#prowl gives no fucks about vortex

[lightandspark]

Relationships Headcanon in the Ark & Nemesis

- Ratchet, Velocity, First Aid, and Minerva bitch about everybody after a long day. They have a group chat called Tired Medics

-Bumblebee, Rodimus, and Windblade act like siblings.

- Jazz and Blaster are best friends and they have a very strong friendship, very supportive of each other’s relationships with Prowl and Soundwave respectively… despite sometimes worrying about each other’s happiness.

- Bumblebee, Jazz, Blaster, Blurr, and Mirage are also hang out a lot as their jobs connect together and they are often giggling together.

- Rodimus, Springer, Blurr, and Arcee are conjoined together and have their own little friend group.

- Perceptor, Nautica, Brainstorm, Wheeljack, Greenlight, Lancer, and Skyfire are a chaotic bunch and you should run if they are in the lab together… especially when it’s Brainstorm and Wheeljack.

- Ratchet and Wheeljack are amiable exes who raised Dino bots together.

- Blaster, Windblade, Bumblebee, Sandstorm, Blurr, Cosmos, and Lightbright sigh over the fact that the love of their lives are the enemies… Soundwave, Starscream, Blitzwing, Octane, Swindle, Blast Off, and Sparkstalker think of them often.

- Same group of cons are glaring daggers at Breakdown and Knockout whenever the couple are canoodling.

- Cyclonus and Thundercracker bailed and are living their life with Tailgate and Marissa. Misfire and The Scavengers bailed too and Misfire canoodles with Swerve.

-The triple changers from both sides go drinking together.

- Don’t let Tracks, Powerglide, Blurr, Sunstreaker, Slingshot, and Mirage work together at Once… nothing can be achieved.

- Drift and Ratchet, Prowl and Jazz, Soundwave and Blaster, Hound and Mirage, Breakdown and Knockout, BW Silverbolt and Blackarachnia, Tracks and Raoul, Starscream and Windblade, Blitzwing and Bumblebee, Swindle and Blurr, Arcee and Greenlight, Dinobot and Optimus Primal, AND SHOCKINGLY Ultra Magnus and Rodimus are all the “PLEASE GET A ROOM” Couple.

- “Shameless but Cute” couples are Blast Off and Cosmos, Sparkstalker and Lightbright, Dust Up and Jumpstream, Powerglide and Astoria, Cyclonus and Tailgate, Road Rage and Náutica, Roadhandler and Cecelia, Skids and Charlene, Seaspray and Alana, Crankcase and Cons4Eva, Misfire and Swerve, Thundercracker and Marissa, Afterburner and Lightspeed, Octane and Sandstorm, and Tigatron and Airazor.

- First Aid has feelings for Springer and gets all flustered when he is around while Firestar stumbles and crushes hard on Velocity. Slingshot yearns for Silverbolt while there is a love triangle between Red Alert, Inferno, and Smokescreen as the two long for Inferno but Inferno loves Red Alert.

- Couples that are mostly “on the downlow and fuck like rabbits behind close doors” are BW Megatron and BW Inferno, Megaempress and Flowspade, Loudpedal and Exhaust, Perceptor and Brainstorm (but it seems mostly one sided… or is it?)

- Need “love advice”? Ask the sexiest not there is… KUP.

-Seaspray, Beachcomber, Hound, and Skids talk nature together and they with Alana and Charlene go on nature expeditions. Mirage would come but he doesn’t like getting dirty.

- Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, and Bluestreak are a chaotic bunch and are up to any antics.

- Swindle and Smokescreen drunkly gambled together… once… no one knew what happened that night afterward.

- Onslaught is just tired, Vortex and Brawl share a brain cell but Blast Off holds it in tight custody.

- Grimlock enjoys spending time with the Scavengers and could be seen napping together.

- Prowl and Jazz spar a lot together. Jazz being the better fighter as Prowl can’t help but feel… drawn to it. His conjunx finds it adorable.

-Ratchet and Drift are conjunx and they practically had a los Vegas wedding, Ratchet finds it amusing and cute that Drift laments on giving him the ‘proper’ wedding,

- Rewind has bad taste in men.

- Mirage and Sunstreaker don’t like each other.

- Mirage likes to get dirty… with Hound. Poor Cliffjumper walks in on them a lot.

- Ratchet does the same with Rodimus and Ultra Magnus, Blaster with Jazz and Prowl, and Wheeljack with Ratchet and Drift. The Stunticons with Knocoout and Breakdown. Nautica HEARD Perceptor and Brainstorm but that’s it.

- Bumblebee and Windblade once asks Optimus about dating the enemy (regarding about Blitzwing and Starscream) and Optimus sighs thinks of Megatron.

- Ironhide would fuck Optimus in a heart beat. Chromia would gladly sleep with Elita One.

- Thunderclash has a crush on Rodimus but it’s one sided… my poor man.

- Rodimus thinks it’s a bit funny, adorable, and amusing Springer’s sheer obliviousness but tells him to keep his eyes out for potential lovers… you’d be surprise who you might fall in love. *nudges First Aid*.

-Fort Max and Cerebros comfort Red Alert and try to figure put how to help him woo Inferno.

- Mirage has an amusing relationship with Sideswipe… a good one though.

- Arcee and Lancer don’t get along. Greenlight is sighing heavily in the back as her conjunx and ex glare daggers at each other.

- Hardhead, Brainstorm, and Highbrow are estranged and talk trash about each other behind each other’s backs.

- Tracks, Road Rage, Loud Pedal, and Needlenose talk trash about each other too while Raoul and Nautica stare nervously at Exhaust and Horri Bull as they glance suspiciously at each other.

- Raoul, Astoria, Marissa, Cecelia, and Charlene are all beside Alana and Cons4Eva and sighing heavily at the chaos.

[anon-e-miss]

The drone spark

- Jazz. Jazz. Jazz. He just saved the bitties! He’s anything but a drone spark!

Though the Twins escape the centre with impunity, they did not escape their school classroom so easily. Jazz felt confident enough that they were going to be where they were supposed to be and thus he felt safe enough to drop in on Prowl. It was strange thinking of how comfortable his creations were with Prowl and how he had never noticed this before. He should have noticed, being perceptive was a rather important trait in his business but Jazz realized he had long had blinders on where so far as Prowl was concerned. His creations had not possessed the same blinders and Prowl had some how become one of their favourite mechanisms. How and why? Jazz had to wonder. How much time had they actually spent in his office with him, not just lying in wait?

It felt wrong to come empty-handed, Primus only knew why Jazz cared, he doubted Prowl would. Regardless the irrationality of it, Jazz picked up a box of the rust sticks Prowl always seemed to have around. Crystals would wait, Jazz shook his helm. Someone had told the Twins that giving mechanisms crystals when they were in the medicentre was traditional and they wanted to bring some to Prowl. They would be upset with him if he did not let them pick out the crystals, so it would have to wait. He had no idea if Prowl even liked crystals but the Twins were fixated on the idea and Jazz was well schooled in picking his battles.

"Good-cycle, Prowl," Jazz greeted as he strolled into Prowl's room.

The SIC looked up from the datapad he was holding and set it down on his lap. In a mega-cycle, nothing had changed. Prowl still looked rough, yet unflinching, mesh covered almost every centimetre of exposed plating. Still, his optics were clear and bright. Ratchet had found the right balance with his pain blockers, clearly. Jazz knew Prowl usually refused them, something about them addling his process. He did not look addled right now.

"Good-cycle, Jazz," Prowl replied.

"I brought ya rust sticks," Jazz said, showing Prowl the box. "Though, Optimus probably already did."

"He did not, actually," Prowl replied. He tapped the datapad on his lap with long digits that had been so cruelly twisted when Prowl had found him at the Vault. "He brought me drivel."

"'N y're bored outta yer processor so y're actually readin' it," Jazz guessed and Prowl ever so slightly canted his helm. His optics were calculating, they always were but for some reason Jazz was more aware of it.

"To put it mildly," Prowl replied. Jazz opened the box of rust sticks and gave them to Prowl. "Thank you."

Prowl was always polite. Even when he ripped into a mechanism he always did so with perfect language and empirical data to back it up. He might have been one of the pettiest mechs Jazz had ever met, he never failed to back it up with facts. That was probably one of those things about the mech that drove Bots craziest, Prowl was hard to call out when he made such a point of being right. Jazz and he had clashed on the manners front on more than one occasion, superficiality served no purpose to Jazz. He liked things straight forward.

"You have something to ask," Prowl guessed. "You are here to debrief me?"

"Pretty sure if OP wants ya debriefed, he'll do it himself," Jazz said. "If ya got somethin' ya wanna say, I'll hear it."

"There really is not anything," Prowl said. "I am pleased the Twins are intact. I am sorry they heard what they heard."

