#and Neal's… both not used to facing consequences and not used to other people facing his consequences

[creatiview]

Democrats in Congress released six years of Donald Trump’s tax records to the public on Friday, disclosing documents the former president long sought to keep secret and dealing another setback as he again seeks the White House in 2024. A Democratic-controlled U.S. House of Representatives committee released Trump’s redacted returns for 2015 through 2020, capping a multi-year battle between the Republican former president and Democratic lawmakers that was settled only last month by the U.S. Supreme Court. Aside from the returns themselves, the release did not contain much new. In response, Trump warned of dire consequences and used the occasion to seek campaign donations. Trump’s tax data will now be available for in-depth investigations by journalists, independent tax experts and others during the run-up to the 2024 presidential election, and could shed light on Trump’s wealth, his businesses’ performance and how he reduced his tax liability. The nearly 6,000 pages of records include over 2,700 pages of personal returns from Trump and his wife Melania Trump, plus more than 3,000 pages of returns from his businesses. The records show that Trump’s income and tax liability fluctuated dramatically from 2015 through 2020, during his first presidential bid and subsequent term in office. He and his wife claimed large deductions and losses, and paid little or no income tax in several of those years. Trump, a businessman who held public office for the first time when he entered the White House in 2017, was the first presidential candidate in decades not to release his tax returns. He sued the committee to try to keep them private but the U.S. high court ruled in the committee’s favor. In findings disclosed last week, the committee said the tax-collecting Internal Revenue Service broke its own rules by not auditing Trump for three out of four years while he was president “Our findings turned out to be simple — IRS did not begin their mandatory audit of the former president until I made my initial request,” House Ways and Means Committee Chairman Richard Neal said in a statement. Neal first requested the returns in 2019, arguing that Congress needed them to determine if legislation on presidential tax returns was warranted. It was the latest blow for Trump, 76, who was impeached twice by the Democratic-led House only to be acquitted both times by the U.S. Senate and now faces multiple legal woes as he mounts a 2024 reelection bid. Earlier this month, the House committee investigating the Jan. 6, 2021, attack on the U.S. Capitol by his supporters asked federal prosecutors to charge him with four crimes including obstruction and insurrection for his role in the deadly riot. TRUMP RESPONDS In a statement, Trump said: “The Democrats should have never done it, the Supreme Court should have never approved it, and it’s going to lead to horrible things for so many people.” “The great USA divide will now grow far worse. The Radical Left Democrats have weaponized everything, but remember, that is a dangerous two-way street!” he said. Representative Kevin Brady, the House panel’s top Republican, warned that future committee chairmen will have “nearly unlimited” power to make public the tax returns of private citizens, including “political enemies”. “This is a regrettable stain on the Ways and Means Committee and Congress and will make American politics even more divisive and disheartening. In the long run, Democrats will come to regret it,” Brady said in a statement. Details previously released by the panel showed Trump paid no income tax in 2020, his final full year in office, despite millions of dollars in earnings from his sprawling business empire. Democrats were on a tight timeline to find a way to handle the returns once they obtained them, given that Republicans will take control of the House on Tuesday after winning a slim majority in November’s midterm elections. The Democratic-controlled House passed a bill before it left on its winter recess

that would mandate the tax-collecting Internal Revenue Service to complete audits of presidents’ tax filings within 90 days of their inaugurations.

[firebirdsdaughter]

Before I go to bed too late…

… On the rerewatch, I wish Sara had had to learn about El being kidnapped. Bc if I’m gonna throw Neal under the ‘should have said something to Peter’ bus, I gotta throw her under as well, no special treatment. This is a massive case of young(er, in Mozzie’s case) people not considering the consequences of their actions. Despite the fact that Keller had Peter kidnapped, apparently no one considers he might target the Burkes again. ‘Ooooo he talked to Sara’ are you forgetting he’s well aware that the Burkes are your parents. Keller won’t try to touch Sara, she’ll beat his ass, but it’s easier to go after a civilian. Like this is literally no one considering the stress and harm they are causing the parents. Mozzie and Neal are being self centred, Sara, I don’t know, gets caught up in the romantics?

A running theme w/ Neal is that he rarely considers how his behaviour will effect those around him, and I feel like it’s esp clear w/ Peter and El. Maybe it’s the little kid in him, but he seems to take them for granted, likely not helped by Peter’s dedication to him and ability to manifest whenever he’s in trouble. Neal doesn’t think about Peter and El getting blow back from his shit and esp doesn’t register the danger he causes them early on—when something happens, he’ll come through, but he just… Doesn’t seem to take them into account sometimes and, like I said, not just on the ‘going after them to get to him’ angle but in the ‘they care about you and you being reckless is stressing them out and making it hard to trust you.’ It’s a lesson El, bless her heart, tries to give him multiple times but I think he… Doesn’t totally understand the implications. It’s not just that they could get hurt, literally or reputation-wise bc of him, it’s when he does reckless, impulsive shit it scares them, whether he’s putting himself in dangerous situations or keeping secrets and acting suspicious. Perhaps a better description would be he doesn’t realise how those effects change as they get closer—it becomes more personal for them. It’s more painful. That’s why I love s3 bc of the oblivious and sometimes intentional guilt slinging. Sure, Neal didn’t ask for this, but he also didn’t walk away, and he didn’t tell Peter the moment he found out. If he had, Peter might’ve kept Mozzie’s name out of it (and yeah, part of this is Mozzie being a bad influence, he’s lucky he’s likeable the rest of the time). It’s like my post about Honour Among Thieves; the reason Peter is suspicious is bc Neal is suspicious. In so many ways Peter throws himself all in on this and Neal just… Doesn’t reciprocate. And the more Peter cares about him, the more harsh the possible/apparent betrayals are. And Neal… Doesn’t seem to entirely clock that. Peter’s clearly out of sorts and overly emotional about the whole thing, and Neal’s initial response is being all shocked Peter ‘turned against him,’ just keeps trying to deflect suspicion. Predominately thinks Peter is going after it just bc he’s Peter, doesn’t seem to realise Peter is so obsessed w/ this bc it’s personal, bc to Peter this is not just a crime but a massive, very personal betrayal. Again, it’s Mozzie and Alex and Adler’s influence, but Neal just… Doesn’t seem to get how badly lying and deceiving can hurt people. It’s not just that he’d do it, Peter acknowledges early it could have been Mozzie or Alex who actually pulled the theft, it’s that Neal would keep it from him, outright hide it from him, and participate in the plan to run at all. It’s that Neal doesn’t tell him things until it’s critical, that’s why he’s so cagey during s4. Bc he loves him. And I don’t think Neal really gets that that’s love? I dunno, I’m rambling now, but while his relationship w/ Ellen was sweet, I think it’s telling of how he turned out that she acts like Peter was in the wrong for arresting Neal, too. Most of the people around Neal enable and/or encourage his reckless and more self centred behaviour, even the ostensible parental figure; Peter and El are the first ones to hold him to a higher standard not based on allowance or conning, as Peter says, trying to help him be the man they think he can be, give him a future where he doesn’t have to run all the time. What started as more a matter of convenience and fondness goes into them being full blown invested in helping this kid change his life. They’re the first ones to care about him and just. Be there, even when he makes being there really hard. They are literally his parents. And maybe partially he’s not used to having parents this invested in him but… Look, I’ve lost my train of thought but it’s like he sees some levels of consequences, but not all and not the right ones. Expects a level of separation that’s no longer there and doesn’t always realise the everyday pain he causes w/ his behaviour, and doesn’t seem to realise how much not knowing hurts, and definitely doesn’t always think about the fact that they’re intense connection to him makes them even bigger targets.

And he really doesn’t get the stress his improvisation and wonton nonsense put Peter through on a regular basis. Like how does Peter even sleep at night having to put up w/ that?? It’s no wonder her wants to put a tracking anklet on the second kid, Neal’s gotta be responsible for every single grey hair on his head and a few counts of high blood pressure. How has this man not had a heart attack yet, I would be dead.

[incomingalbatross]

The thing about Ezekiel Jones is that there a couple obvious directions you can go with the cynical, vocally-selfish-yet-charming rogue of the party.

You can make his detachment and cynicism purely the product of circumstances and reveal there’s a deathlessly loyal romantic very slightly under the surface, even if he didn’t believe it himself. This is the Han Solo and Eugene Fitzherbert route.

You can also have him actively yearning for love/connection/trust/worth, but perpetually doomed by his Criminal Inclinations to break every chance he’s given and/or be forever distrusted by the people he’s attached himself to. This is the angstier if more self-aware route, popular with Neal Caffrey and probably others I’m forgetting.

...But Ezekiel took all of that “cocky self-seeking thief who sticks around anyway” setup and somehow effortlessly dodged both these routes, because I guess he’s too awesome for angst or something. Because Ezekiel’s code is, apparently, “do what makes me happy,” like many rogues... but he’s willing to actually see what makes him happy, so it mostly works. Doing good things makes him happy! Being the hero makes him happy! Being around his friends makes him happy! So he’ll do that!

Now, the thing most rogues do see is that all of these sources of happiness will involve suffering at some point, so Type 1 has to be convinced that it’s worth it and Type 2 often fails to hold on to said happiness because they can’t face the downsides. Ezekiel... I think honestly believes that he can dodge any negative consequences, if he really wants to. Which means he doesn’t usually try to hold himself apart from the group or their causes—he doesn’t keep one foot out the door, because he assumes if he wants to make a break for it, it won’t matter how deep in he is.

He’s an honest rogue, and usually that doesn’t work—or it only works because they’re very deluded about their own attachments. But Ezekiel is only deluded (if it even counts as a delusion, considering his archetype powers) about his own ability to avoid negative consequences for his decisions. He’s remarkably clear-eyed about the decisions themselves!

But ALSO this means he’s sincere when he says he’s flat-out unwilling to do anything that's Not Fun. Usually when rogues say that it’s at least a little bit of a pose, but Ezekiel is just being up-front about it. Again, he will do things he doesn’t feel like doing if he’s pushed hard enough, but outside of “actively being forced” he usually feels no obligation to do anything he doesn’t feel like doing. This is why he avoids responsibilities and obligations—they are often Not Fun in themselves, but they also sign you for more not-fun things down the road! Ezekiel wants perpetual opt-out power in everything, even if he doesn’t often use it (because usually there is an immediately obvious purpose to whatever he’s being asked to do).

He wants to be a hero, because who wouldn’t, but he specifically wants to be the Rule-Breaking Maverick who can do whatever he wants because there’s an Actual Authority Figure behind a desk somewhere who will deal with everything else.

...All of which is why “And the Point of Salvation” was such a good device for breaking him. Because he COULD NOT GET OUT. And he couldn’t hand off the responsibility for the team AT ALL.

[coalitiongirl]

Fic Recs (under 300 edition)

So I wanted to get back to reading Swan Queen fic regularly, and I asked people to rec longfic that they'd read (not written) and loved that had fewer than 300 kudos! I haven’t read most of these, but I’ve collected them here so y’all can go through the list and discover some new fics with me! Please try to kudos and review every fic that you read! It means the world to the writers and will keep em writing, and then we all win. 😁

Atonement by SgtMac (M): With Regina's magical heart failing thanks to years of previous evil, Emma and Regina and Henry (and Granny!) set out to save her life by traveling to the Enchanted Forest and requesting help from ancient magical beings known as the Guardians. Given a mission as simple as it is impossible - to achieve atonement by creating peace - the ladies find themselves joining a rebellion and fighting for the very soul of the Enchanted Forest all while trying to help Regina to understand that the self-loathing and guilt which have driven most of her actions don't have to doom her chance for a new beginning or even, a chance to live and love again. A S4(ish) SQ love story set against the turmoil of war and the chaotic savagery of the old world.

Blood and Sand by cheshire6845 (E): A/U The Savior is a slave forced into the role of fighting as a gladiator for the House of Hearts. The odds are against her survival as she will have to win in the arena, navigate Cora's schemes, outlast a general's vengeance, and not be killed out of spite by the current House of Hearts Champion - Regina the Undefeated. This story follows the major plot points of Starz Spartacus with some twists along the way.

But what if there was no time by KizuRai (M): When she wakes up, it's dark. She can't move, she can't see, she can't feel and she can't hear. Where am I? She feels a forceful oppression, pressing her down, draining her of her energy and she's powerless to stop it. How did I get here? The question of here is relative, she's not even sure where here is. What happened? There must be some reason for being stuck here but her memory is fuzzy, like all her thoughts are being sifted through a filter. Who am I? She's not sure if she actually exists or she suddenly became sentient in the darkness.She hears a voice reverberating in the distance, it's distorted and quiet but she hears it all the same. It breaks the monotony of the silence. Someone's coming for her, they will get her out. She's just not sure she wants them to as the price might be too great.

Finding Home by evl_rgl (T): “I wanted to remember you so badly that I pulled back your cursed town just so that the memories would make sense. I needed you so badly that even when I had no memory of you, I still tried to find you.” Regina gave Emma and Henry memories of a happy life together before they fled Pan’s curse, leaving them with no memories of their lives in Storybrooke. However, when the memory spell shows signs of failing, threatening to rip apart the minds of both Emma and Henry, Regina makes a drastic choice to go back and fix it, understanding that it will mean living alone in a world where her son doesn’t know her. Was the spell really faulty, though? (swanqueen)

Five Flames by MariaComet (U): In the past, Emma Nolan disconnected from her peers in high school, preferring to keep to herself. In her sophomore year of high school, she decided to try and join the boy’s wrestling team because she was bored. She didn’t expect herself to become the champion of the most bullied kid in school or the secret best friend of the school queen. She also didn’t expect to join a club that would change her life. In the present, Emma is trying to cope with a humiliating loss in her martial arts career. She claims to be “training” but is stuck in limbo between wanting to retire and try again. She is isolated from her former best friend, Regina Mills, a local celebrity chef and the rest of her old friends. When one of them calls her with an idea to honor their deceased teacher, she is confronted with unresolved feelings and questions about how powerful love truly is.

A Glamour of Truth by PrincessCharming (T): After 2x10, Regina uses magic to show Emma the obvious truth. A tentative trust forms between them amid hilarious bickering. With Emma's help, Regina struggles to regain a place in her son's life... until Cora arrives, wanting her daughter back. Pieces of Regina's past emerge showing that the board was set long before the game started. The final battle begins soon.

His Dark Materials 'verse by MoonlitMidnight (M): A modern Alternate Universe in which Dæmons (the external physical manifestation of a person's 'inner self' that takes the form of an animal) are present. In which Emma and Regina have led slightly different lives and they make slightly different choices.

How Many Miles to Avalon? (WIP) by RavenOutlander (E): Regina would do anything to save Emma from the darkness and bring her back home safe and sound. Even put up with the two idiots, Captain Guyliner and a bunch of dwarves she decidedly wanted to drop off at the nearest exit. But in their search for Emma, they find that she might not need that much saving after all. Caught up in a search for the infamous Philosopher Stone, an all out war between DunBroch and Camelot, and ghosts from the past to haunt her every waking moment, Regina finds herself scrambling to keep her and her family's happy endings from falling apart.

The Hyperion by FrankenSpine (M): After wishing upon what she believes is a shooting star, Emma Swan finds herself aboard the Hyperion, the royal starship of an alien Queen from a faraway galaxy. She quickly learns of the tensions between the Queen's people and her own, but the Queen takes an interest in her and agrees to take her away from Earth forever. Adventure awaits. *(Loosely based on Guardians of the Galaxy with just a hint of Farscape)*

If Wishes Came True (It Would've Been You) by Angeii_K (M): After Regina films a guest appearance on her friend Neal’s popular show, he invites her to spend the weekend with him and his girlfriend. What she never expected was to actually like the woman. Sparks fly between the two, which results in them questioning everything and making choices they will later regret. 4 years later, they meet again in the most unexpected of ways. Now co-stars on the same show, they are forced to work through the emotions from their last encounter. What will happen next? Only time will tell.

The King Doesn’t Have To Know (WIP) by highheelsandchocolate (M): The White Knight had never seen anyone like her before: the Queen was nothing short of mesmerizing. Her possessive yet neglectful husband, however, was another thing entirely.

The Lich by Dangereaux (M): Gay disaster Emma, exasperated Regina, and a monster. A Halloween special.

Maybe if We Close Our Eyes we Can Reach the Stars by wellthizizdeprezzing (T): Emma is a lonely astronaut. Regina is an adventuring alien. Their paths cross leading them onto a journey of new discovery. Between galaxies and many miles of cold black space, despite not speaking the same language, they manage to fall for each other. An out of this world love story.

A prisoner long forgotten by sugarsweet_19 (M): ‘I wish I had a child as white as snow, as red as blood and as black as the wood of the window-frame. Soon after she had a little girl, who was as white as snow, with lips as red as blood and with her hair as black as the ebony of the window-frame. She was therefore called Snow-white.” This is how our story starts but how will it end?The evil queen as been locked up in a tower and forgotten that is until princess Emma looks for a place to hid from her parents after they tell her she has to marry Neal the son of the dark one.

Revenge of the Three Little Pigs by mskyo (M): Regina and Emma find themselves alone and looking for the rest of their party. The Evil Queen must face the consequences of her past actions. Will Emma come to her aid, or understand that justice must be served... *Some chapters have fairly graphic sex, and violence*

Things I Almost Remember by cheshire6845 (T): A/U Despite an oncoming war between the Dark and the Light, Emma and Regina are best friends growing up in the Enchanted Forest. When war does come, they find themselves on opposite sides. Regina will have to defy her mother to save Emma. Will Emma be able to save Regina when Cora curses her daughter to live in the Land without Magic?

What We Make (WIP) by DiazTuna (M): “My mother.” He says calmly. He’d known all along, she’s aware. But he’d known that today would be the day that would get this going. She wants to ask what it was like, to have woken up this morning, laced up his boots and walked into hell just knowing. “It’s programmed the cyborg to kill her. Before I have a chance to be born.” -In which the leader of the future sends his best soldier back to the past to save his mother from a killer cyborg. Terminator AU.

The Wrong Way by pcworth (M): Takes place right after Zelena steals Regina's heart. Zelena offers Regina a chance to go back in time with her and change both of their lives for the better. But what will be the price of that decision. Slow-burn to SwanQueen

zombie trash by 13pens (T): Zelena could have her brain and eat it, too. Fic operates on three premises 1. this takes place in any universe where zelena is a reformed asshole 2. zombies are a thing and exist iZombie style 3. i have NO chill

[reids-rendering-reality]

Criminal Collar

Summary: Spencer meets Y/N’s ex-boyfriend and renowned criminal consultant for the White Collar Crime Unit of the FBI, Neal Caffrey.

(A/N: this is a cross-over between White Collar and Criminal Minds. There are no spoilers for WC and you don’t need to have watched it to read this. Also, I know I made Neal a little meaner than he is, but it fits better with my storyline oops)

Type: angst, with the end being fluffy and a little smutty

Warnings: mentions of criminal activity, insecurity, jealousy, making out

Word Count: 2.4K

Reader’s POV

I joined the BAU about one and a half years ago, after leaving the White Collar Crime Unit of the FBI. Honestly, I was kind of glad when Strauss requested my transfer and my new team suits me way better. Especially because I’ve started dating Dr. Spencer Reid 6 months ago and he makes me really happy. However, I guess luck wasn’t on my side this week.

Like it always is when things like this happen, it was a regular day at the FBI. I was working on some paperwork at my desk before JJ would brief us on the new case in half an hour. That was when Hotch appeared from his office.

“Y/L/N, can you come into my office?” he said looking down at me into the bullpen. When I just looked up at him confused for a moment, he continued “now, please.”

I got up slowly, exchanging a few worried glances with Spencer before walking into his office.

“Agent Burke from the White Collar unit has requested you to go downstairs and consult on a case,” Hotch said in his typical ultra-serious voice.

“Do you know what case this is? I am working on this team now,” I said, a little worried that I would have to return to the WCU.

“I don’t know. But don’t worry, you won’t be transferred again. Head down now, we’re leaving in an hour. Spencer will brief the case to you on the jet,” he said while mustering my anxious stance.

When I returned to the bullpen, I quickly organised my desk so that I could leave for the jet right away.

“What did he want?” Spencer asked, suddenly standing next to me which made me jump a little.

“WCU needs a consult on a case, but I’ll be back in time for take-off,” I said, avoiding his eyes and getting ready to leave for the elevator.

I walked past Spencer and didn’t turn around once, but I could feel his eyes on the back of my head. Not only his though, I felt the entire team stare me down as I disappeared into the hall.

 The rest of the week was relatively eventless – for the BAU at least. I gave Burke his consult on the case and headed to Texas with the others. The case was not too difficult or straining.

When we returned to the office, it wasn’t even late. It was midday, and everyone was chattering about happily in the elevator. But when the elevator doors opened, the mood shifted completely. Right there, in the bullpen, sitting at my desk, I saw a figure in a black fedora. My breath hitched and I could feel Spencer look over at me. When we exited the elevator, the figure turned around and revealed his face.

“Is that-“ Morgan began baffled.

“Neal Caffrey,” I finished a clear sour undertone to my voice. Both Morgan and Spencer looked at me weirdly. It was unusual for me to talk in this way, I don’t think they have ever heard it before.

I pushed open the glass doors and hurried away from the others towards the man sitting at my desk.

“Y/N/N! So nice to see you again,” he grinned up at me as I approached him. I could still feel the four pairs of eyes burning into the back of my head.

“Neal, what are you doing here?” I said, my voice even more furious than before. At the same time, my mind was racing about how I would explain all of this to Spencer and the others later.

“Can’t we just talk like we used to? I saw you in Burke’s office on Monday,” he said, still grinning and making no move to get out of the chair.

“Fine, come with me,” I walked away towards the conference room, hearing him following behind me in his typically slow and casual stride.

 Spencer’s POV

I felt my jaw being open during their entire interaction and quickly shut it as they entered the conference room.

“What was that all about?” Prentiss asked curiously.

“That’s Neal Caffrey, the criminal consultant down at the-“ I began to explain almost automatically.

“I know who he is, but how does he know Y/N and why is he here?” Prentiss interrupted me.

“Well, Y/N worked down at the WCU before she was transferred here. I heard a rumour from a friend that works there. Apparently, Y/N was dating him during her time there and when a case ended badly for them, they suspected that she couldn’t work there with him anymore. He did some scandalous things that not only endangered the reputation of their entire team, but also the entire FBI. Some say, Y/N was in on it and didn’t tell anyone. But after a couple of examinations, she was transferred here instead because Strauss thinks she’s invaluable to the FBI,” JJ explained to all of us.

“She dated a criminal? Damn, I never would’ve expected that from her,” Derek said and looked up to the conference room and then said a little more quietly, “quite a change in her type since she came here.”

I looked at him incredulously, before looking at my hands and fidgeting with them.

“Did you know about this, Reid?” Prentiss asked me.

“Me?” I looked up again, “What- uh- no, of course not!”

“How did you not know that your girlfriend’s ex-boyfriend is one of the most famous white-collar criminals?” Morgan asked.

“We haven’t really talked about that stuff,” I said quietly, “it’s not like I would’ve had anything to share.”

“So you’re telling me, you’ve never had the uncomfortable talk about exes with her? For a genius, you do not have a lot of experience with relationships,” Prentiss said, her tone almost joking.

“What do you think they’re talking about in there?” I tried to deflect the topic of conversation away from me while looking up at the conference room, where Neal was just closing the blinds.

 Reader’s POV

“So, why did you come here?” I asked, closing the door to the conference room behind me as Neal looked around.

“Surely you miss the WCU. This place is dark and gloomy. The cases are grim and the undercover operations aren’t nearly as glamorous. Plus, I’m not there,” he grinned at me. I couldn’t help but chuckle at his attempt at flirting with me.

“Cut the crap, I left the WCU for a reason. Don’t make me ask again: why are you here?” I could feel my annoyance rise.

“I’m here because of you. I just want to talk to you. We haven’t seen each other in so long, I wanted to catch up a little,” he paused, walking around the table, “you can’t tell me you haven’t missed me.”

“I haven’t,” I said.

Before I could continue to speak, Neal continued, “right. Like I would believe that,” he looked out the window into the bullpen where the team was standing, trying not to stare too obviously, “but then again, here’s that lanky boy. He keeps looking at you in a certain way. Is he your boyfriend?”

Neal glanced at me for a moment, before turning his attention back to the window and closing the blinds with a bright grin.

“That’s none of your business. My life is none of your business anymore. You put me in so much danger without even caring about the consequences. That’s why I transferred here. So please, just leave me alone.”

He now walked over me in casual strides. I mustered him, the memories resurfacing at the sight of him in that typical classy Italian suit, with a pin on his tie. He was always dressed so properly. But the way he behaved was just the opposite. Yet, a tiny little part of me looked at him and saw that attractive man that I had fallen in love with over the years working with him.

He stopped when he was standing right in front of me, brushing a strand of hair out of my face.

“Y/N, don’t you think it’s time to let that go? That was such a long time ago.. I’ve changed, you know?” he looked into my eyes with a sincerity that I would’ve believed one and a half years ago. But working at the BAU taught me a lot about reading people, seeing typical communication and manipulation strategies. I wasn’t falling for his lies anymore.

