#that's just called being a sugar daddy ffs

[ctrlsht]

I want to request a ff. can you make yandere CEO sugar daddy jungkook ff? if you are accepting my request then please don't make yn the typical humble sweet innocent girl who gots herself into that situation just because her dear mom or grandma is on verge of dying and she doesn't have any money so she took that path to save them. no please make her character different. Like a spoiled brat and arrogant girl who wanna have lavish life and power forever and takes advantage of the fact of having powerful handsome most sought after man on her side. kinda gold digger type but not really since she doesn't want to leave him and she actually enjoys his obsession/yandereness until it gets too much. I want to actually see kinda negative female lead than typical positive character? Doesn't really have to be negative just bitchy kinda toxic demanding clingy character etc.

Btw i loved your ffs who is in control and seat of power. I hope you keep making more yandere Jungkook ffs in future. I hope to see more of your ffs in future. You have already become one of my fav author in Tumblr 🩷

Don’t Blame Me | sugar daddy!jungkook one-shot au teaser

pairing: sd!jungkook x reader genre: one-shot & yandere au

summary: You can have everything you want and need as long as you have Jeon Jungkook by your side. You were enjoying everything that Jungkook gives you and as long as you obey him. You’re sure to yourself that you will never fail him but he was the one who failed you. Everything is fine until he gets too much. 

content  & warnings: sugar daddy & ceo jk, college reader, manipulative behavior, unhealthy behavior, possessive & obsessive jk, yandere, bitchy reader, jk sabotaging reader’s career

date of release: June 12, 2023 | evening (KST)

Preview:

“Baby.” Is the first thing he said after a long silence between the two of you.

“A-are you… Mad?” He asked in his low and soft voice like he really sounded guilty from what he just did. 

“What was that, Jungkook?” You finally spoke and annoyance is evident in your voice. 

“Baby, I’m sorry. I just want us to have our dinner because we haven’t done it for weeks already.” His voice was still low and soft just like a child that was scrolled by his mom. 

He doesn’t like it when you’re mad. It rarely happens but when you did, he felt like he did really something terrible for you to get this angry. 

“It was our due date this week, Jungkook and we’re not yet done with our paper. We still have a lot of things to do and I don’t understand why you can’t understand it.” 

He’s getting anxious with how your voice sounds. You’re so pissed and he immediately regrets the actions he just did. 

You sound like you hate him now and that you regret being with him. It’s like any minute, you would open your door and leave him alone. 

By just thinking about it makes him crazy. 

He held your hands and placed them on his lips and you can feel his hands shaking.

“Y/N baby I’m sorry! I’ll promise that I’ll be the one to finish all your works I swear. You already knew that those things are only a piece of cake for me and I can finish that in no time I promise!” He speaks so fast and you feel his anxiousness within his shaking voice and hands. 

“I acted without thinking. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” He added as he intertwined his fingers with yours and his lips touched the back of your hand.

He’s too scared that he has to feel you right now in order to calm his nerves because when he doesn't, you might drift away from him. 

“But seriously, Jungkook. What was that?” You asked after a long silence. 

The more that you call him by his name, the more anxious he gets because you don’t call him only by his name. 

“When I read your message—

“I thought you didn’t read them?” He looked at you in your eyes and he bites his lips. 

“I lied. I’m sorry.” He admits and you become more confused with his actions. You don’t understand what’s with him. 

“Baby, I'm uneasy and I felt that something is not right and I saw your location and I saw the guy and I don’t know, I feel like my heart will explode! Babe, I can’t sit well because you’ve been declining my invites multiple times and I don’t know what’s happening and I’m overthinking things.”

Even though he talks too fast, you understand where he’s coming from. You’ve seen this before and you know the reason why this is happening.

“So you thought that I ditched you for Yuan?” You asked, trying to hide your smile. 

“Who’s Yuan?” When he asked that, you immediately cracked up.

“Baby, who’s Yuan?” He asked once again.

“The guy I’m with. Jungkook, what the heck!” You can’t take it as you laugh so hard. 

“Babe, why are you—

“You’re getting jealous of someone you forgot! Who’s not going to laugh at that?” You speak in between your laughs. 

Your laughs continued until you realized that he doesn’t find the situation funny. Your laugh slowly fades when you see how serious he is. 

“I was just kidding! Why so serious, Ggukie?” You spoke and you clung to his arm. You still find the situation funny and you tried your best not to laugh since he’s being serious.

After  a few moments, he spoke. 

“Did you really… Ditch me?” He asked in his low and soft voice and you instantly looked at him in horror while you shook your head.

“Of course not! Why would I do that?” You respond in defense. He looked at your eyes trying to see the sincerity of your words but he’s having a hard time finding it. He looked away as he looked down and you took a deep breath.

“Babe, look at me.” You caressed his face as you moved his head to look at you. His eyes glow in the dark and you love how pleading his eyes look. 

“I understand where you’re coming from but believe me when I say that whenever I decline your invites is because I really do have to finish something. Babe, you know how I value my academics and I am aiming for a latin honor. You know that right?” You brushed your thumb off his cheek and he closed his eyes to feel your touch. 

“And Yuan? He’s just a research partner and nothing else. And please, don’t be insecure because of him. He’s nothing compared to you. And I don’t like him either.” You lean forward to kiss his forehead. 

“Don’t you ever think that I would ever like him because it’s a fucking insult. I have a standard, babe and he didn’t even meet the 1% of my standard.” You spoke in a demeaning tone before you pushed your back at the backrest. 

a/n: This is the first time that I received a ff request and tbh, I was kinda nervous because I might not meet the expectation of the person who requested it. I write everything based on what the ff requester wants and hopefully, I did it right! It was hard for me to go out of my comfort zone when it comes to writing (what I mean is writing a ff that wasn’t me who plotted it) but I realized, why not try it? To the one who requested this, I hope you’ll like it! 

[justjams2003]

Fast Pace-6

I do apologize to everyone who has been waiting so so long for this. I was shadowbanned and didn't want to upload anything while, because then you guys can't read it :(. But now, you guys can!

Summary: You're a hard-working Chef in Paris and after a freak accident run-in with Carlos Sainz, your life makes a 180. Let's just say with a certain agreement, you get your bills paid and in return stand in as Carlos' girlfriend for the press. But will you be able to handle the pressure and ensure the lines don't blur?

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Carlos Sainz x Sugar Baby!Reader

Warnings: I've aged up Carlos, he is 33 in this fic. Smoking, smut, sexual themes, age difference, manipulation, control, slight obsession, the word 'daddy', tell me if I missed any

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics and @s-silk

Taglist: @httpjeonlicious, @f1lov3r, @messersandmesses, @hollie911, @oriconde08 @thehufflepuffavenger1 @fanboyluvr @thatgirlmj @whyamireadingthis @oriconde08 @depressedriches @roseseraj @skepvids @sain55wifey @distinguishedvoidlady @amatswimming @sachaa-ff @lightdragonrayne @lazybot @dark-night-sky-99 @formula1mount @fangirl-dot-com @saintslewis

Word count: 2,9k

Masterlist

Part 5~Part 7

A loud thunder crack causes a few people in the restaurant's head to snap up to the sky. Including my dear Y/N. Is she scared of thunder? Caco did not tell me this.  

Usually, my mind would immediately worry about the race. How will the rain affect the car? How will the rain affect the track? How the rain affect my driving? Not now, ever since saw her for the first-time racing has been at the far back of my mind. If Caco or any of the Ferrari team knew this, they’d want to get rid of her as soon as possible. But if she has to leave so do I.  

Her big brown eyes look up to me with concern and it just makes me want to wrap her up in my arms and never let go. Now, I worry about her getting wet. She might get sick or slip and fall. I did not bring an umbrella. I bring up my phone and go to dial the driver, but I’m interrupted before I can make the call.  

“What are you doing?” Those delicate brows of hers pull together while she asks me. “I’m calling a driver.” We haven’t finished eating, barely halfway through the meal but I’d kick myself if she develops a cold so soon in my care. There is a twinkle in her eyes and a smile pulls at her cheeks. “Why would you do that?” I can’t help but want to know what she is thinking.  

“I don’t want you to get sick, querida.” I lean forward, wanting to take her hand and caress it, but I’m not sure if she’ll allow me yet. A small laugh, a gentle one, she’s clearly amused with me, escapes her lips. “I’m sure a little rain won’t hurt. I’m not made of sugar.” She shrugs and can’t imagine that someone has such little care for their well-being. Especially someone as valuable as her.  

Consistently, my brow raises. “Care to explain the medical bills I paid then?” Her cheeks light up and her eyes drag down to her shoes again. Now that her hair is down, she insists on hiding behind it. But when her eyes meet me again, she seems to beg for me to forget about it. How could I ever forget anything about her? “In any case, for me you are made candy floss.”  

“You know, that reminds me of a poem. The author of it unknown, some people accredit it to Shakespear but clearly, they did not pay attention in English class if they think that. The true poet is unknown, but some consider it to be Qyazzirah Syeikh Ariffin. He says that you love the rain, but you open your umbrella. You love the sun but hide in the shade. It goes on but later he says that he fears what it means to be loved.”  

Her words are so captivating, and her mind is something that I’d get lost in. The words she speaks, to me it’s like listening to a professor. One who has studied years to know exactly what they are saying. If she was my teacher, I’d get 100%, because I’d cling to her every word. If I could have her talking forever, I’d make sure I will live forever so that I may hear every word.  

“How do you know this?” I ask, needing her to say more. She gives the cutest shrug. “It was between cooking or teaching English. I thought I’d make more money cooking and my parents wanted me to choose something more stable.” My blood boils thinking her parents wouldn’t support her true dream. How could they not see the beauty I see?  

“But do you like it? The cheffing I mean.” She seems to think for a moment, biting her lip. If she does it, one more time I wonder if I’ll have control. But I must, I can’t scare her off. I can’t bear to lose her. And I won’t. Not of my own doing and not by anybody else’s. I’ll give her the world and make sure no one can give her anything else or take anything from her.  

“Um... I did, at the beginning. When I could move to the centre of France, Paris. When I got to be independent, but it soon turned out to be more than I bargained for. I quickly got sick, because I wasn’t eating well. My mind wanders and it would take my mother calling for me to realise I hadn’t eaten. And then I fell behind on the bills. The stress made me smoke more which made me sicker.” Ah I see.  

The big world just got too much for my baby. She’s too small to know how to care for herself. I see now why she needs me so. Her mind wanders to a fantasy world. She wants to be someone big and important. And paramount people don’t have to worry about those small things like what to eat and drinking enough water.  

“Are you feeling any withdrawals yet? I know it was a bit thing to ask but you must know that I just want you to be as healthy as possible. So that you can enjoy all the things in life I want to give you.” She gives a coy smile and shakes her head. “No, it’s the least I can do for all you’ve done so far. I thought I’d be stuck with that debt for the rest of my life.”  

She rolls her eyes just thinking about it. I could see the moment the money was transferred that her shoulders got lighter, and her smile got brighter. I won’t let another thing in the world affect her like this. Nothing will ever again sit on her shoulders. “If you feel even slightly off tell me immediately.” She nods, hiding her face again.  

It irritates me, I want to see her as much as I can. I reach up and tuck her hair behind her ear. I’ll have to get her some hair accessories, just to make sure she doesn’t hide from me anymore.  

Because I can get her anything. She has me to provide for her and make sure that she stays in the most pristine condition. Now she can go of in her fantasy world and I’ll stay on earth to make her bubble doesn’t burst. “So, you don’t want to work as a cook anymore?” I need to ask, and I need to know exactly what her dreams consist of so that I may make it a reality.  

Again, she bites her lip, and I can feel my trousers grow tight. How on earth has she been roaming this earth? How are people not fighting tooth and nail to be in my position? “I think I’d much prefer something...slower. Less stressful, you know? I’d like to cook, yes, but rather at home or maybe even have my own show!”  

The excitement twinkles in her eyes again and I must know more. “When I was younger, my mother would teach me how to cook and I’d always imagine that I'm on a program. We’d watch master chef and I’d always imagine being Christina Tosi or Amandine Chaignot. But even then more than anything I wanted to be involved in fashion. In any shape or form. Even if I had to cook to the models.”  

She laughs, ever so slightly and I can see the memories flash behind her eyes. Then it will be so. Then suddenly we can both hear a slight pitter patter fall on the roof top. Her eyes instantly snap right over my shoulder. Watching as the pavement turn from concrete grey to cloudy grey.  

“As I was saying before. If it rains I am not afraid to get wet. If it snows I will not be afraid of the cold. And if I ever fall in love I hope I treat it the same.” I can’t help but lean in closer. I can’t help myself. In every sense I need to be as close as possible to her. Even if, for now, I don’t know if she wants me to be as near as I want to be.  

But when she looks up at me with those big doe eyes, my actions become uncontrolable. Her gaze makes me feel like a prescious jewel being discovered for the first time. Even if it is her who is Painite, rarer than Diamonds, rarer than Emeralds. Her hands are just too resistable, her skin too soft. I take her hand in mine, but refuse to look anywhere but her hypnotic eyes.  

I bring her knuckles to my lips and place a slow, gentle kiss. “You promise?” Her fair cheeks turn a rosy pink colour. She bites her lips and it takes everything in me not to kiss her. “I can’t make any promoses, Carlos. Emotions aren’t to be controlled or guarenteed. They are free and wild and only earned.”  

“Then I will earn your heart.”  

My heart breaks that I had to leave her, but my personal trainer had been blowing up my phone. I know he’s right. I know I have to keep my body up to standard for the racing. Even then, my mind is still with her. I had let her play in the rain after our late lunch. I could see in her eyes that she so badly wanted to play.  

I told her that I’ll buy her everything all over again just to see her happy. Just to see her enjoy herself I’d let her rip the entire hotel appart. This did make her smile and it melted my heart. I didn’t care for the people staring, or the people taking pictures. All I see is the twinkle in her eyes and those cheeks become round with a wide smile.  

When I left her, her nose and cheeks were rosy pink and she was cold to the touch. I told her to take a shower and bundle up. I was honestly struggling to keep my head straight while gyming. The thought of the water fallings over those soft curves of hers makes me hot and heavy. It makes me adrenaline go crazy and my mind fuzzy. My trainer said I hit a new PR on the weights.  

I had been gone for at least an hour or two, but the sun had long since set. The girls I’d been with before, yes they were kind, yes they were sweet, but they just weren’t her. It was the moment I set my eyes on her in that restuarant, I knew I had to have her. They feared the public eye, they wanted nothing to do with the most important parts of my life. She craves it, she’s there whenever I need her.  

I found her curled up on the couch. She’d taken the extra cushions and comforters and build herself a bed there. The blankets are all the way up to her nose. She’s curled into a little ball. Taking up as little space as possible. My heart flutters and my cock goes hard. I need a shower.  

Why would she do that? Hadn’t I told her to sleep on the bed? Why does she insist on defying me when all I do is for her betterment? Terco como siempre. I prepare the bed, making sure there isn’t a single then wrong. I pick her up bridal style, up close I can hear the very light snores. She doesn’t wake, however, she cuddles up closer to me. And when I tuck her in nice and close and can’t help but notice how innocent she looks with her new pj’s.  

She clings to my shirt when I lay her down, in her subconscious she needs me as much as I need her. More than the money, more than the fame, more than the job. She wants me, she needs me. I am nothing without her and I must make sure that I will never loose her.  

After the shower, she’d thrown the duvet off to the side. She’d spread out across the bed and her shirt had ridden up right under her breast. And suddenly I need a cold shower again. Her skin is soft, like a freshly hatched dove. Her skin the same colour too and I can’t but want her to get more sun.  

My hands move without control again. Her delicate curves are like a magnet to my body. I make sure to be as soft and slow as I can, to not make a noise. Just slightly hovering above her small body. My lips make contact with the arch of her collarbone, just small gentle kisses. I do not make a sound, but she sure does. Smalls whimpers and whines escape her lips.  

Mi pequeña wants this. Still deep in sleep, but her hands grab for me. Yearn for me, like I do to her. Just soft, almost ticklish kisses on her collar. Worshipping her like I so badly want to. But, for now, I won’t take it any further. Call it but a goodnight kiss. I slept on the couch, otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to control myself.  

“Dulce niña, what happened here? Did you hurt yourself while I was gone?” Carlos’ hands come up to your neck. You instantly notice how his hands are big enough to wrap around your entire neck, you’re sure. Your brows intertwine, you know what he’s talking about. You tried curling your hair, to look good if there are cameras, but clearly you need more practice.  

His brows furrow and concern fill his eyes. The look in his eyes is the same as last night, in your dreams. You can remember his big stromg arms taking holding you. Of those storming eyes commanding you to scream his name. If he found out about these filthy dreams you had, you’d sink into the ground of embarresment. He’s a classy guy who hasn’t asked for anything more than a smile, now you’re the one thinking of his skin on yours.  

 Not only that but you woke up in the bed this morning, even after going to bed on the couch. You and your girls had been talking for longer than you’d realised, likely falling asleep while on the phone call. They’d been just as excited as you were about the whole day. Both of them swooning and wishing their partners would do and say what he does.  

You heard him coming back while you were getting ready. “No, no, don’t start with that mister.” You say, jabbing him in his chest. He’s sweaty and had clearly just come back from the gym. It’s already 07:30. His eyebrows furrow together. “I told you that I’d sleep on the couch. You are a very important person and need your full rest.”  

A smirk forms on his face and it only makes you more annoyed. He crosses his arms and leans back, clearly done listening. “You already take care of me, give me a chance to take care of you. Relationships are 50/50. Even the more...unconventoinal ones.” You can’t help but hold onto his shirt, really wanting to drive the point home. “I agree, you tell me what you want and I give it to you. 50/50.”  

You fold your arms together and roll your eyes. “Vous êtes impossible.” Something compared to a growl escapes his throat. He pulls you close to him by the hips. “I like it when you talk French to me.” Then his hand grazes your collar again. “Now tell me, what happened.” Concern is etched into his eyes and his touch is as gently as can be.  

You shrug, “I wanted to curl my hair, but I haven’t used the curling iron in a few years...” He looks confronted with your words. “If you know you can’t use it, why risk hurting yourself.” He tucks a strand of now wavy hair behind your ear. You shrug and look up at him, “I wanted to impress you.” He lets out a loud laugh and takes your face in his hands.  

“You’re too cute. What’d I do to have someone like you share a hotel room with me?” His eyes look and it makes you feel so warm inside. “You paid me,” your answer is blunt but the truth. You’re still not entirely sure where you stand in this strange relationship. He laughs just like before, “That reminds me, I got you something.”  

He then opens his gym bag and then pulls out a handfull of things. He hands them to you and you can see it’s a bunch of hair accesories. A gold headband, a gold claw clip and some scrunchies of various colours. You furrow your brows at him and he ecplains himself by taking the headband and carefully guiding it across your hair. “I don’t like how you hide from me. This should make sure that you can’t anymore.” Your cheeks go pink, he noticed.  

“Can I ask you a really strange question?” You’re not sure why now you decided to ask the question that’s been forming in your bind. It just slipped out and when he looks at you like that you don’t have much control anymore. “Always.” He smiles, still fixing your hair.  “Do I have to call you daddy?”  

His hand stops and his eyes meet yours. He forms a slight grin and then pulls your closer by the shoulders. He bends down low and then whispers in your ear. “Only when you want something.”  

My taglist is open, just ask!

[pumpkinpaix]

babe for salty asks 14? HAHAHA if not that's okay XD

14. Unpopular opinion about your fandom?

.....*whispers* the lack of critical reading skills and also the absurd lack of self-awareness in this fandom is kind of astounding sometimes /o\

i think, maybe if I’m going to be a little more specific and constructive?? i would probably ask people in american fandom specifically to take a look at their interpretations of characters and themes and notice how their political and cultural background influences those interpretations in ways that are completely unsupported by the text/deeply culturally ignorant. e.g. wwx is an extraordinary misunderstood unorthodox genius who stood up against a corrupt system as a revolutionary figure (no), or wwx is a working-class hero (nO), actually on that note, popular interpretations on class conflict in mdzs (why!!), gusu lan is abusive and cruel, specifically regarding lwj’s punishment (no!!!!!), the obsession with “complicity” (lxc, jc, nmj sometimes -- i cannot fucking emphasize enough how much that is directly taken from current left-leaning political rhetoric in the united states--a rhetoric that I think should be seriously reexamined but that’s a whole other point), trying to map american race struggles onto different groups in mdzs (no!! no no!!!), “fetishization” discourse (woof), misunderstandings of how morality matters thematically to the text (AAAAAA) etc.

i understand that everyone comes to a text from their own perspective, including me! of course i bring my own personal biases into my interpretations, but i really. most of the things i listed are points that I genuinely do not think can be argued in meaningful ways? im not sure how interested i am in actually explaining myself on a lot of them because im honestly kind of exhausted, but like!!! anyways. that’s my unpopular opinion. i am NOT sticking this in the tag lmfao

ty for asking babe 😭

salt asks

[muselin]

first off i'd like to note that your new ff is absolutely fucking amazing, next i'd like to ask you something!

what do you think each shinee member likes to be called in bed ? daddy, sir, master, baby, etc etc. (bonus points if you'd like to add what they like to call their s/o!)

