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spartanguard · 4 years

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even death won’t part us now (3/?)

Summary: Two covens, both alike in dignity, / In fair New York, where we lay our scene, / From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, / Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. From forth the fatal loins of these two foes / A pair of star-cross’d lovers take their life; / Whole misadventured piteous overthrows / Do with their death bury their sires’ strife. (Captain Swan + West Side Story + vampires. But not as sad. Probably.)

rated M | part 1 | part 2 | AO3 | 5.8k words

A/N: So I’m not entirely sure what my posting schedule will be like but it’s looking like every 8 days. This chapter is a ton of CS goodness that I hope you like! Thanks again to @optomisticgirl for being an awesome beta; to @thesschesthair for her amazing art (LOOK AT THIS NEW PIECE OMG); and to @kmomof4 and @cssns for putting this event on and pushing me to continue this story!

sorrynotsorry for the Hamilton references; I couldn’t resist

I know they’re not actually singing but the movie is still awesome

part three—tonight, tonight; it all began tonight

Emma couldn’t help it; she was entranced. After so many years thinking she’d merely dreamed of their existence, to suddenly see those blue eyes—and the handsome face they belonged to—it kind of made the world seem to slow. The music, the moving bodies between them—it all seemed to hit some sort of decrescendo, and she found her feet moving toward him without her telling them to.

His gaze hadn’t left hers since they locked eyes, and it was almost as if the crowd was parting around them, leaving a clear path for her to finally meet the man who’d haunted her peripheral vision the last 15 years.

Then, suddenly, he was there in front of her. She breathed; she could smell him—something warm and spicy and vaguely like rum and leather—but there was no heat radiating from him like a human would have. Despite that, there was a solidness to him that proved he wasn’t a hallucination.

“You’re real,” she breathed.

“Aye,” he said in an accented voice. “You’re still here.”

“I haven’t gone anywhere,” she answered, slightly confused but more enamored than anything.

“I’m glad,” he said, then reached for her hand. She continued to stare, entranced, as he brought it to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on the back of it. If her stomach was still capable, it would have flipped. Part of her wondered if he’d walked straight out of a Jane Austen novel, but the odds of him being that old (or older) were significant.

“I apologize if I kept you waiting,” he continued.

“I’m patient.”

“So am I.”

Without further ado, he stepped into her space; normally, she would have moved the opposite direction, but not tonight. Whatever that feeling was she’d gotten earlier—a warning, a sign, an omen—this was what it was bracing her for; she knew it.

(Apparently, she could be a hopeless romantic when she really wanted to be. Suck on that, Snow.)

He wrapped his free arm around her and she felt hers slip up to his (firm) shoulder, like some long-lost muscle memory was taking over. Then he took a step, and she followed. Then another, and another, until they were dancing in their own little circle in the middle of everyone.

“What is this?” she asked, the haze of her shock finally clearing a bit.

“It’s called a waltz,” he answered matter-of-factly. “And the only rule is: pick a partner who knows what he’s doing.”

Innuendo was dripping off that statement, and Emma decided she wouldn’t mind figuring out what else he knew how to do—at some point, at least; not here, not with all these people around.

“I feel like I’ve been seeing you out of the corner of my eyes for years,” she confessed as they continued to step and sway.

“I wish I could say you have, but I’ve been abroad the past several; there’s no way I would let a woman as lovely as you pass me by without giving her my full and prompt attention.”

She smiled; god, how long had it been since someone genuinely flirted with her? Someone who wasn’t looking for just a one-night fling. (Her sense for these things had only gotten sharper over the years—he was genuinely interested in her, she could tell. And the feeling was mutual.)

“It was you, right?” she asked, moving in a bit closer. “From the night I turned?”

Before he could answer, though, a firm hand was on her shoulder, pulling her away and rudely tugging her back into reality—David.

“Dad, what the hell?” she complained as he moved in front of her, almost like he was shielding her.

“Get back, Emma; he’s not safe,” David commanded, not taking his eyes off of—shit, Emma didn’t even know his name yet. But he too was surrounded by a couple other vampires, and Graham quickly joined the fray.

“He’s with Aurum,” Snow whispered in her ear, suddenly appearing at her side. “And Regina is here with him.”

Oh, shit—Regina was the one who turned her parents. Which meant she could control them, if she was so inclined; just another reminder of how lucky Emma was that her sire was gone.

“We need to go—now,” Snow hissed, grabbed Emma’s arm, and started to pull her from the crowd.

“Dad!” Emma shouted, because it looked like he was confronting one of the Aurum guys. She knew he could hear her, but he was locked in a tense conversation, albeit brief; she couldn’t hear their exchange over the thumping dance music, but it was obvious from their body language that the tone was tense. She and Snow were nearly out the back door before he and Graham caught up to them and Snow finally loosened her grip on Emma’s arm.

Emma shook off her mother and peered through the door before it mechanically shut behind them. She got one last look of those too-blue eyes, still staring at her from across the bar, before the door closed.

Just her luck: the first time a guy actually gets her attention in at least 25 years, he’s completely unavailable to her due to some stupid ancient rivalry.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

“What the bloody hell are you doing?” Killian raged as he was unceremoniously pulled away from Emma and out of a fog of enchantment—by Robin, of all people.

“Saving your skin,” Robin answered sharply. “She’s with Coroza.”

Fucking hell—he’d completely forgotten who he’d left her with. Bloody stupid ageless feud. But sure enough, when he looked back, he saw she was still with the Nolans. At the very least, his instincts there had been good.

She was being dragged away by Snow, but David and another guy—Gary? no, Graham—hung back. “What the hell do you think you’re doing here?” David barked angrily.

“I could ask the same of you,” Robin snarled back, showing his descended fangs and approaching David. “Should have known this club would be trash.”

“Then maybe you should get back to your side of the border and leave us be.”

“Or maybe you should find another feeding ground altogether; I’m sure the fare in New Jersey is cheap enough for your palate.”

“That’s enough. This ends tonight,” David spat. Killian was pretty sure David didn’t have the authority to proclaim that, but he didn’t know the hierarchy in Coroza (and certainly wasn’t up to date on it) well enough to call his bluff.

“Fine,” Robin snarled. “Meet me at Granny’s tonight, 3:00. We’ll set the terms there.”

“Fine.” David turned and left with no further comment; Graham was quick to follow, but leveled a withering glare at Killian first that, if he wasn’t mistaken, was tinged with jealousy.

Whatever. Killian looked past both of them, through the back door of the establishment—where he caught one last glimpse of green eyes and blonde hair before the door closed. He prayed that wasn’t a metaphor.

Robin was quick to usher them all out, and Killian followed, not wanting to make a scene. But he quickly wracked his brain for his old recollection of addresses, and just had to hope the Nolans had the same habit towards moving (or rather, not) that the majority of vampires held.

That was not the last time he saw Emma—he was going to be sure of that.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Emma was mature enough to admit that by the time they got home, she was sulking; that teenager feeling she had earlier was definitely still relevant. Her dad and Graham were talking strategy, it sounded like, and her mom was trying to comfort her, it seemed—though over what, she wasn’t sure.

Finally, they reached the townhouse; the boys disappeared to the downstairs office while Emma and Snow headed to the little-used kitchen. At least there was a bottle of black-market blood vodka in the fridge; Emma needed something to take the edge off, her drinking plans being interrupted.

She poured a shot for both her and Snow and quickly downed it. Snow, though, looked at hers a bit pensively.

“I’m sorry your night out got ruined.”

“It’s fine; it happens,” Emma shrugged off. “I’ve got plenty more to come.”

“I know, but...god, I hate it when they show up like that.”

Emma didn’t let her mom see her roll her eyes; again, she didn’t give two shits about the rivalry—it was the way it seemed to bring out the worst in people that she had issue with. That was what ruined the night; not the mere presence of someone she was supposed to hate.

(Someone whose name she still didn’t know and was most likely the reason she’d been reunited with her parents in the first place—but that wasn’t something she was going to bring up right now.)

“Well, did you at least have fun with Graham?” Snow asked, happy to change the subject. Emma was less receptive.

“I barely even talked to him,” she scoffed.

“I wish you would. He’s a great guy.”

Emma didn’t hide her exasperation this time. “Yeah, he is—as a friend. I just...don’t like him like that.”

“Emma,” her mom sighed, then stepped close enough to wrap her in a hug. “That wall around your heart...it may keep out pain, but it can also keep out love. I just don’t want that for you.”

Emma’s mind immediately jumped to blue eyes and the sense of being drawn in by some unseen force. “I know, Mom, but—you’ve gotta let me do it on my own,” she said, rubbing Snow’s arm.

“Yeah, I know,” she sighed.

Emma gave a loving pat on Snow’s bicep, but then pried herself out of her mom’s embrace. “I’m going back up to the roof; I’ll be down later.”

“Alright; be safe.”

Emma chuckled; she was far more dangerous than any other predator out there. But she promised she would and headed up the stairs.

The sounds and smells of the city enveloped her again as she exited on the roof, hints of stars twinkling past the light pollution. It was a balmy and clear enough night that she’d probably consider staying up here for the rest of it, but for now, she was content to sit on the ledge overlooking the alley behind the building. It wasn’t particularly picturesque, but every now and then, a person would stumble through and Emma would feel a bit less alone in the world.

