#but either way they'd dance so gently and with a sense of...down to earthness to those

[captainshyguy]

man i love finding songs that like..they might not hit the relationship dynamic lyrically, but you know the characters would dance to it together 

#birdtalker really hits this with leaf and quirrel #heavy and blue healer....oogh... #maybe one ofthem is having a rough day #maybe both of them.... #but either way they'd dance so gently and with a sense of...down to earthness to those #a little wonky #and feel just a little lighter at the end #funnily enoguh i think both songs lyrica and vibe wise fit lost and sound as a whole #*found not sound gkjdfnhdkf #anyway i think thats why #blue healer in particular also fits leaf and their arc when it comes to dealing with sadness and their emotions #luke rambles #my ocs #leaf

[rubysunnday]

your song | c.b

Summary: Being in love with Colin Bridgerton is hard when the man keeps running off to different continents for months at a time. But the letters he writes and the songs he sends keep the romance alive.

It had been six, long months since Y/N had last seen Colin Bridgerton.

He had gone off travelling again, disappearing off one night with nothing more than a kiss on the cheek goodbye and a promise to write.

The romance between Y/N and Colin had struck out of nowhere. One night they'd been dancing as nothing more than friends and the next moment, there was something more. The way his hands tightened on her waist whenever Cressida said something mean felt different. The way he wrote her notes with every bunch of flowers he sent read differently.

The way he took her hand as she stepped out a carriage, his fingers gently entwining with hers, felt different.

Y/N had fallen head over heels for a man who hated staying in the same place for more than a week. And it was annoying.

He'd written to her more than he had his own family. He wrote to her everyday, judging from the dates on his letters and they arrived in bundles from the postman, all tied with a ribbon that somehow managed to match the dress she was wearing that day.

In the dozens of letters Colin had sent her, he wrote down every detail of the place he was in from the sunsets to the colour of the postboxes. The friends he was traveling with were both music students, desperate for either a career break or to find a new purpose in life.

One of them, Freddy, has been teaching me about the beauty of song writing and how all great pieces of music begin. I'm nowhere near the grandure of Mozart or the beauty of Beethoven or any musicale we've ever attended, but I'm enjoying it nonetheless.

I've found that in my writings there's always one thing I can never quite describe correctly. I search through books for the right words that could even begin to do you justice, my dear Y/N, but I find none. There's no word for describing the way you watch a musicale, or the way you talk about art and reading. There's no word on earth that could do you justice.

So, I hope this poor man's attempt at a song, written under strict guidance and a watchful eye, will begin to convey, just how much I love you.

Y/N had read the letter over and over, her eyes scouring each and every line, taking in the sloppy slant of Colin's handwriting and how he smudged the ink in his desperation to write and write and write.

She pulled out the final sheet of the letter and let out a small surprised gasp. It was a piece of music, the notes written precisely and intricately, the lyrics written messily and scrunched up underneath it. It was obvious which part Colin had been trusted with.

To Y/N

Your Song - by Colin Bridgerton

Y/N stood up from her desk and walked over to the pianoforte that sat in the corner of her room, covered in a thin layer of dust. Y/N wasn't an expert on the pianoforte, her and Colin had bonded over their failed attempts at playing. Colin could sing, though. And as Y/N read through the lyrics, tentatively playing a couple of notes on her dust keys, she could hear him singing it, his hand in her hair as they watched the sunset from the garden bench at Bridgerton House.

Their romance had been kept quiet. The ton was used to the two being openly affectionate with each other, constantly hugging or holding hands and none of them realised when it turned from friendship to romance.

Y/N and Colin had sat in the rose garden of Aubrey Hall one summer night, the sounds of the ball drifting over to them along the gentle breeze. Colin had quietly begun singing along to the song, his hands gently tracing a dance on Y/N's bare arm as she rested her head on his shoulder, her eyes shut.

Colin's singing voice was beautiful. And as Y/N played the song he'd written for her, she could imagine him sitting beside her and singing along, his hands over hers as she slowly played the notes.

Attending the opera without him felt bizarre. They'd begun a routine of sitting next to each other in the box, sharing the opera glasses and softly commenting on the music, the costumes, the lighting.