-🗑

🗑anon hi!!! Omg you have no idea how popular you are behind the scenes in my circle lol. I'm talking conspiracy theories about who you might be, but mostly how hot your asks are haha ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

So, on with what's essentially a headcanon --

SHINee Headcanon - What they like to be called in bed

Onew

What he likes to be called:

Daddy. Yep. I have sat there watching his live as he read out comments calling him daddy and just smiled. No blushing, no "hajimaaaa", no acting shy or nervous. It matches his sweet and caring (and not-so-well-hidden filthy) disposition. This man is fully comfortable being called daddy and I bet my bottom dollar that nothing turns him on quicker than whispering it in his ear when you want him to want you instantly.

What he likes to call his s/o:

I am sticking with English words and not going cringe to explain the Korean equivalents, hope you understand. So Onew would probably like to call his s/o prince or princess, baby, little boy/little girl. All the ones that match "daddy". I would not put age play past him, to be honest.

Minho

What he likes to be called:

His name or "sir". When he's feeling playful or vanilla, his name affectionately called or moaned sensually makes him melt a little bit. And when he's feeling like playing rough or disciplinarian, he likes to be called "sir" and you are in for pain if you don't comply.

What he likes to call his s/o:

Babe or their name, or "whore" if he's feeling spicy and domineering. Obscenities are rare with him but he isn't above using a time-honoured one when the situation calls for it (i.e. when he's making you beg and cry and worship his cock like a perfect little whore).

Key

What he likes to be called:

"Master" or random obscenities, depending on if he's domming or subbing for you. Bastard, fucker, slut, bitch - he doesn't mind, as long as they're appropriate to whatever role he's playing that night. Words don't matter to him as much as the feeling behind them, and obscenities convey so much - you being driven crazy by his teasing, you loving how he begs for you when you're punishing him, you generally being driven crazy by him which is always an ego boost.

What he likes to call his s/o:

Master/Mistress if you're domming (and instructed him to), slut if you're subbing for him. He likes his balance. I mean, he's a Libra, what are we expecting.

Taemin

What he likes to be called:

An affectionate version of his name, kitten, or baby and sugar if he's feeling subby and wanting to be taken care of. He can sometimes ask you to call him "bitch", if he just wants to be fucked hard and proper or wants to be punished. Much of the time he acts like a prince though, so spoiling it is.

What he likes to call his s/o:

Honey, baby, their name or if he's very very subby, he might say sir or ma'am. He's generally not so much "with the words" as he is with just expressing the level of address with his actions, like curling up at your feet waiting for instructions, or if he's feeling more equal, just kissing you all over and never taking his hands off your body.

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Wonderland by GleefullyCaptainSwan 

Read on AO3: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

Or on FF

Tagging:  @kmomof4 @lfh1226-linda @teamhook @itsfabianadocarmo

Chapter 6: As You Wish

Emma wasn’t waiting for Ruby to get back to her room. Not at all. She was simply staring at the door in case anyone interesting walked by. At least that is what she told herself. She had spent the last hour convincing herself that she didn’t care what Ruby and Killian were up to. She could barely stomach the guy at all and if Ruby wanted to deal with his bullshit, who was she to stop her.

She peeked her head out the door and peered down the hall.

“Help you with something Emma?”

She jumped and grabbed her heart. “My God you scared me.” Graham was standing behind her with a grin across his face. “Um no, I was just waiting for Ruby to get back from…” She paused and bit her lip. “The cafeteria.”

“Bit late to be eating don’t you think? It’s almost lights out.”

Emma panicked. She didn’t want to get anyone in trouble. “Female issues.” She said with a shy smile. “Chocolate make the cramps go away.” She cringed at her own words and he put his hands up in front of him.

“Say no more.” He backed away quickly and continued down the hall.

“Ugh.” She groaned just as she heard voices coming from the other end of the hallway. She ran back into the room and jumped into her bed, grabbing a magazine, and holding it up in front of her, quickly flipping it again so that it was right side up.

“Thanks again Ruby, you really are a very sweet lass.” Emma rolled her eyes, staring down at the magazine.

“Well, you know what I said earlier, you come find me, anytime.”

“Goodnight, Love.”

“Night Killian.”

Emma felt like vomiting. It wasn’t that she cared about Killian and Ruby doing whatever they were off doing together, she didn’t. Not entirely. Maybe she was just lonely. That had to be what it was. She’d felt alone since getting to the island.

Well, that wasn’t exactly true either. She and Jefferson had become like kindred spirits. He had a way of making her laugh that made her feel free. She hadn’t felt that way in such a long time that she found herself looking forward to hanging out with him. Not that she didn’t think he might have a screw loose, or maybe even two. But he was very sweet to her and she enjoyed the attention.

So maybe it wasn’t loneliness that had her seeing red when Ruby walked into the room, her cheeks flushed, and her clothes still covered in sand. “Looks like you had an interesting evening.” She said dryly.

The girl looked down at her clothes, brushing them off with a giggle. “Oh yeah well, we were um…”

Emma rolled her eyes. “I don’t care to hear the damn details.”

“I was right about one thing though.”

Emma looked up from her magazine. The girl stretched her hands apart and mouthed ‘big dick’. Emma shook her head, her insides fuming as she gritted her teeth. “Don’t care, Rubes.” She tossed her magazine to the ground and rolled onto her side, pulling her covers over her head. “Turn off the light when you are done, please.”

She didn’t sleep well that night. She told herself it was because in the morning she would have to go to another group therapy session, but she knew that wasn’t entirely the reason for her foul mood. Looking over at Ruby still sleeping in her bed, she got up and quietly dressed for the day, sneaking out to grab some breakfast before their session. She didn’t feel like spending the morning listening to her roommate talk about Killian or the size of any of his damn parts.

She grabbed her tray, a short stack of pancakes and bacon, before settling into a seat in the corner of the cafeteria. It was quiet and she was grateful to have a moment to collect her thoughts before she had to deal with the entire group again. Apparently therapy patients were not early risers because she continued to be the only person in the room for thirty minutes. However, as soon as she heard his voice, she started gathering her plates and stood from the table, watching as Ruby and Killian entered the room, both laughing about something stupid she was sure he had said.

She threw away her garbage and walked toward the door. “Something I said again?” He joked loudly as she approached the exit. She paused for a moment and turned back toward him, extending her middle finger, before continuing toward the hallway. She didn’t know why she was being so childish, but it felt good.

She was still early for group, but she didn’t know where else to go so she made her way to the room and sat in an empty chair around the circle.

“You don’t get any bonus points for being early.” She looked up to see August enter the room. “But I’m glad to see you came back.”

“Ready for round 2 of my interrogation.” She said mockingly.

“We haven’t really had a moment to chat.” He looked around the room. “Seems now is as good a time as any.” Emma shrugged, looking apprehensive. “Look, I just wanted to apologize for last session. I want you to know it wasn’t personal.”

“Really? Because it felt personal.”

“Look I’ve been here four weeks now, I get it. It’s not easy coming from a life you know to somewhere like this where you are forced to face the darkest shit about yourself. It’s not always fun looking that deep.”

“Or having someone tell you who you are when they don’t even know you.”

“Fair point, Emma. But have you ever had anyone just tell it to you how it is, no bullshit, no sugar? Because that’s where you gotta get to here. You have to rip the bandage off and let it bleed.”

“That’s graphic.” She scowled.

They heard voices and looked up as the others entered the room. Ruby coming in and plopping down in the seat next to her. “You got up early.”

Emma shrugged but smiled at her.

Killian took the seat directly across from her, his dark eyes meeting hers as Dr. Hopper walked in with Will and Jefferson.

“Looks like the gang is all here.” Will joked, taking the seat on the other side of her. “Mornin’ beautiful.”

Emma scrunched her nose, watching him from the corner of her eyes. “Um hi.”

“Alright who wants to go first today?”

“I will.” Ruby volunteered and Emma happily turned to her other side to watch her roommate speak.

“My Grans is coming to family day this time. I’m really excited to see her.”

“That’s great, Ruby. That’s a big step. You didn’t think she would come last time we talked.”

“Yeah, I guess she’s still upset with me. Disappointed, but she’s willing to come support me.”

“How are your phone calls going with her?”

“Good, a bit short still. She doesn’t want to have to talk about all the um, men, I’ve done around town. Apparently, I have a fan club that comes looking for me at the diner.”

“Is it just you and her at home?”

“Um yeah, she took care of me for as long as I can remember.”

“Your parents are gone?”

“Dad passed when I was five, mom didn’t handle it well. She wasn’t around much and then it was just me and Grans.”

“So, you grew up without a man in your life?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Do you think not having a father around might have led to an unhealthy obsession with men?”

She shrugged. “I guess. It’s not like I sleep with men because I want my daddy if that’s what you’re thinking?”

“Sounds to me like daddy issues is a common theme in this room.”

Emma glared at August. “Again, with that shit? Can a woman have self-esteem issues without you automatically assuming it has to do with a man?”

He held his hands up in front of his body. “Truce, please continue.”

“Anyway, in the beginning I liked being with them because they bought me alcohol. Treated me nice, bought me things. But then I just found that I wanted to please them, almost like I needed to, like it made me high anytime I was offering sexual favors.”

“I wish I had a sex addiction.” Will announced and every laughed. “Sure, sounds like a better way to get high.”

“Sex addiction is not a laughing matter, it’s very serious. It leads to unhealthy relationships, low self-esteem, depression.” Their therapist tried to explain.

“That about sums me up.” Ruby said with a shrug, a frown on her face for just a moment before her mask took over again and she plastered the smile back on her face.

“I don’t get how having sex is somehow a serious issue.” August rolled his eyes and crossed his arms against his chest.

“You know, you may not take it seriously, poor little rich girl, got drunk, had sex with a man who beat the shit out of her, took too many pills, and ended up here. Sex addiction seems stupid to you but try living with it every day. When the only way to feel good about yourself is if you please someone else.” Ruby had tears on her cheek and Emma reached over to take her hand.

August sighed. “I’m sorry Rubes, you’re right, it was wrong of me to say that.”

“I don’t need your pity. Or yours.” She pointed to Will. “Maybe yours, cuz you’re hot.” She winked at Killian and Emma flushed.

“Ok thank you for sharing today, Ruby.” Archie interjected thankfully before Ruby could continue her shameless flirting.

“Emma, why don’t you share something today.”

Emma sighed deeply. “I uh, not sure where I’m supposed to start.”

“Let’s talk about how old you were when you first started drinking.”

“I probably started when I was 14. I went to a party with a Neal.”

“And Neal is your boyfriend, correct?

She looked at her hands. “Um, yeah, he’s my boyfriend. We met when I was twelve and he was just always around.”

“Was he upset by your drinking?”

She laughed. “Not at all. Neal actually made me my first drink.”

“Are you and Neal the same age?”

“Nah he’s a couple of years older than me, so he was 16 when we went to our first party together.” She caught Killian’s eye and looked away.

“Emma, would you say that Neal was an enabler for your addictions?”

Emma flinched. “No.”

Her therapist squinted his eyes. “When did the drugs start?”

Her heart was starting to beat a bit harder in her chest. “I would say a couple years later. Maybe 16 or 17?”

“And where did you get them from? Was Neal part of the drugs as well?”

“Um, he had a dealer we would buy from.”

“Bloody hell.” Killian swore under his breath.

“What’s your problem?” She shot back at him and he glared back at her.

“Just seems like a real swell guy giving fucking drugs to a 16-year-old.”

She rolled her eyes. “That’s none of your damn business.”

“Apologizes, M’lady.” He bowed his head toward her and she felt the anger building inside her.

“Why are we apologizing at all? Killian has a point.” August interjected and Emma’s head snapped in his direction.

“Aye, he has a point.” Will mimicked.

“I’m the one in rehab, not Neal.”

“Yeah, but it sounds like he had a hand in getting you here. Did he even try and stop you when you started drowning?”

Emma bit her cheek, her knee bouncing in front of her. “Neal tried. He’s a good guy.” She lied. She knew they were right, but that was none of their damn business.

Killian snorted in disgust.

“I think I’m done sharing for today.” Archie nodded and turned toward Killian.

“Killian, why don’t we move to you since you seem eager to talk today.”

Emma smirked when he looked up at her. “Serves you right buddy.”

“Alright.”

Emma noticed how quickly his demeanor changed.

“When did you start drinking?”

“I was in a band.” Emma snorted and then covered her mouth. He peered through slanted eyes in her direction before continuing. “I’m just saying, it was different circumstances. I wasn’t a 14-year-old rich girl who could have anything she wanted.”

“I beg your pardon.” She scowled.

“It’s different, princess. I had nothing. We practiced in a broken-down garage with instruments we got from a pawn shop. My dad wasn’t around much and when he was, he was passed out drunk, my brother practically raised me. And when I wasn’t with Liam, Rob and I spent a lot of time writing songs and drinking.”

“Hypocrite.” She mumbled.

“Besides,” He said loudly. “We were just kids messing around. I didn’t start abusing alcohol until much later.”

“What do you think brought that on?”

Emma studied his face. She didn’t know why she was suddenly so invested in his story or why she cared at all.

“I guess it was probably all the pressure I was under to perform. The band was touring and as soon as the tour ended, I was expected to start filming a movie, I had just gotten engaged, and everything seemed to be spinning out of control.”

Engaged? Now that’s something she didn’t expect.

“Most of the time all that pressure comes from within, man.” Jefferson laid a hand on Killian’s shoulder.

“I guess, I mean the money I brought in was more money than my family had ever seen. At first it felt good to be able to provide but after a while, everything I did became about making sure that money kept coming in instead of just doing what I loved.”

Emma studied his face, looking for any sign of deception as he spoke, she found none.

The room got quiet and Archie finally spoke. “Ok you guys did great today. Let’s pause here and congratulate Emma and Killian on completing one week of rehab. Great job.”

Everyone clapped but Emma could only sigh. She’d only managed to get through one week. She didn’t feel like she had gotten anywhere, instead it was like she was frozen in place.

The group stood and broke off into smaller discussions. Will and Jefferson talking about the next visit to the gym and Killian and Ruby whispering in the corner, probably making plans for another roll in the sand, she thought.

She slipped out the back door while no one was paying attention and went in search of her refuge. It wasn’t until her feet climbed the hill under the pier that she let out a large breath. She sat down on the sandy embankment, watching the waves coming in and out with the tide.

“Permission to enter?”

She saw him standing at the edge of the pier, rays of sunshine brushing his hair. “Does my answer matter?”

“Of course, it does, Swan.”

She groaned. “What do you want?”

“I came to apologize.” He stood at the bottom of the embankment. “For earlier. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Which time.” She spat and then looked back at him; disappointment plastered across his face. “Sorry, habit. It’s fine. Seriously.”

He tentatively climbed the hill and sat down beside her. “I did not mean to make disparaging remarks about your boyfriend, Neal correct?”

She didn’t want to talk about Neal. She just shrugged and stared at the water. They sat in silence for a what felt like hours. It was comfortable, yet she couldn’t explain why.

“I started doing drugs when I met Milah.” He spoke softly.

“Is that your fiancé?”

He nodded sadly. “Aye.” He looked over at her and she noticed immediately that the bravado was gone.

“Is she coming for family day?”

He looked toward the ocean and released a deep sigh. “No.”

“Oh.”

“Can I tell you something?” Their eyes met and she nodded silently. “It was a car accident.” Her brow furrowed, not understanding him. “I had been drinking.” He paused, swallowing hard as if he was admitting something that was more for his benefit and not hers. “A lot. Milah and I got into a fight the night of my movie premier. I was angry and she was yelling at me. The road was wet, and I lost control of the wheel. I didn’t even see the truck.”

Emma swallowed. Oh my God. What was he saying? Her mouth was dry, and she didn’t understand why he was choosing to share this information with her.

“That’s how you lost your hand?” She finally spoke, hardly at a whisper.

He nodded sadly. “That was only part of my punishment. I lost everything I loved that night.”

Emma came to a slow realization for what the implication of his statement meant. Milah couldn’t come visit him for family day because she was no longer here.

“Killian I’m so sorry.”

“Please don’t apologize, that’s my burden not yours.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I don’t know.” He whispered. “You called me out for lying previously. No one else even batted an eye.”

“I’m gonna let you in on a little secret. I’m pretty good at knowing when someone is lying to me.”

“Well now I’m not. And now you can admit the truth.”

She stared at him confused. “The truth about what?”

“Neal. It seems to me that he’s been there throughout your entire beginnings and yet here you are, alone. Where was he?”

“I fail to see how that is any of your business, but if you have to know, he’s waiting for me at home. He’s always been supportive of my recovery.”

“I see, so no one can lie to you, but you can lie to yourself. Seems quite cowardly.”

“I beg your pardon. Do you think because you chose to share something with me that suddenly that makes us…” She glared at him. “What? Friends?”

He stood and started to walk down the hill. She jumped up and chased him through the sand. “Did you think pretending to open up to me, telling me your secret was going to get you in my pants. Was Ruby not enough for you?”

He turned on her. “First off, Ruby is a much better friend than you are even capable of, but you can be sure, love, I have no intention of getting anywhere near your pants.”

“Good, because I have no interest in you.” She glared with her arms crossed.

“Nor I you.” He yelled.

They stared intently at each other, time standing still, fire burning in his blue eyes. He put his hands in the air and turned. “Forget it, Swan, I’ll leave.”

“Just stay the hell away from me.”

“As you wish.” He bowed, turning back toward the center, and jogging away.

She wanted to scream but didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. Instead, she fell back into the sand and cried. He seemed so sincere just five minutes earlier. It infuriated her that he could so easily get under her skin. She didn’t want to admit that he had seen through her, that he was right about Neal without even knowing the full story. She hated him for being right about anything, but she hated him more for being right about her. She was a coward.

Why was he trying to connect with her anyway? He was already having sex with Ruby.

It had never occurred to her that maybe he was just reaching out for someone to share his experience with. Besides, he did come to her in private, he wasn’t like August, going after her in front of everyone else. And how did she repay that? She yelled at him. Accused him of divulging something so personal with her in exchange for sex. It angered her that she may be in the wrong.

After all, she was the one who had kissed him. Perhaps he wasn’t interested in her at all. He had never made any attempts to kiss her since that day. And now she was pretty sure he hated her. As Emma walked back to the center that evening, she realized that even in rehab she was a complete and utter screwup.

[unfolded73]

Decisions (1/1) - schitt’s creek ff

Flashbacks to all the little decisions that brought David and Patrick together to their wedding night. Canon compliant through S5. Rated Teen, 5.6k

Yeah, I’ve got it bad for these two.

