#cs missing moment one shot

[snowbellewells]

CS Fic Rec Monday: "Privacy and Pancakes" by: @laschatzi

This week's first rec from me is a fun one shot by @laschatzi. This glimpse into CS happy domestic life (even if interrupted by overly enthusiastic family members) is just a joy to read. You get to see the two of them between battles, the bond the Charming-Swan-Jones family as a larger unit has established, humor, a bit of spice, and lots of sweetness. This feels like it could fit in anywhere in the late season six canon, almost like a missing moment, or into an alternate season seven where the action had remained in Storybrooke and we'd gotten to see a little more of what that married CS happy beginning had looked like. At any rate, it's a great one to bring a smile to your face, and definitely worth reading if you've missed it before now - or revisiting it if it's been a while.

I tried to create some cover art for it, so hopefully you'll enjoy that @laschatzi:

"Privacy and Pancakes" by: @laschatzi

[loafysainz]

the parent trap (remake) | CS 55

cast: carlos sainz x fem!reader

warn: 100% fiction & remake

next chap

Part 18 The Wine Memories

The blaring sound of a car horn echoed through the driveway, pulling Y/N away from whatever she had been doing. She rushed outside, her face lighting up as soon as she spotted the familiar car pulling in. Carlos was here—and with the kids.

"They’re back!" Y/N called out enthusiastically, practically skipping to the car. Her bright greeting was met with a chaotic mix of smiles and groans from the kids inside. " Hello? Your back so soon? Did you have fun?"

Mattia, sitting in the front seat, didn’t miss a beat. "We’ll be punished for a whole year," he said, deadpan, as he turned his head toward Y/N.

"Not a year," Carlos cut in, hauling a few bags from the backseat. "Just until today. Now, out of the car. All of you."

Y/N tilted her head, a mix of amusement and confusion on her face. "What?" she asked, before quickly scanning the car. Something—or rather someone—was missing. Her stomach sank slightly. "Where’s Meredith?"

Matheo, already halfway up the stairs with Mattia in tow, casually glanced over his shoulder. "Oh, we played a little prank on her, and... well, we think she down a little."

“little?” Carlos interrupted, incredulous.

Matheo chimed in, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. “Well, she might be a little upset.”

Y/N blinked, struggling to hold back a laugh as she watched Matheo walk away. Her parenting instincts told her she should probably look a little more concerned, but the corner of her lips betrayed her.

Carlos stared at them both, chuckle a bit. “A little upset?”

Carlos, now climbing the stairs with a handful of bags, glanced at Y/N and shook his head in disbelief. "Can you believe it?" He held up a small object in his hand—a ring. "She threw this at me! At least it’s smaller than the plant you once threw at my head."

Y/N immediately tried to look remorseful, but the smile tugging at her lips made it impossible to sell the act. "I’m sorry," she said, her tone light and playful. "This is totally my fault. If I hadn’t suggested she’d come—."

“Suggested?” Carlos cut in, eyebrows raised. “More like tricked.” he shot Y/N a knowing glance.

Y/N placed a hand on Carlos’s arm, an apologetic smile on her face. "Carlos, I’m really sorry."

Carlos opened his mouth to respond, but Mattia, from the top of the stairs, beat him to it. "Yeah, we feel that way too, sorry dad" he said with exaggerated guilt, his tone dripping with dramatics.

Carlos groaned. “Like mother, like son,” he mumbled, trying not to smile. “Go. Upstairs. Now.”

The twins didn’t argue. They bolted up the stairs, their laughter trailing behind them.

Carlos watched them go, leaning against the banister with a faint smile. “I really need to remember to thank them one day,” he muttered sarcastically.

*******

With a sigh, Carlos leaned against the balcony railing, looking out at the garden below. "Anyway," he started casually, "where’s Chessy? I’m starving."

Y/N joined him at the railing, mirroring his relaxed posture. "Oh, Chessy and Martin? They went out for a picnic yesterday."

Carlos blinked, turning his head slowly to give Y/N a look. "Since yesterday?"

Y/N nodded, biting back a laugh.

Carlos shook his head, his voice dripping with disbelief. "Who would’ve thought? Chessy and Martin... together. What a couple." He let out a small laugh, his mind clearly wandering for a moment.

"So," Y/N said, turning to Carlos. "What do you want to eat?"

Carlos shrugged, his expression casual. "I don’t know... got anything on your mind?"

Y/N rubbing her hair, thinking. "Well, I know how to make pasta."

Carlos grinned. "Pasta sounds amazing."

Y/N perked up at the praise, her face breaking into an easy smile. "Alright, pasta it is."

****

Carlos opens his twin rooms, Matheo, tilted his head as he tried to hide a grin. “Hey, Dad. Wow you look nice today. Are you going somewhere?” he asked, testing the waters.

Mattia, cast a quick glance at his father. His lips twitched with amusement as he exchanged a knowing look with his twin brother.

Carlos, ever the composed figure, merely smiled as he closed the door behind him. “Sleep well boys,” he said, his tone as calm as the evening breeze. He left no room for questions, only a parting warmth that lingered in the air.

The boys high-fived as soon as he was out of sight, their silent celebration proof that everything was going according to plan.

Meanwhile, Carlos led Y/N into the heart of his winery, the space exuding warmth and history. “Welcome to my little sanctuary,” he announced, his voice carrying a blend of pride and excitement.

Y/N’s eyes widened as she took in the rows upon rows of meticulously arranged wine bottles. The sheer variety and care put into the display left her momentarily speechless. “This is… beautiful,” she said softly, her voice almost reverent. “It feels warms.”

Carlos’s smile, his pride evident. “Thanks. This place took me quite a while to build,” he admitted, a hint of nostalgia creeping into his tone. Y/N nodded, her gaze flitting from bottle to bottle, each label carrying a story she longed to uncover. “You must have so many memories here.”

“Want to see my favorite?” Carlos asked, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Y/N returned the smile, intrigued. “It would be a pleasure, Carlos.”

They walked through the cellar, Y/N trailing slightly behind as she admired the collection. Some bottles were dusted with age, others gleamed with a recent polish. The air was thick with the scent of oak barrels and the faintest hint of fermented grapes.

“Ah wait, look at this one,” Carlos said, stopping to retrieve a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon. He held it up with a gentle reverence. “This was one of the first wines we ever produced. It’s a piece of history.”

Y/N’s lips curved into a soft smile. “You must have been so proud when it all came together.”

“More than proud,” Carlos replied, placing the bottle back on the shelf with care. “It was a dream come true.”

They moved further down the aisle until Y/N stopped, pointing at a bottle of Chardonnay. “What about this one?”

Carlos chuckled, a warm, hearty sound. “Ah, that’s my families favorites. Once we drank an entire bottle at Matheo’s birthday party.”

Y/N laughed along but felt a pang in her chest. The mention of Matheo brought back bittersweet memories. She had missed so much of her son’s childhood. Despite her efforts, the divide between them often felt insurmountable.

“Come on, there’s one more I want to show you,” Carlos said, his voice pulling Y/N back to the present. He led them to a quieter section of the cellar, where the bottles seemed to glow faintly under the dim lighting.

“This is where I keep my private stash,” Carlos said proudly, gesturing to the bottles neatly arranged like soldiers in formation.

Y/N smirked. “Meaty?”

Carlos shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a man of limited interest.” But there was a glimmer of humor behind his words.

“Y/N.” Carlos carefully pulled out a bottle, holding it as if it were a delicate treasure. Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as she recognized it immediately.

“It’s the wine from our wedding,” Carlos said softly. “Your favorite ever since.”

The words hung in the air like an unspoken confession. Y/N’s gaze flicked between the bottle and Carlos. She struggled to find the right words, her throat tightening. “You still have it?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Carlos nodded, his eyes never leaving Y/N. “I remember every moment of our life together. Sometimes, I come down here, open a bottle, and let the memories wash over me.”

Y/N felt his composure slipping. She blinked rapidly, trying to push back the tears that threatened to spill. “I… I remember those moments too,” she admitted, her voice cracking.

Carlos stepped closer, the space between them shrinking. “We could have a drink together. Right now,” he offered gently.

The moment felt too tender, too much for her to process. She turned away slightly, blinking. “You okay?” he asked, watching her carefully.

Y/N smiled, but it was tinged with sadness. She looked down, a single tear escaping despite her efforts. She wiped it away quickly, pretending it was nothing. “Yeah, I’m fine. Really. It’s just the wine cellar… it’s dusty,” she said with a forced chuckle.

Carlos wasn’t convinced. “Y/N, you don’t always have to be so strong. Not with me.”

Y/N shook her head, her voice barely steady. “What would I do, actually?”

The air between them was thick with unspoken emotions. They stood close enough to feel each other’s breath, their gazes locked in a moment that felt both eternal and fleeting.

But before anything could be said or done, the glare of headlights spilled into the cellar. A car door slammed, breaking the spell.

“That must be Chessy,” Y/N murmured, stepping back as if the light had snapped her out of a dream.

Carlos nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. “She has keys to the house.”

Y/N turned away, wiping at her face one last time before heading toward the exit. “Is anybody home?” Chessy’s voice called out from outside.

Carlos watched Y/N’s retreating figure, a mix of regret and longing etched across his face. “Yes, we’re coming up,” she finally replied, his voice carrying up the stairs.

As the sound of footsteps faded, Carlos looked down at the bottle in his hands. With a heavy sigh, he returned it to its place on the shelf, leaving behind more than just the wine.

prev chap

omg tomorrow is the ending guysssss 😭😭 tbh I want to post the ending today but I need the revise it, I feel like I'm still not fully satisfied with the result. So, I post this one first instead—hope you all like it! Thank you so much guyss for the wait 🤍

[wildemaven]

because you matter | jack abbot

summary - this takes place a year prior to Chasing Stillness, during the aftermath of PittFest pairing - jack abbot x ofc!alix miller, rn word content- 2986 content warning - 18+ blog; jack’s POV, lots of medical inaccuracies because I don’t have time for medical school, angst, blood, somewhat canon divergent, PittFest shooting, mentions of wounds and gunshots, jack in his thoughts and maybe realizing feelings, Alix :39, lighter skin tone, has an a good amount of tattoos covering her body, has shorter hair that’s long enough to be pulled back, wearing a tank top and shorts:, mention of alcohol/drunkness/hangover, established friendship, slow burn, no use of y/n, use of ‘you’, please let me know if I failed to mention something a/n : the way I planned for this to be just a little blip of a flashback and some how it’s pushing almost 3k words. Guess I got carried away but really wanted to set the tone of Jack’s POV to pair with Chasing Stillness and then have everything in place for the next installment which jumps back to the present immediately following CS. I’m hoping I did him some sort of justice in writing this. BIG thank you to @alikelyst0ry for continuing to listen and talk me through this— I heart you!! Ok, time to post and run!! Previous | Next | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Jack’s not sure why he called you first. Scratch that— he does, he just can’t quite explain it. 

It was instinct— pure reflex. Zero hesitation. His thumb hitting your name the second he threw the truck in drive.

Call it a hunch or call it years of making snap decisions under the weight of an ingrained oath that had Jack tearing down the road toward the hospital. Instinctively knowing Robby would be requesting all hands on deck at any moment. 

In the back of his mind, he knew the urgency wasn’t only about the scene unfolding on the other side of the city— it was also about reaching you. And whether or not that same charge of criticality was surging through your veins. 

Straight to voicemail.

“Hey, it’s Alix. Sorry I missed your call. Tragic, I know. Leave a message.” Your voice echoes through the truck’s speakers, cheerful and maddeningly casual.

“Shit!” He muttered, slamming his palm against the wheel, taking the last turn harder than he should’ve, while the wail of sirens vibrated through the air.

The scanner had lit up just after 5:30. One second he was finishing yard work, leaves disposed of in the green waste bin, lawn trimmed to his liking, sweat sticking to his back as the sun finally dipped behind the house. The next— everything shifting into unknown bedlam. 

He'd been looking forward to the break. Get a start on some projects he’d been wanting to start before the end of the year. A few days to recharge and relax— to a little bit of peace.

Peace wasn’t in the cards today.

“Multiple victims. Shots fired. PittFest grounds. Officers on scene. Casualties unknown.”

Jack’s stomach dropped as the second dispatch even came through. 

Pulling his truck into his usual spot and throwing it in park, he decided to send you a text:

Jack: Call me when you get this. I’m just getting to the hospital. Looks bad. Get in touch with me when you can. 

Before his mind could spiral into worst-case scenarios, his boots were on the ground and his go-bag packed with essentials slung over his shoulder. Jack pauses halfway through the short walk from the parking garage to the main building, eyes lifting to the familiar railing— the one that so often bears the weight of his early morning musing. He braces himself for whatever waits behind the ED doors.

As Jack reaches the Pitt, his stomach knots up as the scene hits him. It’s a blur of chaos— bright lights glaring off white walls and tiled floor, sterile disarray, the entire emergency room cracked wide like a fresh wound. Robby’s at the forefront of it all with his face twisted with raw emotion, giving orders like his life depends on it— a dense cloud of stress trailing behind him. 

Nurses converged. Gurneys locked into place, ready for impact.

The cacophony of it all did little to drown out his last conversation with you. All he could hear was your voice, light and hopeful, as you talked about your day off and what you’d do with it.

