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megs-mostly-past-random-fandoms · 3 years

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True Mate- part 2

Here you are! The much requested 2nd part to True Mate! *Familiar Characters are NOT mine!*

Fandom: Twilight(New Moon mostly)

Warnings: Angst! Mentions of Edward’s inner turmoil, “death”?, A little but of fluff. A bit longer than part 1.

Pairings/Characters: Edward Cullen x vampire!reader, Volturi Kings, Volturi Elite Guard, Alice Cullen, Bella Swan, The rest of the Olympic Coven.

Edward didn't notice Bella until she was practically throwing herself at him. He was waiting outside, still hidden from the sun while he waited for his mate to feed. He caught her easily and gaped. "Bella?" She hugged him close, practically clawing at his back and the nape of his neck. Her scent nearly overpowered him. It had been so long since he'd smelled it. He pulled back. "You're alive?"

"Yes. I'm alive. You don't have to do this." Edward's brows furrowed. "Do what?" Bella gestured to him. "Kill yourself. Alice told me that's what you planned on doing." It took everything in him not to chuckle. Alice must have stopped watching for his future. Either that or hadn't told Bella everything.

Before he could answer, another voice spoke up. "Cullen, the masters want to see you. Now." Demetri's red eyes swung over to Bella. Bella grabbed onto Edward's arm, nails digging into the flesh. Even if he could, he didn't have to read her mind to know she was afraid. This was going to make things that much more difficult. Alice appeared at his shoulder as well with Felix at her side.

"This isn't necessary. We'll come with you," Edward stated calmly, hoping to convey that he had no intention of disobeying. Not now. He followed after Felix and Demetri, making sure Alice was with them as well. Bella still clung to his arm. The scent was driving him insane once again. He needed to get away from her before he did something he'd regret. He listened to Alice's mind and Bella's questions, answering without really thinking. He was too busy trying to remember to hold his breath. He was saved from his thoughts, however, when their small group approached the throne room doors.

Bella didn't let go of his arm when the eyes of all three of the masters landed on them. "Look, Brothers! It seems Isabella is alive after all!" Aro cried with a gleeful clap of his hands, "I do love happy endings. They are so rare." Edward gave Aro a tight smile, but his eyes searched the room for you as he hoped Bella would finally let go before you appeared. It would not end well for Bella if she didn't.

"And Alice is here too," Aro continued. As Edward opened his mouth to ask the leaders to let Alice and Bella go, that sense of peace washed over him again. He fought back a smile when you entered the room. Your eyes met his and you graced him with an upturn of your lips. At least until you saw Bella clinging to your mate like a toddler.

Your eyes turned dark and your teeth gnashed together. In an instant, Felix was in front of you, holding you back. Bella flinched. "Oh my. Perhaps, dear Isabella, you would be kind enough to remove your hands from young Edward. You seem to be upsetting Y/N." Bella stared dumbly at him, prompting you to growl out, "Remove your hands from my mate." In your fury, Edward couldn't help but stare. You were beautiful. Glorious. Never before had Edward's inner monster been so at peace knowing there was someone who would give everything for him, even with Bella's intoxicating fragrance invading his senses.

"Mate? You aren't his mate." Edward closed his eyes at Bella's audacity. Even Alice winced a bit. She knew the difference between singers and true mates. She gently removed Bella's hands from Edward, who instantly appeared at your side, whispering soothing words in your ear. You calmed a bit, but your red eyes never left Bella. You were furious, your own inner beast threatening to claw its way out and destroy the person who dared to try and claim your mate.

"I'm afraid you're mistaken, Isabella. See, you are Edward's blood singer. Your blood calls to him. It urges him to give into his true nature. I am surprised you've survived this long. Just remembering how you smell to him…makes me thirsty," Aro stated before clearing his throat and continuing, "But Y/N is Edward's true mate. The part of him that makes him feel whole."

Bella blinked and flicked her gaze between Aro and you and Edward. You had calmed considerably with Edward at your side. Your thoughts were becoming clear again to the mind reader. "This? This is who he tried to destroy himself over? Sure, I guess she's pretty enough and her blood, oh that smells good, but she's a mouse. A mouse playing at lion." You glanced at Edward and smiled as you apologized to him in your mind. You spoke again to Felix who was still extremely close. "You can relax now, Felix. I'm fine," you said before cutting your glare back to Bella.

"I am his mate," you told her through clenched teeth as Edward ran his nose along your cheek. It was taking all his will power to stay by your side. Bella's scent mixed with yours had the monster he had hoped would stay locked away pleading to drain the human of her blood, much as it when he'd first met her.

Bella tried to argue, but the leaders weren't having it as Aro questioned what to do. Not that Edward heard much other than the dozens of thoughts invading his head. You placed a calming hand on his cheek, soothing him. Only then did Edward tune back into the conversation. "Edward, you should go." He blinked in surprise.

"My father and uncles are going to rule that Isabella must be turned or killed. I know her blood is calling to you and I would never want you to do something you're uncomfortable with. I know you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you hurt the human you've been fighting so hard to protect. So go. I'll find you after I feed." Edward nodded stiffly. He didn't want to leave your side, but he knew you were right. He would regret it if he drained Bella now. So, he followed after Bella and Alice until you were finished.

No sooner were the three alone did Bella round on Edward. "How could you do this?!" she asked, nearly shrieking at him. Alice held her arm to prevent her from getting too close to Edward. "That thing is a monster! Not your mate!" Edward growled as he used every ounce of self control not to launch himself at Bella.

"Bella, stop," Alice pleaded before turning her eyes to Edward, "This is what happened in my vision. I'm sorry, Edward. I didn't know they were your mate or we wouldn't have come." Edward arched a brow. Alice replayed her vision for him in her mind and he sighed. He understood why she had, but she hadn't needed to bring Bella.

"This is ridiculous. Edward, come back to Forks with us. You belong with your family. With me. Isn't that what you wanted? Isn't that why you came here to have them destroy you? Because of me? Well, I'm alive. You don't have to change for me. You will for that…Y/N person." The sound of your name from her lips made Edward's whole body stiffen. He didn't like the venom in her tone.

Bella attempted to come closer and put a hand on his cheek. Once more, her scent filled his senses and he backed away. "Bella, I wouldn't. Please, just listen to me. Edward isn't as in control as he usually is. To his true nature, you are a threat to his mate. If you keep pushing, it will not end well. Please."

Edward was thankful for Alice's intervention. She was at least trying. It didn't stop anything though. When the doors opened to reveal you alongside Felix and Demetri once more, Bella's hand was still outstretched toward Edward. Your eyes flickered to Edward for a brief second, assessing the situation before you sighed.

"Isabella Swan, I would suggest you stop trying my patience. I have warned you once. Do not make me tell you again. Keep your hands off my mate." Since feeding, you were in a bit more control than before, but that didn't mean you had to like it. You flashed to Edward's side, enveloping him in the serenity he needed in that moment.

"Edward, calm. The Masters have made their decision. Isabella is to be turned within a year or she will be killed. No exceptions. I will personally be going to Forks at a later date to see that their orders are followed." You cut your eyes back to Bella and Alice. "Miss Cullen, I suggest you sit between these two on your way home."

"Home?" Edward asked. You faced him again and nodded. "Yes. Home. You need to at least talk to your family about this. About us. They will understand, but it would be unfair to them to say nothing." Edward reluctantly nodded. He didn't want to be apart from you, but knew you were right.

"Come with me?" You laughed slightly but before you could reply, Bella stupidly piped up. "I don't think that's a good idea." You swung your eyes to her once more, making her shrink back a bit for once. "I-I mean, you don't want to put those innocent people at risk."

"I assure you that I am in control. However, I have duties here." Bella scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest. "Control? You nearly killed me." You arched a brow, unimpressed by her little tantrum. "Believe me, Miss Swan, if I truly wanted to kill you, you would already be dead. Now, you are testing my already limited patience. I suggest you close that obnoxious mouth of yours before I do it for you, my father's ruling be damned."

Felix and Demetri snickered, prompting Bella into a fit of anger. "See? Do you see how easily they talk about killing innocent people?! They are monsters, Edward! All of them!" Felix and Demetri stiffened but could do nothing but watch as you held Edward back. He had finally snapped.

All those months of her blood calling to him. All that time, knowing that he could absolutely drain her dry and it would be the best meal he'd ever tasted. All the days of him pushing his self-control to the limit had finally done him in. His control over the monster that resided inside him was breaking at the thought of someone insulting his mate. Even Felix wouldn't be able to hold Edward back, so it was no surprise when Edward broke free of you and had his hand around Bella's throat.

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*one year later*

Edward gripped your hand tightly as he opened the door to the house he'd once called home. To his surprise, he wasn't greeted by Carlisle, Esme, or one of his siblings. He felt you stiffen against him. "Hello," he greeted. Bella glared daggers at you, her own now topaz eyes filled with fire. Even now, though she understood the difference between singers and mates, she hated you for taking Edward.

When Edward had finally snapped that day in Volterra, it had taken you, Demetri, Felix, and Alec to pry him away from Bella. Even then, it was too late. The process had already begun. Bella was turning and there would be no stopping it this time. Alice escorted out of Volterra after the change was complete. You hadn't seen them since.

"What are you doing here?" she snapped. You arched a brow. "I've come to meet my future in-laws. Edward misses his family." She opened her mouth to protest, but Jasper appeared behind her with a rare smile on his face. Edward returned the grin and pulled his brother to him. The rest of the Cullens weren't far behind.

After greeting Edward warmly, all the topaz eyes of the Olympic Coven turned to you. Esme was the first to greet you with a smile. "This is Y/N…my mate." The rest of the family began to greet you much in the same manner they had greeted their son/brother.

Later on that night, Carlisle, Edward, and you retired to Carlisle's home office. For a moment, Carlisle said nothing and Edward did his best not to read his mind. Carlisle's eyes moved between you and Edward a few times before he finally spoke. "Are you happy? I mean…truly happy?" Edward smiled. "I am. For once, I really am. No torturous existence. I still feel the same, but happier and stronger. This was my decision. I promise." Carlisle nodded and expressed his approval. "That's all I ever wanted for you." Edward turned to you and smiled when your eyes met his newly red ones.

(a/n: I hope you like it!)

Tagging people who requested part 2: @lopezbr210 @a-bi-who-just-wants-sweaters @imdoingathingmom @kajikani @truly-insatiable @yrawn @vanteguccir

#twilight #edward cullen #edward cullen x reader #edward x reader #part 2

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liquid-luck-00 · 4 years

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Wayne Gala/Father-Daghter Dance

Bio!Dad Bruce

Day 14: Wayne Gala and Day 16: Father-Daughter Dance

Ao3 ~~~ First ~~~ Previous ~~~ Next

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Knock, knock.

"Come in" Mari called, taking a shaky breath smoothing out her gown.

She was wearing a blush straight flowing skirt. The top was a 3/4 sleeve that was covered in silver lace and stones. Her hair was in loose waves falling over her shoulders. It was held back only by a twisted braids forming a crown around her head.

"Nervous?"

"Maybe a little" she laughed turning to face her dad.

He was wearing a simple fitted black suit with golden cuff links. His tie was a soft gold with hints of a caramel brown.

"We don't have to present you if that's what is worrying you" he wore a slight frown and worry laced his voice.

She gave him a smile "That's not it. It's just... I've never done an event like this"

"Oh. Well that is an easy fix"

"How?" she tilted her head.

"It is a masquerade, after all" he had picked up her mask and set it in place on her. It was silver form to look like a swan on her right eye and it’s head resting on her temple while the other one is beautiful filigree. There were gems on it which were all A pale rose color, this one shifted from its tail to its head silver to light blush and its beak.

"Oh" she giggled.

"Besides I won't be to far and neither will Selina." she began to smile. "Your brothers may end up not letting you out of their sights" she chuckled at this. "Besides I doubt Jon will leave your side."

"Dad!" she blushed furiously and he gave her a smirk.

"See nothing to worry about. We are all here for you." he kissed her forehead and lead her into the ballroom.

---

"Okay Dick. Spill" Jason sighed already done with the night. As he walked up to his brother who was watching the entrance.

He was in a charcoal suit with a crimson shirt and black tie. He was wearing a black and silver and white rabbit half mask covered with small swirls.

"Spill what Jay" Dick answered still smiling like the cheshire cat.

Dick was in a midnight blue fitted velvet suit accented with silver that matched his tie and a Bluejay sculpted it half mask.

"You look like the cat that ate the canary and if that's not guilty enough you keep scanning the room looking for something or someone."

"I'm not" he didn't finish that sentence.

"You are and unless you don't want to see this night through you'll talk."

"Okay, okay" he conceded. "You know how I spoke about getting Mari a date for tonight"

"Yeah... Shit Dick you didn't" great now I have to fix this, maybe the replacement and demon spawn will help keep this idiot's plan from succeeding.

"Two actually" Dick was now grinning like an idiot.

"And how sure are you that either will be right for our sister?"

"Well she did give me the names herself."

Okay not what he expected. "How?"

"She mentioned she had a crush on each of them. So I contacted them and they both agreed. Funnily though they were both on the guest list already" Dick began to ramble.

"Dick" Jason called getting his brother's focus again. "You said had. What were her words and think carefully."

"It was something about 'what a mess she was around them' I think. Why?"

"Was that's past tense" he nearly face palmed.

"Ya so?"

"Past crushes not her current" he holds Dick by his shoulders nearly shaking him.

"What's your point. Oh. Oh. I messed up" Dick finally seemed to realize.

"Ya you did, now let's see if we can fix this. What are their names?"

"Luka Couffaine and Adrien Agreste"

"Let's get the other two and try and fix your meddling if we ever want our sister to speak with us again." Dick nodded and the two of them went to find the demon spawn and replacement.

---

Jon found Mari not long after he had entered the ballroom. He was in a simple royal blue suit with a light gray shirt and silver bow-tie. His had on a domino mask which was a royal blue and mimicked a starry night sky, accented with silver clock gears, emphasizing his electric blue eyes.

"You look amazing Sunbeam" she gave him a smile.

"Thank you, but I've got to say you look great too." and he returned the smile.

"Would like to dance?" she giggled and was about to take his arm when someone called out.

"Marinette" he looked towards the voice and saw a blonde in a black suit and tie with a green shirt. His mask was a dark evergreen almost black and resembled a cat with ears and golden painted markings.

"Well look what the cat dragged in." Mari mocked and hugged the boy.

"I haven't been dragged anywhere." he put on an expression of mock hurt, reminding him of Dick, "Besides if I was dragged in this suit I would be avoiding you" she laughed at that. "You must be Mari's date, name's Adrien" he extended his hand towards him.

"Jon" and they shook hands.

"Just a warning. If you hurt her, even Batman will never find the body" he switched to a serious tone, but sounded more like a joke of a threat.

"Adrien" Mari hit his arm. "he is harmless to everyone but himself."

"Hey" Adrien pouted. "Let's just find Luka so we can start messing with your brothers" he grumbled.

"I hope you know what your getting yourself into right? Because I for one do not want to be on the wrong side of any of them" Jon warned.

"Trust me. After this Dick will never meddle in my love life again." Mari deadpanned a hard edge in her eyes as she explained their plan as they searched the room for the other player in this game while avoiding the bat boys.

"There he is" Adrien announced a few minutes later. "Looks like he's with Jagged that might be a problem.." Adrien frowned, the other boy had black hair with the tips dyed teal. the was in a black suit with a smoky actual shirt and gold tie. His mask was a white cat the left eye left in a dark blue and the left eye had a dark blue lightning bolt outlined in a hot pink with an electric blue unicorn horn.

"Leave Jagged to me" Sunbeam answered confidently.

"Tim is heading towards him." he added "Wait how are you going to handle Jagged" her smirk was the only response he got.

"The question we should be asking is how is she going to shake her brother and get away from Jagged?"

---

"Hello Luka" she stated plainly as she met the small group. "Hey Jagged, Penny"

"Marinette it's Rock'in to see ya" Jagged scooped her up in a hug. While Penny gave her a smile and pat her head. Jagged was in an electric purple blazer with white slacks, and a black shirt. He had a bronze untied tie and his mask was inspired by Fang in the same bronze as his tie. Penny's dress was an off the shoulder gown fading from white to purple to black at the train. The purple and black was lifted with bronze stars. Her mask was a fade between white and purple but it was completely made with glitter.

"Mari! Finally I found you" Tim had finally made it to their group. He was in a black suit and a light gold shirt with a red bowtie. He wore a golden half mask resembling a dragon with twisted horns. Jagged's arm was still over her shoulder. "And who is this?"

"Oh sorry, introductions" she clapped her hands.

"Melody would you like me to introduce us?" Luka offered.

"No its fine... This is Tim one of my older brothers" she smiled. "Tim this is Luka Couffaine, Penny Rolling, and this is Jagged Stone ” she finished.

"Mari if Jagged is your Uncle, Dad I think that means you have a nephew now" Luka added with a small smile in his eyes.

"Blimey you’re right" Jagged let Mari go and hugged Tim not letting him get in a word. "Any other sibling I need to meet Marinette?"

"Plenty" she laughed "But you should know Tim here is a big fan." she grinned. After that statement the Rocker seemed to make it his mission to get to know Tim. While Tim seemed to starstruck to answer, that and Jagged didn’t give him an6 time to answer.

"I think Jagged broke your brother" Penny stated with a chuckle.

"Don't worry he'll be back to normal soon" she laughed "Do you mind if I steal Luka away?"

"Of course, You do have your phone?" Luka nodded at her question and they walked towards Adrien and Jon.

"Jagged is going to keep your brother busy a longtime, Melody"

"So, Tim is taken care of. Whose next Mari?" Jon asked her.

"Hm, Who would feel played if he helped us mess with the others then flipped it on them?" she smirked.

"Damian" Jon answered confused.

"Wait we are recruiting your brother to mess with your brothers" Adrien asked, she nodded her head, "Mari you're more chaotic than the black cat himself."

"He'd be so proud, so lets find Damian"

"That shouldn't be to hard" Jon responded pointing behind him, "he's heading this way."

Sure enough Damian was stalking towards their little group. He was in a dark emerald suit with a black shirt and gold bow-tie. He wore a black kitsune fox mask with gold in the ears and dark green markings.

"Tt there you are Dick and Jason have been looking for you."

"Really what a coincidence so were we"

"Let's go" he turned around took a step before turning back around "Why?"

"Let me guess Dick figured out he isn't a good Cupid and now he is trying to fix his mess?"

"Yes. Your point"

"You know these two are some of my best friends, so they told me and we decided to prank them a bit tonight, we even got Jon to help"

"Perhaps I may assist as well" she couldn't see it but she knew her brother was wearing his trademark smirk under that mask. She nodded her head. "Okay so how are we going to handle those three."

"Two" Adrien corrected.

"Who did you deal with?"

"Tim" Jon answered this time.

"How?"

"Jagged" She piped in.

"Is he in this plan?"

"No that was all Mari" Luka replied. "But you might want to steer clear of my Dad for a while." Damian nodded his understanding.

"Best that we deal with Jason next then" he planned.

"Or we can get two birds with one stone" Adrien grinned. Everyone stared at at him in shocked silence.

"Care to explain Adrien" Luka finally broke the quiet.

"A game of monkey." he answered which seemed to confuse everyone. "We tell them the name of someone in the group and then only that person is seen."

"That will drive them insane" Damian commented "Let's do it"

That was exactly what they did. Dick and Jason seemed to always be five steps behind. By the time they spotted her and made their way to her she was gone.

At one point they decided to split up but then she didn't appear for an hour. Once they regrouped the game of cat and mouse continued.

By 11:30pm they had been at this for almost 4 hours and her brothers went up to the baloney but instead of watching the floor they were sitting upstairs. This is what she took as the cue to end their game of monkey.

"Hey you two. I heard you were looking for me." she smiled as she approached.

"Mari we've been look for you for hours." Dick called

"Wasn't the Demon with you at one point or another" Jason asked tired.

"I was" Damian responded next to him.

"Why didn't you bring her over then?" Dick asked their younger brother.

"Because it wouldn't have been half as annoying for you without him." Jon appearing and answering from between her and Dick.

"What do you mean? Was this just a game to keep us running around?" Jason seemed to be catching on.

"I've got to say it went better than planned" Adrien proudly stated as he made his appearance.

"Was Tim in on it?" Dick asked resigned.

"No Jagged got to him before we began, this game of monkey" Luka grinned from his spot on the railing watch those below.

"Jagged as in Jagged stone!" now Jason was at the railing looking for his brother and the Rockstar.

"We should probably rescue him now, huh?" Mari asked aloud.

"We should" Damian answered her "Father wants as all on the stage after the New Year count."

"I'll go get him" Mari offered.

"No I'll go" Dick responded. "Tim is only there because I set him to find you." he finished.

"Yes he is, but I'm the only one who is able to get in a word with Jagged" she countered walking away.

She was able to get Tim easily and the two made their way towards the others. By then Tim seemed to normalize a bit, he was a complete zombie after Jagged, that once they reached the others he finally spoke.

"When were you going to tell us Jagged Stone was your UNCLE!" he finished in a soft shout. At that her brother began questioning her but she had placed her face in her hands and shook her head.

"Jagged is my honorary Uncle" she sighed. "Besides dealing with all of you took up so much of the night that I need to find my date and apologize" she huffed. Jon 'mysteriously' vanished during the exchange.

---

"Wait if Mari had a date why did she leave, which one of you was it?" Drake was giving Agreste and Couffaine a stare.

However the two in question began to laugh. My three older brothers shared a look and explained what had occurred this evening.

"So who is this date she went to find?" Drake finally asked a relevant question.

"I have no clue" Grayson answered and again Couffaine and Agreste were laughing.

"Okay I get why you three wouldn't guess" Agreste pointed at Grayson, Todd, and Drake "But you've been with us, how could you not tell." Agreste was grinning.

That was when the pieces fell, Kent, he practically ran through the hall his brothers not far behind. The count down had started.

They still hadn't found those two.

He spotted his sister and best friend not far from his father and the stage.

They were about to reach them.

Kent pulled his sister in close.

She raised up on her toes.

They were right next to them.

They kissed and a flash was seen over his shoulder, Grayson must have taken a photo. They pulled away and then seemed to notice them.

"How long?" Damian asked his sister.

"How long we've been dating or how long it took for you to figure out you were played?" she asked him removing her mask.

"The moment I offered to help I was played, I realize that" he answered begrudgingly.

"So how long have you been dating" Grayson asked impatiently. A smile clear on his face and amusement in his unmasked eyes.

"Not long" his father answered as he made his way towards them. "It's been about a week. Besides it's time Mini."

---

Standing on the stage was Damian next to Dick who was on my right. On my left was Selina, they Jason and finally Tim.

"Hello everyone" he began to gain everyone's

attention. "As this is a new year and new beginning I would be honored to introduce as well as reveal to you all the very talented designer MDC" Marinette walked on the stage from the right.

"Hello I am Marinette of Marinette's Designs and Creations" she smiled and spoke confidently. There was a series of polite applause and when it ended I spoke again. "I am also pleased to announce that Marinette is also my daughter." That arose some questions from the reporters in the room.

But it was Lois whose question caused the room to fall silent.

"Is she another adoptive child or biological" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"She is my child biologically, she is also the youngest of all my children. He smiled and that seemed to placate most of them.

As he and his family walked off the stage Lois and Clark were waiting with Jon.

"Mari anything you want to say?" Lois questioned her.

"Um" she looked confused and Lois gave a small laugh before showing her, her phone. It was a photo of her and Jan sharing the Midnight kiss. Mari turned bright red and as he looked at Jon who matched her blush.

"I get the first interview” she smiled as she hugged Mini.

"Okay" she smiled and returned the hug.

"Care for a dance Mini?" he asked hoping to keep the mood light. She nodded and made their way to the dance floor.

They danced together for about four songs before Jon took her and they began to dance instead.

~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:

@mochinek0 @justafanwarrior @abrx2002 @ranger-gothamite @fantasiame @moonystars14 @mochegato @bigbeautifulandfullofsugar @maribat-is-lifeblood @iglowinggemma28 @miraculous-ninja @talutah0 @vixen-uchiha @danielslilangel @witchsblackfox @pawsitivelymiraculous @lizziejay @marinettepotterandplagg @colorfulmongerpsychicranch @dast218 @sassakitty @miyla-lokidottir @lilkymilky @tazanna-blythe @tired-butterfly @lozzybowe @smolplantmum @queencommonsense @loopingtangent @chez-pezeater @paintedhope7 @technicallyburninggarden @meme991001 @wannajointhecrabcult @melicmusicmagic @trippingovermyfeet @greatcatblaze @fidget-eep @miraculouslydumb @iamablinkmarvelarmy @laurcad123 @hauntedwintersweets @fc-studios @fusser90 @madking-warqueen @buginetye @little-lady-bird @thebooki3h @iamabrownfox @galla02006 @syrencall @gimpedmercy

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red-hood-vigilante · 3 years

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more hbo spn rambles, thoughts, drabbles etc. long long post.

part 1 here

there’s some things i’ve omitted here bc others have already posted about those things, certain headcanons and characterizations and stuff. those posts are in my likes somewhere (and i’ll reblog them someday), and there’s some posts i’ve read but not liked, which i now can only vaguely remember, which is why some ideas/thoughts are similar

ALSO most of these follow the model i talked about in part one: how s1-5 will stay more or less how they are but s6-10 is changed (some things are cut out entirely, some things are tweaked and some characters + arcs are more fleshed out. more focus on sam’s trauma and post-cage adaptation to the real world as well as dean letting his rage and control issues consume him and how he’d recover and redeem himself)

as i typed these paragraphs, i realized i really have 10 seasons mapped out and ready to go. hbo hire me!!

alright go:

sam and dean get wearier as the show progresses (second half), and eventually they stop putting so much care and thought in the people they save. like...hm how do i say this, like as long as a victim/victims are saved, they don’t care about how that happens or how those people suffer potential consequences, like if the victims lose a limb or have their homes burned down because of the monster, then sam and dean don’t really care. they saved your life, now they’ll leave you with your life in potential shambles and not care because all that matters is that they saved your life, not how it is afterwards. they still care about saving that one person, but eventually it pales a little in comparison to a war between heaven and hell, being the vessels etc. ---> saving people becomes less about making sure they’re actually alright and healing from horrific events and more about just making sure they have a pulse before they move on

when angels lose their wings they are either burned off in the actual fall or ripped off of them in their vessels, which leaves pretty nasty scars on the vessel

ed and harry are so young and bright eyed about the whole hunting thing; sam and dean as kids, idolizing it, finding it exciting and intriguing when they shouldn’t. sam and dean try to get them out of the business before they too are too traumatized and desensitized to do anything but hunt. neither sam or dean will say it but they are jealous of ed and harry and their freedom to leave, and hate them for choosing this voluntarily instead of being dragged into it by tragedy

hbo spn is a slow burn. there’s a lot more shots of sam and dean in silence just sitting together after a hunt, exhausted and too tired to move yet. they’re covered in blood and guts on the side of the road after killing or covered with dirt in a graveyard after burning bones, sitting next to the fire, just watching it. the times they park the car and watch the stars? we get to see it.

dean wears rings and the amulet all the time in the beginning, for the first five seasons. the rings vary; first they’re some of john’s old ones and stuff he finds in thrift stores. then later on he begins wearing rings from people they’ve saved/haven’t saved as a keepsakes etc. when he begins his descent to the holy murderer in s6-10 he wears less and less rings. they don’t matter anymore -> symbolically shedding who he was and what mattered to him

the only accessories sam has is a rosary/cross around his neck. he has jess’ engagement ring in his pocket/wallet. after the cage he vaguely remembers why the ring was there and who jessica was (more on this further down)

the four horsemen are manifestations of different aspects of human nature at its most grotesque and strongest, can’t be killed as long as humans live. war is conflict, famine is desire, pestilence is physical and mental illnesses.

