#its been so long has always belonged to cassidy

[dovewingkinnie]

she had a family that loved her

[matsbarzal]

Time’s a Ticking || Matthew Tkachuk

Notes: anyways I decided to do matty and I found this long list of soulmate AU prompts so I know what I’m doing tonight yikes. so here’s a lil bit of a nervous/anxious matty even tho he refuses to admit it. hope you enjoy!!! let me know how you like it <3 

Summary: everyone is born with a dwindling time on their wrist. the moment the time reaches zero is when a person meets their other half, the person who makes them whole; their soulmate. 

Word Count: 3k+

10,584. 7 days, 8 hours and 24 minutes. 7 days until he’d meet his other half, the person that’s meant to complete his soul, be his better half, or whatever a soulmate is meant to be. Matthew wasn’t crazy about the idea of soulmates, sure, he was surrounded by people who were madly in love and happy and complete; but he was also surrounded by those people... the one’s whose time stopped, girls and guys who had a permanent marking of time on their wrist that would never move again.

He wouldn’t say he was a pessimistic person, but he had seen so many friends and family fall into a spiral after their soulmate clock stopped ticking, watched as their other half broke them without even meeting them. He wanted to be excited and optimistic but Matthew couldn’t bring himself to feel the same delight that his friends did on his behalf. Anything could happen in this 7 days, 8 hours... and 22 minutes now.

6160 minutes

You could feel the bump of the plane as it touched the ground. This was the one part of flying you hated the most, the anxiety and the bumping as the plane made its way down the runway towards its destination. You knew anything bad was unlikely to happen, but your nerves were on edge. All you could think about was the time on your wrist, the time that kept on ticking. It hadn’t stopped in your entire 21 years of life, and from the looks of it, you were approximately four days away from that happening.

Sighing, you listened to the claps from around you as everyone congratulated the pilots for landing the plane safely. Around you, people stood up and began collecting their belongings, grabbing their bags from the overhead compartments as the chatter continued in the cabin.

You politely smiled at the man beside you as he passed you down your bag, a quick “Thank you” leaving your lips as he gestured for you to walk in front of him towards the exit. 

Originally, you hadn’t had any intention of leaving Alberta for the holiday break, but your parents had practically begged you to come home for the holiday’s, citing the fact you had remained in Lake Louise for the last year and that they had only seen you once since you made the choice to unravel everything you knew by packing a few bags and moving halfway across the country to Alberta to work at some fancy ski resort in the mountains. 

It was originally only meant to be a few months worth of work, waitressing in Lake Louise at a 5-star resort that is, and then time kept going by, and the more and more you fell in love with not only the scenery, but the people. Everyone was happy there, tourists were always excited and polite, everyone just wanted the chance to see the Lake, skate on the Lake, whatever it was. No one was ever unhappy here, and you loved that. 

You were pulled out of your thoughts as the line in front of you continued to move quickly, people eager to get out of the cabin and get back into the fresh air that flowed outside. You could barely contain your giddiness as you stepped off the plane. You could barely believe how much you missed the province, missed your friends, coworkers, you even missed the tourists. Who would’ve thought?

After about 20 minutes of watching the carousal spin and spin and spin, you finally eyed your bright red, Flames red, as a lot of people reminded you, suitcase. Grabbing it, you hauled the bag off of the carousal and onto the ground. You were eager to get to your car, which you had already paid a good 500 dollars worth of parking for, and eager to get the move on the three hour drive across Highway 1 to Lake Louise. 

After four and a half hours of travelling, you knew this three hour drive was going to exhaust you. And with the temperature out in Alberta right now? All you wanted was your bed and a cup of piping warm hot chocolate to end the day.

4590 minutes

“Man, your face is already awful to look at. You really trying to ruin it even more right before you meet your soulmate?”

Before Noah could even think, a wad of tape hit the side of his head while exclamations went up around the room about the choice of target. “Whoops, guess my tape slipped... out of my hand.”

Matthew shrugged his shoulders, an innocent grin on his face as he stood up to grab the tape from beside Noah Hanifin’s locker. 

“No, but seriously, why are you getting into fights with three days left on your wrist? Don’t go and get yourself killed or something, they’d be devastated if they’ve waited this long for your dumb-ass just to have 4000 minutes tattooed on her wrist for the rest of her life.”

Shrugging his shoulders, Matthew ignored his teammates comments, choosing instead to run his finger across the always-changing number on his wrist. 

“It’s not like it matters anyways.” His words were barely above a mumble, but it was enough to spark the attention of his captain, who was quick to tell him to meet him in the trainer’s office after he was done showering and getting the blood that was currently dripping down his face, cleaned.

Obliging on his captain’s orders, he found Gio in the office, a tight smile the only warning that he was about to get ripped apart by the veteran. Gio was one of the lucky ones, he had barely been 16 when his clock finally hit the big 0. It made him an advocate for all the soulmate bullshit, constantly encouraging his teammates to wait it out, be patient, their time would come. 

“Chucky, buddy, we gotta have a chat.”

Quirking his eyebrows at the older man, Matthew nodded, “Well Gio, I kinda figured that one out buddy, unless you pulled me in here to look at my oh so pretty face.” 

“I’m serious. You need to stop with this constant bashing of soulmates and times and shit. I know you don’t like it and you hate the concept of soulmates and whatever, but you’re doing nothing but worrying the younger guys. These kids are constantly terrified their minutes are just going to stop and be etched into their skin.”

Subconsciously running his fingers across the number on his wrist again, 4530 minutes. Wonder what that is in exact time. Shrugging his shoulders, he was quick to apologize to his captain. “Sorry, G. Not trying to scare the kids, just getting a little... I don’t know? Worried? It’s getting too close, I don’t want to get like...  it’s not important, never mind. I’ll stop talking about times in the locker room. Sorry.”

Quickly tightening the tie that was now wrapped around his neck, Matthew raced out of the office before Gio could say something else to him. He eagerly grabbed his phone, wallet, keys and suit jacket before quickly making his way towards the parking garage, the only thing on his mind was of course, you.

2120 minutes

One whole day and just a few hours. You could barely breath as you ran your thumb over the little black number on your wrist. You knew it was inevitable that you’d be meeting your soulmate while working, the moment you looked at the work schedule when you arrived back from home, you knew you’d be stuck working during the time in which you were meant to meet you soulmate. You were giddy, sure. But what if they didn’t like you? What if whoever it was, was snooty, and rude, and didn’t like you for who you were?

“Y/N, you gotta stop thinking about it, babe. You’re gonna get your head stuck in a whirlwind of thoughts. Think about other things! Like... the Calgary Flames.”

Eyeing the blonde beside you, “Tell me Cassidy, why in the world, would I think about the Calgary Flames, instead of thinking about my soulmate?”

Your coworker shrugged her shoulders and gestured to the board behind your head. You had all been notified a day prior that the Calgary Flames had reserved a whole floor of the Chateau for the weekend. With your restaurant being directly in view of the Lake and the Mountains, you were expected to be the main dining spot for the team over their course of the weekend.

“Believe me, Cass, the last thing I want to think about is a bunch of hockey boys who are going to make me miserable the weekend where I’m supposed to be... not miserable.”

She winked at you, a teasing glint in her eyes, “Maybe one of those awful hockey boys has the same number on your wrist. Maybe Noah Hanifin’s your soulmate. God, I’d be so jealous, could you imagine being destined for that beautiful exhibit of a man? God, I’d climb him like a tree.”

Laughing, you wacked her with the towel in your hand as she continued to egg you on, gloating about how beautiful of a specimen Noah Hanifin was, and how she’d do just anything to crawl into bed with that man. Cassidy was always like this, bubbly, happy, positive. Her number had stopped moving 12 years ago, or so she says. She hadn’t been paying attention the day it stopped, the number etching itself into her skin permanently, to never move again. She was never negative about it, always saying that she hoped just the thought of her brought peace to her soulmate in their last moments. 

“Okay okay, enough about the Flames. I doubt it’s even going to end up being any of them, hockey boys and I do not get along. Especially the one’s that are just constantly bothering people, and that’s the entire Flames roster, so... let’s get back to work.”

440 minutes

One thing Matthew was sure of was the fact that he loved everything about the drive to Lake Louise. He wasn’t notorious for being a huge fan of the scenery around him, but something about the drive across Highway 1, the trees, the snow covered mountains, they all just faded together and created this picture in his head. It was hard to describe, there wasn’t anything specific to the picture, it was just joyful, it was happy, it was calm. Jesus, maybe he was just fucking crazy. 

A lot of people always said you feel more calm in the hours leading up to the first time you meet your soulmate. But he sure as hell didn’t feel calm. He was on edge, the scenery around him, albeit, it was beautiful, it was not calming him down. His leg was shaking, his foot tapping the ground beneath him on the bus. He could see Johnny giving him a look every time his shaking leg touched his teammates. He knew the entire team was frustrated with him. Two games straight, two 10 minute fighting majors. 

He was being a pest, constantly egging people on, trying to ignite arguments or fights or just some form of stimuli to get his mind off of the only thing it could stray to. You. He didn’t want to think about whoever the hell you were, he didn’t want to get his hopes up that maybe his clock would actually hit 0, maybe he’d actually meet his better half. Or maybe he'd fall through a crack in Lake Louise and never have to worry about it again... hopefully. 

“If you touch my leg... one more fucking time, I am going to sock you in the fucking face Chucky.”

Immediately pressing his heel into the ground, Matthew mumbled out a quick ‘sorry’ to the teammate beside him as he watched the trees continue to go by outside the bus window. The time was still changing on his wrist, every minute counting down as the minutes passed outside. There was barely any cell service on the drive up, so the only thing that could truly distract him at this rate, was you, and he hated that.

“Soooo... you excited Chucky? It’s gotta be the big day, no?”

If choking a teammate was legal, Matthew would already be wringing Noah Hanifin’s neck. 

“Yeah, delighted.”

“C’mon grumpy pants, you’re literally like what? 6 hours away from meeting the person who’s supposed to complete your soul... and you’re in a foul mood. Did Doughty crawl up your ass and die last night or?”

Grinding his teeth, Matthew tried to bite his tongue, refusing to lash out at his teammate, even though he so desperately wanted to. He wasn’t going to be the cause for a toxic locker room, especially over something as stupid as soulmates. 

It was obvious that something was going on, everyone on the team knew the time on his wrist equalled out to less than a day. Everyone could see how on edge he was slowly getting as the time dwindled down, but no one could figure out why he was getting more and more frustrated, why the excitement wasn’t shining through as the time continued.

“Why the hell aren’t you excited man? This person’s supposed to be the love of your life, and you seem like you couldn’t give two fucks if you meet them or not?”

It was too late, Matthew was exploding before he could even comprehend what he was saying. “It doesn’t fucking matter man, okay? I don’t give a shit about this soulmate bullshit. Everyone’s soulmate is gone one day anyways, what the hell does it matter if you meet them now? I’m gonna be aching at some point because they’re gone and I’m alone. Woohoo, I get to meet them today, woo-fucking-hoo. I could literally not care less, so stop bugging me.”

27 minutes.

It was all around, highly likely, that your soulmate had some form of connection with the Calgary Flames. Their reservation was scheduled for 23 minutes from now... and your wrist had that small number 27 etched on it as it continued to count down. 

“Wow... maybe your soulmate really is Noah Hanifin... I’m sorry for saying I’d climb him like a tree.”

A loud laugh left your throat as you watched a guilty smile form on your co-workers face. “Cass, I highly doubt it’s Noah Hanifin. It’s probably just a coincidence that their reservation time coincides with my meeting my soulmate time.” Cassidy gave you a knowing look as she walked away, a small smile on her face.

You were anxious, you couldn’t deny it. Every second that counted down, you were nervous, what if you weren’t good enough for them? What if they were embarrassed it was you? What if... oh god... what if they hated soulmates? What if they were one of those people who was willing to cut the tie, ignore the call, ignore the connection?

You refused to think about that, instead putting yourself to work, clearing the tables and plates of the previous occupants, you waved off the clearing crew, instead choosing to do it yourself. Anything to get your mind off of it. 

The Flames weren't the only occupants of the Chateau tonight, only taking up about half, you were able to still seat other tourists who were interested in the view tonight. 

That’s how you found yourself, 25 minutes later, your hand on your hip as you interacted with the group of rowdy guys in front of you. They were from Edmonton, and they were absolutely hammered. They were as nice as you could expect them to be, continuously flirting your ears off, as they tried to impress you with their... what was it? Accounting job? You couldn’t remember for the life of you, your mind solely stuck on the small number 1 now etched on your wrist. 

You were roused out of your thoughts at the feeling of a hand touching your waist. “C’mon sweetheart, you’re not even paying attention to us here. Take a shot with us, baby!”

You politely removed the offending wrist, a tight smile now etched on your face. “First, I would ask that you please don’t touch me. Second, I was most definitely listening. You boys want another round of beers, and 6 tequila shots. Unfortunately, I don’t believe the shots are the best idea, nor do I think the beer is, but I’ll definitely get you a glass of water.”

Spinning on your heel, you went to walk away but were stopped by the feeling of a hand tightly gripping your wrist, a small squeak falling from your lips.

“We don’t want water.”

“Please get your hand off of me.”

“Get us what I asked for then, bitch.” 

You were about to retort, a vicious snarl on your lips, but your words were caught in your throat as you watched a fist connect to the cheek of the man in front of you, a gasp leaving your throat.

2 minutes

This had to be a joke. He was apparently two minutes away from meeting his soulmate, and here he was, in an orderly fashioned line as him and his teammates made their way into the restaurant. He could barely breath, his pants felt too tight on his hips, he could feel the sweat seeping through his shirt. Thank god he made the choice to wear black. 

It felt like everyone’s eyes were on his, everyone was wearily watching the number on his wrist go down, as the obvious anxieties began to cloud his every thought, action, move... everything.

He tried to take his mind off of it, observing the restaurant as the team slowly made their way to their designated tables. There were a few other patrons, most of them caught up in their own world. One specific table caught his eye, they were a group of rowdy guys, maybe a few years older than him. 

Quite frankly, they looked like all around assholes. Looked like the guys you’d see from Wolf of Wall Street, and from the looks of it, they were really starting to irritate their waitress. Although, all he could see was your back, your posture was unbelievably straight, your hand on your hip as you inventively listened to the guys in front of you.

Matthew continued to watch you, something inside of him telling him that he just couldn’t look away. He had to keep looking. He watched as you turned your body, ready to walk to wherever your destination in mind was, but he instantly zeroed in on the hand that was now tightly wrapped around your wrist, a violent look on the man’s face.

He wasn’t moving on his own accord now, his feet were basically moving by themselves as they raced towards you.

“Get us what I asked for then, bitch.”

His fist was connecting with the other man’s face before he could even think. He heard the gasp from beside him, he watched the number on his wrist hit 0 the exact moment he looked at you, a look of shock on everyone’s faces.

“Chucky!”

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“I’m going to call the police you fucking curly-headed fuck.”

He could barely focus on the voices around him. You were here. You were literally right in front of him. Both of your numbers were at 0, he could see it on your wrist. He was literally staring in the eyes of his soulmate.

“Oh my god, you punched one of our guests.” Your voice was like bells to his ear, soft, delicate, everything he wasn’t... but god, you were perfect.

“I’m Matthew, and yes... I uh... I think I did punch one of your guests. I also think you’re my soulmate. Does it count as self-defence... if I punched him in my soulmate’s defence?” 

You laughed, trying to cover it up with your mouth as you watched your manager’s rush towards the now bleeding asshole at the table behind you. 

“I think I like you already, Matthew.”

[snarkwriteswrasslin]

2020 - archived

[18+ advised ] This is going to be long af. I’m going to do my best to put everything - all my writing on this blog, in one goddamn place, but I make no promises, so forgive me in advance. Below the cut is everything I’ve written and posted, for every single wrestler I’ve written for so far.  If its’ not linked, then I haven’t posted it yet or it’s a placeholder. If it’s bolded/has an m out beside it, it is most definitely mature and only meant for a mature (18+) audience. If there’s an asterisk (*) out beside the title, it belongs to or is part of something else that I have on the blog.

If you want to be on the taglist for my writing, you can find that [here]. If you want to know what I write / how often I write and stuff like that, my faq/about post is [here]

adam hangman page | take you home | spring | mature.

adam hangman page | baby fever | winter| mature.

adam hangman page | darlin | summer | mature. 

baron corbin | right now | winter | mature.

darby allin | the sound of silence | spring | mature.

drew mcintyre | somebody watching me | spring | mature.

drew mcintyre | alpha | winter | mature.

ethan carter iii | worship you | winter | mature.

jon moxley | duality| summer | mature.

jon moxley | allnighter | summer | mature.

jungle boy | touch myself | winter | mature.

jungle boy | unnamed as of yet | summer | mature.

kevin owens | morning | summer | mature.

kyle o’reilly | backseats and phone calls | spring | mature.

kyle o’reilly | the quiet game | winter | mature.

mjf | dessert first | winter | mature.

mjf | sweet | summer | mature.

mjf | morningafter | summer | mature.

roman reigns | alpha | winter | mature.

sammy guevara | dirty dancer | winter | suggestive.

sammy guevara | cheater | summer | mature.

trent beretta | blackout | summer | mature.

trent beretta | sneaky | fall | mature.

adam hangman page | whatcha gonna do by hinder | angst / comfort.

adam hangman page | push my buttons [ suggestive] | 

adam hangman page | i’m erasing myself from the narrative | i’m putting myself back into the narrative | may you always be satisfied | the story of tonight. 

adam hangman page | second one to know |  dancing around an open fire | | 

adam hangman page | dreaming of a wedding dress | | 

adam hangman page | the love boat || | 

adam hangman page | sweet cherry pie || that dress is begging to come off [ virgin oc; mature af } 

adam hangman page | | honey on my table suggestive | motion of the ocean - cruise romance au, mature | 

adam hangman page | alone among the couples | 

adam hangman page | im yours - alphaverse au | won’t you stay with me alphaverse au |  bathtub mermaid - alphaverse au/suggestive | 

adam hangman page | she’s a nutcracker | 

adam hangman page | virginia on my mind, angst | fuck you and the horse you rode in on [ an au of what ifs second chapter, holy shit mature]  | | punishment pretty please, goes with wildside/whatifs holy shit mature | pour some sugar on me, mature | | 

baron corbin | everything you can do i can do better | 

baron corbin | follow me | prince not so charming | 

baron corbin | love on the rocks | 

curtis axel | | | boop [  mature ] | be kind rewind [ roommates au, mature ]| 

curtis axel | discount chocolate day | | 

drew gulak thoughts of yesterdays | august rush | lost in your eyes [ suggestive.]

drew gulak | he loves me, he loves you not [ miiild suggestive, alphaverse] | | leave her wild [ suggestive alphaverse..kinda] | 

drew gulak |once upon a dream [ soulmate au] |  starcrossed lovers and other strangers [ suggestive ] |

drew gulak | valentines day episode | 

drew mcintyre | marionette | | just between me and you | 

drew mcintyre | burnt homemade chocolates [ conclusion to my alphaverse short fic, suggestive and fluffy ] | 

edge x ofc x christian | seeds of unrest | 

elias samson | couples costume contest | 

elias samson | waiting on your friends to leave 

ethan carter III | winners remorse | rewrite history [ a retelling of w.r] | |

finn balor | after an endless dream | 

jay white | graveyard smash | punch drunk princess [ vampire au; mature] | it should’ve been you [human version of vampire au]

jeff hardy  | it all started with glow paint [ suggestive; bordering mature ] | 

jeff hardy | do i look lonely |  my lips are up here [suggestive]

jon moxley | hurt me so good | if I loved you less I could talk about it more | can’t find a better man [mature].

jon moxley | bloody valentine | 

jon moxley | your days are numbered | spared but not forgiven | nature adores a virgin [mature]

jon moxley | all the guys want cheerleaders | ps i lo- | no more almosts | warm desert wind | | dark as night [ roommates au / suggestive ] | 

jon moxley | siren song [ soulmate/pirate and siren au | 

jungle boy | sweet boy | 

kyle o’reilly | can I see through you | | death of a bachelor | 

mjf | did you just grab yourself on tv | 

mjf | candy hearts taste like chalk | 

pete dunne | you jump i jump jack | | you can’t win | I’m melting

pete dunne |bitter bite alphaverse au |  aftershocks suggestive |

roderick strong |  trying not to smile | 

roderick strong | kisses like cruelty [suggestive,borderline mature] | | | 

roderick strong | walking the line | put ‘em up | 

roman reigns | patchwork heart | 

roman reigns | slow roasted | 

roman reigns | anorgasmia | 

sami zayn | farmers market | moonbeams on pumpkins

sami zayn | heart and soul |

sami zayn | reflecting light | 

zack ryder | rough rider 

12 Days Of Christmas Masterlist 2020

My entries for the 12 Days of Christmas on both my writing blogs can be found on this post right here.  [ merry christmas clicky ]

Halloween

Thanksgiving

Christmas

New Years

Valentines Day

Other Holidays / Special Occasions

ORIGINAL CHARACTERS I HAVE / USE TO WRITE

original character, Adeline x | 

original character, Kasey x | 

original character, Violet x | 

WRESTLERS ONLY DOWN BELOW

adam hangman page x [m] | x - soft hangman | x -hangman does halloween | x hangman on your first date [ fluffy,suggestive]|  x [soft] | adopting a dog | enemies to lovers | roommates to lovers | softly mature | more halloween hangman | 

buddy murphy x [ mature, sex life] | 

cash wheeler x [ suggestive ] | 

chuck taylor x [soft]| x more soft | 

damien priest x [ mature ] | 

darby allin x[soft] | x [mature] | 

drew gulak x | 

drew mcintyre x [ mature ] | 

eddie kingston x | x | x mature | enemies to lovers | 

elite x celebrating Halloween with the Elite | 

ethan carter iii x [m] | 

finn balor x [ m] | x [m] | 

heath slater x | 

jeff hardy x[m] | sick female!SO [pms mentioned briefly] | 

jon moxley x [m] | x [m] | 

jungle boy x[food/cooking] | x [ actual! jungle boy in love ] | fall softness | 

kenny omega x [ suggestive ] | x | x [halloween] | 

kevin owens x [m] | 

kyle o’reilly x [ mature - werewolf!kyle ] | 

luchasaurus x[mature+soft] | 

marko stunt  x soft and mature | x mature | x soft | x daddy kink of sorts |

matt jackson x [m] | x more m | enemiest to lovers -suggestive | 

nick jackson x [suggestive] | losing a basketball game to you | x mature/soft mix | 

orange cassidy x [lowkey m] | 

Pac x [suggestive fluff] | 

pentagon jr x mature | 

pete dunne x [ mature ] | 

prince devitt x mature | 

ecw era raven x [soft ] | x [m] | x[halloween] | 

roderick strong x [ adopting a kid with ] | 

roman reigns x!HeelRoman, slight nsfw | 

sami callihan x [ music preferences ] | 

trent beretta x [lowkey m] | x [ soft ] | x [ more soft ] | 

tyler breeze x [ enemies to lovers, polyamory hinted at | 

undertaker x [ gender neutral baker / biker taker SO] | 

wardlow x [ m ] | x [m] | x [ soft] | x[ halloween] | x mature | x Christmas with Wardlow | 

AEW;

- adam hangman page [ f s v ] | o i d | c m x | k l | 

- cash wheeler [ i l s ] | [ m o r ] | c s u | 

- chuck taylor [ j m w ] | [ a d l ] | [ c  v ] | i k w | n u x | 

- darby allin [  k o t ] 

- jack evans [ b t h ] | 

- jon moxley [ a k r ] | 

- jungle boy [ d m o ] | 

- matt jackson [ k q w ] |  [ b d e ] | f i o | u y | c j v | 

- mjf [ s k v ] | b m u | 

- nick jackson [ a b g ] | [ m o ] | c i o | 

- orange cassidy [ f h x ] | [ o ] | [ i p v ] | [ k w ]

- pac [ d m x ] | [ i p u ] | [ f o s ] | 

- santana [ a o q ] | 

- trent beretta [ j m u ] | 

- wardlow [ d j w ] | [ k u ] | [ b m r ] | [ a o v ] | c i p | 

WWE NXT;

- chad gable [ b o u ] | 

- damien priest [ d i v ] | 

- drew mcintyre [ b e d ] | i p w | 

- jinder mahal [ g i w ] | 

- roman reigns [ c u m ] | 

- timothy thatcher [ c j y ] | f k | d | 

- tyler breeze [ l x y ] | d j u | 

TNA;

- heath miller [ b e d ] | 

NJPW;

- jay white [ d f k ] | k u m | b j w | 

AEW;

WWE / NXT;

AEW;

WWE / NXT; 

[searchingwardrobes]

Early Leaf’s a Flower: 4/11

Now we reach the part of the story that has me nervous even though I am immensely proud of it. Emma and Killian will be separated for a bit here in the middle, but I just need ya'll to hang with me and trust me, okay? This is where the "fate" part of the summary begins to come into play.

This is also when Emma meets Neal and Killian meets Milah. I am writing these relationships more along the lines of being young and making immature decisions rather than villainizing Neal and Milah. In canon, Neal and Milah were both significantly older than Emma and Killian (which is an interesting parallel I have never thought much about before, come to think of it), but in this story, all four of them are the same age (17). There is no relation whatsoever between Neal and Milah in this story. Neal is also just Neal, not Bae. In other words, he has no connection to the fairy tale realms. He's just another runaway teenager.

I have to once again thank the mods of the @captainswanbigbang​ , and my betas @shippingtheswann​, @distant-rose​, and @optomisticgirl​ for believing in this fic, especially this section and for encouraging me when I doubted myself. I especially want to give a shout out to Ro who encouraged me to write Milah in the way I had envisioned instead of changing her character to please the fandom.

So, fingers crossed, here we go! Got your tissues ready?

Summary: She saw eyes that were the blue of the forget me not peering at her through the cracked door of the wardrobe. He saw hair as gold as the buttercups. Why does the wardrobe keep bringing them back to one another, if fate keeps tearing them apart? Or maybe fate has her reasons …

Rating: M for eventual sexy times, violence, canonical character death, and attempted rape

Trigger warnings: vague references to child abuse (physical and sexual), violence, and positive Millian

Words: Around 7k in this chapter (all chapters will be rather lengthy from here on out)

** Complete and updated every Monday** Also on Ao3

Emma: Age 17

Emma wipes at her cheeks, frustrated with herself for crying. Those people don’t deserve her tears. She plops down on the bench in front of the bus stop in downtown Bangor, Maine, the one bag she always keeps packed at her feet. She’s fully aware of what running away at seventeen means.

There will be no more chances.

That makes her frustrated with herself, too. The fact that a tiny part of her still clings to hope, even now. Even after the words her foster father spoke just this evening.

“We have to think of our children, Emma, if you’re going to act this way.”

“Our” children - and that didn’t include her. They didn’t even wait to hear her side of the story. They never asked why she got into the fight in the first place and never once thought that maybe the pot in her book bag wasn’t even hers. It was clear how they saw her - a screwed up orphan who couldn’t be trusted.

She sees the bus coming towards her, and she snatches her bag. She’s not sure how far she can get on the cash she’s got, but any place is better than here. She never belonged in the suburbs anyway.

All she has in her pocket is a little cash that she lifted from her former foster mother’s purse. Portland - that’s how far the cash gets her, with a few bucks left over. She blows it all on a grilled cheese and onion rings in a greasy diner next to the bus stop. She gets as many refills of her soda as she can before the waitress starts to get suspicious.

A year in the suburbs has made Emma rusty, and she wastes way too much time wandering around the city. She hopes that she’s at least walking with a purpose. The most important rule on the streets is to never show vulnerability or weakness.

It begins to rain, and she needs a place to sleep. The corner of her mouth kicks up in the hint of a smile when she sees what’s a block ahead near the pier. It’s a carnival, closed for the season. Better yet, there’s a gap in the gate of the chain link just wide enough for a slender girl to slip through. Surely there’s a warm, dry place to spend the night somewhere on the grounds.

As Emma walks around the silent carnival, she has to admit that it’s a bit eerie. The swings move subtly in the breeze, their chains clanking. Rain pelts the colorful awnings and drips down the boarded up booths. The rain starts to come down harder, and Emma dashes across the grounds with her hoodie over her head. It’s getting dark fast.

“Hey! Hey, you!”