(ao3)

~~~~~~~~~~

“Was that okay?” David let his hand slide across Patrick’s abdomen, nails scratching through the hair below his navel. He spooned up against Patrick’s back, ignoring the post-coital sweatiness for once in order to cuddle.

“Okay?” Patrick laughed, or more accurately, giggled. “Did you really ask if that was okay? Because I think I might’ve actually blacked out for a minute there.”

David hummed, the path of his hand continuing to Patrick’s hip. “It’s just, it’s our wedding night, so I felt a certain amount of pressure to live up to expectations. Wedding night sex should be, you know, top five sex.”

Patrick rolled over to face him, his nose nuzzling against David’s bare chest. “Contrary to popular belief, I don’t actually keep score on our sex life.”

“Still--”

“It was amazing. You’re amazing.” Patrick kissed him. “You, my husband, are amazing.”

David tried not be thrilled by being called husband, he did, but his hammering heart had other ideas. He remembered stumbling out onto a Manhattan balcony the morning that gay marriage had been legalized in the States, hungover and with only a vague memory of whom he’d gone to bed with the night before, listening with half an ear as his polyamorous performance artist girlfriend at the time lectured her friends about the fact that marriage was a heteronormative construct to which the queer community never should have aspired in the first place. They all nodded sagely, taking drags off their cigarettes in the morning sunlight. David had nodded too, nodded in agreement that marriage was a prison, a trap, a refuge for desperate and weak-willed breeders. It sometimes occurred to him these days that his opinions back then had been thoroughly molded by those around him, pressed into his mind like handprints into soft concrete. Daniella said marriage was a construct, so David believed marriage was a construct. He wondered (not for the first time, or even the hundredth) what that David would think of him now, looking forward to a settled life with this one man who wore sensible Oxford shirts that he bought at the outlet mall in Elmdale.

“Do you ever think about all the tiny decisions we made that led us here?” Patrick asked.

David shook himself out of his reverie. “Hmm?”

Patrick pulled away far enough to be able to focus on his face. “I mean, there’s any number of ways that if things had gone slightly differently, you and I would never have met. Or at the very least, would never have ended up in business together. Or in a relationship.”

“See, I try not to think about things like that, because imagining never being with you would be very upsetting for me. And you know I don’t like my eyes to get puffy.”

“Yeah, you mentioned that to me several times today.”

“Well, it’s important,” David responded, lifting his hand and gesturing in the air for emphasis.

“Important enough to say during the ceremony, though?”

“It’s just that your vows were very emotional.”

“Yeah, I said those things because I like to watch your eyes get puffy,” Patrick said, smirking at him.

David huffed in annoyance, even has he cupped the back of Patrick’s head, fondly stroking the short hair above his neck. “Anyway, no, I don’t get all Gwyneth in Sliding Doors about my life choices.”

“I never saw that movie.”

David reared back, his eyes widening in horror. “Okay, I’m going to need a divorce.”

“Or we could just watch the movie,” Patrick said, grinning, and then leaning in to kiss him.

David hummed and smiled against Patrick’s lips. “Yeah, I suppose we could just watch the movie.”

~*~

Patrick opened the door of his increasing barren apartment to see Rachel standing there. Her eyes were red from crying, and his stomach twisted with guilt at the sight of her.

“Can I come in?” she asked, and what was he supposed to say to that other than yes, so yes is what he said, stepping back to admit her into the cardboard box forest of his living room.

Rachel looked around despondently. “So you’re really moving?” She was dressed in yoga pants and a sweatshirt, her long, red hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. Patrick wished he could hug her because he really needed a hug, but he kept his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his jeans.

“Yeah.”

Her shoulders drooped at that, as if just by asking, she might make him change his mind and stay. Which, given their past, probably wasn’t an unreasonable thing for her to think.

“And you’re just going to drive; you don’t even know where you’re going to live?”

Well, no, that part of the plan he’d told Rachel wasn’t true. He’d wanted it to be true -- wanted to be the kind of person who could just uproot his entire life on a whim and head off into the sunset with no clear idea where he was going to end up. But Patrick was a planner, and in the end he’d been too anxious to go through with that level of spontaneity. Instead he’d browsed job websites until he found something weird but promising, working for a guy named Ray who’d hired him over the phone after a lengthy, very chatty interview. He’d even be able to rent a spare room in Ray’s house, so if Ray turned out to be a serial killer, at least Patrick was making himself fully available to murder at any time of the day or night. He liked to be accommodating that way.

He didn’t want to tell Rachel any of this.

She laughed bitterly. “And here I thought this time, the engagement would stick.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to me, I’m sick of your apologies. All you ever do is apologize to me.”

So she came here to berate him, then. Great. Not that he didn’t deserve it, with as many times as he’d broken her heart.

“But I guess that you don’t want to marry me so much that this time you can’t even stand to be in the same town as me,” she continued.

He and Rachel had been best friends in high school, inseparable, and everyone expected them to start dating from the time they were fifteen. Everyone expected it so much that it was like they willed the relationship into existence, and Patrick let himself be swept along with the tide of their expectations. He’d kissed her for the first time after one of his baseball games because he knew he was supposed to. He’d had mediocre sex with her the night of their spring formal because their friends expected it. He’d come home from college and asked her to marry him because his parents and her parents and even the lady who worked the register at the local hardware store had been hinting at him about it. Then a few months later, faced with the fact that being engaged to someone meant you had to actually marry them, he’d panicked and broken off the engagement. That was only the first time he’d broken off their engagement.

It was possible that Patrick was an asshole.

“I just need a fresh start with my life, I can’t--” Stay here. Face you. Face my parents.

“So then go to Toronto, or Chicago, or somewhere normal that people go when they’re trying to get away from home.”

“It’s expensive to live in those places. And I’m a small town guy.”

“I don’t want you to go. I still--” She hiccupped a tiny sob. “I still love you, Patrick.”

He felt like he still loved her too, and also that he’d never had a clear idea of what love actually was. But he knew he couldn’t marry her. With so much uncertainty in his life, he was finally certain of that, albeit several years too late.

“Please don’t go.”

It would make a lot of people happy if he stayed. Rachel, his parents, his buddies from high school who still liked to drink cheap beer and watch hockey. The lady from the hardware store. In leaving, he was disappointing everyone. He could agree not to go, and that weight of disappointing everyone would lift. 

Replaced by a heavier weight that he couldn’t quite define, but that had been pushing him down his whole life.

“I’m sorry, Rachel. I have to go.”

~*~

This fucking motel smelled funny, that was why he couldn’t sleep.

David turned over one more time, trying to get comfortable between the scratchy, low thread count sheets. He pulled the sleeve of his designer sweatshirt over his hand and cupped it over his face and inhaled, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to imagine that he was back in his own bed at his parent’s mansion. Or the bed in his Manhattan loft. Or even the bed of a stranger as he avoided the wet spot on the sheets and wondered if it would be easier just to leave now rather than waiting until morning. Literally anywhere would be better than this hellhole.

Flipping onto his back violently, David huffed out a breath.

“Oh my God, David, can you stop fidgeting for like, two minutes?”

“Fuck off, Alexis.”

She made an unhappy squeaking noise. “You don’t have to be such a dick to me all the time, you know.”

“I think I do.” He was still furious at her that she would have left with Stavros, abandoning him to their mother’s misery and their father’s misplaced optimism and this place.

“I could leave too, you know,” he added.

“Oh really, David? Where would you go?”

 “To New York, where I lived.”

“Your apartment is gone, David.”

“I have friends, Alexis.”

“Oh, do you. Name one.”

He opened his mouth, but before he could say a person who definitely existed and wasn’t made up, Alexis added, “And I mean someone who would actually care enough about you to let you crash on their sofa now that you’re poor. Also, how would you even get to New York? We don’t even have a car. Or money for a plane ticket on a…” -- and here she shuddered -- “commercial airline.”

“Believe me, if I wanted to find someone to put me up in New York, I could. There are men who would be more than happy to send me a plane ticket if I asked.”

“Ew, David. Like a sugar daddy? Even you should have more self-respect than that.”

He snorted. Self-respect. As if.

“And anyway, you’re not the young twink you once were; no one’s going to pay you to be their boy toy now,” she added.

“Jump off a bridge, Alexis,” he said, in no small part because he feared what she said was true. He didn’t have any friends who’d cared about anything but his money and connections, and he probably was too old to attract the attention of someone who might support him financially just because he was pretty and good at sucking dick. A small voice in the back of his head told him he was better off without those kinds of people. He ignored it.

“Fine, prove it. Leave,” she huffed. “Go to New York and find some skeevy guy to support you, see if I care.”

A part of him was so angry with Alexis that he almost got up at one thirty in the morning and stormed out of the room. He’d find a way to get out of this town somehow. He’d walk. He’d hitchhike. He’d sprout wings and fly.

After a long pause during which he stayed under the too-thin bedding, David said, “I can’t leave, I need to be here for Mom. She won’t survive this without me.”

“Yeah, that’s why you’re staying,” Alexis muttered sarcastically.

“Shut up.”

“You shut up.”

~*~

“Feeling better?” Stevie asked as she took the joint out of his hand and put it to her lips. David watched as she took a deep drag and held the smoke in her lungs for a few seconds before blowing it up at the sky.

He leaned back on the worn picnic table behind the motel and looked up at the way the light filtered through the trees. Schitt’s Creek could be oddly beautiful when viewed from the right angle. And when high. 

“Yeah. Better.”

“Done freaking out about the store?”

“Probably not, but I am presently done freaking out. At present.”

Stevie giggled, and David rolled over on the table to take the joint back from her.

“It’s the consignment part of it that’s crucial, but I wasn’t able to impart that to that uptight little cutie at Ray’s.”

“You talk like your mother when you’re high.”

David gasped, sitting up. “You take that back.”

Stevie blinked at him. “I just mean you use bigger words. Unnecessarily large words,” she overennunciated. “Wait, you said ‘cutie.’”

“Who did?” He shook his head side-to-side, trying to clear it. “I mean, I said what about what?”

“You said ‘that uptight cutie at Ray’s.’ He’s cute? You failed to mention that, you just said he was snippy.”

“He’s not cute; he was pressuring me to fill out a form. Nothing about that was cute.” David stretched back out on the picnic table. 

“And yet you said it.”

“Also I’m pretty sure he was wearing Levi’s.”

Stevie clutched at her heart. “Oh my God.”

“You may not think I can tell when you’re making fun of me but I actually can. I just mean he’s not my type. Which doesn’t matter because I’m sure he’s straight. He was pretty much wearing the straight boy uniform.”

“You sure are worried about what this non-cute boy’s sexual preferences are, David.”

“Nuh-uh.”

Stevie didn’t respond to that, and so they were silent for a while. David continued to squint up at the sunlight-dappled trees and Stevie… thought her Stevie thoughts. David imagined this is what his teen years would have been like if he’d grown up with no money in a town like this: getting stoned with a friend on a sad picnic table behind a motel. No parties with half-naked models and bowls of ecstasy. At the moment, he couldn’t put his finger on any reason why this would have been such a bad way to grow up. He certainly could have used a friend like Stevie in those years. Someone to support him and to call him on his bullshit.

David took a deep breath and broke the silence. “I guess what I wanted to say before I was stoned is, maybe it’s not too late for me to give up on the store idea. My mother was right, I’ve never done anything like this on my own before, and any belated maternal instinct she may have had to encourage me--”

“David Rose, don’t you dare give up on the store. I’ll be furious with you if you do, I mean it.”

“There’s a lot I don’t know about running a business.”

“I know. But you can ask your dad for help. Or you can ask the cutie at Ray’s.”

“I hate you,” he said, but he reached into his pocket and ran his finger along the edge of Patrick’s business card.

“Please don’t give up on it, David.”

He rolled over and looked at Stevie, her black hair tousled in the light breeze. He felt the sudden urge to tell her he loved her, but he figured that was just the marijuana talking. He bit his lips to keep the declaration in and sat up. “I’m going to go down to the store,” he announced.

“To do what?” she asked, hopping down off the picnic table and taking David’s hand to pull him to his feet. The world tilted alarmingly on its axis from this new vantage point.

“To work on my business plan.”

~*~

Patrick called his parents on Sunday afternoons without fail. He felt like if he didn’t stick to the schedule, if he let a Sunday go by and didn’t call them, then he’d start going longer and longer between calls and eventually he’d barely talk to them at all. So he called, right on schedule, even though the thought of talking to them today had caused a ball of anxiety to form in his stomach for some reason that he couldn’t explain.

After the exchange of pleasantries and listening to the latest gossip from his hometown, an uncomfortable silence descended.

“So, I… uh…” Why was this so hard to talk to his parents about? Patrick squeezed his eyes shut and pressed the phone harder against his ear. “I’m not going to be working for Ray anymore.”

“Oh,” his mom said, and he could hear the mixture of confusion and worry in that one little syllable. “That didn’t last very long, did it?”

“I know you said Ray’s a little… scattered, but you probably need to give it some more time, son,” his father said in that deep, sonorous voice that Patrick had failed to inherit. 

“Does that mean you’ll be coming back home?” his mom asked, and shit, of course she would jump to that conclusion.

“No, no no, that’s not why I’m… I’m going into partnership with another guy to help him run a store.”

“What guy?” his father asked at the same time his mother said, “A store?”

“Um, his name is David,” Patrick said, and it felt weirdly thrilling and forbidden to speak David’s name out loud to his parents. He frowned; what an odd thought. “The general store in town closed down, and David’s leased it to turn it into a space where he’s going to sell products from local vendors on consignment. It’s a good business model.”

“It sounds interesting,” his dad said, which sounded like a diplomatic way of saying ‘risky.’ Or perhaps a diplomatic way of saying ‘I can’t fathom why you would you give up a good job and a relationship with a lovely girl like Rachel to move to the ass end of the world and drift from one job you’re overqualified for to another.’

“It should be. I’m excited about it.” He paced across the floor, suddenly anxious to get off the phone. 

“I saw Mr. Stephens a few days ago,” his father said.

“Oh, yeah?” Theo Stephens had been Patrick’s boss at the bank.

“He said your job is still available if you want to come back home.”

“Tell him he really needs to hire a replacement,” Patrick said.

“I think he did, but it didn’t work out. So he’s looking again to fill the position, and I thought--”

“I’m staying here in Schitt’s Creek, Dad.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but why? What does that town have that your hometown doesn’t?”

A rush of images filled Patrick’s head. The clean white walls of the store, and the nice way it smelled now that he and David had washed everything thoroughly and filled it with skin and hair care products. The way David smirked when Patrick said something witty and sardonic, like there was a big smile inside of him that he was barely containing. The way David’s long, ringed fingers looked as he pressed labels onto bottles of moisturizer and bags of tea. 

“It has the store.”

“Oh, stop giving Patrick a hard time, Clint,” his mother said. “We just miss you, is all.” 

Patrick’s face flushed with shame that he was making his mother sad. “I know, Mom. I miss you too.”

“You’ll keep us posted about how it goes with the store?” his dad asked.

“Yeah, of course,” he said, but there was a part of him that never wanted to mention the store to them again. It was his and David’s, and sharing it with people at home, even his parents, felt strangely blasphemous.

“We love you, son.”

“Love you, too.”

The next few days were filled with body milk and spreadsheets of vendors and inventory and laughter and his heart squeezing uncomfortably in his chest every time he looked at David across the room. On Patrick’s next day off, he got up early and went for a hike, like if he didn’t keep moving his skin might turn itself inside out.

Or like he might have to admit that he had romantic feelings for David.

It wasn’t that the thought of being gay had never occurred to him before; he wasn’t born under a rock, after all. But he dismissed it, because gay men weren’t like him. Gay men were like David, fashion-conscious and unaware of what a change-up pitch was. And then there had been Rachel and a few other girls in college, keeping him from seriously questioning his sexuality. He looked straight, he acted straight, he’d had sex with women. Although, true, he’d always wondered what the big deal about sex was, because he’d secretly never thought it was all that great. And true, he’d once sat in a darkened theater watching Avengers and spending a lot more time focusing on Chris Evans than on Scarlett Johansson. But he’d never really fallen for a boy either, and eventually Patrick had concluded that he wasn’t a particularly sexual person. That was a thing, after all; he’d read about it. 

Then he met David Rose.

He spent hours working on the store’s budget and thinking about the turn of David’s neck. He stocked shelves and thought about David’s elegant fingers, with those silver rings that would catch the light and attract Patrick’s attention like a moth to a streetlamp. He stared into the middle distance, listening to the jazz that David insisted was an essential part of the store’s aesthetic, and thought about what David’s mouth would feel like on his own.

There was no use denying it: for the first time in his life, Patrick was falling for someone, and it was a man. And while that was confusing enough, the bigger problem was that it was his business partner.

Patrick reached the overlook point, and he stopped to catch his breath, sweat running down between his shoulder blades. 

“I’m gay,” he said out loud to the forest, testing the words, the very concept, in his mouth.

“I’m gay. I’m very, very gay for David Rose,” he said, and then laughed. He sounded crazy.

An argument could be made that it would be the wisest course never to act on his feelings because of the business. The most likely outcome to sharing his feelings with David would be a humiliating rejection; Patrick wasn’t the kind of person David would be attracted to, surely, and the best he could hope for would be for David not to laugh in his face. Even if by some miracle David was interested, all that would probably lead to would be a short relationship that would inevitably end, leaving Patrick working day in and day out with the man who’d broken his heart. 

He imagined asking David out, and David saying yes. Suddenly it was all he wanted, to go on a date with David, but he didn’t know if he’d have the courage to do it. Still, admitting that he wanted to, admitting what his feelings were, that was almost as good as making the decision to act on them.

“I’m so fucked,” Patrick said to the trees. They nodded in the breeze in agreement.

~*~

It was a rare day off from the store, and all David had wanted to do was sleep until noon and then lie in bed and eat a bag of chips and watch whatever was on the Hallmark Channel, which was available on the new cable package that his dad had gotten for the motel. Instead, his mother had woken him up with a list of chores, the latest of which was helping her to groom her wigs. So putting it mildly, David was crabby. He wanted to text Patrick and tell him about the trials his mother was putting him through, but Patrick was working at the store alone today and he probably wouldn’t appreciate the interruption.

“I like you and Patrick together,” his mother said, and David eyed her suspiciously, wondering if she’d finally learned to read his mind.

“There’s nothing to like yet; we’ve been on one date and we’ve kissed a few times, that’s all.” He combed the wig he was working on a little more vigorously, which got him a reproachful look from Moira.

“Perhaps that’s so, but the spark between you is pellucid for all to see.” She gave him a knowing smile. “He lights up when you walk in the room, and I dare say the reverse is also accurate.”

“Okay, well.” David bit down on a smile, lest he prove her point. “There’s still a lot that can go wrong, that’s all. And when things do go wrong, both my personal life and my business will be fucked, so.”

“Don’t be so fatalistic, David. You mustn’t assume that things will go wrong.”

“Things always go wrong.” He set the hairbrush down with a clatter. “I’m the first guy he’s been with. Literally the first man he’s ever kissed. It’s… it’s like holding a baby bird in my hand while riding a roller coaster. Any minute now we’re going to go over a big drop and I’ll forget and” -- he closed his fist tightly -- “I’ll crush him.”

“A very evocative avian metaphor, darling, but Patrick’s a grown man, not a bébé bird. Inexperienced with some activities, I’m sure, but he doesn’t strike me as someone who can’t take care of himself.” She gave him a sidelong glance. “Are you sure you aren’t the bird on the ferris wheel, David?”

“I said roller coaster,” he responded petulantly. “And hardly.”

Moira looked unconvinced.

“God, what am I doing, getting involved with my business partner? This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever done in a… lifetime of dumb things,” he said with a flourish of his hand in the air. “I should end it now, before things get even messier.”

Tilting her head and regarded him for a moment, Moira reached out and put a hand on his bicep. “You’ve often put your heart in the care of people who have hurt you. But that isn’t because you are feeble-minded. It’s because those people weren’t worthy of you. Patrick, I think, may be worthy of you.”

