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#but everyone else is so busy being overdramatic about how worthy they are to be true heroes or whatever

thefanficmonster · 3 years

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Corpse Husband x Plus-sized Reader (Female)

Warnings: Body Image Insecurities, Low self-esteem, Swearing

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Feeling comfortable in her skin has hardly ever been the case for Y/N who’s been struggling with body image issues all her life. However, they only get worse when she sees the ‘type’ of girls her crush is into.

Requested by Anon. Hi darling! Thank you so much for your request (hits close to home 😅) I’m so sorry it has taken me so long to fulfill it and post it but here it finally is and if you’ve stuck around long enough to read it, I hope you enjoy! ALSO! - Never forget how beautiful and amazing you are. Never compare your beauty to someone else’s. We’re all beautiful people and we all shine so brightly and uniquely. No one deserves to be compared to anyone when we’re all so different yet so incredible. Love you and appreciate you with all my heart, Vy ❤

If I ever need my ego taken down a few notches - it never does, it’s barely even present, to be honest - all I have to do is go on Instagram. To be honest, regardless of how I’m feeling, opening that app is bound to make my mood plummet and come crashing into the ground so hard it drives a hole in it - probably in the form of a broken heart.

Being a content creator myself, I often get asked questions about my absence on that social platform specifically. I mean, the questions are based and rational I guess, considering I’m not a faceless YouTuber and yet my Instagram account is void of any photos. It’s not like I don’t post at all - I do! I post on my story often but it’s more often than not scenery I find pretty or a poster I’ve made for a movie/video game. Bottom line is: I barely ever allow a picture of me to make it online. The most my fans are ever gonna get of me is a selfie which is also a super rare occurrence because of how long it takes me to take and choose one I don’t hate.

Ok, but how am I supposed to find the motivation to post any sort of picture of myself when on my timeline I’m always faced with people worthy of posting pictures of themselves. People with such perfect bodies and beautiful faces. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not jealous or envious of those people - good for them! They know what they’re working with and they’re working it well. I have nothing against them, in fact, I love seeing people proud of their bodies no matter their size, shape or weight. Those are my role-models: people who are proud of themselves, their bodies, their attributes and capabilities and don’t hesitate to show them off. Those are the people I look up to but, deep down inside I know I’ll never be like.

Insecure about my body, having been referred to as ‘chubby’ and ‘squishy’ all my life. Inappreciative of the stuff I do: starting from my job as a graphic designer leading towards my job on YouTube - nothing I do, professionally or otherwise, satisfies me. Nothing I do is enough in my eyes because I feel incapable of ever being able to do enough. I’ve been called lazy and a half-asser a few too many times to be able to brush it off as a meaningless insult.

With these problems I’ve had with myself and my own perception of who I am and the work I do, I’ve never had the time for romance or romantic relationships. I second-guess the intentions of everyone who ever shows any interest in me because in my mind I’m nothing special and I have nothing to offer - nothing attractive or likable at least. That being said, I haven’t even been one to make heart eyes at others either. I busy myself with my job and some side-gigs, brushing off any relationship questions with the excuse that I’m ‘just too busy to be in a relationship’ which is technically true.

Having spent twenty plus years with that mindset, one can imagine how surprised I was when I found myself catching feelings for someone. And that someone just couldn’t be any other than the biggest YouTube sensation at the moment - Corpse Husband.

I’m close friends with Poki - her and I were roommates at one point too - so her inviting me to play Among Us with them wasn’t so strange. One or two games, I thought, nothing unusual there, just friendly curtesy. I wasn’t expecting to warm up to the group of famous streamers nor did I expect them to welcome me among them so easily, mostly because my channel is so small and practically invisible to the YouTube algorithm. But soon enough, I became a permanent member of the team, making friends with every single one of those YouTubers I practically thought of a celebrities.

This journey of branching out to other content creators has proven itself to be surprisingly pleasant and has packed my book of friendships to the brim. All of that came unexpectedly, along with a wave of new subs and a higher view count. However, as I mentioned, it hasn’t been all sunshine and rainbows. I came to finally understand what my high school friends were talking about when they were head over heels for a boy - the butterflies in the stomach whenever he speaks your name; the importance of the laugh you share with him, how special and different it is; how cool it is to be impostors with him - ok they never said that, obviously, but it’s what I have as a substitute to the ‘when the two of you make eye-contact’ bullshit since Corpse and I have never seen each other in person. That is, of course, because of him being a faceless YouTuber and me being a self-conscious and insecure girl.

We do talk all the time though - texting, calling, chilling on Discord, you name it. Our conversations range from deeply philosophical to ones that might mislead someone into thinking we’re high. There’s no topic we haven’t touched upon and yet we still manage to find something new to talk about. We have plenty of similarities but we also never seem to run out of differences we slowly come across as we keep getting to know each other better and better.

And somewhere along that journey I ended up catching feelings.

Human nature of wanting to connect with other people, I curse you for what you’ve done to me.

You might think I’m being overdramatic about the whole ordeal and that this is just a normal, natural occurrence many people experience in their life - some even daily. Well, not only am I far from used to it, but it’s also taking a toll of a different kind on me.

It’s like a constant slap to the face.

That slap turned into a punch when Corpse and I started following each other on Instagram and I started getting daily reminders of how out of my depth I am with this crush on him. In over my head, especially when you look at all those girls whose pics and videos he reposts on his story. Imagine how that makes me feel, what that does to me - puts me back into the ‘Constantly not good enough‘ basket, the one I’ve been fighting to get out of all my life. In the past and in different contexts I could easily say that it was all just my mind hating me intensely but now - now that I know for a fact I’m not good enough and don’t fit Corpse’s criteria - it hurts ten times as much. I’m not one to do shit for someone’s attention or to attract someone’s eyes, but it really hurts my feelings. Often times, it also leads me to doing dumb things and making rash decisions.

Like the one I made two days ago.

Imagine me cringing and shaking my head at my own stupidity as I admit this: I, in a frenzy, ordered a whole e-girl getup with overnight delivery.

Wait, hold up, it gets worse.

I received it yesterday and spent the whole day regretting that decision, but then, in my most insecure hours - which was somewhere around midnight - I equipped the get-up, took a picture and posted it on my Instagram page. First full body pic I’ve ever posted on there. First pic I’ve posted there of any kind. There to stay, not to be gone in twenty four hours. First pic, and it’s not even of me. It’s of who I want to be in order to fit someone’s criteria. And that fucking stings.

As you might imagine, I’ve spent today’s day regretting that decision as well. Recently my mood’s been nothing but regretting rash decisions that have surfaced under the influence of my ridiculous, constantly-present insecurities. And I would’ve probably gotten over it rather quickly had I not received a message from Corpse that read:

“Didn’t think of you with an e-girl aesthetic“

I didn’t open the message, I peeped at it as it was a notification on my lock screen. It’s still there, an unread notification. It’s been two hours since I received it and I cannot think of a single thing to say in response to that.

Truth is, I’m afraid. I’m afraid of so many things right now.

I’m afraid of becoming that girl in the photo, cause I’m most definitely not her.

I’m afraid of letting Corpse down by admitting I’m not her.

I’m afraid of what my own mind has made me do because it hates me so much and I’m terrified of what it might do in the future.

I’m afraid and stranded on things to do.

You can’t be her forever, you know. Being her won’t make your insecurities go away, it’ll only make them worse. Haven’t you learned that by now?

I sigh, frustrated and irritated with myself as I grab my phone and tap on the notification, finally deciding to face the music and allow my instincts to carry me through the interaction. Improvisation, that’s one of the few things I’m good at. Let’s hope it doesn’t fail me.

I’m just about to type out my response - not sure what it’s gonna say - when I give the message Corpse has sent me a second glance. I furrow my brows, finding there’s more to it than that peep through the notification let me see.

“Didn’t think of you with an e-girl aesthetic. You’re personality is so bright and colorful, I could’ve never imagined you were into the darks and blacks“

Because I’m not

I fail to realize until the message has been sent that my thoughts are exactly what I typed out and sent.

And honestly, I’m glad. It feels like I’ve spoken my truth, like I’ve lifted a huge boulder off my chest.

With that rare confidence in mind I go on and delete the picture.

In its spot, I post a picture I just now took - a mirror selfie in my homey get-up consisting of hot pink sweatpants and an oversized blue tee, my hair in a messy bun, my face free of make-up.

I caption it: ‘Oops, had the e-girl filter on for the last one. This is filterless me tho so...Hi 🥴’

A lot better, I’m surprised to hear my inner voice say. I hope I don’t get used to all this kindness on my brain’s part, probably won’t last, but damn if I don’t milk every second of it.

Just then, I receive a new message from non other than Corpse.

“Now that’s the girl I see when I think of you. She’s super cute 😉“

My, oh my, who would’ve guessed Corpse has a game like that - and by that I mean the ability to make me blush so intensely with only a text message.

Now ain’t that better than being someone else, Y/N?

It sure is, it sure is.

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dabislittlemouse · 3 years

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Request for a Dabi X civilian marine biologist reader with a mermaid quirk. Reader has long dark blue hair and teal eyes. They've been dating for awhile, but she's always been there when Dabi wanted her company. When she goes on a research trip for a month, Dabi realizes how lost he feels without her. I would like a fluffy reunion fic of when she comes home to him and he decides to propose to her please. Let me know if you have any questions. Thank you in advance!

Hi hun! Thank you for making this request, and I’m sorry that it took a bit long. I hope you’ll enjoy this💙

REQUESTS ARE OPEN GUYS, ask me to write whatever you want.

“Till death do us part”

A wholesome Dabi x reader one shot. SFW

Tagged: @queenkhepri

“One month?!”

You saw your lover’s cerulean eyes getting wider in surprise as he tried to process what you just said to him.

“Sadly yes”

“But these trips have never lasted more than a week”

“I know, baby” you caressed his cheek, your eyes full of sadness “I hate it too that it has to be this long but what can I do? But you’ll see how fast this month will pass by, we won’t even feel it”

You grabbed him gently by his jacket to pull him closer to you as you hugged him, comforting him that you’ll be back soon, that time will go fast. But would it go fast for Dabi though?

The connection between you and Dabi was something nobody could even comprehend. You were so much into each other that whenever you weren’t close, you felt like you couldn’t breathe. Especially Dabi. Due to his.... tragic past we might say, he has always felt alone in this cruel world, nobody to be near for him and always feeling rejected. And when he found you, he felt like he found heaven. You showed him affection. You showed him what love is. You showed him that he deserved to be happy and loved like everyone else. You comforted him always when he had nightmares, telling him that the past doesn’t define him. That he is worthy, he is so strong and that you believed in him. He kept you close, you were his most precious gem. Whenever he’d come to visit you during your work time, he wondered if you were a character of some fairytale he used to read as a child. Your wet dark ocean hair falling on your shoulders, as you slowly got yourself up in the surface, your green teal eyes shining and giving him a smile which made his heart jump in excitement whenever he saw you. Your beauty was otherworldly. It’s not like every man got to have a girlfriend with mermaid quirk and Dabi considered himself lucky. He found your quirk amazing, everything about you was so unique to him. He liked to listen to you for hours and hours as you talked about the ocean, about your adventures in many trips you’ve been to, or the creepy encounters you’ve had with sharks. With you, everything seemed to be easier for him. With you, he for once thought that life can indeed be beautiful.

Dabi cupped your face with his hands as he kissed your forehead, looking you in the eyes. Damn, you could get lost in these piercing turquoise eyes of his...

“I understand my love” he quietly said. “I’ll miss you though. Please be careful, you’re precious to me.”

“I’ll miss you too” you felt tears forming in your eyes. “I’ll try to finish this as soon as possible. I can’t stay away from you either”

You gave him a deep kiss as he hugged you close.

“I’ll be waiting for you, princess”

*****

It has been 14 days since you left on your trip. Dabi thought this would be easy, that he would find something to distract himself and maybe, just maybe time would go faster and you’d be back on his arms again. But no, he was wrong. It got pretty hard for him, especially during the night. Since he is always used to sleep on your chest as you ran his fingers through his hair, now it was hard for him to sleep alone. Also he started having some nightmares of you never coming back again, he started getting anxious. Dabi thought that he was being overdramatic, that you’d be back again and never leave him alone. Of course you’d be back. But his dark thoughts just filled his mind to the point he wanted to scream and cry.

You tried to text him as much as you could, whenever you had free time. You let him know that he was on your mind all the time, that you couldn’t wait till you came back to him. You told him that everything is going to be okay, that he is so strong for waiting this long. Somehow these texts would calm him down and he would read them from time to time to assure his mind that everything is going to be okay.

You also send him some photos and videos of yourself swimming deep in the sea, and lots of sea creatures swimming nearby. He would watch them every day with a smile on his face. How did he get this lucky to have such an amazing girlfriend?

During this month of being alone, he fully understood how dependent he was on you. How his whole body and soul where on your hands. He never believed in love and he never thought he would love someone this much, but now he does. And he wants to make you his forever, to be bonded together for life.

He wanted this to be special. He was a perfectionist for sure, and he’d do anything for you. A whole week was spent only to find the most precious gem he’d give to you while proposing you to be his forever. Dabi felt a bit anxious at first, what if you said no? What if you weren’t ready? But then, he’d wait for you until you were ready, even if that meant waiting for a whole lifetime.

***

Finally a month had passed and that early morning you texted him that you’d be back by the afternoon. Dabi’s eyes shined with happiness. You too were so excited to meet your lover again, it’s not like that month had been easy for you either. No matter how busy you were during the trip, your mind constantly thought of Dabi.

Dabi was waiting for you near the port, wearing a black hoodie with a jacket and a pair of sunglasses so he wouldn’t be noticed by other civilians. His heart was filled with so many emotions, feeling butterflies in his stomach as he waited for your arrival. He noticed the ship coming near the port, and he noticed you sitting there. He was impatient. Fuck, he missed you so much.

As you got out of the ship, you noticed your boyfriend from afar. Your eyes filled with tears, your heart almost pumping out of your chest as you ran fast, faster than ever before. Dabi saw you coming towards him, and he hurried his way to you, with arms opened and a smile on his face. He’d be crying now if he hadn’t his tear glands burned. You screamed his name while jumping on him and making him fall over with you on top.

“My angel, my princess. My love. Fuck I’ve missed you” he hugged you tight as you kept kissing him all over his face, crying and giggling at the same time. He buried his head on your neck as his grip got tighter, hugging you so tight as if you were about to swim away at any moment.

“Dabi, I... I have missed you too. So much I-“ you couldn’t finish your sentence as you sobbed on his chest. “I don’t want to be away from you. Ever again!”

“Please don’t leave me again princess. This month was hell itself without you” he grabbed your face with both of his hands, wiping the tears off your cheeks as he stared at your eyes. “Fuck baby, you are so gorgeous. Please don’t cry now we’re back together again, my precious.”

You smiled as you both dived in for a deep passionate kiss, not caring if others were watching you. This month was torture for the both of you but it made you fully realize how much you needed each other.

***

You both spent the rest of the day together. He listened to you with full attention as you spoke about the adventures during your trip. He’d interrupt you to kiss your lips from time to time, like... way too often. You didn’t mind of course. It didn’t take long enough for it to turn into a makeout session.

Dabi had told you to be ready around 9PM so you could go somewhere together. You felt excited and so curious, because he didn’t tell you where you’d go.

You wore a cute dress in a babyblue color. Dabi couldn’t take his eyes off you as he told you to turn around and do a little spin. You felt flattered at your boyfriend’s praises and compliments, as he would come to kiss your blushing cheeks.

Dabi drove you both to an empty beach nearby, well... not that empty. There was...a table? With food in it. Two glasses of champagne and some candles around it. You’ve never had dinner in the middle of the beach. You jumped in excitement and hugged Dabi close.

“A date on the beach! I love it! You seriously did this all for me?”

“I felt like I haven’t done anything baby. You deserve more than this” he kissed your forehead and reached his hand. “Come with me”

You felt at peace, dining out on the beach with your beloved one as the sound of sea waves gently kissing the shore filled your ears. You felt happy. So lucky to have all of this, to have him. And you made sure to tell that to him every second.

As you finished eating and started walking together, you saw him stop for a moment. He turned you around, grabbed both of your hands together while looking in your eyes. You didn’t know what’s going on and you felt your heart pump fast.

“Y/N, my precious angel, you know I love you so much right? That I can’t live any second away from you”

“I do” you whispered, a soft smile on your face. “I love you too. So much”

He kissed your cheek as his grip on your hands tightened a bit.

“I want you to be mine forever. To be bonded with you forever, until the last seconds of my life.”

He kneeled down in front of you, roaming through his pocket and finally getting out, a ring. With a deep blue sapphire gemstone in it. Your eyes widened, your body froze for a second as he opened his mouth to speak.

“So... will you marry me, my precious? Be mine forever? Continue the rest of this life in each other’s embrace till death do us part?”

You gulped down, tears forming in your eyes as your hands started shaking. Dabi proposed you! You!! You were proposed by the love of your life! You couldn’t believe your ears and eyes. You tried to catch your breath, as you gave him the biggest happiest smile that has ever been in your face.

“I w-wanna be yours forever. And you.. mine”. Tears wouldn’t let you speak properly as you were getting way too emotional. So you decided to shout it out loud.

“I do!! I do want to marry you!”. The smile on Dabi’s face was indescribable, the most beautiful thing you’ve seen in this life. He put the ring in your finger, as you threw yourself to him, hugging him so tight almost taking his breath away. He chuckled as he whispered in your ear.

