#this reminds me that I haven’t visited Emma’s ask box in a while
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Unbroken
Part 11
(previous part here, next part here)
Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x You
Summary: More time goes by and Bradley moves in. You get some news that shocks you to your core.
Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Adult language and themes, pregnancy talk.
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“Sick again, sweetheart?” Bradley asks with a yawn as he stumbles into the bathroom. He rubs your back as you empty your stomach into the toilet.
“Yeah,” you moan as your stomach turns again. “Sorry I woke you up again.”
This is the fourth morning in a row you’ve woken up on your way to the bathroom covering your mouth. You both had the stomach flu a few weeks ago and Bradley’s back to normal but you haven’t felt right since.
“It’s okay, I had to get up anyway,” he murmurs, wetting a washcloth with cool water and wiping it over your forehead. “Maybe you should go to the doctor?”
You nod. “I think so too. I’ll call when they open.”
“Mmkay,” he replies, placing a kiss on the top of your head. “Let me know what they say.”
“I will,” you say, wiping your mouth and flushing the toilet once you close the lid. “Thanks.”
“For what?” He asks, crouching down to brush your hair off your neck to place the cool cloth there.
“Taking care of me when I’m sick,” you reply, closing your eyes as you remember the way Chet laughed and left you heaving on the ground the first time he got you drunk. “Not being grossed out by me emptying my guts the past few mornings.”
“I want to because I love you, Em,” he says, rubbing soothing circles on your back.
“I love you too,” you whisper.
•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•
Once the nausea is at bay, he helps you to your feet and gets in the shower as you brush your teeth.
“We should be done by 4 today, and then I’m going to stop by the apartment to pick up the last of the boxes, but you can call me if you need anything. We’re just in the classroom today,” he says over the running water.
You had been meaning to ask him to move in for a while but didn’t know how to bring it up; but that was remedied when you blurt it out after a particularly good round of morning sex a few weeks ago.
“I will,” you say, heading back to the bedroom to lie down as another round of nausea hits.
Emma: Hey guys, I’m not feeling well again and I’m gonna make an appointment with my doctor when they open. Do you think one of you could see Akin’s new calf? That’s all I had on the schedule for today.
Gav: Of course, feel better.
Noah: No problem. Let us know how it goes.
Emma: Will do. Thanks guys. I appreciate it.
•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•
You snooze until Bradley leaves you with a kiss and a reminder to call the doctor.
You set an alarm and make an appointment for 10:00 AM and plan to have labs drawn beforehand.
Emma: Made an appointment for 10:00.
Bradley: Good, let me know how it goes. Love you.
Emma: I will. Love you too.
You drop a coffee off for Charlie on the way to the lab since the therapy department is connected to the hospital.
“You’re a lifesaver,” Charlie yawns before she takes a drink. “Jake kept me up way too late last night.”
“Gross,” you scrunch your nose. “Be careful what you say, I actually might throw up this time.”
“Stomach still bothering you?” She asks after she giggles.
“Yeah, it woke me up again this morning,” you reply, checking your watch. “I better go though, they want me to have labs drawn before the visit.”
“Let me know what they say,” she murmurs, hugging you.
“I will,” you reply, giving her a squeeze before letting her get back to work.
•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•
By the time the doctor comes in, you’re feeling back to normal and feeling a little silly for making an appointment.
“Good morning, Emma,” your doctor smiles as she shakes your hand. “We’re still waiting on a few labs to come back but I figured I’d come in and take a look at you and ask you a few questions.”
You nod, lying back as she guides you down and begins her exams, starting with your stomach.
“Any breast tenderness?” She asks as she palpates said area.
“A little,” you answer. “It’s not uncommon for me though; I take my birth control pills continuously, taking a break every 3 months to get a period.”
“Okay. When was your last period?” She asks as she helps you up.
“About a week before we got sick,” you reply, swinging your legs at the end of the exam table.
“Alright, let’s see if those results are in,” she says, clicking around. “Well, I know what’s going on.”
“What?” You reply, heart pounding.
“You’re pregnant.”
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“…help me put her feet up and get an ice pack,” you hear the doctor say. She sounds far away.
“What…what happened?” You say, sounding funny to your own ears; your tongue feels heavy.
“You fainted, honey. It’s okay, happens all the time,” the sweet old nurse reassures you, wiping a cool washcloth on your forehead. Just like Bradley did this morning.
Oh God, Bradley.
Your stomach rolls as you think of him leaving you.
“I can’t be pregnant,” you say, trying to shake your head. Your lips go numb as you begin to hyperventilate. “I take my pill every day, I’ve never missed one or taken one late. I’m not- I can’t-“
“Shhh,” the nurse shushes you. “Everything’s okay. Breathe with me, okay? Inhale for 3. 1…2…3, good.”
“Is there anyone I can call? Someone close by?” The doctor asks from your other side once your breathing is back under control.
“My sister, Charlie Seresin. She works down in PT,” you say, closing your eyes as the nausea starts to creep in.
“Oh, I know Charlie. I’ll go get her,” the nurse nods and pats your hand before heading toward the door.
“Is this a welcomed surprise?” The doctor asks as she rubs your hand. “I know last time it wasn’t.”
“I-I don’t know,” you say, closing your eyes as you try not to panic. “It’s not like last time, no. My boyfr-my Bradley-we just started to go without condoms a few months ago, I thought it would be okay since I’m so diligent with taking it.”
“You were doing everything right,” she assures you. “According to your HCG levels, you’re about 6 weeks along, which coincides with you being sick.”
“And it’s probably not very effective if you throw up shortly after taking it,” you say, lip trembling as you begin to cry as you realize. “I’m so stupid.”
“You’re not-“
There’s a knock on the door and Charlie rushes in.
“What’s wrong?” Charlie asks, rushing to your side.
“I’m…pregnant,” you choke out on a sob.
“Hey, hey, look at me,” she says, wiping a tear and holding your face between her hands. “Bradley’s not Chet. Bradley’s not going to leave you. Okay?”
You nod through your tears.
“He loves you and he’s going to be so happy,” she whispers, kissing your forehead. “He’s going to be the best dad and you’re going to be the best mom. This isn’t a bad thing. It’s maybe a little sooner than you’d like, but it’s going to be okay, okay?”
“Okay,” you whisper, trying to believe her.
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Charlie holds your hand as the doctor goes over what to expect in early pregnancy and helps you set up an ultrasound for the following morning.
All while you ignore the constant buzzing of your phone.
“Are you sure you’re okay to drive?” Charlie asks as she walks you out to your truck.
“Yeah,” you say, giving her the best smile you can muster.
“Okay, text me when you get home,” she says, obviously not convinced.
“I will,” you agree.
“Everything’s going to be okay, Em. This isn’t a bad thing. Bradley’s not going anywhere,” She murmurs after wrapping you in her arms. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
“Okay,” you nod, tears filling your eyes again.
•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•
You drive home on autopilot and suddenly you’re in your driveway without remembering a thing about the ride.
You pull out your phone and wince at the 11 missed calls and 7 new texts from Bradley as you open Charlie’s thread.
Emma: I’m home. Gonna lay down for a bit, I’m exhausted.
Charlie: Okay, please call Bradley, he’s freaking out.
Emma: 👍
Instead, you turn your phone off before changing into one of Bradley’s threadbare US Navy tees and climbing under your covers as tears steadily fall from your eyes. A sob leaves you when you smell his sweet shampoo on your pillow.
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“Emma?! Where are you?!” Bradley’s panicked voice pulls you from your slumber.
“In here,” you croak; your voice hoarse from your sobs. Your head pounds as you sit up.
He rushes into the bedroom and wraps you in his arms. “Thank God. That was the longest 27-minute drive of my life” he breathes, pulling back to look you in the eye, face falling as he takes in your tear-swollen eyes. “Oh sweetheart, what’s wrong?”
You just shake your head and bury your face into his shoulder as you begin to cry again.
“Whatever it is, we’ll get through it, okay?” He says, stroking your back which just makes you cry harder. “It’ll be okay.”
Your tears eventually begin to slow and you take a deep breath before pulling away from his shoulder but unable to meet his eye.
“What’d the doctor say?” he asks, wiping away your tears with his thumbs.
“That I’m not sick,” you whisper.
“Okay, that’s good,” he replies, pressing a kiss to your lips and tilting your chin up. “What’s going on then? Talk to me, baby.”
You take a shaky breath and finally meet his eye.
“I’m pregnant.”
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A/N: sorry for being MIA lately. Been a little discouraged and a lot busy.
Did anyone see this twist coming? 🙂
As always, any interaction is appreciated but I love hearing what you think in comments/reblogs!
Tagging (please let me know if you want to be added/removed!):
@mamamaystbr
@its-the-pilot
@dizzybee03
@sweetwhispersofchaos
@shanimallina87
@blindedbythelightt
@getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth
@lexixstewart
@phoenix-rising-starbird-one
@mrsrobertfloyd5
@charmedkim
@k-k0129
@bellaireland1981
@hookslove1592
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@eli2447
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#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw#bradley bradshaw x you#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw x female reader#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader#bradley rooster bradshaw x female reader#bradley bradshaw fanfiction
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came for the stunningly beautiful photoshop work, stayed for the interesting banter with emma
@boohooweewoobuckaroo
My photoshop crimes rarely get described as beautiful. Lololol thank you, anon! I’ll take it 😂🖤
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Twisted Fate - chapter 23
31: We have to let go
Last time, Belle and Gold made the final preparations for their baby, and Belle sought a reconciliation with her father. Here’s what happened next.
[AO3]
x
Gold pushed the jeweller’s glass into his eye socket, peering at the tiny cog on the square of black velvet. He reached for the pair of steel tweezers by its side, carefully picking up the cog and transferring it to the silver music box that lay open in front of him. He had been working on it whenever he had a spare moment whilst in Storybrooke, though in truth there had been little opportunity since he had effectively moved to Boston. Belle had not returned from visiting her father, and in order to distract himself from thoughts of marching over there to make sure she was alright, he had decided to concentrate on the music box. Over the past six weeks or so he had cleaned the mechanism, replaced the bent and broken pieces, and carefully and methodically put every piece in its place. This was among the last of them.
The sound of the shop doorbell made him glance up, and he shook his head, turning back to his work.
“A moment,” he called. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”
“It’s okay, it’s only me.”
Belle’s voice made him smile, and he put down the tweezers, removing the glass from his eye socket and turning on the stool to face her as she pushed the curtain aside and stepped into the back room. She looked a little strained around the eyes, but she was smiling.
“How did it go?” she asked, and he raised an eyebrow.
“That was going to be my question.”
“Oh…” Belle sighed, flopping down on the cot. “Okay, I guess. He apologised. Kind of. We talked. He’s not happy about you being in my life, but I told him he’ll have to get used to it.”
“Hmm.” Gold ran a hand through his hair. “Christmas will be fun.”
“Yeah, I’m trying not to think about that.”
Her tone was very dry, and it made him grin, even as he shuddered internally at the thought of having to spend the festive season with Moe French.
“The shop’s doing okay,” she went on. “I had a quick look through the accounts. He’s got a few weddings this month, which is always good for business. Keeps complaining about not having the time to do anything else, so I’ve tried to convince him to get some help in.”
“You think that’s likely?” he asked. “He always managed by himself before you helped him out. I presumed he’d do the same after you left.”
“Yeah, but I think he needs to,” she said. “Just a few hours. Maybe get one of the school seniors to help at weekends, or something. They could cover the shop while he does the wedding arrangements.”
“Well, perhaps he’ll take your advice,” said Gold, and Belle pulled a face.
“He doesn’t look too well,” she said then. “Says he’s been very tired recently. I told him to go to the doctor, but you know how he is.”
“You think it’s something serious?” he asked, and she shrugged.
“He’s overweight, diabetic, high blood pressure - I just worry his heart is gonna give out one day,” she said. “It’s not as though he looks after himself. The shop keeps him active, I suppose, but I bet he’s still drinking too much and avoiding veggies like they’re poison.”
“Well, you can only suggest a course of action,” he said. “It’s up to him to take it.”
“I know.”
She looked gloomy, and he tried to steer her away from talk of her father’s ill health.
“What did he say about the baby?” he asked.
“Asked when it was due, if I had everything I needed…” Belle put a hand to the small of her back. “He says he’ll visit when the baby’s born.”
“Great.”
It was said under his breath, and he winced at the reluctant tone of his voice.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know you wanted to make things up with him. I’m happy for you, really. Don’t listen to my complaining.”
“Can I have that in writing?” She looked amused, and he smiled.
“You know how I feel about formalising agreements.”
“Well, I’d hate to hold you to a promise you can’t keep,” she teased. “How about you buy me dinner tonight and we call it even?”
“That sounds like a deal I couldn’t possibly refuse,” he said. “Are you ready to head back?”
“I think so.” She peered at the bench behind him. “What are you working on?”
“Oh - it’s a music box,” he said. “I’ve been restoring it for some time now. Almost finished.”
“Oh.” She heaved a breath, letting her shoulders drop as she let out a sigh. “You can finish it, if you like. I don’t mind waiting.”
Gold hesitated, glancing over his shoulder at the music box.
“No, it’s okay,” he said. “I’ll be here next week, after all. Gives me something to do in between dealing with business matters.”
She smiled, and he pushed to his feet, carefully putting the remaining pieces of the music box into a small pot and rolling up the square of black velvet. Belle was chewing her lip, staring off into the distance, and he folded his hands over the cane handle, looking at her.
“We can always stay another night, if you’re worried about him,” he said. “I could - uh - make dinner. You could invite him round. If you like.”
Belle glanced around at that, and the way her eyes lit up made him forget about any distaste he felt at the idea of spending an evening with Moe French.
“That’s very kind of you,” she said, her tone warm. “But I think we’ll take things one step at a time. I still haven’t talked to him about all those ridiculous lies he told you about me and Gaston.”
“Ah.” Gold wanted to scowl at the memory, but he kept his face neutral.
“Not sure I will,” she added. “At least not right now. I don’t think I have the energy.”
“Fair enough.”
“How did things go with Dr Hopper?” she asked, and he blew out his cheeks, huffing air.
“We’re making progress,” he said. “Slow, but progress all the same.”
"Good."
"The fact that it's slow is my fault, not his," he added, and she gave him a patient look.
"It's no one's fault," she said gently. "It's just a process, and it takes as long as it takes."
"Yeah." He sighed the word, looking at the floor. "I suppose there are no quick fixes, are there?"
"Exactly," she said. "So no giving yourself a hard time because you're not magically fixed after a few sessions, okay?"
"Okay." He looked up again and smiled at her. "Dr Hopper says the same. And the sessions are going about as well as could be expected, in the circumstances. So that's something."
“Well, that’s good.” Belle stood, shouldering her bag and rolling her shoulders. “You want to tell me about it in the car? I think I want to get home.”
“Of course.”
Gold took off the apron he was wearing and went to the small bathroom to wash his hands. When he returned Belle was peering at the music box with a tiny smile on her face.
“It’s so pretty,” she said. “What tune does it play?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Is it for sale?”
“Perhaps,” he said. “We’ll see how it sounds. Maybe we can play it to the baby, get him to fall asleep.”
Belle straightened up, beaming at him.
“You think it’s a boy?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “That was a slip of the tongue. Honestly, I’d be happy with anything as long as it’s human.”
He grinned at her, and Belle bit her lip, looking amused.
“I think we can guarantee it’ll be human.”
“The rest of Storybrooke may question that, given that I’m the father,” he remarked dryly.
“Well, the rest of Storybrooke can kiss my arse, then,” she said, and Gold burst out laughing, reaching out to take her hand and pull her close.
“Oh, I’m not sharing that pleasure with anyone,” he murmured, and bent his head to kiss her.
x
Belle found that she grew nervous as April wore on and the time for the baby to be born drew nearer. She told herself it was fear of the unknown; no matter how many books she read or videos she watched on the birthing process, she felt that she knew nothing at all. Emma had been wonderful, patiently talking her through every minute of her labour with Henry, but Belle was well aware that Emma’s experience would not necessarily be her own. It didn't help that she was now extremely uncomfortable; the baby had moved, head down towards her pelvis, and she had been suffering from an ever-present backache and an overwhelming need to run to the bathroom. It reminded her that the baby would soon be outside of her, and that she would need to endure a lot of pain for that to happen. She told herself that women had been giving birth for thousands of years, and there was no reason she should find it any more difficult than they had, but she had made the mistake of reading about everything that could possibly go wrong in childbirth. It hadn't helped her nerves. At least her hospital bag was packed and ready to go. It sat in the hallway of the apartment and made her anxious every time she passed it.
She had expected Gold to be as nervous as she, given his past pain and the loss of his son, but he was surprisingly calm, and talked her down from a minor panic attack with soothing words and a bubble bath. He got in with her, sitting at the opposite end with his knees poking up through the fragrant bubbles, the hot water making his skin flush a little. Belle let him take her foot and start to massage it.
“Sorry I seem to be losing it,” she said, as she lay back. “How are you being so calm? We’re gonna be parents in like a fortnight!”
Gold grinned, his eyes soft, but still with that glint in them that she loved. His thumb worked magic circles on the ball of her foot, and she heaved a sigh, trying to relax.
“Yes, and I can’t wait,” he said. “Aren’t you excited?”
“Yes, but - mostly nervous,” she said. “I know it’ll hurt, but - but what if I can’t bear it?”
“You talked through your pain relief options,” he said. “You can speak to the doctor again, if you think it’ll put your mind at ease.”
“I guess.”
“I have every faith in you,” he added. “And in the medical staff. I know how independent you are, and how hard it can be to rely so completely on others, but in these circumstances, I think we both have to trust that they know better than we do. We have to let go.”
“Yeah.”
Belle chewed her lip, running a hand over the curve of her belly.
“I know you’re right,” she added.
“It’s perfectly natural to be nervous the first time,” he said soothingly. “I’m sure next time will be easier.”
“Next time?”
“Ah.” He squeezed his eyes shut, drawing his lower lip up over his teeth. “Forget I said that.”
“Hmm.” She was amused, and poked him with a foot. “Let’s get this one out before we think about the next, okay?”
“Agreed.”
He was grinning at her, and she couldn’t help smiling back, enjoying the easy banter. The fears were still there, whispering at the back of her mind, but she found that talking about them with him was helping.
“What if something goes wrong and they have to cut me open?” she said then.
“Then you’ll need to take things even easier after the birth and leave more to me, that’s what,” he said. “You’ll be in excellent hands. You have the best hospital staff in Boston caring for you and the baby, I promise.”
“I’d have a scar.”
Gold lifted her foot, kissing her toes.
“And it’ll be beautiful.”
“And - and even if I manage to give birth naturally, they’ll probably have to give me stitches,” she added. “That’s gotta hurt, right?”
Gold sighed.
“Look, I can’t pretend to understand your fears or to know what you’re going through,” he said gently. “But you are the bravest person I’ve ever known. I know you’re going to be just fine.”
He resumed the massage, thumb rubbing in slow circles, and Belle sighed, feeling the tension start to drain out of her.
“Sorry,” she said. “I just - I’ve been pregnant all this time and it’s like I’ve just realised I actually have to get this person that’s inside me outside. Does that make sense?”
Gold shrugged, grinning.
“I’m not sure I can ever entirely empathise,” he said. “I suppose I’ll have to settle for being as helpful as I can.”
“Well, you’ve certainly made yourself useful since you moved in,” she said, poking him with her toes again, and his grin widened.
“Indispensable, I would hope.”
“Absolutely.”
“Glad to hear it.”
Belle giggled a little, and wriggled a little, slipping down in the hot water and letting out a long, heavy sigh as she felt her body soften under the rhythmic sweeps of his thumbs.
“That’s better,” he murmured, moving his hands up to massage her calf. “Just relax.”
“Mm.” Belle watched him through half-closed eyes. “Emma, Neal and Henry are coming over Friday, by the way. Do you think you could make something for dinner? Nothing fancy, just anything I can shove in the oven.”
“I don’t mind cooking while you talk to your friends,” he said absently, and looked up. “Oh, unless you want me to find somewhere else to be, of course.”
“It’s not that,” she said. “Of course you could be here. It’s just I thought you’d be in Storybrooke most of the day.”
Gold pulled a face.
“You sure you want me to go?” he asked. “It’s the week before the baby’s due.”
“What about your therapy session?” she asked, and he sighed.
“True,” he allowed. “I suppose I really should try to make that.”
“Do you not want to go?”
Gold hesitated a moment, then shook his head.
“It’s not that,” he said. “It’s just - well, perhaps you’re not the only one who’s a little nervous. Maybe I’m just better at hiding it. I want to be here for you every step of the way, and I worry about leaving you alone for any length of time. Just in case.”
Belle smiled, reaching out to run a hand over his knee.
“It’s only a few hours away,” she pointed out. “And it’s only one day. I’m sure I’ll be fine. Besides, Emma and Neal will be here, it’s not like I’ll be alone.”
“Alright,” he said. “If you’re sure.”
He let go of her foot, and she slipped it back under the water as he reached for the other.
“You said your father was planning on coming to Boston,” he said. “Did he say when?”
“No, he said he’d let me settle in with the baby first,” she said. “He asked that I call him when it’s born, but I think he was planning on leaving the visit for a week or two.”
“Will he stay long?”
“I doubt it. He has the shop to run for a start, and unless he gets an assistant in like I suggested, there’s no one to cover. I imagine it’ll only be for a day or two.”
Gold nodded, and she gave him a wry look.
“I think he’s planning on making his own way here,” she added. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna ask you to go pick him up.”
He grunted at that.
“Good,” he remarked. “The idea of spending four hours in a confined space with Moe French doesn’t fill me with joy, I have to confess.”
“I expect the feeling’s mutual.”
A soft chuckle, and he glanced up at her.
“Don’t know how you put up with us.”
“Well, I’m an extremely patient person.”
“I noticed,” he said, with a wry twist to his mouth. “Far too good for the likes of me.”
Belle pressed her lips together.
“I thought we agreed you wouldn’t trash talk yourself anymore,” she said sternly, and he inclined his head.
“Work in progress,” he said.
“Hmm.”
“I’ve had years of practice, after all,” he added. “Old habits die hard.”
Belle sat forward, reaching up with one hand to cup his cheek. Bubbles ran over her arm, dripping into the bath around them, and she held his eyes with her own.
“You’re a good man,” she said gently. “And you’re going to be a wonderful father. Okay?”
Gold smiled, leaning into her touch.
“I’ll do my best,” he said. “I promise you that.”
“That’s all anyone could ask.”
He kissed her fingertips, and she settled back in the warm water with a sigh as he continued his massage. Two weeks until the baby gets here. We’re going to be a family.
x
The clock on the wall ticked slowly. Gold was sitting on the couch with his elbows on his knees, studying the rug between the shining toes of his shoes. Dr Hopper was waiting patiently for him to speak, and he threaded his fingers together and pulled them apart, a whispery sound of skin against skin.
“So you said the baby was due on May fifth,” said Dr Hopper. “How are you feeling about that?”
“Belle’s nervous,” said Gold, fingers moving restlessly. “I’ve tried to reassure her, but she’s anxious about the birth.”
“Well, that’s understandable, given that this is her first child.”
“I know. I’ve tried to tell her that, but I’m not sure I’m helping.”
Dr Hopper scribbled briefly.
“And how do you feel about it?” he asked. Gold shrugged.
“She’s in good hands. I’m sure she’ll be fine. I don’t want to see her in pain, of course.”
“And the baby?”
“The baby will be fine too.”
“That’s not what I meant,” said Dr Hopper calmly. “You said in our first meeting that you were excited to be a father again. Do you have any other feelings?”
Gold hesitated, ducking his head a little.
“I am excited,” he said eventually. “But there’s this underlying sense of - unease - I suppose.”
“About what?”
“About bringing this child into the world when I couldn’t hold onto the last,” he said, his voice soft. “About whether I’ll fail to protect it. Whether I’ll be - enough.”
“Do you worry that Belle will take it from you?”
“No,” he said, after a pause. “No, I don’t think she’d do that. Not really. Not now I’ve told her how much the thought of it scares me. Belle wouldn’t use my own fears against me like that. She isn’t cruel.”
“Of course not.”
Dr Hopper waited, and Gold ran a hand across the back of his neck, feeling awkward.
“It’s more a fear of what may happen in the future,” he said eventually. “That my child will leave and not come back. That I’ll drive him away; something that I say or do will be the last straw, and he’ll leave.”
“I see.” He could hear the sound of Dr Hopper’s pen scratching away. “Is there anything that sets off this train of thought?”
“Not really.” Gold thought for a moment. “Maybe. When I think about Bailey.”
“Your first son?” Dr Hopper nodded slowly. “You said he was two when his mother took him away.”
“Yes.”
“What was it that made her go?”
“I don’t know…” Gold sat back with a sigh. “She was seeing someone else. She was bored with me. I wanted financial and physical stability for our child, and she wanted excitement and - and drama for herself. The two were incompatible. We were incompatible.”
“Was there something specific that you said or did that made her leave?”
“Not that I can think of.”
“So the leaving was her choice.”
“Yes.”
“And your son had no choice in the matter at all,” added Dr Hopper. “Being two.”
“No, of course not.”
“Then why do you think it makes you worry about this child leaving?”
Gold hesitated.
“I suppose when you say it like that, it’s ridiculous,” he admitted, and Dr Hopper smiled.
“Oh, I find there’s very little that’s completely ridiculous,” he said. “Sometimes the reasons behind someone’s thought patterns may be a little convoluted, but there’s usually some basis in reality. Unfortunately, sometimes our minds focus on the least likely and most painful scenarios that may come from that.”
“Oh, I’m well aware of that,” grumbled Gold.
“So if you know that it wasn’t your son’s choice to leave,” said Dr Hopper. “Why do you fear your second child leaving you?”
“Because he never came back.”
Gold snapped his mouth shut, feeling tears prick his eyes, a heavy weight seeming to shift inside him. Dr Hopper was silent, waiting, and he forced himself to speak.
“He never came back,” he repeated, his voice a hoarse whisper. “I tried to find him for - for years. I employed private detectives and followed up leads and took out advertisements....” He broke off with a bark of a laugh. “I even went on some of those stupid shows where they try to reunite you with lost loved ones. I thought - I thought even if he didn’t watch them himself, maybe someone who knew him would see, they’d tell him. And - and nothing. He doesn’t want to be found. He - he doesn’t want me to find him.”
“Do you think that’s because of something you did?” Dr Hopper’s tone was careful, and Gold shrugged.
“Maybe it was what I didn’t do,” he said. “Milah always said I worked too much. I should have spent more time with him.”
“How much do you think he remembers?” asked Dr Hopper. “Given that he was two.”
“I don’t know…” Gold ran his hands over his face. “Why wouldn’t he look for his father? If she abandoned him, if she left him with Social Services, why wouldn’t he seek me out? All these years I’ve told myself that maybe he had no information to go on, that she told him nothing about me, but maybe that’s not the case. Maybe he chose not to look.”
“I understand how painful those thoughts must be,” said Dr Hopper gently. “Let’s consider your other child for a moment. You worry that you’ll do or say something to make this child leave and not come back.”
“Yes.”
“Some - confrontation, perhaps,” he went on. “I’m assuming you’re looking ahead to when the child is a teenager or a young adult.”
“Yes.”
“Conflict between a parent and child is the most natural thing in the world,” added Dr Hopper, his tone reassuring. “Especially when a child is maturing and starting to make its own choices.”
“I don’t want to be the reason my child leaves,” whispered Gold, and Dr Hopper smiled.
“Then how about you and I talk through some ways of communicating that should maximise your chances of avoiding something like that?” he suggested.
“Alright.” Gold nodded. “Yes. Good.”
“You’ll probably find these techniques useful in other relationships,” he added, and Gold gave him a wry smile.
“Good.”
“I’m going to give you some homework to do, as well,” said Dr Hopper. “Recording these unwanted thoughts. There are some worksheets I’d like you to complete. A kind of journal.”
“Alright.” Gold slumped a little in the chair, feeling drained. “It’ll give me something to do while we’re waiting for the baby to arrive.”
x
“So.” Emma slumped into one of the kitchen chairs, folding her arms across the back and eyeing Belle. “Not long now. You have your bag packed and ready?”
“It’s in the hall,” said Belle, sliding the casserole into the oven and closing the door. “You guys want a drink?”
“You sit down, me and Henry are on it,” said Neal. “I’m guessing some sort of tea?”
“Yeah, can I have fennel?” asked Belle, rubbing a hand over her belly. “This little guy’s been kicking so hard it gave me indigestion.”
“Wine for me,” said Emma, and grinned at Belle. “Hey, I can’t wait until the two of us can have a girls’ night. You can leave Gold changing diapers and come out and get wasted.”
“Looking forward to it.”
Belle sat down with a sigh of relief, still rubbing her belly. She had been having odd twinges all day, and it was getting on her nerves.
“I think he’d be in his element, anyway,” she said. “It’s gonna be a new thing for him, having a newborn to care for, but he’s been reading all the books. I think he’ll be great.”
“Wasn’t he around when his son was born?” asked Neal.
“I’m sure he would have been, had he known about it,” she said dryly, and Neal and Emma winced.
“Ouch,” said Emma. “Poor guy.”
“Yeah.” Belle slumped in her chair a little. “I get the feeling that’s not the only issue from his past that he needs to work through.”
“How’s the therapy going?” asked Emma, and Belle wrinkled her nose.
“He seems - less anxious about it,” she said eventually. “I think it took him a while to open up, but that’s no surprise. He’s committed to it, though.”
“Is that where he is now?”
“That’s the reason he went to Storybrooke, but he’s had his session,” said Belle. “I spoke to him this afternoon. He said he had a tenancy issue to sort out and then he’d be on his way back.”
She flinched as another spasm went through her. That one had hurt more than the last. Neal set a cup of fennel tea in front of her and gave Henry his cocoa before pouring two glasses of wine and slipping into the chair next to Emma. He was watching her with a tiny frown on his face.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “You keep wincing.”
“Yeah, just twinges,” said Belle, and Emma looked thoughtful.
“What kind of twinges?”
“Just - I don’t know, I guess the baby’s head is pressing on something. It’s been going on most of the day.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Well, it does now,” sighed Belle. “Figured it was Braxton Hicks. They’ve been driving me nuts this past month, but this is hurting more.”
“You got any backache?”
“Yeah,” said Belle, pressing a hand to her back. “God, I’ll be glad when this is over.”
“You may get your wish sooner than you think,” said Emma. “Sounds like you could be in early labour.”
“What?” Belle shook her head. “But the baby’s not due until next week.”
“Yeah, but babies don’t always stick to the schedule, and everything you just described could be early labour pains,” said Emma. “How often are you getting the twinges?”
“Oh, I dunno. Maybe a few times an hour?”
“Hmm.” Emma reached for her glass of wine. “You might want to time them. Could be nothing. Could be something.”
“Is the baby coming?” asked Henry excitedly.
“Maybe, kid.” Emma took a sip of her wine. “Belle, what time’s Alex getting back?”
“I don’t know, he said he’d call when he left.” Belle rubbed at her back, trying to ease the dull ache. “You think I should call him?”
