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kazoosandfannypacks · 1 year ago

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Just the Way We Roll by kazoosandfannypacks

Pairing: Captain Swan Rating: General Audiences Word Count: 3K Summary: Killian Jones is just a simple teenager trying to navigate life. But when his brothers try to help him talk to his crush, it doesn't quite go as planned. Author’s notes: [In this fic, Liam II is named William, and Emma and Henry aren't related.] I feel like "Killian as a middle sibling" isn't a dynamic used nearly enough in fics, and decided to play around with "his brothers try to help him flirt and it doesn't go well." Taglist: @zahara @kmomof4 @jonesfandomfanatic @booksteaandtoomuchtv @jrob64 @tiganasummertree @anmylica @teamhook @undercaffinatednightmare @gingerchangeling @lonelyspectator @caught-in-the-filter @ultraluckycatnd @cs-rylie @silver-the-phoenix @pawshapedheart [if you’d like to be added to or removed from this list, hmu in my dms or askbox!] Also on Ao3!

Being an older sibling seemed easy enough. Having people who always look up to you, paving your own path, never living in someone else's shadow- it all comes so easy to the oldest sibling.

Being a younger sibling didn't seem too hard either. Your parents are more lax on the rules, they make less mistakes because they've learned from how they messed up your older siblings, and you've got older siblings to look out for you.

But being a middle sibling was difficult. Keeping an eye out for your younger siblings, living in the shadow of your older siblings- your parents still messing up with you, yet having expectations for you from your older siblings. It was the worst of both worlds- but after ten years of having a younger brother and seventeen of having an older brother, Killian was used to it. He'd gotten used to the fact that William would beg to tag along anywhere he went. He'd gotten used to the fact that Liam would always be around to tease him. He'd gotten used to the hand-me-downs and the handing-down, to needing advice and then giving advice, to being annoyed by his younger brother and annoying his older brother.

But if there's one thing he didn't think he'd ever get used to, it was his brothers' outgoing natures. To William and Liam both, a stranger was just a friend they hadn't met yet, whether it was a kid William met at the McDonald's playplace or a new employee Liam met at the local ice cream stand. Liam's charisma and William's enthusiasm were enough to charm the hearts of any stranger.

Killian, however, was not so gifted at meeting new people. For one thing, he didn't really need to be- Liam's friends had always accepted him as part of the group anyways- and for another, he didn't usually care to. He wasn't a huge fan of talking to people, never knowing what to say, or how to say it, or when- it was easier if he just didn't talk at all. He had plenty of online friends, anyways, from his RPG groups and writing circles, and he'd always been content with just that.

That is, until his older brother dragged him along with him to the local pizza parlor for dinner. Their mom was away for the night (and their dad had been away for much longer,) and Killian had been looking forward to spending an evening in, planning on proofreading a manuscript one of his friends had been begging him to beta.

Unfortunately, Liam had decided they'd have much more fun going out for pizza that night, and William agreed- much to Killian's dismay. So, instead of reading his friend's historical fantasy WIP while listening to his favorite gaming soundtracks, he found himself eating pizza with his brother, in a seat much too close to the nearby jukebox, which was playing "What's New, Pussycat" for what seemed like the twenty-first time.

But he didn't mind it nearly as much as he thought he would. After William had devoured a couple slices of pizza, he'd run off to play at the arcade consoles with a new friend he'd made. Liam then began talking with Killian about some of their friends, and Liam's upcoming victories as captain of the football team, and which of the Spiderman movies was the best adaptation.

But what really made him enjoy his time- or, at the very least, made him stop wishing that he was back home by himself- was when he noticed some girls from school, sitting at a table across the way- one of those girls being the new girl, Emma Swan.

If ever there was a person Killian was scared to talk to, it was Emma Swan. Her golden hair and charming smile were enough to turn loose the butterflies in his stomach- but her confidence, even in her new surroundings, combined with how quickly she'd fallen in with some of the cooler girls- altogether she was too cool for him to even think about talking to her.

Fortunately for Killian, girls like her didn't tend to notice guys like him, so she didn't notice how much he was staring at her from his seat behind the jukebox.

Unfortunately for Killian, big brothers always notice when you're crushing on someone.

"Does she go to our school?" Liam asked.

Killian turned back to Liam, trying to pretend he hadn't been staring at Emma- the last thing he needed was Liam meddling with his fantasy.

"Who?" Killian asked.

"That girl you haven't been able to take your eyes off since she came in."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Killian said, making the mistake of glancing back at Emma and her friends- and seeing her laugh at one of her friend's jokes, which brought a tell-tale smile to his face.

"Killian Jones," Liam said, "you are the worst liar I've ever met."

"Am not!" Killian said.

"You like her," Liam smiled.

"She's just a girl from school," Killian said, "she's new; I barely know her."

"What's stopping you?" Liam asked.

"From getting to know her?" Killian asked, half laughing.

"Just go over there and talk to her," Liam said.

Killian knew Liam was only trying to be supportive, but at the same time, he could've said "just go jump in a pit of razor blades" and Killian would've been more willing to oblige.

"Talk to her?" Killian asked, "me? It's not that easy."

"Why not?" Liam asked, "just go over and say 'hi.'"

"Maybe the captain of the football team can do that," Killian said, but "I don't think I could…."

"Exactly, don't think," Liam said, standing up, "just do it. Thinking's what gets you into trouble."

"What?" Killian asked, his brother already having walked around the table to the jukebox.

"This'll be your song," Liam said, putting a few quarters in the slot, "it'll boost your confidence."

"What song?" Killian asked, getting up to look at the jukebox, knowing there was no point in trying to stop his brother when he had his mind made up.

"Our jam," Liam put a hand on his brother's shoulder, "That's Just The Way We Roll."

"Jonas Brothers?" Killian asked, "You want me to talk to Emma with Jonas Brothers playing in the background?"

"Only thing better than the Joe Bros is the Jones Bros," Liam wiped a dab of sauce off Killian's face, "even if one of them needs a little more confidence."

"I still don't know about this," Killian said.

Their conversation was interrupted by William, who'd apparently exhausted all his arcade quarters.

"Do you have any more quarters?" William asked Liam, "Henry and I ran out."

"Who's Henry?" Killian asked.

"My new friend," William said.

"How'd you like to help your brother make a new friend now?" Liam asked William.

"You?"

"I don't need your help," Liam said, "but there's a pretty girl over there who's caught Killian's eye, and he needs our help to impress her."

"I don't need…"

"Okay!" William said, "what do you need me to do?"

"Just follow my lead," Liam said, "and make Killian look good."

"You got it!" William said.

"I woke up, on the roof, with my brothers," the jukebox played.

"That's your cue," Liam said. He put his hand on Killian's shoulder and pushed him ahead of them, towards Emma and her friends.

"I wonder how much paperwork goes into disowning your older brother," Killian thought, as they got closer to the table and he still didn't know what he was gonna say.

The girls at the table stopped talking and looked up at them, their eyes quizzically fixed on the Jones brothers.

"Hi," Killian said, his stomach in knots and shoulders tense, "I uh, we go to the same school."

"Emma, is it?" Liam reached around his brother to shake Emma's hand, "I'm Liam."

"No need to introduce yourself," one of the other girls, whom Killian recognized from the cheerleading squad, interrupted, "I think we all know the captain of the football team when we see him."

"Anna, right?" Liam asked, "Kristoff's girlfriend?"

"That's me," Anna nudged the girl next to her, "and this is my sister, Elsa."

"A pleasure to meet you both," Liam said, flashing a dazzling smile at Elsa, then turning slightly to Emma, "and have you met my brother, Killian?"

"I've seen you around," Emma smiled a little, not at Killian, "I didn't pick up on the familial connection, I guess."

"Jones is a fairly common last name," Liam said, "and Killian hasn't picked up on nearly as much of the family charisma and charm as I have."

Even if Killian had found his voice, he couldn't've argued with that.

"And I'm William!" William piped in, "I'm their brother!"

"Oh?" Elsa smiled at the child, "are you on the football team too?"

"I don't even go to your school!" William said, "but I go to all of Liam's football games. I'd go to Killian's games too, if he was good at sports."

"What part of 'make Killian look good' does he not understand?" Killian thought, before realizing it was probably the word "Killian."

"Yet another thing that didn't run in the family," Liam smiled.

"Would you guys like to join us?" Anna asked, sliding herself over and pulling her sister along with her, "I'm sure we can make room for you."

"We'd love to," Liam said. He slid into the now-empty space in the booth, next to Elsa.

Killian took a seat in the booth next to Emma, feeling a little too uncomfortable to even look at her.

"This was a bad idea," Killian thought, sitting at the edge of the booth, hoping his cheeks weren't red from either embarrassment, awkwardness, or any more stray pizza sauce.

Whether fortunately or unfortunately, Killian wasn't quite sure yet, but either way, William crawled under the table and popped back up between Emma and Killian, taking a seat between them.

William tugged at Killian's sleeve and motioned for him to lean down. Killian did so, and William cupped his hands around his ear to whisper to him- but when you're ten years old, it's hard to tell the difference between "whispering" and "talking so loud the whole restaurant can hear it." Unfortunately for Killian, William did the latter.

"Is she the girl you can't impress?" William asked, his voice somehow a million times louder than usual, "the one you needed our help with?"

Killian blushed a little, glancing up at Liam and reading his expression, knowing that it was definitely loud enough, at the very least, for the whole table to hear.

"I never said that," Killian scratched the back of his neck, behind his ear.

"Shhhhh!" William reminded him they were supposed to be whispering, "you didn't, Liam did, remember? He said you need more confidence and there's a pretty girl you can't impress without our help."

Killian hid his face in his hand, wondering now how much paperwork went into disowning himself.

Liam pulled a few quarters out of his pocket.

"Why don't you head back to the X-Wing Fighters game?" he asked, handing William the quarters.

"Okay!" William said, "Nice meeting you girls!"

"It was nice meeting you too," Anna said, as William crawled across Killian, adding injury to insult as he left the booth.

Killian looked at Emma out of the corner of his eye, and behind her soda sipping straw was a sympathetic smile.

"Great, just what I need," Killian thought, "she probably feels sorry for me."

Killian hunched his shoulders and looked away from her, intently studying a stain on the table. He then remembered what Liam said about the song playing on the jukebox, and listened closely to the lyrics now playing.

"If we lose, all the girls, they'll be laughing"

"They'll be laughing pretty soon here if I open my big mouth and say something stupid," Killian thought.

He looked up at his brother and took heart, knowing that at least one of the Jones brothers knew how to function in society.

"I don't see how Liam got all the charisma and charm." Killian thought, "I want to go home- or, at least, go sit at the table behind the jukebox like none of this happened. I don't know how to talk to people, let alone girls."

"So, do you ladies come here often?" Liam asked.

"Anna and I do," Elsa said, "our favorite weekend hangout- this is our first time bringing Emma along with us though."

"I just moved in a couple weeks ago," Emma said, "Anna and Elsa've been helping me adjust pretty well though. Our parents have apparently been friends since before any of us were born."

"Glad to see you're, uh, well adjusted so far," Killian said, wondering if that sounded as awkward as he thought it did once he'd said it.

"Thanks, I guess," Emma said.

"Have you stopped by Scoops and Shakes yet?" Liam asked Emma.

"Not yet," Emma said, "Elsa and Anna told me it's the best ice cream place in town though." "A slight understatement," Liam said, "one of the best on the planet. Perhaps my brother and I could you treat you ladies there tonight?"

"Sounds pretty cool," Elsa said.

"That was an ice one," Liam smiled.

Emma groaned and rolled her eyes as Anna and Liam laughed.

"I've got snow problem coming up with them," Elsa said.

"You're quite clever," Liam smiled, then glanced at Killian, a look in his eyes that said he'd forgotten his role as wingman, but was just remembering it.

"Care to join us at Scoops and Shakes after this?" Liam asked Emma.

"I don't know," Emma said.

"I'm sure my brother would be glad for your company," Liam smiled.

Emma looked at Killian, expectantly, and he realized now he'd have to say something to her- something smooth, calculated, charming, cool- like Liam would. He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't come up with anything.

"That's it;" Killian thought, "I'm stopping by the county offices tomorrow and disowning myself. I'll go join Uncle Nemo's shipping company in Maine, never look back."

"No, I, uh," Killian stammered, wondering how to avoid coming on too strong without avoiding coming on at all. "I might be able to uh," he made the mistake of looking at Emma, rendering himself entirely speechless at the sight of her smile.

"You're really pretty," Killian mumbled.

"What was that?" Emma asked, her tone not revealing if she liked what she heard.

Killian covered his tracks- but covered them with the dirt beneath his feet, digging himself into a deep hole.

"I said I need to use the privy!" Killian said, even louder than William had "whispered" to him earlier. He got up from his seat quickly, and ran to the bathroom.

He shut the door of one of the bathroom stalls, not needing to use the bathroom, of course, but needing to step back and think, and wondering if his mom would still write to him if he ran away to Maine.

"Curse that brother of mine," he muttered to himself, "why can't he understand that we're not all like him? I can't be him."

But maybe that was Killian's problem. Maybe he was trying too hard to be like his brother- so much so he was neglecting to be himself.

But if he was really gonna be himself, he'd be in his room right now, by himself, perfectly content to stay that way.

When he left the bathroom, he saw William and his new friend playing at one of the arcade consoles, and figured it was as good an excuse as any to keep stalling.

"How're you doing, kid?" Killian rubbed his little brother's hair. "Putting that Imperial Scum in their place?"

"No!" William said. "We can't seem to get past this TIE Interceptor."

Killian smiled. Taking on a whole fleet of TIEs was easier for him than trying to woo a girl.

"May I?" Killian asked.

William quickly stepped off to the side, and Killian took his place in front of the console. As he'd suspected, he did pretty well taking down the enemy invasion, and soon lost himself in the rush of the game and the cheers of the younger boys.

"I think I got it from here," William smiled, pushing his big brother out of the way, "thanks!" "Man, we never could've gotten this far without your brother!" Henry told him.

Satisfied that he'd at least done something right in the last ten minutes, he turned around, with a smile on his face. He quickly realized, though, that he hadn't noticed another spectator to his game- until he turned around and almost ran into her.

"That's some pretty good shooting there, Red Five," Emma smiled.

"I, uh," Killian took a deep breath, "I didn't peg you for a Star Wars fan."

"Why not?" Emma crossed her arms, "because I'm a girl?" "Of course not," Killian said, "it's just rare to meet someone else who shares my interests, especially someone as cool as you."

"You think I'm cool?" Emma asked.

"Yeah," Killian said, "not many people can claim good looks alongside knowing Luke Skywalker's callsign."

"I think someone else here can," Emma smiled.

Killian blushed a little, his mouth an open smile as he thought of what to say next- not of what his brother would say next, but what he would say next.

"Do you game as well?"

"Sometimes," Emma said, "though I'm not very good at it."

"Have you ever played the Fallen Order games?" "Haven't had the time or motivation yet," Emma said.

"Liam and I have them on the XBox," Killian said, "If you'd ever did have the time or motivation, I'd love to show you."

"Sounds like a date," Emma said.

"Only if you wanted it to be," Killian said, shyly looking down at his shoes.

"Speaking of dates," Emma said, "did you wanna join the others over at Scoops and Shakes? I hear it's the best ice cream on the planet."

"Liam was being facetious when he said that," Killian said, "but it is one of the best on a student's budget." They started to walk away, but he suddenly remembered his little brother.

"William," Killian turned back to his brother, "time to go."

"Go?" William asked, not turning his back on his game, "already? Five more minutes?" Killian rolled his eyes, then mouthed "watch this" to Emma.

"We're getting ice cream," Killian said.

"Finish it for me!" William jumped away from the console as Henry stepped into his place.

"You got it, Gold Leader," Henry said, "may the force be with you!"

"May the force be with you!" William called back, already past Emma and Killian and on his way to the door.

"Shall we?" Killian asked, holding a hand out, gesturing in front of them.

"Yeah," Emma smiled, and, much to his surprise, took Killian's hand in hers.

He blushed, hoping his hand wasn't sweating too much, having never held hands with a girl before.

As they rejoined with the others, Liam nodded at Killian and gave him a discreet thumbs up, to which Killian nodded in return.

Killian looked back over at Emma and smiled a little, realizing that he wouldn't've gotten this close to her if Liam hadn't pushed him, and that maybe, just maybe, he didn't need to disown himself just yet.

#once upon a time #ouat #killian jones #emma swan #liam jones #liam jones ii #captain swan #the brothers jones #fanfiction #ouat fanfiction #ouat ff #kazzy writes #once upon a time season 5 #elsa ouat #anna ouat #frozen jewel #the jonas brothers #kazzy writes cs oneshots

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lhhomefics · 2 years ago

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Thank you for @wabadabadaba for mentioning me in your 2022 Writing Self Evaluation 💕 I'm taking that as a tag to do this too because I want to do it.

I became a part of the fandom just last year and started writing towards the end of that so most of my writing has been done in this year and I just want to have that here, especially because besides writing there’s been a lot of other stuff that’s happened in my life too so I think I need to take a moment to reflect and be proud of myself. Writing has also really helped me process things I wouldn’t have otherwise so this is an ode to my writing. Okay on with this!

1. Number of stories posted to AO3 this year: 21

2. Word count posted for the year: 66,217

3. Fandoms I wrote for: One Direction, British Singers RPF, Music RPF, American (US) Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Orville Peck (Musician), Professional F1 Esports RPF

Putting a cut here because the next question is pairings and there are a lot (as expected!)

4. Pairings: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson/Emma Corrin, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Marcel/Louis Tomlinson, Harry Styles/Harry Styles, Harry Styles/Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Angelina Jolie/Harry Styles, Niall Horan/Zayn Malik/Liam Payne/Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Niall Horan/Hailee Steinfeld/Zayn Malik, Niall Horan/Hailee Steinfeld, Orville Peck/Harry Styles, Nick Grimshaw/Harry Styles, Nick Grimshaw/Meshach Henry, Louis Tomlinson/Lando Norris, Louis Tomlinson/Lizzo, Harry Styles/Zayn Malik, Harry Styles & Olivia Wilde, Olivia Wilde/Dianna Agron

5. Story with the most:

Kudos: Moonstruck

Bookmarks: Moonstruck

Comments: head all full of stuffin'

6. Work I’m most proud of (and why): Nasha Tera. I really wanted to write a fic that I could relate to because there aren’t many that have the kind of representation of religion that I was looking for. Even though this fic had barely any readers and I’ve wondered about that I am proud of myself for writing it and for putting myself in the fic in some ways and for the stream of consciousness style of writing style I let myself have.

Also all my wordplayfics. I set myself with a challenge with those and I think i succeeded and wrote some great stuff!

7. Work I’m least proud of (and why): Need Love. Not to be hard on myself but I feel like this was missing something and I wasn’t entirely happy with it but that’s a me thing. I know there’s people who liked it and I did too it’s just that I feel like I could have done better. I do hope to return to this verse and do the pairing more justice than I felt like I did.

8. Share or describe a favorite review you received: A review I received on Nasha Tera. It was a really lovely comment and made me feel seen <33

9. A time when writing was really, really hard: Once again I mention Nasha Tera because this was a tough fic to write for me due to it’s personal nature. I was scared to write it, scared to post it, scared to have it out there and that translated in me feeling blocked.

Another time is with another fic that I am writing. I started that fic at the start of the year but it’s still not done and I’ve had a few times that I have been blocked on it. I hope to get it done at the start of next year though. It is called Lives in Daydreams and I’ve spoken a bit about it here.

10. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you: Ordinary Day and head all full of stuffin'. These could both be considered horror and I never expected to write that genre but I did and I think I did them well!

11. A favorite excerpt of your writing: This is from Better with you (not a 1D fic). This makes me laugh each time but also makes me a little sad and I love that I wrote it:

“Plus he’s like a popstar or whatever so I don’t know what to expect from his fans either!” Olivia exclaims. She is no stranger to hate from random strangers on the internet. It’s something you learn to block out when you get some notoriety, otherwise it would be too much. She can only hope that whatever happens doesn’t mess up her career, being a female director isn’t exactly a walk in the park.

“Oh really? Who is it?” Dianna can't help but ask. She’s getting this sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She knows it’s highly unlikely, after all what is the likelihood of a coincidence like that happening? So really Dianna only asks this to get rid of the unwarranted feeling she’s getting.

“Harry Styles,” Olivia says, proving Dianna’s wary feeling to be valid. Dianna feels like if Olivia hadn’t been gripping her she would fall off of her lap. She hadn’t really expected for her hunch to be correct.

“Like Harry Styles from One Direction? That Harry Styles? What’s he doing acting?”

“Um yes? I only know that it’s something he wants to try.” Olivia confirms, slightly confused at the disgruntled expression on her girlfriend's face.

“Taylor, as in my ex Taylor’s, ex fake boyfriend Harry Styles?!” Dianna prods further.

12. How did you grow as a writer this year: I challenged myself to write things that were a little difficult but I wanted to write them, I wrote with strict word limits and I think I did well, I wrote a lot of different pairings and types of fics.

13. How do you hope to grow next year: I want to continue to write whatever I want and not worry about hate or whether people like it. I also want to try writing more fics outside of One Direction. I also want to challenge myself to write fics where there is some world building. My first attempt will be in a fic I talk about here.

14. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc):

First of all the @writerscornercafe discord. The people in it who have helped me with my questions and the mods for making this great place to help us write. I wrote a lot thanks to the monthly sprints that I attended, I am glad I joined it.

@wabadabadaba you are someone I can talk to about my ideas and I know you’ll be just as excited as me about them, even if I leave cliffhangers and hide some ideas from you :P thankyou for being there and motivating me to write and cheerleading me! <3 Also, I love love love your writing and I’m proud of you for writing what you want!

@uhoh-but-yeah-alright you have been a great beta for some of my fics and I feel lucky that one of my favorite writers in this fandom likes my fics. Thankyou for all your help, you’ve helped me improve my writing and your comments on the works you’ve betaed are always so lovely. Your comments on my other fics always make me smile too. Thankyou for the love <3

@homosociallyyours you are another of my favorite writers. Thankyou for your help with some of my works! I always love discussing ideas with you and I hope you feel the same. <3

@jlf23tumble I don’t know if you know it but your comments on my fics are always great to see! Thanks for being someone I can talk to about fics that no one else might want to hear about! You’ve really helped me to write the stuff I want to write instead of caring about who will read it. And some of my fics have definitely been inspired by conversations with you! Also thankyou for being a great friend <33

15. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year: The two times that I have written a girl Zayn centered fic (i.e. Right Now I Can’t See Straight and Nasha Tera) I have put pieces of myself in there. The struggles with religion and conservative upbringing and figuring out her sexuality that the Zayn in these two fics goes through in different capacities mirrors my own. Nasha Tera has some more small details that are from my real life too. Another writing that mirrors some of my own feelings is Just Me. I’m sure my other writings probably have some bits of me too to a much smaller extent. Other than that not many real details about me really show up in my writing.

16. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers: Write what you want to write, write for yourself. I know it’s not easy but it’s worth it.

17. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year: I have quite a few WIPs that I’m hoping to complete in the new year. 4 are for fests, the others are not but I might still join some more fests and add to my wips.

18. Tag some writers whose answers you’d like to read.

@homosociallyyours @uhoh-but-yeah-alright and anyone else who wants to do it!

#writing self evaluation #about my writing #tag games #my fics 2022

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gretagerwigsmuse · 11 months ago

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okay fine! maybe i will also rewatch the barbie movie tonight 💕

You glance around the theater as the previews roll, the costumes and bright pink of the people in the room standing out as you snack. You’re a little underdressed, it seems. - this is so sweet already! i wanna picture rebel going back with april and both of them dressing up! maybe they even bring liam with them (don’t get me started on badass/cool aunt rebel sneaking him into oppenheimer 💀 he’s gonna get quite the eyeful of miss flo 🤭)

You doubted you’d even cry. - REBEL!! my sweet girl!

April had gotten it all right when she said that the movie dually captured the reality of what it was like to be a woman while also the beauty of it too - and you hadn’t anticipated it cutting so deep. - and that’s why i loved barbie so much!

But sometimes you craved having someone to teach you how to do your make-up, someone to gossip with over a glass of wine, someone to guide you when you didn’t know where else to go. - oh sweet girl! i wish she had carole in her life for all of that and the bit about wanting to go to carole for advice 🥺

“You are the most incredible woman I have ever known. You may not see it, but Rebel is only a small part of you.” - obviously we’ll never know for real, but i imagine that it can weigh on these pilots always being referred to as their callsign? and always having to be that person? you’re always reminded of that moment when you got it? so much so that you may feel like you always have to be it? and it breaks your heart in a way? because i know when i write bradley, sometimes he just wants to be bradley? he doesn’t want to be rooster? and i think having a callsign like rebel, would do something similar? she can’t always be a rebel and be strong and rebel even can have negative connotations that she doesn’t want to think of anymore? idk i’m rambling but i like to think that after a while bradley goes from calling her rebel every now and then in addition to her name, to just calling her by her name?

“You know, one of the reasons I fell in love with you was because of how much you care for others. And I know- I know what the Navy did to you is never going to go away and I am glad you left it behind, especially because those things- they’re ingrained into the culture of that place. But what if- what if there was a way for you to help others? You always say how there wasn’t anybody to help you, but what if you were there to help the girls still in it?” - i love how you’ve chosen this path for her post navy! like seriously it makes me so so happy, like even having one girl not go through what rebel did is enough, to think of the countless girls she can help? and i like that bradley got her thinking about it, especially invoking on her kindness and how that made him fall in love with her? because she is kind, but only to those that deserve it, and that’s something i can totally agree with

“…and yet you guys are going as Ncuti Ken and Emma Barbie?!” - they were also my favorites!!! ugh i love emma and ncuti has such amazing energy and moxie as an actor!!

what was i made for?

note: i wrote this piece after seeing the Barbie movie in july and got so enraged by what happened at the golden globes that i just had to finish this. i don't know if anyone will read this but i just wanted to post it. Rebel is my most special girl. (@cottagecori unknowingly came up the ending to this fic)

same mistakes

word count: 1.5k

You squeeze Liam’s shoulder, passing him the ticket. “And what do you say if anyone asks why you’re in there without an adult?”

“Your stomach was bothering you, so you went to the bathroom.”

“And?”

“Then I text you to come back to the theater.”

“Correct. And?”

“Um…”

“Not a word of this to your dads, do you understand me?”

He nods eagerly.

You hum, letting him go. “Have fun, kid.”

Liam’s grin is wide as he bounds into the theater across the hall as you sigh.

Liam had only been with Jake and Javy for about four months now, and already knew exactly how to play you to get what he wanted.

You weren’t exactly sure who had put their foot down about Liam seeing Oppenheimer, but regardless, Liam’s dads had said no, leaving the boy disappointed. Apparently, his best friend Carter had an older sister who had snuck their whole friend group into Oppenheimer the week before while Liam had been in Savannah with his dads.

So, when you had suggested seeing a movie today to keep Liam occupied, he’d had a look on his face you just knew you wouldn’t be able to say no to.

You turn, walking into the theater with your popcorn, sitting down in your chair.

You glance around the theater as the previews roll, the costumes and bright pink of the people in the room standing out as you snack.

You’re a little underdressed, it seems.

“The Barbie movie did more for me in two hours than two years of therapy.”

April’s words played in your head as you watched the movie, seemingly doubtful this movie could needle you so much.

You doubted you’d even cry.

Take my hands, close your eyes, now feel.

The first tear startled you as it slide down your face, not even realizing it was going to happen until your throat closed in on you.

You got up from the theater as the tears came in succession, warm against your face as you pushed out the doors, out past the concessions stand and into the fresh air of Grossmont Shopping Center, sitting down next to the fountain across from the Cold Stone.

A little boy stared at you as you broke down in tears, not even really sure why you were crying.

It was so hard to sit there and watch that montage, to feel the love that emanated from those clips. The way America Ferrieria looked at her character’s daughter with so much love it made your chest physically ache.

It wasn’t often your Mom’s absence popped up like this, when you had wished so badly to know what it was like to experience a mother’s love.

Your Dad’s love was enough for you and that was all that mattered to you.

But sometimes you craved having someone to teach you how to do your make-up, someone to gossip with over a glass of wine, someone to guide you when you didn’t know where else to go.

The closest you’d ever gotten to a strong maternal figure was Carole, and she was long gone by now.

God, all you wanted right now was to say to give her one last hug.

To say thank you for all the unconditional love she had offered you so freely when it came at a cost from everyone else.

Bradley snickers as he rolls over in bed. “Now that it’s just the two of us: did you sneak Liam into Oppenheimer today? Your secret’s safe with me.”

You glance up at him from where you’re looking at the photo album. “What?”

He pauses, clearly seeing something on your face as he begins to frown. “Everything okay? You’ve been kind of quiet this evening.”

You shrug, looking down at the photo album in your hands. He moves, shifting to sit next to you.

“I miss her.” You say quietly. “I miss her so much B.” You say with a shake of your head, as you feel your throat close up again. “God, I- I wish so badly she was here to tell me what I’m supposed to do now, to help me figure out who I’m supposed to be.” You snap the album shut, sliding it away from you as you tilt your head back, trying to blink away the tears. “God- and I’m- I’m always fucking crying and I never ever mean to and I-”

Bradley’s hand glides up your thigh to sit on your waist, tugging you towards him. “Honey, what- where is this even- what are you talking about?”

You sniff, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. “I went to go see the Barbie movie today while Liam saw Oppenheimer – don’t give me that look, he was not hiding it well at all – and it just made me- it just made me miss your Mom.” You admit quietly.

Bradley’s next breath is heavy and shaky as he tightens his grip on you. “I miss her too, you know. Every day.”

“I wish she was here to tell me what to do now that I don’t know who I am.” The words come out soft as you shrug, looking down at where your fingers intertwine with Bradley’s. “Your Mom - she always had the best advice. And she always knew just what to do next, even when I never saw a way forward. She was so kind- and- and witty and clever. And I- I don’t feel like I am even half of that.”

“Baby-”

“And I thought I had my whole life and my identity. I was a Navy pilot, following in the footsteps of the people who raised her and I thought I knew who I was supposed to be and what I was meant to do and even if I wasn’t happy, it was- I don’t know- I’m just- I’m so lost Bradley.” Another tear trickles down your face. “I thought I was Rebel but maybe I’m not her anymore. But without her, I don’t know if I know who I am.”

It’s silent for a minute, the tears drying out on your face as Bradley sits there with you.

“I will never be as good as my Mom.” Bradley whispers. “Probably- never half of what she was. But I- I know what she would say if she were here.”

“Yeah?” You sniffle.

“You are the most incredible woman I have ever known. You may not see it, but Rebel is only a small part of you. You are the most badass, confident, funny, caring, intelligent woman I've ever known. You are selfless and you care so deeply about all of your friends that they become your family. What you do for work - that isn’t who you are. You’re so much more than that.”

“But she was who I was for so long - can I ever be anything more?”

“You already are.” He whispers. The tears start again as he looks at you with an almost proud smile. “I’ve been meaning to bring it up to you for a while, thinking about what you might like to do next. You know, one of the reasons I fell in love with you was because of how much you care for others. And I know- I know what the Navy did to you is never going to go away and I am glad you left it behind, especially because those things- they’re ingrained into the culture of that place. But what if- what if there was a way for you to help others? You always say how there wasn’t anybody to help you, but what if you were there to help the girls still in it?”

“I’m literally a Ken doll and you didn't even ask me to match with you!”

Liam’s hiding his giggles behind his fist as Jake stares in horror at Javy’s Halloween costume.

“Jake-” You say, unable to stop the giggle that escaped at your friend’s reaction to the Halloween costumes you and Javy had picked out after seeing the Barbie movie together back in August.

The blond turns on you. “I am literally Ryan Gosling Ken and yet you guys are going as Ncuti Ken and Emma Barbie?!”

“Don’t even bother, Bagman. I already tried and she said that if I dared to bleach my hair like Ryan’s, she’d divorce me.” Bradley pauses next to Jake. “And I kind of think she’s serious. I’m not sure. I’m not in the business of, what did Liam call it? Fucking around and finding out? So couple costumes are out.”