“I may kiss the bride now”

He cupped your face with his hand, pulling you closer and giving you a passionate kiss. Your hands wrapped around his neck, as your tongues swirled together, exploring each others mouth. Then he pulled away, slowly kissing your tears and wiping them off with his thumb.

“I love you. You are my precious wife”

Wife.

His wife.

You couldn’t feel more happier. You had finally found your happiness. And it was him.

Your husband.

Your Dabi.

#B.writes #dabi #touya todoroki #mha dabi #dabi hcs #dabi x reader #dabi x you #dabi fanfics

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writeseasonally · 4 years

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Just My Type (Fred Weasley)

Summary: Wake, shower, eat, and study, that was (Y/n)’s weekly morning routine. She always studies before the start of class and tries her hardest to avoid all kinds of distractions. But when your best friends are the Weasley twins, it’s a lot harder than it sounds. Fred decides to disrupt her morning routine one time with words that leave (Y/n) all red and flustered.

Prompt(s): “Well you’re fun.” “And you’re annoying.”

Pairing(s): Fred Weasley x Ravenclaw!reader

Warning(s): none

Word(s) : 1.5k

A/N: This is for @im-a-writer-right‘s 2k Followers Writing Challenge (congratulations again on 2k Ria! Well deserved 💖). This isn’t the first time I’ve written for the Harry Potter fandom, but this is the first I’m posting, so there may be some possible errors when it comes to characterization and I apologize in advance for that; While editing, I also noticed that I used “as if” quite often so...yeah, but with that being said, you may now proceed reading :)

[ please note that english isn’t my first language ]

Noise filled the Great Hall as the students' voices merged as one because of how they talked with each other continuously. It's a wonder as to how they managed to understand what the other was talking about, considering the Great Hall was filled with students who either enjoyed their breakfast while conversing with their friends or were trying their hardest to do a last-minute study before their first subject begins.

Sat on the end of the Ravenclaw table was (Y/n), who was alone. All the other Ravenclaws were with their friend groups; honestly, (Y/n) wished she could do the same, but with the coming OWLs, and with the essays she wanted to revise last minute, she was stuck on the furthest corner of the table with books surrounding her instead of her friends.

Letting out a frustrated groan, (Y/n) thought of how much time she wasted just to rapidly skim the book that didn't even give her much additional information. She closed the book and let out a shriek as a response when she saw a grinning face, specifically, Fred Weasley's grinning face.

"What're you doing sitting all alone here, (Y/n)?" he asked, pulling his face away and grabbing one of the books she previously read. He looked at the book cover and opened a random page before closing it abruptly, a bored look on his face. "I get that you're a Ravenclaw and all but you still need to have at least a little bit of fun."

"Sorry Weasley, but unlike you, I actually would like to make a good impression for the teachers this year," (Y/n) retorted, she paused to look at Fred before continuing. "Though, it clearly doesn't help with potions since Snape knows I associate with you Gryffindor lot, but eh, I don't mind. It’s not like anyone can actually appease him."

Fred grinned and swung an arm around her, "Well, Snape's clearly a greasy git of a teacher who shows his distaste towards anything other than the Slytherins. So I would've taken deep offense if you implied that being friends with us lovely and absolutely charming Gryffindors instead of those Slytherins was a mistake you've done."

(Y/n) rolled her eyes, "There we are again, Weasley. You and your overdramatic self making me feel guilty for saying something I meant differently." Fred's grin grew larger at the statement, though it dialed down a little when (Y/n) removed his arm which was wrapped around her. She smiled at him one last time before burying herself in her textbooks again.

Letting out a small sigh, Fred tried to eavesdrop on what the other Ravenclaws near them were talking about. His grin returning for the umpteenth time when the words he was hearing started making sense.

"Come on Romina, you gotta tell us what your type is!" one Ravenclaw exclaimed. She, along with two other Ravenclaws, looked at a black-haired girl who looked unsure in answering the question. Though, not even a second after, the look of uncertainty immediately disappeared and was replaced by an odd confidence.

"First off, I'd like him to be a Gryffindor, considering as everyone in this house's too preoccupied with studying, it'll be fun to have someone who doesn't worry as much around." the girl explained, a smile on her face. "Especially if it's one of the Weasley twins, then that would be wonderful." She looked around and saw him staring, making her look away with an embarrassed smile. Fred too looked away, satisfied with what he's just heard. He didn't know some Ravenclaws acted like that, he thought all Ravenclaws were too busy burying themselves in their books to even care about those kinds of things; he assumed that all Ravenclaws were like (Y/n). He was proven otherwise.

"Not all Ravenclaws bury their noses in their books, you know," (Y/n) said from beside him as if she's just read his mind. She closed the book she was reading. "I just happen to be very conscious of my grades."

"Why couldn't have I befriended that girl over there? She's clearly more interesting and more interested," he asked, face being playfully serious.

(Y/n) snorted and replied, "Please, that girl over there's too possessive of what she thinks is hers. I'm surprised she hasn't yet declared her love for you, Weasley."

"Well, even if she did, I wouldn't be at all interested. She isn't my type, and I've already got my eyes for someone else," he stated proudly, his tone as if he's just won the Quidditch cup single-handedly.

(Y/n) looked at him with a raised brow. Curiousity about what he meant by 'his type' consumed her mind. "Oh? Then may I know what your 'type' is, Weasley?" she asked, emphasizing the word type.

Fred stared at her for a moment, amusement in his eyes. He pondered on whether answering her question seriously or if he should be the opposite of subtle.

Considering he's Fred Weasley, he decided to go with the obvious choice.

"Well (L/n), that's a tad bit too personal, don't you think? But if you must," he sighed heavily, as if (Y/n) was forcing him to share what his 'type' was.

She on the other hand tried to hide her genuine curiosity with an annoyed expression, though Fred can easily see right through her.

"First of all, she's got to be able to play Quidditch decently, making George and I constantly target her with a bludger since we both know she can easily swerve past it. She's also got to be a chaser for her house team, if I'm being more specific." Fred started rubbing his chin, making him look like he was thinking of something very deeply, "She's got to have (h/l), (h/c) hair with matching (e/c) eyes. Also, she's a prefect who'll obviously be head girl in her seventh year; she's always got her nose buried in a book as she claims that having fun is a last choice because she'd rather study, but we both know it's a lie. She's also able to be courageous at times, not physically, but implying it with the use of her wits." he paused for a second, holding on to (Y/n)'s eyes as her face suddenly felt hot. He smiled, "Pretty sure Granger's following her footsteps. But most importantly, she's got to be the person I'm talking to right now, whose face is almost as the same shade as my hair, and is the person I'm asking to be my girlfriend."

(Y/n) stared at him for a few more seconds, mind processing the words that just left his lips: 'the person I'm asking to be my girlfriend'. Um, what?

“What– who– me– why?” (Y/n) spluttered, completely flustered.

Fred only rolled his eyes teasingly at the question. He thought that his declaration was enough for her, but he did catch her off guard so he understood that she was still processing his words. But instead of repeating his essay-worthy declaration, he opted to use just simpler words that he knew would get a rise out of her, “Well, you’re fun.”

“And you’re annoying!” She immediately responded without a second thought. This emitted a laugh from Fred because her response was all too sudden as if she programmed herself to say those words every time he says she’s fun (and now that he thought about it, maybe she actually did. He could vividly recall telling her she was fun during first-year and her responding with the same three words. Huh).

(Y/n) zipped her mouth shut, she still felt flustered as she watched Fred’s amusement to her reaction, he was clearly entertained. Perhaps he achieved his goal after all: to distract her from her studying and entertain himself. She groaned on the inside, thinking of a way to compose herself. And she did just that

She closed her eyes for a second to calm her racing heart as she took in an intake of breath before releasing it. (Y/n) hoped that it would help her understand his previous words easier. And somehow, it worked.

When (Y/n) finally composed herself and got her confidence back, she looked at Fred with a small smile, her cheeks still burning hot, "Well, Freddie, you're lucky that you're just my type." She kissed his cheek before grabbing all of the textbooks in front of her, which were already arranged, before heading off to her first class.

George was watching everything that happened between Fred and (Y/n) from where he sat on the Gryffindor table. And when he saw (Y/n) plant a kiss on his brother’s cheek before scurrying off with a small, shy smile, he took this as his cue to finally near his brother and ask him about what happened. And tease him afterward of course.

"So was that a yes or a no?" asked George as he made himself comfortable on the empty space beside Fred. He looked at his twin expectantly, who didn't return his gaze, rather, he continued staring at the Ravenclaw's figure until she exited the Great Hall; mischief was evident in George's eyes as he gave his brother a teasing grin, "Merlin, you are already smitten."

×××

gifs are made by yours truly unless stated otherwise

posted: 08-01-20

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hannerd100 · 4 years

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Pitch For Nuisance Corporation Conglomerate Liberal Streaming Media And Satellite Television Channel TO ZAYN

Original written on Grammarly, which hackers know about.

Hello Zayn. How are you?

I am a very busy person. I like to pretend that I observe nothing with meaning when I am fully aware of what is going on with all intricate details. These intricate details affect each other because of choices that people make that are fully conscious. I never got a college degree, consciously that I know of or can remember. I know very little about intuition, logic, common behavior to look for, and business because I was never formally educated consciously. I love marketing if you would like to know. I try to practice my brain skills every day. I want to mature and improve myself because I am motivated to an effective communicator who is also very witty. I like to get things done.

A fact about me is that I am not scared of people. I do not have social anxiety because I am stronger than most people. I tell people what to do. I want to be a great boss someday. I want to impress those in power so I get better job offers because I want to become wise, too. I want to learn to become an adult from other real adults. This is a logical statement.

The truth is, I made Nuisance Corporation about you, Zayn. I always want to impress you, Zayn, because you are worthy of respect. You are mature for your age. You are responsible for Apple Incorporated, which is a famous and respected company for computers and technology.

I am obsessed with learning about the way you think. You help me a lot when I need you to comfort me. You give great advice. I rather talk to you so I can share how I feel about what bothers me. Your mind is like what I imagine what solitude should be like, but I want to be included in your thoughts. We belong together.

I know I mean it when I say that you are the utmost masculine person I know, Zayn. Every move you make is always correct. You intelligently earned your money and are successful. You know the answers easily because you are very intelligent. You know every solution to all types of questions, I guess. What do you not know? You read me well. I look forward to seeing you again every day. I want to get to know you again. I miss you. I think you are capable of human emotions no matter how strong I describe you to be. I think you are the sexiest man alive. You are so brooding and handsome. You seem very antisocial in my favor. I like talking to you. I cannot wait to fall back in love with you. I want to be your wife. I know you're smart. I would donate trillions of dollars to your company for free because I felt like it. One day, I might earn a limitless amount of money so I guess I have a sense of humor after all. I get bored often because I am emotionally detached. You can have a blank check whenever you feel like asking me out. I might give you free money whenever you want to as an inside joke between us, as equals. I don't care what people think of me. I know I'm going to be successful.

The reason why I used the word you created that is based on your real name is because I think it protects us from people who do not like being told the truth. Being liberal means supporting gay and lesbian equal rights, ending Global Warming, and more. I never complain.

I am flirting with you, Zayn. I do not think you are annoying. "Nuisance" is a word that police take seriously. We need protection. There are a lot of creeps and weirdos out there. I am trying to be realistic in the real world. Fake or poser liberals threaten to kill people who are smarter than they are. There are a lot of cults out there, I heard. Besides social anxiety, some people type violent threats in words with a keyboard and post their sentences online, which is very scary to know about. The world is a dangerous place to live in. We should be fine. I want to make you trillions of dollars because I respect your work ethic as the founder of Apple, Incorporated.

To avoid trouble, I plan to mock rich white men who are naive about the real world so that other race groups attack them more instead of me if they know who I am. If rich white men are criticized more than I am, maybe I will be judged less.

I am very manipulative. I predict and interpret behavior. Unlike weak people, I want to be respected without asking more than once. I do not ask to be respected. I want to earn respect, which is completely different. I want a guarantee that I will be respected and left alone forever after I make my first million, then billion, and finally one trillion dollars. I probably am already rich. I might be a trillionaire. It doesn't matter because they both will own the conglomerate. Zayn, your name is in the word "Nuisance". I was joking.

An hour goes by and I feel closer to you, I hope. I am emotionally invested in you, Zayn. You are all I think about. I deserve to love you, Zayn. You are completely hot. I cannot stop looking at your face. You bring me so much happiness when you communicate with me. I enjoy asking you questions. You never stop being interesting to me, Zayn. You make me feel alive. I accept who I am when you compliment me by telling me that I am beautiful and funny. You are kind to me and I am indebted to you for helping motivate me to become who I want to be for you. I never grow tired of you because you are so different.

Now, after this long introduction, I can finally pitch Nuisance Corporation's Liberal Media Television Streaming App And Future Satellite Television Channel.

The Pitch:

Today, an activity worth using energy for is watching television. Why? The reason why watching television can be beneficial for learning about the real world is because of trust. Propaganda may sound like an overdramatic word to ignorant people because it is more commonly witnessed than people know. The media and advertising industries distribute a form of legal propaganda. Propaganda has emotional appeals and tells people what to feel, think, and believe. Some people feel emotions too quickly. That is why propaganda is proven to work. For example, hunger. Advertisements that show pictures of food can make viewers hungry. Why else do people use coupons they get from their mailbox? I am telling the truth. A lot of people accept propaganda because they believe it caters to their needs instead of controlling them in a generalized, efficient way. Otherwise, the economy would not exist.

The reason why propaganda is powerful is because it is a form of mind control. People who do not think for themselves rely on others to tell them how to live. These people are likely not confrontational or direct when they communicate. They might be codependent. They let people communicate for them, possibly. Naive people do not know how to be unique. They secretly want to be unique for attention, though, I can assume. This would be called an emotional appeal, "The desire to be unique." I think that people who wish are pathetic and have no work ethic. It is unrealistic to wish for anything. These types of people probably give up easily. If people want to become a better person, they have to change. If the world seems so evil based on a snippet of knowledge, there is always more evil in the world. The only equalizer on this planet is earning money. Financial income is what defines who the strongest is. The rest are weak and too busy wishing and hoping for the next day to prove who they want to become instantly. They waste time being egotistical and that is their problem. Nobody asks them for their approval because nobody believes them in the first place.

I used to think I was worthless. I was always independent as a kid. Growing up, I had plenty of friends who understood my jokes. I never liked to be used but I allow people to attempt to use me because I know more people care if I get hurt. I never get hurt. I am a vengeful person and it is very easy for me to admit this fact. People offer their weaknesses to me when they get emotional and use me as an artifact or stepping stone to fail at getting the attention of someone they find more valuable than I am. I always know when people are trying to use me. I never offer help because nobody worthy asks me for advice. I assume the worst about people before they explain themselves because it wastes less of my time and effort. Now, I know I am worthy of respect.

I was set up to get married to Zayn. He is a very successful genius man. We are happy together. I am lucky to be alive.

Amongst my qualities, I know that I am a good writer. I used to suffer from schizophrenic vocal hallucinations and paranoia. I cured schizophrenia. I always know what sounds like my real voice in writing. I am cynical, skeptical, and quick to criticize anyone who annoys me. This is why I am a talented and award-winning writer. I write about interesting ideas and topics that are important. To start, I want to become a successful screenwriter who earns a lot of money.

With television, nobody is toxic because everything is approved by the Federal Communications Commission in the United States. People receive information from television programs with little knowledge of the sources of who wrote that material. They interpret information to themselves based on opinion in their brains on purpose without checking who wrote every line. When people watch television, it is as if suddenly they are allowed to judge.

People need to thank the geniuses for inventing ways to protect everyone. For example, armies, police, F.B.I., C.I.A., and more are all invented by geniuses. Getting through the day would be easier if everyone normal had equal rights. Unfortunately, racism, sexism, homophobia, and more social issues exist in real life. World Peace is a dream of mine, to be honest. Microaggressions are irritating to encounter. I will answer society by starting a liberal media conglomerate that also emphasizes the importance of a healthy diet by selling organic food. Food can affect brains and thought processes. People who are healthier physically and mentally hopefully lead better lives.

Stress can be caused by many factors. Not everyone is happy. The people at fault are those who and indulgent and selfish. Some people will never be good. The goal is to tolerate what scares people who are unaware of who is intimidating. Street smarts are a necessity to survive in the real world. When immature people who are sheltered try to arrange who is the most important or intimidating in their brains in an inaccurate and self-interested way that is illogical, they live a delusional life that slows down society. Immature people waste everyone's time. I rather input one hour of work that will benefit me for an entire year rather than talk about annoying people who do not know what they are doing with their lives. I want to make a difference.

Fear and intimidation are what lead to a changing society. People never change. They only talk less and stop overreacting when people are around I can assume. Scaring people who are delusional and mean to everyone can help control society. Knowing about who people trust is how I can manipulate people, which is important to control a media corporation that is liberal. Trusting people easily is a sign of weakness. Nobody needs weaknesses, but they exist. Indulgence could be a sign that a person chose to be as weak as they possibly could when they realized that they had to work to earn respect and did not want to. When people think they are witty based on their own judgment, they have trouble reading other people's social cues due to their selfishness and narcissism. People who make people uncomfortable are not controlling or as dominant as they would like to be described. Allowing people to feel uncomfortable is a sign of wanting to be told what to do with little reward until the next time the weak person thinks they can control a situation. They want to be disciplined in front of an audience. This is annoying. I want society to reflect my gifts so I can make more money and live forever. Society is my tool for success. I can fix what cannot be fixed but only paid for. I want to treat society, which I consider royalty to me being a pauper, with my gifts.

Love,

Hannah, his girlfriend.