“Is that all you came here for, Neal? Trying to get me back? Because I won’t ever go back to you. I’ve moved on and I realised that dating you, to begin with, was a huge mistake,” I said with the most confident tone I could muster.

That last part wasn’t entirely true. While he did hurt me, my reputation, and everything I stood for repeatedly, he still was a part of me. We had been in a relationship for years. There were so many good times that I had to let go for my well-being.

To be convincing with my words, I walked past him, towards the door, “it’s time for you to leave.”

After a little bickering back and forth, he finally walked out of the BAU. I could see that the team had left, only Spencer was still sitting at his desk, working on some paperwork. He was waiting for me to go home together, just like always. The sight warmed my heart; Spencer was so good to me.

But of course, Neal wouldn’t just leave without a bang. Walking past Spencer’s desk, he stopped for a second and said, “take care of her. She obviously needs you to get over me.”

Spencer looked up at him with wide eyes as he spoke and didn’t even respond before Neal had left into the elevator. Spencer turned his head and looked up at me.

 We were on the way home to my apartment, just like always when we returned from a case. We sat there in silence, Spencer’s eyes focused intensely on the road as he was driving.

“Spencer?” I asked softly looking over at him. He just gave a tight-lipped hum in response.

“Can we talk? I assume you have questions, but you haven’t said anything yet.”

He cleared his voice before responding calmly and quietly, “I just didn’t want to discuss it at the office. There isn’t anything to talk about. I know about one of your exes now.”

“But what he said to you. And everything. It must-“ I huffed, “you look like it bothers you. Don’t you want to share what you’re feeling? Maybe I can help you process.”

Spencer gave me a quick glance, seemingly ignoring my concerned face with a cold expression.

“What do you want to hear? Do you want to hear how I keep thinking I’m not good enough for you, regardless of what happened today? How that just made me feel worse? Do you want to hear about how embarrassed I was when JJ told us that he is your ex-boyfriend and I, your current boyfriend, didn’t even know about it? Do you want to know about all the other things I’m imagining you hiding from me? How my mind is racing with all my insecurities that you already know about because I tell you things that bother me while you don’t?” he said, his voice getting louder and louder with each question while his grip on the steering wheel tightened.

“Do you want to know about how Morgan even commented on the fact that he is so different from me and your type has changed a lot? How do you think all that makes me feel? When it isn’t coming from you?” he continued angrily.

I didn’t know what to say. To be honest, I was a little speechless. I thought it would bother him, but not like this.

“See? That’s why I didn’t want to open up. It’s not like you have anything to say about it anyway,” he said, his tone ice-cold.

The rest of the car ride was silent. My mind was racing with things I could respond to him, but nothing came to mind. When we arrived at my apartment, I was surprised that he parked the car. I had assumed that after that speech he would just drop me off and go home alone.

Before I could move, Spencer had turned towards me and taken my hand into his gently.

“Can I come inside?” he asked softly, his demeanour completely different from before.

“Yes, of course, Spence,” I replied gently.

Upstairs in my apartment, we sat on the couch together.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier. I’m just really bothered by it. He is everything I’m not. He is attractive, charming, has a good style, and even just muscles. He is-“ Spencer began, but I cut him off.

“and he is a criminal. Listen, Spence, I completely understand how you feel. But, behind his attractive mask, there is so much more, that just isn’t attractive. To me, his personality wasn’t attractive. He didn’t treat me well and only cared about himself. He only cared about the lifestyle he wanted to lead and he could never let go of his criminal past.”

Spencer just looked up at me from his hunched position with his big brown puppy eyes.

“Plus, just because he is attractive doesn’t mean you’re not. God, I think you’re so hot. Your face, your hair, those sweater vests. You’re completely different from him, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t attractive. And when you use that big brain of yours to solve cases and explain things, that no one else knows and that most people don’t even understand. I think you’re incredibly attractive. And your intelligence is very charming, and-,” I began to ramble about all the things I loved about him.

But before I could continue speaking he had grabbed my face and kissed me on the lips passionately. His lips moved against mine, as his hands entangled in my hair. I almost moaned into his mouth as his tongue found mine and my hands reached for the back of his neck.

When we pulled apart, he was breathless and said with a slight pant, “so you think I’m really hot, huh?”

And I didn’t know how to respond to that in any other way than to just slip onto his lap and kiss him again.

[ohmightydevviepuu]

writers month prompts

day nineteen:  bubble

(follow the complete story, try / cry / why? (just a dream) as it posts daily or on AO3)

–

“You chose her,” Cora intoned. “And the consequences of that decision.” (2B canon divergence wherein Emma and Killian deal with the consequences.)

She closes her eyes.

Inhale. Exhale.

(Focus.)

And it’s worth it—almost—to see the look on Neal’s face when she opens them again, his stupid, slack-jawed, vacant look, because he’s been caught. Without a lie, without a story.

(Without a fucking clue.)

“Em?”

Inhale, exhale—she looks around the room and feels the power in her fingertips, the emotions driving her, fury and frustration both. She feels them watching her: Neal—and Killian.

(Focus.)

With the whisper of power suddenly under her full control she very deliberately strokes the underside of his wrist—watches his mouth quirk, his eyebrow rise. Feels his pulse quicken.

The frustration dissipates. Just for a second, until—

“Emma.” Neal’s voice is cautious. “Did you—the sparks—that was…you?”

She sighs. “I guess you didn’t factor that into your grand plan?”

“Does, uh, he—I mean, Henry—does he know?”

He waves at her hands and he’s got some kind of look on his face and—

Fuck him.

(Seriously.)

(Only it’s too late for that and it’s technically what got her into this mess.)

(Aside from being born.)

“Henry knows,” she says quietly. Calmly. Without sparks.

“No.” Neal is shaking his head. “No, I mean—does he know? What it can do? How it can go wrong? Magic always comes with a price, Em.”

“Henry—“

Inhale, exhale.

“He put himself under a sleeping curse to save this town. He has nightmares about it every night. He saw a wraith unleashed by your father push his mother and his grandmother into another realm and then he saw the killing magic dear old dad left around our only way home and had to beg the Evil Queen to save us—“

Her hand is reaching for her pocket almost instinctively—no fucking way is she letting this asshole near her kid—and the phone nearly shorts but she takes another breath before she unlocks it, inhale, exhale; Killian’s hand—his touch—there, and gentle, like maybe he doesn’t even know he’s doing it or the way it lets her relax and push the sparks away.

(Like he has a right to do it. Like he’s allowed.)

(She doesn’t ask herself when she got that close to him again.)

“Henry was the first one of us to believe in the magic,” she says. “He knew about all of this—about the other realm, and the fairy tales, and the curse—before any of us. He gets it, Neal. I’m just—not sure that you do.”

(Henry.)

(She can’t—she needs to warn him. But she can’t, can she?)

(Because she’s lied to him his entire life. And now she needs the Evil Queen to protect her—their—son.)

Her hand in her pocket tightens around the phone and she forces herself to breathe.

And focus.

(And through it all, Hook’s touch grounding her.)

(Or maybe sending her to the stratosphere.)

“You know what I get?” Neal is fuming, like he’s the one who has a right to be angry. “I get how much better this world would be if people like the Evil Queen or the Dark One didn’t have fucking magic. I get that this is probably our only chance to make that happen. And I really, really don’t want my son living in a world where he has to worry about sleeping curses and wraiths and magic that can kill him. Emma, don’t you understand? You have to help me.”

(It’s upsetting, how reasonable it sounds.)

(She doesn’t exactly have warm and fuzzy feelings about magic and all of the ways it’s fucked up her life.)

(But still.)

“This town runs on magic, Neal. All of the people here—their lives depend on it. And Henry—“

“I’ve been working on this for over ten years, Em. I know what I’m doing.”

(Ten. Years.)

In a voice that doesn’t sound like hers, she says: “Since you left?”

(She hates that it’s a question.)

“Yes,” he says, looking at the floor.

“Enough.” Killian pulls himself out of his chair with an effort that Emma feels when he stands and holds out his wrist to let the light catch the silver of the re-attached hook. “It’s not the magic that does the damage. It’s us. We do it to ourselves—in our grief, in our anger, in our hatred, in our greed. I have caused irreparable harm—without magic—and with the same disregard for cost you rightly bemoan in your father.”

(She doesn’t think.)

(She just reaches out.)

(Grabs his hook.)

“I have seen magic used to crush a heart—“

(The ache in his chest that she feels.)

“ —and then turned around and used its power to remove the heart of another myself—to control, to hurt. Because I hurt. It’s not the magic, Neal.”

(But he gave it back.)

(Why?)

(Why?)

(He shot Belle.)

(Because he hurt.)

He pauses and the air feels heavy. Still, like it does in the Other Place—or maybe it is just the feeling of Killian weighing the words in his mind. “As for Swan, whatever her flaws—and they are legion, no doubt—there can be no doubt of what her magic is: Purest, brightest light.”

(Fire. And Magic.)

Neal scoffs. “Flaws. You have no idea.” He turns toward the door, his hand reaching for his pocket. “I can’t—I just need some air.”

Emma watches him go and relief is the only thing she feels.

Relief.

“Escaping the magic is all he’s ever wanted. It’s why he left his father in the first place.” Killian exhales a long sigh that she echoes—the release of it and the relief of it and the hitch in her breathing that is his.

Relief.

It’s all she’s been seeking since the moment Hook—Killian—woke up.

Maybe this entire time.

She says, “It’s what both of you wanted, isn’t it? The Dark One powerless.”

(Since the curse.)

(Since her birthday.)

“You don’t know, Swan, the lengths I have gone to in order to reach this moment.” His voice is very quiet and deadly serious. “The things I’ve done, the things I’ve told myself were necessary. As for Neal—he chose the coward’s way out. That’s why he is here now, because he didn’t fight when he had the chance.”

“For the magic?”

“No.” Killian shakes his head. There’s sadness in his mind and his words. “For you. He didn’t fight for you. But a man who refuses to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets.”

She hears him—feels him—arguing with himself. Muttering in his mind, na eisai kalyteros anthropos apo ton patera soy.

Gibberish, and sadness, bleeding out of him, pouring into her. She says: “And you’re still fighting. Still waiting.”

(It’s a question, one she needs to know the answer to.)

He’s still shaking his head but he’s not saying ‘no’. “I dug my own grave the day he took her from me. I’d been waiting ever since. And then one day—you pulled me out of it.”

Relief.

(And—maybe—that’s all that he’s wanted, too.)

She turns and looks at Killian sagging back into the chair and there’s the easy, almost mindless way he’s touching her—again—

There are sparks at her fingertips.

His arms around her as she crowds him in the chair and she’s drowning, drowning—

Her breath, catching.

(And his.)

Emma puts her hand on top of his, over the ink and the name and the heart beating over the pulse point of his wrist, in time with her own.

(Like it’s easy, like it’s a habit, like she has the right to touch this scar he’s given himself, his reminder of his hurt and the way he seeks it out still, welcomes it because it’s all he remembers how to feel.)

(She’s telling herself, since he woke up, that she needs relief from him but that’s not the truth, is it?)

(Because the relief is sitting here, with him, as the wreckage of her past explodes around them. As the wreckage of his past explodes around them.)

(Because it’s real.)

(Meaning in the chaos.)

(Hope.)

She says nothing. Neither does he.

(Because it’s easier.)

(Because it’s safer.)

As if in this bubble of mutual silence and understanding they can preserve the magic of the Other Place—the fire, the flame, the light. The place where he feels everything—

—and so does she.

He pushes himself to stand again as she shifts her weight and offers her arm for balance without even thinking about it. When he speaks again, his words fill every atom of the space between them.

“Baelfire was a fighter. Ever since he was a lad. But after all of those years of fighting—perhaps Neal just found it easier to stop.”

(But Neal had never fought for anything.)

(Not for her. Or Tallahassee.)

(Just himself.)

“You want to help him,” she says, backing away.

“I am a man of honor,” he says, holding her wrist tight against him. “And I owe Baelfire. But you know as well as I do, Swan, that Neal has not told us the entire truth of his plan. He said it himself.”

Some of the tension in her shoulders releases.

She—almost—smiles.

“His father always found his way through a loophole.”

Killian nods. His eyes are bright and blue and glinting with emotion. “Neal is nothing if not his father’s son. I will help him. And you—will find the loophole.”

“A team,” she says.

“Aye.” He drops her wrist, but not without caressing the underside with his thumb. His eyelashes are stupid and long and he’s looking up at her through them and she can smell the rum and feel the fabric all over again.

“And what happens after that?” she says. She’s not sure if she says it out loud or in her mind but either way he smiles. “After the waiting. The fighting. After Neal—after Cora.”

“I don’t know, love. Perhaps that’s when the fun begins.”

--

@spartanguard @optomisticgirl @shireness-says @profdanglaisstuff @katie-dub​ @thisonesatellite​ @mariakov81​ @kmomof4​ @stahlop​ @tiganasummertree​

[elizabeethan]

The Days We Defend (Will Turn to Gold)- Chapter 9/10

Everything is perfect, until it isn’t. Killian and Emma have spent months building a life together after finally defeating Neal and Gold, but when the Dark One dies and his power becomes untethered, everyone in Storybrooke is at risk, and some decisions may have lasting consequences.

Sequel to Walk With Me (I Think We’ll Find A Way)

Previous Chapters

Read on Ao3

A/N: Surprise, it’s early! One chapter to go after this one!!! Let me know what you think... It’s a doozy.

Thank you to my good pal @the-darkdragonfly for being an amazing beta!

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

They wait outside of the vault for what feels like hours. Realistically, it couldn’t be more than thirty seconds before someone speaks up, but the tension is palpable to everyone present, thick enough to slice with the dagger they just entrusted in the hands of Baelfire.

“So, how is this supposed to work?” Emma asks the Apprentice, breaking the silence in what Killian can sense is overwhelming nerves.

“You, as the Savior, are the proprietor of the most powerful Light Magic. As the person who removed your potential for darkness, I am the possessor of the counter to your lightness. Combining our powers will charge the hat enough to absorb the Darkness.” His answer is casual, as if it should be obvious to them all.

She’s pacing nervously, rolling her eyes at his mention of the removal of her potential for darkness. Killian almost wonders what may have happened if she had taken the darkness all those weeks ago based on the removal of such, but shoves those thoughts from his head. “It’s all a bit ridiculous, if you ask me,” she says.

“I’m sure it seems that way, but you must believe in your ability to wield your magic, Savior.”

“He’s right, mom,” Henry adds. “If anyone can get my other mom back, it’s you.”

She shoots her son a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes as she rings her hands together, holding them close to her just below her ribs. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, kid,” she murmurs.

Killian sighs, realizing once more that the more time that passes, the greater opportunity Bae has to cheat them all. Before he can voice his opinion, though, Robin speaks up. “Should we go in and check now? It’s been a few moments.”

“Yeah,” Emma breathes out. “He’s had more than enough time to subdue her.”

Once they’re inside, Emma pushing the tomb away from the vault’s entrance effortlessly with her magic, they creep down the dark stairs and into the halls of Regina’s safe haven. It’s dank and smells of mildew, and he wonders why she wouldn’t use her Dark Magic to polish the place up a bit.

“Savior,” the Apprentice says, “we’re close enough; we can pause here to charge the hat.”

Emma nods, taking a deep breath and hugging herself around her middle, crossing her arms stiffly in her stress. “Okay,” she says with her voice low.

The Apprentice’s explanation of what she needs to do seems somewhat complicated, but despite her inexperience with her magic, Emma seems to understand perfectly. The two of them stand across from one another with the hat sitting between them and he waves his hands over it until it begins to move. As he works, Emma glances up at Henry and Killian, giving them an encouraging but not quite believable smile.

Before they know it, the cylindrical lockbox housing the hat is jumping in place until the hat itself appears. The Apprentice continues to explain what she should do, and she concentrates harder than he’s ever seen her; the look of determination on her face gives him hope that this will work. Her resolve and conviction makes it impossible for him not to believe in her. The bright look of surprise across her features once the two of them stop using their magic tells him that it must have worked, and the hat glowing in anticipation of its use.

“You did it!” Henry exclaims, rushing to her and wrapping her in a hug which she returns easily. “I knew you could.”

Killian releases a breath that he didn’t know he was holding, stepping towards her and taking her hand once she’s released from Henry’s grasp. She goes to him happily, a triumphant smile across her face as she lets go of his hand in favor of pulling him into a tight hug.

“Job well done, Swan,” he says into her hair. “We never doubted you for a second.”

She pulls from him and giggles softly, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips and then stepping away, a silent agreement made among all of them that they must continue on. Once they’re far enough into the vault, sneaking quietly along the stone floor, they hear the quiet conversation going on between Regina and Bae.

“I saw what he said this morning,” the Dark One says confidently. “I used mirror magic and was able to see exactly what my son thinks of you these days. It shouldn’t be hard to convince him that I’m doing the right thing here.”

“You’re insane,” Bae responds, groaning in pain suddenly.

“No, I’m motivated. There’s a difference. Your little plan didn’t work like I’d hoped, so I suppose I’ll have to go with my backup plan.”

He’s breathing heavily as he says, “and what, you think killing me is the best way to go about getting what you want?”

Killian sees Emma tensing as she picks up her pace, tucking herself behind a corner close to where Regina and Bae have met. She glances back at everyone else nervously as the conversation continues.

“I finally found the spell I need to remove the darkness. I only need one more special ingredient.”

“Wait!” Emma shouts forcefully, as if she didn’t think before revealing herself in a desperate attempt to stop Regina in her tracks. “Regina, whatever you’re doing, just wait.”

“Savior,” she says venomously. “I was wondering when you were going to show yourself.”

It’s clear that she knew that Emma was here all along, but whether she’s aware of the presence of the other five people standing in her vault, he can’t be sure.

Emma steps around the corner fully, making herself seen and holding her hands up placatingly . “We have a plan, Regina. If you want to remove the darkness, we can help you with that.”

“Right. I’m sure the princess of Light Magic is going to help the Dark One. Step away, Miss Swan, and let me finish what I’ve started.”

“How long have you had his heart?” Emma asks, and Killian desperately wishes that he could see the scene playing out behind this wall.

Regina laughs lightly, ominously, and says, “I’m not surprised you didn’t notice. Meanwhile, how quickly did you realize that he had the pirate’s? I suppose that goes to show how she truly feels about you,” she says, and he can only assume she’s speaking to Bae now.

“Please just put it down,” Emma begs. Killian has to assume that she got the dagger away from Bae somehow because she evidently has his heart and can control him, likely coercing him into giving it to her. Otherwise, he’s certain that they would have commanded her to stop as they had planned.

He sees Henry starting to stir, so he holds up a hand and shoots him a glare that says don’t even think about it. The last thing they need is for Henry to put himself in harm's way. The lad leans back against the wall silently.

“Give me the hat and maybe I will,” she negotiates.

“Regina, please just trust us. We want to help you, and we have a plan. A good plan! We can help you get the darkness out without hurting anyone.”

Regina scoffs, her laughter reminding Killian of the person she was back in the Enchanted Forest years ago. “Who, you? You and the old man are going to help me? You think you're more powerful than I am?”

“I never said that!” Emma tries despondently. Then, Killian hears the unmistakable sound of magic being wielded followed by Emma’s desperate shout: “no!”

As he rounds the corner, all semblance of logical thought evacuating his mind quickly, he hears Baelfire cry out in pain and sees him collapse to the floor of the vault. Emma falls to her knees beside him, sobs wracking her as she hysterically shakes his motionless form. When Killian’s eyes finally find Regina, he sees her holding her closed fist above the glowing hat that she must’ve conjured away from Emma, the last remnants of dust sprinkling out of her hold as the hat’s brilliance strengthens. He sees a manic smile splitting the Dark One’s face as he rushes to Emma’s side in a useless attempt to comfort her.

He has no idea where anyone else is. He thinks he hears Robin shout, but it isn’t clear over the sound of Emma’s keening. He runs his hand along her spine when he reaches her and she spins, releasing Bae and throwing herself into Killian’s chest forcefully. Her tears dampen the skin of his neck. Her cries deafen him to the ruckus surrounding them. He almost doesn’t notice Henry boldly rushing towards the Dark One in violent haste.

“What have you done?!” he screams, and both Killian and Emma snap apart and turn towards the lad just in time to watch him thrust the dagger towards Regina’s throat.

“Henry,” the Dark One says against the blade, her eyes bulging as they meet his own. “Put the dagger down.”

Killian recognized the look on the lad’s face just before he leapt for her: it’s the same one he himself wore just before he killed his own father.

“Tell me why you did this,” he demands, his voice wrought with emotion.

Regina, unable to defy the laws of the dagger, answers, “he had no idea how to be a father to you.”

“Now he’ll never have the chance to learn!” he screams, pressing the blade until a trail of crimson paints her flesh.

“You deserve better than him,” she insists assuredly, though her head is held high in avoidance of the weapon.

“I deserve better than you!”

“Let me remove the Darkness. Then this will all be over! We can be together again!” she begs against the scalloped edge.

Killian stands slowly, pulling Emma along behind him, and they move closer to Henry as carefully as they can. “We had a plan to remove it that didn’t involve murder!”

“Henry,” Emma tries timidly. “Kid, please put the dagger down.”

“She killed my dad,” he reasons, not turning his gaze from Regina. “She has to pay.”

“If you do this, the only person who will pay is you.” Emma's voice is eerily calm now, as if something has switched in her and her motherhood instincts have taken over to give her what she needs to talk her son through the crisis he’s battling.

“I can’t let her get away with this!” he shouts. “She killed him right in front of me!”

“Kid,” she says, stepping away from Killian and towards the lad to put a careful hand on his shoulder. “We will make sure that she’s held accountable for this. Let me take the Darkness out of her and we’ll put her where she belongs.”

“She doesn’t deserve to live.”

“This isn’t you, Henry. You’re a good kid, you know right from wrong. You know what happens to you if you go through with this.”

“Lad,” Killian says, surprising himself. “Don’t let your mother see you become the Dark One.”

His shoulders relax. His arm loosens, the dagger falling from Regina’s flesh and dragging a bit of blood along with it. She lets out the breath she was holding in suspense and collapses slightly against the table behind her.

Emma turns towards the Apprentice and flatly says, “please take care of this now,” before Henry turns, drops the dagger to the ground, and throws himself into his mother’s arms.

Regina reaches for the dagger but Killian grabs it first. “Take him outside, love,” he instructs Emma.

Once they’re gone, the Queen sneers at him angrily as the Apprentice prepares for the spell to remove the Darkness and store it in the hat. “I almost had you,” she says, smirking.

He can’t help but to roll his eyes. “You never had me. How long have you had his heart?”

“Oh,” she says casually, “it wasn’t until after the curse broke. Don’t worry, that was all him.”

“So you knew we would try to disarm you with the dagger, then?” David asks.

“Of course. I figured the curse would break eventually, and when it did I had to be ready. Oh, congratulations, by the way.” She turns back towards Killian. “I must admit, you and the Savior breaking the curse was a fun surprise.

He rolls his eyes again, desperate to not engage her in further conversation. “Do you want us to remove the Darkness or not?”

“Yes, and then I’d like to see my son.”

He laughs. “I can assure you that is not happening.”

“Why, because I took care of a problem for him? We all know Neal wasn’t cut out to be a father. I mean, look at what he did. This was all based on his plan.”

“Take a look at what you did,” Killian spits, gesturing towards Bae’s crumpled, lifeless body, trying not to think about the young boy he used to know.

“It would be a miracle if Henry ever speaks to you again. You’ve just murdered his father in front of him,” David adds.

“Tell me, how is that any different from what you did all those years ago, Captain?”

He snaps his head towards her too quickly, fearing Emma’s father learning more about his sordid. “We agreed not to speak of that.”

She chuckles darkly. “You murdered your own father with his son in the next room. How are you any better than me?”

He hardly thinks before taking the dagger and pressing it to her throat, pushing her against the table and overpowering her easily. “Listen,” he commands, fully aware that she has no choice. “I made a mistake; I’ve made many. And since then, I’ve made amends. I feel regret over the things that I’ve done and the harm that I’ve caused. You just murdered your son’s father right in front of him and show no remorse. Don’t begin to compare us because we are nothing alike.”

He releases her once the Apprentice speaks, informing them that he’s ready as long as they are. “You have to want to have the Darkness removed, Dark One.”

“I do,” she insists. “Just do it already.”

He takes the dagger and waves it ceremoniously, reciting a spell that honestly sounds a bit ridiculous before waves of black are drawn from her chest, right where her heart would be if he believed she had one. The scene playing out before him reminds him of the violent onyx whizzing through the air mere weeks ago when she became the Dark One.

The Apprentice is shaking with exhaustion as he continues to chant, holding the dagger in his hands above her heart until all of the black ribbons have flown into the hat. Once the room fades to silence, he falls to the ground, Regina collapsing just after him.

The room is silent for far too long. No one moves. No one speaks. No one knows what to do.

“What now?” Robin asks, his voice flat and his expression blank as he stares at Regina’s still face.

“We’ll have to remove them and… and the body,” Killian chokes out. “Are they alive?”

“Both are. The Apprentice doesn’t look so good, though,” David answers. “Would be a lot easier if we could magic them out of here.”

