not well but ssh

Chainsmokers:  Even before success, pussy was number one.

Me: Well, th-

ARMY: Ssh, our boys like them so they must be great.

Chainsmokers:  Only Justin Bieber and Drake can hold a candle to what we’ve done. Now we’re influencing the industry, putting out songs everyone copies.

Me: Are you su-

ARMY: tHey are great & we love them bc BTS does


Me: Can I-

ARMY: No, shhh

Chainsmokers: I wouldn’t bring my dog to China, obviously HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAH

Me: Wow, not only sexist but also making rascist remarks, huh?




  • Robert: Well, this was a waste of time. It's not here.
  • Aaron: You read Finn's text. Something's definitely happening here tonight.
  • Robert: Well, who knows, maybe he's started rustling cows again.
  • Aaron: Ssh! Did you hear that? Quick, up here! (Aaron and Robert hide behind a wall, Ross and Finn appear)
  • Finn: Ross, this is mad. If Mum found...found out that we were using her car for this...
  • Ross: Do we have a choice? No. Because the Chuckle Brothers crushed our cab, Finn!
  • Finn: Maybe you could try blackmailing them again?
  • Ross: I wanna go one better than that. Eye for an eye, car for a car.
  • Finn: What, you crushed HIS car? With what, your bare hands?
  • Ross: No, I've stashed it somewhere safe and it's gonna stay there until we get the money for that taxi. Right, let's get this sample, then we've got somewhere to be. (go inside)
  • Aaron: What are they doing?
  • Robert: My guess, something they shouldn't be. (Ross and Finn come back out, leave)
  • Aaron: What do you think's in that bag, then?
  • Robert: Come on, over here.
  • Aaron: The car's not here, Robert.
  • Robert: I'm not looking for the car. (breaks the door down, they find the weed)
  • Aaron: They're not normal plants, are they? Are you thinking what I'm thinking?
  • Robert: Oh, yeah. Ross Barton, the gift that keeps on giving and giving and giving.

anonymous asked:

After a time of Fox Hux being a house fox, he comes across his brother. Poor Techie is starving and wet. Hux brings him home and now Kylo has two foxes to look after. Months later, after Techie is healthier, he meets Matt.

Imagine Hux coming back to the apartment one day, carrying another fox in his mouth by the scruff of its neck. And Kylo thinks that it’s just another injured fox, seeing as he can clearly see that the poor thing is malnourished and freezing.

But Hux transforms into his human body and begins fussing around the little fox, getting towels and blankets for him, wrapping him up and cradling him, kissing him softly.

“He’s my brother,” Hux says, nuzzling the fox’s head. “I thought I’d lost him. But he’s here. He’s alive. Oh, stars, Kylo–”

“Ssh,” Kylo hushes, seeing the emotion welling in Hux’s eyes. “He’s alright. Ill get him some food. He can stay here, Hux. It’s alright.”

And Hux is so thankful that Kylo is content with having Techie around, who’s too scared to shift in front of Kylo for a long time, just like Hux was.

But Techie eventually does shift and he eventually begins exploring the human world with his brother and his soon-to-be in-law. But when the three of them are walking back up the stairs to Kylo’s apartment, they meet his neighbour Matt halfway up…and Techie is enchanted. Matt’s yellow hair is like the sun, bright and warm, and Techie feels drawn to him.

“Who’s he?” Techie asks, pulling on Armitage’s arm.

“He lives in the den below ours,” Armitage answers.

Techie smiles. “I like him.”

morethanslightly  asked:

for the shipping meme: keith/shiro!

“who does which thing” shipping meme because why the hey not!

*takes this as a free excuse to babble about the Tall, Smart, Good-Looking Fic because…… uh, I wanted to?*