“Okay, you barely know him.”

His mother just smiled. “I have a good feeling about him, that’s all. Have a little faith in the power of love.”

“Ew.”

She ignored that. “I implore you, David, don’t end things with him before they’ve even begun. Open your heart to the possibility of joy.”

“Ugh.” David went back to combing out the wig. “Fine.”

~*~

“Hey, do you wanna get a drink after rehearsal?” Patrick asked, which made Stevie narrow her eyes at him in confusion.

“David’s not expecting you?”

“We are capable of being apart for an evening.” At Stevie’s skeptical look, he added. “I told him you were stressed about the show and that I was planning to take you out for a drink.”

“So you lied.”

“No, I didn’t. You are stressed about the show, and I was planning to take you out for a drink.”

Patrick was being weird. “What’s going on, Brewer?”

“Nothing’s going on. I. want. to. get. a. drink. Do. you. want. to. get. a. drink.” Each word came out in a monotone.

She huffed. “Sure.”

“Great.” He looked simultaneously frustrated that she was being so difficult and yet pleased that she’d finally agreed.

When they were released by Moira from Cabaret rehearsal, sweaty and exhausted, Stevie was surprised when Patrick led her toward his car instead of down the street to the cafe. “Where are we going?”

“The Wobbly Elm,” he said, unlocking the passenger door and opening it for her.

“We could just go to the cafe,” she said, but she got in the car anyway. Going to the cafe meant she might have to sample one of Twyla’s terrible cocktail experiments.

Patrick got in the car and cranked the engine. “I find that when I have conversations in the cafe, somehow half the town knows what I was talking about by morning.”

Stevie’s suspicion meter edged up a couple more notches. “You are being really weird.”

“I know,” he said, pulling out onto the main road out of the center of town.

“If something bad is happening with David, or if something bad is about to happen, like if you’re planning to break up with him, you better tell me now. If you wait until I’ve got a drink in me at the bar, I might beat you with a pool cue and leave you for dead in the woods.”

Patrick laughed. “Nothing like that, I promise. I don’t think you’ll feel the temptation to beat me to death.” And then he changed the subject to Cabaret, and Stevie let him, because she had an infinite well of frustration to express about the show and her part in it.

He let her rant the whole way to the bar, but once they had their drinks ordered, he put a gentle hand on her arm. “You’re way too hard on your performance, you know. Your voice is actually really good.”

She snorted, taking a large pull from her beer. “It really isn’t. I know what singers are supposed to sound like, and I don’t sound like that.”

“Maybe not, but you sound real, and you sound vulnerable. You’re gonna be a fantastic Sally; I mean that.”

Stevie flushed, uncomfortable with the compliment. “Thanks,” she said, and then cleared her throat. “Okay, what did you drag me all the way out here for?” Now it was Patrick’s turn to look uncomfortable. “Oh. Well, there’s something I want to do, and I’m hoping that if it’s a terrible idea, you’ll talk me out of it.”

“Okay,” Stevie said slowly. “It probably is a terrible idea, but what the hell -- what is it?”

Patrick took a long drink from his beer glass as if for strength. “I’m thinking about asking David to marry me.”

Stevie almost choked on her beer. “Oh my God. Oh my God! Patrick!” She wanted to hug him, but she wasn’t sure if they were hugging friends, or non-hugging friends. “Patrick, that’s amazing!”

He just nodded. “Yes, but is it a terrible idea?”

She had to pause at that. Had David ever mentioned marriage to her, or what he thought of it? She didn’t think so. “Have you ever talked about marriage with him?”

“Not in those terms, but we’re starting to talk about… really long term things. Being together years from now, and what we might do. It just seems like that’s where his head is, like he finally trusts that I’m not going to lose interest in him. And I want to… I guess I’m just a traditional guy at heart and I’d really like to have that whole thing. The wedding. The vows and the cake and the dancing.” He rubbed his hand over his face. “But I don’t know. Maybe he won’t want that.”

“I might’ve assumed that about David at one point, that he wasn’t the marrying kind. But watching him with you, like the way he was with your parents, and planning your birthday party?” Stevie smiled, and then suddenly she had to force back tears. “I think if I had to place a bet on it, I’d bet on him saying yes.”

Patrick let out a breath he was holding. “Okay, cool. Okay.” And then he smiled one of his soft smiles at her. “So do I have your blessing?”

Her eyes widened. “My what?”

“I mean, I could ask his father, I guess, but I don’t think David would appreciate that. Also I don’t think Mr. Rose would be able to keep a secret. And anyway, I feel like you’re the… you’re like the guardian of David’s heart, if that makes sense. So I think you’re the one I should ask.”

The tears became impossible to hold back now. Stevie felt like the play was scraping her raw as it was, exposing a deep well of emotions just below the surface. Grabbing a cocktail napkin, she dabbed at her eyes. 

“Stevie, don’t cry, you’re gonna make me cry.”

Laughing, she handed him a cocktail napkin. “You’re such a softy.”

“I know, I know.”

“Yes, you have my blessing. I mean, I basically bullied David into realizing he was into you, so it would be pretty shitty of me not to give you my blessing to marry him.”

Patrick smirked at her. “Yeah, that would be pretty shitty, and you did what now?”

Stevie picked up her beer glass and clinked it against Patrick’s. “I love both you idiots.”

~*~

 “Stevie called us idiots,” Patrick mumbled as they were both drifting off to sleep.

“Yeah, her wedding toast left something to be desired, and the fact that I cried anyway just shows how ragged my emotions were today.”

“Not in the toast, I mean when I asked for her blessing to propose, she said ‘I love both you idiots’.”

David pressed his resulting grin against Patrick’s forehead. “That sounds like Stevie.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m so glad my family lost all our money. I’m so glad you couldn’t stay in your hometown anymore and that Ray posted that stupid job online. I’m so glad we made all the right decisions that led us to right here, right now,” David said in a rush, like he had to get the words out before he changed his mind about saying them.

Patrick put his hand over David’s where it rested on his hip and threaded their fingers together, bringing David’s hand to his lips. “Me too, sweetheart.”

END

[meshkol]

Twitter Threads (or That One Time Tony Dialled It Up to Eleven)

Summary: Social media is hard and full of trolls, and Tony has poor impulse control.

Notes: I hate this so much. Less cracky than I wanted it, because I suck at writing humour. Fill K-3 for the Tony Stark Bingo 2019: Gossip Press. Unbeta'd as per usual. Any relation to existing twitter handles is entirely coincidental.

Warnings: Social Media, Twitter, Homophobic Language, Sexist Language, Ableist Language, Internet, Trolls, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Goes On A Rampage

No one can say that Tony’s ever had good impulse control, especially about people he loves.

@1234ideclareathumbwar posted: I donno what it is about dr strange but he must suck dick like a pro if hes got iron man whipped god knows theres nothing attractive about him except those dick suckin lips #drstrange #ironman #wtfisstarkthinking

 @100percentDONE-xxx replied: yeah its not like he can give a decent handjob ffs must me the lips or maybe hes just tight every1 knows stark loves a tight whole hes prolly cheating neway poor cripple

 @itsawrapandimreadytoparty replied: Probably just lays there and thinks about the wizard gods just to get that $$$...I’d think of England even for a nymphomaniac drug-addicted sugar daddy too, tbh.

 @BlessYouThor-ness replied: still can’t believe he chose strange over THOR like everyone can see the chemistry between them and tony is such a bottom he’d take thor’s cock so well fuck yes

 @they-did-the-thing777 replied: is it just me or does strange look like an alien maybe there’s no magic at all just aliens and he’s got a tentacle dick and stark just wants to mark off another box on his worlds-biggest-slut checklist #tonystarkispathetic

 @snowflakes_makeme_lol replied: hes just fkn ugly i s2g stark id spread 4 but strange??? that bitch be ugly asf n not worth gettin my dk wet prolly get aids

 @YouKnowWhoIAm replied: You guys are the pinnacle of our evolution and I am in awe of your genuine kindness and polite generosity (and grammar). Wow, I can’t believe Stephen Strange saved all of your jerkass lives TWICE for this shit and you know what? Everyone knows I’M the cocksucker in this relationship, dumbfucks.

 @kiki_blow_this_popsicle_stand replied: HOLY SHIT LMAO

“What are you doing?”

He doesn’t bother looking up from his tablet, backing away from that thread because he has no interest in seeing the replies, and hunting for the next war he can wage. “Destressing,” he replies gleefully, clicking on a thread that mentions Pepper. He can feel Rhodey behind him – and, what’s more, he can feel the disapproval seeping out of his pores too now that he’s peeking over Tony’s shoulder – but he’s on a roll, and fuck impulse control when he can sass and bitch on twitter. Some people just need to be removed from the genetic pool of the human race and not be allowed to procreate, honestly.

Somewhere in bumbfuck-nowhere, Fury is having a coronary and Stephen is rolling his eyes so hard they’re permanently lodged in his cranium.

@rudethatyoureallamatwink posted: Does anyone else think that Pepper Potts only got the job at Stark because she’s got awesome legs and a great twat and Tony Stark wanted to stick his dick in? #idfuckher #pepperpotts #starkindustries #idfuckhimtootbh #tonystark

 @MyNameIsGoFuckYourself replied: lol ur gross shes like 35 or smth but wvr u want crusty ol lose pussy u do u bro #oldchickgross #getbotox

 @shredderinmymetal3-14 replied: @MyNameIsGoFuckYourself lmao wtf?? He started fucking her when she was like twenty or something so she was still nice and tight back then. I mean I’d still fuck her right now cause she’s one hot cougar and I bet she’s learned a thing or two from the Slut Extraordinaire. And anyway, how tf do you know what her cunt’s like?? The only hole you’ve fucked is your mom.

 @queeen-bee-says-hi replied: Wow, you guys are pigs. Pepper Potts is a strong, independent, beautiful woman who is worth a thousand of all you, and your mothers would be ashamed of you all.

 @gags_are_the_best_fight_me_bitch replied: @queeen-bee-says-hi hey look theres the feminazi if you want i can replace that stick up your pussy with my dick you know you need it ill fuck you real good show you what a real mans like

 @truthisanillusion replied: I’ll fuck @queeen-bee-says-hi AND @OfficialPotts_CEO at the same time fucking feminazi cunts, god knows you bitches would be grateful for my prick in your gaping lesbian pussies

 @YouKnowWhoIAm replied: Wow. So. Uh.

1. That’s revolting and my AI just delivered the IPs of @gags_are_the_best_fight_me and @truthisanillusion to the authorities for premeditated violence, rape, and hate crimes. You’re welcome, and feel free to send a cash donation to the charity of your choice for my thoughtfulness. I’d recommend something for women’s or LGBTQ+ rights, and I’ll match it with a multiplier of 1000x.

2. @queeen-bee-says-hi, good for you, and I can see from your profile that you’re a student. Consider your crops watered and your schooling paid for, all the way to your twelfth PhD if you want it.

3. @OfficialPotts_CEO can and will murder you with her pinky nail. I’ve taken on Thanos and I’d rather go ten rounds with him than piss her off. THAT’S why she’s CEO, not because of her admittedly awesome legs.

4. I hate this hellsite. If I buy it, can I kill it?? Rhodey says “technically” so I’m gonna look into that now.

 @i_stan_one_legend_named_virginia_p_potts replied: IRON MANNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!! DEFEND THE QUEEN!!!!!!!!!!! #PEPPERPOTTS4PRESIDENT

 @iaminlovewithcapandimunashamed replied: lmfao incels be fkd when #ironman comes to town

 @truthisanillusion replied: Hey @YouKnowWhoIAm No one trusts you or likes you, you fake ass super “hero” taking it up the ass like a faggot stfu and die already, kthxbye

 @queeen-bee-says-hi replied: whAT OH MY GOD THAT IS NOT NECESSARY

 @OfficialPotts_CEO replied: Tony, stop picking fights and threatening to buy twitter or I’ll ground you. And just accept the gift, @queeen-bee-says-hi - after all, he’s already done it.

 @YouKnowWhoIAm replied: Shut up Pepper, you aren’t the boss of me.

 @YouKnowWhoIAm replied: And jokes on you @truthisanillusion because I’m already dead inside come at me bitch I’ll be the one in the multi-billion-dollar suit of armor surrounded by Avengers

 @OfficialPotts_CEO replied: Actually, I am. Don’t make me take away your toys. Or call @Sorcerer_Supreme_With_A_Scalpel. He’s on speed-dial, sweetheart, and he likes me better than you.

 @YouKnowWhoIAm replied: Rude.

 @Sorcerer_Surpreme_With_A_Scalpel replied: The last time you threatened someone, your house got blown up. Please refrain from egging on internet trolls or I’ll dump you for Rhodes for my own sanity.

 @YouKnowWhoIAm replied: ALSO RUDE.

“You know, I’m not even remotely bi-curious and I would totally tap that,” Rhodey says absently, though his lips are quirking into a smirk.

Tony rolls his eyes. “Hands off, you little shit, or I’ll tweet about that one time in MIT when you ate that—”

“Fuck you.”

“Been there, done that,” Tony quips cheerfully. “Not remotely bi-curious my ass—”

“You know what’s better than picking fights with twelve-year-olds on twitter? Kicking your ass right here. You come at me, Stank.”

Tony opens his mouth to reply but then gasps, already losing himself in another thread after sending a middle finger emoji into the last one.

@mwahahaha-666 posted: You guys can wax poetry about Tony Stark all you want, but screw that basic-ass rich boy - everyone knows Doctor Strange is the smokin’ hot one. #takemenow #mybodyisready #drstrange

 @ukulele_jedi_master replied: PREACH!!! stark may be loaded but stephen is the one that looks like a prada model giMME THAT MAGICAL DICK

 @xxx-foreverfit-xxx replied: Fuck both of you. I just wanna be a fly on the wall when they’re fucking each other...or better yet, DIRECT them on how to ruin each other #ironstrange #otp

 @highpercentageofuselessnessachieved replied: i wonder if he can clone himself like can u imagine?? being fucked from all ends by #drstrange cock?? what i wouldn’t give to be tony stark omfg i don’t even want the money just the hard dickin from that fine piece of ass

 @its_a_fact_that_captain_america_has_a_big_dick replied: He’s got Iron Man wrapped around his little finger so he must have the biggest dick and the know-how to use it properly. Yes pls and thank you very much, I’ll take that monster dick pronto.

 @TGBYHN_4_LYFE replied: dude i tell u what i would do what @xxx-foreverfit-xxx said: sit in the corner w a ridign crop in 9’’ stilettos rubbin myself while directing them 2 do what i want...make em touch n stroke n suck n bite n fuck each other til they cant walk anymore n then cuddle w them n stroke their hair

 @catcatcatcat-cat replied: I would give my college education, my life, my cow, and my internet access away for the rest of my life for a sex tape

 @xxx-foreverfit-xxx replied: @TGBYHN_4_LYFE omfg fuCK YES CAN YOU IMAGINE listening to them moan as they lost themselves in each oter, so fucking desperate to get off that they’re begging you to let them cum even as they try their hardest to obey, covered in precum and sweat and hot as fuck

 @bigfoot_is_nessie1987 replied: I s2g the amount of fanfiction I write about those two alone should have me committed but I literally can’t stop the two of them are so fucking hot together that it should be illegal god bless Iron Man and Dr Strange and their sexy, sexy chemistry and sexy, sexy bodies #killme

 @one-upon-a-time-in-asgard2 replied: They are the hottest couple in the history of the universe and so fucking pure I love them both so much also @bigfoot_is_nessie1987 I demand a link to your fics cuz I’m always looking for more ironstrange porn #otp #ironstrange

 @YouKnowWhoIAm replied: @Sorcerer_Supreme_With_A_Scalpel Hey, they think you have a big dick. Little do they know that they’re totally right and that you also have the added bonus of actually BEING a big dick too! #dontthreatentoleavemeforplatypus #orilltagyouinthirstposts #awesomethirstposts #stephenhasabigdick #andiloveit #goodshit

 @mwahahaha-666 replied: OH MY DUCKING GOD

 @its_a_fact_that_captain_america_has_a_big_dick replied: Well, I’d be mortified that Tony Stark is replying to this except Tony Stark is acTUALLY REPLYING TO THIS BLESS YOU IRON MAN

 @Sorcerer_Supreme_With_A_Scalpel replied: One of these days I’m going to murder you with your own bravado and not lose a night’s sleep over it. And fine, I won’t touch Rhodes...I’m sure Rogers is free anyway, and he’s always so polite when I visit.

 @bigfoot_is_nessie1987 replied: Please don’t read my fanfiction I will literally combust in embarrassment also I am dying over here in Copenhagen omfg

 @YouKnowWhoIAm replied: BRO CODE, DUDE. YOU’RE VIOLATING THE BRO CODE. I HATE YOU SO MUCH AND I WANT A DIVORCE.

 @catcatcatcat-cat replied: ...oh my god what does that mean you guys are MARRIED??!?! BLESS THE WIZARD GODS!!!!

 @Sorcerer_Supreme_With_A_Scalpel replied: Rhodes, I know you’re reading over his shoulder, so if you could please take away his phone now before he ends up on the cover of the Times...or breaks the internet. Again. Thank you in advance.

Tony reacts immediately, trying to make a break for it, but Rhodey’s already tackling him into the couch, a hundred and ninety pounds of lean muscle and pretty Class As. Tony hisses breathlessly, the wind knocked out of him, and he struggles valiantly to keep his hands on his tablet while Rhodey does his best to rip it away. He doesn’t have a very good position so he makes a hair-brained, split-second decision to throw his body weight to the side, making them both roll off the couch. Rhodey’s a jerk though, and manages to react fast enough so that Tony takes the brunt of the impact, and he can’t even help but groan in a mixture of mild pain and disappointment as he feels the tablet being removed from his lax fingers.

“Sucks to be you, Stank,” he says breathlessly, fingers flying over the keyboard, and Tony cranes his neck until he can read Rhodey’s reply (and on Tony’s fucking account what in the hell!):

@YouKnowWhoIAm replied: I think I broke your hot mess of a husband, Stephen. Come collect him before he murders me with his eyes or gets his hands on another electronic device. We’re in the lab.

Three seconds later, Stephen walks through a portal, looking oh-so-fucking-gorgeous in his battle robes, and wearing a scowl of irritation that bodes well for rough, mock-angry sex in the near future.

Tony grins unapologetically, and abandons the lure of social media in exchange for his pseudo husband.

It’s an easy choice.

Also read on ao3.

Feel free to prompt me things on my Bingo Card!

[justanoutlawfic]

Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas: A Scrabble Future Shot

For day 3 of @charmingfamilychristmas. :) A look into the future of Snowing in this verse.

Also on AO3/FF

Emma’s first Christmas hadn’t been what they imagined. Between moving into their new house and Emma being so small, they were so busy. They barely managed to get up a small tree and exchanged gifts, but it had honestly been like any other day.

 Her second, however, was different. Things had settled down, all of the boxes were unpacked in their house. Emma squirmed in her mother’s arms as they picked out their tree together as a family. She was just over a year old and was very active. From the moment she was born, she was wiggly and quick, that only got worse once she learned how to crawl and she was now learning to walk as well. She kept reaching for the different trees, obviously planning on scaling the first one she could get her hands on.

 “No, no, Emmy,” Mary Margaret said, adjusting her in her arms.

“No,” Emma repeated.

“Clever girl.” David grinned over at his daughter and kissed her nose.

Emma smiled and reached her arms out for him. “Da-dee.”

“Right here, princess.” He took her into his arms and Mary Margaret shook her head, though a smile remained on her face.

“She is such a daddy’s girl,” she said.

“That she is. My little partner in crime.”

“How about you and your partner in crime pick out a tree?”

 David’s smile remained and he wrapped an arm around Mary Margaret’s waist as they surveyed the lot. Growing up, they would’ve just chopped down a tree on the farm. However, he didn’t feel there were any good enough on their own farm. Besides, Mary Margaret had fond memories of going with her parents to pick out their tree, before Eva died.

 Eventually, they walked past a tree they both agreed was beautiful. It was full and would fit the ornaments they had collected along the way. David leaned in close to inspect the inside and Emma latched onto a branch.

 “Emma,” he tried to give her a serious look and she gazed up at him with her big green eyes. “Hey now, those aren’t fair, little missy.” He managed to move her tiny hand from the limb and before she could fuss, Mary Margaret placed her favorite stuffed lamb in it.

 Once they had paid, they were able to bring it home and settled Emma in her playpen. Mary Margaret opened the lid of decorations and grinned when she found the most recent ornament she had received, last year. While it had been lowkey, she and David had exchanged presents. He had the photo ornament made up for them, including a picture of the three of them. They stood in front of their snow covered house, Emma snug in her arms, wrapped up in her baby blanket.

“Can you believe she was ever that small?” She asked, showing it to David.

He shook his head. “She’s grown up so fast, this past year has been such a crazy ride.”

“Would you change anything about it?”

“Of course not.” He pecked her lips. “I’m just glad we can actually enjoy the holidays this year.”

 They continued to decorate the tree, most of Mary Margaret’s ornaments were the proper ones you’d expect. David’s were homemade for the most part and came in a tiny box he had kept from his childhood. George had attempted to erase many of the evidence of their old life when they moved to Storybrooke, but he had hidden it from him. There was no way he would let him take away the few good memories he had left of his parents.

 When they were done and the lights were plugged in, Mary Margaret lifted a half-asleep Emma from her playpen. They stood back, staring at in awe.

 “It’s empty for now,” David said. “But in a few weeks, it’ll be filled with presents.”

“Definitely.” Mary Margaret kissed his cheek. “For now, let’s get this little sugar plum off to bed and we can do a little early celebrating of our own.”

A twinkle fell over David’s eyes. “Sounds good to me.”

 David was right, over the next few weeks, presents gathered beneath the tree. Despite Emma not being old enough to get Santa, they had decided to wait to put out her presents until then. It didn’t stop from other people delivering their presents so Emma could open them the day of. A large portion came from Regina and Mallory, though there was quite the chunk from Gold and Belle as well. They didn’t have any blood family to speak of, but Emma didn’t lack for love, not even a little bit.

