but that man was love personified to you. Sure you were still taking things slow but in the back of your mind you could see yourself loving this man.

You and Wong walked in the front door and you could hear Stephen moving around in the kitchen.

"Sweetheart, come try this," Stephen called out to you. Two and a half months in, you told him you were comfortable enough to have dates in his home and your own. You spent more nights here now, especially since the diner you worked at was closer to here than your apartment. He would even come in an hour before your shift ended to wait for you so you guys could walk back to his place together. But today Wong was there, he told you Stephen couldn't be the one to meet you today due to a little surprise he was setting up for you.

You walked into the kitchen to see him stirring something in a big pot with a wooden ladle.

He waited for you with a big smirk on his face and a ridiculous apron.

"Wait, close your eyes first!," He scrambled to drop the spoon and rushed over to you to cover your eyes, "Pinch your nose, I don't want you to smell it yet, you'll know what it is,"

You laughed, played along with his game and pinched your nostrils closed. He lead you over to the pot and you felt him take his hands off your eyes.

"Keep your eyes closed," He sounded way too excited.

"Are you trying to poison me, Stephen?," you jokingly taunted

"I sure hope not," his laugh was hearty and you felt yourself smirking at the wonderful sound.

"Okay, open your mouth, once I put it in your mouth you can let go of your nose,"

"Oouu you're nasty," you teased.

"Y/N!," he playfully scolded you.

"Ookay, okaaaay,"

You opened your mouth and felt the wooden spoon touch your lips. The warm liquid touched your tongue and you removed your hold on your nose to properly taste it. A gasp left your lips and your eyes flew open and you looked in the pot.

"Black bean soup!!," you smiled so big at the pot and Stephen was looking so proud, "It's so good! How did you know I love it?,"

He went back to stirring the soup in the pot, "Like a month ago I heard you and your coworker talking about how you loved it yet just never have the time to make it yourself anymore. I didn't want to take you out to get some because you always said things that are made at home taste better. So I waited until you were comfortable enough to be here with me to finally make it while we have a night in. I'm always listening to you to know what you like and don't like. I try to pay attention as much as I can,"

Your jaw was practically on the floor. He was a total sweetheart despite his know-it-all persona. You almost cried over a pot of soup!

"Stepheeeen," you whined and brought your hands to cover your mouth.

He looked at you with a worried expression, "Oh God, did I screw up?,"

You shake your head and move to hug him tightly, "No, that's just so damn sweet, no one has ever done this for me. It may seem silly and small since it's just soup but that really means a lot,"

You kissed his cheek and he did his best to hide the smile growing on his face because of it.

"When it comes to how you feel, nothing is small or silly to me, Y/N. You know that," He planted a kiss on your forehead and turned to get some bowls for you guys while taking the bread out of the oven.

"I know, I- I just-,"

"You don't want to feel like you're overwhelming me with what you feel?," He looked over his shoulder at you and you dropped your head a little while giving a guilty nod.

He took his apron off and placed in on the counter as he walked back over to you to hold your face in his hands.

"You will never overwhelm me with what you're feeling, Y/N. If this is going to work then of course I'm going to have to understand you and work with you. I'm always willing to do that. Every step and ounce of effort counts. I'm not going to dismiss you like Mr. What-a-Douche. Relationships aren't always easy, you put in work to make it when you care about each other and Y/N, I care,"

You were about to cry like a baby but didn't feel like looking a mess before dinner.

"And I care about you mister mysterious," You held your hands against his and leaned to the side, embracing his hold. That nickname has always stuck from then until now.

Planting a soft kiss on your lips, he pulled away and started making your bowls.

"Wong helped before he left to get me, didn't he?,"

"How'd you know?,"

"Because you told me you weren't the best at cooking. You told me how Wong won't eat if you cook," you laughed at the mental recall of that story.

"Yeah he said he would not allow me to kill you like I've killed him each time I've forced him to eat my dishes," chuckling as he had both bowls in his hand and softly jerked his head to the table, "Sit,"

He brought you your bowl and set it down in front you with a napkin. He set his bowl down and jogged back into the kitchen before coming back with a cutting board of bread and your drinks.

"You even made the olive oil and herb dip for the bread!," you gushed at all the strings he pulled for this simple night in, "This is so much better than dining out,"

"I'm glad you think so,"

You said your grace and hummed at the first full spoonful of soup into your mouth.

"So... I have a question," he cut the bread and dipped it into the dip and raised an eyebrow at you as he took a bite.

"Uh oh," cheeks full, you frowned.

"Someone I know is having some party next week and I want you to be my plus one. They said I need to get out more and I figured since we have each other... why not go with you," he shrugged shyly.

"You didn't tell me you had friends!," you shrieked at him

"Would hardly call it friends. Just acquaintances that call each other for help in dire need," he waved his hand and you shrugged your shoulders. You could use a night out all dolled up.

"Sure, why not? We could both use some socializing. I haven't gotten out much, this could be good," you smiled at the idea of finally meeting his 'friends' other than Wong.

"Can you wear that forest green dress? I love you in that color,"

You smirked at the memory of the first time you wore that dress on a date with him, he gawked at you the whole night and couldn't stop complimenting you.

"As long as you wear those nice dress pants that make your ass look phenomenal,"

"You've got yourself a deal,"

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

*Next Week*

It was a slow day at work and you, along with your coworker, Melanie, were just absentmindedly wiping the counters.

"It doesn't weird you out any?," Mel randomly questioned you.

"What doesn't?" looking around the dinner to see if there was any inkling of a mess you had to clean up.

"Ya know..." she trailed off, "His name is Stephen... your ex's name is Steve," she was waving her hands trying to get her point across.

"It took you three and a half months to ask me that?," you scoffed at her, "It was weird at first but I don't associate the two. Two completely different men, the only thing even remotely similar is their names. Stephen is a wonderful light, he isn't even just a new chapter in my life, he's a whole completely different novel. Steve was just... A bad rough draft. Plus I'm over him, Mel,"

Now it was her turn to scoff at you, "Yeah, because you haven't seen him in seven months,"

"What does that have to do with anything?," you were lost at what she was trying to say.

