#she doesn’t think she did anything wrong because she thinks Emma should be grateful.. and sees her mistake at the end as just that.

[priyemma]

Priya is so blinded by her focus on the game that she shows little to no empathy for Emma feeling betrayed (after being lied to!) because she thinks it’s for the good of the game. Literally forcing her to answer and not showing any guilt or remorse. This isn’t Priya hate btw it’s angst because ugh! I love her! And she was wrong!

[atlafan]

Office Neighbors - Part Eleven

a/n: another part where a lot happens, I think you all will be happy the little surprise at the end, enjoy! (reblogs and feedback are super helpful!) not proofread, sorry!

warnings: slight angst?, fluff, and smut

words: 13.8K

masterpost

Another school year down, you couldn’t believe it. Two entire years done, and only more until it’s your turn to walk across the stage. Now that it was getting nicer out, your new favorite to work was the back deck, especially when Harry would come out and bring you a glass of wine. It wasn’t lost on you how much he doted on you. If you got cold, he was right there with a blanket and your fuzzy socks, if you were hungry he was right there with a snack. There was plenty you did for him, or that you did equally, like laundry and cooking and cleaning, but it was hard not to notice the way her almost…babies you.

Now, most of the time, men were the ones that liked to be babied in relationships, and that’s not to say that Harry doesn’t. He loves when he gets to lay his head on your chest and you play with his hair, or when you scrub his head in the shower, or the mornings you get up before him and lay his clothes out for him. You both took care of each other in different ways, which was nice, but he was used to taking care of someone in a parental way.

Harry was extremely different at work, though. He didn’t want to give students or colleagues a reason to tease either of you, so despite his clingy nature, he wouldn’t be too kissy or huggy with you. He was thankful that the school year was over so he could love on you all he wanted.

He had his own work as well, he had his latest manuscript. He would try to work when you were working, but sometimes he got writer’s block, or inspiration would hit at an odd hour. You loved watching him work, and if it was the middle of the night with him working away, you’d crawl into his lap and tell him it was time for bed. To which he happily listened.

It was weird being home while Andy was still in school, but it left you with plenty of time to plan his party. This year his party would be at your house since it was at Paige’s last year. You wanted to make sure there were tons of yard games for all the kids to play, and also things for the adults to do. You and Andy started crafting a playlist together that Harry was not allowed to help with because “no one my age wants to listen to Fleetwood, get over it!” was an argument you were sick of listening to, plus it was nice to have something to do together.

“Okay, we’ve got horseshoes, badminton, water balloons, and corn-hole, that should plenty of things for people to do back here.” You say as you look around the yard. Andy and Harry were just getting the badminton net into place.

“We also have a volleyball in case they wanna play that instead.” Harry says. “And we’ve got all the snacks in the world to keep everyone happy until I get to grilling.”

“So is this less of a family party?” You ask him.

“Little bit, I mean, Lydia, Allie and Ned will be here, but that’s it for Paige’s side. There’s more friends coming this year, that’s for sure.”

“I’m getting the Bluetooth going so there’s music when people start to show up.” Andy says. “I’m really excited, Caroline’s sisters are coming, and they’re really nice.”

“Is her oldest still coming to the university in the fall?” You ask.

“Yup.” He smiles.

Andy and Caroline had remained…close oddly enough. Brandon was still with Molly, and Andy couldn’t quite figure out why. Although, it was giving him more time to sort out all of his feelings. He really didn’t want to be in a relationship just yet. He just wanted to have fun with his friends.  

“I hope they’re not bored here.” Harry runs a hand through his hair.

“The corn-hole should keep them occupied, babe, don’t worry.”

“What are their names again?” Harry asks.

“Emma is the oldest, then Sophie and Charlotte.”

“Right, the twins.”

“I’m gonna go put the sign on the door to let people know they can just come to the back.” You say.

“I’ll tie the balloons to the mailbox!” Andy says and Harry sighs as he watches him go inside.

“What’s wrong?” You ask Harry as you walk up the stairs to the deck.

“Nothing…he’s just…twelve.” He pouts at you and you pout back.

“Please don’t cry.”

“I’m not.” He huffs. “He’s getting too old, I’m over this whole growing up thing.”

“But look at what a nice young man he’s growing into!” You put your hand on his shoulder. “Try to celebrate instead of dwell.”

“What are we, at a funeral?” He smirks.

You roll your eyes at him and go inside. The house was spick and span, thank god. This summer you’d be tackling renovating the kitchen since Andy would be at Paige’s. You were excited to do this with Harry. The new cabinets and granite were all ordered. You both just needed to do all the demo yourselves and then the contractors could come to do the rest.

“Mum and Noah are here!” Andy yells from outside, and you and Harry go out front to greet them.

“I…I promised myself I wouldn’t cry, but look at you, you’re twelve!” Paige blubbers and throws her arms around Andy.

“Mum, please.” He groans as he hugs her back.

“None of your friends are here yet, I get to do this now.” She kisses his cheek and lets him go. “Gram will be here soon with your aunt and uncle.”

“Happy birthday, Andy!” Rachel says brightly as she hops out of the car, giving him a hug.

All it took was for Paige and Harry to make eye contact and they both burst into tears. They side hug each other as they both look at Andy.

“He’s so grown up, and I swear he’s getting taller by the minute.” She says.

“It’s not fair, he was a baby just yesterday.”

“You two need to get a grip.” Andy says.

“Yeah.” Rachel agrees. “I’m getting second-hand embarrassment.”

The two giggle and start walking around back. You and Noah stand there awkwardly as Paige and Harry let each other go.

“Right, well, we, uh, brought some extra snacks, and all the gifts are in the trunk.” Noah says.

“I can help bring all that in.” You say. “What do you all typically do for Rachel’s birthdays?” You ask him as you lead him inside.

“Well, we usually go to Florida to visit with her grandparents. She loves it. Sort of a daddy-daughter thing.”

“Oh, that’s so nice!”

“Yeah, her birthday’s in October, so the weather is usually perfect.”

Friends and other family members start to show up. Andy was such a social butterfly. You could really tell that he was popular amongst his friend group. He was making everyone laugh. All of the yard games were a big hit, and Caroline’s older sisters even seemed to be having a good time. You were up on the deck sipping a drink when Harry came up from behind you to hug you.

“Having a good time, darling?” He says to you.

“Yes, thank you.” You chuckle. “Are you?”

“Mhm, I’m really glad the weather stayed so nice, I was nervous it would rain.” He kisses your cheek. “I’m gonna get the grill fired up.”

“Alright, do you want some help?”

“Maybe if you could just help me organize the food out here on the table? We could set it up buffet style.”

“On it.” You head inside as Harry turns the grill on.

Harry was feeling a lot of things today, his son was officially a preteen, and all sorts of things could start changing for him this summer. He could start to see pimples, or his voice may start getting lower, or pretty much anything else. Then there was you. Harry usually had to recruit another parent to help him with his parties for Andy, but he didn’t have to do that this time because he had you. You were on top of everything, and he was grateful. He was also just proud to show you off to so many people. For years everyone saw him as this single dad, but now they got to see him in a fully functioning relationship with a wonderful person.

“Okay, here’s all the burgers and dogs.”

“Y/N!” You whip your head and see your parents, Phil, and Julian.

“Oh good!” You say and head down the stairs of the deck to go greet them. “Did you get stuck in traffic?” You ask as you hug your family.

“Just a tad.” Phil says. “There was an accident on the other side, and you know how people love to rubber-neck.”

“Well, you’re here now, that’s all that matters. Feel free to go inside and freshen up, Harry’s just getting the grill started, but there are other snacks, and there’s drinks in the coolers.”

As you were talking Noah and Paige were playing a game of corn-hole with Ned and Allie.

“Oh, who’s that?” Noah points over to you.

“That must be her parents and brother, and his partner. How nice for them all to come!”

“Just don’t pounce on them Paige.” Allie tells her.

“What are you talking about? I’ll be friendly…”

“I’m not saying you won’t, just let her bring them over to introduce you, don’t go over to them first.”

You lead your family inside, after they all say hello to Harry. You wanted to give them a tour of the place you now called home. You explain your plans for the kitchen, and they all nod along.

“It’s a lovely home, honey.” Your mom says. “Very spacious, plenty of room to grow.”

“Yeah! The basement couch has a pull out in case we need to turn the guest room into a nursery at some point, and the loft could easily be converted into a bedroom too.”

“Slow down there, you just moved in.” You dad chuckles.

“I’m just saying, we’ve thought ahead.”

You lead everyone back outside, and down the stairs. Andy notices your family and smiles, he had no idea they were coming. He runs over to you.

“Andy, look who’s here.” You say to him.

“Hi!” He gives everyone a hug. “Thanks for coming to my party.”

“We wouldn’t miss it!” Your mom says. “You’re twelve today?”

“Yeah.” He smiles. “Would you like to meet my friends?”

“Sure.” Phil says.

Andy waves over Brandon and Caroline, and they both come jogging over.

“You guys, these are Y/N’s parents, um…”

“Rebecca and Richard.” Your dad says with a smile.

“Right, and this is her big brother Phil and his Julian.”

Phil and Julian smile at each other and say hello.

“These are my two best friends, Brandon and Caroline.”

Brandon felt bile in the back of his throat. Since when did Andy consider Caroline to be his other best friend?

“Hey, Andy, your friend Tyler…” Rachel had come over but she trails off.

“Rachel, these are my parents and my brothers.” You tell her.

“Hello!” She smiles brightly. “I’m Andy’s step-sister.”

“Well aren’t you just a precious little thing!” Your mom says.

“You’re Jewish like me, right?”

“Why yes we are.” Your dad says.

“When we went on our ski trip together, Y/N sat with me and helped with my alefbet.”

“She was pretty good at reading from the Torah as a kid.” Phil says. “I wasn’t so lucky.”

“You just never studied.” You tease him.

“Not all of us can be book worms, Y/N.” He sighs.

“My mum’s over there…” Andy points. “Do you all want to meet her?”

“That would be great.” Your dad says. You look back at Harry who was talking with Mr. Stewart as he grilled, and then you look over towards Paige.

“Yeah, let’s have everyone meet.” You say and lead them over. “Paige? I hate to interrupt the game…”

“Not at all!” She says with a smile. “Hello.” She says towards your family.

“These are my parents, Rebecca and Richard, my brother Phil, and his partner Julian.”

“It’s so nice to meet you all, I’m Andy’s mother, this is my fiancé, Noah, and my sister Allie and her husband Ned.”

Everyone shakes hands. The kids had run off to go play, so it was just the adults right now.

“We absolutely adore Andy.” Your mom tells Paige. “He’s a sweet boy.”

“Oh, thank you.” She smiles. “He raved about those paints you got him, he uses them all the time.” Out of the corner of her eye, Paige spots Lydia and waves her over. “This is my mother, Lydia. Mum, these are Y/N’s parents, and brothers.”

“Nice to meet all of you.” She smiles to the best of her ability and shakes their hands.

“Well, I need to go see what else Harry needs help with, so I’ll leave you grown-ups to chat.”

“We’ll help too.” Phil says. “I am a chef after all.” He tugs Julian along, full well knowing how nasty Lydia can be from what you’ve told them. Your parents could easily handle it. “She looks too nice to be a bitch.” Phil smirks.

“Trust me, she has her moments, although, she doesn’t make many comments too me anymore.” You smirk back.

All of the kids enjoy the freshly grilled food that they were ravenous for. After lunch was the balloon toss. Harry pairs up with Andy, just like last year, and you decide to participate with Phil.

“I swear, if you whip this thing at me…” He says as you’re still relatively close.

“Don’t be such a baby. It’s a trust exercise if anything.”

“Mhm, exactly.”

“I prank you with one whoopee cushion and-“

“You did that in front of my prom date!”

“Well, good thing you’re gay or else I’d be more concerned that I embarrassed you in front of her.”

Phil bursts out laughing as you continue to toss the balloon. He ends up dropping it at one point, which disqualifies you. Caroline and Rachel are out next, and then Tyler and Alexis. Brandon has paired up with his dad, and it was down to the four of them again. Mr. Stewart drops the balloon at the last second, which causes for Andy and Harry to be champs once again.

Once everyone settles a bit, it’s time for cake and gifts. Andy’s friends got him some good gift certificates and other little things.

“A new skateboard!” Andy beams. “Thanks, Noah.”

“You’re welcome, buddy.” Noah smiles proudly. Things were going really well recently between him and Andy. “That’s from my parents, they send their love.” Andy nods at him.  

Next up you had passed him the gift your family brought him. You had no idea what it could be.

“Holy shhhh-cow.” Andy corrects himself as he tears the wrapping paper open. “A home pottery kit?!”

“Y/N mentioned to us how much you enjoy the clay in your art classes, and we found this for kids.” Your mom explains. “Do you like it?”

“I love it! Thank you so much.”

Lydia had gotten him some new ski equipment which he was grateful for. You give your family a thumbs up. The last gift was one from you, Harry, Paige, and Noah as it cost a pretty penny. It was just in an envelope. He opens it carefully, and his eyes widen, nearly welling up with tears.

“No way.” He looks at the four of you.

“What is it, Andy?” Brandon asks.

“Three tickets to the Ariana Grande concert and…a pass for a meet and greet.”

“Whoa!” Caroline exclaims. “That’s incredible!”

Andy stands up and gives everyone a hug, thanking you all profusely.

“Think this’ll hold you over until you get a phone next year?” Paige asks him.

“Definitely.”

He knew the three tickets implied that he could bring a friend with him, and the obvious choice was Caroline. Brandon didn’t mind Ari, but it was something that Andy and Caroline really bonded over. He could talk to her about it later.

The party was a huge success, and Andy was feeling super happy. It was nice for him to see so many people interacting.

“Well, we better get going since it’s getting late.” Paige says to him, giving him a big hug and kiss. “I’m so glad you had a good birthday, baby.”

“Me too, thanks again for everything, Mum.”

He says goodbye to Noah, Rachel, Allie, Ned, and Lydia as well. Then he takes his time saying goodbye to your family. Needless to say he was pooped by the time everyone left.

“When can I use the pottery kit?” He asks Harry as he cleans some things in the kitchen.

“I can set it up in the garage one of these weekends and you can go to town.”

“Alright!” Andy exclaims. “I’m gonna go to bed early I think, I’m tired, but thanks for everything today.”

“You’re welcome, but don’t just thank me.” He nods towards you and Andy gives you a hug.

“Thanks, Y/N.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

He lets you go and heads to his room. Once his door is closed Harry yanks you towards him and you giggle.

“Laugh all you want, but I’m going to ravage you tonight.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm.” He ghosts his lips along your jawline before kissing on your neck, sucking a little making you moan softly. “You were incredible today. Well, you’re incredible every day, but…everything just meant a lot to me.”

“I really feel like we’re a family, you know? I love it so much, more than I ever thought I would.”

Harry kisses you, a little more passionately than you were expecting, but it was still nice.

“Go on into the bedroom, I’ll be in after I finish with the dishes.”

“Nonsense, I can help.”

“Don’t be silly, I’ve got it.”

“Harry, I can help with the dishes.”

“I know you can, and you usually do, but you don’t have to worry about it right now. I want you to go in and wait for me.”

“Okay…” You turn away and stop short to look back at him. “I think I’m gonna run a bath…long day outside.”

“Put in that lavender bath bomb for me, would you?”

You smile and nod and head into your room’s en suite. Tonight was going to be a good night.

//

Harry slips into the tub, and you sit in front of him. He had checked on Andy before coming in, and the poor kid had all but passed out in his bed. You rest your head on Harry’s shoulder as you both relax.

“This was an excellent idea.” He sighs. “Feel like we don’t take advantage of the tub enough.”

“We don’t usually have time.”

“Well, with school over we will, especially during the day with Andy at school.”

“I’m gonna miss him when we send him off to Paige’s…”

“It’s a month away, babe. Plus, we’ll still see him plenty.”

“I know…”

“You’ll come camping again, yeah? He and Brandon are really looking forward to the annual trip.”

“Oh, definitely! And this time when we wake up all snuggled up it won’t be weird.”

“Can’t believe that was almost a year ago.” He kisses your temple. “Now we’re living together, it’s wild.”

“I’m really glad the school doesn’t care about colleagues dating, or we’d be in a real pickle.”

“Oh, I would have just secretly dated you.”

“Oh, really?” You turn slightly to look at him.

“Yeah, you’re talking to an unapologetic romantic here, a secret romance would be, like, right up my alley.”

“You’re an idiot.” You giggle and kiss his cheek. “Can you believe I only have one more year of doctoral work to do and then I’m done? I can’t wait for my work to be published.”

“I was thinking…the journal that publishes my works is always looking for younger people in the field, if you ever wanted to chat with them.”

“No, that’s your thing, babe, but thank you. Lisa has a few names of some people for me anyways.” You take his hand and kiss his soapy knuckles. “But, I will need your help soon. I need to start working on my defense presentation.”

“Who’s on your committee?”

“Lisa, Sandra, Dan and Alice from English, Patricia from Psychology, and Greg from Philosophy.”

“Good group.”

“Thanks, I thought it was pretty decent. And then obviously whoever else wants to come can. I just want the presentation to feel fun and eye-opening. You’re so good at captivating your audience, I wanna work on that.”

“You know I have horrible stage fright?”

“No way.”

“Way! I get all these nerves right before I need to give a lecture like that, but I accept the fear and use it to help me give a good performance.”

“Do you ever get nervous before teaching a class?”

“I’m always nervous on the first day, but once we get rolling and I can gauge how the kids will be I’m usually fine.”

“Same for me.”

“Well, I’m more than happy to help you, baby, you know that.”

“Thank you.”

His arms were wrapped around you stomach gently. One of his hands starts to drift lower, and between your legs, causing your breath to hitch.

“Alright?” He says into your ear.

“Mhm.” You say as you part your legs a little for him. His other hand come up to grope one of your breasts.

His fingers rub circles into your clit before slipping into your center. You groan and buck your hips forward by accident. His other hand comes up to your mouth.

“Gotta be quiet, baby.” He coos as his fingers pump in and out of you. You nod against him and removes his hand. “That’s my good girl.”

“Harry.” You whine softly. “Wanna ride you.”

“Okay.” You move to turn around but he stops you. “Should be able to just slip it in like this, yeah?”

“Let’s give it a try.”

You lift yourself up enough for him to line himself up with you and you sink down on him. He thrusts up into you and you gasp. He brings his fingers to your mouth for you to suck on and you reach back to do the same thing for him as you continue to fuck each other. His other hand stays rubbing your clit, and you feel yourself getting closer and closer. You start squeezing around him, tighter and tighter. You moan out around his fingers once you’ve gotten your release. Harry as to quickly lift you off him to come on your back.

“Jesus, shit.” He pants. “That was a close one.” He kisses your shoulder before pressing his forehead against it. He reaches for a washcloth to dip into the water to clean your back up. You hum your response as your eyes flutter closed.

“M’sleepy now.”

“Me too, love, come on.”

He helps you stand up and you both towel off and get ready for bed. Harry gives you kisses and smooches before you turn over so he can spoon you.

“Love you so much.” He sighs as his arm wraps around you.

“I love you too.” You adjust against him and sigh as well.

//

“Straight A’s again!” Andy says as he slaps his report card down on the table when he gets home from his last day of school. “Also not to brag, but Caroline and I won the three-legged race during field day, so I think ice cream is in order.”

“You didn’t partner up with Brandon?” Harry asks.

“Caroline got to me first.” Andy shrugs. “Please, Dad, can we get ice cream?

“Yeah, please, Dad.” You pout with Andy, and Harry sighs with a chuckle.

“Alright, we can get ice cream after dinner tonight.”

Y/N and Andy high five to celebrate.

“Andy, things are okay with you and Brandon, right?” Harry asks him.

“Yeah, they’re fine.”

“Did he ever, um, try to teach you anything again?” You ask, carefully.

“No.” Andy shakes his head. “We never really talked about it. He’s excited for the camping trip though.”

“Well, that’s good.” Harry says. “It’ll be a nice couple of days.”

After dinner you all go downtown to get ice cream at the local shop, and sit outside to enjoy your treats. You smirk to yourself as Andy bites into your sundae.

“You know, I’m pretty sure I joined you for this last year, but I recall you not being able to get topping because you texted me with your dad’s phone.”

“Oh, yeah!” Andy chuckles. “That was pretty good.”

“You’re a little too sly for your own good.” Harry says. “I could have gotten her to come with us on my own.”

“Yeah, but you were taking too long. Sometimes you have to take some initiative, Dad.” Andy smirks as Harry rolls his eyes.

“Eat your ice cream.”

You laugh at that, and gives Harry’s hand a squeeze.

“Either way it was nice to be included. Do you have big summer plans with Mum, Andy?”

“Yes and no. I mean, her wedding is next month, so that’ll take up some time, and then Rachel and I will come stay with you when they’re on their honeymoon. But I think in between all that Noah’s got some boat trips planned. I like fishing with him.”

“That’s right…they’ll be with us for my birthday…” You look at Harry. “I don’t know what my family has planned…”

“I was hoping to take everyone up to the cabin that week so it still felt like a little vacation.”

“Oh, that would be fun!”

“Your family could come up if they wanted.”

“I don’t wanna create more work.”

“You wouldn’t be, I think it would be fun.”

“Yeah! We can go on the jet skis.”

“You mean you can go on the jet skis. I’ll watch from the shore.” You laugh.

“It’s actually pretty fun.” Harry grins.

“I’ll take your word for it.”

//

Brandon slept over the night before the camping trip so you all could leave bright and early. Harry was taking you up a different 4,000 footer. You must have asked him a dozen times if there would be a bathroom there, and every time Harry said yes, so you believed him.

The boys were really excited. You could hear them up late talking about the view they’d have since Andy had hiked it before. Brandon seemed thrilled to be having some one on one time with Andy. As you started up the trail, you could tell they were having a good time by the sounds of their laughter.

“Doing alright so far?” Harry asks you. “Other than the couple of small hikes we went on last month, this is, like, your first big one of the season.”

“Oh, sure, I’m fine. I’ll probably be sore tomorrow. I’m just happy to be outside, you know?”

“Definitely. I hate seeing you all cooped up.”

“Can’t help it.”

“I like seeing you do your work out on the deck.”

“I love having an outdoor space to do it in, you have no idea.”

It was a very long hike, full of breaks, and look out points. You all weren’t in a rush, which always made things more fun. Once you’re at the summit you all drop your gear with relief. Tons of pictures are taken, and then you head off to find the bathroom while the boys set up the tents. It felt like an anniversary in a way. This when you sort of realized you might like Harry as more than a friend. You’ll never forget waking up with him like you did.

“You guys are speedy.” You say after coming back.

“I’d say we’re professionals at this point.” Andy says and it makes you laugh.

As the sun starts to set, you all get cozy around the fire. Harry had made a nice dinner, and now you were enjoying some s’mores. The boys say goodnight first, and then you and Harry clean up before heading into your own tent.

“Look at us, sleeping in a double wide sleeping bag.” You giggle as you cozy up to him.

“Should have just done this last year too. I think that really would have put out there how I was feeling.” He chuckles and kisses your hairline.

“At least it won’t be awkward when you wake up spooning me.”

“I never thought it was awkward.” He strokes your cheek with his thumb. “Especially not with how you looked up at me.”

“I wanted you to kiss me that morning.”

“I did too.” He pecks your lips.

“I love kissing you.”

“Love kissing you too, baby.”

While you and Harry were whispering sweet nothings to each other, Andy and Brandon were have their own conversation in their tent.

“So, your mom’s wedding is next month, are you excited?” Brandon asks Andy as they get settled into their sleeping bags.

“Yeah, I get to walk her down the aisle, so that’ll be cool.”

“Is your dad going?”

“Officially, yeah.” Andy sighs. “I think Y/N told him it would be good to go for the whole thing, and he agreed. Although, I think he said he plans on sitting all the way in the back.” Andy laughs. “I know it’s gotta be awkward for him.” Andy rolls over onto his side to look at Brandon easier, and Brandon does the same. “When do you, um, go to camp?”

“Last week of July through the first week of August…well, that’s when I usually go, I don’t know if I wanna go this year. I have another week to decide.”

“Why don’t you wanna go?”

“Because of Molly.” Brandon groans. “We broke up again.”

“You did?!”

“Yeah.”

“When?”

“Like…two days ago…”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I figured I’d tell you this weekend, it’s not a big deal, but I don’t really feel like dealing with her for two weeks. I’m keep my fingers crossed that we won’t have the same schedule next year.”

“So, you don’t think you’re immediately going to get back together with her when school starts?” Andy laughs.

“Nope.” Brandon smiles. “I’m over her.”

“Cool…” Andy blushes. “Well, if you don’t end up going to camp, um, my mum said I could invite a few friends to her wedding.”

“Oh, yeah?” Brandon raises an eyebrow at him. “Who else are you going to invite?”

“Probably Caroline and Tyler.”

“Andy…if you still like her so much, why did you break up?”

“I like being friends with her, I don’t know. I don’t think I was ready for all that…dating someone…maybe when I’m older.”

“There were a few rumors going around that you liked someone more than her.” Andy’s eyes widen at Brandon. “Is that true?”

“Yeah.” Andy swallows. “Yeah, there’s someone I like more than her, but I’m still not really ready to date so I’ve been keeping it to myself.”

“Who, um, who is it?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Why?” Brandon frowns. “You’re my best friend, Andy…I’d tell you if I liked someone.”

“Would you?” Andy sits up and looks the other way. Brandon sits up as well.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

“Can I ask you something first?”

“Okay.”

“If…if Tyler had been nervous about kissing Alexis…would you have offered to show him how like you did with me?”

Brandon’s face flushes. He was thankful that it was dark in the tent.

“Well, he’s not even with her, so it doesn’t matter does it?”

“Yes it does. Would you have done that with anyone?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re my best friend.” Brandon takes a deep breath. “You have been for as long as I can remember, Andy. I mean…the day you told me that you weren’t going back to your mom’s for the school year was, like, more exciting than any present I’ve ever gotten. Getting to start middle school with you was like a dream come true. Ty’s great and all, but he’s not my best friend.”

“So…that’s all it was then? Because I’m your best friend and you just wanted to help?”

“Yeah.”

Andy nods and lays back down. Brandon does the same. They both lay on their backs.

“You’re gonna tell me who else you like, are you?”

“No.” Andy looks at Brandon slightly. “Not yet anyways.”

“If I don’t go to camp I’ll come to the wedding.” He looks at Andy. “Just don’t dance with Caroline the entire time.” He smirks.

“I won’t.”

Andy rolls over to his other side, facing away from Brandon. He blinks a couple of tears away. How could he tell Brandon he liked him when Brandon was telling him he was just a friend? He didn’t want to do anything to ruin their friendship. He also knew he just wasn’t ready for kissing or things like that, so he wasn’t going to say anything until he knew he was really ready.

//

The next morning you wake up in Harry’s arms, like always, and give his cheek a kiss before sitting up to stretch.

“Sleep alright, baby?” He yawns.

“Mhm, did you?”

“Yup.” He smiles and you smile back at him. This weekend felt like an anniversary to him too. Your actual one was coming up soon.

You both get up and use the bathroom, and see that the boys are already up and ready to go. They seemed to be tired.

“You both sleep alright?” You ask as you start your journey back down the mountain.

“Mhm.” Brandon yawns. “Just tired, it’s early.”

“I’m so glad school’s over so we can just sleep in.” Andy says.

“I know the feeling.” You say. “Although, your dad makes it impossible sometimes.”

“Well excuse me for trying to stick to a routine.” Harry scoffs. “I do my best to stay quiet.”

“Mm, sure, Jan.” You say and it makes him laugh.

“Is that something Auntie Janette would say?” Andy asks.

“No, it’s from The Brady Bunch.” Harry says. “You know that old show, we’ve watched it a couple of times. Jan can’t stand her older sister Marsha, and Marsha always catches Jan in a lie. It’s pretty funny.”

“It’s, like, a catchphrase, right, Mr. Styles?” Brandon asks.

“Exactly.”

It’s a smooth trek down the mountain. You all take your time just as you did going up, and eventually you get back to the car. Harry drops Brandon off at his house, and Andy walks him up to his door.

“Well, thanks for another great trip.” Brandon say.

“Sure, I’m glad you came.”

“When do you go to your mom’s?”

“In a few days…”

“Okay, maybe we can hang out before you go?”

“Definitely.” The boys hug and then Brandon goes inside. Andy sighs heavily when he gets in the car. You and Harry look at each other before he drives off towards the house.

“Andy, when you come back later this summer the kitchen’s gonna have an all new look, are you excited?” You say, trying to break the tension.

“Yeah! You better send me pictures along the way.”

“We will.” Harry says. “We’ll need your expert input I’m sure.”

//

Doing demo in the kitchen was a liberating experience. Knocking out the old cabinets with Harry was more fun than you thought it would be. Then again, how could it not be a good time watch him use a sledgehammer?

“I say we’ve earned ourselves a couple of drinks.” He says as he gets a couple of beers out of the fridge. “I know beer’s not your favorite, but-“

“It’s fine.” You take it. “Let’s go sit outside, it’s all dusty in here.”

He agrees, and you both head out to the deck.

“I’m glad we rented that dumpster, clean up shouldn’t be too difficult.” Harry says as he cracks his beer open. “Especially with how much we already did.”

“I know! We got so much done today. I can’t wait to see what the new stain on the floor will look like.”

“I was talking to the floor guy about that, he said since he’s refinishing it as well we won’t be able to walk on it properly for a few days. I was thinking we could go up to the cabin while it’s getting done. We both can still work without a ton of fumes.”

“Good idea. I certainly wouldn’t mind the view of the lake for a few days.”

“Cabinets should be installed by the wedding.” He says as he takes a sip.

“You’re sure you’re okay to go? I don’t want to force you…”

“No, I know I need to be there. I wanna see Andy walk her down the aisle and all that. Besides, my suit is gorgeous, I can’t let it go to waste.” He scoffs and it makes you laugh.

“Just making sure.” You reach for his hand and give it a squeeze. “Ugh, I need a long, hot shower. I feel gross.”

“Same here. Feel like sharing?”

“No, I’m on my period.” You pout. “Just need a little alone time.”

“Fine.” He sighs. “Go do your thing.”

“Thanks, babe.” You get up and kiss the top of his head before going inside.

Harry knew you were going to take a shower by yourself, but he wanted to play it cool. He had ordered pizza and made sure to get your favorite wine, but had to hide it from you. He cleans himself off quickly in the other bathroom, and gets everything set up outside. He lights a few candles. Satisfied with his work, he waits for you.

“I’m all done, thanks for…” You walk outside in an oversized shirt and pajama pants. “What is all this?”

“Our anniversary dinner.” He smiles and wraps his arms around you. “It was a year ago today that you came here with this exact meal and we kissed for the for the first time.”

“Oh my goodness, Harry.” You kiss him and wrap your arms around his neck. “This is so sweet, I…I thought we were celebrating in a couple of days though, I-“

“That’s what I told you so I could surprise you. Normally I’d cook, but the kitchen isn’t functioning at the moment.”

“I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

You both kiss again, and you decide to sit on his lap as you ate and drank. You just really wanted to be as close as possible right now. He didn’t mind one bit, he liked when you’d cling to him a little more.

“The candles were a nice touch, very romantic, Har.” You sit back against his chest and he wraps his arms around your stomach.

“I’m glad you like it.”

“I love it! I’m not super into overdone surprises, so this is literally perfect.”

“You really do like keeping things simple, huh?”

“Mhm, I mean, the gesture is always appreciated, I just don’t like people making such a big fuss over me, you know?” Harry hums his response and moves some of your hair so he can kiss on the back of your neck.

“But you’re worth making a fuss over.” He mumbles as his lips move up your neck. “How heavy is your flow, baby?”

“Should be minimal since I just showered.” You bite your bottom lip. “Do you really feel like it?”

“Yeah, we can just put a towel down like we’ve done before.”

“Okay.” You smile as he nibbles on your earlobe.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You giggle and get off him. You bring the pizza and leftover wine inside before going into the bedroom.

Harry puts a couple of towels down while you go into the bathroom. You come out and quickly walk over to the bed to lay down. Harry rolls a condom on, and puts some extra lube on it so he doesn’t hurt you.

“All set?” He says to you as he knees onto the bed.

“Mhm.” You smile.

His lips slot over yours and his hands knead your breasts. He pushes inside you and you gasp into his mouth.

“Lube was a little cold.” You giggle.

“Sorry, baby, is it better now?” He asks as he rocks in and out of you.

“Yes.”

He squishes his nose to yours, and you wrap your legs around his waist. He comes closer so you’re chest to chest. You lick into his mouth and he groans against you. You feel tears start to form in your eyes and you start laughing.

“You haven’t even come yet, why are you crying?” He laughs as he uses his thumbs to wipe the small droplets away.

“I’m just really happy we’re together.”

“Me too, darling.” He kisses your forehead.

“I’m also hormonal.”

“Mhm, sure, blame it on that if you want.” He smirks and continues thrusting in and out of you.

“Fuck, that feels good.” Your nails rake down his back and he groans into your ear. Your nails dig into his ass as he fucks you harder. “Just like that, Harry, don’t stop.” You moan.

He bites down on your neck, and you whimper. It always felt so fucking good when he would do that, and with you not having to work and Andy being at Paige’s, Harry was free to litter you with marks. Well, within reason. He’d save the really nasty bruises for your inner thighs.

You cry out as you come undone, and Harry fills up the condom not too long after. You both get cleaned up and you grab the bottle of wine as you get settled for a movie in bed. You each take turns swigging from it. You were sitting in front of Harry, all cozy.

“I’ll need to work on my paper tomorrow.” You tell him. “Taking a couple of days off for demo was good to clear my head, but I need to get back at it.”

“That’s fine, I have some work I need to do for my manuscript. Are you planning to go to the CMT conference again this summer?”

“Can’t.” You take another swig from the bottle and look up at him. “It’s in California this year, and it’s right before the fall semester.”

“So?”

“So…that’s time I would need to prep for my classes. I’d be gone for about a week with the traveling.”

“Do you want to go?”

“Well…yeah, there’s going to be some really good speakers this year.”

“Then you should go.” He smiles. “I’d go too, but I need to be around for Andy once August hits.”

“You’d really be okay with me being gone an entire week across the country?”

“Baby, no one loves a lecture more than you, I don’t want you to not go because of me.” He kisses your hairline.

“I’d literally be getting back the day of our first faculty meeting. I looked into it already. I’d have to go from the airport to the school.”

“You’re always hours early for the faculty meeting…”

“Yeah, because I like getting my office in order.” You scoff. “Is there a reason you want me to go?”

“No.” He shrugs. “I just think it’s rare when we don’t have to cancel class to go to a conference, and the school will pay for you to go.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, you can apply for a scholarship, I can show you. Then it would just be the air fare which isn’t that expensive out there this time of year.”

“I suppose that’s true…if I can get the school to pay for it then I’ll definitely go.”

“Good.” He smiles.

//

A few days away at the cabin were just what the doctor ordered. It felt weird not having Andy around, but you honestly weren’t upset at having a break from parenting. You texted with him here and there, just to check in and let him know you were thinking of him, as did Harry. You really cherished the time you and Harry could just be you and Harry. He got you to go on a jet ski with him, and even though you screamed the entire time, it was still fun. It was the perfect getaway home, and when you got back to your actual home your new kitchen floors looked stunning. The cabinet people came in a couple of days later, and you made sure to send Andy all of the pictures. July was flying by.

“Okay, so, for your birthday, we’ll go to the cabin and bring the kids, and your parents and brothers will meet us up there for a couple of nights as well?” Harry says as he looks over his planner.

“Yes.” You chuckle.

“What?”

“You just look so serious. I feel like I’m having an appointment with you at your office.” You clear your throat. “You wanted to see me, Dr. Styles.” You pout at him and he swallows hard.

“That’s not funny.” He puts his pen down and takes his glasses off to look at you. “I could get in a big heap of trouble if a student came onto me like that.”

“Did it ever used to work on you when you were younger?”

“No.” He scoffs. “Although the girls, and some boys, would try, I have to give them credit. I’d get offers from them to babysit Andy just because they wanted to know how I lived and all that. It was more difficult when I was closer in age, now I don’t even give it a second glance. They know not to flirt with me anyways because my girlfriend would probably step in and pummel ‘em.” He grins at you.

“Got that right.” You smirk. “Although, you’re the jealous one, not me.”

“I would strangle any kid at that school if I saw them trying to make a move on you, no doubt about that.” You burst out laughing and put your hand over his to give it a squeeze.

“Okay, okay…are you ready for tomorrow?”

“Am I ready to see my son all dressed up? Yes. I hope he’s been behaving at the rehearsal dinner.” Harry looks at his watch. “Should be over soon.” He chews on his inner cheek. “Y/N…someday…when we, you know, get married…” A smile grows on your face. “I don’t think I’d want to invite them.”

“Wow, really? I’m…shocked…”

“At a petty level, I truthfully just don’t think she deserves to see me so happy, and I feel like she’s rubbing how happy she is in my face. She’s always been like, just, painfully oblivious.” He rests his chin on her palm. “I know it would hurt her, but I wouldn’t want her there.”

“Okay.” You get up and sit in his lap.

“Okay?”

“Yeah, I don’t need your ex at our wedding.” You laugh. “Maybe it’s different for her since she’s the one that called it quits. I know you’re over her, but I can understand how all this might still hurt.”

“It brings up a lot of things, yeah.” He looks up at you and smiles. “But I’m really happy with how everything worked out. I’m happy I’m with you.” He gives your shoulder a squeeze. “You-you’ve become like a second mum to Andy and…I feel like for so long I was just living my life on auto, just doing the same thing every day, but now…I have more of a purpose again.”

“Harry.” You coo and stroke his cheek. “You’ve changed my life for the better too.”

//

You were able to get your hair in a cute low bun, with some curls left out. You bought a light blue semi-formal dress to wear to pair with Harry’s suit. He was just getting his contacts in as you were slipping on your heels.

“Be honest, how do I look?” He says to you.

“Like I don’t wanna let you leave this house.” You bite your bottom lip.

“Excellent, just what I was going for.” He rubs his hands up and down your arms. “You look stunning, baby.”

“Thank you.”

“Ready to go meet her entire family and Noah’s?”

“Is everyone really going to fit in her backyard?”

“The ceremony is in the back yard, the reception is in a tent on the beach.”

“Oh…fancy.”

“Nothing but the best for her.” Harry rolls his eyes. “Got the gift?”

“In the car already.”

Harry nods and you both head out.

Andy looked handsome. His hair was perfect, and he essentially never looked more like his father. It was the tan he had from being out so much. He wouldn’t be able to see his friends before the ceremony since he needed to stay in close proximity with Paige. They were able to take all of the bridal party photos beforehand. Same with the groom’s party.

There were a ton of chairs set up, and people were finding their seats. You and Harry sit in the last row of seats on the bride’s side. He puts a pair of sunglasses on. The last thing he wanted to do was be recognized and exchange pleasantries with Paige’s extended family.

“I have some tissue in my purse if you need some.” You say to him. “I don’t know about you, but I always cry at weddings.”

“So do I, thanks.” He holds his hand out for the tissues and you give him a couple. He puts his arm around you and kisses your temple.

“Think there will be an open bar?”

“Oh, for sure.” He scoffs. “We’ll be drinking well tonight.”

“Hi, Mr. Styles.” Brandon and Tyler come up to you and Harry. “Can we sit with you? We don’t really know anyone else.”

“Sure!” Harry says.

“Yeah, plenty of room.” You say. “Where’s Caroline?”

“Why should I know?” Brandon says as he sits down next to you.

“Because you’re all friends, duh.” You say to him.

“She’s in the bathroom.” Tyler says. “She’ll be here in a second.”

Caroline eventually joins everyone, but she’s a little fidgety.

“What took you so long?” Brandon asks her.

“There was, um, a line.” She says.

More and more take their seats, and music starts up. Everyone looks forward as Rachel walks up with Noah and the rest of the groomsmen. She looked lovely. Noah gives her a hug and kiss before she gets in line with the rest of the party. A couple of Paige’s younger cousins act as the flower girls. Allie and Ned walk Lydia down the aisle, and then come the bridesmaids. Harry knew them all well. Friends from college, and friends from work. Some of their eyes widen when they notice Harry, but they keep walking. Everyone stands up when Paige’s bridal music starts. You get your phone ready to snap a few shots of Andy.

“Oh my god, look at him.” Harry whispers proudly. He lifts his sunglasses to see him better. Andy waves to his father.

Paige and Harry briefly make eye contact. They nod at each other as Andy continues to walk her down the aisle.

“He’s a spitting image.” You whisper to Harry, and he smiles at you.

The ceremony is quick, there’s some Hebrew from a rabbi, and Noah steps on the glass. Everyone’s told where to go for cocktail hour, and they start making their way.

“Dad!” Andy shouts to get his attention. “Mum wants a family picture.”

“What?!”

“Yeah, like, with all of us, come on.” He tugs on Harry’s jacket sleeve, and Harry looks back at you panicked. You follow them to the spot where the photos are being taken.

“Hey you two!” Paige beams. “Of course your suit is amazing, shouldn’t have doubted it for a second.” She says to Harry. “And you look lovely, Y/N.”

“Um, thank you. Congratulations.” You say to her.

“Thank you.” She giggles. “I’m a missus!  Can’t believe it. Anyways, I thought it would be nice if we took a blended family photo.” Harry just nods and follows her. “Okay, so I was thinking I could stand in the middle, Rachel on one side, and Andy on the other, like, in front, and then Noah on one side and you on the other, and Y/N next to you.”

“Wait, you want me in the photo?” You ask.

“Of course! You’re family now, have been for a while.”

Harry snakes his arm around your waist and pulls you close to him, and uses his other hand to put on Andy’s shoulder. They take a few photos like that as everyone else stands to the side watching.

“Okay, well, we’re going to the cocktail hour, thanks for including us in your very special day.” Harry says with just an ounce of sarcasm and an ironic grin, and tugs you along.

“Alright, I can see what you mean now, painfully oblivious.”

“Jesus, thank you! Was that awkward or was that awkward?”

“Nope, very awkward. Come on, let’s go drink.”

The tent on the beach was exquisite. There was an open bar, a DJ, and waiters walking around with appetizers. You and harry go right up to the bar for cocktails before finding what table you’ve been put at.

“Harry!” A woman squeals and lunges onto him, making him almost spill his drink. “God, it’s been years!”

“Sarah!” Harry hugs her back. “I know, how are you?”

“I’m doing well.” She steps back from him. “You haven’t aged a day.”

“My hair would beg to differ.” He runs a hand through it.

“Oh, please, you look distinguished.” She smiles and looks at you. “And who’s this?”

“Oh! Sorry, um, Sarah this is my girlfriend, Y/N. Y/N, Sarah and I went to uni together with Paige.”

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you.” You shake her hand.  

“Same to you. My hubby, Joe, is just getting us some drinks. Seems like we’ve been put at the same table. I wonder if we all were.”

“All?” Harry asks.

“Sure! Jane and her wife are her, and so is Greg, he came stag…” She leans into Harry. “Divorced recently.” She whispers. “Oh! And Lauren’s here too. Basically the reject list for the wedding party.” She laughs.

