#he might mean well…well enough….but he’s down bad for Night Swan and too smart for his own good

[onlymexsarah]

Can we please get more Prince Friedrich? Maybe meeting his family

Prince Friedrich | The sweet taste of sin

I had few informations so I let my fantasy take the control. I hope you like it, otherwise write me and I’ll do something else for you😘

MAIN MASTERLIST

Summary: Kinda the Sequel of “Prince Friedrich | Jealousy” Prince Louis Charles and Duchess Frederica of Prussia come at the end of the season to see their son and meet y/n Bridgerton, the lady who had taken the heart of the Prince, but there is more…

Pairing: Prince Friedrich x Bridgerton!reader

A/N: so I made some researches about our lovely prince Friedrich and I found out that he never become a king because he was the cousin of the actual King, and now everything makes sense to me. Also, I’ve learned that the Prince’s and Duchess’ marriage wasn’t a happy one, because they didn’t love each other :( Prince Luois Charles should be dead, he died three years after Friedrich birth, but it would be too much complicated so we are going to pretend that we sucks in history and none of us knew it, alright? ;D

warnings: my english :)

PREQUEL 1 - PREQUEL 2

Here we are, the end of another scandalous London season.

Surely, it has not been boring for everyone. We had found out the diamond of the season, and found out that sometime a pearl can take the most requested heart.

The Duke and Duchess of Hastings are organizing evrything for the last ball of the season, how many scandals it will bring to us?

There are rumors about a separation between the two; was their love just a flame that with the first rain had been turned off?

Well, what we know is that the Duchess’ sister, Miss Y/n, is still enjoying her newborn love with her Charming Prince, and I am more then happy for them.

It seems that Duchess Frederica and Prince Louis Charles of Prussia are coming to visit our lovely Queen Charlotte and their son, Prince Friedrich, is this the only reason? Lady Y/n Bridgerton had been seen quite nervous in these days, fear to meet your future father and mother in law, dear?

What I know far now is that the Prince hasn’t proposed yet, and this could bring doubts in the mind of a young Lady in love. Instead of walking between the streets of the city, the Prince had invited her to see the Palace’s garden more often, but don’t be surprise if you find yourself in front of them; it must be remember that Lady Bridgerton is still one of us, she can’t stay away from her normality too much.

I ask myself what the Royal Family will think about that...will they accept her or they will take the Prince away to return in Prussia and found themself a wife for him?

When it will happen, I’ll be the first to find out. But no need to worry our future Princess, you will charm the Duchess and the Prince as you had charmed Prince Friedrich.

“‘Normality’? Now being normal it’s bad’“ you said offended looking the paper in your hands.

“I am sure she meant nothing bad, my dear.” said your mother sweetly sit in front of you. You were drinking tea at the park all together, your family and Friedrich. He insisted to spend time with them to know all your brothers and sisters, and you couldn’t be more than happy. There were times when Hyacinth and Gregory weren’t polite and quiet as all of you, but he didn’t mind instead he started to play with them or just listen what they had to say.

“There is nothing to worry about, Y/n. In this months I learned to ignore Lady Whistledown’s words if they are not nice things toward someone.” Friedrich said resting his hand on yours that was on the table. You smiled to thank him turning to focuse on the paper resting now on the table in front of you.

“Lady Whistledown had written only good things about you two, sister. I think she likes you, together.” Colin said standing behind your mother chair looking the children in the park.

“Yes, I know...” your voice was a whisper and yu weren’t sure if he had heard you, but you couldn’t move away your eyes from Lady Whistledown’s words. Will Friedrich’s parents accept me? I am not a princess, how can they like me?

Since you knew about their arrival the doubts started to hunt you day and night. The dram of thr last night kept repeting in your mind; you had arrived at the Palace to meet Friedrich, but in the Great Hall you had seen him and Cressida getting married telling the guards to take you away. You knew she would be a better princess then you; she had the behave and the submission that you had never had. You couldn’t deny thet they would be a perfect couple together, but yet he had chosen you and the fear that he might see the mistake he had done when you’ll meet his parents scared you.

The Prince saw a shadow crossing your face while everyone started talking again. You were in your own world with the eyes focused on nowhere and an empty smile on your face.

“I would like to take Miss Y/n for a walk, if you agree Miss Bridgerton.” said Friedrich kindly. Hearing your name woke you up from your trance looking him first and then your mother.

“Of course you can, Prince Friedrich. Y/n is not the one who likes stay sit for a long time.” she said happy. He had always made sure to have her approvation for everything you did together; he valued her thoughts as much as Anthony’s.

“You are right, mother. I find the walks very healthy, indeed.” you took Friedrichìs hand that was kindly offered by him to help you to stand up. Intertwining your right arm with his, you started to walk hearing the footsteps of his guards behind you. They never left him evem when you had lunch at your house, but you didn’t mind, it was for his own safety and you didn’t want anything to happen to him.

After a while, when your family was out of hearing, he took an orange lily at his right and raised it in front of your face. “A flower for your thoughs.”

You took the beautiful flower in your hand with the first true smile of the day. “Thank you, my Prince. I am sorry if I’ve been revelead to not be a good company today; just...”

“Thoughs.” he finished your sentence understanding. It had already happened sometime that the two of you finished each other’s phrases; it was lovely for the other people and funny for you. “They might be about what Lady Whistledown wrote? When you call me ‘my Prince’ means that something if wrong.”

You brought the flower at your nose to smell its perfume. “Well, I like how it sounds, my Prince.” you smiled amused seeing him lowering his head and laughing. “But it’s not just that. Lady Whistledown had been in our life since months now, I’m used at her words...” you took a breath looking around. “Your father and mother are coming... They might expect that the one who took the Prince’s interest is at least a princess as well, but they are going to see that I am just...me.”

“I stop you here, dear.” he stopped in the middle of the little bridge of the park bringing you in front of him. “They don’t expect nothing if not what my letters said about you, and you know who they are going to see?” he took the flower from your hands breaking the stem and slowly putting the lily in your hair over your ear. His hands made you feel butterfly in your stomach; you didn’t know what your body desired, but you were sure that the little few times he had touched you weren’t enough. “They’ll see that the woman who took my heart is the most clever, beautiful and wonderful woman in the world. Because this, my dear Y/n...” he brought your hands to his mouth kissing them sweetly making you blush with a shy smile on your face. “is who you are.”

“I do not know what I did to deserve your heart, Friedrich, but you took mine long time ago, and I know there are no safest hands that could hold it.” you both stepped closer at the same time finding yourself with only few inches between your bodies. Your chest were almost touching, his breath a little above your lips and your hands still in his big ones. His big blue eyes didn’t leave yours, looking for few seconds your sweet smile.

“I promise you that I will take care of it as you are taking care of mine.” after a while still looking in each other’s eyes, you started to walk again laughing and joking and at the end of the day you felt more relaxed.

You slept all night, and when in the morning Mary, your waitress, came to wake you up you had almost forgotten Lady Whistledown’s words and you were ready to see Friedrich and apologies for the behave you had the day before. You were worry for nothing, even when Mary dressed you and styled your hair who you saw in the mirror was a Lady who looked like a swan in her dress.

When you entered in the living room all the eyes were on you; your brothers stood up quickly while your mother hid something behind the pillow of the couch. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes sister.” “Nothing wrong.” “You look nice in that dress.” they said almost at the same time nervously.

“You are odd.” you said shaking your head and walking toward your mother. “What is happening?”

“I have to tell you something, my dear. Sit down, here.” you sit on the couch beside your mother still confused by the reaction of everyone. “You see, we had found out a thing...you don’t have to-”

“The Duchess and the Prince are here in London!” yelled Hyacinth excited. Your breath froze, the air seemed to be stone because you coudln’t move and all your eyes could focus on was your mother in front of you who now was yelling at your little sister.

“Mama, tell me they are not the Duchess and the Prince of Prussia.” she looked at you sorry trying to find the right words to calm you. “Brothers! Tell me they are not.”

Benedict and Colin ran away from the room closing the door behind them and blocking Anthony with you. He turned around with a nervous smile on his face studying your body language. Impossible. You have grown up hiding your true feelings, with a smile on your face and ready to nod whenever you didn't share the same ideas of your interlocutor because you were a woman, and you had to appear polite not smart. But in a family like yours you couldn’t care less, indeed Anthony could see the bright light of the fear in your eyes.

“Yes, dear sister, the Duchess and Prince of Prussia are arrived tonight. Lady Whistledown talked about it in her morning paper.” he said walking toward the couch that was in front of the one you and your mother were sitting on.

“S-so they’re here.” you looked your mother terrified. “Friedrich said that they would have spent the first few days at the palace or around the city, so I don’t need to worry for now.”

The door opened and one of your manservant enterd in hurry. “Lord Bridgerton, Lady Bridgerton, Miss Bridgerton...” he bowed to all of you. “Prince Louis Charles and Duchess Frederica of Prussia have requested your presence tonight to dine with them at the Palace.” your eyes got wider froze on your seat unable to say something. “And...Duchess Frederica had requested your presence personally, Miss Bridgerton. She wish to know you better and...talk.”

His and your mother’s eyes were fixed on you while Anthony looked in your direction with the corner of his eyes trying to not laugh at your terrified face. “Tell them we will be there.”

The manservant bowed and walked away closing the door behind him. That day all the housemaids, waitress and waiters had the orders to help Anthony, Lady Violet and you in any ways possible to male sure that you would be ready for the dinner with the Royal family. No one questioned your absence around the house, they were all to busy to notice it.

You were in your room, sit on your bed looking the wall opposite of you with Mary beside the mirror waiting for your orders. Nothing was worse than think that all your time with Friedrich, all your laughs and your conversations could be swept away just with a worng word, awkward movement or with the wrog dress.

The fear of losing Friedrich was more painful than you expected. It wasn’t because he was a Prince, no you couldn’t care less about his title when there were just the two of you together. You liked his company, his humor and you had a thing for his voice; sometime happened that he told you thing in german making you loose your mind. You felt save around him, and it wasn’t because the guards always with him, but you knew that he would never let something happen to you; he would protect you with his own body if neccessary. And then, there was the physical part; you liked his eyes, his curly blonde hair, you liked his being taller and muscular than you, you liked when his big hands took yours or when he would put his hand on your wait during a dance. He made you feel strange feelings in your body, feelings you could not tell anyone about.

You..you loved him? What was love? Love was the one that shared your father and mother; love was the feeling that kept together your family; love was Simon who married your sister to not let her fall in a scandal; maybe love was Colin who would refuse to dance with any ladies to dance with Penelope... you were sure that love was the smile on your mother’s face at the wedding of Daphne and Simon.

Was love the flower in your hair? Was love the book on your bedside table that had a sweet note from Friedrich? Was love the fact that he forbide to you and your family to bow when you meet? Was love the shivers you felt on your back everytime you were extremely close to him? Or when he spoke in your ear?

You weren’t sure if what you felt was love, maybe the love arrived after the marriage, or maybe after the first child, but something strong must precede it, right? The same strong feeling you felt inside your chest all the time you thought about him. If it was love, if there were a thiny little chance that what you felt was the true love that mother used to talk about then you had to fight and keep it. No Prince, no Duchess and no Queen could take it away until you said so.

You stood up walking in front of the wardrobe opening it and then turned around to look at Mary whose eyes were already on you. “Mary, I want to look like a princess, tonight.”

“I promise you, Miss Bridgerton, you will be the most beautiful Princess that the world had ever seen.” she said smiling and starting to search the right dress among the ones that your mother made you buy from the modist.

“I’m fine with just the England and Prussia.” you smirked slyly.

Hours passed and finally you were ready to take the carriage with your brother and your mother. Benedict spoke to you before your departure, complimeting your beauty and reassuring you that everything would be fine.

He was right, you were beautiful. Your dress, long and bright blue Bridgerton had gems on the top and the bottom was simple but elegant. You didn’t want to wear to much jewerly, they weren’t your type, so instead you decide to wear a necklace choker with a small diamond in it. Your long arms were free and around your shoulder was a shawl of a colour little more lighter than your dress.

When the door of the throne room opened in fron of you the nervouness made you almost faint. Sit on the thrones were Queen Charlotte and a beautiful woman you suspected to be the Duchess; Friedrich was standing beside the Queen and his father beside his mother.

“Your Majesties: Lady Viole Bridgerton, her son Lord Anthony Bridgerton and her daughter, Miss Y/n Bridgerton.” the guard announced you. You three walked toward the throne smiling even thought you didn’t know who to look at, so you watched the Queen and the Duchess until the end and then, before bowing, you looked at your Prince who was already looking at you and both of you smiled at each other.

Staying bowed in front of the Queen felt like the day you’ve got present to her along with Daphne, but this time Prince Friedrich was there and coming to your side he offered you a hand. You took it and stood up smiling at him. Even thought you charmed him with everything you did, he didn’t want to see you bow in front of him; it seemed like everytime you did it a wall grew up between you two.

“Your Majesties, it’s a honor to all of us to meet you.” said your brother raising up beside you with your mother.

The Duchess stood up and with her husband walked toward you. You couldn’t read their expression at all. The Duchess was a beautiful woman with long blonde curly hair and the Prince was as tall as his son with white hair and a kind face.

You smiled trying to relase your nerves, they both seemed kind and Friedrich spoke about them a lot so yoi kinda knew that they weren’t difficult people, but still their looks made you feel a bit uncomfortable.

“Friedrich didn’t give justice at your beauty, sweetheart.” the Duchess said smiling allowing you to leave a breath of relief.

“You are too kind, Your Grace.” you smiled shyly. You didn't know what to say or what to do, should you say a compliment as well?  

"It's a pleasure meet you, Miss Bridgerton. My son talked a lot about you, all good thing of course.” said his father smiling and kissing your hand.

“I’m flattered, Your Grace. I hope Prince Friedrich didn’t lie too much.” they laughed and invited you and your family into the dining room. You and Friedrich walked together behind your brother and his father and in front of your mothers while the Queen led you through the halls.

“Prince Friedrich?” he asked looking at you with a eyebrow raised offering his arm to walk closer.

“They are the Duchess and Prince of Prussia, I cannot call their son by his first name. It’s inappropriate!” you said amused intertwining your arms together, enjoying that little touch.

“Are you nervous?” he asked kindly giving a quick look behind; your mothers were speaking together whispering and looking at the two of you.

“Why should I? There is my brother, and there is you at my side. I have everything I need right now.” you miled seeing his face light up.

“Then I promise you I will never leave your side until you order me so.” he took your chair like a gentleman helping you to sit and then he sat beside you.

“I think you will have to keep your promise for a long time, Friedrich.” you gave him a sweet smile before looking the others at the table.

The Duchess was sit in front of you beside your mother, you were between Friedrich and your brother while the Queen and the Prince were at the two heads of the table. You offered a smile to everyone noticing that the Duchess’ smile never left her face while you spoke.

They made you questions, what you liked to do, where you met Friedrich and the Prince asked you to tell them about your travel with Colin leaving you surprise by such kindness and curiosity. Friedrich took every chance to speak with you and your mother, wanting to make both feel comfortable, but the Duchess commited herself in a lot of conversation with you.

Once the dinner was ended you hoped that you and Friedrich could have time to walk away like usual, but the Duchess surprised you again.

“Miss Bridgerton, can I have the honor to walk with you a little?” she asked making your eyes grew wider. Friedrich tried to say something but his mother sushed him. “Don’t worry Friedrich, I only want to know her without you men around. Come sweetheart, you can show me the garden.”

You gave a smile to Friedrich trying to reassure more yourself than him. You walked with the Duchess out of the dining room with two guards behind you. “Your Grace...just know that the honor is mine...” you said shyly trying to break that silent.

“Please we are alone, call me Frederica now. My husband is the one who follows the rules.” she took your arm kindly, but you could feel that it was different from when was Friedrich the one who took it.

“I am not sure if I can do it, Duchess.” your sincerity made her laugh.

“Friedrich told me that. You are really a sweetheart, aren’t you?”

“I hope so, You Gra-F...Frederica.” you got out into the garden. The moon was full illuminating all the flowers and the fountains.

“You learn fast! Come, sit down with me. Here, good.” you sat confused starting to wonder the real reason of that walk. “Now, I wished to speak with you alone for a long time.” you nodded to let her keep going. “My son is a charming man, and many women fell for him even before knowing his title. Hi’s handsome, I’m aware of that, but still his heart is kind and big and it’s my duty as a mother to make sure that it will not break for the wrong person. So, I can trust you and leaving his heart in your hands?”

“Of course you can, Your Grace. I have no desire to make Friedrich unhappy or even break his heart. I would never, never do such thing. ” your heart was beating faster and faster afraid that one wrong word and the Duchess would walk away forbidding you to see her son again.

“Good! You can come back to my son then, I’m sure he is worried for you. I’ll stay here to enjoy this beautiful night.” she said relaxed looking the sky. You watched her astonished...did she really believed you? Didn’t she need a speech or a proof?

She seemed so in peace with herself, like that was the happiest moment in her life. You could run away, you could return to your Prince and spend time with him. It was what your body wanted, indeed your legs made you stooding up and walking away. Few steps and your consciouness made you stop, you couldn’t leave her there with just those words.

“Your Grace...” she looked at you like she was already expecting it. “My father died when I was little...I don’t have many memories with him, he was a busy man, but I knew he loved all of us.” she smiled sweetly taking your hand to make you sit again. “I grew up with the stories of my mother about how much they loved each other. It was my favorite tale when I was little and my biggest dream now...you see, I don’t know what is love, I don’t know how to recognise it, but I promised to myself that I would have married for love, the same love that my father felt for my mother and vice versa, the same love that keep my mother waking up every morning alone in the same bed she once shared with the love of her life.” the Queen had tears in her eyes with a hand in front of her mouth. “In your son I found a friend, I found someone with who I can share interests and hobbies. He makes me feel above the moon, and I hope I do the same at him...I don’t know if this is love, but I assure you that nothing will change my feelings for him and could God never forgive me if I will break his heart.”

She hugged you, strongly and warm as your mother was used to do. It didn’t feel strange that the Duchess of Prussia was hugging you, it felt like a second mother. “My marriage was not for love, but I made sure that Friedrich knew the meaning of it. My biggest desire is that a day he would have what I didn’t, and I think I can trust you, dear Y/n.” she smiled wiping away the few tears she had on her cheeks. “Go, we have made my son waiting enough.” you returned inside laughing with the Duchess leaving all of the people inside the living room speechless. “Oh, hi honey. I’m sorry if we did late, you two will make up for the lost time in these days. Now it’s late, should we going to sleep?”

“I agree, Your Grace. Come Y/n, it’s quite a long journey.” said your mother standing up from the couch looking for Anthony who was speaking with the Prince.

“At this time the street are dangerous, Lady Bridgerton. Are you sure you don’t need some guard with you?” asked Queen Charlotte concerned.

“Thank you, Your Highness, but I have to refuse your offer.” Anthony said bowing and taking his hat.

“Such nosense! The Palace has hundreds rooms at least, you could stay here for the night.” Prince Louis suggested looking Anthony for his approval.

“It’s too much, Price Louis. We don’t want to disturb Your Highness even more.” he said polite looking the Queen.

You and Friedrich shared a confused look, what if you would spend the night there? You could see him in the morning and maybe he would walk you at home to stay together longer.

“In some way or another Lady Bridgerton we are destined to be family...” the Queen said looking at you and Friedrich quickly making you both blush. “So I don’t see any problem to let you sleep here for a night. Prince Friedrich wuold never forgive me if something happens to you.”

With astonishment in the face of all of you Bridgerton, the waitress showed you the rooms where you would stay. All the three of you got separeted at some point and you had no idea where were the rooms of your brother and your mother; you didn’t even know where you were.

Your room was huge, full of paintings and books. There was a canopy bed in front of you, the blankets were white, pure as a flower that must be took yet; just like you.

You let your hair free from all the haripins, the long waves caressed your back while you let the dress fell down. You took the corset away, breathing again like you had been drowing; you would sleep in your petticoat that was of the colour of your dress.

Once the curtains were closed, you were ready to go to sleep when you heard someone knocking at your door. Sure that it was your brother or your mother you went to open it before gasping in surprise. Friedrich was in front of you, not in his usual uniform, but with a simple beige shirt and black pants.

“Y-your Gr...I mean Friedrich. I didn’t expect you to come here.” you were afraid; afraid of how easyly seemed in that moment to fall and commit a sin without being seen, and you couldn’t let it happen.

“I know, I am sorry to disturb you. I wanted to make sure if you were ok...I don’t know what you and my mother talked about...” he said smiling. You let out a breath; of course he wasn’t there to tempt you, his intentions were true and it wasn’t his fault if you felt such strange feelings inside you. He wasn’t aware of the battle your body was having with your mind.

“You are so kind, Friedrich. I am more than fine, your mother is really the sweetest person I’ve ever met.” you offered him a smile. “I thank you for your though, but it would be not appropriate if some one see us here alone...”

“I-I know and it was not my intention to insult you in any way coming here. It felt strange being in the same place but not being together...I missed you, Y/n.” you felt your heart melt at his words making you close the door behind you so that you were in the desert hall together.

You took his hand bringing it to your cheek. You close your eyes for few moments enjoying his warm against your skin. “I missed you too, Friedrich, but I had to assure your mother with some business.”

You smiled to each other while he came closer to you with a step. You had never imagined that being at the same distance as when you dance would be different if you two were alone. There was no reason to stop, there was no reason to compose yourself if no one would be able to see you, and you were scared that there was nothing to hold your body to take what it craved so much.

He kissed your hair letting your forehead restin on each other. You noticed that his breath had got heavier just as yours and you had to close your eyes to focus on the situation and not on his lips so close to yours.

He cleared his throat caressing your cheek with his thumb. “A proper gentleman would leave, wishing you a good night and telling you he would wait the morning to come so he could see you again.”

“And a true Lady would thank you for your words and praying to the morning to come faster so that the hours spent alone wouldn’t be too much.” you whispered taking big breath. You felt something tickling inside your stomach, your legs shaking and shivers were emanated from his other hand that now was gently rested on your hip.

“Can...can you hear someone approacing? Listen carefully.” both of you staied silent trying to control your breaths so that you could hear better.

No noise arrived at your ears, only the whisper of the night that brought sinful suggest. You shaked your head slowly, not wanting to break the silent that was hugging you, hiding your bodies from the people out there.

He opened his mouths few times, trying to say something but the words died in his throat. He was distracted by so many things...your skin under his hand, the blush on your cheeks... he was drunk of your parfume and your breath on his lips was like a magnet to him; a magnet too strong for his own soul.

He brought his lips on yours, slowly and kindly, leading you on the street of the pleasure. Your body was completely under his control; your hands went to caress his hair while his hand that was on your cheek lowered slowly on your neck. His thumb kept moving on your skin while the hand went on the back of your neck, knowing that you would not be the first to break the kiss, but keeping your body hypnotized by his touch.

He kept his movement slow even when the kiss got deeper. You were sure he knew what he was doing, because when you felt your legs shaking even more he made your back rest on the door closed behind you.

Your body knew what to do, your lips moved with his like it was something you had done every day, and oh god you wished you could. Now that you had tasted him, now that you were feeling his lips on yours and his hands touching your body like he never did, you wanted more. You were sure that you couldn’t have enough of him from that day on, because once you know the sweet taste of a sin, you can’t stop.

[headinthestaticsky]

Sanctuary With the Enthralling Moon, Jasper Hale x Fleur Swan.  Story 2, Chapter 1

AUTHORS NOTE: None of the character in Twilight belong to me. ALL rights go to Stephenie Meyer.

Summary: Another year has gone by, and that year was quite an eventful one. Bella moving back to Forks shook up Fleur’s life and yet, Fleur has never been happier. Her relationship with her sister might not be the best but... she is surrounded by love. Her friends, her father, and Jasper have all filled her life with happiness. But what happens when a incident occurs on her 18th birthday. Will the Cullens leave? Will Jasper stay in touch with Fleur? Or will she be cut off by them entirely?

LINK TO MASTERLIST

https://headinthestaticsky.tumblr.com/post/658474113276477441/sanctuary-with-the-enthralling-moon-jasper-hale-x

“Wake up in an ice-cold sweat And my skin starts to creep You're hovering above my bed Looking down on me Haunted house sound effects Dracula Teeth.”

Dracula Teeth by, The Last Shadow Puppets

I was getting softly shaken away by someone, I groaned and had turned the other way.

“I graduated... I don’t have to go to school anymore.” I mumbled.

“Wake up Petal, happy birthday.”

My eyes lazily opened, my dad was staring down at me, his eyes crinkled with happiness.

“Oh yeah... it is September 13th, it’s Bella and I’s birthday.”

“You forgot your own birthday?”

“I never know what the date is anymore dad don’t worry...”

“I got presents...” Dad said in a sing-songy voice... I could tell her was trying to persuade me.”

“Okay, okay I’m getting up.”

Dad had handed me two boxes, wrapped terribly but it was the thought that counts. The gifts were a new paint set and canvases and a new writing journal.

“Wow, these are great dad, thanks.”

“You’re welcome Petal.”

“You give Bella her presents yet?”

“Yeah, she freaked out on me for a bit... I joked and told her she had a gray hair. Speaking of gray hair... it looks like you have a speak there.” Dad joked.

“Ehh, gray suites me well.”

“So, what’d you plan on doing today? Were you going to hang out with Jasper?” He asked, he sat down on the edge of my bed

“Not until later on tonight, I thought we could something together...That steak at the diner sounds pretty good... or we could just take a long drive... both sound enjoyable to me”

“Sounds like a plan Petal. I luckily got the day off” He then got up and walked toward the door, leaving me by myself.

Graduating early had it’s perks... I had a lot more free time on my hands and I could do whatever I wanted with it. I got dressed eager to spend some one on one time with dad. Bella was already gone by the time I got up so Dad and I quickly made it to my car. We had been driving through the town for 30 minutes when he started a conversation.

“So, how are things with you and Bella?”

“Uh... it’s okay I guess. We don’t really fight but we don’t really talk at all if I’m honest.”

“Everything that happened last year in Phoenix got to you huh?”

“Yeah, it did. I guess it’s going to take some time for me to let it go.”

“I understand... I love that girl to death but I don’t even know if I’ve fully let it go.”

“I would understand if you hadn’t... she said some messed up stuff dad.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up bad stuff on your birthday.”

“Don’t worry about it you didn’t upset me, I get it, you were just curious.”

The rest of the drive was nice, quiet at some points but nice, we had gotten back into town at 4:30. Just in time to eat at the diner, then after that I would be off to the Cullens for the night.

“Ugh, that was good... but I think if I eat anymore I might explode!” I dramatized.

“Me too Petal, me too. We better go on back to the house, You said you had to be at the Cullens by 5:20.”

“Yeah... blame that on Alice, she’s very excited to throw Bella and I birthday party.”

I had driven back to the house quickly. My timing was immaculate, as soon as I had parked in the driveway, Jasper had pulled in as well.

“Chief Swan, nice to see you again.”

“Good to see you too, Jasper.”

“I hope you don’t mind me stealing Fleur for the rest of the night...”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s fine.”

“Bye dad, love you! I had fun.”

“Love you too.”

Jasper and I drove off as soon as dad was in the house. I was buzzing with excitement Jasper of course, fueled that excitement for me.

“Happy Birthday Darling.”

“Thank you love.” I pecked his cheek.

“I gotta ask... how crazy did Alice go with this whole birthday thing?”

“She reeled it in... like 10% of the crazy back.”