“Not until you need to go to hospital,” said Emma. “If it is early labour you’ve probably got a good few hours before then. The baby probably won’t come until tomorrow.”
“Right.” Belle turned her mug of tea with nervous fingers. “Wow. Is this really it?”
Emma reached over to grasp her hand.
“You’re gonna be fine,” she said firmly. “We can time the contractions, and we’ll stay with you until Gold gets back, okay?”
“Okay.”
Belle tapped her fingers against the mug restlessly. The dull ache in her lower back was getting worse, and the pain wasn’t helped by her nerves.
“D’you want me to read you a story?” asked Henry. “I always feel better if I get a story.”
Belle smiled at him.
“Thanks Henry, that sounds great.”
“Cool! I’m gonna read you the one about Beauty and the Beast!”
He slipped from the table and ran through to the lounge to get the storybook he carried everywhere. Belle was feeling restless, fingers still tapping, and she pushed to her feet, almost toppling the chair over backwards.
“You okay?” asked Neal.
“Yeah, fine,” she muttered. “I’m just - excuse me a moment.”
She strode from the room, heading for the bathroom. There was wetness between her legs, a sudden rush of fluid. She had taken to wearing pads in the lead-up to her due date, as the literature suggested, and this felt like something that needed attention. A strong cramp went through her, and Belle stopped dead, pressing a hand to her belly with a groan, her heart thumping. How long since the last one? Ten minutes? Less?
“Belle?” Emma had put her head around the kitchen door and was eyeing her curiously. “You okay?”
Belle turned on her toes slowly, trying to steady her breathing as the cramping continued.
“Could you call Alex?” she asked. “I think my waters just broke.”
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Golden Rings 24: A Stranger
The Storybrooke sequel to Golden Cuffs
Rumpelstiltskin seeks out the mysterious man on a motorcycle
Read on AO3
August Wayne Booth.
The man had been at the forefront of Rumpelstiltskin’s mind for weeks now, ever since Jefferson had mentioned him in passing. His friend had only known the stranger as a man on a motorcycle, someone who had come to town in January and stayed.
Outsiders weren’t supposed to be able to come into Storybrooke and they certainly weren’t supposed to stay. The only person here who hadn’t been born in the old world was Henry Mills. The people affected by the curse didn’t notice it’s constant effect because that had been their reality for twenty-eight years. But a normal person would notice the oddness around Storybrooke, the little things that didn’t quite add up. Henry had, and he was only a child. If an adult who had been born in the world without magic slipped into town, the curse was designed to fill them with an unfathomable dread, a soul-deep revulsion that would make them want to leave as soon as they could.
But not Mr. August Wayne Booth.
For a few weeks, Rumpelstiltskin kept tabs on the man. Gold had a loose network of informants, people who wanted to stay on his good side. It was easy to make subtle inquiries. Emma Swan had given him the name, as well as the fact that he was a writer. That had piqued his interest. A storyteller coming into a town made of stories. Wasn’t that awfully convenient?
“Booth” was clearly a false name. If he was a writer, it was a pseudonym. If there was something more nefarious going on, it was an alias. Either way, the name was a lie. What was the truth? Who was he, this dark-haired young man who had been born in the old world but had come to the land without magic without being part of the curse?
And why did he seem to be watching Gold as much as Rumpelstiltskin had been watching him?
****
It started with Henry. One day after school, the boy came into the shop. Thankfully, Mrs. Gold was out at the time. Rumpelstiltskin hated to imagine the sorts of things that woman might try to get away with in front of a child.
Rumpelstiltskin liked Henry. He liked most children--they were so refreshingly direct. Henry reminded him particularly of Bae. It was something about the dark hair and wide brown eyes, the conflict of innocence and experience that made both boys wiser and more haunted than they should have been. Bae’s life hadn’t been an easy one, and Henry had been raised by Regina, a woman the boy had correctly identified as the Evil Queen.
“Good afternoon, Henry.” He left the back counter to talk to him. “What brings you in today?”
Henry looked around the shop with a half-frown on his small face. “I wanted to buy a present for Mrs. Nolan,” he said. “You know, since she didn’t die.”
Kathryn Nolan’s disappearance, various sightings, and eventual re-appearance had been headline news for weeks. The poor woman had finally made it to the doorstep of the sheriff’s station, dehydrated and malnourished but clear in her mind. She reported that she had been abducted, had escaped several times, and had been recaptured and moved to different locations before finally making a break for it.
Rumpelstiltskin didn’t wonder who might be responsible for something so tragic happening to the woman Prince Charming was married to in this world--or who might benefit from it becoming public knowledge that David Nolan and Mary Margaret Blanchard were having an affair while Kathryn was in such peril. But he did wonder how things might have been different if Regina had asked someone more competent to do her dirty work. He would have refused, but she should have at least tried to come to him first.
That was all in the past. Now, Kathryn Nolan was recuperating in the hospital and young Henry wanted to buy her a gift.
“What were you thinking, my boy?”
Henry shifted from one foot to the other. He seemed focused at some point over Rumpelstiltskin’s shoulder. “Um.... Maybe something musical? Something that makes a lot of noise.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Interesting choice. Perhaps a music box?” He went to the case where he kept a few antique music boxes. He wound each one up and set them on the counter for Henry’s inspection.
“They’re not very loud.” He held one shaped like a golden harp up to his ear.
“I also have a mechanical nightingale.” Rumpelstiltskin pointed to a clockwork bird that was covered in jewels. In the old world, it had belonged to an emperor, who had valued its song over that of any real bird. “Though I fear it may be a touch out of your price range.”
There was a noise from the back of the shop. Rumpelstiltskin turned to look that way, but then Henry spoke up again.
“What about a bell?” he asked loudly. “Do you have any bells around here?”
“I’d be happier if I had one more,” Rumpelstiltskin joked to himself. “But yes, they’re in the case on the other side.”
He got them out--glass and porcelain, silver and pewter. Henry had to ring them all, of course. Several times. It was only when the boy was done that Rumpelstiltskin noticed more noise from the back.
“Excuse me,” he said to Henry as he limped over to the curtained door.
There was a man in his office. August Wayne Booth. Looking through the shelves of unpriced antiques.
“May I help you?” he threatened.
Booth put on a boyish grin. It was meant to look disarming, which only made Rumpelstiltskin arm himself more thoroughly.
“Yeah, I was looking for some maps, if you had any.”
“They’re out there,” Rumpelstiltskin nodded behind him. “In the shop.”
“I thought this was the shop,” Booth chuckled.
Slowly, Rumpelstiltskin came toward the man, who backed away without losing his shit-eating grin.
“This is my office.” He kept his voice low, to make sure Booth was listening. “Private.”
“Ah!” To Booth’s credit, he kept up the ruse, no matter how thin it was getting. “Sorry. My mistake.”
Why did the memory suddenly come to him of Baelfire insisting that he had washed his hands before dinner, even when Rumpelstiltskin could see the dirt on his palms?
Booth made a hasty retreat through the curtained door into the showroom. A moment later, the bell over the front door rang. Without looking, Rumpelstiltskin knew that Henry and Booth were both gone.
****
“Will you be able to watch the shop today?” Rumpelstiltskin asked Mrs. Gold the next morning. She had started coming down for breakfast again, though she still made her own coffee and toast.
For some reason, she seemed to be warming up to him lately. In the evenings she lounged around the house instead of staying cooped up in her room. She offered to help him with dishes and other chores. She stood close to him again. Sometimes she even tried to take his hand.
She set down her section of the newspaper. Instead of reading to him as she once had, now they divided the paper and read in silence. “You won’t be in?”
“No, I have some business that would bore you.”
For a moment, he wondered if she would question him. When the curse was in full force Mrs. Gold would have obeyed her husband without thought. Her trust in him--damaging and perverse though it may have been--was absolute. But since Rumpelstiltskin had given up any pretense of acting like Gold to her, she didn’t know him anymore. It had hurt her at first, especially when she had seen him with Jefferson. But lately, for some reason, the breakdown of their marriage didn’t seem to bother her as much as it once had.
She just nodded. “Feels like I haven’t been in the shop in forever.”
She hadn’t. When Mrs. Gold avoided him that meant avoiding the place where he spent the most time. Should he have done something different with that? Should he have arranged that they alternate days in the shop, just to give Mrs. Gold something to do? Would keeping her busy have made her happier? Would it have prevented some damage to her heart or her mind?
Was it too late for him to make things better for her?
****
The question of regrets, of apologies and restitution, weighed heavily on Rumpelstiltskin’s mind. Everything he had done for the last several hundred years had been to get to the moment he was in now. He had created a curse that would destroy the old world and bring them to this one. He had manipulated events so that Regina would have enough power and enough rage to cast it, and that Snow White and Prince Charming would have enough True Love to create a Savior who could break it. All of that was just the first step, just the way to get to Baelfire. Now he had to find him, and he had to make things right by him.
But what if Baelfire had found him first?
The thought was too precious to believe in. It didn’t help that he had no idea how old his son would be. Time worked differently in different worlds. In some places it stopped altogether. Jefferson once spoke of a world where thousands of years could pass between one of his visits and the next. In this world without magic, Bae could still be fourteen. Or he could be an old man.
Or could be an adult who rode a motorcycle.
Booth was staying at Granny’s Bed and Breakfast. As the owner of the building, Rumpelstiltskin could have insisted that Granny Lucas pull out her master key and escort him up to the room. But there was no need to make a public display. Not when a set of lock picks could achieve the same result.
Tit for tat, after all. Booth had invaded his territory. It was only fair that Rumpelstiltskin repay him in kind.
After four months of him living there, the hotel room had plenty of information to offer about Booth. Housekeeping had made the bed, but dirty clothes still littered the floor. A desk was strewn with books and papers, with a typewriter sitting in the middle. That gave some credence to the idea that Booth was an author. There was a page in the typewriter carriage, the end of a paragraph about a smirking blonde woman.
There were two stacks of papers on the desk. The larger stack appeared to be a ream or two of blank printer paper, waiting to become the next Great American Novel. The smaller stack was the actual results of Booth’s work. Typed pages held down by a wooden carving of a donkey.
Rumpelstiltskin picked up the figurine. There was no brand on the bottom, it could be hand-made. Once, Baelfire had asked him to teach him to whittle, as he had seen other men around the village teach the other boys. Rumpelstiltskin had been forced to admit that he didn’t have that skill. His father had never taught him either.
He leafed through the pages until his heart skipped a beat. Hidden with the rest of the papers was a drawing. Baelfire had loved to draw, as Milah had before him. And this drawing was certainly something that only Baelfire would have made.
It was the dagger. His dagger.
He had told his son about the power of the dagger, that it was the source of his magic, the only weapon that could hurt him. That anyone who used the dagger could control him and make the powerful Dark One a slave.
Bae had hated the dagger. He hated what his papa had become--and hated more that Rumpelstiltskin didn’t hate it. How could he? The power, the knowledge, had been like nothing he had ever known. Once he had lost his soul to dark magic, Rumpelstiltskin felt like a man for the first time in his life.
But Bae had only wanted his father.
And when the time came, when Rumpelstiltskin had to choose between the dagger and his son--the son he would die for but could not protect without magic--he had made the worst choice he could have made.
By the time he realized what he’d done, it was too late. Bae was gone. Rumpelstiltskin lived for centuries without him. Centuries trying to find him. And now…
And now his son might be in Storybrooke.
****
Later that afternoon, he took Gold’s car and followed Booth on his motorcycle. The Sisters of St. Meissa Convent was an odd visiting place for a man as worldly and rough-edged as Booth appeared to be. But Baelfire had goodness in his soul, the kind that time could not erase. He would talk to nuns as easily as he would talk to fairies. How fitting that the Blue Fairy was now the Mother Superior over a superfluity of nuns.
Booth was talking to her. Bae had once asked the Blue Fairy how to remove the darkness from his father, and the gnat had given him a magic bean. The bean had opened a portal to get to the land without magic--this world.
If she had offered the same courtesy to Rumpelstiltskin when he had demanded it, the curse would have never happened and none of them would be in the mess they were in now.
The fairy and the man spoke for some time. They walked around the convent grounds while Rumpelstiltskin waited in the car. From the far side of the large parking lot, he kept an eye on the motorcycle. Once Booth came back to it and started the motor, Rumpelstiltskin got out and made his way to the convent.
“Mr. Gold!” Mother Superior squeaked when she saw him waiting for her by the entrance. She quickly recovered and straightened up in a display of determined self-righteousness. “It isn’t Rent Day. Are you here to repent of your sins and beg for forgiveness?”
“My sins are far beyond your forgiveness, dearie.” He showed his teeth. She might be stupid enough to think it was a smile. “Who was that man you were talking to?”
The fairy lifted her chin in the air and began to walk on. “I don’t have to tell you that.”
“And I don’t have to not double your rent.”
She stopped in her tracks, her back to him. She was dressed in wool from her stockings to her habit--all of it dark blue. At least some things hadn’t changed. The Mother Superior stomped back to him.
“What do you want?” she asked through a clenched jaw.
“That man,” Rumpelstiltskin repeated. “What did you talk about?”
Fidgeting with the sleeves of her cardigan, the Blue Fairy didn’t look him in the eye. “He’s a lost soul looking for his father. He asked me for advice on how to approach him.”
Rumpelstiltskin’s throat went dry. He stayed very still and gripped the handle of his cane. “What did you tell him?”
Her temper seemed to flare. “The same council I would give anyone in that situation: To be selfless, and brave, and honest.”She looked at him pointedly. “You have to care about the other person’s feelings more than your own pride, you know.”
“You would know a thing or two about pride, dearie.” Rumpelstiltskin turned away and began to walk, leaving the gnat sputtering in his wake.
****
Taking time to chat with the Blue Fairy made Rumpelstiltskin lose track of Booth’s whereabouts. He drove back to town, knowing he would run into the man again. Especially if he was looking to reconcile with his father.
Should he believe what the fairy had said? Mother Superior would know better than to make things worse between herself and Gold. Nothing she had said seemed to be a lie. But there were so many ways to deceive without lying.
He parked the car by the shop, but didn’t go in. Without knowing that he was doing it, he began to walk down the main street. He needed to think.
What he really needed was to talk to someone. Belle would know what to do. He could talk to her about anything, and she would understand, or try to. At least she would listen. In the too-brief year of their marriage, he had poured out his soul to her a hundred times. She had always known how to help him, how to see what he needed to do and how he might go about doing it. He could be weak with Belle, in a way he could never be weak with anyone. He could admit his confusion, his inarticulate mass of fears and sorrows--and always, she would help him untangle the threads of his thoughts, without judgement, with nothing but wisdom and love.
No one else could do what Belle did.
He might reach out to Jefferson, but the poor man was so caught up in his own misery. Little Grace didn’t know who her father was, it would be cruel to talk to him about a possible reunion with his own child. It also occurred to Rumpelstiltskin that Jefferson didn’t know Bae existed. His son--his life before he became the Dark One--was one of Rumpelstiltskin’s closest secrets. Only Belle knew the whole story. It would be too much to burden Jefferson with all of it at once.
After circling the block, Rumpelstiltskin’s feet stopped in front of a building across the street from the shop. It was called the Hepworth Building, Gold had owned it for years. Among other businesses, it housed the office of Dr. Archibald Hopper, the town’s resident psychiatrist.
In the old world, Hopper had once been a petty thief named Jiminy. After getting caught up in some magic he didn’t understand, Jiminy had been transformed into a talking cricket. To atone for his previous crimes, he had made it his duty to act as the conscience for confused humans, to encourage them to do the right thing.
Rumpelstiltskin sighed as he knocked on the office door. Whatever might happen with the cricket, it had to be better than stewing around in his own head.
Dr. Hopper opened the door. A tall, bespectacled man in tweed, he radiated a kind of earnest goodness, a guileless sincerity that made Rumpelstiltskin itch.
Belle would like this man, he told himself. Belle would want him to talk to someone.
“Mr. Gold.” Hopper’s voice was always soft, even when he was surprised and confused. “Are you… here about the rent?”
Of course that was all Gold was to these people. Nothing but a monster set out to take as much from them as possible.
“No.” He leaned on his cane and looked at the carpet. “No, I’m… I’m not sure I could tell you why I’m here.”
Hopper’s frame had been taking up the entirety of the doorway. Rumpelstiltskin stood in the hall, far enough away that no passerby would think he was waiting to go into the psychiatrist's office. With a single step Hopper went out into the hall. Now the door was wide open.
“Would you like to come in?” he said. “I’ve got some time before my next appointment. If there’s something on your mind…?”
Rumpelstiltskin brushed past the doctor before he could change his mind. Once in the office, he had just enough time to find a chair before his knees gave out and he collapsed, like a puppet whose strings had just been cut.
Hopper sat down in the chair across from him, so they were eye to eye. Some deep, primal emotion burned in Rumpelstiltskin’s throat. He wanted to talk. He shouldn’t talk. If he started talking--about Bae, about himself, about Belle--he would never be able to stop.
“So,” Hopper began, “what brings you in today?”
A coffee table sat in between Rumpelstiltskin’s chair and Hopper’s. He looked at it, at the fake wood grain that covered up the cheap plywood. He breathed.
Gods, he wished Belle was here.
“I think I might be seeing my son again soon,” he said.
Hopper was silent for a moment. His head tilted to the side. “I--didn’t know you had a son. How old is he?”
“Let’s start with something simpler.” Rumpelstiltskin took a shaking breath. “I haven’t seen him since he was fourteen. I…” He trailed off, then began again. He was here. He was talking. He was determined to plunge in the knife as deep as it would go.
“I haven’t seen my son since I abandoned him.” He looked up, stared directly into Hopper’s eyes. “I can’t imagine that he doesn’t hate me for what I’ve done. I know I deserve his hate. I deserve all the anger and rage he wants to pour out onto me. But I’m still afraid of it.”
“Well of course you are,” Hopper said simply. “No one wants to deal with negative emotions, or the consequences of actions they regret. The past can be a scary place, and it sounds like you’ve got some real causes for concern.”
Rumpelstiltskin blinked. He’d forgotten how good it could feel to have someone agree with him, to look at the facts of the situation and say that his reaction was justified.
“I do want to see him,” he said. “But… but how can I make up for what I’ve done? If I make myself vulnerable to him, I might as well put my head on a chopping block.”
The dagger was the only weapon that could kill him. Did Bae want it for that reason? Had his son decided that enough was enough, that he would end the evil of the Dark One no matter what it cost?
“Vulnerability,” Hopper said, “is a very scary thing. Forgive me if I’m overstepping, but you don’t strike me as a person who is comfortable with being open.”
Rumpelstiltskin sighed. It had been the greatest gift Belle had ever given him--the chance to open himself up to her. Could he trust Bae in the same way? Could he offer his son all he had, all the weakness and cowardice? Could he trust his boy to understand everything he wasn’t, as well as everything he was?
“When he was growing up,” he said, “I always wanted to be strong for him. I didn’t want him to… know.”
“Know what?”
“What I lacked. As a father, as a--man.” Rumpelstiltskin’s hands balled into fists. “I didn’t want him to know that I wasn’t good enough for him.”
The confession escaped him like air from his lungs. It left him feeling hollow, deflated. He looked at the ground.
The office was silent. Hopper seemed to be waiting to see if he would say more. When it was clear that he wouldn’t, the doctor put his hands together, entwining his fingers.
“It’s clear you have regrets,” he said gently. “If you want to talk about those things in the future, we can schedule an appointment. But you came here because you have concerns about reuniting with your son. On that end, I have a question for you.”
Rumpelstiltskin didn’t speak, but looked up from the ground to let Hopper know he was listening.
“Do you think your son doesn’t know about what you think of as your faults?”
His eyebrows furrowed. “What?”
“Everything you were trying to hide from your son when he was a boy, everything you didn’t want him to know--do you think, right now, that he is unaware of those things?”
Rumpelstiltskin opened his mouth. “No,” he said after a moment. “No, I don’t see how he could be ignorant anymore.”
When Bae was small, he had tried to be a regular father to him. He’d tried to keep him from understanding how wretched their poverty was, how unhappy Millah was, how far Rumpelstiltskin fell from being anything their world thought a man should be. But Bae had grown up and he had learned. And then he had seen that not only was his father less than a man--he was a monster.
Bae had known that. And he had run from it. But now he was back. He had chosen to come back, to seek out Rumpelstiltskin.
“If that’s the case,” Hopper said, “though it might still be frightening, I don’t know if there’s any reason for you to feel like you need to hide from him anymore.”
He didn’t speak. He was too overwhelmed. He should see his son. He would see his son. He had to.
“Do you know where mold grows, Mr. Gold?”
Wordless, Rumpelstiltskin shook his head.
“In the dark,” Hopper answered his own question. “Any rot, any corruption, it’s mostly going to happen in dark, hidden places. Basements, attics, the back of the fridge. It’s the same with emotions that people keep secret. If you don’t bring them out into the light, they’re just going to get… yucky.”
He allowed himself to grin. “You know, that sounds exactly like something my wife would say.”
****
That night, when Rumpelstiltskin followed the motorcycle, it drove off into the woods. It took him a few minutes to realize that they were headed to Gold’s cabin. The same place where he had buried the dagger all those months ago.
Good. That dagger had been the linchpin of the conflict between him and Bae. No matter how that conflict ended, the dagger would surely have some part to play.
He parked the car beside the motorcycle. The cabin was dark, but moonlight reflected off the lake. The figure of a man stood by the shore.
Rumpelstiltskin hesitated before going out to meet him. How was this going to play out? How angry would Baelfire be? How could he ever make up for leaving him, for embracing the darkness he had hated so much?
How could he ever be a father to him again?
Do the brave thing, Belle would have said. Bravery will follow after that.
Leaning on his cane, Rumpelstiltskin stepped onto the grass and walked out to meet his fate.
The man didn’t move as he heard him approach, but he did turn his head as they stood side by side in front of the water.
“I didn’t know if you would come,” he said calmly.
Rumpelstiltskin planted his cane in front of him. Just barely, he resisted the impulse to weep. He wanted to throw his arms around his son, to get on his hands and knees and beg forgiveness from his beautiful boy.
“I didn’t know if I would be welcome,” he said honestly. “After… everything.”
Now Bae faced him fully. In the moonlight, his eyes sparkled blue--so like Millah, so like Belle. His eyes shone with unshed tears.
“Papa.”
It was all he said. It was all he needed to say. Rumpelstiltskin’s resolve melted. His son was in his arms. They hugged and cried and apologized. Bae assured him that everything was alright, everything was forgiven. They were together again. They could be happy again.
“Look at you!” Rumpelstiltskin held his son’s face in his hands. He had changed, but he had grown up to be a handsome, strong, capable man. Bae was everything he had ever hoped he would be. “Belle will be so happy to meet you at last.”
Bae looked confused. “Who’s Belle?”
“My wife. Your--well, she’d like to be your step-mother, if you want to think of her that way.”
Belle had wanted to be a mother to his son, a mother to all the children they could have together, once the curse was broken and the world was safe.
“Of course, Papa,” he said. “I’m sure I’ll love Belle. She’s got to be a better wife to you than that girl who hangs around your shop.”
Rumpelstiltskin winced. He patted his son on the arm and began to walk toward the cabin. “Don’t judge Belle by Mrs. Gold, son. This curse… it is a terrible thing.”
“I know.” Bae began to walk ahead of him. Then he stopped and looked back. He waited for Rumpelstiltskin to catch up.
Limping, he chuckled at his son. “Just like old times, isn’t it?”
For a split-second, the man’s face was blank. Like he had no memories of running to the village on market day while his father hobbled on a staff, urging him to slow down, to stay close. The blankness remained in his blue eyes, even as he smiled and laughed. “Oh, right.”
Had Bae always had Millah’s eyes?
Rumpelstiltskin felt his jaw clench. A worm of worry had gnawed into this perfect moment. But he couldn’t worry. He couldn’t be afraid now. Not when he finally had Bae again.
He had Bae. And Bae had forgiven him. It was so easy.
Too easy?
They kept walking, past the cabin and to the patch of woods where he had buried the dagger. There was a shovel in the cabin. The young man insisted that he do the digging. Rumpelstiltskin watched him work. He tried to keep a level head.
The deeper the man dug, the more worried Rumpelstiltskin found himself. Was that just his connection to the dagger? Dark magic knew when it was being threatened, it always worked to protect itself. Bae had tried to separate Rumpelstiltskin from the Dark One before. Did the dagger know that? Was it afraid that Bae would win this time?
Or was Rumpelstiltskin afraid that Booth wasn’t really Bae at all?
After unearthing the metal box, Booth handed it over to him.
“Can you unlock this, Papa?”
The keys were in his trouser pocket. He didn’t reach for them. He held the box in both hands, in the dark and silent forest.
“You know,” he said. “I gave the dagger to Belle, before I asked her to marry me. I knew it was the only way we could be together. If I kept my magic, she would have the power to control it.”
The young man looked up at him from his hole in the ground. “That’s… really sweet, Papa.”
Rumpelstiltskin let out a breath. “Funny thing, though,” he said. “In this world, I don’t have magic. Wasn’t that the whole point of coming here, Bae?”
Thinking clearly for the first time in days, Rumpelstiltskin looked August Wayne Booth in his lying blue eyes.
“There is no magic in this world,” he said. “My son wanted to escape from magic. He would leave this dagger buried in the earth. You are not Baelfire, so who the hell are you?”
Booth opened his mouth and held up his hands. “Papa, how can you--”
“Enough!” Rumpelstiltskin roared.
By the time Booth had scrambled out of the hole, Rumpelstiltskin had unlocked the box and taken out the dagger. He pushed Booth up against a tree and held the point of the dagger to his lying throat.
Booth’s breath went ragged. “You just said it doesn’t have magic.”
“Doesn’t mean it isn’t sharp, dearie. I think you should talk while you still have a voice box.”
He tried to swallow, then seemed to realize what a dangerous endeavor that would be. “I-I-I’m not your son.”
Rumpelstiltskin bared his teeth. “A little fairy told me she advised you to be honest. Now tell me something that I don’t already fucking know.”
“I know where he is!” Booth gasped out the words. “N-Baelfire. I’ve met him, I’ve talked to him. I can find him again.”
“See, if you started with that, you might have some credibility. But now I’m going to make you bleed, just because you insulted my son’s name by putting it in your mouth.”
He pushed the dagger into a spot under Booth’s ear, far away from any fatal areas. Rumpelstiltskin had seen blood in the moonlight before--it looked black and otherworldly and beautiful.
But Booth wasn’t bleeding. A trail of clear liquid rolled down the man’s neck, much more slowly than blood usually did. Rumpelstiltskin reached out a gloved hand to touch it.
“Who are you?” he asked. “What’s wrong with you? Were you not born in my world?”
Though clearly feeling pain, Booth was able to grin. “That’s where you’re wrong, Dark One. I wasn’t born at all.”
Rumpelstiltskin eased up on the point of the dagger, but kept Booth pushed up against the tree. “And?”
“I was carved,” he explained. “From the wood of an enchanted tree. And enchanted trees don’t do well in a land without magic.”
Now Rumpelstiltskin stepped back. Far enough away that Booth couldn’t grab the dagger away from him, but close enough that he could still rush the man if he needed to.
“You need magic,” he said to the wooden man. “Did you think you could control me with this? Use me to keep yourself alive?”
“There are three people in this town who might have access to magic.” Now Booth leaned against the tree. He rubbed at his neck, wiping away the sap that had leaked from his skin. “It’s Emma, you, and the Evil Queen.”
Understanding dawned. “You’ve been hanging around Emma for months.”
“Trying to get her to believe.” Booth shook his head. “Hasn’t worked.”
“Well, you couldn’t claim to be her long-lost child, could you?”
He had the good grace to chuckle at that. “I don’t have anything to offer Regina either. Hell, she wants me to be a pile of kindling.”
“You haven’t exactly endeared yourself to me either, sunshine.”
Hanging his head, Booth looked at him. Blue eyes--Bae’s were brown, they had always been brown, dammit!--had no hope in them. “Do you want to kill me now?” he asked. “Or do you want to watch my limbs and lungs and brain slowly turn into wood?”
“It’s a day in the park either way.” Rumpelstiltskin didn’t hide his satisfaction at this news. This man had lied to him, betrayed him in one of the most personal ways possible. He deserved to die. “Any guess as to how long you’ve got left?”
“Maybe weeks.” Booth pressed his hand to his thigh, then rapped his knuckles against his leather jacket. “Maybe days.”
“Hmm,” he grinned. “Well, Mr. Booth, for as long as you’re flesh and not furniture, you have a job to do.” He stepped up to the man, grabbed him by the collar and spoke loudly into his ear. “Get Emma Swan to break the curse. She is the Savior. Her magic is what will save us all.” He released Booth, tucked the dagger into his inside coat pocket, and walked back to the car. “Even those of us who don’t deserve it.”
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The Chronicles of the Dark One: Magical Loopholes
Chapter 17: Their Town
He was learning to take the good with the bad, or perhaps he was learning to take the bad with the good. It depended on the situation.
He'd spent an amazing thirty-six hours with Belle, though he hadn't planned on it. He'd come home from work on Saturday evening with every intention of going back to work on Sunday. But then Sunday morning had come and gone, the afternoon had come and gone, the evening had arrived again, and they'd been unable to tear themselves away from each other even if they'd wanted to. It was, by far, the longest amount of time they'd spent together since the Winter days in the Dark Castle, and though he knew he probably should regret it to a certain extent, there were other things he could have been doing with that time, he couldn't bring himself to feel shame for it. They'd spent their time resting in one another just as much as they'd spent it loving one another. They'd talked. About how she'd apparently taught herself to use the washer and dryer, about the Curse, even Emma Swan and his history with her parents. Yes, there were certainly plenty of other things he could have done, but when he thought about the way she'd kissed him last night and told him she loved him and never wanted him to leave her side...it had been a perfect day.
Until Belle had awakened in the early hours of the morning, screaming and screeching out of the dead sleep he held her in. The Nightmares…they'd finally begun to take their toll. The drugs she'd been given at the hospital to keep her calm and complacent were finally making their way completely out of her body, and it was those nightmares that now succeeded in summoning her from sleep. "I know my name," she'd mumbled as she cried while he'd held her. "I know my name, I know your name, I know where I am, I know my name." Those sentences were all it took to confirm his suspicions about her "alternate Storybrooke Persona." She hadn't had one. No memories, no name, no understanding of where she was or who she was, or even where she was from. She'd been a blank slate, a fate nearly as bad as Regina keeping her alive to kill her any time she'd please. If it weren't for their deal, he'd have left then and there to kill the witch for that. But instead, he'd stayed up with her. It had taken nearly an hour to relax her enough that she went back to sleep after that. He'd stayed up guarding her slumber in case the nightmares came back, but they never did.