"They're doin' better after seein' ya in one piece," Jazz replied. "Sunny was more 'n half sure he'd killed ya... I don't know how ya didn't give'm the code after what he did to ya."

"I deleted and the scrubbed the code," Prowl explained. "Even if he had managed to hack the firewalls surrounding my battle computer, he would have found nothing. He is not an adept hacker. He has no patience. As it was, Vortex was quickly distracted from trying to get the code. He became more interested in garnering reactions from me."

"He wanted ya to beg," Jazz said. "Sideswipe said that. Ya didn't."

"It gave him something to work for," Prowl replied. "Something I could easily refuse him."

"Easily, Prowl?" Jazz asked.

"Nothing he did was particularly startling," Prowl said. "Vortex's methods were predictable."

Predictable. Jazz had heard Vortex described in a number of ways but particular had never been one of them. He had seen what Vortex had done to Prowl and it had been the worst of Vortex’s work that Jazz had seen where the victim had lived. It had been up there with the worst Vortex had done in general but Prowl was... stoic seemed like the wrong glyph. It did not feel like Prowl was trying to keep his shock and horror and fear under wraps, it really felt like Prowl just felt nothing and that just felt... wrong. Why was it wrong? Everyone, Jazz included, referred to Prowl as a drone spark. He never flinched at the casualties. He never served as a shoulder to lean on when his team lost one of their own. Prowl was unflinching like a girder. Why did Prowl carrying on as normal feel so wrong now?

“What is Ostaros?” Jazz asked. Prowl’s optics flickered as his intakes suddenly caught. Jazz flinched because if Ratchet turned up right now, he was a dead mech. He reached for Prowl’s servo and covered it. “Ventilate, mech.”

“Ostaros,” Prowl wheezed.

“Vortex said he’d tell ya where Tarantulas has it,” Jazz said. “Ya told ‘m he was full o’ slag.”

“He was,” Prowl said. “He has no idea where Tarantulas is.”

“Ya real sure?” Jazz asked.

“If Vortex knew where Tarantulas was, Tarantulas would be in a cage in Darkmount,” Prowl replied.

“I seen the list,” Jazz agreed. Vortex had almost certainly been blowing smoke out of his afthole and Prowl had been too Prowl to fall for it. “Tarantulas is up at the top. Is Megatron after Ostaros too?”

“I doubt it,” Prowl replied, sounding uncertain, at least by his standards. Jazz’s plating almost stood up on end. “Ostaros is nothing to Megatron.”

“If he did get his servos on it, could Megs use it against ya?” Jazz asked. Prowl jerked his helm and stared at him. He shuddered and Jazz could hear his fans revving. They were so loud Jazz barely heard his answer.

“Yes.”

“What’s Ostaros?” Jazz asked.

“My bitlet.”

[bitegore]

Unwritten/published fics: 16, 20!

16. Is there any written scene that you think about a lot?

not a day goes by that i don't think about Vortex and Bait playing fuck-you-now-i-get-to-fuck-you capture kink and sadomasochism tag. I've written like some of that and it never stops doing it for me, they're awful. There's one scene where Vortex gets a call from Onslaught going "dude where the fuck are you, get back to base we have a job!" while Bait is halfway through removing all his rotors and fingers and Vortex has to play it cool on the phone so Onslaught won't ban him from getting laid in the future. and i think about it literally daily

There are others like that, too- I have a Stranger Things fic sitting around somewhere where I sicced an OC on Billy because i love him and want his life to suck forever and ever, and there's one scene where he's like standing there watching his dad throw out all his belongings while he himself is like pretty sure he's got brain damage or something but Neil is not listening when he says he keeps having blackouts because they all seem like very conveniently-timed blackouts to him, and he's trying not to cry because that won't win him any points, and I just want to shovel it directly into my mouth and eat it. Characters going through Trials and Tribulations my beloved. And I think there are others also but I can't think of anything off the top of my head- the rest are all in finished and/or unfinished-but-published things.

20. Give a vague description of something that will happen without revealing too much

Transmissions: ah damn, saved over the wrong files: the psychological horror variant

Oops I Keyed an Autobot: Y/N gets to tell Sunstreaker the bad news: if he parks outside their house while looking like that people are going to keep trying to steal his tires and tailgate. Try being less pretty or take it up with Prowl, we don't want him here either.

Questions can be found here :D

[astro-chan]

WFC Trilogy - Character Reviews

(That no one asked for)

Optimus Prime

Pretends to listen to everyone's advice

jUsT hAvE fAiTh

Okay let's look for the allspark because I said so

*Yeets it off Cybertron an hour later*

Frustrates everyone

Including his own team

Simp

Elita

Exasperated mom

Lowkey tired of OP's shit

Give the gal a break

Bad bitch

Should be leader tbh

Bumblebee

3 edgy 5 me

Sassmaster

He knows a guy

'iTs NoT a PhAsE mOm'

The ugly one

Jetfire

Probably played basketball in HS

Told his boss to go suck it

Joined the other team as an excuse to murder his former colleages

Chaotic good

Ultra Magnus

Wants peace

(Fucking dies and has his body used as a weapon of war)

His decapitated head makes a nice ornamental table piece

Ratchet

Tired of everyone's shit

Has a decepticon bf

Do NOT upset his patients

Beautiful

(((WHERE IS HE)))

Wheeljack

'Pain in my A S S'

Wheeljack N O

What does he know about Perceptor's tight receptor?

D...did he just give Megatron a boob job?

Mirage

Now you see me now you don't

Wants to fight Ratchet's decepticon bf

ADHD

Prowl

Good cop

Not ACAB???

Almost gets his shit wrecked by fucking wind

Cog

Haha big gun go pew

Somehow survives having a big ass hole blown in his torso

Gets sucked out of a ship into the cold depths of space

Gets stabbed in the tit

Are you okay, my little cogchamp?

Arcee

Shows up outta nowhere as an accomplice in robbery

Lowkey wishes she stayed home

Her and bee have chaotic sibling vibes

Chromia

Moonracer but blue

Does not get dismembered

Will snipe your ass

Moonracer

Chromia but mint

Gets dismembered

Can't snipe your ass because she's dead

Red Alert

Didn't graduate med school for this shit

Somehow survives falling to his death

He's always alert....hehe....get it?....Cuz his name's Red Alert...and he's always...heh...alert

Impactor

Angery gay

Will fight you

Won't actually fight you because Ratchet would disapprove

Deserved better

Ironhide

Red

Thank you for flying ark airlines this is your captain speaking

Probably has no idea wtf is happening most of the time

Sideswipe

Hood tiddies

*points at butterfly* is this screentime?

Sideswipe character

Hound

Wait this guy was in the show???

Huh

Idk he did a thing?

He's green I guess

Alpha Trion

Proud single dad of three kids

Can't control his three kids

Get's murdered by one of his three kids

(That kid then went on to start a planetary war against the other two kids)

Bumblebee's sleep paralysis demon

Megatron

L I P S

Overlord is that u?

Handsome squidward vibes

Has giant self-portraits of him murdering autobots hung up around his crib

Angry at OP because he's shit at flirting with OP

Save the cybertronians...by mass murdering the cybertronians

Gets stabbed in the tit

Starscream

Puritan scum

Gets promoted and instantly climaxes

*breathes excitedly*

*pleased gasp*

Jetfire's bitch

Thundercracker

Starscreams #1 fanboy

Is shit at searching for Autobots

Skywarp

Starscreams #2 fanboy

Dies?!?!

RIP I guess

Soundwave

That guy on the radio

Shares a braincell with Shockwave

Lowkey wholesome

C00l d00d

Shockwave

Questionable morals

Even more questionable voice

Yeah. Science, bitch!

Bastard

Barricade

ACAB ACAB ACAB ACAB ACAB

GOLD FACE

Get's screamed at a lot

Skytread

Secretly doesn't condone Megatron's shit

Wants to be punched in the face

Does not want to be shot in the face

Spinister

Generic bad guy #1

Gets stabbed in the tit

Vortex is that u

Hotlink

Generic bad guy #2

Does not get stabbed in the tit

Skywarp is that u

Laserbeak

Birb

Sees all

Caw

Ravage

A good boy

STOP THROWING HIM AROUND

This is animal abuse I'm calling PETA

Soundblaster

Radical

He's gonna make you an offer you can't refuse

Soundwave's cooler cousin

Deeseus

ORDER IN THE COURT

Cut off 4 of it's 5 faces so it could get it's shit together

Still does not have it's shit together

Doubledealer

Lockdown WHOMS'T

Bitch better have my money

Gets posessed by his client

Skylinx

#deep

(How does he see???)