"It's easy for you to say you're over him because you haven't seen him but I bet if he were to walk through that door right now and ask for another chance you'd be conflicted about what to do,"

You scrunched your face up at her and shook your head quickly, "Absolutely not. What I have with Stephen is great. He listens to me, I listen to him. We care about each other's well being and safety. We take the time to learn each other so we can make it work. Maybe Steve was right, we rushed things. He might have been my first love, who knows, but I'm over that,"

"Mmmm I dunno," she sang, "You know what they say, 'Your first love is the one that sticks with you because it's the only person who will receive all of you.' or maybe that one quote that's like 'No matter what you say, you will never forget your first love', oh! there's another one that goes 'But one always returns to one's first love' and let's not forget my favorite one, 'Love happens only once, and the second time is always a compromise made to forget the first love'. You can say you're over him all you want but what you really need to do is be able to look him in his eyes and say 'this is not what I want anymore'," she raised her eyebrows at you and turned to skate to the coffee machine to make herself a cup

"Enough, Mel!," you whisper yell at her, "Wanna know what quote I like?,"

"Shoot," she smiled

"Sure first loves might never die, but true love can bury it alive," your nostrils flare, "Sure Steve was first but Steve was not true, now let's drop it. Stephen will be on his way before we have to get ready and go to this party," 

"You hated going to parties with Steve," she points out

"Is this Steve, Mel?" you had no idea why she was so hell bent on Steve right now, "Steve would drag me along just to ignore me and make me feel bad about myself. This isn't that. Now, would you please let any memories you have of Steve and I rot please?,"

She huffed and shrugged, "I'm just making sure you're not putting on a front for this guy,"

"I am fine. Not once has he made feel inadequate. He makes me feel special, Mel. Be happy for me,"

"I am. I just want you to be safe and make sure this is the right choice,"

"Leaving Steve was the most correct choice I've made for myself thus far,"

As you turned away from her, you see Stephen walk in and wave to you. You looked at the clock and rushed to clock out. You were excited to spend the night with him and finally get to know other people that he knew.

Your grabbed your coat, phone, wallet and rushed to give him a kiss on his cheek which he so cutely leaned down so you could reach him.

"You ready? You can still change your mind,"

You shook your head and grabbed his hand as you started to skate out the door, "No, I wanna go with you. We could use a change of environment, y'know,"

He placed his other hand in his pocket and smiled you, "You're right,"

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

"Stephen, aren't you going to get dressed?" You peaked your head out the bathroom door and saw him just sitting down. Your hair was slicked up in a sleek big puff and you were just finishing your make up.

"I've learned not to get ready until you spritz that stuff on your face because that means you're really ready,"

You threw your head back in laughter, "I do not take that long to get ready,"

"It's a sin to lie,"

You chuckle and roll your eyes at him, you apply your mascara, dust off your baking powder, add layer of lip gloss and spray your setting spray on your face, then perfume on your neck and wrists.

You admired yourself in the mirror and adored what was showing. You were glowing and not just because of the highlighter you were wearing, but because you were happier and you were in a healthy state of mind. You remember all those months ago when you would stare at yourself in the mirror, analyzing everything and hating it. Now here you were appreciating all of it.

You stepped out of the bathroom and saw Stephen had already finished getting ready. He turned around to look at you and he could have sworn it was like the first time seeing you all over again, just as beautiful. Everything happened in slow motion as he looked at you from bottom to top.

Your dress was a fitted dress that was off the shoulders and a beautiful velvet forest green with a good V that showed just a bit of cleavage. Sitting right in perfect placement of your slightly exposed cleavage, was a necklace he got you that you wore faithfully since the day he gave it to you. Your dress reached right above your knee, the rest of your legs glistening and smooth. Your pumps, just like your dress, but the green was so dark they were almost black, they were open toed and showed off your white toe nail polish. You were just so damn beautiful and he was so glad he got the courage three months ago to ask you out.

"Stephen, you're staring," you brought him out of his thoughts.

"Sorry, sweetheart, y-you just look great,"

You felt your face heat up, the muscles in your cheeks hurting from how hard you were smiling, "You clean up nice as well, nice ass"

You walked over to him and easily placed yet another kiss on his cheek, "oh look, you don't have to lean down so I can reach you,"

He sucked his teeth, "But you're cute when you have to stand on your tip toes to reach me,"

You got your clutch, slipping your phone and cards in there along with some chap stick and you grabbed his hand, "C'mon. I don't want to make a bad first impression by being late,"

"They never start on time anyway,"

"Stephen," you warned and he sighed, throwing his head back like a child.

"Fiiine,"

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

The party was as at a nice, big venue. There were a bunch of limos and people taking pictures, you wondered what the occasion was.

You two got out of the car and he wrapped his hand around your waist as you walked into the venue.

"Is your friend famous or something?," you laugh as you look up at him.

"Only a genius, billionaire, playboy philanthropist,"

His words having you stopping in your tracks. Those words.. only one person goes by those labels.. Tony Stark... Stephen is friends with Tony Stark... Steve's Avenger partner Tony Stark?!

"Pardon?," your breath quickens, "I'm sorry did you just say you're friends with Tony Stark?,"

"Not directly but yes. And again I wouldn't call him a friend. What's wrong?," He felt you tense up against his body.

You couldn't go in there... but, but maybe they don't remember you? Maybe Steve isn't even here. You can't cause a scene, you told Stephen you'd be here with him.

"Sweetheart," his voice brought you back to reality, "Would you like to go home? I can tell him you got sick, You're always able to back out" 

He was so sweet, so caring, you couldn't do this to him.

"N-no. I'm fine. The fact you're 'friends' with none other than the Tony Stark just caught me off guard is all,"

It's been a long time, they've only met you a few times, again, maybe they don't even remember you. You'd just have to make sure Steve wasn't here and if he was you'd just make sure to avoid him like the plague.

You walked through the doors into the room and there were people swarming and conversing. Maybe you wouldn't even pump into him.

"Let me know if you want to leave. I know you're a homebody, I don't want you to feel like you have to be here,"

His voice was so soothing to you, you could listen to it 25/8.

"I'm here because I want to be here, with you. As long as I'm by your side I'm comfortable and secure," Lacing your arm under his to wrap it around his waist you smiled at him.

"Stepheeen!!," You look forward and see Tony with Pepper by his side. She widens her eyes at you and you just keep your eyes trained on the ground.

She'd helped you find a place all those months back. She'd check up on you here and there but she didn't expect you to be here, especially with Stephen Strange.

"Tony," Stephen acknowledged with a nod and handshake

"Pepper, it's a pleasure to see you," he smiled at you.

"You as well, Dr. Strange,"

"Please, just call me, Stephen," he waved and laughed.

"This is my girlfriend-"

"You look familiar," Tony points out.

You stared at him like a deer in headlights.

"Tony, you're drunk. Let's go greet the other guests," Pepper tried to pull Tony along but he just stayed, squinting at you.

"I've barely had three yet," he says to her.

"We've met before," Tony points at you.