(the seven sins are like the horsemen, tulpas of human nature instead of demons)

death isn’t a concentration of an existing aspect of humans as much as it is the end of life, the antithesis of life. death the oldest of the horsemen and has existed since the beginning of any life, organism, cell and atom. the opposite of life and light, the other half of god (as i’m typing this i’m confused as to why amara was the opposite of god instead of death). death isn’t evil or good, remains 100% objective. doesn’t care for sam or dean at all, but has a begrudging respect for their stubbornness and entertainment they provide due to their flat out refusal to do as they’re told by celestial bodies when anyone else would crumble

by including death i feel like it very naturally begs questions of who decides when someone dies, when someone lives, why would death follow these guides instead of reaping whomever whenever, what happens if a life isn’t reaped at the right time etc. the reader in me adore the idea of death having a library with books and records of everyone who has ever lived and died and how they died - but then, who writes these books and why? do they decide, and if in that case, how? these questions are above my paygrade but you know what i mean? like there has to be some sort of system right, god created everything, death executes to maintain order, some third party deity writes the laws and the books. the three branches of government. ok but it’s hbo so again, i think we shouldn’t dive this deep into things, like as much as these topics intrigue me i don’t want to stray too much from the dirt road trip aesthetic

shapeshifters are extremely rare because they don’t require any kind of human blood or organs/sacrifice to live

i want more exploration of how magic is like science, like it just needs the right ingredients and right conditions. sam thinks of magic as an obscure branch of science; it just requires research and knowledge and clear intentions because science can be controlled and do a lot of good when used responsibly. dean doesn’t like it. he doesn’t trust the unpredictable elements and he’s seen enough to know it never goes well. magic is a force that can’t be controlled by anyone.

sam and dean have full on fist fights regularly. to practice and keeping each other sharp, but also because they’re siblings. they’re feral, insane and unhinged with each other and they get on each other’s nerves A LOT. it’s petty and childish and sometimes it can get a lil ugly but it becomes their way of family therapy. after a fight the next scene cuts to sam and dean with ruffled clothes, nosebleeds and swollen lips at a diner eating silently after beating each other up. either they sit in silence because they’re tired or both are harping on the other’s openings and weaknesses

sometimes they’ll fight a little dirty but they do so in different ways; dean will pull the old ‘look!’ and point to something and then tackle sam when he turns to look while sam will just cry out in fake pain which makes dean stop dead in his tracks before sam headbutts him or kicks him in the groin

we, the audience get used to these fights, they’re sometimes funny and for comic relief, sometimes for narrative purposes (like tricking a monster they’re fighting each other when they’re really not) BUT. then comes the times when sam and dean are actually fighting without holding back and we see how much they are capable of hurting each other or how heartbreaking and difficult it can be to watch when of them are incapable of fighting back/doesn’t defend himself -> swan song when dean doesn’t fight back against possessed sam, or when dean beats soulless sam unconscious

sam and dean also just verbally bully each other constantly but they do have their odd ways of expressing affection and care. they get the other person their fave snack whenever they go grocery shopping without being asked to and are the only other one they truly trust to have their back in hunts. have a cup of coffee ready before the other asks for one. brothers and each other’s best friend. nightmare duo but in a sweet way. the cooperation of ‘the usual suspects’ when they’re in different interrogation rooms but still has the cover story down to a t. code words and code names and cover stories, they know it all

when sam and dean fight together against a common enemy they’re a damn nightmare - because they know each others weaknesses and habits, they cover each other perfectly and in complete silence. they’ve been at it together since they were kids and read each other’s nonverbal cues like a picture book

to build off of what i said in part 1; the winchesters are pretty hated in the hunter’s community. even the people sam and dean frequently work with (bobby, ellen, jo, ash, rufus, bela, kevin, charlie, castiel etc) roasts them all the time and don’t hesitate with calling them out on their self-pitying crap when it get’s too much (spn was just objectively better when characters weren’t afraid of dragging sam and dean through the mud for being selfish and stupid) and this WILL persist in hbo spn. the only reason people continue working with sam and dean is because they know deep down a lot of the things that happens aren’t sam and dean’s fault - but they still blame them for it. doesn’t make it easier how sam or dean sometimes start crap on purpose to save the other

the winchesters are terrifying and people for sure tell stories about them, but not like ‘they’re heroes’, more like ‘they’re insane and dangerous. stay the fuck away from them’. some stories are true, like how they’ve worked with demons, but some are just game of telephone. (dean has apparently a ghost he is frequently possessed by while sam is actually a mutant vampire). hunters hate and are scared of the winchesters. sam and dean are never invited to hunter stuff (burials, memorials etc) but crash them nonetheless even though the hunters do NOT want them there.

you know what drives me insane when i think about it? how some characters in spn already are their hbo spn counterparts; john. mary. adam. maybe kevin?

other things that already are their hbo spn counterparts: dean throwing away the amulet right in front of sam. eyes burning when angels are seen. how ghosts are just tragedies, stuck in a loop they can’t leave. how a lot of the monsters they meet are just victims or their circumstances or the first victim of a curse. the impala being sam and dean’s home. dean not knowing how to comfort sam when he’s upset other than trying to do things for sam that usually brings dean comfort (driving the impala, listening to rock music etc). the roadhouse. heaven being an eternal version of the memories that made you the happiest even though it’s not real. sam wanting independence and freedom but never fully having it. dean fearing being alone more than anything else and that’s where he always ends up. sam has an eating disorder after the demon blood and dean has an alcohol problem he refuses to see as a problem. dean saying “i’d do it again” without an ounce of regret and pouring himself a drink when sam tells him it was fucked up to lie to him about gadreel

the demon/angel hybrid: THIS could be sooo interesting to explore. an angel and demon hybrid are you kidding me?? not to toot my own horn too much but i’m so clever. i should write this story myself. SO. does this creature have parents who fucked in their vessels or was this an experiment by god (yes i love the ‘mad scientist’ idea, that really should’ve been played up way more) or did a pre-existing creature (human or otherwise) drink demon blood and angel grace at the same time so that it created itself? so much potential for some really intriguing storytelling and character exploration - not only the creature itself and what they would be like, but also for the people around; sam, dean, castiel, jack etc. how would they react to this thing that is the very definition of defying heaven and hell and all the natural laws? does it exist before the show starts or will we see its birth?

the powers of the demon/angel hybrid would be tricky; a mix of holy and defiant, grotesque and beautiful. unconsciously forces people to tell the truth when talking to them. poisons whatever they touch. eyes of a demon, wings of an angel. can smite but skin will burn when touching iron. can do deals but will require a sacrifice in return, not a soul, usually a body part taken then and there (the hybrid eats it. it favours eyeballs and the liver - angels like raw meat). lights always flicker. makes things explode when angry (esp people and cars). can manipulate feelings, thoughts and memories. can travel to both heaven and hell, not welcome in either places. + standard stuff like telekinesis, teleportation, mind reading, super strength etc.

sam and dean’s wardrobe are pretty much the same; whatever’s cheap and not covered in blood. however, they do have stylistic differences. sam thinks graphic tees are funny, dean uses whatever’s black combined with john’s leather jacket. their wardrobe melds as they stop thinking of themselves as individuals and more of “me and my brother,”. their clothes are tattered and torn to shreds all the time. hand me downs, hand me ups. when they stray off their “path” and do things that are the crux of a storyline/character arc, this would reflect in their clothes. when sam is with ruby and becomes more and more “evil” he wears more and more red, a colour he has stated in the past he doesn’t really like. when dean is dead, sam starts to wear his rings and john’s and dean’s leather jacket. when dean decides he’s going to say yes to michael he dresses in white, when sam is dead dean takes off every piece of jewelry except the amulet. he holds it clenched in his fists when he’s whispering what comes close to a prayer

logically the amulet should have a backstory but you know what? i love that it’s hinted to be just a piece of cheap jewelry sam found in a thrift store he decided to give to dean. but narratively it should be explained so... idk. what could be logical solution as to why it would react to GOD himself? maybe god wore it once cuz he thought it was neat but he sold it for three dollars because he wanted coffee and then sam found it a week later

i would prefer it if god didn’t show up at all (absent father number one) but if he DID he’s not all powerful just a true neutral (like death, 100% objective) who created a thing that just took a life of its own, much like a parent and a child - the parent helps the child but can’t control it. the times he did intervene or tried to do something it didn’t really have any real long lasting effect so he gave up on trying a while ago.

@spneveryseason talked about this, how the storyline of sam being possessed by gadreel would be horrifying if we saw everything from sam’s perspective instead of dean’s (her fic is wonderful). in the ‘dean slowly descends into a righteous murderer to become holy’ idea i have this tracks so damn well because again, if dean believes something is right, it is right, no questions about it. everyone around him is like “that’s really fucked up and you should make amends” but dean doesn’t see any reasons for why - sam is alive isn’t he? and seeing it from sam’s pov would really underline how horrifying, dehumanizing and belittling that experience was

john and mary are adam and eve. sam and dean are cain and abel are michael and lucifer. time is a flat circle. history never stops repeating itself.

sam is the villain of s4. he is manipulated and key information is withheld from him but in the end... would it made a difference? it crossed his mind, that he could be tricked because ruby is a demon after all, but maybe he likes the power, the feeling of freedom, that he wasn’t just the baby, the one who always needs permission to do things. if he has to drain possessed people to get that power... so be it. and it’s for a good purpose, until it isn’t. he’s hungry for more, to be feared and respected. he’s enticed by lucifer’s sweet words, the potential of all that power and the idea of ruling two out of three realms. dean manages to pull him back from the brink because sam decides he doesn’t want to be what john thought he was and fail dean and himself like that.

dean is the villain in s9. he is controlling, the mark of cain without the mark. what he says goes - it’s not a democracy, it’s a dictatorship. he doesn’t see how much pain, doubt and fear he causes the people around him. if some victims or civilians die on his watch that doesn’t matter - just some collateral damage. sam can’t make dean listen to him because dean is the older one, the one who’s always called the shots. dean is the angelic one, heaven’s chosen warrior, he is untouchable and unkillable. he’s is an excellent killer, filling the void with blood and rage which is better than the crippling fear of loneliness carved into his bones. 'i butcher for love, to protect,’ he tells himself. ‘why shouldn’t i exterminate, regardless of the cost? i’ve followed the rules, i’ve always sacrificed. now i call the shots. it’s my right.’

sam’s hell trauma is never magically removed. he’s stuck with the memories and the nightmares and the occasional hallucinations. castiel can’t do anything but offers to wipe his memory completely, but sam says no, he is still doing penance.

after dean comes back from hell he starts calling himself old man and jokes a lot about he’s 40 years older now (after he’s more comfortable about speaking about hell)

when sam comes back he feels ancient (he’s over 900 years old at least but he lost count), weary, tired and so so so out of place in this world. he’s forgotten how to put gas in a car, how to drive, how to use a credit card, all the song lyrics he and dean used to yell together, the faces of people he knew before he fell, the softness of a bed, the schools he went to, most of the hunts he and dean, how john died, who mary is, the initials carved into the impala, the taste of food that isn’t raw meat. it’s so much he’s forgotten that he has to relearn. he prefers figuring things out with castiel instead of dean because castiel doesn’t silently resent him for everything he’s forgotten

sam doesn’t laugh anymore. despite dean’s many and castiel’s few awkward attempts, it’s more like quick smile and a quiet “hmm”. on some days he recoils when he sees blood and guts, on other days he’s so apathetic it’s unnerving

sam sympathizes with the brought back mary and castiel more than ever. dean tries to get sam to remember things he’s forgotten from his childhood but sam can’t connect with it anymore. he stopped being that sam a long time ago. dean doesn’t know what else to do than try to force this connection to be revitalized and he fails. sam isn’t that person anymore and this wedge in their relationship becomes a central factor in dean’s s6-10 desperation and isolation. sam is here and safe but it’s not really sam, not the sam dean grew up with

while sam has forgotten how to make coffee, he now knows everything about angels, effective torture tricks, a bunch of lore + biblical history, how to navigate hell, the most powerful and influential demons, rare and powerful spells as well as perfect enochian (he will speak enochian without realizing and it feels more natural than english). lucifer and michael were surprisingly talkative (raging about the unfairness) when taking their anger and hatred out on sam and adam and each other. sam had access to all of lucifer’s memories and knowledge for the time he was the one in control. walking library and encyclopedia of biblical lore.

he still has some muscle memory from hunting and sparring, but sam is ghostly thin and very rusty. even though he’s an expert on lore, he’s not fit to go on hunts anymore and he knows it.

sam remembers adam and swears he’ll try to get him out, but he can’t. just thinking about the cage makes him vomit. he can’t talk about it, much less go near it. after a while sam thinks it might be better to let adam stay down there than let him come back up and feel this crushing emptiness and loss of direction

sam’s trials take place in s9 instead of 8; coinciding with dean’s villain arc. for sam the trials are a chance to redeem himself again, this time for good by closing hellgates forever. they’re scrubbing him clean of the demon blood and his sins and they give him a sense of purpose again now that he can’t join hunts anymore. it doesn’t matter if he dies because of it. it would be nice with a permanent and peaceful death that did something good. dean is taken aback by sam’s devotion to repent for something that happened years ago and for something sam has already paid for a thousand times over. dean realizes how messed up he himself has become and how he’s helped put sam here, on the cusp of self sacrifice again because of sickening guilt and self hatred. dean begs sam to not complete the trials at the cost of his own life and swears he’ll better himself, be a friend and a brother, not a jailer, dictator or a murderer. ‘if you won’t give yourself or life another chance, please give me one.’ ---> s10 pacifist dean learning to let go of the control, the violent tendencies and the rage

oh wait what if gadreel still possessed sam after the trials to heal him but sam is the one who invites the angel in? he’ll keep his promise to dean about staying alive, as well as heal from the inside and have breaks from the world when he doesn’t want to be present, like he and gadreel will alternate being the one in control. he keeps it a secret from dean and helps gadreel imitate him so dean won’t notice. it’s not so bad, being possessed by this angel - sam can say no anytime and gadreel is a nice guy. since they alternate on who’s present they can access each other’s memories, which is terrifying and embarrassing at first, but since gadreel and sam have been tricked and used by lucifer and been punished for it for far too long, they understand each other. now another creature knows their trauma and terrors without the need for verbal explanation. also having an angel residing in his body makes sam feel like he can hunt properly again because gadreel can heal him and take over in situations sam’s overpowered. this could show how messed up sam has come to view himself and his body.

dean is conflicted when he finds out; sam lied but gadreel does help sam heal, sam’s traumatized and his self-worth is fucked up and dean has contributed to that. dean convinces sam to push gadreel out, that sam is still valuable, loved and a good person who shouldn’t be in a place where he views his body and mind like a property to be occupied. sam’s faith begins to come back bit by bit, not in god, but in himself, his brother, in the good things in life. they build their little family; sam, dean, castiel, the hybrids, whomever of their allies that are alive at this point.

castiel can heal sam and dean’s wounds but they are never completely gone; they leave scars and phantom pains. the brothers have SO many scars over the years. dean flaunts them to impress people because he likes the questions and the fearful admiration, the attention and the nods of approval. sam hides them.

when dean is in a bad mood or needs to get his mind off of things, sam just drops something like ‘i don’t get the deal with led zeppelin. one of the most overrated bands of all time’ and dean will go OFF every single time about the entire led zeppelin history, their discography and how they’ve shaped rock music. this will go on for hours and sam will zone out after 1 minute. but dean rants nonsensically the entire drive and it does get him to think about something else for a little bit. they stop at a motel and dean is STILL ranting while brushing his teeth. stops when going to sleep but without fail picks up where he left off the morning after and is so into it he doesn’t notice sam not paying attention at all. we could see this once in s1 when they’re searching for john, another in s3 when dean is anxious about his deal coming to an end and then again in a later season, when sam doesn’t remember to ask/doesn’t have the patience or mental capability, so they’ll sit there in tense silence, showing how much they’ve changed.

---> i can see this SO clearly in my head, how they’ll get in the car and we, the audience, will recognize the camera angle, the same lines and dean’s grumpy mood, and we’ll anticipate what comes next. but sam isn’t that kid anymore and he’s not peeking at dean to gauge what his mood is and how much of a shit eating grin he should wear when being an annoying little brother to cheer dean up. now he’s looking out the window, leaned back, they’re not looking at each other. this shot is a minute or two long, uninterrupted. dean turns on music but neither are singing along or doing anything to lighten the mood.

s1-5: sam gets hooked on demon blood, dean has an alcohol problem. when sam goes through withdrawals, dean decides to quit drinking and joins him because he wants to be supportive, and he realizes that when he drinks two beers for breakfast there’s a problem

s6-10: sam takes painkillers, anti depressants and anti psyhosis meds to numb himself from the phantom pains and reduce post-cage effects. dean started drinking again after sam jumped and still does, but started smoking in addition because he still drives a lot and doesn’t want to die in something as pathetic as a car crash.

there a scene in an episode in the first half of s8, when sam has decided to stay with dean instead of amelia, and dean has rejected benny in favor of sam, and then the brothers sit in a couch watching tv while drinking beer and neither of them look particularly happy about it - that’s how their relationship is a lot of the time. they know they’re fucked up and neither of them will ever be truly happy when the other’s around, but they owe each other so much and they don’t have to explain themselves to each other the way they do to others. they know each other so well, each other’s traumas and the things they’ve done, it feels fake and exhausting to try to be something other than the veteran hunters they are. misery loves company; they are miserable together but would be far more miserable apart and living a normal life. they do love each other, but neither of them are particularly happy as the show progresses. family is hell and so is the lack of it.

OK OK i mentioned it in part one, how i had my own very specific idea about how jack should come to be and here it is. long winded but (might just write a damn fic):

after lucifer was cast back into the cage, he is stronger than he has been in a long time (being in his true vessel helped him stretched muscles he forgot he had. and fresh air.) sam is pulled out of the cage and it leaves a rift in the magic and chains - the binding is weaker and lucifer must act fast to get out before it heals. the cage is still strong enough to hold two archangels, so lucifer has to become weaker somehow to slip out through the cracks. he can’t get out of the cage, but souls can come in. demons bring themselves and human souls as tools for lucifer to use. there’s not much he can do here - consuming them, eating them, touching them, dissecting them doesn’t give him what he wants

eventually lucifer realizes he must do like azazel and create something new of two halves, like when he created demons. he begins melding his archangel grace with a human soul. he tries with demons, but his archangel grace automatically purifies them and leaves them too weak. he must try with a human soul who is good. he finds the soul of kelly kline, who sold her soul to save a loved one. with her, the merging, works.

he has another self, a twin, a son, who’s half human and half archangel. half lucifer. the old lucifer will die but that’s ok, his desires, presence and self will live on in his new creation. the new lucifer barely makes it out of the cage, only able to due to its human side. on earth it creates a body for itself and takes shape, no longer a form of pure power and energy akin to the sun itself but now a person, reminiscent of kelly kline on earth and lucifer in heaven. they name themselves jack. jack searches for familiarity and finds it in sam, their old self’s perfect tool and another hybrid. jack finds a mentor in castiel, a younger brother and fellow angel with human elements. they do not find anything in dean, the key to his former self’s doom.

jack’s powers: their powers are like and unlike the angels because he is half archangel. jack has wings but sometimes they don’t work, or they’ll end up somewhere else entirely. their body is their own, not a vessel, so jack can’t possess people. doesn’t talk but people “know” what they’re saying or want because jack emits their emotions and thoughts to people they’re talking to like a radio tower. jack can also have this empathic connection and communication with animals. his mood affects the weather. immortal. reads minds. can remove a soul from a body and send it to heaven/hell by touching it, with practice they don’t need to touch a body.

other stuff about jack: the human/archangel nature means jack only need sleep and food once a week or so. eats only nougat and raw meat. because jack is a kid they nap a lot. levitates when sleeping. never blinks, stares intensely at everything. their eye colour changes based on their mood. eyes glow in the dark. normal humans who look at jack for too long experience memory loss, fainting spells or migraines and eye contact for more than 10 seconds give vivid hallucinations of their worst nightmares. always barefoot, often floats like 10 cm off the ground because they find it more enjoyable than walking. wears the wildest clothes they can find, nothing matches and nothing is weather appropriate

i have a very specific image of jack in my mind; they look like delirium from the sandman comics with the hair that looks like it’s underwater and the fishes floating around their head, here and here are examples. in live action this would look not good or maybe even ridiculous for sure but in animation... endless potential for angels and monsters to have super interesting designs sigh

castiel’s arc should end with him going from blind soldier, to the unwilling ruler of heaven, finding a place on earth with sam and dean, becoming closer with humanity and eventually a father of three (the hybrids).

#hbo spn #sam winchester #dean winchester #supernatural #iben spoke #ok i'm tired of looking at this now #i just needed to get these thoughts out of my head to get some peace and quiet #more character centric than part 1 #and it turned into such a long post.... jesus #i should make a separate post for post cage sam headcanons #ana if you see this i'm so sorry to drag you into this mess but i wanted to give credit where credit is due

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allicekitty13 · 3 years

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I Got What I Wanted

With only ten more days until Alice's Christmas party Jasper is at a loss for what to get her. Will his friends be of any help? Will Alice like the results?

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There were only ten more days until Alice's Christmas party, and Jasper had a problem. He'd been dating his long time crush Alice Brandon since Halloween. Having been friends with the girl for a few years now, Jasper usually had no issue selecting a Christmas gift, yet the teen was at a loss as he brainstormed this year. Somehow, every time he thought about the girl who lit up his life with her energetic and loving personality, any gift he could think up felt far too insignificant.

When Alice had agreed to a date that night, he'd stood stunned under the tree in her front yard. It was more than he'd expected, the only thing he needed. What did you get for the girl who came into your life like a whirlwind changing everything for the better? It was far too soon for an 'I love you,' but Jasper couldn't imagine his life without her.

So with the clock ticking, Jasper knocked lightly on the doorway of his twin sister's bedroom. The door already open, he peeked inside to see the tall girl, sitting in front of the mirror intently analyzing her long hair. It was a silvery grey color from the Halloween dye incident, and roots were beginning to grow out, revealing her natural honey blonde shade. The girl cast him a quick glance nodding at him in a way that indicated he should enter.

Jasper crossed the space sitting on the floor next to his twin as he leaned back against her bed. "Should I dye it again?" She asked offhandedly, playing with some loose strands. "I'm thinking blue."

"It would look cool, but dad would probably kill you." He shrugged.

"Nah, I'm the favorite." Rosalie giggled, finally turning to face him. "So, what's up?"

"I don't know what to get Alice for Christmas. Nothing I think of feels right."

"Did you look at her list?"

Being a very particular person, Alice had posted an itemized wish list to her Facebook the day after Thanksgiving. There were items in every price range ranked from most to least desired and links to order them. If anyone else had done this, it would have come off as narcissistic, but it was oddly charming coming from Alice.

"Yeah, obviously, I started there like I always do. Nothing feels right, though. Like... I feel like just picking something off a list feels so impersonal. And I... really really like her, Rose. I just want it to be perfect."

"Well," She rose from her spot sitting crosslegged in front of the mirror, crossed the room, and grabbed her purse from its place hanging from a hook by the door before turning to look at her brother. "Looks like we need to go shopping."

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Unfortunately for Jasper, there were now five days until Alice's party. The shopping trip had been a bust, at least for Jasper; Rosalie had a blast in Rue 21, leaving the mall with a satisfied grin and plenty of shopping bags. The amount of time to order something online was quickly dwindling, and he still had no idea.

This was how he found himself on The Swan's doorstep at 9:00pm on a Sunday. Charlie Swan opened the door to find a very distressed Jasper and wordlessly stepped aside, allowing the teen entrance into his home. Once inside, Jasper climbed the stairs and walked into Emmett's room without knocking, thankful to find both Bella and Emmett were already waiting.

"Dude," Emmett asked, not looking up from his game of Halo. "What was with the SOS?"

"He still hasn't gotten Alice anything for Christmas." Bella chimed in from her step-brother's armchair, where she sat tossing a baseball in the air.

"How did you know that?" Jasper asked from the doorway.

"Rosalie told me because she obviously can't tell Alice. But," Bella picked up her phone from where it rested next to her on Emmett's desk and tossed it to Jasper, who caught it despite her terrible aim. "You're in luck; I went ahead and pulled up some options she would like that aren't on her list of demands."

"It's not a list of demands, Bells." Emmett, who was still focused intently on his game, scolded his sibling.

On Bella's phone, she'd pulled up an Amazon list she'd compiled titled 'Alice.' most of the selections didn't catch his attention, but a book on fashion history that was unfortunately far outside of his price range did catch his eye. He made a mental note to mention the book to Alice's mom as he handed the phone back to Bella.

"Nothing?" She asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Nope," Jasper replied as he flopped backward onto Emmett's bed and threw an arm over his eyes. "I'm so stressed about this; it has to be perfect. The pressure is going to drive me insane."

"Pressure you're putting on yourself, dude." Emmett finally paused his game and turned to focus on his friend. "Alice loves you, man, you could get that girl a balloon, and she'd treasure the damn thing."

"I would like to do at least marginally better than a balloon," Jasper groaned. "This is hopeless; I'm overthinking it. I'll end up getting her nothing at this rate."

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Eventually, the day of the party came, Jasper was eating his words from the conversation with Emmett. He had, in fact, come up with nothing. He was sitting in Alice's living room, watching his friends have a great time. Frosty The Snowman was playing out on the TV, and the group was watching intently. Everyone except for Jasper; the teen sat with an arm wrapped around Alice, who was happily snuggled into his side with her feet extended across the couch hanging over Bella's lap. He found it near impossible to focus on the classic film; it was Christmas Eva, and as soon as the cartoon ended, the group would be saying their goodbyes.

As soon as their friends were gone, he would be expected to hand over a gift to his girlfriend. Knowing he had shown up empty-handed was causing him distress as he tried to treasure the moment, sure Alice would be so disappointed she would dump him on the spot. Maybe, he thought to himself, he should have at least picked up a balloon.

The movie ended too soon for Jasper's liking. He hung back, allowing Alice, ever the perfect hostess, to see all of her guests off. If he thought the movie ended too quickly, that was nothing compared to the short amount of time it took for Edward, the final member of their group, to head home.

"So!" Alice plopped down on the couch next to Jasper, facing him with her legs tucked beneath her body. "I see you got the movie all pulled up."

The pair had planned to watch 'Holiday Inn,' Alice's favorite Christmas movie, once it was just the two of them. Feeling quite guilty enough as it was, Jasper had gone ahead and sat up the DVD while his girlfriend was occupied.

"Is there anything you wanna tell me first?" When Jasper remained silent, she continued with a knowing grin. "Like how you didn't get me anything?"

"Wha... how did you know."

"Please," Alice giggled, launching forward to give him a hug. "You should know by now that I know everything."

"You're not mad?"

"Nope," Alice snuggled into his chest as she reached for the remote sitting on the arm of the couch. "You hate old movies, and you hate musicals. And yet, watching this tonight was your suggestion. That's your gift to me, spending time doing something I love."

"Alice, I..."

"Shut up and watch the movie, babe."

As the black and white musical's opening scenes began to play, Jasper relaxed into the moment. It might be too soon for 'I love you,' but he found himself biting back the words anyway.

#Jalice #alice cullen #Jasper Hale #Twilight #twilight fic

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ohmightydevviepuu · 4 years

Text

our little life (rounded with a sleep) / chapter 7

our little life (rounded with a sleep) chapter seven [7/12]

AO3

i know i keep joking and gushing about @profdanglaisstuff and her tendency to save stories, but reader, i promise you: i sat and stared at this chapter--at its running outline and general lack of cohesive words--for almost a month before she asked me the simple, elegant question that let all of it unfold and led to the rest of the story.

to @thisonesatellite and @katie-dub for that weekend of sprints, tea and very loud music that left my hands sore for a week as i rewrote this bit--all 5k of it-- three times in one day to get it the way i wanted it. (and then tried to make them read it all three times.)

to the @captainswanbigbang team for excessive awesomesauce.

–

chapter summary:

In which we answer the question: What’s crazier than seeing and not believing?

Emma has to make some choices. (Maybe they do make a good team.)

She couldn’t open her eyes.

Her head was pounding.

Her cheek was against something flat, cold and hard.

“There’s no need to be rash,” a voice was saying. She knew that voice. “We can discuss this.”

The floor. Emma was face-down on the floor.

“Your pretty face buys you a lot,” a woman answered, “but my time is too valuable.”

“Ooooh,” the male voice said. Hook’s voice.

And his pretty, pretty face.

“Are you going to kill me now?”

God, her head was spinning.

The woman laughed. Cora. They sounded, somehow, far away, their voices drifting around the pain in her head, settling with her on the floor.

Her wrists were cuffed, Emma realized suddenly.

“It seems more fitting to leave you here,” Cora said, “with your thirst for revenge unquenched.”

There was a pause and a grunt of pain. “You think you care for her,” Cora said, “but you know she won’t trust you.”

Emma did not hear him answer before she passed out again.

Her head was pounding.

Her cheek lay against something flat, cold and hard.