I’m off tomorrow. Finally. A few of us are hitting PittFest for funnel cake and sunburns. Maybe a little hangover, if I’m feeling lucky. 

Alix.

Jack’s fingers fumbled unlocking his phone to get to your number. One ring. Two. Voicemail. End call. He slides his phone into his pocket, clinging to the hope that you’d walk through those doors under your own power, not be wheeled in.

“Brother, I am so glad to see you” Robby says, relieved as ever, pulling Jack in for a hug. 

“Heard it on the police scanner. How many we expecting?” Jack keeps his tone even and controlled, like the soldier he is. He scans the ER, eyes sharp for that familiar blurry mess of brown hair and tattooed arms, always busy—  on the off chance you might have bailed on the festivities early and came when you got the news.

“I don’t know. But it doesn’t sound good.”

Taking Robby’s lead, Jack jumps into action. Doing his best to compartmentalize his worry, shelving it next to the many other things that afflict him relentlessly, focusing on what he can control at this moment as he helps guide giant black disaster bins filled with supplies into the Behavioral Health Room. 

“Right side. Left side.” Jack says as he wheels the black cart in place. “I’m going to need you to grab the folding tables from the facilities to organize all this stuff. Go— Thank you!”

The nurses head off to carry out his orders, leaving Jack alone with the task of getting things stationed and ready. He reaches into his pocket for his knife, pulling his phone out along with it. Swiping up, he hits the call button— not really expecting an answer. But when your voicemail comes on again, he sighs and leaves a message anyway.

“It’s Abbot. Umm— Haven't heard from you yet. Just checking that things are okay.” Jack sighs, pausing as he glances around the small room, absentmindedly turning the blade in his hand as an announcement booms through the emergency floor— Code Triage, Emergency Department now. “It looks like things are going to get hectic here in a bit. Just let me know when you’re safe, alright?”

He ends the call and slips the phone back into his pocket. Determined to not let his deliberate facade slip away as the knife slices cleanly through the plastic tie, granting access to the pharmacy and IV supplies. 

In the quiet that follows, he selfishly wishes you were across the room mirroring his purposeful pace— already knowing where his head was, already moving like you always do.

The air became thick with anticipation. 

A muted pressure settling into every corner. 

Around the Hub, attendings, residents, interns, and nurses stood in quiet readiness— PPE isolation gowns secured, gloved hands resting at their sides and trauma carts fully stocked. 

The overhead lights buzz faintly, a phone ringing somewhere down the hall, a gurney wheel clicks in slow, uneven bursts. It’s the calm before the storm— every face around the room marked by focus, tension and the unspoken hope that when it begins, they’ll be ready. 

Robby and Jack stand at the center of it all, bracing them for the first wave.

It’s not long before the incoming patients are packed like sardines in every available room and usable open space. Triaged based on vitals, severity of injuries and overall viability, then color catalogued and moved to the appropriate zone to be treated accordingly. 

Red. Pink. Yellow. Green. Black and White. 

They kept coming as Jack navigated through his red patients needing immediate attention. Panicked and bloodied with their PittFest passes still clinging to them— stark reminders that their day was supposed to be filled with excitement and memories. One after another. 

The emergency room bore the resemblance of a mobile army surgical hospital that had operated under his command. No time to rely on charting, electronic medical records or the convenience of a patient board. Treatment and procedures documented by hand on wrist charts attached to patients' wrists. Time was limited, and every second could mean the difference between life and death. 

Jack moved on muscle memory. His hands worked steadily and voice calm, but beneath the surface Jack was burning through adrenaline. It was a rare instance for the hospital to be at full capacity, which only heightened the desire for precise performance, but he thrives in these circumstances. 

Working alongside Mohan, placing IO infusions and chest tubes with precision, while refusing to let showdowns and egos pull him under. 

Thready pulses beneath his fingertips, collapsed lungs begging for air, slinging Foley catheters to subdue nicked carotids— one after another. He forced himself to stay present, to shut out the noise and stabilize, just move— long enough to get them to the OR or ICU then hope any and all split decisions were enough.

The lull, though temporary, was almost disorienting. 

Machines quieted. Footsteps softened. The air no longer crackling with immediate crisis.

With the last of the critical patients having been stabilized or moved upstairs, Jack found himself in an unexpected pocket of repose leaning his forearm against the edge of the nurses’ station, the adrenaline that had kept him sharp for hours now ebbing into a dull, bone-deep fatigue

It wasn’t rest exactly, finding it too unexpected to recognize it at first. The stillness too sharp, too sudden— but it was enough. A pause. A breath. A chance to feel the weight of what the day had taken, to really feel the ache in his shoulders.

He reached for a coffee someone had abandoned hours ago. Sniffed it and grimaced. Still, he took a sip. Cold, but it would do. 

A voice broke over the intercom, barely audible. Not urgent. Not for him.

He let himself enjoy this illusion of stagnation. 

Poached coffee in hand, Jack closed his eyes for a moment, drawing in a breath as if it might anchor him. One. Two. Three. Then releasing it quietly, like he was trying not to wake something inside him.

A flicker of you crossed his mind— Alix. Just enough to stir something beneath the surface. 

Jack grabbed his phone from his pocket, pulling up the text thread shared between the two of you. His last message sat in the little bubble at the bottom of the screen. Delivered. Not read. 

It had been hours since he last checked his phone or tried calling. Still nothing. Not a word. No hint of where you were or if you were okay. 

His thumb drags slowly down the screen, revealing the previous message he’d received two days ago from you. 

It’s a photo. Both of you in 12-hour worn scrubs after a long shift. Your eyes are somehow the only bright and captivating part of the photo. They’re crinkled up around the edges due to the way your cheeks are cradling— the picture taken mid-laugh. 

He almost regrets his choice of affection as he analyzes the image further. Arms crossed securely in front of him. Stiff and stoic. No warning or prompting from Dana before she decided to freeze that moment forever. 

You’re standing behind him, peeking out over the broad line of his shoulders. Your arms draped him, fingers tugging the corners of his mouth in an upward fashion. The act of holding that position and Dana frantically trying to capture it candidly had you laughing so hard tears were rolling down your face. 

There was something deeply comforting in the unmistakable joy of your laugh— rich, unguarded and effortlessly you. It was a sound he realized he could never grow tired of hearing.

The photo was taken months ago, but you sent it out of the blue not even 48 hours ago. Along with a caption that said: You should do this more often! 

Jack is unaware of the smile that he’s wearing as his eyes oscillate between your words and the photo. 

“You should tell her!” Robby exclaims, his voice laced with a knowing that needs no explanation. He gives Jack a friendly smack on the shoulder, one that promises a talk over beers, and walks off towards the ambulance bay without bothering to elaborate.

“W-what?!” Jack’s head nearly spins, tracking Robby’s exit with pinched confusion. 

“Tell her!” Robby calls over his shoulder just before disappearing from view. “Pretty sure she’d be into it!”

He glances down at the photo again, his attention fixed entirely on you. His thoughts drift, Robby’s voice ringing in his ears, chasing that sweet ache of a hope he barely dares to name— that you might be into it… into him.

“Jack!” Robby’s voice swells, sharp and sudden— shattering the haze of Jack’s thoughts and dragging him back to the hub of the emergency department where shouting emerges from the ambulance entrance doors. 

It takes a minute for Jack to realize what exactly is unfolding in front of him. 

There you are on the gurney. 

Alix. 

Not lying down, but straddling a teenage girl’s chest doing compressions. Your face is pale, drawn tight with unrelenting focus. Jack can see the tremble in your arms and the raw determination in your eyes. Your hair has fallen loose from its clip, strands plastered to your forehead with a mixture of sweat and blood. 

Blood. 

Blood was everywhere. 

Jack’s heart was slamming against his ribs like it was trying to claw its way out.

“Seventeen-year-old female. GWS left chest. She was barely responsive when we loaded her in the truck. Carotid was weak. Became unresponsive en route. Been administering chest compressions for— Um… Five… no, ten minutes maybe. I don’t know.” 

The words fall from your mouth between staggered breaths, your body shuddering with every measured compression against the young woman’s chest.

Jack stands frozen, the scene shaking something loose in him. 

“Miller, we’re going to take over now.” Robby squeezes your arm gently, attempting to get your attention. “Alix— I need you to let us take over.”

You nod, “Yeah— y-yeah, okay.” 

Robby lifts you to your feet, his grip steady as he guides you to the side. Jack watches from across the room as you stand there shoulders heaving and eyes locked on the team taking over where you left off. 

You look like you’re still in the fight, even though your hands have let go they still hover out in front of you, slightly trembling. The weight of it all pressing down on you. The agonizing feeling of giving everything and still having to step back. 

Jack watches as you rush towards the nearest wall, some sort of resolve snapping you back from your reflection, you grab a pair of gloves and scan the trauma bay— already locking back into motion. 

Before you could disappear from his sight, Jack reaches for you, causing a startled gasp to rip from your throat. 

“Easy— easy, it’s me. It’s just me.” Jack says softly, his hands on your shoulders, grounding you the best he can. 

The moment your eyes find him, he sees it— how something in you softens, just a little. The panic loosens its hold and you let out a shaky breath, like your body is finally remembering how to breathe.

Jack’s hand slides up the curve of your neck without much thought— like a natural response. One he wasn’t going to put much thought into at the moment, so he pushed the thought aside. Your safety being his priority. 

“I’m okay.” 

You’ve barely finished your reassurance when he sees it— feels it. More closely now. Almost silky to the touch. 

A deep crimson hue. 

His eyes begin to track over you.

Blood down the front of your white tank top and denim shorts, soaking the fabrics with its complex essence. The tattoos on your arms and legs, once shades of black and grey, now obscured in streaks of red. 

“Jesus—“ Jack breathes. 

He doesn’t hesitate. His mind clicks into gear, calling on every moment he’s spent keeping people alive— years of training and triage taking over.

Assess. Locate. Control bleed. 

His hands were already moving. Scanning your limbs, searching gently but urgently for the source. Brushing aside fabric and blood with the practiced earnestness of someone who’s done this too many times— only this time, it’s you.

“Where are you hit?” His asks, his tone tense and thick. 

“I’m not— I’m not shot. It’s not mine.” Your voice cracks just a little. You grip his forearms, poised and insistent. “It’s Leah’s.”

Jack paused. Staring at you, still holding onto you as if you would disappear if he let go, not quite believing it until he saw the steadiness in your eyes. Not fine— but functioning. Survival mode.

You pulled in a breath. 

“I’d already left the scene before the shots started. Jess had way too much to drink— plus with the heat, she was out of it. We were taking her home.”

Your voice catches. The tears falling fast, unrelenting as they resaturate the bits of dried blood smeared across your cheeks. 

“But then I couldn’t leave. I couldn’t leave people behind— to- to die. It was by chance that I found Jake and Leah. But I don’t think it was enough. I should have done more—  for her. S-she’s not going to make it.”

Jack swallowed. “You did good. You did so fucking good.” His hands dropped slowly, like they didn’t want to.

You gave him a weary half-nod, not entirely convinced. 

It hit him then, intense and sudden. Jack cared more than he’d let himself admit. Not just as a colleague. Not as a friend. Something deeper. 

But he couldn’t say it— not now, in this place. Not with blood drying on your arms and grief still lingering in the air. If he said the wrong thing, if what he felt wasn’t reciprocated, he might lose you entirely.

He wanted to say something—I was scared for you. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I care more than I should—but all that came out was:

“You need a break.”

You half-smiled at him, tired but grateful. “I’ll sit when it’s over.”

“It is over.” His voice was softer now, just for you. “At least the worst part. You’re running on adrenaline, but that’s going to wear off. The shock’ll hit soon and you to need to be ready for it.”

He paused, head tilted and gaze on you unfaltering. 

“Take a minute. Get cleaned up, grab some scrubs, and crash in one of the on-call rooms— just rest. When things settle down, I’ll take you home.”

“Why?” You murmured, brows raised with curiosity as to why he would afford such an offer. 

Jack didn’t answer right away. 

He just held your eyes for a second too long. Then he shook his head slightly, giving you a ghost of a smile and said:

“Because you matter.”

[itssoinevitable]

No idea where to put this but I’ve been giving the Audrey x Siegfried progression more thought. And tbh I am now quite convinced that we are unlikely to see any actual evolution of their relationship in canon — until near or at the very end of the show.

Bc I think the story some / all of us thought the show writers were telling vs the story they’re actually telling is actually quite different. The story that I, at least, thought they were telling, was that Audrey and Siegfried were becoming progressively more ready and getting to the point to eventually admit their feelings to one another. It seemed intentional especially in S4, and appeared to be escalating toward a realisation or admission of some kind. The tension, the jealousy, the pining etc. It was all so palpable and truly delicious, and felt like it was simmering to a boiling point.

Come season 5 however, that all came to a weird and screeching halt with the introduction of Miss Grantley. (Though to be fair, most of season 5 felt weird and quite off kilter.) The heat had suddenly dialled back to a warmish camaraderie at best, and tepid at its lowest points of the season. But Siegfried pining over this random woman he met felt even more jarring compared to Miss Harbottle or Diana or anyone else before, mostly bc it didn’t seem to align with this progression we thought was building toward the AxS endgame. It seemed so clearly against his feelings (which we thought he’d already woken up to) for Audrey, and therefore felt completely wrong and out of place. (This is the same man who looked like he was about to die at the thought of her leaving to marry Gerald, correct? The same man who toasted her before Jesus in the S4 CS right??)

