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janekfan · 4 years ago

Note

hi mom. sorry i havent talked with you much recently but ive definitely been following ur stuff (which youve probably noticed). ive been extremely busy with much longer work hours, sometimes needing to find a place to hide so i can plop down and pass out for a few minutes. if you wanna write something regarding that, however you want to, it would bring me a lot of comfort ♡

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26659246

For @flame-cat my child! I’m so very proud of you! I hope this fits :) I can always try again <3 <3 <3

Jon lifted his head, groggy and sore, from the surface of his messy desk, a spare post it stuck to his cheek. He blinked hard, rubbing the sleep from his stinging, burning eyes and peeled away the paper to slip it back into the folder. Ever since his promotion he’d been burning the candle at both ends in an attempt to balance all of the new responsibilities despite not having any of the relevant experience. Sasha would have been a much better choice and for the life of him, Jon couldn’t figure out Elias’ game. How did having a bumbling, idiot Archivist benefit him in any way?

He rubbed his temples, cursing the persistent ache. Barely getting through a statement a week already felt like running a marathon every time, leaving him exhausted and irritable and the worst part about it all was not being able to ask for help. He’d thought. Well. He’d though having Tim and Sasha accompany him would make the whole thing a little more bearable. They were friends. Friends took care of each other and they understood it wasn’t his decision, right? That he’d tried to argue his way out of it, tried to explain that he wasn’t the person for this job.

He was probably being sensitive. They had responsibilities. They were busy.

It’s not all about you, Jon.

But he was so lonely.

Tired.

And it only became worse as the weeks went on though he didn’t know how bad it had gotten until one of the library staff poked him awake at the end of one of the “K” shelves. He’d only sat down for a moment on the bottom rung of a rolling ladder.

“Mr. Sims?”

“Wah--?” So eloquent when the library assistant shook him by the shoulder out of concern.

“Can I help you find something?” They smiled. “Like the door? So that you might go home and get some rest?”

“No, no, I’m alright.” He plucked a book at random. “I was just looking for this.” They didn’t seem convinced and smiled indulgently.

“A book on kinephantoms?” And Jon drew himself up to his full, diminutive height.

“Wha--yes. Yes, or course.” Clearing his throat he turned on his heel and stalked back into the archives.

“Hello? Tim? Um.”

“What can I do you for, boss?” Jon was exceptionally nervous and he didn’t know why but as Tim whirled around in his chair, pen flipping over his fingers, it spiked in his gut, made him sick.

“Ah yes, the, the research I asked for, l’last week.” Deep breath, be the boss, delegate and follow up. “How is it coming along?”

“Oh, yeah! The research. It’s ‘coming along.’ Should have it ready in a few days. How’s after the weekend sound?” Horrible.

If he was being honest.

“Yes, of course.” But he wasn’t. “That would be just fine, thank you, Tim.” He tucked the folder he had brought for him behind his back and left the way he came.

“Jon?”

“Sasha?” He looked up from his reading to find her in his doorway and a cup of cold tea on the corner of his desk. When had that--? “How can I help you?”

“I just had some questions regarding what you needed for that last statement.” Disappointment flooded his tongue with salt. His instructions must have been lacking. He’d have to try better this second time.

It took the rest of the afternoon and Jon, having already worked through lunch, was feeling light headed from lack of sleep and food by the time Sasha was ready to start her research. She. She couldn’t, wouldn’t? Pretend? Not to know would she? All her questions, she was more suited to this job than he was.

No. He was being paranoid. He was just tired.

Disorienting pain lanced through his chin, echoing through his jaw and into his skull and he groaned. He’d fallen asleep propped up on his arm and paid the price for it with a bruised and throbbing face.

“Jon?”

Go’way.

“Jon?”

Lemme sleep.

“Jon?”

“Mmartin?” With difficulty, he was able to pry his eyes open, blinking away the cobwebs, the dust clinging to his lashes.

“What are you doing down here?” Martin was pulling him to his feet and Jon wanted nothing more than to curl back up and drift away.

“Was looking for--oh?” It was in his hand and he lifted it as evidence. “This?”

“You look exhausted.” Automatically Jon was denying it despite knowing the shadows beneath his eyes were like bruises, shaking his head and backing away without even enough stale air in his body to say the right words until he left Martin behind.

It was just a stupid, silly mistake. Nothing tragic or irreversible or cataclysmic, he just dropped a box of organized and neatly filed statements. Just dropped a box representing hours and hours of time and research and missed meals and lost sleep and proof of his incompetence and before he knew it he was on his knees amidst the papers and ink and photos and notes and it was all. Too. Much.

He didn’t even notice the tears at first, not until they hit his hands and he cried more of them in his frustration, wiping them angrily away and only ending up with his face buried in his folded knees because he was just. So. Tired. Jon didn’t know how long he sat there in the hallway, arms tucked around himself and holding all his pieces together, but it was long enough that someone came upon him and he hurried about tidying the pages and stuffing them back into envelopes.

“Boss?” Jon scrubbed his face, turning around with his most dictatorial expression. It wouldn’t do for him to see out how terrible he was at this. How awful.

“Ah, just dropped some files. I’ve got it.”

“Have you been--?”

“No! No.” He began to gather the mess faster, jamming statements into folders, into files, all out of order because if he stayed here any longer under his scrutiny he would end up sobbing.

“Do you need some help?”

“No.” Biting and cold. Drive him away.

“Jon.”

“No, I. I just can’t, I’ll get the hang of it. I just need to work harder.”

“Hey.”

“I’m just. I’m. I’m tired...that’s all.” It didn’t sound convincing to him, let alone to his subordinate. Not to Tim who’d known him before this whole fiasco. He stood, box in hand and staggered into the wall when the hallway tilted sideways, caught by Tim before he could go down again. Defeated, he let him take the statements. Let him leave it on the floor and lead him away.

“Oi, boss. When’s the last time you ate anything?” His hands were trembling in Tim’s and when he went to pull them away, the man held fast, drew him into an awkward hug.

“Oh...uh. I, I can’t, I suppose I can’t remember.” Caught, exposed, Jon let his face fall into Tim’s chest.

“Okay, okay, let’s get you taken care of.”

Suffering Martin’s fussing and fretting, while he didn’t understand it, wasn’t as intolerable as usual. He’d taken one look at Jon and wrapped him up in his well-worn cardigan and sat him at the rickety table with a cup of tea and orders to drink it. With his second mug he handed Jon a packet of biscuits and, not able to escape while sandwiched annoyingly (comfortingly) between Tim and Sasha, he had no choice but to nibble on them. After his third, Sasha tapped his shoulder to get his attention.

“I want to apologize, Jon. I wasn’t doing anything to make this any easier on you.”

“No, you’ve. You’ve been helpful and--” He was horrified that she would think his own shortcomings were any fault of her own.

“Not as helpful as we could have been, boss.” Jon looked between them so quickly it set his head to spinning. “We’re much better at research than we’ve led you to believe.”

“It was frustrating.”

“I’m s’sorry.”

“Not because of you.” He allowed Sasha to tug his head down to her shoulder. “We should have noticed you were running yourself ragged cleaning up after us.” Delightfully cozy and warm, Jon was dozing off and she chuckled. “Okay, okay, let’s get you tucked in. We can make it up to you after your nap.” Jon tried to resist, tried to rattle off all the work he still had left to do but all that came out of his fickle mouth were mumbling, sleepy, embarrassing noises. They set him up on the ratty break room couch and it was the most comfortable he’d been in ages. If he could just manage a coherent sentence…but the pillow was so soft beneath his aching head, the blanket Martin was settling over his shoulders just heavy enough and he tried one more time to say anything at all when Martin lifted the glasses off his face and folded them aside.

“Mhm, of course, yes, boss, whatever you say boss.” Sasha’s fingers running through his hair were his final undoing and between one gentle touch and the next, he let himself go.

#TMA #the magnus archives #jon sims #martin blackwood #tim stoker #sasha james #exhaustion #overwork #jon needs a nap #caretaking #promptfic #tmafanfic #I love my child and I'm so happy I could write for them <3

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shielddrake · 5 years ago

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Final Fantasy XII: A Retrospective Review

So, I received Final Fantasy XII: The Zodiac Age for Christmas last year.

Anyone who knows me knows that I am a huge fan of the Final Fantasy franchise. I have played almost every game with that title that has been released…at least the ones released in America, since I sadly do not speak Japanese. So it’s not unreasonable to assume I would want a remake of one of its games. I have quite a few, in fact, including V and VI on my iPhone, III and IV on my DS, and I and II on my PSP. Final Fantasy IX was the first game I put on my PS4 when I got it (yeah, I admit I put a PS1 game on my PS4 before anything else) and I thoroughly enjoyed replaying VIII when its remaster came out last September.

Final Fantasy XII, however, is a bit of an exception because, my Internet friends, I have a confession to make: Final Fantasy XII is my least favorite in the franchise.

Now I wouldn’t say that FFXII is a bad game. Far from it. It’s a very good game. For the most part, I completely understand why so many people love it. I just don’t feel the same way.

When I first played the game when it was released, I was not too thrilled with a lot of the gameplay decisions and where it ended up going story-wise. At the time, I concluded that while it was a good game, it was a poor Final Fantasy title. And this is taking into account the fact that I had played and beaten both Final Fantasy Tactics and Tactics Advance several times before playing FFXII. Both of these games are quite different from the main FF series, but are great in their own right. I basically consider the Ivalice Alliance as a separate spin-off series, sort of like the Crystal Chronicles games or the Dissidia series.

But FFXII was not that great, in my opinion. I didn’t feel invested in the characters, I was not a fan of the combat or license board system at all, and I felt the story was incomplete at best and annoyingly vague at worst. There were a lot of missed opportunities for the use of the characters. I was neutral about the graphics, which, although beautiful, I felt did not really improve on what was presented in Final Fantasy X, and I didn’t like that a lot of the regular trends known in the previous installments (the summons being the main example that comes to mind) were thrown out for something completely disconnected. I finished the game just feeling a mix of boredom and irritation, to be perfectly honest. The only thing I can recall even remotely liking was the music, despite it not being composed by Nobuo Uematsu, my favorite composer of all time even to this day.

Needless to say, playing The Zodiac Age was not on my list of priorities, and I’m not sure I ever would have played it had it not been gifted to me.

All that said, I received the game and felt that, well, maybe since I have it anyway I would give it another shot. Let’s see if FFXII is as bad as I remember. Maybe a retrospective review would be a good thing to post on the twelfth anniversary of the game’s original release, so why not?

* Looks at the dates and realizes Final Fantasy XII was originally released 14 years ago, not 12. *

Uh, never mind. Clearly I’m way too late for that party.

Anyway, as I started playing, I decided that there were two big questions that I wanted to answer with this retrospective review:

1.) Is Final Fantasy XII as bad of a game as I remember it being when it was first released?

2.) Would I change my claim about Final Fantasy XII being my least favorite game in the franchise?

Obviously the game has been out for a long time, remake or not, but I want to warn against spoilers here just in case. I don’t want to ruin anyone’s experience after all. With that, let’s get started.

Statistics

I just wanted to start this review with a few facts about my playthroughs (yes, the plural is intentional).

I played through The Zodiac Age twice, once for about 42 hours in length and the second for about 47. I used each of the jobs in the zodiac job system in each playthrough, but in different combinations and on different characters. Of course, I couldn’t account for every possible combination. That would take a very long time…

The party was at level 46 on my shorter playthrough and 51 on my longer one. I did not complete all of the hunts, although I fought more of them the second time through. I did not try to get any of the special gear like the Zodiac Spear, mostly because I don’t know how. I also did not get all of the espers, because other than the required time you have to summon Belias to get into Giruvegan, I never used summoning.

I avoided any guides or other playthroughs for the game, relying on the game’s directions and my memory from my previous plays…fourteen years ago…to guide me through the main part of the story. Yeah, I haven’t played FFXII since it was released in 2006, maybe 2007, give or take a few months. So, if I got confused or lost during the course of the game, it was because I either missed directions or the game was not clear on where I needed to go.