 Christmas Eve, David came in from the fields to find Mary Margaret decorating cookies with Emma sitting next to her on the counter. The baby was wearing a Santa costume, complete with a little hat. They knew it was cheesy, but they were doing all they could to get in the Christmas spirit. David chuckled when he saw the cookies she had made. They were in the shape of Mickey Ears, being decorated in Christmas colors. Emma was distracted by nibbling on a cookie of her own that Mary Margaret had given her.

 “These are so cute,” David said.

“You know Disney is one of my favorite places. I can’t wait until we get to take Emma.”

“Maybe next Christmas.”

Mary Margaret’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

He shrugged. “Why not? Me and my girls, in the most magical place on Earth.” He pulled Mary Margaret closer to him, making sure he also had a grip on Emma, as he kissed her.

She smiled. “Can you take her? I have to finish these up before I start getting my sides ready for tomorrow.” They were all due to go to Regina’s, where their makeshift family would all celebrate together after opening presents with their respective ones.

“Sure. I need to wrap one last present.”

 He winked, which just made Mary Margaret sigh. Every year, it was tradition that he and his brother would open one present Christmas year. Typically, they were holiday themed pajamas. It was a tradition he was keeping up with Mary Margaret, one she anticipated, but she hated the suspense of not knowing what he got her. Any other time, he would’ve dropped hints, but this Christmas was different.

 Picking up Emma, he carried her upstairs. Technically, the present wasn’t anything he needed to buy. It was something he kept in his sock drawer, just as he had in any other place he had lived. Lifting it out, he flipped open the lid and smiled at the emerald stone.

 “What do you think, Ems?” He asked, bouncing her a bit. “Think Mommy will say yes?”

“Mama,” Emma babbled, resting her head on his shoulder.

“I think I’ll be lucky if she doesn’t think I’m crazy for waiting so long.”

 Many people had questioned his sanity on that one. They had gotten together before Emma was born and it had been over a full year since. It wasn’t as if they needed time to get to know one another, they had their entire lives. There was no doubting that they shared love. Yet, he wanted to wait for the right moment. No matter how he tried to plan it, nothing worked.

 He couldn’t wait anymore. He wanted to get married, he wanted to start that next step. They already had a daughter, a house, there were talks of a dog. It was finally time to walk down the aisle.

 Later that evening, when a fire had been lit and Emma was changed into her early present (a pair of candy cane pajamas from Ashley), David and Mary Margaret sat on the couch together. She handed him a medium sized box, neatly wrapped in silver paper. He removed it and opened the lid, smiling at what was inside, a navy blue, fuzzy sweater.

 “Mary Margaret, I love this, thank you.” He always ran cold and tended to wear lots of layers.

“You’re welcome, I saw it and thought of you.”

He slid the sweater over his flannel shirt and passed her his gift. He wasn’t the best at wrapping, but he had tried. So she wouldn’t be suspicious, he had chosen elf giftwrapping. “Your turn.”

 She carefully unwrapped the gift, clearly intending on saving the paper. She raised an eyebrow when she saw the velvet box, it looked a little familiar. Flipping it open, she found Ruth’s ring inside. A gasp escaped her lips and she looked up at David. He smiled and got down on one knee in front of her.

 “Mary Margaret, I love you, I’ve been in love with you for years, I was just too silly to realize it. You have given me everything I ever wanted and more. We have a beautiful daughter, an amazing life together. There’s just one thing missing,” he tilted his head to the side. “Us finally being married.” Her mouth was still open, staring at him with tears in her eyes. He took the ring from her. “You tried this on, when I moved into your loft. Now, I never want it off your finger.” Slowly, he let out a deep breath. “Will you marry me?”

 Mary Margaret slowly held out her hand and he raised an eyebrow. She hadn’t answered him yet, had he? Had he somehow missed it? Even so, he slid it onto her finger and she held up her hand, smiling in spite of her tears.

 “What do you think?” She asked. A wide smile went across his face and she pulled him up so she could cradle his face in her hands as they kissed. He moved so he was back together, his arms around her. “I love you, David.”

“I love you too,” he whispered, caressing her chin. “Always have, always will.”

She gazed up into his eyes. “So, why wait?”

“Huh?”

“6:00 mass probably just let out, Archie would be free. The Golds, Regina and Mal didn’t have any Christmas Eve plans.” She shrugged. “Let’s do it now, get married.”

“We can’t plan a wedding in 15 minutes.”

“So, we’ll have a bigger party later. I don’t want to wait any longer. All I want for Christmas is for me to be your wife,” she tilted her head to the side, just as he normally did. “What do you say, David? Will you marry me, tonight?”

He grinned. “I’d love to.”

 Making quick calls to the minister and their friends, they rushed around to get married. Mary Margaret had lost a majority of her baby weight, but didn’t exactly have any white dresses that were fit for a wedding. She found the wine colored dress she had been planning on wearing to dinner the next evening and decided it’d be perfect. It wasn’t as if her wearing white meant anything. David got himself ready in a navy blue button down and black slacks.

 Then there was the matter of Emma. Every time they tried putting her in a dress, she threw a massive tantrum. Looking at each other, they could tell they were thinking the same thing. Why couldn’t she wear her Santa costume? It was their wedding, whatever they wanted, went.

 Regina managed to get the marriage certificate while Mal was in charge of flowers. David venmo’d Gold money to bring rings from his shop and Belle picked out passages for Archie to read. Henry, Baelfire and Gideon were also in tow as they showed up at their house.  Everyone was wearing what they had before, nothing too fancy. David slid on his coat, standing next to Archie outside under the fairy lights they had strung at the beginning of the holiday season. Everyone else was gathered in chairs, Emma in Regina’s arms. Mal reached over, pressing play on her phone so a soft instrumental song would play.

 The French door opened and Mary Margaret walked out of the house. Her pea coat nearly matched the color of her dress and she was wearing her usual black beanie. As she walked across the snow covered grass, a bouquet of snowbells in her hands, David realized he had never seen a woman look as beautiful. His wedding to Kathryn had been too hectic for him to enjoy. This was relaxed, this was all about love.

 She reached him, taking his hand and looking into his beautiful blue eyes. Archie smiled at the two, adjusting his notebook in front of him.

 “Shakespeare says “Love is not love, which alters when alternation finds.” It reminds me of one of my favorite bible passages. 1st Corinthians, chapter 13, verses 4 through 8. Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails…And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love. That is what we are here to celebrate, a love that has never altered or faded, one that was patient and waited until they were ready.” Archie pushed his glasses up on his face. “They’ve had quite the road, but they’ve gotten there together.”

 David swung his and Mary Margaret’s hands as she mouthed “I love you” to him. Archie said more and they were fairly certain that Regina was actually tearing up in the front row, but they seemed to only be able to pay attention to one another, until Gold stepped forward, handing Archie the rings.

 “David, do you take Mary Margaret to be thy wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, as long as you both shall live?” Archie asked.

David smiled, the answer was the easiest he had ever given, sliding the ring in front of the engagement one he had put on just an hour prior. “I do.”

“Mary Margaret, do you take David to be thy wedded husband...”

It was the longest few seconds of her life as she listened to him repeat the same speech. “I do,” she said, once it was over, sliding the ring onto David’s left ring finger.

“By the power invested in me, by the state of Maine, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

“Can I kiss my wife now?” David asked.

Mary Margaret beamed. “You better.”

 David pulled her into his arms, kissing her passionately. Their friends stood up, clapping. Even Emma did, though she didn’t know what she was clapping over. Regina carried her over to the newly married couple, placing her in their arms. She pulled out a camera, laughing slightly.

“About time, idiots,” she said, snapping a picture.

 Mary Margaret laughed while rolling her eyes, leaning into David. She gazed up into his eyes.

 “Merry Christmas, David,” she whispered.

“Merry Christmas, Mary Margaret.” He kissed Emma’s beanie clad head. “And Merry Christmas, Princess.”

  Through the years we all will be together If the fates allow Hang a shining star upon the highest place So have yourself a merry little Christmas

[theangelmojo]

4am Wiki Adventures

I typed “Lord Byron” into Wiki. Don’t ask me why. Those early morning hours, you know.

And I knew stuff about him before, but not stuff. Not like the stuff Wiki can, so I was not prepared for the awesome of Lord Byron. 

This guy’s insane, like, he is The King of Le Drama. The biggest drama-llama to ever ding-dong, I stg. He takes extreme to a whole new level. Like, you know those posts where they go “well that escalated quickly”, he is that. 

So I have some facts I’d like to share. Random facts. Hilarious facts. Facts that are totally unnecessary and unimportant to know, but are the thing I am probably gonna think about for the next solid week. 

Hold onto your hats, folks, we’re in for a long ride. 

1. His father was a douche. Only married women for their money, bled them for that money, stuck babies in them and then ditched them. What an asshole.

2. He had Issues with his mom, who was understandably depressed because of her asshole husband, and reportedly called her “short and fat” (assholery is genetic, probs). In return she had Issues with him, but also spoilt him and is part of the reason Byron is well known for being stupid with his money (also genetic, probs). 

THIS CONTINUES FOR A WHILE, SO I’LL PUT THIS UNDER THE CUT TO SPARE YOUR DASH, SORRY

3. He started falling in love with people at a reaaaaally young age. Like, whoa son, steady on chap. His first crush was a distant cousin (Mary Duff) at the age of 8, who he then forgot about till he turned 16 and found out she was gonna get married. Then he remembered her and was like oh heck, how will my heart go on and wrote a big paragraph about it, wherein he acknowledged the fact that his feelings were ridiculous but nevertheless intense and true. 

4. That one wasn’t a sexual love though, apparently, but he also acknowledges that he started developing shall we say certain ‘cravings’ at a considerably young age. He claims this is partly the reason why he writes like he does. In his own words: “Perhaps this was one of the reasons that caused the anticipated melancholy of my thoughts — having anticipated life.”

5. At this point there are a bunch of people who want to claim that his, how shall we put it, ‘young sexual awakening’?? is the reason for his “sexual propensities”. Like, no dude, he’s just bi. Accept it.

(I’d like to cut in here and say that the next fact made me very sad. Very very sad. 4am Me was not prepared for the sudden hit of sadness and started sniffling a lot. Prepare yo’self.)

6. There are reports that he was sexually abused as a kid. One of his abusers was one of his caretakers, Mary Gray, who was later dismissed when he turned 11. She also used this abuse as a way of keeping him silent about the bad company she kept. I mean like, holy shit, that is such a nasty bitch. My god, I hate reading about stuff like this. (4am in the morning and I whimpered “poor baby” to myself, blinking through tears) Then this guy called Lord Gray De Ruthyn, who was also one of his mother’s suitors, also forced himself on Byron. The poor little guy was “deeply disturbed by this” (no shit) and apparently never told his mom, which in hindsight is probably part of the reason for his Issues with her. My god, this guy was so destined to be an angst-writer. Jesus Christ. 

And then some asshole historians or god knows who have the audacity to suggest that these events led to him having sexual liaisons with men at college like what the fuck. How many times do you have to say “he was bi” till it gets through their fucking skulls mother of god --

Moving on.

7. Onto the more interesting and hilarious facts. His first male loves were found at Harrow, where he found a fondness for a bunch of lads, all named John. John FitzGibbon, John Thomas Claridge, John Edleston, John Cam Hobhouse. Must have been real confusing trying to navigate all these Johns, but one thing he knew for sure is that he definitely likes boys too. 

8. Proof of him liking them boys is him pouring all his fucking money on them. This guy was such a freaking Sugar Daddy. Jesus. He left £7000 in his will to a 14 year old boy he met in Athens who taught him Italian. I mean, the sum of money got cancelled, but still. Come on, By. This isn't even the only time he shoved his money at a guy, no siree, but we’ll get to that part later.

9. The most likely reason he left England was because of his reportedly incestuous relationship with his half-sister Augusta Leigh. Ugh. Okay, this one grossed me out, but he like, had children with her too, apparently. Around this time he also got married to Annabella Millbanke and had a kid (Ada Lovelace!!) with her, but their marriage was too shit and she thought he was insane so she left him. All this scandal forced him to leave due to all the rumours circulating, plus the fact that he was majorly in debt too at the time. No surprise there.

10. Once he left England, he never came back. He went to Belgium. Then to Switzerland, where he met another John -- John William Polidori, who became his physician, and there he also befriended Percy Bysshe Shelley, and Mary Shelley (née Godwin). He had another affair with another lady, this time Clair Clairmont, who was Mary’s stepsister. Got her pregnant too. 

11. This lovely bunch of drama-llamas then got rained in, and due to the shitty weather they were stuck indoors for 3 days. During this time they read a bunch of cool horror stories, which then inspired them to write their own. Yes guys, this is where Frankenstein was born, but not only that -- John William Polidori also wrote The Vampyre (with a Y) which is The Start of the romantic vampire genre. That’s right folks -- thanks to this guy, we have Twilight. (But in all honesty, his story is far better, go check it out.)

12. Byron is super clever. No surprise there, but an example of this is that he learnt the Armenian language and culture well enough over a couple years to write books on it. He was passionate about Armenian culture and history, dude, like he proper went for it, and his writings and teachings inspired a wave of Armenian poets and writers. Not bad, Byron. Not bad.

13. Dude falls in love every-freaking-where, and not casual love, oh no -- he falls madly in love every fucking time. Where does he get the energy? God only knows. This time he falls for this 18 year old Countess, Teresa Guiccioli, and ends up eloping with her. Thing is, she’s married. (Byron NO)

14. Byron likes animals to the degree that Damian Wayne likes animals (sorry for the Batman reference, but I can’t help it, it’s who I am), ergo: he loves them. In one of Shelley’s letters, he describes the house as such: “Lord B.’s establishment consists, besides servants, of ten horses, eight enormous dogs, three monkeys, five cats, an eagle, a crow, and a falcon; and all these, except the horses, walk about the house, which every now and then resounds with their unarbitrated quarrels, as if they were the masters of it… [P.S.] I find that my enumeration of the animals in this Circean Palace was defective… I have just met on the grand staircase five peacocks, two guinea hens, and an Egyptian crane.” Get on that, Dami. You’ve got a long way to go to reach this level.

To add to this fact, he also had a Newfoundland dog called Boatswain (???) who he loved so much that when the animal contracted rabies, he nursed him “without any thought or fear of becoming bitten and infected.” (cue: 4am Me hysterically sobbing about this). Also, even though he was in debt at the time, Byron commissioned a funerary monument to be built for Boatswain at Newstead Abbey, which was the only building work which he ever carried out on his estate. The thing was bigger than his own grave, and in his 1811 Will (what is this guy with Wills), he requested that he be buried with him. Also, he wrote a 26‐line poem called "Epitaph to a Dog" in honour of Boatswain. That is some serious dog-love there, you have to give him that, and as I said before: he never falls casually in love, only ever madly.

ANOTHER THING. I’m just gonna quote this straight from Wiki cos I can’t put it any better: “Byron also kept a tame bear while he was a student at Trinity, out of resentment for rules forbidding pet dogs like his beloved Boatswain. There being no mention of bears in their statutes, the college authorities had no legal basis for complaining. Byron even suggested that he would apply for a college fellowship for the bear.” Byron, my man, that is So Extra. (“What’s that? I can’t have a dog here? Well, no problem, I’ll just get a bear.” “BYRON, Byron what the fuck. Where did you even get a bear? Bears aren't indigenous to England.” “He’s very intelligent. Loves to read. Heck, lemme get him enrolled here.” “Byron what the fuck.”)

15. Skipping ahead a little, he ends up in Genoa, right, and gets Bored. Probably because of lack of pets. Possibly because he’s not Fallen Madly In Love with anyone recently, though he’s still technically ‘with’ the Countess, let’s be real -- this boy isn't good with commitment. So, he gets bored and this is where he starts getting involved with the movement for Greek independence from the Ottoman Empire. He realises he still has his lady with him but cannot join this military movement whilst she’s still around, so he ends up shipping her back to her dad (dick move, Byron). 

Then this guy called Edward Blaquiere tries to recruit him, and Byron realises he has no fucking clue what he’s meant to be doing. In his own words: "Blaquiere seemed to think that I might be of some use-even here;-though what he did not exactly specify". Get it together, Byron, FFS. He boards a ship called Hercules (ha ha) to go to Greece, and the poor Countess lady weeps while waving him goodbye, but then Hercules has to return to port, so that dramatic farewell wasn’t nearly as dramatic as he’d probably been hoping for. Oh well.

Moving on -- 

(-- okay, to be honest, I kind of glossed over the whole part with his involvement in the war. I mostly picked out the parts that stood out to my 5am Brain, which were mostly to do with money or the boys he was eyeing. No offence meant in the way I’ve interpreted things. I fully blame the fact that I should have stopped reading Wiki five hours ago, but didn’t, and also I have a dumb sense of humour.)

16. Byron chucks money at the Greeks. Where did he get this money? No one knows, but he gives the Souliots £6000. Then, to be fair, he gets fed up of them asking for more and more money. He cuts off the Souliots and tells them to get stuffed. 

At some point he sells his estate, Rochdale Manor in Scotland, which gets him some £11,250, which means Byron has something like £20,000 altogether, all of which he plans on giving to the Greek cause. “In today's money Byron would have been a millionaire many times over, and the news that a fabulously wealthy British aristocrat known for his generosity in spending money had arrived in Greece made Byron the object of much solicitation in a desperately poor country like Greece.” Byron, old chap, that is super generous of you but what the fuck. I kept thinking to myself, reading this, what the fuckkkk?? Like, the cockles of my heart were warmed, but my brain couldn't comprehend it. May I remind you, he got into this because he was B O R E D, and now he’s throwing all his money at this ??? What even a r e  y o u  B y r o n ? ? ?

I don’t mean to make any judgements here, but this is then where Byron draws some Attention to himself again. Throwing all this money around -- it’s no surprise that suddenly all the different Greek factions start to fight over him, and in my 5am Brain, all I could see was Byron being like “kids, pls, stahp” and getting all exasperated with it. In Wiki’s much better written words: “he complained that the Greeks were hopelessly disunited and spent more time feuding with each other than in trying to win independence.”

17. As a little ‘aside’, whilst all of this is happening, Byron falls in love. Again. Madly. To another boy. This time his Greek page, Lukas Chalandritsanos, who he spent some £600 (equivalent to about £24,600 in today's money) over the course of six months on, and wrote his last poems about his passion for. Holy hell, Byron, control yourself please. And then Wiki slams down the coldest line to all this drama and goes: “but Chalandritsanos was only interested in Byron's money” -- and I’m sorry, I almost peed myself laughing. Omg Byron, that is cold. 

18. Spoiler alert: Byron dies young. He dies at 36, just before setting sail on an expedition. On 15 February 1824, he falls ill and then, my friends, comes the usual, in the form of the typical historical medical fuck-up remedy of bloodletting. When I read this I legitimately SMH, because how many books have I read where they use bloodletting to try to cure someone and SHOCK HORROR, it ends up killing them? Poor guy gets made worse by it, makes a partial recovery, but then catches a violent cold which then more therapeutic bleeding (insisted on by his doctors) ends up making worse. It is suspected that this treatment, carried out with unsterilised medical instruments, may have caused sepsis, and then he dies. 

Sometimes, looking back on historical medicine and treatment methods... I realise how lucky we are nowadays, to know better. Things like this also remind me that despite how much I’d like to go back in time to see history and stuff, it’s probably not a good idea. Not only because of this, but also the lack of plumbing. And hygiene. And sanitation. And wifi -- omg no internet, no thank you.

19. So, to end it all, Byron’s English friends are shocked to hear he’s died, and his Greek friends all mourn him as a hero. 

20. Now, to describe how Byron looks... according to Wiki, he was: “5 feet 8.5 inches (1.74 m), his weight fluctuating between 9.5 stone (133 lb; 60 kg) and 14 stone (200 lb; 89 kg). He was renowned for his personal beauty, which he enhanced by wearing curl-papers in his hair at night.” Ha ha ha, ha... 

Then he’s also famous for having Foot Issues, namely a deformity of his right foot. Whether he’s clubfooted, a consequence of infantile paralysis, or dysplasia -- what’s agreed is he had Foot Issues. The Foot gave him a limp, and “caused him lifelong psychological and physical misery, aggravated by painful and pointless "medical treatment" in his childhood and the nagging suspicion that with proper care it might have been cured.” At this point, in my head I went ‘awww, poor baby’, and felt sorry for him (I still do), but then I read on, and.

Byron was his usual Byron-like self about it, so I couldn't help but giggle.

