#i very much doubt Liam just casually said that

[trashedork]

Just For You

Pairing: Liam Evans/OC Words: 2,227 CW: Mild suggestive behavior, slight spoilers for Liam's route Note: This is very, very, very self-indulgent. Here's my OC's profile sheet if you want to take a look. x Header and divider are made by @/natimiles

Rina's cocoa-colored eyes slowly opened, and she released a quiet yawn before stretching her arms above her head. As she blinked, the morning light streaming in through the window caused her vision to blur momentarily. A soft chuckle caught her attention, prompting her to blink a few more times until her sight cleared. It was at that moment when she noticed Liam beside her, his arm casually resting around her waist, his smile exuding sweetness.

"Good morning, Rina." He greeted, bending down to plant a gentle kiss on her lips.

“Mhm… Good morning.” 

Liam affectionately pressed his nose against her cheek, letting out a giggle. "You look so cute when you're sleepy." He remarked before planting a gentle kiss beneath her ear. "Let’s stay in bed for a little longer, okay?”

Rina giggled at the feeling of his lips, instinctively turning her head away from him. “Liam! That tickles!”

“I know how much you like it when I kiss you here. Let me do it some more. I want to hear more of your voice.” The young man declared, his voice as smooth as honey. He laid more kisses on her soft skin, eventually running kisses down the side of her neck. 

Despite relishing the delightful sensations and feeling the urge to linger in bed, Rina was aware that it was time to rise and start the day. She wriggled out of Liam's firm hold, shifting to her side and moving away. Looking back at her lover with a blush on her cheeks, she said, “Come on. We should get ready.”

Liam emitted a whine from the depths of his throat, causing his lower lip to protrude slightly. However, a smile soon spread across his face, and he moved closer to Rina and kissed her cheek. “Okay. Can we go on a date?”

“Hehe. Yes. We can.”

“Yay!”

Following their morning routine of getting dressed and having breakfast together, the couple made their way to Leadenhall Market. Hand in hand, they strolled through the market, admiring the displays in the shop windows and indulging in delicious treats from different vendors. 

While they were walking, Liam noticed the furrowed brows and the faint pout on Rina's face, which made him concerned. In a tender manner, he called out to her. “Rina? What’s wrong?”

The ebony-haired girl blinked, her eyes widening as she looked up at him. She shook her head, her lips forming a smile. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Did something bad happen? You can tell me. I’ll make it all go away.” Liam insisted, his magenta eyes darkening at the thought of his lover being harmed.

“It’s okay. Really. I’m fine.” Rina squeezed his hand tightly, trying to reassure him that there was nothing to worry about. “Thank you, though.”

Liam's expression softened, yet the concern remained palpable on his face. His eyes remained fixed on Rina, who stared ahead, feeling the all-too-familiar sensation of rain cascading down upon his heart. Doubt crept in as he questioned whether he had once again made a mistake. He wracked his memory but was unable to recall any recent mistakes he had made. 

And yet… And yet, for some reason, Rina was acting strange. It was like she was hiding something from him. Something that he shouldn’t know. 

No, no, no. 

Don’t think like that, Liam. Rina wouldn’t hide something from you unless it was really important. 

However, try as he might, he couldn't shake off the unsettling notion that there was something amidst. 

She probably found someone better than you. Someone that can make her happier. A voice within him, the one that belonged to another him, who he hadn't heard in a long time, said. After all, who would love someone like you? Even though Rina saved you, you still think that you’re nothing. Isn’t that right?

Yes. That’s right.

Rina was a kind and bright person. She was no match for someone like Liam who considered himself worthless and flawed. But the image of Rina being taken away by another man… No. He couldn’t accept that. 

He loved her. His affection for her knew no bounds. It was a deep, unwavering love that consumed his every thought and action.

“... am? Liam? Are you okay?”

Snapping out of his thoughts, he turned towards Rina whose eyes were wide in curiosity. With a gentle nod and a warm smile, he reassured her. “Yeah. Sorry.”

Rina observed him for a few minutes before glancing around the market. Her attention was drawn to a dress in a nearby window, a vibrant blue hue adorned with intricate white lace accents on the shoulders and collar. A blue ribbon was elegantly fastened at the top of the lace. The dress boasted white billowy sleeves that extended to the elbows, while the skirt featured double layers and was completed with white trimmings. It was beautiful and Rina pondered how she would appear wearing it, wondering if Liam would like to see her in it.

All of a sudden, a quiet rumbling noise could be heard, startling her. She looked up at Liam, giving him a sheepish smile. “I'm still hungry…”

“Okay. Let’s go get something to eat.” He laughed, his eyes crinkling in amusement. Pausing, he raised Rina's hand to his lips and planted a soft kiss on it. “I’ll do anything for my cute Rina.”

“Liam! We’re in public!”

“Haha. Sorry, sorry. I couldn’t help it.” He gently pulled on Rina's hand, guiding her through the crowded street. “Let’s go.”

As the scorching sun descended, casting a vibrant orange hue across the sky, Liam and Rina found themselves back at Crown Castle. Their date had been so enjoyable that it had consumed a significant portion of their day, leaving Liam with little time to spare before his stage rehearsals for the upcoming play at Scala.

Upon stepping into Rina's room, Liam let out a sigh, closing his eyes for a brief moment. “It’s time for me to go.” He stated with a smile playing on his lips, casting a glance at Rina and tilting his head slightly. “You’ll be a good girl while I’m gone, right?” 

“Yeah…” Rina replied quietly with a nod, her cheeks flushed.

“Hehe. All right. Well, I’ll be off.” Liam gently placed his hand on the small of her back and planted a tender kiss on her lips. Stepping back, he uttered, “See you later.” 

Nodding again, Rina smiled. “Bye. Have fun.”

Liam turned on his heel, closing the door on his way out. The heels of his shoes clacked against the floor, echoing throughout the hallway. Although he felt content, the negative emotions from earlier still weighed heavily on his heart. He trusted Rina. He knew she wouldn’t betray him. Even so… 

Those feelings lingered during his time at Scala. He did his best to suppress them, smiling and laughing like always with Tom and his colleagues. Still, it didn’t stop him from thinking about Rina. A sweet and kind girl like her shouldn’t continue to be with someone like him. Yet, they had made it this far together. He was reluctant to part ways with her now.  

He was still growing, learning how to love himself slowly but surely. It was all thanks to Rina. If it weren’t for her, if they hadn't met, then he would still be the same him from long ago. Rina meant everything to him. She was the center of his universe. He would do anything to make her happy. 

When it came time to leave the theater, he bid farewell to Tom and the rest of the individuals present. Afterwards, he opted to visit the flower shop he often frequented, the very same establishment where he had purchased modern roses for Rina many times. Grasping the bouquet firmly with one hand, he proceeded to make his way back to Crown Castle. 

Entering the foyer, he walked to Rina's room, unable to contain his smile. He could already picture the joy on her face when he presented her with the bouquet.

“Rina! I’m ba—! Huh?” 

He opened the door with a surge of enthusiasm, but it quickly transformed into surprise as he beheld the breathtaking view before him. Standing there was Rina, donned in a stunning blue dress, with her jet-black hair elegantly tied into a low ponytail cascading down the right side of her shoulder.

She caught sight of him, taken aback by the unexpected outburst. A shy smile then graced her face as she clasped her hands together. “Oh. Hi, Liam.”

“That dress… Where did you get it from?” He asked curiously, slowly stepping towards her, his gaze still fixated on her attire.

“Well… I saw it when we were at Leadenhall Market earlier. After you left, I went back with Ellis and bought it. After that, the maids helped me put it on and styled my hair. And then, I waited for you.” Rina tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, lowering her chin in a bashful manner. “Do you like it?” 

Liam nodded, his eyes forming gentle creases of delight. “Yeah. It looks really good on you. You look like a princess.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Really.”

Rina breathed a sigh of relief, briefly shutting her eyes. “Phew… That’s good. It’s kinda embarrassing wearing something like this, but… I wanted to do it for you.”

“For me?” Liam echoed, tilting his head.

“Mhm-hm. You always give me a lot of things. Like roses and letters. You even tried to grow some flowers before too. That made me really happy. I wanted to do the same thing for you. So, I thought surprising you like this would make you happy.” 

Liam gazed at her in astonishment, his jaw dropping. He couldn't fathom that she had done such a thing. Then again, he couldn't ignore the fact that she had also gifted him an arrangement of modern roses before, which had brought him immense joy that words couldn't express. That same feeling of happiness overwhelmed him now. He was grateful that she had thought of him.

All the bad feelings that had consumed him vanished completely. He was able to take deep breaths once more.

With a gentle smile forming at the corners of his mouth, he enveloped Rina into a hug, encircling his arm around her waist. “Thank you. I’m happy. Really, really happy.” Realizing that he was still holding the bouquet, he gently pulled back to hand it to her. “Here. This is for you.” 

Giggling, Rina took the bouquet from him and held it close to her heart, inhaling the delightful scent emanating from the roses. “Thank you.” Carefully, she set it onto her desk and returned to Liam’s side, nestling her cheek against his chest and embracing him tightly, savoring the comforting aroma of vanilla that filled her nose.

Liam returned the embrace, resting his chin on top of her head. After a few moments of silence, he spoke in a soft and husky voice. “Hey… Since you wore this dress for me, can I do whatever I want with it?” 

“Of course you can." Rina responded with a bashful smile, her face reddening. She knew exactly what was going to happen from here on out. 

“Hm… Then, in that case…” 

Without warning, Liam enveloped Rina's waist with one arm and slid the other beneath her thighs, carrying her to her bed as if she were a bride. With utmost care, he delicately placed her onto the soft sheets, hovering above her. “Ah… You’re so cute. I’ll give you lots of love.”

Lowering himself, he pressed his lips against hers, capturing her breath with each stolen kiss. The kisses were filled with fervor and intensity, a clear reflection of their deep affection. Pulling back, Liam looked down at Rina, his eyes shining with excitement, their vibrant magenta color captivating. His hand moved up her side, reaching the delicate lace border of her dress, and finally entwined his fingers with hers as he reached her hand, which rested near her head.

“Please stay by my side forever, Rina. I… I was scared that you were going to leave me earlier. That you didn't love me anymore.” He confessed, his eyes revealing the fear and concern he had been hiding. “I don't want to let you go. I love you. I love you so much.”

Rina gazed at him, surprised. She then furrowed her brows, guilt welling up inside her. Using her free hand, she caressed Liam’s cheek with a gentle touch, brushing her thumb across his skin. “I'm sorry, Liam. I didn't mean to make you sad. I'll never leave you. I promise.”

With those comforting words, Liam smiled and proceeded to kiss her repeatedly, enveloping them both in a night filled with love and pleasure. He pressed his body against hers as if they were two pieces of a puzzle fitting perfectly into place.

The passion between them ignited into something fierce and all-consuming, each kiss deeper than the last, each touch more intense than before. It felt like an explosion of emotions – raw desire mixed with tenderness and utter devotion – all wrapped up into one powerful moment that left them both breathless and utterly captivated with each other.

In that moment, time seemed to stand still – all else faded into oblivion except for their love which grew stronger with every passing second.

[marianosbrixton]

call my bluff, call you babe; dtk + wilbur

pairings: sapnap, dream, georgenotfound, wilbur soot, karl jacobs x reader (separate)

summary: pet names i think various mcyts would call you

warnings: one swear word in sapnap’s section, suggestive content in dream’s, one mention of eating in wilbur and karl’s, none otherwise!

a/n: this is my first time writing on this blog! i hope you enjoy it, feel free to send requests!

masterlist | navigation

sapnap

darlin’, babe, cutie

✧ i can imagine sapnap being a big advocate for pet names, because why wouldn’t he be? he loves you, and he wants you to know

✧ sapnap says darlin’ with the g cut off because he’s southern and i said so (also because i’m emotionally attached to liam from the darkest minds)

✧ like, you’d pass him something he asked for a few seconds prior and he’d be like “thank you, darlin’“ with a slightly exaggerated southern drawl because if you’re anything like me, you’re obsessed with it and he knows that. or you’d be on the phone with him, about to hang up, and he’d say “alright, darlin’, love you”. it’s just such a casual thing to him that he’d say it whenever.

✧ i feel like babe is just an easy one to throw out mid-sentence, it’s also not too heavy in terms of PDA so it’s a harmless one to say on stream or in front of friends. long story short, i can definitely see sapnap being a babe guy

✧ “hey, babe, have you seen my [insert random object here]?” or “babe, you’ll never guess what this bitch just said to me” (the bitch in question is naturally either punz or george)

✧ we’ve heard him call karl cutie enough times that there’s no doubt in my mind that he’d say it all the time. there’s also that clip from george’s first cooking stream (you know the one), so i think that at any given moment he’d take one look at you and just be like “you look so cute”

✧ or he’d pull you into a hug and go “come here, cutie”

dream

baby, angel, pretty girl/boy/one

✧ dream strikes me as a baby person. to me, baby feels a lot more intimate than babe, and i think he would like that.

✧ whether it’s a casual “hi, baby” or a whiny “babyyyy, give me cuddles,” he’d probably use it every other sentence.

✧ angel is a word i can imagine dream using both during and after those kinds of activities. like, you’d be mid act and he’d do something that would knock the wind out of you and drive you absolutely wild, and he’d go “yeah? s’that good, angel?”

✧ and then after the fact, you’d be pressed against him, completely out of breath, and he’d be running his fingers softly down your spine to try to coax you back to the mortal realm and he’d softly say to you, “how’re you doing, angel?”

✧ pretty girl/boy/one is one i picture him saying during moments where you very much do not feel pretty. like, for example, after you’ve just woken up, and your hair is an absolute mess, you can barely keep your eyes open, and you feel there’s no possible way anybody can find you attractive, dream’s there to prove you wrong as he says, “g’morning pretty girl/boy/one” except he says it all gravelly and stuff because everybody loves a good morning voice. 

✧ or maybe you’ve had food poisoning or the flu or something and you’ve been throwing up your internal organs for approximately three to five business days, and you physically couldn’t feel worse if you tried, but here comes your golden retriever boyfriend with his loving eyes and a sympathetic “oh, i’m sorry, pretty girl/boy/one” as he rubs his hand down your back. i wouldn’t be surprised if whatever illness you had cleared up immediately.

george

little baby, love, snookums

✧ george doesn’t strike me as someone who uses pet names an awful lot, but i imagine he’d throw them out here and there

✧ you know that one clip of george showing the stream his dog and he was holding her and he went “little baby”, i feel like he’d definitely say that while hugging/cuddling you

✧ let’s set the scene; it’s freezing, and you’re wrapped up in more blankets than you can count, and he’d just kinda cradle you to his chest and coo, half joking, half not, “awww, little baby”

✧ george is english so i think legally he has to call you love or the queen will show up at his house with a machine gun and start shooting. whatever the english version of the secret service is will have snipers lined up outside of his window and then he drops a “thank you, love” and they back off

✧ typing the word snookums is causing me physical pain but i put it on the list because i feel like george is the type of person who would feel genuine disgust when using super sappy pet names, but also he’d do it to be funny

✧ like maybe you’d point out how little he uses them so he’d start overusing them to tease you, like “here’s your dinner, snookums” with an unfathomably exaggerated kiss on your cheek, or “would you like me to refill your water, honeybear?” with the most mocking tone you’ve ever heard

✧ it’s all in good humour though, because he does love you, and you both know it

wilbur

my love, darling, my baby

✧ this man has pet names coming out of his ears

✧ similar to george, legally as an english person, wilbur has to call you my love or the entire royal family will put a bounty on his head. however, i do believe that he says it every second word, so he’s safe for now

✧ if someone gave you a dollar for every time wilbur’s said some variation of, “have you eaten yet, my love?” or “let’s go to sleep, my love” you’d be rich (unless you aren’t from a country that uses dollars, in which case you’ll have to find something to do with all those dollars)

✧ if they also gave you a dollar for every time will called you darling, you’d be a billionaire by the end of the week. i don’t think i need to remind you of that clip of him flirting with quackity before mcc but i will anyway. i don’t make the rules, your name is darling now

✧ from dumb questions like “darling, would you still love me if i was a mouse?” to “i’ve missed you, my darling” after being apart from you for like ten minutes, sometimes you’re convinced he’s forgotten your real name

✧ my baby is one of those ones that i see him using half as a joke and half not. i feel like it would stem from “little baby man”, like one day he’d call you that because he’s a giant and you’re inevitably shorter than him (unless you’re not, in which case i’m afraid of you), and eventually it would turn into “little baby” and then because it’s will, one day he’d, in a similar fashion to george, pull you into his chest and coo, “my baby”

✧ i just feel like he’d be so unbelievably in love with you and so full of adoration that he’d just want to tell you every second of every day, and that would manifest as him pressing a kiss to your hair and softly whispering, “my baby”

karl 

honey, sweet girl/boy/one, my angel

✧ i’m not sure how to explain it but karl just gives off honey energy. 1950′s housewife vibes, you know?

✧ like he’d be going off about pokémon cards (as he does), and if you’re like me and you sorta just don’t get it, you’d be smiling and nodding because even if you don’t completely understand it, you love him and he’s happy and that’s good enough for you. he’d get animatedly excited about a particular card and he’d just be like, “oh my god, honey, you don’t even realise how big this is”

✧ or the two of you would be just casually talking and he’d start jokingly teasing/making fun of you, and even though you aren’t actually upset, you’d make a big show of walking away from him, at which point he’d grab you by the waist and pull you into a hug and say “aww, i’m sorry, honey” while doing that laugh (you know the one)

✧ sweet girl/boy/one is a name that i imagine him calling you after you’ve done something nice for him. like, maybe you noticed that he hadn’t had any water for a bit or that he hadn’t eaten lunch yet, so you’d bring him something, and he’d be so grateful that he says “thank you, sweet girl/boy/one” with so much love in his voice that you know he genuinely appreciates it

✧ or you’d compliment his outfit or something because you think it looks good and he’d smile at you and reply “you think so? thanks, sweet girl/boy/one”

✧ karl’s called sapnap “my angel” more times than i can count, so i have no doubt in my mind that he’d say it to you too. you’d do something particularly adorable and i feel like his brain would just short circuit with how much love he has for you and the only words he could string together would be “my angel” because you are his angel, whether you like it or not

✧ another time i think he’d say it is when you’re cuddled into his chest, so tired it’s unbelievable, yet still fighting off sleep because you want to stay up and hang out with him. he sees this, and he pulls you closer, presses a kiss to the crown of your head, and mumbles “go to sleep, my angel”

✧ karl jacobs give me a hug challenge

[stopeatingwhales]

the 1995 brits x damon albarn & liam gallagher

hhhiiii I'm here with a very cute little fic about the brits!! the idea of writing something with Damon and liam fighting over someone was requested quite a long time ago (sorry it’s taken so long omg) but I loved the idea!! I do hope you all enjoy it as I enjoyed writing it a lot hahah xx

Pairing: 90s damon albarn & 90s liam gallagher x reader

Warnings: nothing, just a little bit of bickering n dat

Word count: 3.057

Requested by anon x

༉‧₊˚✧

Being a part of the madness that adapted the name ‘Britpop’ was truly an experience. Paparazzi at every corner you turn, equipped with the brightest, flashiest cameras, also having the most annoying click noises to the point that after one image you’ve earned yourself a migraine that would last the entirety of the day; parties that would last entire nights, bearing millions of different kinds of drugs - some that hadn’t even been given a name yet, but you’d still give a try anyways, since you’re so high and drunk that you simply lose the intellectual capability to construct decisions, you say fuck it, and get so high to the point that you’ve blacked out in a booth in a bar, with the owner asking you to get out since you’ve been inside for one too many hours after closing time; as well as constant press coverage. With your name plastered over literally every newspaper and music magazine known to man, as well as having your entire life consistently dictated for the entire nation to read about every Sunday morning and indulge themselves into as a form of entertainment, it was what being famous delivered, right on your doorstep at 7 in the morning. Any earlier and you’d feel rude not to give them a cup of tea as a form of dignity and respect towards their sublime dedication to the job. Although it was fun being associated with it all, my band in particular gaining a different form of calidity due to it being a female fronted band, by the time that the entire nation was hooked on this ‘Blur vs. Oasis’ rivalry, it was as if every other britpop band had been washed away from existence, due to eight boys arguing as to whom had the better music. And the better looks, according to Liam Gallagher.

Tonight was the night of the Brit awards, perhaps the most prestigious awards ceremony for music. To be awarded a Brit was probably the largest achievement possible in British music in the form of an award, and it was definitely either going tonight to either Blur or Oasis. The chances that another band, say Pulp, were to get the award, would not only be extremely amusing to see the reactions of the two biggest names in the Britpop game, but would also cause the largest uproar in the nation. It’s either Blur or Oasis. “Their drama is so silly,” laughed Emily, the guitarist in our band whilst flicking through the latest edition of the Sun, the cover of the newspaper being, of course, Liam Gallagher. “They’re literally bickering about who looks the best. How do people find this interesting?”

“Because of how silly it is, people never leave their secondary-school-like selves. Just a bit of fun I guess.” I replied, fixing up my hair in the mirror in front of me. We were currently getting ready to go to the award show, and needing to look your best was an expectation. Though I wasn’t dressed in anything that would result in jaw’s dropping, it was important that I at least appeared somewhat admirable - the entire nation always had their eyes on us, but tonight they were going to see us all, live. Perhaps the reason why bands like Oasis and Blur are so obsessed over nowadays, since all they’ll do is turn up in some flimsy Adidas t-shirt and call that fashion. I suppose scruffy was the new elegant.

“Who do you think they’ll give the award to?” she questioned, still aimlessly flicking through the recycled pages of the magazine. “I think Oasis. Their music is so much better than Blurs.”

“Really? I’d say Blur. They won on top of the pops, so the likelihood of them winning the Brit award is highly likely,” I answered, shuffling away from the strong reflection of myself towards Emily, my eyes quickly scanning the page that she had her eye on currently. “Gosh Liam’s so full of himself.”

“He’s got his eye on you, you know,” She said, shoving the paragraph she had just read in my face of Liam boasting about his little crush he had supposedly gained from watching our latest performance on top of the pops. “Thinks you’re ‘well fit’.”

Scoffing in response, I mumbled back to Emily. “If he thinks that he’s sleeping with me, he’s very deluded.”

By the time we had arrived at the venue, you weren’t able to walk into the entrance without at least 50 cameras blinding your eyes and the shouts of so many begging for you to quickly turn your head and grin - the price for the photo would reach the many thousands. Once walking in, it was less crowded, only having select people by the ground floor, dedicated for musicians and bands, with the occasional interviewer walking past to every circled table, adorned with white cloth and champagne glasses, asking questions about how they’re feeling, who they think may win, and what they thought of the music throughout the past year. What was nice was that people didn’t have that much interaction with one another, just with their groups. It created a sense of formality in the space, which made me feel a bit at ease from the idea of some random row happening in the middle of the floor, most likely between Liam and Damon. The past year in music was truly something. Britpop was at its peak the entirety of the year, with songs like Parklife and Supersonic pouring out of every radio station in Britain that by the end of the year, you had ditched casual radio music and began blasting the classical station. It was a nightmare. Since the fall of grunge subsequent to Cobain’s death the previous year, the talk of any other genre in Britain apart from Britpop didn’t occur. It was as if we were living on this mystical island, miles away from any other music and culture, whilst adorning and obsessing over our own. What was nice about Britpop was that it was a pure celebration of English culture, whether it be a simple Sunday roast, or going to school, they all carried the same ambience of nostalgia and pride - also disregarding whichever band wrote what song.

