#i really do have a shit memory. had to scroll through the lit tag to see which blogs i recognise 😭

[prrcyjacksons]

every month of 2022:

tagged by @boguskazofia to post my favorite or most popular post from each month this year (it’s okay to skip months). 

january : The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue edit

february : Prince Wrath edit (KOTW)

march : Kaz and Inej edit (SOC)

april : Emilia Di Carlo edit (KOTW)

may : Book Lovers edit

june : Emma Carstairs edit (TSC)

july : Fang Runin edit (The Poppy War)

august : The Hunger Games edit

september : Percy Jackson Disney Trailer edit

october : Inej Ghafa edit (SOC)

november : Kaz Brekker edit (SOC)

december : not a book edit but This gif i made for bridgerton week

Tagging (no pressure ofc) : @nina-zcnik @positivewitch @achingly-shy @smithmatts @mrmalcolmslist @she @dlndjarin @dallaswinstons @intofolklores @rinadragomir @ahiranyas @fay-lans @hvrrycameron @wylanvnneck @oscarwilds AND ANYONE ELSE WHO WANTS TO!!! I HAVE A SHIT MEMORY PLEASE DO THIS IF YOU MAKE EDITS/GIFS/ART/ETC

[harleysarchive]

Among You and Me - Corpse Husband x reader oneshot

Fandom: Corpse Husband, youtubers Warning: Swearing, me being in a good mood when I wrote it so a happy, positive reader, alcohol, hangovers, comfidence boost Pairing: Corspe x reader Summary: You got some extra confidence after having a couple of drinks and write a message to Corpse during his live stream, he answeres you messages and everything continues from there.

Next >

A/N: I was in a super good mood when I started to write this and it shows, I’m sorry if it’s annoying and I don’t know if it’s shit but yeaah. Enjoy! :D

You were watching Corpse Husbands stream among us and was just having a good time. You had had a couple of drinks before the stream so you were in such a great mood. You melted every time he laughed because he couldn’t do the card swipe and just thought of how adorable he was. In your intoxicated mindset you got a confidence boost and opened the stream chat and also instagram. In the stream chat you donated 10$ and wrote “you are the most adorable person on this planet and you deserve the world! Thank you for exciting, love y/n” and hit enter, and also doing the same on Instagram on private messages.

He won’t see that, you thought to yourself and turned on some music to match your good mood and after a while forgetting about your stream that was on. Some days life is just great!

You had fallen asleep and woke up with a hangover, all the positive feelings you had yesterday were gone and now you just wanted to stay in bed all there with some aspirins. Looking at your phone seeing that nothing interesting had happened. You were scrolling through your feed on instagram and saw that you had an unanswered message. You opened it and saw that it was from Corpse.

You flew up in your bed and were staring at your phone.

I can’t believe he answered me, you said. Your hands were shaking and you were too nervous to open the message. Maybe he was annoyed with you for messaging him. Nooo he seems like a nice guy so I don’t think he is.

You opened the message and it read:

“Thank you for your kind words! I saw your donation and the message, means a lot 🖤”

You buried your face into the pillow and screamed for all that you were worth. He answered. You also felt ridiculous for reacting like this but there is no hindering the fangirl when she is out.

Your fingers were shaking but you wanted to reply so badly.

“Thank you! I can’t believe that you actually answered or noticed my message, it made my day honestly. Can’t wait for more content from you!” You hit send and left the bed. You had things to do today and if you were home you were only going to look at your phone all day to see if he would answer you. So to not get tempted you left your phone at home.

You came back to your apartment in the afternoon and we’re dying to check your messages. So you unlocked your phone and went straight to messages. Nothing. You felt a pang of disappointment but you tried to not dwell on it. He had probably many girls messaging him how much they love him and so on. You went to the kitchen and started to cook some dinner. But when you were preparing some vegetables you got a ding from your phone. You went over and saw that you had a message on Instagram. From Corpse. Your heart first stopped and then sped up like crazy. He answered you again! Wtf?!

“That's so kind of you to say, thank you! There will be a new stream tomorrow :)”

“Omg I’m gonna die” you said. Well if you died now you would be okay with it because you had been noticed by Corpse not once but twice.

“Yay can’t wait! I will be glued to the screen!” You answered and immediately felt embarrassed by your response.

Two days later you were waiting for the stream to begin. You had bought some of your favorite ice-cream in honor for tonight. The stream started and you heard Corpse say multiple times that he was super nervous and a shitty impostor. You felt your heart melt for him, he is so sweet and precious. You donated money to him and wrote “you don’t have to be nervous, you are doing great! It’s super entertaining! Love y/n” and hit send. You saw your donation in the chat.

“”you don’t have to be nervous, you are doing great! It’s super entertaining! Love (y/n)” thank you (y/n), that means a lot to hear right now. And I remember your picture from Instagram. Nice to see that you are watching the stream.”

The ice-cream you were about to eat dropped to the floor and you just sat there with an open mouth. He remembered your picture. HE FUCKING REMEMBERED YOUR PICTURE!

The rest of the stream was a fog in your memory because you were still stuck on the moment that he remembered you from your profile picture. Nothing could top that. Nothing. When the stream ended you turned of your computer and were of to bed. But there was no way in hell that you were going to fall alseep after something like that. Your phone lit up again and you saw that you had a new message from instagram. You opened up the app and it was from Corpse!

“I hope you liked the stream today :)” he wrote and again your heart raced like crazy. 

“I did it was super entertaining to watch! I think you are an incredible impostor.” you hit send. Not long after you got a reply.

“Thanks, I am very nervous during the streams and I hope that is not annoying or it bothering those who are watching it.”

“Not at all, well at least for me. I think it makes you more genuine when you confess that you can get nervous even though you are a big youtuber 😊”

 “Well I’m not a big youtuber... but it’s nice to read all your kind words in the chat. It makes me happy.”

“I’m glad that we can help you feel better, and I mean every word I’m sending you.”

You saw that he started to reply, but you had to go to sleep so you turn off the phone and closed your eyes. Surprisingly enough you fell asleep quite quickly, and woke up by the sun hitting your face. Fall has jsut begun and the leaves were turning every beautiful colour of red, yellow and orange. When you brain had woken up more you remembered that Corpse had started to reply to your message. You quickly grabbed your phone and went on instagram. A new message, 8 hours ago. 

Shit, you thought and opened it. It was just a smiley face and nothing else. A little disappointed but then you saw the conversation that the two of you had had. You actually talked to him and he had replied instantly. Your brain must’ve given you some weird confidence and stable fingers at that moment. You didn’t really know what to reply so you just let it be and you didn’t want to annoy him with spamming his dm’s either - but you really, really wanted to.

Corpse POV.

Another day and another sleepless night. That is just my life right now. But the streams helped them make it a little less agonizing. Especially the nice comments I get from everyone and the conversation I had with one of the fans. What was her name again? (Y/N). Right. I wonder if she has answered my message.

I opened up instagram and opened our conversation. Read but no answer. To be fair I only sent a smiley to her. But... Why am I feeling so anxious that she left me on read?

“Yooo, care to hang out today?” Dave sent a message. I answered with a sure and locked my phone and waited for Dave to arrive to my house. But my mind kept on going back to why she didn’t answer me back. Well I know why, but I didn’t like that the conversation were over so quick. 

Dave entered my house and we hung out for a while but he could sense that something was bothering me.

“Hey man, you okay?”

I snapped out of my thought and looked at him. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Except from the usual shit.”

“You sure? You seem a little... lost in thoughts perhaps? Is something bothering you?”

I took a deep breath and shook my head.

“Not even the kind girl from your streams?” he asked with a knowing smirk on his face. I lost all the colour on my face. HOW DID HE KNOW?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?”

“Not even that you recognized her picture from instagram? Like that you haven’t talked to her there?”

Fuck...

“Who is she?”

“A fan that contacted me and were very kind with her words. And I replied to her and after that we have been messaging each other here and there... but she left me on read last night so I guess that’s over...”

“What did you say to her?”

“I sent a smiley because I was too nervous to say anything else.”

Dave made the biggest and loudest face palm. It must’ve hurt his head. 

“You idiot... You can’t expect a reply if you only send her a smiley...”

“I know, but I got nervous.”

“Are you following her?”

“No... Not yet at least.” I said and took up my phone again and went on her profile. It was private. Of course. I hoovered over the follow button but I didn’t dare to press it. Dave gave me a thumbs up and I pressed the follow button. 

Your POV.

You were watching a Among Us highlight video on youtube when your instagram told you that you had a notification. You opened it and saw that Corpse had requested an invite to follow your profile. CORPSE WANTED TO FOLLOW YOU. Holyshitholyshitholyshit. What is even happening?! Of course you accepted it and you started to type a message to him. 

“Welcome to my little boring world. Hope you like what you see 😅”

You could see him typing something.

“I very much do ;)”

A/N: I really enjoyed writing this and I couldn’t stop. It was difficult to get started but after that it was fun :D 

TAGS:

@fanworrior @wibblytimey

[ahtsumu]

HEAVEN (IS A PLACE ON EARTH WITH YOU)

MAJOR SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 120

pairing: nanami kento x gn!reader

tags: angst, fluff, chicken soup for the soul ; wc: 2k

synopsis: he lives.

Nanami Kento wakes up with the taste of ash in his mouth.

His fingers twitch first–– the ones on his right hand tighten their grip on the handle of his sword when they recognise the familiar object. The ones on his left feel the bumpy ridges on the floor. Tenji blocks. What?

And then his eyes open, blinking rapidly as the fluorescent-lit world comes into focus. Only when they set on the severed arm next to his head does Nanami remember where he is. Why he’s holding his sword. What he was doing before everything went dark.

Meiji-Jingumae Station.

Instantly, the blond sits up–– feeling his spine pop as he does–– and scans the empty subway station for a patchwork doll-looking spirit. The sound of his neck cracking as his razor-sharp gaze rotates left and right echoes through the station. Oddly enough, the popping joints don’t feel like byproducts of time and age. For the first time, his stiff bones feel like evidence of unuse.

Nanami Kento feels like a pair of ballet shoes that need to be broken-in before being worn. New.

He hasn’t felt like this in years.

Mahito isn’t here. Excluding the maimed bodies of ex-humans that surround Nanami’s sitting figure, the subway station is completely empty. Is it over? A sinking feeling unfolds in Nanami’s stomach as he runs through the possible outcomes of the fight. The worst case scenario is that everyone is dead, he thinks as he brushes the dust off his clothes and stands up, still on alert for any unwelcome surprises. Nanami pauses as he considers what the best case would be, then.

It’s so foolishly optimistic he’s afraid to put it in words.

But miracles happen. The fact that he’s alive is proof of that. Well… Nanami hovers a hand over his wrist and pauses. Does he really want to know? This must be how Orpheus felt bringing Eurydice back from the underworld, he muses, letting his hand drop back to his side. Afraid to have been cheated of resurrection, yet even more afraid to check.

A thought, wrapped in hazard red and flashing all over, suddenly pushes itself to the front of Nanami’s whirring mind. It’s not necessarily a question; in fact, he doesn’t even know what he needs to know about you right now.

The whole thought is just two words and it’s your name.

A second thought puts a calming hand on the first one’s shoulder. It’s alright. You’re at home. You’re probably curled up in bed right now, a book in one hand and a steaming mug of chamomile tea in another. Nanami smiles softly and imagines crawling into bed beside you, falling asleep with you in his arms. That’d be nice.

He’s done enough, hasn’t he?

It’s time to go home.

ii.

“Nanami Kento.”

His head jerks up at the sound of his name, but he fails to pinpoint where it’s coming from. Even if he could, it’s not like he’d be able to see who said it.

Everything is black.

“Am I dead?” he rasps. His voice echoes through the space, each morpheme layering over another like an endless canon.

“Yes. But you don’t have to be.”

Regardless of the events that had occurred in Shibuya, it’s still jarring to see the heart of Tokyo–– or at least, one of the hearts of Tokyo–– at a standstill, looking like a ghost town. Nanami’s sharp blue eyes dart around the intersection, noting how much worse the destruction the city has been dealt looks under daylight.

Daylight. He freezes. It was nighttime when he arrived at the station. The fight’s probably over now. How long has he been out? Frantically, Nanami feels for his phone in his trousers' pockets, muttering a string of curses when he realises that the device isn’t in any of them.

Deep in his left pocket, however, his fingers brush against a 10,000 yen note and a thin red card with the words “Pleasure Doing Business with You” engraved in gold.

Nanami hails a taxi back.

iii.

The thing about souls is that they exist before the body does.

So they also die after the body does.

And that means a soul can live without a body. (For how long is another discussion.) But the fact of the matter is that after the human body’s death, the soul remains living for a period of time. And in that time, humans are most connected to the Universe.

Some can even speak to it.

Fewer can bargain with it.

“A binding vow with the Universe itself.”

Nanami nods. “I have…” an image of your face flickers behind his eyes “…unfinished business on Earth.”

“The hero cheats death for love.”

“I’m not a hero,” he replies firmly, “I’m just a regular guy with some irregular abilities. And I’m not cheating death.” He wonders how to phrase his next words without coming off as an ingrate. “The fact that I’m here right now means you planned this all along.”

It’s 8:27 AM on November 1st. That’s the date on your phone. Nanami found it sandwiched in the crack between the sofa cushions after looking around the first floor for your familiar figure. You also have around a hundred missed calls and even more unread texts. “I’m so sorry for your loss”s and “are you okay?”s clutter the screen, all from names he recognises. As he scrolls through the notifications, it becomes clear why you’d left your phone in the sofa.

At some point, the “sorry”s become oppressive.

So you know he’s dead. Or, he quickly corrects, you think he’s still dead. Thankfully, he was only gone for a few hours. Maybe that’ll make his unexpected appearance easier to process. Nanami sets your phone down on the coffee table and silently walks up the stairs, making a beeline for the bedroom. Slowly, he pushes the half-closed door open.

The curtains are shut and messily so, like you’d just yanked the fabric once on each side towards the middle before moving on. The thinnest streams of light peek through the cracks you’d left in your haste, each seeming to stop and pool at the figure curled up on the queen-sized bed in the middle of the room.

Nanami feels something cold reach for his heart and squeeze.

You’re asleep, curled into a ball wearing one of his old sweatshirts, your face buried into a pillow with discoloured streaks everywhere, likely the doing of your tears. Letting out a guilt-laden breath, Nanami treads carefully to your side and places a hand on your shoulder. He gently shakes you.

And your eyes, puffy from crying, flutter open.

They meet a familiar pair of thin blue ones.

For a moment, you just stare at the man in front of you. The sunlight coming through the curtains ricochets off Nanami’s golden hair, forming a soft halo around his head. A small–– slightly apologetic–– smile plays at the corner of his lips as he shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Ken?” you breathe, sitting up instantly.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

That can’t be him, you think as you stare up at Nanami with wide eyes and a hanging jaw.

“But Ieiri said you were burned everywhere. And your eye––” you touch your own, you don’t dare touch his “–– she said it was gone.” Ieiri had also said that there’d been a hole burnt through his chest. That Itadori saw him disintegrate with his own eyes. That he was gone forever. This can’t be Nanami.

“Yeah. I, uh, died,” the blond says, looking down at the ground. “But then I made a binding vow with the Universe and… I came back to life.”

A moment of silence passes.

“If I touch you––”

“I won’t disappear.”

“Promise?”

Nanami feels the red card in his pocket. This, he thinks, must be the reassurance Orpheus needed but never had.

“I promise.”

Your arms around his waist are a little firmer than usual but Nanami doesn’t mind. He’s just glad to be in bed beside you with the curtains drawn (properly this time), holding you closer than close, feeling your steady breath on his neck.

When your hands briefly tighten around his side as if to check that he’s still there for the tenth time that hour, Nanami grins and finally asks, “What?”

“I just… can’t believe that you’re alive,” you murmur into his chest. It’s firm–– always has been–– but the feeling of the muscle and bones pressing back against your face brings you a certain peace you never thought you’d crave. “A binding vow with the Universe… is that even possible?”

Nanami laces your fingers together. You admire how his skin buzzes against yours, each pulse of the blood pumping through his veins a reminder of his still-beating heart.

“I think it’s similar to how reality is composed of layers that show themselves depending on the viewer,” Nanami says slowly, looking up at the ceiling. “For example, humans can’t see cursed spirits. That layer only shows itself to sorcerers.”

You hum in agreement.

“And so whatever it was I made that binding vow with… I think, in that moment, it let me see through another layer of reality.”

His words hang in the air as the two of you dissect them.

“What was the deal you struck?” you ask, peering up Nanami’s face.

The weight of the red card makes itself known in his pocket. “If I tell you,” he says, shifting so that you’re at eye-level, “you can’t give me shit about it.”

You nod.

Quickly, he reveals his end of the bargain. Anticipating your disapproval right afterwards, he shifts so that his chin rests at the top of your head.

“Kento––”

“You can’t give me shit about it.”

“… Fine,” you huff with a roll of your eyes. But you’re not pleased–– and Nanami knows–– and the conversation lulls to a stop.

(Your bodies stay intertwined.)

He waits for you to speak again–– because you always do–– so he’s not surprised when, minutes later in a quiet voice, you ask, “Did you see heaven?”

Nanami pauses. Did he?

“I think I did.”

“What did it look like?”

His eyes flick down at your face before looking back up at the ceiling. And he smiles.

“Like this.”

i.

Mahito’s hand on his charred chest. Haibara. Itadori. Haibara. Itadori. Flowery words that wilt into curses. “You got it from here.” Feeling his body crumble away into dust. Blackness.

All his memories swim past his eyes. He sees his parents talking at the dinner table, his childhood friends crawling over playground equipment, the Jujutsu Tech second-years grinning as he bows in front of them, the first cursed spirit he ever exorcised, the dull-faced employees at Sachs, Itadori’s optimistic grin…

And then, you.

You with that look of concentration on your face as you sit in silence across from each other in the living room, feet propped up on the coffee table and noses buried in your respective reading materials.

You with flushed cheeks and reddened lips as he pulls away from the kiss to quip how it’s completely inappropriate for you to be interrupting him while he’s working, even if it is from home with a small smirk–– despite how he tugged you onto his lap in the first place.

You, sun-drenched and beautiful, laughing your head off in the passenger seat as he drives down the Shuto Expressway with both hands on the steering wheel, complaining again about your shit taste in music and begging you to throw on some Beatles tunes but still humming under his breath when you play another Britney song.

He’ll miss you.

Death is inevitable–– this much he and all sorcerers know–– so dying has never been a big deal to Nanami. And he’s never had a specific idea about how he’d die.

But as each moment flashes by and disappears in the periphery of his mind, Nanami realises that if death is inevitable, then dying like this, with you as the last thing he sees, is the best way to go.

Not everyone gets to die with heaven already in sight.

[captain-josslett]

Broken Melody - Part Twenty One

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen, Part Fifteen, Part Sixteen, Part Seventeen, Part Eighteen, Part Nineteen, Part Twenty...

Summary: Grammy Award winning Emma Danvers is the first to say she has a pretty good life. But what happens when it implodes around her and it looks like things will never be the same again?

Words: 6k+

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, stuff... I’m so tried my brain can’t function.

Pairings: Emma Danvers x Lena Luthor

This Part: Lena has a question she wants to ask Emma.

Here you go, I hope you enjoy! My eyes are closing as I’m trying to write this. Such fun! Please forgive the exhaustion that is showing in this part.

Thank you for reading and let me know if you wanna be tagged or any general feedback will be greatly appreciated. Please! I like knowing your thoughts.

Taglist: @finleyfray​​​, @life-is-hella-unfair​​, @natasha-danvers​​, @supergirl-writingz​​, @camslightstories​​, @thinking1bee​​, @aznblossom​​,

Lena tries to concentrate as she goes through the mountain of paperwork that has built up over the past week and a bit since the attack. Frustration flows through her when the pile never seems to decrease in size.

When the CEO finds herself reading the same line over and over Lena sighs heavily and leans back in her office chair. She lifts the tip of her thumb to her mouth and bites. Her anxiety swirling and simmering under the surface. Taking another deep breath Lena looks down at her phone. She quickly grabs it, turning her chair towards the window and opens a playlist full of Emma’s voice and video messages as well as the songs she sent. Even if it was to ask her opinion on which lyrics sound better or a simple “Good Morning love.”

The raven haired beauty scrolls through the hundreds of files before coming across one of her favourites. It was also in video form which Lena doesn’t know if it's a good thing or not. To actually see Emma talk and sing instead of just hearing her girlfriend.

“Hi Lee!” Emma’s beaming face fills the screen. Her wavy blonde hair is down and she’s wearing Lena’s National City University sweatshirt she had sneakily packed into her bag and taken on the tour.

Immediately tears start to creep into Lena’s eyes when she hears Emma’s voice. Realising how much she misses her love’s laugh, the changes of tone as the blonde would talk about the different things that have happened to her during the day. The tender way Emma would softly whisper her name as she was falling asleep.

“I hope your day is going great! Well, I’m back in the studio-” Emma motions around her to the dimly lit recording studio and the microphone equipment next to her. “-and I was thinking about you, I mean, when am I not thinking about you?!” Emma chuckles and Lena can’t help but lift the corner of her mouth up in a small smile as a lone tear rolls down her cheek. “Anyway, this song came to my mind and I immediately needed to record it for you.”

Emma lifts her guitar up onto her lap and starts strumming. Her hazel green eyes connect with the camera, as if she’s looking straight at Lena.

You with the sad eyes Don't be discouraged, oh I realise It's hard to take courage In a world full of people You can lose sight of it all The darkness inside you Can make you feel so small

Like the previous times before Lena is completely floored when she watches Emma sing. The way in which the words touch Lena and making her heart melt and ache all at once. How even though her girlfriend is singing to a camera she somehow connects with Lena.

But I see your true colours Shining through I see your true colours And that's why I love you So don't be afraid to let them show Your true colours True colours True colours are beautiful Like a rainbow

“Wow.”

Lena jumps and quickly locks her phone, halting the video and Emma’s voice. The CEO spins around to see an apologetic Sam standing behind her desk.

“Sorry!” Sam holds her hands up and Lena wipes her face. Trying to hide the emotions that had surfaced.

“It’s okay.” Lena tries to tidy her desk a bit before focusing back on her friend. “Everything okay?”

“Yea, it’s gone six.”

Lena’s eyes widen as she glances down at the clock on her desk.

‘Shit.’ The raven haired beauty thinks in dismay and presses her lips together until they disappear.

“You alright?” Sam asks with a frown.

“I didn’t get enough done today.” Lena uncharacteristically slumps forward and holds her head in her hands.

“Hey-” Sam quickly comes around and sits on the desk, placing a comforting hand on her friend’s shoulder. “You are ahead of what you need to do, but if things get too much we can always hire more assistants. You aren’t in this alone.”

Lena swallows heavily and nods. Sam may say she’s ahead but the raven haired beauties expectations are set too high from years of trying to please her family.

“So, how about we pick up some food and go see that gorgeous girlfriend of yours?”

Sam’s comment makes Lena gradually sit up and glare at the brunette.

“Hands off Arias.” Lena growls and Sam throws her head back laughing.

“Wrong Danvers my dear.” Sam gently pats Lena’s cheek before getting up and grabbing her stuff.

Lena smiles and shakes her head. Quickly wiping the tears from her face before shutting everything down on her desk. She takes one more look at the piles of work.

Before Kara Danvers had come into her life she would have stayed until the early hours of the morning to complete her tasks. Sometimes not even leaving the office at all. But with Kara everything changed. Her obsessive, workaholic routines had been disrupted with lunches, coffee meet ups, movie and games nights. Lena found herself developing more and more friendships and she liked it.

Then when Emma Danvers swung into Lena’s life… Well there was no hope of Lena ever working late into the night again.

Because no matter where Emma was she would ask when the best time was for her to call Lena and for some strange reason Lena had given her a time that cut her working hours a lot shorter. This also meant that Lena wasn’t elbow deep in work that would distract her from spending time with her crush. Over time this became her new normal and even when Emma couldn’t chat due to the time difference (and Lena refused to allow Emma to sacrifice her sleep for her) Lena would find herself finishing work at a reasonable hour.

Finally Lena turns away from the work and stands, rolling her chair under the desk and smoothing out her grey dress.

The pair walk out of LCorp in comfortable silence towards Sam’s car, nodding at employees as they went.

As Lena settles into the passenger seat she notices her brunette friend overly tapping the steering wheel.

“Sam? Is there something wrong?”

“Erm, could we- I mean, if it’s okay. Could we listen to Emma sing?”

Lena hesitates for a moment. Wanting to keep the songs her girlfriend has sent her private and only for herself.

But the raven haired beauty reaches into her bag and pulls out her phone. Connecting it to Sam’s car and choosing a song for the pair to listen to.

The car is filled with the gentle sound of a piano and soon Emma starts singing.

It's a little bit funny, this feeling inside I'm not one of those who can easily hide I don't have much money, but boy if I did I'd buy a big house where we both could live

The corner of Lena’s lips pull up slightly as she listens to her girlfriend. Images flash through her mind of a house the pair would buy and make a home. Where everything that has happened over the past few weeks would be a distance memory. They would both be happy, healthy and even more in love.

So excuse me forgetting, but these things I do See I've forgotten if they're green or they're blue Anyway the thing is what I really mean Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen

Lena can’t help but feel a slight blush build up in her cheeks. Remembering the way Emma would stare into her eyes as they lay on the bed, saying she was taking in every detail of colour and noticing the flecks of blue in them.

Lena also notices how Sam glances over at her every so often and chooses to ignore her friend. Instead turning her head to gaze out of the window and keeps listening to her girlfriend’s declaration of love.

And you can tell everybody this is your song It may be quite simple, but now that it's done I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind that I put down in words How wonderful life is now you're in the world

The raven haired beauty rests her head against the side of the car door. She takes a big intake of breath and lets it out gradually.

“Lena?” She hears Sam ask softly.

“Yea?”

“You okay?”

Lena pauses as she chooses her answer. Knowing if she lies Sam will pick up on it.

“No, but I will be.” Lena slowly lifts her head up and gives Sam a small smile. The song ends and Lena chooses another more upbeat one that has Sam tapping along on the steering wheel.

An idea starts forming and Lena bites the inside of her lip. “So, did Lucy mention where Emma will be staying after she leaves the DEO?”

“No. I know she’s going to talk to Emma about it soon. Why?”

“Do- do you think Emma would move in with me?” Lena asks quietly, purposefully not looking at Sam as she says it.

“Most definitely!” Sam makes Lena jump with her loud, enthusiastic response. “I mean, she’s totally in love with you and it’s not like your relationship is brand new.” Sam beams at her friend. “Also you guys totally failed in the lesbian stereotype! You should have moved in together on the second date right?”

Lena chuckles and shakes her head. Secretly she would have loved to have moved in with Emma straight away, they were practically living at each other’s apartments anyway, even before their relationship developed further.

“Okay, I’m going to ask her. Today.” Lena says mostly to herself and nods slowly.

“Yes!” Sam can’t help but smile brightly at her friend and a surge of happiness fills the brunette. Finally some good news among the chaos of the past few weeks.

The raven haired beauty turns to smile nervously at Sam. “She has to say yes first.”

Sam scoffs. “Are you kidding me right now? Really?” Sam can’t help but raise her eyebrows. “Lee if you asked Emma to marry you, right now, I have no doubt in my mind she would.”

At that Lena’s smile lights up her whole face as she imagines Emma in a bridal gown. Walking towards her with a radiant smile on her face.

‘Lena Danvers.’ The raven haired beauty tests the name in her mind and settles back into her seat. Going over what the venue would look like, whether Emma would want a big wedding or something more intimate.

But soon the brunette starts feeling frustrated as the car crawls along the road. “Urgh this traffic!”

“Must be some roadworks happening.”

“Yea, or there's a gathering outside Em’s apartment again.”

“Oh?”

“Yea, more and more fans have been showing up to pay their respects and show their support.” Sam says casually as she places her elbow on the car window and rests her head against her hand. “She’s gained an even bigger following than before. Lucy’s been working non stop to try and contain the true story. Apparently she’s gonna ask Emma to stage some photos and create a timeline.” Sam quickly glances over at her friend as she provides the information Lucy had discussed with her. A deep frown is etched on Lena's face and her mouth opens to speak, but Sam stops her before she can ask any questions. “Best to talk to Lucy about it.”

Lena nods and turns back to stare out of the window. Her mind races with what Lucy could have planned. Guessing that Emma would need to be kept out of the public eye for a while due to the injuries she had received.

‘Well she shouldn’t be breathing at all.’ Lena’s mind whispers and she immediately feels sick. But the feeling soon fades as she focuses on Emma’s voice.

The car slowly makes progress down the street when it comes to a halt outside a florist.

“Do you think this traffic will clear in the next few minutes?” Lena asks quickly.

“No, doesn’t look like it.” Sam whines frustratedly, slamming her head back on the head rest.

“I’m getting some flowers.” Suddenly Lena grabs her phone, unbuckles and jumps out of the car before Sam can react or say anything.

Lena ignores the looks people give her as she strides confidently across the road towards the small florist. She marvels at the colours of the flowers and heads inside.

“Welcome! Welcome!” A kind elderly couple greet her behind the counter.

“How may I help you today dear?” The gentleman asks her. Lena immediately notices recognition in his eyes but he doesn’t say anything more. Which she is grateful for.

“I would like to purchase a bouquet for my girlfriend please.”

“Ah! Any special occasion?” The elderly woman asks kindly as she starts gathering some flowers to show the CEO.

“Er- no, not particularly. She’s in hospital at the moment and I wanted to cheer her up, show her my love?” Lena cringes slightly at how she doesn’t know what to say. Not wanting to give away Emma’s state.

“Ah of course. Well our prices range differently, depending on what you choose. But, as it’s you and these are for our favourite customer, we are going to give them to you for free.” The elderly gentleman smiles kindly at her.

Lena blinks a few times and her eyebrows rise.

“Thank you sir, but I insist on paying.”

“Nonsense! Emma has been a valuable customer over the years and we were both utterly devastated by the horrific attack that befalled her.”

“Truly tragic.” His wife nods along before staring Lena in the eyes. “But is she getting better?”

“Slowly but surely.” Lena tries to reassure them.

“Good, that’s good.” The elderly gentleman nods. “Now my dear, as I am sure you are aware flowers have different meanings. What would you like the bouquet to represent.”

Lena thinks for a moment. “My love for her.” She simply says.

The couple smile at her. “Right!” The lady claps her hands and starts gathering flowers together, quickly explaining what each one means and for Lena’s approval.

Lena reaches into her bag for her card, still wanting to pay for the beautiful bouquet.

“No.” The gentleman holds out a hand and smiles at Lena’s confused expression. “Please, it is the least we can do for her.”

Lena nods but sneakily reaches into her purse and places a few hundred bills in a tip jar on the counter.

“I know she isn’t with it properly but when she can if you could give Emma our love we’d really appreciate it.” The lady says kindly as she hands Lena the beautiful bouquet of flowers. “Who knows maybe the colours will help revive her.”

“I hope so and I definitely will.” Lena cradles the flowers carefully, gazing at the roses, tulips, baby breath and daisies. Hoping she can remember all the different meanings to tell her girlfriend. “Thank you again.” Lena smiles at the couple and leaves the shop. Waving at them as she opens the door and steps out into the street.

The raven haired beauty glances around for Sam’s car and sees it near the end of the street. Lena quickly makes her way down the pavement and through the traffic to get back to the car. Sam unlocks the doors and Lena gracefully slides in.

“Wow, they look lovely.” Sam stares at the bouquet.

“They do don’t they?” Lena smiles and smells the flowers.

“Can you play more of Emma’s songs please?”

“Sure.” Lena quickly links her phone back to Sam’s car and chooses a new song for them to listen to.

The pair stay in comfortable silence as they listen to Emma’s music and crawl through the busy streets of the city.

-- -- --

Finally they make it to the DEO after picking up some food for everyone. Thank goodness Lena thought to order while they were stuck in traffic. Especially as they got food for Kara too. The waiter had given Lena a questioning look when they handed the box over to her. Lena responded by tilting her head slightly and giving one of her cold CEO stares. Only when she placed the box in the boot of Sam’s car did she realise she could have just smiled at them. Sometimes old habits are hard to break.

“Here let me take the food and you hold the flowers.” Sam quickly takes a hold of the box and Lena closes the trunk. The pair quickly make their way inside.

“Good evening.” Agent Vasquez nods at them in greeting.

“Evening Agent.” Sam smiles at her. “Oh could you do me a favour?”

“Depending what it is ma’am.” Agent Vasquez places her hands behind her back, standing at ease.

Sam places the box on the floor and takes out a few bags of food. Leaving most still left in the box. “Could you please give this food to our friends in the main cell downstairs?”

Agent Vasquez tilts her head forward and squats down to pick the box up. “Of course ma’am.”

“Thank you.” Lena responds with a small smile and heads towards the elevator. The pair first go to the labs and Sam hands over Eliza, J’onn, Winn, Brainy and Nia’s order.

Soon the pair make it to Emma’s floor and the anticipation builds within Lena at the thought of seeing her girlfriend. She knocks on the door and softly opens it, knowing Emma can’t call out to give them permission to enter.

“Hi!” Lucy greets the pair as they enter and Sam responds but the raven haired beauty focuses on her girlfriend. A smile spreads across her face seeing how engrossed Emma is in her painting. Noticing the cute way she sticks the tip of her tongue out.

Lena places the flowers on the coffee table and slowly approaches the blonde beauty. The noise of her heels filling the room. But still Emma doesn’t look up. Lena gazes down at what Emma is painting. She takes a quick intake of breath at what she sees. Amazed by the detail within it.

It seems to be from Emma’s point of view, showing Alex and Kara sitting on Emma’s bed. The pair are laughing and smiling brightly up at her with their hands joined together with Emma’s. Tears are within both of their eyes and Lena can tell the sisters were sharing a special moment together.

Lena resists the urge to kiss Emma’s head and instead heads back to the sofa.

“She’s been doing that for hours.” Lucy follows Lena over to the sofas and sniffs the air, smelling the food within the bags. Her stomach loudly rumbles making the trio laugh.

They look over at the blonde whose tongue is still poking out as she paints.

“Nothing can break her focus.” Lucy laughs and sits next to Sam.

“Oh no, I’m sure there's something or, someone, that could.” Sam raises an eyebrow at Lena and a slight blush colours her cheeks, remembering how Sam had found the lovers in the morning.

“How has she been?” Lena asks as she pulls out her meal and starts eating.

“Alright, I guess.” Lucy glances sadly over at her friend.

A hint of a frown appears on Lena’s forehead. “Sam mentioned you have a plan to move forward?”

Lucy nods and dives into detail of the plans she had told Emma earlier in the day. About creating video and images to release to the media at specific times in the upcoming months. How Emma will have to stay out of the public eye.

“I was also thinking…” Lena pauses and quickly glances over at Emma, who was still completely submerged in her task. Lena turns back to Lucy who studies her closely. The CEO leans in and Lucy copies her. “About asking Emma to move in with me.” The raven haired beauty says quietly. Not wanting her girlfriend to overhear.

A wide smile breaks across Lucy’s face and she nods. “I think that will work perfectly. I noticed how worried Emma got when I mentioned she could leave here soon.”

Lena lets out a breath, relieved that Lucy agrees.

