#like it's been quiet on ao3 front for MONTHS and now 4 kudos over the day? who was that. let me kiss ya on the cheek mwah | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

princessvicky01 · 6 years ago

Text

Cake and Cuddles

Part 10 - The final chapter! This ends my OTP epilogue for Cullen x Annabel post trespasser and has been an emotional journey. For those who have read and left comments/likes/reblogs/kudos - thank you so much, you really don’t know what it means to have your encouragement.

Summary (SFW): It’s Cullen’s birthday, and what better way to spend it then with his family? The Dad!Cullen domestic fluff we’ve all been waiting for. Enjoy!

Click for: Whole story on AO3 or Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

And just in time for the end of @cullenappreciationweek 2019!

Cake and Cuddles

It’s far too quiet.

Annabel frowns as she slips her jacket off. Worry and suspicion bicker for her attention as she climbs the steps, listening carefully for any telltale cries or screeches that she usually received on her return.

When Cullen hadn’t met at the gate, she wasn’t overly surprised. He must’ve had his hands full without her around, and she never could quite shake the pang of guilt that leaving her family behind brought with it. The fading sun’s rays now pave her way back to them with a welcoming orange glow, and warm eagerness begins to replace her trepidations.

Maker, but she had missed them. It had only been just over a week, but it had felt like a lifetime. No doubt her weary husband would agree. Smiling to herself, she rounds the corner of the steps to be greeted by her boys.

Prince, the great lumbering marabi, and so-called ‘guard dog’ doesn’t even raise an eyebrow at her approach. It seems the boys had thoroughly worn the old dog out, based on his heavy snoring, that continues while Arthur marches a carved pony up the great mountain of the dog’s side, oblivious that his mother was merely a few feet away. A second pony follows, or brave knight, it seemed, as the toys continued their quest along a treacherous path of a snoring mabari’s stomach. Piled either side of Arthur, one sprawled over the dog’s paw while the other lay spread over the floor with a miniature carved dragon still in hand were her little twins, Bryan and Maxwell.

Leaning on the bannister, she spends a few silent moments savouring the sight of them, the rise and fall of her toddler’s chests and the tiny snippets of playful conversation she catches from their big, but altogether still small, brother. Arthur had blossomed in Skyhold, having more attention, more care and more adventure than any young boy could ever wish for. As she watches, he suddenly exclaims something in gibberish, then reaches over to grab a report. It’s then that she spies the sprawled line of paperwork between his play area and her desk. Ah. So, the picture wasn’t quite so perfectly innocent after all.

Time and time again he’d been told to leave the desks and paperwork alone, and yet he seemed drawn to them with an endless fascination of putting chalk and ink to paper. The smile on her lips becomes slightly crooked, it seemed little Arthur was a perfect combination of her and Cullen, free-spirited but still with a love for paperwork. In fact, she had already requisitioned a bespoke miniature desk for him so he could ‘help’ by practising his letters and doodling on paper that didn’t contain important military secrets.

All but chuckling to herself, Annabel decides to intervene, it’s only then that she realises she can, in fact, hear two distinct snores. Twisting, she spies Cullen, sprawled over the small sofa, flat on his back, with a children’s book loosely held in one drooped hand while the other wraps over his latest prized possession. Baby Rose.

The young babe, just under four months old, had nestled against her father’s chest, head resting right over the beat of his heart, and it seems that Cullen has never slept more soundly. Drawn to the tiny buddle, Annabel crouches by their side, carefully taking the ��tale of the stubborn druffalo’ out of Cullen’s hold, making fingers twitch, ever alert, even when exhausted and lost deep in the Fade.

“Mama!!!”

The overly zealous shout wakes Cullen with a jolt, the baby griping in compliant as her pillow shifts under her, thankfully he has just enough sense to stop himself bolting upright and disturbing her completely. It had taken him hours to get her to sleep, as it had every evening that Annabel had been away, the infant finding sparse comfort against the relatively hard planes of his chest. Those trials were over now though, his bleary eyes catching sight of his radiant wife as she catches Arthur’s bear hug and squeezes him so tight he erupts in a fit of giggles.

Another snuffled complaint from Rose sounds, and he can already tell that’s it, the peace has been broken, and she begins to wail, but still, he couldn’t be happier.

“Annabel… I… What time is it?” Shuffling more upright he shushes the babe against him, but it’s no use, her tiny fists have already drawn tight as she demanded nothing less than everyone’s full attention.

Scuffing up her son’s dark mop of curls, Annabel dismisses his worry, then gestures to hold the baby, something Cullen feels rather guilty of being so relieved to see. Between the four of them, he’s not sure he’s had a moment’s peace since she’d departed, if it wasn’t Arthur trying to climb the battlement walls it was the twins squabbling, or Rose crying to be nursed. She had not been impressed by the milk Annabel had left behind. She’d thrown a tantrum at the bottle and refuse to quiet for anything but her favourite lullaby. That had made for an interesting war room meeting…

Suddenly Arthur is climbing to sit beside him, legs swinging as his brother’s take their turn at getting rather more subdued affection, rubbing puffy eyes and nuzzling against their mother’s side with loose grips around her waist.

“It’s time for bed,” she rocks the whimpering baby one-handed against her chest, the other prising that damn wooden dragon from Bryan’s grip. “Come on now.”

Cullen almost sighs in blessed relief. Oh, Maker only knows he loved his children more than anything, but taking care of four alone had proven to be the greatest challenge of his life. Of course, the other advisors and staff had helped out during the day, but every morning and night had been a battle to rise and settle them.

Slowly rising, Annabel has to wriggle her son’s hold free, and as Bryan begins to snuffle a cry, Cullen wraps him and his brother up into his arms to hold one on either hip. Arthur meanwhile has already scampered off, seemingly full of boundless energy, he proudly fetches some papers that look distinctly like the reports Cullen had spent the afternoon writing.

“Look, I helped Papa, just like you said. See,” eagerly he presents the ruined document with bright blue eyes which are the very picture of Annabel’s.

“Arthur,” Cullen’s tone verges on stern. “What did we tell you about not touching the papers on the grown up’s desks?”

Annabel raises an eyebrow and refuses to come to her son’s aid as he peers up at her.

“But it wasn’t on the desk! Honest, Prince knocked them all on the floor,” he points with a stubby finger at the hound who finally decides to wake up with a mighty yawn and little wag of his tail. “And I…” the child falters under his parent’s scrutiny, eyes eventually ending up on the floor. “…I just wanted to help. Like you said.”

Much like his mother, Arthur was impossible to stay mad at, and Cullen merely gives a resigned sigh. “Alright. Next time just check before you start helping, please.”

The boy nods and is playfully shoved forward by his mother. “Bed. Now. It’s Papa’s birthday tomorrow, and I’ve got lots planned.”

“Oh, really?” Cullen raises a smirk and a questioning eyebrow, his toddlers already sleeping against him.

“Yes,” Annabel nods, hand still urging Arthur forward least he forget the task. “But all of you only get your goodies if your well behaved.” Now it’s her turn to give a playful little smirk. “Now, bed.”

The family shuffles its way downstairs, the boys bedrooms and a small play area had been built into the once wasted space beneath the Inquisitor’s chamber and had proven to make the ideal nest for the family. Provided no more surprise children came along that was.

It’s a struggle to keep his eyes open, his heavy lids blinking as he watches Annabel nurse their little girl. Just how had he ended up so blessed? When Annabel places her in the cot, the babe settles without compliant, and Cullen finds himself wearing a humble smile as he continues to study his wife. He must have dozed off because the next thing he knows Annabel is curling up against his side, and the telltale nudge of her feet sneaking to slip between his for warmth pulls him back from the edge of the Fade. “I missed you…” voice croaky and broken, he plants a kiss against the top of her head, resting there to soak in the scent of her.

“I missed you too,” her finger traces circles over his heart. “All of you.”

Sluggishly Cullen opens his eyes to be greeted by sunlight. He hums as he rests his lids once more, he can’t remember the last time he’d woken so late or feeling so revived. The room is peaceful with nothing but a light breeze dancing across his chest, and it takes but a moment for concern to fully wake him.

Silence? That really was a worrying novelty when you had four small children.

Sitting up, he finds only crumpled sheets and a scruffy note on Annabel’s side of the bed. Blinking away the Fade, he reads it slowly through the lingering fog of sleep.

‘Thought you’d earned a rest, Birthday Boy. I’ll be with the children in the garden. Come join us when you’re ready, but don’t take too long - birthday surprises await! Annabel x

He smiles softly to himself and lays his head back on his pillow. He’d always been an early riser, but right now, ten more minutes of peace sounded perfect. He ponders briefly on just what she meant by ‘surprises’, instantly he hopes for cake, and perhaps some time for them alone, although right now he would gladly welcome languid cuddles in front of the fire. And that is the image he takes with him back into the Fade.

“Papa!”

Strolling in his casual wear down to the garden the shout catches Cullen’s attention along with it’s high pitched chortling. Pausing at the bottom step, he spies Annabel sat on the grass with her back to him, the twins by her feet and a dark-haired stranger holding his daughter.

“Papa, look!”

He doesn’t know the voice, but vaguely recognises the small red-haired girl it belongs to as she rushes over with flowers in her hands. When the stranger looks up from the bundle in his arms, Cullen instantly knows it’s the ill-tempered Lord. Annabel’s brother. Is that what she’d meant by surprises? He had rather hoped for something more pleasurable. Although the scowl he remembered Bryan always wearing was gone, replaced by a soft smile that makes him decide to study the Trevelyan’s for a while.

“It’s lovely Evelyn, I’m sure auntie Annabel would love to wear it.”

“No, papa I made it for you!” With innocence and joy, the little girl holds out a scruffy daisy chain, as proud as anyone had ever been.

“Don’t fret, there are plenty for everyone,” Kelandris, his wife, holds out a bunch, already wearing one herself then placing one on little Bryan and Maxwell in turn. The toddlers instantly find their new headwear fascinating, it lasts for all of thirty seconds until they steal each other’s and ruin the delicate chains in the process. They seem happy enough with the flowers though, squashing and throwing tiny petals with glee.

“Ah, I see, in that case,” Bryan tips his head down to his daughters’ level to accept his new crown before rising like a king. “Thank you, my lady.” He nods respectfully as the girl chuckles and climbs into Annabel’s lap to crown her too.

“Plenty enough for you too Commander,” Bryan’s sideways remark catches Cullen off guard. The Lord had given no indication he’d spied him, and in fact, Cullen had expected the opposite given his rather uncharacteristic antics.

Annabel twists, greeting him with a beaming smile and the girl is soon rushing to him with her pink and white daisy chain. “Uncle!”

Crouching, he meets his niece, even still she can’t quite reach his head to place the delicate flowers there, so he boosts her up. She’s very endearing as she hurries back to her mother, and it seems Cullen fits right in as he joins the mini flower festival. Sitting crossed-legged by his wife, he greets her with a fleeting kiss, Maker he had missed those lips, and as much as he might wish to indulge in them further now was not the time. Perhaps that was one of his surprises? That certainly would be much more enjoyable than the company of nobles.

“Bran! Get down from there!”

Cullen instantly knows that voice, it seems to transport him hundreds of miles and decades into the past with its reprimand, back to Honnleath, although he can hardly believe it. Whatever childish reply is made gets lost to the wind, but Mia’s certainly isn’t. “I don’t care what Arthur is doing! If he impaled himself on his blade would you do the same!?”

“Mmm, perhaps we should’ve recruited Mia as our Commander,” Annabel’s teasing quip brings a smile to Cullen’s lips.

“Aww, come on ma’am, I can take it,” Iron Bull’s telltale tenor catches Cullen attention and draws him up to his feet. Just how many people had Annabel managed to gather for his birthday? Any hopes of a lazy day of cake and cuddles were quickly fading. Although the sight of Bull carrying four children off his horns as he charges in with Mia close behind makes up for any disappointment.

Arthur drops from the Qunari with all the boldness of youth, and lands hard but is soon back on his feet, knees grazed and shirt already mud-stained. “Papa!” His joy is bright enough to light up the world as he rushes full pelt to him. “Did you see?”

Hauling him up in both his arms, Cullen swings him around on the spot, his son’s jubilation spreading a broad smile that crinkles at the corners of his eyes. “What’s wrong, huh, run out of trees and walls to climb?” He scruffs up his son’s thick curls before setting him down.

Laughing, Arthur pats the wooden play sword he wears on the belt around his waist. “We challenged him to a duel, and since we won, we got to ride the bull!”

Annabel scoffs back a spluttered chortle at the phrasing which Cullen makes sure to quickly skim over. “You bested worthy opponent indeed, but can you best the Commander of the Inquisition?”

“Or the Inquisitor herself?” Leaning with her hand on one hip Annabel has gracefully perched against his side, where she belonged.

Arthur’s eyes light up, and he nods eagerly. “Yeah! Kids versus grown ups! Kids versus grown-ups!” He declares the chant at the top of his lungs as he pulls his miniature sword free, and his cousins promptly gather around him to join in the rallying cry. Between them all, they had produced quite the brood, and Cullen suddenly feels like his suggestion had perhaps been a bad idea.

“I’ve got cake!” Rosalie’s shout saves the day as she emerges with Branson carrying rolled up picnic blankets. Dropping their swords as one Bran, Julie, Arthur, William and Evelyn all rush over to the goodies, followed by two giddy toddlers who struggle on uncertain legs to catch up.

“Looks like she saved your ass there chief,” Bull mocks before beginning to absently wander towards the gathering. “Hmm, I wonder if she has those little fluffy ones with the pink frosting…”

Cullen shakes his head at the throng of his extended family. Mia naturally takes charge of seating the children while the other adults set out the brunch consisting of tea and cakes. For all the chaos, never had his heart felt so full. The laughter of his children, and his nieces and nephews bringing nourishing joy with it.

Still by his side, Annabel wraps her arm loosely around his waist to rest her head on his shoulder. It seems he would get cake and cuddles after all, but there would be nothing quiet about it. And turns out, that is just how he likes it.

-----

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it, if so likes, reblogs, comments and kudos really do mean alot to us writers and help us keep going!

Can’t believe it’s over... I’ll still write Cullen fanfic, I love him too much to stop, but mostly likely just more one shots.

#cullen rutherford #commander cullen #cullen appreciation week #annabel trevelyan #cullen x annabel #my writing #happily ever after #part 10 #dad!cullen #fluffy fluff #sniffles

40 notes · View notes

frauleinsmaria · 6 years ago

Text

The Facebook Flub (4/4)

Summary: When Emma accidentally sends a friend request to the wrong person, she doesn’t expect much to come of it. But maybe this accident is the best decision she’s ever made.

Rated T

Part 1: AO3 | Tumblr

Part 2: AO3 | Tumblr

Part 3: AO3 | Tumblr

Part 4: AO3

A/N: This is it, folks! I've had so much fun writing this not so little story over the past few months, but it's time we bring things to a close. (Although I would be lying if I said I wasn't already considering revisiting this verse again in the future if that's something people are into because I'm such trash for these two.) A massive thank you to everyone for all the likes, comments, reblogs, kudos, etc. you've sent my way so far. The support has meant so much and motivated me to stick with this when I didn't always feel up to it. I so appreciate everything.

Thanks to @ultraluckycatnd and @thejollyroger-writer for looking over this chapter! Also thank you to my lovely shipmates on Discord and Tumblr for being awesome friends and cheerleaders, you all are fantastic <3

London was cold.

It was the first thing Emma noticed when she exited the plane at Heathrow that afternoon. That, and she’d never seen an airport so busy in her entire life. Not that she expected one of the biggest airports in the world to be quiet and idle two days before Christmas, but the sight of the crowd surrounding her was a bit overwhelming as she tried to navigate her way to baggage claim and then to the waiting area Belle was to meet her at.

Of course Emma had never met Killian’s sister-in-law before, but she’d seen enough pictures of the brunette on Facebook to pick her out in a crowd. Which is what she was attempting to do when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

Startled, she let out a yelp and jumped. The strap of her bag fell off of her shoulder and it tumbled to the ground.

(Hopefully Killian reacted better to surprises than she did.)

Emma turned and saw a familiar looking woman smiling apologetically. “I’m so sorry! I tried calling your name, but I assume you couldn’t hear me over all the noise. I’m Belle.”

“It’s okay, really. You just caught me off guard a bit.” She leaned down to retrieve her bag from where it had fallen, then offered her hand to Belle. “Emma.”

Belle shook her hand, beaming. “Oh, I know. Liam and I have heard so much about you. We’re so glad you were able to come surprise him for Christmas.”

“Thank you so much for coming to meet me, and for being okay with all of this. I know you weren’t exactly expecting me to come hinder your plans at the last minute.”

“It’s no hindrance at all. I’m more than happy to have someone who means so much to Killian here with us. And I just know the kids are going to love you.”

“I’m so excited to meet them.”

Emma followed Belle out of the airport, fighting the urge to grab her arm and cling tight so she wouldn’t lose her in the maze of people. It was a relief when they reached Belle’s car in the parking lot. It was less of a relief when she attempted getting in the right hand seat the first time without thinking twice about it.

“You’re probably regretting associating with the American already.” Her cheeks burned as she walked around the car and took the correct seat.

Belle laughed as she sat down to her right. “It happens more than you think. Killian would probably never tell you this himself, but the first time he drove in the States on a trip with Liam a few years ago, he had no idea it was legal to turn right at a red light. He found out because so many people blew their horns at them when he would wait for the light to turn.”

She felt a bit horrible for laughing. American drivers were vicious on any given day. “I’ll remind myself to never let him drive in Boston if it can be helped.”

Seeing the way traffic operated in London was every bit as fascinating as Emma expected. Or maybe she just didn’t get out enough.

“I’m assuming Killian and Liam are working?” she asked as Belle drove. Killian hadn’t mentioned doing anything out of the ordinary today when they’d spoken on the phone last night. It had been so hard to keep her visit a secret from him since everything had been arranged a few days prior.

