#about how henry is allowed to have affairs while she’s supposed to just grin and bare it! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

karlyfr13s · 3 years

Text

Oathkeeper, Chapter 3

Thank you: @veryverynotgood my phenomenal beta--you keep me going when I'm busy wallowing in doubt, and you make me less of a walking run-on (hooray!).

Bless y'all: the CSMM Discord crew--it's like a community of flails, encouragement, and collaboration...such magic!

Head's up: No description of violence nor abuse; however, they are mentioned.

AO3 Links: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Most days, Killian occupied himself either by helping Granny with the more physically taxing chores around the inn and diner or on board his ship ensuring her seaworthiness. Granted, the Jolly was in top form and she certainly had no need of repairs nor did she have a heading before her; but it quieted his mind to see to her every need and to painstakingly mend every frayed hem of a sail and worn bit of paint. Lately, he’d taken to wandering Storybrooke as Granny increasingly gave tasks over to young Felix.

The boy was coming along, a bit less surly now. Killian was certain this was due to Ruby’s unending praise of his efforts--no sixteen year-old lad could resist her charms. He’d had a hard time containing his laughter when he witnessed the latest scene: Ruby, clad in a button-down shirt she must have sewn onto herself each morning, batting her eyes at young Felix as she asked for his help bringing up kegs from the cellar. The boy had practically tripped over his own feet as he scrambled to assist, then struggled mightily as he puffed up the stairs with a metal cylinder that likely outweighed his slight frame. Killian had watched as Felix professed the task “no problem”, but had also seen his eyes widen to immense saucers when Ruby cheerfully called there were only “five more to go”. At that, Killian offered his assistance quietly, assuring the boy Ruby would never know that he had not fulfilled the task single-handedly. She was occupied cleaning up after the lunch crowd filtered out, so Killian helped Felix make short work of the task before ducking out the back and allowing the young man credit for the entire endeavor.

Today, however, there was little for him to do and it made Killian antsy. He took to wandering the shore as his mind drifted to the Crocodile, the Princess, and the confusion of his present state of affairs. His increasingly cloudy thoughts were interrupted by a shouted “Ahoy, Captain Hook!” and Killian’s eyes snapped to a strange wooden contraption where young Henry Mills stood, waving to him and grinning from ear to ear.

“Good afternoon,” he sketched a brief bow to the boy as he stepped up to what he now realized was Henry’s castle. Emma had mentioned it in passing as the place the young lad took refuge in his own thoughts, an all-too-familiar notion for Killian. “I was given to understand this time of day was set aside for studies, lad. Or am I mistaken?” He raised an eyebrow up at the boy who shook his head, informing Killian school had ended an hour ago.

“My moms are busy though,” he explained simply. “Regina has a meeting with someone who wants to open a new store, and Emma is in the mines because ‘ the dwarves are flipping out about some property rights ’.” Killian chuckled at the boy’s impression of his mother. He was invited into Henry’s castle where the two sat and looked out at the waves lapping against the shore. At first, the conversation was largely Henry reporting out about his school day. It seemed he was struggling with something math-related, and while Killian’s formal schooling was long behind him, he did offer the boy assistance.

“If, that is, your parents will allow it,” he added quickly, unsure where he stood in the strange dynamic of this town and particularly this family.

Henry snorted at that. “Regina might get weird about it, but she’s trying to make up for the whole...Evil Queen thing, so I think I can manage one mom. The other mom…” he shrugged “I don’t think she’d mind as long as I’m not asking her the math questions. She said it was her least favorite subject in school.”

Killian steeled himself for his next question, taking a deep breath and levelling his gaze at Henry. “And your father?”

Henry made a face at that. “I don’t really know,” he admitted in a tone Killian couldn’t quite decipher. “He was supposed to pick me up from school today,” Henry tucked up his knees and rested his chin on them in a pose Killian had seen Emma take up as well. It seems they both made themselves smaller in these moments of questioning. “I don’t know if he forgot, or if something came up...I don’t think he knows what to do with me.” Henry peeked up at Killian, looking so uncertain of himself that it nearly broke the man’s heart. He knew what it was to feel on uneven ground with one’s father, to feel more a burden than a blessing, and he refused to allow Henry’s mind to wander those dark halls. While he could offer no real comfort when it came to the man Neal seemed determined to remain, he could offer a promising distraction that should spark young Henry’s curiosity.

“Well, whatever may be delaying him, it certainly has come at an opportune moment for me. Would you care to join me on board the Jolly , Master Mills? It’s past time she received an inspection from a keen eye such as yours.” The boy’s face lit up immediately and he jumped up, grabbing a device from his jacket pocket. After a moment’s pause, Killian heard a tinny version of Emma's voice as Henry hurriedly explained the plan to his device, suppressing a smile as Henry rolled his eyes at his mother’s questions.

“Yes, we’ll stay in the harbor,” he glanced at Killian who nodded along. “Yes, I will stay away from the railing and listen to everything--did you just call him Killian ? That’s weird, Mom, he’s a Captain...well, you’re supposed to address him by title because it’s his ship, of course…yes, yes, no….Mom, I’m not gonna die. I’m gonna go around the harbor with a master sailor…”

Killian knew the lad had won out when a rushed series of ‘thank you’s’ left his mouth before he tucked the device away once more. “She says, ‘tell The Captain that if you come back with one hair out of place, I’ll shave his off with David’s longsword’. She’s just being weird, I know we’re gonna be great--let’s go!” The lad took hold of Killian’s hook and led him down the small stairs onto the sand, setting off in the direction of his ship.

Once aboard, Henry was clearly overcome with curiosity. His return trip from Neverland hadn’t afforded him much time to explore or ask questions. In fact, he’d largely been asleep from pure exhaustion. For Killian, the afternoon with Henry was a remarkable chance to see his ship through the eyes of another. The boy’s questions seemed endless, and while they started with simple questions of identification--what parts of the rigging were called, the names of the various decks and quarters--they quickly expanded to encompass how everything came together to make her sail. His enthusiasm was infectious, and it brought Killian so fully out of his earlier sour mood that it nearly felt like Henry had his own kind of magic.

“Okay, but how do you get up to the crow’s nest?” Henry scrutinized the location through narrowed eyes. Killian stepped in behind him, pointing out the most logical route through the rigging. “Cool! Can I try?”

“I...don’t think that’s wise, lad. I prefer my head firmly attached, and your mother may well remove it if she finds out I let you free-climb the rigging.” Henry turned to face him, a mischievous smirk on his face as he intoned that she didn’t have to know about it.

“While I appreciate the enthusiasm, I need her to like me far better than she does before I conspire against her wishes. A rogue can only get away with so much when it comes to the tenacity of a mother,” he winked, and hoped like hell the boy would let it go. Of course, as Emma’s child he should have known that would be improbable at best.

“Oh, she likes you well enough.” Killian furrowed his brow at this while Henry grinned. Obviously the lad knew how to catch his attention, though just how aware he was of what Killian felt for Emma was still unclear-- the notorious Captain Hook, bested by a child . “You earned a ton of points with her in Neverland,” Henry clarified. “I know she didn’t tell me everything, but she did tell me you saved my grandpa, and I already know you saved me. Since she just got this part of her family back, you gotta know that earned you like...a million points in her eyes. You could totally stand to lose a few of them and teach me how to get up there.”

It took Killian another five minutes to finally persuade Henry that rather than risk a broken arm, or worse, he should simply ask Emma for permission before he learned to scout from above. The cost of negotiations wasn’t much, Henry simply wanted to learn to steer the ship, and so Killian guided him in his quest as they toured the harbor together. The lad had adventure in his blood, that much Killian was certain of, and it seemed he just might be falling in love with the sea as well. The idea tugged at Killian’s heart, as did the pure joy he saw in the boy’s face when they returned to port after the successful little journey.

After receiving a message on his device, Henry mentioned needing to return to his grandparents’ loft, and Killian was happy to escort him, listening to Henry’s re-telling of their afternoon on the Jolly and basking in the shared moment. To hear Henry tell it, you’d think they’d travelled across a realm or two rather than simply around Storybrooke’s small harbor. He wondered how the boy would tell it to his mother and what she would think. Would she be angry at Killian and think he had overstepped? Would Henry mention his father’s neglect today?

His thoughts were interrupted when they arrived at the door and Henry flung his arms around Killian. He hesitated only a moment before returning the fierce embrace. “Thanks, Captain,” the boy grinned up at him. “Next time, I’m going up that rigging though. And I’m learning how to use your spyglass up there, right? I wanna see everything--as far out as I can!”

Killian chuckled, “So long as you have it in writing from your mother, aye lad.”

---

Two nights later, Killian awoke to someone pounding on his door in the middle of the night and he bolted upright, grabbing his hook from the bedside table as he crossed the pitch-black room. He swung the door open to reveal a distraught Emma Swan, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy, and her fingers tapping an uneven rhythm at her side.

“I didn’t know where else to go, but I couldn’t stay in that loft for another minute,” she explained, voice cracking. “Can I come in?”

Killian stepped aside, allowing her to pass before he followed and shut the door behind them, clicking on the lamp by the bed and sitting down. There was little room, and she took a spot near him on the bed, her right leg bouncing as she stared down at the floor. He gave her a moment, but when she showed no signs of relaxing he gently spoke her name, “Swan?” Her leg stilled and she looked up, tears tracking down her cheeks. “Swan, what’s wrong?”

As he waited for her response, Killian wracked his memory--what had happened over the course of the last few days? He’d seen her in the diner each morning when she picked up her coffee and there had been no hint of whatever was on her mind. He’d run into her at the library when Henry was doing research for a school project and he was reading up on this realm’s history, but she’d been perfectly fine and that was only yesterday. They’d even discussed finding volunteer work for Felix as he was starting to grate on Granny’s nerves, Swan mentioning it may be best if the boy also enrolled in school. What could have changed so much since yesterday? He searched her eyes and waited, hoping she would reveal the problem in due time.

“I yelled at them,” she murmured at last, dropping her eyes back to the floor.

“Pardon? At whom?” He’d seen Emma yell at a fair number of people, himself chief among them, and didn’t recall her reacting in this way before.

“My parents,” she clarified, “I yelled at Snow White and Prince Charming of all people, and I know I hurt them...she was crying when I left the loft, but I was just...I was so angry with them that I couldn’t, I mean, I can’t be there right now.” She sniffed, and Killian saw her shoulders start to shake. He took a risk, trying his hand at comfort when he slipped an arm around her shoulders and to his surprise she willingly leaned into him. Silence fell between them. He knew there was far more to the story, but wanted to let her move at her own pace and tell it in her way rather than pry it out of her.

She wiped her eyes and took a few slow, deep breaths. “I’m sorry I woke you up,” she started, “I don’t know what I was doing, I just had to get out and you were the only person I thought might answer the door this late.”

“Always available to help a lady in distress, Swan,” he tried a light jest and was rewarded with poke to his ribs. “Oww--just going to wake a man up and bruise him in his own room?” He pulled back to smile at her and she immediately scooted away, a blush blossoming on her cheeks. It was then he realized they’d never shared a touch that gentle and intimate. Yes, they had kissed-- and gods what a kiss it was --but moments before he’d been granted permission to hold her. It was just the two of them in the quiet hours of the night, and she had spent these vulnerable moments cradled against his bare chest. He cleared his throat and asked softly, “What was it that upset you so? Is there something I can do to help?”

She shook her head, tucking her legs under her as she chewed her bottom lip. With a huff, she continued. “They asked if I wanted to have family dinner, and that’s kind of...new, but I went with it. So Regina dropped Henry at the loft and I thought it was going to be--anyway, it wasn’t what I thought. Neal showed up ten minutes later.” She was picking at the quilt on the bed and wouldn’t meet Killian’s eyes, probably for the best given the sneer he couldn’t quite hide. “I didn’t want to make a scene in front of Henry, so I just went along with things at dinner. I figured I could deal with a couple of hours, plus the kid is a hell of a buffer and good at keeping everyone talking, but I know he didn’t show up the other day when you and Henry went sailing. I know when Henry talks Neal only half listens.” She paused for a long while, and Killian crossed the room, offering her the flask he pulled from the pocket of his greatcoat.

She took a swig and rolled her shoulders, visibly trying to relax before turning back to face him. After a soft word of thanks, she continued. “When Henry left, Neal stuck around. My parents offered him a nightcap and asked if he’d like to stay over .” It didn’t take the experience of Dr. Hopper to see she was disturbed by this. “And I lost it. I am so sick of their meddling, and their bizarrely perfect vision of him that I completely snapped. I spit out the whole story--”

Killian sat up straighter at this, aware she’d built up momentum and certain he was about to have another piece of the puzzle that was Emma Swan click into place.

“How he’d preyed on a goddamn homeless teenager, offering her shelter when he knew she didn’t have any of her own. How he knocked up a fucking seventeen year old and left her to rot in jail for his crimes, never bothering to admit his own guilt, never checking in to learn he’d fathered a child,” her tears flowed freely and her eyes blazed like emerald fire. “I told them the truth. That he was a predator, and I was too young and stupid to know better, and that I didn’t have the luxury of having anyone to warn me about people like him, of having anyone who cared enough to see the situation for what it was.”

Her breathing hitched and Killian instinctively reached for her, pulling her into a tight embrace and stroking her hair as she lost the final shreds of her composure. She sobbed against him and he murmured to her small comforts, that it would be all right and she didn’t have to be alone. After a while, her sobs diminished, lessening to sniffles and gasping breaths. He rubbed slow circles on her back and she finished her tale, tone empty and defeated, “I told them exactly what I finally realized: that I was abused by the man they keep inviting into our family, and that I cannot be in that place if they really think I’m supposed to patch things up with him and act like none of this happened, like it didn’t matter that he used me and threw me away.”

His heart broke for her, eyes stinging with unshed tears as he listened to the culmination of her loss and pain. “I don’t know how to face them again,” she mumbled against Killian’s chest, sagging against him in complete exhaustion. He assured her she needn’t think of that now, that what she needed was rest. And he offered to share the space with her. She nodded quietly, taking the offered shirt and pants and leaving to change in the adjoining bathroom.

Killian lay back, propped up on a pillow while his mind processed all she’d told him. He knew without a doubt her parents would mend this relationship, though it may well take time. He knew as well that whatever he’d promised Neal, that oath had been needless. In fact, the larger problem Killian now faced was how to make it through the next twenty-four hours without gutting Neal with his hook. The man had taken advantage of Emma, had framed her for his crime, and had abandoned her. It seemed Bae had become his father after all, and that did not bode well for him in Killian’s eyes.

His violent contemplations were interrupted by a bashful looking Emma, clad all in his own black attire and softly padding across the small room. “I’ll take the side by the door, Swan. Old habits, you know,” he nodded toward the cutlass by the bed and his hook which once again lay atop the nightstand. She smiled sheepishly as she slid under the covers next to him, offering a soft word of thanks and curling up with her back to him. He clicked off the light, desperately hoping she couldn’t hear the pounding of his heart as Killian tried like hell to fall back asleep.

Thanks for reading! Tagging the usual suspects: @kmomof4, @teamhook, @gingerpolyglot, @hollyethecurious, @caught-in-the-filter, @lonelyspectator12, @donteattheappleshook

#cs fan fic #captain swan #oathkeeper #killian jones #emma swan #henry mills #captain swan fanfic #karly tries to write

31 notes · View notes

ladyreapermc · 4 years

Text

Rules of Engagement 1/? (Henry x OFC)

Summary: Henry and Em have been friends for almost ten years and involved in a casual affair for just as long. The rules were simple: no romantic attachment and their friends and family couldn’t know. Easy enough to do right? However, when new complications emerge, Henry and Em will need to navigate this relationship of theirs, if they can even call it that. Chapter 02 | Chapter 03 | Chapter 04 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 06

Author’s Notes: Here it is. My first official series for Henners. I’m strangely nervous, because it’s sort of my baby and I have been putting lots of work on it for a couple of months now. So I would really, really appreciate feedback if you could take some time to do it.

Wordcount: 4815

Warnings: alcohol consumption; smut (oral; dirty talk; penetration)

Chapter 01: Casual Affair

It was by pure chance that when Emeline’s flight coming from Istambul had technical difficulties while on air, they stopped in Budapest of all places. However, it was straight bad luck that what was supposed to be just a quick stop turned into an allnighter due to more serious engine problems, with her new flight being scheduled for the next morning.

She considered just getting herself a hotel but it was nearly ten p.m. she was exhausted and Em really didn’t want to deal with finding a half-decent place to crash when she could just call Henry. That was what friends were for right?

Henry came, of course. That was the kind of person he was. Kind and helpful. Dependable. He hugged her tight, since they hadn’t seen each other since Clara and Todd’s baby had been born, before taking her carryon like the perfect gentleman and ushering Em into the rental car he had been using during his stay.

During the drive, he talked in an excited tone about the series and all the work he had to do. Em could only smile at the huge grin on his lips and the glint of excitement in his blue eyes. It was quite something to see Henry this happy and engaged with a project. Em was truly glad for him, but she was also tired, never being one to sleep on airplanes, so her contributions to the conversations were just hmms and nods every now and then, not that Henry seemed to mind.

“Did you eat?” Henry asked once he parked at the driveway of the cute white house and its perfectly maintained lawn that had been his home for the last couple of months.

“Airport food? Please!” she pulled a face, making Henry laugh as he led the way through the stone pathway.

“You’re such a food snob,” he commented, pausing by the front door, and Em was already smiling because she could hear Kal’s whines through the door.

“I’m not. I just have good taste.” Em dropped to her knees to pet and greet Kal which shot out the second Henry opened the door.

She had always loved dogs but never had a chance to have one for herself. At first, her father didn’t allow it, but once she moved out Em didn’t really have the space to keep one so she channeled all her dog mom tendencies towards Kal.

“Sometimes I think you’re only friends with me so you can see Kal regularly,” Henry teased once she let go of the dog long enough to step inside and Em smirked at him.

“You are not wrong, Cavill,” she said, her gaze traveling over the tasteful décor of the house, but her focus was instantly drawn to the kitchen and as soon as she shook off her coat on Henry’s waiting hands, she made a beeline to the room, in Em’s opinion the most important part of any house. “I love your kitchen.” She ran her hands over the wooden countertops and light blue cabinets.

“Technically, it’s not mine,” he chuckled, moving towards the fridge. “I have aubergine lasagna leftovers. Want some?”

“That sounds disgusting,” Em said with a grimace. “But it will do.”

She settled at the isle with the heated lasagna, once again listening to Henry babble about the project and his castmates and how things were going in the set. Some of it she had already heard since they texted every day, but Em enjoyed listening to Henry and actually missed his deep baritone voice.

It made her glad that she chose to do this, instead of staying at some crappy motel by herself, awake most of the night since Em had a hard time sleeping in other beds that weren’t hers. At least here she had Henry and she missed him.

“So how was Istambul?” he asked, bringing her plate to the sink, refusing to let her clean up herself.

“It was amazing,” Em sighed, chin resting on her hand as she watched Henry’s back unseeingly. She was actually thinking back on her journey, in which she had spent a week exploring the city and the sights, completely by herself just like she preferred.

Now, with her belly full, it was her time to babble about everything she saw and experienced while there. Em knew Henry had seen the pictures and stories on her Instagram. He liked everything she posted during the week, but there something about the way he was watching her, the focused look in his dazzling blue eyes like she was telling him the most interesting story in the world, that just made Em keep going, even as Henry finished the dished and they moved to get more comfortable in the couch.

“It does sound like you had fun,” he smiled at her, body turned her way on the couch, head resting on his palm as he listened, his other hand holding his glass of wine. “But don’t you miss having someone to share the experience?

“Sometimes,” Em shrugged, sipping her wine, she was in her third glass by now and she really ought to slow down, her mind was already getting a little foggy.

She had been doing these travels since she turned eighteen. First, she had her best friend Clara as her companion, but as they got older, Em started doing by herself since Clara couldn’t. One or two boyfriends in her time had offered to come along once, but it felt wrong to taint the memories of those trips with someone that might not be with her for the long run.

“But it’s nice too, you know? To have my own thing, without anyone else,” she scratched Kal behind the ears, just like he liked it, smiling at the way he rested his head on her knee to keep being petted. “Thanks again for letting me stay.”

“Anytime,” Henry replied with a smile, his own eyes clouded with alcohol.

They had been talking for hours, one and a half bottles of wine gone in the process. Enough alcohol to make Em’s mind wander as she took in Henry’s impressive physique, the stupid amount of muscles he built up for the series stretching his blue button-down. His dark hair falling in messy curls over his forehead, just like she Em liked it and the blush of alcohol making his cheeks even sharper.

Fighting the allure of the man before her, Em shifted her gaze down to Kal, but it was like he could pick up that something was about to happen, because pulled away from her touch, trouting out the back door, leaving her with only one option now.

Henry’s palm was warm and rough against her jaw as he tilted Em’s face back towards him, his eyes searching for her consent before his lips landed on hers in a soft kiss that gradually grew heated as their mutual need for each other was set alight.

Em sighed against his lips, giving in to the urge that had been brewing from the second she dialed his number. She inched closer, fisting his shirt, licking into his mouth and chasing the taste of wine on his tongue as Henry let his fingers wander down her torso, sneaking under her blouse to touch skin.

“Bedroom,” she mumbled against his lips. “Last time on the couch was a mess.”

“Yeah,” Henry chuckled getting to his feet and leading the way backward, his mouth never leaving hers, his touch getting bolder as their kisses because more desperate.

“This is the last time we do this,” Em declared, fingers undoing the buttons of his shirt or at least trying to. The amount of alcohol she consumed was enough to leave her a little uncoordinated. Henry was doing only slightly better.

“You’ve said that the last five times.”

Em could feel his smirk as his mouth descended over her jaw, pressing sucking kisses on her neck. He loved to leave marks all over her. No matter how many times Em asked him not to, Henry would just ignore it. It was as if he knew she secretly loved to watch herself in the mirror in the following week and be reminded of how amazing the sex had been.

“I mean it this time,” Em said, finally undoing his shirt and pushing it down his shoulders, exposing Henry’s chiseled chest to her wandering hands.

“I think you said that too, last couple of times,” Henry pointed out, shaking his shirt to the floor and pulling hers over her head, leaving Em standing there in only jeans. “Just admit it: you love how I fuck you.”