  • falls asleep on the couch: Shiro. Technically, they both do, but Shiro is more likely to fall asleep on the couch while Keith can and will nod off just about everywhere, as long as he gets to sleep. (That said: in ch. 10, Keith is literally sleeping on a couch where he knows campus security probably won’t get on his case about how he doesn’t live in this dormitory, and his rationale is, “What? At least I’m not taking a nap in a stranger’s car”)
  • makes friends with the neighbors: …Yes, but for very different reasons. Shiro, like, genuinely tries to make friends with the neighbors, so he can totally tell you about how Mrs. Johnson, the old widow down the hall from Matt and Pidge, is doing and will totally help her with her groceries because he enjoys helping people, and he can tell you how the cute lesbian triad across the hall from him, Lance, and Hunk are super-sweet and Emma makes these really intricate sculptures out of bottle caps, and so on because Shiro likes people and getting to know them.
    • Keith, otoh, bonded with Rolo and Nyma because the building that they live in sucks and all three of them have been through Some Bad Shit and they have a mutual enemy in Morvok: The Worst And Most Useless Landlord Literally Ever. Keith is also not aware that Rolo and Nyma consider him a friend, but Keith doesn’t think that most people consider him a friend, so.
  • is the adventurous eater: Keith. It can be hard to notice, because Shiro does have a pretty expansive and inclusive palate while Keith has a list of things that he Knows He Likes and prefers to stick to it (and it is also a decently-sized list, but fact is, Keith does have things that he thinks of as His Orders because he almost always gets them)…… but Keith is also more willing to say, “Fuck it, I’m hungry” and eat whatever’s there to eat at any given moment (because…… well, fuck it, he’s hungry).
    • Shiro, meanwhile, tends to have more finicky tastes, things that he likes some days but doesn’t feel up to eating other days, and while his list of Things That He Generally Feels Okay With does have a bit more “adventurous” options on it (depending on how you define the term, “adventurous”), there are days when he just…… doesn’t want to venture outside the comfort zone. Because on those days, it’s a choice between going outside his comfort zone and actually eating, and he’d rather eat right and not risk setting his recovery back.
  • hogs the covers at night: lmao Shiro. Okay, bless his heart, he tries not to…… but he still does it. He likes feeling secure in his blanket burrito (or with somebody snuggled up to his chest, which is about the only way to make him share).
  • forgets to do the dishes: also Shiro. Keith doesn’t really have that many dishes, so he doesn’t have the choice to forget to do them unless he wants to eat with his hands or drink milk straight out of the bottle (which he sometimes does, but he tries to limit that behavior to finals week).
    • As for Shiro, though? Like, okay cool, honey, you can say all you want about the weird shit that happens when Lance spaces out and forgets to take his Adderall…… but you don’t even have ADHD and you forget to do the dishes (almost) all the time.
    • One time, he tried to claim, “But I’m on kitchen probation again! :D” to get out of it. In response, Hunk paused making his own lunch to come put slices of bread on both sides of Shiro’s face and make him do the, “What are you?” “An idiot sandwich…” bit. (And then Hunk felt bad, hugged Shiro, and clarified that he’s not an idiot but, “kitchen probation” doesn’t include doing your damn dishes, okay.)
  • tries to surprise their partner more often: Shiro. Historically, it has not always worked out so well. It is, however, going to work out VERY well in about three or four chapters but ssh, I didn’t say anything. Also, possibly in about a chapter-and-a-half (between, “dinner with Allura and Shay for Keith and Allura’s birthday” and, “Shiro is stuck babysitting Slav for Ryou, and Keith has to come bring him lunch so he won’t burn down his poor brother’s kitchen”), but I’m still on the fence about that idea.
  • leaves dirty laundry on the floor: Both of them do it, but Shiro is guiltier of it. But that’s partly on the fact that he has more space to leave his dirty laundry than Keith does.
    • Seriously, his biggest reason not to leave his laundry on the floor is that he and Lance have more than once gotten their clothes mixed up and Shiro didn’t notice until he put on a shirt that he couldn’t immediately assign to one of them (like, a random Green Day tank top, as opposed to Lance’s SuperBat and “Free Kesha” crop-tops, or Shiro’s collection of Vonnegut t-shirts and “The Church of St. George [Michael]” shirt), and didn’t really think about the relative sizes because some of his shirts run small while some of Lance’s run bigger, and this was Other Than A Good.
  • stays up til 2 AM reading: Keith. Shiro used to do it, too, but part of that whole, “trying to work on his problems, going to therapy regularly, trying to get to a better place re: mental and emotional health” thing has been working on making himself stick to a bedtime (with a bit of wiggle room on nights when the band has a show, or when they forget to keep track of time and practice until four in the freaking morning).
    • Granted, this is a Work In Progress even without the part where he and the band are too punk rock for linear conceptions of time. Occasionally, Shiro needs either Lance to make a sad puppy-eyes guilt-trip face or Hunk to come glare at him in quiet disappointment until he feels bad about rereading Good Omens for the umpteenth time at 2:30 AM when he knows he has work and a session with Ulaz tomorrow.
  • sings in the shower: Shiro more often than Keith, but Keith has gotten busted singing in the shower before (by Allura, Rolo, Nyma, Shiro, their old roomie Mark, Coran, and multiple foster siblings).
  • takes the selfies: Well, Shiro is the one who takes the selfies with both of them because he has longer arms, but they’re both happy to trade solo selfies
  • plans date night: ………ahahaha, that’s a really funny joke. These two. Planning. Seriously, the closest you get is that both of them do that thing where they come up with a bunch of scenarios that might happen and all the ways that everything could possibly go wrong, and they get overly prepared for things that never come to pass, then have to improvise when things go other than how they expected
You Find Out They Have A Groupie