“Yes. It’s their last day until the first of January. I almost encouraged Liam to let them off since it’s already the twenty-third, but I figured him having Killian at the office would make it easier for me to pick you up without him finding out. I actually figured we’d go there for you to surprise him since it’s almost quitting time. That way you two can have the rest of the night to yourselves.”

Hearing that made Emma’s pulse do something she was convinced had to be borderline dangerous. She’d assumed Belle would take them to her and Liam’s house and give Killian an incentive to come over after work. But knowing she was potentially minutes away from seeing him, from throwing her arms around him and kissing him like she’d wanted to for weeks was almost overwhelming.

Belle glanced at her after a moment. “You’re being awfully quiet. Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, sorry. It’s just...I really can’t wait to see him. I figured it would be at least several more weeks before we could make it happen again.” She felt tears prick her eyes and laughed as she blinked them back. “You probably think I’m kind of ridiculous.”

“Of course not. It’s like I said earlier, Emma: I’m thrilled that Killian has someone who means so much to him, and that he clearly means as much to you in return.”

The corners of Emma’s mouth turned up. “Oh, he does. He really, really does.”

The moments that followed went by in a haze as Belle parked the car and led Emma into an important-looking office building and onto an elevator that seemed to ascend at a snail’s pace. This was it, but she hadn’t expected to be so nervous. She resisted the urge to bite her nails while she waited for the light to flash on the button for whatever floor Belle was taking them to.

Finally, the elevator doors opened. Belle stepped out into a hallway and gestured for her to follow. It seemed to be a typical office space, all greys and whites in various tones with a few prints of ships hanging on the walls, but Emma was too focused on why they were there to pay much attention to their surroundings.

Belle approached a desk where a redhead sat typing away on a laptop. The woman glanced up and smiled when she saw them approaching. “Hi, Belle! I didn’t know you were coming by today. Would you like me to let Liam know you’re here? I expect they’ll be finishing up for the day soon.”

“Hello, Ariel. And no- well, yes, actually, but could you send a message to Killian first and see if he has a moment? I have a surprise for him.”

Ariel’s eyes shifted to Emma and a look of recognition crossed her face. “Oh! You’re the girl he’s been going on and on about for months! I remember you now from that picture he posted on your birthday when he went to see you.”

Emma didn’t have to ask to know which photo she referred to; it was the one Killian had taken of her in her excitement over the margherita pizza. She somehow hadn’t noticed he’d posted it until he’d gone back to London, and she’d missed him too much to be upset about it. Even if the photo was fairly embarrassing.

But embarrassing photos aside, she was more than ready to see Killian. She was finally in the same place with the man she loved again. He could post all the ridiculous pictures of her he wanted to and she didn’t think it would dampen her mood.

“I’ll see what he’s doing now,” Ariel continued, oblivious to Emma’s lack of response to her previous statement as she picked up her cell phone and typed out a brief message. There were only so many things Emma could focus on at once.

There was a ping when he responded to Ariel just moments later. “Okay! I told him you were here, Belle. He said to come on in his office.” She turned back to Emma, beaming. “I just know he’s going to be thrilled to see you.”

Even though she knew deep down that Ariel was right, Emma found herself second guessing the whole situation as Belle led her around a corner and down another hallway. Would Killian be annoyed that she’d flown over to see him and shown up at his office with no kind of warning? Her stomach churned at the thought. Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea after all.

But Belle didn’t give her a chance to reconsider the matter, stopping abruptly in front of a door with “K. Jones” embossed in the center. She knocked and his “Come in” was almost immediate. Hearing his voice in person rather than from a phone was almost enough to calm Emma’s nerves. Almost.

“I believe I’ll let you do the honors.” Belle gestured to the door, unaware of everything running through her mind.

Before she could second guess herself again, Emma opened the door and stepped inside the office. He sat in a chair behind a desk and had his back turned to her, going through what looked like a file cabinet.

“Give me just a moment to finish filing this paperwork and I’ll be done, love. Say, I’m not complaining, but what made you decide to come see me first? Is Liam in the doghouse?”

“I don’t think so.” Her voice came out a bit raspy and uneven.

Killian froze. He dropped the papers he’d been holding and spun around in his chair. She heard a sharp intake of breath and his eyes widened. Emma watched as he stared at her for a moment, likely wondering if what he saw was real. “Swan?”

“Hi,” she said sheepishly, a hesitant smile on her lips.

One moment he was in the desk chair, the next he was on his feet and kissing her for all she was worth. She swayed a bit from the sudden movement and fisted her hands in the fabric of his white button-down shirt, his hands cupping her face as he reminded her just what she’d been missing these past few weeks.

Emma broke the kiss to come up for air, both breathing heavily and Killian still wearing an expression of disbelief as he pulled her close.

“Swan, what- how are you here?”

“To make a long-ish story short, my friends were tired of hearing me talk about how much I missed you and decided to do something about it.”

Killian pressed another kiss to her cheek and laughed. “Bloody hell. Remind me to overnight your friends a Christmas gift.”

She heard another laugh and they turned to see Belle standing in the doorway with Liam behind her, grins on both their faces. Emma’s face flushed red with embarrassment; she’d forgotten they weren’t alone.

“Oi, something we can help you two with?” Killian scowled, but she could still make out a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Aye.” Liam stepped around Belle and entered the room. “I’d like to meet the lass who’s somehow considerate enough to give my little brother a chance.”

Killian groaned. “Is there any point in me reminding you it’s younger?”

“Nope.”

Emma pulled away from Killian and offered her hand to Liam. He took it but then brought her in for a hug instead. The close contact was unexpected, but it was also a relief. She’d worried for a moment there over what Killian’s brother would think about her coming to visit so last minute, especially when they’d only been together a handful of months and had met under unusual circumstances. Any anxiety she’d held over this trip was quickly being diminished.

Killian pulled her back into his arms as they talked to Liam and Belle for a bit. They discussed the arrangements behind her surprise visit and upcoming plans for the holiday, but she only half listened while Killian nuzzled her ear and kept pressing his lips to her cheek, now unconcerned that they had an audience.

Emma loved getting to meet his family, and she looked forward to spending more time with Liam, Belle, and their kids over the next few days.

But she also loved finding herself pressed up against the front door of Killian’s apartment (flat, whatever) less than an hour later.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered against her neck between kisses. “I can’t believe you’re truly here, Swan.”

She just hummed; since it was about the only noise she could make when he found that one spot behind her ear. “So you...were...surprised, huh?” Damn him and his ability to make her forget how to breathe.

“You have no idea.” He pulled back and paused like he was taking her in, making sure she was really there with him. “I missed you so much, my love.” Emma loved the way the lines around his eyes crinkled when he smiled at her. She wanted to make him smile like that for the rest of her life.

The idea didn’t scare her nearly as much as it would have in the past.

“Even though I don’t store my coffee mugs at a forty-five degree angle and leave my laundry in a heap on the floor until the last minute?” she teased. He’d been slightly horrified to learn the latter during his last visit.

Killian faked a look of disgust and then laughed. “I can’t believe I’m really about to say this, but you can wreck my flat from the inside out this week and I won’t care just as long as you’re here with me.”

��Careful, Jones. That’s a tempting offer you’re making there.”

“Aye. I’m a glutton for punishment, it seems. Shall I give you a proper tour of the place so you’ll know what you’re getting into?”

“Eh,” she sighed, running her hands down his chest. “Maybe later. I’d really just like to see your room right now if I’m being honest.”

“Hmm. What kind of fool would I be to deny such a nice request?”

“A pretty big one.”

Needless to say, the tour was quickly forgotten about. They had too much lost time to make up for.

Emma woke the next morning feeling like she’d been hit by a ton of bricks. She rubbed at her eyes and sat up enough to get a look at the clock on Killian’s bedside table.

8:43. That explained a lot- it was still the middle of the night for her poor, jet-lagged body.

Groaning, she flopped back down onto the mattress, rolled over, and buried her face in his chest.

“Good morning, sunshine.” Emma didn’t have to glance up to know he was smirking at her.

“It’s not even four a.m. in Boston. I deserve, like, ten minutes to be grumpy.”

“Alright, then. I’ll be timing you. You’ve got about nine minutes and eleven seconds at your disposal.”

Emma sat up long enough to lightly whack his chest with the back of her hand. “Smart ass. You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Would I be even cuter if I brought you breakfast and coffee in bed?” Killian asked.

He knew her too well. “For that, Jones, you’d be down right adorable.”

After pancakes and coffee (among other activities that made jet lag more bearable), they dressed for the day and went for a walk. Killian showed her around his neighborhood, which was fully immersed in Christmas preparations. They passed a group of carolers on the street and a family building a snowman in their yard. This prompted him to share every possible Frozen joke he could think of, to which she rolled her eyes at but still laughed. Emma was so ridiculously elated to be there spending the holiday with him, he could share every snowman pun in the book if he wanted to and it wouldn’t change things.

They had been out for a while when snow began to fall. Emma shivered and pulled her thick coat tighter around her, thankful she’d thought to wear it instead of her leather one. What she’d seen of London was gorgeous, but she still stood by her first assessment of the city: it was freaking cold.

“What do you say we come in from the cold for a moment, Swan?” Killian asked. “There’s a cafe just up the road a bit with excellent cocoa and biscuits you might like.”

“You lead the way.”

The cafe was small and cozy, its warmth a welcome change from the bitter chill outside. Killian ordered them hot cocoa and shortbread cookies as promised and they took a table towards the back of the room.

Emma took a long sip of her drink, savoring the taste of the warm, rich chocolate. “So, tell me about this Christmas party. You said it’s at Liam and Belle’s?” They had mentioned something about it to her and Killian at his office the day before, but she’d been too distracted by him to pay much attention.

“Aye. It’s not a large get together, usually just us and a handful of friends. I should probably warn you that Will and Robin are coming.”

She paused, thinking back on a night several months prior. “Will- he’s the one I talked to the night of Liam’s birthday? The first time you called me?”

Killian rolled his eyes. “That would be Scarlet. Bloody wanker he can be. He teased me for weeks after about that, wanting to know who you were and how I’d become so far gone for a woman I’d never met.” His face flushed with color, and she knew it wasn’t because of the hot cocoa.

“I wonder what he’s going to say when said woman shows up at Liam and Belle’s with you tonight.”

He pursed his lips, considering the thought. “Well, my first instinct was to say that he’s going to love you as much as I do. But I’m not sure I truly like the idea of that now that I think about it.”

“Me neither,” Emma agreed. “I only have enough room for one British dork in my life as it is.”

“Hey! I resent that remark.” He tried to feign annoyance with a sour expression, but the hint of amusement in his voice gave him away.

She reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “That’s okay. Just between you and me, I think dorks are kind of hot.”

Killian’s answering smile only confirmed her statement. “And don’t you forget it, love.”

They arrived at Liam and Belle’s just before seven. Killian rang the doorbell, which was soon followed by the sound of squealing and several feet running in their direction.

The door swung open. Emma watched as Killian knelt and a little girl launched herself into his open arms. She had long dark curls that went in every direction possible and eyes that matched her uncle’s.

“Hello, Sophia. Where’s the rest of your crew?”

As if on cue, two more children appeared, a boy with similar features and another girl who shared Belle’s features and red-brown hair. There seemed to be a bit of a competition over Killian. Emma tried not to laugh while the three of them argued over which of them told her boyfriend about their day first and which one of them would get to sit next to him at the dinner table.

“Alright, that’s enough. There’s plenty of me to go around, eh?” Killian extracted himself from the tangle of limbs and stood. He placed a hand on the small of her back and beckoned her to step closer. “There’s someone special I’d like you three to meet.”

“Oh!” The boy spoke up and pointed at the two of them. “That’s right. Mum said you were bringing a girl.”

“Yes, well, your mum is usually right. Sophia, Jacob, and Lucy,” he said, pointing out the kids by birth order to her, “this is Emma.”

Admittedly, this was one of the moments she’d been most nervous about. Sure, she was close with Leo thanks to her being around well before his birth. But he was a toddler. Liam and Belle’s three were older and had a high opinion of their Uncle Killian. There was a chance the same could not be said of the stranger he’d just brought for them to meet.

“Um, hi,” Emma started. “It’s so nice to meet you all. Killian’s told me a lot about you.”

The kids were silent. Emma’s first instinct was to panic; had she somehow said something she shouldn’t have already?

Then the youngest girl, Lucy, spoke up. “You’re pretty. Do you like Moana?”

Okay, maybe this could be easier than she thought. “Thank you. And as a matter of fact, yes. I like Moana a lot.”

Lucy considered her response and nodded. Emma took this to be her seal of approval.

The kids led her and Killian inside, where Liam and Belle were already entertaining a few early guests. Soon, Emma was being led all over the house, first by the kids who wanted to give her the full tour, then by Killian as he introduced her to some of his friends and colleagues.

Meeting Will Scarlet was every bit as interesting and entertaining as she’d expected. The first thing he’d said when he’d noticed her was, “So, you’re the lass who’s made Jones light up like a Christmas tree!”

She couldn’t exactly object to that, especially when Killian’s face reddened just as he shot his friend a death stare.

“It’s okay, babe,” she whispered and stood on her toes to kiss his cheek when Will had his back turned to them. “Just between you and me, Mary Margaret told me after your last visit that she could tell you and I both were pretty far gone.” Emma wasn’t sure where the random term of endearment had come from. He had his fair share of names for her, ranging from “Swan” to “my love,” but this was the first instance she could remember addressing Killian by something other than his name.

If he noticed, however, he must have approved judging by his answering smile and how he kissed her back, not even caring when Will noticed and wolf-whistled at them.

Emma spent the evening getting to know Killian’s family and friends, being entertained by the three children, and eating her weight in the Christmas cookies Liam and Belle had made. (And earning confused looks from the kids every time she said “cookies” instead of “biscuits.” Some habits couldn’t be changed overnight.)

It was well after midnight by the time she and Killian arrived back at his apartment. Emma only had enough energy to trade her sweater and jeans for his faded Han Solo t-shirt before going straight to bed. She clearly needed more experience when it came to crossing time zones over the holidays.

The sound of Killian’s voice came far too early the next morning. “Rise and shine, Swan.”

Emma rolled over and snuggled into his side. “Mm. How long until we need to be ready to leave?” She and Killian were to have Christmas brunch with his family as Liam and Belle usually celebrated over dinner with her parents.

“A little over an hour. The restaurant isn’t far from here, so I assumed there was no need to wake you any earlier.”

“My hero.” She scooted up the mattress and pressed her lips to his. “Merry Christmas, Killian.”

“Merry Christmas, my love. I know I’ve said it multiple times since you arrived, but I’m so bloody thrilled to be here with you.” The look on his face when he said the words, eyes soft and smile bright, made Emma think Will hadn’t been too far off with the Christmas tree comment.

“Me too.” She kissed him again, this time trailing her lips across his neck and jawline. “Although I do kind of wish you’d woken me up earlier.”

“And why is that?”

“Because now I don’t have time to show you just how thrilled I am to be here.”

Killian was quiet for a moment. “Eh. Perhaps it will be alright if we’re a few minutes late.” A few minutes turned out to be well over twenty. They showed up to brunch red faced, Killian’s hair messier than usual and Emma adjusting the collar of her blouse to make sure that one spot on her neck wasn’t visible.

Liam raised his eyebrows at the two of them when they took their seats.

“Traffic,” Killian answered the question not asked as he picked up a menu, he and Emma both refusing to meet anyone’s gaze.

But of course eight-year-old Sophia was smarter than they gave her credit for. “What traffic, Uncle Killian? Your flat is only a few minutes from here.”

Neither he or Emma could think of anything to say until the waiter brought their drinks.

The rest of the day after brunch was spent like much of their time together, on Killian’s couch watching Netflix. She had chosen Jane the Virgin as their latest show to try a few weeks earlier. They were now about halfway into season two.

“I think this is a new record for us,” Emma told him. “I’ve been here almost two days, and we’re just now watching something.”

“Would this be an appropriate time for me to drop a cheesy pick up line and say you’re all the entertainment I really need?”

“That’s almost cute, but I’m pretty sure pick up lines aren’t all that necessary if you’re already dating the person you’re using them on.”

“I suppose you’re right, love. I’ll just have to save that one for the other women I’m trying to pursue.”

She should have known he would have a response that like that ready. “Huh. In that case, I guess I need to keep my options open. Didn’t you say Will was single?”

“Bloody hell. I take it all back.”

It wasn’t until later that night when they had started getting ready for bed that Emma remembered the small box she’d tucked away in her suitcase just before leaving Boston. “Killian?”

He glanced up from the bathroom sink where he stood brushing his teeth. How she could still be so attracted to a man when he had toothpaste on his mouth and chin, she would never know. “Yes, love?”

She sat down on the bed and turned the box over in her hands while she waited for him to finish up. “So,” she began when he took a seat next to her, “I know we unofficially decided not to do gifts since it looked like we wouldn’t be seeing each other around Christmas. But I’d had this for a few weeks and was going to give it to you the next time you came to Boston. And since I ended up coming to see you first, I figured there was no point in waiting.”

Emma placed the box in Killian’s open hand. She watched as he removed the lid and held up the small silver object, his brow furrowing before realization set in. “Is this what I think it is?”

“Yeah. It’s for my place. I know it’s not much, but I thought it might be good for when you come visit and I’m working or something. You wouldn’t have to borrow my key or wait around for me to go out.”

Killian kissed her instead of responding. (He was good at that. And kissing in general.) He pulled her onto his lap and his hands went to her waist, holding her anchored against him as he chased her lips with his until she forgot how to breathe.

“I’m taking that as a good sign?” she panted when they were forced to come up for air.

“Bloody hell. This is incredible, love.”

She shrugged. “I mean, it wasn’t all that difficult. My landlord isn’t super picky or anything.”