So anyway, after much deliberation and thought about these two fictional characters, and in light of the PBS version of the episodes having aired now, I have come to a new conclusion. I now believe that the writers are not actually intending to write the AxS in a linear fashion at all, nor are they slowly getting them together in a glacial manner in the way we thought. I suspect they will eventually get together, but unfortunately I don’t know how much of that will be developed on screen. More likely, it’s going to happen close to or at the end of the whole series. And until then, I think they’re using AxS essentially as a kind of straight-baiting, for lack of better word choice. Because the writers obviously know fans ship it, and they play into the romance, but I’m no longer convinced that they have any intention to do anything except dangle the carrot in front of us.

To be clear, I’m not suggesting that AxS haven’t progressed throughout the series. They’ve definitely come a long way, both as individuals and as a partnership over the years. Their deep and special bond has been possibly the most integral part to all these other positive changes in their lives. They are one another’s life rings in every storm, no two ways about it. The parallels with the actual married couple in the show are not accidental, after all. But as for a tangible, said out-loud confirmation of mutual romantic feelings? An actual kiss under the mistletoe? Or even the use of first names?? I’m sad to say, it doesn’t seem likely any time soon. (And I’d never be happier than to be wrong).

However, going forward into season 6, I suspect that we may get a few intimate / romantic scenes like we did in S5, and if we’re lucky, another handhold. We may even get a few jealousy scenes if either of them have other short-term love interests, which of course will not last. And we will definitely have sweet co-parenting moments, and lots of framed shots where the average viewer will be convinced they’re married. But suffice to say, it feels like a stalemate, for the foreseeable future.

And it does actually explain a lot of things. It explains why there are always minor love interests introduced for Siegfried, every season. And it explains why Audrey and Siegfried have not hugged, (or danced or kissed) nor moved onto a first name basis. It explains why Audrey has not had her own realisation moment yet, about her own feelings toward Siegfried. It explains why even though they are both finally single and emotionally available, they have not wound up in each others’ arms. Because those things would be linear, and that’s apparently not the story the writers want to tell. And unless there’s a definite shift in Season 6, I think this will-they-won’t-they dynamic will remain for as long as they can stretch it out.

All that being said, the point of this post isn’t to be a negative naysayer, I promise. I will be very very relieved to be wrong in all these predictions, and will happily eat my words. It’s definitely disappointing of , because what felt so intentional and well developed and had been so beautifully delivered by the actors, now feels a bit like a trick. I admit I feel a little duped, though it may well be (at least partly) self-inflicted. But even if we may not love the route they’re taking to get there, I am still at least, 100% certain that Audrey and Siegfried are going to be the final destination.

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Christmas Reruns 2024–Day 12: The Yuletide Challenge (2/3)

Merry Christmas if you celebrate it and happy holidays if you don’t!  One of the things I love about Christmas is watching reruns of all the old classic Christmas movies–Christmas is a big time for nostalgia.  A few years ago, I decided to incorporate that tradition into my fandom life and post my CS holiday reruns.  So here you go!  Enough holiday (mostly) fluff to get you to New Year’s Day. (With a new story posting on Christmas Day.)

Word Count: 1455

Other chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Killian watched the gorgeous blonde walk away from him, her strides purposeful and decisive.  He grinned to himself as he finished his last shot, settled his tab and headed back to his lonely apartment.  When he’d left home that night, he’d hoped merely for enough rum to dull the ever-present pain and loneliness this time of year inevitably brought ever since it had happened. 

What he’d gotten instead was a lifeline.  Emma Swan may have believed she was (rather unwillingly if he didn’t miss his guess) fulfilling the requirements of her sister-in-law’s holiday project, but in a lot of ways, she’d been his savior on this cold winter’s night.

Five years past in early December, Killian’s whole world had crashed around him.  He’d had his share of pain and heartache throughout his childhood—his mother dying when he was barely old enough to remember her, his father running off and leaving him and Liam—but he also had joy.  He and Liam had been inseparable since the loss of their parents.  Liam had been the best brother any lad could ever hope to have—as much a surrogate father as a brother.

Then six years ago, he’d met the woman he believed to be the love of his life—Milah.  They’d had a quick whirlwind of a romance, and just before that fateful day of the accident, Killian had made up his mind to propose.

It was supposed to be a magical night.  Liam was in town for the weekend, and the plan was for the brothers and Milah to purchase a Christmas tree and decorate Killian’s apartment.  Only they never made it to the Christmas tree farm.  A drunk driver had hit them head on, killing Liam and Milah instantly and crushing his hand so badly it couldn’t be saved.

Killian took a deep breath as he opened the door to his bare, cheerless apartment.  It wouldn’t do to dwell on those painful memories any longer.  There was no going back, no changing what had happened.

Instead, he focused on long, silky blonde hair, jaded green eyes, and luscious legs shown to their full effect thanks to a short dress and high heels.  Emma Swan was quite possibly the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, but there was more to the instant attraction he felt toward her than merely her beauty.  There was a pain and brokenness about her that called out to him.  A lost boy could, after all, recognize a lost girl.

Swan may very well plan to save him from holiday blues, but he sensed he may be able to perform the same service to her.  Perhaps while she worked to bring him Yuletide cheer, he could work to knit together the pieces of her broken heart.

For the first time in five years, Killian was actually looking forward to the holiday season.

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

Emma sat staring at her cell phone for long moments.  She’d gotten as far as unlocking the thing and typing in Killian’s number before she froze.  Why was this so difficult?  Killian was just some stranger in a bar she had to do 3 more good deeds for, that was it.

It wasn’t like she felt any kind of connection to this guy.  It wasn’t like she was considering a relationship or something with him.  He was just a hot guy she had to do nice things for.  That was it.

So why was her instinct to run going into overdrive?

Emma growled, calling herself every kind of idiot she could think of.  Just get it over with, Emma.  She’d do her stupid good deeds, and then Killian “Hook” Jones would be in her rearview mirror.

After another deep, cleansing breath, Emma pressed the dial button and then held her breath until she heard his deep, sexy “Aye”.

“Hey, yeah, it’s Emma,” she said quickly before she could talk herself out of it.  “You know, from the bar?  The one taking the Yuletide challenge?”

His low chuckle did things to her.  Things that were most definitely not PG rated.

“I assure you, darling, there’s no chance I would forget you.”

“Yeah, whatever, Romeo,” she said dryly.

He laughed again, and Emma found her lips ticking up at the sound in spite of herself.  “So, I figure I need to cross another good deed off my list, since it’s nearly the end of the second week of December.  So what nice thing do you want me to do for you?”

“Well….” he said, drawing the word out in a way that made her heart race.

“What purely platonic thing do you want me to do for you?” she amended hastily.

He laughed again.  That sound really should be banned.  But after a beat of silence, he seemed to sober.  “There is one thing, I feel I really should do, and having someone to help truly would be a kindness.”

“Yeah?  What’s that?”

“I…I need to put up a tree, decorate the apartment,” he said, a strange hesitancy in his voice.

“It’s December 15, and you haven’t put your Christmas tree up?!” she asked, incredulous.

There was silence on the other end of the phone for a beat…then another.  When Killian finally answered, there was a heaviness in his voice Emma didn’t understand.  “I’ve…not been able to face the prospect of Christmas, and particularly decorating, for some time now.”

He was in pain, Emma could hear that clearly in his voice.  “Look, if it’s too painful or whatever, we don’t have to…”

“No, Swan, it’s quite alright,” Killian said.  “I think perhaps it’s time I attempt to put the past behind me and find joy again in the season.”

“Well if you’re sure…”

“I am,” he said decisively.  “Meet me at Granny’s tomorrow and we can make arrangements.”

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

Killian took a step back and looked up at the tree.  Twinkling lights, colorful ornaments, a star at the top, it was gorgeous.  “I think we did rather well for ourselves, Swan, if I do say so myself.”

“Hey, when I put my mind to something, I’m all in,” she said, surveying their handiwork.

“So I’ve noticed,” he said with a grin.  “I’ve never seen someone pursue a Christmas tree with quite that much zeal.  I do believe the Christmas tree farmer is still quaking in his boots.”

Emma laughed, the sound washing over him like a warm blanket on a cold night.  “What can I say?” she asked.  “The price the guy was asking for this stupid tree was highway robbery.  What kind of a good deed doer would I be if I let him soak you like that?”

“My wallet thanks, you, love.”

She grinned back at him, and his heart turned over.  She must have seen something in his eyes, because she immediately withdrew into herself.

“Well, anyway…” she said awkwardly.  “Good deed number 2 crossed off the list, right?”

He wanted to ask her to stay, ask her to have dinner with him, find some pretense, any pretense to remain in her presence, but he knew her.  Already, after only one afternoon and a few minutes in a bar, he could read her like an open book.  A serious declaration of his blossoming feelings for her would do nothing but make her run.  Far better to fall back on his tried and true innuendo instead.

“I’m afraid I can’t agree to that, Swan,” he said with an exaggerated wounded look.

She grinned, placing one hand on a shapely hip.  “Yeah?  Why’s that?”

“Quite simply because the decorating is not at an end,” he said.  “I’ve yet to hang the sprig of mistletoe I obtained at the farm.  I rather think it’s only good form of you to stay as I hang it, and then help me…christen it.”

She laughed, the joyous sound bringing a genuine smile to his face.  “Killian, you just never stop, do you?”

He shook his head.  “Why should I stop when my nonsense brings such joy to your face, love?”

She dropped her eyes, took a small step back, and Killian worried he’d put a bit too much genuine emotion into that last question.  “Swan…I’m sorry; I didn’t mean…”

She looked up at him, the smile on her face forced, unnatural.  “It’s fine.  Look, I’ve got to get going.  I’ll, um, talk to you later for the last couple of good deeds.”

Killian sighed as the door closed behind her.  Tonight hadn’t ended as he’d hoped, but as she said, there were still two good deeds left.  Two more opportunities to convince Emma Swan to take a chance on the feelings obviously brewing between the two of them.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

NEXT CHAPTER->

[garbage--account]

Winner of the Poll #2 : the "fever dream":

Y'all, i'm on time 😭💣💥

Intro :

So yeah.... For those who just arrived, this is a serie of posts where i disclose my crazy-ass imaginary scenarios about VROH (which is not released yet) and you can vote for the next one at the end of the post. Each poll lasts 3 days.

Now this is the winner of the 2nd poll, called "the fever dream". Thank to the 9 voters <3

For context, i am not an author, i use my smartphone and english is not my primary language. I do essentially aesthetic shitposts.

Enjoy ~

Summary :

Soccer club ? Check.

11 players ? Check.

Coach ? Check.

Scheduled match ? Check.

Training regiment ? Check.

Now where the fuck is soccer ?!

Inspos :

Not gonna lie, it's mostly the first episode of CS (minus the time travelling). Also, Tenma refering soccer as a person.

Disclaimers :

"Y'all, i don't know what to say, 'cause my lips pop."

Plot :

So basically, it's before the qualifications finals and da team is trying preparing

And for once, preparations were going great : they knew who they were going to play against, collected datas easily on them, they looked easy to counter, this will be school holiday and everyone of da team is available for intensive training in that period

Also, Da team is looking great at this point : no death threat to disband the club, it has all the players, 2 ace strikers, a correct goalie, good defence, good synergy, a store of hissatsus and tactics in stock, and no current drama yet

That's basically what Unmei says to him as he reviews the current situation before going to school

His way to school is exactly how your parents & grandparents told you it was back then : "we had to walk 2782636 kilometers on foot in the jungle and fight lions on the way without food and lunch" ahh moment

But no one believes him when he tells his crazy shenanigans on his way to school, so today Sakurazaki and Kisoji decided to accompagny him

On their way, they encounter members of their crazy-ass school's cult they didn't know existed (it's a whole another imaginary scenario 😭) blocking and asking them if they'd join

Hopefully, a random religious procession appears and da Trio decides to tag along to avoid the other group

But since they wouldn't stop following them, Da Trio had to go all the way with the procession to the hidden temple in the mountain and skip school

While they're here, they interact with a monk explaining them he had been watching them for a while and that what they're doing make sakka cry

The monk also offer them cookies and let them play with his doggos 🥰

Anyway...back at home

Unmei goes in his room, logs on his computer and starts working on tactics and training regiment for the next match

Except he can't because the datas have dissapeared

Mental_breakdown.mp3

Calls his teammates to retrieve potential copies of it

No one has them : mental_breakdown_the_sequel.mp3

"It's okay, because i have good memory and will recall everything in the morning and we will be able to train"

The next morning, Unmei can't remember shit

In fact, no one in da Team remembers what is the name of their opponents

Anyway, training arc

Except they can't because there is no soccer ball in the soccer club

They buy some at the sport store

Back at the soccer field, they can finally train

Raika and Sakurazaki tried their combined hissatsu but missed big time, leaving Shisendo to catch the oxygen instead. The ball they shooted was never found again

Second attempt, but sakka ball turned into sewer gate so they stopped in the middle of the hissatsu

The third ball poped, the fourth turned into live doves, the fifth into Dove soap, and on and on until the last one

Shisendo was asked to go back into the goalpost, but it has vanished

Nevermind, they shoot their shot, but instead of landing on the soccer field, everyone was teleported in the middle of the ocean

Hopefully, they have been rescued by one of their municipal elected officials on his boat passing by on his way to Inakuni

Asuto asks them how they ended up here, they explain that they were trying a hissatsu on Nagumohara's ground and this happened

"Oh, so the soccer club there has been re-opened since the incident 5 years ago" and this confuses da team since it made crazy noises in town when they did, how can he not know?