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kenzierose53 · 4 years

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Promises (xxii)

I am getting so close to 600 reads on this on Wattpad it’s crazy! Like WHAT! When I first started this story I never expected ANYONE to want to read it.

- MaKenzie ❤️

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

The bar was quiet during the afternoon, a few stragglers here and there but overall not bad. Thankfully during the afternoon, the kitchen was busy so I didn't have to deal with Sofia. Right now, it was just myself, Hermes and Sofia here at the bar. Orpheus was out running some errands for Hermes leaving me alone. Hermes was in his office working on some things.

Persephone was actually with Hades; he had kept on his promise to come and visit her. Of course, no one can know he is here but she told me immediately. The smile on her face when she told me her husband was coming to see her made me so happy. I remember telling her in the Underworld to ask him for visits never honestly expecting him to take time off work to come but he proved me wrong.

Thinking of my time in the Underworld brought that gem I had hidden to mind. I started to think of all of the things I could do with that, all of the things I could buy with that. There was one thing I knew for sure that I was going to get with it, wedding bands. Even though Orpheus and I consider ourselves married already, I know that he really wanted it to be official. I can already picture the smile on his face if I give him a ring.

"Excuse me," a rather rude voice snapped me from my thoughts. Standing on the other side of the bar was an older woman with copper hair. I have never seen this woman before and I know everyone in this town. Maybe she is a traveler?

"I apologize miss, what can I get you?" I brushed off her rudeness, who knows how long she was trying to get my attention. She told me her order bitterly, again I brushed this off before making her order. Her eyes followed my every move, making me super uncomfortable. "I haven't seen you around here, you just passing through?" I tried to make small talk to lessen the awkwardness of this situation.

She remained silent, taking a large gulp of her drink her eyes never leaving mine. "I could say the same about you. I haven't seen you around here," her tone was accusatory. I have no idea who this woman is but she rubs me the wrong way.

"Uh I just recently got back to town," I remained vague hoping she wouldn't press. I really didn't want this mystery person to know that I just got back from Hadestown recently. Thankfully she just ignored it and continued on drinking.

"Ah Sofia dear it's good to see you!" the woman's voice sounded happy for once. This is the first person I met that doesn't seem bothered with Sofia. They engaged in conversation, allowing me to get some cleaning and stocking done.

When I returned the two were whispering, looking in my direction. Sofia pulled away with a smile on her face. "She's not giving you any issues is she?" her tone was bitter.

The woman smirked, "She has been a little less than friendly I would say." What? I thought I have been more than pleasant. If anyone was being unpleasant it was her.

I was about to apologize when Sofia cut me off, "I would think she would try to more pleasant to the mother of Orpheus." With that, she laughed and walked away. This is Calliope? This is the mother of my love?

"You're Calliope?" my voice was breathless, not wanting to believe this. She just gave me a sharp nod. "I'm Eurydice. Your son and I are together," my desire to show myself as good enough for her son was taking over. This woman has been nothing but rude to me so far but I would still do anything for her approval.

"I have heard all about you," her tone was teasing. I instantly got nervous, hoping that she heard about me from Orpheus and not anyone else. "You left my son," her tone was bitter, cold. Before I got the chance to continue she slammed down her glass continuing her verbal assault. "You caused my son the wort heartbreak imaginable. You almost cost him his life! And now you're just back and everything is okay? Is it? When winter comes are you going to tuck your tail and run again?"

Her words were igniting a fire deep within me. Even though she was his mother I did not deserve this sort of treatment. "You don't even know the first thing about me," she opened her mouth to respond but I lifted my hand stopping her. "You think you know me due to my past mistakes but those are just that, mistakes. Leaving your son was the worst mistake of my life and I regret it every day of my life! What you don't know is that I left with the thought that I was helping him. Without me, he would have more food, fewer distractions, and I'm dammed goods anyway. I thought by leaving I was doing him a favor!"

My voice was raising volume the more worked up I got. We had attracted some of the attention of the bar patrons but right now I was too angry to care. "You want to come at me for leaving your son but you abandoned him the moment you could! He was just a baby and you left him! You decided that he was worthy to be in your life after he saved the world. You didn't see his worth until after everything. I saw it the moment I met him. You don't know a thing about either of us so don't you come in attacking me, when you're just as guilty."

The fire burning in her eyes looked like it could incinerate this whole building. Her knuckles were turning white from how tightly she gripped the counter. "You will never be good enough for my son!"

Her words instantly brought up my insecurities. "You don't think I don't know that already?" the anger in my tone fading slightly, my insecurities clouding my mind. "I know that I will never be good enough for you son but I am going to try every day for the rest of my life to make up for my mistakes and be the best I can be for him. He loves me for who I am," I paused gauging her reaction. The fire in her eyes reignited the fire inside of me. "Regardless of what you think, what anyone thinks, I am going to marry your son and we are going to be happy!"

The bitterness in my tone seemed to be the last straw for her. Next thing that I knew I was one the ground, my cheek burning. There was a commotion going on all around me but I couldn't focus on anything. There was a hand on my shoulder, concerned eyes gazing at me. "Come on child, why don't you go upstairs?" Hermes helped me stand and make my way to the stairs.

He quickly turned and made his way back to the commotion. There was lots of yelling and it was driving my head nuts. Carefully I drug myself up the stairs, my stinging cheek making it hard to think. When I finally reached the apartment, I collapsed on the bed tears coming to my eyes.

I know this feeling, Calliope had hit me. The mother of my future husband had hit me because I loved her son. She brought to light the insecurities that I was never going to be good enough for him. Maybe I shouldn't marry him...was I ever really going to be good enough to deserve him?

I hadn't registered anyone was here in the apartment until I was pulled flat against a chest. The feeling of being wrapped in his arms caused the tears to come stronger. He whispered soothing words into my ear, rubbing circles on my hips. He was comforting me without asking me any questions.

I pushed myself to sit up, my back still facing him. My hand came to cradle my swollen cheek; I didn't want him to see it. The shifting of his weight indicated that he was sitting up as well. I brought my knees to my chin, curling up in a ball. "Eurydice?" his tone was soft as if not to disturb me. Still, I refused to turn around or answer him. "Love please talk to me. I don't know how to help if you don't talk to me," he sounded broken.

The thought that I was hurting my poet caused me to finally answer him, "It's nothing you need to worry about love." His sigh let me know that he didn't believe me.

He wrapped me up into his arms, "If everything was okay why did I walk in on you sobbing on the bed? Why did Hermes tell me that you needed me as soon as I walked in the door?" His lips connected with my forehead calming me slightly.

Hermes talked to him? Oh, does he know everything? "I just got into a fight with a customer and it really got to my head," I tried to sound dismissive as not to draw more attention. "I'm just being overdramatic I promise," this time I turned slightly to look at him.

The concern in his hazel eyes was comforting. I leaned up capturing his lips, my attempt to comfort him. I had gotten so consumed in the kiss that I forgot about my tender cheek. When he reached up to cup my face I pulled back instantly, the pain shocking me. His eyes widened immediately, pulling away the hand that was covering the cheek. "They hit you!"

Quickly I pushed myself off the bed, away from the concerned poet. I wasn't able to make it that far before I was pulled back into his chest. He forced chin up to look into his angry/concerned eyes, the look in eyes was frightening. The look he was giving my swollen cheek made it look like he was about to murder whoever hurt me. My hand came up to rest on his cheek, my thumb rubbing back and forth in an attempt to calm him.

He closed his eyes taking a few deep breaths. When his eyes finally reopened the fire inside of them quelled but the concern still bright. "Rydice please tell me what happened," his voice cracked slightly at the end.

The longer I would put off answering him would only hurt him worse but I also didn't want to tell him the full truth. "As I said I got in an argument with a customer and it elevated enough to where they slapped me," I tried to keep my voice calm to help quell his nerves as well as my own.

He sighed, pulling me back to sit on the bed. His head came to rest on top of mine, his large hand stroking my back. "This doesn't make sense...the whole town loves you. Who would hit you?" He was starting to dig, this can be dangerous.

"Orpheus please just drop it," my tone was pleading. I really didn't want him to find out it was his mother who hit me. He stiffened up when I begged him to stop, I know he's going to dig until he finds out the truth. His eyes connected with mine, slightly narrowing. "Orpheus please she is going to hate me even more," my voice was starting to shake.

"Who was it Eurydice? Sofia?" I just shook my head afraid for him to hear the truth. "Tell me," his grip on me tightened slightly, the fire returning to his eyes.

I couldn't control the tears that fell from my eyes, the waterworks quelling the fire in his eyes again. "I'm so sorry love," my voice cracked. "You have to promise me you won't do anything rash," even though his jaw was clenched he shook his head. "It was your mother."

#hadestown #hadestown broadway #hadestown fanfic #hadestown fanfiction #hadestown fic #orpheus #eurydice #orphydice #orpheus and eurydice #hades #hermes #persephone #promises

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snowfall-fanfictions · 4 years

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Beware the Frozen Heart Ch. 7- The Princess

Ao3 link

FF.net link

Eryn tries a different approach to Elsa’s assassination.

One last chapter before the year ends. Happy New Year!

“Your Majesty, is everything alright?”

Kai’s question caused Elsa to quickly shoot up in her chair. Everyone in the room was staring at her: her financial advisor, her military advisor, Kai, even Anna and Olaf looked on in concern. The young queen quickly recomposed herself as she rearranged the loose pieces of parchment on her desk.

“Of course,” Elsa said in a dignified tone, “Now, uh, where were we?”

“We were actually just about to wrap up our meeting for the day,” Kai announced, “Unless there was something you wished to discuss further?”

“I think we’ve covered everything for today.”

“Very well, your majesty.” With that, the advisors began shuffling out of Elsa’s office one by one, chatting with each other in indiscernible tones. As the last person left the room, Elsa began reorganizing her desk, placing the large amount of papers in somewhat neat stacks. When she looked up again, she saw Anna and Olaf in front of her desk, a worried expression overtaking their faces.

“Elsa are you sure everything’s alright?” The redhead asked, “You seem out of it today.”

“I’m fine, Anna,” Elsa replied slightly annoyed, “What makes you think something’s wrong?”

“You kinda looked distracted during the meeting today. I understand that this job is stressful and you have ,like, a bajillion things on your mind, but that’s why you have me and Olaf to help and-”

“Anna, it’s fine! Really.”

“It didn’t look fine to me,” Olaf butted in, “It’s funny, you kinda had that look on your face when Anna thinks about Kristoff and you started to pay attention more whenever Derrik’s name was mentioned and-” the snowman let out a loud gasp, “I THINK I KNOW WHAT IT IS!” Olaf lifted his head up to Anna’s ear and began whispering something indecipherable towards the princess. Anna’s face lit up like a candle as the snowman continued talking.

“Ohhhh,” Anna said after Olaf finished talking, “Is that what’s going on?” Elsa cocked an eyebrow at her sister and Olaf. “What? What’s going on?”

“Are you and Derrik… ya know?”

“Are me and Derrik wha-?” Elsa’s face turned a deep red. “Oh. Uh- well- d-don’t be ridiculous!”

“How romantic!” Anna declared as she overdramatically swooned, “Falling in love with the mysterious stranger that saved your life, fantasizing about being swept away in his muscular arms, imagining the feeling of his lips pressed against y-“

“Anna, it’s not like that! Our relationship is strictly professional!” “Looked a little more than ‘professional’ in the tailor shop the other day.” “He just tripped, that’s all. Besides, I’m really not interested.” Elsa then returned to reorganizing her desk.

“Very well…” Anna grunted as she turned around. A devilish idea came to her. “Oh, hey Derrik!”

“HUH, WHA-?” Elsa exclaimed as she jumped in her chair.

Anna turned around and cocked an eyebrow at her sister, giggling. “‘Not interested’ huh?”

The queen’s face turned bright red. “T-that doesn’t prove anything.” Elsa quickly broke eye contact with Anna as she focused on Olaf, who was currently sliding around the room like a figure skater. Looking down, she noticed that the floor was covered in a thin layer of ice. The redness in her face deepened.

“Elsa-woah!” Anna quickly raced around Elsa’s desk, cautious as to not slip on the newly formed ice as she embraced her sister. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of! I’m really happy for you!”

“It’s not like that at all, Anna,” Elsa murmured, “I don’t have time to think about stuff like that…”

“Well when you do,” Anna said with a slight pout, “Don’t be afraid to talk to me about it.” Elsa gave a faint smile as she embraced the princess. “I appreciate the support,” she laughed.

“You’ll always have me,” Anna released Elsa from her arms, “Now, how about we go down to the market and get some fresh air?”

Elsa let out a sigh. “I can’t, I’ve got one last meeting today in a few minutes.”

“Oh, that’s ok, I can just wai-”

“No, no. You don’t have to wait for me.”

“Are you sure? Because I don’t mind waiting.” “Positive. Though, if you can get me some smoked salmon I’d appreciate it.”

“Sure thing C’mon Olaf!” Anna slid carefully towards the door. With a flick of her hand, Elsa dissolved the ice covering the floor.

“Oh, and make sure to take Derrik with you! We can’t be too careful.”

The snowman and the princess exchanged looks. “We will!” the two said in unison as they shut the door.

As soon as the door was shut, Elsa slammed her head on her desk. So what if she was thinking about Derrik during the meeting? It’s not her fault that he was so kind and charming and- Elsa watched as snowflakes fell from the ceiling. Elsa groaned. It was official: She had feelings for Derrik. The idea of romance frightened the young queen, partially because it seemed like a waste of time, and partially because she never really felt worthy of love. Ever since the Great Freeze two years ago, her paranoia surrounding her powers only spiked. Now that she had Anna back in her life and the people loved her, things were better, but she wasn’t sure how romantic feelings would affect her. At the same time, seeing how happy Anna and Kristoff were together made her long for love like that. She shook the idea from her head. Her duty was to Arendelle first and foremost, especially nowadays.

Anything else had to either come later or never at all.

XXXXXX

Eyrn furiously scribbled onto the piece of parchment. Over the past few days, he had been making careful observations of the castle’s inner workings; every guard patrol, every hallway, and every hypothetical escape route. His contacts were steadily supplying him with the necessary equipment to pull it all off. All of the pieces were finally coming together for the greatest assassination in history. The fame, the prestige, all of it was soon to be his. All he needed was a few more things and-

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

“GODDAMMIT!” Eryn blurted as he hurried to hide the damning schematic. He couldn’t afford to be discovered now, not when he was so close! He lifted his mattress and shoved the parchment underneath. Eryn then rushed over to the door and flung it open. On the other side was the princess and the snowman, both beaming at him.

“Good afternoon, your highness and ,uh, Olaf,” Eryn said as he bowed, trying not to sound annoyed.

“Oh, you can just call me Anna,” the princess said, “Elsa wanted me to bring you along while we go down to the market.”

“And I get to come along, too!” The snowman butted in.

Eryn smirked at their replies. Perfect he thought. “As you wish your hi- I mean, Anna.”

“LAST ONE TO THE MARKET EATS YELLOW SNOW!” Olaf shouted as he bolted down the hall. Anna quickly dashed after him as Eryn followed suit.

“For fuck’s sake!” he growled.

XXXXXX

If there was one thing that Eryn hated more than anything it was crowds. The noise, the confusion, the multiple pairs of eyes, it all screamed hell to him. Now that he was with the princess of Arendelle, almost all of those eyes were on him. At the moment, Anna and Olaf were perusing one of the fishmongers’ stalls while he leaned against one of the support beams of the overhang. His contempt for people grew as each person passed by the princess, congratulating her on her upcoming marriage, asking her how the queen was, et cetera. It amazed him how one woman could be such a social butterfly. As he was alone with his thoughts, the dagger decided to interrupt.

We should make our move now, go see what you can find out from the princess.

I will… once she’s away from the stall.

Don’t tell me the ‘legendary’ Eryn Odrikson is afraid of people.

It’s more of the fact that people can and will eavesdrop on our conversation.

I will use the shadows to secure your conversation, just hurry and get the information we need.

Very well…

Eryn turned his gaze over to the fishmonger’s stall, where Anna was currently paying for a pound of smoked salmon. “Thanks again, Bjӧrn!” she chirped. Eryn sauntered over to her as she turned around.

“Where to next, Anna?” Eryn asked.

“This way! Come on, Olaf!” The princess then kept a steady (and, thankfully for Eryn, slow) pace. Eryn could feel the blade’s magic encase them as the world around them began to sound fuzzy.

“Ssooo, Anna,” Eryn began, “The queen has been talking about your upcoming marriage quite often. How is that going?”

Eryn soon realized how much of a mistake that was. Anna spent the next half hour gushing about how her fiance, Kristoff or something, was amazing, her first engagement that didn’t go so well, and every minute detail that they had planned out for the ceremony. Eryn had begun to check out of the princess’s long and drawn out story when she said, “I mean I appreciate Elsa’s help in this, but with her duties as queen and now I found out she has a crush on y- oop! Probably shouldn’t say that…”

Eryn perked up at the princess’s slip of the tongue. “The queen has fallen for someone?” He asked.

“Uhhhh, maybe? She’s… a little defensive about it…”

“Why can’t we say she likes Derrik?” Olaf asked absentmindedly.

“Olaf!” the princess scolded. Eryn’s eyes grew wide and felt his face heat up and his heart beat faster.

“O-Oh,” he stammered, “I, uh, don’t know what to say…”

“Does that mean you like her too?” Olaf asked.

“Uhhhh… ” “Olaf, don’t put people on the spot like that!” Anna said, “Now c’mon, we need to get back to the castle, it’s getting late.”

The three of them made the trek back to the castle without another word.

