#i could have sworn i had posted all his junk a while ago
Text
steel and lace
minors do not interact
warnings: 18+, anal play, sex toys, voyeuristic fantasy, scratching, creampie
pairing: bakugou x fem!reader
wc: 3.8k
summary: The only one who manages to get Bakugou’s birthday right is you.
a/n: This is my addition to the Bakugou Birthday Bash collab (masterlist). Many thanks to @lady-bakuhoe for helping me flesh out the ideas with this story!! You were integral to this idea, love! And additional thanks to @whats-her-quirk and @therealvalkyrie for beta reading <333
edit: I no longer write x reader but here’s my old masterlist - mobile | desktop
Bakugou never took work off on his birthday.
Never. Why would he? Villains didn’t give a shit that this was the day the old hag had unceremoniously had him evacuated into a hospital room however many years ago. They didn’t give a shit that his friends—who were also heroes who should be fucking working, by the way—wanna come over to his house and surprise him. As though his reconnaissance-trained ears weren’t as fucking fine tuned at hearing idiots on the other side of the door as theirs.
What villains should care about was that he was a year older, wiser, and fucking stronger, and he was going to kick all their asses. That was what he told all his idiot friends every year when they asked him if he was going to take off work.
Every year he regretted it.
The idiots he works with really must not care about hero work, because every year they want to send him out on a field post sugar crash from some store-bought cake with his name on it. Or buy him gifts that he’ll probably toss in the trash on the way home. He’s not being rude; he just doesn’t need junk that he never would have bought himself in the first place.
Everyone is always grinning at him, wishing him a happy birthday—as though he’s any goddamn happier to see their ugly mugs flapping their lips at him—and trying to start stupid-ass conversations. If he doesn’t like small talk normally, why would he want it on his birthday?
And the singing.
If people really wanted to wish him a happy birthday, they’d find a way to do it silently while doing some respectable fucking hero work. Make his day easier.
But no, none of that was what happened. So he should have just stayed home. Let the villains have a fucking field day on April 20th, and he could have his real gift killing them all tomorrow on the 21st.
But, unfortunately, he was a dumbass and had gone to work anyway, like he’d learned nothing from the last many years of antics. And the continued antics had got him a little pissy. And when he was pissed off, his heart rate increased, his breathing grew heavier, and, of course, he sweat.
Well. Guess what happened?
“Bakugou, I am currently paying to treat burns and fractures on three villains. Care to explain?”
Best Jeanist was sitting in his office chair, blinding sunlight streaming in behind him. Late afternoon sun—darker in color but way more resentful towards human eyes, apparently. It was reflecting off of all of the neighboring glass corporate buildings, making Bakugou squint behind his mask.
Bakugou shrugged, petulant as he stood behind his chair instead of sitting in it. “Overkill.”
Best Jeanist nodded. “Did you…lose control?”
“Tch,” Bakugou scoffed. As if he ever lost control. “Villains were weaker than I thought.”
Bakugou felt the stare of that one fucking eye and stood firm. He knew he was looking at a suspension, hopefully just for a day or two. It wasn’t like he’d done anything terrible. Villains got hurt sometimes, just like pros did, and they got their care and then they got their justice. It’s not like Bakugou was violent on purpose. Anymore. And Jeanist sure as hell knew that, so it wouldn’t take Bakugou off the field for more than a slap on the wrist. He probably wouldn’t even be technically suspended. Just chained by the fucking dick to his desk with some paperwork.
“Just…” Bakugou braced for it, narrowing his eyes but keeping his snarl to a minimum. “Just be more careful next time. Shower and go home—see you tomorrow.”
Bakugou’s jaw dropped. He closed it quickly, trying not to look like Dunce Face in front of his boss, but in all that was real and true what? He was just about to say something—he didn’t know what, probably something insubordinate—when Best Jeanist took out his own paperwork and waved him away.
“Happy birthday, Bakugou.”
Oh. So that was it.
Bakugou grit his teeth. Happy fucking birthday indeed.
It was nothing. His brain told him over and over again that it was fucking nothing. He hadn’t been punished, he hadn’t even really done anything wrong; he just hadn’t been squeaky clean up to fucking code. He could still show up for work tomorrow, business as usual. He should be tickled fucking pink.
But he wasn’t. Special treatment for being the birthday boy? What was he? Five years old and given a pass after stealing the chicken nuggets off Deku’s plate? Jesus Christ.
And if he was honest, he was mostly pissed at himself. Sure, he could blame how the weather always seemed to sprint from spring to summer around his birthday every year, strengthening his quirk. He could blame the villains for being weak enough that they had no business even stepping foot in his neighborhood. But losing control of his quirk even a little—and it had been a little—was fucking amateur and he’d have to pencil in some extra time at the gym. Maybe snatch Shitty Hair for some sparring, and, unfortunately, probably nab an extra therapy session and talk about this anger thing again.
At least walking instead of sitting on that stifling, crowded train car was doing him some good. Let him cool off a bit before he got home and you saw that something was wrong. He was nearly entirely relaxed by the time he got to his building’s lobby, even having the grace to nod at the concierge—who didn’t know it was his birthday, thank God—before heading up the elevator.
When he got off on his floor, it suddenly occurred to him that you might have done something truly repulsive, like inviting his friends over. He could imagine Shitty Hair’s shitty fucking hair sticking up from behind your sofa as he tried to hide before leaping up and yelling surprise.
Well, if that was the case, then the surprise was going to be him kicking all his dumb friends out of the apartment with one foot. Ain’t no way he was going to host a party on his birthday.
It turned out his worry was for nothing, though, because when he turned the knob—fully braced to punch out some teeth with his other hand—he was greeted with a totally bare apartment.
Like barren.
For starters, it was perfectly clean. Bakugou kept a tidy house normally, but this was certainly cleaner than he’d left it this morning. But more than that, there was nothing extra lying around. No stupid friends. No presents. No cake or even the smell of one. It was almost disconcerting.
No, it was a relief. A relief because he didn’t want any of that stuff. He’d had the slice of cake at work—and was slightly hangry now to show for it—and wasn’t interested in having another. And even though you’d choose better gifts than the extras at work would, it was nothing he couldn’t buy himself. So no, this was perfect. He was absolutely not disappointed. Maybe a bit confused. But not disappointed.
He took his shoes off and set his things on the small table by the door. Then he wandered into the kitchen, downed some water, and thought about what he might make for dinner. He might have expected that you and he would make dinner together or maybe even that you would have surprised him with something, but he didn’t mind doing it alone. It wasn’t like he’d learned to cook just to find a housewife someday to con into doing it all for him.
He decided to go to the bedroom first to plug in his phone. He was just sliding it out of his pocket when he opened the door, saw you, and stopped short.
You were on the bed—not in bed, but on it—wearing a black zip up with his signature orange x over the chest. You were on your knees with your legs spread wide, looking him dead in the eye with a deadly smirk on your face, painted in bright lipstick.
“New prototype. You like?”
The two of you had met when you were scouted from his parents’ business to design the clothing for his first merchandise line. He’d sworn off dating you from the beginning, because the last thing he wanted was to give the old hag anything to say about, firstly, her being at all responsible for finding him a girlfriend or secondly, the fact that dating a fashion designer would mean he was dating his parents. He’d said fuck that to anyone who would listen.
But you’d gotten his brain from the beginning. Your designs were all sick from the sketch to mock up to the prototypes you always wore for him. Maybe he was a simple man for falling for a girl dressed in his colors, aiming to please him, but fuck it. You were talented, too smart for your own good, and pretty as hell.
So what? Now he had a dream girlfriend and one more reason to fight with his mom. Net positive for sure.
Still, that jacket wasn’t a prototype. That was from his first official line, no doubt, and he’d seen you wear it hundreds of times. He knew from here how much it would smell like detergent and how much like you.
You caught his eyes, raised your brows once, and then pulled the zip on the sweatshirt.
Underneath was nothing but lace and ribbon, contrasting the black and orange of the sweatshirt with moss green outlining your silhouette. The moss green from his gauntlets and his belt was caged around you in the thinnest strips of fabric, scraps of floral barely covering your breasts and pussy. The lingerie was an all-in-one, with the tiny bra connected to the panties by a few ribbons crossing over your belly. Not hiding a damn thing, but showing it off for all its worth.
“Fuck,” Bakugou groaned when the sweatshirt hit the bed, your arms still in the sleeves, but the look underneath now fully revealed to him. He could feel the blood going to his dick, just seeing you on display like that getting him up to half mast in seconds.
“Not a lot of coverage on this version,” you mused, sticking your thumb under a bra strap. “Maybe an edit for the second try?”
Bakugou growled, taking a step forward, but you weren’t done just yet.
“I was also thinking maybe full panties next time,” you said, turning around, sitting on your heels. The sweatshirt hung just below your ass, framing round cheeks that were caged by thin elastic crosses, and that was it. Not so much as a triangle of fabric to speak of. “Maybe write: Property of Dynamight on them? Or is that too much text?”
That was all it took for Bakugou to pounce. One arc of his fist had his shirt thrown with a smack to the floor and then his hands were on your shoulders, spinning you face up as he pushed you flat on the bed.
“You know I don’t like unnecessary words,” he growled.
And then he was kissing you, a hand running up the falke stockings pinned on your thighs as you pulled your arms out of the sweatshirt. One leg came up automatically to wrap around his hip, and Bakugou began rutting against your center, fully hard already. On his second grinding thrust, his pants snagged on the scrap of lace you were wearing. Wetness was already glistening on his trousers and he moved his thumb down to your core, groaning at what he felt.
“Crotchless panties?” he mumbled against your mouth. “You’re making this too easy, sweetheart.”
“Shouldn’t have to work so hard on your birthday,” you mewled.
There was a rumble in Bakugou’s throat, half scoff, half chuckle. “Yeah, remind me of that next year, will you?”
You were soaked already—the swipe of his thumb told you that much. Either you’d gotten really excited when he’d texted you that he was coming home early, or you’d…gotten yourself excited at some point after. Either way, it meant that foreplay could wait for round two.
He pulled his thumb away from your core and pressed it against your lip, smudging what lipstick had survived the kisses down your chin. You were half ruined already. You stuck your tongue out and licked at essence on his thumb before sucking it into your mouth, eyes wide as you looked up at him. Fuck, he could feel himself straining against his pants, grinding circles against your half-bare cunt for a spot of relief.
After you licked him clean, he took his hand back, leaving your mouth open and wanting as he began to fuss with the front of his pants. He caught your smudged lips again, holding your jaw with one hand as he pushed his pants down with the other. He pulled his lower half away from you, kicking off the pants—hadn’t bothered with boxers for the commute home—and let them slide off the edge of the bed.
“Ready?” he asked.
Your smile was big and you bit the tip of your tongue, nodding your head twice. That was all he needed. He grabbed his cock in his fist and slid it through your wetness just once, and then he pushed himself in.
Immediately, he felt the drag of something hard and angled against your lower wall right along his cock, pressing from tip to base as he slid home inside of you.
“Woah,” he groaned. “What the fuck?”
You giggled, the action making your walls flutter against him.
“Got myself a new toy,” you said coyly, wrapping your legs around his hips. “Promise you can get yourself something pretty on my birthday too.”
Bakugou reach a hand around your thigh, feeling the elastic garter pulled taut against the stockings that were rubbing so deliciously against his back and his hips. He grabbed a handful of your ass, and the tips of his fingers felt a rounded edge of warm metal slid just between your ass cheeks.
“You fucking naughty minx.” Bakugou grinned, showing all his teeth, rearing back out of you before thrusting back in, feeling the novel pressure of the toy on the way out and back.
No wonder you had been so wet to begin with. You must have lubed yourself up before putting in that butt plug—which wasn’t small, from what he could feel of it. He could imagine you, one leg up on the sink, ass sticking out as you fingered yourself, mouth dropping open when you inserted the toy. How cold it would have been when it first touched your pert little hole and how you’d gotten it all warm for him as you waited with your little secret for him to get home.
“It’s curved to hit prostates,” you gasped as Bakugou rocked hard, steady thrusts into you. “In case you’re interested.”
The thought, much to Bakugou’s surprise, sent a thrill right through his belly down to his dick. He couldn’t help but slam rapidly into you, making your eyes roll back. Fuck, was that something he wanted? It wasn’t something he’d ever thought about, and he didn’t have the mind right now to ponder it.
“God you feel so big.”
“You feel so tight, sweetheart,” Bakugou grunted, refusing to acknowledge the fresh heat that was on his cheeks after your previous comment. “Squeezing me from all sides.”
The butt plug left it so there was barely enough room in your pussy for his cock to pump in and out. The pressure was hard on one side, making him fucking twitch every time the head of his cock caught against it, leading him to opt for long, deep thrusts in and out of you. It was so good that he didn’t even care if the only present he got for his birthday was a little hunk of stainless steel halfway up your ass. He’d gotten home five minutes ago and already he could feel his balls tightening, threatening to bust a nut.
“Just think of it, Katsuki,” you said, your voice dreamy as he fucked you raw. “All the women wearing this set, thinking of you when they show it off for their partners. All wishing that you were the one fucking them. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, baby? But they’ll never have anything but their husband’s sad cock that they pretend is yours.”
“Fuck,” Bakugou growled, putting a hand on the headboard and nearly splintering it in his grip. You were riling him up and it made him want to press his palm flat against the burnished oak and let off his quirk, send shards flying. His hand was already drenched with more sweat than it should have been, just like with those villains earlier. Goddamn this time of year. He couldn’t help it; his quirk begged for it. He was in dire need of release of some kind, and it wasn’t like he could cum yet. He had to know how your pussy felt when it convulsed around him, ass cheeks tensing and squeezing that toy hard against his cock until he was spurting into you.
Bakugou let off a few crackling pops from his palm, moaning as relief filled him, the tension lessened for a moment. A faint smell of wood smoke spread through the room, slightly embittered by the resin blackening around his hand. One more scorch mark on the bed frame. You groaned underneath him, taken by the sight of Bakugou’s ever-tight control slipping for you. You knew he’d fuck you through the bed until the rest of the frame gave way if he wanted. You’d both be flat on a busted mattress and he’d keep going until he felt you clench around him.
“How’s that sound, Katsu?” you continued, your voice growing higher as Bakugou took his hand off the headboard and pressed four fingers, still sweaty and heated from his quirk, against the lace covering your clit. It was soaked through. “A-Ah, you’d like the idea of a woman home alone, dressed up just for you, fucking herself on the dildo she hides in the back of your closet, screaming out your name and hoping to God that her neighbors don’t hear?”
Bakugou couldn’t do the long, slow thrusts anymore. Your legs had grown tighter around his waist, your calves soft and silken against his ass as he kept his thrusts deep. The butt plug was rubbing against the base of his cock as he pounded into you, his fingers swiping over your clit with little finesse, but speed and steady pressure making up for it.
“But no matter…” you continued, the words coming out in little huffs as you panted with your head thrown back. Bakugou couldn’t resist leaning down and licking a line up the length of your neck, biting your earlobe when he got to the top, “no dildo, no matter how expensive, no matter how long and fat, will be good enough. The whole time…they’ll know they’re missing out. Oh, fuck.”
All of a sudden, your thighs were squeezing tight against his hip bones, arms thrown over his back and finger scratching hot lines that would mark him even more as yours tomorrow. Then you were gasping, walls squeezing and Bakugou fought against your grip to pull out just enough so that the metal toy was rubbing just over the cleft of his head with every convulsion.
He didn’t stand a chance. There was hardly any warning before he was cumming into you, streaks of his seed dribbling out of you. He couldn’t even pump himself through it; you were gripping him so tightly and, more than that, he didn’t want to move. Everything was white hot, so he just waited it out, barely moving save for where his hand was still rubbing over your clit.
Eventually you stopped him, grabbing his wrist just as the grip of your cunt loosened around him. Then you brought his hand, glistening with moisture, up to your mouth, and broadly laved your tongue from the base of his fingers to the tips, looking him dead in the eye. You then brought his hand down to your neck, and allowed him to streak the combined fluids across and down your décolletage.
Fuck—there was no way he was going to work on his birthday next year. He’d let villains overtake the city first.
“They’ll know they’re missing out,” you breathed, and it took Bakugou a second to figure out that you were continuing your voyeuristic fantasy from before, playing it out to the end, “They might even think they understand. But the only one who will truly know, is me.”
You smiled, your eyes and grin both heavy, sleepy, sated.
“Got that fucking right,” Bakugou said, pulling out of you, his cum already dripping down your ass. He eyed it, only catching a glimpse of the glinting metal plug before your legs fell to the bed, spread and limp. He smacked your hip lightly with one hand. “Roll over.”
In no mood to argue, you flipped willingly, ass up, plug still hidden from view. The lingerie was damp in some spots from where your wetness had spilled from your pussy. He leaned his mouth towards one of the strips of elastic stretching against the swell of your ass and bit. You gasped, back arching, and Katsuki smirked as he pulled away.
“A fucking lingerie line?”
A chuckle escaped your throat. “It was supposed to be a joke, but now…”
Katsuki pinched the elastic with his fingers and snapped it, watching the slight jiggle of your cheeks as you jolted. “No.”
“But Katsuki,” you whined.
“Mm,” he amended, as close to ‘maybe’ as you were going to get. You both could always talk about the idea—truly ridiculous idea—later. Katsuki put a hand on one cheek under the strips of lingerie and spread it.
There was the plug, a stainless steel handle. It was thin and shaped like an oblong donut, not like one of those cheap bejeweled things. This one, even just what he could see of it, screamed quality, and, for a moment, Bakugou wondered again what it would be like to wear. If you’d gotten it in, he sure as fuck could. And he did hold a certain anatomical advantage in using it.
He put his thumb and forefinger to the phalange and gave the toy a twist, pressing it just slightly deeper into your hole. You groaned, your voice low and deep in the pillow like when he gave you a back massage. He smirked and kept at it. Seemed this was a birthday gift for him after all.
“Katsu, don’t tease,” you moaned. “Sensitive.”
Bakugou, however, had no mercy. He flipped you over again, pulling a little yelp from you, and then picked you up bridal style, carrying you off the bed.
“Where are we going?” you asked, your voice suddenly much more awake.
“Shower,” he answered simply. He squeezed the meat of your upper thigh. Not quite your ass but close enough for the point to be made. “I’m not done with my present yet.”
792 notes
·
View notes
Text
Champange Bubble (Butt)
It all started a couple of weeks ago over the holidays. Josh spent a quiet New Years with his sister and her gay roommate Michael. At first Josh was skeptical of the off tasting champange Michael was pouring, but a mere few sips in Josh felt one of the best buzzes of his life taking over. Three or four drinks later Josh was drunkest he had been since college but was too giddy to think anything of it.
Josh woke up on the couch the next morning with the worst hangover he ever had. To make matters worse he felt sore all over his body, like he had done a tough workout the day before. “Shit.. maybe I’m getting too old for these wild nights of partying.” A groggy Josh gathered up his things to go, and thank his sister and Michael for hosting.
“Sure thing Joshy,” Michael cooed “let’s do it again sometime,” Michael punctuated this point with a quick slap to Josh’s left ass cheek. At this moment, Josh realized that the primary site of his soreness centered around his rear end. Not wanting to prolong the awkward situation any further, Josh sheepishly walked away absentmindedly rubbing his ass.
Over the next couple of days the soreness in Josh’s ass only got worse and he could have sworn he felt it growing. His normally form fitting briefs were now riding high on his ass cheeks giving him permanent wedgies whenever he took a step.
As he walked around his apartment he felt a noticeable jiggle with each footfall, a feeling entirely foreign to the ex college athlete who had retained his muscle tone for years since graduation.
By the next week, not a single pair of Josh’s underwear fit and he was packing some major junk in the trunk. Forced to go commando the slightest movement in his pants would reveal the top of his crack. Determined to not let this sudden weight gain weird him out too much, Josh ordered a collection of new work out gear in the hopes to shed the holiday weight that congregated around his ass.
When the package finally arrived at his apartment building he ran down to the lobby to fetch it from his doorman. Hank the sixty year old doorman had held this post for fifteen years and the whole duration of Josh’s residence at the upscale apartment complex. The made small talk before Hank handed over the slick package containing Josh’s new clothes.
Josh fumbled with the slippery exterior of the bag and dropped it just front of the desk. Not thinking about his new condition Josh swiftly turned around and bent over to pick up the package before hearing the sound he had dreaded for the last few days.
RIPPPPPPPPPPPPP
Josh’s form fitting chinos split down the back, exposing his bare ass cheeks and crack to his dignified older doorman. Always a respectful servicemen, Hank quickly stifled his laugh and averted his gaze to give Josh some privacy.
“Hank, I am so sorry this is so embarrassing, I don’t know what’s happening. Since New Years my ass has been growing like crazy. I don’t even normally go commando, just nothing fits anymore. Please don’t tell anyone about this!”
“Of course, it’s my job to demonstrate the utmost discretion when it comes to our residents. Let me escort you up to your apartment to preserve your modesty.”
Hank walked Josh upstairs, keep a close distance behind Josh to cover the gapping hole in his pants, taking in the sight of his massive ass cheeks the whole way up the stairs and out of the lobby. As they reached Josh’s apartment he quickly pressed his back against the front door trying to preserve the vestiges of his dignity.
As Hank turned to leave he said “You know Josh, my son told me about a new type of Champange that him and some of his more, how should say, colorful friends tried it’s called Hubbly Bubbly and I think it’s supposed to have some effects like the ones you experienced. Might want to check and make sure you know who was pouring your drinks on New Years.” A wave of understanding shot across Josh’s face.
“Good luck with all of that” Hank smirked while gesturing to Josh’s hind quarters.
“fucking Michael” Josh cursed as he defiantly stomped his foot on the ground, sending a jiggling sensation across his cheek and his lower back, enlarging the gapping hole in his pants ever so slightly.
It was then that Josh began to plot his revenge.
39 notes
·
View notes
Text
Parisian Nights, Parisian High (Gigi Goode x Nicky Doll) - strangersophia
A/N- Hi! This is a fic that I posted in parts on my account, but thought it would be nice to submit it as one somewhere. It’s based on the song Paris by Sabrina Carpenter!
Summary: When model Gigi Goode’s flight to Paris is delayed, she meets Nicky Doll. And something about that French accent makes her want to know infinitely more.