At the time of this review, I have not experimented at all with Trial Mode or played through New Game Plus.

Graphics

This section will be short, since I don’t have a lot to say about it.

The graphics are very good. As I stated above, in the original I did not feel the graphics were all that different than Final Fantasy X released four years prior, and my opinion of The Zodiac Age hasn’t really changed. According to the Final Fantasy Wiki, the game was given “high resolution upgrades to backgrounds, character models, 2d parts, and movie scenes.” To be honest, I didn’t notice much of a difference, although that might be because I didn’t play the game often enough to have the original graphics etched in my memory.

However, that does not mean the game looks bad. On the contrary, it is still a beautiful game, despite a few small glitches such as Balthier’s dialogue not syncing up to his lip movements or Basch’s hair not moving, Those are minor nitpicks. The game is still lovely to look at.

Sound and Music

Again, the music for this game is excellent. As I mentioned before, the music was probably the one thing I would praise about the game when it was originally released. The Zodiac Age somehow manages to make it better by providing a rerecorded soundtrack that makes a lot of the notes sound less harsh. There is the option of switching it back to the original version, but I preferred the new one. Basically they took the one thing I liked about the original game and made it better.

The voice acting I am pretty neutral about. For the most part, I don’t think anyone’s voice work was either bad or good. Other than the overuse of sighs, of which I get most annoyed by Ashe’s because she sighs all the time, I don’t mind the voice acting very much.

The only one I have a problem with, and this was also the case when I first played FFXII, is with Fran’s voice. I always feel bad criticizing a voice actor because they put a lot of training and passion into their work, but I just can’t help but be really annoyed at the choices SquareEnix made when casting Fran. She sounds so different in the English version compared to the Japanese one, and I don’t think it fits the character at all. Viera, all viera, are supposed to be these rather ethereal beings akin to the elves in The Lord of the Rings. So why, then, would the translation team have Fran be given a voice that makes her sound like a nasally four-year-old? According to the Wiki, the translators wanted to “sell the new take on the viera,” but it just falls flat.

Miscellaneous Gameplay

Okay, I only made this section so I can briefly go over some of the extra gameplay components the game has, both old and new. First, the good.

The high-speed mode is great. I always thought the characters moved so annoyingly slow! This fixes that problem and honestly saves a lot of time. I feel like it sheared off a couple of hours off the game that are just empty time needed simply to move from place to place. I used this in the FFVIII remaster as well for the same reason. I basically never turned it off. It didn’t affect cutscenes, so that wasn’t a problem. Also, the sound effect of four people running in high-speed mode is strangely hilarious to me.

There is a transparent overlay map now available. I find this to be much more useful than the minimap alone, which was constantly moving and incapable of helping me orient myself. Previously, I was frequently frustrated and getting lost in pretty much every area, dungeon and town when I played the original version. The overlay map was especially useful in places where direction was important, like the part in the Tomb of Raithwall where you need to turn the statues to face the blade. I could never tell which way to turn them and needed to bring up the main map over and over and over again. The overlay map resolves makes this and general navigation much easier.

My only complaint is that, although it is transparent, it does take up a lot of the center of the screen, but that is a small price to pay for the relief of so much frustration. There are times when the overlay map isn’t useable, namely in parts of Giruvegan and the Bahamut, and then the frustration rises again, which only emphasizes how nice the overlap map is the other times.

Autosave feature. Need I say more? Thank you, SquareEnix, for an autosave feature! Especially during some of the hunts.

And now the bad, which can be lumped into one thing: minigames. Or I guess they’re minigames. They’re small quests that are required to further the story that are not combat based. The yell at the guards to make them move game while stealing the Dusk Shard, AKA the dumbest guards ever. The have Vaan declare he’s Basch in front of people in Bhujerba to get the Resistance’s attention, which unless you had already played the game you don’t know to do in front of the guides, leading you to just listening to Vaan spout annoying nonsense while literally nobody listens. The exchanging information quest in Archadia to get chops to be allowed to ride a flying taxi, which is only slightly less annoying this time around because they reduced the number of exchanges you need to do from nine to three. I guess they realized how tedious it was. I disliked all of these when I first played the game and they were superfluous and dumb and add nothing to the experience this time around too.

Character Progression and Combat

Now we get to the parts where I feel I can really say something constructive. I was initially going to have these be separate sections, but they are so closely related to one another that it seemed silly to split them.

There is something I want to make perfectly clear, that I must admit came very much to my surprise: The combat in The Zodiac Age is nowhere near as bad as I felt it was when I played the vanilla game. Before it felt like a boring slog just to get from one quest to another, but I found that not to be the case this time around. I think the changes to the license board helps with the combat be more dynamic and require a bit more strategy since not every character ends up being the same. I’ll get to the license board in a moment.

With the job system in place, you have to think more about how you’re going to approach an enemy rather than having everyone just attack the whole time. I mean, you can still do that, but your white mage is not going to be as strong as your knight, so having the white mage do only physical attacks doesn’t work quite as well. And with the option of giving everyone different abilities, it means that every character has a different role to play in battle.

The ability to add a second job later in the game adds to the diversity you can bring, since you can make any number of combinations of jobs and really none of them are bad. You’re also not limited by which characters can have which job. Once you pick a job for a character you are stuck with it (at least on the PS4 version) but that does not lock the job away from other characters. You can have two white mages, two knights, five red battlemages, or make every character a bushi if you so desire. You can have someone balanced, someone focused on only offensive spells, someone focused on healing, someone just for physical attacks, a tank…the possibilities are huge!

The gambit system is still in place, and I still am not a huge fan. If I have to micromanage a character’s actions, I’d rather have a system that allows me to input commands individually like in previous Final Fantasy games rather than allowing an AI to do it. However, I understand that the combat in FFXII is fast-paced enough that it makes that sort of system more difficult, and I managed to deal with it fine. I wish I didn’t have to buy gambits for every single miniscule action though.

On the other hand, I did find having multiple gambits useful for the various abilities each character has, especially since the job system allows for more individualized characters. This time, I felt like having several gambit slots was actually worthwhile because I had the characters able to do more things under specific circumstances, especially for spellcasters. This made it seem like it was worth the license points to spend on gambit slots from the license board. So while I still am not fond of the gambit system, I found it overall less annoying than before.

Obviously the license board is the biggest change to The Zodiac Age. The job system is excellent this time around, compared to the complete lack of a job system in the original version. Normally a blank slate for character progression isn’t a bad thing. VI, VII and VIII all had no job system as well, but you could still customize the characters to fit with a play style that you liked. Vanilla FFXII didn’t allow that. It was far too easy to make every character identical, so it ultimately didn’t matter which character you had in your party. This time, the available variety made it much more enjoyable to play and experiment.

The board was also improved on in that it was much more logical within each job. Before, the board was literally just a board, with every license just kind of lumped together. The license for a helmet was next to a license for the fire spell. It never made much sense and it seemed hard to predict what adjacent licenses you were unlocking. This time, armor licenses are together, sword licenses are together, magic licenses are together, and so forth. Some licenses in the same category are spread apart, such as the technicks, but for the most part there is at least some sort of logic to it all, making it much easier to plan character growth instead of it feeling random.

Later on, it is possible to make the characters very similar to one another, so that everyone can cast white magic, use the same technicks, wear the same gear, etc. This is especially easy if you pick secondary jobs that are opposite the first job (for stance, adding a foebreaker job to a white mage). This doesn’t happen until late in the game though, so it doesn’t feel nearly as cheap. FFX did the same with the sphere grid, but you had to be pretty far in the game before that was possible. Same thing here.

I feel I should mention the quickenings and summons, even though I never used the latter in battle. The mist abilities now have their own gauge rather than using MP, which is a nice throwback to the limit break bars of some of the previous games. I definitely prefer it that way. I found myself using quickenings less frequently than during my first playthrough, but that might be because the game was made to be overall a little easier.

Story and Characters

While the job system was the big change for The Zodiac Age, and certainly for the better, I feel I still need to talk about the story and the characters even though nothing about these parts of the game have changed. The big reason for this is because the story was where I had the biggest problem with the original version of FFXII, and therefore will probably have the biggest impact on answering my two burning questions at the beginning of this review.

That being said, if I were to go into all the details about the story and characters and what I think of it, this review would probably be three times as long as it already is. To add to that, since the game has already been out for twelve fourteen years I’m not sure there’s a whole lot I could add to the conversation that hasn’t already been said, other than to point out how I would change the story to make it what would be, in my opinion, better.

Perhaps if people are really interested in my in-depth analysis of the story I can do that in another post, but for the purposes of this review, I’m just going to give summarized version here.

1.) Reks should have lived, or been replaced by Vaan, or have both in the party.

2.) Vaan is not as annoying as I previously thought, but he needed to have a more concrete connection to the plot.

3.) Same for Penelo. Still kind of preachy, but seemed more like a Jiminy Cricket character this time around.

4.) The Strahl needed to be stolen somehow, both to give Balthier a better reason to go with the group and to give a better excuse to not just fly somewhere.

5.) That said, knowing the whole plot of the game makes Balthier’s behavior throughout the story make more sense. Better foreshadowing, in a way.

6.) Fran’s storyline needed to have a more satisfactory conclusion. It just sort of ended.

7.) Basch and Gabranth needed to have more personal interactions throughout the story to make their final moments more satisfying.

8.) For that matter, have more personal interactions between the party and both Dr. Cid and Vayne. We meet both of them a total of two times…over the course of a 40-hour game. Too disconnected from the party’s actions to give much motivation for us to defeat them.

8.) Why did they not use Vossler’s actions as a bigger plot point, with Basch trying to stop Vossler from doing what Basch was accused of? It’s sort of there, but it ends far too quickly. Big missed opportunity.

9.) More judge fights! We fight a total of three, Ghis, Bergan and Gabranth. I wanted more judge bosses!

10.) To add to that, have more context for some of the bosses. It kind of felt like so many of the bosses were there just for the sake of being bosses, and there’s only so many times I can say to myself, “It’s probably a guardian of whatever place.”

11.) I still don’t get the love people have for Ashe. I just don’t get it.

12.) And finally, Larsa should have been the main character. End of story.

…Yeah, that’s the summarized version.

Conclusion

All things considered, I definitely had a different experience playing through The Zodiac Age compared to when I first played FFXII twelve fourteen years ago. And ultimately this is why I decided on playing this game again. I wanted to see if my opinion had changed, if I could look at it from another perspective rather than just negative memory. And although some of my feelings haven’t changed, it’s good to look back on something and see that maybe it isn’t exactly as I recall it.

Let’s go back to the big questions I proposed at the beginning of this review.

First, is Final Fantasy XII as bad of a game as I remember it being when it was first released? No, it’s certainly not. I think the changes made to the license board made the combat more enjoyable for me, and by extension it seemed less of a hassle and more of an actual game. I enjoyed running around and exploring more, and the bosses and hunts were more entertaining as well. While I’m still not fond of the gambit system, I wasn’t as irritated by it and actually found myself experimenting more with it.

Second, would I change my claim about Final Fantasy XII being my least favorite game in the franchise? Eh, probably not. Again, even with the alterations made to the game, there are still a lot of things that I personally was not a fan of, especially involving the story. I’m one of those people who love the story of a game more than anything else (which is clearly why I prefer RPGs to any other game genre). Since the story is still the weakest aspect of FFXII, in my opinion, especially compared to other Final Fantasy games, the game overall doesn’t grab me as much as some of the earlier ones. It’s still a good game, but not great. To be fair, short of completely overhauling the storyline and characters, it would the difficult change those aspects for the better in just a remaster. This makes me wonder how the FFVII remake is going to go, but the jury’s still out on that one.

With all the various opinions and thoughts about what makes a video game good, it’s hard for developers to create what might be considered a perfect game for everyone, and the Final Fantasy franchise is no exception. That doesn’t mean a game cannot be corrected to make it better than the original. That’s what is good about patches and remasters. It gives the developers another opportunity to improve on what was criticized. Final Fantasy XII: The Zodiac Age definitely succeeds in this, even if there are still parts that are not quite as good.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a Kingdom Hearts DLC to play and then proceed to tear apart.

