#nolan needs an intervention | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

prisonwalkerfics · 5 months ago

Text

Liminal Ambiguity

Summary

Expectations are a thing where people reveal their worth to others and themselves. How would someone like myself could afford to bridge the gap between my halo and horns? Am I truly worth the task at hand to appease those expectations, or simply able to burn the alleged faith in me from other people? Emerson is starting his life as a new upstart adult in a world where crimes and infidelity are growing exponentially. With family on his end pressuring to make better decisions for himself, he barely has the effort to attempt the decision he finds for himself and for himself. Until he meets someone worth the effort to hide his stress for a few nights…Or maybe forever?

Cast

Tristan Stovall as Emerson Briar Brumfield (ML)

Clayton Hunter as Mr. Nolan Brumfield

Andres Marcelo as Michael/Evan Ryder Rose (Bodyguard/ Friend/False Love Interest (LI) for Emerson)

Kjay Woodland as Andrew “Drew” Miller (LI)

Max Cohen as Kasper Isaak-Miller (Bro)

Tyla Laura Seethal as Shiomi Sato-Miller (Sis)

Regina Hall as Imani Miller (Aunt)

Teyonah Parris as Kayla Miller (Aunt)

1: Remembrance

-Emerson-

I wonder if my father truly loves me. Is he loathing the idea of my failing aspirations, or is the opportunity to reconstruct my identity too much to bear for him? I questioned his motives sometimes when I was involved. He says he has my best interest at heart, but I have yet to see any form of his love towards me to be present. Sometimes, I wished my mother was still here to keep the peace between my father and myself.

I walked into my on-suite bathroom, staring at myself in the mirror, absorbing the self-loathing I had placed in myself countless times. I have a few blemishes here and there. I lift up my shirt to smell the stench of the alcohol from last drenching my body. Great, I was going to freshen up quickly and climb back into my bed to sleep the day away, but I think a divine intervention has something else in store for me.

"Emerson, your father wanted to know if you were awake. He wishes that you quickly wrap up your morning routine and meet him in his office immediately. Also, good morning, Emerson. Hopefully, today will be the day that good news will bless you." Our butler, Ulysses, mentioned this to me before exiting my bedroom.

It's nice hearing his voice. I hope he doesn't leave, too. I turned on the shower and climbed into the burning barrage of water droplets, stabbing me into the leftover scars left by my past temperaments and discretions. This may ease my mind off what my father would be plotting to sabotage my free will yet again. It has not been even a whole year since the last time I had to beg for his forgiveness. Am I really that much of a shameful excuse of a son that he is going to punish me again. Will his chamber members of the executive be there again? Will they also need me to cleanse myself for them to relieve them of my sorrow? I can only find out by meeting him in his office. What do I have to lose that I already lost?

I walked towards his office when I noticed Ulysses fanning me over towards him. He removed his right glove from his hand and placed it on my shoulder. I looked into his face to see a smile on his face. I haven't seen a smile on his face since my dad called me back from boarding school three years after my mother's death. This may be good news for once.

"Be careful, and don't do anything you will regret doing. I hate seeing you hurt." Ulysses stated to me before laying a small kiss on my forehead.

"Thanks; let me get this over with before he reconsiders whatever he has in store for me," I told Ulysses before knocking on my father's office door, waiting for him to say something.

I stare at the door that started it all for me. My announcement of my birth by my mother to the removal of my name from my father and reside at Lady Lily Boarding School of Troubled Youths. I went through so much there. I was trapped there with no outside communication because my father wanted nothing to do with me at the time. My mother yelled at him for sending me away because I was too weak to form coherent thoughts and like-minded ideals like himself. He said the school would help shape me into a man like himself. He said I was troubled by the thoughts that went through my mind.

I was troubled, alright. The mental and emotional assaults by the priests and nuns to the physical assaults from the other boys who were there seeking the same thing as myself, but in the difference between the both of us, they were truly troubled. They took something from me I would never want any man or woman to experience. They took my innocence, pride, and the least amount of sanity I had at the time. I was only going to go to the school for one year, my father said to prove to me that I was not troubled, but after the person I trusted there to support me throughout my year there, he beat me up and sexually assaulted me to prove that I was just as troubled as everyone else here.

All I could hear was him laughing at me as he silenced me each time, emphasizing his position and views on me stroke by stroke. After he finished, I snapped. I picked up the nearest object and beat the living shit out of him to prevent him from hurting anyone else ever again. It was all a ploy from my father to prove to my mother that I could not be saved from simple parenting but hard love. He didn't expect the kid to go this far with me, but nonetheless, my father won in my mother's eyes. I was left behind for another two years to be falsely rehabilitated for something that was never a part of me. Yet, I was still victimized in my own mind to live with the failure I had given my mother, the only person who saw the best in me, to walk away from her greatest blessing. I was able to bless her with my life. Now, I was a curse that killed my mother and pushed my father to believe in his perspective of me.

"Come in." I hear my father's voice behind the door. I walked through the door to see him in one of his countless luxurious suits. "You're late. Have a seat." I nodded and sat across from him.

I looked up at my father, hoping he would finally look me in the eyes for a change, but all he was doing was looking at documents and his calendar. Once again, after all these short years after my 'shameful' display at the school and when I returned home after my mother's death, he would never look at me nor acknowledge me as his son.

"Good morning, d- Mr. Brimfield. I am sorry for my lateness. It won't happen again." I told my father. He looked up from his folders of documents and calendar and saw my sorrowful face. He had a soft smile before it quickly fell off his face.

"I see you refrained from calling me by paternal nouns here. I guess letting you stay at that school for another two years did you some good. Then again, your mother's death also did a number on your mental health and self-awareness of authority around you. I think I could give you something that would shed more light on the Brimfield name. Ulysses, call in Mr. Rose. He needs to see who his new assignment will be." My father mentioned that he had commanded Ulysses to bring some strangers to his office.

"An assignment? Am I going on a trial or something, Sir?" I asked my father, confused. I looked behind myself to only go pale in the face. "What the fuck is he doing here?" I wondered, mumbling and shaking at a loss for words, that my father would continue to hurt me even after the will my mother left behind.

My father walked over towards the guy who violently assaulted me six years ago and got me in this mess, being hugged and cherished more than I have ever received from my father. I was born to be tormented and tortured by the man who was supposed to nourish and love me unconditionally.

"Watch your mouth, boy. This successful young man's family is a potential business partner. I asked them if their son had any time to partner with my son on a chance to redeem himself in my eyes and achieve his mother's wishes. They said he doesn't have any other obligation on their end, so I asked them to help you help me." My father said coldly as he twisted the words of my dead mother into my face.

Michael Rose is the guy who has broken me even more than I have ever been. He destroyed my image of my mother of ever being saved from my torment of a place that started to 'repair' broken young men and women. Michael was another broken boy, but he was indeed troubled but as a troublemaker. He always pulled pranks and bullied me here and there. However, everyone on the campus loved him, from the Holy Father to all the students who attended the school. After my little explosive moment with him in one of the sports teams' supplies shed, they loved him even more, giving him a chance to leave school early. However, I heard he rejected the opportunity and stayed until graduation like I did.

Now, at the age of 21, I look at him. He is taller than before and relatively in shape. His eyes are still the same shade of icy blue from all those years ago, and he has the same dark brownish-black hair to follow suit. I trusted this person with my mind, body, and soul. He desecrated all three of them in a matter of a short year. He smiled at me as he turned to my father with concern.

"I am not sure this will work out, Mr. Brimfield. Your son is uncomfortable with me being here." Michael mentioned it to my father. My father looked at me and back to him with a cocked brow.

"Wait in his room until I am done with him. My butler will walk you to his room. I will get to the bottom of this foolishness." My father growled as he dismissed Michael from his office, closing the door behind him. My father locked the door and walked over towards me. "You have the nerve to make a fool out of me again. Did you learn anything after all these years besides shitting yourself? I honestly swear you can be hopeless and disgraceful." My father slapped me in the face as he stabbed me with more words of affirmation that all of this was nothing more than a lie.

I stumbled, falling in front of his desk. I stare at my father, shaking at the countless beatings and punishments that occurred in this room. This place was never a happy place. The very fact that this room used to be my mother's library turned into yet another one of his offices to build another wall between my own escape from his tyrannical rule over my mind and displace my mother further away from me.

"He was the one that broke my trust all those years again! You expect me to just forget about everything he did to me! That will never happen!" I shouted at my father, pulling myself up from the ground.

My father walked over swiftly, picking me up and slamming me onto his desk. He slapped me twice across the face as he stared into my eyes with the same rage he did when I was defending myself all those years ago from my rapist. He slammed me over and over again onto his desk, feeling my heart break each time he dropped me. Why couldn't it have been you?

"If he did all those things, you should have begged forgiveness when they tried to press charges against you. It took all your hard work to get a good lawyer to acquit all the charges against you, Emerson. When I finally thought you would become a man like your father. Respectable. Honorable. Disciplined. I thought I could even start calling you my son rather than Adanna's boy. You turned around and pulled this shit. The boy was in intensive care for over a year. He even forgives you for the assault, but you, of all people, believed you were better than God himself and refused it. Take this opportunity as a form of redemption for your past discrepancies and reflect." My father drilled into my mind once again.

I felt tears fall down my face. I always wanted to hear those words come from his mouth. He pulled me up from the desk and pulled me in for a vile embrace. I stood there in fear of what he may do next. He pulled me in tighter, leaning close to my right ear. "You better not fuck this up, son. If you do, you can relive that same event for the next thirty to fifty years. If that event happened, of course." My dad mentioned pushing me out of his office to get back to work before.