Anyway, back on the school ground, they tryna talk about it with their bonita teacher/coach but she has no idea what they are talking about since they are a tennis club and that sakka is forbidden inside school's vicinity

Cry_in_Sakurazaki's_backstory.mp4

They tried to call the Football Frontier's office but Da Team is unknown to them

Kisoji suddenly remembers the weird monk "maybe he can help us ?"

So they go back to the mountain temple and ask for that monk (one of the dogs has bitten Yagyuu's ass)

The monk told them he already warned them they were displeasing soccer so now soccer is ghosting them

The remedy is : they have to play soccer against soccer

"Okayyyy? How are we supposed to do that?" "What do you mean how you do that ? Apologize to soccer!"

The next day, they are going to Shinohara's house for a sleepover, because she has everything they need to make apology banner, 'cause they have no other idea to contact sakka

Nevermind because Haru found a DIY ritual on Bing to contact sakka (he has been invited for some reason)

Since soccer is a concept, they cannot interact with it on Earth, they need to access another stage of existence by chants and consumption of cookies

Thanksfully, Da Trio did not consummed all the cookies offered by the monk in a doggie bag

They do the ritual and everyone eats one cookie : by 4 am, this is a success, everyone's souls left their bodies, except Haru who doesn't have a soul 😢

All of the sudden, they were outside in the middle of the night in an unknown place and they can't see shit

Until astral figures appear and challenge them in a duel

So they play sakka, and da team won (i am too lazy to explain how)

Next thing they know, they are waking up in the middle of the class and everyone looks at them funny

They are confused, disoriented, but seems soccer doesn't ghost them anymore so this is good

They meet up with Haru, wondering why he wasn't with them playing against the weird creatures

Haru has no idea of what they are talking about

"By the way, congratulations on winning your qualification match ! See y'all in the 2nd part of FF" 🥰

The end 💋💋💋

Next poll :

Previous post :

The haunting of Unmei

[ochrearia]

dark talk

I'm posting it anyway, I have decided. Hey man.

TW for suicidal talk and just general really bad mental health

BFs in this one-shot: Beefer (cs!BF, mine), Yourself (YS) (Beset is mentioned.)

“I know about Beset.”

YS let out a sigh, not even bothering to look at Beefer when he spoke. “Of course you do. I expect nothing less from the guy who knows about everything. My fault for believing that he’d leave any of you alone. Should’ve just killed him. Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve done something like that.”

Beefer looked at him carefully. “You expect me to yell at you. You want me to yell at you. You’re a glutton for punishment and I’m not going to do that. That wasn’t the reason I came to visit anyway. I have something else to ask you.”

YS turned to look at him then, eyes baggy and unimpressed. Well, it wasn’t like he was doing anything else today. “Shoot.”

Beefer seemed to be a little hesitant now. Looking down to his hands, playing with his claws as he rotated them against each other. “How did you know when you wanted to do it?”

YS blinked. “I’m… not following. This is too broad.”

The Dinaurian sighed. “Your life. When did you know that you didn’t want it anymore? I know you haven’t wanted it for a while and nothing any of us say or do make you change your mind. So how did you know you didn’t want it?”

YS’s instincts blared in alarm. This wasn’t a question any of his brothers should be asking with the hesitation Beefer had. Hesitation like he was asking for himself. But YS pushed it down, tired of having those damn things choose for him. “Well… I guess it’s more complicated for me now that Beset told me what he did. But it’s… more like… Wondering why you’re still here. When breathing is a chore and when you know you don’t belong. Our brothers have a spark that I don’t and will never have. It’s a want to be gone but being too tired to do anything about it. It’s shutting yourself up because everyone else around you would never understand and instead be disappointed in your choice, your want. It’s knowing that you’re meant to be alone but the people in your life won’t let you do that. It’s losing your autonomy to make a choice because society decided a long time ago that the choice you want to make is wrong. And for people like me, well, guess I’m used to losing my ability to make my own choices by now.”

Beefer was silent for a moment, taking in his brother’s words. Then,

“I think I know.”

YS rested a hand on the smaller’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“I think I understand my Pico now. Took me a while, but I get it. I don’t think he’d want me to. I… they’d be horrified if I told them, wouldn’t they?”

YS sighed. “Sometimes there are things that you can’t tell anyone. People like to wax poetic about how they care and how they’d do anything for someone if they came out and said what they thought or wanted. No one actually believes that. They say that with the delusion that they’re going to be able to be the savior. Fix someone into someone loveable again because what they are now isn’t. And when it doesn’t work like that they realize that they don’t actually love the person they’re trying to fix. Just an idea that they can make things better.”

YS kept an eye on Beefer, tightening his grip on the other’s shoulder just a little. Was this really what he should be telling him? Of course not. No one should have to know the truth just because you did. “For what it’s worth, I can at least realize my mistake. I came to everyone with the exact same mentality because I thought that’s what I had to do. And now I’m trapped there. My biology doesn’t really allow me to make my own choices when it matters. But I’m sorry for coming to you thinking that I had to fix you. Or anyone. I’m never going to be able to allow you to remove the life you have if you ever try. I’m never going to be able to allow you that choice even if you want it. And it’s not the nicest thing to hear when you already know, but people would miss you. It’s reasons like that that make you want to remove those people. Everything everyone’s ever told me is just another reason to hate myself and… if you’re already this understanding of what it’s like, then you’re probably going to get to this point too. I’m not going to tell you what you already know. I’m just going to tell you I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know if… that’s…” Beefer paused, frowning. “I don’t know if that’s all true. I think you’re just too used to people not knowing what they’re getting into.”

“...Maybe not. Maybe you won’t get to that point. I’d prefer you didn’t but it’s not about what I want. My advice? Hold onto that doubt of what I told you. If you can do that, then you’ll be alright.”

Beefer’s frown deepened, looking back up to YS. “But what about you?”

“I don’t want it, Beefer, and I highly doubt that’s going to change. I don’t say it out loud a lot because I’m well aware of my want being something that just upsets everyone else. Like I said. It’s shutting yourself up for the sake of everyone else around you. That’s all you can do when you’re in my shoes. I’ve come to a point where I know if I speak, it will always be wrong. Easier to just let everyone believe that I’m getting better so they don’t have to hurt with me.”

“That’s… madness.”

“That’s me.” YS replied bluntly. “I shouldn’t have answered your question in the way I did. I’m sorry for that. Would’ve been better to let you believe there was hope.”

“I don’t want you to lie to me.” The other countered.

“Yeah. Everyone says that. Trust me, you’ll change your mind on that if I really tell you everything.”

“Why won’t you just let anyone help you?”

“Because no one can.” YS muttered darkly. “I don’t want people wasting their time on me. It’s not like I can kill myself anyway. HS made sure of that. Can’t control who I feel love for. It’s whatever. I need a fucking cigarette…”

It was a shitty way to end the conversation. YS knew it. But he didn’t have the energy to be grilled over being beyond help again. Always a subject he couldn’t escape. Better to stop it from happening instead of letting it progress to the point of the failure to fix. The realization. That was alway worse than blocking someone from helping at all. Beefer watched YS’s back retreat with unreadable eyes as he looked for a smoke.

“Idiot… I’ve never even seen you smoke once.” Beefer huffed under his breath, but he let it drop.

He’s never gonna find people who understand him if the understanding he wants is for people to be fine with him wanting to kill himself. But he’s not going to budge on it either. So it’s just going to keep going. I don’t really know what he means by the loss of autonomy talk, but I guess that’s something else going on he won’t open up about. He’s doing a good job of trying to pull away, I guess. Maybe it would be good to warn the others about this behavior.

Beefer wasn’t sure if this was just a bad episode or really the path the angel was going down, but for everyone’s sake, he hoped it was just the former.

[urinecrust]

While I wait for my TikTok account to get AGE VERIFIED I will be larping on Tumblr and talking about my silly little interests.

Ahem, CS 1.6 !! One of my BIGGEST interests since I was...around...hmmmm 11? I will be info-dumping about it under the cut, so if you'd like to know more about CS 1.6 & the older versions of CSGO then...HI! I'M THE MAN!

The game itself was originally just a mod for half-life ( that is another one of my interests. ), so naturally its ENTIRE structure is built around modding. I think that one of the biggest reasons CS 1.6 stayed alive for SO long. Their GoldSrc engine made it RIDICULOUSLY easy to mod. The moment you joined a modded server the game would auto-download whatever files were needed, meaning people could LITERALLY start playing any game without manually installing anything.

One of my PERSONAL favorites is Zombie Plague. TLDR, one player started as a zombie and had to infect others.

The netcode in CS 1.6 was... janky but precise??? Hit registration wasn’t perfect AT ALL but the low tick rate made flick shots feel incredibly...SNAPPY IG?? I DON'T KNOW HOW ELSE TO DESCRIBE IT. I mostly used to rely on muscle memory for headshots.

ALSO THE MAP MAKING... Hammer Editor ( Valve’s level design tool ) let people create maps with basically no restrictions ( imagine... like roblox's game-making tool ). That’s why there were SO MANY INSANE custom maps. AND, E_DUST2 ALMOST DIDN’T HAPPEN. IT WASN’T EVEN PART OF THE ORIGINAL COUNTER-STRIKE LINEUP. It was added later in Beta 7.

OH MY GOD. ALSO. ALSO. A THING I REMEMBER SO WELL IS THAT WALLBANGING WAS FUCKING INSANE. Bullets could pass through MULTIPLE walls and objects. ( AWPers on de_dust2 mid doors PISSED ME OFF. AND STILL DO. )

DUDE. I COULD RANT ABOUT CS 1.6 ALL DAY AND NIGHT. My pc broke a good...I'd say 6 months ago. I MISS PLAYING THAT GAME WITH OTHER PLAYERS. And bots...MODDED BOTS. DON'T. GET. ME. STARTED. I would usually spend my time playing it with bots because I hated interacting with real players 💔 The moment I started talking I'd get yelled slurs at I fear. FREAKS!! TOXICCCCC FREAKS MOST OF THEM!!! BOTS 4LYF

[notsocheezy]

Brain Curd #144

Brain Curds are lightly edited flash fiction - practically first drafts - posted daily (haven't missed one yet!) and sometimes written with the express intention of being terrible… but, you know, in an endearing way. Please like and reblog if you enjoy - the notes keep me going!

A bead of sweat dripped down Reggie’s forehead as he lined up the shot. He took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and breathed out as he pulled the trigger.

“Headshot!” He yelled out, pumping his fist in the air.

“Hey come on, man!” Clint said from the other room. “I’m trying to study for the midterm!”

Reggie scoffed. “It’s basic calculus. What even is there to study for? Gonna forget how to take an integral?”

Clint rubbed his forehead. “Yes! Yes, that is exactly what might happen. What are you, some kind of genius or something?”

“Yes.”

“No you fucking aren’t, dude. I’ve seen you try to unlock the front door with your car key.”

“Trivial lapses, my friend. I was busy thinking about quantum physics at the time.”

“You're so full of shit. Okay…” Clint pulled out his periodic table. “What is the atomic weight of Ununennium?”

“Too easy. Three-hundred and sixteen.”

“You just looked that up!” Clint ran into the bedroom to catch Reggie red handed, but he was still deeply invested in a Counter-Strike match.

“Didn't need to. I memorized the whole periodic table… including the useless elements. I was just bored one afternoon, is all.”

“I don't believe this. How are you a C student?”

“Lazy.” He got another headshot dead-on. “Videogames are more fun than, like, English Lit. Cs get degrees, baybee.”

“Can you help me study, then?”

“Hmmm.” Reggie turned in his chair. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because the author hates calculus and doesn't want to brush up on it for a story five people are gonna read. You're on your own, bud.”

“What do you mean, ‘author’?”

“You don't know? We're fictional characters, man. Not real. Made up. Everything we say and do right now is determined by the imagination of a woman hopped up on prescription painkillers.”

“That can't be true…”

“Think about it. Don't you remember when I went all crazy about Goldfish crackers and cannibalized you?”

“That was just a dream I told you about.”

“No, it happened. I remember it too. But because we're not real, we can just come back.”

“Dude… that was the most painful experience of my life. You shaved my skin off with a cheese grater! That was real?!?”

“As real as anything is for us.”

“I don't think I feel comfortable being your roommate anymore…”

“Okay.” Reggie pulled out a glock and shot Clint right in the forehead before going back to his game. “You'll forget all about this by next time, Clinty-boy.”

[snowbellewells]

CS Fic Rec Monday: "Not Going Home (Without You)" by @niniadepapa

My second rec this week is another one shot, this one taking us all the way back to the CS movie/Season 3 finale time frame in the show's canon. @niniadepapa crafts a lovely tale in which we get to see what might have happened (and how they could have really squeezed our hearts) if Emma had encountered Graham during their time in the past. It breaks my heart, it's beautiful, and it takes nothing away from CS either, as Killian is there for Emma at the end, ready to help her find her way home.