Read on AO3
“it’s so romantic in Paris
won’t even try to compare it
thought I was sure that I’d find it
but I already have love in L.A”
With her trolley of suitcases trailing behind her, Gigi looked up at the scheduled flights. After being offered a place in a high-end fashion show in Paris, she had booked the first flight she could that week. And that same flight had now been delayed eight hours. Anyone else would go home at this point, wait it out and come back when needed- but Gigi couldn’t bring herself to sit through another bout of LA traffic in an uncomfortably long Uber ride. So as any other workaholic would, she took her bags and set herself up at a nearby table, laptop open and ready to work on her upcoming editorials she needed to submit.
It wasn’t much longer than an hour before she found herself sharing the table with someone else who needed a workspace- and as it turned out, Gigi now had more things to be nervous about than a delayed flight. While Gigi was never the type to get flustered, she found it near impossible to keep focused when she was sat next to the girl next to her; the platinum blonde hair combined with the sweet smell of rosewater and ivy were difficult to ignore. Not long after she sat down, the blonde turned towards Gigi and spoke in the most melodious French accent she had ever heard.
“Excuse me ma’am, do you have a charger I could borrow? I noticed we have the same laptop and, well, mine is almost dead.”
Gigi stuttered for a moment before processing what she had said, replying,
“Uh- yes. Yes! Of course.”
“Oh wonderful! Thank you dearly. I would have brought my charger, but I didn’t expect to have an eight hour wait ahead of me.”
Gigi stopped in her tracks when she heard this. “Oh, your flight is delayed too?”
“Yes, unfortunately. I’m just trying to get home to Paris but it seems it’s going to take longer than I thought.” The girl sighed, plugging in her laptop.
“Paris?” Gigi enquired. “I’m on the same flight, I believe.”
“Well isn’t that perfect! We have each other to pass the time!” Gigi could have sworn at this point she felt her heart give way at the thought of eight hours with the most beautiful girl she had ever seen.
“My name is Nicky by the way.” The girl said, resting her chin on her hand and smiling at Gigi.
“It’s lovely to meet you Nicky. I’m Gigi.”
After general introductions and shared frustration over delayed flights and rude airport staff, Nicky asked why Gigi was going to Paris. Nonchalantly, Gigi told her- trying her best to hide her insane excitement under a mask of sophistication.
“No. Way!” Nicky exclaimed upon hearing her story. “You’re in this year’s fall runway? My best friend runs that thing!” Gigi had to stop her jaw from dropping to the ground.
“Seriously? You mean you’re friends with Crystal Elizabeth?”
“Oh yeah. We go way back. I’m sometimes the makeup artist for her shows!”
At this point, Gigi was pretty damn sure that meeting Nicky must be some sort of fate. While she wasn’t one to usually listen to the universe, she couldn’t exactly ignore the messages right now.
“That’s crazy!” Gigi finally replied after a moment of shock. “So what brought you to L.A.?”
Nicky’s face dropped slightly at the comment, Gigi noticed.
“Well, I’d been visiting my boyfriend over here for a while. But, things turned sour and we had a fight. I told him I didn’t want to see him again, and I booked the first flight I could back to Paris. I only packed my bags about three hours ago, and - well - now I’m here.”
While Gigi could sense the pain in her voice, she also couldn’t help but notice the pure relief in her words.
“I’m so sorry to hear that, Nicky. You deserve better. And I hope you find that in Paris.”
Of course, in Gigi’s ideal world that meant they would fall in love then and there, and live together forever. However, the mention of an ex-boyfriend stung a little as Gigi crushed any idea she had of Nicky being anything but straight.
“It is what it is. C’est la vie.” Nicky responded, tying her blonde hair into a loose ponytail.
“Well, we now have about five hours til the flight,” Gigi said, “and I’m getting hungry. How would you like to come grab dinner with me?”
“I would love that. A junk food airport dinner is somehow actually exactly what I need right now.”
Both of the girls opted for burgers and fries, a comforting meal considering their situation. Gigi had learnt over the course of dinner that Nicky was not only beautiful but she was hilarious- Gigi couldn’t help but laugh every time she made an incredibly sarcastic comment, or when she couldn’t pronounce words in English, to her own frustration (which was the cutest thing Gigi had ever seen.) And Nicky felt the same way about Gigi- she thought maybe the reason she kept messing up her words was because it was hard to focus on anything but the face of perfection in front of her. They ended up talking for hours. It turned out they both had a passion for makeup, design, and fashion- and Gigi showed Nicky all the photos of the looks she had been working on in return for a peek at Nicky’s upcoming work with Crystal. When it finally came to the time they had to check in and go to their gate for boarding, Nicky hesitated when they got to the desks.
“Actually… I have to go to the first class check in.” This was returned with raised eyebrows and a smirk from Gigi. Nicky laughed, “I know, I know, fancy rich French bitch, but trust me, this wouldn’t usually be the case. I just had to book the flight so late that they only had first class seats left.”
“Oh, you poor baby.” Gigi giggled, as Nicky just winked and joined the queue for first class. But not before turning to Gigi and saying softly,
“See you on the other side.”
“why’d it take so long for me to know this?
scared to put the water with the roses
halfway ‘cross the world for me to notice
but I notice, yeah, I notice, yeah”
The ten hour flight from LA to Paris was the hardest Nicky had been on yet. Sure, she was in first class. But she couldn’t stop thinking about Gigi. Which concerned her, considering she had broken up with her boyfriend that morning and had only just met this girl a few hours after. Not to mention the fact that Gigi was, well, a girl. And while Nicky had always known she was pansexual, she had never fallen for a girl before. But something about her… something made Nicky sure that Gigi was something special. And she knew for sure that it wouldn’t be the last time she would be seeing her. Which is why Nicky got out her phone, and opened Instagram. She remembered seeing Gigi’s name all over the photos she had shown her, and thought she would put it in and see what came up. And there, on her screen, was Gigi’s account. After minutes of deliberating, Nicky decided she didn’t care how much of a stalker she might look like, and she tapped follow- hoping she wouldn’t regret it later.
The long flight was no easier for Gigi. Consumed in the memory of Nicky’s smile, her laugh, her accent- the idea of relaxing was impossible. And Nicky’s last words to her repeated constantly in her mind.
“See you on the other side.”
So that meant she wanted to see her again. ‘There’s one thing,’ Gigi thought, ‘but what if she doesn’t? What if it was all just a way to pass time for Nicky, and she’s forgotten all about me since getting on the flight?’ Gigi was snapped out of her thoughts as the pilot announced the plane landing, and Gigi made sure to take some photos of the city from above to put on her Instagram later. It suddenly occurred to her that earlier, Nicky had shown Gigi her Instagram page, and she could remember the handle- @nickydoll. Frantically logging into Instagram, she saw a notification pop up:
@nickydoll started following you.
It took everything within Gigi to not throw her phone down the aisle of the plane as she stared at the name on her screen. While she couldn’t remember giving Nicky her Instagram, she concluded that Nicky must have remembered her name and searched for it herself. Which, in all honesty, made Gigi’s heart flutter a little bit. Gigi followed back instantly, and didn’t hesitate to look through almost every one of Nicky’s posts. By the time she finished, it was time to get off the plane and see where Paris would take her.
As Nicky got off the plane, she deliberated whether she should wait for Gigi or not. Upon doing this she realised she would be crazy not to- but she decided to wait until she would see her at the bag carousel where they would be picking up their luggage. Gigi spent the entire time at border security keeping her eye out in case she saw Nicky around, but gave up after a while in fear of looking way too desperate. But as she got to the bag carousel not too long later, she noticed a familiar patterned coat matched with shoulder length blonde hair and realised it was exactly the girl she had been looking for the whole time.
“Excusez-moi, belle.” Gigi said, tapping Nicky on the shoulder. As Nicky turned around she found it hard to cover up her excitement, not only from seeing Gigi but also at the fact she called her beautiful. Not that she was reading into it or anything- it was probably just a subconscious comment. But still, two could play at that game.
“Bonjour, ma chérie.” Nicky replied, smirking. It was a good thing Gigi didn’t understand much French, because if she knew that Nicky just called her ‘darling’ then she might have melted right there. But she just smiled, and asked,
“So how was first class then huh? Must’ve been the best flight ever.” Of course Nicky could protest to that last part, but she wasn’t about to admit that- so she simply replied,
“It was definitely a luxury. You should have seen the food they served me!”
“Oh girl, anything would be luxurious compared to the shit I had to eat.” Gigi laughed, grabbing her suitcases from the carousel.
“Anyway,” Nicky started, “how are you getting to your hotel?”
“I was just going to call a taxi I guess. I don’t really know my way around or anything yet.”
“Oh, well, I was going to offer if you wanted to get a lift with me. My friend is picking me up, and I already texted her asking if she would be okay giving you a ride. She’s American actually, from New York. I think you’d like her.”
“Nicky, that’s lovely of you to offer but I wouldn’t want to interrupt anything, it’s-”
“No, Gigi, honestly. I’d love to get you introduced to Paris.”
Gigi’s face softened as she smiled at the girl in front of her.
“Okay. Thank you so much, I owe you big time.”
They walked outside the terminal together, Nicky texting her friend to make sure they were picked up from the right place. As soon as they got to the carpark, Gigi saw a woman about the same age as the both of them - maybe a bit older - waving out the car window yelling,
“Bonjour ladies!”
“Jackie!” Nicky yelled back, running to the car and greeting her friend. “Jackie, this is Gigi. Gigi, Jackie.”
Gigi smiled and waved. “Nice to meet you, Jackie.”
After exchanging conversation and giving addresses, Gigi found out that Jackie was a performer and model who moved to Paris four years ago for an opportunity similar to Gigi’s, and had been living there since- with frequent visits to New York. There was one point where Gigi couldn’t pick up on the two friends’ conversation, as they began speaking in French- but from what she could deduct, they must have been talking about Nicky’s ex-boyfriend. What Gigi didn’t realise was that a good portion of the conversation was regarding her, and Jackie’s sneaking suspicion that Nicky felt some sort of way about Gigi. Jackie argued that there was no way Nicky would have invited just anyone to drive home with her- she knew all too well that Nicky was far too cautious around anyone she didn’t trust. But Nicky attested that there was nothing there, as she was trying to convince herself at the same time.
Once the three arrived at the hotel Gigi was staying at, Nicky got out of the car to help with her bags.
“Oh yeah,” Nicky said nervously, “I hope you don’t mind, but I followed your Instagram earlier. I thought it would be nice for you to have someone to contact if you need anything here.”
Gigi blushed, replying, “I did see that- and I don’t mind at all. I followed you back actually.”
“Good, you better have! Cause you have way more followers than me and I want more now.” Nicky laughed.
“Sorry girl, I can’t help being this beautiful,” Gigi said with an exaggerated hair flip.
“You really can’t, can you?” For a split second moment, neither of them said anything as they made eye contact and let Nicky’s comment sink in.
Gigi broke the silence first- “Anyway, thank Jackie again for the drive ‘cause I seriously appreciate it. And thank you for keeping me company Nicky. Hopefully our paths cross again soon.”
“I agree, ma chérie. Have a wonderful night now, sleep well.” And with a quick blow of a kiss she hopped back in the car, leaving Gigi to go up to her hotel room and stalk Nicky’s instagram until she fell asleep. And sleep well, she did.
“took myself where I think I should be
something told me that it’s waiting here for me
Parisian nights, Parisian high, Parisian breeze”
Over the course of the next four days, Gigi had not only started rehearsals for the show, but she had spent a good amount of time with Nicky. As it turned out, Nicky had discussed the show with her best friend and producer of the show - Crystal - and was hired to help with the design and marketing side of things, which Nicky really just took as an excuse to see more Gigi. So while Gigi spent most of her time at rehearsals with the other models, she often got chances every now and then to spend a moment with Nicky- who usually always had Crystal by her side. But when rehearsals finished for the day, Nicky would always find Gigi before she had a chance to leave, take her by the hand, and drag Gigi to her favourite bakery a block away. There, they would order coffee, eat pastries, and discuss anything and everything. At first, Gigi would go back to her hotel after an hour, so she could do work and get ready for the days ahead of her. But by a few days in, the two were spending hours together every day. And Nicky was sure she had to do something to really solidify their relationship. So she talked to Crystal, and between them they planned a small afterparty for the runway show, hosted by Nicky and involving the two of them plus Gigi, Jackie, and Jaida- one of the other models who Gigi had become good friends with. Crystal and Jackie were entirely on board the idea of getting Nicky together with Gigi that night- and unbeknownst to them, Gigi had been planning the same thing with Jaida.
When the night of the runway show rolled around, Nicky couldn’t help but be even more in awe of Gigi than usual. That girl sure knew how to work a runway, and look incredible doing it. Nicky even made the point of buying a bouquet of flowers for Gigi, which she gave to her after the show along with a ‘casual’ kiss on the cheek. Gigi was on cloud nine the entire night- not only had she performed in the biggest show of her career, but she was sure that she had won over the prettiest girl she had ever met. Once the five girls all met up at Nicky’s small house, bottles of alcohol were started and finished one after the other, and the whispers of hooking up got louder and louder. About an hour and a half into the party, Gigi took a seat in the corner by herself- but was met hardly a minute later by none other than Jaida.
“You liking your party, girl?” Jaida asked Gigi over the sounds of loud music and singing.
“I’m loving it. I can’t remember the last time I felt this happy.” Despite talking to Jaida, Gigi couldn’t keep her eyes off the blonde girl dancing in the middle of the lounge. Nicky was wearing a tight gold mini dress - which, frankly, had been driving Gigi crazy all night - and she was twirling her hips in time to the song playing. She truly had Gigi hypnotized.
“Well, I see that your focus is somewhere else right now,” Jaida said sarcastically, following Gigi’s eyeline, “and I don’t blame you.”
This caught Gigi’s attention, and she turned and smiled softly at her friend.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do, Jaida. I like her so much, but I don’t want to scare her off.”
“Oh honey, please, that girl is not scared of you. She’s the complete opposite! I don’t think she could keep away from you if she tried.”
And at that same moment, Nicky turned and winked at Gigi, strutting towards her with an arm extended.
“Dance with me, mon doudou!”
Gigi laughed and looked at Jaida, who simply smiled and raised her eyebrows. Before she knew it, Gigi was wrapped up in the arms of a somewhat drunk Nicky, who was pulling Gigi closer every second. Once they were tightly face to face, Nicky stopped singing along to look at Gigi and say, in a completely slurred voice,
“Gigi, you’re so preeeeetty. I’ve never seen anyone as pretty as youuu. Je t'adoreeee mon bébé.”
‘Note to self’, Gigi thought, ‘Nicky flirts in French when she’s drunk.’
It wasn’t until then that Gigi noticed a pair of hands caressing her face, and as much as she wanted to keep going in the moment, she knew it was the wrong time while Nicky was this drunk.
“Alright party girl, let’s get you some water shall we? And you wanna leftover croissant?”
Nicky grinned even wider at this, nodding and following Gigi where she led her. They ended up alone in the kitchen, and Gigi managed to get a fair amount of food and water into Nicky as best as she could.
“Whyyy are you taking care of me?” Nicky asked as she sat on the counter in front of Gigi.
“Because I care about you. And I kinda need you to stay sober tonight.”
“You’re the best person I’ve ever met, Gigi!”
At this point Gigi knew she couldn’t take anything Nicky said in the next hour seriously, so the rest of the night turned into a pretty long waiting game.
A few hours later, the party side of things had died down and the girls all sat on the couches chatting together. Nicky had luckily almost completely sobered up, although that could probably be thanks to the fact she threw up twice in her bathroom, rather than all the caregiving she got from Gigi. Either way, it was a good thing for both of them. By about 2am, Jackie and Jaida had already left, and Crystal was ready to say her goodbyes. Both the girls hugged her as she left to the door, and Gigi was sure she heard her whisper something in Nicky’s ear along the lines of “you’ve got this, I’m rooting for you.” Honestly, it was no secret to Gigi the plans that the girls had made for them that night. And she sure wasn’t mad about it.
With Crystal gone, both of the girls knew what had to come next- but whether they were entirely confident on what to do with that information, was a different story. The house seemed quiet without the other girls, and with the music playing only softly in the background. Gigi couldn’t remember when the upbeat music turned into a playlist of slow, sultry songs, but she thought it set the mood pretty perfectly. Nicky flopped down on her couch, patting the cushion next to her to get Gigi sitting beside her.
“Thank you for tonight,” Gigi said, “I’ve had a lot of fun.”
“Of course, I’ve had fun too. I think we all needed a bit of a party after all our hard work.”
Gigi nodded quietly, looking down at her feet.
“I’m glad I met you. Truly.” Nicky said, hoping to get a reaction from Gigi. And she did- Gigi looked up and smiled at her.
“I feel lucky to have met you, too.”
It was as if they both felt the moment click, and Nicky placed a hand softly under Gigi’s chin, lifting her face towards her own. And almost as if in slow motion, their lips met.
Only suddenly Nicky pushed Gigi away, moving back in her seat and putting her hands to her face.
“Gigi, I’m sorry. I can’t do this.” Nicky frantically whispered. Gigi stood up, staring at Nicky.
“What do you mean, you can’t do this?”
Nicky just looked at the other girl blankly, trying to figure out something to say.
“Just… I can’t. Not with you, not right now.”
“Wh-what does that mean?”
“I’m sorry, but please just-”
“What the fuck am I supposed to do, Nicky? What do you want me to say?” Gigi started raising her voice so she was practically yelling. “That I’m fine with the fact you’ve led me on all night, for days even, and now you say you can’t do this?”
“Gigi, please don’t make this a big deal.” Nicky pleaded, but Gigi was already on the verge of tears.
“So this isn’t already a big deal? This doesn’t matter to you, none of this has fucking mattered to you? Nicky, you can’t act like you have no idea how much of my time I’ve dedicated to you, how much I’ve thought about you, and then when I finally think we could be on the same page, you turn on me. Just like that.”
Both of them in tears now, Nicky whispers,
“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Well it hurts, Nicky. It fucking hurts.”
And without a second thought, Gigi left through the front door and didn’t look back.
“if you show me too much love, it makes me leave
guess that’s one of many things that’s wrong with me
looking past you when you’re right in front of me
i won’t do that anymore, i won’t do that anymore”
The next week was hell for both of the girls. Crystal had offered Gigi a spot in her offices as an intern for the rest of the time she was in Paris, which meant she would be working in the same place as Nicky. While the office wasn’t small by any means, it was still easy enough for the two to cross paths- outside Crystal’s office, by the kitchen, through the corridors. Gigi would always walk past quickly, making sure her eyeline never met Nicky’s once. This, of course, just made things worse for Nicky, who already felt like crying every time the girl was close by. It was fair to say she was regretting her actions- and despite feeling like she should be mad at Gigi for yelling at her, she couldn’t find it within herself to be anything more than heartbroken.
After three days of this, Nicky called Jackie when she got home from work, broken down in tears.
“Jackie, what the fuck did I do? I ruined it. I ruined it like I always do.”
“Please don’t say that Nicky. Remember what you’ve been through, and remember how brave you are. I know you, and I know that none of this is your fault. So please, for the love of god, don’t beat yourself up over this.”
“But I lost her. How am I meant to forgive myself if the only thing I do is make my own life worse?”
“Your life doesn’t depend on any boy or any girl, ok baby? Take some time for yourself. I’ll be here if you need to talk, and you’ve got Crystal and all of your other sisters.”
“Thank you Jackie. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Nicky ended up talking to Jackie for six hours that night. She needed a distraction- anything to get her mind off Gigi. Around 1am, Jackie finally convinced her to get some sleep and take the next day off work. And after hanging up, Jackie decided to send a message to Gigi.
1:04am @jackiecox: Hey Gigi, it’s me, Jackie. I’ve just been talking to Nicky. I think it might be time that you two talked to each other and sorted something out, because I don’t know if I can deal with seeing her cry for three hours again because of how she feels about you. I care about both of you, and I can’t see why you should carry on like this.
When Gigi first read the message, her instinct was to reply instantly, telling Jackie that she was sorry and horrified and never wanted to go a day without Nicky ever again. But instead, she took a breath, and typed out what she felt was a more appropriate response.
1:10am @gigigoode: Thanks for reaching out, Jackie. But I don’t think I’m ready to do that just yet.
1:12am @gigigoode: When Nicky tells me herself that she’s ready, that’s when I’ll be ready. Because I’m not risking it again.
The next day, Gigi stumbled out of bed a little more carelessly than usual. She knew she would have to see Nicky again, and knew it would be more painful knowing now what had been going on behind the walls she had put up. So she got to work as last-minute as she could without being considered late, going straight to her desk and putting her head down to work. While she wasn’t necessarily keeping an eye out for Nicky or anything, she found it strange that by midday there was still no sign of her. And she found it even stranger when Crystal walked by her desk and asked if she had seen Nicky that day. Somewhat taking advantage of the situation, Gigi decided to work late and didn’t get home until 8pm that night. And yet, still no sign of Nicky. So, she grabbed her phone and took matters into her own hands.
8:11pm @gigigoode: Nicky, look, I know you’re probably mad at me. Or scared. Or both. But you can’t just stop coming to work, I think you already know I’m over it okay? Can’t we just remain civil?
No reply. At this point, Gigi was pretty sure her suspicions were correct in presuming she was the reason Nicky had been so absent. So after a few hours, she decided to try again.
11:56pm @gigigoode: Whatever, I get it. But there’s no point in hurting both of us.
After half an hour with no response, Gigi opened a bottle of gin and settled down for the night. It was the only way to repress the anxiety creeping into her mind; the more she thought about why Nicky could possibly be ignoring her this hard, the more she worried. Just as Gigi was about to give up hope on getting any sign of life, her phone finally lit up.
12:57am @nickydoll: Gigi I’m sorry, I swear I’m not mad at you.
It took a minute for Gigi to realise she had actually got a response. But it wasn’t enough for her. What she really wanted was an explanation. So she opened the message, and waited.
1:08am @nickydoll: But yes, I’m scared. I’m scared because when I look at you, I know how I feel, and it scares the shit out of me. And I wish I could go back in time and kiss you again but it feels impossible because I’m not used to letting anyone love me, okay?
1:10am @nickydoll: You wanna know why it was so easy for me to just up and leave LA like I did? Because my boyfriend was the worst person in the world. He abused me, he manipulated me, he used me, and he lied to me. So when I saw the opportunity, of course I used it to escape. And I guess that’s why I clung to you that day at the airport, because it was the first time in so long I felt like someone saw that I actually existed, and didn’t just see me as a pile of broken parts. I felt something when I talked to you. And when you kissed me… my heart knew it was right, but my mind told me to shut it out because I’ve been taught not to trust people like that. So I put up my walls. And I’ve shut myself off from you because every time I see your face it reminds me of just how broken I am, and how badly I wish I could fix myself. Or find someone to fix me. But I know I can’t put that responsibility on you. So I’m sorry if you’re hurting, Gigi, but just know it hurts me more.