Harry didn’t think Paige was still this close with all of their old college buddies. It would be like a mini-reunion, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. He almost wished he was put at the kids table with Andy and his friends.

“I’m shocked to see you here, I mean I’m happy to see you and all, but-“

“Well, as you saw, our son walked her down the aisle and she really didn’t want me to miss it, so here I am.”

Slowly everyone else makes their way over to the table. Harry introduces you to everyone. The last one to make their way is Lauren.

“Harry Styles.” She smiles and he turns to look at her.

“Hey.” He smiles back and hugs her. “Um, this is my girlfriend, Y/N.” He hooks his arm around your waist and pulls you close to his side as you shake your hand.

“You’re a very lucky woman, Y/N. Harry’s the best.” She says.

“Yeah, he is.” You say.

You all take your seats as the wedding party makes their way into the tent. Harry keeps his hand on your thigh the entire time. Harry could see on Paige’s face that she was desperately trying to keep it together. She missed her father. Everyone stands up and crowds around the dancefloor as Noah takes Rachel’s hand for a father-daughter dance.

“She is too cute.” You say to Harry.

“I know it, absolutely precious.” He agrees and takes a sip of his drink.

Next up is a mother-son dance for Andy and Paige. You watch as the smile grows on Harry’s face. He was proud of Andy for being such a good sport, and he could see that Andy was having fun. You take your phone out to take a video of the dance so Andy could see it later. Noah has a dance with his mother, and then Paige has a dance with Lydia.

“I’m shocked.” Harry says to you. “Lydia’s so traditional.”

“I’m glad to see her doing something nice for Paige.”

Once all of that is out of the way, everyone takes their seats again for the first course. Just a Caesar salad and some bread. You listen as Harry and his friends reminisce. You wonder, briefly, what his deal with Lauren is. She seemed to be the most sentimental. She was sitting next to you and you could feel her eyes burning into you.

“So, how long have you and Harry been together for?” She asks you.

“A year.” You smile. “But we were friends a year prior to us getting together.”

“Oh, do you work with him at the university?”

“Yes, we met because I ended up being his office neighbor. I guess that’s why we became such good friends too.”

“You know what solidified us being friends?” He leans over you, joining the conversation. “That first game night you came to. We were playing charades remember?”

“How could I forget?” You smile and kiss his cheek. He goes back to the other conversation he was having with his friend Greg. “How did you and Harry meet?” You ask Lauren.

“At a party.” She shrugs. “I was a year ahead of him, same with Paige. I think Greggy brought him out, they were roommates their sophomore year. He fit right in with our group. He immediately had a crush on Paige, everyone could see it.” She laughs and your mouth forms into a straight line. “Don’t worry, all of that was a long time ago.”

“Yeah.” You finish your drink and tap Harry’s shoulder. “I’m going to get another one.”

“Do you want me to get it?”

“No, I need to stretch my legs.” You stand up and walk towards the bar. Harry looks at Lauren.

“What?” She asks him.

“Did you say something to her?”

“About what?” He gives her an obvious look. “No, why would I mention that?”

“Because you’re you.” He smirks.

“All I said was that it was obvious that you had a crush on Paige from the first time Greg brought you out, nothing about you and I.”

“Maybe don’t mention how much I used to like my ex?”

“She asked me how you and I met, it was just part of the story. Lighten up, H.”

“Here, I got you another one too.” You say as you sit back down.

“Thanks, babe.”

The main course is served, and toasts start being made. Allie gives a small toast, but tears up. Noah’s best man lightens the mood with some funny jokes. Andy and Rachel even give a toast, a poem they worked on together. Harry had to dab his eyes with your tissues to wipe a few tears away.

“I’m just so proud of him. He looks so grown up.” He pouts at you.

“I know.” You smile. “It’s okay.”

Noah and Paige thank everyone for coming, and then most people make their way to the dancefloor. Andy comes racing overo to your table and throws his arms around Harry.

“How was it?” He asks.

“You did amazing, buddy.”

“Y/N, will you come dance?”

“Sure, let me just kick these heels off.” You giggle and get up. Andy takes your hand and leads you to the dancefloor.

Harry watches as you twirl Andy around and just be silly with him. It warmed his heart.

“I’m gonna go join them.” He takes his suit jacket off. “Hope you all will dance too.”

“Need about three more drinks.” Sarah says. “But feel free to warm it up for us out there.”

Harry laughs and heads over to you. His dance moves make Andy laugh hysterically. The wedding photographer comes over and takes a picture of the three of you. After a few songs, Andy says he’s gonna go dance with his friends, and enjoy some cake.

“Are you having a good time?” Harry asks as you both make your way to the bar again.

“Mhm, are you?”

“It’s not too bad. I’m really glad you’re here.” He gives your hand a squeeze. “This’ll probably be my last one, I don’t wanna get so fucked up that I can’t drive us home.”

“I can cool it if you wanna keep drinking.”

“No, it’s okay. I also don’t want Andy seeing me sloshed, you know?”

“Oh, true. Let’s nurse these ones then, yeah?”

“Harry!” Paige comes over to you both. “Would you come take another picture with all our college friends?”

“Um, sure.” Harry hands you his drink and you follow to where the photo is being taken. He stands as far away from Paige as he can, and flashes that toothy smile of his.

“Not that I don’t love Noah, but seeing Harry tonight…makes me sad that Paige couldn’t work it out with him.” You overhear a woman say to another. You try not to make it obvious that you’re listening.

“I know! How could you not make it work with a man like that? Must be his personality, good dick can only make you happy for so long.”

Your mouth falls open in shock. You turn to the women and grimace. Before you have a chance to say anything Harry’s coming back over to you, snatching his drink and tugging you back to the dancefloor. You shake what you heard from your head as you look at him. Harry had a wonderful personality, and if those bitched were too dumb to see that, then fuck them. It was fun to dance with Harry like this, just goofy and without a care.

Andy was having a good time dancing as a group with his friends. A slow song comes on to give everyone a break from the fast paced music. He looks over and sees you and Harry coming together for a dance and he smiles.

“Now this is my favorite kind of dancing.” Harry says into your ear.

“Really? So when we went to that club up north and I backed my thang up against you...?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“Okay, this is my second favorite kind of dancing.” You both giggle. “That was a great night, I have to say.”

“Mhm.” You smile and kiss him quickly before resting your head on his shoulder as he leads you.

“Andy, wanna dance?” Caroline asks him shyly.

“Yeah.” He smiles and puts his hands on her waist.

“You look really handsome.”

“Thanks.” He blushes. “I like your dress. You know you always look pretty.”

She smiles at him.

“I’m glad we’re still good friends.” She says as they sway back and forth.

“Me too.”

“During the next slow song you should ask Brandon to dance.”

“What?”

“It’s like you’re always saying, rip the band aid.” She grins at him.

“Caroline, I…”

“Look, I’m not trying to assume anything, but if I had to guess who it was you liked I’d say it’s him, and I think he likes you too, but you both are just being stupid by not going for it.”

“You really think he likes me back?” It was the first time he had admitted his feels to a friend.

“I think so, I think he’s just nervous.” She shrugs.

“This whole thing has been really confusing. You were the first girl I ever really liked, and I like him too, so…”

“My oldest sister deals with the same thing.”

“She does?!”

“Yeah! She came out to us earlier this year, she said she’s bi.”

“And your parents were cool with it?”

“Sure, they were just happy she felt comfortable enough to say how she was feeling.”

“Wow.”

“See? It’s way more common than you think.” The song ends and they let go of each other. “And, just for the record, you were the first boy I ever really liked too, and I’m happy I get to say Andy Styles was my first boyfriend.” She kisses his cheek and he smiles. “I have to use the ladies room, I’ll be back.”

“What was that about?” Brandon asks Andy as he and Tyler step closer.

“Nothing.” He shrugs.

“Are you back together?”

“No, she just kissed my cheek, uh, thanking me for the dance. It’s no big deal, B.”

Brandon nods and they all start dancing again. You and Harry sit for a bit to rest your feet, and to munch on some bread. You notice that Lauren and Greg have been pretty chatty.

“Think anything’s going to happen between those two?” You nod over to them.

“Wouldn’t put it past her.” Harry scoffs. “I bet she was hoping I wouldn’t be here with someone.” Alright, so he was a little drunk, and that statement just slipped.

“Why’s that?”

“Hm? Oh, I don’t know.” He shakes his head and you narrow your eyes at him. “What?”

“Harry if you used to hook up with her you can just say so, it was, like, fifteen years ago…”

“You make me sound so old.” He pouts. “Alright, yeah, we used to hook up, but it wasn’t serious, and we kept it quiet, not wanting to disrupt our circle of friends. She’s just one of those people that you think is really sweet and wholesome, and then she’s not. I didn’t like it.” He stands back up and puts his hand out to you. “Come on, let’s go dance some more.”

“Okay.” You take his hand and go back out to the dancefloor. Another slow starts and you happily wrap your arms around Harry’s neck. “I take back what I said earlier, this really is the best kind of dancing.”

He smiles at you and then leans in for a kiss. Your lips press together and then you both sigh as you dance. Andy takes a deep breath and goes over to Brandon who was sitting down, drinking some water. Tyler and Caroline had been picked up to go home already. Brandon’s parents wouldn’t be there to pick him up until a little later.

“Hey.” Andy says to him.

“Hey, my parents are on their way.”

“Oh…so you don’t wanna dance?” He rubs the back of his neck.

“To this song?” Brandon stands up and puts his hands in his pockets. “A little slow, don’t you think?”

“I’m okay with the tempo.”

“There’s a lot of people around…”

“We could go outside, I’m gonna walk you out anyways.”

“Okay.”

Andy and Brandon go outside the tent. There were a few people out there having smoke breaks and just a breather from dancing. They go to the side where things are a little more secluded.

“How…how should we do this?” Andy asks.

“We could just hug and sway back and forth.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.” The boys hug and start swaying back and forth. Andy’s heart was racing like never before. “I’m really glad you didn’t go to camp this summer.” Andy says and they stop to look at each other.

“You are?”

“Yeah.” He smiles at his friend.

Brandon daintily cups one of Andy’s cheeks, and Andy closes his eyes. Just as Brandon leans in his phone goes off. He sighs and presses his forehead to Andy’s for a moment before getting his phone out of his pocket and letting Andy go.

“Hello?” He says obviously annoyed. “Yeah, I’m ready, are you here? Okay…I’m down at the tent, I’ll wait outside for you.” He hangs up. “My dad’s, uh, gonna come get me out here, so…”

“Right.” Andy nods. “How long do you think he’ll be?”

“He said five minutes.”

“Alright, well, I’ll wait out here with you.”

“Thanks.” The boys walk close to the entrance of the tent to wait for Brandon’s dad.

“Brandon?”

“Yeah?”

“Were you going to kiss me?”

“Yeah, I was.” Andy’s face flushes as he looks at his friend. “Got sort of interrupted.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Maybe another time, though?”

Andy smiles at him and nods yes. Mr. Stewart comes to the tent and the boys say goodbye. Andy goes back inside and heads to the dancefloor with you and Harry.

“There you are!” You exclaim. “They’re gonna do the cha cha slide.”

“Great!” The song starts and Harry watches a ton of you follow along with the steps of the song. “Come on, Dad!”

“Fine!” Harry jumps in and follows along as well.

It ended up being a great night despite some of the awkwardness. You get your shoes on, but they sting. You contemplate just walking out barefoot, but you could easily step on broken glass outside, so you decide against it.

“All set?” Harry says to you. “Just confirmed with Paige. The kids will get dropped off in a couple of days, and then we’re headed to the cabin.”

“Perfect. It’s gonna be a great week away.”

You both say goodnight to Andy, who was about ready to pass out from all the dancing he did. Him and Rachel head up to the house.

“So, how were things with Brandon?” She asks him.

“Good…we danced together outside the tent.”

“Oh, how was that?!” She squeals.

“Shh, do you want the neighbors to hear? It was fine.” He smiles. “Just fine.”

Harry gets the two of you home, and you give him a devious grin as you get inside. He raises his eyebrows at you as if to ask if you’re not too tired, but you wink and start walking towards the bedroom.

“Feeling a little frisky, eh?” He asks as he takes his suit jacket off.

“Mhm, you looked so sexy tonight, and watching you dance really did it for me.”

“Oh, yeah?” He pulls you close to him.

“Yeah.”

You press your lips to his, and swipe your tongue along his bottom lip. He opens up for you and your tongue molds to his. He reaches behind you to unzip your dress, and it falls to the floor, pooling at your feet. Your hands work to unbutton his dress-shirt, and you push it off his shoulders. Next you get his pants undone and he leads you over to the bed. He shimmies out of his trousers and gets on the bed with you. You get between his legs and tug his boxers down. You kiss his tip and he hisses from the sensation. You lick up and down his shaft before wrapping your lips around him. You bob up and down slowly and look up at him.

“That’s so good, baby.” You raise your eyebrows at him while your tongue runs over his slit. “You’re a good girl, Y/N.”

Your eyes flutter closed, and you continue to suck on him how he likes, drool dripping down your chin. You don’t suck on him for too much longer since you want him to fuck you. You crawl up his body and grind your covered center over him. He unhooks your bra and kisses on your chest. He rolls ones of your nipples between his teeth and your head falls back.

“I need to get these off.” You grunt and get your panties off. You grab his length and line it up with yourself. “Okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll just pull out.”

You nod and sink down him. Your mouth falls open as he stretches every inch of you. You grip his shoulders and move yourself up and down.

“You got this wet just from sucking on me?” He grunts as he grips your hips to help move you back and forth.

“Can’t help it when I’m doing that and you call me a good girl, Harry.” You peck his lips. “It’s so hot.” You move to suck on his neck, and he presses you as close to him as possible.

You move in sync with each other, and you grind against him in the perfect way. You start breathing heavier as you feel yourself getting closer. You breathlessly tell him to keep going. You tighten around him as you come undone around his hard dick.

“Shit, fuck, Y/N!”

“Oof!”

He had to toss you off of him so he wouldn’t come inside you, leaving quite the mess on his lower stomach and thighs.

“Sorry, are you alright?”

“Yeah.” You giggle and prop yourself up on your elbows. “Are you? Normally you can hold it a little longer.”

“Not when you tighten up like that, Jesus…” He sighs and looks down at himself.

“I’ll go get a rag.” You get off the bed and go into the bathroom to grab a washcloth and run it under some warm water.

You come back and clean him up. He smiles up at you and you lean down to kiss him.

“We need to be more careful.” He says as you get into bed with him. “Just suck it up and use the condom, you know?”

“I know.” You sigh. “It just feels so good.” You pout at him.

“I know, darling, but you said you didn’t want to get pregnant until you have your doctorate. I’d feel terrible if it happened, and you got really stressed out…”

“Harry, if it happens it happens. It would be stressful, but plenty of women do it all the time. Now’s not the most ideal time, but I can’t tell you how excited I get when I think of carrying your baby sometimes.” You bite your bottom lip as you look at him.

“Don’t even fucking tempt me, Y/N, you know I’d put one in you now if you really wanted it.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” You kiss him quickly before turning over. “Soon, I promise.”

//

A week with Andy and Rachel at the cabin was interesting to say the least. Watching their dynamic was fascinating. They really did act like brother and sister. They’d bicker one minute and be laughing the next. He showed her how to use the jet skis, and they built sand castles together. Your family came up, and it made it ten times more fun for your birthday. Your parents even stay in to watch the kids so you, Harry, Phil, and Julian can all go out to a bar to celebrate. You couldn’t believe you were already twenty-eight. It was hard to feel old, though, when you could still have such a great time dancing and drinking. The day of your actual birthday you all enjoy some cake, and a few gifts.

Andy was back home with you and Harry now that it was just about the middle of August. It was nice having him home, it was too quiet without him, even if you did enjoy the alone time with Harry. Andy loved all of the changes that were made to the house. He had kept what happened with Brandon, or what almost happened with Brandon, to himself. He just wanted to keep that moment for himself. The Ariana Grande concert wouldn’t be until November, but Andy was already talking to you about outfit choices for the meet and greet.

“I just got back, and you’re leaving for a week?” Andy asks you at dinner when you tell him about your trip to California.

“Yeah, I have a conference to go to, I’ll be back before you know it.” You smile. “You’re gonna have some nice quality time with Dad.”

“Yeah, we’re gonna have a lot of fun.”

“Mhm, I can’t wait to go back to school shopping with you and Mum.” Andy rolls his eyes.

“That’s a day that should be way more fun that it is, and we’re not doing that until after Y/N gets back. We’ll have another pot painting day.” Harry takes a bite of his dinner. “I was thinking we could go to the pottery paint place, though. Have a little father-son date.”

“Ew, don’t call it a date, Dad.”

You burst out laughing. You’d miss your boys over the next week.

//

“Dad, can we do the pottery thing another time, Brandon invited me to go to the skate park tomorrow.” Andy says to Harry the night before they’re supposed to go to the pottery place.

“Oh, well, you can go skateboarding with him any time, can’t you? Or even afterwards?”

“Why can’t we just go paint another day?”

“I was sort of looking forward to spending the time with you.” Harry frowns. “We haven’t done much just the two of us in a while.”

“That’s because you spend all your free time with Y/N.” Andy smirks and sits down on the couch with Harry.

“Not true, we do stuff as the three of us. I feel like you like spending time with her more than me.”

“That’s not true! I guess I can go skateboarding with B another day.”

“I don’t wanna go tomorrow if it’s gonna be a force for you.”

“It won’t be. It’ll be fun.” He looks at Harry. “She’s only been gone two days, you know?”

“I’m aware.”

“So, she’ll be back in another three. It’ll go by quick.”

“I just feel bad that she has to go right from the airport to our faculty meeting.” He sighs. “But I suppose it’s all going to work out perfectly.”

“Yeah, she’s gonna be really surprised.”

//

Spending a week in California was amazing. You felt like your old independent self. It was nice to explore in the evenings, and you got a lot out of the sessions you attended. You had a ton of new ideas for your classes and for your paper. You spoke to Harry when you could. The three hour time difference was much more manageable than the six hour one like when he was in London.

You were happy with the tan you managed to get out there, and did your best to sleep on the plane home so you weren’t totally exhausted. You take the bus back to town, and load your things up in your car and drive over to the university. You managed to freshen up at the airport, and you texted Harry updates so he knew when to expect you. What you refrained from telling him was that you were going to stop by your office quickly just to open it up and let it get some fresh air from the window. You also needed to grab your spare laptop charger.

There was something you liked about the quiet before the semester started. It was like the calm before an incredible storm. You were feeling extremely prepared for this semester. It would be your third year teaching at the university, and you were feeling really good about it. You key into your office and set something down.

“Well, if it isn’t my not so new neighbor.”

“Jesus!” You nearly jump out of your shoes. Even though you knew Harry’s voice well, he still found ways to scare the shit out of you. You sigh and turn around. “And to think I was…excited…to…see…you…” Your eyes widen when you see him down on one knee with a small velvet box in one hand, and a shit eating grin on his face. “How…how did you know I’d come here first?” Your eyes start to water.

“Because I know you very well, come here.” You step towards him and take his free hand in yours. You were shaking. “Are you gonna be okay?” You nod your head yes. “Good, because we don’t have a ton of time before our meeting.” You chuckle slightly at that. “Still excited to see me?”

“Yes.” You whisper.

“Do you know what’s in this little box?”

“I have an idea.”

“I truthfully never thought I’d be buying another one of these for someone. I…I didn’t think I deserved to have someone love me the way that you do, but I know now that I do. Sometimes I’d wonder why things didn’t work out the way I thought were supposed to, but I realized that everything I went through was just part of my journey to you, Y/N.” You cough out a nervous giggle as you had tears running down your cheeks. “I was trying to think of the perfect moment or place for this, and nothing felt better than the place we first met and became friends. Plus, I knew you’d nearly shit yourself.” He smirks and you shake your head. “So, with all that being said, and may I remind you I don’t care about how long we’re engaged for because I know your doctorate comes first…will you marry me?” He opens the small box and you gasp at the ring. It was stunning, beyond stunning.

“Yes, oh my god, yes!” Your hand was shaking terribly, but he manages to slip the ring on.

He stands up and swings you around in his arms. He slots his mouth over yours, and you almost forget where you are until you hear a bottle pop.

“Woo! Congratulations!” Janette says with a freshly opened bottle of champagne. Lisa, Mateo, Lucas, Andre, and Sandra all come out as well. “You should have seen your face, Y/N.” She chuckles.

“You guys!” You laugh and go to hug your colleagues. “You all knew?”

“All Harry said was that we should wait upstairs and to bring champagne, we just assumed.” Lisa says as she holds out some cups for Janette to pour the champagne in.

“Where’s Andy?” You ask him as you take a sip.

“At Brandon’s.”

“Did he know?”

“What are you, new? Who do you think helped me design the ring?” He smirks and nudge his shoulder. “We’ll celebrate with him tonight when we get back from dinner, there’s an ice cream cake in the freezer just waiting to be eaten.”

You all chat about the excitement before you need to actually go through the things you needed to in your faculty meeting. It was hard to concentrate, though. You wanted to call your parents, your brother, your friends; everyone! Not to mention the ring itself was distracting. You weren’t expecting something quite so…large. Then again, Harry was the gaudy ring type, so it shouldn’t be that surprising that he went all out.

“You two should go home to be with Andy to celebrate.” Lisa says. “We can all go down to the pub another time.”

“No, it’s alright, he’ll probably be annoyed if we pick him up too early from his friend’s.” Harry says.

“I actually wouldn’t mind going home...had a six hour flight earlier, you know?”

“Shit, you’re right. No one minds waiting a few days?”

“Not at all.” Janette says. “Let’s just all meet up Friday, it’ll be more fun.”

You drive separately back to the house, and Harry helps you get your things inside. You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him. You suck on his bottom lip and he moans into you.

“This is why you wanted to come back, huh?” He smirks.

“You’re not the only one that’s good at being sneaky.”

You couldn’t feel luckier than you do now, to be engaged to the absolute love of your life.  

[jlsadphoenix]

a map and a shovel (to my achilles’ heel)

The evolution of Emma and Killian’s thoughts for each other, told through the early events of their lives together. | 2/2 | AO3

KILLIAN

EMMA

because how the hell had this man managed to see right past her walls in the few hours he spent in her company, when people who’ve known her months, years, had trouble doing the same?

for as long as she’s known him, even with his flowery language and pirate regalia and cluelessness to modern conveniences, he’s always felt the realest person around

Tagging: @teamhook @lillpon @ownedbycaptainswan @inwordsthatnobodyknows1121

1.

“Hey,” Emma starts, noticing a hand reaching out from a pile of bodies. “Hey, there’s someone under there!”

The man they pull out is thanking them, but there are alarms going off in her head. Something’s wrong, this doesn’t make sense. Their eyes meet, his eyes are fearful, yes, grateful as well, but just a bit calculating, too, and her instincts say there’s something more to him.

He sits at the table looking exhausted as Emma asks Mulan (shit, how was this her life, fucking Mulan) more. The story Mulan tells her about the man seems perfectly plausible, but, “Why would Cora leave a survivor?” It’s too messy for someone like Cora. So she offers him some water.

He starts to explain how he hid under the bodies to survive, but there’s something wrong. He’s — not lying, not completely, but Emma’d be damned if he’s telling the full truth. So she leans her elbows down on the table, bringing her head level to his, I’m pretty good at knowing when someone is lying to me, she keeps her voice even, calm, face sympathetic, until —

“I’m telling you the truth,”

Her lie detector goes off.

Got you.

He’s good, she has to admit as she plasters on a sympathetic smile for him, but not good enough. I can guide you —

Ha, not a chance.

So Emma grabs him by the hair, pulls out her knife, and puts it to his throat.

“You’re not gonna guide us anywhere until you tell us who you really are,” she really can’t help the bit of pride that swells up at the flash of surprise in the man’s eyes.

2.

Just looking up at the beanstalk seems daunting. They had to climb that thing?

Whatever story you think you know, my dear, is most certainly wrong, has her scrounging her memory for what she remembered of Jack and the Beanstalk. Something with a cow, she remembered, and — was it a goose or a harp? Ah, she’s getting distracted, and Hook’s amused look and drawling voice really isn’t helping. Very bad form, he finishes his story.

“The treasure remains, and amongst it is the compass,” he says, focusing on her again, and really, why is he always speaking like she’s the only one in this group? “Once we get it, steal the ashes from her, then we’re on our way,” he finishes jovially.

“How do we know you’re not just using us to get the compass for Cora?” Mulan asks suspiciously, and really, Emma could become good friends with her, the way they easily agree.

Hook answers seriously, ‘cause you four are far safer company, clear of any deception. Good enough for now, she supposes, and suggests they start climbing. They’re wasting time sharing stories here.

Then Hook laughs a bit, says only he and one other can climb, and he is seriously getting on her last nerve, don’t be afraid to, y’know, really get into it, he grins, bouncing on his feet, looking completely delighted by this, and why did Captain Hook have to be gorgeous and not all perms and wax mustaches?

They move away from Hook, and she tilts her head back to peer up the beanstalk as the others argue. Damn, she can’t even see the top. How long would that take to climb? She absently hears them arguing over wars or something or another, and out of corner of her eye, she can see Hook trying to hide his impatience despite his earlier words.

The fact that she can relate to that irritation has her interrupting the others, because HenryHenryHenry; who cares about number of wars or who has more to lose when Henry is waiting for her? But she can’t trust Hook either, so she tells Mulan to cut the beanstalk down in ten hours if she’s not back down, makes her promise to bring Mary Margaret home.

Hook smiles cheekily at her, I was hoping it would be you, and she rolls her eyes as he puts the cuff around her wrist.

“I can’t climb one-handed, can I?” He protests, and begrudgingly, she gives him the hook, but, “Don’t think I’m taking my eyes off you for a second,” she warns.

He simply smiles, I would despair if you did, and up they climb.

3.

He’s talking.

She’ll ignore him, she will ignore him, she will ignore him, she will — “I’m concentrating,” Emma finally snaps.

“No, you’re afraid,” he says, and what? The hell does she have to be afraid about? “Afraid to talk, to reveal yourself,” he slows his climb to let her catch up to his side. “To trust me.”

Trust? Really? From him, of all people? “You should be used to people not trusting you,”

Hook only rolls his eyes, ah, the pirate thing, as if it was just some afterthought. You’re something of an open book, he tells her then, and Emma can’t help but pause, can’t help the faint amusement and curiosity, because she’s been called many things in life, but open book was definitely not one of them.

“Let’s see,” he starts, voice deceptively mild, “you volunteered to come up here because you were the most motivated, you need to get back to a child,” and Emma nearly scoffs, because he’s an eavesdropper, big surprise.

“Ah, but you don’t want to abandon him the way you were abandoned,” and still, his voice is casual, as though they were just talking about the weather, but Emma stills, because how could he know —

He looks away from her briefly as he explains something about Neverland, and Lost Boys, but she’s still scrambling to cover up whatever hell hole in her walls he managed to see past. The look you get when you’ve been left alone, but she didn’t come from Neverland, she’s not from some fairytale world despite what Henry says, she was just —

“But an orphan’s an orphan,” he continues. There’s something in his voice, but she won’t focus on it before this gets into more dangerous territory, but he doesn’t seem to notice, pushing on, love has been all too rare in your life, hasn’t it, and, have you ever even been in love, and no —

— nope no no no, absolutely not, she will not go there, will not think of her stolen bug, of stolen convenience store food, of a stolen keychain, of stolen moments in stolen motel rooms, of stolen watches, of a stolen future in a cold, empty jail cell with a positive pregnancy test, of two stolen years in —

No, she answers him, because how the hell had this man managed to see right past her walls in the few hours he spent in her company, when people who’ve known her months, years, had trouble doing the same? So she pushes ahead of the climb, resolutely ignoring his too perceptive gaze burning into her, focusing on the climb to run away from the memories that were threatening to resurface.

4.

She starts to turn away from the giant, to head back to the beanstalk, compass in hand, but then, try something new, darling, is ringing in her ears, and she hesitates, glancing back at the pile of rocks Hook is trapped under.

She can’t trust him, she can’t, she tries to convince herself as she asks the giant to keep Hook trapped but unharmed for ten hours. Every instinct she has tells her that he can be trusted, that he hasn’t once lied to her. Every instinct says that she can take a chance on him, that they could be allies, friends, maybe —

No.

No, no, he’ll turn on her the first chance he gets, she tries to think rationally. But he’s grinning at her, pure exhilaration on his face, and he calls her brilliant and amazing, without any lie or underlying motive, and he stares down at the compass in awe, and she can’t help but think of how human he looks when he’s like this, so far removed from any fairytale or cocky pirate captain persona or the man who would go to any lengths for his lost love.

Hook reaches for the compass and doesn’t even look all that bothered when she pulls away, simply smiling and offering up his hand, eyes bright, face open, and come, let’s go, and she takes his hand but she can’t.

If she’s wrong about him, she could lose Henry, could lose her way to Storybrooke, he could leave her cold and empty and lost in some dead realm, reminiscent of a cold and empty jail cell, lost for two years in Tallahassee.

She stares back at his bright and open face, watches as he gives her a tiny, encouraging nod.

She has no reason to be wrong about him.

She closes the shackles around his wrist.

His face goes slack with the shock, and it has her up and scrambling back out of his reach.

What are you doing, the way his voice trembles in his attempt to stay calm only serves to make her feel worse, eyes falling away from him. Her voice fails her as she tries to explain, explain that — that he — that she can’t—

“Emma, look at me,” he pleads, “have I told you a lie?”

He hasn’t. Not since she called him out on the blacksmith act, since she put a knife to his throat, since she tied him to a tree, and left him to ogres until she heard him call out to her, good for you, irritated and a little sulky and just a bit of grudging respect.

He didn’t lie when he smiled down at her, I was hoping it would be you, didn’t lie when he called her an open book, when he bandaged her hand with his scarf with a no, it’s not, or when she pressed him about the name on his wrist, despite the way he had shut down fast, faster than anything else she had seen from him yet.

His voice is still calm as he tries to reason with her, why do this to me now, gaze steady, as though it can still be easily brushed aside if she just lets him go, but —

“I can’t take the chance that I’m wrong about you,” because despite what her instincts say, she refuses to take that step (refuses to try something new), and “I’m sorry,” because she is. But he turned so quick on Cora, he could do just the same to them, turn back to Cora with the compass, and —

“You’re sorry? You’re sorry?” Hook pulls against the chain as he tries to move closer, voice furious. She’s shutting down, and fast. She can’t let him change her mind, she can’t take that chance, the chance she’s wrong, the chance of him betraying her, the chance of losing her way to Henry, the chance on him.

“And you’re not gonna die,” she refutes him, “I just need a head start, that’s all.”

And she’s turning away from him, walking back to the beanstalk, and he’s calling out to her, furious and desperate (betrayed, abandoned) but she won’t, she can’t look back, because —

She shuts her eyes against his shouts.

She leaves him behind.

(Because, despite her rationalizing, the more her instincts say he can be trusted, the more she wants to take that chance, to listen to her gut, to — to —

The more it terrified her. The more she needs to distance herself. What better way than to leave him in chains in some cold, empty room with a giant?)

5.

The compass disappears from her hand, and appears in Cora’s as she stares gleefully at it.

No.

No, what — ?

Emma pushes uselessly at the cell gates as Cora thanks Aurora for her help.

Thanks Auro—?

What?

She turns on her, furious, how would you do this, but she registers belatedly that Aurora looks as bewildered as them, and Cora’s crooning voice only confirms this as she pulls out a red, pulsing, beating heart. “You took her heart?” She stares, horrified. This — this is what it means when Regina — when Graham — when —

“Actually, I did,” Hook corrected her, voice low. Emma turns to him then, having tried and failed to ignore him leaning casually against the wall, staring fixatedly down at his hook, “it was a gift.” He finally turns to face them. He doesn’t say anything more, face completely closed off in a way she hasn’t seen on him aside from when she had asked about Milah, doesn’t flinch as Cora clenches her fist, Aurora crumpling in pain, doesn’t move until Cora passes him, pushing off the wall to follow.

“Hook,” she tried, desperate. She can’t lose the compass, lose Henry. “Wait,”

He pauses.

She breathed shakily, a desperate, irrational swell of hope as he turns to face her. “Please don’t do this, my son is in Storybrooke, he needs me.”

He moved towards her then, slow, measured steps, and just from the look on his face she knows she fucked up. “Perhaps you should have considered that before you abandoned me on that beanstalk,” his tone low and dangerous.

She shakes her head because that — it’s not — because — you would’ve done the same, and she keeps her grip against the bars, keeps her voice cool and knowing.

“Actually no.”

It’s said flatly, just plain fact.

That — that can’t be right.

She left him behind before he could do it to her, before he could do what he’s doing now, except—

He’s pulling out a bean on some sort of necklace, and she reaches desperately for it, unsuccessful, and this is a symbol, dangling the bean just in front of her, “something that was once magical, and full of hope, possibility... Now look at it,” once again his voice is deceptive, mild and unassuming, and she follows his gaze. “Dried up, dead. Useless. Much like you,”

He’s walking away, Emma realizes with increasing panic. Is this how he felt?

Just as I’m done with you, is this revenge for the way she left him chained up on the beanstalk, helpless but to watch her retreating back? Fitting, she thinks dimly to herself, watching him walk away.

He did betray her, just as she thought (because she did it first), and she thinks of her way back to Henry, fading with each step Hook takes away from them, thinks dimly of trying to call out to him (just as he did to her), thinks dimly of what could’ve happened if she had trusted him, trusted herself, would she still have wound up here, thinks dimly of how flat Hook’s words were to her, how closed off, a complete turn from the start of their climb up the beanstalk, thinks I did this, I did that to him, I got us caught in this trap —

She thinks maybe she should have trusted him, but now she won’t get a chance to right that wrong, doesn’t even know if she would want to if she got the chance.

6.

How could you not? You don’t believe in your parents. Or in magic. Or even yourself.

Goddamn Rumplestiltskin — Gold — whatever his name was now.

When have you ever taken a real leap of faith?

Because what they needed right now — when Henry was missing — was to separate.

You’re still just that bail-bonds person.

What the hell did he know, Emma thought bitterly, the burn in her muscles not doing anything to clear her mind. She paused a moment to catch her breath, pushing back the swell of frustration, the burning in her throat. Henry is missing. That’s the fact of the matter. This is no time to doubt herself, to —

“Aw, don’t stop on my account.”

Hook.

Of course. Because she needed more things on her mind, needed more questions she couldn’t find the answer to. “What are you doing?”

Getting ready for a fight, she manages to ground out, ignoring Hook’s quip, because like hell she would tell him that she was doing her own equivalent of a pep talk, of going through mindless, repetitive motions to try to clear her mind of Gold’s words, or tell him that she was starting to believe them, not because Gold had said it flat to her face, but because it was all already in her head.

And in what is starting to become a frustrating pattern, she doesn’t need to tell him anyway.

“Don’t let Rumplestiltskin get you down, love,” is said gently, free of any judgement, and dammit, how does he see through her so easily (open book), he had done it on the beanstalk, done it in Granny’s with a simple why are you really doing this, and the more time she spends in his presence, the more she understood the weight of her own words when Emma had told him you and I, we understand each other — God, was that just a couple hours ago?

“What do you want?” Because there was no chance she was going to go further with this. He pulls out a key as he starts to talk about Neal.

Yes, because an even better topic conversation with the man who can read her like no one else was her recently killed ex who she still has a shit ton of mixed and complicated feelings for.

Hook offers her a sword, then, a quiet this was his, has her looking up and taking a look at his face.

Emma might have a harder time understanding his particular motives right now, but she is not the only open book on this ship, she thinks, noting the way his eyes don’t meet hers, the way his head sways, the edge to his I’m not when she accuses him of being sentimental. What a terrible liar, she muses, trying to ignore the warm feeling starting to replacing the cold dread that Gold’s words had left.

“I just thought you could use it where we’re going, you know,” he hands her a shot glass, and Hook may be a terrible liar, but he’s certainly good at deflecting, she thinks, as he drawls out, “to fight.”

He pours her some rum, and somehow, the moment the glass was filled, she realizes that this was exactly what she needed. Not some pull ups to get ready for a fight, not to talk about her feelings with her parents, not pointless reassurances or empty promises and words. Just a moment to take a breath and process, free of outside influence. Thanks.

“To Neal,” Hook offers simply, and they toast and they drink and they sit in silence, and it is ridiculous how easy it is to be in his presence.

He comes with no expectations of who she should be, no underlying disappointment throughout every interaction when she is nothing expected, no pressure to be a lost daughter, or a mother who lost ten years with her son, or Neal’s ex, or some savior responsible for everyone’s happiness, or princess, or even a bail-bonds person.

With him, she simply is.

So she asks about Neal, because she can’t imagine him young and a teenager, playing pirate with Hook, because no matter how much he had broken her heart, how much just his name reminds her of the cold metal of a cuff around her ankle as she gave birth, or the cold metal of the watch on her wrist that night, being in Neal’s presence made her feel sixteen and recklessly in love again, and seeing him die made her wish for better closure, and being in Hook’s presence was easy and calming, and he was the only other person she knows who she could talk to about Neal.

(who she feels she could someday tell the whole story of her and Neal, without judgement or expectation or suggestions to forgive and forget)

Naturally, Hook sees right through her question, and true to form, as she is starting to learn, answers plainly and free of judgement or amusement or those stupid sympathetic looks that make her want to hit something. “Long enough to know I miss him, too.”

Their eyes meet. No more words are said, and it is quiet. The room is heavy. And it is easy.

7.

“Hook,” David says as soon as he separates from Mary Margaret. “He saved my life.”

Emma’s heart skips a few beats, focusing sharply on David, trying to find any injuries.

“Are you sure you wanna tell them that, mate?” Hook asks him cautiously, but Emma is far too worried about the idea that those two were in any situation at all that called for someone’s life being saved. Are they alright, what happened?

“On our trek,” David starts, “we were ambushed by Lost Boys. Pinned down, outnumbered, but Hook — he risked his life to stop me from getting hit by a poisoned arrow.”

He what? Now she turns to look at Hook, but he shifts uncomfortably, looking away from them all, forcing up a short smile as David approaches. “If it wasn’t for Hook, I wouldn’t be alive. Your flask, please,” Hook seems to be able to meet only David’s eyes as he hands him the flask. I thought he deserved a little credit.

Only now does Emma’s heart slow down a bit, because just how close had she come to losing her friend — her father? Thank you, Hook manages, but still looks supremely uncertain and uncomfortable, even with the gratefulness softening it just a bit. They pass the rum about, but Emma can’t help but stare.

Once again he surprises her, and once again, she sees that honorable gentleman peeking out from underneath that cocky pirate captain persona. She saw it when he took her hand, insisting on bandaging it, when he had smiled at her, so bright and open, her heart had skipped a beat, saw it when he had put himself to pains to reach for Aurora’s heart, when he had so blatantly thrown their fight at Lake Nostos (No way did she beat a pirate in a sword fight when she had only held a sword for a week), saw it when he turned his ship around, gave her the bean with a simple, maybe I just needed reminding that I could, saw it below the decks of his ship when he offered her Neal’s sword and they drank a toast to his memory.

To Hook, she murmurs, taking a swig of the rum, before turning back to him as the others return back to their camp.

He is turned away from her completely, staring fixatedly on a tree, and the words come out before she can stop herself, “D’you really save his life?”

“Does that surprise you?” he asks, and he barely glances at her before turning back to the tree. She gives back the rum.

“Well, you and David aren’t exactly... how do you say it? Mates,” she mimics his accent, expecting a smirk or a small laugh.

Instead, he finally turns to face her, serious and honest, “Doesn’t mean I’d leave your father to perish on this island.”

Thank you, is all she can say to the sincerity in his eyes and voice.

A slow, teasing grin spreads across his face, and she knows he’s putting up an act, directing their conversation to something much lighter, but regardless, Emma feels the mood lighten almost immediately, feels herself start to feel just a bit giddy, giddy from speaking to Henry, from David and Hook making it back safe, despite the sextant, from the rum, from this man standing across her, who constantly keeps her and her expectations on its toes, who she’s felt connected to since they climbed the damn beanstalk and he revealed just a bit of himself when he tied that damn scarf with his damn mouth, and turned his ship around and offered his assistance in helping Henry when there was nothing in it for him.

Perhaps gratitude is in order now, he muses, tapping his lips with his finger, and she can’t help but return his teasing smile, because “Yeah, that’s what the thank you was for,” but he just makes a quiet noise in the back of his throat as he takes just another step forward.

“Is that all your father’s life is worth to you?” Hook asks, and that giddiness seems to swell just a bit more, because, he saved David’s life. He turned his ship around, gave her Neal’s sword, gives advice freely, directed them to Tinkerbell, showed them what plants are safe to eat and which to avoid, even with all the doubts the others throw his way, and all the while, he simply turns to her, smiles, calls her excellent, backs all her ideas, and never once does he seem to doubt her.

“Please, you couldn’t handle it,”

“Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it,”

He pops the t, the corner of his lips tugging up, and he stares at her with bright, open blue eyes, so so reminiscent of the look he had given her when she pulled him out of the rubble, calling her brilliant and amazing, and asking to see the compass, and offering his hand up to her.

She should leave.

She should walk away now, head back to David and Mary Margaret and Regina.

Oh, fuck it.

Her hands close around the collar of his coat, dragging him in for a kiss even before she could finish the thought. She keeps a death grip on his collar as the other winds up in his ridiculously soft hair, and his lips taste of rum and Neverland fruits, and he doesn’t move for a moment, far too surprised, before his hand comes up her own hair and he breathes in harshly through his nose and he responds, and oh.

Hook kisses the same way he does just about anything else; with everything he has. It has her burning, because he kisses like he’s challenging her, kisses like a drowning man taking a breath for the first time, kisses like she’s the sun and he hasn’t seen daylight in years, kisses like he’ll never kiss anyone again.

They separate, but their foreheads are pressed together, and she still has a death grip on his coat, and they are breathing harshly, and all she can think is, oh.

That was —

“That was...” and he sounds wrecked, stunned, as if he hasn’t just given her the best kiss of her life, and oh, oh, oh, oh no, but even with the growing panic, she feels good, and he feels good, and they feel good together, and —

A one-time thing, she forces herself to step away, to turn and head back into camp, and she makes the mistake of looking at his face, as stunned and wrecked as he sounds, brow furrowing at her words, and the words taste a bit wrong in her mouth, tastes like a lie, but it can’t be a lie, because there’s no chance she’s letting herself —

“Don’t follow me,” she instructs him, not letting herself look at him again, “Wait five minutes, go get some firewood or something.”

“As you wish,” he calls at her back, and the smile that spreads on her face is completely involuntary.

Her heart is still pounding, lips still burning, and she still feels so so good, for the first time since Henry was taken, she was in some semblance of a good mood, and he was the one to put it there, with his stupid easy faith, stupid smiles and compliments and suggestions, urging her to find a way to speak to Henry, and saving David’s life, and the stupid way he doesn’t even expect anything back, not even acknowledgement, and the stupid, goddamn way he kisses like his life depends on it, why the hell does he kiss like that.