If you know much about me as an OuaT fan, you know that I love Captain Swan, but I will always love our tragic Sheriff/Huntsman and I have a soft spot for the Gremma feels as well. This one is an especially brilliant balancing act because both relationships are depicted wonderfully, showing the impact each had on Emma in helping her to open her heart to others again. In fact, there were some lines so lovely I had to try to incorporate at least one into the cover art I attempted. I hope you'll like this @niniadepapa! And if you've missed this little gem, please go and read it today!

"Not Going Home (Without You)" by: @niniadepapa

[loafysainz]

the parent trap (remake) | CS 55

cast: carlos sainz x fem!reader

warn: 100% fiction & remake

next chap

PART 15 THE PLAN WORKS

Carlos rushed out of his room, his footsteps echoing down the hall as he adjusted his shirt with one hand and smoothed his beard with the other. Just as he reached the corner, he spotted his son, Mattia, strolling toward him with a relaxed gait.

“What’s wrong, Dad?” Mattia greeted casually, tilting his head as if Carlos’ hurried state wasn’t an unusual sight.

Carlos took a moment to catch his breath, pointing toward the lobby as he spoke. “Theo, could you do me a favor? Go hang out with Meredith for a bit. I need to head downstairs to the lobby.”

Mattia nodded without hesitation, but before he could turn away, Carlos stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Ah, wait! How do I look? Good? Bad? Very bad? Is there something in my face or my suit? how about my tie?” Carlos asked in rapid-fire succession, his tone betraying just a hint of nervousness.

Mattia grinned, clearly enjoying this rare moment of seeing his dad so flustered. “Oh, you look really good, Dad. Like, seriously, very attractive and cool.”

Carlos’ face lit up at the compliment, and he gave his son a quick pat on the head before rushing off, muttering a quick “Thanks!” as he disappeared down the hall. Mattia watched him go, a satisfied smile spreading across his face.

When Carlos arrived in the lobby, he paused in confusion as he spotted Matheo again, standing near the elevators.

“Theo? Weren’t you going to find Meredith?” he asked, his brows furrowing as he tried to make sense of the situation.

Matheo blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Ah, yes, of course! I was already looking for her,” he said quickly, nodding as if to convince himself.

Carlos didn’t seem entirely convinced, but before he could question further, Matheo stepped forward and hugged him. “I missed you, Dad.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow but returned the hug, patting his son on the back. “I missed you too, Theo. Now go find Meredith. I’ll be back in a moment.”

With that, Matheo nodded and sauntered toward the elevator, humming a tune under his breath. When the doors opened, Meredith stepped out, holding a small mirror in one hand as she adjusted her hair.

“Have you seen your dad?” Meredith asked, her eyes still fixed on her reflection.

Matheo tilted his head, feigning confusion. “Are you talking to me?”

Meredith dropped the mirror slightly and shot him a deadpan look. “Hello…. Who else would I be talking to? Henry Cavill? Of course, I'm talking to you. Now tell me, where did your dad go?”

Matheo shrugged and pointed vaguely into the distance. “Over there, I think.”

Meredith followed the direction of his gesture, a smirk curling at the edges of her lips. Matheo’s gaze swept over her, seeing her from head to toe with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Meredith noticed the stare and raised an eyebrow. “What are you looking at?”

Matheo grinned wider. “Oh, nothing... It’s just that you’re really beautiful.”

Maredith groaned, rolling her eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t get stuck. “Don’t tell me you’ve suddenly decided to stop being annoying and are trying to be sweet now.” she started walking away, tossing over her shoulder, “If you see your dad, tell him I’m looking for him.”

Matheo cocked his head, a sly smile playing on his lips. “Whatever you say... devil.”

****

The bar was dimly lit, buzzing with muffled conversations and the clinking of glasses. Y/N Y/LN sat at the far end, looking like the embodiment of exhaustion. Her head rested in one hand, while the other nursed a drink that the bartender assured would help with her headache. It tasted vile, but Y/N drank it anyway, hoping it would deliver on its promise. She barely noticed when a young woman approached him, asking the bartender for a whiskey.

 “Mrs. Y/LN, your bill,” the bartender said. Y/N quickly signed it, eager to leave before anything else could interrupt her peace.

But then came the sound of a drink being nearly choked on, followed by an excitable voice. “Are you Y/N Y/LN?”

Y/N turned to find the woman staring at her with wide eyes, a mix of disbelief and excitement. “Guilty...” she replied flatly, taking another sip of her drink, the red liquid swirling in her glass.

The woman’s face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. “You don’t know how lucky I am to have found you! There’s this beautiful gown pure white creation that shimmered like starlight. I love the silhouette that hugged the body with precision, flaring out into a dramatic, cascading train that seemed to float effortlessly. Oh and the cloud-like tulle overskirt added in the layers of ethereal beauty, making the gown look as if it belonged to a modern-day fairytale. I tried calling you, but they said you were traveling. I’d be panicking if I couldn’t find something like that suit. It must be fate! I’m Meredith Blake, by the way.”

Y/N’s brow furrowed slightly as she processed the woman’s rapid-fire enthusiasm. While Meredith’s energy was somewhat endearing. She still, nodded politely, offering a small smile out of courtesy. “Nice to meet you, Meredith.”

The bartender returned with another round, placing a whiskey down with a casual. Meredith, however, was still brimming with excitement, oblivious to Y/N’s exhaustion.

“You know,” Meredith continued, leaning in as if they were old friends, “I saw that gown in a magazine and instantly knew I had to have it. It’s exactly what I’ve been looking for. Honestly, you’re a genius.”

Y/N simply said, “I’m glad you like it.”

Meredith grinned, lifting his glass in a toast. “it feels like fate meet you there.”

Y/N clinked her glass against Meredith’s with a small, tired smile. She didn’t believe in fate, not really, but for the moment, she let herself pretend.

*****

Carlos couldn’t shake the image of the woman he saw earlier—the one with blondish hair, and the kind of smile that could stop time. Was it real, or had the heat gotten to him? He wandered through the hotel grounds, distracted, scanning every corner for a glimpse of him. 

He made it to the pool just in time for his future in-laws to stop him. Meredith’s mom was beaming, clearly enamored with the place. 

“Oh honey, this hotel is absolutely perfect for the wedding. The more I see it, the more I love it,” she gushed, grabbing his arm. 

Carlos couldn’t shake the image of the woman he saw earlier—the one with blondish hair, and the kind of smile that could stop time. Was it real, or had the heat gotten to him? He wandered through the hotel grounds, distracted, scanning every corner for a glimpse of her. 

He made it to the pool just in time for his future in-laws to stop him. Meredith’s mom was beaming, clearly enamored with the place. 

“Oh Carlos, this hotel is absolutely perfect for the wedding. The more I see it, the more I love it,” she gushed, grabbing his arm. 

Carlos nodded absentmindedly, his attention drifting elsewhere. Then, he saw her again. Y/N. Walking by the pool, still wearing that beautiful dress that somehow looked effortlessly elegant. Carlos froze. The sunlight hit Y/N just right, making her look... angelic. Was there a literal glow around her, or was Carlos just imagining things? 

“Yes,” Carlos muttered vaguely, tearing his eyes away from Y/N to respond to his future mother-in-law. “Really beautiful. No doubt about it.” His words carried a hidden meaning she thankfully didn’t pick up on. 

As Y/N walked closer, Carlos started moving toward her, trying not to trip over the occasional chair or distracted hotel guest. 

“Carlos, how many guests are you inviting to the wedding?” Meredith’s mom pressed. 

“We’ll talk later,” Carlos said, brushing her off. He was far too distracted to think about the arrangements.   

He sped up but managed to trip over something—or maybe someone—because the next thing he knew, he was falling headfirst into the pool. 

The splash echoed, and gasps rippled through the crowd. Chessy shouted a warning that came too late, and Carlos resurfaced dripping wet, his face flushing in embarrassment. From a distance, Y/N stood frozen, unsure whether to laugh or rush over. 

Carlos climbed out of the pool, water dripping from his hair. He ran a hand through it and grinned awkwardly. “Hey, Y/N,” he greeted, his voice cracking slightly. 

“H-hey, Carlos,” Y/N replied, his voice soft but filled with nerves. 

Carlos stared at her, still trying to make sense of it all. “It’s… amazing that you’re here,” he said, his words spilling out clumsily. “But can you tell me what’s going on? You don’t seem nearly as shocked or confused as I am.” 

Before Y/N could answer, a young voice chimed in. “Dad… I can explain.” 

Carlos turned, blinking in disbelief. Standing there was a boy who looked all too familiar. 

“Matheo?” Carlos asked, his voice shaky. 

“No, I’m Mattia,” the boy corrected. 

Carlos froze, his brain working overtime. “Mattia? Wait… Mattia?” 

“Yes, Dad,” Mattia said with a grin. 

“And I’m Matheo,” another boy added, appearing from behind. 

Carlos’s jaw dropped. “You’re both here? Wait… Matheo? Mattia? Together?!” He looked from one to the other, trying to process the realization. 

Matheo stepped forward, smiling mischievously. “It seems you and Mom had the same idea of sending us to the same camp. That’s where we met—and came up with this brilliant plan.” 

“They switched places,” Y/N explained gently, his gaze shifting between the twins and Carlos. 

Carlos blinked, his confusion deepening. “So, I’ve had Mattia with me all this time?” 

Mattia nodded hesitantly. “Yes… are you angry?” 

Carlos let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “Angry? No, of course not!” He pulled Mattia into a tight hug. “I’m just so happy to see you, son. The last time I saw you, you were still in diapers.” He laughed, glancing down at his wet clothes. “Although I guess I haven’t changed much—I’m still soaking wet.” 

Mattia laughed nervously. “It doesn’t matter, Dad. I’ve grown up now.” 

Matheo stepped forward, crossing his arms with a dramatic sigh. “And I’m about to hit my teenage years without a mom to fight with. Do you know how tragic that is?” 

Y/N laughed softly at his son’s theatrical delivery, and Carlos finally began to relax, a huge grin spreading across his face. 

“Matheo,” Carlos said, shaking his head, “you were in London all this time?” 

Matheo nodded smugly, and Carlos pulled him into a hug as well. “Come here, my little troublemaker.” 

As Carlos held both boys, his heart felt fuller than it had in years. This was chaos, sure—but it was the kind of chaos he never wanted to let go of. 

“Dad, mom, she’s amazing. I don’t know how you ever let her go,” Matheo whispered to Carlos, loud enough for Y/N to hear. 

Carlos shot them a sharp look, but before he could reply, Y/N stepped in. “Boys, how about you let your father and me have a moment alone? Go on, we’ll be fine.” 

Matheo shrugged, nudging his brother. “Sure, no problem,” he said, grinning. Mattia followed, both of them snickering as they walked away. 

Carlos let out a breath, grabbing a towel to dry off. “This is unbelievable,” he muttered, rubbing his hair with the towel. “Them together, you here… Ouch! Damn it!” 

Y/N frowned, noticing the small cut above Carlos’ eyebrow. Without hesitation, he stepped closer. “Let me see that,” she said, her voice calm but firm. She flagged down a nearby waiter. “Excuse me, could we get a first aid kit, please?” 

Carlos stood at the edge of the pool, shaking his head as water dripped down his face. His twin sons, Mattia and Matheo, exchanged sly smiles as they stepped back, clearly proud of whatever mischief they’d just orchestrated. 

“Of course,” the waiter replied, hurrying off. 

Y/N gestured for Carlos to sit down, and though Carlos was reluctant, he obeyed. Y/N sitting next to him, tilting her head gently to examine the wound. 

“How are you, Y/N (lovely nickname)?” Carlos asked, his voice softer now. “Can I still call you that? Or should it be (Y/N) these days?” 

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head slightly. “Y/N’s fine. It’s been a while, but I don’t mind.” 

Carlos smiled, his dark eyes lingering on Y/N. “You haven’t changed. Still as beautiful as ever.” 

Y/N felt her cheeks flush, the words catching him off guard even after all these years. Before she could respond, they were interrupted by an enthusiastic voice. 

“There you are!” Meredith’s familiar tone broke the moment as she approached, her eyes lighting up when she saw Y/N. “Oh! You’ve already met! Carlos, this is Y/N Y/LN—she’s helping me with the wedding gown.”

Carlos froze, his towel slipping from his hands. “Wait, are you going to make her gown?” he asked, his voice low. 

Y/N, flustered, stammered, “I—I didn’t know she was your fiancé...” 

Meredith blinked, clearly sensing the tension. “Wait a second. Hold up. You two know each other?” 

Carlos opened his mouth to explain, but no words came out. Y/N looked like he wanted to sink into the floor. 

“Meredith, did I ever tell you it’s a small world?” Carlos joked awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. 

Y/N rolled his eyes. ‘Carlos still an idiot,’ she muttered in her thought 

Meredith raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “How small, exactly?” she asked, her voice growing sharper.    

Before anyone could answer, Mattia and Matheo returned, their faces lit with mischievous glee. 

“Hi, Meredith!” Mattia greeted cheerfully. 

Meredith gave them a distracted wave, but when her eyes landed on the boys, she froze. Her gaze darted between them, her expression turning to one of shock.

“Why… why do you two look the same?” she stammered, pointing between the twins. 

Matheo grinned. “Because we’re twins,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Surprise!” 