“I’m not letting Emma come back down here!” Killian snaps, turning to sneer at her father.

“I wasn’t suggesting that,” he starts and though he looks as though he could say more, he stays quiet. “Why don’t you go up and check on them.”

“We've got to get—”

“Go,” he insists. “Robin and I will make sure Regina gets to where she needs to be, and we’ll take the Apprentice to the hospital.”

“What about him?” he gestures towards Bae’s stiff frame.

David sighs. “We’ll figure that out. Right now… your family needs you. Make sure Henry’s out of here. He doesn’t have to see anything else today. ”

His words weigh heavily in the space between them, the air feeling thicker suddenly as he admits his acceptance of Killian’s presence in his daughter and grandson’s lives. “Aye mate,” he breathes in response, taking one last look at the state of the room and turning towards the exit.

When he gets outside, the sun is nearly setting and the humid summer air leaves him feeling hot and sticky in his leather jacket. He finds Emma and Henry a few meters away from the stone structure, Emma sitting on the ground and her son’s head resting in her lap. His stomach twists in knots at the sight of them. The lad has been through enough already without having to be involved in what he’s just witnessed.

When she hears him coming, Emma looks up through tears, her brows pinching together as she appears to hold in more tears. She runs her fingers through Henry’s hair soothingly, but it’s clear that he’s difficult to console. He has every right to be.

Killian sits beside her, as close as he can get, and she somehow presses closer and rests her head against his shoulder. He wraps his arm around her so that he can run his hand along her arm. “Robin and your father are working on… cleaning up.”

“It’s done?” she asks through silent tears.

“Aye,” he just about whispers. “It appears to have worked.”

“Where is she?” he hears Henry mumble from his mother’s lap.

“Passed out, lad. To be transported to the hospital.” He nods in response, otherwise staying still. “We should go now. Pick up the baby and head home.”

Emma sighs, her breath stuttering, then says, “you’re right. Let’s get you home, kid.”

Henry’s silent and stoic as he stands from his mother’s hold and brushes off his thighs. He’s turning towards the car before Killian and Emma can even stand.

~~~~

Corrine, as emotionally intelligent as she is, keeps asking everyone what’s wrong. Emma tries making grilled cheese for dinner, hoping her favorite comfort food will entice Henry, but he stays on the couch and doesn’t say a word. She hardly touches her own, neither does Killian, and Corrine wonders aloud why everyone is so sad.

“We’re okay, baby,” Emma tells her softly, running her curled finger down her cheek and giving her a soft smile. “Don’t you worry.”

“Momma, Henny’s okay?” she asks through a mouth full of grilled cheese.

“He…” she starts, glancing over to Killian briefly. They’ve talked in the past about how they don’t wish to lie to her despite her young age, but this is too much for her to understand. “He’ll be okay, Coco. He just needs some time.”

She nods as if Emma’s words make complete sense to her and takes a giant swig of the chocolate milk she shouldn’t be drinking.

“What did you do with Mimi and Ollie today, love?” Killian asks her, trying to maintain an air of positivity for her.

“I play,” she answers. “I dance.”

“Did Ollie enjoy dancing with you?”

“No.”

Emma snorts softly, a genuine smile gracing her features in response to their humorous child. “No? He doesn’t like One Direction?”

She begins to pout, shooting him eyes filled with such pathetic sadness that it pulls at his heartstrings. “No, Baby Shark.”

“Ugh,” Emma says. “No Baby Shark in this house. We’ll stick to one direction, right Coco?”

“Mom,” they hear from the entrance of the kitchen, and each of them turn towards the source of the voice.

“Hey kid, hungry?”

“No thanks,” he says softly, his voice somber but slightly less angry than before. “I was hoping you could take me to… to my mom’s house. I have some stuff there that I want to move over here.”

She pauses and then turns to face him entirely. “Of course, Henry. Whenever you're ready.”

Killian and Corrine spend the evening together while Emma takes Henry to Regina’s. They were apart for nearly a month, aside from the few hours he could see her per day, so he’s happy to have the opportunity to reconnect with her. Her favorite activity to promote such reconnection is dancing.

Her favorite band has a variety of upbeat songs that he can easily hop around to, picking her up and bouncing her on his hip as she laughs and shrieks. At a certain point, she ends up in only her shirt and diaper, her hair having fallen out of the tiny updo it was in and landing in a wild mane around her face as she holds her fists in front of her and jumping to the beat of the song that plays loudly over the stereo.

“Hi momma!” she screams when Emma walks through the door, running for her at full speed and crashing into her legs.

“Hi!” Emma responds excitedly, the grin across her face as she picks her up squeezing at his heart. Henry walks in behind her with a box of items, smiling softly at Corrine and heading towards the stairs.

“Turning in, lad?” he asks.

“Yeah,” he answers, pausing briefly and sighing. “I’m just… I just wanna go to bed.”

“Aye. Well…” he starts, but is unsure of how to continue. He feels as if he should say something, but isn’t sure what he needs in this moment.

“We’ll be here, kid,” Emma supplies, simple and encouraging as he nods and heads up the stairs.

“Momma hugs Duddy now,” Corrine says, pointing towards Killian while still in Emma’s arms.

She laughs lightly, tickling Corrine’s bare thigh and asking, “oh, she does, does she?”

“Yes. No kiss,” she insists.

“I can’t kiss your mummy?”

“No!”

He wraps the two of them in a tight squeeze, sandwiching Corrine between her parents and sneaking in a quick kiss against Emma’s temple.

She turns to him and gives an indignant look, saying, “Coco said no kissing!”

“No, Duddy! No kisses for Momma, only for Coco.”

“My mistake.” He kisses her plump cheek and is rewarded in kind with a bright giggle. “Time for bed now, lass. I think we’ve done enough dancing for one lifetime.”

“We dance, momma.”

“Aye, we danced, momma. Next we’ll be learning a waltz.”

“Walls.”

Emma laughs, hiking the child up higher on her hip as she tries hard to settle her hair, though seemingly finding it impossible. “You know how to waltz?”

“First rule of dancing,” he says, taking her free hand and leading her towards the stairs once the music is shut off, “pick a partner who knows what they're doing.”

She gives him a look that he can’t quite read before leading him up the stairs and providing him with a lovely view of her ass along the way.

~~~~

Her thighs squeeze his hips tightly as she bounces above him, her breasts suspended tantalizingly over him as her nails dig into his shoulders. Her quiet pants and whispered moans drive him to harden his grip on her hip, sitting up slightly and using his blunt wrist to press into her back and pull her closer to him. She wraps her arms under his, hugging herself tightly to him and letting out a cry into his ear as he bends his knees up to deepen his thrusts into her.

“Don’t stop,” she practically begs, clinging to him as if her life depends on it. “Fuck.”

“So good, love,” he agrees as the coil in the base of his stomach tightens, almost ready to snap. “Gods, you feel so perfect. You’re perfect.”

“I love you,” she says through a strangled cry as she clenches around him and finally lets go; finally gives him permission to do the same.

He holds her so tightly that he doesn’t think she can breathe, but she doesn’t complain. Panting into his ear, her nails still digging crescents into his back, she hugs him close.

“I love you too,” he says once they’ve both caught their breath. She hums in contentment and kisses his neck before lifting herself from him and letting out a soft grunt as he slips out of her.

She spends a moment in the bathroom before returning, learning from last time and tossing his sleeping pants at him before dressing herself and crawling in. “You alright, love?” he asks, to which she shrugs.

“Where did Regina end up?”

“The asylum. We were able to use the cuff that blocks her magic before she awoke.”

She stays silent for a few moments, continuing her ministrations through the hair on his chest as if it’s soothing her.

“Today sucked,” she finally says.

“Aye, it did. I’m sorry.”

She sighs, tucking herself closer to him and resting her head on his chest. “Not your fault.”

“I’m not saying it is; I’m saying I’m sorry that you lost someone important to you.”

Squeezing her arm over his chest a bit tighter, she nuzzles her nose into a patch of the hair on his chest. “Yeah… you’re not mad, are you? About… I mean, I know my reaction was a little—”

“Emma,” he interrupts, “I could never be angry with you for something like that. No matter what happened, Bae was someone important to you.”

She sniffles a bit, moving to wipe a tear from her cheek before saying, “it feels weird. I can’t believe he’s gone.” He hums in agreement as he runs his hand up and down along her spine, occasionally combing gently through her hair. “After all the shit he put us through, I’ll admit that there was a time that—” she chokes on her own words, needing to take a deep breath before continuing. “Sometimes I wished he would just go away and not come back. But I didn’t want… I didn’t want Henry to lose his dad.”

“I know what you mean, Swan.” He rolls them gently so they’re facing one another, her leg tucked between his knees. He runs his fingers through her hair and down her cheek as he says, “it’s alright to be confused by this. Despite all that he did, he still loved you, in his own way. And he loved your son. He just had a horrible way of showing it.”

She nods against his forehead, her nose rubbing against his own making him unable to resist kissing her softly. “I know you’re right.”

“Did the lad say much earlier?”

She shrugs. “Not really. All he said was that he’s okay but he wants to live with us. I think he needs time.” He nods in understanding as she continues. “What he saw today— what he saw his own mother do… I don’t know how to help him live with that.”

“You're his mother, Emma, and I know you know what’s best for him. We’ll be here for him, however he needs us.”

“Yeah,” she nods.

“Perhaps a few visits with the Cricket would be prudent as well.”

“Probably.”

He kisses the tip of her nose, the skin cold against his lips, and says, “sleep, darling. We can deal with everything tomorrow.”

“Love you,” she says as she drifts off. He follows closely behind, sleeping soundly with her in his arms.

~~~~

~~~~

[white-collar-lawmen-and-conmen]

Bite (Part Three)

Summary: Peter’s team is invited onto a big case in which their involvement will have serious consequences. (Part 3/3)

Word Count: 5,077

Warning: Some violence and not-so-subtle PTSD

Additional Note: Some prison slang is used in this chapter and explained here for clarity. Shiv = stab, smokes = cigarettes, “a dime” = ten years.

           “I want you to know that I didn’t intend for this to happen,” he said finally, lifting his head. His usually kissable lips were frowning. “And I tried resisting.”

           That made you frown. What was there to resist? Coercion? “Resisting what?” You asked him worriedly.

           That worry only increased tenfold when he answered, “Blood.”

~~~ Bite ~~~

           Of the hundreds, even thousands of things that you knew Neal could have said, what he actually did say hadn’t even made the list – but it sure was eerie, and if his goal was actually to pull your leg, set you off-kilter, then he had succeeded without a doubt.

           “Blood?” You echoed, recoiling and leaning away from him in your chair. His eyes darted briefly to your shoulders as they moved back before he looked to your face again, his mouth tightening unhappily. “What the hell, Neal, I’m being serious!”

           “So am I,” he responded, looking momentarily hurt. “I told you, I didn’t want this.”

           You still didn’t understand. “This – this being what?”

           Neal licked his dry lips and looked over your shoulder, his eyes fixated on a spot on the wall. “This goes back to the Brady case,” he admitted. You leaned back towards him, both to hear his quiet speech and because you had realized you’d moved away. No matter how unsettled you were, you knew your friend would never hurt you and there was no need to put distance in the way. “The last operation.”

           “The one that failed.” You remembered it well. The concern and fear when your team stopped responding, the anger towards Brady, and the sympathy and worry for Neal and Peter, who had both been through an awful experience. Not to mention the paranoia and distrust that had rocked the office in the immediate aftermath. “Someone had tipped him off.”

           “No,” Neal corrected you quickly, and you looked to his eyes sharply. How could he know what had happened? Not even OPR had managed to figure out why the operation took a nosedive. “There wasn’t a mole. Brady had already made us himself from the second Peter went to scare him.”

           How? Peter had worked many high-profile cases, but was careful to stay out of the spotlight, and the bureau had liaisons who did their best to make sure agents didn’t get their pictures out in the media. Did they miss one? Was that how Brady recognized Peter? But then, how had he tied Neal to Peter, and why risk going to prison when he could have simply cut ties with Nick Halden and fled the country?

           “If he knew it was a setup, then why did he call you back to his office?” You questioned.

           Neal sighed softly. “Spitefulness. Pettiness. Malice.” You took in a breath as you understood. It wouldn’t have been enough for Brady to just not fall into the trap. He had to make the feds regret trying to trick him. Neal looked down at his hands and stroked the thumb of one hand firmly against the palm of the other while he kept calm and recounted what had happened. “Peter could have been a cop doing his job. Me, I was clearly undercover, manipulating him.”

           You cut in with another question. “What I don’t get is how he knew you weren’t Nick.” You were very careful in the bureau to keep the identities of Neal Caffrey and Nick Halden separate. “How did he make the connection?”

           Neal hesitated and he looked down again, his beautiful blue eyes training on the repetitive movement of his hands. You decided to give him a count, and if he didn’t answer in ten seconds, you were going to say his name in a stern tone. You only got to eight before he looked up, mouth open to talk. He stopped himself short, swallowed, and turned his head to look towards the glass doors before he started again.

           “He knew I wasn’t who I said because he knew Peter and I had been spending time together.” Neal was shifty in a way you hadn’t seen before. There was his usual fashion of shiftiness, quick and deflective, when he was trying to get away with a lie of omission, particularly when he had come to a case lead through not-so-scrupulous ways. Then there was this – shifty out of discomfort, unease, like he felt squirmy just for thinking about it. “When Peter went to his office, Brady could smell me.”

           Neal stopped, giving you time to think, to catch up, and to understand. You looked at him and he was still facing away from you, so you just saw the hardness in his jaw as he gritted his teeth.

           “Neal, we aren’t dogs, people can’t smell other people,” you exasperatedly started to say, but slowed down. This wasn’t just Neal trying to spin a story. It was his freedom on the table, and if he wanted to lie then he could be much more convincing. It was true that people couldn’t smell other people – but maybe Brady wasn’t a person, wasn’t a human.

           Blood.

           “No,” you whispered, feeling petrified. Had Brady-?

           “People can’t,” Neal agreed softly, looking to his hands again. You could see his knuckles whitening as he pressed into his palm harder, relieving his stress and anxiety with pressure. “Vampires can.”

~~~ Bite ~~~

           Something had been off from the start, but Neal didn’t want to be hasty and pull the plug on a good operation. Though he was guilty of pressing Ruiz’s buttons, Neal understood the agent’s desperation to catch this shady businessman and wanted to do what he could to hold Brady accountable for murder. Brady didn’t have any extra muscle with him, nor did he change the meeting place to somewhere without people in shouting distance, so Neal thought that even if he was twitchy, he wasn’t completely sold on his paranoia. As long as he was careful, he would get out unscathed.

           It didn’t take long for Brady to bring up Peter, which surprised Neal slightly. Maybe the man was jumpier than he had thought. Neal was being cautious and calculating, but on the outside he made sure to be flippant and unruffled, like a pestering FBI agent was neither new nor troubling. Brady didn’t take the offered bait in Neal’s response, though, and instead asked a very pointed question.

           “And what experience would you happen to have with the feds, Nick?” Brady had asked testily, staring down at Neal from where he was sitting on the edge of his own desk. The man’s hazel eyes looked dark and thin around the wide pupils, and Neal decided right then that it was too close of a call. There was too much excitement in his system for it to be a hypothetical question, and a person couldn’t dilate their eyes on will.

           He almost missed the businessman’s hand moving into a desk drawer while formulating a response. “I’ve met a few,” Neal replied evenly, scowling, in character, not appreciating the insinuation that he cooperated with feds. “But none were a very hard sell.” He did see the motion as Brady took his hand out of the desk drawer, holding onto nothing. He was curious what it had been for, but mostly he was grateful that Brady hadn’t taken out a gun.

           “Is that so?” Brady asked, easing himself off the desk. He put his back to Neal, and while he wasn’t looking, Neal let out a slow breath, sure to keep it silent so that his relief wasn’t heard. The company founder circled his furniture and Neal willed him to stay on that side of it and keep the three-foot piece between them.

           “It is,” Neal said, cocking his head to portray Nick’s (earned) arrogance. He just had to wait another thirty seconds, maximum. The phrase ‘hard sell’ was the safe word. There would be at least one, but probably two or three, agents storming in before Brady had a chance to even go for the gun safe Neal knew was behind that framed picture on the wall.

           “Mm. Funny.” Brady commented coolly, staring at Neal like he thought the conman would be easily intimidated. It was almost insulting, really – if a good stare were all it took, Neal would still be a starving street scammer. “Because, see, I know from a reliable source that you’re all buddy-buddy with Agent Burke.”

           It was truly a test of self-control not to give away the mounting anxiety. Neal played it off while counting down in his head. “Sounds to me like you need to get better sources,” he snarked. Twenty seconds.

           “Based on what you’re saying, I can’t trust anyone these days.” Brady just sounded angrier now. Neal wondered if maybe he shouldn’t have just made a move to excuse himself and taken his chances, but it was too late now, and Brady had less than twenty seconds left.

           “It’s a very disappointing world we live in,” Neal hinted stoically. Fifteen seconds.

           Brady opened up a desk drawer and Neal shifted his feet slightly, prepared to get up if the businessman took out a firearm. “Not even myself,” Brady growled lowly, and Neal did hear a growl under the words, like he was in the room with an angry bear and not just a slighted crook.

           “What are you saying?” Neal challenged him coolly, and immediately regretted it, because Brady took out a long dagger with a curved scythe on one side. Suddenly, ten seconds seemed like an awfully long time to wait, so the conman decided to give his team an incentive to hurry up. “That’s an awfully big knife you have there,” he casually remarked while standing quickly from his seat.

           Brady shut the drawer by hitting it with his knee. “I could smell you on him the minute he walked into my office,” the man hissed, a low, animalistic growl emanating from his throat between words. “You’re working for them. You came in here thinking you could take me? I’m the one doing the taking.”

           “Who said anything about fighting?” Neal put his hands up to show that he was unarmed and harmless while backing away. The man was inching around the desk and Neal was still counting two seconds in his head, but now he couldn’t afford to wait patiently. “Listen to yourself. This is insane!” He laughed nervously. Anyone would be nervous when someone was angrily threatening them with a knife that looked like a cross between a dagger and a filleter. “I’m in cahoots with him just because we wear the same cologne?”

           “It wasn’t cologne!” Brady shouted, his forehead turning pink as it crept up his ears and the side of his neck. He took a sudden, lunging step forward and Neal dropped his arms, pivoting on his heel to sprint for the door.

           He hadn’t cleared three paces before a hand caught the back of his shirt and yanked him by the collar. The pressure of his tie knot yanking up into his throat made him cough and splutter while being manhandled towards the left wall. The artist stumbled, feeling an ankle slip and twist, and Brady, who had somehow moved twice as fast as Neal, threw the younger man to the ground with strength not remotely suggested by his frame.

           A kick to the side had Neal on his hands and knees, groaning through gritted teeth and trying to focus on the way out. It had been long enough. There were three agents already in the suite – if they weren’t here yet, then it had to be either they couldn’t hear or they had been trapped, too. Neal prayed for the former. If they heard radio silence for too long then they would know something had happened. Wouldn’t they? Right?

           “It’s not a bad plan,” Brady chuckled, seeming to be over his sudden rage. The growling sound had stopped. “Might’ve worked, too, if I didn’t have this extra ace.” He moved his right hand with the dagger.

           Neal flinched back, ducking his head to protect his face, waiting for the sting of a cut or the pierce of a stab. Neither came, and the apprehension had his hands trembling on the low-height rug. He looked up despite his better judgment and dropped his jaw in shock. Brady had sliced open his own wrist and was letting his blood drip down his hand.

           The man gave him a nasty smile when he saw Neal’s surprise. “This?” He waved the knife carelessly. “It isn’t for you. This is.” He put out his bleeding hand near Neal’s head and he cringed away, keeping far from the blood.

           “What kind of sick game are you playing?” Neal panted, eyes going to the office door, begging it to open. He didn’t care who was on the other side – just someone sane. Someone who would help him.

           “Don’t be such a priss,” Brady snapped irritably. “You’ll have to get used to blood.” He put the dagger slowly down towards Neal’s right side, holding the blade uncomfortably close to the artist’s cheek. Neal gritted his teeth. “This’ll be for you if you don’t. Make the better choice, Nick. Survive.” Neal didn’t answer. He didn’t know what he was supposed to be choosing and didn’t want to give Brady the satisfaction of knowing that he was ignorant and confused. He just stared down at Brady’s hard, polished shoes. “Come on,” Brady coaxed lowly, the growl beginning again. “Play along. It’s eat or be eaten.”

           Neal swore his heart doubled in pace right then as he understood, no further questioning necessary. It was all lining up. It was impossible. It was obvious. The sense of smell, the growl, the speed, the strength, the blood. What did he want more? To stay human or stay alive? Did he even fully know what it meant, to be something other than human in this time? Surely the last time a person made this choice, it was in the days of Salem.

           “Tick, tock.” Brady’s voice had a chilling edge that Neal had only heard come from Adler before. The cold flat of the dagger was pressed into Neal’s shoulder and the clinging drops of Brady’s blood soaked into his suit jacket. “It’s been a long time since I was this generous. I don’t like being ignored.”

           Life or death. Half-life or death. Whichever it was, it was something other than death. Neal didn’t want to die. He had the home he was making for himself during his work-release, and he intended to keep it once he was free. The entire world was waiting for him when he was free. He had friends, good ones, people he loved, that he wanted to see again. Neal didn’t understand why anyone would ever choose death, so truly, regardless of what Brady said, it had never been a real choice to begin with. He had to accept that help wasn’t coming. Not this time.

           Neal didn’t choose to live. He had to live, and he did what he had to for survival. Brady kept the knife on his shoulder with the scythe turned towards his neck, just in case he got any ideas.

           How much? How long? He felt choked by the thick blood in his throat. “Stop,” he pleaded in a cough, muffled by the vampire’s split skin. “No, no.” He started to turn his head but a hand grabbed his hair and yanked him back while the wrist at his mouth pushed harder on his lips. The pain lancing through his skull made his eyes water. The flat of the knife pressed harder into Neal’s shoulder, reminding him how close the blade was to his throat, forcing his obedience.

           As he drank more blood, Neal felt increasingly sick. Like he was forcing down spoiled milk, his stomach twisted and clenched. His face felt hot. This was supposed to turn him? It felt more like poison. The cramping was so bad that it made him lightheaded and he could almost stop tasting the iron on his tongue. The slamming open of the door didn’t register at all in the side of his vision, but Neal did hear Peter’s voice from far away.

           “Drop the knife!” His partner was screaming. The knife pressed harder into Neal’s shoulder and the artist felt the hand leave his hair. “Drop it!”

           The wrist was moved at last. His lips still felt wet. Neal swallowed and gagged, shutting his eyes tightly and pressing his hand into his abdomen in pain.

           “Should’ve known you’d come back for more, Burke. You don’t know when to quit,” the vampire snarled above him.

           The pressure at his shoulder was released and suddenly the legs were gone from in front of him. Neal slouched forward, barely catching himself with his free hand. The colors were blurring and turning feverishly bright. Whatever Brady did whilst Neal was staring sickly at the carpet, Peter didn’t like it; the gunshot sounded like a bomb, like another exploding jet, right in his ears. Neal screamed as he collapsed onto his side. It was too loud. Too loud. No more bombs. He was so hot. The white of the walls was so hot. It all burned his eyes.

           Peter’s voice was angry – no, well, yes, angry but also scared – and there was another bomb right behind him. Neal sobbed, curling in as much as he could to protect himself. His insides felt like they were on fire and he could see, again, the flames of the jet on the backs of his eyelids. He thought he could smell smoke. Explosives.

           All he could think was how it was happening again. He had lost Kate and now he was losing the people he loved, again, in more explosions. They took Y/N, they must have, that must have been the first – now second – bomb. And he couldn’t hear Peter anymore, not since the second – third overall – why did this keep happening -

           “Neal. Neal!”

           A hand shook his shoulder, digging in as tight as claws. “Peter,” Neal gasped, barely able to breathe through the pain and the grief.

