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peppersonironi · 3 years

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Duke Thomas VS The "Good Child" Stereotype Chapter Three

Wooo! Chapter Two (not including the prologue) is up now for my @dukethomasbigbang fic! Today's art is by @a-sketchy-character and you can find the glorious piece HERE

thx again to my betas @queerbutstillhere & @theycallme-ook

Today has a special thanks to @batgirls-appreciation who dropped out as a beta, but this chapter couldn't exist without her!

Summary:

Duke pursed his lips, not quite sure why Cass had come down to the basement, only to look into his soul, shrug, and leave. But that didn’t matter right now. As Bruce would say, “The mission comes first.”

Read on Ao3

Duke frowned down at his empty pad of paper, trying to brainstorm. It had been a mere twelve hours since the failed Rick Roll (though, the Rick Roll itself wasn’t a fail. Duke would be daydreaming about the chaos for years to come), and the day shift bat was itching for a way to make up for it.

Alas, the creative juices were not flowing that day. Duke had tried everything - taking a walk, training, meditation, writer’s sprint, and even resorting to watching prank compilations on YouTube. But nothing worked. So, he found himself watching the target Bat - Bruce - in his “natural habitat.”

Also known as the living room, mid lecture.

“But I don’t know what I did!” Tim pleaded desperately, trying to convey to Bruce his confusion.

Bruce shook his head. “No, you do, Tim. Dick told me you all will appeal to my affection to get out of the consequences for your actions -” wow, Duke remembered Dick using that exact tactic just yesterday, and it worked - “So I will not allow you to shirk the punishment.”

Tim groaned. “This is tyranny! I’m an emancipated minor, I don’t need to deal with this.”

“Actually, yes you do. You will be doing chores for Alfred for the next two weeks, and you aren’t allowed to run off to Mount Justice.”

“Then at least tell me what I did wrong!” Tim cried, throwing his hands up in the air. Bruce rubbed his temples, then glanced briefly at Duke.

“You know what you did, and how it affected those around you. And you’re grounded because of it. No room for arguments. Now go work on the sprinklers, Alfred has mentioned they’ve been finicky.”

Tim scoffed and stalked out, soon after followed by Bruce.

Duke considered relocating as well - he couldn’t very well observe Bruce if said wild furry wasn’t present. But something about that conversation that sent a light shiver up Duke’s spine, some small spark of inspiration.

An idea began to form in his mind, and Duke smiled slowly.

*****

“For all Bruce’s waxing poetic on the merits of high tech stuff, this pipe organization is seriously ancient,” Duke muttered under his breath as he glanced from the blueprints he had secured to the mess of pipes and spigots and nozzles in front of him.

Though to be fair, this wasn’t the Batcave. Duke was in the basement of Wayne Manor - yes, he was just as surprised to find they actually had one of those that wasn’t dedicated to the dark and mystique training of Gotham’s Protectors. And impromptu Mario Kart challenges, because as Tim had once told Duke “We all know that’s the real reason Bruce got a giant computer setup.”

Duke cursed softly under his breath when he dropped a wrench that began to clang around in the messy cage of metal. He set the blueprints aside atop the gallons of paint he had chosen, and reached around and down to get the wrench. When he came back up, he found himself face to face with his sister Cassandra.

Oh shit, Duke thought, as he tried to figure out how to cover for what he was doing in the plumbing of the Manor.

Cass squinted at him and, not for the first time, Duke felt like he was an onion trapped beneath her gaze, slowly being peeled back layer by layer till the young woman before him knew every little detail about him. Every thought or plan he ever had.

Duke began to sweat, unable to keep his panic under wraps. Cass was scarier than Bruce, that was just a fact.

Cass tilted her head a fraction of an inch, and Duke thought he was a dead man. But, much to his relief and confusion, Cass shrugged and turned. She walked lightheartedly out of the basement and to the stairs, whistling tunelessly as she went.

Duke pursed his lips, not quite sure why Cass had come down to the basement, only to look into his soul, shrug, and leave.

But that didn’t matter right now. As Bruce would say, “The mission comes first.”

*****

As all members of the Wayne family knew, the Library was one of the best places, period. Aside from the living room which was always a mess of pillows, bean bags, inflatable dinosaurs, spare semi-automatic weaponry and knives, the Library was the most personal room in the expansive home that was the Manor. Sure, it was cleaner and home to fewer surprise nerf gun fights, but It still had an air of warmth about it. It was the place that they would go to to rest after a difficult patrol. Where you could find Jason reading some book in a corner, Tim busy with WE work at the large table, Damian trying to teach Alfred the Cat and Titus to read picture books, Cass and Steph trying to be subtle about making out (though to be fair that was only half the time, other times Cass was working on reading with Steph helpfully giving her guidance). Dick would always be trying to decide what to read and but he would never actually succeed, Bruce would sit in his tall armchair in the corner overlooking every small detail of his children with a not-quick-smile-but-pretty-darn-close on his face.

Duke himself also had his own spot that he would work on writing poetry, or just surf Tumblr. It was a window seat at the far side of the library which was technically big enough for three people, but Duke had a strict policy that it was his and his alone and no he totally wasn’t bullied by Cass that one time to snuggle. Why on Earth would you ever consider such a thing?