In the early morning hours, he determined with much sadness and regret that he needed to go to work. This time in Storybrooke, the fires and riots and questions…it was getting old. He was getting tired of waiting for things to cool down, tired of waiting for Emma and Mary Margaret. Yes, he was certain they'd come back, but it had taken him centuries to get from the Enchanted Forest to this world. He wanted Emma and Mary Margaret to return so that the Savior could fulfill her end of the bargain and take him to his son, but with no other hints other than "they'd gone through a portal," he needed to start thinking through some alternatives. He'd never traveled outside of Storybrooke so long as he'd been here, but he had memories of doing just that. Perhaps he didn't need the Savior. Perhaps he just needed to take Belle with him and go. But of course, that required knowing where Baelfire was, and for that, he needed Booth.
And yet, when he arrived at work and used his magic to take himself to him, the exact same thing that had happened before happened again. It was, once more, a different section of the forest, but it was enough to confirm his suspicion. Booth was hiding from him on purpose. He didn't know where he got the magic or how to break it yet, but he knew it wouldn't hold forever.
"I'll find you one of these days, dearie!" he called out into what appeared to be nothing. "You owe me a debt, and you can't hide forever! The Dark One always gets what he wants!"
Bad with good, good with bad.
Lunch was another reminder of this. Though he may have failed to find Booth in the morning, coming in to see Belle that afternoon was a bright spot in his day. Until he walked in the front door and smelled something strange in his house: lemons, cleanser, roses, and bleach. The scents clung to her when she put her arms around him in welcome and when he looked over her shoulders, and around his house, he could see why he smelled them easily. She'd been cleaning. Clutter was organized into small, sorted piles, piles that had been there the day before had suddenly vanished, the banister gleamed as it never had, and the floors damn near sparkled. His house had always smelled dusty and old. Suddenly it smelled new and vibrant, and it bothered him.
If it was vibrant because she was there, that was one thing, but having her clean and organize, coming home to find she already had lunch prepared like she'd had nothing better to do than wait on him hand and foot…it wasn't what he wanted.
"You know, you don't have to do these things, Belle!" he pressed as they sat down with their lunch. "You are free to go about your day and do as you like. You aren't a maid anymore."
"Caretaker," she'd snapped almost defensively. "And until the town is safe for me to visit, it's not as though there is much else for me to do with my time. I tried to turn on the picture box. It was dull."
"Television," he corrected.
"I enjoy keeping busy; this kind of work keeps my mind busy. And obviously, you haven't had time for it while you've been here, so I may as well."
"But there are other things-"
"Even if there were other things for me to do, where would you propose I do them? Other than the bedroom, there's not a chair in this house that isn't covered in clutter or dust. I need to get to know this world, Rumple. This is what I know, so I'll continue with my work while you continue with yours. Unless, of course…unless I can go to town with you after lunch then, maybe…"
He held in his shudder as she looked at him eagerly. She wanted to go to town. He knew she wanted to go to town. She asked about it every damn day. Truthfully, if she was going to go with him and sit in his shop all day, he probably would have taken her by now. But he had work to do, work that involved Baelfire and Booth and magic, and he suspected that she wouldn't like any of that one bit. They hadn't broached the topic of his son since they'd been back together yet, and he didn't intend to bring it up until it was absolutely necessary, until he was ready to leave to find him, and he had a plan for her.
"The town is healing, but still not safe. I haven't laid eyes on Regina in days, and trust me, being stuck in the shop all day is far worse than being here. It's safe here, Belle. The town just needs more time."
He didn't lie to her entirely. From a matter of perspective, being at the shop all day, knowing that she was at home cleaning was a terrible fate considering all he ached to do was spend that time with her. And for her, it would be more of the same. What was there to do at the shop except perhaps clean, and if the way she was overturning his home with it was any indication, the last place he wanted her was in the shop.
In truth, his own options for his day were nearly as limited as Belle's were. He was certain, almost positive, that Regina and David would come to him at some point. Regina, because with David taking care of Henry, she'd be miserable and have nothing to do with her life but to fall into old habits, and those old habits meant complaining to him. He'd have a few choice words for her when he saw her again, given what had happened last night with Belle, but as much as he hated it, she was still a player in this until he got his son back and if he needed to bargain with her for Belle's safety while he was away, he would do it. David, on the other hand, he was certain would visit because he had nothing else to do, nothing left to do. Not only were Mary Margaret and Emma going to try and make their way back to this realm, but he did not doubt that David and Henry would do what they could to assist them, if not go to that realm themselves. He was the only one David knew, besides Regina, that had magical insight. It was only a matter of time until he showed up at the shop. Which begged the question, why hadn't he shown up already. It had been days since the Curse was broken, and Mary Margaret and Emma disappeared. What the hell was taking so long?
Unable to get to Booth or come up with anything productive to do. He'd taken a walk about the town, thinking he might hear some gossip or offer a glimpse of himself for David, to tempt him into talking so that he might gain insight into what was happening. What he saw was not only eye-opening, but it was also shocking.
When he'd told Belle the town was healing but still not safe, he'd been speaking from what he'd seen on his commute. There were fewer people crowded in the streets. Fires appeared to be put out, even a few of the powerlines had been restored, probably by the dwarves. But as his feet guided him around, he found that it wasn't entirely untrue. Not really.
On the street, he saw a piece of paper, a flyer that matched several he'd seen on lampposts and the sides of buildings he was certain hadn't been there before. Curious as to what he'd missed the day before, he picked it up and found that it was a flyer for a Town Meeting being called by Prince Charming himself. That was an interesting development. David was trying to organize the town while Emma and Mary Margaret were still missing?! That was…not exactly like the prince he'd once known. But all around him, as he walked, he began to see more and more signs of organization.
Others were directing people to go to the town hall and "register." He walked by, saw long lines of people standing in the front, all waiting for their opportunity to get to a table where David, Ruby, and Granny sat with books and pens, frantically writing away. Dwarves walked the lines, handing out the flyers he'd seen. Archie and Pongo were scouting, walking through the lines where occasionally he pulled someone out of line, exchanging the individual with Pongo as they stepped aside to talk. The conversation usually ended in Archie giving them a card and then jotting something down in a notebook before he walked them back to the line and took Pongo again.
It appeared to be a well-oiled machine. There were tears and people were crying, the lines were longer than a DMV, but it was organized and fluid and-
Ah…perhaps it wasn't what it seemed. On the outside, it looked like organization. It appeared as though the once Royal Court was trying its hardest to connect people with their loved ones and get everyone back home. All but one of that court appeared to be happy doing their job.
David. The King, himself.
A sudden movement at the tables up front caught his eye, David angrily moving away from the table. To a casual observer, it would appear he wanted nothing more than to use the bathroom inside Town Hall, but the way he grabbed the door and flung it open like that…something was bothering him. And he wasn't the only one to sense it. Half a second later, Ruby got up from her place, smiling, looking apologetically at the people in front of her and Granny as she followed after him. Henry appeared from somewhere before she made it to the door, but she only gestured for Henry to go to Granny, and the boy wandered down to the table and sat down where David had been only a moment ago.
He wondered…
He used his magic and let himself into the second-floor atrium of the Town Hall, oddly quiet and empty considering the crowd outside. Well, quiet, if not for the voices of Ruby and David floating up to him.
"It's not enough!" David yelled. "I can be doing more; I should be doing more."
"David, I know it feels that way, but there might not be anything that we can do for them now. And this town, this town is on the brink of falling apart completely if they don't have a good role model to keep them calm and tell them-"
"You do it! You can do it, Ruby. You can tell them everything is going to be okay!"
"I can't, David! You are what they know, not me! As far as they are concerned, you are their Prince, their King, and they need guidance from you, not from a wolf!
"I'm about as much a King as you are a wolf."
"David…I know this is hard-"
"You don't have any idea how hard this is, how much time we wasted…and then we get her back and now they're both just gone?! Mary Margaret is the one they need, not me! They need Emma. She's the Savior. I need to get them back, and then I can help the people. That is how I help them, by making sure my family does what they do best."
"You don't have time!" Ruby hollered at him with all the insistence that a mother might have with a child. "Everyone outside that door is in crisis, David, everyone! We are barely keeping them together as it is. They're not going to sit around and wait for you or for Mary Margaret or for Emma. They need us now."
"Mary Margaret and Emma-"
"Will be fine! They have each other. And you and I both know that Mary Margaret won't stop until she's back at your side. They'll make it back, David…let's make sure there's a town for them to come back to."
There was silence. A long silence. And when he looked over the railing to try and spot the two, he saw David storm out of the Town Hall. Ruby took a breath and crossed her arms angrily over her chest before she wiped her eyes, then followed after him.
Back outside, standing by a bulletin board of people who were marked as "Missing" he watched the pair sit back down at the table with smiles on their face as if nothing bad had happened. So…it was Ruby who was the ringleader in this, Ruby who was keeping David on track, Ruby who was making sure the King did his job. Good for her. Not so good for him. But fortunately, the conversation told him that David was itching to do something, that he was struggling with his title and the lack of involvement. He wasn't going to stay restrained for too much longer. Eventually, he would break free, and that was when he would come to him. What answers he had, he didn't know yet, but he'd give what he could to make the Seer's prophecy come true. And for that, he was going to need David to stand aside. If what he'd seen told him anything, it was that David would not allow Emma to go with him quietly or accept the deal he'd made. But David Nolan and Mary Margaret Blanchard were not part of the Seer's Prophecy regarding how he'd find his son. Emma would be his guide, and a boy would lead him there. A boy that could be August Booth or perhaps David's own grandson. Either way, he needed David's assurance he wouldn't interfere. The magic would take care of the rest.
And as for Regina-
As he turned to leave, a familiar face stared out at him from the bulletin board and stopped him dead in his tracks. It was a crude drawing, one without details, but he knew those cheekbones, just as he knew that hair, and best of all, knew that mouth. It was a drawing of Belle. The eyes gave him pause only for a moment. The drawing depicted her with green eyes, several shades off from the blue ones he'd spent all day yesterday and last night staring into. The eyes were wrong, but he'd spent nearly all his time yesterday admiring that skin not to recognize the face, and it chilled him to his blood. "Missing," the poster said at the top in big black letters. "Please contact Moe at Game of Thorns."
After looking this way and that to be sure no one was watching him, he reached out and tore the picture down from its place on the bulletin board, one of many people that others were searching for. He could leave it. He was confident in that. No one in this town knew Belle, knew that she was alive or where she was, except maybe Regina. But after the conversations he'd had with Belle regarding her childhood, her history, how her father had been so willing to just hand her over to a monster of a fiancé to do as he saw fit with her…
He folded the paper up in a flash of anger and slipped it into his pocket before leaving for the shop.
The damn man couldn't even get the color of his own daughter's eyes right! No one, not even her own father, knew his Belle. And he'd be damned if he ever let a man like her father tear her from his side again.
#Rumbelle#Rumple#Rumpelstiltskin#Dark One#mr. gold#Belle#David Nolan#Prince Charming#Snowing#little red riding hood#Ruby#ouat#ouat fanfiction#fanfic
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The thrill of it all (2/9)
Summary: Rose and Tom have been together for 7 years when he breaks up with her. She has no idea why. Tom regrets it almost immediately but still moves on. Until he realized what a huge mistake he has made.
Pairing: Tom Hiddleston / OFC
Warnings: angst
can also be found on AO3
Masterlist
Rose spent 3 whole days in agony after Tom left her in their home. Their home. She liked the house the first moment she laid her eyes on it. Tom just came back from yet another Marvel movie, rocking his black hair. She secretly loved him with black hair. It made his eyes so much more intense. On the other hand he could be bald and she would still love him.
“Can’t it wait till tomorrow, Darling? I have been on a plane for the last 12 hours. I don’t even know which time zone my body is in.”, he had whined and pouted. He hated flying and Rose knew that.
“I will do anything you want if you do this for me now. I really really feel like this could be it.”,, she had answered him, her hands behind his neck.
“Anything I want? That is an offer I can’t resist.”, he had smirked and kissed her breathless.
They had looked at so many houses, that the moment Tom’s car parked in front of the beautiful white building she had already decided that this is where they would live.
”Come on Tom. It even has a green/golden door. It must be faith.” Rose had giggled when they went up the stairs to greet the realtor. He only shook his head and took her had at that. A little smirk on his face.
“I will do anything you want if you do this for me now. I really really feel like this could be it.”,, she had answered him, her hands behind his neck.
“Anything I want? That is an offer I can’t resist.”, he had smirked and kissed her breathless.
They had looked at so many houses, that the moment Tom’s car parked in front of the beautiful white building she had already decided that this is where they would live.
”Come on Tom. It even has a green/golden door. It must be faith.” Rose had giggled when they went up the stairs to greet the realtor. He only shook his head and took her had at that. A little smirk on his face.
The trip down memory lane was interrupted by the doorbell. Rose sighed. Back to real life it was.
“You look like hell”, where the first words out of Emma’s mouth. Tom’s sister had become one of her closest friends in the last couple of years. The blonde woman hugged Rose and handed her a very delicious smelling cup of coffee.
“Well if your dear brother hadn’t broken up with me, my looks would for sure be a whole lot better.” Rose looked at her friend and took a big sip of her coffee.
“I still can’t believe it. Why would he do something like this?”
Rose looked at Emma. She looked so much like Tom. Sometimes she thought they secretly where twins.
“I only know that he met another woman back in New York.”
“Well she must have made an impression.”, Emma whispered more to herself than for Rose to hear.
“I bet she has.” Tears where in Rose’s eyes again. She blinked them away.
“Sorry that was beyond rude.”
“It’s nothing I haven’t thought of in the last days. I keep thinking about what I did wrong in the past. Maybe we did not make enough time for each other…”, Rose started but was interrupted from Emma.
“Don’t do this. I hope that once he calms down you will get the answers you are searching for. No point in thinking about it now when you won’t get them.”
“Easier said as done.”
“I know. So what should we do? Get drunk? Eat ice cream? Watch as many Ryan Gosling movies as we can get our hands on?”
They went to the kitchen to sit.
“I need your help Emma. I know you are his sister, but I need someone to help me pack my things. And there’s a lot of it.”
“But Tom said you could stay here. I talked to him yesterday.”
“I don’t want to. We build this home together. I can’t continue to live here without him. Every stupid things holds a memory. I just can’t.” Rose shook her head. Yesterday she cried because of the pillow Tom and her had bought together on their first vacation in Egypt. Emma scooted next to her friend and wrapped her arms around her. Embracing her in a tight hug.
“I understand. I will help you. You can stay with me if you want to. Or with mum. I bet she won’t talk to Tom for at least 5 years after this stunt.”
“I couldn’t…”
“Yes you could and you will. You know mom always thought of you as her third daughter. I do to by the way. Just because you two aren’t together anymore, doesn’t mean you are going to lose us.”
“Thank you Emma.”
“Every time. So, you don’t have to pack everything now. Just grab what you’ll need for the next week and we’ll be back then.”
“I can’t. If I’m going to stay with you, till I find a new place I don’t want to constantly have to get back here to pick up things. I want to pack everything now. As long…” she took a breath. “As long as Tom’s not here.”
“I understand. So. Let’s get a couple of boxes and start?”
It took Rose and Emma 2 days to pack everything up. Rose’s whole life was now standing in the living room, packed in about 40 boxes. She didn’t realize how much stuff she had, until this moment.
Emma was already in her car, waiting for Rose to join her.
Rose had a couple of moments for herself. She went up to the library. It has always been her favourite place of the house. The smell of books and something which could only be described as typically Tom always made her homesick. Because her home was Tom. Not this house. She realized in this moment, that it would be next to impossible to find a new home. She would be able to find a new house. To find new furniture. To paint the walls by herself. But to find someone like Tom again…
He used to practically live in this room when he was learning his lines. Only interrupted when he was hungry or tired. Every so often she had found him passed out on the window seat, his script on his chest. His glasses deep down on his nose, about to fall off. She shook her head. A light smile on her lips.
Even after the heartbreak she could not not miss him. Not not love him. She desperately tried to hate him for what he did. But she couldn’t.
She tucked the letter she wrote this morning in his favourite book and left their house.
The next days were spend constantly on the internet. Rose tried to find a new place to stay in London first. Her whole life she lived in London, so why change it now? Sure she had planned to go to LA, but alone?
That’s when she saw the message her friend Ryan had sent her after they talked.
He had invited her so stay with his family for the next couple of months and to write. She was supposed to write a few songs with him anyway and there were worse things than staying in San Francisco for a couple of months.
As much as she loved the whole Hiddleston family, they all reminded her of Tom.
She still couldn’t wrap her head around all that happened. Sure they had their problems. Like in every relationship not everything was pink and fluffy all the time. But the majority of the last years had been perfect. She had been with him when he got the part playing Loki, which changed his whole career. And he had been with her on every step of her way to make a name for herself in the music industry. They practically grew up together. Career wise.
Maybe in all of this she lost the sight of what was important? Should she have made more time for him?
Shaking her head she closed her notebook and made herself ready. She had to tell her father that Tom and her had broken up.
Visiting her father was something Rose did every week.
So when she postponed last week, he immediately got suspicious. They had a special bond. Rose’s mother died 20 years ago, while on her way to bring their son, David, Rose’s brother to football practice. A moving truck overlooked them crossing the street. They had no chance. Both of them died in the week after the accident in the hospital. Rose had been 9 years old at this time.
It had been him and Rose ever since. They didn’t have any other family.
When he opened the door to welcome his daughter on that day it took about 20 seconds before she flung herself crying into his arms.
“It’s going to be okay. You survived worse.” Her father soothed her and half hour later, after she calmed herself. Rose was proud of herself for only falling apart once while another person was present.
“I know. Dad?”
“Yes?”
“I think I’m going to stay with Ryan for a couple months.”
“In the states?”
“San Francisco. I always wanted to go and I can’t be here right now.”
“I understand. Maybe I’ll come visit you.”
“You should. Ryan’s house is as big as Buckingham palace. I bet he has a room for you.” Rose smiled.
Diana was just on her way back home after visiting Emma, when her phone ringed.
She took a deep breath before she answered the call.
“Hello Thomas.”
“Hi Mum…” Tom had been trying to postpone this call for a while now.
“So, how are you?” Diana asked her son.
“I’m… I don’t know how I am.” No point in lying to her.
“Then come home and fix it. She is a mess Tom. She’s trying to figure out why you don’t want to be with her anymore and so am I to be completely honest with you.”
“I want her to be happy. I want her to get married and have kids.”
“But she wants to have that with you. Why did you break up with her?” She asked softly.
“I don’t love her like I used to.”
“But you still love her?”
“I don’t think I ever won’t.” he admitted honestly. He heard his name been called from the outside.
“Then please think about it. I don’t want you to regret this decision for the rest of your life.” Diana pleaded her son.
“Thank you mom. Love you.”
“Love you too.” She sighed and disconnected the call.
She hoped for her son’s sake that he made the right decision for himself. Even if she couldn’t understand it.
Tom went to the window where he had a view over the ocean. Several people were down at the beach. Music was playing. He was happy and sad at the same time. He saw her smiling at one of her friends before her eyes shifted and found his She smiled and he smiled back, giving her a small wave to show her he’ll be down shortly. Tom stepped away from the window and looked at himself in the mirror.
He didn’t love her. But he could. He for sure had a crush on her. He rolled his eyes. How old was he? 12?
No. He had to try. And even if it was just to prove to himself that he made the right decision in breaking up with Rose.
….
“I really really want to call him and ask him what on earth is wrong with him.”, Ben shook his head and looked at Rose.
“Well, get in line. I know at least 4 other people, me included.”
It has now been 19 days since Tom broke up with her. But it had only been 16 hours ago when pictures of Tom kissing another woman came out all over the world. And it hurted. Like hell. In that moment she was glad that they had a very private relationship. She only went to a couple of events with him. They hadn’t been seen together in almost 2 years if she remembered correctly.
“Are you doing okay?” Ben asked. He wanted to check on her earlier, but he only got back to the UK yesterday. When he saw the paparazzi pictures of Tom with Taylor only after waking up this morning, he had to reach out immediately.
“I’m thinking about leaving for a little while.”
“Oh?”
“Well Ryan is working on a new project and wanted my opinion. I also happen to have written a couple of songs in the last weeks, which I wanted to get out there. I should probably just sell them to Adele. She’s good with stuff like that.”
“Oh Rosie.” Ben sighed.
“No it’s okay. I have to move on. Somehow.”
“But it’s okay to take your time for that. Don’t do anything just for the sake of moving on.”
“I won’t. I wanted to leave London for a little while anyway.”
“I know. Sophie complained about it ever since you two announced it.”, Ben chuckled.
“She’s only complaining because she’s losing her best babysitter.”
“Aren’t you the godmother of my first born or do I recall that wrong?”
“You don’t. But I still can be godmothering from another continent. And it won’t be forever.”
“It better not be.” He smiled “Call me if you ever need anything. I mean it.”
“I will.”
In the middle of August Rose found herself in her best friend Ryan’s studio at his house.
“It’s wonderful.” Ryan looked at her in awe.
“Thank you. Do you think someone would be interested?”
“They would be insane to not be. But are you sure?”
“Why wouldn’t I? Something good has to come out of this whole mess.”
Ryan sighed and looked at his friend. She was a shadow of the woman, he used to work with. Her usually sunkissed skin pale, she had lost weight and her blonde hair was in a messy bun on top of her head. He had met Rose about 15 years ago after a concert back in London, when she gave him a demo tape of a song she recorded. That happened occasionally back in the day. But when he sat down and listened to her song, he heard big potential. So he contacted her and worked with her ever since. It was her song that got his band a nomination for their first Grammy 6 years ago.
“These are your feelings, your deepest feelings which would be sang out to the world by someone else. Don’t get me wrong. This is next level stuff. You have to be absolutely sure that you want this.”
“Maybe I should just release it myself.”, Rose joked.
“With your voice I don’t know why you haven’t earlier to be honest.”
“I was joking Ryan.”
“I don’t.”
She shook her head.
“I don’t think I could live with either way at the moment, if I’m fully honest.”
“Take your time. It’s barely been 3 months since all of this happened. You don’t just get over the last 7 years in a snap.”
“But I wish I could. I miss him. So much.” Rose shifted her eyes to the corner of the room, holding her tears in. She hadn’t cried since she got to the states 3 weeks ago. There were still times at night, when she woke up, that she reached out to the place in bed next to her, when it hit her, that there was no one. But she didn’t cry in those moments. She was done crying.
“I know Sweetheart. I know.” Ryan scooted closer to her, and wrapped one arm around her shoulder.
“Not to sound cliché but it will get easier.”
“You’re one to talk. You’ve been married for nearly 20 years.”
“Well yes, but I was young and heartbroken once too.”, he winked at her.
“Idiot.” She giggled.
“Come on. Let’s get upstairs before my wife sends in the searching troop.”
>> Chapter 3
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The Facebook Flub (2/3)
Summary: When Emma accidentally sends a friend request to the wrong person, she doesn’t expect much to come of it. But maybe this accident is the best decision she’s ever made.
Rated: Maybe high T if we’re really being technical?? Nothing explicit
Part 1: Tumblr | AO3
Part 2: AO3
A/N: Massive thank you to everyone for all the love for this story so far. I was really nervous about posting it there for a while, so the likes, reblogs, kudos, comments, etc. have meant the world to me. Thanks again @thejollyroger-writer, @wellhellotragic , and @profdanglaisstuff for all your help and for leaving questionable comments on the Google Doc to entertain me.
“What do you mean, love?” Killian’s eyes widened. She could make out a bit of a flush on his cheeks, and was that a glint in his eye too? Or was she just seeing what she wanted to?
Emma’s pulse raced. There was an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach that she refused to call butterflies. Maybe the conversation she’d had in mind wasn’t a great idea after all. “Shouldn’t you have checked into your hotel by now? It’s getting late.” It was barely four.
“Oh.” He averted his gaze, and whatever she thought she might have seen there was now gone. She had caught him off guard. Seeing a glint in his eyes was probably just her imagination, but regardless, the idea that she may have disappointed him stung. “I suppose you’re right. Bloody hell, I don’t even remember where it is I’m supposed to go.”
“I can drive you.” Emma stood and nodded her head in the direction of the lot she’d parked in earlier. “Just put the address in my phone. We should be able to find it easily.”
She was right. His hotel was a short drive, a relief since she was unsure how much time she could spend alone in the car with him without blurting out something else stupid.
“If you want, you can go ahead and check in while I get your bag out of the trunk,��� she told him as they got out of the car.
“That’s alright, Swan. You don’t have to worry about it.”
“Really, it’s not a big deal.” It would buy her a few more minutes if had to say goodbye to him since she’d never got around to asking about his schedule while he was in the city. “Go ahead. I’ll be there in a minute.”
Emma took her time retrieving his bag, something that should have taken all of thirty seconds if not for her increasing paranoia. Was this the last time she would get to see him before he went back to London? The conversation she’d dodged earlier may never happen at the rate things were going.
When she entered the hotel lobby, Killian was at the front desk, in the middle of what was obviously a heated conversation with the receptionist. She took his bag to the side and waited to see what was going on.
After a few minutes, he stepped away from the desk and came over to where she was. There was a sour expression on his face, his mouth twisted to one side. “Everything okay?” she asked.
“Not exactly. Apparently, the hotel lost my bloody reservation.” He ran a hand over his face and groaned. “The receptionist said they would try to find another arrangement, but it doesn’t look promising. Do you know of any decent hotels in the area?”
She started to name a few that came to mind and then paused. “I have a semi-comfortable couch you’re more than willing to crash on. If you’d rather not, that’s fine,” she added, seeing the surprised look on his face. “Just thought I’d mention it if you didn’t want to go to the trouble of looking for something else.”
“That’s very kind of you, Swan, but I’d hate to impose. I’m going to be here until Friday afternoon.”
At least she had an answer to one question. “You wouldn’t be imposing. No maid service, unfortunately, but there’s Netflix and a few pints of Ben and Jerry’s in the freezer.” Thank goodness she’d stress cleaned the apartment that morning. She would have died a bit inside if he’d seen what it had looked like before.
Killian laughed. “Granny’s, the bakery, and now ice cream- you really want me to gain weight on this trip, don’t you? But if you’re sure it wouldn’t be too much trouble, I believe I’ll take you up on that offer.”
It was during the drive back to her apartment that Emma fully started to comprehend what she’d gotten into. Having Killian stay with her for the next two nights seemed to have two potential outcomes: she could either act on her feelings and resume the earlier conversation the first chance she got, or keep them to herself and take the risk of spontaneously combusting in the process. The logical part of her knew avoiding the subject would only make things worse and surprisingly the part of her that was afraid of being hurt again even felt willing to take the risk.
“Here we are,” she announced when they arrived, stepping in before Killian and giving the place a quick once over to make sure she hadn’t left anything weird laying around. “It’s clean by my standards, but I still feel like I should apologize for the mess knowing how picky you are.”
“I’m not picky. I simply have...odd preferences where my own flat is concerned.”
“Preferences like the handles on coffee mugs facing out at a perfect forty-five-degree angle in your cabinet?” She couldn’t remember what conversation had prompted Killian to share that with her, but she hadn’t passed up an opportunity to tease him about it since.
“Judge all you want, love, but I’m willing to bet I have a much easier time retrieving a mug in the morning than you do.”
Killian had a good point there. She usually just chucked hers in the cabinet and complained about them later. “Touche. But remind me not to let you get a look in my cabinets; you don’t need to have a heart attack before you’ve even hit thirty.” Something told her he didn’t need to see what the inside of her closet looked like either.
Not that there was a likely chance he’d be in her bedroom any time over the next two days. She refused to entertain the idea.
“You can leave your stuff in here by the couch if you want,” she said, leading him into the living room. “It’s not the nicest thing in the world, but it’s comfy. I’ve crashed there a handful of nights myself after a Netflix binge.”
“Did I have involvement in any of those?” She couldn’t help but notice the way his eyebrowed danced at that.
“Please, you had involvement in all of them, but not like that. Get your mind out of the gutter.”
Neither of them were hungry after the late lunch and the stop at the bakery, so Emma suggested another Netflix binge for the meantime. The jet lag was also starting to catch up with Killian. He disappeared into her bathroom while she turned on the TV and came out a few minutes later wearing an Iron Man t-shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants that fit him entirely too well. She was convinced she could make out the muscles in his legs through the thin fabric.
Not that she was staring.
Maybe she was.
It was a struggle to tear her eyes away from him as she took a seat on her preferred side of the couch.
“You can do the honors,” she said, handing him the TV remote when he sat down on the other side.
“Do you have any preferences?”
“Nah. As long as it’s funny, but everything we watch usually ticks that box.”
Killian scrolled through the lists of recent additions and what was currently popular. “Perhaps we could watch a movie instead for once. I’m assuming you’ve already seen Thor: Ragnarok?”
“Several times, but I’m always down for a rewatch.”
He flashed her a smile, and Emma had to remind herself to breathe. “I was hoping you’d say that. Ragnarok it is then.”
The next two hours were pure torture. Okay, maybe she was being a bit dramatic. She got to watch one of her favorite movies with arguably her favorite person- and in person too, something she had never thought would happen. But that was also the problem. Her feelings had been so much easier to ignore when they were out earlier and she had other things to distract her from saying something she might regret. Now, they were alone together in her apartment, with only a few feet of space on the couch between them, while Killian wore a seemingly harmless outfit that gave her anything but harmless thoughts.
And he would be staying tomorrow night too. It would be a miracle if she got through his visit in one piece.
“I can’t believe you’re not exhausted,” Emma told him when the end credits began to play. “It’s after midnight in London, and you haven’t yawned once.” Despite his usual insomnia, she would have still expected him to be somewhat tired between his earlier flight and the time change.
He shrugged. “I’m not full of energy by any means, but I wouldn’t say I’m quite ready to turn in either.”
“Are you hungry now? I’m kind of low on groceries until I get a chance to go to the store, but I think I’ve got a few bags of microwave popcorn. Unless you want the Ben and Jerry’s.”
Killian pursed his lips and considered the options. “Hmm. Something tells me the ice cream has more calories, and I’ve already eaten more than enough today.”
“Popcorn it is. You can pick out something else to watch while I make it.”
She returned from the kitchen a few minutes later with two bags of cooked popcorn, the opening sequence for Ant-Man and the Wasp paused on the TV screen. “I wouldn’t say it’s quite as humorous as Ragnarok, but you’re always saying how underrated these movies are, and I can’t remember what happens in the last half.”
“Sounds good.” Emma handed him one of the popcorn bags and plopped down beside him on the couch, propping her feet up on the coffee table as he pressed play.
It was about half an hour or so later when she’d finished her own popcorn and was working through what was left of his that she first noticed the considerable lack of space between them now. They were less than a foot apart; their thighs would be touching if one of them scooted over a bit toward the other. From this position, she could get a whiff of his cologne that she hadn’t noticed earlier. And his scruff looked particularly good in the dim light of her living room.
She swore to herself and fixed her eyes on the TV. Paul Rudd was not quite as enticing as the man sitting beside her, but he would have to do for the sake of her dignity.
Emma didn’t remember either of them falling asleep. But she woke up sometime later to a dark TV screen and her head on Killian’s chest. He was out cold. She could hear him snoring softly; he would be getting teased for that later.