Why did my mother have to leave me instead of him? I try my hardest every day to one day get his approval again, like when I was younger. I missed the man who saw me as one of his successful projects. The happiness that left him was euphoric. He was happy for months. He would play with me, read books, and have countless sleepovers. Now, I look back at it to see if it was indeed the happy memories he provided, or were they simply requests from my mother to bond with me since he wanted an heir to the company someday.

I walked up the stairs in shame to just crawl into my bed and cry my eyes out for yet another failed attempt to appease my father's hunger for higher glory and happiness. I walked into my room to see my abuser extinguishing my escape from the world engulfed by my father. I want to push him out of my window and kill myself in the process to make my father suffer both in his career and honestly as a father.

I left the door open just in case something happened. Michael walked towards me, keeping his distance. He stared at my face and my unkempt clothes. "I heard a lot of shouting down there. I never knew Mr. Brimfield to be so vocal. He was always a man of a few words. I know you properly didn't forget about me, but I was finally able to talk to you after all this mess." I glared at Michael as he said those words with such a chirping tone. Even now, he is mocking my domestic abuse and the abuse I experienced from him secondhand.

"Why the fuck are you here? Didn't you do enough to hurt me? You were my only friend for a long time and stole six long years from me. You suppose a little conversation between us would fix my lost teenage years, and the invasive therapy sessions would alleviate what happened all those years!" I yelled at Michael, crying my eyes out as all those words and the ability to stand against him finally gave me something he stole from me to reappear. My ability to think and be selfish.

"It might not be, but I am willing to start over. I never got the chance to tell you that I was sorry. I took advantage of you and your loneliness and did things that no one should ever do to someone. I understand that you may not trust me again, but I know that your father believes I didn't do anything to you. He even tried to see if I would storm out of this room after my plea for forgiveness. He even threatens you with the same assault I caused you six years ago. I was an idiot trying to feed off anything that would make me feel good. If you want to continue where you left off, I have accepted that year after my release from the hospital." Michael stated firmly as he walked closer, dropping a heavy object in my hands.

I opened my eyes to see it was a pistol with a silencer on it. I looked at him in horror yet glee. I have the chance, with no restraints, to end the life of the person that harmed me. I checked the magazine and saw nothing there. I disarmed the gun to see if the chamber had a round in it, but to my shock, the gun was empty. Michael pulled out a necklace with a bullet stained with dried blood on it, sealed in a fairy bottle.

"Is this some sick joke, Michael? Is giving me this gun to kill you as a returned favor for what you did to me?" I asked him as my blood began to boil. He walked over towards me with a hug. I can feel my heart and breathing quickly start to accelerate.

"It is what I can do, at least. After I lead them all to this point, including you." Michael told me softly as if his voice had gotten remorseful. I looked up at him, trying to connect the decaying nerves in my brain to make one last critical thinking point before I potentially fail my father and especially my mother again.

"What did he hire you for?"

"To be your friend again."

You can't be serious. Is my father trying to help me for a chance, or is he trying to redeem himself for lost time? I have to figure that out.

A/N

I hoped I did not run you all away from this shameless and shotty comeback sort of. Awkward thinking this is how I wanted to return, but here I am back at last somewhat. See you in the next chapter.

#lgbtq #love #lost #pain #trust

0 notes

ankulometes · 9 months ago

Text

The Travellers, Vol 5, Pt 6: The Second World War

Clearly, by the 1930s, several of the variants had succeeded in making something of a name for themselves. The likes of Delaney and Moore, Fairchild and Falconer, or Nolan and Wilde were well known and often highly regarded people in their respective industries. However, they were not public figures and far from being anything like celebrities, as such things were at the time. You could quite easily buy a Rover car or a wireless set from Mercury without having any idea who owned these companies. Similarly, neither Edward Fairchild nor Maurice Falconer had been the face of any of their spectacular flying feats. Many of the others were still toiling away quietly in the medical profession or academia, earning a respectable living but hardly making headlines. Their collective impact on the world had not been insignificant but, by deliberate design, it had been a long way from world changing. Events continued to unfold much as they had in MOT.

[[MORE]]

Naturally though, given their positions, several members of the team were contacted by the British and American governments and military establishments during the 1930s. The British army wanted new tanks and vehicles and the RAF wanted planes. Lots of them. And they all needed radios and electronics. Some of the more secretive interests in the establishment were keen to know what the Advanced Tabulating Machine Company or some of the variant academics might be able to do to help the country in its hour of need.

Ultimately, the British (and the Americans) would have access to a range of rather good fighter and bomber aircraft from BAC along with some very effective vehicles from Rover. Their efforts to decrypt German communications at Bletchley would be even more effective than it had been in MOT, while the British forces themselves gained an encrypted telegraph device that used elliptic key pairs to secure their comms without the need for any shared secrets. The Allies built bombs capable of homing in on radio or heat signals and possessed radar-guided anti-aircraft defence systems. The British, Canadian, and Australian treasuries received quite a significant boost from North Star’s mining operations. The Ministry of Food was proactively supported by Lockwood & Hunter, with many of the practices and products they advocated effectively spreading by government edict, along with some much-needed capital investment in machinery. There was as a result a slight improvement in the nation’s ability to feed itself. By the end of the war, BAC had started to build jet-powered aircraft and even came up with a gas turbine engine that was used to drive helicopters and hovercraft. They were a massive boon for the D-Day landings. In the end, they shortened the war in Europe by almost 6 months.

However, the overall nature of the conflict was largely unchanged. Much as had been the case with the Great War, the period over which the hostilities continued was as much to do with attrition and logistics as it was specific weapons, while the resulting settlement was more to do with political agreements than anything else. Germany was partitioned and the Soviets gained their desired sphere of influence in Eastern Europe. The war in Asia was eventually settled by the Americans using the Atom bomb before the USSR could advance far enough into China to stake a claim in the peace. At least the slightly early finish in Europe did allow for a proper harvest throughout much of the continent in 1945.

As they had done in the last war, the variants did their bit without going overboard with any divergent interventions. Generation zero, officially born in the 1870s, came out of retirement to oversee business concerns, to serve as doctors and nurses, or join the Home Guard. They provided a refuge for Jews fleeing Nazi persecution, took in as many evacuee children as they could house, and turned as much of their land over to intensive food production as was feasible.

Meanwhile, the first generation, born around 1900 and in their mid to late thirties at the start of the conflict, were mostly serving in roles such as doctors, nurses, scientists, cryptographers, engineers, and translators. However, a few, like the Greys before them, had opted to pursue the “pure” military path and gain rank prior to the conflict with one eye on subsequent careers in politics. As for their children, born from around the mid-1920s onwards, they were too young to be involved. Even the eldest among them who reached conscriptable age toward the end of the conflict all went on to university and were thus exempt, even if they were nonetheless required to contribute to the war effort in whatever ways were felt appropriate to young lads of their age, social background, and skill set.

0 notes

denimbex1986 · 1 year ago

Text

'Christopher Nolan believes J. Robert Oppenheimer is the most important person who ever lived. “By unleashing nuclear power,” the film director concludes, “he gave us the power to destroy ourselves.” Nolan might exaggerate, but Oppenheimer, the subject of Nolan’s hit movie, is surely worthy of the title most often applied to him, “father of the atomic bomb.”

Oppenheimer ran the Manhattan Project at Los Alamos, N.M., during World War II, managing a team of the smartest physicists he could recruit. Together, they created the bomb — atomic energy, the nuclear age — in a remote corner of America’s Southwest.

In delivering us into the atomic age, Oppenheimer also became the father of the Anthropocene. Given his anguish about America’s deploying his nuclear weapon in 1945, I suspect “Oppie” would also agonize about his ownership of our current geologic time period. Nevertheless, he and his fellow physicists gave us the indicator — what geologists call the “golden spike” — that marks a new epoch in Earth history.

Earth scientists have been debating whether to add this new epoch to their time scale for two decades. In 2019, they reached agreement: If you’re alive now you live in the Anthropocene — a geologic epoch incorporating humans in its very definition: “Anthropo,” as in anthropology, meaning “human”; and “cene,” as in so many recent geologic epochs — Miocene, Pleistocene — meaning “recent” or “new.”

Until the International Commission on Stratigraphy sealed the change with a vote, we were living in the Holocene, the “wholly recent” — a relatively uneventful 12,000 years that started at the end of the Ice Age.

But 8 billion humans now inhabit our planet. Our influence has become so extreme, so pervasive, that we must take responsibility for a new era.

We casually burn fossil carbon from plants that grew 200 million years ago. We alter the climate. We strew waste across the Earth from our industrialized societies. As global temperatures rise and habitats are disrupted, we speed up the course of evolution. And, beginning with Oppenhemer’s “gadget,” our nuclear bombs have blanketed the Earth with radioactive fallout.

Anthropocene. The “peopled recent.” Humans have taken command of geological time. It’s an astonishing thought.

Geologic time periods are graphed, with beginning and ending dates. When did humans take over? When did the Holocene end and the Anthropocene begin?

Historians and anthropologists look back to the dawn of the Industrial Revolution or even further, to the adoption of agriculture or the “Columbian Exchange,” when Columbus’ explorations brought together the Eastern and Western hemispheres, scattering once-geographically limited species across the globe. Indigenous people did plenty of landscape management, burning and deforesting when it suited their needs, but it took thousands of years of increasing human interventions to arrive at a geologic hinge point: “an observable, unambiguous change in the physical properties or fossil content of the strata.”