It was in this spot now that Duke was situated, though he was not alone. Titus - yes, Damian’s dog - was draped across his lap. Now, Duke didn’t mean to steal his little brother’s pets, but it just happened. Titus was in need of snuggles or belly rubs when Damian was away with Jon or on patrol at night, and Duke just happened to be the only one that said canine could bully into granting him.

Thankfully, like all bats were, Duke was a multi-tasker. He wasn’t put off by having to scratch a dog behind the ears whilst simultaneously checking the twelve blinking dots on his laptop screen that represented his family members.

Duke stared intensely at the diagram of the Manor as all the dots slowed down and finally stayed in their predetermined positions. Huh, Tim was right. Stalking family members did pay off!

The dots suddenly stopped blinking, and Duke snapped out of his self congratulations. It was go time . He switched windows, then quickly pulled out his phone and pressed a button.

There were several screams that echoed throughout the ancient halls, those screams spoke of terror and surprise, and passed along the message that something was very, very wrong in the world. The status quo had been broken, and there was no returning from this.

Duke smirked down at his computer, where a dozen different squares displayed camera footage of the real time happenings of the Manor. Said footage was showing several members of Duke’s family drenched in paint. The same paint that Duke had meticulously divided and poured into the ceiling sprinkling system that the Manor had for some totally-not-plot-related reason. The same paint which had been primed and ready to be sprayed out of the spigots coating each bat with the perfectly calculated, even layer.

The paint had just finished being deployed, and yet several people were for some reason trying to fight it off like it was an attacker. Duke noticed that the swinging of bo staffs, AK-47’s and katanas were altogether unsuccessful. Honestly, the people who were standing completely still in shock, or who were trying to shake off the paint were having much better luck.

But then everyone finally realised that they weren’t being sprayed anymore, and a collective sigh spread out across the Manor. The onslaught was done, and they could finally gather together and grab the pitchforks to hunt down the responsible party.

It was then that the glitter was deployed.

The chaos immediately multiplied tenfold, and the screams sounded up again. The air was filled with the sparkly dust that was way too thin to swat away. (No, Duke totally didn’t spend extra time researching to find the world’s finest glitter)

Duke was outright laughing at this point, so hard that he almost fell off the window seat. Titus barked suddenly, and Duke sobered enough to get back upright and watch the finishing up of the chaos. He had to admit, this felt wonderful. If he had to describe his current state of thrill in two words, he would have admitted that he felt altogether too close to the Hellmo Meme.

Unfortunately, Duke was not Stephanie, and ran out of glitter eventually. The vents stopped blasting the film of fairy dust, and the bats were given a reprieve.

Though the break was short lived, as just then, Bruce’s loud bellow sounded throughout the giant house.

“ALL OF YOU GET IN HERE!”

Duke chuckled as he scooched Titus over and set his laptop to the side so he could get up. This was all working perfectly! He’d arrive at Bruce's interrogation completely free from all paint or glitter, which would immediately prove his guilt. And if that didn’t work, then he supposed he could outright confess. But that wasn’t the point of this. The point was for Bruce to come to the conclusion on his own.

He walked down the hall, completely carefree. So happy and confident in his own abilities that he never even noticed that Cassandra’s paint or glitter didn’t go off. That she wasn’t even present where the tracker he had subtly placed on her earlier that day said she was.

*****

Duke hummed to himself as he skipped along the carpet, past the antique vases and random finger paintings, past the drawing rooms and bathrooms, and towards Bruce. All was quiet.

Though that began to trouble Duke, as he got closer to one of the rooms which was very special. It was where Cass had been situated, playing with Selina’s cat Isis, for the past hour. Now, Cassandra was quiet, sure. But not that quiet. And besides, wouldn’t the cat be screeching right about now? Cass didn’t seem like the person to give a nerve hit to an animal just because it was being loud ( cough Jason cough ).

He slowly entered the room and looked around, but was surprised to find it completely empty. Not just of girl and cat, but of paint and glitter too.

“You were mistaken.”

Duke whirled around to find Cass sitting in an armchair, wrapped in shadows, and stroking Isis in a manner not altogether different from that of an Evil Mastermind™.

“Uh…” Duke replied, “about what?”

Cass smirked, and Duke felt a shiver run up his spine. “Actions have consequences. ”

Duke frowned. Wait, what? He glanced around again, trying to figure out what Cass meant. On a surface level he understood, but there was something about the way Cass was eyeing him that told him something else was up.

The only thing he could find that was out of the ordinary, however, was the camera he had placed just yesterday. Huh, now that he thought about it, he was at just the right angle to see it. Which meant he was in direct view of the camera itself. Pretty darn to close to where he had been planning Cass would stand, actually.

Then a faint spitting noise came from above him.

Oh.

*****

Duke trudged forlornly into the room where the rest of the bats - except Cassandra, who had disappeared after the glitter had deployed onto Duke - had gathered. He was one of the last to arrive, muttering curses under his breath, so all eyes were on him as he opened the door and joined them.

Though that also meant that Duke could see them. He had to admit, that as disappointed as he was, it was still hard to keep a grin from spreading across his face. Boy, he had done a great job with color coordination, hadn’t he?