The brunette keeps smiling at the news, hoping this will help Emma’s recovery. “Oh and Winn mentioned about developing a face modifier which Emma will have to wear when she’s out in public. He’s going to discuss it with you and see what can be done.”

Immediately Lena’s eyes light up with interest and Sam smiles at her expression of wonder. Almost expecting Lena to jump up and stride from the room to find Winn in the lab.

But the trio continue chatting and eating until they hear Emma place her brush into the cup of water. Lena looks over at the blonde and beams when their eyes connect.

Lena places her empty food container on the coffee table and picks up the bouquet of flowers. She hides them behind her back when she stands and approaches her girlfriend, her nerves prickle near the surface.

‘What if Emma says no? What if she doesn’t love me?’  

Pushing her thoughts away Lena sits on the bed next to Emma and presents the flowers to the blonde. She smiles at how wide Emma’s eyes go, how she instantly reaches out to feel the softness of the rose and studies the detail of the flowers.

Instead of asking Emma then and there Lena chickens out and starts reciting the different meanings of the flowers. Only getting distracted for a moment as Emma keeps lovingly kissing her cheek, but Lena stops the blonde, determined to tell her girlfriend the meaning of every flower. Totally not because she was scared to ask her question… Nope.

‘Luthors don’t get scared.’ Lena will always try and reassure herself in times like this.

But finally the pair kiss, only to be interrupted by Lucy pretending to heave.

Lena laughs when Emma flips the other brunette off and focuses back on the blonde. Her green eyes study her love’s face.

“So, how’s your head?” Lena asks as she runs her fingers gently through Emma’s hair and watches the blonde lift her hands to sign.

“I’ve had no complaints.”

Immediately Lena lifts her head back and laughs loudly causing the others in the room to question her. The raven haired beauty repeats the joke and the other pair laugh along.

Lena feels Emma snuggle into her side and the raven haired beauty wraps an arm around her.

“We’ve brought you some food love.” Lena says gently and kisses the top of Emma’s head. “Are you hungry?”

She feels Emma nod and goes to get up to get the container but Emma becomes a koala bear and holds on to her with a vice-like grip.

“Ow, Em, not so tight!” Lena laughs out but Emma instantly lets go, trying to move away from the CEO. But she can’t due to Lena’s own hold on her. “Hey, it’s okay. I know you just love me so much.” The raven haired beauty smiles reassuringly and gently boops Emma’s nose. Making the blonde adorably scrunch her face up.

“Here you go Em.” Sam places Emma’s food on the tray table. Emma gives her a look of gratitude. “Shall I move the picture so you don’t get anything on it?”

Emma nods as she opens the lid and shoves a huge cunk into her mouth. Hesitantly wrapping an arm around her girlfriend, making sure she doesn’t squeeze her too hard this time.

Sam clears the table of the painting supplies and her eyes widen as she stares at the painting while placing it on top of a chest of drawers.

“Wow Em. This is so good.”

“Let me see!” Lucy rushes over and gapes at it. “Awww I love it!”

Emma buries her head into Lena’s shoulder, feeling embarrassed from the praise. The raven haired beauty grins and kisses Emma’s head.

A knock makes the women look over at the door and Emma peeking slightly over Lena’s shoulder to see who it is.

The door opens and J’onn enters with Eliza following behind him. “Lucy, we are ready to go down to the cells.”

Emma sits up at J’onn’s words and stares at Lucy, desperately wanting to go with her. She turns to her girlfriend and signs.

“What’s going on?”

Lena repeats the question and Lucy approaches Emma’s bed, knowing she needs to be completely honest with the blonde.

“We aren’t making any progress with who took your sisters. Whoever they are they covered their tracks well.” Lucy rubs her shoulder as she looks apologetically at the pair on the bed. “We have the go ahead from your sister's therapists that we can ask them more questions. Especially as the R.K levels are almost depleted.”

Emma sits up even straighter at this new piece of information, looking more alert then before and grabbing Lena’s hand, who squeezes it three times.

“Can I come with you?” Sam asks confidently, ready for the looks of confusion the superfriends give her. “Well, with my time as Reign, I understand what it’s like having blackouts and waking up realising something, that is out of your control, has happened.”

J’onn and Lucy share a look and the brunette nods. “Very well.” J’onn agrees and gets ready to head down to the cells.

Emma fidgets and Lucy’s eyes are drawn to her. She wants to cry at the hope etched onto Emma’s face.

“I will ask them if they are ready to see you. But please prepare yourself that they still may not be ready.” Lucy begs as if reading Emma's mind. The blonde slowly nods and her shoulder sag.

“It will be okay sweetheart.” Eliza tries to reassure her baby girl. “They are making progress, these things just take time.”

Emma nods and motions to the painting. “Can someone give this to them? Would that be okay?” Lena speaks out what Emma signs and Sam carefully picks up the painting.

The blonde smiles at her, placing her hand to her lips, moving it forward and down, thanking Sam. Almost like she’s blowing Sam a kiss.

“You’re welcome Emma.” Sam returns the smile and heads towards the door.

Emma shifts so she can look at her girlfriend. “Will you go see them?”

Lena blinks in surprise at Emma’s request. “Are you sure?”

Emma nods. “Kara needs her best friend. Plus mom can keep me company.”

Lena stares into fading bloodshot eyes for a moment. “Alright. Can I have a kiss?” The raven haired beauty smiles shyly at her girlfriend and Emma tilts her head forward, connecting their lips.

“You guys are just too much.” Lucy mutters and Sam pushes her shoulder while shaking her head at the other brunette.

The pair were adorably, but also sickeningly cute.

Lena regretfully moves away from Emma and gracefully slides off the bed. But she can’t move away as the blonde as she won’t let go of her hand.

Lena turns to her girlfriend and smiles sweetly at her, also raising an eyebrow. “Em-ma.”

Slowly Emma lets go of Lena's hand and the raven haired beauty follows the others out of the room. She turns back at the doorway. Emma lifts her hand and does a sad little wave which Lena copies.

“Come on lovebird.” Sam gently grabs Lena’s arm and pulls her away from the door. When they near the elevator Sam wraps an arm around her friend and leans into her ear. “Chicken.” The brunette whispers and laughs at the look of outrage on Lena’s face.

“Hey! I-er-it just-I-” Lena stops and huffs as the superfriends turn to look at her in shock. Rarely, if ever, hearing the badass CEO stutter. The elevator doors open and the group step inside and wait while the elevator descends.

Lucy massages her shoulders and huffs, catching Winn’s attention.

“Lucy? You okay?” Winn asks in concern.

“No, my back and shoulders are killing me.” Lucy moans while flexing and stretching her back, trying to relieve the pain there.

“What did you do?” Sam asks with a frown.

“Nothing.” Lucy says bewildered but pauses as she thinks through her day. “Well, I did jump onto Emma to stop her going down to the cells. Maybe I just pulled something.”

Sam's face morphs into one of deep thought as she contemplates Lucy’s words. Her eyes find Lena’s who tilts her head as she tries to figure out what Sam is thinking.

The doors open and the superfriends make their way to the cell holding Alex and Kara.

Lena can’t help but feel apprehensive and a bit guilty at the sight of Kara and Alex. She hasn’t properly spoken to the sisters since their imprisonment. Her main focus has solely been on Emma.

She hangs back as the others enter the room and make their way over to the cell. Nia and Brainy are already in front of the sisters as Brainy works through his data and Nia is sitting on the floor having had her meal with Kara and Alex.

“Guys!” Kara jumps to her feet and smiles brightly at the group. “It’s so good to see you all!” Her eyes meet each of the superfriends and widen for a moment when they connect with her best friend.

“Any news?” Alex says standing next to her sister and places her hands on her hips. Immediately morphing into Director Danvers.

“Still no leads.” J’onn says quietly and Alex clenches her jaw while Kara crosses her arms.

“We’ve swept the area and any samples we take comes up with nothing.” Winn holds up his tablet to the sisters to show them his data.

Lena can’t imagine how the pair must be feeling. Obviously as frustrated, if not more, then Lena, to know their attackers are walking free out in the world which makes Lena’s blood boil.

“Do you remember anything new?” Lucy asks and Brainy pulls up some photos of other locations. “Or do these pictures mean anything?”

Brainy holds out his tablet to show the pair. They study them intently.

“No.” Alex huffs heavily and Kara shakes her head, avoiding everyone's eyes as she wills herself to remember anything that would help. “It’s still too fuzzy.”

“One minute we were with Emma and I flew off with Alex and then next we are on the way to her apartment to-” Kara motions her hand, not wanting to finish the sentence.

“I just remember darkness and feeling cold, pain. The sound of running water and a hum.” Alex says hauntingly.

“I know how overwhelming all this can be.” Sam draws the sisters attention to her. She fiddles with the edge of Emma’s painting. Wanting desperately to say the right words. “When I would wake up after Reign took over, it was the most terrifying feeling. To have these fuzzy memories but not being able to focus on them. I just wanted you both to know you aren’t alone in this.” Sam says passionately and Kara takes it in, nodding her thanks and taking a deep breath.

Alex continues looking over the data, trying to make her brain remember something useful. Anything.

“Yes, we will figure this out. Don’t lose hope.” J’onn looks between them.

The sisters nod.

“How-” Kara pauses, biting her lip. “How is she? Emma.”

“She’s desperate to see you both.” Lena says softly, making the sisters tense simultaneously.

“Yea, I had to jump on her back to stop her coming down here earlier.” Lucy jokes lightly but subconsciously rubs her shoulder and Alex frowns at the brunette.

“She painted something for you.” Sam quickly interrupts when she sees the redhead opening her mouth to ask a question. Sam holds the painting in front of her and turns it so the sisters can see.

Immediately both their eyes mist over and Kara’s lips disappear as she tries to stop herself from crying out and Alex digs her nails into her palms.

“She knows you both aren’t ready to see her.” Lena says gently, seeing their distress. “But Emma wanted you to know how much she loves you. That nothing can or will ever change that.”

Alex shakes her head at Lena’s words. ‘How can Emma be so forgiving?’

“Because you are her sisters.” J’onn responds. He didn’t mean to hear Alex’s thoughts, at the moment they are just so loud, as if she is screaming them at him.

“We’ll think about it.” Kara says and looks at her sister who does a slight nod in agreement. Despite the many hours together they haven’t spoken about the attack. Instead they are pushing their pain away and hiding it, pretending it doesn’t exist.

“That’s all we ask.” J’onn reassures them.

“What’s the news on her voice?” Alex says while crossing her arms and Lucy steps closer to the sisters.

“Well, I had a chat with Doctor Sloan and he feels ready to operate soon. Maybe in the next month or so.” She says while looking at both Kara and Alex. Lena squints her eyes slightly at the news, trying to remember if Emma had communicated this with her.

“That’s good, right?” Kara asks desperately and lowers her arms.

“It is.” Lucy smiles. But she is holding back key information that there is a chance that the surgery won’t be successful the first time. Feeling that it could dash the little hope the sisters are holding onto. Even Alex looks a bit lighter from the news.

“Please tell Emma we love her too.” Alex responds softly and focuses on Lena. “Give her a hug from me.”

“And me.” Kara adds quickly, smiling cautiously at her best friend.

“Of course!” Lena nods while taking a nervous step closer as she fiddles with her hands. “I actually wanted your opinion on something.”

-- -- --

Emma quietly strums her guitar while her mom reads in the chair next to her. The blonde pauses to write down the notes and chords, finding it slightly frustrating she can’t sing them out. But she continues on and tries to match the pitch with what she is singing in her head.

The door opening makes Emma whip her head around. She smiles at Lena as she closes it behind her and comes over to her. Emma shuffles across the bed, allowing Lena to sit next to her and the blonde carefully places her guitar on the stand by the bed.

“Hi love.” Lena kisses Emma’s lips as her girlfriend turns back around. The raven haired beauty smiles at Eliza, who watches them over her book. “J’onn is asking if you can meet him in the lab?”

“Thank you Lena.” Eliza closes her book, stands and kisses Emma’s forehead and surprises Lena when she does the same to her.

Emma smiles at her shocked girlfriend and gently strokes her cheek. Waiting for her mom to leave the room before kissing Lena again. Before things get heated Emma pulls back and signs. “How are they?”

“Well, they send their love and promise to think about seeing you soon.” Lena watches as Emma’s eyes grow sad. “I’m sorry.”

Emma nods, lowering her head and runs her thumb over Lena’s hand.

The raven haired beauty goes to open her mouth but finds the words she wants to say get stuck in her throat. Emma immediately notices and looks up at her girlfriend. Tilting her head questioningly.

“I- erm…” Lena lets out a small laugh. “This is ridiculous. The famous Lena Luthor stumbling on her words.”

Emma smiles slightly and squeezes Lena’s hand three times.

“I love you too.” Lena leans in and presses her forehead against Emma’s. She takes a deep breath and pulls away again so she can see her girlfriend properly.

“So, I’ve been thinking and I was wondering, when you are discharged…”

Lena fidgets and momentarily looks away.

“That… Whether you would like to, I mean you can say no, no pressure, but if you would like to come and…”

Emma squeezes her girlfriend’s hand, making Lena lift her eyes and gaze at her.

“Live with me?” Lena’s voice goes higher in pitch as she asks the question. Her nerves and Irish twang coming through.

Emma’s mouth drops open and her eyes fill with tears before smiling so brightly Lena thinks it outshines the sun.

“Is that a yes?” Lena asks tenderly.

Emma responds by vigorously nodding before leaping onto Lena’s lap and kissing her. Making Lena smile happily into the kiss as she wraps her arms around her girlfriend.

(Part Twenty Two)

[lucas-koh]

Stitches - Bryce Lahela x MC XIV

Open Heart; only somewhat canon compliant.

Parts 1-13 linked in bio

Song: When My Love Won’t Stick To You - Whitaker

Rating: M, swearing, sexual language, references of violence

Word Count: 3286

Taglist: @lahellacute @lahamseiroshoe @anotherbeingsworld @fuseboxmusebox @choicesficwriterscreations @bubblelaureno @bratzlahela @eleanorbloom @bryceslahela @thegreentwin @kelseaaa @kingkassam || please let me know if you would like to be added to or removed from this list

A/N: just to say Stitches will not be updating next Friday, since it’s Christmas Day I will not be majorly online. I’ll be posting again Jan 1st 2021💛

Chapter Fourteen: Everything Goes But The Memories Made

“What?” She barely whispered, her head spinning. Bryce had just revealed to her that he remembered her from their college days when they’d shared a kiss once, drunk.

He looked nervous, afraid to continue, but he did.

“Truth be told, I always had a soft spot for you. You know when you just feel warm around someone, even if you barely know them? That’s how you made me feel. When I’d see you studying at the library with snacks and coffee splayed all around you, or when I’d see you at the hospital for lectures, it was always just a mental ‘hey, I know you’ and suddenly everything would feel okay. Seeing someone you recognise is really grounding, you know? Especially when there’s a distance and you don’t really know them. And I liked the competition of it all, that you were so smart and always number 1 but didn’t even know it was me at number 2, because you were so confident in your own abilities you didn’t need to look back. I wanted to be your friend, but you didn’t seem to have the time, so I let you be. And then you kissed me at that frat party and I thought, god, this is amazing. I didn’t think into it too much - college and all - but I have thought about it a lot since. And then when you crashed into me on our first day at Edenbrook, at first I didn’t know who you were. You look different, you know. It’s been like, seven years, after all, it wasn’t until I saw your name tag that it hit me. Why you’d felt so familiar. But I wanted to wait until you recognised me too, if you even did. And then when you did, I got nervous, and tried to ignore it.”

Holy shit. He… he really remembered me. Not even just from the kiss, either, he remembered me before that.

Suki stammered a little before the words came out, “…Bryce… I don’t understand why you wouldn’t just say?”

“Honestly? I was embarrassed that you didn’t recognise me to begin with. More so, I was embarrassed that I’d known you and recognised you and always thought about you every now and then and you hadn’t,” he said. “I guess it felt sort of… creepy?”

“Wow…” was all she could stifle out. She was at a loss for much more.

Bryce had remembered her, for all this time. Things felt like they were looking up, the way he’d opened up to her and finally told her the truth. Unfortunately, the altercation with Fred and Ben wouldn’t stop nagging at the back of Suki’s brain.

“…sorry,” Bryce exhaled, rubbing his hand across his neck bashfully.

“No, I- don’t worry. I get it. It was just a kiss I’m sure you had loads, but it’s weird.”

“This is why- I didn’t want you to think I was weird.”

“No! Not you! I’m really glad I’m not forgettable,” she laughed lightly, “it’s weird that… oh god it’s going to sound ridiculous.”

“It can’t sound more ridiculous than what I just said. I won’t laugh,” he said, then twisted the corner of his mouth up into a grin, “maybe.”

She sighed, burying her head in her hands before coming out with it. “I guess it just feel like we keep being pulled together, like, i don’t know,” she felt her cheeks become seriously hot, “fate.”

Bryce had lied, because he burst out laughing, which then devolved into a coughing fit and had Suki patting him on the back. Maybe a little harder than she was meant to.

“Ow!”

“You said you wouldn’t laugh!” Except she was laughing, too.

“I know, I know. You just looked funny. Honestly? I do see what you mean. All signs pointing to us ended up here,” he gestured between them, sat facing each-other in his bed.

Maybe this cosmic power she’d been cursing for all the early embarrassing encounters wasn’t so bad after all.

—-

Bryce and Suki talked for hours about college, and their stories, and people they knew in common. They laughed about how Suki didn’t even know Bryce sat near her in most lectures, and only knew him by his reputation.

A little later, after raking through Bryce’s Stanford yearbook and finding Suki in there, Bryce pulled out his high school yearbook.

“This is my senior photo. Just before graduation.”

Bryce was smiling up from the page, his golden tinged hair darker and shoulder length, and silver piercings shone from his ear, eyebrow, nostril, and lip. When Suki had known him he’d been piercing free.

“Oh my god! Why the hell did you stop looking like this for college? You know, I might’ve actually spoken to you if you’d looked like this.”

“Eh. I wanted to be taken more seriously. Why?”

“Don’t make me say it you dick.”

He nudged closer, smug all over his face. “What?”

“Because it looks good on you.”

“So I don’t look good like this?” He motioned down his body, which might’ve been sexy if he was in better shape. Well, as in his cold. His physique was perfect…

Suki gave him an affectionately knowing smile, “of course you do. I like the way you look very much,” she nodded. Then when Bryce’s face lit up she added: “but you’re not going to catch me saying that again anytime soon, okay? Your ego is big enough.”

Bryce moved to get up from the bed, “look, I’m just going to the piercing shop I won’t be long-“

Suki pulled him back down to the bed with a laugh, “Bryce! Although I wouldn’t oppose I’m not sure you’d be allowed in surgeries looking like metal face.”

“It would make things interesting though…”

“What?”

“A lip ring. Maybe a tongue ring. Imagine the kissing, or me going down on you…”

“Bryce.”

“What! Don’t tell me you wouldn’t consider it.”

“You are not getting any action while you’re sick.”

He leaned closer to her in the bed, “I got you to kiss me.”

She sighed and pulled the back of her hand up to check his temperature. Before she got there however, he took it from her.

“What’s this?” He brushed a finger lightly across her fingers, by the edge of the bandaging.

Ah, crap. This guy really does make me lose my mind. I’d forget my name if I spent too long around him.

“Work casualty,” she tried to laugh nonchalantly and pull her hand back to his forehead to seem normal. But he brought it back down to inspect it. His brow furrowed as he tried to decide what was under the gauze, and then he used one of his hands to grab Suki’s other one. He turned this one so that the palm was facing up and the scars from the month before were visible; standing paler than her skin tone right in the centre.

He held each hand in his own like they were feathers, opposite directions up.

“Does it hurt?” He asked, moving his thumb as if about to graze over the scars, asking permission.

“No, go ahead.”

He followed the neat shape of the puckered skin with the pad of his thumb, as gentle as he had been when he’d stitched it. Suki’s hand felt cold under his touch, the sensation on her scar able to feel each fingerprint dragging over.

He dropped her scarred hand somewhat to the mattress, but still held it in his own, shifting their hands slightly so that it was more of a classic hand-hold.

Suki tried not to focus on the bolt of electricity coursing from that spot. She’d wanted to hold his hand for so long, and here he was holding it like it was no big deal. His thumb ran up and down her skin in a soothing motion.

He turned his attention to the other, biting his lip as he looked.

“Whatever caused this, it’s gonna have to answer some questions.”

“It was just, uh, slammed it in the double doors. Those are heavy,” she cleared her throat, hating every fibre of herself for lying.

“Stupid door.” He brought his face down to the bandaged hand and placed a featherlight kiss to the top of her knuckles, “I’m a surgeon, I have magic kisses.”

“Oh dear,” she laughed, a little breathless and trying to seem light and uncaring, “did you take some medicine this morning? I think it’s kicking in.”

He chuckled, almost back to his usual Bryce chuckle, “but,” he cleared his throat, clearly gearing up to make a cheeky comment by the smirk on his face, “if I had a tongue piercing, my kisses really would be magic.”

“Oh my god,” Suki couldn’t help but laugh at him.

As they laughed together on Bryce’s bed, hands tangled together and bodies close, Suki truly felt happy. Like things really could work out for her. For them. And Suki was having an amazing time just being with Bryce.

The only problem was the albatross hanging around her neck.

—-

The next thing Suki knew, she was waking up in Bryce’s bed. He was sat beside her, scrolling through his phone.

She blinked her eyes a few times to make sure she was seeing things right, and moved to sit up.

“I… fell asleep?” She asked groggily, causing Bryce to turn to face her. He smiled when he saw her.

“Yeah. I figured I should just let you, you seemed pretty tired.”

She realised she must’ve fallen asleep when Bryce had been searching for some Stanford pictures, because that was the last thing she remembered.

She sighed, “you should’ve woken me.”

“Nah, you were working all night.”

And getting into it with your colleagues…

She sighed again and bit her lip, figuratively and physically.

“You really should’ve woken me,” she whispered, unable to handle Bryce treating her like this knowing she’d stuck her nose where it didn’t belong.

He smiled back at her, she could see in his face that he knew something was up.

“You’re fine. It’s what friends do.”

“Bryce.” She felt like she was sighing his name a lot these days, and not in the way either of them liked the most.

He twisted his face up into a grin and Suki noticed his eyes were much brighter now, “Suki.”

She rolled her eyes, but she was terrible at hiding her guilt. She had to get out of there, because if Bryce was the one trying to alleviate it she’d feel even worse. She started to shift in the bed, but Bryce reached an arm out over her waist.

She just sort of lay there shocked as he shifted over closer to her, putting his torso over hers.

“At least let me try and kiss away some of those frown lines. If I remember correctly, it’s one of our benefits,” he smirked, hell-bent on making her feel better and in turn making her feel even worse. She couldn’t kiss him and feel like it was okay, because even that, even what was happening at that moment, felt like overstepping and taking it too far and Suki knew that it was on her. She was the one who caught feelings, who started blurring the lines and the rules and taking liberties where possible. She was the one unable to tell Bryce the truth. About her feelings or about her meddling.

But she also knew they were on borrowed time, and this might be the last chance she had to kiss him.

So she put as much as she could into it as she pulled his face to hers, hands on his cheeks and feeling the soft skin with a little bit of stubble beginning to come through, committing it to memory. Her lips pressed to his slowly but definitely, making sure each inch of herself was tied to him. With the kiss her head was filled with every other kiss they’d shared: at college, in the supply closet, at the housewarming party, and the many since. He wasn’t trying to force more like he had earlier, he seemed to be savouring it as much as she was, his lips sweet and slightly chapped but so familiar and Suki felt at home.

Kissing him was that to her.

She felt her face scrunch up as she kissed him, praying to god this wasn’t the last time. His familiar citrus scent washed over her and she never wanted to stop kissing him.

Reluctantly, but knowing she had to, Suki pulled her mouth from Bryce’s. Her eyes were glued shut and her forehead lulled against his, feeling his hair tickle her skin and his hot breaths wash over her face.

“Woah…” he exhaled, speechless to say much more.

Bryce’s kindness and the fact that she liked him so ridiculously much just meant that Suki’s guilt kept growing and growing. She just knew this couldn’t last.

—-

A couple of days passed by and Suki had been bogged down with work again, and hadn’t been able to see Bryce since that day. He’d texted a couple of times and seemed to be on rising spirits, so she was pleased about that.

It was just, every time she thought about Bryce, she couldn’t help but think about what she’d done.

Or about how the clock was ticking down until he found out.

And it was.

Bryce was back to work that day, he’d told her, and she was filled with anxiety the entire time.

Suki was on her way home later that day, just about to enter her apartment building when a voice stopped her in her tracks.

“We need to talk.” It was dark and low and every part of her went cold. She turned to face him, that face of her dreams stern and distant and everything she never wanted to see.

“Okay. There’s people home. We can go to the river.”

Bryce just nodded and started in the other direction.

Suki nervously followed behind him, afraid to catch up for she didn’t know what to say. Building in her chest were nerves and dread and like a hairline crack in her heart which she knew would expand soon enough.

She thought about the last time she saw him, the kiss they shared. How happy they’d been.

They came to the river as the sun was just setting, sparkling over the water like constellations. Bryce’s soft caramel skin was golden in the sunlight, the light reflecting in his eyes and Suki’s heart was put through a wringer just looking at him. Was this it? The last time she’d ever get to see him like this?

Suki searched her brain for ways to start, how to apologise, but Bryce beat her to it.

“Why, Suki?” It wasn’t anger, it was at a loss.

“Why what?” Bad move, Suki. He knows. There’s no point still lying to him.

“Why did you meddle in my business?”

“Because they had no right to do what they did.”

“You’ve made it worse! Now they’re never going to leave me alone! I don’t care about being liked I care about doing my fucking job! It was fine—it was over!” Bryce’s voice was now angry. Suki wasn’t sure which hurt worse. Or maybe they exacerbated each-other, like a hammer and a nail. The nail was the disappointment, and the anger just kept bruising it further into her chest.

“I- are you really pissed at me for standing up for you?” If she just let him know her intentions, maybe she could fix this.

“I’m pissed at you for going and stirring shit up! You crossed a line!”

“It wasn’t just me, Jackie was there too and I don’t see you yelling at her.”

“Well I’m not sleeping with Jackie!”

“What?” She spat.

“You-” his face scrunched up and she felt her heart scrunch with it, “you kissed me. Twice! Knowing you’d gone behind my back and disrupted things.”

“What did you mean you’re ‘not sleeping with Jackie’? Why does that mean we’re held to different standards?” She asked, her voice raised, ignoring his words because the truth hurt too much to say.

“And you didn’t tell me! You spent the entire day with me where you could’ve mentioned it and you didn’t even bother! I thought we were-” He ignored her too, but his voice halted like he couldn’t say what came next.

She couldn’t tell if his voice was breaking from the cold or the anger – but it was heartbreaking.

“No, I didn’t, because I had no clue how you’d react. And look! You’re so… mad,” as she said the last words her voice shook and it came out like a whisper. In fact, her hands started shaking too. Her eyes were beginning to blur from stinging tears welling at the bottom. She’d upset him – the last thing she ever wanted to do.

“You’re damn right I’m mad!” He yelled, and Suki flinched at the noise. “Your hand – you told me you shut it in a fucking car door! I saw his face Suki. You seriously hit him? For some stupid petty rumours?”

“Yes, I hit him,” she could really feel the tears coming as she spoke firm and loud, “he could’ve fucked everything up for you.” And it was cloying with her words, when it came to Bryce, it seemed the anger couldn’t come without pain, too.

“He’s not the only one who fucked things up for me. I mean, you violated my trust,” he shook his head, his hair blowing in the light breeze, “I trusted you,” he said this quieter, and Suki got the impression he wouldn’t have been able to yell it. It was hurt.

“And I ruined that.” I ruined everything. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I’ve never cared for someone like this.

“Yeah. You went behind my back on something I told you in confidence, and then lied to me about it. I feel so fucking—” he shook his head, at a loss for words. But he looked embarrassed.

“That wasn’t—I—just wanted to them to know how bad they fucked up! I was so mad that they did that to you.”

“It was months ago! It’s over, old news! And it was my problem to solve.”

“Well you matter to me! Okay?” It came out like a sneeze she couldn’t hold back and her heart was beating more rapidly as soon as she said it. Shit.

Bryce’s expression then was completely unreadable. Suki had no idea what was going on in his head. He just looked at her like that for a few moments, her statement hanging in the air like cigarette smoke. And then Bryce finally came out with something.

“We’re sleeping together Suki – what did you think you were doing?”

And her head was running like a machine; all cogs and whirring and sparks and clanging. The emphasis he’d put on that one word, and she knew where this was headed. Every bad dream, every nauseous predictive thought she’d had lately was laid out in front of her and coming true.

She didn’t want to ask her next question. But she had to. She had to. She knew it wouldn’t come out with any semblance of strength, but at this point, it didn’t really matter.

“So I am just a body to you?” she whispered it with a heaviness which hung in the air. They both knew this moment was going to change everything. There was no going back from here.

Bryce stared at her steely-eyed and jaw clenched so hard it looked like it might pop. She wasn’t prepared for his next word. She never would be.

“Yes.”

[moonb-eam]

june 25th

a ficlet for eliott’s birthday ☀️

Eliott is half-awake.

He’s in the sweetest liminal space between dream and reality, when the warm sheets tangled between his legs feel like the tendrils of clouds, the mattress beneath him a gently undulating sea. He’s coming out of a dream that has already passed into memory, too lazy to hold onto it, too content to do anything but let the comforting feeling of it seep into his heart.

A beam of light passes over his eye and his blinks, squinting at the bedroom window, where just beyond its glass waits another blooming morning in June.

He rolls onto his side, reaching for a warm body and when his fingers land on cool sheets he frowns, and rolls to the other side, reaching for his phone.

His screen is flooded with notifications and he blinks again, brow furrowing until he begins to read, then he grins. Laughs. In the midst of everything that had been going on - finishing his film, Lucas writing the bac - he had honestly forgotten that this day was coming. He hadn’t realized how close to the end of June they were.

The oldest text is from Idriss, sent at exactly midnight the night before. All it says is, birth.

Then there’s one from his mom, a happy birthday message buried in dozens of flower emojis.

One from his dad, with an attached photo of him as a toddler, sitting on his dad’s shoulders.

A text from Sofiane, with a video attached of two baby raccoons because, I know you’re obsessed with these.

There’s texts from every member of the grew, with varying amounts of exclamation points and emojis. There’s even an Instagram message from a girl in his class he’s spoken to a few times, and opening his Instagram app brings along another wave of notifications, old and new photos being shared across stories.

It’s an overwhelming amount of affection for Eliott, who sometimes feels like nothing more than a shadow at the fringes of the world itself, destined to be an outsider, as thin and fleeting as smoke. He slowly sits up, the sheets pooling at his waist, his eyes fixed to his phone. He scrolls through his mentions, snorting when he sees a particularly embarrassing photo from his first year of lycée that Sofiane shared, and smiling softly when he comes across a photo Alexia tagged him in, of himself and the girls piled onto a couch together.

He stares down at the outpouring of love from his friends and his family, the gentlest and simplest we’re so happy you’re here, and he feels beautifully solid, as real as the sun, warm and constant and alive.

He’s still smiling, misty-eyed, when the bedroom door opens, and someone clears their throat.

“Joyeux an-oh fucking shit, fuck.”

There’s a thud, and Eliott turns on the bed, eyes wide to see Lucas, wearing boxers and one of Eliott’s shirts, stumbling on a pair of sneakers by the door and balancing a plate on one hand. Eliott can’t quite see what’s on the plate, but there’s no mistaking the single lit candle sticking out from its surface.

Lucas smacks his elbow off of the doorframe and he swears again, the plate teetering dangerously close towards the floor. Eliott watches the entire thing with his mouth open, his hands reaching out as though he could somehow make it to Lucas in time from the other side of the room.

But Lucas manages to right himself, the plate finding balance between his hands, and Eliott can’t help but let out a laugh from the look of palpable relief on his face.

Lucas scowls at him. “Shut up,” he whispers, his cheeks turning the faintest shade of pink. Eliott smothers another laugh into his hand. He wants to kiss him there, the soft curves where colour starts and ends.

Lucas clears his throat again, with great gavitas, and rolls his shoulders back.

“Joyeux anniversaire,” he starts to sing, voice low and soft, taking a careful step forward, his eyes rapidly moving between where his feet are going next and the plate, which Eliott can now see is holding a small, round cake.

“Joyeux anniversaire,” Lucas continues, kicking a sock out of the way with one foot. Eliott couldn’t stop smiling if he tried.

“Joyeux anniversaire, mon amour.” Lucas glances up at him then, grinning widely, eyes bright and curved at the corners, and Eliott’s heart dances under his ribs. “Joyeux anniversaire,” Lucas finishes, drawing out the last word with a flourish, and Eliott giggles, pressing his hands to his cheeks.

Lucas lowers the plate towards him. “Make a wish, baby,” he says softly, and Eliott closes his eyes, thinks, just like this, always, and he blows out the candle.

The cake is covered in a thick, neat layer of cream-coloured icing, but what makes Eliott gasp in delight are the large, lopsided sunflowers that have been piped onto the surface.

“How did you do this?” Eliott asks, already reaching for his phone so he can take a picture of the cake to show it off on Instagram.

Lucas huffs, tilting his nose up imperiously. “I’m very talented, you know.”

Eliott takes three different pictures of the cake, and wraps an arm around Lucas’ neck so he can pull him close, kiss the pink points of his cheeks. “I know you are,” he murmurs, and then he kisses Lucas’ lips, humming when he tastes something sugary sweet. “What did you-?”

“Had to make sure the icing was good.”

“Of course.”

“That’s what the professionals do.”

“Absolutely.”

They both smile into another kiss, Lucas’ head tilting back when Eliott leans forward to deepen it, laughing when Eliott groans, licking into his mouth.

“Eliott, your cake.”

“Mhm, but you’re so much sweeter.”

Lucas pushes his face away with a flat palm, ignoring it when Eliott pouts. “Come on.” He pulls two forks seemingly out of nowhere, offering one to Eliott with a raised eyebrow. “What other day of the year is it acceptable to have cake for breakfast?”

It’s a good point.

The cake is delicious, sweet and light and most delightfully, coloured bright yellow on the inside. Lucas disappears to the kitchen and returns with two coffee cups, setting them down on the bedside table and grinning when he sees Eliott take another big bite.

“This is amazing,” Eliott says with a dreamy sigh. He smacks a kiss to Lucas’ cheek and leaves behind a smear of icing. “You’re amazing. When did you find the time to make this?”

“I got up early,” Lucas says, as though it’s the simplest thing in the world.

But it isn’t. It really, really isn’t.

“I can’t believe you did this for me.” Eliott swipes his finger through the corner of a sunflower, yellow and brown catching on his knuckle.

He glances up, and Lucas is already staring at him, his face melting into something quiet and soft that makes Eliott smile. He shifts closer on the mattress, planting a hand on Eliott’s thigh and leaning into him, nudging their foreheads together.

“You deserve it.” He says, and Eliott’s smile falls, slightly, a sudden thickness in his throat. Lucas gently kisses the highest point of his cheekbone. “Happy birthday, sunshine.” Another kiss to the shell of his ear. “I love you.”