Y/N sat down in the box, scooting her chair close to the balcony. Her mother sat down next to her and sighed happily as she took in the view.

"Isn't this lovely?" She asked, picking up her opera glasses and looking through them at the stage. "I do love a concert."

Y/N said nothing, merely nodded. She kept thinking back to Colin's letter, of his promised return home in time for the concert. In time for him to sit down next to her, take her hand, and whisper about the music.

Y/N glanced up at the box the Bridgerton's sat in and tried not to let out a defeated sigh - still no Colin. Francesca caught her looking and gave her a sympathetic smile along with a shake of her head and Y/N turned back to the stage, trying not to let the disappointment sink in.

The orchestra began warming up, the music notes blending in with the quiet chatter of the audience. Y/N couldn't stop her eyes from constantly scanning the audience, the stage, the boxes, for any sign of Colin.

An excited whisper went over the audience as the lights were dimmed and the lights on the stage that illuminated the thick, red curtain were turned on.

For a minute there was silence. And then the orchestra began playing as the curtain flew up, revealing the actors on the stage.

My gift is my song, and this one's for you

And you can tell everybody

Y/N felt her heart do a bizarre skip. She recognised those words. She'd read them over and over again each night before she went to sleep. The piece of paper they had arrived on was now well worn and creased and she'd meticulously copied out the notes and the lyrics for fear of loosing them.

She scanned the audience again and felt her heart stop. The concert faded away as she focused on the man standing in the corner near the side door, a tiny smile on his face.

Colin Bridgerton stood with his hands behind his back, smiling up at her, his chin covered in the stubble of a beard. He was tanner then before and his hair had gotten lighter but it was still Colin.

Her Colin.

You see I've forgotten, if they're green or they're blue Anyway the thing is, what I really mean Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen

Y/N giggled and felt a smile appear on her face as she gave Colin the smallest wave possible, not wanting to attract attention. Colin waved back and nodded to the door that led to the auditorium. Y/N nodded in return and watched Colin disappear out the side door.

"Go on, then," Y/N's mother said, tapping her daughter's knee. "Go find him."

Y/N quietly slipped from her seat and pushed open the curtain, blinking at the bright lights in the corridor.

As she made her way down to the auditorium, she could hear angry voices that were trying not to yell. She rounded the corner and saw Anthony, Violet and Benedict Bridgerton all standing in front of a bemused looking Colin.

"You said you'd be back by the concert!" Anthony hissed, clearly irritated by Colin's lateness.

"It's hardly my fault the train got stuck by a tree, is it, Anthony?" Colin asked, sighing. "I'm here now, however, am I not? Stop fussing."

Anthony went off again, flailing his limbs around as he tried to knock some sense into Colin, his mother trying to be the peace maker between the two as Benedict tried, and failed, not to laugh.

"This isn't funny, Benedict!" Anthony snapped, turning to face his other brother as he snorted.

Benedict's smirk faded as he realised he was about to be on the end of Anthony's rant. He sighed and crossed his arms, physically bracing himself as Anthony went off again.

Colin, looking both bemused and annoyed at his family, turned and spotted Y/N, hovering at the stop of the stairs. His face fell from an annoyed smirk into a stunned smile as he stared up at her.

"They're actually both," Y/N said to Colin, her voice quiet enough that the three other Bridgerton's present had yet to realise she was there.

"What are?" Colin asked, walking up to meet her, taking each step slowly.

"My eyes," Y/N replied, smiling, dropping the skirt of her dress. "They're both colours."

Colin chuckled and looked like he was blushing. "I told you I wasn't good at song writing."

"Everyone else seemed to enjoy it," she replied as she heard the audience applaud loudly.

"Because Freddy worked on it for months until tonight," Colin replied. "Even then he wasn't sure about performing it. If he'd performed the version I'd written the ton would be complaining. I'm not very good at it."

"I think you're better at it than you believe, Mr Bridgerton," Y/N said as she continued walking down until they were both on the large step that broke up the stairs. "I'm not sure about the beard, however."