Bruce was front and center, covered in a dark gray paint which had the sheen of yellow glitter. Dick had black paint completely covering him (much more than Duke planned. Did Dick roll in the stuff?) along with blue glitter. Jason had both red paint and glitter on him. Tim had started off with a lighter colored paint - this time red - and then the look was finished by black glitter. Damian looked like a small Christmas tree in his green paint and red glitter. Harper had blue paint then covered in purple glitter, both of which were the exact shades of her hair. Duke wasn’t a monster ; he knew how to match colors.

The cousins - both honorary and actually - had also been present. Bette had been appropriately targeted with a flaming orange and gold combination. Kate had black paint and, instead of red, Duke had picked a rainbow glitter for her. From the slight glint in her eye, Duke supposed he had chosen correctly. Jean-Paul had been doused in yellow paint and red glitter, and he honestly looked like a very large and human shaped version of his sword. Luke was covered in silver paint and an electric blue glitter.

Bruce, however, didn’t give Duke a second glance, covered in yellow paint and black glitter (which had been meant for Cass, but honestly, it fit Duke quite well), though he was.

“Good, now we just have to wait for Steph,” Tim remarked, rolling his eyes.

Duke frowned. “What about Cass? She’s here too.”

Everyone gave Duke a weird look. “Uh, no she isn’t. She’s been hanging out with Selina and Babs all weekend.”

“Then your intel is wrong,” Duke countered. “She was just here! I planned on her being here!”

The silence in the room was palpable. Before, where there had been bickering and accusations, the quiet had taken over. Everyone stared at Duke with suspicion in their eyes.

Finally, Duke thought, sighing in relief.

Bruce opened his mouth about to question Duke’s statement when the doors to the room banged open.

“What’s up, Bitches? The Waffle Queen has arrived and looks as fabulous as ever!”

Duke stared, completely amazed that she actually seemed to like the purple on purple combo Duke had picked for her. Oh, yeah, now that he thought about it made perfect sense that Steph was the only one to like this.

“Wow, whoever did this really got my colors right!" Steph continued as she waltzed in and posed in front of everyone, her hip cocked and arm thrown up dramatically.

Bruce’s eyes narrowed, and he began to growl at her. “This is not funny.”

Steph pouted. “What do you mean? I sure think it is!”

Oh boy, she didn’t notice she was digging her own grave, did she? From the looks of the other bats, they shared Duke’s sentiment.

“Stephanie Brown, are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Stephanie smirked. “Yup! I look way better than you, you old fur- hey wait! Are you blaming me ?!”

Bruce glared even harder, and Stephanie started to protest, claiming that she was but an innocent victim of these pain-filled proceedings! It was not her fault! Nor was it her fault that she happened to get colors that she liked better than everyone else.

Bruce refused to hear what she said, and told her to go get changed. “You will be cleaning up this whole mess, and no patrolling until it’s done.”

Bruce turned and stalked out, and Steph was left speechless - for once - in the hall. She backed away, seeing the angry stares from the others. The only one who didn’t seem mad at her, was Duke himself. He opened his eyes wide, conveying pity. “I’m sorry,” he mouthed silently.

Instead of being reassuring, however, Steph squinted in suspicion. Oh shit, that probably hadn’t been the best move.

Just moments after Steph left, Jason threw up his hands. “Okay, who wants to have a water gun fight to clean off?”

There were several cheers of assent, but Duke quickly made his own escape at that time. He honestly wasn’t in the mood to get splashed in the face with water. Now was not the time for fun, as the failed prank still hung over him.

Now was the time for plotting.

*****

“Okay, but why on earth do you have a fully functioning sprinkler system in every room?”

“Yeah, Bruce, even for you that’s paranoid! What caused you to think that was necessary?”

“You.”

#duke thomas #duke thomas big bang #batfam #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #bruce wayne #dtbb21 #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #kate kane #jean paul valley #luke fox #bette kane

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writingscififantasy · 6 years

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Writing Platforms and Apps

Disclaimer: Alright, I know this isn’t strictly sci-fi or fantasy-themed, BUT. Too bad, this goes out for everyone who writes, ever.

So, writing is hard. Full stop. Writing is difficult, and irritating, and oftentimes downright infuriating- and as much as we writers adore it, we could all use some help, right?

Enter some tools of the trade- writing platforms and apps! Every writers uses something to write- be it the traditional methods of pens and notebooks to brainstorm, regular MS Word programs, online writing websites, or fancy programs like Scrivener for plotting- and all of them have their merits and downfalls. There are a ton of platforms upon which one can write. There’s no way I could get through all of them in one sitting, let afford some of the fancier ones out there (curse you, fundamental necessities!), but for this post I wanted to discuss the 4 programs that I use (and have been using for more than a year) and think are especially helpful not only for writing anything, but for...wait for it...NaNoWriMo endeavors! Woooh, it’s time for Camp NaNo!!

Ahem.

So, let’s begin!

First up to bat is...Writeometer!!

