#cs fics
Text
the scars we bare
it's a mid-january miracle, i actually wrote something. after threatening to finally start writing captain swan fics, i actually did it. thank you to all my beautiful friends on discord who encouraged me and to @dykelilypage i'm so glad you liked your gift <333
this is chapter 1 of 2, second one should be up tomorrow probably maybe who knows? :)))
summary: emma swan came to the underworld with one purpose; to rescue the man she loved from hades' grip. and she would do anything, sacrifice everything in order to that happen. when hades offers her a deal, a test of their true love, she takes it. in the end though, the bargain might just take more for them than they have to give. S5B canon divergence
tw: minor moments of gore and torture, also pregnancy and child birth
✨ ao3 link ✨
***
Emma had made plenty of bad decisions in her life. Big, catastrophic decisions, she could admit that. If she were to rank them though, willingly letting herself fall under a sleeping curse to rescue the man she loved from hell, probably would have ended up pretty high on the list.
She stared at him, across the wide airy field of middlemist flowers that wasn’t actually there, but felt nearly as real as she remembered, and wondered if he would feel the same.
“Swan.” Her name sounded like a prayer, rasped from his too-dry throat.
She was running then, or maybe she had started running before, she wasn’t sure. Her arms circled him when they met, his own grip nearly crushing as he lifted her off her feet. Frantic kisses and searching hands probed each other as incomplete pleas stuttered out of each of them.
“You alright?”
“-m fine. You can’t be here-”
“-made a deal. Hades, he had a deal.”
“-have to go back. Please, you have to go back.”
“I can’t.”
The last two words dropped like a stone between them and Killian jerked back. His face was the same as it had been when she’d last seen him alive. It was no longer the swollen mess of throbbing bruises Hades had left it in, when he’d shown Emma her lover’s broken body that was being torn and burnt and flayed apart until she had screamed to make it stop. Killian’s hand, the fingers still intact and no longer snapped and broken, cupped her face. He was trembling. Or maybe that was her. It was hard to tell at this point.
“Emma,” her name came out as a whisper. “Emma, where are we?”
She smiled as something huge and terrifying in her chest threatened to burst open.
“Somewhere... Somewhere in my mind. I think? Maybe,” she glanced around again, trying to focus. “A memory. He kept saying something about memories. Our memories.”
“Love, you aren’t making any sense.”
She laughed and it sounded like a watery hiccup. “Hades. Hades and I made a deal.”
The hand on her face tensed as she watched his expression grow brittle. “Emma-” his throat bobbed. “Emma. What kind of deal? What did you promise him?”
She held up her right hand, her index finger raised. A small droplet of blood welled up in the sensitive pad of flesh at the tip where she had pricked it only moments earlier.
“Sleeping curse,” she tried to keep her voice calm as she risked another glance at him. His face was ghost white, completely drained of colour. “I think he thought he was being funny. Something about “the old Charming family tradition.””
Killian’s head was shaking, his eyes darting away from her as he scanned the edges of the tree line behind them, looking for a way out. “We have to wake you up. Emma you don’t understand, Hades he-”
She watched his gaze go unfocused, the nerve in his jaw popping.
“Hey,” she said quickly, her hand curling around his neck, pulling him back to her. “He can’t get you, not here. Not unless he feels like breaking our deal.”
His eyes were still nervy, and she could feel his pulse jumping beneath her palm, but he focused on her again. God she had missed him. Missed the way he smelled, the way his scruffed jaw felt when she held it. It suddenly seemed so hysterically unfair that they’d only had a few months together. They deserved a lifetime.
“This deal,” he rasped after a moment. “Tell me exactly what he asked of you.”
“He wanted…” she trailed off, trying to remember what he had said. “He said he wanted to test us. To see if what we shared was true love or not. That we needed to really see every part of each other before we made our decision.”
Killian was holding very, very still, his expression unreadable. “And for us to do this test, you needed to be cursed, is that right? Am I cursed as well? Is that how I’m standing here with you?” His voice sounded calm, almost reasonable, as if they were discussing the rules to a complicated board game. But Emma could still feel his panic, could see it starting to edge into the corners of his eyes, turning them glassy. Another one of her huge, catastrophically bad decisions alright.
“No. No you aren’t under a sleeping curse,” she tried to make her voice comforting, but doubted it had much effect. “He said that souls without a living body don’t need curses to be moved to the dream realm, as long as they’re tethered to someone alive they just sort of- “hitch a ride,” or something.”
A smile started to spread across his face, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “So I’m tethered to you then?”
“Seems that way,” she said, her heart feeling like a dead weight in her chest. “I’m not exactly sure about the next parts, he was talking about memory magic, about old wounds needing to be opened up. He said the dream realm made the magic more…” she waved her hand. “Potent or something. Made it easier to find old memories.”
Killian’s hand dropped to her shoulder, his hook resting against her hip. “Why does he want us to explore old memories? Which memories? What does he gain from that?”
“I have no idea, I’m pretty sure he was just talking to hear himself speak at some point.”
“I don’t like this. Hades wouldn’t make a deal unless it was to punish or to trap you here. Emma, please,” his tone was growing frantic and it was making her own nerves start to fray. “Try and remember exactly what he said. Every word. If he’s trapped you here-”
“I don’t remember all the specifics! I was a little distracted watching you get tortured. Hades didn’t exactly have my undivided attention.”
Killian’s eyes shuttered and Emma could feel the slight tremor in his hand as it fell from her shoulder. She wished she hadn’t mentioned the torture. The second she had, she’d seen his face go blank. When this was over, she would kill Hades. She wasn’t sure how exactly, but she would get creative. Somehow she would figure out a way to make the god of death hurt in the same way he had made Killian hurt.
“Look,” she said, her voice thick. “All you need to know is that he can’t hurt us. I made him swear it. He can’t touch you here, and he can’t kill me. Everything that happens now is up to us.”
He looked up, staring at something far away from them, like he was remembering something he’d rather forget. “And if we fail? What then? Does he get both of us to torture for eternity?”
“We won’t fail,” she told him. They wouldn’t. She couldn’t let that happen. Even if it killed her, she would never let Hades touch Killian Jones again. “I got down here didn’t I? And I found you. The hard part’s already done.”
He huffed out a laugh that sounded wrong to her ears. “Your confidence is admirable, Swan. But you don’t know what Hades is capable of. What he does to you once he has you.”
She could feel him slipping from her, could feel the despair coming off him in waves, and it killed her. “There’s a fail safe,” she told him quickly. “I can call off the deal at any time.”
He jerked his attention back to her, suddenly alert.
“But Killian, if I call it off, if I choose to end this, you go right back where I found you. Back to Hades,” she said, a world of meaning in her words.
“But you’ll be safe?”
She looked at him. She should tell him. Tell him the entire truth. Tell him exactly what she had promised to keep him safe, to bring him back home. What she had signed away. But if she told him, if he knew everything, he would never agree to it. He would refuse and send her back and all this would be for nothing. He would go back to the endless, screaming pain that Hades had cleaved into him until there was nothing of him left. She couldn’t let that happen.
“Yes,” she said. “I’ll be fine. But you won’t. Please Killian. Please just let us try this first. We have to.”
He blew a breath out of his nose, looking down when she grabbed his hand in both of hers and squeezed. “Alright,” he said. “Alright, we'll try.”
She grinned as she wrapped her arms around him, kissing him, holding him. His hand moved up to her hair, cradling her head, his forehead coming to rest against hers.
“So. How exactly does this trial work? What do we have to do?”
There was a quick burst of magic to the left of them, and a door twisted into existence a few feet away. The carved wood groaned slightly as it seemed to sway towards them, rocking on its frame, before coming to a stop. They both stared at it.
“Well. Guess that answers that,” she said.
“Indeed,” he sighed, turning back to look at her. She saw a question, huge and all consuming in his stare that went unasked. Right, this was her deal. Her curse. He would follow her lead. Like he always did. Whatever happened, no matter how much it took from her, she would do whatever it took to make sure he got out of this.
“C’mon,” she nodded towards the door. “Let’s get this over with.”
He grimaced as they walked towards it, reaching down to grip the brass handle and opening it for her. “Any idea what’s awaiting us on the other side?”
She squeezed his hand, raising her brows. “Nope.”
They walked through. And the ground beneath their feet vanished.
***
She was falling. Her hair was whipping around her head while the wind rushed up and made her eyes water. Images and noise strobed past like flickering television screens as she plummeted down towards a huge, white nothingness. If she focused she thought she could make out faces, blurred and half formed, but they streaked past her, faster than her eyes could follow. She tried to reach out, tried to find something to grab a hold of, something to slow her fall, but it was like falling through light and sound and a great vast emptiness eager to swallow her whole.
Was this it? Was this what Hades had planned all along? No harm to her physical body sure, but trapping them in some fucked liminal space for eternity? Well. That was a different story.
She tried to look up, or whatever passed for up in this space and suddenly felt something grab her arm. Killian, his grip tight on her, was falling beside her. His mouth was open, mouthing something she couldn’t hear over the roar of noise and wind and her own frantic heartbeat. She tried to reach for him, her fingers outstretched-
When everything slammed to a sudden stop.
Her mind lurched, feeling like the contents of a car with its brakes hit too hard. The tunnel of noise, whatever it had been, was gone, and a blindingly blue sky stretched out in front of her. She tried to blink and turn her head, but her body was locked in place, no longer listening to her.
Only…only it wasn’t her body.
She heard someone call for her, but it wasn’t her name she heard, it was Killian’s. She twisted and when her mouth opened it wasn’t her voice that boomed forth, but a man’s, low and accented, and oh-so familiar to her.
She’d dealt with memory magic before, had stayed up long, magic-drunk nights as the dark one weaving dream catchers together in order to snare memories. She’d been expecting something closer to that, where memories played like snippets of old tv reruns. This was something completely different. She wasn’t just watching Killian's memories, she was living them. In his head.
“What news do you bring me then?” he called.
He sounded happy, and Emma could feel it then, he was excited about something. Somehow, inside his head, she could feel thoughts, could almost reach out and touch them.
He stood on the top deck, near the massive helm. Below him, near the rigging of the sails, a woman with dark hair and seafoam eyes grinned at him. Even before Emma felt the sudden rush of love and recognition, she knew exactly who she was looking at. Milah.
“No news that can safely be shared among mixed company, captain ,” Milah called with a wink. She had Henry’s smile, Emma realized distantly.
The crew around Milah laughed uproariously, and her wide grin was a twin to the one stretching across Killian’s as he swung round the deck to go meet her.
Just as Emma was greedily drinking in the image of the image of the woman who had her son’s grin and Killian's heart, the world suddenly melted and shifted around her. It was as if the memory smeared, all the unimportant bits forgotten and discarded. She moved through short, foggy glimpses of old points in time. Moments alone with Milah, the sound of her laugh, the feeling of her eyes watching him, her laugh lines fanning out from the corners. At the core of it, his love for her was like a warm, even glow in his chest. Emma was suddenly sad that she would never get to meet this woman. This woman with the sharp wit and an easy laugh. She thought she would have liked her.
She kept floating through memories until they solidified all at once into sharp focus. Killian was back on the deck. Only he couldn’t move, something tight twisted around his chest and pinned him down. In front of him, Milah was on her knees. A man stood before her. His hand was buried into her chest.
Emma recognized Rumpelstiltskin as blind, frantic panic tore through Killian, choking her. Killian had never told her explicitly how Milah had died, only that Gold had killed her. But she knew this moment. She knew what happened next.
Rumpelstiltskin's hand tore free, Milah’s beating heart in his grip. He stared at it almost hungrily. Emma heard Killian shout, felt him pull himself free from the ropes binding him and dive for Milah as she slumped back. He caught her, begging, pleading words stumbling from his lips. She felt so light in his arms, a hollow empty shell. They shared a look, Milah’s gaze full of an unspoken farewell.
She heard, rather than saw the crunch of the heart as Rumpelstiltskin crushed it. Milah gasped, dead even before the ashes crumbled and fell to the deck.
Rage built in Killian, blinding and useless. It pushed him to his feet, surged him forward. He cursed Rumpelstiltskin, his hands in fists, desperate to drive them into the scaled skin and rotting teeth of the man who took his love. Rumpelstiltskin's grin was sharp. A blade flashed. Men shouted. A horrible, exquisite pain erupted from Killian’s left wrist and drove him to his knees. Emma wanted to scream.
Everything started moving too fast. The memory grew blurry again, every part of it dulled by the all consuming pain and rage boiling in Killian. He was screaming, driving a hook into Rumpelstiltskin's chest, mocking laughter meeting his ears. Then hands were grabbing him, pulling him back. Pain. Oh god there was just so much pain. Emma felt herself being dragged down with it, Killian’s vision growing black. But even in the darkness she felt the agony, unable to escape it. All alone in his head, she ached.
The memories came and went. Bright flashes of faces crowding into his vision, frantic voices and bloody rags. Blood. There was so much blood. She could smell it, the sharp, copper tang of it. It felt like it coated his tongue, filled his nostrils and tried to drown him. He was being moved, every bump and bounce he felt sending jolts of pain through his system and forcing him back into blank unconsciousness.
Then heat. It was so sudden and sharp it brought him back to bleeding, screaming life. The world around him was thrown into abrupt focus as molten heat was pressed against the agonizing, throbbing stump of his wrist. He looked at the white hot blade being forced against his skin, watched as it melted his flesh and made it bubble around the edges, cauterizing it. He was screaming. It filled his head, an endless bellow of animalistic pain that crashed into Emma like a blow.
When the darkness came for him again, Emma welcomed it with a sob.
She didn’t know how much time had passed when he started to wake again. She didn’t care. Every part of his body was one, long, endless agony. She couldn’t breathe from the force of it. Above him, it grew dark, then light, then dark again. Time moving on with or without him.
A noise woke him at some point. She blinked the grit from his burning eyes, trying to look at where Killian's hand had been severed. His wrist was an angry, mottled thing, the skin around it too pink, too tight. Thick blisters, fat and stretched taunt, seemed too shiny in the pale light below the deck of the ship where they had left him.
Her head lolled, their shared vision turning syrupy around the edges as the pain rose up again and smothered her in burning heat.
She could hear voices, pitched low, all whispering with a panicked edge.
“Fever.”
“ Infection…”
“The amount of blood he lost-”
“No one could survive that.”
Emma writhed inside the shell of the memory. Killian , she sobbed, unsure if he could hear her. Was he in here with her? Was he reliving this too and she just couldn’t feel him? Or had Hades taken him away from her again? It was so quiet now. Killian. Killian. She repeated it again and again, his fever touching her own mind, choking the air from her lungs. How could he bear this? How could anyone bear this?
Fresh pain shot from his wrist and Emma threw her head back and screamed. Tears rolled down her cheeks when it was Killian’s voice, Killian’s pain she heard echoing endlessly in her head as she was pitched sidewise into another memory.
He was vomiting, heat and misery burning him, leaving him feeling feverish and delirious. He was fading in and out of consciousness, through the days, maybe weeks, he could no longer tell. Food and water had to be forcibly shoved into his mouth until he swallowed it, all the while he cursed at them for daring to try and keep him alive in his grief.
Emma watched it all, helpless inside his head. Killian had been right. Hades had found a way to torture them after all. Because this? Watching Killian break apart, unable to help, was agony. She wanted to fight, wanted to scream at the unfairness of it. But she could do neither. She could only sit and witness it all.
More memories faded in and out. In his rare moments of lucidity, the image of Milah, her heart torn from her chest, burned across his brain. His heart felt empty, like a hollow burden, sinking his body down deeper. His love for her burned itself away, twisted and malformed from grief. In its place, only one thought remained. Revenge.
The word repeated itself, over and over, until it became a mantra. As his body healed, as the scar tissue on both his wrist and his heart thickened, he swore it to himself, again and again. He would have his revenge. No matter the cost.
Trapped inside his tortured mind, Emma mourned for him.
***
Killian woke in agony. Pain snaked around his spine and sank into his bones, leaving him too weary to move. For one, terrifying moment, he thought he was back in the underworld. That all this had been a ruse. Emma had never come for him, Hades had simply split open his head and planted the idea of her, giving him hope and then taking it. Yet again.
But this place didn’t feel like his hell. There were voices around him, low murmuring, distinctly human voices.
He tried to open his eyes, but they stayed stubbornly shut. Another wave of pain twisted inside him, washing over him as his back arched and a low, sobbing moan filled his head. Emma. That was Emma’s voice.
“You’re doing great Emma, just a little longer now,” a strange voice near his feet comforted.
He felt her then, Emma. She was scared and exhausted and so, so heartbreakingly sad that it nearly swallowed her.
He wasn’t here, he realized as her emotions buffeted him and surrounded him from all sides. This was Emma’s body. Her memory.
Her eyes opened and Killian looked across the room through tear blurred eyes. She was on her back, doctors and nurses standing around her, their faces hidden with masks and hair coverings. Blinding, overhead lights seemed to beat down on her, making her even more uncomfortable. She tried to move and Killian felt something tug on her wrist.
She let out a small sob of annoyance and pain, looking down at the silver cuff that chained her to the bed. They’d restrained her. She was in pain, she needed help, and they’d restrained her.
Fury raced through him, though he couldn’t tell if it was his or hers he felt, or a combination of the two. She felt so small in the bed, and so completely alone.
Another rush of pain, this one stronger than the first two, sent stars across their shared vision and Emma fell back.
“Okay Emma, you’re ready. It’s time to push, alright?”
She was shaking her head, and Killian felt her panic and his own bleed together. She was giving birth. He was about to witness her giving birth inside her own mind. For some reason the complete invasion of it flooded his brain, made him want to climb out of her head and simply hold her. This was her memory. Hers. He had no right to witness this and Hades certainly had no right to take that choice from her.
But he was here. There was no taking back what had been started. So he sat in the mind of the woman he loved and felt her body tear itself apart.
She was screaming, her body bearing down, the act of giving birth overwhelming her rational brain and simply taking over, trying to push. Sweat poured down her face as she strained, her pain now just a constant steady stream of misery. She wanted it to end. She needed it to end. She just wanted to lay back and sleep and never wake up. She’d fought so hard her whole life and now she had no fight left. She was done.
“You've got this Emma,” a nurse soothed from her left side, her gloved hand rubbing circles on her back. Emma liked her, Killian could feel it. This was a kind person, the only person who treated her like a patient and not a prisoner. A good person, a decent person. Someone who would make an amazing parent. Unlike her.
“Emma, I need you to work with us,” the doctor positioned between her legs called. “You need to keep pushing, your baby is ready to come out.”
Her baby. Killian felt a spark of something light inside her. Emma was too scared to give the feeling a name, but Killian recognized it instantly. Love.