           “It’s me, buddy.” His partner’s face was suddenly there and Neal realized he’d opened his eyes. When had he closed them? Peter was swimming. His skin was all bright. Something was very wrong and even though his brain felt like it was baking, Neal knew the problem was with himself. “Keep your eyes on me, okay? Help is coming.”

~~~ Bite ~~~

           Vampires were largely thought to be extinct. If they had survived the periods of hunting and slaughter, then they had opted to keep to themselves in remote locations. Brady must have been one of the few left, and somehow slipped under the radar for decades to avoid being detected. That explained why he was so hard to find a history on. While they were best known (and most feared) for relying on the blood of others to survive, most folk stories said they had superhumanly keen senses. Some reported abnormal speed and strength, but those accounts were relatively new to the folklore; whether or not they were true was anyone’s guess.

           Except for Neal, who didn’t need to guess. Who had learned, firsthand, how quickly those keen senses had set in, and who had torturously learned while his mind was suggestible, terrified, and hazy from the illness and agony of an unwanted mutation. You couldn’t even imagine how horrifying must have been to smell the gunpowder, hear the explosions so intensely, and attach a feverish heat to the brightness of the colors. It was no wonder Neal had called out in the following days.

           “Help did come,” Neal murmured, not meeting your eyes. “But I don’t remember much after that. My memory’s in and out until a couple days afterwards.”

           “So… you’re a vampire now?” Was the first thing you quietly asked him. Neal looked at you and nodded once, jaw tight, eyes looking dark. You couldn’t imagine how angry, scared, cheated he must feel for having this virus shoved onto him. “So that means you need blood,” you continued, talking through your train of thought. Neal had seemed to rebound awfully fast between the first and second weeks after the incident – maybe because he had stopped starving. “The prostitutes,” you realized. “You’re not paying them for sex, you’re paying them for blood.”

           “There’s mutually-assured destruction if they report me,” Neal claimed almost defensively. His shoulders were still open but you could see how badly he wanted to just turn away and fold his arms protectively around himself. “To say how they know what I am, they’d have to admit I hired them. Sex work is still criminal. And, because of their work, most of them get screened every three months.”

           “But you don’t know what they’ve caught in the meantime, or what they might do to you or tell other people,” you said, dismayed. Neal was putting himself at risk in many different ways, and the worst part was it wasn’t his regular brand of headlong overconfidence. He truly did not feel he had any alternatives. “Neal, you could have told us, we’re your friends, we could have helped.”

           “Helped how?” Neal scoffed so harshly that it sounded like it hurt his throat. “This isn’t reversible. I have to live with this for the rest of my life. If I told, and the bureau decided that being this thing makes me a liability, or a public safety issue, then I go back to prison. Being a snitch and a vampire? The first guy to shiv me would win free smokes for a dime. I wanted my friends. I hate what I have to do. None of it was a gamble I could afford to take.”

           You looked down for a minute, understanding. It hurt that he thought his team, you included, might do anything that put him at risk. The last thing you wanted was to see him in prison. He had to have been scared. Upset. Angry. Frightened for his safety and his future, and his health. And what was he going to do if he couldn’t afford a hooker’s prices every week? You were so hurt that he didn’t trust you enough to come to you after you had been so close to taking that step into being more than friends, but as you tried to see it from his perspective, you couldn’t fault him for it.

           “I wanted my friend, too,” you admitted to him, looking up guiltily. If you had pressed sooner, maybe you could have convinced him to tell you everything weeks ago.

           Neal’s face softened in response as he finally loosened up. Strands of dark hair tumbled out of his coif and into his face as he shook his head gently and reached for you, putting a hand on the side of your thigh and leaning towards your chair.

           “It isn’t your fault,” he promised you in spite of his frown. “No one would have guessed. How could you? Vampires are supposed to have died out. I didn’t want to risk myself, and I didn’t want to scare you.”

           “You wouldn’t have scared me,” you promised immediately. There wasn’t even a thought behind it. Neal had never, could never scare you; this you had known for what felt like forever. Even when you finally connected the pieces and knew what he was telling you, there hadn’t been fear in your system. Just shock, and fear on his behalf, and so much sympathy that you almost cried.

           “I scared myself,” he disagreed, implying that you would have been scared, too. He stroked his fingers down to your knee before pulling his hand off. “That first week, everything hurt so badly I could barely speak. Everything was so much brighter and so much louder. Nothing I cooked satisfied the hunger, and then I had to spend eight hours a day surrounded by dozens of bodies of fresh blood.” The conman swallowed hard while thinking about it. “It would be like if you hadn’t eaten in days, then sat for hours in a steakhouse and couldn’t order anything.”

           It should have been chilling to hear Neal compare his coworkers – yourself presumably included – to steaks, but oddly, it wasn’t. You couldn’t pull a Dahmer comparison out of your hat and you still didn’t feel remotely threatened. However desperate he may have been, Neal had never caved. He had never hurt anyone. You had always loved his pacifism and no matter how his biology may have changed, his recount only seemed to prove that his self, Neal, had not.

           “Every time I think I know how strong you are,” you told him, amazed and impressed. “It turns out that I’m still underestimating you.” To be so hungry and so in pain, and to keep to himself for fear, and still be able to function in the office? He had been quiet, sullen, out of character, but functional. That was a feat.

           Neal’s eyes widened just a touch before he blinked and tried to reign in his surprise. The more you talked, now, the more you could see the tension draining from his body. The negative reaction he had anticipated failed to occur, and the artist was beginning to see that there was no need for all his anxiety. His shoulders and back were less straight and he sat more comfortably, more openly, to continue conversing.

           “Ah…”

           Unsure how to respond to your compliment, Neal looked at the matching mugs of coffee still on the table. You now wondered why he had brewed himself one when he had already said that he needed blood to be sated, but then again, Neal had always been a creature of comforts, not just necessity.

           With his left hand, he rubbed the back of his neck. The informant had to think for a moment and figure out where to resume his story. “Right, well…” Neal looked so young with relief and uncertainty on his face. It took a lot of self-control not to just reach out, cup his cheeks, and kiss his forehead with a promise that everything would be okay. He cleared his throat. “At the end of that first week, I realized I couldn’t put it off any further. Nothing was working, and I don’t think I could forgive myself if my stubbornness and my hunger meant I lost control and hurt someone. I found a streetwalker for discretion, and…”

           You put your hand up there. He was clearly uncomfortable with what he had resorted to, and you had already covered his means of sustenance. Neal moved around in his seat to reposition himself.

           “They’re not all willing to be bitten,” Neal said warily. “But someone I talked to knew a friend who charges extra for people who like blood.” You raised your eyebrows. Something told you that the kind of work she charged extra for was different from what Neal was asking, but at least he had found a source. “She was willing, and she’s who you saw last week, too.”’

           “I’m so sorry you were alone,” you told him, reaching out yourself. Neal didn’t pull away from your hand, but he eyed it until you had been touching his arm for a few seconds without moving. “But you were alone. You aren’t now.”

           “I’m used to keeping secrets… keeping to myself… because of my choices.” The artist lifted his head and looked up your arm to your face. He chose his words carefully and spoke haltingly, worrying his bottom lip between phrases. “I’m used to choosing a guarded life... there’s no choice in this.” His eyes looked so deep and so sad. “But I can choose not to bring you down with me.”

           Before you could object that Neal would never “bring you down”, as he put it, or even say that he still had choices he could make to keep his life his own, Neal looked down from you and his shoulders shuddered noticeably while he inhaled an uneven breath. He had to work hard for it, and couldn’t keep it, and had to try again, keeping everything he was feeling held at bay long enough to keep up his strong face and hold a level tone. You wanted to surge forward and wrap your arms around him and hold on until sunrise, and you equally wanted to scold him for acting like a martyr. Before you could choose which to do, he looked up again and his expressive eyes were filled with water that just hadn’t fallen yet. The air was punched out of your sails by that vulnerable, lost look. It was the look of a man who had had everything ripped away from him.

           “I wanted our later,” Neal whispered sadly with a quaver.

           “Later.”

           “I’m going to hold you to that.”

           If Neal thought all it took was one tragically traumatic, life-changing event to rip that away, then he must not realize how serious you had been when you acknowledged his promise and made it your own. You couldn’t fix everything that was broken, but you weren’t leaving him alone. He had made a promise, one he still wanted to keep, and like hell were you going to let him decide for you that the promise needed to be broken.

           His health, safety, security – the two of you were clever, resourceful people. You would find a way. As for his found home, though he thought he was helplessly losing everything, Neal had every right to the life he had earned and he was surrounded by people who cared for him more deeply than he realized.

           You squeezed his arm gently while taking his other hand. Eyes on his, you said solemnly, “I still do,” and forced his hand open so that you could interlock your fingers with his. “And you know what?”

           Neal swallowed and his voice scratched in his throat while he struggled to hold back the tears. “What?”

           You stood up from your chair, took a step to his, and bent down to his level. Neal lifted his head as you moved to follow your actions and when he blinked up at you, his eyes cleared and teardrops swiftly rolled down his cheeks. Ignoring them, you tilted your head to press your forehead tenderly to his. Neal blinked again before shutting his eyes and tightening his grip on your fingers.

           “Later is now,” you told him quietly.

[gwenore]

The Cursed book. Chapter 13

Chapter 13: The demon offers Belle to speak with the man that he is possessing. 

Summary: When Belle finds a strange book in an abandoned library she has no idea what hell it would unleash upon the small town.

---

There was a deafening silence after the demon had said its words, none of the humans aware of the situation able to even speak.

Emma was absolutely stunned at what she had just seen… realizing that everything Neal had told her was true… and the horrifying implication of that fact…

Belle was still shivering, not even feeling the globs of saliva on her from that… thing… as there was a shock of having seen the man that the demon held captive. That was the only word she could really think about using…

Captive.

She could also not imagine the horror of having something else use your body in any way it wished, leaving you with no control… and yet… that was reality for this man… and had been for…

Centuries?

That had to be some definition of hell…

Meanwhile Neal just looked… broken…

After all these centuries… believing that he had been doing good in keeping the demon locked up… that he was actively saving people. The reason he had to live for so damn long…

It had been useless…

Everything he had done was because this demon had played along… like some… game. It was like when he was young and he had pretended to tie his father to his chair and that he could not move. Of course he could get out, but his father had played along… even used the time to get a nap in while his son was distracted with being proud of having been able to trap him.

All those things that he had done… had been for naught.

Sure… in their game he had most likely saved plenty of lives, but in this moment, he even doubted that fact.

It could be that the demon had feasted on countless lives that he was not aware of… simply pretending to be in the book.

After all… it could alter perceptions so… could he even trust his own mind?

Everything he had believed… everything he had experienced… every memory…

Was ANY of it true?

He felt like he was about to throw up.

The demon glanced around at them, almost as if it did not understand their shocked reactions.

“Well…” Rumplestiltskin said as he glanced around, blinking slightly, before he let out a long breath. “How about we take a break… and meet for dinner later?”

“Dinner?” Neal said with a low tone.

“You have to eat Bae, and do not worry, I am on a non-human diet. Belle also has an issue with that,” the demon cocked his head slightly.

“For how long?” Neal simply asked.

“Well…” Rumplestiltskin paused a bit, shrugging his shoulders gently. “Let us just take it one day at the time.”

“How can we even trust anything you say?” Neal pressed on. The demon let out a long sigh.

“I suppose you cannot,” he then said with a soft tone. “But you need rest… as I said, me not possessing your father’s body is really not good for you and we are both concerned about your well being. Could you not at least calm his mind by going to rest?”

Neal clearly was blinking back tears with the demon mentioning how his father worried, making himself swallow nervously.

“I…” he muttered.

“There is a reservation at the inn for you and your girlfriend. I think you have to have a conversation with your girlfriend as… well… she is looking a tad shaken… I don’t think she has closed her mouth since she saw me,” Rumplestiltskin then continued, pointing at Emma who closed her mouth still staring at him wide eyed.

Neal simply nodded his head, swallowing nervously.

“Now that is solved, how about we meet back here around… six? Then we can decide on where to eat? Sounds good?” the demon did not even wait for a response, turning towards Belle, wrapping his arm around her waist.

“How about we go home in the meantime?” he grinned towards her. “You have a little something… just stand still…”

He pulled out his handkerchief to dry a bit of the saliva off her cheek.

“Sorry about that… the whole mass of teeth and no lips has the consequence of… well… I am sure you are well aware,” he gave a bit of an apologetic grin, though Belle thought it sounded like he was more proud of it than anything.

She took a look back at Neal and Emma… it was clear they needed time so she simply nodded.

“Let us… let us go home then…” she did not address his words, simply walked towards her home, the demon eagerly following her.

Emma was just about able to break free from her stupor to rest her hand on Neal’s shoulder.

“Hey…” she swallowed nervously. “Are you…”

She did not even finish that sentence, because how could he be? How could he be alright after all of… this?

Neal closed his eyes and simply shook his head.

“No…” he said. “But… let us just… go to that inn… and after that…”

He hid his face and let out a long groan.

“Fuck if I know…”

Emma simply nodded, her mind was still reeling, but even so she could see that Neal was about to collapse.

“Yeah…” she simply nodded, wrapping her arm around his and they started to walk towards the inn.

  Belle exited the shower, her washing machine softly humming in the background, as she proceeded to brush her brown hair out.

She had wondered if washing them was even worth it, or if demon drool just ruined clothes outright.

But… as she liked the outfit… she figured it was worth it…

Unless demon drool also ruined the washing machine…

Belle’s forehead thumped against the mirror before he let out a long sigh.

How she wished that she had never gone to gather up those books… just… forgotten all about the old abandoned library…

She should have known that there was a good reason for it to have been abandoned…

But… would it have changed?

Perhaps the demon would have broken out on its own and… would Storybrooke even exist at this point?

Would this demon even think twice about eating her?

This was terrifying… she really could not believe that she was actually thinking about this…

That all of this was… insane.

She took a deep breath, as she finished getting herself dressed, not knowing how long the demon had the patience for her to be alone.

Her hair was still damp, but she left that to air dry.

Wandering out into the kitchen, she smelled chocolate, seeing that the demon was standing by a pot and stirring softly.

“Want some chocolate dearest?” he looked towards her.

“Um… alright… yeah… that sounds good…” she stuttered.

He gave her a gentle smile, before he nodded his head softly. “Sit down on the couch then, it will be ready in a moment.”

Belle blinked slightly, finding that the demon was being… odd…

But then again… she supposed that she shouldn’t expect anything from the demon at this point. In some way he was truly unpredictable.

Sitting down on the coach she only waited a couple of moments, before the demon came over, placing the largest cup he could find in her cabinet in front of her.

“It is very good,” he encouraged her, as he drank his own… taking no notice that the liquid was burning hot…

Not that Belle really expected demons to take notice of such things…

“You sure you are not hurting… you know… him, by drinking it so hot?” she stuttered forth.

The demon cocked his head slightly, before he let out a low chuckle and shook his head.

“Oh no. Any damage that I do to this body I heal. I mean… you saw the rather unpleasant possession process. If I weren’t able to heal the body… well… I would have killed him the first time I possessed him,” he said.

“But… does he feel pain… even if you don’t?” she asked. Belle had become rather concerned about the fate of the man who had given his body to this demon.

The demon continued to observe her closely.

“How about you speak to him yourself? You do seem to have a lot of questions,” the demon offered.

Belle blinked her eyes confused.

“Uh… you will let me do that?” she stuttered forth.

“Of course, I want you two to get to know each other! I love you, I love him and I love Neal, and my greatest wish is for you to also love each other,” the demon explained. “I have tried to convince him to speak to you, but he was rather ashamed with… well… he has some moral qualms about everything that we have put you through. Don’t be harsh on him, he is a bit shy,”

Belle still was utterly confused.

“Uh… I will be gentle…” she then managed to stutter out nervously.

The demon grinned, as he nodded his head. “I know you will, you are very kind.”

“Thank you… but what about… you know… Neal�� that was pretty rough…” she swallowed nervously.

“Oh… well. That is because he always insists on me exiting the body when they are having a talk… worrying that I will influence his father’s words or pretend to be him and all that…” he made a slight hand movement. “You know what they say, once burnt, twice shy.”

Belle swallowed. “So… not that.”

“No, I will simply… step back for a while and let him speak,” he said. “It doesn’t hurt and since I am still possessing him, it still counts as part of the deal.”

Belle nodded her head. “Alright… that is good… don’t want anyone to be hurt.”

Rumplestiltskin leaned forward and gave her a kiss on her forehead gently.

“So kind,” he praised her with a smile. “Well… I will step out so… speak to you later Belle.”

Belle’s eyes widened as she saw Rumplestiltskin’s body being forced forward and something made its way out of his upper back, from the area between his shoulders to be exact.

It was like a black ooze which grew forth, until it took the features of the demonic face she had seen not long before.

After a few moments more the man took a deep breath as he sat himself up, the demonic growth looking like it had more perched itself on his shoulders, especially with two of its clawed hands resting upon his shoulders.

Belle sat there slack jawed for a moment, before she managed to regain her ability to speak.

“Are you… are you alright?” she stuttered forth.

The possessed man let out a long groan. “I think alright is a very strong word…”

“I… I didn’t expect it would hurt… he said it wouldn’t!” she wondered if she should do something, or if it would just make things worse.

He shook his head. “No… it doesn’t exactly hurt… just… been awhile since I have actually been in control. It honestly takes some getting used to…”

Belle swallowed slightly. “Do you… do you want to go back?”

The man sighed. “I don’t even know… but I figure that trying to hide is no longer an option… I am so sorry Belle… for all that we have done to you…”

Belle firmly shook her head.

“That was not your fault,” she said firmly.

“Perhaps not… but I proceeded to hide and I didn’t do more to stop it…” he put his head in his hands.

Belle bit her lip before she reached out towards him and allowed her hand to rest upon his shoulders… even if she was careful not to touch the demon itself.

“I don’t blame you…” she whispered softly.

“I was not just some… passenger either… I too found you… beautiful… I was drawn to you and… I don’t know how much that affected… everything…” he still did not dare to look at her.

Belle was not entirely sure about how she should think about all of this, but then determinedly shook her head.

“I still don’t blame you still… after all… if your thoughts influenced the demon… then you have saved my life… made it not eat me the moment I was foolish enough to let it out of that book… I might very well be alive because of you,” she pointed out.

The man blinked his eyes slightly.

“You are much too kind…” he then said in a low voice.

“I wouldn’t think too highly of me if I were you… but I still think that we have plenty to talk about…” she gave him a hesitant smile.

“Go ahead… ask me any question you want, I owe you that much at least,” he glanced towards her.

Belle had a million questions running through her mind, until her mind finally settled on one:

“What is your name?”

[wistfulcynic]

Their Way By Moonlight: A Day in the Life, Part 2 (Chapter 15)

For @thisonesatellite​​ and @ohmightydevviepuu​​, and I hope you are not too drunk (and) or jet lagged to enjoy it ❤️❤️❤️

In which efforts to break the curse continue. Henry has an important meeting and reunites some old friends, Captain Book begins, and we learn more about the subtle knife. 

SUMMARY: A new curse has fallen on Storybrooke and this time Emma is trapped inside it, deliberately separated from Henry and anyone else who might  help her break it. But what no one knows –including her own cursed self– is that she and Killian have the ability to share their dreams, and are working together in secret to find a way to break the curse and free everyone from a new and dangerous foe.

Rating: M

AO3

-

A Day in the Life, Part Two:

Henry’s third stop on his busy Saturday was the pawn shop. It was just as he remembered it, or at least as much as anything in this Bizarro World version of Storybrooke could be as he remembered. The sign above the door still read ‘Mr Gold’, and inside the shop itself was still cluttered with wondrous and mysterious things. It had been dusty and dank and somewhat grim when Henry first returned to it three weeks earlier but now was much cleaner and better organised, brighter, and welcoming in a way that it certainly had never been before. 

The front door was unlocked and Henry went right in. “Hi Mr Cassidy!” he called out as he closed it behind him. 

“Hey, Henry,” came his father’s voice from the back. “Be right there.” 

“Okay!” Henry looked around as he waited, peering curiously into the display cases and trying not to think too hard about where everything in them had come from. Despite all the improvements, the fact that the pawn shop was stocked with stolen things was still pretty creepy in his opinion. He hoped that after the curse broke Neal would give them back to their rightful owners and not hoard them for his own gain the way Mr Gold had. 

Henry hoped for a lot of things from Neal after the curse broke.

It worried him a bit, if he was honest, wondering what was going to happen to them—to all of them, really—after the curse. He and Neal had spent so little actual time together that Henry wasn’t sure how much of his image of his father was real and how much was wishful thinking. Killian had told him loads of stories of “Bae” as a boy, and Emma, once they got their memories back in New York, had finally told him the truth about the watches and giving birth to him in jail. But they seemed like such different people, Killian’s Bae and Emma’s Neal, and both were so different from Henry’s impressions of the man he’d met that he felt more confused than ever. At this point he wasn’t even quite sure what he wanted from the man or even what kind of man he hoped Neal would turn out to be. He only knew that he couldn’t turn his back on his own father, not even when that father had abandoned his mother and by extension him. 

(“That’s not entirely fair, lad,” Killian had said a few weeks earlier when they were having lunch together, just the two of them. “He didn’t know you existed. Perhaps if he had, he’d have made a different choice.” 

“Maybe,” Henry replied. “But he still left my mom in jail.” 

“Aye,” Killian agreed. “So he did, and I also find that difficult to forgive. I’m certain he regrets it, though.” 

Henry thought for a moment. “I’m not sure it matters that he regrets it,” he said. “Not if he doesn’t admit it was wrong and try to make up for it. Mom says he never even told her he was sorry.” He looked up at Killian. “Do you think he ever will?” 

Killian took his time answering. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “I don’t know if he will ever understand just how deeply he hurt your mother. Truthfully, I feel I know the man far less than I did the boy. I’d like to believe that Bae is still in there somewhere, but Neal unfortunately seems to be a bit too much like his father.”

“Yeah,” said Henry. “But even Rumplestiltskin did the right thing in the end. He sacrificed himself to save us from Pan. Maybe my father will do the right thing too.” 

“Who’s to say but that he will,” replied Killian. 

Henry thought a bit more, then said firmly, “I’m gonna give him the chance to try.” 

Killian smiled at him, the proud smile that always made Henry feel warm inside. “I think that’s the right decision,” he said. “Everyone deserves a second chance.”)

The curtain separating the front of the shop from the back shifted, and Neal appeared. He smiled at Henry. “Hey, kid, what’s up?” 

“Nothing special. I was just wondering how things are going here?” 

“Good, yeah, good.” Neal smile turned a bit awkward and he ran a hand through his hair. “It’s a learning curve, not gonna lie. But I’m getting the hang of it. Think I’ll be able to open next week.” 

“That’s great!” 

“Yeah. Hope so. Your dad’s been a lot of help, showing me the ropes of how to run a business. Tell him thanks from me, will you?” 

“Sure. Or you could come to dinner with us tonight and do it yourself.” 

“Dinner? What, like, at your house?” 

“Yep! My dad said it was okay if I asked you. He’s making burgers and he always makes too many, and we just thought you might like some company.” 

“Oh.” Neal blinked in confusion, a look Henry had come to realise meant he was thinking about something that would never have occurred to his cursed self on its own. “Um… sure, okay. Thanks.” 

“Cool! It’s above the bookstore. You know where that is, right?” 

“Yeah.” 

“So just ring the bell and we’ll come downstairs to get you. About seven?” 

Neal grinned. “I’ll be there. Thanks, Henry.” He shook his head and his grin shifted into an odd little smile, wistful and slightly sad. 

“What’s wrong?” asked Henry. 

“Oh, nothing, nothing’s wrong. I was just thinking. About how much has changed these last few weeks.” He leaned back against the register, crossing his arms over his chest. “I mean, it’s weird, right, the way those old records just showed up one day in the mayor’s office?”

“Yeah. Very weird.” Henry struggled to keep his face blank.

“I didn’t even know my father owned a pawn shop.” Neal frowned. “I don’t remember much about my father, actually.”  

“That’s probably why you didn’t know,” said Henry. 

“Yeah, probably. Anyway, it’s changed my life, you know. I never wanted to be a janitor, but—” he shrugged “—there wasn’t really anything else I could do. Now I can do this. Some kind of luck, huh?” 

“Oh yeah,” said Henry. “Luck.” And his mom’s magical forgery skills that were second to none. “I’m really glad, Mr Cassidy. I hope you’ll like working here.” 

“Yeah, thanks. I really think I will,” said Neal.

~

“You came to inquire about the subtle knife.” Oisín smiled, leaning back in his chair. “May I see it?” 

Emma huffed in annoyance, reminding herself that he was their best chance to find answers despite his supercilious nature and the supremely irritating way he always knew about things before they happened. She opened Killian’s satchel and took the knife from it.   

Oisín’s face was calm as she carefully removed the knife from the plastic evidence bag where she had kept it wrapped since she’d taken it from the loft, but there was a glint in his eyes that Emma recognised, having seen it in Killian’s on more than one occasion. It was the look of a man about to get his hands on a treasure he never imagined he’d have the chance to touch. She held the knife out to him and he took it almost reverently. 

“It’s extraordinary,” he breathed, letting his fingertips trail along the blade, and Emma couldn’t suppress an eye roll. What was it with men and weapons, she thought. Even the supposedly wise immortal ones were hard for them. 

“What can you tell me about it?” she asked. 

The look he gave her was nearly as sharp as the knife itself. “What do you already know?” 

“Not much. There’s mention of it in a book Henry found, but that was the only reference any of us could uncover. The book said that it was the sharpest blade in existence, and could cut through the fabric of reality, whatever that means.” 

“That is correct,” said Oisín. “The blade of Æsahættr is two-sided, as you can see.” He held the knife up to the the shop’s dusty window, catching the faint light with its two-toned blade. “It was forged of two different metals. This side—” he indicated the shiny edge “—can cut through any substance in any realm, while this one... can cut through the barriers between the realms themselves.” 

“So you’re saying that someone could use this knife to—to cut a portal between two realms?” asked Regina.

“Indeed.” 

Regina and Emma exchanged a look. “So that’s how she did it.” Regina sounded almost awestruck. “That’s how she made the portals.” She shook her head. “That’s—well, it’s terrifying magic.” 

“Terrifying indeed,” said Oisín. “And also extraordinarily dangerous. The energy that divides the realms is dangerously unstable, as well as being very powerful and difficult to breach. Cutting permanent portals into it brings vastly unpleasant consequences. I’d advise you not to attempt it, if there is any other method of realm travel at your disposal.” 

“We don’t need realm travel,” said Emma, just as Regina exclaimed “Permanent portals?”

“Yes, permanent,” Oisín replied. “It is possible to close them but doing so requires a delicacy of touch and a close relationship with the subtle knife, neither of which I believe your sister is capable.”

“That’s probably true,” said Regina, just as Emma exclaimed “A relationship with the knife?”

“Oh yes,” said Oisín, returning his attention to Emma, mirth twinkling in his emerald eyes. “The subtle knife always has a bearer, and though I cannot See who that bearer is, I am certain it is not Zelena.”

“She probably stole it,” said Regina. 

“That seems likely to be the case. And also likely that she forced the bearer to cut the portals.” 

Emma was frowning hard. “So how would someone go about becoming a—a bearer of this knife?” she asked. 

Oisín smiled, the smile of a man who has lived long and seen much, most of it unpleasant. “In the time-honoured way of passing a magical weapon from one hand to another,” he said. “By killing the previous bearer.” 

“Hmmm.” Emma’s frown deepened. “And is there any way of identifying the bearer?” 

“Perhaps, though it is difficult to be certain. The lore of Æsahættr is vague at best; in most realms it is entirely unknown and in others spoken of only in hushed whispers. Even I had believed it a myth, until I perceived its presence in this land. All I can tell you is that in some of the whispers there is mention of the bearer suffering injury to his left hand in the process of obtaining the knife. The loss of fingers, I believe.”

“Hmmm,” said Emma again. “Okay. Just one more question. You said that this side—” she pointed at the shiny edge”—can cut through any substance in any realm?” 

“Yes.” 

“What about magic?” 

“Oisín’s eyes glinted again. “In theory, yes. But I rather suspect you knew this already.”

Emma nodded, slowly. “I saw it,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I wasn’t sure I could believe what I saw. I was fighting Zelena, I had her trapped within a containment spell… and Henry just—he just—cut the spell open. He sliced right through my magic.” 

Regina drew in her breath sharply. “He did?” 

“Yes didn’t you—oh, I suppose you couldn’t see the light magic?” 

“Not as clearly as you, no. But could Henry?”

“I imagine that young Henry perceived the magic more than strictly saw it,” remarked Oisín. “Perception, not sight, is what guides the subtle knife; the barriers between worlds are invisible to all eyes. That which one can perceive, however, one can cut.” 

~

Henry’s fourth stop of the day was Granny’s, just in time for lunch. The diner was busy as always, bustling with people and noise, and when the crowd parted and Henry caught a glimpse of his grandparents tucked away in a corner booth staring at each other with the same dopey looks on their faces that he saw all the time on his mom and dad, he couldn’t hold back a gleeful grin. 

“Hey, Archie,” he said, sliding onto a stool next to the erstwhile psychiatrist, who looked tired and hopeless and and very wrong dressed as a miner, with grime beneath his fingernails and settled deeply into the lines on his face. His wire-rimmed glasses had been replaced by safety goggles and his hair looked thinner. Nevertheless he greeted Henry with a warm smile. 

“Hello, Henry,” he said. “How are you?” 

“Good! Can I ask you something? 

“Of course.” 

“Have you ever considered getting a dog?” 

When Henry first began his quest to return love to the people of Storybrooke he had opted for little suggestions, gentle hints designed to nudge them in the right direction. It hadn’t taken him long to realise that with this curse subtlety was futile, and that they responded to nothing but what his dad called “sledgehammer tactics.” Hey, Belle, have this book. Here, Neal, take this pawnshop. So, Archie, how’d you like a dog? The direct approach was the only one that worked. 

“A dog?” Archie replied. “No, I can’t say that I have.”

“Really? Because I think you’d be great as a dog dad.” 

“A dog dad…” Archie’s voice trailed off and a dreamy look settled in his eyes. “I’ve never thought of getting a dog.” He frowned in confusion. “That is, I don’t think I have. But actually… yes. A dog. Yes. That might be just the thing.” 

“Uh huh,” said Henry, who was keen to waste no time. “I saw one today I think you would love. A Dalmatian.” 

“Really?” 

“Yep. At the animal shelter. He just got there today.”

“A Dalmatian,” said Archie. “That’s the black and white spotted ones, right?” 

“Yep. I petted him, he’s really friendly. And he really needs a home.” 

Archie looked uncertain. “I don’t know if I could take care of a dog, Henry. I work long hours, you know.”

Yeah but you won’t for much longer, Henry thought. Not if I have anything to say about it.

“Just go meet him,” he wheedled. “I’ll come with you if you like.” 

Archie warred with himself for another moment then nodded. “All right. I’ll meet him.” 

~

It was barely a quarter past two when Belle arrived at the bookshop. Killian was busy helping customers and didn’t see her right away. It still surprised him how much business the shop drew in, considering the place only existed to give him a respectable and non-suspicion-raising occupation and a reason to move to Storybrooke, and also as a means of getting books of magic to a place where Emma could have access to them, both to help her rediscover her own magic and to give them all the information they would need to take on Zelena. It had certainly fulfilled all those roles, admirably, but now that the curse was near to breaking Killian had begun to think ahead. He would need something to occupy his days, and what with his ship and his crew most likely stranded in Neverland with Blackbeard as their captain, a return to piracy or even a more respectable ship-based occupation was firmly off the table. His only real option was to keep the bookshop.

The more that he thought about it the more appealing the idea grew. He truly loved his little shop, the light and airy space all his own that he had organised and furnished to suit his tastes. He loved his books, the way they smelled and how they looked lined up neatly on his shelves. He loved matching those books to the people who sought them, loved both the pleased looks on his customers’ faces and the satisfaction of closing a sale. He loved the mental exercise of keeping his accounts and tracking his inventory, of looking through catalogs and choosing new books to purchase. Books that of course he would need to read himself in order to make recommendations to his customers. That prospect in particular he loved. Killian still found this realm frustrating and baffling in many ways but one thing that could be chalked up firmly in its favour was that it possessed a true wealth of reading material. He calculated he would need to live at least another three hundred years just to get through it all.

He began to think about expansion, about new genres he could introduce, popular titles that would attract new customers. Soon plans and ideas that started small had grown and grown until they were lodged firmly in his mind, refusing to be ignored or brushed aside. He wanted to do this, he realised, wanted it quite intensely, and for the first time in his very long life he had the luxury of choosing to do precisely what he wanted. Which was a surprisingly terrifying prospect but also a very welcome one. 

Killian completed his sale then turned to greet the new customer with a smile that froze on his face when he recognised Belle. Though Henry had texted him to expect her visit he instinctively braced himself for her anger, her disgust, before he recalled that she was cursed and didn’t remember him. 

“Hello,” he said, forcing himself to relax. “Is there anything I can help you with?” 

“Are you Killian Jones?” 

“Aye.” 

“My—my name is Belle. Belle French. I, uh, know your son.” 

“Ah, yes. I believe he mentioned you. He recommended a book to you?” 

“Yes.” Belle’s face lit up. “A wonderful one. And he said, um, that you might be looking for an assistant? Here?”

Bloody Henry, thought Killian, with a mixture of exasperation and fondness. You drop one mention that you’re thinking of expanding and he runs with it. Still, he couldn’t deny that the quickest way to nurture Belle’s love of books would be to surround her with them. The lad was undeniably clever. 

“I’m thinking about it,” he said. “Are you interested in the job?” 

“Y—” Belle took a deep breath. “Yes. I am.” 

“Well, why don’t you sit down and we’ll have a chat about it,” said Killian, gesturing to the sofa at the back of the shop. “Would you like a drink? Coffee? Tea?” 

“Tea would be lovely.” 

What the hell, thought Killian, as he went to make the tea, why not? When the curse broke she would doubtless be angry and scared of him again—and who could blame her?—but then he knew he’d be dealing with rather a lot of that once Storybrooke regained its memories. He might as well take what steps he could towards demonstrating how he had changed and hope that would be enough to convince people to give him a second chance. 

~

“Perception,” echoed Emma. “Right. Okay. I think that’s all we needed to ask.” She turned to Regina. “Unless you have any other questions?” 

“No.” Regina shook her head. “This has been very informative.” 

Emma held out her hand for the knife and Oisín, after one last long look and a subtle caress, relinquished it. Carefully, Emma replaced it in the reinforced evidence bag and tucked it back into the satchel. She leaned the satchel against the leg of her chair and turned back to Oisín with an expression both resigned and expectant. 

“What?” he asked. 

“We’ve learned what I came here to learn,” she replied. “So we’ll be going now. We need to get back to Storybrooke before it gets too late.” 

“Indeed. It was lovely seeing you, even for a short time.” 

Emma frowned. “Is that it?” 

“Were you expecting more?”

“Well, I mean, aren’t you going to give me some cryptically wise parting words?” asked Emma. “You usually do.” 

“Not today,” said Oisín, amusement dancing in his eyes again. “I believe you know everything you need, and also that you understand the import of what you know.” 

“Well that makes a change.” 

He laughed, a light, musical sound that rang out far more loudly than it ought to in the small space of the shop. “You know, Emma, I’m very proud of you,” he said. “You were hardly the easiest pupil I have ever taught, but you are by far the most accomplished. And I don’t just mean your power, that you were born with. I mean your attitude and your approach to your magic. How you have let go of your fear and resentment of it. How you’ve embraced it. I believe that had you not, even Hook’s most determined efforts to restore it to you could not have been successful.” 

Emma flushed, still not wholly comfortable with praise, and gave a little shrug. “It’s all down to him anyway,” she said. “He always says that magic is a part of me and that he—” she grew pinker and glanced at Regina out of the corner of her eye “—he loves every part of me.” 

Regina did not sneer. Instead she flushed slightly herself and smiled a small smile, as if remembering. 

Oisín nodded in satisfaction. “It’s as I hoped then.” He leaned back in his chair again, his expression soft and almost wistful. “I used to weep at the waste of that man,” he said. “You must never tell him that I told you this. I wept in mourning for the loss of what he could have been, for the good man so deeply buried beneath anger and vengeance that I feared he would never be seen in more than glimpses. That he would destroy himself without ever knowing who he truly was, or could be. Until you, Emma, gave him a reason to know it. You saved him.” 

“He saved me too,” said Emma, thinking of how closed off she had been before she met Killian. How lonely. How lost. “We saved each other.”

“Yes,” Oisín agreed. “That was the first part of your story. A part I believe is now approaching its end. There are far more parts to come. Enjoy them all, together.” 

He stood and waited as Emma and Regina followed suit, then held out his hand. When Emma took it as if to shake, he grasped hers between both of his and held it tightly. 

“What will you do now?” Emma asked him. “I—I don’t think Killian and I will be coming back here. Once we break the curse... well, all my family is in Storybrooke and he really loves that bookstore. I’m pretty sure we’ll be staying there. Are you going to stay here?” 

“No,” Oisín replied, “I’m no longer needed in this place. I shall return to my home, and my Niamh. But you know how to find me, should you ever have need of me again. Or simply wish to say hello.” 

“We might actually do that,” said Emma, smiling. “Thank you.” 

Oisín returned the smile, squeezing Emma’s hand. “It’s been an honour, Emma Swan, now Jones,” he said. “Give my regards to your husband and son. And to the rest of your family—” his eyes flitted to her belly, so briefly she nearly missed it. “—when they arrive.” 

~

Belle left the bookstore an hour later with a new job and a bag full of books, most from Killian’s own personal collection. 

“I’m working on diversifying the inventory,” he’d explained. “And your input on the best ways to do that would be greatly appreciated. At the moment we don’t stock very much light, entertaining reading material. However I believe I have one or two things of my own you would enjoy.” He piled book after book into one of the cloth bags printed with the Jolly Roger Books logo and handed it to Belle with a grin. “I look forward to hearing what you think of them.” 

She felt happier than she could remember feeling, all but dancing along the sidewalk in her eagerness to get home and start reading, absolutely ecstatic at the prospect of quitting her job at the market and going every day to that beautiful shop full of books and light and Killian’s friendly smile and interesting conversation. Even the odd hints of regret that she could see lurking behind his eyes felt relatable, and though she’d only spent an hour in his company she felt almost like he was a friend already. 

Books and a friend, thought Belle, with a flash of insight and a sudden clarity that swept away the apathy and confusion that had clouded her mind for as long as she could remember. She stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk as a feeling of revelation washed over her. That’s what had been missing in her life, the cause of the emptiness she constantly felt but never could quite manage to explain. All this time she’d thought something was broken in her, when really she’d just needed books. And a friend.   

~

Henry met Archie outside the animal shelter late that afternoon. Archie smiled his familiar, warm smile but Henry could see he was nervous. 

“Henry, I know I agreed to this but I’m not so sure it’s really—” he began. 

“Just meet the dog,” Henry interrupted. “It won’t hurt to meet him.” 

He pushed open the door and held it, looking back expectantly. “Come on,” he encouraged, and slowly Archie followed.  

“Back again, Henry?” David smiled at them. “Yep! Mr Nolan, this is Archie,” said Henry. “He’s the one I told you about, who might adopt the new dog.” “Might,” emphasised Archie with a nervous smile. 

“No problem,” said David. “We only allow adoptions when we think it’s a good match, for the animal and the human.” Archie nodded, and the tension in his shoulders relaxed. “Henry, why don’t you take him back to meet the dog?” David asked. 

Henry had to force himself not to run. He hurried to Pongo’s cage where the dog seemed to be waiting, wagging his tail. “Here he is,” said Henry eagerly. “Isn’t he great?” 

Archie approached the cage slowly, his eyes going wide behind his safety goggles. “He’s—he’s gorgeous,” he whispered.  

“At the sound of Archie’s voice Pongo gave a small bark and his tail picked up speed, moving so fast it was a blur. He poked his nose through the bars of the cage and whined at Archie. 

“Look!” cried Henry. “He likes you already.” 

“Ohhh,” said Archie, moving towards the cage, hand extended. “Hello, boy.” 

Pongo licked his hand, and when Archie knelt down, his face, covering it in sloppy, loving kisses. Archie laughed, his face lit up with joy. 

“Well he certainly seems to have chosen you,” said David’s voice from behind them. 

“He definitely has,” Henry agreed. “You’ve got to adopt him, Archie.” 

“I don’t—I’m not—I can’t—” Archie looked helplessly at Pongo’s pleading eyes and sighed. “I will,” he said. He looked up at David. “If it’s okay—” 

“Of course,” said David. “There’s some paperwork to do, but after seeing you together I’m more than happy to sign off on the adoption. Congratulations.”

Archie nodded, still looking a bit shell-shocked. 

“I’ll go get everything prepared, you come to the front when you’re ready,” said David, He took out a key and unlocked Pongo’s cage. The minute the door opened, the dog leapt on Archie, squirming delightedly. 

“What are you going to name him?” asked Henry. 

“You know, I have no idea,” said Archie. “I never actually expected this to happen. Have you got any suggestions?” 

“How about Pongo?” Henry suggested. 

“Pongo,” Archie repeated, and the dog barked happily. Archie smiled. “Is your name Pongo?” 

“Woof!” said Pongo. 

“Well, that seems definitive.” Archie laughed. “Pongo it is, then.”

He stood, his hand still on Pongo’s head. “Thank you, Henry,” he said. “I had no idea I needed a dog, but I think...” he frowned and shook his head, blinking rapidly. “Somehow, I think he’s just what I was missing.”  

“No problem,” said Henry, mentally ticking another name off his list. “I knew you guys would love each other.”

~

Emma poofed herself and Regina straight from Queens to Killian’s apartment. Transporting the both of them over such a distance and then back again had exhausted a great deal of her magic, and if she went to the station first she doubted she’d have enough left to poof from there to home. And as she and Killian were still cautious about being seen together in public, she didn’t want to walk to his place or drive. It wasn’t worth the risk of anyone observing her going into the bookstore after it was closed, or spotting her bug parked in front of it. 

Henry and Killian were already there when the white smoke swirled up from the ground and they appeared. Emma went straight to her husband, knowing he would be worried about her, and allowed him to run his hands over her and look probingly into her eyes, assuring himself that she was okay in both mind and body. Regina gave a hug to Henry and a nod to Killian, then left to get ready for her date. 

“Regina and Robin Hood,” said Emma, snuggling into Killian’s side and relaxing against him. “I still can’t quite believe it.” 

“It’s so cool,” said Henry. 

“Yeah, I guess it is.” Emma smiled, thinking about the new softness she’d witnessed in Regina that afternoon. “So how was your day, kid?” 

“Good!” Henry’s face lit up. “I did so much! I found Pongo and got Archie to adopt him, and Dad’s gonna give Belle a job, and I invited my father for dinner.” 

“Your fa—Neal? For dinner?” Henry nodded. “What, here?”

“Aye,” said Killian, running his hand soothingly up and down her arm. “It was Henry’s idea but I agreed. We thought it might be nice to include him in a family meal, even if he doesn’t know that’s what it is.” 

“He’s really lonely, Mom,” Henry chimed in. “Everyone in town is, but him especially. I think the love he needs might have to come from us.” 

“But… then why did we give him the pawn shop?” 

“To get the pawn shop open again, mostly,” said Killian. “And to give us an excuse to meet him. But we didn’t really expect him to discover any love there. Remember, Swan, that Bae was abandoned by his mother and ran away from his father. He found a home briefly with the Darling children but that was taken from him, and I’m sad to say that during his time in Neverland he didn’t really become close to any of the Lost Boys. Henry thinks and I agree, that what Neal really needs, what perhaps he’s always needed, is a family.” 

Emma nodded. “I can see that, I guess. But how are you going to explain me being here with you guys? Won’t he think that’s weird?” 

“So we just don’t explain it,” said Henry. “The curse has kept him really isolated. I don’t think he knows you’re supposed to be married to Walsh. He doesn’t seem to know very much about what’s been going on in town, and almost nothing about his father.”

“Huh,” said Emma. “I guess that makes sense. It was the same with Regina. She was really isolated working for my parents.” 

“Aye. Allow people to interact and you risk them forming attachments,” Killian agreed. “I imagine that any kind of genuine connection between people would have threatened the integrity of the curse.” 

“Well, okay,” said Emma. “That sounds like a solid plan, and I’m on board. But I need a serious nap before I deal with Neal or anyone else. I’ve used so much magic today. When’s he supposed to get here?” 

“Not for a few hours yet,” said Killian, kissing her hair. “Go have your nap, love. We’ll be sure to wake you in time.” 

Henry watched as his parents cuddled for a moment then shared a soft kiss, watched his mom head off to their bedroom and watched his dad watching her go. He thought about his grandparents making doey eyes at each other that afternoon at Granny’s, and about Archie and Pongo’s joyful reunion. He thought about his mom so excited about her date with Robin, and about Belle discovering books and his father coming to have dinner with them. He smiled to himself. A day like this one was just about worth getting up early for. 

-

@katie-dub​​​ @kmomof4​​​ @teamhook​ @stahlop​​​ @mariakov81​​​ @snowbellewells​​ @thejollyroger-writer​ @jennjenn615​@tiganasummertree​ @lfh1226-linda​ @winterbaby89​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @resident-of-storybrooke​

[elizabeethan]

The Days We Defend (Will Turn To Gold)- Chapter 7

Everything is perfect, until it isn’t. Killian and Emma have spent months building a life together after finally defeating Neal and Gold, but when the Dark One dies and his power becomes untethered, everyone in Storybrooke is at risk, and some decisions may have lasting consequences.

Sequel to Walk With Me (I Think We’ll Find A Way)

Prologue, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

Read on Ao3

A/N: get ready for some smut my pals. Any predictions on what’s to come???

Thank you to my good pal @the-darkdragonfly for being an amazing beta!

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

“No need to feel threatened, Savior,” the old man says. “I am a friend to you and to your family.”

She steps away, closer to Killian, Corrine, and Henry, and says, “If you're a friend, then why don’t we know you?”

“A very good question indeed. You may not know me, but I assure you, I know you. Or at least, I know of you.”

The man begins walking down the path that leads to the street, away from Granny’s and towards their family, and Killian holds Corrine tighter and reaches for Emma’s hand. “Who the hell are you? What do you want?”

“Wait,” Henry says suddenly; apparently the pieces are falling into place in his mind. “I know who he is, mom.”

“I’m sure you do, young man. Go on and tell her what you know.”

Emma turns to her son and looks at him expectantly, obviously still confused about what the bloody hell is going on here, until Henry says, “he’s the Apprentice. We need his help to remove the Darkness.”

The bearded man chuckles as he finally reaches them, extending a hand to Henry’s and shaking it kindly. “Very good, son. You’ve a clever boy here, Emma.”

“I know…” she says suspiciously, as if still not trusting this stranger. “How are you supposed to remove the Darkness from Regina?”

“Why, with your help, of course.”