1:16am @nickydoll: Still, I know I can’t change what I did to you. But if you want me, I’m here.
1:20am @nickydoll: I’ll always be here.
By the time Gigi finished reading the messages, she was already halfway out the door, her vision blurred by tears. She should’ve known she was being selfish. Nicky deserved so much more. And Gigi wanted nothing more than to be the one who could give her the world. So if it meant turning up on her doorstep at 1:30 in the morning, she was willing to do it. By the time her Uber arrived at Nicky’s house, it was nearing 2am. After pacing for a minute outside the door, she built up the confidence to do what she needed to do and knocked five times. No answer. She tried knocking again. And again.
“Nicky, what the fuck.” Gigi muttered under her breath. Surely there was no way Nicky had gone out at this time of night- so Gigi assumed she was inside and ignoring her on purpose. Getting out her phone, she dialed Nicky’s number and waited for an answer. And to her surprise, she heard a voice pick up the call.
“Gigi?” It was Nicky. But not by herself- there was music in the background… and voices.
“Nicky? Where the fuck are you? I’m literally at your house right now.”
“Merde. I’m sorry. Be there in five.” And with that, she hung up.
At this point, Gigi didn’t know what to do. Or what to think. Or where the hell Nicky had been. So she sat down on the doorstep and waited for her to arrive. And surely enough, in five minutes, she did. And when they came face to face, neither of them could bear to say a word.
“if I asked that girl to jump, i know she would
she don’t even have to say, it’s understood
she treat me nice, she treat me right, she treat me good
still I get so hesitant, still I get so hesitant”
As Gigi stood in front of Nicky on the steps of her front door, neither of them had a clue what to do. But as soon a single tear rolled down Nicky’s face, all doubt slipped Gigi’s mind and she stepped forward and hugged her as tight as she could. Nicky melted into the embrace. And soon enough, both of them were crying quietly in the glow of the streetlights, holding on to each other as if that was all they needed to survive. Because in that moment, it felt true.
When the moment felt right, Gigi pulled away to look Nicky in the face. She had a full face of makeup, now ruined with mascara running down her face and lipstick smudged.
“Hey, let’s get you inside and get you cleaned up, yeah?” Gigi said almost in a whisper, met with a small nod from Nicky as she opened the door and led them both inside. Once they were in the house, Gigi got a chance to look at Nicky properly. She had tall heels on which made her almost a head taller than Gigi, and she was wearing a mini skirt which left her with bare legs that were barely covered by the large coat she had wrapped around her.
“Why did you come here?” Nicky asked nervously as soon as they got in the door.
“Why did I come here? Because I was worried about you, Nicky. You weren’t answering my messages and I felt horrible. And then when you sent me that message, well, no amount of things I could have texted you would have conveyed how I felt. I needed to come here, and explain how sorry I am for being such a bitch to you.”
“Gigi, I never thought that about you. Just so you know.”
“Even still, you deserved better, okay?” After a moment of silence, Gigi knew she had to ask what she had been wondering since Nicky turned up.
“So, are you gonna tell me where the hell you’ve been? Because I’m still gonna be worried until I know what you’ve been up to.”
“Gigi, I don’t think you wanna-”
“Please. You can trust me, okay?”
“Can I go get changed first? You can sit down on the couch if you want. I just want to be comfortable, if that’s okay.” Nicky looked at Gigi pleadingly.
“Of course, baby. Take your time. I’ll make us some tea.”
Ten minutes later, Nicky came back in pyjama shorts and a hoodie to see Gigi sitting on the couch with her legs curled up, holding two cups of chamomile tea. When she sat down, she was met with an expectant look from Gigi.
“So? You wanna explain?”
“I was at a club.” Nicky said quickly, looking down and playing with her hands.
“That’s all?”
Nicky kept looking down. “Well… it was… a gentlemen’s club, you know.” She looked up at Gigi who was obviously trying to appear as unbothered as possible- but she could sense the shock.
“Before you say anything, I’m never going back there again. It was a bad idea for me to go back there tonight anyway.”
“What do you mean, go back there?”
Nicky sighed before explaining everything. “Before I moved to LA, my work wasn’t doing too well here in Paris. I needed another way to make money, so the only thing I had left to turn to was working for an escort company. It was while I was doing that when I met my ex-boyfriend, who was visiting Paris from LA and would hire me all the time. We got to know each other, and after a month he convinced me to move to LA with him. Looking back, I was completely manipulated, but I didn’t notice until it was too late. Anyway, I swore I would never go back to that industry. But the past couple days have been so hard, that I just needed any way I could find that would take my mind off of things, you know? So I went back. But now I just feel worse about everything, and I feel so, so, stupid.” Gigi grabbed both of Nicky’s hands and looked into her eyes.
“Nicky, you are not stupid. You were going through a hard time and you made a bad choice. It’s okay. These things happen. But I’m not going to judge you for it and you shouldn’t beat yourself up for it either.”
“I don’t deserve you, Gigi. You’re too good for me.”
“Doll, please, don’t say that. You are the sweetest, bravest, most talented person I have ever met. And I’m not just saying that. From now on, I want you to trust me and know that everything I do is because I care for you. You are extraordinary. And you always will be extraordinary in my eyes, no matter what.”
Almost instantly after she finished her sentence, Nicky grabbed both sides of Gigi’s face and kissed her with all the intensity she could. At first Gigi was completely stunned, but after a few seconds she relaxed and let her hands find her away around Nicky’s waist. Nicky had no idea how she had gained such a surge of confidence, but she did know that she had never been more sure of anything in her life. She wasn’t scared anymore, because she had Gigi. And in that moment, that was all she needed.
Once they both broke away from the kiss, Gigi was smiling harder than Nicky had ever seen- and Nicky reciprocated her reaction.
“I’m glad you finally came around,” Gigi said, “because I’ve been dreaming of that moment for a while now.”
“Oh believe me, I have been too. But I only now stopped my mind from getting in the way.”
“Well, I’m glad you did. Cause I could get used to this.” Gigi laughed, and Nicky leaned in for one more peck on the lips. This turned into another passionate kiss, but after a while they both pulled away in fear of taking it too far, too fast.
“As much as I’d like to continue,” Gigi said while stroking Nicky’s hand with hers, “you have had a long day and we both need a rest.” Nicky pouted, but knew Gigi was right.
“Should I call an Uber?” Gigi asked. “I don’t wanna be in your way if you want some time alone.”
“Are you kidding me? You are staying here as long as I can keep you.” Nicky replied, earning a smile from Gigi. “And correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think either of us are gonna be up for going into the office tomorrow morning.”
“Oh, yeah, I am definitely going to need a sleep in tomorrow. I’ll call Crystal in the morning.”
“Alright then. Do you wanna borrow any pyjamas?”
Gigi looked down at herself and remembered the fact that she was in such a hurry to leave earlier she had actually just thrown a hoodie over her pyjamas and left.
“I’m good actually, I can sleep in what I’ve got on. But thank you.”
“Ok, let me know if you need anything though. And I don’t know where you want to sleep, but…”
“I’m fine to sleep wherever, honestly. I can sleep right here right now if that’s easiest.”
Of course, Nicky would ideally have Gigi sleeping in her bed already. But, she didn’t want to rush anything. So she offered her the guest bedroom that she kept ready for any friends she had sleep over.
Once both of the girls had gotten ready to sleep, Nicky went to Gigi’s room to make sure everything was set up properly for her. And, really, she wanted to make sure she had a chance to truly thank Gigi for everything.
“Hey Gigi, everything okay here?”
“Oh, it’s perfect. Thank you so much for letting me stay over.”
“Of course. And actually, I wanted to come and say thank you. If you didn’t come over tonight I don’t know what might have happened to me.”
Gigi got up from her bed and pulled Nicky into a soft hug, whispering, “I’m glad I did come over. I couldn’t bear to think of you hurting.”
Nicky smiled gently and, walking to the door, said, “Well, I’m glad you’re here. Goodnight, ma chérie.”
“Nicky, wait-” Gigi said before the door could shut, “what does that mean? Ma chérie? I’ve heard you call me it but I’ve never known what you’re saying.”
“It means, my darling.”
And with that, Gigi was left feeling more in love with Nicky than ever.
“je ne voulais pas trouver l'amour
mais paris a quelque chose
qui donne envie d'aimer, d'aimer passionément”
That morning, Gigi woke up slowly to the sound of Nicky crashing around in the kitchen making either breakfast or lunch, depending how long Gigi had slept in. As she listened closer, she could hear her singing some song in French. Gigi had no idea that Nicky had such a beautiful voice- she closed her eyes for a minute to take in the happiness she felt in being woken up by the sound of the prettiest girl in the world- the girl that had kissed her not once but twice in the past 24 hours. As she turned over to check the time, she noticed her phone screen lighting up beside her.
9:35am @jaidaehall: UMMMM YOU + NICKY = BOTH NOT AT WORK???
9:37am @jaidaehall: You better not be all sulky and depressed now too, or else I’m gonna come over there and make you snap out of it.
9:45am @jaidaehall: Like for real, the reason you’re not replying better be because you and Nicky are making out and not because you’re staying at home all petty I sweaaaar
Reading the messages from Jaida made Gigi giggle to herself, and she knew Jaida would die if she told her what happened with Nicky. So she decided to make her wait a little longer, just for fun.
10:12am @gigigoode: hahahaha i’m literally at nicky’s house right now. will explain tonight ;)
10:13am @jaidaehall: BITCH OMG
10:13am @jaidaehall: Just so u know, make up sex is the best sex okay?
10:15am @gigigoode: lol, shut UPPP
And with that, Gigi got out of bed slowly and made her way to the kitchen where Nicky was standing in front of the stove, occupied by her phone. Before she even noticed Gigi in the room, she felt a pair of arms wrap around her waist from behind.
“Good mooorning.”
“Oh bonjour, princess.” Nicky said, turning around with a wink. Gigi loved how she was already calling her pet names- it felt like they were dating already.
“Did you sleep okay? After everything?” Gigi asked, with her arms still draped around Nicky’s waist.
“It took me a while to get to sleep because I couldn’t stop thinking about everything, but I didn’t sleep too badly.” Of course, by ‘everything,’ Nicky meant that she could not stop thinking about Gigi’s lips on hers last night- and Gigi’s night had been pretty much the same.
“Yeah, same here. So, what did you want to do today then?”
The two girls spent the day at Nicky’s house curled up on the couch together, watching a marathon of movies- both in French and English. Nicky loved explaining all her favorite French movies to Gigi, and seeing her gradually fall in love with them the same as her. When the end of the day came, both of them decided it would be best for Gigi to go back to her own hotel room for the night, since they had to go to work the next day and Gigi still had things she had to prepare. So after a dozen goodbye kisses, Gigi made her way back to the hotel, still basking in the fact that traces of Nicky’s perfume were left on all of her clothes.
At work, it was impossible to keep the two apart. In fact, Crystal noticed and gave them projects to work on together, discovering that they actually made an extremely efficient and talented team. The next week for Gigi was spent back and forth from her hotel to Nicky’s house, alternating where she would stay for the night. It was on the third night staying at Nicky’s house that she first slept in the same bed as her. That particular night was filled with torrential rain, and a thunderstorm that began around 1am. Gigi had always hated thunder, so upon hearing it she decided to go into the kitchen and get something to drink, to try to take her mind off of the noise. This woke Nicky up, who tiptoed into the kitchen to see if Gigi was okay.
“What’s wrong, mon coeur?” She whispered upon noticing Gigi huddled up with a glass of orange juice.
“Sorry baby. I just got woken up by the thunder and couldn’t sleep.”
Taking her hand, Nicky said, “That’s okay, you do what you need to do. I mean, if you want, you could come join me in my room. You know, so I can keep you safe.”
Gigi smiled warmly. “I think I would love that.”
“Ok, well, I’m going to go back to bed and you join me when you’re ready, yeah?”
Gigi nodded, and Nicky gave her a kiss on the forehead before going back into her room.
After finishing her drink, Gigi slowly opened the door to Nicky’s bedroom- admittedly, very nervous.
“Come here, ma belle.” Nicky said sleepily and patted the other side of the bed. Gigi had never slept in a bed with silk sheets before, so getting into Nicky’s bed felt like a luxury. Not to mention the fact that she was sleeping next to Nicky. Both of them faced each other as they lay down, and Nicky started to stroke her fingers through Gigi’s hair and down the side of her face.
“Gigi, you’re perfect. You know that right?”
“I could say the same about you, doll.” Gigi flinched as a particularly loud bout of thunder struck. Nicky put a hand on her side and pulling her closer, whispering,
“Hey, I’m here. You’re okay.”
“Thank you, I’m okay. I just jumped, that’s all.” Nicky nodded, starting to trail her fingers softly up and down Gigi’s arm, giving her goosebumps.
“Try and get to sleep, baby.” And with that, Gigi felt safer than she ever had before- and she fell asleep in no time to the rhythm of Nicky’s breaths.
Since that night, Gigi fell asleep in Nicky’s arms every time she stayed over.
And she loved it.
In the last week of Gigi’s four week stay, she ditched the hotel room all together and stayed with Nicky every night. They had game nights with the other girls, they had movie nights, and they had quiet nights where the two of them would sit on the balcony talking for hours, drinking red wine under the stars. Life felt perfect. However, both of the girls knew that Gigi’s time in Paris had to end at some point, and Nicky still had been too scared to bring it up. Until one night when they were arriving home from work, when Nicky forced herself to ask Gigi about her flight home.
“So, I’ve been wondering, what day is your flight again? Is it next week?”
“It was meant to be this coming Monday, yeah.”
“Meant to be?” Nicky replied curiously.
“And that brings me to what I was going to tell you tonight.” Gigi said, dragging Nicky’s hand to sit them both down on the couch,
“Nicky, I’ve been given a job offer. Or at least, an interview for one. Crystal recommended me to a big designer who wants me to not only be a model, but also help with the design of their new line for the year coming up. If I get the job, I guess I’ll have to move here. Permanently.”
“Holy shit, ma chérie this is amazing!” Nicky yelled, grabbing Gigi into a huge hug.
“I mean, don’t get your hopes up too much baby. I still don’t know if I’m gonna get accepted.”
“Still, even so, I’m so proud of you. You’ve been in Paris for a month, you’ve only just turned 22, and you’re already making a name for yourself. You amaze me, Gigi.”
“Thank you, Nicky. Honestly, I couldn’t have done it without you. You’ve been my rock through all of this.” Nicky smiled, and Gigi kissed her quickly.
“Now, I don’t know about you…” Nicky started, as she swung her leg over Gigi to straddle her, “but I think we should be celebrating this win.”
Gigi looked up at the girl on top of her, smirking. “Oh, you think so?”
Nicky could barely fit in an “mhmm” before Gigi pulled her down by the waist, kissing her passionately. In less than a minute they had gained a rhythm, Nicky grinding on top of Gigi and running her hands through her hair. Gigi grabbed the back of Nicky’s tight shorts, causing her to moan into the kiss. To get her back, Nicky pinned Gigi’s wrists down on either side of her, and began trailing kisses starting from the top of her neck all the way down to her collarbones. And
pulling the neckline of her shirt down just a little, she left a dark hickey at the top of her chest. Once they got back to kissing, Gigi’s hands found their way under Nicky’s shirt and she traced circles all over her stomach. Nicky began to pull her shirt over her head, but Gigi took her hand for a second.
“Nicky, babe, you sure you wanna do this? I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”
“I’m more than sure, mon bonheur.” And as she spoke, she threw her shirt on the ground leaving her in a light red lace bra. Gigi took a moment to take the sight in, in disbelief of how she got so lucky as to end up with someone so perfect in every way. And without hesitation, she ripped her own shirt off and threw it down next to Nicky’s.
“Wanna take this somewhere we have more room?” Gigi said breathlessly, met with a nod from Nicky who was already dragging her by the wrists to the bedroom. Before she knew it, Gigi was already pinned down to the bed without her clothes on, enjoying every moment of what the blonde girl on top of her was doing. Most of the time was spent that way- save the moments where Gigi found her head between Nicky’s legs, finding out that Nicky did not keep quiet when she was satisfied (which Gigi loved, and did her best to evoke).
It was fair to say that the two enjoyed each other’s company, in every aspect of their lives. When people talk about humans being made out of stardust, there was no doubt they would have been made from the same star. It was the only explanation as to how they fit each other so perfectly, and neither of them could imagine it being any other way.
“mon coeur est à toi pour toujours
you will always have my heart.”
When the day of Gigi’s job interview finally rolled around, it was almost impossible for her to get out of bed. Of course, she was incredibly excited for the opportunity she had been given- but at the same time, she couldn’t quite escape the chronic overthinking part of her brain. So as she lay in bed sleepless for an hour before her alarm went off, she went through every possible thing that could go wrong in her day. That was, at least, until Nicky woke up. It was hard to stay reluctant when you are greeted in the morning by your girlfriend on top of you showering your entire face in tiny kisses, telling you how amazing you are. Oh yeah, girlfriend. Gigi still couldn’t believe she could use that word. It was all because of one night the previous week, where Nicky had fallen asleep on the couch during one of their movie nights. When it got late, Gigi decided to scoop the sleeping girl up the best she could and carry her to the bedroom. Nicky woke up halfway through the process, but kept her eyes shut until she reached the bed. And when Gigi lay down beside her, Nicky - who was still half asleep - mumbled quietly,
“Thank you Gigi. You’re the best girlfriend ever.” And just like that, she was back to being fast asleep.
The morning after, Nicky remembered what she had said in her sleepy trance. As soon as Gigi woke up, Nicky instantly asked,
“Did I say anything to you last night? I don’t remember what was a dream and what actually happened.” Gigi laughed, and started intertwining her fingers with Nicky’s.
“Well, you did say something about me being the best girlfriend ever… or something along those lines.”
Shocked, Nicky stammered, “Shit- Gigi, I’m sorry, I know we haven’t discussed that yet and I didn’t mean to-“
“Hey,” Gigi cut her off, “If you feel like you’re ready, it would be an honour to be your girlfriend, Nicky.” Nicky’s eyes brightened, and she squeezed Gigi’s hand tightly.
“It would be a dream come true.”
So since that day, they considered themselves an official couple- and every one of their friends never heard the end of it.
That day, however, Gigi felt more lucky than ever to have a supportive girlfriend like Nicky. She was the one who motivated her to get her work done, get the interview booked, get out of bed, get ready, and finally get her ass interviewed. And she was also the one who was there to celebrate when Gigi came home grinning, gushing about how amazing the interview went.
“She said she was impressed by my work. Violet Chachki liked MY work! And not only that, but she said she wanted to work with me from the moment she saw my portfolio.” Gigi could almost cry, she was so happy. Not only about the job- but about the heightened possibility that she could be spending the rest of her life in Paris with Nicky. And surely enough, she received a call only two days later offering her a position. Nicky hosted a wonderful party for Gigi with all of their best friends, a lot of dancing, and a lot of alcohol. It almost made them forget about the fact Gigi was still due to fly back to LA in a few days time. She would only be gone two and a half weeks - just enough to get everything organised back home for her move to Paris - but Nicky knew it was going to feel like a lifetime. When the day came that they had to say goodbye at the airport, it was a mess- mascara stained coats and puffy eyes boarding the flight, knowing they would see each other soon again but still torn at the idea of missing each other’s touch. They video called every day, getting used to the change in time zones that meant Gigi would wake up when Nicky was having dinner, resulting in many pretend dinner dates while Gigi ate her breakfast. Gigi enjoyed spending as much time as she could with her mother before leaving LA for good, while Nicky spent her time catching up on everything she had missed with Crystal. But the eighteen days they spent apart from each other only made them realise how much of an impact the other had made in their life. Nights felt a little bit colder, and days felt a little bit longer. It was hard to put a finger on exactly what felt different– rather it just felt like a small piece of their life had gone missing. What both of them did know, however, was the love they felt for each other. Every video call they kept the three words on their lips, neither of them letting it out in fear of rushing the other. So their love went unspoken yet strongly felt; in every exchange they had where they would lock eyes and feel it rise in their throats, or every time they would hear the other’s voice and at the same time hear their heartbeat pound a little louder. When the day came that they reunited in Paris’ airport, it was as if their wiring reconnected from the first embrace, lighting up their lives once again.
But even when they got back home and Gigi unpacked her belongings - for good, this time - Nicky still found it impossible to spit out the words she so desperately fixated on. The same went for Gigi, who had planned for the moment the entire flight home but lost all conviction when she set foot in the airport. That night, however, Nicky knew she had to do something about it before they fell asleep. Which was a decision she made as she watched her girlfriend get ready for bed, as they usually did.
“I missed this.” Nicky said, sitting next to the sink waiting for Gigi to finish brushing her teeth. Gigi spat out her toothpaste and turned to Nicky, confused.
“You missed me brushing my teeth? Out of all things?”
“I mean, it was the small things I missed. You know? Like this, getting to watch you get ready for bed and do your adorable nighttime routine. Or going to bed and having someone to warm my cold feet. Or getting out of bed in the morning and hearing music coming from the kitchen. And I missed having someone to correct me when I used English wrong, I missed having someone to sing with me in the car in the mornings, and I missed having coffee with my girlfriend after work.”
Gigi was tearing up at this point. It felt so crazy that anyone could feel that way about her. And she knew what Nicky meant– those were all the things she had missed too. Nicky stepped towards her, and pulled her into a deep hug.
“I love you, Gigi.”
Gigi melted into her arms. “I love you too, Nicky.” Pulling away, Gigi softly put her hands around Nicky’s face, and kissed her with more desire than she had ever felt. And at that very point in time, it felt like the entirety of Paris was their own. The city of love shined just for them, in all of its heartache and glory. From their Parisian high, they never wanted to come down.
