#Like Emma come on you are sleeping on your abilities here

[4chtungb4by]

Tomothy Selleck for my drawing classssss sketchbook woohoo

#my autism superpowers made this #I don't understand #but i kind of love how I make like. really good portraits maybe once every two years #Like Emma come on you are sleeping on your abilities here #unfortunately I have just enough adhd to hate doing the same thing for a milisecond too long #so my autism superpowers don’t get used v often #I do need to do more portraiture though like my own style always improves whenever I do #maybe one day ill do the 100 head challenge or smth #anyway im rambling hahahaha

[v3nusxsky]

Hiya! First of all, I hope you're doing well. Second, I absolutely adore your writing! 🥰 I was wondering if you'd be interested in writing a secret family Lady Lesso x Female!Reader fic. Basically R is Lesso's wife and maybe they have a kid/kids as well, but no one knows until one day R comes to the school in search of Lesso (for whatever reason, it's up to you). And then all the students & other teachers are like "wtf you're married??". Pretty much just fluff with a hint of humour? I thank you in advance, should this catch your interest. ☺️

- 🐈‍⬛

Hidden or unnoticed

*Authors note~ I absolutely love the idea of this trope and request and I'm honoured to have a chance to write it for the first time*

Trigger warning~ none?? Stressed out mother r sick baby

Prompt~ see ask^^^^

It was rare that you needed to get a hold of your wife during school hours. You understand that her work is important to her and truly that you'd have your hands full with your twin son and daughter. You always made sure to have some time with her after she returned to you though. Your children would be down for the night and it gave you time to spend devoted to the redhead. Time you very much cherished. That's not to say that Emerson Allen Kai and Marilyn Isadora Nova Lesso didn't get their mama because they did but you were the stay at home parent and that worked well for your little family unit.

However, today you were out of your depth. Mari seemed to have come down with some illness and nothing was soothing her. When she cried she started Emerson off too and you were losing your mind. You remember the deal you made Nora that when the twins were born, if you ever became overwhelmed you were to find her. Your ability to teleport yourself and others made it easy enough to adhere too. So that's why you bundled up Mari in a beautiful violet swaddle and balanced Emer on your hip before envisioning your wife's office.

Leonora was startled by a high pitch cry coming from her daughter as you and the children suddenly appeared in her office. The unsuspecting Clarissa and Emma startled by the appearance and how rough your appearance was. Why on earth would a stranger pop into her office carrying two infants? Especially when she hardly looked put together. She had to be brave to risk Leonora's wrath. What the two women were not expecting was for the redhead Dean to immediately hurry and take the little boy off your hip.

"Nora" you whimpered feeling like you wanted to tear your hair out, "I don't know what to do she won't stop crying, I can't bring her fever down. Help me" you pleaded the desperation soaking every word. Emerson was placed on the floor where he happily babbled trying to hold himself up into a sitting position. She then took Mari off you and gently rocked her whispering words of reassurance to the infant and you. You stood there helplessly just watching as she soothed your daughter. Her magic glue creating a cooling sensation that she stroked all over her cheeks and forehead.

"Y/n my love come here" she commanded you gently causing your eyes to flicker to Emer who was happily blowing bubbles at Clarissa and Emma giving them his signature cheeky smile that you were so sure he got from your Nora. You collapsed into her side carful of your daughter and began to sob. You felt like you'd failed Marilyn but Leonora seemed to have the gift of soothing her so she must be better than you right? Guilt knowing you carried the twins yet you seemed to not do anything right now.

Marilyn now sleeping Clarissa could see the stranger wasn't much of a stranger so offered to hold the infant while she comforted you. "Thank you, I'd like to hold my wife " she murmured handing over Mari so gently that it was almost as if she'd break.  "Wife?" Emma not so whispered to Clarissa, the shock of knowing Leonora married and no one knew clearly written all over her face.

For some unknown reason your temper seemed to flare and your wife had to hold you tight to her front. "Dove no. She doesn't mean it nastily calm down my love " she whispered pressing kisses into your hair. You could feel the anger and tension fading away until your son cried. It appeared he was rather in tune with your emotions so you immediately came to scoop the crying baby up and rock him gently. "Shh baby boy momma is okay I promise it's okay shhh" perhaps it was the calming whispers of your voice or maybe your heart beating beneath him but he was soon soothed.

Leonora took Mari from Clarissa and came to stand near you, looking like a perfect family in a picture while you were so wrapped up in the comfort of your wife and children you didn't notice the other women slipping from the room to give you all some privacy and not disturb the babies. They'd find Leonora later and try to find out why she didn't tell them. But for now you could just soak up needing your wife to help you get through this difficult day.

Word count~ 895

#anon answered #v3nusxsky answers #fanfic #anon requested #lady lesso #sfgae #leonora lesso #lady lesso x reader #lesso x reader #lady lesso x you #leonora lesso x reader #lady leonora lesso #lady leonora lesso x reader #dean of evil #dean of evil x reader #dean of evil mother

[searchingwardrobes]

I'm back!!! After months and months of creative exhaustion and writer's block, this story came to me one night when I couldn't sleep. It's just a little one shot of pillow talk in Camelot that's a little fluffy, a tiny bit angsty, and a whole lot of tenderness. I hope you all enjoy it!

Rated T

               Killian wished for the first time for those garish artificial lights of Storybrooke. As Emma said, he was becoming a 21st century man, and he had come to enjoy the ability to see his beloved in all her glory, even after the sun went down. Here in Camelot, however, he had to rely on his sense of touch alone to map the marks on Emma he had come to know so well.

            “You and I, we understand each other,” Emma had said once, and the longer they were together, the more they saw it to be true. Though many a woman had warmed his bed, he still felt self-conscious the first time Emma saw the scars that riddled his body, yet she had smiled in that knowing way she had, and had cheekily said, “let me show you mine.”

            His thumb now grazed the puckered one on her shoulder, a form of punishment by a foster father using the tip of his cigar. He nudged her hair aside with his nose, then lightly brushed his lips across the faint white line behind her right ear, caused by a broken beer bottle.

            “I thought I ducked in time,” Emma had chuckled when she told him the story, “until I felt the trickle of blood dripping down my neck.”

            He knew what it was to make light of a person’s past, as if childhood slavery was just one of those things that happens sometimes. There was nothing normal about it, however, just as there was nothing normal about Emma living in an alleyway at the age of ten ducking from beer brawls.

            Emma shifted in his arms with a contented sigh. He wished she could sleep, but since the darkness wouldn’t allow herself that reprieve, at least she could find solace in his embrace. “You silence the voices in my head,” she had told him, pressing her nose to his collarbone. If that was the case, he would not leave her side, though the sleeping arrangements hadn’t made her father very happy at first.

            Killian’s fingers danced along the jagged scars along her upper back, the newest ones, from when a skip she was chasing pushed her into a plate glass window. That story elicited a shrug and bragging rights that she only missed a few days of work. Bravado – he understood that defense mechanism as well.

            They really did understand one another.

            Emma reached around for his arm and pulled his hand down to lace his fingers with hers. She pressed their joined hands to her chest, and he noticed the slightest change in her bearing. An almost imperceptible stiffening, and did her pulse just kick up a notch? She shifted again, this time as if she were uncomfortable.

            “Are you alright, love?”

            Emma released his hand, and using her magic, she lit the candles in the room. Then she rolled over to face him, her hands fluttering, as if she didn’t know whether to touch him or not. She finally balled them up in the sheet that covered her, pulling it up to her chin.

            “Do you know the song ‘Brandy’?”

            Killian chuckled. “You know my only knowledge of this realm’s music is you and Henry. Right now your lad is educating me on something called punk? Apparently, it was a favorite of his father’s.”

            Emma rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah, Neal loved that stuff. I prefer the classics.”

            “Like those beetle people?”

            “The Beatles, Killian, and yes. Also Motown, Elvis, Creedence Clearwater Revival. I don’t know why, I just always liked the old stuff.”

            “And this song? ‘Brandy’? Is by one of these singing groups?”

            “Uh, no, but it's kind of the same genre, I guess. I don’t know even know who sings it, actually. I thought maybe you’d heard it at Granny’s or something. It’s about this girl and a sailor, so . . . “

            “Ah.” He nodded, encouraging her to go on. He was glad she’d lit the candles, though he still couldn’t see her well. Well enough, however, to see the furrow of her brow and the way her lips turned down. This was obviously about more than a song. “Most sailors I know prefer rum, though. Brandy is a little high brow for our modest tastes.”

            Emma rolled her eyes, which was precisely what he’d been going for. “Brandy is a woman. She lives by the sea and serves drinks to sailors. In a tavern, I guess.”

            “Aptly named.”

            Emma adjusted her pillow beneath her head and rolled over. She continued the story gazing up at the ceiling instead of looking at him.

            “The song tells the story about her and the man she falls in love with. He’s a sailor, and he loves her, but always leaves her.”

            Killian is beginning to see where this is going. He shifts closer to her, propping his head up on his blunted arm so he can look down at her as she speaks. With his hand, he strokes her arm gently.

            “The chorus,” Emma continues, “is what the man always says to her: Brandy, you’re a fine girl. What a good wife you would be, but my life, my love, my lady is the sea.”

            There are many things Killian could say. The first thought that comes to his mind is that the man in the song is either an idiot or a complete cad who most likely has a girl in every port. He’s known the type. People probably assume he’s the type, but he was always careful that his one-night stands had the same expectations he did. He actively avoided women who would be a “good wife.” Not every sailor had good form, however. He could explain all of that to Emma; tell her that the song is unfortunately a common tale, but it’s never been his.

            He knows, however, that none of those things are what Emma needs right now. So he waits, without moving, his hand still caressing her arm. Emma releases a puff of angry breath before speaking again.

            “I’ve always hated that song.”

            “Emma, love,” Killian says gently, shifting onto his back and reaching for her, “come here.”

            She comes to him a bit shyly, and he smiles at her gently as he cups her face with his hand. In her gaze, he can see hesitation. Fear. He doesn’t know if it’s the darkness whispering doubts, or if it’s her same old insecurities, but this is one battle he knows how to help her fight.

            “My life,” he says, kissing her cheek, “my love,” he kisses her nose, “my lady,” he kisses her forehead, then pulls back so he can gaze into her eyes, “is you, Emma.”

            Her eyes well up with tears, and a hesitant smile teases the corners of her mouth. “The Jolly Roger was your home for so long. You had nothing holding you back. Nothing tying you down.”

            Killian shakes his head. “Emma, you said once that you and I understand one another. You, like me, were an orphan. What is the one thing all orphans want more than anything else?”

            “A home,” Emma breathes without hesitation.

            Killian nods, then kisses her fiercely, pulling her to himself, his hand tangling in her hair, pouring into his kiss all his hopes and dreams for their future. When they part, breathless, Emma presses her forehead to his, her smile finally full and joyous.

            “So I didn’t freak you out when I mentioned that white picket fence?”

            Killian tucks her against him, wrapping his arms fully around her. As he kisses the top of her head, he thinks of the real estate ads he and Henry have been looking at, one house in particular that looks fit for a princess, with a view of the sea.

            “Not at all, love. I want that too.”

            Emma snuggles further into his embrace, her hand splayed on his chest, right over his heart.

            “Good,” she says, with that edge of smugness he’s always found so endearing.

            He tries to stay awake, for her sake, but the warm, flickering light of the candles, combined with the softness of her in his arms, lulls him more than the ocean waves. Just as sleep pulls him under, he murmurs against her hair.

            “You’re my home now, Emma. My life, my love, my lady.”

Tagging: @snowbellewells @jrob64 @teamhook @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @spartanguard @xhookswenchx-reads-blog @thislassishooked @thisonesatellite @xarandomdreamx @zaharadessert @huntressandlioness1 @jamif @undercaffinatednightmare @onceratheart18 @sparlecorn93 @sals86 @pirateherokillian @jonesfandomfanatic @linda8084

I don't even know who is around anymore, so let me know if you want to be added or removed from my tag list!!

#captain swan #killian jones #emma swan #once upon a time #captain swan fanfic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfiction #fluff #sweetness #intimacy #pillow talk #canon compliant

[gardenfern1905]

He may not be out yet but your local garden fern is starving so here you go since I am hungry and cannot sleep at 3:54, enjoy

"Unexpected Meetings"

Survivor reader

Recently everyone was given a unexpected note by the nightingale, stating that there would be a new hunter coming into the manor, all the survivors would be chatting about it all day and talking about what they would look like, what their gender would be and what their abilities could be, since the note didn't really label any of that.

"Hey y/n!" Emma yelled out, she was excited to see you after she had finished her match. "Any news of the new hunter yet?" She asked you, "No, I have not. What about you?". Emma looks at you with a beaming smile as if you offered her a newly discovered flower. "Mhm! I heard that the new hunter was gonna be a boy!" She beams with excitement, it was obvious that she seemed happy to share some of her found information. "Is that all?" You asked. "Nope! I over listened in one of the hunters conversations since they get more information about new coming hunters and apparently he is coming some time tonight!" She says with a wide grin. "I need to get going though , my next match will start shortly. Bye y/n!" Emma says as she leaves the room.

-Time skip to dinner-

All the survivors were gathered around a large dining room table as Vera and Annie were cooking food since it was their turn in their chores. "Do you know anything about the hunter?" A male voice says from behind your right side, it was Jose. You never really talked to him so why would he ask you about it, obviously he wants some information for future matches you thought but you didn't know if Emma wanted you to keep it secret. "No, why?" You respond hesitantly. "Well I heard some hunters talking about them never going to show up. Don't you think it's a little odd for the hunters to jump to negative conclusions?" He said, he seemed to be tired from his match but he was so determined to get you to answer.

"Food is ready! We are having mashed potatoes and gravy with vegetables and soup." Annie said as she was placing down everyone's plate. Everyone seemed off today, was it because of getting a new hunter and not having any further information. Or were you just to nervous to think straight and your the one being weird? You thought as you picked at the vegetables. You got up from the table and walked away excusing yourself and saying your thank you's for the meal. "The meal was nice, but I don't have a appetite right now." You say in a forced out mumble as you left to your room. (Damn y/n you really left the mashed potatoes, atleast let me eat your food!😭)

Everyone had seemed to finish their food later then usual, but everyone had seemed to head off to their room for the night, you couldn't sleep from the countless thoughts and worries in your head, so you left to get a drink from the kitchen. The moon was full and it seemed rather cold tonight, not to mention someone really had to leave a damn window open, you went to close it but you couldn't really help but feel as if you were being watched. You closed it and went on your way until you heard a faint knocking at a door.

It was soft but you couldn't tell what door it was knocking on, you followed the noise but was led to the front door as the knocking continued. You grabbed the door handle hesitantly but you managed to unlock the door and open it, only to be met with a tall masked figure. He had stilts and a hood with big ears. He was covered in snow and he had some white hair peeking out from the dark blue hood. It stared at you for a brief moment before her asked in a silent. "Is this the Oletus Manor?"(I think that's the name, please correct me if I'm wrong.) He said in a hushed tone. You look up him before you reply while moving to the side for him, "Come in?" You say. He enters the doorway before he looks down at you, he asks why he was invited here and why he was given the role of a "Hunter" to play as. "You will be told in the morning, but please follow me to the hunter's area, you gestured him to follow you.(Holy! It's 4:34 am and I have school in the morning! Oh well lol)

Hunter reader

All the hunters were given a note about a new hunter coming to the Manor, the notes for the hunters and the survivors were different depending on the role of the new comer. If it was a new survivor, the survivors get more information then the hunters. If it was a new hunter than the hunters get more information than the survivors. The note stated the hunter and their appearance so they don't get mistakened for a stranger and locked out of the Manor. You had a match coming up but that did t stop you from going to your very known friend, Michiko. "Michiko! Are you excited!? We are getting another comrade!"You beamed with joy as you were standing there infront of your dearest friend. "Yes I am!.. What do you think their abilities will be?" She asked with fan covering her face. "I don't know, but I hope me and him can be very good friends!"You say towards the lady. "Well then, you should get going to your match. Wouldn't it be starting soon?" Michiko said as she leaves towards her room. You quickly head towards the matching table before a patrolled come to escort you to your starting area on the match campus.

You were matched against Norton, Ganji, Edger and Memory. It was a simple win you thought but playing further into the match you had become to excited to meet the new hunter that your skills were loosing their talent and even the survivors were confused at this point. "Why do you keep missing me!?" Edger said as he was kiting you while the others were decoding. You were so bad at this point you never got to get one hit in during the whole game, that was until the last cipher popped and you were lucky enough to have detention. Edger must have not know and accidently stopped running to put his painting down, only to get downed. The match was difficult. You only seemed to eliminate Edger as injuring Ganji since detention doesn't last forever.

"Y/n!" Robbie yelled out as he approached you. "Mary wanted me to tell you that your on door duty for when the new hunter comes!" The little boy exclaims as he stands there waiting for a response. "OK Robbie I will remember that!"You respond as you pat him on his head, he left to collect more candy from Smiley.

-Time skip to after dinner-

Everyone had ate their meals and left off to bed, leaving you on watch for the new coming hunter. It was cold on this very night as you were sitting there drinking hot coco as the clock silently ticks. You were about to drift off to sleep until you heard a loud knocking at the front door. You jumped, almost spilling the hot chocolate onto your lap. Placing the warm drink down you quickly unlock the door and open it to be met with the icy orbs of an masked figure staring down at you. It was wearing a dark blue hood with ears and tall silver stilts, he looked at you as you stepped aside for him to come in, he looked at you as he was asked a confusing question but entered anyway. "I suppose you got a note telling you to come here?" You say while looking at him, he hesitantly nods as you smile. "Don't worry we all did. Now please follow me and I will show you to the room your staying in, we will explain why your hear int the morning!" You say without letting him talk as you lead him towards his room.

This was my very first time writing a fanfic and I think I did pretty good, if there were any spelling mistakes please tell me but other than that I hoped you enjoyed but it's 5:00 and I need to add hashtags and GET SOME DAME SLEEP!!!

(Also if you guys have any writing advise just know that I am all ears.. 👂)

#identity v night watch #Identity v #Identity V #identity v #ITHAQUA I LOVE YOU PLEASE GIVE ME A CHANCE IM LITERALLY YOUR NUMBER ONE FANNN #Idv night watch #IDV Night Watch #Idv Night watch #Ithaqua #Identity v Ithaqua #Night watch #Night Watch #night watch

[kayssweetdreams]

Nightmaren Babies Ch 10

Meanwhile, Back in Wonderworld...

After Balan and Lance had sent the fake Nightmaren back to the Dream Gate, They now had only 2 problems to deal with, starting with fixing the Watch. "Erm...is there a Wonderworld watch shop?" Mei asked, as she now was holding Baby NiGHTS in her arms. "Erm...There is something of the sort here. But you'll need to look after the two of them I fear." Balan said. "That's alright Balan. We'll take care of NiGHTS and Reala, while you guys take care of the watch." Aria said.

The two maestros looked worried. It was one thing to deal with the Nightmaren when they were their regular age was one thing, dealing with two unpredictable Nightmaren babies was another thing. "Are you sure you have it under control? I wouldn't want them being young to take its toll." Lance said. Leo waved him off "It's all good Lance, we'll take care of it." He said.

The two maestros had a worried look, but The group found that taking care of rambunctious Nightmaren babies was harder than they thought. NiGHTS and Reala still had the ability to fly, but while NiGHTS still liked to do daredevil stunts, Reala just vanished and reappeared everywhere. Leo panted as he chased after NiGHTS "(Pant) H-How...Are you...this FAST?!" He said, catching his breath.

Mei and Emma had tried to lure Reala to a play pin using his persona mask, but since he was too young to know (or remember) what it was, he floated off to find something else to play with. "There has to be an easier way to calm them down..." Rebecca said, watching as NiGHTS was chasing down the Tims. That's when Trisha Jane got an idea. "Kaylo? You know how to play the flute right?" She asked. The pink hair girl nodded "Yep! Been learning since I was 2!" She said.

"Good. And Aria? You have experience holding kids right?" She asked. Aria also nodded her head "Yes, when I have to babysit for Iben." She replied "Alright, Kaylo, get your flute, Aria come with me." Trisha Jane said, putting her plan into action. A little while later, Baby NiGHTS was being lulled into calming down as a familiar flute tune played, while Reala had settled down into Aria's arms, trying to say her name

"Awia! Awia" He said. The young woman chuckled "Yes. My name is ARIA." She said. Reala then was hugging Aria around her neck "I wove you Awia." He said. A caring smile appeared on her face "Awwwwwwwww. I wove you too Reala." She said as he fell asleep. One the two babies were lulled to sleep, the kids waited for Balan and Lance to return...before the babies woke up again and caused havoc again.

Mei belongs to @sundove88

Rebecca belongs to @thehypercutstudios/@thehyperrequiem

Trisha Jane belongs to @lovelyteng

Aria belongs to @shadowqueen402

#Balan Wonderworld #NiGHTS into Dreams #NiGHTS Journey of Dreams #Balan #Lance #Leo Craig #Emma Cole #NiGHTS #Reala

[countrymusiclover]

34 - An Ice Wall

Part 35

His Golden Princess

@lostweasleychild @fanficismydrug @misskitty1912-blog @drakoneve

Pushing the curtains back I saw Rumple standing behind one of the counters. He sat down a rag , sending me a smile. "Hey, honey. How did you sleep?"

"Good until my phone started blowing up with calls from my dad. Apparently power is out all over town." I replied seeing that it was early in the morning. So we hadn't turned the lights on just yet.

He nodded locking eyes with me seeing me shifting foot to foot. Which was a tell for when I was nervous. "What's bothering you, lass?"

"Nothing." I quickly replied back.

"Astrid." He trailed off in a warning tone with a raised brow in my direction knowing I was lying.

Throwing my head back I leaned my elbows on the glass countertop. "Fine! The truth is I am worried about how my parents and sister will react, you know."

"Astrid, they gave me your blessing to marry you. So I don’t think you have anything to worry about." He reassured me by intertwining my hands with his before my phone rang for the sixth time.

Putting the phone up to my ear I knew it was my father. "Hey dad. What's going on?"

"Can you meet us at the town line. We think something is happening at the town line." He asked through the phone.

Hanging up I grabbed my coat looking to my husband. "Yeah we're on our way."

He grabbed his cane holding his hand up waving his fingers motioning to use magic. "Do you want my way?"

"Sure." I agree with letting him use magic. He engulfed us in a cloud of purple smoke where we appeared a mere ten minutes earlier than my sister and our father.

Hook suddenly came out from the bushes noticing us. "In case you were wondering, it goes the whole way 'round."

Dad scoffed. "Hook, I didn't know you were joining us."

Hook responded back looking at my sister. "I get a distress call from a fair maiden, and I'm on the spot."

"How generous of you, pirate." Rumple dryly chuckled standing beside me.

Emma crossed her arms over her chest. "I was not distressed, and you're saying this wall goes around what... The whole town?"

Hook nodded, making my father trail off. "So, once again, we can't leave Storybrooke."

"Doing more than keeping us inside, by the looks of that. Guess that's what caused the loss of power." The pirate points toward some knocked down power lines.

Emma seemed impressed by his words. "Look at you becoming a 21st-century man. Yeah. It looks to me like whoever was putting up the wall wasn't trying to take out the lights. They were just putting up the wall."

Our father raised a brow. "To keep us in... Why?"

Hook shrugged his shoulders looking in our direction. "Kill us all one by one. It's what I'd do….what about you crocodile?"

Leaving my husband's side I slowly walked up to the wall bending down on a knee feeling cold wind brush over me. "Second date? Did I miss the first?" Listening in my sister's conversation I didn't bother looking over my shoulder.

"Aye. The snow monster's the first. Ice wall's the second. After all, if I only count the quiet dinners, we wouldn't even get one." Hook admitted where I reached forward brushing my hand and feeling ice touch my fingertips.

Emma left, coming to inspect the wall alongside me. "I think I see something by the wall. You wait here with your ice bucket while I check that out."

Dad got into protective mode. "I think it's time. You and I have a little talk about your intentions with my daughter."

"That's a little old-fashioned, even by my standards, and I still pay with doubloons." Hook took a step back at his words.

Dad shook his head. "Oh, remember, I know your reputation. Emma is not some conquest."

Rumple walked up behind me watching me dust off dirt from my jeans turning to face him when he asked, eyeing the ice wall up and down. "Can you feel it, Astrid. There's magic on the other side of the wall."

"Definitely. Although, what kind of person has the ability to create an ice wall." I tapped my chin in thought remembering the villains we had faced in the past. "I think the weirdest will be flying monkeys for sure."

Whipping my head around I heard a commotion on the inside of the wall before ice fell in between us and where my sister had gone. "Emma!" I bolted forward attempting to reach her until Rumple yanked me backwards.

"Astrid!" Some thick ice hit the ground at our feet hard when I released a breath seeing that I could have gotten hurt. Dad and Hook ran forward trying to find a way in but the only way to fix this was magic.

My father glanced back at us when I waved my hand creating my sword about to swing at some of the pieces until he gently grabbed my wrist. "Wait a minute. Could we just save her with magic without chopping away at it."

"Dad, if we don't hurry Emma will freeze to death." I spat lowering my arm once I broke it from his grip. I wasn’t going to just stand back and let my sister get hurt when we lived in a town full of magic.

Hook spun on his feet throwing his hand up towards my husband frustrated that he wasn’t doing anything. “You're the bloody dark one. Do something.”

“Well, I could melt the ice and destroy it with a thought, but that would also destroy your girlfriend. Is that what you want?” Rumple points his index finger at the pirate snapping off at him.

My father held his hands up in the air before a fight broke out between the two former enemies. “No one's destroying anyone. Now, the woman who has Emma trapped is in there with her, and she's looking for her sister... name of Anna. She thinks she's in town because of something of hers she found in your shop... A necklace.”

“So you’re saying he made a deal with her sister back in the Enchanted Forest?” Turning my head towards my husband I asked him knowing that he could simply conger it up easily. “Do you still have the necklace? Maybe we could do a locator spell on Anna.”

Rumple raises his right hand in the air a little creating a silver necklace holding it on his index finger. “You’re becoming a fast learner, love.”

My father grabbed his radio standing close to the ice wall trying to talk to the supposed Elsa girl. “I know how you feel. You're trapped. It's a battle you can't win, but it's exactly the kind of battle you have to fight, or you'll die.”

Elsa trailed off. “No, I won't. I'll survive. But Emma…”

Dad responded with me intertwining my freehand with Rumple’s. “Survival isn't enough. You have to live.”

Elsa almost cried back. “Anna? You knew her?”

“Yeah, I did. She helped me once, a long time ago, become who I am. She saved my life and yours, and now I need you to save Emma's. I didn't know much about Anna, but... She wouldn't want you to live alone in an ice cave, which is where you'll be if you don't melt that ice. Now do it!” Once he said that speech I gasped watching a hole in the wall coming through and a woman in a blue dress was helping my sister get out.