What the hell made her think kissing him would be a good idea? She can panic about this later.

(She can still taste the rum and fruits.)

(She thinks maybe she really couldn’t handle it.)

8.

The whole Neal thing isn’t enough to distract from the burn on her lips, the memory of those bright, open blue eyes, or the teasing voice, or that damn kiss, like Hook was breathing air for the first time.

“I kissed him,” Emma blurts out the moment she and Mary Margaret are out of earshot from David and Hook.

“What?” she asks, “Who?” As if there’s an abundance of options she has of people to kiss.

“Hook, I kissed Hook,” and the memory of his lips on hers are still so fresh, the taste of rum and fruits, that bright, giddy feeling he had managed to bring out of her still echoing in her chest, even as the thought of finding Neal makes her heart ache.

“Oh,” says Mary Margaret, voice high, with surprise or suspended judgement or maybe both, maybe neither, Emma doesn’t know, “Wh-why?”

Because he sees her and has no expectations for her, because he doesn’t lie to her, because of the way he had smiled at her, the teasing lilt to his voice, the easy faith he puts on her, because he came back and offered to help save Henry, saved David, and because they shared a drink, shared moments on the ship, on the beanstalk, in this damn island, because try as he might, he just can’t hide that gentleman underneath the selfish pirate persona.

I don’t know, she says instead, “I-I was — it’s been a while, I was feeling good —“

“Did it mean anything?”

Yes, she thinks instinctively, except she doesn’t know what it means, doesn’t even know why she brought it up, because it was a one-time thing, and, it was just a kiss, because it should have just been a kiss, but her voice is starting to pitch defensively, completely involuntary, and she can still feel the pull of his lips on hers, the taste of fruit and rum, and the way he had kissed like —

“I’m sure Neal will understand,” completely falters her thoughts, because the hell does Neal have anything to do wi—

Oh, right, they’re on their way now to rescue her apparently not-so-dead-ex, the father of her son, who she said I love you to right before he fell into the portal, and she had just told her mother she kissed another man. It must seem like Emma was worried about what Neal might think, which — No. “If he’s still alive,”

“Emma, I get what you’re doing, you know,” says Mary Margaret carefully, “you don’t wanna open yourself up the the hope that he’s alive, but you should,” completely stops her in her tracks.

Why, She stares at Mary Margaret, heart sinking.

She had wanted some closure from Neal, yes, she deserved that closure after all that he’s done to her, the memory of that damn alleyway, cuffs closing around her wrists, and months in a cell with nothing but a keychain, car keys, and a positive pregnancy test, the way she couldn’t even bear to look at her son after she gave birth because then she’d never be able to let him go, to give him a life he deserves, the two years in Tallahassee waiting, just waiting, had her building up her walls higher and thicker than when she had left the system.

But with Neal gone, Emma had thought she could finally let it go, move past that part of her life, could live without the constant worry she had lived with for years that she would see him again someday, except she did, in possibly the worst way, slamming into him in some New York alleyway, with him getting mad at her for bringing Gold to him, scoffing and dismissing her like she was still sixteen and he hadn’t set her up to take the fall fo his crime. No, then he followed he back to Storybrooke with a fiancée who wound up kidnapping Henry for Peter Pan, even as he and her parents had dismissed all her suspicions as some petty jealousy.

No, she wanted to get closure and move on. She wasn’t sixteen and in love with the cool, older guy who had understood her anymore. She didn't want to feel sixteen anymore. She wanted to feel at ease, like she feels around Henry and his endless faith and belief in everything, around Mary Margaret before things became so much more complicated, around Hook, of all people, when he offers her a drink, when compliments and praise slip freely from his lips but seems to expects nothing in return, when he is always so open and easy to read when they are alone, when he reads her unnervingly well, not needing her to speak her doubts before he replaces it with that easy faith and a small smile.

“Because you deserve a happy ending, Emma,” Mary Margaret turns to face her, earnest, “and happy endings always start with hope,”

But what did it mean if the only hope she feels regarding Neal is the dark, grim hope that this was just a trick?

9.

“I thought Emma would wish to have something to remember you by,” Hook’s voice is terse.

“Oh, thanks, but she’s got me now,” and what? The hell is this about?

She holds out an arm to stop Hook from following Neal, woah, what was that about, but Hook is standoffish, can’t meet her eyes right, and dammit, he’s been having difficulty doing that since the Echo Caves. His words are halting, tense and just a bit uncomfortable, “I assumed he heard my secret, I also assumed you told him of our shared moment,”

“Why would you assume that,” she asks sharply. This time, he has no trouble holding her gaze, because I was hoping it meant something, but that is not the point, that is not what meant something, because it occurs to her that the only time Pan could’ve told him about Neal was immediately after their kiss, and still — “What meant something was that you told us Neal was still alive. Thank you,” she seems to be saying that to him a lot, and each time, she means it more and more. “Otherwise you could’ve kept Pan’s information to yourself.”

“Why would I have done that?” he asks genuinely, as though it never once occurred to him, as though he didn’t have everything to gain and nothing to lose if he kept the information to himself.

“Maybe Pan offered you a deal, why else would he tell you?”

“It was a test,” he says simply, unbothered, “he wanted to see if I’d leave an old friend to die, even if that old friend happens to be vying for the same woman I am,”

She stares, and thinks of how refreshing it is to speak with him, the way he doesn’t beat around the bush, the way he states his intentions plainly, never bothering with a lie, thinks of that gentleman he mentioned once, so long ago, shining through again, always there, underlying most of his actions, “And you chose your friend,” she doesn’t mean to sound so surprised.

He only shrugs, “Does that surprise you?”

She thinks she’s more surprised by how unsurprised she is.

Emma has learned so much more about Hook in their short time together, thinks of how easy it always is to be with him, to speak with him, to understand him, because he never says the words, but she knows the reason she is an open book to him is the same reason he is an open book to her.

You are a pirate, she says instead, smiling at him, wanting him to smile back, to laugh, but when he does, it is tinged with an uncharacteristic self-deprecation, yeah, that I am, and he looks down, looks away from her, and Emma thinks he shouldn’t sound like that (thinks she doesn’t want him to sound like that).

He takes a step closer, and somehow, she doesn’t feel even slightly uncomfortable by his closeness, by his openness, his sincerity, “But I also believe in good form. So when I win your heart, Emma — and I will win it. It will not be because of any trickery. It will be because you want me.”

She’s already known this, deep down. He never mentioned saving David voluntarily, even cautioned against David’s acknowledgement, he decided to be the first to speak his secret, to bear his heart to save Neal, never once bringing it up as a point of praise, and he’s so so honest, expecting nothing in return, simply happy to lay his heart down in her hands. She has to turn this conversation away from the direction it’s going, she has no time to examine her own feelings and desires, not while Henry is still in danger, she isn’t nearly as brave enough to examine herself, too scared to find out what that answer may be, where it may lead her to, and she’s nowhere near as brave as Hook to simply put herself out there like he is. “This is not a contest, Hook,”

“Isn’t it?” he questions mildly, “You’re gonna have to choose, Emma. You realize that, don’t you? Because neither one of us is gonna give up,” he gestures towards Neal’s general direction, but —

“The only thing I have to choose is the best way to get my son back,” she corrects him, because Henry will always be her priority, now, on Neverland when he’s in constant danger, back in Storybrooke where he is happy and surrounded by family, even regardless of whatever danger Storybrooke winds up in, and even when there’s no danger to be had.

“And you will,” says Hook simply, as though there isn’t even a single shred of doubt in his mind, and once again, Emma is struck by his simple faith. The answer is plain on his face, in his voice, in the silence of her lie detector, but somehow, the quiet doubt constantly on the back of her mind is calling out to her, and she can’t help but ask, can’t help the creeping vulnerability, you think so, because she has the feeling he wouldn’t laugh, wouldn’t brush it away, or mock or whatever else.

I’ve yet to see you fail, and there’s a shadow of a smile on his face as he stares back at her, but Emma knows it’s not a smile of mocking, “and when you do succeed,” he continues, uses when because in his mind, her victory is already guaranteed, no matter if they have no concrete plan to get to Henry, to defeat Pan, to leave Neverland, “well, that’s when the fun begins,” and he’s smiling properly now.

“Guys!” Neal calls out then, and Hook’s eyes dart to somewhere behind her, his face smooths out into his usual vaguely disinterested expression, hiding away the heart he so easily opens when they’re alone, but Emma is slow to tear her eyes away from him, because she still shaken, moved by his confidence and belief in her, the same that she’s only ever seen on Henry, with his unfaltering faith in the goodness of people, even ones he’s called evil, with his but I believe in you, before he collapsed and leaving her in panic and believing in magic, for him.

(She thinks she could be in serious trouble with this man.)

(She thinks she might already be in serious trouble with this man.)

10.

Emma doesn’t want to leave. Not when she had finally found her parents, found her son, found a place she could belong (a place she could call home). She’s barely holding back her tears, can see Henry doing the same, and they’re at the town line, her Bug already at the edge, but she doesn’t want to go.

Hook approaches her as soon as she moves away from the crowd, and she starts to feel even worse.

She doesn’t know what to say to him, what she wants him to know, and judging by his uncertain expression, he feels the same.

“That’s quite the vessel you captain there, Swan,” he attempts lightly, and it brings out a smile from her, however shaky, because he always seems to be able to do that to her.

She doesn’t know what she wants to say to him, but she knows she could very possibly regret not saying anything at all more than anything else.

If she has to leave, if she can never see him again, Emma knows she has to say goodbye, knows she owes it to him, owes it to herself, owes it to them.

But the smile fades from his face, and he looks about the same as she feels, and “There’s not a day that will go by that I won’t think of you,” and she knows he is not lying, does not need to use her superpower with him because he wears his damn heart on his sleeve when it comes to her, because if there’s one thing she can count on, it’s Captain Hook — Killian Jones’ honor and dedication and honesty, knows that when he makes a promise, he keeps it, and she doesn’t even have to look much further than how they met, him dedicating himself to centuries avenging an old love.

There was something building between them, she knows. It’s why she ran from him in the first place so long ago on the beanstalk. She doesn’t need his open honesty about his feelings, doesn’t need the Echo Caves to know. She was in trouble with him from the start, since he read her like an open book, and she ran from it, and she knew the moment she kissed him that whatever it was, it wasn’t something she could keep running from forever.

Until now.

(Until she felt that she might not really want to run anymore.)

But even now, when they’ll never see each other again, when there’s no consequence to keeping his heart hidden from her, he tells her the truth, tells her he won’t stop thinking of her, and she thinks, for once, he deserves some honesty in return, because she may not know what she feels for him, may not return whatever it is he feels for her, but dammit she cares about him, and she’s going to miss him. So she says good, because that’s all she can manage to say, but he still manages to understand her meaning, and he smiles, and steps back.

(She thinks her heart might just break a bit more.)

They may never know what it was that was building, but she has never met another person she could understand so well, who could understand her so well, who she feels she could someday let her walls down for, who she felt truly connected with.

She never knew what kindred spirits meant until she met him.

But then Regina says she and Henry will lose their memories, lose the years they spent in Storybrooke, lose the knowledge that she had found her family, the knowledge that she was wanted, and that Henry has more family than he could possibly know to do with, but could still easily love enough to fill his big heart, and her own heart breaks, breaks for her son, for herself, for her parents and Regina, who can’t even have the comfort that they would be thinking about them, and for Hook, who had promised her everyday but she can’t even return the favor for one more day.

(somehow, she knows, even without her memories, she would have regretted not saying goodby to Hook.)

But they are out of time, and she and Henry get into the Bug, and she starts driving.

She can feel her parents gaze, can feel Hook’s eyes, can feel her memories fading, being replaced, but she holds on as long as she can, until there’s nothing left to hold on to.

(She wonders, later, at the incredible sense of loss she feels, wonders at her acquired taste for rum, wonders at the melancholy she feels when she stares out at the ocean, or when she watches Disney movies with Henry, wonders why everything just feels wrong, feels like there’s something missing.)

11.

Emma had started to wonder who was more insane; the madman dressed head-to-toe in leather rambling about curses and family — or her for thinking, for feeling, that some part of what he’s saying actually made sense.

The moment he had turned up, nothing felt right anymore (nothing had felt right all year), felt strangely like she had known the man who showed up at her door, felt very much insane for actually leaning into the kiss for a split second, felt like she wanted to trust him, felt so much like she was missing something, something so, so, important.

Except nothing the man had said made any sort of logical sense, and she can’t get him out of her thoughts, her head, and Walsh’s proposal wasn’t helping her keep her head straight, and even when she’s throwing him in jail, she can’t help but seek him out again. But she needs answers, and he’s just pleading with her to take a baseless leap of faith, to trust him, trust herself, and he hasn’t lied once to her, no matter how insane the words spilling from his lips are.

(Everything in her is telling her to do it, to try something new.)

“As much as you deny it, deep down, you know something’s wrong, deep down, you know I’m right,” he insists, but it’s not possible, and how could she forget all of this?

He pulls out that tiny blue vial again, offers it out to her again, and again, Emma is struck by the strange familiarity of the action struck by the feeling that she knows what it feels for him to offer a drink, (for her to take it). “If you drink this it will,” he says quietly, and it’s all insane, he is insane, and she must be insane for wanting to take it, because —

“If — if what you’re saying is true... I’d have to give up my life here,”

“It’s all based on lies,” he insists.

“It’s real,” she protests, “and it’s pretty good! I have Henry, a job — a guy I love!”

His face falls, and he looks down at the grown as though he can’t meet her eyes, as though it will give him something to say, give him courage, and “Perhaps there’s a man that you love in the life that you’ve lost,” and Emma —

Stares. He’s talking about himself, she realizes. Knows it in herself, knows it like she knows anything else, although, perhaps that’s the wrong analogy now that he’s turned her life upside down in the span of a day.

“Regardless,” he plows on, as though he hadn’t really meant to reveal so much, like he’s trying to cover up his vulnerabilities, cover up the heart he hadn’t meant to open up to her, “if you wanna find the truth, drink up. Do you really want to live a life of lies? You know this isn’t right, trust your gut, Swan, it will tell you what to do,”

“Henry always says that,” she says quietly, staring at him, and he stares back, open, honest, earnest, and she thinks that maybe her resolve has crumbled.

“Then if you won’t listen to me, listen to your boy,”

Emma has no reasons left, not when he clearly means well, not when all her instincts are saying he can be trusted, that she can take a leap of faith with him, not when he’s looking at her like that, not when both he and Henry trust her to trust herself, when he had — intentionally or not — revealed himself to her with a man that you love in the life that you’ve lost.

So she takes the vial and drinks and —

She remembers, remembers lighting a candle on a cupcake, remembers Henry smiling at her on her doorstep, remembers Storybrooke, the clocktower moving, the dragon she fought when she finally believed, remembers Henry, cold and pale and lifeless until he woke with a kiss, remembers her parents, Neal, shot, falling through the portal, remembers Hook, the way he had looked at her at Echo Caves, remembers saying goodbye, remembers leaving —

She hadn’t even realized she had closed her eyes until she opens them, sees Hook watching her, anxious, worried, and oh, “Hook,” she breathes out, and he lights up at her, smiles like everything is okay, alright.

“Did you miss me?” he grins, and Emma wonders if it’s possible to have missed something she never even knew she had lost, but she remembers now, remembers the drinks they shared, the moments they had alone, the words and promises given, remembers the times she had wondered why she suddenly had a taste for rum, had a strange sense of melancholy whenever she took Henry to the seaside, knows now that yes some part of her had missed him even when she didn’t know she had lost h—

(He is not hers to lose, she reminds herself.)

(But she also remembers ‘until I met you’, remembers ‘when I win your heart’, remembers ‘not a day will go by’, and she simply knows, knows from the way he looks at her now that he had kept that promise, and she thinks, somewhere deep, deep down, that he just might disagree with that.

She wonders at how she is more scared at the fact she isn’t as scared at that as she should be.)

Later they are sat at her apartment, and she sets down two glasses and a bottle of rum as he recounts what happened after their return to the Enchanted Forest, recounts his return to piracy, and “Glad to see you haven’t changed,” she quips, because her mind is still reeling, the sudden simplicity and comfort of her life the past year twisted upside down, the sinking feeling that her memories of holding Henry as a baby, of changing her mind, of taking care of him and raising him are just stories, and nothing feels real anymore, nothing feels right, and if just one thing, just one person could still be the same, that would be very much appreciated.

But Hook only picks up his glass, “There wasn’t anything for me in the Enchanted Forest,” he says simply, “Why would I stay?”

And Emma has nothing she can think of saying, but she wants to say something, because again, he’s talking about her, knows he is, even if he never says the words, thinks (hopes) he hadn’t just disappeared off all on his own, thinks maybe he doesn’t do all that well on his own, thinks of the centuries he had spent on revenge for his first love, thinks of the promise he had made her in Neverland and at the town line, and thinks just maybe —

She opens her mouth, but before she can scrounge up something to say, he tilts his glass for a toast, and she falters, tapping her own glass to his. “And all was well,” he continues, leaning back in his seat, “until I got a message, a message saying there was a new curse, and everyone had been returned to Storybrooke, the message told me that the only hope — was you,”

“You came all the way back here to save my family?” she doesn’t mean for it to sound so doubting, but once again, there was absolutely nothing in it for him, he clearly hadn’t even been caught up in the curse, hadn’t even been with any of them for a year, yet he had gone to pains to track her down in New York, gone to pains to keep trying to convince her to trust him, no matter how long it had taken, how many times she called him crazy, or had slammed the door in his face, or left him to prison.

I came back to save you, is said plainly, so matter of factly that it nearly sounded flat, and Emma doesn’t know what to say to that, because again, he isn’t expecting praise or gratitude, isn’t saying it for anything other than to keep honest with her, because he had again, come back for her, because even back in Neverland he never kept his feelings a secret from her and she can’t even bring herself to return the favor, because he isn’t even expecting her to return the favor, and just how had he managed to find her, get to her?

So instead, she asks him who could’ve done this, but he knows just about as much as she does, alas, you’re the Savior, not me, and he downs the rest of his rum, but Emma can’t help but laugh, because, “You know what I was yesterday? A mother. Until you showed up and started poking holes into everything I thought was real. Drinking that potion was like waking up from a dream — a really good dream,”

She wonders at how easy it is to confide this to him.

“Well you have what matters most — your son,”

“Now I have to figure out how to explain this to him,”

Hook looks apologetic, “Alas, I could only scavenge together enough for one dose of memory potion,”

“I’d better start figuring out what I’m gonna tell him,” she replied quietly, and dammit how the hell had her life just gotten so much harder, so much more complicated in a single day? She has no idea what to even say to Henry, how to make this not sound absolutely insane, and —

The door buzzes, and Hook asks who it is, but oh shit how had she forgotten about Walsh? Henry invited him, she explains, and Hook turns, offers to get rid of him, but her life may not have been real, her memories all jumbled up and twisted and messy right now, but whatever lives she and Henry had made this past year was real, the eight months she spent with Walsh was real, and I owe him an explanation, even if she doesn’t know what that explanation is, or even where to begin.

“What are you going to say to him?” Hook asks, and Emma just feels very tired, just wants to take a damn moment to process everything, take a moment without having to figure out how to explain this insanity to Walsh or Henry, but Hook has been honest to her, and the least she can do is return that honesty.

“I don’t know. But I care about him too much to drag him into all this. Wait here,” she requests.

But turns out she hadn’t needed to think of something to say to Walsh, because Walsh is a fucking flying monkey and Walsh had just tried to kill her, because of course. Why had she even thought that having some semblance of a normal life would be possible for her?

Hook comes bursting through the door to the rooftop, calling out to her in worry, because of course he did, what the blazes was that, but Emma just feels the betrayal, the grief, rage, bitterness swelling up, and maybe the stress of the whole day is getting to her, because again, she just answers him honestly, “A reminder. That I was never safe, that what I wanted — what I thought I could have was not in the cards for the Savior,”

The way he looks at her just makes her feel a bit worse, like he knows exactly what she’s referring to, like he wants to disagree but wouldn’t know if he would be overstepping, like he wants to say something but doesn’t know what, but she’s exhausted, drained from the day, from finding out her life is a lie, from Walsh, so she pushes past him, “We leave in the morning.”

(The next morning Hook pounds on the door, she lets him saunter in and he greets her with a wide grin, looks amused at Henry asking if he skipped bail, looks offended at the slight against his clothes, and she calls him Killian for the first time, it’s strange how right it feels to use his name, no matter how wrong it feels lying to Henry, and she reaches for her red leather jacket, reaches for her armor, because she needs it after Walsh, after how her life turned out to be wrong, after how easy it was to confide in Hook.)

(Somehow, she feels that not even her armor can help her much when it comes to Hook.)

12.

“You’ll look for any excuse to use that thing, won’t you?” Emma doesn’t bother hiding her amusement as Hook shakes at the berries with his — well, hook.

“At least we know we’re in the right place, what now?”

“Now we start searching.”

“You know something, Swan,” he starts lightly, “whenever you’re around, I inevitably find myself trekking through some manner of woods or forest courting danger,” he drawls.

“And here I thought you weren’t afraid of anything, always looking for the next adventure,”

“Oh, is that what this is?” he questions her.

“Isn’t it? The hell were you doing for the last year alone on that ship? I’m guessing it was one swashbuckling tale after another. Until you decided to come back and save me,”

She isn’t being fair to him, she knows. But something happened to him in the past year, something has that melancholy constantly in his eyes shining even stronger, something he’s hiding from her, and Walsh is still fresh in her mind, just one more person she had opened her heart to, only to have been hiding something, only to have been lying, just one more person she hadn’t expected the worst from, only to turn around and betray her, and the bitterness at the memory is just rising, frustration from everything going on building, and she still doesn’t know why he came for her.

She isn’t being fair to him, Emma smiles bitterly, because Hook may not be lying, but he’s certainly hiding something from her, and she’s incredibly tired of people not being who they say they are, and fuck she’s stressed and frustrated, frustrated from Walsh, from the lack of answers, from the new curse, her false memories, lying to Henry, and Killian is right there.

“Exactly,” he answers her shortly, and Emma thinks this is the first time he’s really lied to her since they met, and her frustration grows. She isn’t being fair to him but she’s too frustrated to care right now, you’re lying, she turns, confronts him, and Hook’s eyes go flat. “Excuse me?”

“What happened back there, what aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing,” he says cooly, “It’s my tale and I’m sticking to it,” but I still don’t believe you, and she’s only half aware of why she’s still pushing it, still desperately wants answers, wants to know what was so bad that he’s lying to her, wants to know what he’s been doing, how far he had to go to find her, why he went through all that trouble to return her memories, return her to Storybrooke, why he came for her at all, because as much as she wants to trust him, as much as she already trusts him, experience has taught her there has to be more.

But he’s not budging, he’s standing tense, he sounds frustrated as well, “Let’s just leave it at that and you can just say thank you,”

“For my memories? I already did,” and then he mentions Walsh, calls it a would-be loveless marriage, and that — that wasn’t — is that — “Is that what you think you’re doing?” because as good at Hook is at making her feel good, feel at ease, he’s equally good at pushing, getting her on the defensive (just as she knows she is equally good at doing the same to him).

“He was a flying monkey,”

“I didn’t know that,”

“Were you considering it? His proposal?” he asks quietly, and why is he — does it matter, because she really doesn’t want to get into this with anyone, with him, “Humor me,” and Emma kind of wants to laugh at the situation, two people who can read each other ridiculously well, keeping their secrets close to their chest, pushing for answers, but neither willing to budge. But as frustratingly as ever, as much as she wants to shove him away, wants to keep her own feelings, own thoughts in check, he is frustratingly good at pushing her, pushing her buttons, frustratingly easy to speak to.

“Yes, okay,” she snaps, “I was in love, so of course I was considering it. But as usual, he wasn’t who he said he was, and I got my heart broken, that enough humor for you?”

Because the lies, the betrayal is still raw, because she had lived a damn good life in New York, with her son and a guy she had loved, because Hook had shown up on her doorstep and woke her up from that life, because now, once again, she’s been burned by love, betrayed by someone she trusted, because Hook is frustratingly good at bringing out all sorts of feelings she’d much rather keep locked away, because she had started pushing him for answers and in the end, she was the one spilling her secrets, and now she’s even more upset and frustrated than when they had started speaking.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m glad to hear that,” he says instead, and what? Is there any right way to take that? But because it’s Killian, she knows he means what he says, and she has already let him see past her walls, showed him a piece of her heart, so she gives him the benefit of the doubt, you’re glad to hear I had my heart broken, because she wants to know —

And he’s taking a step closer to her, “If it can be broken,” and her sharp intake of breath was completely involuntary, because he’s so close, he hasn’t been this close since their kiss, and the way he looks at her — “It means it still works,”

She had wanted answers from him, but he’s answering the wrong questions. She doesn’t need her superpower to tell he’s sincere, not with the way he’s looking at her, like he’s speaking from experience, like it’s a lesson he had recently learned (like it’s a lesson she had been the one to teach him), but she has nothing she can say, nothing she wants to say, not when he’s still hiding something, not with Walsh still fresh in her memory, in her heart, not with this damn new curse, and goddamn everything, not now.

Not when, as much as she trusts him already, trusts him to have her back, to be around Henry, she can’t trust him with her heart.

So she does what she does best and runs. (She can hear it takes him several moments to follow, wonders what he was thinking, wonders why she cares about what he thinks.)

13.

Her magic swells, and she can feel the hot cocoa in front of her disappear, shift, reappear over to the booth Killian sits in, on top of the book he’s reading, and the success has her slamming her hand down the counter in delight, “Boom! Granny’s to-go. I should open a franchise,” she sings out, because she feels great, and it’s always so easy to be with Hook, and even just thinking about him makes her think of what he did for her, for Henry, for Ariel, and she feels good, dammit.

“It’s impressive,” he offers, and what, that’s it? She settles into her seat across from him, and she wants him to look impressed, sound more impressed, but he’s been looking drawn and exhausted since he helped Ariel, and she wants him to smile at her, laugh with her, tease her, wants him lighten up, to open up about whatever is bothering him.

“Wanna see something really impressive?” she asks him, pleased smile spreading as she looks at him, and he only sighs, looking back, and nope, that isn’t lightening up, so she waves her hand, feels the surge of magic, and hears the clink of his hook falling onto the coat rack. The continued success has her giggling (god, giggling, what the hell does being in his presence do to her?).

She wants him to laugh, to smile, to make some snarky comment or casual praise, or tease her, wants to help remove whatever cloud has been settling on his shoulders, whatever it was that had him distant, closed off.

Instead, he scowls, getting up to retrieve his hook, that’s bad form, Swan, tampering with a man’s hook, and if she hadn’t already been worried for him before, she certainly would be now. “Okay, seriously, what is up with you?” she keeps her tone light, because maybe she’s reading too much into it, but she’s still curious, worried for him.

“I apologize for my rudeness,” he sighs, getting back to his seat, “It’s a long story, too long for now,” and he takes a swig from his flask, and clearly she wasn’t reading too much into it, but now she is properly worried for her best friend.

Oh god.

Emma had to stop and take a moment as it occurred to her. Because somehow, somewhere along the way, between Neverland and New York and the Wicked Witch of the West, Killian Jones, Captain Hook, had become her best friend — her confidant.

Because in this completely fucked up town filled with fairy tales, where her parents are Snow White and Prince Charming, and she’s after the Wicked Witch with her friends Belle, and the Evil Queen, and — yes, Captain Hook — for as long as she’s known him, even with his flowery language and pirate regalia and cluelessness to modern conveniences, he’s always felt the realest person around, both of them equally cynical and sarcastic, both burned by the world, both had to learn to fend for themselves early on.

How was this her life.

But regardless, something serious is bothering him, and she has confided in him many times before, back in Neverland, in New York, about Neal, about Walsh, about her doubts, her frustrations, and for once she wants to be able to return the favor, “Okay,” she starts slowly, “obviously, something’s —“

But then Belle slams the door to the Diner open, stumbling in with a great, old, massive book, calling out to her and dropping the book on the table hastily. “Zelena’s plan,” and she must’ve been running to them because she’s still panting, “I figured out what she’s doing,” and suddenly Emma has more to worry about than how Killian had managed to secure his spot as her best friend, has to take a rain check on figuring out what was wrong with him, has to push her worries aside for now.

(They may not be in the forefront of her mind, but it certainly resurfaces every time her eyes fall on him, sees the shadows in his eyes, sees the way he looks like he’s holding the weight of the world on his shoulders, sees the way he has no patience for just about anything, the way his quips are born more often from frustration than attempts at humor, and the way she doesn’t know how to help.)

14.

“I never should have brought Henry back to Storybrooke,” Emma tells Hook, because no matter how pissed of she is with him at the moment, he’s still the easiest person to talk to.

“You did what you felt was right,”

“I did what you manipulated me into,” and yeah, she isn’t being all that fair to him, knows she’s not being rational, knows it was very much her own choice, but she’s still so angry, still lashing out at him, because he lied to her, put Henry in danger, and she cursed me, and had broken her trust, and he’s talking about her parents and the town needing her, but “Henry, also needed me. We were happy in New York, and when I’m done melting this witch, I’d like us to be happy again.”

“You know, as content as you were in that city, it wasn’t real,”

“It was real for me,” she denies, “For him, everything that happened, happened,” but, as always, Hook isn’t afraid to keep pushing her, even when she’s already furious with him, when he knows she’s angry, and like it or not, a big part of you and Henry belongs in this town, but Henry had nearly died today, Neal had died in her arms, Zelena’s after her unborn sibling, Killian himself had been cursed, been turned into a weapon against her, turned into an attempt at taking her magic.

“What does the boy think?”

“He’s a kid! He wants chocolate milk in his cereal, I’m his mother, I know what’s best for him.”

“What’s best for him?” he asks, slowing his walk to face her properly, to urge her to a stop as well, and he looks rather unimpressed by any of her arguments, “or for you?”

“Excuse me?” she scoffs, pushing past him.

“You’ve taken care of the boy quite well here,” he points out, catching up to her “you talk about danger all you like, but it isn’t that. So tell me, what is it? Why are you so scared of staying? I think it’s because you can see a future here — a happy one,”

She does not want to get into this with him, doesn’t want to consider just how right he might be, doesn’t want to look any deeper for why she wants to run back to New York, so she reaches for the nearest thing she can to push him away, “Let me guess — with you?”

It hits the mark, and before Emma can even start to feel guilty at the look on his face, the look she put there, Zelena interrupts, drawling sarcastically, and Emma has no patience for her, the weeks of frustration that had been building in her, the fear for Henry, for her parents, for her sibling, the anger for Neal and Hook —

“Next time you try taking my power, why don’t yo try enchanting the lips of someone I’ll actually kiss,” she snaps at her.

“See, Emma, you’ve got a decision to make,” and Emma’s just getting more annoyed by the tone of her voice, “You can keep your magic, which makes you oh-so-sad, or you can save the man that you can’t wait to run away from,”

She barely even has time to register Zelena’s words, to question her, before Gold sends Hook flying and into a water-filled well, holding him in place, and —

Her heart leaps into her throat, any anger she had been holding on for him rapidly fading in the face of him being in danger, and she’s running for him, grasping at his shoulders, pulling and pulling, but he doesn’t budge, he’s trapped and drowning and he’s struggling, struggling, and Killian is the one drowning but Emma can’t breathe, because his fight is fading, he’s falling limp and —

“Try all you like,” Zelena calls out to her, and Emma snaps out of it, turning to her, “you can’t free him,” and Emma thinks the coldness of her voice might just be worse than the mocking, because she’s staring down at them impassively, only the faintest smirk on her face, but Killian is still underwater, and she disappears in a cloud of green, and only then does she finally, finally, pull him free.

The relief is short-lived.

She’s calling out his name, but he’s just lying there, and he’s not responding, not breathing, she’s calling his name but he still won’t wake up and he can’t die, she couldn’t handle it, Hook, wake up, she thinks of Graham, thinks of Neal, and she couldn’t bear to lose one more person she cares for, and Killian, come back to me, she doesn’t even care if she’s begging, because he’s too still, he shouldn’t be this still —

Not this man who’s always so animated, who speaks thousands of words with just a look, who wears his heart on his sleeve, who feels and shows his emotions with all his whole being, who’s constantly emphasizing his words with hand gestures or his stupidly animated eyebrows, or his deep blue eyes, who’s smile and humor always manages to brighten her own mood, who had come back for her, who keeps coming back for her.

She can’t lose him.

She has nothing to help him with, but he’s still lying in front of her, Hook, she tries again, but there’s nothing around, and she’s out of options, but they still need her magic to stop Zelena, but Killian is dying, and she thinks the last time she felt this all-consuming fear was when Henry had been cold and limp and breathless, under the sleeping curse, and when he had given his heart to Pan.

She can’t lose him.

But without her magic, they’ll be out of options, out of weapons.

See, Emma, you’ve got a decision to make.

She can’t lose him, magic be damned.

Son of a bitch, she mutters, before pinching Killian’s nose shut to give him CPR.

(As if there’s any decision to be made.)

She feels her magic drain, feels the wrongness of it, but Emma pulls back, and he’s still not breathing, and she’s starting to get desperate and she’s cradling his face, and, Hook, come back to me, she whispers, she pleads —

And then he’s twisting, coughing out water, and Emma thinks maybe she could cry from the relief, she certainly feels herself slump over a bit, and her hand comes up to cradle the back of his head just before it slams back on the ground, and he’s saying her name, and it’s shaky, it’s weak, still just a bit waterlogged, but Emma can’t remember the last time she felt so relieved, so happy to hear someone just say her name, but Hook’s hand comes up to his lips and —

“What did you do?” he asks roughly, “What did you do?” because of course he cares more about her magic than his own life, because he’s so ridiculously selfless despite what he pretends, because she had been furious at him just minutes before, had told him she couldn’t trust him anymore, didn’t give him the benefit of the doubt, because she keeps pushing him away, keeps running from him even when he’s the easiest person to talk to, confide in — maybe because he’s the easiest person to talk to.

But she won’t take this from him, not now, not when she had nearly lost him, not when she can’t bear to lose anyone else she cares for, not when all she could think of when he lay limp and lifeless was how much he means to her, his smiles and jokes and sarcasm and cynicism and even his damn broodiness, how much she couldn’t stomach the idea of losing him, losing what he is to her, even if she doesn’t know what that is yet.

Right now, right this moment, all that matters to her is that Killian is still alive, that Killian is breathing, and she’ll bask in this for now.

15.

David’s calling her.

She should answer, but she can’t think of anything to say to him, doesn’t particularly want to talk to him about this, doesn’t want to try to get him to understand. You’re making a mistake, Hook calls out, because of course he’d be the one to come after her, to follow her, and if she didn’t to speak to David about this, she definitely doesn’t want to speak to Hook, who’s far too good at knowing how to push her.

“Don’t listen to me, listen to your son,” he says, undeterred, slowing only once he’s reached her, “he thought this,” and he pulls out the stupid, goddamn storybook out of his satchel, holding it out to her, “might remind you of what you’re leaving behind — your family.”

“Henry is my family, and I am taking him where he is safe.”

“No, Swan, safety first nonsense is just that. You defeated the bloody Wicked Witch, you defeated Pan, you broke the curse — but you keep running. What are you looking for?”

Because he always seems to know that there’s more, always manages to read her fears, and really, there isn’t much point in lying to him, either, so she answers quietly, home, hopes he’ll leave it at that. Except he never does. “And that’s in New York?” he questions doubtfully. “That wasn’t real,”

Except the last year, the last year when she had some semblance of a normal life, with her son and a job (a guy she loves), and yeah, they were fake memories, but she and Henry can go back and make new memories, make it real, make it feel like home, but Hook shakes his head, “Why can’t you do that here, with your entire family?”

And her eyes fall to the storybook he’s still holding out to her, and she’s reminded, again, of the story her parents were telling her new brother, some ridiculous first meeting with a robbery, and ogres, and knights, of magic and True Love, and Emma?

Emma is no fairytale story, no outlandish adventures, no balls and gowns and crowns and ruling kingdoms — just foster home after foster home, either unwanted by the family or she herself making the decision to leave, to run. She was just a bailbonds person with a criminal record and a son from a teenage pregnancy, and she may have magic, may be from True Love, or whatever else fairytale story she hears, but that’s all they are — stories — and she snatches the book from his hands impulsively, “Because of this! I don’t see my family here, I see... fairytales, I see stories of princes and princesses and — that’s not me. I was never a part of any of this,”

Because Emma feels that if anyone can understand her, it is Hook. “Then what are you a part of, Swan?” he asks gently, because her instincts about him are rarely wrong, and she realizes, suddenly just how swapped their positions are now from the year before, when she told him he could become a part of something rather than going off and being alone.

He had done it, had helped them rescue Henry from Neverland, had found her and returned her memories, brought her to her parents, stood and helped and fought at her side, and is now — one of the heroes. And now he sits with her, asks if she is a part of something, if she would rather try and be a part of something or go off and do what she does best. “Besides being with Henry, I don’t think I’ve ever been a part of anything,” she answers him honestly.

“But you could be,” Killian finally moves to sit beside her.

Emma sighs, shutting the book, turning to face him properly. “Look, when I was a kid, I ran away, it’s just what I did,” she would get no judgement from him, she knows this, “The first time I did it, I had the same exact thought. I wondered, what if I’m making a mistake, what if I miss this place?”

“And did you?”

“Not the first time. Not any time.”

“So you just keep running,” and Emma can’t quite figure out what’s in his voice, but she has never found a home, never found a place she missed when leaving, and home is the place, when you leave, you just miss it, and she couldn’t miss what she never even remembered she had, couldn’t miss her parents or Storybrooke or Hook, not the past year, couldn’t remember if she ever, truly regretted running from some place, something, someone, and really, she doesn’t even miss New York, only the vague idea of a normal life, and until she feels that? She’ll just keep moving, keep running, keep her walls high up, keep doing what she does best, keeps being alone.

“So you’re just going to leave your parents then? Don’t you even care about them? Or anyone in this town?”

He’s not talking about the town. Emma knows this as well as she knows he had been talking about himself in New York, perhaps there’s a man that you love, but does he really not know? She still remembers him cold and lifeless, not waking up no matter how hard she shakes him, how loud she calls his name, still remembers the cold terror that she might lose him, remembers all the drinks they shared, the times he was her first thought when looking for someone to take care of Henry, remembers him sitting across from her in an empty diner, the weight of his curse leaving him distant, snappish, and all she had wanted was to hear him tease her again.

She thinks sometimes he is the only one she wants to talk to, thinks he might be the only one she feels comfortable telling all of this to, thinks she’s —

She’s leaving, but she doesn’t want him to doubt, “Of course I care. I just have to do what’s right for me, and Henry, and —”

There’s a great, glowing beacon reaching up to the sky, and she’s up and heading towards it before she even registers getting up from the bench, and, again, Hook is up and calling after her, chasing her.

16.

“You might not be able to move, Swan,” Hook starts, sounding mildly amused, “but you cut quite the figure in that dress.”

Emma can’t stop the pleased grin spreading on her face. You’re not so bad yourself, pirate, she thinks delightedly, but before she can speak, Midas approaches and greets them, who do I have the honor to welcome into my home, and oh shit, they hadn’t discussed aliases, and Hook is being absolutely no help, “Charles, Prince Charles,” she interrupts his stammering, “And I am Princess... Leia.”

Henry would be so proud, she thinks as she curtsies. They move in, and she’s been told so many stories, but now she’s living it, thinks of all the time Mary Margaret and David mention this or that ball and, “What’s the big deal about these things?” she asks Killian, but he doesn’t answer.

He doesn’t have to, after all, and Emma stares at the people mulling about in lavish clothes and sharing food and socializing, and stares at the center of it all, where people have paired up, dancing smoothly to the music, and it really is as fairytale as it sounded.

“You were saying?” he whispers teasingly, and only then does Emma realize she’s gaping, and all these princes and princesses, dancing with one another in unfamiliar movements — what am I supposed to do?

But Hook is taking her hand gently, slowly tugging her into the crowd, and he’s got a look on his face that Emma doesn’t want to name, smiling at her delightedly, blend in, and for a pirate, he doesn’t look remotely out of place, looks completely at ease with the situation, and hang on, wait, so many things could go wrong, she doesn’t know how to dance, and, “Wait, are you saying you know how to do — whatever this is?”

“It’s called a waltz,” he says cooly, settling one of her hands on her shoulder, moving the other to his false hand, and “There’s only one rule,” he continued, gently resting his hand on her waist, and he’s so close to her, their eyes meet, and and he’s completely open to her, another one of those moments when he’s completely dropping his pirate persona, the flirtatious bravado, letting her see that gentleman beneath, and he’s staring at her like he’s —

“Pick a partner who knows what he’s doing,” he grins and starts to move, and it isn’t difficult at all to follow his lead, because they make a great team, they always have, and that partnership had always carried over, whether it was knocking out giants, or getting around Neverland, or fighting Zelena, or even in quieter moments, when they are alone, when they have a conversation with a single look, or their easy banter, or, apparently — dancing the waltz.

He’s grinning at her like he just can’t help himself, and she’s smiling back because she just can’t help herself, and with Hook it’s so easy, and once again, she is so unspeakably glad that he is here with her, that she wasn’t alone falling through the portal, that he is the one who somehow managed to be by her side through this. She still doesn’t know if he had fallen in like she had, or if had simply followed her, because he always follows her, and she can’t think of anyone else she’d rather have by her side right now.

(she thinks she’s falling in —)

“Watch the mocking, I’m actually getting the hang of this,” she whispers to him, because there can’t be any other reason for why he’s looking at her like she’s the greatest thing he has ever seen.

“I’m not mocking you, Swan, I was just thinking about what you said in Storybrooke, about not being a princess,”

“Really,” she nearly laughs, “You get my first dance at my first royal ball, and all you can say is ‘I told you so?’”

“I believe what I’m trying to say, your Highness,” he corrects her, “is that you appear to be a natural,” she spies her father across the room before she can respond, and they quickly look away before anyone can notice them staring, and it isn’t all that hard to pretend to focus on Killian’s face, because she doesn’t have to pretend at all.

They dance, and Emma is helpless to grin back when Killian is looking at her like that, and Emma thinks the feeling of his hand on her waist feels right, and he feels good standing this close, and they are good together, they always have been, and Emma thinks that right this moment, the world consists only of the two of them, because she thinks she’s already halfway in —

17.

“But you can,” Killian insist, “All he said we need is magic, you’re the Savior, Swan, you can do it,”

“Not anymore, I lost it,” she reminds him, because she still can’t really feel it, can’t reach her magic, no matter how much she tries.

“When Zelena dies, all of her spells were undone, your powers should’ve been restored,”

“Believe me,” she snaps, “If I could make it work, I would, you think I’m faking it?”

And clearly he isn’t interested in holding back his opinions much longer, “I think not having magic makes it a hell of a lot easier for you to run back to New York and pretend to be somebody else,” and Emma thinks this is the first time he really gave her his own opinions on her leaving, gave her his true thoughts, told flatly and matter of factly, rather than just a vague disapproval and gentle persuasions to change her mind.