#rpdr fanfiction#gigi goode#nicky doll#gigi x nicky#hurt/comfort#fluff#a little smut#smut#s12#strangersophia#tw manipulation#tw suggested abusive relationship#tw prostitution#submission
43 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Magpie and Her Bandit (cuz I’m bad at titles): Chapter 1
I don’t usually post my fics, but I was feeling courageous so... This takes place about 8 years after Supernova when Maggie and Max are in Grade 12. This is in Maggie’s POV, but the next one will be in Max’s. This isn’t edited so don’t be too harsh. Other Chapters
The necklace shone brightly in the midday sun, catching the eyes of many of the surrounding people. The lady wearing it seemed to know this and had a haughty look on her face as she made her way down the street. Maggie knew this lady as Mrs. Mallard, a rich widow who never missed a chance to show off her wealth. She was arrogant and rude and Maggie felt no pity as she used her telekinesis to undo the clasp. The necklace dropped and the bustle of the busy street kept anyone from noticing. Maggie picked the necklace from the ground and quietly pocketed it. Then she casually walked away, towards the Everharts'.
No longer a mansion, the Everharts lived in a nice four bedroom house. This was more than enough for the three people who lived there, Max, Hugh and Simon. When she finally reached the house she knocked on the door, shivering in the cold November air.
"It's open" called Simon from inside.
Maggie quickly went into the warm house, locking the door behind her.
"You should really keep it locked," she said, "someone might break-in."
"Oh don't be so paranoid." Simon said, "Besides, Hugh just went out to grab something. He'll be back in a bit, so I didn't bother to lock it. No big deal."
Maggie rolled her eyes. These people had forgotten what it was like to live with caution. Luckily she still remembered how to live safe.
"Is Max upstairs?" She asked. When Simon nodded she headed to his room.
When she entered the room, Maggie saw that Max was working on his scale model of the old renegades building. She flopped onto his bed and picked up the book at his bedside.
"Architecture For Dummies?" Maggie said "Do you really need this? You're already great at architecture and all that junk."
"Maybe," Max said doubtfully "but the others who are applying to the college are too."
Max had decided a few years back that he wanted to become an architect. He worked tirelessly throughout high school and now that they were in their last year, Max was working harder than ever.
"Oh come on," Maggie said, trying to motivate him "No one can out-nerd you." Suddenly something caught Maggie's eye.
"Hey, what's that?" She asked, using her telekinesis to pull it towards her.
Max snatched it out of the air.
"Not something for you to steal."
"I wasn't gonna steal it."
"Sure," Max said sarcastically. "This is too important for you to take. It's an engagement ring!"
"For who?"
"Nova," Max said enthusiastically.
"Hate to break it to you, but she's already taken." Maggie smirked "And by your own brother no less! You must feel so betrayed."
Max rolled his eyes. "Adrian is gonna propose to Nova and he wanted me to keep it hidden until then. He knows Nova will find it if he keeps it in their apartment."
"So the Galton's favourite couple is finally tying the knot," Maggie said dryly. "You must be excited."
"As a matter of fact, I am," Max said. " I know you don't like Nova, but this is going to make her and my brother happy."
"Whatever," Maggie said. Secretly though, she was happy that Adrian was going to be happy. He was always nice to her. Even when he caught her stealing.
"That's the spirit!" Max said, knowing that Maggie was happier then she let on.
Maggie's stomach growled.
"Want to go get something to eat?" Max asked.
"Ooh, tacos!"
"We had tacos on Wednesday. I want pizza."
"We always get pizza. How about shawarmas?"
"Fine"
When they reached the shawarma place they saw that Ruby was there already. Despite Maggie's protests, Max insisted on saying hi.
"Hey, Ruby!" Max called.
Ruby turned and waved. Max and Maggie made their way over to her.
"Hey, guys! How are you?" She asked, "Maggie, I haven't seen you in so long."
"We're fine" Max answered for her.
"Oscar's coming from the bathroom," Ruby said. "Do you guys want to join us?"
Max agreed before Maggie could make up some sort of excuse. When Oscar returned from the bathroom he greeted them. He and Maggie then went to order food while Ruby and Max chatted.
"So Magpie," said Oscar "how's life been treating you?"
Maggie had always liked Oscar since he wasn't nearly as rude as Nova. Plus he always used to treat her like a little sister. That is, before he and Ruby moved in together. Now all he had time for was Ruby.
"Fine I guess," she said, "How have you been?"
"Good." He said, then his eyes softened "I've missed hanging out with you though."
Maggie felt her heart go soft. She missed him too. Then she remembered that this was how life was. People always left you and you couldn't blame them. They would always find someone better.
"Yeah, well." She muttered.
Oscar opened mouth to say something but before he could the cashier called them to order. After they ordered, they sat back down with their Max and Ruby. They started to discuss Adrian's plan to propose. Ruby and Max went on and on about the flowers and decoration ideas they had. When the food finally came, Maggie hoped it would make them shut up. She had no such luck. By the end of the meal, she wanted to tear her ears out.
"This was nice," said Max.
"Definitely," said Ruby. "We should double date more often."
"Whoa now!" Maggie said, "Max and I are just friends."
"Really? I could have sworn..." She started under her breath.
"Oh yes!" Max said enthusiastically "Maggie and I are just friends."
He looked at Ruby pointedly, "Nothing more."
A look of understanding came over Ruby’s face.
Maggie was slightly confused with Max's behaviour. She shrugged it off, telling herself that he was bothered by Ruby's idea. This irritated her. Was it that terrible to be considered her boyfriend?
Maggie used to have a crush on Max when they first became friends, but, not wanting to risk their friendship, she let those feelings fade away. She actually told Max about this a couple of months ago and they both laughed it off. However, he had been acting strange since then. Maybe he was starting to doubt their friendship. Maggie's heart dropped. What should she expect? People always left her eventually. Even her sister left her.
"Hey, Mags, are you okay?" Max asked as they were walking back to his house.
"I told you not to call me Mags." Maggie said, "It's sounds like rags." She did not want to be called rags.
"Sorry," Max said. Then he looked at her, concerned. "Are you upset about what Ruby said? She didn't know."
"No that's no big deal." She smiled at him "We're pretty much used to it by now, aren't we?"
It was true. People had always thought they were dating. Probably since they were always together. Was she becoming too clingy? Her doubts began to rise again.
“Oh,” Max exclaimed, “How about we go to the Cosmopolis Park?”
In the last few years, Cosmopolis Park had become incredibly popular. Everyone wanted to visit the place where the famous Nova and Adrian had their first date. Maggie had never been a fan of amusement parks, but Max loved them so she usually went along with him.
“Fine,” Maggie sighed. It couldn’t hurt, could it?
Looking back, Maggie wished she had said no.
#I CANNOT MAKE DRAMTIC ENDINGS#theyre hard okay#im sorry if this is bad#it was fun to write tho#this fic actually might get a bit long#i have a bunch of ideas#im sorry the title is weird#i cant title things#renegades#renegades trilogy#archenemies#supernova#supernova spoilers#maggie artino#maggie#magpie#max#max everhart#maggie x max#max x maggie#ship#renegades fanfic#my fic#sketch's team#The magpie and her bandit
78 notes
·
View notes
Text
Tax The Rich [alternative title: Out]
Ramón Morales x Reader
Request from @im-just-babey: Hey bro, could I request a Ramón x reader where the reader has a wealthy but shit family.
-Rules for requests can be found here-
Word Count: 2,046
Note: For a while the only thing I had for this fic was “tax the rich” so that’s the title now. Also, you may have been expecting something where they’re rebellious and it’s all a big huge middle finger to the stuck up wealthy family, but uh it’s been a while since I wrote some spooky fuckery -since Ham Sandwich Boys- so I took the liberty of leaning more towards that. Sorry this took forever to post, thank you for your patience.
Ramón scrunches his nose, the house was as big as the mansions his aunts would tell him about. Si nomas vieras, ya parecen castillos.
Looking around at the extensive foyer, he takes in the double staircase and stained glass ceiling piece above him, he doesn’t feel right. Stepping foot into the lavish home was a mistake. Ramón needed to be on the road again, not letting himself get distracted by whatever this was.
He’s not gonna tell you that, of course. Something told him to follow along with your eager eyes and smile.
“Well, what do ya think?” you ask as you jump on the first step of the left staircase. Ramón smiles and takes another look at the “french polish” you had mentioned on the staircase railing, whatever that meant.
“It’s… a lot, but it’s nice.” he responds dryly and laughs at the unimpressed look on your face.
“You would hate listening to the guy that designed this house,” you begin to walk up the stairs as you imitate ol’ John, “Ah yes, I told Doris myself that the finishing Italian light oak stain would not be proper for the west study. Why, it would clash terribly with the evening sunset.” sending you two into a fit of giggles until you hear footsteps upstairs.
Ramón steps back from the stairs, “You sure no one's home? I don't want any trouble and I should get going anyway.”
You were confused too, your parents have been out for a week and the maids were given the weekend off, “No, I thought everyone would be out by today.” you respond, peeking at the empty hall upstairs. Even your siblings had planned a small trip to the beach for a couple of days without you.
Suddenly, you see your younger sister walk out of her bedroom, “And who’s that? Does dad know you’ve got a little friend here or should I tell him?” she snickers.
You roll your eyes, “Go ahead, I’ll join you and together we’ll see what he thinks about your secret powder stash you’ve got in your room.” you snap back, glaring at her as she descends from the right staircase.
“Fine,” she scowls and takes a quick look at Ramón before leaving, “but you better take out the trash while we’re out.”
Ramón’s face gives away his discomfort and as you begin to apologize for your sister’s rude comment you hear a loud thud above you. “Did you hear that?” you ask him. You could’ve sworn the two of you would be alone by now. Another muffled thud, still somewhat louder than the first.
“C’mon.” you wave him over. The two of you walk through two hallways and another flight of stairs, reaching the third floor living room. Then you hear it again, something shuffling from the attic, “Great.” you sigh.
Sharing an anxious look with Ramón, you pull down the squeaky attic ladder and stare into the darkness. "I haven’t been up there in a while.” you whisper, “It’s been under construction since the beginning of the year.” The attic was being remodeled as a space for you and your siblings, a plan agreed by everyone before they all started being complete assholes.
Ramón begins to climb up the ladder, "How many rooms do you really need?" he jokes and reaches for the temporary light switch on the floor beside the opening. He takes note of the iron set of lights over the double pool tables, the dark leather couches, the soft bearskin rug and a tall bookshelf that extended across the east wall, interrupted in the middle. The attic was half finished, but there was no sign of a recent disturbance. “Nothing’s up here.” he tells you.
You warily climb up the ladder, stand over the hardwood floor and look around. “They told me renovation was to be completed next month,” you eye down the dark unfinished half of the attic, “It had stopped a few weeks ago due to a ‘change of plans'.” you form air quotes with your fingers. You walk underneath the overhead attic light and listen to its strange buzz.
Ramón walks around one of the pool tables, rolling the cue ball under his palm, "What's that over there?" he points at the far corner of the unfinished half. The corner had boxes piled one on top of the other, held in place by bricks and several wood planks leaning against the pile.
You shrug, "The small closet, it might still be there behind all the junk."
Suddenly, you hear heavy breathing behind your right ear, making you both whip around as you slowly get closer to Ramón. You see nothing. Still, you couldn’t shake off the feeling of being watched.
"You uh, forgetting to tell me your house might be haunted?"
"Shit, I- no." you stammer, he raises his eyebrows. "I don't know, okay? I've been having weird dreams of the old maid since we let her go about a month and a half ago. I always see her standing at the edge of my bed.” you explain, remembering your last nightmare of Mrs. Clarice. You also recall dreams of another woman growling from inside your bedroom mirror, often joined by disembodied voices that would cry for revenge, curses and to be “let out”. You never understood the pain and anger in their words, until now as you stand on the other side of the tiny door. The tiny door anyone could just seal and forget about...
"Let her go?" Ramón interrupts your thought process, "Got any clue where she went?"
"Well, my parents had also fired two other maids after her and they never told us why, nor did I think much about her absence until I began to have the nightmares.” you explain, panicking at the thought of what really happened to the three women. “Shit, you don’t think my parents-” you can’t bring yourself to finish your question as you begin to hyperventilate. Your head runs wild with possibilities of the women’s fate and what the closet could be hiding from the world.
You notice Ramón stand in front of you, blocking your view of the corner. He takes your shaky hands and asks you to slowly breathe in and out. “For all we know, those women are probably fine and you’ve just got a family of rabid raccoons holed up in there.” he suggests.
“What about my nightmares? She tries talking to me and I hear other voices. She seems like she’s angry and crying for something, like she’s hurt or-”
“Trapped?”
You wipe tears away from your eyes, glance at the pile behind him and nod, “I might find her or something there.”
His silence is alarming and you turn to look at him, expecting an annoyed glare for dragging him into the situation. Instead, he turns around and takes a few steps back. You hear a floorboard creak under Ramón's foot, which somewhat prompts another thump from the boxes. Along with the buzzing of the overhead light that grows loud and erratic now.
Ramón turns to you wide eyed and as he’s about to speak, there’s another thump and a plank falls. Your heart begins to pound against your chest and you begin to hear a faint voice in your head, one of the few from your nightmares. “Out. I need out. Out. Out. Let me out.”
You feel an invisible pull from the corner, sensing the voice in your head calling for you from underneath the pile. Suddenly, you feel Ramón grab your elbow, "Wait, I don’t think it’s a good idea to get closer."
"Someone is in there, behind all that. I can feel it." your eyes begin to sting, but you refuse to look away from the pile.
Ramón feels it too, there is someone else in the attic. Their presence heavy on his shoulders, pressing on the back of your necks. Angry. Demanding. He knows that they, whoever they are, is not going let either of you leave now.
"Fine, but we gotta be careful about this." he sighs and reaches for a long hammer inside an abandoned toolbox by the wall.
The two of you walk closer and hear ragged breathing from under the mess. He pokes one of the bottom boxes with the end of the hammer, but nothing moves. Your shaky hands begin to gently remove the planks and bricks. In silence. One by one. Ramón takes two boxes off from the top, surprised by their weight and opens both to find them full of sand. He attempts to push one of the larger boxes at the bottom, but it seems too heavy to move with one arm alone.
“Someone’s definitely been hiding something in there.” he points out, “Do you still wanna dig through this?”
You can still hear the voice ring inside your head, “Out. Out. Out.”
“No, I don’t,” you shake your head, “but we also can’t leave this, can we?”
He hums in agreement and the two of you continue moving the rest of the boxes. One by one as you remove the boxes, you notice an awful smell. Ramón notices as well and he asks again if you’d like to continue.
You don’t, but you grab another box.
You just want to get this over with.
You grab another box.
You just want the angry hissing in your head to be gone now.
Finally, you get to the bottom, the two of you work together to remove the remaining bulk. Once the last box in front of the small door budges, a pungent smell seeps out. You gag and Ramón begins to cough.
“Yup, there’s a dead body in there.” he declares and covers his nose with his jacket. He was right, any remaining hope you had of finding something else is gone now.
You turn to look at him, “I’m sorry,” you cough, “just wanted to show you around and hang out. Not discover a fuckin’ body in my attic.” you give the box a kick.
Ramón smirks under his jacket, or maybe it’s a grimace; nevertheless, he wiggles his eyebrows, “It’s alright, just another casual hang out with a brat inside their castle. The usual.”
You laugh and shake your head, “You haven’t even seen our giant kitchen.” you quip.
Thanks to Ramón, you feel numb, or rather prepared for the other side of the door. Sure, you barely met the guy only this morning and you’re on the brink of discovering what could be a corpse in your own home, but you feel like you can trust him. He could’ve left you to face this on your own, especially when he’s been itching to leave, yet he’s sticking around. You believe he’s simply interested enough to stay, but the concern in Ramón’s eyes tells you otherwise. He’s choosing to stay and face whatever is on the other side of the door with you.
“Alright, if anything jumps out, grab the hammer.” you bury your nose into your sweater, knowing it may not even mask the foul odor, but it wouldn’t hurt to try anyway.
On the count of three, you and Ramón push the last box away. The closet door is worn down and bits of the wooden panel in the middle stick out from the inside. You grab a nearby flashlight, turn it on and slowly open the door. The voice in your head dies down with a final “OUT.” and the buzzing of the overhead attic light stops.
Sure enough, you’re met with a swarm of flies, several maggots and three figures wrapped inside what used to be white sheets. The smell is overpowering and although you feel the urge to run from this, your eyes are drawn to the holes made at the mouths that have been cracked wide open, fear frozen in time. Above them each are two black circles, oozing dark liquid from underneath the sheets.
You hear Ramón gag and you open your mouth to scream, yell, anything. Nothing. You attempt to reach for Ramón, barely able to move an inch. You turn your head to check on him. As soon as your eyes meet, you hear a pop echo from the closet.
Then, as clear as day, a groan.
“Out.”
-Feedback is always appreciated-
#ramon morales#scary stories to tell in the dark#ramon morales x reader#ssttitd#mine#this could be waaaay better
23 notes
·
View notes
Text
So we took the New Jersey Transit to New York City
The modern coach bus goes to the 42nd Street Port Authority. The Port Authority is one of the many hubs of ground transportation in NYC. Most of your major bus companies are located there and you can make connections with almost every subway line via a walking tunnel to Times Square. The rail hubs are Grand Central Station, connected by subway shuttle from Times Square, and Penn Station, a two-stop jaunt on the subway. The subway system in Manhattan is the quickest and most efficient form of transportation on the island, with stops within four to six blocks of each other. The system used to be confusing with many independent lines designated by different letters: IRT, BMT, etc. Today the various routes are designated by colors and either numbers or letters. A map shows all of the routes and their connecting points. The subways system today is very easy to follow. It is also safe, contrary to some people's perceptions. Here are a few little known facts about the system. The tunnels go at least eight stories below the ground. There are miles of mazes even under the tubes themselves, where the homeless have made their homes. On one of the lines from Manhattan to Queens, the tracks literally ride on water under the East River. Even engineers do not know how to correct the problem. The money collected at the ticket booths is sent by a special train which travels the system. The trains are very long, at least ten cars in length. Most of the cars have benches along the sides, which leaves most of the car for standing room. There are three exits on each side of the car, which allows quick entrance and egress. The riders are called strap hangers, because they hold on to straps hanging from the ceiling while riding. The newer cars post the next stop on signs in the car. Some even have a map of the route and the present location of the car lit up on the map.
The city of New York consists of five Boroughs: Kings (Manhattan), Queens, Bronx, Brooklyn, and Richmond (Staten Island). All of the boroughs are connected by subway or train or bus, except for Staten Island which is serviced by the famed ferry. More about the different areas when we visit them.
Went for desert at Cafe Lalo, where part of the movie "You've Got Mail" was filmed. Then we walked up Broadway to Fairfield Market, a few blocks South of World famous Zabars, a grocery and kitchen appliance store (but so much more: an experience). I was surprised by the variety of fresh produce and meats, fish, and poultry and relatively low prices. The aisles are very narrow in the store, due to the fact that space is at a premium in Manhattan. Buy an unlimited Metro Pass, $21.00 for the week, and hop on a Downtown bound bus on Broadway. Downtown means towards the Battery, the Southernmost point of Manhattan.
Uptown is Northbound and Cross-town is either to the East River(East Side) or the Hudson River(West Side). What a wonderful and safe way to see the city. We passed by Columbus Circle, the edge of Central Park, Julliard, Lincoln Center, the Theater District, and of course glitzy vibrant Times Square. The bus then turned East on 42nd Street and passed by the Public Library, Grand Central Station, and ended at The United Nations Building.
As long as fate brought us there, we toured the famed United Nations building. Mati from Senegal in Western Africa, was our tour guide and was very knowledgeable about the workings of the UN. It is not the paper tiger that some people claim it is. It is a real forum for all of the nations of the world to discuss mutual concerns: military conflicts, land mines, disease, hunger, trade, etc. Perhaps the real tigers are the ones who want to control the other nations or make huge profits by fostering these problems. Some of the Chambers were in use, namely the Security Council, and the Council for Economic and Social Justice. They were in session.
The Lexington Avenue bus goes further Downtown. Along the way we passed Chinatown, the Bowery, Little Italy, skirted Greenwich Village, and ended at city hall. There are so many different types of restaurants in NY that you could eat at a different one every single night and not repeat yourself for your entire lifetime.
Today we rode the subways. First we went Uptown to the Northern tip of Manhattan to Tryon Park and the fort. This is the highest point on Manhattan, overlooking both the Hudson and the East Rivers. At the northern most point of the park is The Cloisters Museum. This unique museum consists of five medieval cloisters rescued from buildings being demolished in Europe, along with chapels and numerous artifacts. Some of the statuary was being used as scarecrows by farmers, while others were found in junk piles. One outstanding room is the Unicorn Tapestries, which tell of the hunt, death, and resurrection of the unicorn-a symbol of Jesus Christ. The tapestries contain over one hundred different species of medieval plants woven into the stories. They are just breathtaking not only from their beauty but also from the textures of the weave.
We went back to Times Square and then hopped on the route #7 subway to Queens and Flushing Meadows, the site of the 1963 Worlds Fair with its massive sculpture of the world. On either side of the train station are Shea Stadium, home of the NY Mets baseball team and Arthur Ashe Stadium, site of the US Open Tennis Tournament. Back on the train to Times Square and on to W route to Coney Island at the tip of Brooklyn. We ate a Nathan's World Famous Hot Dog. It cannot compare to a Chicago Vienna Hot Dog. The amusement park was closed, open only on weekends while school is in session. The Cyclone, their famous roller coaster, had just closed up. Thank our growling stomachs for this lack of timing. It is open daily from 12:00 to 4:00. The coaster does not look like much. But looks are deceiving. This baby shakes, rattles, and rolls. I wanted to see if it still gave me the same thrills as the last time I rode it in 1963. But that was to be for a later day, which never came.
This day was reserved to visit the grand dame of New York City, the Statue of Liberty. Taking the train to Battery Park at the lower tip of Manhattan, we purchased our tickets at the Castle Clinton, once a fortress guardian for the harbor, then a concert venue (the American debut of Jenny Lind), then an immigration port of entry, and now the ticket office for our lady. Circular in design, it is only fitting that one must pass through a fortress to gain access to greet the great lady. On the fifteen minute boat trip to Governors Island it is easy to imagine the awe and deep feelings of overwhelming joy of the millions of immigrants who first envisioned her while sailing through the Verrazano Narrows into New York Harbor. The statue, donated by France over one hundred years ago, stands on another fort, one of five which guarded the harbor. The pedestal rises eleven stories and the lady herself stands one hundred fifty-one feet. Once again security is very tight and visitors are not allowed either in the museum, on the pedestal, or into the crown. But just being in her presence was as said in Hebrew, "Dayenu" (It would have been enough).