Despite the family she’d found, being a vampire—and only truly walking the world during the dark—was far more isolating than she’d ever imagined.

Movement in the alley caught her attention; something was sliding through the shadows. It was usually just a stray cat, but this figure was much larger; despite her enhanced vision, it was too far away to make out until it came into the small bit of light that came from the streetlamp a quarter of a block down.

And then she gasped: it was him. Even in the faint light, she could see the sharp blue of his eyes—and they were staring right at her.

“But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?” he said softly, loud enough for her to hear clearly but not for the average human. “It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.”

If she could blush, she’d be blushing.

“Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,” he continued, moving closer to the building and carefully stepping onto the fire escape’s ladder. “Who is already sick and pale with grief.”

“Don’t tell me you’re so old that you actually knew Shakespeare,” she teased; she’d heard rumors that there were a few around here who did, though (including someone in charge of Shakespeare in the Park).

“She speaks: O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art as glorious to this night, being o'er my head.” He carefully continued the recitation as he climbed gracefully and almost silently.

“Wait—watch out for the—!” she whisper-yelled—but it was too late. He wasn’t looking where he was reaching and grabbed for the loose rung three from the top with his left—hook? She wasn’t sure how she hadn’t noticed the prosthesis in the bar, but steel met rusty iron, which immediately gave way, leaving him dangling from his right hand. She hopped off her perch, saying “Shit—let me help!”

He chuckled; a low rumble that went straight to her core. “I’m fine, love; I’ve got this.”

And in a move that had no business being either physically possible or as ridiculously hot as it was, he somehow vaulted himself onto the roof with only his right arm.

She just gaped and blinked, her jaw literally dropping, as he landed in front of her with bent knees and then rose to his full height. He smirked, revealing a dimple in his scruff that was far too adorable for the far-from-innocent expression.

“How are you even real?” she blurted out.

“Well, many years ago, I was born, and then—”

“No, no, no,” she cut off; of course he was a smartass. “I know you’re real—I can feel it, felt it—but like...it’s like you walked out of the pages of some fairy tale,” she stammered.

His smirk fell a bit. “If I did, it certainly wasn’t a happy one—perhaps the Grimms’ version?” he posited, stepping toward her.

“Our lives certainly are as graphic as one,” she agreed.

“I’d say,” he added, then waved his hook for emphasis. Oh god—he’d definitely know better than she would, clearly. She was totally messing this up, wasn’t she?

“Sorry; I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine,” he waved off. “I know you didn’t.” There was no resentment in his voice; he meant it. In a city full of pissed-off assholes, it was nice to find one who wasn’t easily offended.

For a long moment then, silence fell over them (as much as anything could be silent in the city) but it wasn’t awkward; his eyes flitted over her as if he was studying her, so she tried to do the same, but had a hard time getting past the bit of chest hair revealed by the open buttons at the collar of his dress shirt. But then she could tell he was smirking again, which made her realize she was staring.

She averted her gaze to a cracked concrete tile she’d been meaning to fix for...at least 10 years. “Um, sorry about earlier—in the bar, what happened; my dad, he can get—”

“It’s fine, love; my friends are the same,” he interrupted. “Frankly, I'd forgotten the rivalry was still a thing.”

“Oh shit—are you going to be in trouble for being here?”

“Not if I’m not caught,” he shrugged off. “'Tis but thy name that is my enemy.”

She smiled at how smooth he pulled that off. “Except I don’t even know your name,” she tossed back.

“Oh, bloody—” he cursed to himself, running his hand through his dark hair, then straightened back up. “Killian Jones,” he said, adding in a slight bow, “at your service, ma’am.”

God, even his name sounded too fancy to be real. Although, there was probably something equally fantastical about hers. “Emma Swan,” she replied.

“I know.”

Her eyebrows raised. “You do?”

“To answer your question from earlier—if you’re referring to the night that Walsh Baum died after turning his last girlfriend, then yes, that was me who found you.” So she was right—she knew she was, deep in her gut, but to have confirmation was nice. “I’d been sent to follow you to make sure that didn’t happen. But obviously, I wasn’t successful there.”

She tilted her head, assessing the way he was decidedly not meeting her eyes on that last part. “That’s not the whole truth, is it?” Her ability to sense a lie, particularly in humans but also in other vampires, was a well-honed tool.

“You’re quite perceptive, aren’t you?” he rebuffed, still focusing on his hook instead of her.

“When I need to be.” She didn’t feel like she was in any danger; but her curiosity demanded to know.

“I was supposed to kill you,” he said quietly. “But I couldn’t.”

Well. That was not what she expected.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Killian’s memory hadn’t failed him; the Nolans still lived in the same quaint little Hell’s Kitchen home. The view from the alley across the street was little changed in the last 15 years; just different cars parked on the street; different adverts glued to the utility poles.

He made his way to the alley alongside the building, clinging to the shadows to avoid being seen; he was very good at that. But then a golden spotlight drew his attention: Emma, perched on the edge of the roof, looking fully ethereal in the glow of the yellow streetlight.

And, well, his more theatrical side took over from there. (Yes, it was completely showing off by using only one arm to leap onto the roof, but he hadn’t gotten this far without knowing how to impress a lass.)

He was a little surprised at how well Emma was able to read him; but it was a firm reminder that despite his tracking her (and subsequent years of daydreaming), and despite their intense moment earlier, he really didn’t know her.

Oh, but he wished to.

“I was supposed to kill you,” he reluctantly revealed. “But I couldn’t.”

Her green gaze had already turned suspicious, and with that statement, he could almost see the physical walls going up behind them.

“So, what, you’re here to finish the job?” she accused.

“No,” he vehemently assured her. “I had no desire to kill you then, and even less now.”

Her features softened, but only slighting. “Should I be worried about someone else coming after me?”

“As far as Aurum knows, you’re already dead. If they knew you weren’t, let's just say neither of us would be here to have this conversation.”

The tiniest sparkle of amusement ticked at the corner of her mouth. “I mean, technically I am dead,” she joked. “But...why didn’t you?”

That same familiar expression was in her face as he saw it 15 years ago. “You had that look in your eyes—the one you get when you’ve been left alone. And I...I know what that’s like, and I didn’t think you deserved to die like that.”

He hadn’t intended to make things so heavy, but he also knew he couldn’t withhold the truth. Although he was surprised at how easily he told her; it had taken nearly a decade to reveal anything of his past to Robin, and yet something told him he’d be spilling his full backstory to Emma over the course of the night.

On her end, she seemed to be slightly overwhelmed by the statement; her eyes had gone wide and she was taking unnecessarily deep breaths (unnecessary in that she needn’t take any at all). “Thank you,” she said resolutely, and he could hear the weight in her simple words.

Even after two and a half centuries, he still hadn’t learned to accept gratitude, so he just nodded and ducked his head a bit, trying to hide the blush that wasn’t there. “I can’t say it was entirely selfless,” he continued in an attempt to shrug it off. “There’s something to be said about finding a way to disobey the man who’s controlled you for the last 200-plus years.”

“Yeah, but sending me to the other side?”

He had to roll his eyes. “I hardly care about some petty, pointless rivalry that’s stretched through the centuries. While I may be under the thumb of Aurum, I don’t give two whits about sides.”

“Thank God someone else doesn’t,” she blurted out. “Like, I get why my parents do—Regina is the one that turned them, and not gonna lie, that is a bit of a sore spot for me—but that’s a personal issue. No reason to join a gang.”

He chuckled a bit at her simple but rational logic. “Aye; I’m likewise not much a fan of Cora—she killed my love, many years ago—but I only hold that against her; not the rest of her coven.” To this day, he still didn’t know if Cora had singled Milah out because of her connection with him, or her connection with Gold; either way, she had been murdered, and there was naught he could do.

“Eesh, that sucks.”

“Aye, it did.”

“It doesn’t anymore?”

“I was angry for a very long time, but the pain dissipated over the years—and I’ve had many of them. Plus,” he added, stepping towards her, “I found someone else has caught my attention recently.”

“Oh yeah?” she asked, even though she seemed to know the answer, and smiled. “Who?”

“Well, you see, there's been this fierce blonde running through my dreams the last 15 years or so, and now that I’ve properly met her, I must say—she fascinates me.”

“What a coincidence; you fascinate her, too.”

“Aye?”

“Yeah, and she’s been seeing your blue eyes out of the corner of hers for years now.”

She had moved into his space on that last statement, and the air between them was full of a static tension Killian had never felt before, as if it was drawing them together. This wasn’t the same as what had happened in the club—this was electric, begging for release, and—

—And suddenly his lips were on hers, or perhaps the other way around, but it didn’t really bloody matter because she was soft and warm under him, against him, pressed tight against his body and he knew—he didn’t know how, but he knew—he’d never kiss another pair of lips again.

O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Holy shit—Killian could kiss.

Emma wasn’t entirely sure who initiated it; just that she couldn’t resist it (him) anymore without touching him. It was like the opposite ends of a magnet being drawn together: inevitable and forceful.