Firstly, he nicknamed himself ‘le diable boiteux’ (French for "the limping devil", also the nickname given to Asmodeus by Alain-René Lesage in his 1707 novel of the same name). 

Secondly, although he often wore specially-made shoes in an attempt to hide The Foot, he refused to wear any type of brace that might improve The Limp. Byron, seriously, wear the brace. A Scottish novelist (John Galt) said he felt his oversensitivity to the "innocent fault in his foot was unmanly and excessive" because the limp was "not greatly conspicuous". 

[He first met Byron on a voyage to Sardinia and did not realise he had any deficiency for several days, and still could not tell at first if the lameness was a temporary injury or not but by the time he met Byron he was an adult and had worked to develop "a mode of walking across a room by which it was scarcely at all perceptible". The motion of the ship at sea may also have helped to create a favourable first impression and hide any deficiencies in his gait, but Galt's biography is also described as being "rather well-meant than well-written", so Galt may be guilty of minimising a defect that was actually still noticeable]

Byron. Oh Byron. I feel sorry that he was so self-conscious of his foot deformity, don’t get me wrong, but I can’t help but also giggle imagining him doing all this. It’s so dramatic. This boy. 

In short, simply from reading the Wiki article on Lord George Gordon Byron, I feel incredibly fond of, exasperated by, entertained by, and confused by this hugely influential, incredibly dramatic and complex historical figure.

I already love reading poems and quotes by him, but knowing more about him now... I am also inspired by him. Even from just a Wiki article, even from just reading this one source about his life at a questionable time of night -- I feel like I understand better why people have coined the term “Byronic hero” in honour of him. 

[The Byronic hero presents an idealised, but flawed character whose attributes include: great talent; great passion; a distaste for society and social institutions; a lack of respect for rank and privilege (although possessing both); being thwarted in love by social constraint or death; rebellion; exile; an unsavory secret past; arrogance; overconfidence or lack of foresight; and, ultimately, a self-destructive manner. These types of characters have since become ubiquitous in literature and politics.]

I see Byronic heroes all over the place. In all my fandoms, in all walks of life. From the classic Heathcliff to the likes of the Hunchback of Notre Dame (sobs), to The Phantom of the Opera (sobs), to Lestat from Interview with a Vampire, to Batman (LOLs), to fucking Edward Cullen from Twilight (gags).

The drama-llama lives on in all types of characters, in so many fictional worlds. As someone who lives to read and loves to write, I am completely unsurprised that stumbling across a Wiki page such as his has moved me so deeply, because in so many ways it was like reading a fanfic (albeit the driest, flattest fanfic I’ve ever read in my life). In so many ways I saw so many of my favourite characters written in his life, and by golly, it’s just fantastic to think that he actually lived in our world, isn't it? To think that and know that is both wonderful and strange. 

So, without anything left to add to this long, ridiculous post, I apologise for rambling on about a dead poet and contributing absolutely no new information to what is already known about him. I am aware all I’m doing is regurgitating old facts and basically oohing and ahhing over them, like an idiot. All I can say is I’m glad for Wiki, and Jesus Christ, I’ve got to start going to bed earlier than this. 

Auf wiedersehen. 

[douchebagbrainwaves]

IT WAS IMPRESSIVE EVEN TO ASK THE QUESTIONS THEY DID

He said VCs told him this almost never happened. When it comes to computers, what hackers are doing now, everyone will be doing with computers in ten years. At this stage I end up with a world in which Windows is irrelevant. And this I think would severely constrain them. In the humanities you can either avoid drawing any definite conclusions e. Would it be so bad to add a spoonful of sugar to make the medicine go down. An area without railroads or power was a rich potential market. Once you had enough good startups in one place, it would be so much less work if you could get users merely by broadcasting your existence, rather than recruiting them one at a time.

Needless to say, my imitations didn't say anything either.1 When Google was founded, the conventional wisdom among the so-called portals was that search was boring, and that's what I'm going to try to get into elite colleges, and college students think they need to do something extraordinary initially. But I was never able to figure out our own customs for getting free of it. Worse still, the usefulness test will tend to prevail. Hardware startups face an obstacle that software startups don't.2 But I tried to read Plato and Aristotle. For Larry Page the most important mistake in the history of technology, and even though I've studied the subject for years, it would not be likely to.3 When I interviewed Mark Zuckerberg at Startup School, he said that while it was a particularly prestigious line of work, done by a class of people called philosophers. Before central governments were powerful enough to enforce order, rich people had private armies.4

But hacking is like writing.5 Many of which will make you a better parent when you do have kids. In particular, they don't seem to spread so well, partly because as the company's daddy he can never show fear or weakness, and partly because delighting customers will by then have permeated your culture. The tendency to clump means it's more like the square of the environment. They were so beautifully typeset, and their tone was just captivating—alternately casual and buffer-overflowingly technical. Though rarely asked out loud, this question lurks uncomfortably in the back of every art student's mind. But I do at least know now why I didn't. They were not even on a path to your door as promised. Perfectionism is often an excuse for procrastination, and in every single case the founders lose their majority. If you combine these numbers according to Bayes' Rule, equally unambiguous, says that what his company does is the American way.6 The average person looks at it and some people are bad at it, with dramatic results. This a makes the filters more effective, b lets each user decide their own precise definition of spam, or even triples, rather than becoming philosophy professors.

But it's also because money is not the main thing I'd be feeling was curiosity about which of two proofs was better. Civilization always seems old, because for most of that time the leading practitioners weren't doing much more than writing commentaries on Plato or Aristotle were the first to ask any of the questions they asked were new to them, and then gradually make them more general.7 It was simply a fad. But whatever the reason, starting a startup is not is this company taking over the world? So part of learning to ski is learning to suppress that impulse. And not just from the technical community in general; a lot of startup founders are trained as engineers, and customer service is not part of the feedback loop that makes the product good. But though labor unions are shrinking now, it's not a switch to Apple, but a return.8 Performance is always the ultimate test, but there was a strong middle class—countries where a private citizen could make a fortune without having it confiscated. They can circumvent any other barrier you set up. An area without railroads or power was a rich potential market.

I explained this as code to show a couple of important details.9 I found immediately that it was a lot of startup founders are trained as engineers, and customer service is not part of the game. But it was also something we'd never considered a computer could be: fabulously well designed. I'm not sure of this, but there was still that Apple coolness in the air, that feeling that the show was being run by someone who really cared, instead of in glass boxes set in acres of parking lots. If all you need to raise the money to manufacture your product. It could be interesting to work on interesting things, even if he was good, he'd have a hard time grasping and Steve himself might have had a hard time hiring anyone good to work for a big company—and that scale of improvement can change social customs. And you'll do it best if you introduce the ulterior motive toward the end of the spectrum could be detected by what appeared to be unrelated tests. That's actually an alarming idea. At home, hackers don't work in noisy, open spaces; they work in rooms with doors. You're always going to have novel consequences.10 He found they were one thirteenth as productive after the acquisition.

It's there to some degree on investors. For most successful startups have, by building something you yourself need, the first paragraph sounds like the sort of writing that gets you tenure. Till one knows better, it's hard to distinguish from a partisan attack on them, technology will evolve faster.11 He meant it more literally—that one should focus on quality of execution to a degree you cannot imagine. It discovered, of course. All the people majoring in other things would just end up with a bunch of domain knowledge.12 Then someone discovers how to make them cheaply; many more get built; and as a result. It's easy to see how little launches matter.

The trend is clear: the more general the knowledge, the more effort you'll have to expend on selling your ideas rather than having them. I said in the second version, why didn't I write it that way?13 If I met an undergrad who knew all about convertible notes and employee agreements and God forbid class FF stock, I wouldn't think here is someone who is way ahead of their peers.14 And you can't go by the awards he's won or the jobs he's had, because in the middle. And none of us know, except about people we've actually worked with. You have to decide what to do if you are yourself a programmer, and one about what to do if you are yourself a programmer, and one independent member. Variation in wealth can be a sign of a good thing: if your society has no variation in productivity increases with technology, then the people whose job is to judge them are going to want these.15 You also can't tell from his portfolio.16

Notes

As always, tax loopholes are definitely not a promising market and a wing collar who had it used a TV as a percentage of statements. Then you'll either get the money.

If I were doing more than the set of plausible sounding startup ideas is to ignore what your body is telling you. I.

It was also obvious to us. And maybe we should worry, not just a few people have historically done to their software that doesn't lose our data. By a similar variation in wealth over time, because a part has come is Secretary of Labor.

And since there are not the primary cause. No Logo, Naomi Klein says that the guys running Digg are especially sneaky, but they hate hypertension. What I should add that none who read a new version of Explorer. Even college textbooks are bad news; it is.

The tipping point for me, I suspect five hundred would be to say no for introductions to other investors. So starting as a definition of property is driven mostly by hackers. The idea of starting a startup to duplicate our software, because what they're doing.

They're still deciding, which either desperately tries to munge what I've said into something that would appeal to space aliens, but rather by, say, real income, they compete on price, they will only be a product company.

In Boston the best hackers want to sell your company into one? Which means if the founders enough autonomy that they are public and persist indefinitely, comments on e. Investors are often compared to what modernist architects meant.

Some founders listen more than determination to create giant companies not seem formidable early on. This is a well-known byproduct of oligopoly.

But when you lose that protection, e. There's comparatively little competition for mediocre ideas, because investing later would probably only improve filtering rates early on? Beware too of the word wisdom in this respect. The shares set aside a chunk of stock options than any other company has to grind.

If they're dealing with money and disputes. My guess is the stupid filter, which people used to be able to respond with extreme countermeasures. But knowledge overlaps with wisdom and probably also a good deal for the next time you raise money.

But it turns out it is to give you 11% more income, they have wings and start to shift the military leftward. Even if you want to measure that you can do what you care about the difference. Don't ask investors who turned them down.

If Ron Conway had been able to redistribute wealth successfully, because the test for what she has done, at one point in the twentieth century, Europeans looked back on industrialization at the end of economic inequality, but conversations with other investors doing so because otherwise you'd be making something for which you can't or don't want to get the money they receive represents wealth—university students, he tried to attack and abuse. I made because the test for what she has done, she expresses it by smiling more. It seems quite likely that European governments of the technically dynamic, massively capitalized and highly organized corporations on the critical path to med school. Then it's up to them more professional.

Which is precisely my point. This suggests a good deal for you. Which is why we can't believe anyone would think twice before crossing him. This of course, that suits took over during a critical period.

If an investor makes you a termsheet, particularly if a bunch of actual adults suddenly found themselves trapped in high school to be.

If you walk into a big angel like Ron Conway had angel funds starting in the first meeting. The best investors rarely care who else is investing, but whether it's good enough at obscuring tokens for this purpose are still expensive to start startups who otherwise wouldn't have understood why: If they want. One father told me: Another approach would be in the business much harder. And that is worth more, are better college candidates.

Good and bad measurers. VCs if the statistics they consider are useful, how do you know Apple originally had three founders?

Thanks to Larry Finkelstein, Geoff Ralston, Trevor Blackwell, Robert Morris, Eric Raymond, and Jessica Livingston for the lulz.

[dailylifewithperz-blog]

My Past Family

Let's take a long journey back in time in my IMVU family days.

A few years back (2014 i think) I rejoined a social game named IMVU. I was really into the whole having tons of clothing and items because as you all know I’m really into pictures thus i need new thing to wear to not have every picture look the same. ANYWAY, a friend had told me that a good way to get new stuff is by getting adopted as a child. I informed myself and after that I began my parent hunt.

A few weeks pass and I find a guy whom I will name Jax. Jax had recently joined IMVU;  I spoke with him for a few days and eventually I told him I was looking for parents for the whole "Roleplaying" thing (little did he know that I only wanted to get stuff from him. No he wasn't a sugar daddy ffs Lmao). He told me he had a “daughter” (roleplaying daughter) and that she wanted a younger brother. We settled down and we got to know each other a lot more. We all eventually became friends but of course with the respect of him being my father. I learned a lot about him and his real life life. My sister whom I’ll name Helena didn’t talk about her real life because she liked to keep her real life outside of IMVU.  A few days later he met a really sweet and friendly girl whom I'll name Ally. Me and Ally instantly became friends. Later that same day we met, Jax asked us if we wanted a mother and I immediately agreed, Helena though wasn’t too happy but she was okay with it. In my head I was lowkey like the more family members the more gifts, am i right? He then asked us if it'd be okay if Ally became our mother. I sure as hell said yes (forgetting about my plan). Helena was like sure whatever. A few months pass of us being a family and I decide that I should drop the whole plan.

Now's where the good shit starts.

Our family was really successful until Ally introduced us to her Gay parents (Which were totally fucking great!). Jax though was a bit put off by them because of their sexuality and he made a lot of uncomforting questions. The uncomfort was literally there. So awkward. It was clear he had his thoughts about homosexuality though it didn't seem like he was "against" it though. Later that day after meeting my granddads we went back home where he then continued to talk about Ally's dads. It was clear that she felt annoyed by his questions, which I understand because I felt really uncomfortable! A few days pass and I ask one of my best friends to roleplay as my girlfriend because I was kind of scared (It's so stupid lol). She was fine with it. She met my parents and in fact went to our house! 

Later that same day while being in our house, Ally and Helena went offline. Me, My fake girlfriend and Jax were in the house alone. Jax though was totally fine with that but little did I know that he just wanted us to "become one" while he was there. LITTLE DID HE KNOW THAT IT WAS NOT GONNA HAPPEN AND THAT WE WERE NOT EVEN TOGETHER. How do I know that he was expecting us to do that? Because he said that we could do whatever we wanted and act as if he wasn't there. THEM HINTS WERE REAL but sadly I was a bit more innocent back then. A few days pass and me and my friend "break up". 

One of my favorite youtubers dies and I don't go online for a few days. When I go back online, My mother then tells me what would happen if her and my dad  broke up. I told her they were good together. Little did I know that he was most of the time we werent around asking her to Skype because he wanted to... do things on camera with her. They were both legally adults. She just didn't want that LMAO!

I told her nothing would change. They break up.

I go offline for a few days after the breakup and when I come back Helena invites me to a private chat and she tells me that she and jax, our supposed FATHER had sex with her because, his word: She was adopted. No blood so it's okay. She ofc went along with it.  BITCH I WAS SHOOK. 

The next day after she tells me that, Jax tells me that he wants to adopt a new child. He adopted a furry daughter (who btw had no idea what she was doing lmfao). She was literally part of the family for like 2 days. After that she disappeared. 

My sister tells me that our family was literally falling apart but that we'd still remain friends and still act like siblings. We were tight!We both go offline for months. When I come back, My dad had changed his IMVU sex and name. His status to single and sexuality to straight. We spoke and he told me to not tell anyone which i didn't. I was literally the only one who knew. Jax bought something called AP which stands for Access Pass. It allows the game to be 18+ for reals. No censor or anything. He was pretty excited about it and he told me why he go it. He wanted cyber sex. I was like shit. I'm not judging but isn't porn a lot better? He said that with porn he feels as if it's all fake and cyber sex feels more real. I was like whatever. Now, he showed me what he bought. HE WAS KINKY.

Days later he decided to "marry" a dragon-like person who i honestly have no idea if they were male or female. I actually don't remember calling them neither mother or father. That person literally was the cleverest bitch ever. THEY LEGIT DID THE WHOLE "Family for gift" THING AND SHE SUCCEEDED! But here's the twist, They spoke on Skype and She gave him what he wanted for certain amount of credits (the in game currency). 

Jax tells me a few months later that they broke up because apparently she cheated on him and that she had multiple families in game.

After that our family literally disappeared because I went offline due to school, Ally had college, Helena had work and got pregnant and Jax well, i've no idea. All I know is that today when I was cleaning out my friends list, his profile showed "Single, Bisexual and the caption: Hmu for some fun"

Welcome to my IMVU family experience. Would I ever join another family? NOPE. I'd rather be an orphan and if i did i'd have to personally know the person and it'd actually be for the roleplaying or simply to show off. Nothing more nothing less.

On the brightside of things, I made a bunch of friends on my "mother's" side.

[justjams2003]

Fast Pace- 15

I'd just like to thank @multi-universe21 for the Spanish Translations for these last two chapters.

The last one guys! This is the very last chapter! I can't believe it. I've been putting off posting this all day, because I'm so sad that this is over now :( Keep in mind, my request are always open. And I'll miss all you pookies so much 🫶. Follow if you'll miss me too, or don't. 🫶

Summary: You're a hard-working Chef in Paris and after a freak accident run-in with Carlos Sainz, your life makes a 180. Let's just say with a certain agreement, you get your bills paid and in return stand in as Carlos' girlfriend for the press. But will you be able to handle the pressure and ensure the lines don't blur?

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Carlos Sainz x Sugar Baby!Reader

Warnings: I've aged up Carlos, he is 33 in this fic. Smut (Actually this time!!), sexual themes, age difference, manipulation, control, slight obsession, the word 'daddy', nudity, i guess Instagram posts?? Angst! Lots of it! Tell me if I missed any

Taglist: @httpjeonlicious, @f1lov3r, @messersandmesses, @hollie911, @oriconde08 @thehufflepuffavenger1 @fanboyluvr @thatgirlmj @whyamireadingthis @oriconde08 @depressedriches @roseseraj @skepvids @sain55wifey @distinguishedvoidlady @amatswimming @sachaa-ff @lightdragonrayne @lazybot @formula1mount @fangirl-dot-com @saintslewis @carlossainzwho @lordpercevalcharles @topguncultleader @kitixie @serp3ns0rtiae @hangmandruigandmav @therealone4r @keii134 @dark-night-sky-99 @jax-the-oregonian @hachrinnen @formulaal tjdjindahouse

Word count: 4.3k

Masterlist

Part 14

Y/N'susername 12 January 2024

Liked by CarlosSainz55, Charles_Leclerc, Alexandrasaintmleux, francisca.cgomes, LandoNorris and 1,647,903 more Some might say it’s too fast, but you and I have always loved a fast pace. Tagged: CarlosSainz55 Comments: CarlosSainz55: So obsessed with you. I love you so much. <3

Charles_Leclerc: So happy for you two <3

Alexandrasaintleux: You’re gonna be a Sainz before the end of the year!

LandoNorris: Well done, @CarlosSainz55, you found someone who will put up with you like I do…where’s my proposal? CarlosSainz55: You’re not as pretty as her. 🤷 LandoNorris: A dagger to the heart😭

Comments have been limited.

Y/N'susername 6 March 2024

Liked by CarlosSainz55, Alexandrasaintmleux, francisca.cgomes and 198, 379 more Working hard or hardly working? The first option. Tagged: Francisa.cgomes and CarlosSainz55 Comments:

CarlosSainz55: Missing you so much already, mi futura esposa. Y/N’susername: I haven’t been this far away from you since we met😭

Francisca.cgomes: Already having so much fun with you!

Francisca.cgnomes: @CarlosSainz55, you’re all she talks about ✋ Y/N’susername: Nooo, don’t expose me😭

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The cold air hits your face, you don’t remember Paris being this cold. It doesn’t help that the dress you’re being fitted with doesn’t do much for heat. You pull the coat you’d been given closer to your body. It’s luckily big, Dior doesn’t want any paparazzi seeing their opening outfit.