You shook your head and tried to think of something quick, "Maybe if you've come into the diner by Stephen's place," you shook your head, "I think I would remember you, Mr. Stark,"

"No, it's been on more than one occasion and it wasn't at a diner. You've come to my parties before,"

"Tony," Pepper scolded, "You're creeping the poor girl out,"

"You're right, sorry. What's your name again?,"

"Y-Y/N," you heavily swallowed.

He hummed and nodded his head while squinting, "Well, Y/N, I'll see you around. Hope you enjoy the night," he continue to eye you ask he walked away with Pepper.

"That was awkward," Stephen continued walking with you deeper into the crowd and you finally let go of the breath you were holding.

"You have no idea how often that happens," You didn't want to lie to him, dammit you didn't want to lie.

"You're one of a kind, how can anyone mistake you for someone else?,"

"Beats me," you wore a fake smile and just prayed you could make it through the night.

----------

Tony had live bands, you and Stephen had a good time on the dance floor. Wine coursing in your bloodstream, you finally let go for the night and had fun with your boyfriend who did nothing but make you feel comfortable.

"I don't dance. How did I let you convince me to dance in front of a whole bunch of people?," Stephen kissed your exposed shoulder

"Because you like me. We came here to have a good time and we're doing just that,"

He hummed in agreement and spun you around before putting you in a quick dip. Noses touching, you two wore a big smile on your faces and you forgot the tension that you felt when you first walked in.

You saw Pepper coming to you from the corner of your eye and you slowed down your movements a little.

"Hello again, Stephen. Can I steal her for a sec?,"

He stepped back and held his hand out to you, "Y/N, you okay with that?,"

"Yeah, yeah of course, I could use another woman to talk to in this bath of testosterone,"

He kissed your cheek and told you he'd be at the table you guys had for yourselves and you walked away with Pepper.

She pulled you into an empty hallway and started pacing.

"Pep-,"

She wrapped her arms around you and sighed, "It's so good to see you," she whispered, "But what are you doing here? You didn't tell me you were dating Stephen Strange,"

You hugged her back and pulled away, "It's good to see you too. But He didn't tell me we were coming to a party hosted by Tony fricken Stark!,"

"Steve is here,"

Your blood ran cold but you rubbed the goosebumps away, you shouldn't care that he's here and you decided that earlier on in the night.

"I'm over him, Pepper. I'm happy with Stephen. I'm mentally healthy with him."

"Have you seen Steve since you left that night?," Her stare was intense.

"No, why would I need to?," You crunched your face up.

"Because you can say you're over him all you want, Y/N, that's easy. The real challenge is if he sees you and comes to you, you're able to tell him that you've moved on, that you don't want him anymore because honey, he still wants you,"

Why is that the second time you've heard that today? You're strong enough to deny him access back into your life.

"Excuse me? It's been seven months, there's no way he still wants me and it wouldn't matter if he did," Her words caught you off guard.

"He is determined to get you back, Y/N. He's gone to therapy to get his shit together, he told me and Tony that he was going to propose but he screwed everything up. I just want to make sure that you don't let him suck you back in,"

You tilted your head at her like a confused puppy, "I could never give up what I have with Stephen to go back to him. What ever he planned on doing back then.. it's too late,"

She smiled and nodded, "That's good to hear. I couldn't bear seeing you hurt again. You're safe with Stephen. Anyone who saw you guys tonight can tell it's a natural match,"

"You think so?," You smiled and looked down.

"Absolutely. Now, I won't keep you any longer. Go back out there and enjoy the rest of your night," you hugged her again and told her to stop by the diner any time and to call you to set something up.

"Thanks, Pepper and keep Tony away from me. I don't need Stephen knowing how and why Tony knows me,"

"It's hard to keep his mouth shut but I'll do everything I can,"

You smiled at her and walked back out into the room to find Stephen waiting where he said he was talking to God knows who. You stood there smiling at how cute he looked.

"You look beautiful," you instantly froze as the voice came from beside you, "It's so good to see you,"

You looked to your right and saw Steve smiling down at you.

You felt like you couldn't breathe. You prayed you'd never have to see him again.

"Who are you here with? You hate coming to these things,"

You turned away from him to walk around the crowd to get to Stephen but Steve had grabbed your bicep, easily stopping you.

"Get your hands off me, Steve,"

"Just talk to me. Can we get some closure please?,"

You scoffed at him jerked your arm out of his grip.

"Do you really want 'closure' or do you want an excuse to get me alone and talk to me again in case you've had enough time to come up with the right words to say for me to settle? Whatever it is, we're way past that stage," You clenched your jaw and felt like the walls were closing in on you. You didn't want to be sucked back into this.

"Y/N, I still love you, please. We were supposed to get married. Remember those plans? I still have the scrap book of all the plans we made, all the places we looked at for our honeymoon. The flowers, the colors, the food-"

"Steve, stop it!," You tried to keep your voice down, "Those plans are gone. The old us is gone," your voice cracked and you didn't want to cry, not here.

"There will always be an us, Y/N, you know that. You know deep down you still love me like I love you,"

You shook your head and started to feel your eyes burn.

"I still love you, Y/N. We were happy. We're supposed to have a family, you know you want to come back"

"No, Steve,"

"Y/N, what we had was love,"

"No, Steve, it wasn't. You're too selfish to see that" you walk out on the balcony to get some fresh air but you should have known better, he was just going to follow you

"I've tried to contact you for months but you changed your number. You're acting like my love isn't complete. I guess I don't have the right to ask for forgiveness then, right?,"

He so easily sucked you in and guilt tripped you, he didn't change one bit. You stood at the rail of the balcony and looked out into the scenery. You didn't want to be here, you didn't want him anywhere near you.

"I want to believe what I heard somewhere a longtime ago that, that love is free and kind. And you're trying to act like you're all... humble and wise, but what you called love was destroying my life and it's destroying your soul if you ever had one and-,"

He looked at you as if your words were absurd, "Destroying your life?,"

"-I don't even think you even know what it means to love or to be loved," you flung your hands and turned around to face him.

"See, see look, look we've got so much to learn. It's like the strength of your little words, they seem perfect and then they corner us, like this, like this Leonidas curse with a Midas touch. Listen this is the real, that gritty, gory, and gorgeous, it's like, it's like coco butter mixed with sandpaper. See this is love,"

You felt the tears running, he was so adamant on trying to get you back, he was so good at manipulating. you he was an architect with his words, he knew how to structure them so they sounded beautiful. All dressed in beauty but were disgusting lies.

"Of course! Your words, so enticing and the imagery like some Messiah! Living and dying for me and then acting and saving me. But wait, what about the freedom that truth brings? What about the protection that love. brings?!,"

"See, oh, oh, yeah, so this is your kiss to send me off right? Like I haven't been no shelter?,"

Your eyes bug out of your head at his incredulous words, "Shelter?!,"

"And those ornery onlookers that know what we've been through they keep questioning my methods. But look, this, me, I am in your atriums, like ancient drums. You owe me your life! Your love!!,"

This is not the Steve you knew and loved. You wish you could help him find himself. He's become so much more toxic and entitled.

