There is a Youtube playlist you can listen to that goes with this fic. Listen at youtube dot com slash playlist?list= PLWN8Uu8V5RChvSaDEQglOmBy_l1hkfnm8 (remove any spaces)
There are days Emma regrets deciding to get a Masters in Criminology; today is one of them.
She stares at her white screen the blinking cursor mocking her. It's not that she doesn't know what to say about rape culture in the media. It's that she has so much to say she doesn't quite know where to start. She sighs and looks around her quiet corner of the library. As she contemplates the size of a volume on maritime history a new song begins on the Youtube playlist she had started almost an hour ago. There is a pause and then a single chord on a piano. Then a deep, rich, voice starts "My romance doesn't have to have a moon in the sky"
She feels a thrum in her veins and she can't help flipping her screen from her word processor to first thing she notices is his smile. It's framed by dark scruff and dimples. He looks up and into the camera and Emma can't help the way her stomach flips a little. His sapphire eyes sparkle at her through the screen. Talented, attractive and sings Ella Fitzgerald; a dangerous combination Emma thinks before allowing herself a small smile. She clicks into his channel. His screen name is K. Jones, he has a handful of followers and a couple dozen videos. She spends a few long minutes staring at his profile photo before mentally shaking herself. The last thing she needs is to start crushing on some random, gorgeous, musician. But, she reasons, his music is good and the whole reason she listens to Youtube playlists is to discover new artists. She clicks on his "Covers" playlist but then forces herself to switch back to her paper.
Miraculously as his rich voice pours into her ears inspiration strikes. Emma's fingers begin to fly and she finally has more than a title and an outline. He is a talented musician with varied taste. His songs bounce from old standards to new hits. With every video Emma finds herself eventually switching the screen to watch him. She notices that he doesn't have a high tech set-up. Just him on a couch with a guitar or at a piano. He is probably just using his laptops webcam. His clothes are always casual, t-shirts that show off his spectacular arms and jeans on just the right side of form fitting.
The latest song starts with tapping on his guitar, followed by some energetic strumming. She taps her foot and hums along.
"If you can't hear what I'm trying to say." His voice is velvet soft and wraps around the lyrics. "Maybe I'm going blind. Maybe I'm out of my mind."
Emma can't help bobbing her head, her fingers taping words in time with the music. She feels a vague recognition at the melody and lyrics but can't place it until
"…take a good girl."
"No!" Emma actually whispers when the realization hits her. She flips back to her browser and the image of him strumming his guitar.
"I know you want it." He looks into the camera again with a smirk and Emma's stomach twists but this time it is in repulsion. She rips her headphones out of her ears in disgust. Her eyes catch the title of the video "Blurred Lines- Acoustic Cover" She feels a sense of betrayal. That this anonymous, attractive, musician had tricked her into enjoying, even for a moment, the most disgusting song of the last decade. It feels like just one more confirmation of the lesson Neal taught her over a year ago. Men, even Youtube musicians, can't be trusted.
She looks around. She needs someone to rant to, to share her outrage with but she is alone. That had been the point of going to the library to be alone and undistracted by roommates and their antics. Finding nobody to vent to she turns back to the screen. "K. Jones" is still singing but she can't hear the words, can only see his stupidly attractive face. The fact that she is attracted to him only boils her blood more.
The Youtube comment box asks her to "share her thoughts" and so she does. She dislikes the video with a vicious click and closes the tab. Returning to her paper with a new determination. She listens to her Pandora for the rest of the day.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/
It's been a long night for Killian Jones. Tending bar in between sets on the stage had seemed like such a good idea at the time. But tonight it had been too much, the crowd too rowdy, the music not flowing the way he wanted. He arrives in the flat that he shares with his brother completely knackered and collapses on the couch with a sigh. His hands itch to pull his guitar out and lose himself in some mindless playing. But Liam is asleep and needs to get up early for his shift. He could risk it, but last time Liam had handcuffed him to the radiator as punishment. The joys of having a police officer for a brother.
After a few moments of internal debate Killian sighs and grabs his laptop. He heads first to Facebook, mindlessly scrolling for awhile. Then he decides to check Youtube, hoping some nice comments on his videos might help him feel a little better
Getting a YouTube channel had been Jefferson's idea. One night drinking in the pub he had argued the merits rather convincingly. "Why not? It doesn't cost anything and the potential pay off is huge. If Justin Beiber got discovered on YouTube why not you?"