(Which, given the whole rival teams thing, was probably appropriate.)

Emotionally, her walls weren’t entirely down—they didn’t fall that easily, not anymore, if ever—but she could tell they weren’t going to last, and not just because of his make out skills. She’d known him all of ten minutes and already he understood her better than anyone ever had—more than Neal, more than Walsh, more than her parents even.

That said: his scruff left a delicious burn on her lips and she could taste the blood rum he’d had earlier, sweet and spiced and so like him and she wanted to get drunk on it (especially since her shot at actual inebriation for the evening had gone out the window).

And the one nice thing about making out when you were technically undead: you didn’t have to come up for air. She tilted her head to deepen the kiss, ready to settle in for a while, pressing her entire body against his (and liking what she felt). A rush of arousal washed over her and—

—And her fangs dropped down of their own accord. What the fuck? That had never happened.

She pulled back when they did, instinctively not wanting to hurt him (though logically, she doubted she could). “Sorry,” she apologized breathlessly. “That’s never happened before.”

Killian let his forehead rest against hers. “I thought that was the guy’s line?”

She chuckled and lightly slapped his shoulder, then shifted her weight back a bit, trying to put some space between them—and the evidence of his own arousal, which was doing nothing to tamp hers down.

Honestly, she was kind of embarrassed; she felt like some horny teenager losing her cool in the presence of an elder statesman. She’d had a few one-night stands since she turned, but nothing serious—and never felt anything as intense as what she felt right now, and they’d barely even touched. It was kind of overwhelming; not in a bad way, just not in a way she was ready to address just yet—at least, not seriously.

“You kiss pretty good for someone old enough to be my great-great-grandfather,” she teased, a smile playing at her lips while her hands, which had somehow ended up on his shoulders, pressed against the preternaturally firm muscles below them.

“There should probably be a few more greats in there,” he quipped back, his hand squeezing her hip and the brace of his prosthesis pressing against her other side.

“Oh really? Just when were you born?”

“The Ninth of April in the Year of Our Lord 1750,” he answered rather officially.

Emma whistled. “Damn. Good thing I like older men. How old were you when you were turned?”

“31.”

“Okay, still older.”

“It’s good to know that’s your entire criteria in seeking a partner.”

She snorted, but only to cover up the way she instinctively balked at his choice of words; she couldn’t deny that it was headed that way, though. Even if it had barely been an hour since their first exchange, it felt like forever ago—or maybe it was just because she’d been unconsciously chasing him for her entire afterlife.

Still—it felt like the world was starting to spin, and she needed it to slow down. She grabbed his hand and stepped away, but tugged him along with her. “Come here; I want to show you something.”

He followed without hesitation as she led him to her tent, but hesitated when she tried to drag him down onto the cushions.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’d hate to intrude on what’s clearly something of a sanctuary,” he explained, nodding at her modest fortress.

“You’re not; I’m inviting you in.” She hoped he understood the double meaning there.

An adorably shy smile took over and he followed, falling gracefully to her left onto the mound of pillows. She reached to her other side and fiddled with some cords, and suddenly, light filled her makeshift tent as power flowed to the twinkle lights she’d rigged up along the crude wooden framing.

“Oh, that’s lovely,” Killian gushed—genuinely, not placatingly—as he stared around.

“It’s better if you lay down,” she told him, then let herself fall back against the cushions; he followed suit.

“I wasn’t talking about the tent but I do agree—I can think of any number of enjoyable activities that involve a woman on her back.”

“You’re just full of one-liners, aren’t you?”

“I’ve had quite some time to accrue them.”

“Fair.”

A thick sheet of clear vinyl formed most of the top of the tent; if she spent time up here during the day, she’d have stuck with something opaque, but given that she never used it when the sun was most at risk of frying her, it was perfect for dark, wet nights. “I love to come out here when it’s raining,” she explained, “and watch and hear it coming down above me. I could almost fall asleep.” You know, if that was a thing she could still do.

She turned to look at him, but he was staring up, a wistful smile on his face. “Aye, I can only imagine; I used to love the sound of it falling on the deck when I was in lower quarters.”

“What, were you a pirate?”

“Eventually, yes; but prior to that, served in His Majesty’s Royal Navy.”

“Which ‘his majesty’ was that?”

“King George the Third.”

“Wait, like, Hamilton King George?”

“One and the same.”

“Shit, you are old.”

“Why would I make that up?”

“I dunno; street cred?”

He chuckled. “That’s the farthest thing from my mind.”

Now her curiosity was piqued. “So, did you fight in the Revolution?”

“Aye, though we didn’t exactly call it that on our side.”

“I suppose you wouldn’t have.”

“No, but I did find my sympathies changing sides while stationed here.”

“What, liked it so much you decided to stay?”

“I wouldn’t say ‘decided,’ exactly,” he countered, then turned his head to look at her. Even with the change in angle, it was easy to see that his previous cockiness had given way to trepidation. “Is this where we divulge our tragic backstories?”

She grabbed his hand. “It can be, if you want.”

“Okay.”

It almost seemed like historical fiction, the tale he told her: born in a poor fishing village, losing his mother when he was young and his father leaving them later, joining the Navy with his brother to get out of a terrible situation, being sent to America to fight the ‘rebels’, falling in love with a woman he met in a tavern in Boston, losing his brother and his hand in battle, and then all hell breaking loose.

“Milah was nursing me back to help when, lo and behold, her husband located us. Gold.”

“No,” Emma gasped.

“Aye. He was...less than pleased, as you can imagine, but she managed to talk him down. But we were out on the town some weeks later when Cora cornered us and murdered her. At that point, I had little to live for, and despite my injury, volunteered for the next battle; how my officer accepted me, I’ll never understand.”

“What battle was that?”

“Yorktown.”

“1781,” she automatically finished; she and her mom really listened to the Hamilton soundtrack way too much.

Thankfully, he laughed. “Yeah, that was the year. That was also where I was turned.”

“Oh, shit. Sorry.”

“It’s alright. It’s still my favorite song.”

He went on to explain how he was a bit too close to cannon fire from a Continental Navy ship, delivering a fatal blow to his chest that sent him overboard. If the internal bleeding hadn’t gotten him, he’d have likely drowned—except Gold was waiting nearby. “He’s never told me why he was there—if it was the general chaos or me explicitly—but I suppose it doesn’t matter now.”

Killian was dragged through the brackish waters of Chesapeake Bay by Gold to the rough shore of a then-unpopulated island and turned; he wasn’t lucid enough to protest (to even notice who his would-be savior was) until it was too late. “My first meal was another soldier who’d washed ashore,” he admitted.

If she could still cry, she’d be wiping tears from her face. Holy shit—what a traumatic way to be turned—to even live. “God, I’m so sorry,” she told him, and squeezed his hand.

He shrugged. “It is what it is; ancient history now. I’m having a hard time complaining if that was what it took to bring me to you.”

Emma had to avert her gaze at that; he was not only telling the truth, he was wearing his damn heart on his sleeve, and it was intense. “Please, you hardly know if I’m worth that yet.”

“Emma,” he said softly, then gently turned her face back to him with his hook. “I’ve met thousands of people over the past two and a half centuries, and not one has made the impression you did in a fraction of the time. I feel...I feel like even if you were following me the last several years, I was chasing you my whole life.”

She needlessly swallowed; it was funny how physical reactions lingered even when they no longer served a purpose. But that was what she did when she was overwhelmed in life, and she was extra-whelmed now.

Especially because, “I feel that way, too.” It was only a whisper but somehow the loudest thing she’d ever said.

Slowly, reverently, he pressed his lips against hers; she was still reeling emotionally, but his kiss was a welcome balm to her aching mind (or something vaguely poetic like that; she was too focused on how good it felt to come up with a good analogy). He deepened the kiss a bit and pulled her closer, but it wasn’t heated, just—she hated to say this so soon—loving.

It didn’t last long until he broke it, but he stayed close, his arms around her. “And you? I’d love to know more about your beginnings.”

“Not much to tell,” she shrugged. “Not as exciting as yours, at least.” She explained what happened with her parents and growing up in the foster system; her first love, her stint in jail, and the baby she gave up; and a brief summary of the years in between her release from jail and that night in Walsh’s apartment.

“Wait—so the Nolans are actually your parents? They birthed you?”

“Yup. I guess I should be thanking you for that, too.”

“No, love—that’s my pleasure. I mean, I had no idea, but I’m glad you were reunited. I had no idea their history with Regina.”

“It is what it is, but we’re making the best of it. Although I definitely feel like a teenager sometimes.”

“I can only imagine,” he chuckled. “And look at you now—hiding a boy from them and everything.”

She laughed, but it turned into a groan. “Ugh. I’m not looking forward to that conversation.”

“Don’t think of it, then. We have all the time in the world to figure that out.”

Just then, Killian’s phone started vibrated, making them both jump; a perfect reminder that things were not as simple as either of them would like.

“That’ll be Robin,” he muttered, then dug the device from his pocket and began replying to the message he’d received. “Shoot; I have to be at Granny’s in 10 minutes.”

“Can’t you do something to convince them to call this off?” she wondered. “We can’t be the only ones to think this is a petty feud.”