Wisdom dog 2.0

Ahaha that was the old me

Dude's just vibing in space

Scorponok

YOU PICKED THE WRONG HOUSE FOOL

Impressive vocabulary

Will insult you eloquently

(((Fr he's been through so much trauma; he lost his family, became the last of his kind, is probably suffering from PTSD and now two groups of strangers invade his home and start shooting at him. Homeboy has every right to be pissed off)))

Omega Supreme

Nuh uh I ain't getting involved

*gets involved 10 mins later*

Aight what did I miss?

Galvatron

The embodiment of the 'Who are you? / I'm you...but stronger' meme

Gets lit the fuck up

Nemesis Prime

*Glare*

Of course he only gets 2 seconds of screentime

[imagining-supernatural]

Dress

Summary: Dean and the reader have a conversation about how women buy dresses with the intention of someone taking it off of them just before she leaves for a date. (see warnings for the rest of it)

Word Count: 3474

Warnings: Partial nudity, slightly dom!Dean, foreplay, implied smut, NSFW

A/N: So, I was listening to this album on repeat yesterday while doing a puzzle and venting to my imaginary Dean and thus this idea was born.

Based off Dress by Taylor Swift

Version en Español: Vestido

“Do girls really do that?” I blurted out.

Y/N spared me a brief glance before turning back to the puzzle she was focused on. “Do what?”

“Buy a dress just so the guy they want will take it off them?” I wasn’t surprised she was tuning out the new Taylor Swift album that had been on repeat all damn day. I would never tell anyone, but it was growing on me and it was entirely Y/N’s fault. “I thought chicks bought clothes they liked and shit.”

She looked up at me for a longer moment with an incredulous expression. “Of course we do, Dean. Do you really think that all those women you see at bars like wearing six-inch heels or dresses that constantly need to be readjusted? Hell no. Women are on the prowl for sex just as much as men are.”

Y/N pushed her glasses back up on her nose and glanced at the clock for the fourth time in the last ten minutes. This was one of our rare nights off from hunting. Why was she so preoccupied with the time? “Have you ever done that?”

“Not for a specific guy, but I’ve bought a few dresses like that for the nights I wanna get laid without having to put in the effort to find a guy.” She held up a puzzle piece to the picture on the box and examined it closely, trying to figure out exactly where it went. The first time I’d watched her do a puzzle, I thought it was the weirdest way to do a puzzle. Wasn’t it easier to just get all the pieces of the same color and fit those together rather than placing the pieces haphazardly in the border and going from there?

Of course, I’d never really thought about puzzles before Y/N came to live with us. There was a lot I hadn’t thought about before she came to live with us.

“Actually,” she said, tilting her head slightly and pursing her lips and she reconsidered her answer. “There is one guy I had in mind when I went shopping, but I never got the chance to use the dress on him.”

“Why not?”

“He’s never been interested in me like that,” she shrugged nonchalantly. I didn’t understand how she could just brush off everything so easily. The only thing that ever fazed her was when we couldn’t save civilians on a hunt. Even then, she was able to recover more quickly than Sam or me.

“What an idiot,” I muttered, watching as she got pulled back into the puzzle vortex. Any guy would be such a lucky bastard to get Y/N’s attention. Even in a ratty t-shirt, baggy sweats I’m sure she stole from me at some point, her hair in a low pony-tail, big glasses, and no makeup, she was still breathtaking.

And I’ve seen her when she did her makeup and hair and shit and she went from her usual adorable, nerdy, funny self to a sexy as hell woman who commanded attention and respect. There wasn’t a single look that Y/N couldn’t pull off.

Then she glanced at the clock again and my curiosity got the better of me. “What’s so interesting about that clock?”

“I have to leave for a date in about ten minutes.”

A date? “Like, an actual date?”

She nodded, forehead scrunching as she tried to figure out where to place the puzzle piece she’d just picked up. “Well, kinda. Mariah’s had a rough week, so we’re going on a double date with the guy she likes and his douchey roommate. I’m going along to make her look good and make sure she has a good time.”

“Make her look good? Shouldn’t you be, like, I don’t know, helping her get ready then?”

“Not that kind of helping her look good.” Her attention was still completely on the puzzle as she answered me. “I mean she’s spent at least an hour getting ready and is gonna look super hot, and I’ll be the friend who isn’t as pretty tonight so she gets all of the attention. I’m the confidence booster tonight.”

I scoffed and closed my laptop, setting it aside. I hadn’t been doing anything on it for the last hour, and it was about time I gave up the pretense. “You really think that’ll work?”

Please. Even in her old shirt and sweats, she was still every straight guy’s fantasy. There was no way anyone could upstage her.

“It always does.”

“Makeup doesn’t make that much of a difference, sweetheart. Especially when you look as good as you do naturally.”

She rolled her eyes at the puzzle, brushing off my compliment as usual. “It’s not just makeup, Dean. It’s the hair and the outfit and the ego boost that give you. Guys can sense when a girl has put effort into her appearance.”

“I’m a guy and—”

“I’m just gonna stop you right there, Dean. You are a guy, which is why I know that you won’t get this. I’ve watched you fall prey to this tactic so many times since I met you.” She finally set aside the puzzle box with the remaining pieces and stood up, coming to sit next to me on the bed. “It’s all an illusion, and in the low lights of a bar, dudes can’t even tell they’re being manipulated.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Next time you’re out at a bar and you see your conquest of the night, take a step back and look at her friends, if she has any with her. I can almost guarantee you that the woman you set your sights on is the one who spent more time on her appearance for the night. I’ve seen you do it so many times.”

I think I was offended. Besides, lately the only woman who had been catching my attention at bars was Y/N no matter how long she spent getting ready. “You’re calling me shallow?”

“I’m calling you susceptible to subtle manipulations.” She reached over and patted my cheek consolingly before standing up. “Don’t worry, it’s not a bad thing. Now close your eyes. I have to change.”

It never mattered how many times we’d seen each other nearly naked as we stitched each other up. Y/N was still more modest than any hunter I’d ever met. Closing my eyes, I leaned my head back against the headboard and got lost in my thoughts.

It bugged me that she was going on a date tonight. Our first night off in nearly a month and she was going to spend it with a douchey guy instead of spending a night in with me like usual. She normally didn’t go on dates anyway. She was more introverted than, well, any hunter I’d ever met. Y/N was pretty much the opposite of what I’d thought of hunters. Quiet and reserved. But still a damn fine hunter.

Oh, don’t worry. I’ve already owned up to my feelings for her. Sam called me out a few weeks ago and, since then, I haven’t been able to get it out of my head. But I haven’t told her. So, really, I shouldn’t have any real reason to be jealous that she was going out with someone else. I didn’t have any claim on her.

That didn’t stop me from wanting to wring the guy’s neck, though.

“Okay, you’re good to open.”

Even in jeans and a dark purple, fitted t-shirt, she still short-circuited my brain. Luckily, she was too focused on choosing a necklace to notice my reaction. And she really thought that anyone else would upstage her tonight?

“Will you be back tonight?”

“Yeah. I’m not going to go home with whatever the fuck his name is.” She finally settled on a necklace and began a search for her phone and purse.

“Sweetheart, you’ll have your pick of any guy in that bar.” Why the hell was I encouraging this? I wanted her in my bed.

Besides the pink tinge on her cheeks, she didn’t acknowledge the compliment. “I’m looking forward to sleeping in in my own bed in the morning. I’m not going home with anyone tonight. If Mariah hadn’t had such a bad week, I wouldn’t have even agreed to this stupid date in the first place.”

“All people-ed out?”

Being around other people was exhausting to Y/N. I didn’t understand it, but I was glad that I seemed to be an exception to that rule. She didn’t seem to tire of spending time with Sam and me.

“Yeah. Keep your phone close. I might need you to call me with a fake emergency.”

*****

It was barely ten thirty when I heard Y/N come home. Sounds like her date had been even worse than she was expecting if she was home before midnight. Whenever she went out with Mariah, she was usually gone until at least two in the morning. Then, of course, she would need a few days to recover from all of the socializing.

Staying in my bed rather than going to talk to her took all of my self-control. If she wanted to talk about it, she would come find me. A lot of the time, after a night where she was around people for too long, she just needed a few hours alone.

I could hear her in her room next to mine for a few minutes before everything went silent. She was probably watching Netflix with her headphones on.

You’ll see her in the morning, I tried telling myself, but still couldn’t make myself relax.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard her soft knock on my door. “Yeah?”

Slowly, she opened the door and popped her head in. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah, of course.” I started sitting up, but she shook her head and slipped in next to me, using a hand on my chest to keep me laying down as she set her glasses on the bedside table. I couldn’t breathe as she curled up next to me, resting her head on my shoulder. Sometimes we had to share a bed on a hunt, but I was always too exhausted and ended up falling asleep almost instantly.

Never before had Y/N come in to share my bed in the bunker. And never had I been next to her when I was only in my boxers. This seemed like a recipe for disaster.

“Date didn’t go well, I take it?” I needed to figure out why she was in here before I started overthinking everything.