“Well, you tried to calm her down... as long as cake is involved we won’t have a problem.”

“Yes, their is cake... glad it could persuade you into coming down for the night.”

“I’m glad we both reached an agreement... you have cake, I show up.”

Jasper chuckled and held my hand. I felt happy, turning 18 marked another year of my life. When we arrived at the Cullens house, Alice had jumped out of the house and ran to greet me at the car.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” 

“Thank you, I really appreciate what you did for me.”

“No need to thank me, come, come.” I was then dragged inside by Alice. I could feel the excitement radiating through her body.

“Hey short-stack, happy birthday!”

“Happy birthday, Fleur.” 

“Thanks Emmett, Thanks Dean.”

“Fleur, happy birthday.” Esme said her warm smile bring me even me joy.

“Thank you.”

“Happy Birthday Fleur! Rosalie said, she then pulled me in for a hug.

“Thank you, Rose.” I looked around after we broke apart.

“Where’s Bella at?”

“She’s late... as usual.” Alice said.

“Speak of the devil.” Rosalie said.

I turned around, I saw Edward and Bella standing in the living room. Neither of them looked very happy. I hadn’t seen Edward since everything that had happened with James. I couldn’t trust him much either, I felt uncomfortable to be around him now.

“Okay, Fleur, you open our gifts first.”

Esme and Carlisle had gotten a new phone, Emmett had gotten me seat covers and a new wheel cover for my car, Rosalie had gotten my a ring with my birthstone in it, and Alice had gotten me a new pair of black ankle boots.

“You’ve had your others ones long enough.” Alice stated.

“As nice as these are... you know I’m going to keep my other boots.”

“Of course, you’ve always been stubborn. Okay Bella, your next! ” Alice exclaimed.

Rosalie begrudgingly walked up to Bella and handed her a box.

“It’s a necklace... Alice picked it out.”

“Thanks.”

“Here’s Emmett’s.” Alice said

Bella shook the box, it was empty.

“Already installed it in your truck. Finally a good sound system for that piece of.”

“Hey, don’t hate on the truck.”

“Sorry...”

“Okay open up Esme and Carlisle next!”

The gift was in an envelope, before Bella could open it however... she got a paper cut. 

“Ouch, paper cut.” She said and stuck her index finger up showing everyone.

“Wow Bella, how smart... show off a open wound in front of vampires... some of those vampires haven’t had blood...” I couldn’t even finish my own thought, growling was coming out from behind me. I turned around, Deans eyes were pitch black, and he had dark circles around them. He lunged toward Bella, Jasper had pulled me back and held me against his chest. Turning me around so I couldn’t see what was happening. I heard a huge crash followed by the sound of glass. I then heard another loud bang, followed by the sound of what seemed to be someone stepping on the Piano keys. Jasper led me out of the room after that. Taking me back outside.

“I-I didn’t think that was going to happen. I’m so sorry.” Jasper said, guilt laced in his words.

“It’s okay, I’m fine... It’s wasn’t your fault.” I said, pulling him close to me.

He rested his forehead against mine and sighed.

“Nothing good can come out of this you know... Edwards going to try and do something heroic.” Jasper said.

“Yeah, I know, love.”

“I don’t care what it is, as long as I can stay with you.”

“Always such a smooth talker Hale.”

“I do try my best.”

“It’s an amazing effort.”

“I better take you home, I don’t think Dean can be around any humans right now.”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Timeskip: Back to Fleur’s house.

“I’ll see you tomorrow love.”

“Okay, love you Jazz.”

“Love you too.”

I pecked him on the lips before leaving his car. I ran inside, eager to get warm. It was always cold in September in Forks. I went to bed, I had a unsettled feeling in my stomach. I knew something was going to happen, and I didn’t know if I could stop it. The next day was strange, Jasper hadn’t called or texted me all day. I was starting to get worried. Dad was at work and Bella was at school so I didn’t have anything else to do. So, I decided to pace, I walked back and forth, back and forth through my room all day it seemed. It wasn’t until later that I had finally seen Jasper. The look on his face proved my gut feeling to be correct.

“Jasper? Whats wrong.?”

“We.. we’re leaving Forks.”

I stood there, my eyes widened, this was the last thing I wanted to happened.

[hatterstan-shameblog]

For the headcanon thing

I think Hatter likes to watch bad movies. Like the really bad ones. The ones that make you roll your eyes/laugh/cry at every single thing about it, doesn't matter if it's plot or acting. But you know what he loves more than watching those awful movies alone?

Watching them with someone else.

"hey, Mori, wanna watch a movie?"

"...no."

"c'mon, you'll like this one."

"no, I won't."

"...no, you won't. But I will enjoy your presence. C'mon bro, do it for the sake of bonding time."

"*sigh* fine..."

(inspired by real life events)

💕 Sleepover 💕

Rating: PG13 for language and alcohol consumption

Relationship: Takeru (Hatter)/Aguni

Tags: banter, friendly insults, Just Guys Being Dudes, drinking, swearing, love confessions (sort of), They Talk A Big Game But The Love Is There

Bangbangbangbangbang!

“Mori!”

Bangbangbangbangbang!

“Moooooori, let me iiiiiiiiiin!”

Clunk!

Click!

Creeeeeeaaaaaak!

Aguni opens his apartment door, wincing at the slap of summer heat that greets him as he does.

“C’mon man,” an overheated and impatient Takeru implores, “it’s miserable out here!”

“You bring me samosas,” Aguni asks, crossing his arms across his chest, “Because I’m not letting you in without my samosas.”

Takeru’s face twists into a look of shocked indignation.

“Would you really leave me—your best friend on this beautiful green Earth—to swelter and die on your doorstep in this blazing summer heat…all because I forgot the samosas?”

Aguni considers.

“No. I’d ask you to swelter and die in the parking lot. Neighbors’ll kick up a fuss if you block the stairwell.”

“Well it’s a good thing I got two orders this time,” Takeru shakes the bag enticingly, “so we don’t even have to share.”

“Someone’s splashing out,” Aguni murmurs, taking the bag from Takeru’s outstretched hand and standing aside so the man can enter his home, “Don’t suppose there’s a reason for all this…”

“Maybe I just wanted to be nice,” Takeru says flippantly, toeing off his shoes, “a little ‘thank you’ for welcoming me into your home.”

Aguni carries the bag of food over to his coffee table and sets it down, being careful not to disturb the place settings he had so thoughtfully arranged. Two plates, two spoons, two glasses of water—all neatly placed in the center of his new, sage-green placemats.

Hopefully nobody spills curry on them.

“You brought one of your weird movies again, didn’t you?”

Takeru rolls his eyes. Shoving his arm into his messenger bag, he rummages around its contents for a moment before yanking a dark, thin rectangle and holding it up for Aguni to examine.

“The 1977 horror classic, House,” he explains with an edge of exasperation, “is a critically-acclaimed work of art that has been inspiring both film fanatics and the average man for nearly half a century.”

“Straight from the back of the box,” Aguni mumbles, opening the stapled-shut paper bag and peeking at the containers inside, “Anyways, I thought you didn’t like scary movies.”

Takeru scoffs.

“Not sure what gave you that idea,” Takeru says, shoving his feet into his slippers—yes, his slippers, black velvet with red-and-gold dragons embroidered on the front because ‘I’m here enough to warrant my own damn slippers’ and ‘these are fucking awesome,’ “We saw Hereditary in the theater!”

“And you were scared the whole time,” Aguni points out, gingerly lifting their food out of the bag and arranging the containers on their respective plates, “You had to sleep with the lights on for a week. Screwed up your cat’s sleep schedule and everything.”

Takeru swans his way over to Aguni’s refrigerator and opens it, more or less sticking his whole head inside to examine its (admittedly meager) offerings.

“It’s not my fault that Ziggy is such a smart, beautiful boy who knows what ‘lights out’ means. And besides,” Takeru says while examining the bottle of white wine Aguni had put in to chill, “I’ll be staying here tonight, so it won’t be an issue.”

“So the cat gets to sleep, but I don’t?”

“You, my dear, get a evening of my company, complete with scintillating conversation, cultural enrichment, and—as we have already established—your very own order of samosas,” Takeru calls out from the kitchen, rummaging for a suitable pair of wine glasses, “And besides, I plan on sleeping deeply and comfortably knowing that any and all monsters would no doubt eat you first, giving me ample opportunity to flee the scene…”

Aguni lifts the lid off his curry, admiring the rich yellow hue and inhaling its bold spices. There are even a few extra chilis lying on top, which is a lovely surprise.

Takeru arrives at the table, glasses in one hand and wine in the other. He gives the spread a discerning once-over and then a nod of apparent approval.

“Anyways,” Takeru says, twisting off the top of the wine bottle (not without giving Aguni a look of distaste as he does it), “I’m a bit disappointed in you, Mori-chan. I thought you’d fight me more on this one…”

“It’s a losing battle,” Aguni concedes, sitting himself down in his usual spot and turning on the television, “I have too many brain cells and not enough patience to go through the usual theatrics.”

Takeru hands him a generously-full wine glass—not as full as his own, of course, but still more than what the average person might pour.

“This’ll help the brain cell problem,” he says with an over-enthusiastic smile, “probably the patience, too. Wine makes you sentimental.”

“Hmph.”

“See? It’s already working.”

“Yeah, well,” Aguni grumbles, taking a small sip of his beverage, “better get the movie started before I change my mind.”

Takeru begins his usual indignant grumbling as he fumbles with the DVD player. Aguni could help him, but, frankly, it’s entertaining to watch his friend struggle with the simple electronic setup.

When Takeru manages to get the tray open, he gives a small cheer of victory. Aguni stifles a smirk.

Hopefully the movie is this much fun.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

“Mori. Hey, Mori-chan.”

Aguni rolls his eyes, and then himself onto his side to face Takeru.

“What,” he grumbles, squinting in the dark as he tries to make out the other mans’ shape, “piano thing still got you upset?”

“It ate her fingers, Mori,” Takeru whisper-shouts, “and then it got the rest of her too! That’s enough to upset anyone!”

“It wasn’t even that scary,” Aguni mentions, shimmying his shoulders in order to find a more comfortable spot on his futon, “besides, you don’t even play piano, so you don’t have to worry.”

Takeru is silent for a moment—a blessed, beautiful moment.

“I guess you’re right,” he says after his brief contemplation, “but that’s not the only thing on my mind.”

“I’m guessing ‘sleep’ isn’t one of ‘em?”

Takeru scoffs. There’s a shuffling and fluttering sound from his neighboring futon as he turns to face his disgruntled companion.

“In due time,” Takeru says, “what plagues me now is more of a philosophical question.”

Aguni sighs.

“Remember the part where that guy got turned into a pile of bananas?”

“Yeah,” Aguni responds, “that was weird.”

“What if that happened to me,” Takeru asks, sounding genuinely concerned, “would I turn into a pile of bananas, or would I be a different kind of fruit?”

Oh, you’re different alright, Aguni thinks to himself, but he knows better than to say that out loud. Takeru’s using his ‘this is going to keep me up all night unless you give me a good answer’ voice, so Aguni starts thinking about how best to answer.

“I think you’d be melons,” Takeru concludes, “yeah…definitely melons.”

“Because of my round head and lack of hair?”

“No,” Takeru snaps, “well, that wasn’t my original thinking.”

Aguni subtly checks his phone—half-past one o’clock in the morning, too late to send Takeru home on a train to ask his cat these burning questions instead of him.

“Why,” Aguni asks, “do you think I’d be melons?”

“Well, like you, melons are strong and tough on the outside. Make a nice thud sound when you smack ‘em.”

“So do I,” Aguni mentions, “if you get the right spot. But I also hit back, so that’s not very melon-y, is it?”

“Hm. I suppose not. But,” Takeru says, “where you really start to resemble the melon is on the inside.”

“Inside, huh?”

“Yeah,” Takeru considers for a moment, “underneath all that tough rind, melons are soft. Sweet, too. Nothing fancy, they’re not trying to prove anything, they’re just…good. Like you.”

Aguni hadn’t been expecting something so…sentimental. It’s a touching departure from their usual quips and playful jabs, and it makes something warm and kind of familiar bubble up in Aguni’s heart.

“And also,” Takeru tacks on, “they’re green. And green is your favorite color! So it’s perfect.”

“I think you’d be a strawberry,” Aguni says after a beat.

“A strawberry? You mean only one?”

“Only one,” Aguni confirms, “but one of those fancy designer ones, the kind they grow in those hydroponic farms and sell in department stores for thousands of yen.”

“I heard about a guy who got murdered at one of those places,” Takeru says, “some yakuza guy who was selling weed on the side, someone put a hit out on him and used the body for fertilizer.”

“That’s…disturbing,” Aguni replies, “but that’s beside the point. Don’t you want to know why I think you’d be a single strawberry?”

“Is it because they’re red?”

“Sort of,” Aguni says, “Got a lot of seeds, too. Get stuck in your teeth pretty easily, if you’re not careful.”

“I am rather tenacious.”

“You are.”

Aguni considers his next words carefully. His relationship with Takeru is…complicated, and uncertain, and if anyone ever asked him what they ‘are’ he wouldn’t know how to answer.

“Strawberries are sweet. They’re sour, too. You’d know the flavor anywhere. And you…”

He pauses. Takeru, for once, doesn’t try to fill the silence with his own voice.

“…Well, those designer strawberries are all one-of-a-kind, just like you. So that’s why there’s one one,” he says slowly, “and I like strawberries. Might even, uh…love ‘em.”

“Oh, Mori…”

Something flops onto Aguni’s blanket—once, twice, and ah, it’s Takeru’s hand, and he’s looking for something. Aguni slips his arm from under the covers and covers Takeru’s hand with his own. This is apparently what Takeru had been searching for, because he pulls Aguni’s hand closer to himself.

“You know,” Takeru says, “now that you mention it, I think I might love melon, too.”

Aguni feels lips against the back of his hand—a soft kiss, gentle, a reassurance as much as an act of affection—and he’s glad for the dark of night that hides the blush of his cheeks.

“I feel better now,” Takeru announces, giving Aguni’s hand a light squeeze, “In fact, I think I’m falling asleep as we speak…”

“Hmm,” Aguni hums in agreement.

He’s still holding Takeru’s hand, and Takeru, his—neither seem too keen on letting go, at least, not for now.

[let-it-raines]

your wonder under summer skies (10/?)

Summer in Storybrooke, Maine means one thing for its residents: tourist season. This year, for Emma Swan and Killian Jones, it means relationships ending and friendships changing all the while they attempt to figure out just what their relationship is. It’s somewhere straddling the line between friends and lovers, and there’s no guarantee of a soft landing if they fall into new territory.

rating: mature

ao3: beginning | current

tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 |

-/-

“Swan? Let’s do what?”

Emma’s lips are parted, and he keeps waiting for her to finish her sentence, to say something. He was rather interested in hearing what exactly she was about to suggest that they do, but she’s no longer paying him any attention.

What could have possibly gotten her attention?

Killian twists his head around to look behind him, and it would be impossible to miss Neal.

Neal and Tamara and the way that they’re standing hand in hand in line for the Ferris wheel like some kind of cliché out of a bad movie that plays on TV every Saturday night.

Well, fuck.

Killian’s hands fall from Emma’s hips before he moves them to her shoulders, tugging on them and trying to get her attention. It doesn’t work at first, but then she’s blinking and shaking her head before snapping her mouth shut, her lips pressed into a firm line.

“Hey, let’s get back to my place, yeah? The fireworks will be soon, and we don’t want Liam and Elsa to get the good spots. Liam’s got that huge head, so he might block the view.”

Her laugh in response is pathetic, and she obviously knows it from the way she overcorrects and attempts to make her laughter genuine. It falls flat. She’s an open book to him sometimes, he wishes all the time, and right now, he knows the path her mind is about to take.

He would know. He’s pretty much paved the damn path for her.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” she hisses, eyes slanting.

“It’s a holiday. Everyone here spends it at the pier.”

“Not Neal. Never Neal. He told me every year that he would never come with me. That asshole.”

Emma pulls away from him, and he loses his grip on her shoulders as she storms off toward Neal. Her swan falls off, and he has to lean down to pick it up.

Bloody hell.

Is he ever going to get to quit chasing this woman?

“Emma,” he shouts before cursing under his breath. He doesn’t need to bring attention to them. “Swan, hey.” He has to jog to catch up to her, tugging on her wrist and pulling her back and away from the main path until they’re standing between two booths.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to go yell at that fucking bastard for showing up here with her.”

“That is not going to make you feel better.”

“Really? Because I think getting to tell him that I absolutely despise him would make me feel a hell of a lot better.”

“For a moment, yeah, but then it all goes away and he gets the satisfaction of knowing that he is still affecting you like this.”

She scoffs and rolls her eyes. He may be a stubborn ass, but she’s the exact same way.

“Really? You’re telling me this? You, who if I remember correctly, had sex with me to forget about your ex when she showed up, is preaching about momentary satisfaction not being good enough.”

Killian flexes his hand and tries to keep it from balling up into a fist. He’s got the stuffed swan in his left hand, and it’s already straining from how he’s clenching it. Damn thing. He hates how easily it hurts now.

He hates that this is the way Emma is about to be, but if she’s going to have to realize that he’s more than capable of giving what he gets.

Stepping closer to her, Killian dips his head down until his looking into Emma’s eyes. “Aye, that I did, but I was not the first to do it and I also regretted treating you like that. I think it may be smart for you to remember that before you decide to throw stones at me because you’re upset with Neal.”

Her jaw clenches, and her eyes cut away from him. He can feel the heat radiating off of her, and her chest heaves as she breathes. There’s this part of him, something he knows is primal, that can’t look past the way her breasts look as they move or the way that he can see her stomach when he looks down. She’s been wearing a bloody bikini all night, the flannel shirt on top of it not at all buttoned, and he’s tried not to think too much of it.

He has spectacularly failed. The woman is a temptress.

But she is also his best mate, and none of that is what he should be focusing on since it doesn’t even make the list of his priorities at the moment.

“I think I need to be alone.”

“Swan – ”

“It’s…you’re fine. We’re fine. I’ll be on the rooftop at ten like I’m supposed to be so we can all watch explosions in the sky. I just need some time to breathe.”

“Emma.”

She finally looks at him. “I’m not going to talk to Neal. I promise. See you later, okay?”

“In half an hour, love. I’ll save you a seat.”

“Good.”

And then she’s walking away and turning in the opposite direction of Neal and Tamara. Killian, however, can’t seem to do that.

He’s seen Emma upset more times in the past month and a half than he has in the past five years. There have been times when she’s broody and annoyed and mad as hell, occasionally at him, but it’s never been like what he’s seen lately.

It’s never been heartbreak that she’s been attempting to hide.

If he’s honest with himself, he’s never cared this much either.

Right now, though, all he can think about is what a fucking idiot Neal has to be to cheat on Emma and to keep doing things that are going to upset her.

She doesn’t deserve it. No one does.

Well, Neal Cassidy might.

He and Tamara are still standing in line at the Ferris wheel, but Killian now realizes that they’re not in line at all. They’re simply standing there talking with Neal’s hand on Tamara’s ass as she throws her head back in laughter.

If Emma wanted Neal to come here every year, Killian can’t understand why he wouldn’t. They were together for half a decade, and the man couldn’t come once? It’s not asking much. Hell, it’s barely asking anything.

But he’s here with the woman he was sleeping with behind Emma’s back?

Maybe he should have let Emma tell him off because that would feel so damn good right now.

Breathing in, Killian pushes down the urge to walk toward Neal and decides to walk past him. Momentary satisfaction, he reminds himself. If he discouraged Emma from doing it, he can’t be the hypocrite.

Damn does he want to be.

Fortunately, or unfortunately really, for him, Neal seems to want to let him have the opportunity.

“Hey, Jones.”

Fuck.

Killian stops walking and slowly turns on his heels. Cassidy is walking toward him, his girlfriend staying back where they were standing, and Killian is definitely going to rip the head off of this swan before the night is over.

Better it than Neal, he guesses.

(Logistically. He would much rather rip the bastard’s head off, but he doesn’t want to spend the rest of his life in prison.)

“Cassidy,” Killian greets, but he doesn’t offer anything else.

Neal smiles and laughs before sticking his hands in his pockets and shrugging. Is he trying to look nice? Because it sure as hell isn’t working.

“Can I talk to you for a minute? In private.”

“You can talk, but you can talk here. I’ve got somewhere to be in a few minutes.”

Neal’s eyes narrow, and he looks down at Killian’s hand. Out of instinct, Killian wants to pull his shirtsleeves down and cover his scars, but that’s not what Neal is looking at.

“Look, man,” Neal sighs, that same, insincere smile on his face, “I saw you walking around earlier with Emma, and I feel like I’ve got to warn you.”

Oh, this asshole definitely deserves to have his head ripped off.

“Pardon?”

“You and Emma.” He shrugs again while Killian straightens his shoulders. “I always kind of knew you two had a thing going on, but I didn’t believe it until I saw you walking around with her earlier. I’m cool with it and all, but I don’t think you know what you’re getting into with her. There are a hell of a lot consequences when it comes to choosing to be with Emma, and they’re not good ones.”

Killian swallows as his teeth start to grind. What kind of bastard is this man? Who the hell does he think he is to tell Killian that there are consequences to being with Emma? Killian wants to laugh, he really does. He wants to laugh and tell Neal that he has no idea what he’s talking about since Killian is most definitely not with Emma.

Mostly, he wants to knock the man’s front teeth out and break his fucking nose. He used to not be this bad. Killian was rarely a fan, but Neal had his redeeming qualities. They could have been friends in a way.

He doesn’t mourn the lost opportunity there.

“What could you possibly know about choosing Emma?” Killian sneers, stepping into Neal’s space. “Because it seems to me that you didn’t, that you did the opposite of that, and for you to think that you have any right to what she does with her life has got to be the most idiotic thing I’ve ever heard.”

“So, you are fucking her then? I was right.”

It’s like he’s just been slapped across the cheek.

“What could possibly make you think that?”

“You wouldn’t be defending her like that if you weren’t.”

He scoffs and closes his eyes, his breathing heavy. “You said there were consequences to choosing Emma, aye? Well, I would still choose her every damn time even though I’m not with her. You, on the other hand, left, and the consequences of that mean I never want to hear about you trying to interfere with her life again. Go spend time with your girlfriend, Cassidy. I’m sure she’d love to know that you’re still hung up the woman you left to be with her.”

“Fuck you.”

Killian bites his tongue and focuses on the feel of the stuffed swan in his hand to keep him from doing something stupid.

“Emma has always deserved better than you. It’s a shame it took you hurting her to see it. Fuck off, Neal. I think it’s time that you moved on.”

“Neal?” Tamara calls from behind them. “Is everything okay?”

Neal blinks, slowly, and then the smile on his face transforms from sinister to charming. “Just catching up with an old friend.”

And then he walks away and goes back to Tamara.

Killian has no idea what just happened. All he knows is that he’s pissed off, still desperately wants to break Neal’s nose, and he doesn’t know how he’s going to act normal around everyone when they’re watching the fireworks.

He just really needs a damn drink.

But he is not paying for an overpriced one when he’s got perfectly good rum at home.

It’s easy to get back to his apartment once he gets out of the crowd. It’s quieter, too, and he can hear voices coming from the rooftop already. The darkness of the night makes it impossible to tell who’s up there, but he’ll find out soon enough. When he walks inside and makes his way upstairs, Skipper is asleep on the couch. He doesn’t bother to do more than lift his head when Killian comes in. Some guard dog.

Killian puts the swan down on the kitchen island, reaches into the cabinets for a bottle of rum, and takes a long sip. He doesn’t need a glass, not yet.

“You planning on sharing that?” Emma asks.

Shit. He didn’t even know she was here yet, but she’s sitting in the dark corner of the living room with her knees pulled to her chest.

“Do you want some?”

“You don’t have my wine, so yeah, yeah I do.”

She stands from the chair and walks over to him, grabbing the bottle out of his hand before taking a long, slow sip. She’s usually not much of a rum drinker, but it does happen on occasion.

“Why aren’t you up on the roof with the others?”

“Didn’t feel like climbing up there yet. You know, it’s really a shame that the fire escape is not on the side of the building that your room is on. Would have saved me once or twice.”

“I’ll have a talk with whoever built this place a few decades ago.”

She huffs and takes another sip before putting the bottle on the counter. “I wasn’t ready to see everyone. I don’t know. I felt like maybe I couldn’t keep it together, and I…well, I felt really damn pathetic.”

“Hey, hey, no, don’t do that. I – ” Killian sighs and reaches forward to put his hand on her shoulder, squeezing. “Do you want to go to my room and talk? I know we don’t have our slushies, but I think it can still work.”

“To talk or to…”

His lips press together. “To talk, love. Come on.”

Killian gently pushes Emma out of the kitchen until she’s walking toward his bedroom. He grabs the swan off the counter as a last-minute thought before following her. She doesn’t turn on the lights, so he doesn’t either. Instead he moves to open the curtains on all of his windows so that moonlight filters through. The fireworks will be starting soon, and he doesn’t want to miss them. He’s got a pretty good feeling they won’t make it up to the roof tonight, but he’s fine with that.

His mattress squeaks as Emma settles down, and it shifts when he joins her, the both of them settling against the headboard and under the comforter. It’s silent for awhile, and while Killian thinks Emma is going to take the lead, he finally realizes that she isn’t.

For once, it might have to be him making the first move.

Out of the corner of his eyes, his scars flash silver in the moonlight, and all of the sudden, Killian has this unbelievable need to share something he hasn’t talked about in years.

Something he’s never wanted to tell Emma before, but now, it’s all he can think about.

“Do you know how I got the scars on my arm, love?”

She twists her head. He’s not looking at her, but he can feel her gaze on his face instead of his arm. “No.”

“I was in an accident.”

“When you were in the Navy?”

Killian clicks his tongue. If only.

If only it had been that. He imagines that might be easier to deal with when it’s all said and done, but that’s not at all what happened.

“It was a car accident, actually.” He swallows and braces himself. If he focuses on simply staring at the painting of a sailboat hanging above his television, he might be able to get through this. “I was with my girlfriend at the time. Her name was Milah. We’d been out to dinner, and I was driving us back to my place. The roads were empty. I swear, I’d never even seen them that empty, and our light turned green so I started driving when an SUV ran a red light and crashed right into us in the intersection. I don’t actually know what happened after that, but the police report said we flipped several times before hitting a tree.”

A soft, small hand brushes against his own, and he spreads his fingers so Emma can twine hers together with his. It’s the most comfort he’s felt in ages, so he doesn’t stop himself when he brings their joined hands to his lips.

“Milah died in that accident, while all that happened to me was my hand getting caught in the door and shards of glass leaving some pretty nasty scars. I don’t even know how I stood up again after Liam told me she was gone. I didn’t think I would survive. I was so young and in love, and I thought she and I had the entire world in front of us.”

Emma squeezes his hand, and really, it’s better that way instead of her trying to say anything.

That’s not why he’s sharing this.

“I was so heartbroken. I’d never felt pain like that before, but then, as I started to make funeral arrangements, I got a call from her husband telling me that I was not welcome. I didn’t know she had a husband, that she had a son either, and it was like I was grieving two different things: the woman I’d lost and the woman I thought I knew.”

“Killian.”