“I can certainly try; but we know how hot the tempers of our kind can run.” It was true; it sometimes felt like emotion had replaced bodily functions. Instead of her heart beating, she filled that void with pure emotion.

“I know, I know; but—try?”

“I will.”

They spent a few more minutes in the tent making out (and maybe a bit of dry humping, but Emma was cautious to not let it go too far lest her fangs make another unexpected appearance), and then stole any number of kisses as they made their way back across the roof to the fire escape.

“I hope it’s always this hard to say goodbye to you,” he murmured between a few last pecks.

“Then let’s not—how about ‘see you later’?” she proposed.

“When?”

“Granny’s, at dusk; I’m working tomorrow and I usually stop there to eat beforehand.”

“It’s a date.”

She grinned and gave him one final kiss, before he made a careful climb back down.

When he was firmly on the ground, he looked up and said quietly, “Not a moment will go by I don’t think of you.”

“Good,” was her simple reply, and he disappeared into the night.

(Something else was on the tip of her tongue, but she wasn’t ready to say it yet. However, it wouldn’t be much longer until she admitted it to both herself and him: she loved him.)

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

thanks for reading, friends! let me know if you want/don’t want a tag! @kat2609 @xpumpkindumplingx @shipsxahoy @amortentia-on-the-rocks @mryddinwilt @cocohook38 @annytecture @shireness-says @ohmightydevviepuu @profdanglaisstuff @wingedlioness @word-bug @distant-rose @wellhellotragic @welllpthisishappening @let-it-raines @pirateherokillian @bleebug @its-imperator-furiosa @fergus80 @killianmesmalls @sherlockianwhovian @ineffablecolors @laschatzi @ive-always-been-a-pirate @nfbagelperson @stubblesandwich @lenfaz @phiralovesloki @athenascarlet @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @idristardis @scientificapricot @searchingwardrobes @donteattheappleshook @lfh1226-linda

#cs ff #cssns20 #cs vampire au #even death won't part us now #cssns 2020 #my ff

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inevitably-johnlocked · 4 years

Text

TOP 25 BOOKMARKS of 2019

See also: Top 20 Bookmarks of 2018

Hey guys!

Since this is the last Fic Rec Sunday of the year, I’m going to give y’all the list of my favourite fics that I’ve read this year! I think this is a great way to end off the year, by letting y’all know what I thoroughly enjoyed reading while on my seemingly-never-ending quest to rec you guys the stuff y’all should read! <3

And of course, I am reducing it to a small list or I will NEVER finish reccing fics because everything I’ve read this year have been fantastic, but these are the ones I’ve found myself going back to a couple times already :)

Hope y’all enjoy!

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JOHNLOCK BOOKMARKS

The Burning of the Leaves by blueink3 (M, 15,915 w., 3 Ch. || Post S4, Angst, Reichenbach, Parentlock, Past Jolto, Idiot John, Sherlock’s a Mess, Puppies, Fluff, Possessive / Jealous Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock POV, Matchmaker Sholto, Melancholic Feelings, Emotional Sherlock, Domesticity, Love Confessions in the Rain, Kissing in the Rain, Pet Names, Panic Attack) – After the events of series 4, Major Sholto invites John and Sherlock to lunch one day. It nearly proves to be too much for their tenuous relationship as the past haunts the present, putting the future that Sherlock so desperately wants at risk.

The Palmyra Atoll by elwinglyre (E, 16,609 w., 3 Ch. || TSo3 Divergence / Episode Fix-It, Stockholm Syndrome, Kidnapped John Watson, John Whump, Evil Mary, Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Toplock, Limited 3rd John POV) – As John's preparing for the wedding, Sherlock is preparing to have his heart broken, and Mary is prepared to do the unthinkable. Intervention required. Enter Sherlock. Set before Sign of Three with a far different outcome. John is drugged, kidnapped, and left on an island, but not just any old island.

Wonderful, Etcetera. by VictoryCandescence (T, 16,955 w., 3 Ch. || Wonderful Life AU || Alternate Timelines, Brotherhood, Homophobia, Suicidal Ideations, Mentions of Drug Use, Friendship, Different TRF, Sherlock’s Past, Victor Trevor is Past Boyfriend, Depression, Hallucination?, Love Confessions, Christmas, First Kiss) – Sherlock thinks everyone would be better off if he had never existed, including and especially himself. When he finds himself in a world in which his wish has been granted, he begins to think perhaps even he could be wrong – but it takes an unlikely chaperone to make him not only observe, but understand.

The Kepler Problem by kinklock (E, 24,270 w., 1 Ch. || Sci-Fi AU, Alien Sherlock, Space Repairman John, Alien Biology, Horny John) – Working in uncharted space exploration was not as exciting as John had hoped, especially when it turned out to be mostly bot maintenance on uninhabited planets. However, the mystery of the repeated, unexplained malfunctions on planet BAK 2212 might turn out to be exactly the kind of adventure he'd been craving.

A Home for Us by sussexbound (M, 30,581 w., 12 Ch. || Scars, Bedsharing, Grief, Doctor John, Hurt/Comfort, Post-TRF, Implied/Referenced Torture, Sherlock POV, Pining Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation, Heavy Emotions, Clingy Sherlock, Hallucinations, Disassociation, Emotional Turmoil) – He has been on the road for two years, and he is exhausted. He’s almost accepted that he will never see London (John) again—almost. But then there are nights like tonight, where he is weak, and all he can think of is the warmth of the flat they once shared, the crackle of the fire in the hearth, the teasing smile playing at the corner of John’s lips, the boxes of half-eaten Chinese takeaway balanced precariously in their laps. He aches at the memory of it, at the realisation that it is something he may never experience again.

Chaperones by MissDavis (T, 34,114 w., 7 Ch. || 11 Years Post-S4, Fake Relationship, Parentlock, Disney World, Bed / Room Sharing, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, First Kiss, Obsessive Sherlock, Insecure John) – Right. Of course. Everyone assumed they were a couple and no one would question it. John put his elbows up on the table so he could rest his head in his hands. "You want to pretend to be a couple so we can chaperone a trip to Disney World with Rosie's class and you won't have to share a room with a stranger?" "Exactly." Sherlock beamed at him. "Don't worry about the cost. The Birmingham case last month paid more than enough to cover expenses for all three of us."

Only To Be With You by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (M, 40,768 w., 4 Ch. || Black Mirror / Future AU || Character Death, Future Technology, Sickness/Cancer/Illness, Heavy Angst with Happy Ending, First Person POV John, Pining John, Heart-Wrenching Angst) – I tell myself that next time I’ll come near this same place again. Wait around for the mysterious stranger in his coat to dash past me, hot on the heels of a new criminal in black. I think this all the way back to my Exit, planning where I’ll wait and what I’ll say when I see him. Scheming on how to get his name. It’s only once I reach the Exit Point door that I realize two hours and forty-five minutes have passed, and I realize that this won’t be the last time I Visit. It won’t be the last time at all.

A Hundred Crimson Sols by elldotsee (E, 55,536 w., 16 Ch. || Astronauts AU || Mars Exploration / Space Travel, Slow Burn, Shy Sherlock, Scientist Sherlock / Biomed Engineer John, Alternating POV, Mutual Pining, UST, Angst with Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Injuries, Suicidal Ideation, Zero-G Sex) – Will Holmes is a chemical researcher recognized widely for his contributions to the new Mars exploration program. Thanks to his ground-breaking developments, the IMMC (International Mars Mission Corporation) is one step closer to Martian colonization. Will and his team of scientists are headed out on the first of three manned missions before the first group of settlers arrive. Three days before launch, one of the crew has to be replaced. Will panics because...new people. The replacement is of course one John Watson, biomedical engineer and space hottie who was pretty sure he had retired from actual space exploration and was now content to work in the nice, quiet research lab. Can the crew survive this TOTALLY ROUTINE trip? Will they be able to endure each other for the looooooong trip in close quarters? Gonna be a wild ride... prepare for blast off. Part 1 of SpaceBois go to Space

White Knight by DiscordantWords (M, 69,840 w., 13 Ch. || S4 Compliant/Post S4, Marriage For a Case, Jealous John, Pining John, Janine / Sherlock Fake Relationship, Serial Killers, Case Fic, Undercover as a Couple, Weddings, John is a Mess, Misunderstandings, Wedding Planning, Jealousy, Drunkenness, Love Confessions, Angst with Happy Ending) – Green. The word green was used to convey a great many things. Illness. Envy. Inexperience. Standing there amidst Janine's chattering bridesmaids, watching Sherlock furrow his brow and study fabric swatches, watching him smile and simper and flirt, John thought it a remarkably apt colour choice. Because he felt quite sick to his stomach, he feared the source of said sickness might very well be jealousy, and he had absolutely no idea at all what to do about it. Or: Sherlock needs to fake a relationship for a case. He doesn't ask John.