The voice is jolting in the abandoned setting, and Emma’s feet move faster. She clambers aboard a dark carousel just as the pouring rain turns into a full blown storm. The wind whistles around the still carousel, and lightning illuminates the immobile faces of horses, zebras, and unicorns.

Emma hears the shouts again, almost inaudible over the storm, and she drops down on all fours. She scrambles beneath the feet of the wooden menagerie to the very center of the carousel. She presses her back against the wood, heart pounding.

The beam of a flashlight cuts through the darkness, and Emma claps her hands to her mouth as if that can help cloak her from the light.

“Who’s there?”

Emma’s hands slip from her face as she realizes that it isn’t the voice of an adult. Still, she looks around frantically, hoping to see a service door somewhere. A security guard would call the cops, but another teenager might do something ten times worse to a girl alone out here. Emma can’t see a damn thing between the flashes of lightning, so she crawls along the edges of the center of the carousel, hands groping for an opening.

“Hey, stop!” the voice shouts again, and the light of the flashlight blinds Emma. Hands reach out, but she fights against them. “Stop it, I’m not gonna hurt you!”

The only reason she believes him is because he releases her. Her eyes blink open, but all she can see is a shadowy figure leaning over her. The flashlight is rolling away on the floor of the carousel. The lightning flashes again, just long enough to show her the face of a teenage boy. They’re plunged back into darkness, however, just as quickly.

“You a runaway too?”

“Too?”

“Hey listen,” he says, gently touching her arm, “I’m gonna go get my flashlight, okay? Don’t run off.”

Emma isn’t sure if it’s his youth or her fear of the storm that keeps her where she is. He comes back, shining the flashlight at her feet so he doesn’t blind her again. When he hunkers down in front of her, the light fully illuminates him, and she’s able to get a good look at him: extremely thick, slightly curly brown hair that falls into his dark brown eyes, a boyish smile, and a nose that’s a tad too large for his face. The hoodie he’s wearing is stained, ripped, and soaked from the rain.

“I’m Neal,” he tells her, “Neal Cassidy.”

She simply regards him suspiciously.

“This is the part where you tell me your name,” he adds with a grin.

Emma turns away from his gaze and crosses her arms stubbornly. He sighs.

“I get it, I really do, but you’re gonna have to trust me.”

“I don’t have to do anything,” she snaps.

“If you want to survive, you do,” he replies solemnly. “Now, do you wanna see where we sleep or not? Cause it’s a lot better than this carousel.”

“We?”

Killian: Age 17

“Man overboard!”

The crew of the Jolly Roger rush to get ropes as soon as the words leave Curly’s mouth from where he stands guard in the crow’s nest. It’s a mission they’ve been through many times, fishing lost boys out of the water.

“Starboard!” Curly yells, and they hurry to that side of the ship.

The Jolly Roger, despite being captained by a boy of seventeen, is still the finest ship to sail the seas in any realm, just as it was under its other name - The Jewel of the Realm. And despite its crew ranging in age from twelve to eighteen, her familiar outline shimmering on the horizon is already enough to strike fear in the hearts of the most experienced sailors. For one, the Jolly Roger with its pegasus sail has been known to drop upon a ship from the skies above. Then there are the tales of the demon pirate children and their one-handed captain, stories that have almost reached the status of legend. Enough so that Hook and his crew have to shed very little blood. Their intent is to avenge the death of Liam Jones, and to that end, crippling the navy of King George is enough.

Killian Jones is no longer the navy's disciplined sailor he was a year ago, but more importantly, he also is no longer a boy. Plenty of sailors underestimate him because of his age, but few seventeen year olds carry the experience or the tragedy of Captain Hook.

As for Pan, Killian hasn’t forgotten the day he slashed his brother with dreamshade. Though Captain Hook longs for a more violent revenge, the best he can do for the moment is rescue Pan’s boys from thinning, and occasionally, save a boy from Pan’s shadow. Not all boys come to Peter willingly, and many used to perish in the waves around the island until Hook started fishing them out of the water. Both practices have caused The Jolly Roger’s crew to swell over the past year.

On this particular day, his crew is fishing their latest recruit out of the water. Two in as many days? Pan doesn’t usually send his shadow out that frequently. Then again, he’d thinned a few recently. No matter how hard the pirates try to save them, not all Lost Boys realize the intent of their leader until it’s too late. Hook’s current cabin boy also fought off the shadow just yesterday. Killian grins as he thinks of Pan’s frustration. He lounges against a few barrels, crossing his legs at the ankles, and casually watches his crew work the ropes. He arches a brow as the wet figure flops to the deck.

“Looks like it’s a pirate’s life for you, boy,” he says. As the “boy” stands, Captain Hook finds himself speechless, something that hasn’t happened in well over a year.

The entire crew gasps, for standing before them, dripping wet, chest heaving, and fire in her eyes is not a lost boy but a lost girl. She wears a corseted dress that shows off an ample amount of her bosom, and Hook’s been in enough ports to know a lady of the night when he sees one. Yet she is, indeed, a girl. Not a woman. Anger flashes clearly in his suddenly darkening eyes. His crew misinterprets it as frustration towards the girl herself. They all eye her warily and step a few paces away from her.

Hook draws closer to her, removing his long leather duster as he does so. She lifts her chin defiantly, almost hiding the shiver that courses through her body. He swings the duster towards her, the words of a gentleman on his tongue, but she slaps his hand away. The crew murmurs nervously, but all Hook does is smirk at her.

“You are cold, lass, I was offering my coat.”

“I don’t need your charity,” she spits, “all I need is to find someone, and I’ll be on my way.”

Killian’s brow arches as he regards her. “I see. Unfortunately for you, that will be rather difficult to accomplish without the aid of me and my crew.”

She props her hands on her hips and scowls at him. “Doubtful.”

He draws closer and leans forward to whisper in her ear. “No. Fact.”

She narrows her stormy gray eyes at him, and he’s close enough to see the swirls of blue in them. Some of her dark curls have stuck to her wet face, and he wants to reach out and brush them away, but he refrains. She strikes him as the type of lass who would not welcome such a gesture.

A sudden, high pitched shout of delight breaks the tension, and the girl lets out a cry as she shoves past Killian. She falls to her knees in front of Hook’s new cabin boy, a lad of only six, and envelops him in her arms.

“Mason!” she says, her hard facade slipping away as she holds the boy tight and cries with joy. “I’ve been so worried ever since that shadow -”

“It’s okay!” the boy interrupts with childish exuberance. He rushes over to his Captain and tugs on his hook. “Captain Hook let me join his crew! I’m his cabin boy!”

Those eyes of hers become tumultuous again, and Killian regards her in contemplation. The boy is six, the lad told him so, but surely this girl can’t be his mother. He knows, however, that not all the girls in the brothels are of age, nor are they all there by choice. He guesses the young lady before him would have had to give birth at the age of only thirteen, at the most, if she truly is the boy’s mother.

“What have you been doing to him?” she snaps.

“Taking care of him,” Killian says calmly but with authority, “and a thank you would be in order that we fished him out of the sea.”

“And kept him hidden from Peter Pan,” Starkey, his first mate, adds.

Killian kneels before Mason. “How about you go below and get some hardtack from cook while I talk to your -”

“Sister. And her name is Milah.”

Killian lets out a small sigh of relief. “Yes, your sister.”

“Okay!” Mason chirps as he skips off. Killian watches him go fondly. They normally don’t take on boys as young as he is, but Mason had fought the shadow tooth and nail where most lads his age are eager to see The Neverland. He sees a jadedness in the boy’s eyes that is much too familiar.

Killian stands and turns to Mason’s sister. He bows. “Milah, I believe it is?”

“Yes,” she says coolly.

“If I may have a word with you, m’lady?”

She tosses her hair saucily over one shoulder, yet takes the arm he offers her anyway. He glares at his crew and shouts for them to get back to work. He and Milah stroll to the ship’s bow.

“May I ask,” he begins, knowing he must proceed with caution, “how you managed to follow your brother here?”

Milah sighs and lets go of his arm. “A week ago, Mason told me about the shadow coming to our window. He said it whispered to him about a place where orphan boys can be free. I’m ashamed to say that I brushed it off as a dream.”

“But it kept coming back.”

Milah nods. “It began to frighten Mason, too. He said that the shadow wanted to take him away from me. I told him to keep the window locked. I have to work nights, you see . . . “ Milah trails off, a blush rising to her cheeks as she looks away from him in shame.

“Hey,” Killian says softly, turning her chin gently towards him, “I was sold as a slave when I wasn’t much older than Mason. I know what it means to just survive.”

She holds his gaze for only a moment before turning away, her hard demeanor back in place. “Anyway, I came home one night to see the shadow for myself, but it already had Mason. I lunged for my brother, but it was too late, the shadow was flying away with him.”

“Then how did you get here?” He glances up at the pegasus sail fluttering above them. “It is no easy feat, lass.”

Milah smiles with a bit of pride behind her eyes. “I went to a sorceress in the village square. It took far too much of my coin, but she had the information I sought. She said if I stood before my open window and said I believe, the shadow would come for me.”

“And it did,” Killian says, unable to keep the admiration from his voice.

She nods. “Aye, but the sorceress warned me not to let the shadow take me all the way to the island. I wasn’t sure why, but figured I should listen, so -”

“So here we are.” Killian leans against the railing, admiring the way the sea air rustles her curls. She shivers again, and he once again offers his coat. This time, she accepts.

“Here we are,” she says, suddenly shy. He sees now a hint of her real age.

“How old are you?” he asks gently, hoping she won’t take the question as anything more than genuine curiosity.

She bites her bottom lip as she clutches his duster tighter. “Seventeen.”

His cheeks dimple with the force of his smile. “So am I .”

“Are you serious?” Her jaw drops. “The fearsome Captain Hook is just a boy?”

“A boy!”

She laughs teasingly, then cocks her head at him. “So, does the offer still stand?”

He tilts his head. “Offer?”

“You know, a pirate’s life for me.”

He reaches out and adjusts the heavy coat that rests on her slim shoulders. “Yes, Milah. I think you’ll make a damn good pirate.”

Emma: Age 17

Emma stares out across the dark carnival grounds, pushing the swing around idly with her foot. She hears chains clink behind her and sighs wearily.

“Hey,” Neal says, grasping the chains of her swing and spinning her to face him.

“Hey.”

He searches her face and gives her a boyish grin. “Don’t let them get to you, Ems.”

She says nothing. She searches his eyes, for what she isn’t sure. He tugs the swing forward and captures her lips in a kiss. She kisses him back for a moment, then pushes gently on his chest.

“I’m still mad at you,” she grumbles.

He shakes his head and chuckles, which causes Emma a tiny prick of irritation. He lifts the metal bar of the swing nearest her and sits, his long, awkward teenage legs sprawled out on either side of hers.

“They were just messing with us. They know we’re a thing, so -”

“It was my first time, Neal!” Emma snaps before he can finish.

“It’s not like I planned it or anything,” he shoots back, still with that infuriating grin on his face, “one thing led to another -”

“I was there, Neal,” she tells him dryly.

“My point is, I didn’t mean for it to happen that way.”

Emma blushes as the memories of the night before come back to her. “You said they wouldn’t be able to hear us.”

“I didn’t know you were going to moan that loud.”

She kicks him, but can’t help smiling shyly at his teasing. He leans forward and yanks her swing close to his until their noses are brushing.

“I also didn’t know you were going to cry out my name like that.”

She bites her lip at the heated look in his eyes. Honestly, she had yelped his name more than crying it out. It had hurt at first, but she’s too embarrassed to tell him that.

“I . . . “ she swallows thickly as he presses a kiss right at the corner of her mouth, “Neal, I . . . “

“Yes?” he mumbles against her neck.

Emma stops the explorations of his lips with her hands to his cheeks so she can look him in the eye. “I think . . . that is, I . . . I love you, Neal.”

He smiles brightly then, pulling her close and kissing her with incredible passion. He doesn’t say anything back, doesn’t say he loves her too. She tells herself that’s okay, though. After all, they’re only seventeen.

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

Lily is the leader. Emma isn’t sure exactly how that came to be, though she guesses it has something to do with Lily’s intimidating demeanor. There’s something darkly intense about her, an edge behind her dusky eyes that makes everyone in their crew afraid to question her authority.

There are seven of them, including Emma, forming a loose sort of family. Neal had been correct that first night - the supply warehouse they’re squatting in is a much better place to crash than the carousel. It’s a slightly macabre final resting place for anything broken or out of use, from rusted coaster cars to broken haunted house furniture. There’s even an old red sleigh and a troupe of ten-foot tall nutcrackers when the carnival had apparently been open for the holidays.

Neal was also telling the truth that they’re all runaways. Emma, however, is the only actual orphan. Truth be told, she secretly thinks the rest of them are all a little self absorbed in their reasons to leave home. Neal’s dad apparently had become angry and bitter after his mother’s death. Emma has to keep from rolling her eyes every time Neal tells her how the man “just didn’t understand him anymore.” Claudia and Jamie felt overlooked in a big family, Sam just longed for adventure, and August chafed against his father’s rules. Then there’s Lily, adopted as an infant by parents who she claims never loved her and - naturally - didn’t understand her. The whole “they don’t understand me” thing is a constant refrain, and one Emma is frankly a little tired of hearing.

When Neal had brought her to the group that first night, he’d gone straight to Lily who had regarded Emma, shivering and dripping water on the concrete floor, with casual disdain. Then her mouth had ticked up into a smile that Emma couldn’t quite read.

“Welcome to the family,” she’d told her, and only then had the rest of the group even approached her. They’d each carved out space amongst all the junk, using bits of this and pieces of that to make beds. There wasn’t really a “bed” for Emma, though, so Neal had offered to share his. When Jamie, who is only thirteen, snickered, Emma had blushed and said she’d figure something else out.

“Oh don’t be such a baby,” Lily had snapped with a roll of her eyes, “we already know he wants to fuck you. Emma’s staying with Neal, and that’s just how it is.”

She’d said the last as if it were a royal proclamation, and everyone had scattered to go to bed for the night. Neal’s face had been bright red, and he’d not only mumbled an apology, but had been a perfect gentleman that first night.

But only the first night. And now here she is, in the first real relationship of her young life, and five other kids heard every word of it. It’s humiliating and degrading. Yet Emma knows better than to mess this thing up. Lily’s crew means protection, it means seven kids pulling cons and picking pockets and sharing the spoils. And it may not be the family she’s spent her whole life dreaming of, but it’s better than being alone.

Emma isn’t sure where Neal is at the moment. She’s attempting to get a moment to herself, hidden behind the broken down cotton candy machine that makes one “wall” of the “bedroom” she shares with Neal. Claudia had swiped a pad of paper and some pencils from a discount store yesterday and hadn’t minded sharing with Emma. It’s been years since she’s sketched, but inspiration struck. Her pencil flies across the paper, and when she’s finished, tears sting inexplicably at the corner of her eyes. It’s the wardrobe. She bites on her lower lip and swallows back a sudden lump in her throat. She remembers the sparkle in Killian’s eyes and a bit of sadness sweeps over her as she wonders where he is right now. She shakes her head and crumples the paper in her hand. Why the hell is she thinking about that wardrobe today?

“Emma?”

She jolts and turns to see Jamie standing there. “Neal wanted me to give you this,” he tells her as he hands her a piece of paper.

Emma rolls her eyes as she takes the paper from him. “You can wipe that shit-eating grin off your face, Jamie.”

His grin only gets wider. “Did Claude tell you she swiped some ear plugs for me? She doesn’t want your sex noises corrupting me.”

She jumps up to smack the kid across his smug face, but he darts away laughing before she can reach him. Letting out a frustrated huff of breath, she opens the note he’s given her.

“Meet me at the spot where we first met. xoxo Neal”

Even though the xoxo postscript is a little middle school, she can’t help the smile that fills her face. She heads eagerly for the carousel and finds Neal waiting for her. He grabs her around the waist and kisses her in greeting, and when they part Emma has to catch her breath.

“Where have you been all day?” she asks him.

The grin he gives her fills his face and lights up his brown eyes. “Working on a surprise.”

She smiles back, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. “A surprise? For who?”

He shrugs teasingly. “I was thinking maybe Claudia would like it - ow!” He rubs at where she punched him in the arm, though her indignation seems to only make his smile broader. “Just kidding, Ems, you know it’s for you. Come on!”

Neal pulls her across the carnival grounds almost at a run, and Emma is breathless again when he stops in front of an office door. She quirks a brow at him.

“What’s in there?”

He shuffles his feet back and forth, nervous for the first time. “Um, just close your eyes.”

Emma eyes him suspiciously.

“Please?”

She shrugs and complies. She hears the door swing open, and Neal tugs her hands gently to lead her inside. The door shuts behind her, and she feels Neal pressed up against her back. He leans forward and whispers in her ear.

“Keep your eyes closed until I say.”

“Okay,” she agrees, letting her breath out in a huff.

“I’m really sorry about how our first time went. I should have planned it - made it special. So . . . maybe this will make it up to you?”

He tells her to open her eyes, and when she does, she sees a small, modest office with wood paneling, filing cabinets, and a musty smell. However, there’s also a couch along one wall that Neal has scattered with rose petals and on every flat surface in the room, tea candles flicker.

“Well?” he asks her, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels.

“I . . . I . . . “ Emma swallows around the sudden lump in her throat. “How did you even get in here?”

She worries that maybe she’s hurt his feelings, but Neal just shrugs. “I picked the lock. It was a simple one with no deadbolt, so . . . “

Emma wanders around the small room, taking in every candle, reaching out to touch some of the rose petals.

“They’re fake,” he tells her apologetically. “The convenience store didn’t have real ones. Oh, and I got you something else!”

Neal reaches into his jeans pocket and pulls out a key chain which he dangles in front of her. Emma reaches out to take it, smiling down at the round pendant.

“It’s a swan.” She throws her arms around him and gives him a brief kiss. “I love it!”

She wraps her arms tighter around him as he pulls her close. She buries her nose in his shoulder and revels in his embrace. Then, suddenly, a bright fluorescent light catches her eye. Just over Neal’s shoulder is another door, and through the square window in its center she sees something she remembers from her past.

“What’s that?” she whispers as she steps away from Neal and draws closer to the door.

“Oh, that’s the arcade,” Neal tells her, “this office must be for the manager.”

Emma turns the knob and is surprised to find it unlocked. She steps out into the dark arcade, drawing closer to the glass cube that pulses with a neon glow.

“I wonder why that one’s still plugged in,” Neal muses.

Emma presses her palm to the glass and draws closer. Voices from the past drift to the forefront of her memory. Now, decide which prize you want, and focus. Emma remembers the way the game had sparked, how Sarah hadn’t seemed fazed at all. The claw in this machine hangs immobile, and Emma gives a soft gasp as she sees the prize right below it - a stuffed white rabbit with a pink ribbon around its neck.

“Emma?” Neal asks hesitantly.

What if you did have magic, Emma?

I travel to you through an enchanted wardrobe, Emma. And you think magic sounds crazy?

“Emma?” Neal tries again.

“Do you believe in magic?” she whispers, her hand still pressed to the glass, her gaze still fixed on that stuffed rabbit.

Neal laughs. “I don’t know if you’ve been paying attention, but this life of ours ain’t no fairy tale.”

A tear slips from the corner of Emma’s eye and rolls down her cheek. “But there are things that can’t be explained. Aren’t there?”

Neal steps closer and grasps her loosely by the elbow. “Emma, what’s wrong? You’re kind of freaking me out.”

Emma shakes her head, swiping at the wet spot on her cheek. “Nothing.”

Neal turns her to face him, his eyes searching hers carefully. “Is this still about the sex thing?”

Emma can’t help it, she blurts out a laugh. “Don’t worry, Cassidy, you didn’t waste all those candles.”

His pupils widen as he grins eagerly. “Well, I’m relieved to hear that. Although I stole the candles so . . . “

Emma shakes her head and throws her arms around his neck. “It’s the thought that counts.”

“You know,” Neal says softly, rubbing her arms, “everyone’s on edge because the carnival’s off season is almost over.”

Emma sighs and presses her forehead to his. “I know. Lily wants to have a meeting tomorrow to talk about it.”

“What if we . . . took off on our own?”

Emma rolls her eyes. “You can’t be serious. Where would we even go?”

“Well, don’t tell Lily this,” he says, looking around nervously as if Lily might be hiding behind the pinball machines, “but I’ve had a few big scores that I’ve kept to myself.”

“Seriously? How much?”

“Enough to get us pretty far,” he tells her confidently, then he’s yanking her hand eagerly back inside the office. He stops in front of a map of the United States hanging next to a small desk. Grinning broadly, he sweeps his hand across the expanse of it. “Come on, Emma, dream big. Where do you want to go?”

She shakes her head. “You’re crazy.”

He wraps his arms around her waist. “Only about you.” Then he releases her, and turns her towards the map. “Go ahead, pick someplace, and it’s yours.”

“Mine? Or ours?”

“Ours.”

Emma smiles, her cheeks flushed, then she closes her eyes, extends her hand and walks blindly towards the map. When her finger collides with its surface, she opens her eyes.

“Tallahassee,” she reads aloud, then she spins to face Neal, “is there a beach?”

“It’s Florida.” He shrugs. “It’s all beach.”

Emma rests her hands on his shoulders and gives him a slow, tender kiss. “So we’re doing this?”

“Yeah. Tallahassee it is.”

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

Emma really doesn’t like riding in the back of this van. Or more specifically, her stomach doesn’t like it. She moans and rests her head on Neal’s shoulder.

“Are you okay?” he asks her.

“You two aren’t naked back there are you?” Jamie asks in a loud, obnoxious voice.

“Shut up, you little shit!” Emma yells back.

Correction, Emma doesn’t like being in this van at all. This ugly, avocado van from the early 80s that smells like a sickening combination of pot and urine. Neal had said they were going to head off on their own once the crew left the carnival, yet here they are. They’d had a fight about it, but Neal had insisted that they needed a bit more cash. Lily had a big con planned, and once they pulled it off, getting to Tallahassee would be child’s play.

Emma’s stomach roils, and she scrambles over the three rows of bench seats to the front passenger seat. She almost pukes all over Jamie, which would have been great karma, come to think of it. She plops down next to Lily, who’s driving, and quickly rolls the manual window down. She sighs in relief once the cool air hits her face.

“Car sick?” Lily asks.

“Yeah,” Emma sighs as she presses her temple against the side of the window.

“Well, you can stay up here with me.”

“Thanks. Where are we going, again?”

Lily grins as she glances at Emma, then back to the road. “All the ski resorts up here are closing up for the summer. The people who own cabins up here are loaded. We can squat in style until fall.”

Emma narrows her eyes. “But Neal said we’d be flush with cash.”

Lily gives her that icy look that says she finds Emma incredibly naive. “Of course we will. Before we head out, we’ll clean the place out. We’re talking major electronics - TVs, gaming systems, DVD players.”

“Okay,” Emma says warily.

“Just you wait,” Lily assures, “it’s gonna be incredible.”

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

On her third night in the vacation home in the mountains, Emma wakes up to a flashlight blinding her eyes and questions being shouted at her. As the cops escort her down the stairs and out the front door, she sees that the others have cleaned the place out already. Nothing but wires stick out of the wall in the family room where the tv, vcr, and gaming system had been connected. She’s barefoot and in a pair of pajamas that she’d found in the master bedroom drawer, but none of the cops seem to care as they put her in the squad car. She’s not handcuffed, though, maybe because she was too disoriented to resist.

Emma sits there in the back seat, cursing her stupidity. She should have seen this coming the moment Lily smirked at her that first night. There were so many signs that the girl was a complete narcissist, and Emma had missed them all. How could she ever think Lily was her friend?

Emma reaches into the pocket of her pajama pants and clutches the small white stick she’d slipped inside before going to bed. Why she’d put it there, she doesn’t even know. She shouldn’t be surprised that Neal bailed on her after the way he reacted when she’d told him. He’d literally recoiled from her, his face pale.

Well, they’d taken care of her, hadn’t they? The expensive silver from the dining room slipped into her bag was an especially nice touch. A clean break from the girl who was nothing but a burden.

After all, what crew of teen runaways wants a pregnant seventeen year old?

Killian: Age 17

Killian’s eyes blink open drowsily, and he doesn’t feel particularly ready to get out of bed. He shoves his pillow under his chest, groans, and then reaches out to pull Milah close. All he feels is empty sheets. He rolls over to look around the cabin, and there she is, clad in her shift, her dark curls a riotous mess down her back. She’s standing in front of the wardrobe, running her fingers over the intricate carvings that cover the doors.

“How did you get this?” she asks.

Killian hops up out of bed, wrapping the sheets around his waist. “It’s um, always been here, even back when this was a naval ship.”

“What do you even keep in this thing?”

“No, don’t!” he shouts, slamming his good hand against the door before she can open it. He isn’t wearing his hook, so the sheets he was grasping tumble to the floor.

Milah looks him up and down appreciatively and smirks. “Though I like the view better without the sheet, why are you so jumpy about a piece of furniture?”

“I um . . . I just . . .” Killian snatches up the sheets and holds them in front of himself while he turns and presses his back to the wardrobe. “I don’t want anything to happen to you. This wardrobe - it’s magic.”

Milah’s eyes widen. “Magic? How?”

“It opens a portal to another realm.”

“Really?” she replies, skeptically. “Prove it.”

Killian blinks rapidly, his brain scrambling for a reply, but all that comes out is one word. “No.”

“No?” Her hands are on her hips, and her glare could curdle milk. “What are you hiding?”

“I’m not hiding anything!”

“Then why are you blushing?”

He feels his cheeks heat even more under her icy stare. What’s he hiding? Only that he checks the wardrobe every day? That despite the fact that he cares deeply for Milah, he still sometimes wonders where Emma is and if she’s okay? He feels so nervous under Milah’s intense stare that he stumbles sideways when she shoves him in the shoulder.

“Milah!” he shouts as she flings open the wardrobe. He lets out a relieved breath when all that’s inside is an empty rod for hanging clothes.

“Is this some kind of joke?” she demands when she whirls back to face him.

Killian collapses on the edge of the bed and reaches out a hand to her. “Come here, and I’ll tell you.”

She eyes him warily but sits anyway. He runs his hand nervously through his hair, unsure where to begin. He finally decides to just start at the beginning when he was ten. Once he starts talking, he can’t seem to stop, and he tells her everything: his crush on Emma, the white rabbit, even the kiss. When he finally finishes, he looks at Milah sheepishly.

“I’m sorry.”

Milah smiles softly and cups his face gently. “Why? Because you loved someone before you met me?”

Killian blinks rapidly. “Loved?”

She shrugs. “I mean, it was puppy love, maybe, but it was real. And pretty cute, actually.”

He tilts his head in surprise. “Really?”

She brushes a kiss to his cheek. “Really.” She looks back over at the wardrobe. “So you were nervous that I might end up face to face with her. With Emma?”

Killian rubs his face. “Aye, I suppose.”

Milah laughs. “I guess that could have been awkward, especially since you’re wearing nothing but a sheet right now.”

Milah’s eyes turn a darker shade of gray as she runs her hands over his chest and pushes him back down on his cot. He was nervous six months ago when their relationship first turned physical. Milah was obviously very experienced and was used to men, not boys. Yet she told him as he held her close in the afterglow that before him, all she had known were men who took from her, often violently. He was different.

Still, there was a part of Milah he felt that he could never quite reach.Her homelife had been difficult and became worse once her mother remarried. However, she had never told him exactly what life had been like with her stepfather. All she would say was that the man had planned to marry her off to a local farmer when she was fourteen, so she’d run away. The thing was, she’d taken Mason with her. Killian knew there had to be more to the story than that.

It felt as if Milah was holding back when they were making love, too. She was definitely teaching him things, and he certainly didn’t mind that. It was more that she seemed to get uncomfortable anytime Killian tried to initiate anything. She wanted to be in control, so he let her. As long as she felt safe, that was all that mattered.

Besides, it wasn’t as if he had much to offer her. A seventeen year old boy with a mutilated stump instead of a left hand leading a crew of kids. Milah took to being a pirate naturally, however, wielding a sword and fighting just as well as the rest of them. There was even a type of manic joy on her face when they overtook a crew, as if she were getting vengeance on every man who had ever touched her.

Emma had always been a mystery to him, but it was because her entire existence felt like a fantasy. Milah was a mystery to him in a different way. She confused him and fascinated him in equal measure. She was a deep well, jaded and wounded, that he wasn’t sure he could ever plumb even though he wanted to. Thoughts of Emma Swan, though they still plagued him at times, seemed to belong to an entirely different boy. A boy he wasn’t sure still existed.