Oh how she loved this little baby. She adored it. She sang it songs in her head and read to it in the bed of her prison cell when everyone else was asleep. She would give anything to her baby if it asked.
So she pushed. She pushed even as she felt like she was tearing in half, when the pain grew knife-sharp and carved her open. Voices blurred around her, all speaking over each other, telling her to take deep breaths, that she was almost there, that it was almost over. She gripped the sides of the bed, shoving forward and pushed until she thought her bones would crack and she would break apart until there was nothing of her left.
“Big push now Emma! Big push!”
She screamed and it was like the ozone in the room ignited, the lights in the room glowing white hot and shattering. Killian felt a punch of raw, primal magic explode from within her and then-
A baby’s cry, small but strong, broke through the silence. Henry. He was here. Killian wanted to look at him, wanted to see the boy's face, the feeling nearly overwhelming him. But Emma didn’t turn to look. She squeezed her eyes shut, and sank into the mattress.
“It’s a boy Emma,” the doctor said, a smile in his voice.
A boy. She had a son. A beautiful, perfect son. He cried out, and Killian felt it drive into Emma's heart like a knife. Every part of her wanted to turn, wanted to take him in her arms and hold him, to soothe his cries and protect him from every bad scary thing in this world like it was her only job in this life.
But…she couldn’t. She loved him more than anything. She would give him anything to make him happy, to keep him safe. And because of that she knew that meant he had to go away. As far away from her as possible. He deserved so much, he deserved the whole world. And she couldn’t afford to give it to him. All she had to give him was a chance. A chance at a better start. Without her. She couldn’t be a mother, couldn’t be his mother. She would ruin him. Taint him somehow. She wouldn’t do that to him.
Killian felt the decision form in her mind, felt her shake her head and grit her teeth, squeezing her eyes shut as tears spilled down her face. He heard the doctor tell her that she could change her mind, that it wasn’t too late. But he knew. He knew what happened next. He wanted to beg her to change her mind, to see that she already was a mother, he wanted to be there and tell her over and over until she believed it. But he couldn’t change the past. He could only watch it.
“No. I can't be a mother,” her voice was so small, it broke him.
He felt her heart tear itself in two. When the doctors carried her baby away from her, when Henry’s small, searching cries faded down the hall into silence, Killian felt as a piece of Emma’s heart went with him. Heartbreak didn’t come close to describing this feeling. It was as if a huge, yawning emptiness split open in her chest where her heart had once sat and consumed her.
***
Killian woke with a start, jerking up and dragging air desperately into his lungs. Beside him, Emma shot up, panting, eyes darting until she saw him. Her face was pale, her hair damp from sweat and sticking to her face. She opened her mouth, her eyes rapidly moving over his face, before flinching away from him and vomiting into the tall grass. He shot forward.
“Emma, breathe. It’s alright, it’s over. What did you-?”
“Probably a good idea to give her a minute,” a taunting voice called from behind them. “She had a hell of a ride in there.”
Killian’s head spun, white hot rage spilling into his blood. Behind them, Hades sat back in a plastic lawn chair, one ankle crossed over his knee, grinning.
“You bloody bastard,” Killian was on his feet, his hand clenched. The overwhelming urge to stomp the heel of his boot into Hades’ cold, dead smile, nearly blinded him.
“Ah, ah, ah!” Hades warned, a single finger raising in the air. “We wouldn’t want to do anything rash now, would we Emma?” He leaned over, calling to her. From her kneeling position, she shoved her middle finger over her shoulder without turning and spat in the grass.
“Hades if you’ve hurt her-”
“Me? Oh no, I didn’t do anything,” he said with mock innocence. “All I did was show her your memory.”
Killian felt his blood run cold. What memory could he have shown her for her to react like that? He knelt back down when Emma moaned, wiping the back of her hand against her mouth.
“Ignore him,” she rasped. “I’m alright. It was-it was just intense.”
“Emma love, call off the deal. I won’t have you in pain like this, I can’t-”
“No!” her eyes burned as she reached up to grip him. “Killian, no, I can handle it. Please. I promise.”
Killian blew a sharp breath from his nose, trying to keep his composure. “Emma,” he tried to make his voice gentle but it still carried an edge. “Love, what memory did he show you?”
Her eyes went distant for a moment, and Killian felt his stomach tighten. He had lived centuries, had done countless brutal things. Any of them were enough to have her react like this. The question was, which one had Hades chosen?
“It was Milah,” she said after a pause. “The moment Rumpelstiltskin killed her, and took your hand.”
Killian went still, staring at her. Hades had shown her that moment? Milah’s face, frozen in fear, floated in front of his eyes, there and gone in seconds. A phantom twinge of pain jolted from his wrist reflexively.
“How much-” he swallowed. “How much did he show you?”
“Oh, I showed her everything, don't worry!” Hades's cheery voice called. “No gory detail left out. Gave her the full surround sound experience, didn’t I Emma?”
Beside him, Emma's face turned pale, her tongue darting out to wet her dry lips. Killian remembered the pain he had felt trapped inside her memory of Henry’s birth, the agony she had gone through, and felt dread turn his skin cold. She had experienced him losing his hand. Even in his most lucid recollections of that day, Killian had never managed to remember that pain in anything other than hazy, blurred-over recollections. He had pushed it so far from his mind to protect himself from reliving that brutal torment.
And Hades had just made her experience it in full, merciless detail.
“You bastard Hades, there was no bloody need to show her-”
“Show her what? The moment you decided to dedicate your life to avenging your one true love?” Hades asked, his eyes growing wide with mock innocence. He turned to Emma and grinned. “No offense of course. No shame in being the runner up.”
Killian surged to his feet, blood pumping, hook raised. He would bloody end him. Here and now.
“Don’t let him get to you.” Emma said, pushing herself up on shaky legs, to grip his arm. “He's not worth it.”
Killian spared her a glance. “He doesn't have the bloody right. He doesn’t have the right to reach into our heads and pull out our pain just to torture us with it.”
“Oh I’m pretty sure I do though. After all,” Hades steepled his hands together, his gaze locking on Emma. “We made a deal.”
“The deal was to test our true love, not whatever twisted game you’re playing at Hades,” Killian snapped.
“And that’s exactly what I’m doing,” Hades said, his tone taking on an edge of false sincerity. “True love isn’t just some cheap card trick, it’s the most powerful magic that exists. To have it you need to love so fully and completely that it’s like second nature. And you can’t have love like that when you don’t really know a person, now can you?”
The god of death gestured with both hands, like a demented talk show host. “Seriously this is a once in a lifetime opportunity here! I really wouldn’t pass this up if I were you. You,” he pointed to Killian. “Get to finally see inside the head of the saviour, finally learn what makes her tick. And you,” his hand swung to Emma. “Get to learn what kind of man Killian Jones really is.”
His words felt ominous. A promise and a curse all at once.
“Ignore him,” Emma said. “I already tried to tell him earlier that this whole test was pointless.” She turned to look at him, her mouth turning up at the corners as a fire lit behind her eyes. “I already know exactly what type of man you are.”
“Mmmm, do ya though?” Hades asked with a hiss of breath, tilting his head to the side. “See, I'm not so sure about that. I mean you two have known each other, what, a few months at most? He’s got a whole three centuries worth of history before meeting you. Entire lifetimes lived before you were even born.”
His gaze sharpened, the edge of his smile growing pointed. “Are you really sure he’s even worth it?”
“Yes.”
Killian sucked in a sharp breath at her sudden certainty. She turned and looked at him, her eyes holding promise. “Yes, I know he’s worth it.”
“Touching,” Hades said dryly. “Really. And for your sake, I hope you’re right. We’ve got a hell of show left to get through.”
Killian could feel the magic starting again, could feel the rush of it start to build, and shook his head. He still didn’t trust this, any of this. He knew how Hades made deals, and he knew there was no way he would give either of them up so easily.
“Emma said you agreed on a fail safe, a way out for her if she needs it. How do we know you’ll honor that?” He asked, stopping the god from conjuring another door.
Hades turned to give them a bored look, as if the question was barely worth his time. “Emma isn’t dead, not yet anyway. I don’t have any way of keeping her bound in the underworld with me. She has the ability to leave whenever she wants.”
“Yeah sure…one small problem though,” Emma glanced between the two of them. “I can’t exactly get up and walk out while I’m stuck in a sleeping curse, can I?”
Hades’s smile turned wolffish, his eyes lighting as if she’d finally said something interesting. “Well now, how funny you bring that up. I was wondering when you would.”
When they both only stared at him, the god’s face fell.
“Hello? Sleeping curse?” he said, gesturing to Emma with a flicking hand. “True love’s kiss? Big flashy light show? Thought this was all sort of obvious? Gods you two really are slow. Here.” he jumped to his feet, hands tucking into the pockets of his pants, and stalked towards them.
“Let me break this down for you. You have two options, one; you see my test through to the end and test the strength of your love, or two;” he held up two fingers on his left hand. “If at any point you want the trial to end, all you have to do is kiss her. She goes back home, no hard feelings, thanks for playing, and you,” he turned to Killian, his grin predatory. “Stay here with me. And we go back to our fun little games.”
They were still for a moment, Emma hand in his squeezing tight. They could. They could just end this now. He could end this now, and save her. He turned to her, caught her tortured gaze. Her head gave one, barely noticeable shake, no.
“Unless, of course,” Hades continued, taking a step towards them. “You’re worried it won’t work?”
Killian blinked. An old, nearly buried dread rising in him like ocean water in a sinking ship. That old fear that Hades was right. That it wasn’t true love at all.
Oh he loved her of course. He had never loved anyone the way he loved Emma Swan. Even the way he had loved Milah had been different. Not any worse or any less but…different. Loving Emma Swan was like loving the sun. It came as natural to him as breathing.
But in his weakest, most torturous moments of doubt he wondered. He wondered if she ever felt the same. She loved him, of course, in her own quiet way. And he had taken that love and cherished it, held it closely to his heart and lived off it, satisfied with all she gave him.
But. True love? In the depths of her heart was it really true love? The uncertainty of it killed him. And he knew that Hades was perfectly aware of that fact. He had practically split Killian’s head open, torn out chunks of him. Every fear, every doubt, every agonizing thought that Killian had ever felt, Hades knew. And now he planned to torture both of them with it.
“We’ll keep going with the trial.” Emma said, breaking Killian’s thoughts apart and scattering them. “But we need real memories this time, not whatever sadistic thing you find in our pasts that you feel like torturing us with.”
“Ugh. Fine then, since you two want to be boring, we’ll do this your way! Let’s start at the beginning.” He flicked a hand through the air and another door appeared before them. “No more skipping to all the fun bits first. Off you go!”
They stared at it for a moment. It seemed to pulse with magic, threatening and inviting all at once. In his hand, her fingers were cold, the knuckles white where they gripped him tightly. He shifted, lifting his hook and brushing a lock of hair from her shoulder. Her eyes found his and locked on, a question in her eyes. He waited.
“What memory did he show you?” Emma asked finally, glancing up at him. “I’m guessing it was one of mine. Which one?”
Killian debated not telling her. Did she really need to know how Hades had stolen that moment from her? But her face was resolute, her gaze steady. There was no point withholding this from her.
“You were in the hospital,” he said, watching her face. “Giving birth to Henry.”
“Oh.” she said, so quietly he barely caught it. Pain flashed across her face, fast and sharp, before her walls went up again and her expression grew blank.
They both turned to look at the door as it swung open, the hinges squeaking slightly. He gripped her hand tighter, felt her hesitation before she squeezed back. Side by side, they walked through together.
#captain swan#killian jones#emma swan#there is probably a lot of spelling mistakes in this#i wrote all of this on my phone 💀 not a joke#steph writes#cs fics#cs fanfic#captain swan fanfic
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Writer's Month Day 18: Free
Fandom: Carmen Sandiego (Netflix)
Rating: G
Word Count: 2,730 (just dawned on me to include this, lol)
Summary: Carmen and Player have some time to themselves before meeting up with the others, and Player has a fit of inspiration for a fun way to spend it. After all, a park lawn presently being watered by sprinklers is basically an open invitation.
Author's Note: Someone in this fandom (not sure who) formed the headcanon that Player takes a gap year when he turns 18 and travels the world with Carmen; this fic makes use of that. Happy readng!
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“So:” Player didn’t look up from his phone as he walked, tapping and swiping through windows with practiced speed. “Shadowsan should get here later this evening, and Ivy and Zach tomorrow. Their ACME job just wrapped up in Seoul, so they’re good to hit an early flight first thing. Provided the plane leaves as scheduled, they should touch down sometime around ten-thirty, we all swing by the hotel to drop their stuff off, and then we should be good to get started on some sightseeing. Sound good?”
Merry lines crinkled around Carmen’s eyes as she looked over at Player, walking alongside her. He used the same clipped efficiency she remembered from the briefings that flowed through her comms before countless capers back when they were taking down VILE, and hearing it again caused something warm and comfortable to stir in her chest.
Was this what nostalgia felt like?
“Red?”
At the verbal nudge, Carmen blinked back to the mostly-empty park they were walking through and met his questioning look with a grin. “Perfect. It’s almost like you’ve done this before.”
“Who, me?” Player blinked up at her- he’d grown taller since she first saw him in-person, but she still had a good two or three inches on him- with obviously feigned innocence. “An expert in booking flights and scheduling rendezvous? What do I look like, some kind of tech genius to an incurable globetrotter who still can’t figure out how to book her own airline tickets?”
Carmen chuckled. “Something like that. And hey,” his footsteps broke out of their steady rhythm as she nudged him playfully with her shoulder. “I’m getting there. I booked our tickets to Osaka myself, didn’t I? And the train tickets to Matsumoto?”
He answered with an impressively flat look.
“Okay,” she amended. “Mostly by myself.” Because no matter that she was the one operating the touchpad and clicking the appropriate buttons, the feat would have been impossible without Player perched next to her in the hotel, coaching her through each screen and patiently pointing out where to click.
“That’s more like it. But hey, a few more cities, and you’ll be a pro. Maybe not as good as me, of course...”
Carmen huffed a laugh.“I can live with that. You said we’ve got time before meeting up with Shadowsan?”
Back down to the phone Player dove, pulling up and scrolling through windows with a speed Carmen’s eyes never could keep up with. “Just checking for any delays or traffic slow-downs...” he muttered as Carmen, at the rapid pattering of a jogger coming up behind them, took ahold of his elbow and steered him onto the grass (they’d already nearly been bowled over by her twice and what kind of master thief nearly had the same accident three times?).
“About half an hour.” Player slid the phone back into his pocket, matching his stride to hers as they stepped back onto the pavement.
Carmen hummed thoughtfully. Not much time, relatively speaking, but after a couple of months traveling together, they’d gotten remarkably good at making the most of even the briefest length of time. “We can work with that. Anything you want to-”
A sharp hissing sound cut her off. They both stopped and looked towards sprawling emerald-green lawn the path bordered, where an army of sprinkler heads had just popped out of the ground and were busily filling the air with misty plumes of droplets, sprayed out in wide, sweeping arcs over the grass. Player whipped towards Carmen, grinning wide, eyes alight with a sudden idea.
Carmen tilted her head in confusion, brow arched in incomprehension. They were just sprinklers, nothing to get excited about.
“It’s a hot day,” he said in a leading tone, nodding towards the lawn. “Want to cool off a bit?”
Carmen blinked.
....He couldn’t be serious.
Her confusion must have showed (not that it would have made a difference if it didn’t; she’d never cease to be amazed by just how well he could read her), because now he was looking at her with disbelief. “Don’t tell me you’ve never ran through sprinklers?”
“Uh...no?” Carmen looked over his shoulder at the grass being subjected to a localized rain shower, brows furrowed. Run *through* them? Was this a Canadian thing?
“Seriously?” Player looked at her quizzically. “No one, like, ever set up sprinklers to water the Academy lawns?”
She shrugged flippantly. “Never needed to. It rained a lot.”
“And your mom?”
“Artificial turf. She said she gave up on grass a long time ago.” Because apparently, grass did not mix with dozens of kids stampeding over it day in and day out for a decade plus.
”Uh-huh...” Player nodded slowly, letting her answer sink in. The second it did a grin burst across his face, impossibly wide and bright enough to cause Carmen to fight a squint. “Then this is perfect! I can finally show you something cool!”
The uncomprehending brow was arched higher. “Niagra Falls doesn’t count?” Because from where she stood, thousands of gallons of water rushing over a cataract was definitely a more impressive sight than urban lawn care.
“That’s different.” Player waved a hand, brushing aside one of the natural wonders of the world like it was as pedestrian as a rain puddle. “This is a summertime tradition. Every kid does it at least once. You *have* to. It’s the rule.”
A smirk answered him. “Even if I got hung up on rules-“ (they both knew she still didn’t), “I’m pretty sure they don’t apply here. I’m twenty-two.”
Player shrugged, unbothered by the technicality that was age. “So? Better late than never.” He crossed his arms and looked at her archly. “Don’t tell me the great Carmen Sandiego is afraid of getting a little wet?”
Carmen huffed through her nose. “Of course not.”
“Then...?”
“It’s just...” she chewed her lip, rolling her eyes upwards, away from his quietly expectant face to search the cloudless sky for words, then shrugged lamely. ”I’m just not used to doing ‘kid stuff?’” A pathetic answer, she knew, especially since she knew Player knew what an average day at the orphanage looked like for her, but playing tag with the kids in her mom’s yard or even Marco Polo with Zach and Ivy at a hotel pool (an old mainstay during their travels, one she’d never tired of and was frankly looking forward to once they finished sightseeing tomorrow and returned to the hotel; now that Player was here, they were going to try teams) just felt...different from what Player was proposing.
She supposed VILE was to blame for her hesitation, at least partway. She *was not* a part of them, but their old lessons were still a part of her, from protecting the face to perfecting the featherlight touch that was a master of stealth’s perennial pride to more delicate lessons in criminal comportment, memories tinted with the posh, perfumed scent of Cleo’s classroom. A professional thief, per the haughty echo that still rang in the back of her thoughts, always carried themselves with dignity while out in the field, a mantle of aloofness that precluded any unsavory questions from passers-by being an indispensable part of any outfit. Accordingly, when she’d taken up her own mission of bringing VILE to its knees, her modus operandi had, by habit, included the attitude of abstaining from any public displays of spectacle.
So, yes, VILE had a hand in her hesitation, but...not fully. Part of her sensed that even if she had grown up as her father intended, ignorant of them and away from their clutches, she’d still be wearing the mantle, albeit out of nature. She just...wasn’t that sort of person, she supposed, to spontaneously run through sprinklers in a public park, saving those indulgences in ‘kid stuff’ for more private venues; a mirror of sorts to how Zach and Ivy never did share her enjoyment of high-class galas (both far preferring the street fair fundraisers they frequented back in San Diego which, she could admit, held their own charms).