“Don’t,” he whispers, pulling their arms over Emma’s shoulder and tugging her closer. “Don’t say anything. I don’t want pity. I simply felt like you deserved to know this about me and to know why I am so unbelievably fucked up when it comes to relationships. I loved a woman who lied to me for years, and I loved her still even after I knew about it. That anger you feel toward Neal? The one that’s mixed with betrayal and sadness and this underlying love, I have felt it. Sometimes I still do, and you are not pathetic for feeling anything that you’re feeling. I don’t care how many times we have to have this conversation. I will tell you the same thing every damn time.”

“Maybe one day I’ll actually be able to listen to you and believe it.”

“It takes time, and while I’m sure one of our friends is much better equip to understand emotions, I know that I understand you, Emma. I always have, and though you piss me off half the time, I’m never going to judge you for anything.”

She sighs, her shoulders moving with it, and then she leans her head over to his shoulder, strands of her hair tickling his chin, and Killian tugs her closer before brushing his lips against her forehead. There’s a loud whistle outside and then an explosion of light that flickers down over and over again as the fireworks show starts. the view isn’t quite the same from in here, the height of the windows not quite right, but he’s not going to complain. There are things much more important than lights in the sky.

“Do you want to hear something stupid?” Emma suddenly asks.

“I always want to hear something stupid.”

“I’ve never won a stuffed animal before. Hell, I’ve never even had one as a kid.”

Suddenly, he gets why it was such a big deal to Emma that Neal come with her to the festival. He understood, partially, but sometimes he forgets that Emma’s childhood wasn’t ideal. It was hard and painful from the few things he’s been honored to hear from her, and even with how much his sucked, it wasn’t like Emma’s. He at least had a few good experiences before his mum died and before his father became one of the biggest asses in the world.

It’s not a competition in who has had a shittier life, but it does help him keep on understanding her. A few days ago she made some off-hand comment about having a few minor run-ins with the law as a teenager, something about stealing food from convenience stories, and it clicked in his mind why she doesn’t like when Neal works at the pawn shop.

She doesn’t want to fall back into her past, and she doesn’t want to take any risks that are going to lead her there.

Knowing that and knowing that Neal must have known too, makes Killian seriously regret not breaking the man’s nose.

“It’s not stupid, love. If it’s important to you, in any way, it’s important to me.”

Her laugh is lost amongst the sound of the fireworks, but he still hears it. It’s a good sound to be able to hear.

“I always wanted to get to play the games as a kid, but I didn’t have the money. So, I don’t know. It was nice. It was stupid, but it was nice. I’ll have to find a place to put it in my apartment even though I’m not sure where in my apartment it would go.”

“On that chair in your bedroom where you put all the clothes you’re supposed to put up but never do.”

“Shut up. Just accept that I’m thankful for it. Don’t make fun of my laundry habits.”

“Sweetheart, I’ll win you however many stuffed animals your heart desires. No questions asked.”

“Then I expect several next year.”

Killian laughs into her hair as something unfamiliar settles in his stomach. “It’s a deal.”

-/-

-/-

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[letterboxd]

Best of SXSW 2021.

From properly good Covid comedies to an epic folk-horror doc and an Indigenous feminist Western, the Letterboxd Festiville team reveals their ten best of SXSW Online.

We dug out old lanyards to wear around the house, and imagined ourselves queuing up the block from The Ritz (RIP). We dialled into screenings and panels, and did our level best to channel that manic “South By” energy from our living rooms.

The SXSW festival atmosphere was muted, and that’s to be expected. But the films themselves? Gems, so many gems, whether shot in a fortnight on the smell of an oily stimulus check, or painstakingly rotoscoped over seven years.

When we asked SXSW Film director Janet Pierson what she and her team were looking for this year, she told us: “We’re always looking for films that do a lot with little, that are ingenious, and pure talent, and discovery, and being surprised. We’re just looking for really good stories with good emotional resonance.” If there was one common denominator we noticed across this year’s SXSW picks, it was a smart, tender injection of comedy into stories about trauma, grief, unwanted pregnancy, chronic health conditions, homelessness, homophobia and, yes, Covid.

It’s hard to pick favorites, but here are the ten SXSW features and two short films we haven’t stopped thinking about, in no particular order.

Recovery Directed by Mallory Everton and Stephen Meek, written by Everton and Whitney Call

“Covid 19 is in charge now” might be the most hauntingly funny line in a SXSW film. In Recovery, two sisters set out on a haywire road trip to rescue their grandmother from her nursing home in the wake of a severe Covid 19 outbreak. There’s no random villain or threat, because isn’t being forced to exist during a pandemic enough of a threat in itself? If ever we were worried about “Covid comedies”, SXSW managed to flush out the good ones. (Read about the Festiville team’s other favorite Covid-inflected comedies, including an interview with the directors of I’m Fine (Thanks for Asking).)

Alex Marzona praises the “off-the-charts chemistry” between leads Mallory Everton and Whitney Call. Best friends since they were nine, the pair also wrote the film, with Everton co-directing with Stephen Meek. Every laugh comes from your gut and feels like something only the cast and crew would usually be privy to. “You can tell a lot of the content is improvised, which just attests to their talent,” writes Emma. Recovery doesn’t make you laugh awkwardly about how awful the last year has been—rather, it reminds you that even in such times there are still laughs to be had, trips to be taken, family worth uprooting everything for. Just make sure you’ve packed enough wet wipes for the road, and think long and hard about who should babysit your mice. —EK

The Spine of Night Written and directed by Morgan Galen King and Philip Gelatt

Don’t get too attached to any characters from its star-studded cast—nobody is safe (or fully-clothed) in The Spine of Night’s raw, ultra-violent and cynical world. Conjured over the last seven years, directors Philip Gelatt and Morgan Galen King’s rotoscoped epic recaptures the dazzling imagination and scope of their influences Ralph Bakshi and Heavy Metal. Approaching an anthology-style structure to explore how ‘absolute power corrupts absolutely’—a proverb more potent now than when Gelatt and King began their project—the film packs a franchise’s worth of ideas in its 90-minute runtime. Though the storytelling justifiably proves itself overly dense for some, it will find the audience it’s after, as other Letterboxd members have declared it “a rare treat” and “a breath of fresh air in the feature-length animation scene”. For sure, The Spine of Night can join Sundance premieres Flee and Cryptozoo in what’s already a compelling year for unique two-dimensional animation. —JM

Kambole Campbell caught up with Gelatt and King (who are also Letterboxd members!) during SXSW to talk about animation inspirations and rotoscoping techniques.

The Drover’s Wife: The Legend of Molly Johnson Written and directed by Leah Purcell

Snakes, steers and scoundrels beware! Writer-director-star Leah Purcell ably repurposes the Western genre for Aboriginal and female voices in The Drover’s Wife. Molly Johnson is a crack-shot anti-heroine for the ages, in this decolonized reimagining of a classic 1892 short story by Henry Lawson. And by reimagining, we mean a seismic shift in the narrative: Purcell has fleshed out a full story of a mother-of-four, pregnant with her fifth, a missing husband, predatory neighbors, a mysterious runaway and a young English couple on different paths to progress in this remote Southern land. Purcell first adapted this story for the stage, then as published fiction; she rightly takes the leading role in the screen version, too.

As a debut feature director, Purcell (Goa-Gunggari-Wakka Wakka Murri) already has a firm grip on the macabre and the menacing, not shying away from violence, but making very careful decisions about what needs to be depicted, given all that Molly Johnson and her family are subjected to. She also sneaks in mystic touches, and a hint of romance (local heartthrob Rob Collins can take us on a walk to where the Snowy widens to see blooming wildflowers anytime). Judging by early Letterboxd reviews, it’s not for everyone, but this is Australian colonization through an Indigenous feminist’s eyes, with a fierce, intersectional pay-off. “Extremely similar to a vast majority of the issues and themes explored in The Nightingale,” writes Claira. “I’m slowly realizing that my favorite type of Westerns are Australian.” —LK, GG

Swan Song Written and directed by Todd Stephens

Udo Kier is often the bridesmaid, rarely the bride. Now, after a lifetime of supporting roles ranging from vampires and villains to art-house muse, he finally gets to shine center-stage in Swan Song. Kier dazzles as a coiffure soothsayer in this lyrical pageant to the passage of queer times in backwater Sandusky, Ohio. “He is absolutely wonderful here,” writes Adrianna, “digging deep and pulling out a mesmerizing, deeply affecting and emotionally textured performance, proving that he’s an actor with much more range than people give him credit for.”

A strong supporting cast all have melancholy moments to shine, with Linda Evans (Dynasty), Michael Urie (Ugly Betty) and Jennifer Coolidge (Legally Blonde) along for the stroll. Surreal camp touches add joy (that chandelier, the needle drop!) but by the end, the tears roll (both of joy and sadness). Writer-director Todd Stephens ties up his Sandusky trilogy in this hometown homage, a career peak for both him and Kier. Robert Daniels puts it well, writing that Swan Song is “campy as hell, but it’s also a heartfelt LGBTQ story about lost lovers and friends, vibrant memories and the final passage of a colorful life.” —LK

Leo Koziol spoke with Todd Stephens and Udo Kier during SXSW about Grace Jones, David Bowie and dancing with yourself.

Islands Written and directed by Martin Edralin

Islands is a Mike Leigh-esque story that presents a Canadian Filipino immigrant family full of quirk and character, centered around Joshua, a reticent 50-year-old homebody son. The story drifts in and out of a deep well of sadness. Moments of lightness and familial love make the journey worthwhile. “A film so Filipino a main plot device is line-dancing,” writes Karl. “Islands is an incredibly empathetic film about what it’s like to feel unmoored from comfort. It’s distinctly Filipino and deals with the psychology of Asian culture in a way that feels both profound and oddly comforting.” In a year in which we’ve all been forced to physically slow down, Islands “shows us how slow life can be,” writes Justin, “and how important it is to be okay with that.” Rogelio Balagtas’s performance as Joshua—a first-time leading role—won him the SXSW Grand Jury Award for Breakthrough Performance. —LK

Ninjababy Directed by Yngvild Sve Flikke, written by Flikke with Johan Fasting and Inga H. Sætre

Ninjababy is as ridiculous as its title. When 23-year-old Rakel finds herself accidentally pregnant, scheduling an abortion is a no-brainer. But she’s way too far along, she’s informed, so she’s going to have to have the baby. The ensuing meltdown might have been heartbreaking if the film wasn’t so damn funny. Ninjababy draws on the comforting and familiar (“Lizzie McGuire if she was a pregnant young adult,” writes Nick), while mixing shock with originality (Erica Richards notices “a few aggressive and vulgar moments [but] somehow none of it seemed misplaced”).

An animated fetus in the style of Rakel’s own drawings appears to beg and shame Rakel into motherhood while she fights to hold onto her confidence that not wanting to be a mother doesn’t make her a bad person. Ninjababy’s greatest feat is its willingness to delve into that complication: yes, it’s righteous and feminist and 21st-century to claim your own body and life, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy to turn away from something growing inside of you. It’s a comedy about shame, art, finding care in unlikely places—and there’s something in it for the gents, too. The titular ninjababy wouldn’t leave Rakel alone, and it’s unlikely to leave you either. Winner of the SXSW Global Audience Award. —SH

The Fallout Written and directed by Megan Park

Canadian actress Megan Park brought the youthful wisdom of her days on the teen drama series The Secret Life of the American Teenager to her first project behind the camera, and it paid off. Following the scattered after-effects of a school shooting, The Fallout may be the most acute, empathetic depiction of childhood trauma on screen in recent memory. “It sneaks up on you with its honesty and how it spends time with its lead, carried so beautifully by Jenna Ortega. Even the more conventional moments are poignant because of context,” writes Kevin L. Lee. Much of that “sneaky” honesty emerges as humor—despite the heavy premise, moments of hilarity hang on the edges of almost every scene. And Ortega’s portrayal of sweet-but-angsty Vada brings self-awareness to that humor, like when Vada’s avoidant, inappropriate jokes with her therapist reveal her desperation, but they garner genuine laughs nonetheless.

In this debut, Park shows an unmatched understanding of non-linear ways that young people process their pain. Sometimes kids try drugs! Sometimes they scream at their parents! But more often than not, they really do know what they want, who loves them, and how much time they need to grieve (see also: Jessie Barr’s Sophie Jones, starring her cousin Jessica Barr, out now on VOD and in theaters). The Fallout forsakes melodrama to embrace confusion, ambiguity and joy. Winner of both the SXSW Grand Jury and Audience Narrative Feature Awards, and the Brightcove Illumination Award. —SH

Ludi Directed by Edson Jean, written by Jean and Joshua Jean-Baptiste

When Ludi begins, it’s quiet and dreamy. The film’s opening moments conjure the simple pleasures of the titular character’s Haitian heritage: the music, the colors, the people. Ludi (Shein Monpremier) smiles to herself as she starts her morning with a tape recording her cousin mailed from Haiti to Miami, and listens as her family members laugh through their troubles before recording an upbeat tape of her own. But that’s where the dreaminess ends—Ludi is an overworked, underpaid nurse picking up every shift she possibly can in order to send money home. Writer-director Edson Jean fixates on the pains and consequences of Ludi’s relentless determination, which comes to a head when she moonlights as a private nurse for an old man who doesn’t want her there.

Ashton Kinley notes how the film “doesn’t overly dramatize or pull at false emotional strings to make its weight felt. The second half of the feature really allows all of that to shine, as the film becomes a tender and empathetic two-hander.” George’s (Alan Myles Heyman) resentment of his own aging body steps in as Ludi’s antagonist. Jean throws together jarring contrasts: George throwing Ludi out of the bathroom, followed by Ludi’s memories of home, followed by another lashing out, followed by a shared prayer. The tension is unsustainable. By interspersing the back-breaking predicament of a working-class immigrant with the sights and sounds of the Caribbean, Ludi elegantly, painfully reveals what the cost of a dream can be. —SH

Woodlands Dark and Days Bewitched: A History of Folk Horror Written and directed by Kier-La Janisse

Building on the folk horror resurgence of films like The Witch and Midsommar, Kier-La Janisse’s 193-minute documentary Woodlands Dark and Days Bewitched is a colossal, staggering undertaking that should school even the most seasoned of horror buffs. “Thorough is an understatement,” says Claira.

Combining a historian’s studied, holistic patience with a cinephile’s rabid, insatiable thirst, the film, through the course of six chapters, broadens textbook British definitions, draws trenchant socio-political and thematic connections, debunks myths and transports viewers to far-flung parts of the globe in a way that almost feels anthropological. As Jordan writes, “Three hours later and my mind is racing between philosophical questions about the state of hauntology we generationally entrap ourselves in, wanting to buy every single one of the 100+ films referenced here, and being just a bit in awe of Janisse’s truly breathless work.” An encyclopedic forest worth losing yourself in—get ready for those watchlists to balloon. Winner of the SXSW Midnighters Audience Award. —AY

Introducing, Selma Blair Directed by Rachel Fleit

There’ll likely be some level of hype when this intimate collaboration between actress Selma Blair and filmmaker Rachel Fleit comes out later in the year on Discovery+, and that’s okay, because that is Blair’s intention in sharing the details of her stem-cell transplant for multiple sclerosis. There’d be little point in going there if you are not prepared to really go there, and Introducing, Selma Blair is a tics-and-all journey not just into what life is like with a chronic condition, a young son, and a career that relies on one’s ability to keep a straight face. It’s also an examination of the scar tissue of childhood, the things we are told by our parents, the ideas we come to believe about ourselves. “I almost felt like I shouldn’t have such intimate access to some of the footage in this documentary,” writes Andy Yen. “Bravo to Selma for allowing the filmmakers to show some truly raw and soul-bearing videos about her battle with multiple sclerosis that make us feel as if we are as close to her as family.” —GG

Femme Directed by Sam H. Freeman and Ng Choon Ping

I May Destroy You fans, rejoice: Paapa Essiedu, who played Arabella’s fascinating best friend Kwame, takes center stage in Sam H. Freeman and Ng Choon Ping’s intoxicating short film Femme. It’s a simple premise—Jordan, a femme gay man, follows his drug dealer (Harris Dickinson, mastering the sexually repressed brusque young man like no one else) home to pick up some goods on a night out. Except, of course, it’s not that simple. The co-directors build a world of danger, tension and electricity, with lusciously lensed scenes that lose focus as the threat rises. Frankie calls it “hypnotizing and brutal and gorgeous” and we couldn’t agree more. A crime thriller wrestling with hyper-masculinity seen through the eyes of an LGBTQ+ character, with a sucker-punch ending to boot, the world needs more than twenty minutes of this story. —EK

Play It Safe Directed by Mitch Kalisa

If you (unwisely) thought that the vulnerable, progressive environment of drama school would be a safe space for Black students, Play It Safe confirms that even a liberal bunch of actors (and their teacher) are capable of being blind to their own egregiously racist microagressions. Mitch Kalisa’s excellent short film explores structural prejudice head-on, in an electric acting exercise that rests on where the kinetic, gritty 16mm camera is pointing at every pivotal turn. At first, we’re with Black drama student Jonathan Ajayi as he receives the assignment; then we are with the rest of the class, exactly where we need to be. “Literally in your face and absolutely breathtaking,” writes Nia. A deserving winner of the SXSW Grand Jury and Audience narrative shorts prizes. —GG

Follow the Festiville team on Letterboxd

[treatian]

The Chronicles of the Dark One:  Breaking the Curse

Chapter 11:  Known Hiding Places

Fuck!

He didn't know what it meant that David suddenly had a memory, but he knew it wasn't good. With Emma, the Curse was breaking. He'd seen evidence of that. There was no doubt in his mind all these changes were because of her arrival. He had many theories as to why David didn't have his memories when he woke, but the one that he'd been hoping for was that it wasn't so much evidence of the Curse breaking, but rather a side effect of the Curse breaking.

He'd hoped that no memories might have been a step in the right direction, evidence of a weakness in the Curse. After being asleep for twenty-eight years, it wasn't that David didn't have memories or couldn't remember; it was simply that Regina hadn't given him memories. Regina had planned to keep him that way, so she'd seen no reason to waste magic on crafting a new identity for him. That was the theory he'd hoped for the most, at least, because under that theory, then David could have had so much potential for helping to break the Curse if he truly woke up. It would have been so easy!

He'd already been drawn to Mary Margaret, and the pair had already woken one another up while they were under the Curse. So far, it was only Henry who seemed convinced of the Curse, if David and Mary Margaret could fall in love here again if they could wake one another up…that sort of development could have been invaluable for Emma in the long run.

But for David to suddenly regain his memories…how had that happened? What did it mean? It had been more than a week since the last big signs of the Curse breaking, since the crickets came back to Storybrooke. Had Emma started adjusting? Was she getting too comfortable with life here? Too used to Henry's warnings? Buying into Regina's theory that her son needed help from Archie? Was she less fierce? Less persistent? In a way, he almost hoped that was the case! Because that theory was bad, but it wasn't as bad as the other theory he had.

Regina had done something.

David had told him that he'd run into the Mayor before coming into his shop. Was it possible that Regina had seen what was going on and fought back against the breaking of the Curse? Had she done something to give memories to the Former Prince Charming? Oh, how he hoped that wasn't the case. Because if that was what happened, then it confirmed what he'd feared and suspected from the beginning…Regina had magic. Somewhere in this town, she had access to power that he did not. And though he'd been behaving in these last few weeks as though that were a likely possibility, to have confirmation of it was a terrifying thing. If she could activate Cursed memories within David Nolan, what else was she capable of doing?

Fuck!

He'd left work; locked the shop, and driven straight home but not before calling Dove and telling him to go to the toll bridge path and tell him what he saw. He'd been nearby and didn't ask questions as to why he was abandoning Emma Swan to go watch a bridge path. He was nearly home when Dove sent him a message that David had emerged from the path, crying as he walked down Main Street. He'd been finished with dinner and doing the dishes when he received another message that Mary Margaret had appeared. She was also crying.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to break something. He wanted to go and kill himself an Evil Queen!

But he didn't. Instead, he went about his typical routine that night. He glanced at the chipped cup, still set perfectly upon its clean and orderly table. He looked in on Bae's shawl hidden in his kitchen drawer. Still, he waited until he was dressed and ready for bed before checking for the most important item he owned because if Regina did have magic and was capable of watching him, then he didn't even want to give her a glimpse of the dagger. So he went to bed, rolled over onto his side, then slid his hand between his pillows so he could feel the dagger through the fabric of his pillowcase.

Still there.

Still safe.

But here in his home, if Regina had magic…it wasn't good enough. If his store could be broken into by Ashley, then his home could be broken into by anybody, especially a Mayor who possessed her mother's old skeleton keys and could open any lock. The dagger was something he couldn't risk being taken.

He had two options.

Either figure out a way to discreetly carry a fourteen-inch dagger with him everywhere he went in Storybrooke and hope that Regina didn't notice or find it suspicious if he did.

Or make a new plan.

Obviously, he elected for the second option. He spent most of the next day brainstorming, going over plan after plan in his head. At the same time, Dove continued to send him updates about David going home and Kathryn taking him back; meanwhile, he'd seen none other than Dr. Whale slip out of Mary Margaret's apartment early in the morning, leaving him with a mental image he was happy to ignore. The good news was that by the end of the day, he had a plan together. It wasn't a great one, it wasn't something he was thrilled with, but it was the safest plan he had, one that accounted for Regina looking away at just the right time so that he could do his work.

That night he sent a message that Dove was to meet him at the shop bright and early. The bird didn't complain. Not one bit. And the next morning, he managed to sneak the dagger out of his pillowcase and place the necessary items in the trunk of his car. He parked on the street and didn't even bother going inside. He just waited for Dove to turn up, and it was only then that he unlocked the door. He explained that he wanted him to go to Regina and keep her busy for one hour. No more, no less. How? He didn't care. Start a fire, complain about how Mr. Gold was treating him, talk about the volume of the clocktower chiming at night now that it was working again, hell, Dove could tell her that he'd sent him to complain about the library being such an eyesore and it would be acceptable! So long as it was for one hour, he'd make sure to cover anything that happened later.

Dove was irritated but knew better than to not listen to him. And so, twenty minutes after releasing Dove for the morning, he received a text message that told him he was about to see Regina. And he wasted no time.

He immediately got into his car and drove out into the woods on the outskirts of town. He parked his car on the side of the road and slipped on rubber boots and an apron, and then grabbed the shovel from his trunk. Then he walked inside. He'd purposefully chosen a random spot but one that was easy for him to find again. A small cluster of trees by a fallen log, perhaps a three-minute walk directly east into the woods. One of the trees had a flimsy tangle of bushes and ferns surrounding its trunk. It was easy to spot and easy to identify if he needed to come back later. It was elevated slightly, and the roots would ensure the ground didn't erode. Not to mention his watch told him he had only forty minutes to get this accomplished and get back to the shop, so Regina didn't notice his absence.

With that in mind, he started to dig. Two inches. Four inches. Eight inches, he dug until there was easily a hole that was one foot deep into the ground, big enough to fit his dagger. He'd wrapped it in cloth before he'd left home that morning, and he intended to bury it in the cloth as well. So, with a silent prayer that he was doing the right thing and not making a mistake that Nimue would chastise him for when the Curse was broken, he plopped his bundle into the hole and then began to refill it.

He was just about finished when he heard it, a sound he hadn't heard since his time in the Enchanted Forest, one that sent shivers down his back. Was that…could it be…a wolf? Half of him hoped it was at the same time the other half hoped it wasn't. On the one hand, there had never been any evidence of wolves in Storybrooke. On the other hand, there had never been evidence of crickets either until nearly two weeks ago. It certainly sounded like a wolf, and he supposed that there might have been one here who had been living quietly in the Curse…unless, of course, Ruby had realized what she was and regained some of her magic. Either way, the sound of howling and his phone telling him that he had twenty-five minutes to get back to his car and return to the shop told him that it was time to go. So, with one last cursory look around the spot he'd left the dagger, he took a deep breath, shifted the brush around him, and emerged…

Only to come face to face with Sheriff Graham.

For a moment, he feared failure, feared Regina had been on to him and sent her huntsman out to watch him as he'd sent his bird to distract her. But then he took in the Sheriff's face. He appeared out of breath, as though he were running from something or someone.

Suddenly he remembered the wolf he'd heard. That, coupled with the Sheriff's previous history...

If memory recalled, in a past life, he was a friend to the animals, specifically the kind with four legs and lots of teeth.

Maybe he wasn't running from anything…maybe he was running to some creature. That was best for him. If that assumption were true, then it meant he'd only just arrived. He hadn't been watching him hide his dagger and couldn't report the behavior to Regina. But only if he played this right.

"Good morning, Sheriff," he excused, suddenly aware that they weren't in his shop but rather the middle of a forest that was supposed to be deserted save for the animals. Graham was smart. And he had just stumbled upon him out in the middle of nowhere. He had to tread very carefully. He had to keep the focus on Graham and not him. Regina was supposed to be kept busy, but he was her bedmate…what was he doing here? "Sorry if I startled you."

"Right. Sorry, I…I thought you were a wolf," Graham huffed.

He smiled. Now…why would a police sheriff suddenly take an interest in wolves. "Did I forget to shave?"

"What are you doing out here so early?"

Shit. "A spot of gardening," he excused, hoping he didn't want details. "Yourself?"

"I was looking for, um…"

"A wolf. Yeah, I think I'm beginning to catch on," he interrupted. The best way to distract a person was to turn their attention back to themselves. If he could make the Sheriff feel like the crazy, stupid one running through the forest, maybe he wouldn't take too much note of his own presence. "You know, to the best of my knowledge, Sheriff, there are no wolves in Storybrooke. Not the literal kind, anyway. Why are you looking?"

"You'll think I'm crazy."

"Try me," he grinned. A sheriff taking an interest in a wolf was absurd; Mr. Gold wanted him to know that. A Huntsman who had once had many of them as his companions, on the other hand…not so absurd. And Rumpelstiltskin wanted very much so to hear his answer. He was holding his breath, waiting for this answer. After the disappointment that was now David Nolan the other night, he was eager for some good news.

"I saw one in my dreams, and then I saw one for real. Just a few hours ago. Did you, uh…did you see anything unusual out there?"

He raised his shovel and stared at it for a bit, not because he was particularly interested in it but because it kept him from leaping into the air with joy. "Saw a wolf in his dreams and then one for real."

It could have been just a dream. But after twenty-eight years of nothing, he doubted "just a dream" would send him running into the woods, actually looking for one. Especially not when, besides Henry and Mary Margaret, Sheriff Graham was spending the most time with the Savior now that she was the deputy. All magic had a price, even in this land. He wondered, whatever it was that gave David Nolan memories…memories for memories was a cost with a nice ring of irony to it.

"I'm afraid not. I do wish I could be more helpful," he explained, moving around the Sheriff, away from his dagger.

The dagger…he'd have to hide it again. Whether he had his memories or not, Regina still possessed his heart. He couldn't take the risk that he'd tell her that at the same time she'd been distracted, he'd been out digging in the woods and having her put two and two together. But…as long as he'd already buried it and was moving away…

"You know, Sheriff," he muttered, turning back. "They say that dreams…dreams are memories; memories of another life."

The Sheriff stared at him with something like fear in his eyes. No. Not fear. Panic. But not an external one, an internal panic. A crisis of identity. That was encouraging. "And what do you believe?" he finally breathed.

"I never rule out anything," he commented with a smile. "Good luck, Sheriff. I do hope you find what you're looking for."

He moved over the log before him and began to travel back to his car. But after he was a distance. He turned back at the rustling, at the moving of Sheriff Graham. He held his breath, hoping that the Huntsman was nowhere near his dagger. He wasn't. He was looking about, this way and that, looking perhaps for his wolf. And then he was gone. Into the woods, chasing after…wolves or ghosts, he didn't know. But he was away from the dagger.