Eliott buries his face in the space between Lucas’ neck and shoulder and he stays there, breathing him in, feeling their hearts beat together. He tries to collect every detail he can about the moment, every sound, every sensation, and he captures them, folding them greedily into his chest. He wants to always be able to remember this exact moment with perfect clarity: when he sat on his bed with the love of his life, ate birthday cake, and felt as loved as sunlight.

“Thank you,” he whispers into Lucas’ neck, and it falls short to convey even half of what he’s feeling. “I love you so much,” he tries, and that feels better.

The cake is clumsily deposited on the floor, forks clattering against porcelain, crumbs getting lost in the sheets, and Lucas turns back towards Eliott with a grin, wrapping his arms around his neck and sliding into his lap.

“So,” he begins, and Eliott guides him, holding onto Lucas’ thighs and smoothing his thumbs over his skin, fingertips catching on the edge of his boxers, “birthday boy.” He says it with a touch of suggestion that makes Eliott laugh, his hands tightening their hold on his hips. “What would you like to do today?” He frees one hand to poke Eliott on the nose. “We’re still having dinner with your parents tonight, but from now until then,” he leans back on Eliott’s lap, spreading his arms wide, the light catching on the joint of his elbow, the curve of his shoulder peeking out from where Eliott’s shirt gapes open, “the day is entirely yours.”

Eliott hums, tilting his head to the side.

“We could go to the botanical gardens,” Lucas suggests. He wobbles on Eliott’s lap and giggles, gripping onto his shoulders to right himself. “We could…” He taps his fingers against Eliott’s collarbones. “We could walk to the park and bring the rest of the cake with us. We could go bookstore-hopping.” Eliott grins at that, remembering when he mentioned it to Lucas weeks ago as something he always wanted to spend an entire day doing, but never had the time. “We could go to the cinema for a double feature. We could go exploring at La Petite Ceinture. We could look through the old maps at the library. We could get sushi. We could go to the river and watch the boats go by.”

Possibilities and possibilities. All things that are normal, even mundane, but wondrous in the simple realization that somehow, this entire time, Lucas has been collecting a list of Eliott’s favourite things to do. And now, he wants to do all of them. Together.

“Yes,” Eliott says, and Lucas laughs, his nose scrunching up.

“Yes to what? I said like, six things.”

“Yes to all of it.” Eliott slides his hands around Lucas’ lower back, tugging him up on his lap. “I want to do everything with you.” He aches up so he can kiss the hollow of Lucas’ throat.

“Okay,” he says softly, gasping when Eliott kisses his collarbone, nosing into the skin. “Well, then we better get started.”

“Later.” Eliott says. “We’ll go later. Right now, I just want to-” He falls back into the mattress, Lucas following him down with a huff when they land. “I want to stay here,” Eliott says, quietly, like it’s a secret. An entire world to see, and Eliott wants to live in the space between Lucas’ arms. “Just for a little bit.”

Lucas smiles, smoothing his hair off of his forehead. “Whatever you want, sunshine.”

Eliott grins, then rolls them, delighting in the sharp, echoing laugh Lucas lets out at the sudden motion.

“This,” he says, and Lucas blinks up at him, deep oceans that Eliott sinks into, pressing him into the mattress, pressing their lips together.

This. Just like this, always.

[maisondenachtai]

I Like That (Part 3)

Title: I Like That Pairing: Erik X BlackFemale!Reader Previous Parts: Part 1, Part 2 summary: just uh....hide your purse aight? (author’s note: uh, ...so...um...it’s been a while right? very sorry about that but it’s here now and I already know how i’m ending it so that’s great. ...this part is written in erik’s pov cause that really helped me break the block i had on it. ...I hope you enjoy it. only one more part to go.) He knew he had fucked up. She wouldn’t even look at him and had scooted as close to her door as she possibly could. He mentally cursed himself and his ego. He wasn’t even sure why he had snapped at her so hard. What she said was fundamentally true and she had the right to speak on what she knew first hand, but it must have been the mixture of David, her being so mad at him, and the fact that her blow had hurt that had him acting up.

“Y/n, listen.”

“Erik, I said shut up.” She said looking down at her nails that were done in a french tip, something she had been doing since grade school. He remembered how her mom thought color was too ‘grown’ and that ‘young women should only have French tipped nails’. He remembered laughing at her nails in the car when she held them out for him to see, and then he remembered moaning as those same nails wrapped around him.

“I’m sorry, alright.” He sighed and rubbed his hand down his face.

“You’re always sorry Erik. It never helps anything. You’re a sorry ass nigga. So what?” She finally looked at him fury and sadness in her brown eyes.

He swallowed his anger at her name calling and looked out of the window to calm down, “Listen, I know you fucking hate me, and I don’t blame you. I treated you like shit in high school.”

“No, you treated me worst than shit. You dogged me, Erik. Do you know how it feels to be beaten down by the nigga you thought you were in love with? No you don’t because everybody loved you.” Her voice had raised, he could tell that she didn’t give a shit about the mixed company they were in.

“Y/n.”

“Don’t Y/n me. I’m going to say what I should have been said, Erik. You fucked me in private. Used me like a sex toy and in public I was your verbal punching bag. And you set the tone for everyone else in high school. High school was hell for me.”

“What was I supposed to do about it? I was a kid, Y/n. I really feel like you’re overestimating my influence.”

“You were supposed to stop it, not add on to it.”

“Well I’m sorry. I truly am. I wasn’t perfect back then and I’m not perfect now and all I can do now is apologize.”

She shook her head, wiping under her eyes quickly. “It was so long ago, and I haven’t thought about it in years. I stopped being your victim a long time ago Erik….it’s just this reunion has brought up so many memories.” She took a deep breath and exhaled looking at him again. “I’m sorry too. I’ve been acting like a child.”

“Yes you have.” He joked, laughing when she shot a scowl his way. “I’m kidding. I understand your anger. I really do. It’s not right how I treated you, and if any man treated my daughter like that I’d kill him with my bare hands.”

“Your daughter? You got a child?” She looked surprised.

He smirked, “What if I said I did? What would that mean?”

“That you still haven’t learned to use condoms.” She shook her head, running her hand through her hair. She looked surprised, as if that wasn’t what she wanted to hear.

He smirked to himself.“I’m kidding. No kids yet. …Ain’t found the right woman…” He looked down her seated frame, biting down on his lip as his gaze settled on her hips and the thigh that had poked out of the slit on the dress. “And the woman I want to have my babies don’t want me.”

She was pointedly ignoring his blatant staring, choosing instead to scroll through her phone. “Well maybe you’ll have luck at the reunion. Remember that girl Monica? She’s been asking the facebook group if you were coming.”

He rolled his eyes and sat back in his seat, “Don’t nobody want Monica. Her breath was stank.” She chuckled and the sound warmed his soul.

The best times he could remember in high school was of her and him chilling in his car outside of her house. She would sneak out the window because her mom didn’t allow boys in the house and honestly didn’t like him one bit but she would take the chances of being caught outside with him anyway.

They would sit and listen to the radio, singing along with their favorite songs, and roasting the bad songs. They would sling insults back and forth until they ended up not being able to speak from laughing so hard.                

In tough times, she would be a warm shoulder to lean on, saying nothing that might make him close up when he happened to cry. In reverse, he would be there times when her dad would flake on her again or forget her birthday, or when her mom was just being too restrictive.

It was those times he remembered, even more than the sex they shared, those times where she was his best friend. He missed that.

“Her breath did used to be a little tart.” She spoke back looking at him.

“A little? The girl used to exhale and burn off people’s eyebrows.”

She laughed then, fully, holding onto her stomach. “You’re mean.”

“I’m honest.” He looked out the window. They still had about twenty minutes until they made it to the reunion. “So, where did you meet David?”

She looked at him and shook her head. “Uh uh.”

“Uh uh? What do you mean uh uh?”

“You are not fixin to clown my man, okay? No. I’m not letting it happen.”

“Ain’t nobody about to clown your man. …I mean I didn’t know you liked light skinned men but-

“See you’re already clowning him.”

He shook his head, “No, I was just joking. Seriously, tell me I want to know.”

She rolled her eyes, “Well if you must know, we met at a conference in Arizona.”

“So he’s in business?”

“No, tech actually. He was at the conference networking. At the time he was trying to startup this app, Nozzle. It’s a app that-

“I know about Nozzle.” Erik actually knew Nozzle pretty well seeing as he had invested some money in the startup a while back trying to get his portfolio up.

However, he didn’t remember seeing David’s name in the business plan. “So, he’s still working with Nozzle then?”

“Nah, they ousted him. He had a completely different vision than the other two men and they decided to part ways amicably.  He’s actually working on a festival idea, kind of like a black Coachella but not like Afropunk or anything. That’s why he’s not here right now. He had a meeting to attend with some investors.”

Erik couldn’t help but smirk, “A festival?”

“Don’t even-“

“I bet its going to be lit. …Straight…Fyre.”

“I’m not talking to you anymore.” She looked out of the window folding her arms again.

“Wait, wait. I’m just kidding.” He pulled one of her arms down, so she wouldn’t close up on him again. “Seriously though, he does know a new festival right now, it’s not the move.”

She sighed, “It’s legit though and he has a good plan for it. Nothing too extravagant. I’ve been working it out with him, setting up meetings for him.”

“Setting up meetings for him? You a secretary now?”

“Nah, I’m a good girlfriend. Why shouldn’t I help him if I can?”

Erik looked at her and then shrugged, “I mean, I guess. But…just don’t put none of your money in it.” When she didn’t say anything, he sighed. “How much?”

It was her turn to rub the back of her neck, “Uh…just 50,000 dollars.”

“50,000 dollars?”

“We got a loan, so he could have the capital to start moving stuff and showing investors he wasn’t coming in empty handed.”

“Oh my god, Y/n. The whole reason you get investors is so that you don’t have to get loans like that or at least so you can pay off the damn loan. How much has he paid off.”

“10,000.”

“Oh my godddd.” Erik wanted to die. He wanted to strangle Y/n, in the most loving way, for being so stupid and then he wanted to kill David. “He’s fucking scamming you and probably everyone else he’s talked to. Why did he get ousted from Nozzle?”

“I told you because they had different visions-“

“Nah, that’s what that nigga told you.” He pulled out his phone. “Send me a picture of him.”

“Why?” Erik rolled his eyes and tried hard not to snap at her, “Don’t argue with me right now. Send me a picture.” When she pulled out her phone he sighed.

“This nigga is running your name into the ground and you probably don’t even know it.”

“He’s legit Erik.” The airdrop notification came up on his phone and he accepted it, getting a fairly clear picture of David.

“We’ll see.” He pulled up an app that allowed him to search FBI databases, search engines, wanted ads, and many more places by picture and name.

“What’s his name?”

“David Johnson.” She had moved closer trying to see what he was doing on his phone. “Are you doing a background check on him?”

“Nah, but you should have.” He hit search and the app began trying to match David’s photo and name to anything they could.

“I can’t believe this. You’re so fucking smart, Y/n. You graduated summa cum lade and you’re nearly running that firm you’re at. I can’t believe that you can’t smell a scammer from a mile away.”

“How do you know all of that?”               

                     Before he could answer his phone dinged, he smirked pressing the article that came up. David Johnson was Gregory Malcolm, the man who was caught misappropriating funds from Nozzle. Who was still wanted by authorities in California, New York, and Georgia.

“Is David’s middle name Joanne?” He started looking down at the picture of David being escorted out of a building in handcuffs.

“No…why?”

“Cause your man’s a fucking scammer.”

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

(author’s note: just

and I hope that this part was not a total let down.) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

taglist: @halonahoney @scumyeol @fangirlingbookworm1 @elaindeereads @groovybbyyy  @holy-minseok  @ljstraightnochaser @chefjessypooh @sweet-epiphany85 @hold-me-like-a-heart-beat @tiava143

@chaneajoyyy​ @ raysunshine78   fuckmegoodbruhh ghostfacekill-monger  mellifluousbabe  browngirldominion

(i probably didn’t tag half the people that wanted to be tagged. sorry about that!)

[angrylizardjacket]

mouth full of white lies {Machine Gun Kelly} 4

4. i wanna know what’s your quietest feeling

Summary: So you’ve met his friends, and now his daughter, who’s the only other person who knows that this whole thing is a setup. But all she wants is to make sure that you’re not gonna break her dad’s heart; it shouldn’t be too hard to convince her that your intentions are good.

the brainstrust: @sataninsatin @silvertonguedserpent @juliarose21 @kellysimagines @estxxbritt @machine-gun-casie @harringtonstudios @misscharlottelee @narcvissa @hiworlditishumbleme @angelwarner28 @nevilles-insinuations @rumoured-whispers @mgkobsessed @edwardtriggerhandzz @suckerforbarnes @wastelcve @bakerkells @local-troubled-writer @freddiessmallnipples @oopsiedoopsie23 @mayaslifeinabox @mrs-machinegun-norris @hxbbit

----

Colson writes. A lot. You’d noticed it here and there being close to home, being close his studio, he’s buzzing with new ideas. There’s a ratty notebook that he keeps in the front pocket of his suitcase, held together by fibers and hope, that seems to be worth it’s weight in gold to him, full of lyrics and ideas that he’s been hoarding for as long as he’s been writing. About ten percent of the book has actually come to fruition, but that’s not what’s important about it, it’s that it’s positively brimming with potential as much as it is memories.

It’s been less than a year since his last album, and he’s made a few songs here and there, but now he writes, when inspiration strikes him, after work, or between takes. He’s in talks with Motley themselves, apparently, working on a part for one of their songs, rereleasing with the release of the film. For now, he writes, and he hums, and tests out lyrics under his breath.

“That sounds good,” it’s Sunday morning; he’s up earlier than you, which isn’t necessarily an unusual occurrence. He’s wearing sweatpants, hair curling a little at the ends where he’s letting it air dry, sitting up beside you on the bed. He’s got his notebook balanced on the one knee he’s got drawn up to him, while the other leg is kicked out in front of him, and he’s humming something while scrolling through his phone. He’s muttering something, lyrics you’re pretty sure, while something plays from his phone.

He seems a little surprised, like he’s coming out of a trance that the music had put him in, and smiles with an honest sincerity.

You yawn, and wiggle a little beneath the covers to properly face him, face half-smushed into the pillow. For a beat he looks at you like he wants to do something, like he wants to reach out and touch your cheek, trace his thumb across your lip - 

Wishful thinking. Probably.

“Rook’s been working on some stuff; he sent this through last night,” and he tapped away at his phone for a moment, replaying the track on his phone. It’s an instrumental, beat-heavy and the bones for a solid bop. You nod along to it, and he starts rapping under his breath again. 

“I think it could be something good,” he sounds quietly hopeful; he doesn’t sound like that often.

“Of course it’ll be good,” you say around a yawn, and this time he does reach out. 

“Go back to sleep,” he pinches gently at your cheek, and a warm rush of affection floods through you. Without thinking, you turn to press a quick kiss to his palm, a moment of gentle familiarity, and turn away, to go back to sleep, without thinking to watch for his reaction. You hear a faint, almost disbelieving huff of laughter, before the music starts back up again.

It’s not long before you’re ingratiated with his friends, who’ve all taken you and Colson in stride. Mostly it’s drinking and smoking and making music and playing video games, so even your initial anxiety is quick to fade.

That first morning, Wednesday, cool but sunny, it’s easy; Rook’s the only one awake when you and Colson arrive. He’s sitting at the kitchen island, perched on a stool with a pen stuck in his mouth, and a laptop and drum pad machine sitting on the counter, and when you walk in, he gives you a long, evaluative stare, a joint in between his fingers, idle.

“Hey man, this is Ducky,” Colson doesn’t seem to notice how you’ve frozen awkwardly in the doorway, moving past you to start searching the cupboards for food; Rook nods to him, before looking back at him, “Ducky, this is my man Rook,” and at that, he holds out his hand for the joint, and Rook passes it over, before looking back at you. You give a little, uncomfortable wave.

“Ducky?” He asks, curious rather than hostile, and you let yourself breathe, stepping into the room.

“Or Duck,” you explain, heading to the counter where Colson’s now wrestling with a packet of Doritos, “or [Y/N].” And you put your bag down, taking the seat beside Rook as Colson passes the joint back to him to get a better handle on the bag.

“Tight,” Rook says after a moment, apparently finding something in you that he approves of, because he follows it up by turning the laptop towards you, asking if you were into music. Of course you tell him you are - who isn’t? - but you don’t have a lot of experience in the production side of things.

“I mean,” you concede briefly, “about two years ago there was a trend going around on YouTube where you make a diss track about yourself -” Colson’s entire face lit up.

“You wrote a diss track about yourself? Don’t you do like cutesy vlogs and shit?” He asks, and it’s not meant to sound as unkind as it’s worded, though you still roll your eyes.

“It pays to be on trend,” you shrug, still a little embarrassed at the memory, “but it was fun.” 

Colson is looks actually impressed, while Rook is still chewing on the end of his pen, typing away frantically. After a beat, Colson turns to him -

“Her channel name is DuckDuckBooth -”

“I’ve already found the video,” Rook says with a smile, and you have to hide your face in your hands as they watch with equal parts fondness, and a little bit of second hand embarrassment.

Colson posts to his Instagram story a video of Rook jamming out to your self-diss track, before the camera swings around to see you flipping them both off with a fond smile. Your video is the only sound that can be heard for the full duration of the ten second video -

“Too scared of you’re face on the big, big screen, you think YouTube’s gonna be more stable / even though you use your bro for views every chance that you’re able. / With all of the time that you spend around sets, they all think you’re a professional stalker / and you spill you’re guts when you’re NDA free; you’ve made a career as Hollywood’s biggest talker. / [As if! Who asked for the Perez Hilton of the production crew?!]”

He tags both you and Rook, and captioned the video with a question: Should we remix Ducky’s self-diss track from 2016? With two options for fans to choose: Yes. or Definitely.

But Rook’s not who your worried about. None of Colson’s friends really worry you. 

Casie arrives a week and a half after you’ve all moved locations, to see her dad, to meet you, and to sit in on production for about a week. 

When you finally meet her, her cocked hip and crossed arms reminds you of Colson; she’s four and a bit feet of skepticism and an unmatched, effortlessly cool energy, and you realise too late that you’re kind of intimidated by an elementary schooler. 

“I’ve seen your videos,” is the first thing she says to you, and you find yourself smiling, bewildered. 

“Cas -” Colson’s voice holds a note of warning where he’s currently getting his tattoos covered. He’s standing with his arms out, looking straight ahead while Corey, the key makeup artist, and his team, airbrush and colour correct like their lives depend on it.

“I’m making sure she’s taking care of you,” Casie, unwavering in both her conviction and her loyalty, shifts her weight to her other foot. “The drum video was cute.” And you’re not quite sure if it’s a compliment, judging by the cool tone of her voice, but she’s wearing a slight smile that you’ve seen on Colson far too many times to not recognize it. This feels like the first of many tests.

She’s adamant that she’s not someone to be bought, though the thought had barely crossed your mind. When she nods approvingly at your dismissal of the suggestion, you can’t help but frown.

“How many girls have tried to get on her good side by buying her stuff?” You ask Colson quietly, out of Casie’s earshot later that night. For a moment, he looks as close to guilty as you’ve ever seen him.

“Not a lot, like one or two maybe; not a lot of girls meet her,” he admitted, “but the ones that try and buy her gifts and shit, they always turned out to be the worst ones,” and perhaps the guilt intensifies a little more, “she’s a good kid; always saw that before I could.”

“She’s a good kid,” you repeated, softer this time, with a faint smile, and when Colson comes back to reality, he gives your shoulder a squeeze.

She’s on set a lot for the days that she’s staying with you all, and when she sees you at work, she appears to warm to you; you’re not sure when you forgot that she was just a child trying to protect her father, but you’re reminded when you see the starry-eyed look she’s giving the makeup artists.

“Hey Corey,” you ask, smiling a little, and the makeup artist who had been in the middle of his lunch looks up from his phone with wide, alert eyes, “could one of your people give Casie here a little bit of 80s glam?” You ask sweetly, and his expression tuns fond as he nods. Casie turns wide-eyed and a little abashed at request, and murmurs that she doesn’t want to be any trouble. Both Corey and yourself wave away her concerns, and Amy, one of the makeup assistants, is more than happy to give the young girl a bit of glitter and gloss to the excited young girl.

She’s got glitter on her eyelids, and blush and highlighter adorning her cheeks, and a shiny, clear lip gloss making her smile that little bit brighter by the time the makeup woman is done with her, and Casie is practically glowing.

“How in the hell,” Colson starts with a grin when she goes to him to show off, “did I end up with the most stylish kid in the world? Cas, you look like a model.” Pride is radiating off of him in waves, and he pulls out his phone, “babe, get a picture, she looks so fuckin’ cool,” he enthuses, and if your heart skips a beat as his casual use of a pet-name, you’re enough of a professional not to let it show. Casie is calling him embarrassing, but is still beaming, and with him in full costume and her all made up, the picture you take - he’s standing behind her with his hands on her shoulders, and she’s got her arms crossed, both of them looking serious and menacing at the camera - you think they might be the coolest people you’ve ever met. Certainly one of the most photogenic father/daughter duos you’ve ever come across.

“Do not make it your phone background,” Casie presses her embarrassed smile into his shoulder where they’re reviewing the photo back in his trailer.

“But I’m not allowed to post it, and I wanna admire it every day - look at you!” He’s pointedly zooming in on her stony expression in the photo.

“[Y/N], tell him he’s being ridiculous,” Casie implored you, and you threw your hands up in surrender.

“I’m not allowed to say what is and isn’t a ridiculous phone background,” you say automatically, which piques both of their interests, and you immediately regret saying anything.

“Babe,” Colson says, prompting you, and you feel yourself growing flustered, both because you’re going to have to admit that your background is a photo of you two, and that he’s called you that twice in about half an hour. Casie’s amused now, smiling, her arms crossed as she raises her eyebrows at you expectantly. Taking a deep breath, you unlock your phone.

“I’m just trying to be a good girlfriend,” you say, avoiding their gazes as you show them your home screen, and your background; the paparazzi photo of you and Colson beneath the boardwalk.

“Is that how you organise your apps?” Is what Casie has to say, which has Colson snorting with laughter, though when you finally look at him, you see him wearing a weirdly pleased little smile.

“Ducky, that’s weird and adorable -”

“It’s not weird!” You protest, snatching back your phone, flustered, but Casie just rolls her eyes, pulling out her own phone.

“Come here, both of you,” she instructs, sounding terribly put upon by the both of you. You both crowd around her, with only slight confusion. “Look convincing.” She holds up her phone, and you both frown a little.

“What?”

“Look convincing,” she insists again, gesturing between the two of you, and finally coming to understand her meaning, Colson gives her an endeared, almost proud look, and you in turn are looking fondly at him. Neither of you have noticed that she’s already taken the selfie. After a beat, she lowers the phone and starts looking at the few photos she’d taken, and both you and Colson seem a little surprised at her speed. “Dad, I’ll send it to you, you send it to her; you can have a photo of both of us looking cool, and a photo of your ‘girlfriend’,” she explains with implicit air quotes, “and [Y/N], you don’t have to have a creepy pap’s picture as your background.” She taps away for a moment before swiftly sending the best photo to Colson, “plus you’ll match.”

“You’re a little genius,” you tell her once Colson’s sent you the photo. Casie beams at you.

“I know.”

And the way you’re smiling in the photo is more than convincing.

[ID: A series of three tweets from @machinegunkelly:

1: Retweeted with the caption ‘🥰🥰’, originally posted by @duckduckbooth with no caption: Two pictures of Rosa Diaz from Brooklyn 99 holding a golden retriever puppy with an edited caption reading ‘I’ve only known CASIE BAKER for a day and a half but if anything happened to HER I would kill everyone in this room and then myself.’

2: Tweeted: when me n my girls (my daughter and @duckduckbooth) hang out i realize i’m somehow the least fashionable in the group. when did that happen wtf 😳😳 

3. Tweeted: maybe you'll skip to the end and pass all the irrational decisions, patch up all the passion that was missin'. i think that's enough. i'm feelin' lovesick.

End ID.]

Maybe it’s that she likes you, maybe she’s just trying to keep an eye on you to make sure you’ve got her dad’s best intentions at heart, but Casie takes it upon herself to almost shadow you while on set, at least when she’s not with her dad.

“What’s your next video going to be?” She asks one afternoon when you’re both waiting for Colson in his trailer as he gets his makeup removed for the day. She’s watching a video on her phone and you’re reading emails on yours, and you look up, interested. After a moment, she pauses her video, looking up, looking back at you, “I like your ‘day in the life’ ones.” 

“I didn’t realise you liked my videos,” you said with faint amusement, and she gives a small smile.

“I’ve been binging them,” she admits, and shuffles a little, sitting up further where she’s reclining on the uncomfortable little sofa, “your editing is really nice; I liked your Euro-Disney video, it was really pretty.”

“Thanks,” you find yourself a little humbled at her compliment, and find yourself musing that you’d like to get back to that style of video, “hey,” you find yourself coming up with an idea, something Colson had said during your first actual date, and with Casie herself now here, it was the perfect opportunity, “do you wanna be in a video?”

“Hello! Hello and welcome back, ducklings! I’ve been feeling rather nostalgic for some of my older content, and was inspired by none other than Miss Casie Baker, so what better day than this beautiful Friday afternoon, to take you all along with Casie, Kells, and I as we head to a boardwalk fair.”

It’s a short drive to the boardwalk, and once you’re there, it’s almost unbearably cheesy. Rides, candy, you and Colson in competition trying to win a prize for Casie at one of the cheap game booths.

You’re filming on and off the whole time, getting aesthetic shots, your heart growing warmer with each genuine smile you manage to catch on camera. You take endless candid photos of Colson and Casie, and even though you know you can’t be out too late because you and Colson are due on set at eight, you make the most of the time you have.

After an hour and a half, you stop at the food vendor, craving hot chips, and Colson orders, while Casie takes your hand, the two of you hanging back.

"Can we go on the Ferris Wheel?"

"Just a minute kiddo, food's almost ready," Colson tells her over his shoulder, but she tugs at your hand, making her meaning more clear.

"You can catch up, we can go around twice; I wanna talk to [Y/N]," she tells him plainly, and you give her a smile, already acquiescing to her suggestion. Colson makes a noise of gentle protest, but he sees her hand in yours, and the reassuring look you've leveled at him. 

"Take care of my girl," he tells you with a faux seriousness, and Casie gives a small grin at that.

"I'll protect her with my life," you promise, leaning in to kiss his cheek. 

"You better," he grinned, tone fond and a little teasing, before assuring that he'd meet you both up there, and you're left wondering what about you screamed 'let's have a serious conversation on a Ferris Wheel' because if it happens again, it goes from a coincidence to a pattern. Casie drops your hand and trots easily through the crowd to the Wheel that had cast the rest of the fair in shadow as the sun set behind it. The ride operator gives you a toothy smile as she secures the door behind the two of you, and Casie links her fingers, resting her elbows on her knees, and her chin on her hands, evaluating you with an inscrutable look. She waits until the basket is about a quarter of the way around before saying anything; for your part, you’re silent, she’s the one who wanted to speak after all.

“Dad doesn’t do fake,” she says finally, sitting back, and lets you wonder in silence for a few moments, what that even means, “I know he did, I’m not blind or deaf, people… people talk to me. A lot. About things my dad’s done.” This piece of information has your expression souring - she’s just a kid - but she doesn’t seem bothered by it, she just seems… almost confused.

“I’m not going to -”

“I know.” She cuts you off before you can even voice what reassurance you could manage, “I’ve gathered that; you’re good. Better than probably any other girl who’s gotten with him for clout.”

“I’m not -” You try to protest and she does look a little apologetic, but after a moment, you stop yourself, and let her continue, trying to understand where she was coming from.

“I know why he likes you, I get it, you -” she averts her gaze for a moment, suddenly a little embarrassed, “you’re actually really cool,” she admits, and your heart softens, but you keep quiet, and let her build back up to her bravado, “but back when his manager had him with like, models and actresses and things, they were all - I mean sometimes they were nice, but they always thought they were better than him, or they just treated him like dirt when people weren’t around, so now, dad doesn’t do fake.” It’s said definitively. You’re at the top of the Ferris Wheel now, stopped for a few moments, and she looks out at the  rest of the fair, and then down to the base of the ride, letting herself smile when she spots Colson at the bottom, giving him a wave. 

Somehow, sitting in this basket in the sky, it feels like a mafia movie, like this little girl is implying she’ll break your kneecaps if you hurt her father. Or she’s implying something that your heart dare not read into, lest you get your hopes up.

“Dad doesn’t break his rules for just anyone,” Casie finally sits back up, and there’s a new, kinder quality about her voice, before it turns young, turns plaintive, and you’re reminded that she’s just a child looking out for her dad, her hero, “please don’t make him regret it. He’s a good person, I know what people say but he’s -”

“Casie, I care about him. A lot.” You tell her honestly, gently, and she blinks wide and surprised for a few moments, before her expression turns to almost weirdly pleased, maybe even a little smug.

“Good.” She says with conviction, before looking out at the horizon, “this would be a nice shot.”

“It’d be nicer with your dad,” you hear yourself saying, and Casie huffs out a laugh that sounds so much like her father, agreeing quietly. When your basket stops at the bottom of the wheel, Colson flashes his ride wristband to the kid operating it, and he slides into the seat beside you. Casie’s still smiling as she takes a chip from where he offered them.

“Nice chat?” He asks, and offers you the chips too. 

“I like her,” Casie announces, and you grin to yourself, “dad, I love you, but you’d better treat Duck right; we’re friends now.” Which sets Colson off laughing, and you turn on your camera.

“You were meant to be on my side,” he laughs, and Casie shrugs.

“I am, I’m on both your sides.”

[wistfulcynic]

all the perfect things (that i doubt)

SUMMARY: Zelena is defeated and Emma returns to her quiet life in New York with Henry, leaving Killian brokenhearted and her feelings for him unresolved. Three years later they meet again and quite a lot has changed—but will these changes push them further apart or help them find their way back to each other?

Canon divergence with no time-travel adventure.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @ohmightydevviepuu! You are brilliant and amazing and a fantastic writer and a kind friend, and so to honour the anniversary of your birth I have attempted to fill this VERY LONG one-shot with all the things you like best. There’s angst and second-chance romance and people needing to sort their shit out before finding their way back to each other and angst and emotions and erotica and did I mention angst? There’s also Tinkerhook and Captain Cobra (implied, but very much there) and oh yeah it’s a 3B divergence. AND the title comes from a song! I’ll Be Good by Jaymes Young, which is just about the most Killian thing to ever Jones. I hope that it leaves your boxes thoroughly ticked. 

Much gratefulness to @thisonesatellite​ and @katie-dub​ for invaluable suggestions and encouragement ❤️❤️❤️

Rated: M Words: 20k Tags: canon divergence, angst, smut, angst with a happy ending, minor mentions of suicidal thoughts

On AO3 

-

all the perfect things (that i doubt)

Emma parked her bug in front of the red brick row house and got out, hiking her tight skirt inelegantly as she did and teetering a bit on her towering heels as she climbed the steps to the small porch. She went inside and shut the door behind her, then leaned back against it with a small sigh. It was weird being back in Boston after three years in New York—four, really, if you counted the year she and Henry had spent there without their memories—and she hadn’t quite adjusted yet. New York was pretty much home now, or at least that’s what she regularly told herself, and Boston was… well…

Boston didn’t feel like home but it did feel familiar, the uncomfortable familiarity of something—or someone—that knew her far better than she wanted them to. Emma didn’t like places that knew her too well any more than she liked people who did. It was one of the reasons she’d chosen to sublet a place in Brookline—that and the generous relocation allowance her bail-bonds firm was paying—and even though she had to drive into the city every day to help set up the firm’s new Boston branch, coming home every night to a place that wasn’t technically Boston offered at least a small respite. 

She hung her keys on a hook by the door and kicked off her heels, flexing her toes in relief. It was only a six month placement, she reminded herself. Six months to get the new office up and running, then she could go back to New York and be comfortably anonymous again. 

“Mom, is that you?” Henry’s voice called and Emma grinned, following the sound into the living room. 

“Were you expecting someone else?” she teased, collapsing onto the sofa next to her son and putting her feet up on the coffee table. “How was the first day at the new school?” 

Henry closed the book he’d been reading and turned to her, his face lit up with excitement. “Fine, fine, the school’s good and kids seem cool, but Mom! You’ll never guess.” He bounced in his seat, almost vibrating with eagerness. Even at fifteen Henry hadn’t lost the enthusiastic nature she’d found so hard to resist in the ten-year-old who’d first come to find her in this city. Despite his occasional bouts of teenage sullenness. 

“Guess what?” she asked, smiling at him. 

“Guess who my astronomy teacher is.” 

“You’re taking astronomy?” 

“I need a science and it’s better than chemistry.” 

“Well, that’s true.” 

“It’s also not important,” said Henry, impatiently refocusing the conversation back to his question. “Guess who my teacher is! You never will!” 

“Um, Carl Sagan?”

“Mom, he’s dead!” 

“Oh.” Dammit, thought Emma. She’d been pleased with herself for managing to come up with the name. “Um, who’s the other guy? Neil something Tyson?” 

“Neil deGrasse Tyson, and no, come on, you’re not even trying.” 

Emma sighed. “Henry, I genuinely have no idea. Why don’t you just tell me?” 

“It’s Hook!” 

“Hoo—what?” Emma stared at him as her heart stumbled then began to pound. He couldn’t possibly mean Hook Hook, could he?

“Captain Hook!” Henry confirmed, and Emma’s heart took off at a gallop. “He calls himself Killian Jones of course and he doesn’t wear the hook anymore but it’s still definitely him! I couldn’t believe it!” 

“But I thought…” She took a deep breath to calm herself. “Isn’t he living in Storybrooke?” 

“That’s what I said! I mean, I’ve never seen him there but I just kind of assumed. But he said no, he’s lived in Boston almost three years!” 

“You—you talked to him?” Breathe, Emma.

“Well, yeah.” Henry shrugged. “It would have been rude not to. He didn’t exactly seem thrilled to see me, but he was nice. He said not to expect any special treatment in class though if I remembered what he taught me about using the sextant that one time it would be helpful. I mostly remember, so…” 

Henry chattered on and Emma tried her best to listen but her mind couldn’t focus. She felt breathless and chaotic, buzzing with confusion and with a strange eager excitement. Hook is here, was all she could think. Here. Here in Boston. Where she was. Here. Close by. Possibly very close. Her heart felt like it was trying to escape her chest, and she pressed the heel of her hand against it.

He was Henry’s teacher. Hook was a teacher. She tried to imagine that and found to her surprise that it wasn’t actually all that difficult. Obviously he wouldn’t wear his pirate coat in the classroom like in the image her frazzled brain insisted on conjuring, but he’d always been so good with Henry, she could easily imagine him teaching other kids.  

And he’s here, her brain kept reminding her. Here. Where you are. You can see him. You can see him. You can see him…

“…and he’s actually a really good teacher, he explains things so well.” Henry was still talking. “He says he teaches math too, I’m actually thinking I might try doing pre-calc with him, you know I wasn’t going to take that until we got back to New York, but I think he might be able to help me, and…”

“That’s great, kid.” Emma felt bad interrupting him when he was so excited but she couldn’t handle any more talking about Hook or thinking about Hook teaching Henry or about him talking to Henry or really just any thinking about Hook at all. “What do you want for dinner?” 

