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elizabeethan · 4 years

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My Hands, Your Hands

Chapter 1 / 2

Part 2

After being cheated on by her boyfriend, Emma Nolan moves in with her older brother David and his two stupid roommates, Will and Killian. After a night of drinking games and plenty of rum, Emma lands on the one rule that she'd rather avoid: "The Iron Curtain- player to your left."

Modern Captain Swan AU based on the New Girl episode where Nick and Jess go behind the Iron Curtain

Read on AO3

Killian got a new leather jacket in the mail and wouldn’t take it off. Like, he would not take it off. He keeps walking around in it saying stupid things like, “it really makes my hips pop,” and “I know it’s black, but it’s, like, a different kind of black. It brings out my eyes.” Emma is seriously about to lose it. What makes matters worse is the fact that David and Will aren’t trying to stop him from acting as stupid as he is. They’re amping him up because they want to go out tonight, and it’s very un-fun going out with Killian when he’s down in the dumps about Milah. Still.

Milah broke up with Killian months before Emma moved in. She had been cheated on by her long-term boyfriend Neal and needed a new place, and the only place with a room available happened to be her older brother’s loft, which happened to be filled with three grown men who act like children. Killian apparently took his breakup pretty hard, although she doubts he was as openly and embarrassingly emotional as she was. According to David, Milah was the one who got away. Evidently, she loved Kilian, but had to let him go. Her words, not Emma’s. Also evident was the fact that she very quickly moved into another’s man’s apartment after dumping his ass.

So, while Emma had managed to get over Neal, she thinks rather successfully, Killian was still nursing that post-breakup hangover and hadn’t been out with the guys in several months. David usually doesn’t go out drinking, Emma assumes because he is in a long-term, committed relationship, so this is apparently momentous. Will is very excited to get out and get laid as he so eloquently put it. And now, with Killian’s new-found confidence thanks to a leather duster, he plans on getting laid as well.

She has to admit, despite how obnoxious and childish he’s being, the black leather does work very well on him. His fair skin and dark hair compliment it, his muscular shoulders fit inside perfectly, and his ocean blue eyes truly do stand out.

She immediately shakes that thought out of her head.

Emma plans to stay home alone tonight; her current fling Walsh is working, and her best friend Ruby has a date. She could try and call Mary Margaret, David’s aforementioned girlfriend, but the two of them are more… daytime friends. Meaning, they get along great when they're doing adult things like having brunch or decorating the loft, but when it comes to Emma’s more childish side (read: drinking in excess) she sometimes feels as though Mary Margaret disapproves. Almost as if she’s the mom friend, but in a way that makes Emma feel like she could actually be her mother. This could be because she’s dating Emma’s older brother, or it could be because Mary Margaret has basically the purest soul of anyone Emma has ever met. Perhaps a combination of both.

Honestly, Emma would totally go out with the guys tonight. But apparently that wouldn’t work in their favor.

“I’m so down,” Emma exclaimed when Will announced their plans, jumping off the counter and imagining what outfit she would wear. She hasn’t been out in weeks and it wouldn’t kill her to act like a single lady for a night.

“No way.” Killian practically jumped out of his own seat and stood directly in front of her, blocking her way to her bedroom. “You can’t come. I actually want to get laid tonight. You’d just get in the way.”

“Excuse me!”

“You would! Do you know how difficult it would be to get a woman to come home with me with you present? There’s no way you’re coming,” Killian says, rather rudely.

“He’s right, Emma. It’d just make it harder for us guys if a lady was there,” Will added, shrugging and making the most insincerely apologetic face.

“Maybe I can call Mary Margaret and see if she wants to hang out with you tonight?”

So now she’s stuck at home. Emma spent the rest of the evening glaring at Killian before they left. She could also place equal blame on Will and David, but Killian is easier to glare at. Each time she looks over at him and narrowed her eyes, he shoots her a stupid, cocky grin and waggles his eyebrows.

“Don’t wait up for us, Swan. Although, it may be difficult to sleep by the time we get home. We are right across the hall from one another, so if you think me and my lady friend are being too loud, well… just try and block it out.” Everything that Killian says to her is a joke, but that doesn’t make her glare any softer.

“Shut up, Jones. You’d be lucky to get anyone to come home with you. Women will take one look at your stupid jacket and run for the hills,” she scoffs, pinching the fabric at his collar and dismissively flicking it away from her.

“You said you liked my jacket!” His eyes grow twice their normal size and he feigns hurt, placing his right hand over his heart and gasping.

“Just tell me you’re not actually going to wear it out tonight. It’s so long and flowy I feel like I could’ve worn it to prom.”

“I’m sure it would look wonderful on you, love. But I think it will look better on my bedroom floor,” he says, another waggle in his thick brows. Emma glowers and groans.

“You’re so stupid! Who says that?”

“Oh, you love my sense of humor, Swan, don’t try and fight it,” he says in a low voice, leaning in closer to her and looking at her through his long lashes.

“I’ve told you so many times to stop calling me that.” Emma rolls her eyes and turns around towards her bedroom, but his hand catches the crook of her elbow.

“It’s funny. That’s one of the best things I’ve ever seen. Why wouldn’t you want me to continuously memorialize it?”

“It’s not funny! I was attacked!”

Killian chuckles and let’s go of her arm, a soft smile now decorating his face. “You’ll be alright here tonight, aye Swan? I didn’t mean to make you feel unwelcome.”

Emma rolls her eyes again as she walks into her bedroom and Killian follows. “Yes, you did. And it’s fine, I get it. Wouldn’t want anyone to get in the way of Killian Jones’s great conquest,” she says sarcastically, waving jazz hands in front of his eyes.