Still, he let out another curse as he watched the Huntsman disappear into the woods. The dagger was safe for now, but he couldn't leave it there not for too long. He glanced at his watch. His hour was up. Or at least it would be soon. He didn't have time to unbury it and bury it again in a different place. He didn't have time to do one or the other either. He had to go.

Graham was a threat to it. But for now, he was occupied. He needed to go. He needed to rethink his plan, find a new hiding spot, plan another way to keep Regina occupied. The house wasn't safe, the woods were compromised, perhaps the third time would be the charm.

[eyes-like-a-pisces]

Rules: Answer 10 questions, tag 10 people and make another 10 questions.🧜‍♀️

Questions from my astrological twin: @maiden-song 💕

1. if you could choose to glimpse the afterlife, would you?

Yes, I would. I think a lot about It.

2. under what circumstances do you think you past life was lived?

I could have had many past lifes. I think I was a native american, cause I've always felt bonded to their tradicion and same with China, cause when I hear the sound of Erhu - traditional chinese instrument, something wakes up in me. I've also always wanted to see Sweden & Finland, so maybe I was doing something there... I mean, I could do anything. I see myself in biblical times, as well as middle ages. I could be a renaissance artist, as well as dying of hunger during victorian era, or something, and that's probably why I'm still careful with money, haha. For my latest one, I think I could have been a hippie in the 60/70s and had some drug use experience, cause when I was a child I used have dreams about taking drugs, even if I didn't know anything about It. I also had some experience with psychics (and "psychics"), my mom had a past life regression and she told me she saw me few times... I don't take anything for granded, but reincarnation is one of my favourite theories.

3. what three skills would you instantly master if you had the choice?

Playing every instrument, speaking every language, singing beautifully

4. would your rather no passion or no pain?

No pain. Everything is needed in life, but you know, enough is enough.

5. if you had a chance to leave this world and go to another one, would you take it?

Depends of the world and who I would meet there. Even if this world can be cruel and disappointing at times, I still have some love for him and humanity.

6. if you could smell like anything in the world, what would it be?

Like the first day of spring, when you go outside and the air smells different. Or a storm.

7. do you feel like common interests or philosophical comparability are not important?

They are very important. I can't imagine a relationship without similar interests, views. You either get bored or fight constantly. I think that the whole point of searching a partner is trying to find things you got in common. The more similar you are, the more understood you feel and more you are attracted to them. That's my experience at least. That's a very basic example, but as you may noticed, I'm very much into music and I was dating a guy, who wasn't into music that much at all. I thought It doesn't matter at first, but then I started feeling like I'm missing my favourite way to connect with other person. Once I met a guy who loved music as much as I do, I'm sorry to admit It, but my partner became unattractive to me.

Similar interests and views are needed at the beginning, to bond with somebody, and later, to simply enjoy spending time together (thanks Captain Obvious). I mean... chemistry and good will are not enough for a relationship to last. Don't get me wrong, I don't think you have to be identical and agree on everything - some differences can be inspiring, balance your relationship and teach you something new. It's also ok and even needed, to have some separate hobbies, things that you like to do on your own. There are also other important things, like, if you equally care about each other and if you are on the same page in general, but I can't imagine not agreeing in the key points and things that are the most important to you. And the only person who can decide what is the most important is the person who is in that relationship, no matter if It's about interests, philosophy or religion. But beside a romantic relationship, I think It's good to be surrounded by different people and listen what they got to say.

8. if there was one mystery you alone could learn the answer too, what would it be?

The mystery of life in general. Why we are here, is there any destiny, how we are connected, how this universe works, what happens after death...

9. in your opinion, is there anything more important than love?

No :) (I'm not talking about putting your relationship before other things. I'm talking about love as a big force and meaning of this universe)

10. describe a new planet you would live on, if you could.

I want things to be diverse, monumental... Maybe another moon, why not. As a concept of the world, I wish there would be peace :) everybody has their safe place to live, will to live, passion, purpose, someone to love and who loves them back. Amen.

Questions from @mybloodiedvalentine 💕👯

1. What is an unpopular opinion you hold you about which you feel strongly and with which you seem to notice a lot of people disagree?

Nothing specific comes to my mind at the moment (that I haven't mentioned before). I sure have some, but what's unpopular opinion in general and what's unpopular opinion on tumblr, are two different things. Maybe, that the "tumblr positivity" is not really helpful. Like: "in case you need to hear this: you are smart, you are loved... ". How do you know that? Those are just empty words. But It's better to spread positivity than negativity, of course.

2. What is the nicest thing a stranger has ever told you that you can recall?

Oh, I had a few situations like that... This is so lovely, when a stranger wants to just be genuinely nice, not just catcalling you...For example, when I was with my 3 girlfriends at the club and 2 ladies in their 40s where like: "excuse me, we just wanted to say that we can't stop starring at you all, cause you are the priettiest girls in the club." And we were like: aww, omg, you are beautiful too, come dance with us. And we were all dancing in our witches circle ignoring all sweaty men around us, haha. Or when my mom went to the the same hair saloon as me and asked hair dresser if she remembers me and she said that she does and that I'm nice and intelectual. I'm her faithful client now ;_; (Sorry for sucking my own dick, but It was nice to remind myself about these situations).

3. Has a piece of art or music ever made you cry? If so, do you remember a specific moment? 

Crying to music is my passion. The latest intense moment was few days ago. I was loading a dishwasher at night and I played some music and then "lover you should've come over" by Jeff Buckley came on and sudden wave of lonelliness hit me so hard, that I just had to put down the plate, hide my face in my hands and weep ✌

4. What’s your favourite piece of clothing?

Idk, maybe my Penny Lane coat :)

5. What’s a random childhood memory that fills you with a deep sense of comforting nostalgia? 

Sledding with kids during a very cold winter in my home town, until It got dark and snow looked like sprinkled with glitter and having my freezed feet warmed up with a hair dryer, when I came back home, haha.

6. What is/was your favourite thing about your mom? If not your mom, your dad? Or best friend?

My favourite thing about my mom is that she's tolerant and open minded. I didn't have to lie to her or pretend I'm someone I'm not because of that. My favourite thing about my dad is that he actually cared about being a parent, even tho my parents divorced. I respect that he has unwavering morals and huge knowledge about a world - biology, astronomy, music, art...- subject doesn't matter- but he is very modest about It.

7. What’s something you learned on your own of which you’re proud?

Playing guitar

8. When was a moment in your life you remember laughing the hardest?

I was playing cards since I was a kid. After few years, when I was about 13 y. o. I got the first poker, a royal flush. When I saw my cards, I'm not sure why, I just coudn't believe my luck, I started laughing so hard I almost died.

9. What do you like to do when you’re having a hard time mentally that invariably calms you down?

Really depends of the kind of situation and if It's triggered by something or just a longer period of time feeling in a certain way. The is no a magic trick, but some things might be helpful. When It's concrete situation, at first, when the feelings are really intense, then I just can't calm down. Every try to do so, has a reverse effect. Like, I CAN'T THE FUCK CALM DOWN and It makes me even more angry. Brain needs about 20 min to chill, if It's not triggered, so It's better to be left alone and just go mad a little until brain will have enough haha. Have a good cry, listen to some music, have a lonely walk, write my feelings down etc.

I like to listen to Teal Swan on youtube. She's a spiritual teacher. I know, It might not sound encouragingly, but she actually seems very down to earth. She has a video about like, every emotion and every problem ever. She's very good in naming feelings, rationalizing them and It makes you feel more understood. And It calms me down as result. ASMR doesn't work for me, but I remember that at some point I liked to listen to sounds of the nature, like rain, waves etc + guided meditation to fall asleep.

Music always helps in general - listening, playing guitar, singing. I also like to take an oil and do a face massage. I'm really sorry if I sound like an instagram influencer 🤢, but when you feel bad for a longer time, you frown and there is a tention in your jaw, it can be really relieving. I follow instructional videos on yt.

When I have a longer period of going into downward spiral, then every way to distract my brain is good - TV shows, internet content that is not related to my life situation (although, sometimes It's good to distance yourself from social media), for example, I like criminal podcasts, cause they are occupying enough to distract a miserable brain, meeting somebody, going to a place I've never been before. + any kind of shedule, reason to leave the house, any goal, anything positive to look forward to and having even the simplest things done, is a blessing (even if sometimes It's the last thing I wanna do). I also tend to be much sadder in the evening, so I just go to sleep. When nothing works, then It's time for the professional help.

10. Do you have a favourite holiday memory?

Discovering Cocteau Twins.

Best regards if u actually read all that chatter, but those questions were so interesting, that I couldn't limit myself to one sentence answer (in most cases).

My questions are:

1. Who or what was the most influential for your music taste?

2. If you could time travel, where and when would you like to go first?

3. If you could be someone from an opposite gender for a day, how would you like to look like and what would you do?

4. Do you have a style icon/inspiration? Or a favourite designer? Desribe your dream clothing style

5. What's the song by a band/artist from your country that you could recommend? (From your hometown or state eventually)

6. What is the most rebellious thing you've ever done?

7. Has ever something in your life happened, that you coudn't explain with logic?

8. What 5 objects someone could use to summon you?

9. What is your favourite name from your culture's language? And outside your culture's language?

10. What's a song you normally wouldn't admit you like or different from music that you usually listen, but still enjoy?

I tag: @winterdryad @bowiepop @nightmare @confusion-in-the-sea-of-sorrow @l0w-budget @numberoneblind @mirandasinclairs @mysticbride @leperwitch @comeacrossthedesertnoshoeson @hexafu @mielmelancolie @arcane-delight

[lilacmoon83]

Clarity

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 7: Disbelief

"He's right, Emma…" Mary Margaret finally spoke, as the blonde turned to look at her best friend. But what she saw alarmed her. She had seen tell tale signs of this over the past few weeks since she and David had started their relationship amidst his divorce. She had seen a boldness and confidence in her best friend that had not been there before, but she had been reluctant to acknowledge it, since she had been hell bent on denying that David was good for her, let alone that their love might be real. Acknowledging that meant facing truths that Emma was not ready for

And seeing her best friend now look at her with watery eyes filled with more love than Emma had ever known was something she was also not ready for.

"It's true…" Mary Margaret said tearfully.

"She's right Mom...it's true and they have their memories back now!" Henry called, as he came out of the bathroom with David and ran up to her. He hugged her around the waist and she hugged him too.

"Henry...I know that you want it to be true, but it just can't be," Emma said.

"Why won't you believe? And why should I believe you when you lied to me?" Henry asked in frustration.

"Henry…" she started to say.

"It's real…" he said, as he opened the book to a page that showed Rumpelstiltskin and a young Baelfire.

"This is you, isn't it?" he asked. Neal smiled.

"Yeah…" he said, as he knelt beside him.

"Wow...you figured all this out on your own?" he asked in amazement. Henry shrugged.

"He is a very smart little boy," Mary Margaret said fondly.

"It got kind of obvious when I was the only kid growing and passing through grades, while all my friends stayed behind in the previous grade," he said.

"I'm sorry...that must have been hard," Neal replied.

"He's right," Mary Margaret interjected.

"I didn't realize it when I was cursed...but all my students, except Henry, have been in my class for twenty-eight years," she said in amazement.

"Do you hear yourself?" Emma snapped.

"This is insane!" she cried, as she looked at all of them.

"Emma…" David started to say.

"No...you're the last person I need to hear from! You dumped your wife to have an affair with my best friend!" Emma cried.

"That's not true!" Mary Margaret exclaimed.

"He is my husband...not Kathryn's," she said fiercely.

"She's right...I never stood at the altar with Kathryn, but I did stand at one with her, twice in fact," David replied. Emma scoffed.

"She's right...Regina panicked when David woke up and had marriage papers drawn up to keep them apart. I can confirm that and even removing all of the curse stuff, you know from your profession that faking marriage papers is not difficult," Gold reasoned. She sighed.

"You have to admit that even you were skeptical that night when Kathryn just showed up out of the blue, claiming to have no idea her husband had been in a coma for years," he added. That was definitely true and Regina being his emergency contact had never made any sense either.

"Emma...if you want scientific proof of all of this, why don't the three of you just do a DNA test?" Neal asked. They all looked at each other, wondering why none of them had really thought of that.

"That's...that's a really good idea," Mary Margaret agreed.

"Have you forgotten that Henry is with us and Regina has probably filed kidnapping charges against me? I don't think we have time to do a DNA test. We need to get back to Storybrooke," Emma said.

"I doubt she filed them with any law enforcement. She does not want that kind of attention on Storybrooke. Plus, if she did, she knows her adoption of him can come into question," Gold stated.

"What do you mean?" Neal asked.

"I mean that I arranged the adoption...and there were no home follow ups that are usually required with the adoption of a child from the system," Gold replied.

"Did you know he was my son?" Neal asked.

"No...that was all fate, I assure you," Gold replied.

"The system is overwhelmed...kids fall through the cracks all the time," Emma said.

"Yes...and Regina would want to keep it that way. An investigation from them would be bad for her, especially since the biological parents have resurfaced and one that didn't know about him," Gold reasoned.

"He's right...we have just as much leverage on her as she has on us. Maybe more," Mary Margaret agreed. David slipped his arms around her from behind and pulled her close.

"Then we use it. The town might still be cursed, but we're not. And she does not want everyone else to wake up," he said.

"She probably also doesn't want Henry's biological father stepping into the picture either. But I am," Neal said.

"Then you'll be returning to Storybrooke with us?" Gold asked.

"Not for you," Neal replied, as he looked down at his son.

"For him," he stated. That brought a smile to Mary Margaret's face.

"Don't I get a say in that?" Emma questioned.

"Of course you do...but I'm not abandoning him now that I know about him," Neal answered.

"No...just me, right?" she countered.

"I didn't want to!" he cried.

"Then why did you?" she demanded to know.

"Because August told me I had to!" he exclaimed. She pulled back.

"August...you know August?" she asked suspiciously.

"Not until he tracked me down, that night we were supposed to escape to Canada and told me everything," Neal revealed.

"Everything about what?" Emma asked. He rolled his eyes.

"The curse, Emma...the curse! He's from there too," Neal replied.

"Really? Who is he?" Henry asked.

"Uhh...he's Pinocchio," Neal answered. Emma snorted.

"Well, that explains the lying," she quipped.

"Wait...Pinocchio? That doesn't make any sense. How did he get here?" Snow asked. Neal looked at her and a bit uncomfortably.

"The same way Emma did," he answered.

"No...no, that's impossible, because the wardrobe only took one," Snow insisted and David closed his eyes, realizing it before she was willing to accept it.

"They lied to you...it took two," he said.

"I...I could have gone with her?" she croaked and then looked back at her husband.

"We both could have...if we had gone before I went into labor," she realized.

"Never trust a fairy," Gold said.

"I need a drink…" Emma commented, as she sighed.

"So Blue and Geppetto lied to us…" David realized, letting that sink in for a moment.

"So what now?" Henry asked, as they heard a noise at the door. David put his hand up to silence them all, as he crept to the door and put his ear to it. He could hear someone breathing, like they were anxious or out of breath, and opened the door. Jefferson stumbled and fell onto the floor, but David helped him up by picking him up by the shirt.

"I was hoping you'd show up," he growled, as he grabbed him by the collar.

"She made me do it!" Jefferson pleaded.

"So you just do whatever Regina tells you?" David growled, as Snow put her hand on his arm.

"David…" she soothed, as he deflated a little and lightly shoved Jefferson away.

"She told me that if I helped her that I could have my daughter back!" he claimed.

"You know that Regina will never give you what you want. She'll betray you every time. The only way to get your daughter back is for the curse to break," Gold said.

"Tell that to her!" Jefferson hissed, as he pointed at Emma.

"At this rate, the curse will never be broken!" he ranted.

"All the evidence is right in front of her and she won't open her eyes! She doesn't even believe her own son...or her parents," Jefferson added, glaring at her.

"Some Savior," he grumbled.

"Hey…I didn't ask for any of this crap!" she retorted.

"We know you didn't...we never wanted any of this," Snow said, as she grabbed the book and turned to a particular page.

"This…" she said, as she handed the book to the blonde.

"This was supposed to be our life," Snow said tearfully, as she showed her the nursery, which was full of toys and a crib, with a unicorn mobile. The same unicorn mobile in Gold's shop.

"This is insane…" Emma lamented.

"See...she's never going to believe!" Jefferson said.

"Hey!" David hollered.

"Back off...it's a lot and no matter what, even if she doesn't believe it, she's our daughter and you're not going to talk to her like that!" David snapped, surprising Emma.

"And you're lucky that I haven't punched your lights out for kidnapping my wife," he added.

"I told you why I did it! For my daughter! We both have kids we'd do anything for! Don't you think we can find common ground in that?" Jefferson asked.

"Oh so now you want to work with us?" David questioned.

"Do I have much choice? It's either you or the Queen...though I'm starting to question if you really are the lesser of two evils," Jefferson retorted. David snorted.

"Well, keep pondering if you must, but I say we get home to Storybrooke and deal with her head on," he said.

"No need," a voice said coolly, as they all turned to find Regina standing in the doorway.

"Uh oh…" Henry said.

"Uh oh is right, young man," Regina said sternly.

"Emma didn't know I was in the car," Henry told her.

"But when she found out...she didn't turn around and bring you back," Regina accused.

"Excuse me, but I was a little busy looking for Mary Margaret, whom you had kidnapped by your goon!" Emma accused her back.

"Hey…I'm not a goon," Jefferson interjected, but he was ignored, as the two women glared daggers at each other. Regina smirked and then looked at Snow and David.

"If you two think I made your lives hell before...you haven't seen anything yet," she warned, as she looked at Emma.

"If you break my curse, Miss Swan, there will be a war unlike anything you've ever seen," she threatened.

"Mom please…" Henry pleaded.

"You are in enough trouble," she snapped to him.

"He's my son...I have legal custody and there will be no more visitation. I've been nice up until now...but that's over," Regina said. Emma snorted.

"Really? That was nice? Bring it and maybe you don't have as much leverage as you think," Emma argued.

"What is that supposed to mean?" she asked.

"She means me," Neal interjected, as he stepped forward.

"And you are?" she asked. He smirked.

"Henry's biological father...who didn't know about him," Neal replied.

"Who just happens to also be my son," Gold added, enjoying the look of disbelief and the tell tale sign of fear on her face.

"You're joking…" she refuted.

"Oh not at all, dearie. It seems that your little ploy in abducting...Mary Margaret has blown up in your face, spectacularly so," Gold goaded.

"It forced my hand early and led me to my son. Imagine my surprise when it became known that he and Snow and Charming's daughter had a child. The child which you adopted," he said.

"You...you knew…" she accused.

"Oh no...that was fate stepping in and since my son had no idea that Henry existed, he intends to fight for his right to custody or at the very least, visitation," Gold said.

"You can't do this…" Regina hissed.

"Oh we can...so you might want to rethink your little war you intend to wage," he warned. She glared back at him.

"We'll see who wins this war. The curse isn't breaking...not if you want peace," she said.

"Don't worry...your curse is fine or whatever," Emma said, as she looked at David and Mary Margaret.

"It's not like I believe it anyway," she said. Those words crushed them and Henry, as she stormed out.

"Henry...let's go," Regina snapped, as she left.

"Well...that will be an uncomfortable ride back," Gold said, as he looked at his son.

"Uh...give me a few minutes to pack and you two can ride back with me," Neal offered and the couple nodded.

"What about him?" David asked.

"He can ride back with me and Miss Swan, assuming he's ready to pick the right side, because make no mistake, Hatter...you've instigated a war," Gold stated.

"You know I hate her...and if these two are really ready to fight to break this stupid curse, then I'm in too. On your side," Jefferson replied.

"We're going to do whatever it takes to get our daughter to believe and get her back," David assured, as he threaded his fingers with Snow's.

"I hope you mean that...because things may get very ugly," Gold warned ominously, as they prepared to return to Storybrooke.

[celestines]

                have   you   seen   IRINA   MOON   around   campus   ?   i   hear   they’re   a   FOURTH   YEAR   ,   WINTER   witch   with   a   specialty   in   ENCHANTMENTS   .   i   almost   never   see   them   without   their   ERMINE   .   if   they   ever   want   to   be   a   ENCHANTER   someday   they   should   ease   up   on   being   SUPERCILIOUS   &   MANIPULATIVE   .   at   least   you   can   say   they’re   CAPTIVATING   &   SEDULOUS   ,    too   .

━  ˙ ˖  ☆     QUICK  STATS  !

full  name  :   irina   sophia   moon   .

nickname(s)  :   rina   ,   ice   princess   .    

zodiac  :   capricorn   sun   ,   scorpio   moon   (  click   !  )

sexuality  :   bisexual   .

alignment   :   lawful   neutral   .

pinterest   :   (   tba !   )  

━  ˙ ˖  ☆     BACKSTORY  !  

hailing   from   a   long   line   of   winter   witches   &   warlocks   ,    irina   was   born   into   a   family   that   seemed   to   fit   every   stereotype   of   their   coven   :   cold   ,    calculating   ,   and   striving   for   more   power   than   they   had   .   her   parents   were   well   off   ,   and   although   they   were   not    elite   ,   they   were   prominent   enough   to   exist   side   by   side   that   world   anyway   .   almost   important   ,    but    not   important   enough   .   almost   at   the   top   ,    but   not   quite   there   .   while   most   people   might   find   it   ridiculous   anyone   could   have   so   much   and   still   be   unsatisfied   ,   it   never   stopped   irina’s   parents   from   their   desperate   ambitions   .   

she   would   be   her   family’s   only   daughter   ,    as   well   as   the   last   born   moon   child   .   irina   was   aware   of   the   differences   in   how   she   was   being   raised   versus   the   way   her   brothers   were   being   raised   right   away   .   while   her   father   payed   close   attention   to   his   sons   ,    irina   was   cast   off   to   the   side   into   the   awaiting   embrace   of   her   mother   ,    but   she   wouldn’t   find   affection   there   either   .   for   her   brothers   ,    freedom   was   a   luxury   ,   and   while   they   were   raised   studious   it   was   obvious   to   irina   that   they   had   it   easier   than   her   .   when   they’d   come   home   late   and   tipsy   after   a   long   night   of   what   they   always   referred   to   as   “   networking   ”   (   which   a   young   irina   quickly   discovered   meant   partying   )   she’d   still   be   awake   at   the   dining   table   triple   checking   her   homework   .   

while   she   took   to   books   easy   ,    what   she   felt   challenged   by   were   the   lessons   her   mother   put   her   through   .   she   raised   irina   to   believe   a   woman   must   be   smart   and   worldly   ,   and   so   irina  learned   to   play   the   violin   .   her   mother   ,   who   always   had   a   certain   fascination   obsession   with   the   winter   high   warlock   ,   truly   believed   in   the   importance   of   upholding   tradition   .   she   was   willing   to   go   to   any   length   to   preserve   the   coven   ,   even   further   than   irina’s   own   father   would   ,   and   she’d    use   emotional   manipulation   to   get   her   there   .   while   the   woman   thought   her   sons   would   have   no   trouble   rising   the   ranks   ,   she   worried   about   irina   ,    often   pressuring   the   young   girl    to   be   wise   and   marry   well   .  

in   the   years   her   older   brothers   were   away   at   the   academy   of   arcane   arts   irina   would   learn   her    most   valuable   lesson   of   all   .   underneath   every   rule   and   tradition   there   is   hypocrisy   ,   and   nothing   is   ever   truly   what   it   appears   to   be   .   she’d   believed   in   her   parents   and   the   way   she’d   been   raised   ,   wholeheartedly   believed   and   endured   it   all   ,   never   questioning   them   once   until   the   night   she   catches   her   father   locking   lips   with   a   summer   witch   in   what   they   must   have   assumed   was   a   private   corner   of   a   high   profile   charity   event   .   she   never   spoke   a   word   about   it   to   anyone   ,   but   things   were   never   the   same   after   that   .   

every   time   her   parents   scoffed   at   the   other   covens   ,   she   thought   about   that   party   .    every   time   her   mother   tried   to   control   her   friendships   or   relationships   ,   she   thought   about   the   irony   of   her   father’s   infidelity   .   while   her   older   brothers   went   on   to   become   a   successful   duelist   and   council   officer   respectfully   ,   irina   was   counting   down   the   days   til   she   finally   got   to   escape   to   the   academy   .  her   life   so   far   had   been   reminiscent   of   a   porcelain   doll’s   ,   eighteen   years   trying   not   to   fall   right   off   the   highest   shelf   .   she’d   become   exactly   who   her   parent’s   needed   her   to   be   ,   something   irina   once   wanted   more   than   anything   in   the   whole   world   ,   but   all   she   felt   was   empty   .  

 when   she   arrived   at   arcane   as   a   freshman   ,   she   already   had   huge   footsteps   to   fill   .   her   brothers   ,   who   had   excelled   not   only   academically   but   also   socially   ,   had   achieved   just   about   everything   —   except   becoming   head   of   winter   house   .   one   of   them   came   close   their   3rd   year   making   it   as   prefect   ,   only   to   lose   head   of   house   the   next   year   .   irina   quickly   became   obsessed   with   the   idea   of   making   it   to   house   head   and   she   knew   it   would   take   more   than   being  smart   or   proficient   in   magic   to   get   her   there   ,    but   she   also   knew   if   anyone   could   do   it   it   was   her   .   she’d   been   raised   to   chase   powerful   positions   ,   to   study   ,   to   be   charming   ,   and   to   find   the   right   connections   .   like   most   in   the   winter   house   her   ability   to   read   people   was   something   she   had   mastered   ,   and ultimately   it’s   how   she   finally   got   her   wish   her   fourth  year   at   the   academy   when   she   got   the   house   leadership   position   .                                          

━  ˙ ˖  ☆     PERSONALITY  +  TIDBITS  !

in   true   capricorn   nature   ,   irina   is   very   ambitious   .   while   she   used   to   strive   to   be   the   best   at   everything   she   does   to   get   a   sliver   of   her   parent’s   approval   ,   she’s   recently   made   the   discovery   it’s   much   more   satisfying   for   her   to   work   hard   and   prove   to   herself   she   can   be   so   much   more   than   just   a   pawn   in   whatever   game   the   winter   coven   seems   to   be   playing   .   she’s   a   perfectionist   that’s   constantly   on   the   borderline   of   obsession   ,   which   means   while   she   has   high  standards   for   everyone   around  her   ,    the   most  unrealistic   expectations   are   the   ones   she   sets   for  herself   .   

she   is   ridiculously   charming   for   someone   who   ,   at   first   glance   ,   appears   to   be   icy   and   distant   .   pleasant   at   all   times   ,   but   especially   in   times   of   conflict   ,    which   is   exactly   what   makes   her   a   good   house   leader   .   has   the   uncanny   ability   to   read   people   disturbingly   well   ,   which   she   does   use   to   her   advantage   (   even   when   she   doesn’t   mean   to   </3   )   .   irina   has   a   habit   of   making   people   feel   important   when   she   talks   to   them   ,   like   there’s   not   a   single  person   in   the   world   she’d   rather   be   in   conversation   with   (   exactly   like   this   quote   )   .   plays   a   lot   on   the   ambition  and   the   ego   of   winter  witches   when   leading   the   house   and   the   shiny   promise  of   being   the   best   because   she's   never   known   anything   else   /:   surprisingly   though   ,   she’s   not   as   strict   as   the   other   house   heads   probably   believe   her   to   be   ,   something   only   winter   witches   and   warlocks   would   know   (   and   keep   to   themselves   if   they're   smart   )   .   

