#every day when they wake up they're a bit older and they wonder if they're dreaming their weird group

[belphegor1982]

One of these days I'm going to take the "Percy (mistakenly) low-key always thinks he's the only adult in the room" trope to its logical (ish) conclusion and throw the guy a Liam's Quest-shaped curveball. Like, the younger they are the older (ie. teenager) they become and vice versa. Congrats, my guy, all your teammates are kids/teens, you officially are the only adult in the room - now what? You get insights about each other, that's what

...but maybe not at 1:25 AM. Bed's calling.

#critical role #vox machina #sometimes I write #tempted to write it for #the legend of vox machina #more than the stream canon #vex and vax just escaped from syngorn are half feral with mistrust and don't even have trinket yet #keyleth is an adorably awkward gangly teen dealing with her looming aramenté #grog is leaner and his voice is squeaky but still he's grog and will protect his little buddy at All Costs #pike a tiny black-haired force of chaos and kindness and will protect her new big brother at All Costs #(what else is new :D) #scanlan is even tinier than pike. also confused and polite and concerned that his mom will worry if he's gone too long #every day when they wake up they're a bit older and they wonder if they're dreaming their weird group #meanwhile percy hovers between Done™ curious and half out of his mind trying to find a solution to bring everyone back to their normal age #idk I hope I manage to do something with this at some point #vax'ildan #vex'ahlia #keyleth #grog strongjaw #pike trickfoot #percival de rolo #scanlan shorthalt

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

So I’m mostly curious about this for Muriel’s sake (he’s my favorite) but I have an HC request for if the M6, whether through a dream or magic, got to talk with their past selves from the darkest point in their lives, what would they say? Try to comfort/cheer themselves up? Assuming everyone got their Upright endings.

The Arcana HCs: M6 talking to their past selves

~ this is such an interesting one, @httyd-chocolate! thank you for the request, I hope you like what I do with it! (for hc purposes, this occurs as a magical dream where past and present selves interact) - brainrot ~

Julian

The dream is so vivid that he doesn't realize what it is until it's over

But right now, he's staring down at this gangly, scared, insecure almost-teenager, and every heroic bone in his body is telling him that this boy deserves all the safety and support in the world

It's weird to hear his young self saying the same deprecating things that he still does, but the jokes that normally make him laugh don't sound funny at all coming from a kid

And before he knows it, all the words he's heard you and Portia and Mazelinka say to him are spilling out of his mouth

"You're not alone. People are fortunate to be around you. You only drag everyone around you down when you refuse to let them lift you up. Sticking around to see the future is worth it."

At the same time, seeing himself in that kid's eyes is world-altering

Because to that younger self, the man he is now is smart, and heroic, and important, and somebody worth growing up to be

They stroll down to the seaside, at one point, as Julian listens to tiny Ilya's frustrations with his sister, and himself, and not knowing who he is or what comes next besides a call away from home

"You're pretty cool, mister," Ilya says at one point, "who are you?"

"I'm you," Julian says, and the look of hope and surprised delight he sees on Ilya's face makes him wake up with tears in his eyes

Asra

They know where they are as soon as the back alleys of the South End swim into view. They don't expect to see themself though

He's caught glimpses of the past once or twice, with you by his side, but those were moments of a childhood of wonder and escape. The kid in front of him hasn't found that magic yet

Little Asra is hiding in a corner behind a trash heap, clutching their lost mother's shawl and trying to hide the sniffles that shake their thin shoulders. Though all that disappears when they spot Big Asra

Suddenly, he's being scrutinized with the most curious gaze, and there's no hiding who he is. So he joins hands with him and starts wandering around, paying for lots of street food along the way

They'd forgotten how many questions they used to ask people

Until one hits him out of nowhere: "what's it like for us now?"

They don't want to leave that scared, lonely kid without something to look forward to, so they play with the dream a bit and lead Little Asra to a familiar magic shop a few streets away from the town square

In the dream, you're dozing by the fire, tea and snacks waiting on the table, and Big Asra watches his child self gaze at you in awe and remember what home feels like

It's sobering, to lead that child back to the docks and tuck them in to sleep under the pier, but it's a glimpse of warmth they're glad they got to share

Nadia

She has a suspicion of what's going on when she opens her eyes in her childhood bedroom, and that suspicion is confirmed when her 14-year-old self storms in and slams the door shut

She's ready to provide a haven. A listening ear. Ready to tell the young woman in front of her that she's right, that she's ready for more, that being held back and dismissed like this really isn't fair

Until the 14-year-old opens her mouth and starts to unload her day

For the first time in years, Nadia's not sure what to say. Does she want to tell this young woman that she's right, her parents and older sisters are being overprotective and unreasonable? Yes!

But does she find herself agreeing that a 14-year-old should not be allowed to go off to the battlefield her older sibling is serving as a medic on to lead the army to victory herself? ... yes ...

Does the embarrassed, hurting, angry teen in front of her need to know that? Absolutely not. So Nadia listens and nods instead

There are other things she sees that she realizes she remembers correctly. The fear of not measuring up. The frustration of having to wait to meet the milestones her siblings have already passed

So she tells this precocious, prickly young woman what you've been seeing in her all along: she is strong. She is smart. She is someone worth having faith in, and she doesn't need to be afraid

Muriel

He doesn't have to think twice. As soon as he sees that big, bony lad that was himself in his early twenties, huddled in a cell under the Coliseum after his first fight, he's breaking him out of there

He starts to wonder if this is a dream, when the iron bars give way under his grasp, but he's focusing on wrapping his cloak around those shivering shoulders and leading him out of the city

He's forgotten how scrawny he'd been before he bulked up on the meals provided for Lucio's prized fighter, and seeing spatters of his first opponent's blood on such a boyish face breaks his heart

They're both silent on the way through the woods. The younger him is still in shock, and the older him isn't sure what to do next

When the reach the clearing, the hut is more like what older him is used to. He helps young Muriel into the outside bath and begins putting together a hearty stew for the two of them to share

They both stay quiet. Older him watches every flinch and start and quiet pause of happiness and safety and keeps realizing that he deserves better. He deserves good things. I want him to have that.

They both turn bright red when younger him notices that the bed has two pillows on it, but they both know that that's a good thing

When the time comes for them to wake up, Muriel wraps that kid up in his arms. "... it gets better. Promise. You deserve it."

Portia

This is trippy, but after what she's been through with you, Portia guesses this is just par for the course. Why is she in Nevivon?

Her question is answered when a nine-year-old girl comes careening around the corner, fiery curls flying, just in time to collide with her and go sprawling in the dust by the road

Oh, Portia thinks, I remember being like this. I remember her.

Portia watches Pasha pick herself up, lower lip trembling with rage and eyes full of tears, getting ready to lash out at whoever just ripped her dress and made her day go from awful to terrible

And she pulls that little girl into the tightest hug she can manage

Once Pasha's made good use of the handkerchief she's been handed, she takes Portia's hand and shows her around town

She tells Portia all about her life right now. About the grandmas who take care of her, and the parents she doesn't remember

And she talks and talks and talks about her amazing older brother, the last family she has, who left several months ago to explore the world and find adventure and save people - without her

Portia listens and comments, but she keeps getting distracted looking at the strong, clear-eyed, purposeful little girl next to her

So she spends the rest of her visit telling that kid that she's strong, she's interesting, she's exciting, and she is so, so very important, even when it's just her

Lucio

He's back in the frozen woods. He doesn't like the frozen woods

And neither, apparently, does the six year old boy across from him

At first he's just concerned. Why is a small child alone in the freezing cold? He needs to help them get safe and warm

Then he recognizes the golden head of hair, and the big, silver eyes staring up at him, and the nose red from cold, and he has to bite his tongue to keep from yelling as he starts a fire and asks for a name

He likes having a different name, he realizes, when he gets to introduce himself as Lucio the Adventurer to little Montag

Montag, he learns, is alone on a quest to hunt down a bear per his mother's instructions, but he's cold and hungry and frightened

To Montag, Lucio is a hero. He's big and strong and has a cool arm and builds a fire to keep him warm and listens to him talk about how he wants to be a leader when he grows up, without scoffing at his dreams

So the two of them huddle together by the fire under one of the trees, sharing a cloak and talking about who they are

Lucio hears the beginnings of his downfall already in Montag's stories about growing up stronger than everyone so the people in his family and his tribe will have no choice but to praise him

And Montag hears humility and hope from Lucio, about the importance of recognizing mistakes and learning to love and be loved

#ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #the arcana game #the arcana fluff #the arcana angst #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

[emeritus-fuckers]

I would like to apologize for the "Fatherhood" post so... Have these. - Jez

Wholesome Emeritus Brothers headcanons (mostly Primo being a wonderful parent to his brothers)

When Secondo and Terzo were little, they would often go to Primo's room at night to sleep with him. Not because of nightmares, but because they wanted to spend more time with him and sadly he was often busy.

No matter how busy he was, however, Primo always found time for his brothers. Always. Even if it was just a few minutes of his very limited free time.

Also, no matter what happened, he'd always read them a bedtime story.

Primo subconsciously refers to his brothers as his babies in his mind. Even when they're all old.

They're all very protective of each other. Sure, they squabble sometimes, especially Terzo and Secondo, but it's normal for siblings.

Even now, most of their arguments end very quickly because they don't want to worry their older brother.

No matter how old they are, if his brothers need a hug, Primo's giving them a damn hug and holding them for as long as they need. No questions asked.

Primo carries around candy his brothers liked when they were little and sneaks it into their pockets during the hugs.

He would also leave it on their pillows if they were gone for a night or more, whether it was on a tour or just being gone for whatever reason.

They don't have the heart to tell him they don't really like those candies that much anymore and they smile mostly because of nostalgia while eating them.

Primo would call them every morning when he was on tour. And while both of his brothers like to sleep in, they would both wake up to talk to him and then they'd go back to sleep. Totally worth it for their brother.

Primo would call them when they were on tours, as well. No party would stop them from answering.

They randomly write each other letters sometimes for no reason.

While Terzo and Secondo squabble all the time, they rarely argue seriously. But it does happen. And unfortunately it can get heated as they're both temperamental.

We won't speak to each other for a while and most of the time Primo has to get involved. He asks them to come to the greenhouse, since nobody goes there without Primo's permission and it's a neutral territory.

Now, his brothers never want to make him upset. Never. They are aware what his intentions are and they're fully prepared to act somewhat civil to keep Primo happy.

It just... Feels natural, somehow. To talk and then to give each other a hug with a small apology. By all accounts, it does not make sense, if someone saw them before and after the meeting, they would be confused as fuck.

They would make up eventually, but Primo being there just... Makes it faster? And so much easier?

Primo is also the only person who knows when his brothers are just messing with each other and when they're actually fighting.

Primo takes his brothers for walks sometimes, just like when the were little.

He doesn't expect them to hold his hands anymore, since he knows they're not little boys, but they do it anyway, just to see him smile fondly.

He asked them once if they're not embarrassed by that.

"You raised us, why would we be embarrassed? It's normal to show affection to someone you love" - that was Terzo's response, making Primo chuckle and give him a small side hug.

Secondo's response was a bit more drastic, but got the same reaction, since Primo obviously knew it was meant in a caring way.

"It is nobody's business what we do. And I doubt anyone here is stupid enough to say anything about it. And should someone decide to comment, I'll deal with them personally if they do."

A bit after his retirement as the singer of Ghost, Primo started having issues with breathing. They never got as bad as Nihil's and only came up once in a while, but he did worry he would have to miss the ritual during which Terzo would become a Papa because the incense used would be too strong for him.

Terzo would spend days by his side, assuring him it was okay and to prioritize his health. After all, Primo was already there for him his entire life, it's okay if his health required him to skip out a day.

Secondo took matters into his own hands, and fighting with Nihil for the incesce to be changed for something easier for Primo to deal with. It took a long time (Nihil would defend the Ministry and ritual traditions and shit like that), but eventually he gave up fighting, seeing how stubborn his middle son was. (He also considered owed his sons at least bending that little rule)

Primo was there, right in the front row, smiling softly at his brother, remembering all the other important ceremonies. Both his and Secondo's.

"I have some tissues prepared if you need to cry." Secondo whispered to him, feeling just how tightly Primo was squeezing his hand.

He did cry. Tried his best to hold back, but he'd always shed a few tears in the end. Terzo and Secondo always have tissues on them because of that.

#ghost band #ghost bc #ghost #papa nihil #papa emeritus i #papa emeritus ii #papa emeritus iii #headcanons #wholesome #primo #secondo #terzo

[camlannpod]

Character Playlist: Dai Thomas

Happy off-week! Episode 2 will be with us next Monday, so in the interim I'm going to be taking these first few off-weeks to talk about our character playlists!! As you might have noticed, episode one is very much themed around Dai - so here's his playlist.

It's Called: Freefall - Paris Paloma

Anyway, you say you're too busy Saving everybody else to save yourself And you don't want no help, oh, well That's the story to tell

Despite appearances, Dai cares a lot about other people, and considers himself to be the emotional caretaker of the group. He knows Perry and Morgan have got the practical stuff covered, but he also knows that sometimes they're so busy surviving they forget how to live. That's what he's there for. He's the morale guy!

2. Waking Up The Giants - Grizfolk

We're the rhythm of the darkest nights We're the truth that's been left unspoken We're the shadows far beyond the lights We're waking, waking, waking up the giants

This one's pretty self-explanatory, and could be used for the show itself. We're in the apocalypse! There's a lot of stuff that our gang doesn't know yet about how all this works. And, from a folkloric perspective, giants are a huge part of Brittonic stories and literature.

3. Dear Fellow Traveller - Sea Wolf

Dear fellow traveler under the moon I saw you standing in the shadows and your eyes were blue You put your hand out, opened the door You said, "Come with me, boy, I want to show you something more"

Of the whole gang, Dai is the one who most wants to see the sheer wonder in this apocalypse. He refuses to believe that it's relentlessly cruel or relentlessly deadly. He doesn't see it as rot or poison so much as transformation. There's a part of him that's genuinely excited to explore this strange new world they're all living in.

4. Wolves of the Revolution - The Arcadian Wild

Stay awake, oh, from the wolves you run barefoot With their libellous venomous words, they shoot Pulled and panicked, the door is locked And you're trapped inside of your own heart

This one's for Dai and the Knights. As a Nameless survivor, Dai had a very hard time when the trio were with the Knights, and felt horribly powerless and horribly scared. Despite his bravado, and his determination to believe in the good of other survivors, he is just as afraid of going back as the others are.

5. Free the Beautiful - Harletson

Tell them to free the beautiful Our words are more than critical Tell them to free the bеautiful

As a character for me, Dai has a bit of Cassandra to him. Again this is about his determination to see the light in this apocalypse - to find beauty and magic in it, to believe in the kindness of others. Morgan and Perry are justified in their skepticism, but Dai knows they need to be reminded to hope for something better. Otherwise what's the point?

6. Should We Let the Fire Die? - Branches

Should we let the fire die? The sparks still have a flicker and the night is growing thicker, but Should we let the fire die?

So obviously this is about Dai's fire, and his hope with it - his refusal to give up entirely on the old world and all the people that were in it. But it's also very much about what a deeply romantic, deeply loving person he is. The kind of man who wishes for an evening to last forever, if only he can spend it with the person he loves.

7. Fuck It I'm A Flower - Crying Day Care Choir

Fuck it, I'm a flower Growing taller every day Getting greener by the hour And I don't care what people say

Dai has never been the most macho man in the room. His power doesn't come from physical strength and skill, he isn't a natural born leader, he isn't really forceful in anyway. Growing up in a fundamentally sexist world, that was a source of insecurity for him, but as he got older he began to defiantly celebrate this aspect of his personality along with his queerness. He's emotionally intelligent, kind, gentle and funny. He's the group's heart.

8. Hallelujah - Oh Wonder

Some days I don't think my mamma thinks I'm good enough to be a superstar But one day I will show her I'm a diamond in the rough, I'll be a superstar

Everyone underestimates Dai all the time. In the apocalypse that's a lot more literal, because he's Nameless, and groups like the Knights only really care about people's Names. He gets sick and tired of this, and frustrated with people constantly assuming he won't be capable of taking care of himself and others. This song is about Dai embracing the power he's had all along.

9. We Will All Be Changed - Seryn

We can write with ink and pen But we will sew with seeds instead Starting with words we've said And we will all be changed

This song is on all our core characters' playlists! In some ways yes, literally, they will all change by the end of the series. But it's also about them moving from fighting and surviving to living, healing and growing. They think they might have finally found somewhere safe to weather the apocalypse. What do they do now?

#dai thomas #camlann #camlann podcast #dai #dai camlann #long post #Spotify

[eliza-makepeace]

So I've written the first part of a short Anakin & Padmé fanfic. As a bit of an A/N I feel I should state that I have a deep dislike for how in most fanfics I read about this pair, either they don't like each other, or she treats him like a kid and has a very condescending or maternal/older person tone with him, or they make it about other characters, i.e. Ahsoka or Obi-Wan.

So this is just a little thing I did for myself, where they're just a cute young couple of 20-something-year-olds who are crazy in love with each other. I thought some of you might enjoy it.

Sweet Nothing

Chapter One: Morning

It was early morning, but Anakin was already awake. He wasn’t one for oversleeping and he liked the feeling of a brand-new day, especially if his night hadn’t been plagued by worry, or dreams. Mostly, he loved waking up before she did. He never took it for granted, opening his eyes after the first ray of sunshine had crept through the window, and seeing Padmé lying next to him, breathing slowly with a soft smile playing at the corners of her lips.

She changed every time they came to Naboo together. It was as if Senator Amidala was another role for her to play, just as Queen Amidala had been, an act she did everywhere she went, with everyone she went with. For the most part. Anakin knew he was the only one she could be “just Padmé” with. She was still strong, and fierce, brave and intelligent, just as she was when she carried out her duties, but with him she wasn’t a Queen, or a Senator… she was a girl. He felt the same way about himself when he was with her. He suddenly wasn’t the Chosen One, or a Jedi, or anything else but the boy he never was really allowed to be. Together, they were young and, perhaps, foolish. But they were freer than they ever had been.

She moved, still in her dreams, to lay on her side, her face so that, if she opened her eyes, she’d be staring directly into his own. One of her brown curls covered part of her face, and Anakin raised his flesh hand to move it away, so carefully that anyone seeing it might have thought he was afraid she would shatter if he touched her too soon. Once that was done, he stared, marvelling at her soft features, and thinking to himself that he hadn’t been wrong when he’d asked her, so many years before, if she was an angel.

Padmé slowly blinked, not accustomed to the light, and smiled warmly when she recognised him. She hid part of her face against the pillow, flustered.

“Good morning” she greeted him; her voice muffled.

Anakin laughed softly and kissed her on the forehead. “Good morning to you too”. He knew she was staring at him intently, just as he had with her mere seconds before, as if she was soaking him in.

“You know,” she said, moving to properly look at him. “You look really handsome this morning.”

“I thought I always did.”

Padmé wrinkled her nose, in such a playful manner that made Anakin want to kiss her and…

“Well, that’s true. But more than usual.”

Anakin came closer, first placing a kiss on her hair, then her forehead, then her nose, and, just when he was close enough to kiss her lips, he stopped midway. “How so?”

She tried coming nearer, but he backed away with a cheeky smile. Padmé huffed, a feigned frustration in her eyes. She raised a hand to Anakin’s face, and traced the lines of his cheekbone and jaw with one finger. “You look happier than usual.”

Anakin looked up, pretending to be deep in thought. “That’s because I am.” He finally relented and came close enough to her that Padmé could lean in and kiss him. Her lips were soft, and he wondered if anyone could ever feel for someone like he did for her. He figured not. “It’s no short of a miracle to wake up next to you.” He said, breaking the kiss. “I don’t know what I’d do with myself if I couldn’t do this.”

Padmé smiled, her cheeks becoming bright red, and looking down before raising her eyes to meet his. “You make it sound as if you’re the only lucky one.”

Anakin raised an eyebrow. “I’m not?”

She kissed him again, this time more passionately than before. He wrapped her in his arms, her soft nightgown flowing underneath, as she put her arms around his neck, her fingers playing with his dark blond curls.

“No, you idiot.” She replied, out of breath. She bumped his nose with her own, smiling cheerfully. “I’m pretty lucky myself. You should have that in mind.”

He chuckled, placing his hands so that he was cupping her face. “I’ll try my best to remember.”

After another short kiss, Padmé stood up, suddenly energetic, and jumped out of the bed. “I’ve been thinking” she said, as she swiftly braided her long hair, “we could do something fun today.”

Anakin stared at her from the bed, a big smile on his face. “Fun? I thought that’s what we’ve been having these past few days.” His smile crooked, suddenly becoming mischievous. “Personally, I thought last night was more than fun.”

Padmé smirked and threw a small cushion at him, that he managed to dodge easily. “I meant actually going out, Anakin.” She walked through the room and opened the drawers. “Have you ever been to the summer solstice celebration in Varykino?”

Anakin passed a hand through his hair, putting it in its place. “I think you know I haven’t.”

“Yes, I do know.” She nodded, placing her hands on her hips. “Which is why I think we should go.”

He arched an eyebrow. “That does sound…entertaining.” He paused for a second. “My love, have you perhaps forgotten it’s a rather public endeavour?”

“I haven’t” she replied, shrugging. “No one will mind, Ani. This isn’t Coruscant. We just need to make sure we blend in with everyone else.”

He laughed a hearty laugh. “Well, that might be easier for some than for others.”

Padmé had been looking over her many dresses, but stopped mid-action when she heard her husband. She looked over at him. “Yeah, alright, fine.” She said, “So what if I occasionally take my clothing seriously? I can adapt!”

“Can you, really?” Anakin said, laughing as he stood up and walked to her. Suddenly she seemed so little, compared to his tall frame, but his height – and force sensitivity—weren’t that helpful in protecting him from her smacking him softly in the stomach. “Well,” he added, “Let’s accept that, for the sake of the argument, you can adapt your clothing choices. The real question, rather, is whether or not you could keep your hands off me there.”

Padmé looked him up and down, playing with her braided hair. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” she stood on her tiptoes, and placed a soft kiss on his jaw, mere centimeters away from his chin. “I guess you’ll just have to wait and see, Jedi.”

He bent to kiss her on her neck, closing his eyes as he inhaled her scent. "I thought we'd agreed not to talk about work, Senator."

She closed her eyes and placed a hand on his head as he pressed his lips right on her skin. "You're right. My deepest apologies. I... I don't know how I could forget." He raised his head and they pressed their foreheads together. "The truth is, Ani, I become slightly lightheaded and forgetful when I'm with you."

He smiled. "Well then, my love, I'll help you remember."

Padmé mirrored his gesture. "I bet you will."

