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velvyy · 5 years

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Hey, Rad... Alex... Alexlememe? I know that's the name you used to go by and I know you've kinda disconnected yourself from Viv's fanbase after ZP ended, and I remember your memes and such but I kinda just wanted to get your take on the Hazbin drama since you reblogged the headcanon blog's post on the subject. More or less regarding the issue of her being uncharitable to fans and non-fans alike, plus that one callout post on twitter?

So this is weird. I wasn’t expecting to get asks on the subject since like you said, I’ve generally been disconnected from the fanbase aside from the few reblogs here and there retaining to Hazbin and its more recent developments. But yeah I guess I could give my take on this since I mean.. old fans still follow me. Idk why, but they do!So, really. In regards to that callout post (which is now deleted) I really, really don’t care that much. For one thing, Initially I did because I really hated to see someone be slandered so viciously with inaccurate and uncharitable attacks, but I kinda just stopped because even when I linked the addresses from both Viv, and the Ken dude regarding all the drama mentioned, it was either ignored and resulting in me being called a “pedo sympathizer” or “It wasn’t even an apologyyyyy weh” and like, whatever. I stopped giving a shit.

Terms of the traced animation thing... Lol, ok. I mean homages do exist, and her animation thingy was based on a meme so whatevs.

Anyways,I knew from the very start that the whole “tracing” and “stealing designs” stuff was nonsense since there was an entire like, tumblr drama arc on the issue, and albeit Viv’s post is gone, there’s evidence of legal contracts regarding Jiji and that whole nonsense that was years ago. In regards to her drawing pictures of Blaire White and Shoe… Eh. I mean, yeah, fuck em, but she’s made it clear that she doesn’t support those views anymore, and she wasn’t even really aware of the other things they’d done at that point, and I see no real reason not to believe her because what does lying about that gain her? Yeah her comment on the “blackface” thing if you wanna call it that was dumb as shit, but considering 2016 was a rough year for her in terms of trying to find where she fell in the political sphere, I can relate because I was in the same boat. A lot of sjw cringe comps, shaming feminists, and purposely misgendering transpeople… Not a good time for me either! Course I’ve changed. I went from being a reactionary alt-centrist to an anarchist so. Whether that’s an improvement is up to you.

As for the whole pedo/zoo shit, I really don’t see it. I mean like, look, obviously porn art portraying people fucking feral animals is disgusting right. Not saying it isn’t problematic or anything, but to be fair, she did draw this shit like 8 years ago. I’ve seen worse from even more well-established artists and I don’t see people trying to cancel them? Also, the art was suggestive for one thing and not necessarily 100% porn. I mean it’s still creepy and gross, and I’d understand scolding them if they continued to do so but a lot worse, but I haven’t seen anything like that from Viv past those 2 drawings. As for the pedo shit… The relationship between a 17 year old and a 19 year old is… hardly creepy and reminiscent of pedo shit. So yeah no fuck that. Now with the drawing of Mirage and Kestrel and the tag that said something jokingly like “Mirage and her pedo tendencies” or whatever… Yeah idk, I can’t defend that lmfao. Again, Viv said she disapproves of those drawings and doesn’t care to think about them, but that one piece of artwork definitely had some baggage to it that made me feel uncomfortable after reading the tags.Only issue I took in terms of her addressing that, is that she was very adamant about it being an inside joke… Which if that’s true, you must’ve had some fucked up friends like damn.

I would also like to state that cub art is legitimately disgusting and I am of the belief that it can cause harm depending on the context since I assume the consumption of cub art can reinforce the urge for pedophiles to act on their desires instead of finding healthy coping mechanisms for it through therapy. There have been stories from younger users on the internet that older people have tried to groom them and have the notion of pedos preying on them be normalized by sending them art depicting kids in sexual acts with adults. Of course in isolation cub art isn’t as harmful as the actual act of raping a child, and I would argue that people have their priorities kind of messed up since the illustration being acknowledged should be part of combating pedophiles preying on children. However, people, typically twitter wokescolds tend to focus on the art solely and I don’t know why. There’s a lot of MAPS trying to find their way into LGBT spaces and it’s fucking gross.