“Free champagne… Yes please,” said Madeline, the secondary guitarist of the band, whilst heading to the first seat she could sit on, then quickly indulging herself with the first taste of the rich drink. “Oh my gosh it’s heavenly!”

Laughing at her reaction, the rest of the band took a seat around the table and took their first sips of the champagne, which we would all come to find to be indeed heavenly. Small talk was shared here and there with the rest of the group, but overall I stayed silent. In all honesty I found attending award shows was quite boring because if you didn’t end up getting an award, you would essentially be sitting there for two hours doing nothing. Even if you did win an award, it’s simply a minute of glory with the speakers blasting your music, and another minute of all eyes piercing into your soul as you make sentences about your gratitude towards those who had helped you along the way to earn such an achievement. I doubt anybody genuinely liked attending shows like these.

“The champagne is good, yet we don’t get enough for our table,” I complained, grasping my now empty champagne glass and waving it around in the air. “I’m gonna head to the bar to get a refill, anybody want anything?”

After receiving a handful of nos from the rest of the band, I took myself out of my seat and wandered over to the bar, which was empty, perhaps due to the venue not yet being completely filled with all the artists that were set to attend the night. “Just a refill of the champagne, please.” I asked politely, handing the bartender the used glass I had kept in my hand. Whilst waiting, I noticed that Damon was on the other side of the bar, who also didn’t notice me there, until he caught eyes with me.

A grin broke out on his face as I walked over to him. “You alright?” He asked me, quickly thanking the bartender for his drink and turning back to look at me. The height difference between us was evident, but it wasn’t the case of something so dramatic that he was the height of the empire state building and me, just a measly common tower in the city. He looked quite content, his hair scruffy yet neat, along with his outfit being just as I had assumed: a white shirt with jeans, a used pair of Adidas for shoes.

I smiled back at him and nodded. “Suppose you have high hopes for the award tonight.” I said, simultaneously receiving my refill of the beverage I had ordered, followed by my thanks. We stood adjacent, although there was enough distance between us to establish our relationship - mutual acquaintances whom had met every now and again, since they’ve both been dragged into this wormhole of madness. He was quite the opposite in comparison to his rivals, though he himself could be quite bothersome occasionally, he still had a grasp to what those may call sensibility.

“Oh well we’re better than them, aren’t we love?'' He chirped, his head now cocked to the side in a teasing manner. “I’ve heard that you’re rooting for us this year.” He added, a little smirk pasted on his face.

“Do you read every paper you see?” I questioned, my face turning away from him in slight embarrassment. Between us, there was no shared intention for a relationship to stem, though there was definitely a flirtatious tension that followed between us wherever we had met. Whether it be a random photoshoot for a magazine double-spread, or backstage at top of the pops, we always managed to share a chat with one another, and nothing else followed on from then. It was quite sad, because once you’ve established a connection between something you either both disagree or agree with in terms of societal views, something in the press, or life in general, you’re instantaneously cut off and asked to hop onto stage to record a meaningless three-minute performance with fake, plastic instruments which practically mean nothing.

“Well it was nice seeing someone else's face on the papers for once.” He replied, downing his drink, then ushering at the bartender for another. A thing that we both realised was that, between our conversations, we indirectly indicated that we were both there for each other, because we both had a complete understanding towards what may be happening to the other person. It was stressful being in the limelight constantly, and for someone who was the frontman of a band so large, with his face plastered on every magazine cover imaginable, things were bound to be stressful.

Sighing, I turned to face him again. Despite the fact that before I had the ability to respond, our conversation was cut short from a voice shouting my name from behind. “Well if it isn’t bloody Y/N.” the voice said, and from then I instantly knew it was Liam’s. Turning my face away from Damon’s, I locked eyes with Liam. As always, he was dressed in the usual: a parka, with casual jeans. Oh, and don’t forget the Adidas shoes. Even though he and Damon practically hated each other’s guts, they always seemed to have similar fashion senses, but I could never picture Damon in a parka. And I don’t think I even want to.

“How’ve you been love?” He asked, swinging his arm around my shoulder in a warm, but nonchalant manner. Me and Liam had a similar relationship to that of mine and Damons, simply just minusing the sentimentality of it. We were friends, and had come across each other at random parties, which opened the gateway for us to drink and get high together many a time. While he was quite the idiot, he was also a very fun guy to be around, but I knew Damon would never understand that. “And why’re you letting this twat chat to you?”

A laugh escaped Damon’s throat. “I think you’re the only twat here, Liam,” he began, a sigh leaving my mouth as I was trapped in a situation that I could only pray didn’t gain much traction from the rest of the attendees. “Me and Y/N are friends, don’t suppose we’re getting jealous are we?”

Liam’s grip on my shoulder tightened as I stared at his reaction to Damon. I felt quite small in this situation, due to me needing to tilt my head a good amount to properly look at Liam, and knowing if I left it would just erupt chaos and make it worse. “No need for me to be jealous when I know that she wouldn’t want to spend a minute with you in bed you bastard.”

“And you’re so sure about that are you?” Damon replied, amusement laced in his words. “Because you’ve totally spent a minute with her haven’t you?”

“Well I’ve got my arm around her haven’t I? And she’s not stopping me,” Liam argued back, a smirk entwined on his lips. Reaching for my hand, Liam grasped it lightly, then then brought it to his lips, kissing it, before holding it gently. Method of intimidation, perhaps, and though it was sweet, there was a time and place. And this was definitely neither the time, or place. “Who’s the jealous one now, eh?”

“The last I recall, she had hoped that we were winning this year, not you,” He boasted, moving the contents of his drink around whilst grasping it firmly. Whilst it would be something that would offend Liam, he was simply the type of person to not take criticism regardless of whomever it was coming from. I respected him for that. “So much so for a healthy relationship.” Damon mocked, staring into my eyes as a small laugh escaped my lips.

Granted that I had found the argument shared between the pair of them to be extremely silly, it was good entertainment as the time passed before the award show would begin. Watching them both, attempting to throw insults at one another, each one trying to cut a little deeper than the one previous, made me almost laugh at the both of them right there. “You know, it’s so silly that you both think you know me so well to think which one I’d pick from the both of you,” I said, detaching myself from Liam’s embrace and snatching my half-empty glass of champagne. “At this point, it’s neither of you.”

Walking back to my band’s designated table, I quietly took my seat as the show began. “Saw you chatting to Damon,” Emily whispered, raising her eyebrows. “Also saw you grinning like a madwoman.”