This one here is an app available for free- yes, FREE, one of my favorite words right there- that is designed specifically for helping you track your writing progress. You can enter as many projects as you like, decide on your word count goals and your preferred deadline to reach that goal (perfect for NaNo!), and it will calculate how many words per day you’ll need to write- and, bonus, you can set subtle reminders to pop up at certain times to tell you it’s time to write. Even more bonuses- this app has tons of other features that are fun to use, including a writing log to record how you’re doing, graphs to show your progress, a list of stats pertaining to each project (for instance, your averages per day/week/month, your writing streaks, your best writing days, etc), a nifty little toolbox with a dictionary/thesaurus/word of the day/random words generator, AND a writing sprints timer that rewards you guavas each time you write for 25 minutes. Fun fact, guavas can be virtually exchanged on the app for prizes you set- mine include things like, “3 guavas to eat a cookie!” and “10 guavas to bang head onto desk while yelling!”. Great stuff!

Next up- another app I use very often is JotterPad!

This one is very simple- while Writeometer was meant to deal with the nitty gritty statistics and tracking of writing, JotterPad is just a clean, simple mobile platform for writing. Nothing more, nothing less. You can create new documents and folders, and organize them any which way you desire- which, in my anxious writer brain, is wonderful- and if you want, add your Google Drive to it for backup so nothing is ever lost. Each folder and document is automatically made with different font colors, which I think is a nice touch, and every document has options for a viewing mode (closer spacing, no keyboard, cleaner look) and an edit mode (allows you to write, shows spelling errors, wider spacing for easier typing). Also in each doc is a dictionary and thesaurus option, a dark screen option for writing at night or sensitivity to light, and a short collection of stats for the doc (word count, character count, reading time, etc). This is all in just the basic app- there is a pro version that brings in other cool features like different writing fonts and document formats, but it costs money and I’ve never had any need for it.

Onto the third program I like to use- myWriteClub!

This one I just discovered a little while ago, courtesy of a fellow NaNo buddy, but I love it. The site is still in beta, so feel free to jump on the early bandwagon! This is a website, not an app (although here’s hoping they make an app for it...), but it’s 100% free and only requires an email address to make an account. The whole site is oriented towards writing sprints, and they make it fun- for NaNo and Camp NaNo, you can make a private sprint that only people with the link can join up on, and for anyone else there’s a global sprint going 24/7. What are these “sprints”, you might ask? Writing sprints last 25 minutes, and start every half hour- and on this site, you can watch your friends word count meter fill up in real time. Don’t worry- nobody can see your writing, only your word count. It makes NaNo writing sprints wayyyy easier, trust me. I’d recommend setting up a Dropbox account for all your writing on the site to be automatically uploaded to- there’s only one window you can write it, and there’s no saving documents on site- which I find is actually good, because there’s no getting lost.

Now, last and certainly not least- my FAVORITE writing site, 4thewords!

Okay, I’ll try to restrain myself here. I’ve been using 4thewords for over a year now, and I ADORE it. That being said, I will mention that this is also a fairly new site, still working out some of the bugs and getting updated all the time- I’ve never had a problem, but I wanted to mention it. This site is geared towards making writing fun, which it accomplishes by turning it into a game- a game with adorable monsters. Basically, you have a little avatar (whom you can edit and outfit as you please) and a map of different places you can unlock as you progress- each location has different monsters, which you can “fight” by writing a certain amount of words in a specific amount of minutes. For instance, to defeat the Wignow you must write 250 words in 30 minutes. To defeat the Pester, 500 words in 50 minutes; the Mawt, 1,400 words in 210 minutes. 4thewords is set up like an actual game- for each monster defeated, you get little prizes that you can trade in at the marketplace, and you can boost your fighting prowess by making or buying armor and weapons. There are also different missions you can run- namely things like, “defeat 20 of XXX monster”, after which you get a bigger prize.

I mean, look at this little monster. LOOK AT IT.

Even better things! I know, I know, I’ll wrap it up quick- 4thewords runs lots of different events, including Love Week (for Valentine’s Day), Tico Week (for Costa Rica Independence Day), Winter Wonderland (for Christmas and winter holidays), annnnnd...NaNoWriMo!!! Each event has special missions and monsters to fight, and has special prizes. There’s one going on right now, actually, for Camp NaNo, and an even bigger one in November for the main event. Also, 4thewords has a Read section where you can post your writing, if so desired- and every year so far, there’s been a writing contest with real prizes for people who post their writing projects. Not to mention, I’ve spoken with the creator themselves when I changed my account email, and they were so, so polite and accommodating. The only downfall to this site is that yes, it costs $4USD a month to subscribe- but, with everything it’s got going on, from active forums to incredible graphics (the ART, you guys, holy sh*t) and an lengthy, intricate ongoing storyline, I’m okay with the cost and I think it makes sense. Plus, bonus- there’s a month long free trial upon making an account, so if you’re not sure about it, you can try it out for free!

Alright, I know that was a lot of info all at once. I want to say right here, right now that I have not at all been asked to review on these sites or make a post about them in any way- this post is purely my opinions, with no coercion or bribing or whatever else. This is just me, ranting- I mean, sharing- some of the writing platforms that I, personally, find fun and helpful for me in hopes that someone else finds it useful.

And hey, if you’ve ever used one of these platforms, tell me your thoughts! Or even better, send me your favorite apps and/or programs- maybe I’ll make a compilation post of them, who knows. Questions about them? Hit me up.

(Bonus: LOOK AT THIS LITTLE STINKER, I CAN’T EVEN FUNCTION)

Okay, I’m done, I’m done.