Now with Hazbin itself… It’s meh. Initially I watched it with rose-tinted glasses and loved it. After watching it for like… the 3rd, 4th, 5th time? It’s alright. I don’t hate it, but it’s far from perfect. Now ofc I know it’s a pilot but a very lengthy pilot I’ll say. My biggest gripe with the pilot is that the editing is really fucking weird. Like the editing where Angel tells Alastor “I can suck yah dick!” and the scene that followed was really off. It seemed like too many cuts were made in that instance and seemed very cluttered. It also feels that way during Charlie singing “Inside Every Demon is a Rainbow” and how many little animated bits were like almost wiped off the screen by how fast it came by, and ntm there was just so much happening all at once on screen as well. I had to pause at points just to process everything that was happening. The palette is also very, very, verrrry red. There’s so much red going on and like… I get it, it’s in hell. But lemme rest my eyes on something else besides red, please. The palette they use needs to be better diversified, and the same goes for the characters too. Every character seems to have red on them. Whenever Baxter shows up later he’s gonna look really out of place. Some of the jokes were ok, and others seemed non-clever. I didn’t think Angel’s joke about sucking Al’s dick was funny. I did like the joke with Pentious and Angel though. “SON??” Some of it could’ve been written better too.

Regarding the drama with the show itself… Personally I don’t get it. Like, I don’t feel as if Angel is homophobic as a character since his queerness isn’t at the face of the jokes he makes? He just happens to be sex worker which… sex workers are fine? Support sex workers y’all, seriously. There’s also nothing intrinsically wrong with being sexually active either? As long as it’s within reason and you’re being trustworthy.The issue lies in the fact that people viewed the things I just mentioned as negative, and associate it with gay people as said negatively portrayed thing to push the sentiment of “Gay man do sex a lot therefore the gays bad” or that sort of thing. Also there’s a bit where it shows there’s more emotional depth to him and I’m hoping they’ll expand on that later. Honestly though, the criticisms in regards to that have been pretty uncharitable. Same with the criticisms for Vaggie. Apparently Vaggie is racist because… she’s loud and angry? Again, this is a case where people assume those traits are negative, and because it’s assumed to be negative, the negatively portrayed thing pushes the sentiment of “Being a loud fiery woman made, and latina women are that, therefore latina women bad” or some shit. There are stereotypes that are bad no matter what the context is like sambo-esque caricatures of black people. Then there are tropes that are applied to certain demographics that have the capability to be written well into characters without it being offensive or disrespectful. Vaggie is literally angry because she’s protective of her gf. Like. C’mon.

So, I think that settles what I think about that? It honestly seems like superficial shit to me tbh, and I’m saying this as an sjw-y beta cuck anarchist.

The only REAL gripe I have, is with what the mod from @zpheadcanons posted. Because I know this is probably true as much as it hurts me to say it. Faust def has a history of being pretty petty and bully-like to people she deems undesirable, and Viv harbors it by not criticizing it, and if anyone else within their friend group does it then you’re scolded vehemently and treated like garbage. Her attitude also stretches to harboring an audience full of white knights that I personally don’t approve of.

There’s also this

Faust has hurt distant people I personally know and… yeah. Maybe I’m biased but I can’t vibe with that. Sorry. If you don’t make an effort to criticize abusive behavior within your own friend circles then that makes you just as bad, because then you’re just a bystander to things you could have prevented.

This isn’t to say Viv herself hasn’t dealt with bad faith actors, or people who had the intention to hurt her, or very uncharitable criticism. Particularly from the badwebcomics forums which is honestly 4chan like in how they operate. It’s vicious as hell, and a lot of their criticisms boil down to insults and personal attacks, which serve to be nonconstructive. That’s not to say Viv has been kind to even the more charitable criticism though. I know because when I happened to send an ask to the zoophobia criticism blog (where did it go???) regarding something relatively minor and superficial, she blocked me from her blog. I’m still blocked lmfao. I’m not blocked on twitter though! (not yet anyways). Faust has me blocked there though, and I have no idea why. She’s had me blocked for years even though I haven’t spoken out against her till recently. So, there’s that.