“Oh shut up you,” I replied, looking back at the bar to notice that both parties had left, assuming back to their places. “There’s nothing going on between me and Damon- Liam too in fact.”

~~~

As the ceremony went on, the boredom got to us. Even the amount of drinks I had didn’t entertain me, but what could we do, we were stuck in the middle of an award show celebrating music, even though I had largely doubted that the majority of those attending were enjoying themselves. I had no clue who the awards were going to be handed out to, and whether that somebody may be us in a category, but we all knew Blur were going to win something. Yes, Oasis had gained a lot of fame and had become one of the most famous bands in the music scene at the minute, but by the way things had gone for Blur after the release of Parklife, things only seemed to go further up from there. And that was only proven to be truthful, after Blur had left with four different awards.

After Blur had received their fourth award for best British group, we all knew that there was nothing left for Oasis. “They’ll get it all next year, they only debuted this year you know.” I said to the table, who were staring at the four smiley boys on stage as they trotted up to receive their award. I admired Damon as he said his speech, then also turning to look over at Liam, who looked quite evidently pissed off. He was practically drooling in anger from the sight brought to him at that particular moment, and I couldn’t blame him - their band hadn't gone home with one award that night, but neither had ours. “They’ve taken four awards home, isn’t that like, the most anybody has ever taken?”

“Indeed it is,” Madeline replied, taking a sip from her drink. “Must be a good year for them then, eh?”

As I watched the band leave the stage in absolute glee, I stared at Damon as he walked back to his designated seat for the short remainder of the evening. Despite the fact that my band had been sat in our seats the entire evening in complete boredom, just like Oasis and so many other acts that had been nominated for pointless awards, it would be a lie to say that I wasn’t proud of how far Blur as a whole had come and evolved through their music, and especially Damon. From beginning as young, bowl-cut boys only charting so far on top of the pops, to creating songs and melodies that could unite our entire nation, it was impressive.

Damon was the face of Britain at this very moment, and a very good looking one. Once I watched him sit down, he scanned the room for a while until he was able to find where I was sitting, which was parallel to his seat, merely a couple metres away. He connected eyes with me as soon as he found me, also accompanied with a small smirk painted on his expression as he raised his eyebrows and sent me a wink. I simply smiled back at him in response before turning away abruptly, disrupting the little moment we seemingly shared, and though I felt my heart flutter a little, he’s definitely not winning me that easily.

[1ddiscourseoftheday]

Sat 6 March ‘21

Weekends slow for news? Not on Louis’ watch!! He apparently got up this Saturday and was like it is time to make some fucking waves, let’s GO. “I always dreamed of having my own label,” he tweeted, “having an imprint never really worked for me because I still had to have someone else's blessing to sign people. People I believed in massively but unfortunately didn't fit the traditional pop role hence never doing the deals.... So I've decided to put it out there in the world today. I'm going to start my own music management company to help develop new artists. Watch this space. I just wanted to take the first step of actualising the idea but at this stage that's all this is. An idea!” Louis we are literally always watching this space and this is why, you truly never fail to exceed our hopes at every turn. “P.s. a management company not a label,” he adds, tuned in to the discourse as always, “sometimes action is needed first to encourage the motivation and belief” (about where he’s at in the process), and he’s quick to reassure that his own touring and music won’t be affected-- “no.”

He is really thinking about what he dealt with and seeing other people still dealing with it and taking steps to do something about it while using and building on his experience and strengths (to say nothing of his connections and well earned clout)! God knows with his experience he’s more qualified than 90% of the people who start these things, with his decade of being steeped in the industry and having the background under his belt of both being the point person wrangling on behalf of the biggest band in the literal world and of seeing firsthand the barriers standing in the way of less established artists, as he’s spoken about on multiple occasions; including last year when he talked about the imprint he tried to start many years ago but wasn’t able to get off the ground due to Syco’s lack of cooperation, saying “The kind of artists I was interested in developing- because I genuinely feel that through my experience in 1D, you know, one of the biggest fucking bands, I feel like I’ve learned a lot about the industry- they weren’t ready made. I had a lot of artists I took through the door that were rough and ready, but major labels want to see something that works straight away. I found that a little demotivating.” But maybe the most recent time he talked about it was when he played Copy of a Copy of a Copy for us? If management companies had theme songs, that should certainly be this one’s! I can’t think of one single person I’d rather have on my side as a young artist than Louis, anyone he signs will be so lucky both in the support they get and to get access to the built in audience he brings to anything he touches (that’s us!)-- and there’s no one I’d rather have out there finding new artists for me to listen to, he’s got SUCH a good ear for both what’s truly good and what will sell.

So who will these lucky signees be? I mean first of all it’s clearly wildly premature to speculate about that, but I do see people speculating about two folks in particular--  1) Liam and 2) Louis himself. I gotta tell you I don’t think either of these is at all likely (or desirable?). Aside from the fact that I don’t think the kind of music Liam makes is at all what Louis is looking to do with his company (nor the fact that Liam is already an established artist) surely it would be really weird and kind of inappropriate for either of them to be the other’s boss? I mean is Liam fine with just handing over control of the business side of his things, yes, but I just don’t think this idea is at all plausible. And as for Louis being his own client-- that’s just not really what management is? I suppose there are ways he could build his company to serve himself but I very much doubt that’s what he means by this at this time; it seems pretty clear to me that he wants to do what he has always wanted to do, to use his loyal fanbase as a way to lift up small indie bands and artists he discovers who have the kind of Brit rock sound he loves.

In any case, if he’s looking for support from high places for his project (not that there was any chance of it being lacking, people KNOW Louis and are always looking to see what he’s doing) being able to point at a half million notes on a casual announcement tweet is a good way to start eh? Indeed, the hype (articles all over and industry people posting about it and commenting) and people posting that they’d love to get involved are already pouring in! I wonder if he talked with Niall about his experience of starting a management company while thinking about this, and whether Louis will also bring in a partner who already works in that field like Niall did.

Meanwhile someone posted a video of a girl blowing out candles on a One Direction cake while arm in arm with a life size Louis cutout and... Zayn’s mom?? Apparently the girl’s mom is friends with Trisha Malik and she and Zayn’s sisters (and neice Zaneyeh!) were at the party-- later they got Zayn on the phone and he facetimed with the starstruck newly 14 year old girl. Louis followed another spon-con account, Charlie Lightening posted a really cute pic of him from DLIBYH video filming, Louis also said oh yeah I’m still working on new merch I’ll let you know about that, though with so little conviction he didn’t even finish the sentence, and Liam’s sister posted about looking forward to sharing their postponed Christmas with him.

[violet-t-9]

My take on why Caleb doesn’t trust Astrid and Eadwulf

Why does Caleb not trust Astrid even though she helped the M9 multiple times by now and let them leave? Well, Liam has always kept good track of what happened in previous episodes of the campaign and I believe Caleb was drawing information from all his previous encounters with Astrid and Eadwulf, so here is just some highlights on what they know about them so far. This is another long post. Again, all quotes are not exact and straight from my memory. This is just my biased personal interpretations so take it as you will.

To illustrate my points, I recommend that you watch the Narrative Telephone episode Widogast’s Web of Words. It described the three of them this way:

1. Eadwulf as the boy whose mind was eaten, and he had “no mind of his own”.

2. Astrid as the girl whose eye was cut out, and she “never saw true again”.

3. Caleb as the boy whose heart was swallowed he “never knew love again”.

1. Eadwulf: From all the interactions we have seen with Eadwulf in it, he always appeared to defer to Astrid/Trent and this very much reminded me of the “no mind of his own” aspect. He “looks to Astrid” for what to do for multiple situations, and is clearly pretty content to be a follower. Otherwise, Eadwulf didn’t get to interact with Caleb a lot in general so to Caleb he must still be kind of an enigma. Whenever Eadwulf did answer Caleb’s questions he seemed like he was pretty content in his role as a Volstrucker as well and was pretty nonchalant about his job (basically talking about it like a summer job and very casually) without showing any hesitancy about what he does/carrying out his missions. His apparent association with the Raven Queen fascinates me and I don’t think Caleb knows what to make of that either. So far from what we’ve seen, Eadwulf clearly still cares about Caleb but also has lost some capacity to think for himself due to the trauma and abuse he suffered. This may also be why Eadwulf could be harder to reach than Astrid in a sense. So far, he has not given any indicator that he doesn’t believe in Trent’s system.

2. Astrid: “never saw true again” gave me the impression of her being “blind” to what is actually right and the true nature of Trent’s system, and given the evidence so far Caleb is right to think she is still buying into Trent’s ideology. When Caleb went to Astrid’s house to talk with her, she apologized and Caleb made a very high insight check. Astrid was “genuinely mournful for his pain” but there is also something “hardened” in her that was more like a “I’m sorry that you have suffered, as many people have, life is suffering and sometimes it is necessary”. Clearly, she on some level believe that what they are doing as Volstruckers to be the right thing. She said she felt guilty about her actions sometimes, but did believe that they were making a necessary sacrifice to protect the rest of the empire. Caleb even remarked that “he blinded you”. Basically, Astrid thought that Trent’s system and ideology is a necessary evil that is ultimately good for the empire because the Volstrucker does hard things so civilians can be safe. However, there is doubt in her, especially since Caleb continued to try to reach her. She made a remark at the dinner episode, something like “what we did was for the greater good... right?” and she sounded uncertain. I do think changing her mind would be easier and she may have started to see the flaw in Trent’s system already. As of right now though, Astrid seems to be already training other Volstruckers (I could be wrong, but she mentioned “tutelage”) and Caleb/Liam’s comment about her buying into the system is clearly not mistaken based on what we have seen from her so far. 

She is also ambitious in a sense that she wants to replace Trent, and she keeps reminding Caleb of that (”race you to the top”, “he is just an old man...”, “it could be an opportunity if you struck first”). She sees Caleb as an opportunity (I think Matt confirmed something about it or about her ambition when the Traveler was analyzing Astrid but can’t quite remember). She clearly doesn’t like Trent, and wants Trent gone, but it doesn’t mean she doesn’t believe in Trent’s system (all evidence suggests she does still buy into it). She also likely wants to use Caleb to further her own goals, and like Fjord said “not in an evil way” but that Caleb defying Trent would be very beneficial/convenient for her own goals. She clearly still cares about Caleb a lot and is happy to see him again, and like I said, this doesn’t mean she is trustworthy. Caleb’s concern is mostly what Astrid would do if she does replace Trent and he is right to assume things wouldn’t change much given Astrid’s belief in the system right now (her mindset of “Volstruckers are necessary and they do the dirty work so the empire can thrive”). Her helping M9 doesn’t really cancel out her ideology, it just shows that she genuinely cares for Caleb. Furthermore, so far Caleb’s presence is good for her goals. We don’t really know what she would do if Caleb appears more a threat than a benefit to her ambitions one day. 

So far, Caleb is the first one to break away from Volstruckers and I do think that gives Astrid hope that Trent can be taken down, but she could very well want to keep the program around if she ever gets in charge after Trent. She is very much dangerous, ambitious, conflicted and fascinating. Her caring for Caleb is clearly not all of her character, she has her own plots and I love her for it (thanks Liam for developing this character) and I love how Matt portrays her.

3. Caleb: another reason why Caleb may not trust his “old friends” is that his heart has very much been broken. “He never knew love again” is an apt description. This is more just interpretation from my part, but I think Caleb has partially lost his ability to trust others and he doesn’t trust anyone outside the M9, his immediate found family and their extended families (it took him a LONG time to trust them as well). Honestly? He is for the most part right to not trust people so far (exhibit A: Essek reveal) and all his paranoia from early episodes have come true, so I would not be surprised that this one does as well. [I wanted to use Yussa as a counter argument for trusting people then I remembered they trusted him with the knowledge of Aeor and he proceeded to yeet himself into the astral sea in 48 hours (the poor man).] 

So yeah, reason 3 is that Caleb is just not a very trusting individual in general. He has expressed that he loved Astrid and Eadwulf, but that feeling has of course faded after more than a decade of not seeing them. He does still care for the both of them, but he does not - and should not - trust them to want to reform the Volstrucker system and change the Empire the way that Caleb wants it changed. 

Now there is clearly still hope that Eadwulf and Astrid can change their mind, especially if Caleb keeps reaching out. Astrid has already shown some hesitancy and reconsideration. They also both helped the M9. I do believe that it is possible for them to eventually see Trent’s system as it is, and they have the capacity to change for the better. Right now though? Yeah, they are still pretty much buying into Trent’s system as far as I can tell. Helping M9, caring for Caleb and wanting Trent dead are separate issues and have nothing to do with what they believe in ideology-wise. I really hope that Caleb does make it back and gets to try reaching out to them again after the whole city thing is dealt with. I am very excited to see where both of these characters will go. They are very complex and fun to think about.

[once-upon-a-pirate-ship]

How Restlessly the Stars Do Gleam 1/?

Here we go! Comment/reblog/share/dm me (always).

Summary: Princess Emma isn't the princess of much anymore. It's been months since her parents and brother were taken, and she's been on the run with her godmother Red (she's a werewolf and doesn't age, whether or not that detail is canon because I honestly can't remember). When Emma and Red board a merchant vessel to sail to Arendelle, Emma quickly finds that the captain is not to be trusted. After helping two slave brothers (Liam and Killian, if you didn't figure that out already), Emma takes over the ship and begins her journey to save and rebuild her kingdom.

We've got action, we've got adventure, we've got the most badass Emma I've ever written--there's tension and brothers and curses and love! What more could you want? (Is it Will Scarlet? Because he's also gonna be in this)

Story rating: M for the violence and stuff (just to be on the safe side because this will probably get dark very quickly) though there will also be other stuff later.

Chapter 1: Unfit for a Princess

Chapter word count: 6.7k (whoops. I know I said 4k, but I couldn't help it)

Read it on AO3

Most people probably would’ve been surprised at the things she’s seen. They certainly hadn’t been fit for a princess, though she wasn’t the princess of much anymore. Her lands had been trampled, her castle destroyed, but what devastated her the most was the loss of her people and the lives taken. Perhaps she could’ve withstood all of that, had her brother and her parents not been stolen from her as well. Months on the run and time wasted spent searching for something she couldn’t even name, but when Emma boarded a merchant vessel with her godmother Red at her side and her sword on her hip, she had to trust that she was headed towards that something.

Captain Silver never would’ve been her first pick. But his ship was one of the few that still sailed her kingdom’s waters, and his papers claimed allegiance to her parents. It was the first they’d found in the weeks they’d watched the port.

Silver was a slimy fellow, broad shoulders and yellowing teeth and he leered at Emma and Red from his place at the helm.

“We can’t exactly be choosy, Emma,” Red murmured, but by the way her eyes flashed when she glanced back at the captain, she’d been thinking the same thing.

Emma scanned the deck rather than focus on Silver, her eyes flitting from person to person as she surveyed the crew and their movements. Her gut tangled itself into a knot at the scene before her, though there was nothing innately wrong about anything she saw.

But Emma had spent her whole life training. Her father had put a sword in her hand as soon as she was big enough to hold it on her own. Her mother followed with a bow not long after. Tracking, fighting, surviving—these lessons were interwoven between court etiquette classes and political strategy lectures. Her parents had taught her to trust her instincts, and that feeling in her stomach told her that something wasn’t right.

“Let’s just keep our heads down and get to Arendelle,” Red advised, her voice cool. Emma’s godmother was a fiery woman, a force of nature who didn’t need her wolf form to take down men twice her size. But she was also her only counsel, the only one who had made it out of the attack.

And she was right, of course. Emma knew that. But Emma also knew that men like Silver were not to be trusted, and if there’s ever a case where one should keep their head up, it’s when someone untrustworthy is nearby.

It only took her a few hours to learn what made her skin crawl.

Emma emerged from below deck, her hand itching to reach for her sword on instinct the second she met the eyes of one of the crew. Red had stayed below, encouraging Emma to stretch her legs and take some air above, but it wasn’t the relaxing scene she’d expected.

Silver towered over a man on his knees, and the captain’s disgusting expression revealed something vindictive in his manner.

“Captain, I’m sorry, he was only—”

Silver’s hand was quick, cutting off the pleading man with a smack to his jaw. The punch was enough to knock the man over, a quiet groan of pain falling from his lips as another rushed to his aid.

This man’s glare came from sharp blue eyes that were partially shadowed by the dark hair that fell onto his forehead. “It was my fault, Captain, you needn’t punish my brother for my mistakes.” His words were firm, clear, but edged with desperation that felt too familiar to one particular observer.

Captain Silver chuckled, shaking his head at the man before him. “Twenty lashes wasn’t enough to teach you before, boy. Perhaps if it’s your brother who takes them this time, you’ll learn.” The captain waved a hand, and two of his crew grabbed the man by the arms, dragging him away from his brother.

Several feet away on the deck behind, Emma remained perfectly still, but it wasn’t fear, shock, or unwillingness to intervene that had her so.

The brother pushed himself up, cool resolve settling over his features. They were softer than his brother’s, his hair lighter and slightly curled, but his eyes were the same piercing blue. Those eyes tightened when he was ordered to turn, but it disappeared when he caught sight of his brother—younger, by the looks of it—kneeling at the other end of the main deck, his shoulders braced by the captain’s men as he was made to watch.

“No!” the younger cried, watching in horror as Silver pulled the whip into his hand.

But before the lash could connect with his brother’s back, its path was obstructed, wrapping around the blade of a sword. Emma tugged, the whip slipping from Silver’s grasp and flying into her hands.

She had waited—for Silver to be more distracted, for the men to least expect interference, for the perfect opening—and then she had slipped from the quarterdeck to prevent the monstrous act from taking place.

“Please, tell me exactly what you thought you were going to do just now,” she said, and although her voice did not boom across the deck, it was fire and ice, and it sliced through the ears of anyone within range.

The captain turned to face her, his eyes angry despite his smile. “Come now, Princess,” Silver cooed, “you shouldn’t be on deck for this.”

It was almost a warning, nearly a threat, and Emma narrowed her eyes. “Answer me, Silver.”

He smirked, glancing around at his men before returning his attention to her. “What, a man doesn’t have the right to punish his own slave? Is that what your kingdom has come to?” he asked innocently, laughter lacing his tone.

If Emma had looked around, she would’ve seen the surprised and curious looks of the crew and the slaves in question, but her gaze was focused only on the captain. “If you knew anything about this kingdom, Captain, you’d know that slavery is prohibited and punishable by death.” She did not tremble, did not raise her voice, did not allow her immense rage to overpower her.

The captain scowled, his eyes hardening as he reached for his cutlass. “You’re out of your depth, Princess,” he spat.

“Am I?” she asked, her tone imitating the clueless princess they believed she was, cocking her head to the side. “Perhaps you really know nothing about my kingdom, because there’s another thing you should know.” She paused, and maybe it was for the dramatic effect, but she was her father’s daughter, so no one could really blame her. “If you draw your weapon against me, you’ll lose it before you have a chance to blink,” she promised. If anything, her voice had gotten quieter, but there was no doubt that she was heard across the deck.

It seemed, however, that Silver was one of those ‘see it to believe it’ types, because he didn’t take her at her word. She moved as soon as the sound of scraping metal reached her ears, and a few steps and a simple twist of her wrist had his cutlass thudding against the deck.

“Now do you believe me?” she asked. “Or would you like a more detailed demonstration?”

Silver growled, but he’d barely taken a step before Emma’s quick feet had her behind him, the hilt of her sword bashing into his skull and knocking him clean out. She could’ve given him a real fight, but it wasn’t worth the energy. And there were other, greater concerns she had at the moment.

When she turned to face the open-mouthed men, she caught sight of Red who leaned casually against some rigging, a nod and a small, encouraging smile sent from her godmother for her to continue.

“I hereby strip Captain Silver of his rank and his ship,” Emma announced. “As his crew, I ask you to join me on my journey to Arendelle. If anyone has a problem with this leadership change, I’ll be happy to lock you in the brig beside Silver.” No one moved, either too stunned or too enraptured by the princess to do anything.

She cleared her throat, “Now, unless there are any questions, I suggest you all get back to work.” It must’ve been her regal voice that made them all comply so willingly. Her mother had trained it into her just as harshly as she had trained her to shoot and curtsey. It was, in many aspects, a well-rounded education.

Red threw her a grin, Emma signaling her to dispose of Silver. And just like that, she kindly rid the deck of the scum that was the former captain.

Once he was gone, Emma turned back to the brothers. She studied them for a moment, resheathing her sword as she did. Both were still wide-eyed, though the younger was now sitting of his own volition, but neither of them seemed to have fully processed the turn of events.

The elder recovered from his shock quickly. “Thank you, Your Highness,” he told her, his head bowed.

Emma’s fierce anger and all of her noble posture disappeared as she took in the man who still knelt before her, the look in his eye and the hunch of his shoulders. And then that other thing her mother had taught her, kindness, rose to the surface and softened her gaze.

“And what is your name, sir?”

The man fumbled, blinking up at her. “Liam, Your Highness. Liam Jones.”

“Well, Liam, think nothing of it. What kind of ruler would I be if I allowed such horrors to continue?” She offered him a hand, but he just stared at it. “Let me help you,” she said softly.

“I am already indebted to you, Your Highness, my brother and I, we can’t possibly—”

She grabbed his protesting hand, forcing him to his feet. “There now,” she said, “that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Emma smiled, ignoring his flabbergasted expression and moving instead to the brother. He stared up at her, and it seemed to her that he was peering directly into her soul. When she offered him her hand, he took it.

“And your name, sir?”

“Killian Jones, Your Highness.” Emma’s lips twitched, and though she still hated the way her title sounded, she found that she didn’t hate it quite so much when it came from this man.

Emma stepped back, watching as Liam crossed to his brother, and their embrace had her missing hers. She sighed, tossing the whip unceremoniously overboard before facing Red who had appeared from below.

“How fares our guest?”

“Oh, I’ve ensured that his journey will be as uncomfortable as possible,” Red smirked.

Emma nodded, her eyes moving across the deck before returning to her companion. “Good,” she replied. “Stay here. Deal with any…problems. I’ve got some things to take care of.”

Red saluted, and it was only partially teasing. “Aye, aye, Captain,” she grinned.

Emma rolled her eyes, then turned to face the brothers who stood a few feet away, their heads bowed in close conference. The second they realized she was watching them, they turned their attention to her.

“Brothers Jones, follow me,” she said, and they were almost too quick to obey.

They were silent behind her as she crossed the deck, the other men parting to let them by. No one dared meet her gaze, but it was with an air of respect rather than insubordination, or so it seemed to her. She wasn’t naive enough to think her control would hold, but Red’s presence on deck would likely keep them at bay for the time being.

When the door to the captain’s quarters swung open, Emma didn’t try to hide her grimace. A sharp contrast to the spotless deck, Silver’s cabin was covered in papers that had been thrown about, there were clothes littering the floor, food tossed aside and even lingering on parts of the walls.

“Is it always like this?” she asked, turning back to the brothers. She got her answer when Killian’s eyes darkened. “It’s like this until you clean it,” she deduced. “I see.”

They exchanged a look, but she ignored it. “Well, this won’t do. Come along!” she called, leaving them behind her as she headed towards her own quarters.

Liam and Killian hesitated in the doorway of her cabin, and she turned to them with raised eyebrows, her hand gesturing for them to sit at her table. When they shifted their feet reluctantly, she added, “Please sit. There are several questions I have for you, but first I’d like to tend to your injuries. This will go much more smoothly if you sit.”

When they finally acquiesced, Emma moved to the trunk in the corner of the room. It was a recent purchase, one that she’d agreed upon only after Red promised to make use of it as well. Emma was used to living out of the leather satchel that she dug through now, as months running and searching were better suited to packing lightly.

Emma retrieved the small wooden box from the bag, setting it on the table between the two men who watched her every move. The lid creaked when she opened it, revealing the few healing supplies she’d managed to hold onto throughout her travels. The jar of salve was something she’d made herself—her mother’s recipe—and after finding a clean cloth from beside the water basin, Emma dapped at the mixture.

Liam flinched when she raised the cloth to his face, relaxing a moment later when she waited for him to assure her that all was well with a small nod. She eased the salve over the bruise that had already begun to form, attempting to be as gentle as possible.

When she was done, she set the cloth over the jar, her hand finding the back of the empty chair as she looked between them.

“Any more injuries I need to know about?” To another, their silence might have indicated that the answer was no, but she read their expressions before they were schooled, measuring the looks they exchanged.

Emma’s arms folded over her chest, and something not quite as biting as a glare cut through their silence. “Hiding them isn’t going to help you very much,” she added.

Liam shifted uncomfortably. “Your Highness—”

“Call me Emma.”

His lips pulled down sharply as he looked from his brother to her. “You’re a princess,” he replied, “it isn’t proper.”

She let out a suffering sigh, releasing her arms from their hold around herself and gripping the back of the chair instead. “I’m barely a princess anymore,” she told them, her tone too matter-of-fact to reveal the devastation that came with the confession. “My kingdom is in ashes, my castle is little more than rubble, and my people are terrified, lost, or dead. My command on this ship may be the last royal duty I have, and I intend to do it right. That starts with helping the two of you.”

Her words hung heavily in the air, and Liam relented. “Killian’s back…”

“Is fine,” Killian finished quickly. Too quickly.

Liam’s eyebrows shot up at his brother, his head shaking slightly. “It’s not,” he told her, his pleading eyes slicing into her. “But I’m not sure it’s work for a—” he caught himself, pausing and starting again, “—for a lady.”

For a princess. The words, though unsaid, haunted her.

Emma’s lips pulled together as she glanced between them again. “I don’t know if you were paying attention back there, but I’m hardly the type to shy away from getting her hands dirty. And trust me, I have years of experience tending to my own wounds,” she said, “I think I can handle it.”

The months she’d spent with Red swirled in her mind, pointed memories of biting on straps of leather and suppressing cries, stitches rushed beneath moonlight with nothing but alcohol to numb the pain.

“If you supply me with sutures, I’m sure I can make quick work of it,” Liam offered.

Anyone else might have let him, but there was something in her gut that told her she needed to do it. To prevent Liam from having to cause his brother pain again, however helpful that pain might be, or perhaps to ensure that the wound was being properly taken care of, or maybe she was just too damn stubborn to let them do it themselves.

“I’m sure you’re right,” Emma replied, “but between my work with injuries and needlepoint, I think I’ve got you beat with even stitches.” They didn’t have a response to that, and she counted it as a victory.

But that victory was rather hollow when she recalled the words of the captain, the ‘twenty lashes’ that had failed to teach whatever twisted lesson Silver believed was fair, and she was reaching for the numbing gel in her box before she realized what she was doing. It had become her most precious item in the past months, aside from the few trinkets she had from her parents and her father’s dagger, but if made to choose, she’d have to pick the more practical one.

“Liam, I’m not certain—”

Emma didn’t let him finish. “Look, I realize that this is less than ideal. I’m just a stranger to you, and I understand that I’m asking you to trust me. But if this is about pride or protecting my sensibilities, you’re wasting time for both of us,” she said firmly, holding Killian’s gaze. “The reality is that I can help you. You just have to let me. So either tell me to leave you to your pain, or take off your shirt and let me help you.”

Killian did not move right away, blinking up at her with his eyes blown wide. But Emma was never one to back down from a challenge, and she wasn’t going to be the one to break the staring contest they’d gotten into.

“Killian, she’s right,” Liam said, Killian’s eyes flitting from hers to look at his brother. “Just do it. You’ll heal much faster this way.”

When Killian finally stood to unbutton his shirt, Emma returned to her box, gathering the other supplies rather than look at the man she found dangerously intriguing. She forced herself to focus, not looking up until he’d laid on the bed, his back exposed.

“Is there anything you need?” Liam asked her as she crossed to the bunk, pulling the chair so she could sit beside it.

“A wet cloth, thank you,” she replied, laying her supplies out onto the small table next to her.

Part of her training to become an effective ruler included learning to put her mind in a box. She had to be rational even when being rational nearly killed her, and letting her emotions surface now, when there was a person who needed healing…she wasn’t going to let that happen. So she swallowed every thought and feeling that rose in her stomach and in her mind, examining the torn skin before her as if it were a war that had to be fought, and order, strategy, precision would let her succeed.

Emma accepted the wet cloth from Liam before he returned to sit at the table. “I’ll have to clean it first,” she told Killian softly. “It will sting for a moment, but once I’m done I’ll apply the numbing gel.” It was confusing for her, trying to dance the line between empathy and cool rationality. Comfort, kindness, but calm, exact, detached but not apathetic.

Killian didn’t meet her gaze, nodding as his hand gripped the pillow. His jaw was taut, and she recognized the expression. The anticipation of pain, the kind that came with knowing what was to come.

It was the lack of a cry, a groan, or even a whimper that tore into her heart and almost shattered the dam that restrained her emotions. The cleansing liquid burned, she knew it did, but as she dabbed it against the bright red gashes that covered his upper back, he did not make a sound. She followed with the cloth quickly to ease the fire, but it wasn’t enough. It never had been for her.

Emma forced herself to breathe when she returned the bottle to the table, taking the numbing gel in hand. She grounded herself in the release of tension the second it touched his skin, how his jaw loosened and the way his exhale was almost a sigh.

“Alright, Liam, tell me who’s gonna be a problem,” she said, eager for both the distraction and the information.

“What?”

She didn’t turn to look at him, reaching for the needle instead. “You talk while I work,” she told him. Killian didn’t show any sign of pain or even sensation when she made the first stitch, but Emma knew it wasn’t because he couldn’t feel it. The numbing gel was good, but it could only do so much.

“Who is going to try to mutiny?” she asked, pausing before forming another stitch.

“Carver,” Killian grunted. “He and Johnson aren’t likely to be your biggest fans,” he said, and he spoke as if he were sitting beside her at the table.

She kept her eyes and her hands focused on making quick, even stitches. “Greatest assets? I need to know who’s going to be the most helpful on our voyage, who can navigate, who I can trust.”

“Terry’s the best sailor we’ve got,” Liam said.

Killian made a sound, and at first, Emma thought she’d hurt him. “I’d say you’ve got at least as much skill, brother,” he muttered.

Emma stopped her moving hand, glancing back at Liam. “Is this true?” Heat spread across his face, answering before he could.

“Aye,” Killian replied.

“Okay, we’ll discuss that later,” she said, resuming her task. It was easier to think of it like that, a task, just something she needed to do. “Is there anyone else on board who will be needing my nursing abilities?”

“Not that I’m aware of, no,” Liam said softly.