Henry’s eyes lit with a different sort of enthusiasm and Emma hid a grin. How to distract a teenage boy 101: Offer him food, she thought.

“Pizza from Dino’s,” said Henry decisively. “But since that’s not possible, how about something Boston-y that we can’t get in New York?” 

“Like what?” 

“How should I know, I’ve only been here once. You’re the one who used to live here.” 

“Um, baked beans? Clam chowder? Lobster roll?” 

“Pah,” he scoffed. “I can get lobster rolls in Maine.” 

“Well, how about clam chowder then?”

Henry looked dubious. “Okay,” he said. “I’m willing to try new stuff while we’re here. But if it’s gross, it goes on the list forever. Deal?” 

Emma laughed. “Deal.” 

…

Later that night when Emma finally gave up after hours of tossing and turning in her bed, kicked off the covers and went to her laptop, she knew what she was going to do. She didn’t exactly like it, but she knew it, and as she opened the website for Henry’s school she didn’t hesitate. She clicked on ‘Staff Directory’ and scrolled through the list of teachers’ names and then she caught her breath. 

It wasn’t that she hadn’t believed Henry, just that in the first flush of shock at hearing his name again she hadn’t really been able to process the reality of Hook being here, in Boston, in a normal place with a normal job and presumably a normal life. Not until she actually saw his name, right there on the screen, with her own eyes. 

Killian Jones. Mathematics and Astronomy. Latin Club. Debate Team.

With slightly trembling fingers she clicked on it, releasing the breath she’d been holding and gasping in another immediately after as her heart stumbled once more and began to pound against her ribs. The picture was in black and white and tiny, just a thumbnail, but it was unmistakably him. Still with the scruff though his hair looked neater, no eyeliner of course but he’d kept the earring—a small stud barely visible in the tiny photo. And somehow, somehow he still had that look in his eye… the one that promised excitement and adventure and fun… Emma squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head to clear it. When she opened them again the look was still there. His students must love him, she thought. What kid wouldn’t want a pirate as their teacher?

She closed the school’s website and opened the professional one she used to dig up information on her skips. Using it to investigate anyone else was unethical enough that she could be fired for doing it but she was prepared to take the risk. He was teaching her son, she told herself. She had information about him that the school district did not. She had to make sure he wasn’t still doing… pirate-y stuff. Yeah, that was it. That was the reason.  

Ten minutes later she had his home address and cell number, his personal email and links to his social media accounts. Or rather, his account. Singular. He didn’t have Facebook or Twitter, which wasn’t particularly surprising she supposed, but he did have Instagram. She clicked on the link and a small smile curved her lips as her screen filled with images of the Massachusetts coastline.

He liked to take pictures of the sea. This was also unsurprising. But although various boats and ships featured prominently in many of his photos none of them were the Jolly Roger, and that did surprise her. What had he done with his ship, she wondered. Probably left it in Storybrooke; it wasn’t like he could sail a pirate ship around Boston harbour. Though he had sailed it to New York… She frowned. Hook loved that ship, it had been his home for literal centuries. Emma couldn’t imagine him just leaving the Jolly and moving someplace else. 

It was just… weird, the whole freaking thing. Hook’s presence here, his job, the quiet life he seemed to be living, his absent ship. It was a mystery, and mysteries had never sat well with Emma. Before she could talk herself out of it she copied his home address and pasted it into Google Maps, and when the results appeared on the screen she gave a wry snort. He lived a few blocks away from her sublet. Because of course he did. 

Good, she thought. It was good that he lived so close. That way, when she went to his house to confront him tomorrow she’d be able to walk there and pick up some dinner on the way home. 

…

Hook, as it turned out, lived in a very nice house on a very nice street in a very nice neighbourhood. A very nice neighbourhood, Emma thought, looking around as she strolled down the sidewalk trying to look casual and not as out of place as she definitely felt. Quiet and well-kept, with tall trees and flowers and carefully tended lawns. Not at all the kind of place you’d expect would appeal to a fairy tale pirate. 

His house was made of red brick in a sharp and tidy style, with white-framed windows and black shutters and a white portico with actual freaking columns at the top of the red brick steps. It was completely bizarre to think of him living there but also made an odd kind of sense. The house’s unfussy symmetry and clean colours gave it a nautical sort of air, and aside from a few shrubs on either side of the porch the lawn was neatly kept but bare. He’d always kept things neat, she remembered. 

 Emma’s heart was galloping again, her hand trembling as she rang the bell. She could hear it echo through the house and panic gripped her chest, and she wondered wildly if it was too late to turn around and run away. Then the door swung open and her mind went blank. 

His eyes were exactly as she remembered them, as blue as the ocean he so loved and just as deep, their expression shuttered now but still compelling. Still beautiful. They stared at each other for a breathless moment as she scrambled to think of something, anything to say to him, then he stepped back and held the door open. 

“Come in, Swan,” he said, and her heart beat even faster at the sound of her name in his voice, “I’ve been expecting you.” 

“You—you have?” 

“Aye.” He smiled wryly. “Ever since Henry appeared in my class yesterday. I knew your curiosity wouldn’t allow you to stay away for long.” 

He ushered her into a living room that was as tidy as his cabin on the Jolly Roger had been, with broad-planked hardwood floors and one wall lined with bookshelves. A large, comfortable-looking sofa sat at the centre of the room and Killian gestured to it. “Have a seat. Can I get you anything to drink? Coffee, tea, beer?” 

“Beer.” Emma latched on to the idea of alcohol like a lifeline. “I think I could use one.” 

“Aye,” he replied. “As could I.” 

He disappeared through a door in the corner of the room as Emma sank weakly onto the sofa and tried to calm her frantic heartbeat. A minute or two later Hook returned with two brown bottles, handed one to her then sat on the opposite side of the sofa and took a long drink from the other. Emma drank as well, surreptitiously studying him from the corner of her eye as she did. 

He was wearing jeans. Well-worn, soft looking ones. And a t-shirt in a similar condition with ‘Boston College’ across the front in faded letters. 

“Boston College,” she blurted, desperate to fill the stretching silence. 

“Pardon?” 

“Your shirt. Boston College.” 

“Oh, aye.” He looked down and shrugged. “Where I studied.” 

“But—you didn’t,” said Emma, feeling thoroughly off-kilter. “You couldn’t have. Did you?” 

“Obviously I didn’t,” he replied. “But I have both memories and official documentation that says otherwise. Courtesy of Tink.” 

“Tink?” Emma frowned, both at his words and the nasty tendril of jealousy that curled in her gut. 

“Indeed. She gave me what I needed to start a new life in this realm. Much as Regina once did for you.” 

“But—Regina did that for me as part of a curse. How did Tink… for you..?” 

He shrugged again. “Damned if I know. I try not to ask too many questions where magic is concerned. We… rekindled our old companionship after you left. She knew I wanted to leave Storybrooke and once her magic was fully restored she offered to help me do that. The results are as you see. She gave me what she said was the same realm-specific knowledge Regina gave the Storybrooke residents she cursed, along with an identity and accompanying memories so I could get a job outside of Storybrooke.” 

“But—” Emma’s head was spinning, the jealous tendril writhing like a snake. “Why did you want a job outside of Storybrooke?” 

“There’s nothing for me in that town,” he replied, in echo of the last time they’d sat like this, drinking together. “Why would I stay?” 

“Well… I mean…” 

He drank again, deeply, and she tried not to watch his throat work as he did. “I saw an opportunity for a fresh start in a new place,” he said. “One that thinks Captain Hook is an object of ridicule with a perm and a waxed moustache.” He smirked wryly though anger flared in his eyes. 

“You saw that, did you?” 

“And read the book.” He drank again. “And as much as I may like to wring the neck of this J.M. Barrie, he did in a roundabout way afford me the chance to slip unnoticed into this realm and become someone new. And so I did.” 

“I’ll say you did. A high school teacher?” 

“And why not?” he challenged. “You’ve said yourself I’m good with children. And I enjoy it. It’s honest work, and rewarding.” 

Emma shook her head, struggling to get to grips with everything he was saying and everything she was seeing in him. He looked so familiar; even with the drastic wardrobe change his face and his hair and his voice were all just as she remembered. But he was different. A kind of different that couldn’t be explained away by the knowledge Tink had given him or his new life. His face and eyes were so expressionless, his body language cool and distant. She couldn’t detect event the smallest hint of the flirtatious pirate who used to invade her space whenever he could, always challenging her, always understanding her, always watching her with that unnervingly intense focus—like he wanted to uncover every inch of her. That man seemed so thoroughly absent from the one now sitting opposite her that for a moment Emma wondered if she had imagined him.

“Well, you seem to be good at it,” she said brightly. “Henry can’t say enough good things about your class. He’s thinking of taking another one with you, actually. Pre-calculus.” 

“Aye. I’ve already approved his request. He’ll start tomorrow.” 

“So are you as good a math teacher as you are an astronomy one?” She made her voice light, teasing, edging into flirtatious, hoping to draw out the pirate—even just a brief glimpse of him, just for a moment. Hook’s face remained impassive.  

“I do my job to the best of my ability in every class I teach,” he replied, then drained the last of his beer and set the empty bottle on the sea chest in front of the sofa. Emma sipped hers, feeling cold and confused and with a sharp ache of loss in her chest.  

Hook leaned back against the arm of the sofa and gave her a hard look. “So is your curiosity appeased, then, Swan?” he asked. “Do I pass muster? May I be allowed to continue with my job and my life?” 

She frowned, hurt by the harsh sarcasm in his tone. “I didn’t come here to—to investigate you,” she said, forgetting that this was the exact excuse she’d given herself for her visit. “I just wanted to see you.” I’ve missed you, she did not say. I thought maybe you’d missed me too. 

“And now you have,” he replied. “Is that all?” 

“I—I guess so.” Emma put her own beer on the table though the bottle was still mostly full. “I guess I’ll be going.” 

“I’ll see you out.” 

He could sound less eager about it, she thought, following him to the door. He opened it for her and she looked at him again, at this man so familiar and yet so strange, and realised that even though he was standing right in front of her she still missed him. She missed him. 

On impulse she leaned in close and wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly and kissing his cheek. His scruff was surprisingly soft beneath her lips and she heard him catch his breath, felt him flinch as if to hug her in return then stop himself. She lingered as long as she dared before stepping back, and when she looked into his eyes again she caught her own breath. 

There was the heat she’d started to think she had imagined. Heat and longing and that edge of danger that even a black and white thumbnail photo couldn’t disguise. In that split second he looked like he wanted to devour her, his breath hot on her cheek as he leaned closer, his eyes blazing with everything she had missed about her pirate. 

Then he blinked and his eyes were shuttered again. He grabbed her arms roughly, pulling them from around his waist and shoving her away, towards the open door. “Well, thanks for stopping by, Swan,” he said, not looking at her. “So nice to see you again. Tell Henry I said hello and not to forget his astronomy homework. Goodbye.” He shut the door behind her and she heard the click of the lock turning.

She fought the urge to cry all the way home. 

…

Killian leaned back against his front door and slowly slid down it, squeezing his eyes shut and letting his head drop into his shaking hand. Tremors racked his body and his chest was so tight he struggled to draw in gasping breaths. 

Three years. Three years since she’d left Storybrooke, left him, returned to the life she’d had when she couldn’t remember him and never looked back. Three years since she’d shattered his heart. 

Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, he thought bitterly, she walks into mine. He should have taken that job in Montana instead. Emma would surely never show up there. 

Of course, he hadn’t thought she’d show up here either, not in this city she’d already lived in and left. Emma wasn’t the sort of person to go back to places—or people—she’d put behind her. He’d thought he was safe here. 

It seemed he’d thought a lot of things that weren’t actually true. That he could withstand seeing her again, for one. That he was prepared. He’d coached himself, steeled himself, buried his feelings deep and locked them away. And all it took was one brief press of her body against his, one gentle brush of her lips across his cheek to break right through his carefully constructed defences and reduce them to dust. 

Tears prickled behind his eyes and he blinked them angrily away. He would not weep over Emma Swan, he told himself firmly, not again. Not today. Instead he would pull himself together again just as he had in Storybrooke, as he did every time thoughts of her overwhelmed him, and he  would get on with his life. Now that she’d seen him surely her curiosity would be assuaged and she wouldn’t return. He could find his peace again. 

…

The next morning Killian walked to work, a thing he did as often as possible. It wasn’t that he disliked driving, quite the contrary in fact. Cars, in keeping with many of the mechanical innovations of this realm, fascinated him, and aside from his house his car was the one possession in which he had truly indulged. 

In the staid upper-middle-class neighbourhood where he lived his sleek gunmetal-grey Aston Martin was almost acceptable, not outrageous enough to give his neighbours anything to actually complain about but more than sufficient to irk them in a way they couldn’t quite articulate when he zipped along their tree-lined streets with the top down. Had they known that the money he’d used to buy it was ill-gotten pirate treasure magically converted into the currency of their realm, they would have been even more displeased. The thought of that delighted Killian nearly as much as the car herself. 

And his car did delight him; the powerful hum of her engine and the way she responded to the smallest twitch of her wheel was the closest thing he’d yet found in this world to standing at the helm of the Jolly Roger in full sail. He’d purposely chosen a convertible for the feel of the wind through his hair, and as often as possible he took her out of the city, driving far too fast along quiet country roads and almost hoping the local police would catch him doing it. 

Once a pirate always a pirate, at least in some small ways. 

But still he preferred to walk to work. Idling in traffic was an insult to his car and a waste of her skills and anyway the walk was not a long one—hardly more than a good stretch of the legs, as Liam would have said. It took him barely twenty minutes along the shortest route and less than half an hour even if he stopped for coffee first.  

That morning, he stopped for coffee. He’d not slept well, too plagued by thoughts of Emma and then by dreams of her to manage any real rest. His eyes felt gritty and his head ached, and though the walk in the brisk morning air cleared some of the cobwebs from his brain it hadn’t made much of a dent in anything else. 

He ordered his usual black coffee and a not-so-usual blueberry muffin. The intense sweetness of breakfast foods in this realm he didn’t generally care for but this morning he needed a boost of something and sugar seemed as good a thing as any, despite the inevitable mid-morning crash it would bring. There were always donuts in the staff room, perhaps later he’d finally give one of those a try. Anything to get him through this day. 

He took his coffee and the bag with the muffin from the barista with the best approximation of a smile that he could manage and wished her a good day. She blushed. 

“Thank you, sir,” she said, and Killian shook his head as he turned to go. When had it come to pass that he, the erstwhile Captain Hook, was referred to as ‘sir’ by sweet and blushing young women? Probably right about the time he’d stopped calling himself Captain Hook. 

Still, the blush and her shy smile brightened his mood and he was just thinking that perhaps this day might not end as dreadfully as it had begun when he walked through the cafe’s outer door and straight into Emma. 

Coffee sloshed from his cup and onto his hand and he barely managed not to drop it or his muffin as he caught her around the waist with his prosthetic before she could fall, hissing in a breath at the feel of her pressed against him for the second time in less than twenty-four hours. She gave a small cry and grabbed his shoulders for balance, her eyes wide and startled. 

“Hook!” she gasped. 

“Killian,” he snarled, using the arm around her waist to steer her out of the path of the other people trying to get into the cafe. “I’d prefer it if you didn’t use that name anymore, particularly not in public,” he hissed, low for her ears only. 

“What, you think someone’s going to recognise you?” She smirked. “You don’t have enough hair for that.” 

“This isn’t a joke, Swan,” he said harshly. “I’ve left that man and his name behind me, and I don’t particularly care to be reminded of them.” Her fingers flexed on his shoulders and with a start he realised that they were still standing close together, his arm tight around her waist. He released her and stepped back so abruptly she stumbled, and cleared his throat before he spoke again. “What are you doing here, anyway?” he asked, though he had a terrible suspicion he already knew the answer. 

“Getting coffee,” she replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “This place was recommended in all the neighbourhood guides.” 

Neighbourhood bloody guides. “So you live nearby, then,” he said through gritted teeth. 

“Yep. About three blocks that way.” She gestured vaguely behind her. “I’m working in Boston, though. Setting up a new office of my bail bonds firm. What about you?” 

“You know where I live.” 

“Yeah, but I mean are you headed to work already? Isn’t it a bit early?” 

“The school day begins at 7.30, Swan, as I would expect you to know, being the parent of one of my students,” he said shortly. “And I am now officially running late. If you’ll excuse me.” He turned to go. 

“Killian.” Emma caught his arm and he flinched, both from the feel of her hand on him and the way she said his name. 

“What?” he snapped. 

“Can we—look, can’t we just—” 

“Spit it out, love.” He risked a glance at her, his fingers tightening on the muffin bag as their eyes met. 

“Can’t we be friends?” she burst out. “Please?”

 He stared at her for an incredulous moment and then the fury he’d been so carefully holding back exploded in his chest. He rounded on her, backing her up against the fence of the cafe’s outdoor seating area, keeping his voice low so as not to draw attention, spitting the words in her ear. 

“No, Swan, we cannot be friends,” he hissed. “We have never been friends.” 

It was far too tame a word, he thought, too tame a concept to ever encompass the complex tangle of emotions that Emma inspired in him. They had always been both more than friends and a good deal less, and as far as Killian was concerned she’d thrown away the more when she turned her back on him three years ago. The less was all that remained. 

They were standing much too close again, close enough that he could see the flecks of gold in her eyes and hear the rasp in her breath and he was so tempted, so bloody tempted to give in. To agree to be her friend and anything else she wanted, to accept whatever scraps of affection and attention she was willing to spare him and be grateful for them. But he’d accepted those terms before and they had all but broken him. 

With a massive effort he reined in his anger and stepped back, drawing a deep breath to calm himself. “As it appears that we are neighbours of a sort, I don’t doubt we’ll see each other around,” he said. “When that happens I will nod politely to you and exchange pleasantries about the weather and Henry’s progress in school and perhaps the latest performances of Boston’s various sports teams. Beyond that I can’t imagine that we would have anything to discuss.” 

He spun on his heel and stalked away, leaving her leaning against the fence, trembling and once more on the verge of tears. She stared at the door of the cafe for a long moment before turning away, no longer hungry but with an aching emptiness inside her that she had no idea how to fill. 

…

As he had predicted, Emma ran into Killian everywhere she went, or at least that’s how it felt. After their third encounter at the cafe—each at a different time—she’d started arriving early and lurking in her car until she saw him leave before venturing in herself. Even with that precaution she still spotted him at the grocery store and at the bank, and at the only pizza place in town Henry deemed acceptable as a temporary stand-in for Dino’s. He was everywhere she turned, nodding civilly at her each time they met and making a bland remark, his face and eyes so expressionless it made her want to claw at something. Preferably at him. 

Finally after two awkward weeks Emma found a welcome distraction, a temporary one but at least it was something to take her mind off Killian for one night: a skip that was a perfect target for a honey trap of the kind she hadn’t pulled in far too long. Anticipation buzzed in her veins as she approached the restaurant where they were set to meet, a swankier one than she usually preferred for these sorts of things but the skip was a banker who was clearly out to impress. 

Emma was out to impress too, in a dark red strapless dress that hugged every curve and heels that made her legs look endless. Her hair was perfectly curled and her makeup on point, and she flashed a smile at the doorman as she strode in, feeling slightly reckless and more confident than she had in some time, and completely failing to notice the woman standing just inside the doors until she’d bumped into her. 

“Oh, sorry!” she said, catching the woman’s arm as she stumbled. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.” 

“No problem,” replied the woman with an apologetic laugh. “I probably shouldn’t be standing in the doorway, but my boyfriend’s running late which is really not like him, and I’m not entirely sure what to do with myself while I wait.” 

She was a very pretty woman in a wholesome sort of way, with golden brown hair and dark blue eyes, and a warm smile that Emma couldn’t help responding to. 

“Well I hope he turns up soon,” she said, smiling back. 

“I’m sure he will,” replied the woman. “Have a great night!” 

“You too.” 

The skip was waiting for her at the bar, with a martini for himself and a glass of white wine for her. Emma ground her teeth behind a brilliant smile. Men who ordered for women without consulting them were the worst kind of assholes. She was going to enjoy nailing this fucker’s balls to the wall. 

“White wine!” she exclaimed, settling gracefully onto the barstool next to him and crossing her legs, making sure a generous portion of thigh was on display. “How’d you know?”

“I know what the ladies like,” he replied with a smirk he probably thought was charming. 

“You sure do.” Emma picked up the wine glass and took a sip, not missing the way his eyes lingered on her mouth as she did. She set the glass down and ran her fingertip along its rim, looking up at the skip through lowered eyelashes. “So tell me about yourself,” she cooed. 

“Well, I work for the biggest bank in the city…” he began, and Emma widened her eyes in feigned interest. From the corner of one of them she caught sight of the woman from earlier approaching a small table not far from the bar, accompanied by a dark-haired man who had his hand at the small of her back and was leaning down to whisper in her ear. Emma smiled to herself, glad that the woman’s boyfriend had finally showed, and then she got a good look at him. 

Killian. 

Emma’s heart stumbled and she froze, her eyes fixed on the couple as they arrived at their table. The woman was holding a pink rose, sniffing it with a soft smile as Killian pulled out her chair for her and kissed her cheek as she settled into it. He spoke a few words to the hovering waiter who nodded eagerly and scurried away, then sat down next to the woman and took her hand, lacing their fingers together and murmuring something that had her blushing and sniffing the rose again. 

My boyfriend’s running late… my boyfriend… boyfriend… the woman’s words rang in Emma’s ears as she watched them. They looked comfortable together but still with an undercurrent of excitement, like the relationship was new but not too new. Killian must have been dating this woman for at least a few months. Long enough for her to know that it wasn’t like him to be late, and not to feel insecure when he was. Long enough for her to casually call him her boyfriend. 

The waiter reappeared with a bottle of wine and a small vase for the rose. The woman laughed when he set it down in front of her and the look she gave Killian made Emma’s heart ache. The waiter poured their wine and they clinked their glasses together, then settled into what appeared to be easy and pleasant conversation. 

Killian looked… not precisely happy, Emma thought. But he looked content. Relaxed and at ease in a way she’d never seen him be before. He smiled often as the woman spoke and there was no flirtation in it, no smirk or leer or defensiveness. Just simple smiles from a man enjoying the company of his date. 

“Hey,” said the skip, snapping his fingers in front of her face. “You’re not even listening to me.” 

“Sorry.” Emma dragged her eyes away from Killian and tried to focus on her mark. She needed to stay sharp to spot the moment when she could jump in and cuff him with the least amount of fuss. It would be better if she could get him outside first; he looked like a runner and although she’d taken the precaution of clamping his car she didn’t really want to cause a commotion in a restaurant this nice. He started in again boasting about his job and she did her best to appear attentive but she couldn’t keep her eyes from darting back to Killian. That woman had seemed so nice, sweet and friendly and she didn’t even know who he was, thought Emma with a burst of anger. She didn’t know anything about him, not about his past and the terrible things he’d done… or about the losses he’d suffered… the way he could read her like an open book… how he used to look at her… the way he kissed…

Oh she knows exactly how he kisses, whispered a nasty little voice in the back of her head. And a lot more.   

Emma snarled at that thought, clenching her fist on her wine glass so hard that the stem snapped and its jagged point sank deep into her palm. 

“Ow!” she cried, loudly enough that several people at the neighbouring tables turned to stare. She didn’t look at Killian—she couldn’t—but she could sense his eyes on her and for a crazy moment she wished she still had magic and could disappear in a puff of smoke. 

“What the hell,” said the skip, glaring at her. “What is wrong with you?” 

“Nothing! I just—it just broke.” 

“You’re bleeding everywhere.” His lip curled in disgust but he made no move to help her. 

“Sorry,” she said. “I—I’m sorry.” 

“Fuck this,” said the skip, tossing back the rest of his drink and standing up. “You’re really hot but no lay is worth this much effort.” He tossed some money on the bar and walked away. 

“No—wait!” Emma tried to follow but as soon as she stood up a jolt of pain shot through her hand and made her woozy. Her wound was bleeding profusely now, dripping into the spill of white wine on the bar and turning it pink. The bartender was frantically trying to mop up the mess with one hand and waving a handful of cocktail napkins at Emma with the other. 

“Ma’am…”  he said faintly, “please don’t bleed on the upholstery…” Emma took the napkins and tried again to pursue the skip. She squeezed the paper against her palm in an attempt to stop the bleeding but her wound twinged agonisingly under the pressure and she stumbled, crying out again, and then a warm hand gripped her elbow. 

“Swan,” said Killian’s voice in her ear. “Let him go.” 

“No—he’s a skip—he’ll get away—” 

“You can’t chase him down with a bleeding puncture wound on your hand,” said Killian impatiently. “Let him go. You’ll get him another day.” 

Emma looked up at him, her head spinning from the combined effects of pain and blood loss, and his touch on her skin. He eased her back onto the barstool and she didn’t protest, sitting quietly as he took the napkins and dipped them into a glass of water he must have brought from his own table. Cradling her hand in his prosthetic one he gently dabbed the blood from her wound, easing out a tiny shard of glass that had been lodged within it. 

“You should get this seen to properly,” he said, his voice deep and gruff. “But I suppose you won’t.” 

“I hate doctors.” 

“Very understandable, but it might get infected. At least wash it well when you get home.” 

“In rum?” she challenged, hoping to rile him. He didn’t look up. 

“No need,” he said. “A good antibacterial soap should do the trick.” 

He finished rinsing the wound and set the used cocktail napkins aside, pulling a large cloth one from his pocket. She caught her breath as he wrapped it several times around her hand and secured the ends in a tight knot. His new prosthetic moved, she noted vaguely. Much more useful than a hook. No need to use his teeth. 

“There,” he said, stepping back. “That should do it.” 

Emma’s chest was aching, her mind whirling with how familiar and yet how strange this felt. Never, in all the times she’d thought of him over the past three years, not once had she imagined a situation in which Killian Jones didn’t flirt with her. Didn’t challenge her. Didn’t even fucking look at her. Flirty Hook she could handle, and cocky Hook. Even hot as fuck Hook breathless and wrecked after their kiss in Neverland she could handle. But this calm and controlled man who bandaged her hand without once looking at her face, this man she absolutely could not. She had no idea even what to say to him.

“I guess you think I should thank you,” she snapped. Her pain and confusion were too raw, too much for her to process right now. Anger was easier. It was hot and clean and she had more than enough to spare. 

Anger flashed across Killian’s face as well and she felt a perverse thrill at the sight of it. Good, she thought, he should be angry. She wanted to make him furious. 

“Don’t trouble yourself,” he snarled. “I have no need of any gratitude from you.”  

She hissed in a breath sharp with hurt and they glared at each other, the air thickening with the tension between them, brittle and volatile and unbearable.  

“Killian,” said a small, quiet voice, and they both turned to see the woman standing awkwardly a few feet away, twisting her hands together. “I’ve paid the bill,” she said. “I—I’m going to go.” 

The anger drained from Killian’s face, replaced by regret and guilt and a deep sorrow that made Emma feel ashamed. “Aye,” he said. “I’ll accompany you.” 

For a moment Emma thought the woman would refuse, but then she gave a small nod. Killian offered her his arm and she slid hers through it, and they left the restaurant together, not looking back. 

Emma shifted uncomfortably, feeling as if a million eyes were watching her. She swept the room with a defiant glare and as soon as Killian and the woman disappeared through the doors she headed towards them herself. With any luck she’d still be able to catch the skip before he could get the clamp off his car. She hoped so. She hoped he ran when she confronted him. She hoped he fought back and gave her an excuse to punch him in his stupid smug fucking face.

…

Killian dropped Anabel at her door with a kiss on the cheek and an apologetic smile, hating himself for the hurt confusion in her eyes. 

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said, squeezing her hand. She gripped his fingers hard. 

“Who is she?” she whispered. 

Guilt stabbed at him, followed by suffocating regret. He genuinely and deeply cared for Anabel, and he’d tried so bloody hard to be happy with her. He was almost happy, as close as he could remember being for the best part of three centuries, and so naturally he’d gone and buggered it the first chance he got. One glimpse of Emma pale and bleeding had wiped Anabel and his hard-won contentment and every other bloody thing clean out of his mind, and he had acted without a thought for anyone but her. 

“Someone from my past,” he replied. “I haven’t seen her in years. I thought I’d put her behind me but—” 

“You still love her,” said Anabel flatly. It wasn’t a question. 

Killian sighed. He really didn’t want to talk about this here, or now, or ever, but he owed Anabel the truth. 

“I don’t know how to stop.” 

She nodded, blinking hard as tears filled her eyes. He pulled her into his arms, tucking her head against his shoulder, soothing her as they fell. “I’m so sorry, Bela,” he said softly. “I care so much for you and I truly thought that we could—” 

She pulled out of his embrace and shook her head. “Don’t,” she said. “Don’t make any decisions now. Sleep on it. Talk to her, figure out whatever needs figuring. I’ll wait.” 

“I couldn’t ask you to—” 

“I’ll wait, Killian.” She leaned up and kissed him softly on the lips. “You’re worth it.” 

…

You’re worth it. Those words followed Killian home, chased him through his door and straight to his stash of rum. He’d mostly given up drinking it, needing to be sharp for his classes and limiting himself to a beer or two when he wanted to relax, but there were times that simply called for the hard stuff. 

He poured himself a generous glassful and tried not to let the words ring in his ears. You’re worth it. It was worrying, how hard such things still were for him to hear. No one had thought him worth much of anything for so long that he’d come to believe it himself. To internalise it, in the terminology of this realm.

He knew of course that he had some good qualities. He was intelligent and quick to learn, resourceful and decisive and courageous. A man couldn’t survive centuries in command of a pirate crew without at least a few of those attributes. But they counted for little when his shortcomings were constantly cast up at him by the one person he most wished to impress. Well you are a pirate… I’ve got magic, he’s got one hand… let me guess, with you?

Emma had certainly never thought he was worth much. Not worth staying in Storybrooke for. Not worth taking a chance on. Not worth loving. 

While he, fool that he was, could never stop loving her. 

He was deep into his fourth glass when his doorbell rang, and he knew without even looking who it was. Ignore it, whispered his sensible voice in his ear, but Killian was too drunk and too angry for the sensible option. 

The moment the door swung open Emma charged in, shoving him back and slamming it behind her. She rounded on him, fisting her uninjured hand in his shirt collar and pulling him against her. 

“I lost my skip because of you,” she hissed. 

In her heels and his stocking feet they stood eye-to-eye, pressed together from chest to knee, and every nerve in Killian’s body screamed in pleasure at the contact. He grabbed her hand and yanked it off him, pushing her away so forcefully she nearly fell. “You lost your skip because you broke your glass,” he snapped. “It was nothing to do with me.” 

“You distracted me. While I was working.” 

He glared at her. “What are you on about? I was having dinner, or about to—”

“You were flaunting that woman—” 

“Flaunting?”

“With the rose and the pulling out her chair and—” 

“That is simply how I treat the women I date, Swan,” he said, stepping closer to her again, backing her against the wall.  

Emma’s cheeks flared bright pink but she didn’t back down. “What, even when I’m not watching?” she sneered. 

“I wasn’t aware you were watching tonight!”  

“Oh, like you didn’t notice me as soon as you walked in.” 

Her breath was coming in short pants, the tips of her breasts brushing against his chest with each inhale, and his lust clawed inside him like a living thing desperate to get out. Killian leaned in until their lips were almost touching, torturing himself with her little gasp and the way her eyes darkened. “No, actually,” he growled. “I didn’t.” 

He pushed away from the wall and smirked at her. “I know this is difficult for you to grasp, love, but not everything in my life revolves around you,” he said harshly. “Until two weeks ago I thought I’d never see you again.” 

“Oh, so you just happened to be out on a date at the same place I was?” 

“That place being my girlfriend’s favourite restaurant, where we’ve dined many times before, you mean?” 

Emma’s lip curled. “Your girlfriend—”

“Aye. Of nearly a year.” 

“—you expect me to believe that Captain Hook has a girlfriend?” 

“No, Killian Jones has a girlfriend,” he hissed, stepping closer again. “What, Swan, did you imagine I would pine away in celibacy forever because you wouldn’t have me?” 

“Of course not! That was never—we were never—” 

Abruptly all his anger, his frustration, his lust, the electric thrill of sparring with her again drained away, leaving him numb but for the gnawing ache in his heart. “Indeed,” he said, and turned away. “We were never.” 

“That’s not what I meant, Killian.” 

“Isn’t it?” 

He stalked into the kitchen and retrieved his glass of rum, tossing it back and refilling it with a hand that was not quite steady. Before he could pick it up again Emma appeared at his elbow, whisking the glass away and taking a long drink. 

“Help yourself, love,” he snarked. She handed the glass back to him and he drained it, setting it down on the table. She refilled it without a word and took another drink. He sighed. 

“Why are you here, Swan?” he asked. “What do you want from me?” 

“I don’t know.” 

Fury licked at him again. “You don’t know,” he hissed. “Is that so? Well perhaps I can enlighten you.” He took the glass from her and emptied it, then slammed it down. “You wanted to make sure that I was still your faithful pet,” he spat. “That I would still come running the moment you crooked a finger, desperate for any scrap of your attention—”  

“That’s not true—”

“—despite your utter rejection back in Storybrooke and your complete lack of interest in me or my life in all the time we’ve been apart.” 

“I asked about you, or I tried—” 

“You tried.” 

“Yes! Every time I talk to my parents I ask—well, not ask but I try to—I thought you were still in Storybrooke!” 

“And so you thought you’d just use your parents to check up on me? And it never struck you as odd that they didn’t know anything?” 

“I just—I couldn’t—” 

“You couldn’t ask them directly because then they would know you were curious,” he concluded. “And we couldn’t have that, could we darling?” 

She grabbed the rum glass and refilled it. He watched as she tossed it back, wishing he could ignore his body’s reaction to her—that constant itch to touch, to trace the curves outlined by her clinging dress and sink into the softness of her hair. He still remembered how it felt beneath his fingers in Neverland, the taste of his rum on her tongue… he wanted to taste it on her again, to lick the traces of it from her lips and then deep into her mouth, wanted to rip that dress from her body and plunder her. The dark heat that flared in her eyes as she caught him staring, as she let the rim of the glass trail across her lower lip, said she knew exactly what he was thinking and she wouldn’t stop him. That she wanted everything he did. 

Slowly she set the glass down and stepped closer, close enough that he could smell her hair and feel her breath against his cheek. His cock was rock hard and he cursed it, cursed his helplessness to resist the pull she exerted on him. His hand curled around her waist without his permission, and when a small, satisfied smile curved her lips it slid down to grip her arse and pull her tight against him. 

She stiffened and for the briefest moment he thought she might pull away, and then she moaned and rolled her hips and he was lost. His arm wrapped around her waist as hers curled around his neck, he plunged his hand into her hair and she tugged at his, bringing their lips together in a clash of heat and lust and fury. She tasted just as he remembered and this time he chased it, battling her for control of the kiss. If they were going to fuck like this, he thought, in anger and animosity and not lovingly, reverently as he had so often dreamed… if they were going to fuck, they were going to do it his way.  

He slid his hands beneath her dress and hooked the index finger of his prosthetic beneath the thin strap of her thong, snapping it easily. She gasped against his mouth and he chuckled darkly, trailing into a groan as his fingers found the slick heat between her legs. She was so soft and so bloody wet—wet for him—that his head spun and his knees went weak, and he forgot his anger and their fight and sought only to pleasure her, pushing two fingers inside her and stroking her clit with his thumb, thrilling to the sound of her low moan and the sharp pain of her fingernails digging into his arms. 