Had she fallen asleep on him first? She would have had to. The TV would be back on the Netflix home screen unless Killian had turned it off himself. The thought of falling asleep on him didn’t concern her nearly as much as how much she liked it though. His arm was draped around her shoulders, feeling more like a welcome presence than the heavy weight she would have expected. The fabric of his t-shirt felt warm against her cheek, which rose and fell with every breath he took. It had been months if not years since she’d cuddled with another person (even if unintentional), and yet she was reluctant to slip out of his grasp. At this rate, with both of them on the couch, Killian would surely wake up with a crick in his neck, but if she got up, she might be able to maneuver him onto his back without waking him up.
It’s better this way, Emma told herself as the door to her bedroom clicked shut behind her. It would have been awkward for both of you if he’d woken up and seen you like that. You just have to make sure it doesn’t happen again.
(Despite how much she wanted it to.)
She woke up a few hours later to the sound of the shower running in the bathroom. A glance at the clock on her phone told her it was just after seven; entirely too early by her own standards, but she knew Killian’s first day of meetings would be starting soon. The idea of rolling over and going back to sleep was tempting, but she dragged herself out of bed and down the hall to the kitchen. Their options for breakfast were limited, but she could at least make them toast and coffee if nothing else.
The coffee pot had just started to brew when Killian entered the kitchen, wearing a navy button-down shirt and grey slacks. The fact that he looked so good in plain colors was almost unfair. “Good morning, Swan.”
“Morning. Sleep well?”
“Aye. I suppose I was more knackered than I’d thought.”
Her stomach dropped when she remembered the way she’d woken up and found them. “That’s good. That you slept well, I mean.”
But if he had any feelings about their brief sleeping arrangement (if he even remembered), he made no effort to mention it. “Anything I can assist you with?”
“There’s some bread in the bottom drawer of the fridge if you wanna put a few pieces in the toaster,” she said, nodding toward where it sat on the counter. “I’ll try to stop by the store on my way home from work to make sure we have something decent for dinner.”
“You don’t have to do that on my account, love. It’s not as if you knew you were going to have company for the better part of two days.” His hair was slightly damp from the shower and she could smell his shampoo when he stepped around her to get the bread from the refrigerator.
“Who said it was on your account?” she teased. “Maybe I don’t want to have popcorn again for dinner.”
Killian gave her a look of mock disappointment as he put two slices of bread in the toaster and pushed the lever down. “You wound me, Swan. And I thought you cared.”
If only you knew how much. “Yeah, yeah. What time do you have to head out?”
“I’ll probably call an Uber a bit before nine, just to make sure I have plenty of time to find the place.”
“Sounds good. I would offer to drive you, but I’m not sure when I’ll be home after work and the store, so you’d probably have to Uber back anyway to keep from waiting. Remind me to give you my spare key before you go too.”
“Will do.” He gestured to the coffee pot, which was now full. “Is there perhaps a cup of that with my name on it?”
“Potentially. But look away while I get mugs out of my unorganized cabinet.”
“And you call me overdramatic.”
Between paperwork and thoughts of her houseguest, Emma’s day dragged horribly. All she could focus on was that previous night with Killian and everything that had happened (and not happened) since his arrival. Other than the insinuation that he wasn’t seeing anyone back in London, she had more questions than answers. Questions about his feelings for her, about the chances of him returning to Boston again.
She left the office early that afternoon. There wasn’t much more that could be done until she went on her next stakeout, and the grocery store would be a madhouse if she waited to go when people started getting off of work. As she began making a mental list of what to pick up, she received a text from Killian.
Meetings have finally wrapped for the day, thank goodness. I’m heading back to your flat to recuperate before tomorrow.
Emma smiled when she read his message, both because of the obvious reasons, and that he would be around to put his cooking skills to use.
Good. I’m buying stuff for us to make dinner before I come home.
She had planned to get something simple like a frozen pizza or premade meals for dinner, but he was inspiring her to step out of the box every once in a while.
An hour later, she arrived at her apartment with a load of grocery bags that she somehow managed to bring up in just one trip. Killian walked in from the living room in time to see her unbagging various items. He was wearing the same sweatpants from the night before, this time with a Metallica shirt and mismatched socks she would tease him about for at least the next six months. “Hello, Swan. What have you got there?”
Emma held up the jar of marinara sauce and pack of chicken she’d bought. “Stuff for chicken parm. I know you mentioned making it for Liam and Belle before. This recipe I found looks easy enough that I can help without causing a disaster.”
He raised an eyebrow skeptically, but she could see the corners of his mouth turning up. “You really have a lot of confidence in yourself.”
“For taking down bail jumpers? Yes. For cooking a decent meal? Hell no.”
“It’s not all that tricky, love.” He came over to help her unbag the groceries. “Especially if you pick a partner who knows what he’s doing.”
Something in his voice told her that ideology wasn’t just limited to cooking. Emma hoped he didn’t notice her face reddening at the thought of other possibilities. Did he know how difficult it was for her to keep her composure around him now? “Yeah, well, if this partner knows what he’s doing as well as he claims, he can start on the chicken while I put the other groceries away.”
Killian had finished mixing eggs and making the breading and parmesan mixture by the time she’d put most of her things away. The only thing remaining on the counter was a separate bag of groceries she’d put to the side. “Were you going to put those away too?” he asked when he spotted them.
Emma shook her head. “Nope. That’s for something later.” She had to bite her lip to hold back a smile; something told her he would get a kick out of what she had planned.
Her attempts at helping him cook their dinner lasted all of ten minutes when she came close to putting cilantro instead of parsley on the chicken. The only reason she hadn’t was because Killian had spotted the label on the side of the bottle. “I can’t even read labels now? Are we really sure I’m an adult?”
He had his back turned to her. He was probably laughing and didn’t want her to see. “They do look somewhat similar. It would have been an honest mistake, love.”
“One I’m really glad you caught before it was too late.” Emma had since resorted to sitting at the kitchen table and watching him boil pasta and prepare the now-browned chicken for baking. The way that he seemed to be at ease in the kitchen was something she doubted that she would ever understand. There was too much she could screw up at any given moment. “I feel bad that this was my idea and you’re doing all the work though.”
“There’s nothing to feel bad about. It’s a fairly simple dish.”
“Simple when you don’t have the cooking skills of a five-year-old.”
Killian paused for a moment. Then, “If you’d like, you can put the pasta into plates when it’s done.”
“I’ll try my best.”
The meal was great, something Emma was sure had to do with her lack of involvement. She and Killian ate at the kitchen table and shared stories about their niece and nephews.
“You seriously lost a six-year-old in Disneyland?” she asked in the middle of his relaying an incident from their family vacation to Paris the previous summer.
“Aye. Certainly not one of my finer moments. I was bloody terrified, both over where she was and what I knew Liam would do to me when he found out.”
“Well, you’re still alive,” she pointed out, “so I’m assuming he never did?”
“No, believe it or not. After losing my mind trying to find her for half an hour, I remembered she’d been going on all day about wanting to see It’s a Small World again. I found her sitting outside the entrance with Mary Poppins, who looked to be about three seconds away from strangling me.” Killian paused to take a drink of his water and laughed. “Y’know, Sophia has never said a word to Liam or Belle about the incident. But I’ve had the feeling since that she may very well use it as blackmail against me in the future if there’s a time when I don’t comply to her wishes.”
“Women are smart. Even the small ones.”
“Right you are, Swan. Right you are.”
Emma washed the dishes after they’d finished dinner, refusing to let Killian do so much as dry a plate. “You did all the cooking. Let me take care of this one thing I can do without causing either of us bodily harm.”
Even without his assistance, she finished the task quickly, eager to show him the reason behind the other groceries she hadn’t put away earlier. “You ready to see what that “something later” was now?” she asked, pulling the various items out of the bag and lining them up on the counter.
Killian came over from the table where he’d been looking at something on his phone. “Absolutely. It’s got to be more enjoyable than the double chin Snapchats I’ve been getting from Will all evening.”
“I think so. Although you may very well end up with a double chin if you go nuts with these.”
His brow furrowed as he took a look at the items on the counter. “Hmm. Flour, eggs, sugar, cocoa powder. Perhaps I’m making a wild guess here, but I assume you want to make cupcakes?”
“I do.” It hadn’t been part of the original dinner plan when she’d went to the store earlier. But one glance at the chocolate cupcakes in the bakery and she couldn’t pass the opportunity up. “I had a feeling you wouldn’t object since you got all pouty over not getting to try the ones we made last time.”
“First of all, I did not, as you put it, “get pouty.” I am glad you considered those a joint effort though. Sitting on the couch to watch you bake takes its toll on a man.”
“Yeah, yeah. We’ll see if legitimate cupcakes with me take a toll on you too.”
Mixing the batter was a much smoother process than preparing dinner had been, likely because she’d already done it once before. The steps she’d found tedious and annoying the first time around bothered her considerably less now. Maybe it had something to do with the added company.
(It had everything to do with that.)
“Is it time to get out the parchment paper, Swan?” Killian asked when the mixing was completed.
“Oh! I almost forgot.” Emma rummaged around in the cabinet above the oven and pulled out a pack of cupcake liners. “I bought these after last time on the off chance I’d have a reason to need them.” She didn’t mention that this was weeks before she found out he’d be coming to Boston, and yet she’d still chosen the blue and green ones knowing they were his favorite colors.
He flashed her a grin in response, and she had to remind herself to breathe. Get a grip, Emma. You still have one more night to spend with him.
“I’m proud of you, love. We may just make a skilled baker out of you after all.”
“Don’t get your hopes up just yet. I’ll be depending on you to make sure they don’t burn.”
Emma surprised them both by remembering to take the pans out of the oven right on time. “I’m going to remember this the next time you refer to me as a bad influence,” Killian teased. “My presence clearly has quite the effect on you.”
If he only knew.
Despite any improvements she’d made in baking, icing the cupcakes was no less of a mess than it had been before. Emma had changed into an old t-shirt, which was now stained with chocolate icing in several places. Her ego wasn’t quite as bruised thanks to the smudge of icing on Killian’s chin that he had yet to notice.
Twelve iced cupcakes and four more stains later, she asked, “Since you didn’t get a chance the first time around, why don’t you do the honors and conduct the first taste test?”
“I’d love nothing more.” He picked up one of the cupcakes, peeled back the blue liner, and took a bite that would have put her own to shame. “Bloody hell,” he muttered through a mouthful of cake and icing before quickly finishing the rest.
“I’m taking that as a good sign?”
“It’s a fantastic sign.” He used a paper towel to wipe off the bit of icing he’d gotten on his mouth. “Why don’t you find out for yourself?”
Emma chose one with a green liner and peeled it off completely. For some reason, she’d never liked eating cupcakes with the paper still on, even if it did make more of a mess. “Ugh, these are better than the last ones,” she admitted after her first bite.
“Are they really?” Killian waggled his eyebrows.
“As much as I hate to admit it, yes.” She took another bite and made a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a groan. “Damn you and your ability to be good at, like, everything.”
“Everything, you say?” She thought it was meant to be teasing, but when she looked up at Killian, he was staring at her intently, his eyes wide and lips parted.
Emma had two choices here. She could make a sarcastic comment and shut down the possibility of finding out if he tasted as good as his cupcakes. Or she could do what she’d really wanted to since he’d gotten off of that plane yesterday.
Screw it. She grabbed Killian by the collar of his t-shirt and kissed him for all he was worth.
Any shock he felt over it was quickly dismissed, one of his hands going to the small of her back and the other cupping her cheek as he returned her kiss.
She pulled away when she felt out of breath and Killian began to laugh. “What’s so funny?” she asked, frowning. That could either be a good or bad sign.
“I’m sorry, love, it’s just...apparently I got a bit of icing on my fingers when I was eating that cupcake, and, well, see for yourself.”
Emma glanced over at the screen of her phone and saw chocolate smudges on her cheek where he had been touching her just seconds ago. “Damn. I should have been messier with mine so I could have returned the favor.”
“Good thing there are ten more cupcakes at your disposal.” He leaned in and kissed her again, this one short and sweet. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that, Swan.”
“Actually, I think I do,” she admitted. “But seriously, Killian, what are we doing? I know I asked you the same yesterday and chickened out, but we really do need to talk about this.” She motioned her hand between the two of them. “I mean, you’re essentially the best friend I have, we use a ridiculous amount of our cell phone battery on each other, and I don’t even talk to David and Mary Margaret as much as I talk to you....but is that it? Do you want to want things to stay like they have been for the past six months or-” the next few words felt caught in her throat. She really hoped that wasn’t what he wanted.
“If that’s what you want, then things between us can remain the same. But, frankly, Swan, I have no desire to pretend the last five minutes never happened.”
The corners of her mouth turned up, and he smiled back at her hopefully. “Good. I don’t either. But the question still stands: what now?”
“I’m afraid I don’t have a solid answer for that just yet, love. How about we simply enjoy the time we’ve got left together and figure out the rest as we go, eh?”
“If enjoying our time includes you showing me another kiss like that, I’m all for it.”
Her heart skipped a beat at his answering grin. How he could smile and look borderline sinful, she’d never know. “Oh, darling, I’ll show you anything you’re up for.”
The cupcakes were soon forgotten thanks to the heated kisses, soft touches, and shed clothing that followed. Turns out, Killian was great at eliciting noises from her for reasons that had nothing to do with chocolate.
It wasn’t until late that night when Emma’s sheets were in a tangled heap and they’d had a chance to catch their breath when a thought came to mind. “Killian?” She sat up from where she’d been curled up against his bare chest, paying little mind to the sheet that slipped off of them and pooled at her waist. “Why did you accept my friend request?”
He blinked several times as if questioning if he heard her correctly. “Come again, love?”
“You’ve known since the beginning that I added you by accident. But you’ve never said just why you accepted it.”
Killian was quiet for a moment as he considered the answer to her question. “I suppose you’re right. I remember that night somewhat vividly if I’m being honest. I couldn’t sleep, per usual, and was up watching some random documentary on YouTube when the notification popped up on my phone. There didn’t seem to be a reason for me to accept the request. I knew from the name alone that I hadn’t the slightest idea who you were. I probably spent the better part of an hour debating on what I should do.”
“And what made you decide I was worth the risk of accepting?”
He chuckled and scratched a spot behind his right ear, something Emma assumed was a nervous tic. “You may think I’m ridiculous for this, Swan, and rightly so, but I came to the conclusion that if someone as bloody gorgeous as you sent me a friend request, I’d be a fool to at least not give it a chance and find out why. That,” he continued, “and you were wearing a Groot shirt in one of your recent photos. I knew I liked you already.”
Truthfully, Killian was right- it was a little ridiculous. She may very well have laughed or rolled her eyes if he’d told her any of this when they’d first started getting to know one another. But they did know each other now, probably better than they knew anyone else, so it seemed easily forgiven. Not to mention she’d had similar thoughts the first time she came across his own profile. “And you had to wait another week to hear anything from me. I didn’t even realize we were friends until you liked that photo I posted from the movies.”
“If that’s what it took for us to end up where we are now, I’ll gladly like anything you post a hundred times over.”
Emma knew without asking that “where we are now” wasn’t just referring to the two of them being in her bed. “That might just be the corniest thing a man has ever said to me. And I adore it.” She all but threw herself back on top of him like she’d been earlier and kissed him, cupcakes and sleep both be damned.
She woke the next morning with a warm body against hers and an arm thrown around her waist. The alarm on Killian’s phone was ringing from where he’d dropped it on the bedroom floor in their haste to undress each other the night before. Any annoyance she felt over the blaring alarm was forgotten as memories from just hours earlier replayed in her mind.
Killian’s arm tightened around her waist as he made some indiscernible noise. “Too bloody early,” he groaned, his voice muffled by the pillow.
“You’re the one who set the alarm.”
“It was a lapse in judgment.” She felt the bed shift as he inched over on the mattress and his arm tightened around her. “Wonder how cross Liam would be if I called and said I couldn’t make the meetings today, I had better obligations to attend to.”
“I think he’d fly over just to murder you. And I really don’t want that kind of a mess in my apartment. Getting blood out of carpet can’t be easy.”
“Your compassion is overwhelming, love.”
“Always. Seriously, you’re gonna be late if you don’t get up soon. Why don’t you go ahead and shower and I’ll see about finding something for breakfast.” They had more options than toast and coffee now after her trip to the store yesterday. Emma got out of bed, still rather reluctant, and pulled on a pair of pajama pants with his Metallica shirt without thinking twice.
Killian sighed but got up anyway. “If the lady insists.”
“I think we’ve established how the lady feels about the mess Liam will make if you don’t.” She stuck her tongue out at him before leaving the room.
Emma had just poured the last of the pancake batter onto a frying pan when she felt hands settle on her waist. “Something smells delicious.” She couldn’t bite back a smile as Killian nuzzled her ear.
“It’s just from a box.” Truthfully, boxed pancake mix didn’t feel like much of a step up from toast, but it was one of the few things she’d trusted herself to make without major error.
“I’m not talking about the pancakes.”
Maybe breakfast wasn’t so important after all. She turned in his arms and leaned in to kiss him just as her phone started to ring from where she’d left it on the kitchen table.
“Figures,” she muttered, glancing over to see the name on the screen. “It’s Mary Margaret. Go ahead and eat, this might take a few minutes. Coffee should be done by now too.”
Emma took her phone in the living room and answered the call. “Hey, Mary Margaret. What’s up?”
“Hi, Emma. I didn’t know what your work schedule looked like today, but Ruby mentioned something about the four of us getting drinks after work if you’re interested.”
She would have been interested if it was any other day. Her work schedule (probably paperwork again) wasn’t the concern- with everything that had happened since the night before, she’d never gotten around to asking Killian when he had to leave. “I appreciate the invite, but I’m gonna have to pass today. Something kind of came up.”
As soon as Emma said the words, she regretted them. Of course her sister-in-law would insist on an explanation. “What? Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, everything’s fine.” She might as well tell Mary Margaret the truth now; she’d find out soon enough. “Um, see, the hotel Killian was supposed to stay at lost his reservation, so he’s been at my place. I’m not exactly sure how much longer he’s going to be here.”
“He’s spent the night there? David said you two were just spending a day together. Oh, did something finally happen?!”
Emma was not giving a play by play of the previous night over the phone while Killian was in the next room. “Now isn’t the best time, but I’ll tell you about it later, okay? I’ll make sure I’m free for girl time one day next week.”
“You’d better!”
Killian was washing dishes when she came back into the kitchen. “I left some for you,” he said, nodding toward the plate of pancakes and cup of coffee he’d set to the side.
“Thanks.” Emma retrieved her preferred coffee creamer from the fridge, wondering how he could stand to drink his black, when she thought of something. “Wait a minute. I forgot to set out coffee mugs. Does this mean you had to get a look at my cabinets?”
“Aye. As much as it pains me, Swan, I suppose it’s just one of those things I’ll have to force myself to overlook.” He tried to sound disappointed, but she could see the corners of his mouth turning up. “Thankfully, you do appear to have a few redeeming qualities to make up for this one tragic flaw.”
“Such a drama queen.” She rolled her eyes but walked over when he’d finished rinsing off his dishes and kissed him, Killian’s head tilting to the side a bit as he pulled her close. He smiled against her lips and she pulled back reluctantly after a moment, running her hands down his chest, the fabric of his dark grey button-down soft to the touch. “I’m glad to hear my lack of mug organization doesn’t have you running for the hills though.” The urge to slip her hands under the collar of said shirt was tempting, but they’d cut his time short enough already.
(To think less than twenty-four hours ago, she was convinced Killian couldn’t know how she really felt about him. Now, they couldn’t keep their hands off of each other.)
“My love, it’s going to take much more than a cabinet full of disorganized mugs to get rid of me.”
His words were meant to be reassuring, but Emma’s heart plummeted as reality sank in. “I almost hate to ask, but remind me when your flight back is again?”
Killian pursed his lips. “Well, my flight was scheduled for this evening. But,” he added, “I don’t technically have a reason to be back before Sunday night at the latest.”
“Oh?”
“Aye. You could be stuck with me all weekend...unless you’d rather not be. Which is perfectly understandable. I’m sure you want me out of your hair after allowing me to stay with you for the past two days, which I still feel as if I haven’t properly thanked you for, and-”
She cut him off with a quick kiss. “I’d love nothing more than to spend my weekend “stuck” with you, as you put it. And you should probably be heading out soon,” she continued, taking another glance at the clock, “but I’ll make sure you have a chance to show your appreciation for my hospitality later. Preferably multiple times.”
“I do like the way you think, Swan.”
Killian did indeed express his gratitude for her hospitality a number of times over the next day and a half. After they’d each finished their respective work obligations that afternoon, they’d spent the rest of the weekend in Emma’s apartment, either in her bed, on the couch in front of the TV, or in the kitchen where Killian yet again tried to salvage what there was of her cooking skills. He was being awfully stubborn in his mission to prove she was capable of making a meal without additional guidance.
“I don’t know why you’re so intent on making a culinary expert out of me,” she’d told him on Saturday morning right after she burnt herself trying to make French toast.
“Swan, I’m not even a culinary expert. I simply think you deserve better than to be satisfied with takeaway and prepackaged foods all the time.”
(One thing she’d quickly learned about Killian Jones? He hated Pop Tarts.)
On Saturday afternoon, Emma unceremoniously told him about the details of her life she’d always left out in their past conversations. Her abandonment as a baby, bouncing around foster homes with no sense of family for years until she found David and Mary Margaret, and why the people she tracked down who’d abandoned their families always hit so close to home. Her track record of failed relationships, first with Neal and then Walsh.
“I think the distance between us is what got me to open up to you over time,” she told him afterward. They were curled up on her couch, the show she’d picked to watch having been long forgotten. “I guess I thought it would be more simple this way. If something happened, I could cut things off a lot easier than I could if we were in the same place. The chances of us actually meeting seemed so slim for the longest time.”
Killian took her hand and gave it a quick squeeze. “And now?”
“Now?” She took a moment to process the question. “Now, I’m just thinking about all I could have missed out on if we’d never met. I mean, those cupcakes would have been terrible.”
The grin on his face when he leaned in to kiss her made her heart beat in a way that couldn’t have been normal.
Any discussion of where they would go from there was put off until Sunday morning. It was early, the sun’s rays just barely visible through the thin curtains in Emma’s bedroom. She’d meant to replace them months ago with blackout curtains to prevent early wakeups on her days off, but the time of day was easily ignored thanks to the warm body curled around her own.
“I don’t think we ever resumed that conversation from a few nights ago,” Emma pointed out. “Y’know, about exactly what this is that we’re doing now.”
“On the contrary, love, we most certainly did continue the conversation. Just perhaps not in a verbal sense.” He began to kiss his way down her neck and shoulder and she couldn’t help but laugh at him, both for his words and for making her realize just how ticklish she was.
Emma rolled over so she was facing him. “Don’t you think now is the time to actually continue it though? In a verbal sense,” she added, smacking his arm lightly when he wiggled his eyebrows.
“You wound me, Swan. But, aye. I suppose you’re right.”
“So are we doing this now? You and me?”
Killian smiled. “If that’s what you want, I’d love nothing more.”
“Of course it’s what I want. It’s just...I’m here, you’re there, most of the time, anyway. How does this work?”
“I suppose it can work the same as it has been since the beginning, love. We have some method of communication every day, we watch Netflix together, we tell each other what’s going on in our lives. The only difference would be counting down the days until I get to see you again. I’m not sure exactly when that would be,” he added before she could ask, “but we’ll work something out. I do have a fair amount of vacation days at my expense that Liam’s been hounding me to do something with.”
That alone was enough to alleviate a few of Emma’s concerns. Of course, she’d love to fly to London to see him at some point, but the lack of predictability that came with her job meant it likely wouldn’t be anytime soon. The only downside was the feeling that she would be putting considerably less work into the relationship this way.
Relationship. The casual way she’d thought about the term didn’t go unnoticed.
“You’d do that for me?”
Killian shrugged. “Eh. I’d do it for more cupcakes.” He laughed at the expression on her face before she kissed him.
Neither one of them had any desire to leave for the airport that afternoon, but Killian did have to head home as planned this time. “Liam will be at the office in the morning expecting to hear the results of my trip,” he told her while he packed his things. “Well, the results of his intentions for sending me over.” He shot Emma a wink and her cheeks reddened. If Liam was anything like her own older brother, his reaction to how they’d spent most of the weekend would be less than thrilled.
They drove to the airport in comfortable silence. Killian took her hand in his and rubbed his thumb lightly over her skin as she navigated through light Sunday traffic, Nirvana playing on the radio. Emma was caught off guard by his voice as he sang the words to “Heart-Shaped Box” softly under his breath. “Let me get this straight: you’re hot, funny, smart, a Marvel fan, can cook, and now you can sing. Do you fly too?”
“As a matter of fact, one of my coworkers is a pilot and offered to give me a lesson sometime-”
“Oh my gosh.”
She parked in the same lot as the last time, not wanting to be rushed through a quick goodbye at the curb. “Want me to walk in with you?” she asked. It felt less like a silly question and more like she didn’t want to let him go just yet.
“It’s fine, Swan. I’m sure you have things at home to take care of before work tomorrow.”
Killian wasn’t wrong. It didn’t make her any less disappointed. “Alright then.” She opened the trunk and helped retrieve his luggage despite his insistence that there was no need. “I guess this is it.” Her eyes flitted back and forth between his gaze and the concrete under her feet.
“I’m afraid so.” There’s a bit of reluctance in his voice as he steps forward and wraps his arms around her. “Swan, you don’t know how bloody glad I am that Liam sent me on this trip.”
“I think I have an idea.” The lump in her throat was hard to swallow.
“I know this isn’t ideal and it might be tricky at first, but we’ll figure something out and I’ll be back to see you soon. I’m not sure when just yet, but soon, okay?”
Emma nodded, hugging him a bit tighter before pulling back and pressing her lips to his. “Have a safe flight. Text me when you’re back home?”
“Of course.”
She watched as Killian disappeared from sight. The desire to go back to her apartment alone was nonexistent, but the man she cared about knew of her feelings and cared about her just as much in return. The reminder nearly made up for the distance and the time zone that separated them.
There were two new messages in her inbox when she was getting ready for bed that night, the apartment now quiet and borderline solemn.
Killian: Hello, love. Just got in a few minutes ago. I would ask if you’d like to watch something before bed, but I’m not sure how much longer I can keep my eyes open. Perhaps tomorrow?
Oh, and I know you stole my Metallica shirt.
Emma laughed, glancing in the mirror at the shirt she wore that still smelled faintly like his cologne. It’s a date. And I wanted you to have an incentive to come back other than my cupcakes.
Minx.
You love it.
I do.
She received another message not long after.
Ruby: Why am I just now finding out from MM that Killian crashed at your place??? Please tell me you got laid!
At least she had friends to keep her entertained until Killian’s next visit.
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when you’re scared and alone (just know that i’m already home)
Jake is in prison, and Amy is three days late.
so emma @fourdrinkamy prompted me w this and i may or may not have teared up a little writing the last part and had to remind myself that they are together and happily married now omg enjoy the angst
title from already home by a great big world
read on ao3
It takes Amy three days to notice that she’s late.
It shouldn’t take that long, she’s as meticulous about her period as everything else in her life. She marks them on her calendar each month and checks taking her birth control pill off her to-do list each day. Never before in her life has she been three days late.
Never before, though, has she been spending hours after each shift combing through files upon files about Melanie Hawkins and her team, looking for the slightest inconsistency or slip-up. Never before has she been surviving on four hours of sleep (if that), fuelled by coffee and the motivation to get her boyfriend out of jail before he’s beaten or shanked or worse.
It isn’t until Friday morning, while she’s sitting at her desk yawning after a particularly long night and jotting a note down in her calendar to visit Jake’s mother this weekend, that she spots the little X marked on Tuesday of that week.
Twenty minutes and one frantic trip to the bodega across the street later, she’s perched over the sink in the precinct bathroom, waiting for a tiny symbol to dictate whether or not her life is about to change drastically.
She’s thought about kids a few times over the past year: watching Jake play with Nikolaj in Charles’ living room on Christmas Eve, babysitting Cagney and Lacey and realizing maybe they could handle parenting after all, helping her nephews build a blanket fort after dinner at her brother’s house. These thoughts have materialized in her brain as a faraway possibility for after they’re married. Ideally, she would already be a lieutenant or higher. Ideally, the father of her child would not be indefinitely locked up in a prison a thousand miles away.
Just as she sets the timer on her phone for three minutes as instructed by the box, the bathroom door swings open. Amy cautiously looked around the bullpen before scurrying off to take the test and made the judgement that the few women on the floor had gone to the bathroom recently enough that she would not be interrupted. Her worn-out, panicked brain did not take into consideration that Gina is very pregnant and gets up to pee very frequently.
“Amy, what are you - oh.”
By the time Amy meets her gaze, Gina is already looking at her with complete bewilderment.
“Are you-“
“I haven’t looked at it yet,” Amy says quietly.
Gina nods, slowly approaching her as if she’s made of dust and the slightest movement could make her disintegrate on the floor. It dawns on her that she must look as weak and helpless as she feels.
“No matter what it says, you’re not alone,” Gina promises her, her hand cautiously grabbing Amy’s, still gripping the edge of the counter for support. “You guys are gonna get him out, and even if you don’t…you’re not alone, okay?”
The sentiment of her friends supporting her is comforting, but another person being here, knowing that she may actually be carrying a child, tips the scale in her brain from stress and worry to full-blown panic. She isn’t alone, she knows that, but no support system could make doing this without Jake any less terrifying.
Nothing could make the idea of raising a baby, his baby, without him there every step of the way an even remotely acceptable possibility.
She doesn’t feel the tears until they’re soaking into Gina’s shirt over her shoulder, barely registering the sobs until they’re wracking her body and she’s clinging onto her friend for dear life.
“It’s gonna be okay,” she hears Gina say, her voice sounding distant, as though Amy is underwater and drowning.
“I-I can’t do it without him-“
“I know, girl. I know.”
The vibration of her phone, accompanied by the same loud, repetitive beeping sound that wakes her every morning, makes Amy jump out of Gina’s arms.
“Do you want me to look?” Gina asks, her eyes a little softer and more sympathetic after seeing Amy completely unravel before her. She’s kept most of her breakdowns since Jake’s been gone private and tries to put on a brave face at work, knowing that they’re all missing him and Rosa too.
Amy nods weakly, shakily wiping away tears with the sleeve of her blouse. She waits as Gina surveys the three tests on the counter (all different brands, to get the most conclusive result possible) and looks back up at her.
“All negative.”
The two words pass over her with a wave of relief, her body collapsing back against the wall behind her and sinking to the floor.
“I’m not pregnant?” she sputters, making sure she heard her correctly.
“You’re not pregnant.”
Gina comes to sit on the floor next to her, shoulder-to-shoulder, and pats her knee gently. Amy leans into her slightly as her stream of thoughts begins to clear.
“I’m three days late.” She tries to make sense of her body’s tardiness now that the most likely explanation is off the table, coming up with nothing. “I’m never late.”
“If you want, I can bring you to my OB/GYN appointment after work today to get checked out,” Gina offers. “She’s dope, we listen to Beyonce during my ultrasounds.”