It was Killian’s turn to roll his eyes now, blue disappearing behind his lids as he scoffs and smirks. He shakes his head leaves his place in her threshold.

~~~

Emma didn’t always like Killian. Okay, she doesn’t really like him that much now, but when she first moved in, she couldn’t stand him. He was completely cocky, which David explained was a symptom of his difficult breakup. Apparently, it was arduous for him to get over the love of his life without acting like an asshole. Emma’s not sure what Will’s excuse was; the youngest of the three, he seems to get into the most trouble. David’s the oldest of the group, and also the most mature. He takes on a caretaking role rather effortlessly, just as he always has with Emma.

As she sits at home alone, she becomes so desperately bored that she considers organizing her closet. However, knowing that that would never happen, she chooses to put on a scary movie and make some popcorn.

When it ends, she decides to call Walsh while she thinks he’s on his break. Lately, even though they’ve only been seeing each other casually for about a month, she’s been feeling as if he expects much more from her than she’s willing to give. It seems as if he wants a committed relationship, although he hasn’t come out and said it, and she’s been feeling pressure to act more like a girlfriend.

Of course, it’s only natural that the hot water pipes should clang loudly in this moment, causing her to scream and throw what’s left of her popcorn right as she finishes up her voicemail.

“Swan,” she hears from outside the door. “Swan?” Killian swings the door open with fervor; his brows twisted into a concerned arch. David and Will were behind him, along with one of the most beautiful women Emma has ever seen. She offhandedly wonders who she decided to go home with.

“Hi,” she replies, reaching down to pick up some of the popcorn that went flying around her. “How was your night?”

“It was great, Emma. I’d like you to meet Sabine,” Will cuts in and gestures towards the woman with a cheeky grin on his face. “Sabine, this is my totally platonic roommate, Emma.”

“Nice to meet you,” Sabine says with a small wave and an oddly flirty smile. “This is a great place you guys have.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Killian tells me you created a great drinking game, and the vibe at the bar was totally off, so we thought we’d check it out. Mind if we play?” Emma finds it interesting that Will seems to think he brought Sabine home, but Sabine appears to be all over Killian. Killian starts towards Emma now, and miraculously takes off his stupid jacket before sitting on the arm of the chair she’s in, smirking. The asshole.

“Sure, that’s fine. Everyone needs a drink and we need to find the dice and board though,” she turns her attention to Will. If he thinks she’s helping set this up, he’s got another thing coming. “I’ll take a rum and coke.”

Killian’s looking down at her still, so she looks back at him and glares once again. “Can I help you with something?”

“Aye,” he says softly, reaching his right hand towards her face. She thinks she almost feels her lashes fluttering at his soft touch, until she feels a slight pull of a few strands of hair at the top of her head.

“Ow, what the hell?”

“More popcorn, love. How’d that get there?” She rolls her eyes (yes, again), and takes the kernel from his hand, tempted to throw it at him.

“I don’t know. Maybe I was saving it for later, and now you’ve just ruined my midnight snack.” Killian laughs- actually throws his head back and laughs, before raising his right arm over her shoulders and sliding himself into the chair she’s in, effectively squishing the both of them.

“Again, what the hell,” she asks, her tone incredulous and hostile.

“Not enough seats, love. Ruby’s on her way.”

“How would you know that? And why wouldn’t I just share a seat with Ruby?”

“We text from time to time, mostly about you,” he says, his brows switching places as he raises one and lowers the other.

“Shup up, you idiot,” she says with an eye roll. Pretty soon, they’re going to get stuck up there. At least, she thinks that’s what Mary Margaret would tell her. Killian chuckles deeply in response and she thinks she feels him squeezing his arm tighter around her shoulder. She knows he put it there to annoy her, but she doesn’t particularly mind, what with her irrational scare a few minutes before. “So, what the hell are you doing home this early?”

“It’s like Sabine said, Swan, the vibe at the bar was totally off,” he says sarcastically, clearly poking fun at Will’s new friend.

“So off that you couldn’t get anyone to come home with you? With that jacket?” Emma feigns shock, putting her hands to her cheeks and raising her brows, painting herself with a concerned expression. “Sabine seems to think you guys make a great match.”

“Wasn’t really interested, I suppose. She’s better suited for Will.”

“Please,” she scoffs, “she’s hot as hell, and earlier you literally said, and I quote, ‘I actually want to get laid tonight.’” Her take on his accent is truly terrible.

His response is minimal, simply a shrug of his right shoulder as he works his way out of the chair that he wedged the two of them into. “You know you aren’t getting that drink from Will. You want a lime?” She nods, looking at him incredulously. They’ve lived together for nine months and he still acts like he doesn’t know what she drinks. It’s not as if they don’t drink together nearly every weekend.

~~~

The game started only once everyone finally got their shit together. It’s true, Emma did create an awesome drinking game. A poster board and Mary Margaret’s artistic abilities quickly allowed for the creation of a game somewhere in between Candy Land and Monopoly. Okay, not really, but the concept is similar. Emma’s game states that the player roles a die and moves their game piece the appropriate number of spaces, then completes the task in the square they land on. Many of the tasks are drinking related. The game was created while they were all drunk.

Emma roles the die and moves five spaces, commanded to drink because she’s from out of state. Killian must drink as well, and so must Sabine. Killian roles next and drinks because he doesn’t have brown eyes. Emma and David drink here too. At some point, Ruby does show up and complains about her date with the doctor named Whale. Emma thinks that anyone named after an animal cannot be trusted. Then she stops herself, remembering the stupid name Killian gave her.

The game goes on for many rounds, and each of them get drunker with each role of the die. Eventually, Sabine lands on Never Have I Ever, and the loser must finish their drink, while everyone also takes a sip for each finger they put down. Emma, Ruby, and David all have one finger left, and it’s Killian’s turn to call a rule. He stares her dead in the face and smirks, one brow raised higher than she even thought was possible.

“Alright, never have I ever…” he pauses, moving his right hand up to pinch his bottom lip and jut his jaw forward, his tongue running along his lip. Fuck, Emma thinks. I must be drunk. “Never have I ever been attacked in a park by the local wildlife.”

Emma freezes and glares in his direction while everyone else laughs. She was holding up her pointer finger, but she drops it and replaces it with her middle. Then, despite the fogginess in her brain, she picks up her glass and takes another swig of her third perfectly made rum and coke.