As for her apology itself, I feel like it was fine. I think it could’ve been worded better? The take I disagree with in terms of that is like… If I made a mistake in the past, and I make it clear that I don’t care for what I did, I don’t feel as if me explaining why I felt compelled to do certain things negate me from still not caring for my past actions? That’s just me providing context. That’s a really weird take, but I guess that could be viewed as an excuse idk. Personally I think people are holding the bar super high to a state of irrationality.

*sigh* So yeah there’s that. I miss the old days where honestly I could be ignorant about this, but at the same time I look at my old obsessive posts and I kinda just… cringe. I was such an irrational stan I almost hate myself for it. Fuck XD

Edit: I’d also like to point out that I’m not saying Viv or Faust are totally awful or totally good people, and I know they’re capable of being better. It’s a matter of whether or not they wanna be better.

#vivziepop #hazbin hotel

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let-it-raines · 5 years

Text

Betting on the Bullseye (Part 2)

Summary: Emma Swan loses a bet that means she has to ask her celebrity crush to be her date to her office's annual fundraising gala. Killian Jones is that celebrity crush. She expects all kinds of humiliation and for her dignity to be completely lost. What she doesn't expect is for him to say yes.

Rating: Mature:

A/N: Hey, hey, hey! This is back with more words, very few of which are Christmas-related like the original. We’re slowing down a bit - but still going pretty fast in my feeble attempt to keep this in five (it was four lol) parts - moving into a bit more realism (if you can call it that), and seeing what happens after that video bet date. Double line break means change in POV.

Entire story found on ao3: beginning | current

Tumblr: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Tag list: @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @kmomof4 @wellhellotragic @ekr032-blog-blog @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @captswanis4vr @teamhook @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @branlovesouat @dreadpirateemma

Killian flies back to Los Angeles before noon, but he leaves her apartment at a little past nine, his dress shirt ruffled almost as much as his hair, the black strands sticking up in a million directions.

It’s, well, it’s awkward.

Really, really awkward.

After texting Ruby back, promising to call her later to give all of the details – or really to take away from all of the details that Ruby has most likely crafted in that mind of hers – she gently shook Killian awake, shaking him until his eyelids fluttered open to reveal tired blue eyes that blew wide when he saw her. For a moment, she thought he was shocked, like he had no idea where he was, and maybe he didn’t. If she woke up in a strange place with someone she barely knew – okay, so maybe she has a little experience in that area – she’d likely scream or get the hell out of there. But Killian had simply rubbed his eyes before mumbling a g’morning, love to her.

He hadn’t had much time to talk, none really, jumping around her messy shack of an apartment putting his shoes on and using her mouthwash as an impromptu replacement for a toothbrush while she made him a cup of coffee. She’d meant to tell him about the photos Ruby had sent her, the ones that had caused her heart to race for more reasons than one, but they slipped her mind as he practically ran out the door with a smile and the smallest of waves accompanied by words she barely remembers.

And with her favorite travel mug.

It had swans on it.

A heavy weight settled in her stomach, something entirely unfamiliar, and all she could think about was how stupid she was. What the hell was she doing kissing Killian Jones? A man who lives across the country from her, a man who she barely knows and will never see again, and a man who has a face that the world recognizes. There are damn pictures of them. And maybe the video of her asking him out on a date won’t haunt her forever, but paparazzi pictures of them kissing sure as hell will.

Killian’s a good guy. She knows this. Something in her gut tells her that he wasn’t acting last night, so there’s no way he simply kissed her out of obligation or to tease her, right? He had to mean it. There had to be…feelings involved.

Maybe it was just a one-time (or two-time) thing.

After all, how can you really have feelings for someone after one night?

You can’t, or maybe you can, but she shouldn’t feel like an anchor has rooted itself in her stomach.

In all honesty, she feels a bit used, which is ridiculous. If anything, she used Killian. Well, no. She didn’t use him. She lost a bet and asked him to be her date. But then she used that date and his high profile to help raise money for charity. So she used him for charity? Does that even count? Does any of this count?

Fuck, she has no idea what’s going on or how to feel. Confusion is pretty much all she understands right now…and she barely understands that.

Killian Jones isn’t exactly high on her list right now when he’d been at the very top less than ten hours ago.