Player’s expression softened as he listened between the lines. “I get it, Red, but look around.” She obediently did, scanning the park in all of a second. The day, even as it slid towards evening, was too hot for most people to brave the outdoors, and the only person in sight that same laser-focused jogger who had eyes only for the pavement speeding under her Reeboks.
Player followed Carmen’s gaze as she tracked the woman and, in answer to her knotting brows: “I doubt she’d notice.”
Carmen didn't. True, the woman had proven to have commendable tunnel vision, but two definitely-not-kids running through sprinklers making a spectacle would likely be the exact sort of occurrence that would *force* her to take notice of her surroundings.
Hence her opinion remained unchanged: no way
But when she looked back at Player with a disagreement on her lips he was holding out a hand, hopeful, eager. “Please, Red? It’s fun...”
She supposed she should be embarrassed at how little it took for her to capitulate to puppy-dog-eyes and an enticing sing-song, but, well, what else could she do when such a request came from her best friend? And, well, when she looked at the sprinklers, still chkk chkk chkk-ing away, the sound oddly enticing, she couldn’t ignore the fact that a part of her really did want to.
She offered one final rebuttal, but the smirk curving the words robbed it of any purpose beyond their old, familiar banter. “I doubt getting soaking wet in your clothes is fun.”
"Oh, just wait."
The second she set her hand in his, he tightened his grip and bolted onto the lawn, darting through the jets of water and dragging her after him. Droplets laughed against her skin, splashing and tickling her with a cool so sudden she gasped. Then the laughter was seeping into her, causing a light, tripping feeling to bubble up in her chest. Ahead of her, Player tugged left, taking Carmen in a zig zag path, not missing a jet of water, laughing loud as she shrieked at each spray they crashed through, the giddy, wheeling sensation in her chest at last spilling over into a rush, wild and without reserve, of girlish giggles.
The sound spurring him on, Player banked sharp to a right, heading for a sprinkler head whose fan shaped plume was arcing high, unfurling straight into the air. A wild light blazed in Carmen's eyes as she saw his intention, and she summoned a burst of speed so she was no longer being dragged behind him, but running alongside, then ahead, strides long and pounding as she gathered herself and leaped through the spray, elegant and unfettered to cause the roe envy. She kept her speed as she landed, heading for the next jet to the soundtrack of Player racing not terribly far behind, whooping in a way she hadn’t heard before and cheering with abandon as she flew, arms spread out wide behind her, through spray after joyous spray, a wilding set free.
Crud, she would always be amazed at how good it felt to just play, no constraining rules or machinations for victory; no confining chessboard or suits of diamonds or spades to pen you in; just her and Player running through sprinklers, getting absolutely soaked for the fun of it. It was exhilarating in a way the capers never had been.
“There!” Player, bangs dripping into his eyes, laughed when they at last came to a stop on the far side of the lawn. “Told you it was fun!”
Carmen pushed a tendril behind her ear. “Yeah,” she panted, grinning wide, a lightness somersaulting joyously in her chest. Really, it was more than fun; she couldn’t explain how, but the sensation of racing through the jets coupled with the feel of her decidedly damp shirt clinging to her skin was oddly freeing, unlatching a door inside her she hadn’t realized had been shut and loosing all manner of coltish, frolicsome impulses she never knew were hidden inside her. She grinned slyly over at Player. “But you know what would be more fun?” Not giving him time to answer, she tapped him on the head. ”Tag!”
“Wha-“ he blinked after her as she bolted through the sprinklers again, fleet as the wind and completely heedless of the jets, shouting, over her shoulder, “You’re it!”
For a moment he stared, wondering how in the world Carmen, who’d needed an explanation for ‘Simon says’ when her mom asked her to lead the littler kids in a game, knew what ‘tag’ was (the possibility of Shadowsan teaching her back on the Island both did and did not make sense), then threw off contemplation in favor of, with a cry of “La Femme Rogue!” that would have had Zach and Ivy in stitches and Julia trying very hard not to be, taking off after Carmen.
“You will not escape this time!”
Such a bold statement very nearly came true as his quarry nearly doubled over laughing as she stumbled to a stop, hands wrapped around her middle (crud, that was a terrible impression).
“Ah ha! She has a weakness!”
“Not fair!” Carmen panted as she straightened and resumed running, albeit with a smaller gap between pursuant and pursuer than before.
“All’s fair in- WHOA!”
Proving that even in imitation she held the advantage over her old adversary, Carmen pivoted on a dime so Player’s reaching hand armed with ‘Tag!’ completely missed its mark and, being propelled by its owner’s momentum, proceeded to cause said owner to topple towards the ground. Player hastily tried to correct his balance, slow his fall, and regain footing in the slick grass, but ultimately his efforts proved futile, seeing him faceplant heavily- Thud! -on the ground.
A candle attacked by a bucket of water was doused slower than the sprightly mood that had glistened over the lawn.
“Player!” Carmen darted to kneel by her friend, breathing heavily but otherwise motionless. She moved to grasp his shoulder to shake, then thought better of it, leaving her hand hovering uncertainly in midair. “Player, I am so sorry, are- can you-“ Crud, she much, *much* preferred being the unconscious one. “Can you even hear me?!?”
“...Red?”
Carmen breathed out a sigh of relief (small relief, he could still be concussed or paralyzed or a dozen other grim possibilities). “Player, thank goodness, are you hurt or-“
“M’fine, Red. Just...”
She bent closer as he trailed off to hear better, completely missing how one of his hands was scuttling towards a sprinkler jet.
“Yeah?”
“YOU’RE IT!”
Grasping the head, Player shoved his thumb over the jet so it sprayed directly at Carmen.
“AUGH!!!” She fell back, spluttering and trying (uselessly) to shield her face from the spray with her hands as Player leapt to his feet, front smeared with mud and grass but eyes wild with fun. “That doesn’t count!” she managed once the water was back on its normal trajectory. “You didn’t tag me!”
“Eh,” Player shrugged, unrepentant. “A technicality. Besides, I thought you didn’t get hung up on rules?”
“Fair point,” Carmen, after some deliberation, conceded with a slow, thoughtful nod. She stood, idly brushing some blades of grass from her thighs. “And since we’re playing that way...”
She glanced up at Player, and he gulped, catching the way the sun snagged on the mischievous glint in Carmen’s eyes. “Uh oh.”
“I’ll give you a head start.”
On her next circuit, the impossible happened and the jogger paused, running in place as she watched the pair frolicking in the sprinklers, the earlier game of Tag having devolved into a tickle fight. A smile blossomed across her face and she turned to a man who had just materialized beside her, also watching the pair. “Nice to see young people enjoying themselves.”
“Yes.” The man nodded his concurrence, the years melting from his weathered face at an especially wild peal from the girl as the boy attacked an unusually ticklish spot on her ribs (no regrets on divulging that secret to him, that was certain). “It most certainly is.”
And none, Shadowsan thought with a grin as the jogger moved on and he turned back the way he came, letting Carmen and Player have this moment to themselves, the laughter frolicking at his heels lifting the corners of his mouth, deserve it more.
#writersmonth2023#writersmonth#carmen sandiego#player#player bouchard#carmen sandiego 2019#in which i write#my writing#cs fanfic#cs fics#carmen sandiego fanfiction#carmen fanfic#carmen fic#fanfic
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Fic prompt, anyone??
It’s been years (YEARS), but @4getfulimaginator2022 has gotten me curious about writing a LITTLE something. But... nothing’s jumping out at me. Send me an easy prompt for CS?? I have all tomorrow to write it up.
No one knows me anymore, so I’ll be hitting the prompt tags for help too!
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Je hebt mijn hart | Carlos Sainz
Genre: Fluff
Pairing: Carlos Sainz x Verstappen!Reader
Summary: Carlos is your schatje...
A/N: this was for a request, hope you guys like it!
You sit beside a sleeping figure. There are beeps of the machine and lines indicating your lover's constant heartbeat.
You heave a sigh of relief as you wipe your tears.
Carlos has been admitted to the hospital for appendicitis and you haven't left his side for a second, no matter how many times his parents and your parents have told you to get some rest.
You were terrified while he was in surgery. Although the chances of complication in a surgery of appendicitis are extremely rare- that isn't to say that they aren't there. You know it well, having studied medicine.
You want him to wake up as soon as possible. Your eyes are droopy and head is heavy, almost falling asleep. But you hear slight movement and jolt awake.
“Carlos.” You smile at him as he opens his eyes.
“Schatje,” you gently stroke his hand as he squints.
“Where am I? Do I know you?”
Carlos stares at you intently. Your heart sinks to the bottom of your chest.
You're worried. What happened? Why can't he recognise you? It was a surgery of the abdomen, not the brain. Is he still under the influence of the anesthetic?
“Schatje, schatje. I will call the doctor.”
Just as you get up, he pulls you back.
“I was just kidding.”
He starts laughing. You feel like hitting him because he scared the shit out of you. Of course you won't hit him…
You'll wait till he gets better. The mere thought makes you chuckle. You pull yourself back to reality as Carlos groans.
“How are you?” You ask him, as he loosens his grip on your forearm.
“It is a little painful but not as before.”
You nod.
“You haven't slept in a while, have you?” Carlos stirs in the bed, and the machines start beeping.
“You're supposed to rest, mijn liefje. Don't move.”
You tuck him back inside the blanket and check the monitors. All good.
“I feel better now, Y/N. You should go sleep, mi amor.” He holds your hand gently, making circles at the back of it. The feeling is comforting, although it should be the other way around, but you don't care. You’ve missed him. Missed his touch.
“Carlos! You're awake.” Your conversation is interrupted as his parents enter.
“Y/N, you should go get some rest,” his mom tells you as you stifle a yawn. “We’ll take care of him, don't worry.”
“I'll go in a bit, is that fine?” You reply and she nods at you.
“It reminds me of the time that I had appendicitis,” his dad sits beside him, where you were sitting previously. You and his mom occupy the sofa.
“Won't it be cool if he does an Instagram post as a throwback?” You laugh at your silly idea.
The two of them stop talking and look at you.
“Honey, I think that's a great idea!” His dad smiles at you, and Carlos copies him.
“Sainz 2, Appendicitis 0,” you say, before another yawn.
*****
It's race day. Carlos, your boyfriend, without a job for next year, and now, a missing appendix. It's an important day for your lover. He's back in shape despite the pain, despite the fact that the doctor told him not to exert.
You sigh. He won't listen to anyone. He says that he has a point to prove- the fact that he's worth staying in this fast paced F1 world.
A world where careers can shatter in a millisecond.
You're torn between the Ferrari and Red Bull garage. You decide to hang out at the Red Bull garage.
“I'm worried, Max.” You tell him as he prepares himself for the race.
“Don't be. He'll be fine. Go be with him. I'll be fine too.”
“Good luck, Max.” You hug your brother as you walk towards the Ferrari garage.
A few mechanics give you the side eye as they watch you coming from the Red Bull garage. You haven't made your relationship public yet.
Carlos is sitting with his race engineer, going through some last minute instructions. He spots you and gives you the biggest smile ever.
“Good luck,” you mouth to him. You wish you could hug him, or just reassure him. But you can't. If people get to know about your relationship with Carlos, chaos will ensue. So you've kept it pretty lowkey, for a while now.
The race is intense. You're sitting at the Red Bull garage with Christian, and you can sense his disappointment in the third lap.
Max is obviously disappointed. So is everyone inside the garage. You have mixed feelings- struggling between Max’s DNF and Carlos’s lead.
You hide your pride as the race continues. The last lap has a lot going on, but when it all ends, you cheer from within.
Carlos has won. It's a 1-2 Ferrari win and a McLaren at the 3rd position.
You let out a big cry of happiness and everyone starts staring at you. Christian shakes his head and Max and Kelly start laughing.
You smile in embarrassment.
*****
You're sitting at the dinner table. Max is on your right and Carlos on the left. You've booked a table at a posh restaurant. Kelly and Penelope have joined too.
“Schatje, have some more curry please,” you tell Carlos, before serving some curry to him.
“Congratulations Carlos. You had a good race today,” Max speaks. That's the thing you love about Max- no matter how he was earlier, no matter how competitive is F1 as a motorsport, Max will always support you and your relationship with Carlos.
“Thank you Max. I'm sorry you had a DNF today.”
“That's what life is.” Max responds back.
“Mien liefje.. do you want something else?”
“Mien liefje,” Max laughs. Kelly nudges him. “Looks like someone is in love.”
“You and your never ending saga of cute nicknames for Carlos…” He speaks, making you blush.
Carlos smiles at you.
You feel conscious throughout rest of the dinner.
Max, Kelly and Penelope give you your space with Carlos, leaving a little bit early.
“I'm glad you won today,” you say, taking a bite of your tiramisu.
Carlos stares at you in amazement.
“What, is there something in my teeth?”
“No. I just wanted to say thank you for always supporting me.”
“Of course, Carlos. Always.”
As you walk back to your hotel, it's almost 2 am in the night. The walk back is peaceful. You intertwine your hand with his. A warmth spreads across your entire body- a warmth of love and joy.
You're flying back to your home tomorrow. You'll miss Carlos a lot, but you have a job to take care of. And the best part about him is that he understands.
You stand in front of the hotel. You're both staying at separate hotels. Carlos insisted on dropping you first and then going back to his hotel.
He softly kisses you.
“Je hebt mijn hart.”
“What does that mean?”
“You have my heart.”
“Je hebt mijn heart,” he repeats, before kissing you again.
#f1#formula 1#carlos sainz#f1 fic#f1 x you#f1 x y/n#f1 x female reader#f1 x reader#carlos sainz x reader#carlos sainz x you#carlos sainz x y/n#carlos sainz x female reader#cs55#cs55 imagine#cs55 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 one shot#leclercings#cs 55 leclercings#cs55 leclercings
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Sketchy inspired by Obligation of Kings by @kaerwrites
#captive prince#cs pacat#laurent of vere#capri#damen of akielos#lamen#damen x laurent#obligation of kings#read obligation of kings#this fic is killing me#duty of princes is going to end me for good. rip Laur Cat Prince#i miss drawing capri stuff#my treat
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Competitively Stupid | Steve Harrington
》 PAIRING: steve harrington x female!reader
》 TROPE/GENRE: rivals-ish (since childhood) to lovers, some angst; fluff
》 SUMMARY: It was stupid, jumping off a cliff just to prove that you were better than Steve fucking Harrington. But you were competitive. You were not losing to him. But you know what was stupider? For it to take a near-death situation for you both to confess what you truly feel for each other.
》 WARNINGS: canon divergent (everyone is alive & well & happy thanks), pet names (sweetheart, baby), shitty parents (on both sides), competitiveness on all accounts, r is basically a counterpart of steve during high school (cheerleading captain, queen of hawkins high, swim team captain, etc.), peer pressure-ish, some stupid decisions & stupider actions, very irresponsible cliff jumping (which doesn't end well), drowning, CPR, injuries, an emotional moment™, love confessions, and a happy, sappy ending.
》 WORD COUNT: 5.3k+
A/N: hi! okay, well, it's been a while since i posted a steve fic so i'm kinda nervous ngl. also, not me making it a habit to include swimmer!steve in all my fics from here on out. this was meant to be short & sweet to dust off the cobwebs but lol. super random. i saw a video of someone cliff-jumping & boom, the idea was born. also, not me using the first aid training i learned in college.
📍 BLOG NAVIGATION
✩ STEVE H. MASTERLIST ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩
⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.
This was stupid.
Absolutely idiotic.
You genuinely have no idea why you were even doing this in the first place.
"There's no way you can do it."
Right.
That's why.
The taunting voice of Steve fucking Harrington was the reason why you were standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down at a thirty-foot drop into the dark ocean.
This was supposed to be a relaxing trip with your new found family.
"You know you don't have to listen to him, right?" Robin sighed, so completely over the fact that her two best friends who never got along no matter what she tried, somehow came to an agreement to not listen to her right now.
Not that you could blame her.
You and Steve had been rivals ever since you were kids.
It was what you had always known.
What with narcissistic parents who used their children as pawns to one up each other, you had been conditioned to see him as an enemy from the second you step foot into their home.
Your family was invited into the Harrington residence for dinner as a way of welcoming you to the neighborhood. You recently just moved in, so you didn't know anyone else yet. When you heard that the next-door neighbor had a son who was your age, you had been really excited to gain a new friend.
All that changed when your dad sat you down an hour before, prepping you about how the Harringtons were a respected family in the town, and that you needed to show them you weren't any less than them, if not show them you were better. He drilled it in your brain to be on your best behavior, to be the best and the perfect daughter.
It only got worse when you finally sat down at that dinner table.
The comparisons were endless.
"See, my daughter here is a wonderful gymnast, quite amazing for someone her age."
"How wonderful. Steven here has swimming lessons every weekend. His coach said he might end up in the Olympic team once he's of age."
"Splendid. How about his academics? I'm sure he can take inspiration from my daughter's exemplary grades."
"He's the top of his class. Maybe if they study together, your daughter would be able to catch up in time."
It was harsh, pitting two seven-year-olds against each other—impressionable kids who only wanted to make their mom and dad proud.
But neither your parents nor his truly gave a shit. All they cared about was becoming the best family in the street, if not the whole town.
The sad thing was, those dinners became a regular thing, held alternately between your house and his.
It always looked like a preparation for battle whenever your mom would pull out the finest china in her collection along with the cookbook she only ever used for special occasions.
It was in the guise of cordiality when it was, in fact, an excuse to show off, to make a competition out of everything, a moment to compare who did what best. Those dinners were like monthly scoreboards, tallying up the respective families' recent achievements—and that included yours and Steve's.
Nobody was surprised that the competitiveness stuck with you both.
And it only got worse during high school.
Whether that was something as mundane as winning the popularity contest when running different circles—even going as far as getting crowned the King and Queen of Hawkins High—down to academics and extracurriculars.
Captain of the basketball team. Captain of the cheerleading squad. Prom Queen. Prom King. MVP of the season. Brightest student of the year. Beer pong Queen. Kegstand King. Best summer camp counselor. Lifeguard of the month and it went on and on and on and on.
When he got co-captain for the men's swim team, you rubbed it in his face that you were the captain of the women's team. When you got second place at the science fair, he made sure to rub his first place medal right in your face. When you became president of the student council, you ordered him around to do extra work whenever the basketball team was required to help with community service.
It was a constant back and forth.
There was always a competition between you and Steve Harrington.
And sure, since you graduated, it became subdued. But it was still very much there. Vying on who was the coolest babysitter in your band of ragtags, even fighting to have the title of Robin Buckley's ultimate best friend.