Meredith’s jaw dropped. “Carlos! You never told me—”

“Mer, did I tell you that Matheo had a twin?" Carlos spoke, receiving Meredith's full attention."N-no... I think you forgot that little detail,"

The Matheo reproached. "Don't worry Meredith, he never told me either"

Matheo replied, looking at his father out of the corner of his eye. "By the way, I'm the real Matheo, he's Mattia... he pretended to be me, while I pretended to be him."

“And did he tell you,” Matheo chimed in, pointing at Y/N, “that she is our mom?” 

Meredith whipped around to face Y/N, her face a mix of disbelief and irritation. “You’re their mom?” she turned to Carlos, her voice rising. “You were married to her?” 

Y/N crossed her arms, her expression cool as she raised an eyebrow at Meredith. “Yes, I’m their mother. Is that a problem?” 

Meredith stared at her, then at Carlos, then back at Y/N. “Oh, my God. You’re right, Carlos. This is a small world. Too small, actually. Is there another surprise you want to tell me?” 

The twins burst into laughter, clearly entertained by the chaos they’d caused. Y/N couldn’t help but smile, though she quickly covered it with a cough. 

Meredith, meanwhile, looked like she was one sarcastic comment away from exploding, which only seemed to delight the boys even more. 

Carlos groaned, rubbing his temples. “This is going to be a long day…”    

prev chap

[lovingperfectionsblog]

Ferrari Red

Requested:  Yes

I LOVED UR RECENT GASLY FANFIC AHHHHHHH *screams in french* i desperately need you to write like a reader that’s like very sexually promiscuous and flirty around the paddock (she’s a driver, whichever team you choose lol), kinda like a very girly girl that’s very confident and is not afraid to show that she is a woman and that she likes to look good and that her being that way doesn’t take away that she’s very aggressive in the sport and that she’s very good, having won many points. she’s like very charming and smooth and makes everyone blush with her innocent but flirty comments but everyone knows that’s just her being her. but she has like this huge school girl crush on carlos sainz cs they communicate a lot, since her first language is spanish as well, but she thinks carlos doesn’t recuperate her feelings because he never really treats her like anything but a sister, the nicknames and pet names rolling naturally off of both of their tongues, no meaning behind them - or so she thought and like carlos always being shy whenever she flirted with him. so like in one interview they were matched up together since they like to participate a lot in playful banter and they’re fun for the media and he confesses his feelings for her and now it’s her time to blush and be without words

Carlos Sainz Jr x Reader

Summary: Carlos picks possibly the worst moment to tell the truth about how he feels.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of sex. Kinda slight angst, fluff.

Word Count: 2946 words

Authors note: I did not expect this to go on so long and I really think I love a slightly angsty Carlos, can’t wait to hear what you think :D

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______________________________________________________________

“You know you don’t have to be the best at everything right” Daniel commented as you slid up to the group of boys, causing all of them to divert their eyes to you.

“What on earth do you mean?” it wasn’t often that you were left confused, especially not by Daniel, one of the few drivers who always openly spoke their mind, but this comment left you a little stumped.

“Easily one of the better drivers, clearly better than Lando at the very least” Daniel threw the insult at his teammate, loving the smile it brought to your face, but earning a shove from Lando, “does she, or does she not have more points than you?”

“I have more points than you!” Lando shot back, having checked the points of each of the drivers this morning, and while yes, you definitely had more than him, he definitely had more than Daniel.

“Excuse me, can I carry on giving her the explanation?” he gestured to you, continuing at your nod “you don’t have to dress better than all of us and look so damn good all the time as well”, he finished it off with a wink, you not missing the way his eyes lingered a little too long on your figure.

What you did miss though was the was Carlos’s jaw clenched and how he had to look away, as to not expose his jealousy at Daniels actions.

What Carlos didn’t know was despite as much as looking good was for yourself, there was always a small part of you that hoped he would notice, that he would compliment you, and he did, truly, but never the way you wanted it.

This was a (not so) secret dance you both did out in the open, to the two of you it only being playful banter between two friends, or at least you both thought, but to all of your friends, they all knew the truth, from either his side or yours, how you both actually felt about the other, but too scared to ruin the friendship you had.

So instead, you both settled for this. The playful flirting, the light touches, the smiles you didn’t realize were reserved only for each other.

If this was all you could have, then you would be happy with this.

“Yeah, no one needs to look this good for press you know that right?” Pierre was less secretive about his gaze raking your body in, causing you to blush as you gave a little twirl, showing off your outfit fully.

“Oh honey, you know I’m not dressing up for the press, it’s always for you boys” you teased but the entire group of them couldn’t help but blush at the response, all knowing you were just joking, but the charm was something they couldn’t help but fall for.

“Ferrari red does look good on you” Carlos hummed out, and you weren’t sure if he was talking about the red of your jumpsuit or the red on your cheeks from his comment.

“And you are the one I make sure I look good for the most” you weren’t lying, but he didn’t need to know that.

All the other drivers were rolling their eyes, not that either of you would notice, to engrossed in the conversation you were having with each other.

“Were you inspired by my car that you had to look at in front of you the whole race” Carlos needed to distract himself, he couldn’t fall for you more than he already was.

You shoved his chest playfully at his comment, laughing all the while. He instinctually grabbed your hand, pulling you closer to him without a second thought and wrapping his hand around your shoulder, smile growing wider at your laugh.

The next second though, once the laughter had died down, you both realised the position you were in, and neither of you wanted to pull away.

Carlos shot his teammate a wide-eyed glance, indicating his surprise at what he had just done, never thinking he’d actually have the guts to do so.

You on the other hand secretly threw your own look towards Lando, one of your best friends on the grid, and the only one who knew how you actually felt about Carlos. He shot you a sneaky thumbs up, lastly only a split second, hoping none of the other drivers would notice, and truthfully you would have missed if you blinked at the exact same time it was so quick.

In your own secret, non-verbal conversation, Lando tried to mimic shuffling closer to Carlos, encouraging you to worm your way deeper into his embrace, carefully, so not to scare him off, but also in such a way that may be played off as nothing other than friendly.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Daniel looked down at Lando as he was not so subtly shimming his body closer to Daniels as he tried to get you to copy him.

“Nothing” Lando gulped, immediately stopping, staring up at Daniel, internally cringing at the thought of being caught.

“Don’t sit next to me in the press conference” Daniel created some distance between him and Lando as the rest of the drivers laughed, all confused and curious by Lando’s actions.

With all the boys distracted, you took this as your opportunity to move yourself further into Carlos’ side, wrapping both your arms around his waist and hooking them together to settle on his hip, hoping and praying he didn’t reject the comforting. Somehow convincing yourself that he would take it as nothing other than friendly. You relaxed as you felt his grip on your shoulders tighten, pulling you further in. Okay, thank goodness, he did see at as friendly, and not as you desperately seeking out the touch of the man you had fallen absolutely head over heels for. You couldn’t do anything else but smile at the ground, hoping none of the other drivers saw the blush on your face and the absolutely giddy smile you had on.

Charles own smile grew as he watched Carlos looking down at you. He was sure he had never seen anyone as in love as Carlos looked at this moment. He wished he knew how to get you to realize how the Spaniard felt about you, but Carlos made him promise not to get involved. Carlos had begged him to keep it a secret. Honestly, he thought it was a risk Carlos should be willing to take, but he also understood his fear. No one could ever really get an accurate reading on who you liked, you were kind and flirty with everyone, and you had never mentioned ever being interested in someone before, so no one ever truly knew. But Charles knew his friend, and Carlos was in love with you.

“Hey, drivers, first lot are going to be done in 10, so if you could start heading down for your conference, thanks” the media manager was so quick to pop their head in and out to relay the information and it had to an extent sobered you and Carlos up, both of you awkwardly letting the other go, creating some distance between the two of you.

Without a word, you all began making your way down to your duties, wanting nothing more than for it to be over and done with. In your movements Lando slid in next to you as Carlos had caught up with Charles in front of you.

Lando glanced at Carlos, making sure he was far away enough before he began speaking with you about what just happened.

“He absolutely has to like you back” Lando was gushing over the both of you, refusing to accept what you had already, that Carlos saw you as nothing but a friend.

“He likes me as much as Pierre likes me” you shot back, not wanting Lando to get your hopes up. You couldn’t handle that, not before press. You weren’t good at hiding your disappointment well and the press always seemed to be able to pick up on it.

“Pierre wants to fuck you” Lando deadpanned.

“Don’t you all?” the knowing look on your face made Lando gulp, feeling slightly guilty at the truth of it, “just because you want to sleep with someone doesn’t mean you like them” there was sadness in your voice, Lando could hear it, and he wanted to be able to fix it. He was certain Carlos felt the same way about you as you did him, but you had made him promise to just leave it, not wanting to risk the friendship with Carlos.

“Okay, yes, Pierre definitely does want to fuck you, but Carlos-“ stopping mid-sentence when you placed a hand on his arm.

“Please Lando, I don’t want to get my hopes up, he doesn’t feel the same, and if he did, chances are he would say something”  you were shocked at how your own  voice wavered at your plea, but you recovered fairly quickly, smiling at Lando again.

“Okay, fine” Lando didn’t want to upset you, but his frustration was getting the better of him in this scenario, “just remember, guys get nervous too” and with that he dropped it.

“So that was good no?” Charles whispered to Carlos, shooting a glance back at you.

“She just sees me as a friend” Carlos just shoved his hands into his pockets, staring at the ground as he walked, disappointed in the situation he found himself in.

He didn’t want to fall for you, Lord knows he didn’t, but there was just something about you. You were magnetic. There was no one else he related to more than you. No one who made his as happy as you did, No one he wanted to spend more time with, than you. He spent nearly all of his time thinking about you, often finding himself daydreaming of declaring his love for you and you both living happily ever after. But this wasn’t a fairy-tale, this was his life, and despite how he felt about you, you only saw him as a friend.

“Mate, she definitely does not see you as only a friend, I saw what was happening there with you two” Charles tried to argue with him, knowing if he could only get into Carlos’s head he might be able to convince him to do something about it.

“Charles, it’s not worth the risk, please, if all I get are little moments like that, then so be it, but I’m not going to lose her” Carlos chastised his friend, not wanting to have to get into this now, already upset for the press.

“Didn’t take you for a coward” Charles whispered, fully intending on Carlos hearing the dig.

“Yeah, me either” Charles wasn’t expecting the admission from him. Welp, there it was, Carlos was officially in a bad mood for the press.

______

“Y/n, question for you” you nodded at the journalist, urging them on, “we know that Carlos is one of the drivers you have the best relationships with on the grid, so in races like today, how does it feel to have to battle against one of your friends for positions and how does a battle like that not spill over into your personal lives?”

“Well, firstly, its difficult to be mad when you’re busy admiring the skill behind driving like that, especially to have to overtake me” you shot Carlos a wink and he brought his hands to his heart, mouthing a thank you as he played along, causing the entire room to laugh, lapping up the content you two were giving them, “but truthfully, with Carlos, there is a sense of pride, as much as I want to win, it feels good to see someone who means that much to you do so well, so on the track, it’s a respectful battle and off the track it’s nothing but celebrations for the other” you answered truthfully. You were always proud seeing Carlos doing well, even if he had beaten you.

Charles looked at his friend, cocking an eyebrow, trying to make his case without saying a word, Carlos just rolled his eye dismissing Charles, assuming this was how you felt about all the drivers.

“But that’s only with Carlos, I’m pretty sure she would fight Daniel if he tried that nonsense with her on track” Lando piped up, causing another round of laughter, Daniel and you both turning to the other, putting up your fists in a mock fight, weaving and dodging in the pretend boxing ring.

“I’d like to see you try little miss” Daniel threw in his own comment, “fastest fighter on this side of Europe”

You stopped, deadpanning at Daniel, “Please, I’ve seen you drive a car, not entirely sure those reflexes hold up old man” causing everyone to laugh again while he threw you a warning look for bring up his age.

Once the laughter had died down, the conference continued, something Carlos had not been paying attention to at all. Truthfully, the entire time his mind had been on the moment you two had shared, and how Charles had called him a coward.

And he really was right.

“Carlos” you nudged him with your mic, trying to get his attention after he ignored the journalists wanting to ask him a question.

“Yes, yes, sorry” he paused, smiling at you, only redirecting his attention back to the journalists after you returned the smile.

“Yes, so, I just wanted to ask, with manoeuvres like today on the track, you must be pretty brave to-“

“I’m not” Carlos cut him off.

The entire room was silent, all eyes on him.

“You’re not?” the journalist tentatively asked, confused at the sharp answer he was given without even finishing his question.

“I’m not brave, not where it matters” he let out a sigh, “I’m a coward”.

Charles was suddenly sitting straighter, eyes wide, frantically trying to get his attention, hoping this was not the moment he was going to pick to do this.

You could hear a pin drop, everyone waiting for Carlos to give a greater explanation for his comment.

“Your driving proves-“ Carlos began shaking his head, dropping it to look at the ground, too ashamed to meet anyone’s eyes.

“It’s not about the driving. Who cares about the driving when something this important exists?” he closed his eyes, only being able to picture the feeling of you at his side, your arms around him, the urge he had to fight in order to not kiss you the head as you curled in on him.