Without thinking I ran up to the woman hugging her where she stumbled backwards a little when I broke the embrace. “Thank you for saving her.”

Elsa gave me a weak expression. “Yes, I did. But I also endangered her. You owe me nothing.”

“I owe your sister everything, and what I said was true. She helped me, and now I'm gonna help you. This isn't over. We're gonna find Anna.” My father explained standing beside me resting a hand on my shoulder until he led her toward the truck and I met up with Rumple where we ended up inside the shop again.

He leaned against the counter grabbing at his heart inside his chest grunting. “Argh!”

“Rumple. What is wrong?” Spinning around on my feet I gently gripped his shoulder watching him shutter under my touch before he reached inside his chest pulling out his own heart holding it in my view.

“It seems that centuries of dark deeds do take their toll. I didn’t start feeling the effects until recently.” He explained that while my eyes remained trained on the heart, unlike mine that was bright red inside my chest, he was almost fully black. “I need to find a way to stop the last bit of light from disappearing…”

He pushed his heart back inside where I grasped his hand in mine meeting the brown eyes where I could see actual concern in them. “Hey, hey, look at me Rumple. We will figure this out. You and me.” He leans his forehead against mine releasing a slow breath. I refuse to lose the father of my child.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

#his golden princess #rumplestilskin x reader #ouat rumple #rumplestiltskin #ouat rumplestilskin x reader #ouat rumplestilskin #rumple x reader #robert carlyle #oc : astrid swan #margot robbie #emma swam x sister reader #emma swan #regina mills #the evil queen #the dark one #ouat snow white #ouat prince charming #david nolan #mary margaret blanchard #once upon a time #ouat fic #ouat fandom #ouat fanfiction #ouat x reader #ouat #ouat mr. gold #henry mills #ask box is open for feedback #wattpad fanfiction #comments really appreciated

[sammysdewysensitiveeyes]

"You are officially in charge! Seeya!"

“Wait just a damn minute!” Pyro snapped as Shinobi bolted for the door.  Between the toddler climbing up his back and methodically mashing peanut butter into his hair, and the five-year old wrapped around his calf, Pyro could not stand up to give chase.  But with a quick flick of his wrist, a barrier of fire rolled down across the doorway. 

“You can’t play with fire in here!  Think of the children!” Shinobi exclaimed. 

“Try me,” Pyro grinned.  He would drop the barrier if any of the herd of mutant children that filled the rec room got too close.  He’d probably be fast enough.  “No way in hell are you ducking out and leaving me alone with this!”

“There’s no need for us both to suffer!  I obviously wouldn’t know the first thing about caring for children, so I’ll just – wait, why am I even arguing with you?  Shinobi suddenly dropped, intangible, through the floor.

“I’ll tell Storm!”  Pyro yelled after him, extinguishing the fire wall.  They had both been assigned to mutant child baby-sitting duty while the rest of the crew battled their way to another stranded group.  Why they – or rather, he - had been deemed inessential personnel for a combat mission, when Pyro’s abilities were all about mayhem and destruction, was a mystery.  He suspected that he was being punished for suggesting that Emma just psychically put the little brats to sleep.

Shinobi’s head popped back up through the floor, glaring up at Pyro.

“Don’t be a snitch!”

“Don’t expect me to cover your back if you fuck me over!” Pyro snapped back.  “We both got sat at the kiddy table today, we’re both doing it!”

“Fuck me over,” repeated the toddler, giggling, and continuing to massage a handful of peanut butter against Pyro’s scalp.  God damn, and he’d put so much work into gelling the curl out of his hair, too. 

“Are you a ghost?”  The five-year old, a green-colored little girl with odd suction cups at the tips of her fingers, was staring wide-eyed at Shinobi.  She uncurled herself from Pyro’s leg and stood up.

“Yes,” Shinobi said, rising up out of the floor.  “I’m the the ghost who eats little children that don’t behave.”  The little girl’s lip trembled ominously.

“Nah, he’s a funny ghost!”  Pyro broke in.  “Like Casper!  Or that slime thing from Ghostbusters.”  Would the children even know those references?  This latest batch of mutants was from Thailand.  “Look, you can chuck things right through him!”

Pyro tossed a crayon through the still-intangible Shinobi.

This was the pebble that started the avalanche, because soon every child in the room was happily throwing things through Shinobi, who stood scowling with his arms crossed.

“What?  You’re not even getting your suit wrinkled, which is more than I can say for myself.”  Pyro was running to take a shower the very instant the rest of the Marauders brought their smug  asses back to the ship. 

“Ugh.  Now I understand Father’s stance on children.  Which is basically don’t.  I need a cocktail,” Shinobi grimaced, making his way over to the counter.

“What’s a cocktail?  I wanna cocktail!”  A small boy, around primary school age, piped up.  He had a pair of tiny wings on his back that fluttered excitedly under his shirt.

“Ha!  Maybe you should give him one, Shinobi.  It would probably quiet the little blighters down.”  A little fruit-flavored “night-night” juice would make their job so much easier.

“Tempting, but I think Storm would kill us both.”  Shinobi was pouring various colored liquids into a mixture.  The winged boy and the sucker-hand girl had followed him in, watching intently.

“Can we make one?  Pleeeeeeaaaase?”  The girl’s eyes, already dark and watery, seemed to grow even larger as her faced scrunched up.

“It’s for grown-ups, love,” Pyro called over to her.

“I suppose I could make a child-friendly version,” Shinobi mused.  “Harry used to do that for me when I was at the Hellfire club and Father was busy.  I usually went right to sleep after.  Come to think of it, I’m not entirely sure he gave me child-friendly drinks.”  Shinobi paused, looking at the two children.

“Alright, if I show you how to make a Shirley Temple, will you promise to be quiet and behave for the rest of the afternoon?”

“Yeeeees!” The children chorused, despite probably having no idea what (or who ) a Shirley Temple was.

Meanwhile, things were getting chaotic over by Pyro’s spot on the couch.  Two of the older children were now beating each other with pillows, which was safe, but were also knocking things off tables, which was not so safe.  There was a game of Tag going on that would probably soon end in tears.  Another toddler was smearing melted chocolate across the wall – at least Pyro hoped it was chocolate – while the one on his back had given up his hairstylist aspirations and was now kicking at Pyro’s side and making growling noises.

“Okay, that’s enough of that!”  Pyro swept the kid off, and planted him on the floor.

“Imma tiger!” The boy declared.

“Live the dream, kid.”  Pyro stood up to gesture at the children.  “Okay, knock all that shit off!  It’s story-time!”  He put a certain amount of authoritative menace into his voice, pretending he was on a Brotherhood bank job.  Putting on a movie would have been much easier, but the only TV in the room had already fallen victim to a particularly rowdy fight over Encanto vs. Sonic the Hedgehog.

“I don’t want a story!”  One of the pillow-fighting children protested.

“Tough shit, story-time is mandatory!”  Pyro punctuated this with a blossom of flame that he shaped into a skull, and damn if that didn’t get the kids’ attention.  Running, fidgeting, and vandalism paused while the children gaped at him.

“Now then.”  Pyro sat down primly, pulling out a battered paperback, and began to read:

“The unicorn lived in a lilac wood, and she lived all alone. She was very old, though she did not know it, and she was no longer the careless color of sea foam, but rather the color of snow falling on a moonlit night. But her eyes were still clear and unwearied, and she still moved like a shadow on the sea.”

As he read aloud, he wove a fire tapestry in the air, with the delicate unicorn prancing among the trees.  It was heavily ripped-off inspired from the animated movie, but none of the children seemed to mind.  They were probably too young to have seen it, anyway.  They just stared up in awe as Pyro let a butterfly sculpted out of flame flutter over their heads. 

In the kitchen, Pyro could hear quiet giggling and liquid splashing, while Shinobi explained to the children the golden ratio for cocktails. 

And for about ten minutes, all was well.

Then a girl with wolf-like features leaned over and bit the arm of the boy sitting next to her, and all hell broke loose again.

(OOC: Once again, I have Pyro as a fan of The Last Unicorn, because I personally love it. But what the hell, he'd probably love the tragic romance aspect of it, even while he tells everyone that he's just into that Red Bull made of fire.)

#pyro #st john allerdyce #shinobi shaw

[careeralley]

8 Tips That Might Help You Cope With Stress

When it comes to stress, everyone has different triggers and different ways of coping. Some people get stressed out easily, while others seem to be able to handle anything that comes their way. But no matter how you deal with stress, there are always going to be times when it feels like it's too much to handle. If you're feeling overwhelmed by stress; Here Are Some Tips That Might Help You Cope: 1. Identify your stressors The first step to managing stress is to identify what is causing you stress. Not all stressors are created equal, and some people may be more sensitive to certain types of stress than others. Once you know what is stressing you out, you can start to develop a plan to deal with it. 2. Avoid or minimize exposure to your stressors If possible, avoid or minimize your exposure to the things that are causing you stress. This may not always be possible, but it is worth considering if it is an option for you. If you cannot avoid your stressors, try to minimize your exposure to them by scheduling breaks throughout the day or taking steps to reduce their impact. 3. Develop a support network Having a supportive network of family and friends can make a big difference in how you deal with stress. These people can provide emotional support and practical assistance when you need it. If you do not have a strong support network, consider joining a support group or reaching out to a counselor or therapist. 4. Be proactive about managing your stress Don’t wait until you are feeling overwhelmed by stress to start managing it. Taking proactive steps to manage your stress can help you feel better and prevent stress from taking over your life. There are many different stress management techniques, so experiment to find what works best for you. Some popular options include relaxation techniques, exercise, and journaling. Photo by Emma Simpson on Unsplash 5. Seek professional help If you are struggling to cope with stress on your own, it may be time to seek professional help. A counselor or therapist can provide you with support and guidance as you learn to manage your stress. You may also want to consider medication if you are experiencing severe stress or anxiety. Talk to your doctor about what options are available and right for you. Some people get stressed out easily, while others seem to be able to handle anything that comes their way. But no matter how you deal with stress, there are always going to be times when it feels like it's too much to handle.Click To Tweet 6. Take care of yourself In addition to managing your stress, it is important to take care of yourself both physically and emotionally. Eating Delta 9 THC Gummies, a healthy diet, getting regular exercise, and getting enough sleep are all important for managing stress. Taking time out for activities that you enjoy can also help you relax and reduce your stress levels. 7. Be patient Learning to manage stress takes time and practice. Be patient with yourself as you explore different stress management techniques. Some techniques may work better for you than others, so don’t get discouraged if one doesn’t seem to help. With time and effort, you will find what works best for you and be on your way to a less stressful life. 8. Seek professional help if your stress is impacting your life If your stress is impacting your ability to function in daily life, it may be time to seek professional help. A counselor or therapist can provide you with support and guidance as you learn to manage your stress. If you are experiencing severe stress or anxiety, you may also want to consider medication. Talk to your doctor about what options are available and right for you. In Conclusion Stress is a part of life, but it doesn’t have to take over your life. There are many things you can do to manage stress and improve your well-being. If you are struggling to cope with stress on your own, seek professional help. With time and effort, you can learn to manage your stress and live a happier, healthier life. Read the full article

[thejilyship]

Taking the Lead

For @jilychallenge August 2021 Theme: Summer Prompt: "I saw you staring and so decided to try to put on my suncream ~sensually~ but omg the lid just popped off and the whole bottle came out stOP grinning oMG" @thejilyship v @sirenicc I did not think I was going to get this done! Also it's fem!jily. No one should be surprised at this point.

WC: 3.5k AO3

A leadership camp was the absolute last place that Jamie wanted to spend any part of her summer. She and Sirius had made plans to go white water rafting, concert hoping, castle hiking, dive bar hunting and he’d even promised to attend a total of four sperate ballets with her. She did not have time to spend a week in the middle of the Scottish hills singing camp songs with a bunch of people that she didn’t know.

She didn’t need a leadership camp. She was, as almost every single one of her teachers and professors had said, a natural born leader. Some of her teachers had said this with admiration coloring their tone, and others had said it in a ‘your daughter really needs to stop getting the entire class to break into song in the middle of third period’ kind of way, but either way, they had all been in agreement.

She took the bus to camp so she would be less inclined to run off in the middle of it, and she went to the main building to sign in, which she was informed would be hence forth called ‘command center.’ She refrained from rolling her eyes.

She accepted her key and went off to find her dorm with her yellow duffle bag resting on her hip. Since they were all adults, they weren’t making them sleep in groups of twenty or so, and were instead grouped into fours. Jamie’s cabin was number five, which was her lucky number, and so far the only good omen she had gotten from this place.

She knocked before she pushed the cabin door open. Two of her three bunkmates were already there, setting up their beds. A redhead with striking green eyes and a petite brunette with springy hair and a gorgeous smattering of freckles. Jamie smiled at the two of them and they smiled back.

“Hey! My name is Lily,” The redhead held out her hand, bold and assertive. Jamie didn’t think she was in much need of a leadership camp either. “This here is my best friend, Mary.”

“Lily and Mary, it’s nice to meet you both. I’m Jamie.” She pulled her duffle off her shoulder and claimed the open bottom bunk. “Are you best mates in the camp sense, or have you met before today?”

Mary laughed, “Best friends since we were eleven. I dragged Lily along to this camp because I’m incapable of leaving home without her.”

“And it sounded like fun!” Lily added, looking back at her curly haired friend. “Did you know that this camp has a ropes course?” She asked, turning back to Jamie.

“A rope course? And that sounds like fun to you?”

“Of course, it does!”

“Wait until we’re actually on the ropes course,” Mary chuckled, “Lily is afraid of heights.” She tilted her head toward Jamie and raised her brows.

“I’m not afraid of heights,” Lily argued. “I simply… do not… like them.”

“Right.” Mary laughed.

Rooming with best friends might not be the best case scenario, as they already had someone to pair off with for all the group activities they were bound to do over the next week. They had a fourth roommate yet, so Jamie would reserve her pessimistic judgment until then. In the meantime, Lily and Mary seemed like nice people who she could eat meals with if nothing else.

“There’s also a lake,” Lily apparently still found the need to explain why she thought this camp would be fun. “And the weather is supposed to be brilliant this week. Sunny and warm!”

“I’m here for the seminars and workshops, not for the lake.” Mary said.

“You can be here for both.” Lily shrugged. “And, as much as I love you, I’m here for the arts and crafts, camp food and fun activities.”

“Arts and crafts is an activity. And this is a camp for adults, do you really think-“

Lily cut Mary off with a scoff. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. “If you think I didn’t check before I agreed to come, then you have another thing coming, MacDonald.” She turned her phone out so it was facing Mary, and Jamie a bit. Jamie was able to see colorful pictures of string bracelets, painted pottery, and she couldn’t tell what else.

“Well then,” Mary shook her head. “I hope you get to live out your summer camp dreams.”

“Thank you.” Lily nodded, looking rather smug. It was a look that worked for Lily. Her cheeks took on a dusting of pink, her green eyes grew brighter, and she sat up taller. Jamie turned to her duffle to avoid being caught ogling.

There was a knock on the door and the three girls turned in unison.

“Hello, I’m Emma Vanity. I guess I’m your fourth.” She gave a sharp wave and then looked at the three taken beds before her eyes fell onto the unclaimed top bunk above Jamie.

“I’m Mary and this is Lily,” Mary pointed at Lily, who offered a bright smile.

“And I’m Jamie Potter.”

“Potter?” Emma’s brow shot up. “As in Potions by Potter? Are your parents Fleamont and Euphemia Potter?”

“It’s a fairly common last name,” Jamie shrugged. She wouldn’t have added her last name if she had thought someone would recognize it.

“Right,” Emma laughed and dropped her bag to the ground. “Well, either way, I’m sure that you are a greatperson to share a bunk with.” She knew who Jamie was, that was clear.

“Mary’s mother was a circus performer if that interests anyone.” Lily had pulled out a bag of jelly candies and tore one in half with her front teeth. Jamie smiled at her appreciatively.

“Does she still perform?”

“No, she retired when I started school.” Mary said. “But she does teach trapeze classes down at the local leisure center.”

“They’re great fun.” Lily nodded. “Should we go and find ourselves some lunch?”

“I hope you know that they aren’t going to serve bad camp food.” Mary pushed herself off Lily’s bed. “Are you two coming with us?”

Emma looked at Jamie, and since Jamie had no desire to be alone with Emma just then, she smiled at Lily and nodded. “Sure. I’m always ready to eat.”

“I’ll come too,” Emma nodded. “I’ve already memorized the layout of the camp, so you can all follow me.” And then she was walking back toward the door.

Lily, who had just proven herself to be very familiar with the camp, was looking at Emma’s retreating figure with raised brows, but she didn’t say anything and just hopped off her bed.

“Off we go then,” Mary bit her bottom lip and followed Lily. Jamie closed the door behind them.

The sun was out, and it was warm, which Jamie hadn’t fully appreciated before Lily had told her that they could expect this weather to last all week. And she hadn’t known there was a lake. That hadn’t been on her list of fun summer activities she wanted to do with Sirius, but she hadn’t been a beach in a while, and while she was sure the beach on this random camp lake wasn’t brilliant, it would be nice.

Especially if Lily was also there to talk it up.

oOo

Jamie gravitated toward Lily over the next couple of days. At first she thought it was because the other girl’s positive attitude was contagious, and while it was, that wasn’t the sole reason.

Jamie had developed a little bit of a crush.

Except not really, because Jamie had never once developed a ‘little’ crush in her life. It took exactly one day for her to realize that she was already deciding how the two of them would find time for each other after they left camp. Two days in and she had decided that their first pet would be a short haired cat named Mr. Tums, preferable all black.

Three days in and she was almost certain that she was in love.

Not in love in love, she understood that was ridiculous.

No, on day three, she was simply falling in love.

It would be a few more days until she was actually in love.

Lily had her shoulder length hair in twin braids today. Whisps of baby hairs framing her face and she kept reaching up to brush them away from her eyes, which only drew more attention to her eyes and her hair and all the other parts of her face that Jamie couldn’t stop staring at.

And at the moment, she was wearing a bloody bikini as she sat on the towel next to Jamie’s on the small beach the camp had to offer. A bikini.

Jamie was doing everything she could to ignore the bikini, but it was there, and showing off every soft curve and gentle swoop of Lily Evans’ body. Jamie was in a t-shirt and boardshorts, because she couldn’t possibly exist in the space next to Lily Evans wearing anything less than this and keep the ability to speak.

Not that her ability to speak was getting her far. Lily was doing most of the talking.

“What do you think?” Lily reached out and nudged Jamie on the shoulder, her bubblegum pink nails scraping lightly on the sleeve of Jamie’s t-shirt.

The quirk in Lily’s brow let Jamie know that she had missed something. Keeping her clothes on may have left her with the ability to speak, but Lily wearing that bikini had hindered her ability to listen. She’d been so focused on not staring at Lily that she hadn’t remembered to pay attention to what she was saying.

“What do I think about what again?” Jamie asked, not bothering to pretend that she had heard Lily. The knowing smile on Lily’s face should have made Jamie a bit self-conscious, but she liked how smug Lily looked knowing the effect she had on Jamie. She also wanted Lily to know that she liked her, especially since Lily had not acted as though knowing made her even the slightest bit uncomfortable.

“I was asking for your opinion one what we should do this evening. I want to watch the sunset over the lake, but I don’t think I can stay down here until then. I’ll fry. So should we go to the craft cabin and make some more bracelets,” She held up her rope bracelet covered wrist and shook it, “Or should we have an early dinner?”

“Don’t we have a class to go to before dinner?” Jamie asked, looking out at the water after briefly glancing in Lily’s direction.

“I didn’t sign up for anything. Did you?”

“Probably not.” Jamie shrugged. “Mary isn’t upset with you for ditching her?”

Lily snorted. “I’m hardly ditching her. Besides, she knew I wasn’t going to be signing up for anything that wasn’t required. I came for the crafts and the beach. And to share a bunk with her.” She was smiling at Jamie, she could feel it aimed at the side of her head.

“Alright, well then, I think we should stay down here for a while longer and then go and get some dinner. I didn’t really enjoy the bracelet making.”

“You’re just upset that I’m better at it than you.”

“No.” Jamie shook her head. “I can honestly say that I’m not upset because you’re better than me. I’m upset because I can not figure out how to do it at all. All five attempts turned into a tangled knot of colorful string and heartbreak.”

“You picked out great colors,” Lily had her lips pressed together when Jamie mustered up the fortitude needed to face her. She used all the strength she had to keep her gaze on Lily’s face and then let out a huff and laid back on her towel.

“Thanks a million.”

“Of course.” She reached out and patted the back of Jamie’s hand, her bubblegum pink nails drawing Jamie’s eye. “If we’re going to stay for a while more, I should put on more sunscreen.”

Jamie reached for the bag on her right and handed it to Lily and then shut her eyes. She couldn’t watch Lily put on sunscreen. She knew that she wouldn’t handle that well. Especially not when Lily seemed to be in a mind to tease the shit out of Jamie. Which Jamie knew she deserved after the entirely unsubtle way she had told Lily and Mary about her ex-girlfriend. She had blushed immediately after saying it and then muttered about needing a restroom.

Lily hadn’t brought up any exes at all, but she had followed Jamie on Instagram the first night, and it didn’t take a whole lot of work to figure out that Lily also represented a letter or two from the alphabet.

Jamie bit down on the tip of her tongue and wondered how long she would need to keep her eyes closed before it would be safe to open them.

She heard the cap of the sunscreen pop open and started counting, figuring three minutes to be ample time. She took the time to take a few deep breaths, have a few imaginary conversations with Sirius where he called her a dumbass, whacked her over the head and told her to make her move, and then tried to clear her head of any and all nonsense.

“Where do you head back to after this week?” Lily asked, and Jamie almost opened her eyes.

“Winchester. My brother and I are staying with our parents for the summer, and we have a lot of plans. This camp actually threw a bit of a wrench in our plans, but da wanted me to come here.”

“He didn’t want your brother to come?”

Jamie snorted. “Can you imagine? I mean, da did ask him if he wanted to, but Sirius is very… anti-group activities.”

“What plans were ruined?” Jamie turned her head and opened her eyes, figuring the sun screening was done with now.

It was not.

Lily was rubbing it into her shoulders, her hands moving slowly and her nails contrasting sharply with the pale tone of her skin.

Jamie’s mouth went dry and she tried to swallow.

Lily’s brow went up and Jamie cleared her throat. “Ballet.”

“What?”

“The ballet. I got Sirius to agree to go to a few different shows with me, which he never does, and I’m missing one of them to be here.”

The tip of Lily’s pink tongue peeked out from between her lips and Jamie bit down on her own tongue. What was it about this girl that had Jamie acting like a randy, seventeen-year-old, boy?

“The ballet? I didn’t picture you-“

“I’m actually a ballerina.”

Lily blinked her big green eyes and brought her shoulder up to her chin.

“I mean, I saw the pictures of you with your dance bag, but I guess I just…” Jamie hadn’t posted any recent pics of her in anything dance related, and so she smirked at the knowledge that Lily had been snooping.

“You didn’t picture me as a ballerina? What kind of dancer did you think I was?”

“Honestly? I thought you were a theater dancer.”

Jamie chuckled. “I mean, I have dabbled in the theater.”

“Dabbled? I think it’s you use of words like ‘dabbled’ that made me think theater actually.”

“Dabbled is a normal word.”

“Sure, and it made me think ‘theater kid.’” Lily turned back to the bottle of sunscreen and picked it up, squeezing some onto her hand before she angled one of her legs and started rubbing her hands together. The point of her toe, the angle of her head, it was all deliberate. Jamie knew that it was all deliberate, but she didn’t care. She watched on bated breath as Lily started working the sunscreen into her leg. She started at her upper thigh and worked her way down to the ankle, slowly, making sure to cover every inch of skin.

“How long have you been a ballerina?”

Jamie had to unclench her jaw to answer. “Since I was about five.”

“And when did you dabble in the theater?” Lily’s voice was even and normal, like she wasn’t currently putting on a show for Jamie. She should have kept her eyes shut. She should close her eyes right now, but she knew that she wasn’t going to.

“Um… I think the first musical I was in, I was eight? Mum was helping out with…” She trailed off as Lily angled her other leg and started on that thigh. “Mum was helping with costumes. It was just a small local production.”

“Of what?”

“Fiddler on the Roof.” Jamie hoped that she was answering Lily’s questions, but she really wasn’t paying attention to what either of them were saying. For the first time since she’d seen Lily in this stupid bikini, she was allowing herself to look at her. She was drinking it in.

Jamie was pretty sure that Lily said something else, and half of her brain heard it, though it took a while to get it all pieced together. “I’ve seen Fiddler on the Roof. Mary was a theater kid, so I’ve actually seen a lot of musicals.”

“Good.” Jamie nodded, even though she knew that wasn’t really a top notch response.

Lily picked up the bottle of sunscreen and popped the cap open again, and Jamie could feel the pop in the back of her teeth. She watched Lily tighten her hand around the bottle, squeezing more onto her open palm.

“I might need your help with my back-“

About two seconds before Jamie would have had a heart attack and passed away right there on the small camp beach in the middle of nowhere, the top of the bottle came off and, with Lily still squeezing the bottle, the sunscreen went everywhere. It splattered all over Lily’s lap, chest and towel. It got on Jamie too, a large glob landing on the lens of her glasses.

They both froze for a minute before Jamie looked up at Lily from her one clear lens. Lily’s cheeks were bright red and she was looking at the still dripping bottle as though it had purposefully ruined her plans to send Jamie to an early grave.

The building tension crumbled like a saltine cracker.

“That’s what you get,” Jamie said, reaching over and wiping a large glob off of Lily’s nose. Then she started laughing as Lily turned to look at her. Her cheeks stayed red, but she cracked a grin. “That was totally deserved!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Lily shook her head and dropped the offending bottle. She started smearing and wiping at all the excess sunscreen, wiping her hands on her towel to get it off. “I wasn’t doing anything.”

Jamie started laughing harder. “You’re a liar.”

Lily bit down on her bottom lip, still shaking her head. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You most certainly do know what I mean, and now you’ve made a mess of yourself.”

“The cap broke! I don’t know why you’re telling me I deserve it.”

Jamie reached over and swiped at another glob at Lily’s shoulder. “Sure, Evans.” She whipped her hand so it landed somewhere in the grass and then got another glob from Lily’s hair. “So that’s just how you normally put on sunscreen?”

“Of course it is.”

“I can’t wait to see how your normally put on your pajamas tonight.”

Lily’s face went a shade or two darker and Jamie laughed again.

“You know what, if I was putting it on… a certain sort of way, it was only because you were looking at me-“

“I hadn’t been looking at you!” Jamie took her glasses off and carefully went about cleaning them. “I had very deliberately not been looking at you. You waited until I was looking at you.”