She doesn’t even have a way to contact him besides his agent’s number. Would he even want that? Would she even want that? Was it just that one-time thing that she tricked herself into thinking otherwise? Does he go around kissing all of the girls he goes on video bet dates with? God, even in her head that sounds absolutely ridiculous.

Sighing, she tries to forget about it, stripping out of her jumpsuit and hopping into the shower, letting the hot water wash over her, her mascara dripping down her face and her foundation smearing as she wipes it on the towel, having foolishly grabbed a white one instead of the dark blue ones where the stains are easier to hide or wash away. It looks like a clown fell into the towel, and that alone causes her to giggle, her body lightening the slightest bit. She’s being overdramatic and frankly a bit ridiculous, and even though it nags at her for the rest of her shower, it’s nagging from somewhere in the back.

It was a date that’s not going to have a follow-up. She’s had more of those than she can count, and even if this date was a business deal and with Killian Jones, he’s still just a guy. She wouldn’t get this worked up for anyone else. She hasn’t in a long time, and she doesn’t plan on it happening anytime soon.

Emma goes about her day as normal, puttering around the apartment cleaning and completely and totally ignoring her phone even as it occasionally vibrates from its perch on the kitchen counter.

It’s a little past eight in the evening when she caves in her goal of not looking at her phone, and it’s really only because she’s on her second glass of wine. Nevertheless, she settles on a barstool, one hand holding her wine, the liquid sloshing around, and the other thumbing through her phone.

There are a few texts from Ruby, most of them more details from Ruby’s night outside of the time she spent with she and Killian – apparently, she met a super nice girl at the gala and has a date with her Friday night. The other notifications are mostly from her boss, emails and financial details about how successful they were last night. She responds to those first, making sure that everything she types is as professional as possible, before going through the rest of her phone. She has a few missed calls, numbers that look like scam or telemarketers, and she quickly deletes those. After all of those little red notifications go away, she moves to the couch, flopping down and holding her phone above her chest as she scrolls through Instagram.

Everything’s normal, just her usual friends and people she met, like, once in college that somehow found her and decided she was worth a follow so she followed them back, until she gets to a picture of a coffee mug…with swans on it…sitting on the tray table of an airplane seat along with a stack of papers with a blacked-out title that looks like some kind of thick script.

KillianJonesOfficial: Boston > L.A. with a souvenir not sold in stores and a little light reading over a secret project I can’t wait to share with you guys!

She can’t help the smile that blooms on her face, her body doing a little dance even though she’s still a little pissed that he stole her mug and at the whole way that he kind of ditched her this morning. But her alcohol tolerance is lower than it used to be, and her glasses of wine were a little bit on the larger side. She likes the photo, scrolling down and commenting even though she knows that he won’t see it.

Yeah, so she’s definitely a lightweight and the tiniest bit inebriated.

Emma710Swan: Hey thief, I want my mug back. It’s apparently not sold in stores, so I don’t know what I’m going to do to get another one.

She doesn’t think anything of her comment until she wakes up the next morning with so many notifications on her home screen that her phone doesn’t even show them all. They’re all from Instagram, and when she logs on, she sees that she has hundreds of replies to her comment on Killian’s post as well as thousands of follower requests. She doesn’t…she doesn’t know what to do with all of this information, especially when she accidentally clicks on the popular page and sees all of those paparazzi photos of she and Killian plastered across her screen. She knew they existed, wasn’t really thatbothered by it, but suddenly she’s facing the reality of this whole thing.

Her life is public knowledge now, pictures of her kissing someone far too famous for anyone’s well-being all across the internet. She can’t stop looking, continuously scrolling and seeing more pictures from the gala everywhere, different filters and captions and all things she wasn’t prepared to see.

“Oh God,” she mumbles when a few hateful messages pop up. She can’t look at those, no matter how much she wants to, and she throws her phone across the bed, letting it bounce on the mattress until it falls to the floor. “This is so, so not good.”

Her office phone rings, the shrill sound something she’s tired of hearing over the past few days as it’s been going off non-stop. She’s had to become a hermit in her own life, something she never thought would happen after simply kissing a guy. Okay, so she’s boarded herself away after going on dates before, but that’s because she’s either been heartbroken or too pissed off to want to do anything. But this was one date, a thing that was really more of a business arrangement that happened to end up with her actually having a good time, and it’s wreaking more havoc on her life than any of the heartbreaks in her past.