#anidala #anakin skywalker #padme amidala #skyberrie #fanfic #my fics #also i REFUSE to fall to that thing ppl do in anidala fanfics where anakin keeps calling padme 'angel' #like. no. i'm sorry. he's never used that as a nickname for her #i'm a bit radical about that lmao #he calls her either padme or my love and i think that's neat #i have to admit there was one time where i thought *she* could call him babe #but then i hesitated and I didn't #anyways. #enjoy lmao #i have a couple more ideas for this so i'll add to it #its going to be a few short stories about them in Naboo having fun in the solstice celebration. nothing too crazy #also. padme is a weird feral 20 something yo girl and that's how she's in this #i refuse to see her any other way #he's completely batshit crazy but so is she

[olsenmyolsen]

That Funny Feeling

Part 17 of On The Inside With Elizabeth Olsen

Word Count: ~8.4K

masterlist

MK POV

It's like Y/N saw a ghost or, in this case, heard a ghost.

"Who's that?" I ask, trying to read her face. She eyes me. "You'll see." What the hell does that mean? She holds her hand to me—a signal to let me know it'll be okay. I hope.

Y/N opens the door in almost a robot fashion before her mouth opens and speaks out, "Hello, mother."

Fuck.

A surprise mom visit.

"There she is! My beautiful daughter!" I watch the older woman walk in with a suitcase and bombard Y/N into a hug. I move my eyes to Y/N, who slowly reciprocates the gesture.

From the side, Y/N and her mother look scary alike at first. Both freckled covered faces. Ridged noses. The same eye color. Good cheekbones.

Okay, that was a weird one to point out.

However, Y/N must get her legs from her dad because she towers over her mom. Like she can put her head on her mom's head. I never thought of it, but Y/N's gotta be 5'9"? 5'10"?

The hug ends, and I'm not sure what to do. Do I get up and introduce myself? Y/N looks a little stressed, so maybe I should leave? I watch Y/N's mother look over Y/N before lightly tugging at the end of Y/N's shirt. "So this is the place, huh?" Her mom begins looking around the studio apartment. Oh no, she's slowly turning her body to me. "I only ever see it when we FaceCh-" I've been spotted.

"Who are you?"

Y/N POV

Okay, rude mom. The proper thing to say would have been, "oh my goodness, I didn't realize you had a guest over because I was too busy not telling you that I was paying you a surprise visit to make you feel bad about yourself!" I think to myself as my eyes roll. I grab my mom's suitcase. I pick it up to move it out of the way, but this bitch is heavy.

I watch MK, and I can see her mind is struggling. I step up and answer for the poor Olsen. "Mom, this is my friend MK." MK thankfully knows how to be formal and polite as she stands up to give my mom a handshake.

"I thought your name was Max?" Okay, it's that kind of day. My mom is going to try to bicker about every little thing.

"I have another friend named Max. This is MK." I state again, so Mary-Kate doesn't have to speak up. They shake hands, and I see MK doesn't know whether to sit back down or not. With my mom's back still to me, I motion for MK to sit. She catches me and puts her butt on the cushion.

"Well, nice to meet you, MK. You're a gorgeous girl. I assume that MK is short for something?" Mom. "Mary-Kate." She speaks up. I mouth the word sorry to her. I watch her eyes dart to me as she gives me a small smile.

"Ahh. I see." My mom now takes a seat on the opposite end of the couch, her eyes still darting around the room as she still talks to MK. "Mary-Kate, like those Olsen girls." Oh, God. "Remember those girls?" My mom looks toward me. "You use to have their VHS movies and copies of Full House. You loved them!" My mom turns to face MK now. "She would go on and on watching them. There was one summer she had to fall asleep watching those movies that those little girls made. I know this because it got so bad and to a point where once the movie ended, her body knew. So she'd wake up and restart the movie."

Praying I get bit by a radioactive spider or something, so I can shoot lasers at my mom. She's so embarrassing and oblivious it hurts. MK's eyes flicker to mine, and she starts to laugh quietly at the death glare my mother is receiving.

"Yes, it happened. For one summer. Please, mom, stop."

"What was the name of the other one? Nash?" I huff. "Mom, you know it's Ashley. Mary-Kate & Ashley Olsen. Please stop bringing up my embarrassing childhood moments."

"Ashley. That's right! I wonder what they're up to now." Is she for real? "I'm sure they're doing fine," MK says with a teasing smile that only I see. I go to open my mouth, but my friend stops. "Who was Y/N's favorite, Mary-Kate or Ashley?" I can feel my body tense. I turn my eyes, already meeting MK's. Dead. I mouth to my least favorite, Olsen.

"I think it was that Ashley girl. But Y/N sometimes had a hard time telling those twins apart." Kill me. "Okay, mom! Please stop! Thank you." I shoot daggers at MK. She gets the hint and closes her mouth too.

"My friend doesn't need to hear these kinds of stories right now." I plead.

My mom looks at the tv with Godzilla still on pause. "Is this what you girls have been doing all day?" I have to physically stop myself from rolling my eyes. "No, mom, believe it or not, I worked today. I got up extra early too. I went on a run, went to work, talked to my- some significant people, came home, and THEN I started watching this movie. MK came over 'bout 20 minutes before you did! We also ordered dinner too. I would've had MK order you a plate if I knew you were coming! But did I know that? No!" I take a breath. "It-It's like you thrive off the stress you put onto me!" I exhale. My mom looks at me, shocked. I never go off on my mom, but she's been so frustrating lately, and for her to do this really sent me to the edge.

I want to say sorry. But I stand my ground. I stay standing as she looks at me. I see MK looking out my living room window out of the corner of my eye. She probably wants to jump out of it.

"I thought my own daughter would be happy to see me." Now she's doing this. "Mom-" "No, it's alright. I'll go to my hotel and take the first flight in the morning back to Nashville. Your home." She throws in. I wish she would stop saying that. It's not my home. Where I live is my home. The place where I don't feel people watching me. The place where I actually have friends that I love. The place where I met my girlfriend. New York. This is my home.

My mom goes to get up. I know she's hurt, but I know she's trying to get me to apologize and cave. I may cave, but I'm not apologizing.

"Mom." "It's quite alright, Y/N." My mom states firmly before grabbing her suitcase and leaving out my door, slamming it shut. I take a huge breath in and turn to my friend. Mary-Kate Olsen. She looks like a lost puppy. "It's complicated." She nods at me. I walk over to her and wrap her into a surprise hug. "So big fans, huh, and here I thought you knew nothing about us." I scoff. "It was one summer." "Sure, Y/N." "I knew about you two. I promise you I had no idea there was a third." We stop talking, and I try to relax my body.

"MK?" "Yeah?" I move out of the hug. "Can you go wait in my room?" "Uhh yeah, sure." She quickly gets up without a second thought and heads into my room. I feel a shouting match about to start with my mom, and even if it's outside my apartment, I don't want MK to be able to hear it.

I firmly wipe the palms of my hands off and step out my door, chasing my mom down the hall.

"Mom, stop." She ignores me as she presses the elevator button. I've lived here long enough to know that I got at least 20 seconds before it gets here. "Mom." I finally plant myself next to her. "Can you just come back inside? Please." "I thought you didn't want me here." She spits out. I'm so tired of this. I'm finally in the best place I've been in.. in.. forever? Maybe? I don't know. But I'm finally feeling great about myself, about my life, and today she decides to pull this stunt.

"Mom." I make sure my tone is softer than it was 2 minutes ago. "What did you think was going to happen?" I've observed my mother for too long. I watch as she shuffles her feet continuing to not answer me. She does that when she knows she's in the wrong. Will she ever admit it? No.

"You show up to my place for the first time out of the blue? What's, going on? What is this really about?" I stare at her blank face as the elevator dings. "Fine. It's not like we're on the best terms right now anyways." I huff out before I turn away.

I make it about two steps away before I feel my mom grip my wrist. I sigh and put my head down. I wanted her to tell me what was going on, but at the same time, I wanted her gone.

"Don't speak that way to me." She pulls me, causing me to turn to her. "I am your mother!" I rip my wrist out of her grasp. "Mom-" "I just wanted to see my baby! I wanted to see you! Lord knows you're not coming back home. And fine. That's fine! But I wanted my daughter to look me in the eyes and talk to me. Actually, talk to me-" I can't tell if this is real or bullshit, so I choose to interject.

"So what just 'cause I'm not returning "home," you think you can just barge into my small slice of life I have here?" "A life I gave to you" "Don't! Don't do that." I take a breath and run my hand through my hair. I can feel my hand bounce off my scalp as my nerves work through my body. My mom watches as my eyes begin to water. She reaches a hand out, but I take a step away.

"Yes, mother. Thank you for reminding me for the four hundredth and sixty-second time that you gave me a life. A life that was tailor-made to be better than the one you got. But guess what, mom? Maybe I didn't want that? Did you ever think about that?" I stop and sniff my nose. "Why do you think I went to Syracuse, literally one of the farthest schools I got accepted to, instead of Vanderbilt? I wanted to figure myself out without you!" I take a breath in as I let the tears fall. I shuffle my feet and shift my weight from one leg to the other.

"I turn 25 this year, for fucks sake! I thought I knew for the longest time, but then everything changed." "And I supported you." I hold my hand up to her. "Yes, you both did."

You both did. I repeat to me and only me.

"But, you know that's not what I'm talking about." I sob out as I cover my eyes. "Why are you really here, mom? Don't bullshit me. Because if you're about to say it's because I don't come home or I'm rude on the phone... I can't do this right now. You know the reasons I never want to come back. And so if that's the reason you think I'm short with you on the phone, then guess what, mom, that's not the reason."

My moms eyes are filled with hurt and regret. I know it, and she knows it, but I can't stop my mouth now.

"Sometimes it's because I'm fucking tired and the last thing I want to do is answer your stupid question about why I'm not going back to school, or the do I really want to work at a coffee shop for the rest of my life question? You already know the answers!" I swallow. "Other times, it's because all I get is a look from you that screams every word but joy. And maybe you don't mean to make that face because I know you're worried for me. I do. But guess what? You don't have to keep worrying. I'm in a good place. So maybe sometimes I don't want to talk because I don't want to talk! But then still there you are, and most of the time... i-it's because- it's like you call me up just to put me down. I s-swear it's like you only want me to be happy when it's convenient for you! Like today! I was having a great day! A great fucking day, and look at where we are now."

I can't see my mom anymore through the tears. I'm feeling every emotion in this one second, and I can't stop crying. I've never done this to another person before. I've never felt my chest become so light. I've never felt that funny feeling. I don't know what to do.

"Mom?" I croak out of my sore throat as I feel a person wrap their arms around mine. They shush me and start rubbing my back, letting me know it's okay. This action causes me to break down even more. I'm like full-on hyperventilating now as I bring my head down onto my mom's shoulder. I for sure know it's her because I can smell the coconut shampoo she's used all my life.

"Pumpkin?" My mom pulls out of the hug and gently puts her hands on my face. "I'm sorry, dear." Wow, that's maybe the third time in my life I've ever heard those words escape her mouth. She leans my head down and kisses my forehead. In response, I put my arms around her again and continued sobbing. My neighbors probably heard everything, but luckily no one came out. I can hear my mom saying things to me, but I can't concentrate enough to make out the words. So instead, I give her the tightest hug I've given her since we lost Davey.

My Dad.

That's when it hit me.

"Mom?" I whisper into her shoulder. "Yes, pumpkin?" "Todays, the day, isn't it?" My mom doesn't respond. Instead, she pulls back from the hug and puts her arms on mine. It's like we're standing there supporting each other. She slowly lifts her right hand and brushes my hair out of my face.

I blink, feeling a few tears slip out. "Two years to the day, Pumpkin." How could I forget? No really. How could I fucking forget? I look down at my mom, and I see her face clearer now.

She looks heartbroken. Maybe because her only child just yelled at her and complained that she ruined her life. Perhaps it's because that same child forgot the death date of the only father figure she's ever known. Or maybe she missed her kiddo. She missed having her family. She was tired, and she needed me.

"Do you hate me?" I genuinely ask.

My mom doesn't immediately respond, which makes my brain go crazy. She takes my hands into her own and pulls me to the nearest wall. She makes us sit down and let out bodies lean against the wall.

"Y/N?" I turn my face to the sound of my mother's smooth and soft voice. It reminds me of days when I was sick as a kid, and she took care of me. "I could never hate you." Tears begin to slip out her eyes. "I'm so sorry for ever making you think I did, sweetie. I care for you so much." She places a hand on my face to push back my tears. "I want what is best for you, and I try and push you because I know what the world is like. I was just trying to be the best mom you could ask for. I was trying to be better than my own mother. I never meant to push you away or make you think I never wanted you as a daughter. I love you with every bit of my old heart." I let out a breath of air through my nose and smile at that last part. "You're not even 50, mom."

"But I will be soon, Y/N. I want my daughter in my life for that day and all the years that follow." She thought she had lost me. "I'm so sorry for how I've acted. I didn't want to lose you, Y/N. I just love you so much. I'm so sorry, Pumpkin." "I'm sorry too, mom." I reach over and hug her. I hug her like I haven't seen her in years. I hug her like she'd never see me again. "I love you, mom." "I love you too, sweetie."

MK POV

I'm sitting at Y/N's desk, and it's a lot cleaner than the last time I was over like she's actually using it.

I'm trying to get my mind to focus on anything in this room. I've heard some yelling from out in the hall, but I chose not to listen to the words being screamed. I've distracted myself with my phone, but emails can only be so much fun.

As I skim over the desk, I notice she has a couple of books and journals on her desk. I take note at how similar they look to the ones in the living room. Except some of these are years old. I pick up a journal with the year marked 2019 on it. As I flip through some of the first few pages, it becomes clear what she uses these books for.

It's laced with short stories, poems, and songs. All original, as far as I know.

She never mentioned she was a writer or a musician, maybe? I take a glance around the room, and I don't see any guitars or keyboards. Maybe in her closet? I look towards it, but it's shut, so I won't bother.

I take a chance and try to find today's date in the 2019 journal. After a quick search, I find it and begin reading.

May 3rd, 2019

Death is Watching (Look Who's Inside Again)

Trying to be funny and stuck in a room There isn't much more to say about it Can one be funny when stuck in a room?

Well, well Look who's inside again Went out to look for a reason to hide again Well, well Buddy, you found it Now, come out with your hands up We've got you surrounded

-

To the man that made me laugh. I love you, Dad. But why did you give up? Why did you let Death take you?

My eyes look over those last three lines again, again, and again. Each time they become more glossy. It's like my heart is in my throat. Maybe that's why I'm struggling to breathe right now. I force my hand to gently grab the bottom of the page and turn it over.

There's no entry. I flip the next page. Nothing. I grab the book, close it, and let all the pages brush past my thumb as I watch each page after the one I read come up empty.

I hear the front door open and close. Oh shit. I put the journals back to where I think they were and stand up, waiting for her. No, I show look relaxed? I quickly wipe my eyes and pull out my phone before jumping onto Y/N's bed. No, wait, is that weird? Should I sit up? All this time, I've been internally debating, and I haven't heard Y/N.

"Y/N?" I call out to no answer. I decide to get up and come out into the main area. She's not there. "Y/N?" I take a quick look. Yeah, she isn't here. I go to pull my phone out; shit, I left it on the bed. That's when I notice the Chinese food sitting on the coffee table.

She was just dropping the food off. Is she coming back? Are her and her mom okay? Should I start plating the food? Does she even want a plate, or does she just eat it straight out of the container?

Y/N POV

I enter my apartment, and it's a little shocking to see MK standing there.. menacingly... staring at the Chinese food. "MK?" I ask, closing the door behind me. "Hey! You're back!" She runs over to me and hugs me. "I thought you left." She mumbles out. I decided not to question her and just let this moment happen.

We detach, and she notices how exhausted my body has become within the last 15 minutes. She thankfully doesn't say anything, but I see the look in her eyes. She sees my face and red eyes. She probably overheard. Crap.

"Where's your mom?" "She went to the hotel." "Oh." I don't want to talk about it now. MK looks away and to the food. "Do you want a plate?" "No, I usually eat out of the container." How much will I eat? I don't know. "Why am I not surprised." MK laughs, putting a smile on my tired face. "But if you need a plate, go grab one." MK walks to the kitchen and begins rummaging through, looking for everything she needs. I start to unpack our food and place it on the coffee table. I look to the tv, and it did the thing where it goes to an idle screen while waiting, so I turn it back onto the movie. I'm not really in the mood anymore, I'm so tired emotionally and physically, but I want to put on a front for MK. Or at least until dinners over.

MK returns with two glasses of water, a plate, and some silverware. I didn't know whose food was whose, so thankfully, I chose right because MK puts her fork into the meal in front of her. So I guess I'm eating Sesame Chicken. Good choice. "Ready?" I ask her picking up the remote and pointing it to the screen.

"Yeah." MK answers looking over at me; she gives me a pity smile before focusing her attention away.

MK POV

Man, I really wanted that Sesame Chicken. But Y/N needs to eat, and I don't want to disrupt her right now. I have no idea what happened in that hallway, but I want the person next to me to be okay.

I'm happy with the amount she ate. Half. But hey, that's better than nothing.

Do you know resting bitch face? What's it called when the person looks worried? Worried bitch face? I don't know, but that's what Y/N's got when she watches movies. I could tell her mind was elsewhere at the beginning, but as the film continued, she got more into it and started to relax. The movies almost over now, and I've been watching Y/N more than the monsters on screen.

She smiled every time Lizzie came on screen. It was so cute until it became annoying. Just kidding, but now she has the dumbest grin I've seen. Are her eyes glossy? What's she looking at?

I turn my head, and it's the scene where Lizzie reunites with her kid and husband. Right now, the kid just ran into Lizzie's arms, and she's holding him, crying.

For the first time tonight, Y/N catches me watching her. "Shut up." That is all she says as she laughs and lets a tear slip out. I throw my hands up in defeat and let the last 5 minutes play out.

Y/N POV

The credits hit, and I turn to MK. "Wow." She laughs and turns the tv off for me. She starts packing up the leftovers. "Wait till you see Avengers!" "Trust me. I can't wait. I gotta tell Liz that I saw this." I pull my phone out and start typing away. From the kitchen, I hear the fridge door close, and "she told you not to watch Oldboy, right?" "Yeah." "Good." Okay, what the heck? It can't be that bad, right?

I finish up my text to my girlfriend as MK entered the room again. "Is it cool if I use your bathroom? I had to go since, like the HALO drop scene, I didn't want you to stop the movie." "Who said I would've paused it?" MK's jaw drops before she pouts and lets out a "rude" before walking away into the bathroom.

It's now after 8, and I was tired before the movie, but I'm exhausted now. I want to just go to bed, but my mind still doesn't want to turn off. I'm thinking about my mom and my dad a lot. I feel a mix of remorse, loss, happiness, and regret. I genuinely don't know what to do. I should've stayed with my mom. I could've done more over the last two years. I'm so stupid. I can feel something happening, but I don't know what's happening. Am I crying? When did this happen?

"Hey, look at me. Y/N, can you look at me?" I hear MK's voice calling out to me. Where is she? I pull my eyes from the floor and up to her face. She's sitting on her knees in front of me. I see her bottom lip trembling. Her eyes look scared. Worried? Her hands start reaching up to me. "Good. You're doing very well. Y/N, is this okay?" She cups her hands onto the sides of my face. I open my mouth to respond, but nothing happens, so I just nod. Her thumbs begin to wipe at the tears streaming down my face. "It's okay. I'm here." I lean my forehead into her own. I can't stop. "Y/N, can you focus on some things around the room? Look at three things and tell me what they are." I lift my head from MK's. She leans more into my knees to keep wiping away the tears. "Umm... the tv..." "That's good, Y/N. Keep breathing in and out and name another thing." I blink a couple of times before looking around. "Your bag.." "One more thing Y/N. You're doing very well." MK gets up from the floor and sits right next to me. She drapes an arm around my waist, takes her other hand, and grabs onto mine. She leans her body onto mine. She's covering me in comfort. She has to have done this with Liz before. "Max." "Can you tell me where?" I nudge my head in the direction of a photo in the kitchen. "Max and I. Couple months ago." "Thank you, Y/N." I hear MK swallow next to me and take in a breath. "You're okay. I got you."

MK POV

She's finally resting.

It's been almost an hour since I asked her to name the things around the room. It's a trick I haven't done in a while. The last person I did that with was Liz before she started to shoot WandaVision.

Over the course of the last hour, I just held her in my arms. She would sob and stop. She'd apologize before drifting off into her mind again. The whole time I just kept her safe. I would brush her hair and tell her that it was okay and that I'm here for her. I still am. I always will be.

I've never seen this side of Y/N before. It didn't scare me one bit. It just made me concerned for her. It also made me so incredibly mad at her mom. Her mom sent her over the edge. Her mom did this.

I hear my phone start to ring from the bedroom, breaking up to silence in here. Shit. Y/N seems like she's out of it, so maybe I can slip away. I unwrap my arm from around her body, and I swear my phone is getting louder. I start scooting from Y/N so that I can get up, but she stops me. "MK?" "Hey, one second, I'll go turn it off," I say, getting up and leaving her. Y/N mumbles something, but I don't catch it.

I pick up my phone, wanting to tear the head off of whoever called me.

Damn it. It's Ash.

MK: "What?"

I move myself into the bathroom and shut the door behind me.

Ash: "Woah, calm down. You okay? Also hiiiii!"

M: "Sorry. Hi. What's up?"

A: "Damn okay. Anyways. I sent you some emails about an upcoming shoot. Models and outfits. Can you go over them and send me your feedback. I need it by 9 tomorrow. Cool?"

"Yes. I can do that."

"Thanks. You're the best! Byee!"

"Bye."

The call ends, and thank goodness I got work mode Ash on a call instead of Sister Ash. Sister Ash would've known something was up and not let me go until she figured out whatever was going on. I quickly look in the mirror and fix my eyes and hair. I put my phone on silent and put it in my pocket before walking back out to Y/N. I walk past the exhausted couch girl and slip my phone into my bag.

"MK?" Her sore throat squeaks, scaring me before I quickly compose myself. "Hey. It's me. I'm here." In a calm tone. I put myself back into my old position. "I should go to bed." "Okay. Y/N, let's get you to bed." I remove my arm from her side and get up quickly. She doesn't move. I move up to her knees like before. "Need some help?" She nods at me. I stand up and hold my arms out to her. She grabs on, and together we lift her up to her feet. I put my arm around her to help support her since I know her body wants to drop.

Once getting her onto her bed, I begin to look through her drawers and closet for any comfy clothes. Oh, hey, there's the guitar!