Amy musters a small smile, nodding her head.
“Thanks, Gina.”
-
Just like every day, regardless of whether she’s still at the precinct or already home for the night, Amy is waiting anxiously by the phone for Jake’s call at ten o’clock. She picks up on the first ring, as always.
“Jake?”
“Hey, babe.”
His voice rings through her ears like a symphony. Their daily half-hour phone calls (as long as he can risk without a guard walking by) since he managed to acquire a contraband phone have been heavenly interruptions from an otherwise Jake-less existence.
“How are you doing?” she asks. “Is everything okay?”
The pause on the other end is a little bit too long, but it’s followed by an assured response that she knows is only for her benefit. “I’m doing okay. Just missing you.”
She subconsciously wraps his warmest, coziest blue hoodie tighter around her body. It’s one of the only ones that she hasn’t already worn to the point that she needed to wash it, one of the only things that still smells like him after nearly three weeks.
“I miss you too,” she sighs. “So much.”
“Is something wrong, Ames?”
It’s truly a testament to how well he knows her that he’s able to detect that something is off from so few words. She’s spent the past two hours since returning from the doctor’s office wrestling with whether or not to tell Jake about her false alarm today, or about the cause of it, which Dr. Abrams referred to as “alarmingly high stress levels.”
Though she doesn’t want to burden him with worries concerning her (she thinks she’s worrying enough for the both of them), there is nobody that she wants to - needs to - talk to about this more than him.
“I, um-“ she fiddles with the edge of the comforter, closing her eyes as she lets out a deep breath. “I had to take a pregnancy test today. I was three days late.”
“Was it - are you-“
“It was negative, don’t worry.” She cuts him off before the worried thoughts that had saturated her brain earlier today can reach him. “It was just scary for a minute.”
Once again, her head spins with anxieties over the thought of what may have happened if the test had been positive.
“You never miss your period. Did you see a doctor?” His voice has lost its confident steadiness, a facade that she can tell he puts on for each phone call just to ease her mind.
“I did, I’m totally fine,” she swears, hoping that she’s convincing enough to put his mind at ease. “It’s just, you know, regular stress.”
It would be a better lie if she hadn’t been stressed about something every single day that he’s known her.
“Ames, please promise me you’re taking care of yourself,” he pleads, now discernibly worried.
“I’m good, babe, you don’t have to worry about me.”
She adds it to the growing list of lies she’s told him lately: yes, I had dinner; no, I haven’t been crying; work was fine; I left the precinct hours ago.
“Okay,” he says, voice still laced with skepticism. “I’m really sorry I wasn’t there for you today.”
Her heart breaks, as if it can shatter any further. It is so annoyingly, utterly Jake to apologize for not being able to comfort her when he’s the one behind bars.
“God, I love you,” she murmurs, tears falling onto the pillow supporting her head.
“I love you too,” Jake echoes, the words heavy with the weight of the miles between them. “And Ames, about the test…we’ll do that for reals one day, okay?”
She has to believe for her sanity that he’s right, that it won’t be fifteen years and that they won’t miss their window. The idea of doing the whole “married with children” thing with anyone else is not an option that she’ll even begin to consider, as she told her mother shortly after Jake received his sentence. He’s been it for her for a long time, probably even longer than she’s realized.
“We would have cute kids,” she agrees, a small smile creeping on her face at the idea of creating something that is half-her and half-Jake (god, she hopes they get his hair and her organizational habits).
“The cutest. Our kid would put Terry and Charles and Gina’s kids to shame.” She can practically hear his trademark grin through the phone, though it’s a poor substitute for the real thing.
They spend the next twenty-eight minutes talking about hypothetical kids and the life they’re going to continue to build together. Afterwards, she sleeps the best she has in weeks, dreaming of the day that their happily ever after is no longer on hold.
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Emma and Hope: American Girls
Seven years ago today I gave birth to my daughter. She has been so wonderful and I discover new things with her every day. One of those things has been the fun of playing with 18-inch dolls. I always wanted an American Girl doll, but could never have one as a child. Santa brought my kiddo one for Christmas, and playing with her and her doll inspired me to buy myself the doll I always wanted.
This story is taken directly from that experience. It’s a canon-compliant, post S7 slice of fluffy domestic goodness set in the Swan-Jones household. Many thanks go to @kmomof4 who helped me develop the idea after I pestered her nonstop about AG dolls. Thanks also to her for being my beta on this cavity-inducing fluff fest. I hope you enjoy this sugary treat!
Title: Emma and Hope: American Girls
Rating: F for fluff… sooooo much fluff
Words: ~2,500
Also on AO3
Summary: Emma has sworn that her child will have everything she never got to have, including the expensive toys she always wanted. When Hope gets an American Girl doll for Christmas, Emma goes a bit overboard in buying accessories. Killian is concerned for their budget, and the fact that their house is being taken over by dolls.
Emma Swan was nine years-old when she saw her first American Girl catalog.
She'd been staying in one of her many foster homes. The situation was not the worst she'd been in, but it was definitely unpleasant, with an absentee father, bratty children, and an alcoholic mother. But the family had money. The catalog had come in the mail one day. The children, both being boys, had no interest in the dolls, but Emma swiped the booklet and stashed it among her possessions before anyone else saw.
She poured over those pages, marveling at the beautiful dolls and their accessories. She loved the snippets of the stories of each girl, learning a little about their lives in the past. Emma didn't stay very long in that home, but when she left the catalog came with her. She carried it with her for five years, looking at it constantly until the pages were worn thin. Eventually she found the books that came with the dolls at a library, and was able to read their entire stories. But she knew she would never be able to have one of the dolls themselves. No one was going to buy an $80 doll for an orphan girl.
More than twenty years later, Emma sat in bed in her beautiful home, next to her handsome husband, and paged through the American Girl website on her iPad.
"What's that?" Killian asked, peering over her shoulder.
"Dolls. I'm looking at some possible Christmas presents for Hope."
"She has quite a few dolls already. Does she really need any more?"
"These are special dolls." She scooted over on the bed to lean into her husband's side and show him the page she was looking at.
"They are pretty, but perhaps a bit strange looking with their bucked teeth. And their eyes look a little… what's the word you use? Creepy?"
"They're not creepy," she scoffed, lightly punching him in the arm.
Killian looked closer at the tablet. "Bloody hell! Over one-hundred dollars for a doll? Swan, she's six. Why on earth would we spend that much on a doll for her?"
"I told you, these are special dolls. They're made to teach kids about a period in American history. The dolls come with a book, and there are these outfits and accessories you can buy that are period-correct. The dolls are good quality and last a long time. Some people that had them as kids have passed them on to their own children."
"Did you have one?"
Emma looked up from the screen and gave her husband a pointed stare.
"Of course not. My mistake." He sighed and placed his hand on her arm. "So now that we have a daughter, you want to give her something you could never have?"
"Bingo." She looked back down at her device. "I just can't decide which one. There are so many now. When I was a kid there were only four dolls, but now there are eleven historic dolls, plus these contemporary ones, and the Truly Me dolls. It's so hard to decide."
"Which one did you always want?"
Emma set the iPad back down and smiled warmly. "Kirsten. She was a frontier girl. I loved her rustic clothes and furniture, and she had blonde hair like me, and it was braided in these cute little pigtails and looped around her ears. Her family was Swedish, and she had the cutest little accessories, like this Christmas wreath thing she wore on her head."
Killian looked fondly at his wife. "Then I think you should purchase that one."
"Not that easy, sadly," Emma sighed in response. "Kirsten was retired a while back. You can't buy her anymore." She looked back at the screen once more. "I was looking at maybe Julie, or Kit, or maybe Tenney."
"This all sounds quite strange to me, Swan." He grabbed the tablet from her and scrolled through the page. Setting the device back on the bed, he decisively touched one doll, bringing up her page. "This one."
"Are you sure?" Emma asked. "That doll doesn't even really look like Hope, and a lot of girls like these dolls because they look like them. Maybe we should get one that has blonde hair?"
"No, Swan, this is the one."
"How do you know?"
"Because, thanks to your parents, Hope loves horses, and this doll's book has a horse on the cover. That, and her green eyes remind me of yours."
Emma couldn't help the blush that crept into her cheeks. "Okay. Felicity it is."
§§§§§§§§§§
Of course, Hope loved the doll. Emma would never forget the smile on her daughter's face when she opened the box on Christmas morning.
"An American Girl doll!" she'd squealed. "Just what I've always wanted since I was a little girl!" Emma and Killian had chuckled at her hyperbole, but chose not to correct her.
After the holidays were over, and life returned to normal, Felicity continued to be a constant presence in their lives. She accompanied Hope everywhere. All the residents of Storybrooke got to know the doll, and Hope made sure everyone knew the entire story.
"This is my doll Felicity. She's an American Girl doll. She came with a book about her life. It had a horse on the cover! Felicity lived in a time called '1774.' That was a really long time ago. But she didn't really live back then because she's just a doll."
Hope had definitely inherited her Grandmother's chatty tendencies.
On the third Monday of January, Hope had the day off of school. Emma made plans to take her down to Boston for a girl's trip where they would visit the American Girl store. Having Felicity was fun, but Emma had secretly decided they needed some accessories.
Hope chatted the entire drive about how excited she was to see Felicity's outfits and furniture. Emma thought she knew what to expect, but she was still overwhelmed when they arrived. The store was huge, with dolls everywhere. There were so many displays showing the dolls and all the additional outfits and beds. And there were outfits for kids that could match the doll's clothes. Hope immediately decided she needed to get one of those, but Emma told her to wait until they saw everything before she picked something out.
They explored both levels of the store, Hope bouncing from display to display, her face lighting up more at each turn. She froze, however, when they reached the Truly Me section.
"Mommy, can you hold Felicity for me?" she asked as she held the doll aloft, not removing her eyes from the display of dolls before her. Hope was enchanted. She wandered slowly through the area until she found a doll with curly blonde hair and blue eyes. "She's so pretty, Mommy. Doesn't she look just like me?"
The look on Hope's face convinced Emma that she was going to buy that doll for her daughter. Without looking at the total, she swiped her credit card for the doll, along with a doll-sized bunk bed and two outfits with accompanying doll clothes. Then they went to the bistro and had a lovely lunch with Felicity and the new doll before piling in the car and returning home. The day was a beautiful memory. It involved a lot of driving, but Emma felt it was worth it when she remembered the look on her daughter's face.
The next day Emma and Killian took Hope to Granny's for dinner. When they arrived, they ran into Alice and Robin.
"Did you get a new doll?" Alice asked Hope. "That's not Felicity, is it?"
"Nope! Felicity is at home in her new bed. This is my new dolly."
"What's her name?"
"I haven't named her yet," Hope deadpanned, her words accompanied by a flourish of her hand, as if it were obvious the doll was as yet unnamed.
"Do you have any ideas?" Robin asked.
"No! It's really hard to decide. She looks just like me, so I thought of calling her Hope, but my name is Hope and she can't have the same name as me!"
"Obviously," Robin chimed in.
Hope pulled the doll away from her body and looked at her face. "She looks like me, and I look like Alice, so the doll looks like Alice too."
"Good observation," said Robin.
"But I can't call her Alice. That would be silly, right?"
"What about Tilly?" Alice suggested. "That was my cursed name."
Hope furrowed her brow. The dynamics of curses still eluded her. But after a moment she relaxed her expression. "I like it!" She declared. "Her name is Tilly!"
§§§§§§§§§§
Tilly the doll fit in well with her new family. Emma spent much of her spare time playing with Hope and the dolls. When they weren't playing, she was perusing Amazon on her iPad, looking for additional clothing and accessories. She bought some more colonial-style outfits for Felicity and a couple more outfits for Hope that included matching doll outfits for Tilly. Then they needed somewhere to store the clothes, so she bought a wardrobe for the dolls. After also acquiring a table and a doll-sized kitchen, they decided that there wasn't enough space in Hope's bedroom to house everything, and they set about rearranging the furniture in a room across the hall, declaring it the "doll's room." This is how Killian found them when he came home one Saturday afternoon in late February.
"What, may I ask, is going on?" he queried as he stood in the doorway to the room.
"We need more space for the doll stuff," Emma replied matter-of-factly.
"We do have a playroom set aside for Hope's toys. Perhaps the dolls could live there?"
"No, I want them here. These toys are special."
"Yeah Daddy, they're special," Hope chimed in.
Killian shook his head and walked downstairs to begin preparing dinner, which Emma's parents and brother would be joining them for.
When their guests arrived, David joined him in the kitchen while Mary Margaret went upstairs to join the girls. Neal, now in his early teens, settled on the sofa in the living room with his phone.
"They've really gotten into the dolls, haven't they?"
"Aye." Killian took a sip of his beer as he turned to face his father-in-law. "It would appear my home is being invaded by a small army of expensive toys."
David gave him a warm smile. "You know, I regret a lot of things with Emma. I know it was out of my control, but that doesn't stop me from wishing I could have raised her and given her the things she always wanted. It's nice to see that you guys are able to do that for Hope."
"The things she always wanted…" His words sparked an epiphany in Killian. "I don't know why I didn't think of this sooner."
"Huh?" David asked.
"Can you finish chopping these, mate?" Killian asked. "I need to make a quick phone call."
"Yeah, sure. Is everything alright?"
"Never better, Dave. I just had a realization that I don't want to wait to act on."
§§§§§§§§§§
The ringing of the doorbell brought Hope barreling down the stairs with a cry of "I'll get it!". Killian tried to run to the door to stop her as Emma raced from upstairs to do the same. Neither were successful. Hope flung the door open to reveal a large package left by the postman.
Hope sucked in a deep gasp. "What is it? Is it for me?!"
Killian observed the package, looking at the return address on the shipping label, as he'd learned to do recently. The sender's name tipped him off to the contents inside. "No, love. This is for Mommy."
Hope looked dejected for a moment, her six year-old brain having trouble accepting when others received gifts in her presence. Emma took in the enormous box and smiled at her daughter. "Do you want to help me open it?"
"Okay," Hope responded sullenly before her eyes suddenly brightened. "If it's something I like, will you share it with me?"
"I don't know what it is, sweetie," Emma said, looking curiously at her husband.
"It's something for Mommy to share with you," Killian replied with a smirk. Using the sharpened tip of his hook, he sliced open the tape on the box so Emma could pull the flaps apart. The contents inside were covered in a thick layer of bubble wrap, obscuring their appearance. Tentatively, Emma started to peel away the protective packaging to reveal the treasure inside.
Her face lit up as the contents became clear. Gingerly she lifted the largest item away from the box to cradle it in her arms. "Kirsten," she breathed, before her face split into the widest grin Killian had ever seen. She beamed up at him. "You got me Kirsten?"
"Aye," he said with a smile. "Seeing you and Hope play with her new dolls was charming, but I thought you should have the doll you've always wanted."
"How did you even know how to get her?"
"I called Henry and asked for his help."
"And he knew where to find vintage American Girl dolls?"
"Actually, no. But, thanks to her cursed memories, Jacinda did. She had a false memory of wanting one of these dolls when she was a child. She helped me find the doll on this website called "e-bay". She was so inspired that she ended up purchasing a Samantha doll for herself and Josefina for Lucy.
"We can have a tea party with our dolls!" Hope cried out excitedly.
"Indeed my little cygnet, you can and you should. However, I think for now we should take Kirsten and the rest of the contents of this box upstairs to add them to our collection."
"Now that we have three dolls you can play with us too, Daddy!"
"I believe I will. I will take Felicity, but I do have a request. She needs a pirate outfit."
"That will probably be hard to find on Amazon," Emma said with a chuckle.
"You have magic, Swan. Conjure one up."
"And a little Jolly Roger!" Hope said, jumping up and down. "The dolls need to have some pirate adventures!" She dashed up the stairs, making a beeline for the doll's room.
Emma held Killian back from following their daughter. "Thank you," she said, looking up into his eyes.
He returned her gaze lovingly. "You are most welcome, my love. What's the use of being married to a pirate if you can't have some treasures of your own?"
She smiled at him before lifting up on her toes to capture his lips in a soft, sweet kiss. "You're the best treasure of all."
Tagging the CS Crew. Let me know if you want to be added or removed from my tag list.
@artistic-writer @bleebug @cat-sophia @courtorderedcake @flslp87 @gingerchangeling @hollyethecurious @initiala @jonirobinson64 @kmomof4 @kymbersmith-90 @laschatzi @lassluna @lillpon @nerdyhuntress @resident-of-storybrooke @rouhn @searchingwardrobes @sherlockianwhovian @shireness-says @snidgetsafan @snowbellewells @teamhook @thejollyroger-writer @thislassishooked @winterbythesea @winterbaby89 @wingedlioness @wyntereyez @yayimallamaagain
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Fandom: Once Upon A Time
Pairing: Regina/Emma, Alice/Robyn, Regina & Henry, Regina & Zelena
Genre: Family/Fluff
Rated: T
Words: 2,255
Once upon a time, Regina paints.
5 times Regina struggles with her secret penchant for creativity + 1 time she finds her muse.
Read on AO3
this grew out of the plot in the regina rising book, where regina takes art classes for a bit. if you haven't read it, it's not crucial for this, just the inspiration. purely wrote this because art school has been kicking my butt recently and i must live everything through the cathartic distance of fictional characters. enjoy!
warnings: suggestions of childhood abuse, swearing, bit of brief alcohol use.
Once upon a time, Regina paints.
She’s not good, not by a long shot, but she loves it all the same. Loves to paint the horses, the tall, breathing trees and the horizon with its promise of freedom always just out of reach. The thick oils feel luxurious in an unfamiliar way, a far cry from the extravagance of corsets and jewels and feasts. They feel sumptuous, soulful, vibrant as she lays down rich colour, and she delights in it, escapes into the stables through her mind every time she picks up the paintbrush.
Her tutor, Jasper, is handsome and smiles when she masters a new technique or finishes a work, and Regina blushes all the way down to her toes. And therein lies the problem; because mother rarely allows her daughter the distraction of hobbies, let alone friends or boys not specifically approved by her, and she’s eagle-eyed looking for any excuse to put a stop to this. The excuse comes in the form of Jasper hovering at her shoulder, guiding her hand gently and his breath in her ear, and that’s that.
Jasper is ordered to leave, banned from the estate, and mother gets her digs in about Regina's poor painting skill, and the pressure to find an eligible prince to wed heats up. She no longer has time for frivolities between other lessons and dances and tea with suitors, so she gives it up.
When Henry is little, he’s a prolific little artist. He scribbles and scribbles as she works at her desk, and they’re the most beautiful thing Regina’s ever seen. She laughs and kisses his cheek as he proudly holds up his latest masterpiece, and gently takes it from him and puts it up on the fridge with the other favourites, cooing praise all the while.
She remembers, sometimes, well, we can’t all be good at everything, Regina, and feels her stomach twist in humiliation even years later, and promises herself this is another way she will never allow herself to be like her mother.
Seemingly chaotic spirals of waxy colour become slightly messy colouring book pages – delightfully disordered as Henry colours inside the lines as best he can but takes creative liberties: blue Spiderman, green sky, pink dog, all boldly unapologetic like happy children are. “Mommy, help,” he pipes up one day during one of their Saturday Granny's breakfasts, and spreads out his crayons across the table and Regina freezes for a half-second before picking up the red.
She puts the new art up on the fridge with alphabet magnets and puts the old ones carefully into a box. Later, she’s grateful she had the foresight to save everything, because during that awful year she returns to it on the worst nights. After he finds out about the adoption in the worst way possible and gets stuck on fairy tales, Henry demands she takes everything off the fridge in a fit of anger and pre-teen embarrassment, and so those go in the box too. Between snarling fights with his birth mother and shaking panic, Regina spends all too much time gazing over those pages of childish shapes until her vision is swimming and all she can see is a garish blur.
•
•
They never pick up their comfortable colouring sessions after everything gets better again. Henry gets too old, too preoccupied with being a hero or the author or college or adventures, and Regina mourns it.
She fills her house with expensive paintings, artisanal prints of mythology, illustrations of plants in an attempt to fill the hole, make it warmer on those nights he’s gone. Her favourite is a huge horse painting that hangs above her fireplace and Regina imagines maybe she would have painted something similar if she’d been allowed the time, the encouragement to learn.
And once, in the Underworld after trying and failing to sleep curled up on one of the couches, she tries. The injured horse from earlier had stuck in her mind, had looked so much like her Rocinante but wasn’t, and the loft is dim, silent but for soft snores of Snow and Charming close by. Beyond a few minutes in the bathroom here and there it’s the closest to privacy Regina has had since they got here.
Enough for her to pick up a scrap of paper and pencil and hunch over the coffee table to draw. Regina tries to remember the arc of her steed’s neck, the angles of his muzzle, the soft fuzz at his chin, and sketches until her hand aches and her eyes grow tired.
It’s bad, but it’s not awful. She feels calmer, in the dark where no one can see her failure, mother long gone. She stares at the dark shapes meant to be his eyes, the glint and it’s off but she feels sixteen again, bringing the outside inside with her. And she feels tired, at last. Slowly, Regina lays back down under the soft blanket and allows herself this small ounce of serenity.
•
•
In Seattle, she is Roni and owns a bar and dresses in leather and old denim. She has pain – a failed adoption, an uncaring mother, an absent father, streetwise beyond her years and more loneliness than she knows what to do with, oh yes, she has pain. But the curse has taken away specific old agonies of forced marriage and murdered lovers and a mother who abuses and shames, and she might be relieved if only she knew that she’d forgotten anything.
Roni doesn’t remember never being enough in any way at all, being groomed for marriage and marriage only, denied the simple pleasures of hobbies or friends, and she’s something of a fixer-upper – handy enough to maintain the pub, physical and creative in a way Mayor Mills hadn’t ever been. Not to mention financially fucked. She can’t spare the cash for Regina’s extensive designer wardrobe even if she could stomach the idea of fast fashion.
So she does the next best thing – cuts up her tees, alters the fit with simple stitching, and one day when she has a spare few hours after a relatively slow shift, she picks up a set of cheap paints and goes to town on a jacket sitting in the back of her closet. After hours hunched over the jacket, a couple of cold beers, and a few loud spins of the Ramones, her mind is clear and her body pleasantly tired. The paint dries, and she marvels at her newly personalised jacket, adorned with tasteful flowers, unique to her, and for once, there’s no insecurity.
•
•
When Roni remembers and becomes Regina again, she admires the jacket hanging on the back of her door, trails her fingertips over the paint before finally slipping it on. Her cursed self had surprisingly done quite a good job and it’s hers and she won’t waste a perfectly comfortable jacket. (Zelena comments, one day, nudges her gently when she gets a closer look and sees the slight imperfections of a hand-paint job. “Never knew you had an artistic side, ‘Gina,” and Regina rolls her eyes and snaps a towel playfully after her, says “I don’t,” but has to hide her flushed cheeks.)
Robyn arrives in Seattle, tall and grown now, if a little rougher around the edges – her fault and in hindsight maybe the ticket to Amsterdam she hadn’t even run past Zelena had been a bad idea, much like the spellbook she’d passed on because we all experimented, Zelena. Robyn is brave and kind and funny, though, had never succumbed to the darkness or to vices like they both had even given the chance. She’s doing well, besides being, y’know, cursed, and some evenings, that bright-eyed, wild-haired girl Tilly – Alice – comes to visit and they exchange soft touches and warm smiles. (It reminds Regina painfully of a different blonde lost to her, and she turns her face down and pours out a shot.)
While Robyn dries glasses or wipes down the counter, Alice splits her time gazing at her girlfriend and hunching over a notebook, writing and doodling. Regina had seen over her shoulder once by accident, the pages and pages of loopy handwriting and beautiful drawings of stormy seas and far-off dream-realms (real, if only Alice would make the connection she’s so close to). And when Robyn gets off shift, they sit side by side and Alice explains each drawing with glinting eyes. “What about you? What do you dream about?” Alice asks, and so Robyn picks up a pencil and tentatively tries to illustrate a dreamt childhood filled with magic and mythical beasts.
(The curse breaks and for a short time, they all sit in Roni’s bar aware of what they mean to one another. Robyn smiles softly and says, “I remember when you and mom would colour with me, Aunt Regina,” and slides two pages across the bar counter towards the two witches. Regina’s mouth closes around a silent protest and she smiles too, exchanges a soft look with her sister, and grabs a purple pencil.)
•
•
The realms are united, and everyone is back together. Everything is good.
Regina sucks in a breath as she stands in one of the castle towers, looking over the kingdom. She still has her mansion, but occasionally, she likes to come up here and allow the treetops and winding rivers to clear her mind.
She sits down on a wooden stool near the window, brought up here especially for today. Actually, all of this had been acquired very discretely, just for her today. She could have summoned it, but she’s really trying to not use magic lazily these days and the ritual of gathering everything had been strangely soothing.
In front of her is a wooden easel and a small table laden with paints – oils, like she’d used as a girl, and fluffy brushes and spirit for rinsing. The blank canvas is terribly intimidating, but Regina keeps her breathing steady and reminds herself no one has to see if it turns out bad, this is just for her. To see if she can still, if it’s still as fun as she remembers. She picks up a brush and dips the tip in the pale blue and begins to work.
The time passes easily, and as the hours slip by the sky begins to turn pink, the sun warm and red and all the colours changing too fast to keep working. That’s about the time that the door creaks, and in comes Emma, a small quirk of a smile on her lips and blonde hair tumbling down her back. “How’s it going?” she murmurs, and Regina nods.
“I missed this,” she admits and surveys her work with her bottom lip between her teeth.
The blonde grins, and steps forward, her head tilted – “Can I see?”
Emma is tentative, always careful and considerate in these quiet moments despite her naturally chaotic state, and so Regina nods again, and breathes steadily. Arms wrap around her waist and a cheek rests on her shoulder as the blonde gazes at the painting, and for a long moment Regina is half-expecting disappointment or a stilted falsity.
Emma just makes this dragged out ohh sound though and tightens her embrace. “That’s really good, Regina, you never said you were good,” and Regina flushes deeply and shushes her, would maybe chuck something small and light at her if she wasn’t enjoying this hug so much.
“It’s just – practice,” Regina excuses, and lightly pushes away to spin and take Emma into her own arms, their eyes meeting. “But thank you.” She cups Emma’s jaw and brings her down to kiss her lightly, sweetly, awing all the while at how they finally got here. Her other hand trails down Emma’s cheek, and the woman feels slight wetness and whines, “Reg-ina.”
Regina smirks as Emma rubs at the smudge of wet emerald green on her cheek, only spreading it even more. “I’m so gonna get you for that,” the sheriff says with a childish grin and flicks a brush still covered in purple paint at her lover.
The paint splatters over Regina’s browbone and she gasps and then laughs, “Emma,” as she grabs ineffectually for the brush that Emma holds high above her head. Emma jumps back, bright laughter ringing against the stone walls, and her eyes are bright. Regina’s chest feels light looking at her, lunging for the brush again until she gives up and picks up a brush of her own. Emerald eyes widen and Emma murmurs a warning, backing up and still grinning until she hits the stone wall.
Regina closes in on her, presses against her, and then her sly smirk drops. Her hand closes around Emma’s wrist, pinning it as she leans in and brings their lips together tenderly. The kiss heats up, Emma moaning into her open mouth and flicking her tongue teasingly against red lips, and the brushes drop to the floor with a clatter.
And maybe they’ll regret this little paint fight when it comes time to clean up, but Regina thinks, this is what creativity, art is supposed to be like – serene solace, laughing with her lover over spilt paint, colouring with her son, drawing dreams with her family. They part, their breath huffing warm and unsteady, and she is contemplative, meeting Emma’s eyes and trailing her thumb over the woman’s plump lower lip. She’s beautiful, glowing in the soft sunset. Regina feels good and breathes into the space between them, “I think I know what I want to paint next.”
#once upon a time#regina mills#swan queen#henry mills#regal believer#emma swan#alice ouat#robyn#zelena#zelena mills#wicked queen#regina/emma#regina + henry#alice/robyn#rated t#fluff#family#2019#im not sure what the best format for posting fic is like.....i rly wanna be using this blog for interacting more but it's so hard lmao#im so out of tumblr practice#oneshot#character study
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A Muted Hue of Grey (14/14) -- CSBB
Summary: Emma Swan liked being a PI in Boston. It was a fun job, she had an okay income and she was a good one at that, so there was no logical reason to try and leave. Except for the fact that she wanted to, so badly. And, when she received a job offer for what seemed to be the opportunity of a lifetime, she did exactly that. Leave. Run. All the way to London. The job was simple: trailing a man called Killian Jones. Easy enough.
Well, until things get complicated, that is.
Rating: M (previous mentions of alcohol abuse, violence, and sex)
Wordcount: 3415
Links: ao3 // ff.net // spotify
chapter 1 // chapter 2 // chapter 3 // chapter 4 // chapter 5 // chapter 6 // chapter 7 // chapter 8 // chapter 9 // chapter 10 // chapter 11 // chapter 12 // chapter 13
A/N: Here we are, the last chapter. This is such a surreal moment because after more than a year this story is over and done. This @captainswanbigbang experience has been one of a lifetime and has taught me so much!
One last thank you to @ofshipsandswans and @acourtoftruelove. Honestly, I can't even properly express how important these two have been for this fic, its successful completion, and just in my life in general. I both love you loads.
Not to forget my amazing artist @shady-swan-jones who has made epic art for this fic, who is just such a lovely person and who, out of all the possible fics, picked mine, for which I am very thankful.
Without further ado, one last time, A Muted Hue of Grey
---------------------------------------
“Emma, no.”
“Killian.”
He raised his eyebrows.
“Emma,” he repeated, his blue eyes serious as he kept eye contact and shook his head.
She rolled her eyes before returning the look.
“I have to go home,” she said.
“No, you don’t,” he disagreed.
His arm snaked around her waist, pulling her back to him. The bedcovers shifted, baring her legs as she attempted to wriggle out of his hold and get out of bed.
“I haven’t been home in three days,” she told him, reminding him of how one evening together had shifted into a night together which had then merged into another one and another.
Not that she had any qualms with it.
None whatsoever.
Especially with the way his lips were pressing feather-light kisses against her spine.
“Stay.”
Emma couldn’t bring herself to say no. Not to him, not to the way his hair was so playfully mussed, not when the crinkles near his eyes appeared again, not when they were in such a good place.
“Okay.”
-/-
They hadn’t been in this place for long. It had taken a lot of talking and arguing and reasoning to get there. A lot of hurting and painful introspective. But it had been for the best and so she’d endured it. He had too. Because they thought it was worth it.
And honestly, it was worth every tear that had been shed, every long silence that had taken place.
What she got in return was more than anything she could’ve hoped for.
-/-
“Doesn’t it bother you that he’s still free?”
Killian looked up from his book, his brow instantly furrowing. He didn’t need more to know who she was talking about; they hadn’t mentioned his name in weeks, hadn’t encountered him in the time of peace they’d received.
But it had been nagging Emma. He was still out there and as much as they could try and ignore his existence, he still roamed around London being his psychopath self.
Something she struggled with. Call it a savior complex but it felt unfair to have been such a big part of his malfeasance and not prevent others from his wrath and psychotic behavior.