Lily was quiet until Jamie looked over at her, having to squint in order to see the look on her face. She put her glasses back on to confirm that she was looking smug. She was. “Okay, but then you couldn’t take your eyes off me.”

“Have you ever heard the phrase, in for a penny, in for a pound?”

Lily narrowed her brow in confusion. “I have.”

“I’ve only ever had fancied three people in my life, including yourself,” Lily sat up straighter and Jamie felt her cheeks heat but shook her head. Lily had already known that Jamie fancied her. “Yes, go and head a preen over it.”

“I am flattered,” Lily, still covered in globs of sunscreen, waved her hair back over her shoulder with one of her hands. Then she looked at Jamie expectantly.

Jamie sucked in a sharp breath through her nose and released it all at once. “Where do you live, Evans? And how far is it from Winchester?”

“And why do you ask?”

“Because I’ve a feeling that we’ll have some unfinished business come Friday.”

And then Lily laughed, and Jamie felt it all the way to the tips of her toes.

#jily #jily challenge #fem!jily #jilychallenge #my fic #fel writes jily

[harringtonstilinski]

You’ll Always Be My Hero - Chapter 64 ; Condition Terminal

Author: @harringtonstilinski Characters: Stiles Stilinski x Emma Thomas (OC) Word Count: 7,609 Warnings: angst, protective!stiles (he’s kind of an ass, but i think it’s necessary), multiple pov switches, cliffhanger at the end..?? A/N: Hi, friends! If you haven’t seen my super tiny announcement the week before Thanksgiving, then you’ll know that I had Baby Boy on 11/18. We’re adjusting to life with a 5 year old and a newborn, but the Little went back to school on 11/29, so hopefully between feedings and diaper changes with Baby, I’ll be able to edit more and get more content out for y’all. If you like this chapter, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox. As always, read at your own risk and enjoy 😊

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THIRD PERSON POV

After Emma had passed out from the blood loss, Stiles immediately called her parents. He told them what had happened and that an ambulance was coming for her before hanging up the phone and waiting for the ambulance to show up.

Stiles didn't want to leave Emma's side, but after hearing her words, something sparked inside of him. You'll always be my hero. Even though he told himself over and over again that he wasn't a hero, she still believed that he was. Emma believed with all of her heart that Stiles was a hero. In his own way. Not like Scott; supernatural abilities and all that jazz. Stiles was a hero in his own way. Without him coming up with plans and doing research, pretty much everyone would be dead. He was the man with the plan.

As he thought about all of this, he sat down next to Emma's head, placing her head in his lap. He began stroking her hair when Scott squatted next to him. 

“She'll be okay,” Scott said. “She's a fighter. If she can survive Peter almost killing her, being paralyzed by Jackson and dealing with a creepy stalker Matt, almost getting killed by Jennifer, Void, the Deadpool-- she can come out of this.”

Stiles thought back to all that they've encountered over the last two years. A lot's happened and Emma survived and came out on top. He smiled a little. “Yeah. She's a fighter, alright.”

Scott chuckled a little and looked at Emma, noticing the necklace that she'd been wearing every day for the last six months. He leaned forward and put his finger under it, trying to get a better look. “She's worn this necklace every day for six months.” “Yeah. It's one of her favorites,” Stiles replied, not even paying attention to Scott. 

“You never see what's attached, though,” Scott said. He pulled the chain up higher, seeing if anything was going to dangle off of it. To his surprise, a ring was attached. “Uh, Stiles?”

“Yeah?”

“Got anything you wanna tell me?” 

“No, why--” Stiles said. He looked up at Scott, seeing that he was looking at Emma's promise ring, and sighed.

Scott looked at him. “Care to elaborate? Like, when you gave it to her?”

Stiles sighed and hung his head, closing his eyes. He opened them back up and looked at Emma's sleeping face. “I gave it to her after we rescued you and Kira in Mexico.”

Scott didn't say anything, just waited for more of an explanation with a smirk on his face. 

Stiles sighed again and went into his tiny rant. “I made her a promise that I'll always love her. To be by her side through all of the supernatural shit that comes our way. Never leave her for another girl. A promise to love and cherish her.” He looked up at his best friend. “Scott, I'm gonna marry her one day. It's basically a promise to her. I've wanted to since I knew what love was.”

Scott’s smirk started to turn to a smile when he heard the ambulance outside. “Ambulance is here--” He heard two car doors shut. “And her parents.”

“Awesome,” Stiles muttered. “Her dad's gonna put this on me... like usual.”

The ambulance came in first, getting Emma hooked up to oxygen and an IV. Her parents came in, Rose rushing to hug Stiles. Carter fell behind a few feet, seeing his daughter unconscious on the stretcher. 

“Stiles, you listen to me,” Rose said. Stiles nodded his head. “I'm going with Emma to the hospital. You, Carter, Scott and Deaton are to go to the station; your dad's still there. I'll text or call you with updates on Emma. Now, go. The four of you.”

“I'm sorry, Rose,” Stiles whispered.

“It wasn't your fault. These things happen,” Rose said, her voice gentle. “I accept your apology, but it wasn’t your fault.”

“Come on, boys,” Carter said. 

The boys and Deaton went with Carter to the station while Rose went in the ambulance with Emma.

~~~

Getting to the station, no one knew what they were gonna see. Deaton found half of Tracy's tail on the ground as Kira and Lydia rushed over to Stiles while Scott helped Sheriff up from his position on the floor. 

“Where's Emma?” Lydia asked.

“She's going to the hospital. Tracy cut her pretty badly with her tail,” Stiles said. “Her mom's riding with her.”

“Scott,” Deaton said. It grabbed everyone's attention. Scott walked over to Deaton, seeing him putting his jacket over Tracy's tail.

Mrs. Martin came back from the basement. Tracy had dragged her down there. She spotted Lydia and rushed over to her, engulfing her in a hug. 

Scott walked to a room, looking into it. “Stiles,” he called.

But Stiles was in his own little world, worrying about his girlfriend. 

“Stiles,” Scott called again. Stiles finally turned to look at Scott. “Stiles, come on,” Scott said.

“Stiles, go find Tracy. Help Tracy,” Lydia said.

“Come on, Stiles,” Sheriff said. 

Stiles turned around and helped his father walk to the basement where Malia was. Scott ran in and slid to a stop, causing Malia to turn around. 

“It wasn't me,” she said, holding her hands out low in surrender. Stiles and Sheriff walked up a couple seconds later. Malia looked at the people coming in, noticing one was missing. “Where's Emma?”

“Hospital. We'll talk about it later,” Scott said, looking at Tracy's body lying behind Malia.

“What the hell happened to her?” Sheriff asked. “And why is Emma at the hospital?”

Deaton got down on the ground next to Tracy's body.

Stiles and Sheriff walked over to Malia. “Tracy cut her with her tail. She lost a lot of blood and passed out,” Stiles said to his father.

“There were these people,” Malia said, voice laced with fear. “They had masks. Uhm, there-- there were-- there were three of them. I think there were three.”

“What-- what are you talking about?” Stiles asked.

“They were strong, Stiles,” Malia stammered. “They had a weapon. Stiles, I didn't do this. Emma would think so, but I didn't do this. I swear.”

“Okay,” Stiles said.

“She's not changing back,” Deaton said. “We're going to need to get her out of here.”

“What, hey-- absolutely not,” Sheriff said. “This is a crime scene.”

Carter walked in the room after that. “Update on Emma: they're prepping her for emergency surgery. What the hell happened to this girl?”

“We call the coroner,” Sheriff said, like no one had walked in the room. 

“I think the coroner might be very confused by this girl's severed reptilian tail,” Deaton said.

“I don't care,” Sheriff said.

“You should. Unless you're prepared to hold a press conference announcing the presence of supernatural creatures in Beacon Hills,” Deaton explained.

Sheriff looked over to Carter, who had tilted his head side to side, agreeing with Deaton.

“Dad, he's right,” Stiles said. 

“I agree,” Carter said. He desperately wanted everyone, especially Stiles, to ask what happened to her, but there were more pressing matters at hand. Carter knew that Stiles loved Emma, but his attention was on this now; trying to figure out what to do with this girl that's just died... and apparently has a severed reptilian tail.

Sheriff, on the other hand, felt like his head was about to explode from everything. His Sheriff side was shining a little bit brighter at the moment.

“Maybe at the clinic we can figure out how to change her back, then call the coroner?” Scott suggested. 

“There-- there-- there's a line-- there is a line that we have to draw,” Sheriff said. 

“Dad, you've already crossed it. More than once,” Stiles said.

The Stilinski men looked like they were about to butt heads. 

“Sheriff, Deputy, please,” Deaton said. “Let me help. I've dealt with things like this before.” Sheriff's eyes stayed on Deaton for a few seconds as he shook his head before he relented. “Just do it fast,” he said, softly.

Scott rolled up his sleeves, ready to help Deaton carry Tracy's body out of the station.

Sheriff looked to Carter who was looking at Stiles.

“Stiles,” Carter said, the aforementioned boy looking at him. “Come on. Let's get to the hospital.”

~~~

FIRST PERSON POV

I didn't remember much after I passed out at the clinic, so opening my eyes to see nothing but bright lights moving above me caused me to moan out in pain. I saw my mom walking alongside the stretcher I was laying on. 

She looked down at me. “You're going to be okay, sweetheart.”

“Stiles-- where's Stiles?” I asked.

“They're on their way, honey. Don't worry.”

“Mom, you can't say anything about what you saw or what was said to you,” I said through the pain. “You can't--”

“All I saw was my daughter passed out on the floor of the animal clinic because some lunatic girl tried to kill her and everyone else that was around her,” Mom said. “You're going to be fine.”

I reached up and grabbed her left hand as she moved her right hand to my hair, stroking it. I looked up at her. “You can't tell anyone. You just can't.”

“Your father knows. You're going to be fine,” Mom said again.

~~~

THIRD PERSON POV

As Scott pushed the doors to the emergency room open, he and Liam made their way through the hallway fast, Scott asking, “Tracy was buried?” “In a hole,” Liam said. “Buried alive. Crawled out. Then we found another hole.” “Who was buried in that one?”

“I don't know, but I think we're gonna want to find out.”

They got into an elevator, Scott hitting the button for the floor they needed. Once the doors opened at their designated floor, they walked out and back down the hallway towards everyone else. Everyone else being; Stiles, Kira, Theo, Malia, Carter, Rose and Melissa.

“Stiles,” Melissa said. 

He turned to face her as she came walking towards him. “How bad is it?”

“Could've been worse,” she told him. “Theo, nice going on that tourniquet. You probably saved her life.”

“I give all the credit to Emma. She's the one who told me what to do,” Theo said.

Melissa turned around to face Scott and Liam. Stiles gave Theo a once over, still suspicious. Carter noticed and looked between the two, sensing that something was obviously going on.

“Alright. She's about to go into surgery,” Melissa said. “So it's gonna be a while. Any other supernatural details that I need to know about or do we just stitch her up and hope for the best?”

“It was the tail,” Kira said. Melissa whipped her head over her shoulder to look at Kira.

“Yeah,” Scott said. “Tracy cut her with the tail, if that makes a difference.”

“Okay,” Melissa said, taking in all this information. She walked away from the group, going back to the operating room.

“But it wasn't just Tracy. There were the others,” Malia said. She looked to Stiles, who was already looking at her. “The guys in the masks.”

~~~

FIRST PERSON POV

The only sounds in the operating room was the heart beat monitor and the doctors and nurses moving about.

“Okay,” Melissa said. I looked up at her and gave her a weak smile. I could see that she was smiling back a little under her mask. I could tell because her eyes were crinkled. “Can you do a little countdown for us, Emma? Starting with 10?”

I took in a breath. “Ten...” I started. I could already feel the anesthesia working. “Nine...” I heard clicking sounds to my right, so I looked. I saw one of the doctors standing at a table, but everything was distorted a little before I saw what looked like a steampunk doctor turn around and look at me. “Eight...” He turned back around, the clicking noise coming back as he moved. 

I turned my head back into a normal position, continuing my countdown, slowly. “Seven... six... five...” Another steampunk doctor came into view then disappeared. I looked up and saw a third steampunk doctor, but this one talked to me.

“Keep going,” the Surgeon said. 

“Four...” I counted before I went to sleep.

~~~

THIRD PERSON POV

Stiles went back home to shower and get right to work. He would go see Emma later when her mom would text him. Malia showed up, standing at his doorway.

“Need help?” she asked.

“No, I'm good. Thanks,” he replied. It came out a little cold, and he didn't intend for it to be that way. 

“I know I'm not Emma and can't help you like she can, but-- I wanna try.”

Stiles sighed. “It's not that. It's just--” He stopped himself, afraid of what he might say and how it'll come out.

Malia nodded her head. “Look, I know she’s trying to be civil... whatever that means, and I know that I probably shouldn’t have said that she should’ve stayed dead in the Vault.” She looked anywhere but at him before connecting her eyes with his face.

He wasn't looking at her.

“Look, I know I'm still a work in progress and I know I can be clingy--”

“That's not the word I would use.”

“Then what words would you use? Be honest with me.”

“You want me to be honest? Okay, how about this,” he said. “My girlfriend has been put in danger since your father bit Scott and tried to kill her just a couple months after. When we saved you, you decided to make me your anchor because both Scott and I helped you out with your shifts causing a drift between me and Emma. You literally don't listen to us when we say that there's a line that you can't cross and shouldn't cross, but you did anyway. It's not hard to tell that you like me, Malia, and I like you, too, but as a friend. I'm with Emma, I'll always be with Emma. Nothing's gonna change that.”

After listening to him be brutally honest, Malia nodded her head. “That's all I needed to hear. But just-- at least let me try and help you. I'm already here.”

Stiles rubbed his forehead, not ready to have a fight. “Sure. But just-- don't say anything. It's how Em and I work.”

“Noted,” Malia said. She walked around Stiles' crime board and sat down on the edge of his bed. She watched as he moved around the board, picking up his pencil and writing things on the board, writing something about the Masked Killer.

 She looked at Theo's name, not liking that it was up there. She moved her eyes up a little, seeing Who Is The Desert Wolf? up on the board. She stood up and walked over to his board, standing next to him for a moment before she picked up the eraser and moved to erase about her mother. 

Stiles watched as she did this, locking eyes with her for a moment. 

“I know I don't fully understand what it means to have boundaries, but I'm willing to learn. I won't show up unannounced again,” she said.

“Emma would just let us know anyway,” Stiles said.

Malia gave him a confused look.

He sighed. “It's part of her abilities.”

“What about Lydia?”

“Nah, she doesn't have that,” he explained. “Emma and Lydia are both Banshee's, but Emma's powers have more to them. With these added abilities, she's considered to be a were-banshee. Goes back in her family for generations. Somewhere along the way, one of her great grandmothers married a werewolf, and they ended up having a baby. Hence, were-banshee.”

Malia nodded like she knew what he was saying. “I don't get it.”

He lightly chuckled. “We didn't either until we sat down and wrote it out on paper. She understands things more when it's written on paper or if she reads it.”

“So that's how she knew about telling our bodies to heal?”

Stiles nodded. “Yep.”

Malia looked at the doorway, raising her brows. “She's pretty smart.”

“Yeah. One of the reasons why I'm in love with her.”

It was quiet for a moment before Malia spoke up again. “I'll find another anchor. How hard could it be?”

They shared a small chuckle before Malia walked out of Stiles' room.

~~~

Scott and Kira went back to his house. After they walked into the kitchen, Kira turned around and faced him. He grabbed her hand, looking down at her. She looked at him, both of them putting their foreheads together. They were both thankful that nothing major happened to either of them, but they were both still worried about Emma. 

She'd become a great friend to Kira, giving relationship advice and all.

Scott kissed Kira's forehead before connecting their lips in a sweet kiss.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Deaton said, walking into the kitchen from the front door. He set his bag on the table, and reached in, starting his grabbing jars from said bag.

“A werewolf with the talons of an eagle,” he began explaining. “It’s possibly a shapeshifter, known in Eastern mythology as a Garuda.” He placed that jar down before grabbing another. “Tracy's claws. The unmistakable claws of a werewolf.” He set that down and looked at Scott. “But--” he said, before grabbing another jar. “A werewolf who also bears the venom and scales of a Kanima.”

Kira picked up the jar with Tracy's claws, examining them. “What do you even call that?” 

“Personally, I call it terrifying,” Deaton said. “But at the moment, I'm more interested in how Tracy was able to get across the Mountain Ash.”

“I thought nothing supernatural can do that,” Kira wondered.

“As did I. So if Tracy was able to cross the Mountain Ash and no one supernatural can do that--”

“Tracy's not a supernatural,” Scott figured. 

“Exactly,” Deaton said. “If she wasn't born and she wasn't bitten, she had to have been made.”

“Made?” Kira asked.

“Someone is trying to make supernatural creatures with non-supernatural means,” Deaton explained. “And whoever they are, they're somehow managing to blur the lines between science and the supernatural.”

“But there's more,” Scott stammered. He continued at Deaton's look. “Liam said he found another hole out in the woods.”

“Burying them could be part of their process, a kind of incubation,” Deaton said. 

“What are we supposed to do?” Kira asked. 

“Same thing you've always done,” Deaton said. “Protect your friends. Protect each other.”

Deaton and Kira looked at Scott. “So, what about someone like Tracy?”

“I wish I could tell you,” Deaton said. “Hopefully, I'll have more answers soon. I'll be gone a few days.”

“You're leaving?” Scott asked, brows shooting to his hairline.

“Just a few days.”

“How scared should we be?” Kira asked.

Deaton looked down at the jars, picking one of them up. “I've lived in the world of the supernatural a long time. But I'm still a doctor. Still a man of science. Something like this happens, it rattles the foundation of everything you believe. Something like this shakes you to the core.”

“Something like what?” Scott asked.

“The rules... the rules have changed.”

~~~

FIRST PERSON POV

I woke to the sun shining in my face. I groaned and turned over on my back from my left side. Hearing the TV on, I sat up as best as I could, seeing the back of my favorite person's head and smiled.

“I thought I'd never see you again,” I said.

He turned his head over his shoulder, giving me a soft smile. “Hey, you.” He stood up from his spot in the chair at the foot of the bed, connecting our lips in a sweet kiss.

“What are you doing here? Other than to see me, of course,” I sassed.

“Nothing. Just seeing my favorite girl,” Stiles said. 

I started scooting over, giving him room to lay next to me. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and I rested my head on his shoulder, resting my hand on his stomach. “I've missed this,” I whispered.

“Felt weird not having you next to me last night,” he said, rubbing my upper arm.

I chuckled. “Same here.”

It was quiet for a minute before he spoke up again. “Parrish is gonna teach Lydia jiu-jitsu.”

“Really? Why?” I asked.

“After hearing about what happened to you, she wants to learn how to protect herself.”

I nodded with an impressed face. “Girl power. Right on.”

“Scott's at school--”

“As should you,” I said, tilting my head back some to look at him.

“Well, I couldn't leave my best girl hanging, now could I?” he said.

I smiled and put my head back down. “No.”

“She's right, though,” I heard Dad say. I watched as he closed the door behind him. “Seeing Em's important--”

“But school's more important,” I said. I looked up at him, seeing a look of protest on his face. “Babe, I'll be fine. Don't worry. If I see any steampunk doctors, you'll be the first person I call.”

“But I'm comfortable,” he said, wrapping his left arm around me. 

I groaned in pain a little, causing him to pull his arm back.

“It's time for her medicine, anyway. It knocks her out,” Dad said.

Stiles sighed and moved to get out of the bed. He put his face near mine, leaning on the bed. “I'll be back right after school. If anything changes, I'll let you know.”

“Go. I'll be fine. I'm a big girl. Keep me updated on everything.”

He chuckled. “I love you.”

“I love you,” I said.

He leaned forward and connected our lips in a quick but sweet kiss. He pulled back and walked to the door, Dad giving him a curt nod.

After Stiles walked out of the room and closed the door, Dad moved to the chair, pulling it more near me. “Now. Tell me everything that happened.”

~~~

THIRD PERSON POV

“If 99.9% of our DNA sequence is the same as other humans, what could account for the missing 0.1% difference?” Mrs. Finch asked her AP Bio class. “Theo?”

Theo looked up from his book, looking at his teacher before giving his answer. “Uhm, nucleotides.”

“That's right,” Mrs. Finch said. “Yes, Kira?”

“Can there be more than one species in the same DNA?” Kira asked.

Scott was looking at a little chart he made of all the supernatural creatures that they've encountered thus far in their Senior year.

“No, but there can be multiple sets of DNA in the same individual. We call that a Chimera. Anyone know where that term comes from? Sydney?”

“Greek mythology,” Sydney said, so sure of her answer. “It's a lion with a goat coming out of its back and tail that ends in the head of a snake.”

“That's right, Sydney,” Mrs. Finch said. “Do you want to read us the full Wikipedia entry off your phone? But that does get us into the next topic of mutation. As you know from the reading, DNA is a fragile molecule. Isn't it, Scott?”

Scott had just finished writing the word Chimera on his paper when Mrs. Finch called on him. He looked up at her, almost confused.

“Or did you miss last night's assigned reading?” she asked.

“Kind of,” Scott said.

“Kind of or yes?

“Mostly yes. Emma's in the hospital, so it kind of distracted me a little.”

“Well then, thank you for another helpful transition in topic. Drop forms,” Mrs. Finch said, moving to grab said forms. “All those now acutely aware that they do not belong in this class, you should fill one out.” She slammed a form in front of a girl, who wasn't afraid to look offended. She placed another form in front of a male student, offense written on his face. “The rest will be on my desk,” she said, walking back to her desk.

Everyone stood up from their stations, Scott and Kira packing their things away. Mrs. Finch watched as Scott walked up to the desk, looking at the drop forms. He looked up at her, seeing her eye him. He already knew what she was thinking, so he picked up a form.

~~~

Scott and Kira were in the library, sitting at a table doing school work. Stiles and Malia came running up the steps, a book in Malia’s hands, causing Scott's attention to go from his work to his best friend. 

“Did you get in to see Emma?” Scott asked.

“Yeah, she's still in the ICU and no one outside of family is allowed in. Her mom had to get all lawyer-y at the nurses and doctors to let me in,” Stiles said. “Right before I left she told me that everyone needs to keep her updated with everything.”

“Well, call her right now,” Scott said.

Stiles nodded and took his phone out of his pocket, dialing Emma's number, putting her on speaker.

“Miss me already, Stilinski?” Emma greeted.

“Always,” Kira said.

Emma chuckled on the other end of the phone as Stiles placed it on the table in front of the group.

“From what Stiles said, Emma didn't know a whole lot, but we got one thing,” Malia said, placing the Bestiary in book form on the table, opening it.

“Anything in here about half-werewolves, half-Kanimas?” Kira asked.

“Not from what I can remember, no. Allison read that book cover to cover and didn't say anything about it,” Emma said. “Well, not cover to cover since it wasn't in book form yet.”

“The Chimera,” Scott said.

“Uhm, what?” Stiles said at the same time Emma said, “Do what now?”

“Chimera,” Scott said, looking between the phone and Stiles, realizing that they didn't know what he was talking about. “We learned the term in Bio. It's a creature made of incongruous parts. And if Liam said he found two burial sites, it means Tracy's not the only one.”

“Who's the second Chimera?” Kira asked.

“Who's creating them?” Emma asked.

“And why would they bury them?” Stiles asked, looking at his best friend.

“Deaton thinks it's part of their process,” Scott said. 

“The people in masks,” Malia said.

It was quiet for a second around the table and the phone. No one knew what to say. Emma thought about the people she told Stiles about before her surgery.

“Guys, I gotta go,” Emma said.

“Why?” Kira asked.

“There's a kid hysterically screaming down the hall, and it’s a little bit distracting. Okay. Plan; Scott and Kira, get your asses down here to help investigate. I'm sure Melissa's gonna call one of you. Babe, Malia; you guys stay there and try to research as much as you can about this.”

“Alright,” Scott said.

“Just wait for your mom to call, Scotty. Don't need you getting yelled at because you and Kira decided to skip school.”

Scott chuckled. “Alright, Em. We'll try and come see you, too.”

“Sounds good. See you then. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand break!” With that, Emma hung up, leaving the four others to look at each other then share a chuckle at whatever that was with Emma.

~~~

At the hospital while Emma was on the phone with Stiles, Scott, Kira and Malia, she heard a kid screaming and quickly got off the phone. She tried to focus her hearing, but couldn't hear anything. 

Down the hall, Melissa and Dr. Geyer ran up to the stretcher the kid was on, trying to keep him calm.

“Can someone clue me in as to what's wrong with this kid?” Dr. Geyer asked.

Melissa looked from the kid's leg to his arm. “I'm pretty sure it's this.” She picked up his arm, showing what looked like a nasty burn, causing the kid to cry out more.

Not long after they got him into a room, Melissa called Scott. He was prepared since Emma figured this would happen. Scott texted Emma, letting her know that he and Kira were on their way. Once they got to the hospital, they hopped on the elevator, hitting the button for Level 2. 

“This way,” Melissa greeted the couple as soon as the doors opened. All three of them walked down the hall. “He came in about 45 minutes ago.”

They didn't get far from his room when the boy started screaming again. 

“Melissa,” Dr. Geyer said. 

“Yeah.”

“I'm gonna find an anesthesiologist covering acute pain. See what you can do.”

“Okay.” She stopped a few feet from his door, hearing his screams.

“Mom, what's happening to him?” Scott asked, slowly inching towards the door.

“It's the pain. Nothing's working. We've already pumped him full of morphine.”

“Can't they do anything to help him?” Kira asked.

“We can put him in a medically-induced coma,” Melissa said, looking at Kira. “It's how we help burn victims deal with the pain.” She shook her head before looking back towards the door and her son.

Scott looked at the door, brows laced with worry. “Let me see if I can help.” He walked in the door, the boys screaming getting louder.

Kira and Melissa walked in after, Melissa keeping a watch at the door while the boy continued to scream. 

They had put wrist and ankle restraints on him to keep him from hurting himself or others.

“His name is Corey,” Melissa said. “That's all we could get out of him.”

Scott and Kira looked at each other while Corey looked at Scott. 

“Please, make it stop,” he said through a round of pain. “Please make it stop.”

Scott wrapped his hands around Corey's, immediately taking away his pain, starting to groan with the pain he was feeling.

“Scott,” Kira said. Her and Melissa moved to either side of him. “Let go. Let go of him.” They grabbed Scott's arms, pulling him away from Corey, Scott gasping out. 

“I'm okay,” he said, after a few deep breaths. He looked towards Corey's arm that was now covered in bandages. “Let me see it. Let me see his arm.”