“No,” she mumbled. “He was a giant douche and way too handsy.”

“Handsy?” Pushing up on my elbow, I looked over her in concern. “Did he do—”

“Dean, it’s okay.” She pushed me back down and resettled herself against me. “I can handle myself. I didn’t let him cross too many lines. But I just need someone who isn’t gross and slimy to hold me for a few minutes and make me forget where his hands tried to go.”

If Y/N wasn’t cuddled up in my side, I probably would have peeled out of the garage in Baby and tracked down the creep she’d gone on the date with to give him a piece of my mind with my fists.

“You sure you’re okay? I can go teach him a lesson if you want.”

Her soft, carefree laugh calmed some of my nerves. “Maybe tomorrow. I promise I’m good, though. You know I’m not the kind of girl who lets anyone walk all over me.”

“I know, sweetheart.” I finally managed to relax and push her creepy date from my mind, choosing instead to focus on her warm body next to mine. “That’s one of the things I love most about you.”

Shit.

Besides a slight hitch in her breathing, she didn’t respond to my slip. It just hung in the air above us and I hoped to God that she interpreted it as a friendly kind of love. She might be good at brushing things off, but I wasn’t sure if even she would be able to brush off any kind of declaration of love like that.

“Hey, Dean?” she whispered a few minutes later. I made a noise of acknowledgement and she continued. “Remember earlier tonight when we were talking about dresses?”

“Yeah.”

“And I told you that I bought a dress for a specific guy who didn’t like me like that and you called him an idiot?”

“You heard that?” I thought she’d been sucked back into her puzzle zone.

Her head moved against my shoulder in what I assumed to be a nod. “Did you mean it? That he’s an idiot to turn me down?”

I shifted slightly to be able to look down at her, but still have my arms securely around her. Her hair was spread across my shoulder, and there was a hole in the old shirt she’d thrown on after her date. She was perfect. “Yeah. I meant it.”

Her eyes held mine for half a minute before she looked away briefly and drew in a quick breath. “It was you.”

“What?” I couldn’t have heard her right.

“I had you in mind when I picked out the dress, Dean.” Her eyes darted up to mine for a second. “I don’t want to make things weird between us, but I just—”

“Go put it on.” Shit, was I dreaming?

“What?” Now it was her turn to be taken aback.

Propping myself up on my elbow, I reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Go put on the dress. We were talking about how girls buy dresses so someone else can take it off of them. I can’t take the dress off of you if you aren’t wearing it, sweetheart.”

“Are you—are you sure?”

“How long have you had the dress?”

Apparently she hadn’t imagined the conversation going this direction, because she was scrambling to keep up. I gave her all the time she needed to wrap her head around this change, but I didn’t move back to give her the space. If she was saying what I thought she was, I was going to grab ahold of this chance and not let go.

“Uh, two months.”

She’d wanted me for at least two months. “Shit, sweetheart. I’ve been trying to keep my hands to myself for weeks. Go put on that dress.”

Her eyes never moved from mine as she finished thinking through the situation. A small, hesitant smile played around the corners of her lips. “Okay. I’ll be right back.”

I watched her leave, staring at the door as she closed it behind her. Fuck, was this really happening? I sat on the edge of my bed, hoping and praying that I wasn't dreaming. Even if she wasn't coming back in the dress, I knew for sure that she had still come into my room for comfort after her shitty date. I knew for sure that she had chosen me over Sammy to hold her and make her forget about her slimy dates hands all over her.

That had to mean something.

A few minutes later, she knocked lightly on my door. My feet took me over to open it in a daze. She quickly slipped in and closed the door behind her as I just stared.

She was wearing a tight red dress that had one of those low necklines that ended close to her waist, leaving very little to the imagination.

"There are, uh, I bought heels to go with it. But since we're not actually going out, I figured..."

"Next time," I finally found my low, scratchy voice. Next time she would be in nothing but those heels. "Fuck, Y/N. You're—Jesus Christ." How could I possibly string together enough words to tell her just how fucking delicious she looked?

"Pretty sure I'm not Jesus Christ," she joked, glancing away and running her hand through her hair.

Definitely not, with all of the sinful things my head was coming up with.

"You're so fucking gorgeous." My legs finally remembered how to move and I slowly prowled over to her. The dress was soft under my hands as my fingers travelled from her shoulders to her hips. A low sigh escaped her lips at my touch and went directly to my dick. Shit, if that little sound had that much effect on me, I couldn't wait to hear her moaning and screaming my name.

"You really bought this dress for me?"

Her eyes snapped to mine and softened with a hesitant smile. "All for you, Dean."

Self-control: gone in an instant. My hands on her hips pulled her into my body and I finally kissed her like I'd been wanting to for weeks. She stretched up on her toes and one hand reached around to tug on my hair. Her touch made my entire body burn up and I moaned, pressing her back into the door.

"Fuck, Dean," she said, already out of breath. Her other hand wrapped around my wrist and dragged my hand up her stomach to stop on her hot skin between her breasts. "Dean, I need you to touch me. Please. I need to—I need to feel you."

Hearing her beg flipped a switch in me. This was really happening. We were really going to sleep together. She really wanted me.

"Is that so, sweetheart?" My sweet, quiet, independent Y/N was begging me to touch her. To make her feel good. She bought a sexy dress with the fantasy of me taking it off of her. And here she was, right in front of me.

Rather than sliding my fingers under her dress, as she obviously wanted me to, I began a leisurely journey up to her throat. She mewled in opposition and tried pulling my hand back down, but I used my other hand to pull her fingers off my wrist and hold her hand against the wall above her head.

"Dean," she complained quietly, no real objection behind it.

I slid my thigh between her legs to give her a slight release and smiled darkly down at her. "Sweetheart, I'm gonna make you feel so good. Gonna make you forget all about your slimy date tonight." She ground down on my thigh and I had to bit my lip to hold back a groan as her hand on the back of my neck tightened its hold. "Gonna give you everything you need. But you gotta trust me."

Her moan when my fingers landed on her throat nearly undid me. Jesus, the things this woman did to me. I squeezed the sides of her throat gently, testing her limits. Just the sight of my fingers wrapped around her throat, inches from her parted lips was enough to put my self-control on the edge of a cliff. And judging by the way she ground onto my thigh, soaking through my boxers, she was just as insanely turned on as I was.

"I do, Dean. I trust you."

Shit. Hearing her say that made me surge forward and capture her lips in a searing kiss. I'd never heard anything more beautiful in my life.

"You said you bought this dress so I could take it off of you?" I growled in her ear once I got myself under control again. The hand that was at her throat moved under the fabric on her shoulder, slowly starting to slide it off.

"Yes, Dean."

Was I going to have to fight the urge to kiss her every damn time she said my name tonight?

The fabric slid off her shoulder and she removed the hand on the back of my neck to slide her arm completely free of the fabric until it hung around her waist, one half of her body completely bare to me. My eyes travelled hungrily over her shoulder and collar bone down to her perfect breast. I couldn't wait to get my mouth on that later, but I had a game plan to follow, and it involved making her squirm and beg first. I was going to take my time.

My breath caught in my throat when, instead of placing her hand back on my neck, she raised her arm above her head, laying her wrist on the wall above her head, right next to where my hand was holding her other one. She was completely submitting to me. Her desire-filled eyes drilled into mine and she repeated her words from earlier. "All for you, Dean."

This time, though, she wasn't talking about the dress.

"Shit, Y/N," I groaned, gathering her other wrist in my hand as well. "I'm all yours too."

"Show me," she lifted her chin in a challenge.

Challenge accepted.

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[songbirdstew]

Start day. Drop Sid at school. Visit library to make copies. Library is not open yet. Drive to only St Vinnie’s that is open before 10, bc C needs pants. Score cat tower for $30. Wonder if kid and cat tower will fit in backseat simultaneously. 

Visit bank for bankery needs. Return to library, make necessary copies. Enter the Fred Meyer Vortex. Obtain printer paper (April/May is a busy time for paperwork) and deli lunches. Proffer bitchy smile to dude who makes impatient, condescending remark while I’m getting a donut for Sid. Enter wrong code in self-checkout robot, also need to show ID to a human before robot will proceed, four humans pass us by without even making eye contact. Say fuck this, abandon self-checkout mid transaction, join human express checkout instead.

Meet Sid for lunch in his school cafeteria for Friends and Family Day. Classmates are impressed with his donut, and tickled by my coffee that looks like milk. Coffee is fucking delicious. Watch Sid at recess. When he isn’t running, he is sitting quietly with his friend who is a girl. Feel amused at how he always attracts these wild, strong-willed girls, and how he always finds a quiet space with them.

Recess ends, Sid goes back to class, and we have 40 minutes to kill before the school day ends. It is an early release day, and our drive home is 20 minutes each way. Drive to closest St Vinnie’s, buy nothing this time.