#final fantasy xii #ffxii #the zodiac age #retrospective #review #my opinion

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ilovemesomekillianjones · 6 years ago

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Happenstance 10/10 - The Epilogue

Rated M 5.6K ao3 ffnet

ch1 ch2 ch3 ch4 ch5 ch6 ch7 ch8 ch9

A/N: **Please note, the epilogue is rated M, but you are able to skip over the M part if you wish, it is marked between these symbols: ~♥~ AND prefaced with the words: Earlier that morning.**

Thank you @hookedonapirate for catching my mistakes and helping me fill in any details. Thank you @kmomof4 for always leaving me the best live reviews! Finally, a huge thanks to @csmarchmadness for lighting the fire under my ass to finish this story! I worked on this story every January for the last three years and when I saw CS March Madness posts this year, I joined, and I was able to finish the last 6 chapters in two weeks!

Here it is... the epilogue. I hope you enjoy the end. Thank you to everyone who has come along for this ride, the likes, kudos, reblogs, and reviews have been so appreciated.

“Detective Jones and Nolan, this is dispatch, do you copy?”

Killian growled at the radio in his unit. What could they possibly want now? He and Dave had just finished with a nasty domestic abuse arrest that had gotten them in a bit of a scuffle. Long story short, Dave had hit and missed with his taser when he’d fired it at the offender who had Killian in a choke hold; he’d caught them both with the dart like electrodes.

He was sitting in the passenger seat of his car waiting for David to grab their gas station coffees. It was one in the morning, and he could swear he was still vibrating with the electric current Dave had zapped him with.

“Detective Jones and Nolan, this is dispatch, do you copy?”

“Bugger off,” he muttered as he picked up the handheld radio. “Aye, this is Jones, whatever you want, Booth, do it yourself.”

“Wish it were that easy, Jones. Your wife is in the hospital. Humbert and I will take over on patrol, you and David get over to St. Joseph Hospital. Now.”

Killian’s head spun as he processed Booth’s words. A host of feelings fleeted through him. “She can’t be, she’s at home in Storybrooke, why would she be in a hospital in Bangor?”

“What’s going on?” David asked as he entered the car and set two coffees into the cup holders.

“Nothing, mate, Booth is pranking me, or mistaken. He said Emma’s in the hospital.”

“Jones! Put Nolan on.”

David snatched the radio from Killian’s grip, which was tighter than he’d realized as a pit started to form in his stomach. Why was Booth being so persistent? Emma said she’d be at home tonight.

“Go for Nolan.”

“Nolan, your sister is at St. Joseph’s Hospital, get over there. I don’t know how serious it is, they called here looking for her spouse. And before you argue too, do you really think they have a different Emma Swan Jones? They won’t give any information to non-family members.”

“Copy,” David muttered, throwing the already running car into drive, and peeling out of the gas station parking lot.

Killian felt numb as a hundred questions and scenarios attacked him. Why was she in Bangor? What had happened? Was it a car accident? Was it a skip? Were Emma and their baby… No, he couldn’t let this mind go there as tears welled up in his eyes.

David reached his hand across the car and squeezed Killian’s shoulder. “They’re okay,” he told his friend, trying to sound confident. “They have to be.”

“I can’t lose her,” Killian mumbled as he fell into thought. She’d once told him that she was the luckiest person alive because the universe had sent him to her to heal her heart, after years without love. She was wrong though; Emma Swan was the love of his life, she’d made him whole again, healed his heart. Despite losing everyone he’d ever loved, he still knew he was the luckiest bastard alive, to have Emma Swan by his side and holding his hand through this thing called life.

It was the longest car ride of either of their lives, sirens blaring the whole way. David had no sooner pulled into the roundabout at the emergency room than Killian was jumping out of the car and sprinting into the dimly lit waiting room and up to the front desk.

“I’m Killian Jones, I was notified that my wife is here in the E.R., can you please take me to her?”

“What’s her name?”

“Emma Jones.”

“I have two Emma Jones’ listed in-”

“Middle name Swan, Emma Swan Jones.”

One moment, sir, let me find out where she is.”

After a few strokes of the keyboard, she told him Emma was in bay three and to proceed through the double doors to his left. David came rushing in asking if she was okay.

“I don’t know yet, I’m going in now.”

“I’m going to call Mary Margaret, I’ll wait out here. If you need me, send someone.” David wanted to see his sister, but he also knew that as a husband, Killian needed to go in first.

Killian nodded as he proceeded through the doors and looked for bay three. Momentarily disoriented by the fluorescently lit triage unit, Killian frantically twisted and turned looking for his wife.

“Can I help you? Sir?”

A quiet voice pulled Killian out of his panic long enough to ask for bay three. The woman in front of him signaled for him to follow her. When they arrived, she told Killian she would send a doctor over to brief him on Emma’s condition. Pulling back the curtain so he could enter, a sob caught in his throat as he gazed upon his wife’s unconscious form. Her face was bruised and puffy on the left side, and she had a cut along her right cheek bone. Bruises littered her arms and it was clear someone had put hands on her neck. His knees buckled and he staggered to one knee where he struggled to catch his breath.

“Mr. Jones? Nurse Rose, get a wheelchair please.”

“No… no, I’m all right,” Killian said. His head spun mercilessly, even as he mentally castigated his weakness. Inhaling deeply through his nose and exhaling through his mouth several times, he stood up on his own and asked the doctor to tell him what had happened.

“First, have a seat. There’s a chair here by your wife’s bed side. We can’t have both of you knocked out, now can we?”

“Aye, I suppose not.” Killian frowned at the doctor’s less than austere attitude as he sat down in the chair next to Emma’s bed and took her hand in his. She did not seem overly concerned for Emma’s current state. “Can you tell me what happened to my wife?”

“Let’s start with the good news. Your wife will be okay.”

“And the baby?”

“We are still running a few more tests to make sure everything is okay with the baby.”

Killian scrubbed a hand over his face, barely choking back a sob, and willed himself to stay positive.

“Mr. Jones, all the preliminary tests show your little bean is a-ok. Keep hope alive, it is a powerful entity.”

The tears overflowed his eyes when he registered the doctor’s choice of words. Keep hope alive. “The bad news?”

“The bad news is, we aren’t sure what happened. A 9-1-1 call was received about a woman being beaten in an alleyway. When the responding units arrived, she was already unconscious, along with a male who was also unconscious.”

“Where is he?” Killian growled. He didn’t care who it was or who saw. He’d murder the bastard.

“Not at this hospital,” she said quietly. “She did regain consciousness, but she was so overwrought, we had to sedate her to keep her and the baby safe. It will be at least another hour before the sedation wears off. Do you have any questions for me?”

“Is the sedative okay for the baby?”

“Yes, perfectly safe.”

“Thank you, doctor…”

“Dr. French,” she said with a smile.

“Thank you, Dr. French.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Jones. Now, I’m going to close the curtain over and pretend I didn’t tell you to be careful not to pull on any of her IVs when you climb into the bed.” She winked conspiratorially before closing the curtain.

Killian took off his jacket and laid it over the chair before pulling his phone out of his pocket to shoot David a quick text. He didn’t trust his voice enough to make a phone call. Even though he knew Emma would be okay, and most likely their baby too, the state she was in and not knowing what had happened to her overwhelmed him.

K: She’s going to be okay, she’s sedated right now, so we don’t know what happened yet. Why don’t you head home and come back in the morning with MM, I’m going to spend the night here.

As David sat in the waiting room reading Killian’s text, he debated whether or not to ask about the baby.

K: The preliminary tests show that the baby is okay as well.

David blew out a breath of relief and the tightness in his chest abated a little.

D: I’ll be back first thing tomorrow with MM. Call me if anything changes or if you need anything.

K: Thanks mate.

Climbing into the bed, careful to avoid the IVs Dr. French hadn’t told him about, Killian securely pulled Emma into his arms. Silent tears streaked down his face as he prayed to the Gods that whatever had happened to her, it was something she could spring back from. As he remembered the doctors choice of words though, his silent tears became hushed, but anguished sobs, muffled in his wife’s hair. “Keep Hope alive, Emma,” he murmured.

~♥~

Earlier that morning…

The morning sun shone through the sliver where the curtains didn’t quite meet. It was just enough to annoyingly glare upon Killian’s face, bringing him into a wakefulness he couldn’t complain about, given the beautiful blonde in his bed and their life together. Stretching lazily, he rolled toward her and snuggled into her backside.

“Happy Second Trimester day, darling,” Killian hummed into his wife’s ear as he wrapped his arm around her still-flat stomach.

“That’s not even a thing,” she giggled sleepily. She’d never be over how much of a sap her husband truly was, especially now that they had a wee one - his words, not hers - on the way.

They’d known each other for ten years, and they’d been together for most of it. They’d been each other’s rock, they’d formed their own safety net together. He’d been her first lover and real, true friend, and she’d been his first everything. Despite the odds once again being against them, this time as high school sweethearts, they’d made it.

Sure, they would fight like every couple. She was too reckless with her job - a job borne of her need to bring justice to those scumbags who attempted to skip out on the punishment they deserved. Adversely, he was too overprotective; she was a grown woman for crying out loud - her words, not his. He overspent from time to time, because his Swan was never going to want for anything, and she was a little more frugal, because she didn’t want to work till she was a hundred years old. (I’d gladly work for 300 years if you were by my side, he’d told her, despite the stern look she was giving him over the new car he’d bought her for her 25th birthday. It wasn’t as though she didn’t love the red, Volkswagen Beetle, it just wasn’t a necessity.)

“It is now, I’m making it a thing. How shall we celebrate? Breakfast in bed, a stroll along the beach, maternity clothes shopping spree?”

Emma huffed loudly and slapped his hand which was caressing her stomach. “I do not need new clothes. My jeans still fit perfectly... pretty much.”

Killian laughed at her pouty protest. “I meant for the future, Swan. At some point you will start to show. I for one cannot wait to see how the product of our love rounds out your belly.”

“God, you are such a sap. And you are also the only man in the history of men who wants his wife to gain weight.”

“Love, I just mean I think motherhood is going to look hot on you, just like everything else does.”

“I’m not going to look so hot when I’m thirty pounds heavier, my hands, feet, and ankles are swollen, and I can’t get out of bed or a chair without looking like a beached whale.”

He chuckled, gently thrusting his hips against her naked butt. “I don’t think there’s much you could do to make me not want you.”

Emma shivered in his warm embrace, pressing back into him. They were going to have to start wearing clothes to bed once this baby came along. “I am such a lucky girl.” She wasn’t even being sarcastic, either. Despite the lack of affection in her young life, she felt as if she was cared for more now than anyone she knew. It was like Killian Jones had been set in her path as the universe’s way of saying, “Sorry your childhood wasn’t the greatest, we fucked up, but guess what? We have the best human on earth and we are sending him your way.” She once told him this, and his only response was to say it was he who had been blessed to have found her.

Even after ten years, she still marveled at the little things, like how Killian’s accent still hung on, especially when he was angry or turned on, much to her delight. Like how he would immediately have ice ready for her after a particularly rough takedown of a skip. Or how even though he didn’t love what she did for a living, because it was dangerous, he had never asked her to quit.

And contrary to the belief that passion faded over time, she marveled at how he could never get enough of her, nor could she get enough of him. She had contemplated if it was because they’d learned together, they’d discovered each nuance of the other over the span of their relationship and the result was nothing short of perfection. Who would ever be able to get enough of that?

A thrill shot through her and all the way down to her core as Killian latched his lips onto the sensitive flesh of her neck. Sucking gently so her skin stood at attention, he glided his hand up her sternum to cup her breast. “Are you tender today?” he whispered in her ear, once again sending a shiver coursing through her body.

“No, baby, that feels good.” Her nipples were pebbling before he’d even paid them any attention and she shifted her hips back against his growing erection, eager to have him hard and filling her up.

Killian scooped his arm under her back, quickly turning Emma onto her back so he could properly worship her body. Pressing his lips to hers he sucked along her bottom lip until her tongue touched along his lips letting him know she wanted to taste him. “Morning breath,” he warned.