This thing between you and Steve was deeply rooted. So there really wasn't much Robin could do apart from getting in between your frequent squabbles before you started actually killing each other.
In Robin's words, something drastic had to happen for you both to finally wake up and see that this rivalry between you both wasn't what it seemed to be on the surface.
You had no idea what she was even implying.
Now, on a little getaway on the nearest beach you could drive to, the competition started with a race on who could get there first. It wasn't even fair seeing that you weren't the one driving.
The group had split into two, some were in Eddie's van—along with everyone's belongings since he had ample space in the back—while the others were in Steve's Beemer. Since you and Steve couldn't be in the same room together without an argument ensuing, it was a unanimous decision to have you two separated. Nobody wanted to deal with that for hours on the road.
Not that you could blame them, either.
And sure, it was the kids who suggested the race, but with Steve's smug smirk and that arrogant wink he threw once you got into Eddie's passenger seat, you knew it was game on between you too.
Yet despite the metal head being a fast—albeit slightly reckless—driver, he somehow took his sweet goddamn time getting to your destination.
Only when your group arrived at the beach last, did he say something about Steve threatening him to be extra careful with driving because there's important cargo in his van—whatever the hell that meant.
You lost to Steve on that one, but you would argue it was rigged from the start.
The next was a supposed friendly bout on who could build the biggest sandcastle that didn't topple over after a few minutes.
It was boys versus girls with you and him being team leaders. The girls won, obviously and El never used her powers. It was fair and square since the other team mostly argued over everything they could think of and had no teamwork at all. You made sure to point that out to Steve as you watched their sandcastle crumble into ruins.
Another one was beach volleyball. Same leaders as before, but you get to pick the members of your teams this time. Steve made it his mission to pick the tallest of the bunch. Still, it wasn't the advantage he thought it was because it ended up being one point too close.
Your team would've won if Steve wasn't such a dramatic asshole.
It was truly an accident. When you spiked that ball, you were not aiming for his face. He simply thought it was a good idea to catch the ball with it. Besides, he was distracted, flirting with some random girl in a bikini who was passing by, right in the middle of the game.
How was it your fault that he wasn't paying attention?
He made sure to oversell his injury after that, curled up on the sand as the girl fussed over him. But you saw that smirk on his face. You would've hit him again—definitely not by accident this time—if you weren't busy arguing with Robin about the point deduction. She said it was only fair since you hit the ball when she hadn't blown her imaginary whistle yet.
You decided to let it go when Steve commented on you being a whiny sore loser.
Unfortunately, the competition was ending with who could make jumping off a cliff and into the ocean look the coolest—adults only, despite the groans of protest from the mischievous bunch.
Eddie offered to stay behind and watch the rascals. When teased, he simply said he didn't want to test Death today.
His comment didn't help your nerves.
Robin said she was only coming purely as a voice of reason. She'd been saying nonstop how it was a horribly stupid idea, that there really was no need to be doing this in the first place.
But Steve wasn't backing down, so you weren't going to either.
So once again, it was only you and him.
As it always had been.
He volunteered to go first, throwing in a comment about rushing back up the cliff's edge before you could take your turn because he wanted a front-row seat for when you'd chicken out.
It only made you want to do it more.
His dive was smooth, almost flawless, you admit. He even showed off with a little flip near the end. It didn't take long for him to swim back to the shore, either. His years of training as a swimmer were obviously paying off.
But you trained just as much if not more than he had.
The only difference was, adrenaline didn't fuel you as much as it did Steve. So instead of getting all powered up looking down at a cliff's edge like he was, you were terrified.
But who wouldn’t get scared looking down at harsh waves crashing against sharp and jagged rocks? There was no margin for error here because one wrong slip and you'd be dead.
Still, if Steve could do it, you could do it better.
You weren't about to lose to his stupid ass.
"I'm not listening to him," you argued back, taking in a shaky breath as you took a step.
"He's doing reverse psychology!" she squeaked. "So you doing it is still listening to him!"
"I'm fine, Robs, I can do it," you mumbled, a slight questioning lilt at the end of your sentence.
"Look, sweetheart, it's okay to admit defeat," Steve said, cocky voice with an even cockier smile as he crossed his toned arms against his bare chest. His hair was still damp, quick to climb back up so he could get his front-row seat as he promised.
But you weren't chickening out.
Never.
"I mean, it wouldn't be the first time you lost to me so, it shouldn't sting as much."
You ignored him.
Instead, you took another step, the tips of your toes now hanging over the edge.
You can do this. Wipe that smug smirk off his face. You got this.
"Listen, you don't have to do—"
"Shut it, Harrington," you growled.
With a deep breath, you closed your eyes, counting from three, two, one…
You jumped.
-:-:-:-:-:-:-
This was stupid.
Absolutely idiotic.
He shouldn't have pressured you like that.
The jump wasn't deadly, per se, but it also wasn't exactly deemed the safest, especially if you weren't an expert in any sort of way.
And he didn't want to say it out loud because if he did, he knew it would only push you to do it more just to prove him wrong.
But Steve could see how scared you were.
He was already dropping the act, voice laced with concern as he started telling you that he wasn't worth all of this, that he was stupid and that you were always going to be better than him.
But, obviously, you didn't listen.
You simply jumped.
You and your stupidly competitive ass.
"Damn it," he cursed under his breath, rushing to the edge of the cliff, tensely watching your falling figure disappear into the water with a splash.
"You two are complete idiots."
"Shut up," Steve gritted, never looking away from the water. Yet any annoyance was quickly overpowered by sheer worry as he scanned the deep blue for anything.
There was no sign of you.
"Like seriously! It's like I'm the only one with a brain cell here!"
"Come on, come on, come on," Steve mumbled, completely ignoring Robin when you still hadn't emerged to the surface. "Come on, Y/N, don't scare me like this."
"Uh, Steve?" Robin asked after a moment, carefully looking over the cliff before shooting him a worried glance. "You look anxious and you being anxious is making me nervous."
"She hasn't come up," he grumbled, glancing at his watch.
It was nearing a minute.
"Maybe you didn't see her?"
"I haven't taken my eyes off the water, Buckley," he gritted, too harsh and uncalled for since Robin didn't do anything wrong.
But he was panicking.
A minute and thirty seconds.
"Come on, sweetheart, you can do it. You're an amazing swimmer," he whispered encouragingly, hoping some sort of magic would let you hear him underwater all while saying it aloud for his own sanity.
Two minutes.
You could never hold your breath any longer than that.
Steve knew because he always won that competition.
And that was in a calm pool.
"Shit, shit, shit!" he cursed, gearing up to dive after you. "I don't think she's coming up!"
"Okay! Okay," Robin rushed, panicking. "Maybe she's already on the shore. We should go down now and see—"
Steve didn't listen.
He jumped right after you.
The biting cold was awakening.
Still, it was the absolute fear of losing you that was keeping him alert.
He ignored the sting of the salty ocean water in his eyes as he frantically searched for you, his heart beating hard and fast, struggling for oxygen all while fearing for your safety.
Steve didn't know which came first, relief or dread when finally found you, aimlessly floating and unconscious under the deep blue.
He swam to you as fast he could, securely hooking his arm under your shoulder and dragging you up to the surface.
Steve always knew that adrenaline can give you a random boost of strength when needed. He simply didn't expect that to be proven true when he was carrying your unresponsive body in his arms as he brought you to the shore.
He gently placed you on your back on the sand, cupping your face as he checked for any injuries.
You were so cold.
"Hey, hey, wake up," he begged, grabbing your shoulders to try and shake you awake.
Nothing.
"You didn't have to make the jump, you idiot. Why do you always want to prove me wrong," he scolded with no ounce of anger, only worry. He started tapping your cheek frantically. "Come on, wake up!"
Still no response.
"Dammit, Y/N, why'd you have to be so fucking stubborn," he scolded, his voice shaking in fear, his chest tightening as he pressed two fingers against your pulse point.
His own heart stopped when he couldn't feel yours.
And you weren't breathing.
Steve tried to keep himself calm. If he panicked now, he wouldn't be able to give you the aid that you direly need.
"Come on, Harrington. You know what to do. You trained for this," he mumbled to himself, getting into the proper position to give you CPR.
He gently cupped your forehead with his left hand, his other two fingers under your chin as he tilted your head up.
"You're going to be okay," he whispered, pinching your nose before slotting his lips against yours.
Breathing into your mouth, one, two, he watched your chest rise as it filled up with air, only for it to settle back down without coming back up again. He quickly kneeled straighter, locking his fingers together and placing the heel of his left hand in the middle of your chest, pushing down with enough pressure to try and get your heart to start again.
"One, two, three, four, come on, sweetheart, breathe for me," he mumbled, easily finding the right rhythm, his first aid training as a lifeguard coming back to him like it was second nature.
Still, he never wanted to use this skill in a real-life situation, much less use it on you.
It was the longest thirty counts in his life.
Check for a pulse. Check for breathing.
Still nothing.
"Goddammit, Y/N, come on!" he growled, blinking back the tears as he pressed his mouth against yours again.
Two rescue breaths.
Thirty chest compressions.
Steve repeated the cycle over and over. His eyes were stinging with unshed tears, his knees were burning as the rough sand dug deeper into his skin, and his arms were starting to get sore, tiredness slowly covering his aching muscles.
But he'd rather die first than give up on you now.
"Steve—"
"Call for help, Robin!" he ordered, not taking his eyes off you for even a second. When he didn't hear any movement, he yelled, "Don't just stand there! Go!"
He was going to apologize for being an asshole later. For now, he needed you to fucking breathe.
"Come on, come on, please," he begged, leaning back down to give you two more rescue breaths. "Breathe for me, baby, please."
Thirty chest compressions.
"Trying to prove me wrong when I've always been wrong, you idiot."
Five, six, seven—
"Sweetheart, come on," he choked back a sob. "Who's going to call me out when I'm being stupid, huh? You know Robin can't do it alone."
Twelve, thirteen, fourteen—
"And you're really going to leave me alone to watch our kids?"
Twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two—
"Y/N, baby, please, I can't live without you," he whimpered.
Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thir—
Steve felt his breath leave his lungs when you finally gasped for air.
He quickly turned you to your side, rubbing your back as you choked out all the ocean water that got into your system.
"There you go, you're okay," he whispered, whether to reassure you or himself, he didn't even know anymore. All he was focused on was making sure you were going to be okay.
"S-Stevie?" you coughed out the nickname that was only ever used by you.
It was the equivalent to his nickname for you—sweetheart.
Names that started out to annoy each other but the more often it was used as time passed, it only managed to grow into an endearment that held something warm underneath it. You both were quick to realize that the nicknames you had for each other weren't out of spite anymore.
Neither of you simply addressed it.
"Steady, sweetheart, I'm right here," he reassured, hurriedly getting into your line of sight to stop you from trying to turn around to face him. He gently cupped your cheek, offering you a soft smile when your gaze found him. "I'm not going anywhere."
You nodded as best as you could, your eyes clinging onto his brown ones only for them to screw shut when a shiver ran through your whole body.
"C-Cold," you stammered.
"I know, I know, come here," he said softly, guiding you to sit up before quickly settling behind you. He gently pulled you closer between his legs, his chest pressed against your back as he blanketed his body over yours, rubbing your arms to keep you as warm as possible.
You turned to face him slightly, burying your face into his neck only for you to wince at the slight movement. He quickly tried to steady you again, checking over you twice to look for any visible injury. But he couldn't find any.
"Tell me what hurts," he asked, pressing his lips against your cold forehead as he fully wrapped his arms around you.
"A-Ankle," you whimpered in pain, your grip on his waist tightening and God he hated that sound so much.
You must've rolled it when you jumped, and having landed on it when you reached the water, it definitely made it worse.
"It's okay, you're okay," he murmured, littering kisses against the side of your head to try and keep your mind off it. "Robin already called for help, they should be on their way, alright?"
You gave him a small nod, inching even closer to him, seeking as much warmth from him as possible. Your cold breath was tickling his skin but he didn’t care. Hell, you could be breathing fucking ice and he still wouldn’t give a shit.
As long as you were breathing.
"I need you to stay awake for me, okay?"
"I-I'll try," you whispered.
"First to fall asleep is the biggest loser," he mumbled, squeezing you slightly when he felt your eyes flutter close. "And you wouldn't want me to win this, babe, because I'll be a little shit about it."
"Not f-fair," you choked out a laugh.
"It's plenty fair," Steve chuckled tearfully, ignoring the sudden wetness on his cheeks. He hugged you tighter instead. "So stay awake or you'll lose to me. Again."
"Right there! They're right over there!"
Steve had never been so grateful to hear Robin's voice.
-:-:-:-:-:-:-
"So are you finally going to tell her?"
"Tell her what?" Steve questioned back, unable to take his eyes off of you, soundly sleeping in a hospital bed with your foot now wrapped in a cast.
The doctor had already checked everything and thankfully, there weren't any further injuries apart from your twisted ankle.
Now, all you needed was to rest and recover.
"That you've been in love with her this whole time."
Steve sighed, squeezing your hand before turning to look at his best friend.
"I'm not in love with her, Robs."
"Right," she scoffed, raising a knowing brow. "Because jumping off a cliff with zero hesitation so you could save her is totally normal behavior for someone you claim you hate."
"I never said I hated her," he argued, and it was true. He couldn't think of a single moment where he hated you.
"Yeah, well, you two definitely don't act like you like each other."
"Does she annoy and frustrate the shit out of me? Yes. But I never hated her," he admitted.
Steve didn't know what it was exactly, maybe it was his tiredness muddling his brain, maybe it was from everything that happened in the last couple of hours finally catching up to him, or maybe it was the overwhelming need to confess everything into the open before it was too late—and it almost had been. Either way, he found himself suddenly spewing out all the things that he always just kept to himself.
"She's also been the most constant person in my life, you know? Hell, we basically grew up together. I can't just not care about her," he continued, memories flooding his system before he could even stop it. "She's been so ingrained in my life, her and the cute dresses she wore at those stupid dinners our parents always dragged us to. Her and her stupid competitions whenever our babysitters would bring us to the park together. Her and that stupid dance she always did whenever she won at anything even if it was my expense—she always does this cute little wiggle whenever she won, and that never left her even as we got older," Steve chuckled at the thought.
"And fuck, don't even get me started with how similar our parents are. She's the only one who will always get me when it comes to that," he continued. "And yeah, we compete a lot, but there was no hatred between us. Maybe at the start but all that went away when we learned that whatever our parents were feeding us was bullshit—that they were bullshit.
"And fine, did I sometimes get so annoyed whenever she got a new boyfriend? Yeah. But only because she always had this bad habit of dating fucking assholes. I don't know where she got those dickheads from but every time I see a glimpse of her crying by her window at night I swear to fucking God I would've killed every single one of those assholes if she asked," he gritted, slumping down in his seat with a sigh.
"She deserves to be treated right, you know? She's already experiencing so much shit at home, she doesn't need any more of that anywhere else. Sure, she irritates me to no end but that doesn't mean she's not a sweet girl who always cried whenever some random pet commercial came on the TV during the holidays. Does her competitiveness drive me up the wall? Absolutely. But that doesn't mean I don't feel so fucking proud of her whenever she wins another medal or achieves another milestone. And yeah, I wonder about how she's doing, if she's taking care of herself, if she's getting enough sleep between her work and classes. But that's only because I worry, you know?
"And maybe I do think about her a lot but that doesn't mean I'm in love with…"
Steve blinked.
Well fuck.
"Wow," Robin marveled. "You're stupider than I thought."
"He hit his head as a kid, cut him some slack."
Steve paled at the sound of your voice, swiftly turning red at the thought that you probably heard all the things he said.
He turned to face you, groaning in annoyance when he saw the smug smile on your lips. "You've been awake this whole time?"
"I'll leave you two love birds alone," Robin sang, quickly slipping out of the hospital room and closing the door behind her.
"How much of that did you hear?" Steve asked, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Enough to say you're stupid," you hummed.
He rolled his eyes, leaning back in his seat with crossed arms. "I'm not the one who jumped off the cliff and almost died just to prove a fucking point."
"Yeah, well, I guess we're both stupid then," you snorted.
He shrugged. "I guess we are."
"Jesus, you don't have to act so tense. I mean, you've already given me a mouth-to-mouth, we've practically made out already," you scoffed playfully. "I honestly thought I'd die first before swapping spit with you yet here we are."
It was your attempt at alleviating the tension, to throw in a funny quip. But with everything still so fresh in his mind, Steve simply couldn't take it well.
"Don't fucking joke about that will you?" he snapped, rubbing a frustrated hand over his face.
The silence that followed only made the tension worse.
"I'm sorry," you whispered.
Steve immediately felt bad.
"No, no, no. You didn't do anything wrong, don't apologize," he sighed, meeting your eyes with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped. It's just—"
He stopped himself, chewing on his bottom as he looked everywhere but at you when he felt the tears well up again.
"Will you come here?"
Steve took a calming breath and did as you asked, moving his chair closer but didn't attempt anything else than that.
"Stevie," you called when he still wouldn't look at you.
Harshly wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, he lifted his head. You smiled at him sweetly, wiggling your fingers to get him to come even closer.
"You scared me back there," he croaked, taking your hand with a squeeze.
"I didn't mean to," you softly said, remorseful and apologetic even though you didn't have to be.
"I know," he murmured, pressing your warm palm against his cheek as he shot you a glare. "Just don't do that again."
"Promise," you giggled, stroking his cheek with your thumb.
Steve leaned closer into your touch. "How are you feeling?"
"Better, thanks to you," you hummed, brows furrowing in thought. "When Marcus got that black eye, you said it was because he was playing dirty on one of your games." You tilted your head knowingly. "That wasn't true, wasn't it?"
Steve shrugged. "He hurt you."
"It was a small bruise on the arm, Steve," you reasoned.
"He shouldn't be giving you a fucking bruise in the first place," he growled, the memory bringing back the same anger he felt when he first saw that bruise. The soft tapping of your finger against his cheek calmed him down. "Sorry."
"Did you lose on purpose to get him expelled?"
"What? No!" he scoffed, offended, rolling his eyes when you giggled. "I tried so fucking hard to win that fight, you know, for you."
"You've always been protective of me," you hummed, taking his hand and interlacing your fingers together.
"Don't think I didn't know it was you who dyed that poor girl's hair green that one year in middle school summer camp," he retaliated.
It was a sharp and piercing scream that woke up the whole camp that morning. Everyone rushed out of bed to see what was going on only to find a girl who once was blonde was now sporting bright green hair in the middle of the crowd, crying her eyes out.
Steve would've thought it was only some silly prank if he didn't know who the girl was. But he did. Because the day before he tried to ask her to be his girlfriend, only for her to turn him down in the most embarrassing and humiliating way possible.