Once she finishes what’s in her glass, it’s her turn to role, and she lands on the one square that only one other person has ever landed on: The Iron Curtain- player to your left.

In her drunken state, Emma’s not sure how well she hid her horror. She does not want to go behind the Iron Curtain. Only once was this rule played out, and it was the night that sparked silence between Ruby and Will for two weeks afterwards.

Ruby cheers and stands up excitedly, jumping for joy and spilling her wine in the process. David groans and says she doesn’t have to do this. Sabine looks at Will, clearly wondering what the hell is going on.

Emma has to go behind the giant metal sliding door and kiss someone. Specifically, she has to kiss the person to her left.

When she looks to her left, all she sees is a sea of blue covered by thick black brows. “No way,” he says.

“It’s the rules!” Ruby has never looked more excited, and her wolfish grin is very off-putting.

“No! I’m not kissing Killian!”

“Well I’m not kissing you!”

“Oh, come on, we’re all adults here! It’ll literally take a minute,” Ruby tries to reason unsuccessfully.

“A minute? How long do you think we’re going to be kissing? I’m certainly not kissing my best friend’s sister for a full minute.” He looks over at her and shrugs.

“That’s a great point, Killian,” David chimes in.

“Nothing from you, pal,” Will pipes up. “The rules state that she must go behind the Iron Curtain with the person to her left. She should’ve sat next to Ruby and this whole thing could’ve been avoided.” His attempt at lightening the mood is truly upsetting.

“Okay, fuck this. If it’s gonna get everyone off my back, I’ll go behind the stupid Iron Curtain with stupid Killian Jones. Let’s go, idiot.” She grabs his right hand and yanks, noticing that it isn’t all that difficult to get him to come with her. Behind her, everyone is whooping and chanting kiss kiss kiss! as they shut the sliding door behind them.

Once they're behind the door, the chants become muffled and she’s finally able to comprehend what the hell she’s doing. She’s quite drunk, mainly because Killian is always very generous with the rum when he makes her drinks. She’s not so sure about him though.

“We’re not actually doing this, are we Swan?”

“You know, I made the game, and now I’m really mad at myself. Why did you have to sit on my left?”

He scoffs, although she thinks she sees a smile in his eyes. “I always sit on your left, Swan. We literally always sit in the same seats when we play this.”

She rolls her eyes once again. “It’s the rules, we have to just suck it up and do it.”

“I don’t want to suck it up, Jesus. So crass.”

“Why are you so against kissing me? Do you really think it’ll be that bad, Jones?” She’s raising her voice slightly, for which she blames the rum. “We’re both drunk, we can just do it and forget it happened tomorrow.”

“I am not even close to being as drunk as you are right now, Swan. And did you forget that you have a boyfriend? Because I didn’t.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend, Killian,” she scoffs, backing to the wall and sliding down into a sitting position. He cocks his head and turns his body so that he can copy what she did, sitting on her left side again.

“Trouble in paradise, love?”

“No… I don’t know. Walsh is fine, it’s just…” she trails off, not sure how to finish the statement. Things with Walsh are just that, fine. But lately, she can’t help the feeling that things between them just aren’t right. “Fine doesn’t seem promising to me, Emma. Are you sure that’s enough?” She’s honestly caught off guard by the way he says her name. Not love, not Swan, Emma. As if he means what he says, and cares about her answer.

“No,” she replies so softly she’s unsure if she even heard herself. “I think we want different things.” He hums in response, nodding his head slowly and bumping his shoulder into hers.

“I’m not convinced kissing me would make that any better. Maybe we shouldn’t do this. I really don’t want to kiss you like this.” For some reason, Emma suddenly feels herself grappling with a strange sensation. I really don’t want to kiss you like this. A pit has formed in her stomach and it feels as though someone has reached in and grabbed her heart, squeezing as hard as they could. Rejection.

Why on earth would Emma Nolan be upset that Killian Jones doesn’t want to kiss her? Hell, she doesn’t want to kiss him! So, what is it about these words that threaten to send her over the edge? These words that make her feel so much more sadness than she thought was possible?

“It’s fine,” she breathes, refusing to lift her head in his direction.

“Swan,” he says carefully. “Emma… What’s wrong, love?” She’s never heard his voice sound so smooth and velvety and caring. Part of her wants to lean into him and take comfort in his softness, but the other part of her continues to replay his words over in her head. I really don’t want to kiss you like this.

Rude of him to assume that she’s too drunk and sloppy for a kiss, considering he’s the one who made her this way.