He had a point. When Killian started to look into it he realized that there were a lot of "youtubers" that had managed to create decent to gigantic fan bases just making simple videos. Killian knew he was just as talented and hard working and he got excited at the prospect of having thousands of subscribers or going viral. So he created a channel and recorded a video of one of his more popular songs. And then he waited for the likes and the view count to go up. They didn't. Sure Liam, Jefferson, and Smee all watched it. They probably showed it to a few friends. But the video only got about 50 views in the first few weeks (and he knew 25 of those were probably just him checking the video).
Killian didn't give up. He kept uploading. He googled "how to get views on youtube" and did research into how others had found success. This was when he had started doing covers of popular songs. It was an easy way for people to discover you in a search. Plus if they liked your cover they might buy it and maybe even listen to your original songs. It had worked. He began to get more views and some actual subscribers. He liked to think that it helped that his covers tended to be re-inventions of the originals or mash-ups with lesser known or older songs. Lots of people seemed to love his fresh take and he had been steadily growing his following. Sure he only had about 300 subscribers but it was a start.
With the subscribers had come comments on his videos. He was surprised at how much he enjoyed hearing feedback. He tried to reply back to everyone, it was good form. He hoped that people appreciated hearing from him and he liked connecting with them. After a night like tonight he needed an ego boost. Unfortunately the first thing to appear was anything but complimentary. It was a comment on a very old video, a guitar cover of "Blurred Lines".
"People like you make me sick. Singing a song that is the definition of rape culture and attempting to make it sound sexy is five kinds of disgusting. I might have become a fan if your choice in music wasn't so appalling. Real musicians are in it for the music not the fame and meaningless sex."
Killian's eyes narrow as he reads the comment. It is to well written for a simple troll. This is a genuinely pissed off individual. He looks at the user. It is an unhelpful blue silhouette with the word "Swan" next to it. He clicks into the profile but it is an empty shell with no videos, activity, or an about. This "Swan" is an internet ghost. He clenches his jaw in frustration and closes the laptop. Roughly replacing it on the coffee table and stalking to his room.
He could perhaps forgive their frustration with his song choice. It wasn't his favorite either but it had been wildly popular and that cover had gotten him more than a few new subscribers. But to imply that he wants to be a musician for the groupies and the fame really angers him. Perhaps because it reminds him so much of Milah. He was a musician because he couldn't imagine being anything else. Because he lived and breathed music and because if he didn't write or play he would go mad with the unrealized melodies in his brain. This Swan didn't know him but their rude opinion haunts him for the next few days.
When he responds to the comment almost a week later he attaches a link to a new video. This one recorded just for Swan.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Emma curls her legs underneath her, sighing as she struggles to pay attention to the movie. After a long week of classes Emma and her roommates were all staying in; bingeing on junk food and movies. Elsa had picked first and, predictably, it was a Jane Austen movie. Emma didn't really go for all the lace and suppressed passion. She was an action movie person and couldn't wait until this drivel was over so she could watch Mission Impossible. She struggles through a few more scenes. When the Kiera Knightly character begins sassing off to the tall, rich guy she drags her laptop to her knees.
"Emma! You have to watch!" Elsa protests.
"I've seen this before! They hate each other and then they love each other. It's ridiculous."
"Emma Swan this is the greatest love story of all time!" Elsa cries. "What are you doing?"
"Just checking Youtube."
Anna plops down on the couch with a bowl of ice cream. "Ugh! Emma! That's like doing work!"
"No work!" Mary Margaret calls from the kitchen.
Emma shakes her head. "No. I am not on my Ugly Duckling channel. I am on my personal account. So it's not work!"
Emma is happy that she can flip her laptop and show them her screen as proof. Although she had been considering looking through her channel stats only moments before. She was so close to half a million subscribers and it was exciting to watch the numbers climb higher. One good resonating video was sure to push her over the milestone.
"You have a separate account? Isn't that like cheating? I mean don't your subscribers like to track what videos you like and comment on?" Anna speaks through a mouthful of mint chocolate chip.