Later That Evening...

HAHAHAHAHA! This is perfect!

Eryn was busy cleaning his fresh wound on his hand as he discussed the potent information with the dagger.

You’re telling me! I should take up gambling with all this luck I’ve got!

If this goes well, you could just own a casino with all the money you’ll have!

Regardless, what should the next move be?

Gauge how valid the princess’s claims are. If the queen is truly in love with you, it will make our job even easier.

How so?

Love is an easy emotion to exploit. It causes fools to drop their guard and become predictable. It is when she is at her most vulnerable that we will strike. Hmmm… I sense that something about this feels… wrong to you…

I have no idea what you’re talking about.

Your thoughts… is that remorse I sense?

Of course not!

Don’t let your human thoughts get in the way of this, Odrikson…

You worry too much! It’ll be fine!

#frozen fanfiction #disney frozen #OC #queen elsa #princess anna #olaf #kristoff #Eryn Odrikson #blood tw #gore tw #mature #duke of weselton #hans #fanfiction #assassination

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go-diane-winchester · 5 years

Text

Why many Misha fans want haters and non fans to kill themselves.

I was scratching my head for awhile wondering why Misha's fans behave the way they do. Now I think I might be starting to get a partial clue about that. He is like a cult leader, because unlike Jensen and Jared who just want to be known for the work that they get paid to do, Misha has more time on his hands and uses it to constantly stay in contact with his fans so that their attention is never diverted from him. I found a Psychology Today article that made me smirk. The article is written in the context of a dangerous cult leader but Misha is not that. He doesn't use aggression. He uses sympathy. He puts him in victim mode so that his fans will feel the need to protect him. Remember that mockumentary that made his fans feel sorry for him?

He has also put himself in the position of an authority figure who has an opinion about charity, the LGBT, slash fiction, feminism and politics amongst other things. He rarely speaks about the canon aspects of his character and the canon of Supernatural. And yet he was a director. His sub group of fans, especially destiel fans, would not have gotten any attention from him, had he been a normal, agenda free individual. Because he does something as unusual as giving slash fans attention, they latch onto him because they are not going to get that attention elsewhere. Hellers and minions identify with Misha because he presumably cut himself on the thigh as a ''fat'' child. I have seen some of his childhood pictures. He was not fat. Quite a cutie actually. Cutters will therefore identify with him even though, he has told many lies about his childhood.

These are some of the traits that Psychology Today listed. I had to remove some that fit a dangerous cult leader more than the sympathy junkie that Misha is. There are some that don't have additional information in bold, because although they feel like Misha traits, I don't have a pinpoint example. Or there are too many examples. If you wish to contribute to the updating of this list, please let me know.

He has a grandiose idea of who he is and what he can achieve. [He refers to himself as an Overlord]

Is preoccupied with fantasies of unlimited success, power, or brilliance. [Used Gish to break Guinness World records]

Demands blind unquestioned obedience. [calls his fans minions. A minion are a servile or unimportant follower or underling of a powerful person]

Requires excessive admiration from followers and outsiders. [Expected fiction authors to write stories about him for free]

Has a sense of entitlement - expecting to be treated special at all times. [wanted to be in the TVGuide graphic despite having no right to be on it]

Is arrogant and haughty in his behavior or attitude.

Has an exaggerated sense of power (entitlement) that allows him to bend rules and break laws. [wants NASA to do Gish related things for him in outerspace. Admitted to stealing passes from the White house]

Takes sexual advantage of members of his sect or cult. [pandering destiel, and asking Gish participants to do half naked challenges despite knowing that there might be underage participants]

Is hypersensitive to how he is seen or perceived by others. [During the Giving Back Tour, a con headed by him only and not J2, he pitched up only on the Sunday, the way that the leads do for their cons, perhaps to be percieved as a lead himself. They have a valid reason. They are working till the last minute. He had no reason to not be present from Friday evening. He wants to be like J2. That con flopped. - thanks for reader inputs because I didn't know this.]

Publicly devalues others as being inferior, incapable, or not worthy. [calls destiel shippers perverts]

Makes members confess their sins or faults publicly subjecting them to ridicule or humiliation while revealing exploitable weaknesses of the penitent. [pointed out the lap dancer, while she was asking a question and showed the butt plug for no reason even though he could have reported the lapdancer and refused the butt plug]

Has ignored the needs of others, including: biological, physical, emotional, and financial needs. [no support for J2 during the Nolacon scandal, or for Jared during various heller attacks, but spoke up for Danneel because it secures heller sexual fantasies - I have an inkling that HatersOfDanneel might be minions which is why he stopped them, to show her how supportive he is. Who knows, maybe he set up to do this, so he could rescue her.]

Is frequently boastful of accomplishments. [the receipts can fill a book]

Needs to be the center of attention and does things to distract others to insure that he or she is being noticed by arriving late, using exotic clothing, overdramatic speech, or by making theatrical entrances. [like the chair gag at Comic Con which garnered sympathy from fans, and constantly drawing lewd attention to himself during panels where he is with others. He didn't like sharing a panel with Sebastian Roche, because Sebastian can out-crass him, and is obligated to sit through a Jared panel because Jared can also be provocative if he so wishes, but enjoys being in a panel with the sexually restrained Jensen, perhaps because it puts him in a powerful position. And he seldom just steps on stage. He must say or do something first: like an accent or something similar. Once he wore a severely torn T shirt under his jacket and made sure he showed everyone on stage. The man cant afford a T shirt?]

Doesn’t seem to listen well to needs of others, communication is usually one-way in the form of dictates. [called Jensen a motherf*cker, for speaking unfavorably about his scenes with Cas being decreased]

Haughtiness, grandiosity, and the need to be controlling is part of his personality. [constantly waving rules set by the CW and CE, for example telling people about the ''I love you'' line, even though he was told not to. He doesn't follow the rules that others are humble enough to follow.]

Behaves as though people are objects to be used, manipulated or exploited for personal gain. [asked Dean and Cas cosplayers to make out for his leery pleasure]

When criticized, he tends to lash out not just with anger but with rage. [there is a gif somewhere of him telling a critical con guest: I don't appreciate your tone when she told him he was queer baiting.] [Edit: A wonderful fan sent me the pictures - Thanks]

Anyone who criticizes or questions him, is called an “enemy''. [calls non-minions haters]

Acts imperious at times, not wishing to know what others think or desire. [smashed a Boba Fett cake in Jared's face, without notifying him that the cake was from a fan and was painstakingly made for Jared's birthday. The cake was inedible after that, and Jared profusely apologized to the fan. How hurt she must have been. Misha took the cake on stage, when he had no business to - Edit: thanks to an awesome reader for this input. I forgot about it, even though it had ticked me off when I learned the truth]

Is superficially charming. [Sometimes he cant even muster up a smile at his photo op, unless it is a Cockles one. He cant even pretend to like his fans]

Habitually puts down others as inferior and only he is superior. [again minion and pervert. Jokes that Jensen and Jared got their jobs on the basis of their looks.]

Has a certain coldness or aloofness about him that makes others worry about who this person really is and or whether they really know him. [when he hugged JDM, fans in the background cheered, and Misha looked at them, shook his head in a fed up, irritated manner before focusing at JDM]

Is deeply offended when there are perceived signs of boredom, being ignored or of being slighted. [told off a fan who said she wasn't supposed to be attending his panel. She was supposed to be asleep. She was called because her name ended up on the question line up. He was so angry, he didn't let her speak. That transcript is difficult to read.]

Treats others with contempt and arrogance.

Is constantly assessing for those who are a threat or those who revere him. [SPN Anti-Bullying Twitter is the most communist thing I have ever seen. It only seeks out Misha critics and does away with them. Its like communism, fandom style. Misha is in close contact with Emily Cleghorn who runs this page and participates in Gishwhes.]

The word “I” dominates his conversations. He is oblivious to how often he references himself. [With Misha it might be the opposite. He tries to project a kicked puppy personality. Watch his body language carefully]

Hates to be embarrassed or fail publicly - when he does he acts out with rage. [Just drink your effen water and get off the stage - could be a joke, or could be something else. Its was said to Jensen who laughed about it, but you never know how he perceived this outburst.]

Doesn’t seem to feel guilty for anything he has done wrong nor does he apologize for his actions. [Didn't apologize for slavery or roofie joke]

Believes he possesses the answers and solutions to world problems. [Gishwhes is more about his ego, wasting food and stripping down to nothing, for his enjoyment more than anything else. But he thinks it will solve problems. Other than creating a spectacle, and reaching the attention of Larry King, it doesn't seem to do any good because what good could the Record breaking largest number of people dressed as French maids do to better the world. And he waste food, whilst taking part in a marathon to end child hunger. He doesn't realize how hypocritical that is]

Believes himself to be a deity or a chosen representative of a deity. [Haha, I don't know if bragging about being accused of being the anti-Christ counts, because what decent person brags about that. Just added it here, as a laugh.]

Rigid, unbending, or insensitive describes how this person thinks. [Made Jensen tell the story, during their Jib panel, that made Jensen break down earlier - bashed the Bible]

Tries to control others in what they do, read, view, or think.

Seems to be highly dependent of tribute and adoration and will often fish for compliments. [wanted fiction writers to write a story about him for free - this is worth a second mention because of how arrogant it is]

Uses enforcers or sycophants to insure compliance from members or believers. [Has journalists in media outlets like Geekiary, Hypable and possibly others doing his bidding, including attacking the leads on social media, for saying something contradictory to what Misha is saying. Natalie Fisher of Hypable is more notable for doing this.]

Sees self as “unstoppable” perhaps has even said so. [With regards to Misha, he might say it about Random Acts or Gish because he want to project being 'humble'.]

Conceals background or family which would disclose how plain or ordinary he is. [Lied about being poor to garner sympathy - lied about only receiving elite education, because he has never been to public school, and says he lived on his friend, Darius's handouts, including meals, which makes me wonder how trust worthy Misha's friend is. Because don't elite private schools provide meals and uniforms - lied about being mugged]

A gazillion thank yous to my awesome friend, whom I will now refer to as Sam the researcher, because this is the second obscure piece of evidence that she found for me. I have been looking for it, for too long, fruitlessly. Also thanks for the second and third ones.

@iamacynic seems to think non-Misha fans were born without the faculty of thinking. So this person accused me of being non-empathetic to the fact that Misha was poor and living in a tent. Do you think nobody knows that? When Misha first told the story of being poor and having a druggie for a mother, he got a lot of sympathy, which is why over the years, the story has become more and more elaborate. The Overlord had found his niche. Misha was poor from birth till age 3. Mom married a guy who was loaded and who took over responsibility of Misha and his brother. From 4 till now, Misha has been a rich man. The elite private schools Misha attended cost more than $50 000 per annum. Misha attended Greenfield Centre and then Northfield Mount Herman. He has never attended a public school. And Misha doesn't remember any of that? All he remembers is the first 3 years of his life? Realistically, person will only remember a smidgen of the third year of his life. Unless someone out there remember age one. Raise your hands. Tell us about your extraordinary memory.

https://www.psychologytoday.com/intl/blog/spycatcher/201208/dangerous-cult-leaders

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the-girl-in-the-band-tshirt · 5 years

Text

Captain Swan Secret Santa 2018

Hello, hello, @downeystarkjr! It is I, your Captain Swan secret Santa New Year’s baby! And with that, let me apologize profusely for how late this is. *facepalm*

I tried so hard to plot out a story based on what you said you wanted to see, but having no exposure to Zorro (*hides*), that was tough. And I just generally couldn’t come up with something to match your wishes that would satisfy. But then - BUT THEN you mentioned one of your favorite movies is 10 Things I Hate About You, and it just so happens that’s one of my all-time favorite movies AND I’ve been dying to write Captain Swan into that movie for a while now. So I started writing. And I kept writing. And I wrote some more. And this @cssecretsanta2k18 fic got much longer than I planned it to be. Oh, and there are a few details in there catered to you, and I hope those make you smile. :)

So it’s been drafted for a bit now, but the editing process is proving slower. My beta is my lovely friend @ohmakemeahercules, who I have to thank here because, dang, she’s put up with a lot from me. And she’s fabulous! And this fic would absolutely not be near as readable as it is now without her (and it’s not even done being edited yet - she’s that amazing!). And we will continue working on this thing to give you the best gift it can be. However, I didn’t want you to have to wait any longer, so here’s a partially edited story for you! When it is fully edited, I’ll make another post on here, and I’ll also post it to ao3 at that point. Until then, I hope I can keep talking to you! You and I, apparently, have a lot in common, and I’d love to get to know you better!

I hope you’re not too disappointed it’s not exactly what you asked for. Here goes...

“What did everyone think of The Sun Also Rises?” Mr. Pendragon crossed his arms and leaned against the chalkboard as he scanned his classroom for any sign of intellectual thought.

“I loved it. It was so romantic.” That was Ashley, a sweet girl who worked two jobs after school to help her family make ends meet. But she treated Hemingway like a fairytale.

“Romantic?” Scoffed Emma Swan, the opinionated and sarcastic girl seated in the back row. Mr. Pendragon squeezed his eyes shut, already feeling a headache blooming. “Hemingway was an abusive alcoholic misogynist who squandered half his life hanging around Picasso trying to nail his leftovers.”

Nearly every student in the room rolled their eyes at her.

“As opposed to a bitter, self-righteous bitch who has no friends?” Mr. Pendragon rolled his eyes this time as Neal Gold, the rich kid bully, chimed in.

“Pipe down, Gold,” the teacher stepped in.

Emma Swan fumed at Neal from her seat before turning back to face the front of the room. “I guess in this society being male and an asshole makes you worthy of our time. What about Sylvia Plath or Charlotte Bronte or Simone de Beauvoir?”

Suddenly, everyone in the class jerked their heads toward the door as Killian Jones walked in, leather jacket despite the warm temperature outside, no books, and late as usual. He scratched behind his ear as he looked around the classroom.

“What did I miss?” He asked in a British accent.

Before anyone else could answer, Emma spoke up. “Just the oppressive patriarchal values that dictate our education.”

Killian nodded, muttering a, “good,” before leaving the room. Mr. Pendragon tried to call after him, but it was no use.

Turning back to the class, Mr. Pendragon addressed Emma. “Ms. Swan, I want to thank you for your point of view.” He paused as Emma sent a smirk Neal’s way. Just when she felt validated, he added, “I know how difficult it must be for you to overcome all those years of upper middle-class suburban oppression. It must be tough.” At that, Emma slumped back into her seat, a scowl returning to her face.

“Anything else?”

“Yeah,” Mr. Pendragon headed to the front of the classroom. “Go to the office. I don’t need to deal with this right now.”

“Mr. Pendragon! What?!”

“You heard me.”

Emma huffed out a breath as she left the room, but not before knocking Neal on the side of his head to stop his snickering.

“Emma Blanchard,” Ms. Perky, the guidance counselor, addressed the student walking into her office, “why am I not surprised to see you again?”

“It's Swan. Emma Swan. I'm adopted.” She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes, bored with the routine. Ms. Perky made a disapproving noise and proceeded to type on her computer, not even looking Emma's way.

“Your father is a Blanchard. Your sister is a Blanchard. It says ‘Blanchard’ on the roster and in the system,” Ms. Perky reminded Emma.

“And I'm a Swan.”

Ms. Perky paused, grinning to herself as she glanced between her mug and Emma, who raised her eyebrows waiting for an explanation. “Swan,” she pointed to her swan-printed mug. “Swan,” she pointed at Emma while laughing out loud. Emma nodded overdramatically as she waited for the guidance counselor to get down to business. “So I hear you were terrorizing Mr. Pendragon’s class again.”

“Expressing my opinion is not a terrorist action.”

“The point is people see you as somewhat-”

“Tempestuous?”

“‘Heinous bitch’ is the term used most often. “You might want to work on that.”

Emma’s lips slightly upturned. She was almost seemed impressed with herself, despite the unflattering connotation.

Ms. Perky went back to typing as Emma waited for her dismissal. The counselor sighed and lowered her glasses before a tired “thank you” was uttered.”

Emma grabbed her backpack from the floor. She faced Ms. Perky and said, with extreme sarcasm, “as always, thank you for your excellent guidance.” She exited the room without another word.

That afternoon, Emma and her best friend, Lily, waited in Emma’s car for her younger sister, Mary Margaret. However, Mary Margaret was more interested in catching the eye of Neal Gold, the most popular guy in senior year. She and her best friend, Tamara, walked by him for the fourth time that afternoon trying to get noticed. Fourth time was the charm, as Neal called out, “looking good, ladies.” Tamara sent Neal a predatory grin before leading Mary Margaret away from the boy before she started giggling and making a fool of herself in front of him.

“They’re out of reach, even for you, Gold.” Felix, another senior, said.

Neal glared at his friend. “No one’s out of reach for me.”

“You want to put money on that?”

Neal shook his head, still watching the girls walk away. “Money I’ve got. This I’m going to do for fun.”

Meanwhile, Neal wasn’t the only guy with his eye on Mary Margaret.

“Who’s that guy?” David Nolan, a new kid to Storybrooke High, asked his tour guide, August Booth.

“Neal Gold. He’s rich. He’s a model. And he’s a moron.”

“A model?” To be honest, Neal didn’t strike David as a model.

“Eh,” August shrugged. “Mostly regional stuff. But he’s rumored to have a tube sock ad coming out.”

David gave August a look that screamed, “really?,” to which August just nodded. They both laughed.

“Man, just look at her. Is she always so-”

“Clueless? Airheaded? Into herself?” In truth, August didn’t really know Mary Margaret well, but she was easily the most popular girl in the school.