“Stop calling me that,” she finally says dismissively, getting up too quickly and stumbling her way towards the door.

~~~

“Emma?!” She hears the annoying voice before she sees the face it belongs to. Walsh is pounding on the door, and frankly, he’s the last person she wants to see right now.

“Did you kiss?” Ruby asks her with her grin still plastered on her face, and Emma rolls her eyes. She sees David looking at her from the corner of her eye, then sees him get up and go towards the door.

“Emma, are you alright? Oh, hey everyone,” Walsh says when the door finally opens and he sees the party of people in the loft. “Emma, I got your voicemail. Are you okay? You were screaming.”

“Did you call Walsh while you were behind the curtain with Killian? Emma, that’s sneaky! But you can’t get out of this one!” Ruby’s brows waggle in a way that resembles Killian’s, and Emma’s eyes launch themselves into the back of her head with a roll.

“What does that mean, behind the curtain? Are you okay?”

“Walsh, I’m fine. We’re just playing a game. The pipes creaked while I was calling you and it startled me.” Emma’s mood is completely shot, and she isn’t even really sure why. Frankly, she’s pissed at herself for being upset right now.

“Well, where’s Killian? I’d like to know what he was up to during this game.” She can hear the sarcasm dripping from his voice for whatever reason.

“How should I know where he went,” She snaps. “I’m not his keeper, I don’t track his every move.”

“Emma, calm down. Jesus. Do you know what it’s like to receive such a horrible message while I’m at work and then have to come over here and see everyone trashed out of their minds? Would it kill you to just chill out for a second rather than jumping down my throat for asking a simple question?”

“Woah, mate,” she hears from behind Walsh. Killian has made his way out from behind the curtain and is wearing a look of astonishment on his face.

“No one asked you, Jones.”

“Shut up, Walsh,” Emma retorts. The room suddenly feels much quieter than it was just a few seconds ago. Will has turned the music down and everyone has stopped shout-talking.

“Excuse me?”

“I said shut up. Don’t talk to my friend like that. Don’t talk to me like that. I didn’t ask you to come over here. In fact, if you had given me a heads up, I would’ve told you not to come over here.”

“Are you serious? You literally left me a voicemail as if you were in grave danger, and now you’re mad at me for checking on you?”

“You checking on me isn’t the problem here! The problem is that you clearly don’t actually give a shit and you’re just here to keep up appearances!”

“What does that even mean? That’s absurd.” He’s rolling his eyes this time, still standing close to the still-open door. David and Killian are both behind him, eyeing Emma carefully.

“If you really cared about me potentially being in danger, you wouldn’t have come over here with a whole stick up your ass. And you certainly wouldn’t have gotten upset when you saw that I was fine!” Killian purses his lips and nods, and David shoots her a discreet grin.

Walsh scoffs, backing towards the door some more. “You know what, I don’t need this.”

“Good,” Emma retorts. “Neither do I. Go home, Walsh.”

“Where do you think I’m going? Christ, I swear. Go have fun with Killian, I guess.”

“Don’t bother coming back, and don’t call me! I don’t wanna hear from you!” She’s shouting at him, as if he’s too far away to hear her, even though he hasn’t crossed the threshold.

“Why would I come back? It’s always been obvious that you don’t want me here, Emma! I don’t even know why I ever bothered! A slut like you could never settle down!”

She feels like she’s been punched. What grounds could Walsh possibly have to call her a slut? In her entire adult life, she can count the number of guys she’s dated on one hand. Her six-year relationship took up a lot of her time, thank you very much.

Emma may have felt like she was punched, but at least she wasn’t actually punched. At least she didn’t have Killian and David standing behind her, taking in her insult and rearing up to punch her in the face the second she turned towards them. At least she didn’t have David holding her in her place while Killian swung his right fist straight into her jaw.

If she wasn’t so shocked by what just went down, she would’ve found it impressive to see Killian and David working together to beat up the guy who just insulted her character. Killian likely wouldn’t have been able to grab Walsh and hold him in place with his left hand while his right hand swung into his face, but with David there, he was able to deliver a firm hit that must’ve made Walsh dizzy.

“Get the fuck out of our apartment,” Killian hisses, practically spitting in Walsh’s face while he holds his collar with his right hand. Then, Killian shoves Walsh to the ground outside the door and David slams it shut.

“Alright, Swan?” Killian’s blue eyes are on her, along with everyone else’s. She nods and slowly turns around and walks back to the couch.

“Emma…” Ruby starts, but she’s clearly not sure where to go from here. Neither is Emma. What the hell just happened?

“I’m fine. I just- I need another drink,” she says pleadingly, eyes on Killian’s. His brows tighten together in concern, but he nods softly, making his way over towards the kitchen.

Emma sits on the couch and draws her own brows together, trying to comprehend what just happened. Walsh busted in and started accusing her of making stuff up, or, at least, that’s how she interpreted things. She was already heated, so having him come at her like that must have just set her off. Did she really have to scream at him like that?

Then she remembers what he said to her, what he called her. Emma has been dating a bit more lately, trying to get over Neal, but she certainly wouldn’t classify herself as a slut, and she definitely wouldn’t say she’s been sleeping around. Walsh just said that because he wanted a relationship and she didn’t… right?

Then she thinks about what happened after he called her a slut. Everything happened so quickly that she’s not even sure if she remembers it correctly. As soon as Walsh said it, he turned around, as if he wanted to insult her and then promptly leave. However, Killian had just walked out from the other room, and David was the one who opened the door when he first arrived, so the two of them were waiting for him when he turned around. The second they saw his face, it seemed like the pounced. It was almost as if the two of them had rehearsed David holding Walsh in place and Killian hitting him square in the jaw. It wasn’t hard enough to knock him unconscious, but it was definitely a hard hit.

Then, Emma’s thinking about Killian’s knuckles and how they must be starting to ache, so she stands abruptly, stumbles a bit, and makes her way into the kitchen. She’s certain that at least David and Ruby are watching her, but she doesn’t care.

“I was on my way back out, love,” Killian says when she reaches the kitchen area. She nods, her eyebrows still screwed up in concern and confusion. “Would you like your drink here?” She nods again.

“Okay?” She’s looking him in the eye and then glancing down at his hand and pointing at it.

He chuckles softly, “are you asking if I’m okay, or are you saying okay to drinking out here?”

“You,” is all she can say back, eyes still fixed on his reddening knuckles. It’s as if she’s completely unable to focus on anything else.