You give a playful half-shrug. “I mean, the two of you could go as your own pair of Kens. It doesn’t have to be Barbie and Ken. It can just be- the Kens.”

“Bob can be Alan.” Javy supplies, nudging you. “We could do a whole group costume. You can still be Kenough, Jake.”

Bradley lets out a barking laugh that he ends up coughing down at the glare Jake sends his way. Liam ambles over to you, clinging on to the side of your arm. “I’m sensing a this is my mojo dojo casa house! moment is about to come out.”

#bradley fic #rebel fic

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accio-ambition · 7 years ago

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FIREWORKS GO OFF IN THIS CHAPTER. Am I talking about a holiday or am I talking about the relationship? Both? Are these questions enticing enough to make you read on?

As always, a million and seven thank yous to the mods @captainswanbigbang, @sotheylived for betaing this story, @queen-icicle-fandom for the hand-drawn art, and @shipsxahoy for the cover art and a brand new gifset that she just posted today. :)

Summary: Bouncing around with her son for the majority of her life, Emma Swan has told herself she’s happy in the city. It’s where the most camera operating jobs are, and that’s how she makes her money. But when an old friend calls her and asks for her help on a new project in small town Maine, Emma finds herself in a place she’s never been with people she doesn’t know filming a profession she knows nothing about. But when the captain of the ship she’s filming begins taking a keen interest in her and her life, she finds herself wondering whether she might just catch something other than fish. Deadliest Catch AU Rating: M Content warning: Character death, some violent situations

FFnet/AO3/Cover art/Snapshot art

Chapter Six

The week leading up to the Fourth of July is busy. The holiday falls on a Saturday and Jefferson plans to start rolling on Tuesday. And since it’s a trial run - they’ve only been promised a dozen episodes - they run on a skeleton crew: her, David, Jefferson, and a local woman she’s never met named Ruby. She works part time with them, getting B roll on the days they go out to sea, and part time for her grandmother’s diner, the infamous Granny’s.

It’s while Emma’s atop a ladder placing a mounted camera that she meets Ruby for the first time. She’s got her headphones in, blocking out the shouts of the crew she still hardly knows and the click of heels coming her way. She nearly bites off the tip of her tongue – it tends to jut out when she focuses really hard on the task at hand – when the metal shakes beneath her. Dropping the screwdriver in her hand, Emma grasps at the top rung and when the earthquake stops, she whips around to see the culprit.

She’s not met the stark blue eyes she’d thought she would, but instead warm brown ones outlined with a cat’s eye and perfectly coiffed eyebrows.

“What the fuck?!” Emma yells, ripping her earbuds from their place and trying to bring her breathing back to a normal rate.

“Ooh, the mouth of a sailor,” the woman purrs with a smirk. “I like you already.”

As calmly as she can, Emma descends the ladder to give the stranger a piece of her mind. “The fuck are you? Do you understand how much that camera costs? Would you have paid for it if it broke, ‘cause I sure as hell wouldn’t have!”

The woman shakes her head, trying to rid herself of the grin across her lips, only to fail. “Good thing it didn’t break then. Sorry, babe.” She holds up a small brown bag. “Just wanted to see if you were hungry.”

Ever since their meeting, Emma’s noticed there’s a weird sort of chemistry between Ruby and…well, pretty much anyone over the age of 16 she interacts with. She flirts shamelessly with everything legal, sending winks to the Jones brothers and trailing a lingering finger across Scarlet’s chin. It’s not always innocent, but Emma finds herself somewhat attracted to Ruby’s sense of recklessness.

(It might also be the small fact that Emma hasn’t been given a pet name like babe since him and, as off-guard as it caught her, it’s nice to have one again.)

But what draws Emma back to her new friend again and again is her way with her son. Henry’s really taken with her and Ruby’s taken to treating him like a little brother. Every time they visit the diner, Ruby insists on serving them, even if they aren’t in her section or her shift’s just ended. She’ll come along and greet them – a wink or a kiss on the cheek for Emma and a noogie or high five for Henry.

And Emma notices she takes the time to talk to both of them, which settles her motherly instincts. She wants to be a part of both of their lives, not steal her baby boy away from her. She’ll slide in next to Henry after delivering his chocolate milk and her coffee, ask him about his plans for camp and ask her about her plans for her day on the boat.

“Does Jones know you call the Jolly Roger a boat?” Emma chuckles one morning over a glass of orange juice. Her eyes connect with Henry’s, which show his smile even as he takes a bite of his toast.

“No, but it is, and he’s never going to find out.” Ruby glares down at Henry menacingly. “Right?”

Henry shrugs and hides behind his chocolate milk. “I don’t know why you’re looking at me, I’m not gonna say anything,” he grumbles.

She’s nice, Emma finds herself thinking more often than not. Sassy, but stern. She sees that the one afternoon when Ruby’s babysitting for a couple of the neighborhood kids. She slaps them across the back of the head when the boneheads nearly get run over by a passing car. One of the boy blushes furiously, Emma can tell from her spot across the street, but then Ruby pulls him in for the sidehug and everything seems peachy between them.

Once school starts up and Mary Margaret’s busy being a teacher instead of a camp counselor, maybe Emma will ask the waitress to watch Henry after school.

If only things were working as well on the decks of the Jolly Roger as they were on the streets of Storybrooke. Once they’ve mounted the cameras in their assigned places on their assigned ships – a task that takes far longer than it should, in her humble opinion, the last ones being installed the morning of the Fourth – Emma trades places with David to check the sturdiness and clarity on the Jewel. It’s customary, something they even used to do back at school: check each other’s work, offer suggestions, and work together to get to the best ultimate end.

(It’s not cheating if they did their own base work, or at least that’s the lie they told themselves.)

She’s precariously balanced on the top step of the ladder, reaching for a camera pointed outwards instead of downwards, when a low timbre voice speaks from behind her. She jumps, making a tinny noise from the contraption beneath her feet.

“Christ almighty,” she whispers, catching herself.

“Sorry, lass,” Liam apologizes, gently righting her and resting a foot on the bottom rung. “I didn’t mean to frighten you too badly.”

Emma chuckles to cover up how surprised she was by the elder Jones’ appearance. “No, it’s fine. I’ll just resign myself to not seeing my son married off because you took a decade off my life,” she quips.

That earns her a scoff and a shake of Liam’s head. “Now, Emma, there’s no need to be dramatic.” Emma rolls her eyes and is about to respond, but he holds up a finger to keep her from speaking. “I was wondering if you would like to come watch the fireworks on the Jewel.”

“Oh,” she hesitates, looking down. “I mean, I would love to, but-”

“Your boy can come,” he interrupts her again. Raising her eyes a tad, Emma watches Liam bend down to catch her sight. “You know, you don’t have to keep him locked away, Emma. We all understand: you’re a single mother and you want to keep your private life private.” She doesn’t say anything because that’s not exactly false, but it’s not the exact truth either.

Liam sighs. His hand slaps on the metal of the ladder, sending vibrations of sound and sensations up her legs to her arms resting on the top rung. “I don’t know if Killian’s told you or given you the idea, but we’re all family here. We spend holidays together and go out to the pub after rough days.” Leaning forward, Liam says, “One day, you’ll need someone to lean on. And when that day comes, I want you to know that your shoulders can relax around us.”

Pushing off the ladder and waving her down, he adds, “And if these pricks won’t calm you down, then I will,” with a gentle smile.

Emma reaches the solid deck and rests her hands akimbo on her hips. “You know, you’re a lot nicer than your brother,” she tells him, squinting to see his face around the bright sunlight.

“He’s really a good man,” Liam says around a chuckle. “His heart is always in the right place. Or at least close enough to it.” He bends slightly forward, making his facial features a bit more visible. He’s got his brow cocked, which she’s swiftly learning is the Jones family sign for impending stupidity. “You should give him a chance.”

“Oh, that’s rich.” She can’t help her response. It’s textbook dickhead: send in the wingman to talk up the targeter. “So he’s sending his big brother in with a solid word.” Emma scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Nice.”

“No, he hasn’t said a word to me.” That surprises her, to say the least. Even from the few interactions she’s caught between the brothers, she wouldn’t put it past Liam to be talking his little brother up. Well, she would put it past Liam to actually follow through with it, but she wouldn’t put it past Jones to ask for his older brother’s assistance.

Liam points an accusatory finger at her, making her go cross-eyed. “But I know him,” he continues. “I’ve seen when he’s interested in a woman.” With a satisfactory grin, he brings his hand down and crosses his arms across his chest proudly. “And he’s got all the tell-tale signs.”

Emma shrugs like his words don’t spark a little something within her. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t really date.”

“Henry?” he asks shortly.

“Mhmm,” she hums.

“Surely you’ve dated in the past decade.”

She shrugs again, walking down the stairs to the main deck, expecting Liam to follow. From the footsteps clunking behind her, she isn’t wrong. “It’s been hard, but there has been the odd occasion where I’ve managed a long enough break from parenting,” she explains. But then she twirls around, grimacing at him and furrowing her brows. “Why are we even talking about my sex life?”

A smug smile spreads across his face. “Because, as an older brother, I love to make people uncomfortable.”

She scoffs out, “That’s obvious.”

But, regardless of the awkwardness he might cause her, Emma finds herself taking him up on his offer a few hours later. She and Henry walk down the docks maybe an hour before sunset, only aware of where they’re going from the loud voices and boisterous music coming from the only lit vessel in the harbor. Coming aboard, Emma is immediately whisked off by Robin to be introduced to his wife and son. When she looks over her shoulder, she catches Ruby waving at her, a friendly arm slung around Henry, gently leading him toward the group of kids with sparklers.

For the first time since moving to Storybrooke, she’s actually having fun. Both the Jewel and Jolly Roger crews are there, plus many townsfolk she hasn’t ever seen. She should’ve expected that, what with the pure amount of people on the deck at once, but it still surprises her. Robin’s wife Regina is a tad cold, but when she sees Emma interact with their son Roland, her icy heart seems to melt. Ruby’s pulling her over every couple of minutes to throw back a shot –

“Ruby, I’ve got Henry.”

“You’re walking home, you’ll be fine. If you forget him, someone’ll bring him home.”

“Great, there goes my mother of the year award.”

– at the makeshift bar in the galley. And it’s all really, really fun.

It’s late in the night, way past Henry’s bedtime slightly-more-than-tipsy Emma idly realizes, when the fireworks shake her heart and her eardrums, that she realizes the magnitude of tonight. It’s the first time in a long time that Emma’s celebrated a holiday with someone other than Henry. And she loves her son more than anything in the world, but being able to casually drink a beer with Mary Margaret and discuss the state of the Patriots’ upcoming season with Robin and David makes her feel like the adult she really is.

“What do you think?” She drags her eyes away from the bright lights in the sky long enough to find the bright blue eyes of the younger Jones brother. “How does the small Maine town’s display compare to the big city’s?”

She shrugs. “I wouldn’t know. We didn’t see fireworks last year.” But she furrows her eyebrows, because that doesn’t sound right. The fireworks got rained out last year, didn’t they? Or was that the year before and last year was the summer the arches of her feet sweated profusely? She shakes her head and looks back at him. “I don’t really remember.”

Tilting his head to the side, Jones grins. “Still.” He pauses, just lets the quiet grow between them, only once interrupted by an explosion. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, Swan?” he asks quietly.

She smiles and sends him a wink before looking back at the sky. “None of your damn business, Jones.”

Much like the rest of her evening, her remaining two days of freedom go by quickly. Naturally, she spends every waking hour with Henry. Knowing the grueling and unpredictable schedule she’ll be forced to adhere to for the next couple of months, she wants to stock up on some good quality mother/son bonding time while she can. They sleep in late on Sunday and make a mess of their new kitchen cooking an unnecessarily large brunch. Emma pulls him out of camp on Monday and they go to the pool, unpack a little more, and fall asleep on the floor of the living room in a wonky little blanket fort.

It’s way too late – just after midnight, if her blurry eyesight is to be trusted – when she wakes up and forces Henry into his own bed. Once he flops on his mattress all caddywhompus, she falls gracelessly into her own bed without brushing her teeth and sinks back into unconsciousness.

Emma wakes up the morning filming is supposed to start and finds it entirely too difficult to get out of bed. After waking up halfway through the night and the gray, rainy morning, texting Henry and beckoning him to come and hang out in her big bed sounds like the best idea in the world. It’s been a while since she pulled the mom card and pulled her son into her arms and forced him to snuggle with her.

Alas, she tears herself from the warmth of her blankets and into the bathroom. She showers, washing the sleep from the corner of her eyes and the kink in her back from sleeping on the floor. She dresses comfortably and as water repellently as her current wardrobe allows.

(She really hopes she doesn’t get soaked. She’d rather not get wet at all, but working on a boat on a rainy day, she sees little chance in that all happening.)

Peeking into Henry’s room, she finds him still fast asleep. It’s early, he doesn’t need to be at camp for another hour and a half at least, so she lets him be. As quietly as she can, Emma opens the door, walks in, and presses her lips to his cheek, the only part of his face not covered by blankets or pillow.

He hums and mumbles, “Be careful, Mom.”

Chuckling, she reassures him. “I will, kid.” Pressing another kiss to his cheek, she can’t help the grin that spreads across her face. “I love you. Have a good day.”

He hums again and shifts in bed, moving so only his one leg hangs dangerously (and certainly uncomfortably) off the edge of the mattress instead of both his feet. She hears his breath even out as he falls back asleep before she’s even left the room.

Whipping her phone from her back pocket, Emma texts Mary Margaret as she walks down the stairs, asking her to get Henry up and to camp on time. She gets a way too perky response as she chokes down her coffee, assuring her not to worry, and then she’s tying her shoes, checking her camera gear, and heading down to the docks.

The rain has let up, thankfully, since she woke up, so the short drive down to the water isn’t as painful and treacherous as she thought it was going to be. Originally, Emma had planned on arriving just in time for them to ship off for the day, but it seems the weather and her quicker-than-expected drive gets her to the Jolly Roger while the crew is still bringing aboard supplies.

She unloads her equipment from the trunk of her Bug, hitching the stabilizer to her body but carrying the camera in her hand until she’s on the boat. Once she figures her way back to the Jolly Roger, Scarlet greets her on the slats of wooden dock, carrying a coil of rope up to the deck in front of her.

“Are you filming yet, luv?” he asks with some effort over his shoulder.

“No,” she says as he slams the rope down next to a barrel.

Scarlet rolls his shoulders back and stretches. “Good, make sure you get ma good side.”

“Sorry to say, mate, you won’t be making it on the show then.” Jones happily steps up from the galley, slapping his friend on the shoulder in good humor. Scarlet groans and hits him back, then goes beneath deck, mumbling something or other.

Turning to her with a bright smile, Jones asks, “So, Swan. Ready for an adventure?”

Emma shrugs, quite the endeavor with sheer poundage of equipment hanging off of her. “I’m ready for whatever today brings, I suppose.”

He claps her on the back, too, almost throwing her off balance and causing her to faceplant on the - hopefully clean - deck. “That’s the spirit,” he commends her. He leans closer to her, his lips hovering just above her ear. “Just remember: the goal is to come home. All of us. So if the lads yell at you to move, please move, love.”

Solemnly, she nods. “I’ll do my best.”

With a single nod, Jones grins at her again and begins the ascent to his post. “We’re heading out, boys!” he yells. “To your stations!”

“Guess that means we’re starting,” Emma mumbles to herself. “A little more warning would’ve been nice, but noooo.” Flicking the switches on her equipment – mics, stabilizers, backup battery pack – she hefts the camera onto her shoulder and braces herself. “Alright, let’s do this thing.”

#csbb #captain swan big bang #cs ff #ouat #ditlot #my words #storytime #BANTER AND BOOZE AND BONDING #thats what the title of this chapter would be if i was giving chapters names #but im not because im lazy #but yeah #the Liam/Emma part was one of my favorite things to write #and then Will's little primping thing #I liked that too

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veryverynotgoodwrites · 3 years ago

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Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV), A Discovery of Witches (TV) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan, Captain Hook | Killian Jones & Emma Swan, Prince Charming | David Nolan/Snow White | Mary Margaret Blanchard, Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Maleficent Characters: Captain Hook | Killian Jones, Emma Swan, Snow White | Mary Margaret Blanchard, Prince Charming | David Nolan, Evil Queen | Regina Mills, Maleficent (Once Upon a Time), Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Knave of Hearts | Will Scarlet, Wicked Witch of the West | Zelena, Pinocchio | August Booth, Liam Jones (Once Upon a Time), Arthur (Once Upon a Time), Henry Mills (Once Upon a Time), The Apprentice (Once Upon a Time), Mad Hatter | Jefferson, Robin Hood (Once Upon a Time), Red Riding Hood | Ruby, Alice Jones | Tilly, Belle (Once Upon a Time) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions Summary:

“Once the world was full of wonders, but it belongs to humans now. We creatures have all but disappeared. Daemons, vampires, and witches - all hiding in plain sight, ill at ease even with each other. But, as my father used to say, in every ending...there is a new beginning.”

A Captain Swan AU.

*I do not own any of these characters from OUAT, nor any part of A Discovery of Witches. Some dialogue and events are taken from both OUAT and ADOW to create this story, and are products of their original writers. This is just a fun CS au for your reading pleasure.

Hello everyone! Bet you thought I forgot all about this fic after all this time, huh? ;)

Well, never fear! I may not have a schedule, but I have a VISION, and it must be completed, no matter how long it takes! Anyone who has read Perilous Harbor since the beginning knows how long it sometimes takes me to update (@ that six month break I took after I moved to Europe lol), but I promise there's always one coming!

I spent two months dreading writing this chapter despite knowing it would be so much fun, but when I actually sat down and started, I had it finished within six hours. Lol.

Anywho! On to business! I had so much fun writing your first look at our vampire Killian! Truth be told, vampires really aren't my thing, but I love this story and I love who Killian is in this tale, and I think we will have so much fun with him! I also hope everyone will enjoy the three new characters introduced in this chapter!

I want to give a huge shoutout to @ultraluckycatnd for being my incredible beta and for being so understanding about my creative break since July! And to @mariakov81 for the absolutely incredible artwork she has created for this story! I'm so in awe of your talent and the fact that you're so patient with me and my erratic writing pattern. I'm so happy this event brought us together!

As always, a huge, huge, HUGE thank you to all of my friends over at the CSMM Discord. I love all of you, and you keep me going, whether that's by encouraging me, flailing with me, or giving me so much to read that I can't possibly ever catch up with my list.

I also want to thank the team at @cssns for setting me up with an absolute dream team, and I'm so happy I got to participate in this event <3

As a side note, this work is also now listed under the Captain Swan Netflix and Chill collection in addition to the CSSNS collection! You can click on both the links to these collections to find some incredible stories by some of my favorite people!

If you would like to be added to my tags list, please let me know!

@teamhook @hollyethecurious @the-darkdragonfly @tiganasummertree @jrob64 @justanother-unluckysoul @ultraluckycatnd @winterbaby89 @snowbellewells @xarandomdreamx @klynn-stormz @omninerdgirl @kmomof4

#blood and magic #blood & magic #cs au #captain swan #fic #alternate universe #au #adow au #a discovery of witches #killian jones #emma swan #other characters as well lol #veryverynotgoodwrites #cssns #cssns21 #cssns 2021 #captain swan supernatural summer #captain swan netflix and chill #csn&c

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hookedonapirate · 3 years ago

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Through the Rising Tide

Thank you so much for the beautiful graphic @itsfabianadocarmo! See this other beautiful, heartbreaking graphic by @wefoundloveunderthelight here. Thanks so much! Summary: The Jones brothers are polar opposites. Liam's the safe and honorable one, straight-laced and straight as an arrow. The good son. Killian's the dangerous one, the bad boy with tats, leather jackets, a motorcycle and a questionable past. The only things they have in common are panty-melting sea-blue eyes, the flat they share in Storybrooke and a rare blood type. Oh, and apparently their taste in women. Or rather, one woman. Feisty. Blonde. Gorgeous. Green-eyed Goddess. Killian saw her first, but she chose his brother—the nice guy over the playboy. And even though she’s dating his brother, it doesn't make him want her any less. If that's not bad enough, she moves in with them and he has to pretend he's not completely in love with her. His life could not get any worse… Until Liam dies in a tragic motorcycle accident. Leaving each of them with one half of a broken heart. Now Killian and Emma are left helping each other pick up the pieces. Just as they're beginning to learn how to live in their new reality, another riptide pulls them further into the deep end when she finds out she's pregnant with Liam's baby. Notes: Okay, so I've been debating with myself about what happens in this chapter since I started writing this story, because I didn't want Killian to seem like an asshole and like he's just trying to get out of the situation. After doing some research, I think this solution is the best route to take to accomplish that. So please don't come after me lol.

Thank you @ultraluckycatnd for looking it over! This story was inspired by Baby Mine by Kennedy Fox, and I loved the book so much and thought it was very much underrated. I’ve wanted to write a fic like this for a long time now because it’s one of my favorite tropes, but after I read that book, I just had to write my own take. The title comes from the lyrics of the song, Lay By Me by Ruben. The particular line goes like this: "I hope you know through the rising tide That I'll be here and you can lay by my side" If you've never heard it, I recommend giving it a listen. It's an amazing song and very fitting for this story. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VFJbLzEtoZw P.S. In case you're unable to read the shoulder tattoo in the picture above and are wondering what it says: "There is no happiness without tears No life without death And no true love without heartbreak" Rated: Explicit for smut (including sexual fantasies, masturbation, implied and detailed sex, etc.) and language (lots of F-bombs). Also available on: AO3 FF.N Catch up: Ch 1 // Ch 2 // Ch 3 // Ch 4 // Ch 5 // Ch 6 // Ch 7 // Ch 8 // Ch 9

Chapter 10

“I’m pregnant.”

Emma’s heart drops into her stomach when she hears the two words that seem to shatter her soul. She knows all too well that two simple words can change a life forever. The most traumatizing moments in her life started with two words.

I’m sorry.

You’re fired.

We’re over.

I cheated.

Marry me.

Liam’s dead.

And now, I’m pregnant.

She knows she has no right to be upset, or hurt, even; she keeps telling herself Killian’s not hers, but a huge part of her wishes he were never with this dreadful woman. And it has nothing to do with jealousy. She just thinks Killian deserves much better than this bitch. Emma may not have always felt this way about him, but she can honestly say he’s not the same man she met a year and a half ago.

“Um…” Killian scratches behind his ear, not exactly sure what to say to Milah. “Congratulations?”

Emma has the urge to laugh but suppresses it. This isn’t something to joke about. It’s certainly not something Milah finds the least bit humorous. Which is understandable.

She’s carrying his baby.

Kilian’s going to be a father.

No, Killian is a father.

The thought makes Emma feel numb inside.

Milah’s jaw is on the floor as she gapes at Killian and plants her hands on her hips. “Congratulations? That’s all you have to say?”

Killian looks at Emma in sheer puzzlement. But she doesn’t know exactly how to feel, other than disappointment and devastation, so she just looks at him in shock. He reverts his attention to Milah and shrugs. “What do you want me to say?”

Milah drops her hands to her sides and sighs dramatically. “Oh, I don’t know. What every father-to-be would say. Like for starters, maybe that you’re ecstatic or that this is the happiest day of your life.”

He furrows his brows, the lines on his forehead deepening. “Why would it be the happiest day of my life?”

It takes everything inside Emma to not give in to the tickle in her throat and dissolve into laughter.

Milah’s eyes almost pop out of her head. “You’re joking, right?”

He doesn’t even crack a smile. “Why would I be joking?”

Growing impatient, she sighs again and rolls her eyes. “Look, I don’t have time for games. I’m tired and cranky and hormonal and I don’t need smart-ass Jones right now. I need to know you’re in this.” She looks at Emma, flashing a deadly scowl and adds, “Just you and me and our baby.”

Killian freezes, his confusion quickly transforming into something else, his face paling and his mouth falling open in shock.

Does he not think the baby is his?

“Wait, what do you mean, our baby?”

Milah laughs hysterically, like Killian just told her the funniest thing in the world. “Wow, I hope you’re just playing dumb because I really don’t have the patience for this right now.”

“But that’s not possible,” he says, his words cracked as he scratches behind his ear. “I...I used protection.”

Milah becomes serious again, her eyes narrowing. “Wait, you’re not messing with me, are you?” She places her hand on her belly. “You really don’t think this is our baby?”

“No, I don’t,” Killian answers matter-of-factly. “I used a condom,” he says again.

Milah raises her voice, throwing the very last shred of patience out the window. “Are you an idiot?! Condoms aren’t one hundred percent effective!”

“I know that,” he says through gritted teeth. “But I checked for leakage after I pulled out.”

“Okay,” Emma squeaks, her voice higher pitched than intended. She feels very awkward listening to this conversation. “Maybe I should just go to my room so you two can talk.” They clearly have some things to discuss.

“That’s a fantastic idea,” Milah remarks in a cynical tone as she glares at Killian.

“And maybe you should put some pants on. This is definitely a pants-on conversation,” Emma laughs.

His cheeks and ears redden as he grabs her hand. “True, but you don’t have to go,” he murmurs.

A slight smile curves across her lips, her heart fluttering as she gives him a small squeeze.

“What the actual fuck, Killian? Why are you doing this?” Milah demands, staring at their joined hands.

His brows furrow in confusion as he releases Emma’s hand. “Doing what?”

“Acting like you’re not the father and then looking at another woman like you look at Emma?”

Emma’s heart skips at Milah’s comment. And she’s right; he looks at her like she’s the most precious thing he’s ever seen. She feels special under his gaze. Desirable, even. And that’s saying something, considering she’s five months pregnant and has never felt so unattractive or fat in her whole goddamn life. Except when Killian looks at her, of course.

“I’m the mother of your child, yet you don’t seem excited or happy, and instead you’re arguing with me about a stupid condom!”

“Milah, I’m telling you, that baby’s not mine.”

“As much as I hate to admit this, but Milah’s right—contraceptives aren’t always effective,” Emma points out, thinking back to when she and Liam were together. “I took birth control religiously until Liam died and I still got knocked up.”

“Okay, but how do you know for sure?” Killian challenges Milah. “Were you with anyone else before or after we…”

“Of course not!” she replies defensively.

But Emma can tell she’s lying because Milah’s looking away and running her hand through her hair like she’s nervous.

“Okay, when was your conception date?”

Milah scratches her head. “Um...November...November nineteenth,” she stammers, obviously trying to remember what day she was with Killian, rather than reiterating what date her doctor would’ve told her based on her menstrual cycle. But the nineteenth was not when she was with Killian, and Emma knows this because the day Milah was with Killian was two days later—the same day Liam died. But again, it could be Milah’s estimated date of conception. Unless she’s lying completely to make Killian think he’s the father. “Look, Killian, I know we both said we weren’t looking for a relationship, but…” She reaches out, taking Killian’s hand in hers. “We can do this. I know we can. You don’t have to be scared.”

He pulls his hand away, his face hard as he stares at her. “Milah, why do you think this baby is mine?”

She furrows her brows in confusion. “What reason would I have for lying to you?”

“Because, perhaps the baby is Gold’s, and you don’t want him to be a part of your life or the baby’s...and you don’t want to do this alone. So pretending I’m the father might seem like the perfect solution.”

“I’m not pretending, Killian. You are the father! So stop trying to excuse yourself from doing the responsible thing and accept your fatherly duties!”

“It’s not an excuse,” he mutters through gritted teeth. “I’ve promised Emma I would help raise her baby. The baby’s not even mine and I’ve accepted the responsibilities of raising my niece or nephew.”

“Yet you can’t accept the responsibility of raising your own child! This is absurd! You’re abandoning your own family for another child who’s not even yours!”

“Milah, do you really think I would turn my back if there was even the slightest chance that baby was mine? If I were the father, I’d accept my responsibilities. I’d take you to the doctor’s appointments and I’d share custody and help out financially, but I’m not the father. And you and I aren’t a family.”

Milah screams in frustration. “If you think you can get out of this by simply paying child support, you’re dead wrong!”

“That’s not what I’m saying. I’d be in the child’s life if I were the father.”

“If? I just said you are the father, Killian.”

He plants his hands on his hips and sighs. “Okay, if you’re so sure, then you should have no problem with a paternity test when the baby is born.”

This seems to make Milah even angrier. “If that’s what it takes for you to want to be a father, then fine! And when it turns out you’re the father, you’re going to feel like shit for wanting to abandon your own child!”

Emma can see Killian clenching his jaw as he glares at Milah.

“And you’ll feel like shit for trying to guilt a man into taking over the responsibility of someone else’s child when it turns out I’m not the father.”

Milah huffs and shoots daggers at Emma. “You should be ashamed of yourself for stealing a father away from his own child and the mother of the child.”

Emma can actually see the anger swarming through Killian, his eyes darkening.

“Emma’s not making me do anything. She lives here, and I want her here. She’s the mother of my dead brother’s baby. My niece or nephew. And I would never turn my back on them. So, you can either accept that or don’t, because I don’t really give a fuck. Now please get the fuck out and don’t show up here unannounced ever again.”

Milah is enraged but doesn’t argue and instead spins around on her heels and dashes out the door. “This isn’t over Killian Jones! You won’t be able to deny your child forever!”

Killian responds by flinging the door behind her, letting it slam shut with a loud thud.

~*~

He’s not sure he’s ever been so pissed in his life. He can’t believe Milah just showed up expecting him to fall to his knees and pretend like they were going to be a happy family. Even if he weren’t already committed to Emma and her baby, he wouldn’t just simply bend to Milah’s will. He kind of feels like an arsehole for flat-out denying the child is his, though. Situations like this are exactly why he had the procedure. It’s also why he uses condoms. But Milah is relentless. He could’ve easily told her it’s impossible for her to have his child, but if, by some minuscule chance, he is the father, he’ll feel like an arsehole. Plus, she probably wouldn’t believe him if he told her, anyway. He just hopes Milah doesn’t try to screw up what he has with Emma.

He can tell Emma’s not too happy about it all because as soon as Milah left, Emma went to the kitchen and started banging pots and pans around, not even saying one word to him.

“Emma? You alright?” he asks in concern as he approaches her cautiously.

She’s aggressively chopping vegetables now, and he’s not sure it’s a good idea to be around an angry pregnant woman with a knife in her hand.

“Can we talk?”

She throws some celery in a bowl and starts chopping some carrots. “What’s there to talk about?” she finally says, still focused on her task.

“How about Milah showing up and announcing she’s pregnant. You’re obviously upset.”

“I’m not upset,” she claims, still not even bothering to look up at him. “You’re not mine, Killian. You’re free to do as you wish, be with who you wish. So what right do I have to be mad?”

He is hers, though. He has been since the moment he laid eyes on her a year and a half ago. If only he could tell her that. “Emma, please...just...can we talk about this?”

She finally stops chopping and sets down the knife with a heavy sigh, turning around to look at him. Her eyes are shining with tears, and it makes his heart crack. “Killian, I don’t want to be the reason you’re not in your child’s life. I don’t know if Liam ever told you, but David’s family adopted me when I was a baby. I never got to know my biological mother or father. And I don’t want your kid to grow up not knowing you because of me.”

“Emma…” His heart clenches at her words. Liam did tell him she was adopted, and that David and his parents always treated her like family. He steps up to her, cupping her cheeks in his hands. Her stunning green eyes meet his blue ones, taking his breath away. “Believe me when I tell you...I’m not the father.”

“But how can you be so sure? A man can get a woman pregnant if the condom breaks, Killian.”

“Aye, but a man can’t get a woman pregnant if he can’t give her his sperm. At least not the natural way.”

Emma jerks her head back, completely blindsided. “What do you mean?” She searches his face for a moment and answers her own question. “You had a vasectomy?”

He nods. “Aye. A couple years ago.”

She steps out of his space to process this, confusion written all over her face…and perhaps disappointment? “But...why...why do you use condoms then?”

“Because, like any birth control, it’s not one hundred percent effective. Plus, I don’t really like to tell people my personal business. I always take precautions even though I had the procedure done. And if I ever felt like the woman should know, like if I were in a relationship or planned to be in one, then of course I would tell them.”