"Why?" Colin asked, a hand subconsciously flying to his chin and running across the stubble.

"Well, it just means that every time I go to kiss you, I will have to be tickled and scratched by it," she replied, her hand covering the one resting on his chin. She entwined her fingers with his. "But I can live with that."

Colin laughed and leant forward, kissing Y/N with the passion and desperation of not seeing her for six months. His hand rested on the back of her head, carefully minding her hair as his thumb stroked her skin.

"I think I'm going to stay here for now," Colin said softly, breaking apart from her, resting his forehead on hers. "Stay with you."

Y/N looked up at him, feeling his breath on her cheeks. "Colin Bridgerton, are you -"

"Yes," Colin said, cutting her off. "I am. Because it took being apart from you for six months to realise what I was missing. To realise that I travel the world searching for purpose and reason, when, in reality, my reason is you. The purpose of my entire being is you.

"Without you, I'm half a man. Without you, the travelling begins to feel like running away and I don't want to run from you. I want to take your hand and run with you. Forever if we wanted. I can run until you can't run anymore. And when you can't run anymore, I'll carry you."

Y/N smiled, pressing her lips together as she savoured the taste of his kiss. "Words are your forte, Mr Bridgerton," she said softly, stroking the side of his head, threading her fingers through his curls. "I'll run with you to the end of the world and back again. I'll take your hand in mine and I will never let you go. Not again."

Colin pressed his lips to her and Y/N smiled against his lips before returning the kiss. He smelt of his cologne, the sweet caramel biscuits he loved and, somehow, the floral, homely scent of Bridgerton House

He smelt of home. He was her home. Simply being in his arms was enough.

"I've just realised something," Colin whispered in her ear.

Y/N looked up at him, staring into his eyes. "What?"

"My family is watching us."

Y/N glanced behind him and saw the three Bridgerton's pretending to occupy themselves with anything else. Benedict was investigating a painting, Anthony was admiring the ceiling and Violet had been reading the program but glanced up at them with a smile.

And despite it all, Y/N let out a snort of laughter and dropped her head on to Colin's shoulder. "Of course they are."

Colin giggled, actually giggled, and rested his head on top of hers. "Better get used to it, love, I doubt they'll ever stop staring."

#bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #colin bridgerton x reader #colin bridgerton imagine #colin bridgerton #bridgerton imagines

[doodlelolly0910]

Close Encounters of the Spiritual Kind

Summary: Emma Nolan spent a lot of time alone, and that was fine by her. Because one is never truly alone. She should know. She can talk to dead people. What she didn’t expect was one of these spiritual encounters to hang around, taking her down a rabbit hole of missing women, revenge, and, least expected, love. Can she save the day and Killian Jones? Is there even another choice?

Read it from the beginning on AO3 and FFN!

A/N: Sorry this is updating so late in the evening! I've had a super busy day! I'm not going to say much about this chapter, just that it's another turning point :P As always, thank you to @kmomof4 for her fabulous beta skills and for generally being an awesome person, and to @courtorderedcake for making the AMAZING artwork for this fic. Also thanks to you, lovely readers! I appreciate and adore you all! Hope you like the new chapter!

Chapter 15

Water sluiced over Emma's body in hot rivulets, working the weariness from her muscles and bones. The water had finally stopped pooling a brownish red at her feet as it washed away the blood on her skin and hair, now running clear. Milah's presence had died down after the discussion earlier. It must have been exhausting to remain at that level of contact for so long. Most encounters didn't even last a fraction of that time. And frankly, Emma was quite ready for a break. It was nice to have some privacy, especially since she wasn't even safe from Milah inside her head, although it seemed she only picked up on thoughts that she intended to speak but didn't.

Emma wasn't sure how long she'd been standing under the stream of seemingly unending hot water, but she was fully intent on taking advantage of the moment before she had to dive headfirst back into the craziness that had become her life.

Jefferson had heard about the explosion and connected the dots. He had been furious, demanding that Emma return to base, threatening to call Regina and pull the plug, but she had begged a week out of him. A week with Hook, working the angle they'd come up with. He was adamant that this was the worst idea she'd ever come up with, especially since Emma refused to provide him with Hook's identity (in the poorly concealed guise that she simply did not know it), but at least she didn't have to hide her new alliance from him.