“It’s fine,” she murmured, fervently attacking his mouth. Emma carded both hands into his thick hair, massaging his scalp lovingly.

He just laughed into their kiss and tightened his hold around her back. He loved her like this - wanting and a little impatient.

“I mean it is fine, right? Or am I grossing you out?” she asked as they broke for air.

Killian just smiled and resumed making out with his wife like they were teenagers in love, showing her instead of telling her. Caressing one breast and then the other, he rolled each nipple gently between his fingertips, causing breathy moans to spill into their kiss, and her grip to tighten in his hair as her arousal intensified.

“Touch me.”

“Mmmm, I am touching you.”

“Killian,” she whined, “touch me here.” She removed his hand from her breasts and placed it at the juncture of her thighs. Spreading her legs for him she bit down on her bottom lip with a playful smirk. “Make me come with your fingers.”

“Anything for you, love.” His fingers ghosted over her slit, and his cock jumped as he felt her wetness already flowing from her folds. “Gods above, were you dreaming before I woke you?”

“No babe, that’s all you.”

Killian cocked an eyebrow and smirked devilishly, all while positively preening under her praise. Wetting his fingertips with her arousal he easily slipped two fingers inside her warm walls. “I can’t wait to have you wrapped around my cock, all wet and warm. Fuck, your cunt is so perfect, Emma.” Setting a punishing pace from the start, he endeavored to make her come quickly so he could bury himself in her repeatedly. “Play with your breasts, love, show me.”

Emma’s body shook with desire as he spoke into her ear between nips at her lobe. He was thrusting his thick fingers into her just the way he knew she liked, rubbing along her walls in the place he’d found and always worshipped. His thumb pulsed against her clit and she did as he bid, tweaking her nipples to the rhythm of his movements as he expertly pleasured her. “I want your cock, Killian, I’m so close, almost…” And then she was there, arching her back off the bed and crying out his name.

Gods, she was beautiful when she peaked, her body flushed and heaving, hair askew, and eyes wild with love and desire. Climbing between her legs, he settled against her body so they were connected, skin to skin at every possible point. He kissed her thoroughly even as her breathing was still ragged. Their tongues came together in a pulsating rhythm, sliding and coiling together as a fierce need consumed Killian. “I need you, Emma.”

She reached between them and wrapped her hand around him, guiding the head of his cock through her wetness. Biting down on her lip in anticipation, Emma slowly pumped her fist up and down his length, coating him with her juices. His broken groans of pleasure made their way from deep in his throat as he rested his forehead against hers with his eyes screwed shut in tortured gratification. She couldn’t think of a more gorgeous view than when he was being pleasured. Fresh arousal tickled the edges of her opening and she finally lined him up at her entrance. “Take me.”

Killian plunged deep inside her as soon as the words left her mouth, and both of them inhaled sharply at the desired sensation. As Emma adjusted to the welcomed penetration and angle, she locked her legs around his back and brought him down for a sweet kiss. Killian reigned in his ardor as he settled into this most cherished place to be, in her arms and buried inside her. Even as they continued to kiss, Killian slowly withdrew and sank back into her, leisurely making love to his wife. Her walls were still thrumming with her earlier climax, adding to the massage against his length each time he sheathed himself.

Emma eventually snaked her hand down to his ass and squeezed before pushing him into her, silently asking him for harder. She loved the feel of his cock, but the building pressure was killing her, she wanted to come again. Perhaps she was being selfish, depriving Killian of a slow-

Nope, he needed it too, she realized as he immediately complied with her silent gesture.

The moment he felt Emma’s request for harder, faster, more, he snapped his hips into hers. He loved slow and gentle, but right now he needed release. Something about the way she’d kissed him all morning, pulled at his hair, and demanded he make her come with his fingers had him needing to come deep inside her. He paused for a moment to get up on his knees and pull her thighs around him once more. Gripping her hips possessively, he quickly withdrew and then slammed back home.

“Yes, Killian,” she moaned.

He fucked into her aggressively, reading exactly what she wanted from the open book she always was. She was close, but he might be closer, and that would be bad form. Releasing her left hip, he teased her clit in circles with his thumb and was rewarded swiftly with the measured squeeze of her walls sucking his cock deeper into her depths. Killian barely registered her cries of ecstasy as his own rapture took hold of him. The sudden release of pressure in his balls as he came with a grunt sent a shock of bliss throughout his body; he felt weightless and grounded all at once. In that single moment he felt virile and vulnerable, domineering and submissive, it was a chaotic rush of emotions many times over when he came with Emma.

Turning them to their sides before they snuggled in a heap of well-used, limp muscles, Killian pulled her into his side. It was a rare morning when they were both home and could bask in the aftermath without one or both of them having to rush off to work.

“So what shall we do next for T2 day?”

Emma laughed out loud, because of course he would already have a name for this… made-up holiday of his. “How about we sleep a little more? Then you take us out to lunch?” Her belly decided to chime in on the discussion by growling rather obnoxiously.

“It sounds as if she wants to eat now, rather than sleep more.”

“She?”

“Aye.”

“How do you know we’re not having a boy.”

Killian thought for a moment before just going with the honest truth, even if it was a bit embarrassing. “Because ever since I started imagining having babies with you, I’ve always thought we would have a little girl first. And exactly one week before you told me you were pregnant, I dreamed we had a little girl. She had very curly, dark brown hair, and her mother’s compelling green eyes. We named her after something neither of us grew up with much of, and we gave her your middle name, Hope Swan Jones.”

Tears welled in Emma’s eyes as she listened to her husband. He really was the biggest sap, and the sweetest, and the best. “I love you, Killian Jones. And even if this one isn’t a girl, we are going to keep having babies until we have a girl so we can name her Hope Swan Jones.” She giggled as Killian’s smile lit up his whole face right before he pulled her close and sprinkled kisses to her cheeks, lips, and neck.

“And I love you, Emma Jones.”

~♥~

He slept restlessly over the next couple of hours. The constant hum of the hustle and bustle made any sort of real rest impossible, and each time a monitor sounded an alarm, he jumped, afraid it could be the one monitoring their baby’s heartbeat.

The next noise that brought him into wakefulness, though heartbreaking, was a welcome sound, for it meant Emma was awake. His wife’s soft cries and words broke him, and his tears started anew. “What happened, Emma?” he whispered.

“I’m sorry, Killian. It’s all my fault.”

“Shhh, love,” he soothed her, firming his arms around her and rubbing her back. “That sound is your monitor, and if you get all worked up, they’ll have to sedate you again.”

Nodding in understanding, she sniffled and tried to inhale deeply through the ragged sobs. “Is the baby...” Emma couldn’t even finish her sentence before she started bawling again.

“The doctors believe she is okay, Swan. Please, tell me what happened. What’s your fault?”

“I went after a skip, a dangerous one.”

“Bloody Hell, Emma.” Killian gritted his teeth. He’d promised himself years ago he’d never ask her to give up her job, it was part of who she was, and it had started as part of a healing process when Neal had jumped bail. But now, seeing her battered and bruised, their baby’s life endangered, he was having a hard time upholding his promise.

“You won’t have to ask me to quit. I’m going to turn in my resignation to the agency as soon as I am out of here. Killian, I am so sorry I put her life in danger, can you forgive me?” Emma ran her hand over her belly, sending up a silent prayer that their baby was all right.

Placing his hand over hers, Killian looked into her eyes, “Course I do, love. I just want you to be safe. You gave me the scare of my life. I need you, Emma.” Though the words were the same as the ones he’d whispered to her in bed the previous morning, they carried such a heavier connotation.

“I promise I will never do anything so stupid ever again.”

“What happened?”

“If I tell you, you have to promise to stay calm.”

“Just tell me.”

“Promise me first.”

“I can’t make any promises. To break them would be bad form…” A sinking feeling came over Killian along with a sense of déjà vu. They’d had this same conversation before, but so help him if it was the same bloody prick who’d fucked with Emma again. His eyes narrowed and clouded with barely concealed rage. “Tell me it wasn’t him, Swan.”

“I’m sorry,” she apologized meekly. “I got a tip that he was stateside again, in Maine to boot. I couldn’t pass up the chance to put him away for good.”

Killian scrubbed a hand over his jaw as he tried to reign in his emotions. Fear and anger were a combination that had Killian desperately seeking control from anywhere as his imagination ran rampant. “Do you realize what could have happened?” he fumed, attempting to keep his voice level. “Emma, he’s not just some skip. He’s someone you set up, someone who has a vendetta against you. Do you really think he’s above murder to avoid going to prison?”

“No, I don’t,” she whispered. “He tried.”

“What do you mean he tried?”

“He tried to kill me. I thought I was being so careful, but somehow he must have spotted me. He dragged me out of my car and into an alley before I even had a chance to spot him.” She raced through the rest of the story, including how he’d tried to stab her, but she was able to get the upper hand, turning his own weapon on him, as if saying it quickly would hurt less.

Killian held his wife tighter, wishing he could take away what had happened to her. He felt murderous, he would kill Neal with his bare hands if ever given the opportunity. Since he wasn’t leaving this hospital right now though, it’d have to wait. “You’re safe now, Swan,” he soothed. “I promise, he will never lay his hands on you again.”

“Good morning, Jones family,” Dr. French greeted them, throwing back the curtains. “Are you feeling okay, Mrs. Jones? Your monitor is showing some elevated stress levels.”

“I was just telling Killian what happened to me last night.”

“Ah, still a little frightened after your run in?” she questioned.

Emma nodded, averting her eyes, still ashamed she’d made such an error in judgement.

“Well, if it offers you any piece of mind, I called my friend over at Northern Light Hospital, where your attacker was taken, and she told me he was placed under arrest, and after being treated for blood loss, he was taken away. It turns out there were several warrants out for his arrest, some as old as ten years ago.”

Emma breathed a sigh of relief and laid her head against Killian’s chest. “It does, thank you for telling me.”

“You’re welcome. But, that’s not where the good news ends. All the tests are back and Baby Jones is healthy.”

“Thank the gods,” Killian murmured as he and Emma both shed a few happy tears. He stroked the back of Emma’s head as she apologized again, trying to convey to her that it was okay.

“Now, I trust you’ll not be finding yourself in any more dangerous situations, at least for the duration of your pregnancy?” the doctor asked.

“No ma’am, early retirement. I’m never going to put our precious baby girl in danger again,” Emma answered as she smoothed her hand over her stomach.

“Then I just have a few forms to fill out and you’ll be free to go. The nurse will bring in your discharge papers shortly.”

Killian climbed off the bed and extended his hand toward the doctor, shaking her hand. “Thank you for everything Dr. French. Any chance your colleague told you where Emma’s attacker was escorted?”

“Killian!” Emma scolded.

“What, love? I only wish to call the unit he was taken to, you know, to make sure he won’t be released on bail again, and maybe find out how long he’s looking at. And if they choose to rough him up for attacking the wife of a fellow officer, so be it.”

“Yeah right, you’re not fooling anyone, buddy.” Emma playfully rolled her eyes.

“I’m afraid she didn’t disclose those details. But my boyfriend, Detective Will Scarlet, might have received a knife wound victim at county intake earlier this morning.”

“Thanks, lass. I appreciate the tip.”

“Any man who does what he did to a pregnant woman deserves every karmic disaster in his path. Take care Mr. and Mrs. Jones.”

Emma’s mouth dropped open at the devilish twinkle in Dr. French’s eyes, while Killian just smirked.

“Thank you, doctor,” they said in unison.

After the doctor left, Killian sat back down at Emma’s side and she took his hands in hers. “I don’t want you to risk your career to… avenge me. You’re not really going to go after him, are you?” Emma understood the desire to do so, but Killian had never been a perpetrator of gratuitous violence, and she didn’t want him to become one on her account.

“Although every part of me wants to pummel him, and he’d bloody well deserve it, I made myself a promise years ago that I would never lose control of myself the way I did when I beat Gold to a pulp. I almost broke that promise once, and you were there to bring me back from the edge, I’m not going to let it happen again. I have no intention of seeking revenge, at least not in a physical fashion, although I do fully intend to mention his latest crime against a fellow officer’s wife, they can do what they like with that information.”