“So, you can never have children? Like ever?”

“Actually, I can. But when and if I choose to. A vasectomy is reversible as long as I don’t wait too long after having the vasectomy. After ten years, a reversal is less likely to be effective.”

“How did I never know this?” she asks, still a little shocked.

He shrugs. “Didn’t think it was necessary to tell anyone. I never even told Liam because I knew he would try to talk me out of it. But I didn’t do it because I’m opposed to having kids, I did it so I didn’t accidentally get someone pregnant. Why change a woman’s life forever after one night of meaningless sex if I don’t have to?”

She snorts, tossing the carrots into a bowl. “Killian Jones is admitting to giving women a forgettable night in the sack and orgasms that aren’t life-changing? Wow, you really have changed,” she teases, peeling and chopping up an onion.

“Hey, I said meaningless, not forgettable.” He smirks and closes the distance between them again, his face only a few inches from hers when she pauses from her task and looks up at him. “Believe me, every orgasm I give is life changing.”

Her breath hitches, and she swallows hard, her eyes locked with his. The air is thick around them, and he can’t help but think about their kiss earlier. He’s still wearing a towel, so it’s probably easy for her to notice he has an erection right now.

He shakes away the thoughts and steps back so he can breathe again and clear his throat. “But life changing doesn’t have to mean giving someone a baby they didn’t ask for or putting them in a position where they have to decide whether to keep the baby. Why put that kind of burden on a woman when I don’t have to? Turns out I can be responsible when I want to be,” he chuckles.

She gives him a small smile. “So, do you want to have kids someday? With the right person, I mean?” she asks curiously.

He nods. “I hope to. The reversal is much more expensive and complicated than the vasectomy itself, but as long as it’s what we both want and after we both have successful examinations to make sure there are no fertility issues, then yes, I’ll have the procedure reversed. But I can promise you, Milah is not that person. I’ll still take the paternity test just to prove it to her, but I know that baby isn’t mine. I think she went back to her ex-husband and didn’t expect to get pregnant after one night.”

“Wow, she has some nerve trying to put the responsibility on you when you’re not even the father.”

“She probably doesn’t realize that, though. She probably actually does think I could be.”

Emma rolls her eyes. “Please, she was lying. I could tell. She knows you’re not the father.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter, because I’m not.”

She arches a brow. “So, why not just tell her you got the vasectomy?”

He cups the back of his neck as he answers her question in the best way he possibly can. It’s not really a conversation he envisioned having with anyone when he had the procedure. He especially never planned on having this discussion with Emma. “She probably wouldn’t believe me if I told her and would probably think I’m just trying to free myself of any obligations or responsibilities. The only way to really prove I had a vasectomy is to have a semen analysis done. Which would show that there is no sperm present in my semen. Without sperm, I can’t get a woman pregnant. But I figure proving to her I’m not the biological father via a paternity test is the only way she’s going to accept it.”

Emma nods in understanding. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I guess I don’t blame her.”

Killian snaps his eyes to hers, surprised she would say that. He also wonders why she would say that.

“If it were me and I thought there was a chance you could be the father of my child instead of my asshole of an ex, I would do everything to prove it, too. Like if Neal had gotten me pregnant before we broke up and then I did end up sleeping with you that night instead of running into Liam, I’d want you to be the father, not him.”

Killian’s cheeks heat up as he flashes a smug grin. “So, you’re saying I’m good daddy material?”

She laughs and gently pats her belly. “Well, I hope so, seeing as we’re going to be raising this baby together.”

He smiles and swipes some stray hairs from her face. “That’s right. We’ll be like family.”

She places her hands on his chest, and he’s hoping she can’t feel his heart beating erratically under her palms. “We are family. Right?”

His heart flutters at her words, and a big smile overtakes his face. “Of course we are.” He stares at her, wanting so badly to grab and kiss her again.

And just when he thinks she might beat him to it, she breaks the trance, her eyes widening as she looks over his shoulder. She hurries to the stove, removing the pot before the water boils over. “Whew, that was a close one.” She sets the pot down and returns to the vegetables she chopped, carefully pouring them into the water. “So, what should I start calling you now? Big Daddy?”

He chuckles and comes up behind her, placing his hand on her shoulder and gently squeezing. “What should I call you? Baby Mama?”

“Oooh, that feels good,” she breathes, tipping her head back, her body melting under his touch.

He smirks and puts his other hand on her opposite shoulder, massaging her gently.

“You can call me whatever you want while you’re doing that.”

“Don’t give me any ideas, love.” This probably isn’t the best idea either but giving Emma even the smallest of pleasures has become his primary goal in life. He’d even reverse the vasectomy to give her a baby if that’s what she wanted. He’d happily do anything for this woman. Which is extremely dangerous. But he doesn’t care. As long as she and the little duckling are happy, that’s all he cares about. And not Milah, or anyone else can change that.

“Oh God, that feels incredible.” She’s making these noises that sound too much like moans as she practically goes limp in his hands.

Fuck.

This was definitely not a good idea.

Rubbing her shoulders and drawing out these wonderful, spine-tingling moans is making him unbearably hard. And if he keeps this up, he’s going to have to take another shower, only this time it’s going to be a long, hot shower and he’s going to pump himself furiously until he comes.

“Thank you, Killian. My shoulders and back have been killing me. Actually, my everything has been killing me,” she laughs.

“Of course, love.” He removes his hands and leans in to kiss her cheek. He wants to tell her he’d be glad to address everything else that’s sore, but he knows that’s a terrible idea. He’s afraid he’d start rubbing other parts of her, and he’s already crossed a line with her. Well, he’s crossed several lines with her already; he doesn’t need to add to the list.

When he backs away, he hadn’t realized how close he was to Emma; he’d been pressed up against her backside, so when he steps back, the towel slips off him and falls to the floor.

She turns around, her eyes falling to his manhood, her face flushing. She claps a hand over her mouth and laughs into her palm.

He quickly bends down to pick up the towel and cocks a brow at her as he secures the towel around his waist. “Love, laughing at a man with his pants down isn’t good for his ego,” he teases.

“I’m sorry, it’s just...every time I turn around your pants are down...literally.” She’s laughing so hard now, she’s almost in tears.

“Har har,” he says sarcastically, his cheeks fuming. “You know, one of these days a tit for tat will be in order.”

“Oh believe me, after I have this baby, I’m sure you’re gonna see a whole lot of my tits while I’m breastfeeding.”

“Well, in that case, you’re getting a lot more tat,” he says, throwing her a wink.

She laughs and rolls her eyes. “Go put some clothes on, Big Daddy.”

“Yes, Baby Mama.”

~*~

“So what was that all about, yesterday?” Mary Margaret asks curiously, sipping her soda through a straw. “You and Killian just go around kissing each other now?” she teases with a cheeky grin.

Emma laughs. “No. Killian asked for my help with Tina when he couldn’t get rid of her, so I pretended to be his fiancé.” She bites into her grilled cheese sandwich and sets it down, using her other hand to toy with the engagement ring hanging from her neck. She feels guilty for using the ring Liam gave her to lie to a stranger and tell her she’s marrying Killian.

“Awe, you’re such a good friend,” Ruby gushes with a big smile, taking a good-sized bite of her burger. “Now, let me ask the most important question,” she mumbles with food in her mouth, “why have you and Big Daddy not knocked boots yet?”

Emma’s cheeks flame as she buries her face in her hands. “God, I never should’ve mentioned that to you guys,” she grumbles into her palms.

“Mention what? The fact you saw his hot, naked dick twice or that you call him Big Daddy?” Ruby singsongs.

“Ugh, both.”

When Emma met Ruby and Mary Margaret here at Granny’s Diner for lunch, since Ruby has the afternoon off from the bar, she had originally planned on telling them about Milah, but surprise, surprise, they already knew. According to Mary Margaret, word on the street is Milah’s pregnant with Killian’s baby and he wants nothing to do with her.

Apparently, Milah made a snarky comment on the photo Mary Margaret posted yesterday. Emma told them half of the rumor was true, but she didn’t tell them Killian had a vasectomy, only that he’s going to take a paternity test. Ruby and Mary Margaret were only surprised this is the first time one of his many conquests got impregnated, or at least came forward about it. Emma refrained from responding to that. Killian’s secret is not hers to tell.

Ruby suggested he and Milah bring it to Maury, but only because she desperately wants to see the look on Milah’s face when she finds out Killian’s not the father. Because they all know it’s very much possible she went back to her husband, even for just a postmarital hookup.

After filling them in on more details about the confrontation with Milah last night, Emma made the mistake of launching into how the rest of the evening went, including how she and Killian gave each other nicknames and how his towel fell to the floor. She didn’t dare mention the hot and heavy kiss that took place in the kitchen before Milah showed up, though. Emma knows she would never hear the end of it if she had mentioned it.

“Would you stop denying you’re head over heels for Big Daddy, already? Do you know how many women would kill to be in your position right now?” Ruby dips a fry in ketchup and shakes her head in disapproval, almost personally offended by Emma’s denial of having any feelings for him. “In fact, women have actually tried murdering each other over that man.” She shoves the fry into her mouth and then licks the ketchup off her fingers as she chews.

Emma lifts her brows in intrigue as she picks up her sandwich again. “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.” She laughs and bites into her grilled cheese.

“Yeah, jealous bitches are ruthless. A couple years ago, when Killian worked at the bar, some woman was hitting on him when another woman he slept with the night before entered the bar. She witnessed the first woman’s hands all over him and actually marched up to the bar counter and pulled her off him. Then they had a screaming match right there in the middle of the bar, and the bitch who slept with him pulled out a knife and tried stabbing the other chick.”

Emma’s eyes blow wide. “Are you serious?”

Ruby nods. “Yep, I even captured the whole thing on camera and posted it on Facebook. The video went viral.”

“Okay, I have to watch this.” Emma sets her sandwich down and wipes her hands with a napkin as Ruby pulls out her phone, searching for the video. “Where was Liam at the time?”

“He was there, too. Here, you’ll see.” Ruby hands Emma the phone.

She plays the video, both amused and curious as she watches two women—a brunette and a redhead—screaming at each other and calling each other all kinds of colorful names.

The redhead shoved the brunette to the floor, causing other bar patrons to gasp. Completely enraged, the brunette stood up, pulled out the knife and started threatening the other woman with it.

“I will cut you, bitch!”

Emma can’t believe her eyes. It’s like something from the Jerry Springer show.

Cool and collected, Liam intervened, politely asking the brunette to put down the knife. As soon as she did, Liam had the bouncer escort them both out the door, and they were still screaming at each other as they left.

At that point, Emma’s only focused on Liam, who was watching them leave and shaking his head as he turned around and told Ruby to stop recording. Emma tears up from hearing his voice. That British accent and the way his voice always seemed to soothe her. He was so calm yet commanding in just about any situation—always had been.

Liam stepped up to the camera, planting one hand on his hip, pointing a finger at the screen with his other hand and giving Ruby a stern look. “Rubes, you better not post that on Facebook.”

Emma places a hand on her belly, a tear rolling down her cheek as she whispers to her unborn child, “That’s your daddy. Isn’t he handsome?” This happened before they met, but he was just as handsome as she remembers. And watching him makes her want to reach out and touch him. But the fact that she can't makes her heart clench painfully in her chest.

“Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry,” Mary Margaret says to Emma in a soothing tone, pulling Emma’s attention from the video. “I’m so sorry you have to raise your baby without him.”

The screen flipped around, showing a closeup of Ruby grinning from ear to ear. “Oh, I definitely am,” she whispered to the camera.

Emma wipes away her tears as she hands the phone back to Ruby. “At least I have Killian. He’s been so great,” she admits with a sad smile, her vision blurred with more tears.

“I have to give props to Killian,” Ruby comments sincerely as she throws her phone back into her purse. “He has really stepped up to the plate since his brother died.”

“Yes,” Mary Margaret agrees. “Even David said so and that’s saying something coming from him.”

“I just have no idea how you and Killian keep your hands off each other.” Ruby shakes her head before taking a bite and washing it down with Coke.

Emma’s mouth falls open as she stares at Ruby incredulously. “I just lost Liam five months ago. And, in case you forgot, Killian is his brother.”

“Exactly!” Ruby says loudly, drawing the attention of other diners. “In case you forgot, his brother was his best friend. If there’s anyone he would’ve trusted the love of his life with, it’s Killian.”

Emma shakes her head. “No, I disagree. Liam would never have approved of me and Killian. Dead or alive.”

“Honey...” Mary Margaret reaches over the table and takes Emma’s hand in hers. “Liam would want you to be happy,” she says in a motherly tone.

“Well, yes, but so soon after his death? And with his brother?”

“Why not? He wouldn’t want you to be miserable. Especially since you’re pregnant. That kind of stress is not good for the baby.”

“I know, but I can’t just snap my fingers and make the pain disappear. I loved Liam and I don’t want to just move on and forget him.”

“You don’t have to, Emma. It is possible to love more than one person at a time. Loving someone else doesn’t have to change how you feel about Liam. Believe me, if something ever happened to me, I wouldn’t want David to be alone and miserable. I’d want him to find love again.” Mary Margaret tilts her head and purses her lips, considering her words. “I mean, I’d probably want him to mourn over my death for at least a year first, but after that, I’d want him to be with someone who could make him happy. He wouldn’t be as happy with someone else as he is with me, of course, but at least he’d be happy.”

Emma laughs at her sister-in-law and shakes her head. “Okay, but if you had a sister, would you be okay if David started seeing her after your death?”

“Well no, but what could I do? I’d be dead,” she says, taking a bite of her chicken sandwich.

“But what would other people think? This is a small town, and we all know people talk. I mean, everyone in Storybrooke already knows Milah’s pregnant and thinks Killian’s an asshole for abandoning a baby. Hell, people five towns over have probably heard by now.”

Ruby snort-laughs. “Sweetie, every woman in Storybrooke already thinks Killian’s an asshole. But screw what people think. This is your life and your child’s life. You have to do what’s right for you and that baby.”

“That’s right,” Mary Margaret nods. “Screw what everyone else thinks. You deserve to be happy again. You deserve to find love again and you deserve to give someone else love. All you have to do is allow yourself to love again.”

Emma offers a small smile and places her hand on her belly. “I do love someone else. I love this baby. And he or she is all I need right now.” As she says the words out loud, her heart squeezes painfully in her chest. She knows deep down that’s not entirely true. She has no idea what she’d do without Killian. As much as she hates to admit it, he’s helped her survive the past five months. They’ve helped each other survive. “Besides, even if I did fall for Killian, why would it matter? It’s not like he’d feel the same.”

Mary Margaret and Ruby exchange a glance and then look back at her again.

“So, I hate to break this to you,” Mary Margaret begins delicately as she joins her hands on the table, “but that man is totally and completely in love with you.”

Emma laughs, taking a sip of her water, not believing one word that just came out of her sister-in-law’s mouth. “That’s a good one, M.M.”

“I’m serious, Emma. Do you not notice the way Killian looks at you? I bet you, he’s been in love with you this entire time.”

Emma chokes on her water and wipes her mouth, her eyes widening in disbelief. “What are you talking about? Killian hated me before Liam died.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s what he wanted you to believe,” Ruby says. “Turns out men are much more complicated than us women think.”

Emma narrows her eyes. “What are you talking about? Why would he pretend to hate me?”

“Because you were his brother’s girlfriend. Then his fiancé. Killian may have been a lot of things—he was an asshole to many people—but he never would’ve stabbed his brother in the back. He never would’ve purposely hurt Liam like that. Why do you think he suddenly flipped a switch after Liam died? He wanted to be there for you, instead of putting you through hell like he used to. He wanted to take care of you and make sure you were okay. That would’ve been hard to do if he were still pretending to hate you.”

Emma blinks as she tries to process this. Could it be true? Has Killian loved her this entire time? But that’s absurd. “Wait, so you’re saying Killian was like that kid in kindergarten who pulled on my pigtails because he actually liked me?”

“Kind of, except he doesn’t just like you. He loves you. And he wasn’t pretending to hate you because he was shy. He was pretending because it was easier if you hated him, too.”

Emma ponders Ruby’s words, thinks back to all the times Killian was a dick to her and wonders if it were true. Did Killian do all those things because he actually loved her and didn’t want to hurt his brother? But why torture himself and stay at the apartment the three of them shared if he really loved her? Why put himself through that? “But how do you guys know this?”

Mary Margaret’s lips curve into a small smile. “Honey, do you remember when you first saw Killian at the bar? And when you went up to talk to him even though I highly suggested against it?”

“Yeah, I remember. So?”

“Soooo?” Ruby says, aghast. “Look, I’ve seen Killian gawk at and flirt with a lot of women who walked into that bar. And I mean A LOT. But when I saw you and Killian talking that night...I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looked at you. Do you remember when you came to visit Liam at the bar for the first time after you two finally told everyone you were seeing each other?”

Emma nods. “Yeah, I remember.”

“Well, you obviously didn’t notice because you were too distracted by Liam, but Killian was working that night.” Ruby blows out a breath and shakes her head. “Man, he looked at you like his dog just died.”

“Killian doesn’t have a dog,” Emma points out.

“Exactly. He wasn’t devastated by a dead dog, Emma. He was devastated because he knew you could never be his. Seeing you with his brother was probably a hard pill to swallow.”

Emma laughs and picks up an onion ring, dunking it in ranch. “He wasn't devastated. Believe me, I was the last thing on his mind. He met some woman at the bar and brought her home that night,” she says, taking a bite out of the onion ring. She could tell he was upset the morning he found out she was with his brother, but she had chalked up his reaction to disappointment. He was disappointed she couldn't be another notch on his bedpost. She'd hardly call that devastation. But that was the Killian she knew back then. Before she had grown to care for him. Before he'd grown to care for her.

Ruby’s eyes widen. “Um, yeah, to try and get over you. Or to distract himself.”

Emma shakes her head. “That’s ridiculous. He was not in love with me, nor is he.”

Is he?

Ruby shrugs. “Maybe, maybe not. But there’s only one way to find out for sure. You could ask him.”

“What difference would it make? Even if he is in love with me, I’m in no place to return those feelings.”

Ruby and Mary Margaret obviously don’t believe her, but they return to eating their food rather than trying to argue any further.

Emma knows they think she’s living in complete and utter denial, and maybe she is. But until she knows for sure the feelings she has for Killian are real and not just her pregnancy hormones speaking, and until she knows he won’t go back to his old ways of picking up a different chick every night, she’s sticking with her new vibrator for now.

@stahlop @wefoundloveunderthelight @citygirlscowboy @piratesbooty63fan @ultraluckycatnd @itsfabianadocarmo @resident-of-storybrooke @snowbellewells @onceuponaprincessworld @tiganasummertree @viajandosinalas@teamhook @captainswan-shipper88 @jamif @katielovesstarcrossedlovers @uhthreeyuh @lfh1226-linda @babyyouremyqueen @sthonour @julesep3026 @fairytalewhispersinmyheart @andiirivera @wefoundloveunderthelight @wickedsw4n @eleveneitherway @eherron14 @ouatpost @transparentclodsludgeweasel

If you would like to be tagged or untagged, please let me know!

#cs ff #through the rising tide #my fic #captain swan

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1ddotdhq · 4 years ago

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🍃Wed 18 Nov ‘20💌

The duality of Harry! Today we got snapback and jumper casual Harry promoting Choose Love- a store where you can buy supplies for refugees- but Don't Worry Darling (which filming looks to be starting back up today or tomorrow) he also appears in his Gucci episode today ready to piss off more conservatives with the Looks he's serving! He's wearing a pink and white tucked in jersey, short ripped jean shorts (not quite booty shorts, but definitely not in adherence to any high school dress code), tall socks and loafers (and how much do you think they paid him to not wear his vans?). In the still that Gucci released early today he's got one hip cocked sassily, his hand on the other, and a phone to his ear. He looks like the gay uncle you wish you had posing as an 80s romcom heroine, like seriously straight people on Mars' gaydar is going off, I'm at an actual loss as to how they could have made this picture scream any louder! But never mind the still, let’s talk about the movie! Thus far Gucci Fest has been an exploration of the constructs of gender and sexuality and the expressions of such - how the existence of some people (“monsters”, as the TV pundit says proudly in the first episode) is inherently political, and also beautiful in its dissidence. They've gone for an artsy, surrealist vibe, it's very atomspheric. I have also personally appreciated the language diversity - the first one was in Spanish, and the second one in Italian, and today’s in Italian and English. Today’s episode opens with a crowd of unmasked people crammed in a public place (post office) followed by a shot of the lead character Silvia writing “we breathe the same air”, a bit disconcerting in these times. Anyway, they see a whole cast of characters there, including the advertised 'elegant gentleman', who is chatting with Harry on the phone! He asks Harry (who appears as Harry Styles™) about art, and how one celebrates the joyful differences of humanity within it, and Harry, standing outside in a garden replying on a flip phone with the sun flaring into the camera replies, “I think when it comes to making art, it's about...finding the thing you've always wanted to see, or you've always wanted to listen to, that like has never been made. It's always like an uncomfortable moment, I think, when you find the thing. You know, you don't know if you love it or hate it, because you don't know what it is yet, but i think that's the most exciting place to work in, and that's true for all the fields you mentioned. I think you draw on things you've, you know, kind of experienced in the past because it's your only reference point.” This sounds like something we’ve heard from him (and Louis!) before, but this time it’s DIFFERENT because it’s ARTSY.

Oh, and also! The Crown’s Emma Corrin, who you may remember being introduced oh so casually as Harry's PLATONIC friend (not a weird thing to spell out in headlines at all, nooo) right around the time she got cast in that role, mentioned last night that Harry had dog sat for her dog Spencer one night, but that halfway through dinner she received a text from an alarmed Harry-- “He won't stop farting. Is this normal?" and that was the end of that potentially beautiful platonic relationship (Harry/Spencer that is). Funny how the resurgence of their names together in the media comes right as Harry’s Vogue cover drops and Emma’s tenure as Princess Diana starts - nope, definitely no promo going on there! Jimmy Fallon, who was interviewing her, thought the whole thing was very funny and cosplayed Harry in his Howard Stern outfit - the bright Cobalt Blue sweater, deep green pants, and pearl necklace, and even included the Louis Blue balloon that made it to the cover of Vogue. Bluegreeners, the lot of them!

Liam’s 3rd collaborative Hugo Collection is out today! Liam answered some questions about the it on their instagram stories: he loves the “disheveled” look that Hugo went with for this capsule, he’s loved to learn about sustainability in fashion, his favorite piece is the blue track suit, his favorite collection (so far!) has been #2, or #1? (someone responsible for making this video to promote capsule *#3* is crying but don't worry, he loves “all of them!” They’re “my little design babies”), and his favorite Hugo outfit was a custom red suit. The new designs, as Liam mentions, are more casual than ones that we’ve seen in the past, consisting of a lot of athleisure in au natural shades of taupe and such. If you want to see more of Liam taking about his fashion collection, tune in to Hugo’s YouTube channel this sunday at 6:30 GMT, where Liam and “special guests” will be online for the premiere of “The Style Eye”. What is that? No clue, but let’s all find out together, shall we? And, Liam is also going to be a part of Global’s Make Noise Celebrity Giftmas, donating a personalized video from him. It seems like the winner will be picked in a raffle, and you donate to enter! The proceeds will be going into a COVID relief fund, so it’s all for a good cause, as it always is with Liam!

And Niall's gone public about being in LA: he was papped yesterday wearing blue Nike shorts, a white T shirt with some flower blossoms over the heart and cartoon naked people on the back, and a Modest Golf mask (Harry’s not the only one who does promo in his pap walks!). Modest Management published a piece praising his RAH show, saying “the first words he said to us when he came off stage on Saturday were 'let’s do that again!'. So, possibly.” We look forward to more, especially if it means we get to hear some of the new songs he's working on right now!

#harry styles #liam payne #niall horan #and no one else did anything today haha #but it was a busy one nonetheless #anyways!#song of the day!#Like Real People Do by Hozier #also in case anyone is curious yes the YouTube chat was a mess prior to the premier and i thouroughly enjoy it

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wizardysseus · 4 years ago

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i was thinking about once upon a time (abc) in bed this morning so i decided to write this list

subject to change, since awhile ago i was in the middle of season 6 when they took it off netflix and i never quite got around to picking it back up. i’m gonna finish if it kills me i promise

top 5 things about once upon a time

5. anna frozen

when ouat introduced frozen characters, most fans decided the show had jumped the shark. they were not wrong. however, it was this very thing that allowed the show to be fun again! after an excruciatingly bad season 3 (we will get to that), bringing on anna and elsa literally transported directly from their own unaltered story in cheap ass versions of their unaltered movie costumes allowed the show to let loose and do... basically whatever it wanted. this became the hallmark of the show for those who stuck with it: absolutely not making sense at all, but being fun about it. post-season-three ouat becomes a totally different soap opera from season one, but by god you are never bored.*

personally, the flashback episode where anna annoys rumpelstiltskin and gets the better of him and he’s so fucking mad about it is like top 10 episodes**

4. 2x16 “the miller’s daughter”

this episode is just another personal favorite. it exemplifies what this show was really good at when it was good, and also where everything went wrong. i think cora is a great example of a good ouat villain, i think the twist on the rumpelstiltskin story is great, i think the dramatic beats really work.

...and in typical ouat fashion, cora immediately dies and two more villains we don’t care about at all are introduced. (sonequa forgive me you know i’m in love with you but tamara was nothing. it’s not your fault.) yes we get that great scene of snow aggressively doing archery practice while listening to “bad reputation” but was it worth killing off a compelling villain just as you’d dug into her story?

3. the commitment to regina’s redemption

and lana parrilla in general. i mean i’m gay and she’s hot but the worse the show got, the more acting lana gave it. and this is just speculation, but i think lana is more comfortable with drama than with camp? because regina becomes a much more interesting character as someone conflicted and on the path to redemption than as a villain. and by god, they were gonna redeem regina.

if only she had been gay we really could have had it all.

2. rumpelstiltskin

the sweet spot with rumpelstiltskin for me was seasons one and two when he was unabashedly bastard, there was an attempt to make him sympathetic but nobody except belle actually liked him, you weren’t quite sure how much he knew, he was pulling all the strings, and he was just really fucking weird. it will surprise no one who follows this blog to hear that that is my type of wizard.

1. season one

it’s a good season. it’s a good season. there are some bad things about it, but it was extremely watchable. it was doing fairy tales with occasional disney nods in a (mostly) cohesive fashion. the lore and the magic hadn’t sprawled out of control yet. it had the strongest relationship, imo, between emma and henry, and emma and snow. as for iconic episodes, most of the greats are here, plus sebastian stan as the mad hatter and giancarlo esposito as a series regular. the crowning moment for me is the scene at the end of skin deep, when regina confronts gold in the town jail and he reveals that he remembers his real name (after beating the shit out of belle’s dad with his cane obviously). god. that is some good television.

worst 5 things about once upon a time

5. the adoption politics but everyone knows this one.

4. WASTING the talent

you had the love of my life sonequa martin-green and gave her nothing. you somehow scored oded fehr as jafar and gave him nothing. you had giancarlo esposito and regina literally forgot he existed. i will kill you

3. rumpelstiltskin.

it’s no secret that robert carlyle was acting circles around most of the cast; my opinion is that the showrunners felt that if they committed to either his redemption or his villainy, they would never find someone else with the talent to fill his shoes as bastard wizard. so they flip-flopped on him every half-season, which ruins his story longterm, slowly kills the light in robert’s eyes, and gets reallllllly old. it’s also no secret that my favorite rumpelstiltskin is bastard wizard, but they screwed over belle BIG time in the process and for that i will never forgive them.

also like. the rumpelstiltskin fairy tale is antisemitic to begin with and they did not minimize that by comparing him to a lizard and naming his storybrooke counterpart mr gold. they just. did that.

2. THE FUCKING NEVERLAND ARC GOD IN CHRIIIIIIIIIIIST THAT HALF-SEASON IS EXCRUCIATING

1. captain hook

*it’s my opinion that if you are bored, you’re watching a hook-centric episode. every time i dropped the show and forgot about it for months at a time, it was because i had been in the middle of an episode about hook and just could not get through it. how do i describe all the things i don’t like about what killian hook jones did to the show? with subpoints!

1a. the episode where gold gives him back his hand and he never changes.

**this is actually the same episode i mentioned about anna and, like i said, it’s one of my favorites and not at all boring. look, i’m not pretending this list isn’t subjective as hell.

remember when hook blackmailed mr gold into magically reattaching his hand, which gold has been keeping in a jar, because hook has a date with emma and wants it to go well? but also, gold tells him that if he reattaches his hand with dark magic, it will turn him evil? and then hook spends the episode doing evil things, only for mr gold to tell him “i was just messing with you! the hand was not evil, you gave yourself permission to be evil ;)”

yeah, that’s basically hook’s mo.

1b. episode where emma tells him his brother is lying to him and he learns the exact wrong lesson from this and never changes.

so emma goes to the underworld to get hook back after he dies (while being evil and doing villainous things). they find his brother down there, too, and emma senses that he has a dark secret (because he does) and is lying to them (because he is). but hook always idolized his older brother, so he won't believe her. when emma confronts the brother directly, hook interrupts to rant to her about how he knows what this is ~really all about.

actual dialogue:

HOOK: i don't need proof to know what's really going on here. emma, when are you gonna admit that this isn't really about my brother? EMMA: what else would you think it was about? HOOK: us. you think if you can prove that liam is a villain, then i’ll somehow feel like i was less of one.

who... would EVER come to that conclusion. and why is the lesson he learns at the end “perhaps i do deserve saving after all” (another direct quote), and not “NOT EVERYTHING IS ABOUT YOU, BECAUSE EMMA WAS LITERALLY RIGHT ABOUT YOUR BROTHER LYING TO EVERYONE”????

1c. the emma dark one arc, where hook never changes.

this would be the arc that leads up to the above underworld arc, and it is deeply dumb, entertaining, and hard to explain. suffice it to say, during this whole arc, killian (along with emma) has all the powers and ~~~Darkness~~~ of the dark one (formerly rumpelstiltskin). unlike emma, he is not aware of this for most of the season. the moment he finally finds out, he turns on emma and goes through with all the revenge plans he’s apparently been holding onto since season two.

it’s supposed to be sympathetic, because emma made this choice for him to be a dark one, which is clearly awful, when he didn’t want it. so i get that. but on the other hand, it is..... boring. because (a) it's nothing we haven't seen him try to do and fail at before, his motivations really aren't that complex. and more importantly, (b) he was the dark one the whole time! the only thing that changed, that made him act evil, was finding out about it. at that point, it's not the ~~~Darkness~~~ making you do evil things. it’s just you. because you’re a dick.

how is this arc resolved? well, he dies. after the underworld arc (which i very much enjoyed tbf), a sizable part of robin hood’s death episode is devoted to people telling emma to slow down and grieve for killian, since at least two arcs have revolved around her inability to let hook go when he is literally dying or dead. (it’s been said a million times but being his girlfriend really sucked the personality out of emma and i miss her.) and in the end he just... comes back anyway. no explanation given; he says it must be a reward from zeus for killing hades... while he and emma make out literally in front of the coffin of robin hood... who actually died fighting hades. killian died half a season before. while he was evil. and emma reverts to tearful girlfriend.

it’s insulting. it’s grating. and it is a Killian Hook Jones Guarantee that his episodes will involve some measure of this.

like, is it more or less the same shtick that the writers kept giving rumpelstiltskin, too? backsliding and screwing over his love interest who gets less and less say in the matter? yes. definitely. the crucial difference is that i, personally, love rumpelstiltskin, while i find hook boring and not self-aware. but clearly i have had a lot of fun complaining about him! again, this is not an objective list.

conclusions

this show ran for 7 years. it got cancelled not because it deserved to, but because no one liked the soft reboot. it was on until 2018.