He tugged her head back and trailed his mouth down her neck as his fingers worked inside her, dragging the neckline of her dress down with his teeth until her breast was freed then swirling his tongue around her nipple. 

“Oh, fuck,” she gasped. “Hook.” 

He jerked away like she’d doused him in ice water, his anger flooding back. 

“No,” he hissed. “Killian.” 

Emma’s eyes flashed defiance, “Hook,” she insisted, scraping her fingernails down his chest, popping buttons as she went. He knocked her hands away with his prosthetic and backed her up against the kitchen counter, his fingers still inside her, squeezing his hand to grind the heel of it hard against her clit, wrenching a helpless moan from her.   

“You want Hook?” he snarled. “Do you?”

“Yes!” 

“Well, you can’t have him. It’s me or nobody and I swear by all the gods in the heavens, Swan, if you call me by that name again I will kick you out of my house as you bloody are.” 

She glared at him, chest heaving, and he could see how badly she wanted to defy him. He prayed he’d have the strength to carry out his threat if she did. Their harsh breaths sounded unnaturally loud in the stillness of the kitchen until Emma bucked her hips against his hand and conceded. 

“Killian, then,” she said, grudging but breathless, like the name was an intimacy that she resented but also craved. He pressed her clit harder and she moaned again. “Killian,” she breathed, and it sent a spear of pure lust through him. 

He pulled his hand from between her legs and stepped back, holding her gaze as he put his fingers in his mouth and sucked them clean. “My bedroom is upstairs,” he said. “First door on the left.” 

Her eyes flashed again and then she straightened up, reached behind her back and in one quick movement unzipped her dress and shimmied free of it, smirking when he hissed in a breath at the sight of her naked body. She stepped out of the pile of fabric, still in her heels, and tossed her hair over her shoulder. 

“I’ll be waiting,” she said, and sauntered from the room. 

Killian ground his fist into the countertop and forced himself to count to sixty before following her. 

When he arrived she was sitting on his bed, leaning back on both hands with her legs crossed, one shoe dangling from the tip of her toe. He stopped in the doorway and feasted his eyes on the sight of her toned limbs and smooth skin as he slowly undressed, not missing the catch in her breath when he undid his trousers. 

“Curious, love?” he taunted. 

“Very.” 

He pushed the garments down, trousers and underpants together, smirking as her eyes widened and she drew a deep breath. 

“Well,” she purred, “you did promise I’d feel it.” 

He ignored the stab of anger, bit back the retort that it was Hook who’d told her that, and put a swagger in his hips as he closed the short distance between them. She sat up eagerly and reached for him but he caught her hand and held it back. 

“I want your mouth,” he said. “No hands.” 

She shot him a venomous glare but complied, laying her hands flat on the bed as she took his cock in her mouth, swirled her tongue around the tip then sucked hard. He clenched his teeth against an aching moan, wove his fingers through her hair and tried not to perish from the sheer pleasure of living out one of his favourite fantasies. 

She took him deep in her mouth, alternating hard suction with lazy strokes of her tongue and quick scrapes of her teeth until he couldn’t take any more and pushed her away, shoving her back onto the bed where she lay panting and looking very pleased with herself. 

“Too much?” she taunted. 

“For now.” He leaned over her, running his hands up the insides of her thighs and spreading them wide, then slipped his arms beneath them and buried his face in her cunt. She gave a strangled cry as he licked through her folds then sucked on her clit, pressing the tip of his tongue hard against it. Her hips bucked as she tried to push them up against his face but he held her down, licking her far more gently than he knew she wanted and forcing her to accept it. 

“Damn you, Killian,” she snarled, clutching at his head. He laughed and she gasped at the feel of the vibrations on her swollen flesh, then moaned when he resumed his onslaught, as hard as she liked this time, licking and sucking her roughly until she lay teetering just on the edge. 

“No…” she whimpered when he pulled away, blindly reaching for him as he leaned across her to yank open a drawer on his bedside table and withdraw a condom. He handled it with practiced ease, holding it securely in his prosthetic and tearing the packet open with his hand. 

Emotions flitted across her face as she watched him, anger laced this time with a touch of hurt. The hurt cut deep into his heart and made him furious. She really did think she’d had him on such a leash that he wouldn’t sleep with anyone else after she rejected him, he thought, giving her a nasty leer as he rolled the condom down his length. Her nostrils flared but she didn’t look away, and when he finished she grabbed his shoulders and shoved him onto his back, straddling him, kissing him roughly and digging her fingernails into his skin as she positioned his cock at her entrance and took him inside her.  

They groaned together at the sensation, the tight, slick squeeze of it. He thrust up as she ground down, groaning as she tilted her hips and arched her back to take him deeper, dragging her sharp nails down his chest. 

“Ugh that’s so good,” she moaned, and as they found their rhythm and began to move in perfect tandem Killian could only agree. Emma's head was thrown back, her hair curling wildly over her breasts and down her back, her muscles squeezing him as they rocked together in the most glorious dance of his life, and had he not already been as deeply in love as a man could be Killian knew that he would have fallen then. His hurt and anger ebbed away and he lost himself in sensation, in the indescribable bliss of sinking into the woman he loved and feeling her clenched tight around him, the sound of her sighs and moans in his ear. It was a feeling he never thought he’d know again after Milah, and certainly never dreamed he might know it with Emma. 

You don’t, he tried to remind himself. This is only sex. She doesn’t love you. She never will.   

He didn’t care about that though; in this moment with this woman he couldn’t care. He could only feel, and make the most of this one chance to feel these things with her. 

Emma’s breaths grew faster, harsh and short and catching in her throat, and as her rhythm began to falter he could tell that she was close. Gripping her arse tightly he flipped them over until she was spread out beneath him. She hummed in approval and hiked her leg up over his hip as he thrust in deep, driving her hard into the mattress over and again until she gasped and cried out, her eyes squeezed shut and back arching as a pink flush spread across her skin. It was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen and it sent him flying over the edge, choking out his own cry as ecstasy gripped him harder than ever before. He collapsed onto his side and pressed his face into the crook of her neck, conscious of little more than the smell of her skin and the gentle caress of her fingers through his hair. 

They lay like that until their breathing calmed and their skin cooled, and gradually reality began to encroach. Killian forced himself against every will he had to move, untangling himself from her and rolling over to remove the condom and dispose of it in the bin next to his bed then grabbing a handful of tissues to clean them both up. 

He dreaded what he would see when he turned back again but Emma still lay where he’d left her, her face calm and showing no signs of panic or regret. She took the tissues he offered without comment and cleaned herself, grimacing a little when she handed them back. He dropped them in the bin along with his own and took a deep breath, waiting for the excuses he knew had to be coming, for the sound of her getting up and running away, leaving him yet again. When the bed shifted but none of those things came he risked another look at her. 

She was snuggling back against the pillows, and as he watched she pulled back the blankets and slid beneath them. He held his breath and did the same, swallowing hard when she slid over to him and curled herself against his chest. 

“Emma—” he began. 

“No,” she said firmly. “No.” 

She cuddled closer, slipping a leg between his and an arm around his waist. He tangled his fingers in her hair, stroking a silky strand between his thumb and forefinger as she hummed in contentment and closed her eyes. A moment later so did he.  

He didn’t know how long he lay there, his eyes half-closed and his nose in her hair. He was adrift in the moment, this extraordinary, unbelievable moment of softness between them when Emma not only allowed him to hold her but actually snuggled into him, fitting her body to his like it belonged there, like there was nowhere else she wished to be. Killian suspected she would regret it in the morning and when she woke she would push him farther away than ever. But now, here, in this moment, she was his. 

Her skin was so soft, he marvelled, so silky beneath his fingertips that he couldn’t stop himself from touching her, gently stroking down her body, the dip of her waist and the curve of her hip, down her thigh and up again, over her arse and along the ridge of her spine to sink once more into her hair. 

Slowly he became aware that she was touching him as well, her hand trailing over his thigh and hip, up his back and down his shoulder, pausing briefly to explore the tattoo there then slipping further on to sift her fingers through the hair on his chest. He caught his breath as she discovered the scatter of tiny stars tattooed across his heart, almost lost among the dark strands, and traced the pattern they described with unnerving accuracy. 

She looked up at him with eyes hazy with desire, blinking slowly as he brought his hand up to cup her cheek, his thumb caressing the dimple in her chin. He kissed the dimple, thrilling to the little hum of enjoyment she gave. He kissed her nose and her forehead and both her cheeks, and then, finally, her lips. 

The kiss was slow and soft and and achingly tender. Killian poured his whole self into it and everything he felt for her, fully aware of what he was confessing but unable to care. Emma knew his feelings whether she wished to accept them or not, and he had nothing to lose. 

She opened her mouth with a soft moan and took the kiss deeper, pulled him closer, her tongue on his sending heat licking up his spine, her hands stroking it across his skin. He wanted to touch her everywhere, worship her as he had in his dreams, distil a lifetime of devotion through the prism of this one act. But there wasn’t time for all he wished to do and so he made do with what he craved the most. The soft weight of her breast in his palm and the hard peak of its nipple, how she moaned into his mouth as he stroked it with his thumb.  His fingers caressing her, slowly down her belly then between her legs, sinking deep into her velvety heat. Her tongue soft and wet as she licked down his neck, nipping at him, leaving marks that would linger on his skin for days and break his heart anew each time he saw them. 

Emma shifted beneath him, aligning their bodies and lifting her knees to cradle him, holding him close and kissing him hard as he slid inside her. The wet warmth of her mouth and her cunt made him dizzy; the squeeze of her legs around his waist and the clutch of her hands on his shoulders and back urged him on. He tried to go slowly, to make this last as long as possible, but the sounds of her pleasure, the way she clung to him, the sheer elation of sharing this with her—however illusory it may be—was too great to withstand, and far too soon they fell. 

She gasped and he groaned as ecstasy gripped them both, her fingers curling through his hair and pressing his forehead to hers, their eyes locked as she fluttered around him and that gorgeous flush suffused her skin once again. Caught in the delicate tenderness of the moment, wrapped in intimacy and awash in sensation, Killian struggled to contain the words he longed to say to her. He tried his best to hold on to what he knew was true—that this was just an interlude, a moment soon to end—but against all good sense, his better judgement, and even his will, he felt that tiny, stubborn bud of hope bloom yet again in his heart. Perhaps, it whispered to him as he rolled onto his side and Emma followed, curling herself tightly around him and sighing contentedly against his chest as they drifted off to sleep. Perhaps.

…

A prickly sensation in her arm woke Emma. She resisted it, groaning internally and trying to will herself back to sleep. It was far too early to be awake, she could tell that much even through her drowsy haze. It was early and she was so comfortable but for the prickly arm, warm and contented and relaxed, with Killian’s chest beneath her cheek and his arms tight around her. 

Killian— With a jolt Emma came fully awake, staring up at his sleeping face with eyes gone wide in dismay. What the hell had she done? 

Slept with Killian Jones was what she’d done—God, she couldn’t even call him Hook in her head anymore. She’d charged into his house and drunk his rum and had sex with him—twice!—and it had been just everything she had ever fantasised about and more. So much more. Far, far too much more. 

She forced herself to pull away, away from the warmth of his arms and of him. The fact that she had to force herself had panic gripping her chest. She wanted to stay, she realised with a flash of the same terror that had sent her running from him in Storybrooke and the same regret she’d felt on realising, not even a week after her return to New York, that leaving him had been a terrible mistake. For three years she’d tried to bury her regret over that one rash decision, buried it and ignored it and denied it, without success, and now here, finally, she had the chance to make things right. All she had to do was slip back into his arms, curl up where she wanted so badly to be and go back to sleep. 

But she couldn’t—it was too much, too fast, and she wasn’t ready. His feelings were too big for her to deal with and hers… hers she couldn’t even bear to think about. She scrambled away, trying not to jostle him, but his eyes blinked open anyway and she froze just on the edge of the bed, caught by the look in them. He had such expressive eyes, true windows to his soul as the saying went, laying bare his every thought and feeling, and it had always amazed Emma that he never seemed to mind how vulnerable they made him. He’d hidden nothing from her, not since Neverland and not until these past few weeks when the cold, shuttered blankness in those beautiful eyes had cut her more deeply than she’d realised. They weren’t blank now, though, but brimming with emotion—with hurt and anger and a weary, hopeless resignation that clawed at her heart.

“I...” she began, trailing off when she realised she had no idea what to say, how to explain. How to make him understand. 

Killian sighed and leaned over the edge of the bed. She heard a drawer opening and then a soft t-shirt landed in her lap. “You can wear that downstairs,” he said. “Your dress is on the kitchen floor.” 

“Killian—” 

Emma groped for the words to tell him that she didn’t want this to be the end, that she wasn’t trying to run from him again. She just needed some time and a bit of space to process all the things that had happened and how she felt about them. But his face was blank again and his eyes so terrifyingly hard that the words wouldn’t come. 

“Don’t,” he snapped. “Don’t fucking bother. Just go.” 

She swallowed over the aching lump in her chest. “I never meant for this to happen,” she whispered. 

He snorted. “Let’s not kid ourselves, love,” he said, and she flinched at the bitter edge in his voice. “You’ve wanted to know how I fuck since the beanstalk. Now that you’ve finally got it out of your system perhaps we can both move on.” 

“Move on,” she choked. “You’ve done that already.” 

“I’ve certainly tried,” he said. “Anabel makes me happy. She actually likes me for myself and while you may not think I deserve that I choose to believe I do. I’ve worked bloody hard to put my past behind me and build a respectable life in this realm.” 

A life that doesn’t include you, his words implied, and she nodded, fighting the tears that prickled behind her eyes. She slipped the t-shirt over her head and scrambled from the bed, grabbing her shoes as she fled, desperate to get away from him before he could see her cry. 

…

Killian managed to hold off his own tears until he heard his front door close behind her and then they came in a torrent. All the anguish he’d kept so tightly locked away these last three years—the heartbreak and the guilt, the regret over the life he’d led and the choices that had shaped him into someone a woman like Emma could never love—came rushing forth like the sea through the hull of a sinking ship. He turned his face into the pillow that still carried her scent and wept for all he had lost in the course of his long life, for every terrible deed he’d done and every beautiful thing his touch had destroyed. He wept until he had nothing left inside him, until he sank into a restless, dreamless sleep. 

 When he awoke again the sun was pouring in through his windows with offensive brightness and he groaned, rubbing his eyes and wishing that just once the habits born of centuries on the sea would leave him alone to wallow in his bed. Instead he dragged himself up and stumbled into the bathroom where he splashed cold water on his face and ignored his hollow-eyed reflection in the mirror as he brushed his teeth, then went downstairs. 

In the kitchen he found his t-shirt, folded almost neatly and draped across the back of a chair. With shaking hands he picked it up and pressed it against his cheek—just for a moment—then with a guttural cry flung it away against the wall. 

…

Emma spent the next week driving herself as hard as she could, working the toughest cases, the longest hours, hounding the staff at the new office with her demands. Anything, anything, to avoid having to think. If she stopped moving even for a second she saw Killian’s face in her mind’s eye and heard his voice telling her to go, and the ache of loss would hit her again, as fresh and raw as the moment it happened. 

Losing something she’d never really had shouldn’t hurt so much, she thought, and frankly she resented it. She felt swamped by a strange sort of untethered frustration, an uncomfortable feeling and uncomfortably familiar. She’d last felt it back in Storybrooke, that antsy itch under her skin whenever Killian was near, in the few quiet moments they’d shared in between battling flying monkeys and breaking curses. She’d managed to ignore it then, seizing on the witch and the curses and Neal as convenient distractions, excuses not to think about Killian or her feelings or what he wanted from her. What she wanted from him, what they could have. And as soon as those distractions were gone she had run. Just as she always did. As she would continue to do, damn it, until she found something that made her want to stay. 

She refused to think about how badly she’d wanted to stay in Killian’s bed. 

...

“Mom,” said Henry the following Saturday, coming into the living room to find her dusting the corners of the bookshelves, “can I ask you something?”

“Hmmm?” Emma dragged her attention away from her determined assault on the cracks in the wood. “Sure. What’s up?”

Henry shifted uncomfortably. “Um, have you—have you seen Hook at all since we moved here?” 

“Killian,” said Emma automatically.

“What?” 

She felt her face grow hot. “He prefers to be called Killian now.”

“So you did see him!” cried Henry. 

Emma set her dusting rag down with a sigh. “Yeah. I did.” 

“Did you guys have a fight or something?”

“Kind of, I guess. It’s hard to explain.” She cast a sideways glance at her son. “Grown-up stuff.”

“Mom,” sighed Henry, with his special ‘I’m a teenager now’ eyeroll. “I’m not a kid anymore and I’m not stupid. I know that you and Killian—that there was something going on with you guys in Storybrooke and I know that’s part of the reason you left.”

“Henry—”

“And I saw how you reacted when I told you he was here. It’s okay to talk to me about it.”

Emma made a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob. 

“I mean, no details,” he said with a grimace. “But like, in general.”

“Henry.” Emma rubbed her temples. “I appreciate it, really. But I can’t. I can’t even think about it.” 

“You really should. It’s not a good idea to hold stuff like that inside.” 

“Stuff like what?” 

“You know. Feelings. You hold yours in too much.” 

“I know. I know I do.” She frowned at him. “How did you know there was… something with us in Storybrooke?”

“It was pretty obvious, Mom. He came all the way from the Enchanted Forest to New York to get you, and then when we got back to Storybrooke you two were always talking together or at Granny’s, and when you weren’t with him you asked him to babysit me. Which you wouldn’t do unless you trusted him.”

“That’s true,” Emma whispered. She had trusted Killian. She did. 

“And then after we moved back to New York you never asked about him,” Henry continued. “When you talked to Grandma and Grandpa you asked them about everybody in Storybrooke, even my mom. Even Leroy. But you never asked about him. If he’d only been a friend you would have.” 

Emma shook her head. “Kid, when did you get so smart?” 

“Duh, I always have been. Thanks for noticing.” They were silent for several minutes before Henry spoke again. “And you know,” he said, “I wouldn’t mind. If you wanted to, you know. Date him.” 

“Really? Would you really want me to be with a pirate?” 

Henry shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s kind of hard to think of him that way anymore. But I always liked him, mostly. He took me sailing and told me about my dad. And he’s probably the best teacher I’ve ever had. And he’s been looking really sad all week.” 

“He has?” 

“Yeah. Everyone’s noticed. He’s all quiet in class, not like he usually is. And he hasn’t been having lunch with Miss Hartfield.” 

Emma’s heart gave a painful thump. “Miss Hartfield?” 

“The physics teacher,” Henry clarified. “They always used to have lunch together. All the girls in my class thought they were dating and now they’re all crying cuz they think they’ve broken up.” 

“Is Miss Hartfield a very pretty brunette with dark blue eyes?” 

“Yeah.” Henry looked surprised. “How did you know?”

“I—met her. Last weekend. She was having dinner with—with Killian. I guess they really are dating. The girls in your class should be happy.” 

“Oh.” Henry’s eyes filled with sympathy. “I’m really sorry, Mom—” 

“It’s okay.” Emma swallowed hard and forced a smile when he gave her a skeptical look. “Really! I’m okay.” 

“You’re not—” 

“I am.” Emma wrapped her arm around Henry’s shoulders and pulled him into a hug. “Or I will be. I just—need a little time. Is your homework done, by the way? Speaking of your teachers.” 

“Oh, yeah, nice segue.” Henry rolled his eyes, playing along, though it was clear from his face that he didn’t believe her. “It’s nearly done.” 

“Well, get it all done and then what do you say we order pizza and watch some bad movies. Unless you’ve got other plans?” 

“Nope. I’m all yours.” 

…

By the next Thursday, Emma had almost convinced herself that she was fine. Killian still crept into her thoughts far more than she’d like but the ache he brought she convinced herself was less severe. She didn’t have to fight so hard to stop the tears from welling up or keep herself constantly distracted.  

It’s like he said, she told herself fiercely. It was just an itch that needed scratching, and now it’s scratched that’s it. No hard feelings. No feelings at all. 

Thursday afternoon as Emma was leaving work, Henry texted her that his friend Becca was having some problems and wanted to talk and he was going to her house for a little bit. His homework was nearly done, he said, and he promised to finish it when he got home.  

Said homework was spread out over the dining table when Emma returned and she went to gather it up and put it to one side so she could sit there herself and have some dinner. Her heart skipped when she saw it was astronomy he’d been working on, the book still open to a page illustrated with several constellations. One of them caught her eye. It looked like a slightly tilted cross with bent arms, and it tickled something in her memory. 

She frowned and bent down to get a closer look. That pattern of stars looked so familiar. Emma racked her brains trying to remember where she could have seen it before. It couldn’t have been that long ago, she thought, and—oh. Oh. She flushed as the memory resolved with uncomfortable clarity, and her heart began to pound. 

She recognised that pattern because she had traced it herself through the hair on Killian’s chest, connecting the sprinkle of stars tattooed over his heart. She remembered thinking how odd it was, him having a tattoo there where it was practically invisible. His other tattoos were elaborate and brightly coloured and on places where he had less hair, but those tiny stars she would never have noticed if she hadn’t had her face pressed right up against them. 

It did make sense, she reasoned, for an astronomy teacher to have a constellation tattoo, though all his others featured names and clear associations with people from his past. But this one—Emma peered more closely at Henry’s book looking for the constellation’s name, and when she found it sank slowly into the chair, her knees gone too weak to support her. 

It was the constellation Cygnus. The swan. Killian had a swan tattoo. Right above his heart. 

He was in love with her. 

Emma let her head fall into her hands as the full force of that realisation hit her, with the strength and fury of a hurricane. She was aware he had feelings, strong ones, and though she’d never let herself think too much about them she couldn’t pretend she hadn’t known. But this… this was serious. He wouldn’t put her permanently on his body with Milah and with Liam unless it was big-L love. Killian loved her, or at least he had. Did he still? Could he still, after what had happened between them?

She closed her eyes and thought about the last words he’d spoken to her, about his girlfriend—Anabel—and how happy he was. Her breathing sped up an her hands trembled as she recalled it, the memory she’d tried hardest to escape and with the least success. The closed expression on Killian’s face and the flat tone of his voice were etched into her mind as clearly as if she were back there in his bedroom living that terrible moment all over again, and she realised with a flash of shock that he’d been lying. She’d been too upset to see it at the time but now her superpower was screaming at her. He’d lied to her, and not even well. 

A bubble of hope rose up in her heart. If Killian was lying about being happy, about having moved on, then maybe… maybe there was a chance that he still loved her. Maybe if she told him how much she missed him… if she reached out, if she tried… maybe they could actually talk. The way he’d acted the other times they’d met… his coolness, his distance, his anger… of course he was just trying to protect his heart from further hurt. She could certainly understand that. But if she told him, if they talked, then she could fix this. She could get the old Killian back again—the one who looked at her with warmth in his eyes and always believed in her. The one she could now admit to herself that she deeply and desperately missed, not the way you miss a friend you haven’t seen in a while but like a part of herself was gone. 

She sent Henry a quick text telling him where she was going and raced out the door. Ten minutes later she was standing in front of Killian’s, practically leaning on the bell. 

Killian opened his door and for the first time looked surprised to see her standing there on his small porch. 

“Swan!” he exclaimed. “Is Henry okay?” 

“Um.” Emma frowned. “Yeah, he’s fine. Why would you think he wasn’t?” 

“Why else would you be here?” 

“I wanted—” She took a deep breath. “Can we talk?” 

“Talk,” he repeated in an incredulous tone, then eyes moved from her face to something behind her and he smiled a huge, fake smile and waved his hand. Emma turned around to see a middle aged woman waving back as she walked down the sidewalk, a similar smile on her face and a very sharp look in her eye. The moment she looked away Killian grabbed Emma’s arm and pulled her through the door. 

“Come inside, Swan, before the whole neighbourhood sees you,” he hissed. 

“Since when do you care about the neighbourhood?” 

“Since I have to live in it.” He glanced around then shut the door tightly. Emma went into to the living room and perched on the edge of the sofa, trying not to fidget. Killian followed but remained standing in the doorway, watching her with a dark scowl.

“What do you want?” he asked. 

“I told you—to talk.” 

“I don’t believe we have anything left to say to each other.” When she didn’t reply he sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. “What is it you wish to discuss?”

“Your tattoo.” 

Emotion flashed in his eyes, apprehension and a hint of alarm. It flared just for an instant and then was gone, as thoroughly as if it had never been. Had she not been looking for it, Emma thought, had she not known how to read him as easily as he did her, she’d have missed it completely. “I have many tattoos,” he replied. 

“I’m talking about one in particular. The stars over your heart. It’s a constellation, isn’t it?” 

Killian’s face was like stone. “Aye.” 

“Which one?” 

“Swan—” 

“Exactly.” Emma pounced. “It’s Cygnus. The swan. You have a swan over your heart, Killian.” 

He shrugged. “What of it?” 

“What of it is I don’t think you get tattoos that have no meaning. You’ve got Milah on your arm, Liam on your shoulder, someone called Alice on your hip who I’m willing to bet is your mother, and over your heart is—is—” 

“Is you,” said Killian flatly. “Is that what you want to hear, Emma? The swan is obviously for you. Because I love you, and because I can’t resist torturing myself with permanent reminders of everyone I loved who is lost to me, etched into my bloody skin. Is that what you came here to get me to confess? It’s a poor confession when you already knew.” 

Guilt swamped her, heavy and suffocating. “I didn’t know,” she attempted to protest, her voice quiet but falling like lead in the face of his stark confession.  

Anger snapped in Killian’s eyes, fuelled by a pain she hadn’t seen before. Hadn’t allowed herself to see. “Don’t lie to me, love, and don’t lie to yourself,” he snarled. “Of course you knew. You knew when I all but begged you not to go back to New York, and you still left. You knew when you slept with me and you still tried to sneak away before I awoke. You’ve always known exactly how I felt and it has never once stopped you from breaking my heart.” 

“Killian—” 

“No. I can’t hear this.” He ran a hand over his face. “Go now, Swan, and don’t come back.” 

“Don’t come back?” she choked. 

“What would be the point? We both know where we stand and I—” his voice broke “—I can’t live with a gaping wound in my chest.” He turned to look at her, his face for once not blank but open and raw and with a plea in his eyes that tore at her heart. “Please, Emma. If you care anything at all for me, leave me alone now. Let me have the chance to heal.” 

Emma’s brain was screaming at her to say something, stop him, don’t let this happen, don’t let him go. FIX THIS. But everything he said was true, every angry, hurtful word of it. She had known his feelings and had she had taken them for granted, even used them against him, never thinking of how that might hurt him. She’d caused him so much pain already that she couldn’t now refuse this one small, heartbreaking thing he asked of her. 

It’s too late. You pushed him away one time too many and now he’s gone. 

“I talked to your girlfriend, you know,” she said, forcing the words past the clawing ache in her chest. “At the restaurant, before you got there. She seems really nice.” She risked a look at his face and almost cringed at the wariness in his expression. “I’m glad you’ve found someone like her, Killian. I really am. You do deserve it. You deserve to be happy.” She stood and moved towards the door, refusing to be hurt by the way he visibly tensed as she drew near. “I—I hope you’ll be happy.” With one last look to fix his face forever in her memory she turned and ran from his house. 

…

When she got home Henry was back, sitting at the table with his homework. He looked up to greet her, the cheerful words dying on his lips when he saw her face. He jumped to his feet and hurried over to wrap her in a huge hug. Emma gripped him tightly and let the tears she felt like she’d been holding in forever finally, finally fall. She cried as she could never remember crying before, great heaving sobs that left her empty and drained and clinging limply to Henry’s shoulders.

“What can I do?” he begged. “Mom, tell me what I can do.”  

Emma sobbed again, wondering what she’d ever done to deserve him. “Do you think it’d be okay if I came back to Storybrooke with you this weekend?” she asked. “I just really don’t want to be alone.” 

“Are you kidding?” Henry smiled, a bright smile that did nothing to disguise his worry. “Grandma and Grandpa would love that!” 

“They would. What about Regina?” 

“Honestly, I think she’d be glad to see you too. Everyone would. People have missed you.” 

“And you wouldn’t mind me tagging along?” 

Henry hugged her again. “I’d love it.” 

…

They drove up to Storybrooke as soon as Henry finished school the next day, arriving at her parents’ loft just in time for dinner. Snow and David were as thrilled as Henry had predicted, hugging her between them, smiling widely with damp eyes. Emma found her own eyes growing damp as she leaned into the comfort of their embrace, her heart tripping when David gently cupped the back of her head. 

“Dinner’s almost ready,” said Snow when they finally pulled apart, cradling Emma’s face between her hands. “Why don’t you and Henry go sit at the table?” 

“Is there anything I can—” 

“Nope,” said Snow firmly. “It’s all under control.” 

Emma seated herself at the table between David and Henry and looked around at the loft. “Wow, have you guys changed anything in this place since I was here last?” she asked. 

“Um, I think those curtains are new,” said David absently as he attempted to wrestle a protesting Neal into his high chair. Henry grabbed a toy and distracted his uncle with it long enough for David to get the toddler’s legs through the holes and settle him in. Emma’s heart tripped again. Henry was so comfortable here, far more comfortable with her father and brother than she was, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that. 

“We’re thinking of moving, actually,” said David, sitting down next to Emma. “There’s a farm just outside of town that’s for sale, we might buy it.” 

“You want to be a farmer?” said Emma blankly. 

“I grew up a shepherd,” he reminded her. “And this place won’t be big enough once Neal is older and wants his own room. Plus we haven’t entirely ruled out the idea of more kids. So I think it’s an opportunity we shouldn’t pass up. Your mother, on the other hand—” 

“I don’t object to it, exactly,” said Snow as she set a bowl of salad and a large platter of chicken on the table. “It would just mean a long commute if I’m going to keep working with Regina.” 

“You’re working with Regina?” 

“I’m the deputy mayor,” said Snow. 

“You are? Since when?” 

“Um, about two years now?” 

“Oh.” Emma fell silent as her parents launched into a debate on the merits of farm vs town in a way that made it clear that this was an old, comfortable discussion, frequently rehashed. Henry chimed in with a comment every now and then, egging them on, and Emma ate her chicken rather sullenly and tried not to feel left out. 

“So what’s it like being back in Boston after so long?” David asked her, when the conversation hit a lull. 

“It’s fine, I guess.” She shrugged. “A bit weird. I don’t normally like to go back to places I’ve left.”

An awkward silence fell and Emma felt herself flush. “I mean, I’m not saying I never would, but—” 

“How about you, Henry?” Snow jumped in. “How do you like Boston?” 

“It’s pretty cool. I like that there’s so much history. And my school’s really good.”

“Are you still having a hard time with math?” asked Snow, smiling fondly. “I remember that was always your downfall when you were in my class.” 

“No, actually, I’ve got a really great teacher at the new school.” Henry shot Emma a questioning look and she nodded. “It’s, um, actually it’s Hook.” 

“Hook?” David frowned. “What, like Hook Hook? He’s your teacher?” 

“Captain Hook?” said Snow. 

“How many Hooks do you know?” snapped Emma, irritated by their disbelief. 

“Well,” said Snow, now looking surprised at Emma’s vehemence. “It’s just a bit strange, isn’t it? That Hook’s a teacher?” 

“I don’t think so,” said Emma. “He always taught Henry stuff when he used to watch him before.”

“And my dad too,” said Henry. “In Neverland.” 

“Really?” asked David, still frowning. 

“Yeah. He’s the one who taught my dad how to navigate and how to sail. Seriously, Grandpa, he’s really good at it,” said Henry decisively. “Everyone loves his classes.” 

David shook his head. “Not that I don’t believe you, Henry, it’s just hard to imagine. It’s hard to imagine Hook as anything but a pirate.” 

“It’s not that hard,” retorted Emma, stabbing at a piece of lettuce on her plate. 

 “Well, you know, after Pan’s curse when we all landed back in the Enchanted Forest he could hardly wait to get back to his pirate’s life,” David pointed out. “He barely stayed with us for an hour.” 

“Though to be fair, it was mostly his ship he wanted to get back to,” said Snow. “And it’s not like that was an option for him here.” 

“That’s true,” David conceded. “I guess it’s hard to be a pirate when you’ve got no ship. He could’ve stolen one, but I genuinely did have the feeling he wanted to turn over a new leaf.” 

“Wait, wait—what do you mean, no ship?” demanded Emma. “What happened to his ship?” 

Snow, David, and Henry all turned to her in surprise. “Don’t you know?” asked Snow.

“Know what?” 

Snow and David exchanged a glance. “Hook traded his ship,” said David. “For the magic bean he needed to get to New York to find you. Didn’t he tell you?”

“He traded his ship…” Emma’s head began to spin. “For me?” 

“Well, yes, in a way,” said Snow. “Did he really not tell you?” 

“No. He never said a word.” 

“Well I guess we only know because David basically dragged it out of him,” said Snow. 

“He was moping around the town so much after you left,” said David. “Drinking and getting disruptive. I threw him in the cells for a night and in the morning tried to gently suggest he might be happier if he took his ship out for a few days to clear his head, and he said that would be a bloody challenge when Blackbeard had his ship.” 

“Blackbeard!” Henry exclaimed. “I didn’t know that part. He hates Blackbeard. Said he’s the worst kind of pirate, a man with no code and no honour. Why would he trade his ship to Blackbeard?” 

“He didn’t say. I guess he just really wanted to get back here and find Emma.” 

No one was looking at her but Emma could feel the weight of their attention, and she groped desperately for something to say, some way to respond to this revelation. But as always when she was overwhelmed with emotion, no words came. She poked at her food, feeling frozen and numb and so terribly sorry, and desperate for a distraction. 

One came a minute later in the form of a knock on the door. Emma had never been more glad in her life to see Regina, come to pick up Henry with Robin Hood and a delighted Roland at her side. In the bustle and confusion that followed their arrival, Emma slipped away to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water, downing half of it in one gulp then pressing the cool glass to her temple as she tried to calm her turbulent thoughts.   

Regina hugged Henry and watched as he hugged Robin and Roland, smiling a smile that made Emma blink with a new shock of astonishment. It was unnervingly soft for the erstwhile Evil Queen, warm and happy. 

“What the hell happened to Regina?” she whispered to her mother when Snow came into the kitchen with their empty plates. 

“What do you mean?” Snow frowned. “She looks just the same to me.” 

“Yeah but remember I haven’t seen her in three years. She looks… well, she looks happy.” 

“She is happy,” said Snow. “She and Robin got married last year you know, and—” she broke off when she saw Emma’s face. “You didn’t know.” 

“Huh-uh.” 

“But didn’t Henry tell you? He gave her away.” 

“I—don’t really ask Henry about his visits here. And you never mentioned it.” 

“You don’t ever seem to want to talk about Storybrooke with me either,” Snow replied. “You ask how everyone is, but whenever I try to offer details you change the subject. Have you left this place behind so completely, Emma?” 

“I’ve tried to,” said Emma, in a burst of honesty. “I wanted to get away from all of it—magic and villains and being the Saviour. I never wanted any of that and I never really felt like I belonged here.” 

“You never really tried,” said Snow. “But there’s always a place for you in Storybrooke, sweetie, whenever you want to take it.” 