Melissa lifted Corey's arm, removing the restraint from his wrist. She pulled the bandage back, revealing that same nasty looking burn mark, only this time, it looked a lot worse; almost infected like.

“Holy--” Kira said.

“What is that?” Scott asked.

“The lab says scorpion venom,” Melissa said. 

“Scorpion?” Scott asked, shaking his head lightly like he didn't understand.

“I know. But that's not the weirdest part,” Melissa said, putting the bandage back and putting his arm back down. “Because a sting this bad means that he should've been dead 10 hours ago, and the scorpion that stung him would've been 10 feet tall.” She walked back over towards the door.

“Please tell me that doesn't mean there's a giant scorpion running around Beacon Hills,” Kira said, fear laced in her voice a little.

“Lucas,” Corey said, coming to from passing out. “It was Lucas.”

Scott moved up by Corey's head after a few seconds of silence. “Hey, Corey, what Lucas did to you, he's gonna do it to someone else, and it's gonna be much worse.”

“We need to know what happened,” Kira said.

“I don't really know,” Corey said. He started sitting up, Scott helping him. “He's never been like that before.”

“Like what?” Scott asked, trying to get to the bottom of it.

“Aggressive,” Corey said. It came out more like a question than a statement. He sighed. “We were taking it slow, but it wasn't me. He was the shy one. Then we're hanging out today and it's like he was a different person.”

Scott looked like he was trying to understand. “Like, different how?”

“Like, super confident. We were just kissing and then I felt this sharp sting on my arm and... and then I looked up at him and I swear his eyes turned black.”

“You mean totally black?” Kira asked, coming to stand next to Scott.

“The whole eye,” Corey said. “But it was only for a second. And then he said sorry, that he'll see me at the club tonight and then he just left. And then a few minutes later, I'm in the worst pain of my life.”

Kira took a few steps back while Corey was explaining. “Wait, hold on. You said club.” She took those extra steps back to Scott. “What club?”

“Every Friday night. Sinema.”

~~~

Scotty: We're gonna come see you tomorrow. Gotta head to Sinema to stop a possible Chimera from killing people. Call Stiles. See if he's still at the school.

Emma sighed as she read the text message from Scott, resting her head against the uncomfortable pillow the hospital provided.

“What is it, sweetheart?” Rose, Emma's mother, asked.

“Scott,” Emma said, throwing her phone on her lap. “Said him and Kira can't come by. Gotta save some people.”

Her mother was quiet for a few seconds before getting up from the chair provided and sitting on the edge of the bed. She rested her hand on her daughter's leg.

“And Stiles was supposed to come by for dinner, but he's obviously not here. Scott told me to call him to see if he's still at the school, which knowing Stiles, he probably got wrapped up in research or fell asleep. I swear that boy can sleep like a baby anywhere.”

Rose chuckled at Emma's rant, letting her daughter just speak what's on her mind. “Have you called Stiles?”

Emma looked at her mother before looking back to her phone and shaking her head. “No. But I'm going to.”

“I'm going to the vending machine for a dessert. Want anything?” Rose asked.

Emma thought for a moment before deciding on her favorite candy bar. “Hershey's Cookies and Creme bar.”

Rose patted her daughter's leg before getting up. “You got it.” She left the room, purse in hand.

Emma sighed as soon as the door was shut and looked at her phone. She picked it up and opened up her contacts after unlocking it. She dialed Stiles' number, putting the phone up to her ear. “You had better just gotten wrapped up in research.”

“Hey, this is Stiles... and you've missed me. Leave a message,” Stiles' voicemail greeted.

“Hey, babe. Just checking to see where you are. Scott said that you were still at the school, so I'm kind of hoping that's where you are. Uhm, I guess give me a call back or text me. Something's going on with my abilities, and I don't know what to say, do, or think.” She was quiet for a moment before remembering she has a time limit with leaving a voicemail. “Anyway, before this thing cuts me off, just be careful and let me know when you get home. I love you.”

She hung up the phone, wrapping her arms around herself. Tears gathered in her eyes, not knowing what's going on outside her hospital room walls... and wondering why the hell the hearing part of her abilities wasn't working.

~~~

Scott and Kira were walking to the back entrance of Sinema, talking about the information they'd just gotten from Corey.

“A kid turning into a half-scorpion, half-werewolf? Is there even a myth for that?” Kira asked.

“Sumerian,” Scott said. “Em's half-werewolf, half-Banshee.”

“Is there a myth for that?”

“Her bloodline. Somehow. Anyway, I remember something about it in the Bestiary. This scorpion-werewolf, not Em,” Scott said. He opened the back door, letting Kira step in first. 

Lady Luck wasn't on their side at the moment as an alarm rang through as soon Kira stepped over the threshold. They looked at each other before looking around for a second.

Kira took the buckle part of her belt off, tossing it at an old-fashioned alarm, successfully hitting it and cutting the sound.

Scott looked at her in amazement. “God, I love you,” he said before running inside the club itself, leaving a stunned Kira to stand for a few seconds.  

She walked in behind Scott, trying to explain what she was feeling at that moment. “You did it again. You did something that changed everything and you don't even realize you did it but you did.”

Scott stopped and looked at her, a little confused. “I did?” He heard roaring, turning his head in that direction, trying to figure out where exactly it was coming from. Hearing more roaring and fighting happening, he was able to follow the sound, Kira not far behind.

They pushed through a thing of hanging chains, seeing that Lucas was on top of Liam, who was trying to keep Lucas' claws away from him.

Liam looked over at his Alpha, shouting, “You're a little late!”

As Scott jumped into action, Kira took her belt off, which was actually her katana. 

Scott grabbed a hold of some scaffolding, kicking Lucas off of Liam. He tried to kick Lucas again, but Lucas grabbed his leg, pushing him to the ground.

Liam got up from his spot against the table, charging at Lucas to have another go. Lucas stopped that from happening by shoving Liam away with his foot. 

Lucas got into fighting ready stance while Kira twisted her sword a couple times before trying to attack Lucas.

Kira tried to hit Lucas with her sword, but he blocked every swing she made at him. She swung and seemed really happy about the result.

“What the hell is that thing?” Brett grunted against a wall.

Kira and Lucas were still going at it, trying to hit or slash the other to no avail. She tried stabbing him, but he moved out of the way, grabbing her wrist instead, twisting her arm back quickly before letting go. Kira twisted her sword, still trying to get Lucas, but he ducked under her sword, switching their positions. She kicked him and sent him flying against the chains. He stopped himself before he could land on the ground.

Lucas started running back towards Kira, but Liam jumped in his way, grabbing Lucas and slamming him against the ground. Lucas came out of his trance, everyone a little happy about it.

This wasn't the case for Kira, or rather the Fox. Her eyes glowed Orange as the Fox Fire surrounded her. She walked towards him, saying something in Japanese. She lifted her sword and was about to slash Lucas when Scott rushed to her, grabbing her wrist while calling her name.

She looked over at him, his look one of confusion. The Fox Fire vanished, leaving Kira also confused.

“Is everyone okay?” Scott asked after a few seconds. He looked at everyone, eyes landing on Lucas. “We need to get him out of here. Liam, give me a hand.”

Liam moved to Lucas' legs as Scott moved to his arms. They had just lifted him up when an arrow on a string shot through his heart. It was reeled back up, causing everyone to look at who or what caused the arrow.

What they saw were three figures, looking like something straight out of Steampunk.

“Why did you do that?” Scott asked.

“His condition was terminal,” the middle one, the Surgeon said. 

“What does that mean?”

The Surgeon and the other two turned around and started walking away. 

“What does that mean?” Scott asked, with a little more force.

The Surgeon turned back around. “Failure.”

Lights exploded as the Steampunk people vanished. 

~~~

Scott ended up taking Lucas' body to the hospital, specifically down to the morgue, Melissa meeting him down there. She got him set up on a pull out bed, keeping his door opened.

“I'm sure they'll come up with a reasonable explanation for the stingers in his arms,” Melissa said. “I guess it's better than trying to explain a tail.”

“Better than the truth?” Scott asked, looking at Lucas' body.

“Maybe,” Melissa said after a couple seconds. “This is the best that we can do for now.”

She pushed Lucas' body back in his slot, closing the door. Scott walked over towards the morgue door behind his mother.

“I should've done better. I-- I-- I should've known that this was going to happen,” Scott said. “I should've been able to stop it. Should've been able to keep Emma from getting hurt. She's always getting hurt,” he said the last part to himself, but Melissa caught it. 

“Emma's always getting hurt because she's doing right by you, Stiles and everyone else. But, your grandfather used to have a saying about the word should,” Melissa said, walking to stand in front of her son. “You know what you're doing when you say should too often? You're should-ing all over yourself.”

Scott chuckled lightly at the mention of his grandfather. 

“I know that I can't be the mom that says I don't want you to do anything about this,” Melissa said. “'Cause you're always gonna be involved because not only do you have the power to do something, you care enough to do it. Like Emma. She's always going to get hurt; physically or emotionally. So all you really need is to ask yourself, what am I gonna do?”

Scott looked around in front of him for a second, thinking about his answer. “I'm gonna find out who did this. And I'm gonna stop them. And I'm gonna keep my best friend, a girl who's like a sister to me, safe.”

Melissa nodded and turned around, walking out of the morgue, Scott not long to follow.

He went to visit Emma, but when he reached her room and looked at her through the window, he saw that she was fast asleep. He could just make out dried tears on her cheeks. He saw movement in the room and looked to see that her mom was gathering her things and walking over to Emma's side.

Rose looked up from smoothing her daughter's hair, looking at Scott through the window. She walked over and opened the door, stepping out before closing it behind her.

“Mrs. Thomas, I'm so sorry,” Scott said.

“It's not your fault, Scott. It's no one's fault,” Rose said. She looked from Scott to her daughter through the window. “You can sit with her, if you'd like. It's still family only.”

“But I'm not family. Neither is Stiles.”

Rose looked back at Scott, a smile on her face. “Who ever said you weren't? Scott, you two have been in her life since you were children. Granted, Stiles has known her a little longer due to mine and Carter's relationship with Noah and Claudia, but still. You two have been through every heartache, break up, school functions, supernatural adventures with her. You're more like family to us than any of her other friends. You're like a brother to her, Scott. Don't ever forget that.” Rose placed a hand on his cheek for a moment.

“It's awesome having a second mother figure around,” Scott chuckled. 

“I'm always here if you need me. Go inside and sit with her. Even if it's for five minutes.”

Scott nodded his head and walked into Emma's room after Rose walked away. He sat down in the chair provided, watching his best friend sleep.

“Don't worry, Em. Stiles and I are gonna keep you safe.”

~~~

“Hey, babe. Just checking to see where you are. Scott said that you were still at the school, so I'm kind of hoping that's where you are. Uhm, I guess give me a call back or text me.  Something's going on with my abilities, and I don't know what to say, do, or think. Anyway, before this thing cuts me off, just be careful and let me know when you get home. I love you.”

Stiles sighed as he listened to Emma's voicemail. He heard the slight disappointment in her voice. He was frustrated with himself for not waking up two hours beforehand to go have dinner with her and Rose. He pocketed his phone and climbed in his Jeep, turning the key in the ignition. The Jeep didn't start, again, so he grabbed his trusty wrench and got out of the Jeep. 

He opened the hood and smoke welcomed him, causing him to cough as to not inhale the smoke. He walked from the driver's side to the passenger side, reaching his hand inside. He pulled back with a hiss from the excessive heat the engine was giving off.

“Why would you touch that if it's extremely hot, you oinker?” He could hear his girlfriend say. He lightly chuckled to himself as he unrolled a bit of the duct tape he also grabbed from his Jeep, placing it over the duct tape that's already there. 

He was thinking about Emma and trying to fix his Jeep that he didn't hear footsteps coming up behind him. He felt a hand on his shoulder then a searing pain not long after, causing him to scream out in pain.

~~~

Emma sat up in her hospital bed, effectively waking up Scott, who fell asleep. She started panting as she looked at the wall in front of her. Placing her hands on her head, she squeezed her eyes shut tight, not wanting to scream. It wasn't just a normal scream; it was that scream. A scream that no Banshee wants to scream.

“Em, what is it?” Scott asked.

“Gotta scream, but don't want to,” she said through gritted teeth.

Scott got up and rushed over to her side. “Scream into my hand, okay?” Emma nodded, prepared to break Scott's heart and her very own.

Scott placed his hand over her mouth, but leaving enough room for her lips to move, her own hands covering his to help muffle the sound.

She looked up at Scott with tear-filled eyes. He nodded at her, eyes and brows laced with concern. She took a deep breath and screamed.

“STILES!!!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N 2: hi, friends! okay, so, the gif isn’t what i wanted, but ya’know; beggars can’t be choosers. let me know what you thought! again, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox.

~~~

Forever / Everything Taglist: @stiles-o-dylan24​​​​​ @stixnstripesworld​​​​​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​​​​​ @quanticobae​​​​​ @mischiefandi​​​​​ @kellyashcroft​​​​​ @lauren-novak​​​​​

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If you want to be added to the YABMH Taglist, just click here. If you’re tagged and didn’t want to be, please let me know. Tumblr’s trying to tag people for me, lol.