“But listen to me, Swan. You’re not. It’s time to stop running.”

Except Emma already knows this, has finally accepted it after one to many blank expressions, her parents looking at her, but not seeing her, of Ruby giving nothing more than polite conversations, of Blue’s knowing looks, and even the way Killian’s past self had looked right through her, missing all of their shared moments and connection, just another warm body to take to bed for the night.

“Yes, I run away, that’s how I’ve always survived, but believe me, I want this to work, I wanna go back. I wanna stop running.”

Almost immediately, Killian softens, “What’s changed your mind?”

And she remembers the way they were all helpless to watch her mom get executed, the way she had panicked, so scared of losing another loved one, remembers the way Killian had pulled her into him, remembers the way all she could do after was replay that single moment over and over until Killian mentioned his brother, until they realized Snow was still alive. She thought of the way she leapt forward to hug her mother but she had simply smiled politely before moving on, thinks of how her father had helped with her escape from Regina’s dungeon but barely gave her more than a curious look, remembers the way Killian had wiped her tears, the way she had watched her father fall in love with her mother, thought of what Mary Margaret had said to her so long ago, back when she had just been her roommate, thought about how she had been so busy trying to keep out pain with her walls, she hadn’t been able to let love through, either.

Not her parents’ love for her, not her own love for them, for her new baby brother, had constantly kept Killian at a distance because of how he made her feel, regardless of how little reason she has to not trust him, regardless of how much she feels she could someday return his feelings (especially because she feels she’s already on her way to returning them).

“I had saved and lost her, too. And that’s what I’ve been doing to her since I met her. It’s gotta stop,” Killian is only watching her patiently, encouragingly, and it just makes the words tumble out of her mouth, “When Henry brought me to Storybrooke, he told me I was the Savior. I didn’t see what he was really doing. He was not bringing me back to break a curse, he was bringing me home.”

And she misses it. Misses the loft, misses the diner, the clocktower and library, misses the docks and the forests, and her parents and her brother, and Henry, misses the grilled cheese and onion rings, misses the cocoa with cinnamon, the coffee at the sheriff’s station, misses the feel of magic and Leroy’s screaming about danger, misses it all, and Neal was right, because she feels at home in Storybrooke, at home with Henry and her parents and her brother and she wants to go home, because “Being with my parents these last few days but not really being with them — I’ve never missed them more.”

She’s ready to accept it now. “Storybrooke — it’s my home,”

But Killian is smiling down at her, knowing and proud, and she doesn't know why he’s smiling, but it’s Killian and she can’t help but return his smile. “What?”

“Look down,” is all he says, still looking entirely to proud and pleased and smug, and the wand is working, and she’s just staring, looking back at him to see if it really is, if she really does — “I’d say you’ve got your magic back,” he says simply. “Now, shall we go?”

18.

Emma’s home. Emma’s home, and she’s called her parents mom and dad and Henry is delighted by the fact that they're staying now, and she is too, except —

Except something isn’t right, something is missing, someone is missing, and she has told the story of her fairytale adventure, has shared her success to he mom and her dad and Henry, and even her baby brother but —

But Killian, who had been by her side throughout it all, who was the only piece of home she had left as they were trapped in the past, Killian who had taken her to Rumplestiltskin, helped plan Snow stealing the ring, who had taken her hand and led her to the dance floor, who had opened himself to her as they danced her first dance at her first royal ball — Killian who had pulled her close when she thought her mother was about to die, who comforted her and wiped her tears, who she is halfway —

He is not at her side now. She misses him.

He isn’t even in the diner. She finds him alone outside, and her heart aches at the lonely picture he paints, playing with his flask.

She does not want him to be alone.

“So,” she starts lightly, taking the seat closest to him, “do you think Rumplestiltskin is right? I’m in the Book now. He said everything besides our little adventure would go back to normal. Do you think that it is?” She does not even know why she’s asking this, just knows she doesn't want him to sit alone.

“He’s right,” he says, “Otherwise I’d remember that damn bar wench I kissed.” he eyes her slightly, and Emma has to laugh, how would that prove anything, because Hook had looked right through her as well, does not look at her like Killian does, like he’s in —

But Killian just smirks at her, looking unfairly attractive as he reminds her, “I know how you kiss. I’d have gone after her. But I didn’t, my life went on exactly the same as before.”

“Must’ve been the rum,” she murmurs, because he isn’t lying.

“Everything’s back to normal. You’re a bloody hero, Swan,”

“So are you,” she reminds him, because sometimes it seems he needs the reminding, and he only chuckles, only looks away, but Emma won’t let him dismiss it that easy, not when he has done so much for her and for her family, not when he had brought her back from New York, “I wanted to thank you, Killian.”

He looks up, meets her eyes, and he looks so confused, as if she has no reason to thank him, and it just makes her want to push this further, regardless of the more dangerous territories the conversation might head towards. “For going back for me in the first place in New York. If you hadn’t —“

“It was the right thing to do,” is all he says, and Emma — Emma has wondered, for so long how, how he found her, how he tracked her down, for he crossed realms to find her, to save her, to bring her home. She’s been dancing around the question for so long. “How did you do it? How did you get to me?”

(Emma doesn't even know if she’s talking about New York or her heart.)

“Well, the curse was coming. I ditched my crew and took the Jolly Roger as fast and as far as I possibly could to outrun it.” he says it like it’s nothing, you outran a curse, but she should really stop being so surprised by him, “I’m a hell of a captain,” he laughs, and continues, “And once I was outside the curse’s purview, I knew that the walls were down, transport between worlds was possible again... all I needed was a magic bean,”

“Those are not easy to come by,” he shifts, then, looks away from her, looks uncertain and melancholic and suddenly, Emma feels that she is missing something major, and Killian looks like he doesn’t want her to press anymore, but —

“They are if you’ve got something of... value to trade.”

“And what was that?” she asks lightly. How many doubloons or jewels or gold and treasure —

“Why the Jolly Roger, of course.” he says as if it’s obvious, as if it’s something anyone would do, as if it was just another object, another piece of jewelry, like it wasn’t possibly one of the biggest sacrifices he could make, and Emma —

Stares.

Stunned.

Because he’s plastered on a forced smile, kept his tone light, because he’s trying to shrug it off like it’s nothing, trying to keep his bravado up, as if it’s —

Maybe she heard wrong, you traded your ship for me, but he only drops the act, and he’s staring at her, honest, “Aye.” and she knows, knows what this means to him, to her, knows he’s giving her his heart to keep or break, knows he likely wouldn’t care either way, because he came back for her, took her to Neverland, helped save her father’s life, helped save Henry’s life, and he bore his heart to her for the first time on the beanstalk, and again under the decks of his ship, in Neverland, at the town line, in New York, in the forests of Storybrooke, in the past, knows she has had his heart for so long now, and she knows he wouldn’t break her heart because he is who he says he is.

Because he’s saying it not to gain favor but simply because she had asked and he didn't want to lie. Because she thinks she might already be halfway in love with Killian Jones. Because she’s tired of denying that she couldn't bear to lose him in her life.

So she kisses him, and he doesn’t even move until her lips are pressed to his, letting her take the lead and they are kissing for the first real time, because Neverland was passion and attraction and heat of the moment, but now, now doesn't kiss him for his ship, or as thanks or for some diversion tactic, she kisses him because she can’t bear not to, because as much as she had buried away her weaknesses, as much as she put up mile high walls around her heart, he sees right through them, and waits patiently for the ones he can’t get past, and she wants to let him in.

They stop for a breath and she smiles at him, because it’s perfect, and he smiles in return, and this time he is the one leaning in, and Emma’s letting down her walls to love her family, to love her home, to someday, maybe, love Killian, and she’s letting down her walls to be loved in return, and she has never felt more safe, has never felt more at peace.

She thinks she’s finally ready to take that chance and let him in.

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Love or Duty by GleefullyCaptainSwan - Chapter 5/8

Read on AO3: | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Or on FF

Stacy's Tortured Crew: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jrob64 @jonesfandomfanatic @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx @therooksshiningknight @batana54 @superchocovian @onceratheart18 @ultraluckycatnd @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @the-darkdragonfly @xsajx @deckerstarblanche

Chapter 5: A Dangerous Game

Emma spent the next few days locked away in her chambers, only leaving the room for supper. Anytime she came in contact with Killian, she would bow, keeping her eyes away from his, and retreating back to the safety of solace as soon as she was able.

It wasn’t that Emma had never kissed a man before, though she had never seen one naked, that much was certain. Seeing him strip down in front of her, exposing himself to her without remorse, had caused sensations she had never experienced before. She knew she never should have followed him into the water that night. She was never one to back down from a challenge and once he had pressed forward, she had no choice but to follow suit.

She knew that was ridiculous, she always had a choice. Yet with Killian, she wanted to rise to meet him where he was. He pushed her in a way that no other man had done before. She wanted to prove herself to him, to prove that she was more than just a Princess being offered to a man as a trophy to collect. Emma was capable of so much more; she was born to lead.

No one ever saw her that way, not her parents, she was sure that Liam saw her as a woman fulfilling her role, but Killian, he didn’t seem to back away from her strengths. He wasn’t afraid of her desires, her need to be more than she was thought to be. He understood her.

It was that understanding that should have sent her back to the castle instead of into the lake with him, baring her soul, her body, giving into the desire she couldn’t seem to contain for the man. She couldn’t wait to return home to be as far away as she could be from Killian Jones.

There was a knock on her door, and she jumped from the bed as Ruby entered the room. “Liam has returned. You will be expected at supper.” Emma groaned. “What has happened? You haven’t stepped out of this room for days. You won’t tell me why, or what is going on.”

“I’m fine, I just want to go home. I miss my parents.” She said, only half telling the truth as she spoke. That was better than fully lying to the girl, right?

“Are you sure it has nothing to do with the reason that Prince Killian has been moping around the castle? Did something happen between the two of you?”

“What are you insinuating?” She asked with her mouth wide open.

“Just that the two of you seem to be not getting along. I know he has been most disagreeable toward you recently. Perhaps he has not enjoyed needing to watch over his brother’s betrothed.”

Emma frowned, oh he was enjoying it quite well, if she were being honest, but since she was not, she instead shrugged. “How am I to know what is wrong with that insolent child, I’m not his keeper. Let us ready for dinner, I do not care to discuss such unpleasantries.”

“Of course, Ma’am.” Ruby conceded and set about braiding Emma’s hair and helping to stuff her into her gown for the evening. When she approached the dining hall that evening, she paused, gathering herself before she entered the room, a smile plastered onto her face.

“Good evening, Emma. I apologize for being absent as long as I was.” Emma bowed her head to Liam and smiled.

“What news of Locksley?”

“Much of the town was destroyed. We brought many people back with us to take shelter until repairs can be made. I am afraid I am only home to replenish supplies before I must return to assist with rebuilding the town.”

“Do you need assistance, I may not look strong, but I can pound a hammer better than any man.” She laughed.

“I would not see you put in any danger. Father plans to send you home in the morning, Killian will see to it that you and your maid arrive home safely. I shall come to Misthaven as soon as the village is safe again.”

Emma frowned, wishing he would allow her to help, the people of Locksley had been friends of her father’s. They were good people. But of course, she was only seen as a trophy that needed to be protected. She tried not to take offense, Liam was simply thinking of her safety, but she wished she could be seen as useful in ways that did not require her to be put on display or locked in a tower.

Across the room, Killian seemed to pace the wall, watching the two of them as they talked near the table. Emma could feel his eyes glaring into her. She purposely cast her eyes on his brother, not allowing his steely gaze to distract her from the man speaking to her.

“I do hope my brother was a good host in my absence. Mother says his mood has been quite gloomy.”

She laughed loudly, ensuring that the entire room could hear her, knowing that it brought a frown to the skulking Prince keeping eye on their conversation. She reached out and touched Liam’s arm, “Well your brother is a bit of a child, isn’t he? He’s probably still angry that I was able to tame his wild mare.”

His eyes widened in shock. “You rode Jolly?”

“Of course, I did. She was most agreeable, a fine horse indeed.”

He shook his head in amazement. “Incredible. No one has ever ridden her save for Killian himself. That does indeed solve the mystery of his malady. He can be insufferable when he is angry.” He said with a whisper and a laugh.

Emma laughed loudly again, keeping her hand firmly on his forearm, her fingers caressing his skin as she trained her eyes on his. “Indeed.” She agreed and turned toward his brother, watching as he stormed across the room toward the large banquet table.

Liam leaned his face toward her ear. “Do not worry, his bark is worse than his bite.”

Emma flushed, visions of her escapade in the water, feeling his mouth against her neck, his teeth grazing her earlobe. She suddenly felt faint and reached out to steady herself against Liam’s sturdy arm. “I’m sure it is.” She replied in a raspy voice.

“Let us find our seats, I am sure it is almost time for supper.” He said with a smile, ushering her toward the large seat near the table.

~*~

Killian felt the anger rising in his throat the longer he watched Emma parading around the room on his brother’s arm. He didn’t know why he was behaving so irrationally; this woman was marrying his brother. She was never his and one night, one error in judgement on her part would never change that. Liam would be King, Emma would be his Queen, and together they would save Misthaven and Jonesboro. Liam would be the savior once again, and Killian would be the pitiful idiot who sat pining for his brother’s wife.

Emma laughed again from across the room and Killian found himself stomping toward the buffet of fruits on the other side of the room. He could not stand there and watch this charade in front of him.

“Does your town always supply this much fruit for a single evening?” Killian turned to his right as Emma’s handmaiden appeared beside him. Ruby was her name if he remembered correctly.

“We have been blessed with an abundance of a bountiful garden.” He laughed. “Father loves to show that off whenever he is able.” He added with a sarcastic groan.

The woman laughed. “I never had a chance to thank you for valiantly fighting on the road here. I am most certain you saved our dear Emma’s life.”

Killian glanced over as Emma and her brother continued talking at the table. “She seemed capable of handling her own. All I did was deliver her to the carriage.”

“Emma is an accomplished fighter, though she has not been allowed to use her skills in public. It’s not proper for a lady of her stature to be seen sparring with men.”

He narrowed his eyes, “But she does…spar?”

“Oh yes, she’s been known to meet the knights in the garden at night to practice her skills. Emma has never wanted to be left needing to rely on others to protect her. It’s important to her that she can protect her people and herself.”

“I’m sure her father just loves that.”

Ruby snorted loudly once the words left his mouth and Killian took advantage of the attention it brought with the crowd turning in their direction. His hand found its way to her back, guiding her toward the table as he glanced in Emma’s direction, her cheeks reddening, her eyes locked on the scene in front of her. Killian’s smirk grew on one side of his face. Perhaps his conversation could be both pleasing and advantageous for him.

“King David loves his daughter, don’t misunderstand me, but I do wish that he would consider her as the worthy and rightful heir to the throne.”

“You think she should be Queen? Doesn’t she have a brother?”

“Yes, Henry is still young, he could no more take over the kingdom than he could find hair to shave on his face.”

“A woman at the head of the throne, it’s unheard of.”

“It’s only unheard of because men refuse to see women as more than objects to be seen yet silent. I can assure you that Emma would be a most noble and courageous Queen to Misthaven.” She paused, horror filling her eyes. “But I fear I have spoken my mind too loudly tonight, courage brought on by too much ale, I fear. Please do not misunderstand my words as anything more than wishful thinking for my dear Princess. We are most grateful to Jonesboro and Prince Liam for the chance to save both of our kingdoms.”

“Do not fear, Lady Lucas,” he said in a whisper against her ear, “I think you will learn that I find many qualities of women worthy of more than just the place that society has put them.”

She giggled and he caught the glare of angry green eyes darting in his direction. Before he could dwell on his victory he felt a sucker punch to the face when Emma leaned over and pressed a kiss to Liam’s cheek, her hand resting on his chest.

The rest of dinner he brooded as Ruby talked softly beside him, he hummed an answer in the negative or the affirmative but did not spend much time listening to what he was responding to. Instead, he was consumed with anger at the game Emma was playing with him. She had no interest in his brother, he was sure of that. She was playing the part because it was what was required of her.

Even before Ruby had told him, he knew that Emma felt she was the rightful heir to her home. He knew that Emma was capable of being more than a trophy for his brother to parade around Jonesboro. There were other ways to win the fight against Regina and her army that did not involve compromising who Emma was. Yet here she was playing the bride to be with a man she had no interest in marrying.

It was preposterous to think, but he knew that there was more to his anger than Emma not standing up for what she wanted for herself. His anger was because she rejected him. It was irrational to think that she could do anything but reject him but having her walk away from him when it was just the two of them, leaving him there in the forest, tortured him nightly.

He could no longer close his eyes at night without seeing her naked body pressed against his in the moonlight. Thrice since that evening he had taken himself in hand, guiding himself to release while he remembered the feel of her breast in his hand, her legs wrapped around his waist, her throbbing center pressing against his stomach. He could do nothing to keep himself from that need, the desire to hold her, an insatiable need to have her.

He had tried at first to distract himself with a maiden from town, but one kiss from the bar wench sent him reeling with anger back to the solitude of his own bed and hand.

But now, lying in his bed, the anger of seeing her with his brother fully tearing him apart from the inside had him unable to sleep and unable to finish the task of satisfying himself. Frustrated with this turn of events he got up from his bed, pacing the room as he mumbled to himself.

He didn’t realize his intent until he had dressed in clothing and headed down the halls toward her room. He knew he shouldn’t be seen near her room; it would be a scandal if anyone were to find them together, alone in a room this late at night, but he needed to see her. He didn’t even know what he intended to ask of her, but he needed to hear the answer anyway, needed to hear it from her own mouth if she was as haunted as he by their night at the lake.

He knew it was not wise, he should go back to his room, but instead he found himself nearing her bed chamber, his back pressed against the wall as the guards made their rounds. He approached her door, pausing for a moment, one last chance to back out, to stop this ridiculous pursuit and retreat to his own room.

~*~

“Are you sure you are alright? You appear unsettled, quite unlike yourself.”

Emma shrugged as she felt Ruby unlace her corset, exhaling once she was able to breathe again. “I’m tired. At least we will be returning home tomorrow.” She sighed.

“Killian will be traveling with us; he was telling me tonight that he plans to join his brother once he has returned us home safely.”

Emma frowned, unsure how she was supposed to spend the trip sitting across from the man who was haunting her dreams. She was pleased with herself when Killian stormed out of the dining hall that evening, seemingly tired of the game he was playing with her by flirting with Ruby. However, knowing that her attention toward his brother had caused him such jealousy also caused something else to stir deep inside of her: desire.

Had he really wanted her so badly that he was brooding over the attention that she was providing to the man she was to marry. He knew that she had no choice but to marry Liam, she had no time for childish needs and wants. She had a duty to her family, her kingdom, her home.

“Emma?” Emma’s snapped her attention back to Ruby. “Did you hear me? I asked if you were alright if I went down to the doctor to gather supplies for our trip home. I want to ensure we have enough ointment for your wound since it is still healing.”

“Um yeah sure, that’s fine, I’m just going to go to bed.”

“Alright, I’m certain you will feel better in the morning.” She smiled and hugged the girl.

“Thanks Ruby, goodnight.”

The girl gathered her clothes scattered through the room and placed them at the trunk near the armoire. They would pack in the morning and return to her home. Ruby closed the door behind her, and Emma sank into her bed, pulling the heavy blankets up her body and tucking them under her chin. She wanted to disappear into the expanse of the bed, forget everything that had happened here and everything that was yet to come.

The creak across the room alerted her that she was not alone in the room. “Ruby? Did you come back already?” She called out into the silence and a shadow emerged from across the room causing her to sit up quickly. “Who’s there?”

The shadow got closer until it came into the light, the cause of all her strife tonight stood in the moonlight, staring at her.

“What are you doing in my room?” She exclaimed, jumping out of her bed, and rushing toward him. “Do you know what would happen if anyone found you in here, with me, like this!” She said anxiously, looking down at her nightgown.

“That night dress is quite scandalous, however I’ve seen you in less, love.”

Anger took over her emotions. “Stop that.” She said at an angry whisper. “Why are you here?”

“I needed to see you, to talk to you, about the other night.”

“I said everything I needed to say. That was a one-time thing. It can never happen again. I’m marrying your brother.”

“Why are you marrying him?” He asked and Emma’s eyes narrowed.

“You know why, it is our duty to protect our kingdom’s. Our union will bring our people together to…”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.” He exclaimed, stepping toward her. “You do not wish to marry my brother. You have no other duty but to yourself.”

She laughed. “It’s not that easy and you know it.”

“I can’t stop thinking about you.” Her heart stilled as he reached for her. “I’m haunted by the memories of your kiss; you plague my every thought and dream.” He took another step toward her, his hand brushing against her shoulder.

“You need to find a way to forget, I’m marrying your brother.”

“But you do not want my brother, do you? For all your theatrics this evening, it is not he who causes your heart to stir, your legs to quiver…” His hand was in her hair and Emma needed him to leave. She could scarcely hear his voice from the sound of her heart pounding in her ears. “Or the desire that pools between them.” She gulped.

“We can’t do this; we must put our people first.” A mischievous smile grew on his lips. “Our Kingdom demands that we do what is necessary to survive.” He bent his head to her neck, sucking at the skin below her ear and she held back the moan that threatened to escape her lips. “You’re being selfish, putting your needs above others.” She groaned and he lifted his head to meet her eyes.

“I’d much rather put your needs first, love.”

“That’s not what I meant.” She admonished him as he stared at her as if she were his last meal.

“I want you.”

She laughed. “You only want me because you’ve had every other woman in your kingdom. I’m a conquest to you, nothing more.”

His mouth pressed against her jaw and Emma could feel the warmth between her legs, the moisture pooling in her center as he continued his way down her jaw. She had never been with a man before, never knew that it could bring about such pleasure in the way that he was giving simply from kissing her.

“This is something more than a conquest, I feel it, I know you do too.”

Her heart was pounding out of her chest. “We can’t…” She protested once more as his mouth met hers and she could resist him no longer. She fell into his arms, allowing him to lift her off her feet, carrying her to the bed as he lay her on top of the pool of blankets, his mouth never leaving hers, his fingers tangled in her hair.

She tilted her hips upward, needing to feel something, anything, some type of friction between them. He groaned against her mouth, the sound of which set her body on fire, her lips bruising his as she fought to stop the burning between her legs. She needed whatever he could give her, wanted it so badly that she could see nothing else but him, the feel of his mouth, the touch of his hand, the cold steel of the hook on his arm that was pressing against her back. “Killian.” She moaned, frustration from needing something she couldn’t describe.

She felt a hardness against her center, happy for the friction it provided to her dripping center, as she rubbed her hips against him, eliciting more sounds from his throat that sent shivers down her spine. His hand was under her chemise, his fingers dancing across her breast, his thumb brushing against her hardening nipple. “Oh…” She sighed before she was alerted to the sound of the door, the heavy wood creaking against the floor.

Killian rolled to his side, sliding onto the floor beside the bed before Ruby was able to fully enter the room. “Back so soon.” Emma said, sitting up and yawning. “I barely made it to the bed.”

“Yes, I gathered everything we need for the trip. Get some sleep.”

“Can you get me water?” She asked suddenly. “I’m parched.”

“Um, sure, one second.” She retreated from the room and Emma tilted over the side of the bed, looking underneath to see Killian lying there.

“Go before she returns.” Emma jumped out of the bed, rushing toward the door.

He was on his feet, rushing ahead of her before he turned back to face her, dragging her into his arms and placing his lips against hers. “There is not a moment that I won’t think of you tonight.”

She smiled against his lips, “Good.” She stated before pushing him out the door and slamming it shut behind him. Ruby returned from the small room to her right and stared at Emma.

“Are you quite alright? Why are you out of bed?”

“I needed to stretch.” She said with a yawn, returning quickly to bed and pulling the covers over her head.

“Don’t you want your water?”

She pulled the blanket down, reaching for the glass. “Of course.” She drank the entire contents that were held in the glass and then fell back against the bed, closing her eyes and pulling the covers back over her. “Good night Ruby.”

“Good Night, My Lady.” She said with apprehension.

Emma’s heart was pounding, her mind was racing, her body was still on fire in all the places he had touched her. He wanted her. Killian Jones wanted her. She knew it was wrong, she should not entertain these thoughts, such wanton desire for a man she could not be with was irresponsible. In the end, she would have to marry his brother.

But as she closed her eyes, soft blue eyes swirling around her, his touch haunting her dreams, he was all she wanted, all she desired. And something told her that he would stop at nothing to have her. A thought which both excited and terrified her to no end. Emma Nolan had a duty to her people, a responsibility to unite two kingdoms to keep them from the brink of war.

But more than anything, she could not ignore the feelings that were threatening to grow for Killian Jones.

She knew if she continued to play this reckless game it would lead her to two paths. And she would eventually have to choose.

She could only have one.

Love or Duty.

[serenasoutherlyns]

Not a Summer Crush Part Two

a/n: enjoy part two I hope! any feedback will make me fall in love with you 12 times. this one features much hijinks!!

Part Two

Immediately after you hopped on your bike, you began to regret your most recent conversation, your tendency towards flights of spontaneity. It hit you that you had not only turned down drinks with Cabot and Novak's important friends, you had invited them to watch you get your boogie on with all of your airhead dance friends at a somewhat raggedy club in Brooklyn.

What. Had. You. Done.

With any luck, Alex would not mention anything to Casey and the two of them would go to whatever wine bar the other senior ADAs and fancy defense attorneys hung out at with Gillian Hardwicke and whoever else, tell them how weird you were being, and never look you in the eyes again. You tumbled into your apartment, raining papers, carabiners, chapsticks, and hair ties as you hung up your bag and helmet. You made especially sure to hang up the key to your bike lock because four times in the last month had seen you frantically biking back to your apartment for it and countless more had featured you searching through the jungle of tiny bowls full of coins and wires and keychains before you left. When you made it into your living room, two little hands wrapped around your leg, tripping you. Your fall was cushioned by your fluffy area rug, but you were startled enough to yell "fuck."

Leaving no time to spare, you heard a high-pitched voice behind you yell, "Auntie, that's a bad word!" You got up and scooped the little home invader into your arms.

"Léa," you said, "how did you get into my apartment?" The six-year-old giggled as you tickled her.

"I left Mr. Cuddles on your couch. Papa gave me the key."

"Well, did you find Mr. Cuddles?" You asked, and Léa held the teddy bear out for you.

"Yeah, I did, but then I heard you and I got so happy because Auntie is home!" You melted at that, grateful to have the girls in your life, without having children of your own.

"OK, sweet girl. Thank you for the welcome. Why don't we go surprise Papa?" You picked up the laughing kid and slung her over your shoulder, walking down the stairs to your best friend's apartment.

"Ash," you said as you opened the door. "I think I found an alien in my apartment. I don't know what it is but it's very silly." Léa protested, saying she was a girl and not an alien. You plopped the pile of giggles on the couch and greeted Ashley with a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Are we still going out tonight? The babysitter's still coming?" Ashley was juggling the two-year-old and a pot of spaghetti at once, trying to get the girls fed so he could have a rare fun night out with you and the others.

"Yep, Emma is on her way right now. And we," he said as he took your hand, "are going to dance all night long." He turned you around in the kitchen, causing Yasmin to coo in his arms. "And you, my Meena-Beena, are going to be the best little dance prodigy in the world, aren't you?"

You took her from his arms and spun her around again, saying, "If I have anything to do with it, though, you're still going to college."

"Natch," Ashley agreed with you. The doorbell rang and Ophélie, the 12-year-old, raced to let the high school girl Ashley had hired to watch them in. Ashley explained where everything was to be found, then the two of you practically flew out of the door. You changed into more appropriate clothing at your place, then caught the subway. As you traveled, you broke the news to your best friend.

"Hey. So. I may have invited a couple newbies," you told him.

"Shouldn't be an issue, it's open night and there are going to be like, 20 teachers there."

"Right. Um. Yes. But."

"What, do you have a crush or something?" You hit him.

"No. But they are my supervisors."

"Both of them?" you nodded. "Well, it's a good way for them to get to know you I guess?" You laughed nervously.

"Hopefully, they don't even come," you said wishfully. Ashley changed the topic and the two of you rode the rest of the way without discussing Casey and Alex-- but they stayed in the back of your mind.

---

Casey walked into the darkened room first, holding Alex's pinky with her own, pulling her in behind. Casey had been reluctant at first, but now that the decision was made, she wasn't going to be bashful about the experience. Besides, she had danced before, unlike her wife. Alex's upbringing had been so very proper and protestant, about the only dancing she'd ever experienced was the waltz that she and her fellow wealthy little kids had been taught in cotillion, then told never to do again outside of a ballroom. Casey, on the other hand, had been raised around all types, and had gone to her fair share of swing nights as a kid. Still, nothing like the way everyone was moving in the little club. The band was on a small stage towards the back of the space, and the room was filled bursting with beautiful women wearing flowing sequined dresses and handsome men in crisp button-downs.

Standing just inside the doorway, Alex caught your form first. You were wearing your favorite dance outfit, a simple red crop top with a silver circle skirt. Your hair was secured in a casual bun. Your tall (and, curiously, male) partner's hand sat firmly pressed between your top and your skirt. She watched, transfixed (like many others there tonight, you were often the center of attention), as he lifted and spun you around, quickly and masterfully. What was most beautiful, though, was the unreserved grin that seemed stuck in its place, except when you lifted your head back and laughed after your partner whispered something in your ear. Alex and Casey made their way over to the bar and sat down with two mojitos (neither of their usual drinks, but half the people at the bar had them. It seemed fitting), and watched you whirl around with ease and clear pleasure. Casey thought she'd never seen you look so beautiful than right then, in your element, moving as naturally as anything.

"So," Casey remarked to her wife, "Either Ashley is a man or Haley's dancing with another partner."

"Or I heard it wrong," Alex offered.

"She's stunning, isn't she?" Casey said, a dreamy, captivated tone in her voice. Alex replied with a sigh and a hum.

The two women didn't get all too long to discuss you, though, before you saw them and came bouncing (Rita Calhoun doesn’t lie) to the bar, Ashley following close behind you.

"You two made it! Alex, Casey, meet my partner, Ashley Laurent. Ash, this is Casey Cabot Novak and Alexandra Novak Cabot, my esteemed supervisors from the DA's office." Alex reached out for a handshake, but Ashley made a "tsk" noise and pulled her in for two kisses on the cheek.

"We kiss on the cheek," he said, the smallest hint of his accent (French, Alex thought) showing through, then did the same for Casey. The way Casey comfortably returned it was adorable to you, as was how Alex tried her best despite her stiffness. You saw Casey rub her thumb along the back of Alex's hand in a calming motion, and without meaning to, you traced your left thumb over your right hand. "I've heard so much about you both," Ashley continued.

"All good things," you interjected with urgency, knowing Ashley's talent for embarrassing you in front of important people.

"Pleased to hear it," Casey said. You could tell that Alex was getting nervous, she had the same look on her face as she did before a difficult case. You felt a pang of guilt for having invited them, worried that you'd maybe pressured them into doing something they didn't want to do, or worse, that they'd come out of pity.

Ashley could tell you were overthinking and wanted to make it either worse (for his entertainment) or better (for your benefit). He took Casey's hand and told her, "You know, my partner here is one of the best dancers in the state. I'm sure she'd love to show you some of the ropes."

"Oh, Ash," you said, then turned to Casey, "Only if you want to. And he exaggerates my talents."

Alex spoke up, then, to say, "Not if what we saw earlier was any indication." You couldn't help but scrunch up your eyes and nose, flattered and flustered and a little embarrassed.

"I'd be happy to dance, Caroline, but I don't want to steal your partner, Ashley," said Casey.

"Nonsense," Ashley said, "besides, I need a break, the kids exhausted me today. I'll stay, keep this one company." You couldn't argue with him any longer, and as the band started up the next song, you took Casey's hand and led her onto the outer corner of the floor.

Your heart sped up when you noticed Casey's subtle signs of nervousness. "No need to worry, half the people in here have no idea what they're doing," you said. You placed your hand around her waist and put hers on your shoulder, keeping a friendly distance between the two of you. "The trick is pretending like you're confident, and people will think you are." Casey noticed the way your voice went up as you said it, like you knew how she was feeling quite well. "And I usually follow, not lead. So, I'm out of my comfort zone too."

You had no need to say the last thing, Casey thought, as you showed her the basic steps. "It's also, really, quite simple. When I step forward, you step back." She followed your lead. "Good! Yeah, that's exactly right," you told her. "I wouldn't even believe you were a beginner," you flattered her. It was a little choppy, but that didn't matter. As you felt her get into the groove of the movement, you let go of her waist and spun her under your other arm. She gasped, quietly.

"Now, the real key here is remembering to move your hips," you said, when you took her waist back in your arms. "You gotta let them guide you. You head should barely move up or down."

"I think you lost me there," Casey said.

"Here, feel," you replied, moving her free hand to your own hips. "Notice how I let them swing every time I move my feet?"

That seemed to work (though you saw a quick moment of an emotion you couldn't quite place wash over Casey), and she was soon dancing with relative ease for a newcomer. Of course, she was in good hands with you.

Alex watched the two of you as you led Casey along the floor. From work, Alex knew you were dedicated and thoughtful, but she'd always thought of you as shy and high-strung, despite your unguarded countenance. You had no problems in court, but outside of it, you would trip over your words, avert your glance at praise; you wore your insecurities on your sleeve. You were always vulnerable, too. More than once, she'd seen you get teary in your office or when speaking with a victim. You were never the first person to leave, and you took some of the most detailed (yet nearly illegible) notes she'd ever seen.

There was nothing shy about the way you moved, the way you showed Casey how to move herself. She found herself paying attention to the way your hips rolled to the music, how you never let Casey know when she stepped wrong. It put her at ease, knowing her wife was in good hands. Everything about you looked natural, comfortable, free.

"How long have you two been together?" she asked Ashley, sipping her drink (it was very minty). Part of her didn't want to know, but that part was overpowered by her curiosity.

"Ten years this fall. We met her first year at Stanford, at a ballroom rehearsal. She was so cute," Ashley said.

"Oh yeah?"

Ashley nodded emphatically, a nostalgic look in his eyes. "She grew up in a really intense studio. She was so strict about rules, and like, crazy competitive. I used to wind her up on purpose, messing with my technique to get a rise out of her."

"I really wouldn't've taken her for a big rule follower."

"It doesn't come naturally to her, but she got good at it," Ashley said. Alex thought he sounded proud of you, like something about you had come a long way. "She's so much more chilled out than she was at 17. But aren't we all?"

Alex was amused at the idea that anybody would call you “chill” and attempted to imagine what you would've been like at that age with little success. Then again, you kept surprising her. The way you seemed as you danced was very different to how you were at work.

"Now, tell me, Alex. Does she really have to put in all those hours? You don't seem like the kind of supervisor who completely disregards work-life balance."

She thought of how to reply to that, not wanting to get you in any hot water at home. Ashley was right. Now that she was older, married, and caretaker of a sizeable plant collection, Alex took a healthier approach to hours. She also remembered being your age and working every second that she could, every moment that it took to be as thorough as she could.

"No, she doesn't have to work so much," Alex ventured. "In fact, I'm not even technically in charge of her schedule. Everyone can choose how much they work, as long as they're meeting targets. Which, unfortunately, means that we sometimes get people who just do the bare minimum."

"I'm sure Caroline isn't one of those people," Ashley said.

"She's not. She's one of the most productive and successful in the office. With the younger ones, for the first few years, they either take a while to get acclimated to the work and need babysitting, or they work too hard and need someone there to remind them to breathe." Alex felt bad that Ashley had clearly seen some element of stress in you that she failed to pick up on. She tucked that away as a conversation to have later. "I was like her. So was Casey. We both calmed down a little, but it took some quite, uh, extreme events."

Ashley, for all his disregard for the norms of conversation, knew when not to push people, and could see that Alex was feeling a bit on edge. "Would you like to dance the next one with me?" he asked, but Alex's eyes widened as she adamantly refused.

"I'm happy to just watch, you don't want to see me try."

Ashley wanted to push more, but he didn't want to risk alienating your boss, so he filled the space by telling embarrassing stories about you in college. When the band began winding down for their first break, the bartender played some pop over the stereo as the dancing crowd made their way to the bar to rehydrate. You and Casey returned to the booth where Ashley and Alex were sitting.

Casey slid in beside Alex, giving her a quick kiss. You sat next to Ashley, leaning your head on his shoulder. You let out a sigh.

"It's been a minute since you taught a newbie, Bug," Ashley said to you.

"Hardly," you replied, shooting him a glare for using your nickname from your college team. "Casey's very capable." You couldn't resist complimenting her, the way she smiled at you was too precious. "You were great," you directed at Casey.

"Please," she said, waving a hand at you and taking a sip of her mojito, watered down slightly by the melting ice. The four of you managed a very engaging conversation (thanks to your partner's valiant efforts) for the next couple minutes, until Ashley's phone rang.

"That is the babysitter. I'm so sorry ladies, I gotta take this." Everyone at the table took the opportunity to check their phones.

"Hi, Emma. Is everything ok? What happened? Is she running a fever? The thermometer is in the bathroom cabinet, can you check?"

You pushed your glass away and rubbed Ashley's shoulder, knowing how upset he got when any of his kids were in trouble.

"No, 99 isn't technically a fever, but you said she threw up? On Yasmin? Well, that's certainly gross. Um, no I wouldn't make you deal with that, here," his brow furrowed, and you started to pack up your things and his, surely you, too, would be going home to help. "Emma, I'm coming home now, should be 20 minutes or so. Léa's lovey is on her bed, if you get her that and wrap her up in a blanket on the couch, she should be OK. Ask Ophélie to entertain Yasmin and stay with Léa for me, can you? You're a gem, kid. OK, I'm leaving now, see you in 20." You started to get up with him, Casey and Alex looked concerned.

"Casey, Alex, I am so sorry to leave, but it was great to meet you two," he said.

"Léa was fine two hours ago when she attacked me," you said, addressing Ashley. "Alex, Casey, I'm sorry I got you two out here and have to leave so soon."

"What? No, you stay here, love." You opened your mouth to argue, but he insisted. "You have guests, and I'll be fine alone. Léa's always sick, and Phélie can watch the baby for me." You tried to help him again, but he wouldn't let you. You gave him a hug and kiss on the cheek goodbye, and he waved kindly to Alex and Casey as he hurriedly walked out the door.

When he was gone, you said to the other women, "I think he does too much. I work all the time. I wish I was there more to help." You played around with a straw wrapper as you talked (Alex noted, you seemed to fidget when you felt guilty).

"He seems like he's OK," Alex said, remembering how Ashley had expressed a similar sentiment to her earlier.

"Do you need to work fewer hours?" Casey asked, "because you're doing more than well."

You sighed as you thought of what to say. "Ashley's a wonderful father. No questions there. But I do think he puts too much pressure on himself."

"There's one thing you two have in common," said Alex. You only nodded in response, looking around the room. This was your happy place, and Casey and Alex somehow fit perfectly in it.

---

You all left the club right before the crowd started to die down. You were tired, and you knew Ashley would need a hug once the girls were in bed; plus, you could tell Alex and Casey were wearing out (you couldn't get Alex to dance, but you and Casey were on the floor together about half the night-- an old student of yours pulled you away from your table as the band began again, but you found Casey another partner for a few songs). As you rode home, your nerves were completely calmed. You realized that you had nothing to worry about in the first place and felt pleased at how the evening had turned out.

As soon as they reached their apartment, Alex took Casey's hands and kissed her, lightly at first, deepening when Casey parted her lips. Casey moaned, muffled, as Alex threaded her fingers through her hair and gave it the gentlest of tugs.

"We have a bed, Lex," Casey said, pulling away slightly.

Alex hummed against Casey's jaw. "You just look so beautiful tonight."

"I don't always?"

"Oh, you do. I just kind of can't believe how perfect you looked dancing."

"Well, you really have Caroline to thank for that one."

Alex made a sound that landed somewhere between a whimper and a squeak.

"Am I wrong?"

"No, you're right," Alex said. "That's the thing."

"I know," Casey replied. "Too bad she's apparently both straight and taken."

Alex giggled. "I mean, how would that conversation even go."

Casey nodded in agreement, turned on her heels, and pulled Alex down the hall, pushing her onto their very fluffy bed.

"'Hey, I know I’m 15 years older than you, married to Casey, and we’re kind of your bosses, but do you want to have a threesome?'" Alex continued in a low tone of voice, comically seductive, running her hands under the hem of Casey's tank top, pulling her closer with the fabric.

Casey laughed into her collarbone, welcoming Alex's lips as she kissed down her chest.

---

The next week passed quietly. It was a two-case week for you, one of which ended in a plea bargain, giving you more free time than usual. Alex kept bringing you coffee, and you kept running with Casey, though the weather was beginning to be too hot to do so outside (Casey, who was raised spending summers with her grandmother in Georgia, didn't believe there was such a thing; but your poor bay-area body was not suited to temperatures much above 75°). Wednesday evening around 8:00, when you were working late, tying up the details of a sexual harassment case at Manhattan Arts High School, you knocked on Alex's office door, hoping she was still in and would be willing to give you some feedback.

You heard a noise from inside, an "mm-hmm" that you took to mean "come in." You didn't wait to open the door, thanks, again, to your already limited inhibitions and the focus you had when you got deep into a case like this.

It was slightly too soon.

You quickly turned around and all but ran away, apologizing with what felt like every word in the dictionary. That was it, you decided, you had to quit. It was a good run, you thought, but you now had no choice but to leave, change your identity, and move to Spain.

Or something. Why wasn't the door locked?

You made it back to your office, just down the hall. As you fretfully packed papers into your backpack, you heard the click of high heels approaching you, caught a glimpse of blonde hair through the window. Part of you wanted to hide under your desk, but you stayed standing, hoping that if you didn't move, she wouldn't see you (not unlike a child attempting to avoid a bee sting).

Alex tapped her knuckles on the glass in the door, not waiting for you to respond before she opened it and came in. You started to apologize again, but Alex held her hand (her distractingly pretty hand) up at you.

"I am very sorry," she said, "that you saw that. In our defense, we were only kissing, and you usually keep to yourself after about 6."

You had trouble making words come out of your head.

"Anyway, Casey feels horrible. So, I came to apologize and see what you needed."

You continued petrified, wondering how Alex wasn't livid. You noticed a deep red mark on her neck--You noticed her neck.

"Oh God, did we freak you out that much, Haley? It's ok, you didn't do anything wrong. We were the ones making out at work," she said, trying and failing to resist a smirk.

At that, you were able to break out of your overwhelmed silence.

"Uhm," you began, almost whispering. "It's the Manhattan Arts case."

Alex nodded. "That one's tough. That's why I gave it to you."

You nodded, suppressing a squeak.

"It is. I don't know what to do because the complainant is also a co-conspirator with the perpetrator in another case."

"Right. Why don't you come to my office, and we'll all look over it together?" Alex saw your expression fill with fear again, the same kitten-ish look she'd come to know and love. It was painfully cute. "You don't have to. But we do have leftover pad Thai." That was enough to convince you, though you were still taken aback and shaken up.

