Yep, it's been done about at least a hundred times. But someone asked me if I could write my take on this well used trope, and I just read the Neighbors from Hell series by R.L. Mathewson (it's awesome), so I couldn't resist.

I hope you enjoy. I had definitely a lot of fun writing this first chapter.

Disclaimer: The characters don't belong to me, just this story!

Chapter 1

She would kill him. She would just kill him.

She could find a way to get rid of his body later. Now she just needed to find the best way to make him suffer as much as possible.

"You're thinking about killing your neighbor again?"

Emma looked up and reached for the cocktail glass, taking a huge sip before she addressed her best friend.

"I swear to God, if I knew of a way to commit the perfect crime without getting caught I would do it."

"You know there is no such thing as the perfect crime," Mary Margaret told her, leaning back against the couch.

"I know," Emma sighed, slumping down on the couch beside her soon-to-be sister-in-law.

"You sound disappointed."

"I'm sure no one would really blame me if I'd rid the earth of this demon spawn."

"Demon spawn?" Ruby chuckled, looking up from painting her nails. "That's a new one. What did he do now?"

"He stole my newspaper again, after playing guitar until the wee hours of the morning." Emma would never admit that she actually loved hearing him play ... as long as it wasn't at three o'clock in the morning. "And then he had the audacity to park his car in front of mine. Again!"

"You didn't get him to move his car?" Mary Margaret asked with clear sympathy in her voice.

"Of course not," Emma huffed. "I swear he enjoys messing around with me. I mean ... he can't be that dumb to not realize that I can't get out of my parking spot when he parks directly in front of my rear bumper."

"Well, he is insanely hot," Ruby tossed in, furrowing her brows as she applied another coat of paint on her toes. "So there is that."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"You can always use him as a sex toy," Ruby elaborated, a huge grin spreading out on her face as she added, "Way better than your BOF if he knows what he is doing. And he looks like he knows."

"No, thank you," Emma hissed. "I wouldn't touch him if he was the last man on earth, and my vibrator had run out of batteries."

"It's a shame," Ruby sighed, "I bet he is huge."

"Oh my God," Emma growled, burying her face in Mary Margaret's shoulder. "A little help here."

"I don't know what you are talking about," Mary Margaret said. "I'm a married woman."

"Not yet."

"Anyways, I don't need any mechanical toys. David keeps me well satisfied without using one, but if we feel the need to venture into ..."

"Stop right there," Emma cried, not wanting to know anything about her brother's sex life. "This is definitely too much information."

"Maybe Ruby is right," Mary Margaret mused, cocking her head to the side. "He is extremely handsome after all."

"I thought you're well satisfied."

"Doesn't mean I'm blind," Mary Margaret shot back, taking a sip from her cocktail before she added, "I'm sure he doesn't need any toys in bed either to satisfy a woman."

"You're supposed to back me up here," Emma whined. "Instead you're telling me I should bang my neighbor from hell."

"You know, hate sex has its perks," Ruby said with a dreamy expression on her face.

"Teasing is a sign of affection, isn't it?"

"That's it. You're not my friends anymore. There is the door."

Ruby and Mary Margaret just rolled their eyes at each other and sipped at their cocktails, not showing the slightest inclinations that they would go anywhere anytime soon.

"At least someone needs to make me another cocktail," Emma grumbled, slurping the rest of her cocktail through the straw.

"How about you are asking your neighbor from hell if he can mix you something hot and juicy?"

"You need to get laid," Emma huffed. "Maybe you should bang him."

"Na, he is all yours." Ruby replied, and Emma turned her head towards Mary Margaret.

"Why are you looking at me?" Mary Margaret questioned with a raised eyebrow. "I'm happily almost married."

"We need to change the subject here. Immediately," Emma said and grabbed the remote. "Let's see what's on Netflix."

-/-

Enough was enough.

She had only slept two hours and it was her neighbor's fault, as usual. She had ignored the voice telling her that it wasn't her neighbor's fault when she had an insanely hot erotic dream about him that let her wake up with trembling limps and a racing heart, making it impossible for her to close her eyes again and go back to sleep.

She had gotten up as the alarm blared, bone-tired, every muscle in her body aching. The shower hadn't helped waking her up at all, her hair hadn't cooperated, and she had almost pierced her eye while applying mascara.

She had spent half an hour searching for her keys just to find them at the bottom of her bag, her coffee had become cold by the time she remembered it, and she had resigned herself to make a quick stop at Starbucks, because she couldn't function without her morning coffee, and then this.

His car was blocking hers again.

She swirled around and stomped back into the house, surprised that there was no steam coming out of her ears because she was burning with fury.

"Killian Jones, open that damn door!" She hammered her fist against the wood, yelling even louder, "Now!"

She heard movement from inside his apartment and prepared herself for dragging him to his car if she needed to, after she had ripped his head off. But the words died on her tongue as he opened the door with only a towel wrapped around his waist, droplets of water still clinging to his chest and his hair a rumbled mess.

Jesus Fucking Christ!

"Swan? To what do I owe the pleasure?"

She was quite certain that he put on the lilt extra hard for her. She had heard him talking to others, and his accent was never that thick. God, it was as if he knew how much his English accent affected her, and combined with these blue eyes, the chiseled jaw and this body ... and no ... she was not thinking about threading her fingers through his messy hair, and she was not thinking about how she just wanted to follow the trail of hair down his stomach with her lips, and she was not thinking about yanking the towel away and finding out if he was as packed as she feared he was.

"Like what you see?"

Jerk, she thought, trying desperately to shove the want into the deepest corner of her brain, hoping her body would stop aching for him if she could just stop thinking about how his scruff might feel scratching along her thighs.

"You know, you can always come in and we can indulge in some more enjoyable activities of the horizontal variety," he drawled, throwing her a cheeky grin. "My walls are also very sturdy. Wouldn't mind pressing you against one and make you scream my name, love."

She would kill him. She would just kill him.