“What in the bloody hell did you think you were doing?” Hook’s voice, again--and this time, flush with emotion instead of careful and detached. He sounded closer, too, and Emma took a deep breath, trying to move, trying to wake up, to--

There was a feeling of pressure against her leg, just for a second. She started to move again; the pressure became insistent. Obediently, Emma went limp.

“I’m doing whatever it takes,” a man said in an unfamiliar voice. “Whatever it takes, Hook, to break this curse.”

“You didn’t have to do this,” Hook insisted.

“You’re one to talk,” the man said. “After everything you did to end up here?”

The silence was so sudden and so stark that Emma could almost feel it, as if it had texture. Beside her, she felt Hook go completely rigid.

“And what do you know about that?” Hook asked.

“I know the lengths you were willing to go to ensure your revenge, once upon a time,” the man said. “And I know that you’ve never followed through on your intentions. That is a mistake I will not make.”

“There was no need for you to drug or kidnap anyone,” Hook said.

“There was no need,” the man sneered, “for you to kill anyone, and yet you did. Anyway, she’s fine--aren’t you, Savior?”

Emma felt a kick against her boot, and opened her eyes. She tried, and failed, to sit up. She was cuffed, her hands behind her back, on the floor of a large living room in what seemed to be a large house. Emma rolled over and had a view of a high ceiling, and of Hook.

“Easy, love,” Hook whispered, his lips barely moving. As best she could tell, Hook was similarly restrained, and his eyes were glued on their captor.

“Not that I don’t understand why you’d want to help her,” the man said with a leer. “I’m just not sure I understand the method behind your madness.” He kicked her boot again. “Get up.”

That’s when Emma recognized him--the man in the top coat, the one who had been following her. The one she had seen outside the diner.

The one who had come at her with a knife in the alley outside The Rabbit Hole.

“It’s you,” Emma said. “Why have you been following me?”

“Because,” he said, “you, Emma Swan, are the solution to all of my problems.”

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing,” she said, “but if you hurt me--us--I swear I’ll make you regret it.”

“‘Us’,” he repeated. “Curiouser and curiouser.”

He looked at her with something approaching pity as he pulled her upright, until she was sitting next to Hook instead of sprawled on the floor. “I know what you refuse to acknowledge, Emma Swan,” he said in an exaggerated whisper, as if they were sharing a secret. He pointed at Hook and added, “Hook knows it too, don’t you, Captain?”

“Jefferson,” Hook said, his voice sharp. “What do you want?”

“You know what I want, Hook,” he said. “For the last twenty-eight years, I’ve been stuck in this house. Day after day, always the same. But she is going to help me, because she’s special.”

“You’re insane,” Emma said.

“Because I speak the truth? Perhaps you’re the one that’s mad. What’s crazier than seeing and not believing?” He looked at her with eyes that almost focused. “Unless--tell me, Savior, can you feel it in your dreams? Twined in memory’s mystic band?”

“What do you want, Jefferson?” Hook was impatient.

“I want her to get it to work,” he said. “She’s the only one who can get it to work.” He turned around and pulled something off of the desk that stood behind him: a hat. It was, Emma saw, one of many; they lined every shelf in the room.

“You want me to make a hat?” Emma said. “Because, what, you don’t have enough of them?”

“None of them work,” he said, as if that was supposed to mean something. “You have magic. Make one like this.” There was a pair of shears on the desk, and a folded piece of black fabric.

She turned to Hook. “The Mad Hatter? Seriously?”

“I hate Wonderland,” Hook said with some feeling. His eyes were still on the Hatter and he held himself tense and ready in spite of his restraints.

“My name,” the man said to Emma, “is Jefferson. And you and your friend are not leaving here until you make my hat. Until you get it to work.”

“We’re not friends,” Emma snapped, and Jefferson’s smile was slightly feral.

“I didn’t mean him,” he said, and left the room.

“He’s a portal jumper,” Hook said, his voice casual. “That’s what the hat does--it opens a portal by which one may travel to another realm.”

“Is what he’s saying even possible?”

“Aye,” he said. “It’s possible.”

“And that’s why he’s--the way he is? Because he’s been trapped in this house?”

“It’s quite difficult, Swan, living in a land where you don’t belong,” Hook said. “Knowing that--holding conflicting realities in your head--it could easily drive a man mad.”

“And he just--” Emma shrugged, shifting a bid from the movement. “He just expects me to wriggle my nose and poof, his wishes are granted?”

“No,” Hook said. “I doubt very much that is what he expects.” But Hook’s tone was contemplative.

“I’m not a genie, is what I am saying,” Emma grumbled. “Or a witch.”

He looked at her then. “I may not belong here, either, but I’ve been here for twenty-eight years,” he said. “I get things.”

Emma shrugged again, and Hook sighed.

“That’s what you’re not understanding, Swan. You are a witch--or, more precisely, you have magic. That’s what they want. They want your magic. They want you to break this curse.”

“Even Cora?” Emma asked, and Hook’s body went tense again.

“Especially Cora,” he said. “In fact--” He stopped, his lips pressed into a thin line. It was as if he wanted to say more, but felt like he couldn’t, and Emma realized Hook thought someone was watching them.

Cora.

It was Cora who had bailed him out, and Cora who had been in the house with them. Only--had she? There was no sign of her now; loathe as Emma was to admit it, even to herself, she had no idea if she had actually been conscious or if she had been dreaming.

It was not a new thought.

“Did you feel it in your dreams?”

Emma shook her head, trying to reset her focus. “So it was Cora,” she said, “who you used to work for, back in the--” Only she couldn’t say it--couldn’t make herself say the words Enchanted Forest.

“Regina,” Hook said, correcting her. “It was Regina who approached me.” His mouth twisted. “She had a job for me. She knew I was motivated. She sent me to kill her mother, whom I don’t believe you’ve had the pleasure of meeting.”

“I thought Cora was Regina’s mother,” Emma said, somewhat stupidly. “And Cora is definitely alive.”

“Aye. She gave me a better offer.” Hook sighed again. “We sailors have an old saying, Swan: ‘Any port in a storm’.”

“And you were in a storm?”

Their eyes met. “For a very long time,” he said. “When Milah died--”

Hook shifted his weight, breaking their eye contact. “‘Oft I have heard,’” he recited softly, “‘that grief softens the mind / And makes it fearful and degenerate; Think therefore on revenge and cease to weep.’”

“Right,” Emma said. “Obviously.”

“Shakespeare,” he said, smiling slightly when Emma rolled her eyes.

“Show-off,” Emma muttered, then realized something. “So who does Jefferson think you killed?”

“Perhaps he believes I succeeded in achieving Regina’s objective,” Hook said.

Emma raised her eyebrows. “You’re lying,” she said.

He shifted again. Emma had never seen him fidget before. “I’ve done a lot of unconscionable things, Swan,” he said finally. “But what I did to get here--what I did to my brother--that might be the worst.”

“To Liam?”

“Liam,” Hook said, “is not the first brother of mine to bear that name.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Emma leaned toward him, bumping her shoulder against his, and Hook opened his eyes. Surprise colored his features for an instant before another one of his masks slid into place.

“My father,” Hook said. “When I was quite young, he did something for which I could never forgive him.”

“He sold you,” Emma said, surprising him again.

“Aye,” Hook said. “And I killed him for it. In front of his young son, Liam. His son, Liam, whom he had named for my elder brother.” He sounded angry and confused, as if it had happened yesterday instead of decades ago. “I thought it was a dream--or rather, a nightmare. A spell contrived by Regina to reveal my weaknesses. You see, Swan, it should not have been possible for my father to be alive still, more than two centuries after I had seen him last.”

“I’m sensing a ‘but’ here,” Emma said.

“But all magic comes with a price,” Hook said. “Liam, it seems, was mine. When I began to Awaken, I realized who Liam was. I realized what I had done. He should not exist and yet he has lived as my brother for almost thirty years.”

“You love him,” Emma said.

Hook didn’t answer. He just--he looked at her.

“Right,” Emma said, resigned. “Well, I guess this is about the time for it.”

“The time for what?”

“The story of my life,” she said. She shrugged, feeling the weight of her restraints.

“I know a fair bit of it already,” he said.

“Yeah,” she said. “Open book--storybook--whatever.”

“No, lass,” he said, his voice very low and very soft. “You should know as well as anyone that Lost Ones recognize their own.”

It was the tone of his voice that made her decide. She straightened up, clenching her jaw. It hurt, this part, but somehow she felt like she owed him.

Like maybe she hadn’t been wrong about him.

Emma nodded to herself and said: “Neal was a thief. But he was older, and charming, and it was wonderful. Except it was all a lie, and I wound up in jail, pregnant. Alone. Lost, I guess. I put the kid--Henry--up for adoption. And I haven’t seen him since. The end.”

“Baelfire left you?” Hook’s voice was sad, but somehow unsurprised. “To take the punishment for his sins?”

Emma nodded again, her jaw still clenched. “And now, all of this happens, and you’re telling me that Neal is a part of it and that his father is fucking Rumplestiltskin and my son’s mother is the goddamn Evil Queen and I don’t even know what my life is anymore.”

She slumped a little bit, hunching her shoulders forward. Hook shifted again, and then his entire demeanor changed as he adopted an air of forced cheerfulness. “Well then,” he said, “you’ll be glad to know that I’ve recovered something of yours.”

“Something of mine?”

“You must have lost it in the abduction,” he said. None of the words made sense, but nothing about them seemed to be a lie.

“What--what is it?”

He shrugged again, and his shoulder brushed against hers, an echo of her own tentative gesture. “Your ring, of course. I know that it was a treasured gift.”

The reason that I’m still alive… This reminder that I once had a family.

They had fought about the ring--his brother’s ring, Liam’s ring--only that morning. Emma could still feel the force of his anger.

She could still feel his breath across her lips.

“And you kept it?” Emma said with a wry smile, pulling at her restraints, trying to play along.

Trying to buy time.

“A pirate,” he said, “always keeps a souvenir of his conquests, love. But perhaps ‘tis better that you know it isn’t lost. You could do with a reminder that you have people who care for you.”

“Besides Graham, I don’t think I’ve ever been a part of anything,” she whispered.

“But you could be,” Hook said, reaching for the chain that hung around his neck and pulling it off, dangling a ring in the empty space between them. “Keep this,” he said. “You could do with a reminder.”

He was lying--the words were literally false--and yet nothing about what he was saying was untrue. His voice was affectedly upbeat, but his eyes were serious and earnest.

All of her mental alarm-bells should have been ringing, and yet none of them were.

Emma suddenly understood: he still thought they were being watched.

But he wanted her to have--to know--

“You think you care for her." “But you know she won’t trust you.”

He leaned in and his breath was against her skin again; for an instant, in spite of everything, it was as if they were the only two people in the world.

Keep this. You could do with a reminder.

She understood, she--

“Our deal stands,” he whispered, the words tickling her ear. “Whatever hurts Cora helps me, Swan.” He didn’t pull back.

Emma exhaled, and nodded. But she didn’t pull back, either.

They lingered there, in the place between what was and ‘what’s next’, each bleeding over into the other’s personal space. And then--

There was a crash, and a noise, from elsewhere in the house.

“What the fuck was that?” Emma asked, hauling herself quickly to her feet and extending one of her freed hands to Hook.

He chuckled, dangling the ring from his outstretched hand.

His freed hand, with an open handcuff still hanging off of his wrist.

“Seriously?” Emma said.

But she took the ring, putting it around her neck while he sat there and waited.

“Pirate,” Hook said simply, before grasping her arm and pulling himself upright.

Emma had no idea what she expected to see as she and Hook pushed open the door between themselves and the noise--but it was not her roommate tied to a chair.

“Emma!” Mary Margaret said. “Thank goodness!” She struggled, pulling against her cuffs as Hook bent down next to her.

Tumblers, Emma thought to herself, remembering Neal Cassidy’s advice on the subject of locks. It’s all about the tumblers. She watched Hook and realized suddenly who, exactly, had taught Neal to be so adept at lock-picking.

He stayed with me for a time in Neverland.

“What is she doing here?” Emma asked, gesturing at Mary Margaret. “What are you doing here?”

“I was walking along the edge of the neighborhood,” Mary Margaret said. “Thinking about--well, you know. A man appeared out of nowhere and grabbed me. Why are you here?”

“A man appeared out of nowhere,” Emma said, “and grabbed me. Us.” She waved a hand at Hook, who nodded his head in acknowledgement. Mary Margaret extended her arms and Hook stood up, offering her his own arm for balance.

“Milady,” he said, and winked. Winked.

Emma glared. “Why is she here?”

“Snow White has been a particular focus for both Cora and Regina for as long as I’ve known either of them,” Hook said. “I imagine no other reason was necessary, especially given her recent dalliance with the prince.”

“The prince--David?”

“Aye,” Hook said. Then: “Were you injured?”

“No,” Mary Margaret said, looking from Emma to Hook and back again. “Did you just call me Snow White?” Mary Margaret lowered her voice and leaned forward. “Why does he know about David?”

Hook smirked. “I’m missing a hand, milady. Not my hearing.”

Emma snorted.

“Are you talking about the storybook?” Mary Margaret asked. “The fairy tale of Snow White and Prince Charming?”

“Aye,” Hook said again.

“I gave that to Henry Mills,” Mary Margaret said, eyeing Hook with suspicion. “Why would you know about that?” She lowered her voice again. “Why does the bartender from The Rabbit Hole know about that?”

“Hook, milady,” he said, his voice an exaggerated stage whisper. “My name is Hook. And I own the bar, as it happens.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “I--” she paused, pulling on the chain around her neck, searching for the words that would convince her friend. “I trust him.”

Lost Ones recognized their own--when she looked into his eyes, she saw herself.

“Okay,” Mary Margaret said, apparently satisfied.

“That’s it?” Emma said, surprised.

“If you trust him, Emma, that’s enough for me,” Mary Margaret said.

The tips of Hook’s ears were very slightly pink as he said, “Then we’d best be going, before our host notices our absence.”

“Who?” Mary Margaret said. “Who took us?”

“Me.” Jefferson’s voice trembled and his eyes blazed, bright and unfocused. He stood in the open doorway and did not look like a man completely in control of himself.

“I see you found your friend,” he said to Emma.

“Swan,” Hook snapped. It was a warning, and Jefferson’s face lit up.

“You’re smarter than you seem, pirate,” he said. “But I’m not her.”

“Her?” Emma said.

“Your not-friend seems to think that I am not who I say I am,” Jefferson said. The words were nonsensical, but Jefferson seemed unbothered by it. His voice pitched upward, almost in a sing-song: “Whoooo are youuu?”

“Who does he think you are?” Emma asked, trying to break the staring contest between the two men.

It didn’t work. “Cora,” Jefferson said, and the smile that stretched across his face was, if possible, even more unpleasant now. He didn’t take his eyes off of Hook. “She’s furious with you, pirate.”

Hook’s gaze flickered just for a second toward Emma as he said, quietly, “I have my reasons.”

“Reasons,” Jefferson scoffed. “Reasons are all well and good until somebody loses their head.” Jefferson pulled down the high collar of his shirt to reveal a scar that burned red and raw, as though it had been made yesterday.

Mary Margaret cried out as Emma asked, “What is that?”

“Let’s just say that Cora does not take kindly to being thwarted, Swan,” Hook said.

“Off with his head,” Jefferson added, running a finger across his throat in a slicing motion.

“And she can do that--” Emma said, pointing, “--here?”

“Oh, no,” Jefferson said, letting go of his collar. “Much as she might like to. That’s the issue with this world, you see: Everyone wants a magical solution for their problem, and everyone refuses to believe in magic.”

“Shame,” Emma said, but Jefferson missed the sarcasm.

“The Savior, though--she has magic. And she is going to help me.”

Jefferson turned to Emma as he spoke and Hook took advantage of the momentary break by rushing him, pushing him up against the wall between one breath and the next. In the space of a blink, Jefferson was pinned at the throat by Hook’s left wrist as his right hand lingered at his hip, as if Hook was grasping for a weapon.

“What have you done to Liam?” Hook snarled.

Emma was still recovering from how quickly Hook had thrown himself at Jefferson, but Jefferson was laughing.

It didn’t feel funny to Emma--or at least, not, like, ‘ha ha’ funny.

“How did you know about him?” Hook demanded. “If you’re not Cora, how do you know?”

“You know how, Hook,” Jefferson said. “All these years, and I’ve had nothing to do but watch, and I put the pieces together. I’m mad, not stupid.”

“Debatable,” Emma muttered.

Just as quickly as Hook had moved, Jefferson struck, plowing a fist into Hook’s side and causing Hook to double over in pain as a grunt escaped him.

Just like in Emma’s dream. Fucking hell.

“Stop,” she said, surprising herself. “Stop.”

Both men turned to look at her. “I’ll help you,” she said to Jefferson.

The grin stretched from one end of Jefferson’s face to the other as he gestured at Mary Margaret. “Then you can tie her back up again.”

“Emma,” Mary Margaret said. It was, somehow, both a question and a reassurance.

“All will be well,” Hook said.

“It will,” Jefferson agreed. “If Emma does what I need her to do.”

Emma backed up and placed a hand on Mary Margaret’s shoulder, easing her into the chair and pulling her wrists behind it to close the handcuffs once more.

“Hook,” Jefferson said, “you too.”

Emma looked at him. He nodded his agreement, brushing his fingers against hers as she clicked the open bracelet around the arm of Mary Margaret’s chair.

“You, Savior,” Jefferson said, walking toward the open door and ushering her through with a flourish, “follow me.”

The telescope caught her eye as she came back into the living room.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” Emma said, pointing at the instrument. “That’s how you’ve been watching all of us.”

I have eyes everywhere, Miss Swan.

“You’ve been spying,” Emma said. “Reporting back on all of us to Regina--and to Cora, haven’t you?” She walked over to the telescope, peering through the lens, and was shocked to see that it was trained on the window of her office.

Swan and Humbert.

“They killed him for a reason, you know,” Jefferson said casually.

“I don’t suppose you know what that is,” Emma said.

“I don’t concern myself much with reasons these days. All I care about is getting back to my daughter. Her name is Grace.” He said it almost as if he was reminding himself. “Here, it’s Paige. But it’s Grace. My Grace.” He was pacing.

“You just want to take Grace home,” Emma said. “You want to take her back to your world.”

“It’s the one place where we can be together,” Jefferson said, sounding desperate. “Where she’ll remember who I am.”

“Here’s the thing I don’t understand,” Emma said, keeping her voice even and conversational. “What did kidnapping Mary Margaret have to do with Grace?”

“Kidnapping--kidnapping?” Jefferson was offended. “I didn’t kidnap anybody. I was saving her. I saved her life today by bringing her here.”

“Saving her from what?”

“You know,” Jefferson said.

“How about you remind me?” Emma smiled, small and tight.

“We both know what happens to people who leave Storybrooke,” Jefferson said, running his fingers through his hair.

“I don’t think--”

“Then you shouldn’t talk,” Jefferson snapped. He was pulling at his hair, now. “The curse, it’s the curse, driving us all mad. We’re all mad here.”

“I’m certainly getting there,” Emma said.

“You must be,” he said, “or you wouldn’t be here. It’s keeping all of us trapped, in the world and yet not of it. We’re forever isolated, all of us--except for you.”

“And you really believe that? You believe that an Evil Queen cast a magic spell and sent everyone here, to a neighborhood in an ordinary city, and trapped them all in a world with no happy endings?”

“I believe six impossible things before breakfast, Savior,” Jefferson said. “And this isn’t impossible.” He pointed at the desk, the one laid out with fabric and shears. “Now fix my hat.”

Emma sat down. The shears were long and sharp, longer and sharper than any knife she’d ever seen, and it occurred to her to use them as a weapon--only her particular school of hard knocks had not included self-defense via craft supply. She made a few half-hearted attempts with the shears, cutting out shapeless blobs that frayed slightly at the edges when she pulled them.

“I know what it’s like to be separated from your kid,” Emma said, putting the shears down. “It can make you feel like you’re losing your mind.” She could still remember those first days after giving birth, chained to a bed in the prison maternity ward, torn between making herself forget any of it had ever happened and desperately trying not to imagine what her son looked like. And now she knew--he looked like Neal. All of the best parts of him in one tiny person, his hair and his eyes and his smile.

Henry had a beautiful smile.

“I’m not losing my mind,” Jefferson insisted. “I’m not crazy. My reality is just different than yours.”

Once upon a time, there was an enchanted forest, and its denizens included all of the fairy tale characters you think you know, until they found themselves in a place where all of their happy endings had been stolen. Time stopped, and everyone was trapped.

"Every story you’ve read, some version of it has actually happened.” “You’re going to bring back the happy endings. It says so in the book.”

“Maybe,” Emma said. “Maybe it is.”

Jefferson stopped pacing. “You believe?”

Emma Swan was not a believer.

Emma shrugged. “If what you say is true, that woman in the other room is my mother.” She paused, took a breath.

Her mother.

“And I want to believe that,” Emma confessed. “I want to believe that more than anything in the world.”

"You’re so much like her.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Emma said. “Maybe I need to open myself up more. Maybe--if I want magic--I have to start believing.”

Jefferson positively quivered with excitement. “Help me,” he said. “I know you can get it to work.”

Emma grasped the shears by their handles. “I can try.”

Jefferson turned around, and Emma struck. She jumped out of the chair, knocking the hat off the corner as she slashed at his back with the shears. She knocked him across the jaw with the handles and watched him fall, unconscious, to the floor.

“Son of a bitch,” she muttered, her breaths coming in gasps as she pulled the door to the hallway open again--

--to find Hook and Mary Margaret heading straight for her.

“Emma!” Mary Margaret was relieved, pulling her into a hug.

“Swan,” Hook said with a smile. “Depriving me of a dashing rescue, I see?”

“Sorry, Hook,” Emma said, and somehow, she was smiling too. “The only one who saves me is me.”

“Emma!” Mary Margaret said again. “Look out!”

Emma felt like her breath was pushed out of her body as Jefferson tackled her and they fell to the ground, taking Mary Margaret with them. The shears fell just out of Emma’s reach and she got an elbow in the face as Jefferson lunged for them, Mary Margaret pulling back on him as hard as she could.

“Hook,” Emma yelled. “How about that rescue?”

With the heel of his boot, Hook stomped on Jefferson’s wrist as he reached for the shears, and then took two steps forward to help Mary Margaret to her feet. Jefferson had Emma on her back and she could see the scar that crossed his neck again; behind him, Hook pulled something off the wall and tossed it to Mary Margaret.

Emma kneed him in the groin as she got herself off the ground, trying to haul Jefferson up with her.

“Off with his head,” Jefferson whispered, and, pulling a knife out of his coat pocket, he slashed at Emma’s face just as Mary Margaret hit him in the head with a croquet mallet. He reeled sideways, the knife still slashing, his eyes angrier than ever.

“Emma,” Mary Margaret said, “push!”

And then kicked him in the ass, sending him flying out of the window.

“Are you okay?” Mary Margaret asked, completely unfazed.

“Yeah,” Emma said, breathing heavily and clutching at a stitch in her side. “I’m fine.” She took a step toward the window and faltered, using the wall to hold herself up.

“Really?” Emma said to Hook. “You’re not going to lend me a hand?”

Eyes twinkling, he shrugged, then offered his hand.

Emma smacked him, fighting the urge to stick out her tongue. Turning to Mary Margaret, she said, “Have you been taking kickboxing classes and not telling me about it?”

Mary Margaret shook her head. “I have no idea where that came from.”

A commotion outside, and Emma heard someone--maybe several someones--heading up the stairs and shouting.

“Someone’s coming,” Emma said, trying to stand upright.

“Emma!” The voice was coming from the hallway.

Mary Margaret tilted her head. “That sounds like Henry Mills,” she said.

“EMMA!” There was worry in his voice, and Emma remembered in a flash that Henry and Liam had been sitting in the courtyard when Jefferson had done--whatever it was he’d done--to her coffee and to her. Henry must have seen what happened, and Emma felt a rush of sadness mingled with something else.

Maybe pride.

Definitely affection.

And shock--because the one thing Emma still knew for certain about Neal Cassidy was that he had never once come back for her, and yet his ten-year-old son had rushed headlong into danger without a second thought. Which, actually, was probably a bad habit for a ten-year-old to have, but they could discuss that later, over cocoa and cinnamon, and Emma was definitely going to have to add a little rum from Hook’s flask.

Just to hers, though--there was a limit on how many bad habits she could allow her ten-year-old son to have, she thought as he made it to the door and flung himself at her, as she found herself wrapping her arms around him and saying, “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

“I was so worried,” he mumbled as he stepped back. “So was Liam.”

Liam didn’t look worried so much as nervous as Hook pulled him into an embrace.

“Emma.” Mary Margaret, who was peering out the window, had a strange expression on her face.

“What’s up?” Emma said, walking back to her friend.

“He’s gone,” Mary Margaret said. “And--”

Emma stuck her head out, feeling Hook at her shoulder as if to steady her. Then she saw what had Mary Margaret so confused. “Is that--”

“The hat,” Hook said. “Aye.”

There was no sign of Jefferson anywhere.

@kmomof4 @shireness-says @stahlop @carpedzem @spartanguard @optomisticgirl @snowbellewells @captainsjedi @scientificapricot @mariakov81 @searchingwardrobes

#csrt #our little life (rounded with a sleep)#captain swan rewrite a thon #canon divergence #s1 divergence #cursed!Killian #an alternate theory of the curse

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welllpthisishappening · 4 years

Text

Welllp This is...Sports Fic

Oh hai there, internet. I hope you all are staying safe and healthy and there’s plenty of your favorite drink in your cabinets. If you, like me, miss sports, I have a vaguely shameless self-promotion for you because I have written just...a copious amount of sports-type fanfiction. Mostly Captain Swan, but I’ve started to tread into Bellarke and now arrive with this almost well-organized list.

We run the gamut here, so there’s everything from hockey to lacrosse to soccer and basketball. And, you know, if there’s something else you want to see or read about, I’m running out of features to write in the real world.

----

Tripping Over the Blue Line Rating: Mature Chapters: 40

It's a transition. That's what Emma's calling it. She's transitioning from one team to another, from one coast to another and she's definitely not worried. Nope. She's fine. Really. She's promised Mary Margaret ten times already. So she got fired. Whatever. She's fine, ready to settle into life with the New York Rangers. She's got a job to do. And she doesn't care about Killian Jones, captain of the New York Rangers. At all.

He's done. One more season and he's a free agent and he's out. It's win or nothing for Killian. He's going to win a Stanley Cup and then he's going to stop being the face of the franchise and he's going to go play for some other garbage team where his name won't be used as puns in New York Post headlines. That's the plan. And Emma Swan, director of New York Rangers community relations isn't going to change that. At all.

They are both horrible liars.

More under the cut, because seriously there’s a lot

More in the Tripping Over the Blue Line Universe

We'll Take a Cup (defense) of Kindness Rating: Mature Chapters: 2

It's one night. New Year's Eve. And a whole list of rules. Because Regina might have actually lost her mind. Or maybe that's just Emma. Because they've played a million games in two days, or it's at least felt that way, and planning an outdoor practice a few weeks before the Olympics seemed like a good idea at one point. Now it just seems insane. So she's going to wear this dress and kiss her boyfriend. A lot.

He's good. Better than good. Great. The greatest. It's New Year's Day and, yeah, sure it's freezing, but Killian hasn't actually tried to push Scarlet on the Subway tracks yet so that seems like a step in the right direction. So he's a little distracted a few weeks before the Olympics, but that's fine. It's good. Or it'll be good. Eventually. Soon. In the meantime he's probably just going to kiss his girlfriend. A lot.

The PyeongChang Triple Rating: Mature Chapters 15

It’s the Olympics. The. Olympics. And Emma’s running out of post-it notes to write schedules and plans on and there are more games and more expectations and not enough time for any of it. She’s fine. Totally. Absolutely. If she could just sleep. Or stop feeling as if her knees are going to give out every time she stands up. Or get Ruby to stop staring at her like that. It’s fine. After all Killian Jones, captain of Team USA, keeps promising it will be.

He’s going to win. Again. At the Olympics. And Killian’s not nervous. Not about that. It’s hockey. He could play hockey in his sleep. Probably. He’s never tried that. But he probably could. And, sure, there are expectations and games and schedules and barely any time for what he wants to actually be doing, but winning a Gold medal isn’t bad. After all, Emma Swan, temporary New York Rangers Olympics team social media manager, keeps promising it will be.

They’re fine. They’re going to win. Together.

Going Top Shelf Rating: Mature Chapters: 20

It's more than just one season.