Well, she may not have told him that her cover was blown where Hook was concerned, but what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. This was about Gold. Taking him down, once and for all. Both of them understood what calling off this op meant.

This was their Hail Mary.

She cranked the water off when her legs grew tired of standing, drying herself with a scratchy terry cloth towel, and moving to stand in front of the sink. There was a dingy mirror there and she wiped the steam from it to survey her appearance. She looked like shit.

Bruises mottled her skin, concentrated especially where she had collided full force with the earth on her hip and shoulder. Her head still felt like her heart was pounding directly inside it, but at least the nausea and blurred vision had died down. The ringing in her ears remained, though, a result of being so close to the explosion. Dark circles ringed her eyes, betraying exactly how much sleep she'd gotten in the last two weeks since this all started.

A soft knock sounded at the door.

“Swan?” Killian's voice asked gently through the thin particle board. “I have some clothes for you.”

Emma wrapped the towel around her, covering herself, and cracked the door. Hook's grin immediately widened at the sight of her, his eyes unabashedly raking over her barely concealed form and she rolled her eyes, snatching the bundle of fabric from his arm and slamming the door in his face again.

“No need for hostility, love,” his muffled voice teased. “Just appreciating the view.”

“You're about to appreciate my foot right up your ass,” she shot back, dropping the towel and aggressively yanking on the over large sweats he had given her, her muscles protesting the movement, and rolled them at the waist as they were about two sizes too big for her. She put her bra back on and pulled the (also too big) gray t-shirt over her head, hearing him chuckle on the other side of the thin barrier between them.

“If you say so, Swan,” he patronized, sounding slightly further away than before. Emma bristled at that, gathering her ruined clothes and flinging the door open with force, making it rattle on its hinges. She stomped her way into the small bedroom like room until she was standing in front of where he'd moved next to the queen sized bed.

“Let's get one thing straight, buddy,” she said, pointing a vicious finger in his amused face. “I'm here to do a job. Nothing else. So you can keep on looking, but this,” she motioned between them with her finger, “not gonna happen. Okay?”

Hook's expression didn't waver for a moment, holding her gaze so she could see the laughter dancing within the blue depths of his eyes.

“You're rather fetching when you're angry, has anyone ever told you that?”

Emma let out a noise that was half growl, half screech in exasperation and pushed past him, dropping her clothes with the rest of her things. She glanced at her gun and wondered briefly exactly how terrible it would be if it accidentally went off in the direction of his foot before retrieving the comb he'd set out for her and gingerly pulling the snarls from her towel dried hair. She braided her hair and tied it off with a rubber band she'd found sitting on the table next to the bed and sat on the mattress with a bounce, Killian's eyes on her the whole time.

“Okay, when I said you could keep looking, I didn't expect you to take it literally,” she said, not even turning to look at him.

“I'm a very literal person, Swan,” he replied lightly, moving towards her. “Are you almost ready to go? We'll stop by a shop I know and get you some clothes that fit, not that it doesn't speak to the primal male in me to see you in mine, and then we will get some supplies together.”

Emma stiffened and fought the urge to tilt her chin down to sniff the fabric covering her body to see if it smelled like him. Of course it would. She was in his damn clothes. He did this on purpose. She just knew he did.

“Yup,” she said, popping the ‘p’ at the end of the word. “Let's go.”

Emma was grateful that either Will or Killian had had the foresight to drive her car back to the compound. She needed to be the one that drove, needed to feel a little more in control. Less than an hour later, they were in a consignment shop in a quaint little part of the city that Emma had rarely been to. Of course it would be a second hand shop. Two spirits on the regular weren't enough to deal with.

“Time to make it a party, I guess,” Emma muttered under her breath and got out of the car. Killian was already waiting for her on the curb, his blue eyes watching her as she struggled not to wince getting out of her seat. She adjusted her oversized clothing and made her way towards him. She really needed to tell him what to expect in a place like this.

“Ready, Swan?” His voice interrupted her nervous thoughts and she blinked up at him, fighting the urge to chew on her nail.