It wasn't difficult for him to find out who the culprit was since he immediately noticed how you kept hiding your hands in your pockets for the next few days after the incident.
The counselors quickly found out that the little menace—whoever she was—decided to use permanent dye on the poor girl's hair instead of something washable.
Your green palms colored you oh so guilty.
"She called you pathetic and gross in front of everyone!" you argued, pouting. "You looked like you were about to cry and I hated it."
Steve's heart warmed at that, a smile on his face despite rolling his eyes. "I wasn't about to cry."
"Yeah well," you shrugged, eyes trained on your intertwined fingers, your thumb playing with his. "I'm the only one who's supposed to be mean to you."
"Hmm," he agreed, bringing the back of your hand to his lips. "I guess we've always been there for each other, huh?"
"I guess so," you giggled, cupping his cheek and tugging him closer.
He stood up from his seat, following your lead until he was pressing his forehead against yours.
"Thank you for saving my life, Steve," you whispered, eyes turning glossy as so many emotions covered your irises, the weight of what almost happened catching up with you.
"You don't have to thank me for that," he said sincerely, brushing the tip of his nose against yours. "I'd do it over and over again in a heartbeat."
You nodded, sniffling, "Still, thank you."
Steve wasn't able to argue some more when you all but kissed him.
The first time Steve felt your mouth on his was a horrible experience considering he was trying to keep you alive.
Now, everything was the complete opposite.
A kiss that was careful but sweet, a hint of nervousness and excitement all the same, completely unhurried yet burning with passion as his lips molded against yours.
But still, it felt like that first gasp of air—a finally.
"I'm in love with you, too, by the way," you murmured as you pulled away, your warm breath tickling his lips.
"Thanks for clarifying," he chuckled, eyes laced with adoration, unable to stop his smile from growing wider, warmer. "I couldn't figure that out from the kiss."
"I mean, you are kinda stupid," you teased.
"We're on that same boat, sweetheart," he chuckled. "I'm sure Robin would remind us about that every single day now."
"Unfortunately," you groaned playfully. "God, she gets annoying when she's right."
"Tell me about it," he hummed, brushing his lips against yours, moving away when you chased it.
You whined.
Steve didn't hesitate to dive back in.
✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ♛ *.
↬ thank you for reading lovely! reblog & leave a comment if you enjoyed! feedback is always appreciated! ++ consider supporting me on ko-fi if you can <3
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#cs#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington angst#steve harrington x female reader#steve harrington one shot#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington x you#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things fic#my writing
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their love language is touch!!!!
eclipse is from @naffeclipse’s cryptid sightings fic and their lovely design is by @themeeplord!!!
#june art#ok time tot ramble in the tags HAHSHAHSHS#cryptid sightings is a fic with Lots of Emotions i CANNOT recommend it enough#there are some scenes that i super duper wanna draw…..#im not finished reading it yet ( 3 chapters to go!!! ) but it is so HSHSGHDHSGSHSGS. . . . /pos#ECLIPSE IS SO.#i adore meeplord’s design for them so much RRGRGRGRGGRGRGRGRGRHh#it’s how i visualize eclipse whenever i read cs now#the horns the teeth the EVERYTHING#so heart emoji heart emoji!!!!!!!#cryptid sightings#cryptid sightings au#cryptid!eclipse#described#id in alt
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A Sunder (isat post-canon fic!) doodle and misc. Siffrins!
#art#isat#in stars and time#sasasa#start again start again start again#siffrin isat#isat spoilers#in stars and time spoilers#isat act 6 spoilers#in stars and time act 6 spoilers#loop isat#isat au#in stars and time au#isat Sunder fic tag#The second one was me just playing around with CS Paint-- I bought it recently
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Ω PJO DEMIGOD HEADCANONS:
⚒ HEPHAESTUS: God of Forges, Fire, Sculpture, Metalworking, Stone Masonry, Carpenter, Metallurgy, Artisan, and Volcanoes 🔥
author's note: I had a sudden idea about writing some headcanons Camp Halfblood demigods being claimed and what it's like for each respective god and cabin, followed by a small blurb afterwards. Thank you for reading and please like and reblog! The order is not in order of the cabin numbers. [PJO DEMIGOD HEADCANONS MASTERLIST]
When you get claimed, there are a bunch of cheers and impromptu fireworks from your half-siblings. You watch some unfortunate individuals near your siblings jump feet in the air with hands flying to their ears, and some people diving for the ground.
When you get introduced to your new living arrangement, there is a spillover from the Cabin and the Forge & Armoury; where there are just random parts in the Cabin and cots and bedrolls next to the Furnaces. You didn’t know where the living quarters or the forges began and ended.
There is an initiation at your cabin where you introduce yourself to your cabin mates with your craft. It could’ve been the first craft you ever made, your favourite invention, or make it an entirely new thing.
You get your own little workspace and for some hint of cohesion, your workspace is assigned a category; based on your craft. If you’re an engineer, you’re put with the other engineers. If you’re an artisan, you’re put with the other artisans.
You’re constantly surrounded by people sharing their ideas or inputting, even at dinner and during bed times. But careful saying which stuff out loud lest you get a complaint from Chiron when you and your siblings have a debate on the best way to make something.
Because of the furnaces, you are shown how to keep the furnaces running when it's technically bedtime; one the exceptions given to your cabin for curfew. Because even though they have magical means, you can’t let the furnaces die out or you have to spend three days heating up the kiln all over again. And no, you’re not allowed to use Greek Fire or later, the dragon around Thalia’s tree to heat up the furnaces if they die out. Don’t ask why but all you know is the Ka-Boom incident. You can imagine why.
A perk with being on duty is that you can stay up later than everyone else and get to sneak in some late night meals; your seniors treated you to stuff from s’mores, roasted potatoes, and other foodstuffs by using the furnaces. Just don’t make too much stuff or you’re going to have a bunch of campers at your cabin asking for goodies.
Work hazards are always around and while there are preventive measures in place, things happen. These range from inventions going haywire, exploding fire, or just normal accidents. Don’t feel bad if they happen, everyone immediately jumps in to help out. You learn how to move fast and think fast.
Being a Child of Hephaestus and being part of the cabin have their overlaps with the Athena, Apollo, and Hermes cabin.
If you don’t have the power to manipulate fire, as a child of Hephaestus you still have a higher immunity of fire and heat. Paired that up with the engineering, your cabin is also the unofficial fire station. You jumped with the fire alarm went off in the cabin and everyone got up to grab gear to put out the fires at Camp.
There were exploding multicolour lights that were going off in the air. Some were like the regular fireworks you’ve seen, but then there were fireworks that reminded you of that scene in the Lord of the Rings movie: where the fireworks seemed to not only come alive but move like they were. The smoke of gunpowder filled the air and you coughed. Fireworks were still going off as the children of Hephaestus were still cheering.
You then saw a large burky boy step forward and you knew he was one of your half-siblings. He looked very imposing but as he looked at you with a smile, all initial fear disappeared and you saw the warmth behind his smile. He then grinned at you and held out his hand, “I hope you liked the fireworks, we do this all the time when we welcome those into Cabin 9. I’m Charles Beckendorf, Cabin Counselor.”
You took his hand to shake and you instantly could feel the calluses on his hand, and how comforting warm it was. He clapped you on the back as he led you towards your cabin, as the others followed.
#pjo fanfic#pjo imagine#percy jackson and the olympians imagines#pjo#pjo imagines#child of hephaestus#hephaestus#children of hephaestus#charles beckendorf#charles beckendorf imagine#pjo fic#pjo x reader#demigod imagines#demigod#demigod headcanons#demigod h/cs#pjo reader insert#cabin 9#hephaestus cabin#percy jackson and the olympians imagine#percy jackon and the olympians
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Hi @naffeclipse I'm very normal about your fic. Have some frantic midnight sketches as extra kudos along with some tag rambling :)
#my ârt#crush depth#crush depth spoilers#fnaf#tw blood#tw drowning#idk how many others apply#anyways this is midnight crow coming out of the shadow realm to scream at you#first of all a cs ramble is on the way I'm still recovering from that fic too#im biting you naff im biting you so dang hard#I don't even know much about iron lung besides watching a play through but damn do you make me want to know more#just. where do I even start. the atmosphere is established so well and even though there was such a small space to work with I FELT it#I felt the claustrophobia I felt the walls and the console and the single dim lightbulb as my only solace in this death trap#the THOUGHTS#poor yn had so much time to just get lost in their head and spiral pretty much constantly#the dread. the constant overhanging dread of knowing there's a 99% chance they're not getting out of there alive and at this point#they just want to accept it and let it end bc there's hardly anything to go back to if they live#naff. look at me. reading some parts made my chest actually tighten with dread. it was so well done.#this poor human just buried in existential horror and just wanting it to end in a slightly less painful way#and the unknowable beings trapped outside who absolutely REFUSE to let that happen#god those eldritch fish were trying their hardest but just couldn't get in#yn was trapped inside while they were trapped outside and I just#I am EXPLODING the more I think about it#thinking about when they thought they were drowning and tried to breathe again#wanting to die but still having that instinct to survive#asking to be ripped apart but still cherishing their last breath of air#I'm shaking you I'm shaking you I'm dying on the floor#ough.#I'll never mentally recover from this and I want you to know I genuinely get inspired by your writing#this has been midnight crow ramblings. I just hit the tag limit. have a lovely night.
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the scars we bare ch2
aaaaand here's part two. if you saw me promise this would be done on tuesday no you didn't <333
thank you to everyone who took the time to read this. it nearly killed me and i loved it
summary: emma swan came to the underworld with one purpose; to rescue the man she loved from hades' grip. and she would do anything, sacrifice everything in order to that happen. when hades offers her a deal, a test of their true love, she takes it. in the end though, the bargain might just take more for them than they have to give. S5B canon divergence
tw: minor moments of gore and torture, also brief mentions of abuse
✨ ch1 | Ao3 link ✨
Hades hadn’t lied about starting from the beginning. The memories they witnessed were, quite literally, some of the earliest moments of their lives. From infancy to childhood, the memories seemed to blur together. At times they watched together, both occupying the same head, witnessing old, long forgotten moments. Other times they were separated, both of them lost in the long, endless tunnel of sound and noise that led to yet another moment in time.
As the memories blurred together, one into the next, it occurred to Killian how similar their childhoods were. Aside from the time and setting, they could almost be confused for the same, miserable adolescence. The same empty bellies, the same too-cold nights, the same edgy fear of the too-large hands that reached out to slap or to hit. And sometimes, in the worst memories, the hands that would reach out and grab. The hands that would pet and coax, almost comforting. But even in the minds of the young children they knew not to trust them. So they ran. And when they couldn’t run, they fought. They bit and screamed and clawed until the large hands learned not to touch so easily.
Through it all, one key difference made itself apparent. The loneliness. Killian had felt small as a child, had felt fear and isolation, but never truly lonely, not when he had Liam. Liam who fought for him, who protected him, who held him through the worst of it. Emma had no one. She floated through her hopeless childhood completely and totally alone.
At times people would drift in, foster parents who promised to love her, friends who tried to get closer. But in the end, they left. They always left.
Memories of Ingrid and Lily seemed to blur together. The bright hopeful spark that this person, this bond, would be different. That they would choose her and mean it. And when their betrayals hit her, blindsided her defenses, it hardened her. She built walls around her heart so high no one would ever scale them again. Killian ached for her.
Through the bond he felt her, felt her presence, and tried to reach for her. He felt her hesitation, and imagined himself wrapping his arms around her. The feeling of her stilled, then softened, curling into him.
He’d spent nearly three centuries alone like that. It ate at a person. He couldn’t imagine a life that had known only that aching, hollow loneliness from the very beginning.
Eventually the memories slowed. They became mundane and repetitive. It felt as if they were watching days pass just for the sake of wasting time. Hades was toying with them, drawing out the memory spell to keep them there longer. Killian pushed against it.
That’s enough, he thought loudly inside his head. Do you hear me hades? I said that’s enough.
The memories broke apart, dropping them back into the middlemist field. Killian staggered, glaring at the god lounging in the chair. He had a drink now, a bright blue cocktail with a miniature umbrella sticking out from it. He toasted them with it and grinned.
“Enjoying the show?”
“You’ve made your point,” Killian snapped. “We don't need to drag this out.”
Hades' eyes grew sharp, focusing on something behind Killian. “Oh I don't know about that,” he said quietly.
Killian turned and stopped. Emma swayed behind him, her eyes unfocused, her face white. He rushed to her, his hand moving to her face, his hooked arm snaking around her when she faltered and nearly fell.
“Emma! Emma, look at me.”
Refusing to take his eyes off her, he snarled back at Hades. “What the hell did you do to her?”
“Just following the rules of our deal. Isn’t that right Emma?”
Emma groaned, trying to push herself free from Killian's hold, but his arms didn’t move.
“Killian, it’s ok,” she said with a croak in her voice. “I just need a minute.”
“What is he talking about? What does he mean ‘the rules of your deal?’”
Emma took a long shuddering breath and pulled herself upright, standing taller. Some colour returned to her cheeks and Killian cautiously let his grip on her relax.
“He told me that in order for him to trust me, to make sure that I would see this through and mean it, I'd have to put some of my magic into it.”
Killian felt dawning horror bleed from his chest and into his lungs.
“What does that mean?” he asked quietly.
She looked at him. “The memory spell he's using, it’s mine. I’m the one who cast it.”
There was a ringing in Killian’s ears, a shrill, staticky whine that made the world fade away for a moment. Her magic. They were standing inside her spell. He tried to think of how much power a spell of this size would take to keep going, and couldn’t conceive of it. Every moment that passed, ever second they stayed there, she was expending magic at an alarming rate. He could see it now, from the way her hands shook to how her skin looked thin enough to see through. It was devouring her. The magic was drinking her dry, hungry and unstoppable.
Hades let out a gleeful giggle and clapped his hands. “And there it is! I was wondering when you’d tell him.”
Killian heard the god of death move, and turned to watch him as he strutted closer. “A bit different when you’re not the dark one hmm? You’ll notice the magic hits just a liiiittle bit harder using light magic instead of all that infinite dark one mojo.”
“Go to hell,” Emma muttered, glancing back at Killian. “I'm ok. I swear I'm ok.”
“Were you ever going to tell me?” he asked, not quite able to keep the betrayal from his voice.
She looked at him for a long, heartbreaking moment. Something tragic flashed in her gaze, there and gone in seconds. “Would you have agreed if you knew?”
“No,” he said reflexively. The truth. He wouldn’t have. “But that was my choice to make Emma.”
She nodded “I know.”
"Can you end it? Call off the magic?"
Her head shook. "Not while I'm under the sleeping curse. As long as I'm asleep the magic keeps going until this is over."
Her words struck him in the chest, robbing the air from his lungs. Of course. This had been Hades' plan all along. To force her to burn herself out. The cruelty of reliving memories was just a bonus.
“Why?” he asked, “just tell me why.”
She frowned, looking up at him. “I wouldn't leave you here. I can't.”
She was going to kill herself for him. He knew it even before she answered. She’d die down here and he didn’t know how to stop her.
“You have to go back Emma. You need to figure out a way to call off this spell and you have to go home.”
“I can do this. Killian please-” her voice broke and Killian felt his resolve crumble. “Do you trust me?” she asked after a moment
He smiled even as his heart split in half. “With my life.”
Her answering smile could have lit the entire night sky. “Ok then. See this through with me. We can do this. Together.”
He wanted to say no. He needed to make her see. Did she even know? Couldn't she feel how much this spell was taking from her? But when she looked at him, when her chin raised and a light started to ignite behind her steady gaze, he knew he couldn’t stop her. Not yet, not now. But soon. Somehow, he would figure out a way to save her from herself.
As if caught in her current, he nodded at her mutely, and another door sprang into being beside them, swinging open and inviting them in. She took his hand again.
“It’ll be ok,” she said, a promise he knew she couldn’t keep.
When she stepped through he followed her, powerless to do anything but let himself fall down after her.
***
Emma was tired. And pissed. And sore. And so filled with guilt it nearly choked the life out of her. She’d lied to him. Again. He probably wouldn’t forgive her this time.
She’d live with it. Somehow, even if he walked away from her after this, if she managed to save him? It would be worth it.
They were falling again, she was holding his hand as the magic flowed around them. What he said earlier stuck with her. Hades was playing them. He wanted to drain her and let her die inside the sleeping curse. She realized that much. She needed to figure out a way to move this along. They needed a way out, and fast.
She tried to think, tried to feel for the edges of the magic. It was her spell damn it. If anyone knew a way out it would be her. But how-
She was thrown, full force into another memory before she had a chance to finish her thought.
In this one, Killian was back on the Jolly, in the captain’s quarters. A man with dark blonde curls stood behind the desk, his grin infectious. Emma felt the rush of love and relief at the sight of the man’s face. Liam. This must be Liam. She should’ve known from the smile. It was almost a twin to Killian’s.
“What now brother?” Killian asked.
“We reveal our king’s cowardice,” Liam announced, marching around the desk, grabbing his jacket.
Emma felt Killian's trust, his complete and total belief in his brother’s ability, and her heart hurt horribly.
They kept talking, making plans and speaking about the future. Overhead someone called to brace for landing and the ship shook beneath their feet. They grinned at each other and Killian moved to the window, glancing out at the waves, a sense of new found purpose lighting inside him. They were going to expose the king, become heroes. No one else had to die because of his treachery.
“What do you say Liam? Want some company when you report to the admiralty?” Killian grinned as he turned to Liam. Liam who was doubled over in pain. Liam whose face was turning ashen and grey.
Killian ran to him, grabbing for his brother, trying to pull him up. “No! Liam! Liam please!” he was begging, pleading to anyone who would listen for help
In his arms Liam gurgled, thin veins of inky black creeping across his face like curling spider limbs. Emma held on as Killian’s panic and grief crashed into her all at once, watching the life drain from his brother’s face. Killian’s voice sounded so tragically young when he begged for help, it nearly pulled her under.
How could one person bear it? she thought again. All this loss. How did he keep moving forward, carrying it all?
She wondered how much more there would be. Who else had he lost? What else had he sacrificed and bartered away? How much more would Hades force her to witness?
None of this was new to her. None of these memories revealed “the man Killian Jones really was.” She already knew damn well who he was, and her heart broke for him. For who he had been and who he was now.
She was done. This was over. This pointless test was ending. Now.
She flared out her power in her mind. She could feel the borders of the spell that trapped them, felt the solid walls of it. She imagined herself reaching out both hands and pushed. Hard.
She felt the bars of her cage start to give and pushed again, harder this time, imagining herself balling her hands into fists and slamming them against the wall again and again. Cracks started to form. The memory she was in faded away, Liam's body and Killian's mind floating back into the past where they belonged. Here, in the present, Emma Swan wrapped herself in her power like armour and pictured the face of the man she loved.