“Like you don’t enjoy it too,” she said, pushing him towards the bed, and Henry fell back with a bounce and a chuckle.

“Oh, I definitely enjoy it,” he declared, that same smug smirk in place as she undid his pants. “Never said otherwise. Never been in denial either. You’re the one…” He trailed off with a groan when Em freed his hard cock, giving a couple of quick tugs before running her tongue over the underside vein.

Em didn’t want to think about the fact that Henry was absolutely right. She had always been the one to often have second thoughts about this casual affair the two of them had been keeping for years, but not because she didn’t like Henry. It was quite the opposite, Em liked Henry a little too much, but knew it just wouldn’t work, not when he was always all over the world shooting his movies and tv shows, while mostly she stayed in London due to her own work.

And they were both too career-driven and unwilling to concede to the other. If even as just friends, she and Henry were frequently bumping heads, Em could only imagine how terrible they would be as a couple.

She still remembered that fateful night that Clara dragged her to a sport’s bar of all places because she wanted Em to officially meet Todd. She had been at one of his rugby matches earlier that week but ended up leaving before being introduced. In hindsight, Em should have known something was up because of the way Clara made such a big deal about this meeting and fussed over her outfit

“You can’t wear jeans and t-shirt!” she complained, digging though her friend’s wardrobe as Em just huffed a breath and laid back in bed.

“Why not? I’m meeting your boyfriend. What I’m wearing doesn’t matter.”

She had just baked and decorated 150 cupcakes for a children's birthday party. She was exhausted and the last thing she wanted to do was going out, but Clara invoked the best friend rule, so Em was stuck.

“What if there’s a cute guy there?” Clara asked, coming out with a tight, black dress that Em hadn’t worn in 3 years and it definitely wouldn’t fit her now since she gained more than a couple of pounds. She really needed to do some spring cleaning in that closet.

“If a cute guy is hanging in a sport’s bar, big chances he’s a douche, and I already filled my douche quota for the year,” she replied as Clara dove back into the closet. “Besides, I don’t have time for relationships.”

And Em really didn’t. She has just invested all her savings in opening her dream bakery. No way she would be getting distracted by guys while she was trying to get her business off the ground.

“There’s always time for relationships!” Clara declared, coming out of the closet, this time holding one of Em’s favorite sweater dresses. “You never know when true love is gonna knock on your door.”

“Tell it to come by later,” she joked, grabbing the dress and walking into the bathroom to change. It would be a lost cause to argue with Clara. Her friend was a lawyer and could talk her ear off, so Em might as well just get this over with.

She put on the dress and the heels and the makeup Clara pushed her way before she was finally deemed worthy of stepping out of the flat for the bar. At arrival, they found Todd already in his third beer and accompanied by his friend Henry.

Todd and Clara played innocent, pretending to be surprised that the other decided to bring a friend too but Em knew right away this was an ambush. And if Henry’s eye roll was anything to go by, he knew it too. It was their friends' not so subtle attempt to set them up.

Em had to give it to Clara though, Henry was a handsome man but maybe too handsome. She was a run of the mill kind of girl. Not unattractive, mind you. She did pretty well dating wise, especially when she put an effort like tonight, but never with guys that looked like Henry.

He was all dark, curly hair, blue eyes with just a tiny fleck of brown. Perfect features and the kind of chiseled physique that his hoodie didn’t manage to hide completely. He also looked kind of familiar, but Em couldn’t place him right away in her memory.

As they talked, she kept staring at him with a thoughtful frown, trying to come up with subtle questions that could enlighten her of where she knew Henry from because the longer Em talker to him, and she couldn’t help but notice that Todd and Clara kept finding excuses to leave the table so she and Henry could be alone, stronger that familiarity became.

“So how did you meet Todd again?” Em asked, sipping on her drink, which was too sweet but she didn’t mind.

“We went to school together and still play rugby from time to time,” Henry replied, cradling his pint of Guinness. He had shifted on the booth so his back was to the corner and he could properly look at Em. “How about you and Clara?”

“We grew up together. Neighbors all our lives,” she replied, popping a chip in her mouth. “Clara dragged me to one of Todd’s matches on Sunday. Did I see you there?”

“Umm, no.” Henry smiled indulgently. “Just got back yesterday. I was out of town for work.”

She only hummed in response, trying to think back on anything that could have put her and Henry in the same place and explain this feeling of familiarity.

“The Tudors.”

“What?” She asked in confusion at Henry’s random comment.

“You’re trying to figure out from where you know me,” he pointed out with a smirk and Em felt her cheeks heating up. “I mean, I did some other stuff too, a couple of very bad horror movies but that was my biggest role, so you might know me from there.”

It was like a lightbulb finally switched in her brain and she finally managed to place him in her memory.

“Oh my God, you did that weird-ass movie with the nazi vampire zombie! The one with Fassbender and the guy from Prison Break.” Em exclaimed a little too loudly, but Henry only chuckled. “That movie was terrible.”

“Yes,” he nodded, ducking his head a little, and was that a blush? “And seriously? That’s where you know me from?”

“I like crappy horror movies, ok?” Em shrugged with a grin.

“Clearly.” Henry laughed too.

And just like that, conversation flowed easily between them. Henry was a fun guy, surprisingly dorky, and a huge geek for videogames and the fantasy genre. It was nice to talk to someone that seemed to appreciate Lord of the Rings as much as Em did and she didn’t even notice when Todd and Clara slipped out without a word, obviously thinking their job was done.

Maybe if Henry was someone else, not an actor or that hot, they could have been right but as it was, Em didn’t see things going beyond a cool friendship.

That was what she thought at least until Henry walked her home, like a perfect gentleman, making her laugh with so many stupid jokes her sides were aching and she felt like she hadn’t smiled this much in days.

“You didn’t need to walk me all the way to my door,” She commented, turning to face him, her back leaning against the frame. Even in her heels, she needed to tilt her head up to look at him.

“You’re kidding me, right?” Henry snorted. “You can barely stand on those.”

He wasn’t wrong, but it was more because her feet were sore from the constricted space than from the amount of alcohol she consumed, though that definitely played a factor on Em turning her head just when Henry leaned closer to lay a goodbye kiss on her cheek, making his lips land on hers instead.

They just stared at each other until Henry closed the distance again, his mouth returning to hers for a harder, much hotter kiss that had Em pressed against the door. His hands found their way under the hem of her dress; hers to his hair, pulling him even closer, desperation clawing inside her gut because it had been a while for her.

That was only the first of the one-night stands with Henry. Back then, Em thought it would be the only one, but as years passed, whenever the two of them found themselves single and in need of release, they would get together, no strings attached, no commitment, just a purely physical thing that none of their mutual friends knew about.

Her attention snapped back to the present when Henry tugged on her hair until she let his cock out of her mouth with a pop, crawling on top of him to meet his lips for a messy kiss.

“Where did you go just now?” he asked, panting. His hands working on the buttons of her jeans to push them off. “Your mind was so far away.”

Strangely enough, this casual affair they shared made her friendship with Henry stronger because once you’ve seen a person naked and on one of their most vulnerable moments, it could be so easy to open up to them.

“Just thinking about when we met,” Em replied, sucking on his lower lip and Henry let out a weird wheezing sound that it was half a groan, half a laugh.

“That’s was a good night,” he said, rolling them until Em was lying on her back and he was on top of her. His blue eyes, despite being clouded by lust, were still so intense and seemed to be able to look straight into her soul. “But I want you here, in the present with me.”

Henry met her lips so softly and with so much affection that her breath caught in her throat, hand tightening on the sheets beneath her as his mouth descended over her body, kissing and sucking and biting. Lingering over all her pleasure spots and lavishing them with attention.

This was why Em needed to put an end to this thing with Henry. Lately, every time the two of them ended in bed together, it was getting harder and harder to keep the doors closed against the growing feelings in her heart.

To keep herself from not letting the love she felt for her friend Henry to be contaminated by the lust that ignited in her body whenever the two of them fucked, turning this into something else that would definitely end with her heart broken.

“I can hear you thinking,” Henry chided, biting her lower belly and making Em jolt and giggle.

“Sorry, sorry,” she looked down at him with a smile. “Just too much in my head tonight.”

“Let’s see if I can make you relax.”

He smirked at her, his mouth moving lower, planting soft kisses over your hipbones, tongue tracing the waistline on her panties, and anticipation started building in her center. Em wanted to press your legs together to find some kind of friction, but Henry was kneeling between them, his strong hands keeping them open; thumbs rubbing circles on the sensitive inner skin of her thighs and she couldn’t focus on anything else even if she wanted to.

His mouth finally moved lower, tongue teasing her folds through the lace of her panties and she gasped and tried to thrust up but Henry kept her down before hooking his fingers on her panties and pulling them down, exposing her wet cunt to his warm breath and she shivered in expectation.

Henry seemed to be keen on driving her crazy because he was taking it so very slow, kissing and nipping her mound on his way down until finally, his tongue flickered against her clit. Only the briefest of touch but it was enough to make Em buck and moan, her hands coming to his hair and fingers digging in his scalp.

“Stop teasing,” she asked, making Henry chuckle against her and a groan ripped from Em’s throat at the sweet vibrations. “Hen… please.”

“That’s better,” he replied, rewarding her with a broad stroke of his tongue over her slit before he sucked hard on her clit. Her eyes rolled back and she raised her hips to try to get more of it.

Fortunately, Henry seemed to be done teasing because he moved things along, licking and sucking and even nipping very, very gently on her clit, while two of his thick fingers moved in and out of her drenched slit. Every outer motion he crooked his fingers up, hitting right in that spot to make Em see stars.

It was easy to get lost in sensations whenever she was with Henry. He knew her body like the back of his hand and made sure to keep her completely engaged. He kept his eyes on her face, reading her expressions to make sure she was enjoying herself but also because he knew Em loved the sight of him like this, his mouth on her cunt, his eyes dark with his desire for her.

He also made sure to hum and grunt for her, so she could hear how much he loved her taste and smell. Whenever his mouth wasn’t busy, he would also whisper the filthiest things in her ear, because he knew it turned her on.

His free hand roamed her body, touching and kneading her breasts, pinching the nipples to make Em arch and mewl, sending bolts of pleasure that seemed to gather on her core, coiling into a knot of ecstasy that made her writhe and shake. Her body tense with arousal, toes curling and thighs quivering as her orgasm approached like a rushing wave.

Henry also knew exactly when she was close to the edge. Em never needed to let him know and he would always redouble his effort, suck her clit harder, finger her faster, until that knot finally snapped and she arched against his mouth, her release soaking his fingers and chin.

Her body felt weightless like she was floating. Her muscles spasmed with the aftershocks of her pleasure and her mind, always running, was for once pleasantly blank as Em grinned wide, enjoying her high.

She barely noticed when Henry pressed one final kiss to her clit before he crawled on top of her again, meeting her lips and letting Em taste herself. It was one of the things that turned him on, to have her lick her juices from his mouth and chin, letting her tongue running over the rough skin of his stubbled jaw, chasing every last drop and Em felt his cock twitching in response against her hip.

“Fuck me, Hen,” she gasped against his cheek before her lips moved to his ear, nipping the lobe to make him groan. “I wanna feel you deep inside me.”

With her brain still swimming in endorphins, She barely noticed Henry getting up and moving to the bathroom. She only registered the curse he let out as he came back to the room with an empty box.

“Do you have some?”

She gave Henry a look, propped in her elbows. Em was a little too old to go around with condoms in her purse. She kept them on her toiletry bag which was in her suitcase, still at the airport.

“Shit! I really wanted to fuck you tonight.” He dropped the box on the ground, combing his fingers through his hair before climbing on top of Em, his kiss searing and stealing her breath away.

She moaned against his mouth, fingers digging on his shoulders. It had been a while for her and Em shared Henry’s frustration. She wanted to feel him inside her, filling and stretching her in that perfect way only Henry could do.

“Do it,” she declared, meeting his confused gaze. “It’s fine, I have an IUD and it’s not like I’ve been with anyone else in the last four months.”

“Me either,” Henry replied, his forehead resting against hers. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah.” She nodded, smirking at him. “Fuck me, Henners.” He groaned and glared, making her chuckle. He hated the nickname and Em knew it.

“I’m gonna make you regret that.”

He flashed her a mischievous smirk, reaching between the two of them to guide his cock to her slit, pushing inside in one rough stroke and Em cursed and clawed at his back, the sudden intrusion with just that edge of pain made her clench tighter against him and Henry grunted against her ear, pulling her legs around his waist.

“Fuck, Henry!” she hissed breathlessly, slapping his shoulder blade, which felt more like hitting a brick wall. “A little warning would be nice.”

“You love it,” he smirked down at her and nipped at her bottom lip before grinding his hips against hers, making Em moan. “No point in pretending otherwise.”

His movements started slow and deliberate. Henry’s goal was to drive her crazy all over again because he loved to see Em lose control and he loved to gloat over the fact that he was the only guy that ever managed to make her cum more than once on the same night.

Taking her hands in his and pinning above her head, Henry started to add some more strength to his movements, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, making Em mewl at how deep he was going. His mouth on her neck, and collarbone returning to the task of marking her as his, even if the two of them weren’t like that.

Her hips raised as best as she could to meet his movements and welcome him in. Her walls clenching tight as if refusing to let him go and every time, it made Henry grunt and suck harder on her skin before he soothed the spot with his tongue. She arched closer, seeking more as he licked a path from the hollow of her throat to her chin, lapping at the sweat gathering in her skin before his lips met hers again.

Soon, all Em knew was the way their bodies moved in tandem, meeting each other in search of pleasure. Henry praised and whispered dirty things in her ear, while her fingers entwined with his and her heels dug on the small of his back, urging him to move faster, harder, give her everything she craved for.

The knot of pleasure started to form in her core once again, growing and expanding as she could feel every single ridge of Henry’s thick cock filling her up, his pelvic bone slapping her clit at each thrust. She knew he was close too, his motions losing its controlled rhythm, becoming wilder, messy. His grunts turning throatier, his words filthier.

“God, I love your cunt. The way it squeezes me so tight,” he mumbled against Em’s mouth, his breath coming in short pants. “It feels even better without that fucking latex. Shit! I wanna fill you up with my cum. Do you want that? Can I cum inside you?”

“Yeah.” Em nodded, too far gone to form a reply more elaborate than that.

“I wanna see it trickling down your pussy.” Henry’s grin was absolutely filthy and she cried out as his words brought forth her second orgasm of the night.

“Oh fuck, yes!” He grunted his grin widening, his hips snapping harder against hers, dragging out the ripples of pleasure shaking her body. “Just like that! Yeah. Fuck! I’m gonna…”

His words hung in the air as Henry stilled above her, muffling his growl against her shoulder as he spilled inside her and she could feel his cock pulsing against her quivering walls and Em never felt more complete before.

In the back of her mind, a treacherous thought broke free and she couldn’t help but think that she could definitely get used to this. Having Henry every night, without barriers, without anything in the way. Just the two of them. Like it was meant to be.

x(tbc)x Chapter 02

Tag List (use the link in my bio to add or remove yourself)

@toomanystoriessolittletime @meetmeinthematinee @theolsdalova @penwieldingdreamer @fanficsrusz @eevee-of-rivia @reid-187 @howtoruin-someones-perfect-day @sallyp-53 @anxiteyfilledcupcake @pinkzsugar @angelic-kisses13 @futuristic-imbecile @wonderlandfandomkingdom @krazycags01 @beyond-antares @cumberbatchbaps @sgt-morgan @a-really-bi-girl @nonsensicalobsessions @poisonedjoinery @soarocks @partypoison00 @hnryycvll @keiva1000 @shellbilee @ivvitm1109 @babayagakeanu @trippedmetaldetector @missrandomista @stxphmxlls @geralt-yennefer-jeskier @jadore30 @savaneafricaine @foxyjwls007 @bohemianrhapsody86 @thehumanistsdiary @black-ninja-blade @lux-ravenwolf

@i-cant-remember-my-old-login @agniavateira @nadia-rosea @mary-ann84 @littlefreya @cap-barnes @elisewithak @omgkatinka @dearlybelovedluke @jaskierhastwohands @hell1129-blog @rahdaleigh @peaceinourtime82 @shadesofarrogance @wednesdaybraids @thiccgeralt @iloveyouyen @geralt-of-baevia @dancingwendigo @mejana @obsessedwithcavill @watermeloncavill @celestial-vomit @lovethyauthors @henry-cavlll @thethirstyarchive @kittyslove @twlohasmp @lifeofrileyp @iamtheembodimentofhate @luclittlepond @heelsamizayn @radaofrivia @suueeeeeee @wondersofdreaming @adorkabeezle @trust-tequila

if your url is crossed out, tumblr didn’t let me tag you for some reason

#henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x original character #henry cavill imagine #fanfic #smut #series #original character

448 notes · View notes

lilacmoon83 · 3 years

Text

Clarity

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 14: Sparks Fly, Pt 1

David winced, as Snow helped him gently put his shirt on and then began buttoning it. He smiled at her and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. She looked up at him and their lips met in a passionate kiss. Snow mewled into his kiss, as she slipped her arms around his neck. He cradled her head and moved his lips over hers, deepening their kiss and she felt her knees almost give out. He usually had that effect on her, but always held her up and kept her from falling. Their bliss was interrupted by someone clearing their throat and she was almost lightheaded, in a good way, as their lips parted.

"I have your discharge papers," Whale said sourly.

"Thanks," David said, not even hiding his smugness, as Snow cuddled against him.

"You'll want to keep the bandage on the wound for a few days. You can bathe, but be careful not to get it too wet for a while. The stitches are dissolvable, so you won't need to come back unless you notice any swelling or the pain doesn't subside within a week or so," he advised, as he scribbled on David's chart.

"Did you change his emergency contact information?" Snow asked, as he looked up.

"Yes...the nurse took care of that," he replied, as he watched him kiss her hair.

"Anything else?" David asked.

"No...you're free to go, but I hope you know that you need to refrain from any vigorous activity for a while until that wound heals a bit," Whale replied. David smirked.

"Yeah...you'd like that, wouldn't you?" he said, as they walked out of the room, arms around each other, and headed for the elevator.

"He doesn't look happy about you possibly disobeying his orders," she mentioned, as they got into the elevator.

"Yeah...that's not why he's pissed," David said.

"Why do you say that?" she asked, as the elevator door closed.

"He's pissed because you're with me and not him," he replied. But she shook her head, as she hooked her hand on his elbow.

"I doubt that...Whale has a reputation. I was just another notch on his bedpost," she said sourly.

"I'm sure that's what he tells people, which infuriates me, but I don't think so," he replied. She cocked her head to the side.

"Why?" she asked.

"Because I know what it's like to be with you. It's not something you forget and it's not something you want to lose...ever," he replied simply, which made her blush.

"Charming…" she murmured, as she leaned her head against his arm. He could still give her butterflies in her stomach. He smiled and kissed her tenderly, as the elevator door opened into the first floor lobby of the hospital. People gawked at them, as they walked toward the exit, arms around each other, but neither noticed.

"Let's go home…" he whispered to her. She smiled.

"Let's...but you know we really can't do anything yet," she whispered back. He smirked.

"I've had worse than this and we managed," he reminded her. She grinned.

"We did...didn't we?" she realized, as they hurried to her car.

~*~

Neal rolled over in bed and found Tamara's side empty. She wasn't far though, as she came back into the room with coffee and donuts.

"Morning…I went to that little bakery down the street. The bagels didn't look at all like New York bagels though, so I opted for the donuts," she replied. He smirked.

"Yeah...you're not going to find good bagels here," he said, as he took a sip of the coffee and checked his phone. He smiled, as he saw texts from Henry.

"So...when do I get to meet your son?" she asked.

"Uh...well, he's in school right now, but maybe we can meet him after. His adoptive mom is doing her best to keep him away from us, but Dad says he's going to file an emergency injunction this morning," Neal replied.

"For what exactly?" she asked.

"Well...the custody battle might take months and will get ugly. He thinks it's unfair that Emma and I don't even have visitation in the interim, so he's going to argue before the judge today," he replied.

"That's great...you better get cleaned up and I hope you'll let me go with you," she said.

"Sure…" he replied, as he saw her reading the paper.

"If you're looking for Pulitzer type journalism in that paper...you're going to be disappointed," he warned with a snort.

"Yeah, most of it is pretty bland, but there is one story here that is fascinating. By August W. Booth," she said. He paused on his way to the bathroom at that and took the paper from her.

"What? Do you know him?" she asked, as he skimmed the story.

"Uh no...just sounds like a new guy," he lied.

"Do you really think the Mayor and this other woman lied and forged a marriage certificate for a comatose patient to keep him away from this other woman...Mary Margaret? It sounds like daytime soap opera stuff," she scoffed.

"It does...but Mary Margaret was Henry's teacher, until Regina got her fired. Henry loves her and she and David are really good people. Regina on the other hand...the woman we're going to be fighting in court, is as vengeful as they come," Neal replied.

"I wonder what Mary Margaret did to piss Regina off so much," Tamara asked curiously.

"I don't know...but I guarantee it was nothing that warrants anything she's done," he said, as he went into the bathroom to clean up. Tamara smirked and kept reading. She dialed a number.

"There's an event coming up...it's called Miner's Day. It looks like a big deal and most of the town will be gathered in one place," she reported, before hanging up and she went back to waiting on Neal.

~*~

Regina stormed into the courthouse and into Albert Spencer's office. She slapped the court papers down on his desk and looked at him.

"Care to tell me how the hell you're allowing this to happen?" she hissed, as he looked at the order.

"Contrary to popular belief and much to my own dismay, I don't control everything that goes on in the judicial system in this town," he said.

"Mr. Gold filed the correct paperwork and now a Judge will hear the case," he added.

"Then you had better be good at what you do and convince the Judge to rule in my favor," she hissed.

"I will do my best, but that's only part of your problem," Spencer replied.

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

"I was about to send the courier over with the order, but since you're here, I'll serve you myself," he replied, as he handed another order to her.

"What is this?" she asked, as she looked through it.

"Mr. Gold has filed an emergency injunction on behalf of your son's biological parents," he explained. Her eyes widened.

"On custody?" she asked. He nodded.

"He's arguing that they should be granted some sort of visitation in the interim before the custody proceedings begin," he replied.