Go back to school. The Scholastic Book Fair is on. Sid gets two books, I get The Princess and the Pony for me. The line to check out takes 20 minutes. There is a theme of time elapse and checkout problems today.

Kid and cat tower DO fit in backseat simultaneously. Kid finds this hysterical. C had promised a park visit today, so we drive to Island Park. Ducks are adorable, geese are suspect, kid has ball.

Finally home, discover idiot brother’s idiot dogs have gotten into my work bag and scattered items across the floor, have gotten onto the dining table and knocked things over, and have pulled a storage container with various bottles of sprinkles out of the pantry, managing to break one of the glass bottles inside. Dogs are being scolded and ushered outside when idiot brother comes home, who sighs, but does actually nothing, except to ask me, “Well, WHERE in the pantry was the container?” As if there is any answer that will make destroying my things halfway reasonable. Brother takes cue to stay out of my fucking path for rest of fucking day.

Decide sunshine and calm productivity are required. Paint three shelf units on the back deck for two and a half hours. Sid brings continued updates on Charlie’s exploration of the cat tower. Manage to dip end of ponytail into paint. 

Go on mini tirade about state of kitchen being too depressing for words. Shortly after C informs me that brother was listening in the hall and slunk quietly back to his room when I was done ranting. I say, “Good. I hope he heard every fucking word.” Have Zero Fucks To Give.

End day with wine and tumblr in bed. Sid is asleep in Star Wars pjs, after we finished Where the Sidewalk Ends for the third time. C is snoring. Charlie is prowling. She keeps walking with her claws out, so we hear her, tick tick tick, on the laminate.

[capnjay21]

Brink, 3/?

Brink

But this woman was neither mermaid nor Brave, radiant but fierce — and the cool touch of steel to his skin reminded him of the sword she had pointed at his throat.

“My name is Emma Swan,” she said, in answer to the question he had yet to give voice to, “and I’m here for my son.”

Season 2 Canon Divergence; Hook never escaped Neverland, and once the curse breaks Pan comes to collect the loneliest lost boy of them all - the one in possession of the Heart of the Truest Believer.

A/N: chapter three! again, a longer time coming than I’d hoped, but it’s definitely shaped the way I wanted. thanks so much to everyone following this story, I’d love to hear what you thought!  Rating: T ao3 || one || two

If Emma had thought the heat would lessen the nearer Neverland drew to dusk, she was sorely mistaken. As the sun crawled across the sky and the pair of them continued to trudge through the jungle, the humidity levels seemed only to increase, making her head feel stuffy and her mood increasingly irritated the farther they walked. To make matters worse, the cacophony of ominous noises only grew louder as the day wore on, and left a lead weight of unease in the pit of her stomach. Her entire life she had only ever lived in cities, the patter and snaps of street rats the closest she’d gotten to wildlife until that goddamn wolf had run her off the road at the edge of Storybrooke so many months ago. Here, though, the forest had a life of its own. It practically chattered, anything from the muted and melodious to the sharp screeches of creatures she hoped were prowling miles away from where they were.

The entire island hummed with energy — with magic, although it still chagrined her to admit it. A modicum of the courage she usually took from her firm grasp of the hilt of David’s sword had slipped away with the dancing orange of early sunset across the sky, the weight of it finally beginning to settle and make her arms ache from the effort of keeping it aloft. Hook, irritatingly adapted to the island, carried his in a handy scabbard at his side. In her rush to get to Neverland, Emma hadn’t thought to bring one herself.

The only mercy was that for the last hour or so, Hook had grown silent. On the few occasions she had stolen a sideways glance at him he appeared deep in thought, dark eyes scouring the jungle shrewd and alert. Like an animal ready to pounce at any moment. Although their tentative peace lay between them, it still set her on edge to see him like that. His hook gleamed awfully at his side.

After forming their cautious alliance, he had suggested they return to his ship to regroup and find out if his crew had made any recent observations of Pan’s newest recruits. Emma had refused — she’d already lost most of the day, and she couldn’t think of a worse idea than following Hook into what, for all she knew, could be little more than a lion’s den. Her decision had irritated him, but he’d agreed to show her the last place Pan and his troop had been sighted. So far, it was the best lead they had.

“So,” Hook began loudly, snapping the silence between them like loosening an arrow. Apparently, her time for small mercies was up. “Tell me about this magic you possess. How did you come to be in Neverland?” His choice of conversation topic didn’t exactly thrill her, especially since she’d straight up lied to him about having an exit strategy sorted out. Jefferson’s hat had disappeared with Regina, and fuck knew where she was now. “A magic bean, perhaps?”

“A what?” Emma couldn’t hold back her snort of laughter, the suggestion so outlandish to her she figured he must have been joking. Hook only stared back at her evenly, eyebrow arched and looking far less amused. She supposed in a world with magic, something as crazy as a magic bean wasn’t so crazy at all. “No, not a — a bean,” she continued. “It’s a hat, it makes this, uh, purple vortex… thing,” she swallowed as Hook’s eyebrow inched closer to his hairline, “and you jump through.”

Hook left her sentence to mince in the air for long enough for her ears to redden, before merely turning his eyes skyward.

“You’re right, that’s far less ludicrous than a magic bean.”

Emma grimaced. “Shut up.”

“Show it to me,” he continued, lifting a few low hanging branches to allow them to pass. It wasn’t a request so much as a demand. A demand for something Emma didn’t have.

“What, so you can take off with it yourself before I get Henry back?” She fixed him with a glare. “I don’t think so.”

Hook stepped in front of her abruptly, blocking her path before she could scoot around him. He wore a determined expression — something that suggested danger lay in turning her back on it. From this close she could see his eyes weren’t solely blue, but flecked with silver towards the centre of the iris.

“Try something new, darling,” he growled. “It’s called trust.”

Emma met his stare evenly. “You must be used to people not trusting you.”

“Ah,” he threw up his hand to the canopy in a faux show of forgetfulness. “The pirate thing.” Emma rolled her eyes and pushed past him, and he let her. “As much as I enjoy adhering to your stereotype, Swan, if you and I are to be of any use to each other at least a modicum of mutual confidence must occur.”

“Do you deliberately use like fifty words where five will do, or is it involuntary?”

“Wait —” he started, but it wasn’t enough of a warning for the sensation of cold steel curling around her upper arm, and Emma was reacting entirely on instinct when she whirled around with David’s sword thrashing. Fortunately (or unfortunately, Emma wasn’t so sure), Hook’s reflexes were just as fast, and his free hand shot out to keep her wrist suspended above her head, and not swinging any heavy weaponry into the skulls of infuriating pirates. Hook’s eyes flickered upward to the sword and back down to her, looking for all the world like his mind had only just caught on to their new position, and it startled him. “You are a delight, aren’t you?”

Roughly, Emma wrenched herself away. “Don’t freaking hook me without some warning, god!”

She could see the tic in his jaw twitch. “I only meant to tell you to watch your step. We’re nearing the site of Pan’s most recent encampment — chances are he’s long gone by now, but perhaps we can find something of use.” He set off again, this time at a far slower pace than before. “Be wary of traps.”

Emma merely grunted in response, dropping her eyes to the ground and being careful to only step where he did; as infuriating as he was, she wasn’t about to dispute a veteran of the island. Between them only one had ever been face to face with Pan, and it certainly wasn’t her.

Before long, the unending cluster of jungle opened out into a clearing, but the thick foliage on all sides still cast it in gloomy, mossy shades. It was unmistakably a campsite, or it had been, with discarded wooden items littering the space — bowls, carved sticks she could only assume had been sharpened into weaponry, and various pieces of dirtied fabric. Barrels and larger rocks had been pushed into a circle around the remains of a fire, white ash long since covered with dust and by now surely cold, and large, unlit bamboo torches had been constructed around the perimeter. The entire effect was a crude one, and she tried to picture younger boys living in the wild space. It wasn’t too hard.

Henry, on the other hand? She couldn’t see it.

Emma stepped out into the clearing, scanning for any sign of her son as Hook moved to the edges, staring out into the jungle for potential threats. Per his warning she kept herself cautious, David’s sword at her side ready to spring up at a moment’s notice, but all she could make out in the rapidly fading light was dirt and the barest remnants of life.

“There,” Hook said quietly, “it’s as I suspected. Long gone. There are a few campsites like these across the island, the Lost Ones alternate between them and Pan’s compound at random.” There was a clatter as he kicked what resembled a cluster of arrows into the brush. “They know how to make themselves difficult to track.”

She was just about ready to tell Hook they should keep moving, when something finally caught her eye.

In seconds she was back by the charcoal and singed wood of the fire, kneeling and lifting a scrap of fabric from beside the ash. She’d know it anywhere. Henry’s midnight blue dressing gown. Although the edges were covered in patches of earth, the colour was unmistakable — as well as his name neatly embroidered in red underneath the collar.