Italics wouldn’t let me tag 🥺

~~~

*Please don’t post my writing anywhere else without my consent. The author of this work will always and forever be @harringtonstilinski.

All characters, story lines, and plot aside from Emma and her storyline & plot, are all of the work of Jeff Davis. Our home slice Emma was made up all by me. As well we her parents and their storyline throughout the series.

*These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited.

No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

Posted on December 6, 2021

#stiles stilinski x emma thomas #stiles x oc #stiles stilinski x oc #stiles stilinski #emma grace thomas #stemma #you'll always be my hero #yabmh #scott mccall #lydia martin #sheriff stilinski #melissa mccall #kira yukimura #malia tate #theo raeken #the dread doctors #dr valack #season 5 episode 4 #original character #home slice emma was all me #teen wolf imagine #stiles stilinski imagine #stiles imagine #dylan o'brien #dylan o'brien imagine #dylan o'brien x oc #dylan x oc #teen wolf fanfiction #stiles stilinski fanfiction #stiles stilinski fanfic

[mystical-flute]

Summer Heat, Boy and Girl Meet (SFWeek Day 2)

Tallahassee AU or Summer Love

AO3 || FFN

@mysteryandnonstopfun

Get a job at Camp Sherwood, her father said. It would be fun, he said.

Emma Nolan was not having fun.

In fact, she wasn’t sure she was going to make it to the end of the month without landing in jail for attempted murder. Or, if things continued to get even worse, actual murder.

The source of her ire?

Neal Gold, the counselor of Cabin 4, and his merry band of lost boys who loved to cause trouble to the girls of her cabin, Cabin 8.

The problem had started on the third day of camp. The kids had started settling in and getting used to the routine, and Emma had become more confident in her abilities as a camp leader.

Neal Gold had noticed this, and had planned a spontaneous water fight between their cabins, ambushing the girls on their way back from canoeing. That was fine, lighthearted enough, and it had been a hot, humid day, so the extra water had, admittedly, felt good.

But then it had all gone downhill.

Shaving cream had been next, as the girls had been coming back to their cabins from an arts and crafts lesson. Luckily (in Emma’s opinion), they’d had to leave their crafts to dry, and nothing had been broken.

The third was scaring her campers when they’d had a late-night bonfire. Emma had planned it perfectly - s’mores, campfire songs, the works. And then Neal and his stupid campers had decided to jump out of the bushes just as they’d started telling scary stories. The boys had somehow constructed a monster costume and had jumped out of the bushes. If the kids hadn’t already been aware of Emma’s sour attitude toward Neal Gold, it would have looked like it’d been coordinated by the two counselors.

The worst prank had been when they’d returned to their cabin from a hike through the forest. It had been so nice to learn about the local wildlife and plant life, that for the afternoon, Emma had nearly forgotten about the trouble she’d been having.

Then they’d made it back to their cabin to find all of their belongings tossed onto the roof, including Emma’s mattress.

Despite her complaints to Director Sherwood, nothing had been done. The pranks had been waved off as harmless summer fun, which meant Emma had only one other option: revenge.

She’d started slowly: releasing a harmless, wild garter snake into the cabin (“Goodness, Gold, you guys should learn to shut your cabin door!”), greasing the entryway so many of them slipped on their way in after their movie night.

Then, he’d caught on to what she was doing.

He’d confronted her about the pranks, she had snapped back at him, and somehow (both of them swore up and down they hadn’t done it), a syrup-drenched piece of french toast from that morning’s breakfast had flown through the air and landed on Director Sherwood’s wife, Regina.

It had all gone wrong from there, a full-blown foodfight exploding in a second. It hadn’t lasted long, but Director Sherwood had known immediately who was likely at fault (even though she and Neal absolutely weren’t), and had forced the two of them to clean the mess hall alone, while he took their cabins out to the zipline and rock wall.

“I can’t believe I got stuck cleaning this with you,” Neal scowled, flicking a piece of bacon at her.

“Hey! I didn’t want to do this either, but you’re the one who’s been pranking my kids all month!” she retorted, scraping drying maple syrup off one of the tables with a groan. “I just wanted to be a good counselor and give the kids a fun summer, but you had to go around disrupting us all the time!”

“You think I didn’t want to do the same? Be a good counselor and have a little fun with the kids in my cabin? Isn’t that why we’re all here?”

Emma tossed a dirty rag into a bucket of equally-disgusting water. “Do you get off on scaring little girls? Alice had to sleep with me the night you dressed up as a knockoff Frankenstein, and we had to look for Ella’s lucky blanket for three hours after you put our stuff on the roof!”

Neal went unusually quiet as he processed her words. “Oh. Emma, I’m - ”

“Sure. You’re ‘sorry’, you promise you’re done, but then the minute I walk out of here, you’re going to be plotting something else,” she scoffed.

“No - I mean it,” Neal threw a sponge down and raised his hands in a show of surrender. “I didn’t know I’d scared any of your kids. Why didn’t you say anything?”

Emma scowled. “I did! Director Sherwood didn’t do anything.”

“Why didn’t you say anything to me?”

“Was I supposed to believe you’d listen, after everything that’s happened this month?”

A pause. “Fair point. I’m calling a truce. No more pranks.”

She looked him up and down, trying to find the catch, or to find the lie. She had always been good at it - her father had once told her she was made for detective work.

But she couldn’t find any with Neal, so she sighed, holding out her hand. “Fine. Truce.”

“C’mon, let’s finish this up. If we’re lucky, we might be able to ride the zipline once.”

“Yeah, okay. Sounds like fun.”

Emma’s shoulders ached, from the amount of force used to scrub the mess hall, but by the time they’d finished, they had missed out on the zipline, and the kids were busy practicing their skits for that night’s talent show. They’d missed the pizza that had been called in for lunch, too.

She groaned, rubbing her eyes. “Now what do we do?”

“You hungry?”

“Well, yeah, but - ”

Neal smiled and pulled two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches out of his pocket.

“Neal!”

“What, did they expect we’d eat wild berries and dirt for lunch? Come on, let’s go sit by the lake. We’ll be able to hear when the rehearsal ends.”

He was becoming a terrible influence, but Emma saw no other option as she followed him, plopping down on a rock and nibbling at the crust of her sandwich.

“Where you from, Emma?” he asked.

“Oh, it’s this little town about two hours from here. I doubt you’ve heard of it.”

“Try me.”

“It’s called Storybrooke.”

Neal choked on the bit of sandwich in his mouth, taking a long drink of water. “No shit? My stepdad is from there.”

She stared at him. What were the odds of that? “What’s his name?”

“Jerkass. Dickwad. Motherfu - oh, sorry, you meant his real name. Killian Jones.”

“Any relation to Adam Jones?”

“Think that’s his twin brother. Why?”

“He’s one of the deputies that work under my dad.”

“He’s a cop?!” Neal laughed, doubling over and wiping a tear from his eye. “Could you send him to NYC? I’m pretty sure my stepdad is some sort of thief. Or worse. Mom keeps getting some really fancy shit and then, wouldn’t you know it, the news comes on with a store being robbed.”

Emma frowned. “Jeez, Neal. You don’t have to live with him, right?”

“Nah. Dad has custody. I live with him most of the time.”

“That’s good at least.”

“Yeah, he and Belle are fine.”

They settled into a comfortable conversation then, and Emma found that underneath all the stupid pranks, Neal Gold wasn’t too bad. And he was, well… kind of cute.

Not that she’d ever tell him that.

“GOLD! NOLAN! I hope you two aren’t slacking off!” Director Sherwood suddenly yelled.

The two jumped up.

“Sorry, Director!” Emma called. “See you later, Gold.”

“See ya, Nolan.”

The rest of the month went smoothly, much to Emma’s relief. The girls had come to enjoy themselves, and she’d made a new friend with Neal.

As she lifted her duffel bag onto her shoulder the last day of camp, she frowned as something hit the ground.

A peanut butter label? How had the label to a jar of peanut butter ended up in her bag?

She carefully unfolded it, feeling her eyes widen as she took in the note scribbled on the back.

Call me if you’re ever in the city. - Neal

#sfweek2021 #swanfire #emma swan #neal cassidy #ouat

[cacophony-of-notions]

My feelings on a common misconception interpretation of Sam in “Slice Girls”: 

TL;DR Sam did not kill Emma as “revenge” and Dean was not ethically inconsistent in his actions with Emma versus Amy.

I have seen many times people claim that Sam killed Emma as “revenge” for Amy. I have seen both his antis and his hardcore stans say this (the latter as a means of “justifying” a decision Sam made that they traditionally wouldn’t stand behind… regardless of the fact that killing a kid to get revenge on his brother would paint him in a far worse light than taking the situation at face-value). 

In the same way that Dean killed Amy because he legitimately thought it was the right call, Sam killed Emma because he legitimately thought it was the right call. That’s it. Hate both of their decisions, agree with one but not the other, agree with neither… no matter what, I don’t think wanting “revenge” and taking that out on a child had anything to do with Sam’s actions. There are a few reasons why.

First, looking at the context of the season as a whole, Sam has been worried about Dean’s mental state for most of the season in much the same way that Dean has been worried about his, and accordingly, they didn't trust each other’s judgment fully. 

Dean killing Amy was to some extent, about not trusting Sam’s judgement due to his attachment to Amy and the metal state Sam had been in that season. Sam had been hallucinating and had also lied about it. So on top of not being sure if Sam could accurately grasp reality at any given time, him hiding it also made it very difficult for Dean to trust Sam to be honest if he was hallucinating, needed help, or needed to take a step back.

Sam’s decision to kill Emma was, likewise, to some extent, about not trusting Dean’s judgement due to his natural attachment to Emma as a father and Dean’s mental state that season. We see, on several occasions in season 7, Sam noting that Dean is drinking more alcohol than usual (which is saying something). Several times in the season, Sam expresses concern over this, to Bobby as well as to Dean directly. Sam’s lack of confidence in Dean is actually enough that, when Dean begins to notice things moving from where he left them and starts to suspect that Bobby is haunting them, Sam repeatedly and flippantly dismisses his observations and chalks all of it up to Dean drinking too much and grieving too hard and being an unreliable witness. 

Second, Sam and Dean came to an understanding about Amy in “The Mentalist”, and Sam ended up saying at the end of the episode that Dean’s actions made sense, and that he was right that Sam’s judgement couldn’t be trusted because he was too close to the situation emotionally. 

Season 7’s “The Mentalist” covers the confrontation between Sam and Dean over Amy, and Sam’s decision to work side by side with Dean again. There are two scenes—the initial blow up from Sam and Dean’s rebuttal, and then the resolution at the end of the episode. 

First the initial blow up and Dean’s rebuttal: 

Dean: We agreed to work the case. We didn’t agree for you to be a dick the whole time. 

Sam: What?

Dean: You’re pissed. Okay? And you’ve got a right. 

Sam: Yeah, damn straight. 

Dean: But enough’s enough. 

Sam: Says who? Look, I’ll work this damn case, but you lied to me, and you killed my friend. 

Dean:  No, I put down a monster who killed four people, and if you didn’t know her, you’d have done the same thing. 

Sam: I did know her, Dean.

Dean: Yeah, which is why you couldn’t do it. Look, I get it. There are certain people in this world, no matter how dangerous they are, you just can’t. 

Sam: Don’t pull that card! That’s bull! Look, if I’ve learned one thing, it’s that if something feels wrong, it probably is!

Dean: Usually, yeah. But killing Amy was not wrong. You couldn’t do it, so I did. That’s what family does—the dirty work. And I would have told you eventually, once I knew that this whole “waving a gun at Satan” thing was a one-time show. I think it’s reasonable to want to know that you’re off the friggin’ high dive, Sam. You almost got us both killed. So you can be pissed all you want, but quite being a bitch. 

Then there was the resolution at the end of the episode: 

Sam: Look, you know what... you were right—about Amy. If she was just any monster, I’m not sure I could have let her walk away. I dunno. I mean, I’ll never know. 

Dean: What are you saying?

Sam: What I’m saying is… I get why you did it. You were just trying to make sure no one else got hurt. But here’s the thing: you can’t just look me in the face and tell me you’re fine. I mean, you’re not sleeping, you drink for the record-

Dean: Oh here we go…

Sam: Look, whatever. Last one to preach. I know. But… just be honest with me. How are those the actions of someone who knows they did the right thing?

Dean: You want me to be honest?

Sam: Yeah.

Dean: I went with my gut. And that felt right. I didn’t trust her, Sam. Of course, ever since Cas, I’m having trouble trusting anybody. And as far as how I’ve been acting… I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I don’t like lying to you. You know, it doesn’t feel right. So yeah, you got me there. I’ve been climbing the walls. 

Third, in context, when Sam brings up Amy in the car, it is to say Dean choked with Emma in the same way that Sam choked with Amy and it could have gotten him killed—not that killing Emma was somehow vengeance for Amy. See the conversation at the end of “Slice Girls”:

Sam: What did you say to me... when I was the one who choked? What did you say about Amy? “You said you kill the monster”!

Dean: I was going to!

Sam: Oh, like hell you were! You think I’m an idiot? 

Dean: What you think I am?!

Sam: Dean, you were gonna let her walk! 

Dean: No I wasn’t. That’s ridiculous! 

Sam: Look, man, she was not yours. Not really. 

Dean: Actually, she, uh, she was, really. She just also happened to be a crazy man-killing monster. But uh, hey-

Sam: You know what? Bobby was right. Your head’s not in it, man. When Cas died, you were wobbly, but now... 

Dean: Now what? Oh what, you’re dealing with it so perfect? Yeah, news flash, pal. You’re just as screwed up as I am! You’re just... bigger. 

Sam: What?!

Dean: I don't know!

Sam: Look... Dean, the thing is, tonight... it almost got you killed. Now, I don’t care how you deal. I really, really don’t. But just don’t...  don’t get killed. 

In no way does Sam suggest here that Dean “deserved” to have his kid shot in front of him as some kind of “payback”. In fact, that doesn't really make sense 

In the context of the conversation in “The Mentalist, where Sam said he understood why Dean felt the way he did about Amy. 

It also doesn’t make sense in the context fo Sam’s comment that Emma “wasn’t really yours”. If he did it to hurt Dean, he would have pressed into that relationship, not dismissed it. 

He lectured Dean because he was scared Dean wouldn't have been able to pull the trigger and would have gotten himself killed. It’s the same “are you off the high-dive?” lecture Dean gave him, it’s the same “I did the dirty work for you because you couldn’t”. The shot Sam took wasn’t hesitant, but it also wasn’t emotional. It was calculated and ruthless. It was a choice Sam made, that Emma could not be trusted. He made that call. And maybe he was right—maybe the brainwashing went too deep, and Emma would have come after Dean again if they let her go (which is probably what Sam was really worried about—that she would have gone after Dean again and gotten the drop on him or he wouldn’t have shot her), or maybe she would have come after someone else. Maybe Sam was wrong, and Emma could have been persuaded away from life in a cult. We can say the same about Dean killing Amy. All they had was her word that she wouldn't kill again. And yet, if her son got sick again, it seems reasonable to assume she’d go on another killing spree. Maybe Dean was right to kill her, maybe he was wrong.

Other notes: 

[1] Sam misses a certain detail when he compares Dean’s actions with Emma to his own situation with Amy. Sam only compares the two situation by virtue of him or Dean choking due to an attachment to the “monster” in question. However, there’s a distinction between the two kills that is important within Dean’s personal ethical framework, while it’s not necessarily important within Sam’s... to the point that Sam doesn't really see this distinction at all (in fact, he may not know about it). Namely, Emma had never killed anyone before while Amy had killed four people. Dean’s actions in both situations are actually ethically consistent—which is another misconception in fandom. From Dean’s framework, Emma and Amy are not the same. Emma and Amy’s son are the same. We see the distinction Dean draws between Amy and her son in “The Girl Next Door”: Dean kills Amy but lets her son go because he’s never killed anyone. He doesn’t rescind that even after Amy’s son tells Dean he’s going to come after him eventually and kill him. Dean treats Emma in the exact same way. He tells her he would let her walk away because she’s never killed anyone, and he doesn’t rescind the offer even if it seems like she still might try to come after him again. This is also consistent with how Dean treated Bobby John in Season 6 “Two and a Half Men”, Jack in Season 4 “Metamorphosis”, and Madison in Season 2 “Heart”. 

[2] When he kills Amy, Dean is notedly dealing with trust issues that he himself acknowledges, after what happened with Cas. He trusted Cas implicitly even when Bobby and Sam doubted him, and he got burned, and it shook his ability to trust in anyone (see Sam’s “wobbly” talk above”). Killing Amy is a part of that, according to Dean’s own perceptions. 

[3] To a certain extent, it might even be said that Sam and Dean aren't just wary of trusting each other’s judgement, but also wary of trusting themselves. For example, “You kill the monster” is a hardline stance that’s unusual for Sam and that is rejected by both brothers as early as Season 2 “Bloodlust”. But because Sam doesn’t trust himself at that point in time, and also does not trust Dean’s judgement either, he does what he thinks is “safe” when his own mind is half shredded and he has a depressed and alcoholic brother who he’s afraid is going to let a monster kid murder him one day (be it Emma or Amy’s son). If he were to let Emma go and worse came to worse, Sam doesn’t feel he can rely on Dean to defend himself from her, and he doesn’t know what his own mind state is going to be like in the future. So he does what’s “safe” for them both. In the same way, Dean’s actions with Amy could be viewed as him choosing what’s “safe”.

#dean winchester #sam winchester #spn 7.03 #spn 7.07 #spn 7.13 #the slice girls #the mentalist #the girl next door #fandom misconceptions

[let-it-raines]

Black Velvet (Part Two)

1919. The War is over, but life is far from normal. While the imminent danger is gone for many, it is not gone for Emma Swan. Her secrets have always been dangerous and had the ability to control her, but they have never been more dangerous than now as she is forced to work undercover as a barmaid and keep her true intentions hidden from the most notorious gang leader in England.

Her life depends on it, but unfortunately for Emma, Killian Jones can read her better than anyone ever has.

Rating: Mature

a/n: I know, I know, we thought my days of you guys convincing me to continue one-shots were over 😉 In all seriousness, I did not intend to do this and wasn’t going to, but my mind started working and here we are. 

We pick up with our favorite duo (and Lee, lol) on their journey to America! Thanks to @shireness-says and @resident-of-storybrooke​ for helping me out a little on this🖤

Ao3: Part One | Part Two

Tumblr: Part One

-/-

1920.

Emma has never hated the sea more.

When she was a child, it was her favorite place in the world. The insides of orphanages and homes were dull with broken furniture and scratchy blankets, and when she could get away, she would try to find the ocean. There was a rare time in her life where she lived near the shore, and every day she breathed in the salt air and looked out onto the water with the hope that more was out there and with the hope that she wouldn’t always be so alone.

The sea was her safe haven.

Now it is her enemy.

One of many, if she’s honest. Her childhood dreams have become her waking nightmare. She’s spent fifteen days on the ocean on her way to a new country, but all she wants is to be back in England in the comfort of her bed in her grungy little flat she thought she hated. Every day feels a little closer to her last, like Gold is on her heels, a gun pressed to her temple.

Her thoughts have run wild with fear. What if he was fast enough and followed them? What if he’s on the next ship to America? What if he’s found William or Rob and hurt them?

What if he’s found her son and hurt him?

She doesn’t keep up with him, knowing that each bit of information about him breaks her a little more. She wasn’t ready to be a mother, still isn’t, and it isn’t fair to the kid for her to check up on him. She gave him up for him to have his best chance, for him to have a good life, and from what she’s seen, he’s had that.

Emma is terrified that her running away is going to strip that good life away from him, and she should have thought more about that before she allowed Killian to pay for their passage on this ship. Hopefully his parents have enough protections that everything will be fine, but she knows that just because they work in the government with Gold doesn’t mean he’s safe.

Gold will obviously betray anyone, but she hopes he has limits when it comes to a child.

Her stomach turns as they move over a rough patch of ocean, and she wraps her hands around the railings as another breeze washes over her. Her nose is red with chill, her toes curling under themselves in her boots, and suddenly the temperature warms, a solid body closing in on hers, an arm wrapping around her shoulder and pulling her closer as unshaven whiskers prickle against her temple.

“You’ll be nothing but an icicle if you stay out here, love,” Killian tells her as the ocean roars around them.

“And why would you care about that?” Emma bristles.

He sighs. “Please come back to the cabin.”

Emma pulls away from Killian, gooseflesh bubbling up her arms and a shiver wrapping around her spine. She doesn’t feel like having him near her or going back to the cabin. Escaping closeness to Killian is the reason she left the warmth of the cabin to begin with. “I don’t want to come back to the cabin.”

“You are going to freeze.”

“It is a hell of a lot warmer out here than it is in there.”

“You speak in falsities.”

She does, but she won’t admit that.

Emma cocks her head and rolls her eyes before looking at the ocean again. According to the Captain and several crew members, they should be in New York either tonight or tomorrow morning, and Emma cannot wait to step foot on dry land again. She doesn’t know what their plans are for when they get there, but she knows that even if she doesn’t stay with Killian, she has enough money to get her lodgings and food for at least a few months. She hopes that she’ll be back in England by then. Or another country in Europe.

“I don’t.”

Killian’s lips press into a firm line, and the lines on his forehead appear. She’s seen that look more than she would care for, and she doesn’t care to see it now. “Swan.”

“No. I don’t want to go back to the fucking cabin, Killian. I’ve been in there for two weeks with you and Lee, and I’m sick of it. I’m sick of having to listen to Lee complain, and I’m exhausted from having to figure out when you’re going to ignore me or not. I sleep with your chest pressed to my back every night, and I’ve never felt so alone.”

“What exactly is it that you want from me?”

Emma throws her hands up in the air as they hit another rough wave and Emma’s stomach churns. This fucking ship.  “I want you to make up your mind, Killian. Do you want to kill me for betraying you? Do you want to fuck me? Do you want both? Because I don’t know, and I need to know what I’m dealing with. Because if I’m going to die, do it now so I don’t have to suffer on this ship any longer.”

He takes a step back and crosses his arms over his chest, his coat shifting with the movement. Emma watches as his hair blows in the wind, long black strands whipping together then apart. He hasn’t shaved for these two weeks, his skin is paler, and there are purple bags underneath his eyes. Even with the striking blue, his eyes are tired, sad, and Emma likes to convince herself that he is just as confused and affected by everything like she is. He has to be, but then again, Emma has never known Killian to be unsure of anything.

His power is in his sureness. His steadiness.

It is all rocking beneath their feet.

“For fuck’s sake, I’m not going to kill you. That has never been in question.”

“Then what do you want?”

“Bloody hell! I don’t know, Swan! You cannot expect me to have everything between us figured out in a fortnight when I’m aware of the fact that I’ve known you since June and yet all of it has been a lie.”

“It hasn’t all been a lie.”

“What hasn’t been?” he counters, his voice still raised, and she notices the crowd around them turning their heads to look. Their conversation has piqued the interest of the ship, and Emma doesn’t want that. She cannot have this conversation with people watching, listening, judging her. “I need to know because I cannot be a fool who is brought down by giving my trust and my heart to someone who hasn’t bothered to do the same.”

“What you mean to say is you cannot be a fool who is brought down by a woman.”

Killian scoffs and steps toward her, pressing his hand into the small of her back. It’s a feather of a touch beneath her layers of clothes, but she can still feel it, warmth permeating through. “Let’s go back to our cabin.”

“Is Lee there?”

“No.”

Emma nods and begins walking through the crowd until they come across the staircase that leads them below deck and to their cabin. They’re in the middle of the hall, and she has to kick the door open until she’s in the small space that has nothing more than two small beds and a dresser that is bolted into the floor. There were more luxurious rooms as well as ones without privacy, but Killian didn’t want to waste money when they don’t have much of a plan for what to do when they arrive in New York. Well, he might have a plan. Before they left he managed to send a letter to Liam as well as making several phone calls, but Emma wasn’t privy to any of that information. She was still trying to wrap her head around the previous twenty-four hours of her life.

The door clicks closed behind them, and Emma settles down on Lee’s bed while Killian sits opposite her on their bed, his knees hitting hers. In reality, it’s much warmer down here, and the shivers that were taking over her begin to dissipate.

Emma loves this man sitting across from her. She loves the blue of his eyes, the quirk of his smile, the scars lining his skin. She loves the way his mouth feels when it’s on her, the way he feels inside of her. She loves the way he tells a story, the way he makes her laugh until her stomach hurts, and the way that despite their history, he makes her comfortable for the first time in her life.

No part of her is comfortable right now.

Sucking in a deep breath of air, Emma looks up from her twiddling fingers and to an expectant Killian. She doesn’t know what he wants from her or what she can give him, so she begins with the basics, the history that is unchanged no matter how much she wishes to change it. “I was born in Brighton. I don’t know of my parents. I was raised in homes until I left to be on my own at sixteen. That’s when I became pregnant, and everything after that has been me working for Gold. He gave me my education out of necessity for the job, and everything I own has been his doing. A part of me sometimes feels like everything I am is his doing.” Emma shrugs and clasps her hands together. “I can’t think of any specific lie I’ve told you. I have learned it’s easier to keep track of things if I only tell the truth, even if it means cutting some details short. The only lie was my intentions and why I walked into My Fairest Lady.”

“How old are you now?” Killian asks.

“I turned twenty-four in October.”

He hums and leans back, closing his eyes so his dark lashes fall against his cheeks. “So Gold has had you under his thumb for eight years then?”

“Yes.”

“He’s a coward of a man,” Killian growls, but his eyes stay closed. “His wife, my Milah, was tired of the way he paid her no attention. She wanted out of the marriage. She wanted…she wanted to do many things with her life, but he wouldn’t let her leave. When she did, he murdered her in front of me and then set the building on fire. I nearly lost my hand trying to save her. I’ve never understood why he went away after that, why he was waiting to catch me in an illegal act. He could have pulled the trigger at any moment, but he didn’t.”

“Do you have an idea as to why?”

One eye opens, and his foot hooks around her ankle. “I think he believed that living on the edge of fear would be a greater torture than instant death, but I fear neither him nor death. He should fear me for what I’m going to do when I see him again.”

The venom in Killian’s voice has Emma’s shivers return. This is a man set out for vengeance, a man who wants to take a life, and as much as she would like to do the same for all Gold has done to her, she doesn’t know if she can.

Emma has feared death for years, and all she wants is to live without shackles holding her down.

“How do you despise Gold but love me?” Emma asks. “I worked for him. I could have been the reason you were murdered.”

“You had no choice, love.” He leans forward, invading her space, and his breath comes up in a white puff of air between them. She can smell the rum he must have had earlier. “I never once thought I would love again after Milah. My heart was black, and there was no room for that sort of thing, especially after the War. My only job in life is to keep the Jones Corporation alive and make sure it continues when I’m gone, but then you walked into the pub and sang as you poured a drink for Leroy. Something shifted inside of me then. I cannot give you my full trust, love. Not yet. And I cannot guarantee that there will be no strife between us because I am still trying to figure what the hell is going on in my mind, but I would like to imagine there is a world where you and I can have the simple pleasures in life.”

He leans back and laughs, clicking his tongue. “Well, at least on occasion. I don’t think you and I are set for a life with a white picket fence and nothing to worry us.”

“I’d like that,” Emma smiles, “I think. It’d be nice not to worry.”

Killian leans forward and reaches his hand out. She takes it and is pulled into him, settling her knees on either side of his hips and she settles in his lap. His lips ghost over the bare skin of her neck, his hand tugging away her scarf until there’s more skin for him to devour, and Emma lets him. She does not know what is between them or what will come next, but for now, she can forget about all of that.

She hasn’t felt good like that for two weeks, and the chill that’s been constant on her skin has been both from the ocean and from Killian, his shoulder turned to her even when he’s pressed against her.

“Swan,” he whispers, almost reverent, as her hands reach underneath his coat and start to take it off. “What are you doing?”

“Do you have to fully trust me for us to do this?”

His breath is warm against her, his teeth sharp with her skin, but his nose is soft as it presses into the hollow of her throat to speak. “No.” He helps her push his coat off, and now she can feel the muscles in his back. “You don’t have to fully trust me either, love, but one day, we’ll do this with no barriers between us.”

Emma’s nails scratch against his skin. “What a glorious day that will be.”

Killian kisses her until she’s dizzy, touches her until she’s breathless, and he moves inside of her until she’s fully warm, sweat beading at her temples and the small of her back. Killian’s weight above her is a comfort, his hand on her thigh is a guide, urging her to lift it higher so he can sink deeper, and his voice is a melody of a song that is familiar but the lyrics are floating away, so close, but far enough away for her to not be able to reach.

She doesn’t care.

Not when she finally might have someone who could want to be hers.

“Oi, did you see what they’re serving in the dining hall?” Lee groans as he pushes his way into the room with little preamble. “It’s nothing more than stale bread. I – oh, fuck off,” he mumbles as Killian shifts over Emma to cover her and pulls the sheets over his arse. He chuckles into her neck, and Emma presses her lips to his cheek. “I have to share this cabin with the two of you. Have a little compassion.”

“Lee, go back to the fucking dining hall and get us some bread,” Killian mumbles, pulling away from her neck and winking.

“Did you not hear me when I said it was stale?”

“Are you so obtuse that you do not realize that the lady and I need our privacy?”

“I expect my own room whenever we get to New York.”

“You’ll be lucky if I don’t leave you on the streets. Now go.”

Lee curses underneath his breath, but he quickly leaves the room, the cabin door clicking behind him. Killian’s jaw clenches, and Emma reaches up to caress it, her fingers dancing along his skin, coaxing him back to her.

“Would you really leave your brother in the streets in a foreign country?”

“Eh,” Killian clicks his tongue, “possibly. He has a few lessons he needs to learn.”

Emma sighs and closes her eyes before pressing her lips to the underside of his jaw. “Promise me you won’t leave Lee on the streets…unless he insults me because I’m a woman again. Then he can spend some time away from us.”

“That is a promise I can make,” Killian chuckles.

-/-

When they step on dry land the next day, Emma’s legs nearly crumble beneath her. America is a foreign land, and while the soil should feel the same as England, it doesn’t.

She doesn’t know how it feels or what to feel, and Emma doesn’t fully process everything that happens once they leave the ship. She fills out papers, careful only to give as much information as is necessary, and she watches as Killian puts in false information. She should have done the same, but it’s too late now.

Hopefully Gold will never make the voyage here and if he does, he won’t come through this port and check the records.

She doesn’t know where to go, but Killian does, taking them to a line of smaller boats that are going to take them into Manhattan. The thought of getting on another boat makes her stomach queasy, but she does it anyway, keeping her luggage in her lap. When they’re on land again, they start walking, wandering through bustling streets that are full of more people than Emma ever saw in Birmingham. As they move and her feet begin to ache in her boots, she watches as the clothes and the hair change, going from dull and much like hers to bright and extravagant. The buildings change too: fresh paint, doormen, nice cars waiting on the outside. It’s two different worlds, and from everything she’s heard, there are more worlds within this place. It’s divided between classes and race, and Killian walks through every section like he belongs.

He knows not a soul, but Emma swears some who pass by look as if they know who he is, what he does.

The chill that runs down her spine and makes residence there returns as she thinks once more of why they are here, of what they’re running from.