Emma cracked a smile; she couldn’t deny him his freedom of speech. And she couldn’t bring herself to feel guilty about it either. Killian and Dr. French were both right - Neal deserved any misfortune coming his way. “I can handle that.”

“I really do just want to make sure the arresting unit knows about his past bail jump and subsequent trip out of the country. Perhaps if he’s denied bail, he will actually get served the justice he deserves.” He kissed her cheek, the one that wasn’t bruised, before asking her a question of his own. “Do you really mean to put in your resignation?”

“Yes, I do. I took this job because of a need to make a difference, to make sure that justice was served, even to those cowards that would run away. I’ve been at it for ten years, putting my safety on the line, and now it’s time for me to move on; I’m ready to move on. We’re going to start a family, you, me, and our baby girl.”

A brilliant smile spread across Killian’s lips, making his dimples show and his eyes crinkle. Leaning forward he rested his forehead on hers and palmed her cheek. “I know what your job means to you, I know why you had to do it, and though I’d never have asked you to quit, I’m so happy you’ve decided to resign. I’ll feel so much better knowing you’re not out chasing down the scum of the earth.”

“What about you, Detective? It’s not like you’re in the safest line of work either.”

“Love, we patrol the streets of Storybrooke. You travel to some of the biggest cities on the east coast, where criminals actually go to hideout.” Although Storybrooke had grown over the past ten years, it was still nothing like Portland or Bangor. Most of their crimes were misdemeanors, with the occasional felony. Murder wasn’t exactly running rampant in their small town. “The most dangerous person in Storybrooke is Dave. Did I tell you that bloody wanker tasered me yesterday?”

“What?” Emma threw her head back, bursting into laughter. “How? Why?”

Killian put on his pout as his wife laughed at him. “Are you really just going to laugh at my pain?”

“Oh babe, I’m sorry. Tell me all about it,” she coddled.

Killian just huffed at her obviously sarcastic mollycoddling. “Speaking of Dave, let me text him and let him know he can bring Mary Margaret to the house instead of here. They want to see you’re okay.”

Before he could tell his tale, the nurse walked in to go over the care instructions for the laceration on Emma’s cheek, and what to watch for over the next forty-eight hours. Once they’d finished signing all the paperwork the nurse officially released Emma. Her body was a little tender as Killian helped her dress, so when the mandatory wheelchair arrived to wheel her out of the hospital, she didn’t complain… too much.

Six months later, Emma and Killian found themselves back in a hospital room. This one was much closer to home and for a much happier reason. The room was full of flowers, balloons, and stuffed animals - all gifts to welcome their new baby girl into the world. Just as Killian had predicted, they had a baby girl. And just like in his dream, they named her Hope Swan Jones; she had a head full of dark brown hair, like her daddy, and clear green eyes just like her mommy. In two lives where love had once been all too rare, Emma and Killian now found themselves with hearts full of love as they marveled at the newborn snuggled between them.

Thanks ladies for letting me tag you, I hope you enjoyed it!

@laschatzi @spartanguard @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @kmomof4 @resident-of-storybrooke @artistic-writer @jennjenn615 @snowbellewells @xhookswenchx @ultraluckycatnd @nikkiemms @galadriel26 @roseyflush @a-faekindagirl @killianjonesownsmyheart1 @effulgentcolors @teamhook @onceuponaprincessworld @captainswan-shipper88 @andiirivera @kday426 @tiganasummertree @deathbycaptainswan @sherlockianwhovian @mayquita @captswanis4vr @welllpthisishappening @princesseslikepirates @thisisforcs @officerrogers @therooksshiningknight @freechoicedreamer

#cs au #cs ff #cs fanfic #captain swan #lieutenant duckling

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dailysarina · 6 years ago

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The Sarina Project

Ok so I gotta put a little A/N at the start of this one beacuse I realized I have to make a litttttllllleee change to this story. Soz. Annyywaaayyyy... I’ve decided to change the POV from first person to third person, which I know is probably SUPER annoying for you but I promise this chapter would work better if it was not just from Karina’s POV. So I hope y’all are ready for some ~e p i c~ punk!Sarah thoughts ^-^

The Sarina Project

Chapter 18: I Hate My Freinds

“Are you sure your ready to do this?” Emily viciously inquired of DJ, who just happened to be sitting next to her. (A/N: Remember, Karina is NOT narrating this she is NOT HERE hehe ^-^)

“Are you kidding??? I’m literally James Bond,” DJ said, popping the p. “I’ve snuck into like 15 classrooms already this year.”

“OMG ME TOO!” Emily said back in response to DJ.

“Ya exactly we snuck into those classrooms together,” DJ unimpressedly said. They both laughed at Emily’s forgetfulness.

“Haha,” she laughed, giggling.

“Ok lets go,” DJ said, immediately jumping into a James Bond somersault and kicking the door to the classroom. Emily crept in behind him, her greenish, hazelish, slightly brown speckled balls of sight gazing over the cold, lifeless, OPPRESSIVE, torture seats... aka... DESKS. (A/N: hahahahhahaha I hate school sum1 halp plz 😭😂)

“There’s no one in here,” Emily said after about ten minutes observations.

“Wow it’s not like I can see the exact same classroom,” DJ sarcastically quipped back at her in such a tone that only DJ could recreate.

“Just get to the desk,” Emily said, deciding to suddenly use her gymnastics skills to backflip across the room and onto the teacher’s desk.

“Wow I, definitely good enough for the olympics if I can do that,” Emily said, obviously very very proud of her recent accomplishments. Ever since she was two days and fifteen hours and 32 minutes old, she had wanted to be an Olympic gymnast. Gymnastics was her LAIFE!! (A/N: Chipotle is laiiifffeee heh XD). DJ rolled his brown orbs he used for seeing almost every day back into his head at Emily’s showyoffiness and walked over to the same teachers desk Emily was standing on.

“I saw Mrs. Bersbedasukeon put the paper with our group project partners on the third drawer from the bottom on the right said,” DJ told Emily, DABBING and pointing toward the correct drawer. Emily pulled open the drawer and grabbed the single piece of paper sitting on there. A piece of paper that could change the life of ALL THE NAMES ON IT. This paper would be the most sacred thing Emily would touch in a long time.

“This piece of paper is so precious,” Emily hugged the paper to her chest while violently popping her p’s.

“Just switch the names!!!!,!!!!!!!” DJ annoyingly said, banging on the desk to gain Emily’s attention back. Emily nodded and started whiting out a few names on the paper with... WHITE OUT; which she had conveniently stashed in her coat pocket and had just pulled out for this specific reason.

(A/N: okiiii idk how to describe this next part because it always plays like a movie in my head... if that makes sense... IDK. But anyway I’m gonna write this next part like a script so it’s easier for y’all to understand. Remember dailysarina cares about her followers!!! ;))

Emily: *quickly runs white out over a few ^convenient^ names*

DJ: *rewrites the new group partners aS THEY SHOULD BE*

“Good. That’s good,” Emily said as DJ forged the teachers’ handwriting. Then the super sneaky spy duo (A/N: “Nice use of alliteration” -Mr. Scoggins, my English teacher haha jk I would DIE if he read this lol xD) left the classroom until the next day.

THE NEXT DAY............,,....

I enter through the doorway to my art class, brushing my newly dyed pink hair out of my eyes and adjusting my lilac colored flower crown. ‘I wonder if Sarah will notice my hair?’ I wonder. Wait. WHY DID I THINK THAT?? Ugh this is so annoying. Sarah is literally the scariest person I’ve ever seen and yet I am CONSTANTLY worried about what she thinks of me. What is up with that?? It probably just because I’m a weird person, and that’s what weird people do. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

“Ew your hair looks like a fairy threw up on it,” Sarah quipped at me the second I walked in the room, without even making eye contact. What the heck?!??,.! Why is she so MEAN? “You also look like that girl from LazyTown.” OH THAT’S IT.

“Yeah, well... you look like Susie from DELTARUNE!” I screamed back at her, crossing my arms in satisfaction. I can’t believe I actually stood up to her! She didn’t get mad and punch me in the face like I thought she would. She didn’t even yell another insult back at me. She just smiled a bit, and went back to drawing a skull and cross bones on her ripped jeans with eyeliner. I skip over to a giggling Emily and DJ, who were sitting at the table next to Sarah, and sit down, fluffing the skirt of my light pinkish salmon dress as I sit.

“What are you laughing about?” I say to my freinds, who seem to be cackling about something I don’t know about. Are they laughing at me?? I wouldn’t be surprised if they were, considering all my old friends at my old school started bullying me for being weird. UGH! WHy is being weird so hard in high school??

“Nooooiittththhhhhiiiiinnnnnnngggggggg............” the blonde haired girl and the brown eyed boy said in complete unison. Ok, that was creepy, I’m just going to ignore that.

“I will now read out the partners I’ve assigned for this art project y’all will be working on,” our teacher, Mrs. Bersbedasukeon yelled at us. I really hope I get a good partner that doesn’t make fun of my pink hair. And I rreeeeaaallllly hope I don’t get Sarah. ANYONE BUT SARAH.

“The first pair will be Karina and Sarah.”

...

WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

“Ummm, can I please- but I am cut off by the rudest teacher to ever exist. She just goes on giving out partners like I don’t have a problem with mine. HOW RUDE IS THAT

“Ugghhhhhhh now our project is gonna be covered in rainbows and glitter and pink flowers, gross.” Sarah said, banding her head on the table. I feel like I’m about to cRY. THIS IS GONNA BE H O R R I B L E. why does all the horrible stuff always have to happen to me? My life sucks,

“Well have fun with you Project, you guys,” Emily quips sarcastically, popping the p, but I did NOT think it was funny. She gets to work with DJ, and that’s NOT FAIR. why can’t THEY work with Sarah???” At least they sort of l i k e her.

This is probably all their fault.

I hate them sooooooo much. :( 😭

...

WHOOOAAAAAAAA CLIFFHANGERRRRRRRR!!! xD. Soz that this chapter was a little confusing but a lot of stuff that needed to happen so the story can finally pick up (I can’t believe I’ve written 18 chapters!!!) I honestly think this is the best thing I’ve ever written, but REMEMBER. I have NEVER written anything before this is my FIRST time trying fanfic and I really don’t want anyone to judge me. Don’t be r00d LOLOLOLOL.

On a different note........ my mom is FINALLY taking our family to Chicago and I’m literally going to be spending all week hunting for my two favorite people EEEEEEEEEE. I’m hoping to see them at least 7 times, maybe more? I mean I know what kind of places they like to eat at and where they hang out with people (don’t ask me how I know I’ll never tell hehehehe) so it shouldn’t be too hard to find them. By the end of the week they’re gonna LOVE ME! xD xD Anywayyyyy because of that I probably won’t be writing another chapter next week, but I will still be posting d a n k memes about our children! Dailysarina is signing off now hehe. Peace!!! ✌️

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maliasass · 8 years ago

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This might be a very stupid question, but how do you make an icons page? I'd like to make one instead of just having the icons I've posted floating around in their individual posts, but I can't seem to find an icon page tutorial that I can actually understand/get to work. And you're super nice and helped me learn how to make icons in the first place, so I figured it wouldn't hurt to ask you :)

Not at all a stupid question! I’m pretty sure Anya had to teach my how to make mine in the first place lol (although a bunch of icons are mssing on mine rn and ive been too lazy to fix it whoops). Plus I’m always happy to help! (And I’d lvoe to be able to get to all of your gorgeous icons in one place :) )

Anyway, tutorial under the cut:

Okay! So the first step is to find an icons page.

this is the one I have: http://yearsandsyears.tumblr.com/post/122602300259/icons-01-by-steyerogers-themesbysaaraa-filter but you can find a bunch of quality ones just by googling tumblr icons page or search icons page on tumblr.

After you find one, copy the code for it. Then go to your blog, click edit appearance and then edit theme, like you would to edit your theme normally. When you get to the theme editing page, scroll to the bottom and click “add a page”.

That’ll take you to a new panel and they’ll be a box in the top left corner that says “standard layout”. Click the arrow next to standard layout and then select “custom layout”.