You went to Ashley's apartment first when you went home that night. He and Ramin (home from his business trip) were cuddled up together on the couch watching The Bachelor, the girls were long asleep. You greeted the men, slipped your shoes off, and padded into the living room, sliding onto the couch beside them. Ramin turned down the TV and slipped his free arm around your shoulders. Ten years of friendship between you and Ashley had made you more than comfortable with his husband, though you'd only known Ramin for four. You three didn't need words anymore, they could both tell when you were having a hard time. You were glad Ramin hadn't seen everything Ashley had-- while you weren't very skittish about sharing your personal life with the people close to you, you and Ashley had been there for one another's darkest moments.

Ramin patted your head, mussing your frizzy hair. "Wanna talk about it?" Ashley asked you, but you shook your head.

"Tea," you said.

"Fair enough," Ramin replied, amused, rising to put the kettle on. Ashley scooted over to give you a hug.

You were in a far better mood after a few pots of chamomile and a few episodes of The Bachelor when you went to bed that night (well, Thursday morning). You were still confused, though. Something in your core warmed up every time you closed your eyes, the image of Casey sitting in Alex's lap, her hair messy, their lips pressed against one another, was stuck in your head. You were still mortified, that was all.

---

Alex made good on her promise of drinks that Saturday. Things had smoothed over since Wednesday; she'd left a cookie and a note beside your coffee on Thursday morning that read: Consider this biscotti your olive branch, and, well, who could stay uncomfortable after that. As they left their apartment, Alex sent a text to their friends reminding them that they had a guest that night.

Alex: Everyone, Haley's coming out with us tonight.

Casey: That means best behavior. No being cruel.

Sophie: ...Rita.

Sophie: We were all thinking it.

Serena: ^

Rita: I'm a very sweet person!

Pippa: You made Gillian cry last week.

Rita: That sounds like a her problem.

Gillian: It kind of was.

Pippa: 💖

Casey: Just, be nice to her. Please?

Serena: We will!

Rita: Fine.

Satisfied, they walked the short distance to their regular bar. As they approached, they saw you standing outside, looking up the other direction of the sidewalk and fidgeting with your keys. Casey noticed what you were wearing first, a black A-line wrap dress that showed off your shoulders. Alex, on the other hand, noticed you were wearing your hair in its natural loopy curls when you usually straightened it.

The way the setting sunlight hit your face as you turned your head in their direction caused Alex's breath to hitch in her throat. The way you idly brushed your fingers along your neck as you tucked a curl behind your ear made Casey's mouth go dry. They shared a quick glance, their eyes talking for them, saying: we're in deep, aren't we?

The second you saw them coming towards you, you grinned wide and waved both hands, bouncing on your toes.

"Rita was right," Casey whispered to Alex, still out of earshot of you, "she's exactly like a bunny."

Alex squeezed Casey's hand tightly. You greeted them excitedly, resisting the urge to hug them both (where did that come from?) by holding your hands behind your back after you waved. They returned your greetings gracefully and led the way into their haunt, Casey, then Alex, then you.

Everyone else was already there, you were sure they must've gotten there before you. The bar wasn't quite what you expected; it had much more of a homey vibe than you thought it would. A mostly 30-something, professional-looking, crowd populated the place's tables, drinking mostly wine and whisky, talking over candlelit tables. You felt more at ease, now that you knew what you were getting into.

You were even more at ease when you realized that sat around the table you were approaching were all familiar faces. Honestly, if you had to pick which defense attorneys to spend an evening with, you could do much worse than Rita Calhoun and Sophie Devere. You knew Gillian would be there, and you were pleased to see Serena Southerlyn and Pippa Cox as well (you always admired the field of legal advocacy, you might've gone into it if the money wasn't even worse than prosecution. Pippa and Serena both clearly came from some amount of wealth-- you most certainly did not, and student loans called).

Pleasant hugs and hellos were shared around the table. Casey introduced you.

"Gillian, of course, you know ADA Haley, but for you others... Pippa, Serena, Rita, Sophie, this is Caroline Haley." Gillian raised her glass to you; Pippa gave a warm smile and a wave. Serena pulled out a chair for you, and you took it.

"Lovely to meet you, officially," said Sophie.

"We could use someone interesting," Rita added.

You had expected to feel anxious. You always did in social situations, and you had the Zoloft in your cabinet to prove it. And you did feel the familiar buzzing of worry in the back of your head. But something about the way Casey and Alex looked at one another and then at you made you feel safer than usual. It was a cozy, pleasant feeling.

Wait. Is that? Was it? No. Certainly not. Unless?

You let their conversations go on without chiming in much. Like you usually did when you met new people, you just watched and sipped your drink (gin and soda, your go-to. Serena had insisted on buying you a drink, Rita teased you for going with something so cliché but stopped after one jab. You'd seen Pippa give her a warning glare, thought you'd seen her squeeze her thigh as well, though that could just be your somewhat wonky eyesight). Noticing your anxiety, Alex gave you a friendly pat on the shoulder that made your stomach flip.

Eventually, at a lull in the talking, Alex turned her attention to you: "What's Ashley doing tonight, Caroline?"

Your expression lit up; you were always excited to brag about your best friend. "He's at the studio; he runs rehearsal on Saturday nights. His company is one of the best in the city." You could've said more, but you didn't want to ramble like you tended to when you were nervous.

"Oh. When do you teach? You're always at the office late." Alex asked.

You sighed. "I wish I had far more time than I do. I teach mostly workshops right now, one or two weekends a month." You saw everyone around the table react with some surprise.

"And you two didn't scare away the babysitter last week?" Casey added.

You chuckled in response. "I hope we didn't. The girls are usually very well-behaved, but poor Léa's always getting sick."

"How old are they, Caroline?" Pippa asked.

The only thing you loved more than bragging about Ashley was bragging about your nieces.

"Ophélie is 12, Léa is 6, and Yasmin is 2. I'm biased, but they're the brightest children on the planet."

The way you sounded when you spoke about the girls spun Casey's head. Alex had never wanted kids, and Casey had always been on the fence. But your clear pride had her feeling very drawn to you in that moment.

"Forgive me for saying," Sophie began, "But aren't you a little young to have a 12-year-old?"

"Or a 6-year-old, really," Gillian added. Alex wanted to say something, remind her well-meaning friends that, sometimes, people didn't want to discuss every detail of their personal lives with them, but she held back, knowing how composed you could be when you wanted. You paled, knowing where this conversation was headed.

"Oh, um," you said, "They aren't my kids, technically. Ophélie is Ashley's youngest sister, and Léa is Ramin's from his first marriage. Yasmin is Ashley and Ramin's only child together, but they have full custody of all three. But I've been in their lives since Ophélie was 4." You saw the confusion build on Casey's face, her brow furrowing like how it did when she was focused in on her notes.

"Who's Ramin?" She asked you.

"Ashley's husband?" You replied, "he didn't mention him to you? He usually can't wait to talk about him."

The subtle confusion turned to true befuddlement on the part of Alex and Casey, both.

"He didn't mention a husband," Alex said. "I actually assumed you two were together?" Casey nodded.The other attorneys watched with varying degrees of curiosity and chaotic joy. You swore you saw Rita cover a smile with her napkin.

You realized the place where things had gone wrong. "Oh, oh my gosh, I can absolutely see where you would get that impression if he didn't bring up Ramin. He was pretty out of it the other night."

"You said you'd meet him at home when he left, called him your partner, kissed him," Casey listed.

"He told me about your first date," Alex added. Their tones were humorously incredulous, teasing. You could feel your cheeks heating up. This hadn't happened in quite a while.

"Dance partner. We live on the first and second floors of the same building. And well, you know someone ten years, you build up affection?" you paused. "It's an easy mistake to make. Besides, did he tell you how said first date ended?"

"No, actually. You and Casey got back from the dance floor before he finished the story."

You hid your head in your hands for a moment. "Well, I'm glad he didn't, because I'm not sure I could've handled the mortification." Everyone at the table kept looking at you, expectantly. "It ended with me coming out to him, then crying into his shoulder about it. So, no second date."

"It's all good, Caroline," Serena said, helping your nerves. "I'm sure Alex just wasn't paying attention. She's like that."

Alex shot her a playful frown. You felt at ease, more comfortable and wanted to share more with the group.

"When Ophélie was in preschool, I used to take her to music class on the weekends. I was still a junior in college, so I would show up to these fancy Palo Alto mommy and me classes with my backpack full of textbooks," you told, reminiscing on your younger years with your niece. "I swear, every new session, I'd walk in and another one of my professors would be there with their kids, the looks on their faces were just so priceless." Nobody seemed bored of you yet, so you kept going. "That little girl is the reason I became a lawyer," you said, in a more serious tone.

"What do you mean by that?" Pippa asked, her passion for protecting kids showing through.

You took a deep breath, not having meant to get so deep tonight-- but you opened up whenever Casey or Alex was around.

"When Ashley sued for custody, he had just graduated and was working in the ensemble of a dance company. I was a couple years behind him, but we were super close, and I was there for every meeting and hearing." You tested the waters, looking around the table to see if anybody looked bored. Seeing no signs, you continued. "And I remember just thinking the attorney was just the coolest person on earth. She convinced a court that this 22-year-old contemporary dancer was more fit to raise a child than that child's wealthy mother. She would work on everything seemingly tirelessly... she eventually found a way to prove that emotional abuse was occurring in the birth mother's home and that Ophélie would be better off Ashley's. When he got custody of Ophélie, I knew I wanted to be like that attorney, prove the supposedly unprovable."

"Wow," Gillian said when you finished talking.

Rita gave you a raise of her eyebrows, said, "Well, you certainly are interesting."

Everyone looked at you like they were trying to figure you out. Casey seemed to be on the verge of tears, and you were holding back some of your own. You sipped your drink, still thinking about how proud you were of Ophélie and the other girls, how lucky you were to have them in your life. You knew it was time to change the subject.

"So, Serena," you said, "Casey told me you two used to play softball together back in the day?" The whole table erupted in laughter, apparently at Serena for being a terrible pitcher.

---

That night, while Casey and Alex dozed off holding one another, Casey murmured softly to Alex, "Baby, you know you'll always be enough for me, right?

"Of course," Alex replied, her voice sleepier than her wife's. "I love you, Case."

---

[let-it-raines]

Shamelessly sending in a prompt 🤷‍♀️ Was listening to the new song “One Night Standards” and could totally see it as Emma talking to Killian (obviously the universe doesn’t want him to only be one night because she keeps running into the man EVERYWHERE) thanks so much for taking these prompts and being such an amazing inspiration for cs ff writers. hope all is well with you and yours! I’d imagine quarantine makes for some amazing baby cuddles ❤️🥰

@capthamm you are such a sweetheart! Thank you for this very, very sweet message. I don’t think I’m an inspiration to any CS writers, but it does mean a lot that you would say that! Thank you! And baby snuggles are pretty much the main thing getting me through each day, so I’m very grateful for them on top of so many other things 💕

I hope all is well with you as well. I hadn’t heard the song until you sent this in, and I think I may have ended up going in a slightly different direction than it. lol. I hope you enjoy!

found on ao3 | here |

-/-

No.

Just no.

No, no, no, no.

Nope.

Nada.

A big fat no.

Absolutely not.

No way.

“Why do you look like you just ate a lemon?”

Emma turns on her stool to look at Mary Margaret next to her. Her hair is still perfectly coiffed, her makeup not having melted away, and it looks like she just got ready. Emma, however, can feel the sweat dripping down the back of her neck from all of the bodies in here and the summer air of New York seeping in, and she is probably as hot of a mess physically as she is emotionally. They’ve been here for an hour, maybe a little less, and in that time, Mary Margaret has been slowly sipping on one glass of wine while Emma downed two whiskey sours. Then again, Emma has always been more of a drinker than her, and her tolerance is higher.

None of that really matters, but if Emma ignores Mary Margaret for long enough, maybe the question will go away.

“Emma?”

Or not.

“I have no idea what my face looks like, but I’m pretty sure it doesn’t look like I just ate a lemon.”

“Your lips are pursed and your nose is all scrunched up. That’s what you look like when you eat a lemon.”

“You spend too much time with me if you know what I look like then.”

Mary Margaret laughs next to her and takes another sip of the never-ending wine. “You have lived with me for six years. I pick up on things.”

Emma hums and taps her fingers against the bar top. Does she want another drink? Does she want to go dance? Does she want to go home?

Does she want to walk over to the guy who has been staring at her for the past ten minutes?

No, she reminds herself, no she does not.

That was a one-time thing, and she meant it when she said it as she was walking out his apartment door.

But then he walked into this bar fifteen minutes ago in the same pair of tight black jeans and a gray t-shirt, his hair very obviously carefully styled, and she got a small glance of his smile in the darkness of the bar.

Damn.

But no. She doesn’t do more than one-night. Not anymore, and he can look all she wants, she’s not going over there.

She’s not here for that anyways. It’s a Friday, she had a stressful week at work, and she just wanted to get a drink or two with her friends.

Ruby, however, has gone off, and they probably won’t be seeing her again until she sends them the information of the person she’s going home with.

“I will try not to look like I ate a lemon,” Emma promises with a smile. “Do you know where Ruby is?”

“She’s actually with Whale.”

“No,” Emma gasps, spinning around to scan the crowd. “Whale is here? And she’s with him? We’re letting her be with him? Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“I figured we’d let her have her fun for one night.”

Emma turns back around to gape at Mary Margaret. “Are you okay? Do you have a fever? Did David break up with you so you’ve lost your mind? What’s happening?”

She giggles and shrugs her shoulders. “I think David is going to propose. He – ”

“Another whiskey sour for you,” the bartender says, sliding a drink in front of her.“Oh, I didn’t order this.”

The guy nods his head toward the other end of the bar. “Jones sent it to you. I can tell him to fuck off if you want. There was something about it being a one-time thing, too, but I forgot.”

Jones.

Jones knows the bartender at her favorite bar. Great. That’s just great.

“Thanks,” Emma finally mumbles. “You don’t have to tell him to fuck off.”

“Damn. I was really hoping I got to do that.”

Emma laughs. Oh, she likes this new bartender. “Tell you what, you can tell him to fuck off. I’m not sending him a drink, though.”

He whistles. “You’re making my dreams come true tonight, lass.”

And then he’s walking away, and she’s left with an absolutely beaming Mary Margaret. “So,” Emma quickly says, “what makes you think he’s going to propose?”

She’s waved away. “Who sent you the drink?”

“No one.”

“It was obviously someone. Who was it?”

“You’ll be mad at me if I tell you.”

“Emma,” Mary Margaret sighs, “a one-night stand?”

“Ruby is going to go home with Victor and you’re judging me for having a one-night stand?”

“I’m not judging. I would never judge. I’m simply trying to say that there’s nothing wrong with finding a genuine connection. It’s a great thing.”

Emma takes a sip of her new drink. “So, David? Proposing? Let’s talk about that.”

-/-

She sleeps with the guy again.

She doesn’t know how it happened, not really. One minute she’s talking to Mary Margaret about the possibility of David proposing, and then the next, Jones is somehow sitting next to her talking to them both. He knows David, apparently, and Emma thinks that just her luck.

She doesn’t need to know anything about him.

The only things she needs to know is that she’s attracted to him and that he’s not a serial killer.

Both are true.

At least, she hopes.

Because she went home with him again, but really, it’s going to be the last time.

One night. That’s the limit.

Even if it was two in this case.

-/-

David proposes to Mary Margaret two weeks later.

Emma gets to witness it all from her spot behind a tree where she’s holding a camera and document everything. She completely and totally feels like she’s going to get arrested for being a creep, but she doesn’t.

Instead she gets to watch two of her best friends get engaged. It’s not something she’s interested in, but the two of them deserve something like that.

She’s happy. For them at least.

Good people should have good things.

-/-

There’s a party at their apartment immediately afterward.

And because the world is out to get her, Killian Jones is there.

She lives in a city with millions of people, and yet this guy keeps showing up.

How is that possible?

Emma knows too much about him now, too. She knows his full name and that he’s a cop. She knows his preferred drink and that he’s friends with the new bartender, Will, because they live together.

It’s too much already.

“Swan,” he greets, sliding into her space so she gets a whiff of familiar cologne.

Great. She knows the cologne he wears now, too.

“Jones.”

“Fancy seeing you here.”

“Well, it is my apartment.”

Killian clicks his tongue. “I know.”

Heat rushes to her face, but she wills it away. This is not a man who she will let herself be bothered by even if he is constantly doing his best to bother her.

“How is it that I’d never heard of you before, love? You and David are obviously close, and he’s always telling stories. Why is the great Emma Swan a mystery?”

Emma turns to look at him and those stupid blue eyes she was so mesmerized by the first night. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Perhaps I would.”

And, really, the decisions she makes that night shouldn’t surprise her, not with the decisions she’s been making lately. Work has been stressful. She’s been looking for this guy for close to three months now, and she can’t find him. it would cover rent and bills and this new pair of boots she’s been looking at with money left over. Plus, she saw Neal last week. He was sitting in Granny’s with whoever he’s dating now, and she really did not need that when all she wanted was some onion rings.

So maybe it’s easier for her to keep falling back into bed with this guy she doesn’t know but knows well enough to know that he knows exactly how to push her to the edge with deft movements and careful words that send shivers down her spine.

And maybe, just maybe, if she doesn’t think about it too much, it won’t be a problem.

-/-

It’s a problem.

Emma’s been casually sleeping with Killian Jones for a month now.

It’s great. It really is. It’s fun and takes her mind off things, and God, it’s so damn good that sometimes she doesn’t believe it’s real. But it’s also too much because when she’s out celebrating finally finding her bounty, he’s there at the bar. He buys her drinks and dances with her, and she finds herself flirting with him more than someone who doesn’t care should.

He’s funny. There’s something about the way that he times his jokes and how they range between ridiculous and incredibly sexy, and Emma lets herself get lost in them so that she barely notices him mentioning that he has a brother or that he spent the formative of his life in England, which explains the accent that slips in and out. Mostly in, though, and she stupidly asks him questions about those years and about England and if everyone really does eat fish and chips all the time.

Killian asks her questions, too, ones about her job and her friends, and those she can answer. When it veers into talking about her family, she evades that by pressing up on her toes and sliding her lips over his, feeling the softness of his mouth mix with the rough scratch of his beard. This is easier, better, and really, they all have their pasts and their secrets. Neither of them needs to know when they don’t care if the other one is still in the apartment when they wake up the next morning.

-/-

Killian is making breakfast.

Emma can’t say anything about it, not when they’re in his apartment and not when she was the one who fell asleep before she could go home. And she especially cannot complain when, well, he’s making French toast, eggs, and bacon, and it’s been forever since she’s had a breakfast that was more than a protein shake or a smoothie as she was walking out her front door.

He makes some damn good French toast.

And it’s raining outside, some kind of awful September storm, and really, Emma could go home. She could borrow an umbrella or a rain jacket and rush out into the rain to pay a ridiculous amount for an Uber since the subway seems incredibly unappealing right now, but as the food settles in her stomach, the coffee warmly makes its way down her throat, and Killian puts Netflix on the TV, suddenly getting soaked to get home doesn’t seem appealing.

Plus, the blanket on the couch is made of the softest material she’s ever felt, Killian’s fingers are playing with the hair at the nape of her neck, which is pretty much her weakness, and she’s far too invested in this show to leave.

She has to find out what happens, obviously.

And one rainy day where Will is at Belle’s place so they’re alone and where she gets Chinese takeout for lunch at 6 PM can’t be that bad.

It’s just one day.

An anomaly in their relationship.

(Or lack of relationship, really.)

A one-time thing.

She won’t spend the night again, and she certainly won’t spend the day.

-/-

Killian has an entire stack of t-shirts in a drawer in her apartment, and Emma has absolutely no idea how that happened.

Well, no, okay.

She does.

She wore one home one time, some old thing that he got at a concert, and then a few weeks ago her shirt ripped in what Killian swears was an accidental result of him being a little too enthusiastic so she wore home a t-shirt from the Police Academy. But the others, he left here. She has never worn them. She would remember.

These are definitely shirts that he left here.

Because he’s stayed here.

Multiple times.

On accident, of course. Because it was too late to go home or the weather was bad again or because her apartment is closer to the police station than his is.

And sometimes he’ll get caught up talking to Mary Margaret when he’s trying to leave, but more often than not, David is here and they end up talking or drinking together as they joke about coworkers and their Captain and plan out David’s bachelor party which is apparently going to be a joint thing with Mary Margaret’s bachelorette party.

That was information to her.

While Killian isn’t David’s best man or anything, he ends up planning most of it with Emma since David’s brother is currently in California. And Killian helping to plan means that he is working with Emma on it, and that means that they get lunch and go to different bars for research purposes and spend far too much time looking for AIRBNB’s in different cities even though they know that will never happen because no one’s schedule ever matches up quite right.

They both decide there will be absolutely no gummies in the form of genitals, but that’s only after spending an entire night laughing after researching it and seeing all of the ridiculous things that people do.

But this is just for the wedding and for their friends. It won’t always be this way. It’ll be over, and then, well, they probably will be too.

-/-

Emma doesn’t bring a date to the wedding.

Killian doesn’t either.

Somewhere deep down in a place she’s not eager to explore, her heart and her stomach calm when she discovers that he’s here alone and that the only person he dances with all night is her.

“You know, I’m not really one for slow dancing,” she sighs as he takes her hand in his. “I don’t know how to do anything other than sway.”

His fingers tighten around hers while his other hand settles on her hip, warm and familiar and just right. “It’s easy, Swan. All you have to do is pick a partner who knows what he’s doing.”

“And that’s you?”

“Aye, love,” he smiles, lines forming around his eyes, “that’s me.”

They go home together that night.

Emma’s apartment is empty with David and Mary Margaret staying in a hotel before flying to Italy the next day, and Emma doesn’t even question when she and Killian share a cab back to her place. She doesn’t question when she kicks off her heels and he takes of his bowtie, leaving his shirt unbuttoned enough to show off dark patches of chest hair, so that they can stand in the kitchen eating cake they brought home while sharing a bottle of wine. Neither of them really got a chance to get more than a glass of champagne at the wedding, so while she’s pleasantly buzzed, she could easily sober up in an hour or two.

But in an hour or two, she’s sitting on her couch, her feet in Killian’s lap, and they’re talking about their exes. She doesn’t know how they got here. She doesn’t know what started the conversation, how it led to her hearing about how his first love died in an accident or her telling him an abridged version of all of the nasty, horrible ways Neal broke her.

She never needed to know about his exes.

She never needed to know about his past and all his scars.

He never needed to know about any of hers.

But now he does.

And now, somehow, she wants to know all of these things about him.

Now, somehow, she realizes that she already does know so much about him.

Emma knows the big things like what his family is like and stories from his childhood. She knows his romantic history and what he does for a living and why he decided to do that. She knows his goal to become a detective, and she knows that he’s constantly terrified of never being good enough.

She gets that. She feels the same way all the time.

Almost every day, really.

Though, if she really thinks about it, she’s never felt like she was never enough for Killian. Something about him makes it all feel comfortable in a way that she’s never felt before.

Emma has never been a woman who knows what true comfort with another person feels like, but maybe, just maybe, this is somehow it.

And maybe that’s because she knows the little things, too.

She knows how he likes his coffee in the same way that he knows how she likes hers. She knows how he eats his steak and how he doesn’t like onion rings, which she thinks is ridiculous. She knows that Killian always has on matching socks because he purposely only buys one type, and she knows that he gets his hair cut every four weeks without fail.

He always wears the socks when walking around at home, and she knows how his footsteps sound in different parts of her apartment as well as his.

Killian’s an early riser, almost always, and he’s ridiculously addicted to keeping up with his workout routine, which she absolutely hates. She takes care of herself, but she’s also someone who knows how to be lazy when the opportunity presents itself.

Killian Jones is very rarely lazy.

Except for sometimes at night when he watches videos on his phone or grabs one of the many books on his nightstand to read. He’s into mysteries and biographies of historical figures, and while Emma doesn’t think she’d ever be interested in any of his books, she listens when he talks and grumbles and complains about how something is going while she does research for work or quietly watches TV to not disturb him.

Disturbing him is a hard thing to do, but Emma does manage to do it. He says that she thrashes in bed and that her electric toothbrush is the loudest thing he’s ever heard, but that doesn’t keep him from getting her an extra one to keep at his place along with her preferred shampoo and conditioner.

She had to use his one time, and as much as she likes how Killian smells, she doesn’t want to smell like him. She had texted complaining about that, and the next time she was at his place, all of her things were there.

Emma didn’t even have to tell him what brands she uses,

The sound of his laugh is so familiar to her that she knows the different ones. There’s the one that’s small and frail, like he’s only laughing to be polite, and then another one where it’s fueled by disbelief and anger.

(She’s been on the receiving end of that a few times when they’ve argued.)

There’s the big laugh, that one that stems from his belly and makes his whole body shake with joy. It’s loud and kind of obnoxious, but Emma kind of loves it.

The one she loves most of all, however, is this gentle one that he shares with her when they’re in bed and the lights are turned off, all of the curtains closed, and blankets pulled up around them. He always looks so young then, like he’s twenty instead of thirty-two, and his smile is soft and kind and filled with a genuine joy that she keeps seeing more and more.

That laugh, this one that she only hears when her nose is brushing against his and his hand is drawing patterns on her bare back, is her favorite.

It’s the one she knows most of all.

It’s just for her, she tells herself, and well, she doesn’t intend on sharing.

Because she loves him.

The realization knocks her off her feet and sucker punches the air out of her lungs. She’s angry and pissed off at herself for letting it happen and so damn terrified of the feeling that she doesn’t know what to do with herself or her limbs or anything else. She doesn’t know what to do. She wants to grab her things and run, to cut off whatever this thing between them is, but the thought of that happening is a pain far worse than the realization that she loves someone again.

So Emma stays. She stays, and she keeps her life just the same. The thing is, it has changed so remarkably in the past eight months that she barely recognizes it. That’s not a bad thing, she realizes. It’s actually really, really good.

That realization doesn’t happen without several bottles of alcohol and Mary Margaret and Ruby having to calm her down and talk her up several different times when she starts to freak out. She needs all of that, needs that reassurance, and there are so many moments where she wonders when this is all going to end.

But then there’s that laugh, that one that’s just for her, and everything around her calms so that it’s just Emma and Killian and nothing and no one else.

Just her.

Just him.

Just them.

And somewhere down the line, years after that first night and the promises of it only being a one-time thing, Emma knows that she has never told a bigger lie in her life.

Because a one-time thing turned into absolutely everything.

[shot-tothestars]

Before you go.

Guess who just wrote a fic??? Me!!! Yup it took me 3 days to finish a 1168 words one-shot but welp...I’m not good with angst :’) (but I’m proud of this so :3) The title is just because this song by Lewis Capaldi inspired me a lot (listening to it in my dad’s car and imagining all the angsty scenes) 

ALSO A FRICKING HUGE THANKS TO @anabethtessahermione FOR BETA READING THIS, YOU HAVE MY HEART AND ETERNAL GRATITUDE <3<3<3<3

Hope you like it!!!

Summary:"He wishes he had noticed sooner. For the first time, he encounters a problem he can't solve. It's Ray after all."

Fandom: The Promised Neverland/ Yakusoku no Neverland

Pairing: (you could say) Norman x Ray 

Type: Angst, canon divergence

Arc: Paradise Hideout arc!/ King of paradise arc!

Warnings: Mention of suicide and mild spoilers (if you haven’t read the manga this won’t make sense to you XD)

Who would have said the sweet Astrid would write angst? To be honest... this my sec fic of this two, the other is in my notebook, is fluff and it would never see the light of tumblr :)

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"So, where is he?"

Her eyes darken and he really doesn't want to listen to what his brain is screaming at him.

"Norman I..."

Tears appear on her green eyes.

. . .

His eyes open up. The first thing he distinguishes is a white ceiling. He notices that his body is in a resting position (almost as if he had just woken up) and decides to stay like that for a few minutes, trying to avoid the dizziness that he would surely have had otherwise. Instead, Norman decides to take a look at his surroundings by moving his head gently and the couple of beds beside him, the mahogany wood flooring,and the infantile drawings that are hanging on the milky white walls set all the alarms on his brain because, without knowing how, he's back at that place that still gives him nightmares almost two years later.

How is he back at Grace Field House?

Quickly, his brain gets out of the shock and starts reasoning as usual. He gets to the conclusion that he must be dreaming (at least until the place starts to turn into the night terrors he is accustomed to). He sits down,grateful that he isn't experiencing any whirling sensation, and since he knows that none of what he is seeing is actually real, decides to let go a bit of his nerves, still paying attention to everything around him but with a more curious than afraid instinct. He starts to wander through the place. He can't say he hates it here, the house brings him fond moments that he refuses to see as lies. Still, he can no longer call it a home (even though he wishes he could). Staring at the old childish drawings that make him smile melancholic, the perfect made up beds that, in some bizarre way, he had missed and the "nut-brown" door, he sighs with a mixture of comfort and sadness, not knowing why he feels this way, and then decides to explore some more, maybe if this was those "lucid dreams" mama once told him about he could stop pretending for a bit (it had been so long since the last time he had the possibility to do something so carefree).

He quickly finds himself in front of the library's door he has spent so many afternoons in. He can't say he was expecting something when he opened the door and that figure was so connected to the place that the few minutes he took to approach him, take a seat next to him and give a quick look at what the boy was reading were passed without him noticing what was actually happening.

The moment his brain finally realized the situation, he almost choked on his own breath and instinctively got a few inches away, his fight or flight reflexes as active as ever.

The other gave a little chuckle and looked at him, amused.

"Why so scared? Have you seen a ghost?" His eyes sparkled charmly "Or was it just your reflex? To be honest, I thought it was impossible for you to get paler, Nor-"

He can feel hot tears running through his face, he's probably ruining the other's shirt and the whole stoic facade he has been working so hard to perfect doesn't really matter anymore.

Ray's alive here and that's all that matters.

"Don't be stupid" He gives little rubs at his back, awkward to comfort but trying his best. "You know the truth"

"I don't really care" he buries his face in the other's shoulder "let me be like this for a bit more, please"

He hears a little hum as response, a hand patting his head while the gentle strokes in his back continue.

Feeling protected was something he had missed for so long without knowing. His heart wrenches, his mind keeps trying to make him accept the truth, but he doesn't want it right now. Norman feels tired, has been feeling that way for what seemed like an eternity (even though it had just been two years) Asking himself questions he couldn't really answer, taking a role no twelve year old should, doing things that he could say his body was in a better condition than his soul. Being able to finally be comforted was, to say the least, nice.

"Why did you do that?"

"Do what exactly?"

"You know what I'm talking about, idiot"

"And I'm pretty sure you still don't want to admit the answer, idiot"

His heart gets heavier with that sentence.

He remembers discovering Ray's secret place, where he had hidden all he would need for his plan to work out. At a quick glance and with the knowledge he had, it was easy to figure out what the boy had been planning for so long. He remembers how his own lips let a soft smile, he wouldn't let him die, that was for sure, if the dumbass wanted to die, he would make sure to show him a million reasons to live, each for whatever reason Ray had for desiring to end with his life.

He, for the first time, had encountered a problem he couldn't solve. It was Ray after all.

"Was there something I could have said to change your mind?"

"What kind of question is that?"

"If only I had-"

He feels the hug being broken and a hot sensation in his cheek. Those dark green eyes covered by tears as well.

"Stop right there, I thought you were a genius, Norman" He can't look at him anymore, his voice hurts too much already. "Not some stupid with a it-was-my-fault complex, don't you dare to think it was or else..."

"You were hurting and I couldn't do anything!" His throat hurts, and his eyes are swollen but he feels strong enough. "I can't even tell for how long you had been like that and I was supposed to be your best friend!"

He can't control anything, not even his body. He feels so useless, what type of friend he was? How could he be called a genius if he couldn't even discern how much Ray hated himself, to the point of...

"That's because you two make it all better" The tone sounds so soft and broken he is forced to look at his face. He is smiling. "All the moments I had with you and Emma were the best in my poor excuse of a life."

He's about to open his mouth, but decides to keep it shut instead. There is a soft smile on his lips even though tears keep running down. He wanted to ask more questions, he wanted to make him realize how wrong he was for wanting to go so soon, he wanted so many things.

"It's already too late" He's opening the library's door. "It was nice to see you again, Norman. Tell the other idiot it wasn't her fault either. She's starting to annoy my "Eternal rest" and I want to enjoy it, you know"

The room starts to fade out.

"I'm looking forward to meet you two again."

...

"I couldn't Norman I-" She starts sobbing uncontrollably and he waits for the worst. "He's gone."

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If you read this let me tell you you are my hero <3, I would give you a cookie but I don’t have my phone so :’( anyways, THANKS FOR READING!!! <3<3

[justthehiddleswrites]

Should… | Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Emma Masters) | Chapter 4 |  ...I End It?

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Emma Masters

Summary: Five years ago, Emma Masters just landed her first big acting gig on a soap opera. While it is not much, it is an opportunity to grow. While out celebrating, she meets up with a fellow actor, Tom Hiddleston. While she doesn’t recognize any of his work, the two hit it off. Before they know, they are getting hot and heavy in the elevator up to Tom’s room. Like ships passing in the night, the two never manage to meet again.Now five years later, Emma is a heavy hitter in the prime time drama world and Tom is a Golden Globe winning movie star. Their paths cross again but things have changed. Will they do what they should or fall to their deepest desires?

This Chapter:  Tom expresses his concerns to Emma about Bryce but will she heed his words? And what happens when Emma’s birthday comes around?

Warnings: smut, vaginal sex, fingering, drunk sex, oral sex, cheating, unhealthly relationships

-

“I said he is the wrong guy for you.” Tom repeated through gritted teeth.

Emma furrowed her brow. “Who in the hell do you think you are?” Emma spat back, pulling away from Tom.

“Emma, Em…” Tom reached out. “I’m only looking out for you. Bryce…”

“No! You are only looking out for yourself! Bryce and I are fine!” she snapped back.

Tom sighed. He turned his back to her, calming himself before speaking again. He rubbed his neck as he turned to face Emma. Her face reddened, her fists clenched at her side. “I’m sorry, Em. I went about this all the wrong way.”

“You’re damn right you did!”

Tom winced. “I respect you are in a relationship with…” Tom swallowed hard. “Bryce. I won’t interfere. But I have feelings for you, Emma. And they aren’t going away.”

Emma unclenched her fists and her shoulders relaxed. “If you won’t interfere, then why? Why try to sow seeds of doubt?” Emma narrowed her eyes, studying Tom looking for signs of ulterior motives.

Tom ran his fingers through his hair. Why was he doing this? Did the whole thing matter? he pondered. “Well…” he started as he stepped towards her. “… it’s that I see how you are with him. You don’t seem like you’re happy.”

Emma frowned. She never considered she might be unhappy with Bryce. Sure he could be a bit much but he took care of her. “You don’t understand. I am happy. Bryce and I are happy.”

Tom took another step and took her hands in his. “If you are so happy, why didn’t you tell me at dinner? Or stop me from kissing you?” Tom gave a small smile as he rubbed the pads of his thumbs against her knuckles. The motion sent shocks through Emma. She swore that Tom’s mere touch affected her to the core.

“I… I… was going to tell you.”

Tom’s smile widened. “Before or after I kissed you again?” Tom leaned down and ran his thumb down the side of her face before tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear. God, he wanted to taste her lips again.

“Before.” Emma responded as she turned out of Tom’s hand and walked towards the door, her back to him to hide her blushing cheeks.

Tom grabbed her shoulder and spun her in place. “I need you to tell me we are okay before we go back.”

Emma turned and smiled. “Of course we are.” She gave his arms a rub with her hands. “Friends?” she extended a hand.

The word “friends” broke Tom’s heart. He didn’t want to be Emma’s friend. He wanted more. He wanted all of her. Every inch, every moment. He wanted her to be his and his alone. But he realized a romance wasn’t possible right now. “Friends.”

He took her hand and gripped her hand tight, pulling her into a hug. He kissed the temple of her forehead. “Please consider what I said.”

Emma nodded. They jumped apart as the door creaked open, one of the other men entered the room.

“Tom?” he hesitated as he stepped in. “Everyone’s waiting.”

Tom gave the man a smile.

“We’ll be right in.”

The man nodded and gave a curious look at the two of them before closing the door.

“Shall we?” Tom offered his hand.

Emma nodded and took his hand and he led her back to the room.

-

The meeting ran smoothly and everyone seemed enthused about the project. Tom sat across from Emma and she swore he kept stealing glances at her during the meeting. As everyone filed out, Tom caught Emma. “Lunch?”

“I can’t. I have lunch with Corrinne.”

“Another time.”

Tom nodded and walked off while Emma headed to her car.

-

The drive to the restaurant gave Emma enough time to consider Tom’s conversation. Is Bryce that bad? Emma reflected back to when the relationship started. Back in the beginning, Bryce lavished her with attention. Wined and dined her. Bought her presents. Somewhere along the line, things changed. Bryce no longer reached for the check. He paid less attention to her when they went out. Lately, anything and everything Bryce did got on her nerves.

But she also remembered the good things. He took care of her and made sure she always looked her best. As she pulled into the parking space, Emma was even more conflicted than ever.

Corrinne waited outside. If she caught Emma’s emotional state, she said nothing. They sat down and ordered drinks.

“So what's new with you?” Corrinne started.

“Do you think Bryce and I should break up?”

Corrinne spit her water back into her glass. “Woah! Where is this coming from?”

Emma shrugged. “I don’t know. Tom was saying…”

“Oh I see, Tom was saying.” Corrinne leaned on her elbows.

“It’s not like that.”

“Tell me what it is like. Tell why Tom Hiddleston has such a hold on you.”

Emma lifted her glass to her lips. “We slept together.” she mumbled into the glass as she took a drink.

Corrinne’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?! Did you say you slept with Tom ‘I’m carved from marble’ Hiddleston?”

Emma averted her eyes.

“When? How? Explain yourself, missy!”

Emma sighed. “About five years ago in New York, we met in a hotel bar. I just won the role on All My Heart. We drank a few drinks. One thing led to another. We never met each other again until that day in the restaurant.”

Corrinne slumped in her chair, overwhelmed with information. “And you told Bryce, right?” Corrinne questioned after several moments.

Emma choked. She didn’t consider Bryce finding out. “Of course not. And no one is to tell him. He already feels he needs to compete with Tom. We ran into Tom last night at dinner.”

“How’d that go?”

“I left for the restroom. When I got back, Tom seemed tense. And then today…”

“Yes, today. What exactly did Tom say to you?”

Emma recounted the whole exchange.

Corrinne leaned back in her chair and whistled. “Well, what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know!!!”

“You better figure it out because right now you are in a relationship with one man while another man is telling you he has feelings for you. And that another man happens to be one of the hottest men on earth.”

Emma slumped in her chair before dropping her head to the table. “How do I get myself into these situations?”

“Talent.” Corrinne snapped as the waiter walked by to place their food down. “Talent and the worst luck ever.”

“Clearly.” Emma shot her a glance. “But what about Bryce?”

“What about Bryce? Do you love him or not? It is that simple.”

Emma fell silent as she picked at her food. Was it that simple? She contemplated the question as she pushed the food around on her plate. She didn’t eat with so much on her mind. It should be that simple but it wasn’t; three lives at stake after all. Over the last year and a half, her life and Bryce’s became more and more intertwined. Ending the relationship would be ugly. Something about how Tom made her feel caused Emma’s stomach to flutter. Her skin burned with fire when he touched her. Her brows furrowed.

As Emma furrowed her brows in deep contemplation, Corrinne sat back and watched her friend toil. Once Emma got something on her mind, she refused to let it go until she came to resolution. Corrinne had learned to watched from the sidelines.

The two women finished up the meal and left their separate ways. Emma returned home, grateful Bryce remained at the gym. She need solitude to work this out.

-

The rest of the week flew by in a flash. Meetings and fittings filled the rest of Emma’s week. She found herself flustered every time Tom was in the same room as her. Tom caught her reaction; he smiled and laughed every time Emma stumbled or blushed in his presence. He never acted to Emma in any other way than of a friend, but the rumors still flew.

Every time the two of them entered a room, the conversation stopped for a moment. Emma noticed stares and heard sniggering from corners. Tom and Emma kept everything on a professional level but nothing stopped the rumors of something more scandalous going on after hours.

Friday arrived and Emma met the weekend with relief. Two days without the stares and whispers. Two days holed up in her house without a single obligation.

“Any big plans for the weekend?” Tom asked as he popped up behind her.

“Ah!!” Emma yelped at the sudden intrusion. “You scared me. I didn’t notice you.”

“Sorry about that.” Tom chuckled and ran his fingers through his curls. “But you haven’t answered the question.”

“Umm. Yes and no. Today’s my birthday.” Emma responded as she continued to pack up her things.

“Happy Birthday! I imagine you are having a big party with Bryce.” Tom choked on the last word. He hated saying the man’s name.

“Actually, I’m not, just a quiet evening tonight. I’m on my way to pick up the cake.”

“I won’t keep you. I hope you have a good weekend. And call me if you need anything. I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Monday. Thanks Tom.”

Tom gave a small nod and walked away with a forced smile on his face. He hated this. He hated not being with Emma. He hated that Bryce is spending her birthday with her instead of him, doing God knows what. The idea made him sick to his stomach. He hurried away so Emma wouldn’t see his face. He didn’t want to make the whole situation more awkward than he already did.

Emma picked up the cake she ordered weeks ago. A sugar and gluten filled confection but she didn’t care; it was her birthday. And for one night, Bryce could take the diet and shove it.

Bryce told her not to make any plans for the weekend and Emma hoped that meant a surprise party. Emma left that morning while Bryce slept and he didn’t respond to her most recent text on the way home. Neither did Corrinne. Bryce gave no hint what her present might be. The entire house sat in darkness as she pulled up. Her stomach flipped at the prospect of a surprise party. She steeled herself for the onslaught when she opened the door.

“Honey…” she started as she entered from the garage, switching on the light in the kitchen. Silence met her words. She glanced around the living area and spied no signs of any celebration at all. The place looked exactly the same as this morning.

Emma walked through the house. “Bryce?”

Nothing. “Bryce? It’s Em!” she called.

Everything appeared untouched until she got to the home gym. In the middle sat a rowing machine with a big bow wrapped around.

“You have to be shitting me.” she groaned.

The rowing machine. That was Bryce’s present to her. A fucking rowing machine.

“Real romantic honey.” she cursed as she flicked off the light and headed back to the kitchen.

At that time, she spotted the note on the island.

Last-minute trip to Austin. Got the big Primal Athletics sponsorship. Be back Sunday. Love, Bry

Emma turned over the note, looking for some mention of her birthday. None. She crumpled up the note and threw it in the garbage. As she pulled a wine glass from the cabinet, she punched in Corrinne’s number.

“Hey, it’s Em. Want to hang out tonight. Bryce ditched me to go to Austin. Call me.”

She tossed the phone on the counter and picked out a bottle of a nice red wine from her stash. After popping the cork, she gave herself a generous pour. Her eyes darted between the cake box and her phone. She took a big gulp of wine and punched in a number. It picked up on the second ring.