A/N: Aka you break up with him. I’m sorry Michael’s such a jerk and I don’t believe for a second any of the guys would cheat on their girlfriends with a groupie. Please enjoy reading and requests are open!

Masterlist | Request 


 It’s a peaceful afternoon and you’re enjoying the quiet of your apartment, feet up and sipping on some lemonade as you scroll through your Twitter. 

 Faster than you can blink, you Twitter explodes and you quickly discover what’s trending. #5sosgroupie. Your eyes narrow as you find the source of this new trend. Your searches take you to a link to a newspaper article. Hesitantly, you click on it and gasp as you read the article.

My name is Georgia Hawthorn and until a few days ago, I’ve been the groupie for the rock band 5 Seconds of Summer on their tour. Not only was I constantly used by all for members but they all lied to their respective girlfriends about it. So now it’s time to come out and be truthful. It’s all real. They were having sex with me whilst at least two of them had girlfriends. Both of them being long term. And if you don’t believe me, here’s a video. 

 Your mouth is open with shock as a low resolution video plays. It’s basically of Ashton staggering about, calling out this Georgia girl’s name and demanding he sleeps with him.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

It seems the plot for 2x3 may have been released. And this part was interesting. Kevin’s attempt at having a little fun causes Betty to grow concerned for his safety. Plus JH starts at SSH, and meets Toni in 2x3 as well.

Yes, one DOES fell concerned when one’s friend goes cruising and tweaking…..Juggie already started at SHS….he liked it, too. Episode 13. Hope he looks at Topheavy and remarks, “no thanks, my girlfriend has real ones”

for apalapucian, who deserves all the smiles in the world.
i’ve included some of your favorite things, sweetheart.

James woke reluctantly, groaning. His first order of business was to roll over and displace the bloody traitorous cat, who’d been sitting on his chest, pawing at his face. Not yet ready for consciousness, he ignored her mews of displeasure at this rough treatment and mashed his face into his pillow, determined to fall back to sleep.

It’d been a hell of a night.

It’d been a hell of a night and his entire body felt like it’d been repeatedly hit by a rogue bludger. His head simultaneously swam and throbbed; his stomach squirmed with that unfortunate combination of not enough food and even less sleep. He would’ve called it hung over…and it was, after a fashion: an empty glass bottle was definitely responsible for his current misery. The bottle in question, however, was rather smaller than an average alcohol bottle, lacked a gold foil label. Instead of a cork, it boasted a rubber nipple. And instead of being filled with his favourite whisky, this particular bottle had been filled with milk.

Awareness came whether James wanted it or not and he realized there was no familiar dip in the mattress next to him, no sweaty thigh plastered over his calf or arm tucked under the hem of his shirt. He wasn’t surprised to find her gone—obviously, the little bloke had woken up again—but that he hadn’t heard the wailing or her departure? He must’ve been knackered.

He was stillknackered, but just the same, he lifted his head enough to squint at the rocking chair in the corner.


Was it night, or had morning come? Did it even matter?

Time had devolved from the dayand nightinto a jumbled mix of Harry-is-awake or Harry-is-asleep or Harry-is-nearly-asleep or Harry-is-sleeping-but-only-just-so-for-the-love-of-merlin-and-circe-be-quiet or Harry-is-going-to-wake-up-any-moment-nowor Harry-is-sleeping-and-it’s-been-three-hours-do-you-think-everything-is-alright-should-we-owl-the-healer or  Harry-is-only-pretending-to-be-tired-because-he-smells-our-desparation-and-delights-in-our-misery.