"Bottom drawer." I turn around and see her pointing to the bottom of her dresser. I open it up and find a black t-shirt and grey sweats. This shirt looks a lot like one I use to have. I bring the clothes to Y/N and excuse myself so she can change. I grab her a water bottle and some Advil for her head during that time. Crying always causes a headache. Remember that. "You can come back." I enter her room and smile at her. "Take this. It'll help." She doesn't put up a fight or say anything. I think she just wants to sleep and put an end to this day. "Thank you." "Of course." Y/N sets her water down and starts getting comfortable on her bed. I look over her room again, and my eyes return to her desk.

She knows.

Sitting on top of a large T-shirt and a pair of black shorts is the 2019 journal. I look back at her eyes, which are already watching me. "MK?" Oh no. "Could you stay the night?" She points to the clothes. Oh! "You sure?" She nods. I carefully grab the journal and set it off to the side. I watch Y/N smile out of the corner of my eye. I grab the clothes and excuse myself to the bathroom to change.

Y/N POV

She didn't ask me what my journal was for or what it meant. She read it earlier. I knew it was in a different position.

But for some reason, I'm not mad. I'm actually glad if she ended up reading what I think she read.

"Penny, for your thoughts?" I look over to see MK changed. "I'll tell you." I gesture for her to crawl into bed. My bed isn't a twin, so thankfully, we're not right on top of each other. It's a Queen. Cuddles can happen, or people can give each other space. MK gets into bed and faces me. "I turned off all your lights and locked your door." "Thank you." "Do you want your lamp off?" "Not yet."

We start to let the silence fall onto us. I'm not as tired as I was before, so I'm just lying here thinking and staring at the Olsen across from me.

"Y/N?" "Hmm." "What are you thinking about?" "That I don't want to be alone right now. That I'm glad, you're here." "Me too." I scoot myself closer to MK. I can tell by how she slightly moved her arm back that she doesn't want to mess up. I rest my hand onto her side. "Is this okay?" She nods to me. My eyes start to look over her body as I continue to think about today. "What did you think?" MK looks at me, a bit confused. "About my journal entry?" I physically watch MK get embarrassed and stressed all at once. She begins to pull away and back up, but I grab onto her hip and pull her closer to me. "MK." I get out in a calm tone. She stops moving. "I'm serious. I'm not mad. It's okay." I reassure her and brush away her hair from her face that softens up so I can see my friend again. "I thought it was" She takes a second. "Beautiful." She smiles at me to let me know she means it.

"I'm sorry for your loss," MK said, the one thing I didn't want to hear. I nod at her. She inches closer to me as this moment between us becomes more fragile each time we open our mouths. "I wrote that the day he died." "What was his name?" "Davey. Well, that's what I called him. He gave me a choice between Dad or Davey. As long as I never called him David, he was cool with it." MK and I bring each closer into a hug, as we both feel the tears coming.

We both let the hug happen until I pull away. If I look pass her and into my room, I'm going to get lost in thought. "He wasn't my real dad." I clarify for MK. "But he treated me like he was." I smile, thinking about the day I met him. "He always had shoulder-length hair, which, as a kid, I thought was funny, but as I grew up, I got jealous of it." I chuckle as some tears land between MK and I.

MK looks like she wants to speak but is afraid. "Spill it," I whisper out. "How?" "Cancer." MK sucks her lips into her mouth and starts to bite. "Hey. No. Don't do that.." I softly lift my hand and pull her lip out. I move my hand from her lips to her cheek. "It's okay, MK. He's gone." She wants to cry for me. She can, but I don't want her to, honestly. She blinks a few times to make the tears go away. Once she's done, she leaves me and switches off the bedroom lamp before coming back to me. She cuddles in hard. She rests her head on my chest as I place my head on top of hers. Both of our arms snaked around each other. "I'm-" "There's nothing to apologize for."

"Is your mom coming back?" The tone she asked that in wasn't sweet. "She might. But you don't have to worry. Her and I are okay." I can feel her go to lift her head, so I let her. She looks directly into my eyes. "We are. I promise. Now please, you were comfortable before." She playfully rolls her eyes and rests her head on my chest again. "There you go." I kiss the top of her head, and I can feel the tiredness wash over me.

"Y/N?" "Yeah?" I answer back with my eyes shut. "I'm really sorry about reading your journal. I didn't know." "I know. It's okay, MK. I'm glad you did." "Really?" "Really." I can feel MK start to make shapes with her fingers on my lower back. It's soothing and something I need right now.

As MK and mines bodies start to slow in breathing and drift off to sleep, the Olsen below me mumbles, "I love you, Y/N. As a friend. Always." I smile because I don't know if she meant for me to hear, but I let her know. "I love you too, MK. As a friend. Always."

Liz POV

Today is the day! The pilot said that we have landed in JFK, so I'm just ready to get the fuck off this plane. The flight wasn't as bad this time. Since I mostly slept and planned out things I wanted to surprise Y/N with.

"If you require deplaning assistance, please remain in your seat until all other passengers have deplaned. One of our crew members will then be pleased to assist you. On behalf of American Airlines and the entire crew, I'd like to thank you for joining us on this trip, and we are looking forward to seeing you on board again in the near future. Have a nice day!"

I pull out my phone and let Max know that the plane just landed. She texted me back a couple of seconds later, letting me know that she was just circling the terminals. I think Max is more excited to see me than to drop me off if I'm being honest. Even though I'm dating her best friend, she still asked me for an autograph and picture when I have time.

I look through my texts with Y/N, and she still hasn't texted me a good morning text or anything usually, by now, I would've heard something. Max did tell me that she texted Y/N earlier, letting her know that she'd be off today, so maybe she's just sleeping in. So if that's the case, I can't blame her.

_

After collecting my bags, and avoiding onlookers, and wannabe paparazzi, I am finally seated in my girlfriend's best friend's green Subaru.

I haven't told anyone where I am or what I'm doing. The only person that knows is Max. After a couple of minutes into the drive, I decide to give Y/N a wake-up call.

Y/N: "Hello?"

She sounds groggy.

Liz: "Good morning, my Coffee Girl! Did you just wake up?"

I see Max glance over at me before her eyes return to the road.

Y: "Hey, babe! Yeah, I actually did. What time is it?"

Y/N, let's outs a yawn.

L: "Ummm, it's.. almost noon"

"Oh Lizard, you okay? You already done for the day?"

"Yes, I'm fine, love, but, Y/N, it's noon for you."

There's a moment of silence before I hear the phone and her crashing down onto what I assume is the floor. Y/N is on speaker, so Max just heard her eat shit as well and is trying to muffle her laugh. I can't help it, but I feel my lips form into an evil smile too.

"Y/N, are you okay?!" I ask, holding back some laughter.

She doesn't respond, but I do hear another voice ask my same question. I see Max look over, confused, as the smile leaves my face.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Fuck, that's gonna hurt. Thank you."

Y/N responds to the other person. Before I hear the phone shuffle and her voice return to me.

"Hey, sorry I jus-"

"Who are you with?" I try to put in a brave voice, but my mind is going a million miles per hour. Y/N would never cheat. She wouldn't.

"What?"

I hear some more shuffling. That's not the right response.

"I heard someone else, Y/N."

"Can we FaceTime?"

I look to Max. She shakes her head and points to the interior of her car. Y/N would instantly know.

"Not at the moment."

"MK's here. That's who you heard"

So what the fuck? My own sister can barely talk to me but has time to be with my girlfriend.

"Y/N..."

"Liz, this would be a lot easier if we could FaceTime."

"Just tell me what's going on because this isn't sounding good for you." I hear my voice, and it isn't becoming nicer.

"MK and I hung out yesterday. It was an impromptu thing, and I asked her to stay over last night."

I can my heart start to crack. But she wouldn't. She wouldn't!

"Y/N I swe-"

"Babe. Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

I do. I really do.

"I didn't want to be alone. I knew Max was busy, but MK was here."

I turn to Max, confused, and she's returning the same confused look.

"Why didn't you want to be alone? Are you okay?"

"I'm okay.. Umm... My mom showed up yesterday."

Max lets out a very loud gasp. I know Y/N never talks about her family, so knowing this and hearing Max's reaction, this is big.

"And you are safe? Are you at home?"

Y/N doesn't respond right away, which is worrisome. But then I hear her faintly crying.

"Yes, I'm home. I miss you."

My heart breaks because I know she means it, and she's going through all these emotions, and I'm so close but so far.

"When can I see you?"

I look at Max's phone. It still says 30 minutes.

"How about I FaceTime you in like 45? Is that okay?"

"Yes. I love you."

"I love you too, Y/N. How about you get up, get some ice on your leg and eat some breakfast? Pancakes and eggs, none of the frozen stuff."

"You heard me fall?"

"I tried so hard not to laugh."

"Oh my God. That's embarrassing."

She sounds better now.

"It's your body building character."

There's a moment between us where we just listen to each other breath and a couple of sniffles from her. It's an almost reassuring moment.

"4 days, babe."

"It'll be sooner than you think."

The call is coming to a natural close.

"See you, Liz."

"Later, Y/N!"

"I love you!" We both say at the same time, causing each other to laugh before we end the call.

"That was so cute but gross," Max tells me once my phone hits my lap. It was. I keep thinking over the call. I start to play with my rings to prolong the feeling I have coming.

"Can you get that?" Max asks me, holding her phone up to me. "Tell me what it says." It's a text from Y/N apologizing for not making it to today's shift before she realizes that Max told her not to come in. I relay that information as a new text pops up.

Mom showed up.

"Umm.." Max is thinking of what to respond back while I'm waiting to text for her. "Just send a pumpkin emoji first." I do that. "Then, are you okay? At work. Talk later? Type it all just like that." I do just that. "Send?" I ask the redhead. "Yeah, send it." I hit the send button and watch as Y/N with a thumbs up.

"Why the emojis?" "It's basically to let the other person know that we're busy with work or girlfriends. But if you're asking why the pumpkin one, that's what Y/N's mom calls her. Pumpkin. So sending that, let her know that I know how serious this is."

Max is a true best friend. "Pumpkin. Is that why her favorite color is orange?" I watch Max's face try to hide the real reason. "Yeahhh-" "I know it's because of Velma." Max lets out a breath. "Okay, I couldn't lie to you." I snicker at how starstruck Max can be.

"Good," I respond back in my Sokovian accent, almost causing Max to crash the car.

MK POV

I get startled awake but the sound of Y/N crashing onto the floor. I see her phone next to her as she is on the ground holding her knee.

Lizzie.

"Y/N, are you okay?!" She doesn't respond, but I do hear Lizzie's voice ask my same question. "Yeah, I'm fine. Fuck, that's gonna hurt. Thank you." Y/N picks up her phone before shuffling around, grabbing some clothes, and heading to the bathroom.

"Hey, sorry I jus-" "What?" I hear Y/N muffled through the door answer my sister.

Okay, stop listening, MK. I decide to wake myself up a bit more and distract my brain with emails. I already sent Ash all the information she needed from last night. I woke up early this morning to get it done since I knew it wasn't happening last night before returning back to Y/N.

After going through my emails and sending some texts, Y/N returns from the bathroom. She's wearing cuffed jeans and a black bra, she throws whatever shirt she picked up and goes searching for a new one.

Okay, this isn't helping past feelings. Look away, MK. Look away. Just look at your phone.

"Why didn't you want to be alone? Are you okay?" My concerned sister asks. I glance up and watch as Y/N stops her movement, putting a hand on her forehead.

"I'm okay.. Umm... My mom showed up yesterday."

Liz lets out a very loud gasp. I know Y/N never talks about her family so knowing this and hearing Liz's reaction, she knows this is big.

"And you are safe? Are you at home?"

Y/N doesn't respond right away, which is worrisome. But then I hear her faintly crying. I get up and stand next to her to let her know I'm here. Y/N looks to me but talks to Liz. "Yes, I'm home. I miss you."

Ouch. My heart breaks because I know she means it, and she's going through all these emotions, and I'm so close but so far. But I shove my feelings down. This is for Y/N. I push my forehead into Y/N's and wrap an arm around her.

"When can I see you?"

"How about I FaceTime you in like 45? Is that okay?"

"Yes. I love you." Y/N lets go of me and starts searching her room for a new shirt. She finds one and starts putting it on. I take this opportunity to grab my clothes from last night and run into her bathroom.

_

"See you, Liz."

"Later, Y/N!"

I pop out of the bathroom just in time.

"I love you!" They both say at the same time causing each other to laugh before they end the call.

I head out of her room and to my bag. Making sure I have everything with me.

When I come back, Y/N is sitting on her bed texting. "You okay?" She looks up at me and smiles. "Yeah. Umm..." Y/N puts her phone away. "Do you wanna sit?" She points to the spot next to her, so I join her. She moves one leg underneath her and moves, so her body is towards me.

"Thank you for everything yesterday. It really meant a lot to me that you stayed and cared for me. How you always care for me.. You're a wonderful friend, MK." She places her hands into mine and starts rubbing her thumb along the tops of mine. She stutters and is struggling to say more. I watch as she gives up and starts biting her bottom lip. I slip my one hand out and bringing to her lip, pulling it out. I let my hand slide down to her chin, but she reaches up and brings my hand back to her lips. I freeze, not knowing what to do. Y/N plants two soft kisses on the pad of my thumb. "Thank you, Mary-Kate." Her eyes are glued to my own.

"Always." Whispers out from the back of my throat.

We both know what could happen next. Y/N reached up and runs her hand through my hair. She pulls my head closer to her before we pull each other into a hug. With her mouth next to my ear, she drops this: "My mom got it wrong. You're my favorite twin." We both laugh into each other's shoulder before she pulls away and stands up. She clears her throat and wipes her eyes.

"How do you like my shirt?" My mouth drops at the sight of it. "Oh my God!" It's a black t-shirt with like seven different pictures of Lizzie, and at the chest, it says Elizabeth Olsen in pink. "You're obsessed!" "You're just jealous!" Y/N smirks out before she leaves me to head to the kitchen. "I can get you one for Christmas?" Y/N yells from the kitchen. "Fuck off!"

_

I had to leave Y/N about ten minutes into her cooking breakfast. Summer is around the corner, so I need to head to the offices to start going over sales meetings, designs, pitches, etc. Plus I still need to change and shower, so heading home first is a must. Y/N understood and promised that we'll hang out again. Plus, I think she mentioned her mom was coming over later? I'm not quite sure Y/N mumbled a bit. But! This is the best outcome I wished for before yesterday. Y/N and I are friends.

Once I settled in my car, I had a couple of missing texts from form Liz. Some ranging from nice to not so nice. The not-so-nice ones were first. She doesn't mean the things she said it's just insecurities bubbling up. I understand. I do. The nice ones followed once she said, "Max explained everything." I didn't know her and Max were that close. I texted my sister back, telling her about last night and the things that I think she should know.

I left out the stuff about Y/N's dad, and how close Y/N and I were because she doesn't need to know that unless Y/N tells her.

I put my phone away and start to pull out of the spot in front of the building. Just in time for this cute green car to take it.

Part 18

#y/n #otiweo #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen x y/n #fanfic #lizzie olsen #elizabeth olsen x reader #coffee #mary kate olsen #mommy problems #issues #mommy issues #chinese food #sorry its so long and I don't know what to do #pumpkin #why the fuck is this so long omg im sorry #yelling #scremaing #crying #thorwing up

[sea-and-storm]

FFXIV Write 2022 Prompt #6: Onerous (Arukh)

To say that Arukh felt out of place walking amongst the seaside caverns of the Mankhadi udgan and their apprentices was but an understatement of woeful proportion.

Not only had it been the better part of two decades since last he had set foot upon his own people's lands, but even before his Choosing, he had never once walked these hallowed seaside corridors of stone and salt. None did, save for the Storm and the Sea's children. Such was a privilege - or a sentence - afforded only to those like his sister, favored by their gods. 

Occasionally, others of means were allowed brief entry when the need to consult with the tribe's advisors and lorekeepers arose. The khan of the Shuurga, for one, but never those of simpler origins such as himself. So whenever he had received the summons to speak directly with the Elder Stormcaller in her own Cloister, Arukh had been shocked.. but not exactly humbled by the invitation, for a host of his own personal reasons and misgivings.

He carried himself with spine straight and rigid as the well-worn blade he had been asked to leave behind before entry would be permitted. His face was a careful mask of neutrality, but the whitening of his scarred knuckles as his hands tightened into fists at his side might have betrayed more emotion than he wished. Not to mention the occasional thrash of the darkly scaled tail that followed in his wake.

If the older man next to him noticed the signs of his irritation, however, naught was said of it. Such was the way of him, as Arukh recalled, never one wont to invoke any manner of unnecessary conflict. Baidu Khan of the Shuurga had led his people through countless storms in his years, ever the steady hand that guided the clan through choppy waters but never the one to rock the boat upon which they sailed. 

When Arukh had been but a fresh-faced boy, he had admired Baidu's placid and measured carriage, every bit the image of the calm that lie within the Storm's eye. The Shuurga had always treated him with great respect and reverence precisely because of his even-keeled temper and his wisdom. 

Amongst the Kharlu, however, he'd heard no few cruel jests and insults levied at his former leader. Baidu the Coward, as he had heard the Kharlu warriors refer to him on no few occasions, was but the most mild of monikers of which he had learned. Such had irked him, but none had incensed him as much as hearing him denigrated and derided as Bayanbataar's most fruitful whore by one of the Kharlu fighters that had sought to get a rise out of him. 

He's given the Khan more children than all his wives combined, the man had sneered as he had poked and prodded for chinks in Arukh's normally impregnable, icy armor. Weak though they are, at least they're good to fall upon the sword in his true childrens' stead.

Arukh wasn't proud of the fact that the man had successfully found a weak spot that cracked his carefully maintained mask of detached apathy. He was proud, however, that he had handily laid his harasser out cold in the dirt in front of his own kin, and left him with a few less teeth in his head besides. 

As he fixed Baidu with a sidelong glance of his seaglass eyes, the battle-scarred warrior wondered if those same jeers had ever crossed the coastlands' winds back to his ears. He wasn't sure that even if they had, that the Mankhadi Khan would have done more than accept them in his usual silence. Worse, Arukh didn't know after having spent so much time amongst the Kharlu where might made right, if the thought of him turning the other cheek to the insult impressed him with Baidu's unflappability or disappointed him for its passivity. 

 "The Elder Stormcaller rarely leaves the Cloister these days," he explained as he escorted Arukh through the winding corridors carved out naturally by thousands of years of sea’s ingress. "Age catches up with her and her health is declining, which is why she has asked you come to her instead of answering your summons. I pray you will not take her request as a slight."

Something about the explanation and roundabout apology struck him, though it took a moment for him to place his thumb on the discomfort's source. It was that he spoke to Arukh with the same cool, careful deference that was normally reserved for the Kharlu anytime they descended upon their camp. Realizing that the other man viewed him now not as a former clansman sharing the bond of blood but as one of their brutal protectors that expected submission made Arukh’s stomach churn uneasily. 

Now it suddenly made much more sense why Baidu Khan himself had seen fit to guide him, rather than one of the handful of young apprentice udgan now quickly scurrying out of their way. The last Baidu had seen Arukh had been when he had been surrendered to the Kharlu, and surely he had never expected to see him returned. That he was here again now so many years later must’ve made clear that he had earned his place amongst them, rising from his former slavehood by merit of ferocity. The Kharlu considered him as one of their ilk now, even if he knew they would always view him as lesser. And considering that he had not shared the reason of his calling, the shrewd Khan would naturally be left with only the assumption that Arukh was here on their protector tribe’s behalf than a matter far more personal. 

His mouth opened at once to correct those surmised assumptions that Arukh suspected Baidu of harboring, but stopped short. He could not – would not – admit that he had come here upon Ghoa’s request to relay her messages. 

No one besides those she had tasked him with reaching could know that Bayanbataar’s Escaped Wife not only lived, but had recently set foot upon coastland soil once more. None could know that she sought to return one day besides. If word were to somehow make its way back to the Kharlu Khan’s ear, his unrelenting hunt for his sister would assuredly alight with renewed intensity fueled by more than a decade’s worth of pent up cruelty and frustration. The Far East had likewise become far easier to traverse in the wake of the defeat of the iron men of Garlemald than it had been when Ghoa had first fled, and so Arukh doubted not that Bayanbataar would send his finest trackers even beyond the Steppe’s furthest borders in pursuit of his greatest humiliation if given the chance.

The already tight fists at his side only tightened further with the knowledge that he could offer no reassurance to Baidu of his intentions without arousing suspicion. It kindled anger within his breast, to know that he would have to continue playing the role of the Kharlu envoy rather than that of the long-lost son of the sea returning to the shores of home. That he would have to endure being treated as an unwanted, untrusted stranger in his own homeland.

What an onerous duty this had suddenly become.. but one he certainly could not begrudge Ghoa for asking. Until Arukh could bring peace to these lands to clear the way for her safe return, it was the least she deserved.

“Elder Unegen,” Baidu announced as the pair reached the corridor’s end, opening into a wide cavernous cove that echoed with the soft churning of the waters pooled at its center and the ever-present drip of moisture off stone that would’ve driven Arukh mad to endure days in and days out. “Arukh Kharlu answers your summons, if you would kindly receive him.”

#ffxivwrite2022 #arukh mankhad #ghoa mankhad #baidu mankhad #unegen mankhad #bayanbataar kharlu #TWO DRABBLES IN ONE DAY HECC YEAH #also ive missed you big broa #which is good because i have a few other related arukh drabbles up my sleeve #may or may not also be setting the board for future things #coming soon to a steppe near you: lizard drama #my favorite #you know #if ghoa doesn't get herself offed in the current arc at least #wouldn't that be on brand

[ericsonclan]

Theme songs for the ericsons >:)

Okay so we tried our best to pick songs we associate with or feel fitting with each Ericson kid. We put the song title, artist, and a few lyrics that felt on point.

First, though we figured we do one that seemed right for the Ericson kids as a whole and that's How Far We've Come by Matchbox Twenty. "I'm waking up at the start of the end of the world. But it's feeling just like every other morning before. Now I wonder what my life is going to mean if it's gone." "Can you tell me what was ever really special about me all this time?"

Clem: One Foot by WALK THE MOON "Taking this one step at a time. I got your back if you got mine. One foot in front of the other."

Louis: One Little Slip by Barenaked Ladies "I guess, I probably took the wrong direction. Well, I admit I might have missed a sign or two. I ran a light past your affection. At humiliation avenue." "I get the feeling in this town. I'll never live 'til I live down. The one mistake that seems to follow me around. But they'll forget about the sky when they all realize this guy's about to try to learn to fly or hit the ground."

Violet: Easily by Grimes "Fly through the night, fly like everyone I know" "When you leave, I feel so defeated" "You come and go but I love you so"

Marlon: Stressed Out by twenty one pilots "I was told when I get older, all my fears would shrink. But now I'm insecure and I care what people think." "Wish we could turn back time. To the good ol' days." "But now we're stressed out."