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

[florenceisfalling]

hello!! can u explain how orchestra got ahold of tiponi and cassidy as well? and any other kiddos i’m missing ??? i’m love this story with my entire being !!!!

edit: tiponi’s name has been changed to tiva

hello!! i really hope ur sleeping now!!

orchestra never really did get ahold of those two! one reason why is that it didn’t know them for very long - while harlow had connections to huxley and lilith since early childhood, tiva and cassidy only came along later down the line.

another reason is their coping! huxley, lilith, and harlow were all in very vulnerable parts of life when orchestra re-entered; they were all alone. however, cassidy only met orchestra AFTER befriending the kiddos, so she had a pretty good support group goin on. in addition, tiva was always pretty active in communities of people like them (in fact, they come into the story bc lilith was in a gsa club with them a few years prior, and was hoping they could help harlow with some transitioning stuff) and had better means to cope with their feelings of alienation and hurt. 

if orchestra did manage to make tiva and cassidy a part of it’s collection of kiddos, it would have used cassidy’s little cousin samirah (as shown in the sword-stabbing story!) and probably friend groups or some sort of authority figure for tiva. cassidy’s Crippling Guilt™ causes her to wish DESPERATELY for her cousin to come back, and tiva used to have some serious Desire to Appeal to Others, especially people like teachers, group leaders, etc.... but now tiva hates authority and its too late for orchestra to use that, so yknow.

so yeah! those two are mostly safe from “belonging” to orchestra at this point, but that doesn’t mean they’re safe from it’s influence completely.......

anywho!

gnight and thank you very much!!!! i hope this made any sense <3

[axel-mania]

Please talk about Zack.

favorite thing about them 

If I have to choose just one it would be his humbleness, which leads him to be considerate in real life, but also has great implications for his character. Not only does it mean he’s able to identify how an ego can grow out of control and portray it suitably obnoxiously, it also means he’s happy to debase him doing ridiculous things and portray himself as completely destroyed by his opponents. Then there’s when his true humbleness even shines through in his character when he tries to downplay his accomplishments around the other Suzuki-gun members and bashfully shuts down their praise. Really love that. 

least favorite thing about them

The way his dramatic selling makes me scared for him! He goes all glassy-eyed and limp and still through his pride tries to fight the exhaustion weighing down his body, as if he can be more than the human he is with enough confidence and effort. I suppose this isn’t particularly rare for wrestlers, but the way he specifically portrays it is so striking visually. If I have to give a real dislike, it’s that he’s held onto the British Heavyweight Title for so long. It belongs in its own company, and I feel it’s kept him from being in serious contention for the IWGP belts. 

favorite line

“What’s next for Zack Sabre Jr.? Oh, bumming... I’m just going to fuck you,” said Zack, referring to Orange Cassidy, after bowling him over and saying some muffled even more NSFW things. Non-Seb readers, please watch the video! It’s always been lovely how aggressive Zack has been in getting through the message that his opponents are attractive to him, but even as a joke this is a whole new level of gay. 

brOTP

Taichi, though Best Friends are tempting. Godspeed You! Zack Emperor. is an incredible friendship to watch. They’ve apparently wasted away the nights not just dancing but doing their best to have heart-to-heart talks through the language barrier, and this sincere attempt at understanding is what I think gives them a very close and natural feeling connection. They’re always on the same page in the ring, and Taichi sincerely tries to calm Zack down, and Zack sincerely tries to promote him, and Taichi thinks Zack is the nicest foreigner he’s ever met and a true British gentleman, and the way they hug and openly consider themselves brothers, and the way they always end up talking about the same things, and the way Taichi was so possessive of Zack after the Tag League civil war match oh wait oh no-- 

OTP

I mean, we all knew where this was going. Murder besties, Zakupe, El Desperado/Zack Sabre Jr. This is my M/M OTP period, actually, but you know that too, and you’ll probably know everything I’m about to inelegantly say. I guess what’s important about this pairing at the heart of it is that Zack is sweet and naive and unaware of SZKG power dynamics enough that Despy can go to him and be supported without worrying about it being chased by pain or a put-down. From the start of their tag partnership, it was clear that Zack liked Despy, and trusted him and his instincts where others didn’t. He’s even gifted Despy a vape pen, and then there was even the vegan bagel incident. Unsurprisingly, Despy latched on and awarded Zack’s attention with devotion, promising to be there for him, rubbing his shoulders whenever they’re together, making an effort to joke with him to get through the bullshit. They stay physically close and touch each other constantly whenever they’re given the chance to appear in the same place. That certainly implies something, though we can argue about what exactly. 

Then there’s the little we know of how Zack reacted to Despy in NOAH, and the intrigue he must have felt, facing this mysterious guy whose face he can never see, who acts romantically towards him one second and then tries to injure him the next. That dissolved into the comfortable companionship they have now, but there’s no reason Zack wouldn’t still find Despy too interesting for his own good. Especially now that he can see what he looks like under the mask, lol. As you and others have pointed out, it’s important for both of them to be with someone that truly likes them and that isn’t an unattainable object to be chased, or an enemy to be destroyed. It’s their best chance at healthiness, and means they can finally have the intimacy (and handsome partner) they deserve. Two seemingly unloveable awful people choosing each other. Suzuki-gun is great at having a fierce loyalty and respect for anyone in their group, and absolute disregard for anyone outside it like they’re the scum under their shoes. And that kind of us against the world dynamic is just fucking great, tbh, especially between the two most visibly othered members of the group.

nOTP

I guess it would have to be Zack and the Boss. The Boss acts like his father more than anything, and Zack admires him like one, and there is a severe power imbalance there… the Boss is clever enough that he knows exactly what he could get away with ordering Zack to do, and that is a very wide pool of things. I’m not saying it couldn’t be written well, and in fact I’ve enjoyed fic where a younger Minoru time-travels and does things with Zack, but it’s not something I’m ever going to want to see. Maybe that’s hypocritical though because I fucking love the ship that is Taichi’s unrequited crush on the Boss lol 

random headcanon

He and his old tag partner Marty Scrull are amicable exes. They have a quiet sort of affection for each other, never intense but in a way that feels like they knew each other well once and can always rely on the other person as a comfortable place to be whenever they cross paths. It’s not just they had multiple tag team iterations, showing their relationship endured even after they stopped thinking of the two of them as the center of the (wrestling) world, but they also kissed and fell asleep on each other... But it feels like maybe Zack has evolved past Marty now, idk. 

unpopular opinion

I don’t understand why people hate him! Everything about Zack that’s supposed to be awful and obnoxious I just find funny and endearing. But then I’m broken and can’t properly react to wrestling anymore, a heel apologist, so... 

song i associate with them

You’ve made me associate Zack with Colossus by Idles. The flurry of pro-wrestling references and passion for justice in the second half definitely captures what he’s trying to do! This is actually an easy one because Zack is such a big music fan that I can also listen to anything he’s mentioned like, say, Nothing Great About Britain by slowthai, and think of him.

favorite picture of them

The beauty of his submission work + his gentleness and patience with others + striking imagery + intimacy, hands. Also the skulls and adorned hearts remind me of Despy 

[hockeygods14]

Tyler Seguin - Its Always Been You

Masterlist

Word count: 2,455

Inspired by: Marry me - Thomas Rhett

Tyler’s POV

She wants to get married, she wants it perfect

She wants her grandaddy preaching the service

Yeah, she wants magnolias out in the country

Not too many people, save her daddy some money

Growing up with two sisters was easy but growing up with Y/N right next door was something else. When we were younger she was always in her backyard with her stuff animals they were all sitting in rows and she would have this white dress on that was a little too big for her. She had a pearl necklace around her neck that was no doubt her mothers and the white heels were most likely her moms too. She would stand next to a bear that was wearing a black suit and I would watch her get married to the bear. I was in aw of her when I watch her the first time but when he saw me she had been dressed in a black suit and stand next to her and pretend we were getting married. Our parents loved it they still talk about it all the time when our families get together. 

Y/N sometimes would sit in my treehouse and tell me how she wanted her wedding. She didn’t want too many people only close family and friends. She wanted magnolias because her grandparents have them at their house. She wanted it to be somewhere in the country. Even at a young age, she didn’t want to spend too much.

Ooh, she got it all planned out

Yeah, I can see it all right now

I'll wear my black suit, black tie, hide out in the back

I'll do a strong shot of whiskey straight out the flask

I'll try to make it through without crying so nobody sees

Yeah, she wanna get married

But she don't wanna marry me

I would be lying right now if I said I didn’t picture marrying Y/N one day.

I would put on a black suit almost like I wore when we were younger and almost like I wear on game day but nicer. I would have a black-tie on with magnolia on the jacket. 

I would be waiting with my groomsmen to walk down the aisle. I would look over my shoulder and Jamie would be right there giving me a big smile. He would hand me a flask for one sip to get me through this and to calm my nerves. My hand would be sweating and I would be shaking a little bit. I would probably look at my mom and she would tell me that she has never seen me this away not even before I won the Stanley Cup.

As I wait for Y/N to come down I would try not to cry because then I would never herd the end of it in the locker room. I would see both my sister walk in first they both say wait till you see her. I would be a goner when I see her and her dad walking down. Her smile is big and bright It would be just her and me against the world.

She’s going to have her perfect wedding one day but she won’t be marrying me.

I messed that up when I went to Boston.

My first season in the NHL I thought I had it all. I was wrong I didn’t tag to Y/N the whole time I was there and when I got traded to Dallas I tried to call Y/N but she would answer. I asked Candice why she wasn’t answering any of my calls, she told me I messed up and I need to fix my mistake and that’s what I didn’t. I went to her house and every day for three weeks until she would talk to me. When she did start to talk to me it took us a while to get back to us being close again and to where she could trust me. I was an idiot for what I did and I don’t blame her for not wanting to see or talk to me. I don’t deserve her as a friend.

I remember the night when I almost kissed her

Yeah, I kinda freaked out, we'd been friends for forever 

And I always wondered if she felt the same way

When I got the invite, I knew it was too late

There was one night after a game everyone was going over to Jamie’s house to celebrate that we made it to playoffs. Y/N was able to make it to the game it was very last minute but I was happy knowing she was there cheering me on. As I got dressed all I could think about was she was waiting for me outside that locker room.

“When are you going to tell her?” I look over at Jamie.

“What are you talking about?”

“When are you going to tell Y/N that you love her and not just as a friend but that you are in love with her? Because if you wait too long she’s going to find someone and that someone isn’t going to be the guy that plays hockey for the Dallas Stars and wear the number 91.” He grabbed his bag and walked out of the locker room before I could say anything. 

Would she find someone who is better than me? She could find someone that isn’t gone for most of the year playing hockey and training. She should find someone better than me but I would like nothing more than that someone to be me. 

I walked out of the locker room and I see Y/N standing there in my jersey with my name and number on the back and she could look hotter. I wouldn’t want anyone else down here waiting for me in my jersey than her.

“Tyler!” She yelled my name and ran up to me and wrapped her arms roundly neck and I wrapped mine around her waist and lifted her off the floor. “You had two amazing goals tonight!” I laughed and set her back down.

“I told you if you came I would get you a goal.” I put one arm around her shoulders and while she put on roundly waist. I pulled her a little closer and kissed her on the top of her head. “Some of the guys are going to Benn’s place to celebrate us going to playoffs you want to go?” I ask her really hoping she will say yes.

“Jamie actually already asked me to come and I told him I would but not for too long. I was hoping I could get a ride with you there?” I smiled at her she didn’t have to ask she knew she could get a ride. She could ask me for anything I would give it to her.

I was driving us to Jamie’s house, Y/N was sat next to me singing whatever song that came on. She was in such a good mood today. It was nice seeing her joking around with the guys and laugh with the other girls she just fits right in with everyone.

Once we got to Jamie’s house there were a lot more people than I thought there was going to be. I thought it was just going to be the team but I guess word got out and now it's one big house party. Y/N and I were walking up to the house when I felt someone grab my hand and interlace our figures together and I look down and see that the hand it belonged to was Y/N I smiled and lend us through the house to get something to drink. As we turned a corner I was pulled back around the corner and I saw it was Y/N that pulled me back.

“That girl that tried to get with you the other night at the bar is here,” I looked at her confused there are a lot of girls that come up to me at bars. Y/N rolled her eyes “The crazy one that said she went to school with you she wore that ugly green dress.” I thought back and now I remember. 

“Oh great now-“ Before I was able to finish I was pushed into Y/N which made her step back against the wall I had both hands planted on both sides of her head. Our faces were so close all I wanted to do was kiss her and it almost seemed like she wanted the same thing. I slowly started to lean in.

“Seguin!” I felt two hands go on my shoulders I turn and see its Radulov. I sighed and turn fully to him and great him. After he left I turn back to Y/N and see that she was gone.

I looked all over for her. Jamie ended up tell me an hour later thatch got an Uber home and that she didn't feel that well.

The next time I saw her she both acted like nothing happened. 

A week after that she told me she started seeing someone.

A year and a half after that I got a text from Y/N she sent me a picture. It was a picture of a ring on her finger.

Two months later I got a wedding invite.

And I know her daddy's been dreading this day

Oh, but he don't know he ain't the only one giving her away

I went back home to visit with my family. I had a couple days off. Mom and Dad were outback cooking. Candace and Cassidy were getting the plates and drinks to go outside. 

“Candace I think you got two too many plates there.” I look at the plates that she’s holding.

“Mom and dad didn’t tell you? Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N is coming over.” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath of course they are.

I walk outside and see everyone out there sitting around the table. I took a seat in front of Mr. Y/L/N.

“Are you guys ready for Y/N to get married?” My mom asked 

“No.” I looked right across the table. “I’m not ready to give my little girl away.” He’s not the only one that’s not ready to give her away. 

Bet she got on her dress now, welcoming the guests now

I could try to find her, get it off of my chest now

But I ain't gonna mess it up, so I'll wish her the best now

So I'm in my black suit, black tie, hiding out in the back

Doing a strong shot of whiskey straight out the flask

I'll try to make it through without crying so nobody sees

Yeah, she wanna get married

Yeah, she gonna get married

But she ain't gonna marry me

Whoa, she ain't gonna marry me, no

She was getting married in our home town. She was having the wedding that she has always dreamed about. 

I looked at the pictures that were placed down the path to our seats I see her smile with her soon to be husband. All I can see is that it isn’t me that she’s marrying. 

All I want to do was to go find her and tell her how I fell but I know that would upset her. I couldn’t do that to her. 

I take out my flask because I wouldn’t be able to make it through this wedding without it. I see both of my sister giving me a look to put it away and I do. I stand up from where I was sitting and start to walk back up the path. I hear my mom and sisters calling out for me but I don’t turn around. I couldn’t sit there and watch the person I love marry some else. I could sit there through all that seeing her happy with someone else.

I pull up to my parent's house and walk around the back. I look up at the treehouse and I climb up and just sit there thinking about the time I would be sitting in here and Y/N would be telling me about her dream wedding that she would have one day. I take a sip from my flask. I look off to Y/N parents backyard and think about the wedding we had when we were younger. I take a sip from my flask. I look back at my parent's house and I see Y/N walking through the gate and looking up at the treehouse. She was in her beautiful white cinderella dress. I could tell she had been crying I hurried down.

“What are you doing?” I ask her leaving space between us.

“What do you mean what am I doing? What are you doing Tyler? I looked for you while was walking down the aisle and you went there.” I put my hand in my pockets and looked down at the ground.

“You came all the way to get me to your wedding?” I could look at her.

“That wasn’t my wedding Tyler,” I looked up confused. “My wedding is supposed to be with the person I love most. It's supposed to be with my best friend. That man that was waiting for me to walking down the aisle was not him. Yes, I love him but I’m in love with someone else.”

“What are you talk about Y/N?” I’m still confused.

“God Tyler when are you going to see it? I mean everyone else sees it. Your whole team knows I don’t know how you don’t. Tyler Paul Seguin you idiot I’m in love with you. I want you to be the one I marry. I want my dream wedding that I would tell you about in the treehouse. I want the wedding that I would set up and have you present to marry me but I don’t want to pretend I want to marry you for real. I want to be there when you come home for a road trip and just cuddle all night till we fall asleep in each other's arms. I want to grow old with you. I want-“ She was talking too much so I went up to her and grabbed her face and kissed her. I have waited years to kiss her and it was worth the wait.

“I love you Y/N. I have been in love with you.”

“What took you so long?” She asked me.

“I didn’t think you felt the same way.”

[crushedbyhyperbole]

Makin’ Whoopee

Summary:  The Sugardrops are in need of a pianist, and who better to fill the role than newly-minted 18yr old Bucky Barnes.  The charismatic front lady known as Sugar gives him an opportunity he can’t refuse, in exchange for something precious; his innocence.

Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x OFC

Word Count:  5.5k

Warnings:  18+.  Mentions of the state of racial relations synonymous with the 1940s, injury that’s speculated to be related to hate crime, plenty of flirting and smut at the end.

A/N:  One shot written for @the-omni-princess​‘s 1k follower writing challenge filling the prompt of Band AU.  Congrats on the milestone your majesty, and thank you for letting me take part :)  The character of Sugar is styled after Mae West with the looks of Rita Hayworth, Nick is based on comic book Nick Fury rather than Samuel.L. and the encore song is performed like Michelle Pfeiffer in The Fabulous Baker Boys.  Enjoy!

Cassidy’s Bar.  He’s only ever been in here once, when his cousin Nora had gotten married to that rat-faced asshole, Billy?  Bobby?  Barry? It was something ending in ‘y’, anyway, and that’s exactly what his Ma had said; why?

Turned out the why was babies and the who was Mr Rat-face and the when was, well, so far before the question of marriage that poor Nora was round on her wedding day.

They had the same seats at the bar, Bucky thinks, him and his uncle Tony.  One beer was all he was allowed the first time, but tonight, uncle Tony is on a mission.

“Happy Birthday, kid.” The older man clinks his glass against the one warming in Bucky’s grasp, a man’s amber fire to the boy’s weak beer. “Drink up and I’ll get you another before the band starts.”

Gulping the bitter draught down, Bucky feels it warm his guts, loosening knots inside him he didn’t even know were there.  It’s his third pint, and though he’s had beer at home, he’s never had more than one in a bar where the dim lights and choking smoke are making him feel woozier than the drink.  He’s never felt like one of the men and never thought of himself as one, not even now.

Whoops and whistles. That’s how you know there’s a dame on the stage.  She’s pretty, too, Bucky thinks, watching her slink over to the manager in a dress made of green satin and what looks like liquid suns dripping from her shoulders.  It’s much too classy for a place like this and Bucky wonders if she’s some Hollywood starlet fallen from grace with her auburn waves and lips as red as victory.

Stunning.  He’s changed his mind, there’s nothing pretty about her.  She’s sexy as sin and all the men know it, hell, even she knows it.

Tony is already pushing another drink into his hand as he leads Bucky to a table by the stage, a smaller glass that tinkles as he walks.  One sip and Bucky thinks the beer is better, this stuff burns as it evaporates off his tongue.

“Looks like we got ourselves a problem.”  The starlets voice is smooth and sultry, if a little husky.  “Sammy can’t play.  It’s his hand, see.”

Her dark-skinned companion is nursing a busted hand that looks far worse than just bloodied knuckles from a fight.  If Bucky didn’t know better he’d have said the man met with a car door, a hammer, or a vicious bootheel; integrated bands are something of a controversy, hell, integrated anything is.

“Great, just great!” The bar manager groans.  “So what am I supposed to do about it?  Can’t you do without him, sugar lips?”  The bar manager is a beast of a man; jaw like a tank and shoulders to match, buzz-cut that’s a remnant from military service and an eye-patch that lends nothing but intimidation to his demeanour.

“Gee, I dunno, Nick!” One hand fists against the sassy cock of her hip, she lets rip with the sarcasm.  “Can a piano do without its pianist?”

Nick scoffs wordlessly, chewing the end of his cigar.

“A girl needs a good ivory pounder.”  She says with a wink, her tone suggestive enough to make Nick’s ears turn red. “Sam’s my best guy.”

“He ain’t poundin’ nuthin’ for a while.”

“More’s the pity.” She sidles up to him seductively, there is nothing subtle about her play, even Bucky can see she’s trying to manipulate the man.  “You got any hidden talent around here you been keepin’ from me?”

In the moments between her wink and the soft glide of her hand down the front of his shirt, Nick’s face turns pink, then red, and he’s choking on smoke.

“Help a girl out?”  A tempting pout and the flutter of eyelashes punctuate her request.

“I’ll ask around.”  He says with a tight smile as the starlet turns with a sway of her hip and sashays away.

The gents in the lounge are rowdy now, after catching a glimpse of the much-anticipated leading lady. The call for attention is barely heard but word passes between the tables that they’re asking for a pianist.

“You should get yourself up there.”  Uncle Tony nudges Bucky with his elbow, an almost proud look on his face.

“Play piano in front of all these people?”  Bucky has never been the nervous type, but he is now.  He’s only ever played the piano for the family at home, and the teachers and pupils at the music school.

“Sure, kid!”  Tony claps him on the shoulder.  “You’re as good as any of ‘em.”

“I dunno, uncle Tony.” Bucky sinks down in his seat, almost sensing what’s coming next.

“Hey!”  Tony is on his feet, waving to the hefty bar manager. “I got a pianist!”

There’s laughter all around, because Tony sounds like he just said ‘penis’, and that makes Bucky even more mortified when Nick is suddenly stood in front of them.

“You play?”  Nick is gruff and down to business.

“My nephew.”  Tony hits Bucky on the arm with the back of his hand, a gesture that says ‘sit up straight’.

“How old are you, kid?” Narrowed eyes scrutinise, and Bucky blanches.  He’s old enough to be in here but he feels so out of place he still doubts he belongs.

“Eighteen today, sir.” Bucky steels himself.  He’s not going to be this nervous kid.  He’s Bucky Barnes, confident and charming, and most definitely not intimidated by a piano, a beautiful redhead and a burly bar manager (eye-patch or not).  At least that’s who he wants to be.

“And you play?”

Bucky nods.

“Come with me.”

Tony is stuffing the tumbler into his hand again and pushing him out of his seat towards the stage with a cheer.  There’s a bit of shuffling as Bucky finds his stride.  Chairs scrape out of the way as he passes and it feels like he’s walking the plank; shark infested waters are all around him, the men sneer a little at the sight of him, just a boy, being lead backstage where the starlet and her band are getting ready.

Backstage isn’t as glamourous as Bucky thought it would be.  The reception room is dingy and cramped, merely a glorified store room compared to the plush furnishings and flattering lighting that he imagined. Eight sets of eyes turn to stare at him as he enters behind the mountainous Nick.  He’s intimidated and starting to sweat but that’s the least of his worries when a swathe of red hair and green satin is invading his personal space.

She looks him up and down with a sly smirk.

“I know I like ‘em young, but I’m not one for wet nursing.”  It’s salacious, the tone she uses, almost like she’s purposefully trying to ruffle feathers.

“He’s not for your boudoir, Sugar, he’s for the piano.”

“Oh, why not?”  She winks subtly, pulling her lips into a playful smile.  “A man in the boudoir is worth two on the street.”

“Sugar…”  Another redhead chastises.  She’s older but there’s a resemblance, sisters, maybe cousins.

“Oh, alright, spoil my fun.” Sugar plucks the drink from Bucky’s hand, fingertips brushing lightly against him leaving a trail of goosebumps coursing up his arm.  Her eyes never leave his as she lifts the glass to her painted lips and sips.  “I always get what I want, eventually.”

She’s turning away from him and his glass is back in his hand like it never left, save for the scarlet red print that perfectly resembles the fullness of her lower lip. Bucky swallows.  She’s a dangerous woman and he knows she can chew him up and spit him out in ruins, but hell if he’s not willing to let her do it.

“Sam’s the name.”  The dark-skinned fellow interrupts, introducing himself and offering his uninjured hand to shake.  His injuries are hidden by off-white crepe and gauze now, out of sight out of mind for the rest of the band.

“James.”  Bucky clears his throat.  “James Barnes.  But my friend’s call me Bucky.”

“You read music, James Barnes?”  ‘Sugar’ levels a torturously flirtatious glance over her bejewelled shoulder. Everything about her screams seduction and sexuality; she’s unashamedly feminine but predatory like no woman he’s ever seen.

“Yes, ma’am.  I do.”  Bucky battles his nerves.  “And I can play by heart.”

Sugar turns, a slow blink fanning her long lashes against her rosy cheek before she’s dragging her eyes up his body.  “Show me.”

In the corner of the room is a busted upright piano that is much in need of repair.  It’s older than his grandpa’s but the keys are clean and it looks to work.

“You want me to play here?” He should have known there would be an audition.

“Scared to show us the goods, kid?”  And older gentleman with dark curly hair shifts in his seat, his hands are large and his fingers thick and calloused.  He isn’t stocky but he isn’t a beanpole either, and he’s got a nervous tick, just below his right eye which tells Bucky the man has a temper.

“Bruce is right.” Sugar purred, leaning closer.  “An ounce of performance is worth pounds of promise.”  Moist pinkness pokes playfully at the corner of her perfectly pained mouth, the teasing tip of her tongue then sweeps her upper lip deliciously.

Bucky jumps into action, if only to distance himself from the sight and scent of the woman who seems hell bend on turning him into a mess of jangling nerves and tight trousers.

The stool is hard but the perfect height.  Bucky runs his fingers over the keys, rippling out scales to test the instrument’s tuning.  His music school diploma kicking in as he opens the booklet of sheet music at the first page.

It’s a tense moment as he starts to play, finding that some of the music has been amended in a chicken-scratch scrawl, little finesses added here and there and a different tempo, but Bucky knows the song.  He bangs out Puttin’ on the Ritz, relaxing into the music as a tall mousy-blonde man in his late twenties, sits by the piano and taps out a percussion rhythm on the wood, and the older redhead starts to sing along.  Her voice is quite lovely, Bucky thinks.

Sam nods approvingly but Sugar isn’t completely convinced.

“Play me something you think I’ll like.”  She says. “From the heart.”  The last words are tainted with a sigh.

Bucky thinks he knows the perfect song.  It’s more of a joke than anything, the reason it pops into his head is purely because of her salacious innuendos.  It starts off a little jerky, as he plays some of the string and trumpet parts on the piano but when the tune fully kicks in everyone is laughing, even Sugar is grinning.  The blonde picks up the beat, tapping on his legs and the side of the piano, curly-haired Bruce is humming and boom’ping in time as a bass, and a tiny blonde kid he’d never seen plays a mock trumpet.

When Sugar starts to sing ‘Makin’ Whoopee’, it’s somethin’ else.  The cadence of her voice is just like she is, rich, velvety and incredibly seductive.  She comes to sit on the stool next to Bucky, swaying and snapping her fingers along with the music.  As far as impromptu jams go it wasn’t half bad, and the mood is suddenly lighter when the song is done.

“Well, aren’t you full of surprises, James Barnes.”  Sugar adjusts a piece of his hair that has fallen out of his smoothly combed do.

“It’s just Bucky.”  He sighs bashfully, almost melting at her proximity.  Red lacquered nails and glistening red lips, soft cascading waves of copper leading his eyes down from her face to the sweetheart line of her dress and a scandalously deep cleavage he has no business staring at.

Suddenly he’s being pulled to his feet and introduced to the rest of the band.  Peter is the percussionist, he’s easy-going and a bit of a joker.  The little guy is Steve, he’s the trumpet player but, like Bucky, he can play a few instruments, just not the piano.  Bruce plays the double bass.  The older redhead is Natasha, she’s on backing vocals with another redhead called Wanda and yet another redhead called Gamora.  Bucky notices that Wanda and Gamora aren’t natural redheads but they all fit together so well it’s hard to notice from afar.

The lounge looks completely different from where he’s stood at the edge of the stage behind a dusty red curtain.  He can see uncle Tony drinking a pint and laughing with a guy at the adjacent table, no doubt talking about how proud he is of his nephew, god knows his daughter is a disappointment; poor Nora who got pregnant before she was married.

Bucky necks his drink. The ice has already melted but it does little to quench the burn of the whiskey, still, liquid courage eh?

Soon he’s being ushered out onto the stage with the rest of the band.  There’s a light smattering of applause and a huge cheer from uncle Tony as Bucky takes his seat at the grand piano.  Sam is there with songbooks and a list of tunes they’re going to play tonight.