“I’m fine, Swan. You should see the other guy,” he jokes with a cocky smile, but his eyes soften when her expression remains unchanged. She steps forward towards him, stumbles past his body, and heads towards the freezer, pulling out a box of popsicles. She thrusts the box towards him and nods her head. “Swan, really, I’m okay.”

“You need to ice it,” she says, pushing the box towards him again. She thinks this action through and ends up opening the box and taking one out before forcing him to take it from her. “You only have one good hand left, take care of it.”

His face falls slightly at the comment, and she immediately regrets saying it, but he takes the box from her anyway.

“I’m sorry,” she says, suddenly feeling a wave a guilt that’s likely to drown her, tears pricking her eyes. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way, I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head and walks towards her, steadying her wavering body with his arms and drawing her into an embrace. “It’s alright love, I’m not mad. Everything’s alright.”

She feels like crying, she thinks she is crying, in fact, but she can’t hardly focus on that anymore. Not when she’s also focused on the way Killian smells like the ocean and the way that the smell mixes with the scent of leather lingering on his tight black Henley. He’s squeezing her in a way that makes her almost forget the weirdly terrible turn the night took.

“I’m sorry,” she says again, although she’s not sure why.

“Don’t apologize, you didn’t do anything. I’m sorry he was such a dick to you.”

She shakes her head against his chest and continues to breathe deeply, warding off tears without even meaning to.

Suddenly, as they stand there with him holding her so tenderly, her thoughts draw back to where they were only minutes ago, and she feels that familiar sensation in the pit of her stomach. She moves from him, his embrace loosening, and drunkenly looks up at him with sadness stuck in her eyes. “You didn’t want to kiss me,” she states.

He hums lightly, sighing and nodding his head. “Perhaps we can talk about that tomorrow.”

“No,” she says, “I want to talk now. I won’t want to talk tomorrow.” What she means is, she won’t have the balls to talk about it tomorrow, without excessive liquid courage.

“I didn’t want to kiss you,” he confirms. “I didn’t want to make you kiss me because I thought you would feel bad about it afterwards. What with Walsh and everything,” he trails off. He clearly thought that they were in a better place than they were.

“Walsh is gone,” she says without thinking. “He was gonna be gone soon anyway.”

“Aye, love, I know that now. But I also,” he cuts himself off, sighing and pulling on his bottom lip with his right hand in a way that threatens to drive her insane. His left arm is still slung over her shoulders, but they’ve separated a bit. “I didn’t want to kiss you because of some game you were playing while you were drunk.”

“Oh,” she says, considering this. Perhaps her suspicions about her being too drunk to be kissable were accurate.

“What I mean is, if I were to kiss you, I’d want it to be more special than it would have been behind the Iron Curtain.”

“Oh.”

“Emma?” Ruby rounds the corner before Emma can comprehend what Killian said. “Are you okay, honey? Why are you holding a popsicle?”

She looks down at the melty mess within the white packaging. Killian chuckles and tosses it in the trash, then moves to put the box back in the freezer. While he’s in there, searching for room even though it was just pulled out, she leaves the kitchen and heads straight for the bathroom.

She feels slightly better now that she’s walking and not being suffocated by Killian’s muscular chest and intoxicating scent. At the same time, however, she also feels cold and alone.

She notes that it’s now completely quiet in the living room, as if the party died the second Walsh walked in. She feels guilty about being the root of the problem tonight, but honestly can’t really spend much time thinking about it.

Once she makes it to the bathroom, she gets her cleanser and removes her makeup, then puts on her moisturizer. Throughout her adult life, if there was one thing she was good at, it was drunkenly taking off her makeup and completing her skincare routine.

Once she gets to bed, she finds her thoughts migrating back to Killian. She thinks about the way his face tightened and his arm muscles rippled when he swung and hit Walsh. She thinks about the way his kind eyes stared at her and only her afterwards, as if he needed to make sure she was okay. She thinks about the way he smelled and how his soft warm chest felt against her face while he held her.

Then, she thinks about what he said. If I were to kiss you, I’d want it to be more special than it would have been behind the Iron Curtain. What the hell does that mean?

She would genuinely be lying to herself if she said she hadn’t thought about how it would feel to kiss him. His lips are luscious, anyone would have to admit it. And he’s always doing that thing where he pinches them between his fingers or runs his tongue along the bottom one. If it was anyone else, someone she didn’t live with and someone who wasn’t her brother’s best friend, she probably would have jumped on the opportunity to sleep with him months ago.

But thinking that he’s physically attractive and actually having feelings for him are completely different things. And lately, despite her constant annoyance, she also has feelings of longing and happiness whenever she sees him. Him saying that he would want their shared moment to be special is only adding fuel to the fire of him being crush-worthy. Her feeling rejected by him saying he didn’t want to kiss her also made her feel foolish for ever thinking that she didn’t have a crush on him.

The lights are off and she’s under her blankets, but she hears her door creak open and sees light flooding in the crack. She’s sure Ruby went home by now, so she’s not sure who would be breaking into her room. Rather than dealing with it, she pretends to be asleep until the culprit leaves. Once they do and she hears the door close tight, she rolls over and looks to her bedside table to see that whoever it was left some Advil and cold water for her, and grins, knowing it must have been Killian who dropped it off.

She’s fucked.

#captain swan #cs ff #cs ff au #fanfic #captain swan fanfic #killian jones #emma swan #modern au #once upon a time #ouat #new girl #mhyh #my writing #my hands your hands #my hands your hands ff

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neptunesnxpple · 4 years

Text

Adopted by the League Part 7 (Shigaraki x male!reader)

****Minors Do Not Interact****

Summary of the Series: You move to a new country- only to find out the apartment you moved into is the home base of a league you don’t even know about! This is sort of a found family situation where reader takes care the league.

Warnings/Tags for this Part: reader is a man or masc identifying, new years celebrations, alcohol, reader and shigaraki get extremely drunk, kissing, going to bed together

Part 1 ;; Part 2 ;; Part 3 ;; Part 4 ;; Part 5 ;; Part 6 ;; Part 7