while   most   of   her   relationships   ,   per   request   of   her   mother   ,   are   more   business   transactions   than   they   are   anything   based   on   real   emotional   vulnerability   ,    irina   has   made   exceptions   .   even   with   people   she   should   only   care   about   because   of   status   she’s   finding   it   harder   and   harder   to   act   like   her   feelings   and   vulnerable   side   don’t   exist   .   she’s   terrified   to   share   those   parts   of   herself   with   just   anyone   ,   only   trusting   a   select   few    to   really   know   her   ,    the   rest   of   the   world   only   seeing   a   carefully   crafted   projection   of   herself   .   

honestly   ...   she’s   kinda   on   the   verge   of   losing   it   JSDBWJBDJW   very   nina   in   black   swan   there’s   plenty   of   female   histeria  to   go  around   !   but   she's   trying   her   best   to   hold   it   all   together   and   stay   responsible   while  coping   with   the   fact   that   her   entire   childhood   was   some   bullshit   and   with   the   fact   that   while   she   might   actually   have   zero   interest   in   upholding   traditions   spread   by   hypocritical   witches   and   warlocks   in   positions   of   power   ,    playing   the   game   all   the   way   to   the   top   is   the   only   way   she   sees  herself   ever   having   true   freedom   ):         

she’s   rarely   cruel   on   purpose   .   most   of   the   time   when   she   hurts   someone   it’s   because   they   became   collateral   while   she's   trying   to   achieve   a   certain   goal   .   definitely   wants   to   be   genuinely   nice   to   people   as   opposed   to   fake   politician   nice   ,   she   just   kinda   feels   like   a   fraud   doing   it   ,   like   it’s   impossible  for   her   to   actually   be   genuine   when   she’s   pretending   everyday   of   her   life   .

has   a   super   complicated   relationship   with   house   rivalries   since   she’s   questioning   everything   her   parents   taught   her   .   summer   house   makes   it   hard   for   her   to   change   her   opinions�� ,   however   ,   when   they’re   constantly   getting   on   her   nerves   even   if   they   don’t   mean   to   </3   generally   speaking   she’s   on   the   best   terms   and   at   her   friendliest   with   winter  and  autumn   house   ,    and   is   much   more   likely   to   trust   and   befriend   people   from   those   houses   ,    but   she   will   never   outright   discriminate   against   someone   from   spring   or   summer   house   (   unless   they’ve  earned   it   )   .  

she   specializes   in   enchantments   !   and   she’s   really   good   at   it   !   she’d   never   admit   it   ,   but   her   dream   job   isn’t  actually   being   an   enchanter   ,    but   a   professional   violinist   .   she’s   in   orchestra   club   as   a   coping  mechanism   for   the   fact   that   she’ll   never  have   her   dream   ):

her   familiar   is   an   ermine   named   jasper   ,   who   is   way   more   high  strung   than   irina   could   ever   dream   of   being   .   looks   very   cute   and   approachable   but   he   is   deadly   ...   winter   house   has   probably   learned   to   beware   when  he’s   roaming   the   halls   unless   irina   is   by   his   side   😔   

has   a   huge   phobia   of   being   in   love   ,   partly   because   she   was   raised   to   believe   it   didn’t   exist   ,   partly   because   she   wants   it   so   bad   she’s   afraid   of   what   will   happen   if   she   ever   gets   it   .   irina   also   avoids   real   relationships   in   general   and   often   uses   the   married   to   her   studies   excuse   to   avoid   getting   into   one   because   she   knows   her   parents   would   want   to   manipulate   it   /:   any   relationship   she   has   is   casual   OR   it’s   fake   and   she   will   100%   ruin   anything   that   seems   like   it’s   going   some   place  real   

has   a    wilder   side   she   saves   for   special   occasions   ,    like   more   important   parties   .   values   her   control   so   it’s   rare   to   see   irina   inebriated   ,   although   there   are   famous   (   albeit   few   )   tales   of   all   her   scandalous   actions   while   under   the   influence   .

she   just   really  needs   a   hug   🥺   maybe   a   lobotomy   too   if   she   ever   wants   to   be   happy   for  real   😳                 

━  ˙ ˖  ☆     WANTED  CONNECTIONS  !  (  all  open  to  all  genders  )

people   she’s   befriended   because   she   wants   something   from   them   !   maybe   it’s   status   ,   or   information   ,   or   something   else   entirely   .   maybe   they’re   using   her   at   the   same   time   ,   or   maybe   they   have   no   idea   .   i   think   it   would   also   be   interesting   to   have   a   friendship   that   started   out   as   fake   but   morphed   into   something   real   and  irina   feels   super   guilty   about   it   ):   

winter   witches   or   warlocks   who   get   in   trouble   a   lot   (   like   break   curfew   ,   etc   .   )    that   she   has   to   deal   with   .   maybe   she   ends   up   being   an   unintentional   mom   friend   to   them   ,   or   maybe   they   get   on   her   nerves   and   she   makes   sure   they   know   it   .   it   would   be   kinda   sexy   to   have   a   winter   witch   or   warlock   that   starts   breaking   rules   on   purpose   just   to   mess   with   irina   or   spend   time   with   her    

hookups  !   yes   ,   meaningless   (   unless   ?   )   sex   with   people   is   how   she   copes   with   all   the   stress   she’s   under    😔   .    i’d   love   some   past   hookups   that   ended   for   whatever   reason   (   like   maybe   one   of   them   or   both   of   them   was   starting   to   catch   feelings   so   irina   snuffed   it   out   like   a   candle   or   maybe   they   ended   it   )   ,   hookups   that   were   huge   mistakes   and   she’s   doing   her   best   to   forget   they   even   happened   (   mayhaps   with   a   summer   witch   or   warlock   )   ,   and   current   hookups   !    there’s   always   room   to   make   it   messy   ,    or   to   keep   it   fun   and   casual   🥺  

a   confidant   ,   someone   who   really   truly   knows   her   and   is   there   for   her   in   ways   most   people   could   never   be   ,   and   in   return   she’s   there   for   them   .    it   would   be   interesting   if   they   don’t   actually   hang   out   and   do   normal   friend   things   ,    so   it’s   a   little   weird   and   awkward   when   they   do   despite   knowing   so   much   about   each   other   .

a   summer   witch   or   wizard   who   could   be   the   child   of   the   summer   witch   her   father   is   having   an   affair   with   !    bonus   points   if   they   don’t   know   it    yet   so   there   can   be   future   drama   &   extra   bonus   points   if   somehow   them   and   irina   end   up   getting   along   despite   all   odds   only   to   have   whatever   blossoming   relationship   ruined   by   the   realization   ...      

younger   witches   or   warlocks   who   look   up   to   her   🥺   she   wants   to   be   an   inspiration   and   she   would   definitely   try   her   best   to   be   a   good   one   .  maybe   even   a   winter   witch   she’s   low   key   training   to   become   house   head   after   she   graduates   !

someone   to   bring   out   her   softer   side   &   show   her   that   it’s   better   for   her   not   to   keep   her   emotions   bottled   up   .   someone   who   inspires   her   to   be   better   and   more   selfless   even   though   she’s   not   selfish   on   purpose   /:   

an   enemy   or   two   !    people   who   actually   get   to   see   her   angry   side   and   her   dirty   not   poised   side   for   whatever   reason   .    

maybe   someone   irina   helps   to   be   more   confident   or   ambitious   .   since   she   was   raised   with   a   me   first   mentality   (   that   she’s   had   to   keep   in   check   as   head  of   winter   house   )    she’s   good   at   helping   people   who  constantly   put   other   people’s   wants   and   needs   before   their   own   . 

perhaps   some   childhood   or   family   friends   that   would   know   irina’s   family   kinda   sucks   ):    maybe   they   were   close   as   kids   and   drifted   apart   as   they   grew   up   ,    but   it’s   weird   and   kinda   sad   because   they   still   know   a   lot   about   each   other   !

a   bad   influence   😈    whether   or   not   they’re   trying   to   get   irina   to   loosen   up   with   malicious   or   not   malicious   intentions   ,    they’re   the   only   one   capable   of   melting   down   her   walls   bit   by   bit   ,   quicker   the   more   she   internalizes   all   her   struggles   .   someone   she   has   real   fun   with   who   puts   a   stop   to   all   her   overthinking   and   gets   her   to   live   in   the  moment   !           

THIS   ONE   IS   EVEN   LONGER   IM   SO   SORRY   😭😭😭   i  have   rambling   bitch   disease   and   it’s   fatal   !    once   again   if   u   wanna   plot   u   can   find   me  on   discord  @ glo lovecore ʕ´• ᴥ•̥`ʔ#8172   but   if   discord   isn’t   ur   thing   we   can   100%   plot   through   im’s   ,   i’m   just   gonna   be   slower   to   respond   through   tumblr   i   won’t   lie   🥺   give   this   a   like   and   i’ll   message   u   (   or   u   can   message   me   first   hehe   )   and   tysm   for   reading   this   novel   of   an   intro  ...     

[charmingturkeysandwich]

I Could Use a Love Song Ch. 3: don’t need no reason or happy hour

Chapter 3 of my Country Singer!Emma AU is here. I added a tag on AO3 for alcohol abuse, because while I don’t think we have true alcoholism here... Emma’s coping mechanisms are shit and the heavy drinking isn’t the healthiest. I wanted to make sure that I added that warning here as well. Please don’t use alcohol like Emma does here. I know from experience it’s hella bad news. Find a therapist! This is actual advice, not a joke. For reals. Emma should have just gone to a counselor instead of making appointments with Jose Cuervo and Jack Daniels. If anyone has treated you the way this iteration of Neal treated Emma, talk to someone. If you can’t afford a therapist, talk to me. Seriously, no lie, no joke, I’m only alive today because I eventually adopted a dog and sought counseling to cope with life’s many traumas.

Mmmmkkay enough babbling. 

Also on AO3

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Their next few gigs were some of the best in Emma’s (admittedly tequila-hazed) memory, and for once that glimmer of hope for that future of fame and fortune… well, it felt like a hell of a lot more than a glimmer.

The crowds had been rowdy, raucous, and ready to sing along to every song on their whole set. A few people even more some of the merch Killian had started selling at the door, nothing fancy of course, but it made her heart burst with pride nonetheless.

It had all gotten so real, so achievable, so close to everything she’s been dreaming about before she ever really knew that dreams were a thing that could come true.

So of course something was about to bring back the quasi-comfort of her life always reverting to being a waking nightmare.

That was a deeply melodramatic way of putting it – it’s not like she was being beaten or shamed or any of the daily torments her tiny town had ensured were burned into her brain. But that was the problem with the past, wasn’t it? It wasn’t over, even when it was. Those days were past but they would always somehow be present, replaying in her brain and aching in her heart no matter how far from Pennsylvania their little van puttered.

(Whoever said you can’t go home again neglected to mention how hard it was to leave it, even after you’d physically gone.)

It had been a Tuesday. In some chain grocery store outside Virginia Beach, the sun glowing through the big front windows and the icy chill of the air conditioning raising goosebumps on her bare arms. Emma had only echoes of a hangover, so Ruby’s constantly chatting wasn’t nearly as grating as it could be. They moved slowly through the aisles, tossing various food and supplies in their cart, more than fulfilling the list Graham and Mary Margaret had given them.

They were still struggling artists but some weeks the struggle was… less. This was one of them and if they decided to celebrate with Patron instead of Jose Cuervo and fresh, organic honeycrisp apples instead of Great Value brand dried apple chips, well, it’s because they damn well deserved it.

They couldn’t have been more than a few feet away from the checkout when the radio (a constant calming presence, most days, being the object of their ambition and all) caused her heart to drop to the deepest pits of her gut, twisting her insides until she was nearly dry-heaving to get the gross sensation of feelings out of her body and in the sewer system where it belonged.

They say scent is tied to memory, and it surely is, but there’s something, too, in sound. Music had a distinct way of tying itself to a moment, to a feeling. For some people that feeling was joy, was love, could be better than the best drug to intoxicate them with no risk of hangover. But for Emma, for this song in particular, it was all hangover, no high.

I’m set on cruise control

I’m slowly losing hold of everything I got

You’re looking so damn hot

The lyrics were innocuous enough. Sweet. Loving. There was certainly some couple out there – many, probably – who smiled fondly at each other when it came on. But for her, it was just a reminder of how pathetic she’d been, once upon a time, how deeply manipulated she’d been. And oh, the consequences she’d suffered for falling for a sweet voice and a pretty face and a moment that had felt like a country song.

And I don’t know what road we’re on

Or where we’ve been, from starin at you, girl

All I know is I don’t want this night to end

It had been a song she’d listened to in Neal’s truck, on a back road, the moon high and the stars bright and her heart hammering in her chest before he leaned over the center counsel parked in his daddy’s field and kissed her like she was precious, like she was, like he could love her through this life and the next.

And even today, half-hungover in a Piggly Wiggly or whatever the fuck this place was, she still felt the whisper of butterflies in her. She still remembered how much she’d believed the lies and even hoped the bad stuff wasn’t actually real, holding on to nights like that first one, her and Neal seemingly the only two people on Earth and all she’d ever need to feel whole again.

Emma Swan was a fighter, a survivor, a strong, badass woman that no man would ever hurt again.

But one Luke Bryan song on a clear Tuesday afternoon had her so torn up in shame, she almost forgot her best friend was standing beside her, her little “family” of a band and crew waiting for her back at the block of hotel rooms down the road.

She wasn’t in Pennsylvania. Neal wasn’t anywhere near her. But she could practically smell his cologne and the exhaust of his truck and the fact that there was a tiny part of her that truly still wished it had all worked out, that he’d been the happily ever after she’d wanted, and she wanted to slap herself silly for how stupid one smart girl could be.

“I think we can afford some Reese’s mix, right?” Ruby asked, already tossing two bags in the cart as they entered the self-checkout line.

“Yeah,” was all Emma could respond, her traitor brain still wavering between wishing for an alternate ending to her stupid, sad tale and coming totally clean to Ruby about what horrors she’d suffered and hitting the road with her on a revenge-fueled quest to keep that fucker from ever hurting another sweet, could-be-innocent girl ever again.

“Emma, you with me?” Ruby’s voice was hesitant, her eyes wide as she took in Emma’s likely ghost-pale complexion and battle-ready stance.

(She was always fighting those internal ghosts and damn could those things travel.)

But she didn’t want to think about Neal or the bruises long-healed or how she wishes she could time travel back and prevent the most painful part of what that monster had done to her, the part where for a pretty little minute she truly thought she’d loved him.

No. The past might be doing its damnedest to creep into today but she was not going to let it.

Fuck you, Luke Bryan, and all your pelvic sorcery.

“God, I hate this song,” Emma finally croaked out. “I think we should celebrate today.”

“Celebrate how much you hate a song that I’m fairly sure David would kill you for hating?”

“No, Rubes. Celebrate this,” Emma motioned all around them, somewhat erratically, only serving to further confuse Ruby. At least for a moment. “We’re really getting somewhere, aren’t we? I mean, three hotel rooms. That’s, like, a record. We’re getting somewhere. You and I, we came from some shit, right? And now we’re headed toward something good and I think we should celebrate.”

“And how exactly do you propose we celebrate this? Because if it’s by having a four-way with Graham and Killian I’m absolutely in, with just a couple ground rules – “

Emma cut off her teasing before her brain had enough time to make any visuals of that: “Ew. God, no. Why does your brain even go there? No. I just meant, you know, hitting some bars or the beach or something. Day drinking. It’s the ultimate in enjoyment and not giving a fuck.”

“So you’re suggesting we celebrate the good the same way we drown our sorrows in the bad?” Ruby mocked, tossing the groceries on the conveyor belt and a packet of mints at Emma’s head.

“No, you drink your sorrows in the dark. You drink your celebrations when the sun’s out,” Emma said like it was the most normal, accepted thing in the world, like she was reciting it from a code of conduct instead of having made it up on the spot to cover for the fact that she very much, one hundred percent was drowning her sorrows but just didn’t have the patience to wait for the sun to set.

“Sure, Ems. Let’s go with that.” Ruby clearly wasn’t buying her bullshit – she always did have an excellent bullshit detector – but she went along with it all the same.

Emma paid for the groceries and hefted as many bags to the car as she could possibly carry, the burn in her arms like the warmth of the sun as she flip-flopped her way to the awaiting van, a great day of drinking and forgettingahead of her.

The usual six of them turned into seven that day, Killian’s old buddy from the service having been stationed at the naval base in Norfolk and here for a visit. Will, that was his name, and he was a pain in the ass in the very best way. He had been matching her shot-for-shot in the hotel room before they hopped the Uber to The Cove, a beachside bar favored by locals and tourists alike. He would tease her and taunt her and buy her drinks, but with absolutely the energy of a brother and not a I’m looking to get into your pants kind of way.

David saw her as a sister, sure, but he tended toward the serious, the protective. He cared so much and knew too much, and it kept him from being totally lighthearted or even downright rude. And Graham, well he never paid Emma quite that much attention, always on his own quests and whatnot. She couldn’t blame the guy, and truly she didn’t usually want attention, but there was something about today, something about the casual nature of her exchanges with Will that allowed her to just be free.

Killian wasn’t quite on board, though. Ever since she and Ruby had floated the idea of some casual no-show-tonight fun, he’d been weirdly quiet. Mary Margaret and David were notably excited, seeming to view it as an opportunity for date night, even with the five other tagalongs. And Ruby was pretty much always up for a party.

But Killian seemed to be cranky at her and she couldn’t figure out why.

“Let loose, why don’t you, Jones!” Emma shouted across the bar, Killian nursing a rum and coke while Ruby, Will, and Emma had joined another group of probable-tourists in a limbo competition.

“Eh, let him sulk,” Will had suggested, stumbling a little after returning to the upright position. He was suspiciously good at the limbo. Maybe he’d been a gymnast in another life?

“I’ll get him, Em,” Ruby promised, having fallen flat on her ass after the last round (the responding ooooohhhhhhshaving more to do with her skirt riding up to her waist as she fell than it was about the fall itself).

Ruby had spent the next hour or so in the corner with Killian, both steadily drinking but never really coming to re-join the party. So Emma and Will kept socializing with strangers while Graham flirted hard with a pretty girl and Mary Margaret and David found another grossly into each other couple to apparently double date with, because of course they did.

After a few drinking games, a few messy dances, and definitely too much liquor for before 5pm, Emma finally took a break, she and Will sidling up to the bar and ordering some nachos.

“Y’know, you’re not nearly as pretty as Killian described you,” Will said after a few minutes of nacho-focused silence.

“Hey! I think you’re insulting me and I don’t appreciate it,” Emma responded, cheese dripping down the corner of her mouth.

“Way he talks, you’d think you were a bleeding fallen angel or something. I definitely didn’t expect a hot mess who talked with her mouth full.”

“Hah! You said hot. I still got it,” she joked, chomping down on another cheese and chili covered chip.

Emma had become pretty good at reading people – people tended to adapt after you suffering the consequences of falling for it – and Will definitely wasn’t flirting with her. At least not with actual intent. So why on earth had he brought up her looks?

She was happy to play along with whatever game he had going, was even feeling a little bolder and more confident than usual with his carefree attitude and his backward compliments.

But his next comment was the proverbial bucket of ice on any of those feelings.

“He’s a good man, Emma. I hope you don’t toy with him.”

“Excuse me?” What exactly was this fucker accusing her of? She hadn’t even talked to Killian since they’d been at the hotel and she certainly hadn’t been mean. No, even at her most prickly, she was never all-out mean to him. He was a good guy, the type to hold your hair when you puked and nearly the opposite of her initial assumptions about him. Of course she’d never ‘toy with him.’ The fucking nerve of this dude.

“I don’t think you know me enough to continue those thoughts, Scarlet,” she warned, shoving the nachos away and downing her fruity drink.

“Don’t get me wrong. I like you, Emma. You’d make a good mate. But I’m more like you than you realize, and I know how many people I hurt before I got myself straight. Just … keep that in mind, won’t ya?”

And then the bastard just… left.

He didn’t say goodbye to anyone – not even to Killian – and left Emma pissed as all hell and sitting alone at a tourist trap in the worst city in all of Virginia.

So much for that attempt at celebration.

But before her thoughts (and actions) could turn to the dark side, Graham and David were approaching her for a friendly tournament of darts and after a couple bulls eyes and a little light taunting, her carefree spirit had returned, just in time to kick Mary Margaret’s ass and move onto the championship game between her and Killian.

“So, that friend of yours is something,” Emma observed, tossing her first set of darts and landing them with soft thunks into the felt.

“Will? Aye. He’s… he’s been a friend for quite a long time. There for me for some pain. So I choose to keep his pain-in-the-ass existence around.” His tone was light and his words sincere, but there was a weight to his expression that Emma didn’t quite understand.

He took his turn, little glints in his eye and mini-fist pumps when he hit his intended target. It was adorable, to be honest. But there was definitely something wrong and despite Will’s seeming accusations about her and her abilities to be a good friend, she wanted nothing more than to take away whatever pain he was reliving at the moment.

So she lost – yes, intentionally – and dragged him to the bar, ordering him some straight whiskey to loosen him up and hopefully to help him forget like she already was.

“Why, Swan, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to get me drunk,” he practically purred, breaking the flirty tone with a gentle boop to her nose. “Which is usually my tactic.”

“Easy, Captain,” she joked with him, fiddling with the prosthetic ‘hook’ contraption he wore when they went out (it’s a perfect beer holder, he’d said, to which she’d responded yeah, right, you just want to play pirate).

Despite the fog of the liquor, a few facts clicked into place. He’d suffered some bad shit in his past, shit Will apparently witnessed. Killian had also lost his hand, probably in the Navy. And this town, it wasn’t far from a navy base. Could that have been his navy base? Had they inadvertently brought Killian to the scene of the crime, so to speak?

The way she never wanted to go back to her ‘hometown,’ the place she’d lived the longest and suffered the most… what if that’s how he felt here? What if she’d suggested they celebrate over the grave of whatever and whoever he lost?

God, she was a hot mess and she was dangerous, the way she sank into her pain without looking into anyone else’s.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she wanted to apologize. Or something. “I’m sorry about this. Or, I guess, about whatever led to this. Or accompanied it. I’m just… I’m just sorry?”

“For the ungodly amount of liquor you’re pressuring me into drinking? Don’t worry, love, I’m a big boy.”

Ugh, the deflection. She knew that tactic well. “No, I mean this,” she said, gripping the elbow of his damaged arm. “I don’t know what happened and I’m not asking, but I just want you to know that I’m sorry. Not in the fault kind of way. Just the way where I wish it hadn’t happened and I know there’s pain and you didn’t deserve it. Or don’t. Currently. You know what I mean.”

“I think you’re drunk off your ass, darling.”

“Call me darling one more time and you’ll be the one on your ass.”

“So defensive, jeez,” he quipped, finishing another drink and slamming the glass back down on the table, his face melting into something a little more serious, if only for a moment. “Thank you, Swan,” he said finally, cupping her cheek with his right hand.

Her heart about stopped as his eyes bored into hers. It was much too much, the closeness, the feel of his hand, the heat of his body, the truth in his eyes, and all she wanted was to go back to teasing and laughing and strangers who didn’t have feelings or at least didn’t share them with her and why did she even bring it up, anyway? Just because Will had made her feel bad? Why shouldn’t they drink away their pain if it quieted the demons for one blessed day? Why should we have to suffer the same memories over and over when instead we could just fucking let go.

She should have just stuck to letting go.

But his intense sincerity washed away in a blink, his flirty near-pirate persona back with a vengeance. “Now, Swan, what game shall I best you at next?” His gentle caress on her cheek turned into a full grip, his fingers scrunching her face almost comically.

“Name it, Jones. You’re on.”

Turns out their little crew had signed them all up for a cornhole tournament out on the sand and Graham had called dibs on Emma as a partner, for which she was thankful. He was pretty boss at all bar games, and she had a competitive streak even without her BAC being higher than her high school GPA.

But get her drunk and she’d pretty much lie, cheat, and steal her way to bragging rights on whatever silly game they were playing.

So of course she and Graham had made it to the finals, their opponents two bikini-clad college girls who could trash talk like no other.

Which is why Emma was totally fine with the little plot she had brewing in her head.

“Graham, we need distractions here.”

“What do you mean, like have Mary Margaret set something on fire again?”

“Oh, come on. Pretty girls. Fun, happy, drunk, pretty girls. I saw them ogling you earlier so they’re probably straight. Take your shirt off. Now!”

“I always said I’d reject your advances when you inevitably tried to get me naked, Swan, but you drive a hard bargain.”

Emma rolled her eyes, but Graham did as instructed, stretching lazily and pantomiming sweat before pulling at the neck of his t-shirt and whisking it over his head.

The girls missed their next shots, and Graham had the chance to win it with this last toss and Emma was ready to bust out her victory dance just a tad prematurely.

Until the brunette untied her bikini top and let the fabric fall to her waist just as Graham was taking his shot.

He missed, of course.

Damn, these girls were good.

“Can I be of assistance?” a husky voice offered, his breath ticking her ear lobe.

Killian, of course.

“What exactly can you offer, Jones?” Graham swooped in to ask, clearly annoyed that his bare chest hadn’t yet won them the game.

“Well, Graham, Emma here assures me that you’re one ‘fine specimen of man’ but sadly to those girls you’re all talk and no action, across the beach from them, separated by this very game. I think they need something a little more… tactile.”

Killian was over-confident when he was drinking, but it’s not as if he were wrong. If she were one of those girls and Killian came up to her, with his sultry accent and his maddening smirk and the way he’d run his fingers through her long hair…

Yeah, it would work. Definitely. Yup.

“Go for it, Jones, but don’t come crying to us if they don’t take to your charms the way you want them to,” Emma warned, rolling her eyes and banishing all inappropriate thoughts of Killian Jones to the dark recesses of her mind with her knowledge of calculus and the memory of that time she walked in on Mary Margaret sucking David off in their shared kitchen back in Pittsburgh.

Killians voice alone proved distracting enough for the blonde girl to miss her shot and Graham, his ego now challenged, sank his with ease.

Emma cheered far too loud and leaped into Graham’s arms, her legs around his waist, Ruby rushing up to high five them and pass along a few more shots to keep the day rolling.

By the time the sun sank behind the bar, the ocean in front of them streaked with the deep blues and purples of twilight, Emma was well past drunk and definitely no longer thinking of any painful backstories or traumas or anything, really, but the cinnamon burn of the Fireball and the feel of Killian’s arm around her as they walked down a set of stairs to a fire pit so much like those that she’d built on the banks of the Allegheny and yet so different, the smell of the salt of the ocean and the leather of Killian’s jacket keeping her brain from connecting the present to the past.

“Jones, haven’t you ever heard you’re supposed to keep your hands to yourself in the presence of a lady?” she teased, wiggling her shoulders where he was grasping her.

“Aye, but I see no ladies here!” He chuckled and she elbowed him and he bowed his head to her ear as they stepped down the last stair. “Besides, love, what if you’d fallen and no one was there to save you?”

She rolled her eyes again, shrugging off his support now that there was no excuse for it, solid ground beneath their feet. “Oh, I’m a loud screamer. Someone would have come for me.”

“Oh, how I’d like to experience both of those things for myself…” Killian groaned, his mind of course solidly in the gutter.