"I don't belong to anyone but me!," you jabbed your finger into your chest as you cried.

"Oh wait which, which one of us is being selfish here?,"

"Who could be selfish?!, I can't owe what you never gave-"

He got right in your face, "You will always owe me,"

"And the love you gave was NEVER LOVE!,"

"You are going to always live with my sacrifices!," he yelled over top of you which only fueled you to yell louder.

"You don't know ANYTHING about love! You are so twisted and warped!,"

"You will always know my sacrifices!,"

"You're so full of your own lies!!!," you sobbed. He stared at you and you couldn't even recognize him.

"What's going on out here?," Standing in the doorway of the balcony was Stephen, Tony and Pepper.

"This is love, Y/N. I will never stop fighting to get you back"

You shook your head and stepped around him, "The most disgusting lies are dressed in beauty that'll rot,"

You looked at the three people and you knew you looked broken.

"Steve, what did you do?," Tony asks as he stares at you, it finally clicks for him, his eyes widening "You're the ex,"

"Y/N. Let's go," Stephen steps forward and you rush to him grabbing his arm.

"Thanks for the better part of the night, Tony," He spoke quickly. He expertly weaved you through the crowd until you were outside and he sat you on the hood of his car, setting your clutch by you.

"Hey, hey. It's me, it's me," He held your face as you cried harder.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you just kept apologizing as you were sucked into that pit once again.

"Don't apologize. I'm here, it's me, no one else but me,"

"I d-didn't expect to see him. I didn't ex-expect you be friends with T-Tony Stark,"

"Take your time, you're going to make yourself sick with this rush of emotion. Take a few breaths. Take your time,"

You tried your best to calm down but everything hit you like a million pounds.

"I'm so sorry," you just couldn't stop apologizing, "I- I just wanted to forget my past with Steve... that's why I didn't tell you who he was,"

"I can understand why," he wrapped his arms around you and lightly swayed back and forth, "We heard everything from inside. The way he spoke to you. Tony had to keep me from sending him into another realm. Y/N, I'm so sorry. I should have found you sooner,"

"This isn't your fault, Stephen and I should have been honest," you bunched his jacket up in your hands and hiccupped as the cries slowed down.

"I'm not going to blame you for keeping his identity from me, if that's what you're thinking. Steve Rogers or not, he doesn't get a pass with treating you like that. I'm here now though and I will do everything I can to make you feel safe," he kissed your temple and pulled back from you just a bit to wipe your cheeks with his thumbs.

"We're gonna go home and get cleaned up, order some whatever you want and binge watch your favorite series. We can talk more when you're ready, I just want to relax,"

We're going home

You were so grateful for this man. He was that something solid you needed. He didn't tell you to calm down when you were upset, he let you get everything out. He didn't push you to talk but he did let you know he was always ready to when you were.

"Sounds good,"

He led you to your side of the car, opening the door for you, letting you get in to buckle yourself in, he leaned in to place a kiss on your lips before shutting the door. He walked in front of the car and grabbed your clutch before getting in on his side. You looked up at the venue and right on the balcony you see Steve, staring intensely down at you. You scrambled to grab Stephen's hand and he looked over at you in worry then followed your gaze to catch Steve staring as well.

With ease, he started the car with his other hand and put it into gear, driving away. You looked in the side view mirror and could still see him.

Stephen clenched his jaw and looked in his rear view at Steve

"I can see he's going to be a problem,"

*The End*

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

PART 3?!?!? Let me know!! I hope you guys enjoyed this, please leave feedback even if it's a simple emoji or gif <3 If your tag has a slash through it, it didn't work. If I forgot you I deeply apologize so just let me now

Steve and Readers argument comes from the interlude Vanity by Lacey Sturm (rip Flyleaf)

Tags- @cliffordasparagus @sideeffectsofyou @shannonr2003 @chaddaddybose @succulentsareprettycool​ @grey-junior​ @hpspngot​ @bartonsbowandarrow​ @thebesteleganttrashyouseen​ @theworldshesaw​ @get-loki​ @misstoryunfolded​ @sgtevanstan​ @queen-of-the-jabari​ @mbaku-babygirl​ @michaels-endtime​ @babybubastis​ @definethatpotato​ @ricekneess​ @tchallaknowsbetter​ @madamslayyy​ @lovely-leigh​ @ladydragonpurplefire  @majikmelanin​ 

[cindylouwho-2]

RECENT NEWS, RESOURCES & STUDIES, late February 2020

Welcome to my latest summary of recent ecommerce news, resources & studies including search, analytics, content marketing, social media & Etsy! This covers articles I came across since the early February report, although some may be older than that. I am a bit behind due to my trip last week and other events, but some things here are a bit time-sensitive so I wanted to release this now. 

I am still looking into setting up a new ecommerce business forum where we can discuss this sort of news, as well as any day-to-day issues we face. I need some good suggestions for a cheap or free forum space that has some editing tools, is fairly intuitive for inexperienced members, and is accessible. If you have any suggestions, please reply to this post, email me on my website, or send me a tweet. (I will put out a survey once we narrow this down to some good candidates, but if you have any other comments on what you want from such a forum, please include those too!)

As always, if you see any stories I might be interested in, please let me know!

TOP NEWS & ARTICLES 

Since we are seeing more shops closed due to Etsy’s customer service level standards, my blog post on ODR now has major revisions explaining what we have learned, and includes some tips for staying out of trouble and if necessary, appealing a suspension. Please circulate the info widely, as many sellers still haven’t heard about this, and some were closed without having any clue this was possible. 

Mobile continues to grow while desktop use is slowly shrinking. It should affect how we design web pages. “Mobile visitors also behave differently from their desktop web counterparts, staying on pages for shorter periods of time, for example.” Other interesting takeaways from this SimilarWeb report: “[Facebook] lost 8.6% of [web] traffic over the past year alone” but increased in app sessions. 

The price of domains ending in “.com” will almost certainly be going up soon, and will go up most years after that, unless something changes at the last minute. If you are absolutely certain that you will continue to use the same domain name for your website, blog, ecommerce forwarding etc., then you might consider paying a few years in advance to save a few bucks. 

Another article explaining how people are selling thrift store and vintage clothing on Instagram, without setting up a checkout/cart anywhere. (The article focusses on teenagers, but does reference other examples.)