"This is unacceptable! He is my son!" she shouted.

"He is theirs too, unfortunately and the father didn't know about him. I don't think I have to tell you that biological parents carry a lot of weight in the courts," he said.

"Then you had better fix this! Talk to the Judge and make sure he knows what is in it for him if he does the right thing and rules in my favor," she replied.

"Don't you think I tried that already?" he asked irritably.

"What did he say?" she asked.

"He won't even take my call. His assistant said that he had taken Mr. Gold's suggestion and sequestered himself until the hearing this afternoon. Looks like he is more afraid of Gold than of us," he replied. She clenched her teeth.

"For now…" she fumed. If she ended up having to share custody of Henry with Emma and Neal...then she would have to take drastic measures.

~*~

The curtain was pulled around the bed and the blinds were closed to squelch the daylight, as they made good use of their alone time. Despite his tender wound, they had indeed managed to satisfy their need for intimacy. Clothes were scattered around the bedroom and they were bare, entwined together. She was straddled across him, as he was gently propped up on the pillows, joined as one, moving gently together. Lips met again and again, with moans and mewls escaping now and then, as a vocal declaration of their pleasure. She collapsed gently beside him and rested her head against his chest, as they came down and caught their breath.

"Told you we'd manage," he murmured to her, before pressing a kiss to her hair. She smiled up at him.

"You did...and I think that was a little more than managing," she said, in a dreamy tone, as they cuddled.

"Then I was on my game," he said, with a chuckle.

"You're never not on your game, my love...but now I'm starving," she replied.

"Me too...I'm on the pancakes," he said, as he got up and slipped into a pair of sleep pants.

"You're supposed to be resting," she said, as she sat up and pulled the sheet over her unclothed body.

"I can handle making us some pancakes," he said, as he pecked her on the lips. She smiled and watched him go into the kitchen, before she fished his shirt from the floor and her underwear. She went to the door and picked up the rolled newspaper that was there and brought it inside, before setting it on the table. She started some coffee and then sat down at the table, while he mixed the batter.

"Oh my God…" she said, as he looked up at her.

"What is it?" he asked.

"This story...someone wrote a story about us," she replied. He rolled his eyes.

"Great...more lies about our torrid "affair"," he complained.

"No, it's not that...someone wrote a story about how Regina and Kathryn came up with a phony marriage certificate to keep us apart, because of Regina's hatred of me," she replied.

"That sounds pretty close to the truth...so what's it doing in that newspaper?" he asked, as he read the byline.

"August W. Booth?" he asked. She shook her head.

"I have no idea who that is...or who he was back in our land. But I think we need to meet him," she replied. He nodded.

"Agreed. Just another adventure for us," he said, as he kissed her cheek. She smiled and went to pour the coffee, while he made the pancakes.

~*~

Kathryn didn't at all like the stares she was receiving that morning, as she walked into the diner. She tried to ignore the whispers and looks, as she approached the counter. Was Regina right? Had Mary Margaret helped facilitate this story to get the attention and hatred off her? It had certainly seemed to work by the cold look Granny was giving her.

"Can...can I get a cappuccino to go?" she asked.

"Coming right up," Granny replied. So she was still serving her, which hopefully meant she wasn't sure whether to believe the story or not.

"Thanks," Kathryn said, as she placed the cup in front of her.

"Don't thank me...I'm still serving you, because I know how intimidating the Mayor is, but you didn't have to go along with it," Granny replied.

"I...I didn't. That article is a lie. David was my husband," Kathryn argued.

"That reporter says the marriage license was forged. He says he had it authenticated and it came back as a forgery," Granny said, citing the article.

"Well...he's lying! Mary Margaret is a tramp and she stole my husband," Kathryn replied, as she grabbed her cup and stormed out of the diner. Regina was right...and she was going to confront the little homewrecker herself...

#Snowing #SnowxCharming #Charming family #Emma Swan #Neal Cassidy #Regina Mills #Henry Mills #Mr. Gold #romance #adventure #family #drama #Clarity #A 7x15 am AU

1 note · View note

galaxy-parchment · 4 years

Text

Vampire AU

1 : 2 : 3 : 4 : 5 : 6 : 7 : 8 : 9 : 10 (you are here) : 11 : 12 : 13 : 14 : 15 (coming soon)

Woops guess who forgot to link chapter 9 to all the other chapters. I hope the sheer length of this mostly explains why it took a while to write mostly because of the whole trying not to directly plagiarise the comic but also I’ve been really busy with thankfully good things like weddings and birthdays and award ceremonies and all that fun stuff.

Of all the things Lanyon expected while he was checking on why nobody had shown up the Bethnal Green for the cleanup, Henry being covered in blood and losing control of everyone in the building wasn’t in his list of possibilities. Thankfully Henry didn’t seem to be in any sort of pain but rather was staring at the chaos of lodgers running up the main staircase.

His shirt was completely covered in blood and not going out to feed since the Moreau incident certainly wasn’t helping that annoyingly ravenous feeling he was getting in the back of his mind. God, he really should have gone out yesterday. He took his mind off of it by instead looking at Henry’s face, which had much less blood on it and turned to the ground with a very worried look etched into his features.

“Henry?”

“What?” his head perked up, drawing him out of whatever thought he was lost to, he turned and noticed who it was, “Robert! What are you doing here? I thought you were helping out in Bethnal Green today?”

“I was, but the lodgers that were supposed to be helping out today never showed up, also you’re bleeding” Robert said, carefully avoiding looking down and doing anything out of turn.

Henry quickly glanced down at himself and met Robert’s eyes just as quickly, “Don’t worry, it’s not my blood” despite the apparent reassurance Robert was getting, Henry still looked quite nervous.

“Is… is that meant to make me less worried? Have you been getting enough sleep?” he reached up and felt Henry’s forehead, which was cold rather than feverishly hot like he’d expected it to be.

Henry glanced up at the hand on his head with a look of panic. He quickly pulled his hand down and laughed nervously “I’m fine, Robert, just a little off schedule but I have it under control!” a knife suddenly appeared under Henry’s chin.

“Doctor Jaaaaaay…” came the calm voice of Rachel from Henry’s right hand side “Where is Master Hyde?” she yelled abruptly. Robert was lost as Rachel bickered with Henry but struggled his way back to listening to avoid looking down at the blood that was soaked into Henry’s vest. The first word he caught was ‘Hyde’ and his eyes widened in alarm.

“What’s all this about Mr Hyde? You’re not still in contact with that scoundrel are you?” he interrogated. He quickly found himself bombarding Henry with questions about that criminal. Why on earth would he still be on speaking terms with Hyde? He was not only a criminal but he’d been outed as a vampire. As much as it pained him to say, he hoped that Henry would be reasonable enough to stay far away from affairs with vampires if he could help it. He hoped there wasn’t any foul play in all of this.

A small metallic beetle suddenly zoomed into the room and halted in front of Henry, surprising all three of them as it blurted out a robotic voice that Robert just made out to be “Transmission for Dr Henry Jekyll”

Before Robert and Rachel could process what was happening Henry was suddenly out the door and off to find the lodgers that he explained were out in Survey. Robert and Rachel simply stared for a moment before the former uttered “What just happened?”.

Robert decided he may just have to take matters into his own hands.

Jekyll rushed to his room to get the bloodstained clothes off of him as soon as possible and tossed them into a bag and away from his sight. He touched a finger to his teeth to check them. Thankfully, most likely because he’d fed last night, his fangs were barely longer than usual and Jekyll took the blessing in stride. Now he had to keep himself covered for the trip to find Bryson and his crew.

He took out a top hat with a wider brim than most, flipped his collar up despite how unflattering it was to his jawline, picked up a parasol and put on gloves so that he only needed to cover his face while he was out to avoid suspicion.

He spotted the balloon a mile off and walked as fast as a gentlemanly stroll would allow him, careful to keep to the edges of the path where it was shadier. Eventually he made it to the crash site and grimaced at the ladder leading up to where the group was waiting. To his annoyance, Helsby was waving for him up to climb the ladder, so he didn’t really have a choice in the matter. Jekyll huffed, closed and tucked his umbrella under his elbow and looked down and awkwardly climbed the ladder, nearly burning himself on a spot of sunlight on his way up. He clambered up onto the elevated ground that the balloon was resting in and tidied himself up before looking to the men and giant octopus in the basket.

“So what have you been up to on this fine adventure, gentlemen?”

Bryson looked into the distance dramatically and went on a convoluted tangent about how dangerous and mysterious their latest ‘journey through the cosmos’ was. After a few minutes of monologuing Jekyll grew bored and clasped his hands together cheerfully.

“I see! So what you’re saying is you got lost!”

“If you must put it into unscientific terms,” Bryson deadpanned.

“Not to worry, I’ll have a team out here to extricate your dirigible as soon as they’ve extricated themselves from Frankenstein’s clutches”

Bryson’s eyes widened, “Frankenstein’s awake? Why didn’t you say so earlier?”, neither he nor Helsby wasted a moment climbing out of the basket and sprinting back down the path Jekyll had just traversed, the accompanying octopus monster dragging itself along in tow at an alarming pace.

Jekyll stared defeatedly as the last of the lodgers were swept up in Frankenstein’s spell. Somewhere in the back of his mind Hyde stirred. Jekyll could feel the smug grin on him from whatever shadow he lurked in.

“Oh, poor Henry! After all you’ve done for the lodgers they abandon you for some clown with a famous name! I guess no matter how hard you try to hide all of those ghastly vampiric tendencies, the can still see how much of a monster you are, fangs or no!” he cackled, revealing himself in the shade of the nearest tree. Jekyll climbed back down the ladder as he spoke and reopened the umbrella, taking his time in making his way back.

“Why can’t you just stop existing for a week? You don’t normally hang around while I’m in control, what makes this different? You’ve already been to Blackfog for a night, as agreed.”

Hyde let out a growl of anger, “What? So you can just stop worrying about me forever? How convenient for you to just let me disappear forever!”

“You know that’s not true!”

“Right, because who else is going to do the sloppy murder you need to do to stay alive? Face it, Henry, if we weren’t a vampire then you’d probably have tried to get rid of me ages ago!” Hyde fumed, his shadowy form becoming less defined, “and for the record, you’re lucky that bartender knows not to mess with a vampire, that was by far the shoddiest luring I’ve ever seen and you’re lucky you found some depressed bastard that was probably baiting himself to get killed”

“I really don’t need to deal with this right now,” Jekyll groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose and eager to avoid talking about last night, “if you’re going to hang around, you could at least help me get a handle on this Frankenstein problem.”

“Go to hell, traitor!”

“Don’t be like that! Frankenstein is our childhood idol, I need a way to win her over, but I can’t do that so long as she has this stubborn idea that I’m some kind of imposter scientist.”

“She’s not too far off, when was the last time you actually did any experiments? These days you’re just worried about making sure nobody figures out you got turned so that you can get them to throw money at your beloved Society.”

Jekyll looked up in realisation, “Huh… I think you might be onto something… I’ve been so caught up in keeping the Society afloat and focusing on hiding all of my secrets that I haven’t had time to follow my own scientific pursuits! Sure I’ve occasionally tried to make a cure but never anything I could be open about, of course Frankenstein would think I’m a fake!”

A confused look formed on Hyde’s face, “Uh- yes she… why are you agreeing with me? Where is this going?”

Before Hyde knew what was happening, Jekyll started out on a tangent about everything he remembered about alchemy and the various plants surrounding them and was adamant that he’d found just what he needed. Much to Hyde’s chagrin his insistence that Jekyll was simply blabbering and had no hope of ever winning over Frankenstein were ignored in favour of Jekyll returning to his enthusiastically wild scientific endeavours and explaining his plan all the way home until eventually he had to shut up to avoid suspicion from the sudden presence of other people who wouldn't take well to listening to Jekyll talking to thin air about the tiny flowers he had clasped in his hand.

#the glass scientists #tgs #fanfiction #galaxywrites #henry jekyll #edward hyde #robert lanyon #rachel pidgely #the girls are FIGHTING #also in the actual comic this scene is probably my favourite it just encapsulates everything i love about sabrina's jekyll and hyde dynamic #j&h #i keep thinking this is loaded with typos but then I check and I can't find anything #which btw if you ever find typos in my works please tell me as soon as you see them even if you just dm me or something

22 notes · View notes

qualquercoisa945 · 5 years

Text

Shiver, But Shiver With A Friend

Title Inspiration: Party Tattoos by Dodie

AO3 Link

this is mostly just fluff, with a dash of angst at the end. have fun!!!

trigger warnings: none i believe, but do tell me if there are any!!

After Kat’s outburst, Anna had noticed three major things.

She’d noticed the way Kat and Boleyn had begun to stick closer- in fact, it seemed like Kat was avoiding the other queens, apart from Boleyn. She assumed they’d talked- Kat needed to talk to all of them at one point, at least in Anna’s opinion, but if she’d rather go one of them at a time, she figured that was her choice. Still, it worried her, the way Kat seemed to have retreated back into her shell.

She’d also noticed Jane’s glances towards the pair. She’d stare at them, with a near grief struck look, then look away. She knew she thought she was being sneaky, but she’d notice. She’d gotten good at noticing small changes in mood in people- they all had, honestly, you had to when you were married to him, but Anna had made sure that skill stayed sharp around those she cared about as well.

And finally, she’d noticed how much less time Jane had been spending with them. She’d been out of the house more in general, and was usually the last to arrive to the theatre (something typically reserved for Anna herself) and the first to leave. She’d even had to ask Grace to cover for her on emergency, something that very rarely happened. “A doctor’s appointment, they said they can’t reschedule, I’m sorry,” she’d explained when asked about it, but she hadn’t given them any more details.

Which only worried Anna more, but she knew asking Jane herself would be like talking to a brick wall. So she talked to the others.

She decided she’d talk to Kat last- she wasn’t sure how the girl felt, and trying to talk to her by initiating conversation could lead to a less than desirable outcome. Boleyn had been sticking like glue to Kat’s side, which meant she and Jane hadn’t been spending much time together either. Which left Aragon and Parr.

And really, Parr was closer to Jane, so it would’ve made more sense to ask her first, but Anna and Aragon shared a dressing room, and it just so happened that, on Thursday, the day Jane was absent from the show, Boleyn got dressed after it faster than both Anna and Aragon had.

“Hey, do you have any idea what’s up with Jane?” Anna had asked nonchalantly, as she wiped away the makeup from the show.

“What do you mean?”

“She’s been more skittish. Spending less time in the house. And now she asks Grace to cover for her only one day in advance?” She asks rhetorically, spinning in her seat to look at Aragon. “Seems pretty weird to me.”

“I suppose so…” Aragon murmured in response, staring at the mirror in front of her before turning to face Anna. “It is pretty odd of her to ask for someone to cover so shortly in advance. Maybe she’s worried about Katherine’s… outburst?”

“Jane wouldn’t fake a doctor’s appointment just for that. It’s the fact that she couldn’t reschedule the doctor’s appointment that worries me.” Anna paused for a moment. “For that to happen, it means two things.” She held up her hand in a closed fist, raising one finger for each of her points as she announced them. “One, the appointment is on high demand. And two, the appointment is urgent enough that it can’t wait. Do you know what it means when that’s the case?”

Aragon nodded, staring at the table in front of her grimly. “The thing the appointment is about is really serious.”

“Exactly. And you know how anxious Jane gets when she’s sick. You also know how anxious Kat gets when any of us are sick. This is an awful combination, especially so soon after that outburst.” Anna finished, staring at Aragon as she waited for an answer.

“I suppose we have to wait and pray that nothing bad happens.” She finally replied, clutching her cross necklace while staring back at the table. Then she sighed and stood up. “I’m gonna head out. See you back home?”

Anna nodded, then watched as her bandmate grabbed her bag and left their dressing room. Once she heard the click of the door closing, she sighed, then turned back to the mirror, wiping away her makeup while she mulled over what could be happening, despite her mind’s best efforts to get her to relax.

Kath had been feeling like absolute shit the last few days. Yeah, sure, she’d talked to Anne. But that had been it. After that, the two had basically been glued at the hip, or better yet, Kath had been avoiding being near the rest of them apart from when strictly necessary. Thankfully, her band mates seemed to have caught onto this and had been respecting her space, which she appreciated.

However, her efforts were foiled when, after leaving her dressing room after the last show, she bumped into none other than Anna of Cleves. In the most literal sense of the word- they bumped into each other, causing Kath to stumble backwards ever so slightly.

“Jesus, sorry, I didn’t see you. You okay?” Anna asked. Kath didn’t give her an answer apart from a nod, which Anna retributed, and for a while they just stood there, both staring at the ground.

“Do you wanna walk home with me, Kat?” Anna suddenly offered, and Kath perked up at the familiar nickname. She nodded again, and Anna turned towards the exit, although still looking at Kath with her usual cocky smirk. “Try and keep up then.”

And with that she was off, leaving Kath to run after her to catch up. “That was mean, you know?” “Yeah.”

“Tsk, rude.”

They both laughed as they exited the building, and then fell into silence as they began their walk home.

Not much more than a minute had passed when Anna spoke again. “Hey, Kath?”

“Hm?”

“Do you remember all the balls we used to dance at?”

Kath let out a quiet chuckle at that- for as much as she had utterly despised her time at court, the balls they would throw when Anna was visiting were one of the few times she actually enjoyed during that short period in her life. “Just about the only times I actually liked back then.”

Kath stood by the edge of the ball room, surrounded by men and women all much older and much more well educated than her, at least in affairs such as this- a royal ball.

Being raised at a place such as the Norfolk house meant that, while she was taught how to dance and sing and such, she had never learned how to present herself around royalty, which proved to be a challenge after she had been hoisted up the ranks to Queen of England, wife of Henry VIII.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a familiar- and very much welcome voice. “Care to dance with me, your highness?” Katherine turned around to be met with none other than German princess Anna of Cleves, former Queen of England and Beloved Sister of the King, her hand outstretched.

“Anna, please. Just Kath, formalities are dumb.” She giggled, taking her hand nevertheless. With a smile, she allowed herself to be led to the center of the ball room, setting her hand on Anna’s shoulder while the other woman set her free hand on Katherine’s waist.

And just like that, they began the familiar dance they had taught each other over the few months they got before Henry began courting Katherine. Anna lead, as always, and Katherine found herself giggling as they went over every twist and turn and even the little lift that always made her heart do a little jump.

As they danced, Katherine couldn’t help but to admire Anna- so calm and carefree, so confident in herself. She felt… jealous? And yet that didn’t quite fit what she was feeling. Admiration? It seemed closer, but not quite what it was either.

She was torn from her inner monologue as Anna leaned closer, whispering in her ear just loud enough to be heard over the musicians. “This is becoming a little much. Would you accompany me on a walk around the castle grounds?”

Katherine smiled, before gasping softly and looking at Anna excitedly, almost hopefully. “Can we go see the hounds?” When she received confirmation, she grinned, having to hold back a squeal. “Then let’s go.”

Anna chuckled at this, taking her hand from Katherine’s waist before pulling her to the side and sneaking them both out of the room.

Katherine ran ahead as they made their way out of the castle and over to where the hounds stayed when not out hunting with Henry. She could hear Anna’s footsteps a few meters behind her, but really she was more focused on the dogs.

She gasped when one of them looked up and towards them, grinning as she knelt beside him to pet him. She heard a quiet laugh from behind her, and turned around to look at Anna.

“I apologize. Your excitement is adorable, though.” Anna commented as another of the dogs approached. Kath blushed, watching as Anna turned around to pet him. “Well hello there.” She laughed as the dog tried to jump to lick her, holding him back. “Excitable, that one, isn’t he?” Katherine chipped in, standing up. She noticed the hound she’d been petting stand up, and reached out her hand to pet his head absentmindedly.

The two walked around the castle grounds, the two hounds they’d been petting trotting not too far behind them, talking about everything and nothing. And when silence fell, it was one of the few times Katherine didn’t feel scared when such a thing happened. Silence with Anna was comfortable, not suffocating like with mostly everyone else, and they didn’t even need to try.

They eventually stopped by the lake, sitting near the shore with the hounds free to run around nearby. They just sat and watched them, once again falling in comfortable silence.

Silence that was unfortunately cut short by a courtier- Lawrence, she remembered; he’d joined the court not too long after her, being roughly around her age, if not a tad older. “Lady Anna, Lady Katherine.” He bowed before his queen and former queen, before rising to his full height. “Your Majesty requests your presence so that he may give the final toast and terminate the ball.”

Katherine bit back a groan at that- she knew much better than to argue with Henry, especially since he hadn’t been in the greatest mood lately.

Anna huffed quietly as she stood up, then turned to offer a hand to Katherine. “C’mon then, we shouldn’t keep him waiting.”

Katherine smiled softly up at her, taking her hand and hoisting herself up. She noticed Lawrence whistle to get the hounds to come back to them, and then they began their walk back to the castle itself. Katherine stayed in the back, staring at the ground.

“Hey, we’ve been over this. Chin up.” Anna corrected softly, using her index finger and her thumb to lift her chin. Katherine gave her a shy smile, and Anna smiled right back at her. “Das ist gut.” She praised, before turning back around and quickening her pace to catch up to Lawrence, something that Katherine was extremely thankful for, as it allowed her to hide the blush that she could feel warm her cheeks.

Yes, she would later decide, what Katherine felt for Anne was more than affection, and moreover, what she had with those men was definitely not love.

The first ball that Anna had attended after Kath became queen flashed through her mind, although she had to linger on that final interaction.

Kath and Anna being gay hadn’t been a secret in a while, and although Anna was a lot more open about it, Kath didn’t make a secret out of it either. Admitting it to herself, however, had caused her to rethink a lot of situations from her past life.

And that had been one of them. She had a crush on Anna back then, plain and simple. It had taken her a while to realize it (curse her obliviousness), but she’d realized it, which painted nearly every interaction they’d had in a new light.

It also brought forward the question of, does she still have a crush on Anna? As far as she was aware, Kath’s answer was no, she no longer did. And after being separated for 500 or so years, you could hardly blame her. Still, the question stayed in her mind, lingering in the back and taunting her every so often. Kath ignored it though: with feelings, she’d rather just go with the flow and hope she didn’t do anything terribly wrong.