It's hits and goals and being the face of the franchise and events and family and road trip facts. It's on-ice injuries and off-ice dramas and weddings and cross-country flights and shouting in the stands. It's games and holidays and traditions and athletic-based superstition.

It's life and it's not just hockey and as far as Emma and Killian are concerned, that makes it even better.

A collection of 'Tripping Over the Blue Line' one shots from before, during and after the original story.

A Biscuit in the Basket

Or: the AU of the AU where Will and Belle adopt a kid

Also Blue Line one shots are under 4K stories that only get posted to Tumblr.

OTHER HOCKEY STORIES

Whistled for Icing Canon One Shot

Elsa leaves a bit of magic in the forest just outside of Storybrooke and it’s reason enough for the town to investigate. Or start up a game of hockey.

What Used to Be Limes Rating: Teen One Shot

Killian Jones is only a little worried that he’s not going to survive his first season in the NHL. With a snarky roommate and a fridge that’s barely boasting a few limes, it’s going to be a close call. At least he’s got one thing going for him: his best friend Emma Swan.

Who he just happens to be in love with.

A Rooting Interest Rating: Teen One Shot

This is all Ruby’s fault. Emma doesn’t normally work behind the bar, but Ruby’s sick and there’s something happening at the Garden this weekend and she knows she can help.

She gets behind the bar and starts making drinks and it isn’t so bad when some guy who only wants water shows up.

Or when he leaves a pretty good tip. Two tickets to the hockey game. She assumes that’s what’s happening at the Garden.

BELLARKE HOCKEY Connecting on the Wraparound Rating: Mature Chapters: 15, WIP

Bellamy Blake is exhausted.

Sick of the game that’s been at the center of his life for as long as he can remember, and the reputation he’s garnered because of it, Bellamy is desperate to get away from the ice during the NHL All-Star break. So, without much thought to what he’s doing or why he’s doing it, Bellamy heads home, to the place he thought he could never come back to.

It’s a stupid idea, really, or so Octavia has told him seventy-six times, but then Clarke Griffin is standing in front of him and her daughter is an even better skater than Bellamy is and, all of the sudden, Arkadia seems like the most important place in the world.

-----

BASEBALL

You Play Ball Like a Girl Rating: Mature Chapters: 47

Emma Swan had a plan. Get the story. Get the byline. Up her Twitter follower count. It was simple – she was going to take over the New York City journalism world. And she was going to do it from the sideline with a credential around her neck and a pen stuffed in her hair and a fierce determination no one was going to be able to put a dent in.It was the perfect plan.That plan just failed to factor in Killian Jones.

Sliding Down the Hill Rating: General

Emma Swan's phone rings and she makes a quick, split second decision. She keeps doing that. She makes choice after choice and change after change and, suddenly, she's crying on ESPN. That's probably the last thing she expects.

Or: A not-quite a Little League World Series AU.

Back in the Swing of Things Rating: General

The Sliding Down the Hill sequel.

Safe Upon Review Rating: General One Shot

Henry won’t stop crying. And Emma can’t sleep. Or stop worrying. And it’s snowing. Of course it’s snowing. She’s not sure what she thinks Mary Margaret can do, but she’s certain she can fix it and the drive across campus should only take ten minutes and….Mary Margaret isn’t there.

It’s the anniversary of something. And Killian is in the room by himself. With a questionable amount of takeout food. And it’s snowing. Of course it’s snowing. He’s not sure when David will get back, but he’s certain it’s too early when he hears the noise in the hall and…David isn’t there.

Step Right Up and Greet the Mets Rating: General One Shot

Emma doesn’t want to go.

It’s going to be a goddamn disaster because the Mets really aren’t that great and no one on that team will give Jacob deGrom any run support and she doesn’t want Killian to freak out when he sees Mary Margaret live and in action at Citi Field. Mary Margaret is not actually playing the game.

Mary Margaret doesn’t know that.

But none of those things seem to matter and Killian agreed to the invitation and now, a few months into a relationship that sees Emma thinking all kinds of things, they’re going to Queens. Batter up, or whatever.

Start Spreading the News Rating: Teen One Shot

Emma Swan is just looking for something that’s hers. She’s fairly certain she’s found it in New York, with a group of friends and a good job and picture frames on her apartment walls. But then the past she’s spent so long trying to ignore shows up where she least expects to find it – wearing pinstripes in right field at Yankee Stadium.

More Famous Than a Yankee Can Rating: Teen One Shot

The sequel to Start Spreading the News from Killian’s POV

Batting a Thousand Rating: Teen One Shot

If asked, Emma would promise she doesn’t mean to start dating her brother’s sworn baseball enemy. But she also knows David didn’t mean to hit Killian that one time in college and, well, you can’t predict baseball.

and it’s subsequent Tumblr-only one shot sequels

Puppy Love The Yankees host an adoption event. Killian wants to adopt a puppy.

The One Where They Elope Basically what’s on the tin.

Pace of Play

She can’t believe she’s never noticed it before. Because, honestly, Emma can’t even come up with a number to try and calculate how often she’s watched Killian step into the batters box. And that’s the thing. He never really steps out, either. It’s a weird approach, but that could be the subheadline for their lives at this point and she’s mostly concerned with the power behind that swing.

A Long-Standing Rivalry Killian and David start buying the other’s kid merch for the opposing team. It’s absurd.

Hitting Against the Shift Rating: Teen One Shot

She has no idea how this works. She doesn’t know what’s a hit or what’s an error or how, exactly, to cope with the way he looks in those pants. Seriously, they’re good pants.

But when Killian showed up at her door that morning, promising “we just need someone to play, love,” Emma couldn’t figure out a reason to say no. So, here she is, playing the game on the field and off it, with half a hope and, honestly, far too many thoughts about his pants.

She’s a mess, really.

-----

LACROSSE

Playing Man Down Rating: Teen Chapters: Two

Emma’s boyfriend, ex-boyfriend, thank you very much, makes the incredibly large mistake of telling she shouldn’t want to coach at the prestigious lacrosse camp he’s working at this summer. So, she sets out to prove girls can check just as well as guys.

Even if she’s not admitting she’s a girl.

Or: a “She’s the Man” AU, but with lacrosse

Marking Up Rating: Teen One Shot

Killian had no expectations going in.

Mostly, he’s just made his teammates stole his phone. But then that leads to this and a date and Emma Swan and...she doesn’t know anything about lacrosse. He can work with that.

-----

ESPORTS

Where You Can Still Remember Dreaming Rating: Mature Chapters: 35

Killian Jones, former crime reporter, was not happy to be home. It hadn’t been home in a very long time, after all. Home was an abstract construct that existed for people who didn’t know as many adjectives for blood as he did. Home wasn’t New York City, but it certainly wasn’t Boston or New Orleans either and he’d always gone where the story was. And he was positive Emma Swan was one hell of a story.

Emma Swan, pro video game player, desperately wanted to find home. She thought she had, a million years ago in the back corner of a barn and a town and faces she trusted. But that had all blown up in her face and it didn’t take long for her to decide she was going to control the pyrotechnics from here on out. So now she was in New York City and a different corner and she kind of wanted to trust Killian Jones.

Neither one of them expected a year of of video games and feature stories to dredge up old enemies and even older feelings, but, together, they made a pretty good team.

-----

BASKETBALL

A Touch of (March) Madness Rating: Teen Chapters: Two

Emma can't quite remember how it started or why it happened, just that it did and she wants to win. Desperately. To prove something. Probably.

Or just to beat Killian. Either or. It doesn't matter.

She's picked her teams and her upsets and she's got a string of trash talk ready for any potential on-court situation. They're not playing the game, but they're playing a game and this one might change everything.

Or: The March Madness AU about questionably competitive friends and very strong college basketball opinions.

-----

SOCCER

It's a Funny Old Game Rating: Teen Chapters: Two

Killian's not sure why he agreed to this. Well, no, that's not true. He does. Because Henry asked. And, well, maybe they're some kind of family now.

Emma's not sure why she hasn't said anything. Well, no, that's not true. She does. Because she's not supposed to. And, well, things were pretty good already.

Or: A quasi Out of the Frying Pan sequel with soccer.

-----

THE OLYMPICS

Holding the Edge Rating: Teen One Shot

Killian Jones does not want the questions. He doesn't want the interviews or the spotlight or the sky-high expectations.

The world, however, does not seem to care. The world, after all, loves a good comeback story.

And Killian Jones is one heck of a comeback story. With his eyes on gold. And maybe slightly gold'ish hair and green eyes and, yeah, maybe he's got some questions of his own.

Almost Believing, This One's Not Pretend Rating: Teen Chapters: Two

They don’t grow up skating together.

They don’t even want to start skating together.

But then life happens and they kind of need each other and maybe that sentence means a lot more than either one of them are willing to admit at first. Or ever. So they keep skating and, sometimes, winning and, always, ignoring the questions. There are a lot of questions.

Because how could two people have so much chemistry on the ice when they’re just partners?

-----

BOXING

Pulling Your Punches Rating: Teen One Shot

It’s not meant to be a secret relationship. But Emma can’t help that her and Killian’s friends are incredibly unobservant. And then it becomes something of a game, waiting to see how long they notice. Until Killian gets hurt. Emma can’t help anything after that.

#cs ff #captain swan #bellarke ff #listen the sports #i like them #seriously i hope you guys are all staying healthy!#here's a lot of kissing too #as if you'd expect anything else from me really

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let-it-raines · 4 years

Text

Catch Me If You Can (26/40)

298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch.

But then he came back and won the World Series.

It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now.

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

a/n: So you guys had some pretty big feelings about the last chapter. (I love it.) I think you might also have some about the next few. 🙈❤️

AO3: Beginning | Current

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Tag list: @stunningswan @eala-captian @galaxyzxstark @xellewoods @mariakov81 @ultraluckycatnd @royalswan @shey-starsfury @superchocovian @sals86 @iam2307 @ashley-knightingale @karenfrommisthaven @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @notoriouscs @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog@cs-forlife @andiirivera @jonirobinson64 @qualitycoffeethings

-/-

Liam has been yelling at him for thirty-two minutes and seventeen seconds.

That might be a little off, his timing incorrect since he didn’t start counting until it’d been going on for quite a few minutes, and he’s only been counting with his head. He doesn’t have a watch on, has no idea where his phone currently is except probably in the locker room, and counting in his head is the only way he’s able to keep track.

The clock on Elsa’s wall is dead. That seems apt.

Counting is very literally the only thing that is keeping him sane right now. It’s also distracting him from the throbbing pain that’s emanating from his shoulder every time he so much as flinches or shifts in the wrong direction.

Killian has felt like an idiot more times than he can count – ironic with how much he’s counting right now, he knows – but he thinks that ignoring his shoulder, ignoring the pain, ignoring the signs, and ignoring every other little thing over the past few months has been the dumbest thing he’s ever done.

This could fuck up his entire career, again, and he ignored it for the idiotic hope that things would simply get better on their own.

Things have obviously not gotten better on their own, and he was pretty much carted off of the field and out of the stadium to the hospital so that he could have an MRI and an X-ray done only to find out that he has tendinitis in the rotator cuff that was injured in the boating accident and already had to have surgery to repair it once before.

Liam is currently yelling at him because he made a joke about how at least it was only tendinitis and not another full tear that would require surgery and being out of the game completely for ten months.

Just four to six weeks this time.

That’s nothing, right?

Except the playoffs start in four weeks, and while he can’t remember the rules of eligibility right off the top of his head since this is something he’s never had to deal with before, he thinks that as long as he doesn’t miss the entire post-season, he could still play in the World Series.

If they make it that far.

Shit.

This is not good.

And his hopes for the World Series really shouldn’t be what’s going on in his head right now when he has another arm injury, which is another derailment for his career.

(He’s only twenty-eight years old. It shouldn’t be like this.)

But focusing on this one thing that he wanted, that he wants, for himself and for his team, is inexplicably both driving him into madness and keeping him sane all at once.

“How could you let all of the signs pass you by, Killian?” Liam huffs, his loafers likely going to run a hole in the linoleum floor of the hospital with how much he’s pacing. “Do you not remember what happened the last time you got injured? The lows that you went through? That’s happening again. You finally got to be happy, got to have things going right for you, and you screwed it up because you didn’t want to admit that there is something wrong with you? How fucking dumb can you be?”

“Liam,” Elsa admonishes from her spot in her office where they’ve all gathered now that he’s been released from all of his tests. It’s kind of feeling like a prison in here. “Now is really not the time to yell at him.”

“I think it’s a pretty damn good time.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Killian groans, twisting in Elsa’s office chair to look at his brother. His arm is throbbing, his medicine not quite taking effect yet but the ice pack helping a bit, and that’s all probably not helping with his level of agitation. “I am twenty-eight years old. I do not need you to yell at me like I am one of your children. ObviouslyObviously, I know that I fucked up. The insane amount of ice on my shoulder that’s pretty much going to stay there for the next month as I sit on my ass proves it.”

“All of this could have been solved if you’d come to a doctor. I’m a doctor. Elsa works in a hospital. You have fantastic health insurance. It’s not…the solution was right there. You should have told Archie too!”

“Liam,” Elsa scolds again, and his brother’s head snaps toward his wife.

“What? What could you possibly have to say? He screwed up.”

“No, you screwed up when you started yelling at him like he’s a child. But certainly not your child when there’s no way in hell you would speak to Addison or Lucy this way. Killian gets it. You can see it written over his face, and if you can’t tell that he didn’t say anything because he was scared of finding out something was going to be wrong with him again, I don’t know what to tell you. Is it dumb? Yes. But you see it happen with patients every single day. People get scared, and the confirmation makes injuries and diseases real for them.”

Damn, Elsa Jones.

“Elsa,” Killian sighs, “thank – ”

“No,” she starts, holding up her hand at him, her voice full of emotion. “Just because I understand you and am defending you doesn’t mean I’m not still mad at you. I’m not going to yell at you like your brother, though.”

Elsa wipes at the few tears that have fallen underneath her eyes, and before Killian can even get up to give her a hug and tell her just how much he loves her, Liam is crossing the room and wrapping her up in his embrace so that his frame dwarfs hers for a few seconds while Killian continues to get to sulk and loathe himself for doing this.

It’s all his fault.

There’s no other way around it. That’s the truth, and there’s no changing it.

What the hell is he going to do? And is this going to keep coming back if he continues to pitch? If he does proper treatment, is it something he can monitor? Is his career really about to be cut in half? What is Al going to think when he tells him? What are any of his teammates going to think? Or the owners? All of the managers?

What about Emma?

If he’d told her all of those times he wanted to tell her, all of those times he’d meant to tell her when she caught him in pain over the past few months, she would know about his past and would most likely have had enough sense to tell him to go see a doctor since she would have a more frequent look at how he was every day than either Liam or Elsa.

But “if” doesn’t exist.

What has happened, happened. There’s no changing that.

But if he could…no, nope. No. He can’t go there. “If” doesn’t exist.

Elsa phone starts ringing on her desk, Emma’s name popping up on the screen, and Killian’s hands fumble for it so quickly that he nearly drops it onto the ground. But he doesn’t, managing to slide his finger across the phone to answer so that he can hold it up to his ear to talk.

“Hello, beautiful,” he greets and both Elsa and Liam turn to stare him down.

“Killian?” Her voice is frantic, hoarse, and he has absolutely no idea how she managed to keep on working when he’s sure that her mind was running through all of the worst-case scenarios. She’s got to be pissed at him. He deserves it. Why couldn’t he have found the time to text her before he left? Right. He doesn’t know where his phone is. “Is that you?”

“Aye, love. It’s me. I’m answering Elsa’s phone.”

“SoSo, you’re not dead then?” He opens his mouth to respond but is cut off before he even can. “Because I have pretty much convinced myself that you were dead. It doesn’t even make any sense because you obviously didn’t have something, like, dangerous happen to you while you were playing, but all I’ve known for the past threewo hours waswere that you were hurt. And then my producer walks in the booth and tells me that you’re in the hospital but doesn’t say anything else and…you weren’t answering your phone. No one was. I don’t even know which hospital you’re in. I assumed Mt. Sinai because that’s where Liam works, but I don’t – ”

“Swan,” Killian interrupts as Emma keeps babbling. “Hey, hey, Emma, love. It’s okay. I’m fine. I am at Mt. Sinai. I’ve already had some tests done on my shoulder, and I’m sitting in Elsa’s office so it’s not like I’m laid up in a hospital bed. And I don’t have my phone. It’s in the locker room somewhere, probably, so that’s why I haven’t called you. I’m sorry.”

“How long are you going to be there? Can I come see you? Or should I just go home?”

“Where are you, love?”

“Maybe ten minutes away. I don’t – I got on the subway to go to your apartment first, but then I changed my mind and got off at the one hundred and third street station realizing that you were probably not there.”

“I think you’ve got a future career as a detective if this whole broadcasting thing doesn’t work out for you.” He smiles, even though she can’t see it, and he definitely ignores that look on Elsa and Liam’s faces. He’s had enough judgment from them today even if he deserves all of it. “How’d that go, by the way?”

There’s a loud blare through the phone followed by Emma cursing, and he chuckles to himself. “Can I tell you later? People don’t know how to drive, and I’m probably going to get run over even though I have the damn right of way.”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll text you directions to her office.”

“Thank you. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Killian sighs. “I’ll see you soon.”

The call ends then, and he doesn’t even have time to digest it all before Elsa is speaking again and causing him some serious whiplash.

“What are you going to tell her when she gets here?”

He shrugs, as much as he can at least. “The truth.”

“All of it?”

That familiar sense of guilt settles in him again, pressing down on his shoulders like a ton of bricks, which really isn’t helpful right now when his shoulder is already in so much pain, but this is the situation he’s built for himself.

“What are you guys talking about?” Liam asks, and Killian has to bite his tongue. “Seriously. What?”

“Killian never told Emma about the full extent of the accident,” Elsa explains, rubbing the heels of her hands underneath her eyes. “And I’m guessing he’s been lying to her about how much his shoulder has been hurting too.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck,” Killian groans, leaning forward to press his face into the stack of papers on Elsa’s desk, but that hurts his damn shoulder. “She’s going to be so pissed at me.”

“It’s not like you lied about something that’s fundamental to your relationship, though,” Liam says, obviously missing the point because he doesn’t know Emma like Killian knows Emma. “I think she’ll just be pissed like we are.”

“No, no she won’t.” Killian He rolls back in his chair and adjusts the strap that’s holding his ice pack there. “Emma’s got a pretty shitty history with people lying to her or not trusting her with things, and she’s going to be pissed that I did this. I don’t…there’s no way around that. I love her, and I wasn’t honest about the struggles I was going through.”

“It’s going to be fine, sweetie,” Elsa promises, but his mind is already running through worst case scenarios too.

He’s already lost the game again, temporarily at least, and he’s not sure that he can lose anything else.

For years he thought that losing the game would be the only thing possibley of beating him down and having him lose the spark for life that he has. Now he knows that’s not true.

Losing the game would hurt. Losing Emma would kill him.

Killian doesn’t count the ten minutes that it takes Emma to get to the hospital. He doesn’t need to. He feels every second of them. Before he knows it, there’s a timid knock on the door, and then Emma is walking through, her cheeks red and her hair windblown with her eyes widened. She looks like she just ran here instead of taking the train, and the big exhale that she lets out when she makes eye contact with him has him feeling like maybe he ran a marathon too.

Slowly, he stands up from the chair so as not to jostle his arm, and even though he can tell that Emma is a bit hesitant with Liam and Elsa in the room, she walks toward him and wraps her arms around his stomach so that he can feel her over feeling the throbbing in his arm.

“Hey,” he whispers as he rubs his hand up and down her back while his lips press into her forehead. “I’m okay. It’s all okay, love. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“My brain still has me convinced that you’re dead, so give me a minute.”

Killian chuckles. “Okay, okay, I can do that.”

For someone who is so keen on time today, Killian has no idea how long he stands there with Emma’s face buried in his shoulder and his hand on her back. He has no idea.

It’s not long enough though.

Because then Emma is pulling back, the warmth of her body disappearing, and she’s stepping away to wipe out the wrinkles in her dress skirt before moving to hug Liam and Elsa too., almost like she didn’t even realize they were in the room at first.

“So, what happened?” Emma asks. “You said your shoulder? What’s wrong with your shoulder?”

His eyes dart from the green pair to the two sets of blue, pleading for some kind of help in answering her question.

“Liam,” Elsa starts, grabbing onto her husband’s forearm, “why don’t we let them talk? Let’s go get some coffee.”

“You guys can stay,” Emma offers, a sweet, unknowing smile on her face.

“No, it’s fine, sweetie." Elsa nods her head at him, a soft smile on her face as well. “We’ve spent enough time with Killian. We’ll let you guys have this moment. Use my phone to text Liam when you leave, okay?”

“Yeah, Els. That’s fine. I love you guys.”

“Love you too,” Liam answers for them before they’re taking the few steps to the door and walking out of it, letting the wood frame click behind them.

And then he’s left with Emma.

“So, what’s wrong?” she asks again, sitting down in the chair that Elsa has across from her desk while he takes back his seat behind Elsa’s desk. “Did you throw out your shoulder? I know you’re, like, a whole ten months older than me, but I didn’t think you were that much of an old man.”

His chuckle is weak, but he’s thankful that Emma is at least in a bit of a joking mood. Today has been such a big day for her professionally, and he hates that he’s taken away from it.

“I have tendinitis in my rotator cuff.” He’s about to spew out a hell of a lot of information at her, but he doesn’t know how else to do it. The worry etched across Emma’s face certainly doesn’t help. “It’s not a big deal. I’m going to be out for hopefully no more than six weeks as long as I don’t fuck it up again, so I should be able to come back for the Championship Series, not that it matters. I’m in a lot of pain today, but it’s not always so bad.”

“What do you mean it’s not always so bad? Has this been happening more than just today?”

“For a couple of weeks. Maybe a month of two. I don’t – I’m not sure the exact moment that it happened, but it’s gotten worse recently. That day in Boston where we got blown out of the water and I pissed everyone off by being a jackass? That was probably the worst of it on a game day until today.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Emma sighs, holding her hands up to him as her brows furrow, those little worry lines popping up on her forehead. “You’ve been feeling this for more than today? And you didn’t say anything? Not to me or your family or even Archie? You’re a pitcher, Killian. You’ve been warned about rotator cuff injuries your entire life, and you didn’t think to say something?”

“I was scared.”

“Of what?” she asks before she gets up to pace back and forth in the same path as Liam before her. “All you had to do was say that your shoulder was bothering you, you’re benched for a week or two, and you have time to heal. Then you’re not getting carted off in the middle of games while I’m left sitting in a booth with two assholes who couldn’t care less about you being injured and who made jokes about it while I felt like I could throw up the entire time.”

“Emma – ”

“What?”

“I have something else to tell you.”

Her eyes flicker over him as she crosses her arm over her chest, tugging her dress down and bringing attention to the fact that she’s wearing his mom’s ring around her neck. He’d nearly forgotten about that, only remembered really when his hands absentmindedly reached for it out of habit.

“What do you have to tell me?”

Killian swallows, kind of feeling like he’s going to throw up too. It’s not a big deal. It can’t be. Emma will understand. He’s lying to himself thinking that, but that’s what he has to do.

“When Liam and I were in the boating accident, when I had an open fracture on my arm, I also had a rotator cuff tear. It’s why I didn’t come back at all that season. It’s why I have the small scars on my shoulder.” Emma stops pacing and turns to look at him, worry written all over her face as his own worry constricts his throat. “No one knows about it. Only my family, Archie, and the doctors in Florida who did my surgery. I never told anyone because I didn’t want to be seen as weak. I’d finally gotten myself together, stopping the drinking and the women and every other dumb decision I was making, and there I was having my life torn away from me again. I guess I was so over being pitied and being looked down upon that I rationalized not telling anyone. I thought that if everyone didn’t know, things would be just fine. Life would go on as normal, and that’s all I wanted.”

He takes a breath and tries to figure out what’s going on in Emma’s head, but he can’t tell. There’s no emotion on her face. Absolutely none at all.

“Last season,” Killian continues. “I played with pain. It wasn’t much, and it was really more when I was working my way back than anything. By the time we made it to the Series, I felt fine. This season, not so much. It’s hurt randomly. Sometimes on game days. Sometimes when I’m waking up in the morning or in the middle of the night. Those days I can’t really move it for awhile. I – I know I shouldn’t have ignored the signs, Swan, but I couldn’t have it all taken away from me again. I just couldn’t.”

He’s not even sure if he said everything he needed to say. He’s got no clue. If he had to, he couldn’t even repeat the words that just passed through his lips. But they’re out there, and the bricks on his shoulders don’t feel quite so heavy.

“Every time we’ve talked about the accident,” Emma starts, and he recognizes the change of tone in her voice immediately, “you have never once mentioned that you tore your rotator cuff and that you had to have surgery to repair it. I would get you keeping that from me as a journalist but not as your girlfriend. How many times have we talked about that day, Killian? How often have we discussed it? How often have you sat there and lied to my face about it? And not only it. Every time you’ve been in pain this year, you’ve lied to me. This morning when I asked you what was wrong, you lied to me. In Boston when we were mad at each other, you lied to me. And those are just the times that I know of. I’m sure there are more. I can’t…”

“Swan, I’m sorry, okay?” he pleads. She shakes her head from side to side, and he rises from his the chair to come to the other side of the desk, leaning against the wood so that they’re not separated by it. “I wanted to tell you. I kept telling myself that I would and that maybe I’d work up the courage to say what was going on, but I never could.”

The clench in Emma’s jaw is visible, especially when she turns to the side to look away with another shake of her head. “I am sorry that you have been through so much, that you are still going through so much. I love you. I really do. But it almost makes it worse to me that you’ve known you were keeping something from me and still didn’t tell me. It doesn’t matter what it is. You actively lied to me, and I am not okay with that.”

“I was terrified, Emma. Don’t you get that?”

Her head turns back to him then, green eyes full of tears, and he can barely hear anything over the sound of his heart thumping.

“I think I just…I think I need some time is all.”

“Emma – ”

“No, Killian,” she starts, holding her hand up and stepping backward, “I need time. Because I’ve trusted you with so much of what’s going on in my life, I’ve let myself lean on you and need you more than I have ever let myself need someone else, and you couldn’t bother doing the same. Why couldn’t you bother doing the same? This is the same exact thing that’s happened to me every time I’ve put my heart on the line, and I – I need some time to think.”

“Emma.”

“I’ll call you soon,” she says as she rises from the chair, but he’s not sure that he believes her. “You have Liam and Elsa to take care of you, right?”

“Aye,” he nods, biting his tongue at all of the things he wants to say right now. Emma is fighting between wanting him to be okay and being upset with him. He can tell, and he has to respect her wishes right now. In a few days, it’ll be different. But damn if this doesn’t hurt. “I don’t…I’m sorry. I promise I didn’t mean to hurt you, love. That was not my intention here.”

“I know. That’s what makes this worse.” Emma blinks, her lips pressed together, before silently walking out the door and leaving him sitting there.

Alone.

Fuck.

He knew it was going to happen, and not even that could have prepared him for it.

But all she said was that she needed time, right? She didn’t yell at him saying that they were over, that she was breaking up with him, that she didn’t love him anymore. None of that was mentioned, so there’s hope, right?

There has to be hope.

It doesn’t matter that he didn’t hurt her in the same way that Neal and Walsh hurt her, that he didn’t hurt her the way the foster system did. It doesn’t matter that he didn’t maliciously set out to inflict pain. What matters is that she’s upset with his actions, with his lies, and who is he to try to say what she can be mad about and what she can’t be mad about?

He’s no one.

Only Emma can decide how she feels about things.

He probably deserves all of this for how much of an asshole he is.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath as he pinches the bridge of his nose.

And he’s still got to tell his team. And Ariel will have to release a statement and oh shit, Ariel. She’s going to murder him.

She really is.

Killian uses Elsa’s phone to text Liam that he and Emma are finished talking and that he’s going home now. He doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t give any more details. No one needs any. They know where they live, and if all else fails, he will answer their texts from his laptop.

When he gets home fifteen minutes later, though, he sees it sitting on his coffee table and ignores it. He’s really not in the mood to talk to anyone or to do anything. All he wants is to take a shower and wash this damn day away. It’s not like he’s got any deadlines anymore or anything to do.

He can’t even do his job.

And it’s his fault.

How could he have been so stupid?

The moment Killian walks into his bedroom, he sees Emma’s clothes everywhere. She’d brought over a bag of things last night, outfits that she was considering wearing but hadn’t decided on, as well as seemingly everything else she owns. She’s not the neatest person in the world, never has been, but it seems that this morning she was determined to make her mark on every single inch of this room.