Being John Watson-ish by elwinglyre (E, 69,902 w., 17 Ch. || Bodysnatcher AU || Author John, Cranky Sherlock, Angst, Sexual Tension, First Kiss / Time, Falling in Love, BAMF John, Past Soldier John, Feelings, Inside Someone’s Brain, Shy Sherlock, Sherlock Loves John, POV Sherlock, Switchlock, Slow Burn, Internal Dialogue, Mental Turmoil) – When consulting detective Sherlock Holmes steps on one toe too many at a crime scene, he's consigned to a desk job in an archaic office on the seventh-and-a-half floor of the New Scotland Yard. It’s in this bleak office that Sherlock discovers a portal into the mind of renowned author John Watson. Grander than his mind palace, this new wonderland affords Sherlock new vistas of experimentation. To learn more about the mystery behind the portal, Sherlock seeks out and befriends Watson. But then it all goes wrong when others find the secret portal door—including the man whose brain he visits.

Just To Hold You Close by sussexbound (E, 70,841 w., 18 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, Sherlock POV, ASD Sherlock, PTSD John, Demisexual Sherlock, Bisexual John, Cuddling/Snuggling, Platonic Cuddling, Enthusiastic Consent, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, First Kiss/Time, Sexual Tension, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Cuddle Negotiations, For a Case Until It Isn’t, Hair Petting, Sexual Negotiation, Anxiety, Trust Issues, Slow Burn, Panic Attacks, Frottage, Hand/Blow Jobs, Referenced Self Harm / Abuse / Suicidal Ideation, First Kiss/Time, Anal, Autistic Sherlock) – When a woman is murdered and the last person to see her alive is recently invalided army vet turned reluctant (and prickly) professional cuddler, John Watson, Sherlock Holmes is pulled into a world of intimacy and intrigue he never could have imagined. John is a conundrum and mystery: frank yet reserved, tender yet angry, open yet afraid. Sherlock is instantly drawn into his orbit, and begins to feel and desire things he never has before.

The Vapor Variant by 88thParallel (CanadaHolm) (M, 72,684 w., 18 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-THoB, John Whump, Protective Sherlock, Guilty Sherlock, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD John, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Suspense, Virus, Sickfic, Big Brother Mycroft) – They stood face to face in the middle of a clearing. The dim light of the moon barely allowed Sherlock to see the glassy terror in John’s eyes and the sweat that glistened off his forehead. His nose was bleeding again, blood dripping in a slow stream from his right nostril. They were both gasping for air, John’s eyes locked on Sherlock’s. There was no recognition there, just wild animal fear. Time stood still for an eternal few seconds, and Sherlock took a shaky breath. “John—”Spell broken, John spun and bolted back into the woods. Still heaving for air, Sherlock took off after him

A Further Sea by i_ship_an_armada & ShinySherlock (E, 125,492 w., 23 Ch. || Historical Pirates AU || Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Doctor John / Pirate Captain Sherlock, Sailing, UST / RST, Masturbation, Action / Adventure, Mild Angst & Peril, Romance, Shaving, Molly/Janine, Bottomlock, Hand / Blow Jobs, Past Drug Use, Slow Burn, Mild Violence, Happy Ending) – Here be a tale of adventure for both body and soul, but beware if ye be not of stout heart, for this be piratelock, ya savvy? Luckless ship's surgeon John Watson takes a chance, and finds himself eye to eye with The Ghost, the scourge of the seven seas and a definite thorn in the side of the blaggard, James Moriarty. But when John finds there's more to this most cunning pirate than be meetin' the eye, he has to choose... is it a pirate's life for him?

The Adventure of the Silver Scars by tangledblue (NR [M], 142,458 w., 41 Ch. || S3 Fix-It, Post-HLV/ Post-TAB / Canon Compliant, Case Fic, No Baby, Angst, Humour, UST, Slow Burn, Angry John, Reconciliation, Not Nice Mary / Leaving Mary, Dependent Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Caretaker John, Fist Fights, It’s An Experiment, Virgin Sherlock, Dancing, Drugging, John Whump, Pet Names, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Scars) – It’s been thirteen months since Mary shot Sherlock and John finds he’s still pissed off about it. Sherlock had thought everything was settled: John and Mary, domestic bliss. But when John turns up at Baker Street with suitcases, the world’s only consulting detective might not be prepared for the consequences. A new case. Some old scores to settle. Certain danger. Concertos, waltzes, and whisky.

Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.

GOOD OMENS

you can dance in a hurricane, but only if you're standing in the eye by be_brave13 (G, 1,456 w., 1 Ch. || Non-Linear Narrative, Light Angst, 6000 Years of Pining / Slow Burn, POV Crowley, 5 and Ones, Idiots in Love, Song Fic) – 5 times Crowley knew he loved Aziraphale and the 1 time he knew Aziraphale loved him back (romantically).

Where Heaven Begins by sussexbound (M, 2,515 w., 1 Ch. || Pining Crowley, Soft Idiots, Emotional Love Making, Hurt/Comfort, Crowley Has Healing Powers, Kissing, Bed Sharing, Crowley POV) – Aziraphale bleeds. Is bleeding. He’s wearing human skin, after all.

In the (Second) Beginning by cherryfeather (M, 2,661 w., 1 Ch. || Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Confessions, Soft Crowley, POV Aziraphale, Post-Canon, First Kiss, Wings) – Aziraphale realizes that Crowley's been saying something rather loudly for a week.

The Picnic; or, the Drawbacks of Loving an Angel by sorrowfulcheese (G, 3,776 w., 1 Ch. || Post-Apocalypse/Canon, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Misunderstandings, Moving On, Picnicking, Idiots in Love, Crowley POV, Cranky Crowley, Mutual Pining, Light Angst with Happy Ending) – Aziraphale lures Crowley out for a picnic. It doesn't go remarkably well.

The slowest moving object in the universe by chamyl (G, 4,996 w., 1 Ch. || God POV, Mutual Pining, Idiots in Love, Beach Day, Games, Light Humour, Tenderness, Embarassed Crowley, Soft Idiots, First Kiss, Love Confessions) – Crowley and Aziraphale have had feelings for each other for a very long time. It takes a date at the lake and a round of 36 Questions That Lead To Love to give them the final push.

a garden all their own by leaveanote (T, 5,436 w., 1 Ch. || Post Canon, POV Crowley, Emotional Turmoil, Aziraphale Takes Care of Crowley, Crying, Nightmares, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Heart Wrenching Pining, Pining Crowley, Wings, Tired Crowley, Romance, Healing, Massage, Light Angst with Happy Ending) – The aftermath. An exhaustion deeper than body. A secret too heavy to carry when when grief burned so close. Crowley has to tell him. "What am I to you?" A saving thing, an agony, a binary star, tenderness, an unhealed wound, a home, a home, a garden. Come to me, we'll heal together.

i want to hold your hand (goddammit) by PersephonesReign (E, 7,695 w., 5 Ch. || Crowley POV, Pining Crowley, Emotional Turmoil, Slow Burn, Soft Crowley, Angst and Fluff, Love Confessions, Nervous / Anxious Crowley, First Kiss/Time, URT, Wing Kink, Anal, Top Aziraphale / Bottom Crowley, Hand Holding) – Crowley just wants to hold Aziraphale's hand. What's so difficult about that?

A Brief History of Touch by chamyl (E, 11,849 w., 1 Ch. || Moments in Time, First Kiss/Time, Heavy Mutual Pining, Romance, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Masturbation, Almost Kiss, Touch-Starved Crowley, Angst With Happy Ending, Love Confessions, Blow Jobs, Emotional Love Making, Friends to Lovers, Body Worship, Promise of Forever With a Ring) – Six thousand years of pining, stolen glances, almost-touches, plummeting towards the inevitable end.

The Nice and Accurate Love Story of A. J. Crowley and A. Z. Fell by SealandRocks (E, 16,353 w., 1 Ch. || Pining Crowley, Implied Mutual Pining, Emotional Love Making, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, POV Crowley, Jealous Crowley, Crowley’s Plants, Kissing as Healing, Moments in Time, The Arrangement, Love Confessions, Bottom Crowley, Gentle Aziraphale, Slow Burn, Falling in Love, Crowley is Bad at Feelings, First Kiss/Time, Anal Sex / Fingering, Wings / Wing Kink, Porn With Plot, Praise Kink, Kissing in the Rain, Symbolism, Historical References) – Crowley and Aziraphale have been dancing around each other since the beginning. From Eden to London, it eventually becomes very hard to avoid the only other immortal around. And after so many centuries, having a physically body becomes a bit uncomfortable. Crowley is left to wonder what it is about Aziraphale that helps ease the ache in his soul. It would only take him 6000 years to figure out that it was rooted in something deeper all along. Part 1 of Love Stories for the Oblivious

Any Way You Want It by LieutenantLiv (M, 27,585 w., 5 Ch. || Holidays, Slow Burn, Fluff, First Time, Eventual Smut, Swimming, Dreams of Dancing, Kissing in the Rain, Self-Esteem Issues, Misunderstandings, Crying Love Confessions, Soft Crowley, Clingy Crowley, Virgin Aziraphale, Romance) – Saving the world is exhausting work. With Heaven and Hell off their backs, it seems as good a time as any for Crowley and Aziraphale to take a proper break. Neither one of them predicts the direction their holiday takes.Who'd have thought that sharing a cottage in Scotland would be quite so romantic?