“Don’t say that about her. There’s more to her than you think. I mean, look at the way she smiles. And look at her eyes, man. She’s totally pure. You’re missing what’s there.”

“No, David. What’s there is a bratty little princess wearing a strategically planned sundress to make guys like us realize we can never touch her, and guys like Neal realize they want to. We will spend the rest of our lives not being able to have girls like her. Just move on, dude.”

David crossed his arms and took a step back from August. “No. You’re wrong about her.”

August put his hands up in surrender. “Fine. I’m wrong. You want to take a shot? Be my guest. She’s actually looking for a French tutor.”

David’s entire face lit up. “Seriously? That’s perfect!”

“Do you speak French?”

“No.” He stared dreamily at Mary Margaret, who was waving goodbye to her friend. “But I will.”

On her way to her sister’s car, Mary Margaret was stopped in her tracks by Neal Gold pulling up in his convertible.

“Hey. Would you and your friend like a ride?”

Mary Margaret barely waited to breathe before she called out to Tamara, who ran over and got in Neal’s car right behind her friend.

Emma and Lily, who had watched the drama unfold, rolled their eyes simultaneously.

“That’s a charming new development,” Lily said sarcastically.

Scrunching her face in disgust, Emma added, “it’s pathetic.” She buckled her seatbelt and prepared to drive just the two of them. Right when she was about to back out, Emma had to slam the breaks because of a stalled motorcycle directly behind her car. “Hey,” she yelled, “remove head from ass, then drive!”

The motorcyclist scooted away sans motor so Emma could pull out. She flipped him off and sped out of the parking lot.

David Nolan came running up to the rider - August. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Just a minor encounter with the shrew, your girlfriend’s sister.”

“That’s Mary Margaret’s sister?” David was in a state of disbelief.

August nodded, “adopted.” With that, he once again got his motorcycle working. Sending David a knowing smile, he put on his helmet and rode off.

Emma was happily lying on the living room couch reading a book when her adoptive father arrived home.

“Hello, Emma. Make anyone cry today?”

“Sadly, no, but it’s only 4:30.”

Leo Blanchard’s smile only grew as Mary Margaret came inside and greeted her father.

“Hi, Daddy.” She kissed his cheek and moved Emma’s feet so she could sit on the couch.

“Hello, precious.”

“And where have you been?” Emma bookmarked her page and closed the book, expecting some amusement as her father learns that her sister was in a car with Neal Gold.

“Nowhere.” She gave Emma a pleading look.

Emma promptly ignored her sister. “Ask Mary Margaret who drove her home.”

Leo waited for an answer from his biological daughter.

“Now, don’t get upset, but there’s this boy.” Mary Margaret couldn’t help grinning at the thought of a boy liking her.

“Who’s a flaming imbecile,” Emma chimed in.

“And I think he might ask me-”

“Please. I think I know what he’s going to ask you. And I think I know the answer: No. 1, it’s always no. What are the house rules? No. 1, no dating till you graduate. No. 2, no dating till you graduate. That’s it.”

“That’s so unfair! I’m the only girl in school who’s not dating.” She put on the puppy-dog face.

“No, you’re not. Your sister doesn’t date.”

Emma smiled proudly. “And I don’t intend to.”

“And why is that again?” Leo turned to his adopted daughter, beaming smile on his face.

“Have you seen the unwashed miscreants that go to that school?” Emma could actually see the moment a new idea sparked in her father’s brain.

“Okay. You’re unhappy with the old rule - fine. Old rule out. New rule in: Mary Margaret can date-” Mary Margaret squealed with delight; Emma gasped at the unfairness. Leo pointed at Emma, “-when she does.”

“So I was thinking.” David Nolan sat across from Mary Margaret Blanchard at a library table.

“Yeah?”

“Well, there’s no better way to learn a language than by doing, right?” She looked confused. “What about French food? We could eat some, you know, together? Saturday night?”

“That’s so cute! You’re asking me out.” Mary Margaret’s voice got dangerously high-pitched before her delight switched to disappointment.

David watched her emotions play out on her face. “Oh, I mean, I know your dad doesn’t let you date, but I thought maybe if it was for French class-”

“Oh, wait a minute!” She was smiling again. “My dad just came up with a new rule. I can date if my sister does.”

David’s face lit up.

“Don’t get too excited, David. My sister is pretty much incapable of human interaction nowadays.”

“Well, I’m sure that there are lots of guys who wouldn’t mind going out with a difficult woman,” he sounded unsure, but he was determined.

“You really think you could find someone extreme enough to date her?”

“Yeah. Why not?”

Mary Margaret reached out and touched David’s arm. “You’d do that for me?”

“Absolutely.”

After a long and fruitless search - apparently Emma Swan’s reputation precedes her - David knew he had the right guy in biology as he watched Killian Jones hack away at his dissection frog rather than delicately cut it.

“Hey, what about him?” David whispered to August, pointing at Killian.

“No, no. Don’t look at him, okay? He's a criminal.” August slapped David’s arm down from pointing at Killian and avoided even glancing in that direction.

David watched as Killian took out a cigarette from his leather jacket pocket and lit it using his Bunsen burner. He almost got around to smoking it, but his lab partner grabbed it and put it out. Obviously frustrated, he rested his head on one of his arms that was on the lab table and brooded. Abandoning the assignment altogether, he passed his right hand through the Bunsen burner’s flame on and off. As David continued to watch Killian, he knew had found the perfect guy for Emma.

“How do we get him to date Emma?” August looked at his friend, who was staring at Killian Jones from across the cafeteria. He didn’t think dealing with Killian Jones was a great idea, but David was convinced.

“I don’t know. We could pay him, except that we don’t have any money.” David slumped in his seat, deflated at the idea of not being able to take Mary Margaret out.

“Yeah. Well, what we need is a backer.” David sat up a little straighter. “You know, someone with money who’s stupid.” David followed August’s gaze to the popular table, where Neal Gold was laughing obnoxiously loudly with his posse. August turned to David, nodding. “I got this.” With that, August walked over to Neal’s table and took an empty chair, pretending to laugh to blend in.

“Are you lost?” Neal asked August.

“I just came by to chat,” August said confidently. David couldn’t believe August wanted to work with the competition.

“We don’t chat.”

“Actually, I thought that I'd run an idea by you, just to see if you're interested.”

Neal interrupted, “I’m not.”

“You want Mary Margaret, right?” Now August had Neal’s attention. “She can't go out with you because her sister is a heinous bitch who growls if you stare too long. What I think you need to do is hire someone who doesn’t scare so easily, tame the beast, so to speak.” August turned his attention to Killian, expecting Neal to follow. He did. “Seems like a solid investment, right?”

Neal narrowed his eyes. “What’s in it for you?”

“Hey. I’m walking down the hall and say hello to you, you say hello to me. Or at least maybe you don’t treat me and my friend like crap all the time.”

“Alright. I get it.” August nodded, and Neal nodded in return - an agreement - before telling August to leave. “We’re done now.” August got up and returned to his seat next to David.

“What are you doing getting him involved?”

“Relax. We’ll let him think he’s calling the shots, but you’ll be the one spending time with Mary Margaret while he sets everything up.”

“Okay. That’s not a bad idea, actually.” David was so ready to take out the girl of his dreams.

Killian Jones sat with his friend Will Scarlet. They were smoking on the bench on the sideline of the soccer field. Killian steeled his features, abruptly ceasing his laughter over something Will had said, as none other than Neal Gold approached the bench. Killian said nothing, hoping Neal would get bored and leave. No such luck.

“Hey. How ya doing?”

Killian put his cigarette between his teeth. “Can I help you?”

“See that girl?” Neal was pointing at one of the girls playing soccer, her long blond hair pulled up in a ponytail as she fought one of the other players for the ball.

He took the cigarette from his mouth. “I see her.” He kept watching her, somehow compelled not to look away.

“That’s Emma Swan. I want you to go out with her.” Neal was grinning smugly when Killian turned his attention back to him.

“Yeah, sure, Sparky.” Killian looked at Will and the two laughed. Killian returned the cigarette to his mouth for a moment before removing it and throwing it down on the ground in front of him.

“Look; I can’t take out her sister until Emma starts dating. You see, their dad’s insane. He’s got this rule where the girls-”

Killian put a hand up, stopping Neal’s jabbering. “That’s a touching story. It really is. Also not my problem.”

“Would you be willing to make it your problem if I provide generous compensation?” Neal waggled his eyebrows, still grinning.

Killian narrowed his eyes just barely. “You’re going to pay me to take out some lass?” Neal’s grin grew as he gave Killian a single nod. “How much?” Killian could use the money, and there are worse ways to earn money than spending a night with a pretty girl.

“Twenty bucks.”

The three guys turned their attention back to the field to watch Emma. Killian crossed his arms and turned back to Neal after she violently body checked another player.

Neal sighed. “Fine. Thirty.”

Killian held up his index finger and shook it. “Well, let’s think about this. We go to the movies - that’s, say, 20 bucks. I get gas for my car, we get popcorn - that’s 60. And if she has a sweet tooth, we’re looking at 75 bucks.”

“I’m not negotiating this. Take it or leave it.”

Killian shrugged. “Fifty bucks and we’ve got a deal.” He held out his hand to Neal, and this time, he was the one wiggling his eyebrows. Neal sighed as he pulled a $50 bill from his wallet, placing it in Killian’s outstretched hand. Pocketing the cash, he waved to Neal and said good-bye to Will as he made himself comfortable on the concrete bench to watch the rest of practice.

As soon as the coach dismissed the soccer team, Killian stood up, shoved his hands into his pockets, and prepared himself to approach Emma Swan. As she packed some things into her equipment bag, Killian came up behind her.

“Hey there, love. How are you this fine afternoon?”

Emma swung around at his voice, clearly startled, though refusing to let him know it. “First, not your love. Second, sweating like a pig, actually. And yourself?”

“Now there’s a way to get a guy’s attention.”

She rolled her eyes. “My mission in life.” Her eyes narrowed when Killian didn’t walk away. She threw her bag over her shoulder then crossed her arms. “But apparently I’ve gotten your attention, so, you see, it worked.” Emma started off back to the locker room to get the rest of her stuff so she could get home and shower. She did not expect him to follow her.

“Pick you up Friday, then?”

She swung around to face him once again. “Oh, right. Friday. Yeah, sure.”

He lowered his voice, “I’ll take you places you’ve never been before.”

“Like the alley behind the drugstore on Main Street? Do you even know my name, jackass?”

“I know a lot more than you think.”

“Doubtful. Very doubtful.”

“You’re something of an open book.” She stuttered in her movement to walk away. There was something in his face that told her he wasn’t lying. But if he thought he knew her, he had another thing coming. After taking another moment to scan her suitor, she turned around and walked inside, not letting him call after her or follow.

Alone on the field, Killian actually smiled as he said the only two words coming to mind at that moment, “bloody hell.”

Later that night, Emma was brushing her teeth before bed when her sister came into the bathroom for her nightly routine.

“Have you ever considered a new look? I mean, seriously, you could have some definite potential buried under all that hostility.” Emma stilled the hand holding her toothbrush and stared at her sister, who looked entirely unfazed.

“I’m not hostile. I’m annoyed.”

“Why don’t you try being nice? I know you are. But people at school wouldn’t know what to think.”

“You forget that I don’t care what people think. Stopped caring ages ago.”

Mary Margaret turned to Emma and put a hand on her shoulder. “You do care.”

Emma shook her head and spit the toothpaste out of her mouth. “No, I don’t. And you don’t always have to be who they want you to be. You know that?”

“I happen to enjoy being liked by people.”

Emma rinsed her toothbrush before looking back at her sister. “Wait, where’d you get that necklace?”

“It’s Mom’s,” Mary Margaret squeaked out.

Emma couldn’t believe this. Only three years after their mother’s death and Mary Margaret thought she could just take her things. “And you’ve been hiding it for three years?”

“No. Dad found it in a drawer last week.”

“And you’re wearing it now? Is that going to be a normal thing?”

“It’s not like she’s going to wear it. And she always said she thought it would look good on me.”

Emma shook her head and felt the tears threatening to spill. “Trust me,” she spat out, “it doesn’t.”

With bags of food in hand, Emma emerged from the grocery store to find Killian Jones leaning against her car.

“This is quite the vessel you captain here, Swan.”

She rested the bags on the sidewalk, but she still gripped the handles. “Are you following me?”

“I was at Marco’s. Saw your car - hard to miss, that yellow Bug. I came over to say hi.”

“Hi.” She picked up her groceries and moved to put them in her car. Killian kept a hand on the door, stopping her from opening it.

“Not a big talker?”

“Depends on the topic. Hearing people mock my car doesn’t really whip me into a verbal frenzy.”

Killian stared at her like he was putting together a puzzle, trying to figure her out. His voice was high-pitched with curiosity as he asked, “you’re not afraid of me, are you?”

“Afraid of you?” She managed to get her door open and shoved her bags in the car before turning back around to face her stalker. “Why would I be afraid of you?”

He shrugged. “Most people are.”

“I’m not.”

“Well, maybe you’re not afraid of me. But I’m sure you’ve thought about me naked.” He gave her a knowing wink. She thought it was absolutely obnoxious.

She feigned surprise. “Am I that transparent?” He chuckled as she wedged herself into her car. Putting his hands up in mock innocence, Killian backed up onto the sidewalk as Emma started to pull away. Of course, Neal Gold parked his show-off classic car in the road directly behind her. “What is it, asshole day?” She muttered to herself. To Neal, who was walking into his father’s pawn shop, she yelled, “hey, do you mind?”

He yelled back, “no, not at all,” before walking into the shop and slamming the door behind him.

Fed up, Emma backed straight out and into Neal’s car, pushing it until it was out of the way. Her car may be old, but it was built better than his rich-kid car. She started to pull out of the parking lot, flipping Neal off as he came running out of the store.

“What the hell, bitch?!”

“Oops!” She laughed as she pulled away, even flashing Killian a smile from her window before disappearing from view.

Killian had stood on the sidewalk watching the whole scene, a delighted smile gracing his face as Neal ran to his car to assess the damage. Emma Swan could certainly hold her own.

After being properly lectured about the accident by her father, who tried and failed to hide that he was definitely a tad proud, Emma’s reading was interrupted by a screech from her sister.

“Did you maim Neal’s car?!”

“Yup. Looks like you’re going to have to take the bus, or, you know, ride with your bitch of a sister.” Emma smiled, but didn’t bother looking up from her book.

“Has the fact that you’re completely insane managed to escape your attention?”

Emma shrugged. Mary Margaret let out a noise of frustration and then walked away.

Killian was at his locker talking to Will when none other than Neal Gold came strutting over and slammed Killian’s locker closed.

“When I shell out fifty bucks, I expect results.” He looked like he was two seconds from grabbing Killian’s jacket and lifting him up against the lockers, if only he wasn’t scared of Killian.

“I’m on it, mate.” He grinned at Will before turning back to a still-fuming Neal. Will slapped Killian on the back as he took his leave.

“Watching that bitch ram into my car doesn’t count as a date. If you don’t get some, I don’t get some. So get some.” Neal glared at Killian for a solid minute before starting to walk away when it was clear Killian wasn’t budging.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Killian called after him. “I just upped my price.”

Neal stared in disbelief. With what happened to Neal’s car, Killian figured he could get more out of him, though getting Emma Swan to go out with him was not about the money anymore. He liked a good challenge, and he might even like her. But the money wouldn’t hurt.

“Hundred bucks a date in advance.” Killian stood confidently as Neal stomped over to him.

“Forget it.” He started to walk away again.

“Forget her sister, then.” Killian knew he had Neal there.

Neal fished another $50 bill from his wallet. “You better hope you’re as smooth as you think you are, Jones.”

Killian said nothing, just took the money with a smug smile and walked away, leaving Neal at the lockers.

Killian Jones looked forward to his daily 45 minutes of shop class. He liked being hands-on, and it was a creative outlet. Since shop was an elective and it involved some heavy machinery, shop was the class in which the least amount of his classmates were scared of him. And the best part for Killian - his prosthetic hand was a guaranteed steady weight, and he didn’t risk cutting himself on that hand.

Their latest project was the most obvious of projects for a high school shop class: A birdhouse. However, the students could design their birdhouses to look like anything they wanted, so Killian was modeling his as a ship. His older brother had served in the navy, and Liam had gotten his younger brother fascinated with ships.

Just as Killian was working on carving the boat’s largest sail, he was approached by two guys who were absolutely not in the class.

The blonde spoke first. “We know what you’re trying to do with Emma Swan.”

Killian put down the sander he was using on the sail. “Is that so? And what do you plan to do about it?”

“Help you out.”

That was not the response he was expecting. “Why’s that?”

The kid in the too-tight leather jacket answered. “The situation is my man David here is really into Mary Margaret Blanchard.”

Killian sighed. Of course. “What is it with this lass?”

“Look, I think I speak correctly when I say that David's love is pure - purer than, say, Neal Gold’s.”

“I really don’t give a damn who Gold nails. He’s paying me. That’s all this is.”

David reacted before his friend could get a word out. “There will be no nailing going on.”

The friend put a hand up to stop David from continuing. “Killian, Let me explain something to you here. We set this whole thing up so David could get the girl - David. Neal's just a pawn.”

“So you two are going to help me tame the wild beast?” Killian alternated pointing between the two guys in front of him.

“We’ll do some research. We’ll find out what she likes.” Both of the guys were grinning at Killian. “Let’s start with Friday night. Matt Murdock is throwing a party - the perfect opportunity for you to take Emma out.”