#thoughts #once upon a time #long post

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seriouslyhooked · 4 years ago

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Feels Like This (Part 10)

Emma Swan is a once lost girl who is now making good. She has made a way in the world for her and her young son, Henry, and after years of hard work, Emma is in her last stretch of schooling for the career she’s always wanted. Unexpectedly, she finds herself in a tiny nation no one’s ever heard of for her last year of study. She knows nothing about the place except that it’s beautiful, has a world-renowned child life program, and is filled with possibility. Meanwhile, Prince Killian is hardly happy with the title he received at birth. As the second in line for the crown, Killian has long tried shaking his royal duties. He built a career in the royal navy, and has stayed out of the limelight, but his ship has been called to port indefinitely at the request of his brother, the King. Fate (in her many forms) brings Emma and Killian together and the resulting fic is a cute, fluffy, trope filled romp featuring heart felt moments, a healthy dose of insta-love and an assured happily ever after. Story rated M and will have 12 parts. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9. Available on FF Here and AO3 Here.

A/N: Hi everybody! I am so excited to FINALLY be back with a new chapter of a fic that so many of you have fallen in love with. This response has been truly unprecedented in my writing experience. I have had lots of fics that many of you rooted for and supported me in, and I am always so grateful for that, but having a hiatus from writing this story showed me just how invested so many of you are. This is a great feeling as a writer, and that excitement you all have is the only reason I have been able to write more of this fic. My ability to write at my usual pace has been tested this fall, and there’s been some ups and downs in my attempts to reengage, but I love this story and I am so excited to share the rest of it with you all. I hope you will all like this new installment, I thank you again for continuing this with me, and I cannot wait to hear what you think!

“Mmmm, this smells delicious,” Henry said, hovering over the skillet not for the first time this evening, and breathing in the pasta sauce Killian had been working on the past half hour. To the boy’s credit, it did smell absolutely wonderful, a comforting classic anyone would love, and which the three of them had earned, after a day of unexpected meetings and introductions. This pasta was a traditional Montennaran recipe, not far off from a classic Sicilian pomodoro, but with the benefit of a few of this country’s specialties. It was a favorite of his personally, and one of the few meals he’d learned to cook well during his time in the service.

“Seriously. Who knew you could cook like this?” Emma said, still stunned at the display before them. She must have assumed from pizza night and the slow cooking speed of their first date that he was fully a novice, and he was in many ways. But he did have a few small tricks up his sleeves, and one was this sauce, which was easy to make as long as he had the right ingredients. It was quick, but precise, and it gave off the perception that he had mastered something difficult, even though that wasn’t true.

“This dish is a special one for me and for my unit. This is the spread each of us waited for during deployments. You crave so many things when you’re without them for so long, but this meal symbolized something else. The moment we’d touch down on Montennaran soil, this is the first thing we would eat. It represents safety just as much as it does a good meal.”

“You always had this?” Henry asked, his brow furrowed in confusion. “No matter what time?”

“Breakfast, lunch, or dinner. This was it,” Killian said, smiling at the memory of early morning pasta meals that he’d enjoyed more than most other moments in his time at sea. Those were the times when they all felt at peace again, and where they allowed themselves to breathe and heal no matter what dark moments had been withstood. “We took turns preparing it, tired as we’d all be from the tour and the travel, but the pressure was on. The last thing you want to do is disappoint newly anchored sailors. It’s a mistake that may just be your last.”

“No kidding,” Henry said, surprised but taking the words at face value. “It sounds so cool though. Being in the Navy, I mean. You meet all those people, people who are your family too even if you’re not related.”

“Aye, lad, they are my family. Always will be.”

“I can’t wait to meet them someday,” Henry said eagerly. Killian noticed Emma tense a bit but she didn’t need to worry. It was always his intention to introduce them all, because it was his plan to keep Emma and Henry with him forever. “Will it be like today do you think?”

“That depends on how you think today went.”

Killian’s quip earned a laugh from Henry and a soft smile from Emma. He was teasing as if the afternoon had been anything but excellent, when of course that was not the case. Despite the unexpected nature of it all, his family had been on their best behavior and they’d all immediately loved Emma and her boy. He knew in his heart they would, but it took a lot of pressure off and hopefully would help ease some of Emma’s worries about where this was going and if his family would approve.

“Today was totally awesome!” Henry said. “Everyone was so nice and cool. But Gran was definitely my favorite.”

“For now maybe,” Killian said, knowing full well what the draw of his Gran was and how her energy and feistiness made her infinitely lovable. “But give it time. My Mum and Liam both have a few more tricks up their sleeves.”

“What did you think of today, Mom?” Henry asked, and Killian was intrigued to know her thoughts. He doubted that Emma would go very deep with her assessment, but she was always honest with her son, of that Killian was totally assured.

“It was… easy,” Emma confessed, smiling at the memories of the day. “I never expected to feel so welcomed right away, but everyone was so normal, it was nice.”

“Normal is pushing it a bit, love. My grandmother’s revelations alone somewhat undermine my family’s classification as something so benign.”

“Maybe,” Emma said with a shrug. “But the families I’ve seen all have some kind of well-meaning meddling, don’t they? Hers just has a bit more royal flare.”

“Oh, Gran’s got flare all right. No doubt about that,” Henry said cheekily as he took the dishes and silverware from Emma and headed to the dining room to set the table.

It wasn’t a statement the boy had meant to be impactful, but it hit Killian right in the heart. That was another special moment from today. There was no formality with his family and Henry and Emma, and he had witnessed the moment his grandmother insisted that Henry call her Gran as well. To have Henry accept that so quickly was a blessing, and another bright spot in what had been a beautiful day.

“And what about you?” Emma asked him when they were alone. “How did you think today went?”

Instinctively Killian turned off the burner, knowing the food was ready to serve but not wanting it to be ruined. He wiped his hands clean of any rogue tomato and then he pulled Emma straight into his arms in one fluid motion. Without pause, he pressed a kiss to her lips that was meant to be soft and nonintrusive in case Henry returned, but quickly morphed to something heated when Emma clutched at his shirt and arched in closer. By the time they pulled apart, he almost forgot the question, but Emma’s curious green eyes prompted him to reassure her of the truth.

“Today was one of the best days I’ve ever known, love. The most important people in my world came together, and if my instincts are correct, it’s gone just about as perfectly as it could. I couldn’t ask for anything more than that…”

“Sounds like there’s a ‘but’ hanging in that statement,” she said, running her fingers across his cheek as she looked at him, searching for answers. “Talk to me.”

“It’s just that I -,”

“Okay, table’s set!” Henry said, barreling back into the kitchen and prompting Killian to step back from Emma but to keep his hand in hers.

Emma and Killian exchanged a look that silently said they would pick up this conversation again later, but Killian squeezed her hand in what he hoped was a calming and comforting gesture. The hanging words he’d yet to say were hardly bad ones, he just had to admit that as beautiful as today was he wanted so much more. He’d never have enough days like this one for his liking. He would always want more, no matter what came, and that was what he’d have to ask her for if not today then someday very soon.

Dinner proceeded without a hitch, and not only was his cooking a success, but the meal was fun and lively. Henry made for so much conversation, and his thoughts on the day were long and varied. He was so full of excitement and energy that it was contagious, and Killian learned more from both the boy and his mother about what they’d taken from meeting his family. They all talked about the center too, about Marco and Marie and Cecelia, and then at length about Anna and especially Elsa.

“Do you think anything will come from it?” Emma asked Killian at one point, after they’d already dissected how undeniable the moment was between Emma’s friend and Killian’s brother.

“Oh for sure,” Henry said before Killian could respond. Both Emma and Killian laughed at his confidence.

“You seem rather certain, lad.”

“Well it’s pretty obvious. I mean he looks at Elsa the way you look at Mom. They’re totally gonna get together. It was love at first sight. Just like with you two.”

“Henry,” Emma said, chastising him somewhat but in a measured way.

“What?”

“Well not for nothing, but you didn’t even see Killian and I meet how could you know it was…”

“Love at first sight?” Killian offered, grinning at her, knowing in his heart that was exactly what they’d felt the moment they laid eyes on each other.

“Exactly.”

“Oh, come on, Mom,” Henry said, rolling his eyes in a move Killian rarely ever saw, but which looked exactly like his mother when she was exasperated. He nearly choked on his water, but he powered through, biting back a laugh at Emma’s shocked face. “It was totally love. You came home extra happy and you had a dreamy look on your face all the time when Killian started volunteering. And since then you’ve been kinda… what does Mrs. H call it again? Oh right, scatterbrained. Love can do that, you know. I asked Gran about it today and she said it’s a telltale sign.”

“You asked her that?” Emma asked, shocked and maybe just a little bit mortified as Henry nodded like it was no big deal.

“Yup. She knows everything. She said that’s what happens when you’re old, and since Mrs. H says that too I think it’s probably true. Come to think of it, they’d be great friends don’t you think?”

“Mrs. H and Queen Eleanor?” Emma asked, as if the thought of their neighbor and Killian’s grandmother being ‘friends’ was too much to handle. “Well I mean, now that you mention it, there are a few similarities there.”

“Totally. And if Mrs. H was here she’d agree with me about Liam and Elsa. It’s totally love, and that’s awesome. Queen Elsa. It has a nice ring to it. Like she was meant to be a royal.”

Killian didn’t think Elsa was the only one with a name suited for royalty. In his estimation Princess Emma and even Prince Henry were rather fitting as well, but he bit that statement back, not wanting to overwhelm Emma or bring something up in front of Henry that she wasn’t ready for. Instead he steered the conversation in other directions, enjoying himself thoroughly as they all enjoyed dessert together that Emma had put together before watching a movie the three of them. It was a totally natural thing, and at more than one point Killian thought that they really looked like a family. It filled his heart with hope, and he wished one day he could officially claim both of them as his. But tonight, he’d just enjoy how good it felt to be with two such special people who seemed to see something in him too.

“Okay, kid, it’s about that time. It’s late already, so PJs and then you can read two chapters and then that’s all she wrote. You got me?”

“Sure, Mom. But can I read to Killian tonight? I’m at a great part in the story. The pirates are about to board the ship.”

“Um, I’m not – I mean, if you want?” Emma asked deferring to him though she was obviously flustered.

“Sounds good to me,” Killian said prompting relief in Emma and a sound of excitement from Henry.

Henry hurried to get himself ready for bed, and just as he’d promised, he proceeded to read Killian two chapters of his current book. The title was one Killian recognized from his youth, but he was impressed that a ten year old had such command of the story. Henry was a good reader but also theatrical, keeping Killian’s attention all the while. Only when he closed the book did Killian leave the swashbuckling alternative universe the story took place in.

“Quite the tale there, lad. You’ll have to keep me apprised of what happens next.”

“No need, I’ll save it until you come back again,” Henry said easily, gesturing to his bookcase which was full of books in so many shades and shapes. “I’ve got tons of them to read.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Killian said truthfully standing back up and heading towards the door. “Well thanks again for the story, Henry. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Killian,” Henry said, letting out a yawn and settling into bed. “Love you.”

The words placed a direct hit on Killian’s heart, and he was unsure if Henry had meant to say it or if sleep was getting the better of him, but Killian could only go on instinct. He answered honestly, telling the boy he loved him too and seeing him smile and settle to sleep before slipping into the hall and walking right into Emma who had tears in her eyes.

“Emma?” he asked, mindful to keep his voice more a whisper than something that could wake up Henry. “Is everything all right?”

“He said he loves you,” Emma whispered, and Killian nodded, brushing her tears away as he held her close.

“He did, love, and it made me feel ten feet tall.”

“Because you love him too,” she whispered, awed at that as if were some kind of stunning revelation and not a given fact of life.

“Of course I do. He’s an amazing boy, and his mother… well she’s the beating of my heart. How could I do anything but love him when he’s a piece of you, Emma?”

“What were you going to say earlier?” Emma asked, abruptly pulling them back to that moment in the kitchen. He debated holding back, but he decided ultimately it was better to put all of his cards on the table. Transparency was key if they had any shot of making this work.

“I was going to say that you, Emma Swan, are the reason. You’re my reason for everything, this impossible gift I never saw coming, and I’m lost in you. I see this perfect moment and forever when I look in your eyes, I see a life I’m desperate to pursue and real hope for the future. I still can’t believe that you’ve chosen me and that I’m standing here with you at all, and a day as good as this one only reminds me that I’ll always have this want - this need - for you. I love you, Emma, irrefutably, incandescently. In a forever and so much longer kind of way.”

“I love you too. Just as much,” Emma said, her voice stronger this time though her tears still came. They appeared to be the product of joy instead of sadness, but they still clutched at his chest like a vice. The only antidote was pulling Emma somewhere private, in this case her bedroom, and confirming he was right.

Once the door was closed behind them, locking them into a sound tight suite on the other end of Emma’s temporary home, their actions blended together. He didn’t lead the way, but moved with Emma, a dance that felt so much more practiced than it was. Emma pulled him for steamy kisses, and he savored her taste on his tongue as he held her close and moved her back towards the bed in her room. The lights were dimmed, but washed the room in a warmth he felt upon his skin. He was burning up from the closeness and the promise of what was to come, but the only thing he could think was that he needed more.

In the back of his mind, Killian also realized that this moment needed quiet. With Henry in the house, they didn’t have the freedom he might yearn for, but no matter. He had the love of the most incredible woman and she’d accepted his love in return. That needed celebration and merited some long-desired reveling. He wanted to show her how he felt, and though he’d finally said the words and attempted to make her understand, the feelings he had went so much deeper. Looking in her eyes right now, he could tell she felt just as much, but the time for waiting and wondering was over. They had put the truth between them and now it was time to truly immerse themselves in it.

Instinct and hunger soon took over for Killian, melding with the love he felt and the softer feelings in his heart in a wickedly wonderful way. He wanted Emma bared to him as soon as could be, spread out on the sheets of this bed and ready for his taking. They’d been flirting with the pleasures they could have for a while now, and they’d been intimate before, but this was different. This was a first in many ways, and Killian was intent on having this moment be one they wouldn’t rush, and that they’d remember for the rest of their lives.

A primal voice in his brain urged him to take her fast and hard, to make a claim they’d both feel branded by, but Killian anchored himself to an idea of something slower and more sensual. He knew taking his time would prove so much more gratifying, and he wanted to make this as good for his Swan as it could possibly be. He helped Emma out of clothes, noticing the tremble of her hands as he did. She was buzzing with excitement and electricity, but she matched his pace, understanding that if they drove each other crazy for just a little longer it would be sublime.

He was entranced by her entirely, and as her clothes from the day fell away, revealing two extremely unexpected scraps of red lace underneath, he couldn’t help but groan. No woman had a right to be so lovely, to claw at him so surely, and to set him alight in this way, but God did he love it. Emma was impossible, but somehow she was real. He felt her responsiveness to him and tracked the way that she noticed how his appreciative gaze moved up her body. A flush spread across her creamy skin, but she stood there, proud and sure as her hands moved across his body, removing his clothes as he’d done hers.

“I didn’t know that I could want this much,” she whispered, the honey-laced tone of her voice a sweet melody to his ears. “I need you, Killian. I love you.”

“Fuck me,” he grumbled, surprising her by taking her in his arms and lowering her to the bed. She let out a gasp before giving into laughter, her eyes bright and sparkling in the lamp light.

“Believe me, I’m trying,” she quipped, but her feistiness faded somewhat as he shed the rest of his clothes. Now her attention had switched, she was watching him steadily, and unconsciously licked her lips. That was it. His patience broke and he was on her, hands roaming, mouth teasing, and hellbent on more.

“Much as I might love that idea, Swan, tonight isn’t about fucking. Tonight I make love to the woman of my dreams. Tonight I show you my heart in full. It’s so much more than sex.”

“I know,” Emma whispered, running her hands along his cheek. “So show me.”

Bound by her request, Killian set out to do just that. It began with roaming hands and removing the last two scraps of red that shielded her from him. Once she was bare, he let himself explore and learn every spot and lick and nip that made her breathless. He traced the sensitive places on her body that made her hum in pleasure, and cherished each freckle on her skin that had come from the summer sun. He riled her up with his hands and his mouth until she was pleading for release, and then he gave it to her, touching her tender flesh and prompting a thready moan from her lips.

“Killian.” Emma’s croon was ragged and gorgeous, making him harder than he ever thought possible. The sound of her desire reached within his soul and engulfed him completely. Unable to resist, he felt himself growing addicted, unsure if he could ever stop. He needed her sighs like he needed to breath, and he purposefully pulled as many sounds of pleasure from her as he could.

There was nothing like Emma lost in lust. She’d never been more beautiful and he didn’t know how that was possible. As his thumb swirled against her clit and his fingers filled her, she gave more away, revealing herself and her needs in ways that made him dizzy. Every response set Killian aflame, and every breathy sigh and plea for more was a sign he intended to follow until he’d led her right over the edge and she shattered beneath him.

“You destroy me, love,” he found himself saying as he looked down at her and brushed some strands of her curled blonde hair out of her eyes. “Destroy me and make me into so much more. I’m in awe of you.”

In the face of her release, and the sincere words that he meant completely, Emma blushed again but smiled. Her expression was one he’d only ever seen her share with him, and it made him feel indestructible. He’d never met a person with more impact on his soul, and he’d never met a woman who so effortlessly created hope and good in his heart. Emma Swan was everything a man could ever want made real, and Killian still couldn’t comprehend how he was lucky enough to be here.

“I can’t imagine this is real,” Emma said, her words still dazed, but happy and content. “But I know it is. I know you are. I’m in this, Killian. I’ve never been more in.”

“Thank God for that, love,” Killian said with a grin and one more kiss before he trailed lower.

With careful attentions designed for maximum pleasure, Killian hit each peak point on her body, bestowing licks and nips that made her jump and mewl. By the time he’d reached her inner thighs, she was breathing heavy, anticipation clear as day. Killian looked up to her now emerald colored eyes as his hands held her steady, needing to know that this was what she wanted and what he saw was irrefutable. Emma was just as desirous for this as he was, and Killian was never so glad for anything in his life.

When his tongue met her sex, he tasted her need for him. Her body writhed beneath him, but he held her still, knowing she needed this from him now. She was wound up tight, the desire twisting around inside her and making her try to break away, but he built it up wanting to give her something she’d never get enough of. With slow, languid licks, he built the moment for him and her. The higher she climbed, the more crazed he himself became, but he waited until she shattered again to take his own pleasure. Once she had, though, all bets were off.

Their coming together was sensational serenity, walking the line between hard and gentle, tender and heated. Further and further they moved towards bliss, but time was off its normal tracks and their minds were filled with only this glorious moment. Soon enough, and yet not soon enough at all, they met that magic, crashing into climax. Minutes later they remained, both spent and breathing heavy, glowing from the aftermath and intertwined together, two bodies hell bent on never being parted. Killian found himself speechless in the aftermath, though his hands drew unknown figures on her skin. He had to touch her, had to hold her, even though he had just felt heaven itself. Truth be told, Killian was totally complete, and more invigorated than ever. Life had never felt more perfect and nothing had ever made more sense.

These revelations were all thanks to Emma. She was the one who made him believe love could be honest and true. She showed him depths he’d never dreamed of, and right now, as the swift and gentle tug of sleep came beckoning, she was a vision. Smiling at him, holding him close and whispering a promise he almost couldn’t bear.

“Forever, Killian,” she breathed, cuddling towards his chest after pressing one last kiss upon his skin. “That’s how long I know I’ll love you.”

“Forever, Emma,” he replied, though he knew even now she may already have succumbed to slumber. “Forever and whatever exists beyond.”

……………

Sneaking back into the castle now was a stark contrast to the many mornings he’d snuck out for a bit of space. Killian couldn’t resist smiling at how much things had changed since that time, and on those days when he walked out in the hills to watch the sunrise. However, unlike those other mornings, Killian knew the moment he walked through the great oak doors that he was not the only one up at this God forsaken hour. Call it instinct or intuition, but Killian could sense uneasiness in the palace, and as he moved up the corridor and saw light emanating from one of Liam’s studies, his hunch was proven right.

With measured steps he approached the open door. It remained ajar, a beacon to anyone who may pass by that his brother was here but still approachable. What Killian saw when he walked to the doorway, however, was the undeniable truth that Liam was not well, and that he likely had no idea the door was open. He’d been up all night, burning the midnight oil, and studying files and photos strewn about his desk.

“For your information, you’re about…” Killian’s words trailed off as he checked the clock on the mantel to clarify the time, “twenty-two and a half minutes from being discovered by Francine or Claudette. Give or take or minute or so.”

The mention of two of the maids on the morning shift in the palace seemed to ground Liam into the reality of this moment and the predawn light outside. He looked up at Killian and then out the antique windows which offered a familiar view of the palace grounds, now bathed in the early morning sunshine. Liam let out a sigh, running a hand through his dark hair that had already been mussed with some frequency. There was no way his brother had slept this evening. He was wild and unkempt, and so far from his state of normal it was fascinating to see.

“Any other day and I’d be focused on your early morning return,” Liam mused, offering something like a smile. It surprised Killian, given how infrequent smiles had become for his brother, but before he could mention it, Liam looked back to the papers and the books strewn about the mahogany desk. Killian wasn’t sure what he expected, but these archives of the family’s public events was not it. His curiosity grew, and he urged his brother to explain himself.

“But it’s not so ordinary, is it?”

“No, she isn’t,” Liam whispered, slipping up and referring to the woman who had turned his head completely, instead of the morning itself. “I didn’t plan for this.”

“No one ever does,” Killian quipped. “Gran will be the first to tell you that to love is to surrender. Planning has no place in affairs of the heart.”

“That old bird is too crafty,” Liam said shaking his head as Killian’s brow furrowed in confusion. “All these years of talk, throwing opinions here there and everywhere. She never met a moment where words failed her and she never lets a day slip past where she doesn’t share her every whim. But I’ve always written it off as her opinion or some grandiose turn of phrase that sounds ripped from a book of clichés rather than something rooted in truth.”

“The worst are the riddles. The woman loves a riddle,” Killian added and Liam groaned, a sound of actual pain that Killian felt, despite its humor.

“I hate the bloody things. The flowery words, the abstract philosophies. It’s all just meaningless. Or so I thought. A whole life spent listening to this woman, and I never took much of it seriously. To be sure there were some times when she offered sage counsel, but I found it unlikely that she was actually providing me with answers to anything really sentimental. Half the time she’s as vague as can be. I wrote off nearly all her musings for the better part of my life.”

“Yet here we are,” Killian said evenly and Liam nodded.

“Aye, here we are.”

Liam stood from his chair and walked towards the windows. Killian watched as his brother’s arms crossed over his chest, his gaze turned out to the world, looking but not really seeing. He was lost in his own thoughts, struggling to give voice to them, and so Killian was patient. There was no use dragging Liam to conversation. His brother was guarded and grappling for control. Only when he was ready, would the truth come out. A few minutes later, after a prolonged bit of silence, they finally did.

“I’ve long put off the inevitable, brother. Royal expectation demands that I choose a bride, but for years I’ve hesitated, unwilling to commit to any kind of match. The press has questioned my delay for ages, but that talk is mostly harmless. Still, I have always known that would change. A day would come when talk became more, and I needed to settle, to choose duty over heart.”

“You’ve said as much before, brother, but nothing in the law says that you have to forsake your heart for the sake of the country. A love match is allowed. You know this.”

“Aye, I do, but I never entertained the premise, not really. After our parents’ fiasco of a marriage, I ruled it out entirely. My best hope was for what had existed before, something arranged where, if I was lucky, love may bloom. Look at Gran and Grandad. It was love, absolutely, but it was also a merger. There was very little choice involved at all, just logic and good reasoning. At least in those situations you know what you’re getting into. There’s a safety in settling for that which is known. But fuck if I want that anymore. Truth be told the thought makes me sick, and I barely spoke to her.”

“To Elsa, you mean?” Killian prodded and Liam’s eyes brightened as he nodded.

“How can she move me like this already? One day in her presence and I hardly know myself. One day and I know that everything I thought would happen will never come to pass. I’ll never be the man that settles, not when I know she’s out there. I can’t describe it except to say that I have to know her, have to pursue this, have to hope she’ll give me a chance. I’ve never felt this out of my depths. I saw her and the rest of the world just ceased to matter. I wasn’t the King, or a ruler, or a politician. I had no duty and no course. I was just a man, and she was the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, plain and simple. I know it’s mad, but damn if it’s not true.”

“If it’s mad, you’re in good company. That’s exactly how I felt the first time I saw Emma.”

“That’s reassuring, and yet… it’s the strangest thing, I swear I looked at Elsa and I was halfway in a memory. I was a boy again, but the details were hazy. It just felt familiar, like we’ve met before. My heart had skipped that particular beat. My gut had felt that strongly. Now though I’m lost. I’ve been trying to figure out if it’s more than what it is. Maybe I missed something, but how could anyone ever miss her?”

“Ah that explains these books,” Killian said gesturing to everything here. “But let me guess, no sign of her in these.”

“None. But the feeling still lingers. It’s like I dreamed her up. The recognition is strong, but just barely out of grasp. God, listen to me. I’ve become an absolute melt.”

Killian couldn’t help but laugh at the slang of their youth. Their boarding schools had been filled with Brits and other Europeans, and to be a melt was to be a sop, a sap, someone who had given in to their most romantic feelings.

“Maybe, but if that’s true, God knows I’m happy for it.”

“You are?”

“Of course I am. I’ve always wanted more for you, Liam. You shouldn’t aim for mere contentment, or to just be comforted by honor and duty. The goal is to be genuinely, honestly happy, and this morning, despite the anxiety of newness, I see the start of something in you. Something good.”

“I fear I’ve been too hard on you, Killian,” Liam said, his voice softer and his tone sincere. “Not lately I mean, and hopefully you’ve noticed the shift over the past few weeks, but in the beginning, I didn’t see how you could feel so much. I asked a lot of you, with the parade and royal obligations, and I didn’t realize what the risk was. Slowly I’ve grown to understand that the changes in you I have seen can only be attributed to love. You are happy and it is clear for the world to see. I’ve respected that, but now to know it’s more than hypothetical, I just think it bears repeating. To lose this feeling…” Liam brushed his hand against his heart absentmindedly, as if his chest ached from some physical pain. “Anyway, I hate that I forced that choice upon you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s forgiven, brother. Well, it will be, if you grant me one wish.”

“Anything.”

“I’d like your blessing, and not a royal one, not a King’s well wishes. Just you, as my brother, backing me when I ask Emma to be my wife.”

The look of surprise on Liam’s face quickly morphed into a grin. There was his brother of old, the one who had existed before royal training. He was truly happy and a bit mischievous as well. The two of them had long been told they shared that smile, but coming from Liam, it felt like a most precious gift.

“You plan to ask her already?”

“Already?” Killian laughed. “It feels like I’ve been waiting forever. But I suppose you’re right. It is fast.”

“Fast seems to run in this family,” Liam said thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t have said that before yesterday, but as it stands, I understand. You have my backing, Killian. Emma is right for you, and if she’ll have you, we’d be lucky to have her.”

Liam came around the table, hugging Killian and showing him the depth of his joy. It was genuine, this support from his brother, and it made a world of difference. No matter what, Killian would ask Emma to be his wife, but knowing that his family felt as good about this as he did settled something in him. Now all he had to do was find the perfect moment. It was hard to be patient, especially when they’d admitted how they felt, and when he knew his feelings for Emma would only ever grow, but he’d find away. More than anything he wanted Emma to have a perfect moment, one they could build their future on forever more.

“And what of you and Elsa? Where do you go from here?”

“The only way I can go,” Liam said, resuming his assured control even though he was at the precipice of something totally foreign to him. “Towards her.”

“Good man. Trust in that feeling. It’s yet to steer me wrong.”

The two of them would have no doubt shared more, but at that moment, the voices of the morning staff could be heard down the hall. Their privacy had expired, the day had dawned, and reality beckoned, yet Killian knew even without proof, that things would work out. For now, there was a tremendous amount of hope for both him and Liam, hope that had been missing for many many years. Things may still be a bit uncertain, hearts needed to be won and vows needed to be made, but in his soul, Killian knew it would all work out. For Gran was usually right in the end, and he and Liam would both certainly surrender to love. Killian, for his part, already had, and honestly, it was the best damn thing he’d ever done. Soon, though, he would need to do more, to take the steps he so badly wanted with Emma, and to build a life with her and Henry worthy of them both. It was a mission he felt down to his bones, and one he simply would not fail. He’d find a way to their happily ever after, whatever it may look like, and the excitement of that would keep him going as long as it took.

Post-Note: So there we have it – a new chapter of this story, and the setup for the next chapter which will have more of the Elsa/Anna backstory for you all. From there we get to move towards my typical happily ever after recipe, a proposal, a wedding, and the joyful thereafter. I think there’s going to be about 4 more installments left total (though one of those will be an epilogue and it may be quite a while before I am ready to publish that). But I promise to do my best to update more frequently than I have been. I have had so many of you sending love and wishes for faster updates, and those requests have not fallen on deaf ears. In fact, every comment and message makes writing that much easier, and I am so grateful for the overwhelming support. I promise I am doing my best to get you all this story, and just hope it’ll live up to everyone’s excited expectations. Either way, I thank you all so much for reading, and I wish you all well and healthy in this time. Sending you all the best!

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captain-emmajones · 4 years ago

Text

Love, Emma (1/7)

(Art by the wonderful @carpedzem <3)

Loosely based on Love, Rosie (2014).

Killian and Emma are best friends and neighbors. They've always been -- until he leaves for the Navy when his brother dies. When he comes back, nine months later, summer has begun and childhood is ending. Emma can tell something is changed in him, but she doesn't know what. Until she does. He's fallen in love with someone else.

And then, suddenly, they're kissing on her nineteenth birthday. When she asks him to forget their night out, and never talk about it again, Killian thinks she means to tell him she regrets the kiss they exchanged. Except she has no memory of it.

Killian and Emma will dance around each other, until their heads spin and their legs hurt, and everything becomes blurry and it has to stop – for both of their sake.

Title and lyrics are from Taylor Swift’s Mirrorball -- which clearly inspired the mood of this chapter. Had it on loop while writing, so if you feel like it, do try to listen to it while reading!

A huge thank you to @profdanglaisstuff who beta’d this and gave me her precious thoughts <3

Friends to Lovers - Mutual Pining - Angst - Fluff - 6000 words - ao3

Part 2 - AUGUST , Part 3 - HOAX, Part 4 - PEACE, Part 5 - THIS IS ME TRYING, Part 6 - CARDIGAN , Part 7 - INVISIBLE STRING

PART 1 - MIRRORBALL.

Emma clutches Ingrid’s yellow irises against her chest – almost too strongly, she might be bruising the inside of her fingers.

As she stares at the Arrival Board in front of her, she couldn’t care less for her own skin. The beat of her heart is drumming in her ears, and she is pretty certain oxygen is having a very hard time reaching her lungs.

Her right eyelid twitches. She wasn’t able to get any sleep last night, inhabited by a very childlike enthusiasm at the thought of seeing her friend again.

A breath of relief escapes Emma’s throat as the light next to Portsmouth changes color.

“He has landed,” she whispers to herself, flowers still pressed to her chest.

She is too engulfed in her surroundings to notice she’s damaging the flowers. Ingrid is definitely going to kill her for butchering her favorite bush. She doesn’t care.

He should be here any time now. Her heart skips another beat and really, it’ll be a miracle if she is still standing on her feet by the time he reaches her.

Gazing all around her, she suddenly notices the large window in front of her that gives away a blurry reflection of her body. Emma frowns. One hand reluctantly gives up on the flowers to comb her hair.

You’re combing your hair for Killian, of all people, snorts her inner voice. But Emma is too happy to pay attention to her pride.

He’s been gone for nine months now, since last September. Has been going all around the world with the Navy, and she is proud of him. He did the right thing. (Even it meant leaving her behind.)

Emma has never known what it feels like to miss someone before she missed him. Being brought up as a foster kid, she hasn’t had anyone to miss for the longest time.

She’s bouncing up and down on her feet by now, anxiety shaking her legs.

Ingrid welcomed her in Storybrooke on her twelfth birthday. It was the best thing that ever happened to her. It allowed her to meet the brothers Jones – their orphan neighbors. Liam became Killian’s legal guardian when their father died.

The crowd of people around her brings Emma back to the present. More people gather together, and Emma understands they are all just as eager to see their loved ones as she is.