Radioactive plutonium that drifted to Earth in the first years of Oppenheimer’s nuclear age provides geologists with a recognizable, mappable layer in the Earth’s crust — perhaps the most pervasive signal of any marker between geologic time periods. This summer, geologists even settled on a “type locality” for the Anthropocene marker: Crawford Lake, Ontario. This little suburban lake happens to be extraordinarily deep, with perfect chemistry for chronicling annual deposits of sediment, pollution and pollen grains over thousands of years. The lake’s record shifts abruptly in 1950, when plutonium shows up, drifting across the continent from nuclear bomb tests in Nevada and the Pacific.

A worldwide spike in fly ash from burning coal also occurs in 1950. And so most stratigraphic experts have settled on 1950 as the curtain-raiser for the Anthropocene.

The first device that blasted fallout into the atmosphere exploded at the Trinity site on July 16, 1945. The next month the United States bombed Hiroshima and Nagasaki — killing 200,000 people, bringing World War II to a close. But we kept developing, testing and exploding fission and fusion weapons after the war, more than 2,000 times, across the world. Only North Korea is still testing today.

Geologic epochs last for thousands and even millions of years. But the Anthropocene — initiated by human interference and likely to end by it as well — may be the shortest of them all.

At Los Alamos and beyond, J. Robert Oppenheimer inspired people. His scientific work was groundbreaking, but his primary skill was successfully corralling dozens of fiery and brilliant minds.

When his team succeeded, when the Trinity gadget exploded, Oppenheimer both exulted and mourned. He said, “We knew the world would not be the same.” And then, after Japan was bombed, he told President Truman, “I have blood on my hands.”

That blood, that stain, the evidence of human hubris and unfettered intellect and meddling with the powers of the universe doesn’t end with nuclear power. The Anthropocene denotes more than just the harnessing of the atom.

We keep rummaging through metaphors and vocabulary for the right words to describe the transformation we’ve caused in the Earth’s chemistry, climate and biodiversity. “The Great Acceleration” signifies even more human meddling than the geologists address. I’d love to be able to ask Oppenheimer, the patriarch, the prime accelerator, the man who gave us that fateful push into this epoch, what words he would use.

With his deep respect for Hindu teachings, Oppie might simply repeat his famous quotation from the Bhagavad Gita, the words that came to him after he saw the blinding light of the first nuclear explosion, “the radiance of a thousand suns” in the New Mexico desert: “Now I am become Death, the shatterer of worlds.”

Oppenheimer indeed shattered our world when he ushered us into the Anthropocene. As Christopher Nolan has said of his complicated protagonist, “Like it or not, we still live in his world, and we always will.”'

#Christopher Nolan #Oppenheimer #The Manhattan Project #Bhagavad Gita #Los Alamos #Anthropocene

1 note · View note

aceofwonders · 2 years ago

Note

8, 9, 25 for maizakeen and nolan!

ty alana 🧡// oc development questions

—does your oc prefer being in a crowd or being completely alone? how many people can be around them before they get uncomfortable?

MAIZAKEEN — she would much prefer a crowd as she doesn’t particularly like being completely alone. when she’s alone with her thoughts that’s prime time for her ghostly voices to flood in (which she has gotten used to dealing with but sometimes they can be distracting and disrupt what is supposed to be her quiet personal time). I also imagine the noise of a crowd is a good distraction from the base line volume of her inner voices. she has spent so much time alone in her life I think it would take A LOT crowd wise to make her uncomfortable. she’d just be excited to see that many people in one place tbh

NOLAN — if he’s wanting to relax he’d prefer to be alone (or with limited amount of people). because his passive perception is so damn high and he can’t really turn off Detective Mode, when in a crowd he just gets sucked into observing and taking it all in which he’s down to do if he’s working but again if he wants to relax at all he’s gotta avoid that shit. and I’d say he’d start to get uncomfortable at a Massive gathering only because he’d be anxious about something illegal/dangerous happening somewhere because he can’t see the whole place at once...rest in peace to this guy always being on high alert he needs a vacation

—how easily does your oc make friends? do they have difficulty talking to new people? why?

MAIZAKEEN — she had a terrible time making friends growing up between her isolation and her Spooky Girl reputation. she’s definitely gotten more confident in recent years and is pretty good at talking to new people (she’s just dealing with outside perceptions) but now that she’s leaving home (and that reputation behind) she’s hoping she can just jump in and make some friends! it’s literally one of her personal goals lol

NOLAN — when he was younger he was pretty good at talking to new people and making friends but ever since he became a workaholic detective that’s a big NOPE! he’s way too focused on stopping crime and solving conspiracies and finds it hard to talk about literally anything else. which is why the few friends he has kept up are other cops…every time I answer a question about this man I realize he desperately needs some help lmao

—how does your oc handle being sick? do they pretend not to be? do they complain a lot? how susceptible to getting sick are they?

MAIZAKEEN — I’m gonna decide right now that she’s just one of those people who rarely ever gets sick. when she does she lays around all pathetic, though she doesn’t complain all that much as she doesn’t want to pester others with her meager health issues. the only person she’d really bother and ask to help her out would be her fiancée tbh

NOLAN — probably doesn’t get sick too often but oh he absolutely hates it when it happens. he doesn’t have time for that it is an obstacle to his work! he will 100% pretend to not be ill and will continue to go about his day until someone forces him to go home and sleep it off or he literally passes out…once again help him!

#nolan needs an intervention #unfortunately he can't rest until the mob is dealt with #but you know after that #but yeah maisie is desperately wanting to make friends it's not even funny #luckily she's got an adventuring party in her future lol #ch: maizakeen morgrave #ch: nolan strongjaw #oc asks

3 notes · View notes

goblincave666 · 3 years ago

Text

puppy pack dynamic (roles, development) in my humble opinion, had there been a spinoff or smth along those lines

liam: tries to be the leader. really does. stressed 24/7 but pretends not to be. isn’t really built for leading like scott was, but still tries anyways. struggles to ask for help sometimes. can snap bc of the ied. mainly he struggles to believe in himself because he sees himself as kind of irrational & incapable, so that lack of confidence can kinda get in the way of leading. he’s trying his best. generally likes everyone, even corey (who he’s kinda warming up to.) when theo shows up he’s the one who convinces everyone he’s worth keeping & it’s a whole disaster.

mason: the therapist friend who secretly needs therapy. he really went through it, so he mainly copes w the teenage near death experience by trying to make everything okay for everyone. very helpful & stuff. usually people realize when he’s overworking himself. liam and corey had to stage an actual intervention once. he kinda resents being human sometimes because he gets tired & hurt so much easier. eventually though he realizes that he does, in fact, have needs, and can put them over others sometimes. a wild realization. overall he’s energetic & the glue that holds all of them together. he even kinda warms up to theo after a while. kind of a long while, but hey

theo: definitely keeping his distance at first. most of the instances in 6A & 6B when he helped were sheer coincidence, and when they weren’t it’s because he needed to be there to help. after all of the repressed guilt resurfaced like an open wound i’m assuming the guy doesn’t really see himself as fun to be around. so liam probably has to drag him kicking & screaming to help out, and even more kicking and screaming to actually hang out with everyone. and by then the others catch onto the fact that he might be here to stay and really don’t like it. as much as we want theo redemption, he’s also done some horrible shit to everyone, so i think it’ll take time for the others to forgive theo. hell it’ll even take theo some time to forgive theo. but once they do i think they’ll probably show him how to actually be a teenager & a person again.

corey: honestly by the end of 6B he still hadn’t warmed up to anyone except mason really. in the beginning he’s probably closed off & maybe even apathetic seeming, and contrary to fandom portrayal i don’t think he’s really that soft either. he’s kind of snappy and logical for the most part in canon. so even though he’s chill around hayden & liam i think actually being close with the others would take a bit of time, as well as learning how to think quick during the constant life threatening situations beacon hills has to offer. also he spies for them generally & maybe has like a weapon of some sort

hayden: criminally underdeveloped by jeffery davis but i’ll try. uhh she’s generally badass & puts on a brave face but i feel like she’s scared of anything bad happening to her sister, since, presumably, her sister is THE ONLY FAMILY SHE HAS LEFT. there could definitely be some conflict around that. in the pack itself she’s very down to earth & realistic about things. probably the closest w liam since they dated & now they’re kinda frenemies and bicker a lot.

nolan: so i talk about how i would probably axe 6B but if i didn’t, nolan would be awkward & kind of adjacent to the puppy pack. he’d help, & he’d have the hunting skills to boot, but at first everyone would be wary of him & he’d keep his distance. after a little while i think he’d integrate but it’d take some time.

brett: the most chaotic member. flirts with literally everyone. what do you mean he’s dead. he’s not dead. shut

#teen wolf #puppy pack #liam dunbar #mason hewitt #theo raeken #corey bryant #hayden romero #nolan from teen wolf #brett talbot #teen wolf meta #teen wolf season 5 #teen wolf season 6 #let’s say #hypothetically #i went in a time machine #and ghostwrote a spinoff #for jeff davis

111 notes · View notes

freedomarrow · 2 years ago

Text

Lughnasadh [awakening drabble]

“This is Lughnasadh. It’s been stored away in the vaults of Daein, waiting for someone worthy enough.”

And that someone is supposed to be him?

Fingers run across the bowstring. A thousand times now used, perhaps, and still yet to ever snap or even show any sign of damage. Resilient, that one. Strained to its limits more than once, but going strong nevertheless, ready to protect that which must be cherished.