Killian put his book aside and wrapped his arms around Emma’s ankles, pulling her closer to him on the couch.
“This again?”
She sat up and leveled her eyes with him.
“I know you don’t like to talk about it but it has to bother you as much as it bothers me. What happened to try and prove his guilt?”
“I found things that are more important.” His hand brushed over her cheek, the warmth of his hand conveying tenderness along Emma’s skin.
She leaned into his touch, the sudden emotion creeping up her throat. It wasn’t unusual for him to express affection, show how much he cared for her but it still affected her. She wasn’t used to being that adored. And then there was something else.
She hadn’t said I love you yet.
She wanted to say I love you almost every moment she spent with him. But it got stuck on the tip of her tongue every single time.
“I get that but what if he sends his minion to hurt you again? Or other people. What if he goes for Anna or Elsa? I just don’t like that he’s out there, Killian.”
He sighed while averting his eyes from her, placing his chin on her knees. He had to know she was right. She was also pretty certain he felt the same way. His good form was ingrained into him, a crucial part of who he was. He’d want to do the right thing.
Emma placed her hand on his cheek and gently turned his face to her again. In a sad way, her lips curled.
They had to do the right thing.
“What do you want to do?” he asked, the sadness reaching him too.
“Maybe try taking another route? A more legal one this time?” She cocked her head in suggestion.
“We would have to find someone to help us legally, but Gold has people everywhere. They cannot be one of Gold's puppets.”
“I might know someone.”
Might was a wrong word. She knew the perfect someone.
-/-
“Did you ever tell me he went to law school?”
An ambulance raced passed them as they walked on the street, synchronized steps sounding against the concrete. It wasn’t far, only two blocks, but Killian had still grabbed her hand to walk the way.
Emma swung their linked hands.
“I might’ve? I don’t remember.” She shrugged. She’d never thought Samir being a lawyer would be something she’d need but here they were: on their way to his shop.
“And he works in a shop?”
Emma checked the street for incoming cars before quickly crossing and pulling Killian along.
“It’s his dad’s,” she explained. “There’s a whole story behind it, I’m sure.”
“Well, I believe you.”
“Why thank you, Jones, for that assurance.”
He winked in response, eliciting a smile on Emma’s face.
The shop appeared from behind the corner and she smiled. It had been a while since she’d seen Samir, fewer midnight snacks and drinks that needed to be bought recently. Maybe his theory about being a not so happy single was correct.
This was also the first time Samir and Killian would meet and she was looking forward to it. Her favorite people in this city had to meet at some point, and even if this visit wasn’t just for pleasure, it still meant something.
The door opened, the bell rang and they were inside.
The store was empty but not for long as Samir emerged from the back, a pack of what looked like cereal in his hands and blocked his view.
“I’ll be right with you!”
“Take your time, Samir,” she reassured.
As he walked to the cereal rack, back facing them, Samir spoke again: “Is that my favorite customer I hear?”
She laughed.
“It might be.”
“I hope it’s her. My sales have been suffering since she decided to disappear more and more,” Samir replied, still not turned to them.
Emma and Killian looked at each other, both raising their eyebrows with a smile.
Finally, Samir finished putting the boxes away and approached them, a smile directed towards Emma and a curious glance towards Killian and their entwined hands.
“Hi,” she finally greeted her friend properly.
“Hello,” he replied.
Killian patiently waited in silence until Emma introduced the two of them to each other.
“Samir, this is Killian,” she began. “Killian, this is Samir.”
“Nice to meet you, mate.” Killian released her hand and reached for Samir’s outstretched one, the men sharing a quick but genuine shake. “Emma has told me a lot about you.”
“You too, mate.” He nodded. “What brings you to my humble shop?”
Emma took a step forwards.
“Remember when we first talked and I told you that if I ever needed a lawyer, I’d call you?” She gave him a second to recall the memory before she continued. “The moment has come.”
Samir did not seem surprised or taken aback at all. Instead, a fire lit up his dark brown eyes as something Emma couldn’t describe as anything other than determination appeared.
“You’re taking him down?” he asked, looking at the both of them for an answer.
She sought Killian’s eyes, wanted to be sure that they were both one hundred percent sure of the path they were going to go down. When she found them, Emma knew that this was what they were doing, even if it was the last thing they did.
“We are,” she replied, the same determination that could be found in Samir’s eyes now in her voice. “If you’re up for it.”
“Rocky Road.” Samir smiled. “I’d thought you’d never ask.”
-/-
They spent hours, days, weeks searching. Searching for the smallest lead or detail that was off. Soon they realized it was like searching for a needle in a haystack.
And it was fucking frustrating.
How could Gold never once have made a misstep? How was that even possible? All humans make a mistake at some point, so why didn’t he?
Samir couldn’t do a lot if they had nothing to go off. He couldn’t think of a charge without proof, couldn’t magically make an accusation appear out of thin air.
Killian tried using the things he’d gathered before but the tidbits of information were mostly outdated and incorrect.
Emma… well she got more frustrated by the minute and wasn’t as useful to the investigation as her companions.
It was so unfair. On paper, this man was a saint. Donations to nonprofits, he tipped fairly, he even recycled. You name it and The Honorable Mr. Gold had most likely done it.
Which, again, was fucking frustrating.
Emma grunted, throwing one of their folders on Killian’s coffee table. She let her head drop into her hands, momentarily sick of reading and reading, processing information without discovering anything valuable, anything useful for the case they were trying to build.
A case that was currently non-existent because of said shortage of information.
She sighed against her palms and closed her eyes. An empty nothing was better than going back to the file, with information being catapulted at her.
A headache was forming between her temples and so she stayed like that, hands half-buried in her hair and forehead leaning against her palms.
Suddenly, a hand grabbed her shoulder.
“Oh god!” She jumped and placed her hand over her heart as she saw who the culprit was. “You scared the shit out of me.”
Killian stood next to her with an apologetic grimace on his lips and a plastic bag in his hand.
“Apologies, love. I did announce I was home,” he defended himself, not to take the blame off of himself but to tell her it wasn’t on purpose.
“It’s fine. It’s my fault, I wasn’t paying attention.” She got up and quickly kissed his mouth in way of greeting.
A delicious smell wafted upwards and reached her nose, making her stomach growl. She’d forgotten to eat. Again.
“You bought Chinese?”
He’d told her that he wasn’t the biggest fan of Chinese food and that he ate it maybe once every three years (and that was a broad estimate) So every time he came home with takeout, she knew he did it for her. Because she loved it almost as much as he didn’t like it. Because he’d thought of her while walking past the Chinese restaurant and wanted to make her happy.
She should really tell him she loved him.
“I was in the mood for some spring rolls,” Killian shrugged.
Emma wasn’t falling for his act and stepped back into his personal space, lips searching his again, this time for more than just a peck.
They broke apart, their chests heaving ever so slightly as they both came up for air.
“I should best put this on the table,” he said, his hand lifting the bag of Chinese food again.
Tell him.
Tell him.
Emma, tell him.
“Killian?” she blurted out, her mouth acting before her mind could reconsider.
“Aye?” He turned to her with expectant eyes which definitely didn’t help with the stress that was tormenting her body right now.
Emma took a deep breath, thanks to their earlier tiny make out session, she could attribute her breathlessness to that and not to the source of her fast-beating heart and sweaty palms.
“I love you,” she said and she felt lighter instantaneously. “I thought you should know that.”
Killian left the Chinese food for what it was and strode towards her, only three big strides before he reached her, touched her, kissed her.
She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him back, wrapping her arms around his neck.
“I love you,” he echoed the words, whispered them against her slightly swollen lips. “I thought you should know that too.”
Laughter bubbled out of Emma with the complete happiness and tranquility she finally felt, and of that earlier frustration, there was nothing left.
-/-
“Honestly, I think it’s bollocks. He must’ve paid someone to clear his records. No one is this clean,” Samir mumbled through his full mouth of spaghetti.
Emma sipped from her glass of water and set it back down on the table before taking another bite of her own food.
Quite early on, they discovered that once the three of them—Emma, Killian, and Samir—got together to discuss their plans, it usually turned into just friends hanging out for a while as they all got along extremely well. Emma had honestly been afraid that her friend and her boyfriend wouldn’t get along at first but now, they sometimes got along too well. They had a serious bromance going on and she wouldn’t say she was jealous but she wouldn’t mind if they got along slightly less either. So they went from random meetings in the middle of the day to actual planned dinner evenings for a perfect mix of business and casual.
So that was why Samir was now stuffing his face with Killian’s divine spaghetti and commenting on how he thought the situation was bullshit.
Which Emma agreed with one hundred percent.
“I know, mate, but we have nothing else to go on,” Killian reacted.
“Have we covered all bases?” Samir asked again, but they had. “Youth? Career? Family? Anything we could’ve missed?”
Killian shook his dark locks in a negative answer.
“Milah told me he had no family to speak of so that’s a dead end.”
Emma froze, her eyes popping open as she dropped her fork on the table.
Gold’s brother.
“What did you say, Swan?” Killian frowned as Emma had apparently not only thought it but had actually spoken it out loud.
She cleared her throat before repeating what she had just come to realize. “Gold has a brother.”
“A brother?” Both Killian and Samir said in unison—there was that bromance she was speaking of.
She turned to Killian and grabbed a hold of his prosthetic.
“The guy that attacked the both of us, his name is Malcolm Gold.”
“How do you know that?” he asked.
She knew it because Malcolm’s ego got hurt and he wanted to boast about his powerful name to scare her even more.
"He told me. He might be lying but there is a similarity between the two that makes me think he was telling the truth and that they are brothers."
She got up, not waiting for any type of reaction from the both of them, not having the patience to wait for them to collect their thoughts on the information she’d just handed them.
Emma had already wasted enough time by not thinking of a lead she had had all along, from way before they had decided to try and take Gold down together. She didn’t have the time to be angry with herself right now, that would come later, now she needed to grab her computer as quickly possible.
Faster than ever before, she typed in her password and pulled up some of the online tools she’d often use while researching one of her cases. ‘Malcolm Gold’ she typed in and fervently asked Zeus, the universe, to give her this one thing, to give her something to work with.
“And?” Killian asked, still seated at the table, seemingly understanding what she was attempting to do.
She looked up from the bright computer screen and smirked at her team.
“It seems our dear Malcolm isn’t as good in hiding his tracks as his baby brother is.”
-/-
Malcolm Gold was, as Emma discovered, a man of many facets. One of them being an arsonist, another one of them being a notorious drug dealer who was the supplier of a variation of cocaine called Fairy Dust.
Not the most positive of reputations. And yet, somehow, he had spent a grand total of thirty-one hours in jail.
And there it was.
A lead.
After Emma’s discovery, it was all hands on deck; it was countless all-nighters with coffee as their only fuel. It was reading and more reading until their eyeballs went dry.
It took so much but they’d done it.
She was about ready to cry when Samir told her the news.
They had an airtight case. Gold was guilty of blackmail, extortion and the fabrication and distribution of narcotics.
And the son of a bitch was going to jail for it.
-/-
They stood in the parking lot of the courthouse, Emma and Killian leaning against Killian’s Toyota and talking in low voices in case someone overheard them. This was a big moment, something they’d worked towards for months, but Emma couldn’t stop shaking.
Months of work were depending on this. Innocent lives were depending on this. Her sanity in general was depending on this. So, it was safe to say that the stakes were pretty damn high.
From across the parking lot, she saw Samir appear, dressed in a dark suit that made him look way older than his young twenty-four years. She had total faith in him, however. He was relentless and thorough. And he was her friend.
“Hello,” he greeted them and they smiled in response.
“You’re sure you don’t want to come inside too?” Samir asked.
She looked at Killian and saw the exact same answer in his eyes. They didn’t want to face him again, not after all he had done and attempted to do. The man was a maniac and the less time they had to spend in his company, the better.
“No, Samir,” Killian said in her stead. Her hands weren’t the only thing that was shaking. “This is all you. We believe in you and we want to thank you for all that you’ve done for us. You’re a true friend.” He clasped his shoulder before going for a hug.
“What about you, Rocky Road?” Samir said as he turned to her. “Will you be alright?”
“Of course,” she finally spoke, managing the tiniest smile. “I trust you completely.” Emma looked him in the eye, reassured when she saw the embers burn in his eyes. “Go destroy him.”
Samir smiled at her and nodded sternly before giving her a hug as well. “For what he did to you,” he whispered as his arms were around her, “–gladly.”
Gold was not prepared for the fury he was about to meet.
“If it’s alright with you, mate, I’m taking Emma home,” Killian said and Emma looked at him in confusion. That wasn’t what they had planned.
Before she could question it, he silently grabbed her hand and squeezed and while she didn’t exactly fully understand what he was saying, she understood enough to not disagree. He really wanted to take her home, so she’d let him. There wasn’t a lot she could do on a courthouse parking lot, either way.
“Fine by me,” Samir replied, “I’ll call you with the verdict.”
Emma was curious about what Killian’s plans were once they got home but he simply took off his jacket as they entered the apartment, toed off his shoes, motioned her to take off her own and led her to the couch once she had. He settled into it and opened his arms to welcome her, an invitation she’d glady–always– accept.
For the time they lay on the couch, there was only Killian and nothing else. No sorrow or fear, only love and warmth. Her hands finally stopped trembling.
In the peace of the purest tranquility, she fell asleep surrounded by him. His heartbeat under her head, his scent in her nose, his legs tangled with hers.
It must’ve been hours later when she woke up, her body still glued to his but the light entering through the window completely different from when they had first gotten comfortable in the sofa. Cranking her eyes open, she looked up and found Killian looking at her with soft eyes, hand smoothing over some unruly blonde hair. He bowed his head and tenderly pressed his lips to her hair.
“We won.”
She sought his eyes and saw the honesty and contentment that lovely shade of blue emitted. Emma didn’t reply to his statement, not in words anyway. She just tightened her arms around him even more and kissed his collarbone before closing her eyes and feeling yet another kiss on her skin, this time on her forehead.
And at last, the mist of grey had lifted and left just the tiniest sparkle of brightness.
-------------------------------------
And that's it. Our bbis get a happy ending and all was well. I'd like to thank you all for coming onto this ride with me and staying loyal fans as the fic progressed. I'd like to thank everyone who left a comment, a like, fun tags, a kudos. While writing the chapters, I sometimes thought "but what if no one likes this fic I've been working on for months", but the response has been incredible so thank you, thank you, thank you! I hope you enjoyed the ride and I hope you have a lovely 2019. Bye!
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Timeless Top Ten: Moments That Made Us Cry
Only ten more days until @timeless-season-three returns, Jan 13 at 8/7 central!? Thank God, we’ve been crying over the long wait for what feels like forever!
Speaking of crying… We’ve laughed, we’ve screamed, and now it’s time for us to remember those moments where we got a roundhouse of feels to the face. Let’s look at the top ten moments that had us wiping the snot off our faces and made our roommates/families/significant others shoot us worried looks.
(Also Rufus stars in literally half of these moments. What the hell Rufus. Stop making us cry. How dare you. It’s like we love you or something.)
10. “We’re your family too.” In 3x02 The Montgomery Bus Boycott, Wyatt is feeling lost and has already almost screwed up Rufus’s rescue mission in the previous episode. Denise goes into Mom mode and talks to him, and we see a huge amount of vulnerability from both people. It’s probably the first time in a while that the audience can really identify with Wyatt—who hasn’t felt lost and not known what they wanted in life or who they are?—but it’s Denise’s compassion and support that really bring the tears. She gently reprimands Wyatt, but also reminds him that she and the rest of the time team are his family. It’s the Mom moment that we all probably wish we had.
9. “Feels like I got punched in the gut.” In 3x06 The Tsarevich, our favorite historical boy Houdini take a bullet meant for Lucy. When she visits him in the hospital later and asks how he’s doing, he says that it feels like he got punched in the gut. For those who are unaware—Houdini dies doing an underwater trick, unable to hold his breath long enough because of internal injuries sustained from a punch to his stomach earlier. It’s just a little sad foreshadowing, but for us to be reminded that a character we love so much will in fact die so horribly and so young… and that Lucy once again can’t really do anything to stop it… pass the tissues.
8. Rufus makes Jiya cry. At the beginning of 3x06, Jiya tries once again to reach out to Rufus. She’s rebuffed, and none too kindly, and runs away in tears. Rufus is still clearly struggling and we can see he feels horrible for how he’s hurting her, but doesn’t know what else to do. It’s like Rufus is on a speeding train and he can’t find the emergency brake, and it breaks our hearts to see him in such pain—and to see him hurting someone that he loves so very much. Jiya goes through the wringer this first half as she gets the impossible—the love of her life back—and then has to spend weeks having him push her away. There are few things more painful, or tear-inducing, than that.
7. “Tell Michelle and the kids that I love them. So much.” In 3x07 Pasadena, Mom Denise comes to the fore again as she and Lucy realize that Rittenhouse is closing in on the bunker. With the Lifeboat gone and no other options, Denise forces Lucy to run and save herself while Denise sacrifices her life to buy her time. Thank God the Lifeboat arrives just in the nick of time to scoop the two of them away because for a moment it really looked like we were going to lose our Bunker Mama, and that would’ve been so many levels of Not Okay.
6. The death of the Rosenbergs. In an act of desperation, Lucy shoots Julius Rosenberg to death before he can be taken away by Rittenhouse. Ethel Rosenberg, screaming with grief, vows to devote her life to destroying Lucy—only for our resident mystery girl Jane to come out of nowhere and shoot Ethel to death as well. A furious and self-loathing Lucy then tries to go after Emma, but Jiya stops her. It’s a painful moment on several levels for every character involved (except Emma), including Jane who cries as she kills Ethel, but the moment that probably got everyone sobbing into their ice cream is watching Ethel scream out her rage and grief as Lucy does exactly what Rittenhouse did to her: she destroys a family.
5. “You think there’s anything that scares [white supremacists] more than a… black man who stands there with just his bare hands, and says he ain’t afraid?” Bayard Rustin in The Montgomery Bus Boycott gives Rufus some food for thought—and brings us all to tears as he reminds us of every single brave protestor who has faced down death, SWAT teams, tear gas, and more with nothing but their dignity and their devotion to justice. It’s a badass moment but also a moving one as we remember every single person who gave their lives by having the courage to stand still and say no. You move.
4. Rufus dies. Yes we already saw it happen but watching it all over again in Chinatown Part II where Wyatt, Flynn, and Connor realize they’re too late… dear God my heart. When going back in time in our season premiere to save Rufus, the three men have to try and not destabilize the timeline by changing the events leading up to Rufus’s death too much. But this means that they miss their window and have to watch Rufus die in their arms. Fortunately the mysterious Jane appears and gives them a strange injection that brings Rufus back, but those few seconds were absolute torture.
3. Rufus calls his mother. It seems the badass moments and the crying moments are all mixed together this season, probably because the moments that require you to be a badass are also the moments where the world tries to tear you down. Rhonda Carlin’s response to realizing her son is alive is all the hope and terror that we too would feel if someone we loved literally came back from the dead, and when Rufus says “I wanted to tell you that I’m alive. I’m alive,” we’re all doing that hiccup-cry where our eyes are swollen and red, because Rufus might have come back—but so many black men haven’t. And then Rufus has to say goodbye again—and doesn’t know when, or if, he’ll ever see his mom in person again.
Yeah, I don’t think I was the only one running to hug my mom after that scene.
And for the first time, we have a TIE for number one! Two moments that for different but equally valid reasons made us ugly sob and make our families ask if we watched a video of a puppy dying. And these two moments are….
1. Flynn talks to White about losing his family in 3x05. The things that Flynn says about losing his family, and the grief that comes with realizing you’re moving on and the feeling of betrayal that accompanies it, is such a universal and painfully intimate feeling. Every single one of us has had to lose someone they loved and then woken up one day to realize… they’re getting used to that empty space. It’s not just pure sadness—it’s also self-loathing, it’s the feeling of failing the ones you love, it’s depression, it’s anger, it’s denial. It’s “how dare you be happy or forget your loss for even a moment.” I’ll eat my hat if every single person reading that moment didn’t have to stop and remember their own personal losses and walk around the room for a minute to cry and calm themselves down.
1. MLK Jr. talks to Rufus. While Bayard Rustin is a bit firmer with Rufus, MLK speaks to him with the gentleness and peaceful center that made him so loved. Peace doesn’t equal being a doormat, though, and MLK reminds Rufus—reminds all of us—to have faith. By the time MLK Jr. asks if he can bless Rufus, despite Rufus’s atheism, we’re crying, and by the time he tells Rufus that if Rufus is from the future then the future is in good hands, we’re a mess of snot and tears. Not just because we love Rufus (and we really, really do) but because of the larger social context, the backdrop of the struggle, the war, for equality that we’re still fighting.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I used up my entire box of tissues and I need to go get another one.
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December 12th Christmas Devotional
1 Nephi 11:18
And he said unto me: Behold, the virgin whom thou seest is the mother of the Son of God, after the manner of the flesh.
Christmas Bells Are Ringing
Christmas bells are ringing. Hear what they say to you: Jesus is born in Bethlehem, in Bethlehem.
Christmas bells, ringing, singing: Jesus is born, is born in Bethlehem, born in Bethlehem.
Emma’s Christmas Wish
by Sallyann F. Murphey
Outside, snow tumbled down, piling against gates and doorways, obliterating the road, and filling the old farmhouse with opalescent light. Inside, all was quiet—except for the whisper of voices upstairs: “Rosie, please…We must have Christmas, and how can we do that without the Christmas book?”
“But Dad told us we couldn’t this year. No Christmas, no cookies, no carols, no…anything…” The seven-year-old’s bottom lip began to quiver.
The owner of the first voice sighed. She was an attractive thirteen-year-old, with a mane of tawny curls and bright green eyes, which now gazed compassionately at her small sister.
“That’s not what he said,” Emma corrected her gently. “What he said was that Mom won’t be coming home.”
The past few weeks had been hard on both girls. In early November their mother, Jan, had taken to her bed. Just before Thanksgiving, she’d been whisked off to a hospital a hundred miles away for what Dad mysteriously called “tests.” They hadn’t seen her since.
“Rosie’s too young to visit,” Ben Metcalfe had explained, “and I’m relying on you, Emma, to look after her while I’m gone.” Then yesterday he’d delivered the bad news: Their mother was very sick and might not be back for months.
“I think Dad’s wrong,” Emma said now. “I’m convinced that we can get Mom home.”
Her sister looked at her with huge eyes.
“Last night, I dreamed we were having Christmas like always, except we were doing the work—not Mom. We did everything just the way she likes it. Then, on Christmas Eve, we heard a voice saying what good children we’d been. It was her, Rosie–and she told us that our work had made her well. I’m sure that if we can pull Christmas together, Mom’ll be here to enjoy it.”
The little girl nodded solemnly. “OK. Where do we begin?”
“Well, let’s start by finding the book.”
As the sisters searched through dusty attic boxes, Emma tried to cheer Rosie along. “Remember last year—when Mom was making gingerbread?” she reminisced. “The air was this wonderful mix of smells: pine needles, spices, warm sugar….”
“…and don’t forget Mom’s scent,” Rosie added.
Emma smiled. It was their mother’s only indulgence—a carryover from her big city beginnings as a career woman in a business suit. These days, Jan Metcalfe dressed in sneakers and jeans, but she couldn’t give up that daily dab of perfume.
“I can just see her,” Emma mused, “dancing between bubbling pots and all those bowls, mixing and stirring, checking her recipes again and again…”
“Those recipes….” Rosie echoed. “Emma!” she burst out, “I bet the scrapbook’s in the kitchen!”
The girls flew downstairs.
The family scrapbook, or album, had been started six generations before, when their great-great-great-great-grandmother Marianne first wrote in the ledger she had brought with her from France.
She did this in 1835, when the family was living in the log cabin that once stood where the farmhouse stood today. The circumstances were a matter of record because Marianne had included a diary entry about her new home, preceding some instructions for wheat bread. Since then, all Metcalfe wives had taken their turn, contributing favorite recipes and crafts and short paragraphs about their lives. Their mother added to it often and, as the girls now discovered, kept it in a kitchen drawer.
They settled down to read it, passing over yellowed pages until they came to their mom’s distinctive scrawl. Then Emma found what she’d hoped for—Jan’s “Countdown to Christmas: A Guide to Holiday Plans.”
“Here it is,” she said. “A blueprint we can follow.”
The moment they finished school, the girls began working through their mother’s list. Step one was to “give everything a thorough cleaning,” and they went at it with a will. In the evenings, they gravitated to the kitchen where they used the album to put together their Christmas menus.
Some dishes, they learned, were decided on generations back. Roast beef and Yorkshire pudding, for instance, had been the main meal at Christmas since Nana Jessie arrived from Britain after World War II. The little crocks of rumtopf (fruits preserved in liquor) that were prepared each summer for use as Christmas gifts were a custom that their great-great-grandmother Anna had brought with her from Germany in 1889. She had also given the family their treasured recipe for christollen bread. The onion soup they still ate on Christmas Eve had been invented by Great-Grandma Kathleen during the Depression, when that was all the food they had.
“I’m glad she did,” Rosie exclaimed. “Can we have it again this year?”
“Of course!” Emma assured her. “Remember, for this to work we have to stick to Mom’s plan.”
“I know, but we’ve also got to make macaroons, vanilla fudge, marzipan, Turkish delight, coconut ice, and peppermint creams,” Rosie declared. “And don’t forget the sugar cookies, shortbread, and Nana Jessie’s Battenberg cake.”
“Rosie, we’ve got only three weeks!” Emma reminded her. “And we need time for the gingerbread village.”
“You’re not going to try that?” Rosie was incredulous.
“Why not? Mom makes one every year,” Emma replied.
For the next few days, the kitchen came alive with the sounds of clinking bowls, crashing pans, and bursts of helpless giggles. Emma was a good cook—she had won a fistful of ribbons at the county fair—but the girls still had their share of disasters. Pastry burned, sponge cake sank, and the christollen bread almost blew the oven pdoor off.
“Watch out!” Rosie shrieked. “It’s going to explode.” Both girls stared at the balloon of dough that hissed and heaved against the oven window.
Emma scratched her head. “I followed the instructions.” She went over to the book and rechecked the recipe. “See…..exactly as it says.”
“Not quite,” Rosie pointed out, peering over. “You’re supposed to split it into six loaves.”
Throughout it all, Ben came and went, too tired to notice the strange fragrances or a sprinkling of flour. The man had exhausted himself juggling work, home, and the 200-mile round-trip to the hospital each day. The doctors had discovered what was wrong—Hantavirus, they said, an illness new to America—but they had no medicines to offer. His wife’s body had to fight this off on its own, and all that Ben could do was watch, consumed by his own worrying.
Then, one afternoon he came home to find the girls garlanding the stairs.
“What are you two up to?” he asked mildly amused.
Rosie looked guilty, and Emma looked resigned.
“Dad, I know what you said,” she began, “but we thought we should go ahead with Christmas, in case Mom’s home in time. We’ve done most of the work already. We haven’t made a mess.”
“I can see that,” he nodded, glancing around. The windows glittered, the floors shone, and a freshly made holly wreath hung above the mantelpiece. “You’ve been busy,” he murmured.
“And that’s not all,” Rosie burst out. “We’ve made the Christmas food, too.”
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Playing Pretend has finally come to a close... I feel like it’s been forever, but I finally got the courage to finish this. Thank you to everyone who has loved and supported and stuck with this story. I really couldn’t have done it without you!! As always, thanks to my eternal hype squad--Admins Ellie and Alyx and my best girl, Hanna. You ladies are the best! Reminder, this is from Daichi’s POV and is under a cut for length.
~Admin Emma
Playing Pretend Epilogue
{Part 1}{Part 2}{Part 3}{Part 4}{Part 5}{Part 6}{Part 7}{Part 8}{Part 9}{Part 10}{Kuroo Special}{Kuroo Special 2}{Asahi Special}
Two Years Later
“Does it hurt?”
“No worse than usual, Dr. Sawamura.”
“On a scale of one to ten?”
“Mmm… about a six.”
“I see… how about now?”
“Better.”
I didn’t know how my life had gotten to this point. I didn’t know how I’d come to rediscover my interest in sports therapy; I didn’t know how I came to be an apprentice for one of the top physiotherapists in Japan, working regularly with the National Teams. I most certainly didn’t know how Ushijima Wakatoshi became a regular patient of mine when he sustained a minor shoulder injury. At this point, it was mostly maintenance work, but he still grimaced every time we did reverse flies; I tucked that information away for safekeeping. I would have continued to work with him, but his hour was up, and his young son was getting restless.
“I think that’s enough for today,” I said, setting his chart off to the side. “All in all, I think you’re doing well. You should have 100% range of motion back with a few more sessions, but don’t quote me on that. Dr. Haruko is the only one who can officially make that call.”
“I trust you, Sawamura,” Ushijima said mildly, pulling his t-shirt back on. “You’ve worked with me more than Dr. Haruko has, and I value your opinion.”
I grinned, unable to stop myself from preening a bit at his praise; “Well, I appreciate it. But you’re all set. Keep taking care of that shoulder--do your stretches, keep icing it, and wear your brace during practices and games. I’ll see you for your normal session next week.”
“Aww, I wanted Dai-chan to come visit again this weekend!” Yuuji--Ushijima’s five-year-old son, which would have been hard to believe, except he was his father’s spitting image--exclaimed. “I wanted to show ____ my Legos!”
“She bought you those Legos,” Ushijima countered gently, kneeling to zip up Yuuji’s coat. “She’s seen them.”
“Yeah, but it’s not the same,” Yuuji pouted.
I smiled, reaching into one of the many drawers, and pulled out one of the stickers I kept stocked; “Sorry, squirt. Next time, I promise. If your mom says it’s ok.”
“You know Noriko loves having you,” Ushijima said evenly, gently patting Yuuji’s hair. “You and ____ both.”
“Never hurts to check,” I riposted, sticking the sticker to Yuuji’s coat. It was simple--a cartoon bundle of grapes with the caption “I’m Grape!!!” Something about it had spoken to me in the store. “I would this weekend, but Asahi’s wedding…”
“Asahi?” Ushijima tilted his head in askance. “Ah, Azumane. Yes, I remember him.”
“You remember a volleyball game from high school?” I raised my eyebrows incredulously--Ushijima had barely mentioned our early volleyball days, but he’d never once mentioned he knew an old teammate of mine. To tell the truth, I couldn’t think of any other situation where they would know each other.
“No,” Ushijima answered. “Well, yes, I remember that game, but I remember Azumane from a shoot he headed about four years ago for the Japanese national team. I also remember the girl with him. She was quite sweet--he’s marrying her?”
“Yeah. The first in our group; he’s grown up so fast,” I teased, though the jibe went over Ushijima’s head, apparently.
“Ah, I was not aware. Please wish him congratulations on my behalf,” Ushijima said.
Yuuji interjected when he pointed excitedly at his sticker; “Dad! Dad, it says I’m Grape!”
“That you are,” Ushijima said with a fond smile, scooping his son into his arms. “Come on, I bet your mom misses us.”