Emma just laughed it off and stumbled toward the fire, joining Mary Margaret and David on a log clearly only meant for two.

Tomorrow was going to be hell, definitely more than just the echo of a hangover. But they had hotel rooms and each other and now and really those things alone made every minute of tomorrow’s inevitable headache more worth it than she could ever have fathomed in any stage of her life before this one.

[wistfulcynic]

Three Non-Blondes, 2 / 4

My silly two-shot has become a silly three shot. It’s so silly. Though it does get a little sad. Then ends on a very silly note. 

Summary: Mary Margaret is certain that her fiancé’s sister Emma and his best friend Killian are perfect for each other. What she doesn’t know is that they think so too. Matchmaking hijinks ensue.

Rating: T

AO3

Killian Jones knew he would never forget the day he’d met Emma Swan. It was a fixed point in his timeline, eternal and unchanging, the thing around which all else in his life revolved. 

He’d only been living in Boston for a month or so when he met her brother David through their mutual friend and his fellow expat Robin. He and Dave had hit it off immediately despite their very different personalities, and with the addition of Killian the casual duo of David and Robin had morphed into a tight threesome. 

Er… a close trio of friends. Yeah, that sounded better.  

Fast forward to several months later and a night out at their local and Killian walking through the door with a swagger and a smile for the bartender because it was Ruby tending bar that night and stopping dead in his tracks, oblivious to Ruby and to Robin waving him over and to the three-person pile-up behind him because he suddenly knew what being struck by lightning felt like.

Okay, that was hyperbole. He was certain being struck by lightning was nothing near as pleasant as seeing Emma for the first time had been. She took his breath away with her hair that seemed lit by sunlight even though it was dark outside and the lithe strength in her bare arms and and the cheeky grin she’d flashed at David just before she made an impossible bank shot and beat his arse at pool. Killian didn’t think he’d ever before laid eyes on a woman so bloody perfect. 

But then David had introduced them and he had smiled at her, and abruptly all the light had gone out of Emma Swan, and she had frozen out all his attempts at conversation and got away from him as soon as she could, and the next time he saw her she was smiling at Graham —poor lovesick bastard— and through his hurt and disappointment Killian had vowed that he would not be another Poor Graham. 

So he had flirted with Ruby and with Mary Margaret and even with Regina —that had been bloody terrifying— and he had not let Emma or anyone else see how much she’d gotten to him. 

And even though he loved his new friends he’d begun to leave their gatherings early if Emma was in attendance, drinking just enough to make himself not care that he was leaving with the wrong woman, letting them all think he was a dog and a player, and he supposed he was, by purely objective standards. At what point did the cover get so deep that it became reality?  

And sometimes, on rare occasions, he drank enough to drown the hurt he felt at Emma’s very evident disdain, and David or Robin or Ruby or sometimes even Poor bloody Graham would have to carry him home, and it was all Killian could do on those nights to bite his tongue and not let spill the real reason for his behaviour.

She had no right to judge him, he wanted to protest, to someone, anyone who would listen. She barely knew him. She hadn’t taken the trouble to know him, just given him one glance and written him off. 

He knew her, though. It wasn’t hard to get David to talk about the little sister he was so proud of and Killian had shamelessly nudged and urged and dropped casual questions into enough conversations that after a year or so he felt he knew Emma as well as anyone despite their having only exchanged a handful of words, most of them vaguely hostile. 

He knew that she was tough and smart and independent, and a bit prickly at times but a deeply loyal friend. And he knew that sometime over the course of the year his initial fascination had deepened into something else, and he was beginning to worry that she had ruined him for all other women when he had never even touched her. Not so much as a brush of arms as they stood at the crowded bar. She hadn’t even shaken his hand. 

Until one evening six months ago when David was working late on a case and Mary Margaret had thirty tests to grade and Robin and Regina were away for the weekend and it was Ruby’s night off. Killian had gone to the pub in his old neighbourhood just to get out of his new house and maybe chase his errant muse, and when he’d caught sight of Emma across the room he tipped his glass in toast to her then turned his back. The last thing he needed in his current mood was to watch her flirting with someone else. 

He’d sipped in quiet contemplation until a flash of gold shone in his peripheral vision and when he turned his head she was there, determination and challenge and a hint of fear in her eyes. 

“Why don’t you like me?”

He had not expected that. “I don’t not like you.”

“You never talk to me.” 

He almost laughed. “What I think you’ll find, Swan, is that you never talk to me.”

“You didn’t talk first.” Something in her tone hinted that she was trying to be flirtatious and suddenly he was furious. 

“I did talk to you, if you recall, the night we met,” he said, turning to face her fully and leaning in just close enough to crowd her personal space. “Or rather I tried to before I started to get fucking frostbite from your lack of response. Not talking to you since then was simply acceding to your evident desire not to be in my company because despite what you think I am a goddamn gentleman.”

“Wow,” she said. “You really do have a thing with words.” 

Killian slammed his glass on the bar and stood up. “I don’t need this tonight,” he growled and headed for the door, ignoring the “Killian, wait!” he could vaguely hear behind him.  

He was through the doors and several long strides down the sidewalk when she caught up to him. “Wait,” she cried, the light touch of her hand on his arm burning him through the thin fabric of his shirt. “I’m sorry.” 

Anger and frustration were still seething in him and he spun around on her, pulling his arm from her grasp. “Sorry for what, Swan? For freezing me out then accusing me of not liking you? For judging me and finding me wanting before we’d even exchanged hellos? For having the audacity to call me out for not forcing my company on you when you so clearly don’t want it? Which of those things are you sorry for?”

She opened her mouth but no words came out, and he made an impatient motion with his hand. “It doesn’t matter because I do not accept your apology. Good night.” He spun on his heel and began to walk again. 

“All of it.” 

The quavering vulnerability in her voice threatened to break his heart. He turned. 

“What?”

“I’m sorry for all of those things, actually, except the last one because that was just me trying to fix things with you but I didn’t know if it was too late, and for some reason I thought I’d try flirting but obviously that didn’t work, and oh, God, I’m just so fucking bad at this.” 

Her distress was real, and it softened the sharp edges of his anger. “Bad at what, love?”

“At connecting with people. You’re right, I was cold to you and I pushed you away, and I’m sorry for it. I was scared.” 

“Scared of what?” he asked, taking a small step forward. 

“Of how much I liked you,” she replied, stepping forward herself though she couldn’t meet his eyes. “Or of liking you in the wrong way, or… oh, I don’t know just call it general fear of getting close to someone.” 

“But you’re close to a number of people.” Another step. 

“It’s not the same. They don’t—” Step. Hesitant glance at his face. 

Step. Slight lean forward. “They don’t what, Emma?”

Step, closing the remaining distance between them. “They don’t make me feel like you do,” she whispered.  

They were close enough now that he could count her freckles. Killian wasn’t sure he was breathing. “And just how do I make you feel?” he croaked. 

“Like…” She finally met his eyes, and what he saw in hers made his heart soar. “Like I want to just grab you and—” and then she was surging up on her toes and her mouth was on his and his hands were in her hair and he was kissing Emma Swan in the middle of the sidewalk in front of a bar, feeling like lightning had struck twice, despite what they say. 

Then they were kissing in the back of a very smelly cab and then in his bed, and when he woke up the next morning with her head on his chest and stray strands of her hair in his mouth he knew he was fucked in at least three senses of the word. 

—

Since then he and Emma had been very careful not to be seen by their friends in each other’s company. Their friends were a pushy lot, well-meaning but overbearing, and Killian did not want them ruining the frail spring bud of his and Emma’s romance by trying to force it to blossom too fast and too soon. Emma was wary of commitment, and if he was honest so was he, and so they agreed to keep things secret until they knew what they had together. 

Which, unfortunately, meant staying away from each other in public. Killian was afraid that their friends would take one look at the looks on their faces when they looked at each other and know that they were sleeping together. He was fairly certain that whenever he looked at Emma his face still wore the same dumb, adoring grin that she’d teased him about that first morning they’d woken up together. He had just been so stupidly happy that she hadn’t snuck away in the middle of the night as he’d half expected her to that he hadn’t cared what his face looked like, and six months later Emma still teased him about it. He didn’t care about that either. The fact that she felt comfortable enough to tease him and knew him well enough to do so was a source of boundless joy to him. 

He was just so helplessly in love with her, and he was beginning to allow himself to hope that she might feel the same. 

But he still didn't trust their friends not to ruin everything. 

—

Killian was floating in the hazy state of being somewhere between asleep and awake, absently running his fingers through Emma’s hair and simply enjoying having her in his arms, her skin pressed against his and her breath soft on his neck, punctuated with a little snore that he found adorable, when from the bedside table his phone began to buzz. Hastily he grabbed for it before the insistent noise woke Emma. She did not enjoy being woken early. 

“H’lo?” he muttered into the device.  

“Killian!” It was David, using that forced jovial voice he got when he was doing something under duress. “Are you still asleep? I thought you had to get up early?” 

“Aye, just about to get up now. I, uh, still have some time to make my deadline.” 

“Your editor’s a real hard-ass, huh, giving you a deadline on a Sunday.” 

“Aye, she’s a mean one.” Killian tried to keep his voice down, but despite his efforts Emma had begun to stir. She blinked sleepily then buried her face in his shoulder with a groan. “Ugh, what time is it?” she said. 

“What was that?” asked David. “Do you have someone there?”

Killian thought fast. Emma’s voice had likely been sufficiently muffled by his shoulder that David wouldn’t recognise it, if he could just play this off…

“Aye, mate, I ran into an old friend after I left the pub, and, well, she’s not left yet.” 

“Uh huh,” said David, and Killian frowned. He could swear he heard guilt in his friend’s voice. “Well, look, I won’t keep you from your, um, friend, but I’m just calling because my mom is insisting that you come to dinner tonight.” 

Emma’s face was still in Killian’s shoulder but her hand was slowly sliding down his abs and he swallowed a moan. “Mate, I’m not sure—” 

“Insisting, Killian.” The guilt in David’s voice had turned to desperation but it barely registered on Killian as Emma’s hand closed around him. “You know you can’t refuse her when she insists.” 

“Aye,” Killian at this point just wanted him off the phone. “Very well, I’ll be there.”

“Oh, thank God. I mean, see you there.” David hung up and Killian tossed his phone aside, growling as he rolled Emma onto her back and attacked her neck with kisses, all thoughts of the dinner at Ruth’s momentarily forgotten. 

—

David placed his phone down on the kitchen counter in front of him, and rubbed his temples. “So let me just be absolutely certain I understand this. Your plan is to matchmake them to each other by matchmaking them to other people?”

 “Oh David try to keep up,” said Mary Margaret from the dining table, where she was actually making a chart. “The aim of matchmaking is usually just to introduce people you think would be into each other. But Emma and Killian are already into each other, so obviously they don’t need that. What they need is a kick up the backside to get them to admit they’re into each other.”

“And you think pretending to hook them up with other people will accomplish that?”

“Yep. If for no other reason than that it’ll be reeeeeally annoying for them.” 

“What’s that supposed to accomplish?”

“Reverse psychology,” said Mary Margaret, tapping the side of her nose. “If we obviously try to push them together they’ll just fight us, but if we push them towards other people, they’ll both be like ‘Hell no, hands off my bae.’” 

“I can’t believe you just said ‘bae.’” 

“It was appropriate to the context. Now hand me my phone, please, I’m gonna call Belle.” 

David groaned. “I feel like I’ve just invited my best friend into a lion’s den.” 

“That’s because you have, sweetie.” 

[chaossmagic]

16 and Robron for the mini fic please!!

Home Farm Week angst, fluff, and hurt/comfort all in one! 

Also, I’m pretty sure this is far too long to be a mini fic, but I don’t care because it satisfies one of my main headcanons/unanswered questions about their relationship’s development.

Tagging @sugden-dinglefirst because she’s my #1 cheerleader in my fanfic ventures.

Lying on cool, cotton sheets, completely naked with Robert pressed flush against his back, Aaron fought sleep though his eyes burned as he tried to savour the feel of the man next to him. His skin was slightly sticky with sweat, his breath tickling the back of Aaron’s neck, one bare leg slung over his hip and the other lying across his stomach, cocooning him like a warm, living blanket.

They’d been lying there for hours, spent and exhausted, and yet Aaron didn’t want to go to sleep just yet.  He wanted to keep this memory, as well as all the others, alive in his mind just a little longer. He wanted to remember this, the simple thing of lying in bed with someone with their arms around you, to try and imagine just this once what it might be like if things were different.

If this were his - their - bed.

If Robert were Aaron’s husband instead of Chrissie’s.

Just thinking the words made him feel sick to his stomach; he wasn’t Aaron’s. He belonged to someone else.

But it didn’t stop him from settling further into Robert’s arms, listening to the sound of his slow, rasping breaths, feeling the the curl of his toes against the back of his calf and waiting, every so often, for the barely-audible snore he gave, which made Aaron bite his lip to stop himself from sniggering.

Robert Sugden snored. That was both bloody brilliant and downright infuriating, especially when he was just about to fall asleep, only to be interrupted by a snort-grunt coming from behind him.

Rolling onto his opposite side, Aaron turned in Robert’s arms to face him directly, wanting to watch his face as he slept. There was something about him that changed when he was asleep, Aaron had noticed. Gone was the hard, cocky attitude and ‘rebel without a cause’ exterior, and in its place there was something….soft about him. Gentle. With the smirk gone from his lips and his nose no longer in the air in a ‘holier than thou’ way the way it usually was, with him swanning around the village in a battered - though, probably, knowing him, very very expensive - leather jacket thinking he was James bloody Dean, Robert was different. Aaron liked him more like this, when he wasn’t trying so hard to pretend to everyone that he was someone he wasn’t. Like this, he wasn’t Robert Sugden, Village Arsehole, but just Robert.

In the dim light of the room, a thin strip of moonlight coming through the curtains was just enough for Aaron to make out the smattering of freckles on Robert’s cheeks, and he found himself tracing them with his eyes, the way they decorated his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose in that God forsaken way that Aaron found endearing. Made him look less like a cocky bastard and more of an actual human being with feelings.

Without really thinking about it, Aaron raised the tip of his finger to Robert’s cheek and stroked the path of the freckles there, feather-light and soft lest he wake him up. He stirred, but remained asleep. His skin was soft under the rough pads of Aaron’s fingers from years of hard work as a mechanic, and he felt the warmth there spreading through his whole body, lighting him up from the inside.

Gently, as softly as he could, he leaned forward to press a kiss to the tip of Robert’s nose; he let his eyes flutter closed as he took in this simple moment, this tiny gesture of domestic bliss that they rarely ever let themselves feel. They were so often hurried and rushed, always sending last-minute texts and speaking with using words over the vast space of a packed pub, but now they had time, and Aaron wasn’t looking to waste any of it.

Robert shifted next to him, his eyes slowly blinking open, stretching out slightly as he woke from sleep. His lips quirked into a teasing smile. “You going soft on me, Dingle?” he joked in a sleepy voice, nudging Aaron’s calf with his toes.

“Nah,” Aaron grinned, leaning in for another soft kiss to the tip of the other man’s nose. “Just admiring the view, aren’t I?”

“Hmm,” Robert hummed, wrapping one naked leg more tightly around Aaron’s, holding him closer and bringing their chests flush together. With each breath, their bare skin brushed, and it was enough to leave them searching for each other’s mouths in a desperate kiss, all tongue and warm lips.

Robert woke fully now, wrapping his strong arms around Aaron’s waist and splaying his hands across the expanse of his back, moving his mouth from his lips to his jaw and then his neck, lightly sucking there with a tiny moan as they tangled together all over again, neither really knowing where one ended and the other began. It was a mess of teeth and tongues and limbs, the moonlight playing over their bare skin as they wound around each other.

Aaron rolled onto his back so that Robert was on top of him, arms bracketing either side of his head, hands spread wide on the pillow. He reached up to find his mouth again, groaning as the new position changed the feel of the kiss, hooking one hand around the back of Robert’s neck to anchor him there. His hips arched voluntarily, and Robert broke away with a gasp to lower his pale blond head to Aaron’s chest and stomach, peppering the sensitive skin there with harsh, wet kisses that made Aaron’s blood heat. His fingers found Robert’s hair and pulled, holding him in place as he laved over his skin.

Until he felt Robert graze the raised, jagged skin on his lower abdomen, and his whole body tensed as fear closed itself around his chest and throat, making his hands,  still holding Robert’s hair, shake violently.

“Robert,” he managed to croak out. “Rob-stop, please. Just stop.”

“Why?” the other man asked, his voice muffled against his stomach. He turned to start covering his body with kisses again. “I was just getting started.”

“Don’t!” Aaron said, this time more harshly. “Please.” His eyes screwed shut as he clenched his jaw to keep from losing his head completely. “Trust me, Robert. I don’t - I don’t want you to touch me there.”

This time, Robert obeyed, and raised his head to give Aaron an intense, concerned look. His eyebrows knitted together in confusion - and worry. “Aaron?”

“I’m ugly, Robert,” he said quietly. “Okay? I - I got scars, all over me, and I don’t want anybody seeing or knowing about them….or touching them.”

“These?” Robert asked gently, rubbing his finger and thumb over a particularly angry one near Aaron’s hip.

He remembered, as clear as day, the memory of how and when he’d done it. He’d had a nightmare, another one, a bad one, and he’d woken up in the middle of the night in a blind panic, unable to breathe, and slashed at his skin with an old razor he found in the bathroom cupboard.

He shut his eyes against the memory, turning away from Robert. But he was persistent, and he heard the rustle of the sheets as he climbed back up to him, cocooning him in his arms and pressing his cheek to the top of his head.

“I used to cut myself,” Aaron whispered into the blackness, not daring to turn his head or look anywhere but at the backs of his own eyelids, because he was too afraid that this revelation might send Robert running for the hills. That it would make him discover that he preferred Chrissie, who didn’t have a map of bad memories and a lifetime of agony etched into her skin. “Before. When I was growing up.”

For several long moments, there was only silence. Aaron filled it awkwardly, suddenly grasped with the desire to get everything off his chest. “I guess I was depressed or summat, I dunno. I think I was. I mean, I didn’t get diagnosed or anything. But I knew I was ill, and I couldn’t stop it, so I just kept cutting because it was the only thing that made me feel any different to how empty I thought my life was. I did it for years.”

“You’re brave,” Robert murmured against his hair, smoothing a hand over the side of his torso and down his thigh in a slow, circular motion, as if to soothe him by his physical touch. “You’re braver than I am.”

“You saw the scars, Rob. They’re disgusting.” Aaron repressed a shudder. “I hate them. I wish I didn’t have them, but I do, and nothing can change that.”

“Hey, hey,” Robert called softly, “don’t talk like that. They’re not disgusting. They’re-” he cut himself off, swallowed audibly. “They’re beautiful.”

Aaron huffed a derisive laugh. “No, they’re not. I don’t need you to pity me, Robert. And I don’t need any false rubbish about how they make me a strong person, because I’ve heard it all before from me mum and I don’t believe it.”

“She’s a smart woman,” he agreed. “She may hate me, but she’s right about that, at least.”  He nuzzled the side of Aaron’s neck, pressed a tiny kiss to his shoulder. “Please believe me when I say I don’t care about what you’ve been through. You don’t have to tell me everything, but - I’m glad you’ve told me about this.”

By some form of miracle, hearing those words loosened something in Aaron’s chest without him wanting them to; just the acknowledgement that he was glad, he was thankful, that he’d shared this with him made it seem a little less of a burden to deal with.

“Thanks for, y’know, listening,” Aaron replied gruffly. “I’m sorry I kind of freaked out before, when you touched me.”

“I get it, it’s a sensitive issue for you,” Robert said. “I’m just sorry you had to go through it, whatever it is, that’s all.” His hand came to rest on Aaron’s stomach. “I am here for you, you know.”

“I know,” Aaron concurred, sleep starting to slur the edges of his words now, the warm lull of Robert’s voice and sincere words - because he believed they were sincere, despite the circumstances, despite everything - making his body relax and become heavy. “Thanks, Robert.”

Robert pulled up the sheets higher and tucked them around them both, protecting them from the slight chill that had descended on the room. “Go to sleep, Aaron. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Oh-ohkay,” Aaron yawned, his eyes closing.

And for the first proper time in a while, he did.

[stubblesandwich]

The One You Feed

A werewolf AU for the Captain Swan Supernatural Summer ( @cssns). Part one of two. Summary: Emma Swan is an underpaid, overworked waitress at a small-town Denny’s. Once a month, a curious customer pays her a visit. In fact, he’s so strange, he’s warranted a special nickname from her friend Ruby--Cute Creepy Guy. He always orders a mountain of cheap breakfast food and eats it like it’s his last night on earth. Oh yeah, and apparently he’s a werewolf. 7,500 words. Name stolen with love from a podcast, which is based on this old poem. Story idea based on this amazing “prompt”. Artwork by the fantastic @spartanguard! See the full manip here. It’s GREAT.

Find it on A03 here.

Rated PG for perilous moments and uses of a crude three-letter word for someone’s tushy.

(for those on mobile, there is a “read more”, I swear!) -------- There was something about rain that made too many people in Massachusetts want pancakes at the same time.

When the wind picked up and the temperature dropped, good old-fashioned comfort food seemed to be on too many minds at once. The Denny's where Emma Swan worked always seemed to be a little fuller when the weather was crappy.

Today was an exception.

She didn't mind when it was busy. After all, full booths meant more tips, and more tips meant she got to pay her rent on time. It was the slow days, like today, that sucked; the breakfast joint turned into a black hole where time stood still and all happiness went to die. She made peanuts with her hourly wage, so when the patrons were few and far between, it was hardly even worth her time to be there.

Emma was a hard worker, always finding something to busy herself with. Idling about only made time move slower, she'd learned. Besides, someone was paying her to be there (even if it was hardly any money), so she might as well be working. It was a huge pet peeve of hers to see some of the other waitresses and cooks on their phones when there was a lull in the day.

(But, it was easy to criticize. Emma couldn't afford a smart phone.)

Not all of her co-workers were bad. She'd made a friend, working there—a fellow waitress named Ruby.

The time was 8:00 p.m. on a Thursday. Unsurprisingly, not many people were craving breakfast food (or anything else Denny's served) that late on a week night, and the restaurant was about as slow as it ever got. Emma had paused in front of the little television behind the register, in a rare daze as she stared at the local news flitting across its tiny screen with zombie eyes. Ruby's sharp voice yanked her out of it.

"Earth to Emma!"

She glanced over at her friend sheepishly. "Sorry," she said, "Were you talking to me?"

Ruby gave a little scoff and a roll of her eyes, but there was no real annoyance behind either. The corners of her mouth twitched upward in a smile. "Uh, yeah!" she said. "It's your turn to wait on Cute Creepy Guy." She gestured over her shoulder, jabbing in the direction of the back corner of the restaurant with her pen.

Emma's gut dropped.

She glanced up at the customer in question, who was frowning down at the menu. Like he couldn't decide what he wanted to order--or like he had heard Ruby's comment about him.

Both options seemed impossible. He was way too far away to hear either of them talking, for one. Secondly, Cute Creepy Guy always knew what he wanted. He came in regularly enough—about once per month since the start of the year—to warrant a special nickname, and he always ordered the same thing. Essentially it was the Lumberjack Slam, a popular Denny's feature for men with something to prove, only modified. A lot.

Said slam featured the following: two hearty buttermilk pancakes, a slice of grilled ham, two strips of bacon, two sausage links, two eggs, hash browns and two slices of toast.

It was an obscene amount of food. Emma had never seen anyone finish it without sharing. That was, of course, until Cute Creepy Guy started frequenting their establishment.

Cute Creepy Guy always, without fail, doubled the portions of meat—sometimes tripled them. Occasionally, he would sub out the pancakes for a Belgian waffle. It was an enormous, seemingly insurmountable amount of food. And he finished it. Every time.

In fact, he often ordered more, after finishing the slam. He took his coffee black; sometimes he'd opt for tea—also black.

Emma had realized long ago that it was probably weird she knew his order so well. But, it was easy to see the pattern when he got the same thing every time. The guy knew what he liked. Besides, she told herself, Ruby likely knew what he ordered, too. The only reason either of them bothered to go up and take his order from him anymore, as opposed to just bringing his food directly out to him when he sat down, was the fact that they didn't know his hot beverage choice of the day or how much extra meat he wanted.

Cute Creepy Guy was in his usual spot, in the most remote corner of the restaurant, alone. He always came alone. He had the same worn out, haggard look he usually did. Dark circles hung beneath his eyes, which only made his eyes seem all the more blue. His dark hair was tousled, as if he'd had his head out the window like a dog on the drive over, but he wore it well. And, as always, he sported the same well-loved, over-sized leather jacket he wore every time he came in.

His hands were resting on the table in front of him. Well, his hand was--the other was a prosthetic, as Emma had come to learn fairly quickly.

(Ruby had never noticed this until Emma had pointed it out to her. "What?!" she'd said when Emma mentioned it to her offhandedly the first time. She'd had to grab her friend's shoulder and pull her back as Ruby spun around to blatantly stare at the back corner where he'd been sitting. "No way! He's missing a hand? How did I never notice that?" Emma had no answer to that.)

Ruby was watching her now, as Emma looked at the customer in question. Ruby donned a wolfish smile that made Emma prickle for some reason, like she knew something Emma didn't and was lording it over her.

"I can't wait on him today, Ruby," Emma started firmly. "Regina has me re-organizing the condiments shelf for the next hour and she really wants it done ASAP for some reason. Besides, he's in your section."

Ruby huffed. "Yes, but sections do not apply to Cute Creepy Guy," she said. "You know this. He's weird, so we take turns. Today, my friend," she said, as she jabbed her pen at her, "Is your turn."

Emma just barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "I don't know why you're so put out by him," she said. "He's not that bad. Just... odd. Besides, he tips really well."

"He tips okay," Ruby said with a shrug. "The same as everyone else here, on average. Which means he doesn't tip all that much, since the food here's so cheap."

Emma paused at that. Cute Creepy Guy had always tipped her exceptionally well, usually at least double the percentage he was socially obligated to. But, apparently this wasn't standard; it seemed to only apply to her. She wasn't sure how she felt about that.

"Fine," she said, "I'll do it. But you'd better start on those condiments for me."

"Deal," Ruby said, shooting her a wolfish grin.

Emma plastered on her fake customer service smile. Ruby saw right through it and bumped her playfully on the shoulder as she passed.

Emma didn't even bother taking out her order pad as she approached his table. Without raising his head, he perked up noticeably as she approached--almost like he could sense her coming.

His whole demeanor changed. His shoulders, tense and hunched up close to his neck, slackened and relaxed. His back straightened, righting his terrible, slumping posture.

And she could have sworn the tips of his ears tinged pink.

He looked up as she stopped at his table, beaming at her.

"Swan," he said, his voice deep and as smooth as velvet. “I was hoping it'd be you.”

Her stomach did a little flip each time he said her name. Not for the obvious reasons--they called him Cute Creepy Guy for a reason, after all, and his English accent was far from off putting--but because she had never actually told him her full name.

The plastic tag on her chest read "Emma", her first name, just as every other server in every other restaurant's read their first name, too. But Cute Creepy Guy had taken it upon himself to give her a moniker, after he had aptly noticed the swan pendant she wore around her neck every day. He had noticed it, complimented it, and turned it into an affectionate nickname.

A nickname that happened to be her real-life surname. But there was no way--outside the very possible realm of stalking, cyber or otherwise--he could have known that. At least, that's what she told herself.