Emma nodded, letting silence fall for a few minutes while she worked. Half of her energy was channeled towards the actual stitching, the other half spent on trying not to think about the scar tissue on this man’s back. She wasn’t sure she’d ever stitched something faster in her life.

“If I didn’t make it abundantly clear before, you’re both free,” she said after a while. “If you’d prefer it, we can drop you off at the nearest port, but you’re welcome to stay. I’ll see to it that you have proper wages—retroactive ones, either way—but you’ll have a place among the crew should you wish it. The choice is entirely yours.”

“We’ll stay,” Liam told her, his tone more resolved than she’d ever heard it.

“Aye,” Killian agreed as if there were no question.

She smiled softly, relieved at their choice, if she were being honest with herself. She would’ve kept her word had they chosen otherwise, but it was a comfort to know that she’d have at least two she could rely on aboard the ship.

It didn’t take much longer for her to finish the last of the stitches, and she covered his back in her special salve a little more liberally than normal. Her hand froze as she pulled it back, her ears catching the sounds from the deck.

“Damn,” she muttered, wiping her hands with the wet cloth quickly, “I thought we’d have more time.” She left the room before Killian could even replace his shirt, but the brothers Jones were not far behind.

Her sword was in her hand when she reached the deck, scanning the scene and finding Red in the center of it. Several men had gathered around her as she bared her blade and her teeth, but Emma was at her side before the first man had the chance to attack.

Emma’s sword was fast, although it wasn’t the cutlass the crew used, and she parried her opponent’s first attack, then his second, the metal clanging so familiar that she got lost in the fight, a lunge and a hit against him and then a step to the side at the last second that threw him off balance. A sweep of her leg brought the man down faster than he could recover, his ass then his head slamming against the ground.

A half-turn brought her to the next enemy, a quicker man who still wasn’t quite quick enough. She used his size against him, tricked him into an ill-timed attack that revealed more of her target, and she nicked him in the arm, just enough to make him falter. She disarmed him with a move her father had taught her, knocking him out with the butt of her sword without waiting to watch him drop onto the deck.

But when she spun to face her third opponent, someone else was there to interrupt her.

Liam charged with a fallen blade, his footwork a little clumsy but good enough to face the oversized mutineer. He lunged at the man, catching him in the side, and Liam took him down with just a few more swipes.

The fourth was already engaged in a fight with Killian when she turned. This brother was quicker, more agile, better suited for the blade in his hand. He was skilled, that was apparent to her even in the thirty seconds or so she was able to observe before he disarmed the attacker. The hilt of his sword collided with the man’s head, and then Killian turned to face his princess and captain.

Red cast her weary gaze across the deck, eyeing the rest of the crew who had gathered to watch the events unfold. “Anyone else?” she taunted, and Emma joined her in measuring them up. “Good, at least we’ve retained the ones with common sense. I could use a hand taking these traitors to the brig,” she hinted.

Several men moved right away, both brothers with them, but Emma stopped Killian with a hand on his shoulder. His startled eyes met hers, his eyebrow raised questioningly.

“If you pull those stitches, all of my hard work will be for nothing,” she said. She felt her lips pull up at his sheepish expression, his hand reaching to scratch behind his ear.

She turned to his brother who was hoisting an attacker over his shoulder. “Thank you, Liam.” Another hand held out to him, this time to shake.

“You’re welcome, Your Hi—” he paused, taking it. “Emma.”

It was just her name, but it really wasn’t. It felt like acceptance, like loyalty. Fighting for each other, crossing enemy blades to defend. With Liam, the use of her name was respect and a promise. She watched him join the others in heading below, and then she turned to his brother.

“Thank you, Killian,” she said, offering him the same gesture.

“We owe you much, love. It’s the least we could do.”

Emma tried to pretend that she didn’t feel a jolt rush through her when her hand touched his, like lightning didn’t shiver up her arm from where their skin met. She mourned the sensation when it disappeared with the release of his hand.

“You’re a better swordsman than your brother,” she said suddenly.

“Aye, well,” he hesitated, ducking his head. “He was a little busy covering for my mistakes to learn the footwork.”

“That was more than just footwork,” she pointed out.

Killian flushed, his ears turning a most delightful shade. He opened his mouth to speak, but whatever he was about to say was interrupted when a man approached.

The newcomer was older, slightly graying, and he wore a kind smile. “Your Highness,” he greeted, bowing properly. “My name is John Terry. I’d like to offer my navigational skills to aid Your Highness on our voyage to Arendelle.”

Although she was put off by his terrible timing, she smiled her sweetest diplomat smile. “Thank you, sir. I am certain that Liam will appreciate the assistance, as he will be leading the charge, so to speak.”

She hadn’t entirely decided on this particular detail, not until she saw how readily he fought for her, how quickly he and his brother came to help her. After all that, how could she not trust him to lead their way? As always, she listened to her instincts, and her instincts were screaming at her to trust the Jones brothers.

“Of course, Your Highness,” Terry nodded. “I will meet with the elder Jones just as soon as he finishing helping Lady Red.” With another bow, Terry retreated, the sincere expression never wavering.

Killian was staring when she turned back to him. “You…”

“Took you at your word?” He nodded. “Allow me to let you in on a little secret,” she said, her voice low, “I can always tell when people are lying.” It had saved her life more than once, and though she’d had reservations about giving Liam the post before, his skill was never in question.

Killian’s eyes didn’t leave her, they only widened as if he couldn’t help himself but look at her in awe.

“What?”

“You’re bloody brilliant,” he blurted, and red came to stain his cheeks again. “Apologies, Your Highness,” he muttered.

Emma sighed, resheathing her sword so she could twist her hands together. “What did I say about my title?” she reminded him.

Once again he was prevented from speaking, unable to amend his statement before Red and Liam returned from below and joined them. And force of habit kept Emma from dallying, turning to Liam to get right to business.

“I’ve told Terry he may assist you in leading our navigation,” she told him. “He wishes to meet to discuss our course, but make no mistake, you’re taking the reins on this. And I want not a word from you against it,” Emma added, narrowing her gaze as if to prove that she was serious.

Liam nodded, but he wisely remained silent.

“Red, I want you at the helm until one of them takes over.”

“Of course, Emma.”

“Report any relevant information or concerns you have directly to me,” Emma told them. “I’d rather not have to defend the ship from a second mutiny, if it can be avoided.”

Red huffed, shaking her head at the thought. “And if we need you? Where will you be?”

“I will be learning the ins and outs of the ship from Killian—unless he has any objections?” Emma raised an eyebrow, looking to him to confirm. When he did, she continued, “Right then, we’ll remain on deck to keep the crew from deciding to do anything extremely stupid.”

And with that, they dispersed, Red towards the stern and Liam below while Emma led Killian to the forecastle where the fewest men lingered to work. But the eyes of the crew followed the princess wherever she moved, until her biting glare forced their attention back to their tasks.

“Would I be wrong to assume that the two you mentioned are now occupying the brig?” she asked. “Carver and Johnson?”

“No.”

She’d already guessed this, of course, but it was satisfying to have her hunch confirmed. “So I’m also assuming that you know quite a bit about how this crew works, based on the accurate prediction.”

“I suppose,” he replied, eyeing her curiously as they walked along the railing.

“Perfect,” she grinned.

It only took a few strategic questions from her before he was laying out the exact dynamics of the crew, the hierarchy that was always present, the groups that would form in the right climate. With Killian’s knowledge, she had a clear picture of who could be trusted and who she’d encourage to vacate the premises the second they were docked.

Emma had anticipated this. He was perceptive, clever, and his mind worked more like a soldier than a sailor. Killian’s instincts were much like hers, and she would’ve made bets on his intuition.

“What’s in Arendelle?” he asked once his information was exhausted and silence had settled over them.

She sighed, dropping to sit on a nearby barrel. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him, or even that the information was particularly secret, but she hated revealing that she was truly just searching blindly in the dark for anything at all to help her succeed.

“They’re our closest ally that has magic,” she said honestly. It wasn’t all of it, but it was the truth.

He was the curious sort, and she could read all of the questions in his eyes. But he held his tongue for whatever the reason, and the opportunity was lost anyway when Liam joined them. Though Liam’s information was likely vital, she couldn’t help but feel that something else was rather important, too. Red requested an audience before she could consider it further.

They located a secluded part of the deck rather than going below for privacy, neither willing to risk it so soon after the mutiny attempt. Emma braced herself for the oncoming lecture. Well, Red wasn’t exactly the lecturing type, so perhaps she’d simply scold her and move on.

“You did the right thing.”

“I think so, too,” Emma replied.

“Silver is a slimy little bastard, and I can’t say that I’m upset to see him and his friends in the brig,” Red chuckled.

It was true, Emma knew, but she’d expected to have to defend her actions, her recklessness, to her godmother. “So you wanted to talk to me,” Emma prompted.

Red sighed, leaning against the rail that overlooked the deck. “You forget, kid,” she began, “I watched your mother do this the first time. It’s not enough to just get them back, to save them, we need allies. You need allies. And that’s exactly what you’re doing.”

Emma smirked, “You’re telling me to keep up the good work?”

“I’m telling you to use that gut of yours, Emma. Trust it, just as you have been. If you continue to do that, continue to lead the way like you’ve always been trained to, we can’t lose.”

--

Emma stood at the helm, her sharp eyes trained on the deck before her. Silence enshrouded the ship, only the gentle crashing of the waves sounding in the air. Light was scarce, the half-formed moon above giving her just enough to assure her that all was well.

Red had long since gone to bed, her and Emma’s things moved into the first mate’s quarters for the time being—the previous occupant had recently relocated to less comfortable arrangements far below. Naturally, Emma had dispatched Red to order the Jones brothers into the newly vacant cabin, and she’d been given express instructions to ensure they’d both reapplied the salve. But that was hours ago, and Emma had a few more before Red was due to relieve her at the wheel.

“Liam or I would’ve gladly taken the night shift, Princess.”

Emma turned at the voice, unsurprised to find Killian already beside her. “Be that as it may,” she said, “I still wished for both of you to get a good night’s sleep.”

“And what of our fearless captain?” The moon lit the side of his face, an eyebrow raised in her direction. “Doesn’t she deserve a restful night?”

Her grip tightened on the helm as the memories flickered before her eyes without her permission, the calm nights that turned into chaos foreshadowed only by a single twig snapping or the turn of a doorknob, the things she would’ve missed had she not been awake.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to get anything resembling a restful night,” she confessed bitterly.

“Is this your brilliant war strategy? To be so exhausted that your enemies pity you and surrender?”

She shot him a glare, but his expression didn’t falter, remaining open and questioning. “Fair point,” she relented. “However, my bunk won’t be free until Red returns to take the next shift, and I don’t think the floor would be very comfortable.”

“Ah,” he breathed. “Luckily for you, the matter has been taken care of,” he told her. “I think you’ll find that the captain’s quarters are more to your liking now.”

Concern and frustration made a strange combination in her voice. “Killian, you didn’t—”

He held up a hand. “It was no trouble, I assure you. I found the task much more pleasant when I knew it was for you and not Silver,” he smiled. “And before you can ask, I was careful with my back. Liam checked my stitches, and your handiwork hasn’t been ruined.”

“And now I’m just supposed to let you finish the shift for me? After you worked for who knows how long cleaning that horrible cabin?” she nearly snapped at him, pausing to take a breath. “You need sleep more than I do, Killian. You’re healing.”

“I’ve already slept for a couple of hours, but if it suits you, Your Highness, I’ll rise late tomorrow.”

“I thought I told you to call me Emma,” she interjected.

“And as my brother already said, it isn’t proper.” He didn’t cower beneath her pointed gaze, holding his head high as challenged her.

She deliberated a moment before speaking. “I’ll let you take over as soon as you call me Emma.”

Killian’s eyebrow shot up again, his expression a mixture of irritation and something softer, fondness with an edge of awe that revealed to her that she’d impressed him yet again. Their locked eyes brought a new tension between them this time, until Killian seemed to remember himself and glanced away quickly.

He sighed, and moonlight reflected in his eyes as they moved to meet hers again. “I owe you much,” he said.

“You don’t owe me anything.”

Killian nearly snorted at that. “Saving Liam? Relieving Silver of this ship? Freeing my brother and myself, essentially saving our lives? Tending to my wounds? Giving Liam the chance to be a real sailor?”

“Okay, not nothing,” Emma mumbled. She cleared her throat in an attempt to start over. “I did what was right. Don’t…I don’t want you to feel trapped because of a sense of obligation, not when you’ve just gotten your freedom back.”

His eyes were gentle, almost tender, and she wished it was light enough to see their exact shade. “Don’t you see,” he paused, and when he finally said her name, it was almost a prayer, his lips caressing as he murmured, “Emma?”

She couldn’t reply, not when she was lost in his eyes and his voice and his expression. Where Liam’s use of her name was respect, loyalty, Killian’s was something more. It was something far too deep, vast and powerful like the seas that rocked them. When Killian used her name, it was as if the world trembled around her, pausing for a fraction of a second just to revel in the sound.

“You’ve given us our freedom—freedom to choose,” he continued. “We’ve gone so long having to witness Silver’s atrocities and those done by others just like him, never able to stop it, never able to do anything but watch. But with you here, you’re giving us a chance to do something about it. Now we can do the right thing. And after seeing you today, love, I’m certain that the right thing is to remain at your side.”

Killian smiled, his hand taking the helm. “And you can’t very well lead us into battle if you’re passed out,” he added.

Emma’s hands dropped from their hold on the wheel, and she stepped aside to relinquish her post. He immediately slid into her spot, a satisfied grin stretching across his lips.

“I expect you to rise late, remember,” Emma reminded him.

“Of course.”

“And if there’s trouble—”

“There won’t be.”

“If there’s trouble,” she repeated, “make sure I’m the first to know about it.”

He nodded, “Aye, aye, Captain.”

“Here we go,” she said under her breath, turning away from him to head towards her cabin.

“What’s that?”

“Nothing!” she called over her shoulder. She stopped before she reached the opening, glancing back at him. “Good night, Killian.”

“Good night, Captain.”

It wasn’t her name, but at least it wasn’t ‘Your Highness,’ which was much worse. And he’d said her name once. Given her reaction, it might not have been the best idea to make it a regular occurrence. Besides, there was something about the way he said Captain that felt like…well, it was nice.

The waves lulled Emma to sleep not long after her head hit the pillow, something almost like a smile on her lips as she drifted off.

[lilacsandwhiskey]

Simp prompts "it's okay, I promise, I'll be here when you wake up" for Drake x Riley. I don't care who says it to who...

Leaving 18+

Pairing: Drake Walker x Riley Brooks

A/U where Riley was previously in Drake’s life while he was in college, until the day Leo showed up at his door and whisked the man away. Riley never even got a goodbye. This takes place after running into each other in NYC that night when she’s his waitress.

Warnings: smutttty, angst, trash writing, language, did not proofread:)

prompt from simp softness prompts from @soulmemes

Riley was mad at herself. Furious actually.

When Drake walked into the restaurant she worked at, the thought crossed her mind to walk up and slap him across the face. Or kiss him. Or cry. Or all of the above.

But instead, she walked up, cool, calm, and collected. Drake found that more terrifying than anything. The four men sat at the table, Drake’s eyes practically bugging out of his head, while the other three took part in a conversation among themselves - something about one of them almost died at the top of the Empire State Building or something like that.

The table was already frustrating from seeing Drake, but the remarks from the one with the slicked back hair and fancy suit made it almost unbearable. Drake finally spoke up, ordering for the table before skittishly saying Riley’s name in question.

“Yes, hi Drake. I’ll be back with your drinks.” Riley attempted to look unbothered but as soon as she turned on her heel away from the table she wanted to throw up.

“Stop it!” Riley cried out for the sixth time while Drake pinched the sides of her hips, making her laugh uncontrollably. “Fine, fine.” He pulled Riley into him, lifting up one of her hands with his own and staring at it.

Riley finally caught her breath. “What ya thinking about in that pretty little head, Drake Walker?” Drake played aimlessly with her fingers, looking at her through his dark eyelashes. “Just a future with you, Brooks.”

It was only weeks later that the brown-headed Cordonian boy left without a trace, without so much as a word or call. Soon, Riley’s number couldn’t make it through the dial, and she was left to heal a broken heart on her own. She hated the idea of Drake. The way he held her so close the night before he was gone.

She’d buried her head inside his chest, asking for an answer for what they were going to do after graduation. Graduation was still over a year away but Riley couldn’t help but to think about what was going to happen when they walked across the stage.

After several words of affirmation, Drake held Riley close, kissing her forehead. “It’s okay, I promise I’ll be here when you wake up.”

And then he wasn’t. When Riley woke up, she recognized that the bed was colder than usual, she was free to move around on the small twin xl bed. She figured Drake had left to get something from his room, as this wasn’t like him at all. When an hour had passed by with no trace, no call or text back, she resulted to contacting his roommate.

Riley recalled the sobs that fell from her lips when his roommate was frantic on the phone, mentioning that there was not a single thing left behind except for the clothes he’d left in Riley’s room. They searched high and low for a letter, a note, something, but came up with nothing.

Now here she was, facing the boy turned man that had broken her heart into tiny little pieces. Riley went to the back of the restaurant to control her breathing before facing her past again.

After their order had been delivered, Riley took it upon herself to begin closing up, starting with wiping down the bar and tables. All of this in attempt to occupy her mind. That changed when the blonde who you’d only assume was his friend, Liam, that’d you’d seen in pictures on Drake’s desk, walks up ready to pay for the meal for everyone. Thankful that everyone was told to wait outside, Riley engaged in the casual conversation with Liam.

“So you’re the infamous Riley?” “So, that’s what they call me in your parts.” Riley responded, swiping the credit card through the machine. Liam could only grin, but there was no doubt that he could see why his friend fell so hard for her. Of course he’d gotten to know her over phone calls and video chats when she was in Drake’s room, but seeing her in person, watching the way she was able to pull herself together so quickly in what must have been a hard moment, Liam knew why Drake never stopped talking about her.

Drake hadn’t said her name in well over a year, but Liam had caught his friend stalking her social media just months ago. “Look, I’m sure you have a thousand assumptions about the man, but I promise he didn’t leave you. He had to leave behind a life he created over something he had no control of.” Riley scoffed, Liam noticed she was barely taking in the excuse. “If you love someone, you don’t leave without a trace. It doesn’t matter anyway, that was college and many years ago. Not like it means anything now.”

After leaving a rather large tip, Liam thanked Riley for her patience and hospitality before heading out the door. Liam noticed that Drake had separated himself from the group, wandering around and staring up at the sky as if he was searching for something. “Ready to go?”

——————

Riley felt her phone buzz in her pocket for the eighteenth time, she was sure. When she clocked out, she finally slid her phone out of her pocket, revealing several text messages from Cassie. Riley knew a brisk call would be better than even attempting to read through all of the messages.

“Cassie, what gave you the idea that texting me a thousand times was okay?” “Look, you have to come out with me tonight. Sarah bailed and you know I don’t want to go clubbing alone.”

Riley mumbled goodbyes to the cooks who were closing up, placing the phone between her shoulder and ear. “Cassie…” “Please, I’m begging.” After the night she had, she thought it could be a good idea to get her mind off of things, aimlessly flirt with some guys and get some free drinks. “Meet me at my apartment in ten so I can get ready.”

——————

The driver followed his directions that Maxwell had given to the club. Drake sat with his head at the window, staring at the lights, wishing he could just go back to the penthouse and fall asleep for the night.

“Drake..” Liam pulled the man from his thoughts as he looked over to his friend. “Why didn’t you say something?” “It was clear she didn’t want to see me. And, who knew we’d run into her anyway? That was the last thing I’d expect in this city.” Drake replied, sitting further back in his seat.

“Did you expect her to welcome you with a hug and kiss? Dude, she got her heartbroken. And I feel just as guilty because I know why you came back but she deserves something.” “Can we just drop it?” Liam shrugged his shoulder with a slight scoff, knowing this was how hard-headed his best friend was.

As they walked into the club Maxwell had sought out, Drake felt the dread enter deeply into his body. Individuals dancing on others, music blasting through the speakers, nothing but the smell of too much perfume, alcohol, and sweat. Drake pushed pass his friends to sought out the bar, where he’d occupy for the rest of the night.

Drake reached the bar, taking an empty seat as the bartender diverted his attention to him as he cleaned a glass. “Whiskey, please.” Drake placed his elbows on the counter just as he heard a familiar voice coming up behind him.

“You tricked me, Cass.” “I knew you wouldn’t come if you didn’t feel bad for me. Sarah may have changed her mind, okay.” Drake turned his head the other way, in hopes she didn’t notice him. He couldn’t help but side-eye her though, taking in the tiny emerald dress that was hugging her body - instead of the baggy t-shirt and shorts she was wearing prior. Her hair was pulled out of the loose bun and was now laying down her back in loose waves.

“Whiskey, please.” She sighed. Drake smirked, knowing he was the one who got her hooked on a simple glass of whiskey. Then he heard a groan, knowing she’d looked and noticed him. Drake cleared his throat. “You following me, Drake?” A very Riley thing to ask.

“I wish I could say so, but my friends dragged me here.” “Thought so, you always said this wasn’t your scene.” Riley air quoted as she talked, nursing the whiskey that had been placed in front of her. She never made eye contact though. “You know, I never thought I’d see you again, and now that I do, I don’t even know what to say. Maybe… Fuck you?” Drake almost let out a laugh, nodding his head. “Guess I deserve that.” “Yeah, no guessing. Flat out.”

Drake admired her for keeping herself calm and collected. Drake himself was about to pass out from his nerves of being so close to the one girl he’d loved the most. “It’s been five years. You’ve changed a lot.” “That’s what happens to people, typically.” Riley remarked. “Can we talk?” Drake blurted out. Riley still didn’t make eye contact with him. “Please, I just.. I need to be honest with you.” “For once in his life, Drake Walker wants to explain himself… wants to be honest. What does me the honors?” “Brooks.” “Fine, lay it out.” She patted the table. “Not here.”

Riley’s eyes finally met his face. “You think I want to go somewhere with you?” “You once trust me, didn’t you?” “Yeah, once.” “Trust me again.” “It doesn’t work like that, Drake.” Drake nodded his head. “I get that but please, just not here.” His eyes wandered the room. “Fine.” Riley shoved herself from the table, Drake scrambling to leave some bills on the counter before attempting to catch up with her. She had dragged who looked to be her friends to the side who were eying her with devious smiles, in which she returned with a slight shove.

Drake shot a quick text to his friends that he’d meet back up with them later. When Riley was out hailing a taxi, she still had yet to say a word to him from leaving the table. The ride to whatever location made Drake’s heart wrench. When they pulled up to a brick building, Riley handed the man cash and got out quickly, Drake on her heels.

Shockingly, Riley had managed to feel comfortable enough to bring Drake to her haven, her home, in the midst of New York. “Welcome to my humble abode.” She stood in her studio apartment, leaning up against the counter as she watched Drake observe the room. “Much different than your dorm decor.” “Yeah, not so much into patterns anymore.” Riley replied.

The silence between them thickened. “Okay, Drake, I didn’t invite you to my place so you could stalk around trying to take in the bits of me you missed out on. You said you’d explain yourself. And I’m tired of waiting.” Drake found himself speechless. “See, you don’t even care to say anything. After all these years, after the heartbreak and the hurt you put me through, you can’t say anything. Do you know what you leaving did to me? Do you know how much it hurt to plan a future with someone then wake up to no trace? Hell, I get we were kids but come on, that doesn’t mean it didn’t affect me.” “Riley…” “No, I gave you the chance to talk. I’m taking my opportunity. Do you know how low you have to be to drop the girl who’d do anything for you? I was willing to wait for you. I was so patient with you, for you to come around to your senses that we belonged together. I was there. Do you-“ “Dammit, Brooks.”

Drake moved swiftly, crashing his own lips on Riley’s in efforts to shut her up - and it worked. Drake rested his hand on her cheek, the other on her back pulling her into him, suddenly reminiscing on the times that those lips had been all over him before. Riley slowly lifted her arms up to tug the back of his head, before finally coming to her own senses and pushing him away. “What the hell, Drake?!”

“You wouldn’t let me talk and I need to get this out. For five years, I’ve wondered about you. I’ve thought nonstop about you and what we couldve been. I regretted so much, recognizing that we could’ve been fucking married by now. Isn’t that crazy? Yeah, we were two college kids who couldn’t get enough of each other but I met you and I knew you were special. You wanna know why I left? Because my best friend needed me. I couldn’t tell you what was going on because it’s confidential what goes on in his life. I couldn’t bring you home to meet my family because I didn’t have a home - I lived in a palace with my best friend because my mom couldn’t take care of me and my sister. That’s the truth. My best friend needed me and just like I always do, I went back. I ran. And I missed out on the greatest thing in life but I couldn’t tell you. I was sworn to secrecy.”

Riley stared, lips slightly opened, tears brimming her eyes. “Brooks, I’ve thought about you every single day. Liam told me how stupid I was to leave you, I knew how stupid I was, but I needed to be back. I needed to be in Cordonia. But that didn’t change the way I felt. I thought about you… every damn day.” Riley swallowed hard before stepping just a little closer.

“I’m not saying this will fix everything or hell, I don’t know if you ever want to see me again, but just know I never wanted to leave you. My intentions were to start my own life with you. It’s been five years but that hasn’t stopped me.” Drake took his own step closer to the love of his life, closing the gap between them. “Show me.” Riley said above a whisper. “Hm.” “Show me that you never wanted to leave.”

Drake’s body crashed into Riley’s before picking her up and setting her on the counter. “I never stopped loving you.” Drake mumbled between kisses, moving his lips desperately to her neck. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He never thought he’d see this girl again much less be kissing her.

Drake swiftly brought her from the counter, holding her body close to his as she mumbled directions to her room. This was real.

Drake laid Riley on the bed, careful to make sure she was really in front of him. “Are you.. are you sure?” “Yes.” Riley shimmied quickly out of her small dress, laying back on the bed before urging the man in front of her to prove her wrong - that he did care all this time. Drake felt his heart jump as he slowly hovered over her, kissing her neck, down to her breasts. His fingers slowly traced down her arm, to her stomach, right above her underwear.

“You are so beautiful. Always have been.” He said. Drake slowly caressed the skin above her waistband before inching his fingers down to her heat, slowly sliding a finger in, causing her to arch her back. Drake kept his mouth placed on her own as she let out small desperate moans. This was it.

Drake managed to slide a condom out of his wallet, giving a few pumps before putting it on. “Brooks, are you sure?” “Yes.” Riley consented. With a long kiss, Drake slowly pushed inside of Riley, managing to fit his entirety into her. Gasps came from both of them, wide eyes staring into each other. “Are you okay?” “Yes, go on.” Drake slowly began rolling his hips into Riley’s, moans slipping through both of their lips.

This was different. It wasn’t two horny college students handling their frustrations. This was two adults who needed each other. Two people who were made for each other but didn’t know how the world would work to make it happen. And here they were riding out their highs together, Drake collapsing on Riley as she pulled him into her.

Her hands found his curls, twirling them around on her fingers, recognizing that she hadn’t felt this in a long time - and never thought she ever would again. After the moments they spent together, Riley found herself getting insecure.

Barely any conversation had been held for both of them to really understand what this could be or what realm had just been opened. He still very well lived across the world, and they both had growing up to do since the last time they saw each other. Of course they were different people, but who were they for each other now?

A silent tear escaped Riley’s eye as the man on top of her steadied his breathing, getting up quickly to clean himself up. Riley scooted over, bringing the blankets to cover her body. When Drake joined her again, he wrapped an arm around her, placing kisses to her forehead. “What is it?” He asked, noticing her tears. “Where does this leave us?” “We’re gonna figure this out, Brooks. I’m not leaving you again. It’s okay, I promise I’ll be here when you wake up. We both need to understand what this is and could be and who we are now. All I know is, I’ve missed you, Brooks. And I hope you missed me too.”

[twelvedaysinaugust]

I suggest you do leave it behind! I did. I still go into my blog to stalk fandom when I get bored, just cus. When I say leave it all behind- I mean leave FANDOM behind , I don’t mean stop being a fan. You CAN still enjoy Louis and his music and his cute personality and his pretty face and how he is on stage, without being a Stan. I saw him in Cincinnati yesterday, best gig I’ve been to in ages! And I think it’ll only get better from here. I saw 1D live in 2013, and that’s something that I will carry with me for life because it’s just such a happy memory, those boys meant everything to teenage me. Tbh, they always will. I even saw Harry in 2017, had a blast. No regrets. I personally dislike him these days(and have for a while) so I just ignore his existence now, don’t get involved in any rad or larry drama, even if I was a sort of a rad after being a larrie for 6 years. I was a super hardcore larrie during the band, had a decent size blog and everything. Now looking back… I’m truly not sure if the babygate theory is yk- babygate. Bc I just don’t think it would last this long. Louis claims F as his. But It’s just all so confusing.

Nowadays… fandom just isn’t fun like it used to be. There’s serious discourse on subjects we truly know nothing about. I don’t doubt ALL(larrie, rad, solo harrie/anti Louis, even directioner) blogs are manipulative to an extent. The only part of fandom I partake in is reading fics and, like I said, catching up with Louis (and sometimes Niall) on here. Like you, I know a lot but am certain of very little because louis’ personal life is SO confusing. We don’t know shit. We probably won’t for a very long time. Just wait for LT2 and enjoy that(if it ends up being your music taste), we can’t know the full narrative of the kind of person he truly is, especially w all the fandom theories. He’s a multimillionaire- I’m sure he’ll be fine w less stans and more casual fans. We don’t need to have a parasocial relationship w him.

I don’t think Eleanor is his long term monogamous partner, and I can’t be convinced unless they get married and pop out babies or something. And you’ll never convince me larry wasn’t real at one point… u just won’t. At the very least I’m sold on 2010-2013 larry. His sexuality is also something that confuses me. And larry post 2014 confuses me even more. I hope they are together and happy, and by they I mean Louis and whoever his partner is. If it’s Harry, great! They made it. Good for them. If it’s Eleanor, I’m very confused, but good for them. The details are so convoluted that, no matter what side you’re on, you can’t make conclusions that have no plot holes. And that applies even more to babygate. I’ll always believe Louis is a good person at heart, he’s shown it in the smallest and simplest of ways. He’s never shown to be the type to do bad things for fame or do bad things w/o reason, even if he’s not perfect, I’m certain of that. But I also don’t know the full extent of anything in his personal life. Especially his paternity and relationship w his son. And tbh - idc anymore. I wish everyone a good and happy life as long as they deserve it. And i will simply buy/ listen/ support a career if I think it’s quality work. 4/5 solos(sorry Liam) are quality work. And yes, even if I dislike Harry, I stream some of his songs bc they’re good songs w next level production. Even if 1D weren’t such decent boys, I would’ve still seen them in concert, cus midnight memories and four slapped. It’s so much better when you seperate the art from the artist, believe me, you’ll be thankful when you leave fandom behind! I’d tell this to larries and some rads even, but we both know they don’t listen.

Thank you for taking the time to send this. Everything, everything you said resonated. I wish you all the best.

[theoriginalladya]

Basorexia - An overwhelming desire to kiss. Rydenko

from this list

On AO3 here

Thank you so much for asking this, my friend!!!!! Hope you enjoy it!

Under cut for length ... because you know me, it got looooooooong! lol