ETSY NEWS 

Two weeks ago, Etsy Support posted on Twitter that they were no longer monitoring the account, and asked everyone to use the help page maze instead when they need support. Forum thread here.  

Another trend report for 2020 from Dayna Isom Johnson [podcast links & transcript] She leads off with tips on how to get featured: “ so it's incredibly important to see a bright representation that really clearly shows your product...Do be original. I'm always trying to find the latest and the greatest that isn’t already on the shelves...Do be inclusive. ... I'm talking about models of all ethnicities, all genders, all body types, all ages.” Etsy chose chartreuse as their colour of the year: “in the last three months, there's been a 12% increase in searches for green already, and a 55% increase in neon green.” The wedding trends part was mostly already covered in a blog post, but she does also answer a few seller questions. 

Website user experience (UX) is a big part of getting people to convert, and an outside group ranks Etsy’s as “acceptable”. Many will be unsurprised that search gets a score of “mediocre” and Accounts & Self-Service get a “poor” grade.  

The migration to Google Cloud services is complete, so now Etsy can run more experiments more often, including those involving AI. (Although the forum thread was laughing at the idea of bad reviews helping shops, there is actually some research supporting that, so it is a logical thing to test.)

Etsy sellers in the US, UK & Canada who use Instagram can apply to win a trip to Etsy HQ here, until March 1.

Etsy is launching an Etsy U program which just seems a bit sketchy. Forum thread here.

Reverb (owned by Etsy) named a new Chief Technology Officer on Feb. 18.

SEO: GOOGLE & OTHER SEARCH ENGINES 

Google does not confirm every large search update, so this one remains a mystery at the moment, since Google refused to give an answer. That means it’s not a core update. 

Another video (with subtitles in several languages) from the SEO for Beginners series from Google, on the basics you need for good website SEO. 

If you are interested in “searcher intent”, this 500 person survey asks about what people are really looking for, and what they think of the search results the end up with. Overwhelmingly, they say they prefer organic results to ads, and the majority see targeted ads that they can’t figure out the reason/s behind. “Sixty-eight percent responded that Google adding more ads to the search results would make them want to use the search engine less.” Also, a slight majority preferred text results to images, video, & audio. “When asked which factor had the most significant impact on their decision to click a result, 62.9% responded it was the description, followed by 24.2% who said the brand name, and 13% who said title.” That means that the first part of your Etsy listing description, or the coded meta description on a page on your website, has the most influence on people clicking on your link once they see it. 

I usually strongly suggest that people setting up their own websites make sure they do some SEO work & keyword research for their category/shop section pages, and it turns out that there is new research showing I am correct. “Specifically, e-commerce category pages – which include parent category, subcategory and product grid pages with faceted navigation – ranked for 19% more keywords on average than product detail pages ranked for. The additional keywords they ranked for drove an estimated 413% more traffic, based on the keywords’ search demand and the pages’ ranking position. With optimization, those ranking category pages also showed the potential to drive 32% more traffic.”

Semi-advanced: explaining the (seemingly endless) debate on whether subdomains or subdirectories are better for SEO. 

SEO study - do you really need to use H1 tags on a page? Maybe not, although some screen readers recognize them as the page title so they help with accessibility. (Etsy & many other marketplaces don’t let you make this coding choice, so don’t worry about it there.)

Confused about how to apply all of these SEO tips I post here to your Shopify site? Good news! Here’s a list of what is most important for Shopify SEO. Note the attention to setting up your category pages, which is something I completely agree with. (it’s by Ahrefs so of course it pushes their tools; you don’t need to pay for that.)

CONTENT MARKETING & SOCIAL MEDIA (includes blogging & emails) 

Some businesses say social media doesn’t work, but maybe they aren’t doing it right. See if you are making one or more of these three mistakes. “Understanding who your target audience is - what they want, what they need, where you fit in, etc. - is critical to maximizing your social media marketing performance.”

Email marketing also works better if you do it right, so here are 5 things you might be doing wrong. And if you like a quick read, here’s an infographic on the psychology of email marketing. 

8 ideas for getting more interactions on Facebook (detailed infographic).

More fourth quarter reports continue: Pinterest’s 4th quarter revenue was up 46% but they lost $1.36 billion, and they are introducing a verified merchant program. “Almost all (97%) of the top searches on Pinterest are unbranded, according to the company, giving merchants a chance to stand out.”

Want to tap into that Pinterest traffic? You should because “90% of weekly Pinterest users log in to make buying decisions.”  Here are 10 ways to get more attention, followers, and pins. 

Like almost all social media, Twitter has an algorithm that mediates what users see (although you can turn it off, or use apps such as Tweetdeck to get around it as a reader). Ranking factors include recency, engagement, media and activity. The article includes a few tips on how to make it work for you, but then slides into promoting its app as the solution - you can just skip that part. 

ONLINE ADVERTISING (SEARCH ENGINES, SOCIAL MEDIA, & OTHERS) 

Google search ads get more results than Facebook and Instagram, simply because more people who see them want to buy something. “Less expensive products tend to sell better than more expensive ones on Facebook and Instagram, per the study.”

If you are running ads where you can choose your keywords, don’t forget to examine your organic search results and impressions for new words to advertise. Google Search Console is a great source.

If you found Instagram ads too expensive, check out this post on how the ads are priced, which can help you make decisions on your spend. 

ECOMMERCE NEWS, IDEAS, TRENDS 

Amazon has nearly 40% of the US ecommerce market, according to a report by eMarketer. Etsy is not in the top 10; eBay is 3rd behind Walmart. 

Sales on Shopify sites during the Black Friday-Cyber Monday long weekend went up 61% to $3 billion in 2019. They claim that the “direct -to-consumer” approach can be successful for both big & small brands. 

Japanese authorities are going after Rakuten for the ecommerce company’s push to make its sellers offer free shipping. 

eCommerceBytes’ annual Sellers Choice survey placed eBay first out of the online marketplaces that were rate. Note that this is not a scientific survey and largely covers the site’s readership only. Bonanza was the most improved & Etsy showed the worst drop (from 1st to 5th place). 

A review of that article last month that says ecommerce sites should have info pages as well as product pages, if only for SEO reasons. The author approves. 

The CBC show Marketplace did a large test buying branded items on AliExpress, Amazon, eBay, Walmart and Wish. It turns out that most were fake. 

Facebook’s cryptocurrency plans (Libra) finally have a partner: Shopify. The potential benefits include no credit card processing fees. 