New years eves you were passing out the glasses, mugs, and any other drinking apparatus you had stored away in the kitchen. You really hadn’t planned to have this many people over at any given time, but well, that hadn’t exactly gone according to plan. A month and a half ago you moved to Japan, got a small one bedroom apartment in a lower income area, and started work at a local market before being transferred to their café department. Unfortunately, your apartment wasn’t really that vacant- at least not after the first few days. Then, part of a league moved in. Without anywhere else to go, you didn’t feel all that great about kicking out six or so people even though technically the apartment was in your name. Now you shared the bathroom with a minimum of six other on any given day, kitchen space, living room, at least your bedroom was limited to one other person- the leader of the league, Shigaraki.

Now you weren’t always the drinking type, usually sparingly if so, a glass here a glass there, but this was new years eve and you had a couple of conversation topics you wanted to get off your chest so to speak. You had already pre-gamed at a bar after work, gotten a drink or two, before heading back home with the left-over pastries- the café was closed on New Years Day and they weren’t a fan of keeping food around past the 24 hour mark. It was only two hours until the count down, you had laid out the pastry spread, Toga and Twice had worked together to pick up a couple of osechi-ryori for the group, Compress, Magne, and Spinner had put up decorations, and Dabi and Shigaraki were in charge of the alcohol, although you had a hard time imagining them working together. Shigaraki had gotten the others to bring the television out of the bedroom and into the living room where you could watch some kind of count down leading to a fireworks display. You hummed anxiously, finger tapping the edge of your glass and foot jittering. Shigaraki made his way over, pushing his hood down and taking your glass, drinking what was left in it, before capping it off again.

“What’s got you so amped up?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all. Why do you ask?” you accepted the glass, bringing it to your lips and not even pretending to look his way. You stared blankly at the tv screen,

“You’re standing out here in the kitchen while everyone else is in the living room, and I’ve seen how many glasses you’ve downed so far. I’m pretty sure your eye keeps twitching, not like I’m looking or anything,” he muttered the second part of that, now fixated on his own mug. You looked over from where you were leaning. He looked soft. The front part of his hair was tied back, and you knew it wasn’t from his own doing. But it looked nice all the same. Seeing that much of his face. The skin around his neck wasn’t as crusted or peeling like it had been. There were still nicks, the excessive scratching and picking a hard habit to break, but it was nice to see some change.

“I’ve got a lot on my mind,” you answered shortly, careful to not appear curt, “I’m glad you all were able to take off,” you said, changing the subject and watching the slight tense in his shoulders at the mention of work. Now it was his turn to feel uncomfortable. He wrinkled his lips, pressing them together for a moment,

“Yeah, we had some plans but decided to hold off on them. At least until after the holidays.”

“I didn’t take you for the celebratory type.”

“I- We wanted your first New Years in Japan to be with friends. As a thank you, for letting us all stay with you,” he blurted out, rushing through the words. You could tell the wine was working, his face was flush and he wouldn’t normally be so transparent about these types of these.

“You don’t have to be so worried about this kind of thing, I would have been fine,” you moved a hand to your cheek, rubbing it as if to make sure this moment was real enough. “Thank you, though.” You let the sound of friends talking and the news caster reporting take over for the time being. Shigaraki had given you a great transition to something you had wanted to bring up. You heart began to beat harder in your chest, swallowing dryly, “there’s something I wanted to talk to you about. Well, a couple of things. I’ve got a lot of things to talk to you about tonight, but I’m not really sure which I want to do first, they’re not exactly… easy to talk about,” you turned fully to face him, both hands on the stem of your glass and nervously tracing it. You glanced up at him briefly, enough to catch the panic on his face. “N-nothing too bad. Well, one of them isn’t that good objectively, but the other is, or could be good,” you rattled on, sensing that this was actually making him more nervy or at least as uncomfortable as you were. You had a feeling you were losing him if you didn’t pick up the pace.

“I’m, I,” you stuttered, stepping back for a moment to take a deep breath, “I really like all of you, and this past month and a half have been some of the best times of my life already, but, it’s really cramped in here. It’s kind of hard getting ready for work when there’s people sleeping all over the living room, and the bathroom is really tough to figure out. I bring a spare travel case with a tooth brush and tooth paste just in case I can’t get in before work. I don’t want to rush you all out, but I think I could use a bit of personal space from time to time. We could still hang out of course! I wouldn’t mind sleepovers every now and then. Have you had any luck, searching for a new base?” you all but pleaded, tongue feeling thick and heavy. You took a moment between heavy breaths to see how Shigaraki was taking it, worry clear in your brow. The answer was not well. His lips turned up into what could best be called a grimace, taking a half empty bottle of booze and stalking off towards the a particularly dark corner of the room, barking at Spinner to hop off the bean bag chair and flopping in it, loose strands of hair falling in his face. Your hands continued to shake, bringing you to the realization that they were shaking in the first place. You leaned back against the counter, shock and horror filling every muscle and bone in your body. You had just ruined everything. You set your glass down, grabbing the bottle of wine you had been sipping out of and deciding to make the process much quicker. The next thing you knew, a familiar shadow drew near,

“Rough night?” Dabi asked, pointing to the bottle. Your hand squeezed the neck of it tighter, shrugging,

“I’m not sharing,” you joked, voice falling flat,

“Relax, I don’t drink wine. Reminds me of people I’d rather not think about. So, what’d you say to get him so riled up? Did you tell him you’d have to reschedule the wedding? You know he’d prefer something in the fall.”

“Shut up,” you snorted, smiling and giving him a shove.

“See? That wasn’t so hard was it? Now you’ve got me in the perfect spot between tipsy and drunk, which means if you want to spill your guts about anything without anyone else knowing, nows your chance,” he offered, picking through the assorted pastries until he came across a chocolate stuffed croissant.

“I think I said something stupid. Something that messed everything up,” you sighed heavily, that weight being applied directly to your shoulders.

“I’m sure it couldn’t be that bad.”

“I asked him when you guys were thinking of moving out,” you forced out, feeling ashamed immediately, “I didn’t even mean it that way, it’s just…”

“Relax. I know we’re a lot to handle, I mean Spinner just learned to pick up after his sheds not too long ago, there’s no way you should be expected to deal with seven other peoples craziness on top of your own.”