~~~~

Emma’s been through a lot in the past few hours.

Breaking a curse with True Love’s Kiss, when she struggled to say the words aloud mere weeks ago, was weighing on her.

Knowing her daughter had been cursed and living in a convent, cared for by several strangers for weeks, was weighing on her.

Seeing the lengths to which her son’s other parents would go in order to reduce the time she spends with him, simply because they were upset with her, was weighing on her.

The confirmation that her son’s father would continue to attempt to destroy her life and the lives of her loved ones, despite being stopped from doing so several months prior, was weighing on her.

And being told that her magic, which she’s barely begun to hone, was what was going to solve all of their problems and remove the Darkness for good was the icing on the metaphorical cake.

All things considered, Killian thinks she’s handling things rather well. Corrine is sitting happily in her lap, hugging her mother close as she used to do after Emma had a long day at work, and he can see the stress melting from her shoulders. He hears her say, “I’ve missed you, Coco,” to which their daughter responds with a giggle, and Killian thinks all is right in the world.

Until the old man opens his bloody mouth, of course.

“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it, your majesties?” he says to Emma’s parents, and that makes her ears perk up.

“You know each other?” she asks, stiffening visibly in her chair.

Her parents are silent, turning to each other with looks of horror in their eyes before they look back at their daughter. Queen Snow has tears trailing down her cheeks as she bounces baby Oliver in her arms. “Mom?” Emma asks, her voice breaking and her grip on her daughter tightening before she looks up at Killian desperately. “What’s going on?”

He shakes his head unhelpfully, as if he were to have any information on why her parents suddenly became so mysterious. “Grandma, Grandpa, what’s he talking about?”

Upon being called by Henry, David shakes his head and turns back from his wife, then takes a seat across the table from Emma. Snow sits beside her husband, and Emma turns towards Killian, holding her hand out to him to request that he sit as well. Once he does, Snow and David take a deep inhale and begin to speak.

They tell Emma of a time before she was born, when they found out about their unborn child’s potential for great darkness. They tell her about how the Sorcerer's Apprentice was able to cast a spell in order to remove the potential for darkness from Emma. They tell her about how they did this at the expense of another.

Through their conversation, Emma is silent, holding onto Corrine for dear life until she wiggles away and fetches some of Oliver's toys to entertain herself, calling for her brother to play with her. When Killian chances a glance at Emma, the emerald in her eyes is shimmering through the tears threatening to fall, and he has to stop himself from wiping them away. But much to his surprise, she looks away from her parents with betrayal painted across her face and takes his hand again, squeezing it tightly as she sniffles.

“You… you did this… at the expense of someone else’s soul?” she curses out as a tear falls.

“Emma, we did what we thought we had to do to give you your best shot at goodness,” Snow tries to rationalize.

She holds his hand tighter. “All my life, no one has ever believed in me. I thought you were different, but you’re not!”

“No, no honey, it isn’t like that! We just wanted to do what we thought was best for you!”

“And you,” she says, turning in her seat and nearly dragging Killian to the ground as she goes. “You expect me to trust you enough to help us after what you did to me?”

The Apprentice nods somberly and says, “I understand your anger, Savior. But you must know, everything your parents did was by design.”

She scoffs, releasing Killian’s hand and standing as she shakes her head. “You may have removed my potential for darkness,” she says bitterly, “but you certainly didn’t remove darkness from my life. I still got screwed over more times than I can count. Endless abuse, horrible foster placements, Neal...” she trails off, then shakes her head again. Their faces sour at the reminder of their daughter’s turbulent past. “At least when I found you, I thought that everything you did was to protect me and to do what was best, so I could save everyone! Not so that you could save your own selves from having to deal with a monster of a daughter.”

“Emma—”

“Maybe you guys are the monsters here.”

“Emma!” Snow tries again, but she’s met with a raised hand silencing her.

“Killian, I'd like to go home. We can figure this all out tomorrow, but for now, I need to be with my family.”

He clears his throat awkwardly at her insulting snub, scratching behind his ear as he stands and barely making eye contact with Emma’s broken-hearted parents before calling Corrine. “Time to go home, love.”

Corrine stands, bounding over towards her parents happily, reaching her arms out to her father before even getting close. Killian picks her up, grunting as he stands, before she asks him, “monsters are here, duddy?”