She did a damn good job at it.

Killian’s sure that she was planning on cleaning it up when she came back here tonight. They were going to celebrate her tonight. He had a whole dinner prepared that he was going to cook. All of the ingredients are in his fridge as well as Emma’s favorite whiskey and a chocolate and cherry cake that he baked because he knows that she loves those.

They never even got to talk about how it was for her today.

How could he have ruined a day that was so important to her?

And he knows that he’s ruined it. He does. He knows that she’s probably in her apartment right now fielding questions from everyone about what it was like, how she liked it, if she wants to do it again. And she’s fielding questions about how he is and why she’s not with him. He doesn’t know what she’ll say, if she’ll say anything at all, and for as many times as he’s hated himself, he doesn’t think he’s ever hated himself as much as he does right now for upsetting Emma.

This is not how things are supposed to be.

He doesn’t bother picking her clothes up, leaving all of them where they are. That’s something he’ll deal with later. He’s going to take a shower right now, and absolutely nothing is going to stop him.

Except for the yellow and blue sticky notes pressed in a line on his bathroom mirror over where Emma has left her curling iron.

I promise I’m going to clean up my things later. Don’t get all tense about it if you see it all before I do.

Thank you for being such a big supporter of me and “cheering me on.”

We’re both going to kick ass today.

I love you, Killian Jones.

Killian’s stomach twists at the last one, and he carefully pulls it off the mirror so that he can run his fingers over the words there as well as the lipstick mark that she left.

“I love you too, Emma,” he mutters to himself in the silence of the bathroom.

#catch me if you can #cs fic #cs ff #captain swan fic #captain swan

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justanoutlawfic · 4 years

Text

If you're out on the road: A Swanfire/Gold Family AU

Summary: Where You Lead Remix. In a world where Emma & Neal never broke up, but Wren & Neal's relationship was even more turbulent.

On the first day of Giftmas, I give...QueenOfTheMerryMen a Where You Lead AU where Swanfire raises Henry and 10 years later...Wren falls ill leading to some Golden Swan family moments. Something we talked about based on a This Is Us scene. Check out her stuff, it's awesome!

Also on AO3

Neal knew that he was ungrateful. Plenty of kids would want to be in his position. To live in a nice house, go to a school where things weren’t constantly falling apart and to have a chance to graduate from college without any loans. Yet, all of that came with a price: to be constantly judged and have your entire life planned out for you.

Wren Gold wasn’t a bad father. He just…wasn’t the kind to give warm hugs or say that Neal had done his best at the end of the day. He expected top grades and for Neal to make the headmaster’s list every term. Anything less than success wasn’t tolerated in their home. Neal was expected to go to Yale, just like Wren had done before him. All of the Gold men had attended the Ivy covered halls and there was no way that he would be the exception. It didn’t matter that his dreams were to travel for the first few years after graduating. Wren always squandered that wanderlust, just as he did anything artistic that Neal had in his mind. Neal would become a lawyer or a doctor, just like his father. He would marry a cute girl from school.

Neal’s entire destiny had been laid out for him by the time Milah got pregnant. His mom had buckled under the pressures of motherhood and taken off not long after. It was always just him and his dad against the world. At first, that was a good thing. And then Wren got stricter. More was expected of Neal. Suddenly, the fun times became less. His photography wasn’t as accepted. Wren enrolled him in etiquette classes, pushed him into cotillions and trainings for escorting girls at coming out parties.

“You’ll be a proper Gold man, yet.”

As if that was all his life amounted to. As if he was never destined to be more than that.

Sure, there were good times. Like when Wren bought him his first camera right before their trip to Scotland when Neal was 10. It had been just the two of them, thankfully. Malcolm had some business to attend to in New York. Neal still had all the pictures from that vacation and looked back on them fondly. It was one of the last times he and his father saw eye to eye.

Then when he was 14, a whirlwind of blonde curls and wild green eyes entered his life. Mary Margaret and David Nolan had moved from the Midwest after the latter’s cookie business had become lucrative. Their business was a success over night. After much pressure and persuasion, they had been asked to move to Greenwich to expand. With them, came their two children. They had their son, Benjamin, and their daughter, Emma. She hated the move with everything in her. More so, she hated Chilton Academy. She didn’t fit in with the snotty yet very smart girls. She couldn’t stand the uniform she was forced to wear.

They were like two bitter peas in a pod. Neal and Emma would ditch classes together, spending time in their empty houses, smoking cigarettes and stealing their parents’ good liquor. They talked about the dreams they had to travel after high school and ditch their parents’ plans for them.

3 months later, Neal was still working up the courage to kiss Emma when she did it first in the 7-Eleven parking lot.

“I just wanted to know what it would feel like,” she told him.

They were even more inseparable after that, just with their lips. It didn’t take long for her parents to find them making out in her bedroom when Emma was supposed to be watching her little brother. To give them all the benefit of the doubt, Wren tried to give his son the sex talk. The Nolans did the same with Emma.

It was all for nothing. A year later, Emma came to him, thumbs fiddling. Her face was paler than normal. A plastic bag stuck out of her LL Bean monogrammed backpack.

“I think I’m pregnant,” she mumbled.

People say when you die, you watch your life flash before your eyes. In that moment, Neal watched all his dreams go out the window. He didn’t even have the results, but he knew. They weren’t the most careful. Half the time, he forgot to bring a condom. They kept telling themselves that they kept getting lucky and if it didn’t happen last time, what were the odds it would again?

As it turned out, sex on Neal’s balcony when they both tried to hide out from the awkwardness of his father and grandfather had done them in for good.

At first, it seemed to be what would break them up for good. They had very different ideas of what they wanted out of the baby.

“I can’t be a mother,” Emma whispered. “I have all these plans for after we graduate.”

“We can’t just give this baby up. He’s our future now,” Neal argued.

“He needs more than us! He needs two adults!”

“We can grow up. We can do this!”

“You’re living in a fantasy world!”

“No, I’m trying to do the right thing for our baby!” He bit his lip, trying to remember some of the cases his dad had told him about. “And you can’t give him up without my consent.”

Emma’s eyes locked on him and he stood firm. He wasn’t going to give up his son. He wasn’t going to be like his mother and he was certainly going to try to do better than his father.

Telling Wren was like swallowing a hornet’s nest. The look of disappointment and shame. Watching as he tried to figure how they could hide it.

“You’ll marry her,” Wren said, finally. “That’s the only way to fix this.”

Neal let out a shallow laugh. “Dad, she doesn’t even want to raise this baby. She isn’t going to want to marry me.”

“I’ll talk to her parents. They’ll show her it’s for the best.”

“No! This isn’t your choice to make! It’s ours!”

“You’re still a child!”

“I’m not a child anymore!”

“You’re barely sixteen!” Wren snapped. “This baby doesn’t change that fact!”

“No, what it changes is that you can’t control my life anymore and that drives you crazy.”

To give them credit, Mary Margaret and David did try to talk some sense into Emma. Not about marriage, they thought that idea was insane. But they didn’t think she was fully ready to walk away from the baby either. Yet, Emma stood firm. She didn’t want the baby. She kept saying that she didn’t even want to look at he or she when they were born. Unlike Wren, they backed off. Neal wondered what that was like. To have parents that may not have agreed with you, but would steal support you.

The months went by and Emma barely spoke to him. He went to every sonogram and watched as his baby grew. Emma barely looked at the screen, even when the tech would point out something new. She wouldn’t answer Neal’s questions and she stopped showing up to lunch. He could hear people whispering about her and he knew he got off easy. Emma was the one carrying the beach ball under her cardigan. He didn’t have a sign stamped on him. People could forget he was the father. Neal tried to be there for her…but she didn’t want him there.

“It’s not just my fault, you know,” he said, one particular afternoon when she was angry at the world. They were leaving school and she was still refusing to talk to him. “It took both of us.”

Emma let out a bitter laugh and rolled her eyes. “Trust me, I know. No one is letting me forget it.”

“You don’t have to do this alone! I want to be there for you! Your parents want to be there for you! Why are you pushing all of us away?”

Emma turned to face him, tears in her eyes. “Because where are you going to be in a few months when he or she is here and I’m not raising it?”

And Neal didn’t have an answer to that. Emma finished her walk to her yellow bug, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Wren still thought marriage would solve all of their problems. He offered to let Emma move in, offered to let Neal go live with the Nolans if they felt more comfortable with that. Neal didn’t want to talk about it. He knew deep down it wasn’t really his father’s fault and yet he blamed him for the distance. He found himself like Emma, angry at the world.

And then three months later, everything changed.

Neal was awoken in the middle of the night by the landline on his nightstand ringing. Mary Margaret told him that Emma was in labor. She had left a note behind and taken the bus. They were on their way there as they spoke, but they also knew that she would want him there. Neal woke up his father and off they went. Ready to meet the newest member of their family.

Emma was already in the room by the time they arrived. She didn’t want anyone else in there. Even Mary Margaret and David lined the hall. They stood against the wall, Wren’s cane scraping against the floor. No one said a word, but Neal knew they were all thinking the same thing: everything in their life was about to change.

An hour later, a nurse stepped out. “Neal Gold?” She asked.

Neal looked up. “Yes?”

“Emma would like to see you.”

Neal stepped into the room and found Emma sitting up in bed. In her arms was a baby wrapped in the standard hospital blanket. She stared down at him, with a look about her that Neal had never seen. She was cooing at him. Emma Nolan could coo. Who the hell would’ve guessed that?

“Emma?”

Emma looked up. “I wasn’t going to hold the baby.”

“I figured.”

“But then the doctor asked…and I did.”

“I just…he’s perfect.”

Neal paused. “He?”

She nodded. “It’s a boy.”

A smile broke out across his face and he walked closer to the bed, taking his son in. He was squishy, mostly, with no real defining features. Still, Neal found himself whispering, “He’s perfect.”

“He is.” Emma stared back down at the baby. “We can do this. Together.”

Neal looked up from his son to back to his…well, he wasn’t sure what Emma was to him anymore. “Really? You want to?”

“Just…not here. I can’t be in Greenwich anymore. I can’t raise him around people who point and stare. Who care more about money than being a good person.” She let out a sigh. “I love my parents and my brother, and we’ll still see them. Your dad too, if you want. But I need to get out of this town if we’re going to do this.”

She was asking him to give up everything. It was stupid, it was reckless…

It was the adventure they had always talked about.

They didn’t tell anyone when they came into visit. All they said was that Emma had changed her mind and wanted to parent. Henry David Gold came into the world and changed everything.

When Neal left to pick her up a few days later, he had packed up the bug with everything they would need. The clothes people had gifted him for the baby, some of his own and the stuff Emma had asked he swiped. He left the note in a place he knew his father wouldn’t find for a couple of days. Not until he wondered why he hadn’t heard from him at the Nolans.

Neal picked up the two people he loved most from that hospital and they drove for only an hour until they found their new home. Stars Hollow.

Main Street was lined with shops, two dedicated to cats. There was a diner named after a grandparent. People had white picket fences and there was a man singing with his guitar on the street corner with a small audience. Children ran around the park laughing. Couples walked around holding hands.

Neal drove to the inn and did his first act as a father. He asked the owner Beverly Lucas for a job, any job. She took one look at him, then at his young girlfriend and newborn baby, then offered him a busboy position at her diner. She told Emma she could have an alternating waitress shift once the baby was older. She’d take a bit of rent out of their checks and in the meantime, they’d live in the tiny loft above the diner. It smelled like grilled onions and only had a living room, a kitchen and the bathroom was separated by a curtain, but it was home.

They’d later learn that Beverly only did it because her own daughter had run away from home when she was 16. She also had a baby. It took her years to find her granddaughter, and that didn’t happen until Anita’s murder. She never knew if Anita and Ruby were safe during that time, but she naively hoped that they had someone like her looking out for them.

The next 10 years were anything but easy. Mary Margaret and David tried to get them to come home often, especially after they saw the crappy loft they lived in. Emma stood her ground. Wren never stepped foot in Stars Hollow and it took Neal six weeks to give him a call. While Emma would grow to have a better relationship with both of her parents, Neal’s own with his father only became worse.

They fought a lot those first few years in that tiny loft, figuring out parenting beliefs and how to best be a couple. There were times they broke up and Emma went to stay with Granny and Ruby, but it was never for very long. Four years after their start, Neal got a job as a bell boy at the inn and found a love for it. He started making repairs in his spare time, slowly working his way up the chain. Emma worked at the diner until she could get financial aid for Stars Hollow Community College. She got her associate’s in criminal justice and became a cop. They moved out of the tiny loft just in time for Henry to start kindergarten, into a place with two bedrooms. It wasn’t anything fancy, but no longer reeked of onions. And by his 8th birthday, they bought a house just off of Main Street.

When Henry was 10, Neal gifted him a fishing trip that he had been asking for. Emma had the house to herself for the first time in forever. She wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. She could visit her parents or perhaps invite Ruby over. Instead, she decided to take a long bubble bath and catch up on some of her favorite comedy shows that Neal had recorded for her. Just as she was about to select a bath bomb, her cell phone rang with a number that she didn’t quite recognize.

“Hello?”

“Is this Emma Nolan?”

“Yes.”

“This is Belle Gold. I’m your son’s step-grandmother.”

This took Emma by surprise. They hadn’t seen Wren since last Christmas and he hadn’t mentioned anything about a wife. “You’re shitting me.”

Belle paused. “I can assure you that I am not “shitting you”, Ms. Nolan.”

“It’s Emma, please. What’s going on?”

“My husband had a heart attack.”

Emma slid down onto the side of the tub. “Is he…is he okay?”

“They gave him surgery and they think he’ll be fine. He hasn’t asked for Neal but I know if it was my son…”

“You’d want him there.” Emma bit her lip. “Listen, he’s on a fishing trip with our son, but I’ll try calling him.”

“Thank you. He’s at Yale New Haven.”

Emma hung up her phone and the lock screen returned. A picture of Neal, with his arm around Henry. Her partner rarely talked about his father. They saw him at the required holidays, Neal groaned through them. Henry was getting older and he would call his grandfather a bit more frequently. Even so, Wren was a touchy subject in their family.

She didn’t know what his response would be, but she found herself selecting his number and calling him anyway. It almost immediately went to voicemail. Of course. No reception on the lake.

“Hey, I uh…I don’t know if I should leave this on here, but your dad is in the hospital, Yale New Haven to be exact. He had a heart attack.” She paused. “I know that you feel conflicted about him, but I got the call and I thought you should know…I…I’m gonna go there now. If you get this in time, meet me there. If not, have fun with Henry.” Another pause. “I love you. Always.”

She hung up and let the bath bomb slip back into the basket Henry had made for her for Mother’s Day. Her relaxing day would have to wait.

Yale New Haven Hospital was a good hour and a half drive from Stars Hollow, a half hour from Greenwich. Even so, Emma knew why Wren was there. He was a graduate of Yale. His entire life was that damn school. Even on his death bed, he’d want only the best.

Emma checked in, fibbing that she was actually Wren’s daughter-in-law. She and Neal had never gone through with an actual ceremony; they hadn’t felt the need for it. It wasn’t like she was asking for personal information, just the floor he was on. Plastering the sticker on her red leather jacket, she headed to where he was staying.

A petite brunette walked out of the room, her hand over her growing baby bump. Emma tilted her head in curiosity. “Belle?” She asked.

The woman’s blue eyes perked up a bit. “You must be Emma. I’ve seen pictures.” She looked around. “Is Neal…”

“I couldn’t get a hold of him, but I left word.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sure he’ll come as soon as he hears.”

“Yes, I’m sure he will too.”

Emma tried her best not to stare at the baby bump and instead looked at the room in front of her.

“Wren’s up for visitors,” Belle continued. “If you want to go see him. I was just going to go call his father.”

Emma grimaced. “I don’t envy you on that job.”

Belle chuckled a bit. “Thanks.”

Emma walked into the room. Wren looked much weaker than he had the last time she had seen him. A tube ran through his nose and there were various machines there to keep him up. Emma hated hospitals. The last time she had been in one was when Henry broke his collar bone when he was 7. Scariest moment of her life.

“Hey there, Mr. Gold.”

Wren slowly looked up at her. “Emma.” His voice was weak, but the Scottish accent shone through.

“I got a call from your wife.” She took a step closer. “And I see you’re going to give me a brother or sister-in-law. Any other secrets?”

Wren looked away again. “It’s not as if you and my son visit much.”

Emma knew she couldn’t argue there. “That’s between the two of you. I don’t keep him from you.”

“I never thought that.” Wren coughed a little. “I also never blamed you completely for what happened. It takes two to get into the mess you were in.”

Emma was a bit surprised to hear that come out of his mouth. “Well…thank you.”

There was silence. Wren wasn’t going to ask about Neal. They were both so stubborn. If it wouldn’t make her a hypocrite, it’d drive her nuts.

“Neal took Henry fishing early this morning,” Emma explained. “I left word on his voicemail but I don’t know if he got it yet.”

“Wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t show. Wasn’t entirely surprised when just you showed up.”

Emma sighed, shaking her head. “You both were stupid all those years ago.”

“I was the parent. It was my job to be responsible for him. Maybe if I had done more, if I hadn’t pushed him so damn hard…”

“You didn’t ruin him,” Emma interrupted. “He’s too strong for you to ruin him.”

She thought of all the double shifts Neal worked those first few years, just so they could make it. He cheered her on through community college. He was never too tired to play with Henry, even after bussing tables or carrying bags to rooms or fixing the stairs at the inn. He was always their hero.

No matter what Neal had to say about his past, it didn’t break him.

“If anything,” Emma continued. “I think he took his past and chose to become an amazing dad and partner because of it.”

Wren nodded. “And I can’t take any credit.”

“No, you definitely can. Because there are times I see you in him and it’s not bad. There are times it is, but mostly it’s not.”

Her phone buzzed. A text from Neal.

We’re on our way back now. I’ll drop Henry off with Granny and Ruby, then go see him.

Emma gently smiled. “He loves you. You two have a complicated relationship and he may not say it enough, but I know he does.”

“To be fair, you have to be taught to say I love you, Ms. Nolan. I don’t think I taught him.”

“And your dad didn’t teach you.”

Emma settled into the chair beside his bed.

“You two have a choice now. Turn shit around before it’s too late or continue to let it fester. I know you probably intend to do better with that little one on the way, but why not fix this mess first?”

#swanfire #swanfire au #papafire #golden swan #ouat #ouat au

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lassluna · 5 years

Text

Let the Stars Remind You (18/20)

“It’s ok Papa, you don’t have to worry. We can trust her, she’s just like me,” She says holding his hand. “She can hear the stars. She’s just like me.” she repeats, a look of wonder on her face, pure belief in what she’s saying. Killian looks down at her. His little girl, his Starfish, and isn’t sure. He still isn’t sure if rescuing Emma Swan is the best thing he’s ever done, or their undoing.

AN: Sorry for the delay, running away from a hurricane. Thank you, @ultraluckycatnd for proofing this. I really appreciate it.

AO3 FFN

Zelena is having a blast when they arrive. She’s positively drunk.

But the moment she got out of the car in the middle of nowhere, the moment she saw the tree line, green electricity sparked all along her body.

Emma doesn’t understand why Zelena’s tracking spell led them here, not at first anyway.

Then red head smirks, then she reaches up into thin air and tears.

The illusion the coven was hiding behind rips like tissue revealing what looked to Emma like a summer camp. Wooden cabins of various sizes in a semicircle, women in robes doing magic freely with smiles on their faces. Lighting herbs and turning cauldrons of various sizes.

Ok, maybe not a traditional summer camp.

“Bloody hell.” Liam says in a curse, getting out of the car with a gun strapped onto his chest. Emma glares at the weapon.

“You’re not going to use that right?” She asks. “These are kids. People manipulated to be here, not actual villains.” She insists.

Liam glares sharply at her. “I’ll do what I need to do to rescue my brother lass.” To say they were on better terms would be an understatement, but they had an understanding.

“Do you think Alice is going to stay with your friends’ house like we agreed?” She asks lightly, trying to get her magic to spark before they advanced.

“She better.” Liam grumbles uncertainly.

Zelena however does not wait for them to advance she blasts the first house she sees with green fire, making the earth rumble.

They all turn towards them, about thirty witches looking ready to defend their home. Emma hesitates for a moment, wondering if they should have called reinforcements or something. “So what’s the plan here?” She says towards Zelena.

“I’m burning anyone who stands between me and my daughter.” She says.

“Even if it’s all of them?” Zelena rolls her eyes.

“Please, I’ve been trained by the Dark One himself, they have been trained by a Hogwarts wanna be.” She sneers. “But when you find her, my Robin…” Zelena says longingly. “Tell her, that wicked always wins alright?” But she doesn’t wait for a reply, instead she rushes forward in the thick of things.

Then she screeches in some obvious witch like war cry, lighting the ground on fire as she advances. Emma just stands bewildered as the older witch moves, mowing down anyone who stands before her.

“How about we let her do the heavy lifting and we go in and find where they’re keeping Killian?” Liam asks. Emma nods in agreement.

“Should we check house to house?” Liam says once more, but Emma has a feeling, a gut feeling as she looks at the largest grandest house in the middle of Zelena’s war path.

“Let’s start with that one.”

It’s a home like any other, couch in front of a fire place, small dining room in front of a modest kitchen, staircase that went up to where Emma imagines bedrooms might be. It doesn’t seem at all the evil lair Emma pictured.

“Bloody hell.” Liam curses. Emma turns towards him not sure what he’s cursing about. “It’s exactly how he described it...” He says trailing off.

Emma somehow knows Killian is here, or was her. She can feel it in her bones.

“Let’s find him and get out.” Emma agrees, poking around. Liam heads upstairs, while Emma finishes looking around the ground floor.

There’s a door. Emma’s instincts scream, pointing her towards an empty wall. She narrows her vision. There isn’t a door. But then she remembers Zelena how she ripped away at the illusion before, she just reached forward and-

“What the hell are you doing?” A voice snarls. Emma barley moves before something slices through the air and implants itself where her head used to be.

“Gretel,” Emma snarls, recognizing the blonde. She stands here once again coming between Emma and rescuing Killian, armed with her jolly rancher daggers.

“I disappointed Mother when I let you get away last time,” she says, tightening her grip on her weapons. “That will not happen twice.”

Emma flexes her hands, feeling energy rippling. It comes easy now, after her lessons with Zelena, after realizing what exactly she has to protect.

“Trust me; things are going to happen much differently than last time,” she assures the younger woman. “Just not how you’d expect.”

Gretel dashes at her, armed and ready, but Emma’s ready for the attack. She reaches out and blasts her with a magical blast. It knocks the attacking blonde flat on her back, but she doesn’t stay down for long. Gretel growls angrily under her breath before throwing one of her piercing sugar blades at Emma.

She raises her hands, shielding herself, making the projectile bounce harmlessly off her.

“Someone got better,” Gretel sneers. Emma shrugs.

“Let this go Candy Striper.” Emma insists.

“Never,” she hisses rushing forward once again. Emma’s too slow to blast her again, letting Gretel get in close. She dodges the fierce slashes Gretel tries to dish out. They are furious and maybe a bit manic. Emma clenches her fist and bam, punches Gretel right in the face.

Gretel tumbles down falling still.

It feels good.

That is until Emma hears someone behind her. She whirls around, magic at the ready.

“Bloody hell!” Liam curses gun raised. “Don’t shoot!”

“I should say the same to you!” she shouts at him, glaring at the weapon. Liam puts it down.

“What the hell happened?” he asks, gesturing to the piercing sugar blade in the wall. “Have yourself a little treat?” Emma rolls her eyes.

“Remember jolly rancher girl I mentioned?” Emma says, gesturing to where Gretel is laying.

Or where she was laying.

“What the-“ she curses, then something wraps around her ankles and pulls, pulling Emma right off her feet and dragged away from the wall and Liam.

“Never turn your back to the enemy Savior,” Gretel snarls, candy necklace in her hand. Liam looks towards her and raises his gun. Gretel laughs and swings her hand.

Instead of bullets, mini marshmallows hit her in the chest. Liam looks down and his gun is chocolate. She laughs once more, giving another swipe of her hand and knocking Liam against the dining room tables.

Emma tries to move, tries to get her feet free but the candy necklace feels like it’s made of steel.

“Why are you even listening to her? You do see Gothel is just using you right?” Emma snaps. “She doesn’t care about you.”

Gretel tilts her head.

“Mother Gothel cares about her sisters,” she insists. “She shows us how we can be our best selves.”

“She wants to sacrifice a six year old.” Gretel’s face is unchanged.

“Sometimes our best self is how we can help Mother.”

“You’re insane,” Emma hisses, blasting at her, but it’s Gretel’s turn to shield herself. Gretel drags her across the floor, making Emma lose her concentration on her magic. She can’t get another burst off, nor can she aim it once she does. Gretel makes a loop and instead of the necklace being wrapped around her feet, it’s now around her throat.

No! Emma thinks frantically, feeling it like a noose around her neck.

They can’t win! Gretel…Gothel…they can’t win! Not like this.

The inability to breath makes her panic and thrash, trying to pull against the binding, trying to get oxygen back in her lungs trying-

“Stop it!” cries a voice and the force around Emma’s neck immediately loosened.

Gretel is thrown back and Emma is freed, coughing and spluttering, trying her best to get herself under control. “Don’t hurt Emma.” Emma recognizes the voice.

“Alice-“ Emma coughs, her throat soar. “What are you-“ But Alice doesn’t look at her, her eyes are on Gretel.

“Alice.” The woman says uncertainly. “Mother Gothel has been looking for you.” She says with a too wide smile. “Come I can take you too her and-“ But Alice stomps her foot.

“I want you to stop hurting people.” She demands. “I want you to go home to your Papa and let me go home to mine.” She demands as if she were demanding a sweet treat.

Something far away takes over Gretel, like a memory long forgotten. “But I don’t-“

But Alice doesn’t have time for that, she gives another stomp and then Gretel is surrounded by glittery silver smoke and is just gone.

Emma looks at Alice in amazement. “Alice-Alice, what are you doing here.”

But Alice isn’t done yet. “He’s my Papa. You have to let me help!” She insists. “He’s only here because of me! I-I can help!” She insists stubbornly. Slowly Emma gets to her feet.

“Alright Alice, but you have to do exactly what Liam and I say alright?” She asks. Alice smiles; nodding excitedly.

“Speaking of Liam…” She says trailing off, eyes darting to where Liam was thrown earlier. She hears a groan.

They make their way over there just as Liam shift, getting to his feet from the harsh toss. He’s holding his arm and his head is bleeding slightly.

“What the devil?” He curses, blinking at Alice. “Alice! You were supposed to be at Scarlet’s!” The little girl shrugs.

“We already decided that Alice is coming.” Emma declares.

“I don’t think that’s your decision-“ But Emma cuts him off because they just don’t have time to argue.

“What do you suggest we do?” Emma hisses. “Drive her back then come back for your brother?” Liam doesn’t respond. “Come on, let’s just be quick.”

She approaches the wall that she’s pretty certain is not a wall and reaches forward. It feels like tissue in her hand, light and delicate but all encompassing, and she rips it.

The wall is not a wall, it’s a door. She’s more convinced than ever that they are down here. Killian is down here.

“Watch my back Liam.” She says firmly. “Alice, stay right behind me.”

“This would be much easier if we could just remove your heart a lot of our problems would be solved.” Emma hears as they get towards the end of the impossibly long staircase.

She feels more like she’s descending into hell than into a basement.

With Gothel it’s probably the same thing.

“But where would we hide it if we could?” She hears a familiar accented voice say. It makes her heart skip a beat, barley containing her gasp back.

She stops at the end of the steps and stares.

It’s him.

It’s Killian.

He’s laying towards the back of a cell, against the wall, a small child pacing next to him. He looks tired, just looking at him so impossibly pale. She sees the moment he sees her, his eyes widened considerably.

“Swan?” He gasps, moving slowly to get to his feet, it takes a considerable time for him to do so and God, what did she do to him? “Emma?”

“Killian.” She breathes, racing towards the cell, hands around the bars. He does the same thing and just smiles. His eyes are so impossibly blue, even considering the circumstances.

“You found me.” He says. She smirks.

“Ever doubt I would?” Emma snickers.

“The cell and the magic gave me pause.” He admits lightly. His eyes flicker, towards movement behind her. “Liam?” He says surprised. The older brother Jones moves towards him.