This, at least, the two of them have in common. He too, after all, has pushed himself many times beyond what he considered physically possible. Can he tell he escaped it all unscathed? No, not at all; unconsciously, his right hand runs across his left shoulder, the soft fabric of his Academy uniform all that conceals from the world four wide scars running across his back. A little token of remembrance from a Tiger laguz who knew how to render an archer defenseless - had it not been for the timely intervention by Nolan, he would have paid the ultimate price for letting himself get caught;

— and a harsh reminder of the Daein of yesterday, that they must now strive to leave behind if they are to make things right. A Daein of hatred - hatred that he once fought in the name of. The deep wounds were healed by Micaiah and Laura’s joint effort, their skill irreplaceable and impeccable as always; and yet, administered too late to prevent these scars from being left behind. Which Leonardo, in all honesty, does not mind. It almost feels fitting to have these, perhaps consider them a punishment of sorts for what once was, a symbol of what must not be allowed to happen again.

He remembers vividly, how he willingly offered his arm to the claws in order to shield his precious bow. After all, Lughnasadh is far more important than him. If his weapon is lost, he is worthless in battle; if he falls, Lughnasadh can still be given for someone else to wield. (And that someone else would probably do a better job.)

(How many times now has Edward berated him for this way of thinking? And yet, he cannot help but see himself as inadequate. That he was there, that he received Lughnasadh, was nothing more than a coincidence; surely there was a more suitable candidate available—)

... a hiss passes through clenched teeth, of surprise more than pain when, as though to penalize his hesitation and absentmindedness, his finger gets caught on the bowstring, suffering a small cut. Fantastic.

“Sorry,” he mutters, only then realizing he had done so out loud. Sighing quietly, he gets up from his bed and walks over to his desk; producing a clean cloth and some water, he applies them onto the cut to keep it clean and wait out the bleeding.

Carelessness can cost him much more than a wound like this, and he knows that; so why does he continue to be like this?

He ponders; what would his friends - his family - say if they saw him like this? Edward would, in his typical fashion, likely find it ridiculous and laugh it off, and eventually he would laugh as well... Nolan would - a quiet chuckle suddenly bubbles up in Leonardo’s throat when his imagination produces such a clean image of the back pat he would receive, that he can almost feel it. Sothe would probably shake his head and criticize his hesitation - that one does not stop himself from saying what others need to hear. Micaiah would smile and offer words of reassurance, not stopping until he believed her, or at least thought he did...

Turning his head, he looks at Lughnasadh again, resting on his bed, waiting calmly for him to regain his bearings. His eyes follow the line of the bow’s golden trim, and he feels so silly he almost wants to laugh out loud; he does not, but a faint smile does creep its way onto his lips.

Him wielding his bow is a coincidence indeed, and nothing more. But why treat it as a mistake, when he should instead see it as a chance? A chance to better himself - for his family, his friends, his country. A chance to protect those dear to him. A chance to let his miraculously spared life have some meaning.

Once his finger has stopped bleeding, he picks up the bow again, marveling for the thousandth time at how well its shape and weigh feel in his hand. “I’m not worthy of you, not yet,” he says quietly, though his smile does not wane.

“But I swear that I will never stop trying to be.”

#【 i have my orders ⁎ ic 】#【 i am no stranger to loneliness ⁎ drabble 】#awakening drabble: lughnasadh #word count: 785

4 notes · View notes

andy-clutterbuck · 3 years ago

Note

Happy Birthday, Larry!!! :party: I'm so glad your parents got freaky and you were the fastest sperm. :nutmilk: :awkward: Maybe this year will be the year you get Andy's thighs on your cake but if not I hear there's some fake meat you can choke on. :cb: You're my chick-fil-a too 🥳

Only you would phrase it that way, Brenda, thanks :dickloaf: And that's why I love hate you so much. I'd only share my lemmon pie with you :stickbeat: The thigh cake is the holy grail at this point, I'll make it myself one day, if I have to. You know I love choking on fake meat :creeper: Too much, probably, but Nolan said I didn't need an intervention so that's the gospel truth now. :frogcool: :cbdoingnate:

#rip to anyone else reading that #asks #brenda and i just like looking like lunatics in 'public' for fun #nothing we said was a lie tho #bernthalus christ

6 notes · View notes

scribomaniac · 4 years ago

Text

Something Wicca This Way Comes Ch 6

@andiirivera @blackwidownat2814 @gryphbear @meredeph @jonesfandomfanatic @forget-me-not-s @groovyfoxpeace @superchocovian @therealstartraveller776 @stahlop @kmomof4 @teamhook

The Jones brothers had had one hell of a week. It had all started with Liam scouring the Book of Shadows for a demon or entity that could’ve vanquished the judge at the courthouse. Then, a few days later when Liam discovered some cloaked demon trying to steal the book, he dove even deeper into its contents in an attempt to figure out who or what was after them. Liam had crammed his nose so far into the book it was a wonder it didn’t become part of the binding. Even Tink couldn’t tear him away for longer than five minutes.

Will and Killian had just begun discussing their concerns when a portal had thrown the three brothers into the past, forcing Liam to focus on the present. Well, sort of. At any rate, they’d helped a man rescue his pregnant wife, delivered the baby, and discovered the baby boy was their ancestor, Stede Bonnet.

After that surprisingly heartwarming adventure to the past, things in the Jones house had settled down some. Everything seemed to return to normal, or as normal as it ever really got for the Charmed Ones. Will was able to catch up on some of his school work, Liam and Tink had been trying out new recipes for the pub, and Killian had acquired Emma’s number. For a while, it was almost like they were just normal men.

Until Liam decided to ruin it all by being the perfect witch that he was. “Look at this,” he said one morning in the kitchen, as Will ate his breakfast cereal and Killian read the newspaper. Liam dropped the book atop the table, the weight of it causing a loud bang to reverberate through the room and the table to shake. Will’s honey-nut loops splattered out of the bowl and into his lap.

“Thanks,” Will grabbed at some napkins to sop up the mess.

“Look,” Liam said again, pointing at the page he’d opened the book to. “The Firestarter, an extremely rare and coveted magical creature. I’ll bet you guys anything this is what we saw at the courthouse.”

Killian kept reading from where he sat, noticing Liam had left a lot out. Will leaned back in his seat and asked, “What makes you so sure? We’ve seen demons burn others before. Even the judge could throw fireballs. Not powerful ones,” he shrugged, “but still.”

“It’s more of a gut feeling than anything else, but my instincts have never been wrong before.”

“Hold on,” Killian stood up to get a closer look at the text, “this says Firestarters are mortal, that they can be good or evil.” He looked between both brothers, “If it is a Firestarter, maybe they were there to help.”

Will picked his spoon back up, but before taking a bite he asked, “Then why didn’t they stick around and say so?”

“Will has a point, and look at this,” Liam pointed to the bottom of the text, “they’re usually bodyguards of the Source. That’s what caught my attention.” Liam’s eyes were wide and bright, his back perfect straight as he laid out his theory, “What if the Source sent his bodyguard to attack us? If they’re mortal then they could be anyone.” His eyes flashed towards Killian, then quickly away.

“But then why would they help us?” Killian asked, reaching for the book, “Why not just--” As soon as his fingers touched the ancient page Killian’s breath left his lungs and his eyes fluttered to a close.

A woman slept soundly in her hospital bed, her short dark hair a sharp contrast against her pale white skin. There was a slight sheen of sweat over her brow. She looked tired, but happy. Glowing, almost.

Killian recognized the woman easily enough, having become very acquainted with her through her husband. It was Mary Margaret.

Beside Mary Margaret, in a small plastic crib, was a new born baby. She was wrapped in what looked to be a hand knitted blanket. There was something embroidered on the side of it, but Killian couldn’t quite make it out. The baby was so small, her fingers no longer than an inch at the most. Her big eyes were open, taking in her new world.

Then a shadow fell over her. The baby raised her hands and began to fuss, but soon a woman appeared and cooed at the baby to quiet her.

Killian knew at once this woman didn’t belong in the room, and that she wasn’t mortal. Her long black hair was pinned up with feathers and her floor length dress glittered with its many diamonds. She reached for the baby, a wicked smile pulling at her lips. The demon woman looked over to the still sleeping Mary Margaret and said, "Fair's fair."

Then she and the baby disappeared.

With a gasp and a shudder, Killian was brought back to the present.

"Killian?" Liam asked, placing a steadying hand on his younger brother's shoulder.

"I think," Killian paused and looked down at the page before him, "I think I just saw a demon kidnap Nolan's daughter."

Liam frowned, "What does that have to do with the Firestarter?"

Shaking his head, Killian said, "No bloody idea."

After that Will threw his empty bowl into the sink and headed up to his room to get dressed while Killian and Liam perused the book. They hoped to identify the demon that stole the Nolan baby, but the Book of Shadows was hardly considered a light read, and not every description came with an illustration.

Feeling a kink developing in his neck, Killian sighed and called it, "I need a break."

Liam didn't move, but he did release a low hum of acknowledgement. Watching him for a second longer, Killian wished he had half his drive and perseverance.

"I'll go check the mail." The newspaper on their street was always delivered at the same time every morning, but the mail time always fluctuated. Sometimes their mailman, Verne, started on their street and they received it about the same time as the paper, but sometimes he'd start on the other side of his route or a few streets in, depending on his load or where he'd be going after his shift.

Killian opened the front door and found a long white box on their stoop. There was no other mail, just the box. He picked it up and found a small note taped to it.

“Will, mate,” Killian called from the foyer, looking down at the box in his hands. “You’ve got a package. Flowers I think.”

“Flowers?” Will repeated as he came down the stairs fully dressed. “From who?”

Killian shrugged and placed the box on a table, “Maybe that lad you went on a date with last weekend. Or were supposed to at least.” Killian winced as he remembered how Will had had to call the date off due to some minor demon activity.

“Peter? That’s weird,” Will took off the box’s lid, “we’re gonna meet up tonight so maybe--ugh! What the hell?”