“Any of these you don’t know?”  Sam hands him the paper and it shakes in Bucky’s fingers.

They’re all covers, of course, a small band can’t put out original songs in a lounge like this and earn a living.  They’re all fairly recent songs, too, keeping up with current trends.  Bucky knows them all well enough to play them by heart, but Sam likes to make notes on the sheet music to tweak the songs a little more to fit their ensemble.

Bucky scans down the list, smiling when he sees songs like Daddy, Blue Champagne, and Strange Fruit. He can imagine Sugar singing them, how wonderfully they will work with her voice.

“I think so.”  Bucky nods, confidence building through the panic because he knows he can do this.

Another glass of whiskey is set atop the piano for him and Sam is leaving with a reassuring pat on the shoulder, leaving him to stare at the crowds in the lounge, leaving him to the adrenaline and the nausea in his guts.

Suddenly there are whistles and whoops, that’s how you know the dames have hit the stage.  The three backing singers stroll on, waving and smiling brightly.  Bucky is surprised to see Wanda carrying a fiddle; she’s like him and little Steve, multi-talented.

And there’s Sugar.  He sees her before she’s clear of the side curtain.  She’s all confident strides, swaying hips and a non-too-subtle wobble at the sweetheart bodice of her dress.  He barely notices the crowd now all he can hear is the frantic thrum of his pulse whooshing in his ears.  His mouth goes dry as she makes eye contact with him and he feels as though she’s going to walk right past the microphone, right up to him, and show him what those smirking red lips can do.  

But she doesn’t, and her attention is no longer on him but on the crowd.

“Well, hello there Cassidy’s!  We are The Sugardrops!”  Christ she’s just as seductive when she addresses the whole room.  “My, my we’ve got some handsome gentlemen out there tonight, wouldn’t you agree ladies?”  She’s playing up to her girls and to the crowd.  “Tonight, for your entertainment pleasure we’re going to perform a few numbers.”

“YOU CAN PERFORM ON MY LAP, IF YOU’D LIKE!”  A drunken jeer erupts from the crowd, already the men are worked up.

Bucky glances from the dishevelled heckler to Sugar who is giving her most amused smile.

“Oh sweetheart, I’ve been in more laps than a napkin.”  She shifts her weight, popping her hip to the side.  “Yours ain’t nothing special.”

Laughter drowns out the spluttering heckler who is suddenly shoved into his seat by burly Nick, with the warning ‘behave yourself or get out’.

She’s incredible. Bucky thinks.  So confident and sassy.  He’s never seen a woman like her in his whole life.  She’s larger than life, and more alluring than a precious stone.

She clears her throat, pinning him with a stare.

Jumping to action for the second time at her request, he poises himself and waits for the trumpet to start the first song; Nice Work if You Can Get it.

Steve is good, he’s got good lungs for a scrawny kid and he blasts out an intro that’s picked up by Bruce on the double bass.  Then Bucky is joining in and Peter with the subtle snare and high-hat setting a swinging rhythm.  Sugar and the girls croon out the lyrics and Bucky finds himself joining in, bouncing on his stool with the music.

Before he knows it the song is done and he’s barely looked at the music sheet.  It all feels so natural to him, like he’s meant to be here with these people, on this stage, playing his heart out.  It’s been a while since he felt any love for music other than something to dance to, with a girl on his arm, maybe one who’ll let him kiss her at the end of the night, maybe one who’ll let him stroke his hand up to the top of her stockings.

Applause rings out and he can hear uncle Tony cheering.  There’s an exchanged grin and a proud nod from the elder man, tears in his eyes like he’s looking at his own son.  Of course, Tony only had daughters, so Bucky was special to him; a fellow man in the family.

Sugar is peppy as she sings, almost prancing around the stage, energised by the folks who are dancing on the dancefloor in front of the stage.

Hey, listen to my story, ‘bout a gal named Daisy Mae Lazy Daisy Mae Her disposition, is rather sweet and charming At times alarming, so they say

Glass empty and another replaces it, sitting in the same condensation ring that marks its predecessor; Bucky has lost count of the drinks as the songs have flown by.  The swell of emotion in his chest as he pounds or tinkles the ivories as desired, it’s almost euphoric.  So much so, he doesn’t notice Sugar sashaying his way as she sings.

She has a man who’s tall-dark-handsome, large and strong To whom she used to sing this song

She drags her fingertips up his arm as she sings, over his shoulder, neck and into his hair.  Then she spins, resting her back on his, dipping to her haunches and arching her back, earning whistles from the crown, a vicious blush from Bucky and a few fumbled notes of the tune.

Hey, Daddy, I want a diamond ring, bracelets, everything Daddy, you oughta get the best for me

Hey, Daddy, gee, don’t I look swell in sables? Clothes with Paris labels? Daddy, you oughta get the best for me

Bucky is already lost in the sway of her hips and the glistening red of her lips.  She’s singing about champagne and caviar but all he hears are the breathy moments in between the verses where she’s almost gasping for breath.

He can’t remember how many whiskey’s he’s had but he knows now it’s too many.  His skin burns and he needs air but all there is, is the rhythm of the music, the feel of the ivory under the pads of his fingers and a tightness in his groin that’s been building since she first levelled her glittering eyes at him.

Now she’s dancing around him, touching him, and teasing him with her sensuality, he’s already gone. He just prays the music comes out fine.

“You got one more song in you, sweetheart?”  Sugar is leaning over him, her lips brush the shell of his ear and her perfume permeates down into his lungs, heady and so perfect.  She’s got bare shoulders now, the bejewelled bolero jacket that was part of her dress now adorns the top of the piano with several empty glasses.

“One more song?”  He blinks up and her and she grins, stroking his face gently.  The crowd are calling for an encore and Sugar is thriving on their attention.

“Just one more.”  She assures him.  “For me?”

She doesn’t need to ask, he’s already caught in her snare, captivated by the desire in her voice and the heat in her gaze.  He doesn’t know if it’s real, but he doesn’t care.  He’s never been wanted like this by any woman, let alone one as gorgeous as her, and he’s never been so desperate to give a woman what she so clearly craves.

The rest of the band have gone back stage and it’s just the two of them out under the lights.  Bucky feels so nervous all of a sudden he could lose his dinner but when Sugar climbs up on top of the piano, legs curled to the side, he’s more concerned with avoiding the view right up her legs.

Bucky is about to ask, but when she turns to him and winks, he knows what song.

Tinkling the keys, he delves into a soft and seductive jazz melody that’s so perfect for her it’s like her soul is pouring out into the air.  Her grin is astonishing it lights her face up, stripping years off her like she’s closer to his age now instead of in her thirties.

Then she’s melting the words so they come out coy and teasing, and she’s flirting with her whole body; just enough leg, just enough cleavage, a perfectly-timed toss of her stunning red hair, and every time she says the words ‘makin’ whoopee’ his johnson twitches in his pants.  But she’s not doing it for him, she’s doing it for them, or she’s doing it for her, it really doesn’t matter who, he thinks.  She’s right there in front of him and it’s his music she’s moving to, his fingers making the notes that set her on fire, it’s him who she looks back towards and winks at subtly.

Later it’s him who she’s taking by the hand and it’s him whose lips are trailing down her neck. It’s him who is unzipping her dress and trailing his hands over her hips as he pushes the fabric to the floor.  He doesn’t know how he got here but he isn’t complaining, not one bit.

She’s a sight to behold. Her lips are swollen and smeared red where he’s messed her lipstick, and she’s panting as she strips him of his shirt. Once he’s down to his shorts, erection tenting the front, she lifts his hands to her breasts where the stiff fabric of a strapless number presses against his palms.  He stalls out, suddenly not sure what to do.  He’s never gone this far with a girl before, let alone a woman like her.

Her smirk is beguiling as she shoves him backward into a worn, ochre-coloured armchair.  His panic is momentary and he settles, sat forward, watching as she lifts her leg and with toes pressed to his chest, she pushes him back against the cushions.

The teasing way she unhooks her sheer stockings has a wet patch forming in the front of his shorts, the weeping tip of his johnson is eager.  When her legs are bare she turns, presenting him with her clothed bottom. Then she bends, oh so slowly. Dragging her knickers down, exposing herself to him.

She mustn’t know he’s untested in the boudoir (as burly Nick put it earlier in the night), or she wouldn’t be teasing him so much.  His brain is spouting words from the good book, somewhere in the depths; he’s never been one to listen but when they sound like his Ma he can’t help it.  Lead us not into temptation.

“Temptation?”  Sugar chuckles. Had he said that aloud?  “Why resist it?  There’ll always be more.”  She tosses her knickers at him and steps forward.

Straddling his lap she places his hands on her hips as she rolls her body, unclothed womanhood dragging against the hardness in his shorts.  Her bra is unhooked at the back and her perfect breasts spill forward in front of his ogling eyes.

“Touch me.”  She moans softly, spurring him into action.

Kissing his way down her neck and into the valley between her gloriously large breasts, he cups her in both hands and squeezes, rubbing his palms over her nipples until they’re hard. She guides him carefully, showing him how to pinch and play with them, not too roughly but just firmly enough to have her gasping.

“I’ve never…”  He swallows hard.  Bucky Barnes has a reputation as a man all the ladies swoon after, but he’s no match for a woman of her experience.

“I know.”  She moves against him, reaching down until her fingers reach her sex, and she’s stroking herself leisurely.  “I’ve known plenty of men who didn’t know how to please a woman.” She moans, sliding her fingers fully inside herself as Bucky watches, astonished.  “I’ve always found the time to teach every single one of them.”

She lifts her fingers to his mouth and he opens instinctively, feeling the salty sweet slide of her over his tongue.  Lips close around her and he’s drinking her taste down with a groan.  He wants to taste her again so he reaches down, strokes his fingers through the wet heat of her core, not brave enough to push them inside as she had, not yet anyway.  He smears her arousal across her nipple and brings it to his mouth, sucking and nibbling. Just like with his fingers, there��s a balance to be found in the playful bite, firm suck and soothing lick of his mouth.

Soon, Sugar is practically singing for him.  All her sassy flirtations are gone and she’s telling him what she wants.  Her nipples and lips are swollen from his attention and the front of his shorts are soaked with both his and her arousal.  The skin of her neck and chest is flushed red as she grinds against the finger he’s got buried in her womanhood.  The beckoning motion she’d shown him is making his hand ache but he’s too wrapped up in the beauty of her to care.  He’s never seen a woman orgasm before, let alone been the cause. He’s strung tight, excited beyond belief and she hasn’t even touched him yet.

Then he feels it; a tightening of the flesh around his middle finger.  She’s quivering with need, working so hard toward the release she’s desperate for.  It seems to go on forever, like she’s hanging on to the pleasure for grim death, but it’s just not enough.

Feeling bold he pulls back and gives her a second finger, pushing deeper inside her until he can feel the soft spot he was rubbing before.  Digging his fingers in harder, he braces his thumb against the hooded nubbin beneath the whispy red of her pubic hair, and squeezes.

Her wail almost stops him in his tracks but the look on her face compels him to act.  Harder this time he pulls his fingers against her, milking that sweet spot inside until he can feel the spasms start.  Her breathing is erratic and she’s gyrating in his lap, shaking and moaning as her body spasms around his hand.  It’s powerful, the way her muscles work and even when they start to die down, Bucky carries on.

“Too much.”  She stills his hand with her own.  She looks so beautiful, all flushed and satisfied. He wants her, wants to be in her, to feel with his prick what he felt with his fingers.

His mouth is on hers as he thrusts his hands under her thighs and stands.  She squeals and clings to him a moment before she realises what’s happening.  He’s about to deposit her on the floor of her dressing room when she halts him.

Bucky has never seen a condom before.  He’s heard about them; standard issue for the army to stop the soldiers from catching venereal disease, and to stop them from fathering children in every city they visit. Sugar winks as she rolls the rubber down his erection.  It feels strange and tight against his skin, and through it her hand feels less pleasurable but he moans nonetheless.

A multi-coloured crochet blanket is put down with a pillow from the armchair, and she lies back with her legs spread for him.  The reddened petals of her flower are on display and Bucky feels the urge to taste her. Of course she’s sweet, and slightly musky but less salty than when he tasted from her fingers.  Her legs twitch each time he licks past the hooded nubbin above her entrance, and he fancies that that’s the way he’s going to make her orgasm again.

And he does just that, with her hands buried in his hair and his fingers deep in her once more, pulling gently this time, he kisses and licks her until she’s shaking and moaning for him.

“I like a man who pays attention.”  She smirks as he stares up at her with a look that’s no doubt revering.  “I like a man who makes me scream even better.”

With her hand on his shoulder, she urges him forward until he’s hovering over her, afraid to lay his weight on her.  It’s with a throaty giggle that she wraps her thighs around his hips and pulls him down, reaching between them to place the tip of his throbbing prick against her heat.

“Don’t keep a girl waiting.” She slaps his bare butt cheek.  “I might go find what I need elsewhere.”

With a determined grunt, Bucky pushes into her, pushes against the resistance of her flesh, pushes into the pleasure that shoots down his prick and tightens something low between his hips.  It feels so much different than touching himself, a less intense pleasure but there’s more of it, singing to the nerves in his abdomen and all the way up into his chest.

Sugar rolls her hips, urging him to move, and with her hands on his hips and her feet hooked under his buttocks she guides his movement, drawing from him smooth deep thrusts that hit all of the right spots for her and have him seeing stars before too long.

“I can’t… keep this… up.” He grunts, slightly ashamed that he can’t last.

“It’s alright, sweetheart.” She arches her back and sighs. “I’m close.  Keep going.”

Bucky is panting heavily as the pleasure overwhelms him.  Sugar is writhing and moaning beneath him and he can feel her muscles around him start to quake.

She’s going to climax, he thinks with joy.  She’s going to climax while I’m inside her.

That’s it for him, the pulsing pleasure coursing down his spine, all around his prick and tingling over his scalp – it’s amazing.  He spills into the condom but continues to thrust into her until she’s spent.  Then and only then does he collapse forward with a disbelieving chuckle.

“This is the first time I ever known a woman like you.”  He kisses her lips but she’s already turning away, rolling him off her to get some air.

“If I have my say, it won’t be the last.”  She winks but there’s no gleam in her eye.  She lights a cigarette and falls back onto that god-awful ochre chair.

“I don’t know if I should thank you or worship you.”  Bucky notices that she seems diminished somehow, like her light has gone.

“I wouldn’t say no to both.” She’s looking up, not at him, as she blows smoke up to the ceiling.  “Are you free tomorrow night?”

“For you, yeah.”  He’s coming across eager but he doesn’t care. A lot of the effects of the whiskey are fading and he knows what he’s doing.  He wants to see her again, to feel her again.

“What about the night after that?”

“Yes.”  The condom comes free with a dull twang.

“And the one after that?”

“Sure.”  He’s pulling on his shorts.

“Next week?

“Absolutely.”  Bucky kneels in front of that horrific chair.

“Next month?”  She asks, and he knows better than to think she wants a relationship. Someone like her could never be tied down.

“I’m free whenever you want me.”  He flashes her his most charming and cheeky smile.

Her laugh is stifled behind that coy smirk she favours as she swings the leg that’s cocked over the arm of the chair.  Her naked breasts and her womanhood are unashamedly and fully on display.  Hell, if it didn’t send tingles of desire down into his gut again.

“Oh, I want your fingers alright.”

“Just my fingers?”  He flirts back.

“For the purposes of the contract, yeah sweetheart, just your fingers.”  The smoke from a long drag is blown in his direction.  “The rest can be our little secret.”

“Contract?”  Bucky balks, confusion sending a jolt to his chest.

“Yeah, sweetheart.” The gleam is back in her eyes, and her sultry smile teases the corners of her plush mouth once more.  “Welcome to The Sugardrops, James Barnes.”

[theangrypokemaniac]

Contests Part 2/2

6. Loser Jessie

Screechy harpie Jessay has even more of a raw deal than Mavis and Dawn of the Dead.

From the outset I knew she'd never be champion, but she ought to rise above the tiresome berks clogging up procedure.

Sufficient popularity at Pokémon Towers ensured the girls were allotted coverage of all their award ceremonies. They had a moment in the sun.

What has Jessie in comparison?

I can't recall Hoenn, but I don't expect it was much.

Sinnoh however carried naught but a single paltry episode.

This for a main character.

This for someone there from the beginning.

This for an ardent fan favourite.

This for a wench who, should we include all her various mutations, has featured in more installments than either of 'em.

But no, treat Jesseee as worthless, even lower than Dawn's groupies. It's not like anyone watches it for her.

Looking back, it's obvious what they were intending to do come Unova.

What's the score then?

• One paltry Contest on screen.

• A couple happen elsewhere, marked by a few seconds per mention when the script oh-so generously moves away from the thrilling main plot.

It's gotta be the small-town concerns for Jessuhleenuh, nothing major. She deserves no better.

• One won by James, so not hers. Press her inadequacy upon us!

• One obtained as a gesture of pity from Kate Middleton.

And how did that work? What's the good of allowing 'Dawn' entry again?

She'd already qualified. If winning here, that gives her six, therefore there aren't enough Co-ordinators for the culmination.

And when Jessie showed up with a Ribbon recorded as belonging to Dawn, how was she taken as fulfilling the quota?

The slapdash way these Contests are run!

God forbid Jess should be shown as excelling at anything. It must be scraping into the final undeservedly.

Bitch gotta know her place.

7. Bumpkin Jessie

...

Ain't no description I can give that don't rhyme with 'hit', or variations of the theme.

You thought the shafting Jessica got coverage wise was bad enough? Yer ain't heard the 'alf of it.

Sinnoh was a period of peak Moron Team Rocket, where the one surprise was how stupid they could be.

You may remember an early episode when James designed her clothes for the catwalk. She thought it'd complement his work by applying lipstick all across her mug.

Obviously Jessie would do that, clueless as to how make-up functions.

Come on kids, she's thick!

Even at that numskull nadir it's difficult to comprehend anyone choosing this get up without severe duress.

Picture the scene: you debut on stage, before an audience of thousands and television cameras, in an event preoccupied with superficiality.

What do you wear?

• Giant, oversized glasses out of fashion since the Seventies.

• Bootlace tie last worn in the nineteenth century Wild West by a barman serving sarsaparillas.

• Colour scheme of brown and orange, the nation's favourite hues.

• A man's old shirt fraying at the cuffs.

• Voluminous apron dress.

• Massive yellow bows last seen decorating an Easter Egg. Always a winner.

• Heavy, clod-hopping boots.

• PIGTAILS!!!

Even the name is unattractive.

Ah yes, very common for those under six. Unheard of later.

You have reached puberty haven't yer Jessie? I can't tell anymore.

They couldn't get enough of that combination in Cosmo, which is why it's no longer in print.

Not only is Jessie denied success, she's deprived of the chance to be pretty in a realm where nothing but that carries weight.

Worse, given how her face disintegrated, this is the best she's been for five generations.

Yeah, because the inbred milkmaid style is such a good look, eh?

SEXAY!!!

8. So Long, Tsundere

Remember tsunderes? What happened to 'em?

The curse of Pokémon was draining the well of inspiration too quickly, throwing away interesting characters as mere guests.

This is particularly noticeable regarding the ladies. Back then, we got Misty, Jessie, Jessibelle, Cassidy, Aya, Giselle, Tyra, Sabrina, assorted crones Brutella, Nastina and Lacy, plus Joy, Jenny and Dame Ketchum provided parental authority.

How did a series that began with ball-breaking birds like that end up with insipid, glassy-eyed dullards like Zuhreena, Banana Lana, Marsh Mallow and Lilliput?

Ooh, Zuhreena is a pwincess!

Ooh, Banana Lana bwows big bwubbles!

Ooh, Marsh Mallow wuvs phallic waddishes!

Ooh, Lilliput won't pwet wanimals bwecause of Secwet Pain!

Can you imagine such weak specimens finding any place in the anarchic atmosphere of the classics?

It's SO boring!

Where's the punch? Where's the human spirit?

Where's the entertainment gone?

This squishy attitude began in Hoenn. Misty left, Jessie's hair symbolically changed from volcanic red to pink, and Contests introduced a cuddly theme where glitter glue and sequins are top priority.

Every sharp corner, every jagged point has been filed smooth. Now its substance hasn't the hardness to even develop edges, not when it's all cushions and candyfloss, where catching Pokémon rests on them deigning to grant permission, rather than 'avin it out.

Tsunderes, exuding untamed charisma and independence, besides a soupçon of danger, simply don't fit the cardboard box we habit now.

Nor do yanderes, kuuderes, tsuntsuns, or even derederes. It's just nothing but smiley-smiley creeps.

I wouldn't mind any of these tropes as long as there was some sign of colour to be had.

9. The Sacrifice of Misty

Misty bid farewell under the feeble justification that the lack of a longterm goal made her vulnerable to sacking.

Such a line uttered as if her own choice, being beyond them as writers to invent a purpose.

This implied her replacement would have an exciting quest aiming for excellence, something just beyond Misty's capabilities.

What did we get?

Dressing up and collecting Ribbons!

Is that...is that it? Is that the great idea? Is that all the girls are worth?

I lost Misty for THIS?!

Perhaps it makes no difference. By Hoenn they'd rendered her a leaden blandness sucked dry of all that made her special.

Going by the greasy-toothed bastardisation that swanned up in Alola, Misty was simply too wild for the safe, stifling atmosphere of today.

Her departure ensued she remains frozen as a funny, beloved presence, unlike those she left behind.

Now there was a lucky escape, as once the fanny-flapping starts, the bints have it on the brain.

May had Max to beat on the side, but Dawn developed monomania.

Hardly an episode went by without some reference to Contests, or how today's plot spurred her on to the next opportunity.

Yer need help, love!

Rather than Ash's new friend being a fascinating person who so happened to enter vanity projects, the competition defined them to the exclusion of life.

It is but moths drawn to the candle flame waiting to engulf them.

Contests are this world's version of Tom Riddle's diary: they promise sympathy and validation, but they eat your soul.

Like Tumblr.

10. Completely Unoriginal

Seems to me it wasn't so much Misty had no goal, it was more that Contests were the supposedly hot concept wedged into an existing property.

If earlier aspects failed to accommodate the invader, the onus certainly wasn't on the new kid to change. Oh no, stuff it in and chop off whatever gets in the way.

In the eyes of the post-Shudo regime, Misty was too volatile to last, and so had to go.

What idiots.

She's a tsundere. The softer, more feminine side is a defining component.

Would it really have been so problematic to retain her as an entrant? If Jessie can, why not?

Even if failing to fit, so what? Since when was established characterisation a barrier?

Isn't twisting likeable folk into unrecognisable pods the modus operandi of the writers?

That canon is immaterial, and must always give in to whatever fancy they currently have?

Well then, what's the big deal in infantilising Misty to promote it rather than pensioning her off?

Viewers will be more invested in the challenges awaiting a familiar face rather than a stranger.

What reduces the above to the risible is the original Misty and Jessie both participated in the Princess Festival.

All Contests are is that very scenario on repeat and robbed of all meaning.

Think about it:

• Beauty round

• Battle round

• Jessie loses

Same bloody thing.

Not only have I got to suffer this draining spectacle, it's got the nerve to possess not one iota of fresh ideas!

Contests are a low rent rip-off. The Princess Festival had a worthy reward in the shape of one-of-a-kind Dolls.

It'd already been revealed that ordinary Princess Dolls were ruinously expensive, therefore the special Pokémon edition have to be priceless.

What d'yer get for the trouble of a Contest but a bit of plastic tat taped to bargain basement frippery?

And they demand you get five of 'em!

Contests themselves were then resurrected as Showcases, although mercifully slimmed down to only three, with the emptiness ramped up in compensation.

Perhaps ironically, Princess Versus Princess is one of my favourite episodes. I love its critique of female avarice and accurate portrayal of clothing sales as reminiscent of the zombie apocalypse.

I don't mind the Festival as a single adventure, but I may have felt less favourable had it been a constant presence.

Except it isn't the competition at stake. This is a framework to explore Jessie and Misty as people.

Through its device we learn their history and therefore how they came to develop as the girls we know.

The setting serves as an opportunity for both to confront the misery and isolation of their childhoods, with the promise of overcoming that old torment with the balm of victory.

In the final, they aren't so much battling an opponent as fighting to be free of the past.

The tragedy is only one can be granted that reprieve. The other must remain unhappy in the ruins of memory.

It matters, unlike vapid Contests, where posturing is king. What depth can they provide in comparison?

Despite identical content, they are inverse counterparts, with the Festival presented as merely a light affair concealing a rather dark tale of neglect.

Contests however are paraded as this worthy nourishment for body and mind, a major point in one's journey towards enlightenment, when all they really amount to is an organ grinder and his monkey arsing about for the slack-gobbed plebs.

Bread and circuses.

Best of all, Misty won, not some side twat, as it should be.

Note how Jessie dressed: in delicate, vivid robes and golden decoration. The boys thought her beautiful.

Not as a gormless dweeb you'd cross the street to avoid!

And why the need to disguise herself anyway?

The Twerps had no issue with Jessie of Team Rocket joining the fun back then, so what happened?

At least she received the consolation of gaining Lickitung as a friend, with James and Meowth desperate to comfort her.

What do Contests bring? Sod all!

[theotherteamrocket]

Silver Linings - Chapter 1

Posting the first chapter of my fanfic, Silver Linings.

A Team Rocket grunt crosses Domino in a training exercise and sets off a chain of events that will change her life forever. She finds herself going to extreme lengths to keep her partner pokemon, becoming intertwined with her eccentric coworkers along the way.

Silver Linings 

Chapter 1

The cafeteria was busy as usual. A tired looking, brown haired Team Rocket grunt squeezed through two other people and searched the room, finally laying her eyes on a vacant table. Her food was already cold, but she didn’t care. She sat her tray down at the end of the table. At the very same time, two other trays came down at the opposite end.

“Well, well, well.” It was a familiar voice. She knew who it was before she even looked up. It was the unmistakable rasp of Butch. He and Cassidy sat down at the other end of the table.

“If it isn’t the flavor of the week.” He laughed. “We were just talking about you.”

“Along with everyone else on the team.” Cassidy flipped one of her long, blonde pigtails over her shoulder and slid down beside the other girl as she lowered herself onto the bench. “Butch, take my picture with her and post it on our page.”

She flashed a peace sign and smiled wide. Ria smiled, too, but it felt as fake as her interest in talking to them right then. Still, as friendly as she was with Butch and Cassidy from having worked with them numerous times, they both outranked her and she wasn’t about to blow them off.

“I guess you saw the video.”

“Saw it?” Cassidy asked. “Butch was the one who filmed it!”

Ria blinked as she processed what Cassidy as said, before standing and pointing an accusatory finger at her green haired colleague.

“That was you!?”

“Calm down, calm down.” She glowered at him from beneath the brim of her cap and sat back down as he continued. “I made you famous. You should thank me. You should see how many likes this thing has on Rocketbook.”

Ria sat back down. He slid his phone over to her and she looked at it warily. Since members of Team Rocket were barred from posting any of their information or photos online due to it being a security concern, Giovanni’s recent initiative to provide a social networking platform exclusively for Team Rocket members had been a hugely popular success. In light of recent events, however, Ria couldn’t say that she was a fan. She wasn’t particularly interested in re-living the battle, but the two of them were already standing on either side of her watching the replay of her earlier training exercise with Domino.

“Heh heh. Check out that excellent camera work.”

“Be quiet Butch, this is my favorite part.”

The three of them looked on as Houndour started to glow and change shape, becoming a Houndoom. Butch and Cassidy laughed as Domino’s Roserade fell almost immediately to its attack.

“Look at her face!” Butch cackled. “It’s like you didn’t even care that the flamethrower would be overkill.”

“I didn’t ask Houndoom to use Flamethrower.” Ria said quietly. “ It just…happened.”

She rubbed the back of her head. She was still in shock from its evolution when it all happened, and it happened so quickly. Had it been up to her, she probably would have stopped the battle altogether. It had just been a training exercise, after all, and although she had been volun-told to do it, had she known how things were going to turn out she would have surely found a way to get out of it.

“Well, either way, it was hilarious.” Butch said around a mouthful of French fries.

“I don’t think Domino felt the same way.”