“Brother, looks like you’ve got yourself in a pickle.” He teases. For all Liam’s ass-like behavior, she can tell how much the brothers adore each other just by the shared expressions. “How do we get you out of here?” He asks

“I can do it.” Alice pipes up. Emma almost forgot about her, standing behind her. She smiles at Killian “Hi Papa.” All the color drained from his face.

“Alice…” He breathes. “You brought her here?!” He gasps. Pure terror takes over his expression as he looks between Emma and Liam. “Are you both bloody insane?” He curses. “I told you not to come for me! I told you never to bring her here!” She practically feels his panic radiating off of him, his heart beating so fast it’s practically beating out of his chest.

“They didn’t bring me here, I snuck along!” The little blonde insists. “I wanted to help! You’re here because of me and I couldn’t let anything bad happen to you anymore.” Her words seem to calm him slightly.

“Alice…” He trails off.

“Watch what I can do Papa.” Alice says. “The Stars taught me-er, I guess since I’m the Stars I taught me…” she claps her hands and the bars that once held them separate vanish as if they never existed.

Alice smiles brightly as Killian moves to embrace her, falling to his knees in front of her. The little blonde, in tears, hugs her father and for a moment everything feels ok. It feels like everything is just going to work out.

“Come on.” Liam says after a moment; firm hand on his shoulder. “Let’s get out of here.” It takes a moment for Liam to help Killian back on his feet, his arm swung around Liam’s shoulder.

“Wait.” Says the girl, everyone freezes. The girl looks quizzically at them. “How do I know I should be going with you-any of you?” She asks.

Killian gives her a sharp look. “Little lass, I assure you they are to be trusted, now-“ But she shakes her head and stamps her foot impatiently.

“My mom is here and if you’re not with her-if I get this close and am still not back home then-“ The girl trails off, saffron eyes glittering vibrantly.

Emma recalls another pair of those eyes. “You’re Robin right?” The girl’s eyes snap towards her; telling her that Emma is right in her guess. “Your mom gave me a message for you…” She says. “It’s a little strange, but…she says that ‘Wicked always wins.’”

There’s a moment of hesitation, then the girl, Robin smiles brightly.

“Alright let’s get out of here!” The little girl says excitedly, bonding towards them stopping next to Alice.

The two kids look over each other. Emma can barely make out their conversation as the group ascends the long staircase.

“Hi. My name is Alice.” She says extending her hand. Robin gives her a look.

“Killian’s kid?” She says sounding like she expected someone younger. “You don’t look anything like someone who grew up in a lighthouse.” She replies. “I’m Robin.”

“Not the first Robin.” Alice points out.

“No, my dad was the first Robin, I’m the second.” She says.

“So…Nobin? New Robin?” Alice asks a curious tilt in her expression. That seemed to tick off Robin.

“It’s just Robin.” She points out.

“But you’re the New Robin?” She insists.

“Then you’re Lighthouse girl.” She snaps back by the time they are on the ground floor.

The two dissolve into some combination of bonding and arguing.

“Both of you, hush.” Liam snaps at them. He might have been a bit harsh, but Emma understands it, he’s helping support Killian who hasn’t said much of anything. She can see the way he’s looking at this place, the way he looks with the hope of it not staring back.

No color has yet to return to his face and Emma can see by their stance that Liam is shouldering a majority of the weight.

“Only a little farther.” she assures Killian, trying to get him to look at her. He only manages a glance before he’s back looking at ghosts.

“Don’t listen to her Killian.” Liam snaps.

It takes Emma aback for a moment, she’d thought she’d had an accord with Liam, or at least an agreement that they’d wait until everything was at ease before they’d start going at each other’s throats.

“Whatever lies and tricks Eloise has put in your head, you’re going to need to forget about.” Liam says sternly. “Alice needs you in your own head if we’re going to beat this.”

Gothel. Emma realizes, her hand goes to his shoulder, trying to comfort him. He doesn’t seem responsive to her, but it’s the least of Emma’s concerns, not when they still had to get to the car, get Zelena and hope and pray they don’t run into-

Right there in the middle of the clearing right outside is Gothel.

And she is mad.

Tagging: @hollyethecurious @therookshiningthrough @branlovestowrite @celestial-fire-writer @winterbaby89 @kmomof4

#mentions of gothel #let the stars remind you #Captain Swan #knightrook ff #captain swan au

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centerofstupidity · 6 years

Text

Twilight Chapter 3 Snark

If you enjoy the content you are reading, please like and follow the Center of Stupidity blog.

Interested in reading previous Twilight chapter snarks? They can be found here.

Chapter Summary: Bella is saved by sparkledouche. And Tyler's van is the best character in this craptastic series.

In the event that this gets flagged, here is another place to read the chapter snark.

When I opened my eyes in the morning, something was different.

"My entire bedroom was covered with sticky notes."

I jumped up to look outside, and then groaned in horror.

Did Bella see demons emerging from the netherworld to rape and pillage? Nope.

Did Bella see an alien invasion? Nope.

Did Bella see Cthulu? Nope.

What did Bella see that is so horrifying? It is snow!

Bella complains that the driveway is a "deadly ice slick."

And since Bella is so clumsy, she thinks "it might be safer for me to go back to bed."

Charlie has left for work and Bella has some breakfast.

I felt excited to go to school, and that scared me.

"I can't lose my weirdo status! That would be terrible!"

I knew it wasn't the stimulating learning environment I was anticipating, or seeing my new set of friends.

Well, duh.

Bella doesn't have any friends and thinks she is smarter than everyone else.

If I was being honest with myself, I knew I was eager to get to school because I would see Edward Cullen. And that was very, very stupid.

Most people would be turned off by a guy who acts like a bipolar psycho. But Bella?

She thinks he is a hunk and wants to be near him.

I should be avoiding him entirely after my brainless and embarrassing babbling yesterday.

Bella being brainless? Let me think... Yes!

But she didn't babble to Edward. Bella whined about how her life sucks then got all prickly when Edward started asking her questions.

If I were her, I would be embarrassed that I bitched and moaned to a perfect stranger then acted rudely.

And I was suspicious of him; why should he lie about his eyes?

Did it ever occur to you that perhaps his eyes never changed color and you only imagined it?

I was still frightened of the hostility I sometimes felt emanating from him, and I was still tongue tied whenever I pictured his perfect face.

"A guy who acts like a douchebag gets me all hot and bothered."

Bella whines about her perilous journey to walk down the driveway and get inside her car.

Clearly, today was going to be nightmarish.

For the reader, each chapter is always a nightmare.

And on the way to school, Bella becomes a classic Sue trait: she is the most attractive woman in the universe but she is unaware of her beauty. And the Sue gets the attention of all the men and the envy of all the women.

I was sure I looked exactly the same as I had in Phoenix. Maybe it was just that the boys back home had watched me pass slowly through all the awkward phases of adolescence and still thought of me that way.

Because of course Bella has met all the guys in Phoenix and they ALL viewed her as a gawky teenager.

Wait a tick... She is STILL a gawky teenager.

And no, guys do not forever think of a girl as an ugly duckling.

The very moment said duckling becomes slightly attractive, guys will forget any past blemishes.

It's likely that the guys in Phoenix had more girls to choose from and ignored the antisocial surly weirdo.

Perhaps it was because I was a novelty here, where novelties were few and far between.

Because Forks is so dull that they would view Bella as a positive addition to their town.

Possibly my crippling clumsiness was seen as endearing rather than pathetic, casting me as a damsel in distress.

Riiight. Because guys would think a weirdo who trips over air molecules to be adorable.

Bella, you ARE a damsel in distress.

Whatever the reason, Mike's puppy dog behavior and Eric's apparent rivalry with him were disconcerting. I wasn't sure if I didn't prefer being ignored.

"It's so awful having icky guys fighting over me! If I can't be Edward's wife, then I want to be ignored!"

And Mike having "puppy dog behavior"?

Bella has no problem with driving her truck and drives slowly so she doesn't "carve a path of destruction."

She arrives at school and realizes that Charlie put snow chains on her truck.

If I was Charlie, I would have cut Bella's brake lines. Bella is standing by the back of the truck when she hears a loud and high-pitched screech.

It's Tyler's Van and it is on a mission from God.

Nothing was moving in slow motion, the way it does in the movies.

Ya know, I think that comment sounded wittier in Stephenie Meyer's head than it does on paper.

Instead, the adrenaline rush seemed to make my brain work much faster, and I was able to absorb in clear detail several things at once.

For someone who is supposed to be the smartest person in the world, Bella is just standing there while a van is careening towards her.

Edward is staring at Bella "in horror."

His face stood out from a sea of faces, all frozen in the same mask of shock.

Edward Cullen is the only person that matters! Everybody else is filthy peasants.

But of more immediate importance was the dark blue van that was skidding, tires locked and squealing against the brakes, spinning wildly across the ice of the parking lot.

Why is Bella still alive? The van should have crushed her by now.

It is almost as if Satan is trying to prevent the death of a Mary Sue...

Well, that explains a lot...

It was going to hit the back corner of my truck, and I was standing between them. I didn't even have time to close my eyes.

Before Bella Swan can be vanquished, someone saves her. I'll give you three guesses and the first two don't count.

My head cracked against the icy blacktop, and I felt something solid and cold pinning me to the ground.

Don't worry having any brain damage, Bella.

You need to have a brain before it can be injured.

"Take me like a kleptomaniac, you perfect and sparkling Adonis!"

Bella is lying on the pavement. The van is determined to vanquish Bella and is about "to collide with me again."

A low oath made me aware that someone was with me, and the voice was impossible not to recognize.

Who is making an oath?

Is she talking about someone swearing? The horror!

So Sparkledouche protects Bella (boo hiss!) and kills Tyler's van.

Rest in peace, Tyler's van. You are going to see the Spirit in the Sky.

It was absolutely silent for one long second before the screaming began. In the abrupt bedlam, I could hear more than one person shouting my name.

Nobody gives a damn about the driver. Tyler isn't the Sue so he doesn't matter.

Instead, everyone is fretting about Bella Swan, Emo Bitch Extraordinaire and the Queen of Phoenix.

Of course, Edward is worried about Bella who bumped her head.

Bella says "ow."

"That's what I thought." His voice, amazingly, sounded like he was suppressing laughter.

Bella wonders how Edward got over to her so quickly and he tells her that "I was standing right next to you, Bella."

And then they found us, a crowd of people with tears streaming down their faces, shouting at each other, shouting at us.

It is only logical that everyone cares about a sullen and psycho bitch.

Everyone is panicking and Bella tries to get up. Like a perfect gentleman, Edward pushes her down.

He also orders her to "stay put." Charming.

Bella whines about it being cold. Edward laughs but he is not happy.

She insists that Edward was standing next to his car. Edward then says that he "wasn't".

The adults finally show up.

But I obstinately held on to our argument; I was right, and he was going to admit it.

"I'm the Author Sue! So that means that I'm always right!"

Edward tells Bella that he was standing with her and pulled her out of the way.

Bella gets pissed off and tells him "no." Edward pleads with her and Bella demands "why?"

Edward tells her to "trust me" and promises to explain everything to her later.

They are both pissed off at each other.

It takes six EMTs and two teachers to move the van so they can bring the stretchers in.

Edward vehemently refused his, and I tried to do the same, but the traitor told them I'd hit my head and probably had a concussion.

How is Edward a "traitor"?

He promised Bella that he would explain everything.

But he didn't promise that Bella won't be going to the hospital.

I almost died of humiliation when they put on the neck brace.

"OMG! It's like so embarrassing to like almost die and have all the common sheep staring at me!"

It looked like the entire school was there, watching soberly as they loaded me in the back of the ambulance. Edward got to ride in the front. It was maddening.

Bella wants to be the center of attention...

But once people notice her, she bitches and moans because "OMG! The peasants are gawking at me!"

You can't have it both ways, bitch.

And in real life, no one would give a damn about a sullen and bitchy weirdo.

To make matters worse, Chief Swan arrived before they could get me safely away.

It's odd that Bella is informal with a guy who has "stalker" written all over him than her own FATHER.

She calls him "Chief Swan".

Charlie is concerned and this annoys Bella. She tunes him out and thinks about what happened.

When they'd lifted me away from the car, I had seen the deep dent in the tan car's bumper — a very distinct dent that fit the contours of Edward's shoulders… as if he had braced himself against the car with enough force to damage the metal frame…

Stephenie Meyer doesn't know that metal in a car crash does not neatly bend into the shape of whatever it hits.

It usually dents inwards.

So Bella should be seeing only a dent.

She shouldn't be able to tell that Sparkle Douche jammed his shoulder against the car.

And then there was his family, looking on from the distance, with expressions that ranged from disapproval to fury but held no hint of concern for their brother's safety.

Because they despise a Mary Sue.

I tried to think of a logical solution that could explain what I had just seen — a solution that excluded the assumption that I was insane.

AndI love the idea that the entire series is told from the perspective of a horny mental patient.

Naturally, the ambulance got a police escort to the county hospital.

Because Bella is so awesome, she can't say that her dad followed the ambulance.

Instead, she makes it sound like the entire police department escorted her to the hospital.

Bella whines about being in the ambulance.

What made it worse was that Edward simply glided through the hospital doors under his own power.

"It's so unfair. The filthy peasants are paying ATTENTION to me! It's like so EMBARRASSING!"

Bella is in the emergency room. A nurse puts on a "pressure cuff" and takes her temperature before walking away.

Which is strange because the nurse didn't take Bella's blood pressure.

Bella calls the neck brace "stupid-looking" before getting rid of it.

Thank God the hospital staff no longer gives a damn about the Queen of Phoenix.

Tyler is brought in. He has a nasty head wound and has cuts all over his body.

But since Bella is a Mary Sue, Tyler is groveling. Because Heaven forbid, a Sue is inconvenienced.

He ignored me. "I thought I was going to kill you! I was going too fast, and I hit the ice wrong…" He winced as one nurse started dabbing at his face.

"Don't worry about it; you missed me."

"How did you get out of the way so fast? You were there, and then you were gone…"

That doesn't make a lot of sense.

Tyler's van was skidding and spinning on the ice at a high speed.

It would be hard to focus on anything and see EXACTLY what is happening.

But he was able to SEE Bella and RECOGNIZE her.

Bella tries to explain that it was sparkledouche who saved her. But Tyler is surprised to hear this because he didn't see Edward.

I knew I wasn't crazy. What had happened? There was no way to explain away what I'd seen.

Four words: You knocked your head.

But since Bella Swan is a Sue, she can't have a head injury. What she says must be taken as gospel.

Bella doesn't have a concussion (how shocking!). But she can't leave until she talks to a doctor.

So I was trapped in the ER, waiting, harassed by Tyler 's constant apologies and promises to make it up to me. No matter how many times I tried to convince him I was fine, he continued to torment himself. He kept up a remorseful mumbling.

It's annoying that Bella Swan constantly sneering at everyone.

I still can't believe that some people think Bella Swan is a great and likable character.

So Bella ignores Tyler and closes her eyes. Then, Sparkledouche shows up and asks if she is sleeping.

I glared at him. It wasn't easy — it would have been more natural to ogle.

Because when a guy is a smug douchebag, you should be undressing him with your eyes.

Bella whines that she isn't allowed to leave and then asks him why isn't he "strapped to a gurney like the rest of us?"

Edward explains that he has connections and he is here to get her out of the hospital.

A handsome blond doctor shows up. Of course, Bella has a massive lady boner.

For some strange reason, Bella is surprised that the doctor looks tired and has dark bags under his eyes.

From Charlie's description, this had to be Edward's father.

Charlie only described Edward's father as being a handsome doctor who is happily married.

He didn't say that the doctor had blond hair.

For someone who is supposedly the smartest person in the universe, she is a moron.

Dr. Carlisle Cullen and Bella make polite conversation. He looks at Bella's X-rays and examines her head.

Edward is snickering and smiling.

Why is Edward the love interest? He is acting like douche. Even Bella thinks so.

Carlisle tells Bella that she can go home but she can come back to the hospital if she starts having any problems.

Bella wants to go back to school because she doesn't want to be home with her father. She is pissed that Edward can go to school.

"Someone has to spread the good news that we survived," Edward said smugly.

"Somebody has to collect the bets. The majority of the student body wagered that you were roadkill."

"Actually," Dr. Cullen corrected, "most of the school seems to be in the waiting room."

A Mary Sue can't be ignored!

Only an evil blasphemer would do such a thing.

If she breaks a nail, somebody must call the National Guard!

If the Sue has a boo-boo, the entire country flocks to her to present their condolences and offer her gifts.

And why should anyone care about Tyler?

He isn't the Gary Stu or friends with the Sue. He's a filthy peasant who nearly killed the Queen of Phoenix.

Bella covers her face with her hands and moans "Oh no." Carlisle says that she can stay in the hospital if she wants.

Bella tries to leave quickly. But since she is such a klutz, she falls. Unfortunately, Carlisle catches her.

She assures him that she is fine. Carlisle signs her chart with a "flourish."

Bella tells Carlisle that Edward was standing next to her. He mumbles an agreement and then starts treating Tyler.

My intuition flickered; the doctor was in on it.

Bella wants to speak with Edward alone. Edward walks away but she runs after him.

He demands to know what Bella wants. Bella insists that "You owe me an explanation."

"I saved your life — I don't owe you anything."

I hate to say it but Sparkledouche has a point.

He doesn't owe her anything.

Edward didn't do anything wrong, he saved her life.

Usually, you owe someone an explanation if you did something wrong to someone else.

If you save someone's life, you don't.

Let's say that I punched someone in the face for no reason, I owe them an explanation.

But if I saved someone from being hit by an oncoming train, I would not.

Bella whines that he "promised." Edward is pissed off and tells her to quit bothering him.

Since Bella is right, she wants to know "the truth" and "why I'm lying for you."

Edward demands that she tells him what she thinks has happened. Bella blurts out this:

"All I know is that you weren't anywhere near me —Tyler didn't see you, either, so don't tell me I hit my head too hard. That van was going to crush us both — and it didn't, and your hands left dents in the side of it — and you left a dent in the other car, and you're not hurt at all — and the van should have smashed my legs, but you were holding it up…"

This is EXACTLY the type of babbling that a concussion victim would be spewing.

But since Bella is the Author Sue, she is 100% correct.

And previously, Bella claimed that Edward stopped the car with his shoulder.

NOW she is saying that Edward used his hands.

'Ello continuity error!

Edward gives her a look like "bitch be crazy" and this angers Bella.

"You think I lifted a van off you?" His tone questioned my sanity, but it only made me more suspicious. It was like a perfectly delivered line by a skilled actor.

If this was a line perfectly delivered by a talented actor, it would be hard to determine if it was the truth.

Bella is obviously fishing for evidence that people are lying to her.

Because if no one believes her crazy story, then they MUST be liars!

"Nobody will believe that, you know." His voice held an edge of derision now.

Smooth move. You totally didn't blow your cover.

"I'm not going to tell anybody." I said each word slowly, carefully controlling my anger.

Minus the people, she has already told.

Bella keeps harassing Edward for the truth because she claims that she doesn't "like to lie."

Bella also tells him that she isn't going to "let it go."

This isn't shocking since Bella is obsessed with Edward. They glare at each other for a bit and Bella is the first person to speak.

I was in danger of being distracted by his livid, glorious face. It was like trying to stare down a destroying angel.

We get, S. Meyer.

Edward Cullen is the most handsome guy in the universe.

Stop reminding us every five seconds.

BTW: a destroying angel is a deadly white mushroom.

"Why did you even bother?" I asked frigidly. He paused, and for a brief moment his stunning face was unexpectedly vulnerable. "I don't know," he whispered.

Because nothing says tru luv when the designated love interest doesn't know why he saved the "heroine" in the first place.

Edward walks away and Bella storms off in a huff.

The waiting room was more unpleasant than I'd feared. It seemed like every face I knew in Forks was there, staring at me.

"It's so icky that the filthy peasants are staring at me. Guards, send them away!"

Charlie rushes over to Bella and asks if she is okay.

"There's nothing wrong with me," I assured him sullenly. I was still aggravated, not in the mood for chitchat.

Bella NEVER wants to chat with the filthy peasants.

She will only be a chatty Cathy with the sparklepires.

And fuck you Bella!

Bella tells Dad that the doctor says that she is fine and that she can go home.

Charlie and Bella start walking towards the hospital doors.

She annoyed that Mike, Jessica, and Eric are there and complains that they began "to converge on us."

Bella reluctantly waves at her friends and she is relieved to be inside the cruiser.

Charlie drives in silence and for some reason doesn't put the stereo on.

And Bella is so obsessed about Edward that she "barely knew that Charlie was there."

I was positive that Edward's defensive behavior in the hall was a confirmation of the bizarre things I still could hardly believe I'd witnessed.

It couldn't possibly be that Bella hallucinated everything after hitting her head!

No! The Sue is always right!

They arrive at the house and Charlie says something.

"Um… you'll need to call Renée." He hung his head, guilty.

I was appalled. "You told Mom!"

"Sorry."

I slammed the cruiser's door a little harder than necessary on my way out.

How dreadful!

Bella was almost killed and Charlie dared to tell her mother!

The insolence!

Even though it would be disrespectful and rude for Charlie not to tell his ex-wife.

And for a character who is supposedly wise beyond her years, she loves throwing temper tantrums.

My mom was in hysterics, of course. I had to tell her I felt fine at least thirty times before she would calm down.

Bella's mom "begged" her to come home. But Bella has no intentions of leaving Forks.

I was consumed by the mystery Edward presented. And more than a little obsessed by Edward himself.

Bella thinks about Edward 24/7 and called him "mean" when he didn't pay attention to her.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. I wasn't as eager to escape Forks as I should be, as any normal, sane person would be.

Bella, you are abby normal and insane. Get that through your thick skull.

Bella decides to go to bed early. She complains that Charlie kept an eye on her and how it is "getting on my nerves."

Then she takes some Tylenol and goes to bed.

That was the first night I dreamed of Edward Cullen.

She has been obsessing about Edward since day 1.

And I bet Bella has doodled "B + E", "Mrs. Bella Cullen", "Bella Cullen", "I heart Eddy", "Bedward" and "Bella + Edward = tru luv" all over her notebooks.

#bad fiction #snark #chapter snark #anti twilight #anti bella swan #anti stephenie meyer #Anti Twilight Saga #book snark

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ourloveisforthelovely · 6 years

Text

Things Done Differently 2

A/n: Because I am such a genius I realized that I have two stories with the same title (*facepalm*). So with that being said, this is a Richard Speight Jr. RPF story that I started back in May and kind of forgot about. The first chapter will have the Second Chances title but everything from here on out will be Things Done Differently.

Warnings: RPF (don’t like RPF? Don’t read)

Words: 2,309

Link to Chapter 1

Pairings: Richard Speight Jr. x OFC

__________

Before Richard could even turn the office door opened. “Gracie! Have you talked to your father?” Richard froze hearing Andrew’s voice. Grace sighed. She didn’t even bother to stand up. She knew once that Andrew and Richard saw each other all hell was about to break loose. With a groan she reached over taking a Tylenol from her desk drawer and popping it in her mouth as Andrew walked in. “No, but Obviously he’s in trouble. Furthermore he is your father too moron.” Andrew nodded before stopping dead in his tracks seeing Richard. “Oh no, not you! Grace I thought we got rid of him!” Andrew said the last part in a hushed yet super loud whisper. Richard raised an eyebrow trying to keep his own building temper in check. He had never cared much for Andrew from day one! The guy was too pampered , too spoiled, and an all around dick! However, the last thing Grace needed was bickering. Grace leaned back in her chair taking a deep breath. “Andrew, not now!” The warning tone in her voice made her older brother back up a bit but his green eyes were still on Richard. Andrew was immediately thrown into big brother mode and ever fiber in his being was on edge. He knew good and well that Richard had no idea about Grace’s “delicate” condition but he didn’t give a damn. That was his little sister! He knew how miserable she had been and Richard wasn’t going to be getting off scot free! “What happened with Dad?” Grace asked calmly. She was hoping that she could get her brother focused back on his original reason for coming into her office. Andrew looked back to his sister. “Well he got arrested.” Grace’s mouth dropped. “Excuse me? For what?! What did he do now?” Andrew chuckled. “He was down at that country club he joined last week. Apparently he took a swing at and killed a swan. Not just any swan either sister…it was the club’s mascot swan. Dad didn’t like the way the little bastard was looking at him. Long story short the club had him arrested for assaulting their wildlife.” Grace put a hand over her face. This was getting insane! Since her father had retired from the music industry he had seemed to have lost his purpose in life. He was doing things that almost made the man seem like he had some mental illness going on. The once completely sane workaholic of a man was driving his wife and children crazy!

“This is getting out of control! Well it’s your turn to go get him. I had to go get his ass the other night when he almost got thrown out of that strip club. You should have handled that one. Walking into a strip club pregnant you get some weird looks. Why can’t he just go buy a damn car or take up some activity like couponing or knitting?”

Andrew shook his head. “I’m sorry I couldn’t go get him from the Kit Kat Club! I know I am never gonna live that down. As far as hobbies go, dad is too damn stubborn to take up knitting. Hey!!! I have an idea!” Andrew looked to Richard with a grin. “When you take yourself back to California where you belong take our dad with you so he can open a pot shop or something! The state of California can deal with him.” Grace stood at that. “Okay that’s enough. Andrew I’m coming with you.”

Grace pulled on her coat before turning to face Richard.

“I’ll see you later.”

“See ya.”

Richard replied softly. He tried to ignore the look of disapproval that Andrew was giving his sister as they walked out of the room. This was going to be one hell of a journey!

Once Grace and Andrew had walked out of the room Rob turned to Richard.

“Just what have we been missing?”

Richard shrugged,

“No idea but I have a feeling that I will be finding out soon.”

A few hours later, Grace stood in her bathroom looking at her appearance. She had spent the afternoon explaining to Andrew why she was agreeing to see Richard 0nly for her brother to say that she was making a mistake.

“Well it may make no sense to you but it does to me. You may not like what I do Andrew but I ask you to respect my decisions.”

Grace knew that Andrew didn’t like that situation at hand but after she asked him to respect her decision he dropped it.

“I may have to respect your decision Grace but that doesn’t mean that I have to like it.’

“Fair enough.”

This was the problem about having your brother as your business partner. There was too much communication and too much information on one’s personal live available for the others liking.

The doorbell ringing brought Grace out of her thoughts. She looked down at her watch that read 6:00pm.

“Right on time.”

She muttered before taking one last look at her appearance. She was thankful that Richard just happened to turn up now and not the month prior when she was getting sick all the time! At least now she looked similar to the way that she used to and not a pale ghostly looking thing.

“Now or never.”

Grace said with a deep breath as she opened the door. Richard stood on the other side looking just like he had a few hours ago. Instead of his usual calm confident expression he looked nervous beyond belief.

“Hi Grace.”

Grace caught herself staring at him and mentally chided herself.

“Hi. Come in.”

Grace turned walking into the living room with Richard on her heels. He was quiet for a moment. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know that he was beyond uncomfortable. Grace also knew that he was blaming himself for everything that happened. She knew that she would have to do some damage control soon. In all actuality nothing was his fault. To Grace, everything was hers. She should have been honest with him from the beginning. She should have told him that she didn’t want to keep their relationship secret. More importantly she should have told him when she discovered that she was pregnant.

“Grace, I have to ask what is going on with your family?”

Grace sighed before shaking her head.

“Dad retired about 3 months ago and everything has gone to hell. Everyone is so used to him always being at the studio or on the road. He is the same way. He doesn’t know what to do with himself. He’s driving my mother crazy which in turn drives Andrew and I crazy. He’s just lost all sense of direction and doesn’t know what to do with himself. In the 40 years that he and my mother have been married this is the most time that they have spent together and I think its annoying them both.”

Richard nodded.

“So you and Andrew have the studio now?”

Grace nodded.

“Yep. It’s all on us now. Being business partners with my brother can be a giant pain.”

Richard smirked.

“Well he has always been a giant pain.”

The two were silent for a few moments. Grace looked over at Richard. His eyes hadn’t left her stomach since he had sat down.

“Before you say it none of this was your fault.”

Grace finally said. Richard looked completely baffled by her comment. His amber eyes had rolled up to her face trying to figure out how none of this was his fault.

“Uh how?”

Grace sighed.

“I should have told you. I was wrong not to.”

Richard shrugged.

“You had your reasons. I definitely wasn’t up for boyfriend of the year. That night you asked me about taking out relationship to the next level…were you pregnant then?”

Grace’s green eyes looked dark for a moment.

“Yes.”