“No, I meant the fact that you wanted to do this. It shows that you trust me and our relationship is significant to you. Which are things I knew anyway, but it means quite a lot to me that you’re willing to take a step like this, even if we are apart more often than not. So thank you, Swan. Truly.”

Emma didn’t think she’d ever be as adept at giving romantic speeches as him. “You’re welcome. So you’ll kiss me like that again if I get you a key to my car too?”

But sarcasm? Yeah, she had zero deficiencies there.

After Christmas, they had three days together before Emma’s flight back to Boston. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone so many days in a row without working, and her bank account would likely show the results of that when she returned home. But even if she had to work more and spend less on take out over the next few weeks, it was worth it.

Killian made it a point to ensure she got the full London tourist experience during her time left. This included visits to see Big Ben, Buckingham Palace, Millenium Bridge (she couldn’t not see something that had been featured in Guardians of the Galaxy), Abbey Road, Platform 9 ¾, and at least a dozen other sites she’d lost track of by the time the week ended.

“I have to admit, all this makes me feel like I’ve done a poor job at showing you around Boston so far,” she told Killian on her last night in the city. He had taken her to Covent Garden, where they’d wandered around a handful of shops and eaten dinner in one of the pubs where she had her first experience with fish and chips.

Of course he objected to her comment. “Our time together in Boston has been a bit more limited so far. I’ve seen what’s truly important,” he said, shooting her a wink. “Besides, that just gives us something to look forward to next time.”

Next time. Emma had no idea just when that next time would be, but just hearing him mention it lightened a weight on her shoulders she hadn’t realized was there. Maybe they would get to see each other again sooner than she’d anticipated.

It took longer than usual to say goodbye at the airport. Every time she thought they were ready to let each other go, one of them would duck back in for another kiss that would be longer than the last. It wasn’t until a random passerby called “Get a room, lovebirds!” that Emma knew she really did have to go.

With a reluctant sigh, she pulled her bag onto her shoulder. “I guess it’s time to get this show on the road.”

“You’ll let me know once you’ve returned home safely?” Killian asked.

“Of course. I love you.”

“And I you, Swan. So much.”

Emma only allowed herself to give his hand a squeeze before turning to leave. She’d never make it on the plane otherwise.

The distance between them felt more bearable in the weeks following her visit. The time difference and their conflicting schedules were still hindrances at times; that was a given considering the circumstances. But thankfully, the first of the year brought a bit more predictability to Killian’s work obligations, allowing their nightly calls and regular Netflix marathons to resume with a bit more ease.

She’d insisted they not do anything for Valentine’s Day; the whole concept had become a consumeristic trap, and didn’t they know each loved the other without gifts and celebrating?

This didn’t stop Killian from having a box of her favorite bear claws delivered to her office that afternoon, though. And maybe she’d arranged for him to receive an apple pie at work she thought was comparable to Mary Margaret’s.

(Killian made the comment afterward that food and Netflix had all but become honorary members of their relationship. It was hard to disagree with that.)

He surprised her in early March by announcing via FaceTime that he had another business meeting in Boston at the end of the month if she would be up for a visitor.

“I think that could be arranged,” she’d told him. “I’ll have to remember to restock on baking ingredients. We never got around to making cupcakes the last time you were here. You know damn well what I meant,” she added when his eyebrows shot up.

Killian’s third visit was shorter than the first two; he arrived on Thursday evening for a meeting on Friday and would be flying back to London on Monday morning. She didn’t dare complain, though. Two full days with him sounded incredible after over three months had passed since she’d left London.

Emma couldn’t help but notice that he seemed antsy that Friday morning. In between getting dressed and ready for his meeting, he paced around her apartment in circles, and was so distracted that he put on two different socks but didn’t notice until she pointed it out to him.

“Everything okay, babe?” She paused in the middle of her own morning routine and walked over to where he now paced back and forth across the kitchen.

“Of course, Swan. Why do you ask?” He answered his own question as he asked it by tapping his right foot anxiously.

“Don’t give me that, Killian. I’m starting to think I need to ask who you are and what you’ve done with my boyfriend.”

“Saying I’ve had too much caffeine this morning won’t suffice, will it?”

“Not a chance.” She considered the brief amount of information she’d heard about his and Liam’s efforts to bring their company to Boston. Apparently expanding a business was much more complicated than it sounded, and things were still in the beginning stages. “Are you worried about this meeting?”

“Aye,” he admitted. “There’s just a lot we have to cover today- nothing bad, per se. I just know it’s going to be complicated and will take a lot of time to sort out.”

It was times like this that made Emma feel grateful that she was her own boss most of the time. “Well, I don’t know much about how business deals go. But I do know you’re going to kick ass just like you do with everything else, and then after, you get to be stuck with me for the next day and a half. We can finally get around to making those cupcakes.” She let Killian make his own interpretation on what kind she referred to.

This got a smile out of him. “Thank you for the reminder, love. It’ll do me well to think on that if things become tedious.”

“Cupcakes do make everything better.”

The meeting went well from what she heard. Killian wasn’t too concerned with discussing it afterward, instead wanting to focus on the time they had left together. After a weekend full of cupcakes (of multiple kinds), she dropped him off at the airport with a reluctant goodbye and a promise that he’d try to visit again soon. After all, that thorough tour of Boston she’d wanted to give him still had yet to happen.

But over the next two or three weeks, Emma picked up on a subtle yet noticeable shift in him. Their conversations and time spent together still happened with the same frequency, but he seemed more distant, only wanting to talk about what happened during her days and barely glossing over his own. Other than brief mentions of his friends or family when he spent time with them, she had little knowledge of what else he was doing.

“It’s not like I expect a full account of every part of his life,” she told Elsa over the phone after a particularly limited conversation on his part. “I know he loves me and wouldn’t do anything hurtful behind my back, but I just feel like there’s something he’s not telling me. It seemed like he was only half paying attention to anything on the phone just now.”

“Have you discussed any of this with him?” Elsa asked.

“Well, no.” She felt slightly immature for it, but she’d wanted another person’s input to see if she was just overreacting or seeing something that wasn’t there.

“He needs to know how you’re feeling, Emma. I know you don’t need me to tell you how crucial communication is in relationships, especially in circumstances like yours. You don’t want this to go disregarded and create a rift between you two when you’ve already got an ocean doing that.”

Elsa was right: everything she told Emma was information she already knew. But it took hearing it from someone else to get the boost of courage she needed to finally confront the matter.

She called Killian back not five minutes after she’d hung up with Elsa. It was late in London, but she guessed he would still be awake based on the brief time that had passed since their earlier conversation.

“Swan? Everything alright?”

“What aren’t you telling me, Killian?”

“I- come again, love?”

“There’s something going on I know you aren’t being honest with me about. I’m not accusing you of anything or saying you’ve lied to me, but you’re holding something back.”

A pregnant pause passed between them. Emma quickly wondered if she’d made a mistake by bringing any of this up.

After a moment, Killian sighed reluctantly. “Aye, love. You’re right. I haven’t been entirely forthright with you as of late. The truth is, there’s been some development since that last meeting I had in Boston that I wasn’t sure I should mention just yet, although you’re causing me to realize that was a mistake on my part.”

She wasn’t sure whether this was what she’d expected to hear. What would be going on within his job that he would be hesitant to talk to her about?

“It’s about the company’s expansion,” he answered when she asked him as much. “The first time Liam mentioned it, I thought he was joking, but I’ve been proven wrong. He’s suggested that, should everything turn out as we’re hoping, I consider taking over the Boston office.”

“Would that mean…?” she trailed off, knowing the question didn’t have to be finished.

“Yes, it would require me to move. The only reason I hadn’t discussed it with you yet was on the chance something fell through.”

“Do you know what the chances would be of that happening?”

“Honestly, it’s doubtful. Nothing has been signed or set in stone just yet, but Liam and his colleagues from Boston have already made their decisions.”

Emma struggled to find words. Part of her had always hoped something like this could happen, she realized. She just hadn’t expected for it to happen so soon. “And what exactly is your decision? You’d be leaving a lot behind, Killian.”

“I know. My family and friends are here. But you’re not.”

She recalled him saying on his first visit to Boston that he had little tying him down back at home. That still didn’t stop her from asking, “Are you really sure, Killian? I don��t want you to do something you regret on account of me.”

“Emma, I love you. You’re my best friend, you’ve brought me more happiness over the past year of knowing you than I knew was possible. Of course I like my life here in London, but I’ve given this a lot of thought, and I’m more than willing to take a chance on this if you are.”

If he were there in person, she would have thrown her arms around him and kissed him for all he was worth. “I think I would be crazy not to.”

Less than two weeks later, it was made official and papers were signed, making Killian the head executive for the Boston branch of Ship Shape. There was still a long road ahead of them- setting up the new offices and making his transatlantic move wouldn’t be quick processes- but it made little difference to Emma at the end of the day. They were getting closer to being in the same place, in the same time zone, and that was all either of them really cared about.

Killian’s birthday came and went in mid April without much fanfare. The legal and technical requirements he was trying to complete in order to move took up most of his time outside of work, and he seemed to be content without celebrating given the circumstances. Emma wasn’t thrilled considering he’d made such a big deal over her birthday when he visited, but he insisted it wasn’t worth being concerned about.

“Trust me, love, I’d much rather celebrate being on your side of the pond and knowing I don’t have to get back on a plane in three days.”

One of the biggest obstacles standing in the way was Killian finding an apartment in Boston. He’d looked at several buildings online and had gotten in touch with a few landlords to discuss technicalities, but all of them had fallen through for one reason or another.

Emma wasn’t eager to recommend her own apartment complex. The idea of having him so close was nice, but she couldn’t say the same for where she lived and was seriously considering other options herself once her lease ended in a few months. Still, it didn’t stop her from suggesting he stay with her until he found a place he was content with.

“There’s not a ton of space and I’m obviously not the neatest person in the world, but you at least wouldn’t have to wait until you found a place here to move.” It helped that he had already planned to sell his furniture rather than try to bring it overseas and could also avoid having to buy new things right away.

“You’re sure I wouldn’t be putting you out?”

“Of course not. As far as I’m concerned, the sooner we get you moved the better.”

And that was that. A few short weeks later, Killian flew out to Boston, bringing his clothes and the handful of miscellaneous items he’d chosen not to sell or leave behind with Liam and Belle. Emma greeted him with a kiss that could only be described as PDA. Some moments were worth sacrificing her dignity for.

“Welcome home,” she told him in between kisses. His face lit up and made her heart do that thing it always did around him that she still wasn’t sure was normal.

“Swan, I think that’s my favorite thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Rooming with Killian came with a new sense of ease and contentment. It was the first time they’d ever been in the same place without a deadline when one of them would have to leave. That wasn’t to say things were always smooth sailing. She would leave her wet towels on the bathroom floor or he would want her TV remotes ordered by height on the coffee table and one of them would be annoyed at the other for it. But these adjustments came easier for them over time, so much so that Emma had all but forgotten he was still technically looking for his own place.

They discussed it one night after work when he’d been in Boston about a month or so. Killian had been to look at yet another apartment during his lunch break that afternoon with no success. Something always fell through with each he considered: the landlord wanted more per month than was sensible, he would discover maintenance issues with the building after doing further research, disputes with a lease.

“You could just stay here. If you wanted to,” Emma quickly added at the surprised look on his face. “I mean, I know this building isn’t the nicest and it might seem like too soon for me to be making suggestions like that, but you know I love you and things are good so far and- what’s so funny?” She felt equally amused and annoyed when he started laughing.

“Love, do you really think I wouldn’t want to live with you?”

“I dunno. My bookshelves aren’t organized and Pop Tarts make up, like, seventy-five percent of my diet, and I know how you feel about that.”

He considered this idea and then shrugged. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but Pop Tarts could make up eighty percent of your diet and I’d still consider it the utmost privilege to live with you.

“Oh, great. Because I was definitely underestimating with only seventy-five percent.”

Things continued to fall into place with ease. The Boston headquarters of Ship Shape was soon open for business and Killian thrived in his position, just as Emma knew he would. He quickly grew accustomed to the city and fit in well within her family and friend groups, David soon becoming his biggest fan. (“I’m starting to wonder if you love him more than me,” she’d joked with Killian one night after they’d gone to a Red Sox game with him and Mary Margaret.)

Liam and Belle brought the kids to visit over the summer. They had a great time exploring the city as a family, and Emma got to know Killian’s nieces and nephew much better on the few instances they allowed their parents some time to themselves. It was hard for Emma not to imagine what their future looked like seeing Killian care for and entertain the three of them so effortlessly. She was nowhere near ready to consider becoming three instead of two, but the idea didn’t terrify her the way it would have at one time. It actually made her smile instead.

The lease on the apartment ran out in August. Emma knew as soon as she got the notice that they wouldn’t be renewing it. After all, she had planned to consider other options before she’d even thought about asking Killian to move in.

It took several weeks of searching to find a new place, but they soon found an apartment they were more than happy with and moved in early autumn, not long after their first official dating anniversary.

Emma was convinced things couldn’t get any better than they already were. And then they did.

She came home from work one afternoon to find Killian sitting at the kitchen table picking at his nails. He stood when he noticed her enter the room. “Hello, love.”

“Hey. How did the presentation go today?” She’d long since come to accept that she would never make sense of half the things Killian’s company did, but she tried to be supportive and keep up with his current agenda regardless.

“Quite well if I do say so myself. I’m assuming there’s one less bail jumper on the streets of Boston today?”

“You’d assume correctly.” She leaned up to kiss him before depositing her things on the table and walked over to the fridge. “I’m starving. Anything specific you want for dinner?”

“I thought perhaps we might go out tonight.” She saw him type out something on his phone just before hers vibrated from her purse.

“Oh? What’s the occasion?” They had been making more of an effort to cook together since he’d moved in with her. Going out for a meal seemed odd without pretext.

“Check your phone first.”

“Huh?” He was only confusing her more.

“Love, I simply think you should consider checking your phone before doing anything else.”

Both annoyed and apprehensive at his behavior, she did as Killian suggested and saw a notification from Facebook Messenger. “New message from Killian Jones- what is this?”

“Just please read the message, Swan.”

Emma opened the app. The words on the screen were anything but what she expected.

Hey. Sorry if this seems weird, but I was wondering if you would marry me?

She looked up and gasped at seeing him on his knee beside her, holding up a ring box. “I know it’s unconventional, but so is the way we met. I thought I’d take a page out of your book since that worked out so well. What do you say, Swan?”

Emma knocked him over in her attempt to kiss him and they ended up in a tangled heap on the ground.

They had chocolate cupcakes at the wedding.

#cs ff #meredith writes #cs au #cs mc #captain swan #captain swan ff #captain swan fic #captain swan fanfiction

78 notes · View notes

teaplease1717 · 6 years ago

Text

Gosling Chapter 4

Thank you everyone for all your love, comments and kudos! Your support motivates me to keep writing like nothing else! Thank you so, so, so much! <3

I hope you all enjoy this last chapter of straight fluff for day 4 of @bnha-fluff-week. This is technically the final chapter but there will be an epilogue that I post Sunday.

Thank you EmberStork for betaing!

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19251016/chapters/45881560

Chapter 1 Link: https://teaplease1717.tumblr.com/post/185652318716/gosling-ch-1

Chapter 2 Link: https://teaplease1717.tumblr.com/post/185677289231/gosling-chapter-2

Gosling ch 3 Link: https://teaplease1717.tumblr.com/post/185700364591/gosling-ch-3

XXXXXX

In the span of one breath, Midoriya’s face had turned a red so bright he matched Shouto's hair. Kaminari and Jirou looked like they had both been petrified, struck mid-action from Yaoyorozu's answer.

Shouto coughed and turned to stare at her in disbelief. Yaoyorozu’s answer had been innocent. What any three year old would say, but hearing it from her made his stomach knot and his heart palpitate. This must be how a heart attack felt like...

Kyouka recovered first. “Momo-chan we don’t usually say those kinds of things to people.”

Yaoyorozu looked around the table and blinked. “Why?” she asked innocently.

“Well…” Kyouka sputtered. “You usually only say them to the person you love.”

“I love oniisan,” Yaoyorozu said without hesitation, turning to look up at Shouto. His heart stalled. “Oniisan do you not love me?” she asked, with all the tact of a three year old.

Shouto hesitated. He could feel his ears heating up. He was burning, like dry ice had lodged itself in his throat. Freezing and burning him at the same time. What did one say at times like these? If he said he did, would the others misinterpret his response? But she was only a child. It shouldn’t matter, should it? Shouto realized he was taking too long to respond as Yaoyorozu’s face scrunched and water began to accumulate at the edge of her eyes.

“Don’t cry Yao - Momo-chan,” Midoriya jumped in, saving Shouto from the situation even though he was the one blushing more fiercely than anyone at the table. “It’s...It’s just usually you answer that kind of question with what kind of career you want… like to be a hero or a teacher or -” he trailed off.

Momo sniffed, the tears still threatening to fall. Shouto's stomach twisted. He didn't know if he could handle her tears again. What did it say about him if he made her cry twice in less than twenty-four hours? What kind of hero would he be? What kind of friend?

In a split second decision, he held up his hand. Ice began to form in his palm, chilling the air around him.

Todoroki's eyes narrowed as he concentrated on the shape he had practiced a million times.

His ice quirk was destructive; powerful. And for the longest time, Shouto had thought that was enough. That he had nothing else to learn until last year when he almost lost a match due to his inability to refine his power.

He had learned that day that sometimes delicacy was just as necessary to winning as power.

He had since begun the grueling process of honing his quirk. Enlisting Yaoyorozu's help as she understood the complexity of creating details for her own quirk. She had made him practice forming small ice sculptures. It was hard work. His quirk not naturally inclined to the intricate details he needed to perfect. Then, after six months of difficult practice, he finally made his first tangible object.

He thought of that now. As his eyes darkened in focus. The ice forming in his hand slowly twisted and chipped. Tiny particles falling like snow onto the table until a single rose emerged.