“Kat?” She nearly jumped when she heard Anna call her name, startled out of her train of thought, before laughing nervously to herself.

“Yeah?” Anna chuckled. “You were zoning out.” She pointed out, and Kath simply nodded, not sure the conversation was heading. “If you don’t mind me asking… What prompted that explosion the other day?”

Kath looked down at that, hesitating for a moment before sighing. “I was just… tired of keeping it in, I guess. My anger, I mean. What Catherine said wasn’t even that big of a deal, it was just… the straw that broke the camel’s back.”

Anna nodded, and Kath sighed quietly before leaning against her side. She felt Anna wrap her arm around her shoulders, and she let herself sink into her embrace. “Thanks. For not being mad at me for snapping.”

Anna didn’t answer, and for a moment Kath was afraid she’d screwed up. She was about to speak again when-

“Do you remember when you first became my lady in waiting?” Anna asked, unusually quiet and unusually serious.

Kath nodded, smiling sheepishly to herself. “I was really nervous.” She mumbled, fidgeting with her hands while the pair walked.

Anna nodded. “Yeah, I could tell. You looked completely out of your element. And you looked so confused…” She paused for a moment. “That’s why I spoke English around you. Figured I should make your time there a little easier.” Kath looked up, frowning as Anna kept her gaze away from her own. “Guess that was all for nothin’ tho, huh?” She muttered, letting out a quiet chuckle as she tightened her grip ever so slightly.

“Anna?” Kath asked softly, trying to get her to look at her.

“I’m fine, I just-” She stopped, sniffling, before finally looking down at her, smiling sheepishly through watery eyes. “Sometimes I wonder what would’ve happened if I’d tried harder. Actually, if I’d tried at all.” And with that, Anna let go of her, turning away from her to wipe away tears threatening to spill.

Kath stared at her for a moment, then studied their surroundings. Spotting a bench, she reached out gently to hold her hand, pulling her towards it and sitting them down there. “Anna, just listen to me for a moment, will you?”

Anna nodded, still teary eyes despite her best attempts to collect herself, and yet Kath continued. “You and I both know you couldn’t have done anything. At best, it’d change nothing. At worse, you’d get yourself killed alongside me. And don’t pull the “Oh, you don’t know that” card, because you and I both know trying to argue with Hen-” She choked when trying to say his name, emotions still much too high. “With him. So don’t blame yourself, Anna. It’s not your fault.”

Anna stared at her for a moment, then pulled her into a tight hug, which Kath quickly retributed. “I was so scared, when I finally remembered you,” She began, all but pulling Kath onto her lap, “that you hadn’t come back too. I’m glad we can be together again.”

Kath let out a soft whimper, pressing herself closer. “Yeah, me too.” She mumbled, then hissed quietly as she felt a sharp pain in the lower right side of her abdomen. “Shit, god damn it.” She muttered, moving her hands to hold onto her waist tightly.

“Are you alright?” Anna asked, pulling away near immediately, sitting there awkwardly.

“Yeah, just…” Kath slowly let go, and although the pain got slightly sharper for a moment, it didn’t take long for it to begin to lessen. “Period cramps. My period was due soon, so it’s no biggie, don’t worry about it.”

Anna nodded. “Want me to carry you home?” She offered with a small smile. Kath hesitated for a moment, then fell into her open arms, way too tired and in too much pain to care.

She was vaguely aware of Anna standing up and beginning to walk, but her brain decided to just, turn itself off for the rest of the way home, only really becoming aware when she was gently set down in front of their house, and even then she let herself lean against Anna until they had to walk again.

Once inside, Kath stretched up to give Anna a kiss on her cheek, at which Anna smiled before returning with a kiss on Kath’s forehead. “Take care of yourself, yeah?”

Kath nodded, pulling her into a quick hug before mumbling a tired “Good night, Anna” and heading upstairs to her room.

#six the musical #but it sure felt nice when he was holding my hand #anna of cleves #catherine of aragon #jane seymour #katherine howard #writing

61 notes · View notes

queenofcats17 · 5 years

Note

Okay the last prompt was SO amazing! I loved the parts with Sammy, Wally, and Murray! Do you think you could try writing Murray attempting to gain their trust? Maybe he feels guilty so he tries to help out a bit around the village to make up for the stuff in the past? While Henry tries to get into the safe-house to corrupt Annette, but Bendy and Boris happened to be there at the time and they try to talk some sense into him? Sorry if this idea isn’t very good. You don’t have to write it! 😅

Sorry this took so long.

None of the Lost Ones were happy to have Murray in their village, but neither Sammy nor Wally could in good faith allow Murray to just go back to Joey. They knew what would happen if they turned him away. He would become like them, another voice in the cacophony of the ink. So they, begrudgingly, allowed him to stay. No one was outright cruel to him, but there was an icy sort of politeness in the way they spoke to him. Murray’s guilt over the entire affair, already weighing heavily on him, increased tenfold. So he decided he would do his very best to make himself as useful as possible. He offered multiple times to go out on food runs with Wally or Sammy.

“Are you kidding?” Wally snorted when Murray asked to come with him and Sammy. “You’d get yourself killed!”

“Harsh as that was, he’s right.” Sammy agreed. “Joey’s Searchers would attack you on sight and I’m fairly certain you lack the combat capabilities to fight them off. It’s safer for all of us if you stay here.”

“But I want to help,” Murray said weakly.

“Why dontcha hand out today’s rations then?” Wally suggested. “Everyone’s probably pretty hungry.”

“You know where we keep the soup, right?” Sammy asked, slinging a bag over his shoulder. Murray nodded dejectedly, watching as the two men disappeared into a puddle. Well, it looked like he was on food duty. He headed to the shack where they stored the soup, taking it out and dishing it into little bowls. There weren’t a lot of bowls, but the Lost Ones liked eating out of them. It made them feel more human. The Searchers tended to just eat the bacon soup cans and all.

The Lost Ones and Searchers began to appear in the communal area, all of them sensing it was about time to eat. It was borderline impossible to tell time in the studio, but they always ate at about the same point every day, so their bodies told the time for them. They were surprised to see Murray with the food, but they took it anyway. It wasn’t like he could do anything to them here. They each murmured thanks to him as he gave them their food.

“You’re welcome.” He allowed himself a small smile, his heart warmed as he watched them eat. They’d lost their forms, their humanity, and yet they kept going. They’d found a family down here, taking comfort in each other’s presence. They found joy in one another.

“If there’s anything you need help with, please tell me,” Murray said once they were all done as he collected the bowls.

“You really want to help?” Jack asked, gazing incredulously up at Murray. He was the de-facto leader of the group when Sammy and Wally were gone.

“I do.” Murray said. “I really do.”

“Well…Alright.” Jack nodded slowly. “We need some help fixing the holes in the roofs of the shacks. I hope you’re good with a hammer.”

“I can learn.”

Jack let out a short barking laugh, a grin spreading across his face. “Well, alright. Let’s see if we can put you to work.”

“Should I go get the tools?” A Lost One asked. Jack nodded and they departed to track down the toolbox. Some of the Searchers who were regaining their identities liked to play pranks on the others, usually by hiding objects.

“It might be dangerous for you to get up on the roof.” A Lost One pointed out. “We don’t have bones or internal organs, so we won’t be hurt if we fall. You will.”

“I’ll be careful,” Murray said. He was a little nervous to get up on the roof, but he really did want to help. And this was what they needed help with right now.

“If you’re sure…” The Lost One seemed to frown, beginning to wring their hands.

When Wally and Sammy returned, Murray was helping some of the Lost Ones patch up the holes in the shack roofs. The Lost Ones were gathered around the shack, prepared to catch the frail human if he fell. The other Lost Ones on the roof with him were watching him worriedly, panicking whenever he nearly slipped. Wally looked up at this scene and grinned.

“Will you look at that?” He laughed. “Looks like he’s starting to get along with everyone.” Sammy let out a small sigh of relief. He’d been a little worried about what would happen when they left Murray alone. But everything was alright. His flock even seemed to be worried about the scientist.

“Yes, I suppose he is.” He smiled. Maybe things would be alright in regards to Murray. Perhaps they could even find a way to reverse what had been done to them with Murray’s help. Sammy felt a warmth in his chest at the idea. Things were going to be alright.

But not everything was alright everywhere in the studio. Now that Joey was sure Henry would do as he asked, he was determined to finally get rid of Annette once and for all. She was a thorn in his side and he wanted her gone. Henry was sent on his way to the safehouse where he knew Boris and Bendy were protecting Annette.

“Now, don’t cry, Henry.” Joey whispered as Henry approached the safehouse door. “You have nothing to be sad about. She’s going to be a part of our family!” Henry just whimpered quietly, raising his hand and knocking on the door. There was the sound of movement from inside before Boris opened the door.

“Hello?” He looked around for a moment or two, before finally looking down and seeing Henry. His face fell.

“Oh.”

“Bo? Who is it?” Bendy’s voice came from further in.

“Take Annette to the bedroom and shut the door,” Boris said, his voice calm and even, but betraying an underlying sense of panic. Bendy didn’t answer. Henry could hear movement further in, followed by the sound of a door shutting. A moment or two later, Bendy appeared behind Boris.

“Henry?” Bendy’s eyes widened. Henry perked up at seeing Bendy, immediately moving to hug him. But Joey’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Push them aside and find the girl,” Joey said. “You can dote on dear Bendy later. You have a job to do.” Henry whimpered, drawing back. Bendy, however, had no such qualms. He threw himself onto Henry, starting to sob.

“I missed you!” He whimpered. “I missed you so much!” He started to cry inky tears onto Henry’s shoulder.

“Ben…dy…” Henry’s arms lifted to wrap around Bendy.

“Yes. This is very cute.” Joey said testily. “But the girl. We need to get to the girl.” Henry instinctively held Bendy tighter, trying to block out Joey’s voice.

“H̀͠e͡n͝r̨ỳ̵.” Joey’s voice held a warning now.

“You don’t have to listen to him, Henry.” Boris’ voice was soft. “We’ll find a way to fix this. We will.” Bendy had moved on to apologizing now, sobbing into Henry’s shoulder.

In Henry’s mind, Joey let out a huff.

“I can tell we’re not going to get anywhere with this.” He sighed in irritation. “Come back to me. We’ll try again later.” Henry’s body moved of its own accord, drawing away from Bendy. Bendy fell to the floor, Boris kneeling beside him to support his friend.

“So…rry…” Henry managed to get out before he was pulled away by Joey’s will. Bendy’s lower lip quivered.

“We’ll fix this,” Boris reassured Bendy as the little demon burst into tears once more. He hated seeing Bendy like this. He hated how miserable everyone was. There had to be a way to fix this. But how?

#bendy and the ink machine #batim saudade au #fanfiction #Murray Hill #sammy lawrence #jack fain #the searchers #the lost ones #boris the wolf #bendy the dancing demon #joey drew #Henry

11 notes · View notes

gray-autumn-sky · 6 years

Text

An Affair to Remember: Birthday Cake

For the love @laura-p-g. Written for Inspired by OQ Week.

Robin is feeling insecure about having Roland on his birthday. Regina helps him come up with a plan to make the day special.

Robin’s shoulders slump forward and he presses two fingers to his forehead, closing his eyes and drawing in a long, deep breath. He grips his cell phone and tries to tamp down… whatever it is that he’s feeling, and wishing more than anything, he’d just ignored Marian’s calls for the evening.

But of course, when he saw her number flash across his screen, ignoring her call hadn’t even occurred to him. Marian didn’t call often, and when she did, it wasn’t from her cell phone, but from the house phone--and when she did, it wasn’t Marian who was on the other end of the line, but Roland.

He looked forward to those calls, barely ever letting it ring more than twice. He loved hearing about his son’s adventures in first grade and about all of his friends, he enjoyed listening to him talk about his favorite TV shows and what books he was reading, and even the random stories of the trouble he’d gotten himself into, like when it’d been cold and snowy out so he’d took his hockey stick and a puck down into the basement and ended up shattering a lamp that was one of Marian’s favorite antique store finds.

So, when he saw his ex-wife’s cell phone number flash across the screen, his stomach sank a little and his heart beat a little faster and by the time he said her name, a hundred worst-case scenarios had already filled his head.

Nothing terrible had happened, though, and in fact, Marian was calling with what she thought was good news--and until he hung up the phone, he’d thought it to be the very best news.

The plans for Roland’s birthday party had to be switched--something about a bounce house being double booked--so, she and Mulan moved the party up a week, and that meant he’d get Roland on his actual birthday. He’d readily agreed to come and pick him up from school as as soon as they hung up, he’d sent a quick text to John to let him know he’d have to manage things on his own at the store that day.

Then he realized what that meant.

He’d be in competition with Marian and Mulan--and when put up against the two of them, and whatever they had planned, he’d surely lose and end up disappointing his son.

Disappointing Roland was bad enough, but to do it on his birthday seemed an extra harsh blow--and while that was only his fault, admitting that was difficult, so instead, he placed the blame on Marian’s shoulders.

“Well, Henry’s completely wiped out,” Regina says, rounding the corner into the dining room where he’s sitting--and as he looks up, watches as her eyes shift to the game of Clue still scattered around the table.

“Uh, sorry,” he murmurs, setting his phone down and shifting a bit awkwardly. “I, um… got a bit distracted.”

“It’s fine,” she assures him. “I’m… more concerned about the look on your face.”

“Hm?”

“You look like you could strangle someone.”

His eyes roll. “Just… my ex-wife.” She nods and offers him an understanding little smile, her eyes shifting down to his phone and before she can say anything, he sighs. “That’s not fair,” he tells her, looking up. “I’m mad at myself. Not her. She didn’t do anything wrong. She’s… actually just trying to do me a favor.”

“But it’s easier to be mad at her.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, sighing a little as he reaches for a the little notepads and pencils tossed to the center of the game. “I just--”

“I get it.”

“Do you?” he asks, chuckling softly. “Care to explain it to me? Because I don’t get it.”

Nodding, Regina takes a few steps in and smiling gently as she reaches for the game box’s top. “Being a single parent is hard enough,” she tells him, her shoulders rising and falling with a shrug. “But you get to be a single parent with two other people--two other people who, good intentions or not, get to be with your son all of the time--and I think that’s harder than doing it alone.”

Robin nods. “I get him on his birthday--for that whole weekend, actually.”

At that, Regina’s eyes narrow and her head tips to the side. “Okay,” she murmurs slowly. “Now I’m confused.”

Chuckling softly, he nods. “The weekend before, Marian and Mulan are throwing this huge party. All of his friends from school are going to be there and all the kids from his hockey team, too, and--” He stops, drawing in and releasing a short breath. “She called from the store. Roland was with her and I could hear him. He’s so excited for this party. They’re picking out stuff to go in gift bags and she hired an actual fucking Spiderman to come and sit in a photo booth and take pictures with the kids.”

“Wow. Sounds like she can really throw a party.”

“There’s going to be a bounce house and this ridiculous cake that looks like it should be on the damn Food Network.” His eyes widen as he feels his heart beat a bit faster. “Regina, she sent me a picture of that damn thing and--”

“Robin...”

“What?”

“It’s just a party.”

“It’s a party with a real, live Spiderman,” he deadpans. “How are me and my store-bought sheet cake supposed to compete with that?”

Smiling softly, Regina reaches out, her hand falls to his arm. “You’re not going to compete,” she tells him gently. “And you’re not going to give that child a sheet cake from whatever grocery store is nearest to your house.”

“I’m not?” he asks, genuinely curious of what he’s supposed to do instead or how anything he picks will compare. “I can’t bake or--”

“I can.”

“You can bake?”

She nods, rubbing her hand over his arm. “I have this recipe that Henry loves. I’ll teach you.”

“But--”

“And Roland is going to be thrilled because he gets a bonus birthday.” She grins again as he draw in a breath he listens. “And he gets to spend a whole weekend with you, doing things he doesn’t get to do all of the time.”

Considering it, he nods. “We could go hiking. He loves doing that.”

“There you go.”

“I could teach him to go ice fishing.”

Regina nods, a little grin tugging up at the corner of her mouth. “And while I think that sounds like a terrible way to spend a cold day in February, I’m sure Roland will love it.”

“We’ve never gone before.”

“See?”

He feels himself calming down. “You know, your house is on the way and--”

“You want to stop?”

He nods, feeling a smile pull onto his lips. “Giving Roland any time with Henry is only going to win me points, and I think it’d be the nice for the four of us to get some dinner, maybe catch a movie or... something…” His voice falters as her expression changes. “What?”

“The four of us,” she repeats. “I just...I like how that sounds.”

“Me, too.”

Leaning in, she presses a soft kiss to his lips, then as she pulls back, she reaches for his hand, giving it a soft tug. She tosses down the box top and leads him to the kitchen, and he watches as she pulls the necessary ingredients from her cabinets--and he can’t help but laugh as she opens up the pantry door, tugging a black apron from a hook and tossing it at him before selecting a cookbook.

It’s not something that was published; instead, it’s made of construction paper, looks like she bound it herself at an office supply store--and when she sets it down on the counter, she traces her fingers over the title--Henry’s Favorites--written in blue glitter. He can’t stop himself from smiling when she looks back to him, explaining the book was a mother’s day gift the previous year and one of her most treasured possessions.

Regina opens up to the page with a recipe for “Best-Ever Birthday Cake” and he chuckles softly at a picture of Henry, wearing a green and yellow party hat, smiling widely with his tongue poking through a space in his mouth where a tooth had once been.

Together, they mix the ingredients and he holds his breath as they pour them into a glass baking dish. He puts the cake into the oven and Regina sets a timer before sliding her arm around his waist and resting her head on his shoulder as they wait--and all the while, she listens as he plans Roland’s birthday weekend.

He’s almost startled when the timer rings and a grin edges onto Regina’s lips as she hands him a pair of gray over mitts, letting him know that he can do the honors of pulling the cake from the oven.

Nodding, he takes the mitts and slips them onto his hands, slowly pulling open the oven door and grabbing hold of the baking dish--and almost as soon as he withdraws the cake, he’s overwhelmed by the soft, warm smell of honey and vanilla.

Turning back to the counter, he sets it down and feels a flicker of both pride and disappointment when he looks down at the golden cake and Regina tells him it’ll be another fifteen minutes before it’s cool, and longer until then can test it. Then, she links his arm through his, reminding him that no birthday cake is complete without copious amounts of frosting, as she tugs him toward the pantry--and he finds himself feeling so much calmer and grateful that fate allowed their lives to collide.

#oq ff #outlaw queen #an affair to remember verse #oq au

9 notes · View notes

bee-kathony · 6 years

Text

Casualties of War | What We Did in the Dark

Thank you @jules-fraser for this wonderful moodboard!

Response to the @thelallybrochlibrary ‘Queerlander’ prompt #13: Claire has a relationship with a female nurse during the War.

Chapter 1: Bedside Manners | Chapter 2: The Telegram | Chapter 3: What We Did in the Dark

The nurses were allowed to choose one night off each month. Of course Emily, Cece, Nancy and I all chose the same night. We decided to go to the Cinema and watch a new flick that just came to the screen called, “The Man in Grey”, starring Margaret Lockwood and James Mason. I had no idea what the film was about but I was more interested in the company.

We were told we would be all transferred to a field station in Caen next month, so tonight we wanted to enjoy the little sliver of freedom and normalcy.

Nancy led the way into the small theatre, it wasn’t crowded as it was a Wednesday evening. “Let’s sit back here,” Emily said and pulled me in to follow her into the last row.

“Not in the back, Em. I don’t have my glasses and I won’t be able to see.” Cece said to us and walked forward to the fourth row.

I looked at Emily and she shrugged, “Well, we won’t be taking during the film anyway… so it’s not like we all need to sit together.” I said and waved at Nancy to go sit with Cece up closer to the screen.

Emily and I sat beside each other on the back row, the only two people this far back. We hadn’t bothered with popcorn or drinks, life wasn’t quite that normal that we felt we could indulge ourselves as we once did.

“Do you know what this film is about?” I asked Emily as she placed her arm on the armrest between us.

“No, not much. Only that it’s set during the war time and there’s some sort of an affair.” She told me.

I blushed when she said affair. For weeks I had been wondering if what Emily and I had been doing was considered an affair. I suppose in the end, that’s what it was.

The lights dimmed and the screen lit up with a war time propaganda commercial. You couldn’t turn a tv without seeing a short film like this. Always telling us how we could help our country, save our men and win the war.

I could see Cece and Nancy several rows ahead of us, chatting to each other, about the cute new solider that had just been admitted yesterday, I’m sure.

Just as the propaganda ended and the film’s opening credits began I felt Emily’s hand brush against my thigh. I looked down to where her hand was and all I could do was watch as her hand began to slowly stroke my leg.

When she moved her hand to the hem of my skirt at my knee however, I turned to look at her, “Em? We’re in public, you can’t be serious?” I asked her, my heart beginning to race. Surely she wouldn’t touch me like this in public of all places. It was rather dark, I told myself, but no. This couldn’t be happening.

“It’s so bloody dark in here, Claire, no one will see a thing.” She whispered in my ear and placed a gentle kiss just under, on my neck, “But they will hear you, if you can’t keep your mouth shut.”

Hearing Emily say this made my pulse speed up to an alarming rate. I pretended to look ahead at the film while I nodded and felt Emily’s hand continue its path up my skirt.

She pushed up my skirt so it was now halfway up my thighs, her hand dipping in the space between my thighs, “Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ,” I sighed as her knuckles grazed against my mound.

“Shhh,” She half laughed and turned her body more towards mine in her seat. I bit my bottom lip when her fingers brushed against me. To make it easier for her and for me, I spread my legs on the seat and even I could smell my arousal.

Emily’s fingers teased along the inside of my thighs and I pressed my hips upwards, begging for her touch. “Mmmm, not just yet, Claire.” She gave my leg a gentle squeeze and returned her attentions back to my mound.

“Uhhh Christ,” I moaned as she finally pushed aside my panties, her fingers touching my sensitive skin. I had longed for her to do this to me, ever since I had first comforted her, those many weeks ago now.

I gripped the armrest with both of my hands as she slid one finger slowly up and down my slit. My legs started to tremble slightly as I thought about the fact that this was the first woman who was touching me like this… and I liked it very much.