Covering his nose at the foul stench, Killian looked down at the withering petals and wriggling mealworms. Truly it was more shocking than anything. Who would do this? Throwing the lid back on, Killian grabbed the box and bee-lined it straight for the front door. “What the bloody hell,” he muttered as he threw the contents into the bushes.

Looking back at his younger brother, he asked, “You piss someone off lately?”

Eyes as wide as saucers, Will shook his head, “Not like that! You sure it was from Peter?”

“It didn’t say, maybe it was a prank?”

Will’s brows rose, “You think?”

Heading towards the bathroom to wash his hands--he didn’t touch anything, but his skin suddenly felt like something was crawling over him--he asked over his shoulder, “You in a prank war with anyone?”

“What’s all this then?” Liam asked, peeking his head out from the kitchen.

“Will received a box of bugs,” Killian said loudly over the running water. “Don’t worry, they didn’t get on anything.”

“A box of bugs?” Liam frowned, “Do you think it could’ve been a demon?”

Will snorted, “What demon sends flowers?”

“I don’t know, I’ll check the book.” And off he went, back the way he came to bury his nose in the old familiar pages.

After drying his hands, Killian shook his head and sighed, “So much for that. He’s worse than before.”

“You think we should talk to him about it? Or Tink?”

“You make it sound like he needs an intervention.” Will lowered his gaze and raised a brow. Killian pursed his lips, “Hey, it’s Liam. He knows what he’s doing.”

“Right,” Will said slowly. “I’m going to call Peter.”

“I’ll be at the pub!” Killian said before heading out the door. The pub wouldn’t be open to the public for a few more hours at least, but at least there he could be productive--and hopefully remain bug free.

There were only two other workers there, August, the assistant manager, and Walter, the dozy man who acted as a daytime security guard. “Walter,” he greeted, patting the older man on the shoulder and jerking him awake.

Walter’s eyes bulged and his surprised gasp turned into a stuttered snort, “Ah, wha--what? Oh, hi Killian.”

“You’re here early,” August said by way of greeting. He jerked his chin towards the pub’s entrance behind Killian, “You alone?”

“Aye,” Killian took a seat at the bar and grabbed a cleaning rag and a glass. “Liam’s doing some research back at the house and Will has class.”

August nodded and looked back down at his book, “Is Liam gonna come by soon? I have some questions,” he tapped his pencil against the book’s pages, “about last month’s numbers.”

Grabbing another glass, Killian said, “Not sure. He’s been a bit, ah--” he froze and realized he’d been about to say distracted. “Focused lately.”

“Right, right.” August sighed and pushed the book away. He grabbed his own rag and began to clean alongside Killian.

“How’s that book of yours coming?” Killian asked after several moments of silence. Well, save for Walter’s snores, which started up again not long after Killian had taken his seat. “It’s a mystery, right?”

“Oh yeah,” August huffed out a laugh, “I hit a bit of writer’s block.”

“Ah, sorry mate.”

August shrugged, “Don’t worry about it. Whenever something like this happens I have a foolproof plan to fix it.”

Grinning, Killian focused on a particularly difficult smudge, “Aye? And what’s that?”

Placing his clean glass to the side, August looked Killian straight in the eye and answered, “I get a change of perspective.”

They continued on like that until it was time for the pub to open. Walter’s relief, a tall woman named Ruby, came and took over checking ID’s and making sure drunks got into cabs and not their own cars. Liam did eventually show up to check on things, disappearing to the back room with August almost immediately. The assistant manager left soon after, and Killian took over his shift as bartender. Tink made an appearance as well, arriving later on in the evening.

For a small period of time, everything seemed normal. That should have tipped Killian off that something was wrong.

Not long after Ashley, a sweet, quiet girl with short blond hair, arrived and started serving patrons, Killian received a call. “Hey Will.”

“Hey Killian,” Will’s voice sounded strange, almost shakey.

“You alright, mate?”

“Yeah! Or, ah, no. Well,” Killian’s brows furrowed. The pub with its crowds had become too loud for a phone conversation, so he moved to the back office. “I just--can you and Liam come home? I think we were robbed.”

“What?” Killian’s brows shot up. Of all the things he’d expected his brother to say, it wasn’t that.

“Well no, I know we were robbed. Just,” Will sighed, “can you bring Liam home, please?”

Not needing to hear more, Killian grabbed Tink and Liam and after a rushed explanation, told Tink to orb them home.

The front door was open when they arrived. Tink and Liam rushed in to find Will and David talking in the living room. “Oh, Will!” Tink’s hands cupped Liam’s face, “You’re shaking. Here,” she pulled the blanket on the back of the couch over his shoulder. “I’ll go make you some hot coco. Don’t move.”

Killian picked up a piece of broken mirror and sighed. Looking around he took stock of their home; tables were overturned, the sofa’s stuffing had been ripped out, and Will’s plants laid scattered everywhere. Killian could only imagine what destruction awaited him in the rest of the house.

Tink returned and handed Will a mug, “Blow on it first.” She looked at Liam and said, “I’m going to check in with the Elders, see if they know anything.”

“Don’t take too long,” Liam said, kissing her on the cheek. Tink nodded before disappearing in a blur of white light.

“Did you notice anything about the intruder?” David asked Will, “Anything to help identify him?”

Will shook his head, “No, it was dark--all the lights were out.”

“Well there’s no sign of forced entry--”

“There wouldn’t be if it was a demon, would there?” Liam leaned against the fireplace. His jaw was so tight Killian could practically hear the grinding of his teeth.

Killian kicked away a piece of a vase, “Demons don’t usually vandalize.”

Liam opened his mouth to retort, no doubt about to list off several demons who did, indeed, vandalize homes, but David quickly asked, “Do you notice anything missing? Clothes, jewelry, household items?”

“No,” Killian shook his head, “but it’s a bit hard to tell at the moment.”

“All right, well we were able to lift some fingerprints and we’ll start running them tomorrow morning. What I want you guys to do is make up a list of enemies who may have a reason to do this.”

“Already done,” Liam pulled out a folded piece of paper from his back pocket and handed it to the detective.

Unfolding the list, David released a heavy sigh as he read its contents, “Grimlocks, Abraxas, Guardians--are there any humans on the list?”

Shrugging, Liam simply said, “Humans aren’t our problem, mate.”

“Demons don’t leave fingertips,” Will pointed out before taking a sip of his coco, steadfastly ignoring Liam’s glare.

“Look,” Killian quickly intercepted what he felt was an argument in the making. “We’ll make two lists. One for us and one for Nolan. That way all sides are covered.”

“I’m telling you this is a waste of time. It’s always a demon.” Liam ran a hand down his face, “Every second we waste making up a list is another that gives the demon a chance to attack.”

Killian sighed. Liam was usually right, and his argument here was sound, but his stubbornness with the list and his fixation on demons was growing to be a bit much. Especially for Will. The youngest Jones brother didn’t know the eldest like Killian did. They’d been together through thick and thin, and whatever Liam did, he did it for them. He was protective by nature, but sometimes that protectiveness could come off as smothering.

“You’re not always right, you know,” Will snapped, glaring into his mug. “Think about the flowers I got this morning. What demons does that?.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” David looked between Liam and Will, his hands up as if to keep them apart even though neither had moved an inch. “What’s this about flowers?”

“Someone sent me some dead flowers with bugs on them,” Will took another sip of his coco. “Killian found them on the doorstep with my name on them.”

“Aye,” Killian added, “there was no signature on it.”

“Will,” Liam sighed, “you’re one of the nicest kids out there. Who would want to hurt you? The flowers were just a prank.”

David ignored Liam’s words and continued on with his questions, “Do you have any idea who might have sent them? Anyone you might have slighted lately?”

Shrugging, Will pulled his blanket closer around him, “No. Not that badly anyway.”

“Even the slightest thing can set these types of people off. Believe me.” David rubbed at the crease between his brows, “Stalkers don’t need much.”

“What about Peter?” Killian asked, looking at his younger brother with his head tilted. “Didn’t you stand him up the other night?”

Will fidgeted, “Yeah, but,” he paused, thinking of the right words to use, “Peter’s not that type of person.”

“You never know,” David said solemnly. “Now, let’s talk about security. You guys have none.”

Liam rolled his eyes and pushed off from the mantle, “We don’t need security. We’re witches.”

Killian watched as his brother headed towards the kitchen. It was a wonder that Liam seemed more frustrated with the detective and his questions than the fact that their house had been broken into. He supposed that’s why he was so much better at this witch business than himself, Liam was never frazzled by the supernatural.

“Witches should still have alarm systems!” David called after him, his brows furrowed. Shaking his head, he said, “You guys should at least lock the door.”

“I lock the door,” Will said, almost pitifully as he shrank even further into his blanket.

Killian winced, “I sometimes do.” Honestly, it was a miracle he remembered to close it sometimes.

“And I lock the attic door,” Liam had returned with a glass of water in his hand. Three pairs of eyes turned to look at him curiously. “What?” He asked, “that’s where we keep the Book of Shadows. And after that demon almost got its hand on it I thought we should add the extra layer of protection.”

“You’ll lock a door for a book’s safety,” David started, his voice dry and tired, “but not your own?”

“We can handle ourselves.”

“Right,” David shook his head and took a few steps towards the door, “well I’ll keep you updated on what we find.”

Under his breath, so low only Killian could hear, Liam muttered, “Which will be nothing.”

David opened the door to leave, and found his partner on the other side. Emma took a step back, surprised by the sudden movement but recovered quickly, standing aside to let him pass.

“Emma!” Killian’s brows rose up high at her appearance. Behind him, Liam released a low hum as he sipped his water before walking back into the kitchen. “What are you doing here? Come in, come in.” He waved her in, quickly meeting her halfway in the foyer.