Emma sighs. "That's kind of the point. I don't want people knowing EVERYTHING about my life."
Emma had never planned on becoming famous on YouTube, never planned on making it a quasi-career, it had just happened. She had started her sophomore year of college when some of her dorm mates had expressed interest in learning self-defense. Emma had made a video describing a basic technique, created an account called "Ugly Duckling" (an inside joke amongst her friends) and uploaded it. Overnight she had over fifty people asking for her to upload more. Turned out that there were a lot of college coeds wanting to learn how to gouge a man's eyes out. Then she started getting questions which had led to her talking into a camera about all sorts of topics. Her outspoken nature and insistence on not sugar coating anything had gained her a lot of subscribers. It had also attracted a lot of hate but the trolls had only fueled her determination and given her ideas for more videos. When she started to really get famous Emma had created a second account to avoid the scrutiny of her fans and her trolls.
"What's that?" Anna gestures at the screen with her spoon.
"Just a notification. Someone responding to a comment I left."
"Who is K. Jones?"
A flash of dark hair and blue eyes enters Emma's mind as she clicks on the comment. His "Blurred Lines" video comes up.
"Ugh." Emma pauses the video before it can play more than a few notes.
"Oh. He's cute!" Anna squeals.
"Let me see." Elsa gets up from the floor and leans over the back of the couch to get a look. Emma ignores the image of his smug face and focuses on his response to her comment.
"Apologies for having caused offense. Perhaps you will enjoy this video?"
Emma smiles a little, pleased at his penitent reply. She looks back at his face, frozen in a sly grin, before clicking the link. While the page loads she turns to Anna and Elsa, the movie all but forgotten as they gather round the laptop.
"He is just a musician that I called out for singing Blurred Lines."
"Oh Emma! You can't just berate random people on the internet!" Elsa exclaims as a short ad begin to play. Anna reachs over to switch the player to full screen.
"Clearly you haven't been on the internet enough. Besides it's a horrible song! And he wasn't upset. He made me an apology video!" Emma tries to ignore the way heat rushes to her cheeks at his thoughtfulness. The ad finishes and Emma turns to the screen.
The video opens on the same couch but Emma can tell that he has invested in a better camera. Unlike his other videos he doesn't start playing right away. He smiles into the camera; all flashing teeth and sex appeal.
"This video is dedicated to Swan. Because they understand my true motivations" Emma is surprised at the distinctly British lilt to his voice. "I hope you like it." He winks and flashes another smile before beginning to strum his guitar.
"Emma! A hot, British dude just dedicated a song to you!' Anna bounces in her excitement. Emma can't stop herself from grinning back. Then he starts singing.
"I'm the next flight that you get on, international"
Emma feels her heart sink. The guitar continues to pick the familiar tune (it's one of Anna's favorite songs). She shakes her head in disgust at his sly, grinning face.
"First class seat on your lap…" Emma slams her laptop shut.
"Hey! I was watching that!" Anna protests.
"Anna that is a disgusting and degrading song."
"I love that song!. And he has a great voice and he is drop dead gorgeous." Anna reaches for the laptop but Emma pulls it away.
"Don't you get it? He picked that song to taunt me. It's not an apology at all!"
Elsa rolls her eyes. "Don't be so prickly Emma. I think it's clever."
Emma pushes herself off the couch with a huff and goes to the kitchen for some ice cream.
"What's wrong!" Mary Margaret asks as Emma yanks open the fridge.
"Nothing. Just a stupid, cocky, son of a bitch that happens to be able to sing." '
"Ok." Mary Margaret replies before exiting the kitchen; doing her best to avoid getting caught in the drama. Emma barely notices her mind is already churning, trying to come up with an appropriate revenge. She hears his rich voice floating from her laptop speakers. She hates the way it slides over the lyrics with a slight growl. Hates the way her foot almost starts to tap. When the chorus starts she grits her teeth.
"All I really need to understand is when you talk dirty to me."
-/\/\/\/\/\/\/\-
Authors Note: Hey look my first Modern AU! This was written for Tumblr's Captain Swan Secret Santa for BelovedCreation (she is over on Archive of Our Own and you should read her stuff! It's fantastic!) This should have two or three more chapters. So follow to see what happens!