“Please,” I begged in an exasperated whisper and turned my head to look at her. She had her face turned down to look at her hand between my thighs but she looked up then. “Ok,” She smiled and then leaned in to kiss me as she slid one finger inside me.

I moaned as quietly as I could make myself, against her mouth and my thighs clenched around her hand in response.

Emily kissed me until I felt my lips were swollen and then pulled back and faced the movie. “Don’t look so obvious, Claire.” She laughed and reluctantly I turned back to the screen. I watched as the characters in the movie talked about something absolutely pointless. The only thing that mattered was the feeling of Emily’s small delicate hand inside me.

My breath hitched in my throat as she pressed her thumb on my clit, just as I had done to hers. Instinctively I reached for her wrist and put more pressure on it, urgent for her to go deeper. She followed my lead and slid another digit inside of me. Her fingers weren’t as long as Frank’s had been but they did the job just as fine, if not better.

Emily moved her hand faster and my leg reflexively kicked the back of the seat in front of me and I heard a “Shhh!”, come from somewhere in the theatre. We both laughed and tried to keep quiet. I was so glad Emily had decided to sit in the back row.

“Faster,” I urged her, her fingers spreading inside me and touching my most intimate place. I leaned my head back against the seat, my body now slumped in the chair, my legs spread wide. I felt Emily’s other hand clasp over my mouth and only then realised I had been moaning. Oh God.

I gently bit down on the inside of her palm and she squeaked. All the blood rushed to my head as my body began to convulse, every nerve on fire as Emily’s hand moved faster.

Finally, I relaxed in the seat and sighed, “Have you been wanting to do that this whole time?” I asked and looked up at her, grinning.

“Yes, ever since I saw you. I know I had Henry but ever since I was a little girl, I found myself attracted to other girls.” She slid down in her chair to match my position. “But you are the first girl — woman, that I’ve ever really wanted to do that to.” She blushed and I reached for her hand, intertwining it with mine.

“I never even thought of doing something like that with another woman.” I closed my legs and pulled my skirt down over my knees. “But I’m glad it was you that made me think differently.” I smiled and brought my hand to cup her cheek.

We watched the rest of the movie, holding hands. All throughout the film we both snuck glances of the other and found ourselves continually blushing and giggling.

“Did you like the film?” Nancy asked us, rejoining with me and Emily outside.

I nodded, “Oh yes, very educational, don’t you agree Em?”

Her eyes went wide and her cheeks turned bright red, “Um, yes, very good, good film,” was all she managed to say.

“Ladies, I don’t know about you but I’m not ready to let our one night of freedom end just yet! What do you say we go to a pub and find ourselves some nice men who’ll buy us some drinks?” Nancy asked us all and we agreed. We all linked arms and started walking down the road, in search of a nearby pub.

Cece pointed one out called “The Ridge” and we agreed that it looked safe enough. As we walked through the doors, I dared to place my hand on Emily’s hips briefly.

There was a group of soldiers, on leave I assumed, taking up most of the tables in the bar.

“There’s a table over in the corner!” I shouted over the loudness of music and bar chatter.

We slid into a booth and the waiter came over to take our drink orders.

“Whisky,” I said and reached behind me to take off my coat.

My cheeks were still flushed from my orgasm and as I crossed one leg over the other, I felt the wetness between my thighs.

Emily sat next to me in the booth and her fingers barely touched the tips of mine. I let my fingers glide over her knuckles and brush against the back of her hand.

“Thanks.” I said to the waiter and raised my glass to the other girls, “Cheers!” And took a welcoming sip of whisky, letting it burn down my throat and warm my insides.

We chatted about the film, or should I say, Nancy and Cece chatted about the film while Emily and I just nodded and made approving sounds. All the while, our hands were in a sort of dance of their own under the table, fingers touching here and there.

An hour later we decided we better head back to the hospital, with an early shift tomorrow and a guaranteed hangover, we needed to get some sleep or it would be absolute hell.

Saying our goodnights, Emily and I walked into our shared room and I switched the light on to get ready for bed. The lights shut off immediately and I looked up to see if the light had burnt out. Then I felt small hands slide behind me and over my waist.

“We don’t have to go to sleep just yet, do we Claire?” Emily asked, her breath warm and smelling of whisky. I shook my head and brought my hands to rest over hers, bringing them to the buttons of my shirt.

Emily undid each button, one by one and slid the material off my arms. Turning to face her, I reached out to her shirt and instead, pulled it up and quickly off. Our hands busied themselves with each others skirts, unzipping and pulling until we both stood in nothing but our bra and panties.

“I don’t really know what to do,” Emily whispered, her eyes glancing up and down my body. I walked closer to her and reached behind her, finding the clasp of her bra and unhooking it easily.

“Don’t think, Em. Just touch me how you would want to be touched.” I said and while I said it, I grew nervous. I had never done this with a woman, I knew it was different, no penis and all.

I reached behind me and unhooked my bra, the thin material catching on my erect nipples before falling to the ground between our feet.

“Touch me, Em.” I sighed and she brought her hands to the waistband of my panties, hooking her fingers on either side and dropping to her knees in front of me, pulling the material down. I stepped out of the panties and kicked them aside, her hands made a hot trail down my thighs as she brought her mouth just over my mound.

Letting my hands rest on her head, I wound my fingers through her hair to encourage her. My hips bucked as I felt her warm tongue on me, licking slowly up my slit. She met my eyes and I nodded for her to keep going.

Biting my bottom lip, I watched her head begin to bob back and forth as she licked faster and then almost crashed against her as she slid a finger inside me.

“Christ,” I moaned and pulled on her hair. She moaned against me, sending vibrations all throughout my body.

“Em,” I sighed but she didn’t budge, “Em, please,” I pulled on her hair and again and she stopped licking me. Bringing her up to me, I crashed our lips together, our tongues meeting in a frenzy. I tasted myself on her and relished in the taste of my pleasure.

Sliding my fingers into her panties I stroked against her mound and then pulled her panties off. We both held each other now, fully naked, our bodies pressed so tightly together.

Emily broke the kiss and then walked to my bed, laying back, her hair spreading out on the pillow behind her and her body inviting me to take it.

Without a word, I climbed on top of her body and straddled her hips. I bent down to kiss her and tasted the rum on her lips from the bar. Spreading her legs with one hand, I wasted no time in inserting a finger into her wet and ready slit. She moaned and arched her back, pressing her breasts against mine.

I sat back up and with my other free hand, I began to caress her nipples. Pumping my finger slowly in and out of her, I then started grinding my hips in a figure eight movement above her. “Mmmm, you’re heaven, Claire,” Emily moaned my name and I slid another finger inside of her walls.

Biting her lip, Emily brought her hand to my slit and reached inside of me, her finger stroking me and pulling me closer to her. We began then to move our hips in time with one another while our fingers pumped in and out. Our juices mixed and I reluctantly pulled my fingers out and she gasped but then when I pushed her fingers out of me and pressed my wet pussy against hers, she moaned.

Sitting up to cradle my body against hers, Emily began to gyrate her hips, our mounds slick and we pressed them harder and it took everything in me not to cry out. The walls were thin and there was no telling how much trouble we would be in if someone heard us both orgasming.

“Claire,” she moaned, her mouth at my neck.

“Emily,” I sighed, my hands sliding along the expanse of her bare back.

With her mouth sucking on the skin of my neck, I climaxed, my body filled with spasms of pleasure and waves of desire. Emily’s mouth moved down to my breasts and I heard a squeaking sound as she bit down gently.

“Cum, Em,” I moaned and pressed my finger back inside her, begging her to come on my hand.

Emily made squeaking sounds of her own as she released, the tension leaving her body and relaxing on mine.

As we both came down from our highs, we lay together, our legs intertwined, still naked.

“I think I love you, Claire. I really do.” She said and kissed just above my left breast where my heart was.

“I think I love you too, Emily.” It was true, even if I was still married to Frank, even if what was happening between her and I was just a fling or a war time comfort, I did love her.

#queerlander #the lallybroch library #qlpromptexchange #claire and emily #claire beauchamp #claire randall #claire fraser #claire in the war #claire before jamie #claire and emily kissing and touching #outlander fanfic #claire and a lady

40 notes · View notes

unfolded73 · 7 years

Text

This Graceful Path (7/19)

Summary: Emma has just moved in with Mary Margaret and started working as a deputy in the Storybrooke sheriff’s department when she meets Killian Jones, the town’s introverted harbormaster. When a prominent Storybrooke resident is found murdered, Emma tries to juggle solving the case with new friendships, parenthood, and romance. A Season 1 Cursed!Killian AU.

Rating: Explicit per CSBB guidelines (violence, sex); more of an M on unfolded73’s scale. The sex, when we get there, is not extremely graphic in nature. Same with the violence.

Content Warning: This fic contains two major character deaths, one canon and one not. (You’re already past them.) Content warning for depiction of alcoholism in this chapter.

Total word count: ~ 75,000

Acknowledgements: Thank you to @j-philly-b for betaing this monstrosity. Thank you to @caprelloidea for all of the read-throughs and cheerleading; not sure I could have written it without your excitement early on. Thank you to @teruel-a-witch for the original prompt on tumblr which sparked this fic. Thank you to @pompeiiablaze for the wonderful art which accompanies Chapter 3 and also will accompany later chapters. Thanks to the CSBB mods (@sambethe in particular, who had to look at my check-ins) for your support and for enduring my neuroses.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 – AO3 Link

Chapter 7

As soon as Emma arrived at the sheriff’s station the following morning, she regretted that she’d asked David to work an early shift. The last thing she wanted was him seeing her powered by little more than booze-soaked regret. The night with Mary Margaret, Ruby, and Ashley had been fun, and a much-needed break, but now she had to face the morning hungover.

“Whoa,” he said when he saw her, her face still pale and haggard, she assumed. “You okay this morning?”

“Um… to be honest, I drank too much last night, so no.” She felt vaguely ashamed, as if it was her own father seeing her in her sorry, hungover state. Which was ridiculous; she’d never even had a father.

“Oh, yeah? Sorry about that.”

“I’ll live. It’s my own fault.” She flopped down in her desk chair, hoping she could find something mindless and quiet to do until she was feeling a little more human.

“Hey, you know Killian Jones, right?” David said, walking over and hovering in the doorway to her office.

Why did everyone keep talking to her about Killian? “Yeah. I mean, I don’t know him well…”

“He helped me corral a stray dog down by the docks once, and he seemed like a good guy. Figured I should make an effort to make more friends, so I was going to invite him over to watch hockey or something. If you think he’d be interested.”

It was endearing, she had to admit, the way David was seeking her advice on how to woo a new friend. “I have no idea if he’s interested in sports at all, but sure, ask him.”

“Yeah, okay. I think I will.” He started to walk away, then paused. “Was… uh, was Mary Margaret with you last night?” David asked, his attempt to be nonchalant painfully transparent.

Not for the first time, Emma wondered if he just assumed that she knew about his and Mary Margaret’s affair. As always, it made her feel extremely awkward, so much so that she almost regretted hiring David as her deputy. Almost being the operative word; he was, as she expected, a natural at the job. “Yeah, she was.”

“I hope she’s not feeling too bad this morning,” he said, and the yearning was written so plainly on his face that Emma almost had to laugh. She couldn’t think of any two people less suited to carrying on a clandestine love affair than David Nolan and Mary Margaret Blanchard.

She cleared her throat. She felt the need to say something, something that would set things between Mary Margaret and David to rights, something that would prevent her roommate from getting her heart broken. but she knew such a thing did not exist.

“Look,” he said softly, “I know you probably think I’m a bad guy, and I can’t really blame you—”

“I don’t think you’re a bad guy,” Emma responded quickly, uncomfortable with the idea of David continuing to talk to her about this. “But I do think that a person I’ve come to care about is going to end up getting hurt, and I don’t want that to happen. If that makes it seem like I don’t like you, or don’t… I don’t know, approve of you, then I’m sorry. My only interest in this is her heart not getting broken.”

“Mine too,” David said. “I swear it.”

“I’m sure you think that’s true. But love is like a drug. You get addicted to it, and all you care about is the high, and it doesn’t matter what lies in your way of getting it. That’s how people get hurt.”

“That’s a very cynical attitude.”

Emma shrugged. “That’s life.”

~*~

She didn’t go back to the Rabbit Hole several days later because she knew Killian went there. She went because it had been a hard week, and she had very little to show for it, and she needed a drink. Still, she couldn’t help but notice the little thrill that ran up her spine when she saw him at the bar, any more than she could stop her feet from walking over to him.

“Swan,” he said in greeting, lifting a glass of dark liquid in her direction. “Off duty, I hope?”

Emma pulled herself up onto the barstool next to him and nodded. “Finally.” She flagged down the bartender and ordered a whiskey, because that’s the kind of night it was.

They sat in companionable silence for a while, nursing their drinks. Emma cast sidelong glances at Killian, relishing the burn of the liquor in her chest. Killian’s prosthetic hand rested on his knee, and she could see that there were zippers on the sleeves of the leather jacket he wore, and she wondered if it was more difficult for him to get the prosthesis through a sleeve. She wondered what kind of sailing accident could result in the loss of a hand. She wondered a lot of things.

“I see you’re no more interested in wearing a sheriff’s uniform than Humbert was,” he said, giving her a sidelong glance.

“They aren’t very flattering. And it’s not like people don’t know who I am; I don’t need a uniform to let people know I’m the law.”

“While that red leather jacket is quite fetching,” he said, and she could practically feel his eyes on her, raking up and down her body. She should have hated it. She really, really didn’t. “I’ve always thought so.”

“Given a lot of thought to me in my leather jacket, have you?”

“Oh, you have no idea.” He grinned at her, but the grin didn’t quite reach his dark-shadowed eyes.

“No offense, Killian, but you don’t look so great. You feeling okay?”

He took a swig from his glass, which she could now smell was rum. It fit with his whole tortured seafarer vibe, she thought. “I don’t sleep well.”

“Ever, or lately?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Still investigating me, Swan?” He raised his hand to the bartender, signaling for a refill.

“Why do you call me by my last name all the time?”

“I don’t know. ‘Swan’ suits you.”

“Because I have an abnormally long neck?”

“Because you’re pale and graceful. And you have a lovely neck.” His tongue darted out, licking his bottom lip.

“Okay, weirdo.” She took a drink from her whiskey and hoped that the dim lighting of the bar hid her blush.

Once Killian had downed a large swallow of his refreshed drink (and once she had averted her eyes from the way his neck muscles worked), he said, “I get nightmares.”

“What?” she said, feeling hazy and a little mesmerized. By the atmosphere, by his voice. By the way his neck looked when he drank rum.

“The reason I’m not sleeping well. I have nightmares,” he explained.

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.”

They sat in silence for some time, Killian continuing to drink like it was his job. “Does the drinking make the nightmares better or worse?” she asked him.

He chuckled, his jaw clenched. “Worse at first, but then I continue to drink until it makes them better.”

“Until you pass out, you mean? That doesn’t sound like a healthy lifestyle.”

“Oh, it definitely is not,” he said. “So, I suppose you’re settled in Storybrooke for the foreseeable future, eh?” It was a clumsy attempt to change the subject, but she allowed it.

“I guess I am.” Emma sighed heavily. His confessions about his nightmares and his drinking made her want to be straight with him. To let her walls down a little. “Now that I’ve gotten to know Henry, I don’t know if I can be away from him again. I already lost so much time.”

He turned and looked at her for a quiet moment, a small smile on his lips, one that this time reached his eyes. “He’s a good lad. I never really understood how Regina managed to raise a boy so full of hope and optimism, but now I know.” He raised his glass to her. “It’s you, Swan.”

“I didn’t have anything to do with his upbringing.”

“Must be something in your genetics, then.”

Emma snorted. “If there’s a gene for hope and optimism, then it skipped a generation.”

Killian laughed at that. “Are you saying we’re a black hole of despair and hopelessness, sitting here at this bar and sucking in all the light around us?”

“Something like that,” she said after another sip of whiskey.

Killian levered himself up from his bar stool, swaying slightly. “Well, this hopeless bloke needs a trip to the lavatory.” He dropped into a bow, and Emma was afraid for a moment that he might lose his balance and topple over. “Begging your pardon, love.”

Emma rolled her eyes, watching him weave an unsteady path to the bathrooms. It occurred to her for the first time to wonder how many hours he’d been sitting here drinking.

When Killian didn’t return after what seemed like more than a reasonable amount of time for a man to pee, she put enough cash on the bar for her own drinks and got up and to go looking for him. She didn’t particularly want to see what the men’s room of the Rabbit Hole looked like, but if Killian had passed out and clocked his head on a urinal, she probably should help him.

Rounding the corner to the short hallway that led to the bathrooms, she almost collided with him where he was leaning against the wall.

“Hey, you okay?”

He looked at her with a glazed expression. It seemed that his last few drinks were hitting him all at once. “‘M fine.”

“Did you pee?”

“Aye.” He was too drunk to be embarrassed at her inquiry after his bathroom activities.

“Okay, let’s get you home then.” Emma put an arm around him, guiding him out of the hallway.

“You goin’ to take me home and take advantage of me, love?” he said as he willingly went along with her. He wasn’t so drunk that he couldn’t move under his own power, but she kept her arm around him just in case.

“Not a chance,” she said, glancing at the bartender with a raised eyebrow.

The bartender waved her away. “He’s good for it,” he said.

Together, they left the bar, the wind whipping into them and stinging their cheeks with its icy fingers, a few desultory snowflakes falling from the sky. Emma looked longingly at her car, but unfortunately, she’d had just enough to drink that she doubted she was sober enough to drive.

“All right, we’re walking,” she said. “You up for it?”

Killian held up his prosthetic hand. “I don’t drive; I walk everywhere.”

Emma led them in the direction of the beach and his apartment. “There are plenty of people with a missing hand who drive,” she said. “You’d probably just need something on the steering wheel that would be compatible with your prosthesis. Not that you’d be driving right now; if you did, I’d have to arrest you.”

“I’d never endanger the populace that way, love.”

“Whatever. I’m just saying you could drive if you wanted to.” They trudged along the poorly lit sidewalk, and Emma was very aware of the way her arm was still slung around him. He felt warm and solid under his leather jacket. She couldn’t help but think about the fact that her best working theory for Gold’s murder right now was that someone had followed Gold in a car. If Killian didn’t drive, that was one more reason that he couldn’t have done it.

“You really don’t have to see me home,” he said after a while. The cold air seemed to have sobered him a bit.

“Yeah, I’m not gonna take the chance of you ending up dead in a ditch somewhere.”

“Why Swan, I didn’t know you cared.”

“It’s either I walk you home or I throw you in the drunk tank; your choice.”

“Believe me, I’ll take any excuse to have you see me to my bed.” He stumbled (God, his feet are really big, she thought, staring down at them), but managed to right himself before he pulled them both to the ground. Emma focused on getting them to his apartment and ignored his clumsy innuendo.

Finally, they made it to his front door. Killian was sober enough to pull his keys out and unlock the door, saving her the discomfort of rooting through his pockets. Still, she followed him through the dark space and watched as he shucked his jacket and kicked his shoes off before collapsing onto his bed fully clothed. “Sure you don’t want to join me?” His voice was muffled by the pillow.

“Yeah, I’m fairly sure,” she responded, rolling her eyes and turning to go. “Sleep well, Killian.”

“Emma,” he called, and she turned back, surprised at his use of her first name and at how suddenly clear his voice sounded.

“What?”

“Thanks for escorting me home.”

“Goodnight, Killian.” With a last long look at him stretched out on his bed, she left the apartment.

On the front steps, she collided with another person. “Oof, sorry,” she muttered.

“It was my fault.” The man wore coveralls and an easy smile and smelled faintly of engine grease. “Got called out on a late tow job.” Billy was emblazoned on his uniform, and Emma remembered Killian mentioning his neighbor. Billy finally seemed to register her face. “Hope there’s no trouble, Sheriff.”

“No, just making sure Killian got home from the bar,” she said with a thumb pointing back at his door.

“Ah. Well, I’m sure he appreciated it.”

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Billy nodded. “You’re probably not going to remember this so many weeks later, but November fifteenth; do you remember seeing Killian come home that night?”

Billy’s eyebrows went up. “The night Gold was killed?” Reluctantly, she nodded. “Yeah, actually I do. I was sitting near my front window when he walked up to the porch.”

She arched an eyebrow. “How do you remember it being that particular night two months ago, and not some other night?”

“Because my friend Mikey was over here hanging out. He’s a paramedic, and it wasn’t that long after I saw Jones get home that he got called out on a job. He told me later, it was to get Gold’s body.”

“Did Killian look normal?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Were his clothes dirty? Was he carrying anything unusual? Did he seem upset?”

Billy blinked at her. “Is he a suspect?”

“Just answer the question.”

“No, I didn’t notice anything. He looked normal.”

Emma watched for any sign of a lie but saw none. “Okay, thanks. I’ll see you around.”

It wasn’t exactly an alibi, but the whole picture pointed to Killian being an innocent man. As she walked back to the Rabbit Hole and her car, which she was now sober enough to drive, she realized she was only now really and truly crossing Killian off her list of murder suspects. Which meant she’d been halfway lusting after him while still thinking there was an outside shot he’d killed somebody. “How fucked up are you, Emma?” she muttered to herself as she trudged down the sidewalk, her hands jammed in her pockets and ears going numb from the cold.

The rumble of an engine made Emma stop and turn around. A motorcycle pulled up beside her, slowing to a stop. She watched, wary, as the driver pulled his helmet off, revealing a handsome man with wavy brown hair, perhaps a few years older than she was.

“Evening. I was wondering if there are any hotels in town?”

She gaped at him for a second. She couldn’t remember any other tourists coming through (other than herself) since she’d arrived in Storybrooke. And wasn’t that a little bit odd for a seaside town in Maine, even with the weather getting colder?

“Granny’s has rooms to rent,” she finally said. “Go straight here, and then take a right at the light.”

“Thanks.” He reached out a gloved hand for her to shake. “I’m August Booth.”

His grip was solid, almost too tight on her smaller hand. “I’m Emma.”

~*~

She saw the stranger again the following morning when she stopped into Granny’s for a coffee. He was seated at one of the tables, enjoying a very large breakfast.

“I see you found the place last night,” she commented, stopping at his side. His leg was jiggling with pent-up energy.