#johnlock fic recs #go fic recs #ineffable husbands fic recs #my fic recs #fave fics #fic rec sunday

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lonestarbabe · 4 years

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Holding Out For A Hero

Chapter 2: You Can Call Me Al

T.K. meets his new bodyguard, and Carlos immediately knows he has his work cut out for him.

T.K.

Substances rushing through his body, T.K. was in a great mood and looking for some sexual release. He searched the crowded gay bar for some who struck his fancy. His eyes landed on the biggest guy in the room, who couldn’t hide if he wanted to. His brown skin glistened with a sheen of sweat and the lights hit his brown eyes in a way that almost made them look green.

It took him a second of contemplation, but T.K. finally recognized the guy as a vague recollection of past encounters popped into his mind. Good times. The guy had stamina, T.K. knew that, but he couldn’t remember his name. All T.K. knew was that this dude had biceps the size of T.K.’s head and that Muscles’ mouth would be wasted on romantic words. I’m just looking for sex, not love, T.K. reminded himself. Muscles was the perfect sex tool for T.K. just as T.K. was to muscles. Mutual objectification—check. I want it rougher than sandpaper and as heartless as the tin man.

Sidling up to Muscles T.K. leaned his arms against the bars so that his muscles were popping. “I was thinking about getting out of here.” T.K. and Muscles skipped the small talk whenever they hooked up. Maybe that’s why I don’t know his name. It’s better off that way, anyway. Names can ruin everything. Adolph? Instant turn off.

“Looking for a ride, sugar?” Muscles asked with a cocky grin, which is well deserved.

T.K. winked, “Only if you have tinted windows. I’m careful about who I’m seen with.”

“Husband?” T.K. wasn’t sure if Muscles recognized him or not, but Muscles treated him like a stranger, which caused some identifiable feeling to curdle in T.K.’s stomach. Being known was scary, but not mattering to someone was horrifying. T.K. nearly walked away, hating the way this guy made him felt, but he couldn’t move his feet. I couldn’t even remember his name? Why would he remember mine? Being a celebrity, anonymity was nice and rare, but to not be remembered by a past lover was personal.

T.K. forced a smile. Flirting is my specialty. Well, not really, I don’t have to flirt much. I just have to be easy. “Definitely not. I can’t imagine being married. Let’s just say that some people in my life can’t appreciate what I do.”

“Ah, homophobes.”

“Nah, not that either. Just people who don’t know how to have fun.”

“Even worse.” Yeah, right, because hating people is so much better than sitting at home and reading for the evening. T.K. wasn’t going to go into a tirade on some passing comment that had been meant as a joke. Maybe it’s my fault for lacking a sense of humor.

“What the hell are you doing?” a firm voice rang in T.K.’s ears. For a second, he thought he was having an auditory hallucination before he turned around to see the hottest guy he’d seen in at least four months.

“Who are you?”

Muscles licked his lips, “I’m willing to share, but I’m in charge.” Two men, I can get behind that.

Hot Guy didn’t even look at muscles. “Come on, tiger, you’re not sleeping with him.” The guy pulled T.K.’s arms from the bar, and T.K. lost his balance, nearly falling before he was steadied by the newcomer.

“What? Are you his boyfriend or something?” Muscles asked, puffing his chest. His veins popped out, and he was clearly trying to look tough, but it was hard to take him seriously in the flowered bowling shirt he’d worn for Hawaii night.

“Who are you to tell me who to sleep with? It sure won’t be you.” T.K. turned to Muscles, shrugging Hot Guy’s hand off his shoulder. “Ignore him. I don’t even know who he is. As I told you before, I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Husband. You said you didn’t have a husband.”

“I don’t have a finance either before you ask.”

Hot Guy pulled T.K. toward him with a gentle tug. Muscles pulled him back. This is not tug the T.K. Hot Guy won out. He spoke clearly. “I’m your new bodyguard. Carlos Reyes. I have the paperwork if you need to see it.” Carlos, now that’s a nice name.

T.K. waved him off, giving him a once over. “Oh, I bet you are. You look the part. Big, strong, no fun. You’re way hotter than most, but you still have responsibility in your beautiful eyes.”

“A bodyguard?” Muscles looked shocked. “Why would you need a bodyguard?”

T.K. shrugged. “Like I said, people in my life are killjoys.”

Carlos pulled out his I.D. to show it to T.K. “You shouldn’t take my word for it. I could be any old loser.”

T.K. looked skeptical “And you can’t fake an I.D.?”

“I also have the some paperwork in my pocket if you want to see that too. Signed off by Judd.”

T.K. laughed again, “At the moment, words just look like squiggles. He squinted at the I.D. again, seeing Carlos’ picture. ”Very pretty squiggles.”

Muscles was growing impatient. “Can we go now? Or would you rather talk to the guy with a stick up his ass.”

“Of course, I prefer you, muscle man,” T.K. said looping his arm around Muscles’ broad shoulders, ushering Muscles off the bar stool. Muscles was broader but Carlos looked like he knew how to win a fight if the steel in his eyes was any indication. “Don’t worry about him. I’m his boss. He’ll leave if I tell him to.”

“We’re going,” Carlos countered with stern eyes.

“Judd said you didn’t start until tomorrow, so the way I see it, you’re not my bodyguard yet.” I’m not going to let any hot guy boss me around, especially one doing so on behalf of Judd Ryder.

Carlos tapped his watch. “That was yesterday. It’s after midnight now. Judd told me—”

“Yeah, well, you don’t get to tell him who to sleep with,” Muscles rose from where he was leaning against the bar, standing to his full six-foot-five height.

“You’ll stay right there.” Carlos pushed the dude back down into a seat. “He’s too high to know an apple from a pear.”

“Who the fuck cares? We’re just having fun.” Muscles wasn’t going to back down, and T.K. really didn’t want to cause a fight. He just wanted to go home with a man who would show him a good time.

“He can’t consent when he’s like this, asshole. He probably won’t even remember tonight.“ The fire in Carlos’ eyes was sexy, but T.K. rolled his eyes at the sentiment. The forgotten nights were the best ones.

“I want sex, and I could tell an apple from a pear anytime,” T.K. complained indignantly, looking between Muscles and Carlos. “The pear is the one that takes like a watered-down apple.”

“I need to take you home,” Carlos said with only a hint of exasperation, which meant he was a lot more annoyed than he let on.

T.K. looked confused. “What? Are you mad?” A look of realization filled T.K.’s face. “Oh, he must be a pear fan.” Then, T.K. was giggling uncontrollably, and both Carlos and Muscles looked at him like he was crazy. I am. As crazy as a… something that’s really crazy… a dude named Tyler Kennedy.

Crazy or not, Muscles still seemed up for fun. “Calm down, bro. I’m not going to do anything that he doesn’t want. I know what T.K. likes.” He does remember me, after all. T.K. felt a pang of affection that he quickly chased away.

“I don’t care what he wants. My job is keeping him safe, so go find someone else to screw. Preferably, someone who can stand up without swaying.” Oh, maybe that’s why I feel like I’m on a boat.

Before the topic could be discussed any longer, Carlos grabbed T.K. and dragged him through the crowd. When they were outside, T.K. rubbed the arm where Carlos had grabbed him. He shivered. “You could have been gentler with me. Judd won’t like you hurting his best merchandise.”

“You’re fine, and don’t call yourself merchandise. You’re a human being. If you weren’t, Judd wouldn’t care so much.”

Carlos pulled out his phone and called T.K.’s driver. When T.K. tried to walk away, going who knows where, Carlos reeled him back in with his free hand. Why are his arms so long. He doesn’t have the biceps of Muscles, but he’s as close as you can get without steroids. After hanging up the phone, Carlos shoved T.K. down to a bench while they waited for the car to arrive. Carlos remained standing, looming over T.K. “What did you take?”

T.K. shrugged. “Just some shots.” Shots alone don’t feel this good.

Carlos didn’t buy the bullshit. “And?” He’d been around celebrities to know that T.K. had more than a few shots.

“I think some E, but I didn’t really look at what it was.” I’d have taken it no matter what it was.

“Fuck. You can’t take random pills and expect it to be okay. That could kill you, T.K.”

“I’m not dead yet.” Not sure whether that’s for the best.

“Did that loser give them to you?” Carlos’ fists were clenched at the mere mention of Muscles.

“Nah, Muscles is cool. We’ve hooked up before. He’s as much of a gentleman as I want him to be. Drugs and sex are part of being a rock star.”

“You sing pop songs,” Carlos countered.

T.K. grinned. “Rock star is a state of mind.” Carlos didn’t say anything, but he let T.K. press his body against Carlos’ side.

They sat in silence until a familiar car drive up to the curb. T.K. was glad to see his driver, but he’d gotten pretty comfortable on the bench. It would be nice to go to sleep, but he could do that anywhere if he could get his mind to shut off. He was always so tired, but he still felt wired from the substances rushing through his body. His brain was wired, at least. His body felt like a pile of noodles, slightly ahead of his racing thoughts that would soon come to a startling halt.

“The car is here.” Carlos’ voice sounded floaty. T.K.’s body didn’t budge even though his brain told him he should get up. Carlos pulled T.K. up when he wouldn’t budge, moving him to the car like a ragdoll.