Embarking on the boat again we went to Ellis Island, built in 1892 to process the great flood of immigrants. Both of our ancestors arrived before that date, so they might have come through Castle Clinton, AKA, Gardens or a different port of entry. Charlie Walker was our Ranger tour guide. Once a drill instructor, he has a voice to match. He also missed his calling to the stage, because the tour he gave was more of a living presentation with a cast of characters than a boring recitation of facts and figures. polyamorous dating site He definitely loves his job. The experience of Ellis Island was reserved for passengers in steerage class. Remembering the movie "Titanic", steerage was the lowest of the low. The passengers in first and second class were processed on board ship. After they disembarked, the ship proceeded to Ellis Island. There the steerage class ran the gauntlet of the eyes of the inspectors. I was reminded of the pictures of the holocaust where the prisoners were "selected". If you walked funny, protested, or looked frail, your clothing was chalk-marked for further inspection and processing. Many of these people were fleeing tyrannical regimes and were terrified of uniformed men. Here in America they were being ordered about by more men. Families were separated, while the processing took place- men on one side and women and children on the other side of the room. The good news is that the process generally took less than five hours and only 2% of the twelve million immigrants were deported back to their home lands. The ones who remained took the trains Westbound out of New Jersey or stayed in NYC, digging the subways or other back breaking jobs.
Arriving back at Battery Park we walked to Broadway. At the entrance was the sculpture of the Peace Globe which stood in the World Trade Center Plaza. Miraculously it withstood the tragedy and is now at the foot of Broadway being kept vigil by an eternal flame. Although damaged, the globe still stands for peace in this world.
Walked through the financial district, which looks like a war zone, barricades and armed police patrolling the area. Our goal was Federal Hall at the corners of Nassau, Broad and Wall streets. Federal Hall was the first capital of the United States. Here Washington was sworn in as president and the Congress met. The building has long been torn down. In its place is a Neo-Classical designed building, Parthenon-like exterior and Pantheon-like interior. Used as a customs house and then as a depository for US gold reserves during the Civil War, it is now a museum remembering our first capital. One of their prized possessions is the Bible which Washington used for his inauguration (the one that President Bartlett wanted to use on "The West Wing").
Walking down famed Wall Street, where never have so many been raped by so few (written over five years ago), we went into Trinity Church where many come to pray after losing their life savings down the street. Built in 1696, the church has withstood many Wall Street crashes. Notable people buried there include Alexander Hamilton and Robert Fulton.
Many people talked to us about visiting St. John the Divine Cathedral. Happily, we took their advice. Started in 1892, this Gothic house of worship is over two football fields in length. The cathedral is still unfinished, but is still spectacular. Each set of stained glass windows has a different theme: poetry, medicine, law, etc. Standing in the immense interior is a humbling experience not to be missed. Around the high altar are side chapels, one which is reserved for local artists to show their work. At this time the children from the Cathedral's school have their artwork on display.
From St John's is a short bus ride to Grant's tomb, where he and his wife lay at rest. The interior is similar to Napoleon's tomb in Paris. Mrs.Grant chose New York, because the people were kind to them after they had become penniless. The tomb sits high on the palisades overlooking Riverside Park and the Hudson River.
Adjacent to the tomb is Sukaru Park, so named because of the numerous cherry trees in the park, which were donated by the Japanese government. In the park is a statue of General Daniel Butterworth, the composer of Taps (remember Berkeley Plantation in Virginia). He is looking over to Grant's tomb, keeping his eyes on that hallowed ground.
Across the street is Riverside Church, a Presbyterian Church noted for its grand carillon of over seventy bells. The nave of the church is Gothic in style, but not quite as large St. John's. The Church is part of Union Theological Seminary, which is connected with Columbia University also present in the neighborhood.
Hopped on the train again to Theodore Roosevelt's Birthplace. This is a large brownstone at 28 East 20th Street. The original house was torn down and a reconstructed one was erected according the similar design plans of others in the neighborhood. His sisters, still alive gave instructions about floor plans and the arrangement of furniture in the house, as they had remembered. Roosevelt, born in to a very wealthy family, suffered from asthma. After losing his first wife and mother within the same week, he moved out to North Dakota to find himself. There he rediscovered his love for nature and the independence of the common working man. To prove his virility, he longed for a war, which he got when the Battleship Maine blew up in Havana Harbor, Cuba. The Spanish were blamed for the sinking. He formed the Rough Riders in San Antonio, Texas, and the rest is history. Of his presidency he claimed that the building of the Panama Canal was his greatest achievement. Even though he was a war monger and empire builder, he is the first American to be awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for his help in ending the Russian Japanese War.
A short distance South is Greenwich Village, not quite the Bohemian atmosphere it was in the 60s. It is still a thriving area of restaurants, small theaters, interesting shops, and people watching. Washington Square, the quasi-official entrance to the area, still has its checker and chess tables set up with games constantly going on.
1 note
·
View note
Text
Shifting a Mattress
The two figures moved across the hill, emerging from the tree-line with a large, sagging mattress carried awkwardly between them. The larger of the two, a tall man seemingly in his 60s moved backwards cautiously, in other lives he would have moved with an almost supernatural grace, but his present body seemed to guide him towards objects that were the most likely to send him sprawling to the ground. A discarded Kia-Ora Raspberry bottle slipped under his boot and did just that. He teetered in the air; clinging to the mattress while he desperately tried to remember if his current form could exert control over localized gravity fields. It couldn’t, and the realization came with a sharp crash to the ground. He ran a hand through his long, greying hair and looked up at his companion, she was still holding her end of the mattress, her face struggling to balance irritation and sleep deprivation with the urge to laugh. Her dressing gown was pulled tight, the universal sign of the unduly woken. She let her end go, falling onto the now flat mattress with a heavy thump; It was comfy -comfier than her bed- but that was student housing for you.
“Couldn’t Nardole have done this?” she said over her shoulder. The Doctor, or more accurately the TARDIS, had woken her at three in the morning, materializing in her room with a noise that he had once affectionately described as the sound of reality getting kicked in the shins. She’d flung her alarm clock at the blue box, the cheap plastic bursting into a shower of parts before it had time to strike its surface. The Doctor had burst from the box, frantically ranting about urgent matters while the remains of the clock fell around him, if she’d been more awake she would have sworn he had timed it. She pulled on her sturdiest boots, a dressing gown and sluggishly followed him into the TARDIS. Urgent matters had turned out to be the name of a mattress he needed help shifting.
“He’s on holiday, saves his off days up and then vanishes for two months every 20 or so years.” The Doctor never thought to ask him what he did during this time, if he was being honest he preferred not to know. Nardole would appear as suddenly as he left, possessing a smile that would last the next month or so and rivaled spiders and San Francisco alleyways in terms of things that filled the Doctor with a deep, all-abiding terror. Faintly aware of something scuttling inside his clothing, the Doctor made a mental note to burn his outfit and joined Bill on the mattress. From up here you could see London spill around the scrub-land, the outskirts of the Perivale suburbs visible beyond the tree-line.
“When are we anyway?”
“The late 80s, one of them at least”
“Seems a bit,” Bill gestured vaguely, the surroundings didn’t exactly fit her conceptions of the decade. “Bland.”
“Don’t let appearances fool you, you can practically smell the neon excess,” he sniffed, looking in the direction of central London. “With just a hint of Thatcherism; and on the horizon, the 90s; big changes, virgin territory.”
“And this mattress is important to that?”
“More than you might expect, personally speaking” The Doctor leapt to his feet and made to lift the mattress again, Bill sighed, readjusted her housecoat and grabbed the other side. “This mattress will save my life tomorrow, about 30 years ago from your present.”
“And you’re only just dumping it now?”
“You know how it is, you keep putting something off and then,” The Doctor gestured with one hand, sending the mattress -and Bill- dipping alarmingly to one side. “I was always making plans back then, it stated simple enough; notes from the future, reminding me to do something to make things easier beforehand.”
“Like the threatening post-it notes I leave myself when I have essays due.”
“Exactly, only in reverse and with better handwriting.” Bill glared at the Doctor.
“Saw myself as Times-Champion, unfortunately Time felt the same way,” they arrived at a pile of discarded junk, Bill thought the collection was a bit odd, even in a decade before litter fines. “When you’re busy plotting against Elder Gods, dealing with alternative universes, and avoiding family reunions little things like survival slip past you.” They set the mattress down, and the Doctor stepped back, framing the junk with his hand, it seemed close enough. Bill wandered around the pile, none of it looked particularly old. She wondered if the Doctor had brought it all here; remembering his miraculous escape in the middle of the night, roping whoever was traveling with him at the time into moving each item piece by piece over the years across the space of one night. She hoped that’s how it had happened.
They sat for a while, perched on the edge of the mattress watching the sun rise above Perivale. Her half-asleep anger dissipating with the encroaching sunlight, Bill felt content. She was watching a sunrise two years before she was born, not many people got to do things like that. The Doctor’s thoughts were darker, the coming day was the start of a long, strange time in his life. He’d done things in the name of the greater good that ashamed him, things that ate away at him in the quietest moments of his long, long life. If he nudged the mattress slightly, moved it just a few inches….things might turn out differently. But he’d also done good, stopped abominations, changed worlds, saved the day; For all his sins he had been a good man. He was a good man.
“Haven’t forget anything else, have you?” Bill laughed, the sound cutting through the Doctor’s darkest thoughts.
“You know," The Doctor scratched at his head. “I think I might have left the kettle on.” They rose and headed towards the TARDIS. The Doctor glanced back at the mattress, things would work out for better or worse. He sometimes missed those days; They were unpredictable, wild, wonderful, he racked his brain for the right word.
“Wicked.” he grinned.
#doctor who#fan-fic#12th doctor#7th doctor#survival#bill potts#ace mcshane#again#not very good#but what the fuck#spelling errors etc can be addressed to dyslexia#and laziness#virgin new adventures
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
Le Cirque Noir
For the 2018 CS Little Bang! Word count ~13,400; Also on AO3
* Let’s say 17 year old Emma got away from the cops when Neal set her up.
* Let’s say the Brothers Jones joined the Circus instead of the Royal Navy. Let’s also say they can shape-shift into big, black jaguars.
* What kind of antics can teenage!CS get into in a modern world where magic is real? Can a lost girl find her home among the “Circus Freaks”?
Grab your popcorn - the show’s about to start!
Rating/Warnings: T for swearing, sexual innuendo, brief non-graphic description of character/animal injury
Other pairings: Jewel Queen (Liam/Regina) and slight mentions of Ruby/Mulan
Many (MANY!!!) thanks to the wonderful people I worked with on this project: my beta @blackwidownat2814 who was so encouraging when I wanted to throw my laptop out the window, and artist @amorecolorfulmoniker who made such beautiful, beautiful pictures for the story! {artwork link coming soon} You have both been a pleasure and a delight.
Special shout-out to @lenfaz and @businesscasualprincess who came up with the original idea for this story which Lena made into a Halloweek edit. Ladies, I hope this story makes you smile! And, of course, to @captainswanbigbang for organizing this whole she-bang!
“Have you actually attended one of our performances, Miss…?”
“Swan. Emma Swan. And no.”
“Miss Swan. This Circus is unique. It’s a safe haven for individuals with unique abilities.”
“You mean freaks and weirdos?”
The Ringmaster scowled. “Not quite. More accurately, our performers are not exactly of this world. Sometimes they come here knowing what they are, sometimes the talent is latent, and yet this place draws them like a beacon.”
Emma held up a hand to stop the monologue. She’d heard people talking in town about this amazing circus where the magic almost seemed real, but she didn’t need a sales pitch. She needed a place to hide.
“Nice story, lady, but what the hell does it have to do with me? Or the job?” The Ringmaster’s steely-eyed scrutiny gave Emma the creeps. She quickly tucked her hands back into her jacket pockets to keep from fidgeting in her seat.
“Everything, Miss Swan,” the woman replied, cool as ice. As if this was a perfectly normal conversation to be having. At Emma’s unimpressed huff, the Ringmaster crossed her arms and arched a perfectly plucked eyebrow. “Let me ask you something: have you ever felt out of place? Like a freak, as you say?”
Emma kept her mouth shut and her body tensed, fight-or-flight instincts kicking in. She didn’t know what the hell this woman’s angle was, but she didn’t like the way this conversation was going. She just- she needed a job and to get the hell out of town. Sure, running away to join the circus was like, the biggest cliché ever, but it was the best solution available for her very immediate problem. Apparently her silence spoke volumes.
The Ringmaster narrowed her eyes and leaned forward over the old spindle-legged table serving as a makeshift desk. “Has anything strange or unexplainable ever happened when you were frightened or upset?”
For a second, Emma’s heart stopped. Her memory flashed to that parking garage two days ago. The officer’s gun pointed at her chest. Her back flat against an ugly yellow wall. The loud crack that for a blinding moment of terror she thought was gunfire until she saw the rain of sparks cascading down around her from a ruptured security light above her head. Just enough of a distraction for her to run. But that wasn’t anything, right? Just dumb luck. Besides there’s no way this Ringmaster lady knew about that.
Feigning indifference, Emma rolled her eyes. “I swear to God, if the next words out of your mouth are ‘You’re a wizard, Harry’, I’m running out of here and calling the cops.”
The Ringmaster gave her a patronizing smile. “I think we both know you won’t do that, Miss Swan. Now you said you needed a job. Do you want it or not?”
Emma bit the inside of her cheek. She really didn’t have any other options. She could deal with the crazy lady and her freak show for a while and when the heat died down, she could always ditch them later.
She nodded her head quickly. “Yeah, I want it. I don’t really have a talent or anything, but I can sell tickets or popcorn or whatever.”
The Ringmaster smiled, almost genuinely this time, though there was still an edge to it that Emma didn’t understand. “Oh, I’m sure we can do better than that. How do you feel about animals?”
Emma shrugged one shoulder. “They’re okay, I guess.”
“And you seem like the hard-headed sort.” The Ringmaster tapped an impeccably manicured fingernail on her desk for a moment then chuckled to herself. “Oh, yes. I have just the job for you. Welcome to Le Cirque Noir, Miss Swan. You may call me Regina.”
--/--
“Beast tamer? Are you kidding me?” When Regina said she’d be working with animals, Emma pictured mucking out stalls or at worst walking around the ring with a snake draped around her shoulders. Not sticking her head in the mouth of a freaking panther. Yet here she was letting Regina lead her into the center ring where not one, but three massive black panthers awaited them.
“I do not kid, Miss Swan.”
Okay, upon closer inspection it was two massive panthers and one slightly-smaller-but-fully-capable-of-biting-her-arm-off panther. They seemed well-trained at least, each perched calmly on his own small circular platform. Still, there was something eerie about the trio beyond the lethality of a jungle cat. It was their eyes, Emma decided. Each panther had eyes that nearly glowed in the dim lighting of the tent. An iridescent, unnatural blue.
As she and Regina approached, those eyes all turned toward them, and Emma would’ve sworn the middle panther was staring at her. It cocked its shiny black head to the side and showed its sharp white teeth in what Emma had the weirdest feeling was a grin. Did panthers grin? That made no sense at all. It licked its chops and Emma had about decided that she needed to get the hell out of there before it ate her alive when the largest of the panthers hopped gracefully down to the dusty floor and loped toward them.
The approaching predator immediately drew Emma’s attention. She knew better than to think she could outrun it, but maybe Regina could slow it down since it was her damn cat after all and -
Emma gaped as the panther sidled up to Regina, rose up on its hind paws, and licked the Ringmaster’s face. Regina made a garbled noise of disgust and dabbed at her cheek with the cuff of her sleeve.
“Liam, we have talked about this.”
The panther, Liam apparently, settled back down on all fours and Emma must’ve gone completely insane because the low rumbling sound the cat made distinctly sounded like laughter. It nudged it’s head under Regina’s hand until she scratched it behind the ears then trotted back to its post, sitting at perfect attention and looking immensely pleased with itself.
Regina rolled her eyes at the big cat, then turned to Emma, gesturing for her to step forward. Without waiting to see if Emma had complied, Regina addressed the three panthers, her voice booming and authoritative.
“This is Emma Swan. She has recently joined the cast of our show. She’ll be acting as your new beast tamer and I expect the three of you to be on your best behavior.” Though the instructions were directed at all three animals, at the last comment, Regina appeared to be focusing her attention on the middle panther who blinked at her as if he were bored and turned his head away.
Regina turned her back on the cats, ready now to give Emma her orders. “Liam will teach you the act. I expect you to be ready for a full performance by the end of the week. You can meet with Mrs. Lucas this evening about fitting you for a costume and-”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Emma interrupted. She’d figured Regina was just theatrical. Like one of those performers who stays in character all the time. But this was above and beyond. Talking at animals was odd enough. Expecting an animal - even an apparently affectionate and weirdly expressive one - to actually teach her a circus act was too much. Of course the person willing to take Emma in was a nut job. Of course she was.
“Liam is going to teach me?” She pointed at the panther in question. “That Liam. The one with giant paws and a tail?”
“You remember what I told you before?” Regina appeared unperturbed, as though she expected Emma’s reaction.
“All that junk about people with special abilities? I figured that was just something you told the locals to drum up business.”
“The truth can be stranger than fiction, Miss Swan.” She raised her voice, but didn’t turn around. “Boys! Come introduce yourselves.”
Liam raised his head and roared. Emma looked past Regina’s shoulder in shock as immediately all three cats’ eyes flashed blood red. Their bodies began to sort of vibrate - blurring, twisting and contracting. In the space of a few (now racing) heartbeats, three young men stood before Emma where the panthers had been, all three with dark hair and startling blue eyes.
“What the hell!” Emma skittered a few steps back, unable to process what she’d just seen. Slowly, the three stepped forward as Regina had instructed. The tiny part of Emma’s mind that hadn’t completely short-circuited found it ironic that they were treating her as if she was a cornered animal when not ten seconds ago, they’d been the ones with fur. A hysterical giggle bubbled up at the thought, but she swallowed hard to stifle it.
Regina stood aside as the youngest - apparently the small panther - reached out to shake Emma’s hand. He looked maybe thirteen years old. Thin and gangly rather like his panther self, he had the makings of a kid who would grow up to be a looker someday. When Emma didn’t immediately accept his handshake, he ducked his head and looked up at her shyly, his longish mousy hair falling over his eyes. Wide-eyed, but not knowing what else to do, Emma shook his hand (because it's a hand now, not a paw holy crap) and he grinned exuberantly.
“Name’s Liam, miss. Nice to meet you.” His voice had that adorable adolescent crackle to it, not to mention a slight accent.
Disarmed by this not-so-fearsome beast, Emma smiled back. “Nice to meet you, too. Wait, I thought the big guy was Liam?”
“He is.” Another voice broke in, lower and smoother than the first. Emma turned her head, finally getting a good look at the young man in the middle. Her breath caught in her throat. Messy, ‘I woke up like this’ hair. Heavy, dark eyebrows cocked in an ‘I know you’re checking me out and rightfully so’ kind of way. Sculpted cheekbones. A hint of reddish scruff along his sharp jawline. Tall and lean with jeans that fit just so. He couldn’t have been a more picture perfect stereotypical bad boy if he tried - and everything about him screamed ‘I expect you to believe I’m not trying’ - but damned if it wasn’t working for him. His pose bespoke a casual arrogance, the hand hitched on his belt buckle, the curl of his lips as he spoke- wait. What? Too caught up in her ogling, Emma almost didn’t realize he’d continued speaking.
“... father was an unoriginal arsehole, but that’s another story. We call the runt here, Lee, and I must say I’m glad to see him showing such good manners to a lady.” He rustled Lee’s hair, laughing as the boy smacked his hand away. “Speaking of manners, I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced. Killian Jones, at your service.”
Killian offered Emma his hand as Lee had done, but when Emma took it, he turned her wrist gently. He raised their joined hands, dipping his head, but before he could bestow the kiss to her knuckles that was so obviously coming, the third man who must’ve been Liam hip-checked Killian out of the way.
“You’ll have to forgive my brother, Emma. He fancies himself a ladies man.”
Emma chuckled, caught somewhere between nervousness and admittedly a little bit of disappointment. Liam smiled warmly at her, ignoring Killian’s huff of annoyance from beside him. He was the tallest and broadest of the three, obviously the eldest. His posture and bearing suggested maybe he’d been in the military or a cop or something, but at the moment way too many other questions were swirling through Emma’s mind for her think much about it.
“As you may have gathered, I’m Liam and I’d be happy to show you the ropes around here.” He squeezed Emma’s shoulder reassuringly, then exchanged a glance with Regina that shed a little bit of light on their earlier interaction in his panther form. Emma filed it away as something to ask about later.
“Thank you.” Regina nodded at him with a barely concealed smile, and as he stepped back into line with his brothers, she turned to Emma.
“So you see, Miss Swan, taming the beasts should be simple enough. Taming the Jones Brothers, however…” She glared at Killian again who replied with a sarcastic smirk. “Well. Good luck with that.” Business completed, Regina turned and walked out of the tent without a backward glance.
“Wait! You can’t- I don’t-” Emma spluttered as the reality sank in that she was now alone with three panther-people and she was expected to learn a circus act. She didn’t trust Regina by a long shot, but shit - at least she was some kind of buffer between Emma and the unbelievable situation she’d stumbled into. Literally unbelievable. As in she couldn’t make herself believe it even though the proof was (respectively) standing awkwardly, smirking and furrowing its brow right in front of her.
Emma’s heart pounded. She raised one finger and opened her mouth. No words came out. Now all three Jones brothers looked concerned. She pressed her lips together and shook her head. She tried again.
“I need a minute. I’ll- I’ll be right back.”
Emma ran.
Huddled behind the snack bar seemed as good a place as any to process the last few hours. This morning she’d been running from the cops, hiding in plain sight amongst the bustling crowd at what she had thought was a regular circus midway. The sensory overload of voices and music and buttered popcorn and bright colors worked wonders to numb her broken heart. When she saw the “Help Wanted” sign on one of the trailers, she’d knocked on that door without hesitation.
Now she’s what? What the hell even was this place? Magic was real. Freaking were-panthers were real. What about vampires? Zombies? Witches? Regina was probably a witch. Was Emma a witch? Holy crap, would she turn into some kind of animal, too? Emma’s pulse pounded in her ears. She pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her forehead against them, her breaths coming faster and faster until she was well and truly hyperventilating.
Footsteps sounded off to her right. Emma sat up and tried to get her breathing back under control. Moments later, Killian Jones’ head peeked around the corner.
“Ah! There you are, Swan. I’ve been looking everywhere.”