“I did; thank you.” He gestured for her to take the other seat, but she shook her head.

“Just stopping in for a coffee, thanks.”

“Suit yourself, Sheriff.”

Emma raised an eyebrow. “You know who I am?”

August smiled an easy smile at her. “I mentioned to Granny that an Emma had directed me here, and she said you were the sheriff.”

“Ah. So what brings you to town, Mr. Booth? Vacation?”

“Not exactly.” He took a bite of his pancakes and gestured to the other chair again. “As it happens, I could use your help.”

With a sigh, Emma sat. Ruby, who had been watching and seemed to suss out the situation, brought Emma a cup of coffee in a to-go cup. She met Emma’s gaze and surreptitiously rolled her eyes at the stranger across from her before slinking away again.

“What do you need my help with?” Emma asked, reaching for the container of sugar and working the lid off of her cup.

“I’m a writer. And when I read that the mysterious and wealthy Mr. Gold had been murdered, I couldn’t pass up the possibility that there might be a story here.”

Emma shook her head as she added sugar to her coffee. “I’m not going to discuss an open murder investigation with you, Mr. Booth.”

“Call me August,” he said with a wink. “And I’m not asking for you to show me all of your case files. Maybe simply a small nudge in the right direction. You and I might be able to help each other.”

“Anything I’d be willing to tell you is in the local paper. I’m sure if you stop by their offices, they can help you.” She stood up from the table. “Enjoy your stay, August.”

~*~

“You got my message!” Henry shouted, running toward the bench Emma was sitting on.

It was a chilly and bright Sunday afternoon, and Emma had been lying around the loft in her pajamas, debating the wisdom of taking an afternoon nap, when she heard the crackle of a walkie-talkie from up in her bedroom. She’d found an old set in the sheriff’s station, and had given one of them to Henry. He’d been over the moon with excitement about the idea but had been surprisingly restrained in using the walkie-talkie, probably assuming that if he abused it, Regina would figure out that something was up.

Henry had summoned her to this particular bench along Main Street, near the old library, and so here she sat. She wasn’t sure how he’d gotten out of the house on a Sunday without Regina noticing, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Even so, she couldn’t help but be glad to see him.

“Yeah, I got your message. Did you eat lunch already? We could get something at Granny’s if you want.”

“I’m not hungry,” Henry responded, which made Emma raise her eyebrows in surprise. He almost never turned down the opportunity for some pancakes and hot cocoa, no matter the time of day. “But if you want to eat—”

“No, I’m good. Mary Margaret made a huge breakfast this morning, so I’m still recovering from that.”

“It’s funny how even though she doesn’t remember that she’s your mom, she still treats you like her daughter.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “She likes to cook, kid. Since I’m her roommate, I’m the beneficiary, that’s all.” She pushed aside the thought that she did feel mothered by Mary Margaret sometimes. And she didn’t hate it.

“If you say so,” Henry said, shrugging off her denials.

“Anyway, you said you had information critical to Operation Cobra,” she said indulgently. Sometimes she could almost pretend that Operation Cobra was just a game they played and was not seated in Henry’s genuine delusion that the residents of the town were all fairy tale characters.

“I do. I was thinking about how all this started with my storybook, and that made me start to wonder if there are others. Books, I mean. We already know that everyone in Storybrooke isn’t in the book, but there could be other books! We don’t know.”

“Okay, sure,” she agreed, worried where this was going, worried that she wasn’t handling it right. She’d felt the instinct several times to grab Henry and whisk him into her car and run off to Boston or New York, somewhere that he was away from Regina and where she could maybe get a second opinion on his psychological problems. But that would turn both of them into fugitives, and she doubted that would be an improvement for Henry. More fundamentally, she wasn’t sure if she was capable of being his mother, but a part of her wanted to find out.

“So haven’t you always wondered why the library in town is locked and boarded up?” He pointed to the building behind them. She had wondered that, and moreover, she’d thought it was a weird place for a library, that big building in the center of town with a clock tower on top of it.

Emma shrugged. “I guess I assumed there wasn’t any budget to maintain it?”

“My mom must have sealed it up to protect something. Or hide something. It’s the only explanation.”

“I don’t think it’s the only explanation,” she said.

“Okay fine, but it’s worth investigating. You must have a way to get in there as sheriff. We need to have a look around, see what the Evil Queen is hiding.”

“No, we don’t need to do any such thing. I don’t even know if that building is safe, or if it’s likely to come crashing down on your head.” She thought about how Henry had gotten himself trapped in the old mines and shuddered. “And even if that’s not an issue, there’s no better way to attract your mother’s attention to Operation Cobra than to break into buildings together.”

“But it could be important.” His expression was thunderous, which was kind of shocking on Henry’s sweet little face.

“And I promise that I’ll look into it, but I need to do it delicately and try not to incur Regina’s wrath any more than I have to. I’m the sheriff now, I have responsibilities—”

Henry stood up and stomped his foot, of all things. “You don’t even care about Operation Cobra, you just care about your stupid job now.”

“Henry, I do care, I promise—”

“You’ll never break the curse if you don’t do something to help me!” he shouted, swiping at angry tears that had suddenly fallen onto his cheeks. Without warning, he turned and ran away from her at full speed.

Emma registered several things at once, helpless, too far away to act: Henry running into the street, his tears blinding him. The large car barreling toward him. Other people turning at her shout (because she must have shouted) and gaping at the scene unfolding. A blur of black as someone ran toward Henry, so fast (too fast), shoving him out of the way. A sickening thump as Henry’s savior was hit by the car instead. The squeal of brakes as the car stopped.

She was running then, or maybe she’d been running the whole time. Henry was on the ground, half in the street and half on the sidewalk, and she dropped to her knees where he was trying to sit up.

“Oh my God, Henry, are you okay?” Her heart was pounding like a jackhammer. The thought he’d been so close to being hit by a car, and it would have been her fault—

“I think so.” He was looking at the palms of his hands, which were scraped and starting to bleed. “Somebody pushed me out of the way…”

Emma turned and half-stumbled, half-crawled over to the person in the street that the car had actually hit. “Somebody call 911!” she shouted to the gathering crowd.

“Already done,” a voice responded as she looked down and saw for the first time who it was that had saved Henry.

“Killian,” she gasped.

He winced as his eyes fluttered open. “Hey, beautiful.”

“Stay still; there’s an ambulance on the way.” She pulled Killian’s jacket aside, looking for injuries. “How did you get to Henry so fast?” In her memory, it had seemed almost inhuman. But she knew enough to understand that the shock made her memory unreliable.

“I don’t know; I saw Henry, and I just—”

“I couldn’t stop in time, Sheriff; they both came out of nowhere,” the nervous driver said, shifting from foot to foot.

She glanced up at him. “Yeah, it wasn’t your fault.” She pressed gently along Killian’s right side and he groaned in pain. “I think you’ve got some broken ribs.”

“Is Henry okay?” he gasped.

She looked up and saw Henry standing on the sidewalk now, rubbing his palms on his jeans. “Yeah. You saved him.”

Before either of them could say more, the scream of sirens interrupted as an ambulance pulled up.

Once Killian’s neck had been braced and he was on a stretcher, Emma went back over to Henry. “Let’s walk over the loft and get those hands cleaned up, and then I’ll drive you home, okay, kid?” She put an arm around Henry’s shoulders and felt him trembling.

“That was my fault. Killian wouldn’t be hurt right now if I hadn’t—”

She bent down so that she was eye level with him, her hands clasping his upper arms tightly. “Look, don’t get me wrong, I’m furious with you for running away from me and almost getting hit by a car. But the adults in your life are here to protect you, and that’s the way it’s supposed to work.” She felt a swell of emotion in her chest that Killian was one of those adults, that his instinct had been to save Henry in spite of the danger to his own body. “So you aren’t allowed to feel guilty for what happened to Killian. You’re only allowed to feel guilty for scaring all of us so badly. Okay?”

He took a shaky breath. “Okay.”

“And don’t ever, ever do anything like that again.” She pulled him into a tight hug. “I don’t know how I would live if something happened to you.”

Chapter 8

#csbb #cs ff #captain swan ff #this graceful path fic #my fic #cw: alcoholism

62 notes · View notes

dreaming-flutterby · 6 years

Text

Perk-O-Late

A Captain Swan Coffee Shop Modern AU

Rated M (because they just can’t help themselves!)

Emma Swan didn’t do cute. Not even a little bit. So the fact that she’d changed her routine over the past four weeks to grab her morning drink from the newly-opened and absurdly-named Perk-O-Late had nothing to do with the designs dusted on top of the frothy drinks. Nope. No way. Hot chocolate with cinnamon dusted across the surface in the shape of - yes, fine, a freakin’ swan - was not why she’d jumped - completely without reason - into a monogamous relationship with the new cafe. And obviously, her immediate devotion to this place had less than nothing to do with the barista who greeted her each morning. The (fucking hot) barista who handed the steaming cup to her each day had NO impact on her choice to exclusively patronize the newest local establishment. She was merely being a team player, ingratiating herself (finally) to a place that felt like...well, that felt like...home. And if the black-haired blue-eyed man who gave her a smirk nearly as (or maybe a bit more?) delicious than her morning cocoa had even a bit of an influence on her morning choices, well...no one really needed to know that, now did they?

CHAPTER 1

Killian Jones was beyond intrigued.

Eyes were supposed to be blue or brown or green or hazel. They weren’t supposed to burn a perpetual flame-green or settle into a nearly black haze when darkening with...something. (Desire, gods above, he bloody hoped it was desire that was shading her eyes when she peered directly into his soul while simply ordering a hot - oh, fuck yes, a hot beverage on his morning shift. And okay, fine, if he moved to having nothing more than a tall glass of ice cold water after he saw her each day, well, who cared? Hydration was very important to him. Oh, yes...hydration was very important to maintain certain...abilities… Oh, gods, he couldn’t begin to consider what his thoughts meant...)

Or, you know, maybe she just really liked her morning cocoa. The particular recipe they used at Perk-O-Late was spectacular, if he did say so himself. He was in no way expressing his healthy ego in that sentiment. While he and his dimples and blue eyes and (just a tad too) unbuttoned shirts were a major draw to bring in the interested young women - and old women, if he’s being truthful - it was the quality of the beverages and pastries that kept people returning the cafe. While his sister-in-law Elsa had been well-past worried that another cafe wouldn’t thrive in the tiny, already well-caffeinated town of Storybrooke, her family had been able to convince her that her venture would be successful since she’d be providing inarguably the best products for the tiny hamlet and its surrounding areas. And while it may be true that they’d been open to the public less than a month, the immediate surge of customers from the moment Elsa had flipped the sign to “Welcome!” seemed to be an accurate prediction for the days, weeks, and years ahead. In short, Perk-O-Late was already a booming business, bound to become a Storybrooke staple as it dug in its roots with warm muffins, strong coffee, and unique combinations of both the baked and brewed varieties.

It certainly helped that it was almost entirely a family affair. Elsa was not only the primary baker and drink magician, but she was also co-owner. Her partner in the business was her husband, one Liam Jones who’d managed to rope his little (“oi, how many times do I have to tell you -- it’s younger?”) brother into working behind the counter during the cooler months when the KJ Nautical Excursion tour boat company’s business dwindled. Killian found some relief in knowing that he wasn’t the only sibling who’d been recruited; Elsa’s sister, Anna, was the primary server/cashier/ray of sunshine. While Anna’s outgoing personality could be overwhelming at times, her fiance Kristoff, the delivery/maintenance man, was there to calm her down when she was overcome by the tsunami of personality. They’d also been lucky to get relatively cheap labor in two hardworking teenagers, Henry and Violet. (And it didn’t hurt that they were clearly crushing hard on one another, so they were always eager to grab extra hours at minimum wage...as long as the other would be there, of course.)

So at the end of each day, Killian genuinely recognized the ties that were binding him to his part-time work: devotion to family, belief in the product, and a desire to bring small bit of happiness to each and every consumer (and if he wanted to bring a large bit of happiness to one particular consumer, well, no one really needed to know that, now did they?)

*****************************************************

“Uh, Emma?”

The unusually reserved greeting of one Mary-Margaret Nolan threw Emma off her stride. She’d been walking into the office building with her typical swagger, her typical bravado, when the tiny woman with the delicate features and close-cropped mahogany hair stopped her with all the elegance of a freight train. Mary-Margaret was nothing if not, well, obnoxiously polite and sweet and accommodating. So the fact that she was suddenly a vocal connoisseur of Emma’s preferred morning beverage was more than a little off-putting.

Emma skidded (like, honestly, her boots squeaked against the pretentiously shiny flooring) to a stop, thrown off-kilter by the underwhelmingly calm intrusion of her friend.

(And no, ok? Her typical strut was NOT interrupted by her continual thoughts of a particular customer-service wizard, the absolutely gorgeous man who’d been handing her a cup of cocoa for nearly a month with a smile that bordered on dangerous and eyes that defied any rational definition of the word blue because, honestly, no one in real life actually looked like that, you know? So...so what if she was a bit distracted? Only because it was unnatural and weird and not at all because she had any interest in dropping her panties to hand to him as a daily tip...nope, nopity-nope.)

“Hey, Mary-Margaret. What’s up?” If she’d been going for casually cool, she’d failed in the most dramatic of ways.

Mary-Margaret grinned, yet had the grace not to call her out (yet...they both knew it was

only a matter of time). “Sorry, hon, I didn’t mean to distract you.” Liar. Yes she did. They both knew it. “I just wanted to make sure that you remembered we’re having dinner tomorrow night at our house. David has been going on and on about missing his deputy ever since she jumped ship to work for an investigative newspaper.”

Emma laughed, appreciating Mary-Margaret’s delicate (for her) foray into the topic. “Is that right? I suppose it has nothing to do with the fact that his little sister is taking a different path than the one traditionally followed by the Nolans, hm?”

Mary-Margaret giggled, biting her lip to hold back any of the more aggressive comments David (Emma’s brother...Mary-Margaret’s husband…did either distinction really matter..?) had made about the situation. “Oh, Emma...you know he’s proud of you no matter what, right? It’s just, well,” Mary-Margaret bit her lip before going on, “I think he always expected that things would work a bit differently with you.”

At those words, Emma deflated. “So he thought I’d fall in line just like all the rest of them? Is that right?” Emma tried to avoid it, but she couldn’t help the way that her armor immediately began to creep its way across her.

“Oh, Emma, no, it’s not that at all!” Mary-Margaret reassured. “David loves you. He considers you family -- no question. And he doesn’t want you to feel defensive; he wants you to feel safe.”

At those words, Emma allowed herself to feel. To genuinely feel. And if she pulled an extra bit of strength from the reassurance provided by Mary-Margaret and the deliciously calming feeling provided by the most incredible hot chocolate she’d ever tasted, that was fine. (And if the sinfully yummy man who’d handed her that hot chocolate made a difference, well, who was she to argue?)

#captain swan #ouat fanfiction #cs fandom #modern au

3 notes · View notes

yeehawbisexualold · 7 years

Text

You're a Marshmallow, Emma Swan

A CS Veronica Mars AU.

Rated T. 4.3k words. (1/?)

A/N The first chapter very closely follows the pilot in order to set up the characters and plot. Future chapters may not be as verbatim. Also, words in italics are used to represent voice-overs. Although David will be her father, I decided to keep Emma’s last name as Swan because Veronica Mars is such a distinctive name and so is Emma Swan and I don’t think Emma Nolan or the Nolan family would pack quite the same punch.

Welcome to Storybrooke high school. If you go here, your parents are either millionaires or work for millionaires. Storybrooke, California, a town without a middle class. If you’re in the second group, you get a job—fast food, movie theaters, mini-marts. Emma Swan’s after school job means tailing philandering spouses or investigating false injury claims.

She gets out of her car, a beat up, yellow bug, to see a crowd formed around the school’s flagpole. The source of the crowd’s interest, she finds, is a naked boy, duct taped, precariously to cover his private bits, to the pole with the word snitch (misspelled as “snich”) painted across his bare chest. She pushes through the hoard of spectators, gawking at the scrawny boy’s misfortune. “Who’d that guy rat out?” “Why doesn’t somebody cut him down?” “Yeah, I’ll do it. I wanna be the guy up there tomorrow.”

Reaching into her pocket, she tells the guy snapping a selfie on his phone to move.

“Who died and made you the queen?” the jack ass asks as she pulls out her pocket knife. He backs away silently when she snaps it open near his face.

“You’re new here, huh?” she asks the kid as she begins sawing away the duct tape near his wrists. He nods. “Welcome to Storybrooke High.” The bell for class rings and as the crowd begins to disperse, she sardonically cheers “Go Pirates!”

She cuts away enough to free him but leaves him with the pieces that protect his modesty.

In advanced placement English, she rests her head on her desk, falling asleep to the sound of her droning teacher’s voice.

“Did anybody complete the reading?” the woman inquires, removing her glasses. “Emma? Emma Swan, congratulations you’re my volunteer. Pope, An Essay On Man, lesson one.”

“Hope springs eternal in the human breast: Man never is, but always to be blest. The soul, uneasy and confined from home, rests and expatiates in a life to come,” she speaks from memory.

“And what do you suppose Pope meant by that?” the teacher quizzes.

She twiddles her fingers. “Life’s a bitch until you die.”

“Thank you, Miss Swan, for that succinct and somewhat inappropriate response.”

Random locker searches are the latest tactic the administration has adopted in its losing war on drugs. Except for Emma Swan, the searches aren’t random. She knows when they’re going to happen before Vice Principle “Grumpy” does. (His real name is Leroy but the students of Storybrooke aren’t much for respecting authority.

“Emma Swan. This should be good,” one of Sheriff Zelena Mills’ lackeys says with a smirk.

“Will you please open your locker?” Grumpy asks.

She twists in her combination and swings open the door to reveal a perfectly bare locker. Well, bare to the exception of a photo of Grumpy framed by a red heart and taped to the metal door

“Wow,” she huffs with a grin. “This is a little embarrassing.”

Emma sits alone at a round, red plastic lunch table, stabbing her disposable fork into the atrocity the school calls lunch. She stares blankly across the outdoor cafeteria at a group of rowdy students.

I used to sit there, at that table. It’s not like my family met the minimum net worth requirement. My dad didn’t own his own airline like Greg Mendell’s or serve as Ambassador to Belgium like Tamara’s. But my dad used to be the sheriff and that had a certain cache. Let’s be honest though. The only reason I was allowed past the velvet ropes was Neal Hood, son of software billionaire Robin Hood. He used to be my boyfriend. Then one day, with no warning, he ended things.

The most obnoxious of the students perches himself on Neal’s lap, rubbing his chest as he smirks at Emma.

And let’s not forget Killian Jones. His dad makes 20 million a picture. You probably own his action figure. He built his career on being the British bad boy and his son tries his damnedest to upstage his levels of naughtiness. Every school has an obligatory, psychotic jack ass. He’s ours.

Neal pushes him off and turns his attention back to Tamara who’s snuggled herself up against his side and Killian simply sits next to him clapping his hands together and pointing at Emma with a wild grin.

A figure sits down across from her, partially blocking her vision of Killian’s antics.

“You ok?” they ask, startling her out of her focused glare.

“What?“

It’s the kid she cut down earlier.

“You look, I don’t know, hypnotized.” He explains, opening his lunch.

“Did I say you could sit here?” she snaps at him. As soon as he stands, shoving his lunch back in the bag, she feels remorse. Killian pisses her off but that’s no reason to treat the new kid, who’s already had a rough enough first day, like shit. “Wait. Of course, you can sit here.”

He sits back down with a smile.

“That was cool what you did.”

Before she can respond, she’s interrupted by a voice behind her.

“My bitch. Weren’t you supposed to wait for me at the flagpole?” The bare sleeved, tattooed interrupter crouches down and gets in the kids face. “I’m not sure I could have made that any clearer.”

The kid looks like he’s going to shit his pants.

“Leave him alone,” Emma demands and the guy turns his attention to her.

“Love, the only time I care what a woman has to say is when she’s riding my big ole hog and even then it’s not so much words as just a bunch of oohs and aahs, ya know?” He asks planting himself in front of her.

“So it’s big, huh?”

“Legendary.”

“Well, let’s see it. I mean if it’s as big as you say, I’ll be your girlfriend.” She smiles brightly and gasps as if she’s just had a thought. “We could go to prom together!”

When he just laughs and leans back she continues “What seems to be the problem? I’m on a schedule here.”

“Dude, don’t let blondie talk to you like that!” his friend chimes in.

“Sounds like your buddy here wants to see it too.”

“Hell, I’ll show you mine!” the buddy shouts but is interrupted by Grumpy, arriving to break up the disturbance and ask Emma why trouble follows her around.

“So what did you do?” she asks the ‘snitch,’ who’s name she learns is Henry, after everyone clears away from the table. If she just confronted Will Scarlet, the leader of the local biker gang, she deserves to know what she was standing up for.

He explains how he works at the local gas station and while he was working alone last night, some of the guys walked in and stole alcohol from the store, stuffing bottles in their jackets and only paying for a pack of gum. He tripped the silent alarm but when the police came—"We don’t have police here. We have a sheriffs department.“—and he went outside, he realized an entire gang sat in the parking lot. Intimidated by all of the guys, he told the sheriff he pressed the alarm by accident. “You need to go see the wizard, ask him for some guts.” The sheriff told him before hauling the two bikers away.

“Go see the wizard? She said that?” Emma asks once he’s finished his story. “Congratulations, in your short time here, you’ve already managed to piss of the biker gang and the local sheriff.”

She heads to her fathers P.I. office, Swan Investigation, after school and is surprised to find Regina Hood’s car there. She hates Emma almost as much as she loves her son.

She sits down at the reception desk and busies herself with paperwork, waiting for Regina to walk out. Ingrid, the local, low-level lawyer walks in and offers “her father” a case to discover how the strip club her client works for keeps their liquor license and help her client make a deal.

After Ingrid leaves, Regina walks out of her father’s office.

“Don’t get the wrong idea, David. I don’t like you,” she says coolly, strutting past in her clean, pressed, white pantsuit, her chin tilted back in an air of arrogance. She turns her icy gaze to Emma. “I hate the fact that I’m here. But I know if anyone will be dogged and resourceful in this matter, it’ll be you. Don’t call me at home, I’ll call you.”