“Noriko usually joins you,” I pointed out, shuffling his papers into their proper files. “Is she alright?”
“Mama’s cooking a new baby, so she needs naps,” Yuuji said with comical solemnity. “That’s what Dad told me.”
I stifled my snort of laughter; “Ah. I didn’t realize. I suppose congratulations are in order?”
“Thank you,” Ushijima replied with a fond smile at his son. “Yuuji, would you tell Dr. Sawamura if you’re getting a brother or a sister? I seem to have forgotten.”
“Dad,” Yuuji giggled, bouncing excitedly in his father’s arms. “I told you already--Mommy is giving me a sister!”
“Oh, right,” Ushijima responded, his face still flat and serious. “My mistake.”
“Congratulations,” I repeated. “A little girl… that’s exciting.”
“I’m terrified,” Ushijima said, his arms tightening around Yuuji. “I haven’t the first idea how to raise a little girl. Yuuji is a handful, but we understand each other just fine.”
“Because you’re my dad,” Yuuji interjected, like it explained everything.
“Right,” Ushijima responded with a short nod. “But your dad has never had a sister before.”
“Girls aren’t much different than boys,” I interrupted. “At least, from what I understand...aside from the obvious, anyway.”
“Dad, what’s the obvious?” Yuuji asked. “Is it that boys have a penis and girls have a vagina?”
Ushijima huffed an embarrassed laugh, hiding it in his son’s coat, while I proceeded to near double over in laughter; “I see you taught him the basics.”
“I don’t know where he got it, but he won’t stop saying it,” Ushijima chuckled, trying to stifle it with his fist. “Noriko says if we stop laughing at it, he’ll stop saying it, but it’s just--”
“It’s hilarious.”
~~~
Ushijima was my last appointment of the day, and even though I was exhausted, we had a long way to go. I pulled up to the elementary school where ____ was teaching, hoping her club activities were almost ready to get out. It was a gorgeous day, and her team of fifth-grade boys were doing spiking practice, but the looks of it. I couldn’t help but admire the running tights she wore under her shorts, or the fine sheen of sweat on her face. I couldn’t help but be taken by how happy she seemed, playing volleyball with her students and passing on her passion and knowledge. I would never admit it aloud, but I was baffled by the fact she thought she would be bad at teaching. She was marvelous.
Once again, I thought to the ring I had hidden in my sock drawer, tucked safely away. This weekend wouldn’t be the right time--what kind of asshole proposes at someone else’s wedding--but I could feel it. The right time.
It didn't take long for her to wrap up practice and send the boys on their way, but it still put us behind schedule, especially because I knew she would want to shower before we left. I didn’t really mind when she gave me an exuberant kiss when she got in the car.
“Hey, handsome,” she murmured against my lips. “How was work?”
“The usual,” I replied. “Yuuji’s adorable, as always. He loves his Legos.”
“Oh, good! How’s Noriko?”
“Pregnant, apparently,” I replied.
“Wow, that’s… sort of hard to believe. Noriko is our age!”
“I find it hard to believe that Super Volleyball Idiot Ushijima Wakatoshi has a child… who adores him. Let alone two, if I’m being totally honest.”
“Are you jealous?” ____ poked me in the side playfully.
I swatted back at her, trying to pull off to our street; “Maybe a little. I’ve always wanted kids; you know that.”
“Aww, Daichi,” she cooed, gathering her bags from her feet. “That’s adorable.”
“Don’t most guys want to be husbands and dads?”
“Most guys our age don’t admit it,” she replied flippantly. “I’m going to shower; the bags are packed and then we can hit the road.”
“I still can’t believe I’m on my way to Azumane Asahi’s wedding,” I groaned, running my hands through my hair. “It’s weird how some things work out.”
“Yuki is my baby sister,” ____ shouted from the bathroom. “How do you think I feel?”
“Yuki says she’s five minutes younger than you!”
“Semantics,” she said. I could practically hear her dismissive hand wave. “I’m still the oldest!”
Gathering our things and prepping for the long weekend was easy. ____ was nothing if not a fastidious planner (my guess was I had her years as Bokuto’s friend and study buddy to thank) so I was left with too much time to myself to think while I waited for her to finish. I’d pulled the little box more than twenty or thirty times since I’d bought it. It was simple--a solitary, round-cut sapphire in a white-gold band. I’d seen it and… I’d just known. I’d hesitated, and I didn’t want to propose at the wedding, but I was just…
I was so in love. I spent so much time making myself miserable, from that first kiss all the way until I’d finally told her I’d loved her, because I hesitated. I didn’t want to hesitate anymore.
“Daichi, what is that?”
I hadn’t heard her come in, and it took all my self control not to snap the box closed and stuff it under my pillow or something. Instead, I scratched the back of my neck nervously, turning it so she could see. Her hands flew to her mouth when she saw the ring.
“It’s your engagement ring,” I said bluntly. “Hopefully. If you… if you want it, that is. I want it to be, anyway.”
“Daichi…”
“Listen, I had something planned, alright? But then that plan was awful and I came up with a new plan, and just… I think I’ve come up with about thirty different plans for how to do this, and every single one of them has sucked, and I just… I just want to ask, so I don’t accidentally blurt it out at the wedding and ruin everything. Do you… would you marry me?”
Silence. Dead, crippling, stifling silence. I never thought it could be so frightening to hear absolutely nothing, but there it was. Just when I was ready to write it off as a joke, or take it back before the inevitable rejection, there was a small hiccup. I looked up, and there she was, a giant, toothy smile on her face, tears rolling freely.
“I will,” she said softly.
“You… you will?”
“Yes, Daichi,” she replied with a laugh. Without warning, she launched herself into my arms, squeezing tight.
A bubble of happiness formed in my chest that threatened to burst any moment; I couldn’t stop grinning as I held her tight; “I’m glad I asked.”
“You big dork, of course I want to marry you,” she half-laughed-half-cried. “I love you so much, Daichi. You have no idea.”
I took her face into my hands, gently cupping those gorgeous cheeks. She leaned into my touch, smiling at me in a way that always made my heart skip, no matter what. She was so beautiful… and nothing compared to the fond look in her eyes. It really made me feel like something special… like I was someone worth crying over.
And then we kissed… we’d kissed nearly every day for the past two years, and it had gone from exhilirating and new to something comforting and warm in that time. But this kiss was different. It said things--that we would work things out; that she understood she couldn’t wear the ring to the wedding; that Bokuto would 100% want to be involved, and that it was OK… it told me everything was real. She was real, and so was what we had. No matter the shaky foundation we’d lain, what we had was… if not perfect, then as close as it could get.
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Come,Night
CS Lieutenant Duckling
Summary: Princess Emma loves waking past the Jewel of the Realm just to catch a glimpse of Lieutenant Killian Jones. One day while out by the docks she is told news that upsets her and makes a decision that changes her relationship with Killian forever.
Rating: S because this chapter got smutty.
Part 7 of 8 (?)
A/N: Thank you so much to the wonderful Becky for being my beta even though I haven’t written in forever. You are the best. I would be lost without you.I know I say this all the time but it’s true. Only you know how to read my two thoughts at once moments when I write. For those still reading this fic, if anyone still is, here is chapter 7. I know I said 6 was the final chapter of the fic but things changed in my mind for it. I never intended to go past 6 but oh well. I hope you have enjoy the chapter and how I have continued it. I think chapter 8 might be the end but who knows. Thank you for reading it. It means the world to me.
Chapter 1,2,3, 4 ,5 and 6 plus the prequel can be found on FF.net with 7.
Now on AO3.
The air around Emma was thick and suffocating, there appeared to be a mist slowly engulfing her feet and rising up around her. Opening her mouth Emma tried to call out to see if anyone was there but she knew right away she was alone. Looking around in hopes of finding a door or a person dim lights suddenly flickered all around her as they fought to stay on. Like light breezes from the wind, Emma was hit by words said in a whisper.
"Love it's the lark."
"I promise to return with your suitor in one piece Princess Emma."
"I was scared you would die."
Slowly an image came to form under the flickering lights. It was her and Killian but what seemed from a different lifetime. Their clothing seemed like they had come from a BBC production of a Jane Austen novel. Emma smiled as she caught of glimpse of Killian in what appeared to be a Naval uniform and herself in a simple muslin nightgown. They were in a room at night and she was happy to see him even though her cheeks were tear stained. Killian's forehead was pressed against hers. Emma could see his lips moving but not the words. Tip toeing over she watched the beautiful scene play out as it started to fade. She caught Killian's last words "True love lives through death."
"Especially the one with the stone balcony"
On the opposite side of Emma another image appeared it was of a garden she had dreamt of many times before. Once again she saw herself standing there with, Neal. He had the same disgusting sly grin and arrogant demeanor that she knew all too well. Emma ran as she watched her body twitch in disgust as he touched her, trying to imprint his fingerprints in her skin but by the time she reached them, they were gone.
"It's a cinquefoil"
Emma touched the small silver pendant that hung from neck as the danced by her. For as long as she could remember, she had worn the pendant but never knew, or had asked where it came from.
"I heard there was to be a ravaging."
"Emma"
"Killian"
The image of two bodies tangled in sheets appeared before her. Emma could hear their moans and pleas to the other. Not knowing whether to close her eyes or move closer she stood still and watched. There was something familiar about that moment. The more she watched the more she realized it was her and Killian. Suddenly, a wave of emotion hit her as she knew in that moment what it felt like to be with Killian even though she never had.
"I love you"
"I love you"
Not wanting to experience anymore Emma ran through the darkness and the mist. Desperately she needed to find a way out. The images came at her faster. She saw her parents in royal dress, Ruby transforming into a werewolf, Killian and his brother Liam in Naval uniforms, Neal aimlessly talking to her as he vied for her affection and worst of all herself. Multiple images of her life formed as she ran past. Crying and broken when Neal spoke to her, scared as she watched Killian leave her room and happiness as she saw the two of them asleep under her sheets. Emma couldn't take it any longer and collapsed to the ground. The words "As you Wish" blanketing over her as they repeated themselves but they were not strong enough to protect her.
"Let me put it on you."
Through the mist Emma could see the Swan Charm necklace hanging from Neal's hand, but they were back in the garden. The background was different but the necklace was the same. Emma remembered it clearly since she had placed it in a box on top of her dresser. How was this all possible?
"He is a pirate in a military uniform.......dead mother.........fugitive father........a brother who begged your father to allow him into the navy as a teenager...... He's nothing compared to me and you being a smart girl would always choose what's best for her kingdom..... I hope you are just as passionate in other activities...... Remember how she took pity on you one night because from now on the only name Emma will be calling out is mine....Make no mistake you will be mine."
"STOP IT" Emma screamed as the cruel words bombarded her. Every last word was in Neal's voice.
"Emma" A different voice called to her.
"Killian?" Abruptly Emma got up from the ground and looked around hoping that he was close by.
"Emma" It called to her again.
"Killian, where are you? I can hear you but can't see you?" Believing the voice was in front of her Emma ran towards it.
"Emma" It seemed to be getting closer.
"I'm almost there. Just wait for me." Emma yelled back as she could see the blue of Killian's eyes in the darkness. She was getting closer to him. Killian's hand rose from the mist and extended towards Emma. His fingertips inched toward her. "I can reach you Killian." Emma's fingertips reached out to grab his own. "Almost there."
"Emma" Killian called out as the world Emma was in seemed to crumble around her.
"NO!" She shouted pushing harder to reach him. "KILLIAN!"
Emma shot up in bed as her parents opened the door to her room. It was still dark only moonlight lighting the room. Cool air had filled her room but Emma was dripping with sweat, and strands of hair clung to her face. Her mother pushed the hair out of the way and grabbed her cheeks to make her look in her eyes, but it was of no use. Emma stared at the window and watched the curtains dance. Every fiber of her being hated those curtains because they reminded her of something and now the dream was making her want to rip them down and burn them.
"Emma look at me" Mary Margaret breathed out with panic in her voice.
"Emma please look at your mother. You had another nightmare." David said as he sat on the bed trying to help as best as he could.
"I'm sorry." Emma whispered out as she snapped from her trance like state.
"You have nothing to be sorry for." Mary Margaret pulled her daughter into a hug. "It was another nightmare."
"Emma why were you calling out for Killian?" Her father asked with concern. "Did he hurt you because..."
"Dad no." Emma broke from her mother's hug and looked directly at her father. "It was probably because of something in the nightmare." She wanted so much to tell them everything she saw, but they would think she was crazy. "I don't really remember it, but why else would I call for him."
"I think the stress of school and college is getting to you. Maybe a visit to Dr. Hopper would be good for you." Her mother suggested as she tucked Emma's loose strands of hair behind her ears.
"I don't need to see Dr. Hopper. It's just a little stress." Emma attempted to reassure her parents. "I just need some sleep and I'll be fine."
"But Emma..."
"Mary Margaret let's let her go back to sleep" David said as he got up and grabbed his wife's hand. "We love you and we'll see you in the morning." He kissed the top his daughter’s head and with his wife in toe left the room.
Emma laid back down and pulled the covers up trying to find sleep again but it was impossible. The dreams, now nightmares, were coming more frequently. She was unable to stop or escape them, and what frightened her the most about them was the familiarity of the images she saw. More and more, the strange, foreign moments of her dream were beginning to feel more like real memories that she’d only forgotten. Knowing that sleep was her enemy Emma got out of bed and walked to her window. The view from her room was the best in the house. Emma could see the ocean and the docks clearly. The scent of sea salt filled her room on the nights that she kept her window open, which was most nights. She loved the scent as it comforted her and reminded her of Killian. Moving her line of sight to the tiny house by the docks that Killian and his brother Liam lived in, she wondered if Killian was awake. Emma wondered if she consumed his thoughts, or if he craved to feel her skin like she did his. Taking deep breathes Emma was hit by a sudden urge to see Killian. Quickly, she turned from the window and grabbed jeans and a t-shirt from the basket of clothing she needed to fold. She doubted Killian would mind seeing her in ducky pj’s but she knew she had to change.
"Where the hell are my keys?" Emma whispered as she searched frantically around her room. "Actually" Remembering the trellis her father had just put on the side of the house for her mother's roses Emma gave up the search for her keys. "Please don't let me kill myself climbing this thing." Emma recited as she climbed out the window and down the trellis.
With a thud Emma's sneakers hit the ground. Before making her way to Killian's, she looked around to make sure her parents hadn't heard her and that there were no late drunks stumbling down her street after a night at the Rabbit Hole who might catch her. In the clear Emma climbed over the tiny white fence and made her way to Killian's house. The streets were quiet and the traffic lights blinked yellow as she briskly walked down them. Storybrooke was eerily quiet, almost if a fairy tale curse had hit the town and she was the only one left. As she neared Neal's house Emma looked up at his room window wanting to make sure that for some odd reason he wasn't standing there waiting to catch her. There appeared to be no movement but a creepy feeling of being watched fell upon her. Emma looked closer at the room’s window but no one was there. Feeling uneasy Emma picked up her pace from a brisk walk to a sprint. The faster she ran the harder it was to shake the feeling that someone had been watching her from the Gold house window. She tried to convince herself it was just the fear of being caught and having to explain where she was going, but deep down she knew that was not the cause of her fear.
Finally reaching Killian's house Emma stopped for a moment to catch her breath but it was pointless. Being there had caused her heart to race and become breathless for a new reason. Taking a deep breath Emma walked to the side of the house and to Killian's window. To her surprise it was open. When she had last seen it from her bedroom window it was shut. Silently she climbed through and into the dark room. A small of amount of moonlight had filled the room but only enough to make out shapes. Unsure of what she was really doing, Emma stood there, half tempted to climb back out the window. While she was contemplating her next move, a hand reached out for her. Any normal person would have screamed or at least jerked their hand away, but not Emma. Familiar with the touch of the callous fingers and the sensation it created on her skin, Emma grabbed on the familiar hand as it pulled her in.
"Shouldn't I be the one climbing through your window?" Killian whispered as he wrapped his arms around her.
"That was last lifetime. This time it's my turn." Emma answered, not knowing what possessed her to hint at the dreams she was having.
"So did this happen often last lifetime?" Killian asked as he moved one hand from her waist to sweep the hair off her neck.
"I would say a few times." Emma's answered. "Sometimes it was just to see me and sometimes other things would happen." Slowly her hands slide up Killian's chest and her fingers tangled into his chest hair.
"Did we enjoy the other things?" Killian breathed out against the skin of her neck before pressing his lips into a pulse point. Emma's skin was hot despite the cold night air.
"Yes" Emma moaned out responding not only to Killian’s question, but his touch on her skin. She didn't realize how much she needed to feel him on her. It wasn't because she needed to know what he felt like but she needed the familiar feeling. The ones of calm and passion she knew from her dreams. It felt strange for Emma to think of it that way but she didn't care.
"Are you here to kidnap me, take me back to your ship so you can ravage me before asking for a handsome ransom from my brother for a safe return?" Killian teased as his lips hovered over hers. The words seemed so familiar to Emma but it felt if she had said them.
"I'm here to ravage you now, Killian." Emma responded after licking her lips. "If you will have me?" Emma added as she stared at Killian's mouth.
Even through the darkness, Emma could see the little smirk Killian had on his face from her words. Next she felt his fingers bunch the hem of her shirt and the bottom of his palms glide over her skin as Killian moved her t shirt off her body. Feeling a cold breeze push through the room, Emma had remembered in her rush she had forgotten to put a bra on. There she stood almost bare in front of Killian. Not once did she think to cover herself up, in her mind Killian had seen her before even if his expression of awe said otherwise.
“You’re…you’re so beautiful Emma.” The words briefly caught in Killian’s throat as his eyes drank in the sight of Emma’s body. The moonlight upon her back created and a glow only reserved for the most admired goddesses.
Gently, Killian’s fingertips moved across the top of Emma’s jeans. He fiddled with the tiny pointed corner of the fly. Killian was excited and scared for what the moment would bring, and he looked into Emma’s eyes for reassurance this is what she wanted as well. With a nod, Emma gave Killian the permission of trespass he sought after. Nimbly Killian undid the button and zipper before using the palms of his hands to slide them past Emma’s hips. Wanting to be a gentleman got on his knees to follow the jeans on their journey to the floor. When they reached their destination, he lifted Emma’s leg to slide the legs off one at time. Emma watched amazed at the amount of care and tenderness Killian was showing her.
Looking up to Emma like a pilgrim worshipping at the feet of his goddess, Killian slid his hands slowly up her thighs prickling her skin and began to remove the simple cotton panties Emma had on. Once removed and feeling worthy of Emma, Killian stood up and once again admired the beauty that stood in front of him. He wanted to speak, tell her how gorgeous she was, but he couldn’t find the words that could express a tenth of what Emma deserved to hear. Instead he took Emma’s hand and placed it on his heavily beating heart. Every thump telling her a new vow and thought. Feeling the emotions course through her body like rough waters, Emma impatiently pushed down Killian’s boxers with her free hand. At that moment Killian was a gift and she needed to tear away at the wrapping to get to the present she had long waited for inside. With the fabric gone and nothing between them, Emma took the lead and moved them to Killian’s tiny twin bed.
“You would have anchors on your comforter.” Emma teased as positioned herself on Killian’s bed. Her eyes wondered around the bed shyly as Killian quickly put on a condom he pulled from his nightstand.
“And I bet you have ducklings on yours.” Killian quipped back as he hovered his body above Emma’s. She could feel his hard cock throbbing against her thigh, begging for entrance inside of her.
“Nope.” Emma breathed out as she lined herself up with Killian. “They are on my pj pants.” And with that Emma grabbed the back of Killian’s head and brought his lips to hers. Hard, she pressed her lips onto his before invading her tongue into his to taste his.
Lost in the passionate kiss, Killian slowly began to enter Emma. With each push further inside Emma, tiny moans escaped her mouth. Wanting to enjoy every moment and not hurt her he took his time to fully finding his way inside her. Emma’s nails dug deeper into his skin the deeper he went. The feeling of pain and pleasure was just too much for her to take and so familiar. Every fiber of her body knew she could handle more because she already had a lifetime ago. Needing all of him, Emma grabbed Killian by the hips and pulled him into her. With that he filled her. Emma’s body raised off the bed for a moment as pleasure seeped into her bones. Seizing the opportunity Killian removed himself from the kiss and placed his lips in the valley between Emma’s breasts. He kissed every inch of her that he could before her body sank back into the bed.
Craving more of the rise of Emma’s body, Killian began to move in and out her. The slickness of her core made it easy for the pace to go from slow and offbeat to perfectly in time with Emma’s own rhythm. Like the bow of the violin moving across the strings, Killian’s cock scrapped against Emma’s inner moans which created the most melodic of sounds as she moaned against his ear. Music so sweet to Killian’s ear he yearned for more. Ever so slightly Killian bent his head and carefully placed kisses along Emma’s neck, collarbone and chest before reaching the perfect peak of her breast. Killian’s mouth covered her nipple as he began to suck on it. The intensity of Emma’s pleasure increased, causing her to wrap her legs around him, to steady his thrust as he focused on her breasts. Not wanting to play favorites, Killian moved to the other nipple and began to repeat his earlier actions. Emma could feel the fire build deep in the pit of her stomach but she wasn’t ready for it to end. They had all night and she intended on using the night.
“I thought I was here to ravage you.” Emma breathless spoke as her tiny frame managed to flip them to where Killian was on his back and she on top.
There was a slight shock and amusement on Killian’s face. “By all means Emma take what you want.” He replied wanting to see what she had in store for him.
At first Emma was uncertain how to move and where to place her hands but as she closed her eyes she remembered the images of her dreams. Leaning forward Emma kissed the crook of Killian’s neck before delicately dragging her teeth across his chest and playfully biting him. A pleasurable hiss escaped Killian’s lips as he grabbed a tight hold of Emma’s hips. Straightening her back, Emma anchored her hands on Killian’s chest and began Killian’s descent into madness. Muscle memory suddenly took over and Emma rocked her hips slowly at first. She could see the pleasure in Killian’s eyes and feel it in his touch as he pressed his fingers harder against her skin. Uncertain of how she remembered this was what drove him crazy, Emma ground herself harder into him. The short strides of her hips grew longer in length with every movement of her hips.
“Emma.” Killian moaned under his breath as he watched Emma.
The sound of her name stumbling out Killian’s mouth ignited the fire building in the pit of her stomach. There was something about the deep raspy sound of his voice that made Emma want to ride him harder to make him speak again. Emma closed her eyes again and thought back to an image she had once seen of her and Killian together. Placing her a hand on each of Killian’s thighs, Emma leaned backwards and arched her back. Again she took her time finding the back and forth rhythm that pleased them both. The feel of Killian’s cock inside her fueled the orgasm that seemed to be instantly building. Emma moved faster and more erratically. Desperately she needed to feel that wave of pleasure come over her body and it was granted to her the moment Killian’s rough thumb feverishly rubbed the tiny bundle of nerves.
“Killian” Emma yelled through her teeth that clamped down on her bottom lip.
Emma’s spent and sweaty body fell forward onto Killian’s chest. The thumping of Killian’s heart pounded in Emma’s ears. Each beat played a familiar lullaby Emma swore she had heard before. She could stay in the moment forever and not care. Killian pressed a kiss into the top of her head and swept strands of hair off her back. His calloused fingertips glided across her skin like the cool breeze Emma had just noticed in the room.
“Don’t think that is the end of it. You still need yours.” Emma said through her wolfish grin as she popped her head off Killian’s chest.
“Oh do I need now love” Killian responded gleefully.
“Yes I need to still ravage you. That was just me teasing you on what I, we can do tonight.” Emma teased as she whispered into Killian’s ear.
“Then by all means my princess ravage me for real this time.” Killian breathe as he flipped Emma on her back.
“I don’t think I can while you’re on top of me.” The words were drizzled with a slight laughter as Emma spoke them.
“Oh what a pity. I may need to ravage you.” There was a lustful tone in Killian’s voice. Emma could feel the hard tip of his cock making its way into her.
“That’s not how….Oh god Killian….this works….yes like that.” Emma stuttered as Killian slide his cock in and out of her.
The pleasure from Killian inside Emma was nothing new in her mind. This was just another encounter to the long list that had already happened. Emma was familiar with the stretch his cock caused while deep inside her and the dragging against her walls when he pulled out slowly to drive her mad. Muscle memory took over and Emma began to dig her nails into the middle of Killian’s back. Just like the countless times in Emma’s dreams, Killian moaned out the words bloody hell. Not knowing whether to laugh or fear the familiarity of it all, Emma bit her bottom lip so she could say nothing. She didn’t want to ruin in the moment or scare Killian with the crazy images of them in an oversized bed and crispy cotton sheets in a distant land swirling through her head as he thrust inside her and filled her with pleasure. Emma moved her hands up into Killian’s hair and entangled her fingers with the hair at the nape of his neck. With a gentle pull she lowered his ear down to her lips.
“You know what I like” Emma whispered into his ear before she could stop herself.
“As the princess commands.” Killian responded firmly to the command.
With his left hand he slid it under Emma’s lower back, slightly raising her ass off the bed. Then his right hand found Emma’s nimble fingers and interwove his with hers. Emma could do nothing more but watch him intently. Somehow Killian remembered the night he snuck into her room, the night she told him to never leave her. An intense urge came over Emma and with all her strength she pushed her body off the bed and slammed her lips into Killian’s. Her tongue not waiting for admission she seized his with her own. Lust and passion filled the kiss as Emma deepened it. There was a fire burning not only in the kiss but in depths of her belly.
“Now harder” Emma demanded and she broke the kiss.
As Emma’s body found the softness of Killian’s bed, like a man worshipping his goddess, Killian did as she wanted. Pulling all but the tip out Killian with a smirk on his face slowly pushed every last inch of his cock into Emma until he could not tell where he ended and she began.
“Is this what you wanted?” Killian asked knowing full well it was.
No more words were exchanged after that moment. Doing as he was told Killian began to thrust into Emma with such a force that his bed began to sift. He was thankful that Liam was not home because he would have surely heard the bed scraping the floor and Emma screaming Killian’s name at the top of her lungs. How he loved hearing her call out for him.
Wanting to hear this name pleasurably screamed from Emma’s mouth, Killian had an idea. Slowly he slid out of Emma and moved further down the bed. Killian caught a glimpse of Emma’s face. There was a mix of confusion and excitement written all over it. Not wanting to give too much away Killian smirked and lowered his mouth onto a different set of lips. Killian wasted no time putting his tongue to good use. First darting his tongue to tickle the small bundle of nerves before pushing his tongue further into her warm center. Like a boy licking frosting off his birthday cake, Killian curled his tongue and lapped the juice that flowed from Emma. Suddenly, he felt a hand gripping at his hair and pulling with slight force. Killian looked up and could see Emma biting her lip so he began to sucking gently on her clit. The simple action made Emma dig her heels into the bed and push Killian’s mouth harder into her. Killian knew if he continued he would make Emma cum into his mouth but it was not what he wanted. Abruptly Killian stopped and with one swift movement of his body, he moved back on top of Emma. Having Emma’s full attention Killian licked his lips and thrust himself back into Emma. Killian could feel Emma’s body ready for its well deserved release and he would give it to her.
Killian slid in and out of Emma, each time a little harder and deeper. The cheap bed moved further away from the wall with every movement. Throbbing inside of Emma as her walls clenched around his cock tighter and tighter, Killian could now feel that at any moment he would burst. Wanting to see Emma’s orgasm, Killian locked eyes with her and pushed his cock inside her in such an angle he was able to reach the spot deep inside her that made her body melt. Within moments Emma arched her back in profound pleasure and screamed Killian’s name into the night air. Following suit he held onto her hip as his own orgasm followed and poured into her.
“I love you Emma Swan.” Killian professed as her collapsed his tired body next to her.
“I love you Killian Jones.” Emma replied trying to catch her breath.
The two lay there in silence trying to breathe and think. Heavy panting echoed the room. Feeling the breeze make its way into the room Killian grabbed the blanket somehow still attached to the end of the bed and pulled it up towards them. Emma snuggled in closer and fit her body into his. Emma knew she could only lay there a few minutes before needing to leave or she would fall asleep and risk both of them getting in trouble. Killian pulled her in closer and pushed the hair off her neck to kiss the tiniest freckle he could spot on her skin. Both could have lived in that bed forever. There would be no worries of family or boyfriends, of crazy dreams and an even crazier reality. Time would stand still for them for just one night if they begged hard enough.
“Never leave me” Emma murmured half asleep.
“Never.” Killian whispered as pulled her tighter.
“I need you, always.” Became Emma’s last words as she drifted off into sleep.
“And I you.” Became Killian’s before he went to meet her in his dreams.
#captain swan#lieutenant duckling#cs fanfic#lieutenant duckling fanfiction#ld ff#emma swan#killian jones#the things i write#thinking out loud
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Wedded Bliss and Asterisks (A Modern CS AU) Part 11/?
Emma Swan is an enemy of love who just happens to be an up and coming wedding dress designer. She’s convinced that a fairytale kind of romance is nowhere in her future but when she meets Killian Jones, whose magazine is covering the opening of her new boutique, things change. Suddenly Emma finds herself drawing up new plans for her life, ones that seem to all be leading towards her own form of wedded bliss. Rated M.
Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven.Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten. Also on FF Here.
A/N: Hey all! This chapter picks up the day after the last installment, and as promised we will have some closure for Snowing, a check in from some characters we haven’t seen in awhile, and then get back to business for CS. For those of you so anxiously awaiting Liam’s return, know that we won’t be getting that interaction until next chapter but I promise it will be worth the wait. Anyway thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!
“I really can’t say enough about how great you all have been. I owe you all so much more than I can ever pay back,” Jasmine professed from the other side of the dressing room door as Emma and the others waited for her big reveal.
The dress that Emma had designed and given to Jasmine was finally completed after weeks of work and a rush order that came with a hefty price tag, but when Emma saw the finished product for the first time she knew it would be spectacular. She could already imagine it on Jasmine and was envisioning the moment when Jasmine would walk down the aisle to her man and make him so incredibly happy.
Aladdin had visited with Jasmine a few times at Bliss since they took her on as a client, but he never came on an outing when the dress was in question. Instead he saved his trips here for days when seating arrangements were designed with Mary Margaret or when Elsa was finalizing her vision for the wedding cake. He was funny and likeable, and just like Jasmine said, he seemed to roll with anything. No question was too inconsequential or too overwhelming. He was laid back, and watching him calm Jasmine into a similar state was always nice. The peace they had together was matched only by the fire that simmered underneath the surface.
“Oh honey you paid us plenty, trust me,” Ruby joked and everyone chuckled, but at that moment Jasmine stepped out into the showroom and shook her head.
“I really don’t think I did. Not for a dress like this.”
Everyone stood there totally awed of how it all turned out, and Emma had to admit she was damn proud of her work. A dress like this was no where near ordinary, and though she’d created some beautiful designs before, this one was definitely special thanks in no small part to the bride wearing it. Jasmine’s excitement was uncontainable and that excitement on her face and that sense of enthusiasm couldn’t be replicated. She looked radiant and ready to be married, and come this weekend she’d get the chance to do just that.