~~~

“So, you and Reyes … you know each other?”

It’s a simple enough question, probably a little too simple in all honesty because it’s obvious by the way the two men react to one another they do, but Scott wants to confirm it all the same.

The Pathfinder, however, wants anything but and heads out of Tartarus like he’s a varren with his tail on fire.  Scott has to scramble quickly to keep up with him, nearly tripping over his own feet as he makes his way through the slums.  He’ll give the man this much; he’s quick; and that’s without using his biotics to clear a path first.  Two more steps and Scott catches up, starts to reach for him in an effort to slow him down, but his hand drops to his side when Kaidan spins around and glares.  Scott swallows convulsively.  “Look, all I mean is …”    

“Yes.” If the Pathfinder could growl, that’s the sound he makes now; a mix of irritation, reluctance and something else Scott can’t quite put a name to.  Whatever it is, though, it’s clear the other man doesn’t want to talk about it.  Without another word, he heads off toward the Nomad, away from Scott, Reyes, and Kadara. Once more, he shifts to silent-mode, effectively throwing up a shield barrier between them.

But Scott is persistent.  Almost too persistent at times.  An old Earth expression, one he recalls his mother telling his father when Scott was young, comes to mind; Don’t poke a sleeping bear.  Sara teases him he’s not the brightest bulb in the pack at times, pushing ahead when he would do better to wait or withdraw and regroup. Hell, right now, even he can practically see the steam leaking out of Kaidan’s ears.  Scott hesitates, not wanting to provoke him – which isn’t his intention at all – but, something about the exchange between the two men back in Tartarus back there set off alarm bells in Scott’s head for reasons he can’t quite fathom.  Alarm bells of a more personal kind.  Given the fact Scott and the Pathfinder have been working toward reestablishing a … relationship, of sorts – if it can be called that at this stage – this pretty much falls under the need to know category.  

Kaidan’s pace slows as they near the Nomad.  The vehicle is empty; Liam isn’t anywhere within sight, and Cora already warned she was running a few minutes behind in the markets.  That equates to the perfect opportunity to continue the discussion, to Scott’s way of thinking.  Assuming, of course, he doesn’t send the man into a full blown rage.  He’s seen Kaidan angry once and only once; the history of L2s is notorious no matter which galaxy he’s in.  Not that he held that one time against the man; it was necessary in the moment, and more than a little likely neither of them would have survived had Kaidan not lost his cool.  Still, this time around, Scott has little desire to have it aimed directly at him.  

His mother’s voice returns in his head.  Anything worth having is a risk.  Scott smirks.  Somehow, he doubts she had this sort of situation in mind when she shared that bit of wisdom.  Then again, nothing changes the fact he needs information, or as much as he can pry free of the entirely too private man standing before him, and no other options really exist.

Scott clears his throat, replying in a deceptively casual and very dry tone, “Ah.  Went that well, did it?”

Kaidan mutters something Scott can’t hear because he opens the hatch to the Nomad and ducks inside for a moment.  When he returns, the scowl is still present, and his eyes narrowed.  On him.  “Do you have a point?”

Shit … target locked.  Mouth suddenly dry, Scott swallows and averts his gaze for a moment.  He isn’t afraid of him – far from it – but there is a difference between knowing that and actually believing it, and in this moment, Scott’s head has trouble believing.  He runs a hand through his hair, chuckling awkwardly.  “A point?  Ah, a point.  Yes. Well, I do, actually, believe it or not.”

Kaidan leans against the side of the Nomad, arms folded across his broad chest, but says nothing.  He doesn’t really need to, to be honest; his body language is quite … decisive.    

“Right.”  Scott swallows again.  “Um … point. Right.”  Shit, how do I say this?  “Well, you see …  I mean, I know it’s never come up before.”  One of Kaidan’s thick eyebrows arches, all question, his undivided attention directed at Scott.  Breathing is harder, and for some reason Scott can’t quite explain, all he wants to do is kiss the man, make him relax, chase away the after effects of this inherently bad idea he should never have started in the first place.  His twin isn’t ever going to let him live this down when she hears of it.  Scott’s tongue darts out to wet his lips briefly before he tries again.  “Erm …”

Kaidan pushes off the Nomad and takes two steps in Scott’s direction, closing the distance.  He stops only when he hovers right in front of Scott’s face, less than an inch between them.  Kaidan’s breath fans over Scott’s cheeks, warm and soft, and as he catches his breath, Ryder’s gaze falls to Kaidan’s lips.  So tempting.  Inviting.  Drawing in a deep breath is nearly impossible with him this close, and fighting off the urge to kiss him takes every ounce of willpower he can muster.  Which, come to think of it, isn’t all that much …

Oh hell.

Closing his eyes, Scott leans in and brushes Kaidan’s lips with his own.  The soft flutter of their biotic fields intersecting tingles delightfully, pulls a soft groan, though Scott can’t tell where it originates.  Almost as soon as it starts, however, Scott pulls back.  His eyes remain shut, his chest heaves, and he rasps roughly, “Sorry!” while frantically taking a step backwards, seeking space.  “I –.”

He stops when an arm slides around his hip and holds him securely.  The other moves beneath his chin and tips upward; not with force, but gentle urgency nonetheless.  Reluctantly, Scott opens his eyes, opens his mouth to try to apologize again, but is stopped by a finger over his lips.

“Yes, Reyes and I met before,” Kaidan tells him, voice low but the anger gone.  “A … professional encounter, I guess you could say.  Things did not go well; we didn’t part on what I’d call good terms.  I wasn’t expecting to find him in Andromeda, of all places.”

Scott’s lungs finally cooperate, expanding with air, leaving him gasping softly in the process, but otherwise silent.

Kaidan sighs and Scott notices the change immediately; all tension flees and he relaxes, or comes as close to relaxing as he can, in one breath.  There’s even a hint of a teasing smile at the corner of his lips as he lifts his hand and lightly runs his finger down the side of Scott’s temple.  “There is no need for you to be jealous, you know.”

“Jealous?”  Scott’s eyes widen in shock.  “I’m … I’m not!  I wasn’t!  I –!”

Kaidan guides Scott to sit on the edge of the Nomad at which point he leans in to kiss him again.  Scott’s pretty certain the groan that escapes this time is from him, and he wraps his fingers around Kaidan’s armor and tugs him closer.  The soft hint of Kaidan’s laughter washes over him as they pull apart.

“You are,” Kaidan replies knowingly.  “But you know what?”

Scott huffs, pouting.  “What?”

A smug smile curls across Kaidan’s lips.  “That’s okay.”

Scott inhales slowly, tilting his head to the side. “It is?”

“Yes.”

He blinks owlishly up at the Pathfinder.  “Why would me being jealous be okay?  I mean … if I was.  Which I’m not.”  He frowns. Am I?  

“Scott.”

Looking up at him again, Scott searches Kaidan’s face. The anger and irritation is all gone – hey, a win for the home team, that has to count for something, right? – replaced by something Scott still can’t put a name to, but it’s softer than he’s used to seeing.  Relaxation, yes, but something more.  Relief?  “Hmm?”

“Like I said, it’s okay.”

“Why?”

Kaidan kisses him again, just a light brushing of lips this time.  “Because it lets me know you are immune.”

That … isn’t what he expects.  He’s really confused now.  “Immune to what?”

“To Reyes.”

The sound of footsteps heading in their direction alert them both they have little time left for a private discussion.  But he can’t let this go, not just yet.  “What do you mean, Reyes?  What’s he got to do with this?  Other than me being jealous of him and you, which I’m not, but –.”

Kaidan steps back and smiles.  As it reaches his eyes, and Scott’s full attention is now solely on him, it suddenly clicks.  Jumping to his feet, he hisses, “Wait … you mean … you’re jealous, too?”

A hint of a flush in Kaidan’s cheeks is the only direct reply.  “Time to hit the road,” he calls out, raising his voice.  Both Cora and Liam come into view a moment later, and they climb inside the Nomad, leaving Kaidan and Scott outside.  

Before Kaidan moves past him, Scott catches him by the arm.  “You are, aren’t you?” he whispers.  

But Kaidan’s Pathfinder face is back in place.  “We’ll discuss it later…”

[searchingwardrobes]

The Convenient Groom: 10/14

Well, here it is everyone! One of the chapters I have been really looking forward to! There’s no kissing, but I give you platonic bed sharing plus emotional hurt/comfort with a side of jealousy. Enjoy!

Summary: Killian Jones just happens to be there when Emma Swan gets the phone call that changes everything: her fiance is leaving her at the altar. The thing is, it could also mean the end of her career. Convenient that Killian has nothing better to do that day. Convenient that he’s secretly in love with her. Not that Emma has to know that. Written for @spartanguard​​ .

Rating: M

Words: about 5k in this chapter

Also on Ao3

Tagging:@snowbellewells​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​​ @kmomof4​​ @let-it-raines​ @teamhook​​ @bethacaciakay​​ @xhookswenchx​​ @tiganasummertree​ @shireness-says​​ @stahlop​​ @scientificapricot​​ @welllpthisishappening​ @resident-of-storybrooke​​ @thislassishooked​​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @kday426​​ @ekr032-blog-blog​​ @lfh1226-linda​​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @nikkiemms​ @distant-rose @optomisticgirl​​ @profdanglaisstuff​ @carpedzem​ @ohmakemeahercules​​ @branlovestowrite​ @superchocovian​ @sherlockianwhovian​​ @vvbooklady1256​ @hollyethecurious​​ @winterbaby89​​ @delirious-latenight-laughs​ @jennjenn615​ @snidgetsafan​

Emma sighed as she polished off another piece of toast. She brushed the crumbs from her lap and relaxed into the comfortable chair on the back porch. She enjoyed the view of the ocean and the soothing sound of surf. It felt wonderful to be out in the fresh air after days cooped up inside sick. She contemplated going back to the kitchen for something more substantial, but she had given Killian her word. Besides, she’d already pushed her luck by spreading an extremely thin layer of butter on her toast.

Her cell phone started ringing on the patio table, and she jumped as if Killian had some sort of sixth sense about the butter. It was Ruby calling, however, not Killian.

“Hey, Rubes.”

“Hey, Ems,” Ruby’s simple reply was laced with meaning, “sooo, how’s it going being married to Mr. Hottie? Please tell me he leaves crumbs in the bed or smells really bad when he first wakes up in the morning. Otherwise I’ll be depressed over the state of my love life.”

Emma laughed as she flicked a few more errant crumbs off her pajama pants. “Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but he’s annoyingly neat. As for what he smells like when he wakes up, I wouldn’t know.”

There was a fumbling sound on the other end and a muttered curse from Ruby. “I’m sorry, I almost dropped my phone. How the hell do you not know? Please tell me you’re not -”

“Making him sleep on the couch? Well, yes. This isn’t the fifteenth century where I sold my body for a goat or something.”

“So the poor man has to sleep on the couch indefinitely?”

“Well, technically, I’ve slept on the couch the past couple of days. I had some sort of stomach bug.”

“That sucks, Ems, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Killian took good care of me.

“Did he?” Once again, Ruby’s voice was laced with unspoken meaning.

“Don’t start, Ruby, he was just being nice.”

“If he took care of you when you were sick, I personally think you should let him back in the bed.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “I can’t let him back in bed if he was never in it to begin with.”

“Girl, I would change that arrangement ASAP.”

Emma just laughed and shook her head. “Ruby -”

“Emma,” her friend countered, “if you’re going to be married to that for a year, you might as well enjoy it.”

“And the purpose of this call is exactly . . . “

“Fine, fine,” Ruby muttered, “straight to business, if that’s what you want.”

“Yes. Please.”

“Okay, well Regina asked me to call and go over your itinerary for the book promotion.”

Emma rose from her chair to go back inside and find her laptop so she could pull up her calendar. “That’s good. I feel so out of the loop. I mean, I’m back to normal at my practice, but the new book has honestly been the last thing on my mind.”

“I don’t blame you with that fine piece of -”

“Ruby,” Emma cut her off, “focus.”

“Right, right, okay . . . so, we’ve got that interview set up on The Tiana Show. And Regina did tell you that will also have a Q&A segment with the audience, right?”

“Mhm,” Emma said as she scrolled through her calendar, “yeah, I made a note of that.”

“They also requested that Killian be there, and Regina okayed it.”

“Wait - what?”

Ruby’s voice was reassuring. “They just want him in the audience. You know, so they can pan to his reactions and stuff.”

Emma slouched back on the couch and wearily rubbed her forehead. “Ruby, how could the two of you not check with me first? Killian has a business to run. He might not be able to take off to New York in the middle of the week.”

“I don’t know, the man seems pretty willing to come running when you call.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, never mind,” Ruby said hurriedly. She changed the subject to the next item on Emma’s itinerary, and Emma didn’t press it. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what her friend meant by the comment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Killian came home from work, he had a huge pot of chicken noodle soup that Elsa had made. It made Emma wonder if the woman cooked anything but soup. She was also grateful for something to eat that wasn’t toast. Personally, she could go for a cheeseburger, but she doubted Killian would agree.

He did, however, agree to eating outside on the back porch. He also said nothing when Emma slathered a hunk of French bread with butter. The bit she had at lunch hadn’t bothered her stomach, not that she would tell Killian that.

“Why do you look so nervous?” Killian asked her after blowing on a spoonful of soup.

Emma jabbed at a chunk of chicken with her spoon rather than looking at him. “I just have to ask you something, and I’m a little nervous you’ll be pissed.”

His forehead creased. “Why would I be? Emma, seriously, you can ask me anything.”

Emma gave him a tentative smile. “That’s sweet, but it’s just . . . well, my agent kind of agreed to something for you.”

Killian rested his elbows on the table. “Okay, I guess that was inconsiderate of her, but I’m not going to blow up about it or anything. Especially not at you.”

Emma let out a breath of air. “Good, and I told Ruby that they need to ask first from here on out.”

Killian tore a piece of bread from the loaf and dipped it into his soup. “So, what is it? I may have to tell them no, depending on what it is, but . . . “

He trailed off and shrugged as if to say he would have an open mind about it.

“They want you to go with me to do a talk show in New York City in a couple of weeks. Not to be interviewed or anything,” Emma rushed to add, “just to be in the audience. The show wants you there for like, reactions or whatever while they’re interviewing me.”

Killian nodded, completely calm, and it honestly threw her more than if he’d gotten pissed. “That’s fine with me. When is it?”

“A week from this coming Wednesday?”

He shook his head at her as a smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “You don’t have to phrase it as a question. I don’t bite, love. Unless you ask me to, that is.”

He punctuated the innuendo with a wink, and she rolled her eyes as she laughed. “You think you’re cute, don’t you?”

“I try.”

“So can you do it?”

“I don’t see why not. I don’t have any plans.”

“But isn’t this your busy time of year? I mean, with all the tourists around.”

He reached out and took her hand. “Not so much that I can’t take one day to support your career.”

Emma felt her jaw drop slightly, and her gaze flicked to where his thumb was caressing her knuckles. When he saw her expression, he quickly pulled his hand away and cleared his throat.

“I mean, that’s the whole reason for this arrangement, aye?”

“Right,” Emma said with a nod, “to save my career.”

Silence fell between them as they continued eating their soup. Emma drained her bowl with a sigh, almost embarrassed at how ravenously she had eaten.

“Did that hit the spot?”

“Definitely,” she replied, patting her stomach, “I just hope I don’t regret it later.”

“I’m sure if your appetite has returned that you’ll be fine. Besides, it was soup.”

She nodded, regarding him thoughtfully as he continued to leisurely eat his own dinner. “So,” she finally worked up the courage to ask, leaning her elbows on the table, “your half of the bargain was that I would casually help your brother out with his marriage. But from what I see, they’re fine.”

Now it was Killian’s jaw dropping as he paused his eating, spoon held in midair. Emma arched one brow at him.

“Well,” he finally said, resting his spoon on the table, “they do love each other tremendously, and Elsa’s good for Liam -”

“But?”

“But, there’s been some tension lately.”

Emma searched his face intently as she rested her chin on her clasped hands. She didn’t know why in the world he would lie about his brother needing her help, but it felt like he was grasping for words. “Tension?”

“Aye, tension. Elsa’s ready to start a family, you see, and Liam -”

“Doesn’t want kids?”

“No, no, it’s not that. He does. It’s just . . . he wants to be sure they’re ready. Financially speaking.”

“That’s wise. Having children isn’t something you do lightly.”

“And Elsa understands that, but she -”

Emma lifted a hand. “If you say anything about her biological clock, I might dump the rest of that soup over your head.”

His eyes widened at that. “Okay, I sense a touchiness -”

She gave him a withering glare. “I just don’t like women being treated like they have a shelf life, that’s all.”

Killian leaned back in his seat, his arms crossed, his brow furrowed. Uh-oh. “So you’re going to deny basic biology?”

“What basic biology?”

“That there are a certain number of years -”

“Choose your words very carefully, buddy.”

His hands dropped to the table, and she noticed that his hands were now clenched in fists. “All I’m saying is that Elsa’s waited the first five years of their marriage for something she wants deeply, and my brother is being way too practical. As usual.”

“You have to be practical - it’s a lifetime commitment!”

“But no one can ever be one hundred percent prepared!”

This had quickly gotten out of hand, both their voices rising slightly, and Emma wasn’t even sure where the conversation had gone off the rails. She took a deep breath and when she spoke again, she used her professional therapist voice.

“It’s a big decision that you shouldn’t rush into.”

Killian leaned across the table, his eyes flashing. “Or it’s something that scares you to death, scares the hell out of you actually because you never had a good example of what a father should be. So even though you want it more than you ever wanted anything, that fear holds you back. So you wait, then wait some more, until one day you’ve waited too long!”

He rose from the table then, so forcefully that the chair behind him flew backwards and wobbled, almost toppling over. Then Killian turned and left, the screen porch door slamming behind him as he headed down the beach.

Emma just sat there for a moment, processing what the hell just happened, and suddenly understanding dawned. She didn’t have a phD in psychology for nothing.

This had nothing at all to do with Elsa and Liam.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Killian came to a dead stop halfway down the beach when he realized what he was doing. He leaned over his knees, taking big gulps of air. It wasn’t from the exertion of his run - he was in better shape than that - it was the sudden fear washing over him. How could he be this stupid twice? And Emma was just getting over being sick. What if she tried to follow him, got dizzy, and . . . and . . .

He couldn’t finish the thought. Instead, after one more deep breath, he raced back the way he had come. The fear was even worse when he saw how far he’d run. The house seemed so far away . . .

Finally, he slowed down right at the back of the house. In the distance, he saw Emma by the fire pit talking to Anna. Relief flooded through him, and he suddenly felt like he’d run a 10k in less than a minute. Once again, he was leaning over, bracing his hands on his knees. Emma turned towards him, but he couldn’t tell from here if she was angry or not. Then she turned back to Anna, gesturing in his direction. Anna nodded, then turned around and went back into the house.

Killian straightened as Emma drew closer. Her arms were crossed, holding a sweater around her frame, and the ocean breeze tugged at her hair. Even when she got close, her expression was unreadable.

“I’m sorry.”

Seemed as good a place as any to start.

She tilted her head at him. “I’m sorry too. I didn’t know.”

Killian blinked, then looked back over Emma’s shoulder at his brother’s house. He sighed, “Anna told you?”

Emma nodded, then her expression changed, and her eyes widened. “Wait - did you race back here because you were worried about me?”

Killian ran a hand wearily over his face. “It was just so eerily the same. A fight, me running off -”

Emma stopped his words with a gentle hand to his arm. “Her death wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. It was just a senseless accident.”

“You don’t understand, Emma. We fought about . . . “ he swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. “We were renovating our house, on the other side of Storybrooke. We added on a new master suite, giving us three bedrooms instead of two, and then Milah suddenly starts referring to one of them as a nursery.” He turned to look out at the water, his hand raking through his hair. Emma said nothing.

“I always brushed her off with a joke or something. Finally, we talked about it, and I told her I wasn’t sure we were in a good place financially. The truth was, I was scared.”

“Of what?”

He turned to look into her green eyes. “Of failing. As a father. My dad left us when we were kids, you see, and . . . well, how was I supposed to know what a good father looked like?”

Emma just nodded. “I understand that fear.” She settled down in the sand and motioned for him to join her. He did, knowing she might still be weak from being sick.

Killian shook his head and sighed before continuing. “But it meant so much to her. Her first husband never wanted kids either, was really volatile about the issue, and it got to be a touchy subject between us.”

Emma said nothing, just looked at him with an expression that made him feel it was safe to go on. No wonder she was so good at her job.

“One day, we were in the middle of working on the house, and she confronted me about it, wouldn’t let me deflect. We ended up getting into a huge fight, and I took off in anger. Just like I did tonight.” He struggled to go on, lowering his head so she couldn’t see the tears starting to form.

“You don’t need to explain the rest if you don’t want to. Anna told me.”

“If I had been there, she might not have fallen off that ladder.”

“You don’t know that.”

“She might have lived.”

“Killian,” she said in a soft voice, “Anna told me what the coroner said. She broke her neck. Even if you had been there, you wouldn’t have been able to save her.”

He shook his head, clenching his jaw. “But she might not even have been on that ladder if I hadn’t taken off. She might have been more careful. She was probably so distracted . . . “

“Killian look at me,” Emma knelt down in front of him in the sand and took his face in her hands. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I was only gone for ten minutes. No one expects their life to change that much in ten minutes.”

Emma gave him an encouraging smile. She had also started to stroke his face, and he wondered if she even realized she was doing it.

“Exactly. Ten minutes. How could you have possibly known what would happen? You left for a few minutes to calm down. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I . . . I didn’t . . . it wasn’t my fault.”

Emma nodded. Liam had told him the same thing a thousand times. So had Elsa. And David. Yet for some reason, here on the beach with Emma’s soothing voice and gentle hands, the truth of it finally washed over him like the waves crashing against the shore. Something broke inside of him, and his head fell forward onto Emma’s shoulder. She wrapped one arm around him while she stroked his hair with her other hand. He waited for tears to come, for sobs to shake his body, but instead he felt lighter somehow. He supposed he’d shed an ocean of tears for Milah over the years, and nothing but a shaky sigh was left.

“She wouldn’t want you to blame yourself,” Emma told him.

He pulled back and took Emma’s hands in his. “You’re right. She wouldn’t.” He stared down at Emma’s hands for a minute, rubbing his thumbs over her knuckles. The sound of the ocean surrounded them, and he slowly breathed in the salty smell of it, then exhaled.

“Better?” Emma asked.

He nodded, feeling slightly sheepish all of a sudden. He rose to his feet and offered Emma a hand, which she took. Once she was up, he turned towards the house, but she didn’t relinquish his hand.

“You know,” he told her, “I never scheduled a session.”

She laughed. “Lucky for you I had an opening.”

“How much do I owe you?” he teased, bumping her hip.

“This one’s on the house, Jones.”

Despite their fight and the intense conversation on the beach, they spent the rest of the evening the way they normally did - on the couch with Netflix. Around eleven, Emma stretched and yawned.

“You’ve got me falling into the sleeping habits of an old man,” she told him, poking his leg with her toe.

“Hey, I may have a few years on you, but I’ve retained my youthful glow.”

She laughed and rolled her eyes as she rose from the couch, wrapping an afghan around her. “What about you?”