He sounded far too chipper for her liking. Emma cut her eyes to him then quickly looked away. “I’m fine.”
He rounded the corner and walked over to where she at. “Never said you weren’t. Sitting in the fetal position in the dirt behind a concession stand is exactly what people do when they’re fine.”
Emma finally looked up at him and shoved her long, blond hair behind her ears. “Ha. Ha. What do you want, Jones?”
“It’s not what I want, love. It’s what you want.” He sat down in the dirt beside her, using the building as a back rest. “Bit of an orientation perhaps? I expect you have a few questions.”
Yeah, just a few million. “Not your love. But…” Emma sighed. “I am kinda having trouble wrapping my head around all this. Is, like, everything in every story and horror movie I’ve ever watched real? Am I a- a-”
“Circus freak?” His voice held more understanding than teasing, and it gave her prickles under her skin. Emma didn’t want some cute guy acting all understanding. She knew how that played out.
She huffed and turned away from his searching blue eyes. “You know what I mean.”
“Look, Regina must think you’re something or she wouldn’t have brought you on, but you can’t think about it like that. It’s too much at once. You’ll go bonkers. Start with one simple thought. Magic is real.”
“That’s a simple thought, huh?”
“Trust me, Swan, if you can convince yourself to accept that, the rest gets easier.”
Trust. Ha. Trust was out of the question, but as Emma considered his words, he did make a certain kind of sense. Baby steps or whatever. And maybe she didn’t need understanding but she could probably use an ally. “I don’t trust anything about this place, but fine. I’ll try it your way.” Emma took a deep breath and looked Killian straight in the eye. “Magic is real.”
He nodded encouragingly and she tried again. “Magic is real.” After repeating the phrase aloud a few times, she closed her eyes and let the words play in her brain over and over again until they sounded slightly less crazy. She opened her eyes to find Killian watching her, a tiny smile tilting up one corner of his lips. When their eyes met, his smile widened making the dimples in his cheeks deeper.
“You move your lips when you’re thinking.”
“I do not!” Emma shoved his shoulder. It only served to make him laugh, but his expression sobered quickly at her frown. “It’s just- it’s a lot to take in, you know?”
“Aye, that it is. I grew up knowing what I was and even so, the first time I changed…” Killian let his gaze drift at the memory, then shook his head. “Well, I was very lucky to have Liam around.”
“And your father?” As soon as the question came out of her mouth she wished she could take it back. Why was she asking personal questions of this guy? God only knew she wouldn’t want him asking her anything about her family. Or lack thereof. Emma’s cheeks warmed as she awkwardly muttered,“You said something about your father before.”
A muscle ticked in Killian’s jaw before he answered. “My father left us a few years before that. It’s been just Liam and me for quite some time now.”
“What about Lee?” Geez, what is wrong with her? She’s prying now. This definitely counted as prying.
Still, at the mention of the youngest Jones, Killian’s expression lightened. He ran a hand through his already tousled hair. “Lee came along a bit later. He’s our half-brother. We actually didn’t know about him until the circus stopped at this little seaport town and a great sodding panther cub comes running into the tent hissing and swiping at everybody. Poor little bugger was scared out of his wits. It was his first change, you see. Liam and I shifted straight away and we got him calmed down. Next thing we knew, there was a third member of the Magnificent Brothers Jones.”
Okay, so she was really on a roll with the 20-Questions thing, but this - hearing Killian’s story - was helping. Her curiosity overcame her anxiety. “How‘d you know he was your brother?”
That earned her a raised eyebrow and a wry smile. “Besides the fact that he shapeshifts into a melanistic jaguar?”
Melanistic? Who the hell talks like that? He even said it with that British pronunciation so the word came out like jag-you-are. Emma snorted. “Yeah, besides that.”
“When he reverted to his human form, he managed to tell us he was looking for his father. He showed us a picture of the man and it turned out to be our father. Apparently the bastard had left Lee behind, too.”
“How the hell was he carrying a picture if he was in panther form? Wait, where do your clothes go when you’re a panther?”
Killian laughed outright. “I shapeshift into an animal, but you’re asking about my clothing? Not even what’s a Brit like me doing turning into a South American jungle cat? You’re an interesting lass, Emma Swan.” His features shifted into a lazy smirk and there went those prickles under Emma’s skin again. “You know, if you’d prefer I reappear naked, I can certainly-”
Emma smacked him in the chest, but a grin tugged at the corners of her mouth.
“Tsk. Such violence!’ he teased and Emma’s smile grew brighter despite herself. Killian’s expression softened, his eyes doing a sort of twinkly thing. “Never thought I’d see one of those.”
“What?”
He scratched behind his ear, the tips of which had turned ever so slightly pink. “A smile.”
Emma rolled her eyes at the cheesy comment, but her grin lingered until another question occurred to her that made it fade. “Am I going to change? Like you do?” She hated how brittle her voice sounded. “Regina said something about people with latent talents.”
Killian furrowed his brow. “How old are you, Swan?”
“How old are you?” she snapped back with a scowl.
“Nineteen. But my point is, most shifters have their first change around age ten or eleven.”
“Oh.” Emma nodded in understanding. “I’m seventeen. Just turned.”
“So there you are. If you haven’t changed yet, you likely aren’t a shifter. Which begs the question, just what are you, Swan?”
Emma raised her eyebrow, attempting to mimic the smirk she was coming to associate with Killian. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” She nudged his shoulder teasingly with her own, but the movement brought their faces within inches of each other.
“Perhaps I would.” His eyes held something a little too earnest. His body a little too warm beside hers. Their knees brushed. His breath caressed her cheek. Too close, too close, too close. No, she didn’t need him making eyes at her. She didn’t need the stupid fluttery feeling in her stomach. She just needed an ally. Someone to help her navigate this strange new place. That’s all.
Emma straightened and cleared her throat. “Yeah? So would I…” She stood, half-heartedly dusting the grass off her butt, her legs a little shaky from sitting down too long (and maybe from this whole moment she was having with Killian). She held out her hand to him and he took it, pulling himself to his feet. “Hang on, why does a Brit like you turn into a jungle cat?”
He gave her a grin that was likely intended to be mysterious, but came off a little goofy. “Magic, Swan,” he replied as if that answered everything, and at least for the moment, she supposed it did.
--/--
After what felt like hours of walking through the routine with Liam and the younger Joneses, Emma had a good handle on all the blocking at least. Liam had been kind and patient with her even when she got frustrated and huffy and, you know, let her mouth get away with her a little. Looking over at Lee and Killian, Emma decided Liam must have had a lot of practice dealing with stuff like that. Probably a big brother thing. Not that she knew anything about brothers.
The guys had all stayed in human form throughout rehearsal - likely to keep Emma from having another panic attack. She appreciated that. Maybe this place wouldn’t be so bad. It was weird, sure. A definite shock to her system, but still… maybe it could be kind of okay here. For a while at least.
At the end of rehearsal, Emma asked Liam to point her to Mrs. Lucas’ trailer for wardrobe like Regina had told her, but after an embarrassingly loud growl from her stomach, he directed her to the cook house instead. Since there was no show that night, the grounds crew left the bright outdoor flood lights off, but the strings of small globe lights which criss-crossed the lot produced enough light for Emma to find her way.
It should have been scary. Her first night in a strange place with some very strange individuals, but there was a vibe to this place. She couldn’t put it into words. It made her feel… not at home, exactly, but like this was where she needed to be.
If Regina had been telling the truth about the circus (and Emma had just spent the last several hours with were-panthers, so yeah), then that meant the whole ‘beacon’ thing must be true, too. But that shouldn’t apply to Emma, right? Just because Regina believed she had magic or hidden abilities or whatever, that didn’t make it real.
Emma wasn’t special. Just some orphan no one gave a damn about - not her parents, not even the one guy who was supposed to love her. He’d made that pretty clear. Dammit, she didn’t want to think about Neal. Not now. Her brain was already scraped raw by everything she’d seen today.
Halfway to the cook house, a soft sound behind her caught her attention. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. Without moving her head, Emma glanced around her. She couldn’t see anyone, but the shadows on the ground looked wrong somehow and she knew.
She was being followed.
Emma’s blood ran cold. Cursing herself for being too far inside her own head, she slowed her steps, trying not to give away the fact that she knew someone was behind her. Heart pounding, she crouched down pretending to fix the laces on her thrift store Doc Martens and subtly pulled her small pocket knife out of her sock as she stood back up. Thumbing the blade open, she spun on her heel only to come face-to-face, er, muzzle with a blue-eyed panther.
As soon as the animal caught sight of her knife, its eyes widened in alarm and glowed crimson as the creature shifted into Killian Jones.
“Easy there, Swan. I come in peace!” He held up his hands in surrender. “I didn’t mean to frighten you, love.”
Emma narrowed her eyes, not lowering the knife quite yet. “Then why the hell were you sneaking up on me?”
Killian lowered his arms and frowned. “Not sneaking, just trying to catch up. I can’t help it if I’m naturally stealthy as a panther.”
Emma huffed and put her knife away. “Fine. Why were you trying to catch up with me, Catboy?”
The epithet earned her a raised eyebrow, but he seemed to be trying not to smile. “Catboy? Really, love?”
Emma shrugged. “I’ll stop calling you ‘Catboy’ if you stop calling me ‘love’.”
This time it was Killian’s turn to roll his eyes. “Very well. At any rate, I was following you because I thought you might appreciate a familiar face at dinner. I know it can be difficult to be the new kid.”
As much as Emma’s hackles were still up, she could tell Killian was being sincere. Something about his open expression and the way he scratched behind his ear. And yeah, she supposed it might be nice to have someone to sit with.
“Oh. Okay.” Her posture relaxed and she let one corner of her mouth tilt up just a little bit. Killian brightened immediately. Maybe a little too much. She jabbed a finger at his chest. “But cool it with all that stealthy panther crap or I’m gonna put a collar with a bell on you.”
“Kinky.”
Shit. Now he was waggling those stupid eyebrows and beaming at her, and why did that make her feel all squirmy inside? Just annoyance probably.
“Shut up.” Emma groaned and shoved his shoulder, and why exactly did she feel the need to touch him every time he was being irritating?
Killian just laughed. “Come along, Swan, before the Dwarves eat all the pie.”
--/--
Dinner with the cast and crew of Le Cirque Noir was, to say the least, an experience. Killian hadn’t been kidding about the dwarves. There were seven of them and they had, in fact, claimed all the pie from the dessert table before Emma and Killian arrived, but he somehow managed to snag her a chocolate chip cookie. With Killian close by her side, she also met an honest-to-god mermaid, a giant, two people who could talk to animals and one very friendly werewolf who would apparently be her bunkmate.
“I’m Ruby!”
Emma had barely sat down with her food before a beautiful brunette approached her, all white teeth and red lipstick.
“Um, hi?” Emma mumbled around the bite of food she’d shoved in her mouth.
“It’s Emma, right? So nice to meet you. I’m a werewolf, but don’t worry. I don’t bite. Well, I do bite, but I won’t bite you. Promise. Regina told me you’d be staying in the trailer with me and Mulan and hey where’d Mulan go?” Ruby finally paused for breath, looking around the tent full of long tables that served as a makeshift dining hall.
Killian spoke up. “I saw her talking to David over by the drinks, but honestly, Red. Give Emma a chance to get some food in her stomach before you chew her ear off. If you want to chew something, I think there’s a squeaky toy around here somewhere.”
Ruby gave Killian an unimpressed glare, her eyes flashing red for a moment. “Why don’t you go find a ball of yarn to entertain yourself and let us have some girl talk?”
“I think I hear a squirrel outside. How about you go chase it?”
Ruby scoffed. “You’re just cranky because you haven’t had your supper. You want a little saucer of milk? Can of tuna?”
“Bitch.”
“Pussy.”
“Are you two seriously gonna fight like cats and dogs?” Emma had been growing more and more concerned by the second, but to her surprise Ruby and Killian both burst out laughing.
Killian patted her on the back. “Nice one, Swan. And no worries, just a little shifter humor between old friends.”
Emma looked between the two of them, utterly bewildered. “Whatever you say, Catboy.”
Ruby grinned at her, wagging a finger. “You’re gonna fit right in here, Emma. Mulan needs to meet you. I’ll go get her.”
Ruby stood from the table and as soon as her back was turned to them, Killian called out, “You mean you’re going to go fetch her?”
Ruby cast a narrow-eyed glare over her shoulder. “Can it, Catboy.”
Killian turned his attention to Emma, who was trying hard not to choke on her dinner while laughing under her breath. “Oh now, love,” he scolded playfully, “just look what you’ve started.”
--/--
Emma’s first few days at the circus flew by in flurry of sawdust and sequins. Under Liam’s tutelage, she learned her act quickly. Really, most of what she had to do was wave her arms around dramatically while the Jones boys did all their tricks. Occasionally she’d crack a whip in their general direction. It wasn’t exactly brain surgery, but, if Emma was being honest with herself, it was fun. The music, the lights, the getting to boss certain were-panthers around. Speaking of certain were-panthers…
Emma had acquired a shadow. Starting with that very first rehearsal where he’d sought her out behind the concession stand, Killian fell into a habit of just sort of following Emma around. Sometimes as a human, sometimes as a beast.
At least as a panther, he was quiet. In human form he was always trying to tease and banter with her (she wouldn’t let herself think the word flirting). Him, with his smirking lips and expressive eyes and that thing he did where his tongue traced the corner of his mouth. It made her feel… things. Things her freshly broken heart wasn’t ready for.
When she told him she preferred him as a cat, he shifted into animal form and butted his furry black head against her side until she scratched him behind the ears. He was surprisingly soft, actually, the silky strands of his coat slipping beneath her fingertips. Not to mention, it was pretty funny to watch the way his powerful jaws hung open, his eyes nearly rolling back into his head at her touch.
“Yeah, yeah. You better enjoy this, Jones. There’s no way in hell I'm giving you a belly rub.”
The bastard had the audacity to purr.
He’d picked up a couple of other habits as well. Like how at their second rehearsal he accidentally discovered Emma was ticklish and thereafter took every opportunity to flick the tip of his tail under her arm to make her jump. Or, well, he did it until Liam got annoyed and growled at him.
Or how now that she was comfortable with the act, he’d sometimes not do whatever trick he was supposed to do just to mess with her. Then he’d stare at her all innocent as if he were some dumb animal. As if. Of all the words she’d use to describe Killian Jones (funny, snarky, hot as all hell, her brain unhelpfully supplied), innocent was not one of them.
On Saturday, the day before her very first performance, Emma walked to the wardrobe trailer to pick up her finished costume for dress rehearsal. Killian, as usual, trotted along beside her in panther form. She decided finally, if he wouldn’t leave her alone, she might as well talk to him. Surely she could handle a little teasing from one pesky panther. She just needed to shore up her defenses a bit. God only knew she was good at that.
“Hey, stalker. Why exactly are you following me again?” He swished his tail at the back of her knee, and Emma yelped as goosebumps spread up her leg. She fixed him with her best scowl. “Is this why your last beast tamer quit?”
Killian shifted back to human again and continued walking beside her. “I’ll have you know our last beast tamer was Regina, and she quit because it got awkward when she and Liam started shagging. You ask me, he liked it a bit too much when she cracked the whip at him. They’d always run straight back to her trailer after a show.” He scrunched his nose in distaste, and Emma bit back a laugh. “The hilarious part is they both think they’re doing a stellar job of keeping it under wraps, but everyone knows.”
Emma gave him a wry smile.“So what I’m hearing is if I want to keep my job, I should never ever shag anyone in my act.”
That stopped him in his tracks. Killian’s mouth fell open like a codfish, and he had to jog a few steps to catch back up to her. “Hold on now, Swan. I never said that.”
Emma pressed her lips together trying to maintain a poker face. See? She could do the banter thing, too. “Mmhmm.”
Killian huffed. “Anyway, Regina’s working up a new act now. A sorceress duel between herself and a Norwegian lass we picked up a few weeks ago. Sort of a fire and ice thing.”
Emma stopped in front of the door to the wardrobe trailer, her eyes wide. “So, Regina is a witch! I knew it!”
Killian stood facing her and tilted his head. “I don’t think that’s her preferred terminology, but aye. Quite powerful. Her signature move is throwing fireballs.”
“Of course it is,” Emma deadpanned. “Hey, don’t you need to go get ready for dress rehearsal?”
Killian smirked in amusement and leaned closer to whisper in her ear. “In case you hadn’t noticed, Swan, I am my own costume.”
Emma felt a blush rise on her face, flustered by her own faux pas, and certainly not because Killian was so near to her that his cheek brushed hers as he straightened his posture. She was a dumbass. Of course he was his own costume, but now the side of her face was probably all red and blotchy from the scratch of his stubble and she needed to get inside the trailer right now and put on her costume and fix her makeup and-
“See you later, Swan.”
While she’d been gawping like an idiot, Killian had turned to leave. Ugh, he just had to get the last word in, didn't he? Emma stood there scrabbling to come up with something snappy to say as she watched him walk away. Swaggering smirky-face with his stupid tight jeans. Sooner or later she’d figure out a way to shut him up.
--/-
“Hey! How’d the final rehearsal go? Did Killian ever pick his jaw back up off the floor?”
Exhausted after a long day, Emma staggered into her trailer wanting nothing more in life than to flop face first onto her bunk and pass out. Her roommates, apparently, had other ideas.
“Ruby…” Emma warned, but it lacked any real threat. Proper threatening required too much energy.
“Oh, don’t ‘Ruby’ me. You didn’t see him when you first walked in the tent in that costume. Granny really outdid herself. I could practically see the hearts shooting out of his eyeballs.”
Emma slumped onto her bed and tugged the elastic out of her ponytail. “That’s not exactly how I remember it.”
No, Emma remembered hiding behind the tent flap feeling self-conscious as all hell because her body had been poured into a getup that covered slightly less than a one-piece bathing suit. A really fancy bathing suit. Pitch black satin edged in feather-like swirls of beaded lace framed a blaze of creamy white down the middle of the front. Ruby’s Granny, the official seamstress and head cook for the circus, had truly outdone herself as Ruby said. As little as there was of it, Emma had never worn anything so beautiful.
She heard Killian call out, “Come on, Swan. Let’s get a look,” and begrudgingly complied, but kept her eyes down on the costume, tugging at where the corset-like bodice pinched her waist. She’d complained that the outfit felt like a sequined straight-jacket. He’d informed her cheekily that her discomfort was a cross he was willing to bear. She glared. He grinned. It was nothing more than their usual back-and-forth shtick.
“There were no heart eyes,” Emma concluded.
“Mmhm. You know wolves can smell pheromones, right?”
“You did not just say that.” Blood rushed in Emma’s ears and her cheeks burned and she wasn’t even sure if Ruby was talking about Killian’s pheromones or Emma’s and that somehow made it worse. Thankfully, Mulan came to her rescue.
“Must you alway be so crass?” Mulan scolded, but to little avail. Ruby grinned brightly and scrunched her nose at Mulan who took a seat beside her wayward roommate on the bunk opposite Emma’s with a long-suffering sigh. “Don’t mind her, Emma. But seriously, how did rehearsal go? Are you excited about your first show?”
“Yeah, I guess. Sure.” Excited was… one word for it. The reminder of tomorrow’s performance hit Emma like a bucket of ice water. When not two minutes ago, she’d been ready to sleep for days, now a buzz of nerves spread from the pit of her stomach to the tips of her fingers. A familiar tingle built up in her palms and she rubbed them against her thighs to make the feeling go away. Some people carried their stress in their shoulders or back, but for Emma it had always been her hands.
Sensing her unease, Mulan leaned across the narrow space between the bunks and placed a hand on Emma’s forearm. “Sure you’re okay?”
Emma looked between Ruby and Mulan’s concerned faces. This was new. This thing where people seemed to care how she was feeling. Who actually asked how she was doing. But from day one at the Circus, everyone had accepted her. No questions asked. Like, “Oh, you’re here. Good. We’ve been saving you a seat.”
It felt foreign and strange and Emma refused become accustomed to it. But it was kind of nice? Maybe it would be okay to have friends. Just for now.
Emma pressed her lips together and focused on her hands. “I’m not really used to being the center of attention, I guess. All those people in the audience staring at me kinda freaks me out. And what if-” Emma stopped herself, afraid to voice the fear that niggled at the back of her mind. After a beat, she looked up and saw nothing but genuine compassion in her roommates faces. “What if I screw the whole thing up? Would Regina kick me out for ruining her show?”
“Of course not!”
“Oh, honey, no.”
They both quickly reassured her. Ruby stood and pulled Emma to her feet. There wasn’t much space in the sleeping area of the trailer, so Ruby tugged on Emma’s hand to move her into the kitchenette. Mulan followed them.
“Here’s the secret: whatever screw ups happen -” Ruby shook her long dark hair back from her shoulders and gestured as broadly as the limited space allowed. “- you pretend like you did it on purpose and it’s part of the act. Watch this.”
Ruby grabbed a pair of oranges from a bowl on the counter and began to juggle them. Grinning, Mulan picked up a third orange and tossed it at Ruby. For about two seconds, it looked like Ruby would catch it and keep going, but she fumbled, tossing one orange into the air too soon so that all three were airborne at the same time. In the blink of an eye, Ruby threw out a now magically clawed hand and took a fierce swipe. Three sliced oranges fell to the table with a wet splatter.
“Ta-da!” Ruby beamed, gracefully flexing her now human-again fingers.
Mulan laughed lightly and reached for an orange slice, but Ruby’s party trick hadn’t convinced Emma. “That’s pretty cool and all, but what about those of us who can’t mutate into a fruit ninja?”
Ruby sat down at the tiny kitchen table and patted the seat next to her for Emma to join her. “No, no, no. The point is that if you’re gonna screw up, go big and really sell it.”
Mulan pushed herself up to sit on the counter, her feet dangling next to Ruby’s shoulder. “She’s right. The audience doesn’t know what you’re supposed to be doing, so as long as you look like you did it on purpose, they’ll never know the difference.”
Emma exhaled slowly. “I think I can work with that.”
“Besides,” Mulan added, “if you really screw up that badly, Regina can just put a memory spell on the whole crowd and they’ll think they watched the greatest show on earth.”
“Has that ever happened?”
Mulan kept her face completely impassive. “Not that I recall. But then I guess I wouldn’t, would I?”
Emma’s eyes widened in alarm.
“She’s joking.” Ruby reached back to flick Mulan on the knee. “You’re so deadpan. No one ever knows you’re joking.”
