thankfully i actually think it looks better now

Sometimes you just need a hug.

The latest tweet of Bitty’s sits there staring at Jack from the top of his feed.

He’d found the account a few weeks back and he never built up the courage to let Bitty know. This might be the right time though.

Jack stares at his wall as he thinks it over. He could walk across the hall right now and knock on Bitty’s door and then he’d be there and he could just open his arms and Bitty would fall right into them and he’d finally be holding Bitty right where he wants him. Finally be able to see how far around his arms stretch across Bitty’s back, finally resting his chin on the top of Bitty’s mess of blonde hair, feeling Bitty’s breath fan across his chest.

Jack clutches his phone.

Or he could just stay here. Stay safe and keep this all as a possibility. Maybe it’s better than way. Keep him and Bitty and something that could be. If he goes over there and he gets rejected, that would just ruin him. It would become a never be.

He looks at the tweet again.

He knows that exact feeling. Having a horrible day and feeling absolute shit and telling yourself to just stand up and do something or call someone or just anything to get you out of your head. Riding that edge of frustration and terror, not sure whether you want to yell or cry or sleep.

Telling yourself to get over it before someone asks whether you’re okay and you have to lie, and also desperately hoping that someone notices.

He stands up, phone still clutched in his hand. He’s going to do it.

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I told you so.

Smuffy one-shot inspired by the 4X12 promo pics of CS being super happy and my hopes for long overdue sexy times. Thought I would get one more story in before the hiatus came to an end. One more week! (Mild M rating on this one)

“It’s nice seeing you so happy, Emma.” Mary Margaret caught Emma’s blush before turning back to the rest of the party, leaving her daughter in the safe arms of Killian in their corner booth. Emma felt Killian’s arm apply a bit more pressure to her waist, almost imperceptibly, but enough for her to notice. She lifted her head from the crook of his neck to look at his face, expecting to see a smug smile on his lips. Instead, he met her gaze with a happy smile, no hint of mirth behind it.

“It’s okay, you can say it.”

Killian looked at her quizzically, cocking his head a bit to the side. “Say what, Swan?”

“I told you so.”

She watched as his eyebrow lifted, and his hand came up to scratch behind his ear. “Love, I confess to not quite knowing what you mean by that?”

“Oh, it’s an expression. It means…well…when someone says something to you that you deny, but later comes true, that person can say ‘I told you so’ when they’re proven right.”

The confusion left his features and a look of quiet contemplation took its place. He shifted slightly so he could look her directly in her eyes, searching for what she might be referring to behind her jade irises.

“So, love, what declaration of mine are you claiming has come to pass?”

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just me, her & the moon

a very short, very unnecessary fic


The party blows. Diana knew the second she walked in that it was gonna blow. Because she still doesn’t know any of these people: Consequences of being new in town, you know?

She still puts on her best clothes. The jeans that are ripped in all the right places. The light gray tee that compliments the pale pink of her dreads. Her favorite Doc Martens. She’s dressed to impress even if no one’s looking.

But she hopes that one person is. She hopes for a lot of things as far as Olivia is concerned. It’s a few months into the semester now and so far she’s gotten nowhere. More consequences of being new in town. And maybe being slightly invisible? (Her dad is a physicist though and he insists that’s not possible.)

Diana tries. She turns up at this party and lingers around with a cup of flat lite beer and a smile so disingenuous she could have bought it at Walmart. She tries her best…and it takes her a while (around forty minutes) before she realizes that her best isn’t good enough. Olivia is in the kitchen, devouring a bowl of queso on her own. Beside her is some dude that’s been breathing down her neck all night. She hasn’t told him to back off once. Maybe she doesn’t want him to.

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