“This is his,” she called over to Hook, “he was here. He is here.”

Relief almost overwhelmed her, relief from a concern she’d barely been able to consider since this whole Neverland business began; that he might not be there. That Gold might’ve lied, sent them on a wild goose chase for some twisted, horrific practical joke while her son’s life might be in the balance. But all that didn’t matter now. Henry was in Neverland, and she was a step closer to bringing him home.

“You say that like it’s good news, Swan,” Hook muttered darkly. “He’s with Pan now.”

As if on cue, the hum of the jungle grew louder, animals screeching and howling up into the sunset at a pitch which sent shivers down her spine. It was only as she watched Hook freeze, his hand instinctively flying to the hilt of his sword that she realised the crows and hollers might not belong to creatures of the forest, and they were getting closer.

“Is that —?” She daren’t even hope.

“The Lost Ones,” Hook confirmed. “We must find shelter, quickly!” To her complete astonishment, he started darting for the tree line in the opposite direction to the ever-growing clamour.

Emma was agape. “Are you kidding?” she blustered. “We have to follow them! Henry might be there!”

“Swan, listen to me when I say that charging into a confrontation with those beasts without a shred of forethought will be the last thing you ever do.” Before she could respond he had stalked back to her side and was trying to usher her into following him. “There could be any number of them in that pack, they could be anything from a scouting party to an entire garrison, and while I’m thrilled your boy has conveniently left some pretty garments for you to find, I for one do not intend to risk life and limb without some guarantee he’ll definitely be among them!”

“But we have to —”

“You wanted my help, do you intend to heed it or do you intend to die?”

After a split-second of indecision, Emma allowed him to steer them to the tree cover, but she made it clear she wasn’t pleased about it. Once there, he dragged her into the bush of some unfamiliar white flower, slashing a slit with his hook so they could still observe the clearing. Meanwhile the cries of the Lost Boys grew louder, and there was something distinctly animalistic about it that made the idea of them all the more haunting. With a crow they burst through the undergrowth, darting about in jagged lines and whacking sticks together to add to the clamour. It took Emma a moment to realise they were dancing — or giving a strange approximation of it.

Most were dressed in dark brown cloaks, hoods pulled up or strange fabrics tied over their eyes, obscuring their faces from view. Almost all were armed with some manner of club or bow, and yips and howls tore from their mouths and were carried up into the pale pink sky. Emma’s heart thudded against her ribcage, scanning the boys dancing around the fire for one of a familiar build, but just as suddenly as they’d appeared the Lost Boys were vanishing into the trees, taking their cries with them.

Only one slowed his pace, turning back into the clearing and instinctively Emma leant away from their slit, fearful of being spotted, and could feel Hook doing the same. She needn’t have worried. What caught the boy’s eye was something sitting close to the fire, and as he knelt down she realised it was Henry’s dressing gown; she’d abandoned it in her haste to find cover. The boy lifted it and pushed back his hood and a strangled cry lurched from Emma’s throat.

Henry.

Hook caught on fast. “Emma, wait —”

She barely even heard him. She leapt from their hiding place and out of range for his attempt to haul her back — but neither him nor curses or goddamn dragons could have stopped her from reaching her son, not at all.

Henry jerked back in surprise once she emerged from the undergrowth, before his expression morphed into one of joy. “Mom!”

He was racing toward her with equal speed and they collided near the edge of the stone circle, Emma dropping to her knees so she could crush him to her, David’s sword clattering somewhere to her right and his arms flying around her neck in return. God, when she noticed he felt slightly taller in her grip she realised just how long it had been since she’d seen him, held him. Weeks. The last time she’d laid eyes on him he’d been in a hospital gown, marvelling at the break of the curse, until his features had contorted with surprise and terror as Regina appeared in a puff of smoke and grabbed him from behind.

But now he was here, and she had him. He was safe. “Oh god, you’re okay, I’ve got you,” she knew tears were beginning to dribble down her cheeks but she was so relieved she could scream. Her hands were on his shoulders, his cheeks, in his hair, trying to reassure herself that he was real. That he was unharmed. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” he chirped, and he was grinning so wide she thought his face might crack. “I’m okay, I — what are you doing here?”

The question was so startling, she’d thought it would’ve been obvious, that it jerked her into really looking at her son for the first time. His hair was ruffled, face covered in smears of dirt and a small bruise was just turning purple on the underside of his jaw. Instead of the pyjamas she’d been expecting, he was dressed in brown woollen fabrics and a leather jerkin, some hastily stitched together boots and the long cloak she had seen on some of the other Lost Boys. Alarmingly, he didn’t look quite — he didn’t look like her Henry. No coat, no scarf (although that was back in Storybrooke at Regina’s mansion), no huge backpack. It was like he’d been there for a few weeks rather than just a day. Although, hadn’t Hook said something about time in Neverland passing differently to her world? Just how long had it been for him?

He looked like a character from his storybook.

She shoved the thought away as she stood. “I’m here to rescue you!” Grabbing his hand, she started pulling him back towards where Hook was still hiding. “C’mon, we don’t have much time, we’ll have to go before they —” Her movements were met with resistance, and she turned only to realise Henry had dug his heels in, and was trying to pull away. Her heart shuddered to a halt. “Henry?”

“I…” He bit his lip, throwing a glance back the way he’d come. “I can’t.”

“Of course you can,” Emma insisted. “Let’s go!” When he continued to hesitate, she realised he must be fearful of Pan discovering his escape — or perhaps he couldn’t escape? “Is it magic? Like a curse? It’s okay kid, we can break it.” She was getting pretty damn good at that now.

Henry shook his head. “It’s not, it’s… it’s you. I have to stay.”

The sudden notion of a rescue being unwelcome only then crossed her mind, and it horrified her. He’d been with Regina for weeks on his own, who knew what lies she’d been feeding him about her. Gold said he could only have been lured to Neverland if he was feeling unloved and alone — perhaps he didn’t think she wanted him anymore. The idea of it made her want to vomit; she loved this kid so damn much. She just hoped she was wrong.

“What are you talking about?”

Henry looked up at her with wide eyes. “You’ll never be happy while I’m around, my mom will never let you. She’ll always be there, you’ll always be fighting over me.”

Emma frowned, not sure what he was trying to say. “Henry, I don’t think —”

“Don’t you see?” he begged, in that same imploring tone he had used when he wanted her so desperately to believe in knights and magic and curses. “You broke the curse, this is your happy ending — you finally get to be with your parents!” Emma shook her head furiously, she couldn’t see any so-called happiness without him, not anymore. “And if I’m not there then Regina will never bother you again. I have to do what you did for me.”

Don’t you dare.

“I have to give you your best chance.”

No.

She wasn’t about to let her son talk himself out of a home.

“No,” she said firmly, fiercely, “no. You’re coming with me.” She bent to pick him up and sling him over her shoulder if she had to, but Henry recoiled so violently from the action that she stopped in astonishment.

“Don’t!” he yelped, hurt flickering across his features. “Don’t treat me like she did. I’m a person and I can make my own choices — and I’m choosing to be here. Please?”

A dull ache settled in her chest, pulsing to the rate of her heartbeat slamming against her chest; this wasn’t how it was supposed to go, he was supposed to want to come home with her, he was supposed to need to be rescued and they were finally going to be together. A significant part of her still wanted to just carry him the whole way back to Storybrooke if she had to, but the boy was right — if the last few months had taught her anything, it was that she wanted to be nothing like Regina. Not the kind of mother who would torment her son and send him off to therapy or kidnap him for weeks at a time. Maybe Regina really did love Henry, her vulnerability just two days earlier once she realised he was gone suggested as much, but that didn’t mean she gave that love in the way it should be given.

Emma knelt back down to face Henry, brushing her hand over the shell of his cheek and wiping an errant tear of his own that had begun to slid down. She was frighteningly aware that this might be the last time she saw him; but how could she make him want to come back, how could she put it into words that would get through to him?

“But what about…” She took a shuddering breath. “What about your happy ending, Henry?”

“I can be happy here,” Henry assured her, swallowing as his eyes flickered up into the trees, almost as if he were scanning for something. “I think. Peter is… Peter’s scary, and I’m the smallest boy but we play games all day and no one tells us what to do and we’re — free.” Emma couldn’t stop shaking her head, willing him to just stop. To be happy with her. But some place like Neverland had to feel incredible after weeks of nothing but the inside of Regina’s mansion. “Please don’t worry about me,” he continued gently, offering a weak smile. “The hero always has to make the hard choices.”

He stepped forward and tumbled back into her arms, kissing her once on the cheek as he held her like it would be the last time. Emma couldn’t stop a sob from shaking her shoulders.

“Mom,” he whispered into her ear, “I’m going to save magic.”

That sentence sent an icy chill through her blood.