…

Killian parked his car in front of Granny’s and got out slowly, taking in the sight of the familiar streets and buildings with a resigned sigh. He hadn’t been back to Storybrooke since he’d moved to Brookline, hadn’t had any desire to return until seeing Emma again had stirred up all the old feelings he’d worked so hard to bury. This past week his new life had felt like it was suffocating him—the students who looked up to him, the colleagues who respected him, Anabel who loved him. All of them so obviously concerned by the shift in his mood, caring about him, and the weight of all the pretence he’d built around himself threatened to crush him. Not a single one of them truly knew him, what he was and the things he’d done, the life he’d led for so very many blood-soaked years, and Killian hadn’t been able to bear another second of their kindness.  

The Rabbit Hole was just as he remembered, loud and raucous and full of people playing their own game of pretend, fuelled by alcohol and shielded by the brittle jocundity of such places. He looked around for Tink but couldn’t see her, and though he strained his ears could hear nothing over the pounding music. He pushed through the crowd towards the bar where he finally caught sight of her, perched on her knees atop a barstool and waving him over. 

“Hey!” she cried, leaping down from the stool and throwing her arms around him. He froze in surprise for a minute then tentatively hugged her back. 

“Tink,” he said cautiously. “Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah, fine.” She released him and stepped back, grinning as she took him in. “I guess I just missed you.” 

“That’s new,” he snorted. 

“Well you used to call me, if you remember, the first year or so after you left. Now I barely hear a word for months on end until suddenly you text to say you’ll be here in three hours and can I put you up for the night. So I have to ask, is everything okay with you?” 

Killian tried to summon his old cocky grin and some quip to reassure her, but they refused to come. Everything wasn’t okay, far, far from it, and he knew this was at the root of his spur of the moment decision to come back to Storybrooke. He needed to talk to someone who truly knew him, all of him, and who had known him at his worst. Tink was, as strange as it may be to think about, his best friend. 

“No,” he said, and watched her eyes widen at the stark honesty of his reply. “I’m not okay. At all.” 

Tink’s face softened and she looped her arm through his, and he let her lead him to an empty pair of stools at the very end of the bar. They sat and Tink ordered a bottle of rum and two glasses, then rested her hand just above his prosthetic and listened, keeping his glass filled as he told her everything. He told her of how hard he’d worked to make a place for himself in this land and build a new life to go with it, and how at times he felt that he’d succeeded in that aim but at others felt a complete fraud. He spoke about his job and how much he loved it and the joy of helping his students learn, but how he still felt unworthy of the trust placed in him by the school and by their parents. He told her about Anabel and how much he wished that he was whole enough to love her and then finally, haltingly, he spoke of Emma. About seeing her again and all that had occurred between them, and the way he’d spiralled afterwards into a depression so deep he wasn’t sure he could recover.

“I’m so tired of living sometimes,” he said. “You know what I mean.” It wasn’t a question but Tink nodded anyway, memories of long nights spent sharing rum and companionship in Neverland hanging thick between them. “Obviously time passes differently there, you have less of a—a sense of it passing, but—” 

“But it still passes,” she said. 

“Aye. It still passes, and I’ve passed so bloody much of it. And sometimes I think about how in terms of the physical age of my body I’m only about thirty-five. I could live another fifty or sixty years, easily, what with the medical marvels in this realm, and at times I just wonder—” he drew a deep breath “—I wonder if that’s really what I want.” 

“You want to die?” Tink asked carefully. 

“Not precisely.” Killian tossed back his rum and she poured him some more. “I’m just exhausted by the prospect of more living. Does that make any sense at all?” 

Tink nodded, sipping her own drink before speaking. “Years can be a burden,” she said. “Fairies are immortal so we don’t feel them the same way humans do, but we see how they affect you. Most humans your physical age would still have a lot left to look forward to but you’ve already lived the lifetimes of at least three men. It’s understandable that the prospect of living another might feel overwhelming.” 

“So what the hell am I supposed to do about it?”

“Well, assuming you don’t actually want to end your life?” 

“I don’t,” he assured her. Though he couldn’t deny that the thought had crossed his mind in his more desperate moments, Killian had fought too hard for his survival to ever end himself by his own hand. 

“Then you have to find something to live for,” said Tink. “Or someone?” 

He shook his head. “Emma doesn’t want me.” 

“It doesn’t have to be Emma.” 

“It can’t be anyone else,” he muttered, glowering into the depths of his glass. “Not for me.” 

“You felt that way about Milah too.” 

“I thought I did, but this is different. Milah and I—we were in love but our relationship wasn’t healthy. I can see that now. We didn’t bring out the best in each other; in fact we probably brought out the worst. She wanted the cocksure pirate and so I leaned into that role, for her. We both leaned into it, and we enjoyed it, the plunder and the destruction and the casual cruelty. I think it made us both feel powerful.” He sipped his rum and shot a sideways glance at Tink, who was watching him attentively and still without judgement. 

“But Emma, though,” Killian continued, setting his glass down and flexing his fingers around it. “Emma makes me want to be better. Even when I thought I’d never see her again, even though I know we’ll never be together I still want to be the man she inspired me to become.” He squeezed the glass harder, almost hoping it would shatter in his hand. “But then, if I’m only being that man because of her is that truly who I am? And how can I try to build a life with someone like Anabel when I know I can’t love her as she deserves and I’m only even remotely like someone she might want because of my feelings for another woman?”

Tink wrapped her arms around one of his and squeezed it sympathetically, resting her head on his shoulder. “I wish I had an answer for you, Hook,” she said. “But who you truly are, or can be, is a question you have to work out for yourself.” She paused as they both drank. “Have you ever considered telling Anabel about your past?” 

He snorted. “Tell a sensible science teacher from the land without magic that I’m Captain Hook? Oh yes that would go over brilliantly.” 

“That’s not what I meant,” said Tink. “I meant telling her a modified version of what happened to you, with your parents and Liam and Milah. Letting her see a bit more of who you are and what shaped you.” 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Killian sighed and ran his hand over his face. “I’ve thought about it. I genuinely don’t know if it would help or just be a burden on her. For all she knows I’m just a normal man born in Bristol, England in 1981. How would I even begin to fit parental abandonment, a dead brother, and two tragic romances into that man’s life?”

“Two?” 

“She already knows about Emma.” 

“Right. Well, you’d have to get creative, but if it helped her know you better? At least you could try.” 

Killian drank again then tightened his arm to pull Tink closer, resting his cheek on her head as the the pleasant haze he craved began to settle over his mind. “Do you know why I fell in love with Emma?” he asked. Tink shook her head, her hair tickling his nose. “It wasn’t her courage or her kindness or her beauty, though those are all contributing factors. It was because she understood me. We understood each other, from the very beginning, in a way I’d never known before. It scares her but I—I crave it. And that’s what’s missing with Anabel and with every other woman I’ve known, even Milah. That connection of the whole self. It’s something that can’t be forced or—or brought into being. It is or it isn’t, and that’s that.” 

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure that I don’t have the energy to sort through all of this realm’s women in hopes of finding a pale reflection of it. I’ve found the love of my life, Tink. It took three centuries but I found her, and I offered her my heart, and she refused it. I don’t think the answer is to try to patch over that wound with another woman. I don’t know what the answer is. Perhaps there isn’t one.” 

He frowned as Tink tensed against him, her eyes going wide. “Perhaps the answer is Emma,” she said. “And you just haven’t asked the right questions yet.” 

He followed her gaze and felt his jaw clench. Tink clung to him for another brief moment, whispering in his ear. “She might still be your answer, Hook. Don’t lose hope just yet.” 

…

Once Henry left to spend the night with Regina and her parents went to put Neal to bed, Emma muttered something about taking a walk and fled the loft, desperate for some space and time alone to sort through her muddled thoughts. As painful and chaotic as they were she knew she had to think them, and feel the feelings that they brought. Already she’d lost so much by trying to run from her feelings. More even than she’d known. 

Killian had given up everything for her. That was the thought that kept echoing in her brain. He’d given up his ship, his home, his most prized possession. He’d given it to a man he hated, all so that he could get back to her, knowing she wouldn’t even remember him. All to bring her back to her family. Her home. 

And what had she done? She’d scorned him and pushed him away, denied her feelings and run away from them and from him the first chance she got. No wonder he was so hurt. No wonder that pain had turned to anger. He should be angry, she thought in disgust, he should hate her. Yet she knew that despite everything he didn’t. He may not want anything to do with her anymore but he didn’t hate her. She almost wished he did. It might actually make the weight of her guilt and regret easier to bear. 

For the first time in her adult life Emma actually, genuinely faced her feelings, and thought seriously about what they were and what they meant. She didn’t love Killian, not the way he loved her, but she could. All the elements were there, from the way they had always understood each other to how easily she’d trusted him to the electric sizzle of their sexual chemistry. It was that could that had scared her, sent her running three years ago. The vulnerability it represented, the loss of control, terrified her. It felt like standing at the edge of an abyss with her her toes hanging over the edge and a gale force wind at her back. She’d fallen into that abyss before with terrible consequences, but then Killian was not Neal. She knew, somehow, beyond any doubt, that if she let Killian Jones into her life he’d never leave her. 

If she had let him in. It was too late now. 

She began to cry again, not with the wrenching sobs she’d cried the day before but with heavy, drenching tears that flooded her cheeks and dripped off her chin faster than she could wipe them away. Her chest felt hollowed out, aching and empty and hopeless.

She caught sight of the neon sign for the Rabbit Hole and swerved abruptly to her right, cutting across the street without looking for cars. Fortunately there were none. This was Storybrooke, after all, even on a Saturday night. And she really, really wanted a drink. 

The Rabbit Hole was fairly busy, its noise and bustle comfortingly familiar. Emma kept her head down as she moved towards the bar, hoping no one would recognise her. It wasn’t until she was nearly there that she spotted Killian. 

He was sitting at the end of the bar with a half empty bottle of rum and Tinkerbelle beside him, her arms looped through his and her head on his shoulder. The obvious, comfortable intimacy between them sharpened the ache in Emma’s chest and reminded her of her suspicions about what their relationship had been in Neverland. She was certain it was more than either of them had let on. 

As she stood frozen and wondering what to do, Tink looked up, her eyes widening in recognition. Killian frowned and followed her gaze and when he saw Emma the look that flashed across his face nearly broke her heart. He shook Tink off and stood up, tossing back the rest of his glass of rum and heading for the door. 

Before she could think better of it, Emma spun on her heel and took off after him. She caught his arm just before he could reach the door and he spun around, yanking it from her grip. 

“Bloody hell, Swan, can I never be free of you!” he cried, and the hopeless defeat in his voice made her tears well again. She forced herself to remember that his feelings were justified, that she had done this to him and that he didn’t owe her forgiveness or anything else. 

“I’m sorry,” she said in a small voice. “I didn’t know you’d be here and I don’t want to bother you, but Killian—” 

“What?” 

“My dad—he told me what you did. How you traded your ship for a magic bean to come find me in New York.” 

A faint flush coloured Killian’s cheeks and he shifted uncomfortably. “It was nothing,” he said. “Anyone would have—”

“No, anyone definitely would not have,” cried Emma fiercely. “You gave up everything you had to get me back here and then I just turned my back on it, and on you. And I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry, Killian, and I don’t expect you to forgive me. I just—I wanted you to know.” 

He swallowed hard and gave her a small, guarded smile. “You made what you thought was the best decision for yourself and Henry,” he said gruffly. “That’s all anyone can do. I’m just glad you’re happy.” 

“But I’m not,” she burst out. “I’m not. I mean, I’m not unhappy exactly but I miss—I miss you.” She heard his sharp intake of breath but barrelled on before she could lose her nerve. For once in her life she knew just the words she wanted to say and she was going to say them. 

“And you were right,” she continued. “I knew how you felt about me and I threw it back in your face and pushed you away whenever I could. I was scared of my own feelings, of how strong they were, and I know that’s no excuse but all my life I’ve always run from things like that. I run from things that make me feel too much and I still can’t believe that anyone could really care as much about me as you seemed to and so I ran before I could find out that you didn’t. I know I hurt you. It wasn’t always unintentional, and God, Killian, I am so fucking sorry for that too.” 

She swallowed hard, twisting her hands together, feeling the intensity of his gaze on her but not daring to meet it. “And I know that there’s no chance for—for us anymore but I wanted you to know how much I regret it. There’s nothing in my life I regret more than ruining things between us before they could even really start.” 

Gathering her courage she looked up at him, and caught her own breath at the expression on his face, that soft, intense expression she’d missed so much. “Do you want there to be a chance?” he said hoarsely. “If there was a chance, would you—could you take it?” 

Emma gasped again as hope exploded in her heart and it began to race. She nodded. “Yeah. I think I could. I would.” 

“You think?”

She stepped closer, looking up at him, hardly daring to breathe. Music pounded through the air around them, voices shouted, bodies danced, and they were the only two people in the world. 

“I could,” Emma whispered, “I can and I will if—if that’s what you want too?”

Killian drew a shaky breath and his fingers trembled as he reached up to caress her face, brushing softly across her cheek before sliding into her hair. He pressed his lips to hers in the gentlest kiss of any they had shared, a butterfly’s wing of a kiss, a kiss of promise and forgiveness and hope. Emma sighed into it as it slowly deepened, as Killian’s fingers tightened on the back of her head and hers gripped his jacket and she couldn’t suppress a moan. 

When they broke apart she was breathless and dizzy and he was beaming, a bright, dazed grin that made her heart soar as he leaned his forehead against hers. “Do you really mean it, Emma?” he whispered. “You really want—” 

“You,” she said. “Yeah. I want you, and I want us.” 

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “I’m yours, love,” he said. “As you know.” 

“Just like that?” Emma pulled back enough to look at his face while keeping her arms tight around him. “After all the hurt I caused you, you can just forgive me?” 

“Aye, just like that. I’m not saying all the hurt is healed or that we don’t have  things to work through. But of course I can forgive you. I love you.” 

“Killian—” 

“Shhhh, let’s just leave it there for now,” he said. “It’s nothing we didn’t both already know. We’ll work on the other half later.” 

“Later,” Emma murmured, snuggling back into his arms. “I like the way that sounds.” 

…

@thisonesatellite​ @katie-dub​ @mariakov81 @stahlop @teamhook @kmomof4 @shireness-says @thejollyroger-writer​ @snowbellewells​ @jennjenn615​ @tiganasummertree​ @lfh1226-linda​ 

[sunflower-swan]

Wolfstar Chapter 7

A/N: Here’s what you need to know: I created this story for Writer’s Month 2020. Every day is a new prompt, and therefore a new chapter. This is an AU Wolfstar where Remus is a tattoo artist next door to Sirius who manages a flower shop. James and Lily are alive in this universe and own a coffee shop across the street. And to make parts of the story work with the prompts, Remus is about 10 years older than Sirius. It also takes place more or less in present time, minus Covid-19.

This is chapter 7 of a multi-chapter work. If you’d like to start from the beginning, here is chapter 1.

Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters. I just like to play with them.

Day 7 Prompt: Hurt/Comfort

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 2094

Tags: original character death, angst, pining, hurt/comfort, language

Chapter 7

Sirius

Johnny Cash, “Hurt”

I wear this crown of thorns

Upon my liar's chair

Full of broken thoughts

I cannot repair

Sirius apparated to the secluded alley behind the shops, and strolled toward the tattoo parlor. As he walked he pondered what the next six months without Silas was going to be like. He would likely be spending more time with Remus. Other than James and Lily, who else did he have? Coffee at Potter’s Wheel might turn into the highlight of his day. It would at least guarantee he wasn’t alone in his misery.

What about that Logan guy? He was rather good looking, in a rough sort of way. If one was into that sort of thing. Had Remus called him yet? Maybe he could live vicariously through Remus in a relationship. That’s assuming Remus could let go of his crazy ‘romantic quarantine’ theory. Although, that might make him miss Silas more. At the very least, Sirius would hold tight to the memory of his last day with Silas.

After their shared morning shower, Sirius helped Silas get everything packed that he would need for the next six months. They worked together to prepare an early dinner and ate it in the garden. Then they sat outside until long after the sun had gone down just being together, and talking about nothing and everything.

He was so caught up in his thoughts he walked right past the tattoo parlor and the flower shop. It wasn’t until he was nearly a block away that he realized what he had done, and turned around to retrace his steps. Remus stepped out the front door as he drew level with the shop.

“Hey, Sirius.”

“Morning, Remus.”

“Get a portkey sorted?”

“Yep.” He pulled a fob watch from out of his pocket and held it up for Remus to see. “We’ve got about 10 minutes before it activates, so we had better hurry and get out of Muggle view.”

Remus nodded and set off down the sidewalk toward the apparating alley. Sirius fell in step beside him.

“So...did you call Logan?”

Remus scoffed and rolled his eyes. “No.”

“What?!” Sirius couldn’t believe he was being so obtuse. “Why not? He was clearly into you…”

Remus sighed. 

“...and he was gorgeous.”

They reached the entrance to the alley and Remus stopped. “Sirius.” He massaged between his eyebrows.

“Remus.” He said in a friendly mocking tone.

Sirius pulled the fob watch out of his pocket and held it out so Remus could place a finger on it. A few seconds later, he felt a tug behind his navel, and they were whooshed off to Sennan, Penzance. The outskirts at least. They landed about a mile south of the official View Point.

Portkey was not Sirius’ favorite way to travel. He much preferred apparating. At least with apparition, he could stay on his feet. As he could have predicted, upon landing, he found himself on the ground in a tangle with Remus.

“Shit! You ok?” He asked as he helped Remus to his feet.

Both men dusted themselves off and looked around. They appeared to have landed on a somewhat rocky outcrop. Luckily, they also landed on the grassiest bit of the outcrop, which made for at least a semi-soft landing. Salty ocean air invaded their nostrils, and the sound of ocean waves could be heard. Sirius bent over and picked the fob watch from off the ground.

“This is also our ticket home. But it doesn’t activate until 4 o’clock. I figured we could also grab a bite and check out the area.” He gave Remus a hardy pat on the shoulder and pocketed the watch. “What do you think?”

“Whoa!” Remus cried, balancing on one leg. He seemed to still be unsteady on his legs from the portkey, and the shoulder pat almost knocked him over again. 

Sirius grabbed Remus' arm to prevent him from toppling over. “Sorry!” he apologized. “Let’s get going before I really hurt you,” he added with a laugh.

Remus raised his eyebrows in agreement and the pair set off towards the path which they had landed near.

After a few minutes of walking in comfortable silence, Sirius decided to ask the question that had been nagging at him all morning. “Why are you not going to call Logan?”

Remus shot him a sidelong glance.

“Come on! You can tell me. I want to know why my best friend is determined to be miserable and alone.”

“I’m not miserable!”

“Tell that to your face.”

“Wait...I’m your best friend?” Remus neck flushed.

“Well yeah, dummy. One of them at least. Other than you, James, Lily, and Silas...who else do I hang out with?” Wow...that’s kinda sad, if you think about it. Sirius decided not to think about it. It was what it was.

Remus smiled and threw his arm around Sirius' shoulder. “Is it possible to have more than one best friend though? Doesn’t the term ‘best’ imply there can only be one?”

“Well, you see, James is my oldest best friend. And by extension, as his wife, Lily is also my best friend. You are my newest best friend.” Sirius glanced at Remus to see if he wanted to interject. When he did not, he continued. “We have coffee together everyday. You were the first person to whom I showed the letter from Silas, and you were the first person I asked to come with me today. Who’s your best friend then? Who is this person you’ve never mentioned as long as I’ve known you?”

They walked a few steps in contemplative silence; the wind whistling through their hair.

Then Remus chuckled. “Point taken,” he said. “Thanks for being my best friend.” His eyes and smile lit up.

Sirius’ breath caught as he observed the light in Remus’ face. Just as quickly as that sensation surfaced, so did another...shame. He felt his scalp prickle, and he winced on the inside. Fresh on the heels of a ‘best friend’ speech, while at an outing specifically for your serious boyfriend, is not an ideal time to get a swhooshing feeling in your stomach when your best friend smiles at you. Sirius reprimanded himself, and decided to bury those feelings until a later time. He also pulled away from Remus' arm around his shoulder.

The path was beginning to become more crowded with people as they neared the View Point. They could see a cluster of buildings ahead, presumably comprising the Visitor’s Center.

“You still didn’t answer my question.” Sirius pressed.

“What question was that?”

Feigning ignorance, I see. “Why are you not going to call Logan, and why are you determined to remain alone and miserable?”

“Oh, yeah…” was all Remus said.

Fine. Sirius thought, and decided to drop it. I’ll figure you out one day.

They continued the walk along the path until they came to the Signpost. It read:

‘New York 3147’

“Three thousand, one hundred, forty-seven miles away…” Sirius said. He took a deep breath and let out a heavy sigh. “Six...bloody...months.”

“It will be alright.”

“How do you know?”