She cannot wait anymore. Her palm hurt around the cut flowers. Another few minutes go by, and time is painfully slow. She clenches her jaw. Unclenches it. Takes a look at the clock in front of her. Come on, relax, Emma.

And then, there he is.

“Killian!” The excited scream escapes her throat without her consent, a brutal wave of bliss sweeping her off her feet. She doesn’t hold it back.

He hasn’t changed one bit, or he isn’t the same at all. She doesn’t care. She only cares for the sweet hue of blue that meets her eyes and smiles in recognition.

“Emma!” He mirrors her happy scream.

Her heart beams as they run towards each other, and she throws herself intohis arms as soon as she reaches him. (By then, the flowers are to be respectfully buried and missed.)

She wraps her arms around his neck, and her senses are filled by him – his smell, a strong cologne she isn’t familiar with, his skin under her fingers, his tousled black hair that is suddenly very kept, the beginning of a scruff against her cheeks, the strength of his arms around her chest, and when did he get this tall?

“I missed you,” she exhales against his cheek, and holds him tighter. She is very unwilling to let him go now that she has him.

She hears a chuckle against her ear, and it is the most wonderful sound she has heard in those last pitiful nine months.

“I missed you, too, Swan.”

A tear rolls down her cheek at the nickname – it’s been so long and her world has been so bleak without him and she’s never known this kind of homesickness – and she realizes just how wet her eyes have become. She’s never cried from happiness before, but tears are rushing down her cheeks without her consent.

His grip becomes tighter around her waist, and then he slowly lets go. She does not expect him to let go first. She profoundly inhales to chase down a feeling of fear deep within her throat and backs away, her hands still around his neck.

Staring at him after all this time seems to stir something really odd within herself and her breath gets caught in her chest. She didn’t remember him this handsome. Did his nose always look this elegant, and have his lips always been this bright pink, and why are his eyes the color of the sea?

And then she remembers the flowers crushed between her clumsy hands.

One finger tracing the scar on his cheek, she shoves the bouquet against his chest. “That’s for you,” she smiles and her fingers cannot seem to let go of his face.

“Swan,” his eyes are so kind over her gift, she can tell he is really happy about them, although their lives were cut short in their prime, “thank you so much. They are my fav—”

“—favorite, I know! That’s why I got them for you.” And she smiles, harder, her cheeks hurt but she cannot bring herself to stop.

She ignores as well as she can the alarm ringing in her head. Why is he not touching her? What’s wrong? Did she get ugly while he was away? He was always touching her, before.

“Aye,” he grins, and then relief – his palm is over her cheeks and something incredibly tender and innocent blooms in her chest. She sighs, leans in his touch. She’s missed him so much. “Shall we go, Swan?”

She picks up the bag he let go of to hold her while he very gracefully carries the flowers. Surely he wouldn’t have damaged them. Killian is very careful not to damage anything ever.

“Sure thing. Welcome home, Killian,” and before her arm finds his, she’s bold enough to press her lips against his scruffy cheek.

She lingers there longer than intended, longer than what is reasonable and appropriate.

The glint she catches in his eyes when she backs away triggers something painful in her. She swallows it down. (Why did he look embarrassed? There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. They are friends.)

But then, they are walking down the airport like old times, and surely she must be thinking too much – as per usual.

She is so glad to have him back, she ignores very meticulously all of the signs telling her Killian might not be as happy to be back. (To be with her.)

She’s holding a watering can while he delicately drops flowers – pink roses – on Liam’s tombstone. She watches him frown, fingers caressing the marble with care and something else – anger.

She swallows. This wound is still very fresh. It’s been a year.

She pours some water on the plant she brought last month – a gorgeous, bright pink bush of flowers, and she quickly puts it down on the grass to hold his hand.

His eyes flash in surprise and she offers him a smile – why is he surprised? Emma never liked to be touched before, before he touched her. She chases down the feeling once again and holds his fingers tighter in her hands. I am not letting you go.

The sun is shining. It’s such a bright summer day. The air is not too warm, just warm enough to feel comfortable wearing a t-shirt, and a gentle breeze that carries summer smells brushes their cheeks.

It was also a wonderful summer day – the day Liam died. Her brows furrow. Last summer had been the best weather they had had in Maine for years.

“He would be proud of you,” she whispers, desperate to make him feel better.

She is aware there is not much she can do to help him fight this darkness that swallowed him alive. She is still willing to try.

“Would he?” He echoes back, and she does not recognize the bitterness she hears in his voice.

For the first time since she has known Killian Jones, Emma feels like she’s missing something. A piece of the puzzle to understand him. She feels like perhaps she does not know him as well as she thinks.

She would have taken a step back with anyone else. But with him, she playfully bumps her shoulder against his, fighting back her inner instincts. He got tall, and bulkier – only in a good way.

“Of course. You joined the Navy to make him proud, didn’t you?”

For the first time in ages, she really is asking him a question.

He’s been back for a month now, and his scruff is prominent over his face. She likes it. He looks manly. She thinks he knows he looks manlier.

She still looks like a teenage girl, with her long blonde hair and her freckles and her frail body, and she still wears sneakers with her dresses (when she wears them). And he looks so much older.

“Aye, I guess so. Thank you, Swan,” he smiles at her, his hand brushing her cheek, but somehow he is miles away.

She presses her lips against each other, firmly. There are pebbles in her belly. He put them there.

“Anytime, Killian,” she smiles, and in a desperate attempt to bring him back to her, she presses another kiss to his cheek.

He steps away quicker than she expects him. A cold breath reaches her lips in spite of the agreeable weather.

Another smile. She’s suffocating.

“Okay, so then after dinner we could finally go to a club!” She’s standing in the middle of her room, arms swung up towards the ceiling of her childhood bedroom.

Killian is chewing on a strawberry bubblegum, lying on her bed. He hasn’t let go of his phone all afternoon.

“As you wish, Swan. It’s your birthday, after all.”

Can’t he look a bit more involved? A very childish anger burns her tongue as her hands find her hips in disapproval.

“Exactly! Which is why I’m going to ask you to look a little bit more enthusiastic, Killian Jones.”

She doesn’t mean to sound this harsh but she does anyway. At least, that gets him to look up from his phone, and she sees a glint of regret pass in his eyes. A smile finally cracks his face.

“You’re right, Swan. Forgive me. I’m just a bit concerned by something but don’t worry, I’m all ears now.”

She hates herself for how quickly she kneels in front of him, on her pink carpeted floor that she hates but Ingrid tried her best to make her feel at home.

Even more for the way she grabs his hands, pouring her soul into his eyes.

“I can tell you’re not really here, Killian.” She pauses, watches as he raises one eyebrow – it isn’t what she expected but it isn’t mean either, “And I want you to know there’s nothing you cannot tell me.”

She’s so naïve. She means every word.

He nods. Her eyes look down at his lips. She wants to kiss him. But she cannot – not when he’s still miles away from her, still stuck in Portsmouth.

“I know that, love,” something blooms in her chest. He hasn’t called her love in a year now, “Don’t worry, I’m quite alright.”

He lies. It’s the first time he’s lied to her about something important since she’s known him.

Fear captures her heart. It’s green, and viscous, and it drips on everything she holds dear.

He’s slipping between her fingers. She’s losing him. She cannot lose him.

She’s the one lying on his bed while he takes a shower when she sees her message. She doesn’t mean to, really. But his phone vibrates on his bedside table, and she only glances at it out of curiosity.

She sees it. M. Who is M?

She rolls on her belly, glances at the closed door of his bathroom, and reads the message, heart drumming in her ears.

“I know, baby. Rumple is driving me crazy too. But it will all be worth it, soon. I promise. Just hold on to our love.”

Something rings in her ears, it’s painful, it spreads from her liver and all the way up to her mouth, and she cannot see anymore, and her birthday is tomorrow and he is in love with someone else.

It takes her a lot of strength then, to roll back on her back, to try and make herself comfortable again between his pillows and his smell – in spite of the rigidity in her bones and this feeling of utter disgust in her mouth. She holds on to the silver bracelet around her wrist - the one Killian offered Emma for her eighteenth birthday, last year.

So many questions bounce in her mind, but one fact absolutely obliterates her. He doesn’t want to confide in her anymore. He is clearly struggling with this Rumple, and this M, and he doesn’t want her help.

The bathroom door swings open and steam invades his bedroom as he steps out, wet hair and big grin. She knows the grin will remain but will become a mere theatrical performance once he reads the message. She doesn’t want him to read it. She wants to keep him to herself.

“Ready for that ice-cream, Swan?” he attacks right away, all charms out. When did he get this charming? When did he become aware of his charms?

“Always ready for some rocky road,” she answers back, and she’s surprised to hear her own voice calm and collected.

Perhaps she is growing up, too. She used to be a terrible liar. But that’s what they do, now, apparently.

His smell fills her lungs, and it’s the one of her childhood – peppermint, and something muskier, and him.

“Emma, you won’t forget to take care of the garden –” exclaims Ingrid as they’re about to leave her ice-cream shop.

She squints her eyes. Fuck. Exactly what she wanted to avoid.

“Sure thing, Ingrid,” she mumbles, before taking Killian’s arm in her hers and guiding them both out of her shop.

Emma swallows a scream of injustice. That’s her punishment for stealing the flowers for Killian.

“Flowers are not meant to be picked. They’re meant to be cared for, admired, but not picked, Emma.”

Emma didn’t tell her what’s the use of having flowers if you cannot offer them to someone you love but she did stare at her with a lot of defiance.

Rocky Road has never tasted this wrong in her mouth, as they sit outside of Granny’s, on the warm concrete. It’s burning her naked thighs, but it still doesn’t suck as much as the way Killian stares at his phone – just like she expected him to. He’s waiting for M to answer him.

Emma wants to tell him he can confide in her but clearly he doesn’t want to. And it’s one of the strongest pain she’s ever felt – it’s a wicked, wicked pain that spreads from her heart to her pride and slays every inch of her good feelings.

She keeps licking her ice-cream, eyes locked to the road.

Her birthday is tomorrow. On the twenty-first, the first day of summer. She waits for summer all year, waits for the special moments she knows she’ll spend with Killian.

Only, this year, Killian doesn’t seem as happy to spend them with her.

Thankfully, Ingrid’s Rocky Road is still the best thing in town.

As she gets ready for her birthday party, Emma figures out she has nothing to lose. She decides to play all of her cards.

She’s staring at herself in the mirror while pop music plays in the background.

She hates her round cheeks and her slender body that refuses to give her the big chest boys seem to be so fond of. She’s frowning as she examines her features meticulously.

She usually doesn’t wear makeup, if not for a bit of mascara. It’s the only thing she’s comfortable with wearing on her face. As for her clothes, Emma is a jeans and sneakers kind of gal. Her only accessory is Killian's bracelet - and it doesn't count, because by now it is part of her.

She didn’t use to mind. It’s who she is. But since she’s seen M’s contact photo – she really didn’t mean to intrude, it just appeared when she tried to call him – Emma has become more self-conscious. (Terribly so).

M has long back curls and red lips, and she’s a woman. Not a girl like her. Her eyes are blue but they’re not timid, they shine sure and knowing and her smile is confident.

Emma hates her freckles. She looks like she’s twelve.

Tentatively, she brushes her blond eyebrows – just like she’s seen Ingrid do. It doesn’t make much of a difference and she muffles a dramatic sigh, frowning.

Killian will never find her pretty ever again.

That night, she also tip toes to Ingrid’s room to borrow some lady-like perfume. Emma only likes to use a very natural ginger fragrance – her smell but a bit better.

She winces. She hates the too-sweet, too-flowery smell that wraps itself around her body. Whatever. Killian must like that.

She’s nineteen tonight. The only teen year left of her life. She better make the most of it. (If Killian does not tell her about his mysterious girlfriend who’s far too beautiful for her to compete with, then she can’t really be doing something wrong, can she?)

She eyes the different dresses spread on the pink blanket of her bed. (Ingrid is very committed to pink.)

At her feet, the only pair of heels she could find in her wardrobe. They are small, black squared heels but really they’ll do the trick. They will have to at least.

Hands on her hips, she settles for the pink, light dress. It’s not her favorite color, but the fabric is very soft and fits her small waist like a glove. The lower part of the dress is flowy and ends well above her knees. Emma knows her legs are long and toned and she wants to show them off tonight.

To finish the look, she ties her hair in a high ponytail to get her hair off her face. Ingrid has always told her to.

As she eyes herself in her mirror, she thinks she looks pretty. She smiles at her reflection, her earrings glinting.

She glances at the big clock on her wall. 8:15. Killian should be here anytime, now.

Her heart beats faster, thinking of him.

She smiles, grabs her bag and goes down the stairs of Ingrid’s house. It already smells like dinner time, and it should comfort her, but it does not. She catches Ingrid’s surprised eyes in the kitchen.

“What do you think?” Emma asks, and it’s the first time she asks for Ingrid’s opinion on her appearance, but well –

Ingrid lets go of the tomato she is expertly cutting to stare at her. Her mouth slightly opens. And Emma swears she sees something very gentle sparkle in her green eyes.

“I think you look beautiful, Emma.” Ingrid’s smile is very tender over her figure, and something weird clenches Emma’s heart.

She simply smiles back. “Thanks, Ingrid. Don’t wait for me tonight, Killian and I are going to party!”

She almost runs to the door when she hears him knock. She tries to remain as composed and adult as possible, and instead calmly walk there. (Her feet are already killing her and her legs are stiff. This is going to be hell.)

She opens the door to discover him in a white shirt and black suit, and with a bouquet of yellow irises.

“Those ones I did not steal from Ingrid,” he smiles, his eyes glinting over her figure, and she could swear he likes what he sees, and her toes curl in her shoes and a very sweet heat invades her face, “Happy birthday, Emma,” he grins, and then she cannot hold herself back and wraps her arms around his neck.

She loves how her feet leave the floor for just a moment, as he spins her around, and she feels like they’re immortal.

“Thank you, Killian”, she murmurs against his cheek, presses a long kiss there, and intertwines their fingers together.

She thinks her crush is showing but really, as he glances at her body in her dress and climbs back to her face – a really lovely pink hue over his cheeks, and perhaps is pink not such a bad color – she doesn’t care.

She’s quick to put down the flowers on Ingrid’s kitchen counter, “Please take care of them!”, before disappearing in the night with her friend.

They pay all due respect to their Birthday tradition and go eat a grilled cheese at Granny’s. Granny’s give them a knowing look as they sit on the terrace outside. The old woman eyes Killian’s hand on the small of Emma’s back just as Emma feels it sending sparks up her spine.

They look like a couple, she’s sure of it, and the thought makes her feel giddy.

As they sit outside, by the lanterns and the Storybrooke sign, it feels like Killian never left.

“Remember when you were thirteen and I had to get you out of a bloody bin, Emma, just because you didn’t want to face Ingrid—”

“Hey!” Her scream isn’t really one and she’s waving an onion ring at him, “It’s my birthday, be nice to me.” And she rolls her eyes and he waggles his brows, and everything is right in the world.

His phone is still on the table, but face down. He is all eyes on her and she is very much pleased. (Even when it rings, once, twice, until Killian turns it off and she sighs in relief.)

“You’re very beautiful tonight, Swan,” he tells her as she finishes her grilled cheese.

And she hates him for saying so when her hands are wrapped around the greasy sandwich, and there’s probably cheese in the corners of her mouth, and strings of hair have fallen in front of her eyes – but she smiles.

“Thank you,” something warm and sunny blooms in her chest, “you’re not too bad yourself.”

She sees his eyes go wider, and she realizes he mustn’t have expected to say something back.

She keeps smiling. She feels an unfamiliar confidence take hold of her, straighten her spine and push her to grab his hand, on the table.

He glances at their knuckles but he doesn’t back away, and that must be good.

Finally, he waggles his brows and lets a small chuckle escape his lips. “Eat up, Swan. Before your favorite meal gets cold.”

She thinks then that she’s been touching him with her greasy fingers, and clearly that’s a mistake M wouldn’t have made, but… but he didn’t seem to mind. And his cheeks are red again. And that must be good, right?

They walk down to the only club in town – one down the beach. Storybrooke is a small town, but their fake IDs should be enough to get in.

Her feet are quite literally killing her, so when Killian offers that they walk in the sand instead, she happily complies. (She thinks he saw her suffering.)

It’s a full moon above them, and its reflection on the tender waves that come crashing at their feet is breathtaking. He is walking slightly ahead of her, but just now she doesn’t mind.

A sea breeze tangles her hair. She is happy.

“Hey, Swan,” he finally turns around to face her, and he is very handsome, and she realizes he has been carrying a plastic bottle in his bag. “Want some?” he asks her in a cheeky tone.

Her heart skips a beat in her chest. It’s not the first time Killian and she have gotten drunk together – and usually it ends with both of them asleep in one of their beds and a terrible headache the next morning.

(Killian’s always been her only true friend. Sure, she’s sympathized with Mary Margaret and Ruby at school – but they don’t get her like he does.)

“Hell yes,” she exclaims and stretches her hand to grab the bottle. “Cheaper to get drunk now than in the club.”

“Aye, that’s the spirit, Swan.”

She guesses he must have gotten drunk several times, this past year, without her. She figures he is grown up in all of the possible meanings of the word. It scares her, to think he’s going on without her. That’s he is already ahead of her, and she cannot quite catch up. She probably never will.

The bottle’s neck meets her lips, and it’s a pretty well done mix of vodka and fruit juice that she tastes against her tongue, and she wishes she were kissing him instead.

She takes several big gups, wincing as alcohol burns her throat and abandons a pleasing warmth in her chest.

“Careful, Swan. This isn’t only fruit juice.” She wipes her mouth as she hands him the bottle over.

“Oh come on, Killian. It’s my birthday, let me have some fun.”

She hates the concern she hears in his voice. He isn’t her big brother. She can take care of herself.

She watches as he drinks at his turn, watches as his Adam’s apple goes up and down. They used to be so similar, both of them all slender bodies, and now he is a man, and his shoulders are wide and his back strong, and she isn’t quite sure she is a woman yet.

She waits for him to put back the bottle in his bag and grabs his hand.

“Come on, let’s have some fun!”

And then she’s twirling around him, laughing brightly, and only stops when her body reminds her she just drank vodka and this will end badly if she keeps pushing her limits. Out of breath, she wraps her arms around his neck to settle herself, and his arms come to meet her waist.

The sea still whimpers behind them, but she only sees the soft waves in his eyes and the soft smile he dedicates to her.

There is a sparkle, in his gaze, a question at the tip of his tongue – but he will not ask it.

She wants him to.

Her fingers trace the shape of his jaw as she swallows, a small smile on her face.

“Dizzy, are we, Swan?” he asks her, and she realizes just how close their faces have gotten as his breath caresses her face.

She shakes her head. “Not dizzy at all. Happy.” She calmly exhales, licks her lips.

He will not kiss her. She wants him to. But he won’t. Because of her, she’s sure now. But, the night isn’t over.

He brushes a strand of hair behind her ear and steps back to let go. She misses the heat of his body immediately, can’t fight back the frown that takes over her features.

“I’m glad, Swan.” Why does he sound so mature? She hates it.

A childish anger shakes her heart and she feels cold. He left childhood behind and he didn’t bother to tell her he was leaving. He didn’t bother. And now she’s stuck in this weird limbo, not a child anymore but not an adult either, not really, not like M, and he isn’t with her anymore.

She shakes her head to chase her thoughts away.

“Right, let’s get in.”

It’s still pretty early, and there aren’t a lot of people queuing in front of The Forbidden Fruit (the name never fails to make her cringe). This allows Killian and Emma to display their fake ID’s quite quickly.

Killian plays the part awfully well, although they’ve downed the entire bottle of vodka before stepping in. Emma is very focused on not looking completely hammered, as Killian would put it. Girls get in easier, it’s a known fact.

The bouncer clearly knows they are underage but the forgeries are good. Killian got them done during his Navy year. And he is savagely challenging the tall, sturdy guy to prove those are fakes, one eyebrow raised.

How can he look this sober? It’s unfair.

“Fine, get in, kids,” mumbles the bouncer, and Emma is sober enough to muffle a scream of joy inside her palm.

Killian takes her hand in his as they enter the club. They let go of their bags in one corner – I’m not about to pay two dollars to have my stuff kept by people I don’t bloody know.

When they turn towards the dance floor, neon lights seize their eyes as pop music shakes the walls.

Killian turns to face her, smiling brightly. “Ready to party, Swan?”

She nods vigorously, her heart beaming. “Hell yes!”

He takes her hand again and it’s so easy to forget everything as they make their way between the swarm of young adults dancing. They swirl together, spin, fly some more. They are both soon panting and sweating but it does not keep them from continuing to jump around.

Emma thinks this is it, the great, terrible happiness she’s heard about her entire life. It must be this beat in her heart, this strong pulse of life inside of her, as Killian holds her hands and swings with her.

They dance for what seems to be only a few minutes – except almost an hour goes by – and Killian glances urgently at the watch on his wrist before pulling her towards him.

“Let’s go on the rooftop before midnight,” he yells into her ear, and it sounds like he’s whispering.

She nods again, smiling brightly, and presses a napkin against her forehead. She tries to catch her breath, stuck in some liminal space, but Killian is still very energetic and drags her along with him towards the stairs.

She finds her legs trembling under her weight and to be quite honest, the room might only be spinning in her head. He must feel her struggle because he turns to face her on reaching the stairs, and his hold is very firm on her hand as he secures his grip around her waist. She thinks she smiles then, and they climb up together.

“Since when do you hold your alcohol so well?” she asks, boldly, and it really isn’t the kind of question she would have asked had she been sober.

Purely because it echoes the year they spent apart. And they haven’t talked about it, at all. And she’d be damned before she opened up to him when he hasn’t opened up to her.

“Well, you’ve got to, in the Navy, love.” It’s the second time he’s called her love since he’s been back. Her heart smiles.

The vibrant sea breeze that welcomes them outside nearly swipes Emma off her feet. Or perhaps it is the vodka. Either way, it’s a plausible excuse to grab him again.

From the corner of her blurry vision, she sees Killian set a timer to midnight on his phone. It’s funny, how the music from the club sounds like a very muffled sound and the only thing she hears now is her own heartbeat.

She’s still out of breath. She inhales deeply, and then bows down to him. “May I have this dance?” she asks him, eyes shining with mischief.

He chuckles, and it’s a wonderful sound. “Anything for you, Swan.”

There must be some synchronicity in the universe because then a much gentler song resonates, and it sounds like her teenage years and she cannot believe childhood is already over.

They swirl together, his warm palm in hers, and her arm is wrapped around his neck, and he still smells good after all their dancing and it’s unfair. She hopes she doesn’t stink.

Another swirl, another turn, and she’s back in his arms again, and nothing ever felt this right. She thinks he must feel it, how well their bodies fit together, how easy it is to be together.

Before she knows it, she’s staring at his lips and she thinks he’s staring at hers too, and no air suddenly reaches her lungs and the timer rings painfully.

A smile spreads across his face. “Happy birthday, Emma.” He murmurs, says it with a lot of caution and care and affection and that other word she’s scared of.

She grins, brightly, vividly.

And then, she stands up on her tip-toes, and before they are both aware of it, she kisses him. Melts into his mouth, muffles a whisper of contentment against his lips, eyes firmly closed, just in case he pushes her away.

He doesn’t.

He kisses her back, his arms wrapping tightly around her, and she swears in that moment something explodes inside of her. She never believed in butterflies. She does now. A swarm has invaded her belly.

Her hands are in his hair, while his roam back and forth between her waist and her shoulder blades, and she cannot help but notice how expert his movements are against her body when she is still shaking with emotions.

And then he pulls back, and he’s all disheveled hair and rosy cheeks, and then, and then – she falls.

To the ground.

A ray of sunshine falls on her closed eyelids. When she wakes up, her hand is spread over her face and her mouth wide open. She groans, whimpers, groans some more and finally opens very hesitant eyes.

What the hell.

A terrible headache says hello to her. It isn’t fair.

The first thing she notices is Killian’s hand around her waist. In spite of the pain, that does make her smile. The next is that she isn’t home but in Killian’s childhood home (the one Liam and he inherited when they lost their father).

She slowly, very carefully, turns her face towards the nightstand. Of course. He left paracetamol and water there and a small note: “For my dearest idiot. Love, Killian”. It is set next to a picture of her and Killian, from middle school. She leans forward, tries her best not to wake him up in the process, and grabs the bottle. She drinks avidly, trying to hydrate the desert that is now her body.

A small chuckle echoes behind her. “You alright, Swan?” mumbles a voice, still very full of sleep.

She turns to face him, an apologetic smile on her lips. “Except for a ferocious headache, pretty good, yeah.”

He’s smiling at her, eyes still puffy and there is a very clear pillow mark in the middle of his forehead that makes him look like a wizard, and she swears he’s never smiled at her this way before.

And then shame circles her throat as memories come back to her mind.

She really made a show of herself last night, didn’t she? She hopes he doesn’t hate her.

She hands him the water bottle, and straightens her back in the bed to get some composure.

“Hey Killian?”

“Mmm?”

“Let’s forget all about last night, ‘kay? I was drunk and I’m sure I was awful...”

She hears him gulp loudly beside her. Her eyes twitch. Oh, it must be worse than she thought. Guilt swallows her. What has she done?

“All… all about it?” he repeats, and she swears his cheeks have become redder.

Her hands come to the blanket over her body, hold it tighter against her to protect her.

“Yeah, everything. I mean, it would have never happened if we hadn’t downed that damn vodka just the two of us.”

She tries to shrug it off, rolls her eyes really hard to seal the deal, but really, she is so ashamed.

He swallows beside her, frowns. “Alright Swan, if that is your wish, then I—”

“—Oh yeah,” she cuts him, and she’s throwing her legs out of the bed, “—I’m really sorry Killian, it won’t happen again.”

As he stares at her with what she thinks is some sort of judgement, the thought that she might be forgetting something does slip her mind.

But only for a few seconds, and then it’s gone forever.

#cs ff #cs fanfics #captain swan #friends to lovers #mutual pining #love rosie au #so there it is #i hope you guys will like this #please leave me your thoughts!!#my stuff

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let-it-raines · 4 years ago

Text

your wonder under summer skies (6/?)

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

rating: mature

a/n: I’m sorry for the delay. I’d hoped to have finished writing this story and then post pretty quickly, but personal life things have kept my mind other places. But hopefully you guys keep enjoying this story 💙

ao3: beginning | current

tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 |

-/-

Sand shifts beneath Killian’s feet as he runs along the shoreline. The tide hasn’t quite come in yet, the water just missing him as it wades onto the shore, but Skipper is getting soaked with salt water as he runs on his leash in front of Killian. He used to not have to put Skipper on a leash for their morning runs since no one else is on the beach at this time of the morning, but then the damn dog went and swam in the ocean only to get caught up in a rip tide.

So, leash it is even if it makes Killian run faster and harder than he ever intends to.

Bloody hell, his calves are absolutely on fire. He should have run along the boardwalk to save himself from this kind of pain.

“Skip,” Killian whistles. “Slow down, mate.”

The dog obviously doesn’t listen and keeps running, but Killian tugs on his leash until he pulls back, stopping and sitting down in the sand. He’s definitely going to have to be shaved later.

“Good boy,” Killian sighs as he finally catches up to him. “You want to head back home? Are you tired yet? I’m exhausted.”

Skipper barks and sticks out his tongue. Killian takes it as sign enough that it’s time to go home.

The sun begins to rise over the horizon on Killian’s walk home, and he slows his pace to watch the world be coated in shades of orange and pink that are like nothing he’s ever seen replicated. Milah used to try with her paintings. She was always so obsessed with the sun and the way it shaded things differently, and he’d catch her painting the same building over and over again with only the most minute differences. She was a bloody brilliant painter, too, and the more time that goes by, the more he wishes he’d been able to keep just one of her paintings.

He’d given them to her son.

Her son who deserved them much more that Killian ever did. His only hope is that they’re displayed instead of shoved in a supply closet or decaying in a landfill somewhere. Her family had been furious when they found out about him, and he doesn’t blame them.

He felt the same way.

Except Killian was the hidden boyfriend who was driving the car that killed Milah, and he wasn’t exactly welcomed by her family at the funeral. He’d always thought that she didn’t have family, that she had few people just like him, but she apparently had hordes of people in her life.

How can he still harbor love for her when she betrayed him?

When she’s the reason he hasn’t been able to commit himself to anyone since.

Well, there was Tink, but she was exactly the same as Milah in so many ways.

At least she didn’t help in giving him the scars that run up and down his arm and wrap around his hand so that there was a permanent physical reminder of her. She simply, well, sunrises don’t remind him of her in the way they remind him of Milah.

Skipper barks again, and Killian shakes himself out of it before continuing to walk up to the beach. Some of the cabana boys are already dragging out the lounge chair cushions to the beach, and Killian nods at them before turning at the boardwalk and making his way to the shop. He goes through the back door so that obnoxious bell won’t go off, and as soon as they get inside, Killian slips out of his shoes and takes Skipper’s leash off before quietly walking up the stairs.

The lights in the apartment are all still turned off, and Killian uses the dim light of the rising sun to find his way back to his bedroom. The only light in there is the brightness of Emma’s phone shining on her face.

“Why did you get up so early to run this morning?”

He pulls off his sweaty shirt and tosses it in his laundry bin. “I’ve got a full day. I’m down at the marina all day. Why? Did you want to come with?”

“I’m doing a spin class with Ruby tonight, but I do need to start running on the beach again. That is a hell of a workout.”

“You’re telling me. My calves are still on fire.”

Emma hums and keeps typing on her phone. What the hell is she writing this early in the morning? He didn’t even think she’d be awake, but he probably woke her up when he left. Damn. He thought he was being quiet.

“I’m going to take a shower. Do you need to take one?”

“I’m not showering with you, Jones.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

She drops her phone and raises her brow. “I’m sorry. You’re a man who doesn’t want to have shower sex? I think you may actually be a unicorn.”

“It’s a very small shower, love, and I don’t think my knees can take being on the tile. My legs are definitely too tired to have to hold you up.”

“I’m not complaining,” she laughs. “I’ve just never had this happen before. I feel like I need to document it. You can leave the shower on for me. I’ll hop in after.”

Killian raises his hand and salutes at Emma before stripping out of the rest of his clothes and walking into his bathroom. He closes the door behind him and turns on the shower, allowing it to heat up for a minute or two before stepping inside and letting the water pound against his back. It feels better than he imagined it could, and even with this, he knows he’s going to be beyond sore by this evening.

He easily could have stayed in bed with Emma this morning. He could have slept in, had some kind of drowsy, lazy morning sex, and then been on with his day without being sore.

Now that he thinks about it, that would have been the better option.

Then again, the two of them aren’t really wake up in the morning and have sex kind of people. It’s happened, but it almost feels outside of their deal. He’d like to stay inside the deal and within the guidelines of their rules as much as he possibly can.

It’s funny how easy it’s been to fall into this thing with her. It’s usually not like this when he starts sleeping with someone new. There’s a game to be played, no matter how much he’d sometimes rather not play it, but with Emma, it’s not like that. There’s no tip-toeing around each other or questioning motives, not anymore. It is what it is, and they’re both okay with that.

No games may be the most refreshing thing in the world.

Killian quickly scrubs himself down with soap and washes some shampoo in his hair before rinsing it all off. His bathroom door opens, and Emma walks through without a stitch of clothing on.

Bloody hell.

“You almost finished?” she asks, apparently without a care in the world that she’s nearly rendered him speechless.

And possibly changed his thoughts on shower sex, even if that would absolutely be the most uncomfortable thing in the world right now.

“It’s all yours, milady.” He slides open the glass door and grabs a towel while Emma slides by him and steps into the shower. “It may be a little hot.”

“It’s scorching. What is wrong with you?”

“Trying to relieve my sore muscles, love.”

“By burning your skin off?”

“It is not that hot.”

She rolls her eyes and grabs his shampoo bottle. He’s got to stop looking at her if he wants any hope of being able to get dressed comfortably.

“Do you have conditioner?”

Killian bends down and pulls out an old bottle that was left here. “This work?”