It wasn't perfect. The petals weren't detailed and it took incredible effort on his part, leaving him out of breath, but it would do.

Yaoyorozu's eyes widened at the sight and he was reminded of the first time she had seen him get it right. Her face had glowed and her lips had parted in wonder in the same exact way they did now.

Shouto held the rose out to her. Yaoyorozu hesitated before wordlessly accepting the gift. Her tiny fingers brushing his as she took the ice flower with a tiny shiver at the chill of it.

Midoriya let out an audible breath. "Good thinking Todoroki-kun."

Shouto didn't answer as he watched Yaoyorozu turn the flower in her small hands.

"It’s so pretty!" Jirou breathed, looking across the table at him. "I didn't know you could do something like that?"

Shouto shrugged. "I've been practicing."

Midroiya began to mumble under his breath. Analyzing Shouto’s ice abilities and most likely thinking of benefits and countermeasures but it was the last person at the table who caught Shouto’s attention. Kaminari had been unusually quiet during the demonstration.

Shouto’s eyes narrowed wearily, as Kaminari stared at the rose. A thought was developing in his mind, but it was obvious Kaminari wasn’t used to many of those. Then, as if an old car was starting for the first time, a spark crossed Kaminari's face and he lit up in a smile. "Momo-chan do you like heroes?"

Yaoyorozu looked up from the rose and nodded. “Yeah.”

“Did you know only heroes are allowed to do cool things like make ice flowers?”

She shook her head. Her brows pulling together in the endearing way they always did when she was piecing together information.

"Kaminari," Jirou warned. She must have swatted at him underneath the table because the electric hero jumped and turned towards her.

"Relax. I know. I know," Kaminari said, holding his hands up in self-defense. Jirou frowned but leaned back in her chair.

Realizing that he was out of trouble, Kaminari smiled again and turned back to Yaoyorozu. "Did you know your oniisan is a hero?”

Momo’s eyes widened and she swiveled to look up at him. Shouto gave a small nod and her eyes grew bigger. Shouto could feel a flush working its way up his neck but he ignored the feeling as he focused on Kaminari.

“We're actually all heroes,” Kaminari continued, pointing proudly at his chest.

“Really? You don’t look like one,” Yaoyorozu said with all the honesty of a kid as her big, round eyes assessed him with a slight tilt of her head. “How come you aren’t as cool as oniisan?”

Kyouka snorted as Kaminari deflated. “See Yaomomo’s smart even as a kid.”

Kaminari coughed into his hand before letting the comment go as he leaned forward on the table. “Well I’m one of the top heroes around so don’t be judging a book by its cover.”

“As if you’ve ever seen a book,” Jirou sniggered under her breath.

"Ignore Jirou.” He said with a wave of his hand. “What I’m asking is do you want to be a hero like your oniisan?"

Shouto jumped as Jirou pulled her chair back with a loud screech. "Kaminari! You heard Aizawa. We can't let Yaoyorozu use her quirk."

"I'm not -"

"Jirou-san is right. We have to be careful Kaminari-kun," Midoriya added, his eyes clearer than they had been all day at the seriousness of the situation.

Shouto frowned. Yaoyrozu had grabbed onto his shirt when Jirou had stood up and he could feel her tiny body shaking. Shouto put his hand on her back and began to rub small circles to calm her down. It seemed to work as her grip loosened.

"Calm down. It's not like I'm telling her what her quirk is. Besides maybe thinking about heroes will change her back," Kaminari looked between the three teens. "Unless any of you have any better ideas?" He asked exasperated, leaning back in his chair.

A pause hung over the table. Jirou pursed her lips and looked down.

Midoriya frowned. “Jirou-san is everything okay? Did you have an idea?”

Midoriya's question instantly roused Kaminari who whirled around and grasped Jirou’s hands within his own. “What is it Jirou? If you have an idea, share it! We need to save Yaoyorozu!”

Jirou jumped and looked away at some invisible spot on the floor. “Don’t get your hopes up. It’s just what you said made me remember something.”

“What is it?”

Jirou pulled her hands out of Kaminari's and sighed. "Yaomomo's going to be so mad…" she said burying her face in her hands for a second before straightening. "It's the reason Yaomomo decided to become a hero."

Shouto blinked. “The reason Yaoyorozu decided to be a hero?”

He tried to recall if had ever asked Yaoyorozu before. Maybe at the Ennichi festival but he wasn't sure. He had definitely told her his reasoning during one of their practice sessions but couldn't recall if she had said anything.

Jirou played with her earphone jack, twisting it around her fingers nervously. “Do remember that old video of All Might? The phone one! You know the one that's all shaky? I think it came out like thirteen years ago or something.”

Midoriya’s eyes widened. “The one where All Might is carrying people on his back?”

“Yeah, that one,” Jirou nodded. “Yaomomo wanted to be a hero ever since she saw that. So I was thinking if it made such an impact on her back then that she wanted to become a hero maybe…” she let her voice trail off.

Xxxx

That was how all four of them ended back in the living room in front of the TV. Midoriya, no surprise, had saved the clip to his computer and was mirroring the All Might video onto the TV.

Shouto’s breath felt like lead in his lungs. He didn’t know what to expect. A strange feeling had overcome him upon learning that Yaoyorozu had chosen to become a hero because of All Might. He had never doubted that she admired the former number one hero, but somehow learning that All Might was the driving force behind her decision, as he had been for Shouto's own conviction to become a hero, made him feel...happy? As if the distance he had imagined between them was shrinking.

The clip started. At first all you could see was fire and destruction everywhere then a laugh was heard and All Might emerged from the rubble carrying no less than five people. "It’s fine now. Why? Because I’m here."

The clip ended.

Shouto looked down at Yaoyorozu and fought down a smile. She was beaming at the TV with stars in her eyes as if she had just found her passion in life. And he supposed she had.

Yaoyorozu jumped off the couch. "Again!" she cried.

They repeated the clip two times more and then Midoriya started showing her clips of all the other heroes. With each clip, her eyes would grow larger and her face would light up. At the end of the last clip, Midoriya smiled and turned to Yaoyorozu. "Momo-chan, Who's your favorite hero?"

Without hesitation, Yaoyorozu turned around and threw her arms around Shouto's leg. "Oniisan." She beamed.

Shouto let out a closed mouth laugh.

Black eyes looked up. "Who's your favorite hero oniisan?" she asked.

Shouto smiled softly. "Momo-chan is my favorite hero."

He had meant it as a joke but didn't realize how true the words were until they left his lips. And he didn’t mean just as a hero, she was his favorite classmate and friend. Someone he could always rely upon and trust. Someone who made him happy by just being in her presence. And then, as if in a movie, he felt like he had been hit in the head and it all made sense. The palpitating heart, the purposeful forgetfulness to bring his books to class, Bakugo's comment... He was in love with Yaoyorozu.

Shouto froze at the revelation, but if anyone noticed his sudden stiffness they didn't let on as Yaoyorozu let go of his leg and twirled away. "Oniisan and All Might are the top two heroes. Who's your third favorite hero Midoriya-oniisan?"

Midoriya opened his mouth and then seemed to realize what Yaoyorozu's question had been and flushed. "Third favorite?" He asked flustered.

Yaoyorozu frowned and placed her hands on her hips. "You don't know?"

"Come on Midoriya. This should be easy," Kaminari jeered. Midoriya went red and suddenly the knowledge that he was falling in love didn’t matter anymore as Shouto laughed at his friend’s obvious distress.

He didn’t know when it had started and perhaps it didn’t matter. It was as if all the signs had been pointing to his feelings for his classmate but he had been too blind to realize it. Too dense to notice that below their different upbringing they were so similar. He didn't know what to do with the information but he had never been one to dwell on things he couldn't change. So he concluded he'd do what Yaoyorozu had said she admired about him and improvise a solution later.

Aizawa arrived shortly after with bento boxes made by Lunch Rush, the chef hero. As the class sat down for dinner and Yaoyorozu animatedly told the table about how she was going to become the best hero, Shouto couldn't remember a time he had felt happier.

By the time they were done Yaoyorozu was beginning to fall asleep. It had been a long day and with a quick goodnight Shouto carried her to his room. He helped her change into one of his larger shirts (in case she transformed back during the night).

Yaoyorozu yawned as she crawled into bed. “Oniisan I love you.” she mumbled.

Shouto didn't fight the smile as he pulled the sheets back and got into bed next to her. He briefly wondered if he should make her a separate bed but gave up on the idea as soon as he thought it. He was too tired and it would be too much of a hassle. Instead, he positioned himself on his side and pulled Yaoyorozu into his chest.

He could feel Yaoyorozu's smile through his shirt. She looked up into his face. Her eyes were already starting to drop with sleepiness but she blinked to try and stay awake. “When I'm big are you going to marry me?” she asked. Her mouth was set in a determined line Shouto was more used to seeing on her older self when challenging a teacher's answer.

Shouto chuckled. “First we'd have to date.”

“So you are going to date big me then.”

“Only if big you wants me to.”

“Why wouldn’t big me want that?”

Shouto sighed. “It’s complicated. I might hurt you.”

Yaoyorozu frowned. “No you wouldn't. I'm a hero. I save people so you can't hurt me.”

Shouto paused, tucking her head underneath his chin. As much as he had decided earlier in the night that he liked Yaoyorozu, he had no idea if that was the right thing. He had never known a stable relationship. His mother's tear stained face flashed through his mind and Shouto gave Yaoyorozu a small squeeze. "Sometimes even heroes get hurt or hurt the people they love."

"Is that how you got your eye boboo?"

Shouto's eyes widened. He could almost laugh as he brought a hand up to cover his scar. Trust Yaoyorozu to be able to read him so easily. He closed his eyes and had to swallow twice before he could speak again. "Yeah…"

A light touch pulled Shouto's hand away and Shouto opened his eyes to find Yaoyorozu staring up at him, her large black eyes dark with emotion. "You won't hurt me because you are my oniisan." She said so resolutely that Shouto could almost believe it. She smiled and leaned in to kiss his scar with a quick peck. "There! All better." She said leaning back to look at his face. "It..it doesn't hurt anymore does it?" She asked.

Shouto shook his head at her concern. "No it doesn't."

"That's good," she gave him a small, soft smile and something about it reminded him of the Ennichi festival. "And you know, big me is still me and I love you so big me will love you too. And if you make a mistake I'll forgive you!"

Shouto swallowed. "Ahh, I see. Then I'll do my best."

"You promise?"

"I promise." Shouto smiled.

"You have to pinky promise otherwise you won't do it." She held up her hand and Shouto let her loop her much smaller pinky around his. "Now. Take a picture otherwise it didn't happen." Shouto's eyes widened but shaking his head he did what he was told and picked up his phone from his bedside to take a quick picture of their interlaced fingers.

It seemed to satisfy her as she let go and immediately snuggled into Shouto's chest.

"Oniisan?" Shouto made a small sound to let her know he was listening. "Will you get me more soba? I liked it."

Shouto smirked, tucking her head under his chin and giving her a small squeeze. "Sure."

XXXXX

Light streamed through the window landing in rays of soft yellow on obsidian hair.

Momo scrunched her eyes and buried herself further into the warmth wrapped around her. It was too bright. She must have forgotten to pull down her blackout curtains before falling asleep.

Something moved and wrapped itself tighter around her waist.

Momo's eyes snapped open.

The first thing she noticed was that she was in a bed that wasn't her's. The second was that she was lying almost on top of a man.

Momo's heart began to thump so loudly she could barely hear herself think. She tried to pull back but the arm around her waist tightened. "Just a few more minutes Momo-chan. It's still really early," the voice she would know anywhere grumbled, pulling her back into his chest.

Momo's heart paused, all the blood in her body rushed to her face and she turned beet red. What was going on? What was she doing in Todoroki-san's room? In his bed? And was it just her imagination but had Todoroki-san just called her by her first name?

She couldn't breath. Black spots were starting to hamper her vision. "To...To..Todoroki-san!"

Heterochromatic eyes slid open. Sleep still fogging them as he pulled back just enough to look down at her. "Ah. You're back."

He said it so calmly. So casually. As if it was completely normal to wake up with someone else in his bed. Momo would have screamed if she could but all her brain cells had seemingly fried at hearing his voice.

Then everything went black.

Shouto's eyes widened as Yaoyorozu fainted in his arms but he was still too groggy from sleep to react. He briefly wondered if he should bring her back to her room but a quick glance at his alarm clock showed it was 5am and standard medical training was to keep an unconscious person rested on their side he thought drowsily. So he just wrapped his arm tighter around her waist and went back to sleep. He'd deal with the situation in the morning when he was awake.

XXXXX And that’s a wrap! Thank you everyone for reading and supporting. I know this story was short, but hope you enjoyed the TodoMomo fluff. As I mentioned at the top, there will be a short epilogue that will be out on Sunday.

Thank you again! All comments or constructive criticism

#bnha-fluff-week-2019 #bnha fluff week 2019 #todomomo #My Story #todoroki shouto #todoroki x yaoyorozu #Yaoyorozu Momo

49 notes · View notes

mayquita · 6 years ago

Text

Pictures of Reality (11/16)

Hi everyone! Here we go again. I’d like to express my gratitude to all those who have given this story a chance, thanks for your likes, comments, kudos and reblogs. It means the world to me.

Summary: Emma Swan returns to her birthplace, Storybrooke, in search of a fresh start after a life marked by abandonment and betrayal. After a year there, she finds the stability she needed and also the possibility of learning about one of her passions, photography. Killian Jones, a former British war reporter with a tragic past, establishes himself in the same town as an instructor of photography, following in the footsteps of his best friends, the Nolans. What will happen when their paths cross? Will their common passion for photography help them heal old wounds?

Rating: M (Language, mature themes, implied sex)

Warnings: Alcohol abuse, mentions of the loss of a limb in an armed conflict.

Other ships / Characters: Although, obviously, this is a cs fic, Snowing plays a major role here, mainly David. In fact, the story contains three different points of view, those of Emma, Killian and David. Also, Henry appears in the story as Regina’s adopted son but he is not Emma’s biological son.

Beta: I’d like to express my gratitude, as always, to my beta @jarienn972 I’m aware that you have had to deal with a monster of more than 100k words and English is not my mother tongue, so I value your effort even more.

Artist / art: Go visit @imagnifika’s blog and enjoy her amazing art. The art that accompanies this chapter perfectly captures a decisive moment in the story.

Art for the prologue/ Art for chapter 1 / Art for chapter 2 and banner / Art for chapter 3/ Art for chapters 4-5 / Art for chapters 6-7/ Art for chapter 8 / Art for chapter 10

Special mention to @saraswans , thank you so much for your perpetual support, for believing in me when I doubted myself and for offering ideas to make this story grow.

Don’t forget to go read and enjoy the rest of the amazing csbb stories and art.

Word count: ~ 6400 (116k total in 16 chapters)

Also on (From the beginning): Ao3 / Ffnet (Current Chapter) Ao3 / Ffnet

Tumblr: Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11

What to expect from this chapter? This chapter is going to be a bit intense... for reasons.

CHAPTER 10

My dearest Emma,

I still can't believe that we've finally been able to see you, actually see you, on your twenty-eighth birthday. Perhaps I could have left you this letter right there, along with the rest of the gifts you received on your special day, had the circumstances been different.

Maybe you wonder why, despite having been here for a few months, crossing paths each day with you through the streets of the town, or attending the same place for dinner, we haven't yet approached you. Or why we haven't told you the truth and we settle for observing you from a distance, to at least make sure that you are living the life that you deserve so much and that had been denied to you until now.

Well, maybe the answer is not the most satisfactory for you, or is it just a reflection of our cowardice, and I wouldn't blame you for thinking like that, but the reality is that the moment we arrived here and Regina told us about your past, we felt completely devastated and consumed by guilt.

Believe me, sweetheart, if we had the certainty that our confession would serve to alleviate your sorrows, we would willingly have bared our souls in front of you, although it would likely have meant that we would lose you forever.

But considering your traumatic experiences that have led you to run on more than one occasion and the history of abandonment and betrayals that you have suffered, we didn't want to risk ruining your life once more. I couldn't bear that because of our fault, you might lose everything you've achieved since you return to Storybrooke.

Because, as I see it from outside, you have become a strong and brave woman, ready to pursue your goals. You're also a caring person with the people you feel comfortable with, like Ruby, Graham, or Henry. And you have achieved all this without our help, so, if for you to maintain stability in your life we must stay away, so be it.

In addition, irony, or perhaps destiny, has decided to give us something beautiful and promising. We learned just yesterday that you will be one of the people who attend the course that Killian will start teaching in a few weeks.

Our Killian and our daughter, united by their passion for photography. I don't care if it's destiny or a simple coincidence, but the fact that you two are going to meet under such circumstances was unimaginable until a few weeks ago and now it has become a reality. You and Killian are going to cross paths and, fortunately, we are going to witness it even from the distance.

Who knows? Maybe Killian finds that hidden gem, that talented person that he always seeks, someone whom he can help develop full potential. Maybe I'm totally biased here, but I'm hoping it's you. Either way, you are already a gem for us, even though we aren't yet able to prove it to you.

Maybe some day...

Until then, your father who loves you and never forgets you,

David.

Emma Swan. Storybrooke - February 26, 2018

When Emma woke up that Monday, the light had barely begun to filter through the window of her bedroom. Still reluctant to get up and continue with her morning routine, she snuggled up between the sheets and let her thoughts wander for a while, bringing to mind the memories of the previous day.

Yesterday…

Emma had learned about Killian's birthday through his friends. The information had also come with a warning. He did not celebrate his birthday since his brother passed away. Even so, they always managed to spend the day with him and they hoped that this time she would join that kind of non-celebration.

Again, that feeling of belonging that was becoming habitual since she came to Storybrooke, settled in her stomach, spreading a warm feeling all over her body. Even so, she also felt some hesitation, not quite sure how to act in front of Killian, wondering if it was more appropriate to continue to respect his wishes or on the contrary, to subtly encourage him to move on with small details like being with him on that day or offer him a small gift.