Emma’s face goes white and her body stiffens before she puts her head down and turns towards the door.

~~~~

It takes hours for Henry and Corrine to settle down. Killian’s almost proud of his daughter for her resilience and her resistance to her obvious exhaustion as they sit on the couch watching movies in hopes of distracting from everything going wrong in their lives. Truthfully, they should be coming up with a plan to deal with the Dark One, but he, Emma, and their children need time to reconnect and cope with all that has happened today and during the curse. But despite Corrine’s pirate-like behaviors, he must admit that he’s quite exhausted himself, and wouldn't mind some time with Emma separate from his toddler daughter and teenage stepson.

He tries not to rationalize how their house magically became livable again once the curse was broken and instead revelled in the comfort he felt at finally being reunited with his family. With both children asleep on the couch, he plants a kiss to Emma's temple and feels her melt just a bit more into his touch despite Corrine taking up extensive real estate on her lap. “I missed you,” she whispers into the soft glow from the television set.

He chuckles lightly and says, “you didn't remember me,” jokingly. She shrugs, and before she could argue he says, “I missed you too, love. More than I can even put into words.”

“You didn’t remember me,” she flirts back, causing him to tense his arm around her shoulder. He sighs and presses his nose into her hair a bit as he considers how to break the news to her, the scent of her familiar shampoo finally back in his nose and comforting him.

“I did,” he tells her. “And I missed you every moment, even though you were still here.”

She stirs, trying to keep Corrine still on her lap as she snoozes away, and turns just slightly so that she can look at him more directly as his left arm slides down her shoulder. “You did? You mean you were awake all this time?”

“Aye,” he nods as he scratches behind his ear. “I was awake.”

Emma says nothing in response, pinching her brows close together and glancing back down at their daughter before she begins running her fingers through her ever-thickening curls. “Can we,” she whispers, “can we put them to bed? I want to… talk.”

He smiles softly at her ability to even consider opening up to him despite her hesitation to do so just a few weeks ago, and ponders how much one curse can change a person. Perhaps this has more to do with the people who cast it, he thinks. “‘Course, love. Let me wake Henry and we can meet in our room in a few moments?”

“No,” she says quickly, shaking her head and reaching her hand out towards his wrist. “We can do both together, it’s okay.”

He finds himself grinning at her openness and willingness to show vulnerability with him, though he curses the fact that it took a traumatic event to drive such behaviors. He knows this is probably a response to learning such horrid things about the people she loves, and while that’s concerning, he chooses to focus on the joy it brings him to feel so close to her.

Henry wakes easily, slowly tromping up the stairs behind Killian and Emma. He would have carried the lad if he was a bit smaller, but he’s growing like a weed into an all out teenager and Killian is getting old, though he’d never admit it. He brushes his teeth without being told by Emma to do so as she rocks Corrine gently in her antique wooden chair, holding her close to her heart and humming softly rather than reading a story. The lass is asleep already, comfortably snoring away in her mother’s embrace, but Killian suspects that Emma can’t put her down. He watches them from his place in the threshold, leaning against the archway of the door and smiling at the fact that his family is finally, finally back together and—

Well, they'll worry about safe tomorrow.

Henry clears his throat from behind Killian and he turns to look at the lad, noting his height and recalling just how mature he was during this curse. The time that past wasn't much, but Killian feels as though Emma’s son has aged endlessly. “Ready to turn in, lad?”

“Aye aye,” he responds with a cheeky grin that could rival his mother’s. Killian smiles at the boy and playfully elbows him, letting him know that he and Emma will be right in to say goodnight.

“And Henry,” he calls after him once he’s walking towards his door. He turns and cocks his head. “Thank you for your help, lad. Couldn’t have done it without you.”

Henry rolls his eyes, though Killian catches the hint of a smirk as he turns back around. “You were right, you are more sappy in real life.”

Emma looks up at him with a confused smile, continuing her slow and gentle rocks before she finally stands and heads towards the crib. He walks towards his loves and wraps both arms around the two of them, Corrine sandwiched between her parents, and he presses a long kiss to the top of his daughter’s head. It’s hard for them to put her down, but she hardly stirs as Emma places her on the mattress and steps back.

He can tell that leaving her alone in her room is as hard for Emma as it is for him based on the way she curls into his hold once the babe is out of her arms, but they both come to a silent agreement that they must try and get their lives back on track after the horrors they've been through, and ensure that she sleeps soundly in her own bed despite how much they want to take her into their room. “Come, love,” he whispers against the top of her head, pressing a gentle kiss to her hair. “I’m very much looking forward to sleeping in our bed again.”

She nods and squeezes her arms around his waist and sniffles, releasing herself from him and brushing her cheeks with her hands before she steps quickly out of Corrine’s room and down the hall towards Henry’s. By the time Killian catches up with her after ensuring that Corrine’s night light is working correctly and her door is propped open just right, he finds Emma sitting on the edge of Henry’s bed and encasing him in a tight hug. “I’ll talk to you about everything tomorrow, kid,” she promises. “Just try and get a good night's sleep, okay?”

Once they’re ready for bed, they crawl in together and Emma immediately curls up against him and presses her lips to his bare chest, just above the heart she returned to him last year.

Although, he would argue that she actually kept it.

“So,” she starts. “You were awake, huh?”

He nods and runs his hand up and down along her spine, feeling her shiver against him. “I was.”

“I’m sorry.”

“None of this is your fault, Emma. Please don’t—”

“I know,” she cuts him off, and he’s honestly surprised.

“You know?” he asks her hesitantly, stilling his hand in shock for a moment.

She nods against his skin, running her hand from his stomach, up his chest to his shoulder, then down his arm to his naked wrist, drawing a shiver from him. “I know what you're gonna say,” she tells him, picking up his arm and kissing the damaged flesh. He has to remind himself to not pull away from her; that he feels more comfortable with her than he ever has. “It isn’t my fault, I shouldn’t feel guilty for not taking that damn dagger, I can’t control what Neal and Regina do. I’m a mother above being the Savior.”

He hums. “Aye, that about sums it up,” he laughs lightly, picking up his movements along the dips between the bones of her spine.

“And I guess… I guess you're right. I need to stop putting so much pressure on myself over all of this. Things may have turned out better if I had taken the Darkness, but they may have turned out worse, too.”

He moves his head so that he can kiss the top of hers and nods again. “Too right, my love.”

“And all things considered, the curse completely sucked and was, like, pure evil, but no one was hurt.”

“Aye. Though I did swear to Henry last year that I wasn’t going to let Bae cast his curse and hurt anyone he loves.” She hums again, kissing against his chest.

“I guess now it’s my turn to tell you that this isn’t your fault. We couldn’t have predicted any of this. Who would’ve thought Regina could be capable of this?” He knows she’s saying this to try and convince herself. Of course Regina, the Evil Queen, would be capable of this, but he knows that Emma is trying to see the best in her and her attempts to change. “Anyway, it’s been hard for me to admit that and accept it, but I really am trying, I promise.”

“I know you are, darling. That’s all anyone can ask for.”

“Right,” she says, continuing on as if she feels she may stop if she doesn’t get it all out at once. “And I wanna tell you something now, while we’re not in danger, and we haven’t just broken a curse, and we didn’t just have mind numbing orgasms. When things are just… normal.”

“And what’s that, Swan?” he asks with a chuckle. She’s silent for just a moment before she props herself up onto her elbows above him, one arm on either side of his chest so she can look in his eyes. He gives her a soft nod of encouragement and she smiles softly, glancing down from his gaze.

“I love you,” she says once she meets his eyes again before her smile blooms into a wide, bright grin.

He breathes out a soft laugh before reaching his hand up to cup her cheek and pulling her close to him, touching their foreheads together then capturing her lips between his for a sultry kiss. It doesn't break as she collapses back down against him, her shirt a poor replacement for the feeling of her skin against his own. It hardly breaks at all when he mumbles, “I love you,” through their kiss.

It doesn't break when she pulls him towards her until they're rolling over, her back to the mattress and his arms enveloping her in a safe, warm hold. It only breaks for a moment when she reaches down to the hem of her— his— t-shirt and tugs it over her head, exposing her bare breasts to his gaze in a way he hasn’t realized he’d missed so much. He looks down at her chest, then back up into her eyes and kisses her once more on the mouth before trailing his lips down the column of her throat.

It’s been too long. Considering the fact that they had a toddler and often a teenager living under their roof, they had a fairly healthy sex-life before this curse, and he isn’t ashamed to admit that the past few weeks have been torture for more than one reason. He’s missed her in so many different ways, and the way that her body feels under his own is certainly high on that list.

He’s missed the way she whimpers when his mouth finds her hardened nipple and sucks on it gently, his fingers giving attention to the other. He’s missed the heaviness of her breast against his palm. He’s missed the scent of her skin as he drags his nose down her stomach. He’s missed the way she shivers when his fingers dance along the hem of her underwear, already nearly soaked through by her want for him. Her desire matches his own and he pushes his hips against the mattress.

“I love you,” he whispers hotly against the dampened fabric, and he’s missed the way she thrusts her hips enthusiastically towards his face, a heady sigh escaping her parted lips. “I’ve missed you so dearly, my love.”

She moans at the hot breath hitting her still covered flesh, and he’s missed the way she reaches down and curls her fingers into his hair when he’s in this position. “I love you,” she breathes, before commanding, “touch me.”

He presses his lips to her covered center and hums thoughtfully, causing her to throw her head back and moan in the most deliciously sinful way. “I’ll have you know,” he begins, and he wishes he had his hook in place so that he could drag the cool metal against her burning skin. He’d missed the way she mewls when he does that. “That I haven’t been with the woman I love in weeks, and I damn well intend to make this last.”

She groans when he drags a finger down her slit and smirks at her when it dampens through the cotton. “Make it last for you,” she insists. “No need to bring me into your sick torture fantasies.”

He laughs a bit too loud and notices her sitting up just slightly with a grin plastered across her face before he tugs her under garment down to expose her flesh, breaking the string of arousal with his tongue. That shuts her up quite effectively as she throws her head back and moans. “Fuck, god dammit, you are so hot,” she says.

He hums appreciatively once he gets the piece of clothing off her ankles and tosses it to the ground playfully, torturously lifting her knees up towards her chest and making as though he’s about to dive into her core as he so badly wants to. But instead of licking a thick strip through her folds like he normally would, he dips his head and slides up gracefully until he can kiss her mouth, careful not to make contact with her trembling heat.

“You're the worst,” she breathes out against his mouth, hardly even kissing him back as she pants and pushes her hips towards his for friction. “Would you please take your damn pants off? This is seriously unfair.”

He laughs lightly as he continues to peck kisses against her. “Quite demanding, aren't we?”

“I haven’t gotten any in weeks,” she rationalizes, and although he knows her tone was light, he can’t help the thoughts that suddenly spring into his mind. The memories that, during the curse, she and Bae were living together.

“Uh,” he says, suddenly overcome with a feeling he can’t quite put into words. He’s frozen, wanting desperately to continue touching her but also wondering if anyone else has. He knows it wouldn't change his feelings towards her, or his infinite desire to be with her, but it would certainly increase the likelihood that he puts Bae’s head through a wall. “I’m sorry,” he stutters out, lifting himself slightly off of her so that he can regroup.

“Woah, Killian, what just happened?” she sits up, forcing him off of her until he’s on his back to her right and she’s on her side. He notices her quickly squeezing her thighs together and the sight alone is just about enough to bring his head back where he wants it to be.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “I just thought… for a second, I thought about—”

“Hey,” she says, taking his face in her hands once she gets herself up onto her knees. “Nothing happened, okay? I swear to you, nothing happened between me and Neal while we were cursed.”

He meets her eyes with his, surely looking pathetic as he sadly worries about her once again. He can hardly even revel at the fact that she knows exactly what he’s thinking. “Aye, love,” he says. He knew of course that she wouldn't want to be with Bae, but it’s difficult to control one's actions when one is placed under a Dark Curse.

“I love you, Killian,” she insists firmly, still holding his cheeks against her palms. “Even while we were cursed, I never wanted anything to do with him. I wanted you from the moment I… met you… I guess.”

He chuckles softly, leaning his face into her hand and kissing her right wrist. “I love you too, Swan. Sorry to bring the mood down.”

“It’s okay,” she says with a smirk, “I’m sure there are ways you could bring it back up.”

She giggles lightly at her own joke as he flips them so that she’s on her back again, then he’s kissing her fiercely as she runs her hands along the scars decorating his back. She moans when he squeezes her breast in his hand, and drags her feet up his thighs until she finds purchase on his rear, as if trying to slide his pants down with her feet. He loves how easily he can laugh with her while they're in bed together, and he bites her bottom lip when she finally gives up.

Killian decides that he isn’t satisfied with how he left things earlier, not even having a taste of what he’s been missing for so long, so he slides himself lower along her body, still stubbornly refusing to remove his sleeping trousers and drawing a frustrated but clearly aroused groan from her. “Touch me, god dammit,” she breathes out desperately.

“So demanding,” he chastises playfully, kissing her hot skin softly so that she bucks against him. “And so eager.”

“Someone has been torturing me for hours,” she nearly spits out, grabbing onto his hair again and attempting to push his head down against her.

He runs the tip of his tongue along her parting flesh, not quite reaching where she needs him, although it’s more than she’s gotten so far. “We’ve only been at this for about 15 minutes, my love,” he reminds her with a chuckle.

“Please,” she breathes, moaning when he finally dips his tongue in. He seems to have effectively cut her off based on the way her mouth hangs open and no sound comes out. He hums expectantly as if to ask her to go on with her thought, and that seems to send her into a state as she tosses her head to one side and cries out softly again. “I wanted,” she starts, barely able to get the words out as he licks her up and down, “I wanted to jump you the minute the curse broke.”

He laughs against her skin and she clamps her legs against his head, somehow tugging on his hair and pushing him down towards herself at the same time. He hums and nods in agreement, dragging his lips and tongue along as he does so.

She’s a wanton thing under him, panting and moaning with nearly each movement of his tongue and the suction of his lips against her pulsing clit. He’s missed this.

He has to hold his blunt arm against her lower belly once he finally dips his fingers into her, the first followed quickly by a second, because she can't seem to stop herself from bucking her hips against him for more friction. She continues to thrust into his hand and mouth and shortened wrist, the sounds coming from her far too loud and yet not loud enough for his desperate ears. When he finally feels her clamping hard against his fingers as they curl just so, he nearly loses himself inside his sleeping outfit at the sight of her breasts heaving with her pants and moans and soft curses of his name.

He lets her ride herself through it against his fingers, continuing to lave his tongue against her until she’s jumping at the touch against her sensitive flesh, before he slides back up her body, planting wet kisses along her stomach, chest and neck until he reaches her mouth. She kisses him back enthusiastically, if not exhaustively, and he nearly loses himself again at the knowledge that she enjoys the taste of herself on him as much as he does.

They continue to kiss each other passionately until it seems like she’s recovered enough to go again, wrapping her legs around his hips and probably ruining the trousers he still wears. Not that he minds one bit. “Love you,” he mumbles against her, and she nods in response.

“I want you inside me so bad,” she says darkly, her voice rumbling in her chest against his mouth. “I wanted you from the first time I saw you, even though I was cursed. I love you so damn much.”

“I want to be inside you,” he returns, and honestly, he thinks he may be outside of himself and looking on as he tugs his pants down and lines himself up to her, because this couldn't possibly be real. After such anguish in waiting to be back here, it feels surreal. “You have no idea how badly I wanted you, Swan. I just wanted to hold you and kiss you and fuck you.”

She moans against his mouth, insisting, “do it now, please,” in a soft whimper.

He does, growling at her fervor and nudging himself against her until she spreads her legs even wider in acceptance and he slides home. They both groan at the sensation of him filling her, and it’s as he feels her clenching herself around him that he finally finds the wherewithal to start moving. He thrusts gently at first, trying to keep it slow and torturous because he doesn't want this feeling to end, but as she moans in his ear and claws at his back intoxicatingly, he’s suddenly unable to control himself as he rocks against her faster and harder.  The sounds she makes are the fuel he needs to keep going, telling him that she needs it as hard and raw as he does. Telling him that they’ll get to that point of slow and steady and soothing soon enough, but for now, they need the rough-and-tumble to further confirm that this is real and that they’re back in each other’s arms.

He tilts his hips just slightly so that he thinks his pelvis is striking her clit in the way she likes it, and he kisses away the tear that escapes her left eye and whispers against her cheek, “so good for me, Swan. So tight and perfect, I love you so much.”

It’s reminiscent of the night they spent together just before the curse was cast, only this time she says, “I love you, Killian,” as she stares into his eyes.

The combination of the emotion he’s feeling and the fact that he’s been so close to her and yet unable to go near her catches up to him, and he has to put in far too much effort to ensure that she’s brought to that place of ecstasy before he spills himself into her. “Are you close?” he asks desperately, feeling like a teenager who finishes too quickly.

“So, so close, baby, please don’t stop,” she pleads. “Just like that, don’t stop.”

He uses his hand to grip her hip, tilting her up just a bit so that his angle is deeper, and at that he feels her fluttering and clenching her walls around him with a force that tells him she’s about to cascade towards the rapture that they've been chasing. The soft, high pitched cries barely escaping her throat give him the permission he needs to let go, and she’s falling with him as he wraps his arms around her and holds her as close to him as he can as they fade together into a blissful state of euphoria.

She’s wrapped her arms around him too, squeezing him as her orgasm ripples through her but letting go once her body goes limp, letting her elbows drop to the mattress and keeping her hands weakly on his sides. “Fuck,” she breathes out. “My god.”

He chuckles and kisses her cheek. “Killian will do,” he says with a smirk that he knows she can hear in his voice.

She smacks his rear playfully, eliciting a yelp from him in response to the sting, and then kisses his cheek tenderly.

“Can I get you some water, my dear?” she hums in response, nodding against his face and giving him one last squeeze before letting go.

“That would be very nice, thank you.”

When he returns, she’s cleaned herself up and curled under the blankets, but he’s pleased to see that she hasn’t bothered with getting dressed. He smirks at her as he hands over the glass after taking another swig from it, then removes his own boxers and crawls in next to her, placing a soft kiss on her temple once she lies back down. “That was pretty good,” she says playfully.

“The water or the sex?”

“Both, I guess,” she shrugs.

He hums out a laugh, equal parts entertained and exhausted, and wraps his arms around her so that her back is planted firmly against his front. “Should we talk about your parents?”

She snorts. “We’re both naked.”

“A fact that I very much appreciate,” he quips. “I just meant what happened earlier. It’s been quite a trying day for you and you learned something new about them.”

“Trying for all of us.” He hums. “I don't know, it sucked. I wish it never happened, but then I wonder what my life would be like if it hadn’t. Probably could've been a lot worse, I guess.”

“Aye, I suppose that’s possible.” She nods. “I’m sorry.”

Emma shakes her head, taking his forearms and pulling them tighter around herself. “It’s something I'll just have to deal with.”

“Right.”

“But you’ll be here, right? You’ll… I won’t bear it alone?”

In response to her repeating his own words back to him, he chuckles. Then, he nods against the back of her neck, placing a kiss there and grinning as he says, “precisely. Always.”

She pulls away a bit and he instantly misses the warmth of her skin against his and fears that she’s closing herself off, but instead she rolls over to hug him close and hitches one leg between his two, kissing his throat. “‘M tired.”

“Aye, love,” Killian agrees, running his hand along her back. “We’ll sort everything in the morning.”

She nods. “We've got to come up with a plan for dealing with Regina and Neal. They can’t get away with this.”

“We will,” he assures her in a whisper. “We won't let them.”

Just as he’s sure she’s faded under the blanket of sleep, she whispers, “love you,” into his skin, and he sleeps soundly.

[homecherry94-blog]

vaginal Area firm maker.

clinical Cryo iq Derm fluid Freeze therapy.

Content

Viral Verrucae (warts).

Mothercare.

face Lift At timberland hospital.

Face & Neck Lift.

hundreds Of females Are opposing Poland Banning almost All Abortions.

The scientific Research Behind Cellulite.

assessment.

Cosmetic surgery is normally just offered on the NHS if the problem is impacting your physical or psychological wellness. Some skin tags may fall off naturally but if you desire your skin tags removed we will attempt and aid you. At our IPSA Medical facility, our doctors will certainly analyze your skin tags. During the appointment, you will be recommended on the most effective strategy to take. If the skin tag is creating problems, then we may recommend removing it. The majority of individuals opt for skin tag upkeep treatments every couple of years.

For additional information regarding skin tag removal or to prepare an appointment, please call us or utilize book your assessment online. For all therapies such as mole removal, wart removal, skin tag removal and cyst elimination please enable one to one-and-half hours for the assessment. Moles, skin tags and growths may additionally be gotten rid of for cosmetic reasons if they are in a popular location such as the face or nose, or if they remain in a position where they are prone to bleeding or capturing on clothing. Give yourself peace of mind by knowing that you're under the treatment of a medical professional. This image shows the look of the skin prior to and also instantly after an electrocautery skin tag removal treatment near to the eye area. 2 skin tags have been removed in the centre of these pictures a larger skin tag and also a smaller sized one. It's very easy to book your skin tag removal with our GP, pick to fill in the contact form, email your query or call our function team on.

Viral Verrucae (verrucas).

Little pockets of skin which might appear insignificant can cause discomfort, humiliation and also self-consciousness. Our Skin Specialist Doctor will analyze your skin tag or lesion to ensure it can be safely removed. Removal of skin tags and also sores start from ₤ 245 after a throughout check and also evaluation prior to elimination. hifu Luton have actually been present for a long time as well as are entirely benign. As they are considered a cosmetic imperfection just, GPs are no more able to supply their removal on the NHS. At LINIA Skin Clinic we offer a wide variety of treatments for skin tag removal. An elimination of skin tags most of the times is viewed as an aesthetic procedure as well as you maybe required to eliminate this at an exclusive technique.

It is highly a good idea that you do not try to eliminate them yourself as unrestrained and excessive blood loss can occur. Some treatments require a first consultation with your Cosmetic surgeon prior to treatment. You can still use this form as well as we will call you back to go over following actions, yet before continuing to treatment you will require to reserve an in-clinic consultation with among our Surgeons.

Please call us to find out even more regarding our skin tag removal service in Plymouth, Devon. This procedure might trigger momentary skin discolouration and also irritability and also the skin tag may not be removed which might cause further treatment. The exact factor for skin tags isn't clear but they are normally found in individuals with diabetes or individuals who are obese. Wearing tight clothes and also repeated friction can likewise cause skin tag in people who are obese. They can occur in anyone yet they often tend to be discovered a lot more in people that are middle-aged.

This is due to the fact that the removal of skin tags is considered as plastic surgery, which is rarely available with the NHS. Generally, the NHS will just carry out cosmetic surgery treatments if the problem is influencing your physical or psychological health and wellness.

Mothercare.

HIFU facelift therapy is an ingenious, pain-free and also non-invasive method to decrease wrinkles that lasts up to 2 years and is skin-friendly, safe and also efficient.

Join us on social media for the latest skin related news and therapy deals.

Dr. Shirin as well as Elite Looks believe higher law is crucial to the growth of appearance industry in its entirety, and because of this, our center's viewpoint is based upon giving doctor-led care to the highest possible, medically accepted criteria.

Consequently I was pleased when Italian facial filler supplier, IBSA, welcomed me to Milan for a Masterclass in the current innovations in hyaluronic acid facial fillers as well as the strategies established to guarantee an excellent result.

Of course it was also an excellent possibility to meet with other medical professional professionals from around the world.

As an NMC Nurse Practitioner I am obligation bound to continue my education to make sure the efficacy as well as safety and security of the therapies I offer.

Our practice is led by our founder, Dr. Shirin Lakhani, that is a supporter for better guideline in the aesthetic appeal sector.

This will be examined during your assessment to ensure your suitability for treatment. https://uckfield.hi-fu.co.uk/ will additionally go through a full evaluation to guarantee that it is safe to perform your treatment. Ministry of Shaving Covent Garden is a waxing and laser hair elimination specialist hair salon situated on Neal Road, simply off Shaftesbury Method in Covent Yard, Central London. They supply an extraordinary variety of excellent hair removal solutions to individuals of London, providing for both girls and also gents. The deluxe insides of this bright as well as airy therapy room develop an inviting space for you to take pleasure in a place of pampering. Enabling a hassle-free journey there is free 30-minute car park outside the properties and also within a 4-minute stroll, you'll discover on your own at Reviewing West train station.

Similar to the Hyfrecator, there is only a marginal possibility of scarring when the aftercare advice is adhered to. The cost of the elimination of one skin tag by laser is ₤ 275, the expense for the removal of added skin tags on the very same day is ₤ 75. Skin tag removal via Hyfrecator is thought about the preferred method of removal. The procedure is relatively discomfort free, fast and straightforward as well as because the Hyfrecator cauterises the skin tag there is likewise no blood loss. The therapy itself will last roughly 15 mins, however it could be much longer depending upon the number of skin tags to be removed. The cost of the removal of one skin tag by the Hyfrecator is ₤ 195, the expense for the elimination of added skin tags on the very same day is ₤ 25. This is since skin tag removal is considered as cosmetic surgery, which is rarely offered through the NHS.

When it comes to moles, the removal of a benign lesion is commonly advised as a preventive action to prevent the threat of the mole turning cancerous later on and therefore is often covered by clinical insurance policy. We suggest that you check with, and get created authorisation from, your insurance policy supplier that they cover your specific therapy for benign skin lesion elimination under regional anaesthetic before beginning treatment. We have a number of money options offered for self-pay individuals having their sore removed for aesthetic reasons.

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Interested in discovering more about treating skin tags at Mallucci London? Organize an assessment by calling us at or by click on this link to fill in our online request form. At Perfect Picture Professional, we utilize our laser to eliminate moles, protuberances as well as skin tags. This is a pain-free therapy, offers an ideal outcome and also is a different, more reliable therapy than surgical removal, cryotherapy, radiofrequency or chemical techniques. Benign skin lesion elimination under regional anaesthetic costs may be covered by your clinical insurance policy.

Toddlers as well as youngsters might likewise form skin tags, generally in the neck and also underarm areas. Expectant females might establish skin tags as a result of hormone altitudes.

How long wear chin strap after facelift?

You must wear the chin strap continuously for the first two weeks after surgery except while eating and showering/cleaning incisions. The strap helps fight the forces of gravity immediately after surgery and helps improve any swelling.

This is since skin tag removal is considered plastic surgery, which is seldom readily available through the health service. Laser skin tag removal is utilized when the skin tag does not have a visible stalk. It is still a reasonably discomfort totally free treatment, yet the recovery time post treatment is a little longer than if the Hyfrecator is used.

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Aesthetics Residence Limited offers a cost-free welcome drink and customised examination with every therapy, guaranteeing you discover the best alternative. Situated along several major bus paths, there's also on-street auto parking outside if you are coming over automobile. Although https://my.clevelandclinic.org/health/treatments/21060-fat-freezing-cryolipolysis/risks--benefits , there is a possible danger from the use of fractional carbon dioxide lasers of burns or death if an area mores than treated with the power by chance. The device has a background in gynaecological applications where CARBON DIOXIDE lasers have been utilized by doctors for a number of decades to get rid of genital growths and some cancers. Your expert is likely to suggest regular kegel workouts to assist lengthen the results of having a course of Femilift. Most of our very own clients have experienced life transforming outcomes as a result of Femilift therapy for urinary incontinence specifically. You canread the testimonials at the bottom of the Femilift page, or watch a video testimonial listed below.

The scientific Research Behind Cellulite.

Both flash freezing as well as surgical treatments are exceptionally quick. Your treatment time may be much less than thirty minutes yet this likewise depends upon the variety of skin tags to be dealt with as well as their size. Cryotherapy is a pain-free elimination technique that delicately ices up and also damages the underlying afferent neuron allowing it to normally fall from the body in time. Skin tag removal is an easy treatment performed by a highly educated cosmetic specialist. Therapy approaches differ from cryotherapy to medical techniques. Both approaches have their advantages as well as are secure and reliable for skin tag removal.

A follow-up appointment as well as a day for the removal of any stitches may be scheduled you. If your skin lesion has actually been sent out for evaluation you will get the arise from your medical professional. Partial elimination-- a lesion that sticks out from your skin is 'shaved' off so it is the same level of the surrounding skin. This is typically combined with cautery which makes use of warmth to secure the skin and also quit bleeding. Pall Shopping center Medical gives high-quality exclusive health care solutions to self-paying and also private medical insured individuals without any waiting listings for any visits, scans or surgery. Our CQC-certified facilities are conveniently situated in Liverpool, Manchester & Newton-Le-Willows. We recognize that moles, excrescences & skin tags can be unpleasant and also create long-term issues along with individual issues.

How much does it cost to do a facelift?

Types of Facelift SurgeryUSAIndiaFull Facelift Surgery$15,000$3,200Upper Facelift Surgery$12,000$2,700Lower Face & Neck Surgery$20,000$3,900Suture Necklift Surgery$10,000$2,2001 more row

examination.

Whatever therapy you're searching for CoLaz Advanced Appeal Expert make sure to give the very best service for you. The extremely trained team of doctors as well as specialists are specialists in determining the best course of action for every customer, depending on their skin needs as well as use cutting-edge technology as well as products to get the best outcomes.

How Safe Is facelift surgery?

Complications of facelift surgery are infrequent, and cosmetic procedures are generally safe, as long as they are carried out by a qualified and experienced professional.

These consist of All-inclusive Total Care where a single one-off repayment at a pre-agreed rate supplies direct access to all the treatment they need for complete peace of mind, pay as you go as well as, interest-free medical money lendings. Your treatment group will certainly offer you guidance regarding your recovery procedure as well as exactly how to look after your wound.

How long after a facelift can I sleep on my side?

Immediately Following Surgery: You should rest with your head elevated in a recliner or with at least 2 pillows for at least the first week after surgery. Try not to sleep on the side of your face but rather sleep with the back of your head on the pillow for about two weeks.

The arise from a Femilift procedure differ from individual to person, and will depend upon why you're having actually the treatment done. Our consultations are in-depth as well as customized to you, developing a bespoke treatment plan satisfying your problems. On the other hand physicians have actually released a warning regarding the risks of "genital scratching" as females try to eliminate all traces of their ex lover. Pelvic floor fixing is available for ladies for whom the tissues have become overstretched - referred to as a prolapse. Nonetheless, this is an unpleasant clinical issue and also should be dealt with by a physician. We offer a selection of three efficient treatments for eliminating skin tags. Why not publication an appointment with among our skin treatment experts; they will examine your skin tag, address your inquiries and also suggest the most effective therapies for you.

[let-it-raines]

Not Your (soul)Mate {8/15}

Killian Jones doesn’t like the idea of soulmates. He sees how happy his friends are with theirs, but he still doesn’t like the idea, not when he’s found love and lost it time and time again only to still not know his sign. He has no markings on his skin, no voices in his head, but then one day he meets Emma Swan and everything changes. Because, well, he may not have ink on his skin to tell him who to love, but the very first time that he hears Emma’s voice he knows that she’s the one for him. Then again, that could simply be his desire talking. After all, for every word she speaks, he becomes aroused.

It’s not the worst thing in the world to be incredibly attracted to a beautiful woman, but things aren’t that simple when she doesn’t have any interest in being his soulmate.

He’s screwed. And not in the good way.

Rating: Mature

A/N: This is in my top 3 favorite chapters for this story, so I’m more than excited to share it with you guys! I’m also sharing it a little (super) early for @thejollyroger-writer because she’s a sweetheart. And maybe because I think everyone deserves a little happiness, and I think this chapter will bring you guys some happiness❤️

And check out that new artwork from @captainsjedi! Isn’t it awesome? She’s also a sweetheart who deserves all of the love 💜

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“Why are you sweating?”

“Because it’s hot.”

“Not that hot.”

“You’re pregnant, A. Your hormones are all messed up, so I don’t trust your temperature gauge.”

Ariel groans next to her and sinks down further on the swing they’re sitting on in Mary Margaret and David’s backyard. Their house is like some kind of weird farm paradise, and Emma loves being out here when she needs to relax. This fourth of July party has not turned out to be relaxing in the slightest.

That’s really not a shocker considering that crazy shit seems to happen on this day every year. Give people a few beers and the promise of lights exploding in the sky and all of the sudden they forget that today isn’t some bubble that doesn’t extend to tomorrow. There are always consequences to actions.

“Babe, doesn’t Emma look flushed to you?”

She hides her face behind her hands as Eric looks at her, seemingly peering into her soul while he tries to see if her face looks flushed. It does. It’s kind of hot and humid outside, and she’s honestly still a little hot and bothered by Killian from earlier. Damn him. Seriously damn him for purposefully riling her up in front of all of these people where she can’t sneak away and go hide in a corner somewhere while she calms herself down. One day the two of them are going to explode at each other, and she’s terrified to think about the consequences.

Because yet again, she seems to be the only one thinking about consequences.

It’s all fun and games until someone talks too much, and she fucks the absolute last person she wants to fuck.

No, wait, scratch that. Killian is not the last person. There are several people on that list way ahead of him, but for the emotional repercussions, she is not sleeping with him.

She is not sleeping with her soulmate.

(She is not sleeping with anyone.)

Even if she finds him funny and charming and very possibly nice. But that’s how every man is at the beginning, and she’s not falling for it again, predestined or not.

They can talk (kind of) and be in the same place, but she’s not dating him.

And she really needs him to stop messing with her, at least for today. It’s fine when they’re passing each other notes through food - even if his notes are obnoxious - or when they’re both riling each other up while they’re submerged in the water with a few people around, but when she’s got every single person she knows within a ten foot radius, Killian messing with her is not an ideal situation.

Two can play at the game and all that, but sometimes she’s simply not in the mood.

Today is one of those days.

“She does look a little red. You feeling okay?”

“Besides the fact that I’m on this swing with you guys while you treat me like I’m your child, I’m fine.”

“Fine is never fine.”

“You have got to stop saying that,” she sighs, leaning her head over on Ariel’s shoulder, fully embracing her role as their adult child, which kind of seems like it’s an oxymoron. It also kind of seems like it simply describes a hell of a lot of men she knows. “Sometimes fine is fine.”

“You sure? I know today isn’t a very fun day for you.”

Of course Ariel remembers. How could she not? She knows all even when Emma doesn’t tell her. Some kind of red-headed oracle.

“I’m just glad he’s not here. It would be a very Walsh move to show up at the Nolans’ party knowing that I’m here. He was such a dick.”

“The biggest dick.”

“Second biggest dick, but he definitely didn’t have the second biggest dick if you know what I mean.”

“I feel like I shouldn’t be here for this conversation,” Eric groans while she and Ariel laugh a bit. Maybe she is an adult child if she’s laughing at small dick jokes. Maybe some people deserve to have small dick jokes made about them.

“Don’t worry, hon,” Ariel placates, patting her husband’s thigh, “we won’t scar you by informing you that other men also have penises. I know that must be shocking for you.”

“I have got to stop spending time with the two of you together.”

“Please,” she scoffs, blindly reaching over Ariel’s shoulder until she finds Eric’s, “you married one of us and knocked her up, so I’d say that bodes pretty well for how much you love us.”

“Or how much I love my wife.”

“Well, we’re a packaged deal, Fisher. A two for one.”

“What about Belle?”