Brody: The Show by Lenka "I'm just a little bit caught in the middle. Life is a maze, and love is a riddle. I don't know where to go, can't do it alone I've tried." "Slow it down. Make it stop. Or else my heart is going to pop. 'Cause it's too much."

Mitch: I'm Still Here by John Rzeznik "I am a question to the world. Not an answer to be heard." "I'm a boy, no, I'm a man. You can't take me and throw me away." "And how can the world want me to change? They're the ones that stay the same."

Aasim: I See Fire the cover by Peter Hollens "If this is to end in fire then we should all burn together." "I see fire, blood in the breeze and I hope that you'll remember me." "And if the night is burning. I will cover my eyes. For if the dark returns then my brothers will die."

Ruby: Lonestar by Norah Jones "Lonestar, where are you out tonight? This feeling I'm trying to fight. It's dark and I think that I would give anything for you to shine down on me."

Sophie: That's Amore by Dean Martin. Yeah, it's more of a goofier option but hey we listen to it and it gives us Sophie vibes, well our version at least. She gets a happy song because it's what she deserves.

Minnie: Poor Wayfaring Stranger by Peter Hollen (feat. The Swingles) this one is a cover of the original "I am a poor wayfaring stranger. While traveling through this world of woe. But there's no sickness, toil, or danger. In that bright land to which I go."

Tenn: Into the West the cover by Peter Hollens "Night is falling. You've come to journey's end. Sleep now. And dream of the ones who came before. They are calling from across the distant shore." "Why do you weep? What are these tears upon your face? Soon you will see. All of your fears will pass away."

Willy: C'mon (with Fun.) by Panic! at the Disco "With everything fallin' down around me. I'd like to believe in all the possibilities. If I should die tonight. May I first just say I'm sorry. For I never felt like anybody. I am a man of many hats, although I never mastered anything."

AJ: On My Way by Phil Collins "Tell everybody, I'm on my way. New friends and new places to see." "Not the snow, not the rain can change my mind."

Omar: Le Festin by Michael Giacchino & Camille Yes, it's from Ratatouille but just listen to it and imagine Omar smiling while cooking. It's the perfect song for him.

James: Burning Pile by Mother Mother "All I tried to save my face. All my guts, try to spill" "It goes, all my troubles on a burning pile. All lit up an I start to smile."

#twdg #twdg clementine #twdg louis #twdg violet #twdg marlon #twdg brody #twdg mitch #twdg aasim #twdg ruby #twdg sophie #twdg minnie #twdg tenn #twdg willy #twdg aj #twdg omar #twdg james #asks

[ohmyf-ck]

Why I love Rom-Coms: A blatant reminder for future in love me.

I am currently eight months into being twenty two years old and never have felt what it's like to feel love. By love, I mean the romantic kind;not the parent-child or friend love or the sometimes reluctant sibling love. No. I mean the type of love where you think about this particular person every waking hour (not in an obsessive stalker way, just the 'I wonder what they're doing when I'm not there' and 'Are they thinking about me right now?' Okay that does sound stalkerish (note to self: DON'T EVER DESCRIBE IT LIKE THAT TO ANYONE ELSE...EVER!)) Anyway, what I mean to say is that I have never felt the innate need to spontaneously start slow dancing in the kitchen to 'old' music with the person I adore (obviously the nonexistent as of current).

I'm not entirely to sure why I have decided to write this at 2:22 in the morning; whether it's because I just finished watching 'The Broken Hearts Club' on Netflix for the first time or whether it's because I feel incredibly lonely. Let's be honest, as it is, you enjoy watching these sappy fictional stories just so the masochist in you receives some form of gratification. I am really starting to believe that I watch and read these love stories in order to either remind myself how exponentially alone I am OR to remind myself and instead, choose to ignore it by throwing myself into someone else's love story (real or fake) in order to at least feel a sliver of something.

At this point in my life, everyone I pretty much know is in a relationship. My older brother is 18 months older than me and as of current, engaged, expecting a beautiful, bouncing baby boy and is well on the way to buying a house.

My little sister is three years younger than I am and the 'wild child', if you will. She is currently in her second relationship of the year (go her). She claims to love this one and I guess she is the only one that can decide her true feelings.

My point is, when all I see around me is people in 'love' when I haven't even come close to holding hands in a romantic way, is a pain that is indescribable in itself. You can't say it's like heartbreak because to me, heartbreak is a process of mending...healing. I also wouldn't say that it's like grief either because how am I supposed to miss something that I have never had to opportunity to experience in the first place? I guess what I'm trying to get at in a round about way is that the feeling could best be described as a misplaced longing. Now the reason I refer to it as 'misplaced' is because in reality I have everything that one would require to be happy in life. Don't get me wrong, I am incredibly happy but as of right now, I feel like a jigsaw missing the last piece (so cheesy). Plenty of people have said to me, "You're young, you have time." OR the dreaded, "Well, you can't rush it, your time will come."

The thing is I know it's true, my time will come - eventually. However, it is heart wrenching to be the only one without a significant other at family gatherings. When all of a sudden you get cornered by an old relative that you haven't seen in a while asking why you don't have a partner and how "anyone would be lucky to have you".

Now, stick with this next bit... it's a relevant tangent but a tangent all the same. So, do you remember your ex best friend? The one that basically mentally abused you and drained every ounce of emotion out of you like the energy vampire they were? Well, ever since you 'broke up' with them, do you remember what your Step-Dad (bless his heart) would always reassure you with? He would say, "Do you know what I see when I look at you? I see a person that someone is going to get the honour of loving one day." Now you're probably thinking, what has this got to do with anything? I think, the reason I bring this up is to remind myself that I enjoy watching these films and consuming this type of media because it gives me a chance to find characters with similar or the exact same qualities as me, recieving the love that they deserve. In doing so, although I am left feeling lonely and empty after these films, once I have had enough time to process...I realise that the qualities that I see as annoying or weird do have a possibility of being just as loved as anything else. And that, well that gives me a fuzzy comfort blanket of a reminder that to love someone truly is to wait for the right time in your life.

#incessant ramblings #sappy shit #Spotify

[malevolentbooks]

23: Pitch

"Okay, so you know this game that's out there, it's called Final Fantastic Fourteen or something?"

"Fourteen? It has that many sequels and this is the first time you've told me about it?"

"They're not sequels. It's not a movie or book, it's a video game."

"Video game? Aren't they they competition?"

"Yes, but I think this one can be condensed into a movie that will win all those kids over."

"You do? Your pitch is that there is a video game that we can adapt into a movie? Do you even have a script? Do you remember how well the Thumb Reader franchise took off, even with a model playing Luna Crowfeet? It was a disaster!"

"I know, but this one is different. I found a prospect written by one of the kids that plays the game. They call it 'Fanfic' or some such thing, but it has everything that we want these days."

"And it will get their butts into seats in a theatre?"

"Absolutely! It's even off the older material, so everybody will be able to follow it!"

"Okay, show me what you've got. If I like it, it's your baby. If I don't, you'll never work again in this town!"

***

Working Title: The Many Loves of Tataru Taru

Scene: A generic dusty street with fantasy/sci-fi looking buildings.

Script follows:

***

Yda had been absolutely brutal in her evaluation of Papalymo’s lack of courage.  More importantly, she had been correct.  The last galled him more than the first.

Driven as much by shame as anger, he now stood at the door to the Waking Sands. He held a bouquet of expensive flowers as large as he was in one hand, and a box of chocolates in the other.  He was ready, finally ready, to reveal his love for dear Tataru.  

“Nothing can stand in my way this time!” He thought as he felt the blood rush to his…uh…head…and he contemplated the adoring look that would fill her eyes when they were finally able to acknowledge the simmering love the two of them had long held for each other despite her clever attempts to conceal her great ardor by barely addressing him by name and moreover refusing to approve much of his expense paperwork no matter how many copies he sent.

Papalymo noticed that his flowers had begun to sag a bit as his fist tightened and crushed the base of the stems.  He took a deep breath to relax and moved his grip slightly up the bundle, relieved that he had gone with the long-stemmed versions despite them being significantly more expensive.  With no additional flowers these must be protected, though in the event that the chocolates were not acceptable he did have an array of fruits and baked goods outside.

As he reached for the door handle his concentration was suddenly thrown off by the impact of a bullet hitting it.  

The door, not his hand.  

He spun quickly, unable to gesture in any meaningful magical way without dropping the flowers or chocolates, so instead he glared menacingly in the rough direction that he suspected the bullet may have come from.

“Going somewhere?” Wedge growled, as he raised his smoking pistol to point upwards, slowly lowering it onto his shoulder in a move that despite showing every sign of being just custom emote was still pretty cool.

Papalymo narrowed his eyes in a way that clearly communicated threat even to those who are not used to being threatened.  “It is none of your business where I am going, Blimp-boy.” He snarled, reaching for an insult where he had prepared nothing because…Wedge?  Really?

Wedge smiled a relaxed but still somehow forced smile as he realized that his pistol was currently unloaded and tried to wonder if he could get another cartridge into it before Papalymo was able to drop his flowers and chocolate and cast a spell while he at the same time tried not to let this wonder get in the way of making his conversation seem calm and relaxed.

“If it involves the lady Tataru then it is very much my business.” He growled between clenched teeth, doing his best to still make his enunciation clear since they’d both likely been deafened by the recent gunshot.  “Also” he said, unclenching his teeth to give the proper depth of explanation required, “Both the Tiny Bronco and the Enterprise are more semi-rigid airships rather than blimps, so the taxonomy of your insult is largely incorrect.”

Angry yet unwilling to casually dispose of his two courting burdens, Papalymo could only glare at his opponent as he inwardly stewed about having been shown wrong not just to his comedy-relief melee-centric partner, but to a minor character present only for highly expressive emote reactions and as fan service to an entirely different fandom about which he could have no inward understanding despite their huge overlap on the level of societal pursuers.

Wedge, understanding on some level that his status as a minor character put him at some disadvantage began to become gravely concerned that he was about to start a cut scene that would later be featured on the “Tragic Gaming NPC Deaths” YouTube channel felt the need to offer an initial compromise.  “Are…those the long-stemmed irises?” he stammered.

“Yesssss.” Papalymo responded sibilantly, appreciating that somebody had noticed but not quite sure where this particular conversational element had come from and wondering if this part of the conversation was just a side-effect of a hasty and uncorrected translation from the original Japanese-language script.  “I’d better not be in a cutscene.” He muttered to himself.

“Those must have been expensive.” Wedge considered out loud, noting his own lack of gifts of any sort.  “Who can afford long-stemmed irises on a minor NPC’s salary?” He mused inwardly.

“I know, right?” Papalymo answered in an uncharacteristic but expected and accepted fanfic response that would not be further referenced.  He did not address the comment stated inwardly since he did not see it and prided himself on not metagaming.

“I’ll tell you what.”  Wedge stated in a telling way.  “Why don’t you put the flowers and chocolate down on that big pile of fruit and baked goods beside you, and while you’re doing that I’ll reload so we can start even?”

Cognizant of what he had done to the flower stems earlier, and both heartened by and slightly miffed at the mention of his gift-giving excess, Papalymo nodded and the two of them frantically went about their separate activities.  He finished and summoned the elemental forces just as he noted Wedge levelling his now reloaded pistol his direction.

Before either of them could loose the destruction reined in by their fingertips another voice rose over the tense scene.

“Hold thy aim and suspend such puissant tumult as you both endeavor to inflict on one another.  Your duality is not the lone pursuant to the affections of the diminutive ingenue Lady Tataru!” a voice called out in diction as confusing as it was archaic.

Papalymo and Wedge both turned in in bafflement as Urianger stepped around a corner.  He started lowering his hood to aid the shock of recognition before realizing that he never did that as his speech patterns were unmistakable enough and instead fiddled with his ears in a casual way hoping that observers would simply see it as a graphical artifact of a modified emote or clipping error.    “T’were t’wixt between the t’wo of t’you” Urianger started before pausing to get his apostrophes under control, “ere would naught be ascertained less true ruination would be templatively transfixed upon your binary persons.”

Wedge and Papalymo shot each other a confused glance, both pulling out a dictionary to look up several of Urianger’s words.  The action paused briefly as Wedge walked over to show Papalymo one definition that still confounded him and appeared only in Wedge’s dictionary since as a minor NPC he was only able to afford a older, cheaper volume that treated archaic phrasing as if it were still current.  They resumed their adversarial stance after this consultation.

Their momentary truce over, Wedge and Papalymo both looked over to Urianger realizing they had no idea how threatened they should feel since at this point nobody knew what his class or job might be aside from “obscure”.  Their rumination was interrupted by the sudden arrival of a cooling breeze and the slow, echoing steps of yet another suitor’s arrival.

Thancred walked up the sidewalk with a cool Fonzarellian demeanor, pausing to pose in a way that set the other three already present aback.  “She’s mine, man.” he said, addressing the first person singular at nobody in particular, a grammatical variation that would have been concerning in any conversation that did not already involve Urianger.

A brief standoff ensued as all considered their next moves, then a storm of actions all at once.

A vast ball of fire erupted from Papalymo.  Wedge fired his pistol as fast as he could reload, and Thancred hurled an array of cutlery matched only in variety by its volume.  Urianger did…whatever it was he did when not committing heinous acts of language. 

The battle was interrupted by a female voice that cut through the ever-growing sea of testosterone.  “Don’t be so quick to claim her, boys!” Moenbryda cried as she charged around the corner.  “Her gender relationship options are still open at this point!”

“You’re not even in the story yet!” Thancred yelled at her, tossing yet more cutlery her way.

“Maybe not”, she countered laughing, her delightfully asymmetric hair being gently blown by Thancred’s cool breeze.  “But the fans love me and so will she!”  This brought a growl from Thancred who did not at all like anybody else getting milage off of his cool, never mind using it to court a girl he was after.  He responded with the usual rain of cutlery because…yeah…

Suddenly from nearby Lord Commander Amyeric’s voice could be heard laying claim to Tataru’s affections as he and a half-dozen other assorted and unrelated NPCs rounded the corner and joined the fight.  Magic and weapons flew all around.

Meanwhile, inside the Waking Sands, Minfilia dropped a dozen reams of papers on Tataru’s desk, smiling as she butt-wigglingly walked away to wherever she went when not in her office.  Tataru just sighed and watched her go, small emotive hearts circling her head, as she started on the latest set of paperwork that would keep her up for the third consecutive night.

***

"By all that's holy, I don't even know what most of this means! Who are all these people? What is going on?"

"See, that's the beauty of it, sir. We can pay the writer a pittance because she's already completed the work, and all these people will already know the characters, so we don't need to spend any time defining them. We just need to worry about what overpaid actor to hire for each role, and what the final poster looks like."

"Yeah? Great, I'm smelling money already. What do you think of Scarlet Johansson as that one girl's role?"

"Which girl's role, sir?"

"I don't care, pick one!"

"She's perfect for it! Brilliant casting!"

"Good, here's thirty million dollars! Get things moving. I'm seeing golden statues with this one!"

"I'm right with you sir. Just in time for summer blockbuster season, I'm sure!"

#FFxivWrite2022 #FFxivWrite #FFxiv

[iidigestive-readerii]

Gonna do some homework before bed, but thinking about some Satine Kryze holiday feelings.

Like Satine missing the atmosphere and annual snowfalls of Kalelava, and wishing the domes could be removed faster but the air pollution outside is still awful from the civil wars.

She probably tries her best to attend all these social events, and everyone loves her being there because usually she brings one of her many Tookas on a leash and dressed up for the holidays.

Children's hospitals are her favorite, because she gets to hand out presents and talk to families and play board games with kids and generally let her guard down around her people, because it's the holidays and the quiet grief in children's hospitals is suspended for a few days.

Korkie goes with her when he's older, he loves the light reveals and decoration challenges and often gets involved. His eyes sparkle around the holidays, and no one ever says anything about his very over-large brown robe. (A certain Jedi's perhaps??)

And during the Clone Wars the outings become more treasured, even as little things like hot cocoa or mints or baking supplies is in short supply. Because everyone across the Galaxy always tries to relax a bit, and Mandalorians are no different. Even Death Watch calls a cease fire a few years in a row, because they hate Satine but they're a community too, the kids need an enjoyable holiday.

Satine can usually be found at various charities and shelters, whether they be for teens or women or animals. It's always something she does, at least once a week during the year, but when there's suddenly a massive donation, no one says anything.

No one ever makes a comment about that red-haired Jedi that sometimes shows up, arm around her waist or making the teen laugh or preventing another Tooka from destroying a perfect tree. It's not their business. (But they do make the Holo-mag covers every year when Obi-Wan inevitably showers her in kisses under the mistletoe. It's just what happens).

I imagine presents aren't really a thing in their household, because they all spend so little time together that time is all they need. Baking and watching movies is their sacred tradition, until Korkie falls asleep on the couch with his Tookas piled ontop of him.

Satine always has to make sure he has a blanket, because she's a mother first and foremost, and Obi-Wan always cries because he isn't always there on holidays and he tries to take mental snapshots of these precious moments.

She loves to give gifts, and leaves a signed book series for Korkie on the caf table for when he wakes up. To Obi-Wan she usually gives him something small like tea or fine whiskey or something practical, like woolen socks or a new blanket. And sex. Definitely sex.

And now I'm sitting here thinking about space-holidays and I wonder how many jokes were made in the Kryze-Kenobi about using Yoda as a tree topper or using lightsabers as ornaments.

#satine kryze #obi wan kenobi #korkie kryze #space Christmas #life day #i guess #Star Wars #obitine #ii digestive reader ii

[wfanfic56]

How? | Behind us | Weaver x reader

Chapter 3

Six of them were listening to you carefully and watching every evidence you put on the table in front of them. Every address, code, password, phone number you knew, you told them, but neither of you knew that it would be the main key to Perseus.

Hudson nodded and he politely asked you to note it down on one paper. When you've done it, everyone stood up and planned the mission, but only three members of the team, Belikov, Weaver and you, aren't going anywhere.

Belikov doesn't have American accent, Weaver is known for his eye patch, and you weren't mobile. It was a little bit of awkward, you were between two of them, sitting on a couch while you were watching a movie that Belikov rented this morning. It was fun watching comedy with them, until Belikov fell asleep. Weaver and you chuckled and turned off the TV. He helped you to stand up and gave you your walking stick.

"Thank you, Grigori. I'll go now. I don't want to leave you with no bed." you chuckled

"You're welcome here anytime."

It was awkward that you got close in a day, maybe because you wanted to be professional. You picked up your coat and left the apartment.

There was a noise in hallway. There were people talking in Russian.

Она должна быть здесь / She should be here.

Этот предатель изменил свою сторону / This traitor changed her side.

They came for you, and you slowly came back in apartment. Pale as you have seen a ghost, Weaver came to you.

"Y/N? What happened?"

"They came for me. They're in front of my apartment and they're here to kill me and anyone with me."

"Belikov, wake your ass up. Y/N don't worry about it, okay? We will take care of it. Go in my office and take my gun. I will knock you if I want to come in."

So you did exactly what he told you and you waited them. You heard thumping through the walls of apartment. You held his gun and a knife ready to attack, but then Belikov called for you to come out and help him patch Weaver up.

You came out of the office and took first aid kit and sat beside Weaver.

"Belikov what happened?"

"They were in your apartment and when we came in they attack us with knifes. We killed them, but they scratched Weaver a bit."

"It's nothing, scratch on a face and on arm. It's nothing to worry about."

"Belikov, if you haven't pick up our documents, go and pick it up. I will patch Grigori." you waited Belikov to go and pick everything he needs then you turned to Weaver and slowly cleaning his wounds. "Thank you Grigori, but you should have been careful, both of you."

"It's nothing, I just told you."

"Maybe it's not for you, but for me it is. If it was deeper you could loose your arm. Do I have a permission to clean your wound on your cheek?"

"Just go for it." you sat on his lap, your right hand slowly moves his head on left side so you could clean his right cheek. His hands were holding you for your waist.

"Thank you. As I said, you could have more complicates than you have now." but Weaver didn't pay attention to what you were saying. Instead he was paying attention to details about you.

Your body shape was perfect, your touch was melting and your voice. Oh how he loves it. How could a woman like you end in KGB? How could a woman like you be a killer like he is? How would you fall in love with a man 15 years older than you? Grigori was lost in his thoughts and you saw it, so you decided to reward him for helping you.

You took his chin with your thumb and index finger and pull him closer to your lips. His eyes widened, looking at you in disbelief, wondering how is this happening.

"Thank you for saving me." and you gave him a small yet meaningful kiss, which you didn't expect it would be caught by your close friend.

#call of duty #cod #black ops cold war #call of duty black ops cold war #cod bocw #call of duty black ops #grigori weaver #grigori weaver x reader #jason hudson #russell adler #dimitri belikov #frank woods #alex mason cod

[elizabeethan]

Overboard: 1/1

Emma Swan spends years trying to find her parents, and when she finally does, she gets more than she bargains for

A Silver Hook AU for @the-darkdragonfly

hours of watching Wicked Tuna has ruined me and thus this AU was born. Sorry...