“Oh, man handle me some more. I like it,” T.K. said hollowly. T.K. felt his mind drifting, going to that faraway place where he wasn’t part of the normal world anymore. No matter how many people were around, he would feel detached from everything, even himself. It’s really nice. Calm. Easy. No complications.

“That what you want from that guy in there?” Carlos asked in a strange voice that T.K. couldn’t make sense of.

“There’s nothing wrong with liking it rough. I can give it as good as I take it.”

“No, there’s nothing wrong with it. But I don’t think you wanted rough sex from that guy. You wanted him to hurt you.” I wanted him to break me and not bother to put me back together.

“Is that so bad?”

“It is when you’re using it to punish yourself.”

“What would I punish myself for?” For being a purposeless waste of space maybe? For being an awful son? For being a poser? For hating myself?

Carlos shook his head. “Never mind. I don’t know you. Only what Judd told me about you. This conversation is wasted on you, anyway.”

“I’m wasted,” T.K. laughed tiredly, letting his head fall to Carlos’ shoulder. For someone who was so muscular, Carlos’ shoulder was a nice cushion, firm but with just right the amount of softness. If T.K. could find a pillow with that exact balance, maybe he could sleep without first getting high.

“Yeah, T.K., I know, but soon you’ll be back to normal.”

T.K. sighed before letting his eyes drift closed. “Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of.” He didn’t hear if Carlos responded. He’d already taken refuge in the blackness of sleep. It’s better than gray.

#my fics #911 lone star #tarlos #911 lone star au #911 lone star fic #my wrting #Elise Writes #holding out for a hero #I suggest reading on a03 #the formatting is bad here #There should be italics #Season 1

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shirtlesssammy · 7 years

Text

Hello, Cruel World: 7x02 Recap

Then:

Castiel accidentally swallowed some Leviathan

Now:

Things pick up right where 7x01 left off. Cas is gone, and his vessel is oozing more goo than normal.

He wanders off, leaving Bobby and Dean stunned. Sam, meanwhile, is 100% fruitbat, getting tortured by Lucifer. Dean and Bobby save him from his hallucinations, and all three head out in search of Leviathan!Cas.

Cas, now even more gooey than ever, heads for the water. The others reach the water’s edge just as he descends into the lake, like some sadistic baptism, turning into a vortex of black goo.

o_O uh, no thank you o_O

The good news? The leviathan exploded in in a reservoir that’s connected to the public water supply! Yay!

Dean then notices Cas’s trench coat in the water, and fishes it out.

He gently folds it, holding it close to his body, caressing it with all the pain of loss and words left unsaid (Ha, Boris can’t write. I leave that heavy lifting to the very talented Natasha.) (Natasha: just key smashes in pain.) Long story short: Dean holds that coat like the last memento of a dead loved one, because it is. Bobby and Sam both watch Dean with eagle eyes, and it’s sad. I couldn’t really see through all the water on my face though. Also, when he squeezes the coat briefly before the camera cuts away? Guh.

Sidenote: I can’t imagine being in the fandom this season!! Like, Cas was supposed to be dead, like dead-dead, like really, really, ‘Jared didn’t spoil this one’ dead. Dark times. (Natasha: I wasn’t in fandom but was watching live since season 5. I never believed he was truly dead so I believe I wasn’t terribly bothered. My heart is a lump of granite.)

And the leviathan make their grand entrance into society via a montage set to the Doobie Brothers’ “Black Water”....a little too on the nose show, but I like it.

Back at Bobby’s, Dean turns to what he does best: looking after Sammy. He makes him hydrate and protein-ate, and he checks his stitched up hand.

I’m a shallow son of a bitch, but concerned Dean lit like this is A+ aesthetic.

Sam confesses that he’s not doing well --he can’t tell what’s reality anymore. As Dean tries to wrap his brain around what Sam is going through, we get a better glimpse of Lucifer’s fun torture time for Sam. After all, “You can’t torture someone who has nothing left for you to take away.”

Meanwhile, girl!Leviathan finds an episode of Dr. Sexy and decides she wants to be a doctor when she grows up.

Bobby checks in with Dean on how he’s holding up. (Caring Dad feels everywhere!) Dean deflects.

Bobby calls out Dean with, “You just lost one of the best friends you ever had, your brother’s in the bell jar, and Purgatory’s most wanted are surfing the sewer lines, but yeah, yeah, I get it. You’re – you're fine.” (Their little exchange of yoga and idjit, and their mutual little smiles is just beautiful. #bringbackbobby)

At Stockville High School, the swim team gets a surprise visit from a couple bloodthirsty purgatory monsters.

At Sioux Falls General Hospital, our very own Jody Mills is experiencing her own special kind of torture. While recovering from an appendicitis, she listens to her roommate drone on and on about dubious hospital practices. Dr. Sexy checks in with our favorite sheriff.

Back at Bobby’s, Sam caught the swim team case. Bobby and Sam convince Dean to check it out.

girl!Leviathan and Edgar (listen, I didn’t explain his entrance, but 6 years on, we know who I’m talking about) meet at a playground(!) and talk about the swim team attack. Apparently it was a bit unsightly, but the girl!Leviathan has an idea. Cut to the hospital. Dr. Sexy finds her and she makes quick work of turning into him. Kids grow up so fast these days.

At the high school, Agent Dean notices black goo and instantly knows what he’s dealing with.

Back at the hospital, Jody wakes to see Dr. Sexy secret off with her roommate. I think she’s starting to suspect her doctor is a monster.

She sets to checkout what fresh hell awaits her in her small hell-mouth town.

Dean checks in with Sam (and Lucifer) about the swim team. Goo? Check. Dean asks Sam how he’s doing. Aagh. Spoiler: He’s not doing ok.

Hopped up on gooooood pain meds, Jody continues to track her doctor, but when she sees him play a particular nasty game of Operation by eating her roommate’s liver, she runs, and faints in the hallway.

Jody wakes up in her hospital bed to the ministrations of her nurse. She sputters, starting to ask about Doctor Gaines, when he swans in, patting the corner of his mouth delicately. She quickly spins a lie about itching stitches and searching for a doctor to explain her presence in the hall. Doctor Sexy Leviathan leers at her. The moment they leave she rips out her IV and mutters “Kiss my ass, Doctor Monsterface.” Jody. Never change.

Meanwhile, Sam’s still trying to out-logic his hallucinations. If this is a dream, Lucifer should prove it by showing him the cage. Lucifer tells him that the Matrix only ends when Sam ends it...like ENDS it, ends it. Sam shouts at Lucifer to shut up, which really bolsters his narrative of doing fine when Bobby walks in. “You’ve beat the devil before, kid,” Bobby tells Sam. Lucifer, meanwhile, stabs Bobby in the chest. Not distracting at all.

Jody calls Bobby and tells him that her surgeon is a monster who ate another patient’s liver. “You and I killed zombies that one time,” she reminds him. He can help her. Bobby rolls out to help her leaving delicate flower Sam behind to man the phones.

At the hospital two swim team members and Edgar meet up with Doctor Gaines. Leviathan!Gaines gives them a tour of the facility. They can eat someone every day here since people die in hospitals all the time. The swim team members jump ship and become hospital staff, preparing to feast. Edgar moves on. He’s got other fish to fry.

Sam continues to clean guns when Dean pulls up. Dean grabs the open beer from Sam’s hand (DEAN) and fills Sam in on the status of the hunt. Dean demands Sam’s help while Bobby goes off to save Jody Mills.

Bobby wheels Jody out of the hospital and shuttles her away into a taxi. (After which, I am sad to report, we don’t see her for the whole rest of the episode.) Bobby then heads into the hospital to investigate the leviathreat level. He finds patients rushed immediately from botched minor surgeries to the autopsy table - a.k.a. lunch counter.

Meanwhile, Dean and Sam drive to the hunt, Dean asking after Sam’s welfare. Dean suggests professional help even though, “You are never gonna be okay, Sam.” </heart breaks> Not the kind of BM scenes we like to watch, dudes.

While Sam’s having his heart ripped out in the Impala, the real Dean arrives back at Bobby’s, calling for Sam. Oh thank god. Dean Bean may be going through a long dark teatime of the soul but he’s not so dark that he’s hurting Sammy. Sam is, of course, gone.

Sam and “Dean” arrive at a corporate building where fake Dean scoffs at Sam’s ability to deal. “You think this is an office building, right?” he asks, leading Sam into a nearly empty warehouse instead.

Fake Dean chuckles, then turns into Lucifer. Lucifer tries to goad Sam into killing himself to end the hallucination (always, btw, the most horrifying part of the djinn narrative).

Back at the hospital, Bobby falls into a big pile of nope when he’s interrupted by Doctor Gaines. The leviathan immediately recognizes Bobby - he saw him through the angel’s eyes. (MY HEART) Bobby tries to shoot up the doctor but only explodes his head into recombining goo. It’s enough to let him escape.

The real Dean pulls up outside of the warehouse he tracked Sam to and opens the door. Lucifer turns into a second Dean and Sam immediately trains his gun on the real Dean.