Because Cute Creepy Guy wasn't actually all that creepy. Not to her, anyway. Sure, she understood why Ruby found him to be a little repelling. He was definitely strange. But, Emma had never been scared off by strange. She dealt with weirdos everyday in the serving industry. There was no shortage of creeps trying to peer down the front of her polo shirt as she leaned in to refill their coffee, or checking out Ruby's long legs when she wore shorts in the summer. But this guy wasn't like that. He kept his eyes where they belonged, never straying below Emma's neck--or more accurately, where her necklace ended. She could always feel him watching her when she walked away from his table, but she didn't mind that so much. (At the risk of sounding cocky, she was fairly accustomed to people checking her out.) With Cute Creepy Guy, she never seemed to mind. He was different. It took Emma a few seconds to realize she was staring at him, blatantly admiring his stubble--a little thicker and darker than it was the last time he'd been in--around his jaw instead of answering him.

"Jones," she said. He smiled one brief, impossibly wide smile. A quick flash of white in a Cheshire Cat grin and it was gone, concealed as he ducked his head in a mock bow. But she would swear later his eyeteeth looked impossibly sharp.

“At your service, lass,” he said, dipping his head forward in a mock bow. 

“Actually, I think it's me who's at your service today, buddy,” she said, but she smiled in spite of herself. “What can I get you? The usual?”

He nodded. “Earl Grey today, though.”

“You got it.”

Her sneakers squeaked faintly as she pivoted on her heels and turned back toward the front register. “Swan?” Emma paused, looking back toward him. “Yeah?”

“Extra sausage this time, if you would be so kind,” he said. He smiled brightly at her, and she would have thought him altogether innocent, if not for the look in his eyes, in which there was nothing innocent at all.

There was a dirty joke about sausage right on the tip of her tongue, but an older gentleman in the booth next to where she had paused was staring at her. So instead, she just gave a quick, awkward nod and walked away.

She'd redeem herself when his order was up.

First came the tea. Not many people at Denny's ordered tea. Hipsters now and then would, trying to prove they were cooler than coffee—or at least coffee from a place like Denny's. In all honesty, Emma didn't really know how to make tea very well; the different steep times had always intimidated her. She always left the little bag in too long, making it way too strong and bitter.

But, it was embarrassing to admit in front of an actual Englishman that she didn't know how to properly brew tea. To remedy this, she usually just brought him a cup of hot water with a packaged bag of tea on the side, nestled in beside the cup on a saucer. And bless his soul—he never said a word about it, apart from sharing his thanks.

Jones typically opened said tea package with his teeth, presumably the easiest way to open a tea bag when one only had one hand.

And maybe this was wrong, but the first time Emma saw him do it, she thought it was one of the sexiest things she'd ever seen.

He gave her an appreciative smile when she brought him his saucer and hot water. “Thanks, love.”

She nodded. “No problem.”

He pulled the tea bag out from beside his cup and brought it to his mouth, ripping it open easily with his teeth.

She was staring at him again—biting her lip, no less—and she was suddenly so embarrassed she could have darted outside and straight into traffic. Emma Swan didn't do things like this. She wasn't like this over guys, especially guys she hardly knew.

Heat flooded her cheeks, and she was just about to turn and head back for the kitchen area when he spoke up again.

“So, Swan. How's your day going, love?”

If he had noticed her staring, he was blessedly ignoring it. She could have melted into the tile floor in relief.

“Oh, you know,” she said, “Another day, another dollar.”

He smiled up at her before he turned his attention to his tea cup. She watched as he looped the tea bag string around his index finger and bobbed the bag up and down a few times as it steeped in his cup, dancing like a marionette. “Is your shift just about over?” he asked.

“Actually,” she said, the word coming out through a sigh, “It's just getting started. I'm here past midnight.”

She wasn't sure why she'd told him that, exactly. Emma never, as a general rule, gave anything even resembling personal information to a customer, to include what time she was getting off work. It usually led to conversations she didn't want to have.

But instead of hitting on her, Jones just offered up a sympathetic look. “Sorry, love.”

She shrugged. “I need the money. Hey, most of my section is on the other side of the restaurant today. So if you don't see me, I promise I'm not ignoring you.”

The wolfish grin reappeared on his face. “I would despair if you did.”

She couldn't help the smile that broached her face, though she tried to hide it. Somehow, he was the only person she'd ever met who was able to make such cheesy, melodramatic lines seem sexy. It was impressive, really.

“Yeah,” she said, as a little smile still played across her lips, “Whatever you say, Romeo. I'll be back in a minute.”

It took about twenty minutes, actually. A few more families came in, occupying the tables in her section across the restaurant. She was glad, because this meant more tips and thus more money for her, but it made things a bit awkward with Jones. She was just far enough away that she couldn't see his table to check on him.

What was even more awkward was that he was in Ruby's section, and Ruby came through to check on and refill the coffee mugs of everyone but him. Thankfully it wasn't entirely obvious that she was avoiding him, as his booth was in the far corner and the tables nearest to him were empty. He was a lone wolf, as it were. But still. It was odd for Emma to have the majority of her section on the opposite end of the restaurant with a single table as far away as it could possibly be.

Ten minutes ago, the restaurant had been dull, quiet enough so that she could actually hear the faint, terrible country music playing on the building's outdated speaker system. Now, the place was abuzz with conversations being shared across tables. Everyone in the big group that had come in obviously knew each other; all the kids were wearing matching uniforms, clearly all members of the same local baseball team.

Emma was a good waitress. She was friendly, smiled, and was genuinely good at her job. She asked the kids if they'd won their game—they did—and charmed their parents with a bright smile that wasn't too bubbly or flirty. A few more families came in, obviously from the same team and coming to celebrate the big win against their school's arch nemesis. Her order pad filled and she made lots of promises of ice cream she hoped she could keep—the soft serve machine had been on the fritz earlier—and before she knew it, twenty minutes had flown by.

Cute Creepy Guy's order was definitely up. By the time she made it over to the half wall that divided the kitchen from the rest of the restaurant, where all orders were handed off to and from the cooks, she could see his table; he already had his food, and he looked about halfway finished eating it.

Emma cursed under her breath. She passed off her small mountain of orders to David, Emma's roommate and the restaurant's head chef—or as close to a “head chef” as a Denny's can have—and booked it over to Jones' table. He had a mouthful of something when he looked up at her, his cheeks adorably full.

“I'm sorry,” she said in a rush, even as he waved her apology away with his prosthetic hand. “Really, though. I got caught up with this big group of little league players and--” “Swan,” he interrupted graciously, “It's quite all right. Truly. Ruby brought it out for me not five minutes ago. You're fine, love.”

Relief washed over her. She always hated leaving a customer unattended for too long. It didn't usually bode well for her tip. She knew she'd hear an earful about it from Ruby later, but she didn't care. She was just glad he wasn't upset with her. She let out a breath and gave him a small, appreciative smile. “Okay. Thanks, Jones.”

He returned her smile, but this one didn't quite touch his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something else, but she spoke first when she noticed the plate in front of him.

“Holy crap,” she said, “How are you halfway finished with all that? You said Ruby just brought it to you.”

He looked down at his plate uncomfortably, bravado deflated.

“You must've been hungry like the wolf,” she offered, smiling at him.

He barked out a laugh that was so loud she nearly jumped out of her skin. “What?” she asked, but he just shook his head.

“Nothing,” he said, but his grin belied him. “I'm just going to have that bloody song stuck in my head for the rest of the night.” “Not a Duran Duran fan, are you?” she teased.

“No,” he said flatly, but his eyes still danced. “Can't say that I am.”

She offered him more tea, which he accepted, and she tried to bring it back to him in a timely manner to make up for her utter lack of service before. Over the next hour, Emma was fairly busy. Between checking periodically on Jones and completing the seemingly countless needs of her other tables (the ice cream machine was working, after all, and she had to carry the cones out two by two for a plethora of hungry young baseball players), she was swamped and her shift was finally flying by.

Before she knew it, it was past ten o'clock and she just had a couple hours left on her shift.

Ruby was heading out just as Emma was making her way back to the front register to ring up the final bill from her cluster of tables. “Bye, babe,” Ruby said, shooting her friend a wink. “Hope you made the big bucks today.”

Emma gave a sarcastic huff of a laugh in response. Ruby went on, “Oh, I bussed Cute Creepy Guy's table for you, so don't worry about it.”

Something dropped in Emma's stomach. “Yeah?” she asked. “He left?”

That knowing look was back on Ruby's face. It made Emma so uncomfortable that she had to avert her eyes, suddenly finding the little television above the register very interesting again.

“No,” Ruby said, keeping her voice curiously neutral and devoid of any inflection. “He's still sitting at his table.” This got Emma's attention again and she looked back to her friend. “I'm pretty sure he's waiting for you.”

He was, in fact, waiting for Emma. Still nursing the same mug of tea, which had to be cold by now, he sat in his booth, looking down intently at a book he had laid out across his table. This time, he didn't look up when she approached.

“If you look at that thing any harder, I think you're going to set it on fire,” she said. Jones nearly leaped out of his skin. It was so uncharacteristic that she couldn't help but laugh outright at him. He looked up, his usually wolfish smile looking sheepish instead.

“Swan,” he said. “There you are. I thought you might have gone home early.”

“I wish,” she said. “That would be amazing. I'm scheduled for a morning shift tomorrow, too, so I'd love to go home and sleep. But someone screwed up the schedule, so I'll be here bright eyed and bushy tailed.” She gave a jaunty little swoop with her fist and forearm joined by a sarcastic smile, to which he responded with a wince.

“That's bollocks.”

“Yeah,” she said with a sigh. “Nothing I can do about it now. Anyway, it's time for my dinner break, so I need to go scrounge up something to eat. Just wanted to make sure you were still good back here.”

“I've a free spot right here, if you'd like some company,” he said, gesturing to the empty booth seat across his table with his prosthetic.

Emma hesitated. She had never spent so much time talking to one customer before, let alone sat down to share a meal with one. It should have been weird, but she found that strangely, it wasn't at all. She liked Jones. Sure, he flirted with her recklessly every time she saw him, but she never took it too seriously. He had made it more than clear he was into her, but he never pushed her. Just flirted with her playfully to make his interest clear.

“I promise I won't bite,” he said, his eyebrows wagging at her. “Not today, anyway. Not unless you want me to.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “All right,” she said, “Fine. Let me go put in an order for myself and I'll be right back.”

“I assure you, Swan,” he said, still grinning at her, “You'll find nothing but pleasure in my company.”

She shook her head as she walked away, thinking for the second time that night that no one on earth could get away with lines like that except him.

She returned with a fresh mug of tea for him, which he seemed pleasantly surprised by, and a burger accompanied by a hot pile of onion rings for herself. Jones's eyes went a little dark as he stared down at her plate, and she heard him take in a deep breath through his nose, clearly smelling her food.

“Okay, weirdo,” she said, as she shifted in her booth seat and made herself comfortable. “You can have some, if you want. I get free food here when David's on the fryer.”

“David?”

Emma made a noise around the giant bite of burger she'd just taken. “Heev my fend in bah.”

Jones just stared at her. Emma swallowed and tried again. “Sorry. He's my friend in back.”

“Ah,” Jones said, a little strangely as he looked down at his steeping tea. “I see.”

“He's married,” she said. She wasn't quite sure why she felt the need to tell him this, but Jones looked up at her brightly, and Emma gave him a soft smile. “His fiancee comes in here all the time to visit him. They're my roommates, actually. She's really nice, teaches elementary at the school near by. She probably teaches that horde of kids who came in here. And then David's the night shift cook here. I think she comes in when misses him while he's working.” “That's sweet,” Jones said, as he brought his mug to his lips. Emma watched him for a beat.

“They're really sweet,” she finally said. “Too sweet, actually. Kind of makes you sick.”

He laughed, which made her laugh. “Has there been no great love in your life, Swan?”

Without even thinking, she reached up and grasped the swan pendant around her neck. He watched her, and she dropped her eyes to her lap.

“No,” she finally said, “I have never been in love.”

“Pity,” he said. He had lowered his voice both in timbre and volume, and she noticed suddenly he was much closer, leaning in over the table as he reached out to put his hand over hers.

His palm was hot, and after a few seconds, she jerked her hand away in surprise. He pulled his hand back, too, and stuffed it awkwardly into the pocket of his leather jacket. “Sorry,” he murmured apologetically, but Emma shook her head.

“No, it's just... your hand,” she started. “It's so hot. Are you feeling all right?”

Once she'd asked the question aloud, she noticed that he didn't look the same as he had when she had first waited on him hours ago. He didn't look well at all. The dark circles under his eyes were more pronounced, looking especially dark compared to his skin, which she was now noticing looked pale, ashen.

“I'm fine,” he said, offering a smile she saw right through.

“You don't look fine,” she said pointedly.

He helped himself to an onion ring. She gaped at him, marveling at how he still had room in his stomach for food after everything he'd eaten. “You can't still be hungry,” she said in disbelief, staring at him openly.

He just shrugged in response, concealing a sly grin as he brought another onion ring to his mouth.

“You're something else, Jones.”

“You know,” he said around a mouthful, “I do have a first name.”

“Yeah,” she said, “Something with a 'K', right? I only know your last name from your debit card, when you pay your bill.”

He chuckled. “Yes. Killian.”

“Killian,” she said, trying it out. She liked it. It was unique. She'd never met a Killian before. It was strange, referring to him by an actual first name instead of what she and Ruby usually called him. Thinking of Ruby's nickname for him made her smile, and he canted his head just slightly to one side in questioning, but she decided to keep his less-than-affectionate epithet to herself.

“I dunno,” she went on playfully, “I think it's best if I still think of you as a nameless patron of Denny's. Can't be caught fraternizing with customers and all that.” That signature grin was back on his face. “What if said customer were dashingly handsome?”

She shook her head in dismissal, but still smiled at him as she took another bite of her burger.

The rest of her break passed in easy conversation. He expertly danced around any question pertaining to himself, only giving vague answers that weren't really answers at all, always managing to turn the question back on her.

Most of the time, she didn't fall for it. But Emma found Killian Jones strangely easy to talk to. She told him about her roommates, how they were getting married in the winter, how she'd been asked to be a bridesmaid but was pretty sure they were only asking her because they felt bad for her or because they needed one more person to make the bridal party even. Killian had scoffed openly at that, dismissing it entirely.

“You're mad,” he said. “Anyone would be lucky to have you as part of their wedding. I'm sure you're a wonderful friend, Emma.”

She looked up at him, struck by his use of her first name instead of his usual, affectionate nickname for her—the one that happened to be her actual last name. She missed it.

He returned her gaze, clearly confident in his words. And for awhile, they just looked at each other, until Emma's curiosity fell to shyness and she dropped her gaze.

She cleared her throat awkwardly and reached over for her phone to check the time. “Crap,” she muttered, “I'm over on my break. I gotta get back.”

Killian looked around the restaurant pointedly, as if to say, “Clearly it's so busy in here,” but Emma shook her head as she started to scoot across the booth seat to stand up.

“They use time punches here,” she explained. “My boss has been a real stickler for break times not being over lately.”

“Ah,” Killian said, “I see. Well, in that case, Swan, it was lovely sharing dinner with you.”

“You stealing a few of my onion rings hardly constitutes dinner,” Emma retorted. “Agree to disagree,” he said with a smirk. “Next time, I shall remember to bring the champagne.”

“For?”

“Our second date, of course.”

He was joking. He had to be. The gleam in his eyes gave as much away, but something in his tone was serious. She could just tell, easily, that if she took his invitation and actually said yes to a date with him, he'd be ecstatic.

Suddenly, it was all too much. He seemed to notice, and his entire demeanor shifted as the smile dropped from his face. He opened his mouth to say something, but Emma was already gone, tossing a quick “Catch you later,” over her shoulder as she turned on her heels and made a bee line for the kitchen area.

She would feel bad, later, after hiding in the kitchen area like a coward for nearly fifteen minutes. Regina would chew her out for not punching back in after her break, going on and on about how she would have to go back in and manually adjust her break time, even though David vouched for Emma, saying he saw her come back from her dinner break on time.

When Emma finally came back out onto the floor, Jones was gone. His table was empty, completely bussed and wiped down, as if he had never been there at all.

The restaurant suddenly seemed terribly lonely.   +++ Whoever's idea it was to make Denny's an open-24/7 establishment deserved to be shot. Not killed, necessarily, but maimed. Definitely maimed.

At least, that's how Emma felt as her third night shift in a row was coming to an end at nearly two in the morning. Naturally, five minutes before her shift was supposed to end, a group of teenagers had sat down in her section, taken forever to order a few cheap appetizers, and then left no tip at all. On top of that, Regina had goofed up the schedule and Emma was due to be back--peppy, uniformed, and ready to take orders--at 7:00 a.m. sharp.

It was too late to do anything about it now. No one had noticed the schedule glitch until it was too late, and Denny's, like most entry-level serving jobs, went by a find-your-own-replacement policy when it came to trading shifts. No one in their right mind was going to take an early shift off her hands on short notice.

The back door had a tendency to stick. As Emma gave it an extra hardy shove in anticipation of a fight with the door, it whipped out, jerking her forward, and slammed against the outside wall of the building. Emma swore, pausing for a second to regain her composure before she started toward her car.

The sky was ink black. There was no wind, the night as silent as it was dark, but there was a noticeable nip to the air and Emma pulled her red leather jacket a little tighter anyway, hugging her middle with her forearms. Her purse thumped against her thighs with each step.

She had parked at the far end of the parking lot behind the building. The best spots were reserved for customers, after all, so Emma's faithful yellow bug sat parked next to the dumpster.

The lot was poorly lit, the closest street lamp casting its light only just to the back of her car. She didn't usually make a habit of parking in the darkest, eeriest corner of the lot, but it had been fairly busy when she'd first started her shift. The employee parking lot was nearly to capacity; any better spots had been ruined by a handful of idiots who didn't know how to park inside the lines.

And that's how Emma found herself, on a cold, dark night, almost getting mugged.

She didn't see the man until she was nearly to her car; most of him was hidden by the position of the dumpster.

The moon, full and swollen in the sky, did more for her vision than the street lamp. It at least let her see the glint of metal in his hand as he stepped out and toward her. A knife, if she was lucky. A gun if she wasn't.

“What the hell,” she said, the words shooting out of her mouth in a startled jumble. Reflexively, she reached for her purse. Her fingers fumbled, but she had what she wanted in seconds: a travel-size canister of pepper spray. Her fears weren't misplaced. The man darted out from behind the dumpster and started coming at her, fast—too fast to have honorable intentions.

What came next happened so fast, she could barely process it.

A sound tore through the air then, so loud it seemed to grab her by the bones and shake her.

She whipped around and was met with a set of teeth.

Enormous, gleaming white teeth. They were attached to an even larger snout, black enough to blend in with the night, directly behind which sat a pair of wide, seemingly iridescent blue eyes.

Emma did what any self-respecting woman standing in the cold dark holding a canister of pepper spray in front of a monster would do: she screamed, threw up her arm, and sprayed the hell out of it.

This was, she was instantly certain, the worst decision of her life.

It let out a deep, piercing bellow of rage and pain. She could see the moonlight reflect off its white teeth, felt its hot breath on her face as it roared at her.

The man behind her stood gaping like an idiot, petrified. When the creature cried out, he let out a shriek of fear and took off across the parking lot, leaving Emma to fend for herself.

Which, of course, she was relatively capable of. She immediately took a step back, just in time as the creature lurched forward at her. It bent down low, pawing wildly at its eyes as its cries turned to pain-filled yelps. It sounded like an injured dog more than a monster. And really, as it pushed forward into the light from the street lamp, it looked like a dog. An insanely huge, nearly horse-sized dog. It was ink black, its fur slick in the light. But as its lips pulled back over knife-like teeth, Emma knew this was no dog.

Emma's brain screamed at her to run, to get the hell out of Dodge, but her legs wouldn't move. They were numb with fear.

She could only stare, saucer-eyed, as the thing in front of her kept pawing at its face. Then she noticed something—it only had one paw. Where the other should have been, instead there was a stump. It wasn't as effective and didn't reach as far as the monster's actual paw did, but it still jammed it up into its eye, rubbing furiously.

It howled, arching its back up toward the moon, before it threw itself forward onto the ground, so close to Emma's feet that she could feel its wet breath on her legs through her jeans as it panted.

Finally, she snapped out of it and jerked herself away, stumbling toward her car. She dug around for her keys in her bag, wishing for the first time in her life she'd had the foresight to clean all the unnecessary crap in her purse.

If she lived through the night, she swore she would be the cleanest, tidiest person on the planet. Because apparently, being tidy meant you could get to your car keys faster in the dark when there was a terrifying monster on your ass. She let out a happy, crazy little laugh when she finally found her keys. She was trying to hurry, but her hands were trembling. She was brave, but she was human, and she was scared out of her mind, even with a canister of mace in her hand.

Her hands were shaking so badly that her car keys immediately slipped out of them and hit the ground with a soft clink. She cursed and dropped to her knees, feeling around blindly for them in the dark, feeling horribly close to Velma from Scooby Doo, searching for her dropped glasses. “Crap,” she said, as her search grew more and more frantic. “Crap crap crapcrapcrapcrap--”

The dog-thing behind her gave a strained, elongated groan that was so deep, it rattled Emma's car. She felt it through the pavement on her palm, and a chill shot up her spine. In her peripheral vision, she could see the creature writhing jerkily on the ground.

She could have sobbed in relief when her fingertips finally brushed her keys for the second time. She grabbed them, and they jangled loudly as she jumped back to her feet.

Her car was so ancient, it didn't unlock with a button and had to have the key manually inserted into the door. This took her a few moments, trying to jam it into the slot in the dark with her still-shaking hands, but once she did she ripped the door open faster than she ever had in her life.

Surprisingly, the car started easily, on the first try. Emma couldn't count the number of times she'd had to get a jump start from one of her co-workers because her decrepit car wouldn't start up. Today, the old bug was faithful. She jerked the car into reverse and slammed her foot on the gas, nearly giving herself whiplash as the car lurched backward. The creature wasn't in her rear-view mirror, and her brain wanted to tell her it was gone, that it had fled off into the night, but her gut told her otherwise.

For now, though, it was nowhere in sight, and Emma was getting the hell out of there. She threw the car into drive as soon as she had enough room to move forward. The car's rubber tires squealed against the pavement, skidding for just a second before Emma hit the gas all the way.

And then there was a naked man on her windshield.

She felt him before she saw him. The thump was loud, sickening, and she felt it in her chest before she saw anything. But then there was a whole lot to see, with someone's ass cheeks pressed to the glass of her windshield, and she screamed more in surprise than fear.

The car jerked again as it was thrown back into park, clearly not accustomed to being put in and out of gears so violently. As soon as the car stopped, the man rolled off her windshield and onto the ground in front of the car with an audible thump.

Emma closed her eyes and pressed her forehead onto her steering wheel for a second, trying to keep herself from slipping into a panic attack through sheer will power, hoping to God she hadn't just killed someone with her car.  

She knew it couldn't be same man who had tried to mug her, since he had been fully clothed only seconds ago, but there was a freaking monster in the parking lot and she was not about to leave the person she'd hit with her car as its midnight snack.

She shouldered her car door open and rushed around to the front of her car. “Oh, my God,” she said. “Are you okay? Please be okay. I'm so sorry—I didn't see...” She trailed off as she hovered over him, completely unsure of what to do. He was buck ass naked, every inch of his pale body visible in the moonlight, and she could feel her cheeks flushing as she scrutinized him for injury while trying to avert her eyes from certain portions of him at the same time.

And then her eyes focused on his face for the first time, as he groaned and raised his head up from the pavement.

“What the hell,” she breathed. “Jones...?”

It was, in fact, Killian Jones. He was naked, in the back parking lot of Denny's, and she had hit him with her car.

And that wasn't even the weirdest part of her day. Because she remembered then that there was a monster on the prowl, a monster she had pissed off by spraying it in the face with pepper spray.

“Killian,” she said, and somehow using his first name made the situation all the more real to her. “We have to go.” She bent down and grabbed his arm, trying her best to pull him to his feet. He was unexpectedly heavy. “Come on, we have to get out of here. I have so many questions for you, but they'll have to wait. There's a monster in the woods, but it could come back any second and I really don't want it to--” “Swan?” Jones said, sounding utterly confused. His voice was coarse, as if he'd lost it screaming his heart out at a concert the night before. His face was turned up toward her, and he was looking at her, but it seemed like he was having a hard time finding her with his eyes, or focusing them at all.

“Yeah,” she said, “It's me. I really want to know why you're naked in the back parking lot of my workplace, but right now I need you to get in my car.” Tired of waiting for him to accept her hand, she moved around behind him, squatted down, hooked her arms under his shoulders, and started hauling him to his feet.

“I know it sounds crazy,” she continued, trying to keep some semblance of calm in her voice so she didn't sound like a complete maniac, “But there's something in this parking lot. Some kind of monster. It's huge, and black with these weird glowing eyes, and it almost killed someone who was trying to mug me before I sprayed it in the face with mace. I think it ran away, but I'm pretty sure I only pissed it off.”

He let her help him to his feet, but then he had the audacity to laugh at her. Just a short, uneasy chuckle, but a laugh none the less.

“Are you laughing at me?” She said, jerking her hands away from him. Her arms went immediately to her middle, self-consciously hugging herself. “I know it sounds crazy or whatever, but I know what I saw. I know what happened. If you think just because--”

“Swan,” he said, cutting her off firmly. “You're not crazy.” Her jaw fell slack as she stared at him. “Want to know how I know that?”

He reached out and put his hand on her shoulder, gently and soothingly massaging the leather of her jacket with his thumb. He stopped as soon as he realized what he was doing. She wished he hadn't. But he didn't remove his hand, the warmth of which she could feel even through her thick jacket, and she was so struck by the tenderness of this that she forgot for a second how weird the situation was—and how very, very naked he still was.

She swallowed, then nodded, and he went on. “Because I'm still scrubbing pepper spray out of my eyes. That was me.”

She felt like her brain was buffering. She understood all of the individual words he had said, but what he'd told her—what he was actually saying—wasn't registering. It didn't make any sense. If she'd sprayed him, that meant something that couldn't be true.

She took a step back, and his hand dropped back to his side.

“You... You're...” Any useful words faltered. Her mouth opened and closed a few times. She was vaguely aware that she looked like a surprised trout.

“Aye,” he said, ducking his head to rub at his eyes again with his hand. She noticed then, for the first time, how they were red-rimmed and watering. “A giant, terrifying monster by night. Normal diner patron by day.”

She laughed a sharp, awkward bark of a laugh. Because “normal” wasn't exactly the word she would have picked to describe him. He had always been strange, stood out like a sore thumb—so strange that he'd earned a special nickname amongst the waitresses.

It turned out strange didn't even begin to cover it.

[wellhellotragic]

If Looks Could Kill 2/27

Summary: Emma Swan is a dedicated FBI agent getting over a bad breakup. When she and her partner, Ruby Lucas, are forced to go undercover as contestants on a reality show, Emma is forced to try and win the affections of Killian Jones, a man she despises.

Killian Jones is a lost boy. Having recently been nicknamed the ‘Bad Boy of Boston,’ he’s been living up to his moniker using women and rum to avoid dealing with his dark past. When he’s forced to take the lead in a reality show, he encounters a gorgeous blonde who turns his world upside down.

Miss Congeniality meets The Bachelor

Rated: M for language, violence, and smut.