“It’s like, you think you can do anything, and then you meet someone who makes you forget how to even breathe, and then you get close to her, and you assume she’s just going to become a good friend because there’s no one you get along with as well as her, and then one day, out of nowhere she’s the only reason you look forward to coming to races anymore,  she’s all you can think about, you can pick her laugh out in a crowd, and you hope to God she feels the same, you know she doesn’t, but you hope anyway, because all you do is daydream about admitting to her how you feel, and in the dream she feels the same, but here, in reality, you’re a coward, and she doesn’t”

What the fuck was he doing?

“Then, when you feel like you couldn’t possibly fall even further, she walks out in Ferrari red, and you resign yourself to the fact that you’ll never know how to breathe again, you know you’ll never know anything else ever again, other than her name”

He sighed.

“But you’re a coward, and she doesn’t feel the same”.

He finally looked up. The room bathed in a shocked silence.

Charles had prepared for nearly every scenario he could think of that had involved you and Carlos, but this was not one of them. He needed you to say something, right now, because he wasn’t sure how he was going fix this one.

“She does” you whispered, causing Carlos to snap his head in your direction.

“What?” there was no way you had said that you did, he was back in the daydream.

“If you’re talking about me, I do, I feel the same, I always have” You had never felt this nervous, please, please please let him be talking about you.

Please.

Carlos was suddenly leaning back in his chair, running his hands down his face and laughing, it was like there was too much happiness in his body and the only way he could get it out was to laugh.

Next he was grabbing your hand and leaning closer to you so he could whisper in your ear, “I’m sorry for making that so public, but once this is done, can we please go talk?”

You were just nodding and smiling, pretty sure that you didn’t give  a damn how he had done it, but so thankful that he felt the same, not entirely believing that here you sat, watching the man that you loved kiss your hand and lean back in his chair like this was the most normal thing in the world to have happened, the only thing indicating otherwise was the slight shake in his own hand that stayed laced with yours.

Carlos was then directing his attention back to the crowd of journalists, all still shocked at what they had just witnessed, no one expecting their day to have gone like this.

“Sorry about that, you were asking a question about being brave on track?”

______

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[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Christmas Reruns 2023 Day 15: The Yuletide Challenge (2/3)

Christmas Reruns 2023 Day 15: The Yuletide Challenge (2/3)

Merry Christmas if you celebrate it and happy holidays if you don’t!  One of the things I love about Christmas is watching reruns of all the old classic Christmas movies–Christmas is a big time for nostalgia.  A few years ago, I decided to incorporate that tradition into my fandom life and post my CS holiday reruns.  So here you go!  Enough holiday (mostly) fluff to get you to New Year’s Day. (With a new story posting on Christmas Day.)

Rating: G

Word Count: 1455

Other chapters:  1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Killian watched the gorgeous blonde walk away from him, her strides purposeful and decisive.  He grinned to himself as he finished his last shot, settled his tab and headed back to his lonely apartment.  When he’d left home that night, he’d hoped merely for enough rum to dull the ever-present pain and loneliness this time of year inevitably brought ever since it had happened. 

What he’d gotten instead was a lifeline.  Emma Swan may have believed she was (rather unwillingly if he didn’t miss his guess) fulfilling the requirements of her sister-in-law’s holiday project, but in a lot of ways, she’d been his savior on this cold winter’s night.

Five years past in early December, Killian’s whole world had crashed around him.  He’d had his share of pain and heartache throughout his childhood—his mother dying when he was barely old enough to remember her, his father running off and leaving him and Liam—but he also had joy.  He and Liam had been inseparable since the loss of their parents.  Liam had been the best brother any lad could ever hope to have—as much a surrogate father as a brother.

Then six years ago, he’d met the woman he believed to be the love of his life—Milah.  They’d had a quick whirlwind of a romance, and just before that fateful day of the accident, Killian had made up his mind to propose.

It was supposed to be a magical night.  Liam was in town for the weekend, and the plan was for the brothers and Milah to purchase a Christmas tree and decorate Killian’s apartment.  Only they never made it to the Christmas tree farm.  A drunk driver had hit them head on, killing Liam and Milah instantly and crushing his hand so badly it couldn’t be saved.

Killian took a deep breath as he opened the door to his bare, cheerless apartment.  It wouldn’t do to dwell on those painful memories any longer.  There was no going back, no changing what had happened.

Instead, he focused on long, silky blonde hair, jaded green eyes, and luscious legs shown to their full effect thanks to a short dress and high heels.  Emma Swan was quite possibly the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, but there was more to the instant attraction he felt toward her than merely her beauty.  There was a pain and brokenness about her that called out to him.  A lost boy could, after all, recognize a lost girl.

Swan may very well plan to save him from holiday blues, but he sensed he may be able to perform the same service to her.  Perhaps while she worked to bring him Yuletide cheer, he could work to knit together the pieces of her broken heart.

For the first time in five years, Killian was actually looking forward to the holiday season.

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

Emma sat staring at her cell phone for long moments.  She’d gotten as far as unlocking the thing and typing in Killian’s number before she froze.  Why was this so difficult?  Killian was just some stranger in a bar she had to do 3 more good deeds for, that was it.

It wasn’t like she felt any kind of connection to this guy.  It wasn’t like she was considering a relationship or something with him.  He was just a hot guy she had to do nice things for.  That was it.

So why was her instinct to run going into overdrive?

Emma growled, calling herself every kind of idiot she could think of.  Just get it over with, Emma.  She’d do her stupid good deeds, and then Killian “Hook” Jones would be in her rearview mirror.

After another deep, cleansing breath, Emma pressed the dial button and then held her breath until she heard his deep, sexy “Aye”.

“Hey, yeah, it’s Emma,” she said quickly before she could talk herself out of it.  “You know, from the bar?  The one taking the Yuletide challenge?”

His low chuckle did things to her.  Things that were most definitely not PG rated.

“I assure you, darling, there’s no chance I would forget you.”

“Yeah, whatever, Romeo,” she said dryly.

He laughed again, and Emma found her lips ticking up at the sound in spite of herself.  “So, I figure I need to cross another good deed off my list, since it’s nearly the end of the second week of December.  So what nice thing do you want me to do for you?”

“Well….” he said, drawing the word out in a way that made her heart race.

“What purely platonic thing do you want me to do for you?” she amended hastily.

He laughed again.  That sound really should be banned.  But after a beat of silence, he seemed to sober.  “There is one thing, I feel I really should do, and having someone to help truly would be a kindness.”

“Yeah?  What’s that?”

“I…I need to put up a tree, decorate the apartment,” he said, a strange hesitancy in his voice.

“It’s December 15, and you haven’t put your Christmas tree up?!” she asked, incredulous.

There was silence on the other end of the phone for a beat…then another.  When Killian finally answered, there was a heaviness in his voice Emma didn’t understand.  “I’ve…not been able to face the prospect of Christmas, and particularly decorating, for some time now.”

He was in pain, Emma could hear that clearly in his voice.  “Look, if it’s too painful or whatever, we don’t have to…”

“No, Swan, it’s quite alright,” Killian said.  “I think perhaps it’s time I attempt to put the past behind me and find joy again in the season.”

“Well if you’re sure…”

“I am,” he said decisively.  “Meet me at Granny’s tomorrow and we can make arrangements.”

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

Killian took a step back and looked up at the tree.  Twinkling lights, colorful ornaments, a star at the top, it was gorgeous.  “I think we did rather well for ourselves, Swan, if I do say so myself.”

“Hey, when I put my mind to something, I’m all in,” she said, surveying their handiwork.

“So I’ve noticed,” he said with a grin.  “I’ve never seen someone pursue a Christmas tree with quite that much zeal.  I do believe the Christmas tree farmer is still quaking in his boots.”

Emma laughed, the sound washing over him like a warm blanket on a cold night.  “What can I say?” she asked.  “The price the guy was asking for this stupid tree was highway robbery.  What kind of a good deed doer would I be if I let him soak you like that?”

“My wallet thanks, you, love.”

She grinned back at him, and his heart turned over.  She must have seen something in his eyes, because she immediately withdrew into herself.

“Well, anyway…” she said awkwardly.  “Good deed number 2 crossed off the list, right?”

He wanted to ask her to stay, ask her to have dinner with him, find some pretense, any pretense to remain in her presence, but he knew her.  Already, after only one afternoon and a few minutes in a bar, he could read her like an open book.  A serious declaration of his blossoming feelings for her would do nothing but make her run.  Far better to fall back on his tried and true innuendo instead.

“I’m afraid I can’t agree to that, Swan,” he said with an exaggerated wounded look.

She grinned, placing one hand on a shapely hip.  “Yeah?  Why’s that?”

“Quite simply because the decorating is not at an end,” he said.  “I’ve yet to hang the sprig of mistletoe I obtained at the farm.  I rather think it’s only good form of you to stay as I hang it, and then help me…christen it.”

She laughed, the joyous sound bringing a genuine smile to his face.  “Killian, you just never stop, do you?”

He shook his head.  “Why should I stop when my nonsense brings such joy to your face, love?”

She dropped her eyes, took a small step back, and Killian worried he’d put a bit too much genuine emotion into that last question.  “Swan…I’m sorry; I didn’t mean…”

She looked up at him, the smile on her face forced, unnatural.  “It’s fine.  Look, I’ve got to get going.  I’ll, um, talk to you later for the last couple of good deeds.”

Killian sighed as the door closed behind her.  Tonight hadn’t ended as he’d hoped, but as she said, there were still two good deeds left.  Two more opportunities to convince Emma Swan to take a chance on the feelings obviously brewing between the two of them.

NEXT CHAPTER->

[captainswanwriter]

Kansas - Missing Scene - One Shot

Summary: This story takes place in those moments that were missing from Season 3 Episode 20, “Kansas”, right after Emma saves Killian from his dry-land drowning mishap. The writers/producers/directors really knew how to set up CS fans to leave them wanting more moments, but then never gave them to us. This is one of many that I think about a lot and wish we had more of Emma and Killian. Of course, this is more whump and fluff than television allows for, but a writer/fan can always dream…and write it themselves. Haha!

Author’s Note: Of course, none of these characters belong to me, no matter how much I wish they did. I thank ABC for giving us this sandbox to play in. 

--------------------

“Swan,” Hook begs Emma. “What did you do?”

Emma sits back on her heels and takes a breath. “I, um…”

Hook pushes himself up from the muddy ground as best he can. Emma pulls him up into a sitting position and leans his body against the pool's outer edge that nearly drowned him. More water comes out of his lungs as he violently twists to his side to cough. The coughing becomes so harsh that his body convulses as he gags on the remaining water aggravating his throat, but nothing comes up. Emma can sense the panic rushing through him.

“Just take it easy, Hook. Try and focus on breathing.” She rubs her hand over his shaking back to comfort him.

With the coughing finally under control, he repeats his question. “What did you do, Swan?” Looking into her eyes, he understands the answer and is unhappy.

“Now, how are we supposed to defeat Zelena?”

“Was I supposed to let you die?”

“If it meant preserving your magic to keep everyone else safe from the witch? Yes!”

“Well, it’s done.”

Emma stands up and reaches her hand down to Hook. He looks up at her solemnly, still upset with her decision to save his life.

“Come on, Killian. Let’s get back to the hospital. Hopefully, the baby hasn’t come yet, and there’s still time.”

She pulls him up from the muddy ground, but he sways slightly once on his feet. Emma grabs his bicep to steady him.

“Hook? Everything okay?”

He shakes his head slightly and takes some slow, shallow breaths. He touches his hand to his chest.

“A little light-headed, love. And there’s this tightness when I try to breathe.”

Emma softens her expression so as not to worry him. She knows that none of what he is experiencing is a good sign. 

“You drowned, Hook. Let’s get you back to the hospital, and we can have Whale look at you.”

Hook nods slightly in agreement and walks alongside her to the car. He stumbles slightly, and before he can object, Emma loops his arm around her, and she supports him the rest of the way. They reach the car, and she pulls a blanket from the trunk to help keep him warm once she gets him settled.

“Thank you, Swan. Truly, I…”

“Shh…just try to stay warm until we return to the hospital. I just hope Zelena doesn’t get there before we do.”

Hook lifts the heavy blanket under his chin and thinks warm thoughts. Emma blasts as much heat as the little yellow bug can provide. Hook’s drowsy eyes can no longer stay open between the heat and the blanket's warmth. He finally lets them close briefly, only to wake moments later.

He opens his eyes when he feels his body shift and cool air breezing towards him. Emma opens the door as she tries to maneuver him out of his seat.

“Hook, you need to help me out here.”

He forces his body to respond to her commands and quickly moves from the car.

“I’m alright, Swan. I’m a little…a lot, wet, but other than that, I’m fine. Let’s get to your parents.”

Emma approaches the front desk and asks for Snow White and Prince Charming. A nurse directs, “Second floor, room 216 - end of the hall on your left.” 

“Thank you,” Emma says, “And he needs medical attention.” She points to Hook while speaking with the nurse, but Hook is already heading toward the stairwell. 

“Never mind.” she rolls her eyes, saying, “Excuse us.”

They head up the stairs, and at the top of the second-floor platform, Hook stops to press on his chest as another cough rips through him.

“Hook…” he ignores her and focuses on relaxing his body.

“Killian!” she says, louder now, twisting his body to face hers. “Please, let Dr. Whale check out your lungs.��

“Swan,” he says, clearly struggling between his words. “I’ll be fine. Do you think this is the first time I have taken in some water in my unnaturally long life?”

“So, you’ve drowned before?”

“Ay…not, on dry land, but yes.”