The talk a few days ago with Mary Margaret had allowed her self-confidence to take hold, so she decided to let herself go, loosening the control she used to have over everything and instead be attentive to the little hints she would find along the way that would help her to follow the correct direction.

It was like that, quite literally, as she found the perfect gift for him. She was walking towards Killian's apartment when her gaze caught something that made her stop short in front of the pawn shop window. Right there, as if it were calling her, she found a vintage photo album bound in leather, with a small message engraved on the cover — ‘Collect Beautiful Moments’. That album definitely had Killian’s name on it so, without thinking twice, she went into the store and acquired it, writing inside a personalized note with the aim of explaining with her own words the symbolism of the present.

Sometime later, while waiting for Killian to arrive, she had a nice time with the Nolans while they showed her old photo albums full of memories. Unlike Christmas, she did not feel like an intruder at a family event, but rather included, as if she really belonged there, with this unconventional family, with these friends who really acted as proud parents of their son while offering to his girlfriend some embarrassing details of his youth, or remembered all the experiences they had lived together.

Although she longed to know more about Killian, to know everything about his origins, and she was more than grateful with the Nolans for offering her these happy glimpses of his past, she could not help feeling a little thorn in her heart since, again, she had to settle for witnessing the happiness of other people, while the craving to experience something similar washed over her.

Her mixed feelings faded into the background the moment she noticed Killian's presence. She had been so engrossed in the conversation with the Nolans and in her own thoughts that she had not heard him arrive. But now that he was there, everything around them seemed to vanish, her only goal to look up and make sure he was okay with that little surprise.

What she found did nothing but increase the endless feelings that danced within her. She detected how his body was tense although his troubled expression and his stormy gaze quickly morphed to an almost awe expression as his gaze softened when it met hers.

After a tentative first approach, he clung to her, as if he was afraid that she would disappear. Since she was not good with words, she chose to assure him through her acts and her displays of affection that she was not going anywhere.

Killian Jones was a complex man, no doubt, but also a challenge for her in the sense of trying to climb those walls that acted as a barrier and discover the real Killian behind all those layers that covered him. And she was more than willing to keep trying.

The tension did not completely disappear from Killian for the rest of the day. She sometimes detected a glimpse of something akin to resignation, but at least that stormy expression had softened, allowing them to enjoy a quiet and pleasant evening, the four of them together, adding up memories that would be immortalized both in the photographs they took and in her own album of memories that she kept in her heart.

She waited for his friends — maybe now it was appropriate to use the term ‘their’, at least she felt it, she hoped that the feeling was reciprocal — to leave to give him her humble gift since she preferred to do it in privacy, turning it into a moment just for them.

For a moment, she thought she had made a terrible mistake, holding her breath as she watched Killian's reaction intently. He stiffened, holding the object in an awkward way as he stared at her, as if he couldn't believe what was happening.

After those first seconds of shock, his gaze fell on the album while his fingers slid delicately over the leather cover in an almost reverent way. After reading the handwritten note she had left inside, his gaze traveled back to her, staring at her in such a way that her head began to spin, her heart fluttering furiously against her chest.

"Thank you so much, Swan, you didn't need..." He reached up to scratch behind his ear, but his gaze never left hers. "I'm not sure I deserve this." His lips pressed together drawing the ghost of a smile.

She shrugged her shoulders. "It's just a photo album."

"Aye..." Killian remained pensive for a moment, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, "but just for the record, I have every intention of you appearing on all these pages with me."

It was a simple phrase, innocuous enough, but she did not lose the intrinsic meaning. She had offered him the possibility of a future and he was offering her, in return, the possibility of being part of that future. That was the only thing she needed at the moment.

The alarm clock announcing the time to get up got her out of her reverie. Even so, she still remained a while longer in bed, lying on her back with her arms folded and her hands under the back of her head, allowing herself a few seconds more of introspection.

Even though her wounds from the past had not yet healed enough and Killian's still seemed to continue to bleed from time to time, she was going to hold on to any possible future that awaited them together. They were meant to be together, she felt it in the depths of her very soul and she was going to do everything possible to make that happen.

And that began by acting and fighting for what she wanted. And if there was one thing she was sure of, it was that she wanted Killian, the charismatic teacher, the traumatized war reporter, the loyal friend, the glimpses of fiery lover she had gotten.

With a new goal in mind, she hurried out of bed feeling a surge of energy take over her body. She was not going to stand by letting the opportunity pass, she was going to cling to it. And if that meant starting to share breakfast with her boyfriend — yes, boyfriend, she was no longer afraid of that word — as a normal couple, so be it.

Killian Jones. Storybrooke - February 26, 2018

The irony decided to show its face to Killian once more, as if it was laughing at his expense. He remembered having serious difficulties finding an available flight when he had needed to travel urgently because of some unforeseen event. However today, it only took him five minutes to acquire a plane ticket that would take him back to London tomorrow.

The moment his finger pressed the button that would allow him to finish the purchase, a wave of regret seized him. That sinking feeling accompanied him for the next few minutes, when he took the suitcase out of the closet and moved it to his living room.

The purchase of the ticket did not change anything, he could still decide not to take that plane. In addition, it was a round trip ticket with the return scheduled within five days. It was not like he was fleeing forever, he tried to convince himself - without much success, really.

If he himself wasn't convinced, he doubted that he would convince Emma and his friends. With Emma, he would have to resort to a small deception, adding one more weight to the burden of guilt he carried. In regards to David and Mary Margaret, he had decided to tell them that night during dinner.

He expected his friends to understand his reasons. He didn't do it as a desperate measure to force them to confess the truth to Emma, but rather the contrary, to allow them to experience some more time together, getting to know each other more. He only intended to give them more time to figure out how to approach the subject.

The image he had witnessed the day before had pierced his heart. It was undeniable that Emma should know the truth; it was unfair that she was involved in this game of lies. That was what was killing him inside, the helplessness and frustration of being between a rock and a hard place when all he wanted was for the three of them to achieve the happiness that had been denied to them before.

He was aware that he was carrying out an act of cowardice, at least in the eyes of the others, but he felt so pressured that he was no longer sure what he was supposed to do. Should he behave like the honorable man and confess the truth to Emma, even at the risk of betraying his friends? Should he keep the secret, knowing that this would mean the impossibility of maintaining a relationship with Emma?

There was something of which he had absolute certainty, though. He was not going to, under any circumstances, ignore that secret with the sole objective of keeping Emma by his side. If he already felt ashamed for his weakness, for not being able to resist her charms, for having fallen under her spell, he could not forgive himself continuing to take advantage of her ignorance.

The doorbell announcing the arrival of someone brought him back to reality. He realized that he had remained standing in the middle of the room, lost in thought while the empty suitcase was in front of him waiting to be filled.

He shook his head, brushing aside those thoughts for the moment as he wondered who was visiting him so early. David would probably already be in the newspaper office and Mary Margaret would have already arrived at school. Maybe it was Emma, on her way to the town hall. The corners of his lips instinctively rose at that thought, while his heart fluttered in anticipation, though her presence in his apartment at that moment would mean inflicting one more torture on his already battered heart.

"Hey," Indeed, it was Emma who had decided to pay him an unexpected visit. She was wearing a cute beanie, her hair falling in soft waves over her shoulders, her cheeks colored with a slight pink halo due to the cold and a wide smile pulling at her lips. She was a vision with the ability to take his breath away. "I brought breakfast." He forced his gaze away from her face, his eyes sliding to the paper bag with Granny's logo she was holding.

He swallowed hard as he managed a smile that he hoped was enough to hide his inner turmoil. "You've read my mind, love. I could do with a cup of coffee."

She grinned at him, gave him a peck on the lips and, without waiting to be invited to come in, she passed by his side in the direction of his kitchen. He could not help feeling somewhat marveled by the ease with which she seemed to move through his apartment, demonstrating how comfortable she felt not only with him, but with what surrounded him.

His satisfaction was short-lived, though. Just as she was walking through his living room, she stopped in her tracks, her eyes fixed on a particular point in the room. Holding his breath, he followed the direction of her gaze to find the empty suitcase on the coffee table. Bloody hell! He had completely forgotten the damn thing.

"Are you going somewhere?" Her head turned in his direction as she gave him an inquiring look, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

His hand reached out to rub the back of his neck while his brain began to scramble frantically for a convincing enough excuse. Bloody hell! He had thought he would see her later for lunch so he still hadn't had time to look for an explanation that might work.

"Aye... something has come up... I have to travel to London to make some arrangements before starting the new course." He managed to mumble a poor excuse that did not sound convincing, while he hated himself a little in the process.

"London?" Emma blinked a couple of times as if she were processing the information. Her previous carefree expression gave way to one of confusion. "When?"

"Tomorrow afternoon." Her eyes widened slightly, so Killian hurried to offer something that would help reassure her. "It will only be a couple of days."

Emma nodded subtly, pressing her lips together into a thin line as she made her way to the kitchen and deposited the paper bag on the counter. Then she turned, standing in front of him, her arms crossed over her chest, her head tilted slightly.

"You know, if you had told me before, I could have accompanied you. I've never been to London… I could have taken a couple of days off…” A shadow of hurt crossed her gaze but she seemed to recover immediately, the corners of her lips twitching into a tiny smile as she shrugged. "Anyway... we better start breakfast or I'll be late and Regina will kill me."

He felt utterly miserable, a new wave of guilt tightened his gut, threatening to further weaken his fragile composure. The image of Emma discovering London through his eyes and his experiences was so damn tempting that for a fraction of a second he was about to send everything to hell, grabbing her by the hand and getting out of there, the two of them together, missing from the rest of the world for a while. He had no choice but to restrain himself, though, and instead, he offered her a poor substitute. "I apologize, Swan, the trip came somewhat unexpectedly, but I'd like to travel with you to London one day."

The faint smile she returned did not reach her eyes. He had to hold back a sigh of frustration as he approached her and began to pull the food out of the bag in an attempt to make breakfast distract him enough. It didn't work, she did not even bother to take off her coat, implying that her visit would be brief. Although they made the effort to keep a carefree talk, he could feel the tension in the atmosphere.

Ten minutes later, she got up, going to the front door. "I really have to go. See you later?" The hint of insecurity in her voice caused a new pang of guilt piercing his heart.

"Sure, I'll grab some lunch and go find you at the city hall." He affirmed in an attempt to reassure her.

She nodded, the corners of her lips moved slightly upward. "I... you know ... Do you want me to get you to the airport tomorrow?"

For all response, he pulled her to him in a tight embrace, the need to feel the warmth of her body against his too overwhelming. "Believe me, Swan, there's nothing I'd like more." He whispered in her ear. “I’ll come back to you in a couple of days.”

The moment the door closed behind her, Killian was aware that he was making a terrible mistake. Letting out a deep breath, he leaned his back and head against the door while pinching the bridge of his nose.

How could he have been so blind as to not realize the reason behind the vulnerability shown by Emma? How could he not only have neglected her abandonment issues, but feed them with his evasive attitude? He resisted the urge to bang his head against the wooden surface in frustration. Instead, he groaned inwardly while his hand curled into a fist.

He could not take that flight. Not when it meant leaving Emma, even for a couple of days. He would meet her for lunch and tell her that there had been a change of plans, that he could travel with her at another time. He had no choice but to regain the strength necessary to face what was to come. He only hoped that he would be able to protect Emma in some way.

Emma Swan. Storybrooke - February 26, 2018

He is leaving, leaving, leaving. Emma tried to block that thought, make it disappear from her mind, but she felt too weak or helpless, unable to cope with that sinking feeling that had settled in her stomach.

Deep down, she knew that she was being irrational, that Killian would never abandon her. But the suitcase, his evasive answers and his expression of ill-concealed guilt had awakened her old demons who soon emerged from their hiding corner and began tormenting her.

She did not even know how she got here to the office, too consumed by those disturbing sensations. Even so, she made the effort to get involved in her work with the goal of getting distracted enough. And she got it for half an hour. Until she had to talk on the phone with someone who, without her asking him, told her that he had just arrived from London.

Fucking London... He had to travel to the damn other side of the ocean... And to think that the morning had started well, with her determination to develop the next step in her relationship with Killian. And all that she found was a sudden trip sprinkled with evasiveness. She tried to find a logical explanation, though, still reluctant to think that she had been betrayed once again.

That spiral of sensations and thoughts did not disappear when Emma was called to Regina's office to deliver some reports. That's what happens when you lower your walls, that you risk being hurt, her inner voice reminded her...

"Emma!"

The unexpected shout caused her to flinch and wake up from her reverie. Feeling her cheeks flush, she looked up and found Regina staring at her through her narrow eyes.

"I pay you to do your job, not to be there absorbed, thinking God knows what and ignoring when I speak to you." Regina's authoritative voice caused her to straighten her back, as she tried to get Killian out of her mind for at least a few minutes.

"Sorry, I got distracted for a moment." Emma mumbled an excuse as she focused her gaze on the documents she was holding.

"Okay then, spit it out."

“What?” Emma looked up at Regina again, not sure that she understood correctly.

Regina rolled her eyes as she pursed her lips, she was losing patience, clearly. "Just tell me what's going on in your head. We'll deal with it and move on to what's really important, my job and this town. I'm a very busy person, in case you forgot."

Emma had to suppress a gasp of surprise. Was she being serious? No way was she going to confess her worries to Regina. She was not only not her friend but also her damn boss. But on the other hand, she had a point... Emma shifted uncomfortably in her seat while appreciating Regina's proposal. She really needed to expel those thoughts, for someone to tell her that she was being ridiculous. And Regina was the person available right now...

"He's leaving." To her horror, the words came out of her mouth without her having had time to process it.

"He? Who?"

Emma groaned inwardly, wishing she were anywhere else instead of here, feeling like a student in the principal's office. "Killian, he's leaving for London." The way Regina was looking at her did nothing to alleviate her inner turmoil. Something flashing in her gaze as her features darkened slightly. "Look, I know it's stupid - he's coming back in a couple of days, so can we continue with the meeting and forget all this?"

Luck was not on her side that day because, after remaining pensive for a few seconds, Regina muttered almost to herself, "So that boyfriend of yours is also a coward - just like his friends."

Emma felt her stomach drop to her toes as her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. Far from reassuring her, her boss's words had left her even more uneasy. "What are you talking about?"

She held Regina's gaze for a few seconds studying her features in an attempt to find out what was happening. Regina’s face remained impassive, but Emma did detect a shadow crossing her gaze, perhaps shame, maybe regret, she was not sure. After what seemed like an eternity, Regina let out a deep sigh as her shoulders slumped a bit. "Taking into account that the photographer hasn’t managed to handle the situation and has decided to flee instead, I guess it's only fair that it's me who tells you the truth. I brought you here in the first place, after all."

The truth? What truth? A myriad of thoughts, each more disturbing, crowded in her head causing it to start spinning. What do Killian’s friends have to do with all this? And what about Regina herself? A wave of panic began to creep from her stomach to her throat, as the desire to run away from there became more intense. In the end, her curiosity won, "Just tell me what's going on." She hissed in a tone perhaps sharper than she intended but this whole situation was getting on her nerves.

Regina's features softened and even Emma detected a glimpse of something akin to pity. That could not mean anything good. She didn't want pity, she didn't need it, did she? She felt a strange sensation taking over her, like a bad omen approaching unstoppable. She held her breath as her stomach tightened into knots.

"It's about your parents, Emma."

My parents ... Her blood froze as she clung to the desk with such force that her knuckles turned white. "What about them?" She managed to mumble in a trembling voice.

"Let me clarify something before continuing, if I'm telling you this, it's because I don't get why after all that they have gone through... and also all of what you have gone through... they still prefer to keep hiding..."

"Just tell me." Emma cut her abruptly, causing Regina to flinch slightly in her seat. At the moment, she didn't want explanations or excuses, she just wanted to know what the hell was happening.

"Killian... well, both he and I know who your parents are." Regina finally admitted in an apologetic tone.

Far from bringing some light to the situation, Regina's confession left her even more confused. How was it possible? Killian had been in Storybrooke for only four months, there was no way he knew this information when he had been living all this time in London... The only contact he had ever had with anyone from here was with…

"No!" It can't be! No no no. She felt all the air leaving her lungs while she refused to accept that possibility, trying to block her mind. Her attempts were in vain though since her brain began to act on its own, tying up loose ends and processing all the information. Killian was the one who had introduced them to her, he had also been the one who had propitiated the first encounters, who had talked to her constantly about his friends...

Any doubts she might have had disappeared when Regina confirmed in words what she had already deduced. "I'm afraid so, Emma. David and Mary Margaret are your parents. They..."

"No!" Emma raised a finger in warning. She did not want to hear anything else. It was as if someone had ripped her heart from her chest and was squeezing it slowly with every memory that came to her mind, with every moment shared with them, inflicting even more suffering.

"Emma, let me explain..."

She shook her head as she rose abruptly and headed for the door, unable to look Regina in the eye. "I gotta go." Emma said, her voice even, though she felt her blood boiling. The weight of the betrayal was so high that she was not sure she could maintain the little composure she still had left. She should get out of there immediately. Ignoring one last call from Regina, she went to her desk, grabbed her purse and coat and then walked to the exit.

A raw rage began to bubble inside her. Unable to handle everything that was happening, she blocked the thoughts about Regina's involvement and completely ignored the revelation about the Nolans. Instead, she focused all her fury on one target - on the person she had blindly trusted. To whom she had given her heart.

The ride to Killian's apartment, far from appeasing her anger, increased that sinking feeling that had settled low in her stomach as she was assimilating all the information received. Tears of humiliation threatened to slide down her cheeks, but she blinked stubbornly holding them back.