Or something like that.

They stole snippets of sleep however they could, though it was rarely together. He’d found them snuggled on the sofa the day before. Earlier this week, she’d discovered him sleeping with Harry in the crook of his arm on the floor in front of the cot.

Since the bits they stole were never quite enough for either to get on functionally, they shuffled around the house at all hours in a hazy stupor, stifling too many yawns and crashing wherever they could. Inferi, they’d joked, though they knew it wasn’t funny.

In the second week, James had put a small novel in the toaster and nearly set the cottage to blaze. Four days later James had pointed out, as Lily calmly sipped her tea, that she’d poured breast milk into her cup. She’d spewed it out across the kitchen table.

Currently, dim grey light filtered through a crack in the curtains. Morning, then, or close enough. He ought to get up, try and hunt them down, if only to bring one—or both—back to bed with him.

The cat batted at his leg, impatient for milk.

For good measure, James released a loud groan as he rolled out of bed. He stopped in the loo to splash water on his face…a half hearted attempt to rouse himself.

In school, he’d refused coffee, even when he was exhausted, or what he’d mistakenly and naively called exhaustion back then. He’d refused it on principle, stating somewhat self-righteously that he didn’t believe in stimulants. And he hadn’t, for exactly two consecutive overnights for the Order. He’d been so drowsy he fell asleep, missed his mark, and the humiliation was enough to make him swallow his pride and the coffee and it quickly became a necessary part of his routine.

He’d been relieved to give it up when they’d been forced into hiding. But desperate times, desperate measures, and all that; James found himself setting pots to brew at all hours. Coffee sounded bloody fantastic right now. He was on his way downstairs to brew some, but upon exiting the toilet he heard the mechanical winding of the camera, the familiar snap of the shutter. He opened the door infinitesimally, just in time to hear it go off again. Despite the early hour, Lily was awake and leaning over the cot, camera in hand, snapping pictures of Harry, who was presumably fast asleep.

He mustbe asleep; else she’d be holding him. 


James walked in and stopped behind his wife, reaching ’round to brace a hand on either side of her, palms resting against the cot rail. “I never knew, before he came,” whispered James, nodding towards their sleeping baby, “that you enjoyed taking pictures so much.”

The camera he’d got her at the end of sixth year had been used more in the last month and a half than the previous three years combined. He wrapped an arm around her abdomen, pulling her snug against him, and peered into the cot, to their little man inside it.

“How many pictures do you plan to take of the little bloke?”

She leaned her head back on his shoulder and looked up toward him, answering in an undertone, “As many as I can get away with before he starts snatching the camera out of my hand, or covering his face, or protesting…“

James rolled his eyes and ran his fingers lightly over her stomach, teasing. “You cannot be thatmum.”

“Your mum, you mean?”

“Exactly. Took pictures of me constantly. Drove me barmy.”

She squirmed under his wandering fingers and pawed at his hand. He stopped, realizing she close to laughing, which definitely would have woken Harry up. “I know she showed you the albums—she had an album a month,” he half warned, half pleaded into her ear. “Please, don’t be her.”

“Yes, love, I’ve seen them all. But you’ve got to understand, James, that I have hardly any pictures of myself as a baby. Mum was too busy chasing after my sister. I don’t want that to happen to him.” She pointed to his exposed toes, “Anyway, look how perfect he is.”

“You weren’t saying that when he sicked up all over your shirt a few hours ago.”

“Well, no,” she admitted. “But a shower and a few hours’ sleep helped my perspective. I’d be a rubbish mum if I held it against him—he can’t help it, after all.”

“No, he can’t.” Just then, the absurdity of their situation compelled him to ask, “Lily, what in the bloody hell are we doing awake when he’s fast asleep?”

“He justfell asleep, James. You took him after he sicked up…”

“To be fair, you burst into tears.”

“Can you blame me? He sicked upon my favourite shirt. Like the bloody cat—“

That reminded him. “Oi, when was the last time we actually played with the cat?”

From his vantage point, above her, he saw her brows knit together. “Erm…I dunno. Merlin, we are terrible cat parents.”

“She’ll forgive us, right?” he asked hopefully.