And punched her fist straight through the spell, shattering it.
***
Killian let the memory pull him where it wanted. He hoped it would be over quickly. He still needed to figure out a way to save Emma from herself. The answer, of course, came to him almost instantly. There was one way to show Emma the man he was. The man he hid from her. He had to show her the truth of his past. She would be horrified, she would leave and it would break whatever was left of the heart she had put back together. But she would be safe. She would go back to her life and she would love again. She would move on.
The thought of it. Of Emma Swan moving on without him, of her loving someone new almost destroyed him. But he knew deep in his bones that he would tear himself apart for her happiness. He had done it before and would do it again.
The memory formed around him as his decision was made. He glanced around. Emma stood alone in a dark back alley. Nervous excitement, and youthful joy crowded her mind. She was happy, so dizzyingly happy it made her head spin.
She was looking at a gold wrist watch, two sizes too big on her wrist and frowned, nerves started to edge their way into her excitement. She reached into her pocket and grabbed her phone. Baelfire- No, Neal’s face, filled her mind. He was late. He was supposed to be there and he was late.
She dialed the phone and held it to her ear, frowning when the automated voice told her the number had been disconnected. The hell? Had he forgotten to pay the damn phone bill again?
“Damn right there’s an error,” she muttered, starting to dial again.
“Unless he set you up,” a loud voice called from behind her.
She turned and froze at the sight of the gun pointed at her. Icy, numb panic flooded through her, made her heart stop. When the cop told her to put her hands on her head she obeyed robotically, not understanding. Neal? Where was Neal?
The cop was talking but Emma could barely hear him over the rush in her ears. He was full of shit, she was thinking. He didn’t have anything on her, and she told him as much.
“Possession of stolen goods,” he said, gesturing to the watch with the butt of his gun. “Your boy set you up.”
Emma could only stare. Neal . she thought. Just Neal , over and over.
“He called in a tip, told us to take a look at the surveillance footage at the train station.”
The words hit her like a physical blow. He’d betrayed her. She’d loved him, gave him everything she had, and he’d betrayed her. Cold, aching misery filled her head. Killian felt it, letting it wash over him. She was alone again and all he could do was watch.
When the cop turned her, snapped the cuffs of her wrists, a numb fury filled her, clouded her mind and settled deep in her bones until walls made of steel formed around her heart. Never again. She would never let herself believe in love. Love made you stupid. It used you up and softened you until you were helpless. Never again.
Killian let the memories move around him, too tired to fight them. So much hurt filled his head, both his and hers, like old scar tissue, hard and calloused. Had love ever come into her life without strings? Without hurt? The unfairness of it made his blood boil.
When the memory finally stilled, she was in a police station. The officer across from her asked her her age. In a quiet, barely there voice she answered; “Seventeen.”
“Got a kid your age,” the cop said flatly and Emma didn’t know how to respond.
Killian tried to focus on the memory, but everything felt blurry. Time seemed to move too fast and too slow all at once, sliding around him.
“Killian.”
Inside Emma's mind, he froze. The memory around him came to a grinding halt, nothing moving.
“Killian, we need to go.”
He turned, no longer in Emma's head, but in his own body, sitting inside her frozen memory. Emma, his Emma, stood in front of him, her hand extended.
“C’mon,” she said, “This way, we need to go before Hades finds us.”
He was on his feet, hand in hers and moving before he could ask any questions. She led him to a door with an exit sign above it and pushed through. Instead of the back street he’d been expecting, Granny’s dinner sat before him.
“Emma what-?"
“Just keep moving,” she snapped, breaking into a run.
They ran together through another door, this one leading them to Mary Margret and David’s loft. He tried to make sense of what he was seeing but Emma was pulling him forward still. They headed through another door into the cabin of the Jolly Roger. Then through another into their bed chambers from Camelot. She led him through door after door, all places he recognized, places they had shared together, until finally they crashed through back into the middlemist field.
It was exactly the same as the field they had started in, only it was night time now. They were dressed as they had been in Camelot, she in her white gown and him in his black coat.
She gasped when they came to a halt, stumbling and nearly falling. He caught her, cradling her head as he brought them both to the grass.
“Emma!” her eyes were closed, her breathing ragged. “Emma, what did you do?”
“Bought-” she took a shaking breath. “Bought us more time.”
She was still for a moment before opening her eyes. “You were right, Hades is toying with us and I'm tired of it.”
She moved to sit up and Killian saw her arms were trembling even as her shoulders straightened and her jaw set with determination.
“I’m done screwing around. We’re going to finish his stupid test, and then we’re going home.”
“Emma,” he dropped his forehead against hers. Cold sweat dampened her skin. “Emma, this has to end. You can’t keep going like this.”
He felt her nod. “Agreed. That’s why we’re only going to important memories, ones that-”
“No more bloody memories!” he bellowed, whipping his head up and gripping her shoulder. “This ends now. Call hades, call whoever. But tell them it’s over before you kill yourself.”
“No.”
Her one word answer made his teeth grit, fear and anger nearly blinding him. “I won’t sit here and let you die for me Emma.”
She was still for a moment, studying him. “You’ve already died for me three times, Killian. I'm not stopping.”
He reared back as if she’d hit him. “So what? This is payback? Retribution? I die so you have to as well?”
“No!" the colour was back in her face now, her eyes alive and burning. “No this is me doing what I have to to save the man I love. And I will.”
He shook his head, raising to his feet. “No. Emma, no. I'm not worth this. I'm not worth losing your life over.”
She stood, the fine tremor in her limbs gone now, a halo of light magic behind her. “I’m the one who gets to decide that. Killian-” she broke off, then tried again. “Killian, I'm sorry I didn't tell you the whole truth. I should have and I'm sorry. But I am telling you now. I'm seeing this through. Because you’re worth it.”
“Enough!” his shout echoed across the field, shook the grass around their feet. “You want to see what kind of man you’re trying to save? The man you want to die for? Here.”
He thought of it, the worst things he had ever done, every unspeakable act he had ever committed and formed them into one solid, writhing mass in his mind. Inside the heart of the memory spell, the magic grabbed hold of him, greedily drinking in his shame. A door sprang into life between them.
“Here, walk through here and see.”
She looked at him. One long, horrible silent moment passed as time held its breath. Then, she turned, opened the door and walked through.
***
There was no tunnel of light, no waiting, no falling. The memories started all at once. Killian with a sword in his hand, laughing, blood spraying on his face as he drove the blade through another man. Killian, with his hand wrapped around an insubordinate crew member's throat. The man was begging for mercy but Killian only squeezed tighter, his rage cold and unforgiving. Another man on his knees, pleading with Killian, telling him of the family who needed him, before Killian ran him through.
The memories felt sharp, pointed. They bit into her skin and tore at her, shredding her clothes and ripping her hair. All of it ruthless, unforgiving. At the heart of them, Killian stood with his heart completely black and hardened, a vicious grin on his face. The deadliest pirate of the seas. Revenge and blood and pain all muddied together in a blinding red haze around her.
He wore rings on his fingers, of the men he killed. He remembered all of their faces. In the darkness of his cabin he tortured himself with their memories. Of the feeling of ending their lives. He'd felt nothing while he did it, and yet in the quiet of his own mind he sliced himself open again and again at the sight of the rings.
A bastard. A miserable, cruel bastard. He loved it. And he hated it.
Emma sat in the corners of his mind and watched as the centuries moved in a blur. The heart inside Killian's chest turned hard as stone. Slowly, the killings grew less vicious. They became methodical. Practiced.
Faces blurred past, cursing him, and he welcomed it. He was cursed.
Every part of him grew colder, harder, crueler. He no longer felt any sense of justice from the death around him. He felt nothing, only a bleak, yawning emptiness that he let fester and rot until there was nothing of him left. A living corpse that bayed to the sky for revenge. A man made of decay.
***
In the field, cradling her body, Killian waited for Emma to awaken. When her eyes slowly fluttered, he braced himself, waiting for the hatred in her eyes, the revulsion. She blinked and stared up at him for a long moment. Then the most horrifically beautiful sight passed through her eyes; forgiveness.
“Killian,” she murmured, her hand reaching up to brush the hair from his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
He found it hard to breathe. A lump had formed in his chest, growing hard and sharp.
Emma pushed herself up and wrapped her arms around him. “It's ok,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.
He pulled away from her and just stared. “No. Emma no-you can’t-”
“Just shut up,” she said, her eyes closing as she rose to her feet. He followed her, his arms ready to catch her. She sounded so tired and it terrified him.
“Was that it? Was that supposed to prove something to me?” her eyes opened and the green depths were so clear and understanding it completely shattered him. “It was a good try, pretty rough stuff. But Killian? Did you think I didn't know about your past?”
“I-”
“I know who you are. I know who you were then and I know who you are now.”
“Emma please, don’t do this.”
“I love you Killian. I love the man you are right now. And that’s the man I'm going to save.”
Laughter formed in his chest, rough and malformed, it thrust out of his throat in a harsh burst.
“You can’t Emma, it’s too late, don’t you see that? Please. You need to let me go,” he looked down at the field of flowers beneath their feet then back up at her. In her white gown, lit by moonlight, she seemed to glow. “This is where it should have ended the first time love. Where it was always meant to end. Please just listen to me. You can’t stay here and die for me. I’m telling you now, I’m not worth your salvation. I’m not worth your life.”
She shook her head in short, frustrated jerks. “And I’m telling you, that you’re wrong.” Her hands lifted, framing his face. Hot, angry tears forming in her eyes, shining like burning stars. “I’m not offering you salvation Killian. You already earned that all on your own. I’m offering you a life, a home. With me.”
He smiled, trying to trace every line of her face, trying to memorize the curve of her cheek and the way her eyes lit with emerald flames. He wanted to burn her memory into his mind, how she looked at this exact moment, full of righteous purpose. His Swan.
“I know you love me Emma. And I know you feel you need to save me. But you can’t. Whatever misplaced guilt that’s keeping you here, please just forget about it. It’s alright,” his hand reached up to touch the ends of her hair, running the strands of them through his fingertips. “It will be alright.”
“Is that what you think?” she jerked free of his hold, took a step back. Whatever exhaustion had clouded her expression before was burned away, replaced with something hot and furious. “That I came all the way down here, let myself get cursed, put myself through all this, because I feel guilty?”
“Emma-”
“Well guess what? I do! I do feel guilty. I got you killed in Camelot and then I brought you back and cursed us all. And you know what? I'd do it again. I’d do this a hundred times over and then a hundred more times because when it comes to you Killian Jones? I'm selfish. Because. You. Are. Mine.”
She punctuated each word in short, clipped bursts that hit him like cannon fire to the chest.
“You’re mine,” she repeated, taking a step towards him, invading his space. “And I’m yours. And I'm not leaving you down here. I'm not leaving you with Hades. Because I love you. I love you so much and I'm bringing you home. We. Are going. Home.”
She was swaying, magic seemed to frame her like a halo. He couldn’t look away. “You told me, back in Storybrooke when I was the dark one, that it didn’t matter what I had done, that you still loved me. Well guess what? It's a two way street. Whatever you’ve done Killian? It doesn’t matter. I love you. I love you as the man you are now. The man who did those things and who still changed. They’re a part of you. And I love every single part.”
Her eyes were burning. He stared at them, transfixed. She had always been like golden sunlight to him. Now she was like a supernova, lighting him on fire.
“We are going to get through this together. And then you’re going to kiss me, break this stupid sleeping curse, and we’re going to go home.”
She sounded so certain, he didn’t know what to say. His mouth moved to speak, but nothing seemed to come out. What could he even say? That this wouldn’t work? That if he was right then this whole endeavor was doomed? That while they loved each other, it might not be true love?
“What?” she asked, searching his face. Slowly, a dawning look of realization came over her face. “You don’t think it will work. The kiss.”
“It isn’t just that, Emma-” he swallowed around a lump in throat. “Emma I love you, and I know you love me. But true love is the rarest magic there is. What if we’re wrong?”
“We’re not. I know it. I know what we have, I know it’s true love.”
Her confidence crashed over him like a wave. He wanted to drown in it. He wanted her belief, needed it so badly at that moment. But he just couldn’t.
“You still don’t believe me,” she said, studying him. “Ok then. Here. I’ll show you”
He saw her raise her hand, and dread filled him, knowing what she was about to do. Calling another door now would drain what was left of her magic and probably kill her.
“Emma don't! You can’t-”
Her hand flicked once, a surge of power snaking out like a ribbon of smoke, forming another door. She stood for a beat, then staggered. He cursed as he caught her, his arm circling her as her legs gave out and she fell into him.
“There,” her voice was barely audible as she jerked her chin toward the newly formed door. “Let's go. You’ll see what I mean.”
Annoyance, terror, and misery surged through him all at once. Her face was too pale, her fingertips cold where they touched his arm. They didn’t have time for this. But as he looked into her face, saw the determination in her eyes even under half closed lids, he knew. There was only one way forward.
“When this is over,” he said carefully, bending down to pick her up even as she huffed a protest. “If by some miracle we make it out, you’re going to bed for two weeks. I'm locking the door and throwing the phones away. Understood?”
She grumbled even as her head lolled against his chest. “If we get out of this, I'm sleeping for a month.” she muttered.
“Deal.”
Her face brightened with the ghost of a smile as the door opened and he carried her across.
***
The memories started so gently, inviting him now, rather than dragging him. Inside them, he could feel Emma beside him, her presence like a steady heartbeat, guiding him. He held onto her, felt her grip him back, and let them both fall into the past together.
They were alone, in his cabin below the deck of the Jolly. He was stretched out beside her, asleep on the too small bunk. Through Emma’s eyes, he watched her reach out and brush the fringe of his hair away from his face. Love, a constant, drumming, beating force inside her heart, bloomed up and spilled over her. In the privacy of his room, where no one could see, she let the tears sneak into the corners of her eyes. She hadn’t known it could feel like this. That love could be simple sometimes, that it could be peaceful. Killian made loving him so easy that it had almost blindsided her a few weeks ago when she realized what she had been feeling. She loved him. Of course she loved him.
There were times it nearly overwhelmed her. Even thoughts of him were enough to have the feeling flood though her, washing her in the blinding glow of it. She hadn’t felt love like this, not once in her life. She’d thought she had, thought she knew everything love had to offer and decided it wasn’t worth the hassle. But god. For Killian? She would do anything, give anything for this feeling. She would have loved him for free. She didn’t know how not to.
In the memory, past-Killian’s eyes fluttered. He groaned something in his sleep, turning to her, reaching for her. He was always doing that. She wondered if he knew. She moved her head to rest it on his chest, felt the steady beat of his heart and grounded herself with it. And when she drifted off to sleep, she couldn’t help the smile that grew on her lips.
The memory blurred, winding around them. Killian felt helpless to stop it. They were at Granny’s, sitting together at a booth. He was making her laugh about something, his thumb tracing circles on her palm. The bright glow of her love for him was like a banking fire, strong and steady. When he turned to look at her, when she saw in his eyes the love he felt for her like an answer to her own, it took her breath away, the love inside her chest growing into an inferno. She knew he loved her. She could feel it in every moment he spent with her. Killian Jones loved her so much it practically shone out from him and bathed her in the warmth of it.
It scared her at times, being loved so strongly. She wasn’t sure anyone had ever loved her this much. She didn’t think anyone ever would again.
More memories formed, all blurring over one another. They were in the car, Killian had brought her coffee and remembered to include extra sugar packets. She’d kissed him like they were teenagers making out in the backseat. Then they were at the station together, going through paperwork. Emma had shivered and Killian had thrown his coat over her shoulders without looking up, the act almost second nature to him. She thought her heart might have burst open in that moment.
Killian wanted to stay in these moments, wanted to live in them as long as he could. But they were moving him, gently guiding him, and he let himself be pulled along.
They were on her bed in the loft. She was on top of him, dizzy, joyful relief making her giddy. He was alive. She had watched him die in another realm and here he was. Alive.
She loved him so much at that moment and it nearly paralyzed her. She had almost lost him without telling him, almost lost her chance to say it out loud, to make it real. And the idea of that terrified her even more. She should say it, now while they were alone, while they had this time. In his eyes she could see he knew, he knew the words she wanted to say, could feel his anticipation.
He loved her, but he hadn’t told her. He hadn’t needed to of course, she already knew. But still he had held off, waiting for her to make the first move. He knew her better than anyone else, and he knew she would run if he moved too fast. So he waited for her. He was waiting now.
The words were there, ready, waiting to come out. And she couldn’t say them.
If she told him, it would become something else. It would be out there, in the open, for anyone else to see. In this moment, her love, this perfect, precious feeling, was only theirs. It belonged to only them. And she wanted to protect it, keep it safe. At least for a little while longer.
She would tell him. Soon. She would sit him down and tell him the words and make everything real. But for now? For now all she wanted to do was hold him. To feel the weight and the warmth of him beneath her. To sit in the feeling of his unspoken love for her, just a minute more.
Killian’s heart clenched, hard. Inside the frozen moment he felt Emma, his Emma, press a kiss to his face. Sorry, she thought, and he heard it inside his head. I’m sorry Killian.
There was nothing for her to be sorry about. She loved him. He adored every bloody inch of her and in return? She loved him back so fiercely he was nearly blown down from the force of it.
He tried to imagine himself holding her, pulling her close. Was there more? More quiet memories like this? Full of love and endless happiness? He thought he’d like to see them.
But slowly, the memories started to fade, the colours running, the sound quieting. All around them, the light dimmed, and the magic ended.
***
Emma, he thought. Emma.
She had been right all along. It was true love. How could it not be? How could this feeling be anything less than true love? He woke in the field, his heart full, turning to reach out for her.
She lay in the grass beside him, unmoving.
For one awful, terrible second, Killian could only stare. Her face was too white, the skin of her eyelids a pale purple, her lips blue. She wasn’t breathing.
“No.” The word came out as a whisper. “Emma no.”
He moved mechanically, his arms jerky, his breathing shallow. No she couldn’t be. He had just been with her, in the memory. She’d been alive and had kissed him, she was-
Her whispered words came to him, unbidden. I’m sorry Killian. What had she been apologizing for?
“No.” He repeated the word. “No, no, NO, NO!”
He touched her cheek and nearly flinched back. Her skin was frozen. Terror built up in him in a frenzy, a dull whine building in his head. She couldn’t be. She couldn’t.
He pulled her to him, his movements gentle, like she might shatter in his hold. Her head lolled to the side, her arms heavy and dragging, a dead weight at her sides. Something primal beat through his veins, a screaming, gnawing terror that bordered on hysteria. She was not dead. They had not done all this, come this far, for her to die.