A small smile broke through on Mulan’s face and Emma finally relaxed enough to smile back. Mulan hopped down from the counter. “How about I make you some tea to help you sleep?”
Emma cocked an eyebrow at her. “This isn’t some kind of potion, is it?”
Mulan shook her head. “Nah. Just Sleepytime Tea. From a box with a bear wearing a nightcap on it.” She opened a drawer and scanned the contents. “But now that I’ve offered it, looks like I left the box in the main kitchen. I’ll run over to the cook house and get it. Ruby, you want anything else from over there?”
“Not unless you find the old lady’s liquor stash.”
Mulan rolled her eyes, but smiled at her friend. “Be right back, guys.”
Ruby’s eyes followed Mulan out the trailer door, and as it snicked shut a tiny sound like a hum escaped her lips. When Ruby finally turned around, Emma fixed her with a smirk. “What was that you were saying about pheromones again?”
For the first time in the week Emma had known her, Ruby Lucas actually blushed. “Oh, that’s nothing. Just a little crush.” She flicked her hand in front of her as if to wave the idea away.
“And here you were giving me grief about Killian Jones! So, what’s the deal with you two?”
Ruby sighed. “There’s no deal. Mulan’s still hung up on someone she was in love with before.” Her exaggerated pronunciation of that final word made it sound heavier somehow.
“What do you mean before?”
“Before she joined Le Cirque Noir. Everybody here, we’ve all got a before. Some tragic origin story. It’s why no one here judges. We’re all misfits and losers, but at least we’ve got each other. Just one big wacky family.”
Ruby offered her a grin that seemed to say, “...and it can be your family now, too.”
The words hung in the air between them. Emma’s hands tingled again and the feeling seemed to spread to her chest. This was dangerous ground. Families and homes - even as non-traditional as this one - those things were for other people. Not her. And yet no matter how hard she tried to pluck it out, the tingle in her chest became a tiny seedling of hope.
She couldn’t deal with that - didn’t want to anyway - so she shoved the feeling behind all of her usual defense mechanisms and redirected the conversation. “So what happened in Mulan’s before?”
“I don’t know all of it. You might’ve noticed, Mulan isn’t really one to talk about herself - kinda like someone else I know.” Ruby pointed raised an eyebrow at Emma. “Anyway, what I do know is that it involved her getting her heart broken and the woman she loved moving on without her. She isn’t ready to let go yet.”
Shit, that hit close to home. Redirect, redirect, redirect. “Is it hard to be friends with her when you…” Emma gestured vaguely “You know?”
Ruby shook her head, a self-deprecating smile curving her red lips. “Nah. Like I said, it’s just a little crush. I’m convinced that the girl of my dreams is still out there somewhere over the rainbow.”
--/--
Emma placed the last of about two dozen bobby pins holding the intricate crown braid together. Ruby had helped her plait her hair before heading off to the Big Top to make sure her Red Riding Hood costume was ready backstage. In Le Cirque Noir’s version of the story, Little Red and the Big Bad Wolf were one and the same. More of that shifter humor, apparently.
One more shot of hairspray, a tug at a loose bead on her bodice, one more coat of lipstick - Emma couldn’t seem to stop fidgeting. Everything will be fine, she told herself for the thousandth time. Ruby and Mulan had been very reassuring before they left to warm up for their own acts, but still… Emma squeezed through the louvered doors of the tiny bathroom, and paced up and down the length of the trailer, hands waving through the air as she reviewed her routine in her head. A knock on her trailer door snapped her out of her downward spiral.
She opened the door and her mouth went dry, one foot sort of hovering half-way through a step it forgot to finish. She tried to say “hi”. Couldn’t think of the word “hi”. Could really only think two words on repeat: holy shit holy shit holy shit. Killian Jones stood on her front steps dressed in a long, black leather coat, blood red brocade vest and barely-buttoned black shirt. Half steampunk, half swashbuckler and completely devastating. He held a single long-stemmed rose in his hand and offered it to her with a courtly bow.
“You look stunning, Swan.”
Emma blinked a couple of times, finally managing to shake off her stupor. “You...look…”
“I know,” he replied with a cheeky grin.
“What happened to the whole, ‘I’m my own costume’ thing?” Emma stepped aside to allow him into the trailer. Emma accepted the rose and turned away from him to get a glass from the kitchen cabinet to use as a makeshift vase. Not at all because she needed a moment to collect herself.
“This-” Killian made a sweeping head to toe gesture once Emma faced him again “-is my costume for the grand entry parade. I’m a showman after all. Might as well dress the part.”
You could’ve warned me. “Well, it looks like you went all out.”
“As did you. The audience won’t be able to take their eyes off you, love.”
Emma looked off to the side, her earlier anxiety curling its tentacles around her lungs and squeezing. “That’s kind of what I’m afraid of, but um…” She met his eyes again. “Thanks.”
“My pleasure.” Killian pushed himself off the wall he’d been leaning against, leading with his hips. He offered her his arm. “May I escort our newest star to her debut performance?”
It was such a cheesy thing to do, but his exaggerated chivalry helped to shake loose the grip of her nervousness. “If I say no, are you gonna follow me anyway?”
Killian’s eyes did that twinkly thing again and crinkled a little at the corners and it was all just completely unfair. “Aye. Probably.”
Emma laughed, finally feeling ready to face a Big Top full of spectators. She tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Then lead on, Catboy.”
“As the lady wishes.”
--/--
Much to her surprise, Emma’s first performance went off without a hitch. All three Jones brothers hit their marks with practiced ease. Killian behaved himself, no headbutting or tail swishing at her. She didn’t drop her whip even once. And the crowd…
Emma had never experienced anything like it. People - hundreds of people - cheering for her. She’d heard about the allure of the spotlight and the roar of the crowd, but now that she’d actually lived it, the feeling was beyond anything she could have imagined holed up alone in her room at a group home. By the time the music went into its final chorus, Emma wished they could do an encore.
And so it went week after week. Emma settled in to the rhythm of the Circus: travel, rehearse, perform, repeat. Some nights the younger cast members stayed up late around a bonfire laughing and passing around a bottle of cheap wine. Other nights it was just Emma and her roommates trying to get a good enough wifi signal to stream Netflix. Everybody pitched in when there was work to be done. Everybody came together for dinner.
They bickered, as family does, with the occasional outright fight. Some combination of two or more of the seven dwarf brothers ended up pummelling one another at least once a week. Emma generally avoided the worst of the drama, but one night she’d seriously considered skinning Killian’s furry self alive and hanging his pelt on her wall.
It had started small - a few of his earlier panther shenanigans creeping into the actual show instead of keeping the nonsense to rehearsal. He’d refuse to do a trick here and there unless she tossed him a treat or petted his ears. It irritated her but she could handle it. So, of course he had to escalate.
For one entire performance, Killian did nothing but rub his head against her and roll around on the ground on his back at her feet until Regina stepped up to the microphone to play it off as part of the show. She asked the audience what they should do with this ferocious beast and they unanimously demanded that Emma rub his belly. Emma threatened him under her breath to use the whip for real, but he only looked up at her with those big, blue cat eyes and licked his chops. The audience went nuts over it. Emma seethed behind her brightly painted smile.
That is, until he showed up at her trailer the next morning with an apology and a box of bear claws.
“How did you know these were my favorite?”
Killian tilted his head, eyes wide with false innocence. The affectation reminded Emma so much of his panther-self, she nearly laughed. “A little birdy told me? Actually,” he continued, making himself at home at her kitchen table, “a little bird told Mary Margaret, who then told me.”
Emma sat down next to him and snatched a pastry from the box. “The bird-talker. Right. That’s… not creepy at all.”
“Creepy bird factor aside, am I forgiven, Swan?”
Emma bit into a bear claw, practically moaning at the sugary goodness. “You’re forgiven, Catboy,” she answered around a mouth full of food. “Just don’t do it again.”
--/--
Emma actually liked life at the Circus. She’d lived in tolerable places before. She would even go so far as to say she’d been happy once. With Neal, during their “Bonnie and Clyde” run before everything went to hell. Even then, though, the life itself wore on her. She knew they couldn’t keep going that way, sleeping in a car, showering at truck stops, eating burritos stolen from a convenience store. She just thought when they decided to quit running, they’d settle down together.
Life at Le Cirque felt stable. Surprisingly normal considering the extremely not-normal circumstances. Only a month ago, the idea she could be some kind of freak terrified her, but now… now that she had gotten comfortable, a new fear started to creep in. What if she wasn’t?
Weeks turned into months, and no ‘latent abilities’ surfaced for Emma. Not a single sign of any powers whatsoever. It bothered her. Worried her. What would happen if she never got powers? If she turned out to be nothing more than a regular human?
“Emma!” Liam’s voice broke through her dark train of thought. “You missed the cue again.” He crossed the sawdust strewn ring to where she stood, her arms wrapped tightly around her middle. Liam ducked down into her line of sight, encouraging Emma to meet his eyes. “Is everything alright, love? You look a bit peaky.”
Emma forced herself to drop her arms, and shook out her hands. She hadn’t realized how tightly she’d been clenching them. “I’m fine. Sorry. I just got distracted.”
Liam studied her for a moment, a worried frown marring his features. “Perhaps we’ve all had enough rehearsing for one morning. You run along, love. Besides, I believe Regina said she’d like a chat with you.”
Icy dread wrapped its fingers around Emma’s heart. This was it. She was about to get fired. Emma walked out of the tent on auto-pilot, not looking back when Killian called after her.
--/--
Killian found her eventually. He always managed to find her, but then again, this time she hadn’t exactly made it difficult.
“I’m not sure about your choice of thinking places, Swan. Is there something about the smell of grease and burnt sugar that calms you?”
Several hours had passed since Liam had dismissed rehearsal, and Emma sat in the grass behind the snack bar, arms wrapped around her knees. “Did you seriously come back here to critique my hiding place?”
Killian sat down next to her, nudging her shoulder with his until she raised her head. “No. I came back here because I was worried about you. What did Regina want?”
“Magic lessons. She wants to give me magic lessons, or tried to, actually. We looked through books and incantations and magical objects and - did you know she speaks Elvish? Elvish! And nothing worked. I’m never gonna be able to do this. I don’t know why she even thinks I have magic.”
Killian pursed his lips, considering his answer. “Regina has been doing this for quite some time. Her instincts are usually correct.”
“I think her instinct by the end was to toss me off a cliff and see if I could poof myself a bridge.” Emma huffed. “She’d have been fine with either possible result.”
“Do you believe you have it?”
His gentle tone soothed some of the bitterness in her thoughts. Emma sighed heavily, dropping her head back onto her arms. “I don’t know. How could I possibly know that?”
“It tends to run in families?”
No point in hemming and hawing. Killian was a smart guy. The squeak in his voice when he asked the question told her he already knew the answer. “I don’t know anything about my family. Next.”
“Bitten by a radioactive spider?”
She actually heard him smirking that time. Emma turned her head enough to glare at him, but a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Nope. No spidey-sense. Next.”
“How about this: has anything unexplainable or overly coincidental happened to you when you were in a heightened emotional state?”
Emma raised her head fully, and narrowed her eyes at him. “Regina asked me that.”
“And?”
“There was this one time. It’s actually kind of why I’m here. I got into a bad situation and I almost got arrested. I was supposed to meet someone in a parking garage, but they didn’t show. They called the cops and tipped them off, so I’d get busted instead of them. So there I am in this garage with a stolen watch on my wrist and the cop has his gun pointed at me. But then the light above my head exploded and there were all these sparks. The cop looked away from me and lowered his gun to duck and I just ran.”
“How were you feeling when that happened?”
“How the hell do you think I was feeling? I was scared out of my mind!” And hurt and betrayed and...
“I don’t know much about how magic works, Swan, but I do know it’s rooted in emotions. It could’ve simply been a coincidence. Or, it could be that your fear in that moment caused the light to blow, thus giving you the chance to escape.”
“Great. So I need to be held at gunpoint to get my magic to work?” Emma rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Maybe Regina really is going to push me off a cliff.”
“It needn’t be anything that dramatic.”
“So what are you going to do? Sneak up on me and yell ‘Boo’?”
“Tried that once and very nearly got myself stabbed for my trouble, so no thank you. However, it’s not a bad plan to try to provoke an emotional response.” He eyed her for a moment, his tongue tracing the edge of his teeth. “I can be quite provocative, you know.”
Emma rolled her eyes, but noticed her pulse had picked up a little bit. Was he sitting closer than before? “Oh, you provoke me alright.”
“Magic needn’t come from fear or anger. Perhaps I could stir up some other, more pleasurable feelings for you.” Killian reached a finger back to scratch behind his ear and smoothly traced it down his cheek to tap against his lips.
Was he actually suggesting-? “Please,” Emma scoffed, “You couldn’t handle it.” He was definitely closer now and definitely looking at her lips and maybe she didn’t mind that as much as she should.
“Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it.”
Oh, but no. This was her chance. To finally wipe that smug smirk off his face. To finally render Killian Jones speechless. Her pulse raced, her stomach fluttered, her eyes zeroed in on his tempting, teasing mouth and she pounced. Grabbing him by the front of the shirt, Emma hauled him to her, kissing the living hell out of him.
It took him the space of a heartbeat to realize what was happening, but as soon as he did, he joined in enthusiastically. A low gutteral sound of pleasure rumbled through his chest, and she could feel it more than hear it because of the way their bodies pressed together. She wasn’t sure how she’d ended up sort of in his lap, but she couldn’t find it in her to care because his stupid messy hair was so soft between her fingertips and his lips were just as warm and supple as they looked, and he was holding her so, so tightly as though he never wanted to let her go.
A quick break for air, their chests heaving in unison, and they dove back in. Swaying together, exploring each other, the rest of the world a distant memory. Somewhere inside her, something shifted into place. Emma felt lighter than air, as though the only thing keeping her grounded were Killian’s strong arms around her. Her skin hummed with energy. She was flying, she was glowing, she was… oh holy shit she was kissing Killian Jones!
Another break for air. Her lips chased his against her will, but she forced herself to pull back, keeping her face as neutral as possible.
Killian on the other hand… There was nothing neutral about him, with his eyes glazed, and his hair a dark riot from Emma’s fingers. His nose traced the curve of her cheek, and it took every ounce of willpower she possessed not to lean back into him at the ragged sound of his voice. “That was…”
A terrible idea? The best idea ever? Everything? No. Dangerous is what it was. Emma cleared her throat and stood awkwardly.
“It didn’t work.” She held up one hand, wiggling her fingers in demonstration.”Still no magic. Now come on, we need to get back to rehearsal.”
Emma walked away without looking back. She couldn’t bear to see him so beautifully wrecked. Couldn’t bear the thought that she might look the same. But, as usual, he caught up to her. “You know, love, one of these days I’m going to stop chasing after you.”
Though the admonishment lacked any real heat, Emma’s heart stuttered. She drew up short, but before she could form a response, Leroy, one seventh of the dwarf acrobatic squad and part-time handyman, stomped up to them.
“If you’re headed back to the Big Top, sister, don’t bother. All practices are cancelled for this afternoon.”
“Why?” Emma asked.
“I’ve gotta go fix the breaker box. There was some kind of weird power surge a few minutes ago. Didn’t you guys see the lights flicker? It happened all over the whole lot.”
Stunned speechless, Emma merely nodded her acknowledgement at the man. Meanwhile, Killian was grinning at her like the were-panther who ate the canary.
“Still think it didn’t work, Swan?”
Emma couldn’t think, couldn’t get enough air in her lungs. She needed to get away. To be alone for a while to process. “I'm going back to my trailer. Don’t follow me.”
For a guy who just a second ago was bursting with smugness, there was a striking note of longing in his voice when he answered, “As you wish.”
--/--
It couldn’t be. For so, so very many reasons, it couldn’t be. The power surge couldn’t have been her. And it sure as hell couldn’t have been because she was kissing Killian. Because that would mean…
No. It’d less than a dozen weeks since Neal. She couldn’t be developing feelings for someone else so soon. Shouldn’t be having feelings for anyone at all. Hadn’t she learned anything? Her brain kept telling her to get a grip. Shore up her defenses. Her heart though - all it wanted to do was beat next to Killian’s.
Emma couldn’t sleep that night. Every pop and creak in the darkness of her trailer, every light that flickered through her window - it made her wonder. She felt like hell the next morning and barely even had to fake illness to convince Regina she couldn’t rehearse or attempt any more magic that morning. Blessedly Ruby and Mulan backed her story. She knew her roommates heard her tossing and turning all night, and god knows the entire cast had seen the power surge the day before, but they didn’t press her for information. They just snuck her some breakfast from the cook house, and told her they’d check on her at lunch. The idea that she had real friends in her corner, well… that messed with her insides as much as anything else.
When she emerged the that afternoon, twenty four hours post-kiss, she found Killian sitting outside her trailer to greet her. Sleek and whiskery and right by her side as always. He didn’t shift into human form and try to talk to her. He just nuzzled her hand and looked up at her with glowing eyes that seemed to say, “I was worried about you.”
Emma told herself things could and should go back to normal. She tried over the next few days to act as though nothing had happened. That was what she wanted, right? If she could get her head on straight where Killian Jones was concerned, then maybe - maybe she could get a handle on the whole magic thing. So why did her freaking heart have to flutter every time she looked at him?
Pretending wasn’t cutting it. The situation required full-on avoidance.They needed to work together for the act, but outside of performances and rehearsals, Emma did as much as possible to lose her ever-present feline shadow.
“Swan, the Circus grounds aren’t very large, you can’t keep avoiding me forever.”
Emma kept walking. “I’m not avoiding you. I’m just dealing with stuff.”
“Right. Of course. Go ahead. Don’t tell me you’re not avoiding me anymore because I’m actually quite perceptive and this-” he gestured between them “-this is avoiding me.”
“Killian, I’m not in the mood.”
He caught her arm, spinning her to face him. “Look, if this is about the kiss-”
“That’s what you think this is about?” Emma interrupted, shrugging her arm out of his grasp.
“Is that not what it’s about? Swan that kiss meant something to me and if you’re honest with yourself, I believe it meant something to you, too. But I don’t expect anything from you. I won’t press the issue. There’s no reason we can’t even bloody talk to each other. We have to work together, love. At some point you have to trust me.”
“Trust is… not really my thing.”
“And why is that?’
“Because everyone I’ve ever cared about has left me behind! My parents, foster families, the guy I-” Emma froze. She hadn’t meant to mention him. She hadn’t meant to say any of this.
Killian nodded slowly, understanding dawning in his eyes. “And the guy, eh? I’m assuming this would be the person who was supposed to meet you in the parking garage.” Emma looked down at her boots and that apparently was confirmation enough. “Did you love him?”
“Killian…”
“Humor me.”
She snapped her eyes up to meet his. “Yes. I loved him. And I got my heart broken. That enough humor for you?” Emma kept her voice completely flat and finished with a sarcastic smile.
His whole demeanor softened. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m glad to hear that.”
“You’re glad to hear I had my heart broken?”
“If it can be broken, it means it still works.”
The heartbreaking gentleness in his face and voice knocked something loose inside of her. Emma opened her mouth but no words came out. No clever retort. God, how did she get here? He’s right. On some level she knew he was right, or at the very least he’s not wrong. For all she’s been through in her seventeen years on this earth, she can’t quite kill the hope inside her that home does exist. That there are people she can trust. That she can find someone to… But no. What if she was wrong about him? About all of this? She can’t - won’t take that chance.
She didn’t belong here. She couldn’t make her magic work, if she had any to begin with. She needed to get the hell away from Killian Jones and his eyes that could see right through her, no matter how loudly her heart was shouting at her to stay. What did it know?
Thankfully at that moment, Mulan walked up to them. “Emma. There you are. Regina’s looking for you. She said she found some new spell book she wants you to try.”
With a heavy heart and a tight-lipped smile at Killian, Emma walked away.
That night as she lay in her bunk, Emma made up her mind. She’d been here too long. She was getting too attached. All of Regina’s attempts to coax her magic out had failed, and it was only a matter of time before Regina gave up on her. Tomorrow night was a full moon. When Ruby went out for her run through the woods and Mulan went to sleep, Emma would leave Le Cirque Noir.
--/--
Packing didn’t take long. All Emma’s worldly possessions consisted of one sad little backpack and an old cigar box with a few keepsakes. She knew she was a coward for sneaking out, but it was less messy this way. No goodbyes. More importantly, no one to try to talk her out of it, and she really, really couldn’t handle someone trying to talk her out of it.
“Swan, where are you going.”
Emma nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of his voice. “Geez Killian, you scared the hell out of me. What are you doing out here this late?
“Couldn’t sleep.” His smile was tight and didn’t reach his eyes. “I could ask you the same thing.”
Emma tightened her grip on the strap of her backpack and tried fruitlessly to keep her tone casual. “I was just looking for Ruby.”
Killian narrowed his eyes as he approached her. “No. No, that’s not it. It’s a full moon tonight, Ruby’s probably out in the woods hunting rabbits right now.” He stopped right in front of her. “I know you’re new to this shifter business, but even you know better than to go traipsing off after a werewolf on a full moon. You’re running away.”
Emma planted her hands on her hips. “So what if I am?”
“You’re making a mistake.”
“I don’t want to talk to you about this.” Emma shook her head and moved to walk around him, but Killian kept talking.
“Think of what you’re leaving behind, Swan. Your family-”
That got her attention. Emma whipped her head around. “I don’t have a family.”
“That’s nonsense and you know it. You keep trying to run. What are you looking for?”
“Home.”
“This is your home, Swan. Here. With all of the people who-” She saw a flicker of hesitation cross his features before he finished the thought. “- who love you.”
God, it was all there. Everything she was afraid to face was right there looking her in the eyes. He held himself back from her, but she could see every emotion coursing through him in every clench of his jaw, every twitch of his dark brows. How could he do that? Open himself up like that? Look at her like- like-
Emma scoffed. “Look around Killian. I don’t belong here. I don’t see my family. I see fairy tales. I see magic and monsters and everything wonderful and special and it’s just… it’s not me. I’m not special. My magic - if I’ve really even got it - doesn’t work! I was never a part of this.”
“Then what are you a part of?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been a part of anything. I’m just a lost girl who never mattered. I always get left behind sooner or later.”
“So you run away before you can be left behind again. You’d rather leave everyone else behind. Don’t you even care about - about anyone here?”
“Of course I care. But I have to do what’s right for me and-”
The report of a shotgun pierced the night followed by a howl of agony. Emma and Killian’s eyes locked, their argument forgotten.