“Oh, please.” Cassidy rolled her eyes. “She got cocky, she wanted to humiliate someone that had a type advantage over her to make herself look like a better trainer. She picks on spineless grunts like you all the time, no offense, knowing that you don’t have the backbone to actually defeat her even if you wanted to.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Guess she wasn’t counting on that mutt of yours having a mind of its own.” Her partner chuckled. Ria sighed as Cassidy continued. She’d never had a problem with Houndour listening to her before it evolved.

“If you ask me, that little witch had it coming. That bleach job alone should be a felony.”

Behind Cassidy, almost as if she’d been summoned from Hell by the mention of her name, Ria saw Domino approaching the table. She had a sly smirk on her face and it was apparent she was up to something. 

“Uh, Cassidy-“ Ria tried to interject when she saw the other blonde heading in their direction. Although Domino was technically the same rank as Cassidy and Butch, her relationship with Giovanni carried a lot of extra weight outside of the usual chain of command. Butch and Cassidy liked to tell anyone who would listen that they were the Boss’s favorites, but it was no secret that the title actually belonged to Domino.

“ -if only Houndoom had missed Roserade entirely.”

“Cassidy,” Butch also tried to intervene, but there was no stopping her at this point.

“HQ has been a much better place now that that spoiled brat has been taken down a peg.”

“Oh, and what spoiled brat are we talking about, exactly?”

Cassidy froze and, finally, turned to see Domino standing behind her.

“Domino!” She stammered. “Oh, you know…eh…”

“Actually, it’s no one that you would know at all!” Butch stepped in for the save. “Most definitely not anyone at this table or in the immediate vicinity of it.”

“Absolutely not!” Cassidy added.

“Well, feel free to carry on,” the blonde said, looking down at the lowest ranking member at the table. “I’m just here to see my good friend Ria on some urgent work business.”

“Work business?” Ria asked, suspiciously. She had expected some kind of retaliation, sure, but in the form of extra work detail or being sent on a field assignment in an undesirable location. The possibility of a face to face confrontation hadn’t even crossed her mind. Domino pulled a brown envelope from behind her back and handed it to her. She started to open it and Butch and Cassidy again leaned over her shoulder.

“Do you mind?” She muttered. Neither of them budged. She continued to open it carefully. Domino tapped her finger impatiently until she could no longer contain herself.

“You’re being audited!” She exclaimed, in a sing-song voice.

“What?!” Ria stood up in her chair, clutching the piece of paper so hard the edges wrinkled. Her eyes darted over the wording again and again, trying to make sure what she was reading was correct. It was an official order, and it had been signed by the Boss himself.

“Had to do it, Ria.” Domino’s remorse sounded more like sarcasm and Ria bristled at the sound of her voice. “It’s my duty as an officer to make sure everyone follows the rules, so I really had no choice. We both know that a grunt like yourself shouldn’t be able to defeat an officer like me in battle. The Boss would just be so disappointed if any officer witnessed something like that and didn’t report it.” 

She glared at Butch and Cassidy who looked at each other sheepishly.

“You didn’t have to do it.”

“Now, now, you know as well as I do Rockets are only allowed to keep pokemon up to a certain level, depending on their rank of course. This may be a criminal organization, but we have rules for a reason and those rules apply to everyone, even me. But listen,” Domino leaned in, “I’ll tell you what. I’m in a really good mood. I know you’re about to leave on an assignment, so we can wait to do this until you get back. That’ll give you time to say your goodbyes to Houndoom. Don’t worry…once we retrain it, I’ll take really good care of it.”

Domino walked away seeming satisfied with herself. 

“Thanks a lot.” Ria said, fighting the urge to smack Butch across the face with the lunch tray. “ She wouldn’t be half as mad at me if everyone hadn’t seen what happened on video.”

“Hey, there were plenty of people at that training who saw it first hand. That would have put her on a warpath with you anyway.” Butch defended himself.

“You guys are officers.” Ria pleaded. “You have to tell me, is there anything I can possibly do to get out of this?”

“There’s no way.” Cassidy was blunt in her reply. “Team Rocket is and always has been very strict about adhering to these audits, ever since…you know.”

“The incident.” Butch said with air quotes.

“What even happened, anyway? I was just a kid. My father was a part of Team Rocket at the time, and I remember hearing about it, but I didn’t really pay much attention. I…had a lot going on then.”

Ria ran her finger around the edge of her drink can. She was aware of ‘the incident’, as Butch called it, but it had occurred right around the same time her father had passed away, so she hadn’t paid it any mind. 

“We weren’t there either, but the story goes an Elite agent decided he wanted out of Team Rocket.” Butch explained.

“Obviously they told him no.” Cassidy added.

“Right.” He continued. “So the guy just skips out one night. Makes a run for it. When the Boss finally finds out, he’s furious. Puts a BOLO on this guy, pretty much has the whole team after him.”

“A manhunt.” His partner echoed.

“When they finally tracked him down, I hear it was a bloodbath. This guy was a real hotshot trainer, there was talk he coulda made it into the Elite Four if he wasn’t a Rocket. His pokemon were really powerful and your typical Team Rocket issued field trash was no match for it.”

Cassidy narrowed her eyes at him when he said this. It was a well-known fact that Raticate was her favorite pokemon, and Ria assumed this was why she seemed to resent that remark.

“They say it took almost 50 men to finally take him out, and he didn’t survive.”

“Giovanni never wanted to have to deal with that again, which is why he put this policy into place where Rockets are only allowed to have pokemon up to a certain level. When any pokemon exceeds the level cap for their trainer’s rank, that pokemon becomes the property of Team Rocket. They’re sent off to the breeding center to be re-trained, and they’re either assigned to an officer or put into the reserves if they’re needed later.”

“Wait! I have an idea! You guys can have higher leveled pokemon than I can. Cassidy, what if you take Houndoom for a while?” 

“Are you insane? That thing is public enemy number one right now.” She scoffed. “I’m not about to put a target on my back for Domino.”

Ria sighed. She pulled out Houndoom’s poke ball and looked at it. 

“It just doesn’t seem fair.”

“Well, them’s the rules.” Butch said, matter-of-factly. He and Cassidy stood to collect their trays. “ It’s all in your employment contract, so there’s really nothing you can do.”

“My recommendation would be to just use the Team Rocket issued pokemon from now on. It’s what Butch and I do. They’ll send you a new one every few months. Even if you’re out in the field, Delibird brings it to you.”

“It’s kinda like a subscription service.” Butch added. “They’re tailored to the kind of work you’ll be doing, too. It’s neat.”

“Catching your own pokemon is allowed, sure, but you get attached and eventually you have to either hand them over to Team Rocket or set them free. The only other people I know of who actually do that are those losers Jessie and James. This is a really good example of why it’s just not a good idea.” 

“Sorry kid.” Butch offered before he and Cassidy headed toward the exit. “That’s a real tough break. Here! You can have the rest of my fries.”

“…thanks.”

“French fries? Really?” She heard Cassidy hiss at him as they walked away.

“Well they always make me feel better after a bad day.”

Ria sighed as their voices trailed off and stared sadly at her lunch tray, which now overflowed with the addition of Butch’s leftovers. The fries actually were good here. Unfortunately, she had completely lost her appetite.

[whoareyouandwhyshouldicare]

To all my fellow LoVe shippers who are feeling down I have one thing to say.

I can’t make the last 8 minute of season 4 disappear but I can recommend some really great LoVe fanfiction that will make you feel at least a little bit better. So without further ado here are a few of my favorite LoVe fics!

A Hard Habit to Break  by  mskatej   Nothing gets Veronica over her failed relationships better than Logan Echolls.    

...And Long For You  by  AbsolutelyIris It was moments like those Veronica wished she could be like Lilly- storm into his house and curse and yell and damn him to hell before demanding he fuck her...and like with Lilly, he would gladly, if reluctantly, do so.      

 “Any Love Is Good Love, Baby”  by wily_one24   Apparently, Hollywood was wrong, the devil did not wear Prada, the devil wore butch black boots and tiny little skirts.                                

The Best (and Only) Kept Secret in Neptune  by  vixleonard Even when they hated each other, Logan and Veronica just couldn't stay away from each other.                     

The Burdened Vessel  by  vixleonard   Veronica needs a favor only Logan can help her with.              

Every Belt That Ever Hit Someone (Is Still Made to Hold Something Up)  by igrockspock   Logan doesn't get any votes for Most Changed at the ten-year reunion, which is bullshit when you think about it.  In the past ten  years, everything in his life has changed.  He's joined the Navy, dated a pop star, and figured out that Dick Casablancas can occasionally behave like a real human being.  Only one thing hasn't changed: he's still in love with Veronica Mars.  Oh, and he's suspected of murdering his girlfriend.

"Fear and Loathing in Neptune"   by wily_one24 Veronica Mars was going to get herself laid. Series  Part 1 of Any Love  

A Fine and Endless Cycle  by kartography A freshman year at Hearst and the cyclical nature of love                                         

Fireworks by AliLamba Veronica is technically not a virgin, and awkward results ensue. An AU version of LoVe's first time.                

For the Sake of a Friend by jacedesbff   What if Logan and Veronica were involved in a secret relationship throughout the events of Season 1?     

The Game of Trust  by Kantayra of Yore (Kantayra)   This time Veronica really did trust him, and she knew how to prove it...    

Getcha, Getcha, Getcha, Getcha  by  Kantayra of Yore (Kantayra) Veronica and Logan prank each other. Really, it's shameless the way they flirt...  

Give Me The Ocean  by scandalpants   Post Season 3 AU.  Veronica decides what she really wants.  Spoiler: it's not Piz.                                              

Home Is Where The Heart Is by: lv63   AU preseries and forward, begins in season 1. this story is all about veronica and her friends. angst, mystery, humor and romance, LoVe and MaDi. summary in prologue. 

I Hate You Because by: SilverLining2k6   Mid 1X3 - Meet John Smith.    Logan, Veronica, a pool, snark, and a made up drinking game.

i knew you were trouble when you walked in  by youcallitwinter   And, it's just—  Logan had always been her intense high-school romance, sure. But she had, somewhere along the way, in some secret corner of her mind, convinced herself that was all he was; a high-school romance. Explosive, powerful, passionate, and bound to burn itself out eventually

(Im)Perfection  by  AbsolutelyIris The only real mistake is the one from which we learn nothing.                

In a World by: my shangri-la   A/U! Exploring the 'what ifs' that could have happened if Lilly Kane hadn't been murdered, and her secrets – and others – had come out anyway. Pairings: Lilly/Logan, past Duncan/Veronica, eventual Logan/Veronica. (Story begins with Lilly as a senior, the rest are juniors.)

In the kind of world where we belong  by  Anonymous  There was always something missing.  A Lilly Kane sized hole in both their hearts.  Instead of going to see Aaron Echolls on October 3rd Lilly decides to comfort a friend and their lives change forever.A very smutty OT3 take on what might have happened if Lilly had lived.

Kid Things  by sowell   5 years after graduation, Logan comes back to Neptune to ask Veronica for help.                      

King of Mars  by: HGRising   AU. In which everyone has a story to tell but not everyone gets the chance. And, things make more sense from a different perspective. Ever wonder why Veronica Mars was Lilly Kane's best friend? There's redemption for some and condemnation for others when the secrets come out. And everyone's got a good one.

Landmine  by  AbsolutelyIris It needed to be forgotten, and quick.             

The Long Way Home  by  AbsolutelyIris   "We should take the long way home." 

Matching Pink Bikinis  by  Anonymous Veronica and Lilly wear matching pink bikinis to Logan's for a pool day.  This is pure threesome smut, folks.                

Pink Lemonade (Logan/Veronica/Lilly)  On a trip to Honolulu, Lilly manages to bring Veronica out of her pink, frosty shell. Spoilers/Warnings: This is a threesome fic and therefore includes some femslash.        

Playing Hide and Seek With the Truth by: jenwin23   Continuation of the Truth series. The kids go back to school. Old issues remain while more secrets will be revealed, relationships will change and lives will crumble.

The Real Thing by: Josielynn   AU. Logan and Lilly are off again/on again. Duncan is dating Meg. Veronica was never friends with Lilly. Logan sees Veronica in her soccer uniform and wants to date her.

Scotch on the Rocks (A FanFic Tribute)  by kmd0107   A long time ago...there was an incredibly hot LoVeLy trilogy fic (Pink Lemonade & Sex on the Beach) started over on Live Journal that never got its third part.  This is a tribute to what that might have been.   Logan POV of the evolving sexual and emotional relationship between himself, Veronica, and Lilly.              

Scourging Fire, Blazing Soul  by Nerdyesque   What if Veronica didn't grow up with the 09ers, but came into their lives prior to Lilly's death? How would her presence affect Duncan, Lilly, Logan, the Kanes, and the Echolls? Also, who is Veronica without Keith Mars' loving protection?      

Sex on the Beach (Logan/Veronica/Lilly) NC-17 Lilly's chapter in my Drinks Series. Nobody wants to talk about what happened in Hawaii, and it's driving Lilly crazy. How could she possibly make what happened less awkward? By making it happen again, of course!        

Some Truths Hurt by: jenwin23 Jumping off point: V gets Duncan's journal in Echolls' Family Xmas. AU from there but many canon events happen too. All characters in the VM-verse make an appearance, but it is a LoVe story. In script format-but give it a try, it's well written.

The Third Kane by: Mac-alicious   Lilly, Duncan and Veronica Kane rule the social scene in Neptune. The three are loyal and inseparable. They once believed there was nothing that could come between them. They didn't count on Logan Echolls.

Time, Make It Go Faster Or Just Rewind  by  kmd0107  Logan being ‘the real-Logan’ is so familiar that she almost can’t help but give in to it, even if it’s just a one night pass.   She’ll embrace this moment out of time and the walls and armor can go back up tomorrow.AU from 1x4 Wrath of Con              

Truths Too Big to be Told  by: jenwin23 Sequel to Some Truths Hurt. It's summer time and more than the weather is hot. Neptune is embroiled in class warfare, Veronica is looking into the mystery of another dead girl, the fallout from Lilly's case continues, and more secrets will be revealed.

I’m also throwing in some of my favorite MaDi (Mac and Dick) fics because Dick needs a hug too.

The ABCs of Mac and Dick by: jenwin23   The ABC challenge with Mac and Dick. Created for Madi lover at VM Santa 2010 at livejournal. Cross-posted. In letter order, not in chronological order.

Bodycount by: BIFF1   Cassidy and Mac meet a little earlier and a little blood-lust gives him an entirely different problem when it comes to forming a real relationship with Mac. AU with MAJOR season two SPOILERS! Mac/Cass, Mac/Dick, Mac/Cass/Dick

Casablancas Kryptonite By: BIFF1   "You just don't get it. She's like kryptonite or something." Dick looked at his brother and thought about those blue eyes that cut and the way her mouth twisted around insults. Yeah maybe she was kyptonite. Casablancas kyptonite because isn't he just as weak.

Casual? By: BIFF1   It's just sex. Casual sex. no attachments, just good hot sex. But that was the summer and now school is about to start up again and Veronica's back from Virginia and can tell that something is up. They can stop, no problem...

The Charm Bracelet by: DalWriter   Future Fic. Who Knew Prince Charming Would be Dick Casablancas? Mac reminisces as she looks at a charm bracelet Dick gave her.

Commitment Buffers by: BIFF1   Dick and Mac live with Logan and Veronica in their attempt to have some sort of commitment buffer between them. Only problem with the arrangement is that Mac and Dick tolerate each other at best which is a big improvement as far as their concerned. However living in such close quarters may prove difficult when it becomes obvious that they may actually sort of like each other.

Dark Day by: BIFF1   It's Cassidy Casablancas' birthday and the two people closest to him are falling apart. She just wants to hide away from the world for the rest of the week, just drink and cry and be with someone who gets it and no one gets it more than Dick. Not as angsty as it sounds, promise. Now complete with happy ending!

Electrify by: BIFF1   A guilt trip from Logan has landed Dick in a crowded tent with Mac. With a lightening storm raging outside he can't sleep and it appears neither can she.

Rendezvous by: BIFF1   A collection of one-shots. In which Dick and Mac are forced together by fate or friends and hook up. Because I apparently really like writing them hooking up.

Secret Santa By: BIFF1   Saw this homemade sweater from hell prompt from VMficRec. It's a November challenge but I couldn't help myself. Just some fun when Mac pulls Dick's name for Secret Santa. She figures a six pack and porn until he makes a big deal about not wanting anything handmade. She can't really help herself, she spends the month knitting Dick a sweater.

[nothingeverlost]

Fic: An Auspicious First Meeting (Little Miss Verse)

In which a new friend is found and the beginnings of a plan are discovered.

A/N: I’m so excited to finally add this character to this verse.

_________________-

She’s expected the library to be empty.  It usually was, during a party.  Not even the men with their cigars were so uncouth as to smoke in the library; there was always a parlor for that.  After missing a dinner party and a ball Belle had known better than to say no to another social occasion; her father, Ariel, and Mr. Aston would all be upset with her for their own reasons.  She wasn’t in the mood for the cricket game, though, and had snuck away as soon as everyone had started to make teams.  Apparently she wasn’t the only one with the plan.

“I’m sorry, mister…” She had seen the young man before, at one of the parties.  If she remembered correctly he was a friend of Eric’s, or at least seemed to arrive in town at the same time.  She tried to remember his name, but wasn’t sure she’d learned it.

“Neal.  And there’s no reason to apologize unless you’re here to fetch me for the game.  I don’t know how to play.”  There was something about his eyes that were familiar, when she looked at him more closely.  It didn’t make sense; there was nothing else familiar about him.

“I’m sure they have enough players already, Mr Neal.  I won’t tell them you’re here.”  If he didn’t want to be found then she seemed to have the reprieve she was looking for.

“Actually it’s Mr. Cassidy if you want to be formal, but I’m used to being Neal.”  He shrugged.  “I guess not knowing how to play cricket isn’t the only way I don’t fit in.  I should have known better than to say yes to Eric when he invited me to join him.  I don’t belong here.”

“You can know everything they know and live here half your life and still not belong.”  It was quiet in this part of the house.  Belle decided that despite the fact that they hadn’t been formally introduced no one would notice if she sat down and talked with him.  “Your friend must have thought you belonged.  He invited you.”

“Our plans were more of boating than balls.  There was supposed to be just the one dance, but then there was this girl he’d seen before and finally talked to, and you know how that goes.  Next thing they’re dancing and now he goes anywhere he think she might go.”

“And she goes anywhere she thinks he might.”  Belle laughed.  If only it was always that simple.  “Ariel was my roommate in school.  Was Eric yours?”

“Not hardly. We went to school together, but he was the son of the king and I was allowed to attend class as long as I was earning my keep in the kitchens.  The closest we get to being roommates is adjoining berths down below on the ship.  Eric offered me a job after school; he’s a friend but we live in different worlds.”  Neal Cassidy looked out the window where the lower lawn was barely visible.  “If I had better manners I would have asked your name already, instead of talking your ear off.”

“It’s Belle French, but I don’t mind listening.  It’s good to have someone who listens; Rum listens to me even when I say the most nonsensical things, and it always makes me feel better afterwards.”  She wasn’t sure that was true of their conversation the other night, when she’d told him of her father’s hope that she’d accept Gus’s proposal when he made it.  She’d upset him, and that was the last thing she wanted.

“Is Rum the tall one with the red coat and the pack of dogs?”  He hid it quickly but Neal didn’t seem to find Gus to his liking.

“Oh no, that’s Mr Aston.  He’s courting me, I suppose.  Rum is my father’s butler.”  It was the last way she would have chosen to define who Rum was, but she couldn’t tell a stranger that her father’s butler was also her best friend.  And something more, though she didn’t quite know what ‘more’ was.  “He’s known me since I was a girl.”

“You don’t seem to be very fond of the idea of being courted.”  There was a chessboard on one of the tables in the room.  A grand thing, nothing like the worn wood carving that was one of the many treasures in Rum’s room.  The set he’d used to teach her to play.  She wondered if it was an accident that Neal picked up the black king.

“Men are able to choose their own fate.  I wish I had the same freedom.”  She would travel, if she could.  Not all the time.  She would have a home so much cosier than a mansion, full of books and treasures collected around the world.  Perhaps Rum would agree to be her butler.  Perhaps, even better, he would live with her as a friend.  Or…

“Some men have a great deal of freedom.”  Neal set down the chess piece, not seeming to care that it wasn’t in the right square.  It lay in the middle of the board, resting on its side.  “Your Mr. Aston…”

“Not mine.”  At least not yet.  She couldn’t stay away from him for forever, and at some point he would ask her a question and expect an answer.  Her father had led him to believe that the answer would be the one he wanted.

“The ship is docked not far from here.  We could both escape.”  His grin was such a change that she found herself smiling back even as she shook her head.  He looked younger suddenly.

“I can’t leave; there are people I would miss.”  One person, more than any other.  She didn’t want to think of how Rum would feel if she went away without a word.  He fussed and worried when she was even a few minutes late.

“And I don’t suppose we would get very far with the contents of our pockets.”  Neal patted his pants, which Belle suspected didn’t hold much.  Her own bag held only a few small coins.  Her father preferred that she charged what she needed at stores, and only grumbled when it came to paying the bill at the book shop.  “We’ll have to stay.  I’m running out of excuses, though, when people ask me to dance, or to play games I’ve never seen before.”

“I could teach you.  Only if you wanted, you don’t have to know any of it, and some of it is tedious, and…”

“Why would you do that?”  He cocked his head to one side, looking at her, and again Belle was struck by the fact that he looked familiar.

“It would make Ariel happy, if she got to see Eric more.  No one would say anything if the four of us spent time together.  And I might as well do something with all the hours I had to spend learning the dances and things.  I like you, Neal.  I think we could be friends.”  And then Belle froze, her eyes growing wide.  “Oh!”

“Oh?” Neal asked.

“Is there anyone you’re attached to, Neal?  Anyone here you wish you might spend time with?”  She had an idea.  An illicit idea that would disappoint her father.  Ariel would be confused.  She didn’t even dare tell Rum, at least not yet.  She hoped she was right about Neal being someone she could trust.  

“I wouldn’t dream of it, not here.  And there’s no one at home either.  Living on a ship most the time isn’t the best way to meet people, and I’ve moved around a lot ever since I was little.”

“So no one would be hurt if you pretended to court me.”  Belle beamed.  It really could be the best way to take care of her problem.

“If I what?”  He was looking at her as if she hadn’t spoken English.  Or she had more than one head.

“Pretend to court me.  I know it’s asking a terrible favor and you don’t know me very well, but it wouldn’t have to be for very long.  And you would only have to dance with me once of twice and no one else would ask you for dances.  If you wanted to play any of the games I could help and if you didn’t want to we would just have to say we were taking a walk.”  She was speaking too fast.  Belle stopped and forced herself to take a breath

“And your Mr. Aston wouldn’t bother you?” Neal guessed.

“He’s going to ask me to marry him soon.”  She already felt like she knew Neal better than she knew Gus.  And she could learn to know him better, as a friend, and not worry that he was after her money.

“But would anyone believe us?”  He didn’t say no.  Belle caught her breath.

“Ariel and Eric saw each other for the first time in Normandy.  Why not us as well?  We could say that we are renewing our acquaintanceship.  My returning home had forced us to part but now we have found each other again.”  It sounded like one of the books she had borrowed from the maids when she’d been trying to learn about kissing. “The only people to know any different would be Ariel and Eric, and they wouldn’t tell.”

“I’m not a rich man, not like the peacock out there.”  Neal nodded toward the window.  Belle had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing when she imagined Gus as a peacock.  He did like to strut.

“You have something more important, Neal.  You have mystery.  No one knows anything about you but for the fact that you’re a guest of Eric’s.  You could be a prince from a neighboring country.  An owner of emerald mines.  Captain of a ship that sails to the spice islands.  Perhaps you have coffee plantations or own the largest emporium in Europe.”  They wouldn’t need anyone to believe them for that long, just long enough for Gus to become interested in someone else.  Belle knew her father would find someone else, after that, but it would take time.

“A world famous cat burglar?” 

“Like Robin Hood, only going after rich peacocks.”  Belle laughed, not bothering to hide it.  Neal’s eyes were twinkling.  “Would you consider it?  I would owe you a favor.”

“My papa told me never to make promises unless you knew what was on the other end of the deal.  Let me think about it.”  There were voices in the hall; it looked like their sanctuary wouldn’t last much longer.  

“Thank you.”  It wasn’t proper, but she couldn’t help taking his hand in hers and giving it a squeeze.  “Just talking to you has made me feel better. Neal Cassidy.  Thank you for that.”

“You’re not like anyone I’ve met before, Belle.”

“Thank you.”  A moment later the door opened; it was Ariel and Eric, come to look for them both.

[goldenhemmings]

Stealing Second | Baseball!Shawn (Part Five)

Hello again, and for the last time (at least regarding this series)! This is gonna do it for Stealing Second, and it wouldn’t be right of me to not take the time to thank every single one of you that ever took time out of your day to read the writing that I’ve been putting out. When I posted part one of this I was seriously not expecting anyone to care about my stupid baseball obsession, and yet here we are. Thank you guys for your time, your kind words and messages, and for sticking with me through long periods of time inbetween updates. I cannot thank y’all enough for supporting this series, it has been so much fun for me to write and share. This part is 9.4k words, and I’d so love to hear your feedback on it when you read it. Here we go!!

Shawn didn’t understand. He stormed down the hallway towards the elevator, frustrated fists raking through his curls. He all-but punched the 12 button, backing against the wall and letting the back of his head fall against it as the elevator began its ascent to his floor. Everything had been going so well, and then Y/N went and threw him a curveball that there was no chance he could hit. He hadn’t seen it coming, and he didn’t know how to handle it. He understood her reasoning, but at the same time...he didn’t. It wasn’t fair what was happening to her, but were a few unexpected roadblocks really all it took to make her walk away? She was going to readily give him up to bow down to the supposed expectations of team higher-ups that she couldn’t control? He knew it made sense to her, that she was thinking of herself, but he didn’t understand why it had to be like this. He couldn’t understand, and he especially didn’t believe her when she said there was nothing he could do about it.

He obviously had plenty of connections with the team; there had to be at least one person who could help. His coach, the team’s general manager, an executive...anyone. He was intent on finding a way for her to have the best of both worlds, because he loved her. That, however, was new. He hadn’t yet admitted to himself those feelings before he’d found himself inadvertently admitting them to her in the heat of the moment. He wished the words hadn’t been said that way; she acted like she hadn’t even heard them. He’d wanted them to mean more. As Shawn turned the key into the lock of his apartment door, he resolved to find a way to fix things. Y/N couldn’t (or wouldn’t, he didn’t know), so he would. He needed to talk to her somehow, when both of them were more level-headed, and ask what he could do; there had to be at least one thing, despite what she said. For her, he’d figure it out.

He just had to find a way to get her alone.

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

“Don’t shoot the messenger.”

You looked up from your computer, which you’d been bent over for the past three straight hours throwing yourself head-first into your work. You watched out of the corner of your eye as Cassidy re-enter your shared office before she flopped down into the swivel chair at her desk. “What?” you laughed. “Did something happen in your meeting with the PR Director?”

“Y/N, just start calling him Curt already,” she giggled, crossing one of her legs over the other. “It’s not weird.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, whatever. Anyways, what’s with the cryptic ‘don’t shoot the messenger?’”

She sighed. “Curt just told me that Sports Illustrated is sending a team to Toronto on Friday. They want to put a player on their cover, that’s what the meeting was about.”

“Holy shit!” you cried. Sports Illustrated covers were a massive deal, and it would be huge for the team to secure one. It was obviously a last-minute decision, considering that the SI team would be coming to Toronto in only two days. “Who are they covering?”

Cassidy groaned. “This is the part where I’d expect you to shoot me.”

You laughed dryly; now you understood. “It’s Shawn, isn’t it?” you asked, though it came out like a flat statement. You’d been doing so well distracting yourself from thinking about him the past twenty-four hours; you didn’t particularly want to have an actual conversation with him as the sole subject. Cassidy nodded, one side of her mouth quirked up into a sympathetic smile.

“Good for him, I guess,” you said, returning your focus to your computer. “It’s a big deal, and it’s not like he hasn’t earned it.”

“Well, as glad as I am to hear you say that, you’re probably gonna change your mind.”

You scoffed. “Why?”

“Well, we work in Public Relations.”

“I’m aware,” you laughed. “What’s going on with you, Cass? You’re being weird.”

Another sigh. “As PR staff, we have to preside over everything that connects the Blue Jays with the fans. This SI article will be a media publication about the team, so our department has to...oversee it.”