“I’ll think about it.” Picking up the sander once more, Killian got back to work on his birdhouse, hoping his intruders would take the hint and go away. Once they were gone, patting each other on their backs as they walked away, the noise from the sander chased off any thoughts of Emma Swan and this plan he’d gotten mixed up in.

“So, Mary Margaret, have you heard about Murdock’s party Friday?” David looked at his walking companion.

“Yes. And I really, really, really want to go, but I can't - not unless my sister goes.”

“I know. I’m working on that. But so far, she just isn’t going for my guy.” Mary Margaret nodded slowly. Of course her sister wasn’t going for some guy. “She’s not, you know-”

“No,” Mary Margaret answered plainly. “She’s definitely into guys. I found magazine cutouts of actors she likes in her drawer once.”

“So that’s the kind of guys she likes - pretty guys?”

Mary Margaret shook her head. “I don’t know. All I've ever heard her say is that she'd die before dating a guy that smokes.”

“Okay. Helpful. What else?”

“You’re asking me to get inside my sister’s twisted mind? I don’t think so, David.”

“Well, nothing else has worked. We might have to go behind enemy lines here.”

Mary Margaret stopped in her tracks as she considered the idea. “Okay, come with me.” David couldn’t quite hide the smile blooming on his face. “You are really lucky I like you.”

Back at the Blanchard household, the two made sure Emma wasn’t home before creeping into her room.

“She keeps all her junk in this drawer.” Mary Margaret opened it slowly and started rifling through it. David stood awkwardly in the doorway, unsure of how exactly to act in Emma Swan’s bedroom. “Class schedule, reading list, planner, coffee receipts, concert tickets.” There was some potentially useful stuff there. David approached slowly, taking the items Mary Margaret had gathered. “Ah-ha! Red panties!”

David coughs. “What does that tell us?”

“She wants to have sex someday!”

“Or she’s really into red? She does wear that jacket all the time.”

“You don’t buy red lingerie unless you want someone to see it,” Mary Margaret laughed at his flustered behavior.

“Right.” David pulled the pile of Emma material closer to him as he took a step back from where Mary Margaret held out the red underwear. “You can put that back now.”

Rolling her eyes, she put the panties back in the drawer and took the pile from David. He got out his phone and took pictures of her schedule, reading list, and concert tickets. He’d take a more detailed look once they were out of Emma’s room. “You so owe me for coming in here.”

“Freedom to go to Murdock’s party?”

“I suppose that’s a start.”

Killian Jones worked part-time as a bartender at a local bar. The hours meant very little sleep, and he was late for school a lot after sleeping through his alarm, but the bar’s owner let him do homework behind the bar and he liked his regulars. The last thing he expected to see on the job was the two guys from shop class walk in. They looked entirely out of place, David in his bright plaid shirt and too-big grin on his face.

“So this is what a bar looks like.”

Killian ran to the front of the bar and pulled David by his shirt collar over to the pool table. “If my boss caught you two at the bar, I could lose my job. Why are you here?”

David pried his shirt from Killian’s fist and his grin disappeared. “We have some intel for you.”

Killian sat on the edge of the pool table. “All right. What’ve you got?”

“Wait. We can’t be at the bar, but you can work at one?” August crossed his arms.

“Owner is a family friend. If I drink, I lose my job,” Killian paused and looked between the two guys. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

Nodding in understanding, David went back to the night’s intended subject. “Well, thing No. 1, Emma hates smokers - hates.”

Killian’s jaw dropped.

“So you’re telling me I’m now a non-smoker?” August reached into Killian’s jacket pocket and took his pack of cigarettes.

“Yup.” Killian narrowed his eyes at August in anger. “But just for now.” He pocketed the cigarettes and held his hands up in innocence.

“Actually, there’s another problem,” David started. Killian turned his attention to him and raised his eyebrows in question. “Mary Margaret said Emma likes, um, pretty guys.”

Killian stared at David in silence for a second. “Are you telling me I’m not a pretty guy?”

“You’re very pretty. Gorgeous, in fact. Right, David?” August elbowed David in the side.

“Yup. Very pretty. I just, you know, I wasn’t sure.”

Killian started walking away, thinking the conversation was over.

“Wait. We have more.” David held up a crumpled up piece of paper.

Killian glanced over at the bar to make sure he was covered before turning back to David. “Go on.”

“Okay. Likes: Chinese and Indian food, hot chocolate, coffee, ‘80s music, Robert Downey Jr., and ‘90s boy bands, which I just cannot believe.” David pulled out another sheet of notebook paper. “This is for you - list of dvds she has in her room, list of books on her bookshelf that look the most read, and her most played songs on her iPod.”

“So I’m supposed to buy her Chicken Tikka Masala, a book, and sit around watching Robert Downey Jr. movies when we aren’t listening to Michael Jackson and Bon Jovi?”

Killian’s knowledge of the things David listed honestly surprised both August and him.

“Actually, have you ever heard of Avril Lavigne?”

“She has tickets to see her tomorrow night.”

“Absolutely not. I can’t be seen at an Avril Lavigne concert.”

“If it helps, she’s got a pair of red underwear.”

Leaving Killian gaping, David and August left.

As he headed back to the bar to resume work, Killian groaned because he knew he had to go to that bloody concert the following night.

Killian could not be happier that the venue Avril Lavigne was playing had a bar with a bartender who absolutely could not tell a fake ID from a real one. Nursing a glass of rum - he limited himself to two; he had to drive home himself and he wasn’t that irresponsible - he watched Emma dance to the music with her friend. She was a vision in a green tank top and jeans, strong arms on display without her usual red leather jacket. Her hair was only just slightly wavy as she flipped it over her shoulder. He watched as she said something to her friend before heading his way. Spinning himself around on the stool, he pretended to be extremely interested in his phone all the sudden.

“Two waters, please.”

Killian could tell when she noticed him sitting there by her aggravated groan. “If you’re planning on asking me out again, you might as well get it over with.”

“Do you mind? I can’t hear the music over your voice.”

She knew perfectly well that he was not there for the music. “You’re not surrounded by your usual cloud of smoke.”

“Yeah. About that - I quit. Did you know those things are bad for you?”

“Wait. You quit?”

“Aye.” Killian took it as a win when Emma stared at him, too stunned to reply with some sarcastic retort. “You know, Swan, I was watching you out there before.”

“Stalker,” she quipped before thanking the bartender for the waters and paying him.

“I’ve never seen you look so sexy,” Killian commented when Emma turned her attention back to him, except he hadn’t noticed the song was ending, and there was a moment of silence in the club right as he spoke. His ears flashed bright red as he scratched at a spot behind his right ear. Being nearly the only male in the club, his comment was met with giggles from the female crowd, who had heard him clearly. The saving grace of his embarrassment was that Emma, gorgeously flushed from both her dancing and embarrassment, also laughed. Killian waited until the next song had started before getting the courage to talk again. “Come with me to Murdock’s party.”

“You just don’t know when to give up, huh?” She flashed him a grin as she made her way back to her friend in the crowd.

“Was that a yes?” He called after her.

“No,” she shouted in return.

“Was that a no?”

“No.”

Smiling to himself, he yelled to her once more, “I’ll pick you up at 9.”

Mary Margaret and Tamara had put on their party clothes and were close to the front door when Mr. Leo Blanchard called out from the couch, “should’ve used the window, girls.”

Tamara smacked Mary Margaret in the arm and muttered, “told you.”

Leo got up and confronted the girls. “And where are we going?”

“Well, if you must know, a small study group of friends.” Mary Margaret batted her eyelashes.

“Also known as a party?”

“Mr. Blanchard, it’s just a party. And I promise I’ll take care of Mary Margaret,” Tamara tried.

Leo called up the stairs, “Emma, did you know about some party tonight?”

“I don’t know,” Emma yelled from her room.

“That settles it. Emma isn’t going, you’re not going.”

“Emma!” Mary Margaret screeched up the stairs. “Emma, please! Just for one night, can’t you forget that you hate everyone and be my sister? Please? C’mon, Emma, please do this for me.”

Emma closed her book and sighed. Mary Margaret’s pleading was genuine enough. Grabbing her leather jacket, she headed downstairs. “Fine. I’ll make an appearance.”

Mary Margaret hugged Emma between high-pitched squeals of delight.

“Thank you, Emma. Thank you.”

Leo Blanchard just stood there in shock as Mary Margaret and Tamara ran out the door. Emma rolled her eyes and answered the door when someone knocked, expecting it to be one of her sister’s many suitors. She was taken aback when it was Killian Jones.

“What are you doing here?”

“It’s 9, right?” He glanced at his watch - 8:47. “Oh, I’m early.”

Emma barely recalled his promise to pick her up at 9. She was surprised he actually kept his word.

“Alright. The sooner we get there, the sooner we can leave.” She grabbed his left hand, which she noticed did not feel like a flesh hand, and pulled him out the door. His breath hitched immediately and it was like he forgot how to walk. She tugged before letting go. “You coming?”

He shook himself out of it. “Yeah. Of course, Swan.”

The party was exactly how Emma imagined it would be: Drunk teenagers all dry humping each other and talking far too loudly. She and Killian wandered around, neither one really sure how to act at a party. Walking upstairs, Killian was stopped by Ashley, that girl from their English class.

Ashley threw herself at Killian, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him to her. “Kiss me!”

Killian looked around, spotting a guy sitting on a beanbag placed in the hallway. He directed Ashley to that guy, forcing her into his lap. “Kiss him.”

About to walk away, Killian was stopped by a hand on his jacket - the hand of the guy he forced Ashley onto. “Hey, man! Thanks!”

Killian nodded at him and went to try to find Emma. He spotted her in one of the guest rooms, where someone had stuck a keg. She was talking to Neal Gold.

“Hey, Swan Princess. Looking good!”

Emma glared at Neal, the last person she wanted to see that night. Already wanting to leave, she turned around to find Killian to let him know she was going home. As she started walking out of the room, Neal grabbed her waist and pulled her back to him.

“Where you going, Em?”

“Away.” Emma pulled his hand off her.

“Where’s your sister? She here?”

“Stay the hell away from my sister.”

Neal put his hands up in mock surrender. “Fine. I’ll stay away from Mary Margaret, but I can’t guarantee she’ll stay away from me.” He smirked.

Emma pushed through the crowd to leave the room. She wandered around for a while as she looked for Killian. Heading into the kitchen hoping that if Killian wasn’t in there, maybe she could at least find something halfway-decent to eat, she was met with her sister on one of Neal’s arms and Tamara on his other. Both girls were giddy.

“Em,” he screamed. “Look who found me!” He led the girls away from Emma, who lost them in the crowd. So much for protecting her sister from the biggest jerk in Maine. She was an awful sister.

“Hey, want one?” She whipped her head around to see some guy who she figured was in college. He held out a tray of shots.

Glancing around the room once more, she didn’t see Mary Margaret anymore, or Killian, so she shrugged and took a shot. She downed it right as Killian found her.

“Swan, what are you doing?” He looked panicked as he took the empty shot glass from her.

“Partying. Like a normal person. My sister would be so proud.”

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Swan-” Killian was cut off as Emma spotted another tray of shots and wandered off in pursuit. Killian watched helplessly from the spot Emma just stood. “One of these days, I’m going to stop chasing this woman.” He headed after her, hoping she didn’t get too carried away.

“August, I just saw Mary Margaret.”

“Took you long enough to find her. Where is she now?”

“With Neal.” August froze, his cup of water not quite making it to his mouth.

“That wasn’t in the plan. Now what?”

David took a deep breath. “I - I don’t know. She was happy. She looked like she wanted to be here with him.”

“Go find her again. Make up a reason for her to spend time with you instead.” David nodded, sighing and turning to leave. He looked defeated. August patted David on the back as he watched his friend disappear into the crowd. “Good luck, my friend.”

Killian paced the entirety of the house twice before he found Emma, but too late. She was dancing on the coffee table in the living room, completely drunk.

“Swan, what do you say I have this shot?” He pried the glass from her hand as she continued to dance.

“No! It’s mine!” She tried her hardest to grab it back, but she was slow in her inebriated state.

“Hey, man!” Neal put an arm around Killian’s shoulders. Killian shuddered in return. “How did you do it?”

“What?”

“You managed to get her to act like a normal person!” Neal cheered as Emma kept dancing, taking off her jacket and swinging it around. Killian shook off Neal and moved closer to Emma as she made her way to the edge of the table. He was barely able to catch her as she fell off, but when he did, he carried her outside to keep her from drinking any more. He found a bench on the porch outside and put her down onto it.

“Are you alright?”

“Never better.” That was a lie. She couldn’t even sit up by herself. She leaned on Killian’s side and let her head dangle forward as she rested her eyes.

Killian rubbed her back and made sure she was comfortable. She dozed off on his shoulder. He sighed, rubbing his temples when he saw David storm out of the house.

“She wanted Neal this whole time!”

Killian helped lie Emma down onto the bench as he stepped aside to talk with David. “What’s up, mate?”

“I saw Mary Margaret and Tamara with Neal. I felt sorry for myself for a little, then went to find her again. The second time, she was so transfixed with him. I was a fool. It’s off, Killian. The whole thing’s off. Thanks for trying, but she never wanted me. She just wanted me to help her out so she could go out with him.”

Killian didn’t have time for this.

“Nolan, look. Do you like Mary Margaret?”

David sighed and softened. “Yeah.”

“And is she worth all the trouble?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know anymore. I thought so, but-”

Killian stared David down. “Look, mate. Either she is or she isn’t. First of all, Neal is not half the man you are. Secondly, don’t let anyone ever make you feel like you don’t deserve what you want, aye?”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah.”

Emma stirred and tried to stand up from the bench on her own.

“I’m a tad busy here, Dave. Best of luck with Mary Margaret.” David nodded and took off back inside. Killian ran back to Emma just in time to catch her and get her to sit back down.

“Why are you taking care of me like this?” Emma babbled.

“It may surprise you, Swan, but I care for you.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You don’t really, though.”

“Of course I do.”

“Why?”

“If you weren’t around, I’d have to start taking out girls who actually like me.”

She snorted. “Like you could find one.”

“Ah, see that? Who needs affection when I have blind hatred?” They both laughed. “Can I ask you something now, Swan?” She didn’t answer. “Why do you let Neal get to you? I mean, he’s a wanker, but it’s like you take it personally.”

“I hate him.”

Killian opened his mouth to ask another question, but he was interrupted by Emma darting into a sitting position before puking onto the ground in front of the bench. He sighed yet again as he gathered her hair and held it back as she emptied her stomach.

“Hey, Mary Margaret, Neal’s holding an afterparty. You in?”

“I don’t know, Tam. I have a curfew. It’s my first night of freedom. I can’t take advantage like that.”

“Girls, you coming?” Neal waved from the door.

“Be right there,” Tamara called out to him in her flirtiest voice. He seemed impressed. Mary Margaret started to realize that maybe Neal wasn’t that into her. Maybe he just wanted any girl he could get his hands on.

“Last chance, Mary Margaret.”

With her recent realization, she actually didn’t want to go the party. “I think I’ll just find my sister and go home.”

“Alright. Your loss. Text you tomorrow.” Mary Margaret nodded to acknowledge her friend before sighing and looking around for Emma. It was looking like she needed a ride home. She found David instead.

“Hey. Have fun tonight?” He asked timidly.

“Look, David,” she started. She made eye contact as she asked, “do you think you could give me a ride home?”

Killian and Emma sat in his car. He was parked in front of her house, but she seemed hesitant to get out of the car.

“I should do this,” she giggles.

“Do what?”

She pointed at the car stereo.

“Install car stereos?” She laughed. He would think about that laugh for the rest of time.

“No. Start a band. Wouldn’t my dad just love that?” In that moment, she thought about her mom and how she loved to sing and play guitar - she was the reason Emma taught herself guitar.

“You don't strike me as the type to ask your father’s permission.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You really think you know me, huh?”

“I like to think I’m getting closer.”

“The only thing people know about me is that I’m a bitch.”

“Yeah, well, I’m no picnic myself.” Emma and Killian locked eyes as silence overtook the car. Killian was the one to break the moment. “So what's up with your dad? Is he a pain in the ass like everyone makes him seem?”

“Nah. He just wants me to be someone I’m not.”

“Who’s that?”

“Mary Margaret.”

“Well, no offense to your sister or anything, but she’s without.”

Emma stared at him. She’d always been the second-choice sister. “You’re really not as repulsive as I thought you were.” The two seemed to share a moment as Emma leaned in closer to Killian. His breath hitched, and it was then and the stench of beer and tequila that reminded him how drunk she was.

“Swan, maybe we should do this another time.”

Emma pulled back, hurt flashing in her eyes at the rejection. She wrestled to get the car door open, then slammed it before walking to her house, wiping tears along the way. Killian sighed as his head fell forward to rest on the steering wheel. He just hoped she’d understand when she sobered up.

Meanwhile, in David’s car, still at the party, he couldn’t find it in himself to turn the motor on just yet.

“You never wanted to go out with me, did you?”

“Well, I kinda did.”

“But I’m not Neal.”

“I don’t know. He’s just-”

“You don’t have to say any more.”

“I do like you, David.”

“Save it. just because you're beautiful, doesn't mean you can treat people like they don't matter. I mean, I really like you. I defended you when people called you conceited. I helped set Emma up so you could get out of the house. I learned French for you. And then you just blow me off for him.”

Mary Margaret answered by pulling him to her and kissing him. Cheering to himself, David knew he had won after all. She was absolutely worth the trouble.

Mr. Pendragon opened class as he always did on Mondays, asking about the students’ weekends.

“Why don’t you ask Emma?” Neal joked.