“Uh, in just a minute. Before we go in there, this is a second hand shop, right?” she asked.

“Aye,” he replied, his brow furrowing as he tried to follow her train of thought. Emma bobbed her head once and looked down to her feet.

“Do you remember how I said Milah found me?”

“Something about a shirt? Wasn't it?”

“Ah, yes. Yep. See, I kinda have a thing about places like this. Sometimes the clothes that are donated belonged to people… well, people only I can talk to anymore…” she trailed off.

“Oh,” Killian replied, slightly surprised as he put the pieces of the puzzle together. “And these things are like a… trigger? When you're near them?”

Emma shook her head. “It isn't usually enough to be near them. I have to touch it. And suddenly I can see and hear things that no one else can. It's a little unsettling. And I've never experienced it with someone who, uh, knows about it.”

Hook seemed to weigh her words in his head, as if he were plotting the best course of action here. A slow, easy smile slipped onto his lips and he reached for her hand, tucking it into the crook of his bad arm and taking Emma completely by surprise.

“Well, I'll just have to touch the clothes first until you find something you like. We are shopping for knickers, aye?”

Emma snatched her arm back and slapped his shoulder, although it didn't come off nearly as aggressive as she wanted it to. She knew he was teasing and the thought of him handling her underwear… well, it was time to change the subject.

She marched past him, chin tilted up, and swung the door to the shop open. She gestured inside, allowing him to enter first with a mocking bow, mimicking his previous gesture from the compound.

Clothes shopping was a lot more fun with Hook than it was with Ruby, she found. He had made some genuinely helpful selections for her perusal, making it so she didn't even need to touch anything until she was sure she liked it. She didn't know how much she appreciated the gesture until it was actually happening.

It was a little strange how quickly Hook had flipped from staunch skeptic to making adjustments in his own behavior to accommodate for her “gift”, but it touched her in a way that no one else had been able to. She watched him as he jokingly held up items against his own chest on hangers, his tongue poking teasingly out of the corner of his mouth and laughed along with his jokes (even if her laughter was accompanied by a patented eye roll). She felt an overwhelming sense of comfort as they shopped and she was surprised to find the walls she had carefully constructed around her heart over the years slipping just the slightest bit. Killian Jones was unlike any man she had ever met, and, at least in this moment, she was glad to have him with her.

In the end, Emma ended up picking out two tank tops, a t-shirt, a sweater, and a pair of jeans and leggings, none of which (thankfully) sparked an encounter. Much to Killian's dismay, she did not get any underwear, but then she reminded him that they were in a second hand shop and, while they only accepted new in package items on that front, it was just a little much for her to consider.

“Does this mean you'll be going commando, then, Swan?” he murmured in her ear as they approached the cash register, his hand finding the small of her back with ease.

“Wouldn't you like to know,” she said with a bat of her eyelashes and she smirked as Killian's Adam's apple bobbed in his throat.

“Perhaps I would.” She heard him murmur as she approached the smiling red headed girl behind the counter. She flushed, her steady gait faltering for a moment, but she recovered herself quickly and smiled back at the cashier, loading her items on the counter.

“That'll be $38.57,” she said, packing the items into a bag for her. Emma dug in the pocket of her borrowed sweats for the money she had put there, extending the cash over the counter. The clerk's fingers swept over Emma's, the silver ring on her middle finger swiping over the flesh of her palm and Emma knew it was coming before it even happened.

Suddenly, she smelled fresh gingerbread and heard a voice she didn't recognize humming a song.

I love you, Addie, the voice said and Emma froze, her eyes blowing wide and she fought back the sudden shaking in her palm as she reached for her change.

“Have a good day!” the girl chirped, completely clueless to the inner turmoil Emma was having. Emma gave her a tight smile and said nothing, snatching the bag off the counter and bolting for the door as quickly as she could without looking completely mental.

She burst from the door and the encounter had all but faded away, the last remnants of baked goods still lingering in her sinuses, but she knew it, too, would be gone soon. She took several deep, calming breaths in the fresh air and let her heart rate return to normal.