“Want to come over for some cake?”

[wootensmith]

Harellan

He hadn’t sought out the Lavellan clan members who’d arrived before the Inquisitor. He’d longed to, wanted to ask them how she was, what had happened when she came home bare-faced and bringing strange tales with her, how she’d convinced the few of them who came to make the journey on her word alone. But after a brief conversation, the same he had with all new arrivals, he’d let them go and they seemed to be grateful to be out of his line of sight. He resisted prying and left them to Abelas’s care.

Months later, a few days after the Inquisitor had found him, he caught sight of her speaking with a clanmate near the gates of Andruil’s waste. She appeared troubled as the man spoke. When the clansman noticed they were being watched, he said, “I’m sorry, Hahren, I can’t.” He slipped quickly away, hurrying toward the training yards. The Inquisitor looked after her clansmate and then turned and caught sight of Solas standing just beyond the stone owl and smiled uneasily. He met her, feeling he’d accidentally interrupted something vital. He wished only to wipe the discomfort from her mind. “It makes me glad to hear him call you ‘hahren’. You have more than earned their respect,” he said. A bitter laugh burst from her and she shook her head. “He calls me ‘hahren’ because he refuses to use ‘lethallan’ any longer and he’s too frightened to call me ‘harellan’. Especially here. It is not a compliment.”

He watched the man scurrying between the small watchfires for a few moments before he disappeared into the city. “They think you have betrayed them?” “Is it such a surprise, fanor?” she asked gently. “The stories that guided us— our whole history, our place in the world, our hopes for what was to come— they have endured centuries. You tried yourself to change them. What hope did I have of succeeding where you and the world have failed? Deshanna was kinder. She just believed I’d gone mad. The others think the Andrastians sent me to poison them with lies.” She touched her cheek as if to trace the absent vallaslin and then flushed and dropped her hand, embarrassed. “I’m not certain which is worse,” she admitted.

“Ir abelas, Vhenan. I never wanted you to lose them. I wish that you had not told them.” “I had to try. I thought— they were my home, Solas. My family. If anyone in the world should believe me… but I asked too much of them.” He crossed his arms over his chest, feeling the sorrow in her voice like a blow. “What did you want from him? Whatever he refused, perhaps I can do it in his stead.” She shook her head and her eyes filled. “I asked him to send Deshanna a message. To beg them to go to Skyhold until the end. But he does not trust me, even now, even seeing this place and you. For all he calls me hahren, he thinks I mean to harm them. Deshanna sent him to watch me, to shield me from the madness she thought I would succumb to. She told him that what I’d done in the Inquisition obligated them to protect me in my hour of weakness. That is why he came. And he stays because she orders it, not for love of me. I am a traitor, after all. To them. To Sera. To you.” She broke into a sob and fled before he could respond.

He was uncertain how to help. A message to Deshanna was easy enough. Whether she would believe it or the dream he constructed that evening would be another question. But if the Inquisitor’s clansmen would not do it themselves, he would make the attempt. What to do about her loss was something much harder. What betrayal could she possibly believe herself guilty of? She had been a kind and loyal friend to Sera. And to him— she had kept his secrets better than he had kept them himself. Brought him another way. Was trying to save them all. Harellan. How can she think herself so? The eidolon was dark and cold when he returned. He thought her still absent, somewhere in the shattered library or with Abelas in the training yards. But he heard a rustle from the crown before he could leave to search for her. She was in Vhemanen’s small room. It had been emptied when Vhemanen left for Skyhold. Solas had packed everything movable for her himself, wishing the riches of Elgar’nan’s foolish vanity had any use for his friend. It was chilled and barren. The Inquisitor sat on the cold carven tile, staring at the wall. He could just make out the soft sparkle of unlit veilfire, but the lamp sitting beside her was dark. He wanted to offer to light it. To show her what she obviously longed to see, though he had no idea if Vhemanen had left them or someone who was here centuries ago. He folded himself into a seat beside her instead, stared at the shimmer on the wall and wondered what she thought she could see in it. “I sent Deshanna your message,” he said. “I hope she will listen to it. I fear my cousins have already sent her dark rumors of you. She will think you are using me. Or that you, too, are mad. Or both. But perhaps— perhaps she’ll save them somehow.” She didn’t turn to him and he glanced at her. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. She had been crying a long while. He looked back at the veilfire traces. “If she does not believe the written message, then I will find her in sleep. And each of your clan. Until they believe or flee to Skyhold to stop the dreams. I am sending Loranil to lead them there.” “Thank you. I think. Your method may be— a little harsh, emma lath. But if it brings them to safety— thank you.” He brushed her swollen cheek with his fingertips. “I do not feel like being gentle today,” he admitted. “Not when they dismiss you so easily.” She shook her head a little but did not argue with him. “I admit I can see how it happened, that they think of you as a harellan, as false as that may be. Because it was the same when I tried to tell the clans what they’d forgotten. But Sera? And I? How could either of us believe you betrayed us, Vhenan?” She finally looked at him, the glow of the mark flashing over the veilfire for an instant as she turned and then gone again. “Because all of me is a betrayal. From the very beginning. It was— simpler to ignore in the Inquisition. We were all far from home, from our peoples. Except— except I had the two of you. And it was easy to forget, in my clan, that there were other ways of being. Because I was enough to them. Then. I was right. Dutiful. Part of them. And then I tumbled from the Breach and into the human world.” She rubbed her knee and stared at the wall again. “They’d never want me. The humans. I was a necessary tool for them, and I always will be. For as many statues and parades and treaties they have about me, I’m just a thing. Not theirs. It didn’t matter so much to me, because except for our friends, none of them needed to know me. It wasn’t worth the energy to persuade the Empress or those like her that I was more than the anchor. I do not mean our friends. Cassandra and Dorian, Vivienne and Blackwall— they might not ever understand everything I do or am, but they accept me anyway. Love me anyway. The same for Bull and Varric. But you and Sera— I had to be more. And I failed. Every day, I failed.” “No,” he protested, reaching for her. “Yes. There is no way for me not to fail you both. Sera— wanted me to blend in. Because that’s how she survived. To cut out the parts that struck the City elves and the humans as odd. It was safer that way. The invisible elf is the perfect elf. The invisible elf gets things done. Strikes in the perfect moment. Betters the lives of all the others in quiet leaps when no one is looking. Sera is good at that. But me— everything I know, the way I speak, the paths I choose, the way I move and see and breathe— are not her ways. And no matter how I tried to bend myself into her shape, it was always just a matter of time before I did the wrong thing and the lie fell apart.” He caught her hand in his and pressed it tightly. “Sera loves you anyway, too, you know.” Her eyes filled again. “That makes it worse,” she said. “That I can never be what she wants. Or what you want. That I am and will remain undeserving. And outside. Ever outside.” “Tel vindhru. You are exactly what I want.” “I’m not, though I have tried harder with you than any other. I wanted to be part of you and yours before we even met. All of my clan did. We chased old stories and repeated rituals we did not understand. Because we wanted to be you. But even now, after learning all that I have, it escapes me. I cannot pretend anymore. For a while, when it was just you and I, I thought I might be sufficient. That maybe I could learn enough to get close to what you missed. That I could be your home, even if I was not the same as the family you remembered. But then, when we met the Sentinels— then I knew how very far I was from anything familiar. The way Abelas saw me… I realized it was the same way that you did when we first met. That I was— alien to you. That I would never be…” She trailed off. “Hare—” he cried and stopped himself before he could make a worse mistake. “This is false, Vhenan. I do not wish you to be anything but what you are—” “You did. For a long time. Maybe— maybe you stopped. Or maybe you gave up. I know you loved— love me anyway. But I’m not enough.” She let go of his hand and waved at the wall. “It is always like this. I find only the edge, the shimmer of things. The bare shape of letters and words and stories, but I will never catch their meaning.” He waved his hand and the lamp sputtered to life. “It is only because the world has become so dim and muddled. A little light and—” “No,” she said and her tears began again, glittering in the aqua veilfire. “It doesn’t matter. Because I was raised in the dark. These things you show me, that I dig up— they are corners. Fragments. I’m so far from seeing. You tell me it just takes a little light when I’ve only just realized I don’t even know how to open my eyes. I always feel I am pretending. Play acting. Not real. There will always be this— rift between us that I cannot close. How can I? My life is just a flicker to someone like you. A season. Lost among so many others.” She wiped at her eyes, suddenly drawing herself in again. “But it matters not. There are not many days left to fail you. And you are home, back among your people. More at ease than I’ve ever seen you. That makes me happy.” “You have never failed me.” He turned her face toward him, away from the cold, dead veilfire remnants in the wall. “Never. A flicker? No. If you had been only a flicker, that would have been enough for me to adore you. More than enough. I know my life must seem— terrible and vast to you.” He sighed, pressed his forehead to hers. “At certain periods, it has been. Time— does not move the same for me. There were decades of uselessness. Frustration. Boredom. And then ages asleep, just watching. Uthenera can be what you wish it to. Fantasy. Learning. Oblivion. There were entire centuries that I chose the latter.” He traced the fine web of the anchor at her temple. “I would not lie and tell you that you were my first or only love. There have been others. Just as I know there have been others in your life before me. Though they had many times your number of years, they all fell away. Made their quiet impressions upon my life and then moved on to other lives. They were flickers. None of them made me wish to alter my path the way you have.” She shook her head. “They were on your side. They wouldn’t have wanted you to change.” “They did. A few of them. You told me once, that you would always be on my side—” “I am, I try to be, but I can’t be, not the way you want. If I hadn’t been able to find another way, I couldn’t have joined you, Solas, though it would break my heart.” “Ar eolasa, Vhenan. But what I couldn’t speak then, what I desperately craved, was to be on your side. You are not a flicker. A tree of lightning, a searing comet, perhaps. Something that illuminates the world and lays plain everything that was hidden or wrong. You truly did change everything. I’ve seen eight ages, my love. Civilizations rise and collapse and rise again. Forests dwindle or march across vast plains. You think you aren’t important because of your brevity? I spent all those thousands of years trying to make the world worthy of someone like you. And yet you speak of failure. When all of mine steals your breath, your faith, your clan—” She covered his mouth with her fingertips. “I wish to belong to your people, emma lath,” she whispered, “But without those things you mourn, I would not exist at all.” “I know. I told you, you change everything, even how I think of my past.” He grasped her shoulder. “A rift does not flow in one direction, Vhenan.” He pulled from the anchor and the Veil trembled, slid open. “Solas! This is perilous,” she cried. The Fade slid around them, enveloping Vhemanen’s small room. He could feel the terror pulsing from the Inquisitor. “Have no fear, fanor. The Evanuris sleep still and I can still hold the anchor. I would not bring you here to harm you.” She was not soothed. He released her shoulder to hold her. “Do you remember when we were here together?” he asked. “We were whole, both of us. Not just the way I remembered before the Veil. Utterly whole. Did you not feel it then?” “I— yes, of course. But it was— a moment only.” He shook his head. “Bellanaris. All of my thoughts live inside it. This is our home. This is where we are most real. Soon, your clan will learn the truth of what you told them. Perhaps I am a fool to think the Fade will reveal what has so long remained out of your— our reach. That we will all, at last, be wholly who we should be. That there will be no rift between the people of the waking world or the spirits who inhabit the Fade any longer. But if the breach between us remains, I would leap into it to meet you, Vhenan.” He slid his hand around hers and loosened his control, let her again feel everything. “I cannot replace your family, nor do I wish to. They will want you back sooner than they realize. No matter what happens, you belong with me. How could we not be one people? You are my heart. You belong with me.”

[perlukafarinn]

4 + 39, Destiel, obviously

Mistaken for a couple + Kid ficThis got really long (2.4k words) but I have no regrets.

In October, Dean has an unremarkable one night stand with a woman named Lydia. He doesn’t hear from her again but eleven months later, he’s suddenly a single father to a baby girl who just survived the car crash that killed her mother.

It’s a lot of change in a short amount of time, especially considering he doesn’t know of Emma’s existence until he gets the call from the hospital. He’s responsible for a whole ass person now - a tiny, fragile person who won’t stop crying and who screams bloody murder whenever Dean tries to put her in a car seat.

The little hypocrite is fine with the bus, so Dean resigns himself to public transport for the next while. Dealing with dirty looks from his fellow passengers as Emma cries her head off is easier than the alternative. At least it’s regular crying, not those demonic shrieks she makes in the car.

“Maybe you’re holding her wrong.”

Dean glares at Cas, who’s in the seat next to him. He’s been taking the bus with them ever since Dean brought Emma home, and although Dean is grateful for the company that doesn’t mean he’s gonna put up with unsolicited criticisms.

“Maybe you should shove it.”

“Hand her over,” Cas says, ignoring him.

Dean hesitates but then complies. Maybe the tiny bit of distance will make the endless crying more bearable. 

Cas takes her carefully into his arms, supporting her head like the nurse at the hospital had shown Dean and cradling her to his chest. He bounces her just slightly and then, miracle of miracles, her crying starts to die down.

Dean stares at him in wonder. “How did you do that?”

Cas shrugs. He’s looking down at Emma with a small, gentle smile and Dean feels something in his chest clench at the sight.

“What a sweet girl you two have,” coos a woman sitting across the aisle from them.

It takes Dean a moment to realize she’s misinterpreted the situation. He wonders if he should correct her but before he can, Cas answers, “Thank you.”

Unfortunately, the woman takes that as her cue to continue the conversation. “Did you adopt?”

“No,” Cas responds dryly. “Dean forgot the condom.”

“O-oh.”

She stops bothering them after that and a couple of stops later, she’s off.

“So,” Dean says as soon as she’s gone, “is it an open relationship or did I cheat?”

“You cheated,” Cas answers without hesitating. “Hussy.”

*

The zoo is Emma’s favorite place in the world. Dean’s not crazy about it himself but he’s a sucker for those big blue eyes of hers so they go every week - twice, if Emma’s feeling fussy.

Cas always joins them, even though he must have better things to do. Dean expected his social life to suffer since becoming a single parent, and it has, but he’s seen more of Cas in the past few months than in the last three years combined.

(It probably helps that Cas is divorced now - Daphne never could stand Dean.)

It’s early Saturday afternoon but the slight drizzle keeps most people away. Dean has Emma strapped to his chest, shielding her from the rain with an umbrella, but he gets the feeling she wouldn’t notice it anyway. Their first stop is one of the monkey cages and Emma is captivated, shrieking with laughter and babbling cheerful nonsense at the unimpressed looking monkeys.

“I don’t get why she’s so obsessed with those things,” Dean says.

“I do.” Cas crouches, holding out a finger to Emma who grasps it in her chubby hand. “It’s because she’s a monkey herself.”

“Don’t listen to him, Em,” Dean tells his daughter, taking her unoccupied hand and kissing it. “You’re the cutest little girl in the world.”

Cas straightens and shoots him a wry smile. “Is that why you put that bow in her hair? Or is it because of that woman who told you how handsome your son is?”

Dean pats Emma’s head, careful not to disturb the pink bow clinging precariously to a few strands of hair. That woman was not the first person to confuse Emma for a boy, probably because most of her clothes are hand-me-downs from Cas’ nephew, Jack.

“No,” he lies, because he’s not up for another one of Cas’ lectures about how gender is a construct.

They watch the monkeys a while longer, since Emma can’t seem to get enough of them. The drizzle is starting to turn into proper rain so Cas huddles close, underneath Dean’s umbrella

Eventually, Dean decides they need to check out the rest of the zoo. He begins to walk away from the cage but Emma starts immediately wailing, reaching both hands out to the monkeys.

“Let her stay a little longer,” Cas says.

“If it were up to her, we’d never leave. We can’t give in every time she starts crying, she’ll stop as soon as she sees something else she likes.”

“Ten more minutes.”

Dean rolls his eyes but relents. Next to him, a woman who just arrived with her baby in a stroller laughs.

“Sucks to have to be the strict one, huh?” she asks. 

“Oh, we’re not-” Dean cuts himself off, because why bother. “Yeah, it does.”

“My husband is just as bad,” she confides. “He would let this one get away with murder if it weren’t for me.”

Dean hums. Cas isn’t paying attention to the conversation, too busy reading the plaque in front of the cage.

“I would have figured it would be twice as bad with two daddies, but you seem to be doing okay.”

“Yeah, sure.”

The woman cranes her neck, peering curiously around Dean at Cas. “Which one of you is her real dad?”

A shot of annoyance goes through Dean and he answers without thinking, “We’re both her real dads.”

“Oh, you know what I mean.”

“I don’t. Cas,” Dean adds a little louder. “C'mon, let’s check out the tapirs.”

Emma starts wailing again as they walk away but like Dean predicted, she stops as soon as she spots something else to occupy her interest - in this case, a big rock.

“We’re both her real dads?” Cas asks.

Dean blushes. “Sorry. I just hate it when people talk about family not being real, just because you’re not related by blood.”

“I know.”

“Didn’t mean to drag you into it.”

“It’s fine. I do consider you and Emma to be my family.”

Dean swallows past the lump that’s suddenly formed in his throat. “Yeah. Well. Right back at you.”

He ignores the flutter of hope in his chest. That way only lies danger.

*

Dean is expecting some tears on Emma’s first day of pre-school. If not from her, then from himself. Surprisingly, they both handle it well. Emma stumbles off without saying goodbye when she spots a slide on the playground and although Dean gets a little misty-eyed, he keeps it together.

Then he turns to Cas, who is noticeably distressed.

Dean nudges him. “You okay, buddy?”

“Yes, I’m-” Cas clears his throat and Dean pretends not to notice when he wipes away a tear. “I’m fine.”

“It’s only a few hours. I’m sure you can handle it.”

Cas shoots him a glare. “I’m going to wait in the car.”

He walks off and Dean feels a little bad for teasing but not enough to actually go and apologize. 

Emma’s new teacher walks up to him. “This is nothing unusual,” she says, gesturing at Cas’ retreating back. “But Emma is adjusting remarkably well.”

“Yeah, she’s a champ,” Dean says, chest swelling with pride. He can still see Emma from here, toddling her way up the short steps to the slide. 

“Will you or your partner be picking her up? Or both of you?”

Emma slides down, stumbling as she lands but managing to stay on her feet. She shrieks in delight, running back around to the steps to go again.

“Hm?”

“Sorry, husband.”

Dean turns to the teacher, attention caught by that word. “What?”

“Which one of you will be picking up Emma?” she asks again. “You or your husband?”

Dean stares at her blankly for a moment. “Me,” he finally answers. “My - uh, my husband is working late.”

Later, once he’s taken care of all the formalities with the teacher and has said goodbye to Emma, Dean heads back to the car and wonders why he didn’t correct her. Why he went along with her mistake.

Why the hell the word ‘husband’ sounded so good when applied to Cas.

*

On Emma’s second birthday, Dean discovers that strangers aren’t the only ones who have been mistaking him and Cas for a couple.

He’s in his kitchen, putting away all the dirty dishes from Emma’s party. The birthday girl herself is taking a nap and although most of the guests have gone home, a few still linger in the living room, talking quietly among themselves.

He’s just about done loading the machine and putting the leftovers away when Mom joins him.

“Bobby and I are about to head home,” she tells him. “Just wanted to say goodbye.”

Dean closes the fridge and walks over to hug her. She’s smiling at him when they part, eyes shining. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she says. She clears her throat, pats Dean’s chest. “I’m just… really happy for you, sweetie.”

“Mom,” Dean says, putting his hand over hers. “Have you been drinking?”

Mom snorts, swatting him. “I mean it, kid. I was so worried about you when you got the call about Emma but you’ve handled the situation better than I could have hoped for.”

Dean shrugs, uncomfortable at the deluge of sincere praise. This is the kind of emotional honesty members of the Winchester family don’t usually engage in unless somebody’s on their deathbed. 

“She’s lucky to have you,” Mom continues. “And you’re both lucky to have Castiel. I’m glad you’ve all found each other.”

Dean’s stomach sinks. He searches Mom’s expression for any hint of a joke but she looks completely serious. 

“Mom… I don’t have Cas. We’re not together.”

“…You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

Mom blinks. “But you’re…” She huffs. “I don’t understand.”

“Sorry?” Dean scratches the back of his neck. “I dunno what to tell you, we’re just friends.”

Neither one of them speaks, the silence between them growing awkward.

“I’m… gonna go,” Mom finally says. “Just forget I said anything about Castiel.”

“Okay,” Dean says, knowing full well he’s not gonna be able to.

Strangers thinking he and Cas are involved is one thing. But Mom? Maybe it’s time for Dean to reevaluate the way they come off to people. The last thing he needs is for Emma to get confused about the situation.

*

Dean considers bringing it up with Cas but it’s just too awkward and in the end, very little reevaluating is done. Dean likes that they’re close, even if they’re never as close as he actually wants. He doesn’t wanna lose any part of what he and Cas have, doesn’t want anything to change between them.

So he says nothing, and things stay the same. 

The conversation with Mom is all but forgotten a few months later. Dean is working late, so Cas offers to picks Emma up from pre-school. They’re both kneeling around the coffee table in the living room when Dean comes home, drawing with crayons on the blank pages of Emma’s coloring book.

Dean feels ten different kinds of warm and fuzzy at the sight of them and he can’t help but smile. Cas looks up, finally noticing him, and answers with a gummy smile of his own. 

“You staying for dinner?” Dean asks, ignoring the way his heart just skipped a beat.

“Mhm,” Emma hums without looking up from the coloring book.

“I suppose I am,” Cas agrees.

He stays for dinner and then he stays after, helping Dean get Emma to bed. Even once she’s asleep, he stays and does the dishes while Dean throws a load in the laundry. 

Neither one of them says anything, but by the time they’re done with the chores and collapse on the couch in front of the TV it’s clear that he’s not going home to sleep. It’s not the first time he’s staying the night, or even the fiftieth - it’s become something of a habit since Dean got Emma. The guest room is basically Cas’ room by now. 

They channel surf until Cas makes Dean stop on some competitive reality show about blowing glass. Dean becomes invested despite himself but even then, he’s exhausted and the couch is very soft and inviting.

He doesn’t remember falling asleep but when he wakes up, his head is laying on Cas’ shoulder and Cas is slumped against him, snoring softly. It’s dark outside and the only source of light is from the television, now showing a late night talk show with the volume off.

Dean sits up, jostling Cas awake. For a moment, they just look at each other, both smiling sleepily. Then Dean, forgetting for a moment everything they are and everything they aren’t, leans in and kisses him.

It’s not a first kiss. It isn’t tentative, or curious, or impatient and passionate. It’s a routine kiss, the kind you give a partner you’ve been with for a while, brief but assured and loving.

He pulls away and it’s not until he sees Cas’ face that his brain finally catches up with him. 

“Shit,” he mutters, recoiling. “Cas, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

He moves to get up, but Cas grabs his hand, holding him still. He doesn’t look shocked or disturbed. Dean can’t read his expression at all, can’t tell what that searching look in his eyes means.

“Don’t apologize,” he finally says. “I’ve been waiting for you to do that for ten years.”

Dean’s jaw goes slack. “Wh- ten years?” 

“Yes,” Cas says, matter-of-factly. Then, “I’m going to kiss you again, if you don’t mind.”

Dean doesn’t mind. He very, very much doesn’t mind, especially with the way Cas’ hand cups the back of his neck, thumb rubbing the sensitive skin behind his ear before he leans in, kissing Dean with gentle pressure and precision. Or the way he licks the seams of his lips until he opens them, turning the kiss a little filthy and sending bolts of heat dancing down to Dean’s gut.

They part, and something occurs to Dean.

“Wait, is that why Daphne hated me?”

Cas laughs. He’s so close, Dean can feel the way it rumbles in his chest warm and low. “No, actually. She thought you drank too much.”

Then he’s kissing Dean again, and the conversation is officially over.

*

It isn’t until he’s in a relationship with Cas that Dean realizes he was basically in a relationship with Cas already.

Seems he was the one misunderstanding things all along.

[ohmightydevviepuu]

our little life (rounded with a sleep) / chapter 11

our little life (rounded with a sleep) chapter eleven [11/12] AO3

--

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful detective. She had blonde hair, green eyes, no family, and she was good at finding people; in fact, she proclaimed this on her office door. “Swan and Humbert,” it said. “Private investigations, missing persons, and bail bonds.”

Only lately, she’s been thinking that maybe it should say “Emma Swan: Loner, Loser, Complicated wreck.”

Her partner’s been killed on a case after she made a deal with her landlord to find what had been taken from him. But when she tracks a possible perp to a bar on the outskirts of town, Emma will find out exactly how deep the rabbit hole goes.

--

major, major shoutout here to @distant-rose​​ and especially to @justanotherwannabeclassic​ who shared with me something they were working on that S was writing while i was struggling with this part.  i felt so inspired by what they had done and by S’s words that i knew immediately how i wanted to write this bit of the story.

to @thisonesatellite​​, @profdanglaisstuff​​ and @katie-dub​ who were all treated to MULTIPLE drafts of this chapter, with extra gratitude to poor katie who hadn’t even read any of it before having this shoved under her nose ❤️

to @captainswanbigbang​​, who made all of this possible

to all of you screaming at me after the last chapter, i hope i prove worthy of your time and patience and attention today--particularly @carpedzem​ who is trusting me 💕

--

cw: canonical character death rating: T/M (implied violence, language) word count:  ~5k AO3 chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | chapter five | chapter six | chapter seven | chapter eight | chapter nine | chapter ten

--

It felt like it happened in a second.

Maybe less.

But in retrospect, as she stood there staring at Killian’s lifeless body on the floor of the station, it was more like a slow-motion trainwreck.

(Killian would have had a Shakespearean reference on the tip of his tongue, something sad and depressing but also beautiful. He would quote it, and she would roll her eyes, and he would explain it and wink and she thought it annoyed her but really--she kind of liked it.) 

(She liked him.)

read the full chapter on AO3

chapter eleven

“Hey, Leroy,” David called, “I didn’t order this apple turnover.”

“Do I look like I care?”

--

It’s not that she hadn’t noticed Gold’s comment.

A pirate who pines for you.

Or Cora’s.

Love is weakness.

It’s just--there was a lot going on, and Emma thought--maybe if she could just get her parents to remember, somehow, that would help her figure out the whole curse situation.

(She hadn’t noticed.) (She hadn’t noticed.)

--

Henry said: “Wait, Grandpa, did you say apple?”

And looked at Killian.

And then at Emma.

And then back at Killian.

--

“It’s a trick,” Henry said. “As long as she’s alive, Emma is a threat to the curse.”

“Henry,” Regina said, “You’ve got to stop thinking like this. I’m your mother and I love you.”

“It’s my usual order from Granny’s, Henry. Nothing sinister.” David’s smile was persuasive and warm.

Charming, even.

“I’m very grateful to you, mate,” Killian said, “that you left off the bologna this time.”

--

Emma couldn’t see the future.

But Gold could, he claimed, and this, this--it was impossible, but he had somehow planned for exactly this.

“I’m quite pleased at the level of your devotion to Miss Swan. More than you could possibly know.”

--

It had been there, buried in the layers of conversation between the two men; in the history that they were excavating with each word.

“She’s the mother to your grandson.”

“I need Miss Swan. Surely you understand that.”

“You get what you wanted either way, don’t you, crocodile?”

“I’m a man who likes to plan for any contingency.”

“And when it doesn’t work?”

“It matters not. It might even add a little fuel to the fire.”

(Emma had missed it.) (Emma had missed all of it.)

--

Henry said: “You can’t eat that. It’s poison.”

It was pastry, Emma thought, but Killian--

He just looked at Henry, and she didn’t know she knew it, knew that Killian was looking at her kid and seeing the boy he had loved two hundred years ago when he said: “It’s going to be fine, lad. Your mother is going to be safe.”

(She knew it because she knew him.) (Open book.)

--

His eyes were on the chain.

Emma hadn’t even realized she was clutching it. Again.

“I think it might be the reason I’m still alive,” he’d said.

“Get Lacey,” he said. Killian’s lips were barely moving, his voice so low that only she could hear it. “Bring her here.”

“What?” Emma said. “When--?”

“For once, please,” he said, “just do as I ask, Swan. Promise me.”

--

Apples.

The apple tree was dying.

“If you do not succeed in breaking the curse on your own, killing you breaks the curse just as well as anything else.”

But Regina didn’t want the curse broken.

“I’ve found a solution to my Emma Swan problem.” “An old, reliable solution.”

--

Henry was up against the bars of the cell door, agitated and angry.

“Swan,” Killian said. “You weren’t wrong about me.”

(Henry had known.) (Emma should have known.)

--

She should have known.

It was there, in his expression, in the tilt of his head. It was the lost look in his eyes again, buttressed by something determined. And angry. And--

--hopeful.

--

“There’s hope, Swan.” "All you have to do is believe.”

--

Killian reached for the pastry, picking it up off the tray.

Regina twitched--started to say something, opening her mouth and closing it again.

Gold giggled.

Something stirred in Mary Margaret. “It must be taken willingly,” she said.

Which was pretty fucking creepy.

And then--

Oh.

Oh.

--

“Regina’s not going to let all of her hard work burn.”

--

It was just one bite. One. Bite.

--

Hook was on the floor, his eyes closed and his body unresponsive.

(And her dreams, her goddamned dreams, she’d known this was coming, and yet--) (She hadn’t known.) (Not until it was too late.)

--

Emma’s knees hit the ground almost before he did.

“KILLIAN!”

--

Hello, beautiful.

I find I quite fancy you.

I love a challenge.

I haven’t lived a good life.

I’m not much for loyalty.

I was hoping it would be you.

I believe in good form.

I’m going to tell you a story.

Everything you think you believe is wrong.

Did I tell you a lie?

That’s the thing about revenge, you see: it’s an end, not a beginning.

I don’t dance, anyway.

We make quite the team.

You should know as well as anyone that Lost Ones recognize their own.

I am a man of honor.

Milah wouldn’t have wanted this.

My reasons are my own.

A reminder to both of us.

Don’t you know, Emma? It’s all for you.

You weren’t wrong about me.

--

The tray and its contents clattered to the floor, a mess all around her as David and Mary Margaret--her parents--startled at the noise, as Regina pulled Henry away.

“Killian,” Emma said. “Killian, can you hear me? Come on, Killian, come back to me.”

(He didn’t answer.) (Somehow, she had known that he wouldn’t.)

--

David unlocked the cell doors.

Fucking finally.

Mary Margaret came rushing in, her fingers jabbing uselessly at Killian’s wrists and neck for any indication of a pulse.

“He’s not dead,” Henry said, but he didn’t sound too certain, her son the Believer. “It’s just--”

“It’s a curse,” Emma said. She almost couldn’t make herself say the words, as she looked up at David, at her father, and forced him to look her in the eyes.

“Help me get him up,” David muttered.

“Aren’t you a real Prince Charming,” Mary Margaret said, putting an arm around Emma’s shoulder.

--

It was impossible to tell if he was breathing.

“I’m sorry it had to come to this, Miss Swan,” Gold said.

Liar.

--

Emma pushed Regina up against the wall, desperately wishing she had her gun. Or a pair of cuffs. “You did this,” she said.

“It was meant for you,” Regina said. But her smile, the sickening smile, suggested that she wasn’t entirely disappointed with the outcome.

“Wake. Him. Up.” Emma punctuated each word with a shove against the wall, only--

Regina laughed. “That’s not how the magic works, Miss Swan.”

--

Emma was on the floor.

Her back up against the bars, her feet flat against the floor, and it kept her eyes level with his, and Henry was there, just--

“It’s going to be okay, Mom.”

Mary Margaret was holding her hand, stroking her thumb soothingly against Emma’s palm.

(Emma did not get emotional over men.)

--

“What--” Henry gulped. “What’s going to happen to him?”

But Emma remembered this part, the story where Snow White had eaten the apple. His body would be like a tomb, and he would be in there with nothing, nothing but--

“Dreams formed of your own regrets,” Mary Margaret said, and Emma nodded.

(God, Killian had so many regrets.)

--

“Wait,” Emma said, blinking away tears. “What did you just say?”

“Nothing,” Mary Margaret said, but she had that look in her eyes, that far-away look, that haunted, cursed look--

--

“Just look at me,” he’d said, “and believe.”

--

It was under the bed.

Emma was sure it hadn’t been there before.

Oversized brown leather binding with old-timey script.

Once Upon A Time.

--

When Emma reached for the book she felt the power rushing through her, and she stood up.

It was time to end this.

“Henry,” she said. “I need you to go to The Rabbit Hole. Bring Lacey. Run.”

--

All curses can be broken. Think therefore on revenge and cease to weep.

--

“He’s not dead.”

That’s what Emma said when Liam rushed into the room and looked around, his face pale and his eyes wide as they landed upon his brother.

“He’s not dead.”

Emma said it again as Lacey, resplendent as ever in her t-shirt-micromini-stilettoes combo, rushed in two steps behind Liam. She was saying it for them, but she was reminding herself, too.

She was reminding Henry, as well; Henry, who had refused to leave her. “I’m not leaving you.” That’s what he’d said when she told him to go, this small person she had helped create, who was somehow stronger than both of his parents combined. “I’m not leaving you here with them,” he’d said, biting back tears and pulling an old flip phone out of his pocket.

“Who are you calling, Henry” in Gold’s smoothed-over accent overlapped with “That phone is for emergencies only” in Regina’s acidic tone and Emma had snapped.

“I think this counts as a fucking emergency,” she said, somehow still clutching the storybook to her chest. Once Upon a Time. The rush of power, she could feel it on the edge of her consciousness, but it was something just out of her reach. She had no idea how to wake him up. How to wake any of them up. Mary Margaret and David--it was as if they were on the precipice of something, only Emma couldn’t push them the rest of the way.

“Mom,” Henry had said, “give me the book,” and then pulled it from her hands and gone to sit next to Mary Margaret.

He’d read her a story.

...they didn’t need words to express what they felt in their hearts, for it was here, in the shadow of the troll bridge, where their love was born--where they knew, no matter how they were separated, they would always…

Emma should have thought--should have realized--that Liam would come running just as quickly as Lacey would. In fact, it was probably Liam whom Henry had phoned; after all, they were friends. Liam was Hook’s brother.

“Liam is not the first brother of mine to bear that name.”

It was getting difficult to look at him, to look at Killian and to imagine what it must be like, to be trapped in a prison formed of his own regrets. But Emma also couldn’t look at Gold, who was watching Henry with something in his eyes that frightened her.

Neal was Gold’s son. Gold was Henry’s grandfather. Neal had known Hook, hundreds of years ago. Somehow, they had all ended up here--in a Land Without Magic.

Graham was dead. Gold had killed him over a dagger.

“Baelfire saw it as the source of all of his problems and I saw in it the solution to all of mine.”

It was Gold’s curse, and yet he had used Regina to cast it.

Had Gold--had he been looking for Neal?

It made a twisted kind of sense, Emma decided, watching Gold watch her son. As for her own family tree, well--

No one spoke as Henry’s words bounced around the station, through the bars and off the concrete brick walls. “Whatever she did to you,” Henry said, “I know Snow White is in there somewhere.”

Something stirred in Emma at the words, and in David, too, and then--

Liam. And Lacey.

And Gold’s cane clattered as it hit the floor.

--

Emma was shocked when Lacey came straight up to her and gave her a hug. “Is Jamie okay?”

Jamie--who the fuck was--oh. Right. But also, why was this woman hugging her?

“Belle?” Gold’s words were breathy, broken and disbelieving in a way Emma had never heard from him before. In that brief moment, there was nothing reptilian about him; nothing that glinted or leered, nothing powerful or all-knowing. He was just a man, and he was looking at Lacey as though he had been in a desert and she was water, half-afraid that she was an hallucination, but even more afraid that she wasn’t.

“You think the maid is some kind of chess piece?” “Given the circumstances, it seemed wise to acquire some leverage.” “She’s the only thing that can break him.” “She’s my friend.”

“You’re real,” Gold said. “You’re alive.” It was practically a whisper, one that Lacey acknowledged with a smile--the small, tight kind that showed no teeth as she stepped forward, bending to pick up the fallen cane.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Do I know you?”

“No,” Gold said, accepting the cane from her. “But you will.”

Lacey cocked her head, looking at him, managing somehow not to look terrified at the prospect as the moment ended and Gold’s expression turned murderous and he growled, “Which of them?” His accent thickened as he glanced first at Regina, and then at Emma. “Which of them did this to her?”

Emma instinctively put herself between her landlord--her son’s grandfather, Rumplestiltskin, the fucking Dark One--and Hook. “Hook rescued her, you asshole. From an asylum. Where Regina had her locked up for the past twenty-eight years.”

Regina hissed as Gold stiffened, and something like a shudder overcame Lacey. Belle. “Regina,” she said faintly. “Regina locked me up.” Her eyes--

Shit. She had that far-away cursed look, too. “I was told to find you, and tell you that Regina locked me up. Does that--does that mean anything to you?”

Gold moved, his arms outstretched, only something about the movement triggered the curse again as Belle--Lacey--snapped out of it.

“Lacey,” Liam called softly from inside the cell. Emma wanted to yell, to scream, there was no reason to be quiet--Killian couldn’t hear any of them, or any of this, trapped in a tomb of his own regrets--but she couldn’t. Not when Liam was all long limbs and uncertainty as he hovered over his brother’s body, looking for the same signs of life Emma had tried--and failed--to find. Lacey gave Emma’s shoulder a squeeze, running her hand down Emma’s arm and gently pulling her into the cell with the brothers, and with Henry, who left the storybook on the floor as he stared up at Liam.

“I’m so sorry this happened,” Lacey said, also keeping her voice low in a way that made Emma want to scream. “Are you okay?”

Emma blinked. Lacey’s smile was sad but genuine. “I saw the two of you together,” she reminded Emma, “and Jamie told me about you. He said to bring you this if anything happened to him.” She dropped Emma’s arm and twisted, pulling the crossbody bag slung over her shoulder from her back to her front.

“He’s not dead,” Lacey muttered.

“He’s not,” Emma echoed. Then, “Do you even understand what is happening?”

“Emma,” Lacey said, “Do you?” She was holding something in her hand, about the length of her forearm, wrapped in paper. “But he trusts you. So I trust you.”

Emma took the parcel. She could feel the twisted blade inside, crinkling the paper as she gripped the handle. She turned so that Mary Margaret and David--her parents--couldn’t see it. They sat on the other side of the bars, almost frozen as they watched her with Henry, and with Liam, and with Lacey, the storybook still open in front of them on the concrete floor, an illustration of a minutes-old baby girl tucked into a hand-knitted blanket with purple trim covering both pages as a man shoved her into a wardrobe with the last breath in his body.

“How did this happen?” Liam asked.

Of course, that he said loud enough to carry.

Regina smirked. “Miss Swan,” she said, “why don’t you explain to this young man why his brother is comatose and possibly dying, all because you put him in harm’s way?”

Because apparently, reading people at their worst was a family trait. But Cora was gone, dead by Killian’s hand in her defense, and Emma was not responsible for his choices.

She kept telling herself that, too.

Even though she should have known.

Even though her dreams had warned her.

Liam’s face fell, and Emma braced herself, wondering if anger was a family trait for the Jones men the same way it was for the Mills women. “You’re the one,” Liam said, “who got him--and got me--involved in all of this.”

“And if you had listened to me,” Regina said, “he might not be in this position. Miss Swan would have been long taken care of.”

“Listened to you?” And there it was, the flash of his elder brother, in the harshness of his consonants and the icy coolness of his rage. “You wanted me to spy on him, to tell you about her. But I know, Regina, what you did to him, and what you did me, and--”

Emma put her hand on his shoulder, an echo of Lacey’s gesture, in an attempt to give him comfort. “Liam,” she said, “you didn’t do this. As for you--” she directed her glare at Regina, grateful for anything to focus on beside the unmoving body mere feet away “--I’m locking you up.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Regina spat.

“Let’s see,” Emma said, pretending to think. “The sheriff is literally standing right next to you, so we could start with whatever the hell your game is with Kathryn Nolan. But we have so many other choices: you’ve committed false imprisonment, theft, and, of course, attempted murder--”

That’s when her voice caught.

Because Killian was there, unmoving, mere feet away.

Emma closed her eyes, so she heard instead of saw David push Regina into Mary Margaret’s cell; she didn’t open her eyes again until she also heard the door close and the lock click.

“I’m going to fix this,” Emma said. She said it for herself as much as for Liam, or for Lacey, or for Henry. She said it because she needed to hear it, too.

“It happened,” Henry said, “because your brother is a hero.” There was so much conviction in his voice--Emma could hear how much he wanted Liam to believe. “It happened because he didn’t want me to lose my mom, the way you lost your dad. He didn’t want to see another family broken up.” Lacey nodded, but Liam just shook his head and looked mournfully at Henry. “My mom is going to fix this,” he said. “I promise, Liam.”

Gold cleared his throat. His gold tooth was glinting again as he grinned, all traces of the human man with human emotions gone as he was every inch Hook’s crocodile once more.

“I wonder, Miss Swan,” he said. “What exactly do you intend to do about the magical ailment that has befallen my old friend? To fix it, as you say.”

Slowly, Emma advanced on him, emerging from the cell. The dagger--the Dark One’s dagger, the thing that Graham had fucking died for--was still in its wrappings, and his eyes followed her, and it, with speculation.

“All magic comes with a price, dearie,” Gold said.

“He shouldn’t have had to pay it,” Emma said. “Not this time.”

“That’s debatable,” Gold said, “but let’s agree to disagree, shall we?”

“Cut the bullshit, Gold,” Emma said. “You obviously think you still have a plan here, so what is it?”

“I, Miss Swan,” he said, “always have a plan.” Emma’s hand clenched around the dagger so tightly that she could feel the curved edges of the blade and wondered that she hadn’t cut herself yet. “If you had listened to me prior to the Captain’s unfortunate incident--” he gestured with the cane “--we might not have been in this position.”

Emma stared, waiting.

Finally, he said, “True Love. The only magic powerful enough to transcend realms and break any curse.”

Emma very carefully did not look at Killian, but was still rewarded with another one of Gold’s giggles. “Luckily for you,” he said, “I happen to have bottled some.”

Regina stirred. “You did?” Her surprise was evident.

“Oh, yes,” Gold purred. “From strands of her parents’ hair, I made the most powerful potion in all the realms. So powerful, that when I created the Dark Curse, I placed a single drop on the parchment.” For the first time since Lacey had entered the station, Gold moved. Two slow, deliberate steps until he was standing directly in front of Regina, and he leaned forward. “Just a little safety valve,” he said. His cane tapped the bars for emphasis.

“You twisted little imp,” Regina said. “You--”

But Emma was finished with her--with all of it. “You still don’t get it, do you?” Emma said impatiently. “He planned all of this, he and Cora, and it’s not about you at all, or me, or any of us. We’re here because he wanted us to be here. I’m the Savior so that I can break the curse--so that he can leave Storybrooke and go find his son.”

Emma tore the paper from the dagger and held it up by the handle, brandishing it at Gold. “Stop me if I’ve got this wrong,” Emma said. “But I’m not, am I? Neal ended up in Neverland because of you. He left me, pregnant and alone and in jail, because of you. He abandoned his son, your grandson. Because he was afraid of you. Because he hated you.”