He pressed his ear to her chest and nearly sobbed when he heard a heartbeat. It was sluggish, but it was there.
“Emma please, you need to wake up.” He cupped her face, rubbing his thumb across the icy chill of her skin, trying to press some colour into it. “I need you to wake up. Please-” his last word broke on a strangled plea, tears filling his vision.
A crack of magic snaked through the air and a door exploded into life several feet away from him. Hades burst through, his face a mask of pure rage.
“You little-” he hissed. He came to a halt at the edge of the field, his snarl freezing at the sight of Emma in Killian’s arms.
“Well now. Isn’t this something?” A cruel, vicious grin split his face. “This looks almost familiar doesn’t it? Killian Jones, holding the body of the woman he couldn’t save.”
His words bounced off Killian, unheard. He was too deep inside his own churning panic. She was fading, every second they spent here, she was slipping away. There was only one thing left he could think to do.
“Emma,” he murmured, brushing the hair from her face. “If you can hear me, please. Come back to me.”
He cupped her face and lifted it gently. From behind him he heard Hades shout.
“NO! DON’T YOU DARE-”
Killian pressed his lips to Emma’s.
And the world exploded.
***
Emma had seen true love magic before. She’d felt it herself when Henry had nearly died in her arms. The raw power of it had taken her breath away. But it was a different feeling altogether to be the one receiving it. To be kissed by her true love. It felt like coming home. It felt like love. It felt like everything.
Every moment together, every lingering thought, every second she had loved and been loved by Killian Jones crystallized into one perfect, all consuming force of magic that flowed all at once into her body. It ran down her boneless arms, flowing into struggling lungs, and filled her with a warmth and a light so full and strong it felt like being lit from within. And when she started to wake, when the sleeping curse snapped apart and her eyes flew open, she swore she could taste rum and sea salt in the air.
Killian’s face floated in the space above her, his wide eyes shining as his mouth hung open in an expression Emma could only describe as awe.
“Told you,” she said with a smile, her tired eyes still half drooping. “True love’s kiss. Works every time.”
He let out a watery laugh, dropping his forehead to hers. “Aye that you did. Should have known you’d be right.”
She hummed a weary sound of pleasure, even as her exhausted body throbbed like a bad toothache. Her fingers moved up to thread their way through his hair. “Wanna see if we can do it again?”
His breath fanned across her cheek as he huffed out a laugh. “May have delay that love. First,” he glanced up. “I believe we should figure out where exactly we are.”
Emma frowned as things slowly started to come back into focus. White, glowing light seemed to surround them from everywhere, and when she tried to slowly pull herself up, the floor beneath her felt smooth and warm to the touch.
“Your guess is as good as mine,” she said as she looked around. It almost resembled a hallway. The widest and most expensive hallway she’d ever been in. It had golden marble floors and walls, and impossibly tall, carved column pillars that held up a domed ceiling. It rose so high above them that they had to crane their heads all the way back to see it.
“Another memory?” she asked him.
“Not one of mine.”
“Well it’s not mine, I think I would’ve remembered this place.” she said, trying to squint up at the airy, arched ceiling.
“If you’re both done laying around,” a voice called from behind them. “The way out is over there.”
Emma nearly jumped as Killian's arms tightened around her, both of them quickly turning to look at the woman seated at the far end of the hall who hadn’t been there a moment ago. She sat, half sprawled on a stone bench draped with spotted furs, a massive bow between her bent knees that she was trying to restring. Her copper skin seemed to glow faintly as she pulled the string taught and glanced up at them, clearly annoyed. Emma tried not to tense when she noticed the intense yellow of her eyes, or the way her pupil seemed to lock onto them like a hawk.
“Well?” she asked again, jerking her chin towards the other end of the hall. “Go on, you can’t stay here forever.”
“Ah, where exactly?” Emma stuttered as Killian helped her to her feet.
The strange woman with the bird eyes waved her hand, dismissing them. “Just ask one of the others, I'm busy here.”
“One of the others…?” Killian murmured, trailing off as they both turned.
Dozens of bodies suddenly moved around them, all of them with deep skin that held the same faint glow as the woman, and all draped in loose, airy fabrics cinched at the waists. Some slowed to stare at them, their smiles warm but puzzled. Others ignored them completely, pushing past with somewhere else to be.
“So I guess we just,” Emma gestured forward. “Find the exit.”
“It would appear that way,” Killian said with a frown as his hand found hers, pulling her closer.
“Are they..? I mean do you think we’re in-?”
“I don't think it would be wise to ask that question,” Killian said in a hushed tone, keeping his eyes lowered. “I have a distinct impression that we aren't allowed to stay here very long.”
Emma tried not to stare as they moved past the impossibly beautiful masses, even when she felt the force of their power brushing against her senses. The sudden, overwhelming urge to not draw attention to themselves, took over her, and she tried to shrink.
“Up there,” she whispered to Killian as she pointed to a spot where the hallway opened up and forked off in two different directions. “Let’s just pick one and hope the way out is somewhere along there.”
He nodded, gripping her hand tighter. As they got closer, they veered left, away from the crowd of people, and down another hallway. This was once smaller than the first, and quieter, but still managed to tower over them.
“If we get lost here…” Emma said after a moment.
“Let’s hope very hard it doesn’t come to that.” Killian said tightly, pulling her through an arched passageway. “I imagine this isn’t a place they allow you to overstay your welcome.”
They moved into a massive room, the floor curving down towards an enormous raised platform that held a throne made of pulsing, molten gold. On it, a bearded man, nearly three times their size, towered over them. His fingers drummed against the arms of the chair, sending sparks of lightning shooting and dissipating into the air.
“Welcome heroes,” he said, his voice echoing and deep. “I was wondering when you would arrive.”
Killian and Emma stood frozen, awestruck. His eyes were a burning gold and so bright they felt hot on her face. Emma's own eyes watered with the effort of looking directly at them. He smiled at them, his teeth blinding white against the dark bronze of his glowing skin.
“You have faced your trial with great bravery I see.”
“I-ah thank you. We appreciate that,” she murmured, at a loss for what else to say. “Are you-? I mean is this-?”
He leaned forward, his attention on them scalding, like the heat of the sun beating down on them. Emma nearly felt herself take a step back, but stopped when Killian’s arm curved around her waist, holding her up.
“What Emma means is,” Killian glanced at her, his smile tight, his eyes slightly too wide. “What might we call you?”
The man reached a massive hand up, his fingers stroking the thick, dark curls around his chin. “I have many names, given to me by many people. Although, I believe the one you may know me as, is Zeus.”
“Oh.” Emma said in a whisper, unable to stop herself. Zeus. Of course. He was certainly… bigger than the other gods they’d seen.
“I’ve been watching you two as you embarked on my brother’s trials. That was quite the clever loophole to his test, little Swan,” he said, inclining his head towards her.
“Your brother?” she blinked, glancing at the crackling electricity arcing across his knuckles, then back at his sun lit face. “I can uh- see the resemblance.”
His laughter was a boom of sound that made Emma’s ears ring.
“Hades spends too long below ground,” Zeus said. “I keep telling him he should get out more, put some life back into his cheeks.”
Emma smiled and nodded, suddenly wondering if she was still caught in the dream realm. Was this really happening? Was she making small talk with the king of the literal gods? Beside her, she could feel how tense Killian stood, every line of his body pulled tight.
“You look distressed Killan Jones,” Zeus said. “I would think meeting a god would not affect you so, having met two of my brothers so far.”
Two? When the hell had he met another one? If they made it out of this without being melted into puddles, she would have to ask him about that.
“It’s not that,” Killian said, his voice deceptively calm, a charming smile on his face. “I just worry about overstaying our welcome here, as honoured as we are to be here.”
Zeus leaned back on his throne. He was enjoying this. For the time being at least.
“You two have fought well today. True heroes, both of you are welcome in my halls.”
“Thank you, that is a great honour indeed,” Killian said, his voice growing slightly sharp.
Emma could feel panic start to rise in her. They could stay here forever if they weren’t careful, talking in circles with a god who seemed in no hurry to let them leave.
“Is that why we’re here? Because we passed the trial?” she looked at Killian, held his gaze. “Did we win?”
“Well that depends,” Zeus said, his voice like heavy stones rolling down a mountain.
“Depends on what?” she asked cautiously, her tone holding none of the tremors she felt in her limbs.
“Depends on you, hero born of love and magic. Do you believe you have passed the trial? Do you believe you know now what kind of man Killian Jones really is?”
Emma felt like time held its breath. This was it. This was the sort of thing they wrote legends about wasn’t it? Trials set by the literal gods to test heroes? Everything that happened now rested on her shoulders. No pressure.
“Like I already told Hades earlier, there wasn’t any need for a test,” she said after a beat. “I already know what kind of man he is. And I was right.”
She turned to look at him and saw he was already facing her, his face filled with love and awe at the sight of her. “Well it’s true,” she said, low enough that only he could hear.
Zeus's laugh was booming. Emma tried not to wince as her ears throbbed. She glanced back at the king of the gods, her eyes going about as high as they dared without looking directly into his molten stare, and landing somewhere on his chin.
“WELL SPOKEN LITTLE SWAN!”
Emma swore her knees almost buckled beneath his praise, but still managed to nod her thanks
“I bear witness to you both. Emma Swan;” his enormous hand swept towards her. “Saviour of magic and of her people. And you Killian Jones; Hero of the Saviour.”
Emma thought she heard all the air shoot out of Killian at once, the title landing squarely on his shoulders and nearly taking him out at the knees. She gave his hand a reassuring pat. It was a good name. She would remember that.
“Thank you Zeus,” she said finally, nodding her head to him. “We’re ah- We’re both honoured.”
Killian stood still beside her, and she turned to look at him. As if drawn by her attention, he turned away from the king of gods, and leaned into her. His arms rose, circling her waist, pulling her closer.
“I will tell my brother the trial is over; you’ve both passed.” Emma could hear the grin in his voice. “I’m sure Hades will be most pleased.”
Emma doubted that. She just hoped they were both far the hell away when he heard the news.
“Are we…I mean. Are we free to go?” she looked up at him, trying not to squint as she met his stare, even when tears started to form in her eyes. “Can we go home now?”
Zeus smiled and it was like watching the sun rising between mountain peaks, the light of it so brilliant and overpowering it left spots in her vision.
“Of course,” he murmured. Behind him, a passageway opened, forming between the towering columns. White, brilliant light spilled from it, as warm and welcoming as a homecoming. “You have my blessing. Well met heroes.”
They both nodded, moving towards the door with the warmth of his stare on their backs. When they walked to the passage, hands held, Killian turned to her, his face shining. “You did it Swan.”
She gripped him, pulling him to her. “We did it. Now,” she smiled, a heavy mass buried deep in her chest finally releasing its grip on her and falling away. “Let’s go home.”
As they stepped into the light together and the magic curled around them, their heads tilted together, their lips meeting. A bright light, shining and radiant, erupted from inside them. The power of it shimmered, colour and magic spiraling together like jeweled starlight, holding a world of promise and the faint scent of middlemist blooms.
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Writer's Month Day 6: Surf
Fandom: Carmen Sandiego
Rating: G
Summary: In my Day 5 entry I mentioned Gray teaching Carmen/Black Sheep how to body surf. Basically, this is that.
+++
“Okay, here comes a good one!”
Gray grinned down at Black Sheep as he looked over his shoulder. “You ready?”
“Oh yeah!” Black Sheep returned his grin with her own do-or-die one, digging her toes into the sand so she didn’t start bouncing excitedly on the balls of her feet (conducive to absolutely nothing except looking like a kid, which she officially wasn’t since enrolling a couple months ago).
“Alright,” Gray turned back around to face the beach, leaning forward like a runner about to start a race. Black Sheep copied his stance. “Remember what we’ve practiced?”
“Yup!” She faced the beach, steel in her eyes as she mentally ran down the list of steps Gray and her had been practicing for the last couple hours. Arms out in front, body rigid, feet pointed, head down. “Ready.”
“Good, cause here it comes…”
The current around Black Sheep's waist started to pick up, the water rushing faster as the building roar of a wave prowled up behind her like a wild thing readying to pounce.
“GO!”
At Gray’s starting whistle of a shout, Black Sheep pushed off the sandy floor. She snapped her body stiff, putting all Cleo’s lessons on posture and poise to use as her spine went ramrod and her feet followed suit, toes in those ever-perfect points a lady was supposed to have mastered. Carefully, she maneuvered one arm behind like some Superman characters she was apparently supposed to know about (like heck she was going to ask and look ignorant), using it to steer, just like Gray had shown her back on the sand and in the shallower, calmer, tamer waves closer to shore.
The beast of a wave surged around her, foam ruffling through her hair, and a thrill coursed through her veins as she felt its power swell beneath her, rising, arcing, cresting-
If it weren’t for the foam rushing around Black Sheep's face, she’d be laughing her triumph out for all the Island to hear.
Because the wave was no longer a wild beast rushing behind, seeking to subdue the meek sheep that was its prey; the tide had turned and now she was its master, riding it like it was a docile thing whose sole existence was to heed her command. A precursor of sort of things to come, for this, she just knew, was what the world would become once she graduated and stepped with head high into the glorious, adventurous, unmatched life of a professional thief, herself the undisputed exemplar of that elite breed.
“Right on, Black Sheep!” Gray’s voice came from somewhere next to her, and she could just make out, under the roaring wave, the cheers of Antonio and Jean-Paul from the shore, evidentially having taken pause in the former burying the latter to celebrate her victory over nature. She grinned into the foam, on top of the world.
But the wave was still The Wave, and even the most docile, tractable mount may buck its rider. Gaining speed as it rushed towards the beach, the water tugged, heedless of her Superman arms on its reins, jerking her sharply to the right.
“Pull back, Black Sheep!" Gray shouted, a note of panic in his voice. "Pull back!”
She thrust her shoulder back, trying to break out behind the wave and free herself from its headlong charge towards land, but, well, she hadn’t quite gotten the hang of that part yet. She was a prisoner of The Wave, helpless to break away to save herself, so when it, in the throes of a vicious rampage, plunged towards the sand-
“WOAH!”
"AAAAAUUUUGGGGHHHHH!!!”
*CRASH!*
-it left behind a scene that set the grains of sand laughing riotously as it, with feigned innocence, retreated: one dripping and disheveled Black Sheep, lying dazedly atop one newly-soaked Sheena, face rapidly turning red from something other than the sun.
“You okay, Black Sheep?” Gray asked, jogging out of the water, eyes concerned but with the beginnings of a grin waiting at the corners of his lips.
“HER?!?” Sheena fumed, extricating herself from the thumbs-upping tangle of immature. “She nearly cracked my ribs!!!” (ooh, that little punk was probably conspiring to get her benched until after exams, that’s probably what).
“Well, I mean,” Gray shrugged helplessly, the grin wending itself across its face, having been given license by way of Black Sheep’s own laughing one. “I *did* warn you that sunbathing was dangerous.” (never mind he was thinking of sunburns rather than flying sheep, but, well, danger was danger, right?)
“OOH!” With that, the picture of indignance that was Sheena, proving that excess sun was not necessary in the slightest to turn her red as Hell, snatched up her useless towel and stomped back up the beach towards the tree line, kicking an irate sand spray towards the helplessly guffawing Antonio and Jean-Paul, both of whom were unaffected by the cutting remark that joined it.
“Crikey!” Gray gasped out presently, straightening up from where he’d been doubled over at Sheena’s exit. “That was some wipe out! Got Sheena awfully steamed.”
“Eh,” Black Sheep waved a dismissive hand in Sheena’s direction, sultry air simmering hotter in her wake, and cocked a grin. “That close to the water? She was asking for it.” (and she was, so she was blameless here).
“Not bad surfing either.” Gray winked, holding up a hand for a hive-five Black Sheep eagerly granted. “Want to go again?”
Seriously?
Black Sheep tossed him a smirk over her shoulder, a shove in his ribs for the stupidly obvious question, and sprinted towards the breakers, laughing as he raced to catch up to her. As if he had to ask. Because body surfing that wave, she’d felt on top of the world, and she couldn’t wait to feel that again!
****************🌊****************
Light burned through Carmen’s eyelids, causing her to stir and wake with a groan. The worn springs of the motel bed creaked their objections to early risers, and she looked dully around the room, the sun-drenched beach melting into the faded wallpaper and a tired-looking wardrobe and the drone of the air conditioner swallowing the echos of the pounding surf, her laughter as she rode the wave, and Gray’s beside her.
Only the salt spray on her cheeks remained.
#carmen sandiego fanfiction#carmen sandiego 2019#carmen sandiego#writersmonth#writersmonth2023#in which i write#my writing#cs fanfics#cs fics
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One thing i absolutely ADORE about captain swan is how open Emma becomes with Killian. Like you have this pirate that, for so long, only had the Jolly Roger and revenge to expect in his life, and when he meets Emma, is completely inthralled by her and is willing to show her that he will STAY. Not only that, he is determined too. And Emma, once she’s used to him being someone to rely on, comes to really be comfortable with him. And becomes a necessary part of her life. Then we have S5a with them in Camelot and they are just determined to hold onto each other while she’s experiencing the hardest times right now—
Anyway, all that to say that I completely adored them ever since me and my mom stumbled upon this crazy show and I miss them sm!
#they are literally the blueprint and I will never be the same again#i can talk more and more about them but i do NOT have the time#someone needs to give me cs fic recs asap!!#I’m also realizing that I don’t have any ouat besties which is a bummer#ouat#captain swan#emma swan#killian jones#once upon a time#cs#It’s just us you and me - PEOPLE DIED
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Cruel Summer | Javier Peña (Chapter One)
Javier Peña is back in Laredo, this time for good. He hadn't banked on you still being there, especially not with a wedding ring on your finger. A complicated shared history and plenty of unresolved feelings between the two of you should make for an interesting summer.
Pairing | Javier Peña x reader
Warnings | angst, fluff, swearing, alcohol consumption, eventual smut in future chapters, verbal and slight physical domestic abuse (Not from our boy Javi) but nothing else at this stage.
Word Count | 2.9K
Authors Note | So, Cruel Summer by T Swift has me in a chokehold right now and my boy Javi is getting the multi-chaptered fic he deserves from me. I wanted this to be different to what I've written before, there will be some tough reading but I want to challenge myself with this fic. Please let me know whether you like this - I've got a few chapters written and I can't wait to share them with you. Likes, reblogs, and messages in my ask box help keep me going so please do share your thoughts.
Bad Bad Boy,
Shiny Toy With A Price,
You Know That I Bought It.