She’s been running for her entire life, but she’s never run this far.

She’s never had someone to run with.

They stop at a small restaurant for something fresh to eat, the aroma of fresh baked bread overpowering the scents of the city, and Emma nearly melts into the leather booth that sits by a warm fire. Killian orders their lunch, nicely cooked beef with a heavy soup and bread, and the taste is so miraculous that even Lee is quiet for the duration of the meal. He’s been complaining, wishing he would have stayed back in England and traveled to see Liam and Elsa instead of coming to America, but unless he wants to get back on the ship and travel back now, he is stuck with them.

Emma isn’t too fond of the kid, but at the end of the day, he is still a kid who has time left until he’s technically a man. Even growing up in times of war in a family that is entrenched in crime and danger, he still has the soft edges of a child who has been raised without a mother and is searching for someone to guide them.

Emma would know. She’s been searching for her entire life, and she did not have any brothers to surround herself with.

The couple who owns the restaurant comes to say hello and ask if they would like any more food, and when they hear the differing accents, they begin to ask questions. It puts Emma on edge, as if these two people who radiate kindness could know they are on the run, and she doesn’t like to answer with anything more than the minimum. Killian is much better at talking to them, eloquently giving them enough information without giving too much, and she does not fail to notice the way he keeps her left hand in his, hidden underneath the table.

“My wife and I are thrilled to be starting a new life here,” Killian tells them, squeezing her hand, a silent request for her to play along. “It seems we’ve already picked the greatest restaurant in the city to dine in, so we are off to a wonderful start.”

“Oh, how long have you two been married?” the woman, a petite brunette with short hair asks.

“Newlyweds,” Killian answers. “What about the two of you?”

“David, how long has it been now? Five years?”

“It was five years in October.” David kisses his wife’s temple, and Emma moves closer to Killian, glancing at him in an attempt to see what angle he’s playing. “Best five years of my life.”

“And you’ve opened up this damn fine establishment in this time?”

“If only,” Mary Margaret laughs, holding her hand to her chest. “My parents own several businesses across the city, and when we were married, they gave David a few of their finer dining establishments to manage. Where are you two living? We could give you all of the best recommendations.”

“We haven’t figured that out yet, love, but I’m sure we will find a place.”

“Stay with us!” Mary Margaret suggests, rising on her toes in excitement.

“Pardon?” Killian asks as Emma coughs on her drink and Lee kicks his leg under the table.

“Stay with us,” Mary Margaret repeats. David doesn’t look thrilled at her suggestion, but she’s powering on. “We live in an apartment a few blocks away, and it is far too big for just the two of us. You could have your own bedrooms, bathrooms, and living area. We would have to share the kitchen, but I’m sure that wouldn’t be a problem, would it, honey?”

“We couldn’t impose,” Killian insists, laying on every ounce of charm he has with his smile.

“My wife won’t take no for an answer, so believe me, you wouldn’t be imposing. We’d love to help get you on your feet. Maybe one day if we make it over to England, you two could be our guide.”

“Absolutely, mate,” Killian promises, squeezing Emma’s hand.

-/-

When Mary Margaret mentioned her family owning several businesses and restaurants, Emma knew they were wealthy. It was obvious in the way the woman dressed and the way she spoke, but as Emma sits on a bed with blankets as soft as silk and as warm as every coat she has ever owned, she is taken aback by the luxury of the place they are in. Emma has never been in a palace, but she imagines the Nolan flat is similar. Everything is ornate, no detail left unchecked, and being inside here is a different world than the outside. Even where the city is bustling and bright, there is still a darkness to it with the rarity of nature. It’s not Birmingham with its lack of sun and smog-coated air, but there are similarities.

This flat is a world away from any place she has ever stayed, and she imagines once they leave, she’ll never return.

If she’s honest with herself, Emma is worried her clothes are going to ruin the furniture every time she sits down.

“Emma,” Mary Margaret calls as she enters the room, a basket in her arms. “I know you likely have your own things, but I figured you could use some soaps and lotions. I also brought a robe. I have several, and I can only wear one at a time.”

“That really isn’t necessary.”

“I insist.” She walks a little further into the room and places the things on a low table. “The boys are having a drink together and talking business. You know how men do. So I figured I could make sure you’re comfortable.”

“This is the nicest place I’ve ever been inside, so yes, I am more than comfortable.”

“Good.” Mary Margaret smiles, and sits down on the arm of a sofa. “Listen. I don’t know if you’re interested in working or if Killian is the breadwinner for you and Lee, but if you are, I have connections with every department store and several offices where you could be a secretary. What did you do back in England? Did you work? I know it is rare for married women to work, but I take you for a rare woman.”

“I was a barmaid,” Emma lies. She was, technically, but for years before that she was blackmailed into being a spy. A part of her doesn’t feel free of that yet. “I was a barmaid and sometimes I would clean homes.”

“Oh, well, if you want to work in one of our restaurants, I could arrange that. Or you don’t have to do anything at all. What does your husband do?”

Emma blanches, and she inhales to calm her breathing. “He produced rum, owned a few pubs. It’s a family trade, actually. After the War, Killian and his older brother took over, but Killian wanted to explore the world for a little while and allow Lee to experience new things and mature. I don’t think Lee expected that would mean traveling with the two of us.”

“Is that how you and Killian met? At one of his pubs?”

“Yes.” Emma nods and smiles, rubbing her hands up and down her arms to smooth away the gooseflesh. “That’s how we met.”

“Do you not wear a ring?”

Emma’s fists clinch, and she attempts to hide her left hand, wrapping it under her arm. “Oh, it’s in my luggage. I didn’t want to risk losing it or having someone take it off my hand.”

Mary Margaret nods and returns Emma’s smile, hopefully believing her lie. “Anyhow, I don’t mean to be intrusive. I’ll leave you to bathe and take care of yourself. Would you like to have breakfast with me in the morning?”

“I would love that.”

Once Mary Margaret has left the room, Emma rises from the bed and collects the things she left. The bathroom is connected to the room, and the tile is cold against Emma’s feet. The bathwater is warm, however, the lotions all smell of vanilla and apples. After she’s bathed, Emma’s skin is softer than it’s ever been, and the dark shadows that have been lingering underneath her eyes for two weeks have begun to fade. She’s clean and comfortable, and she melts into the sheets when she gets into bed. Emma doesn’t know what time it is when Killian sulks into the room, but what she does know is that he never comes to bed. Instead, he sleeps on the chaise in the corner of the room and she’s left with no warm body pressed into hers.

Emma’s confusion grows, but at the moment, all she cares about is how she is sleeping with solid ground beneath her.

-/-

There’s a note and a box sitting next to her head when she wakes up the next morning.

Wear this. The Nolans are traditional. That is why I said we were married in the eatery. I realized in my conversations with David that we would need rings and to discuss a few details to align our stories. I don’t want to take advantage of them or their kindness, but as you well know, sometimes lies can be used to get us what we need.

Killian.

Emma squints her eyes to see if the words change, but they don’t. The words don’t change, and Killian’s lack of presence in the room doesn’t change either. She doesn’t know what time it is or where he is, but she knows he’s not here.

She also knows that inside the black velvet box is a ring, a gold band holding up a round emerald stone. It’s delicate and intricate, and even with her untrained eye, she knows it is real.

-/-

Emma’s day is spent with Mary Margaret in the flat and in another one of their restaurants where they eat lunch. They chat and wander around, and Mary Margaret shows Emma her collection of books as well as some paints and fabrics she uses to occupy her time when she cannot drive to her family’s land where they have horses and a bow and arrow course where Mary Margaret apparently likes to spend much of her time.

Emma never would have figured the woman for enjoying so much time outdoors, and the past near decade of Emma’s life has been spent reading people for their secrets.

Killian returns long after the sun has set, Lee and David with him, and David informs all of them that Killian will now be handling the books at several restaurants until he establishes himself in the city. Lee will work as waitstaff when he can, but they want to work on him enrolling in University.

It all sounds great, but to Emma, it sounds like she’s been left out and that she’ll have to piddle around all day with nothing to do but talk about fabrics and the latest fashions with Mary Margaret.

Emma isn’t used to not working, and she’s going to need something to occupy her time if she doesn’t want her mind to run wild. Working in a department store or as a secretary sounds dreadful, but she may have to take the offers she can get.

-/-

“Do you like it?”

“Hmm?”

“The ring. Do you like it?”

Emma glances down at the stone on her finger, the heavy weight she’s been fiddling with all day, and she turns back to Killian as his arms wrap around her waist and his lips press into her neck.

“It’s beautiful. Where did you get it? How did you get it so early in the morning?”

“I have my ways.”

“Killian.”

He doesn’t say anything back, instead kissing her until no thoughts are left in her brain and no clothes are left on her body. They fall into the back and forth, the push and the pull, and Emma’s left breathless as she moves on top of him, every problem melting away into the firmness of Killian and the comfort she feels with him.

The pleasure too, especially when his head is buried between her thighs, and Emma can do nothing more than hold onto his hair as tightly as she is holding on the sheets.

-/-

When she wakes up in the morning, he’s gone, and she’s not sure if he slept next to her or not. The blanket hanging over the chaise makes her think otherwise.

-/-

Emma takes the next few days to explore the city. As kind as Mary Margaret is, she cannot spend all of her time with the woman, and she certainly cannot commit to a job when she isn’t sure which would make her less miserable. So, she walks and explores, listening to people play music from street corners and coax people into their stores. It’s as if the people never sleep and more and more come in each and every day. Emma thrives in it, even if she stays in the corners and observes.

So much of her life has been spent with a gun pressed to the back of her head, and for once, she has been relieved of the cold weight of the metal.

She isn’t sure how to deal with any of it.

Days begin to pass, and Emma spends many of them wandering, even more of them sitting by a large window with a pile of books next to her as she stares out at the snow falling outside and coating the streets with a white powder. Killian comes and goes, sometimes coming back for meals in the middle of the day, sometimes not, and a week after arriving, Emma tells Mary Margaret she would love to work in one of their eateries as a barmaid or a server, even if that is uncommon in America.

That’s when all hell breaks loose, and the government passes laws about the sale of alcohol.

The prohibition, they call it.

Bloody pointless, Killian calls it.

Every night at dinner, Killian and David discuss how not being able to sell alcohol is affecting the restaurants. Mary Margaret’s father comes by one night in a rage of fury that is only quenched when he realizes Killian, Emma, and Lee are there, and it seems that the little slice of paradise they’ve found may be disappearing.

“Should we look for somewhere else to stay?” Emma asks as she rubs lotion down her arms, vanilla filling the bathroom. “I know the Nolans will never lose their money because they owned more than pubs and eateries, but I can’t help but feel we’re taking advantage of them.”

Killian moves a blade across his jaw as he stares in the mirror. “The only lie we’ve told them is about the state of our relationship, love.”

“That’s quite the lie.”

“I don’t think it’s too far fetched.”

Emma turns to him and crosses her arms over her chest. “We are not married, Killian. We are so far from married that we don’t sleep in the same bed. Actually, I take that back. From what I’ve heard of some couples, we might as well be married in that you fuck me and then leave. So I guess you’re right. We’re not lying to them.”

He doesn’t flinch. Instead, he finishes his shave and puts the blade down near the sink before turning to her with a clenched jaw and fire in his eyes. “What is it you’re trying to say, Swan?”

“I don’t think I have to bloody explain it!”

Killian cocks his head to the side and mirrors her, crossing his arms over his bare chest. “So, you’re cross that I’m not sleeping in the bed with you?”

“I think it’s preposterous that you sleep in a chaise when we have a bed.”

“I think that’s not what you’re truly mad about.”

“Well, what would you know about what I think?”

“You’re an open book, Swan. I’ve told you that before, and I’ll tell you again. You try to hide how you feel, but you cannot do that from me.”

“Well, that makes you a real arse because then you would know that I’m not happy to be wandering around this place all day with Mary Margaret. I’m not someone who is meant to be a housewife.”

“I thought you were tending the bar at – ”

“I obviously lost that job, Killian. We can’t sell liquor.”

Emma turns away from him and catches a look at herself in the mirror. Her hair is long and soft, brushed out and curled, and it’s never been like this, never this smooth and well taken care of. Half a month in a new place, and she already looks like a different person.

“I don’t like not having work,” Emma continues, “and I don’t like that I’m in a new country and the man I came here with runs off and spends all his time in business I know nothing about.”

Killian scoffs and drops his hands to his sides. “Need I remind you that we are here because you got yourself involved with Gold.”

“Need I remind you that you slept with his wife and are a gangster. I didn’t make him come after you like that. You know I had no fucking choice, Killian. I was trying not to die or to have my son killed! You have always had a choice in your actions. This is not my fault.”

“You betrayed me,” Killian says, his voice steady even as his fingers twitch, the ring on his left hand catching the light from the lamp above. “You betrayed me. You worked with my enemy, you lied to me for months, and you made me believe you were getting close to me because you fancied me. Little did I know that it was because you were trying to learn all of my secrets so I could be carted off to prison while you continued to live your life.”

“I didn’t have a choice.”

“I know.”

Emma throws her hands in the air and covers her face, trying to regulate her breathing to calm her breath.

She is not successful.

“So what do you want, Killian? I can’t keep having this conversation. I can’t keep walking on the edge of a cliff. I want some stability. I want to not be terrified all the time, and not knowing where I stand with you terrifies me. If it would be better for us to part ways, let’s part ways. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life feeling like you’re never going to trust me. I’m tired of us running in circles and not solving anything.”

Killian moves her hands away from her face, calloused fingers cupping her chin and tilting her gaze up to his. His eyes are still dark, his mouth still firm, but there’s a softness there that wasn’t there before. “I am not an honorable man, love, and you deserve better than me. You deserve to live a good life with a man who can give you everything your heart desires and who doesn’t have so many secrets.”

“Tell me your secrets,” Emma whispers. “Tell me, and I’ll tell you the rest of mine. That’s the only way we can make this work, and if we can’t, I can find my way back home or to a new place. I’ve always been on my own, and I don’t have any problem with that.”

Killian leans his head forward and presses his forehead against hers, wet hair dripping onto her. “I should hate you. You should hate me for how I’ve treated you over the past month, for how I treat others.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“No?”

“I think you’ve been a right bastard lately, but I also think I deserve it.”

“You don’t.” Emma chuckles, and Killian presses his nose further into her cheek. His lips inch closer, but they don’t touch, not yet. “We’re fucked up, Swan. There’s no way around that.”

“But we could be less fucked up if we tried.”

Killian huffs and gently kisses her. “Will you come to bed with me?”

“Well, as long as we get into bed and not your chaise.”

“Aye, I think that sounds like a better plan. The bloody thing has been straining my back.”

Nothing about their relationship has ever been normal, and as they settle under the covers of their oversized bed, Emma is once again reminded of that. They’ve never had this, not like this. They had their night in the pub, which was interrupted, and then they were forced to share space on the ship. Here, Killian has only come to bed for sex, and then he’s moved to his own space.

This is foreign, especially as Emma rolls over to face Killian and finds him already looking at her with his hand reaching out for her hip underneath the covers.

“The night we first slept together,” Emma begins, “why’d you have to get that gun that night?”

He slowly blinks. “Rob needed it the next day for a job, and it wouldn’t have been smart to go digging in graveyards in the daylight.”

“What was the job?”

Killian raises his brow. “Someone made an attempt on his lady’s life, and he needed to take care of it. I was the only one who knew the location of the guns, so it had to be me who retrieved it.”

Emma nods and moves an inch closer as Killian’s thumb traces circles on her hip. “Will you tell me more? About everything? As if I was one of your brothers and in the inner circle?”

Killian huffs and squeezes her hip. “You are certainly not one of my brothers, and thank fuck for that.”

“So crude,” Emma laughs.

“I’ve never claimed to be otherwise. My life isn’t pretty. Are you sure you want to hear it all?”

“No secrets,” Emma repeats. “That’s what I want. Keeping them has gotten us nowhere.”

So, he tells her. He tells her of how his family has been in the business for generations. They used to be wealthier, but they fell apart under his grandfather’s guidance. His father, who Killian holds no affection for, was ruthless and his ruthlessness elevated the Jones Corporation to the levels it once held in the past. He made the relationships with the coppers, figured out how to hide illegal dealings in legal ones, and it is with all of his teachings that Killian learned everything he knows.

It is with Killian’s hatred of him that Killian has learned to do everything better than his father.

It is his love of his mum that kept Killian from living his entire life in the pursuit of money and revenge. After he lost Milah, all he wanted was revenge on Gold and every person who had done him wrong, but then the War happened and Killian saw more evil in the world than he had ever seen before. It changed him, and while violence is still necessary in his line or work, he does everything he can to avoid it or minimize the carnage.

Killian tells her so much of everything she’s never heard before, and as each minute passes, the man in front of her changes, a chameleon that she is attempting to keep up with.

She does the same.

She tells him everything she can think to tell in the dark of night when sleep is creeping into the edges of her eyes, and she knows in the morning she won’t remember each word she utters and each story she tells. But in the morning her heart will be lighter, and maybe, just maybe, she and Killian can be lighter too.

For good this time, with all of the trust they did not have when exchanging stories on the ship.

-/-

He drives her across the city in the morning, not telling her the destination, but she recognizes Harlem and the way it differs from Fifth Avenue almost immediately. The buildings are smaller, not as luxurious, the people are more diverse, and the streets are filled with children playing and more street performers than in the main parts of Manhattan.

It is more like what Emma is used to, and it creates a stark divide between the wealthy and the normal.

She imagines she would like to live here more than in the Nolans’ flat.

“Was that Lee?” Emma asks as they drive past a small block of apartments. “Isn’t he supposed to be in classes?”

“He gets time off, and the lass he fancies lives here. That is not what I’m trying to show you no matter how interesting the lad’s love life may be.”

What he is trying to show her is an empty café, the black and white tile work half done but no one around to finish it. Despite the obviously new tile, it looks abandoned. “What is this place?”

Killian takes her hand, interlacing their fingers, and walks her through the café and toward the back wall. He presses against it. There’s a click, and then the wall is sliding open. Killian guides her through the hidden door, which makes her heart ache for the My Fairest Lady back home, and then they’re walking down a hallway and down a set of stairs until they’re in what looks like a combination of a pub and a dance hall. It’s darker and full of stained wood, and the lights are dim. There are no windows, but she does see several doors behind curtains and counters.

“Killian – ” Emma begins as he turns on more lights. “Killian, please tell me this isn’t what I think it is.”

He turns to her and flashes his trademark smile, the one that could get her to do anything without a word muttered from his lips. “It’s a speakeasy.”

They’ve been popping up across the city ever since the ban on liquor was announced, and she should have known this is what Killian has been doing.

Emma shakes her head. “You’re a scoundrel.”

“Dashing rapscallion. I prefer that.” He winks and takes both of her hands in his. “I don’t know how long we’re going to be here. I’ve wired and written Liam and Will, and they both say they’ve heard whispers of Gold searching for me, for us. Liam is staying in France for a longer time to protect Elsa. Will and Rob are taking care of the businesses. I don’t have everything figured out yet, but I thought we should make the best of our time here.”

“You’re going to get arrested. You don’t have the coppers in your pockets here. Do you know what you’re doing?”

“This is who I am, Emma. This is what I do. I find ways to maneuver around the bloody system when I can. I know many a lass expects a man to change and become softer when he falls in love, but I do not want to give up who I am.”

“I would never ask you to do that.”

“Then trust me,” he insists, cocking his head and smiling, a real, genuine smile this time. “I know what I’m doing, and this is an opportunity for me, for us. If I don’t do it, someone else will. You can help me. You can be by my side, fully this time. It’ll be similar to how I ran things back home.”

“That nearly got you killed.”

“I don’t think a spy is going to maneuver her way into my life and seduce me.”

Emma tilts her head back with laughter. “She better not.”

Killian tugs her closer until they’re pressed together, and he glides his lips over hers as his hand slides down her back and rests in the dip. He’s gentle and demanding all at once, and he could convince her of anything with one kiss.

One kiss, one smile, one turn of phrase.

“We make quite the team, love.”

“We’ll have to see about that.”

-/-

Over the next few weeks and months, Emma watches as Killian works his magic on this place. Out front, construction continues on the café, a place that will sell sandwiches, sweets, tea, and coffee at a quick pace to compete with other cafes, and in the hidden halls behind and below, the dark room is finished and transformed into a pub that Emma would have wandered into in England with little question. It’s beautiful, and when it’s full of people and records are at full blast, Emma can feel the life vibrating through her skin.

New York City is unlike any place she’s ever been before, more alive than any place else, but hidden in the back of a café with Killian’s arm around her waist and a drink in her hand as people dance around her, Emma knows that she partially feels that way because of the man she’s with.

He brings out color in things that are black and white, and she could dance and laugh with him forever.

The money comes in like nothing she’s ever seen, and Liam brings in barrels of rum and whiskey from England. It’s a coordinated effort that nearly goes awry at the port, but they manage it. For a week, Liam, Lee, and Killian are reunited, and since Liam brought Elsa, Emma takes her to meet Mary Margaret, who insists on taking them shopping and to get their hair done before they dine in a park, the new spring flowers beginning to bloom. Mary Margaret and David have no idea as to what goes on behind the scenes of one of their businesses, and Emma hopes they never do. She’s grown overly fond of the couple, and they’re good people. She doesn’t like taking advantage of that kindness, and after much warring in her heart, she’s decided that she won’t tell them about any of it. Their ignorance is for their safety.

That isn’t a thought she has too often, though. She’s too busy helping Killian by making sure everything runs smoothly. Every day more people come to their speakeasy. Lately, it’s been full of singers and actors who are in the pictures and on Broadway, and Emma knows they’re gaining a reputation as one of the best places for drinks and music. As good as business is, that also comes with its own dangers. With more notoriety comes more of a chance of the coppers finding out, but with his impossible charm, Killian has managed to get them in his pocket as well. It hasn’t been easy, and there have been times when she’s not sure Killian is going to return to their bed at night.

He always does, laying a kiss on her cheek before he falls into a slumber right before the sunrise.

Elsa and Liam return back to Europe after a wonderful week, taking Lee with them after his schooling period finishes, but Emma and Killian don’t join them on their return. Rumors of Gold run rampant through Birmingham. Few have seen him, but Liam told Killian yet again that the threat on his life is still prominent. It would be better to stay until they can locate Gold and take care of their problem. Liam looked at Emma with disgust when he said it, like every danger toward Killian was her own fault, but she knows that Gold’s history with Killian predates Emma. His deciding to murder Killian, however, does not, and she never allows that to slip from her mind. Emma doesn’t think Liam likes her much, likely thinks her too much trouble, and she wouldn’t disagree.

She never was too fond of Liam, but after he assures her that her son is safe with his parents living life completely unaware of his birth mother’s troubles, she thinks she has never loved anyone more.

She won't let anything bad happen to that child. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself.

When Mary Margaret announces she’s pregnant in May, Killian makes the decision that he and Emma are going to move to their own place. The Nolans insist that they stay. They like having them around, but it truly is the best for them to find their own home. Emma promises that she will see Mary Margaret every week and that she will be sure to shower her baby with all of the finest things.

“Are you two thinking about children?” Mary Margaret asks as she cradles her bump. “You would be a wonderful mother, Emma.”

“Maybe someday,” Emma insists, trying to keep her voice steady when it wants to waver. “Maybe someday.”

Killian takes her hand, warm palm over the cool metal of her ring, and squeezes before guiding her out of the Nolans’ apartment and to the car that’s waiting to take them to their new home, a brownstone away from Fifth Avenue but still close enough that Emma can easily walk everywhere she needs to go.

Their furniture has already been placed, food stocked in the cupboard and the icebox, and while now would usually be the time for them both to go to the café, Killian assures her that someone else is taking care of it for the night. They can take the night off to relax into their new home and make it theirs.

Emma quickly learns what he means by that when his hand cups the back of her head as he pushes her into the door. She laughs into the kiss as Killian murmurs filthy words, but soon she’s breathless. Each touch, each whisper, each kiss builds her higher, and by the time they’re in their bed and stripped out of their clothes, Emma is dizzy in the desire for it all.

As she moves above him, each thrust of his hips and movement of hers bringing them closer, all Emma can think about is how she’s home.

This is her first true one, and it is nothing like any of her dreams told her it would be.

“I love you,” she whispers to Killian as her nails leave red marks on his chest.

“And I you,” he promises, bringing her down to meld their lips together.

-/-

Emma’s staring at the ceiling of her bedroom, soft sheets strewn over half her body, and Killian’s leg is half hooked over hers, his breathing coming down from heavy until she can barely hear it at all. Emma reaches out for him, placing her hand on his chest, and Killian reaches for it and brings it to his lips to kiss.

“Do you like your ring?” he asks.

“Hmmm?”

“Your ring. Do you like it?”

Emma lifts her hand away from Killian’s and moves her fingers, watching the gold and emerald glint in the lamplight. For so long this ring felt foreign on her. It felt like more of a lie than it was, but now, when she takes the ring off to bathe or to clean, it’s as if something is missing from her.

“It’s beautiful.” Emma flips over onto her stomach, her breasts pressing against Killian’s chest, and she props herself up on her elbow to look both at Killian and the ring. “How did you get it so quickly? You left it by the bed so early in the morning. I don’t think any jewelers were open before the sun rose, and you didn’t answer the first time I asked.”

He clicks his tongue and presses his head back to the pillow. His hair is messy from where her hands were running through it, and she can see some of the lines around his eyes and the few that have started to form on his forehead. She realizes now that she has no idea how old he is. He was born in August, but she doesn’t know what year. He asked her about her age, but she never thought to do the same.

“It was my mum’s.”

Emma stops tapping her fingers against his chest and looks at Killian. “What?”

“Your ring was my mum’s. She had it made for herself, and she wore it every day. When she was sick, she gave Liam her wedding ring, and she gave me this one. We were instructed that we were to give the rings to the women we married, and, well…”

Killian arches his brows, as if he wants Emma to fill in the blanks, and Emma drops down and rests her hands on his chest and her chin over her knuckles so her eyes are on the same level as him.

“We’re not married.”

“Aye, but…” Killian tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear, and his left hand finds her back, cool metal running against her skin. “We could be. I could make an honest woman out of you.”

“I think you and I both know neither of us will ever be honest.”

Killian chuckles. “We’re honest with each other, and that’s enough for me.”

Emma’s heart is beating in a faster rhythm than a jazz band, and yet, she feels calm.

She feels steady, and her home is so much more than the four walls around them.

“Would you really want me as your wife? All I seem to do is get you into trouble.”

“Ah, but I love trouble.” His hand slides further down her body and squeezes her arse. “And you only get me into the best kind. So, what do you say, Emma Swan? Would you like to marry me?”

“Yes.”

-/-

They get married a week later in the park near their home. Killian wears a suit that isn’t in his daily rotation and Emma wears a white dress with silver beads sewn into it that she found while walking to the café two days before. It’s simple, intimate, and if Emma is honest with herself, not much changes other than her last name.

Emma likes it that way.

She likes her life.

She loves her husband.

“One round of drinks on the house,” Killian exclaims in the speakeasy that night as a band plays loudly in the background. “But only the one. I’m not made of gold.”

There’s a chorus of cheers around them, and Killian nods to the bartender before wrapping his arm around her waist and pressing his lips to her check, stubble scratching against her skin.

“Well, aren’t you generous?” Emma teases. “What’s the occasion?”

“Married the bloody love of my life today.”

“She sounds wonderful.”

“Aye,” he winks. “The best.” Killian pulls her closer and moves his lips over hers in a dirty kiss. “Most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Most intelligent too.” He kisses her again, then moves to her jaw. “Witty and wild and fierce.”

“Wild?” Emma sighs, tilting her neck back to give him more access.

“You wouldn’t believe the things she gets up to. I hear she had the bollocks to become friendly with gangsters.”

“Who would ever do that?”

“She would.”

Emma laughs and presses her fingers against Killian’s chest, tugging on his jacket sleeves to pull him even closer. “You have a private office here, right?”

He arches his brows. “Aye.”

“You might consider taking me to it.”

“Mrs. Jones, you need only ask.”

She and Killian walk through the crowd of people, stopping to say hello to everyone along the way, before they move past a wall of beads hanging from the ceiling and several doors that lead them to Killian’s back office. It’s filled with files for the speakeasy and from the café, his legitimate and illegitimate businesses combining in one place, and Emma shakes her head when she sees it all. How has he managed to pull this off?

How have they?

The door clicks behind her, several bolts shifting as it locks, and the heat of Killian catches up on her as he moves behind her and wraps his arms around her waist, breathing her in and slowly swaying her. Emma sighs back into him and tilts her head to look at him.

She could get lost in his eyes, and she would willingly throw away the maps.

“Do you remember the song,” Killian begins, “the one you sang in the pub?”

“The one that made you kiss me for the first time?”

“Aye. That would be the one.”

“Of course I remember.”

“Would you mind singing it again?”

Emma laughs and twists around in his arms. She wraps her arms around his neck and continues to sway. “Well, if you insist.”

“I do.”

Emma sighs and rolls her shoulders back, all of the sounds of the outside fading away as she focuses on Killian and the way that he is gently swaying her, their steps only matching up with each other instead of those outside the room.

“In a neat little town they called Belfast, apprentice to trade I was bound. And many an hour's sweet happiness have I spent in that neat little town. A sad misfortune came over me, which caused me to stray from the land. Far away from my friends and relations, betrayed by the black velvet band.”

Killian closes his eyes in the middle of the verse, but his lips tick up in a smile. There’s a flash of white teeth, and Emma leans her head against his shoulder, resting her cheek in a place of comfort, and sings in his ear.