It didn’t sound right.

She pulled away, trying to look him in the eye through the tears that had amassed there, furiously blinking them away. “What did you say?”

His smile was soft, his eyes awestruck, and he looked a thousand miles away. Emma shook his shoulders gently and his head dropped back from the tree canopy down to meet her gaze. For a moment she lost him, but he slid back into place as quickly as he’d vanished.

“I’ll miss you,” he said, and he sounded about as miserable as she felt. “But I’m going to be brave. Just like you. I love you, Mom.”

He wouldn’t let her bring him home. She was ready for the earth to crack, for lightning to strike; she just couldn’t imagine a life she was leading that he wasn’t in, but he wasn’t giving her that choice. It was his choice, and after years of letting others make decisions before her as she grew up, Emma wasn’t about to start forcing him to do a thing.

She hugged him one more time and he let her, trying to memorize the feel of him against her. The earthy scent of his clothing, the curve of his mouth when he laughed.

“I love you too, Henry.”

And then he was tugging himself away and although she was screaming for her arms to reach out and grab him back, she merely watched as he picked up the discarded dressing gown and lifted his hood. With a final pained look back at her, he disappeared into the jungle.

There was no chance of holding back the overwhelming tide of sadness after that.

***

Hook felt embarrassed to have witnessed the entire exchange.

It was bad form, utterly reprimandable form, but although he had tried to give the mother and son reunion some privacy, it was with a morbid fascination that he daren’t tear himself away the moment it started to turn south. He couldn’t help it. Never had a mother made it so far inland in an attempt to reclaim a Lost One. In fact, Hook had been around the Lost Ones for so many centuries that he scarcely even thought of them as boys anymore, just beasts in the bodies of youth. It was hard to remember they all possessed a mother who might care for them as Emma Swan did for this Henry, and it was humbling to have been confronted with such a stark reminder.

For whatever reason, the boy believed it would be best if he were left with Pan. The talk of curses and happy endings went entirely over Hook’s head, but the gist of it wasn’t difficult to understand — and if the way Emma had crumpled the moment the boy vanished into the trees it was hardly the reaction she had been expecting either. Privately, Hook suspected Pan had orchestrated the encounter in order to deter her, although he couldn’t prove it. Scarcely anything happened on the island without His knowing about it, and it was in his interests for the boy to tell his mother to leave himself. As determined as he’s seen her to be, whose request would she heed bar his?

He wrested with himself as to whether to approach her, but in the end his sense of self-preservation overwhelmed his gentlemanly tendencies; it was dangerous to stay in one place so near to darkness, let alone one of Pan’s travelling camps. As he trod across the clearing he kept his steps cautious, as if approaching a wounded animal, and from the trembling of her shoulders and what he’d just witnessed, well. She might well be. “Swan?” She didn’t appear to hear him.

Eventually he knelt down beside her, feeling awkward enough as it was without her noticing, and gently laid a hand on her shoulder to get her attention. She immediately jerked away from the contact and he tried not to be too offended when she looked up at him with her jade eyes shining, the rims of her eyes stained red and bloodshot.

“Are you… alright?” She clearly wasn’t, but saying anything else felt… wholly insensitive.

She sniffed but made a show of brushing it off, wiping her eyes with each hand.

“I thought convincing him to come home would be the easy part.”

Something about the way her voice quivered stung somewhere in a place he hadn’t touched for centuries.

“Pan has already poisoned his mind,” he murmured, reaching into the pocket of his vest and emerging with a black handkerchief. She ignored him when he offered it to her and stood up, brushing the dirt from the knees of her tight-clinging trousers. He followed soon after and stuffed the handkerchief back into his pocket. “You have to understand, most of the Lost Ones are… corrupted by Pan. Maybe they were boys once, but it takes a rare soul to resist Pan’s influence.”

Baelfire. Baelfire did.

Some abrupt, surging sense of pride coursed through him, and for a moment he was able to forget that he was the one who signed the boy away to Pan to start with.

“Henry will,” Emma said fiercely, and with that glint in her eye he was prepared to believe her. “He’s good. And he’s kind. And he’s only staying because he thinks it’s what’s best for us.” Her head dropped once more and Hook averted his eyes. Affording her emotion some privacy was the least he could do.

“So, what happens now?” he queried.

“Honestly?” Emma squinted out into the ever-darkening jungle, the light from the paling sky almost gone. “I don’t know. If he doesn’t want to be rescued, then…” She tapered off, lifting her arms in the barest approximation of a shrug before bending to retrieve her longsword.

The idea of this woman giving up did not settle comfortably with Hook, and he couldn’t quite distinguish the cause. The chances of his escape from Neverland undoubtedly vanished without the prospect of rescuing the boy, yes, but it was more than that. Perhaps it was the tempting possibility of Pan losing for once, of a boy escaping his clutches in the same way he prayed that Baelfire had.

Perhaps it was because he had once been in this position, given the opportunity to give a boy a home, and he’d given up at the earliest resistance from the boy in question.

Thank you, for reminding me what I’m all about. Killing your father.

He could at least prevent another from making the same mistake.

“If your boy is truly as strong as you say,” he found himself saying, hooking his hand on his belt as he turned back to her, “then I’d wager all is not lost. All you have to do is convince him to return before Pan can win him over completely.”

Emma watched him curiously, and Hook could almost pinpoint the exact moment she decided to consider him seriously — to him, at least, she was an open book.

She raised an eyebrow as she regarded him. “And how do you propose I do that?”

“Simple,” Hook continued, mirroring the action. “A Lost One can hardly become lost if his mother is still running around, can he?” This Emma conceded with a tilt of her head. “These boys believe they are alone, that Pan is all they have. Just continue to show him that isn’t the case.”

After a long moment she nodded, but couldn’t seem to find the words. In the growing dark, the shadow of the tree canopy bending overhead reminded him of the importance of moving on from this place.

“Come back to the Jolly Roger,” Hook suggested, and once she immediately stiffened he held up hook and hand in a placating gesture. “You must rest, and there are far greater dangers than my crew inland.” She continued to hesitate, but he insisted. “Look at me, Swan — have I told you a lie?”

“Not that I know of.”

“I just want to help.”

It was probably the increasingly ominous sounds rising from the jungle rather than his countenance that finally convinced her, but Hook didn’t care either way.

***

There was something reassuring about being back on the deck of the Jolly Roger. Hook had always felt far steadier with the ground swaying beneath his feet, tilting and creaking with the lap of the waves against the hull, and the brine of the air cutting sharply through his lungs and making him invincible. This was home. No matter the realm to which he embarked, the sea would always be the same. A companion and a god, to be loved and feared in equal measure. To be respected. Nobody dared curse the sea when they were trapped within a tempest, and in Hook’s opinion it should be no different in calmer waters.

He had convinced Emma to take lodging in his quarters, the lock she could secure from the inside a key selling point — at least this way he could be certain she wouldn’t be disturbed by his crew. Although he respected each of them in their own regard, they were as red-blooded as any other man and they hadn’t laid eyes on a woman for centuries. Not one who wasn’t sure to scalp them for any trouble, like the Braves, in any case. Although, over the short time he had become acquainted with Emma, Hook wasn’t entirely convinced she wouldn’t do the same given the chance.

Emma Swan could hold her own, certainly, but the lock on the door did wonders for setting Hook’s mind at ease. He wouldn’t stand for any such cruelty on his ship. It was better temptation lay far out of reach.

Starkey and Smee had merely raised their eyebrows when Hook had led Emma aboard, but his vehement glare dared them to make any remark to give him an excuse to swing his hook. Over the course of the trek back to shore he had reconvinced himself that his moment of encouragement after Emma’s encounter with the boy had been purely out of self-interest. He needed Emma Swan to retrieve her son so she could give him the means to travel to her land and destroy Rumpelstiltskin, it was as simple as that. Baelfire had not a jot to do with it. Nor did Emma Swan’s pretty jade eyes.

Only a skeleton crew had been left above deck in the midnight air, the rest having moved to their quarters to catch a few hours’ sleep before being woken for their respective watches. Hook almost preferred the twilight; there were fewer sailors milling about to disturb him, and there was nothing quite like the slip of velvet moonlight among the waves for soothing a troubled mind.

On this particular night, however, he wasn’t meant to tread the decks alone.

“Lovely evening, isn’t it, Captain?”

By now it shouldn’t have surprised him, but he still felt that lurch of fear in his gut at having been caught unguarded. It was rare that Pan strayed out into Neverland’s waters, usually preferring to send his lackeys, but it was far from the first time he had ventured onto the deck of the Jolly Roger.

Hook turned from the wheel to face him finding him perched on the railing at the stern of the quarterdeck, youthful face twisted into his customary smirk, although his hazel eyes were hard and unyielding.

Instinctively, his hand inched closer to his belt to be nearer to his cutlass.