“Tell me something, love. If a woman begs you to take her away, is that theft?”

“She left you,” Emma whispered, “because she hated you.”

“Emma,” Lacey said, trying to pull at her arm. Emma shrugged her off, keeping her eyes on Gold. She wasn’t sure if it was the sound of Lacey’s voice or the sight of his precious object, but a change had come over him. He looked--older, suddenly. Angry, and defiant, and--for the first time--scared.

He hadn’t planned for this.

The anger Emma felt bubbling up within her, the hatred, it was like nothing she had ever felt before. Not even when Neal had left--not even when she’d gone to prison--not even when she’d had to give up Henry. She pushed forward, walking toward him, crowding him, continuing her recitation: “And this? Your magical, mystical dagger. The source of all of your power, that you thought was hidden. The reason you killed Graham--but he was smarter than you gave him credit for. Both of them were.”

Emma took the last step toward him, forcing him against the bars and holding the dagger almost against his neck. “And you?” she said. “You’re just a coward.”

There was nothing powerful about Gold, not then. Not with his own dagger pressed almost into his skin, the tip of it very nearly piercing his flesh--there was only fear. The thing might be a paperweight in this realm, in this Land Without Magic, but it was sharp as fuck and ready to cut.

“So tell me, crocodile,” Emma said, “what do you know of True Love?”

True Love is the rarest magic of all.

And all Emma felt was fury--and how easy it would be to push the knife farther into his throat.

He was struggling against her as he spoke, but Emma had him completely pinned. Letters Emma hadn’t even noticed made themselves visible, spelling a name: Rumplestiltskin. It flashed for a second and then just as quickly began to fade away, one letter at a time beginning to disappear.

“You--” Lacey said. “You loved someone?”

Gold licked his lips. “It was a brief flicker of light amidst an ocean of darkness.”

That’s when Emma noticed the blood. He was bleeding from a wound she had made--

“All magic comes with a price." "The price of this magic is--unspeakable.”

Emma’s grip faltered; her shoulders sagged and her head felt suddenly heavy.

“Mom,” Henry said, looking at her with pleading eyes. “Don’t. Please--don’t.”

“Vengeance is tempting." "The darkness always is.”

Emma turned, and she could feel them--the tears--burning at the edges of her eyes.

“It creeps up in you. Resist it.”

“Emma,” Mary Margaret said. “You can’t give in, or your life will be just like his. Bleak, and empty, and full of darkness. I gave Henry that book to give him hope.”

“Heroes do what’s right,” Henry said. “Not what’s easy.”

Something in Emma broke, as she suddenly felt everything, all of it--the grief, the anger, the helplessness, the sadness--all at once. She fell backward on unsteady feet, taking one step after another until her hands felt the wall behind her, and she sank to the floor.

Sobbing.

“Why couldn’t you?” she’d asked in her dream. “I didn’t have anything to live for,” he said, “to keep me on my path. Use whatever it takes to stay on yours."

But what did Emma know about True Love? Nothing--less than nothing--less than the goddamn Dark One. She had been abandoned by her parents, or sent through a magical wardrobe; either way she had grown up alone. She had been abandoned by Neal and she, in turn, had given up her kid--afraid to let herself love Graham, afraid to love Mary Margaret, afraid to love Kil--

“Mom.” Henry was barely taller than her shoulder because of the way she was sitting. “You can do this, Mom. I believe in you.” Emma reached for him with the hand not still clutching the dagger, wrapping him in a hug and pulling him down to the floor next to her. Henry nestled into her side as if he had done it every day of his life and Emma instinctively shifted so that her head lay atop his.

Even after everything, his hair still smelled sweet and clean. It was the first time Emma had smelled it.

“Emma,” Mary Margaret said. Her friend--her mother--was kneeling on the floor in front of her, one hand on Emma’s knee, looking as though she was actually trying to restrain herself from pulling Emma into her arms.

“Mom,” Emma whispered. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I let you down.”

She hadn’t broken the curse. She had been attacked, kidnapped by a madman who had vanished into a magic hat and imprisoned by the fucking Queen of fucking Hearts. Graham was still dead. Killian was--gone.

What was she going to tell Liam?

What had any of it even been for?

Emma Swan wasn’t a savior.

Emma Swan wasn’t some fairy tale princess.

There were no fairy godmothers in this world.

“You didn’t, Emma, shhh,” Mary Margaret said. “I don’t care what you do or say, I will never stop trying to protect you, and you could never let me down.”

For the first time in her life, Emma let herself be gathered up and held by someone, by her best friend, by her mother.

“I love you, Emma,” Mary Margaret whispered, and Emma felt her mother’s kiss on the crown of her head.

...And, yes, she was beyond hope. Beyond saving. This was her end. When Prince Charming saw his beloved Snow White in her glass coffin, he knew all that was left was to say goodbye. He had to give her one last kiss. And when he did, True Love proved more powerful than any curse. A pulse of pure love shuddered out and engulfed the land, waking up Snow White and bringing light to the darkness.

--

@kmomof4​ @shireness-says​ @optomisticgirl​ @scientificapricot​ @captainsjedi​ @carpedzem​ @mariakov81​ @stahlop​ @eirabach​ @snowbellewells​ @searchingwardrobes​ @spartanguard​

[houseisekai]

FE3H:HI Shadowbringers - Part 2: Forward, Relentlessly

House Isekai Shadowbringers AU Masterlist Here

----

Being awoken by a familiar voice, Class VII find themselves stranded in unfamiliar territory, separated and confused, and set out to find their classmates.

Meanwhile King Dimitri plans a daring mission, gambling his entire kingdom and perhaps all of Fodlan if he fails...

----

[Trouble Outbreak - The Legend of Heroes: Trails of Cold Steel OST]

(Boy's voice) "...-uctor? Instructor!"

Sara slowly opened her eyes, holding her head.

She felt as if it was about to split wide open.

(Sara) "Ugh...Oh, good we’re alive...I think...”

As her vision adjusted to the area they were in, she could see Rean right next to her, alongside Emma using some sort of healing spell.

(Emma) "Instructor Sara, are you feeling okay?!"

(Sara) "We just fell down into a bottomless pit, how do you think I feel?”

(Emma) “...She’s okay.”

Rean sighed in relief and stood up, looking to the rest of Class VII.

The area they were in appeared to be somewhere in the north, judging by how cold the wind was.

Looking to his left, he saw half the class talking with each other, also trying to get a bearing on their surroundings.

To his right, Valimar was kneeling with the other half near him.

Rean frowned when he examined Valimar.

At this point he had done it several times while everyone was waking up, but the Divine Knight was in such good shape considering the circumstances.

Valimar should have been destroyed in the fall. Then there was the question of how anyone was still alive.

...Shaking his head, he decided to turn his attention back to the present. He'd have plenty of time to worry about that later.

When he turned around, Emma was helping Sara get to her feet.

(Sara) "What happened?"

(Emma) "It looks like we were saved. How, we don't know."

(Rean) "Right now we're trying to get ourselves situated before we start investigating the area. Sharon should be back in a few minutes to tell us what she's found."

(Sara) "Right. Hoo, alright just give me a few minutes I'll be ready...!"

Rean nodded and walked towards Valimar as Emma tended to Sara.

Crow, Towa, Elliot, and Alisa were right next to Valimar, and noticed Rean coming to them.

(Crow) "Hey look, Sara's awake."

(Elliot) "Whew, thank goodness! I was starting to worry something was wrong."

(Alisa) "It's a miracle that we managed to get up as fast we did, honestly."

(Towa) "I suppose we should just be grateful everyone is okay. That fall was pretty scary!"

(Rean) "Hah, that doesn't even come close to describing it...We still haven't seen any sign of our other classmates have we?"

(Crow) "Nope. It's just been us as far as I could tell. Maybe we should ask Valimar if he can sense them."

(Towa) "He can do that?"

(Alisa) "I thought that only worked on Class VII since we were the only ones to activate him?"

(Elliot) "It might be worth a shot at the very least."

Rean shrugged.

(Rean) "Yeah, can't hurt to try. Valimar."

The Divine Knight's lenses flared to life with a bright green shine.

(Rean) "Can you detect any other member of House Isekai?"

(Valimar) Negative. A magical disruption in the area is preventing my scanners from working properly.

(Crow) "Well good, it does work, but the hell is causing the problem?"

Two figures watched from on top of a hill covered in trees.

They could see Emma walking over to the group, most likely being asked if she could sense anything.

The woman in black turned to the man on her right.

(???) "Lahabrea, we should attack them before they return to full strength. They're weak, we have the upperhand-"

Lahabrea shook his head.

(Lahabrea) "Patience. It'd do you well not to underestimate the professor's students. ESPECIALLY, the wielder of the Ashen Knight."

(???) "Our orders were to destroy any member of House Isekai and-"

(Lahabrea) "-And we know our higher ups are idiots. They seek to destroy this wild card because it threatens our plan. I like to think otherwise."

The woman's facial expressions weren't visible, but he could tell that she was fuming.

(???) "Just because you were put in charge of this operation does NOT mean you can just use this as an excuse to further your little pet project!"

(Lahabrea) "Hah! You have the nerve to refer to what I’m doing as a ‘pet project’? You know full well if Thales were to continue we'd-...It is VERY rude to eavesdrop, I'll have you know."

Sharon stepped out of the trees, her signature smile still present. Her hands were over one another, in front of her apron.

(Sharon) "My apologies. I just overheard someone threatening my class and had to make sure they would not have the opportunity to do so. You cannot fault for that, can you?” 

(Lahabrea) "I would not, in fact. Forgive us, perhaps we got off on the wrong foot. My name is-"

(???) "Is this some sort of joke!? Why are we bothering to give her any pleasantries when we should kill her!?"

(Lahabrea) "... My name is Lahabrea. My uncivilized companion is Gaia. I am quite familiar with who you are."

(Sharon) “Oh, so polite! It’s very nice to meet you! Now, could you please leave us? I would hate having to be forced to kill you.”

(Gaia) "Hah! And what could a single maid possibly-?"

Lahabrea cut Gaia off by shooting a dark spell at her feet, a bundle of wires unfolding themselves.

(Gaia) "Wha?!-"

Gaia noticed that Sharon was covering the beginning of the wires in her hands.

(Lahabrea) "And THIS, is why I say not to underestimate ANYONE of that house. You invite death by doing so. Since you are so hellbent on the mission, then leave me!”

Gaia mumbled something under her breath and teleported away.

Lahabrea bowed once she left.

(Lahabrea) “My deepest apologies, Miss Kreuger. We will meet again later when the time is appropriate. While my colleagues would rather show hostility towards House Isekai, I would offer friendship. But, that conversation will come later.”

Lahabrea began to teleport away but spoke one last time.

(Lahabrea) “You are near Fhirdiad, by the way. Make your way south towards the gates, and you will find your friends. I recommend doing so with the utmost haste. Farewell for now.”

Lahabrea vanished, leaving a trail of dark purple smoke before it faded into nothing.

Sharon went down the hill and to Rean. All of Class VII went to Sharon, awaiting the news.

(Rean) “Sharon, did you see anything out there that might give us an idea of where we are?”

(Sharon) “I have found out our location, but...”

...

(Towa) “T-Those people who attacked Remire Village are here?!”

(Laura) “Not only that, they are watching us...”

(Sara) “The real question is why didn’t that guy named Lahabrea give the order to attack?”

(Millium) “Yeah, he would have kicked our butts while we were sleeping!”

(Sharon) “That is the next part I was about to bring up. He freely admitted that his friends would like nothing more than to kill us, he said he offers his hand in friendship.”

(Alisa) “I’m not sure I’m ready to believe that considering what his group’s done to us.”

(Rean) “...So, after that he said our friends are in Fhirdiad, right? Does that mean the rest of House Isekai is in there?”

(Crow) “Wouldn’t get our hopes up, honestly. First of all we’re in Fhirdiad, from what I remember from our history lessons, Faerghus actively supports them.”

(Gaius) “And it’d be safe to assume we’re basically wanted criminals of the Church AND Faerghus.”

(Machias) “Well, what better choices do we have than to go to Fhirdiad? There isn’t any other town nearby for miles.”

(Rean) “We should at least go and see how bad the situation is over there first. It’ll give Valimar some time to recharge anyway.”

(Vailmar) I will have recharged back to full power by the time you need me.

(Fie) “Alright, then let’s go.”

Throne Room in Fhirdiad...

[Will and Reason - Tales of Berseria OST]

Knights of Seiros clad in ornate white armor walked past the guards towards a blonde man who sat on a throne next to his advisors.

(Knight Captain) “King Dimitri, you will heed our words and do so carefully!”

(Dimitri) “Very well. You have my full attention, Lord-Captain.”

(Knight Captain) “Several of our own have claimed that you have been conspiring with heretics these past few moons-”

(Dedue) “By what right do you accuse his highness of such treachery?!-”

(Dimitri) “Dedue, you will stand down.”

(Dedue) “...I beg your forgiveness for my outburst, your highness.”

(Knight Captain) “Hmph. These claims originate from knights, laborers, and even of your own forces. We are not so keen to pass judgement, lest we would have sent inquisitors instead of myself.”

(Dimitri) “Your trust is most grateful, Lord-Captain.-”

(Knight Captain) “And that trust has its limits, King Dimitri. You will quell these rumors by following the order of Seiros without fault by the coming days, or you will answer to the goddess herself!”

The knights turned around and marched out the room, letting Dimitri take a sigh of relief, sitting back into his throne.

(Dimitri) “I think it would have been best if you remained silent, Dedue. Their inquisitors have been known to behead those even showing any slight signs of antagonistic feelings towards the Church.”

(Dedue) “They do have to believe we’re on their side, with all due respect.”

(Dimitri) “Fair enough.”

Dimitri stood up and walked to a room nearby.

Several people wearing red armbands turned to the door and saw Dimitri open it, shaking his head.

[Troubled - Persona 3 OST]

(Dimitri) “We’ve been too careless with our actions as of late.”

(Minato) “Think they’re onto us?”

(Minako) “Psh, you hear how pissed off that guy was? Definitely!”

(Mitsuru) “Then that means we need to get out of here before they start sending Inquisitors.”

(Dedue) “Agreed. All of our group is ready to leave. What about the rest of S.E.E.S?”

(Mitsuru) “We’ve gathered our things and ready for the order.”

(Minako) “I’m worried what will happen to the Capital when we leave though...”

(Minato) “Almost everyone follows the Church more than Dimitri anyway, I think they’ll be fine. They don’t know the truth like we do after all...”

(Dimitri) “We leave for Enbarr in the dawn then. We’ll figure out someway to liberate Fodlan from their madness.”

A knocking came at the door, which made everyone go dead silent.

Minato, Minako, and Mitsuru slowly reached for their evokers while Dimitri and Dedue stood at the doorway.

Dimitri cleared his throat and shouted at the door.

(Dimitri) “What is the meaning of this interruption? We are in the middle of an important meeting!”

(Sylvain’s Voice) “Jeez, what’s crawled up your butt toda-”

THWACK!

(Sylvain’s Voice) “OW! H-HEY THAT HURT!”

(Ingrid’s Voice) “If you don’t take this more seriously, I will make it REALLY HURT. Ugh, apologies your highness! It’s just us two.”

Dedue opened the door for them as they walked in.

Shutting the door behind them, Ingrid bowed while Sylvain continued to stand firm.

(Sylvain) “Our remaining forces have agreed to make sure the Church doesn’t burn the place down while we’re gone.”

(Ingrid) “And we have our stories in place for when we depart.”

(Dimitri) “Perfect, my thanks. Now let’s-”

(Ingrid) “Actually your highness, there was one more thing I wanted to report. It...might cause some complications in our plan.”

(Minato) “What kind of complication?”

(Ingrid) “I just received a report from a pegasus knight patrol that stated they found some sort of statue kneeling by itself in the outskirts of Fhirdiad. It wasn’t there before, and looked far too heavy for someone to have just placed it there overnight.”

(Mitsuru) “Were they able to see what it looked like?”

Ingrid nodded and turned to the S.E.E.S members.

(Ingrid) “They ran back to me as soon as they found it, so I went to investigate myself. It looked like an Ashen Knight.”

(Minako) “An Ashen...-” !!! “Rean?!”

(Mitsuru) “Class VII!”

(Sylvain) “Oh, great! That means our caravan just became that much more secure!”

(Dimitri) “Ingrid, Sylvain, we are heading out right now to find Class VII, then we journey to Enbarr, alert everyone to the news!”

(Ingrid) “Yes, your highness!”

(Sylvain) “Got it!”

Dedue grabbed a nearby sword and shield as Dimitri went out of the room.

(Dimitri) “I will get Areadbhar, I trust you to find your classmates, S.E.E.S.”

The members of S.E.E.S nodded as Dedue and Dimtiri left.

(Mitsuru) “Fuuka, do you hear me?”

(Fuuka’s Voice) “I do, Mitsuru-senpai!”

(Mitsuru) “Good, we’re beginning the operation! Intiate Phase 1!”

...

Church in Fhirdiad 

Mercedes sat in one of the pews, making a silent prayer to the Goddess.

She was one of many attending the service that day. Unlike them, she was praying that everyone in all the territories would be saved from this ruthless tyranny that made a mockery of the real church she knew.

And that Those Who Slither in the Dark would find defeat at their hands.

Once she finished, she saw Annette take a seat next to her.

(Annette) “Mercie, we’ve got to go now.”

Mercedes nodded and the two of them stood up. As they were leaving, they were stopped by guards.

They were Knights of Seiros.

(Knight 1) “The service hasn’t ended yet, and you just got here.”

(Annette) “S-Sorry! We have an important meeting to get to is all and-”

(Knight 2) “-And you would forsake the teachings of Seiros? You might as well be a heretic with what you’re doing little girl!”

(Mercedes) “We are supposed to be learning the words of the Goddess, not Seiros herself!”

The knights stepped closer to them, but Mercedes did not back down.

(Knight 1) “Speak your next words very carefully...”

Mercedes smiled.

(Mercedes) “Can you get these two out of our way, please?”

(Knight 1) “What?”

It was then that knight noticed that everyone’s shadow was completely enveloped by something far larger than them.

The knights slowly turned around to see what was behind them.

They dropped their weapons upon realizing who it was.

(Knight 2) “G-GODDESS HELP US...”

Doomguy motioned to Annette and Mercedes towards the door. 

They nodded and made a run for it as he grabbed both of the knights by the head, and tossed the first one towards the front of the pews. 

Several people screamed once they saw Doomguy walking up, still holding the second knight in his hand.

(Woman) “W-Who is that?!”

(Man) “H-He bears the mark of the beast!”

(Priest) “BACK DEMON! THE POWERS OF SEIROS WILL STRIKE YOU DOWN IF-”

The second knight grabbed a knife that was on his belt and attempted to stab Doomguy’s arm.

Using his free arm, Doomguy grabbed his hand and with a loud crack, snapped his wrist to face the opposite side of his arm.

Doomguy dropped the knight as he screamed in pain, slowly walking up to the priest.

(Priest) “IF...I-IF...!”

Doomguy looked at the statue he was standing in front of, one that looked similar to Rhea.

Doomguy wanted it gone.

He picked up the priest by the collar and tossed him behind him, making everyone get up in fear.

(Man) “GODDESS! A MAN OF UNTOLD STRENGTH, A MAN WHO HAS THE MARK OF THE BEAST?!”

Doomguy pulled out a rocket launcher and aimed it at the statue-

(Man) “IT’S THE DOOMSLAYER!”

-And pulled the trigger.

KABOOOOOOOOOM!

Mercedes and Annette saw several knights rushing into the temple as people left it screaming.

(Mercedes) “Phase 1′s going off just as planned! Now we need to find a way out of here.”

(Annette) “Right! Ashe said he knows a way, so let’s get to him fast!”

...

Rean looked at the entrance to Fhirdiad and saw several Knights of Seiros alongside Faerghus soldiers.

(Fie) “No way we’re getting in. Too much security.”

(Angelica) “Doubt anyone from House Isekai’s in there.”

(Jusis) “Then we’re better off asking where our classmates are in another location.”

They all nodded and prepared to move before-

KABOOOOOOOOOM!

[Atrocious Raid - The Legend of Heroes: Trails of Cold Steel OST]

Everyone in Class VII turned around and saw the smoke rising in the distance.

(Machias) “The hell was that?!”

(Elliot) “An explosion?!”

Several of the soldiers looked back in confusion, turning to each other and giving out orders.

All of the security force began to scramble as more explosions occurred throughout the city.

Several soldiers were blown back by another explosion. From the smoke, students with a red armband ran out the gates and away from the city.

(Towa) “Look, it’s the Arisato’s group!”

(Sara) “Hmph. Looks like that bastard wasn’t lying after all!”

Several knights chased after S.E.E.S, making Class VII unsheathe their weapons.

(Rean) “Class VII, with me!”

(Everyone) ‘Right!”

...

“PERSONA!”

Both of them spun around and pulled the trigger on their evokers, summoning the Persona, Thanatos.

Some of the knights following them faltered in their steps seeing such a ghastly figure being summoned, but the veterans charged without hesitation.

The first knight was completely knocked into the air as if he were a ragdoll by Thanatos swinging his sword.

The second knight tried going for the legs, and ended up getting kicked by the Persona.

The veterans stopped in their tracks seeing what happened, trying to figure out what to do.

Before any of them could form a plan, Thanatos disappeared, leaving Ken and Junpei standing in front of them, evokers to their heads.

(Junpei) “HERMES!”

(Ken) “NEMESIS!”

A wall of fire erupted in front of the knights, making all of them back away and they continued to make their escape.

As S.E.E.S moved closer to the nearby forest, they were cut off by several pegasus knights.

(Akihiko) “Damn it!”

(Pegasus Knight) “YOU ARE NOT GETTING AWAY, HERETICS!”

Another group of knights rushed behind their flank, beginning to surround them.

(Shinjiro) “Tch, we got a plan B?”

(Yukari) “Yeah, fight our way out!”

(Junpei) “Oh, that’s a greaaat, idea! You got enough arrows in that quiver for all these bastards thats after us?!”

Fuuka’s Persona formed around her and she scanned the area.

(Fuuka) “Everyone, we have energy signatures incoming!”

(Ken) “Crap, are they inquisitors?!”

(Fuuka) “N-No! Wait, that can’t be right...I think Lucia is detecting-”

(Boy’s Voice) “SECOND FORM, GALE!”

A red blur sped across the pegasus knights, with that blur ending up in front of S.E.E.S.

(Akihiko) “What was that?!”

Rean turned around and saw the weapons of the pegasus knights fall apart, all of them looking in confusion as to what happened.

(Minako) “Rean!”

(Minato) “Heh, saves us the trouble of finding you guys at least!”

Emma and Elliot casted a spell in the middle of the pegasus squad, the explosion knocking everyone away.

Machias blasted the heavier knights with his shotgun, catching them all by surprise.

Before they could get back up, Jusis jumped in with Machias.

(Jusis & Machias) “ARCUS, ACTIVATE!”

Jusis’s rapier sliced the weapons away from any knights attempting to counterattack, with Machias aiming his gun at the knights coming from their sides.

A wire shot out from the trees at their legs, making the teams fall, unable to get back up.

Sharon giggled as she hopped down the trees and brandished her knife.

(Sharon) “It is good to see you again, everyone!”

The rest of Class VII joined S.E.E.S and had their weapons ready to fight.

(Sara) “Don’t you worry your little heads, your teacher is here!”

(Minato) “Hah, not yet they aren’t!”

A lone pegasus came riding down from the skies, with everyone pointing their weapons at him, until realizing who was on it.

Numerous small black objects dropped from the rider, with incoming knights looking at their feet.

An explosion of ice froze them all on the spot completely solid.

Jumping off the pegasus, with it wildly flying off into the air, Doomguy took out a shotgun.

(Minako) “NOW they’re here!”

(Angelica) “Ouch, how’s that feel Instructor?”

(Sara) “S-Shut up you guys!”

Towa giggled as she reloaded her pistol.

(Towa) “Welcome back, sir!”

Doomguy gave them a thumbs up, with more soldiers starting to surround them.

This time, it was Kingdom soldiers instead of knights.

The soldiers made way for Dimitri as he stepped forward.

Dimitri was wearing a bright white and blue battle armor, wielding his relic weapon.

(Dimitri) “House Isekai! You trespass on holy grounds! Surrender yourself to the Church, or we will kill you!”

Class VII intensified their battle stances.

Doomguy slowly inched his way towards Fie as Dimitri continued talking.

He poked her in the arm without trying to draw too much attention.

(Fie) “What is it?”

He pointed at her belt, which had several grenades on it.

(Fie) “Here, take the frag-”

Doomguy shook his head and pointed more aggressively.

(Fie) “...My flashbang?”

Doomguy nodded.

She shrugged and gave it to him.

(Fie) “Whatever you’re doing, make it-”

Doomguy fired his weapon wildly into the air, and put the flashbang into his shoulder cannon.

(Fie) “...Subtle.”

The soldiers stepped back in confusion, and the flashbang was fired into the air.

(Fuuka) “EVERYONE, GET DOWN!”

With the flashbang going off, everyone became blinded, except for House Isekai, and Dimitri.

Knights and soldiers struggled to see what was going on as Dimitri was dragged into the bushes by an unknown hand.

(Rean) “What the?!-”

(Familliar Voice) “Psst, guys!”

Looking to his right, Ashe revealed himself behind a tree.

(Ashe) “Get in before they see you all!”

S.E.E.S moved in without hesitation. After seeing them do so, Class VII joined in soon after.

The soldiers recovered and saw that their king and House Isekai was nowhere to be seen.

(Knight) “They captured King Dimitri?!”

(Soldier) “Not for long! MEN, SPREAD OUT!

The soldier looked at the knight.

(Soldier) “We’ll look for his highness, we’ll-”

(Knight) “AND WHO ARE YOU TO GIVE ME ORDERS?! Fine, look for the king, we will restore order to Fhirdiad!”

The Knights of Seiros quickly moved back to the city as the soldiers of Faerghus scrambled.

(Soldier) “...Prick.”

(Soldier 2) “Their escape route is secure, now let’s get ‘looking’ shall we sir?”

(Soldier) “Right. I sure hope those kids know what they’re doing...”

...

(Dimitri) “Agh, Felix, you didn’t have to drag me that hard...”

(Felix) “Shut up. It had to be believable.”

(Ingrid) “Felix, you should be a bit more respectful!”

(Felix) “Alright. Shut up, your highness.”

Ingrid sighed as the rest of House Isekai was catching their breath.

(Ashe) “I’m not sure where you guys came from, but we’re happy to have you!”

(Rean) “Hah, thanks Ashe.”

Rean looked around and saw the rest of the Blue Lions together, some conversing with members of S.E.E.S.

(Sara) “So, assumed we interrupted something?”

(Dimitri) “Yes, our escape. We would have let you known if...well, we knew you were coming. We had to improvise at the end there.”

(Sharon) “I’m sure it will be a riveting tale, but I think we should get moving, your soldiers are looking for us as we speak.”

(Dedue) “I would not worry about them. The soldiers are aware of our plan, and are helping to lead us out of Faerghus.”

(Rean) “Outside the country?”

(Minato) “We’ll let you know what exactly we’re doing soon. For now, I’d say we take Sharon’s advice and get out of here.”

Everyone nodded and began to move through the forest.

Accidentally bumping into Faerghus soldiers “looking” for them, they were guided to a path that was to be secured for their escape out of Faerghus.

(Dedue) “We are now approaching the city’s border, and will be out of Fhirdiad territory soon.”

(Junpei) “Ugh, my legs! You think we could’ve taken a carriage out of here or something?”

(Crow) “I’m with Iori here, if we’re seriously walking out of here on foot, I think I’ll die.”

(Woman’s Voice) “No, you’ll die regardless.”

(Everyone) !?

[Those Who Sow Darkness - Fire Emblem: Three Houses OST]

Gaia teleported in front of the group, making everyone draw their weapons.

(Sharon) “Ah, these are the ones I confronted in the forest. Though there is quite a few of them now.”

(Dimitri) “What is the meaning of this?!”

(Gaia) “House Isekai cannot be allowed to live and interfere with the grand plan!”

(Dedue) “What?! We had a deal with Lahabrea!”

(Class VII) ?!

(Gaia) “Lahabrea is a traitor, and I will deal with him too, after I have seen your corpses!”

(Rean) “You made a deal with them, knowing what they did?!”

(Dimitri) “We will talk of that later, Rean!”

Dimitri pulled out his lance.

[The 13th Dilemma - Kingdom Hearts 2.5 OST]

Gaia’s hand went over her mask, a red crest symbol forming and glowing in front of the mask.

(Gaia) “Lahabrea seemed so afraid of you all, but I will show him that he was wrong to fear you children! WITNESS THE POWER OF THE AGARTHANS!”

Crow, Machias, Fie, Towa, and Doomguy raised their guns and opened fire, the bullets being absorbed by a dark circle protecting her.

Gaia teleported farther into the air and summoned multiple fireballs to rain to them.

Emma and Elliot summoned a protective sphere to shield them from the blast, but after the first one collided, the shield broke. 

The second one was about to hit them before they dodged out the way, igniting the ground into flames.

Sara reached for her pistol, only to be met with nothing in her holster.

(Sara) “Byleth...!”

Shaking her head, Sara forced herself to ignore that. This was not the time to remember something like that.

Ashe got behind Gaia’s line of sight and let loose an arrow. It slipped by the magical shield and grazed her arm, leaving her robe cut and a small bleeding wound.

Teleporting back down and directly behind Ashe, she raised her hand to his head ready to blow it off.

Thanatos’s sword slammed down in front of her, her head instead almost getting cut off.

It roared into the air as her hand quickly formed another spell, firing it into Thanatos, sending the Persona into a tree.

Minato and Minako felt the blow in their backs which made them kneel over in pain.

Laura swung her sword downwards at Gaia’s position.

The force of the sword’s impact obliterated the ground beneath them, making it fly upwards with chunks of debris flying into the air.

Gaia tumbled over into the trees, surrounded by Blue Lions and members of S.E.E.S.

(Sylvain) “Come on, a pretty lady like you should know when to surrender!”

(Ken) “...Really, Sylvain?”

(Gaia) “HAH, IT IS YOU ALL WHO SHOULD KNOW WHEN TO LIE DOWN AND DIE!”

With a swipe of her hand, they were all blown back.

Everyone with a firearm aimed at Gaia again until her crest glowed even brighter and an ear piercing screech came from below the ground.

A massive horn erupted from the ground, sending them into the air and falling harshly onto the floor.

A skeletal beast that resembled some sort of horned wolf screamed into the air, looking at everyone.

(Annette) “Crap, demonic beasts?!”

Doomguy was slightly disappointed it didn't have guts he could tear open, but he made do with it.

Jumping directly into the fight with it, he activated his wrist blade and slashed at its body, bones from its stomach area flying off, but having almost no effect.

Sharon used her wires to surround the legs, but it was too strong for her and snapped them off with ease.

Felix, Sylvain, and Ingrid had their weapons strike the beast’s head at the same time, but they failed to even make a scratch on the bone.

(Millium) “LAMMY!”

A contraption spawned behind Millium and flew towards the front of the beast alongside Laura, Dimitri, and Dedue.

They all used their brute strength to meet its swipe, but they were flung to the side, all landing on each other.

Jusis and Gaius’s weapons deflected off the beast when they tried to attack from behind, the monster roaring in response.

(Gaia) “AHAHAHAHA! THIS IS WHAT LAHABREA WAS AFRAID OF? CHILDREN WHO CAN’T EVEN FIGHT AGAINST ONE OF THE WEAKEST SUMMONS?!”

(Rean) “Alright then, we’re up next!”

Gaia turned to Rean, raising an eyebrow underneath her mask.

[Awakening - The Legend of Heroes: Trails of Cold Steel II OST]

(Rean)

“Heed my call...

Despite being miles apart, Valimar’s eyes glowed in response.

Valimar stood up, scaring the multiple knight and Faerghus soldiers investigating him.

Bending its legs, Valimar jumped and flew off into the distance towards Rean.

Gaia sensed a magical energy that was beyond her comprehension and spun around, seeing Valimar overhead.

(Sara) “Hah, you’ve done it now!”

(Minako) “WOOO! GIANT ROBOT FIIIGHT!”

(Minato) “KICK HER ASS, REAN!”

Doomguy raised a hand into the air, forming the “rock on!” sign.

Valimar behind Rean, kneeling down.

(Rean) “Valimar, let’s take ‘em down!”

(Valimar) Acknowledged, Awakener!

Rean teleported into the cockpit and the camera turned on, seeing the skeletal beast in front of him.

The skeletal beast made the first move, its jaws grabbing onto Valimar’s arm.

Valimar spun around, the momentum sending the beast into the trees, making several fall over from the impact.

It got back up an ran back to Valimar, Valimar sheathing the greatsword in response.

Right as the beast was about to bite Valimar again, the sword struck upwards.

The strike cut off half the body and part of its leg, the bones flying off into the distance.

The beast landed into the floor, scrambling to get up.

(Gaia) “I-IMPOSSIBLE!”

Gaia prepared to fire several spells before Valimar’s head turned to her.

The spells fired off from her hands and made its mark, but the spell had no effect on Valimar’s body.

Valimar leapt forward, swinging the massive sword into the ground, shaking all the trees in their area from the impact.

Gaia was too slow, and got an arm severed from Valimar, making her scream in pain.

Parts of her mask was blown off from the strike, and she fell onto the floor unable to get up.

The beast rushed towards Valimar, only for Valimar to step to the side, dodging the attack. Valimar planted the sword downwards into the monster’s skull.

It pierced through from the top of the skull to the jaw, the sword being planted deep into the ground.

In an instant, the beast stopped moving, but Valimar left the sword in the head and moved to the body.

Valimar grabbed the tail of the beast and moved backwards, severing the skeletal head from the rest of its body.

Throwing its body into the trees, dark energy left the head as it crumpled into dust.

Seeing Gaia bleeding profusely on the ground nearby, Valimar sheathed its sword and knelt down, letting Rean teleport out.

(Gaia) “Hah...S-So this is the power of House Isekai...!”

She slowly stood up, with everyone’s weapons still drawn. Her mask was still barely intact, but they could now see an eye and her mouth.

(Gaia) “R-Rest assured...this is NOT the last you have seen of me!”

She attempted to teleport, but nothing happened.

Gaia noticed that everyone was now looking behind her, something suddenly making her entire body jolt.

(Man’s voice) “Didn’t I tell you to have patience, my uncivil companion?” 

[Those Who Sow Darkness - Fire Emblem: Three Houses OST]

They could see her eye go wide, her mouth slowly opening, blood slowly coming out of her mouth.

(Lahabrea) “And would you look at that? Your overconfidence caused your downfall by the Ashen Knight.”

He walked to her side with an arm still behind her.

(Lahabrea) “And you have caused my guests unnecessary trouble. I don’t think I will forgive that.”

Gaia fell to her knees and into the ground, a knife sticking out of her back.

She was reaching her hand out, trying to say something, but all that came out was blood.

(Lahabrea) “You could have lived long enough to see the new era unfold, but alas you are too rooted to our worthless traditions. A pity.”

Raising his hand, he fired a spell that covered her entire body, making it slowly disappear into a dark cloud.

Lahabrea pulled out a vial, and her essence was transferred inside of it.

He turned to the others and took a bow.

(Lahabrea) “I do hope none of you came under harm due to her treachery.”

Class VII kept their weapons out, but S.E.E.S and the Blue Lions stepped forward.

(Dimitri) “I trust this will be the only time an interference like this occurs?”

(Lahabrea) “Of course. I always work alone, but was forced to bring her along. I will say she...hm...Died to an inquisitor, that will work.”

(Rean) “Dimitri, what’s going on, why are you guys working with them?!”

(Dimitri) “...When did you wake up, Rean?”

(Lahabrea) “Not too long ago, Class VII awoke this morning in the outskirts of Fhirdiad.”

(Minato) “Hm. Fortunate.”

(Minako) “We’ve only been here for a month, but trust us, we need his help.”

(Lahabrea) “You will be here for quite some time if you talked, so I recommend pickiing up the pace.”

Lahabrea bowed again and raised his hand to teleport.

(Lahabrea) “I must be off on an errand, but we will see each other soon, King Dimitri.”

Dimitri nodded and gestured goodbye, Lahabrea nodding in response and teleporting away.

(Dimitri) “We will explain everything on the way to Enbarr. It has been a long four years...”

(Crow) “Enbarr? Why Enabrr? I thought you hated Edelgard.”

(Dimitri) “I did...Before I knew the truth. Before Byleth told me.”

(Sara) “Byleth, he’s alive?!”

(Dimitri) “He is, but he left as suddenly as he appeared. That was about three years ago now. I have no idea as to what he’s doing now.”

(Sara) “I...I see.”

(Dedue) “We will divulge the full story another time. We must make our way to Enbarr now.”

(Rean) “Why, what’s happening at Enbarr?”

(Minato) “They’re under siege by the Church, but we have no idea if they’ll still be alive by the time we arrive.”

(Rean) “Then we need something a bit faster than carriages!”

The members of House Isekai turned to face Valimar.

(Valimar) Acknowledged. Opening Spirit Portal to Enbarr..

-----

Garreg Mach Monastery, Present Day...

[Mezame no Waltz - School-Live! OST]

Sitri sat alone in Jeralt’s old room, reading his journal of what had happened during those twenty years she had been dead for.

Yuri was kind enough to give it to her while they waited for any signs of other classmates approaching the monastery.

She had finished it yesterday, but couldn’t help herself to reread it again.

Jeralt had truly loved her...It must’ve been tough to raise Byleth alone, but from what everyone’s told her, he grew up to be a good man.

While she was reading, she heard a loud crash from outside the room.

She yelped in response and slowly went to the door, seeing Kazuma and Yuki at the end of the hallway.

(Kazuma) “Ah shi-...I mean dam-Agh!”

(Yuki) “Um...y-you can swear if you want to, Satou.”

(Kazuma) “Ugh, no I can’t! Your classmates and Megunee would kill me for letting you hear all that stuff.”

(Yuki) “I don’t think swearing is as severe as...well...all of this.”

Yuki looked to the floor sadly with Kazuma struggling to say the right thing.

(Sitri) “Um...-”

Both Yuki and Kazuma jumped.

(Yuki & Kazuma) “AGH!”

Sitri couldn’t help laugh, quickly covering her mouth, but still smiling.

(Sitri) “O-Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you! Is everything okay?”

(Yuki) “Ye-...N-No. We dropped the food we were going to give you while you were here...”

(Kazuma) “Yeah, sorry ‘bout the mess.”

(Sitri) “Do you need some help cleaning up?”

(Kazuma) “Huh? N-No, we couldn’t make you clean up OUR mess. I’d hate that if it were given to me.”

(Yuki) “But you don’t like doing any work Satou-”

(Kazuma) “Shush, Yuki.”

(Sitri) “It’s no problem, now let me see...”

After a few moments, they cleaned up the broken plate shards, and threw them away.

(Yuki) “Thank you, Miss Eisner!”

(Sitri) “Oh, you don’t have to call me that. Please just call me by my first name.”

(Kazuma) “Uh...T-Thanks, Sitri.”

(Sitri) “Of course.”

Kazuma couldn’t look her in the eye.

Sitri reminded him too much of Wiz. And just like Wiz, Sitri seemed to have the kindest personality massive boo-

(Kazuma) No. Kazuma, head out of the gutters and into the right place. Right betwe-NO. THIS IS THE PROFESSOR’S MOTHER.

(Yuki) “You know, you remind me a lot of Megunee, Sitri!”

(Sitri) “Megunee...? Oh, you mean Megumi Sakura! Why’s that?”

(Yuki) “You’re super pretty and nice! Even though you really don’t know us that well, you’re looking out for everyone!”

Sitri blushed a little and laughed.

(Sitri) “T-Thank you, Yuki. That’s high praise from what you’ve told me about her.”

(Kazuma) “Anyways, sorry for bothering you. Do you want us to bring you some new food or?”

(Sitri) “No no, I’ll come down to eat with everyone.”

(Kazuma) “Alright let’s-”

(Ainz’s Voice) “Kazuma, do you hear me? Kazuma?!”

(Kazuma) “Eh? Yes, I’m Kazuma-”

(Ainz’s Voice) “We have people approaching with Class VII, S.E.E.S, Doomguy! We think they’re the Blue Lions!”

(Yuki) “D-Dimitri’s here?”

(Kazuma) “On our way to the gates, see you there!”

Everyone nodded and moved towards the entrance.

-----

[Rain (Deference for Darkness) - Halo 3: ODST OST]

Year 1, Faerghus territory, nearing the border of the Adrestian Empire...

Byleth woke up with a violent jolt in his body, eyes wide and breathing heavily.

After a few moments of silence, he slumped back and sighed.

Another nightmare...

A distant explosion brightened the dark skies as he got out of a ruined building, stretching.

He stared with indifference to the battle happening far below him.

Imperial and Faerghus soldiers clashed into each other, trying to gain this territory for the war effort.

Byleth would be long gone by the time this battle would end. 

He passed by a man dressed in black who was leaning against the door.

(Lahabrea) “Finally awake, I see. And where are we going?”

Byleth walked silently past Lahabrea, holding tightly onto Sara’s pistol as he did.

Byleth did his best to try and forget about that nightmare, but it would always come back to him. The battle of Garreg Mach had only been a month ago, so it’d make sense that it was still fresh in his head.

That fact didn’t make it any more comforting to him.

As he felt rain start to drop onto him, he thought about his plan on how to kill Edelgard and Rhea.

He was one man with a sword against 2 armies that controlled entire parts of Fodlan.

When the rain intensified, he put his jacket over his head and continued.

He heard footsteps behind him splashing in the rain but he refused to let his thoughts break off.

Even with his divine pulse, he would be severely out manned. Without help, he would die before he reached his goal.

(Lahabrea) “You’re headed the wrong way, you know-”

(Byleth) “Why are you following me?”

(Lahabrea) “I’d be lying to you, and you’d be an idiot for believing me if I said I was helping you for completely altruistic reasons. We both want to take Seiros down, but you need to focus hatred to the right people. We need Edelgard alive.”

That made Byleth stop in his tracks completely.

(Byleth) “...What?”

(Lahabrea) “Stop to think about it. Does Edelgard seem like the type to like what us Agarthans did, ESPECIALLY regarding Kronya, Remire village, and your fath-”

Byleth spun around and pointed Sara’s pistol at Lahabrea’s head.

(Lahabrea) “...Forgive my careless words. But my point stands.”

(Byleth) “...”

(Lahabrea) “Edelgard, like myself, actively voiced against attacking those innocents, and anyone of House Isekai. Why do you think she offered her hand to you so many times in the tomb?”

(Byleth) “So she could use us. We would have been tools for the Empire, just like we were tools for the church. Just like you Agarthans are tools for her.”

He stopped aiming the pistol at Lahabrea and continued to walk on his way.