Then it should look like this:

(you can also see that i set it so it would be at the url maliasass.tumblr.com/icons. just add /icons or whatever else you want it to be to your url)

Okay, so under the white box, (where my curser is in the screenshot) paste the icon page code.

Note for the rest of this tutorial: the code of each icons page will be slightly different and thus editing it will be slightly different, but the basics will apply

Okay, note over. So first, find the place in the code where the filters (like character/color) are. It should be near the bottom.

Here’s what mine looks like:

(before you edit the code it’ll have less filters so it’l look like that but with only one or two lines under each

)

So, decide how you want to sort your icons. Usually, people sort theirs by character or color. I do character or color or ship. See how there’s different sections? Like one

followed by some lines with character anmes and then a space and then another one followed by ships? Each section is a different sort category- the first one is characters and the second one is ships and theres a third one not in the shot that’s colors. In whatever code you have, each sort section will be split in some way, like with the

and then

here.

So, in each group, there should be a sample line to start with. Something like Red. Whatever that line is, copy it for as many categories as you want in that section (If you need 5 characters, copy it five times). Then edit each line for the characters. There should be one part of the line where you put what you’ll mark each icon as so it’ll respond to that filter. In this case it’s the “data-filter=“.red””. Choose the easiest way to mark the pictures, whether it’s just labeling it as red or using a shortened form for something longer (like I makred Marie Jeanne icons as mj). Then there will be a part of the line where you put how the label will show up on the page (>RedMalia/Lydia

Okay, if that’s not already confusing enough, time to actually input the icons.

If you scroll to the very bottom of the code, there should be a template for putting in icons.

Here’s what it looks like in mine:

Copy the template, and then paste it below your filters (but above the orginal template). You’ll need to copy and paste the template for every icon you want to put on the page. The template will have a place for you to put filter names (”icon filter names”) and a place to put the icon url (”image url”). In the filer name section, list all of the filters that apply to that icon using the filter labels you set above. (For example, based on the filters in my screenshot, if I had a blue icon of malia and lydia id write “icon blue malia lydia malydia”. You can put as many filters as you want, even if theyre from the same group. Leave the word “icon” in the filter name section. (So, “Icon blue malia” not just “blue malia”). Then, copy and paste your image url where it says image url. (You can get the url by right clikcing on the icon and choosing copy image url). Dont leave the words image or url, but do leave the quotation marks.

Here’s an example of how mine look:

(the first one is a red malydia icon and the second a red lydia icon. my particular page has an option to input search terms but i havent done that and its not really necessary).

Put the icons in the order you want them to appear on the page. (THe one you put on top will be first on the page, etc. Lots of people have them appear in color order, so like I put all my red ones first and then my oragen ones, etc).

And that’s it. Just keep repeating the same bit of code for every icon with appropirate filters and urls. (It can take an annoyingly long time tbh, so you should save every now and then so you dont mess up and loose everything.)

I’m not sure if any of this made sense, but hopefully it helped somewhat! Let me know if anything was unclear/you ahve any questions!

#i answer things #my tutorials

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illyriantremors · 8 years ago

Text

Beneath the Stars Chapter 5

Chapter: I II III IV

AO3 Linkage

Summary: Rhysand shows up unexpectedly to help Feyre's family move, bringing Cassian and Azriel with him. Sparks fly between Nesta and the rest of the family as the new house isn't what any of them were expecting, but Rhys has a way of keeping Feyre from completely breaking down throughout the day. [Almost exactly the same as the “Moving Day” fic I posted over summer, though there are some small changes. Sorry for the redundancy!]

Chapter 5

I awoke to a heavy slam! of the front door downstairs. My eyes flew open at the same time my hand groped for the clock on my nightstand, one of the few remaining items I had yet to pack.

6:39am

My eyes sank shut with a silent growl as my chest deflated. Voices several decibels too high for such an ungodly hour reached me from the living room.

Where does it look like I’m going?

Nesta, my brain registered, cataloging the new shade of anger she had somehow managed to find apart from her usual storm. My eldest sister was always angry, like the Hulk in hipster form.

Half your room is still a mess, my dad shouted back. We’re moving today, if you hadn’t noticed! Elain and Feyre’s things are already on the truck.

They’re my things. What do you give a shit what I do with them?

Nesta-

Just don’t, okay? Save it.

I will not save it! You’re free to do whatever the “shit” you want with your things, as you so beautifully put it. No doubt you get the language from that stupid writing degree you have, but whatever you do with your own room, we could have used you last night with the rest of this nightmare. A pause. You aren’t the only one with “shit” to take care of you know!

His voice rose on the last few words as Nesta’s footsteps sounded on the stairs, approaching.

I’ll give a shit about your shit when you decide being a family again is worth caring about!

My heart sped up as her footsteps reached my door and paused. I prayed silently she would leave me alone at least until I’d had a chance to properly wake up. Her own bedroom door slammed and I heard general clutter being shuffled about before the distinct sound of tape was pulled for boxes.

I breathed a sigh of relief and rolled over onto my back, willing my body to wake up.

The ceiling above me was still the crisp, clean white I’d stared at all yesterday afternoon. Empty. Just like the rest of my room.

Every single item I’d ever decided was worth keeping now sat in less than a dozen boxes in a huge Uhaul moving van parked out front. I had so much useless junk to pack, but in the end, I threw most of it away. I felt guilty at the thought of taking it all with us to the new house where we’d have less space. The entire point of moving was to downsize since dad couldn’t afford the monstrosity of a house we’d grown up in anymore without mom. It felt cruel to make him take all of that extra baggage with him to the new home, even if it wasn’t his extra baggage to deal with.

So I had stuffed most of my room into those hideous black bags that never hold their weight like they claim and dumped it into the trash cans out front along with the rest of my doubts over moving.

I had no choice. This was a thing. It was happening. I could accept it with all of the consequences that came with it and move on, or stay behind and try not to drown. I was choosing the former, but somehow I still felt like I was drowning.

Dad’s shout had been loud and angry, the same as when he would fight with mom. I wondered if he had already opened the liquor cabinet.

A light knock tapped on my door. My stomach twisted into knots immediately at the anxiety of it being Nesta, but Elain’s fairy voice put me at ease.

“Feyre?” she said, the door creaking open. I sat up to find her walking toward me, a small tea cup perched in her hand with steam hissing out the top. She smiled as she handed it to me before sitting next to me on the bed. I closed my eyes as the steam kissed my lips before taking a sip.

Chamomile and honey. My favorite.

“Morning, sleepy head,” my second eldest sister said. “I thought you could use a proper wake up after…”

“After Nesta?” I said. Elain shrugged with half an eye roll. I closed my eyes knowingly and took another sip. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” Elain smiled, courtesy oozing out of her like an annoyingly delightful old Hollywood film you know should bore the snot out of your 21st century movie filter, but that you can’t help be inspired by. She was staring at me apologetically and I couldn’t help but compare my two sisters.

Unlike Nesta, Elain still came around occasionally, pretended we were still a family even if she was critical of dad’s drinking, something I couldn’t really fault her for even though heaven knew I tried.

I missed when we were kids. They were both a lot older than me and had always been closer to each other than to me, but I could remember us getting along while I was still small.

Now, they felt like strangers more and more to me every day that I didn’t see them. At least Elain had come home when dad asked to help with the house. Sure she’d gotten her skirts dirty, but today she’d had enough foresight to put on some athletic wear. I tried not to notice the Burberry tags sticking off of it.

“Pop downstairs when you’re ready, mmkay?” she said. “We need to get going by 8am sharp if we want to beat moving in the heat!” She bounced up and glided to the door, her hair swishing in a perfect ponytail behind her. She had slipped out the door for half a second before her head darted back in and I saw all of her pearly whites gleam at me. “And I’ve got pancakes!”

And then she was gone again.

It was comforting to know that if Nesta was going to come round today with her usual fire, Elain would be here with her beautiful, happy calm. I needed to stop judging her so harshly when she was so pleasant with me.

I stood up, stretching in my yoga pants and tank. I didn’t bother leaving out a change of clothes or makeup since it would be ruined after a sweaty hour of traipsing up and down stairs. My lone oversized sweater, the one covered in paint stains from evenings spent painting, was all I kept out, figuring it was good for a fight. Maybe it would even bring me luck today. I shrugged it on savoring the smell of the dried paint and the way it knew my soul so well.

Glancing at the clock, I scooped up Elain’s tea and allowed myself the last lazy stare out of my bedroom window I’d refused last night. It was the last time I’d ever see this view. The sunlight filtering through the panes of glass looked stale. I probably should have been sad, but there was some relief in leaving. Maybe the prospect of a fresh beginning in a real neighborhood would make being a family more real.

But my naive morning zen was cut short when I looked out my second story window and saw not the oversized manor across the street, but Rhysand strutting up my driveway with two hulking figures behind him. Tea spat out of my mouth in a spray on the window as the cup toppled on the bed.

I bolted downstairs flying for the door, anxiety crippling my stomach as a million questions flew at once.

What the hell is he doing here! Oh my gosh, I didn’t invite him. I told him I didn’t need help! Why did you have to word vomit on him like that last night, Feyre, you idiot. Now he’s going to think you’re a complete basketcase and he’ll never talk to you again. Wait - why do you even care if he talks to you again??

I reached the door and pulled on the handle, but not before the ring of the doorbell shattered through the house.

Shit.

Rhys’s eyebrows rose as he took in my flushed appearance standing at the door. I was suddenly very aware of the fact that I wasn’t wearing a bra beneath my sweater - thank goodness it was oversized - or that I hadn’t yet brushed my teeth. The corners of his lips threatened to turn up in that infuriating smile he made a habit of flashing me, the one that always seemed permanently plastered over his beautiful face.

I quickly stepped outside, forcing Rhys and his friends to jump back in surprise before I shut the door behind me. Crossing my arms, I stared him down.

“What are you doing here?” I spat in a low voice. “And how did you get my address?”

I was going to murder Amren.

Rhys chuckled. “Is there a reason we’re whispering?” he asked. “Are you scared of your family finding us? Or do you have a house ghost? Please tell me it’s not haunted. I’m not sure I’m prepared for protective snuggling this early in the morning.”

I gaped open mouthed at him before darting forward. “Very funny,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Who knew the High Lord of the Student Body Council would be afraid of ghosts.”

“Oh it’s not me,” Rhys replied, hands up cooly in defense. “It’s Cassian.” His head flitted over his right shoulder in the direction of the most chiseled, hulking boy, man - man-boy? - I’d ever seen grace the body of a teenager. Assuming he was a teenager. He had to be if he was hanging out with Rhys, but hot damn, the idea of that monstrosity lurking around campus was almost scary. If it weren’t for the shoulder length hair I imagined was just long enough to tie up, he would have looked way too old for high school.

How had I never spotted him before? The man was a beast.

Rhys leaned in and held a hand up to my ear. I had to resist the urge to back away as he spoke. “Poor kid still can’t get through Casper the Friendly Ghost without crying.”

Cassian shoved Rhys roughly, but Rhys laughed it off uproariously right as the door opened behind me. I froze as I heard my dad’s voice. The boys straightened up at once.

“Feyre?” my dad asked tentatively, eyeing Rhysand warily and very clearly looking around for what should have been Tamlin’s blonde facade. “What’s going on? Who are these-”

“Rhysand, sir,” Rhys said, reaching around me to hold out his hand, no trace of fear whatsoever. My father took it with a look on his face as if he were being asked to hold a viper. “And these are my brothers, Cassian and Azriel.”

My eyes darted briefly to the boy on Rhys’ left, the one he’d named Azriel. He was muscled, but not nearly as much as Cassian, though not as lean as Rhysand either. Somewhere in the middle. But though he had build to him, he looked like a shadow that might float away at the slightest touch. His eyes felt hollow as he took me in and I wondered where the color had gone in them. He hadn’t said anything or so much as moved since I’d stepped out on the porch and he didn’t look as though he intended to change that anytime soon.