And then she’s gone, the air feeling decidedly less chilly without her presence.

Sure she’s a bitch. But can you blame her? After all, dad did try to send her husband to jail for life.

Her dad joins her to eat and she attempts to figure out why Regina was here. He ignores her attempts at questioning him, joking about the plastic resemblance of the cheese on their sandwiches. But after enough grilling, he reveals that Regina believes her husband Robin is having an affair—late nights and motels—and that he took the case because they need the money.

“Good, I would have been pissed if you hadn’t.”

“I wouldn’t have cared if you were.”

They continue eating together until the phone rings and her father announces he has to leave for a trip to El Paso, demanding she leaves the Hood case alone. She nods in response, knowing full well she’s lying.

She follows Robin Hood to his office. As she sits in her car, staring up into the windows of the building, she thinks about her best friend Milah, Robin’s daughter. Leaning back against the seat she recalls the pep squad car wash they worked in October of last year, both of them wearing the tight t-shirt and shorts combo, Emma with her hair in pigtails and Milah with hers long and loose.

“I’ve got a secret, Emma Swan,” she giggled, conspiratorially as she rubbed a soapy sponge along the hood of a car.

Those were the last words Emma ever heard from Milah. Later that night, she was found dead by her pool.

Emma’s father had been driving her home when he received a call about a disturbance at the Hood estate. When they arrived, David instructed her to stay in the car. But she saw Neal, sitting on a bench with his arms tucked around himself, rocking back and forth, his face ashen and his eyes wide, filled with an emotion to this day she can not name. All it took was one look at him and she was rushing in the house to see what happened.

“Where’s Milah?” she asked, her chest tight. All he could offer in response was a scrunched brow and a mouth, shaking into a frown.

Outside she found the area swarming with cops, a grieving couple, and by the pool, the lifeless body of her dead best friend—eyes wide and unseeing, blood dripping down her face from the gaping wound above where her temple met her scalp.

But everyone knows the story, the murder of Milah Hood. It was on the cover of People Magazine. It made entertainment tonight. The town was flooded with journalists. And of course, everyone remembers the bumbling, local sheriff. The one who went after the wrong man.

That bumbling sheriff was my dad.

Six weeks after Milah’s death, her crime scene video was leaked by someone in the sheriff department. In a matter of hours, millions of people around the world had seen the grizzly footage. Someone had to be held responsible and that someone was David Swan.

“So, Swan, does your dad still think that Milah’s father did this?” Killian confronted her in the school computer lab. “That’s my girlfriend. Your friend. Neal’s sister. Your dad is destroying the Hood family. What’s the matter with you people? What’s the matter with you?”

She knew he was lashing out because he was hurt but so was she. When he maliciously spit out the words, “I’m done with you.” She thought good because she couldn’t help but hate him a little bit for the way he was treating her.

Her father’s belief that Robin was the murderer no longer mattered. An emergency recall removed him from office and the investigation was no longer in his hands. Her mother wanted to move out of Storybrooke. The loss of status and loss of income was too much for her.

They had to move because they could no longer afford to stay in their house but Emma and David were not going to be run out of town.

A pair of Milah’s shoes were later discovered on the house boat of one Triton King and her father’s successor, Sheriff Zelena Mills’ face was plastered across the news for her amazing arrest.

Emma’s dad may not have been right about Robin but, sitting in the parking lot of a skeezy motel named the Camelot, she knows Regina is right about him now. She can’t imagine it’s a business meeting that’s being conducted at one in the morning, behind the door of one of the upper-level rooms.

Before she can get any substantial evidence, her car is swarmed in the parking lot by none other than Will’s gang.

“Car trouble miss?” he asks with a smirk.

“Might be a loose belt but if you wouldn’t mind checking under the hood,” she answers sweetly.

One of the guys walks up to her open window and her dog Wilby, affectionately nicknamed backup, jumps out. The guy lands flat on his back as the dog snarls at his throat. Another stomps up, yelling at her to call off her dog and she tazes him in the chest. Down he goes.

She calls Wilby off.

“I’ll tell you what. I’ll call it a draw,” she tells Will.

“Love, come on, it’s too late for that.”

“Here’s the deal,” Emma informs him, no bull shit face in place. “Leave that kid at school alone for a week and I’ll make sure your boys walk.”

“Why do you care for that kid so much, anyway? Things I heard about you… You must really lay the pipe right.”

“Yeah, that’s it,” she says cheerfully with a sarcastic nod of her head.

Mr. Electricity begins to lift himself up, using her door as leverage, and she charges her tazer in front of his face as a warning.

“Alright, one week. But if you don’t get them off, I’m coming for you, your boy, and your little dog too. And remember, if you get lonely out here, Will love you long time.” He kisses the air at her as he revs his engine.

Quite a reputation I’ve got, huh? You wanna know how I lost my virginity? So do I.

It happened at a party at Tamara’s, that much she knows. She’d curled her hair and put on one of her favorite dresses—white, knee length, and flowy. Her reason for going was simply to show everyone that the way they treated her didn’t affect her.

It was a mistake.

As she walked through the crowded room of people from whom the only attention she received was pointed whispers and giggles, people whom she once considered friends, she was handed a drink. She didn’t know who handed it to her but she chugged it down.

Before long she was stumbling around dizzily and then everything went blank. She woke the next morning, alone in bed, a soreness between her legs and her underwear on the floor. She walked through the house, crying silently, an entirely new type of pain tightening her chest.

She’d thought she’d felt all the pain a person could feel—being unceremoniously dumped by whom she thought was the love of her life, having her best friend murdered, all of her old friends turning against her, and her mother leaving her and her father. But there was at least one thing left the world had to throw at her, one more thing to show her that life truly was a bitch and things would never be the same.

In the present, Robin Hood steps out of the motel room door and Emma snaps as many pictures as she can before he shuts it behind him.

She doesn’t actually get a shot of the woman’s face but she gets some pretty good images of him talking through the door way and the license plates of each car in the lot. That should be enough to get her started.

The next day at school, she sits at her usual table. The kid she’d saved is already there.

“You should hear the things people say about you,” he begins.

“You didn’t have to sit at my table,” she grumbles. Who is this kid? She saves his ass and he chooses to sit at her table for what? To make fun of her?

“And what a fine table this is. What do you suppose it’s made of?” he ponders, tapping his closed fist against the shiny top. “Oak?”

“Look, if people are saying such awful things…” she trails off, shaking her head.

“Well, I figure I’ve got a choice. I could either go hang out with the jerks who laughed at me, took pictures of me while I was taped to that flagpole. Or I could hang out with the chick who cut me down.”

It feels good, his kindness, and a warmth blooms in her chest at the thought of a possible new friend.

“So you wanna get the bike club off your ass?”

“Can we come up with a code name?” he asks, eyes wide with hope.

“Sure, kid.”

She laughs at school for the first time she can remember since Milah’s death.

Her dad returns that night and as he prepares steak on the grill, Emma tells him she got pictures of Hood at the Camelot. He reprimands her for disobeying him but then asks to see the photos. He looks through the stack of images and pauses on one of the license plates of a car.

“I want you to stay away from Robin. You hear me?” he commands firmly, in the serious father voice he so rarely uses.

“But dad, why?”

“Listen to what I said, Emma. Stay away from him. I’m telling Regina I’m dropping the case.”

He storms into the apartment, leaving the grill unmanned.

When Grumpy conducts his next “spontaneous” locker search at school, he makes a stop at Killian Jones’. Killian opens the door, expecting to be in the clear, only to showcase a lovely bong in the shape of a naked man, one hand on his hip, the other grasping the bowl placed where it’s penis should be.

“What’s this, Killian? This appears to be a device used to smoke marijuana.”

Killian looks around the hallways, flooding with people now that the class bell has run and as he’s lead away, his confused eyes land on Emma standing beside Henry.

“I know it was you!” he shouts, angrily, jamming his finger in her face. “This isn’t over, ok?”

She fake yawns at him, patting her hand over her mouth. Henry grins at her side.

“You’re so cute and innocent. I’ll get you for this,” he threatens as he’s pulled away by Grumpy and the deputy.

Jefferson, the residential stoner, passes by and offers her a high five. She’d recruited him in art class the day before to make the bong for her.

Phase two of operation freedom was done.

After school, she drove home to the sheriff’s department. Phase three. With a remote control detonator, he sets off a spark in the bowl of the phallic bong residing in the evidence lock up. The smoke from that sets off the fire alarm and the woman behind the counter calls the fire department.

Then, after the flaming crisis is handled, she heads to the fire department.

“Did you make the switch?” she asks the fire chief who then hands her a large envelope with a video tape inside.

A lot of people in this town still love dad. That comes in handy.

The residual love of her father only gets her so far though and sometimes she is left to her own devices.

Using a phony accent she makes a phone call pretending to be the secretary of the sheriff’s department, claiming to be having trouble with the computer’s system. She asks the man on the phone to run a set of plates involved in a hit and run for her. Except there was no hit and run and the plate number she if reading off is from the car parked at the Camelot the night she watched Robin.

“I’ll be damned, that’s some family,” the man on the other line says, chuckling.

“What is it?”

“That car is registered to one Kathryn Swan.”

She hangs up the phone in shock just as her father opens his office door.

“Explain to me again why we’re dropping the Hood case.”

She’s going to give him one more chance to explain himself, to tell her the truth, to tell her why her mother’s car was parked outside the Camelot the night Robin Hood visited it. But he doesn’t take it. Instead, he sips his coffee and gives her some bullshit excuse about corporate espionage, telling her it’s dangerous and they don’t get paid enough.

He asks if she wants to rent a movie and she walks out, leaving him alone in the office.

She heads to the court house and asks the receptionist which direction the bikers case is.

“Emma! I haven’t seen you since…” the woman trail off uncomfortably.

The last time I was here? Come on. That’s easy.

The last time she was there was the morning after Tamara’s party. She’d limped up to the counter, eyes smudged with mascara, and said she needed to report a crime.

After she sat in front of Zelena and reported what happened, Zelena chuckled in her face and asked “Is there anyone in particular you’d like me to arrest? Or should I just round up the sons of the most important families in town.”

Emma sat silently, shocked and dismayed. She knew Zelena was mean but this was downright wicked.

“I’ve got not a shred of evidence to work with here. But that doesn’t matter to your family now does it?” The woman continued on ignoring the tears streaking down Emma’s face. Ignoring her disheveled appearance, her wild hair, her red eyes, her torn dress. Ignoring the pulsing pain Emma could feel through out her entire body, not a pain physical in its origin but manifesting itself as such and causing her anguish never the less. “Look at this, she cries. I’ll tell you what Emma Swan. Why don’t you go see the wizard, ask for a little backbone.“

Emma left Zelena’s office with no answers to what had happened to her and no hope of ever finding out.

Now she sits in a courtroom, watching a smug Miss Mills deliver her testimony of her account of the night she arrested the two bikers at Henry’s place of work.

“Your honor, can we show the tape?” the opposing lawyer requests.

When the tape is loaded, no robbery is to be seen. Instead, an officer walks a prostitute to his car and is seen opening the door for her, getting in on his own side, and then guiding her head down to his lap.

Phase one of operation freedom had been staking out the strip club and recording the footage of their interesting ways of keeping a valid liquor license.

“Sheriff Mills is this how you run your department?” the judge questions.

Emma finger guns at Zelena and walks out of the court room.

She meets Henry at the beach and presents him with the actual footage of the robbing. He thanks her and tells her that “Underneath that angry young woman shell there’s a slightly less angry young woman just dying to bake me something. You’re a marshmallow, Emma Swan.”

She grins and turns her head away, amused but unwilling to admit it.

They spend some time flying around his remote controlled airplane. Just as she’s getting the hang of it and actually having some fun, Henry interrupts her.

“Emma, look at your car.”

She turns to see Killian lounging across the hood, crowbar in hand, surrounded by his 09er buddies (the richest of the rich, those residing in the the prestigious 90909 zipcode.)

“Do you know what your little joke cost me?” he asks, hopping off the car and swinging the crowbar.

“Well, I’m pretty sure you won’t be getting your bong back.”

He smashes a headlight. “Wrong answer.” He twirls the metal in his hand. “Would you care to guess again?”

She crosses her arms across the chest of her red leather jacket, keeping her face impassive, unwilling to let him phase her no matter what.

“Clearly, your sense of humor.”

And he smashes another head light.

“Nope, the correct answer is my car. That’s right my daddy took the Jolly away. And you know what I won’t be having?” He questions, resting the bar behind his neck and stepping closer to her. He leans in her face and answers his own question with a smirk and raised brows. “Fun, fun, fun.”

She wants to smack his British accent right out of his mouth.

“Uh, Killian,” his friend warns as a heard of bikes pull up along side them.

It doesn’t take long for Will and his friends to flip the situation in her favor.

“What do we have here? Vandalism?” Will asks. “No, the only vandalism that happens in this town goes through me.”

Killian tells Will he doesn’t have a problem with him and Will tells him he’s wrong. With Will smashing in the hood of Killian’s friend’s car (with the crowbar he’d pulled out of Kilian’s hands) and his biker buddies tearing apart the inside, they’re easily convinced to “head for the hills.”

Emma sits in her car outside of her father’s office building, watching him move around through the window.

This morning, when I woke up, I had one person in the world I could count on. But if there’s one thing you learn in this business, the people you love let you down.

David leaves, driving away in his car and she heads into the building. Her dad thinks she doesn’t have the code to the safe but he’s wrong and until now she hasn’t had to use it. She types the code in and opens it to find a large file, stuffed with folders and papers. As she pulls the contents out she realizes it’s the Milah Hood murder file, some of the evidence less than a month old, including the photo of her mother’s car she took the Camelot.

If the confessed killer is already in jail, why hasn’t dad given up on the case?

#captain swan #cs ff #cs au #my fic #i'm really excited about this so i hope y'all like it #cs fanfiction

23 notes · View notes

smartgirlsaremean · 7 years

Text

Stiltskin Family Bonding - Chapter 5 - Barbecue

Fandom: OUAT

Relationships: Papafire, Henry & Neal, Rumplestiltskin & Henry (also Rumbelle, Snowing, and Swanfire)

Rating: N/R

Summary: The Stiltskin boys bond in a variety of ways. Sometimes it goes well, other times...not so much.

AO3

Chapter 5 - Barbecue

A hundred million years ago, @zapiarty prompted: I know we saw Rumple's nightmare about Henry's birthday party in show, but what about in this? Oorrr Halloween! I can see the Charming Clan host barbecues?

So this answers the first and last of those ideas!

“This is a terrible idea,” Rumplestiltskin muttered as the Cadillac pulled up outside the white farmhouse the Charmings called home.

“No, it’s just what everyone needs,” Belle said beside him. “We’re all family, and Henry deserves to have everyone at least try to get along.”

“If they say anything to upset you, anything at all, we’re leaving.” He glanced uneasily behind them at their son, who was entertaining himself by waving his hands in front of his face.

“What could they possibly say?” she asked, amusement creeping into her voice.

Rumplestiltskin turned red and averted his gaze, and Belle reached out to squeeze his hand on the steering wheel.

“Rumple, I’ll be fine, and so will you. It’s not like you have to be here with people you hate. You like David and Emma, and I know Snow isn’t your favorite person, but I can keep her occupied, okay?”

“I don’t know that I like the shepherd,” Rumple protested, switching off the engine. “He simply doesn’t irritate me as much as most other people do.”

Smirking, Belle leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll make you a deal.”

His eyes lit up at that and his mouth quirked, a hint of the imp shining in his expression. “Oh? What deal could you possibly offer me, sweetheart?”

“Be pleasant to everyone for the duration of the party, and I’ll make this worth your while when we get home.”

He swallowed. “Worth my while? But…”

“I’ve already asked Granny if she wouldn’t mind watching Gideon tonight. I thought you might need some persuasion, and I’ve been doing a little research.”

“....Ah. What...what sort of research?”

“I guess you’ll have to be pleasant to find out,” she said with a saucy smile. “Come on, the sooner we get in there, the sooner we can go home.”

Belle got out of the car and carefully removed Gideon from his car seat, Rumplestiltskin lifting out the bag they carried everywhere, but they both froze at the sound of an extremely unwelcome voice.

“Well, if it isn’t the old crocodile.”

Every muscle in his body tensed, and Rumplestiltskin felt magic begin to burn at his fingertips.

“Oh, damn,” Belle muttered.

“What in the seven hells are you doing here?” Rumplestiltskin growled. One of his arms wound around Belle and pulled her and their son in close to his side.

“I was invited, mate. You?”

“Well, I am Henry’s grandfather,” the sorcerer said wryly, “and this is, after all, a family affair.”

“Killian!” Neal suddenly appeared on the porch. “Hey, can you come in and help David with the canopy? He doesn’t know how to tie knots as well as you do.”

Jones smirked and tilted his head at Belle, who frowned at him. “‘Course. Be right there.”

“Sorry, guys,” Neal said as soon as Jones had ambled around to the back of the house. “He saw Snow and David buying supplies at the store and kind of - wormed an invitation out of them. You know them, they can’t say no to a ‘reformed villain’.”

“I don’t suppose his pretty face helps him at all,” Rumple said sourly.

Neal pressed one hand to his heart, his eyes huge with disbelief. “The royals? Taken in by charm and blue eyes? Say it ain’t so.”

“Neal, will you please get back out here?” Emma poked her head around the corner of the house. “Oh! Hi, guys. Come on back. Henry can’t wait to see you.”

Rumplestiltskin stared at her and Belle poked him. “See? Told you. You’ll be fine.”

“Just don’t let him near the grill,” Neal teased.

Emma scoffed. “Please, I wouldn’t put him in charge of the birthday candles.”

Rumplestiltskin tried his best to keep his smirk under control as he bent to take the brightly wrapped box out of the back seat. Belle winked at him as she adjusted Gideon in her arms, and they followed Neal and Emma into the backyard, where David and Hook were completing construction of a large white tent and Snow was placing Graham in an outdoor playpen. Neal headed for the large gas grill set up by the picnic tables and Emma called for Henry who was tossing sticks for Pongo and chatting with Grace, to come greet his guests.

“You guys came!” Henry was taller than Belle now, his dark hair beginning to wave in much the same way Bae’s had at that age, and his voice was beginning to crack now and then.

“Happy birthday, Henry,” Belle said warmly, pulling him into a one-armed hug. Henry hugged her back and thanked her, and then bent close to his baby uncle.

“Hi, Uncle Gideon. You’re getting big.”

Gideon smiled and waved his arms.

Henry shook one of the baby’s hands solemnly and then looked up at his grandfather. “Hi, Grandpa.”

“Many happy returns, m’boy,” Rumplestiltskin said gruffly. He wished he had the courage to hug the lad himself. It wasn’t as if Henry hadn’t hugged him before, but Rumplestiltskin had never initiated contact, and he wasn’t about to start now. Instead, he held out their gift and Henry took it.

“Cool. Thanks. I’m gonna put it with the others, okay?” He walked off and Rumplestiltskin felt Belle gently bump his arm with her shoulder.

“You’re doing great so far,” she murmured.

“I haven’t had to talk to anyone insufferable yet,” he muttered back.

“Belle! Mr. Gold! We’re so glad you could make it!” As if on cue, Snow White fluttered up to them, her smile wide and her eyes bright. “Hello, Gideon,” she cooed. “We have a playpen set up if you’d like to visit with Graham.”

“Maybe in a little while,” Belle said. Graham was now fourteen months old - Rumplestiltskin was never quite sure why babies’ ages were counted in months even after the one-year mark - and a very inquisitive little fellow who adored the younger baby. Rumplestiltskin considered this a mark of the toddler’s excellent taste. Even now, Graham was standing in his pack-n-play and grinning over at them, his chubby fist waving.

“May I hold Gideon, Mrs. Gold?” Jefferson’s daughter appeared seemingly out of nowhere, and Belle smiled at her.

“Why don’t we find somewhere to sit and we’ll see if he’s in the mood to socialize,” she said gently. With a questioning smile at her husband, which he answered with a nod, she followed Grace to the tables under the canopy and settled into a chair, where she was promptly surrounded by Grace, Gretel, and three more of the girls from Henry’s class. Rumplestiltskin watched her just long enough to be sure she was comfortable before walking slowly toward his older son, who was turning hot dogs and hamburgers on the grill.

“How’s business?” Neal asked.

“Not bad, now that my customers have stopped fearing death every time they come in.”

“I guess that’s not at all due to the fact that half the time you’re carrying Gid around in a baby sling.”

Rumplestiltskin shrugged. “I could still turn them all into snails, and they all know it.”

Neal snorted. “Face it, Pops. You’re a tamed Dark One and you love it.”

Studying his wife from afar, the sorcerer allowed himself a small smile. “Perhaps.” His good mood was short lived, as a moment later Hook walked up and clapped a hand on Neal’s shoulder.

“A shame you’re shackled in the kitchen, so to speak,” Hook said, a meaningful gleam in his eye. “Leaves your lovely lady somewhat unprotected.”

Neal rolled his eyes. “Unprotected from what?”

“From my devilish good looks and charm, obviously.” Patting Neal’s shoulder a few times as if in commiseration, he smiled. “I’ll woo her away eventually.”

“You’ve been saying stuff like that off and on for over a year,” Neal said patiently, moving the hot dogs to a plate. “You’ve invited her for drinks and dinner and dancing and sailing. Face it, Hook. She’s with me now, and she doesn’t want you.”

“She hasn’t given me a proper chance.”

“She doesn’t have to. Look,” Neal placed the burgers on another plate and studied Hook with compassion, “I get it. Emma’s beautiful and smart and tough and she didn’t fall all over you when you smiled at her. It sucks to have someone you want turn you down. But seriously, man. Let it go.”

Somehow Rumplestiltskin hadn’t known that the pirate still carried a torch for Emma Swan; whether his feelings were genuine or he was simply being stubborn he supposed was anyone’s guess. Neal’s simple assertion that he and Emma were together, however, took him completely by surprise.

“Is that true, Bae?” he asked as Hook sauntered away.

“Is what true?”

“You and Ms. Swan?”

“Oh.” Neal turned red and looked away. “Yeah. We weren’t hiding it or anything. Snow and David and Regina know, and I was going to tell you later. It’s...we’re together again.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thanks. Henry’s pretty thrilled.” Neal picked up the plates of food and walked toward the tables. “Come and get it!” he shouted, and there was a small stampede as the party guests hurried over.