Well, Neal was pretty fucked up, but she tries to push that to the back of her mind, somewhere under piles of much better things that didn’t break her so damn much.

She hasn’t even heard from Killian again, and maybe that’s what’s making her feel so bitter still. Was it all some kind of game to him? Why the hell does she still care? She needs to get over it.

“What?” she groans into the phone, her tone so harsh that she cringes knowing it’s probably her boss calling with the luck that she has.

“Swan?”

Oh.

That’s not her boss. That’s Killian.

Fuck.

All she’s wanted was for him to call, and now it’s taking every ounce of strength in her body not to hang up on him. Maybe it’s curiosity that keeps her from hanging up, or maybe it’s a bit of hope that she hasn’t been going crazy the past few days for nothing.

“What do you want, Killian?”

“Love, I’ve been trying to call you for days, but you haven’t answered your cell phone. Or your office phone.”

“But what do you want?” she hisses, propping her phone between her cheek and her shoulders as she crosses her arms over her chest. Logically, she knows that some of this mania is her fault. She kissed him back, she invited him into the apartment, and she commented on his Instagram. But she also didn’t know that there would paparazzi stalking outside of her apartment (because wow, super creepy and invasive on so many levels) or that commenting on his Instagram would cause such mania. She didn’t even realize that anyone would see it or that it’d create such a frenzy. How the hell can a couple of pictures and an Instagram comment make her life this insane? How do people live like this?

Killian didn’t know those things either, though. His only fault has really been the way he left things between them…and he’s apparently tried to call. Damn. She has no idea what to do or how to deal with any of these things. Listening to Killian would probably be a good start.

“Well, I wanted to talk about the pictures of us, and then all of the media abuse you’ve likely been facing if what I’ve heard is correct or if my Instagram is any indication. And I also just wanted to talk to you. I had a good time on Saturday, love, and my poor goodbye on Sunday beside, I was hoping maybe I could continue to get to know you.”

Oh fuck. Oh damn. Oh hell. She can’t think of a single word that’s not “oh” or a curse that she encourages the kids at the shelter not to use.

“Killian, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Did you…do you not feel the same?”

He sounds so broken, his accent going more high pitched and cracking on words that it shouldn’t. She doesn’t know what she wants or how she feels.

“No, I did. I do. It’s just,” she sighs, running her hands through her hair and completely ruining her braid, “I’m a nobody. And I don’t mean that in a bad way or a self-pitying way. But I’m someone who can go to the grocery store and buy a tub of ice cream, and no one knows about it but me and the guy assisting with self-checkout. I live in a shitty apartment because I like it that way, and when I go out with my friends, no one notices. After one night with you, though, there are pictures of me online, people outside of my apartment, death threats online, and people calling into the office who have no interest in actually working with the shelter.”

He’s silent on the other line for a moment too long, making her think that she’s lost him until he shudders. “Shit, love. I’m sorry. I knew it was bad, but I was hoping you hadn’t actually experienced everything that I feared.”

“Well, I have. And your less than spectacular exit on Sunday hasn’t exactly made me feel great. It honestly made me feel kind of cheap. Killian, Saturday night was fun, something that I didn’t expect after, you know, only asking you out on a super embarrassing bet. I thought it’d be like a business arrangement, but then we ended up having a good time. I don’t know if you were acting or – ”

“I wasn’t acting.”

“Or what,” she continues, trying to talk through his words and calm the erratic beating of her heart, “but I’m just not sure that I can allow my life to be in upheaval over some guy I barely know. I’ve been through that enough.”

“I get that, Swan, and if you don’t want to give me a chance, I’ll move on and leave you be. But I’d at least like to get to know you.”

“How would that even work? You live across the country. I’m busy. You’re busy.”

“Phone, texts, facetime. You get to know me as a friend from far away, and then if you decide you’d like to see me again, I’m on a plane. If not, well, then we never have to see each other again. And I’ll make a statement to try to clear up some of this mess, okay? Just give me a shot?”

She doesn’t know why, but she gives him her personal number and says yes.