She shrugged a shoulder, knocking into his. “We’ll add a few toys for heron Padfoot’s next shopping list.”

He nodded his agreement and kissed her hair. They’d just have to remember to use the toys and actually playwith the cat.

“Anyway,” she whispered, redirecting the conversation back to Harry, “he woke an hour or so after you came back. We’ve been up since 4:30 and he just went down. I was going to sneak back to bed but I saw his little toes, the camera was right there—“

“He’s going to catch cold with his booties off,” frowned James. He leaned forward, half crushing her against the cot as he reached for the discarded garments.

She pulled his hand back. “You worry too much. It’s August, James. If there’d been the slightest draft, I’d have put ’em back, straight away. It’s not like I took them off for the picture, you know. He kicked them off.”

This satisfied James well enough, and he moved to stand next to her, elbows on the rail. He examined their baby for a minute, then looked sideways at her, to see her profile. “I stood here and watched him last night, you know, after I got him back down. I’ve never seen someone wiggle so much in their sleep.”

Lily pressed her hand into her mouth, trying to muffle a strangled snort, and looked at him incredulously. “That’s only because you can’t see yourselfsleep, James. You nearly kicked me off the bed last week.”

He pulled a face at her. “At least I don’t hog the covers.”

But she was right, and he knew it. On cue, Harry shifted in his sleep.  James ran a finger lightly down the bottom of his, half-smiling as the toes curled in.

“How long will he have this reflex for?”

She shrugged, knocking his shoulder with her own. “Dunno. It’s in one of the books though, I’m sure.”

He glanced at the camera, now lying on the table next to the cot. “Padfoot’s going to hex us, you know. That’ll be three rolls of film this week.”

“Four,” said Lily, smiling sheepishly.

“You’re mad.”

“Oi, says the bloke who snapped an entire roll of him sleeping Tuesday afternoon.”

“He was doing that thing with his mouth,” defended James, “it was bloody adorable. Andhe had his first Potter jersey on. Needed to be well documented, now it fits.”

“Ssh!” she reminded him, and smiled, “James, it was still four sizes too large for him.”

He shrugged.

“I think they’re this adorable so we don’t lose our shit at the—“

“Sicking up on our clothes in the middle of the night?” he said knowingly.

She leaned her head against him. “Exactly. We make damned adorable babies, James.” She wiggled a toe. “Look at them. I could eat them.”

 “That’s an awful expression.”

“It is,” she agreed. “Doesn’t make it untrue though. Anyway, you’ve done it.”

“Done what?”

“I saw you lot on the sofa last week, when you thought I was having a lie in. You were blowing raspberries on his toes.”

“Well, yes, but he loved it. He was smiling.”

She tucked an arm around his waist and kissed his shoulder before resting her head against it. “It was just gas. He’s too young to properly know who we are yet.”

“He will, though, just in time to find out we’re nutters.” He kissed her hair, and hooked an arm around her shoulders. “By the way, you can’t tell Padfoot I was blowing raspberries on Harry’s feet. Never let me live it down.”

“I won’t.”


“Solemnly,” she said, grinning. “I mean, I did send him the picture, and I expect he’ll bring it up at supper tonight—”

Evans—” began James, staring at her in horror, but she cut him off.

Potter,” she’d interrupted him, only to interrupt herself with an errant thought. “Merlin, how weird is it that one day I’ll say that—Potter—and you’ll both say, ‘what’? And he’s going to wonder why you call me Evans all the time. You can’t tell him the truth—that you call me that when you want to jump me…”

He stepped away from the cot and pulled her with him. Her arms slinked around his neck as his found purchase around her lower back. He nuzzled her nose with his own, and whispered into her ear, “Don’t know how to break this to you, Evans, but I alwayswant to jump you. He’ll have to get used to it sooner or later. And the hellI can’t call you Ev—”

She was going to shush him but changed course, silencing him with her lips in another way. Much more effective, that, and more fun.

And—it’d been too bloody long for both of them, and they pressed against each other and lost themselves in their kiss. His hand slipped under her shirt, and she was toying with the waistband of his bottoms, and he backed her up against the cot. The cot, where their baby was sleeping.

He pulled away, breathless, and said, “Wait.”