BUSINESS & CONSUMER STUDIES, STATS & REPORTS; SOCIOLOGY & PSYCHOLOGY, CUSTOMER SERVICE 

Younger people (think Gen Z) expect to see gender treated expansively and beyond traditional stereotypes, and they expect this from companies and advertising. “Half of women and four in 10 men in the U.S. now believe that there is a spectrum of gender identities, according to a recent Ipsos poll titled "The Future of Gender is Increasingly Nonbinary." An additional 16% of those surveyed said they know a person who identifies as transgender”

MISCELLANEOUS (including humour) 

Google employees are pushing back against the sea change in the company’s culture and values - and some are being fired. 

Turns out that the “Peleton Wife” ad might not have hurt them as much as you might think. However, their stock dropped 12% after the fourth quarter report showed a 77% increase in revenue that still managed to be below market predictions. Interesting discussion around going viral in a negative fashion.

[vixxscifiwritings]

everlasting fame and glory

AU - Mephisto inspired demons AU

Length - 1500 words

Characters - Wonshik x Jaehwan

Rating - Teen and Up

Summary - Kim Wonshik starts a new music label and desperately prays for its success. Mephisto appears to bargain for his soul in return for fame and glory. To tempt him, Mephisto takes the form of a past lover - Lee Jaehwan.

A/N -  This was hastily put together based on an AU idea I had on Twitter here and the original German Folklore of Faust that inspires the Mephisto musical.

Tag List -  @tomatoholmes @merlionmen @seraphistols  @k-craze-97 @blossomtearsleo

-

Wonshik spaces out, looking at the ticking clock. It's a few minutes past midnight but with the amount of stress he is under, it feels like the night should already be over. Outside his apartment and on the streets of Seoul, nightlife has just begun. People are milling about, street markets and food vendors setting up as clubs start filling up.

June 27 has barely begun but it already is the most important date in his life so far. The day he launches his own music label. From arranging on a laptop in a closet sized room to his own studio to his own company. Groovl1n is the biggest risk he will ever take and there is no turning back now.

His phone vibrates and the screen on his laptop refreshes. Many more replies and retweets are attached to the official Twitter announcement. The follower counts are steadily rising and the hashtags climb the trends list. The Naver articles have a burst in reactions and comments and netizens have started discussing the announcement on many forums.

Wonshik even has haters already, God bless their souls.

"You're probably the first man who has asked for his enemies and obstacles to be blessed."

Wonshik starts. Even the voice in his head sounds like Jaehwan now. How much more pathetic can he get? Not every tall man he sees is Jaehwan, not every silhouette or shadow passing is Jaehwan and not every voice he hears is Jaehwan. Wonshik needs to accept the fact that he is gone.

In silent moments like this, his traitorous brain betrays him by expressing loneliness and replaying a reel of memories. It’s a special kind of loneliness that heartbroken people feel.

He sighs and gets up to grab a wine glass and a bottle from the cabinet. If he can't sleep or clear his mind and focus, then he will drink to keep himself occupied. He can't pronounce the name of the brand but he recognizes good red wine from how earthy the flavour is on his tongue.

"One of the better ones"

"Who's there?!" Wonshik yells. He replaced the wine glass with the nearest knife and holds it tightly. The door swings and closes behind him and he turns sharply.

"There won't be any need for that now" the intruder says, gently pushing the knife away by its tip. The sharp edge slices his finger and a drop of blood oozes out.

"Jaehwan?" Wonshik asks, watching the man put the finger close to his mouth and lick the blood away.

"If that's what you want to call me" the intruder shrugs.

Wonshik steps away. This man looks like his Jaehwan but clearly isn't. His hair is straight and done up whereas his Jaehwan preferred to leave his hair curly and forehead hidden under his bangs. His Jaehwan has warm chocolate eyes whereas this intruder's eyes are dark enough to be black. This intruder stands taller, more self assured whereas his Jaehwan tends to make himself small in an attempt to protect himself from the world.

"What sick joke is this?" Wonshik asks angrily.

"Oh but it isn't a joke at all, is it?" the intruder - no Jaehwan - no this man, asks.

"Who are you?" Wonshik demands.

"No one of any significance" the intruder - no Jaehwan - sings.

"And yet here you are, past midnight, in my house" Wonshik accuses.

"Oh, I never said I didn't have an agenda" the intruder smiles.

His eyes twinkle the way Jaehwan's eyes used to. This is Jaehwan, isn’t it? It’s Jaehwan. His Jaehwan. His eyes twinkle the same and no one in this world can replicate the loveliness they hold. Wonshik hates how he is still weak for Jaehwan’s eyes. But he lets Jaehwan take the knife out of his hands and put it away.

Jaehwan cups Wonshik's face and looks into his eyes. "So many thoughts in your head. I can see them all running through your mind."

"You're under so much stress, love" Jaehwan says softly. Wonshik sighs, closing his eyes and nuzzling into Jaehwan's hands. He has missed the warmth of his beloved.

"Oh dearest" Jaehwan says, pulling Wonshik in. the familiar nickname tugs on the strings of his heart painfully.

"What stone have you left unturned to bring your record label up?" he continues. "From shaking hands with corrupt officials to calling in favours for studio spaces… How much did you have to bribe the registrar again? Didn’t you get lucky with his daughter being a fan? Or was that the marketing head you were going to hire till you found out he was suspected of fraud?"

"They always said it was going to be hard" Wonshik says, resting his head on Jaehwan's shoulder. Jaehwan automatically puts his arms on Wonshik's waist and Wonshik reciprocates without even thinking about it.

"Don't you get scared thinking about the future? It isn't just you anymore is it? There are two more people who are totally dependent on you. That would really scare me. Imagine ruining three people’s lives at once and not just one."

Wonshik's hold on Jaehwan loosens. Jaehwan pulls away and looks at Wonshik evenly. Wonshik hesitates, fighting with the insecurities in his mind and trying to decide what the correct reply should be. Failure is not an option he entertains. Neither is admission of a possibility of it.

"I could make these fears go away" Jaehwan proposes, leaning forward.

"How?" Wonshik asks. Jaehwan always knows the right words to say. There is nothing that Jaehwan can do of course. But to hear him attempt it is enough to reassure Wonshik’s troubled mind for a moment.

"Don't worry about the nitty gritties my love. The details lie with the devil. All you have to do is give me your soul and everlasting fame and glory are yours" Jaehwan promised.

"Everything I have is yours" Wonshik says without missing a beat.

"Be careful with promises you make love" Jaehwan warns.

"I won't break your heart again. I promise" Wonshik begs.

This is a scary repeat of their break up. Wonshik knows it was his fault for being so absorbed in his work that he neglected Jaehwan. God knows how many times Jaehwan had tried to work things out and been patient as Wonshik made him his second priority again and again. But eventually his patience had run out. Wonshik had begged him not to leave and promised to do better. But Jaehwan had warned him not to make promises he couldn’t keep.