Her day continues to be absolutely insane, the phone calls never stopping and all of her coworkers but Ruby giving judgmental, disdainful looks. She’s putting everyone through hell with the calls they’re getting, and it’s like every thankful hug and word she got on Saturday for helping to bring in the money they’ll be using to help fund their Christmas has been taken back. The only real solace she has is Ruby, who goes out and buys her a cheeseburger and fries for lunch so that she doesn’t have to leave the office. It’s like she’s back in middle school. She’s twenty-eight years old and living in middle school.

“They’re just frustrated, Ems,” Ruby consoles, swiping her own fries in a strawberry milkshake that it’s far too cold to be drinking, “and maybe a little jealous. I mean, come on. You kissed Killian Jones Saturday night, and Kathryn’s boyfriend got drunk and threw up.”

“It was just a kiss.”

“Okay sure, honey. Whatever you tell yourself.”

She takes a bite of her cheeseburger, letting her junk food help her deal with everything. “He called me today. Said he wants to get to know me more.”

“Shit. What’d you say?”

“I mean, I complained about the last few days because I feel like I’m in a fishbowl, but,” she shrugs her shoulders and grimaces, “I said yes. I’m crazy, and I said yes.”

“So what you’re telling me is that you’re dating Killian Jones.”

“I’m getting to know Killian Jones. And it’s a secret.”

Just then Ruby’s phone chimes, and she smirks before her brows furrow together and her fingers scroll down the screen. “Your secret lover boy is talking about you on Instagram.”

“What?” She practically jumps around her desk, leaving her food and sticking her hands out until she gets Ruby’s phone. Sure enough, there’s a photo of the two of them from the gala, laughing at their table at dinner.

KillianJonesOfficial: Hi, friends! I don’t usually like to get serious on here, especially when it comes to something that should have been lighthearted. Emma Swan asked me out on a date through a video, and I agreed because I wanted to support Boston Children’s Shelter. Miss Swan and I had a wonderful time supporting several charities, and the end of our night was documented by photographers. I won’t deny any of that or what the pictures show, but Miss Swan and I are simply friends. If you all could be so kind, I’d appreciate it if everyone stopped invading her private life and her work life. She didn’t ask for her life to be invaded, and I think we would all be better served spending our time doing things that matter. It’s still early in the holiday season, and there’s much giving to be done! Thank you!

“Well, damn,” Ruby whistles, causing Emma to look up from the phone, her cheeks so hot that if someone touched them, she’s sure they could burn flesh, “you’ve got it bad.”

“Ruby.”

“I know, I know. Emma Swan doesn’t fall for a man in one night. She’s got walls and is guarded and all that jazz, but girl, if the smile on your face says anything, you’ve got it bad.”

Emma Swan: Okay, what question am I on?

Emma Swan: And this doesn’t count as a question, bud.

He laughs before scrolling through his phone, trying to find her question number, but they haven’t really been following the rules of twenty questions anyways. They’ve each got to be on at least seventy now with follow up questions. It’s been going on like this for nearly three weeks. They send texts back and forth, the occasional call when he’s on a break from filming reshoots of his last movie and doesn’t have time to be texting, but it’s mostly them getting to know each other in the simplest of ways. It had been awkward when he’d first texted her, the conversations stilted like they had been when he picked her up at her apartment, and he’d foolishly suggested they play twenty questions.

He’s thirty-two years old, and he’s playing twenty questions with the girl he likes.

Killian Jones: I don’t think it matters, but I think you’re technically on questions seventeen, love.

Emma Swan: What size t-shirt do you wear?

He snorts, laughter rumbling through his stomach, before rolls over on the couch, propping his chin up on Liam’s throw pillow…okay, so it’s Elsa’s throw pillow. He’s absolutely positive that Liam didn’t pick this out.

Killian Jones: Large. Why do you ask?

Killian Jones: And that doesn’t count as a question.

Emma Swan: Because I’m sending you a late Christmas gift that I just found while shopping.

Killian Jones: You’re shopping on Christmas Eve?

Killian Jones: Are you mad, Swan?

Emma Swan: Not crazy. Just been a little distracted lately and needed one more present for Leo.