“Enchanting,” he replied dryly, although he meant it. The starlight glittered across the waves in Neverland unlike any other realm. Although the boy wonder was unlikely to be there for the sight of it. “What can I do for you, Pan?”

The boy cocked his head to the side, regarding Hook carefully. “I’ve been a good friend to you, haven’t I?” Hook’s immediate response died on his tongue, not wishing to aggravate the boy; but friend was far from the word he would use to describe Peter Pan. “I welcomed you to my island, I let you sail in my waters. Eat from crop that grows on my land. I do all this for you, do I not?”

Hook clenched his jaw, but decided to play along. “You do.”

He must have blinked, for Pan was suddenly gone from the railing, his voice low and dangerous at his ear instead.

“Then why do you insist on being such a bad friend to me?”

The wind picked up, fluttering through the main sail with a sudden violence that startled the sailor in the crow’s nest. Hook, by now used to the rising and falling of Pan’s temper and the tempestuous conditions it usually brought at sea, merely feigned ignorance.

He spun around and smiled tightly at the boy, raising his eyebrow. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Pan’s answering grin was cold, his dark eyes lifeless and shrewd. “Don’t be coy, Killian. I know about the mother you’re hiding below deck.”

Despite his bravado, a jolt of fear seared through him. Of course he’d known Pan would find out, Neverland whispered hushed secrets on the breeze and eventually carried them all to its king, he just hadn’t realised it would be this soon. Undoubtedly he knew about Emma’s meeting with Henry that day as well. Just how much danger he could place himself and his entire crew in by allying himself against the master of the island was only now just becoming clear, with Emma Swan far below deck and unable to defend herself.

His decision today was reckless, and now he may well be paying the ultimate price.

Instinctively he began marking things out on the quarterdeck he could use as weapons, provided Pan make his conventional ones disappear; he wouldn’t be going down without a fight.

Hook arched an eyebrow. “Then why am I still alive?”

In a second Pan was gone again, this time resting upon a carronade on the starboard side.

“Because I’m in a good mood,” he remarked, “I’ve had a brilliant few days. Played lots of games, made some new friends.” His eyebrows knitted together as he feigned deep thought; by now Hook was more than familiar with the pantomime of his every dialogue. Pan liked to play with his food. “One in particular, actually, you might know. His name is Henry, and he’s become a very close, personal friend.” Pan nodded gravely, then abruptly he was at Hook’s side again. “I’d go as far to say I’d be devastated to lose him.”

Hook swallowed, he could see where this was going. “I see.”

“Convince Emma Swan to leave the island.”

Well, at least they were done playing games.

Hook raised a hand in half a shrug. “She won’t go without her son.” No thanks to him, at least.

“She did once before,” Pan shot back, and his expression lit up once he registered Hook’s surprise. “Failed to mention that, did she? Understandable. Far be it you to look for anything more beyond a pretty face.” He knew Pan was baiting him, so he refused to rise to it. “Alright,” he continued, and he was behind the wheel now. “How about we make it a deal instead? Convince Emma Swan to leave Neverland and I’ll give you what you want most.”

“And what would that be?”

“Passage off the island,” Pan gave the wheel and experimental spin, and the Jolly Roger groaned to accommodate him. “Permanently.”

Hook had just barely prevented himself from lurching forward and ripping the little bastard away from the helm, from the wheel that Liam had touched, to the extent that he didn’t even immediately register what Pan was offering. He’d just about convinced himself that the boy might never let them go — Emma Swan must be rattling his cage indeed.

Hook merely shrugged. “Perhaps I already have a way off the island.”

“Oh yes,” Pan snapped his fingers as if he were berating himself for his forgetfulness, “of course.” He vanished and the wheel was left spinning, so Hook immediately clunked it to a stop with his hook, righting the old girl as smoothly as he could. “And just where is this magic hat Emma keeps telling you about?”

It had been just a spark of doubt lingering at the corner of his mind, but Pan always knew just how to find those and fan them until they roared to life. Despite his best efforts, suspicion of the woman asleep in his cabin reared its ugly head, although he tried to hold it back from Pan. He couldn’t give an inch, or the boy would have him leagues under the sea.

Pan began prowling the quarterdeck, stepping slowly around him like a cat stalking its prey. “We’ve known each other for a long time, Killian. Why jeopardise a perfectly good working relationship on a stranger’s word alone?” The boy shrugged, as if it were entirely unfathomable to trust another over his smarmy little grin. “I’m no grown-up, but that sounds like pretty poor business sense.”

The worst of it was that it did.

He’d known Emma Swan for less than a day, and already she’d held a sword at his throat, got him captured by the natives, nearly led him into a pack of Lost Ones and even ousted him from his quarters (admittedly, the last was certainly his own fault). He’d let it all happen, even welcomed her into his home, and on what grounds? Her warm and earnest demeanour? The proof she even possessed the magic to get him where he needed to go?

His instincts, Liam would have said. You always were a good judge of character.

Instinct wouldn’t win him his revenge.

“So,” he started slowly, “you’re saying if I can persuade her to depart without her son, you’ll finally permit us to leave?”

Pan smirked, his eyes glinting like jet in the moonlight. “I’ll even make sure you get to the Land Without Magic unscathed. That is where you’re intending to go, isn’t it?”

It certainly was.

“And what if I don’t take your offer?” Hook enquired; partly to see if he could get a rise out of the boy, and partly to see just how desperate he really was to be rid of Emma Swan. Both interminably useful.

In seconds, the boy was at his side again, this time with a hand curled around his upper arm and his hot breath against his ear.

“I’m sure you remember what happened last time you didn’t listen to me.”

All magic comes with a price. Don’t leave the island unless you’re willing to pay it.

The grip on his arm was released as soon as it arrived, and in a remarkable show of speed Pan had lifted his flask from its position on its belt and held it up to him. “Have a drink, Captain. You know it always helps you think.” Hook had barely closed his fingers around it before Pan had entirely disappeared, the only whisper of his presence another quivering of the main sail, protesting as it was suddenly pulled taut despite the foresail not having moved.

Hook popped the cork on the top of the rum bottle with his teeth, before taking a generous swig as he paced slowly down from the quarterdeck, nodding briefly at the sailor on watch as he crossed to the prow. Once there he leant on the railing, keeping himself facing as far forward as he could around the bowsprit, to let the taste of the ocean spray hit the back of his throat. The island lay in front of him, the distant crest of Dead Man’s Peak disappearing into the clouds, mist shrouding most of the jungle from view. Escape from this accursed place had always felt farther than he could grasp, but not tonight.

Tonight it was tangible, he could practically pluck it right from the stars. He swallowed another gulp of rum; it did always help him think, but so did the sea.

Out in the blustery midnight air with the moon his only witness, Hook had a lot to be thinking about.

[bitegore]

Fic ask

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1. What are you most excited about when you start to write it/publish it?

Getting other people excited about the things I'm excited about! Or emotional about things I'm emotional about! or thinking about things I'm thinking about! Truly the joy of writing is getting to share your fucking brainworms, it's making your ideas contagious. Everyone will hear about my blorbos and they will CARE about them!

Especially with my current batch of fics- half are about Vortex (he whom liveth in my jacket pocket and i take to class with me, i love him that much) and the other half are about various OCs i care about, like Redshift and Bait, neither of whom I know how to shut up about. Making people care about my favorite background d lister losers and my imaginary little guys from the inside of my brain is the greatest thing ever, i love it so so so fucking much.

(This is also why origfic/proper publishing doesn't work so well for me - this is the kind of joy you basically only get when your audience has a comment box to screm into.)

13. Is there any unwritten/unpublished fics you haven’t mentioned you’re gonna do?

I don't think so. I can't shut my mouth about things like this XD I forget about so many fics after I start them.

Hm.

......maybe the "Nightbeat fucking dies and so does Prowl" eugenesis bad-ending. I don't know. Did I talk about that? I feel like I did.

20. Give a vague description of something that will happen without revealing too much

:3333 ok ok ok so im gonna do a very poetic one for Transmissions because i think everyone will kill me about it and then i'm going to do a real one for the tmnt/g1 roleswap

Transmissions: Everyone dies, no one dies, everyone is forever changed by the experience in ways they never foresaw or wanted and no one is happy, not even Tori; the universe wants to see you die in a million awful ways and it's your job to stand up and decide to not go when your number is called, and not to let your friends go when theirs is. Even if you're a loser noncombatant who hasn't fired a gun in six hundred years. Also the power of friendship is more powerful than the power of entropy and deciding to stand by someone is half the trick.

TMNT/G1 Roleswap: Wildrider, by virtue of having psychosis, is the only one to successfully make omlettes for the other Stunticons and therefore saves the day. That is actually a very succinct summary of the plot for chapter/episode 9, but it obviously is a bit more complicated than that lmfao.

Question list can be found here :D