But even in that magical moment, when a bride Emma had come to truly like found the satisfaction that only a magnificent wedding dress could bring, a niggling thought played at the back of Emma’s mind: This might be an amazing gown and a one of a kind piece that Emma would long be proud of, but it still wasn’t one that spoke to Emma’s true heart. That dress, the one that Emma looked at and saw every good thing made real in, remained tucked in a drawer in Emma’s office where she took it out every once and a while, thinking about how it had once been lost and then later found by the only man Emma had ever been able to imagine a future with.
“So what do you guys think?” Jasmine asked, pulling Emma back into the present. Jasmine needn’t have asked though, since the answer to that query was fairly obvious.
“I think I speak for all of us when I say that you look fantastic,” Tiana said, breaking through everyone’s silence with a thought they all readily attested to.
“Oh my god, totally!” Elsa agreed.
“This is really beautiful work, Ems. Truly fantastic,” Ruby replied and Emma smiled before a sniffle infiltrated into the room. Without even looking Emma knew it would be Mary Margaret, but one glance in her friend’s direction proved her right.
“That reaction from Mary Margaret is the best thing you could hope for,” Emma said and Jasmine smiled. “Seriously, Jasmine, it’s perfect and I don’t use that phrase lightly.”
“She really doesn’t,” Tiana confirmed. “With Emma there’s always one last adjustment or one final piece to tinker with.”
“Not this time. This time I got it right on the first try,” Emma affirmed and Jasmine twirled around to the mirror once more to take herself in.
“He’s going to lose it isn’t he?” Jasmine asked, and everyone in the room knew that she meant Aladdin.
“Yes,” they all responded in unison and Jasmine laughed, running her hand down the fine detailing once more before turning back to Emma.
“Part of me wishes I could just wear it home.”
Emma had heard that from a number of her brides in the past. She wouldn’t know that feeling first hand – truth be told she’d never so much as tried on a wedding gown herself despite her proximity to them – but she felt the compliment of such intense affection for an object she created deep in her soul. This validation was uplifting, but now Emma had to remind Jasmine that she was edging closer to the final destination, and that even if waiting was the last thing she wanted to do, it was necessary to get to that day they’d all worked so hard for.
“You say that now, but dry cleaning this thing is a nightmare,” Emma joked and Jasmine laughed again, moving off the little stage and back to the dressing room, but just when she was about to go inside, the energy in the room dramatically changed thanks to a new arrival in the store that no one was expecting.
“Mary Margaret?”
The call for her friend’s attention came from David, and immediately all other sound in the room faded. It had been less than twenty-four hours, but by now every employee in the whole shop knew about yesterday’s interaction. Though they’d hired good people who were kind and considerate, Emma knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that speculation about who David was and why all that drama had happened in the first place was circulating. To see him now, bearing a bouquet of crisp white roses and a look like he’d just fought through hell itself to get here, Emma had to admit that she felt for the man.
“David,” Mary Margaret’s voice said with more strength than Emma anticipated. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m doing something I should have done a long time ago – I’m winning you over. I’m making things right and I’m telling you that I love you, Mary Margaret. I’ve loved you for a long time and nothing is every going to change that.”
The silence in the room was deafening, and Emma debated either maneuvering Mary Margaret and David back to her office or leading everyone else out of this dressing room, but both Mary Margaret and David were too caught in the moment to give a damn. David was desperate for Mary Margaret to see his truth, and Mary Margaret was firm in her memories of where it had all gone wrong. The end result was the two of them sharing a whole lot more than Emma would have bargained for in front all of Mary Margaret’s friends and Jasmine.
“But you don’t, not really. If you did, you never would have chosen her.” The gravity of Mary Margaret’s statement portrayed courage Emma knew her friend was not feeling. Since the display yesterday, Mary Margaret had been a walking bundle of nerves, but right now she appeared so much more contained and controlled than Emma thought any one person could be.
“I never chose her. I’m choosing you. It’s always been you, Mary Margaret. Always.”
This would usually be the moment when Emma’s warning bells would sound if David were lying, but there was nothing like skepticism to be found in her heart. Instead Emma watched as this man she’d only known in passing set forth to lay everything on the line with her best friend. He was a man with a purpose who felt passionately and who was speaking from his heart. It was the only reason Emma even let this all continue. One hint of David having false motives and she would shove him out the door and tell him to get lost.
“Even if that were true, you have to see how bad this looks David. Breaking up your engagement? If word of that got out it could ruin this business. Can’t you see that?” Mary Margaret looked away from him for the first time, but her eyes moved to the floor and not to anyone around them.
“There was no engagement to break up, and I think you know that deep down.”
David pulled out a box from his pocket that Emma immediately noted was the perfect size for a ring. He didn’t open it, but Mary Margaret seemed to recognize the container and hope returned to her features again, letting Emma release a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
“I told you once that the woman I married would wear my mother’s ring and I meant it, but Kathryn will never be that woman. She was wearing her grandmother’s diamond yesterday. It was all just a ploy to get a rise out of me, to what ends I don’t know.”
“Don’t you?” Mary Margaret asked quietly. “She loves you, David, and you love her – or loved her I guess - enough to be planning a future seriously with her.”
“I never planned for anything like what I really wanted with Kathryn. With her it was all arranged, a duty to my family. Every truly happy ending I could hope for needed one thing – you. No matter what she did, Kathryn couldn’t compare to you,” David confessed.
“That’s not what you said that night in the park.”
The park? Emma thought to herself, but she assumed that it must be a part of what went wrong all those years ago. The only park she knew of had been just outside of campus, and from what she recalled Mary Margaret and David had gone there sometimes to study.
“You mean about stringing you along as a kind of game?” David asked and Emma bit back a wince. That sounded rough, but before she could delve too deep into what Mary Margaret must have been feeling, David had an answer. “That wasn’t me. You have to believe that.”
“It was you, David. I saw you. Not only did I have to live through the moment of hearing you say all those terrible things, then I saw you with her… celebrating in it all, making a joke out of me and what I thought we had.”
Emma took a step towards her friend at the same time that Ruby and Elsa did. It was an instinctive move to protect Mary Margaret, but they were all halted by David’s earnest reply.
“You didn’t see me that night. You saw James.”
The look of shock on Mary Margaret’s face and the subsequent realization that their friend seemed to go through prompted Emma to share a look with Ruby and Elsa. Who the hell was James? And why hadn’t Mary Margaret let them kick Kathryn’s ass yesterday? Clearly she was the ‘she’ involved in all of this, and Kathryn needed a serious reality check about how to treat people.
“Your brother? But you said he was in Europe and that you’re father had cut him off and kicked him out for good. How did he…?”
Mary Margaret trailed off as David stepped closer to her, his eyes never straying for a second, and everyone else was completely ignored. Meanwhile Emma stood there almost laughing out loud. It was hardly a funny situation, but there was a certain kind of ludicrousness that came with a supposed familial misunderstanding like this. For Mary Margaret to be convinced that it was David all these years, they must look and sound very similar. Maybe they were even twins. This twist was straight out of a soap opera. Evil twins? Those couldn’t be real could they? Yet there was nothing resembling a lie anywhere on David’s person.
“Apparently all it took to seal the breach between my father and brother was the promise of making me miserable,” David explained.
“I don’t understand,” Mary Margaret said and David took a step closer again, his hand clutching Mary Margaret’s in his. Emma noticed that her friend didn’t pull back in the slightest and she knew then that all was going to be forgiven. Maybe not right this minute, but Mary Margaret was already starting to make peace with her mistake back then and now David had an opening to make good on the claims he’d walked in here with.
“A few days before that night in the park I broke it off with Kathryn for good. I told her that I didn’t care about what the expectations were or who our families were to each other. I was following my heart to you, and I told her that I hoped she could find someone who made her feel everything that you brought into my life. Even now, having not seen you in years, I still have that feeling like this is all that matters. You’re all that matters.”
“David,” The emotion of all of this started hitting Mary Margaret hard and David made quick work of tossing the flowers onto a nearby chair and wiping away her tears before continuing on.
“But instead of accepting things, Kathryn went to my father who reasoned that sacrificing your and my happiness was a small price for his idealized business plans. He got James on a plane and set the whole thing up, and I didn’t know until yesterday when I demanded the truth from him. I broke ties with Kathryn for good years ago, so my father knows that there is no longer any hope of a merger between us and he finally gave it up after enough prodding. I had no idea that they were going to set us up like that. I can only imagine what you must have thought and how it must have hurt. I know it killed me a thousand times over to have you walk away.”
“I’m sorry. David I’m so sorry.” Mary Margaret barely got out the words before her voice broke, but David rose to fill the silence, holding her closer as she stroked his cheek.
“There’s no way you could have known, Mary Margaret, but I should have. I saw James the next night. I knew he was in town but I never connected the dots. All this time we could have had was wasted, and it’s because of me, because of my family. Because I couldn’t believe the worst in three people who had shown me their true colors a long time ago.”
After all of these confessions, Emma felt a host of vicarious emotions. It was heartbreaking to think of all the time that had gone by, all the years that Emma had watched her friend try and move on, never finding someone who fit for her like David had. Now they were on their way to getting another chance, but they were still on shaky ground, either heading towards two mutual professions of caring for each other, or setting down definitively different paths. Emma hoped for her friend’s sake that Mary Margaret chose the first option, because Emma knew first hand how much better the world was when love was present.
“I’m not proud of the way I acted back then, Mary Margaret. It should never have been an issue. I should never have waited as long as I did to step up and be the man you deserved. But whether you meant to or not, you undid a lifetime’s worth of learning. You taught me that love is something I can afford, no matter the price. Now all I ask if that you look into your heart and honestly tell me if that love could ever be returned. If not, I’ll walk away. I’ll leave you to whatever it is that can make you happy. But if there’s a chance, even the slightest one, that you love me too, then I’ll never stop trying to show you that I can be the man you believedin all those years ago.”
A beat of anticipation past before Mary Margaret was in motion and pulling David down for a kiss Emma was sure was sweet for the both of them. Given everything, Emma assumed it would be their first one, but her gut was already telling her that though it might be the first, it would be one of many. Emma recognized the pulsing connection between Mary Margaret and David after all, and she hoped that the love they’d formed all those years got the chance to grow and evolve as it should have back then.
“So I’ll take that as a yes?” David asked when they pulled back and before Mary Margaret could respond, Ruby gave her two cents.
“Honey, you can take that as a hell yes! Sane women don’t turn down big gestures like the one you just made.”
For the first time Mary Margaret seemed to notice how public this reunion had just been and her cheeks stained deep red in a blush. Emma could relate to that though, for there had been more than a few instances where Killian brought that same level of distraction to her life. Without replying to Ruby, however, Mary Margaret confirmed the sentiment.
“I can’t believe this is real, but yes. We have a lot to figure out, but I do want that chance with you, David. I want to hope with you again. I went too long without it and without you.”
The pure joy on both Mary Margaret and David’s faces in that moment was impossible to ignore, and their happiness lit up the whole room. It was a beautiful thing to see, but when it looked like they were about to do more in terms of reuniting, Emma cleared her throat, pulling Mary Margaret’s attention her way.
“Maybe you guys want to take this somewhere a little more private?” Emma offered.
“Unless you’re cool with giving Ruby even more ammo than you already have,” Elsa said, backing Emma up.
“Hey! I take offense to that. Besides, Mary Margaret’s done for the day, so she can have all the privacy she needs.” That fact from Ruby seemed to surprise their pixie-haired friend.
“Done? But what about the three appointments I have this afternoon?”
“What can I say? I’m a great multi-tasker. I moved some things around for you because you’re otherwise engaged,” Ruby said shaking her phone and sending a wink to David who looked back to Mary Margaret with a big grin of his own.
“Well in that case maybe we could get to that discussion you were talking about.”
“Amongst other things,” Ruby quipped, and everyone turned their eyes to her. “What?”
“Let them have their moment, Ruby! Jeez,” Jasmine said, prompting a smile from Emma. Jasmine might be a new acquaintance, but she certainly fit into the fabric of this friendship and this moment over all.
“Alright I think that’s our cue to leave,” Mary Margaret said, taking David’s hand and accepting the flowers he retrieved once more from the chair. “See you all tomorrow.”
With that, the friends watched Mary Margaret and David depart, and once the door was closed behind them everyone broke out into a frenzy of conversation.
“Can you believe that just happened?!” Elsa asked and Jasmine shook her head.
“That was like a movie. I didn’t even realize moments like that existed,” she said.
“They do here,” Ruby responded before pointing Emma’s way. “And it all started with her.”
“Me?” Emma asked, surprised.
“Yes you. Did you think you falling in love wasn’t going to have an effect on all of us? When the cynical guarded friend finds her ‘one,’ it’s kind of a sign to the Universe to get it together for everyone else,” Ruby explained as if her logic was unimpeachable.
“So who’s next? You and Graham? Or has Elsa met someone I am unaware of?” Emma joked.
“Tragically no,” Elsa said, still looking a little dreamy eyed after all the love that had been on display just moments ago with their other friend. “But I’m comfortable being the one single friend if it comes to that. I’ll just rescue a lot of animals and bake cakes until I’m old and gray, treating all your grandchildren as if they were my own.”
Emma laughed at Elsa’s visions of her future as Ruby scoffed and rolled her eyes. She immediately waved away the thought of any such reality for Elsa.
“It’s only a matter of time. I’m telling you, I can feel it. Love is in the air,” Ruby professed.
“And that love you’re feeling has nothing to do with the fact that we work in this industry and get people hitched for a living?” Emma retorted.
“That’s purely coincidental,” Ruby said with a grin before turning back to Jasmine and leading the soon to be bride through some other last minute things she’d have to consider for the wedding this weekend. Emma took that as her sign that she was no longer needed, and when Jasmine had successfully changed, and Emma oversaw her dress being returned to where it needed to be, an idea came to her.
“I think I’m going to go out for lunch today,” Emma said to Tiana as she grabbed her jacket and her purse from her office. “I shouldn’t be gone too long. Just over an hour or so. Could you -,”
“Run things until you get back? In my sleep. You have fun and say hi to Killian for me,” Tiana said throwing Emma a knowing smile.
“I didn’t – oh forget it.”
Emma didn’t bother denying what her friend already knew and Tiana laughed, giving Emma one last goodbye before she headed out to see the one guy she wanted to chose, and the one who made her believe in second chances and potential happily ever afters. She just had one last thing to do to make sure all systems were a go. Emma pulled out her phone and dialed the necessary number as she walked out the front door.
“Hey Tink it’s me. Can I ask you for a favor...?”
……………..
As Killian arrived back from a meeting across the floor, he couldn’t keep the smile off of his face. Even though it had been a routine breakdown of advertising revenue, the meeting had him in a good mood. Profits were up and advertisers were bidding at higher intervals for spots in the magazine, but even that good news couldn’t take full credit for the grin across his face. No, that went to Emma and the parting words she’d left him with on the train today:
“Have a good day, dear,” she’d teased, but Killian felt that endearment down to his bones. It was a snippet of what life could be with Emma if given the chance, where they were more to each other than just boyfriend and girlfriend. God how Killian wanted that, but for now Emma’s light heartedness and easy flirtations were enough to make him feel like the luckiest man alive.
As he got closer to his office, Killian noticed that Tink was sitting at her desk with a big smile on her face. It seemed his happiness was going around today, and he stalled at her desk listening to her finish up the conversation that had brightened her mood.
“Okay great. See you soon!” Tink said before hanging up and then jumping when she noticed him. Well this was interesting – no one was ever able to sneak up on Tink. Something must be up.
“Someone special on the other end of that call?” Killian asked his assistant and the small woman smirked.
“Oh yeah. But don’t you have a letter to get to work on, Captain Nosey?” Tink said, straightening up in her chair and giving him a stern look before pointing to his office door.
“Aye I do. Thanks for the reminder.”
“That’s what I’m here for,” Tink replied as Killian laughed. He moved into his office at a leisurely pace and laid his jacket on the back of one of the chairs, not caring to put it away.
He knew that he should get to work now on the letter from the editor that would be needed for the next issue of Citizen NY, but Killian had other thoughts swimming around in his brain, ones that involved a certain blonde temptress whose smiles lit up his whole world. Sitting back behind his desk, Killian didn’t bother pretending to draft his necessary piece and instead he put his hands behind his head and closed his eyes, thinking of the look of amusement on Emma’s face when he’d asked to see her tonight during their commute this morning. They were in a routine of seeing each other very often but he couldn’t assume that she would give him so much of her time. Emma meanwhile found it comical that he wasn’t already prepping a date, but she readily agreed, sealing it as a fantastic day in Killian’s book no matter what was coming down the pike.
A knock sounded through the room a moment later, interrupting Killian’s happy thoughts of Emma and his largely ignoring his work responsibilities. He looked up and found Will with a parcel in his hand. His friend studied Killian critically, but instead of making a joke about the state he’d found him in as Killian might expect, Will attempted a sorry excuse for a smile.
“Here’s that packet you wanted from the graphics department.”
Will tossed the materials onto Killian’s desk with more force than was needed, and the usually prevalent smirk on his friend’s face was nowhere to be seen. Killian sat up straighter, reaching out for the papers as his eyes stayed on his friend.
“Everything alright there, Scarlet?” Killian asked as Will grunted.
“Fine.” That hardly sounded reassuring.
“You sure about that?” Killian asked, taking note of Will’s clenched jaw and fists. When he looked back to Will’s eyes, Will caved and sat down in the seat across from him, exhaling a breath.
“No I’m not fucking sure. Actually I am – I’m certain that I’m a right idiot.” Well that had escalated quickly.
“What happened?” Killian asked.
“It’s more like what didn’t happen, mate.” Killian mulled the cryptic statement over for a minute and then it dawned on him.
“Does this have anything to do with a particularly bright reporter you’ve been avoiding seeing socially?” Killian nudged Will into the right direction, but his friend only put his face in his hands as his elbows rested on his knees.
“She’s found someone else,” Will mumbled.
“Beg your pardon?” Killian asked, convinced he hadn’t heard him correctly.
“She’s taken, mate! She’s spoken for! She’s invested elsewhere! How else can I say it?” Killian looked from Will to the door, glad to see his friend had closed it upon entering. Otherwise the whole office would have just heard that.
“Since when?” Killian asked, assured that if Belle was serious about someone the subject would have come up at some point.
“I don’t bloody know. Harrison asked her out for drinks yesterday and she told him she’s already seeing someone. I just overheard in the break room and I don’t know what to make of it. How did this happen?”
Silence descended between Killian and Will as Killian considered what Will had just imparted to him, but it was clear that he viewed the situation entirely different than his friend did. Harrison was a fine enough man, but there was nothing like chemistry between him and Belle, and Killian would guess that Belle might say something like that to let a man down easy. Until they heard it from the source herself, there should be no assumption of this being true.
“I ruined this, mate. I ruined things before they even had the chance to begin,” Will said in a defeated tone. Killian, meanwhile, couldn’t stand to see his friend this way.
“The way I see it you have two choices: walk away and live with the regret…”
“Or?” Will asked hesitatingly after Killian’s short pause.
“Or you fight for her. You tell Belle how you feel, you lay your cards out there, and you let her make a decision.”
“Are you mad?! And what if she is taken?! What if I make a mess of everything? It’d be awkward. It would starve away the little bit we do have together now.”
Killian knew it sounded crazy, and he recalled the way it had been with him when he was trying to approach Emma. The situations were different of course, but the core problem was the same: Will was too wrapped up in his own thoughts just as Killian had been, and if he hadn’t gotten his head out of his ass long enough to say hello and ask Emma for a date, Killian would have missed out on the best thing that had ever happened to him.
“Is this what you want Will? Are you satisfied with settling for a life as just her friend, nay her work acquaintance even? Because if you are then let things stand. Walk away, wash your hands of it, learn to move on. But if you’re looking for more and if you see a future with her you have to go for it, mate. You can’t just wait around expecting her to come to you.”
Will let the words hang there for a while, mulling them over and deciding what to do. Killian worried for a moment that his friend would choose the coward’s way out, and he didn’t want that for him. Will deserved to know one way or another, and Killian did believe in his heart that there was something more than friendly admiration between Belle and Will. But there was only so much that Killian could do. The choice had to be Will’s, because one way or another Will was the one who would deal with the consequences.
“As usual you’re right, but that doesn’t mean I bloody like it,” Will said standing up and wiping his hands on his slacks. “No one ever tells you it’s gonna be like this either. Everyone makes love seem a big mushy, easy thing. But this…”
“Is barely restrained chaos, aye. It gets better, mate. If she gives you the chance to make it real, it transcends everything else and anything is worth it.” At least it was when it came to him and Emma.
“If I were less self-involved I’d probably dissect everything you just gave away about you and your girl, but that’ll have to wait. If I don’t go now I’ll lose my nerve,” Will claimed uneasily.
“Now?” Killian asked, surprised that his friend would make a move like this during work hours, but before Will could start reevaluating and spiraling again Killian offered a smile and a final wish. “Well good luck. She’d be a fool not to choose you.”
“Here’s hoping,” Will said taking leave of the room and leaving Killian alone once more.
There was about a thirty second window where Killian attempted to study some of those graphics Will had brought, but then interruption came calling again in the form of another knock at the doorway. Not that Killian minded. He still wasn’t presently capable of focusing as he should.
“Change your mind so soon?” Killian asked but as his eyes moved up he found it wasn’t Will at all, but the woman who’d been on Killian’s mind since leaving her this morning. Emma was here, and instantly Killian stood up to greet her.
“I did actually. Lunch alone just wasn’t working with me today, so I thought I’d stop by, unless you’re busy…” Emma said, holding up a bag of food that she’d brought along.
“I’m never too busy for you, Emma.”
“Tink said the same thing when I called. Apparently I take easy priority over skype sessions with your LA affiliates.”
The final pieces clicked into place for Killian as he realized why Tink had acted so peculiarly before. He appreciated his assistant’s discretion though, for this was a lovely surprise and he made a mental note to thank her sincerely later.
“That’s putting it lightly,” Killian agreed and Emma chuckled to herself as he pulled her in for a kiss. God it felt good to have her here, and Killian was more than thrilled for whatever had happened in the world that led Emma to him right now.
The gleam in Emma’s eyes when they separated from the kiss, still a breath away from each other and both clearly wanting more, made Killian wonder exactly what had brought her here today. There were gears turning in that beautiful brain of hers and though Killian didn’t expect any ulterior motives on Emma’s part, there was definitely something on her mind. Yet Killian didn’t have to ask about it. Instead Emma freely said what she wanted to say.
“I just wanted to say for the record that I’m choosing you and this relationship, and that I’m really glad you broke the ice that first day. If you hadn’t…” Emma looked away and Killian tilted her face back up to look at him. He didn’t understand exactly what prompted her words, but the sentiment was one he wanted to immediately address.
“There was no choice to make, Emma. Some things you just know, and I knew I needed you in my life.”
Killian also knew even then that he loved her, or that he could love her very soon. It was the easiest thing to do in Killian’s opinion, as if he’d been born specifically for the task of giving his heart to one Emma Swan. Nothing felt as right as giving her everything he had, and no dream could outshine his one to always be with her. It had happened quickly to be sure, but some loves were like that. They started at first glance and evolved into something all the greater, and that, Killian believed, was what he’d found with Emma: a love that grew to so much more when given the opportunity to do so.
The confessions on both of their parts sparked another kiss, and the food was long forgotten. All Killian could comprehend was Emma. The way she gave herself so willingly, the way she was investing in him and their relationship together. It was incredible, and yet it was only the surface of what made Emma so miraculous. She was so complex and dynamic, a person he still didn’t fully know, but who he wanted to spend a lifetime trying to understand.
“You know the last time I was here I had this thought,” Emma whispered when she pulled back too soon for his liking. Her eyes stayed on his lips, her smile curving upwards. “I was thinking that your office has a lot more privacy than mine does and as such it lends more options for how to spend a lunch hour.”
The seductive tone of Emma’s voice and her hand on his chest teasing ever so slowly downward made Killian gulp harshly. He knew exactly what she was hinting at, and he’d never been even remotely tempted to steal such an interlude in his office. This was where he worked, and for his whole life up to now he had kept his romantic life as far from here as he could, but with Emma things were different. The idea of spending however much time they had here chasing some sort of pleasure made his heart pump loudly and his veins fill with a rush of adrenaline.
“And did these thoughts of yours have any more specificity, Swan?” Killian asked, his voice gruff and gravely. He hardly recognized the tone, but damn he loved the way Emma flushed at hearing it. She played the seductress so well, but she was just as far gone as he was and that was an aphrodisiac in itself.
“Some. But I’m always open to suggestions,” she replied breathily and Killian sought to take advantage of her current state.
“Lock the door, love.”
The fire in Emma’s eyes at the command made her all the more beautiful, but she heeded the request, getting up and swaying her hips with a bit more flair than usual as she walked to fulfill his request. When she turned around, her sinful smile had returned and Killian felt his hands clench into fists as an active attempt to not just grab her right now. Instead he waited until she was back with him before wrapping his arms around her.
“Now what?” Emma asked.
“Now you decide, Swan. Should I ravish you on the desk or the couch?” Emma blushed at the words, but her eyes never waivered, staying trained on his before she replied.
“Desk. Definitely desk.” The way she said the words made Killian groan. There was no doubt Emma had thought of this before, and he certainly had lost his train of thought more than once imaging such a moment as this.
With time not on their side, Killian had to fight with himself. His usual instinct when it came to Emma was to savor every moment and to elicit every last drop of pleasure that he could from her. It came back to the idea of proving himself worthy and showing her how good he could always make her feel. That he found his own immense satisfaction from satisfying her was a mere bonus. Typically his one-track mind was dedicated only to seeing her content.
Now though there wasn’t every option under the sun available to him. He couldn’t tease her like he wanted, or bring her to the brink and then pull back so as to elongate her eventual climax. No, this needed careful consideration and it would test the mastery he’d accumulated over the past few weeks of what Emma craved and what she most desired. The thought of needing to get creative made him impossibly harder.
“I should have told you when you walked in that you look beautiful today, Emma,” Killian murmured when she was perched atop his desk, her legs spread wider so he could stand between them. The hem of her black dress inched higher than was decent, but in here no one would see aside from him. He loved thinking that she was all his, and a possessiveness that he’d never had before her settled over him. Emma was his, and he would spend every last bit of energy in him to show her he was worth putting her faith in and choosing in return.
“You did tell me this morning remember?” Emma teased, her eyes searching his and then dropping back down to his mouth again, her tongue poking out to wet her lips and drive him mad. His hands on her hips tightened until one moved down to the soft skin of her thigh.
“Once isn’t enough, love. You should know it every second of every day,” he professed.
“That might get a little tedious,” Emma said, a sharp sound of need tailing the last syllable and causing Killian to smile wider. Just as he expected she was ready for him already. One graze of his fingers against the lace that covered her sex and he was certain.
“Ah, but the way I’d tell you isn’t with mere words,” Killian said as he delicately removed the fabric that separated them, taunting her a little more in the process before putting the scrap of lace in his pocket. “I think we’d both rather enjoy my showing you just how enamored I am with you more than simply saying it.”
Emma made a sound of agreement that turned into a quiet moan when he knelt before her. She no doubt knew of his intentions in that moment and though she shook her head and protested that they didn’t have time, her body arched towards him, pleading for the attention he was about to bestow.
“Just a taste now, Swan. Enough to drive you to the edge before I take you fully.”
Emma looked liable to speak again but she didn’t get the chance when Killian had her where he wanted her, perched at the edge of the table and opened to him completely. He didn’t tease in the slightest, but made love to her sex with his mouth, reveling in each frustrated sound Emma made. Her need to keep quiet was no doubt burdensome for her, but Killian knew a thing or too about disappointment. He wanted more than anything to take Emma over the edge like this. He knew exactly the series of licks and sucks he’d need to give her that completion but he pulled back and stood up again right when she was about to come, the taste of her arousal still sweet on his tongue.
Understanding his thoughts on what would happen next, Emma moved up and made quick work of undoing his pants, pushing them down far enough so he was free to take her as he wanted. With one quick thrust, they were both of them groaning, but they covered the sounds with a hungry kiss that was hard and demanding. The thought that this was dangerous was never far from Killian’s thoughts, and honestly it was the only thing keeping him in check at all. But soon enough Emma was crashing into her orgasm and taking him with him as she pulsed against him, and the release was just as satisfying as all the one’s Emma had granted him in the past few weeks.
“I think I can safely say that this has been the best lunch break ever,” Emma said, when she caught her breath again, her forehead resting against Killian’s and her eyes lazily opening and displaying every last bit of the pleasure she’d just found. He wanted to take her all over again when she looked like this, sated and happy and infatuated with him.
“And it’s not over. Not just yet anyway.” They still had a bit of time left, and Killian fully intended to make use of it.
The two of them cleaned up and got themselves situated, moving to the couch to eat their lunch, and though it was a bit more rushed because of their other chosen activities, Killian cherished every second that they had together. They sat close, sharing the two items Emma had procured for them with a familiarity that spoke to far more time shared between them than they’d actually had. Killian found himself wanting more afternoons like this and he was willing to procure them from Emma through whatever means necessary, but he held back on making that request as he learned about her day. He listened as she broke down the scene from Bliss earlier this afternoon that had prompted her visit, and he felt himself truly happy for Emma and her friend.
“So they found each other again in the end,” Killian acknowledged, watching Emma’s smile appear as he made the claim.
“Yeah they did,” she confirmed, intertwining her fingers with his in a quiet show of togetherness.
“Promise me something, Emma.” Emma looked back to him and took in his earnest plea. “Promise me that you won’t run if ever there’s some sort of misunderstanding. I would never hurt you, love, and the thought that you would think so…” Killian couldn’t bare to put those thoughts to words.
“I’m not going anywhere, Killian. I know what kind of man you are and I know that I can trust you.” Killian would be hard pressed to think of sweeter words that his ears had ever heard.
“That you can, love. That you can.”
They shared one last kiss before Emma took note of the clock along the wall and realized she had to get going, but saying goodbye was difficult for Killian, even if today’s visit had never been planned in the first place. Nevertheless he sent Emma off with a vow to see her later and as he watched her go, offering a friendly goodbye to Tink and some of the other staff around the floor on her way to the elevator, Killian felt himself falling a little more under the spell of this woman who brought so much magic to his life just by being herself.
Post-Note: I am leaving this chapter here hoping that you guys take as much enjoyment from all the fluff as I did. I know some of you might be thinking that there wasn’t as much direct CS engagement as you might like, but don’t fret. Next week and all the subsequent chapters there will be much more. As I said earlier, next chapter also brings Liam’s arrival (and some more intrigue on that front) and I can hardly wait. Anyway thank you all so much for reading and I hope you have a lovely rest of your day!
#captain swan#captain swan au#cs modern au#cs fic#cs ff#cs au#capain swan fic#captain swan ff#cs fluff#cs smut#emma swan#killian jones#mary margaret blanchard#david nolan#ruby lucas#elsa#tiana#will scarlet#tink#snowing reunions#general feels fest#ouat au#wedded bliss and asterisks#wedded bliss au#wedded bliss 11
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