“What?” she asked, trying to pull his face back down to hers. “Wait? James, it’s been a bloody sodding month—“

“Not wait, wait, Lil. It’s just…can we do this in front of him?”

She sagged against him and sighed. “Oh, right. Our lives just go so much more complicated, didn’t they?”

“In ways we never could have imagined,” he agreed. “Are our days of snogging and shagging whenever we want really over?”

“We were never thatbad,” said Lily. It was James’s turn to snort at her, and she smiled because of bloody course theywere that bad. “Think we both knew I was bluffing on that one.”

She tilted her head back to look him in the eye, “You know, Potter.”And she used thatvoice, and he didn’t stand a chance, not that he’d wanted one. “He just went down—he’ll be good for an hour at least.”

He didn’t waste any time, or words, simply grabbed her hand and led her, laughing, back across the hall.

The Parenthood Perpetration

A four-part fic to celebrate 500 followers :D Sheldon and Amy have their hand at being parents!

Part 1 - Tots

Bernadette and Howard stood weighed down by huge bags and brightly coloured toys. In Bernadette’s right hand, a baby carrier swung gently. They were speaking so fast that Sheldon and Amy were having a hard time keeping up, especially with Bernadette’s high pitched, squeaky voice.

“Thanks for doing this guys, it really helps us out” Howard dumped the bags he was carrying onto the floor.

“Oh it’s no trouble” Amy assured him. She smiled at the little sleeping boy in the carrier.

“Yes, yes. Go, have fun, rekindle that old spark that was once your marriage” Sheldon waved a nonchalant hand at the couple who looked at him disapprovingly.

Keep reading

Why are homophobes so casual about being homophobic. Like no. Don’t assume that everybody agrees with you. Don’t think your way of thinking is and should be the norm.

Dammit why are homophobes so comfortable expressing their hate while I have to sit and uncomfortably listen to it. It’s not fair.


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a deal is a deal is a deal so here’s a bunch of kc things i’ve done this year but didn’t post because they’re awful for goldcaught 

Things I love about Noel Fielding

- how he falls over when he laughs

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To my CS Secret Survivor killingme-thatssotwoyearsago I hope it is everything you want and more. Part two will be up Sunday! It grew so monstrous that I had to split it up :) have an amazing day Hannah!

More To You

Rated T


Summary: Emma Swan cannot abide by Killian Jones, local bad boy and the thorn in her side. He constantly goes out of his way to bother her. But when his antics land them both in detention for a week, Emma sees a new side of Killian she never expected. And she wonders if there’s more to him than meets the eye.

~Part One~

§ § §

He was making out in front of her locker.


Emma squeezed her peridot green eyes shut, her jaw clenched, her lily white hands strangling the strap of her denim satchel bag. When she opened them again, he was still there, his face being devoured by a girl Emma didn’t even recognize. Killian Jones, with his midnight black hair and his aquatic blue eyes, down right dashing good looks and charm, was the school’s all around bad boy player.

I guess he ran out of girls stupid enough to tangle with him here, Emma thought in distaste, her mouth set in a grim line.

With a weary sigh, Emma stepped forward, brazenly stuck her arm out and pushed the two interlocking teens apart. The girl made a whine of protest, her fingers morphing into claws as she attempted to hang on to him. Killian grumbled glaring at Emma as she plastered on one of her most spiteful smiles.

“Hey there, nice of you to come up for air,” Emma announced caustically as she came forward, her focus solely on her locker. “You know you could suck face in front of your own locker.”

Killian allowed a devastating smirk touch his lips as he surveyed her. Her wide black framed glasses had fallen to the bridge of her nose, her green, gem-like eyes peaking out over the frames. Her lips were painted red, complimenting her fair coloring. Pale blonde hair was tied up in an unextravagant pony tail, and she wore a simple white dress with royal blue flowers scattered over it, with a denim jacket and gray leggings. She was pretty, there was no denying it.

And she always had some scrumptious retort laying in wait. She didn’t smile and simper when he spared her a smile or gave her The Smolder. She didn’t melt when he waxed his charm on her, no she turned on him and snapped her teeth at him, her green gaze threatening to tear him limb from limb.

Killian loved a challenge.

Leaning against the row of lockers, training his gaze on her in a blatant manner that was intended to cause her discomfort, Killian continued to pursue her from head to toe. Emma continued to ignore him, even with the death stare Lily-or was it Millie?-sent her way, clearly peeved that the girl had so audaciously come between her and he.