She reaches out and grabs it. “Do you have more of this?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Because whichever girl left this is my new favorite. This stuff is expensive, and I think I’ll be able to actually brush through my hair now.”

Killian scoffs and adjusts the towel around his waist. “What’s wrong with the stuff in the shower?”

“It’s awful. The fact that you have such good hair is amazing.”

Oh, well, if she’s going to compliment him, he can’t pass that opportunity up. He twists his head and gets in her eyeline, ignoring the way water is dripping off her breasts, and moves his brows up and down.

“Why, darling, who knew you had such a thing for my hair?”

Emma’s nose scrunches up. “Shut up.”

“No, no, I can’t let this go. Tell me, what else do you find attractive about me? I know there must be quite a list since you’ve decided to sleep with me on a regular basis.”

“Again, shut up.”

“Nope. I’m not letting this go now. You find me attractive, Swan, and believe it or not, I actually quite fancy you from time to time when you’re not yelling at me.”

“Don’t you have something to be doing?”

“I have nothing to do but stare at you.”

Emma’s laugh is louder than the spray of water, and he sees her shake her head before she goes back to washing her hair. Killian should shave this morning, but he can put that off until tomorrow when he’s not incredibly distracted by the naked woman showering next to him.

Killian brushes his teeth and dries his hair before walking out of the bathroom, leaving the door open for the steam to waft out, and he gets dressed for work. He’s still got hours until then, but if he puts joggers back on, he’ll not want to go. He knows the families who are coming in today for sailing lessons, and as much as he loves that part of the job, he does not want to deal with a group of twelve-year-old kids today.

The shower water keeps running, and Killian sees Emma out of the corner of his eyes before he opens his bedroom door and softly closes it behind him. The lights in the kitchen are on, and when he gets close enough, he sees Elsa standing over the stove with eggs in the pan. He didn’t even know she’d stayed over last night. He should be paying more attention to that. Then again, he doesn’t want Liam to know who he has staying over, so maybe it’s a good thing that they can quietly go about their business.

When Liam and Elsa get married, though, Killian hopes they either kick him out of here or move into Elsa’s place. He doesn’t know how much longer he can take living with Liam because of situations like this morning, but that’s not exactly an easy conversation to have.

“You making enough for everyone?” Killian asks.

Elsa twists around and smiles. “I’m making enough for me, but if you want some, that’s not a problem. Did you go running this morning?”

“Aye, and yes to the eggs, too.”

“That’s really early for you to go running. I didn’t even know you got up at that time.”

“Love, I almost never sleep in. The Navy will kill that habit before they do anything else.”

“Liam has managed to curb that, I think. That or he fakes sleeping in so I don’t feel lazy when I wake up later than him.”

“I think you may be onto his evil plans.”

She laughs again before plating the eggs in the pan and opening the carton next to her to crack open two more. “Oh, by the way, Emma is coming over this morning to help me with some wedding stuff. Anna is going to call in since that’s all really her cup of tea, but Emma is going to help get me a lower rate on one of the club venues. So, if you could go downstairs and unlock the door for her, that would be great.”

Killian swallows and grabs the plate of eggs from Elsa’s side, seasoning them and adding some cheese. “Isn’t that really more Mary Margaret’s department? The weddings, I mean.”

“Mary Margaret is more passionate about it, but they technically have the same job. Plus, Emma was free to meet me this early so we could talk to Anna at the same time.”

Killian accidentally shakes a little too much salt into his eggs. “When is Emma supposed to be here?”

“In about thirty minutes. Did I say you could have those eggs?”

Killian stuffs some overly salted eggs in his mouth. “I figured you’d want them while they were still hot, so I’d take the old ones.”

Elsa hums and nods. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Don’t I know it?”

Killian stuffs the eggs into his mouth, eating far more quickly than any normal human should, and he’s going to regret it later. But he needs to finish and run back into his room because Emma cannot come out this way if Elsa is in the kitchen.

“Did the water just turn off?”

“Hmm?”

“I thought I heard the water turning off, but I must be hearing things.”

Shit.

“I didn’t hear anything.” Killian puts his half-empty plate down. “These are really good, Els. I’ll be right back, yeah? I need to check my phone.”

She doesn’t say anything, and Killian quickly leaves before she can. He doesn’t know what they’re going to do. Elsa is in the kitchen cooking, and she always likes to eat on the sofa. He can’t exactly tell Elsa to go back to Liam’s bedroom so he can sneak Emma out of the house only to sneak her back in.

What the hell, Emma? Why did she even come over last night? Did she not think this through? They’re going to have to start thinking things through if they don’t want to get everyone else involved. That would be a disaster that neither of them know how to get out of with how nosy their friends are.

When he gets back to his room, Emma is still in the bathroom with her hair wrapped up in a towel as she brushes her teeth. At least he thought to buy her a toothbrush to keep here after last week when she tried to use his.

“Do you want to tell me why you thought it was a good idea to meet Elsa here this early in the morning?”

“Huh?” Emma spits into the sink. “What? Why do you – oh you have egg on your shirt, KJ.”

He looks down and flicks it off. How did that happen? “Swan, why did you stay here last night if you knew you were meeting Elsa this morning?”

“Because then I wouldn’t have to drive from my place?”

“What was your plan? Get up and leave only to come back in two seconds later?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“And what do you plan on doing now since Elsa is awake and sitting in the living room eating her breakfast? She’s not going to leave, and I don’t really see how you plan on getting out.”

Emma’s toothbrush drops to the sink. “Fuck.”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“You have to get her out of there. Get her to take Skipper on a walk or something.”

“She has plans to meet you. she won’t have time. Plus, she knows I already went on a run with him.”

“Shit. What am I supposed to do climb out your window?” Killian’s brow arches. Now that’s an idea. “No,” Emma starts, “no, no, no. This is the second floor. I’m not jumping down. What if I break something?”

“You’ll land on the sand, and you only have to drop about ten feet.”

It’s ridiculous, this idea, but he’s starting to think it might be the best one. Killian walks over to the set of windows in his room, opens one up, and looks down at the small ledge. His room drops directly down onto some sand with Liam’s bedroom and the living area completely out of sight, and as long as she doesn’t land terribly, she should be fine.

Yeah, just fine.

Emma’s stare switches between him and the window, but eventually she goes to grab all of her things, either putting them on or holding them in her hands, and makes her way toward the window. She tosses her shoes down first and then her purse. Finally, she climbs over the ledge of the window and looks back at him.

“Next time, we’re staying at my place or we don’t spend the night or something. I am not climbing out of a window for you again.”

“If I stay at your place, what am I going to do about Skipper?”

“Have Liam take care of him.”

“I can’t very well tell Liam I’m spending the night at your place because I’m shagging you, now can I?”

Emma’s eyes roll. “Your British is coming out. And, literally, Jones, just tell him you went home with a woman. It’s not a lie. It’s not the full truth, but it’s not a lie. Most importantly, it means I don’t have to jump from a window so I can talk to Elsa about price packages for her wedding.”

He hates to admit it, but she makes a good point.

They obviously are still working out all of the kinks in this arrangement since neither of them thought them through.

Idiots. The both of them.

“If I break something, you have to clean my apartment for me.”

“I will be happy to, love.”

“And you owe me lunch this week.”

“You can eat all of my extra crisps for the foreseeable future.”

Emma nods and hooks her leg over the window ledge. He hears her swallow, and then she’s climbing down and holding on to the window as she dangles from side of the building.

“You’re lucky that the sex is good, Jones. And that you do manage to entertain me with more than mediocre conversation.”

“There you go complimenting me again.” Killian flashes her a smile and winks. She is definitely going to try to murder him when she gets back up to this apartment. “I’m not the one who scheduled a meeting. This is technically all your fault.”

Emma doesn’t respond. Instead she looks down at the ground and then drops with a subtle thud. When Killian looks down, he sees her standing on her feet brushing the sand off her ass. That’s definitely going to be a devil tomorrow.

Killian chuckles to himself and then closes his window before heading back out of his room. He’s still got to unlock the shop for Emma. Maybe he should get her a key.

Wait, no. That would definitely be taking it too far.

“Your eggs are definitely cold now,” Elsa says as he walks through the living room where she’s now sitting with her food in front of her. His remaining eggs remain untouched next to hers. “I thought you were avoiding that.”

“No, I was avoiding that for you. I don’t actually mind because Skipper will eat leftovers anyway.”

“Where is Skipper?”

“He’s probably still wandering around downstairs. I’ll send him up when I unlock everything.”

When Killian finally gets to the front door, Emma is standing outside with her arms crossed over her chest and her lips pressed into a firm line. God, all he wants to do is laugh, but he does still want to live to see tomorrow.

“Good morning, milady,” Killian sighs. “I’m loving the look. Very natural. The use of sand is just…stunning.”

Okay, maybe he doesn’t want to live to see tomorrow.

“I hate you.”

“I know.”

“I am not doing that again.” “As long as you plan things a little better, you won’t have to.”

Emma huffs and brushes past him, but he reaches out and tugs on her wrist until she’s pulling back to him and standing with her hands pressed against his chest. He can see her freckles and the blonde of her eyelashes when she looks like this, and it reminds him of all the times they’ve gone out on the ocean or spent the day at the beach.

It reminds him of how close her lips are to his.

“You have sand in your hair, love.” He reaches up and picks a few pieces out, letting them fall to the ground before he tucks her hair back into place. “How did that happen?”

Emma’s lips part. “I don’t – I – ”

There’s a bark behind the two of them, and they quickly part as Skipper sticks his nose between the two of them.

“I need to go meet Elsa,” Emma finally says as she scratches behind Skip’s ears. “You want to come and talk weddings with us?”

“You know, love, I think I just might.”

“You sure? Anna is very into it, I’ve heard.” “Anna is very into everything. It’s part of her charm. This is also her actual job.”

“True. I’m just kind of here to help with finding them a date. They want it to be this summer.”

Killian mock gasps and walks with Emma. “So soon? Do you think my brother has been improper and gotten that nice girl pregnant?”

“I don’t know, but that’s the gossip around these parts.”

“However will they regain a good reputation? Do you think it will affect the business?”

“It might. You best prepare to be making less money.” “What the hell are the two of you talking about?” Elsa laughs as they walk into the apartment.

“Oh, just how Liam knocked you up and ruined your reputation.”

Elsa’s eyes roll. “I’m not pregnant, and we don’t live in the 1800s.”

“Still. Such a short engagement. People might get ideas.”

“You’re far too cheeky for it to be this early in the morning,” Elsa sighs. “Do you have sand on your jeans, Emma?”

Killian bites his tongue, but he still can’t hold in his chuckle. Emma reaches over to slap him, but she stops herself right before and places her hand on his shoulder before looking down at her jeans.

They are not smooth.

“Huh,” Emma sighs, “I guess that I do. It was windy this morning. It must have blown over on me. Is Liam joining us?”

“Yeah, he’s getting dressed. I honestly think he might be trying to avoid Anna.”

“Or me,” Emma mumbles so quietly Killian thinks only he hears it.

“What?” Elsa asks.

“Nothing, nothing,” Emma quickly corrects. “I’m going to fix myself some coffee and then we’ll get started. Do you have all your numbers?”

“On my phone, yeah.”

Skipper comes walking up the stairs and sniffs along Killian’s shoes before moving over to Elsa and settling down at her feet. The back bedroom door opens, and Liam walks out. Part of Killian wants to stay for this meeting, to get to know what exactly his brother and Elsa are going to plan for their wedding, but he also doesn’t want to be a witness for the cold shoulder Liam will inevitably give Emma. Killian’s never understood Liam’s problem with Emma, but hopefully the man can keep it together enough to not make some asinine remark when Emma is doing him a favor.

“Well,” Liam smiles, “are we all ready to plan a wedding?”

-/-

@qualitycoffeethings @mrtinski @klynn-stormz @scarletslippers @jonirobinson64 @snowbellewells @therealstartraveller776 @thejollyroger-writer @sherifemma @shardminds @captainsjedi @galaxyzxstark @galadriel26 @idristardis @karenfrommisthaven @teamhook @spartanguard @searchingwardrobes @itsfabianadocarmo @jamif @shireness-says @ultimiflos @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @onepunintendid @bluewildcatfanatic @superchocovian @killianswannn @carpedzem @captainkillianswanjones @mayquita @jennjenn615 @onceuponaprincessworld @a-faekindagirl @scientificapricot @xellewoods @ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @kmomof4 @tiganasummertree @singersdd @tornadoamy @cluttermind @lfh1226-linda @andiirivera @cluttermind

#your wonder under summer skies #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfic #captain swan

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welllpthisishappening · 4 years ago

Text

One Foot In (1/7)

The facts were these.

Killian Jones was dead. This much Emma knew, standing in the middle of the funeral parlor staring at him. What she didn’t know was why. Or how. Or what she would do when she touched him.

Because Emma Swan had a gift. Touch a dead thing once, bring it back to life. Touch it again, dead forever.

And the last thing Emma could do was bring Killian back to life, talk to him for the first time in years, only to watch him die all over again. Not when she’d spent the better part of those same years being in love with him.

-----

Rating: Teen, but with eventually kissing and magic-type magic Word Count: 9.3K this chapter. AN: Approximately two years ago, seriously, I got a message asking if I would ever be interested in writing a Pushing Daises AU. I was! So I wrote a little blurb and some more very nice people were like this is good, you should write more. I did. And then did...nothing with it. Until now. I’ve been hoarding this for long enough and I’m actually pretty proud of it and it’s got a whole bunch of some of my favorite things. There will be a lot of banter and more kissing than you probably expect if you’ve seen the show, and a lot of magic and magical explanations. If I have any talent writing banter it comes directly from watching Pushing Daisies, so hopefully I’ve done them well here. Also shoutout to @distant-rose for the Fathership.

Updates every Wednesday going forward, and if you’d like to be tagged let me know: @shireness-says @optomisticgirl @nikkiemms, @teamhook, @dayo488, @greymeetsblue, @jennjenn615, @heavenlyjoycastle, @klynn-stormz, @superchocovian, @onepunintendid, @jonesfandomfanatic, @lfh1226-linda

|| Also on Ao3 if that’s how you roll ||

-----

Emma Swan is nine years, six months, twelve days and, approximately, fifteen hours old when she realizes she is hopelessly, painfully, deliriously in love.

It’s not a particularly pleasant feeling.

Mostly because it happens suddenly, without much prompting and the object of her affection is currently spraying her in the face with the hose in his front yard.

She yelps, water catching on her eyelashes and strands of her hair, but he just grins at her, taking a step forward to make sure her clothes are drenched through. Ingrid is going to kill both of them. Emma can almost hear Liam laughing somewhere.

This, of course, is why she’s so frustrated by her sudden realization.

Emma has been standing on the Jones’ front lawn for as long as she can remember – directly opposite of her own front lawn and close enough that Ingrid can still yell for her to come home when dinner is ready. Or when there’s pie. There’s almost always pie.

Emma’s friendship with Killian Jones is not much more than happenstance and convenience. He lives across the street, with his brother in a great, big house with stained glass windows that paint the inside of the living room different colors when the sun sets. They met by mistake, Emma drawing with chalk at the end of the driveway and he was watering the lawn and dared to disturb her masterpiece.

She threw chalk at him.

It went from there. They talked and yelled and Emma may have stomped her foot more than once regarding the destroyed drawings, but Killian picks up the broken pieces of chalk and offers her one and they come up with a rather stunning visual of a futuristic outer space world with some kind of monorail system. The engineering is very impressive.

And they don’t ever really stop. They dart back and forth across the street for years, afternoons spent constructing spaceships out of cardboard boxes Liam brought home from work and evenings in the kitchen with Ingrid while she lets them test a new flavor of pie she’s experimenting with. They watch movies and celebrate birthdays and there’s a secret handshake because of course there’s a secret handshake, and Emma tells Killian she sometimes wonders what happened to her real parents and Killian tells Emma he’s scared Liam is going to disappear like his dad did.

She shouldn’t love him.

And yet, at nine years, six months, twelve days and, approximately, fifteen hours old, Killian Jones is quite possibly the most important person in Emma’s life.

Except Ingrid. Because she makes all that pie.

Killian is quiet – at least at first, soft-spoken words, but with a certainty that rings of clarity and confidence and it hadn’t taken long for him to grow a little bolder with Emma around. He laughs easier as the years go on, smile wide and, usually, only for her. His hair is almost always too long, dark strands that drift dangerously close to his eyebrows and a gaze that Emma also seems to covet.

She doesn’t realize that yet, because she’s nine and she doesn’t know what covet means, but, eventually, it will all make sense.

And eventually, she will regret not telling Killian Jones that he’s her best friend and she’s absolutely, positively in love with him.

But Emma is nine and she believes she’s got the rest of her life and the rest of Killian’s life and she hasn’t allowed a little thing like death to even begin to enter the back corners of her mind.

That will change soon.

“Killian Jones, I am going to murder you,” she shouts, lunging forward. He laughs even louder when her feet skid on the slick grass, a flash of blue eyes and that smile that, even then, Emma considers hers and hers alone.

“That’s not very nice, Swan. You’re the one who got in the way of all my work.” “Your work?” He nods seriously, as if he’s not directing the hose directly at her feet now and she’s going to have to throw these jeans away. They’ll never dry. “Did you not see that list of chores Liam left? Making sure the lawn wasn’t dry was one of them.” “It’s a lawn, how dry can it be?” “I didn’t ask.” “Didn’t you want to know?”

“Maybe,” Killian admits, flicking his wrist up to move the water so it hits Emma’s stomach and she gasps when some of the air gets knocked out of her. “But you came over here.” “And?” “And what? You’re here aren’t you?”

It’s impossible for Emma to realize what exactly that question means in the moment, but she’s also just realized she’s in love with Killian, so her heart does a fairly good job of attempting to beat its way out of her chest.

He drops the hose.

“You could have told me you had stuff to do.”

“But you were here,” he says again, as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world. It kind of is. She can’t remember a single time he told her to leave.

Even when she was the new kid in school – after she and Ingrid first moved to Storybrooke and Emma heard the whispers because she didn’t have real parents and no mom to make her lunch, but Killian just bumped his shoulder against hers and flashed her half a smile. He held her hand when they walked into school.

Killian never cared about cooties.

Or anything except Emma.

“Yeah,” Emma mumbles. She digs her toes into the mud under her, the soft squelch of it almost matching up with the erratic rhythm of her pulse. “Well…”

He practically beams.

And Emma isn’t sure what’s going to happen next because she’s never encountered a moment quite like this, but she can hear Liam’s footsteps and grumblings about the state of the lawn and— “Killian, if you’re just going to stand around all day...” he starts, but his eyes dart towards Emma as soon as she moves her foot again and the look on his face is unreadable. Particularly to a nine-year-old coming to terms with the idea of first love. “Oh,” Liam says. “Hey, Emma, I didn’t know you were here.” She shrugs. “I was going to ride my bike, but then Killian thought he was funny.” Liam’s expression changes again, more emotions Emma is not nearly old enough to understand or deal with, but it will, eventually, be that kind of day. At the moment, however, it’s sunny and there are a few clouds in the sky. The perfect day to race down the hill on the other side of town.

“How many times in a row have you beat Killian?” Liam asks knowingly, and Emma laughs before she can continue to consider whatever he’s doing with his face.

“Forty seven.” “Oh, that’s not true, at all,” Killian shouts, ducking down to grab the hose again. Liam’s quicker than him, though grabbing him around the waist and pinning him against his chest. “God, Liam, let go of me!”

“Nah, little brother—” “—Younger brother!” “Semantics.” “Stop trying to show off!”

Emma is still laughing, her sides feeling as if they’ll split from the force of it. Killian scowls at her when she doesn’t come to his immediate aid, but her eyes dart back towards Liam. He nods. And it only takes a few moments for Killian to realize what’s going to happen, more flailing limbs and shouted protests.

“Swan, Swan, Swan,” he chants, a nickname that isn’t really a nickname, but might be his in the way the smile is hers and Emma shakes her head when she grabs the water hose. “Don’t do that, that’s not even fair!” “I know it’s not,” she says. “But you were being a great, big giant jerk before and Ingrid’s going to be mad my jeans are all muddy.” “You should have dodged better then!” “Ah, c’mon now, little brother,” Liam chastises, still holding him around the waist and he’s probably bruised from Killian’s elbows. “That’s not hospitable at all. Emma’s a guest in our front lawn and you went and ruined her whole outfit.” Killian groans, but the sound turns into a yelp as soon as the water hits his feet and he realizes how cold it is. Emma widens her eyes. “Swan is not a guest,” he argues.

Emma briefly wonders if her eyes can actually fall out of her face. It feels as if they’re about to, that particular proclamation ricocheting around her brain and her subconscious until she’s certain it’s the only words she’ll ever hear again.

Killian blinks when Emma doesn’t say anything – or move the hose away from his feet. “You haven’t beaten me down the hill forty-seven times,” he mutters. “That’s the biggest lie you’ve ever told.”

She sticks her tongue out at him.

And sprays him directly in the chest.

There’s no way to really avoid Liam in this, but he doesn’t seem to mind, more laughter and tangled limbs, Killian’s hair sticking to his forehead and the shell of his left ear when Emma moves the water again. And for a few seconds Emma thinks she’s winning whatever unspoken battle they’ve staged here, but Killian’s always been a little shifty and and he turns quickly enough that he’s able to sneak out of Liam’s grasp.

He moves towards her quicker than she’s ready for, tugging the hose out of her hands with an almost triumphant noise.

“You’ve got to be faster than that, Swan,” Killian grins, waving the hose through the air until it feels as if Emma’s standing in a rainstorm.

“You are the worst!” “Tell the truth about the hill!” “I am,” Emma yells, sniffling when the water threatens to find its way up her nose. “Oh, my God, I’m going to kill you!” Killian shakes his head, dodging what Emma thought was a particularly well-placed kick at his ankles. “No, you’re not. You like me way too much to kill me.” “That’s not true.” The words feel heavy on her tongue, despite the laughter still clinging to Killian’s voice and Liam’s rather pitiful attempts to get back on his feet after falling in the mud. Emma swallows, desperate to understand what is happening in the pit of her stomach, but Killian doesn’t look away from her.

He keeps staring and the water keeps running, slowing slightly because they’re probably emptying the Storybrooke reservoir at this point.

“I don’t know about that, Swan,” Killian says, leaning towards her. Emma gets the distinct impression he doesn’t mean to do that.

“Liar, liar.” “I’m not the one lying. Forty seven? That’s impossible.” “If you think you’re winning, you should have been keeping better track.”

That catches him by surprise, a quick bark of laughter and water splashing on Emma’s shin when he jerks his hand to the side. “Sorry, sorry,” Killian mumbles when he notices the look on her face. “That one really wasn’t on purpose.” “Yuh huh.” “Swan.” Emma rolls her eyes, the sarcasm obvious in his voice and the half a smile on his face. Liam has finally stood up. “How many times do you think we’ve raced down the hill?” she presses, moving forward to push her finger into his water-soaked shirt.

That gets him to blink.

She takes that as another victory.

“Way more than forty seven,” Killian answers. “And I win most of the time.” Emma stamps her foot – which gives Killian just enough time to wrap his own fingers around her wrist, pulling her hand away from him and pinning it against her side and the water is absolutely getting colder when he holds the hose directly above her head.

“Say it’s not forty seven,” he laughs. Emma shakes her head, pressing her lips together tightly as if she’s refusing to give federal testimony.

Liam appears to have given up on even trying to salvage the situation.

“It’s not forty seven, Swan,” Killian continues. “I’ll give you...maybe thirty two, tops.” “Nope.” “Thirty five?” “I have beaten you down that hill forty seven times Killian Jones and that’s only in the last year since I started keeping track.” “You’ve only been keeping track for the last year?” “You never kept track to begin with!” “She’s got a point, little brother,” Liam muses. He’s sitting on the far side of the lawn now, doing something that may actually be pulling weeds and no one could have taken better care of that house than Liam did.

“Oh, shut up,” Killian grumbles. He snaps his head back towards Emma, mouth twisted and eyes slightly narrowed. “Alright, so you started counting this year. I’ll give you that you’ve won most of the races, but I demand a recount for the rest of the summer.” Emma scoffs. “No way. You’re only mad because you didn’t know you were losing and—” “—And you were playing a game I didn’t know we were playing, Swan. So, either you agree to the terms or we keep up this...whatever we’re doing.” “You being a jerk,” she mumbles, and that time her kick lands on his ankle. Killian lets out a gasp of pain, expression shifting slightly and they’re both drenched, water falling from their clothes and their hair and everything feels slightly heavier than it had a few moments before.

It’s not a feeling that belongs in summer vacation.

Killian hums, the tips of his ears going red and Emma learned that particular tell when she was seven and he tried to tell Liam he hadn’t gotten in trouble for fighting with that kid on the playground. The kid on the playground had been making fun of Emma’s distinct lack of parents.

“Forty seven though?” he asks. “Really?” “Really, really,” Emma promises. “But I’m...we could start a new count. If you want.”

“Yeah?” “We’ve got all summer, right?” “And forever,” Killian says with a shrug, another string of words that seems to take up residence in every corner of Emma’s brain and she feels her lips part slightly. It’s her body’s natural reaction to try and keep breathing.

She’s stopped breathing at some point.

And someone else is calling her name.

“Emma Swan,” Ingrid yells, leaning out the front door of the house across the street and the smell of lemon meringue is already obvious. “If you are done destroying all your clothes, then I think it’s time for you to come back over here and eat some lunch!”

Emma’s shoulders sag with the weight of her disappointment – an overreaction in the moment, but eventually it will seem like the most reasonable thing she’s ever done. “Do I have to?” “In twenty-four seconds or less.” “Fine,” Emma sighs. She glances back at Killian before she turns towards home, the smile still on his face and a piece of hair seemingly stuck to his forehead. He waves a dismissive hand through the air at the interruption, as if they do have all the time in the world.

“I’ve got to help Liam anyway. But, uh...after? We could…” “There’s pie,” Emma finishes sharply. “I mean...it smells like pie? You could come over and then we could go.” “Ok.”

Liam makes a ridiculous noise a few feet away – disbelieving and adult and Emma ignores it because she’s nine and cutting into her twenty-four seconds of travel time across the street. “Emma,” Ingrid calls again. “Now!”

“Right, right, right, I’m coming. But…” She glances at Killian and she’s not sure why she feels like she has to make sure, but it feels important and—

“I’ll see you later, Swan,” he says. “I’m sorry about your jeans.”

“That’s ok.” Ingrid is shaking the screen door now. “Emma!”

“Ok, ok! I’ll see you later.”

Ingrid takes one look at the state of her as soon as she gets across the street, lets out a knowing laugh and mumbles something that sounds a lot like we should just buy new clothes every week under her breath. “Go upstairs and try and get some of the mud out of your toes before you drag it across the entire house, ok?” Emma nods, a blur of water-logged fabric and muddy footprints. She’s in the bathroom when she hears it, only a few moments later and nothing has really changed, but it suddenly feels as if everything has been flipped upside down, and Emma cannot possibly be expected to keep up with all of these emotions. Or sounds.

It’s a crash — loud and jarring and then absolute, overwhelming silence.

She freezes, heart sputtering in her chest and it’s impossible to know how she knows, but Emma knows and something is wrong.

She hadn’t gotten around to doing anything about her jeans, sprinting back down the stairs and skidding into the kitchen and Ingrid is lying on the tiled ground, the pie splayed out around her when she dropped it.

“Ingrid,” Emma whispers, knowing it’s pointless. She doesn’t know how she knows that either, but that appears to be the theme of the day and the step she takes forward is alarmingly shaky. “Ingrid,” she repeats. “Are you…”

She can’t bring herself to finish that sentence.

It’s obvious anyway.

Ingrid is dead.

Emma exhales, tears in her eyes and disbelief churning in the pit of her stomach where, just a few moments ago, there were butterflies and the certainty that everything was going to be alright forever and ever.

She tilts her head, as if that will change the scene in front of her and the combined scent of lemon and drying mud is particularly disgusting.

“Ingrid?” Emma repeats, moving towards her as if there are magnets and supernatural forces involved. There are. It’ll just take a moment for her to realize that.

Dropping to her knees, she ignores the pain that shoots up both her legs when she lands on the floor and Emma doesn’t ever actually cry. The tears are there, but they don’t spill over onto her cheeks. They stay in her eyes and, possibly, her soul and eventually that will feel like a very large sign.

With neon lights and sound effects.

In the moment though, it’s just another thing in an increasingly thing-filled situation and part of her wants to call for Killian. Most of her wants to call for Killian.

But Emma’s mouth doesn’t appear to be working anymore, breathing a very particular challenge and Ingrid isn’t her mom. Ingrid isn’t even her officially adopted mom yet, that’s a work in progress and Emma’s fairly certain Liam did something that may help and there were suits involved and Killian stayed at their house that day while Ingrid baked something.

Emma inhales sharply through her nose, Ingrid’s eyes already a little glazed over and staring at absolutely nothing and, if asked, she would have no idea why she does what she does next. Reaching out a finger, she pokes Ingrid in the shoulder, fingertip just barely skimming her skin.

Ingrid blinks, exactly, three times and sits up as normal as ever.

She’s very clearly breathing.

Emma might not be. And she’s worried about the state of her eyes again.

“Did you get mud in here?” Ingrid asks, like that’s an entirely reasonable question and Emma is still frozen. Her mind can’t keep up with the moment or the feelings coursing through her veins, a mix of terror and surprise and happiness, plus whatever she may still be feeling for Killian and she still wishes Killian were in the kitchen with her. “Must have slipped,” Ingrid continues. She shakes her head, clearly unaware of what just happened and Emma is still doing her best to keep breathing. The pain in her side makes it clear it’s not working very well.

“Emma,” Ingrid says lightly, leaning close enough that Emma jerks away out of instinct. That will eventually prove important. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. What’s wrong, sweetheart?” “Nothing,” Emma mumbles. The word comes out far too quickly though, less a word than just a jumble of syllables and—”I just...heard you fall.” “Because of the mud. Did you not even change your clothes yet?” Emma shakes her head. Her throat feels far too small and far too big, all at the same time. “No, I…” “Well, go back upstairs and make sure you wash behind your ears and—” Ingrid glances around, grabbing a handful of plastic bags and pushing them into Emma’s chest. Her fingers never touch Emma. “Just throw them in here. I think we’ve moved past salvageable on that front. I swear, the messes you and that Jones boy get into should be documented for—”

It annoys Emma that no one will finish their sentences.

But the timer on the oven dings, wholly unnecessary given the pie that’s still on the kitchen floor and Emma’s annoyance ebbs as soon as she hears the first shout. That’s not the right word. It’s less of a shout and more like absolute and complete anguish.

Her head snaps towards the open window, the same one that looks directly onto the Jones’ front lawn and she can barely make out the top of Killian’s hair. He’s kneeling on the ground, clearly not worried about the state of his jeans or the mud that’s likely working its way into the fibers, gripping something.

It takes Emma exactly two seconds, one gasp and three blinks to realize what he’s holding — Liam, dead.

The tears that land on her cheek feel like brands, hot and emotional and she’s moving before she realizes, dashing around Ingrid and across the street. A car honks at her when she runs in front of it, but Emma doesn’t slow down and Killian’s still yelling and Liam is very obviously dead.

He looks just like Ingrid.

Or just like Ingrid did before Emma touched her.

Because Emma touched Ingrid back to life.

“I don’t know what happened,” Killian stammers, eyes already rimmed red and the shake in his voice seems to rattle down Emma’s spine. “He was there and it was fine and then I...he wasn’t and he just...he fell over and it was…”

He lets out another choked sob, falling towards Emma’s shoulders like those pesky magnets are involved again and the only thought in her head is to hold onto him, like she’s trying to keep him there. Permanently.

She’s got no idea how long they stay there, and it’s impossible to tell Killian’s tears from the rest of the water in Emma’s shirt. She can hear Ingrid on the phone, quiet and slightly frantic and the ambulance arrives twenty minutes later.

There’s no explanation.

It makes no sense. Because Liam Jones was young and healthy and fully capable of keeping his brother pinned to his side so Emma could point the hose directly at his feet. A dead Liam Jones makes no sense.