Catch Up Here: 1

The week flew by for Emma. She and Ruby quizzed each other back and fourth on their backstories, making sure that they wouldn’t stumble if someone asked them a random question. They were going in as friends, an idea the network execs jumped at. It would be great for ratings having two friends vying for the same man. It would create the drama audiences thrived on.

Ruby’s was playing the part of a lingerie model, a part she would excel at. They had some guys at the bureau take pictures of her, editing them into full blown advertising campaigns to add to the internet for proof if anyone googled her.

Emma on the other hand was going in as a writer for a beauty and health magazine. Emma tried to argue that she wanted to play a cop or sheriff, but everyone was worried that even a small time law enforcement officer might scare off Tamara. Just as they had done for Ruby, the tech support guys created Emma’s cover, including some magazine articles, a blog, and some other social media profiles for her.

She fought to keep her lunch down as she read the articles she had ‘written’ about hair care and the latest workout trends. It was the complete opposite of everything she stood for. Emma believed that women should feel empowered from the inside, not the superficial outside.

The only benefit was when Graham had told her it seemed fitting, given her body. Both of them had blushed at the comment. She avoided being alone with him after that, but couldn’t help how her eyes would wander over to him during their briefings, where she found him already watching her each time.

Technically he was her boss, or at least he was for the next couple of months, and she wasn’t ready to date, but her brain would sometimes drift to some unlady like images. Maybe he could be an easy fling before she headed back to New York.

Bad Emma, she chastised herself.

The group also went through the profiles of the other contestants on the show, garnering some lewd comments from Will. The women were a complete mix of ethnicities and all beautiful, causing Emma to groan.

How was she supposed to compete with these gorgeous women when she was completely repulsed by the prize? When Ruby pushed it, she had admitted that he was attractive, but that his personality was so bad that it overshadowed his looks. When Ruby mentioned the accent, Emma quickly reminded her that they were surrounded by men from the UK, and it had lost its appeal.

The girls also met the other two agents that were going undercover with them. James Charming and Ava White would pose as a newly married couple, David and Mary Margaret Nolan. David would be a camera operator, giving him unlimited access to the mansion and contestants, while Mary Margaret would act as a production assistant, helping them control everyone’s actions.

Both seemed nice enough to Emma, and they complemented each other well despite never having worked together officially before. The two had spent the week in character, and anyone who didn’t know better would see them as newlyweds happily in love.

Robin and Will couldn’t be present on the set like the others since Killian knew them, and they didn’t want anyone to know about the operation, especially Killian per Regina’s request. If an emergency came up they would be able to quickly visit as Killian’s friends, but most of their time would be spent behind computers running surveillance and providing support to the girls.

Graham said he would check in on them from time to time, but he also had other teams to supervise. Ruby conspiratorially told Emma that Graham just didn’t want to watch Emma flirt with another man, earning another of Emma’s patented eye rolls.

Emma and Ruby sat through their final briefing, going over everything one last time, including the suspect of the case, Tamara. Regina explained to everyone that Killian Jones was no stranger to threats. A few years before Killian had a very unfortunate brush with a crazed fan, but Regina didn’t go into the details. Emma had tried to search the incident, but found nothing. Whatever it was, Regina had gone to great lengths to keep it under wraps. Emma made a mental note that Regina was exceptional at her job if even she couldn’t find anything.

Regina explained though, that usually the threats were directed to whatever lady he was currently sleeping with. His female fan base didn’t respond well to him dating, not that what he did could be considered dating. This time though, it was Killian who was receiving the threats. Regina made sure that Killian’s assistant, a man named Smee, intercepted all of the threats, and that Killian had no idea.

She was dodgy about the reasons when asked, but Robin spoke up agreeing with her that it was in everyone’s best interest that Killian not find out. They explained that Regina had mentioned it in passing to Robin one night over diner but neither of them took the threat that seriously. Fans loved to write outlandish things for attention. It wasn’t until one of Will’s informants told him that he heard a hit had been ordered on Killian that they realized how serious the situation was.

After months of investigating, they still didn’t know much. They hadn’t figured out who had ordered Killian’s assassination yet, only that it had been accepted. It was Ruby and Emma that stumbled across Tamara while investigating another case and the pieces started to come together.

She was rumored to have ties to a Boston mob family, and her name had come up while interrogating the lead suspect of another murder for hire. They had ultimately ruled her out in that case, but something about her stuck with Emma. When she ran some details through her confidential informants, she learned that Tamara had moved back to Boston from New York and had possibly accepted a hit that had been ordered, but the informants were too afraid to ask questions, and Emma knew she wouldn’t get anymore out of them.

When Emma called up the Boston office to give them a heads up she was transferred to Robin. After explaining the situation, Robin informed her that he believed she was connected to his case and invited Emma and her partner to come join the investigation.

Tamara was smart though, and clearly well funded. She purchased everything in cash leaving no money trail, and no statements of purchase. She had taken up a bar tending job at the Rusty Anchor as a front, but had apparently quit as soon as she found out that she was going to be on the show. Robin believed that she took a job there knowing that Killian frequented the bar, but left after getting better access to him.

Hopefully Emma or Ruby could find something that linked her to the hit, or to the person who ordered it.

“Okay guys, I think we’re all set here,” Graham stated as her stood from his chair to stretch.

“Oi, before anyone leaves, I think we should have a group outing tonight at the Rusty Anchor. It’ll be like a last hurrah before we all go under house arrest. What do you lot say?”

Emma was finding it easier to understand Will after the last few weeks working together. Initially she found his poor use of the English language annoying, but now it was enduring.

Ruby shot Emma a wink. “We’re in! What time?”

Emma wanted to be upset with her partner, but couldn’t find it in herself. They had spent every waking hour that week huddled in their make shift office, or in the conference room. When they weren’t at work they were trying to get a couple of hours of shuteye in their hotel room, all too tired to do anything else.

Graham joined in, “How about we shoot for eight?”

“Well looky there,” Will stated giving Robin a sly grin. “He is a real boy. We just assumed that you went in your office and powered down at night.”

Graham had rarely attended any social gatherings outside of work. He liked to maintain some distance from the other agents to keep things professional. His voluntary attendance that night was about as rare as a goose laying a golden egg.

“Ha, ha,” Graham shot back. “We’re all in for a long road ahead, and I think all of us could stand to use a night out first.” Graham emphasized the last bit while shoot a look to Emma before quickly averting his gaze back to Robin.

“Sounds good.” Emma was actually a little excited. “We’ll see you boys there.”

Everyone left work pretty quickly and Emma and Ruby headed back to their hotel. Emma showered and actually managed to shave her legs for a change. She had no intentions of doing anything with Graham, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t dress to impress. When she got out of the shower she wrapped herself in a towel before drying and curling her hair. She left her makeup light knowing that she’d be wearing way too much of it in the following weeks, but choose a bright red lip color. She wrestled through her suitcase before putting on some sexy black lace underwear and a matching bra, purely for the confidence factor. She threw on a short little black dress as well and waited for Ruby to join her.

She didn’t have to wait long, and Ruby didn’t disappoint in the wow factor either. Ruby had on a long sleeved blue dress, but the lack of material on the bottom more than made up for the extra coverage up top.

By the time both girls made it down stairs they had just enough time to hail a cab to the bar. When they walked in all three men where already at a table waiting for them, along with Regina. They ordered beers all around. The evening was pleasant. They shared stories of their more interesting cases, and most embarrassing moments. A few men tried to approach Emma and Ruby, but they both politely declined enjoying the company they were in too much.

About three hours had passed when Robin got a call. Without looking at the caller ID he answered.

“Locksley.”

“Hey,” came a familiar voice. “What is all of that noise? Wait, are you at the bar?” He sounded a little hurt.

“Ya,” Robin replied sheepishly. “Sorry. We’re having a bit of a work outing mate.”

There was a pause before Killian spoke up again. “And you didn’t invite me because?”

Robin slumped down in his chair groaning and catching the attention of the others.

“I’m sorry, I just assumed you were busy getting ready for tomorrow.” Robin was quick on his feet, a good quality in their line of work.

“Well, I’m going to assume Regina is there with you, and she could have easily pointed out that I am, in fact, not busy. I believe I also heard a few female voices in the background? Are you afraid I’m going to alienate your lovely lady colleagues?” Robin could tell that Killian was trying to disguise the pain in his voice with lusty innuendo.

When Robin didn’t say anything Killian continued. “Look, if I promise to be on my best behavior can I come? It’s my last night of freedom and I’d like to hang out with you guys before I get fed to the beast, and before you answer you should know I’m already walking over there.”

Emma saw Robin’s eyes shoot wide. “Um, ya, sounds great. I think of couple of the guys were just about to leave, but Will and I can hang around for a bit still.”

Robin finished the call and then turned to tell everyone at the table that Killian would be there in a couple of minutes. Ruby and Emma took that as their cue to leave so Killian wouldn’t recognize them the next day. Both ladies were halfway down the block when Emma realized she had left her phone on the table.

She ran back quickly hoping to get in and out before Killian arrived. She was met at the door by Graham, who had found her phone and was attempting to return it before she got too far. Before she could thank him she saw Killian rounding the corner heading straight for them.

She panicked. He couldn’t see her so she did the only thing she could think of. She grabbed Graham by the lapels of his jacket and crashed her lips into his, hoping to hide her face from Killian’s view.

After seeing Killian make his way inside, she let Graham go, and he stumbled back a few steps. She couldn’t help the way her tongue darted out to lick her lips after.

“Wow,” was all he managed to get out.

Killian had been in hell all week. Regina had written him scripted answers to give to all of the interviewers. They asked him questions about his past and his goals for the future. They asked him why he had decided to do the show. He recited Regina’s words perfectly and the girl interviewers swooned over him.

He spent a full day in a studio in front of a camera taking pictures of him in different suits holding red roses. By the time he left that night he was sure he’d never see again from all of the flashes.

His breaking point came when Regina explained to him how the elimination process would work. He would have time to interact with all of the women, and at the end of the week there would be a rose ceremony, where he would present a single red rose to each of the women lucky enough to pass through to the next round.

In the beginning he was under the assumption that he would get to choose the women who stayed each week. It wasn’t until Regina informed him that morning how it really worked that he’d lost it and dove back into the rum.

Killian would be allowed to give them a list of the women that he wanted to stay, but the final decisions would be up the network based on viewer comments. If there a tie between the women based on viewer demands, they would look to Killian’s list to see who would stay.

When Regina left, Killian went straight to his bar and grabbed a half open bottle, downing it as quickly as he could. He stumbled over to the couch where he passed out for the rest of the day. When he woke up it was almost eleven at night.

He got up and went for his phone to see if he had missed any calls or texts, but his phone taunted him with the fact that he didn’t have any friends. Outside of Robin and Will that was actually true. He had succeeded at driving everyone else away.

He had to admit, his life was lonely, and he was a little bothered by the fact that neither of his two best friends had tried to invite him out for a last night out. He knew that they were often busy with work, but remembered them saying that they were gearing up for a sting the next morning, meaning they should still be free tonight.

He called Will first but it went straight to voicemail. He called Robin next and when he answered he could barely hear him over all of the background noise. He heard a couple of females laughing hard at something, and then Will’s voice in the background.

He didn’t even bother waiting for Robin to say anything before heading down to the bar, still wearing his clothes from that morning. He was hurt, but even more than that, he was angry.

He hung up with Robin as he reached the lobby of his building. He wanted to launch into the guys for excluding them. He found himself almost jogging to bar.

As he rounded the corner he saw Graham Humbert, Robin and Will’s boss outside. He found his anger subsiding a bit, realizing that Robin had told the truth when he said it was a work thing.

He considered saying hello to Graham but before he could, Graham had found himself otherwise occupied and Killian couldn’t help but grin as he walked past. It didn’t take him long to find the table where everyone, including Regina was sat. There were empty beer bottles all over the place.

Killian sat down nodding at both men.

“Was that your boss I saw outside?” He already knew the answer but was trying to make small talk, having been a little embarrassed at his earlier attitude.

Will held his phone up in the air. “Ya. He just got called back into work for an emergency though.”

“Ah,” Killian grinned back. “I never realized that Graham Humbert was the type of guy that considered making out with leggy blondes an emergency.”

Robin spat out his beer all over the table.

[hopeduckling13]

Find My Way Back To You: Chapter 5

Summary:  Hope Swan-Jones is the product of the product of true love and her true love, so her having very powerful magic was always in the cards. Luckily she lives in a town where everyone is very familiar with magic, so nothing can go wrong, can it?

Or so everyone thought, but then one day as a newborn Hope accidently travels back in time with her mother Emma.

How will the past population of Storybrooke react to their Savior having another kid and being married? And more importantly will the Savior and her baby daughter find a way back home to all of their loved ones?

- - -

Catch Up:

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14857127/chapters/34395467

FF.NET: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12964592/1/Find-My-Way-Back-To-You

[Prologue] [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4]

— EMMA’S POV —

I can feel Killian’s eyes on me as I leave his ship behind me. I know he doesn’t have his memories and true loves kiss obviously won’t break this curse, but I couldn’t help not giving him that cheek kiss before I left. It might be confusing to him now, but he’ll get it as soon as he has his memories back, which hopefully will be the case very soon. I can’t say, that I didn’t need this kiss right now, either. It would have been too weird for me to just walk away without a real goodbye since I’ve kissed Killian whenever I went somewhere without him for years now. Also, this was kind of a symbol to me. A small message of hope, that makes me believe that everything will be okay. It has to be. I won’t give up. That wouldn’t be fair to myself or to Hope. She deserves to have both of her parents at their best and we’re at our best, when we’re together without anything in our way.

Speaking of my adorable daughter, I momentarily stop on the middle of main street to look at her. I checked on her multiple times during our walk, but now is the only time I stop walking since my baby is awake. She looks up at me with sleepy eyes, that kind of seem sad to me.

She might have realized, that something bad happened. She really is a smart kid.

I softly stroke her head. “Don’t worry, sweetie. We’ll find a way to save your dad. Soon. I promise.” I whisper in a soft voice, trying to sound confident for Hope’s sake, but I don’t think it worked out too well. I’m not even sure, if I was trying to convince her or myself.

“Let’s go get some help.”

I’m going to search for my parents now and they’ll help me figure this out. My dad mentioned, that he had some work to do at the station today, so that’s where I’ll check for him first. If he’s not there, I’ll check at the school since my mother should be there, unless she went to get lunch. But that wouldn’t be too bad either since I know, she always eats at Granny’s.

Luckily, I don’t have to search for long though, so making plans was pretty unnecessary, I realize that as I walk into the station. I hear their voices as soon as I’m inside.

“Emma, is that you? Are you back already?” I hear my mum ask me.

“Yeah.” I answer, while closing the door behind me and Hope.

I walk inside the main room, where my parents are, too. My dad is working through some paperwork and my mum just watches him. She is probably visiting him during her lunch break. I’m sure Killian would do the same every day, if he wasn’t working with me and my dad. That’s also why I miss him a lot. This is the longest we’ve been apart for as long as I can remember. It’s honestly a wonder we never get tired of each other, but I guess that’s what true love is all about. Anyway, that proves how much I need my parents help with the whole memory loss problem.

“I’m glad you’re here. There’s been a problem. Killian’s memories are kind of messed up and I need your help retrieving them.”

Both their heads swing in my direction instantly and they look at me as if I’m a crazy person, who should be locked into a mental hospital. Then their eyes narrow on Hope as if they don’t know her at all.

“Emma, who is Killian? And whose baby is that?” My dad walks over to me cautiously and puts his hand on my forehead, checking for a fever, probably. When he realizes, that my temperature isn’t too high, he looks relieved, but there’s still a weird kind of worry hidden in his eyes.

“Killian? Do you mean Hook? Why would you care about his memories? He took Belle’s memories, so he deserves it.”

What the hell?! That was so long ago. Belle isn’t even alive anymore and they were friends before she died. All this can only mean one thing. My parents don’t remember the last few years either. What the hell is this curse doing? Is the whole town affected?

“The curse messed up your memories, too.” I say and they both look at me with even more pity and worry.

“Emma, I think you should go home and rest a little. You’re not well. There is no curse anymore. You broke it a few weeks ago. Everything is fine. This is all probably just the stress talking – I mean no one could blame you. So much is happening – Cora being here, Hook trying to kill Rumpelstiltskin and having injured Belle because of it…” My dad says, while he puts his hand protectively on my shoulder.

“I’m well, everyone else just isn’t.”

It’s that moment that I realize, that something is incredibly off about this situation. All of this can’t be connected to the curse. There’s no way the whole town could be affected a few days after the curse happened. This can’t be it.

“We’re fine, Emma. Did Cora do something to you? To confuse you or anything?” My mother says.

Cora.

Killian’s memories went back to that time, too. Does that mean what I think it means?

I look down at my daughter and her tiny hands. She’s so small, that you wouldn’t think of her as extremely powerful, but she is. I’m the product of true love, which gives me strong light magic already, but Hope obviously has even stronger light magic. She is the product of the Savior’s true love with her pirate. I was wrong to assume she only brought us to the docks because she missed her daddy. It might be what she intended to do, but no one has taught her how to control her magic yet. So, it’s no surprise, that something went incredibly wrong. Killian has been telling her the story of how we met and fell in love almost every night before she went to sleep. She probably thought of those stories, when she wanted to travel us to the docks, so instead, she brought us back to the docks in the past.

I should’ve realized this all sooner. No wonder true loves kiss with Killian didn’t work. True love can break any curse, so I should’ve seen, that this isn’t caused by a curse.

I shouldn’t have underestimated my daughter. But who would think, that a baby is capable of travelling back into the past. When Zelena tried to open a time portal with her dark magic, she needed many ingredients and she had to die to activate the portal, but Hope can open a time portal with the flick of her hand? That’s insane and if I wouldn’t be so worried about how we’ll get back home, I’d be very proud of my baby. I once before had to find my way back to the future, but I doubt the wand will work again since we didn’t really travel here through a portal. One second, we were home and the next we were at the docks. Travelling through a time portal is different. I know that for sure since Killian and I fell through one the last time – well I fell, he jumped after me.

“I know this is going to sound crazy, but you don’t happen to know how to time travel, do you?”

My parents looked even more confused now and as if they didn’t have enough on their plates already, my past self just walked into the station with takeout from Granny’s. As soon as she sees me, she lets those bags drop to the floor though and stares at me with an open mouth.

“Who- What- Why?”

She obviously doesn’t manage to get a full sentence out and I’m not surprised. I might have travelled to the past before, but it’s still weird for me to see myself. And another problem is that this time I changed the past far too much already. There’s no way I can fix this without taking everyone’s memories. So, I don’t only have to find a way back home, I also have to find a forgetting potion that works on the whole town. That’s just great.

[blessed-but-distressed]

Blindspot 3/3

A short CS AU three-parter based on a prompt by @shady-swan-jones. A mutual pining, roommates kind of prompt. And who am I to deny?

also on ff.net

“Don’t you think you should, I don’t know, talk to her? Clear the air?”

This wasn’t the first time Emma had suggested this. Not by a long shot. But their kitchen was now about 90% peony, and something had to give. Preferably the peonies.

Ruby grimaced. “Emma, I love you, but if we couldn’t bring ourselves to talk on a nine-hour non-refundable train ride through the alps, do you really think we’re going to start now?”

She had a point. But Emma could think of at least twenty newly delivered reasons why it might be worth giving it a shot.

Whatever had happened before The World’s Most Awkward Non-Refundable Holiday, clearly someone was eager to make amends. Unless of course Dorothy was under the mistaken impression Ruby suffered from hayfever, and was attempting slow torture, one arrangement at a time. Somehow Emma doubted it.

“You sure you don’t want to try, like, actual healthy adult communication? It seems to be working for Killian and Belle.”

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?” Emma asked.

“Get that pinched look whenever you say her name. With this crease right between your eyebrows. Right here.”

Emma slapped her hand away.

“You don’t like her, do you?” Ruby said, as though this somehow confirmed a long-held suspicion of hers.

“What?” Emma blustered. “Of course I like her. What’s not to like? She’s sweet and nice and god, her pancakes. It’s just…”

“She’s sleeping with the guy you’re carrying a torch for?” Ruby finished, all innocence.

Nail. Head.

But it wasn’t like she was going to tell Ruby that. Ruby, who regularly came home tanked. Ruby, who had always been a very honest drunk. Ruby, who liked to sit up with Killian at all hours on the weekends, playing cards and gambling away household chores.

It was not a good combination.

“A torch? Me? Hey, no one’s carrying any torch here!”  

“Oh, c’mon!” Ruby snorted. “You’ve had a raging Maglite for the guy as long as I’ve known you. And look, I get it, okay? He’s got that whole tall, dark and broody thing going on, and it’s working for him. And we’ve all caught him leaving the bathroom in that towel that’s just a little too small on him. But if you didn’t like seeing him with his girlfriend, don’t you think maybe you should have, I don’t know, told him how you felt? You had three whole years do to it in!”

Not. Helping.

But Ruby was on a roll now. “No, instead you chose to go out with that jerk from the furniture store. The one I thought looked kind of like a monkey. And that writer guy…”

“August,” Emma supplied.

“Right,” Ruby continued. “You keep going out with all these deadbeats you don’t even really care about. Because when it ends, and with those guys it’s definitely just a matter of when, you get to just brush yourself off and go, ‘oh well, I tried,’ and you never actually have to risk getting your heart broken again.”

Any way you sliced it, Ruby was ruined as a waitress. With those kind of insights, she should’ve been sitting in a fancy office, charging $250 an hour to see into people’s heads.

But no, Emma wasn’t going to tell her that. Not when Ruby was so right. Not when denial, her old friend, was so readily available as an easy out.

“I liked August!” Emma protested.

“Uh huh. So when he sold that script and moved to California, approximately how long did you spend considering going with him?”

Of course she hadn’t considered it. Los Angeles, was, well… Los Angeles. And her life was in Boston. Her job. Her friends. Killian-

Shit.

Ruby had her dead to rights, and she knew it. And that self-satisfied smile wasn’t helping.

“You know what I did after my first date with Dorothy?” Ruby said suddenly, interrupting Emma’s shame spiral.

“Text me all of the gory, gory details?” Emma supplied, remembering just how gory.

Ruby waved her hand dismissively. “I mean after that. You know what I did?”

“What?”

“I went on Pinterest and started looking at wedding themes.”

Emma opened her mouth, but nothing came out. That is, that was…

“So unlike me, right?” Ruby said, rolling her eyes. “But I just knew, you know? She was it. Still is it.” She made a face. “I should call her, huh?”

“Uh, yeah,” Emma said, stretching her hands wide to take in the peonies that now occupied every available surface of their apartment.

“Fine,” Ruby relented. “I’ll call her. But you have to tell Killian how you feel.”

“Rubes! That’s not anywhere near the same thing. For one thing, we live together. And let’s not forget he has a girlfriend.”

“Actually,” came a deeper voice from the doorway, “He doesn’t.”

Please don’t be, please don’t be… It was Killian. Leaning oh-so-casually against the door jamb, his thumbs hooked in the belt loops of his jeans.

Did he have to look like he’d just stumbled out of an ad for Levis right now?

Ruby had never exactly been one for subtlety. Between the hair and the cleavage and the everything, you somehow knew not to expect it. But when she made a big show of getting up and leaving the two of them there, alone, Emma still kinda wished she could have one friend who could be chill for like, two seconds.

The one saving grace was that when Ruby slipped into the hallway, she already had her phone in her hand. If Emma had to meet her humiliating end, and that was a dead certainty, at least it would be in service of making their apartment peony-free.

Only once Ruby’s footsteps had died away did Killian finally heave himself up into a standing position, his attention still keenly fixated on her.

There was only one thing for it, Emma had to go on the offense.

“So I hope you’re not going to miss living in a greenhouse, because I give it three hours and Ruby and Dorothy are back on. Goodbye apology flowers, hello having to announce yourself before you walk into rooms, because you know what they’re-”

“Swan-”

“Which I guess is better than the flowers. In some ways. I mean, it’s gross, obviously. But at least I’ll be able to get to the coffee maker without-”

“Swan.”

He’d taken Ruby’s empty chair now, and Emma felt herself bite her lip, to stop even more of the babble from spilling out.

“How much did you hear?” Emma asked, her voice a lot more shaky than she’d like.

“Raging Maglite?” he repeated. His amused tone was reassuring enough, but his words? Not so much.

Shit.

“You and Belle broke up?”

“Aye,” he said, one hand reaching up to scratch behind one ear. “A few weeks ago now. You might’ve noticed, but you’ve been hard to pin down lately. Extra hours and what not.”

An intentional choice, on her part. Sure, she needed the money. But there was also only so much domestic bliss one person could accidentally walk in on. Taking a few extra diner shifts seemed like the more responsible choice than dragging her sorry ass to the nearest bar and drowning her sorrows, night after night.

“You okay?”

It wasn’t what Emma really wanted to know. Sure, she cared about the guy. About his well-being. That’s what had started this whole mess, after all. But the larger part of her was just dying to know why? Had he broken it off? Had she? Did Belle think scruffy, intelligent, piercing-eyed Brits just grew on trees?

“Aye. Just not meant to be.”

The smart thing would have been to leave it alone. Change the subject right quick, and then get all the details off Ruby later. Emma Swan was not all the smart.

“So it was a mutual decision, then?”

At this, Killian made a noise. A not exactly kind of noise. “It was mutual in that she pointed out, quite rightly, that she could do a lot better than a guy who’s completely hung up on his flatmate. And I agreed.”

If there was any oxygen left in that room, it sure didn’t feel like it. Emma felt dizzy. Lightheaded. He didn’t- He couldn’t-

“You’re hung up on Ruby?” she managed, her jokey tone taking a brittle turn half way through.

“Don’t you know, Emma?” he said, reaching across to take her hand in his.

It was everything she’d ever wanted, and also everything she was deathly afraid of, all in one innocuous gesture. She wanted to throw up. Or cry. Mostly cry. She settled for keeping her hand steady, even as he drew it up to his mouth. Even as he pressed his lips to the skin above her knuckles. Even as every cell in her body turned to liquid.

“Me?”

He was still holding her hand when he smiled again, his thumb rubbing small circles into her palm. “Aye, love. It’s always been you.”

“Always?”

“Well, at least since the first time I accidentally drank one of your fancy beers, and you nearly took my head off. Or the time you forgot your towel coming out of the bathroom. That was also a particular highlight.”

Stupidly in love with him or not, he still got a whack on the arm for that. And it was just that little shot of normality that gave Emma the courage to form her next words.

“You’re not kidding about this? I mean, you’re serious. About us?”

“Deathly serious. And I know, I know I should have said something sooner, but you always had some perfectly average bloke hanging around, and I figured you weren’t interested. And when I met Belle at the library I thought you were still with that Walsh fellow and-

He didn’t get further than that. Not with Emma’s hands rough on his collar, dragging her towards him. It was bad enough she’d practically climbed up onto the table to eliminate any remaining space between them, but he didn’t seem to mind, not when she ducked her head and kissed him for all she was worth.

Three years was a long time to think about kissing someone. Emma had plenty of ideas up her sleeve.

When they did eventually break apart, breaths ragged and Ruby’s excitable squeals kind of ruining the mood, she stayed close, her forehead pressed to his.

“You’re not gonna hurt me, right, Jones?”

“Are you kidding, Swan? Ruby would kill me if I did.”

The both looked across to where Ruby stood by the stove, her FaceTime conversation with Dorothy still in progress, a smug smile pasted across her face. “Yep. What he said.”