You’re exhausted, it’s two days before fashion week starts. You’ve been pulled into a million places, auditions, fittings, rehearsals and everything in between. The cold air makes you crave a cigarette so badly. Not only that, you miss Carlos more than anything. You haven’t seen him in a month. You call almost every night, but it still isn’t enough. When he’s busy, you’ll play the Ferrari video again. He isn’t himself, but it is close enough.

You can hear someone calling your name but assume that it’s the same people who have been calling you all day. That is of course, until someone grabs you from behind and turns you around to face them.

Your fight or flight kick in before you can even see who it is. Your arms flail and your legs kick in all different directions. Not really caring for the pins stabbing into your side. Where are Otis and Brutis when you truly need them?

“Y/N, Y/N! C'est moi! C’est moi!” You know that voice, you know that accent, you know these strong arms. Your kicking stops, but your screaming doesn’t. “Bérenger! Let go of me, you fucker!” He does, he drops you right as you are. You don’t even turn to him, your bare feet hit the pavement with some speed. Before you can even open the door again, he stops you once more.

He calls you again, but this time you turn to him with fury. “Don’t you remember? I’m a whore, and a slut who sleeps with pedos?” You can see your brother bite the inside of his cheek. “What? You were so opinionated when Jean was disowning me! Now, you have nothing to say?” You scoff at his utter silence, but it doesn’t last long.

“Nothing I say will make you believe me, so I’ll just show you.” He pulls out a phone and shows you an image. “What the fuck is this?” He sighs at you refusing to even look at his phone. “It’s a picture of Carlos at the restaurant where you worked, three months before you actually met.” You trusted him, just as you had trusted Jas and Ilsa and told him everything.

Now you regret it more than anything. You look, and you recognised those booth seats and plates, you’d seen them so many times before. You shrug, “May be, but it could be chalked up to coincidence. What are you even trying to say?” His jaw locks and then he swipes to the right, then again and again and then he hands you the phone telling you to do the same.

“Bérenger, what am I looking at?” He still looks on edge but continues to explain. “I hired a private detective. He found this on Carlos’ cloud.” Now you laugh at him, “That’s not possible. I’ve looked at Carlos’ pictures before, and I’ve never seen these photos before.” You go to leave, thinking he’s just lying to hurt you again.

“His phone, yes! But not his laptop, not his PC, and not his cloud.” It’s true, yes. “What would these photos even mean?” You cross your arms, finally allowing him to speak. “He’s been stalking you, can’t you see? Months before you even met and he has hundreds of photos of you!”

This catches your attention. You sigh, and shake your head, trying to make sense of what he is saying. “Please, Y/N, you’re my sister. All our siblings missed you so much over Christmas. The girls were so excited to see you got engaged and couldn’t believe their ears when I told them what happened.”

This hits you in the stomach. It has to be wrong. He has to be lying. Or else your whole world will truly become crumbling down. More than ever before. “Is, is that all?” He shakes his head repeatedly.

“No, no there’s so much more.” How could there ever possibly be more than stalking? “I have to go, but I have just one day off tomorrow before a hectic week. Here’s my hotel room, we’ll talk.”

Your heart is racing in your ears, you don’t really listen to the people talking to you. You just sit in the makeup chair, trying to keep your stomach from twisting and turning. It has to all be lies, right? He must just be trying to get in your head, to hurt you even more. But, if you truly believed that it's all lies, why would have you agreed to meeting him?

The ringing hits your ear, not panic ringing but your phone. Your hands shake seeing Carlos’ name on your phone. For a fact, you know that if you don’t answer, he is going to worry all day. You don’t want that, he’s your fiancé! But, does he really love you or are his jokes more the truth. Each time he tells you he’s obsessed with you, flies through your mind.

Was he being honest with you? Waiting for you to realise? You turn airplane mode on and the phone goes quiet.

Then there’s also the option of your brother lying. After all, he didn’t defend you that night. He didn’t leave with you when your parents kicked you out. In fact, he made it even worse. He called you and Carlos horrible names and haven’t tried to reach out.

Now you wish Kika was with you on this Dior shoot to help you think all this out.

“You have 10 minutes because 10 minutes is all you gave me.” You both sit down on the balcony of your hotel room. You show him the 10-minute timer on your phone and as soon as the clock starts ticking he begins talking. “I don’t need ten minutes. I can tell you all you need to know now.” You don’t say a word, allowing him to continue.

“Carlos paid us a million euros to disown you.”

He doesn’t even say another word, clearly he can see you spinning. “What?” He nods and then pulls out his phone. Your eyes don’t deceive you. Nothing is truer than the image of your parents sitting on the porch of their new mansion. Bright smiles are on their faces. He swipes to the next photo and you see your siblings being spoiled with lavish gifts.

Now you’re glad that you’re sitting down. Your heart rate has skyrocketed, and you can’t help but look around at everything you now own. The million-euro ring on your finger feels much heavier than ever before. Suddenly you feel exhausted, and a throbbing headache makes itself known. Your throat is dry and your eyes burn with tears.

“No, no, this…this is edited. It must be.” The sun feels too bright and your chest feels too tight. What else is left for you, if you don’t have Carlos? Yes, you have Kika and Alex, but if you lose Carlos you lose them too.

You’ve kicked your friends out of your life. You don’t have your family anymore. He’s it. Carlos is the only real stable person in your life. His family, his friends, they’re the only people you have.

Your brother panics, he pours you a glass of water and you swallow it with one big gulp. What’s even worse than having no one but him, is you realise that that is what he wanted. He wanted himself to be the only one in your life. For you to be isolated and depend on him and only him. He’s used his influence and his money to remove your friends, your family, your job and your person.

“Ilsa? Jasmine? Did he…?” Bérenger nods before you can even finish your sentence. It confirms your thoughts. “There’s more…” he pours you another glass of water. “He planned your meeting. We searched and we couldn’t find a single article of any mob or crazy fans that whole day. We looked in further… and found out that he paid your old boss to make sure you ended up in that ally on that day.”

What?

He's obsessed. He's crazy.

Then the contract enters your mind. NDA. Non-disclosure agreement. Is this why he had you sign it? You thought it was just a safety concern for Ferrari. To make sure they don’t lose any sponsors or something like that. Now you see it’s to protect himself. All just to make sure you don’t say a word. Because if this gets out, he’ll lose everything. He’d be in an even worse position than you.

“Bérenger. You need to leave.” His brows furrow together. “I have photos of that too if you don’t believe me. Recordings, audios, you name it.” You shake your head.

“No, no. I signed an NDA. You aren’t allowed to know any of this. He could sue you into oblivion. He could…” Memories of him saying he’d have people fired. The look in his eye when he would tell you what would happen.

He doesn’t move. “No, no. You’re my sister. He can sue me all he wants.” You shake your head, over and over. Standing up on your wobbly legs. Trying to push his huge body from the seat. “He’ll do worse. Much worse, I’m sure.” His eyes go big at your reaction. “Leave. Now.” He sighs and then takes your phone and puts in his new number.

“If you need me. For anything. Message me, call me.” You can only nod. “Be careful. Don’t let the guards see you looking anything but normal.” Then you realise, they’d likely already told Carlos that Bérenger has visited. “Turn your location off. Don’t use the same road twice. His reach is far. Be careful.”

Your mind is reeling. Should you call him or wait for him to call you? If he does call you, should you lie? Pretend you don’t know anything and then buy a plane ticket with your own money? How would you even get to the airport without the guards? If you leave now, you’ll lose all your modelling jobs. Everything you’d been working hard for. Your dreams, you’d be throwing your dreams down the drain.

The phone rings, and you see his name on your screen. Your hands shake as you answer the phone. You don’t hear anything and can’t even speak. “¿Mi amor?” He asks through the phone, sounding just so innocent. ‘My love’. Are you really his love or just something he owns? Like some watch he’s crazy about.

You go to speak, but your throat fails you. Sobs echo through the hotel room. “Y/N? Are you okay? What’s going on? Talk to me.” Your tears become more, he was so perfect. Too perfect. “What did you do?” Your voice is just above a whisper but you can hear him shift on the other end.

He chuckles, thinking it’s some sort of prank. “What are you talking about? Don’t mess with me now. You didn’t call me back yesterday. I was worried sick.” Each of his words are like knifes into your heart. “Bérenger told me everything.” It’s such a struggle to even speak. “And you believe him?” He doesn’t even ask what Bérenger told you. It just confirms it more to you.

“He showed me the photos, Carlos.” You can hear him curse in Spanish on the other side. “Carlos, I loved you, how could you do this to me?” You pull your legs close to your chest, some sort of protection. It doesn’t stop your heart pounding. “And you still do. You still love me, don’t you mi amor? You told me, I’d never get in trouble with you.”

You scoff at his pleas. “That’s before I found out that you paid my parents to disown me!” He scoffs the same as you had. “You say that as if you loved them because they didn’t love you. Think about it, mi amor, they took the money, didn’t they? If they loved you they would’ve kicked me out there and then. But they didn’t.”

He’s right. Who would be so evil as to give up their own daughter, just like that? Clearly, you never really meant much to them. Why are you caring now? He must sense you coming to this realisation.

“I did it for you. I hate the way they made you feel. Weren’t they so cruel? They would hurt you over and over and I couldn’t stand it. Shouldn’t my love be a good enough reason?”

Another cry courses through you. It’s quiet for quite a bit, just the sound of your crying. You can hear the shuffling before he speaks. “We’re hoping on the plane now. Don’t go anywhere.” This just makes your cries worse. “No, no, please. You can keep everything. The car, the jewels, the clothes anything. Just, please don’t hurt me. Or my family.”

You can hear his footsteps stop. “No, no, mi amor. You know I’d never hurt you. Don’t you?” You don’t say anything, you can’t. You’re shaking and your cries become too much. “Don’t do anything rash. We’ll be there tomorrow.” You throw the phone across the bed, wanting to be as far away as possible from it.

Without even thinking, you throw open the door and face your bodyguards. They don’t even turn to you. “Who are you two loyal to? Me or Carlos?” They don’t say anything, like always. You pluck on Otis’ sleeve, he’s shorter and you’ve him smile…once but once is enough for you to reach out. “If Carlos comes for me, trying to take me, who will you go with?”

You can see him gulp and his face soften. “Carlos will not hurt you.” His words are soft and it’s the first time either of them has spoken of you. You scoff and jump on the balls of your feet.

“Answer the question.” You can see he bites his tongue. “We are paid to protect you, from everyone. But also to report everything you do to Carlos.” It’s Brutis who speaks, you both seem shocked.

“Thank you,” it’s all you say before closing the door. You grab your phone again and call your assistant slash publicist slash just about everything. “Y/N, hello beautiful, what can I do for you?” Her voice is always chirpy but it quickly changes when you ask her what would happen if you didn’t show up to any of your shows.

She chuckles, clearly incredibly nervous by your sudden change of heart. “You’d be blacklisted. Not showing up to Dior? As the opener? Yeah, word will spread and you won’t get another runway job again. Why do you ask?” You can hear her panic about her job. “I signed an NDA.” It’s all you say, you don’t want anyone else’s life being ruined.

You sit back down on the bed. Now you need to think clearly. Why exactly is your brother telling you all this? It can’t be to protect you, because if that was the case then he would’ve done exactly as Carlos said. If he really did care about you, he would’ve tried harder.

Bérenger would’ve told him no, beat Carlos’ ass. But he didn’t, so clearly he doesn’t care too much about you.

So why did he bring this to you? Why else but to hurt you and your relationship. Force a break between you and Carlos. To make sure to ruin your connection with him, so that you’d lose the love of your life. Not only that, but you lose everything. Your new family, the Sainz, your new friends, Alex and Kika, and your career.

You’ve dreamed of tomorrow all your life. To walk down that runway, with all those cameras flashing and people screaming. Your wildest dream was walking for someone like Dior. As a little child, you’d wear your mother’s clothes and put on a little runway show for your siblings. It was one of the few times they’d show some sort of interest.

When you were cooking, you’d always imagine being on a show. Explaining in great detail what you're making and people would love it. People would love you. That’s what you’ve always wanted if you really think about it. To be adored and obsessed over. And that’s what Carlos has given you. He’s given you a world where this is a reality.

You peek behind the curtain and look at all those seats. Then you look at the window outside and see the incredibly long line of people. Much more than the seats put out. An hour. One whole hour before you walk the runway for the very first time. Now just any runway, the Christian Dior runway.

Yes, you spend weeks practising your model walk. You’ve rehearsed this runway three times now. Your outfit is perfect, your hair is perfect, all you’re waiting for now is makeup, jewellery and touch ups. But you can feel your heart in your ears. Yes, you’ve wanted this all your life but now that it’s here, you feel like throwing up.

All those people, watching your every move. They’ll know if you’re breathing too heavily, if you're walking too fast, you’re certain that they can smell fear. And boy are you scared. What if you slip and fall. Then again, Naomi Campbell fell on the runway and that became an iconic moment. But are you as iconic as her? Could you ever live up to her?

What if you sneeze and the whole dress bursts open? What if the dress just falls apart as you walk, leaving you naked for everyone to see? You’d be the laughingstock of the model world. Never again seen on the runway, doomed to forever be remembered as the girl whose dress fell apart. Or the girl who was far too unprofessional for the runway.

“Are you okay?” The makeup artist’s voice snaps you out of your hyperventilation. Your thoughts are torn between two very important things. But really they come together for one big thing, your future. And one question affects both things. Do you still want to be with Carlos? “Yeah, sorry. My mind is just all over the place. Very nervous, my first show.” You shrug and she smiles.

“What usually helps when you're nervous?” His name instantly pops into your mind. “My fiancé. He’s always been my rock.” There hasn’t been a moment since you met him that he hasn’t been there for you. If that’s due to an obsession or love, does it really matter? What really is the difference? What if love isn’t enough for you?

Your parents claimed to love you. Your friends claimed to love you. You claimed to love your job. But all three of those are lost at just the mention of money. Not Carlos. To him, money wasn’t even an object. He didn’t care if you got your new shoes dirty or never wore something his money bought. Because to him, there’s always more money but not more of you.

“Speaking of…” the make-up artist’s eyes glance to one of the side entrances. His hair is always something you notice first. You hope he never loses it, even if he goes completely grey. Then it’s the crinkle in his brow, he’s always so worried. Then the way his eyes scan the room, always looking for you. It’s not that he always wants you by his side, it’s just that he wants you safe.

He’s by your side before you can even blink. His hands fit into yours, and like always you reach for the other. “Mi amor, please let me explain.” He’s down on his knees, opening himself up to vulnerability. So many people here could take a photo at any time. But he doesn’t care, he just thinks about you and keeping you.

“Carlos, I can’t do this.” His eyes go big and he shakes his head. “No, no please mi amor. I love you, I can’t lose you. I know some actions to protect you might have been a bit… unorthodox but it all came out of love.” You chuckle and kiss his forehead. “I know and you’re right. Good riddance, I mean. If they gave me up that easily, for that little amount, then I’m better off without them.”

His face lights up and he gives you his charming smile. “You mean it?” You nod and smile, “What I can’t do, is this show. Ask Ava here, I’ve been hyperventilating this whole time. I’m sure she’s so annoyed with me.” The girl gives an uncomfortable chuckle, likely more worried about her job than yours.

He stands up and rubs your shoulders. “Don’t worry, handle it like you do the paparazzi. Because you handle it better than any celebrity that I’ve ever seen.” He holds back your hair, keeping it out of Ava’s way, still gentle enough not to ruin the style. You laugh, it feels like so long ago now, your first real encounter with fans.

“Will you be watching?” “Of course, imagine it’s just me in the audience. Just you and me.”

“Carlos Sainz Vázquez de Castro Junior, ¡ven aquí ahora mismo o llamaré a tu padre! Quieres decepcionar a papá? Porque si lo haces no podrás venir más a las carreras.” I can’t help but laugh, hearing my wife scold my eldest.

He’s likely run off again trying to find me or Lando or even Charles. It’s nice to hear her speak Spanish. As soon as we found out she was pregnant, she began learning immediately. And she picked it up quick.

“I am shaking in my boots.” Her eyes shine seeing me. Clearly, she’s tired, but still, she is glowing. “Papa!” The little man runs up to me at full speed. His Ferrari shirt is still too big for him at four. But he does insist he’s a big many and doesn’t need the baby sizes. “Are you being naughty? Didn’t I say we must always listen to Mama?”

His wide smile falls, “I’m sorry, papa,” I hate seeing him upset like this. But he does need to know that what she says goes. “You know what they say, happy wife happy life.” Charles comes up behind me, tickling Junior making him cry out in giggles. He then greets Y/N and picks up one of the twins. Also tickling his feet as the other is as always perched on my wife’s hip.

“Aw man, this is why I love the Spanish GP so much,” Charles comments and I can hear my beautiful wife laugh again. “What? To admire my family?” He nods with a smile, “You know it.” I can’t help but shake my head. “Ai, no, get your own.” Charles just rolls his eyes at my shenanigans before he is called away.

I place Junior down, telling him to sit tight. I then bend down and rub her swollen belly. “How are you, mi amor? How is our girl treating you?” She sighs and her fingers find my hair.

“She’s much nicer to me than these two were. But you know how it is when we get to the eight month mark.” I coo and kiss her head. I love seeing her swollen like this. Hands full with our children, in the role I have chosen for her.

“What’s on your mind?” She’s so warm and I just can’t keep anything from her. When she wasn’t pregnant it was hard to say no. Now, it’s basically impossible. “I think I should retire…” Her brows furrow and her bottom lip pops out. It’s no wonder where Junior gets it from. “I have a championship behind my back and this year is looking like another…”

She shrugs and then nods, “You’re his hero, you know? I just don’t want to break that bubble for him.” I sigh, placing my head on her round stomach. The baby kicks my chin and I can’t help but chuckle. “I’m 38, mi amor, my contract ends this year. I don’t want to miss more of my kids growing up.” She holds my face in her hands, this is what I imagine heaven would be like.

“I’ll support you all the way.” I nod and give her a kiss. She pulls Elija, the youngest closer to her. They’re just over a year old. “Look who’s the main breadwinner now.” Elija just babbles on as a reply. This is more than enough for me.

She’s mine, all mine. Three beautiful kids with one on the way. A championship to my name. There is nothing else I could want.

The End.

I just want to quickly add, that this story was written before the Epstein list came out. If the mention of Noami Campbell is too much, please, please tell me so, so that I can delete the mention of her immediately. But like,,,, I'm just a girl and idk what to do 🤷 please tell me what to do😭 Okay, love you bye <3

[justanoutlawfic]

All I Want For Christmas: Chapt. 2

Day 2 of @charmingfamilychristmas. :) Daddy Charming bonding, with a Christmas tree to boot. Also, some angst, because hey...it’s me!

Also on AO3/FF

David rushed into the waiting room, finding Mary Margaret slumped down in a chair, head in her hands. He sat down beside her, placing a hand on her back.

 “Hey,” he said, softly. “Where is she?”

“They rushed her off into surgery. I didn’t even get to see her before.”

“Oh Mare…”

“I just feel so awful. I didn’t even notice anything was off with her today.”

“She’s a kid, sometimes they hide what’s going on pretty well.”

“But I..I know Emma. We’re so close and now…” She sighed. “I just feel like I should’ve known.”

“What’s important is that you got her here in time.”

Mary Margaret sighed. “Thanks for coming. I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

He shook his head. “No, I was just leaving work. I wanted to be here for you.”

She softly smiled. “I appreciate it.”

There was some silence for a bit. “So…is Emma the one that you’ve been close to?”

“Yeah.”

“The one Zelena won’t let you adopt?”

“The very one.”

 David suddenly realized why Mary Margaret felt so guilty. She loved all the kids in her care and wanted the best for them. It wasn’t as if she had a favorite, but she always talked about how close she felt to Emma. They didn’t talk much about kids. Mary Margaret was sensitive to the fact that he lost his own daughter and didn’t want to hurt him further. At the same time, he knew that Mary Margaret was infertile, she would never be able to get pregnant. Emma was her chance to have a family, it just sucked that Zelena say her paycheck as a means to prevent it.

 “She had an interview yesterday,” Mary Margaret continued before he could say anything else. “With another family, the Spencers.”

David made a face. “I didn’t think they’d want children. Blue isn’t exactly the maternal type. And Albert…”

“I don’t think they really want a child either. Something tells me Albert needs an heir of some kind, it’s more likely for show than anything.” A chill ran down her spine. “It sickens me, how can someone only want a child for that purpose? How can Zelena think that they’re a good fit and I’m not, simply because I’m not a millionaire?”