“Cassidy,” you warned, though you had a gut feeling you knew where this was going. “Define ‘oversee it.’”

“We have to make sure that SI presents Shawn in a way that’s to the team’s liking. Which means we have to...be there. For the interview. And the photoshoot, too. Basically what I’m trying to say is that you’re going to be trapped in a room with Shawn for an entire day, and there’s nothing you can do to get out of it, so I thought I’d at least warn you now so you had time to prepare.”

Great. “It’ll be fine,” you said flatly, though you knew fine was the last word you’d use to describe the way you felt about the situation. Cassidy sensed your apprehension, evidenced in a subtle raise of her eyebrows.

“You sure about that?”

You huffed and looked up from your computer. “It doesn’t really matter if I am or not. I’m just going to be professional.” In the off chance that there were going to be any executives present at the shoot, it was a chance for you to show that you took your job seriously and didn’t have any conflicting personal relationships that could jeopardize that. At least not anymore.

Cassidy didn’t seem to fully buy your confidence. “Well, if you need anything on Friday, just let me know. I want to make sure this isn’t too hard for you.”

“Why would it be hard? It’s my job.”

“Yes, and once again Shawn has been put in a place that could potentially interfere with that.”

“Not anymore, Cass,” you answered, a little more coldly than you’d intended. “That’s why we’re no longer together.”

She didn’t answer, instead turning in her swivel chair to return to her work. She didn’t appear to be convinced that you were seemingly unbothered by what was to come. You weren’t sure that you were convinced, either.

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

You learned right after waking up Friday morning in an email from Curt that the entire PR department was “expected to be wearing team attire for the duration of Sports Illustrated’s time with the Blue Jays in order to maintain a professional and fun work environment.” Just your luck. Team attire meant Jays jerseys, and you wanted to scream as you sifted through your closet in search of an outfit. You had four fucking jerseys, and they all had Shawn’s name on them. You stubbornly pulled the one uniform that actually belonged to you down from its hanger, throwing it onto your bed along with a pair of black jeans.

You remembered your mother giving you that jersey the day you left for Toronto. It was her idea of a parting gift; a symbol for how proud she was of you for finally getting your foot in the door of the MLB. She knew Shawn was your favorite player at the time, and had opted for it to be his name that was embroidered onto the back of the jersey. It was what you were wearing when you met Shawn, and it was also what you’d be wearing when you had to finally face him for the first time since breaking things off. Funny how things always seemed to come full circle.

You walked to work as usual, stepping through the door right at eight. You took the elevator up to the fourth floor and navigated your way to the room Curt had described as the location of the shoot. You began to hear noise as you got further down the hallway, and you ducked into the spacious room where people were hustling to set things up. You felt a little lost until your eyes found Cassidy standing in a white jersey, and you did your best to push your way through the room to get to her.

“Hey!” she exclaimed as you approached her, always so full of energy--even at eight in the morning. “Whose jersey have you got on?”

You rolled your eyes. “My morning was fine, thanks for asking. How was yours?”

She groaned, looking up at the ceiling. “Don’t be lame, Y/N.”

“Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to,” you retorted, and Cassidy laughed.

“Touche,” she smiled, nudging you with her shoulder. “Though, you could’ve just asked to borrow one of my jerseys so you didn’t have to wear Shawn’s,” she continued, and you scoffed.

“Wish I’d thought of that about two hours ago. Too late now.”

She shrugged. “Oh well. It’ll be fun to watch him go a little nuts when he sees you.”

“Yeah, maybe for you.” Cassidy laughed again, and you smiled and nudged her back.

Not long after, the room had cleared of everyone except the small Sports Illustrated team and the six of you on the PR staff, identifiable by the jerseys you were all wearing. You hadn’t realized Shawn, who you now had a perfect view of thanks to the sudden decrease of people, had been in the room the whole time. He was shaking hands and talking with a middle-aged man who you assumed was the interviewer as people bustled around them setting up tape recorders to catch the audio and chairs for them to sit in. The interviewer clapped his hands and announced that he was starting, asking everyone to be quiet.

The PR staff all had the same job, which was to follow the interview and flag any questions or answers that were phrased unfavorably or could be taken the wrong way, but the questions were all as you’d expected: asking about baseball’s involvement in Shawn’s childhood, how much it meant to be playing for his hometown team, the Rookie of the Year rumors, his teammates, his coaches, et cetera. It’d been so long since you had paid attention to him being interviewed at the games that you’d forgotten how well-spoken he was. You almost hated how he always seemed to know exactly what to say and when to say it. But before long, the interviewer was beginning to enter a territory that was making you slightly nervous.

“Does being away so frequently make it difficult to maintain a consistent personal life?”

“Mmm,” Shawn mused, looking off to the side as he thought. “Not really. Anyone I want to talk to is just a phone call away when the team’s on the road. The majority of my personal life involves my teammates anyways, though, so it works out.”

“Speaking of your teammates, who would you say you’re the closest to? Which one has had the most impact on how you’ve adjusted to a life in the big leagues?”

“Well they’re all great guys and they’ve all been amazing to me in their own way, but I’ve gotten the closest to Justin Smoak, for sure,” Shawn answered, not even taking a second to think about it. “It sucks that he’s gonna be on the DL for the rest of the season. From my first practice with the team, he made it a point to take me under his wing and really show me how things work around here. Even aside from baseball, he’s so much fun to be around. I love hanging out with him and his wife on off days.”

The interviewer grinned and cocked his head to the side, looking down at the cue card in his hands. “That actually provides me with a perfect transition to my next question; people want to know if you’ve been able to find a girlfriend since going pro.” You almost wanted to laugh. The people reading Sports Illustrated were the last group that would give a shit whether or not Shawn had a girlfriend, and you hated questions like that in any kind of interview; what did it matter? The interviewer would be wasting space if he wrote that question into the magazine. Regardless, you found yourself holding your breath in anticipation of Shawn’s answer. His eyes flicked up to you briefly, and you felt your own eyes widen as you were filled with the sudden feeling that he was going to say something stupid like it’s complicated, right Y/N? But then he looked back at the interviewer, and all was well again.

“Working on it,” he laughed, and you let all your air out at once. It was a safe answer, and it wasn’t exactly a lie. At least not from his point of view.

The interview ended quite quickly after that, Shawn shaking the interviewer’s hand after the two of them posed for a few pictures. With the first part out of the way, it was time for the shoot itself. Shawn was hurried off, likely to change into his Toronto uniform, as the SI crew began moving the room around to assemble the photo set (which was really just a couple of fancy white bed sheet-looking pieces of fabric to be used as a background). You tuned out Cassidy’s comments about the interviewer asking Shawn if he had a girlfriend and made a mental note to flag that question when Curt asked for your feedback. You caught yourself looking all around the room as people bustled about; what you were looking for you weren’t sure, until you saw Shawn re-enter in full uniform and you realized you’d been subconsciously scanning the room for him. You rolled your eyes at how predictable you were even without trying, but then internally came to the conclusion that just because you wouldn’t let yourself touch didn’t mean you couldn’t look. Because, really, it’d be nearly impossible to keep your eyes off of Shawn for the entire day, and everyone else would be looking at him, too; you wouldn’t appear to be staring at him any more than the next person. And he was always a sight to be seen in that uniform.

You were brought from your little space-out by the photographer’s bellowing voice taking command of the room. “Let’s get started, yeah?” he called out, stepping forward with his camera held carefully in his hands. “Shawn, let’s have you step onto the set.” You watched a little too intently as Shawn made his way in front of the white background, adjusting his hat and making sure his blue jersey was properly tucked into his white baseball pants. The photographer set him up with a wooden bat casually resting on his shoulder, then took a step back and frowned. “I don’t like this,” he muttered, evidently lost in thought. “Can’t see his face. Gonna have to lose the hat.”

“You,” he said, sending you a pointed glance and jabbing his finger in your direction. “Could you go get his cap?”

Your mouth formed a tight smile. “Sure,” you responded, though you knew it sounded strangled. You weren’t even the closest person to Shawn, but of course the photographer just had to ask you of all people. So much for your look, don’t touch rule; just your luck. You were further disgruntled by the fact that Shawn didn’t take the hat off of himself and hand it to you; he made you reach up and take it off yourself. Of course he did. He knew what he was doing. You avoided eye contact as you took the cap and turned to make your way off the set, but the photographer held up his hand.

“Wait, one more thing. Do me a favor and fix that piece of hair, I don’t want it over his face like that.”

He had to be kidding. You sighed and turned back around, stepping over to brush the hair off his forehead like you’d been instructed. You could feel Shawn’s eyes on you, and you were almost uncomfortable under the heat of his gaze; you were still somehow physically affected by him staring at you, but in a different way than usual. It usually made you excited, but now you were almost nervous, like there was a knot of anticipation in your stomach. You took a deep, steadying breath. As if things weren’t already hard enough without him looking at you like that.

“Thank you,” Shawn whispered as you took a step back, his eyes still glued to your face.

“Just doing my job,” you replied flatly, even though fixing Shawn’s hair for a photoshoot was in no way a part of your job description. You walked back over to stand by Cassidy, who shot you a small smirk.

“Have fun?”

“A blast,” you muttered sarcastically, clutching Shawn’s hat in your fist a little tighter than was necessary.

Three hours, two outfit changes, and one headline brainstorming session later, the lead from SI officially called a wrap. Their media team wasted no time importing the photos to make a digital manipulation of what the cover would look like, the words “Toronto Takes Off” in big, blue letters at the bottom of the page, a photo of Shawn taking up the whole cover. Curt cleared it for production, and with that the Sports Illustrated team began packing their equipment and heading out the door. No surprise to you, Shawn was thanking every single person as they began to trickle out.  

You turned to Cassidy, your back to Shawn, and began casually talking to her for all of ten seconds before she cut you off. “Not to freak you out or anything, but Shawn’s coming over here.”

You could feel your heart rate quicken, hating yourself for still involuntarily getting excited at the thought of even just talking to him. “Well keep talking to me then,” you pleaded, not daring to turn over your shoulder. “He’d never interrupt, he’s too polite.”

Cassidy sighed. “Y/N, I’m doing this because I love you,” she replied, an apologetic smile on her face as she began to back away from you. “You can’t avoid him forever. You need to talk to him.” Your eyes blew wide.

“Cassidy,” you hissed through gritted teeth. “Where are you going?”

“Sorry, friend. It’s not interrupting anything if I’m not here. Fill me in when you’re done.”

There was no point in you calling out after her, as she was quickly out of earshot. As soon as she was just about out of the room, you heard a shy “hey” from behind you. You reluctantly turned over your shoulder to face Shawn, forcing yourself to keep a neutral expression.

“Nice choice of jersey,” he continued with a small smirk, nodding at the blue top. You refrained from rolling your eyes; something like this happening was exactly what you were worried about that morning.

“Thanks,” you shrugged. “My jerseys kind of all have the same name on them, it’s not like I really have options.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “That’s not a bad thing. You look good in 98.”

You took a deep breath, choosing to not acknowledge his comment. “Is there something specific you wanted to talk about? I just...probably have to get back to work soon.”

He reached his hand up to scrub the back of his neck. “Oh, I was just wondering if you’ve come up with anything I can do to help you with what’s going on at work? I know I’ve offered before but I want to make sure you know how easily I could get to the general manager or someone like that and see if they could do anything about it. It really would be no trouble.”

You sighed. “That’s a sweet offer, Shawn, but I don’t report to the general manager. I already told you there’s nothing you can do, and even if there were, people aren’t going to change their opinions of me just because someone important comes along and intimidates them into having to play nice. Besides, if they heard about you trying to come to my rescue everything would just be worse.”

“I’m not trying to ‘rescue’ you, Y/N, I just want to help.”

“I know, Shawn, but that’s not how people would see it.”

“Why do you care so much about what everyone thinks of you?”

You ran a hand over your face, trying not to get frustrated. “We’ve already had this conversation, can we please not have a part two?”

“There’s gonna be as many parts as it takes for you to realize that you’re doing exactly what you’re supposed to be doing at work and that doesn’t change whether you’re with me or you’re not or whether people like you or not. I understand that you’re worried about getting a ‘real’ job after this, but how you’re doing in your job now is all that should matter for that.” He paused, taking a deep breath and scrubbing a hand over his face before continuing, more levelly. “I’m sorry. I’m trying to keep my cool, but I don’t want to let this go as easily as you did. I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do other than try to help you.”

That was not a turn you’d expected this awkward conversation to take. You looked up at the ceiling, trying to keep composure. There were still people around and you didn’t want to draw attention to yourself, especially not when you were talking to Shawn of all people (while wearing his jersey). “Nobody wants to hire someone they don’t like, Shawn. Please don’t make me sound like the bad guy for not wanting to be bullied at my internship and taken less seriously by almost everyone in a superior position to me. It wasn’t easy for me to stop this, I really hope that’s not what you actually think. I just need to establish myself in something more long-lasting with the team.”

He raked his tattooed hand through his hair, messing up his curls. “How long is that going to take?”

“I don’t know. I don’t even know if anybody on the hiring team likes me enough to even want to give me a lasting position.”

His expression softened a little. “It isn’t fair for them to judge your qualifications for a job based on anything other than your actual work. Our relationship shouldn’t have anything to do with it, and you shouldn’t have to change the way you live your life in order to cater to what you think they expect of you.”

You smiled, but it was sad. You missed Shawn like crazy and it had only been three days since you’d broken things off. Every time the feeling began to creep up on you, you had to remind yourself of the goals you’d set for your future and how being with him right now put that in jeopardy. It didn’t always help. “No, it’s not fair, but that’s the way it is. I’m looked at under a microscope because everyone expects me to be just another stereotype until I prove that I’m not. And I’ve not been doing a very good job at that.”

“So there’s no way for you to win, then,” Shawn sighed. He was finally starting to understand.

“Not until I get the executives to take me seriously enough to hire me for real.”

He nodded solemnly, looking off to his left. You could tell he was thinking. “Well, I guess just let me know when that happens.”

If that happened. But you didn’t have the heart to correct him. “I will. I should probably get back to work, though.”

“Oh, right. Sorry to keep you from it.”

You laughed a little. “It’s okay. You should probably get home and get some rest before the game tonight anyways. The Diamondbacks are tough.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” he smiled half-heartedly, and you offered a tiny smile in return as you turned over your shoulder to head back into the offices.

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

Later that day, Greg called you and the other five interns to his office for a meeting. You imagined it was because he wanted to check in to see how you were all doing, as the one-month mark since starting the internships was approaching. You and two of the other interns arrived to the office at the same time, taking seats around Greg’s small conference table as you waited for the others to arrive. You kept your eyes in your lap so as not to see the nasty way in which you were sure the other two, David and Matthew, were staring at you. As soon as the remaining three, Brandon, Tony, and Chris, had trickled in, Greg began asking questions. Whether or not everyone felt included in their departments, how demanding your workload was, what you were learning, if you were still finding time to keep up with the team itself, and so on.

He was about to switch gears from the rapid-fire questions when his desk phone rang, and he sighed and let out a little groan. He stepped over to his desk and pressed a button, plopping down into his swivel chair. “You’ve reached Greg, you’re on speakerphone.”

“Hey, Greg, it’s James. I’m with one of the statisticians finalizing the weekly report on the team’s numbers, but whoever’s in charge of score-keeping left out a few batting averages. Figured you’d know who that person is, so could you find them and ask for those official, current stats? I need them on Grichuk and Solarte.”

“Sure, James, if you give me just a few minutes, I’ll--”

“0.245 and 0.266.” You heard yourself say the words before you’d even realized you’d opened your mouth, and you felt every single person in the room focus their eyes on you.

Greg narrowed his eyes. “James, could you hold on just a second?” he asked, muting the phone before taking a slight step in your direction and focusing his attention on you. “Are you one-hundred percent positive about that?”

You took a breath, sitting up straight. Of course you were right. “Absolutely.”

Matthew spoke up next, a cocky smirk plastered on his mouth. “With all due respect, sir, she has absolutely no way of knowing that.”

You whipped your head around to face him, acting completely on impulse for once in your life. “I could recite the results of each of their last ten at-bats right now, off the top of my head. So yes, I do have a way of knowing that. Do you?”

“Knock it off,” Greg bellowed, and you and Matthew went quiet. Greg was silent for a few seconds, thinking, before he stepped back to unmute the receiver. “James? Yeah, still me. Grichuk’s batting 0.245 and Solarte’s at 0.266. Yes, I’m sure….Yeah, I can do that real quick. Uh huh...you too, bye.”

You felt a rush of energy in your chest that you refused to let your face give evidence of. Greg trusted you. He’d just taken you seriously. He sighed, hanging up the phone and staring back at the six of you. “You all wait here. I’ve gotta go ask someone a question, I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He turned to look solely at you. “I sure do hope you were right, kid.”

The second Greg was out the door the room became a lion’s den, and you were the sole prey. The guys turned their heads to you as though they were about to bear their teeth, and you gulped with the anticipation that came from knowing that they were surely going to tear you to shreds.

“What did you do, make flashcards or something?” Matthew began, and once he got the ball rolling the others wasted no time digging in, too.

Chris followed. “Gotta stay up to date on the team to fool the players into thinking she actually cares about baseball. How else is she gonna get them in bed?”

“Why do you have such a problem with me?” you snapped, hating yourself for the tears that stabbed the backs of your eyes. If you cried in front of these animals, you’d never recover. They’d bite into you until you ran for the hills and never looked back.

“Less than a month after you start working here you’re caught sneaking around with a player, especially one as good as Mendes, and you expect us not to call you out for what you are?” David sneered.

“There is nothing between me and any player on this team.”

They laughed, and you felt your bottom lip begin to tremble. Tony chimed in next. “I think the half a million people that’ve viewed that video of you and Mendes on MLB Network would beg to differ.”

You would never live that down. “That was a completely innocent interaction one time, and there is absolutely nothing there. You have no idea.”

“I’ll believe that when--”

“She’s right,” spoke a voice that had been otherwise silent the entire time. Brandon. The room was temporarily quiet. Everyone turned to face where he sat at the end of the conference table, his laptop computer opened in front of him. “A-About the stats on Grichuk and Solarte. I looked up the results of all of their at-bats since the last time the batting averages were officially updated. I did the math by hand to factor in the recent plate appearances to the previous averages in order to get the current numbers. Like it or not, 0.245 and 0.266 are spot on.” Brandon turned to look at you, his eyes wide and seemingly apologetic. “You were right, Y/N.”

You didn’t even have time to be proud of yourself before Tony was butting in. “So she has a good memory, big deal. That doesn’t prove anything.”

“Probably only memorized that stuff to impress Mendes in the first place,” Chris snickered, and all of the interns--with the exception of Brandon--began to snicker. “Jersey-chasing skank.” The continuous mentions of Shawn were snapping something in you that evoked a rage you’d never felt before. He wasn’t even technically in your life anymore, but these guys were finding a way to insert him there in an attempt to make you look bad--like a jersey chaser. Something you weren’t, and something you absolutely despised being called. Unable to maintain your composure any longer, you burst.

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not sitting right here. If you have something to say about me, you can say it to me. I’ve been pretty passive up in dealing with how you’ve all been treating me up to this point but I’m sick of feeling like I have something to prove to you guys. And even when I do prove that I obviously know what I’m talking about--like I just did with the batting averages--that still doesn’t seem to be enough for you. You don’t have to like the fact that I’m working for this team, but you do have to accept it and stop making excuses to undermine my motives like when you call me a jersey chaser.” By this point, you were yelling. You couldn’t help it. “You don’t get to disrespect my character and my capabilities because you’re secretly threatened by the fact that I’m a girl who has just as good a chance at getting a full-time job with the team as any of you do. I am your equal. In job title, in capability, and in potential. Don’t ever underestimate me again, or--”

You froze as you heard the door open from behind you, and you took heavy breaths as you felt your words hanging stale in the air, unanswered. The other interns’ eyes were immediately downcast, focusing on anything but Greg now standing in the doorway.

“Everyone out,” Greg commanded, low and quiet but menacing all the same. You grabbed your purse from your lap and stood to leave, completely drained of the energy you’d just exerted. Of course the one time you stuck up for yourself, your boss overheard without context and probably couldn’t stop thinking about how unprofessional you were. Just as you turned over your shoulder to head for the door with everyone else, Greg’s voice stopped you. “Not you, Y/N. You stay.”

Your heart sank. “O-okay.”

Once everyone else was out of the room, Brandon shooting you another look of apology as he went, Greg moved to sit in his swivel chair, leaving you still awkwardly standing in the middle of the room.

He turned in his chair to face you. “Shut the door, would you?” You silently complied, your heart hammering in your chest. You were going to get fired. You knew it. You’d been perfectly damage controlling, cutting your relationship with Shawn and focusing solely on work. You were on track to salvaging your reputation and proving yourself as a hard worker and nothing else--not even a jersey chaser. And then you’d gone and thrown it up in flames.

Greg gestured for you to take a seat, and you pulled one of the extra chairs that was against the wall up to the side of his desk. You sat down and squeezed your hands in your lap in an effort to keep them from shaking, but how much your legs were bouncing made up for the lack of nerves in your fingers. You didn’t say anything, just forced yourself to look at him and keep your composure.

“How’s your day been going?”

You almost scoffed; the last thing you’d expected was a question like that. “Um, good.”

Greg’s eyes widened and he leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. “Good? Even after that conversation I just overheard? I’d actually call it more of an argument, on second thought.”

“W-what?”

“I could repeat some of the things that were said to jog your memory, but--”

“No, no, I remember,” you hastened, throwing one of your hands up.

“Are...are you doing okay?” Greg asked hesitantly, leaning forward in his chair towards you as though he were trying to psychoanalyze you. If you hadn’t known any better, you’d have thought he seemed concerned. For a reason you couldn’t put your finger on, it bothered you. You weren’t a wounded animal, and you didn’t need his pity.

“I’m fine, I just kind of want to hurry and get this over with,” you muttered, looking down at your lap.

Greg frowned. “Get what over with?”

“Being fired,” you whispered, still not daring to look up at him. You squeezed your eyes shut as though to brace yourself. At least you didn’t have to worry about crying; you were convinced you didn’t have the energy left to.

There was a short pause, but to you it felt like an eternity. Your words hung in the air, the silence seemingly a loud answer to your worst fear. But then Greg finally spoke. “I...Why would I fire you?” he asked, sounding genuinely taken aback.

“Because other people obviously have a problem with me working here,” you mumbled.

“Look here, kid,” he said, and you slowly brought your eyes up to meet his. “My wife has worked in the finance department for years, it’s how we met. I know she didn’t have it easy when she started and I have a feeling you can relate to that.”

You blinked, confused as to the path the conversation was going down. “I guess I can, yeah.”

“Your application for this position was incredible, I told you that on your first day. The work you’ve done while here is exactly the quality I expected it to be, if not better. Your being with this team is completely justified, despite what anyone else may be saying about you. It’s unfair that mockery like that is something you’re having to deal with undeservingly. Like this...name the other interns keep calling you; where are they getting it from?”

You scoffed. “I’d imagine because they can’t wrap their thick heads around the idea of a woman wanting to work in sports because she actually likes it and knows what she’s talking about,” you snapped, before immediately catching yourself. You felt heat rise to your cheeks. “Sorry, I didn’t--It’s just embarrassing. They’re calling me a jersey chaser because they think I’m only here for the guys in jerseys, plain and simple. And wrong, too.” You purposely left out that your relationship--ex relationship--with Shawn had only added fuel to their fire.

“And how long have they been treating you like this?”

You let out a huff of air. “Since day one, basically.”

His eyes got a little wider as he reached a hand up to run over the top of his head. “Why didn’t you tell me, or anyone else?”

“I told a friend from my department, but that’s it. I honestly didn’t think anyone would care enough to do anything about it. I can tell not many people like that I’m here in the first place, so what would be the point? They’d probably just think I can’t take a joke. Because how hilarious is being called a jersey chaser, right?” You laughed flatly, staring down at your lap and beginning to absentmindedly pick at your chipping nail polish.

Greg nodded, leaning back and folding his hands over his stomach. “I understand. Is there...anything else you want to add to that? Anything else you want to get off your chest while we’re here?”

Did he already know something? Whether he did or not, this was your chance to tell him yourself about Shawn; to let him hear the story from you first in the off chance he’d yet to hear it from someone else. But you weren’t quite sure of what to say, and you chuckled sheepishly, deciding to try and gage the situation. “Is there, um, something you’re expecting me to add?”

“Well, there’s been a lot of...talk...among the team executives about you. About your personal life. Which, if you ask me, is not relevant or appropriate for them to be discussing, but they’re my bosses so I can’t really do anything about that. But of course we’ve all seen that video on MLB Network, and it does naturally raise some questions. I wanted to give you the chance to speak for yourself; to ask you directly instead of speculating with everyone else.”

“Ask me about Shawn,” you confirmed, but then realized your mistake. “Oh, Mendes, I mean! Sorry. Ask me about Mendes.”

Greg laughed lightly. “I see you’re on a first-name basis, then. That answers quite a bit.”

“I--I don’t really know what to say,” you sighed, too exasperated to beat around the bush. You weren’t sure how Greg expected--or wanted--you to answer, and you didn’t want to say the wrong thing.

“Well, is Shawn a...part of your life?” You could tell that he was trying to choose his words carefully.

You huffed out a flat laugh. You could not believe you were having this conversation with your boss, of all people. “He was. Past tense.”

“And did that begin before or after you were hired to work here?”

“We met after I was hired, but before my first day at the office. It’s kind of a complicated timeline.”

“Right. Now--last question, I promise--do your coworkers have anything to do with the emphasis on the ‘past tense’ aspect of your relationship with him?”

“That’s a large part of it, yeah,” you muttered, looking down at your lap.

“So that’s where the ‘jersey chaser’ thing really fits in, then,” Greg confirmed, and you nodded.

“They thought that of me before that video of Shawn and I started circulating, didn’t think there could be any other reason why I would want to be working here. I couldn’t stand that I was confirming everyone’s stereotypical opinions of me, so I broke it off. I didn’t want it to impact my ability to get an official job here once the internship is over. I needed to keep my priorities straight.”

“Mhm,” Greg nodded, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands over his belly. “Well, I’m not explicitly saying that I do or don’t condone anything, but what I will say is that I think the hiring team would be a bunch of idiots to let you slip through their fingers for any reason. And I can promise you that, when the time comes for you to apply to work here for real, you have my full support. I don’t know how much that will get you with them, but I’ll back you anyways. I personally don’t think your life outside of work should have any influence on their hiring decisions, because the work you’ve turned out so far is phenomenal and beyond impressive considering you’re only an intern.”

You felt frozen. “So, you’re saying…”

“I’m saying that if you keep doing what you’ve been doing work-wise, I think you’ll be fine; all personal relationships considered. If you stay focused and don’t worry about the higher-ups, that new full-time Media Communications job opening could be yours.”

“Media Comm,” you mused, feeling your heart rate quicken in excitement. “That position operates out of PR; I’d still be with my department.”

Greg nodded his affirmation. “And I’d love to recommend you for it. Look, kid, I understand that this franchise means the world to you; it was enough to make you give up something really important. But I just don’t think that was necessary. Your work, dedication, and resolve speaks for itself. You’re gonna be just fine here.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing; you didn’t know what to say. “I--God, are you sure? I-I mean, are you serious?” Greg nodded, his mouth beginning to pull into a smile. “Thank you. You have no idea how important this is to me, how much it means for you to support me like that.”

“I think I might have at least a little bit of an idea,” he chuckled, and you breathed out a laugh. “And I also think you ought to go see him right now.”

“Go see who? Shawn?” you questioned, shocked. Greg nodded. “Um, well, I guess I will eventually, but I don’t get off until 6:30. That’s four hours from now.”

He let out a deep, bellowing laugh and you felt your forehead crease in confusion. “As your boss, I’m pretty sure I can work something out. Go, he should be getting here pretty soon to start prepping along with the rest of the team. Wouldn’t want you to miss him.”

You knew you were smiling like a little kid, but you didn’t care. Not only had you finally managed to stand up to the people who’d been making your life miserable, but someone important in the office was actually showing you kindness knowing what was going on in your personal life. “Thank you so much, Greg, I...Wow, I just…” you paused, taking a breath to calm yourself as you stood up from the chair you were in. “Thank you.”

“Of course, kid. Now get down to the player’s parking lot and wait for him. You know where it is?”