Gradually, she realized that she had remained oblivious to a whole plot that had been hatched around her. Emma wondered bitterly how far the threads of these machinations would reach, while the bubble of stability she had lived in when she came to Storybrooke exploded, splashing her with a whole series of questions to which she hoped —or maybe feared— to find an answer.

It was as if everything she had experienced since arriving in the town was part of a huge farce, from her job, the photography course, or even Killian's feelings. A wave of shame and rejection washed over her when she remembered the conversation she had had with Mary Margaret a few days ago, causing her anger to boil again in her veins.

Fortunately, the arrival at the building where Killian's apartment was located stopped that escalation of feelings. Instead, she directed all her energy and anger into a single target. She would have time to deal with everything else, later.

There was a brief moment of hesitation when she reached his door. She felt all her emotions radiating off of her, like a volcano about to erupt. Maybe if she went home and tried to calm down enough she would be able to keep a cool head when the inevitable conversation with Killian took place. She rejected that idea almost at the same instant it crossed her mind. The need to expel those feelings that bubbled inside her was too tempting, although, in the brief lapses of lucidity that dared to appear among so much contained anger, she was aware that she was opting for the easy way. "I don't care." She muttered to herself as she pounded on the door hard.

The moment the door opened, she marched directly towards Killian poking a finger into his chest. "You damn asshole - how dare you?"

He recoiled at her advance, his eyes widening in surprise. "What are you talking about, love? What's wrong?"

"You don't have to keep pretending, I already know the truth about your friends." She threw the last words with contempt, knowing the impact they would have on him. She wasn't wrong. His face suddenly paled, his mouth fell open on a gasp.

"They told you?" He asked in a small whimper.

She huffed, while shaking her head, "It was Regina." She placed her hands on her hips in a defiant attitude. "It seems that your friends are just cowards like you."

To his credit, he seemed genuinely affected, his face contorted in an expression reflecting a mixture of hurt and shame. But she didn't let herself be daunted, hardening her features as she continued her verbal attack without even waiting for a reply. "I trusted you, Killian! How could you do this to me?"

"Emma, let me explain, please." He almost begged, tentatively advancing towards her.

She jumped back instinctively, raising a hand in front of her, thereby avoiding the possibility of her body betraying her due to his proximity. "You lost your chance to explain yourself at the same moment you decided to lie to me. How could you take advantage of me like that?" Emma forced herself to swallow the lump that was forming in her throat. In no way was she going to break in front of him, although the truth was that she was dying inside. She repressed those feelings though, leaving them for the privacy of her apartment.

To her surprise, he did not try to defend himself or repel the attack. He simply dropped himself on the couch, breathing out on a shaky exhale, his shoulders slumped, his lips pressed together in a thin line. He seemed defeated. "I'm so sorry, Emma." He muttered as he ran his hand through his hair.

Emma hesitated for a moment. She needed to fight, to expel these feelings that were threatening to drown her, but she couldn't do it with someone who was already defeated. He wasn't even going to try to hit back. "That's all you have to say? That you are sorry? Are you aware that you've ruined my life? That I don't know what is real in my life anymore?" Frustration and impotence began to take their toll, her voice slid between her lips in a broken murmur.

This time Killian did seem to react. He looked up, seeking her gaze. "I assure you, Swan, that my feelings towards you have always been real." For a moment, she was lost in the intensity of his eyes, they had always had a hypnotic effect on her, even in this moment of such tension. But she shook her head breaking the spell. She was not going to be distracted by two pretty blue eyes.

"You have a strange way of showing it, don't you?" He flinched at the harshness of her tone and the sarcasm of her voice. Something caught her attention at that moment. The suitcase, the original cause of this situation, was no longer on the coffee table. Still, that didn't prevent the pain of a possible abandonment for being more bearable. "And you know what is the worst of all? That in spite of my abandonment issues, you were willing to do just that. At the moment when things get tough, you leave, don't you? Maybe you couldn't bear the pressure of lying to me? Or did you decide it wasn't even worth the effort?" This time Emma had to suppress a sob, but she could not stop thick tears from starting to run down her cheeks.

"I was coming back to you, Emma. The return trip was scheduled for next Saturday." He defended himself in a weak voice. It wasn't enough for her, because she still did not know the reasons that had made him travel in the first place. She was about to reply when he continued. "I wasn't abandoning you. I just needed a few days to think about all this. I also know what it is to lose someone. I could never do that to you, Emma, I promise."

Emma hesitated again, her heart beating frantically in her chest. The hurt was evident both in his broken voice and in his expression. But when she processed his words, she felt a new twinge go through her. "It's not the same and you know it. Your mother, Liam, Milah, they all died. They're dead." She was aware of the damage he was inflicting with her words, but she was unable to stop, a whirlwind of thoughts and feelings swirling inside her, struggling to surface. She did not have the strength to fight against them. "They didn't choose to leave you. But what about me? Starting with your friends, they all chose and decided that I wasn't enough. Everyone - even you."

"That's not true, Emma, they chose to come back for you." Killian got up trying to reach her.

"No!" She stopped his advance, feeling an extreme exhaustion overtake her. "I can't continue with this." Her voice trailed off as she wiped her tears and began to walk in the direction of the front door. She felt again a lost girl, confused and adrift, without anyone to turn to, without knowing who to trust anymore.

"Emma, wait!" She stopped but didn't turn around, unable to hold his gaze and his stormy expression again, "I understand and accept that you are mad at me, but they are your parents. They love you. Please, Emma, I'm begging you, give them at least an opportunity to explain themselves."

A new wave of tears began to slide down her cheeks. Parents... She not only hadn't been enough for them when she was born, but neither was her when they found her, choosing not to confess the truth.

There was something even more painful, something that squeezed her stomach to the point of feeling almost physically sick. They, her parents, had chosen to act as substitute parents of another person, precisely the person she had fallen in love with and who had betrayed her in a cruel way. Because of them. They had chosen Killian over her - taking care of him instead of doing it with her when she needed them the most.

"My parents died in a traffic accident when I was three years old." She muttered before finally leaving his apartment.

Killian Jones. Storybrooke - February 26, 2018

Killian watched helplessly as Emma left his apartment without him being able to do anything about it. The moment she disappeared from view, he felt as if all his energy had been drained from his body, noticing how a sense of emptiness invaded him and left him dazed. Before dropping back onto the couch, he grabbed his phone and typed a quick text.

She already knows. I'm deeply sorry, Dave. KJ

Then he switched off the device and left it on the coffee table. The feeling of despair was so intense that his body began to tremble slightly. He closed his eyes resting his head against the back of the sofa, but that did not alleviate his internal agitation. He had failed not only Emma but his friends. He could never forgive himself.

TheLadySwan .........

I'm sorry, again... Thanks for reading. Let me know what did you all think :)

What to expect from the next chapter? As many of you had already imagined, Emma hasn't taken well to know the truth. We will see how she feels after her confrontation with Killian and how Killian and the Nolans deal with this new unfortunate situation.

#cs ff #cs au #csbb #captain swan #captain swan ff #pictures of reality #mayquita writes #my cs writings #cs au ff #csbb 2018

45 notes · View notes

swanderful1 · 7 years ago

Text

Duplicity: Ch 4/?

Summary: Secrets shroud the homes of the idyllic Willow Lane. Its newest resident, Emma Swan is no exception. In a place where perception is everything, the facade begins to crack. And Emma finds herself staring down the deep, dark secrets that the neighborhood was built on and that nothing is as it seems. Not even the blue eyed gardener.

Notes: First of all, a special thanks to my beta @resident-of-storybrooke who is an actual angel and also to @shady-swan-jones for the incredible artwork. Here with an update, just in time for the weekend (and the finale) but while one door closes I'm happy to continue writing and creating using these characters who have inspired me so much.That being said, I hope you enjoyed reading. Thank you for stopping by, I love getting feedback or kudos or just greetings are fun! Hope everyone has a nice weekend!

Disclaimer: I own nothing, all rights to OUAT

The whole thing can be read on AO3 and ffnet

The dinner at the Nolan’s had been a welcome distraction from what Emma was dealing with in her own house. That much was evident the second their front door closed and the lingering silence between she and Neal filled the house with tension so thick it could practically be cut.

Whatever front they had put on in public, had quickly faded.

Emma stomped her way up the steps to the master bedroom and waited to hear Neal’s footsteps behind her.

The walk in closet off of their room was almost the size of their first studio apartment in Boston. It was hard to believe they had gone from living in less than 400 square feet to where they were now. But Emma would do just about anything to get back to when they had been too madly in love to care that the heat hardly worked. Or that the dated floral wallpaper was peeling. Or that the entire apartment always smelled like the Chinese restaurant in the building next door.

“Emma...” he said when he finally came upstairs to their room. Emma was already in the closet, changing from her clothes. “I went to the dinner, everyone had a nice time…”

“Please. I just want to go to bed.” She went back to pulling her silk pajamas from a drawer in the white cabinets of the closet system. An additive that Neal had insisted be put in the house.

“I was late getting home, it isn’t the end of the world,” he said tersely. Entering the closet but staying in the doorway. He knew enough to give her space at least.

“It’s more than that, Neal.”

“Then what is it? Tell me, because I can’t read your damn mind, Emma.”

“You haven’t been here this week! We moved here because of you and so far all you’ve done is come home late if at all.”

“My job is not 9 to 5, you know that. You knew that before we moved here. Don’t act like this is some surprise.”

“I thought that moving here it might be different. I guess I was wrong.”

“What exactly did you think would be different? We moved here for my career. My legacy, my father’s business. You knew that, you knew what my father was like.”

Emma felt stupid, each day that she went along it got harder until she had constantly felt herself wondering why she was tagging along with someone who clearly did not care for her as he used to. In hopes that he would again become the person she had fallen in love with.

“Where do you even go half of the time? You’re never here. You come home late, you smell like booze constantly...”

“Forgive me for working to try to provide a nice life for you.” Under his breath she heard him add, “I would think you would be grateful.”

“Excuse me?” she snapped. All attentions now on him, not the clothes. “Oh, that’s right because I grew up without a home I’m supposed to crawl on my knees over glass to thank you for all of this?”

Judging from his face she could tell that was exactly what he wanted her to do, which only served to anger her more.

“I should be grateful for what, exactly? Moving away from everything I’ve ever known? Spending day in and out alone in this house? Aside from tonight when was the last time we had a meal together? When was the last time we had sex?”

His jaw clenched, and she debated whether or not to say the next part. Emma stepped toward him, her eyes locked with his. Frustration filling her body.

“If I wanted to marry your father I would have.” She pushed past him and walked into the bedroom.

“Everything I do is for you, Emma, for us! Why can’t you see that?”

“No it’s not.” She stared out the bay window before shutting the white curtains. Everything he did was for himself. “Is there someone else?”

She knew the answer, had for a while, but still she asked.

“No,” he said, sounding defeated. He wouldn’t meet her eyes and Emma felt herself begin to tear up. “You’re being ridiculous.”

She said nothing, just stared at him.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?” he said with ice in his voice.

“What are you talking about?”

“I think you know exactly what I’m talking about,” he said, only a few inches from her now. “What would you do, if I snuck out of a dinner to sit on a stoop with another woman?”

“Oh for god sakes, Neal, you’re the one who hired him.”

“Don’t make an ass out of me for doing it,” he said. Emma’s eyes widened. He had done it to test her. She was sure of that now. Bring in an attractive gardener to spend time with your lonely wife. Emma’s blood boiled, she couldn’t even look at him anymore.

Killian Jones had been a trap, one that she was falling right into. Emma walked away, not wanting to continue to argue with him. It was exhausting.

Down the hall in one of the guest bedrooms she pulled down the made up bed, and crawled underneath. The house had several spare bedrooms, this one was the furthest from the master. Emma had tried to decorate simply, using white linens and gray furniture.

The moon hung high in the sky and cast light into the windows of the guest room. Emma stared out them and into the clear night, the stars were visible from her new home. That much she liked. What she didn’t like was the irony of her being in the guest room of her own house.

There weren’t many emotions in this world that Emma Swan liked. One of the few things she had control over in her life, and as she grew up, was that of her response to circumstances. Because while there was only so much she could do for her situation, her approach was what she knew she could control. So for a long time, Emma had been in as much control as she could have been.

But then when she was 17 years old, she met Neal. At a bar she had used a fake ID to get into with another guy she had been dating. The day she met Neal was also the day she left behind all she knew before. He swept her off of her feet. She left that bar with him and never looked back.

Neal took her interesting places on dates. He had a car, a run down probably stolen yellow bug that had since been retired. In all of the chaos that was being young and in love he was her stability. And she was his. He had just been cut off financially from his father, the older Mr Gold thinking it would have his son crawling back to work for him. Unfortunately, he had been right. Five years later, after graduating from Boston University, Neal had begun working for his father.

Emma settled into the covers. She breathed in the scent of the lavender fabric softener on the sheets, remembering the time not so long ago when Neal had been her wings. Now, though, he was more like cement shoes.

In the morning Emma woke late. Her watch read that it was 10 am, she had forgotten to set an alarm. Next to her phone and watch though on the nightstand sat a singular Hershey kiss. The tiny piece of chocolate wrapped in its signature foil packaging.

Their relationship was wrought with miscommunication. It always had been. They were both stubborn and shut down from other people. But he had been the person she knew longest. And with that came the responsibility of knowing what pushes the other’s buttons. She knew Neal’s, and he knew hers.

Another thing, though, was that they knew how to apologize to each other.

Emma picked up the tiny chocolate candy and held it in her hand knowing their history with it. Neither one of them had an easy time apologizing to each other but this had always been their way. It was the way he had proposed to her. It was the way he broke the news to her that he had to move. It was the way she apologized for leaving when he had initially told her.

Her heart fluttered a bit, it was the first glimpse of her Neal she had seen in months. And he wasn’t moving mountains, but it was a sign. A sign that he was still the person that had swept her off her feet 10 years ago.

“I didn’t know what time you would be up.” Emma looked up at the doorway and there stood Neal, holding two steaming cups of coffee.

“My alarm didn’t go off this morning,” she said carefully, taking one of the mugs from him as he sat down on the bed. “I’m surprised you’re here.”

“Em… I didn’t like how we went to bed last night.”

“Me either,” she said staring down at the steam coming from her mug. She caught a whiff of something, the barest hint of cinnamon. Her favorite.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his leg touching hers. Finally she looked up to meet his eyes. “For how I have behaved and treated you.”

Emma remained quiet, as she finally watched something formulate behind his eyes.

“And you’re right, I am acting like my father. But you don’t deserve that.” He took her hand in his and felt the ring he had given her months ago. “Which is why I think we should actually get married…. For real this time.”

“What?” she said back, she definitely wasn’t expecting him to say that.

“I know we only did this to appease my dad but maybe we could really marry each other, have a ceremony in our new house….”

Emma was so stunned she could hardly move. She just stared at Neal. Dealing with the whirlwind of emotions that had gone on between them in the past 12 hours.

“Neal…. I…” she stuttered. “We decided we didn’t want to get married.”

“We made that decision when we were 18, Emma, things change,” he said calmly. “It’s just something to consider.”

“Won’t your dad be pissed when he realizes we didn’t actually get married before moving here?”

“He doesn’t have to know… he thinks we eloped so we can just tell him we wanted a real wedding.”

Neal stood up from the bed, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. He drained his coffee and started to leave the room before turning around to face her in the doorway, “I’m gonna start putting together all of that exercise equipment still in the boxes.”

Emma smiled, it was forced but she still appreciated that she didn’t wake up in an empty home this morning.

“Thanks for getting all of that by the way,” Emma said. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Just because we had to move here for my career doesn’t mean you have to abandon yours,” he said. “Plus I liked to watch you on the stairmaster.”

He winked at her and instead of blushing Emma felt unsettled. She didn’t like whatever feeling hit her as Neal left the room.

When they first started dating, Emma had no family and Neal was cut off from his father. So envisioning a big, white wedding was beyond either of their imaginations. That was what they had agreed upon for most of their relationship. But then as they got closer to moving to Storybrooke, the more Neal started talking about them actually getting married.

“It’s a more traditional neighborhood, Em, we should think about getting married,” he had said. Which was, as one can imagine, not the way every little girl imagines herself getting proposed to.

“You make it sound like a business transaction,” she said back and then they didn’t speak of it again. Until one morning in their old apartment when Emma woke up to a diamond ring resting on top of a Hershey kiss on the pillow next to her.

“We don’t have to actually do it, but at the very least we can pretend,” he had said. Emma still remembered that morning, the sound of an ambulance driving by outside the window. “Just like the good old days.”

Back when they first started dating, they went on road trips all of the time. The problem was, they were both too poor to afford anything but the gas and had to shoplift at convenience stores all along the east coast.

They would be fake married, fake pregnant, fake fighting. It was a game. Their game. She considered him as he slipped the ring on her left hand. It wouldn’t be so bad, she supposed.

“I’ll wear one too, Em.” He kissed her wrist and they made love that morning. Too caught up in the idea of another one of their games to recognize that they were older now and there were consequences to their rouses.

She remembered everything about that morning all those months ago. The Boston t-shirt she always wore from Neal, the sound of an ambulance driving by their apartment window. The weather was rainy and gloomy but it made their tiny bedroom cozy.

But now, sitting in their new house, surrounded by Pottery Barn furniture everything was so quiet. And Emma’s mind tried to grab onto something meaningful to remember this particular morning. A sound. A smell. A feeling. But she couldn’t.

Emma was in the office off of the kitchen later that morning. The built in shelves took up the entire wall behind the desk and were filled with books she had collected from thrift stores over the years. Plants were used as bookends. A tiny window gave a glimpse of the front street. It was cozy, and though Neal rarely worked from home he still insisted on a home office. She sipped her coffee and scrolled through page after page of porch furniture. It was the one part of home decorating she had avoided. Mostly because she had no idea what the backyard would look like yet.