“Oh you’re right. We come in a pack of three.”

“That could be both terrifying and incredibly arousing.”

“Hey,” Ariel groans, sitting up so that Emma’s head falls a bit off of her shoulder and onto the wood of the swing.

“What? If you can point out that other men have dicks, I can point out that your friends are capable of sex. I’d punch Walsh if he showed up here, by the way,” he adds on, almost making her forget how much she never wants to think about Eric thinking about her having sex again. If she had a dad, that would almost be like her dad thinking about her having sex. Then again, Ariel has definitely shared her sex life with Emma, and this all gets more disturbing the longer she’s left alone with her thoughts. “He was an idiot to ever think he could do better than you.”

Technically he could with his soulmate, but she’s not going to think about that. It’s not like he cheated on her with his soulmate or anything, not that it would have made the situation any better. It’s kind of a shit move to date someone knowing that they’re not your soulmate and then cheating on them with your actual soulmate instead of simply telling your partner that you want to break up. It happens all the damn time, and it’s like people have forgotten basic decency.

Walsh definitely had. They’d been dating since last January, and on the fourth of July last year she’d found him sleeping with this red-headed woman in Mary Margaret’s guest bedroom in the middle of this party. Apparently, it had been going on for two or three months, which was nearly half of their relationship, and he had the gall to cheat on her at one of her best friend’s houses during a holiday party with everyone in town just a few feet away. She didn’t even want to come today, the memories of it leading her down a dark path that inevitably always leads to Neal, but Belle had dragged her out of her bedroom and told her that they were coming to this party no matter what.

And it’s been fine. No one has mentioned last year, not even Leroy. At least yet. His mouth tends to get a little looser when he’s had too much to drink, but she hopes that being at a party with every cop in town will keep him in line.

She’s just going to avoid the guest bedroom at all costs. She won’t even sleep in there when she stays over. She’ll sleep on the couch or the bottom bunk in Leo’s bedroom.

But anything to avoid the guest bedroom.

Even if she really needed to go release some tension earlier when Killian was messing with her. She’d nearly dropped the coleslaw her legs were so shaky when they were putting the side dishes out. She’s glad that Elsa came by with Luca trailing right behind her because if Luca, who is so obviously in awe of her uncle, hadn’t been there, she would have very gladly told him to fuck off.

On another day she’ll give him a snarky napkin note like they’ve been doing, but she doesn’t feel like it right now. She doesn’t have the sass or sarcasm in her.

“Thank you,” she finally tells Eric, not knowing what else to say. “Is the sun ever going to set or are we going to be out here in this hot misery forever?”

“I think we might be out here forever. I need to pee.”

Ariel gets up off of the swing and wipes her hands against her dress, the curve of her stomach more obvious today than it’s ever been, and excuses herself to head inside while Eric does the same, claiming that he needs another beer. She could go for some of the whiskey that David keeps in the kitchen on the top shelf that she can’t get to without using a chair to step up on. She knows it’s so their six-year-old doesn’t accidentally get into it, but a part of her thinks that it’s so that she doesn’t get into it either.

Jokes on him because she’s smart enough to be able to get to it all.

Not that she’s going to. Instead she gets up from the swing and follows Ariel and Eric to the main part of the backyard where everyone is milling around. She grabs another bottle of water from the cooler and makes her way around the yard, speaking to everyone she knows...which unfortunately is everyone. When she was a deputy, she spent nearly every day talking to the people in town, and even though she still does that, her promotion which is only really half of a promotion even with the title change and pay raise, it’s not as much as it used to be. There could be new people in their little circle of friends, and she could have no idea.

Or she could have an idea and simply not see the people.

Killian is a great example of that.

She hates that she’s so drawn to him. It’s like he’s a flame when it’s dark outside, and she’s a damn bug heading toward the brightness and warmth of the light. That’s the worst metaphor she’s ever made (even if her car is a bug), but there’s a reason she was never an English major and wouldn’t have been if she had gone to college. It’s not her thing. She’s drawn to him. She knows why. It’s pretty much inevitable that she would be, but she’s never been one for sure things.

The inevitable doesn’t always have to be that way. She’s never been a fan of following the rules even if her occupation says otherwise.

She glances up and sees Killian sitting with his feet in the pool, his legs hanging over the edge of the water, and tossing an inflated ball back and forth between Leo, Luis, and Luca.

(Ariel better name her kid with something with a name other than an “L” because that is far too much for her to have to keep up with.)

She can hear the murmurings of his voice over all of the people between them, but it’s muted, barely a whisper above the crowd. It’s not usually like that, and she wonders just how loud it is here for her to not be able to hear him clearly when they’re within twenty feet of each other. She’s never tested out the range, but she thinks that’s a pretty good estimate.

He seems relaxed, carefree, and she bets that no part of him cares that he’s getting water all over his button up as the kids splash him. How in the world did he even end up over there when there are so many better things to be doing? Then again, she’s the one sitting on top of a portable cooler staring at him and working on her second bottle of water this hour, so it’s not like she’s got a lot of room to say anything.

He looks really good in that light blue shirt, and his hair has gotten a little longer so that these few pieces more prominently hang over his forehead even though the sides are pretty tightly cut. She likes it more than she’s willing to admit, and she bets it’d be soft to run her hands through.

Not that she’ll ever know the answer to that query.

“Whatcha staring at, kid?”

“You’re five years older than me,” she sighs, scooting over so David can have some room on the cooler as well, the hair on his leg brushing up against her thigh.

“Ah,” David groans, reaching over and taking her water from her before he takes a sip, “but I feel a solid two decades older than you some days because you often act like Leo. I mean, you sure as hell eat like him.”

“You’re always complaining about my food, but you’re always eating it. I mean, you ate half of that bread basket before I took it home.”

“What can I say? Killian knows how to pick out some pastries.”

That saying about jaws dropping and hitting the floor feels pretty apt right now as her jaw opens a little, her lips parting, and she kind of feels like she’s just been hit in the face by the ball Killian and the kids are tossing around. How in the world would he know that? There was no name on the note, and she made a point not to tell him. There was a whole thing. She knows. She remembers.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You may be able to tell when others are lying, but you are the worst liar.”

“I am not.”

“You’re as bad as Leo,” David chuckles, knocking his shoulder into hers at the same time that she watches Killian throw his head back, laughter shaking his shoulders and his stomach moving. She can hear it a little more loudly this time, but she imagines that it’s because she’s trying to focus on anything other than David right now. “And Mr. French told me who sent the basket when I complimented him on the blueberry muffins. He went on and on about how Killian Jones bought out the entire bakery for that basket and how he must really like you.”

She’d like to go back to the swing with Ariel and Eric right now and die from the heat. That would be preferable to this.

Hell, maybe she’ll strip out of her clothes and streak through the yard so someone will have to arrest her and put her in jail for the night. That, too, would be preferable to this.

“It’s not what it looks like,” she sighs, wishing that she hadn’t left her phone inside to charge so she’d have something to fiddle with.

“What? You and Killian aren’t in some kind of secret relationship where he woos you with bread?”

“No, though I think all people should be wooed with bread or food. Forget jewelry. Food is the new romantic gift.”

“So you were wooed by the pastries?”

“I was not wooed,” she huffs, hitting her knuckles against his knee while she watches Mary Margaret walk around and offer everyone dessert. The woman really never stops. It’s insane. They should probably get up and help. “I’d like to make that very clear. Killian Jones is not wooing me or flirting with me or courting me. Killian Jones is doing nothing to me.”

Though she has dreamed otherwise.

Dammit.

“He’s staring at you right now.”

Her eyes find Killian’s across the yard. He could have stared at her this entire time, and she wouldn’t have cared as long as he wasn’t staring at her while David was paying attention. Their timing is just fantastic.

“I - I don’t…” she stutters, the heat on her cheeks rising again as her tongue seems to twist itself inside of her mouth, keeping her from forming coherent words. That probably stems from the fact that she can’t seem to form coherent thoughts, so maybe her brain is all twisted up too. That doesn’t seem quite right, but what does she know? “He’s like a friend.”

“So a friend?”

“No, like a friend. It’s different.”

“How the hell does that make any sense?”

“It’s,” she starts again, waving her hands around. “We are friendly to each other, but we are not actively friends. Like, we poke fun and tease at each other, but there are some mitigating issues that keep us from actually being friends.”

“Like the fact that you very obviously have feelings for the man.”

“Feelings of annoyance? Yes.”

“Feelings of appreciation, maybe. You know, Emma, it’s not a bad thing to have feelings for someone.”

“It hasn’t seemed to work that way in the past. You remember last year.”

“I had to burn my sheets. Of course I remember.”

She laughs a little and adjusts herself on the cooler, tapping her fingers against her own knee and wondering if she can wear jeans for the next week so that she doesn’t have to shave. It’s probably too hot for that, but this is summer in Maine. Tomorrow she could walk out of her apartment having to wear her jacket.

“I don’t...when I say it’s complicated with him, I really do mean it. It’s not like how you and Mary Margaret are. You guys have got some genuine love, even if it does make me want to vomit sometimes, and I think I’m biologically programmed not to have that.”

David’s arm wraps around her shoulder, and he pulls her into her side so that his lips can brush against her temple. Such a dad. “You have genuine love in your life. There are a lot of people who love you, and you have to know that. And maybe if there is someone out there who makes you smile or makes you laugh, soulmate or not, that could be some genuine love too. Not all love burns up and dies.”

“Can we talk about something else?” she deflects, her eyes trained on a few blades of grass that are not quite as green as the rest of the yard. Her heart is practically in her stomach at this point, and she would do anything not to think about relationships or her past or the man that’s sitting with his legs dangling in the pool.

“Sure,” David agrees. “I have just been itching to have someone to talk to about the propane tanks on the grill.”

“Oh my gosh.”

David does talk about his propane tanks for a little while, boring her to death, but he eventually moves on to the Yankees game last night and to some big philosophy talk on why baseball and sport in general is so important to the general population. It’s not at all what she was expecting, but it kind of cracks her up as David rambles on. He’s obviously had a few beers today, which is only a little worrisome since he’s in charge of lighting the fireworks tonight. Working with explosives seems like something only sober people should do.

It very rarely is.

As the sun starts to fully set, darkness finally beginning to cover the sky, she excuses herself from the party, grabbing a bottle of beer and climbing up the ladder to Leo’s treehouse. This has to be the best place to view the fireworks from, and she’s surprised that no one else ever comes up here to watch. It’s a bit of a loner habit of hers, not that she’s lacking in those, and as she stands against the open window with her elbows propped on the wood, she watches all of her friends move around the backyard, everyone that was inside relishing in the air conditioning coming outside, Wilby nipping at the heels probably looking for scraps.

Ariel and Eric have found their way back to the swing, the two of them chatting with each other, and she sees Belle and Will sitting at a table with Robin and Regina. Roland must have been with his mom for the first half of the party because he’s now here and running around with the rest of the kids, all of them still in their swimsuits. If only she could have that much energy. That would be worth piles of gold. Ruby is being predictably Ruby, standing at the center of a crowd making everyone laugh. She can practically see Elsa’s blush from here, and when she sees Liam standing with his arm over his wife’s shoulder, she realizes that someone is missing from the crowd.

“See anything interesting?” Killian asks from behind her, her skin breaking out into bumps at the sound of his voice.

Of course he’s up here.

She doesn’t like it, but she doesn’t necessarily dislike it either, which pretty much sums up a lot of things about her life.

She simply grunts in response, not feeling like talking or causing the two of them any issues. No part of her will ever be over this part of her life, and she wonders if this will ever get better, if it’ll ever be possible to be in the same room as Killian without being driven crazy.

(Like, if this is what the universe wants for the two of them, does it expect for them to never have any kind of meaningful conversation? She still doesn’t understand that part.)

She wonders if she wants that.

Mostly she wonders why she wants that.

And when Killian comes to stand next to her, the scent of sweat and chlorine obvious on him, she laughs when he puts down a notepad between them, a pen resting on top of it. Twisting her head to side, she sees that his lips are curved into a smirk, the right side higher than the left, and the same goes for his eyebrows, one practically in his hairline. That’s definitely his signature move. He nods down at the notepad, and her gaze finds the words written there.

I’m sorry that I’m an asshole and was messing with you earlier.

She puts her beer down and picks up the pen, scribbling on the paper.

It’s okay.

You didn’t seem okay.

Bad day.

Want to talk about it?

Or, write about it.

Independence Day is also the day that my last boyfriend took independence from me and cheated on me. At this party.

She has no idea why she wrote that, and if she had an eraser, she’d get rid of the evidence. But she doesn’t.

I’m sorry. He sounds like a wanker.

He is. Your brother is a sloppy drinker.

She hears Killian’s chuckle, and twists her head to look up at him and his smile again.

A bloody lightweight. It’s fun to get him drunk. He talks out of his ass and is genuinely funny for once in his life.

Oh I don’t know. I think he’s the funniest Jones brother.

That’s because you haven’t really been truly humored by me yet.

Your face does make me laugh.

Because you can’t handle its beauty?

She should have known that joke was coming with him, and she should have the strength to resist laughing at it, but she can’t help herself. She snickers, the sound passing through her lips, and she realizes that she feels lighter than she has all day even with the air getting heavier around her, the humidity increasing as the night goes on with the threat of more thunderstorms the next day. The fact that today was sunny still surprises her.

Killian winks when he sees her smiling, and she leans back to put a little more space between them. That wink doesn’t make her stomach feel some type of way at all.

“What?” he speaks aloud as he leans back again, resting his shoulder against the treehouse wall.

“Nothing.”

“If you’re sure.”

She’s not sure. Really, no part of her is sure about anything. But she’s kind of feeling good right now, feeling like maybe today isn’t all bad despite all of those lingering feelings and everyone bringing up her relationship status today and making her think about her past. The first boy she ever kissed was named Blake, and he was about as average in his name as he was in kissing. She’s sure that he’s gotten better, that he’s improved since they were fourteen, but she’ll always have the memory of that sloppy mess.

The first boy she ever loved, though, was Neal Cassidy. She was seventeen, and he was a little older. Looking back she realizes that a twenty-three-year-old should not have been dating a seventeen-year-old, but for the first time in her life, she felt loved and secure and happy that someone wanted to be her. Who she was then is not who she is now, and whether she likes it or not, a lot of that is because of Neal. He was adventurous and charming, always talking her into doing just about anything, and they dated for a little under three years.

He was...she loved him, and he thought that she was perfect. That’s something that he was always calling her, and now, when she hears the word, it sends chills down her spine. He called her perfect and wonderful and he made her believe that she was this person who he treasured being with. And then she peed on a stick and the word “pregnant” popped up, and suddenly that one word made every other kind word that Neal called her be replaced with things like “irresponsible” and “loose” and a “slut.” He was the only person she’d ever slept with, and he was calling her a slut.

Not that sleeping around makes anyone a slut. She’d just...that’s how Neal made her feel.

She wasn’t pregnant, though.

That’s the real kicker of the whole thing. There she was almost twenty years old taking a pregnancy test and thinking she was going to have a baby with the guy she loved only for him to lose his mind and scare her to the point that she didn’t feel safe. That night he packed a bag and left, for Tallahassee where his father lived, he’d said. He was running away, he was leaving, and he was abandoning her.

She thought he was her family, that they were making a family together, and he abandoned her.

Just like everyone else.

She’d say that her baby abandoned her, but there was never any baby. It was a cheap test, a false positive, and to this day she still hates to admit that she’s upset that she wasn’t pregnant, that she didn’t get to have a family of her own for once in her life. She knows how naive she was about it all, especially because Neal convinced her that they were soulmates because they didn’t have obvious signs.

Especially since her probable, actual soulmate is currently standing in front of her with pretty blue eyes and a kind smile that seems to happen whenever he makes her laugh.

Even when he frustrates her, he makes her feel good in a way that she hasn’t felt in awhile, and maybe she deserves to do something reckless for once. It’s been a long time, since she lived in Boston and before the police academy really, and she wants to feel good.

“You know, Swan, most of the time when women look at me like you’re looking at me, I get to know if their undergarments match. But you did say that I’ll never know that about you, and I guess I’ll have to be okay with that. I do have a vivid imagination.”

Cheeky asshole.

Why in the world is she charmed by his flirting?

She hesitates, not entirely sure if she wants this, but he’s been driving her crazy since April and she wants to know. She wants to know just what it would be like to steal the words from Killian’s lips, to make him stop talking and actually act on his words, but mostly she wants to take advantage of the fact that she is so turned on right now that she can’t think of anything other than Killian’s lips on hers.

Stepping forward, the wood of Leo’s treehouse creaking underneath her footstep, she grabs onto the collar of his shirt and slams her lips into his. It takes a moment for him to kiss back, which makes sense for how out of nowhere this must seem, but before she can think about it too much, his right hand is threading into her hair, twisting her head so that his lips can wrap around her upper lip, and his left hand is falling down to rest at her waist, nearly palming her ass. He tugs her closer, their bodies completely pressed up against each other, and she groans at the same time Killian does, his hardening length pressing into her hip through his jeans. Everything about Killian’s kiss is desperate, hurried, and she can’t get enough. There’s never going to be enough of this, and even though his lips are only on hers, she wears she can feel them on every inch of her skin.

She swears that she is on fire right now, and she wouldn’t mind going down in the flames.

When Killian’s tongue teases at the seam of her lips, she doesn’t hesitate before opening her mouth to his, letting their tongues tangle together in a slick, wet slide that has tiny fireworks exploding over her flesh and making every thought except more  escape from her mind. She wants more of the warmth of his body, more of the softness or his lips, and more of the rough scratch of his beard against her skin.

She wants more of him.

There is nothing else, no one else, and as Killian’s hand firmly becomes planted on her ass and her fingers wander to his hair, finally feeling just how soft the strands are, all she can feel is him.

And all she can see behind her closed eyes are bright blue lights exploding into the sky and bringing her out of the darkness.

But then there’s a boom, a rather large one in fact, and she startles back when she realizes that it’s not one of the metaphorical fireworks that she can still feel flickering across her skin, especially on her chin where Killian’s scruff is rubbing into her. It’s a very real, very bright firework that she watches explode in the air through the window of the treehouse all the while her forehead still rests against Killian’s, their breaths intermingling.

He tasted kind of like rum, and she wonders where he found that.

It’s like everything comes back to her as blue and green sparks explode against the inky midnight blue of the sky, and she knows the light warm air in the sky will evaporate the moment her body is no longer pressed up against Killian’s, the heavy humidity enveloping her. But she moves back anyway, their hips no longer pressed together even as their foreheads stay the same.

“That was - “

“A one time thing,” she gasps, letting her hands fall from his hair and her feet step away, nearly tripping in the dip in the wood. She shouldn’t have done that. They shouldn’t have done that. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. She’s not supposed to fall for him, and she tells herself that she’s not, that it’s simply because the universe is tricking them into it. She doesn’t care.

She’s emotional today and he was talking and he knows how to charm her. It’s...she doesn’t care, and all of her earlier thoughts about caring for him were lies.

(She can’t get hurt again.)

But that can’t explain why she can’t look Killian in the eye and why she has to look toward the ladder, her focus completely on getting away. “Stay up here for awhile,” she whispers, ignoring the swell of her lips as she moves toward the ladder. “I’m going inside. Don’t...don’t follow me.”

She doesn’t listen to see if he answers or replies, to see if he calls out to her, because she can’t hear a damn thing over the loud thumping of her heart as it pounds between her ears, decidedly not where it’s supposed to be. But as she’s climbing down the ladder, her legs nearly falling out beneath her for how unsteady they are, she hears another “as you wish” followed by the loud boom of a firework.

Only this time, there’s no light exploding into the sky.

[me-myself-and-my-fos]

Happily Ever After: Reception

Pairing: Archie Hopper x Nicole Hopper

Word Count: 1705

Summary: The night is almost over, but a few things must happen first...

Tags: @miyuswhoopsiedoodles @robotarmjokes @starlovez @dancing-with-skeletons @24hourshipping @astralshipper @svperflxsh @lildreamysoul @betsysinlove @kittyandco @pastelnacht

Nic wasn’t a dancer. She usually tripped over her feet or stepped on Archie’s toes. He never minded, and he especially didn’t mind now as they had their first dance as husband and wife. She was glad it was only one dance at the moment, not really enjoying the amount of eyes on her. But she kept her own eyes focused on Archie as he smiled down at her, and she wasn’t able to stop the blush on her face.

The music subtly transitioned to a different song, and Nic wouldn’t have caught on to the change if it weren’t the flood of couples coming to the dance floor. She let out a sigh of relief, glad the attention wasn’t on her anymore. The only attention she wanted was from her husband.

“Mind if I cut in?” Asked a voice.

Or not, she thought to herself. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t secretly hoping to be able to sneak away with Archie at some point. But she should know better at this point. The newlyweds were always doted on at weddings.

“Of course not,” Archie said, stepping away and allowing David to take his place. Nic almost gave him an annoyed look, but she was too late. Snow had already traded partners and taken Archie for herself. So Nic put on a smile and allowed David to guide her although he was just as bad at dancing as she was. Growing up on a farm, he didn’t get any chances to practice formal dancing despite becoming a prince.

David smiled at Nic. “You look beautiful.”

She huffed out her nose, the tint on her cheeks getting darker. “Shut up, Charming.”

He could help but laugh. “I’m serious.” David pressed a kiss to her head. It was a gesture he did to comfort her. It was from their days in the Enchanted Forest but he refused to give up the habit. As far as he was concerned, she was the closest thing he had to a sister. “You’ve come so far since our days in the forest.” His grin grew. “I’m glad you got everything you deserve.”

“Thank you, David.” She smiled, genuinely. “I never thought I’d get this, but here I am… newly married of all things! I always thought my story would end with me alone on a farm or something.”

“Care to dance?” A second figure asked, a hook coming into view. Killian grinned at his father-in-law and Nic. “What? I couldn’t miss a chance to dance with the newly Mrs. Cricket.”

Nic rolled her eyes as David stepped aside. “If I wasn’t in such a good mood you’d lose your other hand.” She said.

Killian laughed. “Easy, love,” he teased, “save the rough stuff for your honeymoon.”

As he danced with Snow, Archie couldn’t help but try and catch a few glances at Nic as she danced with David. She looked happy, he hoped she was. All he wanted was for her to be happy.

“You can’t stop staring at her can you?” Snow asked, a playful grin on her face.

“Oh—what?” His attention snapped back to his dance partner, “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help—” he started to apologize but the smile Snow gave him said that everything was fine.

“You look happy,” she stated.

“Well I am happy.”

“I know but… I’ve never seen you like this.” She shook her head. “You spent so long trying to help other people find their happiness, I’m glad you finally get a chance to have yours for once.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been happier.” Archie replied.

“Do you mind if I steal my wife back?” David cut in. “Hook decided he wanted to dance.” The pair ceased dancing and Snow took her husband’s hand. They both gave Archie a ‘congratulations’ before walking off to mingle.

As if on cue, Regina walked over and stood beside Archie. “I believe a congratulations is in order.”

“Thank you, Regina.” He smiled over at her a moment.

“With that being said,” she faced him, arms crossed over her chest, “I may have changed but I still regard Nic as family, so just know that if you ever hurt her there will be consequences.”

“I wouldn’t—”

“But,” she added, “I know you, and I know that no one loves her more than you do. So I’m not worried.”

An hour or so passed of mingling and dancing, most of it was separate for Archie and Nic. They had yet to spend for than five minutes together, but that didn’t stop them from stealing glances at each other from across the room. She was delighted to get to talk Marco, and even August had pulled himself away from his typewriter for the day. Her husband being the more social of the couple, Nic was sure Archie somehow had probably managed to talk to everyone attending. She was barely able to handle the dwarves as they all talked over each other and argued over who got to dance with her first. He always made everything look so easy.

Eventually Nic had enough of mingling and sat at one of the tables that circled the dance floor. She smiled and let out a small laugh as little Robin Mills and Neal Charming occupied themselves with bothering Pongo who was attempting to sleep underneath the table next to where Nic was sitting. After a few moments alone, Snow sat down at the same table as Nic, smiling at her.

“Congratulations,” Snow began with. “Nic, I hope you know you deserve this.”

“Thank you,” Nic smiled as she spotted Archie and Emma dancing, “I can’t believe this actually happened.”

“Believe it,” Snow laughed. “We’re all so happy for you. I remember how alone you kept yourself for the longest time, how you refused to admit when you had feelings for him.”

Nic rolled her eyes playfully. “And then you and David set us up on a date.”

“But it still took him getting kidnapped a second time for you to finally confess.”

“That was an accident. I didn’t mean to, I mean it would’ve happened eventually but… I didn’t mean for it to come out like it did.”

“But look where you are now.”

“Yeah…” Nic chuckled.

The conversation got quiet as Rumplestiltskin and Belle walked over. Belle was holding Gideon on her hip, but they all held smiles.

“You guys made it,” Nic said relieved. She hugged Belle tightly for a moment.

“Of course we did,” Belle laughed, “we wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

“There is one thing,” Rumple started. “You still owe me a favor.”

“And you want me to make good on that now?” Nic raised a brow.

Rumple held out a hand. “How about a dance?”

She blinked, not expecting that. “Oh, uh, as long as that’s okay with Belle.”

Belle shook her head, “I have no problem with it.”

Nic took Rumple’s hand and let him guide her to dance. Belle sat down in the seat Nic had previously occupied, Gideon in her lap as Snow cooed over the toddler.

“You look very lovely, I must say.” Rumple said. “Belle and I were delighted when we got the invitation.”

“Archie insisted,” Nic replied. “He hoped you two would come.”

“We couldn’t pass up the chance, and I don’t think I ever did thank him for officiating for Belle and I.”

“I’m sure he’d be glad to see you,” Nic told him, gesturing in the direction where Archie was talking with Henry and Marco. “He’s been talking to people all evening, it’s very like him.”

Rumple nodded, giving her a hug and gesturing for Belle to follow so they could greet Archie together. Belle took Gideon from his spot on Snow’s lap and followed her husband, the couple giving Nic a ‘congratulations’ before walking over to the groom. She sighed and started to walk back over to where Snow was sitting when a hand gently took her wrist. Looking over her shoulder, she smiled when she saw her husband.

“Hey,” she greeted him. This was the first time she’s felt relaxed all evening. He always seemed to have that effect on her. “I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too,” he smiled, leaning down to kiss her softly. “We’ve both been quite busy.”

She huffed, “Tell me about it.”

“I–I have a surprise for you.” He told her anxiously.

She raised a brow. “Oh?”

He nodded. “Yes.” Archie pressed a kiss to Nic’s head and took her hand in his, tugging her towards the dance floor. She resisted for a moment, not having another dance in her. But his touch and the look he gave her made her almost give in.

“Archie,” she whined softly.

He stepped forward, bringing her hand up to press a kiss to her knuckles. “Just one last dance, please.”

Nic thought for a moment before nodding. “One last dance.” Archie smiled and pulled her towards the dance floor. He pulled her close, hands on her waist as the music began to play. The beginning of the instrumental started, and Nic instantly recognized the song. It was her favorite song, something Archie sometimes softly sang to her when she woke from a nightmare on the rare occasion. She started to tear up at just the music.

“Well I've heard there was a secret chord,” he softly started to sing to her. Nic couldn’t help as she stared at him in awe. The song that she loved the most in the world and here he was singing it to her as they had their last dance. “That David played and it pleased the Lord. But you don't really care for music, do you?”

Nic couldn’t stop smiling as she listened to him.

“Well it goes like this: The fourth, the fifth, th—”

She couldn’t stop herself from kissing him, pulling him down and pressing her lips to his. A few tears fell down her cheeks but she didn’t care, all she cared about was her husband. Once they were both out of air, she pulled away, smiling at him tearfully.

“I love you so much, Archie Hopper.” She whispered.

“I love you too, Nicole Hopper.” He whispered back.

And they lived happily ever after...

[infernare]

Writing Challenge #1

@ofshadowedhearts and I were talking about how roleplay has made us kind of forget how to write for ourselves. Then I remembered this really fun challenges that we used to do in fanfic forums that resulted in super awesome and diverse fanfics, and I thought I’d start my own, both to inspire others and myself.

SUBJECT  —  Ephemeral

(This is the star of your work: make sure whatever you end up writing, you explore this subject with.)

THEMES

(Choose one to be the main inspiration for your work. You can interpret it however you like, it can be a literal interpretation, or you can twist it, it doesn’t matter as long as it is relevant to your work.)

We were the people who were not in the papers. We lived in the blank white spaces at the edges of print. It gave us more freedom. We lived in the gaps between the stories.  — Margaret Atwood, The Handmaid’s Tale

Life appears to me too short to be spent in nursing animosity or registering wrongs. — Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

We cast a shadow on something wherever we stand, and it is no good moving from place to place to save things; because the shadow always follows. Choose a place where you won’t do harm - yes, choose a place where you won’t do very much harm, and stand in it for all you are worth, facing the sunshine. — E.M. Forster, A Room With A View

Memories warm you up from the inside. But they also tear you apart. — Haruki Murakami, Kafka On The Shore

We can experience nothing but the present moment, live in no other second of time, and to understand this is as close as we can get to eternal life. — P.D. James, The Children Of Men

She had waited all her life for something, and it had killed her when it found her. — Zora Neale Hurston, Their Eyes Were Watching God

Nothing is so painful to the human mind as a great and sudden change. — Mary Shelley, Frankenstein

Why can't people have what they want? The things were all there to content everybody; yet everybody has the wrong thing. — Ford Madox Ford, The Good Soldier

Some birds are not meant to be caged, that's all. Their feathers are too bright, their songs too sweet and wild. So you let them go, or when you open the cage to feed them they somehow fly out past you. And the part of you that knows it was wrong to imprison them in the first place rejoices, but still, the place where you live is that much more drab and empty for their departure. — Stephen King, Rita Hayworth And The Shawshank Redemption (Different Seasons)

Forgiving isn't something you do for someone else. It's something you do for yourself. It's saying, 'You're not important enough to have a stranglehold on me.' It's saying, 'You don't get to trap me in the past. I am worthy of a future.' — Jodi Picoult, The Storyteller

ITEMS

(Choose at least 3 (three), but as many as you like. The challenge here is to make them relevant.)

Identical twins

A broken wristwatch

A stolen ring

A recipe

A scream

A small lie that gets bigger and bigger

A secret diary

Something unpleasant under the bed

Ex-boy/girlfriend

A dream

A superstition

Terrible advice

A letter

An important something lost

Fate

A favorite color

A small misunderstanding with big consequences

The sea or lake

Judgment

Flowers

RULES

There aren’t many rules. The only rule is that you must write about the subject — your interpretation of it is up to you, but it has to be somehow relevant to the work. The themes and items provided should both inspire you and help you focus on a particular idea rather than staring at a blank page with too many possibilities. It can be daunting to write when you don’t have any structure. That’s what this challenge is meant for! You can write a drabble, a one-shot, a chaptered story, the format is up to you, but it has to be at least 500 words. Let’s keep it to original characters so by the end of it we’ll have a complete original work. If you want to get #serious about this, here is a guide on word count per book genre. The only thing we ask of the participants is that they read everyone else’s entries, and leave some constructive feedback for them. 

DEADLINE — February 15, 2020

If by the end of the deadline, your work isn’t ready, you can request a postponement. This means that you could have up to four months to work on your entry! 

1st postponement: March 15

2nd postponement: April 15

Final postponement: May 15

SIGNING UP & SUBMITTING ENTRY

Reply to this post if you plan on giving this a try. It doesn’t obligate you to participate, but it’s nice to know who else is thinking about doing it. 

Once you’re done, post the work on your account with the tag #wc.one and message me here so I can add a link to it on this post (just in case tumblr fucks up the tags).

And that’s it! Good luck to us and happy writing! 

[ilovemesomekillianjones]

Happenstance Ch. 2

A/N: As I am almost done with the epilogue, I have decided to post a chapter every other day instead of everyday. Thank you @hookedonapirate for serving as beta extraordinaire!

Rated T          ao3          ffnet          1.7k          Ch. 1

Chapter 2

One more bloody year, he thought. He was sitting out back, letting the sun shine down on him. There were few precious moments until school was back in session, and then he’d be a senior.  There was nothing exciting about the prospect; he’d had one foot out the door upon arriving at Ingrid’s group home for teens. He stuck to himself, he didn’t need anyone in his life, and he damn sure didn’t want anyone, although he did much prefer this group home to the last.  The insurance policy from Liam was what paid for Killian to be at the group home, and where Gold had kept the full check, as was normal in a foster situation, Ingrid kept what she needed to feasibly support Killian’s means, and gave him the rest. She was also a decent human being, which was always favorable where foster care was concerned.  

He watched as the Swan girl walked across the lawn; she was a quiet one. And way too good for that prick of a boyfriend of hers. She held her arms around her midsection as if trying to protect herself from some unknown threat. Watching her and that look on her face, he remembered back to when he’d first arrived.

Killian had just unpacked his few possessions into his new room. He was bitter. He shouldn’t have to be in the care of anyone; he could take care of himself better than anyone else had since Liam’s passing. He’d headed out back to get fresh air; he felt nothing, except when he felt anger. Keeping to himself he’d observed the others, he wondered how long they’d been here for, how long till they were out. He noticed her right away; she was sitting in the furthest corner of the yard. He wondered if the expression on her face was permanent and if he had that same look now that Liam was gone - the look of an abandoned soul. Staring at her, he didn’t notice the two guys that sauntered up to him.  

“New here?”

Killian looked at them and nodded, not interested in making nice.

“I’m Felix, and this is Neal,” he continued, either not catching the social cue of someone who wanted to be left alone, or not caring.

Scowling at the two, he begrudgingly introduced himself. “Killian,” was all he said, then looked back at the lost blonde girl.

“You see that girl over there? She’s pretty, huh?” the one called Neal asked.

“Aye,” Killian answered before he could stop himself.  He had no need to make friends here, so why was he indulging this conversation?

“She is pretty,” Neal agreed, clapping his hand on Killian’s shoulder, “pretty bangable. And she’s mine, so why don’t you do me a favor and stop eye fucking her.”

Killian took a deep breath. If self preservation didn’t take over he was going to murder this idiot. “Why don’t you do me a favor...”

Neal chuckled, “And what’s that?”

“Take your fucking hand off of me, before I do it for you.”

Neal shoved Killian by way of removing his hand from his shoulder.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

Killian hadn’t noticed the girl had made her way across the lawn.

“Nothing babe, just meeting the new guy.”

“Oh, hi,” she said quietly, glancing toward Killian. She smiled, though he noticed it was a bit forced, and even though her eyes were a bright green, he could see they were troubled. “I’m Emma… Emma Swan.”

“Killian Jones,” he replied, extending his hand, and offering a warm smile.

As Emma put her hand out to shake Killian’s hand, Neal threw his arm around her shoulder and pulled her off in the other direction, “Let’s go.”

Emma stumbled a bit as he pulled her away, she turned around and smiled apologetically at Killian. He watched as they walked away, wondering how a girl like her was with such a jerk.

They’d spoken a few times since then, not about anything of consequence. He enjoyed her company though. She was familiar in a way that he didn’t quite understand, but also didn’t question. He had a short time to be here, so it didn’t really matter.

School started a few weeks later without further incident. Emma and Killian fell into an easy enough routine, they walked to school together, and she’d walk home with him on the occasion that Neal wasn’t there waiting for her after school in his shiny new car that daddy had bought him. Despite planning to keep to himself, Killian made a couple of friends, Emma being the first, but she didn’t hang out with him and the other friends he’d made at school; she chose to keep to herself.