Richard leaned back into against the couch running a hand through his hair. He knew that something was different that night! Just like he suspected he wasn’t going mad! Grace was trying to tell him something. She was judging his reaction to that question to see how he would react to the news of a baby on the way….and he was blind to everything!

“I knew something was off that night. There was something about the way that you were looking at me. I knew something was wrong and I was too dumb to even act on it. That’s been bothering me since we split and now….I don’t even know what to say.”

Grace didn’t look angry. She didn’t even look upset instead her face showed nothing but worry.

“I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t make up for what you have missed. If it makes you feel better you haven’t missed anything but all day sickness and me being crabby.”

Richard reached over taking her hand in his.

“I would have taken you throwing up and crabby then been without you these past few months. Grace you know that I can’t stay away now. I really wish that you would have called me. I hate knowing that you had it in your mind that I cared so little for you that I wouldn’t have changed for our child.”

“I wouldn’t want you to! Richard, I didn’t know what to expect. Call it being stubborn or watching too many Lifetime movies but when you didn’t come after me I assumed that you didn’t care.”

Richard let his fingers stroke over her hand. He was quiet for a few moments before finally being unable to keep his mouth closed any longer.

“I about came after you….several times in fact. I should have! I didn’t ask earlier because I was still in a state of shock but what is the baby?”

Grace smiled, running her hand down her stomach.

“A girl. You have something new to get used to.”

She replied with a smile. Richard looked totally surprised with that bit of information.

“Well that is definitely going to be something new to get used to. From having all boys to having a girl thrown in the mix is going to be something completely new. What about us Grace?”

Grace looked down at her lap.

“Haven’t you moved on?”

She asked softly. Richard laughed hard at that.

“Oh hell no. Ask Rob or Matt if you don’t believe me. I have been the biggest pain in the ass that they have have had to deal with over the past few months. I couldn’t even consider being with someone else. I just want you. No secrets, nod games, and no hiding this time.”

Grace was relieved by that comment. She had been afraid that Richard would want things the way that they were before. If he had even suggested that Grace had mentally prepared herself to tell him to just leave. There was no way that she could go back to living the way that she was before! She was having difficulty hiding who her child’s father was now! There would be no way that she would be able to hide much in the future!

“I want you too Rich but like you said no funny business. I won’t put up with it.”

Richard shook his head.

“Not happening. I just want us to be happy. I think we can agree that we both made mistakes let’s just put those behind us and move on.”

Grace tightened her hold on his hand.

“I like that idea. We have 2 ½ months to get everything straightened out”

She smirked at the slightly nervous expression on Richard’s face. She was used to his usual confident self so seeing him looking this way was definitely a game changer.

“Your brother is going to shit himself when he finds out that we are back together. Can I tell him?”

Richard asked with a smirk. Grace lay her head on Richard’s shoulder enjoying the feeling of his skin on hers.

“If it makes you that happy. My parents are having a cookout tomorrow so that will be the perfect chance to tell him. Should I record this for later viewing?”

Richard looked if possible even more pleased.

“You can record anything that you want as long as your dad’s gun is on safety everything will be just fine.”

He commented. The last thing that he wanted was to take on Grace’s hot tempered, gun toting father. John D. Carmichael was not the man to piss off then live to tell the tell.

“For what it’s worth Rich my dad doesn’t have anything against you. I told dad everything that happened and he has been trying to get me to contact your for months now but you know how stubborn I can be.”

Grace said as she stood walking to the bay window looking out into the quiet street. Richard nodded as he watched her carefully for a moment before going to his lover’s side. He was happy that he could say the word lover and Grace in a sentence together again!

“Yeah, I kind of have some experience with that side. As far as your dad goes, if he is cool with me and won’t shoot at me when I step out of the car then that is fine with me! As far as us though Gracie….we’re good?”

Grace looked up at him with those green eyes that had stolen his heart long ago.

“Yes. You can kiss me now.”

Richard didn’t need any more encouragement then that to lean down and press his lips to hers.

________ @sumara62

@greenappleeyes

@tas898

@sherala007

@jannalionheart

@authoressskr

#richard speight jr #Supernatural RPF #Richard Speight Jr RPF

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adriata-archive · 6 years

Text

You Can Hear it in the Silence (12/?)

Modern AU. “We’ve been best friends for years and we act like an old married couple but we’d never date each other…right?”

1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // 7 // 8 // 9 // 10 // 11 // ff.net

The next few days are a blur. Their friends start looking after Killian in shifts, afraid of what he’ll do when left alone, but Emma is a constant, no matter who is around. She’s the only one who can tell that deep down, underneath all of the worry and the hurt, he’s furious.

“Killian, come on, talk to me. You’re not angry at yourself, are you? We’ve gone over that,” Emma says quietly. She had spent the first night convincing Killian that he was not to blame for the accident, that it wasn’t his fault for telling Milah that he couldn’t be involved with someone who was already in a relationship, that she had to fight for what she really wanted. She had thought that she’d finally broken through to him, but he was pacing, and Killian never paced.

“No, it’s not me I’m angry with. It’s him.” There’s a hate in Killian’s eyes that she’s never seen in all the years she’s known him, and it’s hard for her to recognize the gentle boy who still insists on capturing and releasing spiders in the wild when she’d rather exterminate the entire species.

“Who’s him?” Emma asks, bewildered.

“The bloody crocodile who thought it fit to play god and crash into her car!” Killian shouts, his hands going to his hair. Emma doesn’t think and flinches before she can catch herself, but this outburst is better than the seething, quiet anger that she knows he’s been struggling with.

Killian notices the small movement and sighs, reining in his frustration. “I’m sorry, love. It’s not you I’m angry with. I just wish I could do something, but because he has money and power he gets off scotch free while Milah’s in the hospital fighting for her life! Her own bloody father won’t do anything for fear of the repercussions to his damn company!”

“I know. But Killian, there are things you can do so you don’t have to sit in my apartment driving yourself insane. Aren’t you the one who always says that you want to pursue law because you believe in justice?” She’s set him on a warpath and she knows it, but she also knows that he’ll do something he regrets if he continues to be influenced by uninhibited rage.

“I need to make some calls,” Killian says suddenly. He hasn’t spent the last couple of years networking and doing internships for nothing, after all. He stops and kisses Emma’s head before rushing out her door. “Thanks, Swan.”

He’s gone in a flash, and she makes a few calls of her own.

Between Emma’s reputation as one of the best bail bondsperson in Boston and Killian’s contacts in the courthouse, they begin to build a case against Milah’s former lover, the man responsible for her coma. A man as rich as Mr. Gold won’t be easy to put behind bars, but if there’s anything Emma and Killian are, it’s stubborn.

David tries to help, too. When people stop by the animal shelter, he tells them about the accident, how law enforcement currently isn’t persecuting Gold, and asks them if they won’t mind signing a petition to get someone, anyone, to pursue the case. Walsh keeps a petition sheet in his store because Emma asks him to, but he doesn’t try and push it the way David does.

Right after the accident, Walsh had been exceedingly understanding when it came to Emma’s concern about Killian. A week later, she can see his patience fading, but her best friend needs her and if Walsh wants to be in her life, he has to learn to deal with that.

Besides, he had once told her that the thing he loves most about her is her loyalty to her friends, and she had to believe that was still true. She didn’t have the time or emotional capacity to think otherwise.

The story about Milah and Mr. Gold goes viral on social media, thanks to Mary Margaret and Ruby. Emma hadn’t expected to be so distraught about the situation, but she had grown to like Milah, and she hated how Gold was affecting Killian.

“Emma, you aren’t dressed for dinner,” Walsh says, walking into her living room with a frown. Her hair is in a sloppy ponytail and she’s wearing sweats and one of Killian’s shirts, and when Walsh sees that, his frown deepens. “Did you forget we had a date?”

Emma takes off her glasses and rubs her eyes. “Oh God, Walsh, yeah. I’m sorry. One of my contacts offered some information on Gold that might be useful and I got caught up emailing them.”

“I see.”

Emma opens her eyes and peers up at him. “Are you upset?”

Walsh takes a deep breath and starts laughing, but there’s no humor in it. “Are you kidding me, Emma? Of course I am!”

“Okay…” Emma mutters, trying to not let her own temper rise. “And why would that be, pray tell?”

“All you can talk about is this goddamn case! It’s taken over all of our lives - I never asked for that! I own a furniture store, for Christ’s sake. I shouldn’t be on a crusade to put some billionaire in jail, and neither should you! Killian’s somehow managed to get all of us sucked into his own personal tirade, and I refuse to be a part of it anymore.” Walsh is seething, all of his usual charm and tact gone, replaced by wild eyes filled with frustration and jealousy.

“Personal tirade?” Emma repeats indignantly. “His girlfriend is in a coma because some jackass refused to accept the fact that she was leaving him and purposefully crashed into her car. How are you not angry about that?”

“I refuse to put my life on hold because of this, Emma! I refuse to put our relationship on hold!”

“Our relationship isn’t on hold!” Emma shouts back, gaping at him.

“Really? Then why is it that every time we’re together, you can only think about Killian, and what he needs, what he wants? You might as well be in a relationship with him!”

“How can you even say that?” Emma asks, the pitch of her voice growing higher with indignation. “He’s my best friend!”

“Oh, please, we can all tell that it’s way more than that!”

“Do not try to taint our friendship with your own petty jealousy! I can’t believe that Milah’s barely alive and you’re making this all about you.”

“It’s him or me, Emma.”

Emma stops cold, staring at him in disbelief. “What?”

“You heard me. Make your choice. I refuse to be in a relationship with you when you’re so concerned over another man.”

This time, it’s Emma who laughs, and the look she gives Walsh is devoid of any emotion. “The very fact that you’re asking me to choose means there’s not even a decision to be made. Get out, and don’t call me.”

Walsh’s transformation would have dumbfounded Emma just a few days ago, but their argument had revealed him to be insecure and vindictive, and she wanted nothing to do with him.

The glare Walsh directs at her might have cowed the lost little girl Emma used to be, desperate for love and affirmation, but not the woman Emma is now, the one who knows she doesn’t need Walsh for either of those things, not when she has friends like Killian. The thought is enough to bring a wry smile to her face, and she gives Walsh a sarcastic wave of her fingertips before he slams the door behind him.

“Just when I was finally starting to like him,” David remarks dryly when Emma recounts her breakup with Walsh to him and Mary Margaret the next day.

“Yeah, well, hidden beneath all of that charm was the whiny, self-absorbed flying monkey Killian originally said he was. Don’t tell him, though. He’s got enough on his mind with Milah - I don’t want him to think this is his fault,” Emma says, sighing.

“How is he?” Mary Margaret asks, her eyes full of concern.

“I haven’t seen him in days,” David adds. He would never admit it out loud, but Killian is practically a brother to him, and he’s one of the few people he trusts to be a part of Emma’s life.

“He said he couldn’t sleep in his own bed,” Emma tells them, closing her eyes at the memory of how broken Killian had seemed when he finally admitted why he’d been staying at her apartment instead of his own. “It reminds him too much of Milah.”

“He must be hurting so much,” Mary Margaret whispers, and the sight of her tears are almost enough to bring some of Emma’s to the surface.

“I’ve never seen him like this before. It’s not just justice he’s after anymore; it’s revenge. He’s gonna kill himself trying to hurt Gold.”

“You don’t mess with a man that powerful and get away unscathed,” David agrees. “He’s starting to get reckless.”

“I don’t think he cares what he does, as long as Gold suffers too,” Emma says, unconsciously mimicking Killian when she runs her hands over her face and through her hair. David raises an eyebrow and glances at Mary Margaret, who shrugs and fights a smile, despite her worry over the situation.

Emma bites at a fingernail, something she hasn’t done since she was a teenager. Despite her efforts and intentions, she can only do so much to help Killian, and all of them combined lack the influence necessary to bring down Gold. She’s helpless and she hates it, hates that she has to watch her best friend suffer and can’t do anything about it. She’s kept the tears bottled in for two weeks, pushing her own feelings aside to take care of Killian and make sure he gets through each day. She starts to sob and can’t stop, and she doesn’t know what she’s crying about, who she’s crying about, but she cries like her heart is broken, and maybe it is. Maybe for Milah, maybe for herself, but almost certainly for Killian.

Mary Margaret and David wrap her in a bear hug, David’s hand automatically coming up to cradle Emma’s head. They’ve been worried about her, too, but knew better than to voice their concerns about her when Killian was hurting. Whether she knew it or not, Emma had insisted on putting Killian’s needs above her own from the moment she met him.

“God, I’m sorry,” Emma says remorsefully, her eyes red and puffy and her face streaked with tears. “I shouldn’t be crying. What Killian is going through is ten times worse than whatever it is I’m dealing with right now.”

“Emma, he wouldn’t want you to ignore your feelings. You just broke up with Walsh - you’re allowed to cry. Even if that wasn’t the case, you’re still allowed to cry. It’s not selfish for you to take care of yourself too,” Mary Margaret reminds her, wiping away a lingering tear. “Killian would be overcome with guilt if he found out that you wouldn’t let yourself hurt just because he’s hurting. You two are allowed to be upset at the same time, you know.” The last part is said in a sardonic tone that, coming from Mary Margaret, is enough to get Emma to chuckle.

“I just hate seeing him like this,” Emma admits. “He looks hollow. I think the only thing keeping him going is his need for revenge, and that’s far from healthy.”

“Maybe you should tell him that,” Mary Margaret suggests.

“Somehow I don’t think he’ll be receptive to that particular insight,” Emma says with a little more bite than she intended. “Sorry, again. I know I’m being insufferable.”

Mary Margaret shrugs, and her smile is a touch too innocent. “We’re all insufferable when it comes to the people we love.”

Emma knows the love Mary Margaret is talking about is the platonic, familial kind - at least, she tries to convince herself that. Still, she pretends like she didn’t hear the all too mild suggestion her friend is hinting at, and is only betrayed by the slight tinge of pink in her cheeks.

#cs ff #cs au #captain swan #ouat #ouat ff #my writing #you can hear it in the silence #just gonna spam everyone with updates #*writing

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ashadeofpemberley · 7 years

Text

The Perfect Christmas

For @anneelliotscat my dear giftee!

Prompt: “Well, that wasn’t so bad.”

Rating: G (Literally this might give you a cavity)

Summary: A super short and sweet ficlet about Gideon’s first Christmas.

AN: Sorry for any mistakes, I procrastinated to the max and didn’t have time to send it off to a beta! Hope you enjoy anyway!

Rumpelstiltskin slumped back in his chair with his sleeping son resting in his lap. Having never really been a fan of the holidays either in Storybrroke of the Enchanted Forest, he still couldn’t wrap his head how in a matter of two weeks his wife had managed to turn their home from a cluttered mess of Gideon’s ever-present toys and magical antiquities into a cosy Christmas wonderland that would have made even Martha Stewart turn positively green.

This was Gideon’s first Christmas and as far as Belle Gold was concerned, it was to be the grandest affair since the invention of glitter. The library had been ransacked for information about what would constitute the perfect family Christmas. Luckily for them, family was something they had in abundance. The whole clan had been enlisted to help with preparations right down to the former Evil Queen, who had been charged with bringing an assortment of apple-flavored pastries to dinner. Despite her recent good behavior, most of the guests, save Henry, opted for the pumpkin pie Ruby had brought with her from Granny’s.

Baelfire and Emma had been put in charge of finding a tree for the family room, and in hindsight Gold could admit that it might have been a mistake to give his daughter-in-law an axe, sheriff or not. For not having had very many family Christmases, both of them had very, very strong opinions about what constituted a good tree.

“Are you insane?! This one looks like someone you’d see in a Peanuts special!”

“Well at least mine will fit through the door! Yours needs its own zip code!”

After six hours of heated debate and threats of frostbite, the couple returned to the house hauling in what could quite possibly have been the largest pine tree ever created along with a three foot sapling that had lost a fair amount of its needles on the drive back. It had taken several mugs of hot chocolate with cinnamon and a promise to simply buy a plastic one for next year from Belle to get the two back on to speaking terms long enough to do some light trimming. Gideon even participated as he “helped” put the stars on top with a little assistance from his older brother Bae, who was by far the tallest of the Gold men (though Henry was giving him a run for his money.)

After the trees had been suitably drowned in tinsel, various holiday knick knacks they all had found in the attic from his days spent as Mr. Gold, pawnbroker, curse victim, and apparent reindeer enthusiast, Rumple thought the worst was over.

Then came the food.

Now, Rumpelstiltskin was no stranger to a good feast. He had seen plenty in his time as the Dark One, and plenty more after whatever curse they were under currently was broken, but nothing could have prepared him for the absolute sugar-coated insanity that had descended upon his kitchen for the last two weeks. One thing he had always admired about Belle was her tenacious spirit. If she wanted something, she would go after it whatever it took. Unfortunately, that spirit was the same one that told her that making enough food to feed Storybrooke and a good portion of Maine was an excellent idea. If the oven could speak, it probably would have asked for an attorney or a therapist by the end of the first week. By the end of the second week of marathon type cooking, Rumplestiltskin could confidently say that a grand total of two pigs, three lambs, four turkeys, seven Cornish hens, and one terribly unlucky duck had all met an untimely end in his kitchen. Normally, Belle was an incredibly gentle person, but she had tenderized that duck like it owed her money.

Of course, that only covered the main courses. His wife had outsourced several side dishes to various guests since her kitchen was currently serving as the clove-scented hell of the animal kingdom. Snow White had graciously taken up the task of making the potatoes…all eight variations of them. Potatoes had been scalloped, baked, roasted, mashed, smashed (“Yes there’s a difference, Rumple!”), fried, shredded, and covered with cheese. At promptly five o’clock this morning Mr. Gold watched as a seemingly endless parade of dwarves marched dutifully to his kitchen, each of them armed with an aluminum pan fill to the brim with some combination of starch, butter, and salt. Looking back, he really shouldn't have been surprised. The Nolan’s and their dwarfish friends personally catered Emma and Baelfire’s wedding reception in a matter of two days, it was a wonder that hadn’t caused another famine with two weeks to work.

Henry had volunteered to make the gravy and stuffing (with the supervision of Regina), Leroy offered to bring drinks (including non-alcoholic options for those who were still breastfeeding), and Mulan had kindly brought in an assortment of fruit from her latest travels. Ariel and her husband had been sent an invitation but unfortunately had to decline due to a recent hurricane, they did however send a lovely (albeit a little soggy) fruitcake as an apology and a promise to visit at New Year’s.

That left the cookies. Although Regina was taking care of the rest of the desserts, Belle has insisted that she be the one to make and decorate cookies. He had to admit, the spool-shaped ones were certainly clever, and Henry adored the book-shaped ones, Belle had even managed a batch of swans for Emma, but it was Gideon who had been positively delirious with excitement as he mounted an ungodly amount of frosting and sprinkles onto each of his wizard hat cookies. He was certainly his father’s son. Rumple hadn’t bothered trying to count the number of cookies that had been made, consumed, and then remade within the last two weeks, if for no other reason than he was convinced they were spawning when he wasn’t looking.

All in all it was a party to rival even the grandest event in the Enchanted Forest, let alone Storybrooke.

Guests had started to trickle in right after lunch. Bad and Emma were the first to arrive, but only because they were each trying to ensure that the other wasn’t planning on sabotaging their respective trees. Ruby had brought along Dr. Hopper as her guest, to absolutely no one’s surprise. Those two had been dancing around each other long before the first curse took place, though being no stranger to silent pining, Gold supposed he should keep that little observation to himself. Mulan had carpooled with the dwarves, seeing as she didn’t have a car in this world and there were no appropriate places to park a horse in the Gold’s driveway. The Nolan/Mills clan had arrived last seeing as there was some debate about how best to transport five dozen apple turnovers with three gallons of gravy.

If you were to tell Rumpelstiltskin a year ago, that he would be having Christmas dinner with the Charmings, the former Evil Queen, a Chinese warrior, a werewolf, a former cricket, several dwarves, the Savior, the son he’d lost, his grandson, his True Love and his newborn son he probably would have asked what curse they would be under and how much alcohol there was in this new curse.

After dinner was over and everyone was properly comatose with food, they all adjourned to the living room to watch the children open their gifts. Gideon had received several new books from his mama and papa along with a small cape that was a gift from his big brother (“You know, so he can practice that dramatic woosh thing,”) and a tiny dreamcatcher from Emma and Henry.

The festivities continued on long into the night. Stories were shared, jokes were told, and a few even decided to dance (that might have been due to Leroy’s special eggnog though).

The last of the guests had finally left just as Gideon settled himself into a deep sleep on his papa’s lap.

Looking around all he could see was colorful paper, stray cups and plates, and the odd scarf left behind. And strangely it didn’t bother him at all. Seeing his wife so content surrounded by family and friends was more than he could have ever wished for her.

There was only one thing left.

“Rumple, look it’s snowing!!”

Gently removing himself from his son’s sleeping form, Gold smiled as he walked over to where Belle had been collecting the last of the plates by the bay window.

She looked at him quizzically, “I thought it wasn’t supposed to snow until next week?”

He shrugged, “Well, I was put in charge of exterior decoration.”

“Rumple, you didn’t use magic did you? You know how I feel about altering weather patterns…”

“Sweetheart, I promise I didn’t use a single drop of magic on this.”

“Then how,”

“Let’s just say,” Rumple cut her off with a quick kiss to her lips, “I called in a favor from a certain Snow Queen who happened to be in town recently.”

Belle only smiled as she shook her head.

“This wasn’t so bad, was it Rumple?” She asked resting her head on his shoulder as they both looked out at the softly falling flakes. His only reply was another kiss to the side of her head.

If having their home be covered in tinsel and obscure family members for one day a year made his family this happy then, well, that wasn’t so bad at all.

#rumbelle christmas in july #anneelliotscat #rcij #ashadeofpemberley #my writing

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euphoric-melancholyy · 7 years

Text

On Sleepless Roads (3/3)

Summary: A S6 Canon divergence. There’s an irony, she supposes, that something created to pull one into eternal sleep, is now a barrier to any sleep. Her body fights against the maddening exhaustion. She’s just so tired, so fucking tired and she can’t keep going like this.

Ao3 FF.net Part 1 Part 2

It made sense, really. After Killian’s explanation that the Sandman is a character in her dream and therefore could only be defeated from within it. They were still struggling, though, with questions of how and why, especially because the sandman’s powers blurred the line between reality and hallucination.

(Especially because the information came from a page randomly appearing in a book.)

Someone was helping them, or relenting in their torture to give Emma a leg up for once. Although, there was always the creeping fear that the intel was false, an answer that leads them into a trap. Her gut says it isn’t, to trust that this is real, but--

“It’s a sleeping curse.” Regina chimes in. They’re all sitting around Emma’s living room - her parents and baby brother, Regina, Henry, Violet, and Killian. Emma’s never had her house as a meeting place to plan their operations before. Even throughout this, they met at Granny’s, or the library, the loft, or the station. It’s a weird feeling, having a home she can share like this. She thinks she wouldn’t mind it if she didn’t feel like she belonged in an episode of The Walking Dead, her brain fried and body slug from sleep deprivation and nightmares that leave her injured without physical proof. “Not like the one I cast. This one’s specific to the sandman. There’s different dream realms too.”

“So we find how to get to the sandman’s dream realm and what? Diplomatically ask him to stop torturing my daughter?” Charming asks.

“Not exactly. See, the realm is specific to Emma and what haunts her. The Sandman is powerful; he can play on the problems in your subconscious. Originally, this was used for good, to give people good dreams and hope. There’s only one other recorded case of a sandman, or sandwoman, using their powers for evil.” Regina pauses, making sure she has her audience’s full attention. “I think I figured out how to get to him though.”

“No.”

Killian frowns at his Swan’s protest. “Emma, love. Someone has to go.”

“No one is going through this, but me. I can fix it. I can defeat him.”

“No offense, Emma, but you’ve had your chance to fix it and you haven’t. You need our help. You can’t do this alone.” Regina says.

“And what happens if one of you gets hurt or killed in this dream realm? I can’t let you do this. You’re not under the curse. It could hurt you beyond what it does to me.” Poorly veiled panic rises in her voice, the caring words escaping harsh as the pieces of Regina’s plan click. Nightly, she’s suffered the pain of what it feels like to almost die, floating on a line so close she thought she had more than once. A line sewn with pain and adrenaline, regrets, and the overwhelming sensation of burning, sharp and aching in its pursuit to torment her. There were too many unknowns, anyway.

Her eyes find Killian’s, fierce determination masking their brooding anger, and she knows that he will be the one to go under. Unwelcome flashbacks of his demise reappear, the real version and that of her dream; she’s seen him in this realm before and she longs to never experience it again. True love’s kiss has yet to break the Sandman’s grip. What if it’s the same for him? If he doesn’t wake up, or suffers the same fate as she. . .No. This is supposed to be her job - she’s the savior. They can’t come running to her rescue because she’s too damn weak to do what she was made for. “No. Please, Killian.”

“Swan, you would do the same. Watching you suffer has been the hardest thing I’ve had to face. I’m going under the sleeping curse and you’re going to wake me. And do you know why you’re going to wake me?”

She smiles at him then, lashes fluttering up to meet the blue of his eyes, no longer hooded in anger, but shining with something lighter, happier. “Because we’re true love.”

“Aye. That we are. And true love is the most powerful magic of all.”

Regina pulls a strand of Emma’s hair without warning - earning the Queen a grumbled What the hell - that she laces through one of Mary Margaret’s sewing needles. “I need this to get Hook there. This and the sand that’s in your eyes when you wake up. When you fall asleep, Hook will gather the sand and tether it to this needle. Once he pricks himself with it, he should appear in your dream.”

So they wait. Emma lays her head on the cushion of the couch, face turned away from her expectant audience. They’re hovering, consuming oxygen and producing a sweltering heat. A week ago, she’d have been able to easily fall into sleep’s embrace, but now. . .

Now her heartbeat quickens, smothering her in doubts and fears, while they watch on.

She’s grateful when Snow notices. “Why don’t you go and try to sleep in your bed upstairs? It might be easier.”

“Yeah, good idea. Thanks mom.”

Killian follows her with soft steps and a gentle hand that guides her up to their bed. He pulls her shoes from her feet, working his way up to her sweater. “Relax, Swan. This will all be over soon.”

“I can’t relax.”

“Okay, don’t relax. Just...close your eyes.”

She complies, listening to the shuffle of denim and leather as it falls to the floor. She feels the mattress shift with the weight of his body, hand curling around her shoulders as he massages them. It feels nice, to be cherished like this. It grounds her, if only a little.

“The ocean is very treacherous being, “ Killian begins. Of course he’d tell her about his time at sea, the place that calms his soul and now hers. She smiles up at him, resting her head on his chest. He knows her, truly knows her in a way that no one has before. His voice is a lighthouse as if she were lost in the sea he speaks of. “testing your will and determination as it throws you against the wood,” he continues. “But not always. Oftentimes it’s calm, the colors of the sunset or sunrise reflecting off it’s waves. And beneath that there are fish, mermaids and creatures of the sea, treasures beyond a man’s greatest imagination. Can you picture it Swan?”

“I can.”

“You’re quite like her.”

“Hm?”

“The ocean, love. You’re equally fierce and beautiful, with the strength to take out fleets of sailors.”

“Shut up, Casanova.” She laughs through her words - the laugh that comes in bursts, radiant and unbidden, showcasing her dimples - before nuzzling closer.

(She didn’t know she was still capable of such a laugh, muscles feeling weak and dying for rest.)

There’s an irony, she supposes, that something created to pull one into eternal sleep, is now a barrier to any sleep. Her body fights against the maddening exhaustion. She’s just so tired, so fucking tired and she can’t keep going like this. She wants --

She wants it to be over. His hand feels nice, massaging the knots in her shoulder and down her back, nails lightly scratching at her hair.

It’s not instantaneous, her descent into slumber. Though the vibration of his voice against her skin calmed her anxious heart, settled her into a place of home, it wasn’t a magical cure. She tossed and turned, grunts of frustration that preceded reassurances and kisses to her head filling the space between them. But it did come, and once it did, a world opened up before her eyes.

-/-/-

He finds her in a castle, walls lined with sharp rock. It has grooves and crevices that form at points and claw marks ravaging every surface. There’s a panic sitting in the air; he can feel it stiffening his muscles and quickening his heart. It reminds him of Neverland - as if there’s another layer of magic laced within this curse. Different hues of blue and black wash the stone. The rooms are emptied of furniture and light, a giant abandoned maze that has his eyes searching for something, anything he can find. Her name escapes his lips, once, twice, three times, each echoing off the walls in dismayed return.