#camp nano #camp nano april 2018 #writing #writing blog #4thewords #jotterpad #writeometer #mywriteclub #not even joking guys i adore 4thewords an ungodly amount #writing help #nanowrimo #happy easter all my easter-celebrating friends!

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killiancygnus · 7 years

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Serendipitous Melody 13/?

Summary: Everyone has dreams. You might dream of becoming an astronaut or teacher, or you might want to become a doctor and save as many lives you can. Emma Swan’s childhood dream was being a singer. But with life getting in the way and never finding the courage to overcome her fears, she never had a chance to follow it. That is until a little push from her friends lead her to cash on an opportunity; and, who knows, she might even get more than what she’d wished for.

Rated: T

Word count: ~4.1k

A/N: I’m back!! Exams season finished earlier than thought so here it is: a new chapter ready for you. And a pretty long one too *throws confetti around*. The plan is to write the next chapter before going on vacation but I guess we’ll see if the muse likes the idea too or not. Anyway, comments make my day so if you liked this chapter or if you’ve just started reading this story, don’t be shy! I’m a sweet potato you can ask around :’). Seriously, I love being shouted at. I am needy.

As always, thanks to @the-reason-to-sail-home and @londonsbridge, my wonderful friends and betas, for helping me with the editing and to all the CS Writers’ Hub ladies for all the sprints and brainstorming sessions. A special thank you goes to @mahstatins too for helping me deal with this beast

Tagging some friends: @villains-happy-ending, @stardusted-nymph, @allisonchameron, @kmomof4, @hencethebravery, @katie-dub, @captainwiley, @irishswanff, @thejollypirate, @dassala, @imhookedonaswan, @ofshipsandswans and @legendofthephoenixcs

If you want to be tagged too let me know :)

Links: Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 / AO3

After Emma’s performance on Saturday, time passed in a bit of a blur. She understood why Killian had decided to vote for Elsa - the apologetic subtle glances he’d directed her were pretty self-explanatory - but that didn’t mean it hurt any less.

Killian had tried to talk to her after they were done with shooting, but with all the people busy with their tasks buzzing around them, she just bid him goodnight with a tight smile on her lips. He didn’t try to contact her again after that, at least, not too soon. She was almost expecting to get a text from him the morning after, but apparently, he just knew she needed time to be by herself. On Sunday, she had spent two solid hours stressing about why he hadn’t reached out to her yet. When twenty-four hours later he finally did, she just ignored his text for a while. He’d wanted to know if she would have liked to see the show with him that night, but she wasn’t sure if she was ready to face him again so soon, not by spending the evening with him anyway. So, when Emma got a call from her boss that day giving her a new case to work on, she let out a sigh of relief. Bringing her phone back from her ear, she quickly typed a reply to Killian.

E: I’m sorry but I can’t make it tonight. Gotta work.

Considering how much time had passed since he sent her the text, she was surprised to see the three dots appearing under her message.

K: No problem, love.

K: Please, be careful.

K: I know you are more than capable of defending yourself, but if you need any help, even just company during stakeouts, remember I’m just a phone call away.

Emma rolled her eyes at the screen. Always the gentleman, that man.

E: I always am and thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.

Days passed without any improvement on their situation. She would always find an excuse every time he suggested spending time together outside the studios. Even when they were there rehearsing the duet the mood was far from the one that there used to be during their lessons. And he missed his friend, his Swan. The last time he had seen her like that it was when she had been chasing that poor excuse of a man, Felix. And he was scared, so, so scared that had happened to her again, that the person Emma told him she was supposed to catch had hurt her either physically or psychologically just as Felix did.

As he came to that realization, blood drained from his face. He just hoped the reason she had been so distant lately was that she was mad at him, because he really didn’t want to see her so broken and fragile ever again. He just couldn’t.

“Hey, Jones!” A voice called behind him as he was finishing collecting his stuff after rehearsals with both Emma and Elsa and a long day at the studios.

“Good morning Lady Bell,” he greeted her, only giving a brief glance in the general direction of the door. She was standing on the threshold, her side laying against the doorframe, wearing her characteristic old, faded Pink Floyd’s tee and with a messy bun on the top of her head.

Tink wrinkled her nose, “Don’t call me that.”

“Don’t call me Jones then,” he answered back playfully, as he got closer to her putting a guitar away in the process, “You only do that when you’ve had a few libations and it’s been a while since we both drank that much alcohol.”

“Well, you’ve all been busy lately. We all have.” She said, giving him a weird look as they left the room and walked down the corridor, “I was talking about it with the guys earlier and we decided it’s high time we went out again. You know, like old times.”

Killian rose his eyebrows in surprise, “That sounds lovely.”

“You are game then?” She asked casually, “No pretty blonde to pillage and plunder or whatever you pirate types are up to these days?”

“I- I am,” he stuttered. Did she know about him and Emma? Not that there was a ‘him and Emma’ anyway, but their relationship was much more than what it was supposed to be. And even if it was, how could Tink know anyway? They had been careful. Perhaps someone had told her? Did she see them somewhere? But most importantly, did anyone else know?

“I- There isn’t a- Why are you asking?” Killian finally managed to spit out as he moved his hand up to rub the back of his neck.