Thank you to @the-darkdragonfly, @donteattheappleshook, and @xhookswenchx for listening to my ramblings

Rated M

Read on Ao3

Read my other stuff

~~~~

The sun pours through his blinds, assaulting the lids of her eyes as she squeezes them shut. Delicate fingers dance across the expanse of her bare stomach, making her giggle before she even has the wherewithal to stop herself. As sleep leaves her assuredly, she should feel irritated, but she feels nothing but comfort in her bedmates arms. 

 “It’s rude to wake people up,” she chastises, and his answering hum is deep and rumbling against the skin below her ear. “Shouldn’t you have learned your manners by now?”

“Are you making fun of my age?”

 “I wouldn’t dream of it,” she whispers back, giggling as he pokes his tongue against her skin and then nips at it lightly. 

 “That’s good. Because one mustn’t disrespect one's elder.” 

 “And you are quite a bit older than me,” she points out in jest, rolling onto her right side to face him straight on, her smile beaming as the sun lights her golden hair. He distracts himself from their morning banter to run his fingers delicately over her temple, tracing over the shell of her ear as he tucks a wayward strand behind it. 

 “I seem to recall you being a bit more appreciative last night. What was it you said? Something about my extensive practice?”

 Emma hums softly, nuzzling her face into the skin of his palm as she recalls their rather satisfying evening. “It’s true,” she tells him. “With great age comes great experience.” 

 Killian laughs, refusing to let his thoughts of being too old for her taunt him. “I can assure you, I’m not nearly as experienced as you may believe.” 

With a small shrug, Emma wriggles under the thin sheet that covers them until she can sling her legs over his own. “You’ve got a good decade on me. And trust me, you know what you’re doing.” 

Killian falters, holding her cheek with his palm again as he pushes away more thoughts of self doubt. He stops himself from correcting her- fourteen years, love- and chooses instead to lift his head high enough to meet her lips with his. In the six months that he’s known her, he’s been endlessly fascinated by her free spiritedness. And in the four months since she joined him in his bed, hardly giving him much of a choice to deny her of what she so desperately wanted, he’s been unable to go much more than an hour without thoughts of her plaguing his mind. Thoughts of her body and her mind and her most alluring personality. 

 He’s falling for her, of this he is completely certain. 

 She grins against him in response to the groan that escapes his throat, her tongue lightly tracing the lines of his collarbone and making it that much harder for him to consider getting out of bed. “I’ll surely have a mutiny on my hands if you don’t stop now, love.” 

 Humming in question, Emma sits up and gives him a look of disgruntled confusion. “Your crew is going to be mad that you’re getting laid?” 

 With a smirk, one that he tries to fight, he shakes his head and says, “my crew is going to be mad if I miss another day on the water.” 

 Rolling her eyes, she responds, “I suppose I can’t keep you from your livelihood forever,” in concession. 

 He rolls them easily, Emma much lighter in weight than his usual catches as he flips her onto her back and latches his mouth to her neck. “That’s very considerate of you, siren,” he says against her warm flesh. 

 “I told you, I’m not a damn mermaid,” she says, likely rolling her eyes before she lets out a soft sigh. 

 “Aye, but I find myself struggling to believe you as you continue to seduce me with your wicked ways.” 

 Snorting softly, she meets his mouth with her own, sucking his bottom lip into her mouth gently and tracing her tongue along the tip of his own. She lets her hands wander, careful not to get too explorative with the knowledge that he should be getting up soon as she scrapes her fingers down the taute skin of his back. Despite her jokes, she really doesn’t want to keep him from his vessel. She knows his crew relies on their captain to bring them out each day, especially as the season comes to a close and the pressure to catch becomes more and more. But the way he kisses her gives her other ideas all together. 

 “I think one day I’d like to go out with you,” she hums thoughtfully against his mouth, and he stills anxiously. When they first met upon her first coming to town, Killian was almost embarrassed to tell her what he does for a living for fear of her judgment. Her genuine grin as he explained the way his family has been fishing for generations quelled his nerves, but still it felt like his profession wouldn’t be good enough for the likes of her. 

 “It can be quite dangerous,” he tells her instead, wanting not to dwell on the twinge of embarrassment that sits in the pit of his stomach at the thought of her watching on as he battles each and every paycheck he earns. 

 “I’m sure you’ll keep me safe,” she flirts, tenderly stroking her long fingers through the hair at the base of his scalp and smiling softly up at him. The sun catches her eyes again, the emerald reminding him of the warm ocean water stirred up after a rough storm. 

 His smile is sad and awkward as he turns his face from hers, glancing out the window at the horizon. “I’m sure there are better ways for you to pass your time visiting our sleepy little town.”  

 “Killian,” she says more firmly, moving her hands to cup his cheeks and encourage him to look back down at her. “You know I don’t plan on leaving anytime soon.” 

 The look in his eyes when they finally meet hers cracks her hardened heart, his anticipation of rejection something she knows all too well. “No one would blame you for heading back to Boston, love.” 

 She shakes her head. “I came here to meet my parents. To get to know them. And while that’s still important to me… they're not the only reason I’m sticking around.” 

 He feels selfish, foolish, as he gazes into her deep, soulful eyes. Of course he knows that Emma has a reason to stay in town, but when she says that he’s a part of that, he becomes consumed with a sense of desperate want. A desire to become all of that for her. An insatiable craving to become everything to her. 

 Of course, he’s never had much of a way with words. Thoughts, that’s a different story. But getting those thoughts out of his mouth and into the air between them is almost impossible. So, rather than express himself to her in the way that any mature adult should be able to, he leans down and captures her lips with his in a kiss that he hopes tells her everything that she deserves to know. 

 “You're going to be late,” she murmurs against him. “And as much as it would be nice to meet your friends, I’d rather not do so while I’m naked in your bed. I have a feeling they’re going to come knocking down your door if you don’t get to the docks.” 

 “Aye,” he agrees. “Hopefully we get lucky today and I can come back in relatively early. Will sometimes loses the plot if we come in empty handed.” 

 She rolls her eyes, prepared to make fun of how painfully British he sounds as he crawls over her to the edge of the bed, giving her a rather distracting view of his ass. He may be quite a few years older than her, but the physical nature of his work, and his devotion to his crew leading to him doing as much work as they do, gives him a physique that she isn’t shy about ogling. 

 “Will you tell me when you get in?” she asks shyly, the two of them playing off of the others insecurities without meaning to. “I mean, you don’t have to. But I’d like to see you--” 

 He cuts her off with his mouth on hers, leaning over her so that the stubble on his chin scratches against hers. “Normally, if we catch something, we bring it to the harbormaster to have it dressed and weighed. Perhaps I can inform you when we’re there? And meet you afterwards?” 

 She smiles up at him, careful not to let his words stall her as she considers their content. Perhaps it should have been obvious by now, that a local fisherman should have to deal with the harbormaster on a fairly regular basis, but the topic has never come up and so it’s stayed far from the front of her mind. “Okay,” she finally chokes out nervously. She’s always been good at hiding the intricacies of how she’s feeling, but given the way his eyes narrow at her, she wonders if she’s losing her touch. “I look forward to it.” 

 “Very good. Perhaps you’d… that is… I wonder if you’d be amenable to--” 

 “Killian.” 

 He clears his throat, standing from the bed and stepping away from the mattress to grab one of his aged knit sweaters. He’s rather old school in his techniques, she’s found, and the old fisherman sweaters that he wears out on his small fishing vessel are no exception. 

 Watching as he wrestles a pair of jeans over his legs, she giggles and sits up, bringing his thin sheet with her to cover her breasts modestly. Finally, while he stands by the door and fascens his watch to his wrist, he asks, “I simply wondered if you’d perhaps be interested in joining me for… a meal.” 

 Emma sits stoically still under his sheets as he fiddles around the room anxiously, refusing to look her way out of embarrassment and fear of rejection. She knows the feeling well, so she sits and waits for his eyes to dart in her direction before she gives him a soft, encouraging smile. “Are you asking me out?” she finally asks, and she watches his throat bob up and down before he turns to face her. 

 Clearing his throat, he says, “ah, I suppose I am.” 

 Really, it’s about bloody time he asks. Each time they’ve been together-- each time they’ve been anywhere near each other-- it’s been with her making the first move. He should be grateful for her willingness to take the leap that they both want to take, but after four months, he figures he’d best put his fears aside and grow a pair already. 

 It’s not that he thinks she’ll say no, although rejection is painful enough. His worry is that she’ll say yes, and eventually realize how much better she could have it. He’s a forty-year-old fisherman, for goodness sake. At only just twenty-six, she could certainly land a man with a more respectable, more lucrative, less deadly job, and that fact isn’t lost on him. It hasn’t been since the moment he first saw her at The Rabbit Hole six months ago. 

 She hums happily, smiling up at him and nodding. “I guess this means you’ll have to come in tonight. Better catch a good one, Captain.” 

 ~~~~

 “Oi, he lives!” Will calls from the dock next to Killian’s small boat, grinning and shoveling a pile of ice into the compartment under the deck. “We were worried you’d forgotten about us.” 

 “No,” Killian replies simply, shaking his head and climbing aboard. He makes his way into the wheelhouse, dropping his bag and turning the engine over. “We’ll need to get fuel before we head out.” 

 “Something you forgot to do last night? Perhaps you were too busy?” Robin asks, winking at his captain. 

 He rolls his eyes rather than responding, turning the engine on and checking the gauges as he listens to his mates making assumptions about his whereabouts. 

 When they finally get out onto the water, they avoid the other boats in the fleet in favor of finding solitude. A lot of the other captains think that Killian has some secret knowledge about the best places to drop anchor, but really, he just listens to his gut and gets lucky most of the time. 

 “So,” Will starts once they’ve put their lines out and chummed the water. “The blonde?”

 Killian glares at his deckhand and friend, unwilling to give him much information about what he gets up to when they’re not at sea. He knows they did a piss poor job of keeping things quiet when they started up… whatever it is that they’ve started up, what with Emma practically jumping him after a few too many flirty comments were exchanged between the two of them. Everyone in the Rabbit Hole saw them that night, Emma’s fingers tightly gripping the lapels of his jacket and his sliding under her shirt and into her hair. Everyone saw them leaving together, too. His desire to hide her away and ensure that no one ever finds out about them is wholly unreachable at this point. He only wishes that he could quell his own fears about the judgment that the townsfolk must be passing on them. Emma is young, Killian is decidedly not. Emma can do better, Killian is batting far out of his league. Emma is an energetic young lady with her whole life and an endless amount of opportunities in front of her, Killian is a mildly successful fisherman. He can’t ever hope to be good enough for her, and the whole town knows it. 

 “Aye, the blonde,” he finally mumbles, wishing he could dive into the waves and never be heard from again. 

 “She’s quite something.” 

 “Aye.” 

 “A few years younger than you, if I had to guess.” 

 He glares to his left as Will continues to reel in some herring to use for bait, catching five at once without even blinking. Their age difference isn’t a secret, and it isn’t difficult to pick up on by simply observing the two of them for a few moments. The wrinkles around Killian’s eyes and the gray peppered throughout his hair and concentrated at his temples makes his age quite obvious. Meanwhile, Emma’s flawless physique and supple skin gives way to her youth, although her maturity is observable as well. One couldn’t possibly guess her to be a day over twenty-eight, and even then, she may seem too young for him. 

 Finally, he agrees, “aye.” 

 “Well, I think they make a lovely couple,” Robin supplies, poking his head out of the wheelhouse. “Sorry sod deserves a bit of happiness, finally.” 

 Rolling his eyes, Killian can’t help but agree with his friend’s sentiment. Despite the awkwardness and the assumptions of others, he can’t deny how happy he’s been since she rolled into town. And he definitely can’t deny how much happier he’s been in the last four months since she went home with him. 

 “I’m not sure she’ll be in town much longer,” Killian finally says after too much silence passes between the three of them, their lines quiet and the ocean seemingly empty below them. 

 “Didn’t she come searching for her parents?” 

 “Aye, she found them when she first arrived. But I can’t imagine her sticking around… I believe she simply wanted to get to know them a bit and then head back to Boston.”

 Will and Robin must read the shift in his mood easily, the obvious disdain for the idea of her leaving Storybrooke and going back to the busy city where she could so easily meet someone worthy of her time. Perhaps he should let her go himself, be the one to make the difficult decision for them so as to not drag things out too long, but he’s a glutton for punishment and can’t possibly consider the idea of being separated from Emma Swan for a second longer than he absolutely has to be. 

 Rather than continuing the topic and torture Killian with thoughts of Emma inevitably leaving him, they change the subject to something equally as painful when Will jokes, “I’m sure her parents love you, aye? That age difference must have gone over well with dear-old-dad.” 

 Killian cringes and shakes his head. “I doubt they even know about me. I certainly don’t know much about them, aside from what she’s told me.”

 “So she talks about that stuff with you?” 

 “Aye.” Will make a face, clearly surprised at his statement, and glances over at Robin suspiciously. “What?” 

 Robin shakes his head, casting another bait line, and says, “Nothing, we both just assumed it was just sex, that’s all.”

 “What do you mean?” he asks curiously. It’s not because this is just sex to him, but because he’s curious about what they seem to think makes it not just sex for Emma. 

 Will laughs lightly, cheering when he brings in another line full of herring. “Mate, if she’s talking about her family, it’s not just sex.” 

 He hums thoughtfully, supposing that must be true. Emma wouldn’t confide in him about her upbringing— and her trauma, and her fears of abandonment— unless she was comfortable with him, would she? She wouldn’t have tried to process her feelings surrounding her adoption if she didn’t trust him, would she? She wouldn’t have agreed to a date with him tonight if some part of her didn’t like him, right? 

 “I love the look on his face when realization strikes,” Will jokes, bumping Killian with his elbow. He looks like he’s about to say more, perhaps another jest, perhaps something that will give Killian more insight into his companionship, but the radar starts marking fish and they each stand still and silent in anticipation. 

 The line starts clicking with the indication that something may be going for the bait, and when the reel begins screaming as the fish in question tries to escape, they jump into action. There’s shouting and running and fierce reeling, and it’s almost enough to get Killian’s mind off of Emma bloody Swan. 

 ~~~~

 Emma tries not to drag her feet as she makes her way down the main dock, the chilled ocean air sending a shiver down her spine despite her borrowing Mary Margaret’s windbreaker. With the season coming to close in a few weeks, the late fall weather sends a damp chill through her bones that she isn’t used to despite growing up in Minnesota. 

 It’s not as if she isn’t excited to see David this evening. She’s been spending time with him and Mary Margaret, and their son Leo as well, fairly regularly since she’s come to town. But things have been awkward to say the least. 

 She didn’t know about her brother when she arrived in Storybrooke. Finding out about him, finding out that he’s just turned eighteen, making them almost eight years apart, hurt a bit. Of course she understands that people change a lot in eight years. But the fact is, her parents had her and gave her away. They had her brother and raised him. It stings. 

 It stings. But it isn’t something any of them can change now. So she puts it behind her, just like Ingrid taught her. 

 If she wasn’t raised by such a soft, caring woman for most of her life, Emma’s certain she would be a different person from who she’s become. She had every chance to build walls as high as the eye can see, but Ingrid broke them down little by little from the day she welcomed Emma into her house when she was eight years old. After being given back by two families in a row, she was seen as broken, as damaged goods, as a stray no one could truly want. But Ingrid saw through her trauma and her bad behavior and welcomed her with open arms. 

 When she became sick, Ingrid gave Emma all of the information she was able to dig up on her parents. It wasn’t much to go on, and Emma initially refused to use any of it for fear of hurting her mother’s feelings. She didn’t want to make Ingrid feel like she was trying to replace her by finding her birth parents. But as Ingrid lay on her deathbed, the ovarian cancer too much for her frail frame to fight any longer, she begged Emma to seek her parents out, telling her that she deserves answers. That no matter the choice they made all those years ago, they deserve to know the beautiful woman they brought into this world. 

 She couldn’t exactly turn her down. So, traumatized and heartbroken, she put all that she had into expanding upon her mother’s research until finally, almost two years later, she found them. 

 David and Mary Margaret Nolan. She found them in a small fishing town off the coast of Maine, well known on the East Coast for their lucrative bluefin tuna fishing season. 

 It wasn’t exactly what she expected. And when she knocked on their door and a gangly teenager answered, she’ll admit to feeling slighted. 

 Okay, perhaps irrationally angry is more accurate. And if her method of coping was to go to the first bar she could find and get completely obliterated, so be it. The handsome man in the soft, cream colored sweater helping her to her room at Granny’s was an added bonus. 

 “Hey, Ems,” David calls from his makeshift desk where he does all of his accounting and paperwork. She’s sat here a few times before, but found herself bored out of her mind in a matter of minutes as she watched him work over his ledgers. 

 “Hi,” she greets back. She’s found that she doesn’t really call them anything. It doesn't feel right to call them mom or dad, because she had a mom. And while David may be her biological father, he isn’t really her dad. So instead, she doesn’t address them as anything. 

 “I’ve got a couple of boats coming in,” he informs her. “Season’s almost over, so the fish are big this time of year. You may get to see some record-breakers.” 

 “Cool,” she smiles, taking a seat on the folding table he sits at all day, cringing as it creaks under her weight. 

 “I think your… I think Mary Margaret is gonna come out tonight too. We were thinking of grabbing dinner. You know, celebrate the weekend, and all that.” 

 With a small grin coloring her features, her heart skips a beat at the thought of the sailor hopefully making his way to shore as they speak. She doesn’t doubt that he’s on his way, but she isn’t sure how happy he’ll be if he comes in empty handed and with an angry crew. “I actually have plans,” she tells him with a blush. 

 “Dinner plans?” 

 “Yep,” she answers with a nod. “A date.” 

 “A date,” David says, his brows drawing close together as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Who are you--” 

 He’s interrupted by his wife, her excited voice carrying across the length of the docks as she hurries towards them. “Emma!” she shouts as she gets closer. “Hi, honey!” 

 She tenses slightly at the title, still feeling uncomfortable when she hears words of affection coming from the woman who gave birth to her. She smiles anyway, waving softly and hopping off of the table, letting the woman embrace her briefly before pulling away. “Hi.” 

 “Did your father ask you to dinner? We figured we’d celebrate the weekend starting. Plus, it seems like the fleet did really well this week, doesn't it, David? The buyers are always more generous at the end of the season--” 

 “Emma has plans,” David cuts her off. “A date.” 

 “A date?”

 “A date.” 

 “Do you guys mind?” she asks, only half joking. It’s been hard enough opening up to them and letting them into her heart and her personal life. She does try to not use humor as a way to keep them at a distance, really. 

 Mary Margaret clears her throat, smiling at Emma sweetly and only a bit awkwardly. “Who is your date with, sweetheart?” 

 “Well,” she starts turning to face David, “you might actually know him.” 

 “Oh, hold that thought for just a second, Ems. A boat’s coming in.” 

 She turns to face the water below them, noting the modestly sized vessel floating towards the loading dock. Two crewmen stand outside, grabbing for ropes as they pull themselves against the dock while the captain stands in the wheelhouse, diligently watching as he guides the boat. She smiles at the sight, taking in his ruffled appearance and the fact that he’s changed his sweater, wondering what happened out at sea to make the other one unwearable. 

 “Evening, Dave,” one of his mates calls, waving in their direction once the boat is secured to the dock. “We’ve got two big ones for ya.” 

 David praises him, watching as they open up a small hatch in the floor of the boat and reveal two massive fish. Emma’s never seen anything like it, the tunas taking up the entire space below the main deck. They must be almost twice as long as she is tall. “Think we’ve got a good thousand pounds here,” the other man calls as he wraps a rope around one of the tails. “Hope we can lift it.” 

 Killian trips and stumbles when he sees her, the blush on his cheeks spreading to his ears and down his neck and reminding her of how he looks when he’s about to finish inside her. The thought makes her blush as well as she grins down at him, giving him a small wave. He’s been quiet and shy for as long as she’s known him, but he’s also professional, and his silence and lack of greeting is almost concerning. 

 He climbs off the boat, hoisting himself easily onto the dock as the muscles under his sweater ripple with the effort. Clearing his throat, he finally makes eye contact with her, smiling awkwardly as his blush deepens. “Evening, Miss Swan,” he says sweetly, reminding her of when they met months ago. She’s not sure she likes it. 

 “Hi, Killian,” she responds with a smirk, making his blush deepen and heating him to an uncomfortable temperature in his dampened sweater. The first fish they caught was barely above the length requirement and relatively easy to hoist onto the deck, but the second has to be one of the largest they’ve ever gotten, and it put up one hell of a fight. 

 “You two know each other?” David asks, glancing between him and Emma, and it strikes Killian that she isn’t here waiting for him like he thought. She’s standing by the harbormaster, relatively close to his wife and child, and things start to fall into place in his mind. 

 They’ve talked about her parents briefly, about how they were young when they had her and made the decision to give her up at the persuasion of both of their parents. She told him about how they had a son a few years later and raised him. She just never told him that her father is the bloody harbormaster. 

 “Yeah,” she answers finally, giving David Nolan a smile that Killian recognizes. It’s the same one that David gives him when he catches a big fish; friendly and necessary but not entirely genuine. She doesn’t expand upon how they met, or how they know each other, or the nature of their relationship, and the harbormaster looks at Killian suspiciously as the machinery lifts his second fish onto the dock. 

 David evaluates each fish and offers him a hefty price for the both of them. The second one, the one that gave them such trouble, is over a thousand pounds, just like Will had guessed, so they make out very well after just one days work. Normally, their undeniable success would be enough to erase any negative thought floating around in Killian’s head, but all he can focus on is the fact that he’s pretty sure he’s standing beside the father of the woman he’s sleeping with.

 He tries to be an adult about it, ignoring the awkward air that has settled between them as David’s family watches on happily, but when Emma asks, “are you ready to go, Killian?” everyone’s eyes dart up immediately. 

 Thankfully, the check had already been cut and handed to Killian, because he’s almost certain that he wouldn’t have gotten his hands on it if Emma’s question had come any sooner. He watches as David’s eyes grow twice their normal size, his wife’s mouth falling agape as she turns to stare at Emma in complete shock. 

 “No,” David says immediately, shaking his head in denial and turning to face his daughter. “Absolutely not.” 

 “Excuse me?” Emma asks, raising both brows in challenge and taking a step away from her mother and towards Killian. She sees his eyes widening and darting between the three of them nervously as the exchange becomes more and more tense. 

 The man, only slightly older than Killian, clears his throat and looks at his daughter again before saying, “please tell me you're not dating him.” 

 “How dare you,” she accuses immediately, stepping back once more until she stands beside Killian, his warmth radiating off of him and comforting her just slightly in the wake of her anger. She doesn’t even know why he would say something like that, what would make him feel the need to say that, but she’s quick to become defensive. She knows Killian is a good person, and she feels immediately as if this man has no right to dictate who she dates. 

 “Honey,” Mary Margaret starts, stepping closer to her and placing her hand on her elbow just as Emma pulls away. She looks in Killian’s direction awkwardly and tensely before trying again. “It’s just… he’s a bit older...” 

 “I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” she says angrily, and notices David stiffening beside his wife. 

 “Emma, please. He just catches fish for half a year. You’re too young to be thinking about settling down with someone who doesn’t have a stable career. Not to mention, he’s almost the same age as me and your mother.” 

 She senses him becoming rigid beside her, his shoulders rising slightly and his jaw clenching in tense discomfort at the accusation. They’ve had this conversation briefly several times, sometimes jokingly and sometimes out of his own insecurities. He’s always seen himself as too old for her-- too old, too common, not good enough-- and the confirmation from her father surely hurts him. 

 Of course, they’ve never talked much about who her parents are. They’ve had their share of conversations about her past and why she’s here, so he knows plenty about the things that she’s been through, but she never felt the need to tell him who they are. She never even put two and two together that he may know her father until this morning. And now she’s hurt him by keeping this from him. 

 With shock and anger, she answers too loudly. “Well, it’s not my fault you guys had me at 17, it is? And are you really judging him for his job? He works hard every day!”

 “Emma,” Killian tries softly, placing his hand on her elbow, but she pulls away in the same way that she had with her mother. 

 “No! They have no right to judge you for what you do for a living. Or us for our age difference. This is completely ridiculous.”

 “It’s alright, love,” he says, resigning to the fact that he’s likely going to lose her. Her parents are right; his job is seasonal and not always as lucrative as he would like, and he’s closer in age to her parents than he is to her. It was bound to end eventually, he tells himself sadly, as she deserves so much more than he’s able to give her. “I’ll go.” 

 “You’re not going anywhere unless you're bringing me with you,” she gripes angrily, grabbing his hand in her own and yanking him away from where her parents are standing. He lets her pull him along, looking back nervously at the harbormaster and his wife as they gape at the two of them. 