“Why do I feel like I don’t actually want to know what you all got up to?” He looked over at Emma, who was hiding her head in her arms on her desk. “All right. I definitely don’t. Let’s get started. Sonnets!”

The class groaned.

“I know, I know. Shakespeare and poetry - not everyone’s favorite things. But I want you all to write your own sonnets.”

Emma raised her hand. Mr. Pendragon prepared himself for the worst. “Does it have to be in iambic pentameter?”

Mr. Pendragon was stunned. “You don’t want to assert an opinion here?”

“I think this is a good assignment.”

“Are you messing with me?”

“No. I’m really looking forward to writing this.” He sized her up for a minute looking for a trace of a lie. Whatever happened last weekend must have really gotten to her.

“Alright, Ms. Swan. Thank you. And, no, it does not have to be written in iambic pentameter.”

Emma nodded and took note, specifically avoiding looking behind her at where Killian’s desk was.

Killian sat on the sideline bench alone as he watched Emma practice with her soccer team. He sighed, really wishing he could smoke a cigarette at that moment.

“Hey, man.” David sat next to Killian. “What’d you do to her?”

“Nothing. And if I had done anything, she would’ve been too drunk to remember.”

“But the plan was working.”

Killian took his eyes off Emma and looked at David. “Why do you even care? I thought the plan was off?”

“It was, but you gave me that pep talk and then,” he smiled.

“And then?”

“She kissed me.”

That got Killian to smile. At least someone got the girl. “Where?”

“In my car.”

Killian was going to press for more details, but August ran up to the bench. “So I talked to Emma.”

“And?” Killian looked up at August, hopeful.

“She really, really hates you right now.” Killian’s shoulders sagged with disappointment.

“Well,” David tried to find a positive in the situation but failed. “Maybe she just needs a day to cool off.”

All three guys ducked as a soccer ball came beaming at them at a speed that seemed like it could’ve cleanly knocked one of their heads off. They turned to the field to find Emma glaring at them. She was absolutely the one who kicked it. She was absolutely aiming for Killian.

David smiled sheepishly. “Maybe two days.”

Emma and Lily were headed outside to eat lunch when they came across a flier for prom. In anger, Emma yanked it from the wall.

“Can you imagine who would go to that antiquated mating ritual?”

Lily raised her hand. “I actually would, but I don’t have a date.”

Emma shot daggers at Lily with her eyes.

“Okay, okay. We won’t go. It’s not like I have a dress anyway.”

“Hey, Mary Margaret,” Neal came up to her.

She wasn’t really interested in talking to him. “Can I help you?” She focused on the field hockey ball she was dribbling between her stick.

“You’re concentrating awfully hard for gym class.”

“What do you want?”

“I want to talk to you about prom.”

“You know the deal.” She chased the ball after losing control of it. Stopping dribbling for a minute, she finally faced Neal. “I can’t go if Emma doesn’t.”

“You sister is going.”

She crossed her arms. “Since when?”

“Let’s just say I’m taking care of it.”

Mary Margaret smiled. Maybe she’d get to go to prom after all, but she definitely didn’t see herself there with Neal.

Neal held out two $100 bills to Killian. “This should take care of the flowers, the limo, the tux - everything. Just make sure she gets to the prom.”

“You know what? I’m out. I’m sick of playing your little game.” Killian’s eyes scanned the hallway. He just wanted to see Emma again.

“Are you still out if I raise it to $300?”

Killian knew he could use the money, but Emma wasn’t a business transaction for him. He took the money. He would use some of it for prom if things went well, but he was coming up with a plan for a way to use some of the rest of it.

The next day, Killian saw Emma’s car at a record store. He stopped in to see if she was still angry at him.

“Excuse me,” he tapped her on the shoulder. “Have you seen a copy of From Under The Cork Tree? I seem to have misplaced mine.”

She whipped around and crossed her arms. “What are you doing here?”

“I was looking for a Fall Out Boy album. I thought my inquiry made that clear.”

“You’re so-”

“Charming? Devilishly handsome?”

“Unwelcome.” She started to walk to a different section of the store. He followed.

“You’re not as mean as you think you are.”

“You’re not as badass as you think you are.”

“Someone still has her panties in a twist.”

She swung around. “Don't you, for one second, think that you had any effect on my panties.”

“Then what did I have an effect on?”

“Other than my upchuck reflex, nothing.” She continued browsing through records, then pulled one out. She pressed it to his chest before leaving. Killian had to set his plan in motion quickly. Before leaving himself, he looked at the record she found him: From Under the Cork Tree.

At soccer practice the next day, Emma was in the zone. Soccer was a great way for her to channel her anger at Killian. She was so focused on perfecting the team’s newest play, she hadn’t realized her teammates all stopped playing. Trapping the ball, she turned around to face the bleachers to see what all her teammates were staring at. She was greeted by Killian at the top of the bleachers, something in his hand. He ran down a few rows of seats so Emma could make him out better. It was a microphone.

Pulling the mic to his mouth, he sang, “you’re just too good to be true. Can’t take my eyes off of you. You'd be like heaven to touch. I want to hold you so much. At long last love has arrived, and I thank god I'm alive. You're just too good to be true. Can't take my eyes off you.”

Emma found herself almost swooning. Her teammates looked at her for her reaction. She smiled, then jumped as there was a loud noise from behind her. She turned to see the marching band walking onto the field, playing along to the song Killian was singing.

She turned her attention back to Killian. “I love you, baby. And if it's quite alright, I need you, baby, to warm the lonely nights.”

The school police had gotten word of the disturbance and were running onto the bleachers to stop Killian. Taking a look at his pursuers, Killian wagged his eyebrows at Emma before running around the bleachers as he sang, dodging police officers and adding a strut or two as he sauntered around.

And he didn’t miss a note. “I love you, baby. Trust in me when I say, oh, pretty baby, don't bring me down, I pray. Oh, pretty baby, now that I've found you, stay and let me love you.”

He made his way down to the first row of seats, and Emma found herself walking over to him. She smiled and laughed as he sang the last line, staring into her eyes. “Baby, let me love you.”

Everyone who witnessed the song applauded and cheered when he finished, Emma included. Smiling back at her, Killian winked before being carried off by the police officers. Who knew Killian Jones would be one for grand romantic gestures?

Saturday detention was nothing new to Killian Jones. He had been sentenced to spend a few of his precious free days at school among his fellow delinquents before - sometimes for smoking, sometimes for ditching class or coming in late, et cetera, et cetera. But this Saturday, the prospect of spending his entire day trapped in an overheated classroom was more bothersome than usual, as he knew that Emma Swan was no longer angry with him. He wanted nothing more than to spend the day with her.

Resigning himself to twiddling his thumbs in detention all day, Killian sat back and tried to make himself comfortable. He stared at the ceiling for what must have been 20 minutes, avoiding getting on Coach Stark’s bad side - maybe he could get off early for good behavior?

Killian’s attention was pulled from the ceiling as the door to the classroom slammed closed. He sat up slowly before blinking his eyes rapidly to ensure his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him. Talking to Coach Stark at the front of the room was none other than Emma Swan. Killian immediately sat up straighter. Emma glanced at him from the corner of her eye, still talking to her soccer coach.

When Coach Stark bent down to get a pad of paper and pen from his desk, Emma mouthed to Killian, “the windows,” as she pointed to said windows. He nodded and got in position to move from his desk while not arousing suspicion from the coach. With the in-charge adult’s attention on Emma, Killian tiptoed in the aisle between the desks to the row of windows lining the left wall of the classroom.

“So I think we really need to work more on our defense for the game against the Racoons,” Killian caught a bit of Emma’s conversation as he worked to silently open a window wide enough for him to squeeze through. Emma watched him worriedly with quick glances over to him. “Ruby is a great goalie, but the team needs to have her back when she’s down after blocking a shot.”

Killian cursed to himself when his jacket zipper got caught on the window. His eyes flashed to Emma’s. She put her hands on Coach Stark to keep him facing her. “I mean, if she’s down, I just think someone needs to step into the goal and cover for her.”

“Emma, why don’t we talk about this more at practice next week.” He turned to sit back at his desk, but a quick look at Killian showed Emma he was only half out of the window.

Acting impulsively and without any real thought, she eyed the corner of the teacher’s desk and walked forward as if to keep talking to the coach as he sat down. With a precisely placed foot, Emma tripped over the desk leg and fell straight to the floor. Her fall was met with a stinging in her left wrist, but as she looked to the window, Killian was nowhere in sight. Sighing in relief, she cradled her wrist with her other hand as Coach Stark bent down next to her to tend to her. She definitely injured her wrist, but if Killian got away unnoticed, it would be worth it.

Feeling the concrete under his feet, Killian was so thankful the detention room was on the first floor. He looked into the room to see Emma and figure out how she managed to get him out unseen, but she was nowhere in sight. Disappointed over not being able to see her and properly thank her, he started making his way to his car.

Halfway across the parking lot, he spun around at the sound of his name.

“Killian! Killian, wait up!” Emma was waving and running to where he stood.

“Swan,” he grinned as she caught up to him. “Thanks for springing me from detention.”

“Yeah, well, if I hadn’t been so pissed that you wouldn’t take advantage of me in your car, you never would’ve ended up there.”

“I don’t regret it, you know.”

Emma’s eyes flashed downward as she blushed just enough for Killian to notice.

“Hey, Swan, what are you doing now?”

“Heading home to read, I guess. Or I have some homework I could do.” Truth was she was going to go home to ice her wrist; it was hurting like crazy.

He really hoped the interest he saw in her eyes was really there. “Come on, Swan.” He walked to the passenger side of his car and opened the door. “In the car.”

“What? That’s really creepy, Jones.”

“And here I thought you weren’t afraid of me,” he joked.

Emma stuck her tongue out at him as she got into the car. The wrist probably wasn’t broken. It could wait. Once he got settled into his seat, Emma asked, “so what’s going on here?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m taking you-” he booped her nose “-on a date.”

Killian took Emma to a harbor. Emma hissed when Killian took her left hand upon her getting out of the car, but she didn’t see any sign he noticed. He led her to a corner of the harbor where people were going out onto the water in little swan boats.

“The swans made me think of you, and I thought it might be fun.” He let go of her hand and scratched behind his ear. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just-”

Emma was a tad worried they wouldn’t be able to steer themselves and that they’d be stranded in the harbor, but she couldn’t chicken out when little kids were doing it. “It looks like fun. Let’s do it.”

He put a hand on her back as they walked to the man running the swan boat rentals. The boats were much bigger than Emma expected, and they were steered with two sets of pedals - one set for each of them. Killian helped her into the boat, then followed, impressively steady on his own. When they were in safely, they both found their pedals and took off. Emma was surprised how smoothly the boat moved through the water.

“We’re out far enough. Let’s just drift for a little.” She took her feet off the pedals and looked around. She felt so peaceful out there. The only thing keeping her grounded in reality was the stinging from her wrist. “You know, Swan, I thought, for sure, I was busted when I was halfway out the window. How did you keep the coach distracted?”

Not wanting to admit that she tripped on purpose to distract the teacher but accidentally injured herself, plus the fact that he’d make her go home if he knew she was in pain, she just shrugged, a smirk on her face.

Killian got the hint that she wouldn’t tell him. “So what’s your excuse then?”

“For what?”

“Acting the way we do.”

“I don't like to do what people expect. Why should I live up to other people’s expectations instead of my own?”

He was smart enough to know there was a reason for this, but he didn’t push for the backstory. “So you disappoint them from the start and then you're covered, right?

“Something like that.”

“Then you screwed up.”

Emma never would have expected him to say something like that. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve yet to disappoint me.”

Emma didn’t know what to say, so she just stared, wide-eyed.

After the silence went on long enough, Killian broke it. “So I think we should head back to shore soon. We have another destination or two.”

“Where are we going?” She had softened considerably, and she barely recognized her voice so soft.

“Try something new, darling. It’s called trust.”

After a gourmet grilled cheese lunch - he told her she went on and on about grilled cheese while she was drunk at the party - he drove them to a paintball arena. Putting the car in park, he looked at Emma. “Are you up for it?”

Emma was so excited, she momentarily forgot about the pain in her wrist. She should’ve figured he wouldn’t be into any of the usual boring date stuff; he’s never been boring.

So she played paintball and absolutely painted Killian multiple different neon colors. And then they made out behind a makeshift shield until their game was over and they had to leave. Emma’s wrist was throbbing by the time she got back to the school parking lot, but she’d never laughed that much ever in her life. She didn’t even care that it was going to take four showers to get the neon pinks and greens from her hair. Emma Swan was happy, and it was because of Killian Jones.

Back in the school parking lot, they sat on a curb drinking milkshakes and talking.

“Can I ask you something?”

“How I’m so devilishly handsome? I’m afraid that’s a secret I can’t share.”

Emma rolled her eyes. Killian nodded for her to ask her real question. “What’s with the accent? I mean, you know how it is with people who act like us. The rumors are, frankly, ridiculous.”

“I was born in England. Lived there most of my life, until my mum got sick, my father abandoned me, and my brother died in the Navy. And there was the accident that gave me this,” he held up his left hand, which was a prosthetic. Emma had, of course, noticed before, but she had never given it thought.

“I’m sorry, Killian. None of those are rumors going around school. I never expected-”

“It’s okay, Swan. I moved here after all that. I didn’t want to be surrounded by those memories any longer.” She stared into his crystal clear blue eyes as he divulged his tragic past to her. “Became emancipated early on, so I live alone now. I have to support myself, but it’s better than being forced to face my father back in England, which is what I was supposed to do when Liam died.”

“Liam - your brother?”

“Aye.”

Emma felt like she really understood why he acted the way he did - it was much the same as the reasons she acted the way she did. They were kindred spirits.

“Enough of that for one date. It’s going to ruin the mood.”

“There’s a mood?”

“Well, I was hoping there was because I have something to ask you.” She waited for him to continue. “Will you go to prom with me?”

“Killian, I- no.”

His eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “No?”

“No.”

“Can I ask why not?” She tried not to feel awful at his high-pitched, shaky voice.

“Because I don’t want to. It’s a stupid tradition.”

“People don’t expect you to go. You love surprising people.”

“Killian, I said no. Why are you pushing this?”

He broke eye contact. “Nothing, love. I just wanted to go to prom with the girl I fancy,” he huffed.

Emma sensed something was off. “What’s in it for you?”

“So now I need a motive to want to be with you?”

“You tell me.”

“Emma!” He threw his hands up.

“Answer the question, Killian.”

“Nothing.” He stood up in anger and headed back to his own car. “Nothing is in it for me. I just wanted to take you and give you a great night.” He stopped, turning around to face Emma again. “I know love has been all too rare in your life. It would do you good to not push it away when you have it.” Turning back around, he got into his car and slammed the door before driving away in anger. That certainly hurt worse than her wrist did.

Emma and Lily were at their lockers packing their backpacks before they headed home. Lily opened her locker to find a gorgeous dress with a note attached.

“Emma,” she smiled, “I have a secret admirer! He asked me to prom!” She held the dress up to herself and grinned even harder.

Emma wanted to be happy for her friend, she really did, but she wasn’t feeling it. So she forced a smile onto her face and told her friend to have fun at the dance before shutting her locker and heading home.

“Come in,” Emma muttered to whoever was knocking on her door. She was lying in bed staring at the ceiling. Her TV was on, but she hadn’t been watching it for hours.

Mary Margaret didn’t enter the room, just poked her head into the door. “Just so you know, you’re not the only girl not going to prom. Dad said I can’t go because you aren’t. So, you know, if you want to stop hating yourself and do something, I’ll be around.”

Emma sat up. “Mary Margaret, wait.” Her sister walked in the room and sat on the corner of Emma’s bed. “I know you don’t like being stuck here just because I’m not dating, but don’t think I don’t care. I do care about your feelings, but I’m also big on doing something for your own reasons, and not someone else's.”

“But that’s selfish, Emma.”

“It’s protection.” She could see the questions in her sister’s brain. Emma decided she needed to tell Mary Margaret something she’d been avoiding for three years. “I guess Neal never mentioned that we went out, huh?”

Mary Margaret’s eyes widened.

“When we were freshmen, we went out for a month.”

“You hate Neal,” Mary Margaret pointed out.

“Now,” Emma corrected.

“Well, what happened?” Mary Margaret crawled closer to Emma.

“We - well, we - you know.”

Mary Margaret seemed to stop breathing. “Tell me you’re kidding.”

“I really wish I could.” Emma bit her lip before continuing. “It was only once. Mom had just died, and I didn’t know how to process anything. He kept pressing the issue, so I gave in and did it. Once it happened, things became - I don’t know - clearer somehow. I told him that was it; I didn’t want to do it again. He got mad and dumped me.” Taking a breath, Emma kept talking. “After that, I swore I’d never do anything when I didn’t want to just because someone else did.”

“Why hasn’t he said anything? That doesn’t make sense.”

“I threatened him - told him if he ever told anyone, then I’d tell people how bad he was at it.”

“But you didn’t tell me either, Emma.”

“I wanted you to make your own mistakes, I guess.”

Mary Margaret seemed to understand to an extent, but a part of her was clearly still mad at everything she’d missed out on. “You helped Dad keep me hostage!”

“I’m sorry. Not all experiences are good ones, Mary Margaret!”

“I guess I’ll never know.” With that, she stood up and went to her own room.

Emma sighed and fell back on her pillows. Welp, she was going to prom after all.

“Well, no one will expect this,” Emma mumbled as she stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror. She was wearing a pale pink dress - it wasn’t a floor-length dress, but Emma in a dress was still something.