Tink eyed him curiously for a moment, taken aback by his reaction. However, she just brushed it off, giving a playful push on his arm as they got outside and walked towards their cars, “I was just joking, Killian. I know I’m the only blonde in your life.”

Killian laughed nervously at that and said, swiftly changing subject, “Have you guys already decided when we’ll go out?”

“If you count ‘someday around next week’ a solid decision then yes,” she joked as they approached her shiny new BMW, “Otherwise…”

“Why does this not surprise me? It’s not like we ever decide to do anything last minute.”

“Of course not, we are responsible people,” Tink snorted, not able to keep a straight face anymore.

“Oh, definitely,” Killian nodded with a grin. He had missed hanging out with his friends. Working on Enchanted while also doing their job as musicians, left all of them with just enough time to spend their time with their significant other and family - if there were any, of course. But he had none of those. No family, not in quite a while, and the woman he was in love with was his not only his best friend, but also a contestant.

He didn’t have the time to dive into the fact that he had just accidentally admitted to himself the depth of his feelings for Emma, because Tink spoke again.

“Don’t tell the others but, you know Killian, I’ve kinda missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” he admitted, caressing her arm before giving her a quick peck on the cheek, “It’s late. Go home, Tink. I’m sure Jefferson is waiting for you.”

“Yeah, he is.” Tink blushed, “Good night, Killian.”

As she sat on the driver’s seat, Killian shut the car door behind her. While the sky tinged pink as the sun set, Killian watched her drive towards the studios’ gates. He may have forgotten what it would feel like coming home to a loved one after a long day at work, but he could feel the joy radiating from her when he mentioned her boyfriend. They’d managed to keep their relationship secret for months, to protect Jefferson daughter, Grace, from the spotlight. And even after she had announced it to the world, Tink made herself clear that she wanted to keep her private life just as it was: private. Everyone understood that, fans and even journalists, so why wouldn’t this work for him and Emma too? If he wanted to keep her in his life - and he certainly did, even if that meant keeping his feelings for her by himself and remaining just friends - then he had to fight for it. She probably didn’t realize it, but just by being herself she was putting him back together, piece by piece, day after day, healing the scars cutting through his heart with only a smile. And he hoped that it was the same for her too.

A week passed and nothing had changed.

She felt a bit childish at holding a grudge for that long over something as trivial as not getting Killian’s vote last week, but it wasn’t that simple. He had been right, after all. Honestly, she was surprised no one - besides Elsa - seemed to notice or question their atypical relationship. But still, it was too risky for them to keep that up. Both their careers (well his career and her future hypothetical one) and their reputations were at stake.

So she avoided him as much as she could. And she felt horrible about it, she really did. She could see the hurt he tried so hard to conceal in his eyes during rehearsals; she could almost hear the disappointment in his voice in all the ‘Oh it’s okay’s and ‘No problem, love’s he texted her whenever she turned him down.

It’s for the best, she used to tell herself. But no matter how many times she repeated those words in her head, keeping her distance from him didn’t get any easier.

Dammit, she was hurting too! She missed her best friend so much it hurt. Yes, she had Ruby and David and Mary Margaret, but it was not the same. Killian could - as he so proudly liked to affirm - read her so easily it was almost scary. And he was as much of an open book as she was for him too.

Rehearsals in particular were absolutely the worst.

There definitely wasn’t any goofing around and never ending fits of laughter. No innuendos (well not many anyway; the man clearly couldn’t restrain himself sometimes), no terrible puns, no babbling incoherently at the mic. They were tense, walking on eggshells around each other both when singing and when discussing their song. And you could hear this new uneasiness between them in their performance too. She knew that. He knew that. But no matter how much they tried, they couldn’t recreate artificially something that wasn’t there anymore. Not without exposing themselves, by baring their souls and forgetting anything had ever happened.

It had been a Monday (and Emma hated Mondays) when, while another fruitless rehearsal came to an end for her, Elsa walked in the room, greeting them both with a warm smile on her lips. After muttering a ‘hello’, both Emma and Killian’s eyes followed her as she plopped on the couch to revise the lyrics of her duet.

“I’ll just -,” Emma started, putting her sheet music back into her bag, eyes focused on everywhere but his, “I’ll just go then.”

She was marching to the door when she heard the soft and quick thuds of Killian’s feet on the parquet flooring right behind her.

“Emma, wait! Could I please have a word with you?” He glanced over his back where Elsa was watching them curiously before adding in a whisper, “In private.”

Not trusting her voice, she nodded, eyes anxiously darting around.

“Thank you, love,” Killian said softly. He then turned around to face Elsa, who tried to fake nonchalance. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Oh, sure! Take your time!” she replied quickly with a shrug, sending Emma a piercing look as if to say ‘We are so gonna talk later, girl’.

Killian opened the door, holding it for Emma as he said, a gesture of his hand following his words, “After you then, Swan.”

As soon as the door closed shut behind them, and after checking that there was no one around in the corridor, he shifted closer, the space between them getting almost nonexistent.

Emma almost choked on a gasp of air. She could feel his breath tingling her nose, and the scent of leather and faintly spiced cologne filled her nostrils.