Remus placed a hand on Sirius’ shoulder. “Because you’re my best friend, and I’ll be here for you.”

~~~~~

Three months passed without much incident. Life for Sirius continued much the same as it always had. Morning coffee had turned into the highlight of his day, as predicted. On his days off he would hang out with either James and Lily, or Remus.

Spending time with James and Lily usually centered around something to keep Harry entertained. Sirius didn’t mind because he loved spending time with his godson. Their outings often included something that involved animals. The kid had a natural inclination toward snakes that was a little strange.

Time spent with Remus was a nice break from toddler amusing activities. The first time Sirius suggested they go see an Indie film playing at the theatre around the corner, he had to practically drag Remus there. At the end of the movie, Remus conceded it wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be, but he still preferred a quiet art museum. 

He would write to Silas every two or three days to let him know what was going on. Silas would write back when he was able. He moved around a lot and was able to get out a letter about once a week.

Silas’ letters were always full of discovery and adventure. His team started out in Maine and were working their way through the forested region down the East Coast. Their main objective was to document observations of native American magical animals in their natural habitat.

Then Sirius didn’t hear anything back for a couple weeks. He was sitting with Remus at the Potter’s Wheel for an after work coffee.

“I’m sure everything is fine.” Remus had been attempting to reassure him for the past ten minutes.

Both men looked up at the peck peck peck at the window next to them. A tawny owl was flapping there with a letter attached to it’s leg. Sirius jumped up and ran out the door. His heart thudded in his chest. Finally! He took the scroll from the owl and it flew away. The untidy scrawl across the top was not Silas’ handwriting. Hair on the back of Sirius’ neck stood on end. It was addressed to him though. Unable to wait, he ripped open the letter, and read:

Dear Mr. Black,

We regret to inform you of a terrible accident involving Mr. Oleander. While on a field mission in central Maryland, his team was the victim of a Snallygaster attack. Mr. Oleander’s body was not found at the scene, and is presumed deceased.

Greatest sympathies,

Magizoologist Office, UK 

Sirius read through the short note again, and again, and again. His brain was unable to process or believe what he was reading. He slid down the window until he was sitting on the ground, and his tears fell upon the parchment. They fell upon the words that brought his entire world crashing down around him.

He was vaguely aware of handing the letter to Remus. A person on either side of him grasped him under the arms and pulled him to a standing position. He supposed he walked somewhere, because when he woke up, he was on a couch he did not recognize.

Maybe it was a nightmare. But whose couch is this? He felt the soft suede under his fingers and looked around. “Hello?” His voice was hoarse. He felt a wave of nausea as he moved to a sitting position.

Remus came into view, holding two teacups. “Hello.” He sat one on the coffee table, and kept the other for himself. “How are you feeling?” he asked, taking a seat in an eclectic mid-century modern chair across from the couch and crossing his legs.

“Like I’m going to be sick.” Sirius looked around for a wastebasket, or the bathroom. Anything so as to not vomit all over Remus or his furniture.

“Bathroom’s through there if you need it.” Remus pointed toward a door leading off from the room. “Try the tea though. It’s Peppermint Ginger. Should help your stomach.”

Sirius reached for the tea and gave it a sip. Not bad. He didn’t want to talk, so he glanced around what he assumed was Remus’ flat above the Tattoo Lounge. One entire wall was a bookshelf filled with books, which he found unsurprising. The titles he could make out from the couch appeared to be a varied collection of artist biographies and histories, and Muggle fiction; J.R.R. Tolkien featured prominently.

On the walls hung artwork he recognized as Remus’ style, because he had one similar hanging in his flat that Remus had gifted him at Christmas last year. Floral arranging was an art in it’s own right, but the skill evident in these pieces was exquisite. Some were done in Muggle-style, while others in wizard-style. Even the Muggle-style pieces looked so real, like they could jump off the canvas and walk around in the room. His best friend was an enigma wrapped in a tough shell; a puzzle he hadn’t cracked yet.

“Want to talk about it?”

He squinted his eyes closed. Unbidden came an image of Silas on their last morning together. He shook his head, and the nausea reared its ugly head again. Clasping his hands in front of his mouth, he opened his eyes and looked at Remus.

“Ok,” Remus said softly. “How about a shower? Or a bath? I think I have some fizzy bath bombs.”

In spite of himself, Sirius let out a little chuckle. “Bath bomb. Definitely.”

A/N: If you’ve followed the story this far, then I’m going to warn you now so you can mentally and emotionally prepare yourself...Sirius is not going to handle this death well. The next few chapters are going to get pretty dark, but I PROMISE it will get happier. This has a Wolfstar endgame after all. ;)

Next Chapter: Chapter 8

[withyounct]

What’s wrong kid? (8)

Reader x Single dad!Jaehyun 

Genre: Fluff

Words: 3.7k

Prompt: You notice a child crying at a school playground. You decide to see what’s up and meet an extremely stressed/extremely handsome father.

Prev | Next

A/n: Enjoy!

“God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him. How shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers?” You muttered completely hanging upside down on the couch doing nothing as the pressure of blood flowed into your brain. Ten, who was scrolling through his phone, used his free hand to poke you with a stray pillow.

“We’ll drink and get over it. Are you okay?” He was met with grunts as you slid onto the floor. He was gearing up to join you when the doorbell rang. Very swiftly, you enforced the ‘nose goes’ rule and smirked as he begrudgingly went to answer it.

You were pleasantly surprised to see Johnny’s gigantic stature from your place on the ground.

“I think you’ve been over more than Jaehyun. Congratulations. What do you want?” You turned into a sitting position. Johnny, still in his ‘casual’ suit and tailored made trench coat, chuckled and held out a hand to help you up.

“I'm bored and would like to have a father-daughter afternoon.” You tilted your head in confusion because Johnny was the cool uncle type rather than father, but the rare innocent smile on his face forced you to keep the thought to yourself.

You were content with staying in your nicely heated apartment lounging around all day, but unfortunately you had a soft spot for him. You took his hand and was brought up. Telling him to hang out with Ten for about twenty minutes, you ventured into your room to get ready.

You put on some light makeup and picked out a Johnny approved outfit. It was snowing out, so you stole one of Kun’s scarfs as Johnny pulled you out into the cold.

He told you that he didn’t have any definitive plans as you drove onto the highway. You were about to criticize his poor planning when you got an email from the Men’s Wearhouse. You scanned the email and looked up at Johnny. 

“I can feel you boring holes into my face, what’s up?” He asked not looking away from the road.

You weighed your options; it would be easy and convenient to have Johnny take you, but the possibility of him telling Jaehyun was risky. On the other hand, the thought of having to leave your house later to do something you could do now was annoying.

“I trust you more than I should.” You sighed. “I need to pick up Jaehyun’s gift.”

“I’ll beat you to it. If I tell him anything you’ll kill me.” He smirked. “Where are we going shorty?”  

You scoffed and inserted the address into the gps.

“It’s how much!?” You held on tightly to your card, eyes blown out in shock. The older gentleman that helped you before had his same warm smile which somehow made things worse. 

“The total is $150.” He gestured to the screen. You were too focus at the price that you missed Johnny’s whistle behind you.

“Man that’s pricey. By your standards of course, but I got it.” Johnny said coolly going into his pocket. You stopped his arm with more force than needed.

“I will end you.” You threatened, but the pout you displayed made you look more like a sad kitten than anything. You swiped your card before you could regret it and was handed the velvet box. The man wished you both happy holidays as you exited the shop. You were too busy looking at your bank account to care that Johnny took the gift out your hands and inspected it.

“Boring and right up Jaehyun’s alley. Congrats.” He carefully placed it in one of your coat pockets, making sure to button it close. “Come on, let me treat you to lunch.” He didn’t wait for you to reply as he intertwined his arm with yours and dragged you to the car.

Johnny was pretty predictable, so you weren’t surprised when he took you to some upscale ritzy restaurant. Upon his instructions, you didn’t look at the prices of anything and ordered a steak that you were a hundred percent sure cost the same as rent. You were sipping on the sweetest wine the place had to offer when you realized something. 

“You’re a good friend.” You said suddenly, leaning back into your chair. Johnny looked up from his food in confusion as you continued. “I hope you genuinely like hanging out with me, but your trying to help Jaehyun figure out what to get me, right?”

“Clever guess, but wrong. Jaehyun already bought your gift.” He laughed reaching over the table to ruffle your hair. “I really just wanted a father-daughter day.” He smiled softly. 

After lunch you spent the rest of the afternoon trying to stop Johnny from buying everything he thought would look cute on you and failing. It was nearing the evening when you finally talked him into taking you home, complaining that neither of you had any arm room left. 

“Something tells me that you were always this wealthy.” You stated, stuffing the rest of the bags in the back seat and hopping in yours.

“What gave me away? My complete disregard of a price tag or the car?” He joked. 

“Both.” You laughed. “No offense, you just give off a ‘trust fund kid, never eaten ramen’ vibe sometimes.”

He chuckled, but nodded. “None taken. You’re half right. Came from money. My father owns an information company in Chicago, while my mom owns a fashion company in New York. I was set the moment I was born.” He said proudly.  “I was kind of an asshole as a child and was sent to this boarding school in New Jersey. It was middle school when I met Jaehyun. I’ll let him tell you all the shit we got into, but he was the first person to introduce me to ramen. He loved it, but I wasn’t much of a fan.” There was something in his eyes that soften ever so slightly as he traveled down memory lane in his head. “I’ve known that loser my whole life.” He smiled more to himself than to you. 

“You make him happy.” He used the red light as an opportunity to look at you. “I’ve seen him hit rock bottom and try his hardest to fill holes that were impossible to fix. Hyunjin does a good job, but she herself has holes that she's too young to notice. But you,” His laugh was light in wonder. “you just appeared out of nowhere like an angel and started sewing their holes shut.”

The light changed and he sent you one final smile before turning his attention back to the road. “So thanks for that.” 

The rest of the car ride was filled with music as you were rendered speechless. Johnny didn’t pressure you into saying anything and you appreciated it. He helped you bring all the bags up into your apartment. 

You knew he wasn’t much of a hugger, but you found yourself wrapping your arms tightly around him. You felt the light vibrations of him laugh as he hugged you back. 

“I take it I'm your new favorite.” He laughed, ruffling your hair as you let go. “See you later shorty.” He smiled as he left. 

It was early in the evening and it was right around the time you would make your way over to Jaehyun’s. After trying to find the closet space for all the new clothes that was gifted upon you, you found yourself getting ready to do just that.

But, there was a moment of hesitation as you skidded over to your phone. You’d totally forgotten that Renjun and Yangyang were leaving for China in the morning. You smiled and opened up the group chat, adding Kun and Ten to it.

‘Let’s do something tonight!’ You sent the message and it took exactly three minutes for you to regret your life choices. Jaemin made a poll and clubbing became the main victor. You sent a ‘I hate you all’ text, tossed your phone, and grabbed one of the outfits Johnny bought you. You still had on makeup from earlier, so you were the first one done. 

You wandered into Ten’s room and flopped on his bed as he got ready, wrapping yourself into a cocoon with his covers.

“Someone put in very little effort.” He judged, getting up from his desk chair to sit next to you. He handed you his eyeliner, a silent gesture for you to help him.

“Someone has a man and would rather go laser tagging.” You shot back as you gently tight lined his eyes. “You know you and Kun are our responsible sober adults’ tonight.” You informed. You were met with rolled eyes that contradicted his smile.

“Someone’s got to keep the kids safe.” 

It didn’t take long for everyone to arrive. Kun and Ten took four each and headed to the downtown clubbing district. Ten was ready to throw both you and Jeno out the car since you both rather be anywhere but there and wouldn’t shut up about it.  No one questioned Jaemin as he ushered the group passed the long line into the club. You turned to see him high-five the bouncer and laughed because that was such a Jaemin thing to do. 

You wandered passed the dancefloor and various bodies to the bar. Ten, who immediately forgot about his adult responsibilities, had ordered a raspberry vodka. You smiled as you swiftly took it out his hand and downed it, shooing him away in the process.  

You weren’t much for dancing, so you found a comfortable place at the bar where you could watch your friends act like complete fools. You turned to order another drink when one was placed in front of you. You looked up confused at the bartender only to have him nod his head at the male sitting next to you before walking off. 

The really handsome guy that you just now noticed smiled at you. Smiling back and noticing his drink, you called over the bartender again and ordered another drink. He was confused, but placed it in front of you. Smoothly, you slid it over to the stranger who looked more confused.

“Returning the nice gesture.” You stated, spinning around on the stool to look at your friends. Even in the poorly lit room you could see the murderous intent in their eyes. Laughing, you threw up a ‘okay’ sign and they returned to their dancing. 

“Seungcheol.” He introduced, holding out his hand. 

“Y/n. Taken.” You smiled as you shook his hand. Your smile widened as he laughed.

“That’s okay. I hope the drink wasn’t too awkward.” He nervously rubbed his neck. You told him it wasn’t. 

Naturally a conversation started between you two. You were both dragged there by your friends, who were oddly dancing around each other. Somewhere in between the jokes, laughs, and drinks, an existential crisis creeped its ugly way into your mind making it a bit hard to focus. In every case before now, you would flirt a little and make out in the bathroom until one of your friends would drag you home. 

The conversation gradually became one-sided on his part; you tried to stay engaged, but with the aid of alcohol in your system you eventually fell flat. He was quick to pick it up, stopping midway through a joke to look at your sudden somber disposition. With a bit of hesitation, he lightly tapped your hand.

“Okay why do you look like a kicked puppy? Am I bothering you?” He worried, moving a bit back into his seat to give more space between you two. His dejected tone caught your attention and you hurriedly shook your head. 

“No, its just.” You sighed, letting your cheek lean into your palm. You let out an empty laugh and continued to shake your head. “Nothing.”  You lied.

There was something in his eyes that soften as you played with your empty drink. “I know it’s usually the bartenders that listen to random people problems, but that guy looks like he hates everything and I'm an excellent listener.” He offered.

You weren’t one to flood people with your troubles, friend and stranger alike, but there was something comforting and accepting about him. You sighed. “My boyfriend said I love you a few months back and I haven’t said it back.” You found yourself saying. You watched his face grimaced. “Yeah, I know.” 

Wordlessly, he got the bartender’s attention and pointed to your empty glass. 

After securing you another drink, he continued.

“So, what’s the problem?” He asked. 

“That’s the thing, there isn’t one. He's downright perfect. Even with a kid.” You paused for a moment. “His daughter is amazing which makes him more amazing.” You groaned letting your arm fall as you laid your head on your forearm. 

“Ah, you’re afraid.” He acknowledged. You sat there and let his words simmer for a moment. In your more sober mindset you would deny immediately, it was a stupid reason to be afraid, but somehow you found yourself nodding.

“There's just too much finality with the word love.” You confessed softly to the point you weren’t sure he heard you. He looked down at you sadly as he traded out your drink with water.

Silence engulfed you two, the music and loud laughter for the outside world that seem to dim made its way back into your ears. The alcohol making everything slightly louder than you were comfortable with. 

“I know I don’t know you well, but let me ask you one question that you don’t have to tell me the answer to.” His soft eyes had a sliver of sharpness around the edges. “In this moment right now do you see yourself growing old with him?” 

You of course knew the answer; you’ve had countless daydreams about it. Waking up every morning wrapped in his arms, helping Hyunjin with her hair before school, late minute dates, forcing Jaehyun to watch more horror movies with you, tending to the garden with Hyunjin, putting her to bed, watching her grow up, arguing, making up, the whole nine yards. Until you’re both gross and wrinkly. 

You didn’t notice the smile make its way on your face until Seungcheol proudly pointed it out. 

“Take out your phone, I want updates.” He pulled out his phone and you two exchanged numbers.

It was nearing midnight and you were beyond ready to go. You couldn’t fathom how your friends had the energy to keep going, but they always had a way of surprising you. With a sad smile you turned towards Seungcheol.

“Not that you’re not amazing company, but I'm tired an-”

“I got you.” He waved over your friends. Kun, who finally manage to get out of Ten’s grasp, saw and about ran to you. He, of course, was ready to throw hands just in case. But, after some talking you calmed him down and introduced the two. You turned to pick up your bar tab when it was whisked away by Seungcheol. 

“Have a good night.” He winked, disappearing to the other side of the bar before you could protest. Laughing and shaking your head, you returned your attention back to Kun. Biting your lip and looking past him you could see the rest of your friends still having fun. You didn’t want to take Kun away from that, but wanted nothing more than to crawl in bed. 

“Can you call me a ube-”

“I’ll drive.” He cut you off. “Ten’s with them. He's more responsible than we give him credit for. I’ll come back after dropping you off.” He smiled. It wasn’t every day that Kun complimented Ten, so you decided not to tell him about earlier. 

“Jaehyun’s place right?” He asked, a cheeky smile gracing his face.

“You’re the best.” You hopped down for your stool and leaned on Kun as he guided you out the club. You made sure to stop by Renjun and Yangyang to hug them bye and wished them safe travels.

The car ride was filled with Kun’s ballad playlist which was a welcoming change from the loud EDM music you had to suffer through. Just like you the first time, Kun stood and gawk at how nice Jaehyun’s house was. 

“My baby is moving up in the world.” He whistled. He walked you to the door making sure you had your keys before hugging you bye. 

The living room lights were off and given the time you guessed he retired to bed. Clumsily, you dropped your bag on the couch and made your way down the hallway. You stopped by Hyunjin and snickered at her chaotic sleeping form, looking apologetically at the stuff animals at got kick or punched on the floor. Gently you closed her door and noticed Jaehyun’s office light was still on.

You wandered over and leaned against the doorframe. He was too focused on his laptop and you decided not to alert him to your presence yet. You stood there for a few minutes watching him in deep concentration, smiling at how soft he looked in his ruffled hair and round glasses.

“Boo.” You said, craving his attention. You laughed at how he jumped in surprise, but melted when his smile blossomed. He got out his seat and made his way over to you.

“What are you doing here?” He smiled holding your face.

“I missed you.” You whispered. He cooed at the statement and leaned in for a kiss. He quickly leaned back and looked at you confused.

“Alcohol?” He asked.

You nodded. “I went out with friends. Kun drove me here.” 

He gently stroked your cheek and thanked you for being responsible. You told him he could return to his work, but he wasn’t having any of that. Abandoning his laptop, he guided you to the bedroom. You walked into the closet and grabbed one of his shirts to change in. When you walked back into the room he was seated on the bed, your box of skin care by his side. He smiled and padded the space next to him. Chuckling, you sat yourself.

“I'm not that drunk. I can do it.” You explained.

“Nope. I want to.” He beamed. He pulled out your makeup wipes and gently wiped your face. You started to laugh which caught his attention.

“You’re going to need to use more force than that.” You laughed handing him another wipe. He made an ‘o’ shape and applied a bit more pressure. He used more wipes than needed, but you kept that to yourself. After he was done, you went to cleanse your face with the promise he could finish the rest. 

He had seen your routine countless times, so you closed your eyes and let him go at his own pace.

“Did you have fun?” He asked quietly.

“Kind of. I mostly talked to this guy at the bar.” You answered honestly. His hands stilled for a millisecond. It was something you would have missed if you weren’t hyperaware of his every movements. 

“Oh. What did you talk about?” 

“You. He was a chill guy.” Your eyes opened slowly as you smiled. You saw the smile make its way on his face as he nodded.

“Well I'm glad you kind of had fun.” He finished padding in your eye cream and tapped your nose. 

“Beautiful.” The same amount of love in his eyes was being conveyed in his voice as he tucked a stray hair behind your ear. Your heart picked up speed at the intensity of his gaze, so you got on your knees and engulfed him in a hug. You smiled at the melodic laughter that calmed your very soul as he held onto you.

“Man I should do this more often.” He gently stroke your head, swaying you side to side.

“Thanks for being you.” You mumbled softly into his neck. He placed a kiss on the crown of your head before pulling the cover to tuck you in. He left to put your box back and turn off the lights.

“The park by my office is decorated as a winter wonderland. Lets go with Hyunjin tomorrow.” He crawled into bed.

“I'm down.” You said with no hesitation. 

“Let me guess, you’re going to be bouncing around like a child.”

“Without a doubt.”

“I'm getting beach flashbacks.” He sighed, but there was no mirth behind it.

You found your usual place cuddled into his chest. “Goodnight my human teddy bear.” You joked.

“Goodnight my beautiful doll.”

It was one of those rare times, you were awake before Jaehyun. Usually you would wake up in a cloud of confusion, wondering what events you had to do that day or other random thing. But, there was nothing, just clarity. You grabbed a piece of hair and started to tickle Jaehyun’s nose. His hand was on your side, so on instinct he tickled you back. You’re laughter brought him out of his dreamy state. 

“Stop, I need your undivided attention.” You giggled trying to come down from laughing. 

“You always have my attention.” He smiled, draping his arm back over your side.

“Thanks.” You started. “I need to say this before I overthink or wuss out. So, I wanted to say this last night, but I had alcohol in my system and I'm not tactless. But, you were doing the most mundane thing and I swear my heart was going a mile a minute which is becoming a frequent thing. I was going to wait till Christmas to make a grand display of my feelings while I gave you your really lame gift, but that’s not how I am and that’s not what love is to me. It’s the feeling I have right now warm in your arms with messy hair and sleep in my eyes, which is fine because you tell me I'm beautiful every morning.” You smiled. “I love you Jaehyun.”

“I know.” He whispered, smile beaming brighter than ever. You move your arm to hit his chest, but was stopped when he grabbed your face and place a kiss that took your breath away. Your eyes fluttered close and you let yourself get sucked into his warmth. He slowly pulled away and bumped foreheads with you. The laughter that left him was that of a child on Christmas day. Pure happiness. It was infectious and you found yourself laughing too. Grabbing his cheek, you placed a chaste kiss on his lips.

“I love you dummy.”

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Terms of Engagement ch.6

Summary: Rus is still a kid himself and with his life turned upside-down, he has no idea how he’s going to take care of his baby brother. Having other kid skeletons appear in his world wasn’t exactly the help he was looking for.

Tags: Pre-Spicyhoney, Underfell Papyrus, Underfell Sans, Underswap Papyrus, Underswap Sans, Undertale Sans, Undertale Papyrus, Babybones, Scientist W. D. Gaster, Possible Past Child Abuse, Skellie Daycare, Growing Up Together, Big Brothers Caring For Their Little Bros, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Violence

Notes: Finally an update!

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Read Chapter Six on AO3

or

Read It Here!

~~*~~

Rus couldn’t say how long the walk to Snowdin was. He drifted in and out of sleep, occasionally blinking out hazily from the safety of strong arms to see Edge skirting more traps, working his way through icy puzzles, and before he realized it, he’d drowse off again. Healing magic was draining on both sides of the equation; the Monster doing the healing using up magic to urge bones to knit or HP to rise, and the one getting healed was stuck dealing with the unnatural aftereffects. Eating some good food or sleeping it off was about the only way to handle it, and Rus was fresh out of snacks.

The last time he roused, Rus lifted his head and found himself gaping at a tall, sturdy fence. Honestly, it was more like a wall with the same graffiti and barbed wire as the sentry post in the woods. Every few feet were roughly painted letters warning off XP hunters, declaring Snowdin under the protection of the Royal Guard. What that sentry post didn’t have was the shielding Rus could feel coming off of it, strong enough to make him cringe, beating a tattoo of warning inside his skull. No single Monster did that, not even a Boss Monster; that was the work of dozens, the spell constantly reinforced.

What kind of place had Edge brought him to?

Edge carried him up to the gate, lifting a heavy fist to pound on it. An eyehole slid open, two deep brown eyes surrounded by equally dark fur widening as they peered out. Rus flinched, curling in closer to Edge’s chest, away from the gaze he could feel moving over him.

“Captain?”

“Protocol,” Edge snapped.

“Sorry, sir,” The Monster blustered out, “Password.”

“Tea kettle,” Edge said and there was the sound of many bolts being thrown before the door swung open. Edge strode through immediately, the gate quickly shut behind him.

“Bringing in a prisoner, captain?” The Monster sounded doubtful, like maybe this wasn’t the norm.

“No. A friend.” A hand on his skull urged Rus gently to look up and he did, blinking at a familiar face that was nonetheless unknown to him. Robbie was a massive Bear Monster back in his Snowdin. Here he was larger still, already fierce teeth larger and more saw-edged, and a large, furless scar ran jaggedly down the side of his face. But rather than threatening, he only seemed confused and Rus wince back as a Check fell over him.

“No LV?” Not-Robbie said disbelievingly. “How long as he been out of stripes?”

“Long enough,” Edge said, tinged with impatience. “Now let me through.”

The Bear scrambled back, mumbling apologies, but the weight of his gaze followed them as Edge strode away.

Inside the walls was a more familiar sight. Tidy houses, their windows lit, and if they maybe looked a little more rundown without the Gyftmas lights that liberally decorated his Snowdin, the windows crisscrossed with bars, it was still a relief to see Monsters on the street with grocery bags in hand and a small group of children in ragtag stripes playing, laughing and tossing snowballs as they ran.

Every Monster they passed spoke to Edge, a variety of greetings that all boiled down to a form of, “Good morning, Captain.”

None of them talked to Rus, though he could feel their curious gazes crawling up his spine.

There wasn’t really a way to describe the surreality of being carried up to a house that was a near exact copy of his own, sitting plumly in an entirely other world. Only this house had a row of locks strung down the door jamb rather than colorful lights, its windows barred with scrolling iron, and again Rus could feel shielding prickle over him. Edge shifted Rus to one arm as he undid the row of locks, opening the door and carrying him in. He kicked the door shut behind him, hard enough to make the house shudder.

“bro?” Called from the kitchen. “what are you doing home already?”

“I brought you a gift,” Edge called back. Rus tried not to cringe at that; he already felt a little like a bone drug home by an enthusiastic dog and there was a thought he shouldn’t be having after already nearly ending up a chew toy.

The kitchen door swung open and a short skeleton came out, wiping his hands on a towel. Red, it was Red, Rus’s blurred, childish memory laid overtop his vision, only instead of the boots he remembered, Red was wearing a pair of fuzzy pink slippers that seemed incongruous paired with his sharky teeth. No jacket in sight, he was actually wearing an apron of all things over his t-shirt and shorts, and when his crimson eye lights glanced over Rus, he only shook his head in resigned amused, “boss, what have i told you about bringing home strays?”

“I’d like to keep this one,” Edge said dryly. “Have a closer look, it took me a moment as well.”

That humor faded into shock as Red stepped closer. He froze, his sockets going wide, “rus? what the fuck are you doing here?”

“Brother,” Edge interrupted. He grunted, shifting Rus in his arms. “he’s cold and hurt, and not particularly light, if you don’t mind?”

“sure, yeah,” Red shook his head and stepped back out of the way, “yeah, fuck, bring him over here.”

Edge settled Rus on the sofa with a guttural sound of relief while Red shoved a somewhat tatty throw pillow under his leg and dragged a blanket off the back to tuck around him.

With an unexpectedly gentle touch, Red inspected the torn pant leg, tutting at the damage, “didn’t heal him? after all that bitching you put out while you was learning how?”

“I did.” Edge was turned away, kicking off his boots on the mat. “He was hurt too badly for me to finish, I couldn’t risk being drained out at the borders.”

“damn,” Red hissed, prodding at one of the bruises hard enough that Rus ground his teeth against a cry. “must’ve been nasty.”

“It was,” Edge’s voice echoed within the heavy chestplate as he struggled to lift it over his head. “He stepped into one of the razor-wire traps.”

Red let out a low whistle, “shit, good thing he still has his leg.” He moved that prodding finger up to Rus’s sternum and gave him a sharp poke. “didn’t hurt your chatterbox, didja?”

“what?” Rus managed, thinly. Years ago, he’d read Blue a bedtime story about a girl named Alice, lost in a Wonderland. He felt something like that now, the rabbit hole he’d tumbled through leading him someplace strange and awful, and Rus didn’t think he’d be surprised if the Queen came barreling through the kitchen door demanding his head.

“you’re awful quiet,” Red said, speculatively, jarring him from his tumbling thoughts. “shit, we ain’t seen you in close to twenty years, you got nothing to say?”

“i...yes, yes, i do!” Rus burst out. He heaved in a pained breath, all the strain piled on top of him since the moment he’d fallen through that awful shortcut clenching tight in his chest. No, no, it was much longer than that. Since the moment a portal stopped opening and he’d lost two of his only friends, and all of that poured out him in a tangled clot of words, “you...you complete asshole! you lying, stupid prick! you were supposed to come live with us, why didn’t...what happened to you, where did you go?! asshole!”

“yeah, that was more like what i expected.” Red settled back on his heels. He reached back to untie his apron, slipping it over his head. “couldn’t get through with the machine, am i right?”

“yes! it didn’t work, it only flashed warning lights,” Rus paused, took a deep, hitching breath before he said, “red, it wasn’t me, i swear, i had nothing to do with it. i really wanted you two to come stay with us.”

Red was already shaking his head. “course not,” he scoffed. “if’d been you, you would have taken along the kid and left me, yeah?”

“i…” He would have, had even thought of it in that first moment of panic when he saw Red’s LV. It was harder to admit that here, with Red looking straight at him and this newer version of Edge over by the door, peeling off that wicked armor.

But Red nodded knowingly, “yeah. it’s okay, rus. cause i was the one who did it. pulled the plug and the fuses, every one of ‘em.”

“you,” Rus said slowly. He’d always suspected something like that, played so many scenarios over and over in his skull. In one of them, Red was too afraid to leave his world, maybe, selfishly keeping his baby brother with him. That’d been one of the worst, too many times Rus curled up in his bed while that ran through his skull, picturing sweet little Edge afraid and weeping while his own cheek bones were soaked with tears. He wiped one away now on his sleeve impatiently. He wasn’t a kid anymore, and he wanted answers. “why? why would you do that?”

“He had to, Russy,” Edge said, low. Rus jerked his head to look at him. He’d stripped off the rest of the armor, all of it carefully settled on a sort of stand, and crimney, Rus’d helped Blue build his battle body, but compared to Edge’s, it was probably about as effective as tissue paper. But the differences without it was staggering; with the bulk stripped away, Edge was left in a plain black shirt and matching pants, and he was almost as lanky as Rus, forcing him to rework his mental picture of Edge yet again. But there was still something of the little kid Rus knew in there and it was in his voice as he soothed, “Let him explain.”

“ain’t much to it,” Red’s gaze was steady, but his face went pinched and tight, “we were packing up, getting ready to hit the portal over to underswap when they came.”

“they?”

“XP Hunters,” Edge said, the words couched in a low growl.

Red nodded grimly. “the ones i’d taken care of earlier, turned out they had pals. edge and me took care of ‘em, but that was when i realized we couldn’t just pack up and go to underswap.”

“i don’t understand,” Rus whispered. But he was very afraid he did.

Red lightly tapped his forehead. “think about it, genius. the machine. we leave and the machine is sitting around waiting for any asshole to use, ain’t it.”

Helplessly, Rus shook his head, but wasn’t that the same thing he and Sans came to realize? Moving to a different world wasn’t the answer, the machine had to be active for it to work, it would always be left behind. But.

“i should’ve taken you two right, then,” Rus said thickly. His sockets burned, begging to cry over a child’s decision fifteen years gone. “shouldn’t’ve have let you pack anything, i should’ve--”

Edge made a low sound, face twisting as he reached out to him abortively, but he hesitated when Red waved him back.

“nah, don’t you get it?” Red said. He took Rus’s hand in both his own, cool phalanges gently squeezing. “ ‘s better that you didn’t. eventually someone would’ve come through. they’d’ve come and hurt you and blue, maybe did somethin’ worse. we couldn’t let that happen.”

“but edge, he could’ve--” Even as he said it, Rus knew the answer to that, Edge already shaking his head.

“I couldn’t leave my brother,” Edge said firmly, “Not even for you, Russy.”

Yeah, okay, he got that, but. “wait. you said you two took care of them.” He recalled what the sentry said about his lack of LV, swallowed hard and refocused on Edge. Who only stood straighter as Rus Checked him, eye lights flashing as he lifted his chin.

Papyrus: LV 7 70 ATK 40 DEF *he’s worried about you

“oh, kid,” Rus said, brokenly. He didn’t want to think about it, he didn’t, that sweet child, that little baby bones crying as burning cold LV settled into his soul. Edge who always giggled so easily and was so painfully astonished by treats and cheap magic tricks, and always, always, insisting that he and Rus would get married someday, oh, that poor little kid--

“I’m not ashamed of it,” Edge said stubbornly.

“he don’t need to be ashamed,” Red said and there was a touch of warning in his voice. “he hasn’t taken any more lv in years anyway. think you’d be proud of him, rus, he can take anyone down to 1 hp. that takes the fight out of most of em right quick. he sets those traps to keep the lv hunters at bay. edge got a pretty good look at your world back when you took the kiddos out to play and he was damned determined we could have something like that here in snowdin. it ain’t perfect but we do what we can.”

Rus swallowed hard. “but, the dogs--”

“I can’t completely control the others, that’s true,” Edge said. “We take turns in the Guard so that no one person’s LV gets too high, but the Dogs can be a little...enthusiastic.” He moved to sit by Rus’s feet, reaching out to carefully cradle his injured ankle in warm hands, fingertips smoothing over the bones as he checked them. “And I’m not a kid anymore, I left my stripes behind a while back, as you should know, the same as your brother. How is Blue, you were alone in the woods.”

“he’s….he’s good. he’s good. he’s...back home. i think.” Rus closed his sockets. Fear was starting to grow in his mind, threatening to overflow like bitter black coffee poured into a too-small cup. Please, let him be back home, don’t let him find his way here to this nightmare.

“hey, HEY!” The shout so close to his audial canal made Rus gasp, panic receding. Red studied him, his crimson gaze seeing Angel only knew what. Abruptly, Red stood. “yeah, okay, i think russy’s had enough for now, bro, his eye lights are about swirlin’.” He gave Edge a rough nudge with his elbow, jarring him from his inspection of Rus’s leg. “how’s about you get him some of the quiche i just took out of the oven, should be cool enough by now.”

Edge nodded curtly and stood. Rus watched him go. It was so weird to think that this Edge was the baby bones who used to beg for rides on his shoulders. He latched on to that observation eagerly, better to think about this, and if he didn’t think about Blue, about the void, then maybe it would be okay. From the look of him, Rus guessed Edge was probably still a few inches taller than him even without the boots.

“he’s so tall,” Rus mumbled. “brings new meaning to all grown up.”

“yeah, and it was a bitch to feed gettin’ him that way, too.” Brotherly indulgence and pride faded, and Red took on a grim look. “and don’t take it personal, the dogs coming after ya, they was only doing their job. snowdin is one thing, but out there in the woods, it can get pretty bad.” Red stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked on his slippered feet. “i’m getting that you’re about running on empty right about now, but i got one more question for you, rus, and it’s important. don’t take this the wrong way, it’s damned good to see ya, but what the fuck are you doing here? how the hell did you even get here without our machine?”

Rus shivered as he recalled that shortcut, the cold of the void crushing him, the feeling from the machine shadowing over his soul, and whispered, “i don’t know.”

“yeah.” Red sighed. He closed his sockets, rubbing a knuckle between his brow bones as if there was a growing ache there. “that’s kinda what i was afraid of.”

The kitchen door swung open again and Edge came out with a plate holding a generous portion of quiche. It was probably delicious, better than any of his own efforts at cooking, but it may as well have been sawdust for all Rus tasted of it. Didn’t help that he was hyper-aware of Red and Edge watching him eat, staring at him like a new Napstatton special.

As soon as he scraped up the last bite and forced it down, Red whisked the plate out of his hands. “okay, time for you to head upstairs and get some more sleep.”

“it’s the middle of the morning,” Rus protested. A gleefully hysterical voice chirped up in the back of his skull, that wouldn’t his brother love this? Rus actually protesting taking a nap. Easier to think of that than the simple fact that he didn’t know what else to do.

“You’re still healing,” Edge said firmly. “Trust us, Russy, we know how to handle injured Monsters.”

Yeah. He bet they did. But he didn’t protest as Edge leaned in, lifting him back into his arms. Rus awkwardly wound his arms around Edge’s neck, holding on. This was so much different than before, it felt weirdly intimate being pressed against Edge without that heavy armor between them. Stupid, really, he used to carry Edge around all the time when he was little, how was this any different. Just helping out while Rus couldn’t stand, was all, and Edge took the stairs a brisk two at a time, carrying him into a darkened room.

The light creeping in through the barred window didn’t give Rus much of a view, but he didn’t care. By the time Edge settled him on the bed, helping him draw up the blankets and settle his skull on the pillow, he was already half asleep.

“Sleep well, Russy.” A soft, rough whisper.

Rus rolled over, curling up on the mattress sleepily as he mumbled, “you can call me rus.”

“I really couldn’t.”

He wanted to question the soft amusement in those words, wondered what Edge meant, but he was so tired, There was a faint touch on his skull, fingertips maybe?

Then the door closed softly behind light footsteps and Rus sank into oblivious sleep.

tbc

[jamiebluewind]

Character/Location Descriptions for Fantasy High 2.10!

***

As always, let me know if I need to edit or add anything and tag/ask/PM me about art and stories so I can check them out!

Warning: emprisonment, multiple injuries, canon typical violence, multiple blood mentions, gross descriptions, poison mention, broken bone mention, vomit mention, torture mentions, trauma, abandonment,

***

Brennan

"Free dad slap."

"You 'Ally'ed out of the box of doom!"

***

New Character/s

Fire Elemental #3

Genderless

Was summoned and bound by the elves of old to protect the elemental pylon that powers the permanent magical effects of Ka'lethriel Tower, which transformed them into a monstrous fire thing along with 2 other fire elementals bound there

Was embrased by Fabian in a deep dip as he cradled their head and his sheet wrapped around them both and roiled above them

The power of Fabian's dance partially stunned them and took them out of active combat

The thing binding them to protect the pylon went when the fire pit helix was put out, causing them to change back to a creature with an elvan face of wreathing flame

They cry fire

They kissed Fabian softly on the lips (for 8 points of damage) and whispered in his ear (softly like flame) "Thank you. For my freedom. For my life." before disappearing

Established Characters

Arthur Aguefort

Slows localized time at Ka'lethriel Tower, opening a rift from his desk at the academy to talk to Adaine

Crawled through the rift after Adaine confirmed that her captors chose the way of pain

The way of pain involved Aguefort using new and experimental magic resulting him growing 450 feet tall (massive thudding steps), reaching up to grab the Sun (causing his veins to light up with golden fire and his mouth to fill with a fire that releases and races across the sky), calling thousands of terracotta Agueforts to burst out of the ground and sprint north, moving the Sun itself (leaving a burning scar across the sky), and shooting lasers the width of highways that have enough power to cap a mountain in one hit with lasers that shot out of his eye (which took on a golden bright glow)

He appeared to Kristen later (via a spell that appeared as a scroll glowing with illusionary magic with his name on it that allowed him video chat with her from back in Elmville) badly injured, wrapped up in bandages, bleeding a lot, and in pain.

The new magic tore up his guts so bad that by the time he got about 50 miles north of the tower, he "shit about an ocean of blood" and almost passed out (we can't get that big, 450 feet tall is too big)

Was also hit with a lot of powerful elven counter magic before he teleported back to Solace

His terracotta army fell apart when he left

Admitted that he had been going ham for a while since after Kristen snuck him into heaven, that being dead for a couple months really messed him up, and that attempting to destroy the government of Fallinel was "just too much"

Got in a lot of trouble with the government of Solace, will probably have to go to court, and he has to move the Sun back ("gotta figure out how to do that")

Dragged the Sun "a little bit north of where it should be" (causing the far south of the Earth to be colder and far north to be hotter), but said the Sun was "going in the right direction" and "still going around the Earth", resulting in clarifying that Spyre normally goes around the Sun, but he's not sure of what he did when he dragged it across the sky and that there was more of a poetic understanding of how things really work, but he still "really fucked up"

Kear/Keer

Was horrified by Augefort's actions

"I'm getting very confused and upset with everything that these children do."

Was poisoned and vomiting when Kristen banished her with a kiss on her face, came back when Kristen broke her ankle, and was banished again by Ayda who loudly pronounces "mwah!" while kissing her face like Kristen

Oak Warriors

8 foot tall

Look like green men (not automaton) made of magic with elven faces

Vulnerable to fire

Controled by Kear

Anguin

Was blinded by Kristen

Went invisible and ran

Was knocked unconscious by Fig and left in the vault (with some of his teeth knocked out) when Ka'lethriel Tower collapsed

Aelwyn

Kept awake for 5 months

Was rescued from the tower and fell unconscious/comatose immediately

Was carried out by Ayda

Even outside the orb, her body shook with the strain and effort

As she and Adaine tranced, a tiny piece of her abjurative magic (an innate cantrip, abjurer's ward) came back and she started building a shield around Adaine in her "sleep"

Was taken to a hot spring with elven healers by Adaine

Was unsure if they actually escaped or just died before trying to cast a feeble shield around Adaine again

Her mind was damaged and the torture had a profound and corrosive effect on her well being and memory

The inside of her mind looked like a city razed to the ground with crumbled walls, battlements, towers, and arcane defenses. Only a weird, vulnerable labyrinth of images remained

Has a deep self loathing (especially for not saying anything on Adaine's behalf against their parents) and a powerful fear of her parents. Her cowardice fed into her self loathing which fed into her cowardice in an endless loop.

Had an intense magical charm in the center of the labyrinth of her abjurations and a little faint enchantment with "Despite all of the torment and tribulation, let this be proof. I always knew there was only one person clever enough to find this." written on the outside. The charm was a custom modify memory spell (which The Court Of Stars had been searching for) and contained a saved unbroken version of her from before she was capture which overrode her current broken state once it was dispelled

Adaine

Found a sword in the vault while looking for a weapon to fight with

Later gave the sword Fan-dran-goorh to Fabian (was made by his grandpapa Tel'amine)

Held Aelwyn as they sleep

Detects magic on Aelwyn and find a faint whisper of enchant magic before using detect thoughts on her

Found and dispelled the magical charm within Aelwyn which returns her sister's mind to a version before she was captured by The Court of Stars

Gilear

Fluid in his feet, especially his right (due to rolling his ankle months ago) which now has a band of purple around it (possibly a bone issue) and causes him an ambiant throbbing pain and heat from all the extra blood (GO TO A DOCTOR!!!)

Tel'amine

Tried very hard to say "Gorgug" one last time, but just said "Chedge" and then cried and became really embarrassed when Gorgug responded "It sounds like literally no sound was correct in that."