And his hands. They were scarred terribly. Even standing behind Rhys in the shadow of our porch, I noticed them. I shivered imagining what could have done something so gruesome. His eyes met mine, catching me staring and immediately our gaze bounced away, the wrong ends of two magnets meeting.

“Brothers?” I asked looking for a distraction. Rhys merely darted his eyebrows up once in reply.

“We heard you could use a hand - or six - moving that truck around today, sir,” Rhys said. At the offer of help, my dad’s entire demeanor changed.

“Oh that’d be great!” my dad said, joining me a step closer, his arm going around my shoulder. He looked so genuinely pleased for me. “You didn’t tell me you had friends coming to help. Good for you, kiddo! Your old man appreciates it.”

The momentary smile so rarely seen on my dad’s face felt like a gift from the gods who must have known I’d been struggling. I sensed a warmth coming from Rhys half a step away and was about to turn and give my thanks, all of my earlier hesitancy about his arrival gone, when a sharp voice snapped from behind my dad.

“That’s because Feyre doesn’t have friends, dad,” Nesta said with that razor of a tongue. Elain stood next to her, a look of worry flickering in her soft grey eyes. My own anxiety returned in full force.

Nesta was wearing a baggy pair of grey cargo pants with a tight fitting crop top that was an equally depressing shade of grey, but I suppose Nesta would have said it was trendy. It showed off her generous curves, particularly the full bust her bra failed to strap down properly, though it wasn’t without taste. Long ash blonde locks similar to my own flowed in waves on either side even as she tucked one length behind her ear to reveal a small patch of hair she’d buzzed short. Dark ruby red lipstick the color of dried blood stained her lips.

I had expected nothing less.

“And who the hell are you, dollface?” Cassian said, eyes widening while a huge grin of interest set off on his face. Nesta’s expression soured even more as she looked at Rhysand’s hellhound before her nose sort of pinched together and she ignored Cassian outright. Cassian chuckled a bit incredulous at the gesture, crossing his arms with sway - a lion preparing for a fight.

“You wanted me to help,” Nesta spat at my dad. “So why are we all standing around out here like a bunch of apes while Feyre pretends to have a life? My shit’s all packed up,” and she pointed behind her to the first of what I was sure would be many boxes to come that she’d brought down. “I’d like to move it into the truck now, unless you’ve decided this family’s actually worth saving and we’re staying?”

I closed my eyes and held my breathe, tension roiling in my gut. With my back turned on him, I was glad Rhys couldn’t see my face where I was sure embarrassment would read in the redness settling in on my cheeks. I had told him we were moving and my parents had split - but he didn’t know the circumstances of how or why and Nesta was riding dangerously close to that line.

“Oh-ho,” Cassian said and he sounded… delighted? “Allow me, dollface.”

He moved forward and Nesta couldn’t help but to stand back and let him by with that huge frame of his looming at her, but she still managed a snarl at him. She was at least a good foot shorter than him. “Don’t call me dollface, shithead,” she said and she sounded furious.

“Nesta Archeron!” my father said and already, my family was shouting at each other again.

“What would you prefer I call you?” Cassian retorted. “If I went with something more honest, I fear we’d enter into a battle of wits and I get the sense you don’t like losing very much.”

My jaw dropped at the same time Nesta’s did, right before her eyes narrowed. Cassian had grabbed two of Nesta’s boxes and was back out the door before she could say another word. I’d never seen her speechless before or called out on her bitchery right to her face. My dad had practically stopped breathing.

“Coffee,” I said to him firmly, grabbing him by the shoulders and willing him to go away. “For the boys? The boys who are so graciously helping us move for free today?”

He took a deep breathe while closing his eyes for a moment before nodding. “Coffee,” he agreed and trudged off to the kitchen I knew was mercifully on the other side of the house.

Nesta was watching Cassian in the distance with a venomous stare that could have murdered him if he wasn’t careful. When he had set the second box down, that stare turned on me.

“He doesn’t touch any more of my stuff. Not a single damn-”

“I know!” I hollered, trying not to join the frenzy of raised voices in this house. “I won’t let him touch any of your precious bloody books. Just go get your junk and move already, okay?”

Nesta scowled, but spun on her heel with a click and disappeared to the bowels of her room upstairs. Elain followed.

When I went back to the boys on my porch, Rhys had tucked his hands into his pockets while a small, sweet smile played out on his face. “Your family’s positively delightful, Feyre,” he said as if he meant it. As if we were anything but a delight. I still didn’t understand what he was really doing here. “But you’ll have to excuse me if I do say you’re the clear standout among them by a very long mile.”

For the first time, Azriel moved, a short sigh of exasperation escaping him. It was almost imperceptible. Rhys’ eyes danced as he stared into me daring me to laugh. If Tamlin hadn’t canceled on me today, I knew he would have run in the opposite direction the second Nesta appeared at the door ready for a fight. They never got along.

And here was Rhys flirting with me over her.

But the laugh faltered on my lips and with it went Rhysand’s smile. I shook the comparison away, surprised I’d even made it. There was no Rhysand in my life so there was nothing to really compare.

“Let’s just get started, hmm?” I said. “Before I figure out what you three are really up to and I kick you all out on your sorry asses.”

“Oh I like her already, Rhys,” Cassian said walking back to us.

Rhys’ smile returned and he laid a hand out before me to gesture us inside, far too much bravado dripping from his voice. “After you, milady.”

A knight in shining armor after all.

“So what’s the deal with your sister?”

I groaned internally, wishing Cassian hadn’t just asked me that question.

I spent the good part of an hour trying to keep everyone apart while we loaded the last remnants of my old life onto that truck. It wasn’t easy, but somehow I’d managed. Thankfully, it hadn’t taken long.

Nesta dragged behind the longest of all, but by that point I was already sitting in the front seat of Rhys’ car while Cassian and Azriel popped in the back and we shot off.

My stomach growled loudly as Rhys put the car in gear. Whether he heard it or not, he didn’t say, but he did reach into the back seat and pull out the distinctly pink cardboard box that could only house one thing: donuts.

“Thank you,” I said, reaching in for a sugar twist, my absolute favorite. He watched me lick the excess sugar from my fingers with a bit of a haze on his face that I had to remind him he was meant to be driving. He smirked before his head faced forward and concentration became his mask.

I couldn’t help but to study him. That smirk had saved me more than once already this morning. Between Nesta and Cassian nearly crossing paths at every second, my dad rubbing a frustrated hand over his neck when one of mom’s vases dropped, Elain twirling around pretending to be useful when really she was just pretty, Rhys anchored me back to earth with the promise of better on his lips every time.

And now I was sitting in a car with less than a foot separating us while Cassian shoved a devil’s food in his mouth and inquired about my sister. “Like, is she single?” he asked between bites. I snorted.

“Nesta is nearly ten years older than you,” I said leaning around the front seat to look at him. “Ten.”

Cassian shrugged. “I like an older woman.” I scowled and leaned away as he finished chewing, the chocolate glaze smacking against his lips. “Seriously, what’s her deal?”

Rhys kept his eyes on the road like I’d asked, but I could feel his attention on me. I sighed.

“Nesta is, like I said, ten years older than me, which makes her way too old for you, Cassian, so don’t get any ideas. I don’t care what you think you want in a woman. She goes to school in LA where she’s studying Comparative Literature with concentrations in Russian lit and Slavic Languages.”

A tisk from the back seat interrupted me. Azriel. When I looked at Rhys, amusement was flickering on his face before he risked a quick glance at me and cut it short.

Okay…

“She and Elain were only a year apart. I didn’t come along until much later and by that point, I was just a nuisance and a distraction for my parents from giving them the attention they were used to. My parents split over summer and that seems to have been the final nail in the coffin. She’s had a stick up her ass ever since.

“So you see,” I said, leaning back around the seat to look at Cassian again, “you don’t want to bother yourself with her. Nesta is Nesta and nothing and no one has ever - or will ever - change that, including you. I don’t care if your bulky jock brain says otherwise.”

Cassian chuckled. “I’ll try to take that as a compliment.” If he wasn’t a jock, he didn’t care to deny it. He tipped his head back against the leather headrest of the seat seemingly amused and asked, “So where’s the Tool? Isn’t he supposed to be here today?”

I mouthed the word Tool before I realized who Cassian was referring to. My eyes went wide with shock. “Cassian,” Rhys hissed, glaring at him in the rear view mirror.

“You said you guys were brothers?” I shot at Rhys, wondering where in the hell Cassian had come from with his one-thousand interrogation questions and if Azriel would ever say anything to me at all.

“Not by blood, but as good as,” Rhys explained, his voice tight at the sudden mood swings of conversation. “Where are we going exactly?” I gave him clarifying directions and when we’d situated ourselves on a long stretch of the route that would take us nearly to the house, he continued. “I’ve known these pricks since I was a kid. Cass and I met in little league-”

“You were in little league?” I choked. Rhys waved me off proudly with his hand.

“Yes I was,” he said. “And I had baseball’s finest ass while I played, worthy of the big leagues.”

“That has got to be the vainest comment I have ever heard for a - what? Nine-year-old to be so self-aware of their own rear.”

Rhys leaned his head toward me and was completely serious as he said, “You would have drooled over my nine-year-old rear, Feyre.”

I narrowed my glare, aware of the twitch at my lips threatening to break free and tried not to imagine how his now 18-year-old rear might compare. His gaze danced all over my face and I sensed the cocky prick knew what I was thinking. “Eyes,” I warned and he promptly returned to driving, but not without a very smug look on his face.

“Azriel didn’t come along until middle school. He moved in across the street from me and well…” Silence dragged for a moment before I heard Azriel shift in his seat and that was the end of that conversation. I didn’t ask questions. “We’ve been thick as thieves ever since.”

Things were quiet again in the car and I was grateful just to sink into the drive even if I could feel Rhys’ thoughts on me the entire trip, sticking to my skin like glue. But every time I looked at him, the way his hands would tighten on the steering wheel like he wanted to hide them somewhere or how he’d lick his lips with the briefest of exhales as if he’d had trouble breathing, I realized he was nervous.

Rhysand, the confident boy who led student council meetings at school with the principal and administration heads, who walked up to my father and extended his hand the way he would meet the President of the United States and had prepared for it his entire life, was nervous sitting next to me.

“So about the Tool,” Cassian said out of nowhere. I whipped around, feeling suddenly very defensive despite my boyfriend’s failure to appear this morning outside my front door, much like… well much like Rhys had.

“Tamlin is not a tool!” I shouted.

“And yet, you knew exactly to whom I was referring.” Cassian’s arrogance mocked me with every word and I felt as if I could reach back and slap him, muscles and all.

“Cassian!” Rhys barked, nearly slamming on the breaks. I thought he might pull the car over, but he didn’t. “That’s enough.” And somehow, it really was. Cassian didn’t press the issue after that, understanding his captain’s orders, but he still couldn’t get his mind off my sister.

“Do you really think she wouldn’t go out with me?” he asked. I concentrated very hard on not rolling my eyes at him.

“No!” I protested.

“I bet she would. I bet by the end of the day, I can get her phone number.”

“Twenty bucks,” said a deep, velvet voice I wasn’t expecting, so much so that I jumped in my seat and embarrassingly looked at Azriel as if he were the ghost haunting my old house.

Cassian reached his arm out immediately and shook Az’s hand. “Deal.”

I was about to butt in to say they would do no such thing, that he was asking for it and it would be his funeral, but the car slowed to a halt as Rhys put it in park and I realized we’d arrived. At my new home.

A weight sank into my gut, my attention pulled back to the view of my dad jumping out of the truck already in the driveway, my sisters staring forlornly at the much smaller dwelling than they were used to. It wasn’t even a modern track home - a real horror for the pair of ‘em. I could see the ivy curling around the brickwork of the front facade. It had character, could even be considered charming if you didn’t mind that it was an older home, which I certainly didn’t.

Cassian and Azriel got out straight away to start unloading, but I was glued to my seat, my hands braced on the leather of the armrest.

“It’s okay, you know,” Rhys said, his voice quiet. I felt his fingers brush against my hand, not trying to pry, only to reassure. I wondered foolishly what it might feel like if he took it. I couldn’t remember the last time Tamlin and I had simply held hands and I missed it.