“Her eyes they shone like diamonds. I thought her the queen of the land. And her hair, it hung over her shoulder, tied up with a black velvet band. I took a stroll down Broadway, meaning not long for to stay when who should I meet but this pretty fair maid come a-traipsing along the highway. She was both fair and handsome. Her neck, it was just like a swan. And her hair, it hung over her shoulder tied up with a black velvet band.”

“Do you know how this song ends?” Killian asks.

“She betrays him.”

“I think it’s rather fitting for you and I, but the lyrics would have to change for us.”

“That can be arranged.”

Killian laughs into their kiss, and Emma can feel joy spreading over her body as she melts into it. He is not perfect. Neither is she. They will never be two people who have a white picket fence and no stains on their hearts, but if Emma is honest, she wouldn’t have it any other way.

All she needs is to be happy, and she is.

There’s a sudden bang outside the room, and Emma pulls back from Killian’s lips. His hands tighten on her back, and they still as another bullet is released from a gun.

“Bloody hell.”

“What’s happening?” Emma whispers as Killian moves away from Emma and toward the door, pressing his ear against the wood.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “Fuck. The coppers are here, and I don’t think it’s the ones who enjoy our drinks.”

Emma feels her stomach drop.

“What do we do?”

“We stay here,” Killian says, slow, measured. “Help me move the desk against the door.”

“They’ll hear it scraping.”

“Not if we lift it. There’s too much commotion outside for them to come here first.”

Emma nods and helps Killian move the desk. It’s a heavy oak, and she struggles to keep it from falling to the ground. They get it, along with several filing cabinets, and Emma’s heart pounds as the commotion outside keeps happening. There are several exits for this exact reason, for people to run away if someone snitches on the place, and Emma hopes most everyone is able to leave and run to safety.

She knows that she and Killian are not going to be so lucky. They’ll only have so much time before they’re arrested.

Emma turns to see Killian with a crowbar, and he pulls back a plank of wood siding on the wall. “What are you doing?”

“There’s a tunnel through here,” he explains. “I had it installed when Dave put me in charge of construction on the place.”

“Oh my God, are the Nolans going to be charged for this?”

“No.” Killian shakes his head. “I changed the paperwork. Even though this is connected to them, no one will ever know. And if someone finds out, Mary Margaret’s father has enough power to aid them. Come help me. We’ll only have so much time to get out of here.”

Emma nods and walks toward him, helping to pull away boards until there’s a big enough gap for them to move through. Killian gets down on his knees and goes first, and Emma follows behind him, only a little light available to guide them. Her hands and knees are covered in dirt, and with each passing minute, they become more scraped and bloodied. It stings, but it’s nothing she can’t handle.

Emma doesn’t know how much time passes or how far they travel, but eventually, they come to a stop and Killian kicks against another panel. The sounds of the city come through, pouring rain joining it, and when Killian climbs out first, she can see streetlights. He helps her out, apologizing for making a mess of her dress, and Emma doesn’t have to look down at it to know that it is no longer white and that some of the beads are lost.

“Where are we?”

“A few blocks over. C’mon, love. We have to go.”

They walk through the rain, puddles gathering at their feet and water soaking through their hair and their clothes. Killian attempts to shield her with his jacket, but it does no good. She is already a drowned rat, and she might as well accept it. They can’t go back, can’t see what’s happening in the place they’ve put so much of their heart into, so they go home.

Nothing about it feels right.

“Aren’t they going to come looking for you here?”

“I’m Mr. Jones to everyone there. No one knows my first name. No one knows anything about us. We should be safe for now, but I’ll have business to attend to. We may need to leave for awhile, possibly return to England to keep me from ending up behind bars.”

Emma stills then slips off her heels. “What will we do with everything here?”

“Save it for us to return. We can make a home in whatever place we desire. The options are there for us, sweetheart.”

Emma reaches up and squeezes the water out of her hair as Killian undoes some more buttons on his shirt, his hair dark with water on his chest. “What about Gold? You remember what Liam said? He’s looking for you, Killian. He’s looking for us.”

“I am not scared of that crocodile of a man,” Killian seethes. “He is a coward who has others do his work for him.”

“Are you not a coward, Mr. Jones? Running away with your mistress to America and then running back to England when your threads are pulled?”

Gooseflesh rises on every inch of Emma’s skin, and ice runs down her veins. She knows that voice. It haunts her nightmares and her waking hours, and she thought she’d washed the grime from him away. She thought he was gone, that she was safe.

And yet he’s here, in her home, emerging from a dark corner. The silver of his gun appears as lightning flashes outside and thunder joins with it, shaking their home to its bones of wood and brick.

“Killian,” Emma whispers. Her hands are shaking, and she wants to vomit. Her legs are heavy, unmovable, and she watches in horror as Killian’s eyes widen. For the first time, she sees fear there.

“What do you want, Gold?” Killian turns away from her to face Gold, and his shoulders straighten. The tension is obvious through his soaked white shirt, each muscle defined despite the lack of light.

“I want you dead, of course. I’ve come all this way to finish you off for all that you’ve done to me.”

“I did nothing to you.”

“You had my wife.”

“Your wife left you, and you murdered her.” Killian’s voice is even, but she knows he’s raging inside. They don’t talk about Milah often, only on nights when Killian is near drunk and a little melancholy, but Emma knows Killian loved her and she loved him. “That happened years ago. An entire war has been fought since then. You’ve had plenty of opportunity to kill me. You could have shot me while I was walking down the street at any time. I half expected it every time I left my home. What are you getting from this?”

“Getting to see you suffer, of course.” Gold steps closer, his face becoming more illuminated, and though it has only half a year since Emma last saw him, he looks years older. “It was so pleasurable the last time, but you didn’t get your due then. No, no, that comes now.”

All those times Killian suspected that Gold let Killian live because he wanted Killian to suffer from uncertainty were right. That’s exactly what the bastard was doing, but the time of waiting has run out.

Killian’s hand flicks behind him, and she knows he’s trying to subtly reach for his gun. Emma regrets not having any weapons on her. She didn’t think she’d need any today. She didn’t expect this to happen.

Any of it.

The raid of the speakeasy and Gold showing up in their home are connected, and while Emma wants to know how he found them and why he waited until a day that was supposed to be about them celebrating their marriage, she knows none of that matters when he might kill them both.

“It’s so nice to see that the two of you have patched things up,” Gold giggles, maniacal. “I assume this means you know you’ll not be with a blushing virgin tonight, Jones. What a shame for you to have to deal with on your wedding day. Broken goods.”

“Keep your mouth shut about her,” Killian hisses, his hand flinching right over his holster. “This has nothing to do with her.”

Gold clicks his tongue. “That’s where you’re mistaken. It has everything to do with her. You took my wife. Now I think it’s time I took yours. It’ll be so much more satisfying than it was the last time.”

The glass shattering behind her comes to Emma’s attention before she realizes that shots have been fired. She doesn’t know who shot first, where any of the bullets landed, or if Killian is okay. The power has gone out in their home, the rain and the thunder have picked up outside, coating the world in darkness like she has never seen before, and when the lightning comes, she sees flashes of limbs moving. It’s not enough to know where anyone is or what’s happened, and Emma is pulled down to the ground as another bullet soars by her, crashing into a mirror. Emma covers her head and drops fully to the floor, careful not to cut herself on any of the glass.

She should run.

She’s been doing it for her entire life, but she can’t do it now.

She can’t leave Killian behind.

Grunts, groans, and curses mix in with the roar or the thunder and the pounding of the rain, and she sees more flashes of movement, hears more shouting. Killian lets out a loud hiss of pain, and Emma moves closer to where the noise is coming from, trying to find him.

She can’t find him, and her heart starts to pound.

One beat, two beat, three beats too fast until her cheeks are heated and her chest aches in pain.

Killian is still making noise, so he can’t be dead.

He can’t be, he can’t be, he can’t be.

She cannot lose him.

“Emma,” he groans, and she turns. He’s in the corner of the sitting area, his knee clutched to his chest, and there are visible red stains on his fingers and his shirt. “Emma, love, you have to go.”

“I’m not leaving you here.” She moves quickly in an attempt to get to him, to heal whatever has been hurt, but then she’s being yanked back and can feel the barrel of a gun pressing into her temple.

It’s not the first time it’s happened, but she has a sinking feeling it will be the last.

“You should have listened to him, dearie,” Gold whispers in her ear, and that old familiar shiver at the sound of his voice comes back. “Better yet, you should have listened to me and not run away with a dirty gangster.”

“How is that any worse than having to work for a dirty politician?” Emma spits.

“Because with me, you don’t end up dead.”

Not dead but certainly not alive.

Emma hears him cock the gun. She feels him twitch behind her. It’s not enough and too much all at once, and Emma’s hand flexes, blood running across her palm and she takes the shard of glass she’s holding and jams it into Gold’s bad leg. It’s enough for him to fall back in pain, for him to lose his footing and stumble to the ground, and before Emma has a chance to do anything else, a bullet hits Gold.

One that will keep him from ever getting back up.

“Emma, darling,” Killian pants, dropping his gun to the floor. “Emma I need you to come wrap my leg, and I fucking need you to get me my rum. This bastard fucking hurts.”

If she wasn’t too busy crying, Emma would laugh at Killian’s words. Right now, all she wants to do is collapse to the ground, but she can’t. She has to help Killian, so she moves to the kitchen, stumbling over furniture and hoping her bare feet don’t get cut up with glass, and she finds Killian’s rum and some wraps before returning to him. She can’t see, but she thinks there’s a bullet in his thigh, and she already knows he won’t allow her to take her to the hospital for this.

“Are you okay, love?” he asks as he takes a large gulp of rum.

Emma laughs at the ridiculousness of his question. “I’m not the one who got shot.”

“But you could have.”

She yanks on the cloth and starts wrapping it around his leg. She won’t be able to do anything more than stopping the bleeding right now. “I didn’t.”

“I should have been more careful, love. I shouldn’t have allowed myself to get so soft.”

“Killian Jones, never in a million years could that happen to you.” He manages a lopsided smile, but from the way he grits his teeth afterward, she knows it’s taking more effort than he would admit to hide his pain. “Some wedding night, huh?” Emma jokes as she tightens the wrap. If she had been a nurse in the War, she imagines she would have been sent home almost immediately for her shoddy skills.

Killian laughs, this time genuine, and Emma leans forward to press her forehead to his and press her hand over his heart, thankful to feel it beating right along with hers. She can feel his smile pressing into her mouth, and she never wants to lose that feeling. “We’ll get there, my love.”

And they do.

In the morning light and with the help of one of Killian’s bartenders who was actually a nurse in the War, Emma gets Killian back to functional. He struggles walking for awhile and is stubborn enough to act like nothing hurts, but Emma knows him better than that. They know their time in New York is limited with everything that’s happened in the past twenty-four hours, so after packing a few bags and Killian having his men here clean up the mess with instructions to return the house to livable condition as soon as possible, they make themselves look presentable for a few last goodbyes.

Emma buys Mary Margaret baby gifts, and Killian buys a pram to put it all in, his way of thanking them for everything they did that neither Killian nor Emma deserve. They don’t see them, instead leaving a note and promising to come back to visit when the baby is born, and Killian leaves a separate message for David about their work. It’s not the cleanest break, but there’s no way they could allow the Nolans to see them with all of their scrapes and bruises.

It would only break their hearts.

Soon after that, they’re at the harbor, Killian is buying them two tickets back home, and Emma can do nothing more than stare at the ocean, the one that she is ready to cross again when she spent so many months hating it.

Once again, it is her safe haven.

Though, she may have found another one, a man whose eyes mirror the ocean and consume her all the same.

Killian grunts as he sits down on the bench beside her. She takes his hand in hers and squeezes, wishing she could take some of the pain away. It won’t last forever, and soon, his scars will be another mark on his body, another story to be told. If Killian tells the story, she imagines he will embellish every detail. The thought makes her smile even as the cuts on her own two hands sting when they are hit with the mist of the salt water.

“I don’t want to run away again,” Emma admits. “I know we’ll never be traditional, but I’d like to stay in one place and be surrounded by our family. I think it’s time you took back your rightful place as the head of the Jones Corporation in Birmingham. For good.”

“As long as I have you by my side.”

“Always.”

-/-

-/-

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#black velvet #black velvet part two #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfic #captain swan

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Skyline Manor by GleefullyCaptainSwan Chapter 10/13

Read on AO3: | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10

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 10: Attention Please

The Captain watched the woman in the red cloak sniffing the air as she moved through the forest. He knew of her kind, had heard of their abilities, but had avoided interaction with her species. His First Mate warily followed behind him, refusing to allow him to continue his quest unless she accompanied him after finding out about the inclusion of the aid of the Huntress.

“Are we sure she isn’t leading us into a trap, waiting until we are all separated before turning and hunting us all?”

Killian turned toward her, “Such positive affirmations, French.”

“Besides the ability to track, I also have excellent hearing.” The woman in the cloak remarked loudly from the front of the group.

“Great job, now you’ve offended her.” He chuckled, continuing his path.

Suddenly the woman stopped, holding her hand in the air. She whispered to the Princess, “I caught the scent of Master Henry. That way.”

Killian rushed to the Princess, grabbing her by the arm. “Stay here. I’ll go ahead.”

“I’m going with you.” She said defiantly.

“I believe the King, and might I say the Duke, were told that you would not venture into danger on this quest. So, I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist that you stay here with the woman.”

“If you think I give a damn about what you told my brother, much less the Duke, you are very mistaken.” She held her chin high, yanking her arm away from the Captain and marching in the direction that Ruby had pointed.

Killian grumbled and followed the woman down the path. “One of these days, I’m going to stop chasing this woman.”

~*~

“So, she’s just dating Will now?” Ruby asked after Emma explained what had happened with Killian, Belle, and William.

“I guess. Apparently they’ve been chatting for two weeks.” Emma held her hand in air quotes because she wasn’t exactly sure what chatting meant. “But Will just asked her out the other day. Apparently that was their first real date when I caught them sucking face outside his door.”

“How’s Killian holding up?”

“How should I know?” Emma deflected.

“The two of you seem pretty close lately, I saw you both at the diner the other day eating lunch together. Just saying, you seemed pretty cozy.” Ruby teased.

“There’s nothing going on, if that is what you are implying Rubes.”

“So, then you wouldn’t mind if I asked him out? You know now that he’s single and all.”

“I uh…” Emma frowned, trying to calm her sudden anxiety. “I don’t know if he’s going to want to date right after getting dumped by Belle and all.” Emma took a drink of her water. “But sure, I mean if you want to ask him out.”

“What better way to get over a broken heart than by getting back up on the horse.” Ruby grinned. “I’d ride that stallion bareback.”

Emma choked on her water. “Um, yeah I guess.”

“Oh relax, I’m not going to ask him out. I don’t date men who aren’t emotionally available anyway.”

“Well, you do whatever you want. I’m not his keeper.” Emma said dryly.

“Are you sure about that?” She smirked, but Emma only nodded quietly, her mind swirling around thoughts of her neighbor.

Later that evening, she sat on the roof, surrounded by her family and friends at an impromptu get together, she couldn’t keep her eyes off the man sitting with her son, drinking his beer, telling stories that made her son laugh until he was doubled over, a smile across his entire face.

Besides David and Will, Henry had never taken an interest in a man the way he had with Killian. Emma had to admit there was something about him that had captivated her as well. He looked up and her eyes locked with his. She smiled softly, the corner of his lips turning upward in return.

A noise knocked her from her trance as she looked up to see her brother clanging his glass with a fork. “Excuse me, if I could have your attention please.” He jumped up on one of the tables and pointed toward her as Graham stood up next to her. “My best friend, Graham has a few words he would like to say.”

Emma looked up, watching with apprehension as Graham turned toward her. For some reason it made her stomach wretch with anxious energy. “Emma…” He started to speak, and Emma felt her entire body tense. “I know we haven’t dated a full year yet, but these have been the best nine months of my life.”

No, no, no, no, no, this can’t be happening.

Emma could barely see Graham’s face with the way her vision was starting to blur, not from tears of joy but from panic.

“And there is nothing I want more than for you and Henry to be a part of my life permanently.” He bent down on his knee and Emma felt like vomiting. She looked around the room at the happy faces staring at her, and she turned desperately trying to find her son. Henry was standing alone at the table he was previously enjoying time with Killian at.

His face was solemn, ghastly almost as he watched the scene in front of him in solitude. Killian was nowhere to be seen.

“Will you do me the honor of being my wife?” Her attention turned back to Graham, kneeling in front of her, holding out a shimmering ring toward her.

She didn’t know how to speak. Her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth, but Emma knew that the sick feeling in the bottom of her stomach should not be there in the middle of something that was supposed to be a happy moment.

“Emma?” Her eyes jerked up to meet Grahams.

She wanted to say yes and embrace him with joy. She wanted to let him know that she would be happy and taken care of for the rest of her life with Graham by her side. She wished more than anything that his question made her the happiest woman on the planet. Graham was good to her. He would be a good husband; he would love Henry as his own. He was a good man.

Emma knew the words she needed to say, she rehearsed them in her head. She was lucky, she was blessed to have someone like Graham want to marry her and take care of her son, yet when she opened her mouth, the words would not come out.

“Graham…” She said softly. “I…” She reached out and cupped her hands around his outstretched palm, closing his fingers around the ring. “I can’t.”

~*~

Killian stopped in the stairwell, leaning against the wall to calm his breathing. He knew he shouldn’t be so affected by the proposal taking place on the rooftop. Emma had been with Graham since he met her, it was the natural order of things for normal people. People unlike himself. People who deserved to find everlasting love.

Emma deserved to be happy. Yet he couldn’t stop the aching pain in his chest the moment he watched the man drop down to one knee in front of her.

It was bad enough that the evening began with Will and Belle attending the festivities together. He was happy for Belle, and Will honestly, but it stung a bit to see her laughing and enjoying her time with the man. Had it not been for Henry, Killian would have felt completely alone tonight. Instead, Henry stayed by his side, asking him questions about his day, telling him stories about the latest movie he had watched.

But as soon as Graham dropped to his knee, Killian slipped into the shadows, retreating to the stairwell to make his exit. He didn’t belong up there, with her friends and family, celebrating the good news. He would allow her the moment in private.

As soon as he reached his apartment, he crossed the kitchen, opening his cupboard to pull the bottle of rum from its place. Instead of pouring the liquid into the glass, he titled the bottle into his mouth, the warm liquid burning its way to his stomach.

He dropped down onto his couch, the bottle tucked into his side, another night alone. He drank until sleep took him, golden blonde hair blowing on the bow of his ship, shimmering flecks of green dancing in the sunlight. She turned toward him, his name falling off her lips like a secret blowing in the wind.

Killian.

He sat up, a knock on his door pulling him from his dream. The empty bottle fell from his side, hitting the ground and rolling under the couch. He groaned, pulling himself up from his prone position and stumbling toward the door. Turning the handle, he cracked the door open, peering into the hall. His vision dropped down to see Henry staring up at him.

“Hey Killian, can we take Smee to the park?”

“Morning, lad, you’re up early!” He moaned, grabbing his head.

“It’s after one.” He laughed. “Did you just wake up?”

“A bit too much partying last night.” He opened the door, letting the boy in as he fished the dog’s leash from its spot on the counter. “A bit of sunshine might do me good.”

“Did you hear that Smee, we’re going to the park.” The dog jumped excitedly around the boy and Killian felt another ache in his chest. Surely the boy would still want to spend time with him after his mother married. He didn’t realize how much he enjoyed the boy’s presence until the thought of losing it presented itself.

“Are you ready?” Killian smiled and opened the door, letting the boy take the leash and following him out the door.

They walked to the park, Henry talking rapidly about a game he wanted to play later, as Killian realized he had just placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder as they walked. It was a gesture so simple and pure, yet he had never had such a kinship with a young kid before.

“So maybe we could play on Wednesday night now. You know because mom won’t be doing that anymore.”

Killian realized he hadn’t heard a word the boy had said. “Sorry lad, what is it your mom won’t be doing on Wednesday?”

“Date night with Graham.”

“Henry, just because your mom is getting married, doesn’t mean that date night stops, it just means they happen more frequently, at home.” He chuckled.

“But my mom isn’t getting married.” He stopped walking and looked up at him.

“What are you talking about, Henry. I was there for the news last night.”

“You mean when she broke it off with Graham?”

“She did what?”

Henry shrugged, “Yeah after she turned down his proposal, they had a long talk and mom came to my room and told me that she and Graham had decided to stop seeing each other. She was afraid I was going to be upset about it, but honestly, she made the right choice. Graham isn’t her true love anyway.”

Killian just stared at the boy; Emma turned down Graham’s proposal. He shouldn’t care, it shouldn’t make him as happy as he’s feeling right now, yet it was the only thing he could say for certain. Nothing made him happier than knowing that Emma had rejected Graham’s proposal.

It was ridiculous, it meant that Emma was alone, just as he was. Technically he was free to pursue her, free to finish what had been started twice before with their kiss. There was nothing standing in the way of him having her, tasting her, taking her the way he had dreamed so many nights before.

But Emma was different than other women he had bedded. She wasn’t a one-time thing. And just as with Belle, Emma deserved better than one night in bed with him. She deserved love, a home, a relationship. Things he couldn’t offer her.

“Do you like my mom?”

Killian’s eyes grew wide. “Of course, I like your mom, she’s my friend.”

He laughed. “That’s not what I meant. I mean, do you like her, like her. You know, as a girl.”

“I think your mom is a lovely woman, lad.”

The boy smiled up at him, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “So, you like her.”

Killian chuckled, “Alright lad, let’s get you home before your mom starts wondering where you are.”

“I’m going to take your answer as a yes, because you didn’t actually say no.”

“Let’s go.” Killian turned the boy back toward the apartment, unable to keep the smile off his face.

~*~

The path led to a small cottage, smoke billowing from the fireplace. Killian grabbed the Princess by the hand, pulling her back and pointing to the back of the home. “Shh, let’s go to the back.” He whispered into her ear.

They snuck around the back, peering into the small window. The Princess put her hand to her mouth as she saw her son sitting on a small bed in the middle of the room. She felt the Captain put an arm around her shoulder. “Stay here.” He whispered, his breath hot against her ear. She silently protested, grabbing his arm as he turned to leave, breathless groaning as he turned back to her. “What?” He almost pouted.

She grabbed him by the arm, yanking him down under the window as Baelfire walked toward the glass pane. His body pressed into her, her face in his chest as she cowered to the ground. She could feel the heat radiating from his body as he looked down into her eyes. A slight nod to address her quick action that had saved them from being spotted.

“Go around front, I’ll stay back here in case they try and leave through the back.” She whispered.

“Take this.” He handed her a small dagger, pressing it into her hand. “Be careful, love. I do not wish to see you harmed.”

He crawled to the side of the wall, standing, and making his way to the front of the cottage. She peered through the window just in time to see the wooden boards burst to pieces and Captain Jones appear in the wake of their destruction.

“I have come to take you in, by order of the King.” She heard him announce, she stood, making her way to the back door.

“You will not take my son from me; his mother will pay for keeping him from me.”

She pushed through the door, startling everyone in the cottage. Baelfire turned quickly, grabbing Henry, and pressing his dagger to his throat. “Was expecting you, Princess.”

“Let him go, he’s innocent.”

“Did he know about me?”

“No, I told him you were dead. It was the same as being abandoned, thrown away.”

“You had no right. He’s mine, together he and I can make twice as much as I do now.”

“Unhand the lad.” The Captain’s voice boomed over the Princess and the Swan Thief’s argument.

“Moved on, did you?” Baelfire taunted. “You can’t replace me, Princess.”

The Princess watched as Captain Jones crept closer to her son. The dagger was piercing his skin and Emma felt desperate to get to him. Just as Emma was about to press her blade to Baelfire’s back, Captain Jones nodded to her boy, lunging forward as Henry ducked and knocking the man onto his back.

“I had it under control.” Emma complained.

“I told you to wait outside.” The Captain argued.

Henry watched in amusement as his mother stood arguing with the man who had just saved his life. His father knocked out cold at their feet.

Henry bounded into his apartment to find his mother sitting on the couch, staring at the television which was currently turned off.

“Hey mom.”

She jumped from her spot and turned toward him. “Henry, did you enjoy your walk?”

“Yup, we took Smee to the park.”

“That’s great.” She said turning back toward the television with a frown on her face.

“Are you ok mom?” He sat down next to her on the couch.

“I’m fine, it’s just been a long week.”

“Are you sad about Graham?”

“I’m sad that I don’t feel sad about Graham. Does that make sense?” She said with a laugh.

“Yeah. I mean, I liked Graham, but he wasn’t right for you. He’s not your true love.” He said wistfully.

“Oh Henry, real life isn’t like your fairytales.” She ran a hand through his hair.

“Not if you don’t believe.” He replied.

Henry paced in his room that evening, everything seemed to be working out perfectly. Belle was with Will now; Graham and his mother were finished. Killian and Emma were free to be together. He knew they liked each other, it wasn’t hard to see the way they looked at each other or how calm and free his mother was when he was around.

But now they were both free to admit their feelings, and yet neither of them seemed prepared to do so. If only he could get them to be honest with each other. If they just had a moment alone where neither one of them could deny how they felt.

Henry paused in his pacing, a smile coming to his face. Slipping from his room he snuck into the hallway, he could hear the shower water in the bathroom, his mother singing quietly in the shower. Pushing his mother’s door open, he crept into her room, her cellphone charging on her nightstand. He picked it up and quickly searched her contacts until he found what he needed.

E: I need to talk to you. Please meet me on the roof at 7pm tomorrow night.

After the message sent, he clicked the delete button, removing it from her phone and setting it back on her table.

Moving quickly, he slipped out of the apartment and knocked on Killian’s door. It opened and Killian stood in front of him in his bathrobe. “Lad, is everything alright?”

“Yeah I think I left my phone over here earlier. Can you help me look for it?”

“Aye, do you remember where you might have left it?”

“Maybe the bathroom, or the kitchen.” Henry looked around the room, scanning it for the phone when he saw it on the kitchen counter. “Yeah maybe you can check the bathroom and I’ll look around here.”

“Alright lad, be right back.”

Henry ran to the counter, picking up the phone and seeing the message from his mom. Typing quickly, he sent a reply.

K: I need to talk to you. 7pm, rooftop tomorrow. Please come.

He deleted the message and marked the one from his mother as unread. Putting the phone back on the counter, he yelled to the back of the apartment. “Found it.” He yelled down the hallway, holding up the phone he pulled from his pocket. “Sorry to bother you, it was on the counter.”

“Alright, well, glad you found it.”

“Thanks again.” He ran out the door and quickly snuck back into his apartment. Pausing in front of the bathroom to listen to the shower still running. He smiled as his mother sang.

Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars?

I could really use a wish right now, wish right now, wish right now.

A smile formed on his face. “Don’t worry mom, I’m going to make sure all your wishes come true.”

#skyline manor #stacy's fics #killian jones #emma swan #captain swan #captain swan modern au #captain swan fics #captain swan au

[apiratewhopines]

Thanks to @teamhook for the the eye candy :)

In the Offing

Chapter 16 — Heart of Darkness

Summary: In which our heroine buries multiple hatchets

Notes: This one gets a little gruesome!

Chapter 16 on AO3

“Some mistakes get made

That’s alright, that’s okay

In the end it’s better for me

That’s the moral of the story babe”

-Moral of the Story, Ashe

In the dead of night, her phone started ringing. Looking at the clock, she tried to shake off the fog that threatened to pull her back under. Reaching blindly for her cell and seeing the ID, she groggily answered, “What do you want, Killian?”

“Bloody hell, Swan! If I had known you would get in trouble the second I walked out, I never would have left,” he swore, words breaking with stress. She imagined his hair looked wild at this point if his voice was any indication. “Are you alright?”

“Finally got around to reading the paper, I see,” she replied without emotion as she shifted to sit up in bed. Unable to keep an accusation from seeping into her tone, she continued, “Yes, I’ve had a day to get used to the idea that I’m the most hated person in town but it’s nice of you to join the party. Better late than never I suppose.”

“Liam and I went out on the sailboat, we didn’t get back until a couple of minutes ago. Surely you don’t think I would have left you to fend for yourself if I had known,” he rebuked. When she didn’t say anything, he said grimly, “Or maybe that’s exactly what you thought. Love, you’ll not get rid of me that easily. Can I come over? As a friend.”

She hated that he felt like he had to clarify his intentions. Hated even more that she craved his presence. “No, I’m okay. I need to sleep. I...I’m glad you called though,” she confessed, too tired to maintain the facade that she didn’t care.

“Emma, please—”

“I’ll talk to you later,” she cut him off and hung up before she could change her mind. As much as it hurt, the lines between them were blurred enough without him holding her while she slept which is exactly what would happen if he showed up in the middle of the night. She was beginning to realize that a platonic friendship with him would be impossible. For them it would be all or nothing.

She drifted back to sleep and dreamed of the cottage. The sunshine softly illuminating the porch in the early morning, tiny feet running barefoot across the wood floors, laughter filling every corner of the home. She awoke hours later with a deep sense of peace that was foreign to her.

—

The seagulls squawked longingly as they flew back and forth across the marina docks in search of food left behind by visitors. Emma sat on the bench looking out at the ocean, the heat of the day warming the metal in a pleasant way. While she didn’t want to admit it, she knew she had come to this place in search of Killian.

Instead someone found her.

“I was hoping I would run into you soon,” Liam greeted her as he settled on the bench. As was his norm, he didn’t crowd or even look in her direction. His gaze was fixed out on the distant waves. The stony countenance that always graced his face, the one that used to irritate her so, had somehow changed into a soothing kind of companionship that she had missed.

“Well, you did and here we are. Two grumpy Bostonians stuck in a picturesque nightmare,” she commented, only half joking. She realized that even before their fight, she hadn’t really spent time with him in weeks. Sneaking a look out of the corner of her eye, she saw that the gash on his head was healing nicely, only a thin red line marking the place where the injury occurred. His arm was still in a sling and probably would be for a couple more weeks but he wasn’t as stiff as he had been. Still stiff of course, this was Liam Jones after all, but pompously so instead of painfully.