“I heard about the break in,” Emma’s frown was deeper than usual. She stepped further into the home as she took in the damage and her eyes widened when she noticed Will on the couch. Turning her focus back onto Killian she added, “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Killian nodded dumbly, completely awestruck that Emma was standing before him. “Aye, we’re all alright.”

“Is Will--”

“He’s fine too,” Killian quickly assured her, wincing as he also took in his younger brother’s pale face. He must’ve been more tired than Killian first thought. “I should probably help him up to bed though, but,” he paused, raising a brow at her, his lips curling into a grin “were you worried about me, Swan?

“Maybe,” Emma allowed herself a small step forward, then her eyes flashed over his shoulder and she raised her chin. “I should go though.” She took a big step back and looked down at her feet, her blond hair falling over her shoulders. “You guys need your rest.” Glancing up at him through her lashes she asked, “Call me tomorrow?”

Killian’s heart stuttered in his chest and for a moment he forgot how to breathe. “Of course,” he finally said, his lips stretching into a wide smile as he showed her out. “Good night, Swan.”

Emma smiled over her shoulder, “Good night, Killian.”

-----

Haha! This one’s actually edited before posting! I hope everyone enjoyed. A few notes...This was originally supposed to be longer but I was losing focus so I cut the chapter in half. I know exactly how I want the next chapter to go so I plan on starting it tomorrow. Then hopefully I can post another chapter mid week, and the next over the weekend. It’s ambitious so we’ll see how it turns out.

The next chapter will be more Emma centric and we’ll be seeing some Rumpel/Regina/Bae in it too.

Walter is Sleepy for those who may not know, and I just love the idea of Red being a bad ass bouncer.

Stede Bonnet AKA the gentleman pirate was alive roughly around the same time as Melinda Warren and I just thought it’d be a fun little detail to throw in.

I know Killian’s two premonitions so far have been of the past (they’re just so easy) but I’m sure I’ll soon be writing futuristic ones for him soon enough.

#charmed #ouat #captain swan #killian x emma #killian jones #emma swan #liam jones #liam ii jones #aka will #august booth #walter aka sleepy #david nolan #low key #regina mills

13 notes · View notes

klynn-stormz · 5 years ago

Text

Merry Christmas Indeed

Hi @thisonesatellite, I am your secret santa! here is your gift for @cssecretsanta2k19, I got this done a little earlier that I thought I would post this now! I hope you enjoy this and it lives up to your expectations! I am so grateful for the opportunity to get to know you and create this gift for you. This is a little bit of friends to lovers, with a dash of snowed in and a pinch of angst with a happy ending.

Summary:

Emma Swan has been best friends with Killian Jones since she was 8. When he suddenly disappears from her and her son’s life she thought she wasn’t enough. After finding out some secrets from an unfortunate ex, she decides to take the weekend before Christmas to figure out her feelings. So when Killian shows up to make sure she’s okay, she’s more than ready for some answers.

AO3

The cabin was settled far back off the little dirt road used for the National Park. The ground was covered in about six inches of snow from the previous few weeks, it glistened and sparkled in the mid-afternoon sun. The clearing for the cabin was small, cozy even, with tall thick trees surrounding and towering over it. Emma was lucky enough that the place had belonged to the Nolan’s long before the area was declared part of a National Park; it was the perfect way to get away for the week. With Christmas a few days away she was stressed enough, but after the enlightening breakfast at her parents’ house she really needed an escape. The jeep David had let her borrow navigated the snow easily, it wasn’t supposed to start snowing for another few hours, time enough for her to get all her supplies for the week into the cabin and start warming it up. David had reminded her of the generator in the back in case power went out, the storm wasn’t supposed to be too bad, but you never could be sure in Maine in December.

Emma closed her eyes briefly to listen to the quiet forest around her, she had only been here once or twice before, and always with David and Mary Margaret. At 25 years old she had only known her parents for eight years. They had been young when they had had her. After a lot of deliberation, arguing, family intervention and so on, they had decided to give her up for adoption. She was given to the Swan’s days after birth; when she was three, they were still in the process of adoption and found out they were having another baby, they didn’t want her anymore. Emma moved from foster home to foster home, never finding a place she fit. She had seen all kinds of ‘parents’ and been through hell with many of the homes, she met her best friend in the world though, and that was worth a lot. Eventually she ended up in a Boston foster home where her parents tracked her down at sixteen.

The jeep rolled to a stop near the front steps and she hopped out into the cold. For just a moment she took in the silence of the forest, living in a small town had gotten her used to quiet, but there was something almost magical about being all alone in the wood, she loved to wander and explore, though it was much too cold right now to do any of that. The cold wind whipped and whistled through the thick trees, creating a beautiful melody Emma hoped to fall asleep to. For a moment she considered unloading the car and sitting on the porch for a little bit, but she dispelled that thought quickly. She’d rather get settled in for the night. She had had a horrible day, which had come from a few horrible months, she needs to rest and think, that’s why she was here.

Her thoughts turned to her best friend, the one who had stuck by her through all the homes and moves, who had been noticeably absent the past few months. She had found out why early this morning, she wasn’t sure how to feel, it hurt, it made her angry, it made her sad. She sighed and hoped she would figure out what she wanted to do over the next few days. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, she pulled it out to find that Henry had texted her from Regina’s phone. He was the best thing to ever happen to her. Her little seven-year-old was the light of her life.

Mom! Gina snow gave me the phone to tell u I luv u! Thanks for letting me sleep at rolands for the week! We will have so much fun! She grinned at his words, thank heavens for autocorrect or she may not have understood him. Her little boy was growing up faster than she liked, and she was grateful to be a part of every moment. She sent a quick ‘I love you’ back and began unloading the car. — It was nearly midnight and she hadn’t managed to fall asleep. Her mind was still replaying the last few months, and especially this morning. When everything had come out she had bundled Henry up, dropped him off at a willing and worried Regina’s, and bolted for the cabin. Her mom and dad had been texting her nonstop since she left, trying to apologize and get her to come back, but she needed to think. It wasn’t that she didn’t see where they were coming from, it wasn’t even that she was mad at them. What she was mad at was that the entire situation came about because her ex thought he could come back into her life and she would jump into his arms. She was mad that it had been her best friend who had gotten hurt and decided to back off. Emma sighed a clutched her hot chocolate to her chest, she wished she had someone she could just spill the whole story too. As if on cue, a hard knock sounded at the front door.

Emma jumped off the couch, grabbed the gun she kept close. No one lived out here; the closest cabin was miles away. She figured it was probably David or Mary Margaret, tired of her ignoring their calls and texts, but you could never be too careful. When she flung open the door she startled, he was the last person she had been expecting. The night was dark, but not pitch black; the storm clouds in the sky cast an eerie white light she knew meant it would snow soon. He stood on the porch, wrapped in a thick black coat, jeans, a dark gray beanie, and his well-worn motorcycle boots.

Killian Jones was probably the most handsome man Emma had ever seen. It had taken her a long time to realize it though, having known him since she was 8 before she noticed boys. But he really was, seriously hot. His square jaw was lightly covered with stubble, she had the strong urge to rub her face on. His beautiful, brilliant blue eyes shined from the cabin porch light, a soft hopeful smile on his lips as he took her in. God, she wanted to throw her arms around him and cry, maybe never let go. It was this line of thought that drew her back from him, she could not deal with those thoughts when she was still struggling with everything.

“Jones.” She said softly, taking a step back into the cabin. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to- “He paused and cleared his throat; his right hand came up to scratch behind his ear. “I thought I’d come check on you.”

“You thought you’d come check on me.” She repeated, testing the words out. With them came a rush of her emotions from the last few months. “Why? You’ve been ignoring me for months now, and just happened to decide to come visit me? Who called you? Mary Margaret? Regina? Oh hell, it if was Ruby…”

Killian winced at the flatness of her tone. “May I come in love? Please?”

“Fine, but first.” She moved in front of him, her eyes fired with emotion. “I’m not your love, you lost that right when you disappeared.”

He nodded mutely and continued inside, a duffle bag she hadn’t noticed before, slung over his shoulder. She walked back into the living room, her mind racing with what she was going to do. Let him talk? Rant at him? Both? She wasn’t quite sure, hopefully she could send him back to town in the morning. Her phone rang and she glanced at it, Killian had made his way to the guest bedroom to set his stuff down. Ruby was calling.

“You bitch!” She growled into her phone when she answered.

“Hello to you too!” Ruby cheered back, not put out in the slightest by Emma’s menacing tone. “I sent a Christmas present your way. Have fun!”

“First, Christmas isn’t till Tuesday! There are four more days. Second, this isn’t a present this is a punishment! What the hell Ruby?”

“You missed him, he missed you. You had a stupid fight with your loving but overwhelming parents over the fact that your will never get with your ex, you haven’t talked to your best friend in months. This is totally a present, now you have Killian all to yourself and nobody to pester you.”

“He’ll pester me! Ruby, really, I appreciate the thought… I really do, but he was the one who stopped talking, he was the one who just left out of the blue. I really don’t need this today; I came to get away from the mess that is my life.” Emma blew out a breath and rubbed a hand down her face.

“What was that? You’re breaking up!” Ruby called, before promptly hanging up.

Emma sighed, she was so done with today, hell she was done with this year. When she turned from her place at the living room window she saw Killian standing there awkwardly, it was obvious he had heard at least the end of the conversation. She wasn’t going to feel bad, everything she said was the truth. He had ignored her, just left her, and it wasn’t even only her that he left. When he stopped talking to her, that meant Henry too. She wasn’t sure how to get over that.