Rumplestiltskin took Gideon from Belle’s arms and carried him to the pack-n-play. Young Graham grinned up at him.

“Hi!” he chirped. “Baby!”

“Yes, Gideon’s here,” Rumplestiltskin said, placing his son carefully on the mat. “Be gentle, little princeling.” Taking a seat in one of the nearby chairs, he watched as Graham sat next to Gideon and patted the younger boy on the chest.

“Baby,” he said softly. “Baby.” Gideon gurgled and kicked his feet.

“They’re gonna be best friends when they get older.”

Rumplestiltskin looked up to see that David had joined him, holding out a plate of food. The sorcerer took it with a nod of thanks, and David sat in the other chair. For a few blessed moments, Rumplestiltskin thought the shepherd would sit in silence, but he should have known better.

“Can you believe we made it this far?” he asked.

“How do you mean?”

“Look at us.” David waved his fork between them and then gestured at the tables full of people with it. “We were commoners. I was staring down a life of poverty with no chance of true love. You were about to lose your son to war. Now here we are - shepherds and wizards and princesses and pirates and queens - at peace. Breaking bread with people who were once our enemies.” He grinned down at their sons; Graham was trying to introduce Gideon to peek-a-boo. “Our kids are gonna grow up together, forge new bonds, make new alliances. There aren’t any heroes or villains anymore. We’re just...us.”

Something like warmth blossomed in Rumplestiltskin’s chest. Acceptance had never been so explicitly offered, even after his marriage to Belle. David said nothing more, allowing a comfortable silence to fall over them as the party guests ate and drank and laughed. At last, the candles were blown out, the cake was cut, and it was time for Henry to open his gifts. Everyone stood around, Belle with Gideon in her arms again, as he worked through the pile.

There were various trinkets and books and cards from his schoolmates. From Regina he received a thick leather journal and a fountain pen.

“Wow,” Henry breathed, turning the pen over in his hands. “This is awesome.”

“I thought it might be time for you to write some stories of your own,” Regina said, her eyes grave.

Henry hugged her tightly, allowing her to clutch him to her just a little longer.

From the Charmings he received a new saddle for his horse, from Neal and Emma a beautifully woven dreamcatcher and a new game for his Xbox. Hook appeared to have forgotten a gift. When Henry lifted the lid of the box from Rumplestiltskin and Belle, his eyes widened.

“Whoa…” Carefully he removed the hand-woven tapestry from the tissue paper and ran his fingers over it.

The background design was a large, heavy-limbed tree. Henry’s name was embroidered in gold in the center, and branching out away from it were slender golden strands that formed a web. The strands connected to other names, also embroidered in gold, so that his lineage was laid out for him to see, beginning with his great-grandparents on both sides and including everyone up to the current generation.

“This is amazing,” Henry breathed. “Is it…?”

“Magic? Yes.” Rumplestiltskin leaned forward and traced the line that ran from Henry’s name to Baelfire’s. “Each birth, marriage, and death will be recorded. The tapestry itself will grow to accommodate new generations when necessary.”

“Look, Mom, you’re on here too,” Henry said to Regina, pointing out where her name was connected to both Snow’s and his own.

“I am?” Regina raised startled eyes to Rumplestiltskin’s.

“Of course you are,” Emma said firmly. “You took him in when he needed a home. You raised him for ten years. You’re his mother, Regina. Why wouldn’t you be there?”

Regina looked a little lost, but she smiled shakily.

“Uh...hey, Grandpa?” Henry sounded confused.

“Yes?”

“There’s...there’s another line here by Mom and Dad, but there’s no name. What does that mean?”

“What?” Rumplestiltskin leaned over him and scrutinized the tapestry, then chuckled. “Well, well. It seems congratulations are in order.”

“Huh?”

The sorcerer straightened and grinned at his son. “It would appear I’m to have another grandchild.”

#answering prompts #rumbelle fic #papafire #rumplestiltskin #henry mills #neal cassidy #ouat fic #alternate universe

25 notes · View notes

marajade4s · 7 years

Text

True Love Will Always Find A Way (10/?)

Read on: FF.Net / AO3

Read from the beginning: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

True Love Will Always Find A Way

Ladyhawke AU

Princess!Emma & Pirate!Killian Jones

Emma is one of the most beautiful princesses in the Enchanted Forest, and Killian Jones is one of the most cutthroat pirates to sail the seven seas. When Emma refuses to give Baelfire any hopes he might win her heart, a set of events is set in motion, one that will forever entwine the fates of the princess and of the pirate.

Part 10

Emma stares wide eyed at the wolf in front of her, too shocked to move a muscle. The animal barks once, as if in greeting, then moves closer to her, pushing at her hand with its muzzle. Habit takes over and Emma caresses the wolf’s head absentmindedly. He seems to notice though, because he whines a complaint at her, nudging her. It’s only when she feels the wolf wrap himself around her legs, does Emma come out of her trance.

“By the Gods, I saw you Killian”, she tells the wolf as she crouches low. He can’t answer her with words, but, like every so often, he puts his head on her shoulder. Emma’s arms wrap around him and she buries her head deep in his fur, breathing him in. It’s something she’s grown to appreciate in the last few months, the scent of him always calming her nerves. She closes her eyes and strokes his back, waiting for her heart to calm down. He’s usually not so amenable - the wolf’s not accustomed to being hugged for so long, after all - but this time he doesn’t protest. It’s as if he feels she needs embrace.

Emma is unsure how many minutes pass before her heart feels calm again and she lets go of him. The wolf is watching her closely when she lets go, and this time, the intense blue stare makes shivers run down her spine. She now knows for a fact they’re his eyes she sees every time she watches the wolf and that thought makes her heart leap in her chest again.

He’s beautiful, more beautiful she ever would have thought. But it’s his eyes that have her mesmerized. They were opened wide in shock, and despite the lack of time, she did catch a glimpse of more in his gaze: there was also kindness, care, and so much pain. He was a man accustomed to loss and that was present in his gaze, fleeting as the encounter was.

She realizes then that something like this should not have happened. The curse should not have allowed them to see each other, not matter how short the meeting. So why did it happen? How? These are questions she does not have an answer to, questions she doesn’t even know where to start answering. But maybe Killian will know! With this thought formed, Emma rushes to the desk to write a message for him. She sees his note and while she’s curious to see what he’s sharing with her, her excitement is too great to put a lid on. Only after she pens her own message to Killian, does she pick up his note again.

“My dearest princess,

You certainly are a brave one, aren’t you? I confess I didn’t believe you would accept this arrangement, but I suppose I should not find it so unbelievable since few things have gone to plan since I’ve met you.

If at any time you feel uncomfortable about this, you need only say the word and things will go back to the way they were until now. It is a bit odd, is it not, to take such a step without having seen each other yet?

Today is the autumn equinox, one of the two moments a year when the day and night have equal length. It means nothing to our current predicament, but it is something I believe you will enjoy knowing.

Do you know you’ve been with us for almost 3 months now? Would you consider having dinner with me in celebration of our anniversary?

Yours, Killian

P.S. Please say yes!

Just like that, Emma is stunned into speechlessness again. If she’s surprising him, he certainly manages to keep up with her on that front. An equinox! And an anniversary dinner! How does he think they could manage it? But after today, maybe there’s a way. She never would have thought she’d see him while still cursed, but maybe it was the equinox that helped them beat those particular odds. So why not dinner, she thinks.

~~~~~~~~~~

Killian wakes up to a familiar lull. It takes him a few seconds to recognize it as his own bed, in his own quarters, and even longer to realize why that might be odd. As he opens his eyes, his gaze falls upon a hawk - his princess, his True Love. She shrieks and opens her wings wide, the gesture one Killian is familiar with by now. It’s the sort of greeting she bestows on him and he can’t help the smile forming on his lips. She’s magnificent.

That’s when the memory hits him. He’s seen her last night! For barely a moment, but he caught a glimpse of her and it was enough for the image of her to imprint itself on his retinas and senses. The Princess Emma from Henry's drawing had been beautiful, but the woman in front of him had been nothing short of magnificent. Chuckling to himself, Killian thinks the adjective is an apt description for her in either form, human or beast.

And her eyes, that’s what he mostly remembers. Green as the lushest forest or the colour of the seas after a storm, it was the look in them that spoke to him. He’d started to care for her in the weeks since she’d come aboard, but one look in her eyes and he’s hooked for good. If he’d been lured in by her personality, bravery, determination, and stubbornness, he’s definitely aware now he’s fallen in love with her.

Remembering all of a sudden the question he’d asked the day before, he turns towards his desk, eager to discover what her response is. His heart starts beating wildly in his chest; it’s ridiculous, he knows, but he can’t help wanting for this to happen. So what if they can’t meet face to face yet (for more that a glimpse, apparently), he can still woo her. And on that thought, how did they see each other?

The question remains unanswered, though. Emma’s answer is yes and it blots out any other train of thought. She wants to have dinner with him, to celebrate their anniversary, and he wants to make it memorable for her. He won’t be able to be there with her, but he will plan this dinner to the best of his abilities. Thoughts on how they met are pushed aside for now; he has a meal to prepare for.

It takes him the rest of the day to get everything done. He’s careful to choose the dishes he knows or suspects she likes; he even helps the cook prepare some of them in his quest for perfection. He asks Henry to create some paper flowers for his princess, and then he hovers over the boy’s shoulder to make sure they’re the right hue and shape.

An hour before sunset, he goes to the bow of the ship to make the last preparations for the picnic. He’s so caught up with the finishing touches, he barely realizes it when the sun sinks below the horizon. Sighing, he moves the pot of flowers a little bit more to the left, then goes downstairs. The time is up; he just hopes Princess Emma will like it.

~~~~~~~~~~

The moment she comes to, Emma notices there’s something different about the room, although the wolf is in his usual place, head resting calmly over his forward paws. It takes her a few minutes to pinpoint exactly what it is. He’s a neat freak on the best of days, but he’s obviously made an extra effort today. The change is subtle, but it’s there: the room is spotless clean, more so than usual, a single white envelope sitting in the middle of the immaculate desk. She recognizes immediately Killian’s flourished handwriting and she can’t help but smile. If these subtle changes are any indication, then Killian has put an extra effort into making this dinner a pleasant affair for her.

The thought warms her heart. They cannot be face to face on this occasion, but she’s sure he’s prepared something special for her. The realization makes her feel giddy like a little girl, again. How many times in the last few weeks has he made her feel this way? She’d lost her heart to him long before she’d seen him in the flesh yesterday. Emma’s grin broadens. She’s found her True Love and fallen in love with him. The thought alone makes her feel hopeful beyond belief; the night she’d discovered about the curse she had felt as if the world had come crashing down on her, but now she’s ready to take on the entire universe.

So, because he’s apparently made an extra effort, Emma dons her best dress and takes extra care to arrange her hair in an elaborate braid, one that circles her head as a crown. Finished, she twirls a bit around the room and looks at herself in the small mirror hung up on one of the beams by the door. She may have worn more elaborate gowns and may have had more intricate hairstyles, but she can’t remember a time when she’s felt more desirable. She hasn’t even seen what he’s prepared for dinner yet, but somehow she knows he won’t disappoint on that front either.

Pleased with her looks, Emma steps closer to the desk and picks up the letter.

“My dearest Emma,

After I lost Liam, I never thought I would have someone else to care for in my life again. But then I found you. I don’t care how we’ve come to find each other, only that we did. And to be perfectly honest, I’m grateful for the circumstance that has brought you to my life, be it as it is.

I would love nothing more than to join you at the moment you’re reading this, but alas, we’ll have to wait a bit more. I do hope, once the curse is broken, that you will agree to accompany me on another dinner. Until then, a small feast awaits you, my lady, at the bow of the ship. Henry will tend to your needs tonight, but the others will leave you be, should you so wish it.

Killian”

Eager, and with a huge smile plastered on her face, Emma extends her hand towards the quiet wolf still in the corner. He hadn’t moved an inch since her transformation, silently watching her find her bearings and get ready. “Come on, now, let us go above stairs”, she beckons. He’s up on all fours and by her side in a couple of seconds. Emma opens the door of their quarters a bit forcefully, very much determined to make it up on deck as soon as possible, and stumbles her way through the narrow passage.

True to Killian’s word, Emma finds a skeleton crew of the night shift on deck. Jamison is there, manning the helm, and so is Henry. The lad smiles brightly as he notices her and scrambles across the deck to join her. He makes an exaggerated bow, more like the type of bow he thinks she expects, than the real thing, but it doesn’t bother her. It’s a sweet gesture, and it warms her heart to know that they’re all trying to make this night memorable for her.

“Good evening, Sir Henry”, she greets the boy as she hooks her hand through his arm. Henry blushes profusely and stammers a response in kind, which makes her grin wider. “What is Killian up to,” she asks the question still smiling. The boy seems to catch up on her light mood, because he’s smiling too. “If you will allow me to escort you, you will find out soon, Your Highness.”

It’s a bit too saucy a reply for Henry, so Emma raises one of her eyebrows in turn. It’s such a Killian Jones thing to say, it’s endearing really to see it on his young charge; but she cannot let Henry get away with it so easily, hence the raised brow.

Henry gets a bit flustered, but recovers himself quickly and motions Emma towards the bow. She stops mid-step a few feet before she reaches it, stunned. While she knew he would prepare something grand, the end result is so romantic and sweet, she never would have imagined something quite like this from Killian Jones. Not in the middle of the high seas, at any rate.

There’s a woollen blanket draped across the floor, a few covered pots in a corner and a bottle of wine beside it. But what draws her attention next is a bottle turned into a vase - there are paper flowers in it, a dozen by the looks of it. Confused, she looks at Henry. The lad blushes again and scratches at something behind his right ear.

She picks one up and looks at the craftsmanship - it’s beautiful, almost real. Were it not for its texture, she would have thought it a true rose. After all, from afar, it had looked like a small bouquet of roses.

“The Captain asked me to make these for you, Your Highness”, Henry supplies in explanation. “He wanted you to have some flowers, but since we’re in the middle of the sea, this was the only solution he came up with.”

Not wanting Henry to see how touched she is by this seemingly inconsequential gesture, Emma cradles the flower to her chest, head lowered. Her pirate is definitely a romantic, much as he would probably deny it even under threat of torture.

“The Captain has also prepared something special for you. He and the cook have spent most of the afternoon working on this”, adds the lad with a satisfied smile on his lips.

Bowing, with one hand extended towards her, Henry continues: “If you would, milady.” Emma places her hand in the lad’s and he helps her sit on the blanket. He bows again before retreating a bit to the side. “Enjoy the meal, Your Highness. If you need anything, I’ll be here.”

Alone, Emma stares again at all the things laid out on the blanket beside her: the pots of food, the bottle of wine on the side, the roses carefully crafted by Henry. And, at the side, another scroll - a message from Killian, no doubt. She takes a moment to calm her racing heart - no one, ever, had gone to so much effort for her. The feast isn’t luxurious by any stretch of the word, but the care that went into preparing everything, makes it all invaluable. She may have received countless presents more expensive than this, but this dinner will forever be one of her most cherished memories.

She stretches her hand to grab the foolscap and it’s only then she realizes that her hands are trembling. She takes a few deep breathes and tries again. The message is indeed from Killian, and this one is much longer that the letters he usually leaves for her. It’s soon clear why: most of this letter contains details about the constellations she’s going to see in front of her as the hours will pass. His letter is full of tales of woe and love stories and it once again surprises her just how much the lonesome pirate knows. And she can’t help but wonder how good at storytelling he actually is.

She’s going to spend the evening as he’s wished it: eating the meals they’ve prepared for her, drinking some wine and enjoying the clear sky with all those constellations making an appearance tonight. There’s only one thing that puts a pall on the evening: his parting words - “Wishing I were there with you”. It’s a statement that has a claim more and more profound on her heart, one that makes her soul hurt more and more each day.

~~~~~~~~~~

Two months later, Killian feels frustration and hopelessness engulf him. He’s not made any progress in weeks, and while he’s narrowed down the location of the next possible eclipse, he’s nowhere near knowing where exactly it will be. And the fact that time is running out for them weighs heavily on his mind. On Emma’s too, he knows, but she’s too gracious to say anything about it. He can feel it though, and it’s enough to choke him on the best of days. But today, he’s downright depressed.

There’s less than half an hour to dusk so he doesn’t bother going back on deck. He’ll just wait there for the transformation to occur. Maybe this is what his life is destined to be like for the rest of his days: half man, half wolf, in love with a woman he can never touch in human form, but condemned to long for her forever.

“Bloody hell”, he yells in frustration, throwing the book he’d been reading at the door. Sighing, Killian passes a tired hand through his hair and picks up his pen.

“Emma,”

He stares at her name for several minutes. Where should he start in telling her it’s hopeless. That the eclipse could happen a day’s length away, but he has no idea in which direction? That he feels they’re so close, yet so far away from a solution?

I haven’t made any breakthrough today, either. I do not know where to go from here. Forgive me.

He feels tears welling in his eyes and he swats angrily at his eyes. He leaves the letter unsigned; he should say more, but the feels there’s nothing more to add.

~~~~~~~~~

Emma becomes aware of her surroundings shortly after the sun has set. She’s a tad confused at first, as usual, but her bewilderment disappears as soon as she sees the wolf. He’s sitting down in front of their shared desk, head on his front paws. It’s his usual position, but something feels off. He barely lifts his head in acknowledgement and she knows something’s happened. While different beings, Emma knows by now that the wolf usually acts in tune with his human counterpart.

Besides, she’d known Killian was getting despondent. The few lines she finds from him heighten her worries. Because they are a sign of more than that. He seems to have lost his hope and Emma knows that is dangerous. She knows how debilitating not believing can be, so she wants to do for him what he did for her when he kidnapped her: give him some hope.

She crouches low besides him and threads her head through the wolf’s mane, in a soothing gesture. He barely reacts.

The question is how to cheer him up. What could she possibly say to him that wouldn’t sound pathetic? What could she help him with? While she’d learnt everything he’d told her, and read every book on navigation and astronomy in his possession, she’s aware her input is mildly helpful at best. And right now, nothing short of concrete steps forward will help him. So what could she do?

She peruses his notes again, then the letters where he’d taught her something about the movement of stars. She’s barely aware when Henry brings her some food, but she’s happy for the interruption. She’s starving. She tries to feed the wolf as well, but he’s still not paying attention to her and that just makes her more determined to find a way to get his hopes up. They’re close, she knows it.

It’s some time later, after she’s gone through his notes for a second time, that she notices his maps. She may not know much about navigation, but she can read maps. Picking up the first of the bunch strewn across a corner of the desk, obviously the one Killian is currently focused on, Emma peers at it to study the several lines drawn across the upper half. They mean nothing though; they’re just curved lines from one side of the map to the other.

Emma sighs wistfully. She really wishes she were able to know what he was doing there… Were those the boundaries for the solar eclipse? She does remember Killian telling her solar eclipses are to be found within certain areas. Emma can’t ask him right away to clarify, but she does intend to do so in her next letter.

Then something draws her attention to the upper right corner of the map and Emma gasps. It’s Arendelle, her friend Elsa’s kingdom! It’s been so long since she’s been there, since she’s talked to Elsa and Anna. Those first few months after Elsa had lost her parents, Emma had been with her friend in Arendelle, helping her cope with taking leadership of her realm. Those moments spent together had only reinforced their friendship.

She misses Elsa and her clear head and Emma feels a stab of guilt. Elsa is her best friend, yet, since the curse, she’s never told her what she was going through. She’d written to her, of course, albeit sporadically, but she’d never confided in her friend. And she’d refused any invitation to visit Arendelle. Yet now, as she thinks about everything, Emma feels an idea taking shape.

Killian’s been upset because he couldn’t get any more useful information from his books. But Elsa has books. Plenty of books, to be honest! Emma has no idea where the Jolly Roger is at the moment, but maybe they can go to Arendelle next. Elsa would help them. She may be distrustful of a pirate ship in her port, but Emma knows Elsa trusts her, and she trusts Elsa to help them. The queen of Arendelle will keep them safe. Determined, and feeling much better, Emma starts writing her message to Killian.

My dear Captain,

Remember it is always darkest before dawn! Have hope!

I went through all our notes, but I cannot give you any insight at the moment. I did notice the map, though. Those lines, what are they? Do we have to be within their perimeter in order to see the eclipse?

I don’t know where we are currently, but I’d like to make a suggestion. Elsa, the Queen of Arendelle, is my dearest friend. She will aid us, if we were to ask for her help. And she would allow us to make use of her vast library if we so desired.

I would like to ask for her help, Killian. I know you don’t trust royals, but I am asking you to trust me, again. Elsa will not betray us. And if you do agree to go to Arendelle, we must arrive at night. I must talk to her first.

Yours, Emma

P.S. I miss the sun so much. Sometimes, I don’t even believe I recall what its warmth feels like. Shall we go on picnics when the curse is broken?

~~~~~~~~~~

The next night, things feel a bit different. The wolf seems to be a bit more animated than before and that gives Emma confidence that Killian’s found some hope in her letter. And when she reads his message, she knows she had the right idea.

Emma,

It will be as you wish, my lady. We are close to the Arendelle border, and I’ve set the Jolly on a course towards the capital. If the weather holds, we should be there in two days time.

Yours, Killian

P.S. It would be my pleasure, Your Highness. Shall we go on picnics at night, too? I would love to show you the stars myself. It’s been so long since I’ve seen them last...

~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I hope you’ve enjoyed this chapter, the longest so far. The “date” scene sprang out of nowhere and it proved to be the most difficult to plan and write. I wanted to do it justice, while also making sure it was fit for the story. And then, by the time I finally sorted things out and my professional life seemed to calm down a bit, things in my country went to hell and I’ve been out doing my civic duty in every spare moment. If you’ve followed the news, maybe you’ve heard something about the protests in Romania against corruption. Anyway, I needed to think about something else tonight, so I decided to finish the chapter and post it. It’s barely been edited, so I really hope I haven’t made many mistakes and that it was worth the wait :)

#cs ff #cs au #captain swan #cs ff au #true love will always find a way #marajade4sff #cs fic #cs au fic #pirate duckling

23 notes · View notes