A yawn cracked his own jaw as he rubbed at his tired eyes. “I think I’m ready to turn this couch into my bed for the night.”

Emma chewed on her lower lip as she regarded him carefully. “Why don’t we just share the bed?”

He arched a brow at her. “Seriously?”

She shrugged. “Yeah, why not? I mean, we’re both adults.”

Killian rubbed at his jaw as he thought it over. He wouldn’t lie, he was sick of the couch. And as long she was comfortable with it . . .

“Come on,” Emma said, giving him a playful kick, “don’t make a big deal out of it. You know you miss sleeping in a real bed.”

“Well, if you’re sure -”

“One hundred percent.”

“Okay then.” He tossed aside the remote, got up, and followed Emma down the hall. She had already changed into her pajamas, so she brushed her teeth while Killian changed in the bedroom. He went ahead and slipped under the sheets and flipped off the light before Emma came in. Why was his heart pounding like a fifteen year old?

He heard Emma shut off the faucet and flip off the bathroom light. “Whoah, it’s dark!” Emma cried as she stepped into the room. “Why are you hiding? Do you sleep in the nude?”

“No,” Killian protested, “well, not totally. I mean, I’m wearing boxers.” Shut up, he reprimanded himself, you sound like a nervous idiot.

Emma swore under her breath as she tripped over something on her way to the bed. Knowing her, it was a pair of shoes. He felt the bed dip as she got in and wrapped herself up in the covers. He tried to make her out in the dark, but all he could see was her hair.

“Good night,” Emma whispered.

“Good night,” he whispered back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Killian was awakened the next morning because something was tickling his nose. It was Emma’s hair - spread all over her pillow and his. He brushed it out of his face as he rolled over. Emma was curled up on her side, her back to him. He took the opportunity to admire her creamy shoulders on display. One strap of her tank top had slipped, and the sight had him getting hard. He was just about to slip out of bed before she noticed how - er - excited he was to see her, when she suddenly rolled over to face him.

“Hey,” she said groggily.

“Hey,” he answered, his voice strained. He tried to inch farther away from her without making it obvious.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

He blinked. “Uh, why would I be embarrassed? Like you said last night, we’re adults.”

“Exactly,” Emma replied through a yawn. She arched her back and stretched both arms over her head, which definitely didn’t help his erection. “And I’m also an adult who counsels couples and has extensive knowledge of sexual physiology and psychology.”

“Are you bragging, Swan?”

“No. I’m just trying to explain why I understand your situation. After all, it’s extremely normal for a healthy man to wake up with an erection.”

She smirked at him as he coughed. He wished he had control over the red creeping up his cheeks. He quickly recovered, however, and winked at her.

“That confident that I’m happy to see you?”

She shrugged, that damn strap still teasing him. “Guess it’s good I’m not a cuddler, or there would be no doubt.”

“Oh trust me, love,” he told her, dropping his voice an octave, “when I jab you with my sword, you’ll feel it.”

Now she was the one blinking rapidly as a blush stained her cheeks. He laughed as he flung the sheets aside.

“Now look away, darling, unless you want an eyeful. My boxers have never been able to contain my prodigious manhood.”

She didn’t respond at first, and he chuckled again. But when he reached the door of the bathroom, his pillow hit him in the back of the head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sharing a bed was changing Emma’s sleeping habits. She was getting up earlier for two reasons: one, she had lied to Killian. She apparently was a cuddler. Every morning her eyes flew open before the sun was up when her body sensed something warm, solid, and hairy beneath her cheek. She always extricated herself from his embrace before he woke up. Second, Killian had convinced her to ditch her treadmill and join him on his jogs. She had to admit, she looked forward to her morning workout more with the combination of the gorgeous setting, Smee’s encouragement, and Killian’s company.

He wasn’t chatty on the morning runs, for which she was grateful. She preferred getting in the zone when she exercised. However, they were talking over breakfast and coffee each day. Now that she was up earlier, she had time for more than a bagel as she dashed out the door. She could honestly say that they were friends now, and she enjoyed his company. She had hopes that things wouldn’t be weird after all this was over, and they could still hang out. Especially since they worked in the same building.

Emma was far more aware of the sounds coming from below her than she used to be (heavy metal music aside). She now knew the difference between the sound of the table saw versus the sander, for example, though both were faint by the time they reached her ears. Her clients probably didn’t even notice.

She also knew when he was meeting with a client. The sounds in his workshop ceased and the pleasant timbre of his voice drifted up through the vents. Not enough for her to eavesdrop, but enough to bring a smile to her face. He was talented at what he did, and she wanted him to succeed.

Right now, she could hear the buzz of his table saw as she listened to her current client talk about finally setting boundaries without apologies with the man she had just started dating. Emma was encouraged by her progress, and honestly proud of the young woman. When she first started seeing Emma, she was broken and filled with social anxiety after going through a very public breakup. It had taken a year for the woman to even accept a date from a man who had already proven himself as a good friend. Now, here she was speaking up for herself without apology.

“You know, Jasmine,” Emma told her, “I think you are at a very healthy place. How about we try meeting every six weeks instead of monthly?”

“Really?” the woman asked, beaming. “I think that would work. Does that mean I don’t need the citalopram anymore?”

“No, I think you should still take it. Talk it over with your doctor, but it’s a really safe medication, and ten milligrams a day is a very small dose. Besides, remember what I always say?”

“Medication is just another of my tools to help me cope and nothing to be ashamed of.”

Emma grinned. “Exactly.”

They both rose, and Emma showed Jasmine to the door at the top of the stairs. Over the brunette's shoulder, she saw Killian welcome in a smiling redhead. The woman flipped her hair over one shoulder as she laughed, then she laid a hand on Killian’s bicep. Killian smiled back, then - Emma’s breath caught - he reached up and scratched behind his ear! Emma’s lips pressed together in a thin line. That was his tell when he was nervous - usually sexually nervous. Emma barely heard Jasmine’s goodbye as her head spun. She leaned over to try and see the pair, but Killian led the redhead further into his shop and out of sight.

Emma went back into her office and started pacing in the small waiting area. Ariel! That was the woman’s name. Killian had made an arbor for her wedding to Eric, similar to the one he had made for her. Well, this Eric might want to know that his wife was flirting with other people’s husbands.

As soon as the thought entered her brain, Emma tried to put on her therapist hat and remind her subconscious that the woman’s red hair had triggered memories of Walsh’s infidelity with Zelena.

Her subconscious was hearing none of it.

Emma stilled her movements and cocked her head as she tried to make out the low voices from the first floor. Were they laughing again? The woman sure was smiling a hell of a lot.

Maybe she always smiles a lot. Therapist Emma tried to say.

Her subconscious ignored Therapist Emma.

Emma marched over to the floor vent near the door so she could hear better. All she could make out was Killian’s accent and Ariel’s more bubbly voice, but not what they were saying. She rolled her eyes and let out a huff of breath before getting down on her hands and knees. Wait, was that more laughter? She leaned closer, turning her ear to the vent and concentrating. She thought she heard Ariel say Killian’s name. In her mind’s eye, she saw her smiling brightly at him, flicking that unfairly beautiful shade of red hair over one shoulder, and gushing, “Oh Killian, you are just so funny.”

Emma snapped back to reality and realized that it had gone quiet. Why were they quiet all of a sudden? What were they doing? Emma’s ear was practically pressed to the vent at this point, and -

“What the bloody hell are you doing?”

Emma let out a strangled yelp as she jumped up from the floor. Killian was standing there in her doorway, looking at her with confusion etched on his brow and barely contained humor teasing the corners of his lips. She blinked and suddenly wanted the floor to open up and swallow her. She had been acting like a complete fool!

“Umm . . . I was . . . looking for something. What are you doing up here?”

He arched a brow at her and struggled to keep a smile at bay. “It’s lunch time. We were going to go over to Granny’s - remember? What did you lose?”

“Lose?”

“You said you lost something,” he said, gesturing to where she’d been on all fours like a dog.

“My earring,” she lied quickly, “I thought maybe it rolled into the vent.”

“Oh,” he said, “well let me help you -”

“No that’s okay!” she told him hurriedly. “I found it, see?” She held up an empty hand with the fingertips pinched together as if she were holding something, then she pretended to fiddle with her earring. Thank God she wore studs!

Killian arched a brow at her, then sauntered close. So close, his chest almost brushed hers. She had to tilt her head to look up at him. He leaned down, his lips almost brushing her ear.

“You mean this earring, love?” he purred. He reached up and caressed the ruby stud with his calloused fingers. “The one you were already wearing when you first stood up?”

He pulled back just enough so he could look her in the eye, and the sinful smile upon his face should have made her furious.

But it didn’t. Damn him, it almost made her melt into a puddle of goo on the floor.

HIs eyes scanned her face, and for one thrilling moment she thought he would kiss her. Kiss her with absolutely no one watching. But then he pulled back and walked backwards towards the door.

“You coming, love? Grilled cheese at Granny’s?”

“Uh . . . yeah,” she muttered.

Emma wanted a way to wipe that shit eating grin off his face, but she couldn’t figure out how to do it.

“Oh and Emma,” Killian said before she could head down the stairs, “Ariel was smiling and laughing because she and Eric need me to make them a cradle. For their new baby.”

His satisfied smile as he sauntered past her down the stairs made her want to kick him in the ass as hard as she could. Mostly. But another part of her was too busy being relieved about Ariel’s order.

[littlespoonevan]

Ik you’re probably a busy person but if you ever wrote a fic about gallavich being soft, domestic husbands I think I’d combust

anon said:Can we pretend i didn’t just said that? Gallavich

anon said: "Can we pretend I didn’t just say that?“ for Gallavich please!

asjksdh okay i have been thinking abt this for weeks. this is disgustingly domestic and i’m so sorry but i legit Could Not help myself lol enjoy

*

Ian bats aimlessly at his alarm clock when it startsringing, curling his arms back around Mickey as soon as he gets it to stop.“S’your turn to make breakfast,” he mutters, words half muffled by Mickey’sshoulder.

Mickey makes a sound somewhere between a groan and agrunt, dragging the covers up tighter around them. “’m supposed to get Frannyup.”

“You did that yesterday,” Ian mumbles, half-heartedlypushing at Mickey’s side only to reel him back in close against him when hemoves an inch.

Mickey grumbles something unintelligible, pullingIan’s arm tight around him like it’s a blanket. “Can’t Carl do it? Earn hisfuckin’ keep here?”

“Carl’s got the early shift this morning,” Ianreplies with a great amount of effort. Fuck he wants to go back to sleep. “He’salready gone.”

Mickey huffs but neither of them make an attempt tomove, the cold January morning seeming far too unappealing when they’re wrappedup so comfortably in each other’s arms. Ian is just on the brink of fallingback to sleep when the tell-tale patter of footsteps make their way into theirroom. Holding back a whimper, Ian lifts his head, squinting over Mickey’sshoulder to where Franny’s standing patiently in front of their bed.

“Franny, who helped you get ready yesterday morning?”he asks.

“Uncle Ian!” she announces proudly, pointing straightat him, and Ian doesn’t need to look down to know Mickey’s grinning smugly evenwith his eyes still closed.

“Have fun making breakfast,” Mickey tells him,finally deigning to get up properly as he sits up and holds his arms out toFranny. “Come on, kid, let’s play naptime before you get dressed.”

Ian lets out a long-suffering sigh, climbing overMickey as he picks Franny up and plonks her on the spot Ian just vacated.“Remember, count to one hundred and then you wake Uncle Mickey up from hisnap,” Mickey tells her, waiting for Franny’s serious nod before he lies backdown, throws Ian one last satisfied smirk and closes his eyes.

Ian flips him off when Franny’s not looking and dragshimself into the bathroom.

*

Mickey makes his way down the stairs with Frannyfifteen minutes later, both of them fully dressed and presentable, and fightsback a grin at the sight of Ian at the stove. As soon as they enter kitchen hedeposits Franny in her chair at the table next to Liam and ambles over to Ian,hugging him from behind and burying his face between Ian’s shoulder blades.

“You already got like ten extra minutes in bed,” Iancomplains, smacking his hand lightly with the spatula. When Mickey doesn’tdignify that with a response he continues with a soft, “You want eggs?”

“Yes please,” Mickey mumbles, taking a second tomarvel at the fact that this is somehow what counts for normality in his lifenow.

“Liam,” Ian calls. “You want toast with your eggs?”

“Yeah,” Liam says as Mickey hears the scraping of thechair on the linoleum floor. “I’ll get the toaster, your husband seemsincapacitated.”

“Hey, I’m doin’ just fine right here,” Mickey retorts,mouth lifting up in satisfaction at the way Ian leans into him a little more.“But throw on a slice for me too, would ya?”

He doesn’t miss the very deliberate eyeroll Liamthrows him as he passes them but Mickey sees him put an extra slice of bread inthe toaster for him so he decides not to bitch about it.

Ian touches his hand then, looking over his shoulderto get Mickey’s attention. “You able to pick up Franny from Kev and V’s later?”he asks. “I’m not gonna be home ‘til after 6.”

“I got it,” Mickey says, leaning up on his toes to presstheir lips together before Ian can go back to focusing on the eggs.

“Thank you,” Ian murmurs, covering Mickey’s hand withhis own for a minute before he shakes him off to start divvying up the eggsonto plates. “Liam, make sure you got everything for school alright? We’releaving straight after breakfast.”

“Got it,” Liam says, sliding past them with aplateful of toast. And it’s weird, Mickey thinks, how much of a routine they’veestablished in such a short time. Hell, Debbie’s only been for a week or two.But this feels so settled, so comfortable, Mickey can’t really remember whatthey used to do in the mornings before this.

*

As soon as Ian steps through the door that evening hedrops his gear bag heavily on the floor, just about managing to hang his coaton the hook and toe off his shoes before he’s diving headfirst onto the couchand into Mickey’s lap. He spends approximately ten seconds rearranging himselfuntil he’s curled on his side with his head on Mickey’s lap before he’s contentthat this is how he’s gonna stay for the rest of the night. “Mm, hey.”

Mickey huffs out a laugh, hand travelling to Ian’shead as his fingers run through Ian’s hair. “Hey. Long day?”

“There was a car accident downtown,” Ian sighs,closing his eyes as Mickey’s ministrations ease the tension in his temples.“Three cars and a van. It was messy.”

Mickey hums in sympathy and Ian is so fucking gladhe’s home with him again. “You eat anything?”

“Not since lunch,” Ian yawns.

“Wanna order a pizza for dinner then?”

Ian feels his mouth lift in a smile, blindly reachingup to pat whatever part of Mickey he can reach. “This is why I married you.”

“Just this, huh?” Mickey asks sceptically. “Nothin’to do with you bein’ obsessed with me since you were fifteen?”

Ian rolls onto his back to stare up at Mickey withshrewd eyes. “Pretty sure it was a mutual obsession.”

“In your dreams, firecrotch,” Mickey scoffs but thesoftness in his eyes betrays him. It always does.

Ian loves it.

“Everything go okay with Liam and Franny?”

“Last I checked Liam was doin’ homework and Frannywas colouring,” Mickey says. “They’re in the kitchen.”

Ian nods, finds Mickey’s hand and gives it gratefulsqueeze. With Lip moved out and renovating the new house and Debbie potentiallygetting locked up, Ian honestly doesn’t know what he would’ve done if Mickeyhadn’t been here to help him deal with all of this.

As if knowing he’s being discussed, Liam comes intothe living room, announcing his presence with a snort – no doubt at theirposition on the couch.

“Hey, little man,” Ian greets, holding an arm out togesture Liam over.

He comes, albeit reluctantly since he’s currently atthat age where he’s pretending he’s too old for affection. It just makes Ianwant to hug him harder, make up for all the ways Liam got left to the waysidethe past few months.

He pulls Liam onto the edge of the couch, holding himin place with an arm around his middle. “You have a good day at school?”

“It was fine,” he says, ever an open book.

“How’d the book report go?”

“Crushed it, obviously.”

Ian grins, reaching up with his free hand to ruffleLiam’s hair. “Hell yeah you did. You want pizza for dinner?”

Liam turns to look between him and Mickey, eyebrowsraised suspiciously like they’re bullshitting him. “Always.”

“Get the takeout menu off the fridge and call it in,”Ian tells him. “Pick whatever you want.”

“No fucking anchovies though,” Mickey warns.

Liam waves him off, standing up when Ian releases himand scuttling back into the kitchen.

Ian relaxes back into the couch then, head stillpillowed on Mickey’s thigh as he closes his eyes once again.

“You plannin’ on staying like this all night?” Mickeyasks bemusedly, even as he reaches his hand up to run over Ian’s arm.

“Nah, I’ll sit up to eat my pizza.”

Mickey lets out a laugh, touch making Ian tingle ashe scratches at the base of Ian’s skull. “Whatever. Don’t come cryin’ to mewhen you get a crick in your neck.”

*

Later on, when they’ve gorged on too much pizza andMickey is slipping pleasantly into a food coma Ian begrudgingly drags himselfaway from Mickey’s side to put Franny to bed. “Come on, munchkin,” he says,swinging her up into his arms and stepping over the toys on the floor to getaround the couch. “Time to brush your teeth.”

Mickey watches him go and feels a fierce kind offondness burn in his stomach. He always thought he was immune to that girlybullshit of finding guys who are good with kids attractive but evidently not.Or maybe he just finds Ian attractive – in every context.

He doesn’t realise he’s being watched until Liamspeaks, making him snap his gaze guiltily away from Ian’s retreating figure upthe stairs.

“Are you and Ian gonna move out?” Liam asks andMickey screws his face up in confusion.

“Why the fu- why would we do that?” he says, clearinghis throat. He’s been trying to swear less in front of the kids. Fat fuckinglot of good it does when Carl curses like a champ. “We got a perfectly goodhouse here.”

Liam shrugs. “Fiona did and now Lip has too. It kindof makes the most sense for you two to move out next since you’re married andall.”

Mickey eyes him for a minute, catches sight of theway Liam’s shoulders hunch slightly under his scrutiny and feels his own oldabandonment issues come to the surface. He’s pretty sure he knows why the kid’sasking. “Nah, man,” he says casually. “Me and Ian are on probation and have nomoney after the wedding. We’re only both just getting back to work – we’re notgoing anywhere for a while.”

Liam nods and he looks way too fucking pensive for aten year old.

“Besides,” Mickey finds himself continuing, feelingawkward and entirely unsure of how to navigate this conversation. He’s stillgetting used to being sincere with people who aren’t Ian. “Even if we did moveout you know your brother’d kill me if we didn’t take you with us.”

And it’s worth it to see the way Liam immediatelyperks up. “Seriously?”

“Hell yeah. Ian’s not gonna leave you alone untilyou’re eighteen. Prepare yourself; you’re gonna be sick of him by then.”

Liam pauses for a moment before saying a quiet, “Thanks,Mickey,” and wearing a genuine smile on his face for once as he pushes himselfout of his chair.

Ian comes back down the stairs as he starts to leavethe room, stalling him with a hand on his shoulder. “You okay, buddy?”

“Yeah,” Liam nods. “Just gonna read for a while beforebed.”

“Nerd,” Ian teases gently, an affectionate smile onhis face that does things to Mickey’s heart. “See you in the morning.”

Ian locks eyes with him as soon as Liam’s gone andMickey really thought he’d be used to the way his insides go all warm when Ianlooks at him like that but apparently not. Ian takes a seat next to him againand Mickey somehow ends up with his legs half draped over Ian’s as he turns toface him. He’d say it’s part of the honeymoon phase but truth is, as soon as hefinally felt comfortable enough to touch Ian however and whenever he wanted hecouldn’t stop. He can’t now either.

“Thank you,” Ian says when they’re settled, one ofhis arms around Mickey’s shoulders while his fingers dance over the exposedskin there. “For helping out, I mean. I know this isn’t exactly how you plannedfor our first few weeks of married life to go.”

Mickey offers him a self-deprecating shrug. “You knowI don’t mind,” he says softly. “Besides, it’s good practice, right?”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth he wants totake them back. Not least of all because Ian is suddenly staring at him withwide eyes, mouth dropped open in shock.

“Okay can we pretend I didn’t just say that?” hestarts but Ian cuts him off with a frantic shake of his head.

“Nope!” he declares, looking way too fuckingdelighted as he grabs hold of Mickey’s wrist. “Did you just say you’re enjoyingdomestic life? With kids?”

Mickey rolls his eyes so hard they almost roll rightout of his head, shoving Ian’s chest. “No, I did not say that. Fuck you.”

“Little bit you did though,” Ian grins, wrestling himuntil he’s pulled Mickey beneath him and is leaning up over him on his elbows.“Mickey Milkovich: house husband. Who would’ve thought?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Mickey grouses but there’s noheat behind the words.

Ian’s expression softens and he leans down untilthere’s hardly an inch of space between them. “For the record,” he murmurs. “Ididn’t think it was possible to be more attracted to you until I saw youcooking dinner with a toddler on your hip.”

Mickey groans, covering his face with his hands tohide the fact he’s about to start blushing hard. “Jesus christ, Ian.”

Ian attempts to pull his hands away and after a smallsigh of defeat, Mickey lets him. “You need to go steal a car or something? Makeyourself feel like a bad boy again?”

Mickey glares at him and tries desperately hard notto smile. It’s not his fault Ian’s goofy-lookin’ grin is so fucking infectious.“I fucking hate you.”

“Hate you too,” Ian beams, closing the distance betweenthem and drawing Mickey into a languid kiss.

And Mickey’s helpless not to kiss back, helplessagainst the way his toes curl when Ian flicks his tongue against his. Twistinghis hands in Ian’s hair, he pulls him down further and holds him place.

Okay, so maybe he doesn’t hate Ian all that much.

*

[1ddiscourseoftheday]

🗣Tues 15 Dec ‘20🙊

Anyone order their daily with EXTRA DISCOURSE today? Lucky you, I guess, I'd send it back to the kitchen if I had the option but this is more a 'you'll take what you get and like it' kind of establishment so here we are! EAT UP we got Liam and Lou Teasdale making everyone mad, Louis and Harry's teams forgetting they're supposed to be mortal enemies, and Zayn?? Getting papped?? Omg is Z3 really coming this time? I've been burned so many times before (flown too close to the sun) but what if....... So first Gigi and zaby stroller were papped, then Zayn was papped in his usual way-- 'if you can get a good picture of me in the seconds it takes me to walk from my front door to the car have at it, that's exactly all you get'-- and then a fan reported seeing Zigi and zaby at a pizza restaurant. Zayn's hair is bleached white blond and that's about all I can tell you except that Z NEVER gets papped (or spotted really) for nothing so I am excite!!