An email came up in the bottom right hand corner, signifying that Neal had an incoming message. Emma’s gut told her not to look, not to snoop. She was never that girl who went searching through phones and emails and calls. She liked to think she trusted people in her life. Nowadays though she wasn’t so sure. It seemed more and more like Emma was always on the defense with Neal. And even this morning, when he had been so sweet, it felt like a bandaid.

Against her better judgement she opened the email, and luckily it was only from Target telling him about a sale going on this week. Emma released a breath. Paranoia was not her favorite feeling. But a few messages down in Neal’s inbox she saw a chain of messages from none other than Killian Jones. Curiosity getting the better of her yet again.

Just as she suspected it was message after message of Neal micromanaging the entirety of the project he had given her ‘free reign’ of. All the while Killian Jones being completely receptive. Of course he was, he was a nice guy. Or what she had seen of him at least, and she liked to think that she had some ability to judge character.

Her eye caught on the sight of a message from Neal where he stated the yard would need to be done by the end of May. For some sort of party.

Interesting. He hadn’t mentioned anything to her about a party. One would think….

Unless it was to be some sort of wedding ceremony. Some surprise gesture to get her to marry him. Emma’s breath caught in her throat, she didn’t know if she was being ridiculous or realistic in assuming that him asking this morning was only a formality. Why else would he throw a party without telling her? It wasn’t either of their birthdays, no one they knew either.

It was certainly plausible.

A knock on the door pulled her out of her racing head. Quickly Emma closed the email and went to the door. Just what she needed right now, a fucking visitor.

When she opened the door she found Mary Margaret standing on the other side holding two to-go cups of coffee and a small paper bag.

“Hi,” Emma said a little startled.

“Hi, I come bearing coffee,” said Mary Margaret in her sweet voice.

“Come in, please,” Emma ushered. Out of the corner of her eye though she caught sight of Killian Jones unloading his truck at the Mills house. She would ask him tomorrow if he knew anything about the party, no need to bother him right now.

Emma and Mary Margaret made their way to the kitchen table. The nook was surrounded by windows that allowed for a view into the backyard, which would be lovely someday but right now was just a big project and some dirt.

Sipping coffee there was a silence over them for a few minutes. Mary Margaret looked like she had an agenda for being here, especially since she hadn’t called ahead. But she still came across sweet to Emma, almost like a mother in the way that she acted toward people. Most likely that came from her being a teacher. Even still, it made Emma want to trust her, and it made her want to be around the woman more often.

“I hope you had a nice time last night, I know David and I did,” she finally said, setting down her coffee cup and leaning back in the chair. She wore a soft yellow sweater and white pants. Compare that to Emma who was still in her pajamas, she felt like a bum.

“I did, it was lovely,” saind Emma. “We used to live in an apartment building so there weren’t too many dinner parties going on there. It’s nice to have neighbors we can spend time with.”

“That’s one of the best parts about living here, the neighbors are almost like family.”

Emma went to chime in and say she had never really had a family before, but decided against it. She felt bad enough about bringing up her past at the table last night. The last thing she wanted was for Mary Margaret to feel uncomfortable around her.

“I didn’t mean it that… I don’t want to offend you, of course it’s not the same thing as a fam…” the pixie haired woman stumbled over her words. “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable talking about your upbringing with me.”

Emma sipped her coffee, giving the woman time to find her words.

“What I meant to say was that I want us to be friends.”

“Friends?” Emma asked.

“I feel like I’m really not getting this right..” Mary Margaret joked. “I like spending time with you. It’s nice to have someone new around. And when I moved to this street there wasn’t exactly a welcome wagon.”

“Other than you and Ruby this place seems like a tough crowd.” Emma thought back to her only encounter with the Mayor at her garden party. How cold and icy she was, but had a hard time picturing anyone being nasty to the woman sitting across from her right now.

“There’s a lot of history here, in Storybrooke. Some families have lived here for years, so there’s a lot of overlap.”

“Well, I enjoy being around you as well. Especially if you’re gonna bring me coffee and croissants every time you come over.”

They both laughed at that and the nervous tension in the room eased. Emma liked Mary Margaret, she was a kind person. And the world could use more people like her. People who were just nice. Besides that, it would be great to actually form a friendship with someone. All her life Emma had been strong in so many ways, but friends was not one of them.

Sunday morning Killian awoke alone in his bed. His head was already reeling from the night before. The dinner party at the Nolan’s had been fine as far as cordial events go, but there was something that picked at him about it. The memory of sitting on that front porch with Emma as he blurted out about his dead brother was so out of character for him it was downright terrifying.

So rarely did he share anything about Liam with anyone new. Obviously his friends had known, they had been around when it happened. But Emma didn’t ask for the sordid tales of his past, but she did seem lonely.

Killian pulled himself out of bed and ran his hands through his hair. According to the clock it was 7 am, he had some time before he had to be at the Mills’ house. He was building a new shed for them and finally had all of the clearances to do it. Something that was odd for the Mills house, normally when it came to approval from the HOA the process moved rather quickly.

He quickly showered but when he got out realized he didn’t have any towels.

Thankfully he lived alone, he thought, as he dripped down the hallway to his linen closet where the spare towels were. But when he pulled out the towel something hit his hand, it was gooey and felt like some sort of gel.

“What in the….?” he spat out looking at his hand. The gooey mystery substance coating his right hand. He reached way back, in the depths of the shelving to find an overturned bottle.

It was a bottle of shampoo, well past its prime, that had fallen between the cracks. Not just any shampoo though, what he could smell of it was what Milah had washed her hair with. He closed his eyes and let himself picture what mornings used to be like when she was still alive.

The smell of her dark, curly hair pressed against his nose. The feel of her soft body tucked into his. The way she would pull him closer when it was cold outside. On a morning like today, when he hadn’t shaved for a few days, she would complain about the tickle of his jaw.

Anytime he thought of her though, inevitably his mind would wander to the last time he had seen her. The morning after she had died, he hadn’t even been with her when she had taken her last breath. His last memory of her was the sight of her laid out on a metal table, under a blue cloth, making a confirmation to the detective that she was indeed who her ID said she was.

But the person he saw in that room wasn’t the woman he had fallen in love with, she was a shell of herself on that table. An empty version of Milah. The side of her that was an addict had won out in the end.

Who knew an old shampoo bottle could send him on such a tailspin?

Later that day he was working at the Mills house, distracting himself from the morning. The framework for the shed had been built, and was coming along nicely. That was the thing with Killian, no matter what went on day to day, work could take his mind away from anything.

“Hi Mr. Jones,” came a young voice from across the yard. Killian looked up from his work to see Henry Mills walking toward him. They 8 year old son.

“Hi Henry,” he said back smiling. While Killian wasn’t used to being around kids, most of his friends didn’t have them, Henry was a good kid. “I’ve told you before you can just call me Killian.”

“My mom says I shouldn’t call grownups by their first name,” he said back, kicking a stone with his shoe.

“Well I may be older than you but I’m far from a grownup.” Killian smiled at Henry, who was young but always seemed to have a maturity about him. It was probably because, in most scenarios, he was the only kid around. He was an only child, and there weren’t a ton of other kids on the street to play with. “You can help if you would like.”

“Really?” the kid’s face lit up. As much as Killian should probably just work alone, Henry was always helpful and he couldn’t spend another afternoon watching the 8 year old play alone on his swing set.

As they set to work Killian found Henry to be quite helpful. He sorted screws and nuts and bolts. He held things in place, he acted as an extra set of hands. They worked like that for a while.

“Henry, what did I tell you about bothering Mr. Jones while he works?”

Cora Mills was standing not 10 feet from them and he had hardly heard her coming. In her hands was a silver tray with some glasses and a pitcher of ice water. She was an older version of the mayor. Wearing sensible, tailored pants and a white linen shirt. Her long dark hair was tied up and her lips were painted a bright red. It was awfully formal for a Sunday afternoon at home, but that was the Mills family. They ran the town, and they knew it.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Mills,” Killian said standing from his hunched over position. “Henry was just helping out for a little while, he’s never a bother.”

“That’s kind of you,” she said with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Henry, your mother has lunch on the table inside.”

The kid shot up and ran toward the house, waving a quick goodbye to Killian. The young lad had so much energy, Killian felt like it would be a cold day in hell before he could run toward that house right now after working all morning and afternoon.

“You’re very kind to be so patient with him,” Cora said, bringing his attention back to her.

But he didn’t like the way she looked at him, he never did. It was part of his job though, and being that the Mills family were responsible for his brother being so successful he just smiled and endured it.

Monday morning, Killian felt a weird churning in his stomach. He wasn’t inherently a nervous person, but as he made his way to Neal Gold’s house that was exactly what he was feeling.

“You’re awfully quiet this morning,” said Will as they were working in the backyard. The morning had gone off without a hitch but Killian couldn’t help but notice Emma didn’t come out to say hello.

Perhaps he had gone too far by telling her about his brother, perhaps her husband felt uncomfortable with her being alone with him. Whatever it was, he noticed her absence.

“I mean, you’re always a bit grouchy but we’ve been here for a few hours and you haven’t said more than two words,” Will continued. He was one of Killian’s oldest friends. They had met in elementary school, coming from similar toxic family situations.

“I’m not feeling particularly chatty today.”

“Yes because you’re usually such a talkative person.”

“I’m here to work I’m not here to doddle,” said Killian with a hint of irritation in his voice as he continued to dig out places for the posts of the fence. A wood fence that will eventually be covered in natural looking vines, but it was easier to focus on that then his bad mood.

He wiped the sweat from his brow, it was only 11 am and already very warm. If only that pool in the middle of the lawn was full he would jump in right now to cool off. By the end of the week the plumbing for the sprinkler system would be done.

“You know, some people would find your silence off putting,” Will continued to jab at him. “But I love a challenge.”

“You are intolerable.”

“Then fire me!” he teased. Killian at least cracked a smile at that. He worked alone a decent amount, he felt he was more efficient that way. But it was nice to have company every once in a while. However annoying Will was, he was still company. And he was one of the people who dragged him back to work after losing Liam. For that he would forever be grateful.

“I think there’s someone who wants to talk to you….” he heard Will say as he picked up his head. Walking toward them was Emma Swan, long blonde hair free and flowing. She wasn’t in her usual workout gear and ponytail. It looked like she was on her way to something. The purse that hung on her shoulder, he recognized as one he had bought for Milah for Christmas one year. The difference was, the one Milah had was a fake version and Emma’s appeared to be real. A several thousand dollar bag, hanging from her shoulder like it was nothing. That was the kind of life she was used to.

“Killian, can I talk to you for a minute?” her voice sounded in his ears as she looked right at him. He tried to read her expression but her sunglasses masked her most telling feature. Her eyes. Apparently he had frozen in his spot because he felt the gentle nudge of Will on his shoulder.

“Sure,” he said a little too quickly. With the back of his glove he wiped his forehead again before following her toward the porch. When he turned back to look at Will his friend’s eyebrows were raised in such a way that he thought perhaps he now knew why Killian had been so quiet.

Emma led him up the stairs of the back porch and just when he thought she was going to stop there, she opened the french doors and led him inside her house.

The cool air hit him as he stepped inside. Immediately he was conscious of the dirt on his boots that were tracking on the wood floor.

“It’s alright, just leave them on,” she said as if reading his mind.

He took in the surroundings. After many years of working in these neighborhoods, this was the first time he had ever been invited inside. It was just as massive as it looked on the outside. The french doors from the porch led into the space of a large living room, off of that was a sleek white kitchen. But in all of its grandeur, amongst all of the artwork and books, there were absolutely no pictures.

“Would you like a glass of water?” she offered from behind the kitchen island. Emma had taken her sunglasses off and set them next to her bag on the counter. He searched her bright green eyes, but if Killian was being honest they appeared to be a bit foggy. Had she been crying?

He could only assume she was going to tell him off for following her out to the porch at the Nolan’s on Saturday night.

“Sure, that would be great,” he said, removing his disgusting work boots and leaving them by the door. It felt like a crime to wear them in her pristine home. Dragging mud through her seemingly pristine life.

Killian walked over to where Emma stood in the kitchen and reached across the island to grab the glass of water from her. He kept his distance though, this was her home, and god forbid her husband walk in to find the two of them alone in the house together. Killian would never work again.

“Yesterday I was in Neal’s office and stumbled upon something,” she turned and went through one of the doors off of the kitchen. He didn’t know what to do so he just watched as she quickly returned from what he assumed was Neal Gold’s home office. Making a mental note of where it was he looked at the piece of paper in her hand.

“What do you know about this event we’re having at the house at the end of May?” she asked, catching him off guard.

“It was mentioned just in terms of the timeline,” he said back. “Nothing else was told to me about it.”

Emma sighed, setting down the sheet of paper that had the chain of emails between Killian and Neal about the yard. Whatever kind of marriage the two of them had, it clearly was not a very strong one if she had to ask him about an event her husband was planning.

“Me either,” she admitted as she crossed her arms over her chest. The ring on her finger catching his eye. “I don’t like surprises.”

“Maybe it’s some sort of birthday party…. Or anniversary….?” he offered, wondering why she was so concerned about it and also why Killian was the only one she was able to consult. “I’m sorry I can’t be of more help, love.”

“It’s alright, I just thought maybe he told you.”

He surveyed her again, noting how uncomfortable all of this made her. It was why she had dragged him inside, the idea of not knowing something as simple as a party your husband was planning… well that was probably irritating to her. Perhaps her life wasn’t as pristine as they led the world to believe. In the space of only a week Killian had noticed that. It wasn’t up to him to comfort her, that wasn’t in his job description as the town’s local gardener. But he felt himself wanting to do it anyway.

“Look, Emma…” It felt odd calling her by her first name, but the way she looked at him told her she was listening. “I’m sure it’s just a surprise he’s throwing together. And that whatever it is will be lovely.”

Her green eyes were rather striking to him, as there was something behind them that made him very wary. Fear.

“If he gives any indication as to what it is you will be the first person I tell,” he said scrambling for anything to just wipe away that look of fear on her face. There was so much more to this than a mystery party but right now it was all he had to offer her. “I promise.”

As if all at once she realized just how inappropriate it was for him to be in this kitchen with her right now alone, she snapped out of whatever haze she had been in.

“Thank you,” she said stiffly. “I didn’t mean to keep you from your work I just… I didn’t want to talk about this in front of…”

“Other people.” He finished for her. Quickly dismissing himself back to the yard where he belonged. But as he worked the rest of the day he couldn’t help but wonder what on earth Emma Swan was so afraid of.

#cs ff #cs au #captain swan fanfiction #cs fic #cs ff au #captain swan #emma swan #killian jones

29 notes · View notes

dividivisee-blog · 7 years ago

Text

Photograph #3

Part 1 (AO3) / Part 2 (AO3) / PART 3 (AO3) / Part 4 (AO3)

Pairing: Hyuk x Reader

Genre: Fluff / Slow burn

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 2,019

Summary: A month after your day with VIXX, you’re still slaving away at your office job but a surprise leads you to a big change of pace and the discovery of your number one supporter.

Author’s Notes: Honestly, this chapter focuses a lot more on you rather than your relationship with our dear Hyogie, so I hope you’re not disappointed! I’m developing our characters as we go along. This was a tougher chapter to write for me, but I hope you all still enjoy! As usual, my inbox is always super open to making new friends, comments about my fanfic so far, anything about VIXX! I’m pretty open to VIXX prompts! I’ve received a couple of new followers and messages since the last chapter and it’s made me really happy! Please keep them coming, I love to hear from you!

If you also use AO3, I would appreciate any comments/kudos there!

You are sitting on a toilet seat in one of the stalls of your office bathroom. You shift your weight, adjusting your scrunched-up pencil skirt and fuss with your button-down top, before hunching down closer to your phone, trying to unscramble letters in a word game. You glance at the clock on the top of your screen and feel the time ticking down from your break.

You jolt as your phone buzzes. You receive a text from none other than Ara. Sent you something today! Tell me when you get it! You always hear her voice in her texts, even if you don't mean to. You frown and scroll up and down your conversation history. The last time you spoke to her was a month ago, the morning after the photoshoot and drinking session with VIXX. You remember the day after clearly: waking up with a hangover, lying about feeling sick, getting an earful from your superior, and diving straight back into the worst of work with difficult clients and a clogged up to-do list. You read your messages. You thank her, She brushes it off and praises you, you get embarrassed, and finally she asks you when will you “quit your damn job so you could pursue your photographer career”. No replies afterwards. You sigh deeply, trying to expel the pang of guilt in your chest. Your mind is still as blank as it was a month ago.

You straighten your body, stretch your arms over your head, and stare at the door in front of you. You look at the bathroom door, a dull gray with no scratches or markings. The view reminds you of the countless days you've spent plopped on this seat either hiding from your boss, playing games on your phone, or just crying. “What was I doing here? Why am I wasting my time? How can I do this while my old classmates are succeeding?”, You would ask yourself regularly in this exact spot, confronted by this blank door, and the answer would always be the same, the crippling combination of financial, family, and societal pressures. You fantasize about a resignation letter you wrote months ago on your computer, waiting to be dated and printed. You pull up your phone again and stare at the blank reply line, your thumbs hovering over the keyboard. But before you could begin making a reply, you hear the bathroom door open and high-heeled steps shuffling in. It was your cue to leave so you flush the toilet, wash your hands, and exit the stall. You return to work. "Are you (Y/N)-ssi?", A young man asks. You're standing at the entrance of the dark, empty office, in front of the young man, who's dressed in a rain jacket, jeans, and sturdy sneakers, lugging a hefty backpack. He smells like a mixture of sweat and the outside. "Yes, I am.", You reply. You were in the middle of getting ready for your noontime nap, a rare quiet moment in the office, until the young man knocked on the glass door. You fidget in place, standing uncomfortably in another pair of cheap flats. The young man smiles and nods. He hands you a little clipboard with two small slips of paper. "Kindly sign both, please!", He says while pointing at the lines at the bottom of the receipts. He quickly twists his bag towards his front and rummages through. You can hear the contents roughly rustling together as his hand sifts the inside. You sign the papers and hand the clipboard back to him. "Thank you!", He takes the clipboard, slips it into his back pocket, and hands you two plastic-wrapped magazines, with your name labeled on both. He bows and bids you goodbye. You look at the magazines and see the title emblazoned on top, "CHICK", in a bold font. The cover was a colorful photo of a trendy actress and model, sunbathing on a roof in nineties-themed clothing. You see a few headlines littering the cover but your eyes fall on one, "Your next boyfriends, VIXX". You couldn't run any faster to your desk. You turn on the lights, skid onto your desk chair, and quickly open up one of the copies. You flip through the pages and there you see it, in its printed glory, VIXX standing the way you precariously envisioned and in white letters beside them, "Photographed by (Y/N)". You stare at it in disbelief, clapping your hand over your mouth. You quickly take a picture of the first page and send it to Ara, your sheer excitement overtaking any anxiety. You carefully turn the pages to see the whole editorial: a close-up of N with one of his signature expressions, a full-body of Leo, looking to the side, soft and sentimental, a portrait of Ravi artfully slouched on a chair, Ken and Hongbin laughing while play fighting, and Hyuk gazing straight to the camera. You feel your face growing warm and you trap a scream in your mouth. Your phone buzzes and it's a reply from Ara, "Congratulations on your first editorial!! I told you they would turn out amazing!!" Your mind races, thinking of how to repay her.