Your smile turned smug; of course you knew where it was. “Yeah, I do. I’ll see you at work on Monday, okay?”

“Yep!” Greg called, but you were already halfway out the door. You flew down the hallway to the ever-so-familiar Stadium Access door, not caring whether or not anyone saw you swing it open. You entered the hallway as you’d done so many times before, but you froze when you realized that your excitement had caused you to get ahead of yourself. You knew how to get to the dugout through these hallways, but you had no clue how to get up to the main concourse where the concessions and seating were, and therefore where the door to the team parking lot was. You’d hit a roadblock of sorts, and it was killing your mood.

You had to start somewhere, and you decided to venture down the path to your right and see where it took you. You followed it until you heard voices, and the closer you got the more familiar they began to sound. You rounded a corner and saw Kevin Pillar and Danny Jansen making their way towards you, and you breathed a sigh of relief as you realized that you’d somehow managed to pick the right way to go. When he saw you, Kevin paused.

“Hey, Y/N. Looking for Shawn?”

“Yeah, I am. Is he coming? Or is he already here?”

“I saw him pull up right as we were walking in. He should be right behind us.”

“Perfect, thank you so much.” Kevin nodded as if to say ‘you’re welcome’ and ‘goodbye’ all at once, and you decided to just stay put and wait for Shawn instead of chasing him down.

You leaned your right shoulder against the side of the hallway, tapping your foot on the ground anxiously as you waited for Shawn to appear from around the corner. After what felt like an eternity of anticipation, you saw his tall frame begin to come into view. He frowned as he recognized you, silently wondering what you were doing.

“Y/N? Is everything okay?”

“Shawn, hey. I--Shit, I don’t know. I got so excited I never really planned what to say.”

His brows pulled together. “Excited about what?”

“Long story short, work isn’t an issue anymore.”

He still looked confused, and he crossed his arms over his broad chest. “What do you mean?”

“Getting a job. I talked to my boss, told him everything about the interns and you and what I was worried about. He’s totally got my back. I don’t know if it’ll be enough, but he’s really high up with the team and he made it sound like I’d have a future here no matter what happened with my personal life.” Shawn was silent, staring at you blankly. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you nervous. “I’m saying we can go back to the way things were. O-Only if you still want, I guess, but you told me this morning to tell you when that happened and it did.”

“How’d you sneak away from work to even get down here?”

Your eagerness fell a little because he’d yet to acknowledge what you were saying, but you didn’t let it show. “Greg let me go. Told me to go, actually, was completely encouraging it.”

He sighed and turned over his shoulder to look back down the empty hallway, his face still not reading any sort of happiness over what you were saying. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you down a separate hall, out of sight and out of earshot of any of his teammates that could come venturing down the hallway at any minute.

Your heart was racing at this point and your mind was full of worry that something had changed, that it was too late and you’d already done irreversible damage. You felt dumb for assuming that you could just waltz down here and that things would go back to normal, as though you hadn’t put Shawn through extreme stress and frustration for the past four days.

The two of you came to a stop as Shawn led you around a corner, and he turned so that he was facing you and no longer had a grasp on your wrist. His face was still unreadable. “I’m sorry, I’m starting to think I made a mistake coming down here like this,” you began, looking down at the ground in embarrassment. “I don’t know why I thought you’d be more--”

You were cut off by Shawn finally speaking again, looking down at you with a smug expression. “Just wanted to psych you out.”

It was your turn to frown and be confused. “What?”

“Did it work?”

“Did what work?”

“Did I make you nervous?”

“I’m going to start getting really frustrated if you don’t tell me what you mean.”

“Well I was trying to freak you out a little by being all cryptic, but apparently all I did was make you mad,” he teased, but you still felt a little frozen.

“So that was all just to mess with me?”

He nodded, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. You felt yourself let out a huge breath of air, the tension leaving your shoulders. “Well it worked, you asshole,” you laughed, and you were immediately swallowed by Shawn’s arms pulling you to him, wrapping all the way around you so tightly that you couldn’t have moved even if you’d wanted to. For the first time in days, something finally felt right again, and you were as content as ever.

“So no more of this?” Shawn asked, his voice muffled as he continued to hold you. “It can go back to normal?”

You nodded against his chest. “I’m really sorry, Shawn. I thought I was doing what was best for myself but I wasn’t thinking clearly and I never asked for help, that’s my fault. God, I was so worried you’d shoot me down for a second.”

He laughed, pulling away from you. “Why’s that?”

“Don’t know. The general lack of excitement threw me a little bit,” you giggled. “But in all seriousness, it would be selfish of me to just assume that you were waiting around for me to give a green light again.”

“Right, but I’m pretty sure I made it clear that that was exactly what I planned to do. Look, Coach is expecting me and I don’t want to keep you from work. But you can meet me in our spot before gametime like usual? We can talk more then?”

You nodded, grinning like an idiot. “Okay. But I’m going to need help getting back to that main hallway between the offices and the stadium. I have no idea where I am.”

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

Right at 6:30, you exited out of all of the tabs on your computer and immediately began to throw your belongings into your purse. You pushed your chair into your desk and stood up, swinging your bag over your shoulder.

Cassidy looked back at you as you stood up to leave, her perfectly arched brows knit together. “You’re not staying to watch the game with us in the clubhouse?”

“No, I am,” you replied with a smile, smoothing over your clothes. “I just have to go do something first. Save me a seat on the couch?”

“Always do,” she nodded, smiling and turning back to her computer.

You headed out of the office and down the hallway towards the elevators, taking it down to the first floor and walking to the Stadium Access door like you’d done so many nights before. Walking to the little room where you always met Shawn was like muscle memory by this point, and as you opened the door to see him already standing inside it was probably the most excited you’d ever been to see him. He greeted you with a huge hug and then took hold of your hands, and you wasted no time asking him how he felt about the game tonight.

“I’m finally getting used to playing without Justin,” Shawn shrugged, swinging your joined hands absentmindedly. “But this is going to be a tough series. The D-Backs are really good this year and I’d probably be happy if we could just win one game out of the three we play them.”

You nudged him teasingly. “Oh, come on. Don’t be so hard on yourself. Who knows? Maybe rookie second basemen are their weakness.”

He laughed. “Yeah, I’m sure,” he retorted sarcastically, and you grinned.

“You never know. Don’t forget to put your eye black on before the game, also. You usually have it on by now.”

He silently reached into his back pocket to hand you the tube, and you smiled in understanding of what he wanted you to do. You popped the cap off and moved Shawn’s hat back out of the way, placing a hand under his chin to anchor yourself as you drew the trademark black lines under his eyes as you’d done several times before. You were glad to be doing it again; it felt normal, and it felt right in a way you couldn’t describe.

You finished and took a step back to admire your work, handing him the tube back with its lid on. Shawn smiled, pausing for a second to look down at you just long enough to make you want to squirm under the heat of his brown eyes. You quirked your head to the side, looking at him in bemusement. “What?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, looking off to the side. “It’s just good to be doing this again. It’s like I have my lucky charm back, I’ll be back on my game.”

You laughed. “Shawn Mendes does not need a lucky charm to play well. He never did.”

He grinned, pressing a kiss to your cheek before turning to leave. “Well, it’s almost gametime. Guess we’re about to find out if that’s really true or not.”

“Wait, there’s actually, um, something I wanted to tell you before you go to the dugout.” You could feel your heart hammering in your chest, and you tried to no avail to steady it.

“Yeah? What’s that?” he asked, coming back over and nonchalantly grabbing one of your hands to bring it up and place a kiss on the back of it.

“When we were in my apartment that night...fighting, I guess you could call it,” you shrugged nervously, staring down at the Nike symbol on Shawn’s cleats. You could feel the rambling coming on, but you were in too deep to stop talking now. “You said something that kind of caught my attention, and I don’t really know if you meant to say it, but I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and--”

“Y/N,” he chuckled. “Just say it, it’s okay.”

“You said you loved me,” you whispered, your eyes still on the ground. Your words hung in the air so long that the anticipation almost brought tears to your eyes.

“That’s ‘cause I do,” Shawn finally said, matter-of-factly, and you snapped your eyes back up to his.

“Really?” you cried, unthinking. “Wait, shit, I mean…What I’m trying to say is...” You sighed, taking a breath to reset. “I love you, too,” you mumbled, kicking your toe into the ground.

“What was that?” Shawn asked, and you could hear the smirk in his voice.

“I love you too,” you said, still muttering, but a little louder.

“Sorry, one more time?”

“I said that I--” You were cut off by Shawn’s lips pressing onto yours, and as your hands found a home on his body you felt yourself deflate.

He pulled away, his palms pressed to either side of your face as his brown eyes bore into yours with an intensity you’d never experienced. “I love you.”

You giggled. “I love you, too,” you said, and you meant it. It had taken separation and tension for you to realize it, but you were glad you did. It was a special feeling, one you hadn’t felt in a long time and definitely never this strong. You were completely wrapped around Shawn’s finger, whether or not you wanted to admit that to yourself.

“Oh yeah?” he said, stepping back and folding his arms across his chest, a smug smile plastered on his face. “How much?”

“Don’t get cocky,” you laughed, and he grinned right along with you.

“‘M just messing with you. I’ll see you after the game though, yeah?”

“Sure,” you nodded as he turned away, but you weren’t done yet. “Shawn?”

He paused, looking back over his shoulder at you with a smile that nearly rendered you useless. “Hmm?”

“To center field and back. That’s how much. Good enough?”

He grinned, coming back for one last kiss. “Of course it is. I love you to center field and back, too.”

With that he finally left for the dugout, and even all the way from that little room you could hear the increase in the crowd’s volume as Shawn once again returned to his home at second base.

Taglist (I’m so sorry if it wouldn’t let me tag you): 

@ashwarren32 @d-arkestangel @idkseavey @yellowitsmendes @north1692 @calistheloml @perfectlywrongfm @gentleshawn @mariemmendes @shawnsmercy @wildest-dream- @shortieshake @shadowsndaisies @yourwonderbelle @madon566 @ruinmeshawn @itrocksmysocks @just-another-fan-girl-for-you @ilovejackavery @vnv21 @twoisalwaysbetterthan1 @planstonightbaby @lou-la-lou @greteeweetee @shawnyimagines @helpmemendes @overactiveimaginati0n @princessflutterwolf @justjustyncase @cali--marie @falling-stars-never-cry @ashftshawn @captaincorbyn @colorful-dodie @andreburakovskyyyyyyy @giveme-gaskarth @ayetami @x-seventeen-x @onlynarry @to-the-road @hollandechart @princessmendes13 @rare-breed-of-human @iamamuggleborn @prettymuchboodup @supernatural-lover-teamfreewill @jc-paramore @etherealchar @ykicantbefoundwithyou @choripxn @noodleboyluke @petit-funsize @heavenly---holland @the-claire-bitch-project @calumasfuckkkk @sleepybesson @shawnshufflepuff @zankivich @justanothergirl-80 @qxeen-of-hearts @begging-mnds @shawnsvlogsquad

[stars-and-rose]

|Heart Point| Chapter One

Is Emily staring another story when she already has like eight others planned?

You fucking bet!

This AU is a collab between me and @planetkookie ! Kai is an absolute Queen! She's the one behind all the amazing art in this AU (you can see the character designs if scroll through my account, or search the tag #heart point au!) She'll also be writing one-shots when she feels inspired too!

Meanwhile, I'm writing the main fic!

Notice: I own none of the characters in this! Vance and Cassidy belong to Aphmau, and the boys all belong to Thomas Sanders!

The general plot and some dialogue belong to Aphmau as well

Without further ado....

Fandom: Thomas Sanders/Sanders Sides

Pairings: Logince, (Eventual) Prinxiety, (Eventual) Logicality and (Eventual) Remceit

Summary: In which Roman suffers through a break-up and proceeds to accept a gift- which probably wasn't a good idea.

Word Count: 2892

Trigger Warnings: Break-up, Fainting, Cursing because I cannot contain my potty mouth, not anything really severe this fic is very fluffy

next>>

Chapter One: When momma said "Don't accept gifts from strangers," she might of been on to something

"You're breaking up with me?"

Roman could not believe this was happening. He loosened his grip on the hot chocolate he'd been drinking; the hot liquid had turned bitter on his tongue. He stared at his boyfriend, who wasn't making eye contact with him.

"That's,  um, a way to put it. Definitely." Roman's boyfriend, Vance, still wasn't meeting his eyes.

"Definitely a way to put it or definitely breaking up with me?" Roman's voice still had the tiniest bit of hope in it. Maybe he'd heard Vance wrong. Maybe he was jumping to conclusions, a skill he was fantastic at.

"Both?" Vance finally raised his eyes and they met with Roman's. Vance's blue eyes were filled with apprehension, sadness, and something that looked suspiciously like pity.

Meanwhile, Roman was trying not to cry, his green eyes scrunched with his effort. "Oh."

"Ro?" Vance's voice was soft. "You okay?"

"Did I do something wrong?"

Vance shook his head violently. "Do something? Are you kidding? No, no way! You've been an awesome boyfriend-"

"But you're breaking up with me?" Roman blinked a few times, desperate not to cry.

Vance let out a sigh. "Yes."

"For Cassidy. On the track time." Roman's voice gained a bit of an edge as he spoke.

"Heh… I see word travels fast." Vance grumbled, looking away again. Roman covered his head in his hands. Little tears were starting to fall down his face and he'd be damned if he let Vance see them.

"You're dumping me for Cassidy on the track team?" Roman's voice was muffled, and Vance sighed.

"Oh no… Roman…I'm sorry… please don't cry…. Ro come on, we're in public."

"Crying? Who's crying?" Roman lifted his head from his hands, eyes a bit red.

"Roman…."

Roman let out a laugh that held no humor to it. "Why would I be crying, I'm an adult, thank you."

"Don't call yourself an adult when you have stickers all over your face."

It was true, Roman did have stickers on his face: two gold stars, one on his left cheek and the other near his right eyes. It was one of many ways Roman showcased himself to the world, and he was proud of it.

"I can have stickers all over my face and handle my boyfriend breaking up with me three weeks before prom because that’s what adults do!" Roman's voice grew louder as he spoke, drawing attention from the people around them. Neither boy cared. Roman loved attention and Vance was used to it, due to Roman's dramatic flair.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Vance's voice had become soft again.

"Absolutely."

That had been twenty minutes ago.

Currently, the same boy who'd said he was 'absolutely' okay was sobbing on his bed with his best friends arms around him. Patton always smelled like cookies and vanilla and the smell was a comfort to Roman.

"Oh, Kiddo, breathe, just breathe it's going to be okay." Patton soothed, rubbing the taller boy's back as he continued to sob. He looked around at the other boy in the room. "Remy, we're going to need more tissues."

"How did I end upon tissue duty?" Said boy huffed, walking across the room with the tissues in his hands and his signature sunglasses pushed back.

"You were compelled by the ancient right of friendship!" Patton told him, before turning his attention back to Roman. "Here you go! Just take one-"

Roman proceeded to bury his face into the box.

"Or do that whatever works for you!" Patton looked back up. "Remy, we're going to need ice cream! Double-chocolate chunk, stat!"

"Now I'm on ice cream duty?" Remy sighed, crossing his arms.

"The power of friendship. It compels you!" That, or the fact Patton was starting to get into extreme dad mode, and that was a sight no one truly wanted to see.

"Gurl, I have track practice in fifteen minutes and if I don't get a coffee between now and then I am going to lose it."

"Vance..is on the track team! And so is Cassidy!" Roman instantly went back to sobbing at an even higher pitch than before. Patton winced.

"Oh my goodness, can we not bring up Track for now? Vance just dumped Ro-"

"-for Cassidy Stevenson?" Remy interrupted. " From the relay team? Yeah, I know. Cassidy hooked up with Vance at the post-meet and greet last week and then proceeded to spill everything to Alexandria Waters who is such a big mouth and told me- why are you looking at me like that?"

"You knew about this?" Patton growled.

"Um, yes darling I pride myself in knowing all this school's gossip-"

"You knew about this and didn't tell Roman?" Patton yelled, reaching over-protective dad mode, his eyes blazing as Remy took a step back.

"Hey, I didn't want to trigger that!" Remy waved his arms at Roman, who was still managing to cry even though he had been doing so for almost a half-hour now.

Patton sighed, backing down. "Fair. Ro, kiddo, how we doing?"

"They're probably warming up together wearing those stupid short- shorts! Vance looks good in stupid short-shorts! Why is running even a sport anyway? It's just walking a little faster!" After his stunning contribution, Roman went back to the tissue box.

"Okay, that's my limit, I'm going to get myself coffee and go to track." Remy flipped down his sunglasses. "But, Roman? Forget about him. You're perfect just the way you are."

Roman wasn't feeling that perfect- his eyes were red from crying and his throat burned. "Even with stickers on my face?"

“Especially with the stickers. Okay, hon? Okay."

"Okay." Roman agreed softly.

"I'm going to go. AND IM GOING TO SMOKE DOWN THAT UNGRATEFUL STICKERLESS ASSHOLE FOR YOUR HONOR!" Remy cried out, exiting the dorm with a whoop!

"Yeah, Remy! Be our Prince's knight! Roast him! With butter! And organic peanut butter!" Patton cheered.

"Thanks, Remy," Roman whispered as he watched his friend leave.

"See, Ro? Everything will turn out a-o-kay!"

Then, the door swung open. "My apologies, I got here as soon as I could, by which I mean as soon as the scholastic decathlon mixer wrapped up-" Despite his breathing making it sound like he had run to the dorms, Logan still managed to look as professional and orderly as ever. Patton gave him a quick smile.

"Took ya long enough! Ah, don't look so guilty Lo, I'm joking."

"Is he okay?" Logan asked, scanning the room for their usually over-the-top friend. "Where is he?"

Patton simply pointed to Roman's bed, where the boy had wrapped his arms around his legs and curled into a ball. He had finished sobbing, but a few stray tears slipped down his cheeks. Logan walked over to him and bent down.

"Hey Roman," Logan whispered softly, knowing by now how to deal with Roman after the brunet had a meltdown. None of his usual big words- that would only make Roman feel stupid and in turn make him feel worse "I had planned to save these for your birthday, but I got you some stickers…"

Roman looked up, his green eyes brightening the slightest of bits. "Stickers?"

"Yes, Ro. They have little crowns on them."

"Crown stickers?" Roman mumbled, his voice rough from his sobbing.

"And they're glittery too."

"Glittery crown stickers?"

"Mmhmm. All yours." Logan gently put the stickers down on the boy's knee. Roman instantly snatched them and turned around.

"Hey now, staying in your dorm and putting stickers on your face isn't the best thing for your mental health-"

"Huh?" Roman turned back around, one of the glittery stickers placed above Roman's nose.

"Oh Newton, ah, let's go for a walk. Fresh air and sunlight are proven to help increase mood." Logan helped Roman up and flashed Patton a nervous smile. "I'll take care of him, don't worry Pat."

Patton flashed him another smile, and Logan saw how Patton was exhausted. Dealing with Roman's meltdowns happened to have that effect on people. Logan knew in a single glance that Patton needed a break from his roommate.

Soon enough, Logan managed to drag Roman outside. "See, Roman? Don't you feel a little better with the sunshine?"

In response, Roman let out what sounded like a hiss."The vitamin D is infecting me."

Logan gave the other boy a small grin, happy that Roman had a least remembered one thing from science. "Then it's doing its job."

"Why am I outside?" Roman whined. "I could be covering my notebooks with pretty crown stickers and crying until the sunsets."

"Hey, hey, no thinking like that. It will only decrease your already unhappy mood. How about we head down to the café, get some smoothies? The fruit in them will make you feel better."

Roman crossed his arms. "Vance dumped me at the café."

Logan paled but immediately responded. "Okay, so I'm going to get us smoothies from somewhere that is most definitely not the café, okay? You stay here and take a moment to relax, okay?

Roman nodded, "Thanks, Lo. You're the best."

Logan nodded and turned away, hoping he had succeeded in hiding his growing blush from the other male. "It's okay, Ro. It's not a problem- it never is, not for you, you being a very good platonic friend." Smooth.  Logan quickly walked away before he could embarrass himself.

"I appreciate it," Roman called out after him, a small smile forming on his lips.

"He likes you." Roman jumped and spun on his heels. A boy was standing on the fountain behind him, his heterochromic eyes meeting Roman's

"Holy goth boy batman- where did you come from?"

"The fiery pits of hell." The way the boy said it, so deadpan, Roman wasn't exactly sure if he was kidding.

"Really?"

"No, I just got out of band practice." The boy said, rolling his eyes. Roman huffed.

"Oh, cool." Roman knew his boy, he just couldn't be a finger on the name… aha! "You're Damien, right? I think we have home ec together?"

"Yup, you're the boy with the stickers."

Roman nodded. "My reputation proceeds me. I'm Roman."

"Roman… I've heard a lot about Roman recently." Damien looked him in the eyes again. "You just got dumped."

Roman winced. "If I did, it was for reasons completely unrelated to stickers."

Damien laughed. "I'm sure. How are you holding up? A broken heart is no small matter."

If he was honest, Roman was surprised that Damien, a boy he'd had about three conversations with, was concerned for his well being. "Me? I'm totally fine! Some people just can't handle me!"

Damien looked unimpressed. "Your eyes are red and your voice keeps cracking."

"Hmpft."

The other boy sighed from his position on the fountain. "You don't think Vance was in love with you?"

Roman huffed. "I never know! People are so annoying! They all lack the ability to communicate properly and show affection-  I wouldn't know if someone liked me if they came up right behind me!"

"Roman!" Roman turned on his heels and saw Logan peeking out a doorway. "I'm aware that your favorite smoothie is-" Logan proceeded to spell out Roman's overly complicated order. "-but is there anything else you need? They have red velvet cupcakes? With rainbow sprinkles? I know that's your favorite."

"Oh, that sounds amazing! Here, I think I have a few dollars-" Roman started to rummage around in his pockets.

"Not necessary, Ro. It's on me."

"Oh, really? Are you sure?"

"Affirmative." Logan ducked back into the café, and Roman turned back to Damien, who had jumped off the fountain and came closer to the brown haired boy.

"Can't show affection?" Damien grumbled.

"Mmhmm! As I was saying, Humans? Brick walls. Every. Single. One. Of. Them. They wouldn't know how to show lo-"

Damien stared at Roman like he was having a hard time processing what Roman was saying. "Riiiight. I think I might have something for you that will help your current…predicament."

"Huh?"

Damien pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket, pulled something off it and stuck it to Roman's cheek. It was another sticker, this one a rather large red heart.

"Damien?  Did you just give me a stic-"

The other boy gave him a smile. "Abracadabra."

Then, Roman proceeded to faint.

.....

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Roman's thoughts were murky as he started to wake up.  What had happened? He had been talking too that senior- Damien!- and Logan had gone out to get smoothies and cupcakes- so why did it feel like Roman was laying against his bed?

Patton's voice woke him up faster. His best friend sounded really worried? Had Remy gotten hurt at Track? Had he found out that Logan still was staying up late studying? Roman opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling. So he was in his dorm.

"Should we take him to the nurse?' Patton fretted, and from what Roman could hear, was pacing.

"For what, a broken heart?" That was Remy.

Roman sat up and groaned, directing both boys’ attention to him. "Kiddo! You're okay!" Patton ran over to his bed and helped Roman up. "You gave us quite the scare, fainting like that! Logan had to carry you all the way to our dorm."

"Yeah, babe, he was really freaked. Totes unusual for him." Remy took a sip of his drink.

Roman squinted at his friends. There was something off here… oh, wait… that was new…

"Why are there stars above your heads? And that's a heart?" There were indeed stars and hearts above his friends' heads: four gold stars floating over Patton's, and three gold stars and one red heart over Remy's. Roman blinked a few times, but the images were still there. In the corners of his vision, he noticed something else. In the bottom left corner, there was a red and gold circle with the words: Roman, Level One cutting through it. In the top right, was a similar circle with the words: Dorms and Evening cutting through it.

What was happening?

Remy looked up but apparently could not see that floating images above his head. Patton looked two, and at the same time both boys muttered, "Oh, Roman.."

"And what's with this border thing? I'm on level one? What?" Roman shook his head a few times, trying to shake it off. "It's all around my vision- I can't get rid of it!"

"Ro, calm down! You probably hit your head when you fainted, It's okay." Patton, on his tippy-toes, placed his hands on his friend's shoulders. "Breathe, okay?"

Roman nodded and took a few, long breaths. The stars, heart and the weird border were still there.

"Roman, hun, we good now?" Remy asked. Roman simply nodded, even though he was most definitely not good.

There was a knocking on the door, and Patton removed his hands and went to answer it. "That's probably Lo! He went to get you some ibuprofen!"

Sure enough, it was Logan, carrying a little bottle in his hand. "Roman, I see you've woken up. You had me nervous for a bit there."

"Nervous isn't the word I'd use," Remy mumbled into his drink.

Roman sucked in a breath. "Logan?"

"Yes, that is my name." Logan turned to Patton. "Is he okay?"

Patton sighed. "It's been a long day, we're going to cut Ro some slac-"

"That's a lot of hearts." Roman blurted, because, in fact, floating over Logan's head were three gold stars and four red hearts.

"Hearts? Roman, do you require-" Logan continued to talk, but Roman subconsciously blocked him out. He raised his head to his cheek, and it rested on the sticker Damien had given him: the red heart.

[virmillion]

Ibytm - T minus 7 seconds

Masterpost - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter - ao3

Words: 3,964

Logan cracks his knuckles, his elbows propped on the arms of a chair near the middle of the presentation room. Across the table from him, Joy doodles absently in the margins of her notebook. Logan is pretty sure that if Cassidy weren’t there to subtly turn the page for her, the flowers and floating eyes would crawl off the pages and etch themselves into the surface of the table. Director Gazebo paces at the head of the room, smacking a remote against his palm and muttering under his breath. It’s been something like five minutes since he last successfully switched slides, and all delusions of focus and interest have completely melted away. Even Miss Katie-Lee, who was helping hand out papers and fill in pieces of information for the director, is playing something on her phone with vague disinterest. Logan wonders whether she might just fall asleep right where she stands.

Logan, on the other hand, absolutely cannot force himself to look disinterested in anything the director does, ever. Not with that meeting from a couple weeks ago still weighing on his mind. Instead, he does his best to look like he’s taking detailed notes in his pocket notebook, glancing around the room as if deep in thought. He takes careful stock every few seconds of the impossibly high number of important people in here. The absolutely quintessential ‘who’s who’ of this branch—Joy and Miss Katie-Lee, of course, but also Mx. Oatmeal, Cassidy and her independent focus advisor, the directors of the individual satellite branches floating nearby, those inexplicable people in nice suits that follow Director Gazebo everywhere, even the notoriously good-looking folks that are always sweeping in and out of Miss Katie-Lee’s office. Oh, and who could forget Roman?

Logan could.

Logan would love to do that, in fact.

He’s taken multiple steps to prove to the director just how much he wants this, despite how wrong it feels to be slacking off to improve—talking about non-work things with Cassidy and Alex, getting to know the fifth floor interns (even though they aren’t technically on the fifth floor anymore), helping those same interns with their work and genuinely enjoying it rather than it being revision out of obligation, even trying to be more open with Virgil about what’s going on inside his head. He hasn’t quite gotten the hang of that last one yet, but it’s not like the director ever sees him do it—or not do it, as the case usually tends to be. He tries, though. They both do.

The biggest risk—talking to Roman—is one he really isn’t looking forward to. He hasn’t even tried yet, actually. Probably explains why Roman is in the far back corner of the room, whispering with Alex.

Logan isn’t doing very well at pretending to be taking notes, in case that wasn’t obvious.

Finally, the remote in the director’s hand buzzes to life, shuffling the presentation to the last slide. Miss Katie-Lee moves next to him and peers over his shoulder, pointing at one of the buttons and nodding. A sigh of relief (or maybe it’s annoyance—Logan isn’t great at gauging that sort of thing) ripples through the room when the slideshow cycles back to the top, displaying a picture of a rocket preparing to launch.

The director gives Miss Katie-Lee a smile and nod before turning to address the room. “What craft was this?”

Logan doesn’t bother raising his hand, merely calling out the name in unison with the rest of the room. “Vanguard TV3.”

“And on what historic date did this craft fail two seconds after launch?”

“December sixth, nineteen fifty-seven.” It’s more of an automatic response on Logan’s part than a concentrated effort to access the trivia from its overflowing file tucked away in a secure corner of his mind. The director nods his approval and moves on to the next slide, and Logan is pretty sure the better part of his room-sweeping gaze centers on him. He sits up straighter.