“If you wanted a go with me, Swan, all you had to do was ask nicely,” Killian teased, blue eyes dancing.

Emma delivered him a reproving glare, green eyes scoring his black class body with displeasure.

“I’m not into the whole punk-rock-tortured-rebel façade you have going for you, Jones.” she said as she closed her locker, a metallic bang echoing through the hall.

A corner of Killian’s mouth hitched upward, watching her as she started down the hall.

“Well,” he drawled, as he followed after, his pace a happy-go-lucky swagger. “I must say, your Daddy’s-little-princess look does things to me. Though, love, you should really let your hair down.”

Emma whirled on her heel, glaring daggers at the boy. “Are you trying to win the Olympic medal for Most Annoying Ass on Earth?”

Killian grinned at her engagingly. “Oh, darling, you know I love it when you snap your claws at me. It’s adorable to watch you try and discourage me.”

Emma whirled away from him, an obscenity unfit for delicate ears bursting from her lips.

“Do you kiss your father with that mouth?” Killian asked as he sped up, turning so he walked backwards in front of her. “Tsk tsk, princess. What would your mother day.”

Green fire flashed in Emma’s eyes, and Killian at once felt a perverse sense of glee having had risen such emotions in her. The grin on his face only angered her further.

“I swear to God Jones-” Emma stopped mid sentence, her eyes widening as she saw the sudden dip of an up coming staircase. Killian was still waking backwards, completely unaware of what was ahead. Emma didn’t think about what she was doing, she simply reacted. Reaching out, Emma grabbed ahold of the lapels of Killian’s leather jacket, her books falling from her hands, throwing all of her weight into throwing him against the wall, pinning his much larger body with hers’ as her books stampeded down the staircase. Voices cried out in surprise, even a snort of laughter rang out.

Emma stared wide eyed as her books slid to a stop, here breathing harsh and shallow from the adrenaline. She glanced up at him and was at once captured by his gaze. He wasn’t smirking, there was no teasing glint in his eyes, instead there was something else. Some deeper emotion that Emma couldn’t name. His mouth was slightly parted, Emma found herself staring at it and the scruff along his jaw, which has stubble hints of ginger there. Funny how’d she had never noticed that before. Emma took in a deep breath, the scent of leather, and salt tickling her senses.

It was nice.

All at once the softness of the moment was shattered by Killian wrapping his arm around her waist, pulling her even closer against him, his hand dangerously close to her butt. Fury raised up inside Emma, she released her death grip on his jacket and attempted to shove him away.

“Swan, I had no idea you felt this way,” he chuckled, as he reached up with his free hand to snatch her glasses away.

“You sonofa-”

“Miss Swan!”

Emma froze, craning her neck back to catch the outraged look on Mother Superior’s face. Dressed in a dark blue knee length skirt and button up sweater set, her hands braced on her hands, the nun looked fearsome.

“I had expected more from you! And with Mr. Jones no less!”

Emma’s eyes widened. She looked up at Killian who looked as equally surprised as she, then down at their bodies, still too close for comfort. Emma shoved him away, scrambling back towards the opposing wall.

“Mother Superior, I can explain,” Emma implored, her voice a tad higher than normal. “H-he, Killian that is, was walking backwards and he was heading for the stairs-”

“Hush, Swan,” Killian said coming forward. “Listen now, madam, you and I both know that Emma is far too good for the likes of me, and she knows it well. So, I suggest you give me my detention or suspension, and we all go on our merry way. You know how Swan loathes to be tardy to Study Hall.”

Mother Superior gave the two of them a withering stare before delivering her next words;

“Detention; both of you. Today. In the library. You’ll be helping Miss French shelf books.”

Emma’s mouth dropped open, working to make words come forth but all she could manage was a feeble “But!”

Jones, though was much more eloquent in his verbal response.

“Bloody hell, sister! We didn’t do anything wrong!”

Mother Superior’s black eyes cut into slits, her mouth forming a grim line of sour distaste, and gave way to a dark smile.

“Now you both have a week of detention. Any further complaints Mr. Jones?”

Emma watched Killian closely, waiting for him to lose his temper. She watched as the muscle in jaw ticked away, his teeth grinding as he fought to remain silent.