Liam's back! He did the postponed-from-last-Tues hour long live for Stand Up To Cancer (and raised $16k!) and he's got a show in two days so I'd say his extremely brief breather is probably done with, whether he got the time he needed to be happy about coming back or not. He seems in good shape for the live though, even if he does say “its been a really long day, you don't even know, REALLY long” and that what he wants most for Christmas is “to have a little bit of time to reflect.” But he says he is going to take some time out and go away and write music “for the first time in a very long time,” in the new year, nice! He mentions how he went up to Sweden for recording recently and says it ”went really well I'm really really excited” about the new music and, uhhh, “got something sent through from Mick Fleetwood while I was over in Sweden writing, some guitar stuff, which was amazing, and he was dressed like santa at the time!” I...what??? I'll just... leave that there?? About other bands, he says that he's become a big fan of the Wanted over time, that “someone Zayn-ed out,” of Little Mix but “Zayn left for pretty much the same reasons and I do feel for them,” and “are 5SOS still together? Did they pull an us I thought they pulled an us?” He said yes, it's so great about Louis' show, and “it was great, and do you know what, like listening through those lyrics, it’s really nice to hear the truth in his music because obviously I mean I know all of the full story about him, and [pause].. and uh... his relationship with his girlfriend and whatever else,” SKLDYSSKKJ.

This long live also had him responding to screen comments he would usually ignore (though thank GOD he only reads but doesn't answer 'what happened with Niall in Japan' please tell me the questioner wasn't trying to get him to comment on the 'violently masturbating' story), anyway so we got Liam on touching his hair if larry is real-- “of course that's not going to happen don't be silly,” and on whether he thinks 'larry is disrespectful' “sometimes I do... actually that's not true, all the time I do.” Well he's not wrong though I'd expand that to 'all the fans' but if I had to wade through a million “touch your nose if larry is real” comments every time I was promoting my own material, for ten years, I'd probably get tetchy too! He didn't say it was or wasn't real, as he himself pointed out he never WILL do that for REASONS; tbh I'm with Liam can people PLEASE stop being so embarrassing on main and let him live? ANYWAY, moving on, his Advent Alarm clock today is the sleep story edited down to be just Liam laughing for like 30 seconds, aka the exact edit that I suggested they should make a couple weeks ago, which I find frankly extremely alarming (ALARMing HA) are they... listening to me?? Well if Liam's management are looking for ideas BOY HAVE I GOT SOME FOR THEM hit me up fellas PLEASE.

Harry and Louis both announced further postponements of their UK and Europe tour shows, like really the same announcement and just fully back to back, I can only assume that after weeks of intensive hashing out to match up dates their teams have arrived at some kind of plan and were like cool let's announce! Louis has added some new shows, while Harry's new schedule is undisclosed as yet. Harry says “I really hope to play these shows and will have news for you in the new year on when they will take place.” Louis' new dates include previously omitted countries (Iceland! Austria!), and those tickets go on sale Friday. Harry did not respond to Rob Sheffield's awkward attempt to link Watermelon Sugar and WAP as being similar but he did like Megan Thee Stallion's post celebrating her successful year, and Vulture ranked Adore You in its top 5 videos of the year with a much better take on what Harry is all about, saying that it “highlights one of the singer’s best traits: his willingness to be delightfully weird.” Kid Harpoon said that he and Harry “wrote a song in Japan that may yet see the light of the day,” and Harry continues to roast him, disputing his songwriter of the year award-- “they found 8,000,000 opposing ballots in a bin behind his house! FRAUD!”

And last but most discourse-y-est of all, The Sun made waves today, pulling the most salacious parts of a Lou Teasdale interview with the Sex, Lies and DM Slides podcast from last week and bringing it to wider attention. In the interview she talked at length about systemic discrimination against women working in the music industry and her own work experiences, which naturally include (very briefly) touching on her highest profile job- the years she spent traveling with 1D. In this context she says “you kind of can’t sleep with them [the band]- it’s quite important to keeping your job... some people would come in and like you know assistants and stuff and I think they would really think... that it was love and obviously it’s not,” and “it’s just the quickest way to lose your job- because then they’ve got a new girlfriend and she’s there and they don’t want you in the room.” She did not sell her story to The Sun she mentioned this in passing as part of an interview about her work experiences; she herself says, “I didn’t do an interview [with] the sun. I’ve never done that. I did a podcast with friends about loads of things.”

There is nothing remotely unlikely in this story, either in the concept that members of the band slept with girls casually (we know that certain of them did and there isn't even anything wrong with that in a situation of consent, the denial of it is as bizarre as scribbling out the beer bottle in a 28 year old man's hand), or that low level members (“assistants and stuff”) of the 150 person+ crew appeared and disappeared on a regular basis. The band were, to my guess, probably simply not paying very much attention to the serious ramifications of this carelessness and the consequences rather than demanding that people be fired, but I do very much hope they've learned over the years to be responsible for the kind of power that they have over other peoples' lives (something I really doubt they understood the extent of yet as very young people being dragged from one place to another who felt powerless themselves).

[bbrandy2002]

Fool’s Rush In

Part 10

I’m participating in @wackydrabbles​ prompt 71 “Dont be stubborn. Try it.”

Word Count: 1890

Pairing: Liam and Riley

Thanks @burnsoslow​ for beta reading and pretty much having to drag me across the finish line, as well as all the weeks and weeks of listening to me whine and pity myself.  And @emkay512​ for pre-reading and your encouraging words late Monday that made my whole night.

a/n: this is crack, plain and simple. I haven’t written since mid-october; just been paralyzed with fear over my own writing and this is my practice run and basically the best I could come up with. I’m going to try so so hard to finish this series

The new royal couple, fresh off their Vegas flight, stepped up to a makeshift podium the press had created on the tarmac. It was packed tightly with news station microphones crammed in every nook and cranny, one on top of the other. Voice recorders were spread across its surface, and the crown's private jet served as the backdrop. A bevy of frenzied reporters -- domestic and international -- pushed and elbowed their way into one another in hopes of getting the closest shot of the newlyweds and a chance to have their questions answered first.

“King Liam! Is the marriage binding?”

“How long have you known, Miss Brooks?”

“Were you trying to make a political statement by having a hooker at the ceremony?”

“Your Majesty! Will the monkey be joining your court soon?”

So many questions, most followed by laughter and snickers directed at the King and his bride.

Liam frowned as his eyes dashed side to side in a diligent effort to understand the literally thousands of questions that were lobbed at him all at once. He blinked rapidly as one flash of a camera after the next blinded and bleached his vision. Just as it would return to normal, another successive set of flashes would set him back again.

He had been a part of news conferences since he was a child, when he would watch his late father speak from different parts of the world, near and far, about this policy or that deal. Yet this was different. This was not only the biggest breaking story in Cordonia -- or even Europe -- but one that had swept the world. 

His drunken actions two nights ago, no doubt, would have created a stir; however, it was Maxwell's post on Instagram of the ceremony that now made him tabloid fodder. Everyone knew about the king who was married by his own brother and an Elvis impersonator, the leg-humping monkey that served as a ring bearer, and the chain-smoking, tube-top-wearing prostitute who was the maid of honor. As confident as Liam had been that he could handle this, as he'd dealt with so many other stories of intrigue regarding the monarchy, he couldn't dispel the twisting feeling that burrowed deep into the pit of his stomach.

Maybe Madeleine was right: he had become a laughingstock. A failure. Just one big fuck up.

As much as he hated to hear the things said about him, he could deal with it. In the morning, he would call Prince Harry to swap stories, survival tips, and perhaps share a good laugh about it.

It was just ...

Liam felt Riley's tiny hand grip his a little tighter. He wouldn't blame her one bit if his little pussycat turned around and headed back up the steps to the jet and returned to Las Vegas. The only thing Liam wanted to do was keep her shielded from the hurtful comments and insensitive questions. But to his astonishment, she stood there with all the feigned confidence in the world, flashing a big, beaming smile that lit his heart on fire, while staring back at him affectionately. She was handling the situation better than she was before they stepped off the plane. He knew she was doing it for him. God, she just makes everything better. 

Feeling a little more grounded and in control, Liam returned her smile. A touch of radiance sparkled between his eyes and hers, as if it were some sort of unspoken conversation only they understood. Riley knew exactly what he needed at that moment to rise above this scandal they were both being raked over the coals for: He needed her to be okay.

Raising his free hand to calm the crowd so that he might address their concerns, he noticed the press' attention and cameras suddenly shift away from him and into the distance. Murmurs and chatter soon erupted. Naturally, Liam's gaze followed suit -- towards a group of heavily-armed soldiers heading their way. They wore white hazmat uniforms and had self-contained breathing apparatus and personal protective equipment. Leading the charge was a well-dressed gentleman in a three-piece suit with a shiny bald head that glistened with heavy perspiration. 

He walked like he hadn't shit in weeks.

Liam squinted and lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the bright sunlight. “The hell is that?”

Riley inched closer to Liam and clasped his suit jacket. "What's happening right now? Who are all those people, Liam?"

Liam's forehead creased in puzzlement; he didn't know. Wrapping his arms protectively around Riley, he pulled her even closer but never answered the question. It wasn't until the uniformed men stopped briefly and pointed to Drake, who was standing with his arms crossed at the bottom of the stairs, that it suddenly became clear who they were looking for.

Reporters and onlookers had been so focused on Liam’s return with the American woman, they hadn’t noticed that the brooding Walker had exited the jet last among their posse. Just as everyone had watched replays and snippets of Maxwell’s Instagram video, they were also fully aware the King’s best friend wasn’t exactly returning to Cordonia … healthy … thanks to Maxwell’s Tik Tok sing-along. 

A video Drake Walker had no clue existed. 

 The crowd began to disperse in fear and panic. If men in hazmat suits were needed, they could only assume this went well beyond your casual, run-of-the-mill STD.

Still in no mood to play around, Drake started yelling obscenities and gradually backing away from the hazmat brigade that was closing in on him like a cheetah at a water buffalo hole. 

"Mr. Walker," a heavily echoed voice called out, sounding oddly reminiscent of Darth Vader through their breathing contraption, "we need you to come with us."

"The fuck I do." Drake shook his head emphatically while continuing to slide away from them. "I'll beat the shit out of all of ya if you so much as touch me."

"Now, Mr. Walker, don't be stubborn. Try it, and you'll find yourself with a nice little tranquilizer to the ass. Are you going to come with us willingly, or do we have to make this more difficult than it needs to be?"

Drake stood motionless in disbelief. "I don't even know what you guys want or what you think I did," he squawked with a hint of desperation in his tone.

"Tough titties. SEIZE HIM!"

With that order, Drake twisted on the heels of his boots and took off, dodging and weaving away from a bunch of men he had no clue why were even after him. 

He had a pretty good hunch, though, who set this chain of events in motion.

The bald guy in a three-piece suit walked up to Liam and flipped his badge open. "Your Majesty?"

Liam nodded, not bothering to acknowledge the man's credentials. "I am. What is the meaning of all this? What the hell are you doing with Drake?"

"Sir, if you will, it has come to our attention that Mr. Walker is a public health risk and highly contagious. We will have to secure him into our custody at once."

Liam scrunched up his face in utter confusion and stared back at the official before responding, “He just has case of crabs, syphilis, herpes, genital warts, gonorrhea, and chlamydia. You’re treating him like he’s about to start some damn worldwide pandemic. Without sexual contact and with heavy doses of medications and creams, Drake should be able to live a normal life like anyone else. So, as the ruler of this country, I am ordering your men to stand down at once.”

“My apologies, King Liam, but my orders come from the World Health Organization and the United Nations. You'll need to take this up with them. Dr. Wolfschitz was clear on the protocol."

"Dr. Wolfschitz?" Liam questioned as realization quickly set in. He twisted around to face Leo, who had this enormous shit-eating grin, the likes he'd never seen on him before. "You? You did this?"

“Walker messed with the wrong bull, little bro.” Leo stuck up his pointer fingers on both sides of his head with a menacing scowl and smugness in his tone. “Now he gets the horns.”

Liam swatted away one of Leo's finger horns. “This is serious, Leo. Not everything is a joke! You're going to fix this, NOW!"

Leo placed a comforting hand on his younger brother’s shoulder, patting it a few times before speaking softly to him. “Look, I know you’re upset right now. You two were very close. But the Drakester is going to a far better place. There’s a big open field and everything where he can run and play all day with others just like him. And all the meaty bones he can eat too … lucky bastard.”

Riley had to bury her face in Liam’s chest to prevent the laugh that threatened to escape, but the bobbing of her shoulders was something she couldn’t hide. 

“NOW, Leo!” 

Leo tried to hold his ground but was too weak to resist the impatient glare Liam was burning into his soul. After a brief moment, he rolled his eyes and let out a heavy sigh. "Why ya gotta be such a dillhole, Liam? Do you realize you get rattled faster than a two-tit turtle on a tightrope? It's really not your best quality, little brother, but we can work on that." Annoyed, Liam rubbed a hand over his eyes and groaned as his brother continued, "Either way, Father always said, ‘if you can't help your fellow man out, you might as well become one of the Walkers.’ Truer words were never spoken so eloquently.”  Leo raised his eyes to the heavens thoughtfully before thinking better of it and lowered them toward the ground. "May you rest in peace, Father," he shouted.

As Leo trotted off to speak with Bald Dude to confess his false claim, Bastien helped guide Liam and Riley through the rambunctious swarm of reporters and spectators. Once they reached the limo, Liam helped Riley inside as Maxwell rounded the vehicle and climbed in on the other side. Pausing for a moment before sliding in, the King placed his hands on top of the open door of the limo and turned one last time to check on his friend. He swallowed hard over the guilt of leaving him behind. As His Majesty watched in horror, Drake took a tranquilizer dart to the back of the thigh and Bastien insisted the area was a security threat, shoving him inside. They would send another car to transport Drake and Leo back to the palace. 

Bastien stomped on the gas pedal and sped off, kicking up dirt and smoke as the tires peeled and squealed against the fiery Cordonian asphalt.

When they passed through the airport's security gate, a small motorcade following closely behind, Liam finally lifted his head, his eyes growing wide when he realized what just happened: Bastien's shove had sent Liam flying across the seat to land face-first into a lap — her lap. 

He stayed frozen in place, unable to look anywhere but the two slender, bronzed legs peeking out below the hem of his new wife's dress. 

Riley lifted an eyebrow, a slight grin dangling from her plush pink lips. "Something you wanna say, Your Majesty?"

Everything that had just happened in the 15 minutes since they landed was long forgotten. Drake who? Liam glanced up with a devilish smirk. "Welcome to Cordonia, Pussycat."

@burnsoslow @dcbbw @ao719 @hopefulmoonobject @texaskitten30 @janezillow @merridithsmiscellany-blog @mskaneko @loveellamae @queenjilian @sirbeepsalot @drakexwillow @caroldxnvxrs @jovialyouthmusic @forthebrokenheartedthings @bebepac @kingliam2019 @lovablegranny @cordoniaqueensworld @amandablink

@liamxs-world @choiceskatie @iaminlovewithtrr @hopelessromanticmonie @charlotteg234 @annekebbphotography

@txemrn @ofpixelsandscribbles @alyssalauren @cordonianroyalty @monsoonblooms12 @mom2000aggie @theroyalheirshadowhunter @princessleac1 @kimmiedoo5 @graceful-leah @iam-the-kind-and-thoughtful @thegreentwin @gkittylove99 @cinnamonspongecake @lifeaskim @neotericthemis @pink-diamond13 @walker7519 @natureblooms24 @yourmajesty09

Liam x MC only: Cordonia-gothqueen

Anything with Drake: @tinkie1973

FRI Series Tags:  @sanchita012 ​  @narrytheworld ​  @queenwalton   @gabesmommie1130 @cordonianprincess   @liamandneca @emkay512 @waywardromancefantasygirl @nomadics-stuff @queendianaofcordonia @zaffrenotes @zilch3 @kat-tia801 @drrookie @sfb123

[scribomaniac]

Something Wicca This Way Comes: Ch 13

I KILLIAN I

Pacing up and down the length of the hallway that led from the front door to the kitchen, Killian wondered how much longer Mary Margaret and Emma planned on staying in the basement. It’d already been hours since the older witch had gone down to comfort her daughter. Killian had considered venturing down himself, but in the end decided it wasn’t a good idea. He had no idea what would come out of his mouth if he tried speaking to Emma right now.

Liam, who was trying very hard to look casual, sitting in the middle of the couch with a textbook in his lap, asked, “What’re we gonna do if she says no,” he looked between Killian and Liam, who was looking out the window with a scowl. “To her destiny, I mean.”

“That’s not an option,” Liam said, leaving no room for argument. “It’s her destiny.”

“So what?” Will’s browed furrowed, “Are you saying all the talk about free will is bull then?”

“No,” Liam closed his eyes, making Killian wonder if he was trying not to roll them. “Of course there’s still free will but if Emma doesn’t do this, if she denies her birthright, then—”

“Then what?” Killian stopped his pacing to ask. “Really, what then? So the Source doesn’t die—there’s still us. There are still other witches protecting Innocents.”

Turning to look at his younger brother, Liam said, “It’s not as simple as that. Tink’s said how powerful the Source has become—how unequal the balance between good and evil is. The longer Emma takes to accept her destiny, the more lives will be lost.”

“And what about her life?” Killian’s past premonitions came to mind. One of Emma being stolen as a baby, her sleeping mother right beside her, and the other of her as a small child being tormented in the Underworld. “Doesn’t she get a chance to live it, too?”

Liam waved him away, “Putting her own life above others is just selfish. And why are you defending her?” He narrowed his eyes at Killian, “Or have you forgotten she tried to kill you?”

Swallowing dryly, Killian glared, “Of course I haven’t forgotten, but she’s not just the Firestarter anymore, is she? That makes things a bit more complicated.” A lot more complicated, if Killian were being honest, and in a lot of different ways.

“It wouldn’t be if Emma would just do what she was born to do!”

A light cough interrupted them, making Killian’s head snap over to find Mary Margaret standing in the entrance to the kitchen.

“I wanted to say thank you, before we left,” she told them. There was a smile on her face, but her eyes were as hard as iron and they were trained on the oldest Jones brother, as if daring him to try and stop them. “I’ll be taking my daughter home now.”

Wincing, Liam stepped forward and tried to salvage the situation, “Mary Margaret, I’m sorry, but you know what’s at stake here. You can’t just—”

“Oh, I can,” Mary Margaret nodded quickly. “I lost my daughter just hours after giving birth to her, Liam. I’ve been through more hell in that first few minutes of finding her missing than you have in your entire life so don’t you dare try to lecture me about what’s at stake.” Cutting herself off, Mary Margaret looked down and smoothed out her shirt. “I know this isn’t the outcome you wanted, but it’s not your choice and you need to respect that.” Taking a deep breath, she looked up and said, “Thank you again. For bringing my daughter back to me.”

It was silent for a moment too long where the Jones brothers looked at each other awkwardly, unsure of how to respond to Mary Margaret’s gratitude.

Will was the first to remember his manners, and said, “You’re welcome.” It came out a bit stilted, but Mary Margaret nodded all the same.

“We’ll leave once David gets back.”

The muscle in Liam’s jaw pulsed against his skin. It was obvious that he wanted to continue arguing with her, but thankfully he held his tongue. Mary Margaret was right, it wasn’t his choice, but Killian knew his brother better than anyone. He liked to be in control, to take charge and make decisions. Having no say in this must have been eating him alive.

“If you ever need anything,” Killian found himself saying, “we’re here for you.”

Again, Mary Margaret nodded. Killian wished he could say more, bother to her and to Emma. He couldn’t help feel like they were making a mistake. Not because it was Emma’s destiny or anything like that, but because running away never solved anything. Killian had learned that himself firsthand after leaving the Navy. He wished he could speak to Emma alone, to learn what she was thinking. Her whole life had just been turned upside down. Killian, having gone through several life altering situations himself, felt the compulsion to comfort her. It was only the knowledge that she wouldn’t want him to—wouldn’t want anything to do with him—that kept him from doing so. He understood that what they had was a lie, but he found himself wishing he could stay in her life, just for a little bit longer. As a friend or even just as a fellow witch. But that would never happen.

Emma appeared from the kitchen then, and Killian had to turn away.

“Where will you go?” Will asked.

Before either woman had a chance to respond, three distinct blinks sounded throughout the room.

“Warlocks!” Liam immediately shouted, diving for Will and taking cover behind the couch as several energy balls flew past.

Grabbing Mary Margaret and Emma by their arms, Killian yanked them down to hide behind the dining table. It would have provided at least a few minutes of protection from the Warlocks, until one pulled out a fireball and set it ablaze.

“Bloody hell,” Killian hissed. “Who’d they steal that power from?”

Liam popped up from behind the couch and blasted the Warlock closet to Killian into oblivion.

“Come on,” Killian grabbed for Emma again. She my be the Savior, but without proper training of her new powers she was practically a sitting duck. They ran for the kitchen, Mary Margaret using her powers to close doors and throw furniture at the new Warlock behind them.

Emma stared at her hands, clenching and unclenching her fingers. “Come on, dammit! Light up!”

“Focus, Emma,” Mary Margaret told her, her gaze on the blocked entry way. “Think about what you did last time, okay?”

“It’s not working,” she grounded out.”

Another blink, and then there was a Warlock right in front of her. Moving faster than he ever had before, Killian tackled Emma to the ground. He could hear the crackle of wood behind him, the heat from the newly burning fire.

Turning over, Killian watched as the Warlock threw an energy ball at Mary Margaret, causing her to jump out of the way. Summoning another sizzling ball of electricity in his hand, the Warlock grinned, showing his decaying yellow teeth, “The Source sends his regards, Firestarter.”

Bright white lights formed behind the Warlock, and before the creature could finish them off, Will appeared and shouted, “Athame!”

The ceremonial blade appeared in his hand in a ball of light, and Killian’s younger brother wasted no time by throwing it directly into the back of the Warlock’s head.

The effects were immediate, the Warlock’s body exploding like a star in supernova.

Standing up, Killian side and patted his brother on the back, “Good timing.”

“Sorry I wasn’t faster—the last Warlock gave us some trouble in the other room.” He looked at Emma, who was still on the floor, to Mary Margaret who’d moved to put out the fire on the wall. “You all okay?”

“Aye,” Killian nodded. “Swan?” He moved to help her up, but she brushed him off, standing on her own.

“What I don’t get,” Liam hollered from the other room, grunting as he pushed debris out of the way. Finally making enough room to open the door, he continued, “is how they got those powers. Tink said Warlocks stealing a demon’s powers was like treason.”

Emma scoffed, “Not if the Source is the one who gives them to you.”

“What?” Will asked with a frown. “Why would he do that? Oh shit,” he blinked, looking at his brothers, then back at Emma, “do you think he know you’re the Savior? But how?”

“He doesn’t know I’m the Savior—if he did he’d have come to kill me himself.” Pushing her hair back, she raised a brow at them all. “Do you really not know who we vanquished earlier? Baelfire?”

Killian exchanged glances with his brothers. They looked just as confused as he felt. “Never heard of him, Swan.”

“Yeah, well, he was the Source’s son. And since I was the one who killed him, he’ll have placed a bounty on my head.” Shoulders slumping, she turned towards her mother, “Sure you still want me around?”

“Oh, Emma,” Mary Margaret whispered before walking to her daughter’s side. She didn’t hug her—though Killian had no doubt in his mind that she wanted to—but she did place a hand on Emma’s arm. “I’m with you. No matter what, okay?”