And Emma doesn’t say much for the rest of the day, just keeps staring ahead and trying to breath, her fingers laced with Killian’s for however many hours it takes for his uncles to show up.

“Killian,” a man yells. He jogs up the front steps of the porch, an oversized coat hanging off his shoulders and something that may be several earrings glittering under the street lights.

Emma dimly remembers Ingrid tearing through Liam’s paperwork that afternoon, trying to find someone to come watch Killian — and the result is two uncles, one named Nemo and the other Shakespeare, who’d spent most of their lives as part of a traveling acting troupe. They’re eccentric in a way that's fascinating at any time, let alone one that includes a dead Liam Jones, but Killian rushes towards the man who called his name.

His whole body shakes with the force of his tears.

And, for the first time since she moved to Storybrooke, Emma feels out of place sitting on that side of the street, not sure she understands the weight of wrong that seems intent on dragging her into the Earth.

“It’s alright, my boy, it’s alright,” the man continues. He barely pays any attention to Emma when she moves, but the other one, wearing his own ridiculous coat that looks like it came directly from the Navy, casts her a speculative glance.

She tries to smile.

She does. But it’s been a seemingly endless day and they never rode their bikes down the hill.

Emma can’t believe she’s worried about riding her bike down the hill.

“I think it’s about time you got some rest, huh?” Ingrid asks. She’s standing in the doorframe, apron still tied around her waist from that afternoon, but it doesn’t smell like pie in the house.

It smells like mud and ending and Emma is tired. That must be it.

She nods, and for a few minutes it’s normal and almost good and the lingering taste of toothpaste in her mouth as she climbs into bed is almost comforting. But then it’s Ingrid stepping into her room and tugging the blankets up under her chin and the kiss she places on Emma’s forehead will linger for years.

It’s the last thing she ever does.

Ingrid kisses Emma and her whole body goes taut, eyes getting that same glazed look as she falls directly onto her back.

Emma doesn’t gasp.

She blinks, opening her mouth and leaning over the side of the bed like this is one, long practical joke. Ingrid doesn’t move. And Emma has had enough experience with dead bodies in the last twelve hours to realize she’s facing her third.

Or, well, second. Technically.

“Ingrid,” Emma whispers, not expecting an answer, but frustrated all the same. She reaches her hand out, pushing and prodding and touching and none of it works. She uses two fingers and three, tries punching Ingrid’s shoulder, but nothing happens.

Ingrid is dead.

And Emma runs – directly across the street.

The Navy man opens the door, a little starling with dark eyes and shaved head, but Emma can feel the tears on her cheeks again, shoulders shaking with the effort of running and figuring out what’s going on and he doesn’t object when she falls towards him. He wraps his arms around her middle and lets her cry.

The rest is a whirlwind of phone calls and suitcases and arrangements that Emma is not capable of making. The state, however, is more than happy to do just that – a car set to pick her up after the funeral that will bring her to a group home in a different state and promises that everything will be fine, but Emma doesn’t trust much of anything anymore, particularly after Ingrid was alive. Again.

And then dead. Again.

None of it makes sense.

But that’s for a different moment and a different day to understand and in this moment Emma can’t help but keep glancing across the cemetery towards Killian, fidgeting in a suit with splotchy cheeks and shoes she knows don’t fit.

He nods towards the patch of grass in between the two services, hand stuffed in his pocket. His tie is slightly off center.

The state had to buy Emma a black dress.

“You’re leaving,” Killian whispers, not a question, but a statement of fact and Emma’s neck aches when she nods in response.

“I’ll be back.” “I don’t want you to leave.” “I don’t want to either. I’m...I’m sorry.” Killian tilts his head, confusion settling into the space between his eyebrows. “Why?”

Emma doesn’t have an answer to that. She has suspicions. And she’ll figure them out later, but right then, nine years, six months, fifteen days and, approximately, ten hours old, Emma Swan only has the certainty that she loves Killian Jones more than anything in the world and she doesn’t want to walk away from him.

So she takes a step forward.

As first kisses go, it’s probably not the greatest. There are two funerals happening and those suspicions lingering in the back of Emma’s mind make the air around her feel heavy, but she’s only a little certain she won’t ever be back and the rest of the reasons don’t matter.

She tilts her head up, a quick brush of her lips over Killian’s. He doesn’t pull back, but it’s nothing more than that, until his thumb brushes over the curve of Emma’s cheek, catching a tear on the pad and the smile he gives her when she pulls back echoes in her memories for the next twenty years.

“Ms. Swan,” a state official says brusquely and it must be time.

She nods another, still shaky and uncomfortable, but that may just be the state of her lungs and the ability of either one of her legs to hold up her weight. Killian hasn’t moved his thumb. He doesn’t appear to want to.

“I’m going to see you again,” he says, a promise Emma tries desperately to believe. It doesn’t work, the guilt and the weight in the very center of her is too big and too much and nothing has made sense, so it only makes sense that she doesn’t respond.

She will, eventually, regret that.

Because Emma Swan doesn’t ever see Killian Jones again.

At least not while they’re both alive.

Emma wakes with a start, glancing around her room like she’ll see several different ghosts spying on her. It feels that way, has for the last three days when she first started having these dreams and really the whole thing can fuck right off.

It hasn’t happened in years – nightmares about that day and that night and how cold Ingrid looked when the EMTs carried her out of the house, the same ones who’d showed up for Liam.

The irony of that was not lost on a grown-up Emma.

Because a grown-up Emma was also a vaguely jaded Emma and she stopped having nightmares about Killian Jones and death years ago.

Her subconscious does not seem to care.

Her subconscious seems intent on driving her insane.

Emma never went back to Storybrooke. She left with that state worker, lips still tingling from a first kiss that in retrospect would have been adorable if there wasn’t so much goddamn death involved, but Emma barely had time to linger on that thought before she was shipped to the first of nearly a dozen group homes and foster homes and less-than-pleasant foster families.

It went on that way for years nothing permanent and everything disappointing and Emma has kept a fairly wide berth between herself and lingering human contact. Because, well, here’s the thing; Emma Swan is not exactly normal.

In that she’s decidedly unnormal.

As unnormal as it is possible to be.

Because Emma Swan can wake the dead.

And kill them again.

It takes Emma three houses and one birthday without anyone acknowledging it is her birthday to grow disillusioned enough that it somehow makes sense to start conducting a few macabre science experiments. She’d always had her suspicions after that night and things that timed up too well to be coincidence and Emma starts with a dead bird she finds on the side of the road.

It’s gross.

The whole thing is gross, but she can’t shake this feeling that something is wrong with her, some fundamental issue that makes her unlovable and unfixable and she’s got to do something or she’s positive she’s going to shake herself out of her own skin.

So she starts with the bird and it flies away and something else falls out of a tree and it might be a raccoon, but Emma’s never seen a raccoon. So, she doesn’t spend too long thinking about it before she runs away.

And the houses keep coming and the experiments keep being...gross and Emma realizes, when she’s twelve years, ten months, sixteen days and nine hours old, that there are some rules to all of this.

They’re relatively simple, but they’re unbreakable.

Touch a dead thing once, it comes back to life. Touch it again, dead, forever. Keep a dead thing alive for more than one minute and something else has to die in its place.

It’s then that twelve-year-old Emma realizes magic never comes for free. There’s always some kind of price. And she never looks for Killian Jones.

She never goes back home.

She moves – house to house and family to family, in name at least, until she ages out of the system and scrapes together enough money waitressing to pay the rent on the shoebox of an apartment she can live in. She moves out of that apartment eventually too.

The concept of roots kind of freaks Emma out.

Everything kind of freaks Emma out.

She assumes it’s because she’s wrong.

At, like, the most basic level.

She does a good job of hiding it. Most of the time. She’s grown up and the years have passed, as the years have a tendency to do, and she’d saved up enough from those first few waitressing jobs that it only makes sense to open up her own restaurant and Emma may hate roots, but she’s still kind of a sentimental loser and her restaurant is on the other side of the county from Storybrooke and only serves pie.

Damn good pie, but only pie.

It’s kitschy. It kind of balances out all the death in her life.

Emma shakes her head, still sitting upright in bed and she’d left the TV in the corner of the room the night before. The news is on now, some perfectly coiffed broadcaster talking about a murder victim and reward for any information and Emma mutters a curse under her breath because she knows it’s only a matter of time until—

Her ringtone is loud enough that she’s momentarily concerned about the effect it will have on her wallpaper.

Ruby is already talking by the time Emma swipes her thumb over the phone screen.

“Em, Em, Em, Em, where are you? Are you home? Are you at work? Are you on your way to your very short commute from your home to your work?” “Are you breathing?” “No, this is more important than breathing.”

Emma slumps into the small mound of pillows behind her. There is only one thing Ruby would consider more important than breathing – money.

The story of how Emma Swan meets Ruby Lucas is fraught with miscues and miscreants, but the important thing is that a perp Ruby was chasing over the goddamn top of buildings missed a step and suddenly fell directly into the alley behind Emma’s restaurant.

Where she was taking the garbage out.

He died rather instantly. And then...was less dead once he slammed his hand on Emma’s forearm. All of which Ruby saw.

Emma managed to swat at his head before he took off back down the block, but the damage was done as they say. Not Ruby. Obviously. She claims it was fate and meant to be and, well, it’s much easier for a private investigator to figure out who killed murder victims when she’s got a partner who can wake them up and ask them.

“What’s the gig?” Emma asks, mostly because sometimes she likes to use the wrong lingo on purpose if only to get Ruby to make that put-upon sigh. It works.

“That doesn’t make any sense at all.” “Listen, Rubes, I’ve got, just like, a ton of mail order...orders waiting for me, so if this is going to take several thousand years then…” “Did you just call them mail order orders?” “That makes sense.” “Ehhhhh.” “Give me a break, I literally woke up five minutes before you called.” Ruby doesn’t sigh at that. She doesn’t say anything. That’s more concerning. “You just woke up?” she asks, a note of concern in her voice that probably shouldn’t feel as if it affects several of Emma’s internal organs. “Was...more weird dreams?” Emma makes a noncommittal noise – mostly to save face and partly because she’s been incredibly vague with Ruby about the dreams, only mentioning them when her partner pointed out how dead tired she looked during a trip to the morgue earlier this week. Ruby thought she was far funnier than she was.

“Emma,” Ruby chides, drawing out her name until it feels like a reprimand and punishment. “C’mon, seriously. What are you even dreaming about?” “Nothing.” “Is your eye twitching?” “Excuse me?” “Your eye twitches when you lie,” Ruby says. “Like every single time. It may be your most giving tell, honestly.” “How many tells do you think I have?” “I know you have, at least, five. The eye twitch is the most obvious, but sometimes you play with your hair and you scrunch your nose. Plus that foot bobbing thing and, uh...that’s four, right?” Emma makes another noise, eyes flitting back towards the TV and she can’t shake the feeling she should know something about whatever the story is. “Damn,” Ruby huffs. “I can’t think of the last one. You know what, it doesn’t matter. You’re trying to distract me and it’s not working.” “Did it not?” Emma laughs.

“No. Kind of. But no. Listen to me, do you want to get paid or not?” “I thought we already talked about all the mail order orders I have. There are just...a questionable number of rotten strawberries in my walk-in.” “It’s weird that you use rotten fruit.” Emma shrugs. And tugs her hair over her shoulder. “Cheaper that way,” she explains, not for the first time. “Plus, it’s not like I’m eating my own pie.” “Can’t have your pie and eat it too?”

“I don’t think that’s the colloquialism you were looking for. And you’re still getting sidetracked. Does this have something to do with the body they’re talking about on the news?”

“If the body on the news is offering a five-figure reward for any information regarding his untimely demise.” Emma doesn’t usually react to Ruby’s blunt viewpoint of the world and its numerous dead bodies, but she can’t suppress the shiver that moves her body when she hears his and something is wrong.

“His? And did you say five figures?”

Ruby hums, sounding as if she’s already decided what to do with her share. “His. I promise that is the least interesting part. The interesting part is that he was found out by the old quarry on the other side of the county, you know right near the bottom of the—”

“Hill,” Emma finishes. “The bottom of the hill. That’s…” Her vision swims, memories and moments attacking from every angle until she has to glance at her arms to make sure she’s not sporting inexplicable bruises from the past. She’s not.

Magic only goes so far, it seems.

“Yeah,” Ruby says, confusion obvious in all four letters. “That’s exactly right. They say it looked pretty bad. Some kind of something gone wrong, but the town isn’t happy about it and they don’t like the limelight and the allusions that they’re a hotbed for murder so I guess the mayor’s offered up a bunch of money and—” “—What was the guy’s name?” “What?” “The guy,” Emma repeats, and her voice scratches on the words. “You said it was a guy right? At the bottom of the hill? In Storybrooke?” Silence.

There’s silence on the other end of the phone.

And Emma’s head snaps back towards the TV when they finish their report because services for the deceased are being held tomorrow and— “His name’s, well, it was, I guess, his name was Killian Jones,” Ruby says, and Emma doesn’t really hear the rest of it.

She barely realizes she’s agreed to any of this until the local news ends, switches over to even crappier daytime programming and Emma has no idea how she gets through the day. She bakes. That’s kind of her thing.

She bakes and comes up with ridiculous recipes and flavor combinations and the customers are happy and Ruby announces I’ll see you tomorrow when she slams the door closed behind her nearly ten hours after it feels as if the world has ended.

Killian Jones is dead.

And Emma can’t seem to catch her breath.

Ruby’s standing outside her car the next morning, two cups of coffee in her hand and an expectant smile on her face. “Your eye is twitching,” she says conversationally, handing Emma what better be a latte. It’s not.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Sure I don’t. I’m just paid to observe and critique—” “—No one is paying you to critique.” “Whatever,” Ruby shrugs, swinging open the passenger side door of Emma’s car. “Why the face about this place?” “I will tell you it’s less threatening when you rhyme.” Ruby scowls. “That was not intentional and mostly the fault of the limits of the English language. You lived there at one point, didn’t you?”

“Were you looking me up last night?” Emma balks, and her hand is shaking so hard it’s difficult to move the gear shift.

“Please, don’t insult me like that. I looked you up as soon as I met you.” Emma jerks her head around, only to find Ruby grinning at her like several metaphorical cats. “Then why the third degree?” “There are no degrees here. There’s friendly curiosity, particularly when it comes to the state of your body and your ability to do what we’re going here to do.” “I’m fine.” The lie is honestly almost offensive. Emma made sixteen pies the day before. One had five different kinds of berries in it. She tested a new crust recipe she’s been thinking about for years.

Literally. Years.

She’s so stressed out she’s not sure she even shut her eyes the night before.

And that’s not the right word at all.

She’s goodman terrified.

She can’t believe Killian is dead.

Ruby throws her whole head back when she laughs, the sound filling the entire car and lingering on air molecules. “God, that was horrible,” she mutters. “Ok, let’s try it again. You know this guy?” “Small town.” “Not an answer.” “I knew him.” “In a personal sense?”

“Oh my God, Ruby,” Emma groans, and she can’t slump down in the seat while she’s driving. It’s definitely the most unfortunate thing that’s happened to her all day. She can’t imagine that will stay the same going forward. “I left Storybrooke when I was nine!”

“Yuh huh, yuh huh, yuh huh. Ok. So...what is it, childhood sweetheart?” “You know me better than that.” “I thought I did until I saw the explosion in your kitchen yesterday and now I’m starting to think you and our body were a little—” “—Can we not call him a body,” Emma snaps, knuckles going white when she grips the steering wheel too tight.

Ruby blinks. “Still sweet on him?”

“I was nine.” “That’s not an answer.” “No,” Emma says, and she doesn’t expect that to hurt nearly as much as it does. That’s insane. This whole thing is insane. She wrote down conversational ideas for her sixty seconds with Killian somewhere around four in the morning.

Every one was worse than the last.

“No?” Ruby echoes. “You should tell that to your right arm.” Emma groans, not taking her eyes off the road because she can feel her arm shaking against her side. Her elbow keeps digging into her rib. “This is going to be fine,” Emma mumbles. Ruby does not look convinced.

That’s probably for the best since Emma can’t control her limbs – or her mind.

And she might not be nine years old anymore, but she’s fairly certain part of her never really stopped loving Killian Jones and the rest of her never forgot Killian Jones and they don’t hit any traffic on their way to Storybrooke.

She figures that’s some kind of sign.

They come up with some excuse for the funeral director – a portly man Emma doesn’t recognize who doesn’t recognize Emma because she hasn’t been in Storybrooke in nearly twenty years – and he directs them towards the viewing parlor.

The whole thing is sterile and unfeeling and Emma keeps exhaling dramatically.

“They think he was into some shady stuff you know,” the man says, voice dropping low like he’s sharing secrets with them. Ruby arches an eyebrow.

“That so?” “Oh yeah, yeah, very messy crime scene. Guess he came out on the short end.” Emma's stomach turns, mouth dropping open. “And no one else was found there? Just Kill—Mr. Jones? He was the only victim?” “You think the police are hiding more dead bodies?” “That’s not what I said.” “What she means,” Ruby says, stepping in between the two of them before Emma can throw the first punch, “is that it seems strange that there would be a sign of struggle and nothing else. No other evidence of other people around?” The funeral director does not look impressed. “That’s not my area,” he shrugs. “All I know is there’s a reward and the mayor’s going crazy trying to keep the cameras out of here and the kid’s uncles are besides themselves.” Emma has to count to ten in her head to make sure her exhale doesn’t fly out of her. Ruby’s gaze flashes her direction. “Right,” she says. “Well, if you don’t mind…”

There are a few more words exchanged – and possibly a few well-placed bills, but Emma ignores all of that, taking in the scene and there’s an actual sign at the far end of the room.

In Loving Memory of Killian Jones.

Emma drags her hand over her face, blinking back whatever has suddenly appeared in her eyes and she resolutely refuses to believe they’re tears.

She can’t believe he’s dead.

“Em,” Ruby calls. “We’re uh...we’ve only got a couple minutes here.”

Emma nods brusquely, avoiding the slightly accusatory stare of the funeral director and—”What if I did this on my own?”

“What?” “My own. Just...there’s, you know, years and a familiarity there and he’s...well, it may be weird to wake him up and stun him like that.” Ruby’s eyebrows set several different records for height and movement. “You think we’re going to stun him? And did you say wake him up? He’s not asleep, Em.” “I know, I know, but...just...I think this is for the best.” “Yuh huh.” “You keep saying that.” “That’s because I can’t figure out another string of words to use in this situation. You know you can’t stay in there long.” “I know.” “You’ve got sixty seconds to figure out who killed this guy.”

Emma shivers. And Ruby notices. Always. Perpetually. Infuriatingly. “I know,” Emma says again. “Trust me, it’s...I’ll be in and out and we’ll be collecting money in no time.” “Announce that a little louder.” Emma sighs, Ruby staring at her like she’s taking stock or emotional inventory. It seems to last forever and Emma does her best to keep her breathing even when Ruby leans around her to open the viewing room door.

“Sixty seconds,” she repeats. “That’s it.” “Aye aye.”

The door sounds impossibly loud when it closes behind Emma, another sound that makes her jump and sigh and she’s an absolute disaster. Or at least she thought she was until she turned and saw the coffin and then it feels a little like melting and a bit like freezing and it’s a strange combination, particularly when she’s also fairly certain her lungs have disappeared entirely.

She squeezes her eyes closed, desperate for some trace of confidence or courage. It’s disappointing when she can’t find any.

“C’mon, Swan,” she mumbles, half to herself and half to the person on the other side of the room because that’s exactly what the person on the other side of the room would say to her.

Emma takes a step forward, wobbly at best and petrified at worst, lifting the coffin lid, and her lungs reappear in a miracle of modern science as soon as her eyes land on him.

“Oh,” Emma breathes, and that’s about all there is to it.

He’s wearing a suit, hair even longer than it was when he was ten years old. It curls slightly, just behind his ears, and there’s a dusting of scruff on his face. His hand is folded over his chest, only one hand, making his jacket twist slightly and Emma feels as if her throat is closing.

He’s got an earring in one ear.

It makes her laugh.

“Oh my God,” Emma mumbles. “You look like a pirate.”

She closes her eyes again when he doesn’t answer – she refuses to acknowledge why he doesn’t answer, but she’s got a job and justice needs to be served or something. Ruby probably has several dozen new pairs of shoes she’s already preordered.

Bobbing on her feet as soon as she’s within arms-length of the coffin, Emma shimmies her shoulders, like that will help shake free the nerves clinging to the base of her spine. Her lips feel far too dry, breathing far too erratic, but she’s on limited time and she’s got to touch him.

She’s got no idea where to touch him.

She scans his face, trying to find a spot that isn’t too forward or too weird and her eyes land on the scar on his cheek – a souvenir of a race down the hill and faulty brakes and Liam had been white as a sheet when they came home with Emma’s blood-stained sweatshirt pressed against Killian’s cheek.

“Ok,” she nods, and talking to herself is definitely a sign of impending insanity, but she kind of hopes she’s already gone insane and—

He moves far quicker than she expected.

Emma’s no more than brushed her fingertips over the curve of his cheek than he’s throwing his arm out in the minimal space between them, his wrist colliding painfully with her stomach. She stumbles backwards, barely keeping her balance and mumbling a string of curses under her breath and when she looks up he’s brandishing a chair at her.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Killian shouts, and Emma does her best to quiet him without taking a rogue chair to the side of her legs.

“Listen, listen, listen. Do you remember when you were a kid there was a girl who lived across the street from you?” He doesn’t immediately put the chair down. He licks his lips instead. And the tips of his ears go red. “Swan?”

Emma nods, ignoring the lump of everything in the back of her throat at her sound of her own name. “Hi.” “Hi? Did you just say hi? What are you doing here?” “I’m uh...how much do you remember of, like, the last seventy-two hours?” Killian makes a face, an expression that does something particular to Emma’s heart and soul and whatever, tilting his head and his eyes widen when he notices the coffin he just leapt out of. “Oh, shit. Is that…” “Yeah,” Emma says. “So, uh. I don’t have a lot of time here.” “How much time is not a lot of time? God, are you some kind of angel? Is that what’s happening? Because if that’s what’s happening, then that’s a really twisted trick to show me you when I’m dead and—” “—No, no, I’m really here.” She ignores most of that sentence too. She’ll have the rest of her life to linger on what those words, maybe, mean. “But, um, we’re wasting time.” “To?” “Have you tell me who killed you.” Killian blinks – far too quickly to be anything except entirely distracting, and Emma wishes he wouldn’t because she’d really like to see his eyes and she’s almost pleased to realize her memories of his eyes have remained perfect for the last two decades. “Are you a cop?”

“No, but, Killian, you’re really cutting into your time here. It’s like...twenty seconds now.” “What?” “Killian!” His answering smile is blinding. That’s the only word Emma can come up with. It makes her breath catch and her shoulders sag, as if all the worries and fears and anxieties of the world have disappeared. At least for a moment.

“It’s really good to see you, Swan,” he says, taking a step towards her and Emma backs up on instinct. That gives him, visible, pause. “I don’t know who killed me.” “What?” “I have no idea who killed me. It was an arrangement and—that’s not important, but I don’t know how it happened. I think I had a dream about some kind of blade but—” He cuts himself off when he twists the wrong way, gritting his teeth when his gaze falls on the blunt end of his left arm. “Holy shit,” Killian mumbles. “That’s...shit did I bleed out somewhere?”

“I don’t know,” Emma admits. “That’s why I’m here.” “To find out why I died?” She nods. “And you’re not an angel?” She shakes her head. “Huh, well I’m sorry to disappoint, Swan, but I’ve got no idea. Does that send me directly to hell or something?” “I’m really not an angel.” Killian hums, rocking towards her and ignoring whatever Emma’s eyes do at that. “So, uh...what happens now? I was dead, wasn’t I?” “Yeah. Um...well, I have to touch you and you’ll be dead again.” “You have to touch me?” “Them’s the rules.” He chuckles, the smile on his face her smile and Emma’s a greedy jerk. She wrings her hands together. That’s probably the fifth tell. “You know,” she mutters. “When I was a kid...I was...you were my first kiss.” “Yeah?” “Yeah.” “You were my first kiss too,” Killian says. “And you’ve got to touch me so I die again?” “Please don’t say it like that.” There’s more laughter and they’re definitely in the final seconds and Emma tilts her head up as soon as Killian’s incredibly shiny dress shoes threaten to brush against her flats. “No better way to go out then to go out kissing, huh?” “Oh my God.” “Admit it, Swan, that was funny.” “It was not.” “You’re arguing with a dead man.” She rolls her eyes, but her stomach doesn’t get the memo about jokes and humor and Killian mumbles hey under his breath. “Missed the mark, didn’t I? You don’t…” His ears are still tinged red, a hand reaching behind his back to tug at the hair at the nape of his neck. “It’s not a requirement, Swan. The kissing, I mean. Just felt...symmetrical.” “You were always way better at math than me.” Killian grins. “So?”

And for half a breath, Emma is going to do it. She’s going to kiss him and it’ll be something, in some kind of way that may result in a complete and total mental breakdown, because Killian’s already leaning towards her and she really can’t cope with the cut of that suit, but that seems a little morbid too and Emma pulls her lips back behind her teeth.

“Ah,” Killian says, a note of disappointment in his voice that does not make sense for a man who’s standing a few feet away from his own coffin. “That’s fine, Swan.”

He’s called her Swan more in the last forty-five seconds than he did in the last forty-five days they saw each other.

Emma’s not totally convinced he isn’t doing it on purpose.

“What if...you didn’t have to be dead?” Killian scoffs. “That’d be ideal, honestly. Is that an option?”

The objection sits heavy on Emma’s tongue, the certainty that the rules are the rules and there’s no way to break them, but he’s standing there and smiling at her and she takes a step back before she can consider anything except how much she wants Killian Jones to be alive.

With her.

Emma hears the timer on her phone go off. Her sixty seconds are up. And Killian Jones is still alive, smiling at her.

#cs ff #captain swan #cs #captain swan ff #cs fic #one foot in #i did not remember this being so long #although humble brag #this may be some of the best banter i've written

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mayquita · 4 years ago

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Damn You For Making Me Love You (15/15) - Epilogue / Don’t Stop Believing

That's it, this is the end. Or maybe not? I must confess that my idea for the epilogue was slightly different, but I was running out of time, so I had no choice but to present this alternative ending. Despite this, I think it works. Also, that will allow me to continue exploring this universe because I intend to write that ending. I don't know when, but I will. I'm determined.

One last note. The scene of the last performance is entirely inspired by a movie. In case you don't get it I'll reveal it at the end. In the meantime, enjoy the reading.

Thank you very much for joining me on this adventure during these last weeks.

Beta-Reader: Thank you so much, @ultraluckycatnd I couldn’t have asked for a better beta. Thank you for all your effort, your suggestions, your advice and for always being there when I needed you.

Special mention to @saraswans and @onceuponaprincessworld, thank you so much for your perpetual support and for believing in me and in the story. Thank you again to the moderators of the event, @captainswanbigbang for giving us this opportunity and making this possible. You all are the best :)

Summary: Emma Swan and Killian Jones are close friends and co-workers. And both are in love with each other. The problem? They keep their feelings secret not only to the other but also to the rest of their friends. When Elsa, Emma’s best friend and Liam, Killian’s brother and Emma’s boss find out, they decide to form an alliance and work as a team with a clear goal, to get Emma and Killian to take the next step in their relationship and confess their love for each other.

Rating: M

Word count: ~ 6700 (98k total in 15 chapters)

Ao3 / FFnet

Epilogue - Don’t Stop Believing

Liam - January 4, 2020

Liam couldn't stop smiling. It was as if, after their little getaway and his little — big — discoveries in the cabin, a permanent smile had settled on his lips. He had several reasons to do it, really. On the one hand, his brother and Emma had finally decided to give themselves a chance, leaving behind their fears and embracing their feelings. On the other hand, the acceptance of his feelings towards Elsa — and the fact that they were reciprocated — had led him to a state of almost continuous contentment.

There was no better way to start the year, honestly.

Speaking of Elsa... Liam looked up, directing his gaze towards the entrance of the Kraken. She was late. Since their return last Wednesday, they hadn't seen each other as much as he would have liked; not for lack of interest, but because of their respective responsibilities. But they had agreed to meet at the bar today, something not surprising since Elsa hadn't missed any of Killian's performances in the past few weeks. She wasn't going to miss it today either, of course, since it would be the first time Killian and Emma not only seemed to be a couple on stage, but were a couple in real life.

"She will be here soon." Emma's unexpected voice startled him while she came to stand beside him. "She texted us a couple of minutes ago. She was already on her way."

Liam turned his head to look at Emma, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Elsa hadn't sent him any text at all. He had checked his phone just a minute before. It was the use of the word us that finally gave him the clue to identify what Emma meant.

Elsa had sent a text to the group chat, where Killian, Emma, Kristoff, and Anna were also included. And Liam had silenced the damn chat the day before. "I didn't notice," he muttered, looking away, suddenly interested in ordering the glasses in the compartment under the counter.

"You haven't read it." It wasn't a question, but rather an affirmation. Emma's voice denoted no reproach, but curiosity. Fortunately, a customer approached the bar to order a drink so, after giving Liam one last skeptical glance, Emma moved away from him so he could serve the drinks.

Liam had his reasons for silencing the chat.

Emma and Killian were the ones to blame, in fact. Accepting their feelings and acting on them hadn't changed their behavior. Liam felt grateful for it, truly, but since last Wednesday, Emma had practically settled in their apartment, which meant that he had become a witness to their constant public displays of affection everywhere. They had always been present between them after all, but now they had acquired a level far from innocent or casual.

On top of that, their banter and almost perpetual bickering were still intact. It was frankly exhausting, especially when their teasing was also transferred to the texts they exchanged in the group chat. When he read an argument between them about something as banal as what they would have for lunch the next day, he had enough.

Now he just had to deal with them in person. Constantly.

For the next few minutes, he became distracted by serving and chatting with customers, his gaze instinctively heading from time to time towards the entrance. Elsa still didn't appear, something that was beginning to cause some concern in him. Not because of the fact that something had happened to her, but rather because the ghost of insecurity threatened to appear. What if she had thought better? What if…

"Stop worrying, she's coming." Again Emma's voice startled him. What's wrong with me today? He was an almost forty-year-old adult, not a bloody teenager with his first crush, for God's sake. Emma must have noticed his unease, because she immediately added, "Can you accompany me to the back room? I need to grab something."

It was an obvious excuse, he could tell. His lips pressed together, drawing a grateful smile, while he nodded. After telling Robin to cover him for a few minutes, he walked with Emma to the back room, to —he supposed —have a little chat with some privacy in a much quieter place.

Emma started talking the moment the door closed behind them. "You know, these past few days have been a little crazy. We've barely had time to talk, and..." She paused for a moment, offering him a smile full of affection. "I wanted to tell you that I can't be happier for you and Elsa. You more than anyone deserve to be happy and I'm so glad you found each other."

A wave of affection for Emma washed over him, while a warm sensation ran through his veins up to his heart. "We're still in the beginning, lass, trying to figure out our relationship. But I'm happy, very happy."

"Good," she said before melting into a tight hug with him to which Liam responded with pleasure. The affection he had for Emma went beyond words. He loved her in the most fraternal form of the word, as if she were his little sister. No matter what happened between Emma and Killian in the future, she would always occupy a special place in his heart.

"I'm also very happy for you two, Emma," he muttered against her hair. "My brother is so damn lucky to have found someone like you. I couldn't have thought of someone more suitable for him. You are perfect for each other." In response, Emma tightened her hug, burying her face in his chest. "You are better together."

"I wanted to... thank you, for acting behind our backs, for pushing us together," Emma confessed with a trembling voice after separating from him a little. Liam noticed her watery eyes and a lonely tear sliding down her cheek. He brushed her skin delicately, wiping away the tear and earning an adorable smile on her part. "These last weeks have been amazing; not only because I've been able to spend more time with Killian, which has led me to accept my feelings definitively, but because I’ve spent so much time with both of you guys. I love to share experiences with you."

"Good, although I must say that your fights are a bit exhausting, honestly." Emma made a sound, half laughing half snorting, causing him to grin. "But I love you both anyway. Besides, I should be used to it, right?"