"I'll give up the entire world for you. Just to have you back."

"So greedy. You've always wanted everything you lay your eyes on" Jaehwan laughs. "Ambitious in your art and ambitious in your love. But you must choose one and only one, dearest. You only have one soul to give after all."

Wonshik starts to protest but is silenced by a finger on his lips. "I insist on you thinking this through" Jaehwan smiles at him.

Wonshik knows the answer. He should say Jaehwan. His world has always been Jaehwan. He has never loved anyone more than he has ever loved the man in front of him.

And yet, Wonshik hesitates.

Jaehwan grins at him. The last time he grinned at him like this was the first time they had sex in the restroom of a restaurant while an important album release party went on outside. It's a grin full of mischief. All his evil intentions on display.

"Everlasting fame and glory" Jaehwan says, sealing the deal with a kiss.

Wonshik stumbles. The kiss leaves him dazed and the gaze makes Jaehwan even more tempting. He leans in for another kiss. Something deeper and more passionate. He needs Jaehwan so so bad…

"Time to go to sleep dearest" Jaehwan says.

"Jaehwan…" Wonshik whimpers. But Jaehwan isn’t wrong. He feels drowsy. Perhaps it is the exhaustion kicking in now that the adrenaline rush has ebbed away. Jaehwan’s presence is also a source of great comfort. His eyes start to droop, blinks drawn out.

"Mephistopheles actually. But it doesn't matter because you won't remember it in the morning" Jaehwan says.

Nothing makes sense but Wonshik nods anyways. It'll make sense in the morning. That's what Jaehwan said right? He trusts Jaehwan. So he closes his eyes and goes to sleep in his beloved's arms.

Mephistopheles knows this. A former lover is the easiest temptation for weak humans. He does quite like the body. His former lover is quite handsome and could break more hearts should he choose to give up the cute facade.

But that is neither here nor there. Mephistopheles carries Wonshik to his bed and lays him down. He even tucks him in for the sake of completeness of his act.

He runs a finger over his lips. The deal is sealed. This is only the beginning of Kim Wonshik's many sins. He is only here to provide the gentle nudge into the abyss that starts his fall from grace.

He snaps his fingers and the bulldog sleeping in the corner wakes up. The dog growls and Mephistopheles is glad he had the foresight to put the distraction out of the way. He disappears, leaving the pet barking at thin air.

This isn’t the last Kim Wonshik will see of him.

-

[lykaonimagines]

Where The Heart Sings - Tom Hiddleston x Reader One-Shot

(Day Fourteen) I missed the original day 14 sorry :S

Here’s day fourteen of my trying to post every other day of November. If all goes to plan you’ll be seeing another story on the 29th! If you’d like to be on any of my tag lists just let me know.

This one is sort of personal to me. I’ve been in a long distance overseas relationship now 4 1/2 years with (tbh) probably the guy I’m going to marry one day 😶I’ve been missing him a lot, and this story just sort of happened. Airports have simultaneously become the place of greatest happiness and sadness. So this one is taking from that moment of utter bliss in the airport when you finally see them again. 

(All Shakespeare quotes used at italicized, the rest is me.)

Paring: Tom x Reader

Word Count: 2,163

Description: Y/N and Tom finally reunited in the airport after a year apart.

Warning: Nothing really

(gif isn’t mine)

Checking the arrival screens for the seemingly hundredth time, Y/N finds herself pacing in the crowded luggage claim area. As the small sign twists in her hands, her mind races.

It had been a year since she last saw him. They had been in this long distance relationship for four years now. Both wanting to see where this would go, but not ready to give up their lives on a maybe.

The day she first met Tom, she both simultaneously thanked and hated, for bringing this wonderfully intelligent, dorky, sweet, and loving man into her life. She’d met him on a train on a vacation in London. The man next to her so engrossed in Coriolanus she couldn’t help herself from commenting. A megawatt smile turned up from the book to face her, and the rest was history.

He swept her off her feet before she even knew what happened, and by the end of the month she found herself kissing this man goodbye through a tearful gaze. Only one month and she was already smitten. That seemed so long ago now, the years that followed were full of late night FaceTime dates and seeing one another as much as possible for their schedule.

The past year however… everything went wrong, every plan to see one another. He had taken on so many roles he seemed to be in a constant state of filming or promoting that left him with little to no time to get away to her. And her attempts to go see him always ended in her boss insisting she head another project.

So there she stood in her hometown airport gripping a sign with his name, and waiting to finally see him after the long year apart.

She should be happy. In theory she is. But she’s terrified.

“It’s been an entire year,” she mutters looking down at herself with a frown. “What if it doesn’t feel the same? What if he doesn’t feel the same? What if I look different? What if he doesn’t like how I look anymore? What if when he sees me he realizes the women he’s around on a regular basis are better? What if he decides this isn’t worth it anymore- if I’m not worth it anymore,” she mutters to herself as she tugs at her outfit once again.

She knew some of it was crazy. He seen her on FaceTime every few days. And if he truly didn’t love her anymore he wouldn’t call her nearly everyday. Or would he? He’s so polite maybe he thinks it’s better to end things in person.

Y/N shakes her head roughly and pulls out her phone to check her makeup once again, then checks her messages.

“He should be landing anytime now, he thinks there’s a driver waiting for him, still doesn’t know it’s you. I’ll keep the business away for as long as I can, you two enjoy yourself. - Luke.”

Grinning down at the text with a new found confidence, she stands up straighter and finds herself a spot against one of the airport columns, slightly out of view from the escalators that bring the arriving passengers down.

She’d originally told Tom she couldn’t make it to pick him up, and in truth she really didn’t think she could. She had taken the next few weeks off, but her boss had insisted she come in today to take care of some work for him. Tom had been disappointed, she could tell by the tone of his voice but he played it off. So she pulled some strings and worked her ass off to get all her work done in the morning, and make it to the airport to fetch him.

She had texted Luke to ask of his ride plans, and had received notice he’d cancel Tom’s ride and not let him know it was her so she could surprise him. Something she was really excited for, nervous, but excited.

As the baggage belt near her begin to move, her eyes flicker to the digital screen above it, London.

Looking to the second floor as passengers begin their descent, she grips the sign with his name tightly in her fist. Her insides are churning and she feels somewhere between wanting to throw up or run away. Closing her eyes, she carefully breathes in and out slowly before forcing a smile to her face.

Seeing a familiar form appear at the top of the stairs, she smiles genuinely. Tom’s here. He’s finally here.

Her heart beating frantically, she lifts the sign up to hold in front of her chest as she leans back against the column.

As he finally reaches the bottom of the stairs, she finds herself admiring him. He has been working out, very clearly. His t-shirt clings to lean muscular frame in all the right ways, his hair tussled, and his expression clearly one of concentration as he searches the crowd for his ride.