“Oi, little brother, get off your phone and come help in the kitchen.”

“I’m a guest, Liam. You and Elsa are supposed to do all of the cooking. And it’s younger brother.”

“Okay, then come play with your nephew then. Who are you talking to anyways?”

“No one,” he answers a little too quickly, and Liam catches onto it almost immediately, his eyebrows moving across his forehead while his lips tick up on one side.

“Do you have a girl, Killian?” Liam prods, standing over the couch and staring down at Killian. “Are you talking to a girl?”

“I’m talking to a friend who happens to be a girl. But not a girlfriend.”

“But you like her.”

“She’s a friend, and don’t you dare tell Elsa. She’ll get those big sentimental eyes, and then she’ll ask for details.”

“So there are details to be asked about then?”

“So you needed help in the kitchen then?” He gets up from the couch, stuffing his phone in his back pocket and sauntering into the kitchen, completely ignoring the way Liam is smirking behind him and heading straight to grab Aiden out of his highchair, tickling his stomach and asking Elsa what they’re having for Christmas Eve dinner.

He doesn’t check his phone for the next few hours, spending time with his family, the volume in the house only increasing when Elsa’s sister Anna and her husband Kris show up. It’s only the six of them, but it’s the loudest, most full Christmas Eve they’ve ever had. He’s only had Liam since their mum died when he was ten, and as much as he loves their Christmases together, he’s thrilled that their family is growing, even if it’s by no help of his own.

His nephew is the light of his life, though, the little eight-month old his best bud even if all he really does his giggle and smile at him with his little gummy smile, and he most definitely did all of his Christmas shopping for him ahead of time, unlike a certain woman did for her friend’s kid.

When he crawls into bed that night, Liam’s guest room a little too quiet without the box fan he usually sleeps with at home, and so knowing he can’t sleep, he pulls out his phone only to see several messages from Emma. The last one is dated just a few minutes ago, and even though it’s one in the morning in Boston, he takes a chance and presses the call button next to her name.

“Hello,” she mumbles before yawning, and he can’t help but smile. “Killian?”

“Aye. Did I wake you, love?”

“No, no. I was just getting in bed after finishing wrapping the rest of the presents. What are you doing?”

“The same thing.”

“Wrapping presents?”

“No, getting in bed.”

“Scandalous, Jones.”

“You know it, love.”

They end up talking for the next two hours, filling each other in on their Christmas Eve celebrations until Emma really does start yawning more than she actually speaks, the time catching up with her more than it does with him.

“Swan?”

“Mhm?”

“You should sleep. Goodnight, love. And Merry Christmas.”

“I can stay awake.”

“Emma,” he prods, curling up into bed himself and pulling the comforter further over his body. “Go to bed.”

“Okay,” she yawns, her voice gradually getting quieter, and he can hear her comforter rustling too. “Merry Christmas, Killian.”

Filming on the television show he’s decided to pick up begins at the end of January. It’s a mini series, so he’s only contractually obligated to it for fifteen weeks instead of up to ten years. It’s a historical drama, one where he gets to play a hero with a tainted past who battles his demons while also battling with his adversaries. It’s been in the works for years, and as he gets fitted for his costumes, a sense of giddy anticipation fills him, even as he’s basically fitted into a corset and leather pants. Well, that’s only for one episode. The rest of the time he’s in linens and suits of men in the 1800s.

The only downside to it is that as the weeks have passed, he’s grown closer to Emma, their texts still frequent, but their calls even more so. It doesn’t necessarily sound like a downside, but to him, that’s how he feels. He just hasn’t seen her more than in pictures and one or two video chats. He’s known her for two months now, not long in the grand scheme of things, but they’ve talked nearly every day. Their twenty questions game has long since stopped, the words flowing more naturally as they simply chat about their days or whatever is on their minds. She’s gotten into sending him memes and videos she finds online, and he’s taken the time to find things to send her as well.

Through every little conversation they have, he learns a bit more about it. For awhile, he thought that they could be friends, that he could live just talking to her like this if that’s what she ends up wanting, but he likes her. He likes her, and he has no idea how she feels about him. Yeah, they kissed, and sometimes he finds himself touching his lips at the memory of that kiss, but that was just after one night. What if she doesn’t feel the same way now? He knows that they’re friends, but what if she never decides that she wants to see him again? What if it stays as some kind of virtual relationship?