You perked up a little, setting the bottle back on the countertop.

“I mean, you didn’t really think it was customary to let strangers live with you while they apartment searched, right?” Dabi said between bites,

“Well, at first I did,” you admitted sheepishly,

“Then you’ve got nothing to worry about. Chances are his panties are just in a bunch because he thinks you’re kicking him out. For good.”

You tilted your head in confusion,

“I sort of am though.”

“No, I mean like from your life. He pissy because he thinks you’re trying to push him out, and he doesn’t want to admit that he’s taken too long to do anything about it, unless there’s something you’re keeping from us?”

“Taken to long to do anything?” You paled, nausea coming back to you.

“Yeah, he’s been trying to make a move since you let us move in here but has been too chicken shit to do anything. It’s embarrassing, really.”

You looked over past Dabi, seeing a sulking Shigaraki that looked like he was locked in a conversation with Toga, Twice, Spinner, and Magne that he’d prefer not to be in.

“Alright, advice time over, you don’t have to leave but don’t talk to me,” Dabi shooed you away, making his way down the buffet line. You stuck around in the corner for some time longer, lost in thought as you planned your next move. There was an hour left for midnight, more than enough time for you to work up some courage and practice what you wanted to say.

Thirty minutes remained. You were back to your glass mode, keeping the liquid confidence going as your body felt warm, light, like you were made of all things sparkly just like the liquid in your hand. You were aware that you were a bit clumsier, bumping into the corner of the couch and taking a second to balance yourself out, slowly, slowly inching your way closer to Shigaraki. The energy had simmered out since an hour and a half ago, almost everyone was trapped in their own conversations. You guest starred in a few on your way over, buying time but also enjoying yourself. You had really grown quite fond of everyone in such a short amount of time. Ten minutes to go and you had only a couple more feet to go, your speed dramatically reduced, both anticipating and dreading the eventual meet up. Shigaraki was still in the bean bag chair, and while you made a point not to check out the situation, you were sure he was just as grumpy as before. Five minutes left and you arrived, drunk, and feeling absolutely wiggly. You felt like a worm on the string being pulled around, and you wouldn’t lie, you could feel the smile pull on the corners of your lips. You knew something he didn’t know that you knew. You went to sit in the space next to him, miscalculating and ending up partially in his lap, throwing and arm around his shoulder and sipping your drink, kicking your feet a little. This was fun. It pleased you even more when Shigaraki didn’t try to push you off. At least not right away.

“What are you doing?”

“Hanging out. What are you doing?” you asked, a knowing grin rising to your face. He raised an eyebrow, eyes fixed to you. You could feel it, his breath was a little more labored, he was just as drunk as you.

“Hanging out.” He repeated. He adjusted, moving an arm behind you, “I don’t want my drink to spill,” he explained. You looked at the countdown on the screen. Two minutes.

“I know something you don’t know,” you started, mischevious glint in your eye. You leaned toward Shigaraki, speaking just to him, “Something you don’t know that I know. I found something out.” You whispered, inching closer. Your hand brushed the back of his neck, feeling how warm it was and the sweat that beaded along the jackets’ edge.

“Oh? And what did you find out?” he lowered his drink, resting his free hand on one of your calves,

“Something about you. Something fun,” you did the same, setting down the glass and poking his chest with your fingers. You twirled the drawstring of his hoodie. One minute left. You felt his breathing grow ragged, face flushed and not looking away. You watched the timer on the tv.

“Something fun…” he repeated, trying to coax you along after some time. You nodded, resting your cheek on his shoulder and talking quieter now,

“Something we have in common,” your eyes, half lidded and having trouble keeping them open, stayed glued to the clock. Sitting down had caused a wave of wooziness to wash over you, enjoying the way the room spun slowly. You felt his arm wrap around tighter, finally it was time. You sat upright, staring with wide, wide eyes as you heard your friends chant along.

Ten

Nine

Eight

Seven

Six

Five

Four

Three

Two

One!

You turned to Shigaraki, the cheerful shouts of your friends as they celebrated became background noise. You bravely took the leap forward, pressing your lips to Shigarakis’, feeling both of your bodies tense before he tightened his grip even more, both arms around you now and pulling you closer. You both let out a breath sigh of relief, foreheads touching,

“I found out that you like me. I mean, like like me,” you teased, eyes closed. Eyes closed felt nice. You felt yourself melt into Shigaraki, feeling more like liquid and less like solid mass. Shigaraki adjusted underneath of you, hand rubbing your back and pressing his lips to the top of your head. Your hands kept busy with his hoodie, twirling the draw strings and feeling the soft fabric, “which means you have to carry me to bed,” you joked, doubting that someone as scrawny as him could carry you too far. Or at all.

“Alright,” Shigaraki slipped on arm under your leg, the other remaining wrapped around your back. He shifted in the overly amenable bean bag chair, pressing his feet firmly pressed to the ground, and putting as much force into standing as possible. He shot up, swaying clumsily with you in his arms. Your eyes snapped open, throwing your arms around his neck and holding on tight. Shigaraki continued to sway until his back was propped up against the wall. He adjusting you more, tossing you up higher on his shoulder for better grip and with a lot of swaying and stumbling from side to side, he got you in your shared bedroom, dropping you on the bed and flopping down on the blanket nest beside you. You rolled on your side to face him, pulling on of the warmer blankets around you and eyes drooping shut. “I thought about what you said.”

“Hn?” you sleepily responded, shuffling closer to him.

“I was talking with some of the league, and we agreed we need a bigger apartment. You can have your own room, if you want,” Shigaraki said softly.

“My own room,” you repeated, smile creeping onto your face, “with you all. In a bigger apartment.” That sounded nice. You’d figure out logistics later, but for now you’d enjoy the idea, the fantasy, of living somewhere spacious enough for all of you.

You wouldn’t mind sharing a room with Shigaraki, wherever that room might be.

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x m!reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #shimura tenko x reader #shigaraki tomura #bnha x reader #mha x reader #requests are open for headcanons

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akwelvhi · 6 years

Text

Working Title

Working Title [6/7]

Follows this [5/7]. Alternatively, start here [1/7].

This chapter fills prompt table 003 - Failed seduction attempt, and this entire fic fills Agent!Q