Minutes pass before he gets a response that is not his own. “Killian, get out of here! Run.” He can hear her as if she’s surrounding him at all sides, strained and exhausted; the epitome of the panicked ambiance that lies within this dream.

So he runs.

He runs and fights against the delusions of a sleeping mind. He runs and runs, feet pounding against the pavement never fast or quick enough as he winds through corners, each one feeling the same. The deja vu alone is enough to drive him insane. That is, until he sees her. She’s lying against a pillar, blood seeping from her arm.

“When I said run, I meant away from him,” she points to the beast that’s roaring back to life behind them. He had been so focused on her, he hadn’t noticed the cause of the pain - the dragon eyeing its newest victim. But Emma’s black sweater is torn, patches of yellow and purple skin replacing the fabric, dark enough to match the scales of the beast behind them. Her head bears the worst of what he can discern from his limited view, a small gash opening around a knot that’s already formed and blood slowly making its way to her lap.

“Emma.” Her name is a whisper, a prayer to whatever god can help them leave this hell. He had only seen the aftermath, the glassy fatigued eyes and agonized screams as she curled into herself. Not until now was he able to see the wounds of what she felt. Her reality of what was happening. This was the invisible pain that stole her sleep and tormented her psychologically, physically, emotionally, now in all its glory. He feels sick to his stomach, the knot that forms no less painful than a punch to the gut. But he pushes it down. He can deal with his guilt later. Now he has to help her, to rescue them both from these demented dreams. “I had no idea, Em.” Killian uses the curve of his hook to brush her matted hair behind her ear, making no effort to conceal the tears that slip down his cheek.

“You need to get out of here. Killian, please. Now. Get out--”

He ignores her protests, sweeping her crippled form into his arms. But it’s too late. And he watches as the dragon engulfs the castle in flames.

-/-/-

They land outside the gate of their house. To her surprise, she feels no fire, but the ache from her earlier battle remains.

“How?” Emma asks. She falters as she tries to stand, leaning against the fence for support.

“I don’t know, love.” Killian responds. His eyes go wide as he stands to meet her. The bruises from earlier have turned darker, with more appearing in the exposed areas of skin. She tries to magic it away, her blood tasting of metallic as it drips down her forehead, but she’s pretty sure her wrist is broken and body too weak to support her supernatural attempts at healing. Everything in her aches, mingling with the sharp pain of her open wounds. Feeling like hell is an understatement, but it’s the nausea overtaking her that’s winning her attention.

Killian reaches her in one long stride, standing at her front catch her should she fall. While he bears no physical injuries, his eyes are as pained at the sight as she feels. But there’s something else too, something she can’t quite place in the way he looks at her. (She thinks it might be a glimmer of hope, but for what, she’s not sure.) He pulls her into his chest and she relishes in his gentle touch. If magic can’t heal her, she’s pretty sure this could. In the distance, she can hear glass shatter. It’s muffled by his hug and maybe a concussion, so she ignores it and runs her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

“This was too easy.” He says, stepping back to look into her eyes.

“What was too easy?”

“Your dream. This is your dream realm, love. We aren’t safe here.”

“Killian, that’s insane. This isn’t--”

Immediately, she knows it’s Henry’s scream that cuts her off. Suddenly, he appears on the porch with his neck strained and head lifted up as he is strangled by an unknown force. Emma starts to run to him, but Killian’s arm pulls her back. Delirious with confusion, she pushes him away, the force of it causing her to stumble back into him. It only enrages her further. She has a mind to sweep his leg Karate Kid style, knock him to the ground, but this is Killian. Her Killian. It doesn't make sense. He would help her. Help Henry. He loves Henry and it just doesn't add up --

“This must be it, this must be the test.” Killian says.

“Let me get my son!” She tries to free herself, throwing her beaten body forward with all her weight. “Henry!” she calls. It’s a tired, angry cry that coils with the panic in her stomach.

“Emma,” he takes her wrist and turns her toward him. Wild eyed desperation is what meets his eyes as she tries to understand. Why isn’t he helping? Henry needs them, needs her. Henry--

“This is a dream. Just like the ones you’ve been having.”

“No, no this is real. Henry - Henry’s--”

“Henry is back at home with your family. You’re sleeping. If this were real, I would be doing everything in my power to rescue your boy. Look at me, Swan.”

She listens, tearing her eyes away from the scene playing out in front of her, if only for a moment. While she’s felt her heart literally split in half, there is no pain that can compare to this. Like glass cutting into the arteries as it flattens under the pressure of a lifetime's worth of love and loss. There’s a part of her, as subtle as a ticking clock in a loud room, that’s something close to believing her teary eyed true love. Killian’s eyes plead with hers, desperation in the furrow of his brow. She wants to believe it and maybe, believing it is what will make it true. Henry told her that and it saved him the first time.

“Do you trust me?” Killian asks. In any other situation, she’d chastise his question, but this. . .

She nods, tears streaming down her face. “What do I do?”

“This is a dream, the only real thing in it is you and me. Fight against it, fight against the pain that’s the only way this is gonna end.”

She can’t see what’s choking him, only watch as he struggles to breathe and the lack of oxygen threatens to take his life. “This isn’t real, this isn’t real” she repeats over and over, hoping that each tear stained word becomes more convincing. Afraid that looking away will show she’s fallen into the trap of this false reality, she watches on. Killian’s rings leave marks against her fingers as she holds his hand in a death grip, his hooked arm around her middle. She can feel her chest constrict, heart shattering into a million pieces as each second passes. “This isn’t real, this isn't. . .” Her voice breaks on a sob as Henry’s body falls to the ground. It wasn't real.

And then her son disappears in a puff of smoke, black and cruel and screaming of death. In his place stands a man, tanned and mystical, with brown curls that reach his shoulders. He’s donning a hooded robe, intricate designs made of black and gold sand weaving their way through the fabric. With his appearance, Emma can feel the pain of her wounds evaporate, bruises vanish into the paleness of her skin and sticky, dried blood lift away as open wounds close. It’s instant relief and she sighs as the alleviation soothes her muscles. And though his presence brings a physical healing, she doesn’t dare trust it. She doesn’t dare let go of Killian until her foe speaks.

“Congratulations, Miss Swan. You broke my spell.”

“Go to hell.”

“I think we’d both agree this is worse than hell. At least for you. You are a brave one though.”

“Why did you do this to me?” There’s a desperation she lets escape from beneath the anger that’s boiling over. She needs to wake up, needs to see Henry alive and well and smiling. But she also needs answers.

“Me? I’m just a hired hand. You have no idea how lonely it can be when you’re cursed to the realm of dream until death. Sometimes I like to play games, it keeps me entertained.”

“Who hired you?”

“Well, I suppose the game is over.” Killian tenses behind her, jaw clenching as he balls his hand into a fist. He’s as ready, if not more, to kill the son of a bitch who has put them through this. She clasps her hand over the clenched fist, the small gesture not necessarily meaning stop, but rather wait.

“Spit it out, Sandy.” Emma says.

“Jafar.”

“What did--”

“Your loverboy here stole his true love. But that’s his story to tell, not mine. This has been fun, Emma. I must now bid you both goodbye.” The Sandman throws a handful of sand in her direction and before she can protest, she awakes.

-/-/-

She had almost forgotten what it felt like to awaken in a better reality - that dreams are simply dreams that haunt, pleasure, or bewilder you in the waking hours - and not a physical ache, not always. There’s an emotional tear though, still pressing on the corners of her heart, that has her running down the stairs in search of her son. She finds him at the kitchen table, along with the rest of her family, and wraps him in a hug. It wasn’t real.

“Woah, mom. Everything okay? What happened? Is the curse over?” She laughs at the bombardment of her son’s questions, ruffling his hair in response.

“Yeah, kid. It’s over.”

“Where’s Killian?” Henry asks. She can’t help the upward tilt of her lips at this being one of the first thing he notices, her heart warming at the thought.

“I haven’t woke him yet. I just needed to see you.”

Henry accepts her answer without a reply, instead squeezing her tighter. While it may have not been reality, she knows watching him die will not easily be forgotten. For now, this hug is enough, his voice deeper than it used to be reassuring her of his presence and his life. So she lets go and kisses his forehead before turning back to wake her other true love.

Since living together, Emma hasn’t gotten the chance to truly enjoy the nauseating couple-y things that her and Killian should be doing. Between dying and curses, Dark Ones and nightmares depriving them both of sleep (albeit in different ways), she hasn’t soaked in this happiness. But as she winds the corner to their bedroom and finds him sleeping, arm draped over the side of the bed, she can’t help but smile. He looks so peaceful, snuggled into a mountain of pillows and blankets. Her thumb traces his forehead, pushing stray hairs out of his face. Threats still loom, but with Killian by her side, she’s ready to start their happy beginning. She leans down and kisses him, prepared to battle whatever demons from his past have reemerged.

“Swan,” he whispers in awe, rainbow light sweeping over the house, making their hearts light and full. It’s a magic that leaves them in pure bliss with it’s power and light. She pulls him up to a sitting position, a soft smile to challenge his grimace.

“Smile, Captain. Most people do when their true love wakes them from a curse.” She punctuates her words with a light shove. He listens, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes. Emma turns her head, inspecting him, while her thumb traces his jaw. “It’s over, you know.”

“All of that pain, it was because of me. Of what I did. The man I was. . .”

“Killian, I don’t care. It wasn’t your fault, you can’t put that on yourself. But now we have the chance to right a wrong, to apologize for whatever happened.” She pauses, lacing her fingers with his. “ I need to know what you did but if you think I didn’t go into this relationship knowing that there were many things in your past that you aren’t proud of, you’re wrong. I know the man you are and I love that man, no matter what it is he used to do.”

Killian sighed, leaning into her touch as his strength. “Jafar had a very powerful scepter. It hypnotizes people and I wanted to use it on the Crocodile. But before I could use it, I met Cora and eventually forgot about it. And then I met you. . .” He gives her a melancholy smile. “He begged me not to take it, said his true love was stuck inside the scepter. All I cared about was my revenge, I had already lost Milah, so if I couldn’t have love then no one could. I’m so sorry, Emma.”

His skin is rough beneath her fingers as she caresses his face, gently outlining his silhouette. He looks so crushed, broken from the weight of sins he now regrets (she knows the feeling), and she wants to wash it all away. Erase the pain and heartbreak. “I know you are. Let’s go meet Jafar, see if we can give him his true love back. Do you still have the scepter?”

“It’s hidden in the Jolly Rodger.”

Emma shoots him a small smile, tugging at his arm. “Get dressed and we’ll go get it.”

-/-/-

Emma stares at the hand lettering on Granny’s guestbook, thumb tracing the curves and indentations of names she’s grown up hearing, seeing, without truly knowing they were real. But they’re all here, sleeping on the same crappy mattresses she once had, all with a variation of a familiarity in their stories. Their life had paused, stuck in a land where their narratives would no longer play out, but now it was time for the clock to start ticking again.

She stops when she sees his name, Jafar, room 221. There’s a hesitance as she grips his scepter, Killian’s hand at her back urging her forward. “Thank you, Granny!” Emma offers.

“You’re welcome, honey. Go do what you need and get some rest. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do.”

Emma nods in the widow’s direction and continues on her way. She can feel Killian’s nervous energy from behind her. He’s staring a little too intensely at the door, clenching and unclenching his fist. As Emma raises her own fist to knock, they’re enveloped in thick red smoke, transported next to the pond.

“What the hell?” Emma mutters, more to herself than anyone. As many times as she’s used her own magic to teleport herself from one place to another, it’s always disorienting when you're not expecting it. She's grateful for the familiarity of where they are, though she hasn't ventured back to this particular location since going to the Underworld. At the edge of the water, she sees Jafar smirking in their direction, his new scepter glowing bright.

“I heard you were looking for me. You’re looking awfully tired, Savior, Hook.”

“We broke your curse!” Emma shouts, but it’s too weak, too tired to be anything close to intimidating.

“Ah, so it would seem.”

“We’ve got it, your scepter. Isn’t that what this whole thing was about?”

“Oh Emma, I truly thought you were smarter than that. It must be the lack of sleep getting to you. Let me lay it out in black and white. This was about revenge. Hook took my love, so I vowed to take his.”

“What if we can give her back to you?” Killian interjects. “What if Emma can free her from the scepter?” Looking to the ground and back up with a dramatic roll of his head, Killian lets out a sigh of frustration. He pauses, then collects himself, his anger, and softens his voice. “I’m sorry, mate. I’m sorry I took her. Let me, let us do this for you.”

“You can’t give me back the years I lost with her.”

“No, and I’m sorry for that.” This time it’s Emma that answers. She’s proud, so proud of Killian for facing this, for the man he’s become since she found him under a pile of dead bodies in the Enchanted Forest. And now, he doesn’t have to face these mistakes alone. “But I can give you a future. Let me fix it. I’m the savior, my magic, it can free her.”

“Do you think me an imbecile? Do you not think I would have tried that?”

“You haven’t tried it with my magic.” she reaffirms him, voice firmer despite her current state.

“You don’t look very powerful to me.”

“Let her try.” Killian growls. “Let her try and if it works, just let us be. What do you have to lose?”

Hook sets the original scepter on the ground, stepping back. Emma waits for Jafar’s nod of approval before conjuring up the little strength she has toward the golden staff. Her limbs feel weak, and for the first time, she thinks the magic hurts, unnatural to her frail hands and restless body. So she falls down with it, knees hitting the wet grass with a thud.

And then she sees a tall, brunette haired woman appear in front of them. Emma’s chest feels full as she watches the couple reunite. She thinks she sees Jafar cry as he holds her and she thinks she knows the feeling. (It wasn’t long ago that her and Killian had a similar reunion, though it was death and not enchantment that separated them.) The memory has her rising to her feet, hand settling over Killian’s heart, head resting on his shoulder.

It’s beautiful, the happiness she sees on Jafar and the unknown woman’s faces. Emma wonders who she is - what fairy tale, folklore, or book, bares her name and her story. But she doesn’t dare interrupt.

After the elation and shock has worn down slightly, the woman turns her attention to Emma, taking Jafar’s hand to walk towards them.

“Thank you, Emma. Hook. I apologize for what I’ve put you through.” Jafar says.

“Join the list,” Emma smiles, extending her hand to Storybrooke’s newest resident. “Welcome to Storybrooke. . .”

“Amara.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Amara. I hate to cut this short, but I really, really need to get some sleep. We’ll see you around though.”

“Of course! Thank you again.”

They’re already walking away from each other, Emma leaning her weight almost entirely against her lover, when Jafar calls for them.

“Captain?” he pauses, turning around to take a step in Killian and Emma’s direction. “You really have changed. I didn’t know such change was possible for hearts so cruel.”

Killian looks to Emma with a small smile and love gleaming in his eyes. “This town will do that for you. These people will change you for the better.”

-/-/-

She falls asleep with Killian pressing soft kisses to her shoulder, and groggy reassurances of I love you, I’ve got you and There will be no nightmares tonight, It’s over, love, mumbled against her skin every so often. His arms are home, holding her together. His voice is safety. His kiss is love. She means to tell him, show him, all these things and more, but there will be time for that tomorrow. There’s other battles to conquer still - Mr. Hyde, a celebration dinner at Granny’s, and copious amounts of new residents to be getting into mischief soon if not already - but it’s about living in between the chaos. Right now, that means sleep. Tomorrow, it means making sure Killian is taken care of, that he feels as loved and cherished as she does in this moment. After that, who knows what life will bring. Whatever it is, she knows for sure, they’ll win.

A/N: It’s about to get sappy. I started writing this as a one-shot in July of 2016. If you’re finding this in the archives, it is now June of 2017. There are so many people who have helped and encouraged me throughout this process, @starg8rocks @foundmyhome, @thesassywitchofthenortheast, @acrobat-elle, @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713, my Seafret Pandora Station, @space-whales, @lovebecomeshim, @bromfieldhall, @thepowerofmyfridge@potentialheartofdarkness @phiralovesloki, @the-reason-to-sail-home, @poetic-justice-96, @snowbellewells, just to name a few. This fic would be nowhere without you all. On Ao3, I said this would probably be the last fic I wrote - my Swan Song. That may or may not remain true. A 3 part fic should not take a year to write, especially when you have a very detailed outline. I love you all so much, I love this fandom and the people in it. It’s changed me. So thank you. I hope you all like this fic!

Also, if you got this far, you probably realized it ignores the OUAT in Wonderland canon, as I have not seen it. And I came up with the idea for Jafar before it was ever announced he would be in Once, so I’m pretty proud of that one. ;)

#cs ff #captain swan fanfiction #my writing #on sleepless roads #cs #captain swan #once upon a time #ouat #emma swan #killian jones

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let-it-raines · 5 years

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fic prompt for captain swan! "my flight was delayed so i'm sitting it the airport scrolling through tinder and the man behind me goes "ouch hard no for that one?" and i turn around only to see the man i swiped no on right behind me!" thanks :)))

She hates airports.

They’re basically like forcing everyone into a large (and yet somehow very small) room where germs are passed around, people are pissed, people are tired, and only a small amount are there to actually go on vacation where life is fun. Most everyone is there for work or to visit family, and really, what’s so fun about that?

Okay, so maybe she’s on her way to visit her parents in Chicago, and she’s not exactly happy to have woken up at four in the morning for her seven o’clock flight when it ended up getting cancelled because the weather in Boston and Chicago both seriously suck in February. Seriously. Snow is pretty and all, but she’s tired and wants to be sitting in her parents’ living room eating the breakfast casserole she knows that her mom is making for her right now.

And she’s stuck at Logan standing in the longest line in the world for overpriced coffee.

She doesn’t even really want coffee. She wants hot chocolate, but she really needs the caffeine.

She needs a lot of caffeine.

Sighing, she pulls her phone out of her pocket, figuring that she can at least use the free Wifi and pass the time by scrolling through the internet. And she does, making her way through all of Instagram, Twitter, and Pinterest. Hell, she even goes through Facebook. She doesn’t even know when she last used Facebook.

It had to have been at least a year ago when Ruby and Dorothy got married, and she wanted to see all of the pictures Ruby had tagged her in. But that had definitely been the last time. She should probably just delete the account.

The line moves at a slow pace, and she’s convinced she’s never going to get her coffee, so as a last resort, she opens up Tinder, which is also something she hasn’t used in awhile, probably not since she was trying to find a date to Elsa’s wedding in June.

Why in the world are all of her friends getting married? What is she doing with her life? Woah, Emma, don’t go down that road. She’s fine. Everything is fine, and her mom totally isn’t going to hound her about why she’s not dating anyone while she’s eating the cold breakfast casserole that she’s missing right now.

Her mom is definitely going to hound her on it, especially because her cousin who is younger than her just announced that she was pregnant when they were all eating Christmas dinner. She could practically feel her mom screaming “baby, baby, baby oh” all Justin Bieber style.

Her mom is not as good of a singer as Justin Bieber…not that she would ever admit that…out loud. She’s twenty-seven years old, single, childless, and she can jam out to Justin Bieber and the Jonas Brothers if she wants to while she’s driving down the road late at night following a guy for one of her cases.

She’s a consummate professional. Always.

It takes forever to go through the profiles, a bunch of sleazy guys who pose shirtless in their pictures and write some of the dumbest captions in the world, and while she may not have always had the best taste in guys, she’s not about to go on a date with Matt from Boston who is looking for a “hot girl with an ass that won’t quit.” Her ass won’t quit, but her ass has standards. And it goes on and on like that, every single guy she sees just kind of looking like a douche, so she’s constantly swiping left simply because she can.

“Ouch,” someone groans behind her, right in her ear really, “so it’s a hard no on him, huh?”

She turns around, about ready to chew this dude out for looking over her shoulder, and it’s exactly when she sees familiar blue eyes and dark hair of the guy she just swiped left on.

Well, shit.

She’ll just walk to Chicago. Screw the snow. She’ll walk and then move there so she never has to run into this guy again.

Seriously, what are the odds? She needs someone super smart and good with statistics to figure out what exactly the odds are of having the guy you just rejected on Tinder standing right behind you in line at a Starbucks in Logan International. She’s also kind of regretting swiping left because, well, he’s hot, especially in person. His profile wasn’t bad, it was actually pretty good from the glimpse she got of it, but she was kind of on a roll of rejecting guys. It felt…powerful almost, and the more she thinks about that, the more she realizes that she really is tired if she thinks silently rejecting on guys is making her feel powerful.

But Matt from Boston totally deserved it.

“Seriously,” she whines when she looks up at him and the way his lips are stretched into an actual smirk. A smirk. In real life. And not on a Disney character. It’s insane. He’s smirking at her, his thick brows moving across his forehead, and she’s still considering just not going to visit her parents for their thirtieth anniversary party. “So I’m guessing you saw that.”

“I did just see you reject me without really even reading my profile,” he laughs, his British accent coming out stronger than it did when he first spoke. She didn’t even realize he had an accent at first. “I mean, come on, love. My profile is pretty good.”

“Obviously not if I just swiped it away like nothing.”

“Ah,” he sighs, crossing his arms over his chest and adjusting the backpack on his shoulders while his lips press together into a straight line, “well, maybe. Or maybe you were simply rejecting every man in Boston all while waiting in this ridiculous line. You were going pretty fast.”

“And you were invading my privacy.”

He shrugs, almost like he doesn’t have a care in the world while she feels irritation prick up over her skin. “I don’t mean to point out the obvious – ”

“Which is exactly what you’re about to do.”

“Aye,” he laughs, his eyes crinkling at the sides, and oh no, she will not find that attractive, “I am. I really didn’t mean to pry, but I’m a wee bit taller than you, and the way you’ve been holding your phone is directly in my eyeline while I watch the television playing. And imagine my surprise when a beautiful woman rejected me without even giving me a chance. I wasn’t planning on getting rejected this morning.”

“I’m guessing you don’t get rejected a lot.”

“It has something to do with my devilishly handsome good looks.”

“Oh my God,” she groans, rolling her eyes while he moves his eyebrows again. Why does he keep moving his eyebrows? “That is so conceited.”

“Or confident.”

“Conceited.”

He shrugs. “Whatever you say. So why the rejection of men on this fine Thursday morning?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I would. That’s why I’m asking.”

“Flight’s delayed, I’m bored, and I really want coffee.”

“The same could be said for me, but I do feel like I would give your profile a chance.”

“Guess you’ll never know now.”

“Perhaps.” He smiles down at her before he uncrosses his arms and sticks his hand out. Oh wow. He’s really about to introduce himself to her. Maybe the guy really does have confidence. “Killian Jones.”“Emma Swan,” she says warily, taking his hand in hers and shaking it up and down three times. She definitely doesn’t notice how warm his hand is. Nope. “It’s nice to reject you.”

“It’s nice to be rejected.”

She and Killian talk as they move through the rest of the line. It’s awkward and stilted sometimes, but he’s a pretty persistent guy. And obviously he does not feel embarrassment because he powers through it all and chats away about his job at an engineering firm and then asks her far more questions than necessary about what it’s like to be a private investigator. He seems genuinely interested, and that may be the first time that has happened…ever. But he’s a nice guy, funny at least from what she can tell, and when she finally gets to the front of the line, she pays for his coffee.

She’s not really sure why she does it. Maybe it’s some kind of apology for rejecting him, even if she doesn’t need to apologize for that, and maybe she just figures there’s no harm in being nice. Plus, he drinks black coffee, so it’s not like it was expensive.

She was really scared he was going to order something complicated for a minute there. He seems like the type of guy who would do that.

He also seems like the kind of guy who would part ways after he got his coffee and leave her be, but he asks her if she wants to find somewhere to sit. She does, so she follows him until they manage to find a spot on the floor next to the windows, settling down on the ground and completely ignoring how disgusting this has to be.

It just has to be.

She’s sure of it.

Killian’s apparently flying to New York for a conference, something he’s not at all looking forward to, and his flight has been delayed until at least one. So really, he’s going to miss the entire first day of it, and a part of her feels like maybe the man is happy to be stranded in an airport.

She’s kind of happy to be stranded in an airport.

Yeah, this has got to be like that movie where the girl gets trapped in a romantic comedy? She doesn’t meet men in airports who are charming and funny, especially men who also use Tinder. She really can’t say anything. She uses it too. Maybe he was simply looking for a wedding date. Maybe he was looking for a hook up. She can’t blame him there either. Sometimes you just need to scratch the itch.

She does have a bit of a hard time believing that he has trouble finding someone to scratch the itch with, but hey, maybe he doesn’t always have a great first line like calling her out for rejecting him.

She wonders if people still even use pick up lines. She also wonders if they’ve ever worked. If someone walked up to her and said “Do you believe in love at first sight or should I walk by again?” she’d definitely have to hold herself back from slapping someone or tossing a drink.

She swears she’s not a violent person.

Maybe just a little.

“So tell me, Swan,” Killian begins, fiddling his fingers over his thighs and the suit pants that are stretched with the muscles, “you’re from Boston, correct?”

“That would be correct.”

He smiles, all of his white teeth on display, and she wonders what dentist he goes to. “And I assume that you’re single from your use of dating apps.”

“You’re a very smart man, Jones.”

“Oh, well that’s never been a doubt.”

“Stop,” she groans, reaching over and knocking her shoulder into his while she laughs.

“Never,” he promises, twisting a ring around on his thumb. It’s weirdly hot, especially since she knows it’s not a wedding ring. This conversation would have stopped before it started two hours ago because they have definitely been flirting, and she’s not going to flirt with a married man. It’s been awhile since she’s flirted with someone outside of work, but she knows how these things go. “So you’re from Boston and you’re single. It’s a funny coincidence because those two things happen to be true about me as well.”

“I’m glad we finally found something we have in common.”

“Aye, me too, even though we both have fantastic taste in comedic television.”

“That’s true,” she laughs, her lips stretching into a smile while her entire body buzzes with energy. She knows where this is going, and she likes it, which only surprises her a little.

“So I was thinking, maybe when we get back from our trips, you might like to go out to dinner with me.”

She hums, tilting her head back against the glass while Killian scratches behind his ear. “I think that might be a good idea. But I should warn you that you’ve already been rejected once, so I would suggest that you be on your best behavior. Or your worst. It kind of depends on how you want the night to go.”

“I’ll have to think on it. I do so fancy you when you’re irritated with me for peeping over your shoulder.”

“You’re a weird guy.”

“Who you’re going on a date with.”

“That I am.”

And it’s one date, then two, then three. And it goes on and on and on as she and Killian travel across all of Boston going to restaurants, museums, and baseball games. Eventually the fun dates slow down. They don’t stop, but they’re replaced by takeout at home, by a run down at the river on Saturday mornings, or by a cup of coffee in the morning before work when she’s staying at his apartment working on a case while he’s rushing off to do whatever it is he does as a civil engineer. She’s not entirely sure, simply because she doesn’t understand the mathematics of it, but she doesn’t really care as long as he’s happy doing it.

She loves him. She loves him a lot, actually, and it constantly surprises her how happy she is getting to have someone by her side who laughs with her and yells with her and who will let her eat all of the junk food in his apartment without complaining.

Okay, so he complains a little bit, but it’s really only when she eats his Doritos. It’s his favorite American snack, and he’s very protective over the cool ranch flavor. Anything else she can have.

She thinks it’s kind of weird, but then one day he’s at work while she’s at home doing research, and she really wants the chips. It takes some maneuvering, some climbing on cabinets because he put them on the shelf she can’t reach, and then she’s grabbing the unopened bag while making sure she doesn’t fall backwards and bust her ass. She doesn’t when she gets the chips, but she almost does when she spies a small green velvet box tucked into the corner. She knows what it is, wants to open it so damn bad that she almost does, but she restrains herself. She knows Killian, knows that he probably put a lot of effort into the ring and into his plan for proposing (holy shit, he’s going to propose), so she puts the Doritos back and pretends that she never saw it.

The weeks pass, and for awhile, she forgets about the ring even though something in the back of her mind is nagging at her, a little doubt trying to freak her out about why he hasn’t asked yet. But she does forget, doesn’t focus on it constantly, and they go about their lives.

It’s only when they’re at Logan again, two tickets in her wallet for them to fly to Chicago to visit her parents so Killian can meet them, that she realizes what he’s going to do. He somehow manages to get them in nearly the exact same spot on the floor as that first day, their thighs pressed together this time with no distance between them, and he hands her a diamond ring and whispers in her ear.

“I know that you swiped left on me the last time we were here, but I’d really like it if you put this ring on your left ring finger. Forever, preferably.”

Needless to say, she deletes the app.

#captain swan #cs prompts #cs fic #cs ff

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