You feel your heartbeat pounding, sending adrenaline all over your body. You stand up and pace near your desk, trying to calm yourself down. You check the time on your phone, you have a few minutes until everyone returns from their lunch break. Fuck it. You sit back down in front of your computer and the whirring sound of a printer fills the empty room. When you step out of your office building, you feel light, the lightest you've ever felt in a while. You begin walking with a skip to your step and you resist the urge to do a little jig. You look at your phone and your eyes widen when you see that you have hundreds of notifications from one of your social media accounts, the account you used to share your photography. You furrow your eyebrows. You haven't touched that account in months. You open the application and see that you've been flooded with a huge number of new followers and comments on your older works, none of these people you recognize. As you scroll through the commotion, you begin smelling a delicious aroma. You look up from your phone, and notice that you're already outside of the little, casual dumpling place you and Ara agreed to meet at. You peep into the windows and notice she isn't there yet so you decide to wait for her outside of the restaurant while sorting through the sudden attack on your social media.

Your thumb feels a growing cramp as the timeline of notifications seem endless. You groan as the list goes on until an unfamiliar username catches your eye. You tap on their profile.

You see that it's Hyuk’s verified profile, followed by hundreds of thousands of people. You refresh the page to make sure the number is correct. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t change. Besides his selfies and rare glimpses into his personal life, his latest posts are him showing off the editorial in the magazine, him showing off the pictures you took, and crediting you as the photographer. "Look at my hyungs! Thank you for having us, CHICK magazine!" His caption reads on the pictures of his fellow members, tagging you and CHICK magazine's social media account. You hold your breath as you see sixty-thousand likes and sigh in relief when you read most, if not all, the comments were positive. You press on another post, his solo portrait and blink when you read fifty-thousand likes. "Was really nervous during this photo shoot, but it was an unforgettable day!", He wrote, tagging you and the magazine again.

You laugh and think, “That makes the two of us”, and smile.

After finding out that Hyuk was the cause of the fuss online, your stomach grumbles, a sign that Ara is ten minutes late. You look towards one end of the street to the other and can't seem to spot her in the distance. You think for a minute and decide to get a hold of the man himself. "Good evening, Hyuk-ssi. Are you busy now? Can I call you?", You type and send off to Hyuk, hoping you weren’t disturbing him in anyway. In the back of your mind, you considered the possibility of him changing his number but surprisingly, you get his reply. "I'm not busy, go ahead and call. :)", He says. Your heart skips a beat, but you call him anyway. You listen to the ring twice before he answers. "Good evening, Hyuk-ssi! I'm glad I was able to catch you. I’m sure you have a full schedule." "Nah, I’m just eating dinner," his voice, warm and familiar through the phone, "What's up?" "Nothing much, I just wanted to thank you for sharing the photo shoot and tagging me! I got a lot of new followers and likes and I'm sure the exposure will help a lot!", You say while bowing your head to no one in particular.

"Ah, it's no big deal, (Y/N)-ssi," He laughs, "I really hope it does help you and…Um, I should be thanking you for taking such nice pictures." "What! You made my job easier by being so handsome!", You laugh and there's a deathly pause, you horrified by what you just blurted out and Hyuk completely silent. You feel each second painfully pass between the two of you. You look around awkwardly, trying to find something to say, but all you hear is handsome ringing in your head. Unluckily, at the turn of your head, Ara is in your face, her loud makeup emphasizing her growing sneer.

"(Y/N)-ssi? I was-", Before Hyuk could finish his thought, you interrupt his thought as you watch Ara’s grin get wider and wider. You swiftly turn your back on her and cup your mouth over your phone, "Hyuk-ssi, I'm so sorry, I have to go now. Good night!" You hang up on him and look at Ara, whose grimace has somehow gotten worse. "So, who could that handsome person be?", Ara says as she creeps closer to you. "No one, Ara!", You laugh nervously, "Let's go in, it's so cold!" You rub your arms and shiver with a dramatic flourish as you brisk walk through the restaurant's doorway. Ara follows behind you, whining your name. Ara doesn't let up the whole night, asking who this secret lover of yours is. You valiantly attempt to protect your privacy and Hyuk's by dodging her questions and denying her sordid assumptions. You hide your phone in your bag, despite the constant buzz of notifications, in fear of Ara snatching it the moment you pull it out. Eventually her focus turns to drinking rather than interrogating. The two of you eat and drink merrily, surrounded by the fog of tasty dumplings. You clink your glasses together in celebration of your first work in a major publication and your first step towards pursuing your dreams. You don't hold back, as you and Ara hop from bar to bar, feeling untethered to any of your worries.

When you finally get home, you stumble straight into bed, still dressed in the wrinkled button-down and your most hated skirt. You fall asleep in a happy haze, knowing that you never have to wear this outfit, that you don't have to hang out in bathroom stalls, and you'll never be obligated to touch a spreadsheet ever again. You groan in your sleep as an alert rings off your phone, a text message from a certain, flustered idol.

“(Y/N)-ssi, are you alright? I got a bit worried since you hung up so fast! I know it’s already pretty late, so I just hope you’re safely asleep but text me when you wake up, so I know you’re not dead or something. Good night!”

Another alert follows.

“By the way, let’s work together again soon, before I’m no longer handsome, haha! ;)”

You snore peacefully as your phone battery dies.

43 notes · View notes

redeyedryu · 8 years ago

Text

Apathy & Happenstance

Chapter 5 - Misunderstandings and Memes [Ao3] | 1 | 4 | x |

It only took me two months but here’s chapter 5! I’m so sorry for the wait I’m absolutely terrible.

Summary: You answer the call; misunderstandings ensue. You and Sans share a little memement and you make a skeleton pout.

He called you for a reason, right? So you should answer the call, yeah?

Papyrus is angrily tapping his foot, irritated that it's taking you so long to make a decision. You can hear something that sounds like a growl eliminating from the explosive skeleton and have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep the grin off your lips. Maybe you'll let it ring a bit longer? Just to piss him off.

So you do just that.

You wait until the last possible second to answer the call, teeth clenching as you reign in a wicked grin. You imagine that if Papyrus had hair he'd probably be pulling at it by now, livid at your inability to do something as basic as answering a simple phone call. Eventually though, despite the anxiety bubbling in your chest, you force it down and hit ‘answer’, setting the call to speaker as Papyrus growls an exasperated, “FINALLY!” before returning his attention to gazing out the window.

Time to get this over with. And maybe give Edgelord a tiny break.

Before you get a chance to say anything, however—not even a greeting or an opportunity to breathe awkwardly into the receiver—you're met with a deep voice asking, "this some kinda sick joke?"

You're stunned into silence, blinking a couple times in your confusion. Is this Papyrus? The voice doesn't quite match up with what you had imagined—if anything, it reminds you of the smaller, rounder of the two skeletons; it's a low, rumbling baritone. And what does he mean? What's a 'sick joke'? "What?" is your very eloquent reply.

“look, pal,” he starts, pure venom to what would otherwise be a friendly moniker, “i dunno if this is just how you get your rocks off or what, but this ain't funny.”

You try to cut in but he doesn't stop, just keeps going off on you. That you're sick, that you need to get a life and stop dickin’ around with Papyrus.

Geeze, this guy isn't even giving you a chance to explain anything. Whatever. Might as well let him blow off whatever steam he's got, you can wait. He’s probably been on the verge of a meltdown for a while if this tirade is anything to go by. People don't typically just blow up like this for no good reason, after all.

Not unless they're ‘The Great and Terrible Papyrus’, your mind supplies dryly, causing you to huff air through your nose in a quiet laugh. Rather unfortunate that you have to be the one on the receiving end of this outburst, though.

You lean back into the plush of the couch, eyes closing as you let the stranger on the other end do his thing.

It's easy to tune people out when you don’t let their words hold any weight over you.

You're not sure how much time passes, and at some point you feel the couch shift as someone sits down beside you (honestly a little closer than you’d like). Probably Sans, you think. Must have gotten his fill of the view. That or he’s curious about whoever it is that’s tearing you a new one.

Eventually, you tune back in to the rant on your phone just in time to hear,

“don't ever let me catch you tryin’ to contact my brother again, capiche?”

Seems he’s done with his rant, as well as expecting some sort of reply, considering he didn’t just hang up on you.

You’re admittedly kind of curious about what's going on in their lives if this is his automatic response to someone trying to make light conversation (though, to be fair, you might have instigated a potential existential crisis) with his brother, but decide you don't care enough to pursue that train of thought. The angry monster on the other line is still awaiting a response, so you take the opportunity to finally speak up.

You take a deep breath, not bothering to open your eyes or lift your head from the cushion of the couch, and then release it. “You done?” you ask the voice on the other line. Silence is your only answer so you take that as a yes. “Look,” you continue with something of a sigh, “I don't know what's got your bones all rattled, mister, but I can assure you this isn't a joke. Believe me, that’d be loads better than having to deal with this headache.

“I get that this is really weird and that pictures can be edited, and judging by your reaction just now, you've probably been dealing with some shit, so how about this…”

Cracking your eyes open, you pull your screen in front of you, the device lighting up with the motion. You zero in on the little camera icon on the interface and tap it, causing the screen to immediately begin displaying a thumbnail of your face; the live feed is undoubtedly being displayed to the ball of anger on the other line at a bigger resolution.

“It's a bit harder to edit live footage, right?” There's the shuffling of fabric as you sit up from your slouched position and shift your phone to capture the skeleton sitting beside you. And yup, kudos to you, that is definitely edgy mcsharktooth sitting next to you. “Say hi to Sans, Sans.”

The sharp-toothed skeleton beside you merely makes a sound reminiscent of a tongue clicking before flipping the camera the bird, looking rather smug over his childish display.

“Rude,” you half-heartedly scold as the sharp-toothed skeleton chuckles, before swiveling the phone to capture sight of Papyrus, who's still standing in front of your window. He looks pensive, standing there with his arms crossed, his expression tight, and his posture ramrod straight.

“And over here, we have Papyrus: Edgelord edition.” you announce. The addressed skeleton shifts his skull to send a scathing glare your way, his sockets narrowing, before he simply averts his attention back to the view outside. With a quiet laugh of air pushed through your nose, you twist the phone back to you.

“Still think I'm ‘dickin’ around’?” you query, your expression flat, one eyebrow raised. There's silence on the other line for a beat—long enough that you have to question whether or not Sans (and you know it's Sans for sure, he practically admitted it himself, after all) hung up on you. It's just as you're clicking a button at the side of your phone to illuminate your screen that his voice finally breaks the silence that settled. "huh..." he scoffs, and you hear the strange sound of something hard scratching against something equally as unyielding. "wasn't... wasn't expectin' that." Yeah, take that, mister grumpy pants, feel that guilt roll across your bones. "guess you really weren't messin' with paps..." There's the sound of what you assume to be bone rubbing against bone again before he says, "i uh... i s'pose i owe you an apology..." A corner of your mouth twitches, a smile tugging at his acquiescence, and proceed to click out of the video call, returning to voice only. Phone now resting on your chest, you're able to fully slouch back into the couch cushions, releasing a heavy breath of air as you do. "Yup." "sorry, bud." The apology doesn't really feel sincere, in all honesty, but at least he acknowledged that he was wrong. At least he made an attempt. That’s more than you’ve gotten from others. At his "apology" your grin grows full force, the corners of your lips curling. Your response is a near automatic, "Not your bud, pal." There's a snicker on the other line before Sans, not missing a beat, shoots back, "not your pal, friend." "Not your friend, mate." "not your m-" "th' fuck you two doin'?" snaps the skeleton at your side, effectively putting an end to your impromptu back-and-forth. You can't help but laugh. "Memes, Sans. Memes." you tell him, tilting your head to the side to grin at him. "Only the greatest of quality content the internet can provide." "th' fuck're 'memes'? 'internet'?" he questions you, the space around his nasal cavity and his eye sockets curiously scrunching up in his befuddlement. "don't cha mean th’ undernet?" You quirk a brow before shifting your head back to a forward facing position, head shaking ever so slightly in disbelief. "Oh man. You poor, poor soul." "tch. whatever, ya weirdos." he growls, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring off to the side. You're able to just make out his quiet mumbling of, "how would i know 'bout yer stupid aboveground jokes." "Hey," you nudge the pouting skeleton with your elbow, effectively getting him to look back at you (though the edges of his seemingly permanent grin appear tight and dipped). "No need to get all salty." You have to bite your lip at the way the ridges of his skull, just above his eye sockets, furrow like eyebrows in his confusion, trying to puzzle out how he could be considered salty without any salt—were you planning on dumping some on him or something? Was that another weird ass aboveground thing? Did humans sprinkle themselves with salt for some reason? Or was it just another dumbass expression? Probably that last one, he surmises. You, meanwhile, are still trying to maintain a semi-neutral façade. You're finding it really hard to deny how fun it is, riling these two up. You can sparsely recall a time in the last few years where you smiled and laughed as much as you have in the last hour or so. It feels... nice. Really nice.

So when you tell the grumpy skeleton, "I can give you a crash course—on memes and surface culture—if you want." you twist to face him, sincerity in not only your words but your expression as well. You see that curious little pin prick of light in his eye socket shift to look at you—he doesn't turn to face you, still sitting with his arms crossed and turned just slightly away—and simply makes that clicking sound again, "tch", before resuming his pouting. You think his skull looks a bit red but you're not sure—maybe the light's playing tricks on your eyes? Whether he's blushing some weird variant of a skeleton blush or not, you can't help but to snicker. Seems he's not quite used to sincerity and sentimentality. But you're getting off track now, aren't you? Since you still have Sans on the phone—well, blue Sans since red Sans is pouting at your side (goodness, this is going to get so confusing)—you might as well get to the heart of the matter. You take a deep breath, hold it for a beat, and then exhale, refocusing. You tilt your head down a fraction towards your phone and ask, "You still there, Sans?" The skeleton's deep voice answers, "yup." "Alright. Cool. Good." Oh god, stop yourself before you start rambling. "So since all that fun stuff's been cleared up, how about we get down to business? D'you know what's going on?" You cast a glance to the Sans sitting next to you as you pose the question. Yup, he's still pouting. "Either of you, actually. I take it y'all aren't pairs of twins that just so happen to share the same name as well as face." "heh. nah, they ain't that." Blue Sans is quick to respond. "Evil clones?" Red Sans sputters at your side and you think you hear Papyrus choke on air over by the window. "e-evil clo- tha heck kinda dumbass question izzat?!" the shark-toothed skeleton practically growls, now twisted to face you. You snicker and shift to sit sideways, to address him face-to-face. You prop your face up on your knuckles, elbow pressed into the cushion of the couch, and set your phone on the top of the couch. "Well I mean your brother does go around calling himself the great and terrible. How else am I supposed to take that? Not to mention your guys' wardrobe choice." "tha heck's wrong with our clothes?" he snaps defensively, his eyelights dipping to take a quick glance at his attire before flicking back to you. "Nothing, nothing," you're quick to respond. You're biting your tongue, trying to keep yourself from laughing more. The Sans on the other end of the line, however, is chuckling unabashedly. "you dress like an edgy teenager, is what she's tryin' not to say," he manages to get out between his laughter.

Talk about tact. Thanks a lot, Sans. "wha-! i ain't-! you don't-! sh-shut up." Red Sans stammers. Oh great, he's turned himself away from you again. He's embarrassed, isn't he? "Aw, come on, don't be embarrassed," you attempt to placate the flustered monster. "I think it looks pretty cool. Black and red go really well together!" "sh-shut th' fuck up n' stop messin' with me!" he practically snarls, that curious red tinge dusting across his skull again. You think maybe you should feel bad about teasing him but you're currently overcome with a pleasant sense of childish giddiness. It’s such a refreshing difference to always feeling so numb, so… empty. "Okay, okay. Alright. I'm sorry, alright?" you manage to say, only letting a single, quiet giggle escape your lips. "Let's just move on and get back on topic, yeah?”

Red Sans doesn’t grumble or growl in disagreement, so you press on. "So if you're not clones—evil or otherwise—what are you guys?" "i've got an idea," blue Sans speaks up. You look to the phone, curious. Red Sans's skull tilts ever so slightly in your direction; obviously listening too. Though you can't see the broody skeleton at your window with your back now turned on him, you're sure Papyrus is listening as well. "Yeah?" you prompt. "how familiar are you with the multiverse theory?"

#Red Drabbles #Undertale Fanfiction #Underfell Fanfiction #Reader Insert #Apathy and Happenstance

6 notes · View notes