~~~

“Swan, why don’t you have lunch with us today, me, Dave, and Mary Margaret?” Killian asked her one morning on their way to school.

“I don’t know,” she said, “I kind of like the time to myself. It’s the only time I have to just think and be on my own.”

“It wouldn’t be that way if you didn’t have the human equivalent of a plastic bag smothering you every minute.”

“Killian, you don’t understand,” she argued weakly.

“What don’t I understand? Why do you stay with him?” He felt a little more upset than he knew he was entitled to, but he hated seeing her have the light snuffed out of her by that controlling dick.

“I don’t owe you any explanations, Killian.” Emma started to get flustered at his needling.

“No, you don’t,” he said, hurt clear in his voice for only a moment before he slipped his brick facade back in place. “You owe me absolutely nothing.”

“I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, but you don’t-”

“Ah yes, I don’t understand, well then, why don’t you enlighten me?”

“He is the only person who has ever loved me, chosen me, and stuck around.”

“If that’s your idea of love, then I am the one who’s sorry.”

“Oh, and you know better?” she questioned angrily, “Who do you have?” Emma Swan didn’t need anyone’s pity.

“Too true, lass.”

He stalked away as soon as they reached campus, not looking back. Killian Jones didn’t need anyone, and he damn sure didn’t want anyone.

~~~

He hated that he waited hopefully at lunch, hoping maybe she’d have a change of heart.

“What’s wrong with you today?” Mary Margaret asked Killian.

David looked at her, eyes bugging out as they tended to do when his girlfriend blurted out such questions.  Her idealistic nature flowed into her words often, it’s just how she was raised. And although some of her positive ways had rubbed off on David, he still knew how the other half lived. He had been the other half at times.

“What?” she asked innocently.

“Cutting to the quick as usual, Blanchard,” Killian addressed her forward question, so David didn’t have to. He didn’t expect much else though. Mary Margaret and David both wore their hearts on their sleeves and were not afraid to discuss or express every stupid feeling they had. Their hearts were made for each other, and Killian had found himself envious on more than one occasion that not only could two people be so perfect for each other, but they knew it, and accepted it.

“You’re like a wet blanket today, it’s kind of obvious something is wrong.”

“That was so much better,” David deadpanned, rubbing his forehead at his girlfriend’s lack of tact. It wasn’t as though she was rude, she just wanted to fix whatever it was that affected any of her friends.  

“Aye, there is something bothering me, although I’d rather not discuss it,” Killian explained. It was a foreign concept, he was sure, to someone who discussed and problem solved everything.  

Emma wasn’t in their last period of the day. He figured Neal had picked her up early, and so he walked home alone.  

~~~

When she didn’t show up at dinner time, he began to worry. When she finally came home, he was beyond relieved, but that relief quickly morphed to anger. He wasn’t sure if he was pissed at her for making him worry, or at himself for caring. Seeing for himself that she was okay, he walked past her and out to the back.

“I’m sorry,” she spoke quietly, interrupting the silence of the night air surrounding him.

“There is nothing to apologize for.”

“Don’t do that,” she pleaded.

“Do what, Swan?”

“Don’t pretend like nothing's wrong, like you don’t care about-”

“About what? You’ve made it quite clear you don’t want me to care about anything concerning you,” he snapped.

His accent was so much thicker when he was angry, so right now he must be furious, she thought. “Like you don’t care about our friendship,” she whispered, afraid that her voice would crack if she tried to talk normally.

His head snapped up to look at her when he heard the hurt in her voice. Whisper or not, it was as clear as glass. Looking at the sadness in her eyes he was hit full force with the knowledge that this time, he was the one to put that sadness there.  

“I do care,” he relented, “I do care, Swan, and I’m sorry. Sorry for being an arse, and for hurting you. I never want to hurt you, love.”

A few tears rolled down her cheeks, and she giggled despite the roller coaster she was on. “Why are you apologizing, I came out here to say I’m sorry. I know you’re trying to help, and I got defensive, and mean, and… I’m really sorry, Killian.”

“If you can forgive me, then I can forgive you,” he offered, sticking his hand out to shake.

She didn’t shake his hand, but instead hugged him. He took a moment to embrace her back, unused to a touchy feely Emma.

“I forgive you,” she told him, letting him hold her.

“And I forgive you,” he whispered into her hair, holding her tightly. Funny thing, realizing that it wasn’t just anger that he could feel; he just wasn’t used to feeling any other emotion as strongly. But this - holding his friend, and feeling the symbiotic nature of a healthy friendship flow between them - this was the best he’d felt since before Liam’s death.

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