 ~~~~

 “How dare they,” she grumbles, slamming his front door harder than he thinks she means to. “I mean, they barely know me, never mind you.” 

 “Emma,” he tries, but she refuses to let him get a word in edgewise as she continues her venting. 

 “It would be one thing if they had actually raised me. If they instilled in me these values that they seem to think puts them on a pedestal. But they gave me away.”

 He guides her gently through his small cottage, the weight of his hand on the small of her back serving as a reminder that he’s here for her. 

 “Emma,” he repeats once they’re sitting and she’s able to hear him. “You know I understand.”

 She does know this. He told her one night, while their legs were entwined and their arms were around one another, about the way his father abandoned him and his brother when he was just a boy. “I know,” she confirms softly. 

 “And you also know that I hate the idea of getting in between you and your family. They’re the reason you’re here in the first place, love.”

 She stares at him for a moment, taking in the meaning of his words and angering when she realizes that he thinks he’s the problem here. 

 “Stop,” she insists suddenly. “If you’re making me consider them my family, then I’m going to consider you my family, too.”

 “Love--”

 “I’ve known you the same amount of time as I have them. And you’ve never once judged me, or let me down, or made me feel… like I’m doing something wrong.”

 His face drops slightly in response to her words as he saddens. It kills him to know that she’s been made to feel this way. “I appreciate hearing that, love. But at the same time… they have a point. I’m closer in age to your parents than I am to you.”

 “Please,” she says, rolling her eyes and pushing his shoulders until he’s lying down and she’s lying across his chest. “You should hear about some of the other guys I’ve dated. You being old is nothing.”

 He pinches her hip in response to her jest and says, “I dare not hear about them, or else I may leave here and start a fight with each of them.”

 “You’re too old to fight.”

 “Aye, that’s right.”

 They lie in comfortable silence, Killian’s tired arms running up and down along her spine until her breathing evens out. It’s either an indication that she’s feeling less angry, or that she’s fallen asleep, but he knows it to be the former when she speaks up. 

 “Do you know that you smell really bad? Like… I mean really bad.”

 “Thank you, darling.”

 “You’re welcome,” she says, and he can hear the sly smile in her voice without needing to see her perfect face. “You know, I could probably help you with that.”

 “Is that so?” he asks in falsified surprise. 

 “Yes,” she nods. “A nice hot shower is just what the doctor ordered.”

 “Oh, are we playing doctor now, Swan?” 

 “Ugh, no, Jones. It isn’t 1950 anymore, old man. Kids don’t play doctor. Now come with me if you want me to soap you up.”

 She yanks him from the couch, guiding him through his small space until they reach the shower. It’s a tight fit, squeezing the both of them inside, but she somehow manages to get on her knees before him and quell his anxieties that he’s not good enough for her. Her mouth is useful when it’s using words to comfort him, and it’s just as useful when she’s using it to worship him until he can finish in the back of her throat. 

 As she stands slowly and salaciously, the warm water trickles down her face and into her hair, dampening the flawless length of her body as she reaches behind him for the body wash. “Does this mean you aren’t going to leave me?” she asks softly as she squeezes some soap into her palm. He can barely stand straight, leaning against the wall of the shower as she begins to lather the soap over the coarse hair on his chest. 

 His thoughts finally return to him and he says, “please tell me you didn’t just give me the best blowjob of my life as a means to convince me.” 

 She snorts, wrapping her arms around his waist and running her hands up and down his back. He knows she’s trying to follow through on her promise to soap him up, but she grabs onto his rear and he isn’t sure if she’s cleansing him correctly. “No,” she responds, pressing her lips to his neck and licking along his racing pulse. “But... did it help persuade you?” 

 He hums, not trusting his own voice and nodding. “It did,” he breathes, then he rights himself and remembers how imperative it is that he get his point across. “Emma, I don't want to leave you. I don’t think I’ll ever be happy if you aren’t by my side. I just… I only want to do what’s best for you.” 

 “You are what’s best for me,” she says, her voice barely audible over the sound of the running water. She finally looks up, releasing her lips and tongue from his skin and meeting his eyes with hers. “I never… I mean, I didn't grow up with a family. I know how to get by without my parents. But it’s-- It’s different with you. Ingrid always said that I need to fight for my happiness. I finally understand what she meant now that I’ve met you. I can’t lose you.”

 Her words are so soft, so small, that he could have missed them. If he wasn’t watching the way her lips moved when she spoke, he would have. The way that she’s able to perfectly express how she’s feeling, while also giving words to the way that he feels about her, makes his heart practically jump out of his chest. 

 “Love,” he breathes, his voice gruff and barely audible as he cups her cheek with his palm. “I can’t lose you either.” 

 “You just mean a lot to me,” she whispers. 

 “Aye. You mean more to me than I could put into words.” 

 “Then please don’t leave me,” she mouths. He knows she had the intention to say the words aloud, but it’s as if she isn’t able to. 

 He’s unable to form the words that he so desperately wants to, either, so he leans in close to her and captures her lips between his own, molding their mouths together as if they were made for each other. And she kisses him back in a way that conveys how she feels about him. 

 Her fingers slide through his chest hair, scratching along his skin as they glide up towards his neck. She grips the back of his hair with her fingers, grounding herself through the emotion of the entire evening. It was hard enough on her when she learned her parents disapproved of her lover. Harder still when she found out he was considering leaving her for what he assumed was her own good. Now, she can’t get enough of the soothing comfort that comes from being with him. 

 He reaches behind himself, easily shutting off the flow of the water so that the silence of the room consumes them. The only sounds between them are the weakened, aged fan and the sounds of their heavy breathing. 

 “I’m— I—.” She starts speaking, but cuts herself off in favor of kissing him again. 

 “Aye,” he agrees, and although he doesn’t know what she was going to say exactly, he has a hunch and hopes to any god who may be listening that he’s right.  

 “Take me to bed,” she asks against his mouth. “I need you.” 

 He doesn’t waste a moment; when Emma Swan tells him to take her to bed, he knows he’d better listen. Pushing the curtain aside, he holds it open for her and allows her to step out of the shower, holding onto her elbow in hopes that he’s offering her some semblance of support. It’s entirely unnecessary, though; Emma Swan is the strongest person he’s ever met. She gives him a soft smile in thanks, grabbing his towel off of the hook and using it to dry herself quickly before turning it towards him and tossing it into his hair. She scrubs the towel through the gray and black locks playfully, giggling when she lifts it over his eyes and smiling at him so brightly that he finds it impossible not to grin back. “Thank you,” he says softly, and she leans forward, holding the towel around his head and using it like a hood to pull him into a kiss. 

 What starts as chaste and gentle turns heated and passionate in second, her tongue sliding against his and her hands lighting a trail of fire as they scratch down his back. He picks her up easily, her slender frame much less heavy than the monsters he battled earlier, and carries her bridal style over the threshold of the bathroom and towards the bed they’ve been sharing. The bed in which he hopes to never sleep alone again. 

 He presses her down into the mattress, making her groan into his mouth and wrap her ankles around his hips. She’s desperate to pull him closer to her, to have him inside her until she’s seeing stars behind her eyelids. He never fails to bring her ecstasy, each time they’re together fighting for the title of ‘the best time’. When his fingers find her sensitive and soaked for him, he smirks against her lips and kisses her harder. When he slides into her, making her gasp with the welcome ache as he stretches her, they press their foreheads together and breathe each other in. He rocks into her slowly and gently, exactly as she needs him. He reads her effortlessly and flawlessly, stroking her above where their bodies join until she’s powerless to stop the desperate noises from filling the room. 

 She squeezes her entire body around him as they finish together, and she cries out his name in loving praise as he spills himself into her. He can’t get enough of her, the high of being with her is like a drug from which he will never be fully sated, and he will never stop trying to bring her pleasure and joy and contentment for as long as she allows him to stay by her side. 

 The hum that leaves her throat as they come down together relays exactly how he feels as well. They’re sated for now as they embrace each other, although he knows that his longing for her is only slightly extinguished, only to be fueled again with just the slightest encouragement from her. 

 “That was nice,” she breathes nonchalantly, making him smile softly through hooded eyes as he rolls onto his side to look at her longingly. 

 “That’s one word for it, I suppose,” he concedes, running his hand up and down along the length of her waist. Her eyes flutter shut at the tickling sensation and she leans close to him to press a soft kiss to his lips. 

 “Very excellent? As if I was being fucked by a savant? Is that better?” 

 “No,” he whispers, “I think you’re just making fun of my age again with that one.” 

 With a soft grin, she says, “you’re pretty slick for an old guy.” 

 “Hush.” 

 She snuggles into his chest, resting her head under his chin and kissing against his collarbone before uttering, “a quick nap, and then you’re taking me to dinner.” 

 “Your heart’s desire, Swan. I promise that’s all I want you to have.” 

 ~~~~

 There’s an old wives tale, apparently, that tuna are more active during a storm. At least, that’s what Killian told Emma when he left that morning with the sky bright red. She was expecting him to heed the weather advisory and the warnings given by the coast guard that it isn’t safe for small crafts to be out during the oncoming storm, but of course, he’s as stubborn as she is and dedicated to his career and to his crew. They all want to go out and catch fish, so that’s what they do. 

 It’s not like she doesn’t trust his abilities as the captain, because of course she does. And it’s not like she’s naive enough to think that he’s never been out in bad weather before. But they’d just had a heart to heart a few nights ago, and if she loses him to a storm, she’s certain that she’ll lose what’s left of her sanity as well. 

 The fact is, she loves him. She knows she does, and she knows that she has since the moment she met him. She doesn’t care that he’s older than her, or that he works seasonally, or that he considers himself to be not good enough for her. What matters is that he’s the kindest person she’s ever met. He’s the most generous man who’s ever been in her life. She’s never met someone so gentle and caring and utterly perfect, and she feels physically sick at the thought of losing what she has with him. 

 He makes her want to be a better person. He makes her strive for patience and understanding, rather than impulsivity. He makes her rethink her tendency to shut people out before they can hurt her. She’s better for having met him, and she fears what she could become if she loses him to a crashing wave or a sinking ship. 

 After he leaves, after she watches as he sets off into the open ocean, she heads to Granny’s, the wind already strong enough to push her in that direction. She has a room rented out, but she hasn’t been in it in days in favor of staying with Killian, locking themselves away from the world and letting themselves be consumed with one another. She dreads the idea of going to her empty room, the one that isn’t hers and Killian’s, but she’s in need of a good facemask after neglecting her routine for days on end, and she could use a change of clothes that don’t belong to him.

 After showering and, admittedly, taking an unexpected nap, she wakes ready for an order of grilled cheese and onion rings. The bell above the door chimes when she opens it, and Granny gives her a quick yet welcoming smile. “Afternoon,” she calls from behind the counter. “Want a seat with your folks?”

 Emma groans internally as she turns and sees her parents and brother sitting in a booth, each of them giving her a kind smile. She returns it, although hers is much tighter than theirs seem to be, and says, “sure,” in a less-than-convincing tone. 

 “Hi, honey,” Mary Margaret says when Emma approaches them reluctantly, and she tries (and probably fails) to hide her cringe. 

 “Hey.” 

 David slides over towards the wall, offering her the only available seat beside him. “Been a few days, huh? How’s it going?” 

 “Fine,” she shrugs. “I’ve been staying with Killian.” 

 She watches as her parents stiffen, her brother obviously indifferent to her dating life. “That’s… nice,” Mary Margaret forces out, her discomfort so plainly written across her face that Emma has to stop herself from rolling her eyes. She didn’t come here to start anything, and she didn’t sit with them because she wanted to argue, but it’s becoming more and more difficult. 

 “Yes, it is nice. Killian is nice. And polite, and compassionate, and perfect in every way. So yes, it’s been a very pleasant few days.” 

 “I’m glad you’ve… I'm glad that you’re happy,” Mary Margaret chokes out. 

 “I am.” 

 They’re silent. Emma’s lunch is delivered to the table and they eat quietly, the only sounds between the four of them the bustle of the diner and the appreciative hum that David gives with each bite of soup. The wind whips outside, rattling the windows violently and blowing over a table on Granny’s patio. Many of the patrons stand, David and Leo included, and hurry outside to right the fallen piece of furniture, and Emma begins to gnaw at the short nail on her left thumb. 

 “It’s bad out there,” she remarks obviously, her leg bouncing up and down in quick, anxious succession. “I hope--” 

 She notes the way Mary Margaret looks out the window with wide eyes, realization setting in as the source of her daughter’s fear becomes obvious. “Emma, is he out there? In this weather?” 

 Emma looks at her mother and, for the first time since they’ve met, finds comfort in her eyes rather than a reason for distrust. “Yes,” she chokes out in a whisper, sucking her lips between her teeth. “He said he’d be fine, but…” 

 Mary Margaret nods in understanding. “It’s kind of bad out there.” Emma nods, too. “I can see why you’re so worried.” 

 “His boat is pretty small,” she explains, her voice shaking. “But he said it’s the best time to catch the fish.” 

 “That’s what your father always says, too,” Mary Margaret responds, reaching across the table and giving Emma’s hand a squeeze. For the first time since she’s met her mother, she doesn't pull away. “I’m sure he’ll be alright. He’s a knowledgeable captain.” 

 “He has been doing this a while,” Emma reasons, mostly with herself. 

 Mary Margaret sighs, giving Emma’s hand one final squeeze before letting go and leaning forward towards her daughter. “Sweetheart,” she starts, pursing her lips together thoughtfully. “I-- I’d like to apologize for the way your father and I reacted the other night. It wasn’t fair of us to judge your… relationship.” 

 Emma looks up into the eyes of the woman who gave birth to her, the woman who gave her away, and sees truth behind them. “It wasn’t,” she agrees. 

 “I can tell now that you truly care for him.” 

 “I do,” she nods. “Very much.” 

 “It’s just that,” she starts slowly, noticing her husband and son reentering the diner. “Well, you’re our little girl. It was surprising to find out that you’ve been seeing someone, never mind someone so much older than you. We just want what’s best for you.” 

 David sits beside Emma again and Leo takes his seat next to his mother, both of them looking as though they realize that they’ve walked into a pretty serious conversation. Emma thinks about holding back with their arrival, especially considering the presence of her brother, but she simply can’t. 

 “No offense or anything, but… I'm not your little girl. I never was. I never got the chance to be. And Killian’s age means nothing to me because he’s the best person I’ve ever known. No one else I’ve dated has ever treated me nearly as well as he has; no one listens to me or cares for me or loves me the way he does. And as terrifying as it is, because my dating history has seriously sucked, I know he loves me without even hearing him say it. And I… I love him too. And I’m really going insane right now not knowing if he’s alright out there, and you judging me for being with him isn’t helping how crazy I feel.” 

 The table is silent for an uncomfortable amount of time, and Emma chooses to go back to eating her onion rings and nervously bouncing her feet against the floor. Mary Margaret gulps, David’s wide eyes look between Emma and his wife, and Leo awkwardly eats his fries in the same way that Emma does. It’s the most painful silence she thinks she’s ever sat through. 

 “I’m sorry,” David finally says softly, turning his entire body so that he can face Emma. “It startled and surprised us when we found out, but you’re right. It isn’t fair for us to judge you. We’re clinging to the hope that you’d be, well, our little girl. But it’s time we realize that isn’t realistic and celebrate the time that we do get to spend with you. No matter who you choose to spend your time with.” 

 “Thanks,” she mumbles. She appreciates the sentiment, truly, but she gets the feeling there’s a but coming. 

 “I just hope that he feels as strongly for you as you clearly do for him.” 

 She tries her hardest to ensure that the look she gives him from the corner of her eye is not a glare, and she nods. “He does.” 

 “Alright, then,” David says casually, folding up his napkin and placing it on his plate before grabbing for his wallet. “Let's head to the docks and check the radar, then, shall we?” 

 Her eyes widen with anticipation and relief as she asks, “can you do that?” 

 “I’m the harbormaster. I can do whatever I want,” he says with a smirk and a wink shot in her direction. She follows him out of the booth with more enthusiasm than she’s felt all day, practically skipping out of the diner behind her father. 

 ~~~~

 “I can hear all of the long-range radio communications on here,” he explains once they arrive at his makeshift office. He pulls out his chair for her and lets her sit while he adjusts the receiver. “You’ll just have to listen out for him. So far, no distress signals or anything, though.” 

 “Good,” she agrees. She jumps in excitement when she hears a message coming through, and even though it isn’t from Killian, she knows he’s out there with this other captain. 

 She listens in silence for a while, David leaning against the table beside her and Mary Margaret and Leo standing off to the side and talking quietly. She hears many messages come in, many captains talking back and forth about the storm and the choppy waters and the dangerous conditions. A few of them have caught some fish, so she supposes it was worth it to them, but she hasn’t heard anything from Killian. 

 Eventually, after what feels like far too much time has passed, she hears someone ask for him. Emma desperately wishes there was a transmitter that would allow her to speak to him, but all she can do now is sit by and listen. 

 “Jolly, you still on?” the man asks, and David translates to let Emma know that they're wondering if Killian is still reeling in a tuna. 

 There isn’t a response, though. David explains that each captain should let the others in the fleet know when they’ve caught something, and Killian’s lack of response probably means that he and his crew are still wrestling with the giant beast. At least, that’s what she tells herself. 

 “Jolly Roger, come in. You guys still on?” 

 “Guess that means yes,” another captain responds after a moment. “‘Less he went overboard.”

 Emma pales, putting her hand over her mouth and biting her lip until David places his hand on her shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. “He’s joking,” he tells her. “They’re all like that. A bunch of ball-busters.” 

 She nods and gulps, listening on as the fleet’s captains joke with each other as if there isn’t a nor'easter threatening to capsize each and every one of them. As if it isn’t possible that it’s already taken the man she loves away from her. She hears one of them saying that they’re on their way back to the docks, having caught a fish big enough to justify ending their trip, and she silently begs anyone who might be listening that Killian is finishing up catching something big and will do the same. 

 Eventually, after far too long, someone speaks up and says, “I’m going in, too. Anyone hear from Jones?” 

 “No,” another answers. “He was fighting something big; hopefully they catch it soon. Gettin’ bad out here.” 

 Emma knows she can’t wait at the docks for him forever. It’s unrealistic, and she’s going to freeze to death. It’s nearly winter, and the mixture of snow and rain and heavy wind that assaults her in the scarcely covered dock is starting to soak down to her bones. But she can’t leave. She still hasn’t heard Killian’s voice over the radio-- it’s been pretty silent for the last hour-- and she can’t get herself to leave before she knows that he’s alright. 

 Mary Margaret apologizes as she leaves, bringing Leo with her to get warm. She says she’ll have a mug of cocoa waiting for Emma at Granny’s, but she isn’t sure when she’ll make it over there. Despite how cold and wet she is, she can’t leave here until he gets back. She can’t even think of the alternative to him coming back. 

 David waits with her for another hour. They’re fairly quiet, hardly any words exchanged between the two of them, but after some time passes, he starts to open up to her in a way she never expected. He tells her how grateful he is that she found them. He tells her how impossible it was for him and Mary Margaret to give her up, and that both of their parents essentially forced their hands due to their young age. He tells her how painful it was, finding out about Mary Margaret’s unplanned pregnancy and being faced with the reality that they could keep this child and they couldn’t keep her. He tells her how badly he wanted to try to find her, considering breaking the terms of the closed adoption that fell through for years. He had no idea that the family who adopted her initially had sent her back because once they agreed to place her for adoption, they gave up their right to know anything about her. 

 Tears spring into his eyes when he talks of wanting to give her her best chance. When he admits to her that giving her away was a mistake-- “the biggest I’ve ever made.” 

 When she was young, this is what she’d hoped for. She dreamt of her tortured parents, broken because of their decision to give her away. She’d hoped that they realized their mistake and regretted it every day. But now, seeing the way that the decision they made 25 years ago hurts her father, she wishes she could take his pain away. They didn’t have much of a choice at 17, what with having no income and no support from their families. They thought they were doing what was best for her; they can’t help that it didn’t work out that way. 

 “It’s alright, dad,” she finally says after some silence passes between them. She notes the way he looks up at her hopefully, his eyes still glassed over, and she realizes why. She’s never called him that before, never thought she ever would. But in this moment, with the support and honesty and love he’s shown her, she can’t think of him as anyone other than her father. Her dad. 

 She sniffles as she steps towards him, her eyes beginning to match his own, and she embraces him. It feels exactly how she’d hoped hugging her father would feel. It feels true, and loving, and she’s at peace here with him. 

 “I love you,” he says into her hair, his hand cupping the back of his head. “I always have, since the moment I found out about you. I’m so sorry I couldn’t give you the life you deserved.” 

 She doesn’t even think before she says, “I love you, too.” 

 A boat comes in and David buys their fish. When asked about the Jolly Roger, the captain shrugs and says he hasn’t heard from Killian since he got a tuna on his line, but that was hours ago. “Sometimes it takes a whole day to get them on the deck,” David tells her after the captain leaves. “With the weather, I'm sure they’re being challenged out there. But we would’ve heard a distress call if anything was wrong.” 

 She tells herself that he’s right, and that he would know, and sits back down at the table. She can’t torture herself standing by the entrance of the warehouse, getting soaked and becoming even more frozen as she stares out at the horizon. She distracts herself with her phone, trying to keep busy as she waits, wishing he would call or text her to let her know that he’s alright. 

 It’s nearly dark when David calls her over, and when she looks up, she sees a small vessel backing up towards the dock, Will and Robin tossing some rope around the post to keep the boat from floating out to sea. She stands with such force and hope that she sends the chair crashing to the ground, but she hardly notices as she starts running towards the stairs. It’s still windy and cold, but the snow and rain has slowed, making it just a bit safer as she sprints down the wooden stairs and across the dock where he’s landed. 

 “Killian!” she calls as she gets closer, and she sees him poking his head out from the small cabin at the sound of her voice, shutting off the engine and hurrying towards the edge of the deck. She doesn’t let him disembark, choosing instead to jump onto the deck and nearly shoving Will to the ground as she fights her way towards him, crashing into his sturdy arms. 

 “Bloody hell,” he whispers into her hair as he holds her close, his arms wrapping tightly around her and warming her in a way that nothing else possibly could. His sweater is damp, and she’s soaked to the bone, but neither of them care. She can finally breathe again with her nose against his neck and her arms around his waist, squeezing him close to her. 

 “Are you okay?” she finally asks against his skin. She pulls away so that she can look at him, holding his head in her hands and bringing his lips to hers in a relieved kiss. “Fuck,” she breathes when she pulls away. “I thought… I was so worried about you.” 