“Good start, folks. Now, back to basics—roughly how long would it take for a spacecraft to reach the moon?” Wow, really back to basics. He wasn’t kidding.

“Three days.” Even Logan has to admit, it does sound just the slightest bit creepy, everyone answering in monotonous unison like this.

The director clicks over to the next slide, which proudly declares the words ‘speed round’ in times new roman. The font yanks Logan’s thoughts toward Roman without his consent, and he again thinks about how unjustly cold he’s been to the guy lately. Hardly a word between them, aside from the usual obligatory greetings. Maybe that ought to be his next risk, resolving that whole situation. Certainly one of the more unnerving ideas he’s entertained.

“Alright, everyone, speed round time. How many miles to the moon?”

“240,000.”

“In kilometers?”

The briefest of pauses. “386,400.”

“Largest crew aboard a spacecraft to date?”

“Eight.”

“Why do we want to minimize travel time for human astronauts?”

“Space has harmful radiation.” Okay, so that one wasn’t quite so perfectly in unison, and various other answers tried to break through, but the general idea does manage to echo around the room.

“Of the nearly two hundred planet-orbiting moons in our solar system, in which place is our moon with regards to size?”

“Fifth largest.”

“Latin word for its highlands?”

“Maria.”

“Meaning?”

“Seas.”

“How many nations have landed on the moon?”

“Three.” The word five also bounces around, but Logan is in the former party.

“Okay, who did it first?”

“The United States.” This, too, has a second answer making a valiant effort—Neil Armstrong, obviously. Again, Logan is in the former group.

“When?”

This one, interestingly enough, prompts two very distinct answers. One sizeable group, to which Logan is party, gives the predictable answer of July twentieth, nineteen sixty-nine, but one (much smaller) group says something incredibly different.

“Wow, I didn’t realize this very important meeting was just gonna be a history lesson.”

Not a valid nor correct answer, in case that wasn’t clear.

Logan, along with pretty much every other superior in the room, swivels in his seat to stare at Roman, who still leans against the wall at the far back of the room. Beside him, Alex looks like they’re doing everything they can to feign not having heard him.

Roman shrugs and raises his eyebrows, tilting his head toward the director. “It’s a valid question. Nobody in this room’s an idiot, we all passed our college courses, gen eds and otherwise, we all took the entrance exams, we’ve all done the work to get here. Not to step out of line or anything, but this is all grade school stuff. Seems kinda dumb to be quizzing us on stuff anyone with a working internet connection could figure out.”

Logan debates whether this would be a good time to work on one of those risks he’s been dealing with by striding to the back of the room and smacking Roman across the face. The director stiffens, but Logan can’t tell whether it’s agitation or impressed satisfaction.

“Does anyone else agree with Roman’s perspective?”

There’s a few quiet mumbles and the odd cough or sniffle, but no one speaks up. Logan flinches when the director’s eyes land on him, but again, there’s something behind those eyes he can’t trace. When the director doesn’t look away, the idea of screaming crosses Logan’s mind. Risk. Risk. You are not special simply for doing your job. You need to go above and beyond if you want to achieve the dream you claim you have, despite all evidence pointing to the contrary.

Logan clears his throat and raises his hand, and honest to god, the room falls silent. Even Joy’s scribbling pen halts. The director nods at him to speak, at the same moment that Logan finds his heart standing at the edge of a bottomless pit. It jumps over.

“He makes a good point.” The director lifts his chin, but says nothing. “We already know all of this information, given how easily we can answer it on a dime, and you’ve gathered up most of the higher profile people in this branch, not to mention the ones around it. It seems counterintuitive to waste their time with the basics when they could be working toward something more concrete, rather than an eighth grade science test review.” Logan literally bites his tongue when he closes his mouth, belatedly realizing he just told the literal head of his career that his meeting is a waste of Logan’s time. Too big of a risk, perhaps, but there’s certainly no taking it back now. He also belatedly realizes his arm is still in the air, so he yanks it down with his other hand.

There’s a beat of silence, where not even Joy dares look at Logan. Logan swallows and turns his eyes toward the ground, feeling Roman’s gaze burning daggers into his back. Does this count toward resolving the little spat he never bothered explaining to Roman? Hell, Roman might not even know Logan was mad—for all he’s been told, Logan just decided out of nowhere to start talking to the interns. Logan should’ve just kept with the mediocrity, should’ve stayed within arm’s reach of his safety net, should’ve learned to grit his teeth and bear it while Roman prattled on, completely oblivious to how much better he was than Logan.

“Roman and Logan,” the director finally says. “You two stay. Everyone else, you’re excused.”

The remaining people cannot possibly get out of the room fast enough. It’s concentrated chaos as they scramble to gather their respective belongings and rush the door, a bunch of space enthusiasts who would probably rather be on literal Neptune right now than in this room. Come to think of it, Neptune doesn’t sound too bad to Logan, either. He sinks back into his chair and wills himself to be smaller, wills Roman to ignore him and just stay—

Roman takes the seat directly beside Logan. “Thanks for the assist,” he says under his breath, elbowing Logan gently. Logan smiles weakly at his own fists, clenched tightly in his lap, and wonders if this is the last time these hands will be employed by NASA. Wondering if this is finally it, if the director has had enough of Logan’s pathetic attempts to take risks, has finally decided to do away with Logan entirely, to let him fade into obscurity as some guy who coded a coffee delivery app with a gimmicky name.

Director Gazebo stares long and hard at the both of them, and probably has been for a while now—not that Logan would know the difference, having only just looked up from his hands. There’s something behind the mask of calm in the director’s face, just like there always is, and just like always, it’s something Logan can’t quite comprehend, something he isn’t sure he wants to comprehend. When he opens his mouth, Logan’s heart finally finds itself at the bottom of that bottomless pit.

“Are either of you aware of how long it would take mankind to reach Neptune?”

An unexpected starting point, to be sure, but at least it’s something Logan is prepared for. “It took Voyager 2 about twelve years in the eighties.”

“Voyager 2 was unmanned,” Roman adds. “None of that extra weight for people or provisions, so that probably maybe definitely influenced that time.”

“Why?” Logan asks. It’s always been one of his favorite questions, to tell the truth. He wonders whether the director feels the same. Then he wonders whether the director realizes he means ‘why ask about Neptune,’ not ‘why would weight influence travel time.’ Then he wonders whether the director knows he wonders this.

“As only Voyager 2 has managed to make it that far—and beyond, in fact—there is still a good deal of things we’ve yet to learn from Neptune, like why it has such high winds, or why its magnetic field is offset, not to mention that there’s been another Great Dark Spot since the one in eighty-nine.” Okay, so at least it was clear what Logan was asking.

“I’m still not totally clear on why this matters,” Roman admits. Logan sighs quietly, relieved that someone in this room had the nerve to voice the general fears floating lazily through the air. “I mean, it’s got nothing to do with the moon, which is supposedly why you called the meeting, right?”

“It’s got everything to do with the moon,” the director corrects. He steps away from the projection screen and begins pacing the room, waving his hands about like frantic hummingbirds to emphasize his points—provided he actually makes any. “The moon is the closest celestial body to our planet, so everything with a greater distance than that can be expanded upon based on its relative distance and size compared to the moon. If we learned to walk with the moon, we can run with Mars, and we could fly with Neptune.”

“I’m not sure I follow,” Logan says, feeling like it’s been a little too long since he’s spoken up. Regardless, his words seem to roll off the director’s hunched shoulders as he continues pacing, unperturbed.

“Twelve years is a long time, not to mention the additional weight for the food and crew, and the emotional and mental tolls on the passengers and their families, as it would be a minimum twenty-five year round trip—that’s a quarter of what a layman considers his life span. But if we could cut that down, shave off a few years from either end, move from here to there as if we were taking but a single step…” The director trails off with his hands frozen in front of his face, fingers not quite touching, so stiff they almost tremble. “Imagine how much we could gain from that. Just—just imagine it.”

“Do you mean in terms of Einstein’s and Rosen’s theory of general relativity?” Logan’s voice is laced with disbelief. Einstein-Rosen bridges, wormholes, whatever you want to call them, it’s all theoretical, and all just the slightest bit terrifying. Two mouths at either end of an imaginary throat, from point A to point B in moments, microscopic and unstable. Just imagine it? Sure, just imagine the likelihood of the wormhole destabilising under the effect of exotic matters and spitting out the passengers to who knows where.

Logan, if you couldn’t tell, is not particularly fond of the idea of wormholes, much less black holes. His concerns are usually (to his relief) unfounded, since whoever is crazy enough to look for wormholes hasn’t been successful in their endeavours. Not yet.

“But that’s only assuming you actually can fold the space,” Roman protests, yanking Logan out of his own mind. Apparently they didn’t care to wait for Logan to process the absurdity of it all before continuing the conversation.

“But who says we can’t? ” Director Gazebo shoots back.

“Who said anything about we?” Roman’s voice is incredulous and maybe, just maybe, a little bit excited. Good excited or bad excited, though, Logan has no idea.

“Well, me, just now, for one.” The director starts pacing again, ticking off numbers on his fingers as he goes. “Katie-Lee also vouched for the idea, as well as some of the directors at the floater branches—most of them report to Kennedy, anyway, so I’m sitting pretty high and dry here, and they all went for the idea. Logan, any valuable input here?”

Logan blinks, not prepared to be included. Not yet. “I, um, no?” Then he wonders whether the director heard ‘I, um, no,’ or ‘I, um, know.’

“Well, you can hardly fault me for asking. I mean, after that presentation you gave, not to mention the increasing quality of your work lately, I assumed you’d be desperate to make your case for this mission.”

“What mission?”

Roman shoots Logan a look, and Logan wonders just how long he was tuned out of the conversation. Too long, apparently.

“Why, Mission Neptune, of course.” At that, Logan is viscerally reminded of the conductor from that time Virgil forced him to watch The Polar Express. The director, at least, doesn’t seem put off in the slightest by Logan’s mental absence. He whips out a pen and scrawls something on his forearm, mumbling under his breath, “We really need to come up with a better name for that.”

“I—you’re planning a mission to Neptune?” It’s not even worth it for Logan to try to keep the shock out of his voice.

Roman, miracle of miracles, recovers much quicker than Logan. Probably because he’s been paying attention. “Okay, cool, but why did you still say we? Why did you only keep me and Logan behind?”

“Logan and me,” Logan murmurs. At least if his basic conversational skills continue to fail him, he’ll always have ironclad grammar to fall back on. On which to fall back, whatever.

“You want to go into space, do you not?”

“Absolutely.” In sharp contrast with Logan’s immediacy and certainty is Roman’s loud silence. Logan gives him a quizzical look.

“I’m not saying I don’t,” Roman finally huffs, “but I’m not saying I do, either. There’s way too many things that could go wrong for this to be a spur of the moment hell yes type response, y’know?”

Logan tries very hard (by which he means a normal amount) not to look smug as the director stares at Roman in shock. So much for a guy who’s great because he broadens his horizons. As soon as the prideful thought crosses Logan’s mind, he shakes his head to get rid of it—tearing down his friend won’t do anything for his own career, much less his own humanity. Another, much scarier thought crosses Logan’s mind next: He just internally referred to Roman as his friend.

Logan really ought to start paying better attention when conversations are happening around him between very smart people who don’t think to wait for him to catch up.

“Just keep an eye on your inboxes, alright?” The director stops pacing at the door and tugs it open, gesturing for the two to take their leave.

“Give us a minute,” Roman says, remaining firmly in his seat. The director purses his lips and wrinkles his nose, but he does go, leaving the room blissfully empty in the absence of his commanding presence.

Roman turns to Logan and cocks his head to the side. “Alright, my dude, I’ve known you for basically a lifetime now.”

“Five years, max.”

“Same difference. Anyway, I’ve known you a while, yeah? So I know what your face looks like when you’re zoning out, ’cause you’ve got way too much going on up in that head of yours. How much do I need to fill you in on, so you aren’t totally out of your depth when Gazebo brings it up again?”

“A basic rundown would be stellar. I heard that he’s aiming for Neptune, and he’s trying to employ some Wrinkle in Time mechanics to do it. We haven’t even spotted a wormhole yet, Roman. Those things are so small, too, what is he thinking?”

“Probably that he should’ve had Katie-Lee give that promotion to someone who knows how to listen.” Roman laughs as he ducks to avoid Logan swatting at his head. “Hey, hey, this is neutral territory! Anyway, he said he was stuck on the moon stuff with his presentation ’cause he doesn’t want to go talking to the whole building and company and all about it, but he thinks he found a way to straight up manufacture a wormhole, and he wants to test that with an outwardly routine trip to the moon. Manufacture his demon wormhole or whatever, and if it works, great, and if not, well, it’s just the moon, so we won’t be too far, anyway. Doesn’t really add up that he’d call it Mission Neptune if he’s trying to hide it, but whatever.”

“And he told us this why?”

“Because I’m such a motor mouth that most people have learned to just tune me out by now, or assume I’m spouting total nonsense. You, on the other hand, he knows you’ve got your whole deal with that lifelong dream of getting off the planet or whatever, so obviously you wouldn’t go spreading the details, not at the risk of someone else taking your spot on the ship.”

“He told you all that?”

“Context clues. I’m very smart.”

Logan blows a puff of air through his nose and stares at his hands again, picturing them at the helm of a literal console in a literal rocketship on its way to literal Neptune. “Be pretty hard to cover up supplies for a mission to Neptune when you want it to look like a routine trip to the moon.”

“Why else would he hint at sending follow-up emails? Not to mention, if the wormhole situation shortens the trip, we wouldn’t need much more than a normal moon mission, anyway.” Roman scoots his chair closer and pushes his face right up into Logan’s. “You’re really off your game today, y’know that? Is it ’cause you suddenly decided to start talking to me again?”

“Something like that.” Logan checks his watch, weighing the merits of continuing to talk here versus returning to their desks. If nothing else, the director hasn’t returned to yell at them yet, so that’s something. Logan inhales a couple seconds longer than he needs to, blows it all out in one big breath, and explains to Roman the situation regarding his new risk-taking self. He even adds how, all along, Roman has been the true superior, much as it shreds Logan’s heart to say it. At least now Roman has proof that he’s as good as he thinks he is. What use is pride if left uncorroborated, right?

“Okay, well that’s dumb, so we’re not gonna talk about that nonsense garbage ever again,” Roman says, shaking his head. “I mean, really? Me better than you? Obviously I’m just socializing, and that definitely shows in the few papers where I’ve actually tried. He probably just wanted to push you over the edge so you would be more involved and engaged, more likely to help with his whole Neptune shebang.”

“That’s a good mission name,” Logan mumbles. He expertly ignores everything else Roman said. “Neptune Shebang.”

“No, it really isn’t. Do you even want to do it?”

“I mean, obviously I do, it’s all I’ve ever wanted, ever , but there’s still…” Logan lets his voice trail off, picturing Virgil’s face. Picturing Virgil sat on the couch in front of the television, watching Logan blast off the planet in a storm of fire and gasoline, leaving Virgil over two billion miles behind him, in the plain old Earth dust. “I don’t know. I used to know, but I think what I knew changed somewhere along the way.”

“Makes sense.” Roman pushes his hands against his knees and bounces to his feet, then crooks his elbow to the side. Logan accepts the gesture, rising with Roman’s assistance and following him to the door. “I mean, it’s not like you have to know if you’re going right this second. You don’t even know if you’ll get chosen for it. Maybe they switch around the requirements or knock down the capacity or something, and they just bump you out of the running because you’re needed on Earth or they’re afraid you have the measles or something. Hell, they could deny the mission request altogether. Whatever happens, you definitely don’t have to make any major decisions about it just yet.”

Logan nods to himself as the door clicks shut behind them. Eventually, he very well have to make that choice. But not yet.

[swanqueeneverafter]

After The Sunset, Pt.34

Enchanted Forest. Royal Castle. Dungeons. Present. (Emma sits in her cell with her back against the wall, picking at the magic-blocking cuff on her wrist.) The Land Without Magic. Past. 2001. Portland. (Outside a deserted amusement park, a young Emma Swan is waiting for someone. After a while, Neal Cassidy approaches her carrying one coffee to go in each hand.) Emma: “When you said you owed me a drink, I thought you meant in a place like a bar. A restaurant. Or some place with, you know, chairs.” Neal: “Patience. I’ve got something better in mind. Here. Hold this.” (He hands Emma his coffee. Neal kneels down. Using his tools he attempts to open the locked door.) Emma: (Watching him:) “What the hell are you doing?” Neal: “Tumblers. It’s all about the tumblers. (Neal succeeds and opens the door:) Come on. It’s worth it. I promise. (They enter. Neal switches on the carousel’s lights:) What did I tell ya?” Emma: “Yeah, alright. It’s pretty cool.” Neal: “Come on. (They climb onto the carousel:) Hop on.” (Emma sits down and Neal takes a seat in front of her:) Emma: “So, what’s your story, Neal?” Neal: “That’s an interesting choice of words. My ‘story’ is that I left a screwed up situation and that kind of screwed me up.” Emma: “Crappy home life? I get that.” Neal: “Nah, it wasn’t always. It... that’s the problem. It was really great once.” Emma: “So, why don’t you go back to try and fix it?” Neal: “I can’t really go back. It’s my father.” Emma: “Bad guy?” Neal: “Not at first. But he changed. That’s when things got really crazy. But before that? It was home. It was nice. That’s how you know you’ve really got a home: ‘Cause when you leave it, there’s that feeling that you can’t shake. You just miss it.”

Enchanted Forest. Present. The Royal Chapel. (Regina is led into the room by two guards. She has a hood over her head and Henry is waiting for her.) Henry: “Let's play a little game, ‘Your Majesty.’ Do you remember this place, what you did here?” (Regina’s hood is removed and she looks around.) Regina: “This is where I first declared I would cast the Dark Curse.” Henry: “At my grandparents' wedding, no less. Pretty bold.” Regina: “Henry, that was ancient history. We’re all family now. (Scoffs:) Your grandparents officiated my wedding here for goodness sake. To your other mother, no less.” Henry: “Clever. Rumplestiltskin said you’d be convincing.” Regina: “I am not who you think I am. And I am not the Evil Queen anymore.” Henry: (Clearly not listening:) “Tell me, was revenge everything you'd hoped it would be?” Regina: “Henry, snap out of it!” (When Regina tries to approach her son, the two guards draw their swords and block her path.) Henry: “Don't mind them. They're just here to make sure you don't show us all your true colours. Not that you'd get that far wearing that cuff on your wrist. No magic, remember?” Regina: (Sighs:) “Look I’m here to help you. The person you think is Rumple is using you.” Henry: “Oh you’re very good. But I know you’re not real. Grandpa created this world to show me what my true path could be.” Regina: “Listen to me! This isn’t some game or another realm! Emma and I have come to take you home.” Henry: (Approaches:) “Why should I ever trust you?” Regina: “Because I am your mother. And I can't bear to let anything happen to you. Even if we were in another realm, this isn’t you. You are brave and kind. And when life gets hard, you always do the right thing. You've saved so many people. Hell, you've saved me. Please. (Squeezing his hand:) Please, let me save you now.” Henry: (Watches her for a moment, before grabbing her arm, sneering:) “I don't need to be saved.” Regina: (Henry slices her palm with his dagger:) “Aaah!” Henry: “Consider that a reminder that in this realm, stories are written in blood and tears. And now they'll be written in yours. We fight tomorrow. And I'll finally have my happy ending.” (Henry leaves the room.)

Inside The Snow Globe. (Hook and Rumplestiltskin try desperately to break the glass from the inside.) Rumplestiltskin: "Our spirit's gonna break long before that glass. The Jabberwocky stripped me of my powers. (Slumps to the ground:) So I can neither escape, nor stop her." Hook: "From doing what?" Rumplestiltskin: "Well, that's the question. With Henry under her thrall, she will use his Author powers to hurt anyone she can and drag us all into the darkness where she wallows." Hook: "Seems like wallowing is something you have in common." Rumplestiltskin: "Excuse me?" Hook: "Look, you may have given up, but I haven't. We should try another area. There must be a weak spot." Rumplestiltskin: "There's that unshakable determination, however misguided." Hook: "Well, since, according to you, we're facing certain death, there's something I've always wondered. Given the amount of power that you once held, how come you never used it to destroy me?" Rumplestiltskin: "Because... you were the closest thing I ever had to a friend. (There's a noise behind them and they turn to see the cause:) What the hell is that?" Hook: (Walking over to the fishhook:) "It's our salvation. It's Maui's Hook!" Rumplestiltskin: (Getting to his feet:) "Well where did it come from?" Hook: (Smiling:) "I have a good hunch. Let me see if I'm right." (Hook swings the fishhook at the glass and it cracks. Swinging once more, the glass breaks, sending the snow outwards and freeing them from their prison.)

Dark Castle. (The room fills with dozens of freed captives, including Belle, Zelena, Aladdin, Jasmine, Ruby, Mulan, Tiana and Will. Hook looks over at their saviors Alice and Robin, then finally to Maleficent.) Hook: (Smiling:) "I knew it was your magic that saved us. Without you, we'd all be dead." Maleficent: (Rolling her eyes:) "Don't make me regret my decision." Zelena: "Hey, where are Emma and Regina? Please tell me they're with you." Robin: (Steps forward and hands her something:) "We found this nailed to a tree right when we got here." Zelena: (Unfurls the scroll and begins to read:) "Come see King Henry defeat the Anti-Savior and the Evil Queen at dawn?" Jasmine: "Looks like we've got another rescue mission to mount."

Zelena: "And we'd better hurry. Seems the Jabberwocky's really done a number on Henry." Rumplestiltskin: "Yeah, we're going to handle it, but Belle, I need you to get our son to safety." Belle: "No, Rumple, I want to help." Rumplestiltskin: "I understand that, but the best thing you can do now is make sure you and Gideon are safe. In fact that goes for most of you. Your people need you back where you belong. They need reassurance that everything's going to be all right." Aladdin: "Yeah, but will it?" Hook: "Rumplestiltskin's right. The people need their leaders, now more than ever." Zelena: "Well I'm not going anywhere, not when Emma and Regina are in danger." Robin: "We're staying too." Alice: (Nods:) "Yeah." Hook: (Looks to Maleficent:) "Mal, do you think you could..." Maleficent: (Sighs:) "Fine. But this hero thing is becoming entirely too much work." (Maleficent waves her hand, enveloping the room in a cloud of smoke. Leaving only Hook, Alice & Robin, Zelena and Rumplestiltskin to remain.) Rumplestiltskin: "Well, now that's sorted, I'm gonna search the castle to find something to deal with the Jabberwocky." Royal Chapel. (Henry sits waiting on the dais, staring at the bloody dagger when the Jabberwocky enters.) Henry: "Where have you been?" Jabberwocky: "Don't get your crown in a twist, Dearie. I've been writing a new spell." (With a flick of her wrist, a storybook appears at her feet.) Henry: (As the Jabberwocky approaches:) "That doesn't look like a spell. It looks like a storybook." Jaberwocky: "Well, uh, aren't spells just stories of a kind? After all, they're both merely words on a page. Until you give them something more." (The Jabberwocky hands Henry the Author's pen.) Henry: (Taking the quill:) "And I need magic ink to do so." Jabberwocky: "I’m well aware." Henry: "You found a loophole." Jabberwocky: "Well, you did, Dearie. Th-That little stain on your knife. The Queen's blood, I presume? (Henry shrugs:) Marvelous. Now the test. (Turns, calling:) Bring in the sprite! (Chuckles as two guards escort the Blue Fairy into the room:) When looking for expendable guinea pigs for questionable experiments, always mine the fairies.”

Henry: (Stands:) “So, that's why you needed the Queen's blood? To torture a fairy?” Jabberwocky: “No. The Queen's blood was mere motivation. What I really needed was your blood... to boil. Emotions run strong in Authors. Highly potent.” Henry: “So, you think my emotions can power your spell?” Jabberwocky: “Well, there's only one way to find out. Close your eyes. (Moves to stand behind him:) Now I want you to hold that knife, feel its cold blade. Now think back. Remember how it felt to cause your enemy pain, to spill her blood? (Suddenly, the book’s pages blow open and a portal appears behind the Blue Fairy, drawing her towards it:) Excellent. (The Blue Fairy is pulled inside the portal and vanishes. The storybook on the floor closes:) That was really impressive. You've got great darkness in you, Dearie.” Henry: (Glancing down at the dagger:) “Where's the fairy?” Jabberwocky: “Trapped in a prison made just for her. Don't you just love a happy ending? (Chuckles:) And soon, (Conjures dozens of more storybooks into the room:) every hero from every realm shall suffer the same fate. Each one drowning in their own isolation and loneliness. (Takes a seat on a stack of books:) Once you kill your final two challenges, their fates will be sealed.”

Outside The Royal Castle. (Hook and Robin stand hidden amongst the trees. Hook uses his eyeglass to scout the number of guards protecting the perimeter.) Robin: “Look, I'm pretty good with a bow, but that is a lot of bad guys.” Hook: “We just have to create a diversion so that the others can sneak Zelena in to rescue Regina and Emma.” Robin: (Draws an arrow from her quiver:) “Right. You ready for this?” Hook: “Aye. (Steps out on the road leading to the castle. The guards see him and draw their swords. Yelling, Hook charges:) Arghhh!” (Meanwhile, Zelena and Alice make their way to the outside entrance of the dungeons.) Dungeons. (Regina and Emma sit chained to the walls. Emma is bandaging Regina's hand.) Regina: "My own son wants me dead." Emma: "No, he doesn't. He's just had his mind twisted by that white-haired witch." Regina: (Shaking her head:) "He doesn't see me as his mother." Emma: "He didn't want to see me at all. I don't know what's worse." Regina: (Wincing:) "You want a gash carved into your hand? There are plenty of pointy rocks around here, be my guest." (Emma chuckles, despite herself.) Emma: “Remember when we met? And Henry thought of you as a villain?” Regina: “Back then I was a villain.” Emma: “Yeah, I never got that vibe. I mean, you were a force to be reckoned with don’t get me wrong, but evil? Nah.” Regina: “What about when the curse broke and you found out all of Henry’s stories about me were true?” Emma: "Hey, I'm not gonna lie and say that the revelation didn't sting. But back then, even if you had tried to tell me the truth, I probably would've just thought you were trying to end things, to push me away." Regina: (Nods:) "I've never really asked you this before but, it took you a lot longer to forgive your parents than you did me. Why is that, do you think?" Emma: (Takes a deep breath:) "Before the curse broke I got to know you. I got to know the woman behind the mayor. I got to see how you were with Henry and how your eyes would light up every time he entered a room. I saw how things could've been so much different." Regina: (Confused:) "How do you mean?" Emma: "Well, lemme ask you a question. If the roles had been reversed, do you think you would've ever sent your infant daughter into that wardrobe?" Regina: (Taken aback:) "Emma, I... I put your parents in an impossible situation." Emma: "But would you have done it?" Regina: (Stares at her a moment:) "No. No, I would’ve held on to you with every ounce of strength that I had." Emma: (Nods:) "For the longest time, I blamed them for the choice they made. I lost ten years with my son because I didn't think I had the strength to raise him on my own. It wasn't fair to them, but that's how I felt." Regina: "Oh Emma, I'm so sorry." Emma: (Shakes her head:) "It's in the past. (Wiping her eyes:) You know, back when the curse broke, Henry was the first one that knew you could move to the light.” Regina: “You and Henry were the ones who got me there.” Emma: “No. No, we only helped. You did the work. And so must Henry. We can help him, too. We can show him it's possible to come back from this. Our lives are proof that no one's path is set.” Zelena: (Standing outside their cell:) "Do you two need a few minutes or shall I rescue you now?" Regina: (Getting to her feet:) "Zelena!" Zelena: "Sorry, sis, I would've been here sooner but the Jabberwocky took my amulet when she captured me. I had to get here the old fashioned way." (When Zelena reaches for the keys on the wall, a sword blocks her path.) Emma: "Please! Don't hurt her." (The guard is about to run Zelena through when he is shot in the back by an arrow. As the guard falls to the ground, two more run forward.) Zelena: "Who are you?" Snow White: (She and David remove their helmets:) "We're family." Emma: (Through the bars:) "Mom! Dad!" Regina: "Oh thank god." David: "Looks like you've all kept yourselves busy since we've been gone."