“Lov—Lass I came to explain myself, if that helps put you at ease.” He began haltingly. “If we could just talk for a moment Emma, then I’ll leave, please.” The last part took on a begging tone.

All of the sudden the weight of the day seemed to crash down on her, she was exhausted. Emma closed her eyes and took a deep breath, she thought back to earlier in the year when he had told her she needed to start meditating.

“Swan, I’m telling you! It’s god for your soul.” He was playing on the living room floor with Henry, telling her about whatever new fad he had discovered.

“I think my soul will be just fine Jones.” She rolled her eyes at him, knowing that she would probably indulge him anyway. “Alright boys, pizza’s here, go wash up.”

That had been one of the last times she had spent time with him. It was memories like that that never failed to make her smile and hurt these days. After he had started to ignore her, she had actually looked into meditation, and found that it did help, at the very least if gave her exercises to calm herself down and put things in perspective. When she opened her eyes, she made her decision.

“Not tonight Killian, you can explain yourself over breakfast before you leave.” Emma was proud her voice didn’t shake or falter.

Killian nodded, bowing his head slightly. “Then let me say good night Swan, I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

She moved past him to the master suite. And to her surprise, she fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. —

Earlier that day

Christmas time in Storybrooke seemed like something out of a movie, Emma was fairly sure she had seen the street decorations on a Hallmark movie she’d watched last night. Waking up early, she played in the snow with Henry, who was excited for the light snowfall, and headed to her parent’s farmhouse for their traditional Saturday breakfast. Henry was babbling away, asking to spend the night with Roland, Regina’s new stepson, and wanting to know when Killian would drop by for decorating the Christmas tree. At that last question, Emma felt a squeeze in her heart, she doubted that he would be coming around anytime soon. The last time they had seen him was August 12th, and that was in passing, he had greeted Henry, gave Emma a small smile, and hurried away. The sting of that last encounter was still fresh.

They turned into the long drive of the farmhouse, it was settled on a few acres of land, and that’s when Emma noticed a car that hadn’t wasn’t familiar to her. She frowned, it wasn’t uncommon for Mary Margaret to invite people to their Saturday breakfast, but she normally gave Emma a head up first. Since Killian hadn’t been coming to breakfast, her mother had taken it upon herself to make Emma feel better by inviting many random people over.

“Gramma! Gramma!” Henry cried as Emma helped him out of the bug. Mary Margaret stood on the porch, only a light shawl wrapped around her shoulders despite the freezing temperatures. She beamed at Henry, ushering him inside to help his grandpa with setting the table.

“Honey! You were running a little late, I was getting worried.” Mary Margaret admonished.

“Henry was excited about the snow.” Emma explained, “He insisted on playing in it before we came over.”

Mary Margaret laughed. “Well shall we eat? Oh! I also invited a special guest over.” She said slyly.

Emma frowned, a feeling of unease twisting in her stomach. “Mom, you’re not going to try setting me up, again are you? I don’t want that, and I definitely don’t want that in front of Henry. Remember Walsh? Graham? August?” She could go on, but hoped she’d made her point.

“Oh no! This is much better sweety! You’ll see! I promise it’s a good surprise.” And then she was hustled into the warm house.

Her mother chattered about her week, moving her to the kitchen. It seemed to Emma that she wasn’t giving her a chance to back out. Her urge to take Henry and run was now going into overtime. Her bad feeling increased when she hears multiple male voices coming from the dining room, and then her vision went slightly red when she recognized the unknown voice. Neal.

She turned to her mother. “You didn’t, tell me you didn’t.”

Mary Margaret kept an innocent look on her face, while a slight gleam in her eye told Emma she in face did do it. She had invited Emma’s horrible ex, Henry’s father, to dinner with them. Neal had shown up back in town in early August, claiming he wanted another chance with her and time with Henry. How dare she keep him from him. She, of course, explained that he had lost those rights to see him when he had set her up for his crime and ran. Never mind the fact that the police had tracked him down at her request and told him about the pregnancy, never mind that he had willingly signed his rights away. When he threatened to sue for custody, her mother had suggested that they try to make their relationship work again. She was a firm believer in true love, and first loves. Neal hadn’t backed down, so even now, Emma was in the process of talking with a lawyer to make sure Henry would be staying with her. Mary Margaret couldn’t understand why Emma wouldn’t give Neal another chance, and she didn’t want to go through all the reasons they were wrong for each other. Including but not limited to the fact that Neal was 26 when he and Emma met, while she was 17.

She walked into the kitchen as calmly as she could, but couldn’t stop from stiffening when Neal came into view. Holding onto Henry, who was trying to squirm to the floor. He was at the age that he didn’t like to be held.

“Neal.” Emma spoke coolly. “Henry doesn’t want to be held.”

Neal rolled his eyes and set Henry down. He understood who Neal was, Emma had sat him down and explained a lot when Neal had first come to town. Killian had been there as well to help him, Emma remembered how worried Henry was that Killian would leave because Neal came back. Of course, Killian had told Henry he would never leave, and then just weeks later, had done just that. She really needed to stop thinking about him, it was not helping her.

“Let’s eat!” Mary Margaret called. The table was filled with their usual ginormous breakfast that they could never finish. So, Emma and Henry were sent home with piles of leftovers.

Once they were all seated, they dug in and talked about random topics. Mostly how Henry was liking second grade, and the fun arts and crafts he was doing. Emma was quiet through most of it, not wanting to talk to Neal, and annoyed at her parents for pushing her when she’d asked them not too. It wasn’t until Henry started talking about the summer that she paid attention and jumped into the conversation.

“And then after schools done, Killian said he’d take me sailing. Gramma did you know he knows how to nava—nava—travel by stars? He said he learned in the Navy! And his ship is huge! It looks like a pirate ship! I think I want to be a pirate for Halloween next year, and Killian can be a pirate too. He couldn’t come trick or treating this year cause he had to work, but I think he’ll be able to next year. He always comes with us. Anyway, he’s gonna show me how to be a real sailor. And Ms. Belle at the library gave me books on sailing and the pictures are awesome! Mom have you asked Killian if he’s coming to my parent job day? It happens in January and he said he would come, but he has lots of work right now and I don’t want him to forget, so you have to remind him.” Henry’s happy voice chattered while stuffing his face with waffles and bacon.

Neal had gone silent at Henry’s turn in conversation. Mary Margaret and David looked uncomfortable. And Emma was annoyed at their reactions more than anything. Killian had been a staple in Henry’s life since he was born, he was there on visiting days at the jail after she’d found out she was pregnant. He was there when they let Emma out after 6 months. He was there when her water had broken just before they were going to visit her parents. He was there in the room with her coaxing her to keep going. He was the first person besides her to hold Henry. He had been there for every single milestone and had more right that Neal did, to be apart of Henry’s life.

“I’ll go to your Parents’ Day with you.” Neal announced. “After all, I’m your father. Killian isn’t. He doesn’t have any right to go!”

“That’s a great idea! Won’t that be fun Henry?” Mary Margaret chimed in brightly.

Emma tensed more when Henry frowned. “But I want Killian to go. He said he would. He’s my friend!” His voice began to tremble, his lower lip poking out. It was time to put an end to it. Even if Killian had up and disappeared on her, he always spoke to Henry when they crossed paths.

“Of course, Killian will be going with you Henry.” Emma comforted, glaring at the other adults, David was the only one who looked chagrined. “He’s never broken a promise to you sweety. In fact, I’ll talk to him in a few days just to confirm.”

Henry calmed down, appeased by her answer. They finished eating in a tense silence, only Henry seemed unaffected. When he asked to be excused to go play in the snow, Emma agreed and made sure he was out the doors before she turned to the other three in the room. Let them say their piece first, she decided. She would let them try to explain, excuse and defend; and then she would give them a piece of her mind.

“Emma,” Mary Margaret began. “Neal deserves to have a bit of a relationship with Henry.”

Neal quickly interrupted, standing from the table. “Look you can’t keep my kid from me! I AM going to parent’s day because he’s MY son. If he doesn’t like it then he’ll have to get over it. I deserve a place in his life, so it’s time for you to get over yourself, because he obviously wants his parents to be together. So, if you would stop being so damn stubborn then maybe we could actually get somewhere. Instead I have to rely on talking to your mom about what you and Henry are up to. And if this continues Emma, I swear I’ll fight for full custody.”

“There’s no need to get mad Neal!” Mary Margaret looked surprised at his outburst. David was about to say something but Emma held up a hand to stop both of them. She leveled a look at Neal.

“Let me be very very clear Neal.” Her voice was soft and deadly. “You are Henry’s father; I’m not disputing that. But you have no rights to him, when you sent me to jail and I found out I was pregnant I didn’t want you in his life at all.”

“I’ve explained that that wasn’t my fault!” Neal began, but was stopped by Emma again.

“The police found you, they asked if you wanted anything to do with your son.”

“I thought they were lying!” He claimed, then withered under her glare.

“You signed your rights away to me, regardless of whether you though they were lying, you signed those rights away. I’ve been in contact with a lawyer,” She almost scoffed at the surprised look on everyone’s faces. “You didn’t think that I would take your threats, lightly did you? You have no legal right to him, I will let you visit him, because he does deserve to know his father. But I have a stable job, a house and a support system. No matter how much money you throw at anyone one, they will look at my record versus yours and I will win.” She paused to let all of that sink in.

“Now onto the Killian issue. He is my best friend. He is, for all intents and purposes, no matter how much any of you don’t like it, Henry’s father. No!” She said loudly when they began to protest. “He might not be Henry’s biological father, but he has been more of a dad to him than you will ever be able to be. He is non-negotiable. He will always be in Henry’s life and there is nothing any of you can say to change that.” Even if he wouldn’t be a part of her life, her heart hurt.