 “I’m sorry--” he says against her mouth when she kisses him again. He chuckles softly and tries again, “I’m sorry, my love. I didn’t mean to worry you.” His hand leaves her hip and brushes her wet hair out of her face, his fingers returning to trace gently over her cheek.

 “We listened to the radio, but we never heard from you. I thought something was wrong, or--” she cuts herself off, biting her bottom lip and staring into his eyes, as deep and blue as the ocean. 

 “The radio went out with some lightning. If I’d known you were listening… bloody hell. I’m so sorry, Emma.” 

 She tries to kiss him again, their lips touching for just a single, unsatisfying second before they're interrupted by Will. “Oi, you’re standing right over the fish, mate. You lot can canoodle after we get the check, aye?”

 They caught three giant fish, the maximum they’re allowed to have on their boat at one time. She supposes he was right about a storm being the best time to go fishing, but she doesn’t think she’d survive if he went out in this weather again. She wonders in the back of her mind if the hefty paycheck David gives them for their catch is influenced by her in any way, but she tries not to dwell on it. Afterall, it could be worse. At least her father somewhat approves of him now, or at the very least, tolerates the fact that they're together. 

 When they're done, he hands the keys to his mates and squeezes her hand. “I promise I’m not going out there in this weather again, love; not if it’s going to worry you. It isn’t worth putting you through that again.” 

 “Good man,” David says softly, nodding to himself as he packs up his supplies. “Ems, I’ll meet you at Granny’s? We should probably dry off.” 

 “Sure,” she responds with a nod and a smile. “Tell-- tell mom I’ll be there soon.” 

 David blushes and nods back at her, giving her a shy smile. “Will do, kiddo.” 

 They walk away hand in hand, both of them damp and freezing and in desperate need of the embrace of the other. 

 “‘Mom’?” he asks her when they're out of earshot, trekking towards the small cottage that’s been in his family for generations. She can hear the smile in his voice over the whipping winds, and can’t help but to smile as well. 

 “I had a very interesting day,” she explains casually, looking up at him and smiling before looking back down, careful as she navigates over the bumpy stone path that leads to his front door. It’s a very short walk; his house beside the lighthouse is prime real estate in the small fishing town. “Little heart to heart with my parents.” 

 “That’s wonderful, love,” he encourages, squeezing her hand as he fiddles with the lock with his other. When they finally get inside, out of the storm and into the warmth of his small living room, he says, “I’m happy for you.” 

 She hums and smiles softly, turning to him and wrapping her fingers around the neck of his rain and ocean soaked sweater. “You should start a fire,” she suggests in a whisper. “And get out of these clothes.” 

 “Aye, same could be said for you, angel. How long were you by the docks waiting?” he asks, running the tip of his finger along her temple and down her cheek. 

 “I don't know, it felt like hours.” 

 “I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t realize you were waiting. I would've tried calling, but there was spotty reception.” 

 “It’s alright,” she whispers back, pushing her forehead against his and cupping the back of his head with her hands. “I’m just glad you're alright.” 

 “Aye.” 

 “And there's… there’s something I have to tell you.” 

 “What’s that?” 

 It doesn't matter that they're both nearly dripping on the floor of his entryway, or that her hair resembles a birds nest, or that he smells like fish. None of the imperfections matter because when they're together, they disappear. Everything that could make their moment together feel amiss fades into the background when she smiles and whispers, “I love you.” 

 His heart stops beating. He wonders if he’s old enough to have a heart attack. It doesn't matter, because Emma admitting her love for him will surely keep him alive if he is. He chokes slightly, swallowing and taking a deep breath and then laughing and shaking his head in disbelief. Emma Swan loves him. 

 She giggles, too, her nose brushing against his as she asks, “are you in there?” and taps her fingers on his temple. 

 “Aye, I’m just… bloody hell. I love you.” 

 “You do?” she asks happily, her smile nearly blinding. 

 “Yes,” he responds. “Unequivocally. More than I ever thought it was possible to love a person. My life was so mundane and futile until you came into it, but Emma, you’ve given me so much hope. You’ve made my life… worth it.” 

 She breathes out a laugh and sniffles, scratching her fingers along his scalp and shaking her head. “You old sap,” she chastises playfully, making him laugh too. “I couldn’t agree more.”

 Their kiss is perfect. They don’t need the heat of the fire to warm them up because the energy between them is enough. He doesn’t feel the need to strip off his clothes because of how soaked through they are; moreso because of how badly he needs to touch her. All he can think about is her body on his and the cursed amount of layers he’s adorning. He feels slightly less suffocated when she strips him of his thick sweater, but only slightly. 

 She moans as she pulls at his trousers, popping open the button and sliding the zip as far down as it’ll go. Reaching inside, she palms at the contours of his hardened length over his underwear. She giggles, the sound ringing through his ears joyously, when she tucks her fingers under his long underwear and is met with even more fabric. “You really layered up, huh, Captain?”

 He nearly chokes at her use of his title, never liking it falling from anyone else’s lips as much as he does hers, and nods. “A winter storm requires prep-- preparation,” he stutters. 

 His eyes grow about twice their size and his breathing completely stops as she sinks to her knees before him, making her smirk as she looks up at him through her lashes in a way that she knows drives him mad. She’s practically buzzing as she looks up at his bare chest, the veins in his arms popping out tantalizingly as she runs her nose along the soft fabric of his long underwear.  

 The sounds he makes are unintelligible, and she’s found that that is exactly what she seeks when she gets on her knees before him: to have him in such ecstasy that he can hardly make sense of his words. She bites at the fabric so that she can pull it down, his cock springing free so that she can lightly scratch her fingers through the hair at the base. She loves the way he’s peppered with white all over, and she knows he likes her appreciation for it. The fact is, she can’t get enough of his perfectly sculpted body, the spatterings of silver and black making her heart skip a beat each time she thinks about him. 

 She can tell when she’s about to take it too far based on the way he struggles to keep his hips still, so she slows her movements and releases him with a pop, licking her lips as she looks up at him seductively. 

 “Do you want me?” she asks in a low, growling whisper that’s only just audible over the sounds of the wind picking up just outside the door. 

 “If I ever don't immediately say yes to that question, please smother me with a pillow. It means my age has caught  up to me.” 

 “Impossible,” she chastises, standing slowly and removing her own sweater. “You may be old, but I know you’re young at heart.” 

 He shakes his head at her, moving quickly to scoop her into his arms until her ankles are locked around his waist. “What did we say about respecting your elders?” he growls into her ear, biting at the lobe as he walks them towards the bed. 

 With a hum, she asks, “are you going to punish me, Captain?” and he tosses her gracefully onto the mattress in response. 

 “Perhaps I'll simply make you beg.” 

 “Oh, I'm not above begging. I happen to know you’re quite the catch, so it'll be worth it.” 

 “Are you making fishing jokes while I’m trying to seduce you?” 

 The smirk she gives him is telling as he pulls her leggings over her hips and bites into her flesh, making her jump slightly. “Oh! I thought I was supposed to nibble on your rod?” 

 “Emma,” he laughs breathlessly. 

 She breathes out a laugh as well as he drags his tongue along her folds, not quite touching her where she needs him. “You really know how to lure me in, what can I say.” He bites the inside of her thigh silently, making her laugh aloud and then stutter as his tongue finds her clit. He keeps it there only momentarily, moving away in favor of peppering soft kisses around her thighs and over her hips. “Stop teasing,” she whines with her eyes squeezed shut, and he can see her smile growing before she says, “or should I say… baiting.”

 He growls playfully as he hurries up the length of her body, decidedly punishing her by refusing to put his mouth on her center, although he doesn't think she minds as his lips collide with hers and his fingers plunge into her entrance. “You’re quite funny,” he says against her mouth as he expertly curls his fingers up against the sensitive spot inside her.

 “Tha-- thank you,” she says, struggling to get the words out around her gasps and moans. “W-will you-- mmm, Killian.”

 “Yes, my love?” he whispers as he sucks a bruise into her neck. 

 “Fuck me.”

 He hums thoughtfully, slowing his fingers and pulling away from her so that he can purse his lips in pensivity. “No, I don’t think I will,” he tells her, his tone serious but the sparkle in his eyes anything but. 

 “Killian,” she whines, giving him a pout and gasping as he flicks his fingers over her clit. 

 She’s about to go mad, both with need and with absolute irritation at him, before he places his lips at the shell of her ear, lining his hardened cock up to her entrance, and whispers, “I’d much rather make love to you,” as he thrusts inside. 

 Emma doesn’t even have time, never mind the wherewithal, to berate him for his jest. She clings her fingertips into the backs of his strong shoulders, weathered by the sun and battered with the exhaustion of his livelihood. Their mouths fuse together tightly, neither of them willing to be any further from the other than they absolutely have to. 

 She whimpers against his lips as he strokes his fingers against her expertly, touching her exactly as she needs him to. He pulls slightly from her kiss, his mouth hovering over hers, and she knows he’s going to ask if she’s alright without him needing to. 

 Rather than wait for the question, she says, “I love you,” into the barely open space between them. 

 Killian doubles down on his efforts, driving into her with passion and love, the likes of which she’s never felt before. He breathes his love for her into every inch of her skin, his movements echoing his words until she gives him one last warning whimper and they fall apart in each other’s arms. 

 “I love you,” he whispers against her skin. “You mean everything to me.”

 She gives him a soft smile, running her fingers soothingly into his hair as he collapses against her chest, his own heaving with each breath. “I certainly got more than I bargained for when I came here.”

 “Aye.”

 “Before I came,” she whispers, pausing to collect her thoughts. “Before I met you, it was like I was sinking. Like I could barely stay above water and I was one big wave away from capsizing.”

 He smirks against her skin, chuffed at her nautical references despite his teasing earlier, and says, “I believe I know what you mean, angel.”

 “And then I met you, and it was like I jumped overboard.” Turning his head so that he can look up at her, he raises a brow. “I was clinging to this dinky little boat that was sinking, you know? I was clinging to this idea of how my life couldn’t have gone. But I met you and you showed me that it’s okay when things don’t go the way we hope they will. You helped me see that it’s okay to let go, because…” she shrugs, busying her fingers in his hair. “Well, I guess because there was a life raft waiting for me. You.”

 With a deep blush, he shakes his head in disbelief of the woman before him, pressing a kiss to her chest before pressing up onto his elbows and finding her lips with his. “I love you,” he whispers. “You’ve changed my life for the better, you know. I was quite the half-drunken recluse before you came to town.” 

 “I know,” she whispers with a satisfied smile. “We make quite the pair.” 

 “That we do.”

 They lie in comfortable silence for a few more moments, Killian’s arms wrapped around Emma and his head on her chest as her fingers continue their ministrations through his hair. Eventually and reluctantly, they remember that they’re meant to meet her parents at Granny’s for dinner, and peel themselves off of one another just long enough to make it to the shower. They clean each other, after dirtying themselves once more under the water, and resign themselves to the difficulty they have keeping their hands off of one another. 

 Once at dinner, they tame themselves as much as they can, but neither of them miss the narrow-eyed looks being shot their way by David and Mary Margaret. Killian can’t help himself, though. She makes him feel alive; like a teenager in love for the first time. At the end of the night, after his confession that he plans to never sail through a storm again if it will ease his love’s worries, David shakes his hand and claps his shoulder wordlessly. 

 Three months later, after they’ve moved the rest of Emma’s things into his small cottage, she walks into the kitchen and catches him laughing elatedly with her mother before being pulled in for a tight hug. She wants to ask what they’re so excited about, but stops herself to take in the sight of the two of them finally getting along. It means so much more than her mom liking her boyfriend. 

 Their life together is perfection-- everything they could have hoped for and more-- and he can’t wait to ask her to spend the rest of it by his side. 

~~~~

~~~~

Tagging: @courtorderedcake​ @kmomof4​ @stahlop​ @klynn-stormz​ @laschatzi @emelizabeth88​ @lfh1226-linda​ @kday426​ @elisethewritingbeast @timeless-love-story​ @captain-emmajones​ @gingerpolyglot​ @ebcaver​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @teamhook @superchocovian​ @itsfabianadocarmo​ @tiganasummertree​ @gingerchangeling​ @jrob64​ @onceratheart18​ @xhookswenchx @winterbaby89​ @swampmedusa​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @dancingnancyy​ @love-with-you-i-have-everything​ @shireness-says​ @snowbellewells​​ @hollyethecurious @ouatpost​ @daxx04​ @the-darkdragonfly​ @donteattheappleshook​​ @therooksshiningknight @eeteeaytay​​ @xsajx @itsfridaysomewhere​​ @alexa-fangirl-forever​​ @jonesfandomfanatic​​ @wefoundloveunderthelight @qualitycoffeethings @rapunzelsghosts​​ @spaceconveyor

#cs au #captain swan au #captain swan modern au #Overboard #Cs smut #cs angst #mildly I guess #silver fox Killian #older Killian #cs ff #overboard ff

[wastelandcth]

birthday polaroid - cth

summary: making memories on calum’s 25th birthday. 

author’s notes: happy birthday to calum! i hope he has a wonderful day and i hope you guys enjoy a little moment in time with our favorite guy. thanks to @lowkeyflop​ for sending me an idea that inspired this piece. 

masterlist || request

Everyone around them knew. The small touches and the laughs shared between one another when they thought no one was looking. Everyone knew from the lasting gazes or the way they always found each other in a crowd. Calum knew that he liked her and if he was being honest, he was absolutely terrified to find out if she felt the same. But everyone knew the truth. They were inseparable and it was no secret that there was something more than just friendship. 

When Calum and her first became friends, it was nothing more than hanging out with their friend group and texting every once in a while. Calum couldn't remember when things changed between the two of them. He couldn't remember when his heart started racing every time he thought about her or being near her. He couldn't remember when he started craving her attention. But he wasn't sure if she felt the same way about him. He didn't know if her hands got sweaty and her mouth dry when they hung out. But he really hoped so. 

She was in love with Calum. That much she knew. She was in love with the person she'd seen him become in the years of friendship. She was in love with his smile and his laugh and everything about him. She never had any plans to tell him how she felt, that would've been insane. She knew Calum, she knew that relationships were never for him and knew that he was afraid to ever be vulnerable in front of a person like that again. So no, there was no way she was ever going to tell Calum that she was truly, madly, and deeply in love with him. 

One thing Calum loved about her was how passionate she was about celebrating life and all the joys that came with being a human. When Calum first started hanging out with her alone, he learned very early on that she always tried to make everyone's day better. Whether it was playing Calum's favorite song in the car whenever he was having a bad day or letting Michael borrow her fuzzy sweater when he was cold and had forgotten a jacket on movie night. But Calum found himself more and more in love with her whenever she was just herself when she was with him and she was carefree. He loved listening to her laugh and then talk about something she was loving that day. He loved watching her eye light up whenever her favorite song played and the way she would dance along to the music in the car. 

Usually, on his birthday, Calum made plans to spend it with his friends and close ones. They'd usually go out to brunch and start the day off planning whatever fun activity they had for Cal's big day. Then there was the usual outing to whatever club they'd gotten bottle service at that night. Or there was a party at someone's house which usually ended with too many shots and Calum ending up on social media the next morning replaying the events of the night. But this year, Calum felt like shit. His cold started off as a tickle in the back of his throat, a tickle that wouldn't go away no matter how many times he cleared his throat or how many cups of tea he drank. Eventually, the tickle turned into a sore throat and a runny nose with a cough that forced Calum to make the decision on how his twenty-fifth birthday to be canceled. The day before his birthday, which was usually spent hydrating and what Calum described as the calm before the storm, he sent out the text to cancel any plans in order for him to rest and feel better. 

Calum hadn't expected anyone to show up. He'd sent out a text message to his friends the night before that he was sick with a cold and that any birthday plans would have to be rescheduled. If he was being honest, hiding in bed covered with blankets and sipping tea out of a Chewbacca mug was a perfect way to spend his birthday. He hated the idea of growing older and was not looking forward to waking up hungover from partying. But Calum wasn't expecting his doorbell to ring at two in the afternoon on the day of his birthday. So he'd ignored it at first, hoping that whoever had been at his front door would get the hint and leave him alone. Leave him to be a year older by himself while a cold that left his nose stuffed and his throat sore stuck in bed. It wasn't until he heard the familiar tone of his security system pinging, telling him someone had opened the front door, that Calum sensed something was off. 

"Duke, please tell me your father isn't passed out in the shower or worse," her voice rang out from the living room, making Calum put down the book he had been reading and make his way out of the bedroom. 

"Sweet girl?" Calum asked confused, his dry throat making his voice crack a bit. 

"Calum," she mumbled, a small smile on her face as she turned to look at him. She had that addicting smile that Calum loved so much, the one Calum liked to think she only showed when she was truly happy. She was holding multiple things, something that seemed to comically in excess, gift bags, and brown paper bags, and a pink cardboard box had been set on the kitchen counter.

"Happy birthday!" she cheered as she set down everything on the counter, "I know you said you didn't want to celebrate since you weren't feeling good but...it's your birthday and I wanted to bring you some stuff to hopefully make you feel better," she mumbled as she walked over to him and pulled him into a tight hug. 

Calum watched as she walked around his kitchen, humming quietly to herself while she waited for the soup she'd brought for him to heat up on the stove. She'd been here since the afternoon, something Calum was more than grateful for, making sure that he'd been drinking enough water and that he was taking medicine to help with whatever cold had decided to hit him on his birthday. As the day went on, with birthday presents unwrapped and many pictures taken on the polaroid that she'd gotten him as one of her gifts. 

"A camera?" Calum had asked with a sniffle as he unwrapped the box with a pink bow on top of it.

"You always talk about wanting to capture more memories. I thought that maybe having polaroids would help with that. They're more concrete, not as easily forgotten like in your phone." she mumbled and smiled, taking another bite of the cake they'd both been sharing. 

"I love it." Calum nodded, "Take a picture with me?" he asked as he pulled the camera out of the box and started to set it up. 

Calum hadn't planned on kissing her. He hadn't planned on capturing the exact moment when he told her how he truly felt about her on a polaroid camera, but his heart was full of love for her and how she'd come over to celebrate his birthday with him even after he tried to kick her out to not get her sick. But Calum hadn't planned to kiss her when she sat next to him and held the polaroid camera up in front of them. 

"I love you, you know that?" Calum mumbled softly, his own eyes widening as he met her eyes. Before he knew it, his lips were on hers and a flash went off behind his closed eyelids. 

The kiss was soft, exactly like she was, soft and warm and everything Calum had needed. Her hand cupped one of his cheeks, pulling him closer as her eyes closed and she fell deeper into the kiss. Calum's arms wrapped around her waist and his forehead rested against hers as they both pulled away. They both let out a shaky breath, Calum's nose brushing against hers as they sat in each other's arms, eyes closed because they were both too afraid to open their eyes and find out that this was all just a fever dream.

"I...I love you." she whispered, finally breaking the silence and opening her eyes, "I always have loved you." she mumbled.

His tired eyes and red nose made a perfect picture, one she'd save not only in her phone but in her heart too. The small polaroids from that day were laying on the bedside table, reminding her of the sweet boy who was dozing off with his head on her chest. His soft breathing warmed her heart and she pressed a kiss onto the top of his curls, her arms tightening around Calum as she felt him start to drift off. 

"Thank you." Calum mumbled against her shoulder, "Made my birthday special, made me finally realize how much I love you." he whispered, letting out a soft yawn. 

"You deserved to have a beautiful birthday, Calum. Even if it was just laying in bed and eating way too much cake." she teased and pushed back his curls, pressing a kiss onto his forehead. "I'm glad you love me as much as I love you, birthday boy."

"Mhm, best birthday ever," he whispered, his eyes finally closing as the smile on his face fell and he finally drifted off to sleep on what was the best birthday ever. Maybe, just maybe, being twenty-five wasn't going to be as bad as he thought. 

taglist:  @hoodhoran @finelliine @moonlightcriess @dinosaursandsocks @mxgyver @calpops @karajaynetoday @notlukehemmo @calumrose @devilatmydoor @lyss-xo @lowkeyflop

#calum hood imagines #calum hood blurb #calum hood fics #calum hood oneshots #calum hood x reader #5sos fics #5sos blurbs #5sos imagines #5sos oneshot #5sos x reader #5sos #calum hood #5 seconds of summer #gemma writes #happy birthday calum!

[wolvesandpetals]

Loki x Sylvie Post-Finale Fanfiction (Angst, Rated Teen) Part 2 of 2

Part 1 is here:

She never knew it would hurt this much when the person she loves is right in front of her, but she can't reach out and touch him; when she is still her, he is still him, but everything else has changed, like an invisible lever in an old theatre changing the scenery in the background, bringing them both to the part of the play where they are hopelessly lost.

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All it took was one single moment, one single decision, and everything feels irrevocably broken now. It makes her contemplate on the true nature of relationships, how fragile they are, and how easy it is to shatter them- and her.

The smoke is slowly clearing, and all that seems to be left is a man who is doing his best to keep his distance from her, physically and emotionally.

She can tell from the way he stands with his arms crossed, or his fists clenced when his hands are by his side, that he really doesn't want to hold her hand. How can something so simple as the touch of his fingers be so vital to her existence that it feels like something has been ripped out from inside her?

She wants to reach out and touch him, but she is scared that if he pulls away outright, any hope of reconciliation that she still has left will shatter into pieces.

And she really needs this hope. It's the only thing she still has left. It's the only thing that keeps her going.

---

He looks like a man with a mission.

They spent quite a long time together, running from the TVA, running towards the citadel at the end of time, hoping to achieve their goal of bringing down the one behind the curtains.

But that was her mission, and he was there for her. She was the one behind the wheels, he was the one keeping the sails afloat.

Now it's different. Now he has a defined goal, a glorious purpose.

She's seeing him in a whole new light now, and not just because he has switched to Asgardian leather and metal armors.

As far as she is concerned, she is better off doing it all alone. One woman army, nobody to get in her way, nobody to screw up her plans. Nobody to blame her if it all goes to shit.

Or so it was, until two months ago, when Mobius decided to enlist her help in fixing the multiversal madness.

She has never really worked with people before, and it's weird, to say the least. She never considered herself a team player, but she is finding herself hating the idea less and less lately.

And she swears it has nothing to do with him. Not the fact that they are working together, and seeing his face first thing in the morning brings her a sense of calm that she quite can't explain. Or the fact that their rooms are next to each other and it makes her feel secure enough to finally get some rest at nights. Or that this whole arrangement has kept them on talking terms, when they had gone their own separate ways otherwise.

Nothing to do with that at all.