If that’s what she wants, he won’t try to force her into something else. Whatever they become, it’s up to her as much as him.

He just doesn’t know what the hell she wants, and all he wants is to see her, to hear her laugh in person and possibly even give her a hug. He’s not even aiming for a kiss at this point. How can he miss someone he’s only met once?

Once his fitting is finished, he changes back into jeans and a flannel shirt for rehearsals, shooting for the first episode not really beginning until tomorrow after they get through this final day of practice.

It’s the end of February, the first half of the series is nearly finished, when he gets a call from Emma. They haven’t really been able to talk the past few days, the time difference and his work hours causing them to only exchange a few texts, so when her name and a picture from the gala pop up on his screen, he nearly breaks his phone, catching it in the air before it hits the marble of his kitchen counter.

“Hi, Swan” he breathes, his lips twitching upward.

He’s got to look like an idiot smiling to himself, but he lives alone. No one will ever know. Well, Liam and his damn older brother tendencies might now. He’s been on him like a hawk ever since Christmas Eve, especially because Killian refuses to tell him anything. His brother is nosy, but it’s only because he cares. Killian’s been hurt enough by women, not to mention how much he resents his father for leaving them and their sick mother, and Liam’s taken it up on himself to be his protector. He means well, but after Milah and how broken he’d been, Liam’s taken it to the next level. He knows that women will take advantage of him for his fame in the same way that people who try to be his friend will. It’s why he’s been single for awhile, and he keeps his mates to Liam, Robin, and Will, people he’s known and trusted for years.

But he knows that Emma is different. She’s obviously a fan, something he somehow forgets about most of the time, and while he’s never considered dating a fan before, he would with Emma.

He also knows that Liam would be up his arse about it.

The fact that Liam never mentioned the photos of he and Emma outside of her front door is a bloody miracle. Liam either never saw them or chose not to talk about it. God does he hope it was the first one.

“Um, hi. Why do you sound out of breath?”

“Because you take my breath away, love.”

“Oh wow, I can’t tell if that was good or bad.”

“It was good, darling.” He walks from his kitchen to his living room, settling down into his favorite recliner and stretching out. “How are you?”

“Oh, I’m fine. I’m on my way home from the gym. Did you not have filming today?”

“Day off, and I haven’t changed out of my pajamas. It’s bloody wonderful.”

“Lazy ass.”

“Smart arse.”

“Anyways,” she continues, several horns beeping behind her. He checks his watch and realizes that it’s eight in the evening in Boston. She must have had a late day at work. “I’m calling because I have some news.”

His heart rate picks up, and something lodges in his chest. She sounds happy, but he doesn’t know what her news could be. All he can think is that she’s begun dating someone, which she has every right to, but it would break his heart a little bit.

“What news?”

“So apparently, I haven’t taken enough vacations days, and I’ll lose them if I don’t use them by the end of the quarter, which is the end of March. So I was thinking, if it’s okay with you, that I might finally take you up on that offer of us seeing each other again. I know you said you’d be the one hopping on a plane, but I’d kind of like to see California.”

It's…this is…damn. This is everything he’s wanted for the past few months, and he can’t believe it’s happening. He’s going to see Emma, and it’s not going to be through a video screen.

“Swan, I’d be thrilled. You can stay with me. I mean, if you’re okay with that. You don’t have to stay with me if you’d rather stay somewhere else. And I can show you around all of the good places or the tourist traps. It doesn’t matter. Oh fuck.”

“What?”

“I’m filming all through March.”

“I know,” she sighs before cursing out someone under her breath, “but maybe we could hang out between filming. I don’t want to impose, so it’s fine if this is a bad time. I’ll just lounge around my apartment for a week if it is. It’ll be great. Just an entire week of laziness.”

“Emma, no,” he practically begs, hoping that she can’t hear his heart beating through the telephone and the miles between them. “Tell me the dates, and you can come. We’ll make it work.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely.”

#betting on the bullseye #cs fic #cs ff #how is a christmas one shot not a christmas one shot anymore

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