“Not at all, Mother Superior.” He ground out through his teeth.

Mother Superior tilted her head in a way that was reminiscent to a queen at court. “Good.”

Neither moved as they watched the nun retreat. Emma was a jumble of dread and turmoil-fury. Fury at Killian stupid Jones.

“Bitch,” he muttered as the nun rounded the corner and was out of sight.

“You just couldn’t keep your mouth shut could you?” Emma snapped at him as she turned to face him. “You had to be an ass and egg her on. You did it on purpose, didn’t you?!”

One of Killian’s brows shot up in a questioning manner. “You think I fancy getting sent to the cooler?”

“Don’t talk British to me, you…you pirate! You purposefully got us a week of detention together just so you can annoy me without hindrence!”

Killian broke out in body shaking laughter, rubbing his hand along his jaw. “Well you think a lot of yourself, don’t you princess?” Killian leaned forward, bringing their faces inches apart. “You think I need to be trapped in a room with you for an hour a day to annoy you? Love, you don’t know me very well.”

Emma looked up at him, her anger cooling to something else. A feeling she couldn’t quite place.

“You’re right Killian, I don’t know you. And I’d like to keep it that way. So stay away from me.” and with that Emma turned on her heal and stalked off to her first period class.

Killian watched her go, smiling slightly. Damn it, he loved getting under that lass’s skin. Was he upset about the week of detention? He was bloody pissed! But Emma would be there. Killian grinned at the thought of being around her excited him.

He had a feeling that this next week would be an exciting one.

§ § §

He was late. Of course. Emma was crouched in front of on of the twenty book shelves in the school library, shelving everything from Abernathy to Biker. Miss French had instructed her to get straight to work and Emma hadn’t wanted to fight with the sweet looking brunette. It was twenty minutes into detention and with every second that past Emma was more and mor sure that Jones was a no show.

Typical. Typical of that stupid, leather wearing, ba-

“Thinking of me, love?” A voice purred as something cold and wet touched the back of her neck.

Emma yelped loudly, leaping forward, colliding into the book cart, sending it crashing onto its side. Killian stood over her, smirking, two cans of soda in his hands.

“Well that was graceful,” he chuckled.


“Ssh!” Came a voice from across the stacks and in a moment Miss French was frowning at them. “This is a library, not a jungle gym. Emma, please be more careful; books are precious. And Mr. Jones,” she said looking at him pointedly.

“Milady,” he bowed, the picture of a gentlemen.

The player.

“No drinks or food in the library,” she said a smile cracking across her face. “To work now.”

And with that she turned on her pin heeled shoes and was gone. Emma threw Killian her most withering glare, but the boy merely ignored her, righting the cart and kneeling down and gather the fallen tomes. Emma frowned at him, awaiting the snide barb, the mocking laughter, anything. Jones felt the weight of her stare, his blue eyes meeting her green ones, a flirtatious smile on his face.

“See something you like, Swan?” he asked with a crooked smile.

“Where were you? What took you so freaking-” he silenced her with a finger to her lips, the unexpected contact was jolting, zinging through her body similar to a minor electrical shock.

She stared at him wide eyed as he whispered;

“Sh, this is a library. And I was delayed due to personal matters. I bought you a soda though-until you drew the attentions of a certain librarian.”

“You scared me! I’m going to put a damn bell on a collar and make you wear it!”

He grinned. “Will it say ‘Property of Emma Swan’ on it?”

Emma simply glared at him and turned her attention to the stack of books.

Knowing he was being dismissed, Killian scooted next her, lifting one of the books from the cart and shelved it in its proper place. Emma shot him a daggered look, hissing venomously;

“Work somewhere else! This is my pile, my shelf-”

“You are rather possessive you know that? Mine, mine, mine,” he said as he took another book and slipped it back in place. He glanced at her. “Why is that do you think? Perhaps it’s because you were an orphan for your first eight years before the Nolan’s adopted you?”

Emma simply looked at him, her gaze absolutely lethal.

“You know nothing about me,” with that she turned away from him, digging in her bag for her phone, plugging her ears with her ear buds and turned her music up as loud as it could go.

Jones seemed to take the hint because he scooted as far away from her and began shelving the B’s. Emma sighed as she hummed the lyrics to the song.

This was going to be a long week.

To Be Continued.