"I love you too. And yes, you better get used to it, because I don't think we're going to act differently any time soon. It's one of the things I like the best about your brother, how he challenges me and how he fights back."

"I suspect that Killian thinks the same about you."

"He better."

They broke up laughing in unison. It was a liberating laugh, which served to lighten the mood after the previous moment full of emotions. Once the laughs subsided, she gave him one last smile of affection and turned in the direction of the door. But she had barely walked a couple of steps when she approached him again.

"I'll tell you a secret," Emma whispered in his ear. "You are my second favorite person," she confessed and then placed a soft kiss on his cheek before separating again. "And you better hurry out, because I'm sure your current favorite person is already waiting for you." After winking at him, she finally left the room, leaving him with a feeling of bliss that he hoped would last for a long time. Emma was someone so special to him that he hoped to have her in his life forever. He suspected that wouldn't be a problem — if it depended on his brother.

Indeed, Elsa was already waiting, sitting on her usual stool, the one that seemed to have her name written on it. The feeling of contentment increased the moment his eyes fell on her beautiful face, the butterflies of his stomach flapping furiously while all his previous doubts dissipated as he contemplated the adorable smile she gave him when their eyes met.

He hurried to her and, without thinking, pressed his lips to hers in a brief kiss, one with the ability to shake him inside. He had already started to get used to that delicious sensation, something he hoped wouldn't fade with time since he had no intention of stopping kissing that woman.

"I can't believe it!" Ruby's unexpected voice beside him interrupted them momentarily. "What the hell happened in that cabin now that nobody seems to stop kissing?"

Although Ruby's voice denoted surprise and a bit of annoyance, her funny expression said something different. "You better get used to it, Rubes," he simply added, his lips drawing a wide grin.

Ruby rolled her eyes, but then offered a wolfish smile. "You should definitely change the name of the bar and use The Ship of Love instead, or something like that."

"You can always suggest it to Emma. After all, she is the advertising expert."

"I think I'll pass," Ruby replied with a dismissive wave of her hand. She wrinkled her nose and then her lips curled into a wicked grin. "She's very busy lately, eating your brother's face." Liam heard Elsa snorting while he himself couldn't stop a chuckle from bubbling in his throat. Ruby was right. "Anyway, I'm happy for you guys. Really." After offering them one last smile she left to attend a customer.

Once alone, he returned his attention to Elsa. "Hi," he greeted her, pressing a peck on her lips. "I missed you."

"Sorry I was late. I had a last-minute meeting. We're organizing a winter festival with the girls," she explained, offering him an apologetic smile.

His heart swelled with pride towards her. Her ice skating talent was undeniable, as was her ability to transmit her knowledge. The fact that she worked mostly with children only increased his admiration for her. "No need for apologies, love," he assured her, as he grabbed two glasses and placed them on the counter. "The usual, I take it?"

"I'm not sure. I'm still a VIP client?"

Before answering, he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the counter and invading her personal space. "You can be sure, lass. You currently occupy the top. At least on my list." Liam secretly admired how her cheeks colored with a soft pink shade as she averted her gaze whenever he offered her some compliment. He had no intention of stopping any time soon, not only hoping to keep that reaction in her, but because the compliments seemed to flow naturally. He had definitely fallen hard for that incredible woman.

"Very much appreciated. That's one of the reasons why The Kraken has become my favorite bar, the customer treatment. Well, and also that the owner, or should I say the Captain, is quite handsome and charming."

This time it was his turn to blush while his heart made a small somersault. Gods ! It was as if he had traveled back in time and had become a teenager again. He resisted the urge to kiss her again — since he was the boss and was currently in his workplace, he should set an example for his employees — instead opting to offer her a smile of appreciation accompanied by a slight bow of his head. He then poured the liquid into the two glasses, offering one of them to her and holding the other in his raised hand.

"I want to make a toast because right now I feel like the luckiest man in the world. With you."

The gaze she gave him was so intense that it had the ability to melt the most frozen heart. "I think we have someone to blame about it, right?" Elsa suggested before putting the glass to her lips and then ingested the liquid in a gesture that was too distracting. After leaving the empty glass on the counter she looked at her watch and then looked up, her gaze wandering around as if she were looking for something. "Where are the two lovebirds, by the way?"

Liam also looked around, surprised not to see either of them, considering that Killian's performance was about to begin. He exchanged a look with Elsa as he shrugged and was going to offer to go look for them when he noticed that Elsa's expression changed as she directed her gaze to a spot above his shoulder.

He turned his head following the direction of her gaze, meeting Killian and Emma who looked like they had just left his office, since Killian was already carrying the guitar. They obviously had performed some other activity inside the room, though. At least if their flushed cheeks, Killian's disheveled hair and the flustered expression on both faces were an indication. Liam let out a huff while shaking his head. Those two were impossible.

"I guess they're making up for the lost time," Elsa offered through a soft smile as if reading his mind.

"So it seems. But I'm afraid they'll have to be apart at least for a while. I'll be right back. I'm gonna introduce Killian," he said with a wink before going to look for the two idiots in love.

The concert was proving to be a total success. Whatever happened in his office, it hadn't affected Killian at all. On the contrary, he seemed more inspired than ever, his presence on the stage more prominent, his smile more charming, his voice more powerful and tuned. There was something that hadn't changed, though. His attention was focused on a single person, someone who kept taking pictures of him as if he were the only person around her.

When Killian's solo performance was about to end, Liam came out from behind the bar, approaching Elsa and offering his hand. They walked through the crowd until they found Emma, who briefly hugged her friend before giving her the camera. The three of them turned their attention back to the stage, waiting for Emma's introduction by Killian.

"Thank you very much to everyone. You are the best audience one can dream of!" Killian shouted as he made a gesture of applause addressed to the public, which only increased the cheers towards him. "And now if you’ll allow me, the stellar moment of the night is about to start; the moment when someone very special to me will accompany me on stage." Killian then looked at Emma, the expression of pure devotion to her written all over his face. "I ask you to give the best applause you can to welcome my particular angel, the incredibly talented and beautiful Emma Swan!"

Liam watched as Killian approached the side of the stage where Emma would appear, holding out his hand to her when she arrived. They walked together to the center of the stage, both sporting the same expression of happiness. When they were in position, Emma nodded almost imperceptibly to his brother and then began to sing, without looking away from Killian.

Just a small town girl Livin' in a lonely world She took the midnight train goin' anywhere

Then it was Killian's turn. Liam would never have anticipated what happened next. After singing his first verse, Killian played the first chords with his guitar and then they merged into a passionate, brief, kiss right there in the middle of the stage, causing the entire audience to roar around them. These two know how to rile up the public, Liam thought as his lips tugged at a huge smile.

From there the magic continued on stage.

Liam stood behind Elsa, circling her shoulders with his arms while she rested her back on his chest, both watching in awe the huge talent both Killian and Emma had singing together. Liam couldn't be more proud of himself for being the one with the brilliant idea of pushing Emma that first time to accompany Killian on stage.

Don't stop believin' Hold on to the feelin'

That verse couldn't be more appropriate, Liam thought as he tightened his embrace on Elsa. He would never stop believing that everything was possible. Their current situation was the best example, with his brother and Emma creating magic on stage and overflowing with happiness and love. With a vibrant Elsa in his arms, it offered him the sensation of holding his (their) own future. He would definitely never stop believing in them and the endless possibilities they had together.

The End - Fin

About the inspiration for the scene of the last performance, the movie is Rock Of Ages, and here's the video (spoilers! it's also the last scene in the movie, just in case):

youtube

Thank you so, so much.

These last few months have been quite complicated for me, so I have barely had time or energy to write, but I haven't given up, so I hope to be able to continue creating. Until then, it has been a pleasure. Stay safe, everyone.

#cs ff #captain swan #csrt #damn you for making me love you #cs au #captain swan rewrite a thon #mayquita writes #my cs writings #cs au ff

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shireness-says · 5 years ago

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You’re Always 16 Hours Ahead

Summary: Killian Jones never expected to hit it big, but the opportunity of a lifetime pulls him away from home and the woman he pines for. Can a friendship that just might be more survive a concert world tour?

(With wide eyes and faith

That life could never pull us apart if we were ok

But distance kills the best of intentions…)

(~2.6K. Rated T for language. Also on AO3)

~~~~~

A/N: I’m so excited to share my contribution to the @csconcertseries! This is an idea I’ve had for a long time, and I’m excited to finally bring it to life. This is inspired by “Jet Lag” by Frank Turner, and also includes references to “Polaroid Picture,” “Get Better,” and “Plain Sailing Weather.” I’ve definitely been blasting his stuff all month long and dragging other people with me (looking at you, @thejollyroger-writer). Super thanks, as always, to @snidgetsafan for her beta talents.

Without further ado: Enjoy, and let me know what you think!

~~~~~

POP PRINCESS ANNOUNCES WORLD TOUR

Great news, Fairy Fans: Wildly popular pop music star Tink is planning a world tour. The international exhibition will be undertaken to promote her latest album, “Neverland No More”. Tink will be joined on her tour by recent up-and-comer Killian Jones, who will serve as her opening act. Jones has captured the world’s ear with his recent hit single, “Green Eyes,” which continues to climb the pop charts. A full schedule of planned concerts can be found at…

September 17th

Dear Emma,

I know it’s only been a few days, but I already miss you and Henry. Los Angeles is loud, and congested, and so much unlike Storybrooke that it scares me a little. But when that happens, I try to remember our bench on the docks, and it helps ground me. I’ve got a picture of us out there taped to the inside of my guitar case, just as a reminder that even if everything changes, I’ve always got something to come home to.

You didn’t think I was kidding when I said I’d write, did you? Mark my words, I intend to write you from every stop. To hell with blocking or setup or rehearsals or whatever, I’ll be sitting on an amp backstage writing you.

You must tell me everything, Swan - don’t you dare get skimpy with the details in your next email! I know it’s been less than a week, but I’m sure there’s something from the gossip mill. Has Liam secured a new Friday act yet? I’m sure he won’t find anyone nearly as talented (or handsome!) as yours truly, but I can’t imagine he and Robin are leaving that slot open in my honor. Tell me, how much do you think he’ll groan if I send back a signed world tour poster?

I’ve got to go - something about the lights. Such is the life of a rock star, isn’t it?

Your own personal celebrity (and best friend),

-Killian

September 19th

Liam -

Brother, you’ve got to stop calling every few hours. I know you’re bored and your life is empty without me, but this is getting ridiculous. Half the road crew thinks you’re my father. Do you intend to run up your phone bill when the tour crosses the ocean? I love you, but please don’t go broke on my behalf. Now is the time to wean yourself off me.

All teasing aside, I do appreciate the calls, not to mention everything else. If you hadn’t insisted on making those demo tapes and forcing me to Boston and any venue or bar that would take me, I wouldn’t be here today.

You’d have been so proud to see me - I must have been sweating gallons, but I got up on stage in front of that massive crowd and I did it, sang my pieces. The noise of all those people practically shakes your bones, Liam - and that wasn’t even half the noise that Tink elicited! I don’t know how she does it. I suppose I’ll find out, though, won’t I? After all, this is my big break, as long as I don’t screw it up too badly.

I’m sure I’ll talk to you later - in the meantime, say hello to the lads for me.

-Killian.

P.S. Keep an eye on Emma and Henry for me, would you? I know you’ve already promised, but I worry. I owe you one, brother.

October 2nd

Emma -

Hello from Seattle! It is just as rainy as promised, and I’ve lost count of the coffee shops. Part of that might be the Starbucks, though. I swear, they’re like a plague, popping up all over the place.

The tour is still going well. I might even get used to this tour bus life! I miss you all, of course - my love especially to Henry - but it’s exhilarating, getting up on stage every night in front of so many people. The crowds are huge, Swan, larger than I ever could have imagined. I know they’re mostly here for Tink, but there’s always applause and a handful of people singing along to my songs, and it’s the best kind of adrenaline. Leaves me with an itch in my fingers and a new song stuck in my head. I’ll work it out later.

I’m so happy to hear that Henry is doing so well in kindergarten; he’s always been a little social butterfly. I’ll bet that he makes tons of friends; I’m glad he loves it so far. I’ll call soon, I promise.

Yours,

-Killian

October 20th

Swan -

Happy Birthday, darling! Technically, I’m mailing this a few days early, but I hope it’ll reach you just in time. I’m sorry to be missing the festivities this year - just know that I’ll be thinking of you all day, wishing I was there to celebrate with you. Keep an eye out for a package or two - and before you even try to protest that I don’t need to, they’re just little things, love. Stuff that made me think of you. Tokens of my affection, if you will. It’s your birthday, anyways - live a little! Let us spoil you for once.

Texas is… less than impressive. Large? Yes, in a way that feels almost performative. It’s missing some kind of charm, at least to me. Then again, I’ve never been much for cowboy hats; maybe that’s the real problem, here. Regardless, I’d gladly take the northeast fall colors any day.

Make a good wish, alright? I hope the year to come is as wonderful as you are.

Yours,

-Killian

November 26th

Dear Henry -

Happy Thanksgiving! Did you have a good holiday? Did Granny make enough macaroni and cheese for you to eat your fill? I know that’s your favorite.

Thank you for watching the parade! I was really excited to be in it too. Sadly, the powers that be wouldn’t let me take home the Snoopy balloon for you, but I did manage to get a couple of handfuls of confetti for you. It should be inside this envelope. You would have loved it, Henry - the confetti was flying everywhere and I saw so many really cool floats up close and personal. We’ll maybe have to go together in a couple of years, aye? We’ll ask your mum.

Draw lots and lots of turkeys for me, little mate - I know you’re really good at that. And give your mum and Liam a great big hug for me!

Love,

-Killian

CELEBRITY FILE EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW WITH EVERYONE’S NEW FAVORITE HEARTTHROB - KILLIAN JONES

… In researching this piece, I heard over and over about how personal Jones’ lyrics were, how well they captured every feeling and variation of being in love. Every fan out there seems to feel like his words are written just for them, like a window into their soul. So when I finally met with the man himself, I couldn’t help but ask: Was there anyone who inspired such lyrical devotion? Some woman - or man! - in his own life who inspired such moving words?

“You know, the thing I’ve always liked in listening to music on my own is being able to recognize a little bit of myself in someone else’s words,” Jones told me in response to the question. “It always made me feel a little less alone - a little more connected to other people, I guess, to hear that they experienced or saw things the same way I do. It’s very rewarding to hear that people feel the same way about my music. I’m of the opinion that music should be a universal experience, and when I write, I write words that I hope other people can see a bit of themselves in.”

Something about that blush and the nervous scratch behind his ear that fans know so well tells me he’s holding out on us…

December 11th

Dearest Swan -

The holidays have crept right up on us, haven’t they? Do us both the favor of imagining me singing that sickly-sweet “I’ll Be Home For Christmas” nonsense, because it’s true. December 20th. Mark your calendar, and don’t blame me if I fall asleep on the car ride home from the airport. It’s all this travel, you see - takes it right out of you. You can’t blame a man for that, love.

(Also, please ignore that I’ll be flying in from Chicago. I still plan to claim jet lag. That one hour difference, love, it’s a real killer.)

Is there anything in particular that Henry especially wants this year? I’ve done my best to pick up things for you and Liam and everyone else, but I know the lad’s tastes change practically hour to hour, and he’s probably got a whole list stashed somewhere. I want to get him something he’ll really like instead of just wandering through the toy store in a panic, if at all possible.

Counting the hours until I see you again,

-Killian

January 8th

Emma -

I don’t even know where to start. How can I properly apologize for what happened at New Year’s? I struggle, because I can’t truthfully say that I regret it. I don’t think I’ve made it a secret all these years that I’m helplessly enthralled by you and everything you are. There are words - big words, three words - that rattle around in my heart every day, but I know you’re not willing to hear them yet. I’ll be here, love, whenever you’re ready.

I know you’re scared, Emma, but I’m begging you - just talk to me. We can forget all about this, if that’s what you want, but you’ve got to talk to me. Every day I don’t hear from you is just a little bit harder. I’ll follow your lead, whatever you say.

You’ll always be my best friend, Swan - no matter what else happens.

-Killian

January 20th

I kissed her, Liam.

I’m sorry; that’s not much of a way to start a letter is it? How are you? Everything going well?

But I’m sorry, I’ve got to talk about this and get it off my chest. Because I kissed her, Liam. Emma. I kissed Emma. And then it kind of… all went to shit. I guess that’s just like me, isn’t it? Give me one fine day of plain sailing weather, and I can turn it to stormy seas.

And I know where she’s coming from, really - I know better than almost anyone about how she’s been left behind too many times. As much as it hurts to have this sudden radio silence, I know she’s just trying to protect herself. But I love her, Liam. I’ve loved her forever. This isn’t just “distance makes the heart grow fonder,” or something stupid like that. I should have acted a long time ago. I should have done a thousand different things, but here we are.

If you have any ideas of how to fix this, please, let me know. I hope you’re having a happier new year than I so far.

-Killian

February 2nd

Dear Emma -

I can’t tell you how good it was to hear from you the other day. You may think that there’s nothing interesting about all the goings-on in the bar, but that particular kind of nothing is soothing. It’s like a little piece of home in every email. Besides, I know that the bar is never quite as boring as we always joked. And I’d welcome any word from you anyways, after how much I’ve missed you.

We’re in Paris right now. It’s gorgeous, truly - I’ll have to bring you and the lad back sometime. I know you’d call me a nerd, but I’ve been hitting museums - the Louvre, the Musee d’Orsay, the Rodin museum, etc. I made sure to do the Eiffel Tower too, just for you, even though the crowds were utterly terrible. Stuffed my face with pastries too, all on your behalf.

(Okay, you caught me, Swan - the pastries are for me too. The croissants, Swan! The bread! I surely won’t fit in my trousers if we’re here any longer, but I can’t regret it. I swear, I’d ship some back to you if I thought they’d survive the trip.)

We’ll have to schedule time for a call home soon - I find myself so often longing for your voice. I love your emails, but there’s something to a phone call that can’t be replaced.

Yours,

-Killian

March 11th

Dear Henry -

Thank you for sending me that drawing! I love it. It’s taped to the inside of my guitar case now, where I can look at it every day. I especially like the yellow you used for your mum’s hair. You’ll have to thank her for scanning that for us on my behalf. That’s good form, you know.

I’m in Amsterdam right now. Your mum or Liam can show you where that is on a map; it’s in Western Europe. I went someplace I think you’d love today; it’s called Madurodam. It’s this entire miniature city, with little airplanes and zoo animals and everything. I had a lot of fun exploring it, and I think you would too.

A graduation, you say? From kindergarten? I wouldn’t miss it for the world, lad. I’ll be home, no matter what.

I miss you, Henry, and your mother too. It always brightens my day to see an email from you.

Sealed with a great big hug,

-Killian

April 21st

Emma -

London is rainy and cold. I suppose I shouldn't have expected anything different, but here I am, surprised all the same. It’s hard to convince myself to go do any of the tourist-y things when the weather is like this, so I’m stuck inside, writing to you. Not that that’s ever a hardship...

You’d hardly recognize me with this get-up I’ve found myself in for the show tonight - the heavy eyeliner especially. Gone are the days of some beat-up tee - though I think you might like the vest. Getting dressed feels like slipping into some other persona. I worry a lot of the time about whether I’ve changed beyond recognition, or if I’m still the same person you know. That’s the man I want to be, you know - someone you can be proud of, but somehow still that same poor bastard in the bar, just trying to write words that mean something. I hope I am. But you know how it goes - distance kills the best of intentions.

I miss you terribly, Swan, and Henry too. Hell, even Liam. These letters are all that ground me some days, I fear. On the loneliest nights, I reread your emails and imagine you’re talking to me instead. It’s always just a too-brief daydream, unfortunately.

I’ve grown rather maudlin, haven’t I? That won’t do at all. I blame it on the rain. Here’s a happier note for us both: I’ll be home late next month. Perhaps I’ll have to make one of those paper chains Henry’s so fond of; if I do, I’ll include a picture with my next letter.

Counting the days. Until then -

Love, Killian

May 17th

My Swan -

By the time you get this, I’ll be home with you and the lad again, and hopefully have already told you in person everything I want to say now:

I love you, Emma. Every word of every song is for you. I’ve loved you from the first moment I laid eyes on you, and no time or distance or groupie is ever going to change that. I’m yours, love, body and soul. And I have faith that life can never tear us apart as long as that’s true.

I’m coming home, love. And my home is you.

Yours (in every sense),

-Killian

BREAKING NEWS: KILLIAN JONES’ SECRET LOVER?

Bad news for all the fangirls and Killy-Tink shippers out there: Bad boy popstar Killian Jones appears to be off the market. The singer, 27, was spotted locking lips with an unidentified blonde at the Storybrooke Memorial Gardens, just outside of Boston, where Jones calls home. Sources have long speculated that Jones has a secret girlfriend back home, and this just might be confirmation. Check back as this story continues to develop. StarWatchOnline remains YOUR #1 celebrity news site…

~~~~~

Tagging: @snowbellewells, @profdanglaisstuff, @kmomof4, @winterbaby89, @teamhook, @ohmightydevviepuu, @optomisticgirl, @spartanguard, @thisonesatellite, @let-it-raines, @scientificapricot, @searchingwardrobes

#cs ff #captain swan ff #cs concert series #Captain Swan #You're Always 16 Hours Ahead #epistolary fic #rockstar!Killian

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hidelaney · 5 years ago

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Hi Delaney!

Ah, yes the quarantine. It’s getting to me. Definitely. Suddenly I have no office to go to. But it’s good, I think. Make the CEO realize the upper management has no literal reasons to keep us in the office. Like at all. Seriously, everyone from my team is working from home and the level of productivity is actually better. Because guess what? Not having people breathing down our necks is SUPER helpful. So HA!

Okay, about Larry Stylinson. You’re right, I did fall into YouTube Blackhole. And Twitter. And I just watched 1D San Siro concert. By watching, I mean I actually paused the work I’m doing and looked at the screen while it played. Admittedly I was also doing chores but! It wasn’t just background music! It counted!

When I said I could put Larry Stylinson in a microwave and be done with it, I mean the theories and compilation videos are so readily available and easy to digest like, comparable to instant meals.

It’s so neatly packaged, too. Like, I was introduced to Larry Stylinson basically yesterday. Now I could recite the storyline in my head whenever I please. Or when I want to please you, in this case.

Let’s see if I can get it all summarized down here. FYI, I’m borrowing your assumption that Taylor was in on it the whole time. And Eleanor, too. Because I actually know of her existence now! Character discovery! Except they’re real people so I feel the need to point out that I’m making all the assumptions all over the place. I’m doing this for you, my dear Delaney.

Keep in mind that we all need character growths and personal developments when I make non-flattering assumptions toward your favorite people here, ok?

First up! HS & TL met in a toilet.

Now it’s debatable whether it was during an X-Factor audition or Battle of the Bands. For the sake’s of my next argument, I’m going with they knew each other before X-Factor. Likely during their time in White Eskimo and The Rogue, respectively. Their (unconfirmed?) first words to each other were ‘Oops!’ & ‘Hi��

Up next, the X-Factor audition and getting put together in a band.

So here is where I kind of needed my first assumption for this to work. Their chemistry was so obviously through the roof. It made so much sense if they were already sort-of friends and then got put together in a band. Plus, I don’t think the way Louis jumped into Harry’s arms is something a relative stranger would do. And if they only knew each other out of everyone there, it’s no wonder they were both so apparently clingy and codependent. It’s like a situation where both of them went ‘I have no idea what’s gonna happen next, but at least I know you and you know me. So we’re bestie now. No take back!”

And then there’re video diaries, twitter cams, radio interviews, and other broadcasting media they appeared in. These need no explanation because you’ve probably seen all of them and I have functioning ears and eyes. So, yes, I saw videos of them being all disgustingly cute all over the place. During the so-called ‘Fetus’ phase (a wording which I personally find rather disturbing, no offense to your anatomy textbooks or anything.) They’re so sweet. Especially whenever there’s a mention of how they moved in and lived together. Their interactions must’ve been responsible for so many tooth cavities. So many aww-worthy moments. On stage, on screen, behind the scenes, potato cams. Basically everywhere in front of everyone.

Then 1D blew up and were well on their way to become their label’s biggest and brightest BCG-metrix star. It’s not hard to see why investors’d be invested (lol) in employing every marketing strategy possible to keep 1D in the spotlight.

There’s a twofold marketing exploitation to Larry Stylinson that I see from miles away.

Hard sell the heteronormative version of the boys. (To capture major market shares)

Never had Harry or Louis explicitly confirm nor deny their relationship status. (To capture additional market shares with queerbaiting)

But let’s say Harry and Louis were actually together and making 1) too difficult to achieve. Otherwise this whole thing falls apart like a wet house of cards.

Thus, here came what I’d like to call ‘dousing a fire with gasoline’. This is where there’s a sudden drop of their interactions in public and Larry Stylinson isn’t a cutesy smashup name of two boys who got along like a house on fire anymore. This is the part where a ship turned into a full fledged conspiracy theory. And it’s MEGA COOL WICKED awesome.

I say this in the nicest way possible. A tragedy is the grandest form of entertainments. Misery loves having friends.

Also, I’d like to say this. I’m having fun thinking of this as a fictional arc. Because I still feel like it will shatter my heart in to a million pieces if anything resembling what I write next was true.

Since breaking into US market was the Kickstarter into a global one, to the US 1D went.

This was where the heavy closeting got way more difficult to handle. Elounor had the excuse of Eleanor being a private citizen and therefore should be left alone for the most part. Haylor was the complete opposite. Taylor Swift was and still is an American Sweetheart. Harry Styles might have been the most famous British Harry if it weren’t for a (former?) prince and a wizard. (Seriously, we should not call any of our hypothetical future children ‘Harry’ unless you thought ‘Albus Severus Potter’ was a good idea. Poor kiddo.)

The saddest part about Harry Styles public image was how reminiscent of Emma Watson it felt. The minute they turned eighteen, their media portrayals immediately became hyper-sexualized. Suddenly, they left the human zoo into an open hunting game. Famous lives are terrifying.

Anyhow, say, Taylor Swift knew what the US music industry was like. She’s been playing the long game for quite some time. She got to know Harry and then became rather protective of him. Her conclusion was that ‘hyping up Haylor’ would: 1) increase media exposure for both Taylor and 1D which would translate to bigger channels of revenue for all involved, 2) hold the speculation about Harry’s sexual orientation at bay because, as horrible as it sounds, gays don’t sell in America.

This one fit nicely with your ‘Out of the Woods’ interpretation. Taylor wasn’t just spending time with Harry. She was actively enforcing the lock on the closet. Which explains why Louis seemed to resent Taylor quite obviously and quite a lot. His own heteronormative scripts with Eleanor had been relatively tame. Harry’s whirlwind series of romances in public had only just begun.

As Harry started gaining a womanizer reputation in earnest, so did the Almost-Subtle Couple Tattoo Sprees.

If ‘Always in my heart @Harry_Styles . Yours sincerely, Louis’ tweet was a sign that circumstances were about to go south for them. The tattoos were signs that the circumstances had already gone to shit. The tragic package had been shipped, signed, and delivered.

This is where non-flattering assumptions rise to the surface. I think 1D had been overworked past the point of exhaustion. Self-destruction as a coping mechanism became rather prevalent and pervasive within the band. The boys gleefully collected regrets as a new favorite pastime, some more than others. Consequences were nipping at their heels.

Then Zayn left right in the middle of a world tour and all hell broke loose.

Here comes the biggest Assumption Affair!

Louis and Liam, the last to release their solo debut albums, were the most prominent songwriters for the band. I’m not going to go on about Liam because I’m here to give you Larry Stylinson. And this is already way too long as it is. But, needless to say, the first discussion of a prospective solo career probably hit them the hardest.

If each song they wrote was a battle scar, Louis was still bleeding for the band when Harry, of all people, brought up the idea of a hiatus and solo careers. Realizing how many songs Harry already had waiting in the back catalogue must’ve felt like a slap in the face. Or a punch in the gut. Whichever you think is worse/more dramatic. I’m not picky.

Remember self-destruction as coping mechanism? What about relationship-destruction as coping mechanism? Louis cheated and had a baby with someone else. Infidelity at its finest.

ALERT! THIS IS A NEON SIGN OF ASSUMPTION AFFAIR! Please don’t kill me. I told you I was gonna make unflattering assumptions toward your favorite people. I just did as I promised!!! *run for cover*

Anyway...

I’m gonna take you back a little. I mentioned earlier how Eleanor was a private citizen and therefore should be left alone. At times when Louis desperately needed to be left alone, Elounor makes so much sense. If she’s a PR-only girlfriend, she’s a stellar employee. If it’s not just a PR thing, she’s as forgiving as a saint. Just, if it’s Harry and Louis, they likely both messed up and hurt each other badly. If it’s Louis and Eleanor,... I mean... Have you seen a meme where you misspell a word so badly that the autocorrect goes, ‘I don’t know what to tell you, man’?... Louis would be that misspelled word and Eleanor would be the very best autocorrect that practically brute force through every word in the Oxford AND Urban dictionary to find out what that word was. If that’s who she is, then bless her soul. However, for the sake of this argument, we will proceed with the assumption that she’s the star employee of the decade.

Losing loved ones and grieving for them are inevitable parts of human lives. Nothing put more things into perspectives than losing someone so fundamentally dear to you. When I heard Louis Tomlinson’s ‘Two of Us’ for the first time, I remembered walking through an actual forest my grandpa planted for us because he wanted to make sure his great grandkids would have a nice home to grow up in. Do you remember when you called and told me that he died the night I got on my first solo international flight ten months after the fact? I wanted to hate you for keeping something this big a secret from me. I wanted to hate everybody at home for that. But then you told me that it was what my grandpa had wanted. That he didn’t want me to be a sad sack of an exchange student. That you decided to not listen to my parents and call to tell me just before I was due home. So that I’d have time to feel hurt about being lied to. So that I could get all the angry words out. So that I wouldn’t scream at my parents when I got home and learnt the truth. So that you could take the brunt of my grief instead.

I just took a break to have a little cry. Where was I? Oh, yeah. You did the best you could for me when I lost my grandpa. I still managed to effectively shut you out for months. Just because you were the messenger of the bad news. What I’m trying to say is that grief changes people. It changed me. For the worst for a bit. And then for the better once I came to term with what it means to me. There’s a quote from Rosamund Lupton that sums it up neatly.

“Grief is love turned into an eternal missing.”

I guess this is the part where I connected the dots back to Harry and Louis. Well, their music definitely give grief different names. Both albums talk about coming to term with it and moving forward. Every songs they wrote could be woven to fit the narrative of Larry Stylinson and events surrounding them. If you buy the theory, then the good news is both Fine Line & Walls seemed to have a positive ending. One thing I know for sure, though, is that no matter how convincing a conspiracy theory maybe, it could all be built upon a faulty assumption. I’d probably have a way easier time disregarding Elouner if I didn’t have you as a solid proof in my life that, yes, people like the best autocorrect exists. It’s funny how I feel no hesitation at all in categorizing Haylor as a calculated move. Because in my head that’s just par for the course in business. And it genuinely terrifies me in a way. Who the hell I could’ve become if it weren’t for you knocking me off the ground and pouring kindness on me.

I know I skipped a lot of stuff. Missing names like Caroline, Danielle, Kendall, Freddie, Camille, Xander, etc. But HS and LT have a decade of history on public record and, frankly, my interest ran out four paragraphs ago. So just let me conclude this.

I think it’s tiring, spending this much time speculating on someone else’s relationship history. I must admit that I had to get it out of my chest because it was way too interesting to let go off. But now, I feel like I’m just going to stream Heartbreak Weather and listen to ‘No Judgement’ on repeat. Nile is my favorite non-problematic celebrity. I could spell his name so wrong and it probably won’t be an issue as long as I politely say, “Sorry, Mr Niall Horan”

This quarantine clearly leaves me with too much time on my hands.

Virtual hugs and kisses

Your Incredible Sasha 😘

#larry stylinson #haylor #elounor #aimh theory #larry #i hope you like this #in this essay i will...

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