“Are you alright, love?” he asked, an unreadable expression on his face. “The guy you were chasing, he didn’t hurt you did he? I know you are amazing at what you do and more than capable of defending yourself, but you’ve been distant and the last time I saw you like this…”

As realization dawned on her, a pang of guilt shot into her stomach. He thought the case she had been working on all those days back, the job she never told me she had been done with in a little over a day, had been like Felix’s all over again.

Taking her silence as affirmation, he paled as his eyes turned a steely blue with fury, searched hers frantically, as if he hoped to find there something that would tell him otherwise.

“Killian, calm down,” she told him, and then continued when she saw he was about to counter, “I’m fine. And before you ask me again, he didn’t hurt me, physically or otherwise. I caught him pretty quickly, actually. All it needed was a nice red dress, batting my eyelashes a bit and booting his car.”

Killian relaxed at that, breathing out a relieved giggle, which mixed with Emma’s nervous one.

Biting slightly her lower lip, she spoke again, “You are right though. I haven’t been myself lately, but after last week -” She trailed off, “I know it sounds childish but, even though I understood your reasons, and even though Elsa is a friend, I was a bit mad that you preferred giving your vote to her at first. But then I took a bit of time to think about what you said back then and you were right. We can’t keep this up, it’s just too risky. For the both of us.”

Emma took a deep breath, looking directly at him before lowering her gaze, as she ended her thought with a whisper, “I just… Maybe it’s better if we spend some time apart, Killian.”

“Emma, no…” Dumbfounded, Killian reached for her hand, his tone almost pleading.

Emma pulled it back quickly, but not fast enough to prevent his fingers brushing against hers, sending a spark of electricity running down her spine. Keeping her eyes on her feet, she tightened her grip on her purse in an attempt to give herself some strength. And she then walked past him, an apology barely escaping the prison of her lips; his name dying on the tip of her tongue.

Mondays did indeed suck. If she needed any proof, well, this was it.

Killian hated Wednesdays. He always had, ever since he was a child. If you asked around, most people would tell you that they hated Mondays the most. Even though the events of that week might have made him reconsider, he was still headset on his opinion. Wednesdays were just too far away from both the excitement of the beginning of a new week and from the relief that only the approaching weekend could give. In hindsight, judging by how the week had started for him, he could have predicted that that Wednesday would have been as bad as the previous forty-eight hours, but honestly, he didn’t think things could get any worse than they already were.

He had been so wrong.

It all started when he got a call first thing in the morning from Regina telling him - well, more shouting than telling - that there had been a change of plans and he had to get his “leather-panted ass to the studios and do the damn promotional shoots”. And that’s how he spent hours standing in front of a bright blue screen under a set of bright white lights, as a photographer snapped picture after picture of him, telling him to tilt his head just so and more ridiculous things.

By the time he got home, he barely had the time to shower that his phone went off again. Groaning, he swiped his thumb on the screen of his phone and put it on speaker so that he could freely look for something to wear for dinner with Robin and the girls. Ariel had gotten a reservation in one of those few fancy restaurants that got so popular among celebrities in LA because they wouldn’t allow any paparazzi to snap pictures of their customers while inside. She also invited Belle to tag along, which she happily agreed to.

“Killian! Oh, thank God you answered!” Tink’s exasperated voice came from his phone from where he had dropped it on his bed.

“Good evening, lass.”

“Hey. I need a favor for tonight.”

“Well you know I’m always up to do a favor or two to a beautiful woman like you,” he snickered, putting out of the closet a plain white shirt and a black vest.

“Not like that, you pervert!” She laughed, “There was an emergency at the hospital and Jeff had to go, but his car is at the mechanic so he had to take mine. Could you by any chance give me a lift?”

“Of course. Have you found anyone to watch over Grace yet? Because if not you could try ask Regina. I’m sure the lass will love hanging around with Henry.”

“That’s a great idea! I’ll call her then.”

“If that’s alright with you, I’ll be there in about an hour. How does that sound?” He asked fishing a pair of socks from the drawer.

“Perfect. Thank you, Killian,” Tink said before closing the call.

Killian took a look at the watch and then at the pile of clothes he threw on his bed as he passed a towel on his still damp hair.

Great, he thought, now I have even less time than before.

Surprisingly, both he and Tink managed to arrive just on time.

The place was as posh as he remembered, with black mirror-like walls and soft dim lights illuminating the room, but the food was even better. After some initial awkwardness, Belle fit right in with them, asking questions to them all and listening to Robin’s ridiculous stories (“Remember when a couple of fangirls approached me after one of your concerts Ariel, only to ask me if I could introduce them to Killian?” “Actually I don’t.” “What do you mean you don’t?!”). Killian hadn’t had that much fun since… Well, since the time Emma spent the day - and then the next - with him. He couldn’t forget the spark in her eyes and the way the genuine, happy smile resting on her face seemed to illuminate the room as they watched Disney movies together.

Speaking of Emma, the fact that none of them had asked him about her yet was equally a concern and a relief. Didn’t they really notice anything? Why weren’t they pestering him with questions?

“Mate?” Robin called him, waking him up from his stupor, “Did you hear anything of what she said?”

“Oh, no. I’m sorry. What was the question?”

“I was wondering how Emma was?” Belle asked kindly again, “The show is almost over and I’ve never had the opportunity to actually talk to her. And she always seems so, I don’t know, distant?”

Killian froze.