A small laugh leaves her as a few fans finally notice him in the crowd, and a shriek sounds as her accepts pens and paper to sign whatever is shoved at him. Selfie after selfie, she finds she’s calmed down more than she thought possible. The same Tom. Kind and sweet to his fans no matter the setting.

Finishing up signing his last autograph, she sees him begin to search the crowd again, so she extends her arm high into the air with his sign.

Finally pinpointing his name, his eyes move down from it to her arm, and settle on her face, their eyes locking. What was that about being calm? His eyes widen as realization washes over him, and her heart begins to beat against her ribcage. Those brilliant blue eyes locked on her.

She can see him mumble something, probably excusing himself as he slips around his fans, heading directly toward her. Something snaps in her, as adrenaline courses through her and she starts speed walking toward him, he doing the same.

The closer they get, the more everything fades out. The sound of the airport, the crowd of people, everything except him just seem to fade into her subconscious as he gets closer. Both finally break out into a full sprint, and she finds herself leaping into his arms, him pulling her legs up to wrap around his waist as his lips find hers.

Perfect. All she can fathom in that moment. Perfect.

The feeling of his soft lips against hers, her arms around his neck, the smell of his familiar cologne and shampoo overwhelming her senses as she moves her lips with his. Her fingers tangle into his hair as a soft grunt escapes him. His teeth bite at her lip she as she starts to pull away, pulling her back in with a laugh from both sides. As their kiss finally ends, he presses his forehead to hers, and stares into her Y/H/C eyes with the most loving gaze she’s ever seen. God she loves this man.

“You said you couldn’t make it,” he mumbles, his voice ragged as he still tries to catch his breath.

“Surprise,” she whispers back with a smile, and that brilliant megawatt smile she first fell for graces his face once again.

And as quick as the moment came, it’s shattered by the sudden realization of countless flashes going off and the sound of cameras clicking.

“Shit,” he mutters, as she quickly untangles her legs from around him and drops to the airport tile, her face bright red.

“I’m sorry, I-,” she begins before he grips her hand and rushes to grab his luggage from the carousel and pulls her out the door.

“Not your fault love, we got a little excited,” he chuckles as he pulls a hat and sunglasses from his bag.

“Yeah I guess so,” she laughs nervously. “Let’s get back to my place?”

The ride back to her apartment is mostly silent. Just the sound of the radio buzzing in the background as her thoughts race once again. Scolding herself for the display she caused in the airport. That’s why he’s being so silent. He likes his personal life private, and she just probably made them the front page of the tabloids.

Dropping all his things off in her room, he deposits himself on her couch with his phone in hand and holds out an arm for her to join him.

Hesitantly, she sits beside him as she tries to find a way to break the silence as she watches him go to Twitter.

And there it was. She swallows hard as she sees him scroll through various photos of all different angles and in all different filters of them in the airport.

“I- I’ll be right back,” she says quickly as she pulls herself up from the couch and races to the bathroom, a confused Tom watching her.

Sitting on the edge of her bathtub she sighs. A whole year apart. One perfect moment. And then ruined. She has no idea how to approach this topic with him. They’d both agreed on not exactly hiding their relationship, but making it sparse. The last thing either of them wanted was everyone in their business. Especially him, he put so much effort into keeping his private life just that, private.

Lost in her thoughts, she feels the vibration of her phone in her pocket. Pulling it out, she’s surprised to see a notification from Twitter… that Tom tweeted? She had forgotten she even had his notifications on, it had been so long since he last even tweeted.

Bracing herself, she taps the notification and waits for her app to load, gasping when it finally does.

He had posted one of the photos. Clicking it with a shaky hand, she looks at the photo of them, a simple black and white filter on it. Her legs around his waist, arms around his neck, and their lips locked. A smile spreads across her face as she notices how utterly blissful they both look.

Looking down to his caption, a few tears fight to break free, “Hear my soul speak. Of the very instant that I saw you, Did my heart fly at your service. I love you beyond measure.”

Flinging the bathroom door open, phone in hand, she rushes back out to her living room to see Tom sitting where she left him, a big grin on his face.

“You saw it I hope?” He asks.

She nods, “I did, I just… I thought you didn’t want this to be public? I thought you were mad about what happened.”

“Darling,” he calls out as he opens his arms to her.

Diving into his arms, her head immediately goes to his chest and he kisses the top of it.

“I apologize for the silence on the way back, I was thinking. About everything,” he says as he twirls a lock of her hair on his finger. “I don’t think I’ve ever been happier in my life than I was in that moment. And looking at all those photos, and seeing what I hope is the same look on your face. I don’t want to hide it anymore, I want the world to know I’m the happiest man on this planet because I have your love, and you in my arms.”

Stroking his chest, she looks up at him lovingly, “I’ve missed you Tom.”

“And I you, I love you darling,” he whispers against her lips as his press to hers.

The soft gentle kiss sends chills up her spine as she settles against him, making her mind up finally on one thought that’s been hounding her for months.

“I think it’s time,” she states as she strokes his facial hair.

“Hm?” He inquires, his eyes flickering back open. “Time for what?”

“Time that maybe I start looking for a new job,” she answers.

“Oh?” His brow furrows at her answer. “Are they giving you more problems?”

“No, nothing like that,” she continues. “I was thinking a change of scenery.”

“Such as?”

“Oh I don’t know. London maybe,” she says nonchalantly, fighting the grin trying to break through.

His eyes widen immediately, his mouth agape unsure how to respond, “I- are you certain?”

“Completely,” she nods.

“You’re ready to leave your home, for me?” He asks hesitantly.

“Tom,” she says, tilting his chin down so they’re face to face. “Home is where the heart sings, and it only sings for you.”

A smile spreads across his face as he takes in her reply, and he pulls her to him, falling onto his back as she lays on his chest, “I do love nothing in the world so well as you—is not that strange?”

“Very strange indeed,” she agrees as her finger traces along his lips. “Absolutely mad I must say, but I find myself equally mad for you.”

“Then don’t cure me of this insanity, for it’s sweet embrace is all I need.”

---

Masterlist  

(Had trouble tagging a few sorry :/)

Tom Tag List: @bambamwolf87 @thepowerofawkwardcompelsyou @theoneanna @mrshicks38​ @cute-mirei​ @chamberof0secrets

All Stories Tag List: @arttasticgreatnessoftheawesome77 @chezagnes @fuckthatfeeling @oatballsoffury  @thisismysecrethappyplace @xcasiferx @its-remy-not-ratatouille @dangertoozmanykids101 @izzywings @fairlightswiftly