Dances with Fabian at one point in the night to the sound of Fig's bass.

He and the other adults of Kylo Me'newra give teens grapes because they believe it will make them less horny (doesn't actually work)

Riz

Shot a fire elemental over Gorgug's thumbs up

"Stay positive."

Said "It's beautiful" about Fabian dancing with the fire elemental and shed a tear before saying "It's beautiful Gorgug" and lowering his gun, aiming at the last pitcher

Poked his head in when Adaine was about to go to sleep to ask if her sister was still trying to kill them (since she was just kind of there now), listens to her answer (doesn't think so, especially with her trauma), and then slowly (and awkwardly) backs out of the room as the sisters doze off together (after Ayda dropped her off)

Gorgug

Soot on his face and singed hair after being set on fire

Had his thumb knicked slightly when Riz shot over it

Fabian

Slashed the first fire elemental on his first two turns before hiding behind Gorgug

Had an elven sheet on hand which has the ability to put out fires, so he used to put out his friends

Danced and jumped with his sheet during the battle and did a bit of contact juggling with the fire

(On being kissed) "I take it. I take every point of that damage and I take it slowly. I can feel it. In my whole body."

Was left with red hot lips after kissing the fire elemental and (with a gulp) felt a glowing moat of fire travel down his throat and rest hot and warm in his chest

Had the sheet tied around him like a cape while traveling back to meet with the others

At Kylo Me'newra, danced (badly due to rolling a 1 and a 2) all night outside with his sheet (like nobody is watching) as the ground lit up behind him with a dull glow with each step. It helped him get in touch with his feelings and his body

Enjoys the taste of the flower his grandpapa gives him

Gorgug, Riz, and Fabian

Ran to and from their pylon with their arms back like anime characters

"I believe in you/us."

"Spring break!!!"

All three were burned from their fight

After getting back to Kylo Me'newra, Fabian danced all night while Riz and Gorgug watched (cradled in the boughs of treents that hummed a song as the trees rocked them)

Riz: You know? This place isn't so bad.

Gorgug: How did this part start happening?

Riz: I thought I was just gonna sit in a tree and it started singing to me.

Gorgug: Hey. Really not horrible.

Riz: Yeah.

Tel'amine: Yes. Really not horrible at all. *catches a blossom and shoves it into Gorgug's mouth* Eat it.

Gorgug: *chews*

Tel'amine: Yes.

Riz: Is it good or is it just a flower?

Gorgug: *shakes head*

Riz: It was beautiful.

Tel'amine: *glides off into the night*

Gorgug: *coughs and sticks his tongue out*

Riz: Did that dude just feed you a flower?

Gorgug: Yeah. *hacking sound*

Riz: That was insane.

Gorgug: It's a complex flavor, I don't like it.

Riz: That was insane.

Kristen

Unmade a oak warrior due to the annoyance of her spirit guardians

*appears behind Kear and puts her hand on her back* "You're on the wrong side, but you could join us if you want. Just something to think about." *casts banishment to give Kear time to think and kisses her on the side of the head before she goes*

Tried to ribbon dance fly down 10 stories in the middle of the tower and ended up just slamming into the floor at the bottom instead, breaking her ankle

Her spirit guardians attacked Anguin while he was invisible and trying to sneak into the vault, ending his invisibility

Used sending to get in contact with Jawbone (Jawbone. Hey. Having some trouble with Tracker. She's pretty upset at me. I keep saying the wrong thing. I kept something from her. Oops? -> Tough break kiddo. Happy to help if I can. Should I find a way to contact you other than this spell? -> Fuck yes. -> Hell yeah.)

Had a long distance talk with Jawbone (using Aguefort's video chat spell) where she got advice on not treating her partner as a means to an end and about transparency.

Fig

Gave Wicklaw's sword back to Leviathan

Disguised herself as a Arthur Aguefort (but with a bass guitar) and accidentally really upsets Ayda

Played a really sick guitar riff that would make all the gems dance (to persuade them somehow and find out more about gems) and ends up causing a large gem built into the base of the tower to crack and the tower to collapse (but not before grabbing a book on gems lore)

Tried to set Adaine's dad on fire with a pack of cloves as they left

Had a sleepover with Ayda (text link below)

Ayda

Brennan stated outside stream that an incarnation of Ayda has been living on Leviathan for a very long time, building the Compass Points. When she dies and is reborn, it is a true rebirth and her new incarnation has none of the memories of her previous forms, only knowing her previous selves from the written instructions they leave behind. Her current incarnation is the same age as Tracker (17).

Can fly with two other medium sized people (and later the two plus an underweight Aelwyn)

Immune to fire

Her dad is very triggering for her

Had a sleepover with Fig

(to Fig) "Have you said something so kind on purpose?"

When Fig attacked her as her dad (due to spell fail), she got very upset and said "Dad. Dad. I'm sorry. I'm done. I'm sorry. Dad. Dad." as Fig tried to calm her

When she counter spelled Angwin and Fig told her thank you, she answered "Whatever. I would help you, Fi-du-du-Dad. You're not my dad. You're Fig! Right? It's an illusion. Yes. You're Fig. I know. Why would I have carried my dad here? He never carried muh... me."

Told Fig that she might need to work through some of her stuff in battle as she "elected to have a disguise that was very upsetting."

After dispelling a spell on Fig that was gonna make her run away "Dad don't leave! I mean Fig! Fig don't leave."

Was very happy to see Adaine.

Said "My friend Kristen did this" before giving Kear a loudly pronounced "Mwah" kiss to the side of her head and banishing her again

Fig: How dare you do that the Arthur Augefort!

Ayda: PLEASE STOP THAT!

Fig: I know, but see, it's intimidating for them-

Ayda: It can't possibly be helping us more than it's hurting us!

***

Location Descriptions

Ka'lethriel Tower (new details)

The tower itself is 10 stories tall and sits near a wall (with a gate) that surrounds the tower and the garden

Each floor has one room (save the top which has at least two)

The first floor holds a vault (which is normally protected by permanent magical effects) with a big locked door

There's a large gem built into the side of the tower within the vault

The vault is filled with a lot of things, including Adaine and Aelwyn's property (spellbooks, arcane focuses, and The Jacket of Useful Things), Fan-dran-goorh (Fandrangor): Sword of The North Star (long, whip thin elven sword that shines a gleaming green golden light, can talk with the voices of elvan ancestors, and once belonged to elven kings long past), a massive religious tome, a quarenteened series of top secret elven scrolls that is the research of Adaine mom, a series of notes by mom looking for the location of a temple in Sylvar (Kristen knows due to a book at the Compass Points Library), and a book on gem lore

Fire Pit Pylon

Large elvan smithy (only in looks as it's an arcane power station and not an actual forge) and worst of the two pylons

Stone, mossy covered building with a floor covered in traps and an entire infrastructure filled with a high elven adoration for magic

In the center of the building, there is a hexagonal 6 pointed room with a fire pit in the center that's so hot that it's hard to look at. The fire is golden green helix at the start (changes to purple gold with the first pitcher of water spilled into it, ruby red with the second, and out with the third. It also flickers with other energy at ruby red from the other pylon being attacked).

Surrounding the fire pit in altering positions around the 6 sided room are 3 braziers and 3 statures (each statue directly across from a brazier)

The elven statues have ornimental stone weapons on them and are holding huge alabaster pitchers of clear water which bend towards the fire pit and require a cantrip (or enough damage to break them) to dump their water

The large firy silver elven braziers are piled high with burning coal (responsible for the smoke) and are traps that conjure a monsterous fire elemental when the water from its corresponding stature spills into the fire pit or when a floor trap is triggered

***

<- PREVIOUS

[bamby0304]

The Spice of Life- Ch.1

Series Masterlist

Summary: After your character is killed off on the show, Supernatural, you take up your best friend’s offer to live with her while adjusting to your new life. Under the Ackles’ roof, you quickly have your life turned upside down once more when secrets come to light. Before you know it… you’re dragged into the heat of it all, and you love every second of it.

Paring: Danneel x Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: I will not be doing a series specific tag list. Any asks requesting to be tagged in the story will be deleted. Thank you @dean-winchesters-bacon for looking the chapter over xx

Warnings: Explicit language. Poly relationships. Smut. F/F. Fingering. Thigh riding. Oral (female receiving).

Bamby

When you were told your character was going to get killed off you hadn’t been too shocked. Female leads often got the cut in Supernatural, so you were more surprised to have lasted four years than when you heard about your character’s demise. Even though you’d always been waiting for the chop, that didn’t mean you knew what you were going to do next.

Supernatural was like a world of its own. The people were all family, everyone was tight knit. During the years you’d been part of the cast you’d quickly forgotten to keep up to date with the real world. So when you found yourself standing in your trailer after filming that fateful scene… your last scene… you suddenly had no idea where to go next.

Luckily, you had friends.

Months prior, Jensen and Jared had told their wives about your situation, and both women had eagerly invited you to stay with them. You lived in Vancouver but had no reason to stay there without a job. They knew how disorientating it could be after leaving the show, and they were more than willing to help get you on your feet.

In the end you decided to take Danneel up on the offer, which is how you found yourself standing in the spare room of her and Jensen’s amazing home.

“Does Gen hate me?” you asked Jared, looking down at your screen as you video called him.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “She is a little disappointed, but she doesn’t blame you. Dani is a cool chick.” He gave you a reassuring smile.

You felt guilty for leaving Mrs. Padalecki alone, having chosen to stay at the Ackles’ instead. But you’d known Dani for almost a decade. You’d met her before you met Jensen. In fact you got the job on Supernatural because of your friendship with the Ackles’. Part of you felt like you owed them for the last five years of your life.

Now here you were, just adding to the list of reasons why you owed them.

“Hey Y/N you wanna-” Dani came to a stop in your doorway, eyes dropping to your phone. “Who ya talkin’ to?”

Turning the phone so she could see the face on the screen, you answered, “Jared.”

“Oh!” Her face lit up as she hurried into the room and dropped onto the bed beside you so you could both fit in the screen. “Hey!”

“Hey.” He smiled back at her, making the corner of his eyes crease. “You two ladies having fun?”

“We’re about to. I’m planning a full Disney night with the kids.” Dani grinned mischievously.

You knew that meant you were going to have to listen to all three of them singing every song, and mumbling every line of dialogue. So really… you were watching the kids, not the movies.

“And in a couple of days we’re having a girls day. The kids are going out, so it’s just gonna be us two, and Gen.” Leaning over, she rested her head on your shoulder. “As much as I wanna keep my favourite girl to myself, I know Gen will never forgive me for hogging.”

Jared laughed lightly, nodding. “You’re not wrong there. Just… try not to have too much fun without Jensen and me.”

“Can’t make any promises.” Dani winked at him.

Something felt… weird.

As the two of them said their goodbyes, you watched carefully. You noted the way Jared tilted his head ever so slightly, a little shy and a little smitten. Dani had this gleam in her eye as she gazed at him through the screen. You could hear the subtle changes in their tones, too…

“Y/N… you okay?” Jared asked, pulling you out of your daze.

Shaking away that train of thought, you nodded quickly. “Mmhm. Yep. I’m fine. I’ll, uh… I’ll talk to you later, Jare. Gotta go. Bye.” Without waiting for him to respond, you ended the call.

Dani’s jaw dropped as you tossed your phone onto the bed. “Y/N what’s gotten into-”

“Are you cheating on Jensen with Jared?” There was no point in beating around the bush.

Her jaw quickly dropped as she stared at you like a doe caught in headlights… and then she laughed and shook her head. “No!” She leaned back and pressed a hand to her stomach as she continued to laugh. “Oh my God.”

Shocked by her outburst, and a little defensive, you explained yourself, “But… the way you two were talking to each other. Seemed like there was something there.”

Taking a moment to calm down, she took a deep breath and then shrugged. “Well, yeah, you’re not wrong. But I’m not cheating.”

“What?” You were thoroughly confused.

“Sweetie,” she tilted her head and watched you carefully as she went on, “Jensen and I have an open relationship… and Jared and I take full advantage of it.”

Holy shit… “Seriously?”

“Yeah.” She nodded, chuckling lightly.

“How long has this been going on for?”

“A couple of years.” She shrugged.

Wow. You had not been expecting that. Danneel was your best friend, Jensen and Jared were close seconds- with Gen in the mix, of course. The fact you hadn’t known about this little arrangement, that you hadn’t even picked up on a hint of something more, really made you question how observant you were. Had you just been tuned out this whole time?

Watching as your mind whirled, Dani’s frowned ever so slightly. “Hey.” She reached out and took your hand. “We’re good, right?”

“Huh?”

“You… you don’t think any less of us, do you?”

“Oh my God, no!” You shook your head frantically, turning your hand over to intertwine your fingers with hers. “Dani, no. God, how could you even think that?”

“I just… I know it’s not normal, or conventional.”

“What part of ours lives is ‘normal’ or ‘conventional’? Your husband is away most of the year. Like… pretty much the entire year. You don’t see him, and you don’t see Jared, who I know is a dear friend of yours. I’m honestly shocked I never put the pieces together before this.”

Smile returning, she gave your hand a squeeze. “I’m glad you understand.”

“Of course I do. You’re my best friend. I love you.” You gave a firm nod.

Chuckling lightly, she got to her feet and gave you a gentle tug. “Come on. Let’s go get the kids ready for movie night.”

Neither of you let go of the other as you left the room, and headed for the living room where you knew a night of chaotic fun was waiting.

...

The night was better than you could have imagined. The kids were a blast, giggling and singing along to the numerous movies you all ended up watching. You did notice, however, that all the dancing did tire them out- not as quickly as one would hope, though.

By the time Dani and you had put them all to bed, it was nearing midnight. Once all the kids were fast asleep and no longer crawling out of bed to sneak around, you both collapsed back on the couch to take a much needed break.

“One last movie?” Dani asked as reached for the remote to switch to flick through the list of things Netflix had to offer.

“As long as it’s not Disney, animated, or a musical… yes,” you laughed lightly.

Chuckling, she gave a small nod. “Gotcha.”

As she scrolled through lists and lists of shows and movies, one thing in particular caught your eyes.

“You, Me, Her?”

Dani paused for a moment before scrolling back up until the movie was back in view. The two of you stared at it, silent… and then she turned it on without a comment.

It was clear, within a few moments of the show starting, that your attention wasn’t fully focused on the screen. While your eyes remained watching, your mind wandered. You couldn’t help but think about Dani and Jensen’s situation…

When your attention returned to the show, you found yourself watching as one of the female leads- Emma- stood in a restaurant bathroom before the other female character- Izzy- came in to check on her.

You watched, waiting, wondering to see what would happen… and was shocked to watch as Emma then pushed Izzy against the wall and crash her lips against hers. You were unable to look away as they began to make out… and you were unable to ignore the bubbling of heat that began to stir in your stomach.

Eyes flickering over to Dani, you didn’t miss the way she shifted on the spot. As if she could feel your eyes on her, she turned to catch your gaze.

Chewing on her lip, thinking for a moment, she hesitated before reaching for the remote and turning the show off.

“Talk to me.”

“You and Jared… how far does it go?” You weren’t even sure you wanted to know the answer.

“All the way.”

“And… does Gen know?”

“She’s in on it.”

“Oh! So, her and Jensen?”

Lips curving into a grin, she nodded. “Yeah. Her and Jensen. Me and Gen. Jared and Jensen. We’re open to it all.” There was a glimmer in her eye as she continued to watch you.

Your back was pressed against the arm of the long couch, on the opposite to her. Your legs were curled on the couch, tucked under a thin knitted blanket. Despite the cozy position, and the cool air in the room… you couldn’t help but shift as your chest began to heave, while you grew warm.

“You and Gen?”

“I’ve always been into girls… or don’t you remember?” The glimmer in her eyes turned dark.

Oh, you remembered. You remembered that night, after too many tequila shots you’d both taken in an attempt to drown the memory of your boyfriend that had dumped you that night. Instead it had drowned you inhibitions… which is how you’d ended up in Dani’s bed. That’s how you found yourself below Dani, with her lips trailing along her neck, sucking dark bruises into your skin as you both rocked against each other, seeking friction.

“I remember,” you breathed, feeling a light flutter of anxious anticipation in your chest.

Humming, she didn’t hide the way her eyes dragged over you. “I think about that night.”

Trying to control your breathing, you somehow managed to respond, “You do?”

“Mmhm.” She nodded, shifting until her knee was on the couch, her whole body turned towards you. “You ever wish we’d done more?”

You swallowed thickly. “More?”

“I do.” Slowly, she leaned forward until she was on her hands and knees, those darkened eyes drinking in the sight of you. “I think about it a lot. I think about how good you tasted… and how other places would taste.” Reaching forward, she curled her fingers around the edge of the blanket draped over you. “I think about the soft purrs you made… and how I wanted them to be louder.” Gently, slowly, she began to drag the blanket away. “I wonder if you’re a screamer.”

Breath hitched in your throat, you could do nothing but watch as she moved further up the couch. She didn’t stop until she was hovering over you, her lips just a couple of inches from yours.

“If you want this,” she started, voice husky, eyes watching as your lips parted on a needy breath, “you’re gonna have to tell me.” Her gaze flicked up to meet yours.

Searching those familiar caramel eyes, you found you’d made your mind up a long time ago.

Reaching up, you wrapped an arm around her neck and pulled her down, crashing her lips onto yours.

She grinned against you, recovering quickly. The kiss deepened as she leaned down to press her body against yours. You could feel the heat of her skin, the thrum her her pulse, and you had no doubt she could feel the frantic drumming of your heart in your chest.

Her hand grasped your hip as she flicked her tongue against you. Moaning, you opened your lips and drowned in the taste of her as her tongue tangled with yours. Dragging your leg up her thigh, you hooked it over her, wrapping your legs around her as you pulled her flush against you. Sliding her hand up, she snuck it under your shirt and up to your chest, where she squeezed your breast before pinching your nipple between two fingers.

Throwing your head back, you groaned as she twisted and tweaked your nipple, pulling more sounds from you that only encouraged her antics.

Taking advantage of your arched back, Dani leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to the pulse on your neck. You jumped at the touch, and moaned, eager for more which she gave.

Sealing her lips over the spot, she sucked a dark mark onto your skin as you writhed under her. Her fingers glided down your sides as she brought them down to the edges of your pyjama pants. Hooking fingers into the band, she began to drag them down. Trailing her lips over your exposed chest, and then over your shirt, before meeting the sensitive skin of your stomach, she looked up and caught your eye as she pulled your pants off.

Grasping your thighs, she spread them as she leaned in to press open mouthed kisses to the edge of your panties. Watching her, breathing heavily, you quickly tugged your shirt over your head and threw it onto the floor. You could feel her lips curl into a grin against you, before she gave your hip a little nip.

Pulling back to sit on her heels, she held your gaze as she began to pluck at the buttons of her pyjama shirt, undoing them one by one. You couldn’t look away- not that you wanted to- as she began to slowly open the shirt to reveal her chest.

Pushing off the arm of the couch, you wrapped an arm around her neck once more as you pressed your lips to hers in an eager and clumsy kiss. Your fingers carded into her hair, holding her against you as she guided you back down. Nipping and sucking on your lips, she groaned into your mouth as her fingers trailed down between your thighs.

Tearing her lips from yours, she met your gaze as her fingers teased your covered slit. You sucked in a breath and jumped, needy but nervous.

Leaning down, she ghosted her lips against the shell of your ear. “Trust me.”

Humming, you turned to press your lips to her jaw as she stroked you gently. “I do.”

Moving back, she pulled away until she was an inch from your lips. “Good.”

Fingers plucked at your panties, pushing them to the side. You whimpered at the first touch of her skin on yours. The way she stroked you slowly, circling your clit, adding just the right amount of pressure to make you arch into her. Pressing at your entrance, she watched as your face twisted with pleasure and need.

Teasingly and agonisingly slow, she pushed two fingers into you.

“Oh, God!” you groaned throwing your head back and tugging on her hair.

Grinning down at you, she pressed her fingers in further, curling them as she sought out that sweet spot. Leaning in, she nipped at your neck, dragging her lips along the hard thrum of your pulse.

When she found your the spot that made you dizzy with need, she barely grazed it before pulling her fingers away. You whined, desperate for more, which just made her chuckle before thrusting her fingers back into you at the same agonising pace.

Each thrust was a tease that slowly worked you up until you were begging. Even then, she didn’t give you what you wanted as she dragged out your delicious torture. Straddling your thigh, she began to grind against you, seeking friction for herself as she watched you unravel underneath her.

It wasn’t until you found yourself unable to form proper word to beg any further when she finally gave you what you needed.

Crawling down your body, she pulled her fingers away from you. A whine barely left your lips before she began to drag your panties down your legs. You watched over your heaving chest, hands coming up to squeeze your breasts and pinch your nipples. You watched as she threw your panties onto the floor.

Lips curled into a grin that made you clench around nothing, she crawled between your thighs… and hooked them over her shoulders before pressing a kiss to your slit.

Whatever sound you’d been about to make was suddenly caught in your throat as you fisted the couch cushion underneath you, and threw your head back.

Dani paid close attention to the way you reacted to her as she licked and sucked at your slit and clit. Whenever she found a spot that made you whine in desperation, she would graze over it teasingly before moving on. She loved driving you wild, barely giving you a taste of the pleasure you craved.

The brush of her fingers against your entrance made you nod eagerly, and mumble words that would have sounded like pleas if you’d been coherent. Once she’d had the fill in your desperation, she thrust her fingers into you in one smooth move, curled her fingers, and found your sweet spot.

Your hand shot up to your mouth, teeth clamping down one flesh as you held back your scream. Twitching and thrusting against her face, you cried into your fist as a wave of white hot bliss burned your nerves.

As you tried to catch your breath and come down from your climax, Dani remained between your legs, kissing your inner thigh as she gently stroked your walls. Not once did she look away from you, drinking in the sight of you coming undone all because of her touch.

“Fuck,” you breathed, closing your eyes and dropping your head onto the couch arm.

Humming, she sat back on her heels as her fingers pulled out of you, only to stroke your slit slowly. “You looked like you had fun.”

Opening your eyes, watching her kneel between your thighs as she continued to stoke your flames and desire… you snapped.

Sitting up, you pushed her against the back of the couch and quickly straddled her thigh before snaking your hand between her thighs. She bit her still grinning lip as you ran the tips of your fingers along her slit.

“I can tease, too,” you warned.

“You can try.”

Raising an eyebrow at her, you grazed her clit, barely touching her. As expected, her lips parted on a needy gasp as her legs clenched around your thigh.

“That’s what I thought.” Leaning in, you caught her lips in a soft kiss.

She moaned against you as you pressed your fingers into her warmth, seeking out her g-spot. Once you found it, you began to grind against her thigh in time with your strokes, dragging your own pleasure out as you built hers up.

Fisting your free hand into her hair, you tugged her head back as you picked up the pace. She gasped against your lips, allowing you to slide your tongue in to lick at hers. Moaning against each other, thrusting against each other, you rode through the waves as you both reached your peaks and fell over the edge.

Clutching at your hips, encouraging you to keep moving, Dani groaned into your mouth as she came on your fingers, walls clenching and twitching around you. Feeling her come undone, still grinding against her thigh, you were pushed over into an orgasm of your own that left you feeling dizzy and satiated.

Dani looked up at you with swollen lips and shimmering eyes. “Bed?”

“Yes. Please.” You nodded.

Guiding you back carefully, she set you on the couch before getting to her feet. Taking your hand, she reached down to grab her shirt as you rose from the couch. Once standing in front of her, she helped you put the shirt on and then took your hand once more. Reaching up, she caressed your cheek and leaned in for another kiss.

Hand in hand, both of you half naked and a little clumsy as tingles of pleasure pulsed through your limbs, you headed off to bed. Neither of you had to say a word, knowing you’d be sleeping together that night.

Bamby

[themissemeritus]

Throne - Noctis Lucis Caelum

Pairing: Noctis Lucis Caelum x Reader 

Requested: No

Warnings: Language, at the very end 

Requests: Open

Song: Throne by Bring Me The Horizon

(A/N) - I try to keep these as gender neutral as possible, but unless it’s specifically requested that reader be gender neutral, female pronouns may be used a few times. Ignore it if you want, or come and request. I take reader insert requests as well as personal requests. :))

Remember the moment you left me alone and Broke every promise you ever made I was an ocean, lost in the open Nothing could take the pain away

Noctis’ heart hand long ago been hardened by the burdens of being royal, as well as the many difficulties he faced on his journey to reclaim his kingdom. The war they were fighting was one not easily won, Noctis figured out pretty early on. The young prince had never really understood the point of the war, not until the death of his father, King Regis. With no Caelum heir sitting on the throne, the kingdom was falling into chaos faster than Prompto was taking pictures. The four boys had been travelling together for the longest time, and never in a million years would any of them think that (Y/N) (L/N), an infamous Lucian assassin, would be joining them. 

So you can throw me to the wolves Tomorrow I will come back Leader of the whole pack Beat me black and blue Every wound will shape me Every scar will build my throne

They had crossed paths with (Y/N) on their way to Cindy’s garage, nearly dying in the process. The assassin had been assigned, by a third party gang leader, to take the life of a rival gang leader. Having been informed of her identity prior to the physical meeting, Noctis made sure to put Gladio on watch for any suspicious moves, ulterior motives. With many daemons programmed to take the life of the last remaining Lucis Caelum, it only seemed smart to invite (Y/N) to travel with them. She now sat in the back seat, between Prompto and Noctis, twirling a small blade in her hands. 

“Stop swinging that thing around, you’re going to kill one of us!” Prompto complained, scooting closer to the door on his right. (Y/N) only scoffed. 

“Please, I’m a professionally trained assassin. I know how to wield a blade and not harm a little bird like yourself.” She said, folding the blade back in on itself and pinching Prompto’s nose. The blonde pouted, turning away slightly. Noctis only chuckled at his friend’s antics. 

The sticks and the stones that You used to throw have Built me an empire So don't even try To cry me a river 'Cause I forgive you You are the reason I still fight

Memories of his father replayed in Noctis’ head as they made the long drive to Cindy’s garage, praying that the car wouldn’t break down before then. The king rarely had time for his son, considering all of his kingly duties in which he had to take care of before his own kin; they had servants and nurses for that, right? 

When they had finally made it to the garage, Noctis sat by himself to the side as Cindy fixed the car, with Prompto shamelessly flirting with the woman. (Y/N) sat down next to the youthful royal, sighing as she did so. 

“How is the future king of Lucis doing today?” She asked, receiving a grunt from Noctis before he decided to have a proper conversation. 

“I’m still alive, right?” He chuckled. “That’s what matters, I guess.” He said, looking towards the girl as she blew a (H/C) lock out of her face. 

“I suppose if that’s the best you can do,” She jabbed lightly, elbowing his arm softly. “What’s a prince like you doing hanging out with someone like me? Are you guys really that desperate for fighters?” (Y/N) asked, half joking, half serious. 

So you can throw me to the wolves Tomorrow I will come back Leader of the whole pack Beat me black and blue Every wound will shape me Every scar will build my throne

“Do you really want to sit through a Lucian history lesson?” Noctis laughed. 

“What else do we have to do here, your majesty?” She asked, laughing herself. 

“Well, buckle up. It’s quite the venture,” Noctis replied, turning towards the girl. “It all started a few years ago. I was sent away by my father, who told me that the throne was in trouble, and that he didn’t have much time left. He told me I needed to fight until I reclaimed the throne, until I ‘avenged’ him. I didn’t know what he meant, considering that I was thirteen years old, and he was still alive. Ever since then, we’ve been fighting to get back into the castle, and we’ve had almost no success. The amount of daemons and people who want the royal line dead is almost astounding, although I suppose there’s always enemies of the crown, right? Well, it’s been four years and I haven’t been able to reclaim the kingdom yet. You don’t suppose you could help with that, could you?” Noctis chuckled, trying to cover up the devastation and heartbreak with humor. 

So you can throw me to the wolves Tomorrow I will come back Leader of the whole pack Beat me black and blue Every wound will shape me Every scar will build my throne

(Y/N) smiled. 

“Of course I’ll be here to help. You think I just tagged along for the ride?” She poked fun at the way in which they’d met, with Gladio right under her blade. After a bit of negotiation from Ignis, she ended up in the backseat with a pouting Glagiolus Amicitia in the passenger seat. 

“Good to know,” Noctis said, looking over to Prompto and Cindy, still flirting shamelessly while the engine was being fixed. Gladio and Ignis sat together on a nearby bench, scrolling through whatever seemed interesting on their phones. “Want to go take a walk? I don’t think this will be done for awhile.” Noctis said, standing up and reaching his arm out to (Y/N), who gladly accepted it. The trails outside of the garage lead to many places Noctis didn’t necessarily want to see, considering the amount of daemons out this particular evening. Arm in arm, the pair wandered aimlessly around the town. 

The young prince couldn’t deny the assassin’s beautiful (S/C) features, stealing glances at her as she gazed around the unfamiliar land. He wondered if he would ever be able to accept a love like this again, after the deaths of both his father and betrothed, Lady Lunafreya. The scars left in his heart and mind seemed as if they would never heal; they only built up his anger and need for vengeance towards the neighboring enemy kingdoms, as well as the daemons and droids sent to attack the prince as his accomplices. 

I'll leave you choking On every word you left unspoken Rebuild all that you've broken And now you know I'll leave you choking On every word you left unspoken Rebuild all that you've broken And now you know Every wound will shape me Every scar will build my throne

Noctis stopped the pair abruptly, confusing the young girl beside him. He turned to her with a nervous, yet adventurous, glint in his eyes. 

“What’s up?” (Y/N) said, offering him a small smile. Her features were lit up by the setting evening sun, giving her (S/K) edges a golden glow. Noctis sighed, and then took in another deep breath. 

“Uhm,” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. Finally deciding on his decision, even if it meant certain death. “I’m sorry about this.” He said. There was a slight objection from (Y/N), wanting to know what the problem was, until the Lucian heir interrupted her thoughts and words with his lips on hers. A surprising, yet certainly not unwelcome, gift. 

For the first time in years, Noctis felt nearly whole again as his mouth moved against (Y/N)’s, his hands pulling her closer by her hips while her hands slid up his body until they found their way into his black hair. 

He paid no mind to his past, or the tasks at hand; all that mattered in this moment was that she made him feel, well, good. That was something that the young prince hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever; and he wouldn’t change a thing about it. 

So you can throw me to the wolves Tomorrow I will come back Leader of the whole pack Beat me black and blue Every wound will shape me Every scar will build my throne

Holy shit, this was so goddamn bad and I’m so sorry. My first few pieces probably will be shit, I’m not even going to lie. Requests are rarely closed so feel free to hit me up with anything you want to see on this blog. I don’t really have any restrictions besides your basic rule against shit like sexism, homophobia, and racism. Thanks for reading, catch ya later ;))

[searchingwardrobes]

Own Worst Enemy: 4/5

Finally, @killiancygnus, I have part four of your birthday fic! You said you were buckled up for the angst, right?

Summary: Killian Jones can’t figure out why he’s waking up in a cold room in a tux with his best friend Emma Swan in his closet. Maybe we need to rewind the night … Based on the song “Own Worst Enemy” by Lit. The idea of the game is for Fran to choose which lyrics I tackle next. Part four is based on these lines:

and now you're gone

It’s no surprise to me, I am my own worst enemy

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

And guess what, Fran? I’ve got part 5 almost finished for this line: Cause every now and then I kick the living shit out of me

Tagging the usuals (I hope): @jennjenn615 @kday426 @snowbellewells @let-it-raines @welllpthisishappening @kmomof4 @winterbaby89 @teamhook @bethacaciakay @optomisticgirl @whimsicallyenchantedrose @delirious-latenight-laughs @resident-of-storybrooke @thislassishooked @wellhellotragic @branlovestowrite @shireness-says @ultraluckycatnd @xhookswenchx @distant-rose @tiganasummertree 

“So let me get this straight, little brother. You and Emma got drunk and decided to . . . get married?”

Killian groans, taking fistfuls of his hair and tugging. “It would seem so.”

Liam’s pacing nervously back and forth across his living room, lecturing him like he’s a teenager again. But honestly, none of his words are penetrating Killian’s brain. How can they when all he can keep focusing on is the fact that Emma left so abruptly? Liam had extended his hand and helped her up off the floor of the closet that had been Killian’s when he was in high school. The Pearl Jam posters were still hanging inside. Emma had swayed to her feet, groaning as she clutched her head.

“What am I wearing?” she had grumbled. Then she had looked over at Killian on the bed in his rumpled tux and covered in her lipstick. “Oh shit!” she had cried, and before he could even open his mouth, she was racing out of the house so fast Killian was surprised she hadn’t left skid marks.

*****************************************************

“Okay, back up, you did what?”

“I don’t know.” Emma whines, grabbing one of Ruby’s throw pillows and pressing it against her face.

“You got married?”

“Maybe?” Emma mumbles from behind the pillow. “We got drunk and we kissed at the docks, and then, well, it all got a little fuzzy.”

“Well, okay,” Ruby says plopping down on the end of the couch with her laptop, fingers flying over the keys, “so . . . let’s look into this . . . uh oh.”

“What?” Emma says, struggling to sit up and see her friend’s computer. “What do you mean, uh oh?”

“Maine has no waiting period on marriage licenses. You could get one and then get married five minutes later.”

“Shit.” Emma flops back onto the couch. “And I thought you getting back together with Victor and setting fire to the bathroom was the wild part of the night.”

“I didn’t get back together with him. After we hooked up in the bathroom, I went home with a guy whose name I can’t remember.” Ruby says all this casually, still scrolling through a Google search.

Emma arches a brow “Seriously?”

Ruby rolls her eyes and lobs a throw pillow at Emma’s head. “No, actually, Victor and I came back here and fell asleep on my couch watching some zombie show on Netflix. I’m just not sure how to process that you had a wilder night than I did.”

Emma groans as she hugs the pillow to her abdomen. “No waiting period, huh? Are Killian and I really married then?”

Ruby sighs and pats Emma’s thigh reassuringly. “Oh hon, that’s what I’m trying to figure out.

***************************************************

Killian exhales an irritated breath as he tries for what feels like the fifth time to do his bow tie. He knows how, his hands are just still shaking. Last night is something he can’t stop thinking about. Nor Emma’s departure afterward. He’d never seen such a panicked look on her face.

“Killian?”

He turns to see his brother leaning around the doorway.

“Are they ready for me?”

“No, not yet,” Liam sighs as he enters the room, holding out his cell phone. “It’s Emma. She called my phone. Says she can’t reach you on yours.”

Killian searches the dresser in front of him, then pats his thighs and jacket pockets with a frown on his face. “Shit, my phone must be lost in my old room somewhere.”

He takes the phone from his brother, who leaves the room with a sympathetic gaze. Since he’s alone in the room, he turns it on speaker phone and sets it on the dresser so he can wrangle the stupid bow tie. David and Mary Margaret will be through with their pictures any minute and the wedding coordinator will be coming to get him.

“Swan?”

“We didn’t get married.”

His hands freeze on his tie. “Umm . . . “

He can hear her sharp exhale of breath as if she’s irritated with him. “We didn’t get married –,” she repeats, “we couldn’t have. We would have to go to the municipal building to get a license, and they wouldn’t have been open.”

“I know,” he says, giving up on the tie, his entire body deflating, “I checked.”

“And there aren’t any 24-hour wedding chapels in driving distance either,” she continues as if she hasn’t even heard him.

“I know that too.”

“Oh.”

There’s a long silence between them, and Killian picks up the phone to turn off the speaker and presses it to his ear.

“Listen, Swan, what happened last night revealed -”

“Stop. Don’t say anything, please. We were drunk, that’s all. It didn’t mean anything.”

“But that’s what I’m trying to tell you, it meant something to me.”

“What?” He can perfectly imagine her shaking her head. “I mean, that’s ridiculous.”

Killian presses his eyes closed, his jaw clenching. He knows he may scare her to death, but he can’t hold in his feelings any longer. “No, it’s not. I love you, Emma.”

“Is this about the . . . the making out? I mean, it’s fuzzy, but I remember it. You’re a good kisser, I remember that too, but . . . that’s all that it was. Kissing. Drunk kissing.”

Killian drops down onto the edge of a chair in the corner. “Emma,” he says in a gentle voice, ”I’ve loved you since the first day we patrolled together. The rum just gave me the guts to act on it.”

The phone went dead in his hand.

******************************************************

“And now the best man and maid of honor dance!”

The look that Emma gives Killian as he turns towards her on the dance floor is frightening. She’s done an amazingly good job of avoiding him so far today, but even Emma won’t cause a scene when it’s David and Mary Margaret’s special day. So acting as if she’s on her way to the gallows, she shuffles to Killian and sticks out her arms robotically. He arches a brow at her as he takes a stiff hand in his and rests his other at her waist. Emma takes a step back.

“What kind of dancing is this?” he growls.

“Six inches,” she snaps back, gesturing at the air between them, “you know. I thought an old-fashioned gentleman like you would be familiar with that old rule.”

“Come on, Emma be mature about this.”

“Fine,” she concedes, tossing him a pout to rival the one that Roland, the six year old ring-bearer, gave to his mother Regina when she forced him to put on his bow tie.

“It’s just one dance,” he bites out, clenching his jaw, “and you didn’t mind dancing with me last night.”

Her eyes flash, and he knows he made a tactical error. She tries to step away, but he tightens his hold on her and bends to whisper in her ear.

“For David and Mary Margaret.”

The song seems to last an eternity and the second it ends, Emma flees the dance floor.

*******************************************************

Killian leaves the wedding as early as good manners will allow for the best man. Not that Emma cared about etiquette when she made her exit. Even from across the room, he saw Mary Margaret’s brow furrow when he maid of honor hugged her goodbye. When Killian takes his leave, David is more direct.

“Are you and Emma okay?”

Killian flashes his best smile, not wanting his friends to have reason to worry on their wedding day. “Of course we are.”

David crosses his arms and scowls. “You were dancing weird.”

“Weird?”

“There was like three feet between you. Like you both had halitosis.”

“Six inches, actually, and it’s not like we had a choice to dance.” Killian wincee. Not exactly a festive attitude for the best man.

“You didn’t mind dancing last night.”

He really hopes his face isn’t as red as it feels. He ducks his head and starts to scratch behind his ear. When he sees David’s eyebrows rise, he remembers what an obvious tell that is and drops his hand back to his side.

“We’re fine, mate, really. You and your bride should focus on your newly wedded bliss, not me and Emma and our roller coaster friendship.”’

David gives him a smile and a slap on the shoulder, and Killian lets out a breath of relief. He knows his friend will grill him when he gets back from his honeymoon, but at least he and Mary Margaret will enjoy the rest of the reception. They are both far too compassionate.

Even though it’s the last place he wants to see right now, Killian swings by his brother’s place and searches his old room for his phone. Despite the wedding, if there’s an emergency, he might get a call from Graham. His brother hasn’t touched the room, and the bedsheets are still rumpled. Two bottles of rum stick out from beneath the bedspread. Crushed flower petals litters the carpet, and Killian has a flash of memory from the night before. They were at a 24 hour market that had pitiful bouquets of flowers for sale by the register.

Come, Swan, every bride needs a bouquet.

At least they hadn’t actually gotten married. Or slept together. Funny that he wasn’t sure of the first but absolutely certain of the second. When it comes to Emma, there are some things he knows he would have no trouble remembering, regardless of how much he’d had to drink.

He finds his phone on the bed, underneath one of the pillows. The battery is completely drained, of course. When he gets home, he plugs it in and sets it on his nightstand. He then proceeds to lay there staring at the ceiling for hours. No matter what he does, he can’t stop berating himself for so thoroughly screwing things up with Emma. At four am, he gives up and reaches over for his phone.

The battery is at one hundred percent, so he powers it up. The first thing he notices is a new lock screen. How he’d managed to change it in his heavily inebriated state he isn’t sure. It’s a selfie of he and Emma at the market buying her bridal bouquet. They’re both laughing, and Emma is brandishing the flowers like a sword. He can’t help chuckling at it. Once he unlocks his phone, he finds more pictures. They’re surprisingly good for two drunken fools. There’s one of Emma blowing him a kiss in that ridiculous Madonna costume. There’s one of them in the Bug, dressed up and ready for their “wedding” with Emma brandishing a ring pop on her hand. He shakes his head, laughing again. Then in the next picture, Emma is kissing him on the cheek, and his chuckle turns to a groan. Unable to look at them anymore, he tosses his phone to the side and flings his arm across his face.

He loves her so much it physically hurts.

**************************************************************

Killian is unapologetically a depressing, lazy bum on Sunday, binge-watching Stranger Things and never leaving the couch. He tries to call Emma, but it goes straight to voicemail every time. He doesn’t even bother leaving a message. He isn’t having this conversation unless he and Emma are face to face, and come Monday, she won’t be able to ignore him anymore.

Or so he thinks.

He arrives at the station at 8 am sharp, and is beyond shocked to see Emma’s yellow Bug already in its usual space in the lot. He’s only just walked through the door when he collides with her. She’s carrying the contents of her desk in a cardboard box. His shocked gaze alternates between her face and the box in her arms.

“What the hell is this?”

Emma chews on her bottom lip, and her expression is clearly panicked. He knows that look, and it suddenly all falls into place.

“You’re quitting,” he says, “and you tried to sneak out of here before I got to work this morning.”

Emma balances the box on one hip while she pushes her hair out of her face. “Come on, Kil, you knew my friend Merida has been begging me to come work with her. As a private investigator, I can set my own hours and eventually make more money. Plus, she’s got room at her place in Boston.”

“And you decided this when?” Killian’s voice is rising, but he can’t help it. “In the last 24 hours?”

She shrugs. “Merida called yesterday, and I figured I needed to stop making excuses.”

“Bullshit.”

Emma’s eyes flash fire. “Okay then, want the truth?”

“Yes, actually.”

“I can’t work with someone who’s crossed the line of a working relationship.”

Killian grabs the box out of her hand and sets it on the ground. When he rises, he steps right into her personal space. He can tell from the tense set of her shoulders that she wants to take a step back, but she stubbornly stands her ground.

“Also bullshit.”

She rolls her eyes. “Then believe what you want, but it’s the truth.”

“No, the truth is, you’re running because you can see a future here. A happy one, and that scares you.”

Emma crosses her arms and scowls. “Let me guess, with you?”

They’re both breathing heavily, the frustration between them palpable. Killian deflates, however, gentleness enfusing his voice. “Yes, actually.”

Her eyes widen for a moment, but then she blinks and shoulders past him to grab her box. She mumbles something about David and Mary Margaret and how it’s time to move on herself, basically words that don’t really make sense, and then she’s out the door.

All he can do is stand there and watch her toss the box in her backseat then slide behind the wheel. He’s said what he felt; he won’t chase her. She drives away, and the breath leaves his body.

She’s gone.