“She’s truly amazing,” he started after taking a few moments to think what to say and how, “She’s funny, compassionate and, let me tell you, she has a hell of a punch, but she doesn’t trust people easily. It took me a while to gain her trust. Actually, at the beginning we didn’t really get along, but I’m glad we went over that.”

He was so busy weighing up each word before it escaped his mouth, that he didn’t notice the fond smile that appeared on his lips as he talked.

Belle didn’t miss it though and she observed, “You sound like you know her pretty well.”

“Well yes, she’s a friend,” Killian told her right away without thinking. Realizing what he had said, he felt the tips of his ears turning red. “I mean, by now I consider both her and Elsa a friend,” he stammered, trying to explain himself, “But Emma… I’d love to keep her around after all of this will be over, that’s all.”

He tried to ignore the pointed looks both Tink and Robin were giving him, but it was hard with the silence that had fallen after he spoke.

“Maybe we should get going,” Ariel suggested, breaking the silence as she took a glance at the horde of photographers that was starting to form behind the restaurant’s doors.

By the time they got ready to leave though, exiting the building without making much of a scene had been impossible. Killian and Tink were the first to get outside, his hand falling automatically on the lower of her back to guide her through the crowd as Robin followed them shortly with Ariel and Belle. Flashes were going off nonstop, pics were snapped and questions fired at them. It was disorienting and overwhelming.

As soon as both of them got inside the car though, they let out a relieved sigh, before following their friends’ cars out of the parking lot.

During the drive back and the rest of the night until he fell asleep, Killian prayed he wouldn’t wake up to any twisted articles about that night. It had been just a dinner with friends and colleagues, but he had been under the spotlight long enough to know how this world worked. However, a little hope never hurt anyone.

When the next morning he checked his phone though, he groaned. He had been right. Wednesdays did indeed suck more than Mondays.

After getting back home at three in the morning the previous night thanks to a last minute job her boss had put her on, the only thing Emma wanted to do on her conveniently scheduled morning off was sleeping. But of course, she got woken up far too early for her liking by someone banging at her door. Groaning, she took the pillow next to her head and she put it on top of her face to muffle the noise in the vain hope whoever it was would go away.

Suddenly the knocking stopped, only to be followed by the fumbling of keys against the lock.

“Emma, it’s me!” Mary Margaret shouted, closing the door behind her.

Emma sighed and moaned with the voice still rusty from sleep, putting the pillow back in its place, “Lemme sleep!”

“There you are,” her friend exclaimed, unceremoniously entering her bedroom and switching on the lights.

Breathing out another sigh, Emma winched at the sudden change of light.

“What are you doing here Mary Margaret?”

“Have you checked Twitter yet? Because if you haven’t, then just stay away from it. Don’t look at gossip magazines either,” she said quickly.

“I don’t - What..” Emma frowned, confused, “You’ve literally just woken me up, how could I possibly have checked Twitter or anything else? And why should I stay away from the Internet?”

“Oh, right. Well just don’t look okay?”

“No. What is it?” Emma pushed, taking Mary Margaret’s hand and pulling her down to sit with her on the bed.

“It’s about Killian.”

Emma’s eyes widened, taking her phone to check for any messages from him, “Did anything happen? Is he okay?”

“He’s fine Emma, calm down.” She reassured her, putting a hand on her shoulder, “You are going to look anyway, aren’t you?”

Emma just nodded and watched her friend pulling reluctantly her phone from her purse.

“It’s just, you’ve been a bit off in the last few days and you’ve stopped mentioning Killian at all. I don’t know what happened and if you don’t want to tell me I won’t ask, but you seemed pretty close and now with this…” she babbled, finally handing Emma her phone to see.

It was an article on one of those trashy magazines. Big pink flashy letters screamed at her ‘Has the Fairy found her Pirate? Scroll down to find out the latest Enchanted scoop’. There were pictures under that. Lots of them. They were all of Killian and Tink, she dressed in a skintight dark green dress and him in a tux. In some he was helping her out his car, in others, he had his hand on her back as they left a restaurant. There were also older pictures of them talking in the studios’ parking lot and of him kissing her cheek.

“It might be nothing, you know,” Mary Margaret said softly but Emma ignored her.

She skimmed through the article instead, the words barely registering into her head. It said something about the blurry picture of Emma and Killian at the coffee shop being actually a picture of him and Tink since he’d never commented anything on the identity of that woman. It talked about a ‘secret boyfriend’ and how close Tink and Killian always were. Emma felt sick.

“Emma? Are you alright?” Mary Margaret asked, worried by her silence.

No, she wasn’t alright. She was hurt, she was jealous and she was scared because she shouldn’t be feeling like this. He was her friend, nothing more. He couldn’t be anything more. But apparently that wasn’t enough to prevent her from developing feelings for him.

Giving the phone back to Mary Margaret, she just shook her head.

“Oh honey,” she whispered, taking Emma in her arms, “I’m sure there’s an explanation. Everything will be alright.”

Emma had never thought there would be a day worse than Monday, but apparently, it had just turned out that Thursdays were possibly even worse.

#captain swan #cs ff au #cs ff #cs mafia #cs au #my fic #my writing #serendipitous melody #otp:we'll always find the sun #i apologise in advance #well no i don't #*evil laughter*#Fran against words

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