“Well, still you should….”

There is a commotion coming from Mary Margaret’s hallway. Emma hears her father and Regina, voices raised. Emma pushes past Hook, and he follows behind.

“What’s going on here?” Emma asks.

____________________________________________

After Zelena’s defeat, everyone returns to the hospital to present Snow with her rescued newborn. Snow, Charming, and Henry are all fawning over the new baby. At the same time, Emma leans against the doorframe and admires her beautiful family from afar—a gentle smile of appreciation tugs at the corners of her mouth.

“I never thought I’d see one of those.”

Emma chuckles at Killian’s observation. “It’s called a baby.” 

“No, Swan. The smile.”

Emma smiles wider at Hook and says, “We won.”

Hook looks into her eyes as he hesitates to say what he needs to say. “With all of the chaos, I never got a chance to say thank you.”

“You really think I’d let you drown?”

“Given our history,” he says, blushing, “can you blame me for being uncertain?”

Gesturing to her hands, he asks, “Has your power returned now that Zelena has been defeated?”

Emma looks from Hook to her hands and says, “Nope. That’s okay. I won’t need it in New York.”

The smile on Hook’s face falls away into a solemn gaze as Emma turns to walk into Snow’s hospital room. He watches the beautiful family reunion momentarily before returning to the waiting area. His breathing becomes slightly heavier than usual, so he sits in a chair. The room is spinning, and the air feels thinner than it did moments ago. A nurse walks over to him and touches his hand. It’s ice cold.

“Sir. Sir! Are you okay?”

Hook tries taking a slow, deep breath to quell nausea, but the air gets trapped, and he starts coughing. In between each cough, he responds to the woman sitting before him.

“Can’t breathe, love.”

The young nurse runs over to the desk and speaks into the PA system calling for a doctor. Hearing the commotion, Emma comes up the hallway and sees Hook falling out of his chair, looking paler than he had moments ago. She kneels in front of him and grabs his hand.

“Hook. What’s happening?”

The nurse answers before he can. “Trouble breathing, and he’s ice cold. I paged a doctor, and we will bring him to an exam room.”

“I can carry him.” Emma stands and brings Hook’s left arm around her shoulders so she can support him. His clothes are still damp from earlier in the day, and his body is ice cold.

“Miss, that’s not….”

“Which room?”

“We need to wait for the….”

“What room?” Emma asks louder.

The nurse rolls her eyes. “Room 201”.

Emma whispers to Hook, “Hold on to me,” she walks him to the room and gets him settled on the bed before another coughing fit wracks his body. Once he calms down, the nurse checks his vitals. She can hear the rattle in his lungs as she listens with the stethoscope. 

“Sherriff, can you tell me anything about his condition? When did his symptoms start?”

“He, uh, drowned earlier today. I revived him, but he couldn’t have been unconscious for more than five minutes.”

The nurse looks at her gently, “Sometimes that’s all it takes.” She continues her physical examination of Hook, pressing all around his rib cage. “Did you administer CPR?”

Realizing how complicated it would be to explain how he was cursed and she just needed to kiss him, she goes with a more straightforward answer. “Once I could reach him, he was alert and choking on the water in his lungs. I turned him on his side to help him.”

“Okay, so no cracked ribs, at least. I’ll note that and get the doctor in here right away.”

Emma moves closer to Hook and holds his hand in her own. “Thank you.”

Hook lifts his eyes to meet Emma. “Sorry, love. I know you were spending time with your new brother.”

She shakes her head at him, saying, “It’s okay, Hook. I’ll have plenty of time with him before I leave for New York. We need to make sure you’re okay. I told you we should have had Whale look at you.”

Quietly he says, “You were right, Swan, as always.” Exhausted, Hook closes his eyes while they wait on Dr. Whale. He falls asleep almost immediately. Emma pulls a chair alongside his bed and grasps his hand so he knows she is still with him.

Gently, she whispers, “Rest, Killian. I need you to be okay.” Hesitantly, she lifts her other hand to a stray hair hanging loose over his forehead and brushes it back. Her hand rests at the base of his skull, and she can’t help but continuously twirl her fingers through his soft hair. His face softens slightly as he sleeps.

—------------

A little while later, Dr. Whale finishes his examination of Hook.

“Well, the good news is that you’ll live.”

Emma rolls her eyes. “And the bad news…?”

“Bad news is that he needs downtime to recover. Even though he was only down a few minutes, he’s experiencing a lot of difficulty breathing – which is normal – but he needs to rest.”

“I told you we should have had him look at you sooner, Hook!” He rolls his eyes and turns to look back at Dr. Whale.

“So, Whale…what else?” Emma asks.

“Well, he might show signs of fatigue more quickly. And behavioral changes are common too. I would recommend avoiding alcohol for the time being.”

Now, Hook interrupts. “Well, I hardly think that that’s….”

 Another fit of gagging coughs wracks Hook’s body before he can finish his sentence. Emma’s eyes widen as she tries to figure out to help him. She helps him sit forward and supports his back throughout this episode. Once it seems like his body is calming, she helps him lay back against the pillows and makes him more comfortable.

“Hook…I want to keep you here overnight to ensure you’re okay. It isn’t long ago that you cracked several ribs, and now this drowning incident…it’s a lot for the lungs to handle.”

Hook looks over at Emma, and she only glares back, telling him he will be staying.

“Looks like I’m staying the night, Whale.”

“Great. Well, I’ll have the nurses bring you something more comfortable, some extra blankets…maybe a robe again. It gets drafty here, especially at night.”

“Thanks, Whale.” Emma puts a hand on Hook’s shoulder and smiles gently.

“Swan…love, you don’t need to stay with me. I’ll be fine.”

Emma is skeptical of his motives for sending her away from his room, but she trusts him to listen to Whale.

“Now that I know you’re okay, I’m visiting my new brother briefly. I’ll stop in again before I leave, though.”

Hook nods and gives Emma a scrunched smile, wishing she would stay with him. The nurse comes in with the items Dr. Whale asked for, and they help him get set up for the night.

A while later, Emma returns to the room with David coming to check on Hook. They walk through the door only to find Hook asleep. David signals that he will return to Mary Margaret’s room, and Emma waves good night.

Quietly, she moves to tiptoe back out of the room but spots a blanket and pillow on the tray in front of his bed. She removes her winter coat and hangs it off the back of the plastic chair. With her pillow propped behind her back and the blanket gently draped across her body, a series of yawns and rapid blinks indicate her own exhaustion after today's events. As she dozes off, she looks at Hook and whispers, “I’m right here, Killian. I’m not going anywhere.”

THE END.

[teamhook]

Captain Swan Writers Spotlight

Hello, lovelies. I've decided to do a spotlight on Captain Swan writers. Fandom is not what it used to be, and we are lucky to have such a talented group. I want to highlight a new/underrated writer per post. We have new people, and I try to keep up, but sometimes I fail. Please, join me in showing them love. If you guys have any suggestions, let me know!

Up to the spotlight is:

TUMBLR

AO3 WORKS LINK

In the Offing ~ Completed MC

Summary: AU - Storybrooke - Emma Swan is drafted to help Liam Jones clear his brother’s name in the disappearance of a former flame. As she digs deeper into the rash of missing person cases, she risks losing more than just her heart as she uncovers the truth.

Oh this was her first fic in fandom and the one I stalked her on AO3 in a good way to join us here. Guys this story is amazing!

--

Five Things that Didn’t Happen to Cinderella and Her Prince (Even in the Weird Disney Sequels) ~ Five Short Stories  Completed

Summary:

Five short stories that give an alternate ending to the Cinderella fairy tale

This was before I decided to only write happy endings.

First one is from the Prince’s POV

I only read CS stories but this does look interesting. I might take a chance with it.

--

Killian, Persuaded ~ MC Completed

Summary: AU — Storybrooke — When a stunning betrayal forces Killian Jones to reevaluate his life, he finds himself unexpectedly rescued by his estranged brother. Traveling to Maine to meet the family he didn’t know existed, he immediately comes face-to-face with the woman he pushed away a decade before. This time around he’s determined to be a better man and, if he’s lucky, win back the only woman he ever loved.

Basically a Hallmark movie with OUAT characters.

This is such a great story. It was such a ride waiting for the update.

--

Something Suspiciously Like Hope ~ One-Shot

Summary: The moment Captain Hook opens himself up to the possibility of love

I thought this was a sweet little story.

Annd I know she will be posting a story soon. Keep an eye out for it.

--

@allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 @andiirivera @anothersworld @apiratewhopines @artistic-writer @batana54 @beckettj @bethacaciakay @bixisarusher @branlovestowrite @brooke-to-broch @captainodonoghue @carpedzem @chasedancer17 @cocohook38 @courtorderedcake @darkcolinodonorgasm @deckerstarblanche @deckerstarblanche @djlbg @donteattheappleshook @dovelyheart @elizabeethan @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @holdingoutforapiratehero @hollyethecurious @hookedonapirate @hookedonaswanprincess @hookedonhiddles @ilovemesomekillianjones @imlaxdris71 @itsfabianadocarmo @jarienn972 @jennjenn615 @jonesfandomfanatic @jrob64 @justanother-unluckysoul @k-leemac @karlyfr13s @kday426 @killian-will-do @klynn-stormz @kmomof4 @kwistowee @kymbersmith-90 @laschatzi @lassluna @let-it-raines @lfh1226-linda @lonelyspectator12 @mariakov81 @motherkatereloyshipper @officerrogers @ohmakemeahercules @onceratheart18 @pirateherokillian @purplehawkcaptain @queen-serena88 @resident-of-storybrooke @revanmeetra87 @rumdrum91 @sailtoafarawayland @scientificapricot @scribomaniac @searchingwardrobes @seriouslyhooked @shardminds @shireness-says @snowbellewells @sotangledupinit @spacekrulesbians @spartanguard @stahlop @superchocovian @swanslieutenant @tehgreeneyes @the-darkdragonfly @thejollyroger-writer @thepirateandhisson @therealstartraveller776 @thesschesthair @thislassishooked @thisonesatellite @tiganasummertree @tomeandflickcorner @ultraluckycatnd @veryverynotgoodwrites @wefoundloveunderthelight @wellhellotragic @whimsicallyenchantedrose @winterbaby89 @winterbythesea​ @xarandomdreamx @xemmaloveskillianx @xsajx @zaharadessert​

[snowbellewells]

@welllpthisishappening This was a lovely fic to read right off this morning. I love the spit in canon you chose to start this from (Why didn’t we get to see them order takeout and cuddle up by the fire and just talk without interruption in canon?!?) Thank you for finally giving us - and then- that chance to decompress and heal.

I love how you write these calmer, everyday domestic moments between Killian and Emma, and how real and grounding they feel l, despite the fairytale world still swirling all around them. Even as Emma’s vision of the hooded threat and the weight of those shears hanging over them, it still has a sweet and cozy and lovely quality to it as a whole story. You sense Emma has too much she still wants to know and experience with Killian to let things be cut short now.

There are tons of lovely passages here - too many to pick a single favorite, but it deserves to be said all the same. Thanks so much for gifting us with this missing moment! ❤️❤️❤️

falling feels like flying ['til the bone crush]

Someone should revoke her title. 

They’re trying, Emma supposes. Inevitable death probably means people can’t call her savior anymore, but they shouldn’t call her that now and that’s almost entirely because of what an absolute and complete liar she is. Telling Killian she would have done the same after he admitted he didn’t get rid of the shears isn’t her most massive lie, although it might be her most ridiculous. And they both know it’s not true. She wouldn’t do the same thing, she has. More than once. 

AN: That gif has nothing to do with the story! Here is approximately 3.5K where I once again force Emma and Killian to acknowledge their trauma. Not in the Underworld this time, though! So maybe we’re all evolving here. I blame this gif set, which I saw this morning and felt compelled to write something about. Maybe that evolution is also a lie, actually. 

———

“I lied.” Killian hums, exhaustion clinging to the sound, and Emma understands that. Less so why she’s talking right now, but neither one of those words seemed particularly interested in preserving the quiet calm of this particular moment, and she’s never been a lightweight quite like this. In more ways than one, she supposes. Hazy thoughts drift through her brain, muddled as it is by buttered rum and the steady flicker of flames in the fireplace because naturally this is the sort of house that has multiple fireplaces, and she burrows her face closer. 

To Killian’s chest. 

Takes a deep breath, not quite slow, but maybe a little greedy, and they ordered both things. Pizza and Chinese, half-finished egg rolls and beheaded slices of cheese with extra peppers strewn across the coffee table because Emma always likes that extra bit of crust and Killian’s nothing if not a frustratingly endearing sort of pushover. 

With her, especially. 

She closes her eyes. 

“I lied,” Emma repeats, “in the hospital, I mean. Wrong verb tense.” “You’re not making any sense at all, darling.”

Her nose must be cold — if the way Killian tenses as soon as it brushes his skin is any indication, but Emma knows it’s far more than that and far deeper than that and she might be the world’s biggest idiot. Looming death does that to a person, she supposes. 

Breathing isn’t particularly easy. And that’s not only because she ate four pizza slices worth of crust. Still, using death as an excuse again seems like an emotional crutch and an unreasonable reason, her muddled mind capable of clinging to every single letter in that particular endearment. It might be her favorite. 

She’s not sure she’s ever told him that. 

Stupid, really. 

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