“I knew he was lying when he said he’d back off!” Neal spat. “How long have you been sleeping with him? Probably since before us, but listen, just cause you are willing to whore yourself out to him.”

“That’s enough!” David sprang to his feet, a murderous gleam in his eyes. “You DO NOT talk about my daughter like that. I may have gone along with this stupid plan to try and bring you and Emma back together, but not anymore. I’ve seen enough of you to know that you will never be good enough for my daughter and if you think that you can compare to Killian and what he has done for her, you’ve lost your damn mind. Now get out of my house.” Emma was sure that if she had been paying attention, she would have seen her father wind up for the punch, but she was stuck on Neal’s words. The punch sent him sprawling to the floor, not knocking him out though. When David went to throw him out Emma spoke.

“Wait!” He halted and she moved closer to Neal. “What did you mean he said he’d back off?”

Neal sneered and winced as it hurt his face. “I told him that we were going to get back together but that I needed him gone to make sure you weren’t distracted. You think I haven’t seen the yearning dopey eyed looks? Mary Margaret explained to him that I am Henry’s real dad and he deserves a real family”

“I don’t yearn.” Emma defended, her mind whirling as the last few months fell into place.

“Maybe you don’t, but he does. And he agreed to back off so Henry could have a real family.”

“Get out.” She said, and turned to check on Henry.

She helped him pack up his stuff, they had been planning on staying the night. And said she was going to let him have a sleepover with Roland. Her mom watched with wringing hands as she rushed around to gather all her stuff.

“Emma if I had known—” She began, but Emma stopped her. She asked David to put Henry in the car.

“Mary Margaret, I know you meant well, but this isn’t something I can just overlook. What you did affected not just me but my son. You knew what Neal did to me and you still pushed me towards him, no matter what I said to you. You’ve never accepted Killian, ever, but you accept the man who wrongfully sent me to jail? I can’t just get over that. I need to think.” She was aware as she watched her mothers face crumple that she hadn’t called her Mary Margaret in years, but she sure wasn’t acting like a mother at the moment. She moved to leave and was stopped by David.

“I know you need to think. I called Regina to make sure she knows Henry is coming, she’s ready for him. Here,” He handed her the keys to his jeep. “I put everything in my jeep, take Henry to Regina’s and go to the Cabin. The GPS in the jeep has the coordinates. Take your time sweetheart.” He looked at her sincerely. “I am so sorry, and when you are ready we’ll talk.” — She woke up the next morning and everything came rushing back to her. She stared up at the ceiling for a few minutes, it was time to get some more answers. After dressing she moved out to the kitchen and saw Killian sitting at the table. Hot chocolate was sitting across from him, he was staring out the window looking sad and nervous. When she glanced out the window she groaned, causing him to jump. She moved closer to the window and stared at the snow. There was too much, no way either of them was going anywhere for the next few days.

“Swan, I’ve made breakfast. Help yourself.” She went over to the stove to scoop some eggs and bacon onto her plate. When she was seated across from him, she took him in. Last night she wasn’t able to see the dark circles under his eyes, or the way his hair was sticking in different directions from him running his fingers through it. But in the light of the day, she could clearly see the lack of sleep, from more than just last night. He looked worn.

“Alright Jones. I want to know what the hell you’re doing here. I want to know why you decided to just up and ignore me for the past four months. I want to know why you broke your promise to me and just disappeared from my life. I want to—” She broke off as her throat tightened, she was not going to cry in front of him, that would just be the perfect end to a shitty few months.

“Please let me explain. I’m not looking to excuse my actions Swan, nor am I looking for you to forgive me. If you’ll just hear me out, I swear I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the time we’re stuck here.”

She nodded for him to continue, bracing herself for his explanation.

“Neal came to me in August, a few weeks after he came back. He wanted me to back off and I refused. You’re my best friend Emma, I wasn’t just going to leave you. He got angry of course, accused both of us of some untoward things. I walked away. You have to know Emma; I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t think I had too.” He paused to take a drink and calm down. “Your mom came with him the next time. They sat me down and explained that the only thing holding you back from Neal was me. Mary Margaret said you would be happy with Neal, that you wanted to forgive him and move on, to give Henry a real family. She said—” He stopped, looking away from her. “She said I wasn’t good enough for you and that you needed someone to rely on. I asked if she thought Neal was reliable considering what he did. She said yes. They talked to me three more times before I agreed to step back. I just wanted you to be happy, even if it wasn’t with me. Ruby called me and said you’d had a falling out, that ended in David punching Neal and kicking him out. I came to make sure you were okay.”

“Why?” She asked.

He blinked. “Why what?”

“Why do you want me to be happy?” She stared intensely at him, and he knew what she was really asking. So, he mentally steeled himself and answered.

“Because I love you Emma, and I want you to have everything you deserve.”

She was silent for a moment, then burst. “You asshole!” She shouted, Killian was taken aback, unsure of what to say.

“You left! You decided that because you loved me and thought that you weren’t good enough that you would just leave?! That you would just BACK OFF.” Her voice was a near screech, only broken by the obvious emotion in it. “Did you think about what I wanted? About what Henry wanted? You bastard!”

Killian was speechless, he had not expected for the conversation to go like this, he had expected her to still kick him out, though he really couldn’t leave with all the snow. And he hadn’t expected the sadness that overrode the anger in her tone.

“You tell me you love me and you say that’s why you left. You are the only one that has been through everything with me. That has stood by me, what did you think I thought of you? That you were a nice consolation prize since my stupid ex was an idiot? Do you think so little of me, that I would go back to him when I’m obviously in love with you? That I would just drop you like you aren’t the best thing to have happened to me besides Henry? That you aren’t already Henry’s father? That we haven’t been dating for who knows how long already?”

“W-What?” Killian Stuttered.

“I mean, neither of us have had a date in years, we were together every week. And I didn’t even realize we were dating until you decided to just ghost me, but we have been and you thought I’d give that up for NEAL?! NEAL?”

“I’m going to need you to back up. I may have misheard.” Killian said carefully.

“I LOVE YOU, YOU IDIOT!!” She practically screamed at him. “I’m pretty sure I’ve loved you since you threw that snowball at Jesse Martin when I made fun of my Sunday dress, when I was eight. I love you, and I’ve been afraid to say it, but now that I know why you left. I just—” Finally the tears fell.

Killian was up and around the table in record time. He scooped her up and settled them down on the couch, holding her close. While she cried, he whispered comforts into her ear. He was a bloody idiot. The conversation he’d had with his brother a week ago came to mind. Liam had berated him for being a moron when I came to ignoring Emma, telling him that she missed him and wouldn’t care that her mother didn’t approve.

“Do you really want her back with that wanker?” Liam had demanded.

It had stuck with him and gave him the resolve to talk to her, after Christmas, because he was to much of a coward to deal with rejection before it. Now he saw what a bloody asshole he had been. And now that he knew she felt the same, well he’d be damned if he made the same mistake again. When she had calmed down and wiped away her tears, she ran to the bathroom to compose herself, he let her; when she came back, she looked better, but exhausted.

“I’ve been an idiot.” He confessed, causing her to snort in agreement. “Emma, I love you and Henry so much, I thought if I backed off that you would be happy. Liam made me realize last week that I was lost without you two. I need you more than I can explain. I am so deeply sorry for how much I’ve hurt you. If you don’t forgive me, I’ll understand, but I need you to know that not a day went by that I didn’t think of you.” When he was finished, he looked at her anxiously.

“How do I know it won’t happen again?” Emma looked back with the same anxiety as he felt.

“Have you ever known me to make the same mistake twice?” He asked, her small smile gave him a sliver of hope. “I can’t promise I won’t mess up. You know that more than anyone, we’ve fought over the years, both said stupid things, but I will never let you go if you say you’re mine. You are the most precious treasure I’ve ever come into contact with. I swear to you that you and Henry are my life. I love you more every day I spend with you, and missed you more every day I didn’t.”

Emma breathed deep. “Then I forgive you Killian Jones. And expect you to do some pretty hard groveling.”

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her like he’d dreamed. It was everything and more, like the world stood still for that one perfect moment, to let them bask in the rightness of it. His heart seemed to beat in time with hers. No matter what came, his heart now belonged to her. Emma felt the same, as his soft lips moved against hers, she could see their future. She could see their eventually wedding, their home, their second child (because of course Henry was already his in every way that counted.), growing old with him. It all fell into place with that kiss.

He moved back to stare at her, the love in his eyes making the blue shine. “I’ll grovel every damn day for the rest of our lives. And now that we’re together, I have so many thoughts on where to begin.” HE wiggled his brows and she laughed, pulling him closer to kiss him.

“Well, we are stuck here for a few more days yet. Let’s see what you’ve got sailor.” She let out a squeak when he swung her into his arms.

“That’s lieutenant to you Swan.” He murmured, his voice deepening as he made his way to the master bedroom. Thinking of how this would be the best Christmas of his life.

“Remind me to thank Ruby when we get back to town.” Her voice breathless with anticipation. Merry Christmas indeed.

— Three years later

Emma curled on the cabin couch with her husband, watching ten-year-old Henry show his little one-year-old sister Hope all the ornaments on the tree. She could here her parents in the kitchen, laughing and preparing dinner. Killian kissed her forehead and leaned down to kiss her stomach.

“Only a two more months little one,” He murmured. “You ready for another Mrs. Jones?”

“Absolutely Mr. Jones.” She responded.

And in the firelight, she reflected on her life, how perfect everything was. She had everything thing that mattered in life.

#Captain Swan #cssecretsanta2k19 #CS fic #gift fic

30 notes · View notes