"Sure you're not really drunk Quart?" the voice in his ear asked when Quart chuckled into his glass. The underaged girl next to him at the bar shot him a wary stare, the agent shot a too bright smile and wobbled a step as she edged away from him.

Quart took a deep breath, fighting the urge to roll his eyes, pretending to stare at the top row of liquor bottles decorating the club. A rock remix that was all the craze had been looped thrice now, the bass amped up high enough to vibrate the in-ears he had on. Anya chimed in that they had the intel from 007 who had managed to herd their mark into the club.

"My cover's gone, he saw me and ran for it." 007 said, tone brash with frustration. He had caught the man's gaze and was walking over to him with a charming smile. The last thing the double oh expected was for their mark to turn tail and run, recognition in his eyes.

Quart was supposed to be on standby in the club, located in the basement of an illustrious building in the heart of the city. It was also the same building that held the intel they were after, several floors above. The plan was to wait for agent 007 to hand him the items he required, after the double agent had acquired them from their mark. Quart had been ready to wait a few hours, instead, it was happening now. The item - a microSD - was still hanging from a necklace their mark wore.

"Our mark is on the dance floor, leopard print top, too many necklaces. Quart, it's up to you." The voice in his ear reported.

"Can't dance Quart?" 007 smirked from across the room, knowing the tech agent was watching him.

"I'll show you dancing." Quart muttered under his breath, mimicking a drunken sway as he stepped out to the dance floor. A new song had just started, the beats rolling out a bit slowly so Quart ducked his head and peered through his fringe which he left wild for tonight. Swinging his arms slowly in time with the beat, Quart shuffled his feet, gradually edging closer to their mark. The perfect image of a lone drunk dancer just losing himself to the beat on the dance floor. Gyrating bodies and awkward shuffling teenagers steered clear away from him and his long arms swinging a bit more wildly as the beat picked up.

Barely a minute later, Quart had managed to dance his way right next to their mark. Leopard print went shifty eyed as he spotted Quart - just as the remix dropped a sick upbeat. Seizing the chance, Quart faked a stumble and plastered himself against the man's front. With an arm looping tight around his neck, Quart leaned his chin over the man's shoulder giggling.

“Hey tiger,” Q slurred, tugging their mark closer. “Let’s dance.”

Quick deft fingers unclasped the one necklace at the same time the tech-agent gyrated against the man’s body. Or at least he tried to. Nonetheless, the man was sufficiently disgruntled enough to not notice his necklace slipping to the floor. Nor did he realise that his phone had been nicked. Quart quickly tossed it into the crowd behind the man, trusting the double agent to fetch it, as he exaggerated his fall when the man pushed him away.

"Fucking faggot!" Leopard print spat at Quart who sprawled on the floor, conveniently sitting on top of the necklace in question. 007 must have appeared in his line of sight, because the man's eyes widened before he hastily dashed off. Quart took his time drunkenly getting to his feet, necklace already pocketed, before swaying over to the toilets. Slipping to the fire exit stairwell instead, where he ascended up to the office levels.

Quart was breathing a bit heavily as he hacked the electronic keypad. It wasn't so much the physical exertion, than it was the sheer adrenaline fuelled rush at his first ever actual contact with a mark. His first ever seduction attempt. More like - a crude molestation attempt as distraction. Minor specifics, who cares as long as it got the job done.

The tech agent got the door open just as 007 arrived, not at all breathless and grinning too widely as he handed over the phone.

"Charming technique there agent Q." 007 grinned as the tech-agent glared at him. If only the double agent knew, that Quart's ‘technique’ was fortunately the sort that could work in the earlier setting. Quart would rather face the trolls and moderate gaming forums, than attempt to seduce a mark. It was the one area of his training that he lacked skills in, his instructors giving up, telling Quart to just play up on his awkwardness and pray his mark just thought him an oddity.

Quart prayed this was the last time they sent him out in the field. Perhaps his prayers would be answered by the gods he didn't quite believe in.

Or it’ll all just blow up spectacularly in his face.

He had just gone down to the firing range when the explosion rocked the building. Major Boothroyd’s new modified beretta still in his hands as he crouched and waited for the worst of the shakes to stop. The protective gear over his eyes were knocked off when he stumbled to the floor.

Sucking the dust off his finger and thumb, Quart pinched his contacts out, blinking rapidly as tears filled his eyes. He slipped his glasses on, thankfully unbroken in his jacket pocket. His own personally modified firearm at ready, as he strained through the flickering lights, already making his way towards Q-Branch.

Bodies were strewn on the floor and furniture, some motionless, some moving slowly as they coughed up dust. Q-branch looked mostly intact except for one section where a huge section of the ceiling had caved in.

“Major!” Quart yelled, skidding on the fine dust and gravel that lay thick on the flooring, more raining down from the trembling ceiling above.

A head of grey with a white lab coat was at the far corner of the room, near the ground, near some shelving units. Quart was by the body the next moment, his training kicking in, turmoil surrounded him but his heart remained steady. No pulse, there was a gaping gash at the side of his head bleeding sluggishly.

Major Boothroyd was dead.

Slumped against an opened drawer of the shelf built into the wall, the sharp edge of a protruding piece of metal and the floor beneath was covered in blood. Quart leaned in to see what had the Major been reaching for - a hidden safe, build into the wall itself - with an electronic keypad. The first of the five digit combination already keyed in.

The building trembled again ominously, structural integrity already compromised from the explosion, there was no telling if the foundations wouldn’t crumble.

Whatever was in the safe, was important enough for the Major to have rushed over to during the explosion. Quart wasn’t about to leave it behind. It was also a good thing he recognised this particular digital keypad. Five seconds to pop open the small cover, another 10 seconds to connect the wires to his phone. A few swipes later and the app Q had designed scrambled the combination and had the safe clicking open.

Loading the items into a bag he snatched from the nearest desk. Quart spend an agonising half minute checking the Major’s pulse again before going around the branch looking for survivors. Rounding them up, he led the way out of the building and into the MI5’s secured vehicles that had just arrived at the scene.

TBC in [7/7]

QB-V4 007F2018 - #26 310718

#teamqbranch #007 fest #QB-V4 #Agent Q #007 games 2018

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