---

Humans are stupid, and the biggest evidence of this is how they decided that two extremely powerful Gods skilled at magic, enchantment, and defeating an evil extra dimensional cloud that swallows everything it touches, should be delegated to the role of research. "You're clever. You're good at reading people. You can put yourselves in the shoes of the bad guys, no offense", they said, but really, what they meant was, "We can't trust you out in the field much." She knows it, he knows it. She just doesn't know why he's complying.

That's how they find themselves researching every single day.

She likes to think he's not the only reason why she's studying in the library instead of in the comfort of her room, but that'd be a lie.

At first, he chooses to sit at a separate table. But she keeps going over to his to "get his opinion" on something in the file she's reading, and finally, he gives in. Their current arrangement consists of him sitting in the chair in front of her, to the left, prim and proper, while she hoists her feet up on the table.

He falls asleep on the desk one night, face smacked against a file, the tiniest bit of drool forming at the corner of his mouth. It would be a hilarious sight, if her heart wasn't feeling what she can only describe as longing.

They should probably talk about it, like mature adults, but neither of them know how to do that.

All she can do right now is gather the courage to run her fingers through his hair. The touch is hesitant at first, as if one wrong move would make him wake up and push her back to square one. Slowly, she relaxes, letting her fingers dance on his scalp.

He stirs in his sleep. "Please Sif. I'm sorry. Don't cut off my glorious locks, please."

Now this is a story she must hear when things are better.

If things are better.

---

Doctor Strange joins them very briefly, very rarely, but the tension between him and Loki is hard to miss. It's worse than the current situation with her, and that's saying something.

"You don't really like Stephen, do you?"

Something inside him seems to shift, but he masks it behind a non-chalant look immediately and just arches an eyebrow at her. "He's Stephen now, is he?"

"Well, that is his name." She shrugs. "What do you call him?"

"Strange", he spits the word out with an amount of irritation that indicates there definitely is a story there. "That is his name", he mimics.

She can't help the smirk that spreads across her lips. "What did he do to you?"

"Nothing", he lies, ignoring the horrifying flashbacks of thirty minutes of endless falling. Not a single soul must ever know a mere human got the best of him. "What can he do to me? I'm a God among those mortals. He just irks me because he is so pompous, and arrogant, and he ceaselessly uses magic to toy with others."

She pretends to think deeply. "Now where have I seen that before?"

He scoffs. "You mock me, but I am nothing like him. For one, I am not rude."

"He seems fine to me", she declares decisively.

It's the first time in months that he gives her a cheeky grin. "That's because you're rude too."

---

They are still just containing the threats to their world, instead of finding a way to fortify the barriers between worlds and stop the threats from coming.

"Shouldn't we have a plan to seal off the other worlds from ours?" She asks him one day.

"They are working on it." He tells her, and then with a look of worry, adds, "I hope."

There are debates on what to do at the Avengers tower and at the TVA. Nobody seems to agree on what the best course of action is, but everyone seems to be following the general instructions of Doctor Strange.

During one such meeting, a Minuteman makes the mistake of voicing out loud how she wondered if things would be better if they were running according to their old boss's plans.

Sylvie feels the guilt wash over her once more.

"No", Loki tells them all firmly. The determination in his voice takes her completely by surprise. "Evil is evil. Lesser, greater, middling, makes no difference. The degree is arbitrary. The definition’s blurred." She catches him steal a glance at her direction. "We couldn't have left a dictator in charge just because it's convenient. Listen, I'm the bad guy. I've done horrible, unspeakable things. I thought humans needed to be ruled. I wanted to rule. But even I know that it's not right to take away a person's life completely. These are innocent people. You are innocent people. You have families back home, parents, children", a pause and a softening of his features, "-love. A whole past, a whole future. That man had no right to take it away from you."

His powers of persuasion are foreign to her, and it's mesmerizing to watch. Her enchantments cannot hold a candle to how he is able to just talk people into doing what he wants, thinking what he thinks, seeing what he sees.

"He who remains had a plan. One, singular plan, from one, singular man." There is absolute conviction in his voice. "It's not the only way. We'll find another way. A better way."

She has never known what it is like to have someone see you for who you are- broken and flawed, and defend you- even your well-intentioned actions that yielded different results than what you expected and hurt them in the process. She suspects it has been the same for him, a lifetime of not having anyone have his back.

The warm feeling inside her is brand new. What is the name of this? Comfort? Relief?

Happiness?

---

This will be their first time out in the field in a long time, and she feels a little sick to the stomach.

He notices. "Are you alright?"

The concern in his voice tugs at her heartstrings. She nods. She has faced way worse, she shouldn't be so nervous about this, but she is. "I've never done this before."

"We can always just kill him and blame it on the Chitauris", he suggests with a serious face.

"I heard that", Peter yells from the other room, where he is doing whatever it is that teenagers do to prepare for battle.

She shakes her head in disbelief. "I can't believe we're babysitting."

"I've done this before", he assures her, and it surprises her to picture him being entrusted with such a serious task. "The trick is to conjure up illusions that keep them distracted enough to not cry."

She laughs. "You're thinking of infants. This one is a little older."

"I'm over a thousand years old, Sylvie. They're all infants to me."

Peter joins them, mask covering his face so that he doesn't reveal his identity. "So what do I call you? Loki and Loki? That's confusing. How about Loki and Lady Loki? Or is that offensive? I'm not suggesting women are inferior, because they're absolutely not..."

"Does he come with an off switch?" She whispers in horror as Peter rambles on.

Loki grins. With one wave of his hand and a flash of green, Peter's own webbing shoots out and seals his mouth shut.

---

Things are fine but not fine at the same time. He's right there beside her, but not there at all. They have their banters, they have their stolen glances, but they haven't had a meaningful conversation since that first day when she got back. She's been putting it off for a long time, but she knows they really do need to have the talk.

She corners him in his room one evening while he's tinkering with a temporal collar. She takes a seat in the chair next to his bed and rests her hand on the table, leaning her head against her palm, before switching position and crossing her arms and legs. Everything about her posture screams uneasiness. If he notices- he probably does- he doesn't say anything.

"You defended me that day."

He briefly looks up from the task at hand and gives her a soft smile. "Of course."

She blinks. "I don't understand." Her hands involuntary rise up to rub her temples. "If you can justify my actions to them, then how can you still be mad at me?"

"I'm not mad at you", he says without missing a beat.

"Rubbish", her words come out angrier than she intended. This frustration is the result of the months of status quo they have had. She has to know now, one way or the other. "You're distant. You're guarded", she accuses. Then her voice breaks, as she feels a part of her break all over again with her next words. "You don't hold my hand. Why? Tell me."

He abandons the collar and focuses his full attention on her. Staring straight into her eyes, he answers her. "You know why."

"I wouldn't be asking if I did. Look, if it's because I chose the mission over you-"

"-Of course it's not that." He says decisively. Then a sad smile clouds his face. It's the same look he had when she accused him of conning her to gain the throne. "Do you think I'm the type of man who would want a woman to abandon her life-long ambitions just because she has met someone?"

She knows he isn't. But it still doesn't answer why he is so cross with her. "What is it then?"

He pauses for a moment, trying to decide whether he wants to bare his soul out to her once more or not. There are two ways he can go from here- choose to not let her in again and save himself from the hurt, or trust her again and open himself up to potential pain.

Who is he kidding? Pushing her away- keeping her away- doesn't hurt any less.

There were a thousand things that had to go wrong to bring two Lokis from two universes together. A connection like that, it doesn't just happen.

And it doesn't just go away. The pain is constant, it's a part of him, pounding like a second heart every second he has to stop himself from reaching out for her hand.

This has to come to an end.

He takes in a deep breath, bracing himself. "You didn't have to send me away, Sylvie. I wanted to stop you from making the same mistakes I did. But in the end, I didn't care what you chose. I just wanted us to do it together."

She never even imagined this could be the reason for his hurt. All these months spent thinking he hates her for her choices, and now it turns out he is hurt simply because she chose to do it alone? "I'm sorry." She says sincerely. "I just wanted you to be safe."

"And I just wanted to be there with you till the end." He confesses. His eyes shimmer with the emotions he has kept bottled in for so long. "You go, I go."

She doesn't know what to say to that. She has never been good at articulating her feelings. Tears stream down her cheeks at the realisation that even after everything, he is still there for her.

She didn't cry even back at Lamentis when they thought they were going to die. She doesn't let anyone see her cry when she is sad or scared. That's all she has known her whole life. She's used to it by now.

This is new. These are tears of relief. Comfort.

Happiness.

Tentatively, she crosses over to the bed and sits by his side.

It's quiet for a few minutes. But unlike the months of tension so thick she could cut it into splices with her daggers, this is comfortable silence. The kind they had before it all went wrong.

"Did you even miss me?" He whispers.

"What kind of silly question is that? Of course I did." Her shaking hands grab his, and oh how she missed this.

He intertwines their fingers. His eyes draw closed. Bliss. That's the only word for this feeling.

He opens his eyes again and studies her. She's staring back at him, teary-eyed, but with a hopeful smile. "Really? Because you have a really unique way of showing it. You didn't even come looking for me."

"I didn't know how to face you", she tells him honestly. No tricks, no enchantment, no treachery. Not with him. "I didn't know if you even wanted to see me." Her voice grows quieter, dropping to a timbre that perfectly encapsulates her deepest fear. "I thought you hated me."

"Hate you?" He is shocked that she thinks that is even possible, specially after seeing him these last few months. "Sylvie, I'm working with the Avengers. The Avengers. Do you know how much I hate them? They are my nemesis. They're self-righteous, condescending, and so completely dull. Every second with them makes me want to rip their hearts out. Why do you think I'm here with them?"

She thinks she knows. But she needs to hear it anyway.

"It's because of you." He lays it all out on the table. All cards on deck, win or lose. "You've been running away. I have been the one who has been here, trying to hold down the fort, working to fix everything. Because that is what one does when one loves-"

Shit. The word slips out before he realises it.

Their eyes go wide in unison.

"Sylvie, I-"

"-Don't you dare take it back now." She warns him. "I-" She doesn't know how to say it either. They make such a great pair, both equally daft at saying how they feel, like they are teenagers, not Gods who have lived for centuries. "I've been running because I didn't think I could bear the burden of knowing I found you and then I lost you. I don't want to lose you. Not now, not ever."

He kisses the back of her hand, before letting it go. He cups her face, gently caressing her cheeks with his thumbs. "I don't want to lose you either."

She leans in closer, until their foreheads touch. She can feel his breath on her face, warm and soft. That is exactly how she feels inside. "You won't", she promises. "You go, I go."

---

(Quote on Lesser Evil from The Witcher. Thanks for reading!!)

#fanfiction #fanfic #loki #loki disney+ #loki x sylvie #sylki #sylvie laufeydottir #sylvie x loki #pro sylki

[razrbladekiss]

Tyrants | Chapter Three - Presage

WORD COUNT: 2.4k

WARNINGS: Brief mentions of Wendy’s drug use. Nothing explicitly *bad* goes on here, just some of the usual SOA shit is hinted at. :) Tig <3

MASTERLIST

Ninety degrees was horrendous. Ninety-six degrees saw Isla spiraling toward a fully-fledged mental breakdown, desperate to climb out of her own fucking flesh and melt into the parking lot outside of St. Thomas.

Seeing the Sons sporting leathers, hoodies, and long-sleeved shirts underneath their cuts made her skin crawl, too.

She'd thrown on the flounciest summer dress she owned, thin and wispy, and she was still roasting to death underneath the Californian sunshine.

It felt like they were living in the fucking ass-crack of hell.

Though, with their current state and Charming's infestation of ATF and other federal agents, hell wasn't too far off the mark.

"Thanks for the ride." Isla expressed her gratitude as she slid off of the back of Tig's bike, pulling the helmet away from loose blonde curls.

"No problem, baby--you good to get home, yeah?"

"Yeah. I'm meeting Gem here, so she'll take me back to T M in time to pick my car up," she confirmed, readjusting herself.

She couldn't risk Tig Trager getting an eyeful of her asscheeks today. Not again, anyway.

"Perfect. See 'ya later, beautiful." Isla leaned in for him to peck her cheek--which was habitual for the pair--and she did the same.

Her smile was wide. She was beaming. "Bye, Tiggy. I love you."

"Love you too, kid." He reciprocated the smile, squeezing her hand as she broke away and padded toward the steps, brushing her fingers through wind-tousled strands.

Things were, for the first time in about a week, finally looking up. Resuming a sense of normality, perhaps.

She and Trager had been on precarious terms since that day, and had been avoiding one another altogether. Which, for them, was strange.

Days went by without even so much as a word being uttered between the pair, no backhanded comments, or even sideways glances.

Usually, they'd be bickering like kids, arguing nonsensically until Clay or Chibs broke them apart--but it was all just their little bit of fun. Because they bounced off of one another.

They lauded the relationship they shared because, really, it was one of the strongest.

He'd been her official favorite since the very day that they met--he and Bobby were the two she liked to talk to whenever she felt that she couldn't confide in her father.

But the last few days were so fucking hard. She was struggling with the weight of all that she did, coupled with the stress of not being able to discern Tig's current feelings on her.

And after she'd lashed out, had bitched at him for no fucking reason, she was pretty certain that Tiggy didn't want to know anymore.

That was thrown out of the window this morning, however, when Isla's clutch blew out, and she needed a ride from the garage to the hospital to see Abel.

Of course Tig was there for her. He always would be.

"Hey." Isla spoke softly as she held the little blue bear close to her chest. "I stopped by the gift shop on the way up here--Jax said he's already got bears and balloons comin' outta his ass, so I thought what's one more?"

Gemma couldn't help but smile, gesturing for the blonde to sit with her opposite Abel's isolette.

"He'll love you for it," she joked, though she knew that she was appreciative. For her company more so the stuffed animal.

With their commitment to the club and the current battle against the ATF, Jax and Clay weren't as hands on as what they usually would've liked.

Of course, Teller was at that baby's side whenever he got the chance to break away from SAMCRO, but he wanted more. He wanted the satisfaction of knowing that his little boy was being provided with the best possible care at St. Thomas.

And he was. He absolutely was. But he needed to know--for his own peace of mind, he needed to see that. So, his mother was there every waking fucking moment, giving him that love he could only get from his Grandma.

"How's he doing?" Her query was braided around a whisper, worried she'd disturb Abel's peaceful rest. "Jax said he should be coming home soon."

Gemma simply affirmed with a nod, gazing affectionately at her grandson.

It was heartwarming to see so much love, so much adoration from a woman who had a reputation for being a fucking cunt--thus proving that Gemma's main priority was her family, and their health and happiness.

That, somehow, made Isla love her even more than what she already did.

It also made her a tad jealous of Jax and the fact that he still had his mother in his life.

"He's gettin' stronger and stronger everyday. Tara said he'll be set to leave Friday--"

"Tara?" Her brow lifted as she put the bear amongst the pile of gifts. "I thought she was a doctor, I didn't think she had anything to do with the babies?"

Gemma's smile faltered a little. "She's a pediatric surgeon. Been takin' care of Abel since the start."

"Oh."

Now, she would've known that if she'd taken the time to visit her best friend's kid since he was born. But she hadn't--she hadn't even considered taking a trip over to St. Thomas to check in on Jax's baby.

And it was for the simple fucking reason that she couldn't bear the thought of facing Wendy and having to be nice to her. Especially after what she fucking did to that poor little boy.

She subsequently landed her own flesh and blood in the hospital after shooting heroin while pregnant? And she wanted Jax to pardon her for it?

Isla wasn't a hateful person, she didn't care about what people did in their spare time because that was their time.

But the moment an innocent person was harmed due to the carelessness of others...That was when she felt a scathing animosity.

"She's good with him." Gemma stated bitterly, snapping Isla from her ire-fueled daydream. "Kills me to say it, but she's a gem. A real fuckin' star."

"I'd bet. She was always good with kids."

"Yeah?" Suddenly interested, the older woman crossed over her arms. "Who's kids?"

Finally, Isla took a seat beside her on top of plush blue leather.

"A few of the girls we were in high school with had kids pretty young and Tara was usually super keen to hold them, or just hang out at their places whenever we weren't at school. Or it could've just been the wannabe doctor in her, now that I think about it."

"She's pretty maternal," Isla hummed in agreement, "but I'm glad she and Jax never had kids when you were teenagers--I don't know how that would've looked for him."

Suddenly, she was staring at Gemma like she had two fucking heads.

"I don't trust her." She elaborated, drawing another confused glance from Isla. "She and Jax would have been a fucking disaster had she stayed--"

"And things worked out so much better with Wendy?" A little more vehemently than intended, the blonde asked.

Now Gemma was the one shooting dirty looks.

"Look, Gem, I'm just saying. Jax and Tara are history now, yeah? You don't have to trust her. Just thank her for what she's doing for your grandson because when he's outta this place, you won't need to worry about her."

"And you're so sure about that, huh?" Skeptically, she asked. Arms folded over. "You know what they're like--like two fucking magnets or something. They always find a way back to one another."

That line gutted her.

It hurt her--it was agonizing--but she wasn't sure why she was so beaten by it. Because it was the truth, wasn't it?

Tara and Jax were, at one point, the strongest couple she'd ever known, and when it fizzled out he was fucking broken. She hadn't seen him so downtrodden since JT had passed, and he was suddenly left without the strength and guidance of his father.

She was his everything. Isla was a fool to think he'd be able to see her back in Charming and not feel something for her. His first love.

"I think we should throw Abel a homecoming party on Friday--if he's coming home then, that is." Gemma shifted the topic of conversation, getting to her feet.

"Absolutely. I'll help."

"Yeah?" She asked a little doubtingly, reaching over to pick Abel up. "You don't have to--I know you work Friday's."

Isla waved her off, standing beside the brunette. "I do, but it's no bother. If everyone's gonna be there, then I wanna show my face too. Offer a helping hand of some sort."

"Alright, perfect," Gem stated softly, holding the baby close to her chest. "When we get back to T M, we can figure out what we need to get."

"Sounds like a plan--" Isla was cut off by a soft knocking at the door, irritating her a little bit because she'd only just gotten there and hated the idea of having to leave already.

She made a mental note to stop by a little earlier tomorrow.

"Hey, sorry to bother you--" Tara stopped herself when she needed her estranged friend, almost dropping the clipboard she was holding against her chest.

Isla Telford was the last fucking person she expected to see today.

"Hey," with a fake smile, she greeted.

The tension was palpable.

Gemma felt the irritation washing over her favorite of the duo, urging her to turn her attention back toward her grandson before she said anything to worsen the situation.

Because she would've.

"Uh, I've gotta run a few tests on Abel before we determine that he'll be ready to leave this week, if that's alright?" Tara gestured to Gemma, ignoring Isla's presence.

That stung a little bit.

"Yeah. It's fine." The response was blunt. Terse, to a point.

"Great."

Isla realized that she wasn't wanted in that space any longer. She grabbed her purse, turning toward the door. "I'll meet you outside."

"Yeah, alright," Gemma put the baby back into his crib, smiling at Isla. "You want my keys?"

"I'll wait on the steps--I'm gonna smoke--"

"Before you go," Tara cut in. She cleared her throat, trying to smile--but she just couldn't.

Telford sensed where it was going, however. There wasn't a reason for her to stop Isla in her tracks, in front of Gemma no less.

She wondered how long it'd take for it to be brought up.

"Thanks."

Gratitude genuinely swept over the doctor, letting Isla know she was truthful in her acknowledgment--or, was it more like a form of praise? Because Jax definitely told Tara what they both did for her, and she was astounded that the woman would even float the idea of helping out.

It was a strange notion. To know what she did--when she looked and acted like that--was fucking weird. And nobody would've believed her if she said that Isla helped to dispose of a dead body, which did make her laugh a little.

She knew how to hold, load, and fire a pistol, but she wasn't capable of committing the unspeakable the same way that Jax, or Chibs, or Clay were capable of it.

But she was slowly earning her title as 'Daughter of Sgt. At Arms/ Man of Mayhem.' And she wasn't sure how she liked that.

"You're welcome," she spoke plainly. "Hope everything is alright now, Tara."

"It is."

"Good." Her retort was immediate, laced with that same genuineness the other woman expressed. "You free this coming friday?"

Hesitantly, she nodded.

"If all goes to plan--and Abel is good to come home--we're gonna throw a little party for the boy," Gemma confirmed with a nod. "You wanna swing by? Everyone'll be there--Donna, Ope, their kids, Wendy, the rest of the Sons. You should come. It'll be nice for everyone to see 'ya again."

Wendy's name falling from those pink lips, in such a positive light, maimed Isla. She and Jax were starting to get along a little bit better now, but she was still wary of that woman.

"Yeah. It'll be great," the older woman added.

Tara felt cornered. She knew that she wasn't really wanted, and she also knew that was a way for Isla and her menopausal best friend--old enough to be her fuckin' mom--to keep the doctor as close as possible without explicitly saying that they wanted to keep an eye on her.

"Sure. I'll stop by."

"Brilliant." Gemma conceded, slipping past the pair. "Address hasn't changed, sweetheart."

It was passive aggressive, sickly-sweet, and it was Gemma to a fucking T. The woman was loathing every second she had to spend with Tara Knowles and she wasn't even trying to hide it.

But it didn't have to be for very long, she thought.

"What was that all about? Why'd she thank you?" Gem queried as they got outside, passing the lighter to her left.

"For not breaking her fucking neck when I had the chance to all those years ago, probably."

Isla sparked her cigarette, pacing alongside her as they headed toward the car.

"That's bullshit."

"How so?"

"Just is." She could read Chibs's little girl like a fucking book. "But I won't press--if it's something between you and Tara, I don't care to hear. Just lemme know if it goes south. I can put a bullet in her for you, baby."

Isla would've laughed had she not known that Gemma was deadly fucking serious about blowing Tara's brains out.

But it was a relief. For her to give it up just like that--uncharacteristically so--was a kind of relief that she never thought she'd feel from Gemma Teller.

She was used to being protected. Used to being viewed as the one that needed to be shielded from the horrors that shrouded the Sons. But Isla wasn't innocent, nor was she fucking stupid.

The security was appreciated, however. Because, lately, things just didn't seem to be going too great for her.

And, if she'd learned anything, they'd only worsen from here on out.

"You don't have to go full mama bear mode, Gem. I'm a big girl."

She laughed, turning to face Isla.

"I know," smoke blew from her nose, "but you've gotta protect the ones you wanna keep close, y'know? The ones you love."

The tip of Gemma's boot pulverized her cigarette into the sidewalk as she fished for the car keys, avoiding eye contact all together.

"I haven't been able to protect everyone I've wanted to from the shit that goes on in this town, honey, but I'm really tryin'. And I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to you or my boy."

#tig trager #tig trager fic #tig trager fanfiction #sons of anarchy fic #sons of anarchy fanfiction #sons of anarchy fandom #jax teller x oc #sons of anarchy #jax teller fanfiction #jax teller