“Ruby!”
Even without a shifter’s enhanced hearing, Emma clearly made out the pitiful yelps and followed the sound into the trees. The sounds grew steadily louder until they crashed through the underbrush into a clearing to find an unnaturally large wolf with silvery eyes sprawled on its side. Blood matted Ruby’s dark, shaggy fur and her breaths came in shallow pants. Her cries of pain weakened into helpless whimpers, but as she caught sight of Emma and Killian she gave a whining cry of acknowledgement.
Emma knelt on the ground beside her friend and lifted Ruby’s head into her lap. “It’s okay,” she whispered, “It’s going to be okay.” But the words sounded hollow even to her own ears. Nothing about this was okay. Terror gripped Emma’s heart. Her friend - God, one of the only friends she’d ever had - was dying right in front of her and there wasn’t anything Emma could do about it.
Emma looked to Killian, her eyes pleading with him for a better answer than what she knew he could give. “You’re sure she can’t just shift and heal herself?”
He gave a small shake of his head. “It doesn’t work that way. Maybe if I shift, the panther would be strong enough to drag her back to the Circus lot?”
Emma surveyed Ruby’s broken body, tears pricking at her eyes. “I don’t think she’d survive the trip.”
Killian nodded. “You’re right. I’ll call Regina.” He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, glanced once at the screen then dropped it on the ground, growling with frustration. “No bloody cell signal out here.” He scrubbed a hand down his face and took a deep breath. “Alright Swan, it has to be you and it has to be now.”
“It has to be me what?” He wasn’t making any sense or maybe Emma just hadn’t heard him right over the rush of blood in her ears.
“You have to try to heal her. It’s her only chance.”
“But I don’t - I can’t-”
“You can, Swan. You have magic. You know you do. Stop running away from who you are. Think about how much you care about her, or how scared you are or - bloody hell, how angry you are at me! Whatever you have to do. Find that emotion and use it to save her.”
His eyes bored into hers and Emma couldn’t look away. The intensity of his gaze - no, the intensity of his belief in her grounded her. Broke through the haze of panic. He offered her his hand and she grabbed onto it like a lifeline.
“Now focus. You can do this, Emma.”
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Reaching deep within herself, Emma opened the floodgates of her guarded heart and allowed herself to feel how much she cherished Ruby’s friendship, how much she would miss her if she lost her, how much she’d miss everyone she had been planning to leave behind only an hour ago. You don’t have a home until you just miss it.
In that moment she knew. She had a home. She had a family. With that knowledge came a spark. A white-hot point of light, and Emma held onto it, pulled it up, up to the surface until it spread across her skin, accumulating in her palms and the tips of her fingers. A surging, radiating force just waiting to break free because a member of her family was dying and she’d be damned if she was going to let that happen.
Emma’s eyes sprang open and the first thing she saw was Killian’s face, a look of absolute awe across his handsome features. “What?” she murmured, a self-conscious smile tugging at her lips.
He bobbed his head in the direction of her lap. “Look down.”
Emma looked to find her hands glowing. Actually, literally glowing with bright white swirls of magic. She’d never wielded it before, not intentionally anyway, but some instinctive part of her knew exactly what to do.
“Killian, trade me places.”
He complied immediately, taking Ruby’s head into his lap and placing a hand on her shoulder to hold her steady. Emma took his place at Ruby’s back and extended both hands, fingers spread and palms down over Ruby’s side. The glow from her hands grew in intensity until it was nearly blinding. Emma had to close her eyes against the glare, but it didn’t matter. Some sense she never knew she possessed could feel the buckshot lifting from the wounds, the bone and flesh and fur knitting itself back together again, the blood returning to vital organs.
As suddenly as it had come, the light from her hands vanished. A loud yelp was the only warning Emma got before she found herself flat on her back on the ground, a paw larger than a human hand pinning her chest and a big, wet, rasping tongue licking her face.
“EW!” Emma squealed, giggling with relief. “Get off, ya mutt! You have dog breath!”
Ruby bared her wolfish teeth in something that looked (if a bit disturbingly) like a smile, and retracted her paw so Emma could sit up. She shook out her coat, rose onto her hind legs and shifted into a very much alive and whole human. She offered Emma a hand to get up from the ground and as soon as she was standing, pulled her into a bone crushing hug that Emma was more than happy to return.
“Look who’s a witch after all!”
“I guess I am.” Emma discreetly swiped a thumb under her eye before leaning back where Ruby could see her face.
“The bitch and the witch. Sounds like a pretty good band name.”
Emma laughed and shook her head, too relieved that her friend was okay to even bother with a sarcastic response or eye roll.
Killian hung back to give the girls their space, but Ruby waved him over and as soon as he was within reach, pulled him into a hug as well.
“Thank you. Thank both of you,” she said when she finally released the two of them from her death grip. “I was so focused on the prey I was chasing that I didn’t even smell that poacher.”
“We’re just glad you’re alright, Red,” Killian answered. “But if you’re feeling like some gratitude is in order, I know you know where Granny hides an extra pie. I certainly wouldn’t turn that down.”
“Done.” Ruby spun on her heel and headed out in the direction of the Circus lot with Killian following her, but Emma hesitated.
“Um, Ruby? Can we catch up with you in a minute?”
Emma was such a stew of emotions in that moment, that she didn’t even scowl at Ruby’s lascivious smirk. “Oh, take your time, honey.”
Ruby disappeared from their line of sight and Killian took a step closer to Emma. “If it’s privacy you're looking for, you know she can still hear us. Wolf senses and all that.”
“Oh I know. I’m fully expecting the third degree when I get back to the trailer later.”
“Back to the…” Killian tilted his head in bemusement. “Hold on, are you actually staying?”
“Why did you think I wanted to talk to you?”
“I assumed you were simply saying goodbye.”
“I do have something I want to say, but it isn’t goodbye.” Emma took a step toward him. “I want to thank you, Killian. For believing in me. No one has ever really done that before.”
He smiled broadly. “You’re a bloody hero, Swan. A marvel. Believing in you is as easy as breathing.”
Blushing, Emma glanced away needing a respite from the earnestness in his eyes. “I wanted to say something else, too.”
“Aye, what is it?”
“That you were right.”
“Well, a man loves to hear that, darling, but what exactly was I right about?” Some of his customary swagger had returned as he stepped closer.
“That this is my home. This Circus, these people.” One more step and they were toe to toe. Emma lightly rested her hands on his chest, feeling the wild beat of his heart beneath her hand. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips as she looked up into his face, his expression so full of hope and promise, and she wasn’t afraid anymore. “You.”
He searched her eyes even as his hands found her waist, gripping there as if convinced she would try to run again. “You really are staying.”
Emma smiled and curled her hands around the lapels of his jacket. “I really am staying.”
“Then allow me to be the first to say, welcome home, Swan.” Or, at least that’s what she thought he was trying to say. Impatient half-way through the sentence, Emma hauled his mouth to hers and the last few words had been little more than a murmur against her lips.
Her hands found their way under his jacket and around his back, his tangled into her hair cradling the back of her neck. They swayed together in the moonlight as with each brush of lips and tongue the kiss grew deeper and sweeter. Determined and slow and steady as the stars shining down on them in the clearing.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, Emma knew that eventually they would have to stop. To go back and join the others, probably to the soundtrack of a few catcalls and wolf whistles when they showed up in the cook house hand-in-hand. But right now she couldn’t bring herself to care. Right now everything was perfect and right and good. Emma Swan had finally found her home.
End Notes: I have never done a magic AU before so this was a little outside my comfort zone, but it was so much fun to write! If you made it this far, thanks so much for reading. I'd love to hear what you think! I have a multitude of headcanons about this 'verse. Hit me up if you'd like to hear about anything.
Please be sure to check out all the fantastic stories and artwork in this year's CSLB. That's what I'm doing right now ;-)
165 notes
·
View notes
Text
More Blazin’ Trails Snippets
Just to let you guys know, I am working on other stories aside from Blazin’ Trails, since I have some other chapters in place that aren’t nearly finished yet. As for the next installment of Blazin' Trails, I decided that the next chapter should be decided by you guys. Chapter 30′s going to be the start of a few serious stories, including a brand new arc and a special, so I want to put up the lighter fare while I still can.
I’m going to do what I did the last time and put up the snippets of several chapters that I’ve been working on, and you guys pick your favorites. :D
Long post is long, so the snippets are going to be posted under the cut. And if there are any errors, I’ll be sure to fix them before I post the chapter.
1. Deputy Appreciation Day
Content: Adventure/Drama, Droop-a-Long-centric
Droop-a-Long sighed, his head resting on the desk, hat covering half his face, and his mouth curled into a small frown. "Ugh..."
Ricochet, who was throwing darts on the dartboard across the room, turned to look at his deputy quizzically. "What's the matter, Deputy?" he asked.
"I'm bored outta my mind, Mr. Ricochet," Droop-a-Long mumbled. "Not that I'm complainin' or nothin', but there's nothin' goin' on today and I feel right restless."
Ricochet's eyebrows went up in surprise. Out of the two of them, Droop-a-Long would never complain about nothing going on. "Is that so? Ya sure ya don't wanna play darts, Droop-a-Long?"
"You remember the last time I played darts, Mr. Ricochet. Reckon that ain't a good idea," Droop-a-Long answered.
Ricochet winced at that memory, and he took a look at his right shoulder, where one of his deputy's darts had landed before. "Yeah, that probably ain't," he said. "Well, I reckon there are a few things you can do for me, Droop. That'll probably help ta get rid of your boredom."
"Ya need me to go shoppin' or anythin', Mr. Ricochet?" he asked.
Ricochet pulled out a list from the top desk drawer, and handed it to Droop-a-Long. "I wrote this out a few days ago, but I didn't get around to it 'til now," he said. "We're runnin' low on sweets, so I need you to buy some more."
Droop-a-Long sighed again, this time in resignation. "Alrighty, Mr. Ricochet. I'll be back in a bit," he said. Slowly, he rose from the desk and made his way over to the door.
Ricochet shook his head as he took another dart from his junk drawer. "That's definitely unlike Droop, bein' so restless," he remarked.
2. Acting the Part
Content: Humor, friendship, movie-making chaos and adorkable Ricochet and Droop-a-Long
Ricochet sighed as he looked up from his paperwork to look at the clock. He sighed. "Where is that Droop-a-Long? I coulda sworn he'd said he'd be back from lunch in thirty minutes," he said. Getting up from his chair, he made his way over to the door.
To his surprise, the door gave way for him and slammed against the wall with such force that it broke in half. Droop-a-Long came running in, and attempted to slide to a stop, only to crash right into Ricochet. Both of them went crashing into the stove, denting it with the force, and soon Droop-a-Long was lying on Ricochet's back.
"Droop-a-Long, I almost never tell ya this, but slow down next time ya come barrelin' through the door!" Ricochet scolded, glaring up at Droop-a-Long from his position on the floor. "Now get offa me!"
"Sorry, Mr. Ricochet," Droop-a-Long said. With a small groan, he pulled himself off of the floor and off of Ricochet. "I didn't hurt ya or anythin', did I?"
Ricochet got up and brushed off his fur. "No need to worry, Droop. I'm fine," he replied. He looked up at his deputy. "Now, what's got you so excited?"
"Mr. Ricochet, a TV crew's come ta town, and they're lookin' for actors to play as the sheriff an' deputy in a western drama or somethin'," Droop-a-Long said.
"Why, that's big news, Droop-a-Long! Who's directin' the show?"
"It's Brave Starr himself, Mr. Rico-"
"The Brave Starr? As in, the famous movie actor Brave Starr?" Ricochet asked, his eyes wide.
Droop-a-Long nodded. "Yup, he looks jus' like he does in them posters…minus the cowboy hats."
Completely unexpected for the sheriff, Ricochet let out a squeal of surprise, one that shattered the windows. Droop-a-Long had to cover his ears from the volume of it.
"Y-You seem right excited 'bout it, Mr. Ricochet," Droop-a-Long noted, seeing as Ricochet was jumping up and down.
"Of course I'm excited! I love his movies! I've watched every single one of 'em!" Ricochet said. "And he's comin' here to work on a picture!" He let out another squeal of delight, this one thankfully lower in pitch. "This is so excitin'!"
Droop-a-Long stared at him in surprise. In all the years he'd known Ricochet, he'd never seen him get this happy. He only hoped that Ricochet didn't squeal again, or else he'd break all the windows in town. "It sure is, Mr. Ricochet…"
"Where are they holdin' auditions at?" Ricochet asked.
"Uh…" Droop-a-Long scratched his chin. "I have no idea. Iffin' Mr. Starr said anythin' about it, I couldn't hear it over all the townsfolk clamorin' for a part."
"I can't blame 'em for doin' it," Ricochet said. His face was still set into a wide grin, and Droop-a-Long couldn't help but wonder if his face hurt. "Wow, a real chance to work on a television show! This could be a big break for me, Droop-a-Long!"
"But if ya become an actor, who's gonna be sheriff 'round here?" Droop-a-Long asked.
"They might ask you to be sheriff, Droopy. If anybody doubts ya, I'll put in a letter of recommendation for ya," Ricochet said. "Now, ta get ta town an' see if they pick me!"
Before Droop-a-Long could say anything, Ricochet shot out of the office, creating a gust of wind that dragged him out the door. Droop-a-Long had no times to even grab onto anything; he was soon out of the office and crashing through the bank window.
The teller gasped in shock as he looked down at Droop-a-Long, who was sprawled out on the ground, but then he sighed resignedly. This wasn't the first time Droop-a-Long had crashed through that window…or any window in town, for that matter.
"To be fair, Deputy, I don' think anybody's safe from Ricochet's takeoffs," he said.
Droop-a-Long groaned as he looked up at the teller. "You can say that again…"
3. Lack of Willpower
Content: Ricochet trying (and failing) to keep his New Year’s resolution
Ricochet shook his head as he closed the door to the bathroom. "Never thought I'd see the day where Droop-a-Long would be so impatient," he said. "Ah, well. He knows how I like my showers, anyway."
He then went about drying himself, and tossed the used towel into the basket. After using a comb to straighten his fur, he put on his black and orange-starred shirt, straightening it out before starting to button it. But when he got to the middle of the shirt, he noticed a tightness around his stomach area. "Hmm..." He took a look at himself in the mirror on the door, his eyes traveling to his midsection. "Did I gain weight since last year?" He looked over at the scale in the corner of the room and sighed. "Reckon there's only one way ta find out."
He walked over to the scale and put it on the ground, and then stepped on it, making sure to stay completely still as the scale did its work. When it finally hit the number, Ricochet's eyes widened in shock.
"What?! That can't be right!" Ricochet said. "This thing says I've gained over twenty pounds!"
"Mr. Ricochet, are ya ready now?" Droop-a-Long said. "I've got breakfast ready for ya."
Ricochet's stomach roared at that. "Alright, Droop-a-Long," he said, walking over to the door. He opened the door. "You can come in now."
"I was hopin' you weren't standin' in front of the mirror all mornin', Mr.-"
Pop.
"OW!" Droop-a-Long shouted, clutching his eye and falling backwards on his rear.
"Droop!" Ricochet cried, running over to help him up. "Are ya alright?"
"Y-Yeah...somethin' hit me in the eye," Droop-a-Long answered. His right eye cracked open and looked down at his friend. "It was somethin' round an' black..."
"Round an' black?" Ricochet asked. He then looked down at his shirt. The middle button had popped off, the string hanging loose. He sighed. "I know what hit ya. It was my shirt button."
Droop-a-Long looked down at the shirt and then at Ricochet. "Your shirt button?"
"Y-Yeah...apparently, I've gained some weight since a few months ago," Ricochet said. He scratched the back of his head, embarrassed. "I stepped on the scale ta make sure I wasn't imaginin' things, an' sure enough, I've gained over twenty pounds."
"Oh...well, you did eat a lot this holiday season, Mr. Ricochet," Droop-a-Long said. "That might explain it."
"But I don't get it, Droopy. I have a pretty high metabolism, an' I'm not lazy when it comes to exercisin'! I don't know how this happened!"
"It might be your diet, Mr. Ricochet."
"My diet? What's wrong with my diet?" Ricochet asked.
"As much as you eat vegetables, you eat a lot of sweet food. An' you've also been eatin' takeout, especially this year durin' the holidays," the coyote said.
"Well, regardin' the takeout, there were some nights where I didn't feel like eatin' homecooked food. An' also, because I wanted it," Ricochet explained.
Droop-a-Long's unchanged expression made Ricochet pause. He sighed. "You're right. I really do need ta change my diet," he said. "Looks like I'll have to curb on the takeout an' start hittin' the gym."
"Plus, don't forget that you have to stop eatin' sweets," Droop-a-Long pointed out.
Ricochet looked at him as though he were insane.
4. Chick Magnet
Content: Clueless Chick Magnet Droop-a-Long
When they walked into the saloon, the waitress who normally served them, a young, pretty brunette named Gloria, was busy serving another table. When she saw them, her face immediately lit up. "Howdy, Sheriff Ricochet, Deputy Droop-a-Long," she said. "I'll be right with ya in a second; I've gotta bring drinks over to another table."
Nodding to her in acknowledgement, the sheriff and deputy pair made their way to their usual spot, which was a table close to the pool tables. A few minutes later, Gloria came over to them, smiling down at them. "Long time, no see, boys," she said.
"Howdy, Gloria," Ricochet answered, tipping his hat to her. "I see you're lookin' as beautiful as ever."
Droop-a-Long sighed amusedly as Gloria chuckled; Ricochet had a compliment for almost every woman in town. "Thank ya kindly, Sheriff Ricochet," she said. "An' you're jus' as smooth as ever, I see."
"Well, Sheriff Ricochet ain't lyin' about you bein' pretty, Miss Gloria," Droop-a-Long said, making her turn to him. "That new dress of yours really brings out your eyes."
Gloria's smile brightened at this. "Wow, you noticed," she said.
Droop-a-Long smiled shyly. "Heh, well, that an' your new haircut," he said. "I think the folks in town were wrong ta say that it looked bad. It looks really cute."
"Aww...thanks, Droop-a-Long," she replied. "Most men don't appreciate the time a woman puts into her appearance."
Droop-a-Long blushed. "Shucks, well..."
"Oh, an' I almost forgot to thank ya for fillin' in when the head chef was sick," Gloria said. "It must've been taxin' for ya, since you were busy."
"Aw, it's no big problem at all, Miss Gloria," Droop-a-Long said. "I'd have dropped anythin' to help ya if ya needed it."
"Your cookin's almost as good as your charm, ya know. You should keep that in mind," Gloria said. "Now, will it be the usual for you fellas?"
"Yup," Ricochet said.
"Oh, uh...I'm thinkin' of havin' that brand-new steak an' potato skillet dinner," Droop-a-Long said.
"Y-You mean the recipe that I came up with that time you were here?" she asked, surprised.
Droop-a-Long nodded. "I feel like somethin' other than the open-faced sandwich for once."
"Well, then, I'll tell Gustav immediately! I'll be back with your drinks soon, boys!" She sent a wink to Droop-a-Long and hurried off to set their orders.
Droop-a-Long opened his napkin, only to notice Ricochet looking at him. He turned to face the sheriff. "What is it, Mr. Ricochet?"
"Droop-a-Long, don't tell me you didn't notice that," he said.
"Notice what?" Droop-a-Long asked.
"Notice what? She was flirtin' with you, that's what!" Ricochet hissed.
"Flirtin'?" Droop-a-Long repeated, his eyes wide. "Now that's impossible. Miss Gloria's a good friend of mine, Mr. Ricochet. She doesn't like me like that. Plus, she was thankin' me for helpin' her."
"No friend thanks ya by sayin' 'Your cookin's almost as good as your charm', Droop-a-Long," Ricochet said. "I'm your best friend, an' you've never heard me say that."
"Well, that's true...I would've thought it odd iffin' ya did say that."
"An' you didn't find it odd that she did?" Ricochet asked.
"That's probably her way of sayin' thanks, Mr. Ricochet. I don' see the big deal," Droop-a-Long said.
"Droop-a-Long, think. Ya gave her sincere compliments 'bout her looks. You told her that you'd drop anythin' to help her. An' you ordered that dinner-which she mentioned that she came up when ya filled in for that cook," Ricochet continued. "Did you see how fast she raced off ta get the orders for us? She wants ta please ya!"
Droop-a-Long shook his head. "I jus' don't think that's possible. Almost everyone in town knows I'm with Denise," he said.
"Key word bein' almost," Ricochet pointed out. "Gloria moved here from Kansas, an' one of the first people she met was you. She's gonna be right sore when she finds out the feller she likes is already taken."
"But-"
"Alright, boys!" Gloria's cheerful call came a few moments later. Both Ricochet and Droop-a-Long turned around to see her standing there, holding a tray of hot food in her hand and a tray of drinks in the other. Her smile was big as she looked at Droop-a-Long. "You're in luck, Deputy Droop-a-Long; Gustav was in a real good mood today an' he got the food done in record time!"
"Wow, that's a rarity," Droop-a-Long pointed out with a wry smile. The stories of the saloon's cantankerous chef were legendary around these parts. His smile became elated as he looked at the piping hot skillet loaded with sizzling steak and steaming potatoes. "This looks delicious, Miss Gloria."
"Yeah. If I weren't a rabbit, I'd sink my teeth into that," Ricochet noted. He looked up at Gloria as she set the bowl of soup down in front of him. "Thank ya kindly, Gloria."
"My pleasure, Sheriff," she said. "I'd best get back to the kitchen before Gustav finds a reason to yell at me." She sent another smile towards Droop-a-Long before disappearing into the kitchen.
Ricochet looked after her and then at Droop-a-Long, who was blowing on a piece of steak on his fork. "Ya see what I mean now, Droop-a-Long?"
Droop-a-Long let out an exasperated sigh. "Mr. Ricochet...look, I'll ask 'er about it in person, but until I hear her say it herself, I'm not gonna jump to conclusions," he said. "Now iffin' ya don't mind, I'd actually like to eat my lunch."
Ricochet groaned. Obviously, his deputy was stubbornly set on ignoring what was staring him dead in the face. "Alright, Droop-a-Long..."
So after reading these, which do you think should be the next chapter of Blazin’ Trails?
0 notes
Last Seen Blogs
trancefixedinyoureyes
Untitled
courierserviceposts-blog
Since 1989, Smart Delivery Service has grown not just in size,
newpropertyingurugram
Untitled
importantghostlovereagle
İsimsiz
distributorbesekbambu
Untitled