The heat was stifling in Laredo. June had hit hard and no matter of the fact that you’d spent your whole life living here, you’d never quite got used to the summer heat. You could feel a bead of sweat pool at your collarbone as you leant over the sewing machine. Without looking up, you swiped the handkerchief sitting on the side of your worktable and dabbed at it, not wanting it to fall onto the material of Gabriela’s wedding dress that you were currently altering.
The tinkling of the shop door hitting the bell alerted you to someone in the front of the shop. Sighing that someone had broken the concentration you had been using to focus on the seams of the dress in front of you, you stood up and went to see who had come to visit.
“Hola Gabriela.”
Gabriela had been your friend since school. The two of you had been inseparable, even when she’d traded small town Laredo for the bright lights of Austin to get her degree, you’d visited every weekend. As much as you’d always wanted to get out of town yourself you knew no matter what happened you’d be back so you’d decided against signing away your parents life savings and decided to open up a small tailoring shop in town.
“Hola, querida niña,” She replied, “How are you doing today?”
“Ah, I’m fine,” You replied, “Apart from melting in the back of the shop altering your dress.”
“I still can’t thank you enough,” Gabriela gushed, holding a hand over the growing baby bump, “I still can’t quite believe I’m going to be one of those pregnant brides.”
You chuckled, reaching out a hand to squeeze her shoulder, “You’ll look beautiful regardless,” You reassured her, “You’re already glowing.”
“You’re too kind,” She replied, “Listen, I only came by to let you know a few of us are heading to the bar tonight if you wanted to join us?”
“Ahhh Gabriela, I’m not sure, I think Ethan probably wants me at home.”
She raised her eyebrows at you, “It was actually his idea, so no getting out of this one.”
You sighed but relented, agreeing to meet your friend at the bar once you’d closed up shop later that afternoon before giving her a hug and sending her on her way with a promise that she could come and try the altered dress on next week.
***
The bar was packed by the time you arrived from the shop. People had filed in throughout the afternoon to seek shelter from the stifling heat outside. With whiskey and beer running through their veins, many of them had failed to leave after lunchtime. Standing at the bar whilst you waited for the bartender to open your beer you scanned the room looking for your friends.
You’d found them huddled in a booth in the corner. The number of empty bottles that littered the table let you know they’d been drinking for some time. You hated it when Ethan drank too much. His short career as a college football star boosting his ego enough to make him quite possibly the most unlikeable person you’d ever met, even if you had married him.
“Can I get a whiskey as well please?” You asked the girl behind the bar once she placed the open bottle of beer in front of you.
She nodded and was back quickly with the whiskey which you shot in one, placing a couple of notes on the bar to cover the cost before reluctantly joining your friends in the corner.
“Baby!” Ethan exclaimed when he saw you, pulling you down by the arm to sit on his lap, “What took you so long?”
You took a long drag of your beer before answering, “Sorry, I was trying to get as much of Gabriela’s dress done as I could.”
In front of everyone he pushed the hair away from your neck and placed chaste kisses behind your ear and down your neck which caused a shiver to run down your spine and not in a pleasant way.
“Ethan please, not in front of everyone.” You chastised, standing from his lap to sit on the open chair opposite it, next to Gabriela.
You watched closely as he shot a glare your way but was soon distracted by Gabriela’s fiancé and the rest of his friends and moved on.
“You know, I heard some interesting new today.” Gabriela spoke into your ear so you could hear her over the music.
“Hmmm?” You mused, turning to look at her.
She paused, looking at the door of the bar, “Well, speak of the devil.”
Your eyes followed her line of sight at your breath hitched in your throat. Javier Peña. Javier fucking Peña, in the flesh, back in Laredo. You, like most people in town, hadn’t seen him in years. There had been a rumour he’d been back a couple of years ago but had disappeared as soon as he’d arrived, but there was no denying he was here now.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” You murmured, “What the hell is he doing back here?” You asked.
“Mamá heard from Chucho that he’s back for good,” She spoke, “She doesn’t know the details but something happened in Colombia and that’s all I know.”
You watched intently as he walked to the bar and ordered a drink. Folks who were sat at the bar or standing around it turned and gave him a welcome, some of the men clapped him on the back or shook his hand, obviously congratulating him for a job well done.
“Aren’t you going to go and say hello?” Gabriela spoke, lower this time so no-one else on the table could hear her.
You turned to her with open eyes, panic flooding through your veins. You lifted the bottle of beer to your lips only to find it was empty, your brain had obviously been subconsciously telling you to drink it to keep your anxiety at bay.
“Looks like you need another, go on!” She all but pushed you from your seat into a throng of people.
You sighed; she was right. If Javier fucking Peña was going to be in your periphery for the rest of the night you were going to need more alcohol and if he was staying around for a while you needed to rip the band aid off instead of slowly peeling at it.
You tried to hang back from the bar as much as possible, trying to hide yourself amongst the crowd but it was just your luck that the spot that opened in front of you was right next to him. You stepped forward, leaning against the bar to wait for the bartender to notice you. You turned to face Javier who had his eyes trained into the glass of whiskey.
“You know, it’s usually tea leaves you read for visions of the future, not whiskey.”
He lifted his head at your voice, clearly as taken aback by your presence as you were to his. You watched as his eyes looked at your face before the spark of recognition washed over him.
“Well, I’ll be,” He spoke, “Of all the people I thought that would still be here, you were the last person I would have guessed.”
You shrugged, “I could say the same for you, last I heard you were gone for good.”
He shrugged back, “Things didn’t work out.” Was all he offered.
“That’s not what I heard.”
“Yeah, well, you shouldn’t believe everything you hear or read.”
The bartender stood in front of you, you handed her the empty bottle and asked for another, dropping the notes required to cover the cost on the bar as she walked away.
“Are you back at the ranch?” You asked, attempting to steer the conversation somewhere that wouldn’t lace his voice with venom.
“Yeah,” He sighed, “Pops needs help and it’s a good enough distraction right now,” He drained his glass of whiskey, asking the bartender to refill it when she’d placed your beer in front of you, “What about you, what’s keeping you busy?”
You snorted through your nose, “Nothing grand, I’ve got a little tailoring shop in town, it’s small and most people tend to go to the bigger shop a few streets over but it suits me.”
He smiled at that, “You were always creative,” He spoke, “I remember that dress you made for the summer party at school, it was lovely.”
“Thanks,” You said, “I have to admit I’m much better now, Gabriela has entrusted me with altering her wedding dress, it’s probably the biggest responsibility I’ve ever had.”
“I’m sure you’ll do a great job.” He shot a smile your way.
“Well, it’s good to see you Javier,” You spoke, picking up your beer, “Don’t be a stranger.”
He placed a hand on yours that was resting on the bar and gave it a soft squeeze before you turned and made your way back to your table. You sat back down next to Gabriela before glancing at Ethan who had a face like thunder. There was no doubt he’d watched your every move when you’d left the table and you knew you were going to pay for that when you both got home.
***
“Who were you talking to at the bar?”
You’d barely walked into your house when Ethan started on your interrogation.
“His name is Javier,” You replied, dropping your bag by the front entrance, “Gabriela and I knew him from school although he was a couple of years above us.”
“Peña?” He asked, “Laredo’s resident hero?” You didn’t like his tone.
“If you’re going to say something Ethan, then just say it.”
“You know how I feel about you talkin’ to other men,” He started, turning away from you to pour himself a glass of whiskey, “You’re my wife.”
“But talking to your friends is fine?” You asked, knowing that antagonizing him was probably a terrible idea, “Because you chose them, right?”
“Don’t fuckin’ test me tonight,” He warned, “I saw the way he touched you.”
“He touched my hand for all of two seconds Ethan, for crying out loud!” You exclaimed, “He was my friend and I’d not seen him in years.”
You watched as Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose to calm himself down before draining his glass and pouring another one.
“I want you to stay away from him,” He spoke lowly, the voice you knew was a warning to you to not push him any further, “Chris told me you weren’t just friends so don’t fucking lie to me.”
“Well Chris is full of bullshit, he didn’t know me then and he sure as hell doesn’t know me now, Javier has never been more than a friend to me, but go ahead, believe whatever you want.”
You turned on your heel to walk down to the bedroom before feeling a hand clamp around your upper arm and drag you back.
“Don’t you dare walk away from me,” He spat right into your face, “You stay away from him, do you understand me?”
“Yes, I understand,” You relented, “Please let go of me Ethan, you’re hurting me.”
He did as you asked, turning away almost immediately to let you walk away. It was the same as always. You’d do something to upset him, he’d grab you, put pressure on you enough to hurt you and then let you go once you turned on your sickly-sweet voice to tell him you were hurting. Then you’d wrap yourself up in bed, pretend to be asleep when he came to bed and lie awake all night wondering what the hell had gone so wrong with your life.
***
It had been a busy few days following the weekend. Gabriela had come in for her fitting and had decided the arms on the dress needed to go. It would be too hot, and she would be too pregnant to handle the lace sleeves she’d chosen originally so you’d been pulling long hours in the shop basically constructing her a an entirely new gown. You’d be lying to yourself if you weren’t also avoiding spending too much time at home with Ethan and trying to avoid Javier out in public.
It was just after lunch time when the door of the shop opened, pulling you from your job of dressing the mannequins with some of the dresses you’d made a few weeks ago and to your dismay, Javier was standing in the doorway with an armful of clothes.
“Oh, Javier, nice to see you,” You spoke politely, “Just give me a minute to button this up and I’ll be right with you.”
“Take your time, Querida.” He responded, walking over to the counter to set his items down.
You quickly fastened the buttons of the dress and placed the mannequin in the window before heading to the counter.
“What can I do for you?”
“I’d forgotten quite how ranch life worked,” He admitted, “I’ve popped the buttons off two pairs of jeans since I came back but there’s still life in them, do you think you can replace them?” He asked.
You unfolded the jeans he’d put on the counter; it would be a simple fix for sure, “Yeah of course, it shouldn’t take me more than a few minutes if you wanted to hang around, I can do them now.”
“If it’s not too much trouble?”
“Not at all,” You smiled, taking the jeans in your hands, “If you come back here you can sit whilst I work.”
You led him into the tiny workshop in the back where you kept your sewing machine. Motioning for him to sit on the chair you kept for customers you took your own chair and rifled through the drawers to find suitable buttons.
“So, apart from ruining your jeans, how is the ranch treating you?” You asked as you picked out a needle and thread.
“It’s the same as it’s always been,” He replied, “I guess ranching never changes and Pops has done a good job in keeping it going on his own.”
“Chucho never fails to amaze me,” You mused as you threaded the needle, “I’m sure he’s glad to have you back.”
Javier scoffs lightly, “I think mostly I’m a hinderance, I’m not as young as I was and all those cigarettes are finally catching up with me,” You didn’t reply, instead focusing on situating the button before you began sewing it onto the material, “And how about you? Pops said you got married a few years ago?”
Your hands stilled as you looked up at him, “Uh yeah, it’ll be two years in September,” You forced a smile, “It happened pretty quickly but then most things do down here.”
“What’s he like?” Javier asked, you could feel his eyes boring into you as you tried to concentrate on sewing without stabbing your fingers.
“He’s nice,” You replied simply, “He runs a sales business with one of his buddies from college which managed to buy us a house last year.”
“Nice, huh?” You knew he could see right through you, “Well I’m glad, you always deserved someone… nice.”
Another moment when you stilled your hands at their work, this time refusing to meet his gaze that you could tell was still fixed on you, “And you?” You asked back.
“Marriage, me?” You could sense some tension in his voice, “The first time I got near I realized I could never be that man for someone, and I knew Colombia wasn’t forever, so no, I’m not married.”
“Well, now you’re back I’m sure you’ll find plenty of willing volunteers.”
He chuckled, but didn’t respond, “And your family, how’re they?”
“Mamá is the same as always,” You mused, finishing up the sewing of the first button, deciding to look at him this time, “But dad died last year.”
You watched his features soften a little, “Ah hermosa, I’m sorry.” He offered and you can tell there was genuine sympathy, he’d lost his mother many years ago but must know the pain that comes with losing a parent.
“Está bien, Javier,” You replied, slipping into the small amount of Spanish you had, “He was sick for a while, so it was more of a relief than anything else.”
“It’s still never easy,” He offered, “And he was a good man, I’m surprised Pops didn’t say anything, they were close.”
You shrugged but didn’t say anything opting to focus on finished his second pair of jeans. You worked in silence and were done in a few minutes.
“There, all done now.” You smiled, folding the two pairs of jeans and handing them back to him before leading him back to the front of the store.
You handed him the jeans back and watched as he fished into his jeans for his wallet, “Oh don’t worry about it, it was a five-minute job, treat it as a welcome home gift.”
“Don’t be silly, Querida, let me pay you.”
“Honestly Javier, put your wallet away.”
He looked at you and finding the serious look on your face he put his wallet back in his pocket, “Well, thank you, I really appreciate it.”
“No problem, drop in anytime you need anything.” You called as he turned to walk out of the shop.
He stilled for a moment at the door and you stared at his back, wondering what was stopping him from leaving before he turned his head slightly over his shoulder to speak to you.
“I’m sorry, hermosa.”
And then he was gone.
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#javier pena#narcos#Pedro pascal#Javier pena smut#javier pena fic#Javier pena x reader#Javier pena x female reader#javier pena x f!reader#Javier pena x you#javier pena fanfiction#Javier pena Pedro pascal#CS
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Meeting the Sainzs | Carlos Sainz x Reader
Genre: Fluff
Pairing: Carlos Sainz x girlfriend!Reader
A/N: I tweaked it a little bit, but this was really fun to write.
You stand in front of your boyfriend's house. A little bit excited, but mostly daunted.
Your boyfriend, Carlos Sainz is an F1 driver from Spain.
You think about the time you first met. You were an F1 journalist for your magazine and when you interviewed him for the first time, sparks flew. After that, you both were inseparable.
But his family doesn't think so. You've met them in bits and pieces- just shy hellos and goodbyes, and they've always judged you.
Or so you think.
This is the first time officially that they've invited you for dinner. And that is why, you are daunted.
You don't want to mess it up, you don't want to sound stupid and definitely don't want to sound like a golddigger.
Of course you can't tell this to Carlos. He offered to pick you up but you refused- saying you could drive from the hotel to his house. You ended up getting lost on the way and being an hour late, for which you've apologized profusely and brought some wine on the way as a thank you.
You take a deep breath in.
You got this.
You ring the bell, and wait. You can feel the sweat trickle down your makeup laden face, it's so hot and also you're super nervous.
The door opens to reveal Carlos.
“Y/N! You made it.” He gives you a peck on the lips.
He walks you inside to the dining area, where everyone is sitting, waiting for you.
There's his dad, mom, both his sisters, their husbands and his cousin along with his wife.
You wave a shy hi.
“Hello, dear,” his dad comes up and hugs you. His dad really adores you, because he's seen you taking interviews.
His mom, and sisters, not so much. They wave a polite hello and go back to their own world.
You feel a little hurt. Carlos doesn't see it, or if he does, he pretends to ignore it.
“Come sit with us,” his cousin Carlos, tells you.
“How're you finding Madrid so far?” He asks you.
“Great,” you reply.
“Mi amor, here's some wine for you.”
You take the glass from Carlos gratefully.
“Everyone, let's have dinner,” his mother says.
You all line up in front of the table.
Everyone lines up at their seat and you're confused as to where to sit. There are two chairs empty but they're not next to each other. You stand there awkwardly as Reyes, his mother, goes to the kitchen.
“¿Por qué incluso la ha invitado?” His sister, Ana whispers. But she's standing so close to you and you hear it.
What they don't know is that you know a little bit of Spanish.
“Chicas, no sean tan groseras.” Carlos replies back as he sees your expression.
He whispers something in his cousin's ear and his cousin empties the seat next to Carlos.
“Let's sit, mi amor.” Carlos gestures you and you follow his movement.
Blanca rolls her eyes. Reyes comes back from the kitchen and looks at you, sighing.
Dinner is lively. You're mostly talking to Carlos and his cousin's wife, and sometimes Carlos’s dad pitches in.
Suddenly Carlos starts coughing.
“Carlos, honey, are you okay?”
He nods.
“I'll get you some water,” you hurriedly get up and go to the kitchen to get some water. Reyes follows you.
“You didn't have to get up, love,” she says, as you're standing in the kitchen trying to figure out where the cold water is. Reyes opens the fridge and motions you to follow her.
Her expression is soft, almost apologetic.
You give the water to Carlos who mumbles a quiet ‘thanks’.
“So tell me, Y/N,” Ana, his sister, pauses, and takes a sip of her wine, “how did you meet Carlos?”
Both of you smile. You stare at each other and you nod at Carlos to take the lead.
His dad and cousin are smiling too. They've heard this story a million times.
“So, Y/N, had to interview me at the hotel, but as always, she couldn't figure out which room to go into so she ended up somewhere else and I was somewhere else.”
You laugh.
“He waited around 15 minutes for me and I rushed in, frantically apologizing for being late.” You continue.
“I was smitten the moment I met her, it didn't matter whether she was late or not.”
Carlos puts his arm around you and kisses you. You blush a little.
“She's been my support through and through,” Carlos continues.
You remember the time when you had been with him during the surgery. Taking out time from your job was a little tough, but you made sure to be there for him whenever time allowed.
“And you've been mine,” you respond back, smiling.
Anybody can see how much you both love each other.
Dinner ends. You're helping to clean up. Ana, Blanca, Reyes and you work in the kitchen silently.
“Thank you for inviting me,” you say, breaking the silence while handing Reyes the plates as she puts them in the dishwasher.
“You're welcome, sweetie.” She replies.
“So tell me, Y/N, how's your job going?”
“Amazing. I love travelling, the interaction, and of course, spending time with Carlos. My job is too demanding, but worth it.”
The way you speak about Carlos, the way you say his name with so much love and compassion- both his sisters can see it.
They smile at you.
“We're glad you're here,” Ana speaks up.
You frown, remembering her initial statement but you've decided to forgive her. She's just being protective of her brother, that's all.
“I'm glad too,” you smile at her.
Meeting a significant other's family is quite challenging, especially when it's someone famous. You're not sure what is there in store for you but you're happy that Carlos is by your side- and hopefully his family too.
#f1#formula 1#carlos sainz x female reader#carlos sainz x y/n#carlos sainz x you#carlos sainz x reader#carlos sainz#cs55 x you#cs55 imagine#cs55 fluff#cs55 x reader#cs55 fic#cs55#cs55 leclercings#f1 x female reader#f1 one shot#f1 x y/n#f1 x you#f1 x reader#cs 55 leclercings
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more sketches inspired by this fic. T-T
#cs pacat#captive prince#capri#baby laurent#damen x laurent#laurent of vere#prince laurent#damen of akielos#lamen#auguste of vere#auguste#Auguste wears fruity little hats#fic rec
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