Dean talks Sam down. He reminds Sam that he’s been to Hell. Torture feels different than the pain of the real world. He pulls up Sam’s hand and presses the wound hard. Lucifer begins to flicker. Sam pushes the wound hard enough to make it bleed. “You’ve gotta believe me,” Dean tells him. “You gotta make it stone number one and build on it, do you understand?” Sam nods, still reeling from the experience.

The phone rings. It’s Bobby. He fills them in on Doctor Gaines and the leviathan threat and the boys head back to Bobby’s lot. They’re gonna be okay… And then they get to Bobby’s house. It’s been torched. Nothing but burned books (CRETINS) and no sign of Bobby. They split up to search the junk yard. Dean dials Bobby’s “direct hotline you should not have this number” phone and leaves the following totally okay not at all unraveling voicemail:

“You can not be in that crater back there. I can’t-- If you’re gone, I swear I’m going to strap my beautiful mind brother into the car and I’m gonna drive us off the pier. You asked me how I was doing? Well NOT GOOD. You said you’d be here. Where are you?”

Dean Bean.

Sam and Dean call for Bobby in the junkyard. Sam finds Edgar and Dean shoots Edgar’s head full of lead (but it doesn’t last long for those shifty little guys). Dean drops a car on Edgar just after Sam gets knocked out by a tire iron. Dean’s got a broken leg, an unconscious brother, a dead best friend, and - you know - suicidal thoughts. So season 7 is starting out super great.

Dean calls an ambulance which takes the brothers to - you guessed it - Sioux Falls General. Extra bonus, Lucifer shows up for the ride.

Back at Bobby’s lot, Edgar recombines...

Mississippi Quotes, Won't You Keep on Shinin' on Me?

Why would the devil holodeck you a whole new life when he could just kick your ass all over the cage?

I keep my marbles in a locked friggin’ box.

What am I chopped brains on toast?

We’ve got a whole lot of NC17 Schizz-nickel right over there.

Having a little bag lady moment?

Bobby Singer. My hero.

This discussion does not require a weapon’s discharge.

It’s like a salad, but with pie!

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

#spn recap #spn rewatch #spn 7x02 #hello cruel world #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #cas #bobby singer #jody mills #supernatural season 7 #he was my ben edlund thing

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in-paradox-space · 7 years

Text

very long rambly text post, you know the drill

you’ll get nothing out of reading it, you may as well scroll.

It’s fucking painful.

I barely even know her

but I can’t stop thinking about her

I’ve met her once, I shouldn’t feel this way about her.

I can’t concentrate on anything.

I just really really want to be around her.

I miss her.

and its really fucking painful to think she probably just wanted to get away from me

fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck

I need to work on improving my skills before college starts. I need to be able to pick myself up, eat the right foods, shower and sleep at the right times

I can’t. I can only think about her

and its weird. I have had crushes before, painful ones, for girls and guys.

and I’ve spent nights awake because of it

but this is making me really sad

to feel like I’ll never be with her and she’ll probably never approve of me

she probably thinks I’m really weird

and that I just want a hookup

because our mutual friends made it out like that before they invited her

and

she’s a regular girl

I met her one night

and I don’t understand.

It would make sense for me to enjoy being around her and wanting to chill with her again

but it does not make sense that I feel like this

that she comes into my mind every single minute

and she makes it hard to focus on anything

I want to look at all the units on my course, and visualize how I can get the best grades in each one

I want to research some shit to buy

I need to choose a good cheap bag to order from china or somewhere cheap

I can not concentrate on any of it.

My mind is only interested in thinking of her

I’ve been waiting for a camera for weeks, it arrived today

I unboxed it.

the tag and the plastic was still there

I need to format an SD Card and change the date/time settings

the box had the big bubble wrap

why am I not excited?

I don’t give a shit

I don’t.

I only seem to care about her right now

and it feels like a drug craving

like im low

I need her to pick my serotonin up

and I think, relationships, crushes, love, affection, sex, all that shit

it kind of is like a drug

not in a poetic way

but its basically the same release of chemicals in the brain

and you think about it every day

you look forward to it

and you feel highs and lows

pick me ups and comedowns

the rushes, the emotions

you change and shape your life to suit it, you make compromises

and its all for a release of the chemicals your brain creates

i know im not the first one to point this out

but im growing aware of it

and I’ve always been aware its just chemicals

an illusion, a distraction from what is important

and I know in reality it doesnt mean shit. I should move on and get on with whats important

but heres the thing

its making me low, because somewhere along the lines my serotonin or dopamine or one of those kind of things has been thrown off balance

and thats basically what happens when you want more cocaine, but it would be more extreme with cocaine of course

I want to see her again.

I dont want to ask my friends to invite her out again, its embarrassing that im interested

and i feel sort of uncomfortable knowing my friend fucked her that one time

i dont even care what we do

i just want to be around her

and i am well aware of how creepy this is

considering i dont know her

and I spent one night with her

and if anyone spouted this shit to me, I’d think they were just being really dramatic

and they just wished they lived inside a movie

theres not really a pattern to when I think of her

and i find it so strange, because I really really dont know her

but I feel so strongly about her, like I would with a crush from high school

it just does not make sense, logically, to me.

but I will be thinking of anything and I’m suddenly overcome with this unique feeling

a reminder through my whole body

that I really really fucking like being around her

and I just want to be around her again

a feeling exactly like seriously craving a certain drug which you haven’t done for a day or so, but its less physical pain and more feeling emotion through a sense of weakness in your body

i wont tonight because i might not be thinking straight

but im considering just talking to my friend about it

and trying to see her again

and i want her to like me, but authenticity is important

but i wouldnt want them to set me up

and honestly i dont think she wants any of this

even if she did date me it’d probably be for 3 days and she’d move on

and she is the kind of girl I’d be friends with

but I really don’t consider people like her as anything more

she liked blink 182 and generic pop rock

i didnt even care about that

you can like whatever you like, but a part of my interest is usually dictated by that

i just liked her more

simply because I was learning more about her

and my god

I would fucking hate anybody who was talking like me right now

I will get over her.

but for now I’m enjoying hearing her voice as I sleep

I think it happens to most people, it almost always happens to me after doing ecstasy

the next few nights have mild hallucinations

kind of abstract and psychedelic

rarely scary but I have had very very fearful nights of paranoia a few days after in the past

they’re mainly voices

its like certain phrases keep being replayed in your ears over and over

not thought out but heard

like theyre really there

and you know theyre not there

but you feel as if these people are really around you

and youre in the same place

and you dont question it at all

you believe they are there

and its not imposing, it doesnt raise any questions. you’re physically in your bedroom but you look around, you hear them, youre really in the place you were the other night

and eventually when youre really drifting off

it becomes lucid visual

and you see them but you also dont

and its just certain things being replayed

and it has the potential to turn into a bad trip but its mostly pleasant and soothing

and I can still hear her voice

I still hear my friends and his girlfriends

but I hear hers too

I love it

I don’t want it to go away

I cant think of what she says

well theres one phrase

and again it makes absolutely no fucking sense

shes just a completely regular fucking girl, with her own interests and experiences

some we share. some we dont

and i met her fucking once, spent one night high with her. we didnt even kiss. hugged once

she didnt express any interest

didnt show any signs of it

and my heart feels fucking weak

and my body is released with, is it endorphins?

it feels like when something release endorphins

an opiate effect.

im going to see her again

i wish my brain could take that in

so it will stop distracting me with thoughts of her at this crucial part of the year

the version of me from a year ago would feel disgusted by these posts

and I’m sorry, old me

I’ll always be me

probably

ill feel that same way about love again

i dont know what this is

i think im physically dependent on codeine again

and that might have influenced me being sick before

i took some when i got off the bus but it didnt change much

im going to go cold turkey anyway

i was planning on taking some at a gig but i begged kek, bargained to not be sick until im off the bus

and i made a sort of deal that i will sacrifice taking codeine at the gig

then bargained some more and said id stop

idk if it was them who helped me

but a deal is a deal

and it will still be a fucking good show

would probably love it more if I was high though

im gonna have to forget that

and I feel sick again

im going to wash my hair and sleep

I started college today

I got up at 6am, and I would’ve made it on time but I was almost sick on the bus ride.

I didn’t want that to be my first impression so I went home.

I think it’s because of the weekend. I don’t take alcohol very well, even a little. Or cigarettes. I just get migraines from anything slightly unhealthy.

I think its more of a delayed hangover/comedown though.

If the pills are 200mg each, I did roughly 700-900mg of MDMA on over two different days.

I started one day, rested the next and continued the day after that.

to some thats a lot.

To others it’s a milestone they’re way past.

It’s the most I think I’ve done in that timeframe though though.

I’m still very tired after sleeping through the afternoon and very weak.

I want to make it tomorrow but I don’t think I will.

It’s a shame. I want to ace the first project and make a good first impression.

I told them I get ill a lot, they should understand but I think they’ll be suspicious that I just happen to be seriously ill on the first day

especially after talking about how much better I am compared to the start of the year in the interview

Now im going to think of a personal tag for her,

one memorable that isnt her name

#personal #relationships #feelings #i did some heavy drugs last night and im kind of fucked #her

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