“Swan?”

Killian. Shit.

She'd forgotten he was with her for a moment in her panic and she felt her heartbeat kick back up at the thought of having to explain her behavior to him.

Best to get it over with.

“Yeah?” she asked, turning to face him, her hands balled into fists at her side, making the plastic of the bag in her left hand crinkle.

“Are you alright, love? Did one of your… er… moments happen?” His voice was truly concerned and, instead of calming her, it only freaked her out more.

She nodded sharply, not meeting his eyes. “I think it was the clerk's grandmother maybe? I touched her ring,” she explained.

“That's…” here it comes, Emma thought, “amazing, love. Why didn't you tell her?”

If Emma's jaw could physically touch the pavement, she was positive it would have been scraping the concrete right about then. Killian was looking at her with such curiosity and fascination that it sent a thread of panic straight through her.

“Why didn't I tell her? Are you serious right now? What happened to ‘not this bit again’?” she snapped. Hook sighed.

“Look, Swan, I know I haven't been the most supportive of your… talents, and I won't deny that it is quite a shock to hear that someone you loved very much is still trying to reach you from the other side, but I…” he tapered off, stepping slightly closer to her and Emma held her breath. “If I can start to believe, anyone can. You can't expect people to believe you if you never tell anyone. You should tell her.” His eyes blazed into hers, willing her to take a leap of faith in herself, as he was with her.

Emma was sure she was going mad. Or he was. Maybe both of them.

"I am not a walking freak show! I'm not Sylvia fucking Browne, I'm not some foofy bullshit psychic bitch, and I just want to be left alone,” she ranted, flapping her arms at her sides. “I never asked to be this person. I just want to live my life! You have no idea what it’s like to feel crazy day in and day out, never knowing who you can trust enough to tell and I-"

Emma's mouth was still trying to move, spill over with reasons why, but it was hard to do with Killian's lips sealed against hers. She was shocked still, arms suspended mid air, interrupted in their wild gesturing, her mind overwhelmed with the thought of how perfect, how right this felt, and that was absolutely besides the point because Killian fucking Jones was kissing her. Her body finally caught up with what was happening and she pulled back, but his hooked arm had looped itself around her waist and held her fast to him.

"Please, darling, do shut up," he murmured only mere centimeters from her lips before her stunned psyche could formulate a response to the kiss at all. She felt anger boil in the pit of her stomach as she registered what he'd said, the sensation mixing with the fear and attraction already simmering there.

"You shut up," she growled, then fisted her hand in his shirt and slammed her lips back into his.

Kissing Killian Jones was unlike any other experience she had ever had in her life. His lips were softer than she expected, moving with expert precision over hers, his hand wrapping around the nape of her neck as his thumb stroked over her jawline. He nipped at her bottom lip and she opened for him on instinct, gasping at the first touch of his tongue to hers. He let out a soft little sound in the back of his throat that she might have missed, had they not been pressed so tightly together, and he tilted her head with a firm but gentle press of his fingers at her neck to kiss her more deeply. He kissed her like he would never get enough, stealing the very breath from her lungs until she felt like they were going to burst.

She pulled back when the need for oxygen became too much, still clinging to his collar like it was the only thing keeping her upright. Based on the slight sway in her balance when she broke away, it probably was. They stayed in each other's space in silence, save for the sound of their panting breaths intermingling in the air.

"That was..." Killian began, sounding completely wrecked. Emma released his collar and stepped back, blinking up at him and hopefully clearing some of the haze from her eyes. He looked just as wrecked as he sounded, his hooded eyes simmering with a dark heat, and she was sure she wasn't hiding her reaction all that well either. She needed to shut this down.

"Me shutting you up,” she filled in for him. He appeared confused for a moment and then a look of understanding swept over his features that made her heart clench tighter than it already was. “Let's get back."

She turned and began a stiff walk back to her car before she heard his soft murmur towards her retreating form.

“As you wish, Swan.”

#captain swan #cs ff au #cs ff #csff #cssns #close encounters of the spiritual kind #emma swan #captain hook #captain swan supernatural summer #killian jones #monday update #captain swan ff #chapter 15