Lips quirking up into a small smile, one that dipped off just as suddenly as it came, Emma nodded, “Okay.”

“This is another reason you shouldn’t leave,” Liam said, hands on his hips. “We can train you, help you fight back.”

Closing his eyes, Killian held back a groan. Liam had a point, but now was really not the time.

Barring her teeth, Emma growled, “Stay out of it.”

“Kinda hard to do that when shit like this happens in my house.”

Nostrils flaring, Emma looked at the four people standing before her. It was like watching a deer in the headlights. Shaking off her mother’s arm, Emma pushed her way out of the room and towards the front door. “I need some air.”

Killian followed her out onto the porch, “Swan, wait.”

“What?” She turned on him, her brows furrowed, “Are you going to try and convince me to stay? That demons will just keep coming and coming until we’re all dead? Because I know that.” Bringing her hands up to massage her temples, Emma closed her eyes and frowned. “I was the Source’s bodyguard, for Pete’s sake. I know what he’s capable of, and now with Bae gone—” she shook her head, “The only way to survive is to run.”

Killian nodded slowly, “You might survive that way, aye, but Emma,” he took a small, cautious step towards her, “you deserve more than that. You deserve to live.”

Cocking a brow, Emma asked dryly, “There’s a difference?”

Killian thought back to when he and Liam were boys, how they’d had to fend for themselves and only relying on each other. They’d fought for every scrap of food they were given and always looked over their shoulders for a possible attack. Even when they’d enlisted into the Navy, when they were assured of brotherhood and security, Killian had never let his guard down, sleeping with one eye open. He’d been right to do so, in the end, but that didn’t mean it was a healthy or sustainable way to live.

Answering with conviction, Killian said, “Yes.”

Emma’s bros rose, but Killian could still see the suspicion lingering behind her eyes. Curling his lips into a coy smile, he tried to elaborate, “Living means joy, Swan. Pleasure. It’s like enjoying a kiss after an incredible date.”

Eyes flickering down to her lips, Killian couldn’t help but remember the last kiss they had shared. Looking back up into Emma’s eyes, he wondered if she ever thought of that moment as well. He thought of the words, to ask her outright, but they wouldn’t manifest on his tongue. Flirting? Easy, no problem for young Killian Jones. But honesty? That was a bit harder at the moment.

“Just imagine,” he said instead, his mouth turning dry, “all that time we’d spent together, with no ulterior motives. Just you and me, Swan, living our lives.” He was entering dangerous territory now, pushing for the truth in the only way he knew how.

Emma’s eyes feel just a fraction, and Killian’s heartbeat quickened as he realized they were focused on his mouth.

“Please,” she whispered, finally returning her gaze to his. Just as cautiously as he had moments ago, she took a step closer, “You couldn’t handle it.”

Killian tried his best to control his breathing, which had turned shallow and too loud in his ears. He was truly playing with fire now, and he didn’t much care of getting burned. “Maybe you’re the one that couldn’t handle it.”

And then Emma kissed him.

Hands immediately falling to her waist, Killian pulled Emma closer. Her mouth was rough and hard on his, but then she exhaled, and Killian could feel her tension bleeding away. She pulled back, just slightly, and Killian chased after. Her fingers brushed alongside his jaw and into his hair, sending electric shocks from the base of his spine down to the tips of his toes. Emma’s tongue snaked out, licking at his lower lip so sweetly. Killian choked on a moan, easily opening his mouth to giver her more access.

And then Emma was pulling off, breaking the kiss just as abruptly as she had started it. Eyes still closed, she took a shaky breath and told him, “That was a one time thing.”

And the next thing Killian knew he was alone on the porch.

 I EMMA I

Emma had no idea why she’d done that. It was stupid and rash and not like her at all. And yet, as she walked through the house, she couldn’t help but relish in the tingling feeling in her lips. A part of her wished she could spend all day kissing that man. She wanted to, she wanted to get to know him too. Really know him. And not to gain information for someone else, not because she’d been ordered to, but because she wanted to. Living and surviving, is that what he’d meant?

But all her wishing would amount to nothing if Killian didn’t feel the same way about her. How could he, after everything she’d done? He’d kissed her, yes, but that meant nothing. Emma knew better than anyone that lust and love were not the same.

Pacing in the solarium, Emma tried to get her head on straight. She couldn’t focus on the kiss right now. Or how her lips still tingle or how her heart fluttered when she thought of how Killian had held her only moments ago. No, she needed to make a decision. She had two options; run for the rest of her life or stay and fight.

Running was the smart move, and if it were only her in danger she wouldn’t be giving it a second thought. But she had Mary Margaret now, and David. Hell, she even had a brother to think about. She had a family. It was new and scary, but it was hers. Mary Margaret said they’d run, and Emma didn’t doubt her, but was that really fair? Emma sighed, wondering if running would only delay the inevitable. The Source was immortal, he’d never stop hunting her down. He’d wait until she was old and gray and then make her wish she’d never been born.

And what a horrible life that would be, she thought. She’d spent her whole life in the Underworld, believing her parents had sold her to demons, thinking she was unloved and would always be unloved. She’d fought because she’d been made to, relied on fear and hate to be her forever companions, but now, now she had something to fight for. A mother, a father, a brother. Killian. The Source had taken so much from her, was she really going to let him take this—all this—away from her?

Hell no.

[salamoonder]

Here I am with a thought and a question or two: 1. The Thought: do you think Trent will make an allusion to Caleb killing his parents in front of TM9? Because if iirc Jester & Cad are the only one’s who don’t know? (Jester because he’s been purposefully keeping it from her and Cad because Cad somehow keeps missing the convo?) like, I have to believe that the SECOND Trent left from meeting TM9 he has been doing recon on all of them, and having people scry spy on them because knowledge is power and Trent for sure always wants to have the upper hand. Idk but I just think I will live from the drama of it all lol 2. The Question: idk if you’be discussed this before, but do you have any thoughts or theories on what schools or magic Astrid & Wulf took their classes in? To me it would make sense for Trent to pick the blumendrei as all having three distinct magical specialties that as a unit would make them....formidable. Basically I’m just so excited and ready for a possible Trent confrontation and blumendrei reunion that I am just :chinhands: about hearing any and all your thoughts about it lol

ooh lots of thoughts ok ok dkfjslkdj

first i have to make a slight correction: yes, cad and jester are the only one who don’t know, but caleb’s actually been fairly guarded about telling anyone. he told beau because he had to to get into the cobalt soul and nott/veth because he felt wrong about telling beau but not her. he only told fjord a few episodes ago so it took him months to build up to that. the only reason yasha knows is because sam veth forgot she didn’t know to begin with and told her accidentally. to say that he’s purposefully keeping it from jester...*wobbly hand* i have no doubt he’s scared to tell her, but he really didn’t want to tell anyone and i’m honestly still working out for myself why, exactly, he told fjord, lol. that was an extreme act of trust. (not that i don’t think he trusts fjord--i’m just thinking, man, what prompted that, was it fjord dying?) anyway. not the point of your ask.

i think trent is certainly relying on caleb not having told the nein about his past so that he can create distrust between them and i also think it’s highly likely that he’ll bring up something that he’s done in his past--possibly his parents--and...hm. i’ve seen a lot of people discussing the moment way back when they were in zadash and he called him bren, and there are a lot of posts to the effect of “wow it’s a good thing caleb has learned to trust these people and confide in them, thus rendering trent’s tactics ineffective in making the nein distrust caleb”. and they’re right--but--but. i think that there’s a lot we don’t know. last ep when he casually mentioned that he’d never seen the tower from the outside because he was always locked inside it--WHAT. MR O BRIEN EXPLAIN, PLEASE. i have to go back and check if that was in character or not or if it was solely to matt because i feel like that’s a thing that other characters would’ve been like “hey what the fuck” but either he said it so fast that it went over their heads or it was an OOC aside to matt. point being. i think there’s a lot he hasn’t told them. and honestly i wouldn’t be surprised if trent does allude to something at dinner that makes the rest of the nein (and us) go “the FUCK”.

as for your question!! i am not super familiar with dnd and truth be told i’m much more solid on my hcs for the clay family’s classes because they feel a bit more intuitive for me, but i have thought a lot about what classes astrid and wulf are. here’s my best guesses.

astrid - realistically? honestly? i think she’s a sorcerer, BUT it would be very liam if she were just, an evil druid. plus i like the idea of her doing recon/planning as a mouse or bird or something.

wulf - warlock, purely because i think it would be a lovely and dramatic mirror to fjord, but i also like the idea of him having to make a pact around the same time that caleb learned find familiar for the first time.

in my headcanon land, which is tied to canon with a few pieces of string and some glue, the dynamic is something like this: caleb is/was their leader. he’s the mastermind, the strategist, the one putting it all together. astrid is there to question and poke holes in every decision he makes, to keep him on his toes. she’s also the one obtaining all their info for him to put together to begin with. wulf is brute force, intimidation, the physical torturer--the bad cop to astrid’s good cop/charming/manipulative cop, essentially. (or at least--in my head that’s how trent has planned it. i have Lots of thoughts about what roles they Actually occupy, as assassins but also as...like...teenagers. as friends.)

thank youuuu i needed a good ramble lol. and i am SUPER excited for next week.

[mayquita]

Damn You For Making Me Love You (15/15) - Epilogue / Don’t Stop Believing

That's it, this is the end. Or maybe not? I must confess that my idea for the epilogue was slightly different, but I was running out of time, so I had no choice but to present this alternative ending. Despite this, I think it works. Also, that will allow me to continue exploring this universe because I intend to write that ending. I don't know when, but I will. I'm determined.

One last note. The scene of the last performance is entirely inspired by a movie. In case you don't get it I'll reveal it at the end. In the meantime, enjoy the reading.

Thank you very much for joining me on this adventure during these last weeks.

Beta-Reader: Thank you so much, @ultraluckycatnd​​​ I couldn’t have asked for a better beta. Thank you for all your effort, your suggestions, your advice and for always being there when I needed you.

Special mention to @saraswans​​ and @onceuponaprincessworld​​​, thank you so much for your perpetual support and for believing in me and in the story. Thank you again to the moderators of the event, @captainswanbigbang​​​ for giving us this opportunity and making this possible. You all are the best :)

Summary: Emma Swan and Killian Jones are close friends and co-workers. And both are in love with each other. The problem? They keep their feelings secret not only to the other but also to the rest of their friends. When Elsa, Emma’s best friend and Liam, Killian’s brother and Emma’s boss find out, they decide to form an alliance and work as a team with a clear goal, to get Emma and Killian to take the next step in their relationship and confess their love for each other.

Rating: M

Word count: ~ 6700 (98k total in 15 chapters)

Ao3 / FFnet

//

Epilogue - Don’t Stop Believing

Liam - January 4, 2020

Liam couldn't stop smiling. It was as if, after their little getaway and his little — big — discoveries in the cabin, a permanent smile had settled on his lips. He had several reasons to do it, really. On the one hand, his brother and Emma had finally decided to give themselves a chance, leaving behind their fears and embracing their feelings. On the other hand, the acceptance of his feelings towards Elsa — and the fact that they were reciprocated — had led him to a state of almost continuous contentment. 

There was no better way to start the year, honestly.

Speaking of Elsa... Liam looked up, directing his gaze towards the entrance of the Kraken. She was late. Since their return last Wednesday, they hadn't seen each other as much as he would have liked; not for lack of interest, but because of their respective responsibilities. But they had agreed to meet at the bar today, something not surprising since Elsa hadn't missed any of Killian's performances in the past few weeks. She wasn't going to miss it today either, of course, since it would be the first time Killian and Emma not only seemed to be a couple on stage, but were a couple in real life.

"She will be here soon." Emma's unexpected voice startled him while she came to stand beside him. "She texted us a couple of minutes ago. She was already on her way."

Liam turned his head to look at Emma, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Elsa hadn't sent him any text at all. He had checked his phone just a minute before. It was the use of the word us that finally gave him the clue to identify what Emma meant.

Elsa had sent a text to the group chat, where Killian, Emma, Kristoff, and Anna were also included. And Liam had silenced the damn chat the day before. "I didn't notice," he muttered, looking away, suddenly interested in ordering the glasses in the compartment under the counter.

"You haven't read it." It wasn't a question, but rather an affirmation. Emma's voice denoted no reproach, but curiosity. Fortunately, a customer approached the bar to order a drink so, after giving Liam one last skeptical glance, Emma moved away from him so he could serve the drinks.

Liam had his reasons for silencing the chat. 

Emma and Killian were the ones to blame, in fact. Accepting their feelings and acting on them hadn't changed their behavior. Liam felt grateful for it, truly, but since last Wednesday, Emma had practically settled in their apartment, which meant that he had become a witness to their constant public displays of affection everywhere. They had always been present between them after all, but now they had acquired a level far from innocent or casual.

On top of that, their banter and almost perpetual bickering were still intact. It was frankly exhausting, especially when their teasing was also transferred to the texts they exchanged in the group chat. When he read an argument between them about something as banal as what they would have for lunch the next day, he had enough. 

Now he just had to deal with them in person. Constantly.

For the next few minutes, he became distracted by serving and chatting with customers, his gaze instinctively heading from time to time towards the entrance. Elsa still didn't appear, something that was beginning to cause some concern in him. Not because of the fact that something had happened to her, but rather because the ghost of insecurity threatened to appear. What if she had thought better? What if…

"Stop worrying, she's coming." Again Emma's voice startled him. What's wrong with me today? He was an almost forty-year-old adult, not a bloody teenager with his first crush, for God's sake. Emma must have noticed his unease, because she immediately added, "Can you accompany me to the back room? I need to grab something."

It was an obvious excuse, he could tell. His lips pressed together, drawing a grateful smile, while he nodded. After telling Robin to cover him for a few minutes, he walked with Emma to the back room, to —he supposed —have a little chat with some privacy in a much quieter place.

Emma started talking the moment the door closed behind them. "You know, these past few days have been a little crazy. We've barely had time to talk, and..." She paused for a moment, offering him a smile full of affection. "I wanted to tell you that I can't be happier for you and Elsa. You more than anyone deserve to be happy and I'm so glad you found each other."

A wave of affection for Emma washed over him, while a warm sensation ran through his veins up to his heart. "We're still in the beginning, lass, trying to figure out our relationship. But I'm happy, very happy."

"Good," she said before melting into a tight hug with him to which Liam responded with pleasure. The affection he had for Emma went beyond words. He loved her in the most fraternal form of the word, as if she were his little sister. No matter what happened between Emma and Killian in the future, she would always occupy a special place in his heart.

"I'm also very happy for you two, Emma," he muttered against her hair. "My brother is so damn lucky to have found someone like you. I couldn't have thought of someone more suitable for him. You are perfect for each other." In response, Emma tightened her hug, burying her face in his chest. "You are better together."

"I wanted to... thank you, for acting behind our backs, for pushing us together," Emma confessed with a trembling voice after separating from him a little. Liam noticed her watery eyes and a lonely tear sliding down her cheek. He brushed her skin delicately, wiping away the tear and earning an adorable smile on her part. "These last weeks have been amazing; not only because I've been able to spend more time with Killian, which has led me to accept my feelings definitively, but because I’ve spent so much time with both of you guys. I love to share experiences with you."

"Good, although I must say that your fights are a bit exhausting, honestly." Emma made a sound, half laughing half snorting, causing him to grin. "But I love you both anyway. Besides, I should be used to it, right?"

"I love you too. And yes, you better get used to it, because I don't think we're going to act differently any time soon. It's one of the things I like the best about your brother, how he challenges me and how he fights back."

"I suspect that Killian thinks the same about you."

 "He better."

They broke up laughing in unison. It was a liberating laugh, which served to lighten the mood after the previous moment full of emotions. Once the laughs subsided, she gave him one last smile of affection and turned in the direction of the door. But she had barely walked a couple of steps when she approached him again.

"I'll tell you a secret," Emma whispered in his ear. "You are my second favorite person," she confessed and then placed a soft kiss on his cheek before separating again. "And you better hurry out, because I'm sure your current favorite person is already waiting for you." After winking at him, she finally left the room, leaving him with a feeling of bliss that he hoped would last for a long time. Emma was someone so special to him that he hoped to have her in his life forever. He suspected that wouldn't be a problem — if it depended on his brother.

Indeed, Elsa was already waiting, sitting on her usual stool, the one that seemed to have her name written on it. The feeling of contentment increased the moment his eyes fell on her beautiful face, the butterflies of his stomach flapping furiously while all his previous doubts dissipated as he contemplated the adorable smile she gave him when their eyes met.

He hurried to her and, without thinking, pressed his lips to hers in a brief kiss, one with the ability to shake him inside. He had already started to get used to that delicious sensation, something he hoped wouldn't fade with time since he had no intention of stopping kissing that woman.

"I can't believe it!" Ruby's unexpected voice beside him interrupted them momentarily. "What the hell happened in that cabin now that nobody seems to stop kissing?"

Although Ruby's voice denoted surprise and a bit of annoyance, her funny expression said something different. "You better get used to it, Rubes," he simply added, his lips drawing a wide grin.

Ruby rolled her eyes, but then offered a wolfish smile. "You should definitely change the name of the bar and use The Ship of Love instead, or something like that."

"You can always suggest it to Emma. After all, she is the advertising expert."

"I think I'll pass," Ruby replied with a dismissive wave of her hand. She wrinkled her nose and then her lips curled into a wicked grin. "She's very busy lately, eating your brother's face." Liam heard Elsa snorting while he himself couldn't stop a chuckle from bubbling in his throat. Ruby was right. "Anyway, I'm happy for you guys. Really." After offering them one last smile she left to attend a customer.

Once alone, he returned his attention to Elsa. "Hi," he greeted her, pressing a peck on her lips. "I missed you."

"Sorry I was late. I had a last-minute meeting. We're organizing a winter festival with the girls," she explained, offering him an apologetic smile.

His heart swelled with pride towards her. Her ice skating talent was undeniable, as was her ability to transmit her knowledge. The fact that she worked mostly with children only increased his admiration for her. "No need for apologies, love," he assured her, as he grabbed two glasses and placed them on the counter. "The usual, I take it?"

"I'm not sure. I'm still a VIP client?"

Before answering, he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the counter and invading her personal space. "You can be sure, lass. You currently occupy the top. At least on my list." Liam secretly admired how her cheeks colored with a soft pink shade as she averted her gaze whenever he offered her some compliment. He had no intention of stopping any time soon, not only hoping to keep that reaction in her, but because the compliments seemed to flow naturally. He had definitely fallen hard for that incredible woman.

"Very much appreciated. That's one of the reasons why The Kraken has become my favorite bar, the customer treatment. Well, and also that the owner, or should I say the Captain, is quite handsome and charming."

This time it was his turn to blush while his heart made a small somersault. Gods ! It was as if he had traveled back in time and had become a teenager again. He resisted the urge to kiss her again — since he was the boss and was currently in his workplace, he should set an example for his employees — instead opting to offer her a smile of appreciation accompanied by a slight bow of his head. He then poured the liquid into the two glasses, offering one of them to her and holding the other in his raised hand.

"I want to make a toast because right now I feel like the luckiest man in the world. With you."

The gaze she gave him was so intense that it had the ability to melt the most frozen heart. "I think we have someone to blame about it, right?" Elsa suggested before putting the glass to her lips and then ingested the liquid in a gesture that was too distracting. After leaving the empty glass on the counter she looked at her watch and then looked up, her gaze wandering around as if she were looking for something. "Where are the two lovebirds, by the way?"

Liam also looked around, surprised not to see either of them, considering that Killian's performance was about to begin. He exchanged a look with Elsa as he shrugged and was going to offer to go look for them when he noticed that Elsa's expression changed as she directed her gaze to a spot above his shoulder.

He turned his head following the direction of her gaze, meeting Killian and Emma who looked like they had just left his office, since Killian was already carrying the guitar. They obviously had performed some other activity inside the room, though. At least if their flushed cheeks, Killian's disheveled hair and the flustered expression on both faces were an indication. Liam let out a huff while shaking his head. Those two were impossible.

"I guess they're making up for the lost time," Elsa offered through a soft smile as if reading his mind.

"So it seems. But I'm afraid they'll have to be apart at least for a while. I'll be right back. I'm gonna introduce Killian," he said with a wink before going to look for the two idiots in love.

//

The concert was proving to be a total success. Whatever happened in his office, it hadn't affected Killian at all. On the contrary, he seemed more inspired than ever, his presence on the stage more prominent, his smile more charming, his voice more powerful and tuned. There was something that hadn't changed, though. His attention was focused on a single person, someone who kept taking pictures of him as if he were the only person around her.

When Killian's solo performance was about to end, Liam came out from behind the bar, approaching Elsa and offering his hand. They walked through the crowd until they found Emma, who briefly hugged her friend before giving her the camera. The three of them turned their attention back to the stage, waiting for Emma's introduction by Killian.

"Thank you very much to everyone. You are the best audience one can dream of!" Killian shouted as he made a gesture of applause addressed to the public, which only increased the cheers towards him. "And now if you’ll allow me, the stellar moment of the night is about to start; the moment when someone very special to me will accompany me on stage." Killian then looked at Emma, the expression of pure devotion to her written all over his face. "I ask you to give the best applause you can to welcome my particular angel, the incredibly talented and beautiful Emma Swan!"

Liam watched as Killian approached the side of the stage where Emma would appear, holding out his hand to her when she arrived. They walked together to the center of the stage, both sporting the same expression of happiness. When they were in position, Emma nodded almost imperceptibly to his brother and then began to sing, without looking away from Killian.

Just a small town girl Livin' in a lonely world She took the midnight train goin' anywhere

Then it was Killian's turn. Liam would never have anticipated what happened next. After singing his first verse, Killian played the first chords with his guitar and then they merged into a passionate, brief, kiss right there in the middle of the stage, causing the entire audience to roar around them. These two know how to rile up the public, Liam thought as his lips tugged at a huge smile.

From there the magic continued on stage.

Liam stood behind Elsa, circling her shoulders with his arms while she rested her back on his chest, both watching in awe the huge talent both Killian and Emma had singing together. Liam couldn't be more proud of himself for being the one with the brilliant idea of pushing Emma that first time to accompany Killian on stage.

Don't stop believin' Hold on to the feelin'

That verse couldn't be more appropriate, Liam thought as he tightened his embrace on Elsa. He would never stop believing that everything was possible. Their current situation was the best example, with his brother and Emma creating magic on stage and overflowing with happiness and love. With a vibrant Elsa in his arms, it offered him the sensation of holding his (their) own future. He would definitely never stop believing in them and the endless possibilities they had together.

The End - Fin

//

About the inspiration for the scene of the last performance, the movie is Rock Of Ages, and here's the video (spoilers! it's also the last scene in the movie, just in case):

Thank you so, so much.

These last few months have been quite complicated for me, so I have barely had time or energy to write, but I haven't given up, so I hope to be able to continue creating. Until then, it has been a pleasure. Stay safe, everyone.