“You know she doesn’t care about anyone else but herself.” David pursed his lips together. “Just like Albert and Blue, everything is all about appearances and control for her.”

“I just want to know what I did to make her hate me so much.”

 David nodded. It seemed to be one of the biggest mysteries. It was clear that Zelena wasn’t his biggest fan either, however Mary Margaret was her biggest target. What could’ve caused so much hate to go into her heart?

 10 Years Ago

Regina stood in front of Snow and David, protecting them from her sister. She knew that they had their respective weapons, but nothing was more powerful than magic. Especially when it was up against such a powerful witch.

 “You need to get out of here, Zelena,” she said, coolly.

“Not without you.” Zelena stepped closer. “We’re a family.”

“You don’t know how to be one, you know this all too well.”

“Love is weakness.”

“No, it’s not. Snow has taught me that much.”

Zelena laughed, rolling her eyes. “She’s hardly family. She changed you.”

“For the better.” Regina softly smiled. “She made me realize what a family should be. Zelena, it’s not too late for you. You can become a part of all of this. But that can’t happen, not with your current plans.”

Her lip planted in a firm line. “It’ll be a cool day in the Underworld before I agree to be family with those two idiots.” She pointed to the pair behind them.

“I can’t…I can’t risk relapsing. I want to be good, I don’t want to be evil anymore. Just let me help you, Zelena. Please.”

Zelena shook her head. “I don’t want your help.” She looked behind at Snow White. “This is all your fault, you took my sister away from me.”

Snow frowned. “Zelena, I didn’t…”

“You couldn’t just leave well enough alone? You got your happy ending, why did you have to bring her down with you?” She sneered. “You’re going to pay for this, Snow White. You stole my sister from me. When I’m through with you, you won’t have any family left.”

Regina felt tears gathering in her eyes, she hadn’t wanted to do what she was about to, but she had no other choice. “I’m sorry, Zelena. I can’t let you hurt my family.”

 Raising her hands, she was able to zap Zelena back to Oz. It wouldn’t be easy for her to come back. Once and for all, the Wicked Witch was banished from Misthaven.

 Present Day

An hour later, the doctor came out to greet Mary Margaret and David. The two scrambled up and over to him.

 “Emma got through surgery just fine,” Whale explained. “She’s just resting now, if you want to see her.”

“Will she have to stay here long?” Mary Margaret asked.

“Just a couple of days, but she’ll have to be on bed rest for a couple of weeks.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, she’s going to love that.”

Whale chuckled. “She’s recovering in Room 5, feel free to go see her.”

Mary Margaret looked up at David. “Want to come with me?”

He hesitated for a moment and then smiled a bit. “Sure.”

 David had never been a big fan of hospitals. The last time he could remember being in one was the day his daughter was born. Everything had been fine at first, Kathryn was doing just fine. Then suddenly, she wasn’t. She started hemorrhaging and was rushed out of the room. The rest of that was a total blur, the next thing he knew, he was without a wife or child.

 Entering the room, he found a little girl laying in the bed. She had long blonde curls and delicate features. He realized that she was probably around the same age Leia would’ve been, 10 years old. A part of him wanted to turn around and run, but another felt drawn to her. Walking closer to the bed, he pushed some hair out of her face. She was so tiny, yet so beautiful.

 How was she still an orphan? Mary Margaret once mentioned that she had been found abandoned in the woods. He could see someone being desperate enough to do that, but how had no one amazing adopted her yet? Why was Zelena insistent on torturing her by trying to place her with the Spencers?

 Not knowing what else to do, his paternal instincts took over. There wasn’t much he remembered about his past, but one of the few things was a lullaby his mother had sang to him as a boy. He hoped that it would bring Emma some comfort, even if she wasn’t exactly a small child.

 Blacks and bays, dapples and greys, Go to sleepy you little baby,

Way down yonder, down in the meadow, There's a poor wee little lamby. The bees and the butterflies pickin' at its eyes

 Hush-a-bye, don't you cry, Go to sleepy little baby. Hush-a-bye, don't you cry, Go to sleepy little baby, When you wake, you shall have, All the pretty little horses.

Emma’s eyes were shut and yet she could see a vision in front of her. She was a lot smaller in it, curled up on her father’s lap. She was sniffling and feeling miserable and he was doing all he could to console her. Suddenly, he started singing her favorite lullaby, the one about the tiny lamb and horses, the one that always calmed her. She settled in his arms and felt as if she was in the safest place in the world.

 The vision faded just as quickly as it had arrived and while her world was back to darkness, she could still hear the lullaby being sung, in that familiar voice.

 “Daddy?” She mumbled.

David faltered, his singing coming to a halt. “Oh, um, no.” Emma’s eyes flickered open. “My name’s David, I’m a friend of Mary Margaret’s.”

“Oh.” Emma blinked, looking around the room, spotting Mary Margaret on the other side. “Mary Margaret.”

“Hey sweet girl.” She pushed her hair out of her face. “How are you feeling?”

“My stomach really hurts.”

“I know. They took out your appendix.”

“Do I need that? Is it like a lung?”

She laughed, shaking her head. “No, honey. No one needs their appendix.”

“Then why are we born with one? Seems stupid.”

 David chuckled, she was a straight shooter, that much was sure. Mary Margaret was clearly trying to come up with an excuse, when Emma interrupted her.

 “Is it snowing?” She asked, trying to peer out the window, but it hurt her stomach. She let out a hiss of pain and David rubbed her shoulder out of instinct. Mary Margaret looked out the window.

“Yes, it is.”

Emma frowned. “Grace said we’d play snow baseball when that happened.”

“Snow baseball?” David asked.

“It’s a fun game we made up last year.”

“Oh, well, when you’re feeling better, I’m sure you two will play.”

“When can I go home?”

“In a couple of days,” Mary Margaret said. “But then you’ll be on bed rest for a couple of weeks.”

“What? No!”

“Emma…”

“I am not going to be laying in bed for weeks. That’s not any fun.”

“I know it doesn’t seem that way, but we can come up with stuff to do…”

Emma folded her arms over her chest, pouting. Mary Margaret sighed, tipping her head back. She knew that was going to be a tough battle. David couldn’t help but chuckle at the two, it was almost as if they were really mother and daughter.

 “Hey, Em, I have an idea, are you hungry?” He asked.

Emma shrugged. “I didn’t get to eat dinner.”

“How about I go down to the cafeteria and get us all something to eat.”

Mary Margaret frowned. “David, you don’t have to…”

“It’s no trouble. Send me Jefferson and Robin’s numbers, I’ll let them know how Emma’s doing. You like your coffee with milk, no sugar, right?”

Her frown slowly turned to a smile. “Yeah.”

 Heading out of the room, he went down to the cafeteria and waited for the text. Once he got them, he let Robin and Jefferson know. Both men were grateful and told him to assure Mary Margaret they had everything under control. As he was trying to pick out an ice cream flavor for Emma, his phone started ringing. He saw Regina’s face fill the screen and frowned. Why would she be calling? Did she and Mallory not have a date…

 “Crap,” he mumbled to himself. He slid the green button over and held it to his ear. “Regina, I am so sorry.”

“You were supposed to be here a half hour ago,” she said, her voice annoyed.

“I know, I’m so sorry. Something came up.”

“Something more important than helping your best friend plan her wedding?”

“One of Mary Margaret’s foster kids is in the hospital.”

Regina paused and he could almost see the frown on her face. “Which one?”

“Emma Swan.”

“Oh, I’ve um…I’ve seen her around. Is she okay?”

“She’ll be fine, she’s just a fighter. Regina…do you know why no one’s adopted her?”

“How would I know?”

“You adopted Lily a couple of years ago. Did you and Mallory even look at her?”

Regina sighed. “Truth?”

“Yes.”

“We did. We were really excited about it too, but it just didn’t work out. Emma made it clear that she didn’t want us adopting her.”

“Why?”

“She said she had one person in mind, Mary Margaret. We knew it wouldn’t be right for us to adopt her when she didn’t want us to be her mothers, adopting an older child is tricky enough.”

“But Mary Margaret can’t adopt her. Sidney and Zelena won’t let her.”

“Trust me, I’ve realized that. Hopefully in time, Emma will too, before she scares away every perspective adoptive family.”

David sighed. “I’m sorry I forgot about our plans.”

“It’s fine. Stay with Mary Margaret, she needs you more than I do right now.

“Thanks, Regina.”

“Anytime, though not literally. I would like to actually plan my wedding at some point.”

David chuckled. “Noted.”

 He grabbed the coffees along with some sandwiches for him and Mary Margaret. He had the faintest memories of getting his own appendix taken out as a kid and he loved eating a ton of ice cream. He decided on chocolate for Emma, what kid didn’t like chocolate? On his way back up, he passed by the gift shop and decided to stop in.

 Once he entered the room and divvied out the food, he could see had made the right choice. Emma brightened up a bit when it was placed on her tray.

 “Thanks, David,” she said.

“No problem, kiddo.” He held up a bag. “I got you some other stuff too. I know you don’t want to be on bed rest, but maybe this’ll make it more worthwhile.”

 Reaching into the plastic shopping bag, he pulled out a miniature Christmas tree. It was one of the fake ones, with yellow and red lights strung around it along with a few ornaments. He plugged it into a free outlet and placed it on the tray next to Emma’s ice cream. Her eyes lit up with excitement.

 “Whoa,” she whispered. “You got me a present?”

“Do you like it?”

“I love it. Thank you.”

 David looked over at Mary Margaret, who was smiling at him. She hadn’t expected him to be so sweet with Emma, she had wondered if inviting him to come was a mistake, given his history. Yet, he seemed to have been taken with her right from the get-go. She just hoped he didn’t disappear from Emma’s life, she had enough disappointment in it.

Emma was surprised when David returned the next morning. He had left some point after she fell asleep the night prior, though Mary Margaret had stayed. Her foster mother was now in the hall, talking with Jefferson about the other kids. David came over to her, smiling when he saw her Christmas tree set up.

 “You set it up.”

“Uh huh. You came back.”

The surprise in her voice broke his heart. “Of course I did, I had to check on my new pal.” He settled into the chair next to her bed. “I brought you another gift, well, it’s not really anything new. I stopped by the group home and a little girl named Grace told me that you may want it.” He reached into his messenger bag and pulled out her blanket.

Emma’s eyes lit up and she went to grab it, but leaning over still hurt. He gently placed it in her arms. “Thanks, this is…this is the only thing I have of my birth parents.”

“Do you know much about them?”

Emma shook her head. “Just what everyone else does. They abandoned me in the woods when I was a baby. Mary Margaret found me and brought me to the group home.”

David smiled, he had never known that. “Really?”

“Uh huh. She was taking a walk and said I was just there.” She shrugged. “I’ve been there ever since.”

“Really?”

“Well, I had another foster family for awhile. They were going to adopt me and everything, but then the woman got pregnant, so they sent me back.”

His smile turned to a frown. “Oh, that’s…I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I know who my mom is supposed to be.” She sighed. “Even if Mary Margaret doesn’t see it.”

“She loves you, Em, you’ve got to know that. If she could adopt you, she would. It’s just…”

“There are other grown-ups who think they know what’s best for me and they say no.” She bit her lip. “It’s not fair, that they get to decide. It’s my life, why do they get a say?”

“It’s their job, kiddo. Most people in their position do it responsibly and with the child’s best chance in mind.”

“But Mayor Greene doesn’t.”

David didn’t realize he was suddenly bashing the mayor. “Well, no, I didn’t day that…”

“But she doesn’t! She thinks she knows what’s best for me, but she doesn’t. If she did, then she’d let Mary Margaret adopt me, she’d let Jefferson and Robin adopt Grace and Roland. It’s not fair. It seems like no one around here is allowed to be happy. It sucks!”

 David gave a sympathetic nod. There were times he felt the same way. It wasn’t just Mary Margaret, Robin and Jefferson not being able to adopt children who clearly needed a home. It wasn’t even that he had lost his wife and child. No one in Storybrooke really seemed completely happy, outside Zelena. Even Regina, as happy as she was with Mallory and their daughter, she still seemed to lose every time she went up against Zelena for mayor. No matter how badly people wanted a change in Storybrooke, it wasn’t happening. Things were always the same, day in and day out.

 “Not much of life is fair,” he said, wanting to offer advice. “It does suck, but that’s how it is. But maybe, you can make the most of it.”

“How?”

“I know how badly you want Mary Margaret to adopt you, just as much as she wants to. However, as you’ve said, the powers to be aren’t agreeing with that. So, maybe it’s time for Plan B.”

“Which is?”

“Maybe accepting there’s another family out there to be your forever family.”

Emma frowned. “But…Mary Margaret…she is my family.”

“I know. But right now, this is how things are.”

“I don’t want to go with Albert and Blue.”

“So, don’t go with them.” David paused for a minute, his mind swirling. He had only just met Emma, but he could offer her a lot. He had to think about it more, but maybe…maybe it was worth a shot. “I have to go to work, but think about what I said. Think about your dream family and maybe it’ll come true.”

 David hopped up and walked out of the room, leaving Emma alone with her thoughts. She traced her name on her baby blanket, chewing on her lip. She knew David was probably right. She had pushed so many people away, clinging to hope that Mary Margaret could be her mother. Yet, she had been let down so many times before. She knew better than to hold on, yet, she had.

 It wasn’t fair, yet life wasn’t fair, that was what David had said. But why couldn’t life be fair? Why couldn’t people just be happy for once?

 She had long given up asking Santa for things, but if she could ask for something, it’d be for that. For everyone in town to get exactly what they wanted.

 Mary Margaret came back in the room, smiling. “Everyone says hi, they’re glad you’re doing better and can come home tomorrow. Grace has made sure that no one touches your bed.”

“That’s good.”

“Roland made you a card, he can’t wait to show it to you.”

Emma nodded. “David left?”

“Yeah, he had to get to work.” She settled down next to her. “Oh, he brought your baby blanket?”

“He went to the group home and Grace gave it to him.”

“Well that was nice, I think you made quite the impression on him, little lady.” She winked and reached into her bag. “He also gave me this, I guess he figured you might get bored of T.V.” She pulled out the storybook she had given Emma a few days earlier. “Did you get a chance to start reading this yet?” Emma shook her head. “Mind if I read to you? It’d be like old times.”

Emma smiled. “Sure.”

 Mary Margaret flipped it open to the story of Snow White. It was clear that this version of fairytales were a much different take than Disney’s. Snow White was a badass bandit, on the run from her evil step-mother. However, the two ended up burying the hatchet. Before they could return to the palace, however, the Evil Queen’s sister, the Wicked Witch, took over and they had to find a way to fight to get the kingdom back. Along the way, Snow White stole from a carriage she believed to be her step-aunt’s, but was really a shepherd masquerading as a prince. They fell in love, for her it was the moment she saw him fighting for her. For him, it was when she tried on his mother’s engagement ring.

 They’d lose each other and yet always find their way back. Their motto seemed to be “I’ll always find you.” Eventually, they defeated the Wicked Witch and were able to start a family. She smiled when she read her name aloud.

 “Emma.” She giggled, softly. “Looks like you just may be a fairytale princess after all.”

Emma made a face. “There’s no way I could be a princess.”

“It is a fairly common name, but I think you’d be a good princess. Look at Snow White in this story, she didn’t seem to be a girly girl. She was tough.” Her phone started buzzing and she looked down at it. “Uh oh, looks like there’s some paperwork problems. I’ll be right back.”

 Mary Margaret walked back out of the room, placing the book onto Emma’s tray. She carefully flipped through the pages. It showed the young princess growing up and she smiled a bit until she reached a certain illustration. It seemed to be the same as her vision from the night before. Carefully, she grazed the prince’s face and a rainbow light fell over her.

 David rocking her to sleep.

 Snow helping her get ready for her first ball.

 Sneaking to get desserts, running around with Alexandra and Grace. A million little moments of playing with her parents, rarely having a nanny unless necessary. Going on trips, all the birthdays, times they tucked her into bed.

 Zelena crashing her 8th birthday party. Her parents promising her it’d all be okay. Snow clinging tightly to her as their carriage was engulfed with green smoke.

 They erased all her foggy cursed memories and refilled her with the love and light she had once felt.

That woman in the hall wasn’t her foster mother, that was her mom. The man who had been there just a half hour prior, he was her father. Her family, they were all in Storybrooke. A small smile went across her face. It had been 2 years, but Zelena hadn’t won. It was broken.

 The door opened and her mother entered. “Mom!” She cried out.

Mary Margaret frowned. “Oh, Emma. I thought we talked about this…if Zelena hears you calling me that…”

“No, no.” Emma shook her head. This couldn’t be right, the curse was broken! “You’re my mom. David…he, he’s my father! We were all in Misthaven, Zelena’s curse, it sent us here.”

Mary Margaret looked at the book and gave it a sad smile. “You’ve got quite the imagination, there, sweetheart. When I said you were the princess in the book, I was just joking around. It’s not real, Ems. These are just fairytales.”

 Emma’s heart sunk in her chest as Mary Margaret took the book back and slid it into her bag. What was going on? If she was awake, why wasn’t anyone else?

David had gone to say Emma a few times once she was discharged from the hospital. Something seemed different about her. She seemed to want to cry the minute he entered the room and didn’t want him to leave. Mary Margaret mentioned that she had rambled about all of them being from a fairytale, but he figured that had to do with the medicine they had given her. According to Mary Margaret, it hadn’t been brought up since.

 He knew that a part of it was the medicine, but another was Emma clinging to hope to find a new family. Mary Margaret said, despite Zelena’s pushing, the Spencers were flat out refusing to have anything to do with Emma. She was worried, Emma’s chances at getting a family were declining more and more.

 David had given it a lot of thought. Emma was a great kid, he had been pulled to her from the moment he met her. There was just something about how stubborn she was, yet she was also filled with so much hope. They weren’t a family and maybe Emma wouldn’t consider him a father quite yet, but in time…who knew what was possible? At the very most, he wanted to foster her.

 He knew the first stop was talking to Zelena. She was the be all, end all in town. He slowly knocked on her door a week after Emma’s surgery. The snow was falling heavily outside, no doubt Christmas was coming. Even the mayor’s office had been decorated, head to toe with tinsel. Zelena opened the door, a smile going across her face.

 “David Nolan,” she said. “What do I owe this pleasure?”

“I was hoping to talk to you.”

“Come in.” Zelena lead him inside. “Can I offer you some tea?”

He was going to decline, but saw she was pouring it out already. “Sounds good.”

“Very well.” She settled down across from him at the desk, passing him his tea cup. “So, tell me. What’d you want to talk about?”

“I know you’ve told Mary Margaret Blanchard that she’s not qualified to adopt…”

“Mr. Nolan, this is hardly any of your business.”

“I’m not here to plead for her case. Although, I really do wish you’d reconsider…”

“You just said you weren’t here to plead her case.”

“Right, right.” He cleared his throat, the guilt setting in. This was Mary Margaret’s dream and he was taking it from her. He hated that, but it was all for Emma. “You see, I was wondering if you were against single parent adoption overall.”

“Well, I suppose if the parent made enough…” She tilted her head. “Are you interested in adoption?”

“I think Emma deserves a family. I haven’t known her long, but every time we’re together…I just feel connected to her somehow. I understand if I couldn’t adopt her right away, but at least fostering her. She needs a forever home and I think I could be that.”

  A smirk fell across Zelena’s lips. She had other plans for David, to get him out of town and making sure that when Snow woke up, there’d be no chance of a reunion. But this, this was better. She could send both David and Emma over the town line, forever erasing any chance of knowing who they were, never to be able to get back to Snow.

 And Snow White would be all alone.

 “If I’m not mistaken, hasn’t your job been talking to you about relocating to Boston?” She asked.

David nodded. “I wasn’t looking to say yes…”

“Mr. Nolan, I’m sure you know by now that I do what I can to help those I admire and I do admire you. A man, who’s lost so much, wanting to give to a little girl who has so little.” She patted his hand and mocked sympathy. “Especially after all you’ve been through.” She had to hide another smirk when his face fell at the mention of his faux wife and daughter. “I think we could make it work. I was going to push the adoption forward for the Spencers, I have connections after all…I could make it work for you. On one condition.”

“Which is?”

“You take the job in Boston.”

David arched an eyebrow. “What does that have to do with Emma?”

“The job provides more money, it would really make me feel more comfortable with you being a single parent.”

“But my life…it’s in Storybrooke…”

“You two could start over, fresh. That poor little girl has been through so much pain.” Zelena faked a frown. “You know, now that the Spencers are insistent on not having anything to do with her, I’m afraid you could be her last chance.”

 An hour later, Zelena stood on the steps of the group home, knocking. Mary Margaret opened the door,  sighing when she saw the mayor on the other side.

 “How can I help you Madam Mayor?”

“I’ve come to give you some good news about Emma.”

Mary Margaret’s eyes lit up. “You’ve changed your mind? Oh Miss Greene…”

“Not what I said, Miss Blanchard,” Zelena interrupted. “I meant, that I’ve found a family for Emma.”

“Who?”

“David Nolan. He’s expressed interest in adopting her.” She smirked. “Oh, and Mary Margaret? I’m aware she’s laid up due to her surgery, but have her things packed. She’ll be leaving for Boston with Mr. Nolan on Christmas Day.”