Why wasn’t he here?

“They hate it,” I said.

“Your sisters?”

I nodded, staring hard out the window at my broken family. And then it was all flooding out of me and I couldn’t stop it if I had wanted to. “They hate the move so much, the idea that we might be poor by horrifically shallow standards that they’re going to make my dad’s life a living hell because of it. Never mind that he already co-signed on their student loans and sends them money for the deposit on their apartment leases. Never mind that mom’s the one who left and took the bulk of the family’s income with her.”

“Elain’s in school too?”

“She’s in a PhD program like Nesta. Botany. You wouldn’t think it looking at all that polished lip gloss and mascara, but my sister’s quite the brainiac. They both are.” I sighed, blowing hot air through my lips as my gaze fell into a mess at my lap. “And college degrees are expensive.”

“Hey,” Rhys said, his fingers finding my chin and tilting my face until I was forced to look at him. “You want to get out of here? Just say the word, and we’re gone.”

And I could tell he meant it. All I would have to do was nod and he’d turn the keys and take off. His eyes pierced me with the intensity of his words. I was starting to wonder if I’d ever escape the violet depths of them.

I didn’t know what to say, so I just stared at him, contemplating when the last time was anyone had asked what I wanted.

Voices shouted outside the car and my eyelids slammed shut. Rhys’ fingers dropped from my chin. “I have to go,” I said and bolted from the car before he could stop me.

“What do you mean there are only three bedrooms?” Nesta was hollering at my dad. I prayed the new neighbors weren’t around to hear it.

“Nesta, please,” my dad begged, begged at my sister, his voice suddenly low and raw, as if he were bleeding in front of her. “It’s all I could afford,” he whispered. Cassian and Azriel were already unloading the truck, pretending like they couldn’t hear but I knew they could. I wanted to rip my skin apart until the muscle underneath was exposed and then I would rip that apart too until I was bone and blood and dust. I’d never felt so mortified - and by my own family.

Our miseries were private, hidden away for no one to see. What would they say if they knew the reality?

My dad spotted me and his face crumpled, trying to look optimistic and failing miserably.

“Feyre!” he said before coming closer. “There’s only two rooms, but-”

“It’s okay,” I said, feeling my throat clench up. “Elain and I can share, it’s fine. I don’t mind.” Over my dad’s shoulder, I heard Elain yelp in surprise.

“That’s very considerate of you, Feyre, but there is another option if you want it. The attic…”

I took a deep breathe. Of course. Because Heaven forbid Nesta or Elain draw the short stick for once. Silently, I nodded my acceptance. My dad kissed my forehead with a whispered, “Thank you,” and went to help the boys on the truck. I turned around and smacked straight into Rhys’ chest. I hadn’t realized he was standing so close.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked, just like he’d asked on the phone last night.

How can I help?

His arms found my shoulders, steadying me with his grip. And suddenly, I realized the gravity of the moment. The wrongness of it without Tamlin. He should have been the one standing there keeping me grounded while my family fell apart. Not this guy I barely knew, but who seemed willing to let the rest of the world burn if it meant he could make sure I was okay.

“Just help us unload, please,” I said, hating the way the words sounded on my tongue. I strode away as quickly as I could before the tears could start falling, grabbed a box at random, and rushed inside. I was lucky enough to grab one with my name on it, so I made straight for the attic.

Rhys appeared in the doorway a heartbeat behind me, setting a box of his own down. Thank goodness there was a stairway and not some rickety old drop down ladder I’d have to climb. He put his hands in his pockets and stared thoughtfully at me, giving me space to decide where this went from here.

“At least there’s a window,” I said, pointing above where a sizeable skylight was carved into the ceiling.

“Perfect for stargazing while you fall asleep,” Rhys said and brought himself to lay down directly underneath the opening. He put one arm behind his head for it to rest against and stared into crisp, blue sky above. He didn’t mention what had just happened and I was grateful. I found myself slipping down to lay next to him.

“Cassian realizes what he’s doing, right?” I asked. “About Nesta, I mean.”

Rhys chuckled. “Don’t worry,” he replied. “Cassian’s a shameless flirt with everyone.”

“Yeah, well, Nesta doesn’t do shameless flirting. She’ll eat him alive.”

“And you?”

“Pft!” I scoffed. “Trust me, I have no desire to eat anything out of Cassian.”

The snort that rippled out of Rhys was infectious, his entire body radiated with it. “I meant about the flirting,” he clarified and I could feel his head roll towards me. I found those near-violet eyes staring endlessly at me again and before I knew what I was doing, my eyes were looking him up and down, drinking the sight of him in. I pinched a spot on his stomach through his shirt and was met with hard muscle.

“Mmm, skinny,” I evaluated. “But I think I could find something to munch on.”

There was a certain daring to my tone that I wasn’t familiar with. The corners of Rhysand’s lips pulled up in surprise and my face flushed. Had he not expected me to answer?

And then it hit me all over again, the wrongness of the moment. Not even a full minute and I’d already forgotten how I’d felt smacking into him outside wishing it was someone else. What the hell was I doing?

And why did it feel like the only right thing going on in my life?

I sat bolt upright removing my hand quickly from his stomach and blurted, “I have a boyfriend,” cringing on the awkwardness of revealing a truth he was already well aware of.

“So?” he asked simply.

“So? So? So… this can’t be a thing.”

Rhys sat up beside me. “This? Feyre, what exactly do you think I’m doing here?”

“I don’t know, I just…” My shoulders fell and I collapsed inward on myself, finding it hard to think. “You show up here to help me move as if you’d known my family all your life making it very plain you’re aware of the fact that Tamlin’s not here when he should be-”

“In my defense, that was Cassian who pointed that out.”

“Still. And Cassian’s not the only one who can be a shameless flirt. You’re pretty good at it too.” I nudged him with my shoulder and he raised his brows in conceit. “So why come?”

He hesitated for half a second before plunging in. “Because when I saw you at Lucien’s party, you looked sad. More than sad, even. And when I told you about the dance, there was a spark in your eyes that I wanted to see again. But then I called you on the wrong day at the wrong time and you said Tamlin was ditching you when you needed him most even though you tried to make it sound like that’s not what he’s doing, but we both knew it was a lie. And I just didn’t want you to be alone today.”

He shrugged, as if he hadn’t just dropped a grenade onto my lap and pulled the pin.

“Is that so terrible?”

And when I thought about it, I realized it wasn’t. It was actually… kind of nice.

“So then… you’re not trying to put the moves on me?”

“I never said I wouldn’t like to, Feyre, darling,” he teased, but it was nothing more than that. Teasing. “But no, I’m not here to put ‘the moves’ on you. I just thought you could use an ally. It didn’t seem you had one.”

“Is it that obvious?” I said, my voice terribly low.

He nudged me back taking care to ensure the contact was broken completely when the motion had finished. “There’s nothing wrong with feeling alone sometimes, Feyre. The trick is learning how to understand when you’re not and making those moments last. And I do apologize - sincerely - if I’ve, ahem, overstepped.”

When I looked up, his eyes were watching me again full of that same soft expression that had gotten me through the morning thus far. An ally. I could get used to that, I thought. Slowly, with deliberate intention, I nodded and Rhys seemed to understand. And then he jumped up with the grace of a cat and pulled me to my feet.

“So where do we start with this place?” he asked.

“Just bring the boxes up for now. I want to paint it first before I do anything else.”

“You paint?”

“As if you didn’t know.” He snickered.

“What are you going to paint it?”

I shrugged, looking around and taking in the bare wooden walls that slanted at the sides to form my new home. The word still felt foreign in my mind in conjunction with this place, never mind saying it out loud. Maybe the paint would help. I’d never touched my old room with my liquid weapons. Not once.

But it was different here. I could feel it. This was my own little hovel - it deserved to be noticed.

“I don’t know. You got any ideas, Mr. Fine Ass?”

Rhys smirked, leaning against the door frame. “The night sky,” he said instantly. “That way you don’t have to wait to fall asleep to watch the stars shine for you and wish upon them.”

It wasn’t a bad idea. Not at all.

When we stumbled back outside to collect more of my boxes, I found my eldest sister shouting - again. But after talking to Rhys, I didn’t feel quite so upset this time. And I was almost intrigued to watch Cassian stand there on the receiving end of Nesta’s wrath, wondering if he could actually pass the test.

A pile of books - Nesta’s books, her pride and joy above all else - sat in a heap on the grass. Cassian held a box that was far too flimsy to hold the weight of the books and had promptly split in two, dumping them on the ground. Nesta looked furious as she bent down to gather her children.

“You bastard!” she shouted, looking up at Cassian as her hands found a Russian language copy of War and Peace with a fresh tear down the front cover. Cassian looked smug, as if he’d been the one to tear the book and was proud of it.

“It’s not my fault you don’t take care of your things,” he said apathetically.

“Like you’d understand,” Nesta spat. “You wouldn’t understand finer things - art, literature,” and she shook the book at him, getting up from the ground, “if it jumped up and bit you on that hideous crooked nose of yours. This is culture!” Her tone shifted, grown suddenly solemn, the bite gone. “And you just dumped it in the grass like manure. Do you even realize…”

She stared down at her stack of books that she had poured the last ten years of her life into at school, genuinely hurt by what had happened, her own stupid fault for packing in a rush last minute. But it was so much emotion for such scraps at her feet - all she had left to tear her away from a life at home that disappointed her.

Who were Nesta’s friends? Did she have them or did she burn too passionately that the only ones who could take her in and understand were the ones at her feet without a voice to argue back against the fire devouring her?

And then, Cassian spoke, his voice taking on a soothing caress that was soft and caring, as if he did in fact realize what Nesta was saying. As if - he understood.

But that wasn’t what shocked me most. No, what shocked me was the fact that he was speaking to her in perfect, fluent Russian.

Nesta’s head snapped up as Cassian spoke, drawing herself level with him. Hesitantly, enough that I could tell she was tripping over her words despite the fact that I knew she spoke Russian just as well as Cassian apparently could, she replied. A brief exchange ensued and it was the calmest I had seen Nesta, maybe ever.

I looked at Rhys and saw a silent, knowing exchange pass between him and Azriel. So that was what the scoff in the car had been about. Heavens, I wanted to laugh.

Nesta snickered. Cassian repeated whatever he’d said.

Her eyes narrowed. His invited.

She muttered the lone Russian word I knew amid a handful - Yes - and stormed off into the house, a stack of books piled high in her arms.

Cassian went straight to Azriel, his hand outstretched. “You owe me twenty bucks, son.”

“No!” I gasped.

“Oh yeah,” Cassian whooped.

“You got her number?” Azriel asked.

“Better than that. I got a date.”

“No…” I breathed, my mind refusing to accept what he was saying. Rhys was laughing his ass off. “What did you say to her?”

“I didn’t have to say anything.” Cassian stretched his arms wide like a peacock ready to show off. “She’s warm for my form, what can I say? The accent probably helped too.”

“You’re disgusting,” I said, but my tone was more amused.

“Cassian’s dad was Russian ops,” Rhys explained next to me. “He’s been to Russia more times that he can count.”

Explained the muscles, I thought.

“So cough up,” Cassian said, again reaching his hand out to Azriel, who simply shook his head.

“You got a date,” Azriel said. “But the bet was that you’d get her number.”

“Oh come on!”

It was Azriel’s turn to hold out his hand. “Twenty big ones, if you please.”

Cassian dug his wallet out and handed over the cash. “Fucking Azriel,” he said under his breathe as he passed me and returned to the moving truck.

“Technically the bet was good until the end of the day,” I said, addressing Azriel directly for the first time. “Are you going to remind him?”

Azriel looked at me and then slowly, one delicate muscle at a time arched his lips into a faint smile. “Not a chance.”

“Come on, Feyre, darling,” Rhys said clapping Az on the shoulder. “Let’s go unpack ourselves a house.”

#myfic #beneath the stars #bts: a feysand fic #bts #feysand #feyre #rhysand #acomaf #acomaf fanfiction #feysand fanfiction #nessian fanfiction

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