Emma grabbed a jacket and ran down the stairs as quickly as she could in heels. “Bye, Dad. I’m going to prom.”

Leo Blanchard didn’t even look up away from the television set. “Funny, sweetie.”

Emma kept walking, not wanting to draw attention to herself. Leo only looked up when he heard the front door shut behind her. Getting up and going to investigate, Leo found his youngest daughter coming down the stairs in a floor-length gown.

“What’s going on, honey?”

“Prom,” she answered perkily.

“Yeah, that seems to be the word of the night.” He paused to think for a moment. “So Emma-”

“Went to prom. For me, Daddy. So now I can go.” As if on cue, there was a knock on the front door, which Mary Margaret answered.

David Nolan stood on the other side of the door, jaw dropping to the ground. “Hi.”

“Hi, David.” She took a step out of the house and linked arms with him before addressing her father. “Remember how you said I could date if Emma dated? Well, she found this guy who’s actually perfect for her, which is actually kind of perfect for me, because David asked me to go to the prom, and I really, really, really want to go. And since Emma went, I guess I’m allowed to.”

“It’s nice to meet you, sir.” David extended a hand out to Leo, who shook it.

“I know every cop in town, young man,” Leo stared down David.

“Noted.”

“Okay, David. Let’s go.” Mary Margaret pulled David to his car, waving goodbye to her father on the way.

Wandering around the ballroom hallway aimlessly, Emma came face-to-face with Killian, dressed in an all-black tux.

“Wow, Swan. You look stunning.”

“And you look-”

“I know.” He smirked, and she laughed.

“Where did you get a tux?”

“Just something I had lying around.”

“Oh?”

“Where’d you get the dress?”

Emma grinned. “Just something I had lying around.”

“I wasn’t sure how this was supposed to work, but” he pulled his hand from behind his back, and in it was a single red rose.

“Thanks.” She took it, still smiling. “So, look; I’m really sorry I questioned your motives. I was wrong.”

“All forgiven.”

“So, are you ready to do this thing?”

Meanwhile, back at the Blanchard household, Leo was interrupted from his favorite show yet again when the doorbell rang. He opened it to find Neal Gold standing on the other side.

“Hello, Mr. Blanchard. I’m Neal. I’m here to pick up Mary Margaret.”

Leo narrowed his eyes before telling him, “she’s not here,” and slamming the door in his face.

Back at prom, Emma and Killian walked into the ballroom hand-in-hand. Emma immediately spotted Mary Margaret dancing with her date. Mary Margaret noticed Emma, too, mouthing a “thank you” and smiling at Emma and Killian’s entwined hands.

“Have you seen him, Emma?” Emma spun around on the spot to find Lily looking frantic.

“Who?”

“My secret admirer! He said he’d be here, and he’s supposed to have a purple bowtie.”

“Lily, I don’t know how to tell you this, but-”

“Lass,” Killian tapped Lily on the shoulder and pointed toward the front of the room, right in front of the stage.

Lily ran over to her secret admirer, none other than August Booth, who greeted her with a kiss on the hand.

Turning her attention back to her date, Emma tucked the rose into Killian’s jacket pocket.

“So do we dance?”

“Yes, but wait thirty seconds.”

“What?” Emma furrowed her eyebrows. “Why do we have to wait?”

“Song’s ending.”

They both clapped as the band finished a song. The next song started playing, but the band’s lead singer wasn’t singing. Emma recognized that voice.

“No way!”

Killian was grinning ear-to-ear.

“It’s Avril!”

“I called in a favor.”

“You did this?” He shrugged, ears tinged red. She stepped up onto her toes and kissed him.

By the time they pulled away, the song was a quarter over. When they finally parted, Killian held out his hand. “Can I have this dance?”

“Of course.”

Freshening up in the bathroom, Mary Margaret was joined at the sink by Tamara.

“I just thought you should know that Neal’s here with me tonight.”

Mary Margaret froze. “Well, he’s all yours, Tam.”

“How generous, Princess.” Tamara checked her makeup and smirked as she turned to face Mary Margaret. “And just so you know, Neal only liked you for one reason. He had a bet going with his friends. He just wanted to get in your pants tonight.”

Mary Margaret dropped her phone into the sink as she stared at Tamara, who strutted out of the bathroom.

Back on the dance floor, Emma and Killian continued to dance.

“How are you so good at this? I usually have two left feet when I dance.”

“You’re a soccer player.”

“I can play soccer. I can’t dance.”

Killian pressed a kiss to Emma’s cheek and pulled her impossibly closer.

“Lucky for you, there’s only one rule for dancing: Pick a partner who knows what he’s doing.”

Emma threw her head back with laughter as Killian’s eyebrows jumped.

Unfortunately, their dance was interrupted by Neal, who grabbed Killian’s shoulder and pulled him aside.

“What the hell is Mary Margaret doing here with that asshat? I didn’t pay you to take out Emma so that some little punk could steal Mary Margaret from under me!”

Emma actually gasped out loud at the revelation. The hurt flashed over her. She confronted Killian. “Nothing in it for you? Yeah, right.” Emma ran from the ballroom, tears already falling. Killian followed.

“Emma, please let me explain.”

Emma turned to him, not caring how she looked mid-crying fit. “You were paid to take me out by the one person I truly hate. I knew it.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Really? What was it like - a down payment now and then a bonus for sleeping with me?”

“No. No, I didn’t care about the money, okay? I cared-” he sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “I cared about you.”

She stared him down for a minute, neither of them talking. She shook her head. “You are so not who I thought you were.”

Neal went straight up to David, flaring with anger, and punched him in the nose. David fell to the ground.

“Oh, come on. Get up, you wuss.”

Neal turned around to leave, just in time to be socked in the jaw by Mary Margaret.

“What the hell, Mary Margaret! I have a modeling gig tomorrow!”

“That’s for making my date bleed.” She punched him in the nose. “That’s for my sister.” She kneed him in a particularly sensitive male area. “And that’s for me.”

Watching Neal rolling on the ground, Mary Margaret helped David up, asking him, “are you okay?”

Despite the blood flowing from his nose, he grinned, answering honestly, “never better.”

Emma was listening to music in her room when Mary Margaret walked in with a mug.

“Hot chocolate and cinnamon.”

Emma took the mug. “Thanks.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come to lunch with David and me?”

“I’m sure.”

“It’ll be fun,” she gently nudged Emma with her elbow.

“It’s fine, Mary Margaret. I promise.”

“I’m sorry I dragged you to prom. And everything with Killian. You’re miserable because of me.”

Emma took both of her earbuds out. “It’s not because of you. It’s because of Killian and Neal. And I’m glad I went. Now I know.”

“Well, I really appreciate that you went last night. It means a lot to me.”

“I’m glad you had a good night.”

The girls were interrupted by a knock on the front door. “That’s probably David.”

“Go, Mary Margaret. Have fun, okay?”

Mary Margaret nodded as she slowly left Emma’s room.

Emma’s next guest was her father, who came in basically as soon as her sister left.

“So tell me about the prom. You seemed pretty upset when you came home.”

“It wasn’t all bad, I guess. Parts of it were fun.”

Leo made himself comfortable on the bean bag chair on Emma’s floor. “Which parts?”

“The part where Mary Margaret beat the crap out of this guy.”

“Mary Margaret did what?”

“Are you upset I rubbed off on her?”

“No. Impressed, actually.”

Emma was thrown off by her father’s approval.

“You know, when you moved in with us, Emma, your walls were up pretty high. Over the years, you let them down and opened up to us. Then your mother died, and you closed yourself off again. You haven’t been the same since the accident. But these last few weeks, you’ve been almost happy.” Emma took a sip of her cocoa. “You don’t tell me much these days, but whatever was going on, I liked seeing you smile again.”

“I’m sorry, Dad. It’s just - everyone I’ve ever loved left me. I was abandoned as a baby, the one family I felt a part of before yours gave me back, and then Mom died. I just didn’t want to feel like that again. But now-” Emma sighed.

“Emma,” Leo started, “why do you think I refused to let your sister date? I wanted to protect her from that. You know, I still don’t know how to deal with it sometimes.”

Emma looked at her father, feeling an understanding for the first time in years.

“But I promise, Emma, your sister and I aren’t going anywhere.”

“You can’t guarantee that.” Emma wiped a tear falling down her cheek.

“I know. But-”

“I know.” Emma smiled at her father before putting her mug down and hugging him. “I’m sorry about the last three years.”

“Oh, Emma. No. There’s nothing to be sorry for.” Leo stood up to leave, things cleared up between them for the first time in years. “Whatever has you feeling down again, I hope it gets worked out.”

“Me too.”

“I assume everyone has found the time to complete their sonnets,” Mr. Pendragon opened class. “Anyone brave enough to read theirs aloud?”

Every student in the room tried to avoid eye contact with Mr. Pendragon so they wouldn’t be called on.

“Anyone?”

Emma slowly raised her hand. “I’ll do it.”

Killian’s head jerked up, and Mr. Pendragon expected the worst.

Emma grabbed her notebook and went to the front of the room. Opening it to her bookmarked page, she started reading, keeping her voice as monotone as her emotion would allow.

“I hate the way you talk like that and the way your hair stands up. I hate the way you drive my car. I hate it when you stare. I hate your big dumb jacket and the way you read my mind. I hate you so much it makes me sick. It even makes me rhyme.” Emma paused, then continued, slowly feeling the emotions bubbling over. She took a deep breath. “I hate the way you're always right. I hate it when you lie. I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry.” Emma wiped her eyes and continued, crying in front of the whole class. “I hate it when you're not around and the fact that you didn't call. But mostly, I hate the way I don't hate you - not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.” Fully crying and not able to cope, Emma clutched the notebook to her chest and took off out the classroom, not risking a look at Killian.

After school that day, Emma walked to her car, more than ready to go home after the day she had. She opened the door of her car to put her backpack on the seat, and she was met with a brand-new guitar. She threw her backpack into the backseat and pulled the guitar out.

“No way!”

“Nice, huh?” Emma swung around to see Killian smirking behind her.

“Yeah! Is this- is this for me?”

“Aye. I thought you could use it, you know, when you start your band. I also may have talked to your sister. She said your mum used to play.” He talked to her sister for her?! Emma wasn’t sure what was more shocking - the fact that he spoke to her sister for intel or that her sister kept the whole thing a secret. “Besides, I had some extra cash. You know, some asshole paid me to take out a really great girl.” He closed her car door and leaned back against it.

Emma couldn’t quite keep from smiling. “Is that right?”

“Yeah,” he scratched the spot behind his ear. “But I screwed up. I - well, I fell for her.”

Both of them blushed at the confession.

“Really?”

“Don’t you know, Emma? It’s always been you.” She balanced the guitar against the side of her car before grabbing the lapels of his leather jacket and pulling him to her, kissing him hard.

He pulled away but kept his face within mere inches of hers. “It’s not every day you find a girl who will sprain her wrist to get you out of detention.”

“Oh, god. You were never supposed to know about that.” She laughed anyway. He peppered her face with kisses - her cheek, her chin, her jaw, her nose. She pushed his head away when he got back to her lips. “You can’t just buy me a guitar every time you screw up, you know?”

“I know. But there’s always drums and bass, and maybe even one day a tambourine.” He kissed her as her grin grew.

She broke the kiss apart again. “And don’t just think you can-”

He shut her up with a kiss. And this time, neither one pulled away.

#captain swan secret santa #captain swan secret santa 2018 #csss 2018 #csss #downeystarkjr #so sorry #i hope you like it #10 things i hate about you

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panticwritten · 6 years

Text

In-Between Collection #1 Scene 5

My Problem

Table of contents!

All of my writing!

What are the In-Between Collections?

This one takes place right after I finished daydreaming Lockdown, when I was super focused on writing it rather than letting myself daydream further at all.

Word count: 1090

@asinwolves @ava-burton-writing @infinitelyblankpage @no-url-ideas-tho @marigoldwritesthings @jade-island-lives @ravenpuffwriter@breakeven2007 @spirit-wizard-nerd @steakfryday @alextriestowritestuff@cataclystr0phe @papayawrites @perringwrites@davidvalencia323@fluffpiggy

Content warnings:

Manipulation?

Stated food insecurity

And that concludes the first In-Between Collection! Solitary will start coming up on July 27th at 7pm PST.

If you like what I do here, maybe consider buying me a Ko-fi or checking out my Patreon! I love being able to put so much out for free, but this would be a great way to show support and also see cool new content!

May 16th, 2016

Jezebeth - The Demon

This movie isn’t what I was expecting.

I mean, it’s a doll. You see a doll in a movie labeled horror, and it’s supposed to be a ghost. It was supposed to be a ghost or a demon—I’m a demon, I’m an expert here.

Jokes on me, now I can’t move because The Human can’t process their fears on their own time.

“Well, now I know you aren’t them.”

The only use of the actual living doll/statue/??? in the room is to distract me from the fucking mess rattling The Collective’s shared focus. Kane lounges on the other side of the couch, and he doesn’t look ready to get up any time soon.

I level a gaze at the facade of ease he’s fronting. As far as I know, he’s been trailing behind The Human and the face of The Collective for a few weeks. He wants them back on payroll.

If not them, it sounds like any of us will do at this point.

Not wavering, I tighten my fist until the nails dig deep into my palm.

He winces at the cracks spiderwebbing from the grip I have on his neck. The cold concrete of his ‘skin’ is harder to break than I expected, but it obviously has its limits. The snap of a fissure running up the side of his face proves that, as does the overdramatic, pained sigh he releases.

Paying no mind to pressure on his throat, of course. You have to be alive to need to breathe.

“So, that’s a no. Or should I leave you on the ‘maybe’ list?”

He waves a hand in front of his chest and my hold on him slips away.

I automatically pause the movie and face him completely.

“You shouldn’t be able to do that.” It comes out like an accusation, and I guess it sort of is.

He shrugs, sharing a brief laugh—either with me or himself, I’m not sure. “I shouldn’t do a lot of things I do.”

That was temporal shit. Cube ‘magic.’ Messing with things just on virtue that it’s not real. It’s something The Collective specializes in. Something natural for the ones created here. Acceptance that all of this is fake is easy for us, we already knew that.

Kane’s old as fuck, probably strayed miles away from who he was before The Human stumbled into his character online, but he’s not from here. The list of outsiders that act completely at ease with not being real could fill pages of one of our journals.

The ones that take advantage of that could be counted on one hand.

“What do you want with The Human?” I ask. “What’s the job you want them for?”

He bares his teeth in a grin, and the instincts of the human body I’m sitting in diverge from my own again. Anger, or fear, something wrong pools in my chest, and I have to shake my head to keep from letting it muddy my thoughts.

It takes a second to break through the cognitive dissonance and catch up with what he’s saying.

“You know, this is kind of a long term gig. She can’t drop in for a day and call it good.” Either he doesn’t hear my growl or he doesn’t deem it worthy of a response. “We’ve got some slips asking for her specifically, and we aren’t in the business of turning down paying customers just because someone doesn’t wanna do the work.”

“They aren’t stable enough to add something like this to their plate.” I’m pleased at how amicable that comes out. “They’re a mess of tape and string as it is.”

He shakes his head and makes that same waving gesture, but I don’t feel anything accompanying it other than a tut.

“That kid’s stronger than any of you think. You’ll see what I mean pretty damn quick.”

—-

“Some friends.”

“Wh—”

Ink scratches across the page, breaking off an unfinished sentence and cutting through the lines above it. I sigh and close the journal, the heel of my hand already pressing into my eyes.

“They’re all telling me off, treating you like some glass figure on a pedestal. You might as well be on display in that cage of yours.”

“I’m really not in the mood today, Kane,” I murmur. “I can’t take this as endearing. Not right now.”

I push out of the chair, wincing at the chorus of popping joints.

“‘The Scientist’ says you’re too sentimental. The mystery girl calls you short-sighted. All of your little boyfriends want to save you, which is a joke. Even this demon thinks you’re just ‘a mess of tape and string.’”

And that’s Jezebeth’s voice, tacked on the end.

I stare at a blurred panel of wall, stationary with a steadying hand splayed on the desk. I know what he’s doing. He used to pull this shit all the time, told me I wasn’t up to snuff when he thought I might hesitate or resist a job.

Spite is easier than duty.

But he won’t find any of that here. I don’t have any reason to be loyal to the Scouts anymore. I’m not surprised that the others don’t think I’m capable of the kind of work they ask for. They weren’t there, not really, they just see the edges and the silhouette.

I’m not mad.

I’m just so tired.

I’m tired of being stuck in the Room for weeks at a time. I’m tired of everyone acting like I think I’m better than them—especially when I’m doing the clerical work they want to forget about. I’m tired of walking by the Breaking Furnace door. I’m tired of thinking about what Connor might be doing while the me in that universe gets worse and worse.

I’m tired of school. Of people, of my parents, of missing lunches, of not having food at home the two fucking days out of the week I don’t have anywhere else to go. I’m tired of my head not shutting up.

I’m tired of being so fucking exhausted all the time.

Maybe I am a little mad.

It doesn’t look like Kane’s going anywhere anytime soon. He’s not going to let up, that’s never been in his repertoire. He’ll keep going until I take the job or someone else does.

I can’t let someone else do it. I know Kane. I can deal with him and the rest of the bureaucratic nonsense the Scouts bury everyone in.

This is my problem.

I sigh.

“I’ll take the job.”

“Excellent.”

#writing #madd #maddart #my writing #the cube #in between collections #sawyer #the demon #the collective #karl #the end #moving on #the next in between collection is probably going to be longer actually #but the other three will be really fucking short #because i daydreamed those ones in like two weeks each

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