(Lahabrea) “And so you think the Agarthans are completely loyal to her cause? We are to her, as I am to my own organization. We have the same goals, but different ways of achieving it. The demonic beasts that attacked the Monastery, Remire Village, and all those you encountered throughout that year was ours. Your hatred should be focused on the Agarthans, NOT the Empire.”

(Byleth) “Speak plainly of why you’re telling me this, Agarthan.”

(Lahabrea) “Because both Agarthans and Seiros must be put down before we end up blowing up this world all the way to the seven hells with the Javelin of Liberation.”

(Byleth) “...Explain.”

(Lahabrea) “Meet me at House Arundel’s territory, and I will reveal all I know.”

He began to teleport away, but looked at Byleth once more.

(Lahabrea) “Not only will you avenge your friends and family, but you can put an end to this vicious cycle of war that WE started, forever.”

With that, he disappeared.

Byleth stared at Sara’s pistol for a moment before finally holstering it, making his way to House Arundel.

PART 2: END

[Escape - Darling in the FranXX OST]

The forecasted rain wets us

What should I say to you, as you tremble? My soaked blazer is cold and heavy

I feel as helpless as a chick who's left its cage. I felt that my dreams were on the other side of the heavy clouds

I digested only the sweet pain that spread in my chest

I wonder if it'd be better if I'd never met you

Hey, I can't even see the stars

Hey, my tears won't fall either

To Be Continued in:

[revisionaryhistory]

Three Days ~ 53

~*~Sebastian~*~

That right there is exactly what I mean. We're talking about all the ways I've fucked up relationships. By all rights, she should have questions about how I'm going to do better. Why she should trust me and why she's scared I’ll fuck this up too. But her only question is what's different. And her response to my answer is to say she's sorry someone before her didn't ask what I needed. That's why I don't shut down and why I’m not scared. I don't have to protect myself from her, she cares about me separate from her and separate from us.

I pulled her onto my lap because this had been an intense conversation. I needed the physical part to ground me. I needed to be close, to feel her. Something tangible to complete the connection. Not sex. Not yet anyway. We're not done talking. Sex doesn't solve anything. It distracts and covers up. Learned that one the hard way.

Once Emma was settled, I brushed her hair over her shoulders and put my hands on her face. I felt her hands on my ribs. Her warmth soaking through my shirt to spread over my skin. I looked at her for long seconds, knowing what I held in my hands was precious. Keeping myself in check, I pressed my mouth to hers. Instantly I felt the amazing mix of relaxation and excitement. Her lips fell open and she slowly licked across my upper lip. I smiled before joining in. I moved my hands to her back, holding her gently.

I don't know how long we stayed like that. Kisses and caresses stayed soft. We were just enjoying each other. I put my hands under her arms, lifting her and putting her back on the couch. I wrapped my fingers around hers, "You know the me my friends know. Well, you know several things they don't."

She smirked, "I get the idea."

"We're going to fight. We're going to annoy each other. We'll probably unintentionally hurt each other. Not shutting down is going to be new for me, but we'll figure it out."

"Sounds good." Emma leaned forward and kissed me. "You gonna tell me what you all talked about while we were in the other room?”

This is what I meant last night when I locked my mouth and thought about giving her the key. "I have a dilemma. We were all drunk. Eli might have said some things he shouldn't have. He’s your best friend. I don't want you mad at him or him mad at me for what he said.”  She started to say something and I held up my finger for her to wait. "But, if you want to know, if you ask, I’m going to tell you. My loyalty is to you."

I watched her think, but I knew what she was going to decide. "I want to know."

"I knew you would. I would. Here's the thing. He was trying to protect you. Will asked how your family knew Ed. I didn't know and Eli said he didn't want me to ask you. I think he wanted me to know enough to understand I shouldn't push."

"You wouldn't."

"He doesn't know me well enough to know I wouldn’t. I have no business poking around anyone else's painful memories. I have my own. I get to decide who, what, and when I talk about shit. So do you."

"Now I’m really worried.

"No need." I kissed her hand and held it against my chest. Nothing he'd said bothered me, except I knew it would stir up shit for her. I didn't want her to feel those memories. "He said Amy was addicted to heroin, but you never did more than coke." I pointed to myself and waved my hand, "We'll talk about our cocaine years another time." I liked her smile. "Both of you were sent to rehab. You got home first and were doing good until Amy got home. She was mad because you were doing better than she was. You needed different things, so you went to Seattle. He's a little angry at your parents for that." I was pretty sure she knew. Eli doesn't strike me as being able to bite his tongue. "Then there was a lot of really sweet stuff about Ed not signing guardianship back over, doing all the college shit, coming to games, offering to buy you a place so you didn’t have to go back to Georgia, and when Ed says you’re his daughter he means it. Eli did point out Jimmy is still alive, so I'm less worried Ed's going to kill me for sleeping with you." I left out the part about the money because talking about money is crass.

Emma took a minute to process, "I’m not mad at Eli. I'd already told you most and I get what he was going for. He's always been mad at my parents for choosing Amy. Here's the thing. I was doing better than Amy, but I wasn’t ok. I didn't want to party with my friends because they treated me differently and asked too many questions. My boyfriend broke up with me because a girlfriend fresh out of rehab didn't look good to college admissions counselors. I was going to be on probation for volleyball with weekly drug tests. But at least I wasn't addicted to heroin." Her last sentence was dripping with sarcasm.

I wanted to clarify, "So everything you were dealing with was less because at least you weren’t addicted to heroin."

She touched her finger to her nose, "Exactly. It wasn’t just others, I did it to myself too. My parents didn't know what to do with us. I yelled and screamed how we didn't need to be together, how it was bad for both of us. They either couldn’t or wouldn't figure out what to do. I could. I called Ed, ready to beg him to get me out of there. I knew I was asking a lot. Olivia was four and Jill was pregnant. The last thing they needed was a troubled teenager. Luckily, Ed was a much more troubled teenager and up for the challenge. I wasn't any trouble though. I followed my rules and loved doing all the family things. I never had to be asked to help. Especially with the girls. Ed understood me and could listen without all the parental guilt and trying to defend or explain Amy. Volleyball was already underway and he fought for me. I don't know what he did or how he did it, but they let me try out and play."  She paused and I could tell she was fighting not to cry. "He was there for me when no one else was. He jumped my shit when I needed, made me laugh, and he'd hold me when I cried. He took care of me and loved me like I was his."

Tears fell down her cheeks. She didn't make a move to wipe them away. Her tears didn't bother her. They bothered me. I felt every one. I wiped the wet streaks and was relieved when there were no more.

"As horrible as that summer was, I wouldn't change a thing if it meant I lost the relationship I have with them."

I have a sick feeling in my stomach about the details making the summer horrible. Part of me wants to know. Part of me doesn't. I’m glad it's not my decision. I moved her hand from my chest to my mouth, "He loves you like you’re his. And you give that back. That's pretty special."

Emma nodded and dropped her forehead to my shoulder. I held her hand back to my chest and kissed the top of her head. Her shoulders started to shake. I wasn't sure if she was crying or laughing. I moved my head to look and she sat up. Laughing. Whew.

"Another good thing." She cringed, but with a smile. "Before rehab, I was not a very nice person."

I shook my head, "I don’t believe you."

Emma nodded, "I was a spoiled entitled little bitch. I was smart, so school was easy. I was a good athlete, so teachers let things slide. My parents had money, so I never wanted for anything. I was pretty, and that always helps in high school. I wasn't actively mean to people. It was more if I didn't know you, you were insignificant at best, invisible at worst. I lacked empathy and humility."

"Nope." I shook my head, "I don't know this person if you're talking about." She doesn't know the emotionally unavailable me and I don't know the bitch version of her.

She shrugged, "Adversity builds character. In rehab, I met many people with many different stories and learned we were not different. Smart, pretty, and money didn't protect me or Amy. So many times one bad decision spirals out of control. I wasn't big on talking in group. I just listened. I listened to stories and saw emotions. I didn’t pick apart how their stories weren't me and focused on how they were. I changed and through watching others I figured out who I wanted to be." She looked at me with raised eyebrows, "Does that make any sense?"

"I think so."

"I looked up to the others who were kind and supportive of others. They were both better for the interaction. I learned humility because I'd been knocked off my pedestal. I had to learn to advocate for what I wanted with actual reasons that didn’t include pretty, athlete, who could spend her parent’s money. Since I didn't talk a lot Trevor loaded me down with books to read. Smart worked here because I could understand and take what I needed to rebuild me. Eventually, I started talking in group. Not necessarily me needing time to talk, but helping others. I was good at explaining what I’d figured out and since I'd spent so long listening, I could relate things to their story, what they needed. Helping and making a difference in someone else’s life made me feel better than I ever had. Seattle was a fresh start. I got to re-invent myself without pressure from friends to change back. Nobody knew me." She shrugged. "I didn't let Ed buy me an apartment because I needed to prove to myself Jimmy was wrong and I could support myself. I agreed to him helping with a down payment and I know he fudged the numbers. He didn't have to. He wanted to. Plus, I'm still a little spoiled, but much more grateful."

I laughed, "Nothing wrong with being a little spoiled." Says the man who impulsively bought her a three hundred and sixty-five dollar handmade necklace last night.

Emma got a strange look on her face. One I'd not seen before. She looked uncertain, almost scared. "Does rehab make me not look good for you?"

I double blinked and startled. "No." Her question wasn't about me as much as those around me. The ways in which I didn't give a shit were too many to count. If anything, I wanted her more. She changed herself for the better. That's hard and I respect the work it took. I don't have college admissions counselors to impress. His excuse was bullshit anyway. He was in high school and I can't blame him for deciding he didn't want to deal with her problems. He was a kid. Rehab as a teenager isn't even a blip on the radar for anyone in entertainment. Fans are a different issue. Some will find a reason to hate her no matter what. They create reasons out of nothing. This would give them something real. "I was worried you were perfect and I'd forever feel unworthy."

She laughed, "That's disturbing."

"Isn't it? Real people have pasts, flaws, and scars. Yours make you more beautiful. Real is always better. I keep my private life private for a reason. No one I know will care. Fans?" I cringed," That's a subject for a conversation I don't want to have right now."

"Why?"

"It can wait. You go home too soon. We aren't done with this conversation and I don’t want to add a new topic to take up more time.” Emma nodded her agreement. "Has Amy relapsed?"

She pulled her eyebrows down and frowned, "Oh yeah, three times. Last time she got pregnant."

"She was using when she got pregnant? I guess you don't think about condoms when there's a needle in your arm." I immediately regretted the last sentence. "I’m sorry. That was insensitive."

Emma pressed her mouth to mine, "Exactly how it happened."

I tried to recover, "Is Katie ok?"

Crossing her fingers, she said, "So far."

"Good." I had this nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach. “You’re going back there. Should I be worried?”

“Nope.”

I locked onto Emma's eyes. I saw so much there. I ran my hand along her leg. "What do you need from me?" She looked at me strangely. "What Kirk and Alissa said."

Emma's confused face opened up, "Oh.” I like how she took a bit to think before pursing her lips and shaking her head. "Nothing. I'm good. We're good."

I got another kiss and her fingers stroking the back of my neck. I believed her.

She continued to play along the edge of my hair. "I don't think they meant anything negative. They liked you being you and didn't want me to misjudge the importance because I didn't know any different. I wasn't upset, but I didn't want distance to make my imagination go berserk."

"Keep doing the thing where you ask instead of letting things get out of control. I like your positive spin on their big mouths. I’m down to seriously annoyed."

"Good." She swung her legs off the couch. "Excuse me a sec."

I waited to hear the bathroom door close before digging out my phone and starting a small group chat with only two words. "Emotionally unavailable?"

I turned off my phone. I wasn't doing this now. Partly because I wasn't sure what I was annoyed about.

From the direction of my bedroom, I heard a whistle, then, "Vino aici, Sebasti-an." <come here>

Every nerve in my body fired simultaneously. I dropped my phone on the couch and headed her direction.

I should work on not being so easy.

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.

Yeah, like that's going to happen.

I stopped to lean against the door frame. Emma was fully dressed laying on my bed with her hands clasped over her stomach. Just chilling out. I started to smile, "Did you seriously just whistle for me? You thought that would work."

She raised an eyebrow and tried not to smile, "And where are you, Bastian?"

I laughed, "Exactly where you called me to be." I crawled across my bed, hovering over her. "I'm not stupid."

Her hands ran up my biceps to my shoulders, "I knew you'd come if I called."

Nice double entendre. I bent my arms to kiss her, "Not the only time I'm going to come today."

Pushing up with one leg, she wrapped the other over my lower back to pull me down. "Not if I have anything to say about it."

The feel of her body pressed under me killed any idea I had about a soft, slow build-up. Her warmth and the shape of her fitting against me combined with her "vine aici" made me hungry. Her mouth was warm and her tongue teased and tasted me too. I kissed her while she touched me. Hands on my back and ass. Not waiting much time before hers were up my shirt and pushing it off. My kisses, her touch, what we both needed, and the hunger feeding off itself. Good times.

I struggled out of my t-shirt, trying to not stop the kissing. Impossible. Emma took advantage of my loss of balance and pushed me onto my back. She sat astride me, her fingers moving over my stomach, her nails scraping over the places I liked most. Her hands pressed down on my shoulders as she bent over to kiss me. It didn't last long, but when she sat up, she peeled her shirt over her head. I smoothed my hands up her waist, watching the way her stomach jumped with my touch. Before I got to her breasts, she undid her bra and tossed it away. The way she moved against my cock while I played with her breasts felt so good. Even better when I squeezed her nipples and she ground down hard. I sat up enough to take her in my mouth. My reward was a soft moan and her fingers in my hair, holding me to her.

I didn't fight when she pushed me away. Better things were coming, starting with her getting rid of my shorts and settling between my legs. The softness of her breasts was on either side of my cock while she laid soft kisses on my stomach. The way she seemingly ignored my cock, while still giving it attention was one of my favorite things. It seemed like the contact was accidental. It was not. Neither was the precise placement of her open mouth and teasing licks on the exact right spot. I closed my eyes, leaned my head back with a groan, and stroked her head. She knew exactly what she was doing.

"Fuck." The shift of her mouth to my cock was both too quick and too long in coming. Her hair blocked my view, but I didn't need to see. She licked the length of me several times, pausing to suck me barely in the warmth of her mouth before licking me again. Her hand held my balls, fingers caressing underneath where they met my body. I was already a mess by the time she slid her mouth down my shaft. A finger pressing on my perineum took me higher. There were better ways to get where she was going.

My voice was shaky. "Do you know what you're doing to me?" The sentence was broken by a catch in my breathing and followed by a gasp when a deeper press answered my question.

Emma pulled off my cock, meeting my eyes and her tongue teasing the V under the head of my cock. "I know exactly what I'm doing to you."

I blindly dug into my nightstand drawer and tossed the bottle of lube down the bed, "Then do it."

The warmth of her mouth took me back in and a few seconds later her finger pushed slowly inside me. Slow was good. It had been a while, but when she hit my prostate I saw stars and remembered just how amazing this felt. I thought to tell her what felt best, but she figured it out. Possibly because I pulled the pillow out from under my head to use it to smother myself and dull the obscene noises I was making. Everything in my lower body contracted tighter and tighter, waiting to explode. When I couldn't breathe through the pillow, I threw it off the bed. I was close. I squirmed against the contact and between groans mumbled, "Harder."

Her firmer touch set off a nuclear reaction. I arched off the bed, fell back, and orgasmed for days. I couldn't open my eyes. I felt Emma's headrest on my hip. Maybe her fingers on my thigh. "I think I’m paralyzed from the waist down. I can't feel my legs." Her finger slipped back inside and a gentle tap had me convulsing again "Yep." Breathe. "Felt that." Breathe again. “Fuck."

[hoe-doroki]

Alright, friends, your local demi is going to take one last bow before ace week is up.

I’m going to talk about myself, because I the lived experience of ace and acespec people isn’t talked about enough and, well, this is the week to talk about it!

Now that that’s out of the way, let’s bring in a good ol’ frame of reference:

78% pure. For those who don’t know this is the rice purity test, where high scores mean you haven’t participated in many “racy” activities and low scores mean you have.

First, let’s state that I don’t want to put too much stock on this test. Only 3/4 of the questions are about sex and dating while the remaining 1/4 is about alcohol, drugs, and illegal activity. (Part of the reason my score is so high is because I, unrelated to being acespec, don’t drink or smoke.) But, like I said, it’s a place to start.

Stats. I’m a 24-year-old woman. I am cisgender, straight, and demisexual/demiromantic (not asexual or aromantic). I have never had a boyfriend, I have never enjoyed kissing, I have never had sex.

Oof, and right away, I’m embarrassed saying that.

And that’s the whole problem.

(This post clocks in at ~1.6k, so the rest is under the cut. Trigger warning for suicidal ideation.)

Well, not my whole problem, haha, but it is why I’m bothering to talk about this instead of keeping it secret, like I prefer to. I want to dispel some myths that harm the way I view myself and keep me from being honest with others. Because I fear that when people look at me and hear “24-year-old virgin” they assume things about me that just aren’t true.

First thing’s first. The fact that I’m a virgin means nothing except that I have not had sexual intercourse with another person. There are no other assumptions to be made.

It hurts when people are surprised by this. I happen to fall mostly into the barbed categories of American conventional attractiveness, so when people hear that I have never had a boyfriend or that I’m a virgin, they assume there’s something wrong with me. Or that past men I’ve been around have missed an opportunity or something.

This is shitty on two levels. One, the assumption that my stats are the way they are because of some failure sucks. All it should be is a reflection of my agency and the fact that I am the queen of saying no. (In fact, it was my first word.) But then people are assuaged by the fact that I have, in fact, been approached for sex, as though that confirms for them the value that they assumed I had. As though that’s where any of my worth should be coming from.

Two, these assumptions, when flipped, imply that it would “make sense” for me to have my stats if I looked different or was less neurotypical.

Media--as it does--has played a role in these assumptions. I think about the characters who are “later-in-life virgins” and I think of Emma Pillsberry from Glee, who deals with extreme OCD and germophobia. Or Sheldon and Amy from The Big Bang Theory, the former of whom might very well be acespec and is likely on the autism spectrum as well, but who is shown to be very antisocial with many difficulties forming interpersonal relationships and the latter of whom comes from a very conservative family and a mother who ensured she couldn’t learn social skills until well into her thirties. Or the “what if” episode of Friends that basically asserts that Monica would have been too fat to get laid. Or The 40-Year-Old Virgin, which I don’t wish to talk about. (Oof, all such problematic examples)

And yes, these characters are all white (I am not) and that’s a discussion for another post better made by someone who is more of a media expert than me.

These characters are all portrayed to have something that “explains” why they haven’t yet had the privilege of having sex. And we see in movies like The 40-Year-Old Virgin, or a whole host of teen movies, that virginity is something to conquer--especially for male characters.

I don’t look how people expect virginity to look. I’ll be real--I have high self esteem. I think I’m awesome inside and out and I don’t see any reason why I should be shy about that. I know that if I wanted to have sex with a stranger, I could do it tonight (covid notwithstanding--be safe, friends).

And even if I were a different person who had less self confidence or looked different or came from a different background, that wouldn’t mean that I “deserve” to be a virgin or whatever it is media is telling us. Virginity still wouldn’t have a damn thing to do with the other things that make up a person.

So, louder for the people in the back: being a virgin doesn’t mean that there’s anything wrong with me.

Next point. Being a virgin doesn’t mean that I’m innocent, a prude, or that I’m “waiting for marriage.”

Gosh, I’ve been asked if I’m waiting for marriage too many times. Two things. 1. No. I’d rather know my sexual compatibility with a partner before marriage and 2. I’m an atheist. So no.

Also, I am not innocent or a prude.

My lack of experience makes me feel infantilized. It does. That’s a personal issue of mine and, ya’ll, I don’t have many answers for how to overcome it. But I have done what I can to change that.

Guys, some of the best choices I’ve made in my adulthood are the things I’ve done to reclaim my sexuality (meaning sexualness not orientation) for myself. Not gonna get super nsfw here, but I’ve invested in about a dozen sex toys and I intend to buy more. They always makes me feel so much more adult and sexy. And I’ve done things with them that I feel pretty confident that many of my sexually active, allosexual friends haven’t done. This kind of thing isn’t for everyone acespec, but it helps me reclaim my worth as a sexual being, without needing a partner to validate that.

I’m also fully valid to write erotica! I love erotica and it’s another way I take back my sexuality. It is just as valid for me to write as it is for anyone else. I am capable of research--both on my own body and from resources, experts, and classes. I don’t need to have had sex for my opinion to matter.

Oh, and being acespec has nothing to do with my sex drive. It seems that I have a libido that is either average or slightly above average--I’m also a person that the more I’m engaging with my libido, the higher it gets.

This often feels like a curse. I, unlike many, but not all, acespec people, strongly desire sex. Like, I’ve bundled up a 35-pound weighted blanket on top of myself whilst engaging in self-pleasure just to try and make the activity feel more partnered (pro tip: that didn’t work.) The truth is that I’m really sick of having to take care of my libido by myself and would much rather have a partner.

But it’s not easy.

I’ve tried online dating, guys. Many times. I can’t do it. That’s not true of all acespec individuals, but it is for me, at least right now. For me, my demisexuality means that the idea and experience of going out, even on a casual date, with someone I’m not already interested in is nearly intolerable. And my current lifestyle, for many reasons, doesn’t lend itself well to me naturally forming crushes.

I’ve only had one major crush in my life. And it was 10 years ago. So you understand the difficulty.

I hate being demisexual, guys. I do. I wish that I could write this post with the intent of spreading pride and positivity, but I can’t. That’s not where I’m truthfully at yet. I’m lonely to the point of suicidal ideation. I’m too young for it, but I’m already making contingency plans for freezing my eggs or trying to imagine a future where I could be a single mother and...I can’t yet reconcile it. I know that part of this is my dreams being created in society’s image, but all I’ve ever wanted is to be a wife and a mother. And it’s hard to see that future when I can only look at my past and see images of silicone and sexual repulsion.

Remember when I said I’ve never enjoyed kissing? I’ve had more stage kisses than “real” kisses and, I have to say, the staged ones were more enjoyable because at least I wasn’t forcing myself to do them. Forcing myself to try to kiss someone so that I could feel “normal.” Forcing myself to kiss someone just because I was curious about what it was other people were talking about. My first “real” kiss was at 20 years old and it was a night where I forced myself to do a lot of things for the sake of catching up with my peers and I’ve been deeply uncomfortable with that experience ever since, and I can only be grateful that I stopped it as early in the evening as I did.

Everyone’s experience is so different, ya’ll. I haven’t heard a story like mine before, so in no way can I claim it to be an experience that widely represents demisexuality. It certainly doesn’t represent asexuality, nor how queerness (or many other things) intersects with either of those things.

But, at the same time, I’ve never heard a story like mine before. Do you know how helpful it would have been to have been able to see a story like this a few years ago? Ten years ago? It would have been life changing. Because even though, in the middle of all that self-confidence I spouted off about paragraphs ago, there’s this kernel of self-hatred stuck in my teeth, I would have felt validated. I would have felt seen. I would have been able to DM someone who could have told me, hey, it hurts and I know no one seems to understand you, but I do.

That’s to say, if anyone is going through something similar and wants to talk about it, my DMs are always open. I’m no expert, and I bet some of the things I’ve said here aren’t going to hit some people right, but this is my experience. This is the most intimate part of my life. It is a privilege that I’m sharing this with you all, so please, hold it with care. I hope this means something to someone.

Happy ace week, ya’ll.

Oh, and the rice purity test doesn’t mean shit. It’s good fun if you want, but if it makes you feel any kind of way because your number is too low or too high, throw it away. That’s not where any part of your value comes from.

[captcas]

Summer Clothes

SUMMER CLOTHES by capthamm

Killian Jones finds unexpected memories when searching for his winter jacket.Inspired by the song “Summer Clothes” by Marc Scibilia

read on ao3

The air coming through his open bedroom window has the indicative bite of winter’s dreaded arrival. While he was hoping to get a bit more use out of his leather jacket, he’d be a fool to try and brave Maine winters without his obnoxious (but warm) winter coat. Killian notices the lace-like pattern frost has woven along the window sill and lets out a hearty sigh. He rolls out of bed reluctantly and instantly feels the chill as his bare feet hit the hardwood floor. Shivering, a war rages in his head, back to bed or find the coat. Another gust of cold winter air whips through the open window, he hastily shuts it, and he swears the room warms up at least five degrees immediately. Killian turns to the rarely used storage closet in the back of his room, groaning loudly, as he’s almost certain the entirety of its contents will fall as soon as he opens the door. It’s not that he’s hiding from anything, it’s just sort of become his collection closet for things he’ll “deal with later” but never actually does. He adjusts the thermostat and throws on his wool socks before deciding this Saturday is as good as any to finally tackle the dreaded closet.

One and a half hours later and he’s finally found his jacket under a pile of other winter gloves, hats, and mittens that he hasn’t seen since March. He pauses when he realizes it’s thrown over a bin he doesn’t recognize. Killian drags the bin over by his bed and his knees buckle when he lifts the cover off. Her smell fills the room as memories flood his mind.

Killliiannn, I need somewhere to store this summer stuff.  

Just put it in the storage closet, love, that’s where I throw my off-season stuff.  

She left a few short weeks after that, saying she had a job offer in Boston she couldn’t refuse. She assured him it had nothing to do with their shared kiss at the town harvest festival and that he shouldnt uproot his life because of her.

She had no idea that she was his life.

Scratch that— is his life.  

Bloody hell.

He wished she had realized his life was promptly “uprooted” the moment she wasn’t a daily fixture in it. At first she called, texted, and FaceTimed him on a semi-regular basis but their schedules were no-longer synced and her life kept getting busier while life in Storybrooke was simple as ever. Slowly her absence became a new normal but even a year later he just feels like he’s going through the motions without purpose.

He’s thought about calling her more than once but couldn’t imagine what he’d say short of begging her to come home. He’d go see her if he had an address but she’s never been one for permanence.

If only his dumbass had remembered that before he fell head over heels in love with her.

He realizes he’s clutching her old sleep tee shirt she used to wear pretty much every night. She was always fascinated with the concept of a Neverland, a place of hope and trust and magic, so he bought her an oversized sleep shirt covered in Peter Pan regalia in hopes her dreams would take her far better places than her life had. She teared up when he gave it to her, J.M. Barrie’s stories apparently meaning more to her than he realized, and then she wore it to bed every night without fail. He liked to think it was because she felt safe in it… with him.

He smiles at the thought and decides to shoot her a text now that he finally has a coherent topic of conversation.

Hello, Swan. Hope all is well. Looking for my winter jacket, I found your summer clothes. I can send them to you or donate them? Let me know, love.  

He types an “I miss you” at the end but deletes it quickly, hoping the simplicity of his message will warrant a response. He’s surprised when she answers right away.

Killian! Hi! I knew I left that somewhere… it doesn’t happen to have my old running sneakers in there too? If you don’t mind sending it, that’d be great. I can pay you back for the shipping or whatever. I hope you’re doing well, too.

It’s more chipper than Killian expected and that’s probably what prompts him to pick up the phone and actually call her.

“Hello?”

“Hi, love. Forgive me but I don’t seem to have your address.” 

“Killian.”

He swears she whispers it, almost as if she’s telling a secret to herself and he does everything in his power to record it to memory. She hasn’t said anything else so he responds.

“Yes, Swan?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Address, right yeah, do you have somewhere to write it down?”  

“Shit, hold on.”

Killian scrambles to find any piece of scratch paper he can as fast as he can. He dreads the thought of returning to the line and finding she’s given up on him again.

“Hello?”

“Yes, Killian, I’m still here. He can practically hear her eye roll. I’m not that impatient.” 

“My memory must betray me then.” He hears her huff on the other side of the line and they easily fall back into the comfortable banter he’s missed since the day she said goodbye— or rather didn’t say goodbye. She had told him she was leaving obviously, but he didn’t expect it to be that night.

She just… left. His eyes water at the thought but he chokes it back.

“Ready when you are, Swan.”

“710 Nautica Drive,  Apartment #815,  Boston, Massachusetts 02108″

“Got it, love. Thank you.” 

“Of course! I mean, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. I’ll–”

They start to speak at the same time.

“How is everyone?” 

He hears nonchalance in her voice but can tell it’s forced. If he wasn’t positive his heart was playing tricks on him, he’d say she almost sounded homesick. “Everything’s right as rain here, Swan. You know nothing much changes around Storybrooke. They did get a new bar though! Aesop’s Tables but the ‘t’ is always burnt out so everyone calls it ‘Aesop’s Ables’. It just sounds like bloody horrible alliteration but I suppose it’s free marketing for the guy. “

He hears her chuckle on the other end, but it seems sad— or nostalgic— although he’s not entirely sure there’s a difference.

“Sounds same old same to me, Jones.”

“How are you, Swan? How’s the job?”

“I actually have to go, Killian. He swears he hears her sniffle but chalks it up to shotty reception. Thanks again for sending the clothes. We should— shit I gotta go. Bye, Killian.”

She hangs up before Killian can argue. He whispers his goodbye to no one as he hears the line go dead. Rubbing his hands over his face he tries to pinpoint where it all went wrong.

“Win me a prize, Killian.” She’s smiling at him with the brightest eyes and he swears if he died in this moment, he’d return to it for the rest of his life as this is surely what heaven feels like.  

“As you wish, Swan.” He’s a good shot, and while the rigged games are good, he’s better. It takes no time at all for him to win her one of the big prizes. “What in bloody damnation are you going to do with a huge ass bear, Swan?”

She chuckles at his teasing but proudly carries her bear through the fair, until it gets too heavy and Killian ends up carrying it on his back like an oversized child. Her eyes light up when she sees the short line at the ferris wheel and she grabs his free hand, urgently dragging him towards the ride.  

The operator reluctantly allows Henry (she named the damn thing) to ride with them so when they get into the seat, Killian and Emma are squished as close as humanly possible.  

As they reach the top, she looks at him, “I want to feel this way forever.” He’s stunned by declaration, Emma not being one for emotions of any shape or size. 

“Then that’s what shall be.” She rolls her eyes at his ‘fancy british speak’ and then makes eye contact again.  

“You can not possibly guarantee that.” Their faces are close, a hazard of their stuffed friend riding along.  

“Your heart’s desire, Swan, that’s all I want.” Her eyes soften and then flicker down to his lips. She leans in, softly pressing her lips against his. If Killian didn’t know that they were on a ferris wheel, he would’ve sworn he was flying. She doesn’t say anything after that but cuddles close into him until they arrive at the bottom. They hold hands for the rest of the night and it feels like the entire world has shifted on its axis.  

Two weeks later the world shifts again, leaving Killian feeling like he’s stuck in the aftermath of a category five earthquake.  

It hits Killian like a tidal wave, sudden realization washing over him. All this time he thought letting her go was the best decision, giving her space and time to come home, but he knows now he should’ve ran after her.

He refuses to be another crack in her heart— another love who up and left. While he didn’t technically leave, he let her go, and he’s not sure what’s worse. In hindsight, he should’ve fought for her, but all he has is the present, and he’s going to make things right.

Scrambling for his phone he plugs in the address she gave him.

2 hours. He grabs the bin and his car keys.

He throws on his winter jacket to return her summer clothes.

. . .

Killian is sure the two hours spent in his car are the longest two hours of his life. He pulls up in front of her apartment and lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. It’s not luxurious by any means, but it’s nice and he’s grateful she’s been safe in her time here. He drags the bin out of his backseat and walks to the front door of the building. He scans the buzzer for apartment 815 and finds it with the name Swan scrawled messily beside it. He presses it and the door opens without so much as a word from the other line— so much for safe. If this were normal circumstances, he’d scold her for just letting anyone in her building, but he’ll deal with that later.

He jumps in the elevator to the 8th floor and books it down the hall so quickly that he’s out of breath by the time he reaches her door. The adrenaline pumping through him right now is the only thing that gives him enough energy to knock. When she opens the door, clearly stunned, Killian feels like the air is knocked out of him again.

“Killian?! What are you doing here? Is everything alright?”

“Swan, I’m a damn fool and I’m sorry this took me so bloody long.” He drops the bin to the side and closes the space between them. Her eyes soften, the worry instantly evaporating the moment he rubs his thumb over her cheek.

“You came back?” She hesitates, almost as though she’s expecting to wake up from her daydream at any moment.

He knows the feeling… perfectly.

“Well, I had to get you your bin and shipping would’ve been outrage—“

Emma cuts him off with a kiss. It’s messy, the antithesis of their first, yet behind the desperation he feels an overwhelming sense of peace.

“I missed you, Killian Jones.”

“There’s not a day that went by that I did not think of you. I apologize for taking so long.”

“Yeah, I had to buy a whole new summer wardrobe because of that damn closet of yours.” She’s smiling now, that same smile she held when she begged him to win her a prize.

“Aye, love, a true tragedy.” He smiles at her and hopes his eyes can convey everything she’s not ready to hear out loud. “Are you going to let me in or should I just leave the bin out here?” He winks, knowing an eye roll is inevitable.

. . .

He’s invited in, and he stays… for three more days. And as they leave to turn her key into the landlord she runs back inside apologizing for forgetting something.

When she rounds the corner again she’s clutching a giant teddy bear and beaming with the brightest smile he’s seen in years.

“Do you mind carrying Henry?” She kisses him on the cheek and then gently on his lips, a bribe he’s positive will never get old.

“Your heart’s desire, Swan, that’s all I want.”

[xiolaperry]

The Piano - Chapter 11

Summary: Belle French and her daughter arrive in New Zealand to an arranged marriage with Gaston LeGume.  Gaston shows little interest in her or her piano and books. However, Mr. Gold is fascinated… (Rumbelling of the 1993 film “The Piano”)

Rating: E for smut, dark subject matter and violence.

Also available on AO3

-

Belle dreamed of Mr. Gold. His arms were around her as they lay on their sides, facing each other on the bed, his cock hot and hard between them. He kissed her with such tenderness it made her cry. When she tried to embrace him in return, he dissolved and left her with nothing but air and tears on her face.

Unable to go back to sleep, she stroked her arms the way he had, trying to recreate the smallest bit of the feelings Mr. Gold had given her. It didn't work.

Breakfast the next morning was polite. Tilly chattered about wanting to visit Mary Margaret and Emma again, filling the uncomfortable silence.

“I will be building fences on the new property today, so I'm going to have to bar the door when I leave. Tilly, I know you're a good girl, but your mother must learn.”

Belle wanted to smack him.

“Could you slice up some bread and cheese to take along, please, Tilly?” She jumped up to fill his lunch bucket. Gaston leaned back in his chair, legs stretching out long in front him. Belle fantasized about throwing her coffee in his face to wipe the grin off of it.

Belle knew what Gaston was doing. But calling him out on using a little girl as a pawn was not an option. The situation was too volatile. However, it was better than Gaston being unkind to Tilly. Yesterday's scene could have been far worse. She had a moment of gratitude, then berated herself. She should never have to be grateful for not being assaulted.

With a cheery goodbye, Gaston returned to his fence building and barred the door behind him. She made a concentrated effort to be positive for Tilly's sake. Playing cards was a diversion for a part of the morning. Tilly was excited that she won every hand. Belle didn't just let Tilly win when they played – in her opinion, learning to lose was an important skill. But concentration was difficult; her thoughts kept returning to Mr. Gold. Labhrainn. She couldn't call him that in her mind yet, not while everything was still in upheaval.

How long had he waited for her yesterday? Was he still waiting, or had he given up, assuming she didn't love him? She pictured him at the table, alone with her book and chipped cup, and it broke her heart.

Belle could not touch her piano. It made her memories of Mr. Gold too vivid. She drew up some sheet music for Tilly to practice with, and they worked on chords and some simple songs. The long, dreary afternoon passed slowly. Books were not an escape. How could they be when her head was filled with him?

---

“I have chores near the house today,” said Gaston as she poured his coffee the next morning. “We’ll be having visitors this afternoon. Tilly, you can work in the garden for a little and then play outside if you like, no need for you to spend such a nice day indoors. But I think your mother should stay in and prepare something for our guests.”

He barred the door when they went out.

Cora, Regina, and Reverend Hopper did not know what to make of the fortified house when they arrived.

“Have the natives threatened you?” Cora asked Gaston when he came in from feeding the chickens.

“No, Aunt. We have had no problems.”

Belle served tea in the garish rose cups and sent up a silent prayer that Cora would not notice one cup was missing from the cabinet. A lecture about her unsuitability would send her over the edge and she'd probably smash them all.

“I'm glad to hear that. You see, the latch is on the wrong side of the door. When you close it, they will lock you in, instead of them out. You would be trapped.”

“It is rather dark in here with the windows covered,” said Reverend Hopper with a frown. “Is everything all right, Belle?”

She put on a brave face and nodded. The Reverend didn't need to be drawn into this. His expression still concerned, he asked, “Can you visit Mary Margaret next week? She sends her regards, and would like for the girls to get together.”

Belle looked at Gaston. How would he respond to this?

“Belle might be busy here at home. We'll see how the next few days go. I'll tell David when they’ll be able to call on them.”

As Reverend Hopper continued to feel out the situation, Regina emptied the basket. There was an apple pie she had made as a gift, and some preserves and ribbons. “We've been making the rounds spreading Christmas cheer,” said Regina. “We even took something to Mr. Gold's house, however undeserving he is.”

“Only because the Reverend insisted it was our Christian duty,” replied Cora. “Even if he is overly friendly with the natives. Granny was there, looking almost like a native herself.” She sniffed with disdain. Reverend Hopper stifled a sigh. “I don't know how anyone can stand to be in his company, even Granny. Mr. Gold was insufferably rude today.”

“Now, Cora, we need to --”

Regina interrupted him. “It's no matter. Tomorrow or the day after, he'll be gone.”

Belle's teacup clattered against the saucer as she put it down. She did not trust herself to hold it with her shaking hands.

“So Gold is packing up,” said Gaston. This was interesting news.

“He doesn't have much to pack, but he is leaving. I never understood that man. He has plenty of money -- he could have had a gracious home in the village and been part of the community. But no, he preferred the Maori to his own people. I say good riddance.”

Unable to remain sitting due to the agony inside her, Belle went to her piano. The anguish was too large to contain in her body. Music was the only way she could endure her emotions and keep from shattering. Mr. Gold had given up, thinking he was unloved and unwanted.

They watched her, surprised by her sudden movements. The melody she played cast a feeling of melancholy over the room. It was pain, loss, heartbreak personified through music. It was like nothing any of them had heard before.

Reverend Hopper put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Belle, what's wrong?” She shook him off and kept playing. “Belle?”

Uncomfortable at the sudden tension, Cora said, “We must be off. There are others to visit.”

“Yes, Aunt. Thank you all for stopping by.”

Cora leaned in to stage whisper to Gaston. “Are you sure she's not mentally.... unsound?”

Belle made no response. She was pouring out her desolation for Mr. Gold.

“She's fine. I'll follow you out.”

In the sunlight, Reverend Hopper wrung his hands. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No, thank you. We just have a few things to work out between us.”

“Reverend Hopper, would you and Regina go on ahead? I'll catch up. I'd like to speak to my nephew for a moment.”

When they were far enough away, Cora asked him, “What's going on here, Gaston?”

“Marriage is not what I thought it would be, Aunt.”

“What she needs is another child. A son for you. Then she'll settle in.”

“I don't know if we'll ever love each other.”

“Love? Love is weakness. It means nothing. A baby, Gaston. Strong, healthy sons to keep the family going. Everything will work out then, you'll see.”

“I'm sure you're right. Thank you.”

Gaston approved of Belle's behavior that night. She was docile, serving him his meal, cleaning his boots and listening to his stories with no strange outbursts. As a test, he took her hand and kissed her cheek. She did not flinch. Tilly played the piano and sang. She called him 'Papa' now. He put his arm around Belle while they listened, and she did not pull away. This was what he pictured when Maurice French answered his advertisement for a wife.

---

Belle woke the next morning to the sound of boards being ripped from the windows and sunlight. Gaston, rising early, wanted to reward Belle for her better attitude the night before.

Finished, he came in, passing Tilly on her way out to dance in the sun and feed the chickens. “We must move on,” he told Belle. “Gold is leaving. No one will ever find out what happened. It's over.” He leaned down to look straight into her eyes. “You will not see him.” Tense moments passed.

Belle looked away first and shook her head. No, she would not see him.

Satisfied, Gaston gathered his things. There was work to do. “I'll be out at the edge of the new property,” he called as he walked away.

She watched him leave from the window, then opened the piano lid, reaching where the keys met the strings. A key removed and ready on the table, she heated a needle in the flame of a candle. The work was painstaking. When she finished, she had an engraved message on the side of the key. “Dear Gold, you have my heart.” She signed it Belle French. He had to know when he left he would take a piece of her with him. Not just her name, but her voice, and her heart. The piano missing its key would never be the same, and neither would she. He would understand.

She wrapped it with linen and tied it with a blue ribbon. Tilly was still outside, playing with her doll. Belle knelt in front of her and put the package into her hands. “Take this to Mr. Gold,” she signed. “It belongs to him.”

Tilly shook her head. “No, Mama. We're not supposed to go there.”

“I am not supposed to go there,” Belle corrected with deliberate, precise signs. She would keep her promise to Gaston, but Tilly had promised nothing.

Ignoring her mother's request, Tilly put the key down and continued to play with her doll. Belle pulled Tilly to her feet and gave her stern instructions. She pressed the wrapped gift into her daughter's hand, and sent her on her way.

Tilly reached a literal crossroads. The path forked - the right took her to Mr. Gold's; the left led to Gaston. She hesitated. The last time Mama visited Mr. Gold, the entire house got boarded up. Going there started problems, and it was his fault Mama was acting strange. Gaston was being nice. He seemed to like it when she called him 'Papa'. She'd never had a Papa before. Left. She would go left.

Thus decided, she continued skipping and singing. In her naivety, she believed that her choice would make everything better. Her Mama would smile again, and they'd visit Emma. Gaston would be a real Papa and love her. The sun was out, but gloomy clouds were gathering on the horizon. She followed Gaston's fence posts up and down the hills. At last, she saw him. Kamira was working with him today. Well, not working but watching as Gaston drove a post into the ground. He put his flask away when he noticed her.

“Kia ora Tilly!” he called out.

“Hello, Mr. Kamira. Hello, Papa.”

Gaston stopped hammering. “What do you have there?”

“Mama wanted me to give this to Mr. Gold.” She brandished the slender wrapped package at him, its blue ribbon eye-catching in the sun. “I didn't think I should. Want me to open it?” she asked, pulling at the bow.

“Give it to me.”

Palms sweaty, he undid the parcel. He stuffed the linen and ribbon in his pocket. A piano key? He turned it and saw the message. Fury rose in an instant, flashing through him and bursting into flame. He heard his father's voice.

“You let a woman make a fool out of you? I'm not surprised.”

“They'll laugh -- she preferred an old cripple to you. I knew you were worthless.”

“Teach her a lesson she won't soon forget.”

Each beat of his heart pounded another thought through his head:

“This.

Will.

Not.

Stand.”

The ivory key dropped from his fingers when he grabbed his axe.

End note: The music from the scene where Belle plays the piano.