“Too right,” he agreed. “Although I think you might have gotten the worst of it.”

“Trip’s not over yet. Don’t jinx yourself,” Emma pointed out with a grimace. “Thank you for the transfer. I wasn’t sure you’d come through.”

“Have I ever not lived up to my end of the bargain, Emma? You did what you said you would, you found half the missing persons on our list, doing it admirably and with your normal tenaciousness. If I ever made you think I doubted your abilities or didn’t count you as important, I regret it. I didn’t bring you along as a...what did you call it? A pretty blonde distraction.”

“I haven’t given up, you know. I still want to help you. It’s only that my priorities have to shift for a while,” she told him. Saying that she needed to save her own skin first would have been too melodramatic but she trusted he understood what she meant. He usually did.

“What they printed in the paper was out of line,” he said heatedly. “It was a smear job and it means nothing. You aren’t alone, Emma. You have friends and we will sort this out. It is a fine tangle though.”

“I’m sure it was a shock to read about my past in the Storybrooke Daily Mirror. At least it was for me. There is a reason I like keeping to myself.”

“I knew about your past the second time I talked with Henry, lass,” he laughed. “I think he was feeling me out as a potential suitor. The hope of youth is vast and diabolical.”

Chuckling because that sounded exactly like something Henry would do, she reached out and lightly slapped his shoulder. “Don’t get any ideas. I’m too good for the likes of you, even with a criminal history and fresh charges pending.”

“Aye, you’ll get no argument from me,” he agreed. Clearing his throat uncomfortably, he muttered, “Speaking of women who are too good for me, Elsa and I are getting married this Saturday.”

Eyes wide, she gaped at him in surprise. The tips of his ears were a faint pink and his lips had softened into a satisfied grin. “I don’t know what to say. Congratulations! That’s really fast.”

“Or really slow depending on how you look at it,” he responded. “I’ve loved her for years and I don’t want to wait another minute. Her sister will be in town on a short break for the holiday so we decided it was the perfect time. We want you to be there. After all if it weren’t for you, I’d still have my head stuck up my ass.”

Snorting, she nodded. “That’s probably true. Honestly, I thought you were an incurable case so I guess you deserve some credit too. But Liam, I’m not sure it’s a good idea. I have this shooting hanging over my head and people will talk. I don’t want to detract from your day.”

“Hang them. Have I ever cared what people thought? The whole town will be there whether they are invited or not so what better way to show our solidarity.”

Forcing herself to be truthful, she added, “Things between me and Killian are...unsettled. He might be uncomfortable if I show up.”

Looking at her for the first time, his eyes crinkled in a way that was reminiscent of his brother. “No kidding. His moping around the house and general state of sullenness were my first clues. Trust me, he won’t mind.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he’s smitten with you. Has been since the moment we stepped foot in town,” he said in a voice that made it clear he thought it was obvious. Smiling out at the horizon, he explained, “Killian has taken to you in a way I’ve never seen before. In the interest of fulfilling my role of wing man, I have to confess that he was on me to tell you about the map and treasure from the minute we made it back to the cottage after the accident, long before you had formed an attachment. I’m sure he’ll give you plenty of reasons to be angry with him in the future but place the blame for this one where it belongs. Squarely on me.”

“I think I may have already burned that bridge,” Emma declared, her smile a sad answer to his.

“Good that my little brother is an excellent swimmer then,” Liam countered, standing up and facing her. “Come to the wedding. Then we’ll get back to work.”

—

Emma walked into the loft several hours later discouraged and annoyed. Having spent a good part of the afternoon at the docks, she decided to stop off at the hospital on the way home to check on August. It was there that the full import of her situation hit her. The ICU staff followed her every move, never leaving her alone with her friend as if they were afraid she would rip out his heart with her bare hands as soon as their backs were turned.

So much for innocent until proven guilty.

Mary Margaret’s sunny smile welcomed her as she stepped across the threshold. “Emma, you just missed Killian. He’d been waiting for you for hours.”

“Hmm” was her only reply. As much as she might want to see him, after her chat with Liam she wasn’t sure she was ready to. There were things she needed to settle in her own mind before she interacted with him again. It wasn’t fair to keep jerking him around. She was going to have to pick a path and stick to it. The problem was her mind was set on one direction and her heart was urging her in another.

“Uh oh, I know that look,” Mary Margaret commented. “You’re reverting.”

Amused in spite of the dark turn of her thoughts, Emma asked, “Reverting? What do you mean?”

“You’re pulling on that armor of yours and you’re readying for battle. Am I right?”

“I’m tired. That’s all. The hospital staff clearly believes everything they read,” she explained while moving into the kitchen to get something to drink. “It’s one thing to think someone capable of murder but it’s another to think they would be stupid enough to do it in broad daylight in a well monitored hospital room.”

“Most people are too wrapped up in their own lives to question the things that people present to them as facts,” she observed sagely. “Regardless, I know what you need to get out of this funk.”

“Do you? And what would that be?”

“We’re going out for a girl’s night. I’ll call Elsa and Ruby. We’ll get dressed up and we’ll show the town that they are wrong about you.”

“I’m not sure there is enough makeup in the world to change their opinions now,” Emma joked, not completely averse to proposal. “I’m also not sure I’m ready to see another story in the paper about how I callously partied my way through Storybrooke while August is on his deathbed.”

“It’s Storybrooke, Emma. How much trouble do you think we could get into? I’m not suggesting an orgy. It’s dinner with people who care about you. Maybe a few drinks.”

Nearly spitting out her orange juice when the word orgy slipped from Mary Margaret’s mouth, Emma shook her head in disbelief and teased, “What in the world has David been doing these last couple of days? You know when I met you, I would have sworn that you didn’t know any four-letter words.”

“Well now I know all of them,” she joked back, her cheeks flushing and eyes dancing with the deep emotion that only comes from being in love and being loved thoroughly and repeatedly. “Get changed. I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Hours later, Emma had to admit she was glad she didn’t put up too much of a fight. Elsa and Ruby rounded out their merry little band quite nicely, the cool elegance of the former a stark contrast to the vivid earthiness of the latter. Overall they were a nice blend of independent, intelligent women who, for whatever reason, seemed to have her back.

She also appreciated that they were giving the topic of her brief arrest a wide berth. There was no better way to kill a buzz than to give into harsh realities. They kept the conversation light, discussing Elsa’s imminent wedding and Mary Margaret’s newfound saltiness. Ruby sighed and said, “Everyone is pairing up. It’s about to be nothing but babies and boringness. Then Emma will leave and nothing exciting will ever happen again.”

“That’s me, the bringer of excitement,” Emma commented dryly as her phone vibrated. Seeing that Henry was calling, she excused herself and went to stand outside so she could hear him. She watched a steady stream of people make their way into the bar as Henry begged to fly into town for Liam’s wedding. Figuring her son’s well-informed status must have come from the man himself, she laughed at his logical arguments for the last minute trip. Starting with the ability to celebrate the holiday with her and ending with meeting her new friends, he laid out his reasons as if he were forty instead of ten.

She hadn’t realized the individuals she had met since her arrival had trickled into their conversations so much but the casual way he referred to half a dozen people he had never met drove the point home. Tempted as she was to give in to his earnest and well-thought out pleas, she did not think it was a good time for a visit. She needed to clear her name first. Explaining that there would be time to meet everyone later and promising to send pictures of the ceremony, which effectively made the decision for her about attending, she ended the call and leaned back against the outer wall.

She heard gravel crunching under footsteps before she heard his voice. “Fancy meeting you here,” Graham said as he approached her.

“This is where all the cool kids hang out apparently,” she remarked, turning toward him. “How are you doing, Sheriff?”

“I’ve been better,” he admitted, stopping a couple of feet away and taking up a similar position against the wall. They stood there in silence for several minutes, neither one sure what to say now that they were alone and not interrogating each other. “The forensics came back. The gun was wiped clean. No prints.”

“Dead end then,” she observed, not particularly surprised. If it had been that easy, the guy would have already been caught.

“Not quite. You’d be surprised at the number of criminals who wipe the weapon and completely forget about the bullets. We pulled a partial off one. No hits yet but it definitely doesn’t match Liam’s or yours. They are also analyzing an unusual substance they found on the rags. We may still get lucky.”

“So, what does that mean?”

“It means you are no longer my prime suspect, Emma,” Graham explained with a small smile. “You can go back to hating me with a clear conscience.”

“I never hated you,” Emma argued, sheepishly looking at him from under her lashes. “I just didn’t trust you.”

Laughing softly, his lilting voice carried to her with a hint of delight. “I do love how direct you are.” Gazing into her eyes searchingly, he asked with a quirked brow, “Why is that? What did I do within minutes of meeting you to put you off me so completely?”

“You lied,” she said simply. Returning his searching glance, she took in his handsome face and lean body. In another time or place, if things had been different, she wondered if there would have been something between them. The odd tension stretched around them, forming a little bubble where the outside world didn’t exist. Deciding she had nothing to lose, she asked, “What were you really doing in the woods the night of our accident?”

“Clever girl,” he complimented her with a wink that showed he was teasing rather than patronizing her. With a shrewd look, he asked her, “Do you trust me now?”

“I think you’ve earned a little faith from me,” she replied, curious about the sudden shift in his demeanor. “Why?”

“It might be better if I show you,” he said mysteriously. A second later, her hand was clasped in his and he was pulling her toward his cruiser. “Let’s go.”

Sending a text to her friends to let them know something had come up and she wouldn’t be rejoining them, she buckled herself into the passenger seat and questioned humorously, “Are you taking me to the wolf’s den?”

“There really have been complaints about wolves,” he defended. “Although they are more likely to be coyotes in this area. But you’re right. I wasn’t being honest because I wasn’t sure what I had found. This town has a violent history and this particular investigation I’ve been keeping under wraps. I haven’t even told Nolan about it.”

“So why me? Why now?”

“I don’t know, Emma,” Graham responded truthfully. “There’s something about you. I’ve always been on your side, you just didn’t want to see it. I have a feeling you’re going to be the one to solve everything.”

“Everything is a tall order,” she groused. “I’d settle for finding who shot August.”

They fell into silence as the buildings gave way to trees. In no time, they were approaching the to town line. They emerged from the cruiser at nearly the exact point Liam’s SUV had left the road. With a dubious look at her sandals, he said, “You going to be okay for a walk?”

Mimicking his doubtful glance, she countered, “Are you offering to carry me the whole time?” Before he could say anything, she stepped off the pavement and ordered, “Lead the way.”

Even with the high-powered police flashlights, it was slow going in the inky darkness of the night with the overgrown forest floor threatening to trip them with every footfall. They had probably been hiking arm-in-arm for about thirty minutes, Emma having given up the pretense of making it on her own shortly after they started. “Are you taking me to our crash site?”

“I’m taking you to a crash site,” he corrected. Huffing a bit and wishing she had gone with jeans rather than a dress, she nodded. Then, there was a break in the trees and she could barely make out the charred remains of a sedan.

Pulling away, she carefully circled the burned out car. The light bounced eerily off the blackened metal and with only a slight hesitation, she flooded the front seat with the beam. Letting go of a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, she was relieved that it was empty. She really hadn’t been looking forward to finding any more skeletons in Storybrooke. “Who do you think it belonged to?”

“I don’t have to think, I know,” he assured her. “The car was registered to the city. It was reported stolen about twenty-eight years ago.”

“Someone stole city property, took it for a joyride, crashed it, and burned the car to hide the evidence?”

“Perhaps.”

“There’s something you haven’t told me, isn’t there?”

“You do have a knack for ferreting out the truth, Emma,” he respectfully observed. “It would be nice to have you around to help out the department from time to time.”

“Don’t get attached,” she warned seriously. “I’m merely passing through. What else have you found?”

“Follow me,” he directed, taking her arm lightly in his grasp to steady her as they moved deeper into the woods. Less than a quarter mile away from the car, they came upon an abandoned cabin. Flashing her light through the grimy windows, she detected no sign of movement.

Graham entered the one room cabin first and flicked on the light switch. A couple of the bulbs were still working and a dingy, yellow glow filled the room. It was then that she saw the blood stains on the small bed pushed against one wall. Her flashlight continued to trail around the room, illuminating several more bloody rags strewn on the floor. “What the hell happened here?”

“I can’t be sure,” he answered, steadying her again as her knees buckled a little at the overwhelming sight. “If it’s too much, we can go outside. You’ve seen everything there is to see now.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” she told him, taking slow breaths in through her nose. “What do you think happened?”

“I think someone had a baby.” He watched her reaction as if concerned she might pass out. Honestly, his fears weren’t totally unfounded. “I’ll spare you from reviewing the evidence that led me to that conclusion since you’re white as a sheet and look like you could double over at any moment.”

“Why haven’t you processed the scene?”

“I’m waiting for the state lab to come. Emma, something happened in Storybrooke decades ago, something that is having a ripple effect to this day. I don’t trust that we’ll find answers locally. I’ve been doing what I can to comb through records regarding pregnancies around that time but it’s slow going with the privacy laws and the fact that I doubt there was a birth announcement for this particular baby.”

“I think I can help you there.” Exhaling shakily, she hurried outside. She heard him come up behind her and didn’t resist when he wrapped his arm around her shoulders as if to funnel some of his strength to her. “I’m positive that Eva Blanchard had her baby in that cabin, Graham. I’m also sure that if we continue searching, we’ll find her and Leo’s body somewhere around here. Maybe the baby’s as well.”

Feeling sick, she didn’t protest as he pulled her closer and began the trek out of this grisly corner of the forest. He didn’t question how she knew the things she knew and didn’t pressure her to talk, merely nodding at her in thanks when he dropped her off outside the loft.

That night, her dreams were anything but peaceful.

[ryik-the-writer]

Sequel to Dinnertime Disaster ~ Belle confronts Snow on her behavior towards her family and finally gets some things off her chest.

[A03]

Age of the kids: Around 23

-.-.-.-.-

Belle angrily shelved a cart of returned books, stuffing them beside each other without care to their catalog numbers.

It had been three days since her disastrous dinner with the Charmings and her blood was still boiling after Snow White’s attack on her son. Three days since her son ran off and hadn’t told his parents where he was going or when he was coming back. Three days that her daughter revealed her secret ability and barley spoken a word since.

Even her husband was quieter than usual. Belle assumed he was keeping himself distracted to prevent himself from wreaking havoc on the princess-turned-bandit, and possibly keeping tabs on Gideon, but it still felt like she was dealing with the aftermath alone.

Snow White had destroyed the foundation of her family in a matter of seconds and Belle had yet to be able to piece it back together.

Belle remembered the last time she felt this hate-filled and lost: when she had sent Rumple over the town line after his attempt of murder on Killian. She regretted it the second Rumple was over the line, but she’d been too heart-broken to bring him back. She had tried to convince herself that she was doing what was best for the town and even herself, but deep in her bones she knew she was doing it because she was hurt, because the one person she thought she could always trust had just spat on their vows, and she needed space.

And she did get space…from her rejected husband as well as the very people she’d helped save. For three days she had sat in the home she and Rumple shared, sobbing and tearing apart the remains of the life they had begun to build. Not once did the Charmings or even Hook—whom she would find out through a loose-lipped Leroy had been black-mailing her husband mere days after their wedding—stop by to check on her well-being. In fact three days later, when she managed to pull herself together long enough to get an on-the-house bowl of soup at Granny’s, she found the Charming clan laughing and carrying on at a table in the back, only noticing her once she was leaving.

It was a minor sin, Belle thought at the time, but it wasn’t until a year later, when she and Rumple renewed their vows—when she became a mother and nearly lost her dear son to an unquestionable evil—when the heroes she fought for, and sacrificed over, were dead-set on killing him—that she was able to realize that the sins against her were too great to ignore any longer.

They had left left in the hospital to rot after Killian’s attack, scared and delirious with amnesia, drugging her over and over again to keep her tame.

Snow White had sold out her and her unborn child to save Killian’s skin—and none of them had bothered to warn her of the impending danger.

And they all made the decision to leave her to rot in the Underworld after she put herself in an ill-advised sleep to protect her baby—gods she would never forget the look on Emma’s face when she popped into Granny’s. They had completely forgotten about her.

And that was on top of the constant blackmail, of using her as an inanimate object to be tossed around and trampled on and crushed as long as it benefited them.

By the time her son had been restored to her, she was willing to let go of all the misdeeds done towards her, to begin anew just as Gideon’s life had been.

But then they started up all over again.

Inquiring her services to babysit Neal and Robyn at every drop of a hat—only to ignore her requests for assistance with Gideon whenever she needed it.

Sneering at Gideon from afar.

Leaving all of them out of ‘family’ events, like dinners or parties.

It hurt, but Belle had buried that pain for Neal and Robyn’s sakes. They were what mattered. They were her family.

And now half of that equation was gods knows where, angry and hurting from his own mother’s backwards thinking—and as his unofficially godmother, Belle couldn’t help him.

She knew where he was of course. A quick spell on Rumple’s end determined that he and Gideon were still in Storybrooke, though keeping their distance.

Giving them their space was the hardest part. As a mother all she wanted to comfort her son, but she needed to let him grieve and think on his own.

If the other night hadn’t happened, maybe he would be.

The thought was still on her mind when the door to her library opened despite the closed sign, and festered into hate when the one woman in the world she didn’t want to see stepped in.

“Belle, good morning,” Snow White greeted with her usual bright smile. Though there was more stress in her eyes.

“We’re closed,” Belle said, pushing the cart towards the children’s section, her anger boiling when she heard her follow.

“We need to talk about the other night,” Snow said, her tone indicating there was no room for argument. “More importantly, where our son’s go from here.”

Belle released the cart, letting it roll until it crashed into a shelf. “I have nothing to say to you, and what our sons do is their business.”

Snow rolled her eyes. “I knew you’d act this way.”

Belle slammed a book down on the cart. “Like what, Snow? Like a parent or like someone with common sense.”

“I wouldn’t call you that,” Snow muttered, and Belle twisted around.

“You know what, this has gone on long enough.” Belle said. For yours there seemed to be this balancing act between her and the ex-princess. There was this intense acidity between them, far from a rivalry, but constant enough that they subconsciously tried to outwit each other as mothers and as leaders in Storybrooke.

But there was something more personal there, a phenomenon that divided yet bounded them together for life: darkness.

Snow feared and hated it, convinced that it went against everything she was meant to represent as a hero.

Belle accepted it as part of her life, as a part of her husband and son’s very existence. She hated it as well, but she greeted it with respect, knowing light could not exist without it.

It was in her and her family, and Snow hated that. She hated that her own child didn’t seem to mind it.

But Snow was without reason when it came to darkness, or at least anything that was darker than her.

Maybe the former princess didn’t know it yet, but Belle was just that.

“You,” Belle snarled. “Are a pious bitch and I am so sick of you.”

Snow’s eyes widened but Belle didn’t back down.

“You need to drop your issues with me and my family right now,” Belle directed coldly. “We have done nothing but been civil to you for the past two decades, but all you’ve ever done is stick your noses up at us and the other night was the final straw!”

Belle didn’t back down. She stepped up to the ex-bandit and pointed a finger at her, aiming for her heart.

“You act like your better than us, than me, than everyone in this town, but you’re lower than everyone! People may love you, but they don’t respect you because you have done nothing to earn respect! You endanger them without warning, leave them in the grips of an enemy without a leader! And that’s just the town! What about your family?”

“How dare—”

“Didn’t you ever wonder why Neal came to our house so often?” Belle inquired—begged—Snow White. “He didn’t feel comfortable around you! He felt constricted, like he had to be the son of Snow White and Prince Charming, not the son of his parents.”

Snow shook her head, staring at Belle in disbelief.

“You’re lying. He never said any of this. He never—”

“Why do you think that is?” Belle spat.

Snow’s eyes searched Belle’s face, hunting desperately for the answer that she knew.

She gulped, nodding her head just slightly as her chin wobbled.

“Fine,” she admitted through clenched teeth, her pride settling. “Maybe I did push him too hard. But everything…” she looked at Belle squarely. “Everything I did was to protect him from the likes of you.”

Belle flinched at the way the last word came out, like the tension in the Charming home was somehow her fault.

“Likes of me? Are you referring to me particularly or my family? And I suggest you tread carefully on what you’re about to say.”

“The likes of filthy, dark-hearted cowards,” Snow answered unafraid. “You think I put too high standards? Well you’re right, I did. Because my son is better than you! All of you! You and your…your…”

Belle’s eyes narrowed. “Say it.”

“Your darkness!” Snow said, the word coming out as a gasp. “That darkness…Rumplestiltskin’s darkness…it keeps destroying my life no matter how many times we snuff it out! I wish it would just die already!”

Belle’s heart dropped. So this was how the great Snow White really felt. She rather see them all dead than coexist with them.

“And what about your daughter?” Belle snarked. It was a low blow, and if she wasn’t so mad the words would have never left her mouth. “What about Emma’s darkness? Do you hate that too or does that get a pass from the great Snow White.”

“My daughter’s the Savior,” Snow remarked. “She’s the exact opposite of you.”

“Really? Because if I recall correctly, her potential for darkness was so great you cursed an innocent baby and her mother to boot.”

Snow’s glare wavered. “That was—”

“Sick.” Belle answered. “And you know what? It didn’t change a damn thing? Emma still gave into darkness, still made all the wrong choices that came with it.”

“Emma accepted darkness to save us after your husband tried to destroy all of us!” Snow fought.

“I wasn’t referring to the Dark One’s curse,” Belle stated matter-of-factly. “I was referring to the darkness that has been brewing inside her all her life. The darkness she built to protect herself from everyone who ever hurt her. Baelfire, Rumple and you.”

“Everything I ever did was to protect her!” Snow yelled, her voice cracking. “And I did everything I could to be a good mother—a good friend—to her afterwards!”

“By letting her be with a man who lied to her? Who endangered her family, her son?” Belle retorted. “You led her down the aisle into his arms after finding out he killed David’s father, an event that left him scared. You made him push it aside so you could have your day. Emma didn’t need to get married, Snow, she needed to heal from everything that had happened to her. She needed her mother to listen!”

“I just…she needed…”

“And now she’s in some realm where her family can’t see her,” Belle continued, unable to stop. “Neal was right, you didn’t protect her the way you should have. You were so obsessed with making up for the moments you missed with her that you didn’t care that she was doing everything she did because she was traumatized! How could you not see that as her mother!”

That seemed to be the trigger, the anchor that had been weighing down Snow White’s grief. The woman’s chin began to shake and within a few seconds she was screaming in hysterics.

Belle actually had to jump back, the volume of her cries so loud they threatened to blow out her own hearing.

She watched in horror as the ex-princess crumpled in her library, the door still askew.

Belle stepped over her just enough to close it and allow them true privacy. She could only stare down at her for a moment, this once majestic leader who was nothing but a lump of sorrow at her feet.

Belle had been cruel, she knew that, she felt the lump of guilt began to rise in her throat.

Snow White, despite her faults, was still human, and still healing from her own trauma.

Giving up her child, living nearly 30 years in a lie away from the people she loved, and trying to put back the pieces of her shattered life when she awoke.

Her progress was notable, forgiving Regina, staying by her family’s side during all the various events in the town. Maybe she hadn’t always been the wisest, maybe she’d even been selfish at some points, but she had been doing the best she could.

Belle sighed, leaning down to scoop the sobbing woman into her arms.

“There, there,” she comforted fruitlessly. “Come on.”

She led Snow to a chair behind her circulatory desk, practically dropping her there while she went into the kitchenette for tissues and water.

She returned with a glass and a less-than-comfortable roll of paper towels, handing one to the ex-princess awkwardly.

“Here.”

Snow calmed some, taking the course towel and wiping her red face. She breathed in shakenly, focusing on composing herself.

After a moment Belle grabbed a second chair and sat across from her, hesitating on what to do or say next.

She wasn’t sorry and she wouldn’t apologize, but she hated that Snow had to come to terms with her misdeeds and guilt in such a confrontational setting, and with her at that. Her own home or even Archie’s office seemed more appropriate.

But it was all in the open now, and Belle felt she had a duty to close the door she had snatched open.

“You’re right,” Snow sniffed before Belle could say anything. “I destroyed my family.”

“No,” Belle sighed. “I didn’t mean for you to see it like that.”

“But it’s true,” Snow said with a tired shrug. “I pushed Emma into something she wasn’t ready for and now I’ve lost her. And now I’m about to lose Neal too.”

Belle shook her head, wishing more than anything that he and her son were with them at that moment.

Belle thought about them for a moment, about the last two decades and the time before and all of its obstacles.

“You haven’t lost him,” Belle reassured, her fingers clasped. “I’ve lost a son. I know what if feels like when you realize they’ll never come back.”

Snow tilted her head. “You got Gideon back. You even got to start over with him.”

Belle lifted her head, staring glassily at the woman across from her. “I wasn’t talking about him.”

The confusion faded instantly from Snow’s face as the memory of the fallen man who had impacted both of their lives settled between them.

Belle smiled sadly. “Do you remember that day? When you entered the shop and you told us Baelfire died? You held me, and…that was the last time I felt like I really knew you.”

Snow wiped a fresh tear from her eye. “I didn’t know what to do after he died. All I could do was hold Emma and tell her everything was going to be okay even though I didn’t know if it was or not.”

Belle nodded, remembering how she spent that night in the shop, sobbing into the cot in the backroom until she passed out.

“That…that was the last time I truly felt like her mother,”

Belle blinked, surprised by such a reveal.

It was ironic really. The second she learned of Baelfire’s death was the last time she felt like she had a true friend. Someone else who loved the Dark One, gone.

“I wanted so badly to see her happy again,” Snow continued. “And Hook…he was there…and he…he…”

Belle nodded. “He made appropriate modifications to earn her affection.”

“And eventually he became her only ally because of me,” Snow said with an air of disgust. “Now I don’t even know where she is, how she is.”

Belle sighed. If Gideon ever disappeared like that it would break her.

“Snow,” Belle began. “I know all that’s happened to you is still hurting you. And you’re hurting Neal because of it.” She reached out and gave the woman’s hand a squeeze. “You need to face it all. I had to do the same when Gideon was taken. I had accept my part in hurting Rumple and my son so that I could have hope that we could start over.”

Snow shook her head. “I don’t know if I can. Emma, she…she doesn’t need me anymore.”

“That’s not true,” Belle fought. “Our children will always need us. We can’t fix the past, but we can build a better future.”

Snow could only stare at the woman in front of her. Belle had always been braver than her because she had more to lose. Loving the Dark One was a dangerous game and somehow she won it. Now she had a community that loved and respected her, the same community that looked at Snow White with hesitancy.

Snow had lost the leader they needed at some point, hell, the leader her own family needed.

Somehow, someway, she was going to get her back.

She stood, wiping her eyes a final time.

“I…I need to leave. I need to speak with my husband.”

Belle nodded, standing as well.

Snow moved forward, as if she were going to hug Belle, but Belle took a step back.

Thankfully, Snow seemed to understand. She had a lot to make up for and it would take time.

But really, she realized that Belle was perhaps her truest friend. She had held her accountable today, and had lifted a curtain from her eyes that had been there far too long.

“Good luck,” Belle said. And she truly meant it.

Snow paused outside the library, one last thought weighing on her mind.

“If you see Neal or Gideon before I do,” she began, hesitating a bit. “Could you tell them…they have my blessing?”

Belle tilted her head. It wasn’t quite an apology, but it was good start for the high and mighty ex-princess of Mist Haven.

Belle nodded and sent Snow away with a comforting smile.

They would never be friends, but they knew now where they stood. Belle would hold her with the same contempt that she held with Zelena, Regina and even Emma, but that would be it. Maybe one day that would change, but it was solid relationship for the two of them to have for now.

As Belle locked up the library that night, she felt lighter than she had in years, all the anguish she had felt free from her now.

She smiled a bit as she walked to her car.

She couldn’t wait to get home and tell her husband all about it.

0-0-0-0-0-0

Snow entered the little farm house she and her husband had bought decades ago when the moved out of their little loft apartment.

The house was supposed to be a haven for a new life, a fresh start when their most recent evil had been defeated.

She had imagined raising her son in those safe walls, giving him everything she hadn’t been able to give Emma. She imagined family dinners and quiet nights on the front porch after long, loud days.

She’d gotten all of that, at first, before Emma began to spend less time at the house, before Henry had jumped on his motorcycle and disappeared into the unknown.

She had told herself then that it was just a part of life, her family moving on, but then when Neal began to stray, her acceptance became a panic. She was losing her family, and she looked wrongfully for a scapegoat. The Golds fit the mold. After all, she’d blamed Rumplestiltskin for everything under the sun that had happened in Storybrooke and her family.

But Belle’s talk had lifted that blinder. Rumplestiltskin had made his mistakes and had set to work to fix them. He’d been a good friend to her husband and son all these years, and she’d been too enthralled in her grief to join in on that friendship.

But that was over now.

David looked up when she entered, concerned.

He’d felt…something…in his chest earlier today. Like a piece of the heart he shared with his wife had broken off.

It was unnerving, and if he hadn’t been looking for Neal, he would have ran and found his wife immediately.

He was still angry at her for her outburst at the Golds’ but she was still his wife. His best friend. His everything.

“Snow,” he greeted, relieved.

“We need to pack, a lot. I don’t know how long we’ll be gone.” She instructed, that buried leader insider he creeping back up.

“What?” David said. “Pack for what? What are we doing?”

The ex-princess put her hands on her husband’s shoulders, smiling bravely at him despite the tears in her eyes. He was the one thing she hadn’t lost yet, but she’d come so close, shared heart or not.

She’d hurt him without even realizing it, and she had so much to make up for.

But there’d be time for that.

There’d be time for everything now.

“We’re going to find our daughter,” Snow answered, determined. “We’re going to bring her home.”

#rumbelle fic #never unwanted #belle french #belle gold #snow white #mary margaret blanchard #ryik's fics